tatielly

|| sometimes i write, sometimes i reblog tips, sometimes i reblog fics i like || main: @queen-baelin ||

[write-crawler]

eu devo ser uma fodida chata irritante msm vei

eu nunca quero mto em lugar nenhum mas nas poucas vezes q eu quero eu não acho 1 filho da puta pra ir junto cmg

[ironicarmy-deactivated20210817]

just like a dream III | myg

↣ pairing: yoongi x reader

↣ genre: drama, LOTS OF ANGST IN THIS ONE, fluff, rapper!yg, popstar!reader, hollywood!au, future smut, slow burn

↣ rating: +18

↣ word count: 7.4k

↣ warnings: cursing, drinking, a heavy makeout, mentions of drugs, vomit?? but not too graphic

↣ chapter soundtrack: can't take my eyes off of you - frankie valli // signos - soda stereo // making love out of nothing at all - air supply // lovedrunk - epik high, crush // angels like you - miley cyrus // tiny dancer - elton john // glitter - tyler, the creator

↣ summary: A cookie-cutter pop star looking for a change of pace finds herself in the underground LA scene, catching the attention from none other than the undisputed king, Agust D. Wanting to shed her innocent image, she shockingly enlists him to produce her following album, but they both end up with more than they bargained for…

↣ notes: beta read by @dee-ehn

previous | masterlist | next

ACT III: Chicken soup

“So, one more, huh?”

Yoongi leaned back in his precious ergonomic chair he’d pestered you to buy and took a deep breath. Initially, you didn’t see the need to do so, but after much nagging, you eventually caved in, and oh, what an investment it was. Better than any couch you’ve ever had. You could probably fall asleep on it, which was the last thing you’d expect to say about an office chair, but here you are.

“Just one more,” Yoongi smiled, eyes closed. “One more and we can get to mixing.”

It had been five long months since you’d started recording. The process has been exhausting, given that you had to rewrite sections, even whole songs, to better fit your vision of the album. Yoongi was very happy to help, and even Namjoon, your session guitarist, had pitched in a wild solo for one of your songs. You happily gave him a very deserved writing credit for that one.

Hoseok, though caught up with his job in LA, made sure to drop by to record his verse, and that day the three of you went on a bender in your apartment, binge-watching Marvel movies and inhaling vodka and Doritos like it was oxygen.

In the end, you managed to record about fifteen songs, sixteen if you counted the one that was missing, and you had to narrow it down to twelve. The task was going to be very hard, but Yoongi convinced you to use them for a future album or even an EP if you wanted, so you didn’t feel as bad for not using them.

“By the way,” Yoongi said, turning to your exhausted figure lying on the small couch of your studio. It was late in the night and you wanted to go to sleep. “Do you mind if I play the piano tomorrow?”

You scrunched your face. “Why are you asking me that?”

Yoongi scoffed as if it was obvious. “Because it’s your song, princess.”

“No, like, why are you asking me when you know I’ll let you anyway?”

He smiled. “I like to have permission. Consent is sexy, you know?”

You snorted. “Yeah, very sexy, piano boy.”

“Piano boy?” He gave you a hearty laugh. “That’s a new one.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not very good at nicknames like you,” you said, standing up from the couch and stretching until your spine cracked. “Anyway, have you had any progress with your writing?”

Yoongi shrugged and moved to shut off the monitor. He was tired too, you could see it in the way he didn’t bother focusing on your question. “I think I shut myself completely after falling asleep with the pen in my hand.”

“That was last week,” you pointed out.

“Then I haven’t made any progress since then,” Yoongi concluded. “It’s not my top priority either way. Don’t take it seriously. I’m just writing as inspiration hits me.”

Just a month into your recording sessions, Yoongi began getting bits of “clarity”. It started with a weird dream he had, and as he was telling you about it during breakfast, he got inspired, so he began writing it all down. So far, in between your sessions, he’s written at least thirty different songs. You were astounded.

“It’s not a problem to me,” he told you one day after rehearsal with the band. “Back in Korea, when I used to work in a record shop, I made a habit of writing a song per day. I still have a shit ton of lyrics in my old journals. I kinda use them sometimes. It’s like a word bank. Comes in handy when you need it.”

He was a song machine.

“If you ever need a female voice, I’m here if you need it,” you offered.

He smiled brightly at you. “I already thought about it. In fact, I have like two songs which you can feature in. But that’s a problem for future us. Let’s just focus on getting your album done, so I can get on with making mine.”

“Oh, so not a mixtape?”

Yoongi shook his head. “I think it’s time I make a proper album. What do you say?”

“I like the idea. You’ve released two mixtapes already-”

“And a shit ton of singles.”

“And a shit ton of singles, yeah,” you finished. “You’re gonna be one of the big ones, Yoon. Legendary. I know it.”

“You aim too high, princess,” Yoongi said, looking down with embarrassment and blushy cheeks. “You have too much faith in me.”

“With good reason,” you replied. “It’s time the world really knows your name.”

Yoongi was a coward.

The band was in your living room waiting for him to come out of his room, and he was standing in front of his bed with his notebook wide open, and he was a fucking chicken.

When you asked him months ago to feature in your song, he got excited. Far too excited. He wrote his verse in under ten minutes and let it sit in his notebook until you asked how he was doing with it, and then he chickened out and wrote an entirely different verse in five minutes. He showed you that last verse he wrote, and obviously, you loved it, but it wasn’t as good as Yoongi thought.

The problem?

He practically confessed his feelings for you in that verse.

Fat chance you were ever going to see that. Fat fucking chance.

He was a coward for not coming forward with his feelings, but in the end, it was for the better. He had no idea what your feelings were towards him, no matter how flirty and sweet you might’ve been these past months. That wasn’t an indicator. You were just being nice.

So what did he end up doing? Ripping the original verse off his notebook and shoving it in his boxer drawer, because you’d never actually dare look for something you didn’t know existed, and the chances of you rummaging through his closet were close to none.

With a weary sigh, he grabbed his notebook and dashed towards the living room.

“What took you so long?” Namjoon asked from the couch as he tuned his guitar.

Yoongi shrugged. “Couldn’t find the notebook, but here it is,” he said, walking towards the grand piano placed in the center. “I trust you guys went over the arrangements I sent you?”

They nodded, and Yoongi briefly looked at you and smiled. “Good, then let’s see how this goes.”

“If you guys are feeling confident, I think we can record this today. What do you think, Yoon?”

He nodded, palms a bit sweaty. “You heard the boss.”

“Stop calling me boss, I’m not your boss!” You protested, eliciting chuckles from the band.

“Sure, princess, whatever you say,” he laughed. “Now, show me what you got, guys!”

You finished recording later that evening. You didn’t know how you even managed to do such a thing. Usually, recording took up days. Sometimes you spent an entire day focusing on one small part of the song to make sure you got everything right. An entire weekend was dedicated to layering the vocals for one of the bridges until it was near perfect.

“Holy fuck, I think we’re done,” you gasped. No one moved from their spots.

“We’re done?” Namjoon asked.

Yoongi breathed heavily. The song pretty much sucked the soul out of everyone after playing it on a constant loop the entire day. Yoongi felt like he just ran a marathon, with his heart pounding so hard he could feel the blood pumping through his veins. “We’re done,” Yoongi confirmed, still not quite believing it. “We…” he chuckled. “We just finished recording the entire album.”

“Fuck,” you panted, then took off your headphones and walked over to the couch, promptly plopping down into it. “Oh my god. I can’t believe it.”

