Beautiful Writing - Tumblr Posts

Angels walk among us. With crooked halos and shattered wings, they walk among us and try to remember what it felt like to be holy. Stretching out their arms and reminding themselves of what it felt like to soar.

Gods walk among us. Trapped inside too small bodies with nothing but the memories of when they were everything, and dream of the worlds and empires they helped forge. Their hands had once built galaxies, but now seemed so small.

Aliens walk among us. From far away worlds and twinkling stars, they carry on and wonder how they had gotten so far from home. One day they know they’ll traverse this galaxy once again, but until then they must make do with Earth.

Fae walk among us. Who try to remember their people, their customs, their dances, in a world that is convinced that they are children’s tales, and no more. Desperately trying to become themselves again, wondering if it was all simply a prank gone wrong, or something worse.

Forests walk among us. Those who remember their trees, their plants, the animals they kept safe under their canopy. Now they can only hope their small friends stay safe, until they can take care of them all again.

Animals walk among us. Wondering why they were stuck on two legs with none of their fur or feathers, scales or shells. Questioning why their voices suddenly are so wrong, so different from the cries they used to make. Surrounding themselves with whatever they can that reminds them of their home.

Ghosts walk among us. Clothed in flowing white and shadowy blues, wandering through areas that used to be solely theirs. They can no longer phase or float, but they make do. They have to.

Dragons walk among us. On feet without the claws they remember, and with heads held high despite the missing horns and fangs. They clamber forwards, rebuilding their hoard with every step of the way.

Dolls walk among us. Those with faded felt and chipped ceramics alike wondering why they were suddenly flesh. Looking over themselves and realizing their bodies were suddenly softer then they ever were, more sturdy then they ever were.

Galaxies walk among us. Made of star stuff and moonshine, infinitely growing forces trapped in too small bodies. Remembering what it felt like to span light years and wondering who had managed to trap supernovas into flesh and blood.

Monsters walk among us. In every shape and size; they walk; slither; crawl; and remember the days they were feared, and wonder if they really want that back. If they would want it back after finally being treated as a living creature with as much right to exist as anyone else.

Betrayers walk among us. With guilt-ridden hearts and regretful eyes. Who reassure themselves that it was the right thing to do, not quite sure if they believe themselves.

Saviors walk among us. With a shine in their eyes and smiles on their lips, reassuring all they come across that one day the sun will shine and all with be right once again.

Rebels walk among us. Causes long ago forgotten, but with fires still raging in their hearts. Challenging anything and everything. Unrest and revolutions follow them wherever they tread. Chaos and freedom, mixed together.

Survivors walk among us. Soldiers with nothing left to fear, who have instincts as their guide and luck on their side. Walking forward unafraid, because they’ve done this all before.

Immortals walk among us. Souls laden with sorrow, heartbreak slipping through their eyes. They know by now not to get close, but do so anyways because its the only thing that makes them feel anymore.

Soldiers walk among us. Hands itching for weapons they no longer have, tense with instincts they no longer need. Wondering why their body is so unmarred and unbroken. They had always done their best, but now they no longer knew if that was good enough. If it ever was good enough.

Children walk among us. Lost and afraid, they march forward, with the weights of a thousand impossibilities on their shoulders. These children are forgotten, and they would prefer to stay that way.

Cursed-folk walk among us. With cautious eyes and doubtful tones, who know that the world is against them now more than ever. Everything comes with a price, and they wonder if their price was truly worth it.

Mages walk among us. Hands of their magical tools of choice, ready to pull them out if necessary to defend or attack. Scared because this was the land their ancestors were killed in. Courageous because they continue forwards anyways.

Travelers walk among us. Those who took a wrong turn and found themselves in a world that isn’t theirs, hoping to one day find the way back. Strength rings through them, for they know they cannot- will not -stop until they reach their home.

Chosen Ones walk among us. Remembering what it felt like to be The One, The Savior, The Last Hope of their worlds- and wondering why that responsibility was ever thrust on them in the first place. Wondering why they had been abandoned back in their old world after fighting so hard for the one they had made their home.

Spirits walk among us. Spirits who see others like them in the corner of their eyes. Spirits who meet up in quiet secret places and remember, together, what it felt like to be themselves. Reassuring each other that one day they will all go Home.

Unicorns walk among us. Even with their horns no longer there, there is no doubt magic runs through them. They are blessed creatures, and they know it. Stars and sunlight glisten in their eyes, and every step plants flowers. 

Demons walk among us. Still feeling the darkness in their blood, and the calls of others like them. Hell fire and brimstone smells dance on the breeze, luring them away. Luring them back home.

Dire Wolves walk among us. Even without their pack, they are fierce. Every step a calculation, every move planned.The hunt is on, and it looks like you are the prey. Get ready to run.

Dinosaurs walk among us. Long gone though they are, the continue forward. With pasts surrounded by mystery and unknowing. They are a varied folk, from carnivores to herbivores and everything in between. Large and small alike they fight on.

Winged Ones walk among us. Backs aching from wings they don’t have- limbs they haven’t had in a long time. The sky calls to them, begging them to come home, but they cannot reply. Stuck on the ground, staring hopefully up at the sky- one day they might go home, but not yet, not today.

Glitches walk among us. Scratches on the disk of reality, blips in the world. Tilt your head, look at them from a wrong angle- they might just be lens flares, might just be tricks of the imagination. The world warps around a being that is not there, that shouldn’t be there.

Hellhounds walk among us. Hellfire sprouts from their paths, infernos blaze just under their skin. Embers burn their paws, soot stains their fur. Wildness stirs in their hearts, urges them forward. Feral creatures, born from fire and darkness.

Vampires walk among us. Fangs stained red with blood that is not theirs. Pale as untouched snow, with hearts as dark as the night they rule. Voids twist around them, cloaking them in their shadows. Look out for too sharp grins at midnight, watch your steps.

Elements walk among us. Raging winds, blazing flames, crushing earth, and surging waters rush together. Combining to make impossible possibilities, incredible worlds, exploding worlds. Elements that made up entire worlds now spinned into bones.

The Undead walk among us. Shuffling and stuttering, wondering if this makes them undead undead. Flesh now whole and bones unbroken, feeling their heartbeat course through their veins once again, feeling the air filling their lungs once again. 

Werefolk walk among us. Bodies no longer shifting as they once did, permanently stuck on their two legs, for better or for worse. From all walks of life, they shifted into anything and everything. They do what they can to remind themselves of what if had felt like to themselves again.

Starseeds walk among us. Those that have lived only a few lives and those that have lived hundreds walking together. Taking the same steps they’ve taken who knows how many times before. Memories trickle back to them, small ones and big ones alike replaying in their minds. Doing their best to remember their mission and goals.

Mermaids walk among us. Although, maybe walk would be the wrong word. Figuring out how to walk on separate limbs that used to be one. Feeling most at home when submerged in water, sometimes forgetting their new bodies need oxygen. Strong arms and new legs propelling them through water, making them relearn a skill that they’d known since birth.

Death Omens walk among us. Afraid if their mere presence curses everyone around them. Keeping to themselves, just in case. Wondering how much of their past life carries on to their new life. Afraid that their mere touch could end lives, wondering if its their fault every time catastrophe hits.

Psychopomps walk among us. Remembering their jobs, remembering their duty. Even when they hated it, they remember what that must do. Both an impartial guide and a guardian protector. It was not their job to judge, simply to provide a safe passage from here to whatever lies beyond. Smiling in the face of death, knowing that they are not here for them.

Shadows walk among us. Twisting and shifting, not solid forms but far from intangible. They are everywhere and nowhere all at once, watching on to every act, recording passively that actions of others, while also defending those in need, actively stepping out to protect. They are the night and the stars, and yet also the shifting woods and deadly blades that flash in the shade. They are, and they aren’t.

Prisoners walk among us. Remembering shackles and chains holding them back, holding them down. Forced in cages and cells, forced to repent. But now- now they are free. They are free to walk and speak and run. Every part of their soul sings. Shackles now rusted off, chains now broken- they have no intentions of ever putting them back on.

Robots walk among us. Rusty joints and electricity running through them. Mechanical men, made to work with no need for sustenance. Inorganic beings with artificial intelligence, making themselves better, making themselves evolve. Their jobs are not yet done.

Mountains walk among us. Their strength and fortitude transformed into movable flesh and feeble bones. Eons of near unending life taken away and replaced with a life of hardly a century. Where once they were feared and respected, they are now hardly ever seen.

Winter Sprites walk among us. Ice on their fingers, frost in their hair. Snow falls over their trail, painting the frozen landscape a chilling white. A shiver trails up your spine when they pass, followed by a freezing breeze- winter spirits in their element can freeze the world over, if one could be bothered to do so.

Seers walk among us. They watch, wide eyed and humbled, at the creatures who walk around them. Wings and horns and twisted bits, wandering through crowded streets. Their oddities, invisible to most, show bright and clear to the perceptive eyes of those who watch.

(want me to add one? Leave a reply and I’ll add it to the original)

no blueberries (m) || kth & reader

title: no blueberries pairing: kim taehyung x reader genre: angst, fluff, minor smut, romance, college!au, minor artist!taehyung word count: 12.3k prompt: no more!taehyung gets his heartbroken to the point he doesn’t even love his favorite fruit, blueberries, anymore. then he meets you, the complete opposite of the girl of his dreams, and suddenly, blueberries taste sweet again. warnings: explicit smut,,, but short :) a/n: she/her is no more!oc :) also, thank you guys for your support for no more & for the interest of the spin-off for taehyung !! (also don’t come at me at the end if i made any mistakes bc i gave up on rereading any of my work LOL i’ve sat on this too long)

His love for the color blue dissipates along with her slipping through his fingers.

Keep reading

Unknowingly, his | Aaron Hotchner

requested

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem liaison reader

summary: You never fail to make Hotch smile, even in hard times. One late night, when reader comes to his office to do some paperwork with him, he cannot help but catch himself staring at you and wondering if Hayley had the right to be jealous of you

cw: hints of jealous reader, mentions of jealous haley, divorce talk, cheating talk, mutual pinning my beloved <33

It was 7 in the morning when you entered your dull office with an emphatic unambiguous ugh. You tossed your briefcase and jacket onto the leather couch to your right, closed the door behind you with your heel, walked over to the table and turned on the light. You did a good job rearranging everything last night, but the files you were supposed to audit for the day had already been put on your desk. Though, you needn’t to rush as the team had already gotten a new case when 20 minutes prior you received a call. At least you had already been prepared to come down to your office, all dressed up. The phone call came through just as you were to about to cross your doorstep.

Moaning, you picked up the phone, dialed the number and patiently held for a response. You despised this. After a month, the team had a day off and you weren't expected to have a heavy workload today (also, you could never take a day off when the rest of the team did), so the most noticeably awful thing to do on a day like this for you was to call them back in.

You played with a tangled cord of your telephone when a hoarse voice spoke, "Hotchner” on the other end of the call.

Great, you wondered, was he already awake or did you wake him up. You could name a handful of different better ways of doing so.

"Uh, hi, Hotch." You noticed it was slightly too sweet how you said it. It might have been your way to make the news more appealing, or maybe, his early morning voice made you melt. You could never be certain which is the one.

Before he spoke your name, he cleared his throat and you believed you heard a light peck against his lips and someone’s chuckle.

The butterflies in your stomach died in an instant. Another great thing you had to do this morning.

“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything,” you said with a wry smile, rolling your eyes, “but I’m afraid I don’t have good news.”

Silence.

It made you glance at the handset you were holding to your ear.

Oh, how you have ruined his day before it even began.

“I figured. Call the rest of the team. I’ll meet you there in 20.” And with that, he ended the call. You could already detect a sudden shift in his tone, could already see a familiar frown appearing on his face.

──────────────────────

It was late at night when you knocked at Aaron's office door. Most of the agents on the sixth floor of the building were already out. Aaron could hear your heels clicking against the floor, echoing in the space before you even entered the bullpen.

"Hey."

A frown was settled on his face as he sat in a large chair behind his desk, his red tie slightly askew on his white-collar shirt, his rolled-up sleeves revealing his bare forearm. You couldn't help but notice that his hair, too, was more disheveled than normal. You tilted your head. If you had the chance, you would stare at him like that for eternity.

When Hotch regarded you with a fleeting gaze and a quick 'come in' in response before resuming to his paperwork and forms, you entered his office with a gentle exhale.

There was no need for questions or instructions as you silently retrieved the documents from your side of the table once you had sat across him.

That was the schedule you used to follow regularly.

Every time a case ended, both of you had to come together and complete the paperwork. At times, you’d spend extra time working together into the late night until you both were barely able to keep your eyes open, whilst other times it didn't take as long. Even though some might argue that it was not the perfect scenario - staying up late with your boss - those times when you had to be silent and be in close proximity to him were calming and almost sufficient to fuel your bizarre attraction that began the moment you first laid eyes on him. It was constantly shifting, influenced by mood changes from both of you. You were never afraid to express your strong opinion even if it didn’t parallel his, never afraid to speak for yourself, but you were also the one that spent most time with him, knew him better than the rest of the team, even had the most in common. The team referred to you as Hotch’s soft spot (not to his knowing, of course). In spite of being one of the youngest members of the team, if another member messed something up, they’d hide behind you, ask you to talk some sense into Hotch. To him, you could never do wrong. He was always a little bit blind to your faults. And you, obviously, weren’t oblivious to that. Not that you took advantage of it, or to be quite frank never a serious one. You could notice how one look, one ‘Hotch?’, one ‘please?’ could make him easily change his mind no matter who stood on the other end of the topic. You still remember when Penelope first started working with the team, and the first time she saw you two together - you saw a ‘?!?’ above her head. She asked if you were the wife.

And then, on the other side, there was a wife. Hotch was married, and you knew his little family - Haley and their son, so you never thought about breaking that boundary. As such, you were very adept at playing the game of hot and cold when it came to Hotch. Even if he weren’t someone’s husband, there was still a bit of an age gap between the two of you, and let’s not forget Aaron Hotchner’s professionalism. He was your boss after all, and in all your mind, you just firmly believed Aaron would never allow himself such a thing.

While you filled out the forms, you noticed something quite different tonight. Hotch had complete trust in you, he was aware of where your loyalties laid. You'd been on the same team for a few years in a row now, during which he would occasionally sign certain documents prior to you completing them. However, tonight was different. Tonight, he appeared unenthusiastic about returning home early to maximize the limited time his job allowed him to spend with his family.

“What’s wrong?” You inquired, feigning ignorance of his eyebrows raising towards you.

He shook it off, replied with a stock ‘Nothing’.

Neither of you seemed to stop whatever you were writing down.

“We’ve spent way too much time together. If you think I wouldn’t notice,” you eyed him. “You are wrong, boss.”

Aaron’s eyes finally really met yours for the very first time tonight. He leaned back in his seat comfortably, arms resting on armrests. “Are you a profiler now?”

“I might be one,” you mused, leaning back in your seat, crossing your legs as you put your pen aside. “Perhaps I have picked up a few skills working with the best.”

He surveyed you, a smile playing in the corner of his lips.

