#💿visits

[cattlemons]

heyy, it’s the anon that sent in the request about wanderer with a reader who has a bad relationship with their father :) if it’s alright maybe i can just go by 💿 anon? i have another kinda personal request, and again if you don’t feel comfortable writing it please let me know. 

I have a control freak mother, who is obsessed with our family looking perfect from the outside. for example, about a year ago i had plans to k!ll myself, and i broke down and told my mom, and her response was taking away my phone, computer, everything that i could communicate to people with. She called me an attention seeker and told me that i wasn’t allowed to tell anyone else about it.  

It can either be new or a continuation of my first request, whatever you feel like writing :) thanks so much, lovely <3

The Weight of A Memory

TW: Suicidal ideation, emotional distress, pretty sure there's a cuss somewhere, 1,7k words

a.n. can be read as a continuation to this but fine as a stand alone. More below for you, 💿anon

“So, you’re saying it can work? Erasing a memory from the Irminsul, I mean,” you prodded the man beside you for what felt like the fiftieth time after his prior admission.

The wanderer’s eyebrows twitched in annoyance as he scoffed at your question; a desperate one he suffixes. 

“I only told you that because it seems plausible but even I don’t know the complexity behind the damn tree,” he hissed before adding a quiet “yet” to the back of his remark. 

“Honestly, I don’t think we can progress anymore on this topic,” the aloof puppet gruffed out, “the best we can do at this point is to abandon the title entirely and find an object much easier to study than the Irminsul. It’s a massive retrospective joke that we thought ‘Selective Memory Alteration via Mental Connection to Irminsul’ would be a good research title. We can’t even get access to the tree, much less experiment on it.”

He’s definitely right, but you can’t bring yourself to agree, not when he just alluded to the possibility. 

“We don’t have to gain direct access, we can just connect through the meditational route, you know, incense and the likes?”

The Wanderer let out a mocking snort as he looked at you like you’d said the most absurd thing he’d ever had the privilege to hear. 

“The ‘meditational route’ you throw around so easily takes years to hone, idiot, it’s not just smelling salts and candles. You’re a researcher of the esteemed Akademiya and this is your idea? I don’t want to be that person but it looks like you’re desperately clinging onto a failed idea.”

On a normal day, you would know well enough that he’s only trying to dissuade you from wasting your time on something pointless but, unfortunately, for both you and him, today has been an absolute shitfest for you. Where you’d normally sigh at his crass way of speaking, today you decide to one-up him and say some rather nasty things as well. 

You suppose it’s only fair that monkeys see, monkeys do. 

But what started off as annoyance quickly turned into genuine anger as more ugly words and defined poison spewed out of what was supposed to be a discussion session on your research. He said some painful things and, admittedly, you did too. It, soon, spiraled out of both of your control as things started getting painful especially when he asked what all this insistence was for. 

“Why are you so hellbent on going through with this title–and don’t you dare tell me it’s just because it interests you! You’re much too smart to make such a lame excuse.”

You were silent as embarrassment leaked from the corner of your eyes because truly you did not know. 

Or, rather, you did. You just didn't want to admit it to him. 

Taking what you hope are your things, you rush out of the grand hall, passing by the walls of books and scrolls. You need to get out of there before it suffocates you alive, whatever ‘it’ may be.

The Avidya Forest is a good ways away from the main city of Sumeru but The Wanderer took it all one stride at a time, all in the name of tracking you down. 

Truthfully, in the empty echoes of the cavity he calls his heart, he feels bad for the things he’s said. He knows he shouldn’t have questioned you too harshly, not when you seemed so unsure of it in the first place, but he needed to know why you wanted this so badly; partially because of the intuition he spent millennials sharpening told him to and the other half because he’s seen this desperation before, back when he donned red, black, and gold. 

He followed the path he’s sure you must’ve taken and started guessing when the beaten path petered off. 

He was right to place his bets on the left fork because he found what he was looking for, albeit not in the condition he was hoping for. 

You were hunched over under a tree, clearly sobbing.

The Wanderer almost scoffs at how pathetic this all was, more so his insistence to come find you than your evident sadness. 

Making sure to step a little louder, he made his presence known. He hopes you’ll extend an olive branch of sorts and start the conversation but he supposes it’s too much to expect such mercy after how the situation unfolded. 

He sat beside you but you made no effort to acknowledge his existence, much less be forgiving. He’s fine with it. If you won’t talk, he’ll just have to talk for the both of you. He’s not particularly good at discerning human emotions but you mirror a certain grief he’s experienced three times too much. So, even though he’s probably extremely behind the curve in expressing human sympathy, he can, at least, offer the empathy of a hurt soul. 

“I don’t know what the fuck happened to you but the divine can’t fix it for you, you know. It’s stupid and damn near fruitless to place your hard-earned hopes on a tree. I don’t know what you’re trying to fix but whatever it is you’re trying to erase, I guarantee it'll bite you back in the end if you do it this way.”

He expected at least another hour-long silence but you took the bait and he’s grateful that you did; even if it did hurt him a bit to see the effects his words had on you. 

“You know what’s stupid? Not telling me how you know all of this. How do you know I'm trying to erase something? How do you know it won’t work? How do you know it can’t fix the hurt I’ve been through? How in all Teyvat do you know forgetting won’t make things better because I am about 99% sure I’d be much happier if I don’t remember the attempts I cry about at night,” you heaved as a wave of heaviness you did not know you carried wracked through you. 

You’re not quite sure how he’s got you to open up about your father once before but, damn it, he’s going for another record by digging deep into your personal hardships. 

He stayed silent in what you assumed to be stunned silence but by the time you turned your head to look at him, his eyes carried no surprise, they carried a shared sorrow instead. That’s when you knew that this whole debacle was a mirrored event for him. Something he witnessed himself go through and is now witnessing in you. Epiphany struck like thunder because now you know that's probably how he knew what you were planning; he's done it once before.

If you had any piece left to break in your heart, you’re sure it’d break for him too.

“You’ve tried it before, haven’t you? Erasing a memory in the Irminsul?”

Your question was met with a mocking scoff but unlike the last time he did it, this one was targeted towards himself.

“I’ll do you one better, I tried erasing myself off of it.”

You greeted his admission with silence, you’re not quite sure if it’s some sort of absurd understanding or profound shock. The man beside you has not only tempered with the Irminsul by erasing himself but lived to tell the tale. You have no clue what would drive someone to do such a drastic measure but you realize, in a way, you were not much different. 

“I was abandoned by my creator, by the people I ate and drank with, by a god and by its maker and the pain made me bitter so I tried it yet I’m still here. I know that the whole research is just a facade for your true goal.”

You can’t help but avert your gaze, caught red-handed. 

As you let his words sink in, your realize the hope you once carried were diminishing by the second. A weight dropped onto your shoulder making you curl into yourself even more. You held yourself in a shoddy attempt at mimicking some comfort.

“So, there’s no end to this, is there? Not even the Irminsul can help me,” you asked, sullen and all of a sudden so tired of everything. 

He let the quiet fester just long enough to have you break down again. He did not mean for more tears to fall from your eyes but he’s not sure how to tell you that there was no hope in the Irminsul to fix your hurt. How should he phrase what he thinks you need to hear?

“There is no way for the Irminsul to help you, us. Even if you forget, there’s no assurance it won’t come back to your mind and make things feel ten times worse,” he tells you in a tone so close to a whisper. 

He watched as you sobbed at how futile everything was, how hard it all was. 

He let you grief for your loss of an easy way to happiness.

“But I won’t say there’s no way out.”

You looked at him, your tear-filled human eyes meeting his glass puppet ones.

“It’s a lot of effort, much more than I’d like to give sometimes. Hell, it took a god and some otherworldly intervention to get me back to the baseline of a decent human,” he laughed pitifully, “but it’s possible. If it is for me, I don’t doubt for a second it is for you too.”

His words did little to ease the barrage of tears streaming past your cheeks but amidst the throes of emotion, it comforted you, much like the weight of a blanket on top of a sore body, a heaviness that seeks to drown out the sorrow instead of crush the happiness. 

You looked away to wipe the snot and waterworks away. You wanted to thank him and maybe say your fair share of apologetic lines but when you turned back around to face him, he was gone. 

The tree branches swayed as the wind rustled the leaves off of their seat on the bark. On the space that he occupied just a few seconds ago were some of the stuff you must’ve left back when you rushed out of the Akademiya and amongst it was a small note. It wasn’t the neatest of handwriting and it was a crude, almost cold letter (if it even counted as one considering it consisted of only a few words) but it brought a tiny spark of warmth into your heart.

I’ve done it before. I believe in you.

