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eetherealgoddess · 3 months

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TR: ꨄYANDERE TOXIC BF HEADCANONSꨄ

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Characters are 18+

❦All I gotta say is NEVER try to leave these mfs❦

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Mikey: When you first got together, you honestly had no idea he returned the same feelings as you considering he always wore the same stoic expression whenever you were around. So focused on his family and friends he barely had enough time to spend with you.

Of course, you had no problem with this considering it was not only the beginning of your relationship but better for him to be stuck on family than other lovers. It only became a problem when he didn’t bother to make time with you at all. Not a hang out, date, nothing.

He barely texts and would leave you on delivered quite often. When you tried to initiate quality time, he would either have an excuse or ignore you. He never really showed you off and you doubt anyone would know about you if you hadn’t shown up to one or two meetings.

You wondered why he even accepted your proposal to be his girlfriend in the first place if he didn’t really want you. Finally, tired of everything, you decided to break up with him, face - to - face.

“You’re breaking up with me?” He questions with disbelief. “Yes, Mikey. I do have feelings for you, but this just isn’t working out like I thought it would.” You explained, disappointed with how things turned out.

“You can’t break up with me. I thought you loved me, Y/n. You can’t leave me.” His eyes narrow as he shoves you against the wall. Your eyes widen in shock as your back hits against the hard surface. “M-Mikey, what’s wrong with you? I thought this would be something you wanted!” His hands tighten around your shoulders, nails piercing through the fabric as you wince from the penetration of your skin.

“You’re mine, Y/n.” You had no idea what all he went through to get you to notice him. First, he had to get rid of your ex boyfriend. When threatening him didn’t work, his gang jumped him, beating him to a pulp. Hence the break up text. Honestly, if your ex hadn’t given in, it would’ve been his own death sentence. Next, was ‘accidentally’ meeting you just after the break up, catching you when you’re vulnerable enough to fall for any kind of attention. Third, getting you to chase him by the ‘hot and cold’ behavior. Giving you a little just to give you absolutely nothing in return so you keep yearning for him.

He was so happy when you asked him out, non stop talking about you to all of his friends and family. His plan worked perfectly, until now. “This doesn’t make any sense, Mikey!” You cried out in confusion and slight fear. “It’s not hard, Y/n. I love you and you’re my girlfriend.” He releases you with a smile, gazing at the concerned expression on your face. He gently grabs your hand. “I forgive you.” He brings your hand to his lips and leaves a peck. You begin to question his insanity as well as your own.

Kazutora: “If you actually loved me you’d let it go!” He says, tears threatening to fall out of his eyes as he blocks you from slamming your bedroom door against his face. “If you actually loved me then you wouldn’t have cheated on me, Kazu!” You yell angrily as you wipe your tears. You cross your arms as you glare at your boyfriend who’s about to be your ex.

“I didn’t cheat on you! You’re overreacting! We didn’t even have sex!” You scoff. “So I guess I can just flirt with my exes and then complain about our relationship to them, huh?” He glares with tears in his eyes. “It’s your fault for not paying attention to me, Y/n. I wouldn’t have to ask for affection if you’d give me enough.” He crosses his own arms. You stare back in disbelief.

“Are you seriously trying to make excuses for emotionally cheating on me with your ex?” “It’s not excuses when it’s the truth. I just wished you loved me as much as I love you. You clearly don’t care about me otherwise you’d give me attention.” You hold your hands up. “I’m fucking done.” You say before walking out of the bedroom. His eyes widen as his heart begins to pound.

“Done with what?” He follows after you. “Done with you!” You growl as you grab the doorknob. Before you can open the door, you’re yanked back so roughly that you fall on your ass, staring at the man crawling on top of you and pinning you down as the tears spill out of his eyes.

“Y-you can’t leave me, Y/n. You won’t! I love you so fucking much! If you really loved me, you wouldn’t leave so don’t break my heart. I don’t know what I would do.” You stop yourself from crying with him, gazing at his pretty, pitiful face. No, I can’t fall for it.

“No, get off of me.” You hiss. You furrow your brows as his face becomes stoic with wide wet eyes. He wraps his hands around your neck, your hands grabbing his wrists as he shuts off your air supply. You struggle to breathe as you kick your feet, barely moving under him as you try to shove him off, to no avail.

“Baby, I don’t want to kill you, but if you don’t show me that we can work this out then I’ll have no choice. It’ll be so romantic, you and me. You die by my hands and I die right after so we can lie here together.” You immediately nod your head.

“W-we can!” You croak out, finally gaining a huge breath of oxygen once he releases you and wraps his arms around your body, hugging you tightly. You cough as the tears finally spill.

“Tell me you love me, I need to hear it please.” He cries against your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses up your neck. “I love you.” He rocks you both as he kisses your forehead. “Good. Good. I’m so glad because I love you too.”

Ran: You couldn’t believe how your boyfriend Ran would blatantly flirt with different people in front of your face. It didn’t matter if it was a cashier, waitress, waiter, your friends, his friends, anyone who was around he would begin to flirt with them as you watch angrily. What makes it worse is that, he doesn’t seem to care much when you react. He just gives you that sly smile and says, “You jealous?” Otherwise he’ll pretend he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

At the beginning of your relationship, it didn’t matter so much considering you only just began dating and neither of you knew how serious it would turn out so you didn’t want to be ‘overbearing,’ even though deep down you knew that it’s not you overreacting but it just goes to show how little respect he has for you. Especially since you’re a year into the relationship, and you’re currently on a date with your boyfriend and apparently the waitress who just decided to sit in the same booth.

You missed the way his eyes would peek over to see exactly how you were feeling, finding delight in the fact that you were so bothered over his attention focusing on someone else. It was his own little experiment. Considering he loves attention, specifically from you, it really sends blood to his cock to see your angry face. The fact that you would get so mad that you would yell at him afterwards only turned him on. He gets off to seeing you angry, upset, whatever as long as it’s toward him. And you continuously take it because you can’t get enough of him.

Finally, you shoot up from the table and walk off, walking towards his car. He follows you, hopping into the driver’s seat as you sit with your arms crossed in the passenger’s seat. He begins to drive you to his apartment, holding back his smirk.

“I think we should break up.” His grip on the wheel tightened, his eyes narrowing before he glances at you. “No you don’t.” You turn to him. “You can’t tell me how I feel. Take me to my apartment. I’m tired of your behavior. You wanna flirt with everyone so bad then you can be single.”

There was a moment of silence, a pause of pondering as he stares at the road. This wasn’t a part of the plan. This has never happened before. Usually you let it go after an argument and you both make up in the bedroom. “We’re done, for good.” Something snaps in him, squinting his eyes as he slams on the brakes in the middle of the road, your body thrown against the seatbelt as your eyes widen. You grab onto the door as you look at him. “What the fuck, Ran?”

He then slams on his gas pedal and takes a different turn, taking the interstate and accelerating the speed as his foot presses the gas pedal. “RAN! SLOW DOWN!” You scream in terror as you watch his speed go from 40 to 100 within seconds, only continuing to go higher as he passes the cars, purposefully going lane to lane to make it worse for you.

“Not until you take it back.” You gasp. “Are you fucking crazy? You’re gonna kill us!” He chuckles before frowning and glancing at you. “Doesn’t matter if you don’t take it back.” “Ran, please!” You cry as you see his speed reaching 130. “Take it fucking back, Y/n.” He growls. “I take it back! I take it back! Please, just slow down! I-I made a mistake just, please!” Finally, he gradually slows down, hitting his brakes as you breathe heavily, body still trembling when he finally slows down to five over the speed limit.

“Let’s head home so we can rest, yeah?” You nod your head, gripping the seat as you look ahead.

Rin: You’re so tired of the constant nitpicking of your flaws. You’re tired of receiving insults by the person who’s supposed to love every part of you. You have the understanding that obviously, just stating an opinion or giving critique to something is fine but when someone is just outright picking every single thing they can see wrong with you, it can be overwhelming.

Then when you try to leave they make you feel like you can’t live without them. How can you handle everything on your own when you can’t even handle little things. You’re a bit of a dimwit who can’t do things on your own so how would you be able to survive without the help of your generous boyfriend?

Rin makes you feel like you’re holding him back. He takes the time out of his day to help you out. To be there for you. How could someone like him go out of his way to help someone as low as you? Who else would deal with you. Who else would be there to help and protect you? Who else would be there to look after you because clearly you can’t look out for yourself.

Of course, your friends tell you how it’s all an illusion and he’s manipulating you. You believe them, but you believe him as well. Until, finally you decided that you didn’t want to feel like shit anymore. So you ask him to come to your apartment.

“Rin, I don’t like the way you make me feel. I love you, but I don’t think that this is working out.” One of his eyebrows raise as he leans back in his seat on the chair in the living room, taking a sip of his beverage and readjusting his glasses. “You think I like the way you make me feel? You think you can just use me and leave, Y/n?” Your eyes widen. “N-no! It’s not like that! I never used you.” “Oh? How did you get everything you own now? How did you get the clothes you’re wearing, the money in your bank account, the apartment you couldn’t afford if it wasn’t for me?” He smirks.

You could only stare as you pause in thought. Damn, have I been using him? But I never asked for any help and I was grateful and I truly love him. Have I been so mindless? So unaware? “You really hurt my feelings, babe. How could you do this to me?” He questions, his smirk turning to a stoic gaze. “Rin, it’s not like that, seriously. Look, I just want to be treated better. So we can’t be together anymore.” He sets the cup down, gripping the chair arms as he sits up in his seat, his arms resting on his legs when he releases.

“This isn’t over until I say it’s over. After all, you need me. You should be happy that I’m willing to stay with you after everything you’ve put me through.” “But-!” “Look, I’m going to give you some space to breathe and then we’re going to go on a date. It’s okay, Y/n. Really. I forgive you.” “Rin, I’m serious! I-I’m breaking up with you.”

You yelp as you duck your head just as the glass shatters from the cup, liquid oozing down the wall behind you. You look at him with your mouth agape. He stands up, brushing himself off with a bored look on his face. “I’m gonna pick you up at seven o’clock. Be ready for me, yeah?” He says, giving you a side eyed glance before walking to your front door and walking out, shutting the door behind him as you’re left gazing at the space in front of you in shock.

Sanzu: “Sanzu, I can’t do this anymore. I-I’m not cut out for your kind of lifestyle.” Those were the last words you got to say before you found yourself hiding in the mess of clothes from your closet after you heard the glass shatter from one of the windows in your apartment. You thought a phone call would suffice considering you know how your former boyfriend gets so you could be at a distance.

When the line went dead, you knew that you might’ve fucked up. What you didn’t expect was for him to already be at your apartment. You had no idea why or when he came over but he had been hiding somewhere outside considering the shot rang only seconds after the call. Scared out of your mind, you could barely think, running to your closet knowing that you would be dragged out soon. You accidentally dropped your phone in the living room so you couldn’t call anyone for help.

Somehow you still love this pretty maniac, though you just couldn’t bear with the guilt of knowing that you’re with a murderer. You had only just found out about his body count recently when you got curious enough to look in his phone. At this point you would’ve rather had found him cheating, though you found old files and information on it, realizing that it was actually his work phone. You had no idea he works for Bonten.

He completely lied to you about his whereabouts and place of work. He acted normal, as if he had never killed anyone. How could he be okay with himself? How could you still want him? You fought yourself on whether or not you should pretend you didn’t know anything, which you tried, only for the guilt to eat you alive. Especially when you snooped in his office when visiting his home and saw the terrible ways he murdered the victims. Those same hands touched you every day.

You jolt as you hear the door to your room being kicked off of its hinges. Before you knew it, the closet door swung open revealing the pretty man in all his madness, an angry look on his face. You scream as he shoves all the clothes off of you and snatches you out by the bicep, gun still in one of his hands.