“We’re still not over, princess, we have to-”

“Shut up, I wanna ride this wave.” You held up a hand to prevent him from speaking, then leaned back and rested your head as you let out a satisfied grunt. “It’s been five months since we started recording and now I finally know peace. I genuinely thought this would never end, my throat is sore, my legs are tired and I’m in need of some alcohol.”

“Oooh, alcohol, you say?” Ginny, your session drummer, a blonde with big green eyes, twirled her drumsticks as she sat down next to you. “When and where?”

“I’m in,” Namjoon quipped as he unplugged his guitar from the amp. “I don’t know where the party is, but I’m in.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Commented Josh, the bassist, from his spot near the window. “You’re always looking for opportunities to get trashed.”

“Trashed?” Namjoon scoffed. “I see it as life experience. Getting wasted is an art form, dude.”

“It’s a life experience, alright,” Yoongi said, stretching his arms until his bones cracked. “Life experience is getting the cops called on you when you’re at a rave.”

“Min Yoongi, at a rave? I thought you didn’t, like, go out at all,” Ginny said.

Yoongi frowned. “What kind of crazy-ass rumors have these guys been feeding you? I might be introverted but I do enjoy going out,” he scoffed, slightly offended. “Just not with lots of people,” he added with a smaller voice. “But yeah, I went to my first rave in LA back in 2016 and the cops pulled over because someone snitched a dude was selling drugs. Which is, you know, pretty typical for those types of things, but I digress.”

“Wow,” Josh commented, then pointed at him. “He’s got life experience.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi groaned.

“Anyway, what does our Disney princess say?” Namjoon said, completely ignoring how Yoongi sent him a subtle but deadly look for daring to use his nickname for you. “Wanna cele- you know how film casts do a wrap party after they finish filming? Let’s have an album wrap party!”

“Hold your horses, dude, I’m not into partying right now. I think we should have a nice big party for the album launch instead,” you said. “But, I still want to celebrate this. Are you guys hungry?” They nodded. “Fine, let’s go. I know a good place we can go to. My treat!”

The five of you piled into your car and you drove them to a random street in Hell’s Kitchen, and quickly found an empty spot for parking, which in New York was pretty rare. The band exited rather quickly, with confusion etched across their faces, but Yoongi remained in the car to catch a word with you.

“Hey, um, I didn’t tell you this before and I realized just now how stupid I was, but thank you for bringing me into this. Really,” he said as you turned off the car, your keys jingling as you stuffed them into your purse. You looked at him and noticed how sincere his eyes looked under the yellow street lamp. “I’ve never felt this level of excitement before.”

His tender smile was really pretty. “When you said yes I felt like a weight had been taken off my chest,” you explained. “I was so scared I was going to fail, but you made me have a little more confidence in myself.”

“Really? You seemed pretty confident to me,” he laughed softly.

“You never really know what someone’s got inside their head, Yoon,” you turned to him, wrapping a hand around the emergency brake. “I know it sounds really ominous but that’s how it is. I might appear super confident, but the truth is I have my doubts just like everyone else.”

“I get that,” he said, nodding. Without thinking, he placed his hand atop yours, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter wildly. “But I wanted to properly thank you because I realized I hadn’t done it. So… yeah, thank you, princess.”

You smiled. “You’re so sweet, you don’t have to thank me. This project is as much yours as it is mine.”

“But I do want to thank you. I’ve always wanted to be a producer and the fact that you gave me a chance to produce your whole album… fuck, I can’t ever repay you.”

“Fine, you can thank me when we get a Grammy.” You laughed.

“That’s mean. You know the academy is rigged.”

“Oh, so you think we can’t win a Grammy?”

“I never said that,” Yoongi backtracked. “Can you imagine that, though?”

“It’s good to dream,” you said, but then were cut short by Josh knocking on Yoongi’s window.

“Come on, guys! We’ve been standing here for five minutes!” Came Namjoon’s muffled voice from outside. Yoongi sighed and motioned for them to wait a little longer.

“Let’s go.” Yoongi was about to open the door before you stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Wait.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Your heart pounded heavily inside your chest as you leaned into him and quickly placed a short, but sweet kiss on his soft, pillowy cheek. “Thank you, Yoongi.”

He stammered, trying to find the words to properly answer, cheeks going scandalously red. “T-Thank you?”

With your mind all over the place, you quickly tried to calm your wild nerves before opening your door, wondering what the hell had you just done. He wasn’t going to look at you the same way now, was he? Shit. You were going to fuck this up hard. For sure he was going to think you crossed some professional boundary and now he was about to be extra rigid with you. Fuck your feelings apparently. “Come on, they’re waiting for us,” you said, then exited the car.

Turns out you’d taken them to a little underground speakeasy which served the best New York steak Yoongi had ever tried in his life. It was a secluded place full of actors, artists, and other famous people who wanted some privacy when going out. When asked how did you find this place you remained silent, and said that you couldn’t reveal such a guarded secret, but that they knew of this place now and it was all that mattered.

He took a peek at the menu and nearly choked at how expensive the place was, but you reassured him he didn’t need to take a look at the prices, to just have fun and order whatever he wanted. This was the first time you’d gone to a fancy restaurant since that lunch you shared in Beverly Hills, mostly because you spent your nights either cooking together or ordering takeout. The change of pace (and place), brought him some comfort.

So you ordered your food and a round of drinks for everyone, mostly whiskey, except Ginny and Josh, who wanted to get smashed on tequila. Time ticked by really fast as you talked and had drink after drink. By the fifth round, Yoongi’s legs had turned into jelly.

At around two in the morning you decided to leave. Your head was spinning wildly but you were sound enough to not drive and call an Uber instead. Namjoon, Ginny and Josh piled into a taxi and left, while the two of you climbed into your Uber and started the trek home. Yoongi had that unmistakable red flush from whenever he drank, and was giggling uncontrollably, so much that the driver kept laughing at the two of you and even told you that your boyfriend was really gone.

The fact that you didn’t even bother to correct him made butterflies flutter in his stomach.

He had spent the entire night thinking about that little kiss you gave him and what it meant, but now, as fucked up as he was, all traces of complex thought had left his mind, and now all that passed through his mind was kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss-

“We’re here!” You screamed, prompting the driver to cackle as the two of you hilariously fell into the sidewalk while trying to get out of the car. Then, you handed the driver a fifty dollar bill and told him to keep the change, at which he muttered something akin to “good night and be safe!” and left.

You held onto each other as you entered the lobby and walked past the very concerned night-shift receptionist, straight into the elevator, trying to muffle your laughter. Once you got to the floor you fumbled with the keys and messed up a few times as Yoongi, with no indoor voice whatsoever, yelled at you to get a keypad instead of regular-ass keys, until he grew tired and snatched them away from you and opened the door, but not without failing at least twice.

“Agh, we’re home, finally!” Yoongi groaned, kicking off his shoes and leaving them scattered on the living room floor, almost tripping over a set of wires and cables hooked to the various amps.

“‘m hungwyy,” you whined, treading to the kitchen and hastily opening the fridge until your vision zeroed-in on what you were looking for: Yoongi’s most recent batch of cupcakes.

“Did you just say hungwy?” Yoongi said as he entered the kitchen, eyes widening once he saw you grab one of his cupcakes. “Isn’t it too late to be eating cupcakes?”

You shrugged. “Not my fault you’re a fantastic chef.”

“It’s not my fault baking helps me relax,” he shot back, nonchalantly picking another cupcake from the fridge and joining you as you leaned against the counter and dug in. He watched fondly as you moaned with pure bliss, munching on the baked good.