To 💿anon, I'm so sorry this took so long. My exams drained my energy and I did not want to write you something half-assed so I waited until my schedule cooled down a bit to continue where I left off. Just like last time I hope this brings you some comfort and if you need to share please feel free. Much love <3

[siffrins-therapist]

👾censoredmandibiles Follow

OK time to settle something

EDIT: this post WAY ended up breaking containment. GO CLUTCH YOUR PEARLS ELSEWHERE

🦑tentacleovi Follow

YO FREE BLOCKLIST IN THE NOTES HOLY SHIT

#RIP OP's notifs #i don't go here but i suggest making popcorn before diving into those notes #some of it is puritan bs you'd expect #some of it is discourse i never even knew existed

41.6K Notes

🕷️friendofcharlotte

I think a painting my friend got at a thrift store was painted by Mr. Italy Veneziano? Is there a way to authenticate it? Google isn't helping.

⭐wishonadeadstar Follow

Try here. Turns out my nan's portrait of her farmhouse was originally painted by Mr. Romano when he was living in NY during the 1920's.

🕷️friendofcharlotte

THANK YOU

8 Notes

📽️bisexuallightinggoggles Follow

hey yo so the US rep put like 100 hours into playing that game Spiritfarer just this week... anyone want to go check on the guy??

💿newagepirate Follow

There are literally government workers who's literal job it is to check on him

⛰️lesbianmothernature Follow

how tf do you know he put 100 hours into playing a game anyway????

📽️bisexuallightinggoggles Follow

We're friends on Steam. He adds like everyone who asks.

And for everyone in the notes asking what Spiritfarer is it's one of those cozy simulator games here's the trailer.

#isn't the 'deathiversary' of his friend Davie this week? #i'm definitely not the first person to think of that #okay looking at the notes was a mistake #like i'm not one of those ppl who puts #'DNI if your username makes fun of davies death' but #immortal or not #even if it happend centuries ago #you can still be sad your FUCKING FRIEND DIED

12.3k Notes

🥾hikingawayfrommyfeelings Follow

So if I become a citizen of Ladonia can he just... visit me through my computer?

🦝trashypanda Follow

He gets mad when you summon him :(

🦘callmejoeythewayi Follow

"summon him" Like a fucking demon?

🫒shrekbignaturals Follow

We are NOT rehashing that old discourse.

🎱magic8saveme Follow

Oh god I just revived my blog after escaping x/twitter and last time I saw that disk hoarse, my dash was just post after post of this for DAYS

🪄magictrio-dropout

#was there actual discourse about whether the nation-people were demons? #cuz the discourse i saw on my dash was #whether tales of things like demons vampires and #other immortal or 'came back to life' creatures #were born from when the nation-people resurrecting #or like #doing creepy stuff

IDK about tumblr or the first bit (I've personally never heard that at least not from anyone being serious) but the other stuff has been debated in academia for decades! One of my literature professors is ADAMANT that the vampire myth can be traced to old folklore about the reps and them reviving and possibly the blood-drinking comes from an evolution of the myth when before, old stories talked about blood soaking the earth where vampires rose. If anyone's interested, here's where you can find my professor's paper about it.

🎃warongayxmas

So like. *grabs a bat and slowly approaches a hornet's nest* Then does the Jesus story have the same roots then?

🫒shrekbignaturals Follow

WE 👏 ARE 👏 NOT 👏 RE 👏 HASHING 👏 THAT 👏 DISCOURSE👏

🥾hikingawayfrommyfeelings Follow

Wtf happened to my post???

#so did OP become a Ladonian citizen or what?

187.4k Notes

🐦‍pinchforawish Follow

MY DAD GOT TO SEE MR ENGLAND LIVE BACK WHEN HE WAS IN A PUNK BAND

🐦‍pinchforawish Follow

TUMBLR WTF HOW TF DOES THIS VIOLATE GUIDELINES

🏴dinotonugget-deactivated

Finally. Proof that the site runs so shittily bc Mr. Eyebrows works for staff

🫎moosecrossing Follow

Spoke the truth and got fucking killed for it

67.9 Notes

[xdinaryvamp]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ 💿 ` jongseob as your coffee shop crush!!

there is this one coffee shop next to your university where you always come to study. and everyday you see the same guy sitted at a table on the other side of the room, and you think he is just too pretty.

genre : fluff, coffee shop au, gn reader.

pairings : artist!jongseob × student!reader.

you had always been a creature of habit, so there was nothing strange about the fact that, for a month now, you had been showing up at the same coffee shop at the same time several days a week. by now, you had even made friends with the old lady who ran it, who even offered you a cup of coffee from time to time.

and you also realized that you weren't the only one with this little habit.

for a couple of weeks you had already noticed a boy who always sat at a table on the opposite side to you; always writing on a notebook with his headphones on.

you thought he was very cool - and totally your type - but you were way too shy to go talk to him. sometimes you looked at him, immediately looking away if he looked back at you. always wanting go know more about him, and always biting your tongue before even thinking of going to say “hi” to him.

in the end, you found yourself visiting the coffee shop just to see him, rather than to study. scenario after scenario played out in your head as you tried to imagine what his personality was like, what he listened to on his headphones, and what he always had to write in that notebook. maybe he was studying too? maybe he went to the same university as you and you had never seen him?

you found your answers on a thursday evening, after an afternoon spent reading notes and daydreaming, sitting at your usual table.

you had packed your bag and your coat, and were ready to go back to your rented room, when you realized that you would also have to do some physical exercise before calling the day over.

“really?” you whisper, standing in front of the glass door, seeing the rain falling heavily on the street, remembering that you didn't have an umbrella with you, and that your coat had no hood. 

you sigh, now resigned to the fact that you will have to run in the rain, hoping not to fall and not get your books too wet.

but, before you can even open the door, someone positions themselves next to you, so quickly that it almost scares you.

as you turn your head to see who they were, you almost turn completely red noticing that he was the boy with the headphones that you've had a little crush on for the last couple of weeks.

“you don't have an umbrella, don't you?” he asked, “you could use mine. it's not big… but it should be enough to cover both of us.”

he kindly smiles at you, while showing you the umbrella in his hand.

“oh, thank you!” you say, following him outside, careful not to hit him with your shoulder or your bag.

while he holds the umbrella over both your heads, you can see his hand shaking a little, even tho he tries to keep a relaxed face.

“i'm y/n, by the way.” “jongseob”.

you nod, thinking of a way to keep the conversation going. you couldn't miss this opportunity.

“i’ve noticed you, before. you are always writing something in your notebook.” you say, hoping with all your being to not sound like a creep who secretly watches people as a hobby.

which was true, but not in a disturbing way.

“oh.” he looks at you, looking away shyly shortly after. “they’re song lyrics. i would like to debut as a rapper, but i'm still working on my songs.”

“that's so cool!” you exclaim.

“thanks. instead… you come here to study, right?” he asked, looking back at you.

“yes, i have exams that I have to prepare for unfortunately.” he lets out a small laugh, before focusing on the street you were walking on.

“maybe, we can work on our stuff together next time.” he suggested, visibly holding his breath. surprised you started to do it too.

“really?”

“i mean… it's boring to study alone, and it's bothersome writing lyrics inspired by a muse you don't even know well.”

he smiles at you, and you realize that maybe your little crush wasn't exactly hopeless.

☆ :: that's my first fanfiction imma start screaming it's so cliché 𖦹 ´ ᯅ ` 𖦹 but i'm proud of myself

[zombholic]

TATTOOS & ETC. — abby anderson

summary — y/n visits las vegas for vacation before college starts, she gets her first big tattoo piece there only to meet the owner of the shop.

description — tattoo artist!abby, poc fem!reader, obviously older abby, modern au, cant write smut so dont expect it, and ofc its gonna be a long story.

— 🗝️　 ◦ ✺ 　 💿　 ⟢ —

“So I booked a tattoo appointment for tomorrow, the artist had someone cancel and she filled me in.” You smiled talking to your friend who came along with you on your vacation before university.

“Wait it’s that wrap around tattoo you wanted on your thigh right?” She asked as she took a sip of her alcoholic drink.

“Yes, dude you know how long I’ve been wanting that for!” The piece was gonna break your bank account but your girl math said it was basically free since it would be on for the rest of your life.

The morning of the appointment you decided to wear baggy sweats and a black wife pleaser, couldn’t risk anything rubbing against your new collection to your body.

You walked inside hearing the little bell chime as the door opened, you walked up to the small desk to meet a young girl with tattoos scattered along her arms and neck.

“Hey, appointment or walk in?” She smiled cheerfully looking up from her computer and at you.

“Appointment with Jasmine, I’m y/n” You leaned forward on the desk returning a small smile, she had you follow her to the back and had you sit on the chair telling you that Jasmine will meet you in a minute.

“Hey Y/n! How you feeling?” A short masculine woman sat in her rolling chair sliding over to you with toothiest smile, a small gem glued on her canine that blinged with the light.