“SANZU PLEASE!” You scream as he throws you on the bed. He crawls on top of you, setting the barrel of the gun to your head while his other hand wraps his fingers around your throat.

“Shh, shh. It’s fine. It’s okay. Just breathe.” He cooed as you listen, breathing heavily as you try to calm down, not wanting to get shot. “You’re so beautiful like this, Angel. Stop crying, okay?” You whimper as you try to hold in your cries, anxiety high as you stare into his crazed eyes. “That’s my good girl.” He smiles.

“You’re gonna keep being good for me, yeah?” You nod your head frantically, tears still falling as you continue to hold in your whines. You wince as the gun cocks, his finger against the trigger. “You didn’t say what I think you said, right? You’re not breaking up with me?” You shook your head. “N-no I’m not, I just freaked out. We’re still together, I swear!” He nods as he removes the gun, though with the weapon still in his hand, he pulls you up by the face and gives you a passionate kiss. Moving his lips against yours as you fearfully kiss him back, his tongue entering your mouth to explore as saliva drips down your chin. He pulls back and leans his forehead on yours.

“It’s good that you know who you belong to.”

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geminitayyt · 4 months

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if you could be any creature, fictional or non-fictional, what would it be?

*hides blank fursona ref sheet*

I always pictured myself as some sort of druid or elf tbh The deer creatures have been something I've gotten used to, that's pretty cute too! I think I'm going to move away from the deer into a different character in season 10 though, to leave behind the cottage core a little bit. I struggle to picture my character as an animal, moreso I think she works closely along side creatures. I'm excited to pick some animals to have nearby me next season. In s8 I had deer, and in s9 I didnt really have pets. Gotta bring back the pets :D I'm leaning towards dragons at the moment

#geminitay

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kdinjenzen · 1 year

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I love Tumblr a lot, but every time I see a bunch of art or posts about a “new trans character” in a show or game or book or whatever, one of three things happen:

1. It’s just a community driven headcanon, not a bad thing at all mind you, but no shreds of it being canon are there.

2. About a week later the creator/company of said series turns out to be one of the biggest haters of queer and BIPOC people ever and currently actively does harm to marginalized communities.

3. It’s an anime character who either looks like or actually is a little girl and googling the character's name brings up the worst shit imaginable and you'll want to bleach your eyeballs after being subjected to it.

And while I said "Tumblr" this really is just "the internet in general" that does this all the time.

Look, I love a good trans headcanon as much as the next "90's kid who grew up in an age where seeing trans people (both irl and in fiction) meant they were subjected to the worst things ever and subsequently made us search for any way to cope with the idea that people in general may not want people like us around" - because heaven knows those got me through some really dark times but...

Y'all...

There's actual trans people making actual trans characters right now. They are out there. Existing. Right now. Creating worlds and characters and desperately hoping you, other trans people, will find their stuff and be happy to see actual trans works by trans people.

And don't tell me "well it's hard to find indie stuff" - because every day I see the most obscure thing or project being found on this website and passed around until it's got a whole culture and language of its own a week later.

Something something "the army has queer rep you gotta do better than that, honey."

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pagannatural · 1 month

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2.09 Croatoan

-my beloved

-The brothers go to Oregon because Sam has a vision of Dean shooting someone who pleads for his life.

-Sam thinks Dean is violent and out of control because of his grief but he’s actually violent and out of control because he’s losing his mind over Sam.

-Sam looks very Scared Little Brother when they realize the town has no phone signal. He stands really close to Dean. Sam is right. I forgot how scary this episode is.

-Sam hesitates to kill the son who had the mom tied up, and Dean berates him. Dean calls the son a “monster” and Sam says “it was a kid.” Dean likes a clean line between monster and human.

-Sam is always the one who comforts the victims and tells people everything will be okay, another way in which his role in the relationship is traditionally feminine. He’s the one women find non-threatening. (And he’s too distracted by Dean to be attracted to them).

-When the mom, Beverly, says “one minute they were my husband and my son and the next they had the devil in them” the camera cuts to Sam and Dean. This line could be Dean describing a blood-drinking Sam: one minute he was my husband and my son and the next he had the devil in him.

-One of the armed men blocking the road out of town asks Dean to get out of the car to “talk a little,” and Dean says “you are a handsome devil but I don’t swing that way, sorry.” It’s easy to forget that in the early 2000s, this kind of throwaway joke on network tv didn’t usually hint at a character’s hidden sexuality, it was just a vaguely biphobic little joke. But I do think there’s a reason it’s here.

The Croatoan virus is a demonic virus spread from blood infection that’s not visible just by looking at someone. So we have a little AIDS parallel. It’s also a similar concept to Sam’s demon blood. His blood represents choice and sin and the human mixed with the monstrous. Blood is also associated with family.

Incest and queerness are taboos that have often been conflated in fiction (and in history), and both have been strongly associated with monstrosity—think predatory sexuality, birth defects, infertility, rejection of the natural order. A desire that’s dangerous and wrong and destructive, that must stay hidden and can only survive in the shadows. The homoerotic incestuous monster hunters are the perfect storm of gothic queer horror.

Whether or not either brother is queer doesn’t affect the plot, and isn’t the point. I can see Dean grappling with being in love with Sam without questioning his sexuality at all. Sam is a category unto himself to Dean, and Sam doesn’t appear bothered about his sexuality aside from his feelings about Dean. But the confluence of these taboos—incest and queerness—with blood is central to the plot of the show and the question of what evil is. Really their love for each other and their shared blood is what saves them, keeps them human.

-Another of my absolute favorite underrated wincest moments is when Beverly is begging for her life from the utility room and Dean asks Sam “are you sure she’s one of them?” Sam barely nods and it’s enough for Dean to shoot her three times point blank. He doesn’t need any more information, just for Sam to nod slightly.

-Sam suggests that they need to leave to warn others of the virus and Dean tells him he has a good point. They respect each other’s input and work together well.

-Duane shows up and the situation becomes very tense. Sam is standing with his whole body facing Dean. In moments of extreme stress, Sam often seeks Dean’s protection rather than focusing on the threat.

-Dean has a gun on Duane with some urgency but Sam says “I gotta talk to you—now” and Dean leaves the room with him immediately.

Sam argues that they should wait and not kill Duane in case he isn’t infected. Dean says “what’s that buy us?”

“A clear conscience, for one.”

“Well it’s too late for that.” Is Dean talking about his guilt over John’s death? Or is this more about his general self hatred around never being enough to be everything for everyone, to give Sam everything that he needs and be the perfect son and soldier and brother and father and mother?

Sam tells him “you don’t act like yourself anymore, Dean. You’re acting like one of those things out there.” Dean does feel lost. He needs Sam to save him so that he can save Sam.

-Sam is so devoted to Dean this season. He spent season 1 gradually giving into his complete trust and commitment to Dean and now he’s been losing him or at risk of losing him in different ways all season. He fights tooth and nail for Dean every step of the way to get him to listen, to talk, to come back to him.

-Dean pushes Sam out of the way and locks him out, aiming to kill Duane. He says “it’s not him, not any more” and “I’ve got no choice.” But then Dean decides not to shoot him.

-When the doctor asks if it’s alright to untie Duane, Dean and Sam seem to have a wordless conversation in which Dean defers to Sam’s judgement, and Sam tells the doctor it’s okay to untie him.

-Sam is Dean’s morality. Dean is submitting to Sam, needing him to help him make the right choice. By doing this he’s also believing in Sam’s ability to stay good.

-Sam says about Dean not killing Duane “you know I’m gonna ask you why.”

Dean replies “yeah I know,” not looking up, focusing on keeping his hands busy making Molotov cocktails.

“So why? Why didn’t you do it?”

Dean looks at Sam with his chin tucked, like it’s hard to meet his eyes. He doesn’t answer. He clears his throat and says “we need more alcohol,” basically asking Sam to leave for a moment so that he can pull it together. He gazes after Sam with this raw, shamed look.

It’s the first of two parallels in this episode to their conversation in 1.19 where Sam says his reticence to date is mostly not about Jessica, and Dean asks “then what is it about?” and Sam just looks at him, implying heavily that it’s about Dean.

The question Dean was asking Sam there was essentially, Why can’t you love anyone else?

The first question Sam asks Dean is why he didn’t kill someone, but it’s also why Dean wants to do the right thing and not lose himself, and the answer is because of Sam.

-After Sam is attacked, he reaches for Dean’s hand to help him up off the floor and then just leaves his hand outstretched after Sarge holds Dean back and tells him Sam is infected. It’s like his muscle memory of reach-out-hand, Dean-pulls-me-up hasn’t caught on.

-The whole time Dean argues with the others about Sam, Sam only looks at the floor or at Dean. He’s not watching the conversation, he’s watching Dean because he’s scared and he looks to Dean when he’s scared.

-Dean says “no one’s shooting my brother”

He’s so protective. He was about to kill someone who might be infected just in case, but when it’s Sam he would simply rather die in a murder suicide and that’s that on that.

-Sam asks for the gun so that he can shoot himself, saying “I’m not gonna become one of those things.” This episode is pure foreshadowing for the end of s5. Sam refuses to become a monster, Dean chooses to stand by him and die rather than kill him. Because of their faith in each other, because they waited, things work out.

-Dean hands over the keys to the impala. He’s not fucking around. He tells the doctor “oh actually we’re not really marshals.” He’s in a truth telling mood, fuck it.

-Sam asks Dean to leave him and keep living, looking at him with incredulity and gratitude and love and fear.

Dean leaving him alone to die or become a monster would fulfill Sam’s deepest fear—left behind, not belonging, because something is wrong with him. But he still asks Dean to go, he throws a fit, he tells him “this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” It reminds me of that scene from Titanic, Jack telling Rose “you’re so stupid” for staying with him instead of saving herself.

He says “it’s over for me, it doesn’t have to be for you.”

“No?”

“No. You can keep going.”

“Who says I want to?”

This scene is so dramatic and romantic. Close shots of their faces, Sam looking up at Dean with his eyes full of tears, begging him. Dean tells Sam he doesn’t want to go on without him.

Sam asks, what?

For a moment it almost looks like he’s taking this as the confession that it is, before Dean puts some distance between them and leans against the wall. This is the second scene is this episode to parallel their conversation in 1.19, this time even more closely.

Sam thinks Dean doesn’t want to go on because their dad died, but Dean says “you’re wrong. It’s not about dad. I mean part of it is, sure, but-“

Sam interrupts to ask “then what is it about?” and Dean gives him this look,

this look of love and tenderness, like he’s willing Sam to understand.

This time Sam’s question is Why don’t you want to live? And the answer is that Dean doesn’t want to live without Sam.

I love how this scene makes clear that Sam’s romantic partners compare directly to Dean. It confirms what Sam was thinking about in 1.19, because for these scenes to rhyme they must have been thinking about each other.

-The brothers share a romantic beer at the lake. Sam asks Dean what he was talking about last night in a way that honest-to-god sounds like he’s referring to pillow talk. Dean doesn’t want to tell so Sam keeps pushing, but their tones are teasing and light. They really sound like they’re flirting. Dean suggests that they go to the Grand Canyon.

Sam keeps questioning him, gentle but insistent, as Dean talks about taking a break.

-Where is our Grand Canyon episode?

-Sam looks so scared when Dean says John told him something about Sam before he died. I wonder what’s running through his head. There’s this feeling that people with Sam’s negative core belief often get, which is a fear that something is deeply wrong or rotten in them and that eventually other people will find out. He’s probably thinking that’s finally happened.

