#help i’m trying to publish all my drafts

[kierahn]

yandere ! ceo x stripper ! male reader for @rin-sama-writes.

[ nsfw, minors dni. ]

hi, i read your ideas in my inbox and i just had to make a quick drabble about it :] i’ll be making a full one some other time though since i still have 3 prompts to work on. (also, i accidentally published your previous ask before i got to complete the draft, so it got deleted. i’m so sorry,, 🥹🙏)

this is more of a power bottom reader, but i'll do a couple of dom readers soon. this just is a small warm up lol.

× cero had a long and tiring day of filling up paper works, organizing documents, attending several meetings, and the likes; usual CEO stuff. so to reward himself for a job well done, he decides to ask his driver to drive him to your workplace after work. he deserved a treat or two from you.

× the moment he stepped foot inside the nightclub you worked at, it was like a message had been sent to all the present employees. everyone scurried away the moment cero blessed the room with his presence, rushing to prepare the v.i.p room that he had built specifically for you and him to have some fun alone; away from prying eyes. no one deserved to see you in that blissed out state but him.

× the performers that you worked with on stage stopped to inform you that a client had requested your presence in the v.i.p room.

× it was him again, the man whose name you learned was cero, dressed in designer clothes from head to toe and a branded watch around his wrist. everything about him screamed rich which made him an immediate target for you. it was so easy to have guys like him all hooked up on you like some moth drawn to a flame.

× usually, cero would tease you or whistle upon seeing you enter the room, but he was strangely silent tonight.

× you approach the leather couch where he was seated and noticed how his usually neat appearance seem to be absent today. his hair was slightly a mess and his tie was crooked. he looked tired overall.

× normally, you wouldn’t care much about his wellbeing. however, you couldn’t help but notice how cero didn’t seem to be performing his best today. his thrusts were sloppy and he wasn’t hitting the right spots for you to feel good. even prepping you was a major fail ! you ended up scratching his back when he tried to put himself inside, expressing your discomfort.

× with a sigh, you stop him. “i think i’ve seen enough,” you say exasperatingly, detaching yourself from him. his grip on your waist seem to tighten, a conflicted look on the ceo’s face. he almost looked like a kicked puppy.

× he tried to protest, but you stop him by holding up a finger to his lips. “look, sir, i can see that you’re tired.” you trail your hand to cup cero’s cheek and glaze your thumb under his eye. you stayed seated on his lap, cero’s tired eyes gazing up at your own.

× “i’m fine. i’ll manage, i just need you right now.” cero stubbornly protested, a slight rasp in his voice. his hands trailed down your waist to resume what you two were previously engaged in, but you grab his wrists gently. “say.. how about i do all the work tonight ?” you insisted.

× it wasn’t like you were worried about him, you simply couldn’t handle any more of his sloppy attempt to pleasure you.

× you left no room for an argument. you shut down his protests about how he possibly couldn’t let you do that, or how he had been doing just fine doing the work. maybe in a normal night he would be good at it, but not tonight.

× you got off his lap and positioned yourself in between his thighs. no doubt, he was still rock hard and raging due to your interruption, but cero still kept trying to insist that you didn’t have to.

× when he tried to grab a fistful of your hair to stop you, you grab his wrist first, sending him a look of warning. he really needed to keep his hands to himself.

× just as the thought crossed your mind, your gaze wandered over to his crooked tie. ‘that could work.’

× without explaining any further, your hands worked to undo cero’s tie. he didn’t seem to have any violent reaction towards it, so you assumed that he was fine with you doing so.

x as soon as you finished removing his tie, you held his wrist together and tightly tied them up together with his expensive tie, much to his surprise.

x “for now, i’ll do all the touching.” you say with an edge to your tone, meaning that what you said was absolute. “if you try to touch me even once, you’ll have to forget about getting what you want.”

× cero furrowed his brows at your words. were you ordering him around ?

× but before he could express a single word of protest, a jolt of his thigh caught him off guard. he bit his lower lip to suppress the lewd sounds that threatened to escape his lips.

× your tongue wrapped around his tip sent him into overdrive. he immediately hardened inside your mouth, a small groan escaping his lips.

× “wai..t, y/n– ngh!” his muscles tensed when you started to move. holy shit. it was as if all his stress melted away.

× it was a foreign feeling for cero to feel so stripped of his control over his own release. it was all in your hands now.. or well, mouth.

x as soon as you got a hold of his whole length in your mouth and you assured that there would be no gag reflex holding you back, that was when you went all in. cero’s ragged breathing and low moans filled the spacious room, along with the sound of your muffled groans.

x it took him a lot of willpower to hold back from forcing you down on his cock and hitting the back of your throat, but he knew that he couldn’t touch you. damned tie.

x cero threw his head back, cold sweat dripping from his forehead as his fingers twitched and itched to lay a hand on you. a quiet whimper escaped from the ceo’s lips when you slowed down to tease him a little.

x when you looked up at him, you were met with cero’s eyes that held a hint of pleading. a plead for relief perhaps. it was quite a new sight, but not an unwelcome one. you were so used to seeing him act so prideful about making you feel good, seeing him in this state wasn’t so bad.

x a slight chuckle. the vibration from your mouth was, surprisingly, enough to make the ceo finish inside your mouth. you slowly pull out, his load staining the inside of your mouth and your tongue white.

x who knew he was this sensitive. you avert your gaze to study cero’s aftermath. his hair clung to his skin that glistened with sweat, eyes clouded with bliss, and he panted heavily like some dog in heat.

x you couldn’t help but smile in mischief at the realization that you could put a powerful man like him in such a state.

#male reader #yandere x male reader #x male reader #yandere male x male reader #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere #kiahndere

[bibittybopittybadbxtch]

Dinner and a Heart Attack

Summary: You make a questionable decision while making dinner and Wonwoo catches you in the act.

Pairing: Wonwoo x Pregant! Reader

Word Count: 578

A/N: Hi lovies! Just a little Wonwoo for the timeline. I’m OT13 for Seventeen so picking who got my first fic was a tough one. But i had this prompt saved in my drafts and it screamed Wonwoo. So here’s a gift from me to you! please be kind. not proof read. written on my phone. You know the deal lol.

XOXO, BiBi🩷

P.S.

I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app.

NOT MY GIF

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You wanted to surprise your sweet husband. Wonwoo was on his way home and you were making his favorite meal. It had been a long week for him. Prepping for the upcoming tour and rearranging choreography to accommodate two absent members. He needed a treat. So you decided to give him just that. It’s an old family recipe. You could mostly make it from memory but you always got stuck towards the end. You kept your grandmothers cook book on the top shelf, away from the wear and tear of daily life. The only problem was Wonwoo was the one who usually got it down for you. At 5 months pregnant you weren’t necessarily as nimble as you used to be but climbing on the counter couldn’t be that difficult. So you made sure the counter was clear before climbing on to it.

The scene the welcomes Wonwoo as he enters this house is certainly unexpected and absolutely unwelcome. Upon entering the house he gets a clear view of you. His gorgeous loving wife, on the counter. He doesn't think his body just moves. He rushes into the kitchen and sweeps you off the counter and sets you on your feet. You’re taken by surprise. You hadn’t heard him come in, and didn’t expect him for another half hour. "Hi Baby" you greet him with a smile, getting on your tippy toes to press a soft kiss to his lips. Wonwoo doesn’t return your affection. He is staring down at you completely stunned. "Are you okay?" you are both puzzled and concerned by hid reaction. He takes a deep breath while running a hand through his hair. “Gorgeous, what on earth were you doing on the counter” He asks after he’s finally collected his thoughts. “Oh, I was trying to get the recipe book down” You don’t think much of it and turn back to the stove to stir your pot. “I can never remember how much gochujang it requires.”

Wonwoo can’t help but smile at you. He knows you mean well, but your tendency to disregard your own safety troubles him. “Baby, I appreciate you cooking my favorite meal so much. I love you. You take such amazing care of me. Could you spare some of that care for yourself?” He pulls you into his embrace and rests his chin and your head. That’s when it clicks. That look in his eyes when he first walked in. Fear. He was scared. “Woo, I promise. I was being careful. Don’t worry.” You try reassuring him even though you know he’s right. “It’s not just you I’m worried about. It’s the baby. You know you’re clumsy. You almost gave me a heart attack.” You pull back to smile at your husband and adjust the glasses on his face. “I promise to wait next time.” You tell him as he moves his hands to your growing belly. He kneels to have a whispered conversation with your unborn child before returning to his full height. “What was that about?” You ask unable to hide your smile. “I just told him that I hope he inherits my coordination.” He laughs at the expression on your face before turning to the stove. “Sweet and Spicy Chicken? I’ve been craving it all week.” He places a swift kiss on your cheek. “Thank you so much, but no more counters deal?” “Deal.” You agree as he reaches up with ease and grabs the recipe book.

#seventeen #wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x y/n #fluff #reader insert #reader imagine #jeon wonwoo

[nanowrimo]

How a First-Timer Wrimo Landed Literary Representation

NaNo participant Demi Michelle Schwartz shares her story on how NaNoWriMo helped her sign on with a literary agent! She also offers some lessons she learned from taking on the challenge — and maybe it'll inspire you too!

Are you an author with dreams of being represented by a literary agent? If so, I’m here to tell you that NaNoWriMo played a key role in my journey to signing with my agent, Michelle Jackson at LCS Literary.

I received an offer on the manuscript I drafted during my first NaNoWriMo in 2022. Fun fact, I signed my contract during November in 2023, exactly a year after writing the book. Reflecting back, there were choices I made that I hope will give you insight into how your NaNoWriMo project could lead to securing representation.

Stepping Outside My Comfort Zone

I’ve been an avid reader of young adult mysteries and thrillers ever since middle school. For this reason, I naturally gravitated to those genres when I started writing books. Still, I’ve grown to appreciate all genres from my MFA in Writing Popular Fiction program at Seton Hill University, a top one being fantasy. When I decided to participate in NaNoWriMo, I stepped outside my comfort zone and drafted a young adult Little Red Riding Hood reimagining with Greek mythology.

Exploring a different genre led to me writing the book that got me my agent. So, if you’re interested in taking the NaNoWriMo challenge, consider trying something new. Along the way, you’ll expand your creative horizons.

Planning Before Taking the Challenge

Something I noticed after participating in NaNoWriMo twice now is that planning my books led to me feeling invested in them. As authors, we always have ideas bouncing around in our heads. Some stick, and others don’t. Taking time to explore my characters, plot, world, and more made me realize how much I loved what I was creating. Before I even started writing on November 1, I felt passionate about my story.

When you’re pitching agents, your goal is to sell your story. Having such a strong belief in your manuscript will allow you to authentically query it. Passion shines through, and if you care about your book, an agent may fall in love with it, too.

Taking Time to Receive Feedback and Revise

I can’t stress enough how important it is to receive feedback on your work and do several rounds of revisions. Once you draft a book during NaNoWriMo, it may be difficult to resist the temptation to send it out right away. Rather than querying a manuscript that isn’t ready, channel your eagerness to share your work into finding critique partners and beta readers.

For my manuscript, I did a revision on my own after winning NaNoWriMo. Then, I received critiques, made edits, and repeated this process until I felt my manuscript was ready. I queried my agent in August, and she offered me representation at the end of October. I truly believe the time and effort I put into polishing my book led to getting many full requests and my offer.

If I would have pitched the draft from NaNoWriMo, I’m 100 percent sure my email would have been flooded with only rejections. So, remember to take your time revising. The wait will be worth it when you begin receiving positive responses to submissions.

Now that it’s a new year, there’s a long runway before November arrives. It’s never too early to start planning your NaNoWriMo project. Since this challenge gave me the opportunity to draft the book that made one of my dreams come true, I hope you feel inspired to take a strategic approach to your NaNoWriMo project and give it wings to soar in the publishing world.

Demi Michelle Schwartz is a young adult fantasy and thriller author from Pittsburgh, PA, represented by Michelle Jackson at LCS Literary. After earning BAs in Creative Writing and Music from Seton Hill University, she went on to pursue her MFA in Writing Popular Fiction at Seton Hill and graduated with her degree in June of 2022. When Demi isn’t working on her manuscripts, she’s busy chasing her other dream as an award-winning songwriter and recording artist.

Check out her website, Twitter, and Instagram!

Header photo by Negative Space.

#nanowrimo #now what #writing #nanowrimo experience #publishing #by nano guest #demi michelle schwartz

[judysxnd]

Proofs that Pedro Pascal and Y/n Y/l/n are dating, (part 3)

I had this in my drafts since, well April. No! I actually started in march. The dates are actually when I wrote those little moments. I wasn’t confident enough to publish it but now I care less so I’m publishing it anyway (before I chicken out). I’m trying to be more active and change my mind! It’s not easy these days.

Here is part one and two !

———————————————————————————

23.04.23, in the morning, around 11am

It’s actually two different times, but it’s after y/n posted a video that day that the fans made the connection. A week ago approximately, Pedro posted a story of him talking about a new movie coming that one of his close friends was in. He was in bed. We could see the covers, grey with white dots. Nothing much, yet. But it’s on the 23rd, that it changed. Y/n posted a video of new clothes she bought. She put them all on her bed, to try and show everything. And that’s when we saw, again, the same cover, grey with white dots. How strange. Their fans immediately made the connection and went crazy about it. But neither Pedro nor Y/n said anything.

24.03.2023 in the afternoon, around 3pm

In a interview a while ago, as she was asked what was her nighttime routine before bed, y/n said that she was reading short stories, that it was helping her relax and get lost in her imagination, which led her to fall asleep very quickly. “That’s also why I only read before bed, because I will fall asleep if I read, so it’s not so good to do it any other time” she said. It might seem innocent and unrelated to Pedro, but bare with me for a minute.

On the 24rd, y/n was bored, and decided to start an Instagram live. At some point, she saw that Pedro was in the comments and told him to join her. So he did. Fans were asking them lots of question, but at one point, this one popped up “what are you guys currently reading?”. Y/n answered and said that she was reading “Kiss kiss” by Roald Dahl.

“Short stories are my fav” she said. “And there’s this one story that I really liked, about a woman murdering her husband” Pedro laughed as she summed up the story.

“Oh yeah I remember that one! We actually read it together” Pedro added.

It’s then on Twitter later that day after the live ended, that we could see videos from that old interview y/n did, but only the part about reading short stories before bed. Their fans instantly linked those two moments. They are dropping hints!!!

29/30.04.2023: during the night

A few people tweeted about seeing Pedro and y/n in a bar with some friends. Apparently they were sitting next to each other and were seen being pretty close.

“We were two tables away from them and we could see y/n leaning on him, there was some frequent touching , arms and thighs, they seemed really close”

“When they left, they were holding hands”

03.04.2023 in the afternoon

A new interview featuring Pedro Pascal and Y/n Y/l/n just dropped today in the afternoon. A new movie is upcoming, in which they are together. As Pedro is known as the daddy of internet, he obviously got asked at some point if it was bothering him or if he still liked it.

“I love it! It’s funny, I don’t know where it is coming from since I don’t have kids, but I love it. I’ll be their daddy forever” he said, looking straight at the camera

“Forever? At some point you’ll be their grandpa” Y/n said laughing. Pedro faked being shocked.

After a few questions, he was also asked if he had already read fanfictions about himself.

“No I haven’t, as I have already seen some tik toks about me, I never actually read anything and I don’t want to” he laughed

“I did” Y/n added out of nowhere

“I’m sorry what?” Asked Pedro, this time not faking the shocking expression.

“You read fanfictions about Pedro?” The interviewer asked Y/n

“Yeah! I’m curious.”

“What kind did you read?” The woman asked Y/n. She started to blush, which kind of revealed what she had read. “Okay from your expression we sense what you read” they all laughed.

“No no! I mean, maybe one or two pretty heated ones but no, there were like normal. It’s just my curiosity, it’s not like I read hundreds of fanfictions, it was just for fun. And it’s also really surprising to see how accurate they are actually” she laughed

“Wait, what do you mean accurate?” The interviewer asked. Looking at the woman who was interviewing them, you could see she was sensing that something between Pedro and Y/n was happening. And when you looked at Pedro and Y/n it seems like they realized what Y/n had said and what was going on. They seemed surprised and a little nervous.

“Hm- well, I mean, how- well, the way they make him talk, parts of his personality.. I also read a few about Joel and Peña, and well yeah, they’ve never seen Pedro but they write about him, and it’s.. well.. accurate” she laughed awkwardly.

“Oh okay, I thought about something else” the woman laughed. “I’ve read some and it was- heated” they all laughed

“Please I don’t want to know about it” Pedro said. (It was a close one)

10.05.2023 during the afternoon

Pedro and y/n were seen at the mall. Y/n was in line waiting for her drink order at some coffee shop. Pedro was waiting outside, smoking. Some fans came to ask him pictures. One took a video of their interaction with him. We were only seeing Pedro talking to the fans.

“What happened to your neck?” The fan asked. We can see Pedro confused.

“My neck?” He touches his neck to see if he could feel something but nothing. “Do I have something on my neck?” Another fan showed him the picture they took a few minutes before. We can clearly see that he has, in fact something on his neck : a hickey. Which he wasn’t aware of. “Oh” Pedro said, suddenly becoming red. He laughed awkwardly. Before he could add anything we can here a woman’s voice, it was Y/n. The video then showed her, talking and smiling to the fans here. Then the video ended.

This interaction went viral on Twitter (not really surprising). It raised even more suspicions, if they aren’t making it official, people are doing it for them. Proofs are piling up, it’s becoming difficult not to see it now.

12.05.2023, around 1pm

Pedro and Y/n have been spotted in a restaurant with another person. They were sitting next to each other while their friend was sitting in front of them. A fan posted a video of them from another table, and in the video, we can see Pedro kiss Y/n’s shoulder. They are not even hiding anymore! Or.. they are pretending?? Playing with us? We need an official statement!! We can see them going out together more and more, what is going on?