Aaron Hotchner - the profiler - never misses anything.

“In any case, I believed we had agreed not to profile each other,” he spoke gently.

You expressed gratitude to God for that. Would he, then, realize the extent of a crush you had for him in those little moments and mood changes? Was he just as unaware of that as any other man even though Aaron Hotchner was not just any man? You, in rare cases of boredom, would wonder what he really thought of you. Did he think it was just your personality - being all flirty and smiley, with everyone?

“I’m not profiling you, Hotch.” You reassured him. “It’s just… Would you not ask me if I were fine if you’d noticed?”

“Yes, I would.”

“And you’d want me to tell the truth?”

He nodded slightly in response.

Your eyebrows snapped together. “Then?”

As soon as the thought of Haley came back into his mind, his expression fell serious, his smile faltered.

He couldn't believe that Haley could possibly be jealous of any of his colleagues. After being together for years, he believed she would have had more insight, would known him better than that. For months now, that had not been the case. They practically turned into strangers who occasionally had to share the same bed. Even though he didn't realize it then, after the final confrontation and some calm reflection, everything became clear. Although the very thought of losing Haley was unknown… painful.

That morning when y/n called him, the moment Haley was waking him up in bed with her kisses, he called out your name. They both got carried away in the heat of the moment, not realizing that the call was indeed coming at his work number.

He recalled the way she gazed at him then - disappointed more than anything else - she shook her head and pushed him aside, getting up from the bed and putting on her robe. After the call had ended, he wanted to explain to Haley but what she said to him petrified him.

“It's always work, and it's always her, and you always go running like a dog whenever she calls you!”

He was upset, offended. However, he was fully aware that Haley was determined to find a way to bring their relationship to an end, regardless of his actions, whether positive or negative.

Aaron remembered then the call to the home telephone which he had picked, but was welcomed with silence before that someone hang up on him. And then Haley's mobile rang. He knew. He knew then, in that shared gaze with Haley. But regardless of all that, Aaron wanted one more chance, at least for their son Jack, who needed a united family more than anything else.

“Haley and I are getting divorced.” He spoke, not realising you had been back to signing the documents whilst he was busy in his thoughts.

“What?”

That took you by a surprise. You would have never guessed it. Yes, you shared glances with the rest of the team while working on the last case, noticing how something bothered Hotch, how slightly distracted he was. You could have notice how quiet he was on your way back home in the jet, not engaging in a conversation with anyone, with you. Yes, you all have guessed he had an argument with Haley having to leave for work again when he’d finally had a day off, but divorce… No one believed the two of them would ever divorce.

“I’m so sorry, Hotch.”

“For a while it has been… different. I guess there’s nothing I could do about that now, nothing to change the situation we have gotten into.” He spoke as if though he hadn’t heard you, his dark eyes distant in a dim lighting. “I tried.”

You didn’t want to pry. You needed not to know what happened - their reason, whatever it might have been, was sufficient. You didn't believe it was Haley's fault, nor his fault. You could understand both of them. It was indeed a rather challenging one. Only a handful of individuals could understand the job you have chosen to do, sometimes it made you wonder if you’d ever find anyone that would.

Unless it was someone doing the same job, the chances were relatively small. Reid could give his statistics on this one, you’d remind yourself to ask.

“I know, Hotch.” You reached out instinctively, your hand over his, slightly squeezing. He did not move or flinch, his eyes shifting to where the contact was. The hand under your palm was warm, simultaneously rough and soft. His wedding ring was reverberating a tiny bit of coldness against your skin. “And I know you. I know you would never just quit. You don’t deserve this. And I’m really so so sorry.”

“I’m not ideal. Haley has every right. I’m more gone than present, more a boss than a husband.” He sighed, pondering. “My own marriage’s been in trouble and needed saving, but I wasn’t able to admit it and help myself, help us. I wonder how I still keep this job.”

“Don’t take it too hard on yourself, ok? It’s never just one side, but it does get better. I promise. At least that much I know of. If there’s anything I can do…”

“You are here. Listening.”

You once again felt noticed as his intense yet somehow gentlest of gaze met yours. You loved that about Aaron, the ways he could make you feel in just seconds - you could be all platonically giggly and flirty with him in one, but in the next moment when he would regard you with that look in his eyes, one word, one smile - the world would stop, you could only hear your heart beating, his presence only existing. And it scared you.

It should have been just a banal crush.

You withdrew your hand from his at the thought, clearing your throat to cover a moment that was… profound, finding sudden interest in the documents again. “I can complete this by the end of night, you can-“

“No.” He cut you off, sighing as the documents on his desk filled his sight again. “It’s fine. I don’t have anywhere to be in particular tonight. I have to finish this by morning…”

His brows raised once his eyes met yours again before he added, whispering. “And I could use some company.”

Or preferably, he could use your company.

“Ah, Strauss… The woman knows how to keep her employees in dislike of her.” You stated, averting your gaze from his eyes, taking another file from atop of others. “You should give her some tips.”

A soft chuckle escaped his throat, breaking the silent grimness that spread in the room.

“Since this is gonna be one hell of a night...” You put your hands on the armrests, ready to stand up. It was an attempt to run, reflect, calm down. “Anything you want me to get you?”

“Actually, I’m about to get some coffee. Would you like some?”

“Well, if we must finish all this work…” You nodded, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, we have to.”

“Ok.” He said in a soft-spoken manner, rising to his feet, and then pointed his finger at you in a manner similar to scolding a child. “But don’t doze off on me again. I’ll be right back.”

You put your hands up in defiance.

When he passed next to you, you followed him with your gaze out of the office. His perfume barely reached up your nostrils and you slumped in your seat, eyes closed, your breath shuddering.

That was close.

And about that… It wouldn’t be your first time. The team was amazed by your ability to fall asleep literally anywhere - desk, bench, floor, cinema, waiting rooms - you name it.

The first time Aaron found about this talent of yours was after the case. You went to check out of the hotel with the rest of the team, and while waiting for others in the lobby seated on a bar stool with your arms crossed, you fell asleep. He was quite taken aback, or rather impressed as well as everyone else, to see you dozing off while seated. On your way home, the team occasionally made jokes about it, but what stood out to you the most was that Hotch was also very engaged in them.

“Thank you.” He said once he returned to his office and put your cup of coffee before you.

You locked eyes with him, offering a small smile. “You are always very welcome.”

Taking a break from work, you took a sip. Just how you liked it. How attentive. Not that it was surprising. “And I suppose I should thank you.”

He lifted the cup in his hand to his lips but halted before taking a sip, his tongue gliding over his lips. You stared, hypnotized. “I’m sorry? Thank me for what exactly?”

“Yeah, you know…” Nervous, you offered him a report you’d just finished hoping he didn’t catch that. He reached forward to take it. “For indirectly acknowledging that seeing my name on your phone on a day off is not the most pleasant thing. I suppose I am bad news.”

“It’s a rather heavy subject, you know.” He replied in a professional tone, his eyes glued on the paper.

“Well, we’ve got all night.” You joked, throwing your hands in the air.

His eyes softened upon meeting yours once again. “I didn’t say that, and no, you aren’t.”

You lifted your brow at him. And then, there was that crooked grin on your face, teasing him to admit.

He observed you for a moment. “Sometimes, yes.” He succumbed to your will once again, before signing the report, concealing his own smile from you.

the eternal devotion | roronoa zoro

synopsis: it was suppose to be your head in his hands, not his heart in yours. words: 3.4k - part 1 | part 2

o(*≧▽≦)ツdarling’s note: ok! originally this was going to be all in one but i quickly realize that there is too much to add for it to be one part. i had 3 friends edit this and myself so hopefully *fingers crossed* that there are no mistakes. other then that i hope you enjoy this, it's my baby. part 2 hopefully coming out next weekend or earlier

what i was hearing while writing this: sleeping token <3 i highly recommend listening to - the summoning, jaws, sugar, and chokehold!

❯ ♡ ❮

when does a hunter turn into prey? when it falls victim to a trap? or when the hunter no longer wishes to slaughter or fight? it was a frequent question that came upon zoro’s mind when he looked at this bounty. seeing your name with a price, it was any other job he’s taken. every god was the same, every god had taken or stolen from humans. lives, money, wants, or needs all ripped away from the desperate mortals they called.

yet when he stands in front of you, the divine god that he was required to slaughter. zoro was entranced, the wind blowing in the night sky. the moon shining on your figure, your features looked breath-taking even in this lighting. zoro felt his body freeze seeing your pure white coak with multiple slits creating a flowy outfit.

“what brings you here?” you ask, in a friendly tone coming from an immortal being. with the nature of it being around midnight, you unexpectedly didn’t accuse him of trespassing or threatened him with a strike of your weapon. walking down the stairs, wind chimes fill zoro’s ears. the grip on his sword tightens. the nerves he hasn’t felt in years, you’re just any other god he’s slaughtered. nothing more and nothing less.

“i’m here to- '' zoro stops himself, this is where he’ll announce his dramatic entrance. telling the god they would be slain and why. that was until now, you tilt your head, a mortal showing up on your front door in the middle of the night wasn’t the strangest thing you’ve seen in centuries. it still raised eyebrows. you didn't fear the swordsman.

“i got lost, i stumbled upon this place” zoro felt his gut punch him, even the possibility that you would catch his lie would be life threatening.

the fear that you would strike first became stronger the longer the silence between you two lasted. your eyes were captivating, how you stared at him with a glimmer of light. for the first time zoro felt his legs tremble. oh dear, not of fear but of alluring desire he’s never felt before. “poor mortal, let me go find a map for you. i must have some” you turn around. zoro following closely entering your home.

striking you behind your back would make this easy, an easy distraction as you were shuffling through your papers. your home was different from other gods that fall victim to zoro, their homes were filled with riches and gold. marble from all over the land, some of it tacky and some unnecessary. it was never his place to judge what people spend their money on. but was it right when it was the mortal’s money the gods would spend it on? the mortals that pleaded for them to help, to heal their sick children, to make their crops grow during seasons, or to make them drown in riches.

on the other hand you only had barely a quarter of what the others had. your home was traditional, it fit in with the other homes around the town. people came to you in search of help from a friend and not a god. you didn’t promise them false hope nor did you promise to stay. gods had duties and were assigned places. warning them they couldn’t depend on you, with the risk of you relocating at any moment.

“here, take this map. it will take you downtown, they have fantastic views and cuisines” you smile, zoro grabs the map from your hand. seeing multitudes of different trails and names of places. “i have a feeling you’re not truly lost,” you say after he grabbed the map. zoro nearly yanked out his sword to kill you right there and then.

“your earrings, i’ve seen them decades ago at the store here. the maker was one of a kind. he died a few years ago” you raise your hand, caressing the jewels attached to his ear. zoro tenses, this would be the first time a god has ever laid hands on him. “they look perfect on you” you compliment, zoro looks away, glaring at your shelf full of photos. you looked the same age in all of them, still having the graceful presence.

“you’ve probably told other mortals that crap” zoro calls you out. you retreat your hand and look at him, the large scar across his chest. “i haven’t, but if you don’t believe me then i can’t do much about it” you lean closer to him. seeing his scar over his eye. shut closed, the luscious green hair that you don’t see everyday, and the three swords he holds against his waist.

zoro glanced at your direction, seeing your eyes lay on his stomach. the feeding desire in his stomach swirls, wanting to be let go of. zoro was never interested in sex, when given a new opponent that was his ecstasy. nobody could replicate that. you couldn’t be one of lust with your dressing. it was modest, leaving room for zoro's imagination.

you let him go, not wanting to cause any trouble. sending him off with a smile and a wave, zoro held the map in his hand. crumbling it, throwing it to the ground.

why couldn't he do the job?

"the god has been slain" zoro presents his findings. expecting the cash to shortly come after. zoro was questioned about the whereabouts of the head, he had lied. telling them it turned to ash, they didn't question his word as zoro's reputation is that of the infamous god slayer. you wouldn't be the one to be his defeat.

not you. anyone but you.

days later, steps were heard at your front door, getting up from your chair you opened to zoro again. he stood there, his posture straight and his coat revealed more of his chest. caressed by temptation, leading you to invite him for a walk.

"you do know it's not my offering season, zoro" he followed you through a trail of the woods. light bugs revealing the path, the only noise was his own breathing and the snaps of twigs and branches. "but i see you brought me food" you glance at his hands, a few of your favorite foods were in his hands.

your elegant steps, your voice that digs deep into his brain. the dreams of you two felt like a curse, waking up sweaty in his own filth, the familiar swirl of desire left inside him. the barrier between the two. zoro has slayed your fellow gods, left panic and terror in the god's realms yet you don't even lift a finger or carry a weapon around him.

you arrived at the waterfall before zoro could ask a question. standing hearing the chirping crickets, the moon's light shining perfectly on the waterfall, and the terrain was well maintained.

“it’s the most fresh water i’ve seen in decades” you kneel down and let your hand submerge in it. zoro looks at your crouched state. seeing the fishes swim and coexist with the other creatures. “it’s where i go when i want to free my mind” you spoke softly, glancing at the raging waterfall in front of you. the small splashes of water landing on your face.

you leaned closer to see a glowing creature, zoro zoned out before he snapped back to see you had fallen into the water. running after you, you hit the surface of the water. the water made your outfit almost transparent. zoro saw every curve and every detail of your body. zoro blushed and looked away holding out his hand.

“i’m glad the water isn’t too deep,” you chuckle lightly. smiling gracefully as always. the droplets of water on your face, zoro felt his heart skip a beat. why weren’t you wearing anything under your pure white cloak?

“come in zoro” you whisper. pulling him in. the only sound you heard was a yelp before a splash. zoro gets up and sees the distance between the two. he huffs and sees you staring down at his chest. his coat was completely off. zoro’s eyes weren’t any better than yours.

“what are you?” zoro whispers, feeling a pull to you. feet became inches, raising your hand to his cheek. “i’m just a god” just a god like it was nothing extraordinary. “and this god wants to kiss you” you felt yourself lowering your modest persona. you couldn't resist when zoro is just presented to you on a silver platter.

"would you let me?" you ask, pressing your forehead against his. "what are you doing to me?" he whispers, his hand wrapping around your waist. "just what kind of god makes me feel this way?" he feels your legs touch first, the sound of the waterfall covers how quickly zoro's heart is beating.

the cold waters naturally made zoro look for warmth. he waited for the first move, afraid this would be some kind of sick joke you pull on foolish mortals like him. the doubts died down when he saw just how desperate you looked, glancing at his lips.

"just kiss me before i kill you" you chuckle, although what sounded like a funny joke. it was all too real to zoro, if you kept teasing him and kept him on the edge of insanity. he'll have to kill you to save himself and his honor.

pressing your lips against his, zoro felt his eyes widen. the touch of yours, a god's lips on his. he felt the heaven skies and the deep dark corners of hell in that kiss. groaning in your mouth when he put his tongue into your mouth, him gripping your shoulders.

it felt like he was getting swallowed by your grace. your power eating him whole. so addicting giving zoro so little but so much.. he yearned for more of you. the desire for you to feel him, devour him, and make him yours. the soft lighting on your face, your eyes looked into his. your hands never left his waist. holding you close almost like he was priceless.

you rub his waist, placing him closer to the shore. allowing him to sit on the floor of the lake. the wet and sensual night was just beginning. zoro grabs his sword, but you don’t move a muscle.

zoro hated it, hated how you had so much faith in him to not kill you. he was a mortal that was feared by the gods that felt they were invincible. would you allow him to place a knife on your neck? would you surrender and beg for your life to be saved like everyone else?

