I'm Writing. I'm Writing. I'm Writing. I'm Writing. I'm Writing. I'm Writing. I'm Writing. I'm Writing.

i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing. i'm writing.

*internet cuts off tumblr and actually makes me write*

what a romance writer loves to hear: so, tell me about your two idiots

HALLO!! So, I recently followed you per that writeblr friends post of yours and I have bad memory so I need to connect your stories you you as fast as possible. So, here’s the plan, a fact for a fact.

In my story, Plains, Ether, Hearth, the main character is named Rowan and he is endlessly curious and confused. He is well known for being able to hear buildings speak and for being raised by the demon creatures out in the wild.

Now, can I hear about your main character? Or any random fact about any of your stories really :)

hi there! thank you so much for the ask xx

ooh yeah! I didn't really talk about my works/characters in the post because I wanted to hear more about everyone else haha. it was a great way for me to stan new characters and literally cry/laugh/fangirl over all your writings! thank you for participating, by the way.

HEAR BUILDINGS SPEAK? I'm actually really curious to see how this works haha.

My character Hyeri struggles with expressing herself, and is mainly always confused, but she has too much pride to say otherwise. She's constantly caught between trying to fit in with her parent's (and her) culture-Korea-and America. To be honest, she feels more American than she does Korean, which she hates, but there's so many aspects that she struggles with, from the language to the mannerisms. She's scared to ask for help, and it's just a mixture of her trying to sort out whether she likes or hates this country while dealing with her family haha.

Most books have main characters that can't really fit in with American values, but I've never really seen it the other way around, and I think most bilingual or people with parents directly from that culture deal with that issue (I know I have).

Sorry this explanation got pretty long! If you have another random fact about your story or character, I'd love to hear it!

Rewatching, rereading, or reliving your comfort series and then finishing it is the worst feeling. You start off alright, happy to be back. It feels as if you’re coming home, but by the time you end it, it’s like you’re leaving home. It feels so completely wrong but you cannot change the fact that the story is nearing the end. It creates an ache in your chest, you automatically miss it and wish to go back.

i'm telling you this because i'm struggling with it, too.

stop second guessing and doubting yourself. stop getting imposter syndrome while writing. stop comparing.

i know it's hard to stop, and this is a process i always struggle with. but it's awful when you get tunnel vision, seeing all the plot holes and every little grammatical error made. i open my wip's sometimes, and get such bad anxiety that i can't even write, because i'm so scared. it literally doesn't make sense, but it happens.

but learn to love what you write. grow attached to your characters, and write whatever you want. write for yourself first. and no matter what, whether it's one word or sentence that you wrote that day, be proud of yourself.

self validation and self care comes before a completed novel or mesmerizing characters.

<3

what fate decides [taehyung x reader] [part 1]

drabble count: 5

join tag list for future works | masterlist of all works previous | next drabble

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 all three parts are currently completed, but if you want early access to all of them, become a member on my ko-fi page! 💞

summary: You're a beta in love with your best friend, alpha Kim Taehyung. Except you know that you can never fulfill his dominating urges, so you draw a line between the two of you. Cherish his small kisses and embraces until an omega has to come along.

Until one day, you're not a beta anymore. Now, it's nearly impossible to resist the protective, endearing alpha in front of you.

pairing: taehyung x reader

chapter tags/warnings: angst, self-depricating thoughts, fluff, alpha/omega, a/b/o dynamics, best friends to lovers, slow burn ish, smut, mature, swearing

If there’s one thing you pride yourself on, it’s being a year older—and thus wiser—than Kim Taehyung. Taehyung Kim. Tae-tae. Whatever the idol’s nickname is. He’s got thousands, no doubt. 

Or at least, you think it’s easier pretending not to know him. You see the idol on the screen, hear your friends gushing over him, and wonder if the two of you ever becoming close—so close that you were inseparable when you were younger—was a dream. Back then, the day turned into a week, a week into years, and a year into years. 

Sometimes the feeling of nostalgia sinks in when you scroll through your old texts with him. Sometimes you wish to beg him to come back when he takes a flight back to Korea, but you realize that one of you has to be the adult. And because you’re older, it basically means that the responsibility falls on you, no matter how stubborn or persistent he is. 