21.05.2023, around 10pm

Pedro and Y/n were seen entering a hotel. It was late, they only had one luggage and a backpack, and apparently a member of the staff of the hotel said that they only took one room. Is it true? They may have separate beds but we will never know. This is suspicious…

24.05.2023, 9:12pm

As we know Pedro was at Lux’s graduation. But, what we didn’t know until the hotel part, was that Y/n was there too. She apparently wasn’t at the graduation, but an interesting Instagram story appeared during the weekend. It was just a simple video, as many as there are, of Pedro dancing, in what seemed to be Lux’s apartment, dancing with her, and there was a third person dancing right behind them : Y/n. In the middle of the video, we see Nicolás, Pedro’s brother, entering the room, laughing at the scene. The story was on Lux’s Instagram and was captioned “this one was almost deleted. I would cherish that day forever 🤍” as she tagged Pedro, Nicolás, Y/n, and another person.

26.05.2023 at 11:47pm

Pedro posted a story of Y/n. They were apparently watching a movie together, but we can see in the video that they were in bed, next to each other. Even more suspicious! In the video, he is trying not to laugh, as he films Y/n, as she was extremely focused in the tv show they were watching. She was frowning, and not taking her eyes off the screen. He captioned “she is so focused in the tv show she apparently didn’t find interesting at first”. The next day Y/n finally saw the story, and reposted it saying “well, you’ve never seen your face! I’ll get my revenge you bastard”. They were in bed together! That’s all we are going to remember.

#pedro pascal #fanfic #imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #oneshot #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal preferences #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fluff #preferences

[lucienarcheron]

SJM Live Event 9.26.2023

This was so fun! I loved the questions and rapport between Christian Lauren and Sarah. Below is a recap of what was discussed :)

She looks great!

They met years ago when SJM was still writing TOG (on book two)

COURTOFMASS helped narrow down the questions so AYY fandom

CL likes to see when people try to summarize the SJM’s books so they asked SJM to summarize CC

SJM’s palms were sweating (LOL) and she summarized it as “a mix of urban fantasy, fantasy, fantasy but modern world - kick ass snarky heroine who goes on a journey of self-discovery and healing with hot ass dudes and hot sex”

“Doesn’t look any family members in the eye” because of her smut (lol)

SJM doesn’t look at any theories. “I say no in the most loving way”

She doesn’t have social media on her phone so she’s not lurking around on the internet. She just wants to stay in her creative bubble. Every now and then a friend will send her something “lol look at this crazy theory” 

Creating CC / what was that like? 

It was a year-long process and ongoing as she was writing it. She’s back living in NYC and growing up in the city inspired a lot of this book. The idea came to her on a plane while on tour (possibly HOF) and she heard a piece of music, and saw Danika’s voice reaching out to Bryce. It’s when she burst into tears and Bryce came to life (she’s told us this before). She kind of worked in reverse as it unraveled in her mind. It’s something she thought about for years and it was her “fun” / side project. Over the course of a bunch of years, until TOG was starting to wrap up, she kept coming back to it. 

This was the story she wanted to tell because she loved Bryce and Hunt so much by that point. It was over the course of years daydreaming about this story and peeling away the images of the story. She had a lot of fun writing this book.

How does she keep track of the worlds she creates?

Publisher has an official bible which they constantly reference and she has an awesome editor that remembers all the important stuff and small moments/lines. She has a terrible memory in real life but SJM keeps all her stories occupied in her brain. Also keeps a bunch of notebooks.

We don’t know much about Hunt’s origin so are we going to find out about his parentage and background in the next book? 

We will learn more about Hunt in the next book. As for his well-being, “I make no promises. I’m not saying anything about anything.” LOL. “I will say that when I was working on HOSAB my editor and I were thinking about what was the most horrible thing that could happen.” Originally she considered him getting his wings chopped off again but her editor was like “what can be worse” and it’s the slave tattoo again. A new level of trauma for him to unload in the next book. “He has a lot of room to grow and shit to deal with it. Poor Hunt, he’s in for a journey coming up.” 

Will we find out more about the Autumn King? Does he connect to the Autumn Court?

Yes, we will learn more (about him not necessarily yes to the Autumn Court connection). “He’s not a father in any way.” In the process of writing and editing, he’s become one of her favorite to write because he’s so horrible and terrible. He’s capable of doing the right thing but doesn’t. He’s just a fucked up, horrible person. It’s a lot of fun to put opposing characters in a room to see what happens (bryce vs autumn king). It’s so satisfying for her to see a woman get one up on a douchey asshole.

Ruhn question - Some headcanon in the SJM fandom (that I didn’t quite catch but it made them all laugh) Something about Ruhn and vibrators? Sarah nearly fell down the stairs laughing about this. Now that she’s thinking about sweet Ruhn and where he is, she feels bad. (SARAH NO).

Talked about her writing process - Sometimes she will write a whole draft and realize it’s not what she wants. When she was working on HOFAS, she was going through some shit (didn’t want to elaborate) and she wrote the whole thing but then she didn’t like it. She was “meh” about it. She knew she hadn’t found the right story and it wasn’t good enough. She is very intense about her writing and wants to put her very best writing out there. 

There’s a little bit of an extra gap between the books because she had her baby but also she went through the first/second round of edits with other things going on that she wasn’t in the right space. She felt like she needed to throw out the whole thing and start over. She wrote a brand new draft in 4-5 weeks and then she found the story. A couple of scenes stayed from the first draft but almost of it is new. She never wants to put out any work she doesn’t believe in. “You can’t fix a blank page.” so it’s all part of the writing process for her. 

For example, the book she’s working on now - spent the whole day writing a scene but she doesn’t like it and it’s part of the process. 

What it was like waiting for readers to get to the ending of HOSAB / Another author asked about when she decided to crash her worlds together the author can’t fathom that Sarah didn’t plan this out from the beginning so when Aelin went through the worlds and Rhys sees her - “Are you some crazy genius where all these little breadcrumbs come into your brain or was it intentional?” 

Not a genius in any way. Talks about her son and how he says “I’m Sarah J Mask” - her kids keep her humble (lmao). Her son is obsessed with Taylor Swift so it doesn’t matter what she does, she’ll never be Taylor Swift so she’ll never be cool (lol). She loves Taylor and has so much respect for her and now she knows all her songs because they only listened to her in the car. She has the little golden book of TS for her son (LOL). In the eyes of her son, TS is the only creative genius and she is all for it. 

When it comes to the ending of this book, she knew for a while and knew these worlds overlapped before she started working on KOA. She knew Aelin was going to crash through these worlds and had already started daydreaming on CC. When she wrote that scene of Aelin, she wanted her to go through the ACOTAR world and see Feysand then had her go through the CC world. When she was really working on CC officially, while daydreaming about it, she got into this idea of the worlds and how they’re all technically connected. She remembered having this “what the fuck” moment of HOSAB’s ending. “I don’t know what’s happening to my body” and everything clicked in. While working on CC1, she was able to plant some seeds.

When she finally wrote the end of HOSAB with Rhys, she cried. Things had just completely gone to shit in CC and “my wonderful Rhys” comes in. One of her favorite parts that she’s ever written. 

Will we see ACOTAR characters coming in/having POVs? - “I’m not saying anything about anything.”  We will see some of the ACOTAR world. It basically picks up close to where we left off.

Is Dankia really dead - “Um, yeah.” LOL “She is dead and as much as I wish was miraculously living, she’s dead.”

Is Connor really dead - “Yes?” LOL

Does Emil really have no powers? - Passed on answering this. “I like it.”

With magic being weaker in the modern world, do mates mean the same thing in the fantasy (ACOTAR/TOG) as they do in the modern world? - Pass because (they started speaking over each other here but I assume it will be because we will understand more of this in HOFAS). 

Is Hunt really Bryce’s mate - “Am I going to destroy some kind of theory?” She answered, “YES, HE IS HER MATE.”  She talked about how she’s changed the LI in her other series (the FMC’s first LI not being her last one) but with CC she kept the same LI from the beginning to the end -  “If they both make it to the end.” (she’s so mean for this LOL)

When the first ACOTAR book came out, it was hard for her to keep Feysand a secret because people would tell her how much they loved Tamlin and she had to just smile awkwardly about it (lolol).

How much of Bryce’s power has she accessed? - We’ll see in the next book!

They talked a little about parenting and their kids aging and personal stories for a bit. 

CL mentioned SJM previously saying that people won’t need to read ACOTAR to read CC and vice versa. Is that statement still true? - “You should read ACOTAR and if you haven’t read ACOTAR and get to HOSAB, it’ll make you want to read it.” She had them put an AD in the back of HOSAB for people to read ACOTAR. She then said, “I do not stand by that statement. I renounce this statement. Read ACOTAR first.” (👀)

Discussed the cover of HOFAS and whether the cover has a dragon head - “I am not saying anything. There are always easter eggs.”  She added, “We made sure there were many easter eggs.”  It’s probably her favorite cover. It came together so beautifully. 

Did she write HOSAB in order? - She’s always super pumped to write her endings. She has to write in a linear/chronical fashion and she dangles the ending as motivation. She was powering through the rest of the book so she could get to writing the endings of HOSAB. It was the same with ACOSF with Nesta in the Blood Rite and saving Feyre. 

What were some of the most fun/favorite/hardest scenes- In HOEAB, when Hunt discovers Bryce’s unicorn collection. Sarah has collections of My Little Pony and has been in bidding wars for them. She loves them LOL.  Another scene will always be Bryce and Danika doing the drop. She still cries thinking about it. “Call me sentimental, cheesy, or whatever - I believe in our darkest moments we aren’t alone.”  That scene means a lot to her. 

In HOSAB - she loved the opening of the book where they’re basically at a frat party “Wonder where the inspo for that came from” LOL / She loves the little moments of them living their lives and getting to be themesleevs in between disasters. She loved it when Ruhn was super stoned lmao. She also loved the scene with The Hind and Ithan in the bar as well as the end of HOSAB with the Hind revealing herself to her Ruhn; she cried a lot while writing those scenes. 

She gets so emotionally involved with her books/characters. Most of the book is what she loves. She needs to be obsessed with her book because she has to read it over so many times and stay in love with it as she rereads it.

She remembers seeing tear stains on copies of her manuscripts. She loves all her characters so much and they make it worth it across all the series. They feel real to her.  She’s getting to see them in all aspects of their lives. 

Three Bigger Questions - 

One of the reasons they clicked as friends is because they have the same fangirl heart - CL loves her passion for things. How does it feel to have this fandom follow her the way she follows her favorites? Sarah mentions how she was a fangirl of CL first. 

It feels weird to even say fandom for her books. It’s beyond anything she’s ever hoped for herself. There’s no ego here but she grew up as a fangirl for so many things so it blows her mind that people connect with these characters and worlds and that they mean something to them. She also has a profound sense of gratitude that she gets to do what she loves because of the people who read her books. She’s deeply appreciative of the joy and enthusiasm we bring to the books. It’s a very humbling and moving thing to inspire someone. 

Every time she sees someone reading her book, she walks up to them and talks about it apparently! One girl on the street walked by her and Josh and they saw a tattoo of the mountain with three stars and they wanted to ask her about it. Sarah sent Josh to ask her about her tattoo. “He wasn’t cool about it, he just blurted it out.”  She then introduced herself but the girl didn’t seem to believe her HAHA. “No makeup and in regular street clothes. I think she thought I was a lunatic on the street. I don’t think she left the encounter believing it was me.” “I’m going to be quiet and not scare people anymore.” 

She saw a guy on the subway reading ACOMAF “Is he reading some sexy ass stuff on the subway?” but he was reading it because his gf was reading it.

It blows her mind seeing people read her books in real life just like seeing her book on shelves never gets old. 

Now that CC3 is done, what are you working on now? 

Currently working on/drafting the next ACOTAR novel! That’s all she will say. She has become so focused and excited writing this book. She described it as the feeling when you’re first obsessed with someone and all they’re thinking about. For the next god knows how many months or “a million years”  LOL

#sjm #sarah j maas #crescent city #hosaf #hosab #hosab spoilers #acotar #sjm live

[wh0re4gwen]

POPPET ･ﾟ･｡

Possessive!Donna Beneviento x Fem

T/W- Dolls, possessive Donna asf, needles, forced surgical work (?), & I think that’s it

A/N- I’m trying to post all my drafts so I can publish my material list🥲

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

She loved you. Of course she did, or she wouldn’t be helping you right now.

As your partner, Donna vowed to always, do what was best for her precious poppet. Even if that meant doing something she wasn’t particularly proud of.

She almost felt bad, but you tried to leave her and she can’t have that. Oh no, no, no, her precious doll out there all on her own?

The thought saddened Donna. ‘I’m fixing you Cara Mia’ Donna thought to herself.

This way we’ll be together forever and you won’t have to worry about making silly mistakes anymore.

In fact, you won’t have to worry about anything anymore, I can think for the both of us.

Donna began to hum lightly as she wove the needle into your porcelain skin. She smiled at her progress, almost done, then you’ll be good as new.

Once she made the last stitch, she carefully put the needle on the little grey tray with other various tools.

“Now all you need is a new dress. Every doll must look their very best.” Donna spoke softly as she caressed the side of your face lovingly.

“I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere.” She joked as she exited the room.

#donna beneviento x reader #re8 village #resident evil 8 #resident evil #donna beneviento #wlw fanfic #angsty #coquette dollete #angie resident evil #house beneviento #doll maker

[jaeclerc]

just 3.1K of my maxiel demon au for the lovely @powerful-owl ! happy birthday <3 i knew i needed to gift you a little something because you are literally one of the reasons I started to publish any of my f1 works!

cw: mentions of death, blasphemy, and tail fucking

“Maximus,” Daniel greeted him, making Max look up from where he was fucking around on his computer instead of sorting some of the files that he was supposed to be sorting “Tell Torger I have a date so the SEED meeting is a no from me but a huge yes from Charles. And you.”

Max rolled his eyes, staring Daniel down. He was still floating from probably showing off to whoever this date was, trying to impress them with the fact that he was The Devil. Max had seen him try and pick up when they went to the occasional Earth-side bar and he always pulled out the floating and tail as if most people weren’t scared of such a figure like The Devil. He was always baffled when it worked and Daniel ditched them to go off and do whatever he did on these trysts.

(Max tried to never think about it, lest he has to address the deep jealousy that crops up)

“I do not want to go, Daniel.” Max sighed, his fingers going back to pecking out the email he had already pulled up to draft to George, Toto’s assistant. He did not want to go but he still would, because he knew that these small pleasures came rarely to Daniel.

He’s spent over 40 years with Daniel and Charles, he knew them better than he would wish to admit. He knew that Charles was riddled with guilt for disparaging his mother and then dying and he still visited her salon when he could, disguised as a random teen.

He knew that Daniel felt so heavy with the burden of what put him in the position to be The Devil that he rarely gave himself any sort of actual happiness. Underneath the cherry red eyes and poker tail, he was scared of what he had to do daily to maintain his existence. He was secretly devastated that he and his fellow soldiers had died in a war that was supposed to end them all, just for another one to pop up 20 years later. He held his responsibility heavy around his neck like a collared dog.

“I know, Maxi-Pad, but: I’m your boss and I want you to attend. It’ll be good to help you get promoted.” Daniel simpered, a sly smile on his lips at his own joke.

“Promoted to what?” Charles chimed in as he walked in, angel dust still on his cheekbones from his angel boyfriend. Max didn’t understand why he always had to be Daniel’s assistant when there were two of them and Charles was perfectly capable of file organizing and emailing.

“To my two favorite demons!” He wrapped his arms around the both of them, dimples showing as he hugged them close. Letting out a pleased hum as he saw the email that Max was drafting

“We are, of course, the only demons you have.” Max snorted, signing his email off and sending it, even with Daniel squeezing him close. The Devil smelt like La Labo and Old Spice deodorant, as well as the Downey softener that he made all of Hell use.

All of Hell was just the three of them plus Charles’ boyfriend, but he still insisted that they all used it.

“Exactly! But, you’ll be my favorite demons out of alllll the demons and angels there are and that’s pretty sweet.” Daniel let go of them as George replied, confirming that it was alright for them to attend rather than Daniel.

“Great, now that we have that sorted: Charles I need your help picking out an outfit.” Daniel pulled Charles along and Max glared at him as Charles mouthed “Sorry!” over his shoulder.

Max went back to fucking around on reddit forums about being in love with your boss and the implications of it. Just for research. Humanity had become so informational since Max had died.

^_^

Max stewed about as he waited for Charles to finish helping Daniel, waiting to pounce on the other demon and quiz him on everything he knew. Daniel and Charles were each other’s gossip partners, but Max was Daniel’s movie and grocery shopping partner so it evened out in time given. But, Charles still always had the information that Max felt like he was missing.

When Charles finally walked out with a faint grin that bloomed into an intense smile when he saw Max, giggling to himself as Max glowered at him.

“Max, you are so silly.” Was all he said when he finally stopped in front of him, hands crossed as he looked quite smug.

“What do you mean?” Max said, huffy and indignant even if he was admittedly acting super silly and like a teenager with a crush. Which was: accurate but embarrassing. He was only a teenager in body, but in his 50s in spirit and yet he was acting pouty and jealous.

“Just tell Daniel that you like him! He adores you, you guys are always going on little trips together, no?” Charles was always so cryptic with him, it was frustrating.

“That doesn’t mean-you know, the world wide web says that it’s unethical for a boss to sleep with an employee.” Charles snorted, flopping next to Max on the living room couch, sprawling out and putting his feet under Max’s legs, which Max just accepted. It was 15 years too late to shove Charles away, anyway.

“We’re not his employees, we are his friends. Seb told me that Daniel was so lonely before we were chosen and that’s why he picked us out. He needed someone like us. Someone like him.” Charles said.

“Insane?” Max asked

“Gay and lonely.” Charles amended, pausing before adding “And insane.”

Max huffed a laugh, hugging his arms around himself, before preparing himself to ask. But, he didn’t have to, Charles already coming out with it.

“The guy’s name is Emiliano.” He said, a small smile playing on his lips “And Daniel really seems to like him. He couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful his, ah, turquoise eyes were.”