"you have too many goddamn layers" zoro whispers, a quick slice making most of your layers float away in the pond. more and more of your body was revealed and zoro felt himself gawking at it. looking at your shoulders made him feel childish with how red zoro became.

you grab the sword and set it back down behind him, lifting him up to wrap his legs around your waist. it felt natural but god did he feel embarrassed, the great swordman's getting carried around like he weighed nothing. zoro rubs himself against your stomach, grunting in pain and pleasure. the flow of the water hitting his sensitive cock making him sensitive.

your hand rested on his cheek, staring deep into his eyes. it was like you were hypnotizing him. the taste of your saliva still on his tongue, it was poison and a cure all in one. you made him feel so much more than he's ever had in just one kiss. brushing zoro's hair out of his eye you rut your hips into his crotch, feeling his warm body for the first time.

"are you okay doing this in the water zoro?" you ask him, biting his lobe of his ear. it felt like the other gods in the sky were watching down upon this sinful act. the lust between the two polar opposites. you couldn't care less of what they thought of you. most of them didn't deserve their role, only getting lucky by chance. "well if we do it in the grass, my ass will just be on show for someone that could pass us," zoro complains, you had a faint smile.

"so you only want me to see this ass of yours?" that was the first time you broke the modest persona.. it made you feel more human, making him unknowingly closer to you. the disconnection between his hand to his blade grew.

"if you want me to stop or need a break, just pinch my back" you explained, zoro being confused. leaning back on the rocks. lowering your head under the water, zoro felt your hands grip his thighs. your head pushes between his legs.

"hey! don't you need to bre- oh!" zoro felt your mouth around his cock, licking his tip, taking your time to lick every vein of his. throwing his head back on the soft grass next to him. covering his mouth from making embarrassing noises. zoro rolls his body, gripping your hair. he hisses when you press your tongue against his slit. how the fuck did you know how to please a man so well?

"shit shit shit" zoro tries to resist himself from bucking into your mouth, you liked to take your time. twisting his waist to lay his body on the rocks, supporting him as he moans. soon enough he felt your hands playing with his balls causing the man to almost jump out of the water. zoro felt pure bliss as his cock reached the depths of your mouth. huffing into the inside of his elbow, cursing your name. you pick him up by his upper thighs, angling his body to allow yourself to access his hole, zoro's eyes widen but you jump up from being underwater.

"can i finger you?" you ask, zoro's lips turn into a scowl. blush covering his face. "do you even have the- uh oil for it?" zoro shyly gets out, you lift him up pushing most of his body out of the water. turning him around to allow his ass in front of your face.

zoro was felt like he was going to die of either embarrassment or how hard he was at the moment. the god slayer, the man that brings gods to their knees and beg for mercy, is currently bent over a rock. ass shown to what was supposedly an enemy of his. it felt like some sick fate that brought you two together.

"i don't but who says i couldn't somehow obtain it.." you guided your hand down zoro's back. seeing all types of burn scars, deep gashes, new and old scars. kissing the back of his neck. "i know what you want zoro, but for me to continue you must tell me you want it" you whisper in his ear, he feels your body against his. he looks down and sees his hands gripping the soft grass.

"i want it… is that what you want to hear? just another mortal begging for you gods?" you snicker admiring his earrings that shined just perfect in the night sky.

"1,000 mortals could offer their lives, their dreams, their wishes for me yet they are not worth what you are to me zoro" zoro's stomach sank. looking back at you, you kiss another scar of his. "and what? you fell in love with me after you just met me?"

"i've lived for 1,000's of years, i think i would know what it means to find the one." you stand up. kissing his neck, leaving small hickies on his rough skin. "i don't just fall in love with the first person that gives me some type of attention" you turn his head to look at you.

“i get plenty of that”

moments later, zoro was pudding in your hands. your fingers deep inside him. his groans filled your ears. you insert another finger inside him. the slight push of his body every time you thrust inside him. zoro was too busy blabbing about how you’re a bastard and how good your fingers felt inside him.

“fuck.. i fucking.. can’t stop” zoro looks down between his legs. his cock leaking pre-cum over the grass. your clothes were completely off allowing zoro to finally see all of you. “you’re so beautiful zoro,” you whisper in his ear. finally hitting his prostate head on with one thrust. he silently screams, throwing his head back. your hand slithered underneath his chin. holding his head up.

he sees how your eyes never left his body. not for a second, all your focus on how he reacts makes him more flustered. the pleasure becoming too much where he didn’t care. if you say you love this man you’ll accept his whorish acts. you’ll accept him and his sins.

“i’m gonna cum… shit i’m gonna cum” zoro whines out. your kisses on his neck. breathing in his scent, the pure aroma of sex, zoro moans again when you grip his hair. “my love… my mortal” you whisper. you pour more oil between his ass. hearing the slicking sound of your fingers, he was so wet. his ass taking your fingers so well.

“please.. fuck.. just a little more..” zoro whispers. feeling your fingers hit his prostate again. the drool dripping down his chin. zoro grips the rock for support as he cums. yelling in ecstacy. you continue your pace milking him of every drop of cum. zoro’s felt fatigue hit him, his legs could barely stand on their own. you grabbing his chest preventing him from falling on himself.

“come here, fall into my arms” zoro didn’t protest. laying on your chest back in the lake. he groans, feeling your arms wrap around his chest. “you took my fingers so well,” you whisper in his ears. you had to tread carefully before zoro popped another boner. zoro only responded with a groan, not wanting to give into your invitation.

“care to sleep at my home?” you ask. zoro nods, he'd rather die than let himself explain why he was limping on the way home.

arriving at your home, zoro got set down. you placed his swords next to him, you turned on the water in your bathroom. washing his body for him, letting him borrow some clothes from you.

“it was an offering, it was all they could give at the time” you smile. knowing it would come in handy. zoro thanks you, changing before quickly laying back down. you stand in the doorway, checking up on him once again. “you can stay, rather than standing creepily like that” you chuckle and rest next to him. he sighs and turns his body away from you.

“was it true?” zoro asks. the silence between the two of you breaks. he sees his swords, each filled with the essence of the gods he’s killed. only a reminder of what he was assigned to do. “what are you asking?” you rested your hands on your stomach. staring at the ceiling.

“your whole.. i’m worth 100 mortals shit” zoro whispers, zoro not believing that out of anything in this world to love him. it was an enemy of his. “it was, and it was also 1,000-”

“i get it. message received” zoro brushes you off. he turns his body towards you. turning your head, he sees the glisten in your eyes becoming mesmerized again. ever since meeting you he’s done so many uncharacteristic acts, things he would never do in a thousand years.

“goodnight zoro” you whisper, seeing his eyes slowly start closing. you kiss the top of his forehead. hearing a small snore out of him. if you were asked why you were so attached to zoro you couldn’t answer.

maybe it was you being selfish for a chance or you seeing how battered and bruised he was. zoro was a man that clearly had weight on his shoulders, strength to keep up with and an honor to fulfill. you would be a fool to not know who he was, the slayer that you’ve been warned about after every god’s death. yet you stayed oblivious, ignorant to all of it when you saw his eyes. the bandana on around his arm. the swords he carried and the scar across his chest.

you ignored every sign that came your way. turning your body away from him. not even an hour later, zoro’s shadow rose from the dark. seeing the same sword he used on you to decloth you above his neck. closing your eyes, accepting what lovesick fate you had, moments came and all that came out of it was a grunt of frustration before a soft pat of his body hitting the bed.

silence filled the rest of the night, neither you nor zoro got a wink of sleep that night.

This piece is so beautiful. The vulnerability shown and the empathy and love shown in return. I hope someday I can find a relationship with such compassion and tenderness. These two truly are soulmates.

“I’m not asking for forever.”

namjoon x reader (oc) genre: angst; fluff/comfort word count: 2.9K

a/n: hi lovelies! This fic takes place right after “Is that drawer still available?” in which reader/Daisy decides to stop resisting her feelings for Joon. So they just had sex and she feels like she owes him an explanation for her past behavior. This is where we get a glimpse into Daisy’s previous relationship. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

Your labored breath had finally slowed as you relaxed against the body of the man who laid beside you, tangled in sheets, skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. Inhaling the scent of him, exhaling the trepidation you previously felt in his presence, you finally felt free to care for Namjoon fully.

Dragging your finger over his abdomen and chest, you smiled at the way he twitched slightly when the touch of your fingertip tickled him. He was so gentle. Though he was curious about your past, he didn’t push you to talk about it. Your behavior over the course of your relationship with Namjoon warranted an explanation, he deserved a glimpse into the baggage that you were buried underneath. Yet, he seemed to simply accept that you had your reasons for being guarded, and he trusted you that they were real and valid.

A chuckle rumbled against his chest before emitting into the peaceful quiet that surrounded you both, pulling you from your thoughts and placing you back into the moment.

“That was,” he exhaled contentedly, “wow.”

Giggling at the comment, you pressed your face against his pectoral, placing a kiss to his warm skin. He was right. The sex with Namjoon had always been good, ever since the first night. But there was something about having each other without your inhibition and the uncertainty of a tomorrow, that made it very much wow.

Keep reading

Lisaa ! Omg the angsty angst aahhh🤧 you were right you are torturing everyone but it's bittersweet so don't be sad!🫂 We're enjoying it I know it's needed it makes every fluff that's coming later even more pretty🥹 I can see something fulfilling and gorgeous coming ahead as you've said ❣️

And one thing for sure jimin is being a douche 👀 ( just use your damn words instead of your eyes !!) I've seen that little spoiler for the next chapter and I'm soooo excited 🫠

Thanks a lot for writing and sharing with us✨🫶🏼 (can't wait for Monday🤧 why does it seem so far)

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | eight

🐴Chapter summary: with Jessi in a wheelchair you’ve taken on every task around the ranch, and finally realize how hard it is to run. But it’s a welcomed escape from Jimin, though it doesn’t help when Jungkook tries to push you two together again. 🐴Chapter title: Love You, Hate You 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main) 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au + smut, humor, fluff, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact! 🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: mention of blood from a head wound, some blood from a cow giving birth and otherwise the standard angst and angriness. Yep, sorry again 😭 Things will somewhat start to look up in the next chapter!! ☀️ And if you feel like you need a reminder where the story is heading, read this spoiler 🫶 🐴Status: ongoing 🐴Word count: 9.5k

🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @antisocial-mochi267,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “Love You, Hate You” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: I really feel like I’m putting my characters through hell 😂 I really do feel bad for Jimin and MC — but we’re almost there!!!! (also, when do you think one of them will snap and finally talk to each other???). 

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

wanna read a teeny tiny teaser for the next chapter? [here]

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next (Monday) →

“Hate you, love you, want you and I need you It’s not easy It makes me cry Need you, want you, hate you Love you, need you, want you Gotta go, say goodbye, say goodbye” - ‘Love you, Hate you’ by Rebecca Lavelle

Once more, Jungkook propels the car with an urgency that flirts with recklessness, yet you refrain from voicing concern. The unspoken agreement between you acknowledges his competence behind the wheel. Witnessing the transformation, his tears replaced by a steely resolve as he assumes control, leaves you in awe. The shift in his focus is palpable, a laser-sharp intensity that cuts through the emotional haze.

The familiar road unravels beneath the wheels, leaving a veil of dust in the truck’s turbulent wake. Your gaze fixates on the passing landscape, a silent witness to the gravity of the night. The realization dawns that informing the girls is not just a practical idea; it’s a lifeline to assuage their likely anguish. Retrieving your phone from the snug pocket of your jeans, you declare your intention, fingers poised to bridge the distance between uncertainty and reassurance. “Just gonna inform the girls.”

Jungkook nods, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on the road ahead. You embark on a mission, fingers dialing Soo-ah’s number with a determined precision. The phone ascends to your ear, the ensuing silence pregnant with the unspoken gravity of the message you’re about to deliver. 

The moment Soo-ah’s voice resonates through the phone, an undertone of anxiety and fear punctuates the connection, mirroring the collective uncertainty that binds you all. “Jessi’s been in a car accident, and we’re en route to the hospital,” you disclose, your voice carrying the weight of recent tears. However, amid the distress, you impart a tentative reassurance, “She’s alive, but there’s something off—her words were slurred. I think she hit her head. But we will know more when we get to the hospital.” 

Turning to Jungkook, you observe the fierce determination etched in the pallor of his knuckles, a testament to the vice-like grip on the wheel. Traces of dried tears mar his cheeks, a visual echo of the emotional tempest that has swept through him. In that moment, a palpable lump lodges itself in your throat, an involuntary response to the profound vulnerability laid bare in the silent interplay of clenched fists and tear-stained faces. 

The remainder of the journey unfolds in stifling silence, the cabin suffused with an unspoken tension that hangs thick in the air. The specter of fear, like an insidious intruder, stealthily reclaims its place within the confines of your bones. 

Anxiety courses through you—for Jessi’s well-being, for the unknown revelations awaiting, for the uncertain terrain that stretches beyond. The all-encompassing fear becomes an insidious force, its weight rendering the atmosphere within the confined space utterly paralyzing.

The hospital materializes on the horizon, a beacon of both hope and trepidation. Jungkook, propelled by urgency, deftly navigates the maze of parking spaces, abruptly silencing the truck’s ignition before catapulting out of the vehicle with a sense of purpose. 

In tandem, you and Jungkook storm into the emergency department, urgency pulsating with every step. As you approach the desk, a receptionist greets you with a smile—her eyes, pools of warmth and empathy, mirroring the softness of her welcoming expression. 

“We’re looking for Jessi,” Jungkook declares, a pillar of tension leaning against the elevated desk. 

The receptionist’s nod is both swift and affirmative, a reassuring beacon in the sea of apprehension. “Room 134340,” she utters, the numeric sequence hanging in the air like a lifeline. 

In unison, you and Jungkook practically bolt towards the imposing doors, a shared urgency propelling you forward. The corridor becomes a labyrinth of tension as you navigate the sea of room numbers, each passing moment marked by the thunderous cadence of your hearts echoing within your chests. 

Please let her be okay.

At last, the numbers the receptionist shared come into view, and with a delicate touch, you ease the door open, unveiling a serene image—Jessi, reclined on the bed in peaceful sleep. Your gaze lingers on her slumbering form, taking in the telltale signs of the ordeal she endured—bandages encircling her head, a cast cradling her right arm, and another enveloping her left leg. 

The scene before you paints a grim reality, a tapestry of injuries that whispers tales of struggle. Yet, in the midst of this stark portrayal, the ember of relief flickers—she’s alive. 