“It tastes better coming from the fridge, I don’t know why,” you said, mouth full.

Yoongi couldn’t wipe that stupid smile off his face. “You’re cute.”

You beamed. “You’re cuter!”

He took a bite off his cupcake to hide the stain in his cheeks. God, you always managed to turn him into a shy, blushy mess. “Stoooop,” he whined, cheeks full and pink, “I’m shy.”

“A shy, pretty, cute boy,” you giggled after swallowing. Clearly the alcohol had gotten into you, but of course, after five glasses of scotch and obscene amounts of beer…

“How come you make better food than I do?” You wondered aloud.

“That’s not true!”

You scoffed. “Yes it is! You’re better at cooking than I am.”

“But I can’t make a nice breakfast like you do,” he pointed out, head still spinning, but somehow you were tethering him into this world. If he stopped seeing you, he might as well pass out. Yoongi was sure he was still awake just because you were awake as well. “Can you please make breakfast for me forever?”

You leaned closer to him, nearly stumbling but somehow managing to keep yourself upright. “Only if you promise to keep making cupcakes for me on demand.”

“Deal,” he laughed, but was cut short once you dug your finger into the frosting and promptly smeared it on his nose. He frowned. “That’s not funny.”

You cackled, placing your half-eaten cupcake on the counter. “It’s very funny! It’s peak comedy, it’s-- HEY,” you yelled as Yoongi smeared all of the frosting in your cheeks and your mouth. “You think you’re slick, don’t you?!” You giggled in unison.

The laughter died down soon enough, and then you briefly stared at each other, eyeing the frosting covering both of your faces. “W-We gotta clean that up,” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Silence.

And just like that, your lips crashed, hungrily.

He caged your body to the counter as he cupped your face and kissed the sweet frosting off of your lips, also accidentally smearing some on your nose, but you didn’t care. You tasted sweet, addicting, so pliant for him, so willing. You opened your mouth to allow his tongue in almost immediately, and he felt like he belonged there, like your lips were his natural habitat. He cupped your face and squished your cheeks like he’d always wanted to do -- you were holding onto his shoulders for dear life, only pulling him closer and closer until you weren’t able to breathe and then some more. You wanted him like he was the air you breathed.

Then you found yourself getting hoisted into the counter, spreading your legs a little bit wider to give him more space. He attacked your cheeks and licked the frosting off of them, and you did the same to him, then he went for your neck and nibbled and sucked to his heart’s desire as you tightened your grip on his shirt.

“Off,” you mumbled, still reeling from the attention he gave you. “Shirt off.”

“Shirt off,” he echoed, reluctantly separating from you to take off his precious white FG shirt you’d seen him wear like a thousand times. Only the light from your living room illuminated the kitchen as you hadn’t even bothered to turn the lights on when you came in.

“Can’t see you,” you complained, hands roaming the expanse of his chest. He returned to kiss your mouth like a man starved.

“Couch?” He muttered in-between kisses.

You hummed ‘yes’, and with his help, got off the counter, and hurriedly pulled him towards your living room.

A sharp sound woke you up. You didn’t know where it came from, only that you were far too tired and comfortable to bother waking up. Groaning, you stirred and buried your face on the warm body beneath you. Strong hands pulled you closer, and a low rumble reverberated across your chest. The sound stopped.

And then it started again. After whining and screwing your eyes shut, you realized it was Yoongi’s phone chiming.

“Who fuckin’ calls at this hour?” Said man groaned under you, and you froze.

What the fuck did you do last night?

Slowly unsticking your eyes open, you saw the morning light coming into your living room, and your bodies lying on the couch. Yoongi was shirtless. Fortunately, you still had your clothes on, and a pounding headache to boot.

“I dunno,” you answered, still making no move to get up.

“Where did I leave my phone?”

“Kitchen?” You suggested, but then it stopped chiming. Suddenly, your phone was chiming, this time on the coffee table in front of you. Yawning, you sat up with haste, trying your damnedest not to gawk at Yoongi’s toned torso. You were sure he could see the pink stain in your cheeks, but at least he couldn’t tell how fast your heart was beating.

You grabbed your phone. Namjoon was calling you. “What’s up?” You croaked.

“You sound awful,” he commented.

“I feel awful,” you corrected. “Like someone banged my head against a brick wall.”

“Bit of a hangover, huh?”

“Just a normal amount,” you joked.

Namjoon laughed. “Neat. Uhh, listen, me and the guys are coming to get our equipment. We left it at your place last night. We’ll be there in, like, twenty. Is that alright?”

You nodded absentmindedly and hummed in agreement, fighting back another yawn. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Cool, see you then.”

You hung up and turned to find Yoongi gone. He emerged from the kitchen, his bare feet dragging across the marble floor as he checked his phone. There was a bit of tension in the air as he refused to look at you directly, and you wondered if you did something wrong.

He sat down next to you and let out a deep breath. You tried to retrace your steps from last night, as you could still remember some of the events. You got drunk as fuck with your bandmates, piled into an Uber with an equally wasted Yoongi, stumbled back home and into the kitchen for a late night snack, and kissed Yoongi.

You kissed Yoongi and cuddled with him on the couch.

While your eyes widened in horror at what you’d done, Yoongi could only stare at the ceiling and reflect on what the fuck happened the previous night. He’d tasted the sweetness of your tongue, kissed the lips he’d been wanting to kiss for the past few months, made out with you on the couch until the two of you passed out from exhaustion. He never thought he’d do it, but he did.

But did you want to?

“Uhh, Namjoon and the rest are coming to pick up their stuff,” you said, looking straight ahead at the wall-mounted TV. “They’ll be here in twenty.”

“Cool,” Yoongi replied bluntly. He didn’t know why his stomach tightened all of a sudden. You were as still as a rock, as if one movement could trigger an avalanche of questions you didn’t want to answer at the moment, and that made him uneasy. Did you remember what happened last night? Were you disgusted? Was that it?

Suddenly you stood up, sighing and stretching, then rolling your neck until you heard a faint crack. “Do you have any hangover cure?”

“A tylenol and chamomile tea…?” He offered, all too aware of your shameful gaze lingering on the floor and not on him. Were you going to talk about what happened?

You nodded. “There’s tylenol in the medicine cabinet. I can make the tea, if you want.” Finally, your gaze landed on him, warm and inviting. Perhaps not all was lost and you were just confused. “I can also make pancakes.”

Yoongi smiled. “You don’t have to go through all that. You’re tired.”

“Yeah, but so are you.”

“Tell you what. I’ll make the tea and help you out with breakfast. How does that sound, princess?”

He was back to his flirty self again. It pained you that maybe he didn’t even remember what happened the previous night. If he did, he made no move to try and begin a conversation, so if he wasn’t ready to do so, neither were you. You hated confrontation, and there was no use trying to force something that he probably didn’t feel. He was just nice to you. Far too nice. But he never made a move on you.

Blame it on the alcohol. Yeah, that was easier.

Right?

A couple of weeks passed as you worked together on the mixing. Everything was fine. You still worked together wonderfully, and Yoongi taught you many things about music production, so much you were now sure you could produce an entire album on your own, although, of course, practice made perfect, and Yoongi had already mastered the techniques.

Neither of you dared to speak up on what happened that night. You were convinced he probably just didn’t remember, so you tried not to say anything out of fear that your working relationship would crumble due to your unrequited feelings. You couldn’t risk him leaving you now that the album was so close to completion, and trying to bring a relationship into the mix just wasn’t good for either of you, no matter how much your heart ached for him.