Max openly stared at Charles. What a best friend he was, saying all of this to him when he knew how Max felt!

“Come on, let’s get ready for the meeting. We can go out afterwards.” Charles had that look in his eyes that he had whenever he was planning something. Probably going to try and set Max up at the club they frequent, just so he wasn’t stewing so much about what Daniel could possibly be doing with his tail.

Charles had him dressed in his best white button up, the ripped black jeans that hugged his ass and thighs but weren’t too tight, and even let him borrow a pair of Jordan’s that were pristine and baby blue.

He made him wear his best cologne and style his hair in the nice tussled style that Charles said he looked best in, a sly grin on his face the entire time.

Unusually, Charles wasn’t dressed up with him, he was just in a faded t-shirt and some sweats. But, Charles had a face that distracted from anyone paying attention to anything else and he was taken, so he didn’t need to look good like Max did when they went out.

^_^

When Max walked through their transporting door (not to get confused with the door that dropped into the fiery pits), he was surprised to find himself without Charles and in a low lit restaurant, not the pristine marble halls of Angel Court.

He was also surprised to see Daniel smiling at him, horns and his tail out. Just like Max liked him, unashamed and glowing in his pseudo-godhood.

“Wha-We are missing the meeting.” Max was confused. Someone had to show up at the meeting, it was important and they had already pushed it back twice. It was to review their efficiency and what they needed to fix, which was a lot in Max’s opinion.

“No, Charles is at the meeting, Maxy. We are here.” Max frowned as Daniel stood up, walking towards him. He didn’t understand. Daniel was supposed to be on a date with Emiliano with the blue eyes while Max stewed and tried to convince Toto to give them another demon just so Max could do less desk work and more in the field work with Daniel.

“What about your date?” Max asked, voice softening as Daniel pulled out the chair for him and lightly pushed him down into it.

“You are my date, Max Emilian.” Daniel smiled at him, head tilting as he looked Max up and down, making him feel like there were a bunch of ants crawling up and down his spine with the way he shivered.

Daniel sighed, amused as he continued to just look at Max with his red fire filled eyes, tail flicking behind him absentmindedly as he reached out, hesitant. His thumb brushed Max’s clenched fist, rubbing softly over his knuckles.

“You like me, Max.” It was a fact, a statement that Daniel seemingly knew to be true with the way it came out of his mouth. Max flinched, feeling suddenly exposed,

“I like you too. Have since ‘97 when you rescued that cat from one of the sinners we had to confront.” Max was still silent, which seemingly amused Daniel.

“You also leave those forums that you browse open on the computer.” He added, which Max flushed at. He still felt a little out of depth.

“I was only on Earth for less than 20 years.” Max defended, unclenching his fist as Daniel’s hand wrapped loosely around his. “I don’t know these things. I lost my virginity and then died.” He flushed again at that admission. He had only told Charles about that little fact.

“I know all of that already. I also know that you would’ve never told me you liked me because you’re afraid that it’s against company policy.” Daniel’s thumb rubbed absentminded circles on Max’s knuckle, making his brain only able to focus on how wonderful it felt to have Daniel touching him.

“Turns out: I make the policy and I’ve decided it’s perfectly fine that you like me and I like you. It’s actually encouraged.” He continued, pausing his thumb to get Max to actually look at him.

Max felt deranged with how the suppressed want flowed through him, with the hope and adoration in Daniel’s eyes. Those eyes were looking at him, staring him down and Max wanted to lunge across the table and seal Daniel’s mouth shut with his own. He wanted to strip both of them down until all they had on was their matching horns (red for Daniel and gold for Max). He wanted to cry and yell that they’ve could’ve been together since 1997.

Instead he just replied, quite even and simple if he were to say so himself, “Well if it’s not against company policy and my boss is encouraging it, then, of course, as the star employee, I have to do it.”

Daniel beamed at him, lacing their fingers together.

^_^

Dinner was a quiet, tension filled affair. By the time that Max had his polite three bites of dessert, he was ready to go back home and present himself to Daniel like a cat in heat.

Instead, they walked out the door of the cute Italian restaurant and started walking, Daniel swinging their hands between them as he chatted with Max about small things. Max just wanted to get home, back to Hell and the comfort of their shared house so he could kiss Daniel, too nervous to kiss him in public, unsure how people would react around them.

“Are you good?” Daniel asked as he noticed Max start to slow down, dragging his arm out.

“Can we go home?” Max asked instead of answering. Daniel tilted his head before nodding, his face looking a little less excited than he was before. He snapped his fingers and guided Max through the next available door, right into their living room.

“What’s-“ Max didn’t let Daniel finish, gripping his shoulders and pulling him in for a frankly messy kiss, all nerves and inexperience. Daniel relaxed, hands coming up to cup Max’s jaw, tail wrapping around Max’s waist as they fell into each other.

Daniel was a lot more smooth than Max, coaxing him out of his frantic kissing and into something a little more slow and exploratory, gently tasting each other’s mouths.

Max wanted more and more. He secretly knew that if he ever had Daniel, he would actually lose his mind. He would never be able to have his fill, the endless void of want opening itself up to consume everything Daniel could ever give him and that scared him. The enormous feelings that encompassed him whenever Daniel was around. It was a million times worse already, now that he knew Daniel wanted him back.

He was canting his hips into Daniel’s without even realizing, seeking his warmth to soothe the burn of his own need.

“Max.” Daniel chuckled as Max let out a soft gasp, his own eyes flying open as he felt flooded with embarrassment. He had also feared that his desperation would be so easy to see the moment that he was ever in this position. It wasn’t easing his mind that he was right: Daniel was going to make him absolutely sick with love and want.

He pulled away, wanting to curl up and hide from his own arousal, his body pulsing like he had a heartbeat still.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Daniel soothed, his tail still wrapped around his waist, drawing him in. He pressed a kiss to the space under Max’s ear, pulling him close. Max could feel Daniel’s dick against his hip, half hard and pressing against him as Daniel trailed small kisses against Max’s neck, making his head tilt to the side.

“Daniel-“ He cut himself off before he continued, trying to find the words “Let me.”

He pulled away just a little so he could make Daniel feel good but paused when Daniel’s hands covered his, stopping him.

“Don’t worry about that, baby.” Daniel assured him, his hands guiding Max’s hands to his waist. “We have plenty of time for me. I’ve been tortured into watching you wear these jeans for years without being able to appreciate your thighs.” His hands dropped from Max’s to grab at Max’s ass, palming it before sliding down and gripping Max’s thighs.

Max let out a soft sound, his hips twitching into thin air as Daniel gripped him before letting go and unhooking his button and unzipping his jeans with quick efficiency that had to come from practice. Max would ruminate over that later when he didn’t have Daniel’s hands down his pants, cupping him gently through his boxers.

Max had always been secretly ashamed of what he was (or wasn’t, rather) packing. Even the guy he fucked in the confession box had seemed a little shut down when he realized that Max didn’t exactly have the length to fuck him and so he’d have to top.

But Daniel looked down at what his hand was cupping and audibly moaned when he saw Max’s cock jutting out, barely the length of his middle finger and flushed an angry red from his want.

“I’m so-“ Max started and Daniel cut him off with a shake of his head, palming Max and wrapping his thumb and forefinger around him, stroking him as he used his other hand to press his thumb against the mole on Max’s lip, effectively shutting him up.

“You drive me insane with how perfect you are, don’t you dare apologize.” Daniel’s eyes flared with more fire as he spoke. Max’s lips parted, not to disagree but to take Daniel’s thumb into his mouth, sucking in long draws when he couldn’t think of anything else. He needed something to ground himself before he came all over Daniel’s hand from some heavy petting and praise.

Daniel’s tail crept down the back of Max’s boxers, which were now sagging down his thighs, the poker end gently pressing against him as if Daniel was trying to breach him. Max’s hand flew up to grip Daniel’s hair but caught on his horn, grabbing the first thing felt for purchase as the end gently probed against him, his toes curling in his borrowed shoes.

This was going to end embarrassingly quickly if Daniel didn’t stop using everything he had against Max.

Max hissed, sounding muffled against Daniel’s thumb as he continued to use his tail on him, not pushing far, just enough to make Max feel set on fire from his greatest fantasy coming to life.

“You want my tail?” Daniel asked, seemingly blown away by Max’s reaction to some light exploring. Max felt feverish at the suggestion, just nodding as his eyes fluttered open and then shut, the whole image too much for him.

Daniel took his thumb from Max’s mouth, even as Max tried to chase it, worrying that he would spill just how much he wanted every part of Daniel inside of him at once and how much he had fantasized it.

He heard a snap before he felt something cold drip down his crack and over hole, slick and viscous. He realized, probably a couple seconds too late, that Daniel had conjured lube so he could give Max just that.

The first press of Daniel’s tail inside of him had him feeling light headed as Daniel slowly stroked him, thumb pressing the under side of his cock deliciously, seemingly deeply aware of what made Max tick already.

Max gasped as it breached him fully, curled up inside of him and just tad too hot to be fully human, making him swear as he attempted to rock back against it, his fingers curling around Daniel’s horns even more, yanking him down as Daniel gasped as well, mouth instinctively sealing against Max’s collarbone.

Max’s horns were very sensitive and they were only a third of the size of Daniel’s, so he can’t imagine just how sensitive Daniel’s were with how Max was holding onto them.

Daniel’s tail curled inside of Max again and he felt himself hurdling down the cliff into pure bliss as he moaned, spilling onto Daniel’s hand embarrassingly quick, clenching around Daniel’s tail as he came down.

Daniel as breathing heavily, his hand that caught Max’s cum furiously stroking himself off, his mouth still sucking on Max’s neck as he hurdled down after Max, spurred on by the way that Max was stroking his horns, watching with his mouth dropped open in awe.

“Fuck.” Daniel half laughed once they were both breathing normally, his tail still in Max. “We need to see just how much of my tail you can take.”

#maxiel fic #maxiel #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #demon au #i apologize if this is terribly ooc #but also who cares u know LMFAO #mentions of sebchal #charles leclerc #f1 fic rec #f1 fic #this is minimally edited sorry !

[kasienda]

Fanfiction Year in Review 2023

I fill this out every year. It’s become a bit of a tradition for me. Allows me to reflect on everything that I’ve written and kinda think about where I want to go next. And I like it better from the ask games because I don’t have to wait for asks to come in and can compare my answers from one year to the next. ^_^

1 List of fics completed this year in the order they were finished:

Displaced (Ladrien oneshot)

No Regrets (Ladynoir oneshot - smut)

You Don’t Have To Pretend With Me (Platonic Adrino oneshot)

Representation Reveal (S5 Adrinette oneshot)

Kisses in the Rain (S5 AU Love Square - technically multichapter, but it’s shorter than many of my one-shots)

Would Trust You With Everything (Adrino multichapter)

Just An Ordinary Girl (Marichat oneshot)

Love Remains (Ladynoir multichapter)

Spin the Bottle (OT4 with cour four - technically oneshot, but it’s longer than Kisses and has more kisses in it. Haha!)

2 Number of words written: 

Written: 166,114 words

Published: 151,018 words (more than twice 2022’s number!! Go me!!) 

Those numbers are incredibly close together because I haven’t been redrafting as much. Those numbers include six one shots, three completed multi chapters. And another four multi chapter WIPs saw at least one update.

And in another fun milestone! I broke a million words published on Ao3 just this last week!! (I've been writing fic since 2003 and everything I've ever written is on Ao3!)

3 Your most popular fic:

Not Part of the Plan - I suspect that this is mostly because being a teen pregnancy fic, it’s my most tropiest story this year. Haha! 

4 Your personal fav:

Aftermath - This story has usurped Right Behind You as my favorite. I’ve been able to connect to the raw hurt and grief in this story, and there’s something very raw and human about it that others seem to be able to connect to as well. I think it’s some of my best work, and that is also thanks to an amazing beta in @ladyofthenoodle who has lent her expertise in more than one way in making this one more true to lived experience. 

5 Your fav scene:

It’s so hard to pick a favorite!! I narrowed it down to my three favorites in no particular order. 

The last scene in Ch 5 Love Remains - Chat Noir give amnesiac Ladybug a geography lesson from space. It’s got Whole New World vibes, and I just loved the imagery of it.

Ch 4 of Aftermath - I’m particularly proud of Marinette’s panic attack when Adrien tells her she doesn’t have to keep coming over. Like it feels like it comes out of nowhere, but it just totally makes sense. And how it manifests and how she soothes herself (it’s not healthy, but it’s so GOOD!)

Ch 7 of Would Trust You With Everything - The scene where Chat Noir tries to tell Nino who he is, but inevitably doesn’t. And how Nino reassures him through all that. This scene feels so raw, but so heartwarming in light of Adrien’s fears. And I don’t know - it’s beautiful to me.

6 A fic or scene that challenged you:

I really struggled with Right Behind You this year, though it wasn’t for lack of trying! I had started out the year hoping to go back to an update a month here and I only updated it three times throughout 2023. 

This was incredibly frustrating because the initial drafts of scenes would come pretty easily, but I couldn’t seem to make them pop the way the earlier chapters did. The good news is I think I figured out what the issue was. Most of my writing this year has been speed writing. And a big part of that is just where I’ve been emotionally. I’m very very out of practice in editing and redrafting, which this story and Aftermath both definitely need. 

I’ve only been able to edit Aftermath because I’ve had a ton of help. (Thanks Noodles!) Sadly, it’s harder to find betas for rarepairs, but I have succeeded! (Thanks@coffeebanana!)

7 A line of writing you’re proud of: 

“She wanted to be there to see it. To see him.”

This line is way better in context, but I’ve made myself cry about three times with it. And I refuse to explain it because that would give its power away. Guess you’ll just have to go read Aftermath. 

8 A comment that touched you: 

I can never answer this question without mentioning several!! 

Would Trust You With Everything - this story had a ton of enthusiastic followers - way more than rarepair work usually gets, and I wrote this story right after my life fell apart and all the commenters here made throwing this story together just that much more joyful during a time when I REALLY needed it. (I'm looking at you, @bittersweetresilience, @bbutterflies @flightfoot @coffeebanana and so many others that I don't know your tumblr name!!!) Not Part of the Plan Comments - I added sex ed lessons to the end of each chapter here because there’s so much about fertility and pregnancy that people don’t know if typical pregnancy fics are anything to go by, and this seemed to inspire so many people to share their pregnancy stories!!! And these have been so cool because I’ve learned that these stories just don’t often have an opportunity to be shared. And it’s neat that this story with its accompanying lessons could create a space for that!! Aftermath comments - lots of people who have really struggled with moderate to severe depression have apparently felt very seen by this fic. And that a story that is essentially about two characters who feel very alone and like no one can understand can help people feel LESS alone and MORE understood is simply amazing!! I love this story so much!! AHH!! Here's one from @neurovascular-entrapta that meant a lot to me.

9 Something that inspired your writing:

Grief and the need to feel things in a distant abstract-these-are-story-book-characters kind of way so I don’t have to feel my actual feelings as closely every moment of the day really kept me writing the whole year long.

10 Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):

My writing has been really raw and messy this year, and I can’t keep tenses straight to save my life. But there’s something powerful about the rawness that I really like even as all the grammatical errors and the lack of effort on the technical side of most of my stories has driven me nuts. 

I am proud of myself for being able to get back into the big projects in these last few months after not being able to face them from April to October. And I’ve started participating in a few writing events here and there again in addition to working on my own pet projects. 

11 Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

Well, I wanted to finish Not Part of the Plan in 2023, which didn’t happen only barely! So hoping the last chapter and the epilogue make it out within the next month. Once that’s done I think I want to try and make Aftermath and Right Behind You my primary focus projects this year. And of course, I’m sure new plot bunnies and writing events will take over my brain on occasion. Last year, I said I wanted my writing to become a reliable mental health tool for me again, and I’m glad to say that it definitely was that for 2023. I hope I’m able to use my writing this year to continue my healing journey. 

And maybe go and proofread all of the fics I finished in 2023 to fix all the inconsistent tense issues to prepare them for being bound eventually!

12 Anyone you would like to thank?

SO MANY PEOPLE!

@jennagrinsoverml for being one of my oldest fandom friends! For becoming a real life friend for all that we haven't actually met in person. For all the times you vented to me and listened and sent me pictures of your family and gushed over pictures of mine. I'm lucky to know you!

@ladyofthenoodle - for showing up in my DMs, For being a most insightful beta, for dragging me into a larger community over and over again, for listening to both my real struggles and my first world problems, for being my friend!!

@thelibraryloser - I don't know how to put this into words. But I very much look up to you. For your resilience through difficult times - you are role-model for how to handle this world with grace and kindness. Thank you for your stories!

@coffeebanana - for being so enthusiastic in the creation process before and after! When I have a story that is getting no attention one comment from you makes it so it doesn't matter. You give me all I need.

@bittersweetresilience and @wackus-bonkus-maximus for just being so kind and enthusiastic and supportive of any idea I happen to be talking about in any given moment. I guess for enabling me. Haha!

@blur0se and @mila-beedoodling for sharing your ideas and inspiring me to create new things!!

@asukiess, @chocoluckchipz, @sariahsue, @miabrown007 for creating so many beautiful things and for being kind and engaging in so many conversations!

And now, I'm really nervous that I'm forgetting someone because this is the first time where I feel like I've had more than three fandom friends. Haha! It's a good problem to have I suppose. In general, thank you to the miraculous community for helping me to survive this year. <3 <3 <3

Happy New Year Everyone!!

I invite anyone who wants to, to fill this out! (Or something similar because I think it can be modified for artwork pretty easily). But if you do, please tag me, so I can be a cheerleader for all you've accomplished this year!

#year in review #life of a writer #all the fanfiction I wrote this year #2023 #my reflections

[aye-write]

A Quick Guide to Varying Sentence Starters

One of the things that really winds me up about my own writing is looking back and seeing a multitude of sentences beginning with “I” or “And” or “But”. I’m a messy first-drafter as it is and I do a lot of line edits, but it’s still takes up a significant portion of my time going back to change things. 