#samdean #supernatural #spn meta #wincest #spn 2x09

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w1ldthoughts · 2 months

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Home Sweet Home

Anon Requested

Disclaimer: this is a work of FICTION, the characters are fictionalized versions of real life situations and real people. It’s all based on my imagination.

Masterlist

It was your favorite time of year. Football and preschool was over for the year and Justin hadn’t reached the point where he was ready to head back to California for workouts, because OTAs were coming up. He opted to stay in Oregon with you and Remi, presumably until baby number two decided to make their appearance. You got to sleep in, lounge around a lot more than you ever would during the season and still try to keep up with your hyperactive daughter.

You sat up in bed, finding the spot next to you cold, and gingerly walked downstairs to see what was going on.

“Morning mama!” She runs up to you to give your body a squeeze, anywhere she can reach.

“Careful mini,” Justin warns, “we have to be gentle with mama remember?”

She nods and holds her arms up. Justin is about to pick her up but you tell him you’ve got her. He gives you a look but you wave him off, letting Remi attach herself to your shoulder as you run your hand down her back. It’s like she subconsciously knows that she’s not going to be an only child anymore and is savoring every moment.

“How was your sleep, sweets?” You ask her when she picks her head up.

“Too short.” She whines.

“I hear you cupcake,” you laugh at her struggle. “What do you say we take a nap today?”

“No thank you.” She says with a laugh and Justin joins in, shaking his head and saying “of course”. Her napping days are probably over. You set her down and she walks off, into the living room to do whatever her heart desires.

Justin looks at you with a warm smile, sleep still lacing his features, reminding you of a tiny human that just left the room. It takes him about two steps before he’s standing inches away from you, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips. “How are you feeling this morning?” The concern in his tone isn’t missed, it’s been there since about month six, when your center of gravity changed significantly.

“How am I feeling? Large and…not very in charge.” The joke gets you a pity laugh and a forehead kiss.

Before you can even ask he turns away to grab a glass of water and your prenatal vitamins and you swallow the lump in your throat, not wanting to cry first thing in the late morning. Something about seeing Justin in dad and/or caretaker mode just really made you understand how you got here in the first place. You never had to ask for the dishes to be done or the trash to be taken out. If Remi needed something, it was done, especially now that he felt like you were going to pop at any moment.

“Are you sure you’re up for this today? I mean we can always ask them to come over, I can throw something on the grill and we don’t have to go anywhere.”

He saw you reaching for the chair and pulled it out for you, “as much as I know you’re dying to use that Traeger today, I feel great. And it’ll be that much better if we bring the gift to your parents instead of them coming to us.”

“Fine,” Justin sighs. “But you promise to let me know if you’re feeling off or tired or anything, okay?”

“Yes, I will let you know immediately.”

He gives you a look like he knows you’re not being serious and kneels down to talk to your belly. “You better not be in there giving your mom a hard time because we both know she’s not going to say anything. So you’ve gotta be on your best behavior all day. Can you do that for me?”

A thumpy kick on the left side of your stomach makes you laugh. The baby actually responded like they were having a conversation. “I love when that happens,” He beams at you.

“When what happens?”

“When you laugh, your belly moves up and down. It’s crazy that there’s a person in there,” he notes. “And I definitely think they heard me and are going to do what I said.” He places a hand across your protruding front and waits for another series of kicks, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest at the movement.

You should’ve known this would happen. Anytime you left the house, it was like your husband was preparing for war. The baby bag was packed and placed in the trunk, Justin decided to add an extra onesie, “just in case.” Remi has her overnight bag ready to go and he made sure that your stuff and his were triple checked with his extensive checklist.

Remi sighed, sitting on the couch next to you, watching her dad bring down the last bag. She tapped you on the arm and you leaned down to let her whisper in your ear. “Are we going to Mimi and Papa’s today? Daddy is taking a very long time.”

“He is sweets but daddy is just making sure we’re ready in case the baby decides to come.”

She looks between you, the door and then your belly. “Baby not coming today, promise.”

“I hope you’re right sister. Let go sit in the car so he knows we’re tired of waiting.”

The drive to his parent’s house wasn’t far and Remi was practically jumping out of her car seat to get to the door and run into Mark’s arms.

“Hi Papa! I missed you.” She giggles as he squeezes her tight after scooping her off the ground.

“Look at you peanut, it’s like you’re twice as big every time I see you!”

She bursts into another fit of laughter when he tickles her, bringing her into the house. “I wanna be big and strong like daddy. To play football.”

You laugh at her confession, nudging Justin. “Your daughter wants to be an NFL quarterback.“

“If that’s what she wants then I’m going to do everything in my power to make that happen,” he hums, placing a hand at the small of your back to steady you as you walk through the door.

Remi is already making her rounds, giving hugs to Holly and Patrick and giving them the rundown of everything that’s happened in her life like she hasn’t seen them in years when in reality it’s only been a couple weeks. Somewhere along the way she convinces Patrick to take her to the park, creating the perfect opportunity to present Justin’s parents with their gifts.

“So the two of you are having a baby, but you’re bringing US gifts?” Holly quips from her spot on the couch.

“We wouldn’t be able to be do this without you,” you assure them, “between you guys and my parents, we owe you lots of presents.”

Justin nods quietly, feeling a smile reach up to his ears. “She’s right I mean, you guys have always been there for me but now, having a family of my own I appreciate you all even more. So this is just a little something as a token of our endless appreciation.”

He grabs the box and hands it to his dad, sitting back down to watch them open it. Holly’s eyes well up with tears almost instantly, before she’s even opened the book.

“It’s a memory book, I know you guys love pictures and you can keep everything in one place and look back on it as many times as you want. And obviously the blanket is yours to keep.”

“There is a little surprise on the first page of the book that I think you should take a look at.” Justin chimes in.

His mom tentatively opens it, gasping and running her hand over the page.

“Are you—are you pulling my leg? Is this real?” You’ve only seen Mark tear up a handful of times but you knew this was special. You even caught Justin wiping a tear away as he nodded.

“There’s no better man in the world than you dad. So why not set my son up for success by naming him after the greatest man I’ve ever known?”

Mark stands up and wraps him up in a hug that spoke volumes. You and Holly stood next to them arm in arm, wiping at your own tears. “This is incredible, we can’t thank the two of you enough. This is so special.”

“Camden Mark Herbert, how about that?” Mark says, patting his son on the back and giving him another hug.

There’s nowhere else you’d rather be than in this in moment with them and you wished that you could keep this feeling in your heart forever. Just goes to show…there’s no place like home.

#Justin Herbert #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert x reader #Justin Herbert fanfic #Justin Herbert fluff

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claudemblems · 1 year

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Bookish Romance | Malleus + Leona Headcanons

Summary: How Malleus and Leona act with an s/o that loves to read and go shopping for books

Notes: I only just finished the Savanaclaw chapter but that's not going to stop me from writing for Malleus

Malleus Draconia

Finds you unbelievably adorable.

Though he doesn't quite understand how fictional stories can make you so excited, he's just glad to see you have something that makes you so happy.

"Child of Man, could you tell me what you find so fascinating about these stories? I wish to know what exactly intrigues you. Perhaps, if it is within my power, I can recreate the scenes with you."

100% turns into his dragon form just so you can soar through the sky on him like the characters in your fantasy novel. What, you didn't expect him to do this for you? Don't you know how much Malleus Draconia, crown prince of Briar Valley, is willing to make all of your dreams come true?

He'll even rope the rest of the dorm into these reenactments. You need princes fighting for your hand in marriage? Good thing Diasomnia has 3 other willing members! (They didn't actually get a say in all of this).

It's a bit embarrassing for them, but they don't mind it too much. The boys adore you, and they'll do anything to see you and Malleus smile. Sebek and Silver will still insist they're only doing it for their young master, though (they're just shy okay).

If there's a certain book you can't find or that has gone out of print, Malleus ensures that you WILL get it no matter what. If that means using his royal title and demanding a publishing house to make an extra copy just for you, he won't hesitate to do so.

You've tried to keep yourself from mentioning you want things now because they keep mysteriously showing up at your door. You appreciate Malleus' thoughtfulness, but you know he drives his staff crazy; they're the ones who have to fetch your gifts on his behalf.

Malleus truly has no impulse control when he wants to spoil you, which is all the time.

He LOVES when you cuddle up next to him by the fireplace and read your books aloud to him. The stories are always entertaining, but more than anything, he just enjoys listening to your voice.

Even better if you fall asleep on him in the middle of it. It makes his heart flutter in his chest every time.

He'll quietly carry you back to your room, careful to mark the place in your book where you stopped before giving you a kiss on the forehead, bidding you goodnight.

He wonders if you'd like to have him read stories to you, too. Perhaps you'd like to hear a classic fairytale. He knows a delightful one about fairies and sleeping princesses.

Leona Kingscholar

Oh no, he's got it bad for you.

He's not really into reading books that much himself, but there's something so heartwarming watching how your eyes light up when you spot your favorite series in a bookstore or how you make grabby hands trying to reach a volume from the top shelf.

You're ridiculously cute. He won't admit it to you, but it's blatantly obvious to everyone else.

He will, however, tease you relentlessly.

He has no problem grabbing the book you want and holding it above your head, just far enough out of reach, a smug smirk on his face.

"You've gotta work to get it, Herbivore." "Just give me my book, Leona!!! 😠"

The angry pout you give him makes his heart go all soft and mushy. Who gave you the right to be so adorable? It only spurs on his teasing side even more, if only just so he can look at your adorable expressions.

His favorite thing besides napping is watching you ramble on about the plot of a book or your favorite characters. You get so animated when you talk and he can visibly see the joy beaming on your face. He's so used to dry conversations with other people that he isn't used to someone talking so earnestly with him, or rather, excitedly rambling about nonsensical things. It's intoxicating.

You'll be several minutes into your tangent when you look over and see Leona, head resting in his hand, gazing at you with the fondest smile you swear you've ever seen him wear.

Your heart can't help but skip a beat at the sight. Is this how he looks at you when you're too lost in your own world to notice? The thought makes your cheeks flush.

"Herbivore, you didn't finish telling me about what happened next. You can't just leave me on a cliffhanger like that."

And once again, your eyes are shining with delight as you continue gushing over your favorite book. Leona can't hold back his growing smile, no matter how hard he tries.

Out of all the herbivores he's met in his lifetime, you are truly the most endearing of them all.

#[kat writes]#twst #twst x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader

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kwanisms · 4 months

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🎄 Tales from Camp Holiday Special 08 🎄

«« previous | masterlist | next »»

➮ professor!Jihoon × fem!Reader wc: 8.3k summary: Jihoon attends Seungkwan's choir event and runs into Y/N. At her insistence, they meet up for drinks after the show. genres/themes/au: angst (but only a bit lol), fluff, smut; holiday themes; non idol au, music teacher au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, mentions of abusive past, mention of abusive from parent, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist: @yoonguurt @wonw00t @aikisbbq @enhacolor @duchesskaren @sherituhhh @wonderfulshinee @gaebestie @drunk-on-dk @seokgyuu @salty-for-suga @aaniag @dnylwoo @1004luvangel join my taglists: main | TFC: Holiday Special closed! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: Jihoon’s probably has the most angst in his piece of any of these special or original pieces. He’s been very regretful in the aftermath of his story and has wanted things with MC to go further but let things slip out of his grasp. So this is a redemption arc for him. A second chance at a happy ending with MC. Thank you so much for reading and if you like this piece, please reblog as it really helps! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: protected sex (do this. Use protection), oral (f receiving, m receiving), switch!Jihoon, switch!Reader, multiple orgasms (m receiving, f receiving), praise (f receiving), body worship (f receiving), biting/marking (f receiving), use of pet names (mainly babe and baby), slightly possessive!Jihoon, Jihoon kinda nuts early on lol but he makes up for it, lowkey highkey lovemaking, and I think that’s all but as always let me know if I missed any!