On the other hand, Yoongi suspected you wanted nothing to do with him romantically. Ever since he saw that look of regret on your face he realized you were probably going to avoid him, but you shoved down that sentiment and continued on like nothing happened, and Yoongi didn’t know if he just imagined it, or you were the biggest hypocrite he’d ever seen.

He didn’t know what to believe anymore. To think that you opened up your heart, your home, to him. A stranger, of all people. He was still struggling with coming to terms with his deep feelings for you, but now he didn’t know if he just admired you because you’d done so much for him, or if he was still hung up from that kiss. Either way, he wasn’t about to throw it all away because of some drunken kiss, as much as it hurt him. You tasked him with producing your album, and that’s what he was going to do, no matter what.

Manuel called you about three weeks later to suggest you shoot the music video for your single soon, given Yoongi was already done with mixing. His suggestion threw a hurdle in Yoongi’s plans, as he originally thought you’d finish the album first before you began promoting, but you argued that if you wanted to properly create enough hype, a pre-release single was the way to go, with the promise of a brand-new album looming on the horizon.

So while Yoongi halted the mixing process for the rest of the album to focus solely on mastering Signals, you brainstormed the music video with Manuel and tried to set up a crew for the shooting. All in all, the process took up about a week, and you already had everything set to begin filming in the streets of Manhattan. It was supposed to be low-budget and homey-looking to give more emphasis to the song itself, so when you pitched the idea to Yoongi, he agreed enthusiastically.

After harassing him for an entire day, you managed to convince him to head to Brooklyn Bridge with you to film some scenes, and to distract himself from work, as he’d been cooped up in your studio focused on mastering the song and you were worried he’d overwork himself. So during a cold Tuesday morning, Yoongi stood under an umbrella as the rain soaked your clothes for the sake of an artistic shot.

You looked happy in between takes. Manuel often struck up conversation with him to ease the tense silence between them, as he usually communicated with you instead of Yoongi, but all he could focus on was you, all wet hair and smiles. You were just too good to be true.

Could Yoongi really trust you? It felt weird even thinking about it, six months after you proposed working together. He certainly should’ve asked himself that first. There might’ve been a possibility you only saw a coworker in him and nothing more, just a stepping stone to get to where you wanted, your last resort. But to Yoongi, it was much more than that.

You gave him a chance to prove himself when no one else did, and he appreciated it so damn much. At certain moments, he felt that maybe you were too giving, and sometimes he even wondered if you were so generous because you pitied him. Of course, you had money, you had resources, you could’ve gotten anything you wanted. So why him?

Of course, being your producer didn’t mean he was entitled to your affections, but… Why were you so friendly, then? Why flirt with him all the time? Were you trying to butter him up so he’d do all the heavy lifting for you? You had all the power there, and Yoongi had opened himself so much for you, he couldn’t even fathom the possibility of you using him. That would’ve been the ultimate betrayal.

While he was deep in his thoughts, the director abruptly cut the scene and asked you to reshoot it just in case. His memory flew back to that night. How desperate you were to feel him, to touch him, to kiss him. How soft your lips felt against his. How happy he was. How much he wanted to scream to the entire world that his heart was full and it was full of you.

Your eyes met all of a sudden as one of the staff members helped you readjust your shirt and quickly retouch your lipstick. You smirked slightly and winked at him, and he melted right then and there.

You were going to be the death of him.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Princess? You’ve been in there for more than half an hour. Are you alright? You’re worrying me,” Yoongi said, his fist repeatedly knocking on the door to your guest bathroom.

Several weeks after promoting your single, you were now gearing towards a Friday release while Yoongi continued mastering the album, with as much help as he could get from you in between photoshoots and meetings with designers to discuss the album artwork.

It was Wednesday, and you thankfully had a free afternoon to spend working with Yoongi and getting ahead as much as possible. However, you’d been having an upset stomach the entire day, and fearing the worst, quickly made your way to the nearest bathroom. That was close to an hour ago.

“Princess?” Yoongi repeated when you didn’t answer, now slightly panicked. Before he could ask again, a faint cry came from the other side and Yoongi, scared, quickly opened the door, grateful you didn’t lock it.

When he entered, to his horror, you were kneeling on the floor, hugging the toilet seat, your hair all over the place and your face incredibly pale. Panicked, Yoongi quickly knelt down next to you and held your hair up as your body convulsed and you retched and vomited. Tears streamed down your face as Yoongi gently rubbed your back.

“There, there you go,” he soothed, nose scrunching from the foul smell. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Your body trembled. “Didn’t wanna bother you,” you said weakly. Yoongi rapidly flushed down the toilet to prevent you from vomiting bile once again. It was already too gross to smell.

“Bullshit,” he said. “Don’t say that again, alright?” He stood up and searched for the spare medicine cabinet, grabbing a bottle of rubbing alcohol and uncapping it, then handing it to you. “Here, smell.”

You took it and swirled it in front of your face to not get hit directly by the odor. Yoongi shut the toilet seat and helped you up so you could sit properly. “Better now?”

You nodded, clutching your belly with your free hand. “Still feel weird, though.”

“That must’ve been the shrimp. Told you the place was sketchy.”

You frowned. “Don’t get sassy on me now. How could I have possibly known the shrimp wasn’t fresh? I’m not a seafood expert.”

He smirked. “Alright, kid, I’ll let it slide.”

“Kid? We’re five years apart! Want me to start calling you old man?”

“Sorry, princess,” he said, leaning into the wall and observing you with soft eyes. “You know what? How about we stop working and have a movie marathon? I could make you some soup, too.”

You smiled. “You don’t have to make me soup. I can just drink some water and I’ll be fine. We still have a lot of work to do.”

“You’re not fine, princess. And I don’t mind halting work for a while if it means you’ll get better. We’re a team, remember?”

His words warmed you up. “Alright,” you relented. “The fridge is empty, though.”

“I can run to the store and whip something up. Are you okay with me leaving for a couple of minutes?”

You nodded.

He didn’t seem so convinced. “Are you sure? You don’t wanna puke a little more?”

You laughed. “Go before I change my mind.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “You’re gonna love it. My mom used to make it for me when I was sick. Works like a charm,” he added as he exited the bathroom and made his way to the front door, slipping his sneakers on relatively quickly, grabbing his wallet and keys, and heading out.

The convenience store was just a block away. A quaint, little shop ran by a family of Cuban immigrants, frequently visited by all the residents in the area. Whenever he visited, one of the sons would greet him in Spanish, to which he thanked himself for learning a bit when he lived in LA, and he would greet them back.

It didn’t take him long to buy all the stuff he needed. It was nothing fancy, just a simple chicken broth with some spices, enough to get you up and running by the end of the day. It was the least he could do.

When he came back, he set the brown paper bags in the kitchen and called out your name, as the apartment was oddly quiet. Shrugging, he made his way towards the studio, but it was empty, so he walked over to your room, the door slightly ajar. Before he could knock, however, he heard a loud, hearty laugh on the other side, and he went still.

“Mom!” You scoffed. Yoongi knew eavesdropping wasn’t exactly a correct thing to do, but when he heard you dropping his name, his blood went cold. “Yoongi’s not like that, what are you even saying!”

He froze. Should he even be listening? You were talking to your mother, so you deserved to have some privacy while you did so.

“We’re not dating mom, get your mind out of the gutter. How can you say that? Yoongi’s my producer and nothing more-” You paused. Yoongi’s heart pounded heavily as you whined to your mom, who most probably assumed you were together due to the rumors you had to squash months ago. Even if what you said was real, that still didn’t take away the fact that you kissed, that the two of you had been endlessly flirting all this time, that there was undeniable chemistry between you.