So, I’m here today to share with you the ways I try to vary my sentence starters and some tips and tricks for drafting and edits” 

-.-.-.-

We all know why it’s important to vary your sentence structure, and by extent, your sentence starters. Besides obvious intentional things such as creating tension, or specific mood/tone/atmosphere, we should be aiming to vary how we start sentences to keep the reader engaged and not it being repetitive.

This is especially important if you, like me, write in first person and begin a lot of sentences with things like “I was” or “I am” etc. Or if you have a habit of beginning sentences with characters’ names. But what other options do we have? Here are five general categories that I like to use:

ING WORDS Coughing, she pushed her way through the blaze.  Smiling, he leaned in for a kiss. 

SIMILIES (and other techniques) Like the chattering of a typewriter, their eyes flittered over the group in front.  Sweeping in like a dove, she cut through the awkward conversation.

PREPOSITION (beside, near, with, across, around, out, at, in, etc.)  On the starter’s whistle, I pushed forward.  Under the heavy fog, the streetlamp glowed valiantly 

CONNECTIVE (Because, but, and, despite, after, before, etc.) After he left, I slipped the dagger back into its brace.  But I wasn’t about to give in now.  ED WORDS Distracted, she let the ice cream fall from her hands.  Stunned by his words, they stopped in their tracks. 

.-.-.-.

Obviously you can make these examples much more complex and attuned to your own styles! There are lots of other ways you can vary your sentence openers, these are just what I personally use - so hopefully you can get some use of them! 

.-.-.-.

Hints and Tips!

Use the highlighting treatment! Go through your WIP and focus on your sentence openers. Select a different colour for each category (Blue for She/He/They/I starters, red for ED Words, yellow for ING words, as an example) and use it to help you see where you may need to add some more variation! 

This also is a great exercise to do with a published book you really enjoy or by an author you admire - it’s a great learning experience!

Use a good mix of short, long, and medium sentences! If you find that your writing feels a bit samey or dry, even with varied openers, try changing the structure of the whole sentence itself! 

Experiment and play around with word order and structure - free write for a few minutes every day and try something new! It’s all practice and even if it never sees the light of day in your WIP, it’s still a worthwhile thing to do! 

.-.-.-.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this guide and/or found it useful!

If you’d like to request a particular guide, please pop into my inbox and leave a request!

#writing #writeblr #writing advice #writing resources #writing help #writing resource #writers #writer

[skzdreamz]

Birthday Sex - Seo Changbin

pairing: dom!Changbin x fem!reader warnings: alcohol consumption, pet names, oral receiving (reader) word count: 1.5K

a/n: I’m so sorry for keeping you guys waiting :( my school deadlines are killing me and I was too tired to finish this along with my other SEVEN drafts I’m still working on💔 but I’ll try my best to publish them as soon as possible. I hope you enjoy this one in the meantime

~

you and Changbin have been gym buddies ever since you came up to him to ask him for help. he was just doing his basic routine when you noticed him. you were starting your gym journey and had no idea where to begin. what better way to find out than walking up to this buff and handsome man?

after a long period of time of him being your personal trainer, you started to hang out besides the gym as well. you really liked his personality. you found out he was actually very bubbly and loves being all cuddly and sweet to the people he cares about most.

even though you got used to him being so touchy with you the whole day, something was different today. he was even more eager to help you with your squats today. he held you by your hips for support, even though you both know that you don’t really need that. he insisted on helping you, so you didn’t even try to fight it.

you were almost done with your last set of squats when you felt his hand slip to your ass. his fingers touching your cheeks softly. you didn’t really think much of it, since he was just trying to help you. but when he rests his hands on your ass, with no plan of moving his hands, you couldn’t help but think about all the things he could do to you with those hands.

even though Changbin was always so friendly to you, you couldn’t help thinking of him in a not so friendly way. he was the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen and his personality makes it even harder to not fall for him. you try to shake off the thoughts. after you finish your last reps, you turn around to face him and you’re faced with his dark eyes.

you feel your panties already starting to get embarrassingly wet and you can’t help but rub the thighs together. you immediately see his eyes travel down to your legs as you do so, embarrassment washing over you instantly. you look at the ground and fidget with your fingers trying to come up with something to say, but he beat you to it.

“no need to get all shy now baby” he smirks. you look at him and regret it instantly. his dark eyes piercing into your shy ones. your usually outgoing persona flew out the door to moment you met his eyes.

he takes a step forward, his face inching closer to yours. you hold your breath, too scared to even breathe his air. you turn your head in embarrassment, but he grabs your chin and makes you look at him. he brings his face even closer. lips barely touching, as he whispers “I think workout time here is done”

he let’s go of your chin and starts walking away to grab his stuff. you can’t believe what just happened. still struck by the moment you stand there with your eyes wide open. you watch as he finishes packing his stuff and getting ready to get out of the gym. “see you tomorrow for your birthday?” he winks at you.

you can only nod at him. you stand there for a few more minutes, processing what had just happened. were you hallucinating or did he just try to make a move on you. you shake off the thought and tell yourself to not overthink it too much. Changbin has an outgoing personality and loves to tease you, so it’s probably nothing.

~

the next day you’re getting ready for your birthday party. you invited some friends over at your place to celebrate. everyone seems to be enjoying their times after arriving at your place. you’re happy to see everyone having fun.

you walk to the kitchen to get another drink. as you were about to pour the vodka in your cup, you get startled by a voice calling your name, making you spill the vodka on your dress. you turn around and see Changbin walking up to you. “sorry I didn’t mean to scare you birthday girl” he chuckles as he grabs some tissues to clean you up.

flashbacks of your little moment at the gym are coming back to you when you feel him wiping away the alcohol on your dress. “I think I just need to change into something else”. as you turn around, he grabs your wrist. “no we’ll fix it, let me help you with that”. you give him a quick nod assuring him it’s fine to follow you to the bathroom.

as soon as you’re both in the bathroom he locks the door. you’re too focused on getting the stain out of your dress to notice him walking towards you. he takes your hand in his. you look up at him with a confused look on your face. “you’re so pretty you know that?” he smiles at you. you don’t know if it’s because of the alcohol, but your whole body starts feeling warm and tingly after hearing him say that.

he brings his free hand to your cheek, softly caressing it. “can I give you a present?” he asks, his gaze on your lips. you feel your cheeks burning up even more. “y-yeah.. sure, don’t you want to give it to me downstairs? I think my friends would like to see all the presents as well” you chuckle nervously. “I don’t think they’d want to see this one” he smirks.

his words shoot right down to your core, making you rub your thighs together. he steps impossibly closer to you, his mouth right by your ear. “I’m going to touch you now, you don’t mind, right?” you hear the smirk in his voice. you grab his face bringing his lips closer to yours. “please”

he wastes no time picking you up and putting you on the sink. he kisses you passionately before traveling down to your jaw and your neck. his kisses are gentle, but the lust is evident. you reach for the hem of his shirt, signaling him to take it off. he brings his face back to yours. “you want it off?” you nod shyly.

“I would make you work for it, but that’s for another day” he lifts you off of the sink, putting you back on your feet. “strip for me” you immediately take off your dress and panties leaving you butt naked in front of him. you feel relieved that you have a bit of alcohol in your system. you were sure you would feel embarrassed standing there naked while he’s still fully clothed.

“you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to see you like this” he caresses your waist, admiring your whole body. you smile like an idiot hearing those words from him. he gives you a few more kisses before picking you up again. you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, keeping him close to you.

he backs you up against the wall. his now hard cock rubbing against your naked cunt. all you can hear is heavy breathing and groans from both you and him. you don’t have to worry about people hearing you, because of the loud music coming from the living room. and you couldn’t be more thankful, because the groans that are slipping past his lips are the most beautiful sounds you’ve ever heard.

you bring your hand down to your cunt, wanting to rub some circles on your clit to relieve the frustration growing in your body. Changbin notices your hand going down and immediately pulls away from your lips. “come on now baby girl..” he says as he let’s his eyes wander down to your hand that’s now covering your cunt. “.. that’s what I’m here for” he smirks.

he puts you back down on your feet. “hold onto me, yeah?” you nod, excitement rushing through your whole body. he starts kissing your neck and traveling down your body. he stops just at your hip. Changbin looks up at you, trying to search for any discomfort. he takes it as a sign to continue once he feels your hand reaching for his locks. he grins and immediately plunges his tongue in your cunts.

his tongue is lapping up all of your juices, making you moan out loud. you mentally thank yourself for putting on some loud music for your friends. the grip on Changbin’s hair is getting tighter and tighter the harsher he starts sucking on your clit. your hand pulling on his hair makes him groans into your cunt.

you feel your high approaching quickly and you’re sure your legs would’ve given up on you if Changbin’s strong arms weren’t wrapped around your thighs. your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel your orgasm ripping through your whole body. he guides you through your orgasm, stroking your thighs sweetly.

you don’t even notice Changbin now standing in front of you again. your eyes still closed due to the intense orgasm. he strokes your cheek softly making you open your eyes. you’re met with his loving gaze and you can’t help but connect your lips against his for the nth time that night. time seemed to stand still kissing him so sweetly and being engulfed into his big arms. you’ve never felt this safe.

after what felt like forever, you separate your lips from his. placing your hands on both his cheeks and giving him a quick peck on his nose. he scrunches his nose and flashes you his bright smile that soon changes into a grin.

“there’s another present in your bedroom, wanna check it out?”

~

taglist: @softyoogi @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @sillyrabbit76 @luvshuu @stray-kids-smut1246

#stray kids #stray kids smut #skz #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz smut #skz fanfic #changbin #changbin smut #seo changbin

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Wilbert's Worst

Right, so I really was open to having my mind changed on The Worst One but nobody’s argument has budged me.

I was going to write a complete, balanced essay on The Worst W. Awdry Book, but I’m a) mired in the research phase (hey if anyone knows someone with an encyclopedic knowledge of Tom and Jerry hit me up, for real) and b) right now I wanna talk about the characters and their Beloved Dynamics instead. 

So I'm just gonna get this out of the way so I can post the poll and move on to answering fun asks and watching Tom and Jerry in peace. Behold: a salty and unbalanced review.

Wilbert’s biggest failure of a children’s storybook? 

Henry the Green Engine 

Ohhh… because of the, uh, ra —?

Because of the racism, yes!

Oh. You do know that since 1972 they’ve republished it without the n-slur? 

Good for them. Two things: 

1. I know it used to be there, I’m never able to read it without knowing it was there in the first edition.

2. I consistently try, when ranking the books, to consider them in the context in which they came out. Because of this, I don’t like using “things that happened later” (like a new character never being properly used again or whatever) against the book. This helps me evaluate the author’s successes and failures against what they were trying to achieve when they wrote it vs what I would most want (blorbo content). It helps me not bring to bear the whole weight of fanon and fandom on a text that should be able to stand or fall on its own. Tl;dr I try to read the books like a guy who picked it up in 1951, or whatever. 

And yeah, if I’d bought this when it came out it would have had the slur. I’m going to judge it accordingly. 

Look, racism is bad, no argument, but does that mean the book as a whole must be condemned? 

Yeah, I think the slur and the “aaaand suddenly, blackface! heeheehee” bullshit fuck over the entire book, game over. Go directly to jail, do not collect $200. 

The Railway Series is not a work of high art or deep thorny complex literature. The books are meant for children — small children, at that. Children small enough to get bedtime stories read to them. The main goal of each book (especially this early on — you do have to manage secondary priorities like “pleasing the long-time fanbase” the longer you go, but right now we’re only 6 books into the series) is to create a happy imaginary world to enhance childhoods and family lives… to impart to other parents and kids a similar cosy happiness to that the author and his own kids enjoyed when he was workshopping/drafting the stories for them. When we say “children’s book” we really do mean little’uns — these average 1.25 full-color illustrations per page!

And these books sold in large numbers. This means it’s a certainty that somewhere in 1951 there was a Black family who owned the whole series, who went out to the shops, whose kid was like “ooh! Henry gets a book, neat…,” who like everyone else enjoyed the wild ride of Henry’s inspection and coal and wreck and rebuild… only to get verbally spat on one page from the end. 

Real mood-killer there. Epic fail, as the cool kids used to say in my youth. 

All right, fine, cool kids never said that. Anyway, statistically speaking there was certainly even more than one family that got that experience. Not to mention the non-Black families who even in 1951 were like “... wtf? i’d smack my kid if they ever said a word like that around me, geez. no.” Just a lot of people who had the light the book was kindling in them snuffed out all at once. 

You can actually be totally racist and your book not commit creative suicide on the penultimate page! Awdry flubbed his job of 'bestselling books-for-six-year-olds' here. Creative failure. Unforced error. Automatic zero. 

But times were different then, you have to consider it in the context of the time. 

1951 U.K. was not the nadir of multiracial equality or Black power, but jfc. I can assure you that over 99% of children’s books published that year in the Anglosphere managed to not use the n-slur. 

All right, all right. That was bad. But this feels off-topic. If you had never known about what used to be “Henry’s Sneeze,” would you still rank the entire book as dead last in the Wilbert Awdry corpus? 

Not dead last, but it is not a strong book. “Coal” and “The Flying Kipper” are super-interesting as material for Henry, but after that the book kind of falls off a cliff; the intrigue drops dramatically. The railway incidents chosen to make stories of are all solid choices, but it was not only “Sneeze” where Awdry’s handling of the material feels clumsy and weird. (And I’m not even talking here of the “heehee blackface — ain’t i a stinker?” gag in “Sneeze.”) 

But… “The Flying Kipper”? C’mon. It’s a superb story and no book that contains it can be the absolute worst in the series. 

“TFK” remains easily the best single TVS episode ever – but a lot of that is down to Britt and David’s artistry and judgment. 

Don’t get me wrong, a full-on railway wreck makes interesting material. But I don’t think the book does nearly as much with it as it could (and I’m trying sooooo hard here to forget about the amazing TVS adaptation, as I think it REALLY shows Awdry up. Even so, the storytelling here is surprisingly tepid and low-stakes). I get that Awdry probably wanted to lean into the comic angle and not make Henry’s condition afterwards seem too grave, in order to ensure the material wasn’t too dark for his young audience? (*mutters* again, a level of tender consideration for his readers’ youth that went right out the window when it came to small Black kids, evidently coz he couldn’t imagine that they read) Understandable, laudable — but if he outright refuses* to make the wreck too dramatic or scary then, well, then the wreck isn’t real scary or dramatic. And it can’t save the rest of the book from its flaws. 

*For all I know it could have been the publishers who insisted that the wreck be made preschooler-safe, that’s possible (although it’s also consistent with Awdry’s brand of humor and his overall low degree of emotionalism in his writing). Either way, though, the end result book is what it is and it will be judged accordingly. 

In addition to not being as exciting as many remember... @trainsupessandhuntresses asked me once if I thought some of Awdry's stories were "mean-spirited." I had to assent vigorously. And a surprisingly high proportion of those "mean" moments are in Henry the Green Engine? For some reason? It’s not just the racism. Awdry was not in the game to give Henry a deserved happy ending, he’d wanted to kill him off (the fuck?) and when his publishers prevented him (I don’t say this often, especially since I love how salty the Awdrys get about their publishers, but this in case good job, publishers!!) he wrote “TFK” with the primary motivation of giving Henry a new engine basis. Any soft or hearty emotions we get out of the deal are a side-effect — the only emotion that was fueling Awdry as he wrote this was spite, spite and a weird resentment towards his poor, long-suffering, invaluable illustrator. (I don’t blame Awdry for being frustrated that the engine illustrations were continually inaccurate or confusing, but I do think it’s weird to read all this great Henry material knowing that it was written with such poor grace.) 

So his ‘happy Henry’ stuff feels perfunctory; his Percy interlude is just brutal (why did you have to drag Percy into Henry’s book purely to give him a fuck-up, a scolding, and a messy dunce cap?); Gordon’s savaging of Henry for being too happy after recovering from a near-death experience is such an incredibly low point for Gordon that it’s hard for me to accept it as canon (there’s being proud, boastful, and self-absorbed, and then there’s being the straight-up raccoon dumpster fire Gordon is in that scene). Oh, and I think “call the police [local constabulary, doesn’t bear firearms]” woulda probably a less reckless way of dealing with the rock-throwing youths than the sneeze of hot locomotive ashes, which of course the Fat Controller doesn’t like, that shit coulda been real dangerous! Mind, there are small rays of kindness throughout that do get me (the interactions between Henry and his crew feeling to me the least perfunctory and most heartfelt), but this is overall such a mean-spirited book. God. It starts off with such a gentle story (almost a non-story, if you’re in it purely for the “railway incidents” game and not character drama), but in short order the vibes just sorta suck. At least in other RWS books, when the vibes are off, they’re usually off near the beginning and then improve by the end. This one gets worse as it goes on. Oof. Don’t like that. 

Also, the last page is sooooo lame. I suspect the publisher strong-armed Awdry into writing most of it so that at least the slur wasn’t on the last page of the book... and if Awdry had any idea of how much he’d just empowered Henry and all his fans in this book he shouldn’t have found it hard to find 50 extra words to sum things up. As it was, he’s just filling space and running out the clock, lol. Lame wrap-up. Boring. As usual when it comes to every little thing about this book, Britt and David closed this up better (mind, their closer – “He had taught Gordon and silly boys a lesson, with a whistle and a sneeze” – also sucked. But at least it was blessedly short.)

Didn’t you once list HtGE on a list of your favorite Wilbert Awdry books? 

I did list it as one of the books that “at one time or another” have been my favorite in the series. Unfortunately in the case of HtGE, that was back when I really couldn’t read a story that I knew from the TVS without mentally substituting the adaptation into my brain as I read… largely overriding the actual text. Plus, everything I knew from TVS as a kid kind of automatically got a halo effect. Plus, I was super into Henry’s arc. 

The first time I read HtGE after calming down and actually reading all the books as books... massive disappointment. There is such a gap there between what I'd thought the book said (all our incredible fanon work overanalyzing and headcanoning Henry and building this beautiful fantasy arc about disability!) vs. what it actually said (limp and careless writing, mean vibes, airbrushed n-slur, bad aftertaste). 