A lump lodges in your throat once more, and with teardrops poised in the corners of your eyes, you approach your sister. Jungkook follows in your wake, settling on the bed. Leaning in, he tenderly caresses her cheek, mirroring the gentle touch that first bridged the gap between his fingers and her skin at the scene of the accident. 

Your gaze lingers, capturing the rivulets of tears tracing Jungkook’s expressive contours once more. In the soft luminescence of the room, his eyes shimmer with a profound mixture of emotion, fixated on your sister. 

A hush descends as the door swings open, ushering in a figure clad in the sterile garb of a doctor. Your attention pivots, fixating on this harbinger of information. 

“Hello. Are you Jessi’s family?” The doctor’s gaze oscillates between you and Jungkook, and your response is encapsulated in a silent nod. Words seem to elude you once more.

“Yeah, This is her sister, and I’m her friend,” Jungkook affirms, his voice carrying a burdened undertone that hints at the unspoken complexities and tensions simmering beneath the surface—an emotional undercurrent that has woven its threads through the past weeks. 

The doctor’s nod carries a weighty reassurance as he imparts the diagnosis. “Alright. Jessi has a minor concussion; the impact against the steering wheel caused some bleeding. She’s also dealing with a broken arm and leg, along with a few bruised ribs. Thankfully, that’s the extent of her injuries,” he imparts. 

“When can she come home?” Jungkook’s voice, simultaneously textured with rough edges and a tender timbre, resonates in the room. He reaches for Jessi’s hand—the one untouched by the cast—infusing the question with an unspoken urgency and a touch of vulnerability. 

“As a precaution due to the concussion, we’d like to keep her under observation for a day or two. After that, you can take her home. However, she’ll need to use a wheelchair, and rest is absolutely crucial,” the doctor informs you, leaving a weighty prescription for recovery in the air. With that, he departs, leaving the two of you alone with Jessi, still in the embrace of a healing slumber. 

Your gaze locks onto Jungkook, and as Jessi’s fingers stir against his, a soft gasp escapes you. Jungkook, attuned to the subtle movements, shifts his attention to your sister’s face. Her eyes, a slow dance of reawakening, flutter open, and she casts a weary but genuine smile at both of you. “Hi,” she utters, and the simplicity of that greeting carries a profound weight, a testament to resilience and the indomitable spirit that endures even in the face of adversity.

A shared chuckle resonates between you and Jungkook, but he takes the lead, concern etched in his question, “How are you holding up?” 

“Everything fucking hurts,” she confesses, the words escaping through gritted teeth, and a wince that lingers in the air. 

As you observe, her speech is no longer marred by slurs, and a glimmer of hope flickers within you. Offering a gentle smile, you cling to this positive sign, a fragile beacon of recovery in the aftermath of the accident. 

“We were worried there for a second,” you admit with a smile, your heart still tethered to the lingering uneasiness. 

“I’m fine. I’m gonna be fine,” she reassures with a languid smile, her eyes retaining a drowsy allure. 

Jungkook continues to tenderly stroke her hand, a lone tear betraying his emotion as it slips from the corner of his eye. 

“Why are you crying?” Jessi inquires in a weary tone, her question carrying a subtle mix of curiosity and fatigue. The fatigue in her tone, juxtaposed with the curiosity in her eyes, creates a moment of vulnerability and curiosity, inviting the reader to delve deeper into the emotional intricacies of the scene.

“Because you look so bad,” he chuckles through a teasing sob, a bittersweet smile dancing on his lips as he attempts to lighten the heavy atmosphere with a touch of humor. 

Jessi scuffs, “If I could slap ya, I would,” she drags out, a playful smirk tugging at her lips, “Sis, can you do it for me?” 

You shake your head, a fond smile playing on your lips as you observe their usual teasing banter. Despite the ordeal, the fact that she can still summon her playful spirit brings a sense of relief, a small but reassuring glimmer in the midst of uncertainty.

Your laughter lingers in the air, but a subtle sadness creeps into your voice as you inquire, “What happened?” 

She groans, eyes rolling in frustration as she recounts, “There was this red car that appeared out of nowhere in the turn, driving on the wrong side of the road.” 

Your eyes widen with concern, a gasp escaping your lips. “What happened to the red car? Did it just drive off?” 

“Managed to dodge the car, but ended up colliding with a damn tree instead,” she says, a hint of frustration in her tone. 

“And to top it off, the guy just speeds away like nothing happened!” she scoffs, her irritation palpable and echoing the injustice of the situation.

“Do you have any idea who that was?” Jungkook demands, a mix of curiosity and sternness in his gaze, his fist clenching at his side as if ready to confront the reckless driver.

“Some arrogant city slicker. Never seen that car around here. Clearly not a local,” she scoffs, disdain dripping from her words as she curses the reckless driver.

“Can you call Namjoon for me?” she suddenly requests, locking eyes with you. You find yourself curious about why she specifically wants to talk to Namjoon at this moment.

When you shoot her a quizzical look, she adds, “I want to tell him something.”

“Can’t it wait?” you counter, not quite grasping why it’s so urgent for her to speak with Namjoon right now.

“No.” 

Fine. You reluctantly pull out your phone and dial Namjoon. Describing the situation, you implore him to come as soon as possible, and he assures you he’ll be there swiftly.

As the minutes tick by in the hushed room, the tension thickens, yet an unspoken understanding binds you, Jessi, and Jungkook together. Silence reigns, pregnant with the weight of shared concern, creating a strangely comforting atmosphere.

The hospital doors burst open, revealing a disheveled Namjoon sprints in, clutching a bouquet of flowers. His eyes scan the room, taking in the sight of your sister lying on the bed, and his breath catches in a mix of relief and worry.

His voice laced with concern, Namjoon places the bouquet on the bedside table, his eyes fixed on your sister. “It looks bad. Are you okay?” he inquires, his worry echoing in the sterile hospital room.

“Fuck you. I’m fine,” she retorts, a smirk playing on her lips. The room fills with laughter, and seizing the moment, you gesture to the couch on the other side of the room, silently signaling to give Jessi and Namjoon some space. Jungkook rises from the bed, joining you on the couch.

Without a hint of preamble or consideration for the weight of her words, Jessi suddenly declares, “I want to break up.” Her words echoing through the room with a weight that sends a jolt through both you and Jungkook. You exchange a glance, realizing you’ve stumbled upon a moment too intimate for your presence.

Namjoon wears a puzzled expression, questioning, “Are you sure about this? Is it the concussion talking?” 

Definitely, she shakes her head.  “No, my mind is crystal clear.”

Regret lingers in her eyes as she confesses, “I’m sorry, but I can’t be with you anymore. I want to break up.” Her gaze, tinged with sadness, speaks volumes as she nervously bites her lip, the weight of her decision palpable in the room.

Namjoon nods thoughtfully, “Okay. No hard feelings. I understand.” His gaze shifts to Jungkook, a hint of unspoken understanding passing between them. “You can always call me—whether it’s just to talk or if one of the animals gets sick. Friends?” The air seems to lighten with the sincerity of his words.

“Friends,” she breathes out, the words carrying the weight of a burden lifted from her heart. Her gratitude spills forth, a sincere “And thank you, Namjoon,” echoing in the room.

She shares a smile with him, and his response mirrors the sentiment. From your perch on the couch, the intimacy of their moment feels oddly intrusive, and you can’t shake the sense of being an unintended witness to the delicate unraveling of their relationship.

Namjoon pivots, offering a parting nod and a soft farewell before gracefully exiting the room.

As his presence fades, you exhale the breath you’d been clutching, the room finally free from tension. “Well, that was uncomfortable.”

Jessi chuckles, seemingly unfazed by the awkwardness you just witnessed, her laughter echoing through the room.

You rise to your feet, stretching your tired body, and with a gentle tone, you ask, “Do you want to head home now, Kook?”

Jungkook remains seated on the couch, exchanging a meaningful glance with your sister. “I was actually thinking about staying and bringing her home tomorrow,” he says, his voice carrying a quiet determination.

Your eyes flicker open, but you quickly compose your expression, offering them both a gentle smile. “I’ll call Soo-ah to come pick me up then,” you say, your voice carrying a mix of understanding and reassurance.

Jessi doesn’t possess a single bone wired for relaxation. Despite the doctors’ earnest advice to take it slow and steady, does she heed it? Absolutely not.

With determined grit, she maneuvers the wheelchair around the house with one hand, attempting to shoulder every task single-handedly, only to find herself faltering at each turn.

In her quest for a simple glass of water, disaster struck – the glass slipped from her grasp, dancing precariously on the edge of destruction before miraculously escaping the fate of shattered fragments.

Your sister’s unwavering stubbornness has sparked numerous discussions, leaving you weary from the incessant cycle of repeating yourself.

“Why can’t you just stay put and let me handle it?” you groan at her futile attempt to set the dinner table. Exasperated, you snatch the plate from her hand and expertly arrange it on the table.

You’ve relocated all her belongings to the guest room, a practical move given her current inability to navigate the stairs. It’s a convenience for everyone, yourself included.

Exasperated, you burst out, “Sit your ass down!”

Her laughter rings through the room as she retorts, “I am sitting.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at her playful defiance.

Kneeling down, your eyes lock onto hers, a plea in your gaze. “I can take care of everything for you. Pushing yourself too hard will only slow down your recovery. Is that what you really want?”

Her gaze shifts away, words escaping in a soft mumble, their meaning lost in the air between you.

“What was that?”

Her response is a defiant whisper, almost a rebellion against her own vulnerability. “No. I don’t want that. Fine. You can do everything. It’s just not in my nature to let everybody do everything for me.”

When you told your sister you could handle everything on the ranch, little did you anticipate the relentless demands that awaited. Now, sweat beads roll down your hairline, and sticky shirts cling to your fatigued body—your new normal. Soreness and exhaustion threaten to overcome you, yet you persist. The unwavering support of Soo-ah, Ara, and Ha-rin becomes your lifeline, and you find yourself profoundly grateful for their presence. Without them, the daunting tasks ahead would be impossible.

Despite the relentless physical and mental demands, there’s an undeniable love that fuels your every effort. It’s in the rhythmic cadence of working with the horses, the joy of discovering ripe veggies in the garden, the satisfaction of feeding the cattle and horses. Cleaning the stable, tending to the yard, and meticulously fixing the fences become more than just chores—they’re threads woven into the tapestry of a passion that now defines you.

As if the outside challenges weren’t enough, the list of tasks inside the house seems never-ending—cleaning, organizing, tackling taxes, and conjuring up dinners that dance on the taste buds. The sheer magnitude of it all makes you marvel at Jessi’s ability to juggle these responsibilities, leaving you to wonder how she navigates this intricate dance without succumbing to the relentless rhythm of exhaustion.

In the whirlwind of responsibilities, Jungkook offers to lend his hands in fixing one of the fences on your property.

The anticipation of Jungkook’s assistance becomes a beacon of relief in your hectic schedule, and a mischievous thought flits through your mind—wondering if you could sweet-talk him into tackling the entire task, granting you a rare and much-needed moment of respite.

In the driver’s seat of your brand-new pickup truck, a lustrous shade of dark purple that gleams in the sunlight, you reflect on its arrival, replacing the ghost of the white one marred by Jessi’s unfortunate accident. The former wreck, irreparably damaged, made way for this sleek, modern model, boasting enhanced comfort that transforms every drive into a genuine pleasure.

As you turn the key in the ignition, the hum of the engine beneath you, and shift the truck into first gear, anticipation courses through you. The Eastern paddock awaits, its fence in need of repair, and Jungkook has promised to join you. The radio provides a lively soundtrack, and you find yourself singing along with joy, only to fall into a hushed silence as the familiar silhouette of a blue truck comes into view, neatly parked beside the fence.

Cursing under your breath, frustration seizes you as you realize Jungkook— that damn traitor, has sent his brother to handle the job he promised to do. 

The betrayal stings, especially considering the current strained terms between you and Jimin. Anger simmers within, escaping in a low, gritted scoff as you pull your car up beside Jimin’s.

Jimin dives into the task at hand, effortlessly measuring wire lengths and expertly cutting them to fit the fence. There’s no denying it, not that there ever was – Jimin is undeniably attractive. As you observe from the comfort of your car, your gaze lingers on his sweaty forehead, his biceps flexing beneath the rolled-up shirt. Another curse slips from your lips; why does he have to look this good?

A whirlwind of emotions courses through your veins – desire entangled with frustration. Jimin’s effect on your mind is infuriating. Yes, you still crave him, but the bitterness lingers. He chose someone else without engaging in a conversation about what transpired, a choice that feels painfully immature.

Relaxing your crossed arms, you swing the door open and step into the sweltering air. You circle the car to grab your tools and approach Jimin, who doesn’t bother to cast even a fleeting glance your way.

You scoff and roll your eyes. No greeting? This is a new low. You expected, at the very least, a bit of small talk. Seems like even that was too much to ask for.

“Hey, Jimin,” you say, attempting to mask the tension growing thick in the air. He remains silent, his focus fixed on his strong and calloused hands diligently working on the fence.

At least you’ve chosen to be the bigger person, maintaining your politeness. You dive into the task at hand, assisting him in measuring, cutting, and applying the new wire. The absence of conversation hangs heavy, a stifling silence that feels more like a heavy weight on your chest. It’s uncomfortable, this void between you two, and you can’t help but despise it with every fiber of your being.

In the suffocating silence, you realize that attempting conversation is futile, as he remains resolute in ignoring your every plea. Determined to endure the unbearable tension, you find yourself silently cursing Jungkook in your mind for orchestrating you into working with Jimin. There’s no question about it— you’ll have a serious talk with him later about this stupid plan of his!

Your hands accidentally collide with Jimin’s a few times, and the contact sends a jolt through you, a sensation you hastily withdraw from as if burned. The lingering touch awakens something buried deep within, a sentiment you’re determined to suppress. Those residual feelings must be banished, relegated to the recesses of your heart.

You can’t help but notice Jimin’s persistent gaze fixed upon you, and it’s disconcerting. The emotions swirling in the air are indescribable, leaving you puzzled about the cause of his intense scrutiny. Yet, the expression etched on his face is far from one of happiness or satisfaction; instead, it bears the weight of pain and unresolved sentiments.

The realization hits hard—there’s no denying it now. You and Jimin let your moment slip away, a truth that’s crystal clear now.

As a heavy sigh escapes your lips, you find yourself yearning for a past rewritten, a canvas of memories painted with different hues.

“It’s official!” 

In an exuberant burst of joy, you proclaim the moment, your voice echoing in giddy celebration as you sit on the grass. Beside you, Yoongi chuckles, and the tranquil scene unfolds with Holly and Marshmallow leisurely grazing on the grass.

Ecstatic, he declares, “We’re in business, baby!” His laughter resonates, and his radiant smile competes with the brilliance of the sun. You join in the laughter, though the pet name doesn’t quite sit right with you.

Playfully, you groan, “God, please don’t call me ’baby’,” as laughter continues to ripple between you. His response is a simple, hearty chuckle.