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“I’m telling you, Jihoon, they’re demons! Every last one of them!”

Jihoon rolled his eyes as he opened his door, arms full of grocery bags.

As he entered, his roommate Soonyoung glanced over the back of the couch at him, pausing his game on the big screen. “You need help?” Soonyoung called, setting the controller down. Jihoon nodded as best he could with his phone squished between his ear and his shoulder.

Soonyoung vaulted over the couch, quickly taking one of the leavy bags from Jihoon, allowing him to grab his phone before it fell as Seungkwan continued to whine about his students over the phone. Soonyoung set the bag in his arms on the counter before moving to take the other one, something Jihoon was extremely grateful for.

“Are you listening to me?” Seungkwan asked suspiciously. “Yeah, I’m listening, Kwan,” Jihoon replied. “I’m sure the kids aren’t that bad. You’ve got help, right?” Jihoon asked, as he and Soonyoung started pulling the contents of the bags out and putting them away.

“Yeah, thankfully,” Seungkwan said softly. Jihoon felt the corners of his lips twitch. “Has Molly finally stepped up?” he asked. Seungkwan made an impatient noise on the other end. “It’s not Molly,” he replied. “It’s someone else but they’ve been nothing short of a godsend or whatever the phrase is.”

Jihoon let out a laugh as Soonyoung looked at him with a brow raised. “Look,” Jihoon said. “I’m glad you got help. That’s important. But I really gotta go. I have groceries to put away.”

Seungkwan whined on the other end. “You’re still coming to the show, right?”

Jihoon hummed thoughtfully in response. “You know I am.”

“And Soonyoung?”

Jihoon glanced at his roommate who seemed to have caught on and shook his head. Jihoon narrowed his eyes on his roommate. Looks like he’d have to endure Seungkwan’s panicked fretting on his own.

“No, he has a prior engagement. He apologizes heavily and promises to take you out for barbecue to make up for it,” Jihoon said, a smirk drawing on his face as Soonyoung glared at him, threatening to hit him with a raised hand.

“Hmm, I guess that’s okay,” Seungkwan said in response. “I’ll see you tomorrow night then.”

“Until tomorrow,” Jihoon said before hanging up and setting his phone on the counter.

“I can’t believe you offered me up like that!” Soonyoung grumbled as he took over emptying the contents of the bag Jihoon had been pulling from. “I love that guy but goddamn he worries over the littlest things,” Jihoon groaned, rubbing his temples as Soonyoung finished putting the groceries away.

“I can’t believe he agreed to do the show alone,” Soonyoung said, shaking his head. “He got help, apparently,” Jihoon offered, remembering Seungkwan’s slight evasiveness on the subject. “Must be someone he doesn’t want us to know about. He didn’t really explain much other than saying it wasn’t his coworker.”

Soonyoung narrowed his eyes. “You think he’s seeing someone?” Jihoon shrugged.

“I dunno,” he answered. “It’s possible.”

The rest of the day, Jihoon spent in his office, going over his students’ assignments. He’d been working as a music theory professor ever since finishing his education and even though he wasn’t actively making music, it was still a good job and he loved it.

It also allowed him to work on his music on the side.

Soonyoung had found work as a choreographer and quickly made a name for himself which allowed the pair to rent a decent apartment in the more expensive part of the city. Soonyoung wasn’t a bad roommate either. He was funny, helpful, and he kept his spaces tidy and always cleaned up after himself, something Jihoon had instilled in him during their college years.

The next morning, Soonyoung challenged Jihoon to a game of Mario Kart and the two spent the morning and part of the afternoon playing video games before Jihoon checked his watch.

“I better start getting ready. Seungkwan will have my head if I’m late to the show,” he explained. Soonyoung grabbed Jihoon’s wrist, checked the time, and grumbled, setting his controller on the coffee table and getting up. “I promised Daniel I’d come help set up for the party,” he said as he started for the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

All Jihoon had to do to get ready was shower and change. He exited his room almost an hour later to find Soonyoung dressed and turning off the console and TV. “How late you think you’ll be?” Jihoon asked, looking up at his friend.

Soonyoung hesitated as he struggled to put his watch on. “Uh…” he trailed off.

“I’m not sure,” he answered. We’re supposed to get some more snow tonight, aren’t we?”

Jihoon glanced out the window, the city blanketed in a layer of white from last night. “Yeah,” he replied. “I think so.” Soonyoung managed to fasten his watch and turned to Jihoon. “Then if the snow gets bad, I might stay at Daniel’s,” he answered. Jihoon nodded as he walked over to the door, slipping on his shoes. He grabbed his coat from the closet as Soonyoung joined him.

“That would probably be the best option. Don’t need you crashing your car,” Jihoon replied as he checked to make sure he had everything. His phone, keys, wallet, coat. He opened the door, Soonyoung following him as he pulled on his own coat.

The pair made their way to the elevator and waited for it in silence, Soonyoung texting someone on his phone. Jihoon pulled his own phone out of his pocket and checked his messages. Seungkwan had texted him in a slight panic but the crisis seemed to have been averted.

The ride down to the parking garage was also silent, Soonyoung still texting who Jihoon could only assume was Daniel. Jihoon focused instead on the lit up button on the wall by the door until the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal the dark parking garage.

“I’ll see you later,” Jihoon said as they stepped out of the lift and started in opposite directions. “Have fun with Seungkwan,” Soonyoung called, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Have fun at the party,” Jihoon called, turning to look at Soonyoung’s retreating back.

“And absolutely no bringing any girls home!”

Soonyoung simply waved, showing he heard him before reaching his car. Jihoon turned back around and reached his own car, unlocking the driver’s door and sliding into the black leather interior. He turned the car on, plugging the address of the venue to his gps and turned on some soft background music.

Seungkwan lived and worked about a couple hours drive outside of the city, preferring to be in the suburbs rather than the density of the city. Jihoon didn’t blame him and if he could afford the time to commute, he’d probably live outside the city too but his work was here in the heart of downtown.

The drive seemed to fly by and soon, Jihoon was pulling up to the location, pulling into a parking space and cutting the engine. Seungkwan had explained that the show was part of a larger event, a winter festival of sorts. It seemed to be a pretty large affair as well.

As he got out of the car, the sound of holiday music drifted towards him. There were lots of lights and displays. The scent of grilled food reached him and Jihoon suddenly found himself glad he came as he’d forgotten to stop and grab food on the way.

He paid for his entry ticket and made his way into the area, looking around at all the stalls of food, games, and even a few rides. Jihoon made his way past the stalls of food, ignoring the growling of his stomach to head to the building, following the flow of the crowd.

His eyes caught sight of someone familiar. His stomach churned, heart pounding in his chest as he could have sworn he’d seen… ‘Y/N?’ Jihoon tried to squeeze through the crowd, trying to keep his eyes on the figure but by the time he managed to reach the spot he’d seen the figure standing, it was gone.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ he told himself, looking around. ‘There’s no way it’s her.’

Jihoon continued towards the building, trying to put everything behind him and at the back of his mind.

Inside what he could only assume to be the gymnasium, Jihoon noticed how it had been turned into an auditorium. He walked across the wooden floor, memories of gym class flooding his memories but he pushed them away as he spotted Seungkwan across the room speaking to someone Jihoon didn’t recognize. She was wearing a green dress and a green hat to match.

Jihoon watched with amusement as she snatched Seungkwan’s hat off his head and pulled hers off to put his hat on instead before depositing her hat in his hands. Jihoon started to walk over, curious as to who the woman helping his friend was and how Seungkwan knew her.

About halfway across the gym, Seungkwan caught sight of him and waved, making his way over quickly.

“You made it!” Seungkwan said, sounding relieved. Jihoon fought the urge to laugh, opting to nod instead before he peered around Seungkwan at the woman in the green dress who was now sitting at the piano, reading over the sheet music.

“Who’s your friend?” Jihoon asked, nodding towards her. Seungkwan glanced back and Jihoon could have sworn he saw his friend’s cheeks turn slightly pink before Seungkwan cleared his throat. “I’ll introduce you after the show,” he said dismissively.

“We’re going to be starting soon, so go find a seat,” Seungkwan instructed, gesturing to the seats that had been set up. He made his way over, choosing a seat a few rows back and on the end. He looked around, inspecting the room as more people flooded in.

Slowly, the seats filled up, leaving a few empty ones scattered around. Jihoon watched as Seungkwan’s students filed in slowly, taking one of the reindeer antler headbands Seungkwan and his friend handed them before waiting to go on stage.

“Excuse me, is that seat taken?” a soft voice asked Jihoon, making him tense up.

He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

He turned his head slowly, looking up to find you staring back at him. ‘No fucking way.’

Your face conveyed the surprise he felt as realization dawned on you. “Oh my god, Jihoon?” you asked softly. He nodded, getting to his feet. “It’s open,” he said awkwardly, gesturing to the seat next to him. You chuckled slightly, moving to take a seat and settling in as Jihoon sat back down.

“Sorry,” Jihoon said suddenly. “How are you?”

You smiled as you removed your scarf. “I’m good,” you replied. “How about you?”

Jihoon hesitated. How had he been?

When he told his friends about the time you spent together at camp, he’d never told them what happened afterwards. How he’d wanted more out of that summer; more with you. He missed his chance though when summer came to a close and school started again.

The following summer, he never saw you again. He’d been beating himself up over ever since, wondering if or when he’d ever see you again and under what circumstances he might. He never actually expected to see you again.

The first couple years after the summer you didn’t return had been awful for him. He’d been so hung up on you that he couldn’t even look at anyone else so he didn’t even try. Soonyoung was always asking why he didn’t date but Jihoon couldn’t bring himself to tell his friend that he was most definitely still in love with you.

“Jihoon?” you asked, pulling him from his thoughts. ‘Stop thinking. It doesn’t matter anymore.’

“I’ve been alright,” he lied. “Just been working.”

You smiled as you settled back against your seat. “Yeah? What kind of job is Lee Jihoon working now?” you asked with a smirk. “I always saw you as a band director or something.” Jihoon chuckled, looking away from your face and down at his hands as he twiddled his thumbs.

“I’m actually a music theory professor in the city,” he answered. He hesitated, waiting for your response.

“No shit? That’s so cool, Ji,” you said, excitement in your voice. He finally brought himself to look up to meet your gaze. “What about you?” he asked. “What are you doing now?” You grimaced, looking down at your hands this time. “I ended up changing my major,” you admitted.

Jihoon’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait, is that why you never came back to camp?” he asked softly. You glanced up quickly at him. The two of you stared at one another before you finally answered. “No,” you said softly. “I stopped attending camp for another reason,” you said softly.

Before Jihoon could ask anything else, the audience started to clap and the lights dimmed. He looked forward just in time to see the kids climbing the steps onto the stage and then moving onto the riser. He could see Seungkwan’s friend taking a seat at the piano while Seungkwan waited for the rest of the students to get on stage before ascending the few steps and moving to the front.

Jihoon turned to look at you, leaning in. “After the show, will you stay? So we can talk?” he whispered. You nodded, whispering back a yes before the show started.

╾───────────────────⭒✧⭒──────────────────╼

Jihoon wasn’t sure why Seungkwan had been so nervous about the show. It went by smoothly. He found himself actually thoroughly enjoying it as he watched the kids sing and do their small little dances on the riser. It reminded him of when he was in choir as a kid.

After the last song, the audience applauded, Seungkwan motioning for the kids to bow before thanking his friend for filling in as the pianist at the last minute. The lights came up and Jihoon got to his feet, turning to look at you as you stood, grabbing your bag and pulling your coat back on.