I do think there is some stuff about the development of Awdry’s storytelling technique here that is interesting (again, Tom and Jerry superfans reading this, please shoot me a message!) but it doesn’t counteract everything else. 

At least we’re over the racism stuff? 

Nah, I’m not over it, actually. 

#showed his whole ass #an rws book shouldn’t leave a nasty taste in your mouth #but! here we are #okay this rant was not as short as i thought it'd be #but again. there will be a proper analysis in the fullness of time. #henry the green engine (rws) #rws discussion #racism tw #slur mention tw

[ugh-yoongi]

threw a punch in a bar | knj

(or, nothing good happens when a man you’d accidentally knocked out in a bar fight tells you to run.)

→ pairing: namjoon x f. reader → genre: zombie!au | crack, smut → rating: explicit. minors dni. → warnings: swearing, alcohol, a guy gets pushy in a bar, this results in a bar fight (mentioned broken bones, but nothing is described in explicit detail), vague american setting in order to drag the us healthcare system, side vmin, taehyung has klepto tendencies but he steals from wal-mart so it’s fine, really mid smut including: kissing, very slight dom!joon, grinding/thigh riding, implied oral (f. receiving), fingering, reader drops a bryce harper quote during sex, namjoon’s dick is big but we knew that, this is cancelled out by his horrible dirty talk, unprotected sex, vmin’s dumpling fight but make it settlers of catan. this is technically a zombie fic, but the circumstances are 99% in the background. there is nothing gory here, just sort of found family vibes centered around an apocalypse. also when i said the smut is mid i meant it. everyone has himbo tendencies except yoonjin. → wordcount: 11k → a/n: started this forever ago after doing one of those twt pause games on who i’d be stuck with in the zombie apocalypse. my result was vmin & namjoon, which birthed the idea of vmin spending the entire apocalypse subtly trying to convince you to sacrifice yourself for them. i was going to publish the draft of this on halloween but decided to finish it, went into a trance, and added 9k words, so please accept my late and humble offering. → thank yous: lauren, bee, and jess as always for all of their help: beta’ing, general feedback, constructive criticism, telling me when my shit doesn’t make sense. @effortandmore​ / @hot-soop​ / @the-boy-meets-evil​

Any bartender worth their salt knows you don’t mix tequila and brandy.

Jimin, apparently, is only worth enough salt to rim a margarita glass.

All because he’s chaos incarnate: an absolute hellion of a person who causes problems just because. The type of person who calls a drink something innocuous like Tipsy Meow because it sounds sweet and he knows it’ll get people to order it. Sometimes he even serves them in glasses with cats painted on them, which is really cute and endearing and gets people to order that drink in the cute cat glass despite the fact that that drink in the cute cat glass is tequila and brandy.

In any other bar, that drink would be called something appropriate and applicable, like a Knockout.

Because that’s what it does—starts bar fights.

Which Jimin knows, because he’s actually a very competent bartender, but he likes to cause problems on purpose, especially on Tuesday nights when there’s not much else going on.

“Why did you do that?” Yoongi asks, watching some poor, unsuspecting woman practically skip back to her table with two Tipsy Meows in hand.

Jimin just smiles and shrugs. “Because,” he answers, eyes twinkling with something underhanded, “that tall guy at the high-top? He’s been eyeing her all night. She wouldn’t go for it on a good day, but after one of those?” A low whistle under his breath.

Yoongi just stares. He’s known Jimin a long time, going on six years now, so he’s never truly surprised at how duplicitous he can be, but sometimes he pretends for appearance’s sake. “Evil.”

“Not evil,” Jimin retorts, eyes rolled, “just bored.”

Snorting, Yoongi whips the towel off his shoulder and starts wiping down the bar. “Then do a fucking crossword puzzle.”

Jimin waves him away. “I’m not good at them. I’m good at this.”

“Getting people to fight in our bar?” Yoongi clarifies. Jimin nods. They stare at each other for a minute before Yoongi shrugs and finds some menial task to busy himself with. “Whatever. You’re on clean-up duty, though. The last time you pulled this shit, I was sweeping up glass for three fuckin’ days.”

Because he’s chaos incarnate, Jimin’s response is a sarcastic salute, two fingers pressed to his forehead as Yoongi flips him off in return.

Something is wrong.

You’ve been to this bar countless times, have always ordered the same thing. Always made sure to stick to your limits, because college had been both an exercise in adulting and maintaining a functioning liver.

Maybe it’s because the mint-haired guy didn’t make your drinks this time. Truthfully, you’ve been wary of him for a while, convinced he’s been watering them down just to get you to buy more. Not that you’re complaining. In all the years you’ve been coming here, you’ve never made a fool of yourself.

Now, though?

Now you’re very rapidly approaching find the nearest trashcan ASAP territory. I’m going to regret this in the morning territory. This hasn’t happened since that frat party sophomore year territory.

Yeah, that party. You’d drank something god-awful that night, too. Got roped into a game of strip poker in a seedy basement and walked away with $2,000, three nickels, and a half-used KFC gift card, only down a sock. Some douchebag frat bro hadn’t liked that very much, accused you of cheating and gave you a real hard time about it. Long story short, you’d been fueled by too many of the suspicious drinks and knocked him out.

This feels a lot like that.

Because you’re drunk, yes, but there’s something else lurking beneath the surface. Something that’s itching for a fight. Something that’s been dormant for a long time.

(This is a startling realization, because you’re not a violent person, despite all evidence to the contrary. You’ve only ever thrown one punch in your life. It’s really not your fault that it wound up being the punch heard ‘round the world.)

Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it. Your sixth grade history teacher had that quote hung on the wall and you haven’t thought about it until now. Because there’s a guy approaching your table—probably six-foot, wearing an expensive watch and polished shoes—and he’s been eyeing your friend all night. Had made a few crude comments to his buddies that you’d regretfully overheard, and you’re all out of sorts because the mint-haired bartender hadn’t made your drinks, so he’s nearly got his elbows on the table when you say—

“Fuck off, asshole.”

Both your friend and the guy look equally shocked. “Excuse me?” he says, looking back to the idiots at his table in disbelief.

You roll your eyes, blood beginning to boil. “I said fuck off. She’s not interested.”

“And she can’t speak for herself?” he retorts, all faux-chivalry now that everyone’s attention is on him, even though the bar is practically deserted at nine o’clock on a Tuesday. “Your friend’s a little uptight, huh?” he says, shifting his attention fully away from you.

God, you always do this—befriend the most wholesome people in the room. The ones who always assume the best in others; the ones who can’t say no; the ones who feel guilty speaking up. This friend is no different. Looks at you like a deer about to get rearranged by a car, all wide, panicked eyes and a tight-lipped smile, only polite out of obligation.

What happens next is shocking to everyone except Jimin and Yoongi. Safe behind the bar, the two of them watch as you tell the man to fuck off one more time. He refuses, his attention still laser-focused on your friend, reaching for her. Someone appears to his left—another stranger, this one taller and wider in all the right places and exuding far less scumbag energy—and places a large hand on his shoulder. Leans down to say something to him that you don’t catch. Whatever it is, you’re assuming it’s said in that brand of tense politeness men use with other men before they threaten to knock them out.

Regardless of what’s said, the original douchebag just snorts derisively, jutting his shoulder backwards to get the stranger’s hand off of him. This really bothers you, for all the obvious reasons. Why can’t this idiot take no for an answer? What’s his fucking deal?

Apparently you voice the latter out loud, and the bastard is laughing again, lips turned upwards in an ugly little sneer. Far too quickly, you go from bothered but mostly in control to seeing red and cocking back. All because the mint-haired bartender hadn’t mixed your drinks. Now you’re punching some pushy asshole in the jaw and are probably going to get arrested.

“Oh shit,” you hear, but it sounds like you’re underwater. It’s certainly not a voice you recognize, but you only know one person in this bar and you just punched someone to make sure she didn’t get harassed by some asshole who couldn’t take a fucking hint.

Pain erupts in your hand. There’s probably something broken, maybe multiple somethings, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it before someone’s grabbing you by the elbow and dragging you out of the bar.

A shame, you think; you’d really like to see how much of a pissbaby that guy turns into when he catches sight of his own blood.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

You groan. Whatever room you’re in is far too bright and far too loud, which means you’re probably at home already being lectured by Hoseok. You crack an eye open, and—yep, that’s Hoseok, usual human embodiment of sunshine who is now staring at you like a grumpy little rain cloud. “What’re you talking about?” you grumble, fingers flying to your temples to ease some of the throbbing pain.

Hoseok must be pretty pissed, because he just watches you clutch at your aching head and doesn’t say a word. Usually you can guilt trip him into making you coffee and buttered toast. Grabbing you some pain killers, at the very least, but he’s not budging. You swallow hard.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Not really,” you answer. You’ve been awake for approximately three seconds and your two brain cells haven’t connected to form a rational thought yet, let alone conjure up whatever shenanigans you got into the night before. “I think I went out for drinks with the new hire from work, but that’s it.”

“Mehmehmeh but that’s it,” Hoseok mimics under his breath, voice pitched far too high to ever pass as yours, looking more and more incensed by the second. Everyone told you he’d be too neurotic to live with. You should’ve listened. “Do you remember drinking too much and punching a guy?”

Ah, that would explain why your hand is fifty shades of purple, you think. “Ah, that would explain why my hand is fifty shades of purple,” you say.

Hoseok looks like he’s ready to explode. “Can you fucking take this seriously,” he seethes. “You’re too old to be getting wasted and starting bar fights! What in the actual fuck is wrong with you? You broke a man’s nose, you fucking maniac! What if he calls the cops? God, what if he sues you? Do you have lawsuit money? Because I sure as fuck don’t, not that I would bail you out of jail for this, anyway, because you don’t deserve it—”

“I broke someone’s nose?” Far too late, you realize you should’ve kept that proud wonder out of your voice.

Hoseok’s up and screeching before you can plug your ears. “You are un-fucking-believable! I have to leave. I can’t sit here another second and listen to this.” He’s fussing over his clothes and hair as soon as he’s on his feet, distress seeping out of every pore. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot and I made sure to save you two slices of bread,” he grits out, as if it’s causing him immense pain to be nice to you right now, before adding, “and there’s also aspirin and water on your nightstand. I would not recommend taking it on an empty stomach.”

And then he’s gone.

You microwave the mug of coffee and choke down the toast that’s grown suspiciously hard. You swallow two aspirin with coffee even though you know better and should be drinking the water, but the water has been sitting out for god knows how long and probably has dust particles and other gross things in it. You take a long shower to wash away the bar grime and hangover remnants and nearly crumble to the floor in pain when you try to wash your hair.

Right, your hand.

It’d been easy enough to ignore when you were focusing on not vomiting and taking your painkillers, but not so much anymore. Even if Hoseok hadn’t told you you’d punched someone, you could’ve pieced that much together—the bruising is severe and the swelling even more so. Trying to bend your fingers feels like a fate worse than death, so you salvage your shower as best you can before getting dressed one-handed and ordering an Uber to the nearest urgent care.

Which, much to your horror, is packed.

Every seat is taken except for one next to a man with a baseball cap pulled low and a thawed-out ice pack in his hand. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you sit next to him, and you’re almost offended until you spot the AirPods in his ears. God, he must’ve been here forever if he’s brave enough to plug his ears in a place that unashamedly sends you to the back of the line if you don’t answer when your name is called.

You need to know what you’re getting into, so you tap him on the shoulder and ask, “Hey, how long have you been here?”

The man seems flustered. He reaches for his phone and sends it plummeting to the floor, and when he retrieves it you notice the screen is cracked to hell so this must be a common occurrence. “Oh, uh. I’m not sure,” he says, voice all nasally like he’s got a bad cold. “Maybe two hours or so?”

You groan. “Two hours? Are you for real?” He just nods, still not meeting your eye. You pull out your phone, too, then, and put in the web address for the hospital. “D’you think the wait times are less shitty at the ER?”

“Maybe.”

“You didn’t look? No offense, but you sound pretty awful. I figured you’d want to get whatever it is taken care of sooner rather than later.”

The man snorts. Sounds painful. “Yeah, well. I work at a shitty nonprofit and the only insurance tier I could afford had a two-thousand-dollar deductible, so I’ll take my chances here.”

You hum in sympathy. “Do you believe in karma and reincarnation and all that? Because I do, and I think I must’ve been pretty fucking terrible in a past life to be born in a country without free healthcare in this lifetime.” The man beside you grunts in agreement. “Like, shit. What if I was Norwegian in a past life? Or, like, Canadian?”

“Only worth being Canadian if you’re not Indigenous.”

“Hm, yeah, that’s true. What human rights violations have the Norwegians committed?”

“No clue.”

“I’m gonna Google it,” you decide. Then, a second later, “Not great being Indigenous in Norway, either.”

“Is everyone shitty?” the man asks, pressing the warm ice pack back to his face. You wince on his behalf.

“Yeah.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him pause his music. An album cover you don’t recognize, because this guy definitely strikes you as the underground type: paid Spotify account with immaculate playlists full of artists no one else has heard of, either. Probably imports half of his own shit, too, so his playlists only work on his own phone and everyone yells at him when they try to play his playlists and get nothing but silence.

“What about you?” he asks, and it’s a question that should sound greasy but just sounds really sad with his clogged nose. “Are you shitty?”

“Yep,” you answer instantly, holding up your hand. You’d managed to wrangle an elastic bandage around it, but the bruising is obvious and not easily hidden.

The man whistles. “Damn, how’d you do that?”

“Punched a guy in a bar fight, apparently.”

In hindsight, it should be obvious, the cruel joke the universe is playing on you: you, with your mottled, probably-broken hand; the man next to you, with a black eye and an ice pack pressed to his nose. Right church, wrong pew, your mother always used to say about you, and you’d taken it then as a nod to your creativity and ingenuity, but now you’re thinking you might just be fucking stupid.

Because the atmosphere immediately shifts. The man goes stiff, pauses, tenses his shoulders. Then he asks, “Yeah? What bar? I might’ve heard about it.”

And you might be fucking stupid but you’re not dumb, so you just shrug. “Oh, I don’t know,” you reply, doing your best impression of a person with nothing between their ears. “My coworker dragged me out, and I like her fine, y’know, but if I’m being honest, I don’t know how long she’s gonna last. I think she’s too nice. Well, I thought she was too nice, but then she invited me out for drinks and invited me to this crazy bar with horrible, violent people—”

“And you punched someone,” the man finishes for you, cutting short your tirade.

“Supposedly punched someone,” you correct. “I have no recollection of it, but that’s what my roommate said. He was shrieking and used his Serious Mom Voice so I’m inclined to believe him, though.” You try to wiggle your fingers and have to suppress a scream. “Plus I can’t move my hand, so there’s that.”

This is the part where you get yelled at. You can feel it. The man beside you is about to blow up, demand your name and phone number so he can report you for assault, probably also demand some money because he’d just talked about his god-awful insurance and you’re the entire reason he’s here, but the universe may be cruel but it��s also fair, because—

“Nam…joon?” a bored medical assistant calls out. The man startles, curses under his breath that no one even attempts to pronounce his name correctly, drops his phone again, and if you weren’t glued to your chair in fear you might’ve picked it up for him.

Namjoon stands—he’s fucking massive, and if this is the guy you actually punched, you’ll spare a second later to marvel at yourself—and looks down at you. Sends you the meanest, most murderous glare he can muster, clenched jaw and all, and then he’s disappearing behind a door.

You… feel bad.

It’s not like you’d meant to punch him. You hadn’t wanted to punch anyone! And that has to count for something, so when he comes back out you’ll plead your case and offer to buy him a late lunch, because if he’d been waiting hours you’ll be waiting longer, and maybe he’ll find you just endearing enough to forget that you’d broken his nose and the two of you will become friends. You’ll do the Best Person speech at his wedding and laugh about the time you’d punched him, or maybe you’d be marrying him and—

Pump the brakes.

You love a good enemies-to-lovers, but maybe not so much in real life.

  The wait is torturous.

An hour ticks by. You text Hoseok, tell him about the man you’d met and ask if he thinks it’s The Guy, and Hoseok writes back with a very pointed, I fucking hope it is. You’re not sure what that means. Does he hope Namjoon is the guy so you can apologize? So you can make sure he’s okay? Surely he wouldn’t be hoping for Namjoon to even the score and break your nose, too, but he was really mad this morning so you wouldn’t put it past him.

Another half hour. If you’d been paying attention, you would’ve realized how eerily quiet the waiting room has grown. No idle chatter, no coughing, no pained groans. People seem to be going in but not coming out, and you’ve been paying attention to that much, at least, so you can catch Namjoon.

And then the door slams open.

Namjoon stands there, nose stuffed with a cartoonish amount of gauze and a large splint across the bridge. He’s breathing hard. Looks like he’d just ran a marathon, which doesn’t make sense because how large can the backend of an urgent care really be, but then his eyes found you and—

“Run,” is all he says.

Nothing good happens when a man you’d accidentally knocked out in a bar fight tells you to run. Fucking stupid but not dumb, though, so you’re up and out of your seat before he can repeat himself.

Although you’re not sure where you’re supposed to go. You’d taken an Uber, and you can’t really order an emergency one of those. Besides, all Namjoon had said was run but not why, so you’re also not sure if it even is an emergency.

So here you are, standing in the middle of the parking lot like a bozo while Namjoon fumbles with the keys to a pickup truck. “Hey!” you call out, stomping towards him. “Are you gonna tell me what the fuck’s going on?”

Namjoon looks up only long enough to catch your eye. “You need to get out of here,” is all he says. Which is supremely and deservedly unhelpful.

“Why? I ca—I took an Uber here, I don’t have a car. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go or why I had to run out of there or if this is DEFCON 5 or DEFCON 1—”

“One,” Namjoon answers. “It’s definitely DEFCON 1.” Door unlocked, Namjoon meets your gaze again, deadly serious. “I’m not fucking around. You need to get out of here. Right now.”