“Feeling a little nervous but i’ve been wanting this tattoo for a year now, kinda stalked your page and I love the way you draw floral pieces.” You complimented her work, she was truly talented.

She had asked you to remove your sweats, now in your boy shorts and laying on your side after she applied the stencil. The buzzing of the gun started making you nervous but you being you kept your cool, the needle now digging into your plush thighs had you clenching your jaw.

You went on your phone trying to distract yourself from the painful spots she was doing, you heard the bell from the front door jingle followed by a couple of greetings before a tall, muscular woman who was covered in art walk into the back where you were.

“Hey Jazz.” She greeted your artist, her voice made you want to squeeze your legs together.

“Hey Abby, what’re you doing here? isn’t it your day off?” Jasmine paused for a moment to talk to Abby before focusing back on you. She asked you to lay on your back and spread your legs so she could finish the inner thigh part.

“This part will hurt so just tell me if you need anything ok?” The artist reassured you, nodding your head she came back down with the needle.

“Fuck, oh my god.” You bit down on your fist, squeezing your eyes shut, your chest heaving.

“I’m the owner dumbass, I have paperwork shit to do.” She chuckled, her blue eyes now on you and your tattoo.

“That’s a gorgeous piece.” Abby complimented, her giant arms crossing her chest as she now focused on your thigh.

“Yeah and it hurts like a motherfucker.” You giggled looking up at her.

Abby swore her heart started beating out her chest when she saw you look at her, she was definitely calling you the gorgeous piece she just couldn’t keep her eyes off you.

“Here hold my arm, I know how badly that part hurts.” You took her arm, digging your short nails into her forearm god for some reason she was turned on by you being in pain.

When the inner thigh part was finished you released your hand from Abby, quickly apologizing for hurting her.

“You’re fine sweetheart, didn’t even feel it.” A chuckle escaped her lips, winking at you before walking off to where you could assume was her office.

“Annnd you’re all done girl!” Your artist wrapped your thigh, looking in the body mirror you couldn’t stop cheesing.

“You are literally so fucking talented what?” Your comment made her blush.

“Gonna leave without letting me see?” Abby’s voice came from behind, you looked up at the mirror to see the blonde walk up behind you.

“She can have my whole bank account” You turned around to show her the beautiful piece wrapped around your thigh.

“Here, lemme walk you to the front.” Abby smiled as you had slid back into your sweats and walked over to the desk.

Abby leaned forward while on the computer, you would honestly thank her if she punched you in the face right now.

“Want a picture sweetheart?” She joked, a cocky grin plastering her face as she looked at you.

“I think I want your number more.” You impressed her with your boldness, majority of people being so deathly afraid of her.

“Yes ma’am.” She licked her lips, taking your phone and adding her contact.

“I’ll text you the details for our date on Friday.” Abby laughed but she wasn’t joking, this was her asking you out and you happily accepted.

— 🗝️　 ◦ ✺ 　 💿　 ⟢ —

authors note — guys was this good … and do yall want another part EHEHEHEHE also like thank you @atomicami for basically inventing tattoo artist!abby 😩🫶🏼

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

Thank You

Pairing: Uchiha Itachi x f!Reader

Summary: Going blind and coughing up blood, Itachi had to seek some kind of medical aid, if only to prolong the inevitable. It helped that some random farming village's secondary clinician was so understanding and willing to provide that aid - but now, after a year of visits and spinning a Parnassian lie, he's started to care for the clincian, against his better judgement.

W/c: 2.7k

Warnings: meh, fluff, just Itachi going blind and trying to be nice (also him negating to tell our girl that he isn't just some wayward poet)

Notes: totally totally totally inspired by this post by @weeny-mcbitch !! also, was supposed to be a drabble that I stayed up all night to write instead, so lmk if y'all want a part 2, im teeming with ideas rn (also, im working on my requests, i swear to god, this is kinda like a warm up for one of then - whoever sent in that itachi and shisui one ily youre a genius) anyway lmk if this sucks

Masterlist💿

He was such a kind man, there wasn't a thing in the world you wouldn't have done for him, for free. Just his thanks and the small, reluctant smiles he would give you were payment enough.

"I don't want your money, Itachi," you giggled as you reshelved an assortment of herbs. "When have I ever made you pay for my silly, little pills?"

"They're not silly, and you should."

Looking over to him and his holey cloak, you just asked with a grin, "When are you going to let me fix up that ratty cloak of yours, anyway?"

"I'm practically stealing from you as is," he grimaced, holding up the bottle of pills you had just pressed.

Itachi stared at the exam room wall in front of him with wide, unmoving eyes for a moment longer before letting them trail to you. Smiling at him softly, you returned a jar of Goldenseal essence to your wall. His stare made you nervous - it was as if he were looking straight through you, despite an effort. You shelved the final jar and put your hands up, one in front of the other, aimed at Itachi.

"What are you doing?"

"How many fingers am I holding up with the hand closer to you?"

"Why are you doing this?" He asked with a sigh, looking back to the wooden wall in front of him. Dropping your hands, you moved to sit beside Itachi on the bench of your family's exam room.

Your father was your village's clinician, trained by his father and his father before him. He had been training you thusly to carry on the title, which allowed you the facility to care for the wandering ninja before you, whenever he came along. It wasn't terribly often that Itachi would visit, but you always made sure to be thorough in your examination when he would.

"Last time you were here, I noticed you were having some issues with your depth perception. This time, your pupils aren't properly dilating with the light," you told him softly. Itachi just turned his head down to look at the floor instead. Sighing, you put your hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly as you said, "I'm not an optometrist by any stretch, but my cousin is. If you're still here tomorrow afternoon, I can get you an appointment."

"I won't be."

His voice was firm, but had such an feeling of regret attached to it. You frowned, letting his shoulder go. He was an adult, and a wanderer, no less. There wasn't a thing in the world you could do to force Itachi to do anything.

The air in the room had gotten much too thick for your liking. So you smiled, bumping your shoulder against his as you stood again, remarking, "I suppose the life of a travelling poet doesn't allow time for optometry then."

"No, it doesn't..." Itachi trailed off.

You just chuckled lightly, collecting your notes on the wanderer that were strewn across your father's desk. Your desk. The practitioner's desk. A life of poetry and meandering seemed so nice in comparison to your boring life. Though, Itachi never meandered. He never seemed to have the time. You'd think a man of his lifestyle would have all the time in the world.

"Will you ever share one of your poems with me?" You asked, lining your year's worth of papers up before sliding them into your bag.

"What?"

Scared out of your skin, you jumped away from Itachi, who was suddenly standing beside you. He took a step back, extending his arms to you. Itachi's face filled with worry as his cloudy, black eyes jumped around your entire body.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to frighten you, I should have made more noise. I'm so s-"

"It's alright," you murmured, taken by the slight parting of his lips and furrow of his brow. You just stared at his face, heart corralling itself, as a different Itachi stood before you. One you hadn't seen before. Inhaling deeply, you bit down on your lip, murmuring, "As an aside... you smell amazing."

Closing his mouth, Itachi blinked slowly as his expression morphed into that of confusion, then to a slight... well, you didn't know. He just seemed caught off guard, though pleasantly so. Itachi's brow relaxed slightly, and you were blessed with his small smile. The right corner of his mouth lifted just slightly higher as his eyes roamed your face, and Itachi leaned forward unconsciously. You smiled back, collecting the straps of your bag as you maintained your gaze on Itachi.

After a long while, Itachi rubbed the back of his neck, turning his eyes to the ground. "What do I smell like?"

"I dunno," you chuckled, pulling your bag over your shoulder and walking up beside Itachi. You leaned closer to him and took a long breath, deep and thoughtful. Humming, you mumbled, "Like a very foggy forest, I suppose."

"Ugh, that's terribly musky," Itachi complained with a kind of joke in his tone that was foreign to your ear. You smiled as Itachi turned his head to look at you, his minty breath washing over you as he asked hesitantly, "And you... like that?"

"I do, indeed," you confirmed with a nod. "Though, I can smell a distinct lack of mullein on you. Make sure you're steaming those pills properly."

"I do," he replied almost indignantly.

You chuckled as you asked, "With the towel over your head, and all?"

Itachi's nose twitched, nodding, "As embarrassing and time consuming as it is, yes."

"What colours come up after?"

"Black, and blood."

"Are you coughing while over the pot?"

Itachi's face scrunched up at your question. "No, ew, why would I-"

"Don't cough into the pot, take your head out for a second," you laughed, shaking your head. Walking to the exam room door, you flicked off the lights, allowing the moonlight from the window to illuminate the room. "You shouldn't suppress your coughs, that will only make you cough harder when you give in."

You opened the door and turned back to the beautiful, black haired poet. He stood by the desk, nodding silently and softly. Itachi's large eyes reflected the shine of the moon so wonderfully, it was like you could see the individual beams as they touched the different shades of his dark irises. 