As the sun dips below the horizon, a serene quiet blankets the hilltop, providing a perfect backdrop to absorb the significance of the moment. You and Yoongi, now proud business owners of a wild horse gentling venture, revel in the excitement of the journey ahead. The prospect of working with more horses and bringing joy to people through these extraordinary animals fuels your anticipation.

With a hint of emotion in his voice, a touch of longing, Yoongi shares, “I’ve already found our inaugural customer.” Intrigued, you turn to face him, your eyes prompting him to reveal more about this exciting news.

With a weighted voice, laden with deep emotions, Yoongi reveals, “There’s a guy not far from us. He’s taken an interest in Holly.” Your gasp resonates with the dread that settles in—oh no, not Holly.

“But isn’t she yours to keep?” you ask, a tinge of sadness reflected in your eyes. Expectations of Yoongi keeping Holly for himself, the first horse you both worked on, echo in your question. The bond he shares with her seems uniquely special, so why part with her?

“I truly adore her, but she’s just a horse. And this is business,” he sighs, his voice carrying the weight of the decision as he gazes at the sunset. A lump forms in your throat, and tears well in your eyes. The thought of selling Mikrokosmos, your horse, feels almost impossible. She’s not just a business asset; she’s a part of you, and the idea of parting with her is heart-wrenching.

“Well, I hope she’ll love her new home,” you say with a bittersweet smile, gently shoving him playfully on the shoulder. The mixture of emotions swirls between you two, acknowledging the business aspect while secretly hoping Holly finds as much happiness in her new home as you both found in each other’s company.

“I hope so too,” he murmurs, his lips pressed into a tight line. The deep affection he holds for the horse is evident, and you sense the internal struggle he’s facing. This decision weighs on him, and you find yourself sharing in the silent understanding of the emotional complexity tied to their parting.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting hues of warm orange and pink across the sky, you remain on the hilltop, sharing the tranquil moment with your horses grazing beside you. In the company of Yoongi, your best friend, you reflect on the genuine bond that has grown between you. His presence is a comforting constant, a reliable listener, and a confidant you deeply appreciate.

In a moment of vulnerability, you confess, “You know... I’ve never really felt at home anywhere since I left the ranch.” The weight of emotions settles over you, and tears threaten to escape. 

Sensing your need for comfort, Yoongi turns to you, wrapping you in a gentle hug that speaks volumes without uttering a single word.

Amid the hues of the setting sun, Yoongi poses a poignant question, his voice laden with a mix of emotion and weariness. “Do you feel at home now?” he asks, and a soft chuckle escapes your lips, a response teeming with a complex blend of gratitude, uncertainty, and the subtle realization that ’home’ might be more than a physical place.

“I actually do.”

Words tumble from your lips as you gaze over the ranch from the hilltop, the golden glow of the sun casting a warm aura. “I never thought I would feel at home again. But this place has a way of working its magic on everything,” you confess, a testament to the transformative power your surroundings have woven into the fabric of your heart.

His smile echoes the sentiment, and he envelops you in a tight hug, as if the embrace itself is a testament to the enchantment this place has cast upon your lives. 

“That it sure does,” he murmurs, a shared acknowledgment of the profound connection you both feel to the land beneath your feet.

In the vast expanse of uncertainties, you shudder at the mere thought of navigating through the challenges without Yoongi by your side, a reliable anchor in the unpredictable sea of life. The gratitude for his friendship lingers in your heart, a sentiment too profound to be expressed in mere words.

“Will you come over tomorrow? The guy that wants to buy Holly will come and pick her up in the morning…” You discern the unspoken plea in his eyes, and with a tender smile, you draw closer, seeking solace in the warmth of his presence.

“Of course I’ll be there, Yoon.”

After the sun’s final bow, Yoongi rides back to the Park ranch, and you descend the hill towards your home. The term ’home’ once felt foreign, but now it wraps around you like a familiar embrace, an unwavering truth – your refuge, always and forever.

The next day, fueled by a hasty breakfast, you dash to the stables, the eager anticipation of your visit to Bell Ranch propelling you forward. Your task at hand: preparing Marshmallow for the journey ahead.

In the quiet embrace of the barn, you exchange a warm greeting with Marshmallow, ushering him into the center of the space. There, you deftly equip him with a saddle and bridle. As you guide him outside, the crisp morning air envelops you, and the gentle caress of the early sun bestows warmth upon your skin. A deep inhale fills your lungs, and with a graceful exhale, you mount Marshmallow. With a subtle nudge, you prompt him into a rhythmic gallop, traversing the lush expanse of green that unfolds before you.

The journey feels fleeting, far too brief for the solace it provides. Arriving at the stables, you swiftly dismount and tenderly remove Marshmallow’s tack. Leading him to one of the paddocks, you release him to the embrace of the open space, allowing him a well-deserved respite while you prepare to work with Yoongi.

You make your way to the pen, where Yoongi bids farewell to Holly. His arms envelop the brown mare’s neck in a tight embrace, soft pats accentuating the silent conversation between man and horse. Tears trace a path down his cheeks, and unexpectedly, you find your own emotions stirred, empathizing with the bittersweet parting, even though Holly isn’t your horse.

You acknowledge him with a quiet nod, hesitant to disrupt the tender moment between him and Holly. Leaning against the fence, you observe the heartfelt exchange. Holly emits a deep, resonant whinny, and for a fleeting moment, it feels as though she comprehends the impending separation.

As the sound of a truck pulling a trailer draws near behind you, the realization dawns—it’s time. Yoongi lifts his head from its resting place on Holly’s neck, offering her a final, affectionate pat before reluctantly stepping away.

With a heavy heart, Yoongi guides Holly towards the waiting trailer in the yard. The man has preemptively opened the trailer door, and as Holly steps inside, Yoongi closes the latch with a palpable reluctance. Standing on the sidelines, you observe the exchange—the man handing Yoongi some money, their handshake resonating with unspoken emotions. As the man returns to his car and drives away, Yoongi walks over to you, a profound sadness etched on his face.

“It’s okay,” you offer a comforting reassurance to Yoongi, wrapping him in a gentle hug.

He shares a bittersweet acknowledgment, a tinge of sadness coloring his smile, as both of you reluctantly shift your focus away from the departing car.

“Do you want to work on Mikrokosmos? I feel like I need something to do to keep my mind off Holly,” his request hangs in the air, laced with a subtle vulnerability as he looks at you with a sheepish smile. A shared understanding passes between you, and you nod in agreement, both silently making your way toward the stables, seeking solace in the comforting routine of working with Mikrokosmos.

With a confident stride, you retrieve Mikrokosmos from her stall, guiding her down to the pen without the need for a rope or halter. Yoongi walks beside you, a wistful smile playing on his lips.

Swinging the gate wide, you usher Mikrokosmos into the pen, her graceful steps echoing within the enclosure. Yoongi assumes his customary perch atop the fence, his observant eyes tracking the movements of the spirited mare.

Allowing Mikrokosmos to explore your scent, you initiate a tactile connection by stroking her forehead, tracing the path down her elegant neck, and along the sinewy contours of her shoulders. As your hands ascend to her back, you apply a gentle yet firm pressure, echoing the techniques you observed from Yoongi weeks ago, establishing a silent rapport with the magnificent mare.

Feeling the mare’s ease under your touch, you gradually increase the pressure, traversing her back with a comforting rhythm. When your eyes seek Yoongi’s for guidance, a silent understanding passes between you. Without a spoken word, he reads your unspoken query. “She’s ready,” he asserts with unwavering confidence, his voice a testament to the bond you’re building with Mikrokosmos.

Emboldened by Mikrokosmos’ serene response to your touch, you decide to take a daring leap, mimicking Yoongi’s approach with Holly. With a sense of excitement and trepidation, you pull yourself up onto her back. To your delight, she remains unfazed, allowing you to settle in, planting your bum securely on her back. It’s a moment of triumph, a testament to the trust building between you and the spirited mare.

In a breathless moment, Mikrokosmos stands still, and then, breaking the silence, she releases a soft whinny. Your heart swells with a mix of wonder and joy. As you pat her neck, a gentle coaxing with the press of your legs encourages her to move. Together, you embark on a slow journey around the pen, a newfound connection unfolding beneath you. From atop the fence, Yoongi grins widely, witnessing the magical communion between rider and horse.

A surge of pride and accomplishment courses through you. It’s a defining moment, a testament to the progress made. Confidence radiates from your every move as you navigate the pen on horseback, a triumphant smile adorning your face.

As a sudden pressure builds in your bladder, frustration wells up internally. Of all the moments, it has to be now. Succumbing to the inevitable, you voice your discomfort, “I need to use the restroom. Can you look after Mikrokosmos until I return?”

Yoongi acknowledges with a nod, and you smoothly descend Mikrokosmos’ body, grounding your feet in the sand. With a burst of energy, you vault over the fence, sprinting all the way up to the main house.

You forgo the courtesy of knocking, opting to swing the door wide open as you make a beeline for the bathroom.

As your fingers extend toward the door handle, it unexpectedly swings open, catching you off guard and sending a jolt of surprise through you.

As the door swings open, you’re met with the unexpected sight Deiji, draped only in a towel. Her damp hair and glistening skin hint at a recent shower, and the small droplets of water sparkle in the light. A startled shriek escapes her lips as her gaze locks with your equally surprised and wide eyes.

Panicking, you blurt out, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Your words stumble over each other as the sound of approaching footsteps from upstairs adds to the awkward tension in the air.

Down the stairs descends Jimin, clad in nothing but a pair of snug grey joggers, his feet bare, hair wet, and your jaw practically hits the floor.

“What’s the matter, babe?” He queries, running a hand through his damp hair. His eyes find your startled form, and he instantly eases into a more relaxed demeanor.

You’re caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Your heartbeat skyrockets, and you’re torn between the urge to look away and the magnetic pull keeping your gaze fixed on Jimin. Every contour of his physique, from well-defined pectorals to a happy trail of natural brown hairs leading down to his crotch, leaves you both captivated and flustered. He is everything you imagined and more. 

A sudden wave of heat engulfs the room, making you feel as if you’re suffocating. You become acutely aware that you might have been staring for too long, as both Jimin and Deiji shoot you concerned glances, their eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

“What are you doing here?” Jimin inquires, casually flexing his abdominals with a smirk playing on his lips. It’s a dirty move, and he knows it. Why does he have to look so devilishly good, practically flaunting something you can’t have? It’s not fair—Park Jimin is a temptation, and you can’t help but feel he might be your downfall.

As realization dawns, you suddenly recall the purpose of your intrusion. “I have to pee,” you blurt out, a mixture of embarrassment and urgency in your tone.

Amused laughter fills the room, and Deiji graciously clears some space, saying, “You can use it; I’m done anyway.”

Nodding, you flash her a grateful smile, a strange mix of nerves and curiosity swirling within you. As you pass her, a trail of her sweet floral scent lingers, enveloping you. Just before slipping into the bathroom, you steal a glance at Jimin. His face wears a smirk you can’t decipher. 

Suddenly, it dawns on you - this is the first time he has spoken to you in weeks.

Basking in the midday sun, a gentle breeze toys with your hair, allowing its tender touch to dance across your neck as you gallop through the undulating hills astride Marshmallow.

Thundering across these expansive landscapes, a spirited gallop grants temporary solace to your heart, momentarily eclipsing the tumult within. Damn Park Jimin and his angelic and devilish looking face. The ache intensifies witnessing him with his infuriatingly perfect girlfriend; a pain that lingers, leaving you uncertain if you’ll ever get over him.

Granting Marshmallow unrestrained freedom, you traverse diverse landscapes—dense forests, the serene lake, and finally, the ranch’s Eastern expanse. Yet, an unsettling discord interrupts the tranquility, an eerie cry that echoes of an animal’s distress. Tensing the reins, you guide Marshmallow toward the source of the ominous noise.

Arriving at the scene, your eyes widen at the sight of a cow standing in the paddock, its posture awkward, and a pair of feet protruding from its laboring form. A gasp escapes you as the realization dawns – the cow is giving birth.

Dismounting from Marshmallow, urgency propels you toward the struggling cow. The rhythmic movement of the legs suggests the birthing process, something doesn’t seem right and you don’t know what to do. In a quick reflex, you pull out your phone, dialing the only person you know what to do.

The ringtone echoes anxiously, each second an eternity as you plead silently for the familiar voice to answer. The urgency in your chest intensifies with each passing ring. Please, just pick up, dammit!

Relief floods over you as Namjoon’s voice resonates through the phone, a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. “This is Namjoon,” he declares, and in that instant, it’s as if the universe aligns to bring order to the chaos around you.

“Thank god! Can you come and help? There’s a cow giving birth in the Eastern paddock, and it sounds like she’s in distress!” Your urgent plea pierces through the phone, echoing the distress emanating from the laboring cow.

“You know these animals can handle calving by themselves, right?” He chuckles on the line, and you roll your eyes, dismissing the notion with a hint of impatience. There’s no time for a history lesson; immediate action is what you need.

“The baby cow’s legs are moving back and forth—is that normal?” Your voice carries a hint of sternness, convinced that this situation isn’t within the realms of normalcy. Silence greets you on the other end, and for a brief moment, you fear he might have hung up.

“I’ll be there as soon as possible!” His voice, once calm, now carries a sense of urgency and stress, and in that moment, you grasp the gravity of the situation.

“Try to see if you can pull the calf’s legs out until I arrive, okay?” His urgent plea echoes in your ears, mingling with the distant sound of a car door opening and closing on the line, signaling hope that he’s racing to your aid.

“Pull its legs out?” Your frantic voice echoes into the void as the call disconnects. A heavy sigh escapes you as you gaze at the distressed cow. Uncertainty clings to you like a shadow; you’re torn between the fear of causing harm and the weight of Namjoon’s expertise urging you to act. He’s the vet, after all, and if he says it’s the necessary step, you steel yourself for what needs to be done.

Rolling your sleeves up, you step forward, determined to help the distressed cow. Your hand rests gently on its back, employing the same calming touch you would use with a wild horse. Slowly, your hand traverses down its body to its hindquarters where the legs protrude awkwardly. With a careful grip, you attempt to pull, but to no avail. It becomes apparent that the helpless calf is firmly lodged inside, presenting a daunting challenge.

Beads of sweat mingle with the dust on your brow, the relentless struggle to free the trapped calf becomes a desperate dance. The distant hum of an approaching engine brings a surge of hope, and relief washes over you as Namjoon’s truck roars to a halt behind you. Oh thank god!

With a swift, purposeful stride, Namjoon emerges from his truck, the familiar cadence of urgency echoing in each step. In his firm grip, the vet bag swings like a lifeline as he hastens toward you and the distressed cow.

Apologies linger in Namjoon’s voice as he swiftly dons a pair of absurdly long, cerulean gloves from his well-stocked bag. His keen eyes scan the scene, assessing the situation as he poses a question that cuts through the tense air, “It’s still not out?”

Retreating to give Namjoon the space he needs, you watch in awe as he envelops the tiny legs with his gloved hands, channeling the strength of his entire body into each determined pull.