“I need to go see my friend real quick,” he explained. “Seungkwan, the conductor, is a friend of mine. That's kind of why I’m here.” You nodded and gestured for him to go. “I’ll follow,” you said smiling. As you followed, your phone rang and you answered it quickly, keeping your voice down.

Jihoon found Seungkwan standing at the base of the stage, talking to what Jihoon assumed was one of his students’ parents. As he approached, Seungkwan excused himself, smiling at Jihoon before noticing you. Jihoon glanced back and then turned to Seungkwan. “Seungkwan, this is Y/N,” he introduced.

“Y/N, this is Seungkwan.” You looked at him, lowering your phone briefly to offer a kind smile. “Nice to meet you, Seungkwan,” you said politely. Seungkwan nodded before looking at Jihoon as you turned away, continuing your conversation. Jihoon couldn’t tell what was being said but you didn’t look happy.

“I have someone I want to introduce you to as well,” Seungkwan said, motioning for Jihoon to follow him. “Funny how you’ve just introduced me to the woman from your camp story,” he continued softly, leading the way over to the piano and the woman in the green dress.

Jihoon’s eyes widened as Seungkwan glanced back at him. He must have noticed the look in Jihoon’s eye because he immediately followed it with “if I can’t ask, neither can you.”

You followed behind Jihoon as he and Seungkwan walked to the other side of the stage. Your mother had been calling all throughout the show and you were only now able to take her call.

“I told you I’m not going to be visiting tonight,” you said under your breath. “I have plans.”

“You always have plans. You’re always busy,” your mother snapped. “Too busy to spend time with your family.”

You held back the urge to snap at her. It had been like this ever since you left home. Moving out as soon as you were able to. Living with your mother and stepfather had been… hell. A lot of your adult life had been spent attending therapy to undo the years of abuse.

Now that you weren’t financially dependent on them, you were trying to distance yourself before going no contact but it was difficult. She was still your mother after all.

“I’m out with a friend right now,” you said calmly. You didn’t have time for this nor did you want it to ruin your night, not when things were going so well. “Goodnight, mother.”

Before she could respond, you hung up and put your phone on Do Not Disturb mode. You looked up as Jihoon was speaking to Seungkwan, the pianist looking at you with a kind smile on her face. One you returned before Jihoon glanced at you.

“Sorry Kwan,” Jihoon said softly. “But I’ve got plans.” You noticed how his friend gave him a knowing look and Jihoon turned towards you. “Come on,” he said softly. “Are you hungry?” he asked as he led you towards the exit. You nodded. “I could eat.”

“Perfect,” Jihoon said with a smile. “I’m starving.”

Outside the gymnasium, the food stalls were still selling food. Jihoon led the way over to one, looking at the menu before asking what you wanted. After perusing the menu for a moment, the two of you settled on some eomuk, tteokbokki, and soondae.

You grabbed two waters from the vendor and followed Jihoon over to one of the tables he’d managed to snag. “I haven’t had soondae in so long,” he commented as he handed you a pair of chopsticks. Soondae wasn’t your favorite food but it went well with the tteok so you weren’t complaining.

“So,” Jihoon finally said after a moment of sampling the food. “What were you saying before the show? You changed your major?” he asked. You nodded, chewing on your bite of tteokbokki before swallowing. “Yeah. I switched from music to nutrition,” you answered.

Jihoon’s brows rose. “That’s quite the switch,” he said. “What made you change?”

You hesitated, wondering if you should tell him the truth. The one thing you remembered most about him was that he never judged you when you talked before. He never once made you feel like you couldn’t tell him anything. He’d always provided you with a judgment free safe space.

So you decided to come clean.

“My home life wasn’t exactly the best,” you started, watching as he stabbed a piece of fishcake with a toothpick. “My father died when I was a kid and mom remarried. Mom wasn’t always the… nicest person to be around but it only got worse after dad died. She got even meaner. And her new husband… he was just as bad as she was.”

You hesitated, taking a sip of water before continuing your story.

“I won’t bore you with the details but there was a lot of gaslighting, manipulation, and other similar tactics they used to try and guilt me into doing the things they wanted. When I went off to college, I realized that I wouldn’t have to live with them forever so I focused on trying to do what I loved and making a career out of it.”

Jihoon said nothing, letting you continue without interruptions.

“But I realized that making a career out of music wasn’t easy. And I didn’t want to have to go back to that house. It would make leaving that much harder. So I changed majors. Starting a course for nutrition, knowing I could land a job right out of college with it. But that meant I had to take less arts courses. Which also included band.”

You tried to mask the pain in your voice but Jihoon could apparently still hear it, taking that moment to reach out and place his hand over yours. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “You shouldn’t have had to make that kind of choice.” You looked up, giving him a small smile. “Thank you,” you said softly, placing your other hand over his. “It sucked but I actually love my job now,” you added.

“It’s not music, but I still love where I work and what I do.”

The conversation shifted after that and once you’d eaten, Jihoon found himself asking if you needed a ride home and you thankfully took him up on his offer. The ride was mostly silent except for you giving him directions softly over the sound of the music that played in the background.

“I can’t believe you took a cab two hours out of the city to go to the festival,” he said as he reached the outskirts of the city. “Well, had I known we lived in the same city and you were coming,” you started, giving him a smile. Jihoon chuckled lightly, resting his hand on the console.

You turned your head to look out your window, your hand resting on your thigh. He was tempted to reach over and take your hand. You’d let him hold it as you walked around the festival, looking at the light displays and ice sculptures and it reminded him of when you’d sneak into his tent and the two of you would lay tangled up on his cot, talking for hours and he would play with your hands, tracing the lines on your palm and lacing his fingers with yours mindlessly.

Going against his better judgment, Jihoon took your hand in his, grateful you didn’t pull away but instead embraced his touch, tracing patterns into the back of his hand with your fingers. Jihoon said nothing, instead enjoying your light touches.

As he pulled up to your building, he felt his heart sink. This was it. He didn’t know when he’d get to see you again, if at all. As he was prepared to say goodbye and possibly ask for your number, you turned to him, giving him a smile.

“Thank you for the ride,” you said softly. Jihoon smiled back. “You’re welcome. And thank you for staying behind and spending some time with me. It made the trip out there a lot more worth it.” He noticed the way your eyes flickered down and back up but before he could even get so much as a word out, you leaned across the console.

Jihoon reacted before he had time to think, meeting you in the middle, one hand moving to the back of your neck as your lips crashed against his. He heard you whine into the kiss, lips parting and tongue slipping into his mouth.

Jihoon didn’t want the moment to end but his lungs started begging for air and he reluctantly pulled back, panting as did you, resting your forehead against his. Neither one of you said anything as you tried to catch your breaths. Finally you broke the silence.

“You want to come up?” you asked softly. Jihoon sighed, pulling back to look at you, hand moving to cup your cheek.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Jihoon pulled into a parking space on the street, getting out before pulling your door open for you and helping you out. You led the way, your hand in his as you pulled him through the lobby and past the concierge desk. The ride up to the elevator, you kept a firm grip on his hand and it was only once you were inside your apartment that Jihoon lost his composure.

You let out a giggle as he kicked the door shut with a little more force than necessary. “Sorry,” he murmured, hands moving to your sweater and pulling it up. You helped him by removing your coat and letting it fall to the floor before lifting your arms as he pulled your sweater off over your head.

“Come here,” he murmured, pulling you closer as you tried to lead him through the apartment, giggling as he tried to stop you from moving. “Stop moving,” he whined. You pulled back to look at him. “Do you want to fuck me here or in the bedroom?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jihoon’s brow furrowed as he looked at you before cupping your face in his palm, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “I don’t want to fuck you, Y/N,” he whispered, eyes scanning your face. Your own brows knitted together in confusion as you stared back at him leaning in, lips inches from yours.

“I want to make love to you.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, the urge to turn and hide your face from him nearly winning except he pulled you into a kiss. “Last time we did this, it ended up going nowhere,” he continued in between kisses as he guided you backwards through your apartment in the direction he had hoped was your room. “I don’t want this time to be just meaningless sex.”

You nodded, following his lips as he pulled back to look at you. “Y/N,” Jihoon said, taking your face in his hands so he could hold you in place and look in your eyes. “I mean it,” he added. “I don’t want this to be just another hook up.. I want this to mean something.” You nodded, looking back at him.

“I know,” you confirmed. “I heard you. I want it to mean something, too.”

Jihoon hesitated, making sure he heard you correctly. “Wait, really?” he asked.

You nodded, leaning in to kiss him. “Yes,” you murmured against his lips. “I do, but I also really want you right now,” you added, pulling him to the door of your room, passing the other doors entirely. Jihoon stopped you before you could open the door, taking both your hands in his. “So if we do this, you’ll let me take you on dates? We can spend time at each other’s places, watch movies, make dinner together?” You smiled, chuckling softly at the potential memories you could make.

“Yes,” you said with a nod. “We can do all of that but right now,” you continued, pulling a hand from his to push open your bedroom door. “I really need your cock inside me.” Jihoon let out a sound like a mix between a growl and a groan, his hand finding its way to the back of your neck and pulling you into a kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

The two of you stumbled into your room, somehow managing to not break the kiss until the back of your legs bumped into your bed. Jihoon wasted no time in pushing you back onto the mattress. Before he could follow, you held him in place by the hips before moving your hands to undo the button and zipper of his pants. You felt his hand cup your chin, tilting your head back.

“You don’t have to do that,” he started. You smiled up at him, lips parting slightly as his thumb brushed over your bottom lip. The tip of your tongue peeked out to taste his thumb and soon he had it in your mouth, pressing against your tongue as you pulled his pants and underwear slowly down, taking your time. You’d forgotten how big he was as his cock sprang free once you’d pulled his underwear down far enough. You continued to push them down before wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock.

Jihoon let out a low hiss as you squeezed him. He pulled his thumb from your mouth, hand moving to the back of your head. “Make it quick,” he said in a low tone, his voice shaky. “Wanna be inside you.”

You opened your mouth, jaw falling slack as he guided your head towards him, the tip of his cock resting against your tongue. He groaned as he pushed your head further, filling your mouth. He kept pulling your head closer under all of his cock disappeared in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he rasped out, his breath still shaky despite his attempts to even it. You pulled back only for him to pull you back closer, setting a steady rhythm as he used your mouth. The only sounds that could be heard were the wet sounds of his cock hitting the back of your throat and his strained groaning.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of his hot cock on your tongue and the salty taste of his precum mixed with your saliva which had started to spill out of your mouth, falling onto your bare chest. Jihoon let out a particularly low groan, forcing his cock into your mouth, the head squeezing into your throat as he came unexpectedly, his cum spilling down your throat.

Thinking quickly on your feet (or not in this case as you were sitting down), you swallowed all of it.

“Fuck,” he cursed, breaths coming out in pants. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he grumbled, pulling your head back and his cock from your mouth. You shook your head, looking up at him. “S’okay,” you replied as he pulled his shirt off and carefully wiped your lips, chin, and chest with it before tossing it to the floor.

“Let me take care of you, yeah?” he said softly, guiding you onto your back before stripping you of your leggings and panties, letting them fall to the floor. Jihoon climbed over you, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips before he started kissing down your chest, stopping to pay special attention to your breasts. You sighed, back arching as you felt his tongue drag lazily over your nipple.

“God,” you heard him groan against your skin, his breath hot. “Have I ever told you how fucking beautiful you are?” he asked softly. You moaned, his hand kneading your breast as he started kissing down your stomach. He slid off the bed, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you to the edge of the bed.

“I don’t care how pathetic it sounds,” he started as he forced your thighs apart. “I’m so fucking in love with your body. With you.” You felt his lips on the inside of your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses from your knee and moving closer and closer to your aching core.