This has to be a joke. He’s mad you’d broken his nose and now he’s getting his revenge. Still, you’re not all that keen to pay hundreds of dollars in medical bills for them to tell you something you already know, so you’ll play along. “Fine. Can I get a ride, then?”

“No.”

“So it’s an emergency but you won’t give me a ride.”

Namjoon glares at you. “You broke my fucking nose!”

“But I also broke my own hand, so we’re even.” It’s absolutely not a fair trade, but Namjoon seems to chew it over nonetheless. “Hey, c’mon, you wouldn’t leave me here! You’d feel too guilty.”

“How would you know?”

“Because you work at a nonprofit and care about human rights violations, and I am a human with rights, and it’d definitely be a violation to leave me here in a DEFCON 1-level emergency when I don’t even know what’s going on—”

Namjoon slaps a hand over your mouth. A large hand. A very, very large hand that easily covers half of your face. You’ll blame your pathetic whimper on fear. “I saw some shit in there, okay?”

“What kind of shit, though. Urgent cares are weird. Ominous little vortexes where reality is altered. You ever been in one at night? Like 28 Days Later vibes—”

“Yes!” Namjoon snaps his fingers. “Yes, that! Exactly like that!”

Your relief is palpable. You sag a little. “Oh! So it was just weird in there? What, did you get a creepy doctor or something?”

“No.” He groans. Runs his hands down his face. “Not the vibes part, the—”

“The zombie part?” you whisper.

Just then, the entrance slams open, people pouring into the parking lot. Most are screaming, which prompts you to scream in response, so Namjoon screams too and drops his keys. You’re picking them up before you can think twice, pulling the door open and pushing him inside of the truck. There’s something to be said about the way you manhandle him, how ripped his back feels through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and the view of his ass as he climbs over the center and into the passenger seat, but whatever weird shit is going on takes precedence.

You climb in behind him. Shut the door and lock it, and then you’re rolling down the window to adjust the side mirrors while Namjoon just shoots you an exasperated look. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Do you want us to crash and die? I’ve seen movies like this, okay, and someone always dies some stupid, avoidable death because they forget something obvious.”

“Yeah, it’s usually don’t read the weird Latin incantation in that book or don’t go outside to investigate weird noises, not checking your mirrors!” He pauses. “Hey, wait! They’re not even your mirrors! You’re fucking up all my shit!”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I’m getting us out of here.”

During Namjoon’s stunned silence, you turn the ignition and peel out of the parking lot as best you can with one good hand, tailspinning onto the main road, tires squealing. “That was… kind of hot.”

“What, me telling you to shut up or my driving?”

“...Both?”

“I—yeah, that’s fair. You’re big, but you seem like the type to enjoy getting pushed around.” Namjoon stays quiet, and when you dare a glance over at him, his cheeks are red. “Did you get a boner when I punched you?”

That actually gets a laugh out of him. “Don’t go there.” You shrug.

The two of you drive for a while. There’s nothing in the rearview mirror. No one behind you. Really, the world around you seems normal, quiet, still. It almost has you second-guessing everything you’d seen, all the things Namjoon had said. And you don’t know him beyond breaking his nose, but everything in you is screaming to trust him.

So you do.

“Hey, do you mind if we swing by my place? It’s, like, two minutes away, and I should probably grab some stuff.”

Namjoon just shrugs.

Surprisingly, there’s very little time to panic. Namjoon sets about grabbing whatever he can from the kitchen and the bathroom while you shove clothes into a large duffel. You grab your laptop and chargers and Namjoon’s scoff is loud when you ask if you should bring your vibrator, too, but he doesn’t say no, so into the bag it goes.

Hoseok comes home in the midst of your ransacking. You meet him in the living room and, aside from the small look of confusion, he seems much happier to see you than he’d been this morning. “Hi,” he says. Sounds normal, too. Doesn’t sound like he’d seen some weird apocalypse shit outside. “Where is there a tall man in our kitchen shoving all our food into bags?”

“Ah, right, that.” You suck in a breath. “Hobi, go pack up whatever you care about and meet us back here in five minutes. There’s some Train to Busan shit going on and we’ve gotta get moving.”

“Yo, what the fuck!” Namjoon yells from the kitchen. “Are you just saying that because I’m Korean?”

Hoseok had looked dubious before, but seems to fall into blind trust upon hearing the strange, tall man in his kitchen is also Korean. “Hey, me too!” When Namjoon comes skittering into the living room, they shoot matching finger guns at one another and do a weird bro-dap. “Oh!” Hoseok says, recognition blooming. “Are you the guy? The nose guy?”

Namjoon just glares at you.

“That’s him,” you answer instead. “Go pack, please. I’m serious.”

Hoseok is scared of everything: spiders, his shadow, carousel animals, your neighbor’s dog because it’s fifteen years old and blind and lost half its fur. He once had nightmares for a week after you’d made him watch the first Goosebumps movie and insisted on sleeping in your room. Had nightmares again after he saw a particularly sinister Squishmallow at Wal-Mart. So, yeah. It’s imperative you convince him to come with you because he stands no chance on his own.

You don’t expect him to shrug and go off to pack.

“Hey, did one of you grab any ibuprofen?”

“Yeah, got it,” Namjoon replies.

“What about allergy medicine? I get really bad sinus headaches so I’ll be miserable without it, but if it’s too much I guess I could—”

“Pack it,” you shout back.

There’s a loud crash from his room. Another smaller one seconds later. “I’m fine!” he calls out. “Hey, cool! I found a bag of Twizzlers!”

“Hoseok—”

“Bring the Twizzlers, please!” Namjoon says, cheeks warming again. “What? I like them.”

It’s your turn to glare. “If I get eaten over some goddamn Twizzlers.”

“At least you’d be strawberry flavored?” Namjoon offers, as unhelpful as ever. Then, before you can respond, “Hey, man, are you almost ready? I texted my roommate and he’s good to go but I still need to pack up all my shit, too.”

“One sec!”

Approximately fifteen seconds later, Hoseok reappears in your living room with a bookbag, a duffel bag, and an oversized rolling suitcase.

“This isn’t a vacation, Hobi,” you deadpan.

He looks at you like you’re a moron. Fucking stupid but not dumb, you remind yourself. “Okay, but I’m not leaving all my nice clothes here to get eaten by zombie moths or whatever. There’s Off-White in here.”

Namjoon nods in understanding. “Valid.”

It’s not worth the argument. The three of you pile back into Namjoon’s truck, you stuck in the middle of the bench seat this time while Namjoon drives. Hoseok babbles the entire way, seemingly unfazed by this bizarre situation in which you’ve found yourselves. He tells you about the cafe he’d met a friend at, the latte he ordered and didn’t like. You can only tell he’s starting to get nervous because he devolves into more and more unhinged chatter. One second he’s telling you about a dog he saw wearing a little sweater and the next he’s rattling off the digits to his social security number.

“Forget you heard that,” you say to Namjoon.

He looks pained as he replies, “Unfortunately I have a god-tier echoic memory so I am physically incapable of doing that.” He feels your stare. “I’m really sorry, I can’t help it! Tell me something else so I forget it!”

“Okay: I think you’re about to run over that guy.”

Namjoon jerks his eyes back to the road and gasps, hitting the brakes so hard Hobi nearly goes flying into the dashboard. He’s moaning, bitching about his seatbelt probably breaking a few ribs, and the tiny man standing in the road in front of you hasn’t budged an inch. Stared death right in the eye and dared it to take him.

“Fucking Jimin,” Namjoon curses. At both your and Hoseok’s blank stares, he clarifies, “My roommate.”

“Is that seriously your roommate?” Hoseok asks, still pressing against his ribs to check for fractures.

Namjoon, huffing and puffing and finally at a complete stop, just nods. “Yeah.”

Hoseok is finally silent. Then, “That tiny, terrifying little man is your roommate and you managed to get knocked out in a bar fight? What, was he busy that night?”

There’s an obvious reply on the tip of Namjoon’s tongue, but before he can spit it out the tiny man is banging his fist against the window. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!” he screams. “Open the door so I can kill you! Did you not see me? I told you I’d be waiting by the mailbox! I even packed all your shit for you and this is how you repay me, by almost hitting me with your stupid truck? You’re fucking cra—wait, who are these people?”

Hoseok, obviously scared shitless, grimaces as he waves hesitantly. “Hi!” you say, though Namjoon’s roommate probably can’t hear you through the thick glass. “I’m the person who broke his nose!”

Then the roommate is smiling. “Oh, that was you? You look different than I remember.”

When you look to Namjoon for answers, you find him slumped against the steering wheel. “Jimin’s a bartender,” is the only explanation you get.

You look out the window again. Small, but no mint-colored hair. “Ah, I had my suspicions about him. …I think.”

Namjoon cranks down the window just enough to tell Jimin he’ll have to hop in the bed with all the luggage, and then the four of you are off again. There’s one more stop, to Jimin’s boyfriend’s place to pick up him and his roommate, and all you can do is hope one of them has a larger vehicle.

Just like before, this drive is suspiciously unremarkable. You’ve long since resigned yourself to believing Namjoon and what little he’d told you, but you can tell Hoseok’s skeptical. Along for the ride, of course, because there’s always the small chance you hadn’t been lying and then he would’ve been knee-deep in shit, but skeptical nonetheless.

“Can I just ask—are you sure about this?” He’s looking out the window. Looking at all the normal cars and houses and businesses. Nothing about the outside world screams looming zombie apocalypse at all. “It seems pretty quiet.”

Namjoon sighs. Grips the steering wheel a little tighter, knuckles flashing white, but he seems okay. Adrenaline, maybe. It’ll hit later. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You saw something?” Hoseok prods.

“I—” He nudges you. “Did you notice how most of the people in the waiting room just seemed to have bad colds? Sneezing, coughing, all that?” You nod. “I didn’t really think anything of it since it’s still flu season, but once I got called back, everything just felt… off.”

He sucks in a breath. Keeps driving. Keeps talking. The nurse who’d taken his vitals seemed exhausted. Cracked some joke about being glad Namjoon was there for a broken nose and not whatever respiratory thing was going around. Told him a doctor would be in shortly to patch him up, and when she left his room she hadn’t shut the door all the way. Left enough of a crack for Namjoon to see what was going on: frazzled nurses and doctors and techs huddled around, panicking. Namjoon thinks someone called for an ambulance.

True to her word, a doctor did come in to pack and splint his nose. Then, in the middle of jotting down the name and phone number of his pharmacy, a scream.

“An old man came in. I saw him when they took me back. He was just sitting on a bed because it was so crowded, wasn’t in a room. I guess at some point he passed out. Didn’t have a pulse. I think he was who they called the ambulance for, but while I was waiting for the doctor I kept hearing this weird moaning.”

Hoseok shudders. “Yeah, I know where this is going.”

“Right. So the doctor comes in, fixes me up, and next thing I know, someone’s screaming. Guess that old dude wasn’t as dead as they thought he was.”

“Could they have been wrong?” you ask tentatively. It’s so quiet outside, maybe everyone had just—

“No,” Namjoon says, and he does it with so much conviction you don’t argue further. Jimin bangs on the back windshield, holding his phone up to it so you can see.

It’s all over Twitter. Not even Facebook, where you’d expect a zombie apocalypse conspiracy to begin. No, there are posts all over Twitter and Instagram and even the local news station’s website. Hoseok looks a little green.

“Okay, so it’s definitely real and this is definitely happening,” you mutter. “Does anyone have a plan?”

There’s no plan.

Not even in a hyperbolic, we say we have no plan, but somehow we’ve conveniently got a small arsenal of weapons, kind of way. There’s simply no plan.

Jimin’s boyfriend is named Taehyung. They have a needlessly tearful reunion, and you wait in Taehyung’s tiny kitchen for twenty minutes while he packs. He’s roommates with the mint-haired bartender that you like. His name is Yoongi. He has all his stuff packed and waiting by the front door, and you like him so much more for it.

“Should I pack condoms?” Taehyung yells from his bedroom.

“Are you fucking ser—” Yoongi starts, then seems to come to a realization. “Yeah. Yes, you absolutely should.”

“‘Kay! Be out in a sec!”

Namjoon appears then, in the midst of shoving his battered phone in his pocket. He looks around the room, taking stock, and his eyebrows knit in confusion. Fuck, he’s so hot and you’re taking the express train to hell for thinking it. “Hey, has anyone seen Jimin?”

Jimin and Taehyung are gone. There are weird noises coming from the direction of Taehyung’s room. Yoongi looks positively haunted. “Sorry!” Jimin calls out. “Be out in a sec!”

“Tae said that exact thing five minutes ago!”

“Are you calling him a liar?” Jimin yells back. Sounds genuinely angry and genuinely prepared to defend Taehyung’s honor. You’ve never met a tinier, scarier person.

“I’m calling you both zombie food!”

Hoseok sidles up next to you. “Is it just me or is that other tiny man really hot?”

“His name’s Yoongi,” you tell him.

Hoseok just sighs, like he’s carrying all of the world’s burdens on his thin shoulders. “I’m learning a lot about myself.”

You watch him mentally tabulate through all the stages of grief while Namjoon and Yoongi think up a plan. Namjoon’s large but clumsy and mostly useless, and Yoongi is small and deadly. You can hold your own, they decide, so Yoongi adopts Hoseok and Namjoon becomes your problem.

“Wait a second,” Hoseok almost wails. “Why can’t I stay with her? She’s my roommate!”

Yoongi looks offended. Probably is. “You don’t think I can defend you?”

Hoseok flushes crimson. “I-I didn’t say that…”

He’s halfway through a stuttered, awkward apology when Jimin and Taehyung appear, not at all looking like they’d just been getting off together. Sure, Jimin’s hair is a little mussed, but Taehyung—

Taehyung is only holding a box.

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. “Taehyung.”

“Please don’t use that tone of voice with me,” Taehyung whines. “You know this is my emotional support jigsaw puzzle.”

“All you’re bringing is a jigsaw puzzle?”

“And condoms!”

“You’re not bringing any clothes? Medicine? Food?” Namjoon asks, because he might not be the oldest but he has the most overworked single mother energy out of all of you. “Jimin, go help him pack a bag of clothes, at least. Yoongi, can you grab any extra house stuff and toiletries you have laying around? Laundry detergent, soap, shampoo.”

Taehyung scoffs, sound dissipating as he disappears back down the hallway. “We can just steal that stuff.”

Hoseok looks like he’s about to pass out. “I am not turning into a criminal!”

He does.

You all do.

The six of you pile into two separate vehicles—you and Hoseok with Namjoon again in his truck, and Jimin and Taehyung behind you in Yoongi’s beater car. The plan is to drive to Namjoon’s cousin’s house in the middle of nowhere and bunker down there for a while. It’s plenty big—“His parents are politicians, so he’s got money,” was Namjoon’s explanation—and far enough outside of the city that it should buy you enough time to come up with something better.

Step one, though: Wal-Mart.

“Don’t worry, I steal from here all the time,” Taehyung says, breezing to the front of the pack like he’s leading the rest of you into war. Yoongi throws his hands up. Jimin looks lovestruck.

Hoseok hangs back by the cars, still traumatized from the Squishmallow experience, and you stay with him. You’ve seen Zombieland, and you won’t be able to do much fighting with a broken hand. At best you’d be able to fire a gun or whack someone with a pipe, but you’re not trying to go kamikaze mode on some innocent bastard in a Wal-Mart who’s also just trying to survive.

You’ve known Hoseok for a long time—since your sophomore year of college, when he was failing the stats class you shared and you took pity on him and offered some tutoring—so you’ve seen him in various states of distress. You know all of his tells, and the way he’s gnawing at his cuticles is a glaring one.

“Hobi, hey,” you say, moving to gently pull his hand away from his mouth. “Try to relax, okay? Don’t make yourself bleed.”

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick,” he replies. Anguish is clear on his face. “Everything feels fucking overwhelming and scary.”

“I know. I know it does, but if we’re gonna get through this we’re gonna need you, all right?” He nods but he’s shaking, still looking tormented and green around the edges. You pull him into a hug that has him nearly sagging in defeat.

Slowly, your shoulder grows wet and warm. Hoseok’s crying, body shaking from the weight of all his fear, and all you can do is hold him. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you whisper into his hair. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You feel him nod. Then, in the smallest voice, “Yoongi too?”

Figures. Hoseok’s a horny little demon at the best of times—the thin walls of your apartment can attest to that—so it makes sense that impending doom would exacerbate it. “Sure, Hobi,” you assure him, scratching softly at his scalp.

You get him calmed down. Tucked into the backseat of Yoongi’s car so he can lay down. He’s asleep not long after, fatigue finally catching up, and you just stay. Park your ass at the edge of the seat, leave the door open, waiting. There’s a gentle, warm breeze, and you wish you could bottle it. Wish you could do more in this moment than just experience it, because it’s the last chance you’ll have at something resembling normalcy.

You might never be able to hug Hoseok in a parking lot again.

“We’re back!”

You look up, not at all surprised to see Taehyung skipping towards you, arms full of stolen goods. “I see that. What’d you get?”

“Oh, a lot of stuff,” he answers. Yoongi pops the trunk of his car and they set about shoving it all inside. “It was packed in there! Felt like Black Friday, except everyone was fighting over bread instead of ultra hi-def TVs.”

Wary, you look over your motley crew. “Are you all okay?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi answers, voice gruff. “It was mostly civilized. Don’t think people really realize what’s going on yet. Is Hoseok sleeping?”

You nod. “He, uh—had a moment? He got really upset, so he’s sleeping it off… if that’s okay?”

Yoongi just shrugs. “Yeah, whatever. Who’s riding with me?”

“Me,” Jimin says. “I’m not taking the bitch seat in the truck.” Taehyung immediately pouts, some unspoken bond clearly broken now, and Jimin scoffs. “Don’t pout at me. You know my ass requires a full seat.”

“But—”

Namjoon pointedly slams Yoongi’s trunk closed. Hoseok doesn’t stir an inch. “Jin’s expecting us so we need to get moving. Taehyung, shut up and get in the truck.” Then, to you: “Guess you’re with me again.”