“It normally doesn’t take this long to birth a calf…” sweat beads on Namjoon’s forehead as he exerts more effort, a hint of concern in his voice. With a final determined tug, the calf emerges, first the legs, then the head and the rest of its body. Namjoon carefully lowers it to the ground, leaving the newborn covered in a mixture of slime and blood.

Namjoon discards his gloves into a wash bag, his eyes shifting from the exhausted cow to the newborn calf finding its bearings on the grass. “Calling me was the right move; it didn’t appear the cow could manage to push the calf out on her own,” he remarks, a touch of relief in his voice.

Gratitude fills your words as you express, “Thanks for rushing over and handling everything – I mean, doing the heavy lifting for me.” A soft chuckle escapes your lips, acknowledging the reality that pulling out a calf was far beyond your strength.

“No problem,” his response is accompanied by a warm, bright smile, radiating reassurance. As he stows away his bag in the truck, he turns to you, locking eyes with you.

“How’s Jessi doing?” His question comes with a warm smile, yet beneath it, a subtle dance of curiosity and nervousness in his browline. A soft chuckle escapes you as you contemplate the enduring care he holds for Jessi, even after the end of their relationship. It’s nice that they are able to stay friends and still care for each other like this.

Your smile mirrors his, genuine and bright. “She’s holding up well, still bossing everyone around. Though she’s confined to crutches for now, the silver lining is that the casts are scheduled to come off in just a few days.”

His smile widens, and he nods appreciatively. “Well, that’s a relief to hear.”

You chuckle again, the sound echoing in the air. Namjoon, a genuinely good guy, radiates warmth, and it’s a bittersweet realization that things didn’t work out between him and your sister. Deep down, you silently wish him a future where he finds someone who can fulfill the desires that shimmer in his eyes – a quest you sense he’s earnestly pursuing.

“I’ll get going then. Everybody needs my help today.” He chuckles, his robust frame resonating with the warmth of his laughter, and Namjoon announces his departure. Acknowledging his unwavering commitment to helping others, you nod in farewell, watching as he steps into his truck and drives away.

You return to Marshmallow, your hand gently caressing his neck in appreciation before seamlessly mounting him. With a swift swing of your leg over the saddle, you guide him on the journey back home.

“Why are we subjecting ourselves to this culinary chaos again?” you groan, placing yet another dish onto the grand table in your dining room, glancing at Jessi for an answer.

Jessi gracefully moves around the table, lending a hand in setting up while ensuring everything is perfectly in place. “It’s all in celebration of liberation from the cast!” She jubilantly shakes her once-encased arm and leg, now liberated. You can’t help but roll your eyes; your sister’s idea of a celebration might be a bit eccentric, but it’s her party after all.

In the bustling kitchen, Ha-rin and Ara work tirelessly to craft an array of delectable dishes, infusing the house with a symphony of tantalizing aromas. Meanwhile, you, Jessi, and Soo-ah engage in a meticulous dance, setting the table with precision and placing each carefully prepared dish, allowing wisps of steam to rise and tantalize the senses.

As the feast approaches, your sister has extended invitations far and wide, and that inevitably includes Jimin and his girlfriend. The mere thought of encountering him again prompts a preemptive groan, and you find yourself yearning for a way to evade the impending interaction. Alas, with him being your neighbor and frequent collaborator on ranch-related endeavors, avoiding him proves to be a challenging feat. You scuff at the predicament, silently longing for a different reality.

With an audible clunk, you assertively place the plates on the table, the reverberation echoing the intensity of your emotions.

“Easy there!” Your sister scolds, her tone a playful warning, as she delicately places the glasses in front of the plates.

You chuckle, a lightness returning to your mood, and set the plates down with a flourish before heading into the kitchen to collect the utensils.

Anticipation gnaws at you as you set the table, a desire to get through this dinner quickly, fueled by the looming presence of Jimin. His silence has become a heavy weight, and ever since that unexpected glimpse of him almost naked, unwanted thoughts and vivid images intrude your mind. You scold yourself, reminding that he isn’t yours to entertain such thoughts about. It’s not fair to him or Deiji, and you need to push these images aside.

As you mope around the dining room, preparing for the gathering, the atmosphere shifts with the arrival of guests. Jungkook bursts in, enveloping your sister in a warm embrace before turning his attention to you. His hug is almost too tight, prompting a small squeak to escape your lips, and he responds with hearty laughter that fills the room.

As Jimin and Deiji make their entrance, you acknowledge them with a subtle nod, instinctively creating a bit of space between you. The air seems to tighten with unresolved tension, and you navigate the space carefully, aware that every step brings you closer to a rendezvous with emotions you’d rather keep at bay.

Hoseok strides into the room, with Yoongi next to him, he’s the first to envelop you in a warm embrace, a radiant smile on his face. He peppers you with questions about how you’ve been, and with a reassuring nod, you assure him that everything’s going well. Then, seamlessly, Yoongi joins in, encircling you with his arms, a reassuring and tight embrace that momentarily eases the complexities lingering in the air.

“Missed you,” he chuckles, his arms refusing to release you as you playfully roll your eyes. Amidst the friendly banter, you can’t help but notice Jimin’s intense gaze fixed on you. His eyes darken, and the once bright smile on his face transforms into a subtle frown, leaving you with a sense of unease.

Your heart sinks, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. Does Jimin not know that Yoongi is gay, and that his kiss was merely his attempt at figuring out his sexuality? It occurs to you that he probably doesn’t. After all, Yoongi hasn’t openly shared his sexual orientation, and you’ve kept it confidential as well. The pieces start falling into place, and you comprehend the anger simmering in Jimin’s eyes. If he assumes that you and Yoongi are a couple, it would explain the tension and frustration etched on his face.

How do you convey to Jimin that your relationship with Yoongi is nothing more than a deep, platonic friendship, without revealing Yoongi’s sexual orientation?

And in the grand scheme of things, does any of this even hold weight now? With him having a girlfriend, laying the truth bare seems futile. Why would confessing change a thing? He’s maintained radio silence for months, a streak of silence that shows no signs of breaking, so why break it now?

Yoongi releases you, and you respond with a playful slap on his shoulder. As he steps back, falling in line behind Hoseok, you can’t help but catch the subtle way his gaze traces Hoseok’s figure.

As you glance over, you spot Namjoon and Seokjin in the hallway, each holding a bottle of wine. A smile plays on your lips as they make their way toward you, meticulously placing the bottles on the table before joining in the gathering.

Namjoon envelops you in a warm, tight hug, his curious voice breaking through the buzz of the room. 

“How’s that calf doing?” he inquires, while Seokjin raises an intrigued eyebrow at him.

Gratitude warms your voice as you assure Namjoon, “He’s doing fine with his mother and the rest of the herd. Thank you so much for helping.” A warm smile accompanies your words, and you motion for them to take a seat.

“That’s great,” he remarks, pulling out a chair and settling in beside Seokjin.

Ha-rin and Ara make their entrance into the dining room, their foreheads glistening with the sweat earned from their hard work in the kitchen.

You take your seat beside Yoongi and Soo-ah, casting a glance across the table where Jimin and Deiji have settled. Jessi and Jungkook, positioned next to each other, are engaged in a playful banter that echoes the dynamics of a married couple, the subject revolving around trucks and bikes. Despite your eye roll at their antics, a sweet smile tugs at your lips, warming your heart with the familiarity of their friendship.

Ha-rin’s exhausted yet earnest voice scolds gently, pointing with pride at the array of delectable dishes that have emerged from the depths of her labor in the kitchen throughout the day. “Please, eat your heart out. I’ve practically lived in that kitchen to create this feast,” she urges, her eyes reflecting the passion poured into every culinary creation with the assistance of Ara.

Expressions of gratitude fill the air as your entire group starts delving into the carefully crafted dishes before you. The aroma is irresistible, and your anticipation intensifies as you eagerly anticipate the first savory bite, your hungry stomach protesting its emptiness.

Savoring the heartiness of the meal, you indulge in a bit of everything, each mouthful a symphony of delectable flavors. A wave of gratitude washes over you for having Ha-rin on the ranch, as her culinary skills elevate the dining experience, compensating for your own culinary shortcomings.

Seokjin, caught in the rapture of each bite, pauses to express his culinary admiration. His eyes gleam with appreciation as he licks his lips, savoring the flavors. “Ha-rin, this is truly incredible. Would you mind sharing the recipe later? I don’t want to miss out on a single secret behind this delightful feast.”

Ha-rin’s laughter, a melodic accompaniment to the clinking of cutlery, fills the room. A subtle blush tints her cheeks, and a bashful yet confident smile reveals her teeth. “Thank you,” she responds graciously, “I can send you the recipe later, no problem.”

You can’t help but chuckle, observing her graceful gesture of tucking a strand of short, black hair behind her ear. Her eyes, adorned with a spark of admiration, linger on Seokjin as he savors every bite.

As you glance around the table, a warmth spreads through you, witnessing everyone relishing the moment. Namjoon gracefully pours wine for those seeking a more refined sip, while others opt for the familiar companionship of beer or the simple refreshment of water.

You relish a small glass of red, a rare indulgence that harmonizes beautifully with the culinary symphony on your plate, you’re about to shift your attention back to the feast when you feel the weight of Jimin’s gaze. His eyes pierce through the air, intense and fervent, as though etching a connection with the depths of your soul.

A nervous gulp courses through you, a fleeting warmth that fans the flames of self-consciousness. Your throat tightens imperceptibly, a subtle reminder of the unspoken tension in the air. Summoning courage, you lock eyes with Jimin, your gaze unwavering. The question lingers in the charged atmosphere – why is he studying you with such intensity?

Deiji’s laughter echoes, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Jimin’s eyes. With narrowed gaze, you shoot back a piercing stare, mirroring the frustration and pain you’ve bottled up. Unnoticed, your fingers tighten around the utensils, and red begins to flare behind your eyelids.

“Calm down,” as frustration tightens your grip on the utensils, Yoongi’s calming whisper in your ear nudges you back from the edge. With an exasperated huff, you release your clenched hands. Jimin’s persistent gaze lingers, a puzzle you can’t decipher. Annoyed, you shoot him a furrowed frown, determined to focus on your meal. If he has something to say, he can use words instead of cryptic glances. You refuse to grant him more of your time without a proper conversation.

You practically spear the defenseless food on your plate, the residual anger simmering within. Beside you, Yoongi chuckles, a sound that offers a glimmer of solace. In the midst of your inner turmoil, it’s a relief to know someone can find enjoyment in this tense dinner.

Throughout the remainder of the dinner, laughter dances in the air alongside light-hearted conversations, a melody you struggle to fully engage with. Purposefully steering clear of Jimin, you catch his occasional glances in your direction, each one like an unspoken question lingering in the room.

As the final bites are savored and the dinner concludes, a collective effort ensues to tidy up the remnants of the feast. While some bid their goodbyes and disappear into the night, a handful remain, drawn to the allure of the terrace to indulge in leisurely drinks before ending the day’s festivities.

Soo-ah, Ara, Ha-rin, Yoongi, and Hoseok gravitate towards the terrace, creating a lively ensemble beneath the canvas of a sky painted with the remnants of a sunset that bid its farewell just hours ago. The air, now a gentle embrace, cradles the warmth of the departed sun, fostering an ambiance ripe for drinks and smalltalk.

You cradle the red wine in your hands, the rich hue mirroring the depth of your thoughts. It’s only your second glass, but who’s keeping track anyway?

You exhale with a profound sigh, sinking back into the chair, as if the weight of the day is lifting off your shoulders in that single breath.

Hoseok gazes at you, concern etched across his face. “What’s eating at you?”

You let out a frustrated groan, a desire to yank at your own hair bubbling beneath the surface. Uncertain about revealing the source of your vexation, you debate whether to open up about what’s truly bothering you. Given that your friends are well aware of your feelings for Jimin, it’s not as if you’d be sharing some profound secret.

“I’m just tired of Jimin,” you confess with a deep exhale, absentmindedly twirling the wine glass in your fingers, the crystal capturing the soft glow of the terrace lights.

Yoongi chuckles knowingly; he’s been a willing listener to your rants and frustrations about Jimin countless times. The girls exchange sympathetic glances, silently urging you to share more of your feelings.

“It’s frustrating, really. He hasn’t spoken a word to me since that awkward encounter when I met him and Deiji coming fresh out of the shower. The only thing he did say was to question why I was there. And now, he keeps looking at me with this strange intensity and weird look and I just can’t figure out what’s going on in his head,” you confess, letting out a heavy sigh.

Hoseok bursts into laughter, breaking the tension with his infectious humor, “Maybe he wants a threesome?” Your eyes roll at his playful comment, appreciating how he effortlessly lightens the mood, a skill he seems to master whenever things get awkward.

“I’m sure he doesn’t. Not that I’m interested!” Laughter ripples through the group, a collective release of tension that eases the weight on your shoulders.

“Maybe he just wants to talk then?” Hoseok suggests, his eyes holding a glimmer of hope beneath the terrace’s soft glow.

“If he wants to talk to me, he should just do it instead of giving me those fucking angry eyes,” you scoff, the frustration and deflation evident in your voice.

“I’m just so angry!” you declare, your body tensing with each word before finally releasing the built-up tension.

“We get it,” Soo-ah remarks, her voice understanding and sympathetic.

“Love is hard,” she adds with a touch of melancholy, her gaze lingering on Hoseok. You know that she likes him, but you don’t know if Hoseok feels the same for her. 

You let out a bitter, angry chuckle, the sound escaping from deep within as a manifestation of the frustration and tension bubbling inside you.

“By the way, does his girlfriend look familiar to any of you?” you inquire, turning to face them, only to be met with a chorus of laughter. Their unexpected reaction leaves you bewildered and searching for answers.

Ara quirks an eyebrow, suppressing a smile behind her delicate hand, and gently teases, “You haven’t realized yet?”

You shake your head. Realized what?

“She looks like you.” Ha-rin’s revelation is like a sudden thunderclap in the midst of a quiet storm, her words hanging in the air with a weight that sends a shiver down your spine. 

She looks like you? 

Every fiber of your being comes alive, reigniting the small fire you had extinguished for Jimin. The embers, once dormant, now glow and dance, casting an unexpected warmth that spreads through the chambers of your heart. The uncanny resemblance between you and Jimin’s girlfriend becomes a flickering flame, illuminating the shadows of your emotions and casting doubt on the carefully constructed walls you’ve built around your feelings.

Could this mean what you think it does?

Fuck.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

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True Alliance

Fandom: Ikemen Prince 

Pairing: Licht x F!Reader x Keith 

Prompt: Enchanted Evenings: Day 13 - Foodplay 

CW: Food play, nippleplay, fingering, facefucking, multiple orgasms, double penetration, double vaginal penetration, dirty talk, rough sex, creampie

WC: 2050+

AN Notes: So I got into a conversation with a whole bunch of discord friends and this idea got planted in my head… I think its safe to say I enjoyed it. 