Eh, what the Hell. "Care to walk me home, or does the Poet's Life not allow time for that either?"

Elegant as a dancer, Itachi swiveled on his heel and came to you with his small smile returned to his full lips. His cloak swished as he walked toward you, his footsteps no louder than those of the smallest mouse in the largest church. Voice as rich as your grandmother's chocolate cake, Itachi hummed,

"I can make the time, if only for you."

"Oh, stop, now you're just flirting with me," you grinned as the black haired man followed you out of the primary exam room.

"And if I am?"

"Well," you grinned with a blush, locking the door. "Then I would smile, kiss you, and say thank you."

"Then I'm awaiting your kiss."

"You're awfully bold this evening, Itachi," you giggled, hooking your arm into his as you began to walk down the short hallway of exam rooms.

He smiled, looking straight forward as he walked with you, putting his other hand over yours. Just his presence was so calming, but it was like contact with him put your soul in a trance. Nothing bothered your mind, nothing nagged - everything felt peaceful, or at least tentatively so. The two of you swept into the waiting room and you both turned back to lock the door to the hallway.

"Do you have a boyfriend? A husband?"

"Cripes, Itachi, how old do you think I am? A husband?" You exclaimed with a laugh.

"You said you were nineteen a few months ago," Itachi said with a gentle voice. "A young woman like you... you should have a husband... someone to love you."

"Lots of people love me," you replied, mocking his earlier indignance, pulling Itachi through the dark waiting room.

"That's not what I meant," he sighed, pursing his lips. You frowned a bit, recognizing he thought you were upset. Itachi's hand stiffened over yours, as if he was worried you would let go. Drawing a deep breath, he clarified slowly, "I meant... I'm sorry, I just- you're so... it's unbelievable that no one has... you must decline a thousand proposals a day, is what I mean."

"Awfully poetic wording," you remarked jokingly.

Opening the front door of the clinic, you and Itachi squeezed through together while you chewed on your lip. The night air was crisp, wrapping you in a ticklish blanket, which had you you tighten your grip around Itachi's bicep. The muscle rippled beneath your fingers as Itachi pulled you a step closer to him while you locked the final door.

"My dad takes care of that for me," you admitted, drawing him down the steps of your family's clinic and onto the dirt road. "He needs me at the clinic, and in the garden, and at home - one day, he'll decide we need a next generation to continue the clinic, but I've still got a few more years."

Looking over, you remarked the frown that had settled onto Itachi's lips. Still staring ahead, Itachi looked genuinely upset by your words, almost troubled.

"I wish... I'm sorry," he simply said.

"Not your fault, poet," you shrugged, rubbing small circles into his bicep. "I'm content. I've got a job, a small nation's worth of friends, and the attention of the most handsome ninja in the world."

"Who?" Itachi snapped, head swiveling so quickly you could hear a small crunch of cartilidge.

With a chuckle, you shook his arm. "Don't tell me you're losing your sharpness along with your eyesight." Itachi quirked his eyebrow at you, squinting as he did. You snickered, "You, Itachi, are the most handsome ninja- no, human - and you're gorgeous. Drop-dead gorgeous."

"Now you're just flirting with me."

"I am, but I'm also telling the honest truth," you replied, feeling like your heart was going to beat out of your chest at any second.

Looking forward, you could make out the lights of your house in the distance. You turned your head up, hearing the crickets' chirps and the soft breaths Itachi took. The stars above where abundant in the black canvas of the sky, the white and yellow specks flickered in every corner, as far as the eye could see. Right in the center of the sky, directly above the two of you, a big, bright, full moon shone, bathing your little village in silver glow. Everything seemed so perfect, so picturesque - as if the whole world was as calm as you. Perhaps it was, if only while you walked with Itachi.

"Do you know any of the constellations?" Itachi asked you gently, only a few paces from your house.

"Not a one, you?"

"I could draw you a map of the sky, if you wanted me to."

You looked over casually as Itachi raised his eyes to the sky. He began squinting and widening his eyes, pupils stagnant and his eyes dry. Despite the obvious troubles, Itachi raised his hand from yours and pointed. Your eyes followed up his arm, his index finger drawing a strange figure eight in the Northern sky as he mumbled,

"There... do you see a really bright star and a kind of fish shape?"

Matching his squint, you looked where he pointed. Itachi's finger was a ways off the brightest star in that direction, but you assumed that was the star he meant.

"I see the bright one, I think, but the fish is a bit tough."

"Well, the star is called Vega, and the constellation is Lyra," he told you, bringing his hand back to rest atop yours on his bicep. Itachi squeezed your hand to his muscle and he continued, "It's a lyre, like the one Orpheus played."

"Who's Orpheus? And who's the liar?"

"A lyre is a harp of sorts, but Orpheus' is a very long story, sweetheart," Itachi chuckled lowly as the two of you approached your house.

With a shrug, you pulled him to the stairs to your door and sat on the second step, letting go of his arm.

"I've got the time for a story."

Smiling, Itachi sat next to you and began, "Then forget Orpheus for a second while I tell you about Jason."

Over the hours of the night, Itachi divulged the epic legends of Jason and his Argonauts, shifting to Orpheus and Eurydice after. You listened with rapt attention, clinging to every word as he gesticulated wildly. Itachi painted such vivid imagery with his tongue that you had no doubt he was a poet. Of course people would pay to listen to his voice, to be taken into a world of his creation.

As he recited the tales, you asked him questions. Silly, little questions, you thought, but they derailed him greatly, sending him on tangents about different translations and different versions of the same myth.

"He has to turn around."

"But he can't, you just said that was the rule."

"What would you do, if your love refused to look at you?" Itachi asked, eyes locked with yours.

You shrugged and yawned, "I dunno, you're always staring at me."

"Okay, then think," he chuckled. "I'm in front of you, and you can only see the back of my head, as we walk out of Hell."

"Sounds alright."

"We're in Hell though, sweetheart," Itachi reminded you with a smug smile. "The ground is alive, only to trip you - demons are swarming and taunting us - we're surrounded by danger. And I don't look back... I don't check if you're still with me, or if you're alright."

"Oh, I get it, I get it," you hummed with a nod. "But still, we would be fine, as soon as we're safe on Earth."

"Eurydice didn't think so." Itachi tore his eyes away from yours, looking to the sky as it lightened. "In the one version where Orpheus doesn't turn, Eurydice turned back. She returned to Hell, not wanting to live if Orpheus didn't care enough to check on her."

"That's terribly sad, Itachi."

He looked back to you, smiling softly despite your words. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I don't mean to sadden you."

"I'm not sad." You yawned again, leaning on Itachi's shoulder. "Not sad at all."

"I should let you go in, get some sleep while you still can."

"Next time you come, you should stay with me," you suggested, almost ignoring his attempt to leave. "You could stay for a few days even, get some proper writing in. The village isn't awe-inspiring, but we've got a few nice streams and valleys."

Itachi took a deep breath, then leaned his head against yours gently. The two of you sat on your step, simply breathing together as the sky shifted from a navy blue to a darling lilac. Slowly, the stars that Itachi seemed to know so much about faded into the distance, leaving you only a twinkle in your mind to mark their presence. Birds stirred awake, the hatchlings cheeping desperately for breakfast from their diligent parents. The birds awoke the cicadas, who started their droning early, before the sun even began to rear it's stunning halo over the horizon.

The silence that you and the wandering poet had constructed began to seep away as the farmers began their morning duties. Machinery whirred to life, and farmhands slowly started stumbling from their houses, on their ways to their contracts.

No louder than a whisper, Itachi mumbled, "I need to go."

"Why? A limerick on the tip of your tongue?"

"You could say that," he smiled, lifting his head off of yours slowly. Once you raised your head from his shoulder, Itachi stood and extended his hand to you. You took it gratefully, and Itachi added, "I'll come back soon."

"I hope," you replied honestly, squeezing his hand. Itachi's Obsidian eyes flickered around your face, his pupils dilating wide. You grinned, "I'll work on some eyedrops for you - I can't restore muscle, but I can help qualm the dryness."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to."

"Okay," Itachi whispered.

Carefully, he brought his free hand to your face, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb as his fingers pressed against your jaw.

When you leaned against him, Itachi let go of your hand, in favour of cupping your face on either side. You rested your palms around his thick, bare, scarred forearms, as the tattered sleeves of his cloak had fallen to his elbows. For a minute, you and Itachi stood in the quiet of the morning as his fingers gently roamed around your face. They brushed down your nose, feeling each dip in your jaw and temples, gently squeezing the flesh of your cheek. Everywhere he touched, a trail of tingling fire was left, making your heart bounce around in your chest. Itachi's small smile grew on his face, deepening from a simple smirk to a full-blown beam.

Blinking a few times, Itachi said, a decibel louder, "You are... very, very pretty, Y/n."