Fine by you, especially since Namjoon ripped the sleeves off his shirt.

Not even Namjoon’s arms can salvage this drive.

Taehyung fiddles with the radio the whole time. Flips between radio stations that are all depressing carbon copies of one another. Complains that Namjoon’s truck is too old to have a CD player and that he doesn’t know how to work cassette tapes. Complains endlessly about Namjoon’s driving, too, although you can’t really blame him for that one.

“Hey,” he eventually says, elbowing you a little too hard in your side. “I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but—”

Namjoon tries to snort and immediately regrets it. “I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but I’m about to say something extremely rude.”

“I was not!” Taehyung defends, but when you quirk an eyebrow at him to continue, he says, “Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for me and Jimin in the unlikely event that the three of us are cornered by a zombie and are facing imminent death and only two will survive? Because I think you should be.”

You blink. “Um.”

“It just makes the most sense logically,” he continues, as if he hadn’t just volunteered you to be a zombie chew toy. “Jimin and I are soulmates. Platonic and romantic. And you’re—” He pauses. “Um. New. And Jimin might not look like it because he’s small, but he’s scrappy and can easily protect me, which means you’re redundant. Not to mention your hand is broken, so.”

You study him. “So, what are you bringing to the table?” you ask. Taehyung looks at you like you’re stupid. “I’m just saying, if Jimin and I can both defend ourselves, why wouldn’t we team up in the name of long-term survival and ditch the weakest link, which would be you?”

Namjoon laughs loudly beside you. His whole body shakes with it, a sound somewhere between a guffaw and a dog panting, and it’s a nice contrast to the death glare Taehyung’s sending you. “Jimin wouldn’t do that to me.”

“People are unpredictable when they’re staring death in the face.”

Taehyung’s silent the rest of the way.

It hurts to admit it, but you’re rethinking your all-politicians-are-evil, eat-the-rich stance, because it starts like—

(Seokjin’s parents’ place is truly in the middle of nowhere and safeguarded to the nth degree, harder to get close to than Area 51. The house itself is deceptively large and modern, clapped in black-stained red cedar. Single-level. Expansive windows you’d thought were an oversight until you got closer and realized they were made of armored glass.

“Shit, is all of this really necessary?” you ask, stepping inside. There’s definitely insider trading going on here. “Are these people on the goddamn Supreme Court?”

“That’s not funny,” Namjoon says.

“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure that”—you point to a nondescript door with an ominous symbol on it—”is some kind of rich people bomb shelter and the only politicians I know that would require this level of security are the I just voted to strip half the country of the ability to make their own reproductive decisions kind.”

Namjoon chokes.

“Gross,” a voice chimes from behind you. “Please don’t debase and sully my parents’ good name by even joking that they’re conservatives.”

Jesus, is everyone in this family stupidly attractive? The man before you is shorter than Namjoon but still tall, legs as long as his shoulders are wide. Hair styled neat but dyed blond. Kind eyes and plush lips, and there’s the Kim family resemblance.

“Hi, I’m Seokjin,” he says, offering you his hand. Definitely raised in a family of politicians. “I hear you’re the one who broke my cousin’s nose.”

“I, uh, might’ve done that, yeah.”

Seokjin smiles. “Cool. Welcome. Please make yourself at home and we’ll chat strategy later.”)

Which becomes—

(Later turns into days.

For the most part, life proceeds normally. Seokjin gets periodic updates from his parents who have left the country entirely—(“Damn, they just left you here?” someone asks, and that’s how you meet Jungkook)—about the government response, or lack thereof, along with whatever useless psychobabble the CDC is sending out. None of it bodes well for the future, so you spend most of your time trying to stay in the present. Right now, you’re okay. Right now, you’re with a group of people hellbent on staying alive. Right now, you have enough food and shelter in a house in the middle of nowhere with armored glass windows and a bomb shelter.

The eight of you eat meals together and play games and talk about your Before lives. You already knew Namjoon worked at a nonprofit and that Jimin and Yoongi owned a bar, but you learn Taehyung was in grad school for art therapy. Hoseok, of course, split his time between the dance studio and the streetwear boutique his sister owned. Seokjin was some bigwig corporate attorney.

Jungkook, of all things, played minor league baseball.

Needless to say there won’t be any scientific breakthroughs from any of you.

“I was supposed to go pro this year,” Jungkook huffs, forcefully grabbing the microphone for the karaoke machine. He’s been singing “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor for four days.

All things considered, you somehow managed to fall into the best possible outcome, even if one of Taehyung or Jimin still tries to convince you to sacrifice yourself at least six times a day.)

Which culminates in the one possible downside—

“Yoongi wants Hoseok to move into my room,” Namjoon says, appearing in the doorway of your (now-solo, apparently) room. He takes up nearly the entire frame. It makes you feel a little lightheaded.

“Oh,” you reply stupidly. “Okay. Are you here for his stuff?”

“No, I’m here to ask if I can move in with you. I’m not really interested in spending the rest of the zombie apocalypse third-wheeling.”

Sarcasm seems like your best defense. “Wow, after all we’ve been through. We’ve got a real enemies to lovers vibe going on. I’m pretty into it.”

Namjoon flushes down to his toes. “Haaa, what? We’re—that’s not—we’re not even lovers yet.”

You give him a second, but he doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said, so you can’t help but smirk, to press on the bruise just to watch him squeal. “Yet?”

Now he turns full-on crimson. “That’s not what I meant.”

Somehow he’s still cute, even with the yellow-green bruising beneath his eyes and his sheepish, hunched posture. Namjoon is the kind of guy that makes you feel bold, makes you want to mess him up, but he’s also the kind of cute that has you relenting, easing off.

“Sure,” you finally say. “You can move your stuff in here.”

He smiles, dimples flashing, and he’s only gone a few minutes so you have no time to catch your breath before he’s back, dumping his clothes on the bed to put them in the dresser. He doesn’t mention sleeping arrangements because there’s no point: all of the bedrooms have single, queen-sized beds. Naturally, you and Hoseok had bunked together with little fuss, having fallen asleep in each other’s beds a million times after years spent living together. You assume it’d been the same for Namjoon and Yoongi and their decades of friendship.

You’d joked about being enemies to lovers; clearly you’d chosen the wrong trope.

“How’s your nose?” you ask, wordlessly moving to help sort and refold the t-shirts as best you can. They smell nice: something soft and clean and inherently Namjoon.

“Still sore,” he answers. Says a small thank you when you push a stack of black tees towards him. “Jungkook’s been helping me with the packing.”

“He’s had a lot of broken noses?”

“He’s had a lot of broken everything.”

It hits you, then, how much of an outsider you are. That the six of them are all connected, have history. And Namjoon must notice, because he grows serious. Gets shy all over again when he says, “Hey, we’re all glad you and Hoseok are here.”

You snort. “Yeah, as a sacrifice.”

Namjoon laughs a little, too. “Taehyung’s only so insistent because he’s useless. He accidentally stepped on a stink bug once and cried. He’s not really built for something like this.”

“Are any of us?”

“You are, I think,” he says immediately, no hesitation. “You’ve been really calm, haven’t panicked at all. It’s helped me a lot—all of us, really.”

Oh, you’re embarrassed. “I have to be, living with someone like Hobi.” Why are you embarrassed? “One time he saw the red light on the coffee machine and slept in my room for a week because he thought there was a demon in our apartment.”

Namjoon can’t help himself. “Was there?”

You sigh, over-dramatic and theatrical. “No, just me.”

He laughs, loud and unashamed, but it sounds a lot more like everything’s going to be fine.

Hoseok had been a cuddler.

You’d always wake up with him wound around you like a snake, limbs akimbo as he snored quietly. But, like all things Hoseok did and does, there was grace in it. He kept a normal body temperature. He didn’t hog too much of the bed or the duvet. He didn’t kick you or elbow you in the side of the head. Aside from the cuddling, which has never really been your thing, Hoseok was a perfect bed-sharing partner.

The same cannot be said for Namjoon.

His broken nose has him snoring at obscene levels. It doesn’t lessen when you shove a pillow over your head, either, which is not the way you fantasized about going lightheaded in bed with him. Not to mention his stupidly large body is stupidly large and requires a lot of space. What had started as a clean split down the middle has you grasping to the edge, trying desperately not to fall off. Every time you try to inch closer to the center, Namjoon unconsciously protests and sends elbows flying, and arms that size can do a lot of damage. He sleeps so hot you always wake up in a thin sheen of sweat just from the proximity.

You’re not sure you sleep at all for the first three days.

And then things start to shift. Like your roommate, Namjoon is a cuddler too, but in vastly different ways. Hoseok’s would be subconscious—he never dared to touch you when he was awake out of respect for boundaries and personal space, but Namjoon doesn’t have those hangups. He climbs into bed one night and immediately fits himself to your back before asking if it’s okay, and yeah, of course it is. You couldn’t have waterboarded Hoseok into touching you purposely the way Namjoon does casually, so unthinking, just does what he wants.

It makes you ache.

So you become sleepless for other, new reasons.

His snoring lessens, gives way to these breathy little sounds that border on soft moans. Still obscene. He stops forcing you to the edge of the mattress and instead presses you into it, the weight of his massive body leaving you with nowhere else to go. Every time he touches you, either knowingly or not, he leaves trails of heat in his wake.

Even in sleep, Namjoon is a tease.

Sometimes his hands will drift—too close, too far, both simultaneously—and you feel your breath hitch, wondering if he’s awake, if he’s doing it on purpose. Sometimes you wake up with him wrapped around you, hard cock pressing into your ass, the small of your back. Sometimes he’ll rut once, twice, and come to and disappear to the opposite side of the bed in shame and embarrassment, leaving you frustrated and pretending to be asleep.

Because you’re not… sure.

You know you’re attracted to Namjoon. You know he’s some degree of attracted to you in return. But the outside world is so volatile, the situation you’re in so unstable, that you’re afraid to push. Afraid the delicate house of cards will come tumbling down, that you two will fuck to get it out of your systems and make things horribly awkward, ruin the good thing you’ve got going.

But you can only take so much, is the thing. There’s a very large man with a very large cock at your back and you’ve had enough of this game.

“Namjoon,” you say, rolling in his arms so you’re face to face. You poke him in the stomach when he doesn’t stir. “Namjoon.”

He jolts awake, hands immediately moving to you—checking that you’re still there, that you’re safe. “Wha’?” he slurs, voice thick with sleep, deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Wha’ happened?”

Now you feel awkward. He’s concerned with your safety in the midst of a fucking apocalypse and you’re just horny. Still, sometimes the only way out is through, so you blurt out, “Do you want to fuck me?”

That grabs his attention. He’s fully awake now, propped up on one elbow, gazing down at you like you’ve completely lost your mind. Fucking stupid but not dumb, like a mantra. “Uh.” He pauses. Swallows. Pushes sweaty hair off his forehead. “Did—did you, uh, get bit? Are you feeling okay?”

You glare, though it’s useless in the dark. “I’m fine. How’s your dick?” You dare a glance downward. Still hard is the answer.

Namjoon embarrasses easily in a way that is both horribly endearing and horribly inconvenient, because instead of feeding you some greasy line like want to find out? he’s reaching down to adjust himself in his sleep shorts, stumbling over apologies as he goes. “Shit, fuck, I’m so sorry, this is so awkward, I’m sorry—”

“Can you answer my question, please?”

Namjoon stills. Puts that giant brain to use. “Um. Which one? You asked me two.”

“Well, I can clearly see that your dick is still very hard, so let’s start with the first one.”

There’s a sound that you think is meant to sound like a laugh. A pained a-haaa that sounds more like Namjoon begging for divine intervention in the form of death. “The, uh, doIwanttofuckyou question?”

“That would be the one, yes.”

“Is… is there a wrong answer?”

“No.”

He nods, tongue darting out to wet his lips. It’s lewd, a cruel and unusual punishment for your fleeting moment of horny delirium. Gets even worse when he tugs the plush bottom one between his teeth, staring at you all the while. Sizing you up, it feels like. Deciding between what he wants to do and what he’s actually going to do.

Just like the last week of your life, everything goes from zero to one hundred in a split-second.

“Do you wanna talk about this first?” he asks. You’re just staring at one another and he already sounds fucked out. Obscene.

“What’s there to talk about?”

He reaches for you. Two fingers beneath your chin and a thumb on the hinge of your jaw to keep you where he wants you. “What you want.” Leans in, his lips so close to your ear. “What you don’t.”

Around you, the world narrows. Nothing exists outside of this bed. Not the weird house in the middle of the woods. Not the apocalypse. Not a goddamn thing except Namjoon and his big hands and the way he’s touching you. “Tell me what you want,” he says, words skimming along the column of your throat, “and I’ll do it.”

You wonder if he’s talking about big-picture shit or just sex. If he’s someone who needs something concrete to hold onto before he fucks or if it even matters anymore. Would he still want to sleep with you if you’d met under different circumstances that night at the bar, or is it just something to pass the time while you wait out the end of the world?

Although, you feel like the world might end if you don’t finally fuck this man, so maybe it doesn’t matter.

“I’m clean and I have an IUD I’ll have to figure out how to remove in three years if I live that long. I’m down for mostly anything as long as you ask first but I draw the line at most bodily fluids. Oh, also—don’t kiss me if your tongue goes anywhere near my ass. I think that’s it, though. What about you?”

Momentarily stunned, Namjoon’s hands stop moving. “I’ve never eaten ass before.”

“Oh. I mean, we totally can if you want to, but—really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because your lips are pornographic,” you admit, completely void of shame. “Like, you have the kind of mouth that looks like it’s done a lot of dirty things.”

Namjoon laughs. “You also said I look like I like getting pushed around.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Do you?”

He’s growing bold. His response is a low chuckle, more vibration than anything, and he reaches for you again. Seems like he can’t keep his hands off of you, needs to be touching you always, even before when it was harmless, and this time he goes for your hips. Fits his large hands to your waist, the tops of your thighs, presses his thumbs into your hip bones. “Most people don’t try.”

“Yeah, that tracks,” you reply dazedly.

His lips move to your neck, trace the neckline of your sleep shirt, dip below to nip at your collarbone. “Where’s your hand, baby?” he speaks into your skin. Finds what he’s looking for and pins your arm above your head, gently like you’ll break. You think you might. “You can push me around when you’re healed. Can I kiss you?”

You must nod, because Namjoon drags his lips from your throat to your jaw to the corner of your mouth, and then he’s pressing them to your own. This is gentle too, Namjoon careful with his own injury, and it’s not lost on you that this is your fault. You’re not going to get the filthy, primal fucking you want because you’d thrown a punch in a bar, but this isn’t a bad consolation prize, you think.

Because Namjoon is good at this. He’s easy to rile up but rock-solid once he pushes past it. And, sure, he kisses you gently, but he means it. Whimpers into your mouth like you’re doing him a favor, and you think you might be able to do this, just this, forever.

Your free hand fists the thin cotton of his shirt as he licks into your mouth. It should be gross, because it’s the middle of the night and you no longer have the luxury of your favorite toothpaste, but you find it hard to care when he drops his weight, that massive body of his pressing into you, against you in all the right ways. This time it’s you who whines, and it’s a small sound but it seems to drive Namjoon a little crazy.

“Wanna hear you,” he says, pulling back, and you’re about to ask him what that means, if he just wants you to start moaning like some bad porn, but then he’s grabbing your leg to wrap it around his waist and pressing his hips to you harder.

“Oh fuck,” you sigh. Even through his sleep shorts you can tell he’s big—big and really fucking hard. Forget a zombie apocalypse, you’re not sure you’ll survive this right here.

What Namjoon wants, Namjoon gets. You’re unabashed as he grinds his cock against your core, careless about your volume. You’ve suffered through almost everyone in this house either fucking or jerking off, and you can take a little ribbing, so you’re going to enjoy this. What’s the point in modesty if you’re all going to die, anyway?

So you just keep babbling, words spilling out of your mouth before you can filter them, writhing and whining all the while. “I know, baby,” Namjoon says, hands all over, mouth not far behind. “Keep going,” he urges, hands to your hips to move you the way he wants.

“Thigh,” you say, barely able to get the word out of your mouth with the way he’s moving against you. “Wan-wanna ride your thigh.”

He keens. “Shit, yeah, okay.”

Namjoon fucks like it’s the end of the world.

You get off on his thigh but he deems it not enough. Strips you bare and situates himself between your legs. Puts that sinful mouth to use and gets you off again. Asks you when the last time you had sex was and laughs at your answer, all condescending heat, and he uses the slick from you and his mouth to stretch you on three of his fingers.

You’re going to ruin this man’s hair once you have two working hands. Maybe just ruin him in general.

The build-up is dizzying. One second he’s slow and sensual, content to take you apart, continuously bring you to the edge just to yank you back—and the next is all feral urgency. He can’t make you come, can’t kick his shorts off, can’t peel his briefs down those thick thighs fast enough.

“Will you ride me?” he asks, so intent on taking your one rule to heart. As long as you ask first. But some things don’t need to be questioned, like when Hobi asks if you want to take an edible and watch the Spice Girls movie and will you sit on Namjoon’s massive dick.

You huff, already halfway in his lap. “Clown question, bro.”

As you sink down onto him, you understand why he’d laughed when you said it’d been awhile, why he got a little cocky. Three fingers hadn’t been anywhere near enough, but the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, is delicious.

“I was go—ah, fuck—gonna suggest you don’t ca-call me bro, but I don’t think I care when you feel this fucking good.”

“Yeah?” you stupidly ask, and you’re usually better at dirty talk, but there’s not much you can do when all of your brainpower is going towards riding the best cock you’ve ever had in your life. “Tell me.”

Namjoon moans, grips your hips to move you again. Back and forth at a steady, torturous pace. “Baby,” he whines. “Feels like one of those wa-water wiggler toys—”

Okay, so clearly neither of you are at your best right now.

And that’s how it goes. You brace yourself on Namjoon’s chest, nails of your good hand digging into his pec, your broken one held in his. Time seems to drag on forever and stop all at once, and you’re oversensitive and admittedly a little in pain and a lot exhausted so you’re probably not going to come again, but you find yourself dangerously close watching Namjoon chase his own orgasm.