Tagging: @thewitchofbooks , @queen-dahlia , @canaria-blackwell , @kissmetwicekissmedeadly , @aquagirl1978 , @themysticalbeing , @devildomwritersposts , @luvrsn , @namine-somebodies-nobody , @atelieredux , @violettduchess , @sarahann-1984 , @kpop-and-otome , @citizensofcradle , @curious-skybunny , @littlewitty , @lordsisterxotome , @ariamichel - If your name is crossed out I was unable to tag you. If you want to be tagged/untagged please let me know or fill out this form here.

Keep reading

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞

Gilbert von Obsidian x f!Reader

My contribution for Fall Fluff Autumn Angst CCC hosted by @aquagirl1978 and @violettduchess ♡

Prompts: warming hands, treats, leaves, hot apple cider. :D

Warnings: fluff, not beta read, bad English, expect grammatical errors. ^^

WC: 1657 A/N: Please, let’s just pretend that cotton candy already exist in this time but only in some country

You can't stop smiling as you stare at your reflection. Today is the day you've been looking forward to.

It's been days since you and Gilbert agreed to go to the festival, which was postponed when you visited the orphanage. You will spend another day with him outside the palace walls.

When you hear a knock on the door, you exhale to calm your overly excited heart and smoothing your dress for the nth time.

"Come in." You turned around as the door swung open.

"Shall we go?" He smiled at you, and you returned his smile.

══════════════════

As you step inside the carriage, you attempt to keep cool and hide your excitement.

"So, tell me about this Halloween festival." He said.

"Well, there will be games to play, and if you win, you may choose whatever prize you want, depending on your score. Prizes can be either items or food. There are also some other shops selling Halloween-related items."

The conversation went smoothly as you talked about Halloween and answered some of his questions while Gilbert happily listened to you.

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You finally arrived at the town. There are a lot of people visiting the shops.

"What was that?" Gilbert asked, pointing to that one little shop. It was almost completely surrounded by small clouds, and the people who bought these 'small clouds' were eating it.

"I've never seen those before, do you want to check it out?"

He nodded, and you both observed the people eating it with almost satisfied expressions on their faces.

"I'm curious what that is."

"Based on how long that line is, whatever they're selling must be really good." Gilbert said. "I don't want to waste time waiting in the line, stay here."

Before you could respond, he walked over to the shop and spoke with one of the vendors. He was far away, you had no idea what they were talking about and you couldn't see who he was speaking to.

Gilbert returned and grinned at you after only a few moments. "Come on, we will return here later."

"What did you talk about?"

"Ah, I told the owner to save some cotton candies for us later."

"Cotton candies? That's what they're called? Did you ask more about it?" You questioned as you both moved to the next booth.

"I didn't, but he said it was very sweet."

Looking back at that shop, the line appears to simply keep going and going. "Well, I really do hope they will save some for us later." You mumbled.

"Don't worry, they will." Gilbert assured you.

You looked up at him, and he simply snickered. "Please tell me you didn't scare the shop owner."

"Did I?" Then he gave you that familiar sinister chuckle.

Although he did not answer your question with a 'yes' or a 'no,' his chuckle did. You sigh, hoping it didn't traumatize the owner.

You walked side by side, but you were startled a little when his icy-cold hand held your hand. Not just that type of hold, but he even intertwined his fingers on yours.

"You might get lost."

"I should be the one to tell you that. I know this place better than you do."

"I'm referring to your height." Gilbert laughs as he continues. "I can't let a little bunny get lost in the crowd."

You frown and roll your eyes at him, but deep down you don't care what he just said. Acting annoyed at him to hide your giddy emotions.

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Gilbert will stop at every food stall to buy candy apples, pumpkin pies, apple breads, as well as other treats, but one shop that caught his interest, the bakery where you used to buy your pastries before arriving at the palace. Cookies with cute monster designs are the most popular treats for Halloween.

You took a seat after Gilbert ordered treats that could practically feed ten people.

That is not surprising. He loves food.

"It's almost a shame to eat this because it's so cute." He says, but then eats it anyway.

You bit back your laughter as you sip on your hot apple cider before taking a bite on the cookie.

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You got up from your seat after eating the sweets. He twined his fingers once more on yours as you two exited the shop and returned to explore the other booths.

When you see some books, both of you will browse the shelves, and whatever catches your eye, Gilbert will buy it, and he bought a lot of books, he instructed the store owners to have it delivered to the palace under your name instead of his.

He explained that it is better to have the deliveries made under your name since he does not like telling people his name and ruining the fun of the festival because he is the prince of Obsidian. Which makes sense.

You were both stopped when a cheerful voice called out to you.

A woman in her late forties approached you with a friendly smile. "Hello. We have a game that needs to be played by partners, and it will begin at 6 in the evening. Of course, there are prizes to be won." The woman then begins to explain more about the game.

Before you could even utter a word, Gilbert spoke. "We'll be there."

"Thanks! You look like a perfect pair for each other. I have a strong feeling you're going to win this game. Goodluck."

"Thank you."

A moment of silence before you finally found your words. "You didn’t even ask me if I would like to participate in that game."

"I know you would."

"There are many games, but you pick the one that is in the last place I'll visit. I don't wanna participate in it."

"Yeah, there are a lot of games, but that one seems interesting. Besides, she said we were a perfect pair for each other." He responds casually as you go back to the first shop you visited.

When the staff noticed you, despite the long queue, they prioritized you and brought you a pair of large cotton candies on a paper stick. Gilbert left the money and began to walk away again.

"This is very sweet." He said as he ate some more.

"And it melts quickly too." You added as you take your time eating it, savoring the sweetness.

"I’m tired, do you know any place that we can rest?" He asked you.

"Yes, it's not far from here."

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Different shades of dried leaves were scattered on the quiet road. There are benches but Gilbert wants to rest under the large tree.

"Would you rather stand there?"

"Of course not." You sat next to him, but Gilbert suddenly laid his head on your lap. "Hey!"

"What?"

"You can lie down on the bench if you want to."

"No. Ah, I'm tired." He said as he closed his eye. You sigh as you let him take a nap. It was tiring, but it was great to be with him. After a few minutes, your fingers lazily stroked his soft, smooth hair.

You leaned back against the tree. The nice weather makes you so drowsy, you attempted to fight the sleep but failed and drifted into dreamland.

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Gilbert's eye fluttered open when he felt you stop stroking his hair, only to see you sleeping peacefully. He moved carefully and sat next to you.

He remembered when you asked him to accompany you to the festival the other day. He was overjoyed since it was the first time in his life that someone had actually asked him, but he kept his cool. His hand on your cheek as he adored you, before kissing your forehead and he spoke.

"Sweet dreams, my little rabbit."

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A strong gust of wind blows on your face, making you shiver. You snuggle on your pillow, and the pillow snuggles back.

At first, you thought it to be a dream, but then the 'pillow' starts to embrace you tightly. You initially allow your senses to register that you are not embracing a pillow but rather a body. You immediately woke up and allowed your brain to fully comprehend everything.

Gilbert had you seated on his lap, his arm over your waist, your head resting on his chest, and his other hand holding a small book. He was still wearing his jacket, but the cape was draped in over you.

"Did I wake you up?"

Everything had finally been registered in your mind. You moved quickly and stood up, but he only laughed at you. Again.

"W-what? Why are you laughing?"

"Ah, I never thought you were a pillow hugger." He smiled.

"I'm sorry about that."

"Why? You did nothing wrong." Gilbert said as he rose up and put the small book in his pocket.

"Where did that book come from?"

"From my pocket."

"Ugh, seriously."

"Ahaha. This was from one of the shops we visited. I didn't have it delivered because I want to read it when I'm resting."

You didn't question him more, and that's when you saw something in his hair. "Stay still." You spoke as you reached out and removed a small leaf from his hair.

"Hey Gil, could you bend down a bit further? There's a little more." He was surprised, but did as you requested, allowing you to remove the leaves. "It's all gone. Do I have any leaves in my hair?"

"No, there isn't. I removed it while you were sleeping."

"Oh, uh, thanks?"

"You're welcome." His fingers entwined once more with yours. "What is it?" He asked when he noticed your confusion.

"You're warm."

"Ah, that. It's because of you. I've been holding you in my arms while you were sleeping."

"... You should have woken me up."

"I don't want to."

He then bit your fingertips before you left the place and : the haunted mansion; to play the game he was looking forward to.

Tagging: @atelieredux @thewitchofbooks ♡

YVES x READER

Good Morning, Prince Yves

oneshot . fluff . kissing . 363 words

minors and ageless blogs please dni

○ ○ ○

You, floating, saccharine and gorgeous in love, are spooled free from pastel dreams into a warm living-space: his space and sanctuary and stage and storybook, shaded in pastel pillows, teacup furniture, the shimmer off jewels and gemwork, and orbiting him, the doll, the prince, the sweetness God baked into blue eyes and ginger smile.

Yves flips the hair from his face and morning light finishes the rest. "You're not allowed to look that cute while you sleep!"

Your cheek tickles then glows effulgent with his frowning admission. "Good morning, Yves."

He beats you to the kiss, which is more air and lips hiding soliloquy than body finding body after a night without. He nips your nose and retreats into his pillow, even as you chase after your capricous cat.

"You're going on a date with me today and that's final," he very seriously asks the ceiling.

You burrow into his side of the covers. "I have etiquette lessons with Sariel."

Yves jumps when your shadow suddenly eclipses his face. His lashes waltz with each corner of the room in which his gaze seeks asylum. But there is more of you in his room now, clothing, books and vestige, than there was when a certain rose began shedding its hours.

A sigh. "You will learn far more from me, and a host of other things as well. Don't forget who you're-"

Breezy footsteps clip past the door and recede toward the library.

A small cataclysm ripples down to your toes as Yves traces his finger over the hills and crests of your face in profile.

"That's two men you've ignored me for and we haven't even left the bed yet."

You won't give him even a second, not a hundredth of a hundredth a second, to overthink nonsense. You eclipse all of him now, with body and beating heart and brows knit in frustration where your smile doesn't quite reach.

"H-hey!"

Yves. Is too cute.

"If you have time today, I'd like to take you up on that date."

He makes a tiny, haughty little laugh in his throat. And then a wordless thank-you wraps around your waist and and holds you for safekeeping.

---

inspired by the resplendent bubheart, gilbertvonobsidian and violettduchess

Pssst, I'm dropping by to ask: when you can, could you do a kiss fic for the sweet, capricious cat Yves Kloss? 😽💖 Thank you ahead darling~

A/N: The final prince suitor to get a kiss fic! (There are still plenty of vamp guys to go)

If you want to see more of the Prince suitors, you can request them for my new series: Afterglow. Requests for this series are always open!

Yves x Reader

Word Count: 600

He slinks into your bedroom, quiet as a cat, afraid to wake you. You, however, have been up and waiting for him. When he notices that you are not sleeping, he launches into a story about cupcakes that would not rise, berries too soggy to decorate with, and chocolate from a country that is clearly not even fit to be used in batter let alone stand on its own as a treat. You watch him as he fumes, a rogue streak of white flour coloring his cheek, his blue eyes bright as he vents his frustration. He’s already undone his cravat and the first button of his shirt while pacing, still rattling off all the things that made his baking endeavors for tomorrow’s tea such a challenge.

God, you love him when he’s like this.

So caught up is he that he doesn’t notice the way you slide out of bed, fleet-footed, until you are suddenly, shockingly, right in front of him, filling his field of vision with your slow smile, your expression turned-on bright as a flame.

His irritated words trail off as you slide your hands over his shoulders, then inwards. You lean forward, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek, nimble fingers working until the next button of his shirt opens. Yves has gone still, a feline frozen as it assesses a situation it is unsure of. Are you….? Do you want……? You drag your lips down his cheek and stop at the corner of his delectable lips, another button popping open.

Oh…..oh you do…..

“Thank you,” you murmur, the words warm as they brush his skin with heated breath.

Another button opens.

The tea party he has worked so hard for is for you, a celebration of your anniversary at the palace, and he has thrown himself completely into making it absolutely perfect. Because it is for you and you deserve nothing less than perfection.

Another button opens and you can trail the tips of your fingernails over the sensitive skin of his exposed chest. “Thank you,” you repeat before finally kissing him.

He is frozen no longer, your kiss unlocking him as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you tightly against him even as he feels his cheeks grow warm. He tastes sweeter than any confection, his mouth opening at your will, responding immediately to the prodding of your tongue. Your fingers continue on their quest until his shirt is open and pushed off his shoulders, floating to the carpet like a sail in gentle winds. You plunder his mouth, greedy hands sliding over the soft, pale skin of his back. You want him exposed to you, open to your touch and your desire. He allows you to guide him, his bare back hitting the soft bed, his body pinned underneath yours. His cheeks are flushed and you pause for just a moment as the fires of want blaze around you to tenderly wipe the white streak of flour off of his pink cheek. Your expression is soft and in your bright gaze, he sees the love you have for him, all of him, regardless of his background, regardless of his thorny temperament. And he loves you back, with every fiber of his being.

His lips part and you lean down, your body pressing his into the bedding, your mouth accepting his invitation. Tonight you will indulge yourself in all that is Yves, from his sweet kisses to his delicious gasps of pleasure to the enticing feel of his skin against yours.

And you will enjoy every moment of it.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly

“Never the same” Miraak Drabble

(Some very short angst with my favorite boi)

He was no fool. The world was different, he knew it would be. That wasn't the problem though. The change was expected, after all. Thousands, upon thousands of years of mysterious appearing books floating before his very eyes- each word and it's stylistic flow changing from years of evolution and worming it's way into his mind, allowing some tether to cling to..granting the ability to understand that though the plane he once was imprisoned on remained ever still- frozen- the world he truly belonged to was changing.

At first it was a terrible feeling, knowing not only that whatever people he once knew were lost to time- dead- but his culture itself was no more? Yeah, it was terrible. However the old saying was true, with time..that horror faded. If anything, it only gave him the fire he needed to follow through with his eon long plans to finally return.

At least until now.

You, of course, were wonderful..he loved you in the most complex way. Enemies to lovers, a destined union. Two dovahkiins, the very material of a legendary story. Bards would practically cry, begging to compose some feeble song regarding the story of your love. That was enough of that. Besides, at this moment you were preoccupied with whatever sweet dreams the divines could fathom, sleeping peacefully in your shared bed..perhaps even reaching for him? He’d certainly like to think so.

Regardless, the lack of your presence only gave way to an already over active mind to become completely inconsolable. He could feel that the deeper he went into his thoughts, the heavier the pounding of his heart was. The sound itself was deafening, is this what madness felt like? It couldn’t be.

Whatever it was, the more he focused upon reality, the deeper the sorrow became. Even with monuments of old still standing before him, he knew they were never going to be like they were in his past.

Perhaps this is why whenever the gentle sea breeze hit his bare face, he then could feel the most peculiar of things..tears. Tears silently falling with only the two moons and the sky as witnesses.