You smiled, leaning forward to the balls of your feet. Lingering for only a second, you pressed a kiss to Itachi's cheek. His face bloomed quite the rosy red, as you said,

"Thank you."

[helixobesity]

Stay in Bed

That’s what the doctor told you to do after all. Hell even when the world was locked down you couldn’t stay still, always working out, finding something to keep yourself occupied. There was never a second you stayed still since you wanted to watch your weight, your friends might have let themselves go but you were determined not to let that happen then and kept that mentality for years to come.

Of course that was before you had a little accident.

It was just a simple slip and fall, you even got right up afterwards. It wasn’t long until a quick doctors visit told you to stay off your leg for the next 12 weeks as it healed. Now, you were stuck at home, needing to stay in bed as much as possible.

The first week was horribly boring, working from home wasn’t an option for you for the time being. Of course you spent the time reading, watching shows, movie and whatever else. Then your stomach quietly growled. You still had plenty at home to continue your extremely healthy diet… for a few days. Then you were forced to turn to takeout and delivery. That’s when it started.

Maybe it was something deep inside you finally being let out or something else new all together. You started to gorge yourself day in and day out. As the days turned to weeks, eating was your new way to cope with boredom and you loved it. A box of snack cakes wouldn’t last more than a few hours, pizza deliveries that were once a cheap day became daily. From small to medium to large.

3 weeks in now as your belly, once toned and slim, laid in your lap round and full, you knew you shouldn’t be eating this much. Yet you couldn’t help yourself. You didn’t realize it but gluttony had already taken hold of you. Your arms lost definition, your cheeks began to fill out a bit more, and your chin began to double just a smidge. You needed to eat more.

Soon enough though, the change had already been finalized. 12 weeks came and went. You were fat now. You’d outgrown all your clothes, you’d gained more weight than you thought possible. You weren’t going to stop now. Your life became a cycle of obesity, overeating and gaining more weight. All it took was one small misstep, and your life changed for the better.

So why don’t you stay in bed and eat more for me like a good piggy~

🌀💿🌀💿🌀💿🌀

[animalcrossing-skye]

Visited the dreamy Pigeonhole by @welcome-to-pigeonhole

This island really resonated with me. Pigeonhole is a surreal island that feels distorted and comforting at the same time. It has such a unique color scheme and sense of style! Really a must visit. Visit OPs dream address post for some mild tws.

🫧🌼☁️🧸🧃💿

DA-5041-0829-5394

[faecaribou]

Stardew Valley Tumblr Simulator

📚 solarian_bookworm

Hey guys! Any tips on how to get this little boy I'm tutoring to actually pay attention to my lessons? He's not very good at reading, but I'm even letting him pick out which books and he still can't focus! We don't have good education where I'm from (Pelican Town) so any chance he has at learning is from me. How do I help him?

🎷 zuzu-zoomer Follow

Feed him a stew that makes him go blind

🧭 stardewexplorer Follow

feed him the stew that makes you blind for one day

🎡 fuck-gotoro Follow

stew that blinds him for one day

⚅ desert-clubber Follow

Perhaps feed him a stew that makes him go blind for one day?

🪩 insomniac-boy Follow

1 day blinding stew

✨ sparkle-on Follow

wait guys isnt pelican town the place where once a year when the governor visits everyone puts an ingredient into a big pot and they make a stew and everyone eats from it??? dont give this poor girl this advice 😭😭😭😭😭

🎷 zuzu-zoomer Follow

lmao thats hilarious. do it

📚 solarian_bookworm

...I think I'll just ask his mom for advice. Thanks though...

250 notes

🧵 parrot-enthusiast

halfway through the brand new dress! embroidering it is taking forever ugh

3 notes

🗺️ superhaterlock Follow

Solarian Chronicles sucks

📔 sc-fanatic Follow

if you say one more word on this subject im going to kill you

🗺️ superhaterlock Follow

I just don't get why defending and healing gives you a better score than attacking

📔 sc-fanatic Follow

oh you mean the rpg game based on the books. continue

💿 seb-codes

:( i like the game

30 notes

🎸 pop_punkist

Come see my band perform live tonight at Zuzu City!

🚙 jojacolaaddict Follow

Hi yes I'd like to file a complaint. i went to your concert and I saw that damn eldritch monster that I swear I saw last week. What the fuck is that and what meme did I miss

🎸 pop_punkist

uh. are you talking about the farmer? they're actually the one who helped me start my bad they're sick as fuck. do you mind

🚙 jojacolaaddict Follow

what the fuck is the farmer

15 notes

💣 back-in-town Follow

AITA for yelling at my wife?

I just came home from active deployment against the Gotoro army. i lost a lot of friends in the war. I was having a bad day and my wife tried to make my popcorn to cheer it up because it used to be my favorite but it reminded me of the bombs. I yelled at her that she should know better but the local farmer was at our house and told me not to take out my pain on my wife. Am I the asshole?

🎡 fuck-gotoro Follow

NTA thank you for your service. if she did any kind of research on how to help people with PTSD from the war she would know to not be making loud banging noises like that

🏴‍☠️ piratewreck Follow

What? YTA why would his wife know. she was trying to make his favorite food. she should divorce him

28 notes

I started this tumblr stimulator post and then forgot about it and gave up 😭

[enhypendata]

[JAY] I’ll return as an artist who can give our ENGENE more awards 🔥 My first visit to Indonesia was really fun, thank you and I love you ENGENE from all over the world 💛💿

[marimayscarlett]

'Herzeleid' turns 29 today 💿🎶

Rammstein's first album 'Herzeleid' was released on the 25th of September in 1995, 29 years from today.

The album was recorded in Stockholm, Sweden, partly at Polar Studios (built for ABBA back then), mostly for bass, drums and some guitar tracks, and partly at the private studio of Jacob Hellner and Carl-Michael Herlöfsson, the producers of this album, where the main recording of the guitars as well as Till's singing took place. The band actually wanted to have Greg Hunter as a producer, yet he wasn't that thrilled as he visited one of the band's practices and reportedly fell asleep during it.

A famous and integral part of the album is of course the song "Du riechst so gut" - for this song, the band wished for a special effect for the line "Der Wahnsinn...", is it should sound like it would come from a telephone line. To achieve that, one of the band members went out to a Stockholm subway, wearing nothing but a white t-shirt, suspenders, boots, and shorts. From the subway, he called the studio and repeated the line "Der Wahnsinn" over and over again in different intonations. As a result, a worried passer-by called the police, reporting a man shouting German phrases into a phone.

The first mix of the album was done by Hellner and Herlöfsson as well, and Richard was present as the only band member during this mixing. He wasn't satisfied with the result, and called the rest of the band, the management and the label Motor Music. It was collectively decided that they needed a new person for mixing the sound, and as a result, a second mixing session took place in Hamburg at the Chateau du Pape studios, together with the producer Ronald Prent. For each song, several mixing version were produced, and each of the versions were discussed by the band.

In total, 18 songs were procuded in 6 weeks. The seven songs which didn't make it on the album are most likely: Feuerräder, Jeder lacht, Schwarzes Glas, Wilder Wein, Alter Mann, Sadist and an untitled instrumental.

The album was firstly released with a "Riech!" ("Smell!") box, which contained the album (sometimes also the single "Du riechst so gut", sometimes only the single), a small bottle of Calvin Klein's "Obession" as well as several promotion sheets with a epic 'description' of the band and their style (read it here in the rammwiki article).

The album cover of "Herzeleid" sparked heated discussions. Flake said in an interview that newspapers had accused the band members of portraying themselves as "members of a master race" (german: Herrenmenschen) on the front cover. The band firmly rejected this allegation. But the band itself wasn't exactly thrilled with the cover either. Richard said in an interview that the cover looked like an advertisement for gay porn. The band had the photos for the cover taken in a parking lot without thinking about the result.

Alternative covers for the North America version as well as the XXV Anniversary Version, as well as the polish version in cassette form:

More various facts:

The Rammstein menhir was an additional promotional item, which was send out about 50 times to selected record stores to be used as a presentation spot for the albums. It's to this day one of the rarest Rammstein items, eventhough it has been sold over ebay several times.

When "Herzeleid" was released in 1995, it only reached number 99 in the German charts. It was only after "Sehnsucht" was released two years later that "Herzeleid" reached its highest chart position at number 6.

The first album after the album release was held on the 13th of october 1995 in Zurich, Switzerland, which marked the 9th concert in their Herzeleid tour and the first Rammstein concert outside of Germany.

On some early pressings of "Herzeleid", the words "Schulhof" and "töten" in the song "Weisses Fleisch" are censored by beeps.

The track "Wollt ihr das Bett in Flammen sehen" contains samples from the PC game "Doom". A scream from the game character and the shotgun being fired can be heard.