Thank God you’re a beta, and unaffected by his alpha presence. The fact that he is an alpha is infuriating. His ego is large enough, and though he loves basking in compliments, lips curling upwards into a boxy smile, there needs to be someone to knock him down a peg or two. Hence, the (somewhat) calm-headed, (mostly) logical beta: you. 

Though he really is testing that side of you right now, pulling at your heartstrings. When you told the idol that he can visit your apartment in Los Angeles, you didn’t mean, “Hey, bring all your members along so I can be humiliated in Harry Potter pajamas and blubbering Korean.” Except now the idols entered your apartment anyways, and Taehyung was giving them a tour like he owned it, flinging his arms out and pointing at various exhibitions—your rooms. 

“Here, Noona,” he flings the hoodie draped over his arm at you. “You look cold.” 

“I—thanks, Taehyung.” You respond gratefully. Not that Los Angeles is cold. The sun’s beating down through your curtains, the light bright enough to blind you in the mornings as you sip a coffee on your plush, red sofa. But since you were younger, you’ve always been cold, especially once you woke up. 

“You have any snacks? Or ice cream? Jungkook might be hungry.” The alpha steps closer to you when you slide your head through the hoodie, trying to find the hole from your left arm. Grasping the fabric, he holds it out for you, and you beam up at him. 

“I think so. I can also whip out something if you guys want breakfast.”

“No,” he says, voice firm, eyes locking with the members. “I came to hang out with you, not make you serve breakfast.” 

“It’s really okay,” Jungkook adds hastily, and Jimin smirks in return. Then, someone’s stomach grumbles in reply, and you all glance at the blushing leader.

“It’s me digesting!” He blurts. You snort at how ridiculous it sounds, because seriously. If they came to Los Angeles, it’s a crime to not eat. The food here is a fusion of all cultures blended together, which is why it has one of the best ones in the world. You know your mother hates hearing this, but you think that the food in Koreatown suits your tastes better than the authentic food in Korea. It’s just a perfect blend between the modern and traditional culture, and you can’t go back. 

“There’s leftover gamjatang in the refrigerator that I brought yesterday, if you guys want. I also have rice and can make you a—”

“Y/N,” your friend insists, wrapping an arm around your waist to prevent you from going anywhere. Not Noona. Not ya, or some other rude nickname he gives to you when he should respect that you’re older (though it is just a year, Korean standards say otherwise). “Stop. I know you’re tired. You don’t need to.”

You stare up at Taehyung, who has his hair slicked back and is staring back into your eyes, as if challenging you. Ugh. Screw him. You know he knows that you’re terrible with eye contact.

“It’s not that I feel the need to,” you explain, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. “I want to, I promise.” 

Taking care of people—Taehyung included—made your heart swell, and made you soft inside. Your love language giving wise is acts of service, and yeah, it might end up with you giving more than you should, or people taking advantage of you. Taehyung had seen that happen firsthand with his ex-girlfriends, or with those who had a crush on him, thinking that you did that because you were forced to. But these are his members, people he’s been with for years and trusts.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, lowering your voice. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

Running a hand through his hair, he nods and stalks off where Yoongi is residing on your couch. You smile brightly at the rest of the members, who have been quiet or averting their gazes at your conversation. 

“You want help setting the table?” Jin offers. You nod. 

“I was also thinking about making some kimchi stew.”

“I can make that!” Jimin pipes in. 

“Jimin ah,” Namjoon winces. “Your last kimchi-jigae was too salty. Maybe next time.”

“But practice makes perfect.” The idol rolls up his sleeves, suddenly looking determined to prove himself. “Just get me an apron, and I’ll whip up a masterpiece in seconds.” 

“Or Taehyung can, since he’s been learning how to cook,” Namjoon says, wincing. Oh, yeah. You heard about that on social media, him uploading pictures of his food or sending them to you. 

“My kitchen isn’t big enough,” you tell him regretfully. “I think Jin and I will have to make do.”