Head tilted back, neck on display, mouth dropped open. You want to shove your fingers inside, so you do.

He comes immediately.

Namjoon kisses you as the two of you come down, whispering more praise in between each one. Tells you how good you are, how beautiful, that he’s glad you broke his nose. Then he realizes the dumb thing that has come out of his mouth and pauses, looking confused and delicate. He’s so cute you kiss him first this time.

And then you pull back and realize he’s got blood all over his face, gushing from the nose he’s so glad you broke, and he’s out of the bed and into the bathroom before you can blink.

“You can’t do that, we’re soulmates!”

Jimin scoffs, placing the Robber on Taehyung’s hex tile anyway, ruthless as he watches his boyfriend miserably discard half his hand. “Your fault for building a city there. I’m coming for your ore tile next.”

You roll your lips to keep from laughing. You hadn’t expected the house’s sardonically-named Royal Couple to be on the brink of disaster twenty minutes into a game of Catan, but you’re safe for now in your small part of the world, surrounded by all of these people you’ve come to love, Namjoon especially, so you’ll take all the manufactured, external drama you can get.

“Told you he’d turn on you, Tae,” you chime. He gives you the finger. “You can’t trust Libra men.”

“What about virgins!” Jungkook calls from the kitchen, where Yoongi has convinced him to drink tequila and brandy to see if he can get him to punch Namjoon, too, and Seokjin laughs so hard he looks like he’s about to keel over and die.

Yeah, you think you’re going to be fine.

#bts imagines #bts fic #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon imagine #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bts smut #bts scenarios

[nanowrimo]

Pro Tips from a NaNo Coach: How to Write a Novel in 30 Days

NaNoWriMo can seem like a daunting task sometimes, for NaNo newbies and veterans alike. Fortunately, our NaNo Coaches are here to help guide you through November! Today, author Adiba Jaigirdar is here to share her advice on how to set yourself up for noveling success:

Welcome to the very first week of NaNoWriMo! I’ve done NaNoWriMo for (almost) every year since 2008. I’ve won some, I’ve lost some, but I’ve learned a lot along the way. In fact, I apply a lot of the tactics I learned in NaNoWriMo to all my writing. When I wrote my second book, Hani and Ishu’s Guide to Fake Dating, I ended up with a first draft of 74,000 words written in 30 days. That wasn’t something I would have thought possible in 2008 when I was slogging through my very first 50,000-word novel. That’s why I’m here today to share with you a few tips and tricks I’ve picked up through my writing journey, in the hopes that they serve you and your novel this November: 

1. Accountability 

One of the most difficult parts of writing a novel is that it requires so much self-discipline. It’s not like a job you show up to where your boss is holding you accountable for how many words you’ve written. Only you are ultimately responsible for how much you get done—which is why it’s easy to get demotivated and give up. So, you need to figure out ways in which you can be accountable for your novel this month.

You’ll be glad to hear that you’ve already taken the first step in doing this: you’ve pledged to do NaNoWriMo. You’re here, ready to write. But you can go a step further: ask your friends and family to hold you accountable by checking in on your progress during the month. If you have friends who are doing NaNoWriMo that’s even better; you can hold each other accountable. If you’re on social media, you can share updates every day and be accountable to your followers. There are a lot of ways to do it; so figure out what kind of accountability works best for you! 

2. Planning 

Planning a novel is definitely not for everyone. This is coming from someone who has pantsed many books! Planning can look different for different people. If you are a true-blue plotter, you might have your entire novel planned from beginning to end, with comprehensive chapter outlines. But if you’re not someone who plots out your entire novel before you’ve written a single word, planning is still important.

This planning can look like a rough outline of your book or finishing your writing day and jotting down a few quick ideas of what to write when you come back to writing the next day, or it can be leaving yourself voice memos as ideas spark when you’re nowhere near your novel. Going into every new day of writing without any idea of what the blank page will hold is very, very daunting, which is why planning ahead can be just the motivation that you need to fulfill your word count goal for the day. 

3. Figure out what works for you 

I have published four books so far and I’ve written many more. The process of writing each of these books has been very different. I drafted one in three months, one in 30 days, one was completely plotted with a rigorous outline, while one was plotted with a flexible outline, and two were completely pantsed. What I’ve learned about myself is that to make a book work, sometimes I have to try something different.

The only thing NaNoWriMo requires of you is to write those 50,000 words. How you go about it depends on you. You don’t have to write every single day if that doesn’t work for you. You can write at the same time every day, or a different time every day depending on what sparks your creativity. You don’t have to participate in writing sprints if writing with a countdown doesn’t help you focus. The point is that now’s your time to figure out what works for you and what doesn’t. You might be surprised by what methods you swear will never work for you but ends up helping you over that finish line. 

4. Have fun!

This is easier said than done, but try to enjoy writing your novel. Especially when it feels difficult. When I wrote 74,000 words in 30 days, it felt like a breeze because I was having a lot of fun with my book. Try to remember what makes you excited about your novel and go back to that when it’s tough. If writing is what you love, find the joy of it and nurture it throughout this month. The more you enjoy it, the more likely you are to keep writing.

Adiba Jaigirdar is the award-winning, critically-acclaimed and bestselling author of The Henna Wars, Hani and Ishu’s Guide to Fake Dating, A Million to One, and The Dos and Donuts of Love. A Bangladeshi/Irish writer and former teacher, she has an MA in Postcolonial Studies and a BA in English and History. She is the winner of the YA book prize 2022, the KPMG Children’s Books Ireland Awards 2021, and was a finalist for the 2022 Lambda Literary awards. When not writing, she is probably ranting about the ills of colonialism, playing video games, or expanding her overflowing lipstick collection.

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2023 #writing #writing advice #writing tips #writblr #by nano coach #adiba jaigirdar

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Do you have anything else for your POW AU? I want to know what happens to them. Do they run away with Buck or do they stay with Bucky?

I HAVE SO MUCH!

thank you for asking about it, it’s killing me being preoccupied with it and planning it and yet so little has been published that not as many folks are excited about it so the interaction is meager…I’m not whining, or if I am I’m sorry for doing and will shut my trap. I’m just terribly excited for this one and can’t wait to be at a place where we can all scream about it more freely together.

-Which is up to me to get the content out for it. And hopefully that will be soon. Very soon.

As I see it I have one more establishing part of the fic to write, to get them into the camp, and then from then on it’ll be a prompt based thing, hopefully. Which means, regarding who got away and who didn’t … you can ask for that then. 😈

Aaaand here’s a tiny sliver of the draft from Part 2 of Those Who Can:

“All right,” Ida’s voice carried as well as it ever had, commanding immediate quiet and attention, “those in the 420th, 418th, yeah -on me. Gather ‘round. That’s it, come on. Alright, well, we made it, well done. Truly, well done to all of you. Now I know you well enough to not accuse any of you of being idiots, just because we made it to where we wanted to go doesn’t mean any of what’s ahead is going to be easy. Be wary, don’t let your guard down, you don’t know plenty of these men and they don’t know you, I’m sure there are measures in place for spying already. Be sensible. I am certain we can rely on the kindness of those in the hundredth, but even then keep in mind, if you are cold, they are too, if you're hungry, you best believe they are hungrier, the last thing we need is a crisis of chivalry in here. Rely on them, except their help, but don’t ever take from them. Understood? And one more thing, since the human spirit is irrepressible I feel it’s warranted to make one more housekeeping note. None, and I do mean none, no inner relations at all are allowed. I don’t care how cold you are, how sweet he’s been, or how much you’ve missed him. The Red Cross aren’t sending rubbers. You’re officers, act like it. Do you want a one-way ticket to a death camp or a bullet to the head? Get pregnant. Simple as that. You think the Jerries think poorly of you now for being female? Try being a matron. The point is to blend in as much as possible, keep that in mind. Whatever you do, keep that in mind. Understood?”

#masters of the air #mota fanfic #mota blurbs #archive #mine #Ida Brady #mota oc #mota asks #those who can

[hasaniwalker]

Hundred Acre Kingdom: Prologue Teaser

I started expanding on my Hundred Acre Kingdom story for print now that tigger is in public domain. Kessie and Gopher will be changed, they’re still very much all Disney.

If you didn’t see the original story post years ago, this is the story of Christopher Robin’s daughter and the world she creates after she gets her father’s childhood toys. With a more adventurous imagination, she creates a world of knights, castles and monsters. This isn’t a horror film (though those adaptations get the most attention). Instead, it’s a coming of age story about what we inherit from others and finding our own paths.

I’m planning to self publish this for myself and anyone who cares to read it. It’ll probably be limited once it comes out.

Anyway, here’s a first draft of the new opening prologue for the book.

The Hundred Acre Kingdom

“I knew when I met you an adventure was going to happen.” 

― A.A. Milne

Prologue

The covers were a poor defense. She knew that, but pulled them close all the same. As the thunder rolled closer, it was only a matter of time before it found its way to her home. Destroying the door to and pouring inside. Lightning striking the walls, tearing down all the comforts decorating the hallway. All to make its way to her room and take her away to the darkness outside.  The Noise outside was proof enough of the sky’s intent. Loud, desperate and hateful that it hadn’t found her yet.  Yes, the covers were a very poor defense.

“Tut, tut little one.” Her father told her. “It’ll pass in good time.”

His ignorance of the threat outside was laughable. How could anyone be so calm with the storm so close to finding them? However, his words were a distraction. And a distraction of any kind was welcomed.

“I was just as afraid when I was your age, but you come to enjoys the thunder after a while.”

“I’m not afraid.” She nearly snapped in a whisper. “I’m just, wary.”

Her father smiled. “Well, when I was wary, I had some friends who would help me through it. Would you like to meet them?”

The girl barely paid attention to his words. A flicker of light lit up the room for a second. The threat was closer. Checking windows. Trying to find any trace of her. Time was running out.

“This one, he was always so afraid.” The man continued. “But his friend was always by his side to help keep him calm.”

The thunder had lost its way. Confused. They were safe for a little while. The girl looked to her father to see him holding a stuffed pig and bear. Old and ragged. They looked up at her with curious eyes. He placed them on the bed with her.

“These are your friends?”

“They were, a long time ago.”

She lifted up the pig. He was a small creature, but not without charm.

“Piglet.” Her father said. “On account of his size.” The girl smiled at this as her father stood up from the bed. “They’ll keep you safe through the night, and you can do the same for them I’m sure.” He looked at her, waiting for an answer to a question he didn’t ask.

The girl looked at the bear and the pig. The covers wouldn’t help, but reinforcements would.

“Yes.” She responded. “I’m sure I can.”

With that, her father left the room, closing their door behind him.  The rain still poured outside. Gently hitting the window and roof. For a moment, it was peaceful. Until a shattering boom was heard. The girl pulled the covers closer and looked to the window. Everything went silent again, except for a low whimper from the side of her bed.  She looked over to find the bear. Quivering, paws over its head and eyes tightly closed.

“I don’t think it’s found us yet.” She reassured him to no effect.

“He’ll be like that for a while mum.” The pig, Piglet had moved to the window. Peaking outside. “Looks like pure fury, but he’s nothing but fluff.”

“Don’t look out the window, it’ll see you.” The girl warned the pig.

“Looks to have lost our scent.” He leaped from the window and walked to the bear. “But if it comes back, I’ll be ready.” Piglet scratched the bear’s head. “And you’ll find bravery then, won’t you cub?”

The bear raised his head and nuzzled Piglet. He was large, but gentle with the small swine. Another flicker of light outside sent the bear into trembles. He looked to the girl. Eyes pleading for her to do anything to help. All she could offer, was a hand, to which the bear licked affectionately.

“We should pass the time then.” Piglet suggested.

“With what?”

Piglet leaned against the bear as if relaxing in the grass. He placed his hands on his stomach and thought.

“A story would be nice.” He offered.

“Something adventurous?” 

“That would be preferred if you’re able Miss…What should I call you?”

The girl thought this over. Not a strange question, but to be asked by a pig seemed like a unique situation.

“Clover, you can call me clover.”

Piglet nodded. “We’ll, Miss Clover. Tell us a story of adventure and courage and when the rolling thunder is done searching, I’ll take you beyond this fortress to real adventures waiting outside.”

“Along with the bear?” Clover found herself growing excited.

“Of course, can’t leave our steed.”

As Piglet rested and the rain passed, Clover spun a story of perilous events and wondrous places. It was the first of many that she would share with her new friends. Eventually, light shone through the dark clouds, and the rolling terror was long forgotten. Now it was time to go outside with the bear and Piglet, and ride off into the vast woods. Making discoveries and creating their own stories. Of which, there would be many.

#hasani #art #hasani walker #winnie the pooh #hundred acre kingdom #hundred acre woods #christopher robin #writing #book #novel #Story #piglet #tigger #eeyore #pooh bear #fiction #public domain

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Phullo there, I’d like to ask you a question! I hope I won’t be such a bothersome.

So, I’m planning to write a story about Laughingstock and since I find your storytelling very pleasing I figured it’d be a great idea to ask for your advice about the writing!

My Idea in general for this story is just Howdy taking a day off from working in his bodega. And basically, he’ll be just wearing normal clothes.. shocking truly.

And thennn, Barnaby and Howdy accidentally stumbled into each other’s path. They later then of course had a very long conversation that lasted until evening maybe.

Of course there’ll be some fishy moments like them looking at each other with goggly eyes and other cheesy romantic nonsense- but it’s just mainly them having their usual conversation with a ‘couple’ of jokes here and there. It’s supposed to be a sweet memory for them to remember basically.

So, what I’m really trying to ask you for is- how the heck do you start a story exactly and not make it into just the dialogues? Like, I want my story to be kind of long but I’m afraid it’ll be just them, y’know, talking and I really don’t want it to be boring.. therefore, I really need your help.

I am so sorry if it’s such a bad timing considering the fact that you just had an interview which I am very proud for you for that! Even if it didn’t go as expected at least you did good half of it.

Soo, yeah! I’d very much appreciate your advice and I am sooo sorry that this was soo long!!! And again, a bad timing too.. but hey if you got any time, please consider answering. Thank you..

Also any response yet? On the interview of course.

hmmm... in my experience and Knowledge Accumulated Over The Years via reading And writing... the best place to start is to just drop in. no story introduction, no "it was a dark and stormy night", just Start. it sounds like your story begins with Howdy taking the day off, so maybe kick off with him getting ready / choosing an outfit, or w/ him reflexively almost opening the store before he stops and chides himself for almost forgetting that he's taking the day off

to combat the dialogue, maybe detail him leaving the bodega to go into the neighborhood. what does he see? hear? feel both physically and mentally? is there anyone else out and about? set the scene! ive been struggling with this too lately since i haven't seriously written in a while and i haven't been reading actual books

WHICH! IMPORTANT TANGENTS!! read well-written books, Not fanfic! im not saying dont read fanfic ever or i'd be the world's biggest hypocrite, but also read actual books. it's important to study how published authors write, how stories are structured, dialogue and action. because these books have more often then not gone through a Rigorous screening process. multiple drafts, beta readers, publishers reading it with great scrutiny before agreeing to publish - of course there are exceptions, but a lot of books are the highest quality they can be, and will outshine most fics. because, and i say all of this as good things, fics are unregulated. most dont have beta readers. a lot are from amateur authors new to the scene. there will be spelling mistakes, weird grammar & sentence structure, etc - most fics have Entirely different writing styles from each other. so if you only read fanfic, That is what your brain will learn, and it's gonna be harder for you to write. published books have less variation in styles, and the styles are subtler. there's less spelling mistakes if any, so your spelling will improve. your internal vocabulary will expand. even if you don't consciously study what you read, your brain will pick up on & internalize patterns, how action works, how dialogue works, how to structure a story, all that good stuff. if you want, i can recommend well-written books! i've been an avid reader since... like, ever. i've got recs galore! you can tell me your preferred genre & literary interest and i'll probably have something for you! and if you're not big on books, well... get out of your comfort zone lmao, books are fucking awesome and i guarantee there are plenty out there that you would love.

and when you're writing dialogue, intersperse it with little actions or the main povs' internal dialogue. if there's a natural lull in the conversation, explore that lull! what do the characters do in this moment? what's going on around them? sprinkle bits of setting in so that your reader knows where they are and what's going on.

plus, exploring the non-dialogue sections of your story can, and often will, spark inspiration in your brain for scenes and actions to fill out the story if you want it to be long (but also! if you just want to write the scene of their conversation, that's the beauty of fanfic - there's no requirements. do whatever you want lmao). when Howdy is going into town, maybe Wally calls him over for a quick pose - does Howdy say yes or no, and how does that decision change the story? maybe Julie invites him to join her in a game, or Eddie stops to talk to Howdy about him being out and about. maybe there are some complaints over the bodega not being open. what's the lead-up to Howdy and Barnaby running into each other? do they literally run into each other? what happens when they do? those are just a few possibilities of many!

remember, when you're writing, you're that story's god. you can do literally fucking anything. you decide what the characters do, where they go, what happens in their world. that mindset should help you bolster the plot instead of just "these two characters have a conversation", yk?

i hope this helps!

#im so serious i am talking from personal experience #the quality of my writing improves after reading an actual book / when im reading one alongside writing #which is why im getting myself back into it #i spent a while not reading books and boyyyyy howdy have i suffered for it! #i miss when i was in elementary school reading at least one full length book a week... #BUT BOOKS HELP. GOOD BOOKS #not the fuckin cookie cutter booktok recs that're just a bunch of tropes slapped together #im talkin about the quality stuff. #im talkin about authors who really see the art in writing & storytelling #rambles from the bog #but also do take everything i say with a grain of salt #i have a lot of room for improvement myself & as with my art im an Entirely Self Taught Writer #so im by no means an expert on the subject! im a medium level writer at best <3 #and im not saying that in a derogatory way! it just means i have a ways to go in becoming a legitimately good writer #& reaching the level that i want. its something to strive for! #also thank you! ive never done an interview before so i really have nothing to compare it to!