In the chorus of the track “Heirate mich”, Till Lindemann sings the syllables "Hei, Hei, Hei". This was interpreted by some critics as "Heil, Heil, Heil" and therefore as a right-wing extremist and national socialist message. The band defends itself against this interpretation.

Sources: rammwiki, radiobob

[missmisnomer]

I think getting one of those goose lawn ornaments that I can decorate with silly little outfits would actually fix me.

Now imagine seeing him in my house, sitting next to the front door to welcome you whenever you come to visit. You never know what to expect. Will he be a little prospector this time? ⛏️Or perhaps a tiny BestBuy employee in a horrid blue polo?💿 Maybe even an old Victorian man about to be haunted by three ghosts for his crimes against Christmas?🎄

Do you see it? Do you see my vision?

[magnetictapedatastorage]

Your local library's got the G💿💿DS !

If you'd like to relive the 🎫Blockbuster Experience🍿 in person and without spending a dime... visit your local library!

Seriously! Grab a friend (optional, igi) browse what's available, and borrow a heaping armful of 🎦movies! borrow whatever catches your eye, no need to hold back, because it's FREE. Pretty much any game console or computer with a disk drive can read a DVD.

I've got nothing against pirates, we're all pirates here, but we can be ✨library-card carrying pirates✨😇😇😇

[curetsun]

💿 by 耕(おさむ) ※If you like this artwork please support the artist by visiting the source!

[kingofbodyrolls]

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

🐴Chapter summary: Taehyung tries his best to fit in on the ranch, and you and Jimin visit a second hand shop to get decor for your rebuilt ranch. But something happens on the way home that will alter your future together.

🐴Chapter title: Love of Your Life

🐴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: explicit smut in the form of unprotected sex, nipple play, spanking, dirty/sweet talk, multiple orgasms, praise kink, marking, biting, back scratching, hair pulling, crying, rain, like a loooot of rain (yes this is a warning and you will understand later), melancholy, happy tears, promises and confessions.

🐴Status: completed 🥳

🐴Word count: 13.3k

🐴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 💿 “All I See” by Kate Voegele. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?]

🐴Author’s note: welcome to sunshine and rainbows!!!!! Finally! All the angst is gone, and it’s time to bask in all the love and glory ☀️ This was so fun for me to write, I’ve honestly been excited to write this chapter FOR MONTHS. So I’m so happy with it, I love it 😭 I really hope you do too— please let me know 💜

You can send in your questions for the characters or me here → Ask away 💜*

*for people on AO3 you can also participate if you want to, just leave a comment (guest/anon or not), and I’ll reply to that and I’ll add your question in the Epilogue💜

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

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next →

“Your touch is soft And it makes me tremble In your armsIt feels so right” - ‘Trust the Night’ by Rebecca Lavelle

You gently straddle Jimin’s slumbering figure, leaning close to his ear as you murmur softly, “Jimin, my love, wake up.”

You hear him emit a soft groan beneath you, prompting you to press your needy core against his crotch, causing a shiver to run down his spine as a low, guttural moan escapes his lips.

As he gradually emerges from his slumber, his expression carries a drowsy allure, a mix of exhaustion and irresistible charm. His tousled blonde locks frame his face in disarray, accentuating his soft, almost angelic features. With a gentle flutter, his eyelashes part, revealing the depth of his sleepy gaze, stirring a whirlwind of butterflies within your stomach.

He shifts beneath you, your thighs snugly framing his sturdy body, and he grumbles softly, his voice laced with the remnants of sleep. “What’s wrong, love?” He drawls, his words slow and husky, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

His teeth graze his lower lip, a subtle gesture that sends a surge of desire coursing through you as you feel his dick harden against your folds. You rock against him, craving the delicious friction, and a low groan escapes his lips. Though he’s still tired and not fully awake, his body instinctively responds to your rhythm, his arousal evident despite his drowsiness.

“I want you babe, so bad,” you murmur huskily into his ear, your breath hot against his skin. He chuckles in response, his chest rising and falling beneath your hands.

With a playful smirk, he finally opens his eyes fully, the warmth in them sending shivers down your spine. His hands wander to the curve of your hips, drawing you closer as he teases, “Needy, huh?” His grip tightens, pulling you into him with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

His playful tone dances in the air as he teases, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “You’re not wearing panties?” He asks, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. His gaze drifts lower, down to where your pussy grinds over him, and he grins knowingly. “And you’re already dripping. Did you have a wet dream?” He adds with a suggestive raise of his eyebrow, his voice laced with playful temptation.

You grind down on him again, your voice is high, almost airy and incredibly needy, “I did.” You confess as you drag out the words in the rhythm of your movements as you drag your slick pussy over him, his dick teasing your folds. Each friction sends electric pulses through your body, leaving you yearning for more of him, oh God, you’ll never get enough of his dick.

“Then help yourself,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, as he intertwines his fingers behind his head, accentuating the grace of his muscular frame. Your eyes roam hungrily over his form, captivated by the effortless allure he exudes. With a soft, inviting smile, he reclines on the bed, the epitome of relaxed confidence, beckoning you closer with an inviting gesture. Caught in the magnetic pull of his gaze, you hesitate for a moment, questioning him with wide eyes.

You’re so needy, the lust coursing through your veins like a tidal wave— the memory of your dream, where he took you from behind with your face shoved down into the sheets has left you dripping. With a needy whimper, you realize that he’s serious. He really wants you to just do everything yourself and simply take him like that. Somehow that thought alone makes you even wetter, and you finally begin to move your body, just a bit off him, so you can grab his boxers and slide them down his powerful thighs.

With a throaty chuckle, he watches as you rid him of the garment, tossing it aside with theatrical flair. His laughter fills the room, a symphony of desire harmonizing with your own as you sweep the duvet aside, to make more space for you.

You straddle him once more, a low moan escaping your lips as his unclothed dick comes in contact with your slippery pussy, sending electric tingles through your body. The sensation alone is intoxicating, but you crave more, yearning for the fullness only he can provide. You want all of him lodged deep inside you. Fuck. With a suppressed curse, you bite down on your lip, gradually lifting your body, aligning your throbbing pussy with his dick.

You grab his cock, lowering yourself onto him with tantalizing slowness, a gasp escaping your lips as he stretches you deliciously wide. Each inch of him sliding inside sends shivers of ecstasy coursing through your veins. You love this feeling, being filled like this by him— you can never get enough of it. With each deliberate movement, you moan softly, relishing every moment, wanting to etch it into memory. As you finally cast your gaze upon him, his expression is a portrait of pure bliss, his features sculpted by pleasure. His lips part in silent rapture, his eyes, though almost closed, fixated on you, drinking in every detail, every nuance of your body.

You finally meet his skin at the base, your bodies melding in a primal embrace, taking in every inch of his girthy cock. “Jimin,” you exhale, the name a reverent whisper as you rest your hands upon his chest, seeking stability amidst the whirlwind of sensation. For a heartbeat, you simply remain still, savoring the electric lust between you, and you catch the playful glint in his eyes, a knowing smirk dancing upon his lips.

“You wanted to fuck me, then get to work love and show me what you’ve got,” he teases, his voice dripping with desire and a hint of mischief. He reclines leisurely, every line of his body exuding anticipation, silently urging you to take the lead and unleash your passion upon him.

You groan deeply, a surge of arousal flooding through your core, as you slowly lift your hips and then lower them again, each movement accompanied by a fervent moan. The sensation of him filling you so completely ignites an inferno of pleasure within your depths, leaving you intoxicated with desire.

You establish a deliberate rhythm, each movement a tantalizing dance upon his incredible dick. Jimin’s unwavering gaze follows your every motion, and though you’ve shared such intimate moments countless times, the intensity of his stare sends shivers down your spine, igniting a blush that spreads like wildfire across your skin. Maybe it’s the raw vulnerability of this position or the newfound sense of empowerment that leaves you feeling exposed, but as you surrender to the ecstasy and lust, you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Fuck, babe, you look absolutely stunning riding me like this,” he pants, his voice thick with desire. His hands, which had been idly resting behind his head, suddenly find purchase on your hips, fingers digging into the supple flesh with a satisfying slap. “And the way you’re taking me, fuck, it’s like you were made for this,” he groans, his arousal evident in every word.

“Get that shirt off,” he commands, his voice low and urgent, the desire evident in his tone. “I need to see those gorgeous tits of yours.” His hands grip the hem of your nightshirt, which is actually one of his, and he pulls it upward with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine. You’ve taken to wearing his shirts to bed, finding comfort in their familiar scent, a constant reminder of him even when right next to you.

You comply eagerly, crossing your arms and grasping the fabric of the shirt tightly. With a swift motion, you peel it off your body, revealing your breasts, their gentle sway drawing Jimin’s gaze like a magnet. His hands tighten on your ass, his touch electric against your skin as he hungrily takes in the sight before him, a hunger burning in his eyes.