Just as he reached your mound, he pulled back, repeating the same on the other thigh. You gasped as he stopped to nip at the skin, sinking his teeth into your soft flesh. “Gonna mark you up so everyone knows you’re mine,” he muttered so low you almost didn’t hear it.

You let out a whine as his mouth moved closer and closer to where you wanted it. “Please,” you breathed. “Don’t tease me anymore, Hoonie.” Jihoon nearly melted when you used that nickname. “I don’t plan on it, angel,” he said softly, his hot breath fanning over your sex. “Wanna taste you so bad I can barely stand it.” You whined, legs spreading at the sound of his voice. “Please, Jihoon.”

You heard Jihoon chuckle lightly; felt his breath on you. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “Just let me take care of you.” That was the last thing he said before you felt him lick slowly up your sex, spreading your folds to expose your slit. His tongue passed over it, dragging up to your clit before sucking, making you mewl in surprise as the tip of his tongue flicked against it rapidly.

He pulled back, giving your clit a slow lick, glancing up at you where he could see your chest heaving.

One of your hands moved down to comb through his hair, fingers tangling in his locks as your hips started to move. Jihoon grabbed your hips to hold you in place. “Ah, shit,” you whined as he impeded your movements, holding your hips in place.

You propped yourself up on your elbow to look down at him. His eyes were shut, tongue flat as he ran it over your clit repeatedly. You pushed his hair back off his forehead, groaning as you felt your thighs start to tremble. “Jihoon,” you whined, trying to move your hips. He groaned against you, his hands moved, arms wrapping around your thighs.

He pulled back only for a moment to speak. “Go ahead, baby,” he urged. “Ride my tongue.”

His tongue was back on your clit, groaning as he tasted you. You started to roll your hips, grinding your clit against his tongue like he asked, letting out almost pornagraphic moans as your orgasm approached. “Fu-fuck. I’m gonna cum,” you announced, thighs shaking as your walls clenched around nothing.

A wave of euphoria washed over you as you finally came with a broken cry of Jihoon’s name. Your hips slowed to a halt. Jihoon pulled back, grabbing his shirt from the floor to wipe his chin before guiding you back up the bed, lips meeting yours as he laid against you, between your thighs. You could feel his cock poke against your thigh and you whined, wiggling your hips.

“Want it,” you murmured against his lips, pouting when he pulled away to look at you. “Want what, baby?” he asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Your cock,” you pouted harder. “Inside me. Want it so bad.”

Jihoon let out a light chuckle at your pouting despite his cock twitching at the thought of being inside you. “You sure you can take it without prep?” he asked, kissing across your cheek. You nodded fervently. “Yes,” you breathed. “I can take it.”

Jihoon fought the urge to laugh, opting to smirk instead as he pulled back, cupping your cheek in one hand. “Alright,” he cooed. “Where do you keep your condoms?” You turned your head, pointing to your bedside table. Jihoon leaned over, pulling open the drawer and reaching in to find the box of condoms. He also found a bottle of lube as well as a small ping bullet vibrator.

‘Another time,’ he told himself as he pulled out a condom, shutting the drawer again and sitting up to open the condom. He rolled the latex down his length. “You sure you don’t need me to stretch you first?” he asked, looking down at you. Shaking your head, you reached out for him. “No, just need it now.”

Jihoon couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped him as he took one of your hands, the other guiding his cock to your entrance. “Squeeze my hand if it hurts,” he said before taking a deep breath. You nodded, looking up at him with expectant eyes.

Jihoon slowly pushed into you, letting out a groan as your walls welcomed him. You let out a whine but didn’t give his hand a squeeze so he continued, gliding into you with ease. “You feel so good,” Jihoon groaned as he stilled, his cock fully enveloped in your warmth.

“So fucking good, baby.”

You whined in response. “Feels so full,” you commented. “Yeah?” Jihoon whispered, moving his hand to cup your cheek. You nodded, a choked moan coming from the back of your throat as he pulled back, softly thrusting into you. “Sshit,” Jihoon cursed under his breath.

He gave you another slow thrust, slowly increasing speed until he was at a slower pace. You whined, moving your hips to meet his. You wanted him to really fuck you properly. “Jihoon,” you said his name, licking your lips. “Please move.” Jihoon let out a soft laugh, moving his hand down to the front of your throat. “I am moving, baby,” he replied.

“Faster,” you whined, frustration setting in. You heard another soft chuckle from him and decided to take matters into your own hands. You moved so quickly, it took Jihoon a moment to register what just happened.

One minute he had you flat on your back as he thrusted slowly into you, the next, he was on his back and you were on top, fingers gripping the sheets under him as you rolled your hips much faster than he was giving you, riding him. His hands flew to your waist, trying to hold you still.

“Stop it,” he groaned, cock twitching inside you when your walls clenched. “I’m trying not to cum so quickly.” You whimpered, moving your hips faster. “Sorry,” you whined. “I just need more.” Jihoon let out a growl, flipping you back over on your back as he hovered over you.

“I was trying to be sweet,” he murmured, one hand moving to your throat and gripping it firmly but not cutting off your air intake. “But you’re acting like such a brat right now.” He slowed his thrusts, despite your protests. “Jihoon!” you pleaded. “Please just fuck me already.”

He shook his head, keeping the same steady pace. “I already told you, baby,” he started. “I don’t wanna fuck you.” He leaned over, pressing his lips to yours. “But if you don’t stop acting like a brat, I will fuck you and you won’t get to cum.” You whined, shaking your head. “Okay, I’m sorry,” you backpedaled.

There was no way you were going to let him deny you your orgasm. “I promise I’ll behave.”

Jihoon gave you a teasing smirk. “Good girl.”

Your walls clenched around him and he let out a moan. “Keep doing that,” he gasped when you did it again, this time intentionally. “Are you close?” you asked, looking up at him. He nodded, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m almost there,” you replied. Without needing to ask, Jihoon moved his hand to your face, pushing his thumb between your lips and gathering your spit before moving the same hand down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Come on, baby. Cum with me.”

Your back arched off the mattress with a mewl as Jihoon drove you both closer and closer to the edge. “That’s it, pretty girl,” Jihoon murmured. “God look at you. So fucking beautiful. And all mine, aren’t you?” he continued. You nodded wordlessly. “Say it,” Jihoon growled. “Say you’re mine.”

Your lips parted but the only thing that came out was a moan of his name. You felt him snap his hips hard against you. “Say it. Tell me you’re mine. Only I get to have you like this.” His thrusting turned into pounding, the sound of skin on skin growing in volume and your moans increasing in pitch.

“I’m yours,” you managed to gasp. “Only yours, Hoonie.”

Jihoon let out a deep moan, hips stuttering as he came, filling the condom. He continued to thrust, riding out his high as he brought you with him, pushing you over the edge after a couple more thrusts and hissing when he felt your nails dig into his arm as your cunt convulsed around his cock.

Instead of collapsing on you like his body wanted, he chose to carefully pull out of you and roll onto his back, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to regain his composure, breathing slowly to calm his heart rate.

His lips pulled into a smile as he felt your fingers card through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead before you leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He turned his head, capturing your lips with his. “You’re sweaty,” he murmured as you partially draped yourself over him.

He heard you scoff lightly. “As if you aren’t covered in sweat right now too,” you retorted, making him laugh, the sound of it musical and light to you. “We should probably get cleaned up,” you murmured, lightly tracing the curve of his cheek with your fingers.

Jihoon grabbed your hand, eyes still shut and brought the back of your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. He finally let his eyes flutter open and looked up at you. “Later,” he murmured. “Let me take care of this first,” he added, sitting up to remove the condom, tying the end before tossing it into the small waste bin beside your nightstand.

He laid back down, arm wrapping around you as you laid your chin on his chest, looking at his face as he shut his eyes again, chest rising and falling as his breathing finally returned to normal. Silence washed over the two of you as you continued to stare at him. He looked as if he’d fallen asleep but he opened one eye to look at you through a squint.

“It’s not nice to stare,” he said, his voice gravelly. “I can’t help it,” you replied. “You’re just so pretty to look at.” Jihoon felt heat rise to his face, extending into the tips of his ears which he was sure were red now. “You can’t say stuff like that and expect me to not fall for you,” he replied, rolling onto his side, his other arm coming to wrap around you and pull you closer.

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you replied. Jihoon murmured something into your hair, making you ask him to repeat it. “I said go to sleep,” he said a little louder. “We can shower, stare, and talk in the morning.”

You grumbled, letting your head fall against his bicep under you. “Fine,” you muttered, eyes sliding shut.

You weren’t sure how quickly you’d fallen asleep but when you woke up, it was already morning. Bright light filtered into the room through your blinds as you blinked the sleep away and started to stir. You felt warmth behind you and turned your head to find Jihoon fast asleep, one arm under the pillow under your head and the other wrapped around your waist.

Sometime in the night, Jihoon must have woken up and put both of you under the covers. You stretched your arms in front of you, letting out a yawn and started to sit up. You were held in place as Jihoon curled both arms tighter around you and grumbled.

“I have to get up,” you whined, to which he murmured a no in your shoulder as he ducked his head in the crook of your neck. “Jihoon!” you admonished as he started pressing light kisses to your neck and shoulder, making you giggle as you tried to free yourself from his iron grip.

“No,” he whined as you peeled his arms back and managed to escape, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed. You got up, letting the sheets fall as Jihoon made a swipe for you but missed. He fell back against the pillows, pouting at you as you walked away from the bed and over to your bathroom.

“I’m taking a shower,” you announced, looking back over your shoulder at him. “You’re welcome to join me if you’d like,” you added before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door until it was open a crack.

Jihoon rolled his eyes and turned over to grab his phone from the nightstand. He checked the time and saw he had several missed texts from Soonyoung. He ignored them, locking the screen before setting his phone back down and sitting up. He’d deal with his roommate later.

Getting up from the bed, Jihoon padded over to the bathroom door where he could now hear the shower running. He pushed open the door and peered in. The curtain was pulled closed and he assumed you were already in there. He pushed the door open fully before shutting it behind him to trap all the warm air before walking over and pulling back the curtain to find you standing under the stream, water cascading down your body.

He stepped in behind you as you turned to him. “Morning,” he murmured, hands moving to your waist and pulling you into a kiss. “Mm, morning,” you replied as you pulled back and started to grab your body wash and a washrag. Jihoon took the items from you, giving you a smirk when you raised your brow.

“Let me,” he simply said, squeezing the soap onto the washrag. “Gives me an excuse to touch you all over.” You rolled your eyes as he started to scrub the soap onto your body. “Never knew you were so big into body worship,” you joked as he turned you away to scrub your back with a hum.

“I think it’s just you,” he replied, running his hand over your body, spreading the soap further. You leaned back against him as his hand not holding the cloth traveled down your stomach. “Really?” you asked as his fingers dipped between your thighs, his lips kissing at your jaw. “Yes, really,” he murmured.

“Just let me take care of you, yeah?”

You snorted, letting out a moan as his fingers moved against your clit. “You said that last night, too,” you breathed, head falling back against his shoulder as he continued to play with your clit and scrub your body at the same time, moving the washcloth carefully over your breasts.

“Baby, I’ll keep saying that to you every day and every night if you’ll let me.”

You let out a whine of protests when he withdrew his hand from your sex. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Let me finish washing you and then I’ll give you what you want.” You groaned in annoyance as he merely laughed at your impatience. “You better,” you replied. “Now I’m horny again.”

Jihoon stayed true to his words, washing and rinsing your body before he satisfied both your appetites by fucking you against the tile wall and pulling out to cum on your ass which quicky washed away under the stream of hot water. Once both clean and dry and Jihoon had a couple of marks littering his neck and shoulders, you headed out to the kitchen to start making breakfast, thanking your automatic coffee maker for doing its job and making a pot of hot coffee.