“I thought you were okay with this. You do understand he’s staying with me because he can’t stay anywhere else, right? Don’t be old-fashioned. I’m just being nice. He already agreed to help me so I had to return the favor- no, mom! Things will change once the album is over-”

Yoongi turned around as silently as he could. He didn’t want to hear anything else.

Was everything a lie? Were you just trying to keep him in your good graces so he could deliver as much as you wanted? Did you not like him at all? His stomach churned with dread and his head spinned as he grabbed his shoes and his keys and sprinted out of your apartment.

By the time he made it to the lobby he had trouble breathing. He just needed fresh air, but the weather had other plans for him. In a twisted sense of irony, it had started raining, just as his eyes leaked tears of their own.

His worst fear came true. You lied to him. You used him. And you had no idea you were breaking his heart in the process.

Your mother called suddenly. You didn’t talk to your parents as often as you’d like, so every couple of weeks either your mom or your dad would call to check up on you, but given as you’d been pretty busy recently, your frequent phone calls had dwindled to probably once a month, except for the occasional text.

So as you made your way to your room to lie down, you catched up with her as she told you all about how your younger siblings were growing up, with the promise to text you more pictures of them and of your pets, as your siblings only texted you whenever they needed something.

While Yoongi went to the store, you had to endure your dear old mother’s endless nagging. She worried about you, and though you appreciated it, you didn’t share some of your parent’s old-fashioned views, such as having a handsome boy living with you. Which resulted in your mother teasing you about those old rumors of you and Yoongi dating.

Because of course, you had to be dating a man to live with him. It just made sense.

Luckily, your parents didn’t have Twitter, so they weren’t as up to date with whatever rumors the press had about you, but they did have Facebook, where news traveled slower (or at least that’s how it went within their friend circle). And although they were aware of Yoongi living with you and didn’t question it, they were under the impression that the two of you were dating.

“Mom!” You yelled, scandalized, when she questioned whether he had pressured you into opening up your apartment to him. “Yoongi’s not like that. What are you even saying!”

“I’m sorry, sweetie, I just can’t really wrap my head around it. You know how your dad and I think. Are you really not dating? Or are you trying to hide something from us?”

You gaped at the phone in shock. How could she doubt you?

“We’re not dating mom, get your mind out of the gutter. How can you say that? Yoongi’s my producer and nothing more-”

“I know, I know he is. I’m just thinking that you two look so good together, and from what you’ve told me he seems like a decent kid. Why don’t you give him a chance? Maybe if you did it you two wouldn’t look so suspicious living together. Why couldn’t he get his own place anyway? I don’t know how things are going on between you but to a stranger it would sound like he’s leeching off you, you know. Living rent-free and all that.”

You groaned. “I thought you were okay with this. You do understand he’s staying with me because he can’t stay anywhere else, right? Don’t be old-fashioned. I’m just being nice. He already agreed to help me so I had to return the favor- no, mom! Things will change once the album is over and released. You know that, right? It’s a temporary thing. Plus, when it’s over, I wanna help him find a place, whether it’s here or in LA.”

“But you’d rather have him there in New York, right?” She inquired.

“I never said that,” you quickly defended.

“Oh, please, sweetie, you might think I’m dumb, but I birthed you. I know you better than you think. And based on the way you talk about that boy, it’s pretty clear you’re into him. So what’s stopping you?”

“It’s not- I don’t…” You sighed. “Fine, I like him. I like him so much it hurts, mom. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? I like him a lot, but… I don’t think he likes me back. I don’t know… He’s so kind to me, so hardworking, so pretty. I just know you’d love him as much as I do.”

“Well, why don’t you go for him?”

You shook your head, then remembered she couldn’t see you. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why? Because he’s your producer? Honey, people get more entangled in the entertainment industry than anywhere else. He’s fair game. Don’t refrain from living the life you wanna live. Don’t be so afraid. I’m sure he’ll see you for what you are. Take that leap, sweetie. You got this.”

When you emerged from your room nearly twenty minutes later, your left ear hot from holding your phone next to it for so long, the smell of chicken broth hit you. While talking to your mother, it had started raining, and you couldn’t wait to sit back and relax on your couch with Yoongi, maybe under some warm blankets, maybe cuddling. Maybe.

He had his back to you when you stepped into the kitchen, busy working on the stove, apron on (he liked to play chef all the time), and you just couldn’t resist to sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around his torso. Yoongi froze under your touch, going still as a rock.

“Hey, it’s me,” you said soothingly, pressing your forehead in between his shoulder blades. He acknowledged your presence with a hum. “Smells great.”

“Hope you like it,” he replied curtly, quickly fishing a spoon from the drying rack to give you a taste. “Wanna try?”

You slowly let him go and planted yourself right by his side, accepting the spoon filled with hot broth. “Coming from you, I don’t think I couldn’t not like it, you know?” You said, blowing gently on the soup before tasting. The aromatic liquid filled you with warmth instantly, the taste reminding you of home. “It’s amazing, Yoon, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N,” he said.

Feeling brave, you stood on your tip-toes and planted a soft kiss to his cheek. “I appreciate it, really.”

He gave you a small smile, but then you realized his eyes were red and puffy, and he’d been sniffing for a bit. You suddenly went tense. “Were you chopping onions or something?”

Yoongi blushed, apparently caught, but quickly defended himself. “Uhh, no, I, uhh… It started raining when I was heading back, and I, umm, I started sneezing a lot, so…”

You doubted what he said, but chose not to push him further. “Well, I hope you don’t catch anything, otherwise I’ll have to make chicken soup for you.”

He smiled again, though it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Let’s hope so.”

[army-author]

hoseok scenario | red faced

❝ Hoseok finds his elf costume embarrassing, and you find your little sister embarrassing ❞

➸ prompt: I work as Santa’s helper at the mall, and you’re visiting with your younger sibling.

➸ pairing: hoseok x reader

➸ requested by anon | 4.4k words | fluff, high school au

Hoseok would rather not let anyone from school see him like this. Especially not you.

With cheeks dusted with blusher and glitter, a red and green hat perched on his dyed hair, and fake elf ears taped to his own, this is one embarrassment he’d rather endure without you finding out about it. But money is a necessity, and he needs a job to keep him floating till college, so Hoseok finds himself posing as one of Santa’s little helpers every day till Christmas Eve.

So far, he’s only seen one or two school friends, and managed to duck behind the sculpted igloo to escape from them, hoping they’ll be distracted by the flashing lights, and by the screeching children. But being in the biggest (and only) mall in town, he knows he’ll see more people he knows as the holiday continues. He only hopes he doesn’t see you. The thought of that pushes up a blush below the make-up caked to his face. Despite being the class clown, there’s a certain type of embarrassment not even he is willing to put up with, especially not in front of his long-standing crush.

Keep reading

[army-author]

jimin scenario | my lie for you (pt.1)

part one | part 2 | epilogue

♡ He’ll keep up this lie to keep you smiling ♡

genre: angst, romance

word count: 6.1k

warnings: mentions of alcohol

Jimin hates playing truth or dare. Always has.

To be more specific, he hates the ‘truth’ part of truth or dare. Dares are fine. He’ll do whatever - get people gasping, “I can’t believe you did that!” – anything, so long as he can avoid ‘truth’.