Your hair cascades around your face like a veil as you continue to ride him at a leisurely pace, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, each one laced with anticipation. Despite the blissful sensation washing over you, a primal urge begins to stir within, urging you to quicken your pace, to chase that elusive peak of ecstasy that awaits you.

With a surge of desire coursing through you, you amplify the rhythm of your movements, grinding your hips against his throbbing dick. Yet, despite the primal intensity of the moment, Jimin’s hands rest on your hips without guiding or directing you; you’re in complete control.

God you love this— you enjoy being in control like this, but you equally love it when he just rams himself into you uncontrollably, or when his touch is slow and tender. Fuck, you love it all. It’s the entirety of his essence, the fierce intensity, the tender intimacy, that leaves you utterly enraptured.

You continue to ride him with fervor, each bounce driving you deeper onto his dick until you can feel the delicious pressure of his balls against your ass.

Every sensation is heightened, every movement sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. You arch your back, seeking the perfect angle to hit your g-spot, and when you finally find it, it’s like fireworks exploding behind your eyelids, your entire body alight with the ecstasy of his touch.

As you pant for air and moan, the exertion of maintaining the pace begins to take its toll. You gradually slow down, but compensate by riding him deeper, each thrust driving his cock to graze your sensitive spot with even more intensity.

Your fingers tremble on his chest, a silent plea for him to reciprocate the intensity coursing through your body. Biting your bottom lip, you observe his nonchalant expression, seemingly unaffected by the passionate dance unfolding between you. Despite the beads of sweat forming on your brow, there’s not a drop to be seen on his honey-kissed skin. Exhaustion begins to creep in, weighing heavy on your limbs, but driven by the mounting arousal coiling in the pit of your stomach, you press on. You’re on a relentless mission to chase down your orgasm, every movement calculated to edge you closer to that elusive climax.

“Are you close, love?” He teases, his voice laced with playful anticipation, punctuated by a chuckle that dances through the air like a mischievous melody.

You nod eagerly, your breath hitching as you admit, “I am. But I need you,” each word punctuated by the rhythm of your body moving sinuously up and down his throbbing dick.

He raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m not doing anything or helping you,” he quips, his teasing tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“But I need you. I need your hands on my boobs,” you plead, your voice tinged with desperation as you teeter on the brink of release— you just need that little thing to push you over the edge. “Please,” you implore, leaning into him, your boobs pressing against his chest. “Just touch my tits, please.”

You observe him closely, noting the flicker of conflict in his eyes as he wrestles with the decision. His brow furrows in silent contemplation, betraying the inner turmoil he’s experiencing. You recognize that familiar crease of indecision on his forehead, a telltale sign that he’s grappling with his resolve. You know all too well that he always has a hard time saying no to you, his resistance crumbling under the weight of your persuasive plea.

With a decisive grunt, his hands abandon their hold on your hips, embarking on a tantalizing journey toward your awaiting breasts. His touch ignites a fiery anticipation within you, each caress a promise of impending ecstasy. “Fine,” he concedes with a playful lilt in his voice, “I’ll help you.”

As his fingers encircle your taut nipples, a wave of intense pleasure courses through you, eliciting a passionate cry of his name. “Thank you,” you exclaim with a breathless fervor, gratitude and desire intertwining in your voice.

You ride him with fervent abandon, as he skillfully toys with your breasts, his fingers teasing and tantalizing your hardened peaks. Each tug and caress sends electric currents of arousal pulsating through your entire being.

“Shit, Jimin,” you gasp, your voice strained with lust, feeling the tension within you building to its breaking point. Despite the exhaustion and the trembling in your thighs, you refuse to relent, driven by an insatiable desire to reach the peak of pleasure. “I’m coming,” you moan, the words escaping in a fervent declaration of impending release. As the wave of orgasm crashes over you, your body tenses, and you feel every muscle contract around his throbbing dick, your essence flooding over him in a torrent of blissful surrender, painting his cock with your essence that trails all the way down to his balls.

His fingers tighten around your breasts, eliciting a shiver of pleasure as he watches you unravel in ecstasy. “Fuck, you’re stunning when you come,” he breathes, his voice laced with awe and desire, his eyes tracing every quiver and tremble of your body as you succumb to the overwhelming waves of pleasure.

You collapse against him, feeling his dick still pulsing within you, aching for release. With exhaustion clouding your senses, you gaze down at him, your voice soft and pleading. “Jimin, can you... take over and fuck me?” you ask, your words a gentle plea. “I want you to finish too, but I’m... so tired. My thighs... They are so sore.”

He chuckles, a knowing gleam in his eyes that tells you he anticipated this moment. His hands, familiar and possessive, return to your ass, and with a swift motion, he delivers a playful spank, reigniting the flames of arousal coursing through your veins. 

“Can’t fuck yourself on me anymore?” He teases, his voice laced with desire, as you feel his dick twitch inside you.

“I want to, but my thighs,” you plead with him, your touch grazing over his chest, tracing the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

With a sudden fluidity, he wraps his arms around your back, effortlessly flipping you both around, leaving you wide-eyed as you find yourself beneath him, him over you, his dick still nestled inside your pussy. His face hovers above yours, a smirk playing on his lips as he presses down, his warm breath brushing against your skin. “You want me to finish what you started?” He murmurs, his voice laced with desire and mischief.

His voice drips with a potent mix of danger and desire, its weight hanging heavy in the air, sending tantalizing shivers cascading down your spine.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, you’re begging for it?” He taunts once more, his voice laden with desire as he presses his dick deeper inside you. Fuck, you just want him to move, for him to fuck you so good.

Your desperation mounts, compelling you to plead with him once more, your voice raw with need as he remains motionless within you. “Jimin, please,” you implore, your urgency palpable, “I need you to fuck me, now. Please.”

With a primal hunger, he descends upon your neck, his kisses igniting a fire within you, his bite both painful and intoxicating, but he soothes it with his breath. As he moves upward, his breath hot against your ear, he whispers, “Oh, I’ll fuck you until you can’t think straight, love. So you can finally rest those gorgeous thighs of yours.”

As he finally starts to move within you, every thrust feels like a divine revelation. You can’t help but moan at the sheer ecstasy coursing through your body, each sensation more intoxicating than the last. Damn, it’s beyond good.

He establishes a rhythm that’s slow yet intense, each thrust penetrating you so deep it’s enough to ignite fireworks in your mind.

“Yes, Jimin, right there!” You cry out, his precise thrusts hitting you in all the perfect spots, his lips on your neck, leaving a trail of sensations that electrify your entire being. You can feel your pussy tightening with each movement, his bites sending a delicious shiver down your spine. You just know he’s leaving marks on your skin again, but fuck, you both love that.

“You just love my cock so much, you can never get enough of it?” He bends down and whispers in your ear, and it sends shivers down your spine, so much so that you can feel how all the hairs over your body raise in anticipation. You moan in pleasure, as your hands travel to his back, where your nails dig into his honey-kissed skin.

“Yes,” you moan, surrendering to the pleasure coursing through you, “I love your cock, can’t get enough of it, or you.” Your words are punctuated by the exquisite sensations of his deep and slow thrusts, making you feel so close to another orgasm.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs huskily, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine, “can’t get enough of you or your pussy either.” His lips find solace on your neck once more, teasingly nibbling and sucking on your skin, igniting a wildfire of sensations within you.

And then it hits you like a tidal wave, that electrifying surge as the coil inside you snaps and your entire being is engulfed in the ecstasy of another orgasm. Your pussy clenches frantically around his dick, milking him with every pulsating wave of pleasure. You’re lost in a symphony of moans and pants, his relentless thrusts fueling the fire as he continues to kiss and nibble at your neck, amplifying the sensation to unimaginable heights.

“Fuck,” you moan, every syllable a testament to the whirlwind of lust swirling within you, enveloping you in a delicious haze of pleasure. In this moment, you feel utterly consumed, every fiber of your being vibrating with a primal satisfaction, as if you couldn't possibly contain all the desire coursing through your veins.

Jimin leans up, his gaze a fiery fusion of love and raw desire, igniting an inferno of longing within you. With a tender yet commanding touch, he lifts one of your legs, cradling it against his body, before repeating the motion with the other, each movement deliberate and intoxicating. As he leans closer down to you, you feel how sore your thighs really are, as he stretches them out for you in the process, and then, he quickens his pace, fucking you faster than before.

You’re swept away in a whirlwind of sensation, barely able to catch your breath as he relentlessly drives you to the brink and beyond. With each thrust, he propels you further into the depths of ecstasy, seamlessly transitioning from one climax to the next, until you’re consumed by a tidal wave of pleasure, threatening to wash over you.

Jimin’s primal groans fill the air, mixing with the rhythmic symphony of skin on skin as he drives into you with unrestrained intensity. His face, a canvas of raw pleasure, tells a story of desire as he relentlessly pounds into you. With each thrust, the bed creaks beneath you, and your hands grips the sheets tightly as you surrender to the lust running through your veins.