Jihoon joined you moments later, wearing only his underwear. “Where are my clothes?” he asked as he approached the kitchen. “In the wash,” you replied. “I thought it would be nice to go home in clean clothes,” you replied. He grumbled about being cold and you let out a laugh.

“Grab a blanket then, you big baby,” you replied. “Or you can check my closet. I’m pretty sure I have some old things that will fit you,” you added. Jihoon padded back down the hall to your room, entering your bathroom and walking into your closet. He started to search, wondering why you would have something that fit him.

He ended up finding a pair of plaid men’s pajama pants and eyed them suspiciously. He grabbed them and carried them back out to the kitchen where you were cooking. “Are these okay?” he asked, holding up his find. You eyed them and nodded. “Yeah, those are my brother’s. They got mixed up in my stuff when I went home during college and my mom did my laundry. I just kept them,” you replied.

Jihoon felt instantly much better and quickly pulled the pants on and walked around the counter to prepare a mug of coffee. The two of you stood in the kitchen in comfortable silence as he made his coffee and you cooked breakfast, stirring the eggs.

“So,” Jihoon finally said after taking a sip and leaning against the counter behind you as you worked. “Are we going to talk about this?” he asked. “About what?” you asked, not looking back at him but lifting your head so he knew you were paying attention.

“About this. About us,” he answered, gesturing between the two of you, even if you weren’t looking to see. “Well,” you started. “What do you want to talk about? Do you want to define things?” you asked. Jihoon contemplated for a moment before responding.

“I’d like to know what direction we’re heading,” he answered. “Are we together? Are we dating? What does this mean to you?” You lifted slices of cooked bacon out of the pan, dividing them between the two plates on the counter before cracking open the eggs.

“I want something more than just sex,” you said as you cracked the eggs one by one. “I said this last night and it’s still true today. I want more than a sexual relationship with you, Jihoon.”

Jihoon set his mug down and closed the distance between the two of you, leaning against the counter next to you. “I want that too,” he stated. “I’ve wanted that since camp,” he added, moving his hand to take your chin in his hand and turn your face towards him.

“It’s a little backwards,” he started as he let go of you, watching you stir the eggs, the clear parts turning white as they cooked. “But I want to take you on a date. I know we’ve already hooked up a few times,” he continued. “But I really like you, Y/N,” he said softly, heart skipping a beat as you smiled shyly at his admission. “I like you too, Jihoon,” you answered softly.

“So let me take you on a date,” he countered. “We can go on a date, see each other outside of the bedroom for once.” You let out a giggle as you stirred the eggs, making sure they were fully cooked before plating them. “Alright, Mr. Romantic,” you said, turning off the stove and turning to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Let’s go on a date.”

Jihoon lifted a brow. “Mr. Romantic?” he asked, sounding thoroughly offended, making you laugh loudly before pulling him in for a kiss. “You’re so annoying,” he mumbled against your lips, his smile holding nothing but adoration for your antics. “You still like me though, right?” you asked softly.

Jihoon nodded, reaching up to cup your cheek.

“Definitely,” he answered. “Hell,” he continued, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I might even love you.”

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

#svthub #ksmutsociety #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #woozi fanfiction #woozi fanfic #woozi smut #woozi x reader #tales from camp holiday special

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

Once Upon a Time 6

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your shift starts out as usual. You go through opening with Colton and Chelsea. You leave cash just after ten to work the floor.

It's a quiet day and the rush usually doesn't start until after lunch. Right around noon, as you count down the minutes until your break, you notice traffic pick up with the arrival of more associates to cover the departments.

As you help an older lady find the classics section, you sense someone watching you, likely an impatient customer wanting your attention. You point the woman to the five dollar classic table and turn to face your next task. The shadow is gone. You peer around, hm, maybe they found someone else.

You continue your lap around the store. You pass Colin as he winks at a tall blonde as he holds a book in his hands. It's not often you see him doing anything besides hiding in the back. With Pine back, you assume that's not an option.

As you come up an aisle, you sense another shift in the air. You whip around and swear you see a figure flit away. Okay, you're being paranoid. This place is getting busy and you didn't sleep well.

You stop to look at the spines lined up neatly and adjust the little placard that hangs over the front of the shelf. Your eyes are drawn up as you see the crown of a head on the other side.

You march down to the end but as you come around, the customer is gone. You're definitely having an episode of some sort. What the hell is going on?

You press on your headset and let the floor know you're taking five. You just need to hit the bathroom and clear your head. You come out around the edge of comics and set off towards the little lobby between the bathrooms. You push through the door with your shoulder and sigh. You go into a stall and try to shake off the nerves.

He might not even come in today. And if he does, Pine is here. This can be done once and for all. You come back out and wash your hands, looking yourself in the tired eyes reflected back at you. Right, almost break time. Ten more minutes.

You pull the door and nearly walk straight into another person. You yipe, an embarrassing noise, and back up against the door. Of all the times to run into him, it's then. Andy puts on a show of surprise, brows popping up as he tilts his head.

"Oh, hey, didn't know you were working," he says.

"Um, yeah, I'm just head back," you point towards the floor, "I gotta go," you fix your earpiece, "sorry."

You sidle past him, ignoring your name as he calls after you. He grumbles but you hear the bathroom door swish open. You swerve and go off to find Colin or another manager. You're just going to have your break now.

When you come back along the far end of fiction, Colin is no longer there. A swarm of customers away you and you stop to help them find titles and look up several that are out of stock on your phone. You finally get away, turning back for the back office. As you get close to the rear of the store, you're stopped again by the same figure.

"Hey," Andy puts his hands in his pockets. His jacket is unbuttoned over a grey suit and pale blue shirt. His dark tie is pulled straight and tight. "I had a question--"

"Andy," you utter, "I was just going to find Mr. Pine. He's in the store today so you should be able to chat."

"Mr. Pine?" He frowns and slips his hand free to scratch his beard, "I’m not here for him," he says.

"Well, I'm headed on my break after so--"

"Break? How about coffee?"

The question surprises you. You expected anger. You expected the same look you got at the side of the road. Instead, he seems almost dazed.

"It's just a fifteen, I won't have time, so... I'll just go get Mr. Pine--"

"I don't want to talk to him," Andy insists, "why are you running away?"

"I... I'm not. Did you need help finding something?" You look around with a gulp, "we don't have the new book in the series just yet--"

"Don't be like this," he steps closer and you stiffen, leaning back on a heel, adrenaline bubbling, "I'm a nice guy. I've been nice. It's just a coffee."

"Look, I just work here. I can help you with books or a kindle but I don't want to have coffee with you. Do you get it? I'm not interested."

He blinks and furrows his brows, "why not?"

You stand in silence, staring at his throat, too afraid to look him in the face. You shrug as you search for an answer; he's pushy, he's old, he's not your type, you're not looking. You don't want to be mean, just honest. How do you tell someone to leave you alone nicely?

"Ahhh, Mr. Barber," the voice drawls from behind you and you flinch as you step aside, back to the shelf as you turn to watch Mr. Pine stride towards you, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Andy scowls at the blond strutting up the aisle, "nothing. Just shopping."

"And you've chosen my fine establishment," Pine steps up, slowing as he looks to you, "you alright? Why don't you go off and have your break?" He checks his watch, "I'll deal with this one."

"Deal with me?" Andy says defiantly, stepping up in challenge. "I'm giving money to your business. You should show some respect."

"Mmm," Pine narrows his eyes and looks Andy up and down, "you know, there is a rather elaborate surveillance system here. For security." Pine pushes his shoulders, unaffected by Andy's posturing, "now on top of weeks of you coming in to hound this girl, I've only just watched you stalk her around this store for no less than forty minutes."

Your mouth falls open. Forty minutes? Your heart drops into your stomach.

"So, you will leave the premises, that is certain. You do get a choice; to leave of your own volition or with some assistance."

Pine steps even closer to Andy, herding him back away from you. Andy's jaw ticks as he stares down the other man. His eyes slowly scan over to you and his lips part as his face shades with embarrassment.

"I wasn't following her," he backs up, raising his palms, "I was looking around. That's it. I'll leave." He shakes his head and snorts, "talk about customer service."

Andy spins on his heel, flicking his fingers derisively over his shoulder. You cross your arms over your chest as a chill rolls over you. You don't believe him. You look at Pine as he watches Andy stomp away.

"Mr. Pine," you eke out, "can I see the footage?”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #defending jacob #au #drabble #bookstore au #series #once upon a time

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

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𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 (mon amour)

valentine's day masterlist - bimbo and the bull

summary - you and ari make an apple pie together and also take a nap.

the gif and header I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You were excited, and Ari had agreed to bake an apple pie with you. You had woken early and opened the gate for him to trot through. You smiled as he held your hand, and you both walked over to the apple trees, ready to be picked. He helped you grab the highest apples because you said they looked the juiciest.

You were currently in the kitchen while Ari stood outside by the window looking in, “That looks good, my love.” You give him a large smile, putting the apple mixture in the dish with the pastry. Once you’ve finished decorating the pie, you place it into the oven and turn to look at Ari. You untie your apron and walk outside and over to Ari, smiling up at him as he grabs your hand. “Let’s go have a nap in our field.” You nod, snuggling into him as you both head toward the small field filled with the prettiest of flowers, and there lay a bunch of blankets and pillows.

“I’m happy I have you, Ari… Living and having a life in the city wasn’t the best, but when I met you… It seemed like everything clicked together, and I no longer feel so empty.” You confess, sitting down on the blankets next to him. You look up at him, softly smiling as he looks down at you lovingly. You blink away the tears that threaten to spill.

Ari reaches out and strokes your cheek, “I feel the same, my love. I’ve never felt like this in all my life, and I have you to thank for that.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead before lying down and holding you against him. The two of you slowly drift off to sleep, feeling safe and warm in each other’s arms.

You wake to Ari stroking your cheek and staring down at you with a soft look, “Time to wake, sleepyhead. Gotta go check on our pie.” You giggle, nuzzling into his hand before you both stand and head back to the house and into the kitchen. The smell of apple pie wafting through the air causes you and Ari to sigh in joy. You bend over to see how the pie is doing and smile as it looks perfect.

You place oven mitts on, grab hold of the pie, and take it out, walking over to the window sill that Ari is currently leaning on. You wait until he moves to place it down carefully. Smiling up at him with how well it turned out, “It looks so good! And I bet it’ll taste even better with the apples you helped me pick.” Ari stares at you adoringly, wondering how he has gotten so lucky.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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she-wolf09231982 · 3 months

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Chapter 4- The Catch

Summary: Carentan was a harsh bloody battle. As you and Doc are tending to multiple wounded men, you eventually run into Liebgott while he’s comforting a severely wounded fellow soldier he was partnered with. After the Americans claimed the town, eventually the boys of Easy were pleasantly surprised when they had an evening at a pub when you arrived polished up like a lady with a song in your heart.

A/N: Mature audience, Joe LiebgottxFem!Medic, post D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Y/F/N, Y/L/N, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Confrontation, Military Terminology, 1940’s slang, Inappropriate Nicknames, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Descriptive Wounds/Injuries, Death, Blood/Gore, Smoking, Banter, Pining, Consensual Physical Contact/PDA, FOREVER FLUFF 💚

Chapter takes place Episode 1x4 Replacements

Song selection for this piece:

Good Night, My Love by Ella Fitzgerald

{Provided below at the end of the chapter}

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

As you come up on Carentan, you’re met with heavy fire from German snipers hiding inside some of the buildings. Most of you take cover in the ditches on either side of the road but are just made easy targets for the Germans since everyone was still out in the open.