That part is true. Washing the dishes is a one-man show, because next to it is the refrigerator, and then the cabinet. The stove is behind you, and a small counter divides the kitchen with the living room. It’s cozy, but because LA apartments are so expensive, you had to make do with this small one. Even if Taehyung pressed about buying you a house, you couldn’t accept it. What would his future girlfriend think, that he brought his best friend a house? Knowing how conservative Korea is, you don’t want to step over that line.

Plus, you get free reign to place rugs anywhere you want on the hardwood ground. 

You hold in a laugh with the grateful glance the leader shoots you, and ushers Jimin away. 

“And how do you expect me to come to your shoot?”

“I’ll let the staff know,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “And you can just come in and watch.”

“You’re what—twenty something? All grown up. You can handle a shoot on your own.”

“But you’ve never seen me work.”

“I’ve seen you work. At concerts.” 

“It’s not the same thing, Noona. And you said that you’d hang out with me when I came to visit you. You weren’t lying, were you? You said you’d make up for all the birthdays we missed apart.”

Ding ding. Another point for Taehyung. “Alright, where’s your shoot?”

“In Korea.”

“Korea!” You practically shriek. “Taehyung, no.”

“Why not? You said your novel’s set in Korea, isn’t it? It’ll be good research, and you get to see your parents.”

Yeah, this is a good opportunity for you, as a writer who literally has no job except freelancing. But… 

“Noona.” The word alone makes you flinch, and you sigh at the idol in front of you. Legs crossed in front of you, Taehyung juts his lower lip out, pouting. He intentionally parted his bangs to give you a pleading look, too—but you refuse for it to affect you—you never know what this alpha is up to next. “C’mon.” 

Then again, your willpower is never that strong around him.

“No, Taehyung. I can’t go.”

“Is this about the money?” When is it not about the money? 

“I have plenty of money,” he adds. You snort. 

“Yeah, that much is obvious.” He’s practically plastered on every billboard, and any moments he has with women are trending. Though you don’t tell him, your favorites are the book memes that come out of it. God, you feel awful for laughing, but it’s just hilarious. Like the meme of how this one person mentioned that they’d get pregnant if Taehyung gave her the gaze of “I’ll take you to the bookstore.”

“What are you giggling about?” The corner of his mouth tugs up into a smile, and he pokes your cheek. 

“Nothing.” A grin stretches across your face. “Seriously. I’m saving up for Korea myself, don’t waste your money on me.” 

“I love giving you my money,” he retorts immediately. “And you always stole my money in high school, what’s a few years older?”

“Shut up!” You smack his shoulder, and he snickers. “I’m pretty sure I paid back that amount enough, too, dealing with you.”

“I told you, I can help you out. You know I make more than enough.” But your pride won’t let him. As someone older than him, it’s ingrained in you to pay for him, not the other way around.

“It’s—it’s my job because I’m older—”

“Get that thought out of your head,” he murmurs. Taehyung takes a deep breath. “I love taking care of you, Y/N, alright?”

“You need to stop using my name,” you groan. “It’s rude. How have we become this casual over the course of what? Over a decade?” 

“I like your name.” And he inches closer, nose brushing your neck as he places a soft kiss there. You don’t even know how he knows that you’d melt from that, but you do. Hands shoot out to grab his biceps, and he rests his forehead in that crook, body at an odd angle because he’s hunching over you, torso twisted. 

Taehyung likes physical contact, you remind yourself. Nothing more, nothing less. Again, thank God you’re a beta, and your scent—both giving off and smelling—is minimal. Also, bless the universe that the alpha in front of you is wearing suppressants today. 

“I missed you,” he whispers. 

You press your lips together. “I don’t know. I wasn’t planning to, but—”

“Please,” he hushes, breath hitting your skin. Making the moment so intimate. “Come with me.”

Hands hold both sides of his cheeks, and you stare. Rub your thumb in circles, and his eyes darken. Darken with a promise, with worry from your answer, with something. 

“Okay,” you say. “Okay.” 

A week later, upon arriving in Korea, Taehyung sends you a text, along with a pinned location.

Taehyung: Come.

Taehyung: Please.

Taehyung: I’ll be waiting.

“He’s not in a good mood today,” Namjoon comments on the obvious. Taehyung isn’t out here yet, but the other members are slowly trickling in.  