That’s because Jimin lives a lie. Yes, I’m fine. I’m happy with my life right now. People want to believe it, so they never stop to question. After all, he’s one of the most popular boys at school, blessed with good genes and rich parents. He gets every girl he wants, he has solid seeming friendships, and classmates clamouring to talk to him. Even the boys from the school’s poetry club, the opposite of the popular jock culture Jimin stands for, show interest in him. That’s what it means to be admired. Jimin has everything that leads to happiness, everything… except you.

And so every day Jimin lies. Every morning he wakes up, rubs the sleep from his eyes, and repeats, “I’m okay, I’m happy, I’m not in love.” But he’s not okay, he’s not happy, and he’s hopelessly in love.

Keep reading

[write-crawler]

i am in TEARS with this fic. holy shit. this is class A angst. i felt so bad for Jimin reading this. this is great.

[army-author]

jungkook scenario | the alchemy of amor

❝ jungkook is the arrogant son of the duke. you’re a humble alchemist just trying to make a living. unfortunately for you, jungkook seems to have taken a strange interest in you. when a dangerous wager involving a love potion spirals out of control, you find yourself flung into the deep end of emotion, and it becomes difficult to decipher genuine attraction from magical aftereffect… ❞

➝ prompt: i’m a witch who’s been experimenting with love-potion formulas, but there’s been a bit of a mix-up, and now the love-potion has somehow ended up in your hands, and you’re drinking it, and - no, please stop!

➝ pairing: jungkook x female reader

➝ genre: fluff, fantasy au, enemies to lovers

➝ requested by anon | 15.5k words

➝ warnings: profanity, mild injury, implied smut, some characters express misogynist sentiments

➝ author’s note: i hope you enjoy it! i had a lot of fun writing it. as you can see from the word count, i got a bit carried away. i can’t help it, i love enemies to lovers!

Oh goddess above, please not this. Anything but this.

You are not wont to pray, but in circumstances such as this, with your life unravelling before you in tattered ribbons, your mind recalls the goddess you so often forget. Watching in horror, your supplications come thick and fast, as Jeon Jungkook downs the phial of rose-gold potion, and with it, swallows the hours of work you had invested into those shimmering contents.

Normally, you would not be so perturbed by the wasting of a potion, even one as rare as Impetus Amor. Ingredients can always be re-bought, potions can always be re-brewed. But something about Jungkook’s cocky expression as he sets down the vial, and raises a brow at you, overwhelms you with the heat of irrational fury.

“Mighty goddess above, what is wrong with you?” you spit venom more potent than your potions. “You know very well how long that took to brew!”

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, “Tough.” He smacks his lips together, “Looks like the potion doesn’t work anyway. And on top of that, it tastes bad. Like dried roses and soap.”

How does he know what dried roses and soap taste like?

“It wasn’t intended for you,” you retort through gritted teeth.

You know that the potion does work. After all the work you invested - collecting rose-petals, gold shavings, and pegasus feathers, all to be brewed on a blue moon, and then carefully distilled – there was no way that the batch of Impetus Amor was unsuccessful. But every alchemist worth their gold knows that the finicky love potion takes a few minutes to take effect after ingestion.

Which means that in a few minutes Jeon Jungkook, the man you hate most, will involuntarily fall in love with you.

Keep reading

[transxfiles]

me: *writes fic*

me: great! time to post to ao3-

ao3 summary box: *exists*

me: 

ao3 summary box:

me:

ao3 summary box: 

me:

[rooksandravens]

[rjeddystone]

Ooh, this is actually kinda a neat thing, because you can think of it as a checklist:

Who: Main character(s)

Why: Character goal or desire (stated)

Why: Character need (implied)

When: Inciting Incident

What: Means (that achieves the goal/need)

Where: Place A >> Place B

How: The Plan

Obstacle(s): antagonist or challenge

For example:

Who: Bilbo Baggins, a respectable hobbit of Hobbiton

Why: Treasure, wealth (stated)

Why: Adventure, self-respect (implied)

When: After supper

What: Quest

Where: Hobbiton >> The Lonely Mountain

How: A company of dwarves, a wizard, and an ancient map and key

Main antagonist(s): a dragon

Thus, in less than 100 words:

Bilbo Baggins is a respectable hobbit in Hobbiton, never making any trouble or having any adventures. But when a wizard and a company of dwarves invite themselves to dinner, Bilbo finds himself joining their quest from the shires of Hobbiton to the legendary Lonely Mountain, the home of a long lost treasure, and quite, possibly, a dragon.  

~~~~

The Anatomy of Story by John Truby is a really good book by the by, if anyone’s interested in this sort of thing.

[roguecompanion1812]

This is super helpful!’

[kookiesjoonies]

rule breaker — jhs | series masterlist.

banner made by my platonic soulmate, @ppersonna.

fic type: social media au

main pairing: choreographer!hoseok x idol!reader

side ships: vmin, namkook

genre: angst

warnings: fluff, future smut, crack, language, sexual themes, pining, slowish burn, more to be added

status: ongoing 

*if you would like to be added to the tag list, send me an ask!

— SERIES SUMMARY

your career as an idol comes first, end of discussion. and to make sure that you stay on track, you implement two foolproof rules to abide by:

rule #1: no distractions. rule #2: no mixing business with pleasure.

and those rules seem simple enough to follow. that is, until you develop a crush on your new choreographer.

Keep reading

[write-crawler]

i really liked this fic, hobi was so sweet 💖💕😭

[iprefertheterminsane]

SHOUT OUT TO MY WRITER HOMIES WITH MUSLIM OCS/CHARACTERS;

1. WEARING A SHAWL TO BATTLE IS THE EQUIVALENT OF HAVING GIRLS FIGHT IN STILLETTOS. 

Just so you know, this is what I’m talking about;

-Is it bad-ass? Abso-fucking-lutely. Is it Practical? Not a chance in hell. Especially not if it’s silk. If it’s cotton, you are skating on thin fucking ice. That bitch will NOT stay on. It barely stays on with me just walking down the street to Walmart. Wielding axes and rifles and swords and daggers? I PROMISE you it will not do the job it’s expected to-WHICH IS TO COVER THE HAIR. (Some muslim girls dont wear them-and that’s fine. But those who DO do it to completely cover the hair in public. Is it ~Aesthetic~ to see the flyaway hairs in battle? Sure, but those aren’t usually practical either. )Consider instead; 

sport shawls 

-For one thing, it’s actually DESIGNED to be worn to atheletic activities. Archers tuck hems into the collar of their shirts so they don’t get in the way, and track runners pins (ill get to this bit later) them down into the shirts to prevent flyaway bits and to stop them from getting slapped in the face. It’s breathable, stretchy, presentable without being attention seeking. 

Bawals 

In a pinch, bawals work just as well-as long as you specify that they are COTTON. Unlike the shawl, which are rectangular, bawals are SQUARE, and thus easier to manipulate, fold and pin down. If you wear it right, they carry an equal aesthetic value to shawls, and come in plenty of pretty patterns as well. 

2. I’m not sure about the USA, but the girls I know wear this underneath the headscarf;

Does it kinda look like a beanie? It sort of works like a beanie too. Hair is slippery. It tucks in any extra hair you might miss just by wearing the headscarf, its harder to pull down and on the event the shawl DOES fall down, your hair is still not exposed. It protects the ears-which is important even on a daily basis, because pins, headphones and any other headgear that might pinch them. It comes in plenty of designs, including ones that has open backs to allow long hair and ponytails. 

3.SPEAKING OF PINS; I’M TALKING ABOUT THESE BAD BOYS;

BROOCHES 

though , i suppose most of y’all are most familiar with safety pins, right?

what’s the difference? Well, if your oc/character is an athlete, it’s actually LEAST likely they’ll be wearing SAFETY PINS. They’re cheap and super easy to buy in bulk, true, but they also SUPER easy to wear out even with the smallest amount of strenuous activity. Between the three of ‘em, I’d put the brooches as the best option to wear in battle because 1) it has a large surface area, thus hurts less when pressed on with heavy items, which includes bag straps and weapons, (pins are sharp and can poke you painfully);  and 2) more secure-the latch is covered by the gaudy jewellery above, and theyre usually smaller and tighter. Stays on the stubbornnest, even when headscarf is pulled. very roughly. I’m saying that even the cheapest brooches will allow the shawl to be ripped apart before even letting it go. 

3. They probably ponytail their hair. Because Come On, guys.

Anyway it’s been bothering me and I just thought if yall could bother knowing the difference between skin tones for POC you could bother with muslim practicalities too. Or something 

[fantasybangtan-deactivated20231]

𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒃𝒓𝒂 (𝒌𝒕𝒉) | 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚  ⟶ when your boss offers the chance to take down the nation’s most lucrative gang from the inside out, you know you’ll do it no matter what the cost… even if that means entering an arranged marriage with the kingpin himself.

♔ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆 : 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒔 

♔ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐 : 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚

♔ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 : 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒖𝒃𝒊𝒆𝒔 

↳ recap

♔ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓 : 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒅𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔

↳ recap

♔ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆 : 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔

↳ recap

♔ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒙 : 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒛𝒊𝒏𝒈

♔ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 : 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒋𝒂𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒔

♔ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕: 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒔

[𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏]

𝒂/𝒏 ⟶ ‘recaps’ of the previous chapter will be posted the day of the following one as a quick reminder of any key discoveries/events that have occurred.

𝒇𝒂𝒒 

𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒑𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆?  ⟶ I used to update at 10pm EST every saturday, but to avoid burnout I will be avoiding a strict update schedule for the foreseeable future. 

𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒖𝒑 𝒂𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈? ⟶ haha, I promise I’m not! this series was planned long before I started writing it. at the moment each chapter has been structured in detail on my laptop and I do the actual ‘writing out’ part week-by-week. 

𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒆? ⟶ right now I’m working at about 15. if this changes at any point, I’ll be sure to let you know. 

𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕? ⟶ I do indeed. if you’d like to be added, either drop me an ask/dm or leave a comment under any post that has the hashtag ‘queen cobra’ on it. I post the taglist in the comments section of each chapter right after uploading. 

𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍/𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙛𝙞𝙩 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 [𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓]? ⟶ I might! here are the ones I have been asked for so far:

𝒐𝒄 ⟶ here

𝒕𝒂𝒆𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒈 ⟶ here

𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 ⟶ here

𝒂𝒓𝒂 ⟶ here

𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒐𝒖𝒔/𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒔

qc character ages

on hoseok’s role

why taehyung?

on the ‘real’ dove

oc + pregnancy stuff 

what does jungkook wear on duty?

what if the bureau found out about mars?

[ironicarmy-deactivated20210817]

just like a dream I | myg

↣ pairing: yoongi x reader

↣ genre: drama, angst, fluff, rapper!yg, popstar!reader, hollywood!au, future smut, slow burn

↣ rating: +18

↣ word count: 5.5k

↣ warnings: cursing, drinking, really mild mentions of anxiety?? but nothing too serious, class differences

↣ chapter soundtrack: piano man - billy joel // la la land - demi lovato // city of stars - ryan gosling & emma stone // dreams - fleetwood mac

↣ summary: A cookie-cutter pop star looking for a change of pace finds herself in the underground LA scene, catching the attention from none other than the undisputed king, Agust D. Wanting to shed her innocent image, she shockingly enlists him to produce her following album, but they both end up with more than they bargained for…

↣ notes: this is for the Agust D event held by @houseofddaeng​!! beta read by @dee-ehn (thank you so much as always bb!!!) and also banner by the lovely @namluve​

masterlist | next

Keep reading

[hobidreams]

Moonlit Throne | Masterlist

“do you… trust me?” it’s a low whisper, soft lips pressed against the stuttering pulse in your throat. but you think, or maybe you hope, the implications are trying to delve much deeper into your heart. regardless, your answer has never wavered. 

“yes.”

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst, fluff parts posted: 23/~45 words: 32k/? contains: drabble series, historical au, royal au, the very definition of “it’s complicated,” inspired by daechwita. a/n: please pay attention to the dates, but read in the order that the drabbles are listed, not in chronological!

historical context/references. | fic playlist.

february 1869 {m} - your king takes care of you and his business, no matter who is watching.

Keep reading

[worldwithinworld]

When you are writing a story and refer to a character by a physical trait, occupation, age, or any other attribute, rather than that character’s name, you are bringing the reader’s attention to that particular attribute. That can be used quite effectively to help your reader to focus on key details with just a few words. However, if the fact that the character is “the blond,” “the magician,” “the older woman,” etc. is not relevant to that moment in the story, this will only distract the reader from the purpose of the scene. 

If your only reason for referring to a character this way is to avoid using his or her name or a pronoun too much, don’t do it. You’re fixing a problem that actually isn’t one. Just go ahead and use the name or pronoun again. It’ll be good.

[roane72]

Someone finally spelled out the REASON for using epithets, and the reasons NOT to.

[futureevilscientist]

In addition to that:

If the character you are referring to in such a way is THE VIEWPOINT CHARACTER, likewise, don’t do it. I.e. if you’re writing in third person but the narration is through their eyes, or what is also called “third person deep POV”. If the narration is filtered through the character’s perception, then a very external, impersonal description will be jarring. It’s the same, and just as bad, as writing “My bright blue eyes returned his gaze” in first person.

[cimness]

Furthermore, 

if the story is actually told through the eyes of one particular viewpoint character even though it’s in the third person, and in their voice, as is very often the case, then you shouldn’t refer to the characters in ways that character wouldn’t.

In other words, if the third-person narrator is Harry Potter, when Dumbledore appears, it says “Dumbledore appears”, not “Albus appears”. Bucky Barnes would think of Steve Rogers as “Steve”, where another character might think of him as “Cap”. Chekov might think of Kirk as “the captain”, but Bones thinks of him as “Jim”. 

Now, there are real situations where you, I, or anybody might think of another person as “the other man”, “the taller man”, or “the doctor”: usually when you don’t know their names, like when there are two tap-dancers and a ballerina in a routine and one of the men lifts the ballerina and then she reaches out and grabs the other man’s hand; or when there was a group of people talking at the hospital and they all worked there, but the doctor was the one who told them what to do. These are all perfectly natural and normal. Similarly, sometimes I think of my GP as “the doctor” even though I know her name, or one of my coworkers as “the taller man” even though I know his. But I definitely never think of my long-term life partner as “the green-eyed woman” or one of my best friends as “the taller person” or anything like that. It’s not a sensible adjective for your brain to choose in that situation - it’s too impersonal for someone you’re so intimately acquainted with. Also, even if someone was having a one night stand or a drunken hookup with a stranger, they probably wouldn’t think of that person as “the other man”: you only think of ‘other’ when you’re distinguishing two things and you don’t have to go to any special effort to distinguish your partner from yourself to yourself.

[undertailsoulsex]

This is something that I pretty consistently have to advise for those I beta edit.  (It doesn’t help that I relied on epithets a lot in the earlier sections of my main fic because I was getting into the swing of things.)  I am reblogging this so fanfic writers can use this as a reference.

A good rule of thumb: a character’s familiarity with another character decreases the need for an epithet (and most times you really don’t need one at all).

[fantasybangtan-deactivated20231]

something to hold on to (myg)

❦ word count. 17.7k ❦ genre. parent fic, fluff, angst, a bit of boob action ❦ warnings. illness, mention of hospitalisation, mention of minor character death, yoongi is kind of a dick sometimes, accidental(?) flashing ❦ summary. it’s not that you don’t like your job. on the contrary, reading bedtime stories to a certified little princess is something you still can’t believe you get paid to do. it’s just that between all the school runs, snow days and secret second hot chocolates before bed, you may fallen a little too hard for those dimpled cheeks and gummy smiles…. worse still, you’ve fallen for her father too.  ❦ a/n. merry christmas everyone!! this fic is a collaboration with the wonderful @underthejoon​ @kpopfanfictrash​ @suga-kookiemonster​ @junghelioseok​ @bendthekneetobangtan​ @lamourche​ and @hobidreams​. it’s late, lame and cheesy (and probably under-edited) but I like it that way. I hope you’re all having a fantastic holiday, wherever you may be <3 

Keep reading

[moldstars-deactivated20230721]

writing is simple. i put my characters into a situation that i, the author, cannot figure out how to get them out of and i close the document

[fantasybangtan-deactivated20231]

the great hall

welcome, members of the court and esteemed guests, to the great hall. please take a seat, pour yourself a chalice of our finest wine and join us as we embark on this succulent seven-course feast. 

ᴀʟʟᴇʀɢᴇɴs — please be sure to read the menu carefully. works marked (m) are mature. kindly avoid these dishes if you are not yet of age. 

all rights reserved © fantasybangtan 2019. no reposts, translations or modifications allowed on any platform. steal our recipes, or those of our allies for that matter, and our warriors will be after you.

n a m j o o n ;

— all rise, for your beloved king is making his entrance. pray charge your glasses to his good health and long reign. 

[ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ sᴏᴏɴ]

s e o k j i n ;

— if it is merriment you seek, look no further than the seat beside our court jester. the night is never dull when spent in his rambunctious company. 

ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs

once bitten, twice shy | working a twenty-four hour shift at the hospital was pretty low on the list of things you’d hoped to be doing on christmas eve. fortunately for you, doctor kim - golden boy of the ward and, coincidentally, your arch nemesis - is around to keep things interesting.

y o o n g i ;

— do not be fooled by his stoical exterior, we promise the count is soft at heart. he might be quiet now, but wait until he sees you in that dress. he turns into quite the charmer when somebody takes his fancy.

[ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ sᴏᴏɴ]

h o s e o k ;

— oh, the duke has arrived! and with him a great barrel of red wine from his vineyard. this man is never shy of having a good time, and no celebration is complete without him. 

ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs

oranges & lemons | despite what the human folk might like to believe, being goddess of the harvest is no walk in the orchard - especially not when your father’s silver-tongued attorney rocks up at the family villa with every intention of distracting you. (m)

j i m i n ;

— who, him? why, that is the young prince, of course. heir to the throne of the pearl palace. do not let your gaze linger too long though, my lady, for his obscene good looks threaten that you may never manage to pry it away again. 

ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs

quid pro quo | lawyer au. namjoon gives you and jimin twenty minutes alone to reconcile your differences. in hindsight, this probably wasn’t his brightest idea. (m)

sᴇʀɪᴇs

of stars erased | you are a citizen of seoul - one of only a few thousand survivors after a violent war that tore your country apart. jimin is a member of the faceless law enforcement who serve to implement the government’s totalitarian regime. when worlds collide, an unlikely friendship places both of your lives on the line. (m)

[01] [02] ✓

t a e h y u n g ;

— oh, the baron. now there’s a man worthy of note. the wealthiest bachelor in the kingdom, there’s little wonder all the women at the table tonight (and dare I say, a few of the men too) are after his heart. 

ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs

black marauder | when it comes to getting what she wants, a true pirate seldom abides by the rules - and admiral kim taehyung is about to learn just how dirty you can play it. (m)

sᴇʀɪᴇs

queen cobra | when your boss offers the chance to take down the nation’s most lucrative gang from the inside out, you know you’ll do it no matter what the cost… even if that means entering an arranged marriage with the kingpin himself. (m)

series masterlist ✎ 

ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇs

persephone & hades | a greek mythology modernisation. persephone takes to the streets of nyc in search of her fiancé’s hideout.

j u n g k o o k ;

— general of the kingdom’s army and defender of the court, this young man is not to be trifled with… but stumble into him later as you await your carriage in the cold, and you might just see his soft side when he wraps his cloak around your shoulders. clandestine smiles are a language all of their own around here, my lady.

ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs

wintervale | jungkook proves his allegiance to the throne of your kingdom. (m)

find my discontinued/long-term hiatus fics | here

[transxfiles]

me: *writes fic*

me: great! time to post to ao3-

ao3 summary box: *exists*

me: 

ao3 summary box:

me:

ao3 summary box: 

me:

[rooksandravens]

[rjeddystone]

Ooh, this is actually kinda a neat thing, because you can think of it as a checklist:

Who: Main character(s)

Why: Character goal or desire (stated)

Why: Character need (implied)

When: Inciting Incident

What: Means (that achieves the goal/need)

Where: Place A >> Place B

How: The Plan

Obstacle(s): antagonist or challenge

For example:

Who: Bilbo Baggins, a respectable hobbit of Hobbiton

Why: Treasure, wealth (stated)

Why: Adventure, self-respect (implied)

When: After supper

What: Quest

Where: Hobbiton >> The Lonely Mountain

How: A company of dwarves, a wizard, and an ancient map and key

Main antagonist(s): a dragon

Thus, in less than 100 words:

Bilbo Baggins is a respectable hobbit in Hobbiton, never making any trouble or having any adventures. But when a wizard and a company of dwarves invite themselves to dinner, Bilbo finds himself joining their quest from the shires of Hobbiton to the legendary Lonely Mountain, the home of a long lost treasure, and quite, possibly, a dragon.  