Winters shouted at the troops to move forward to get cover and started to physically lift each soldier he passed to get them moving.

“Get yourselves out of those trenches!”

After finally making entry into the town, American soldiers scatter to wherever they can to get cover from all of the gunfire coming from every direction.

You and Doc on separate ends of the streets trying to keep low to tend to the wounded.

“MEDIC!!”

You race to two soldiers landing on your knees next to them, one on the ground with a trail of blood coming from his helmet, the other crouching over him.

“He’s still breathing, help me carry him!” You call out. You each grab an arm of the injured soldier and drag him behind a building.

While you’re working on the nameless soldier’s head wound, a drug store gets blasted by German artillery not far from where you were, the force from the explosion sending you sideways into the brick wall next to you.

Your ears intensely ringing, it’s all you can hear for a moment until you hear Liebgott’s voice.

“TIPPER! TIP! Answer me, Tip!” Joe calls out to his partner, Ed Tipper who sadly had been in the building when the blast occurred.

You shake your head vigorously in an attempt open your ears and regain your composure. When you finally snap out of it, you look up to see Tipper stumbling out of the destroyed storefront of the pharmacy, the left side of his face completely torn up from shrapnel, and his right thigh blown wide open, the artery clearly lacerated and bleeding out.

Liebgott running, stops dead in his tracks when he sees Tipper.

“Joe?? Is that you??” Tipper calls out trembling.

Liebgott stunned by Tipper’s bloody appearance, slowly approached him carefully setting down is rifle.

“Lookin’ good, Tip.” Joe says reassuringly placing his rifle on the ground, “-lookin’ real good.”

Liebgott gently took Tipper by the arm, leading him out of the building.

“Come here, buddy, you gotta sit down. Come here...Come on...” He slowly helped Tipper to the ground, “Easy, easy...There you go...there you go.”

Liebgott crouched next to Tipper and gently guided his head to rest in the crook of his neck.

Tipper’s breath became ragged and labored. As he started coughing up blood, Joe surveyed the rest of the damage on him. He discovers the right thigh wound, bleeding out and pulsating where the artery was hit, then the right foot exposed through the boot also drenched in red.

“Ah Jesus...” Liebgott whispered to himself stroking Tipper’s hair. “You hang in there, buddy. Okay, we're gonna get you fixed up. All right...okay. Guys, you wanna give me a hand here? Come on.”

He started to lift Tipper as you approached. Before the other two soldiers could help Liebgott pick him up, you push through them grabbing Tipper’s right arm to bring it across the back of your shoulders and assist carrying him to safety.

“Over here, Lieb.” You direct.

You both rest Tipper against the wall as you grab a large dressing from your med bag, putting it directly over his thigh to apply pressure. You knew it would be to no avail since the artery needed to be held closed to keep the blood in and he’s lost so much blood already. Without plasma, you couldn’t do much.

“Tip, I’m right here.” You comfort him, putting your face in his line of sight so he can see you.

Liebgott staring stood up slowly, waiting for you to work your healing magic, but you already knew Tipper’s fate was sealed. You look up apologetically at Joe and shake your head.

~~~~~~~

After the dust finally settled, the town was now under American control. The time in Carentan was short lived, as orders came through for Easy to attack East towards the low ground. Easy went from the Western part of Carentan towards the South, near the village of Douville. You all are confronted with a major German resistance upon your arrival. The Germans launched a strong counter- attack with tanks and armored vehicles. Fortunately, Sherman tank reinforcements arrived, breaking the German lines of contact and shortly abandoned the hill.

A few days later, after a failed reconnaissance mission, Easy was removed from the front lines and sent back to Sainte-Mère-du-Monte to recover from the combat you all had endured. To Easy’s misfortune, Lipton announces you all are to return to combat in September. New orders state Easy is to drop into Holland to liberate the people from German tyranny.

But when Easy approaches Eindhoven, the locals commemorate your arrival with celebration in the streets with banners waving and cheers of appreciation. Women of the village kiss each soldier on the cheeks and mouths as they pass, while the men hug or shake their hands showing their gratitude.

It was chaotic. Everywhere you looked, people were dancing and shouting in the streets while music blared from a band off to the side. You were once again separated from Joe.

You hear Lipton yelling, “Keep moving!!” He repeated over and over amongst the crowd as he ushered the guys up the street.

This was an unusual change of pace for Easy Company. Instead of being met with gunshots and explosions, you’re welcomed with warm smiles and affection from the locals. Some of the guys took advantage of the situation getting in some extra kisses from the local women.

You wondered if Liebgott was kissing any of these women. Afterall, they seemed to be wearing some of their best dresses with make-up and here you were, having looked like a hag for nearly four months since you dropped on D-Day. Why wouldn’t he get his kisses in while he had the chance to get one from a lady looking like she had at least been bathing consistently?

This thought discouraged you. You hadn’t done yourself up since Toccoa. You release a sigh of frustration and continue pushing through the crowd.

~~~~~~~

That evening, Easy got together with some of the new Easy replacements in attendance at what seemed to be a barn made into an improvised pub. There was a dartboard on the wall, and multiple tables and chairs set up. A simple radio playing some popular tunes sat on the bar.

“Hey, Lieb, where’s Y/L/N?” Perconte asked.

Liebgott shrugged. “Last I heard she went to one of the local women’s houses to get cleaned up.”

“Betchya we won’t even recognize her.” Guarnere joked.

The guys all laughed collectively. Malarkey pushed through the crowd trying to get everyone’s attention.

“Hey, guys! Get a look at the bird that just came in!” Malarkey pointed towards the entrance with a wide eager smile.

Everyone redirected their attention to the front of the room. Most of the men of Easy caught sight of an almost familiar woman wearing the standard female Army dress uniform complete with skirt, simple heels, and clean white medic brassard displaying the Red Cross around the left bicep. Hair clean and perfumed pulled back into a neat fashionable bun and a face with fresh make-up and painted lips. You almost had the entire room at a complete standstill when you walked in.

Liebgott’s jaw dropped, (as did everyone’s).

“Who the hell is that?” Talbert asked.

“Floyd, you’re an idiot.” Guarnere asserted.

“It’s our little lady medic, boys.” Randleman pointed out affectionately.

Excited murmurs and whispers filtered across the room.

You start to make your way to Easy in the back. Of course, you’re approached by several other members from other companies there, but you kindly decline their advances so you can get to your own.

“Hey, fellas.” You greet as you near the group of Easy soldiers.

They all inaudibly respond with their own forms of welcome, then all fall silent leaving a heavy blanket of tension in the air between you and them. You look around suspiciously wondering why none of them were making eye contact with you or speaking. Some looked like they were even holding their breath.

“What’s wrong with you guys? It just Y/L/N! Quit acting like you never seen a woman before.” Nixon said addressing the men.

“Yeah, but that’s just it, sir, it’s Y/L/N...dolled up. She don’t normally look like this.” Guarnere explained.

Nixon laughed. “Then it would be gentlemanly of one of you to offer her a seat while I get her a drink. What will you have Y/L/N?” He called out to you.

“Thank you, sir, any beer will be just fine.” You replied with a relieved smile.

“You clean up nice, L/N!” Malarkey commended as he pulled you in for a one-armed hug.

“Thanks, Don.” You respond as your cheeks heat up.

The rest of the guys agree simultaneously, each voicing over the other how great you looked.

You laugh nervously, “Gee, guys, thanks.” Was all you could say.

You weren’t used to this kind of attention from the boys. As the awkwardness lifted and everyone started to resume socializing, your eyes eventually met Liebgott’s.

You each smile at eachother.

“Here you go, L/N.” Nixon handed you a bottle with a wink.

“Thanks, sir. Cheers!” You raise your beer clinking it against his highball glass of Vat 69 whiskey on the rocks.

You finally go to stand with Liebgott.

When you reached him, he gently pulled you in by your waist and leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“You’re a knockout, sweetheart.” He professed with that Joe Liebgott smirk.

You felt his warm breath dance along your neck, making your spine shiver and the butterflies rise in your stomach.

Your breath caught in your chest, and you smiled shyly at him.

“Lookin’ dapper yourself, Joe.” You reply as you readjust his tie.

Your little moment was interrupted abruptly by Guarnere.

“Hey Joe, if you ain’t gonna have a dance with her, how ‘bout letting one of us take her once around the room?” He teased.

An upoar of laughter erupted from the group.

Joe looked at you and raised his eyebrows, “How about it, doll?” He asked.

“Oh, I don’t think I can dance in these shoes, Joe. I tripped twice outside on the way over here.” You admitted.

Joe chuckled then Luz came up to you.

“Hey Y/F/N! Bull here says you got some pipes on ya? Can you sing us a little something?” He bid.

You direct a look of betrayal towards Randleman.

“You said you wouldn’t tell anyone, Bull.” You reminded him sharply.

“It would be a crime and shame to keep that voice a secret, lady.” Randleman declared.

Laughter fills the air.

“So, whaddya say? One song? For us?” Luz begged again.

You look around at all the eager faces of the men in Easy Company, and you smile.

“How about some Ella Fitzgerald?” You suggest.

The men cheered and ushered you over to the upright piano against the wall by the bar.

“Hey, we can’t see her!” One soldier shouted from the back.

“Give her something to stand on!” Another one called out.

Toye placed a chair next to the piano as Liebgott offered his hand to help you up.

When you came into view of the audience, all the men applauded, directing whistles and howls of admiration.

You grimace playfully shaking your head mouthing, “Knock it off!” as you wave them down.

A soldier from the crowd sat at the piano.

“You know, Goodnight, My Love?” You ask him.

The soldier nodded and began playing the selection from memory.

You serenade with all your heart and soul, immediately capturing the room. As you sing, you look from one awestruck face to another, making sure to smile as any good entertainer would do in the movies. You felt like a starlet.

The whole room leaning in listening intensively, some ogling at you from the tables, your eyes connect with Joe’s who’s standing along the front. He grins as he watches you admirably and you can’t help but return a smile.

At that moment on the last line of the song, you lost your balance.

🎶Sleep tight, my love, goodnight, my love

Remember that you’re my sweetheart--🎶

“GASP!”

All the air suddenly left your lungs as you feel your feet leaving the surface of the chair. It all seemed to happen in slow motion as Joe swiftly swooped in catching you bridal style before you can hit the floor. The room in unison choked with concern.

The world went still while Joe was holding you. Your faces so close, your cheeks reddened and once again your breath stuck in your throat somewhere.

“Nice grab, Liebgott!” You hear Guarnere shout. The room laughed and applauded as Joe turned still carrying you, smiling mischievously from ear to ear.

“What a finale!” Compton called out.

“No more booze for her!” Luz teased. More laughter.

Liebgott set you on your feet.

“You good?” He asked. You nod.

“Thanks to you.” You beamed. You leaned in and kissed his cheek to show your gratitude for the rescue.

You heard some of the guys mockingly whistle at you and Liebgott for this little show of affection.

His astonishment had left his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide making you giggle. He leered playfully at you.

“You missed, sweetheart.” He eluded as he tapped his lips with his finger winking at you.

You raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. With your fore and middle fingers together, you press them to your red lips, kiss the pads, then place them onto Joe’s waiting lips which he gladly kissed. A devilish grin stretched across his face.

“Maybe next time we can have that dance?” He suggested.

“Sure, Joe. At least I know I can depend on you to catch me if I fall again.” You proclaim with a wink and a coy smile.

“I’ll always be there to save you, sweetheart.”

~~~~~~~

For your hearing pleasure,

Good Night, My Love by Ella Fitzgerald

youtube

{Provided by YouTube}

Chapter 5 👇🏼

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kingofbodyrolls · 1 month

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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), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴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, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, 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: completed (the epilogue is in the works!) 🐴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 →

“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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