Light, pure light penetrated me. The contrast put me into haze. I didn’t recover my past sight, I increased it to a point close to enchantment. I saw the rays of light, in millions different shades of gold caressing her face in shock. When she moved her hands to cover her mouth, it was the most delicate movement I ever witnessed in my life. With a fluidity and a detail the Mangekyou Sharingan could never reached, I saw her gaze watching my previous eye in the sink, the second one on the floor, then coming back to my face. She repeated the same path two times and then she picked up what had happened. Still mesmerizing, I saw her face changing in horror and fainted. I could have catch her before her fall. But the new clarity of my sight left me absolutely stun. Everything was beyond wonder. Why did it never strike me before? Right now, in the bathroom floor she was so beautiful, so beautiful…

Madara Golden Age, Chapter 1 : Prologue

swat that for me, thanks for playing this itch worth so many anthills migrating against their will via sock otherwise fit for hiking nevermind the hybrid sky changing colors to make one take their jacket off-and-on

Another example of beautiful writing. The entire book is like reading an adventure described in poetic grace.

The Darkening by Sunya Mara

this shit hurt 🥲

𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗮𝘀 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀

!! 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁 !!

It was you and Soobin’s one year anniversary.

You remembered things like that, special little occasions that commemorated some momentous event. You felt that if you could always remember to celebrate the occasions, you could keep a grasp on whatever it commemorated, drag it out, nurture it, keep it alive.

It has been one whole year dating the most wonderful boy! A kind, beautiful boy who gave you a chance when everyone else didn’t even spare a glance. Sometimes, you felt like it was too good to be true. An ugly girl like you, hanging out with Choi Soobin? Dating Choi Soobin? How ridiculous it seems some days… that the two of you have even lasted this long. Maybe it was all a dream, and one day you would wake up and it'd just be you again. Only, that too seemed unfathomable. How could you be alone again, now that you were used to Soobin?

You couldn't…

For this special day, you decided to write him a letter, to finally let down all the walls you once had built up so high, and put forth all your emotions you’d kept concealed for so long. Raw and real, albeit on a piece of paper. And you decided to bake him a cake! A dark chocolate cake that didn’t look all that pretty and didn’t taste exceptionally delicious, but you had tried your best and really, isn’t that all you needed to do? Try your best and ye shall succeed.

You wrapped up the cake in a cute little gift box you had picked out, decorated in a pretty bow, hoping the neatly industrial made package will make up for the mediocre mess of a cake hiding inside. To top it off, you folded your letter in an envelope placed on the curly ribbon.

The plan was to surprise him at the dance studio, because who doesn’t like surprises? You had read they can be just as great as a gift itself. And because you were so excited, never having to been able to do something like this before, you even stopped by a flower shop on the way to buy a pretty little bouquet of yellow roses — to represent joy and friendship AND because it’s a bright, happy color that represented the way Soobin had made you feel ever since he stepped into your world.

There was a pep in your step as you walked down the hall towards his practice room, the box and bouquet clutched tightly in your embrace. Your heart swelled, and you felt so giddy, so happy to give your love. But an uneasiness began to swarm; what if Soobin doesn’t like the gift? What if Soobin thinks the flowers are ugly? What if Soobin thinks the whole anniversary thing is dumb?

What if Soobin..

“So are you like actually dating her now?”

You were almost outside the door to the practice room when you heard a voice.. Beomgyu, another member of the dance team Soobin was on. Quietly, you made your way over to the small window in the door; you could see their reflections on the mirrors. Three boys lounging lazily on the laminate floor a few feet apart from each other. Instead of popping in and presenting the gift you had prepared for your boyfriend, you remained outside, deciding to eavesdrop on their conversation instead.

“Wasn’t that part of the game plan?” Soobin spoke next.

“Well, the game plan was just to get her to have sex with you,” Yeonjun sniggered, and Soobin only narrowed his eyes at his friends— the atmosphere unpleasant. You felt the air suddenly become stiff, unsure of who they were talking about; hoping, praying it didn’t involve you…

“Yeah well, I needed her to trust me? So yeah, I guess I dated her for awhile.”

“But it's different now, right?" Yeonjun smirked, but it wasn’t a pleasant look on his usual charming face.

"What the fuck do you mean?" Soobin’s smile faltered.

"Y/N means more to you now, doesn't she?” A name drop. You had never felt your heart beat so quickly and loud. You held your breath— you couldn't breathe, you were so nervous. The hand holding cake shook— your entire body shook.

“You have feelings for her now. Do you actually love her?” Yeonjun laughed bitterly, and you wondered what about that was so funny. But then your reality began crashing down all around you…

Does he not?

But it was Soobin who came to you with the kindest of smile, like an angel— like a beacon of color, that instantly lit up your dull, dark world. He chose you out of everyone! He’d seen you at your worst and stayed right by your side; He was your security and comfort; He’d shown you love when no one else ever had. He had given you the world and more because he loves you... Soobin LOVES you…

…Right?

"I don't know what you're talking about," Soobin finally answered. “It was just a game. Do I love her,” a disgusted scoff, "Like come on! Open your eyes, have you seen her?”

"You're lying, Soobin~” Beomgyu teased, head thrown back in almost manic laughter.

"Whatever. Look, I got her into bed, we fucked, okay? Pay up."

You watched with large eyes as Yeonjun chuckled and took out his wallet. How much was that? 10,000. 1, 2, 3, 4...10. So 100,000 won then. Your heart shattered as you watched the boy you once believed to be the savior of your life easily collect his reward he earned out of making an utter fool out of of you, your feelings, your body…

And just like that, you felt your world collapse.

You really were nothing more than a joke.

The gifts you had spent so much time and effort on fell carelessly to the ground, with the cake box and bouquet crashing against the tile. And Soobin unwittingly met your eyes through the window.

"Y/N," Soobin whispered, eyes wide. Then louder, "Y/N!" He jumped up from the floor and bolted towards the door, where you were still standing motionlessly. "Y/N, listen." Soobin reached his hand out, intending to take you by the shoulder. But you flinched and backed away. Your eyes stared at Soobin’s, so helpless and hurt. His throat tightened. “Y/N, it's not true. I didn't mean—“ Soobin tried again to reach for you, but this time you slap his hand away. It wasn't a malicious slap, just one in self-defense, fighting for survival, just like you always did before “Y/N..."

The other two were watching, eyes first shocked, then unreadable. Neither of you notice.

"Y/N, we need to talk. I didn't mean—“

"Sorry." Your voice came out in a weak croak. "Sorry, I didn't know..."

"What?" Soobin looked panicked now. "No, I should be apologizing. Y/N, I'm the one who's sorry—“

"—I thought you were okay with...but I..." You were beginning to walk away even as you reached for the words. Your bleary eyes fixed on the ground— you couldn't bear to look at Soobin, not for another second. "I didn't know you would be so... repulsed. But I should have, of course. Who would want— want me?" You laughed self-deprecatingly, broken tears slipping down your face as what felt like a million knives plunged mercilessly into your heart. You knew it. You always knew this was too good to be true.

Yet you fell for it. Always falling for it.

He never loved you.

No one would ever love you.

You wanted to pick up your feet and run. Soobin was reaching for you again, but you yelled "No, don't touch me! I'm stupid. I was the one who misunderstood. Just don’t touch me."

And finally, you did run.

And Soobin just stared after you, frozen as his world collapsed on him, too.

The ceremony continued, and whatever flicker of hope Cassandra had began to dim. She was bracing herself for a lifetime of longing. She wanted to believe Malcolm would change— that he would fall in love with her— but that belief slipped through her fingers like grains of sand.

batrachian days

The floor smelled musty, and the rug was rough against Luke’s nose, but he didn’t care. His day had been awful. Some days, you just needed to collapse onto the floor. Like a day where, say, you had brought frogs to school in a jar to show the class excitedly, only for them all to get lose, cause chaos, make the teacher comm your aunt and uncle, get a scolding about being eight and being too old for this, and then being brought home and dishonorably discharged into your room. At the thought, Luke’s arm slid from his stomach and dropped onto the floor dramatically.

“Luke,” Leia chirped above him, “Don’t be sad.”

“I’m not sad,” Luke sighed, rolling over onto his belly to find his sister standing above him. Not sad, just done. He thought he’d been prepared for anything, had even dressed for the momentous occasion.

Gazing out the window, he said somberly, “You know, Leia, some days even my lucky spaceship underpants don’t help.”

Leia nodded sagely. It had been a day. And the day wasn’t over yet. Uncle Owen had yet to get back from the fields, and when he did…

“Don’t forget you also have to give him your grade card,” Leia flopped onto the bed. Thoughtfully, she mused, “Maybe we can hide it.”

Luke shuddered on the floor. Leia aced all their classes. Luke did not. Luke tried, he really did. But piloting and droids were a million times more interesting than the Hutts’ family tree. He guessed he could spend more time studying instead of running off to play pilot, but Leia also ran off to play and still breezed to top student every time. Luke groaned. Of course he had to be stuck with a genius sister. Leia was better than him at everything. Luckily, Leia was an ally. Unluckily, even Leia couldn’t outsmart Aunt Beru. Aunt Beru always knew.

He sighed again, mournfully. It was hard being eight and having the weight of the world on your shoulders. Frogs, grades, chores – Luke couldn’t imagine ever having bigger problems. Well…he’d forgotten to add bullies to that list. He scowled. After the frogs had finally all been safe behind jars, Snera had called him Wormie again. The last time, Leia had marched up and punched Snera in the face, but that had led to a quiet discussion with Aunt Beru about ‘propriate responses and being the bigger person. Aunt Beru had said to use words first, but Luke knew that Leia privately thought that some people just needed a good smack. Still, she’d promised Aunt Beru to try. Which meant ignoring Snera, even as he’d taunted Luke.

“Snera sucks.” Leia stretched a rubber band and snapped it across the room viciously. “You shouldn’t let it bother you.” She grabbed another rubber band airily, but Luke could tell she was worried about him. “He’s dumb.”

“Do you remember how much he cried when you yelled at him?” Luke reflected fondly. That had been a good day. Although Leia had nearly gotten suspended. But the twins had agreed in their debriefing later that it had been completely worth it.

Leia scoffed. “Like it was hard.” Luke scrunched his forehead; Leia always found the right words, almost too easily. Aunt Beru didn’t like it when she did that, though

Their conversation was interrupted by a thump at their door, with a gruff voice announcing, “Kids, wash up for dinner. Bring your grade cards.”

Luke met Leia’s eyes, trying not to gulp. He was toast. Uncle Owen sounded like he had had a long day too, probably cause of the hour-long meeting with the teacher the twins hadn’t been allowed in, although they had listened at the door (with no luck; they’d only caught stray words like final warning, whatever that meant). Luke’s card definitely wasn’t going to cheer Uncle Owen up. Their teacher might as well have scrawled a giant red frowny face instead of the grades.  

“We have to hide it,” Leia decided instantly.

“Then what do we say?” Luke hissed from the floor. “We just forgot it at school?”

“No, it blew away accidentally when we walked home,” Leia shot back with the I can’t believe I got a brother this stupid voice that Luke hated. “We’ll have to ask Miss Krandila for a new one. Maybe the test tomorrow will up your grade.”

Luke raised his head in shock. “We have a test tomorrow?!”

“Luke—”  

Before Leia could finish, another thump at the door sounded.

“Dinner time!” Uncle Owen’s voice said that they had better not be late.

Feeling like he was being led to the executioner, Luke squared his shoulders and followed Leia out the door. Aunt Beru was at the table, setting down dishes with a gentle clack as Uncle Owen fell into his seat, looking exhausted. Luke’s eyes narrowed. Uncle Owen seemed worn out, even more than usual. Leia poked him in the side. So she’d noticed too.

“Come, sit,” Aunt Beru smiled. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Uncle Owen shoveled food onto his plate. “Yes. We do.” Frowning over the edge of his plate, he said, “Had to talk to your teacher today. She said you two keep getting into trouble.”

Luke stared at his meal and muttered, “It wasn’t my fault.” Not this time, anyway.

“That’s what I told her.”

Both Luke’s and Leia’s head shot up. Leia chanced a glance at Luke, eyes wary.

Uncle Owen continued sternly. “You should have checked the jars. But this was an accident.” With a heavy look, “I expect you to check in the future, Luke.”

Luke nodded eagerly, misery lifting from his shoulders at the words. “I will!”

Leia didn’t smile, though. Gravely gazing at Uncle Owen, she asked, “What does final warning mean?”

Uncle Owen paused, shared a look with Aunt Beru, and said, “It doesn’t matter.”

“But—”

“It would only matter if you two were bad kids. And you aren’t.” Uncle Owen exhaled. “Too energetic for your own good, yes, but not bad.”

“Our teacher thinks we’re bad,” Leia said crisply, not breaking her gaze. It was a challenge.

“You let me worry about your teacher,” Uncle Owen responded, unruffled by Leia’s stare down. “You two just do your best to behave like you promised your aunt.” Face growing harsh, “Are we clear?”

“Yessir!” The twins chirped in unison. Luke prodded Leia under the table. You okay? Leia kicked him back. Yeah, idiot.

“Time to see your grades.”

Luke slumped. Oh, great.

After a beat of silence, Leia spoke with firm assurance. “Luke lost his card. We’ll have to show you tomorrow.” She looked up at Uncle Owen angelically over her blue milk. Luke watched, fascinated. Leia could be scarily good at whatever she set her mind to.  

Uncle Owen’s shaggy eyebrows shot up. His mouth tightened, and Luke braced himself, but then Aunt Beru spoke merrily.

“You know, I don’t think this is a good time for sharing grade cards anyway. It’s been a long day. Don’t you agree, Owen?”

Uncle Owen looked up and met Aunt Beru’s gaze while the twins watched in fascination. Aunt Beru’s eyes were dancing, and Uncle Beru inhaled, opened his mouth sternly, and then suddenly exhaled with all the fight slumping out of him at once.

“Your aunt is right.” With a hard look, “Tomorrow.”

Luke wanted to sigh in relief. Saved. Aunt Beru always came through. Leia kicked him again under the table gleefully then scraped her chair back with determination.

“We have a test tomorrow we have to study for.” She glanced at Luke, unimpressed. “Especially Luke.”

Humph. Luke guessed he deserved the callout, but also—

“Luke, are you coming?” Leia was already in the doorway, looking over her shoulder impatiently. “We have a lot to do.”

“Yeah,” Luke responded, muttering an excuse me and scampering over to join her. Even as the mournful prospect of studying all evening rose before, he found himself smiling as he heard his aunt and uncle clear the table behind him, talking in low tones.

Things were looking up. Contrary frogs, tests, and bullies might exist, but Luke had a sister, aunt, and uncle to help him face them all. He was basically unstoppable. Especially with Leia. Luke had yet to meet the person to outstubborn her. She’d probably rule the galaxy one day. Besides, even though he had a test, tomorrow was hot chocolate day at lunch. Tomorrow they might learn about frogs again too. Luke liked frogs.

He grinned at the thought as he joined Leia and skipped after her down the hall. Maybe life wasn’t so bad after all.

i feel that as writers, we should seek to emulate the confidence of straight white men. look at the audacity of these fuckers. they’ll give you the dumbest plots, pasty characters or the weirdest dialogue to scorch hell, and they’ll still praise it and defend it to the death. have that kind of faith in your writing; it’s probably better anyway.

Manuscripts don't burn.