As you stand in the midst of the photoshoot for Vogue, you nod. “Thanks for letting me know.”

In return, the leader mimics your action and heads over to the director. The chatter around you is growing, as interns run in with drinks for the staff and the idols, and as directors shout where the lights should be placed. It’s like the scene is shifting in circles around you, and as you hide in the corner, you love it. Watching everyone enter their own element, running on adrenaline until the shoot is over. The determined glances, the peering in the cameras, the directing. Your heartbeat quickens seeing everything unfold in front of you, and you rock on your heels to contain your excitement. 

“Ah, hello!” Hoseok smiles. “Can I ask you a favor?”

Well, that’s sudden. “Uh, su—”

“Can you get Taehyung? He’s—well—” The idol stumbles over his words. “He’s in one of his moods. And, well, since we’re all alphas, we don’t want to be messing with his area.”

Oh. Oh. You flush. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Ah, yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck, and stunned into awkward silences, the two of you slink away from one another. “He’s in the dressing room.”

Roaming down the halls, you knock on his door. Well, BTS’s door. 

No answer. 

“Taehyung?” You question, and stick your head in. The dark mess of hair stiffens when you do. 

“Did the members send you here?”

You can’t help yourself, gazing at his muscles and the hard ridges of his body as he slumps down the chair, legs open wide. In fact, your mouth almost goes slack at the sight, but you reign it in, knowing that the other members are waiting. Because Taeyoung’s broodiness—or, him being pissed all morning—could only mean one thing. He’s about to go into rut soon. 

“Bad morning?” You chirp from where you’re at, not wanting to intrude or do something that would piss him off even further. There was never a telltale sign as to what Taeyoung hated, so close to rut. Not that he ever lashed out at you. But you saw how he would grimace, or hide the discomfort of your actions. 

“Ha. Very funny,” the idol grumbles, then frowns. “Why are you so far away?”

“No reason,” you grin, and inch closer. “Just thought you wanted to sit alone today.”

“Sit on me,” he orders, grouchy. You carefully settle yourself on his thighs, but can’t help but shift forward to drape yourself all over him. You can’t help it—he’s just that comfortable. His shoulder is the perfect pillow for you to rest your head on, and the crook of his neck is the perfect place for you to dig your face into, hiding away from the world. And it’s like he owns you, with the way his palm sometimes curves around your nape, or the way he guides you, or the way he curves his hand around your hip and draws you closer. 

You tell yourself it’s the Alpha instincts within him, taking care of his best friend. In his mindset, you’re pack. Making sure that your nervousness isn’t stinking up the room. Making sure you’re safe and tended to. 

But sometimes, you hallucinate. 

“Are you staying until I end today?”

“That’s what I was planning to do, unless it goes on for too long.”

“I didn’t know if you were coming today,” he admits. His arms tightening around you and pulls you closer, smothering you in his scent. Of the ocean. Of sand. It’s nice. The issue is that your heart flutters when catching hints of it, like it did in high school. Then it’d fall, or be stomped to pieces when he came home every night talking about the girl he wanted to impress. You forgot her name—never bothered to learn it in the first place, just trying to pick up your broken pieces when he shattered you. And one day, he came home, saying he lost his virginity. Saying that he was happy he gave it away to the one person.

That’s when your project began. To move on from Taeyoung, the reason of your existence. Because the only reason you two met was because of your mothers. That’s it. If not, fate would have never allowed you to collide.

And you understood. He’s an Alpha, with urges no less. You’re a beta. You weren’t going to ruin anything. 

“Namjoon showed me the fancy director chair you got me,” you tease, fingers finding his hair and tugging a strand. 

“Mhm.” A deep inhale. “I better go.”

The untangling is slow, but you cherish those moments, keep it tucked away with memories only you have with him while your mind chastises your heart. 

It’s just like every other night back then, you tell yourself. Taehyung’s oblivious to your feelings, and you’re here beating yourself up over it without saying anything.

And you know—if you’re going to keep quiet, you shouldn’t take it out on Taehyung because that would be unfair to him. 

Besides. You loved him too much to break what the two of you have.

to be continued...