~~~~

The Anatomy of Story by John Truby is a really good book by the by, if anyone’s interested in this sort of thing.

[kinktae]

groovy || pt. 1 (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

Even in the 70s, it goes without saying that you shouldn’t have feelings for your best friend’s little sister. 

pairing: tae x childhood friend!reader

word count: 9k

genre: 1970s au, fluff, ANGST, eventual smut, f2l

warnings: disco man!hoseok, hippie!jimin, themes of death (OD), family problems, lack of coping, alcohol abuse, and a very flawed OC

A/N: Thank you @kittae for helping me with this fic and letting me user her likeness! This fic was entirely inspired by the song If I Could Tell her by from the musical Dear Evan Hansen (seriously, I even used some of the lyrics as dialogue!) Go give it a listen ;)

OFFICIAL PLAYLIST

01 | 02

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

PART ONE

“Man, this station is buggin’!” Hoseok declared, shoulders slumping as he handed Taehyung the six, bundled up dollar bills.

Taehyung grabbed the money eagerly, letting out a melodic whistle as the familiar sound of Elton John and Kiki Dee drifted into the room.

Hoseok sent a glare at the small radio that was perched up on the counter.

“How is anyone meant to get down to Elton John? The system’s rigged.” The bitter man scoffed.

“I like this song.” Jimin offered, causing Hoseok to frown.

“Of course you do.” He glared.

“I don’t get why you play this game with him in the first place.” Jimin shook his head. “Tae literally works at a record shop. He gets paid to listen to music all day.”

“He’s got a point.” Taehyung grinned, unable to hide his smugness.

Keep reading