You sense his impending release in the ferocity of his thrusts, each one driving you closer to the edge. Your own climax builds, a tidal wave of pleasure gathering strength with each movement. The intensity of the moment ignites a fire within you, burning hotter and more fiercely than ever before.

Every fiber of your being is ablaze with ecstasy as you lock eyes with Jimin, his hazel eyes a mesmerizing blend of desire and devotion. With ragged breaths, you confess, “Fuck, Jimin. I’m gonna come again.”

As beads of sweat finally cascade down his glistening body, a few droplets find their way onto your chest, trickling sensually between your breasts. His demeanor, a mix of intensity and restraint, is nothing short of sinful. His brows knit together, lips caught between his teeth, and as he inches closer to the brink of ecstasy his nose begins to scrunch, and you find yourself captivated by his raw, primal allure. It’s a sight you relish, a testament to the intoxicating power he holds over you.

His voice, ragged and urgent, cuts through the air like a primal plea. “Fuck, yeah, come again, before me, babe,” he urges, the words tumbling from his lips in a breathless rush. You can sense the urgency in his tone, a desperate need for release that mirrors your own. He’s held back his own climax for what feels like an eternity, and now, he’s almost there.

As he thrusts deeply into your pulsating pussy, you surrender to another wave of pleasure, your essence surging around him like a wild, untamed force. The world around you blurs as your senses are consumed by ecstasy, your vision dimming at the edges— you feel so gone. With a shuddering sigh, you close your eyes, savoring every electrifying sensation of him buried deep within you.

“Fuck, love,” he pants, his fingers digging into your thighs as he plunges deeper, his rhythm slowing as he approaches his climax. With bated breath, you watch his expression intensify, his eyes fluttering shut, his nose scrunching in that adorable way you love. A guttural moan escapes his parted lips, your name a whispered mantra on his tongue. The sight of his release nearly overwhelms you, a surge of desire igniting within you, tempting you to join him in another orgasm.

He fills you up with his warm seed, his movements still gentle yet purposeful, blending your fluids together in a passionate fusion. You’re certain most of it trickles out, staining the sheets below, but at this moment, neither of you gives it a second thought. The sheets can be washed later anyway.

He gasps for precious air, his fingers threading through his tousled locks, his lip caught between his teeth in a display of post-climax bliss. As his gaze meets yours, you see the raw emotion there, an unspoken language of love that binds you together, stronger than ever before.

“Good morning, my love,” he murmurs, releasing your legs to slide gently down the sides of his body. Leaning in, he presses a tender kiss to your lips, igniting a warmth that spreads from your mouth to your fingertips.

You thread your fingers through his tousled hair, playfully tugging at the strands, and as you release, you meet his gaze with a tender smile. “Good morning,” you whisper, your voice carrying the warmth of a new day and the promise of endless affection.

He settles his weight atop you, his presence a comforting weight against your skin, and you revel in the sensation of his warmth enveloping you. Despite the softening of his dick inside you, you relish the intimacy, content to stay intertwined in each other’s embrace for what feels like an eternity. Time seems to melt away in the blissful haze of the moment, where nothing else matters except the connection between your bodies.

“We really should get up,” Jimin chuckles as he reluctantly lifts himself from your body. You emit a groan of protest, the thought of spending the entire day wrapped up in your boyfriend’s arms, fucking each other the whole day is tempting you to stay in bed indefinitely.

He withdraws from you, and you can sense the trickle of liquid escaping your pussy, coursing down your ass and staining the sheets beneath you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean you up,” Jimin assures you, swiftly donning his boxers before darting downstairs to the bathroom, his footsteps echoing in the silent house.

He returns with a handful of washcloths, his presence comforting as he approaches your side. Gently, he parts your legs with his hands, his touch igniting a delicate warmth that courses through your body. As he presses the warm washcloth to your sensitive pussy, a shiver dances up your spine, eliciting soft mewls of pleasure. With careful precision, he begins to cleanse away the remnants of your passion, his attentive ministrations a soothing balm to your senses.

He descends eagerly, his lips tracing a path along your inner thigh as the warm washcloth glides over your sensitive flesh. A surge of anticipation courses through you, the proximity of his tantalizing lips to your core igniting a primal desire deep within. With each tender kiss, you can feel the intensity building, another wave of ecstasy threatening to consume you as his dangerous lips draw nearer to your pussy.

You bite down on your lip, struggling to contain the electric tremors racing through your body. There’s an inexplicable tension, an ache building deep within you at the mere sensation of his lips caressing your thighs. With every delicate kiss, it’s as if fireworks explode beneath your skin, igniting a fierce yearning that threatens to consume you whole. Your breath quickens, anticipation mounting as your pussy tightens in desperate anticipation. Yet, he deliberately avoids your most sensitive spot, his lips trailing to the other thigh, bestowing the same tender devotion with each fleeting touch.

Fuck. Could you come with just those tender kisses on your thighs and the damn washcloth teasing your core?

Oh god, you’re craving his touch on your pussy— it’s insane. Yearning for that final release, because it’s right there, tantalizingly close, and you’re already so worked up, knowing it wouldn’t take much to push you over the edge.

“Jimin,” you groan, urgency lacing your voice as you grab his hair, pulling him towards your throbbing pussy, and pressing his face down into your quivering folds.

“Make me come again,” you pant and plead, your voice trembling with an insatiable hunger for release.

He doesn’t need to be told twice; you feel the warmth of his tongue on your folds, savoring every lingering drop of your essence. Then, he ascends towards your clit, sucking on it with fervor, causing you to arch your back and lose yourself in the sensation. Your head falls back into the sheets, your body writhing with ecstasy as you grind your hips into his eager mouth.

Your fingers grip his hair tighter, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, and your voice forms a rhythmic chant of his name, interspersed with moans that echo through the room. Every sensation heightens, your body tingling with anticipation, toes curling involuntarily as you teeter on the edge of euphoria.

His teeth graze your sensitive nub, sending electric waves of pleasure through your body, and as he sucks on it, you feel yourself unraveling, like putty in his hands. A flood of your essence pours out, your body convulsing with ecstasy, fingers clenching in his hair as you cry out his name. Your hips buck uncontrollably as you reach the peak, and he expertly licks up every drop of your essence.

He keeps sucking until you’re dry, until every last drop of your essence is consumed, leaving only the lingering traces of his saliva glistening on your skin.

You tug on his hair, urging him up to your face. Flustered and panting for air, you’re consumed by the desire to kiss him. Pulling him close, you press your lips against his, a passionate exchange that tastes of your essence mingled with his, a heady blend you don’t mind.

As you part for air, you draw him into a warm embrace, molding his body against yours. Soft giggles escape Jimin’s lips, his affectionate words filling the air, “I love waking up like this, you know,” his voice brimming with adoration.

Taehyung stands out like a vibrant splash of color against the rustic backdrop of the ranch, but he’s determined to blend in as seamlessly as possible.

Jimin and Jungkook reluctantly agree to let him stay in one of the smaller guest houses, swayed by Taehyung’s persistent desire to reconnect with his brothers and catch up on lost time. However, a shadow of doubt looms over Jimin’s mind, a residue of skepticism lingering from the Deiji debacle. Despite Taehyung's assurances, Jimin remains cautious, his trust not easily earned after the betrayal he’s endured. Yet, Taehyung’s unwavering determination and the solid proof he provides gradually chip away at Jimin’s reservations, paving the way for a tentative reconciliation.

However, you can’t deny that tensions are running high, especially with Bell Ranch overflowing with people while your own ranch is still under reconstruction—though it’s nearing completion. It’s a bittersweet anticipation, a mix of excitement for the new beginning and reluctance to leave behind the life you’ve built with your boyfriend, which you cherish dearly.

Today is bustling with activity as everyone pitches in to shear the sheep. Amidst the flurry of tasks, you’ve made a mental note to seize the opportunity to interrogate Taehyung about his true intentions for staying. After all, you’ve learned the hard way that vigilance is paramount, and you refuse to let your guard down again.

Jimin sidles up to you, enveloping you in a warm embrace, his arms encircling your frame as he rests his head on your shoulder. “Ready to shear some sheep, babe?” He murmurs, his voice filled with affection and anticipation for the day ahead.

You chuckle softly as his hair tickles your neck, savoring the intimate moment as you lean into his embrace. “I was actually thinking that Taehyung and I could handle sorting the wool,” you suggest, your voice carrying a hint of determination. “It’ll give me a chance to have a chat with him.”

Jimin gently guides your body to face him, his expression tinged with curiosity. “Are you planning to interrogate him?” He inquires, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and concern.

You let out a scoff, rolling your eyes in jest, but a playful smile graces your lips as you meet your boyfriend’s gaze. “Yes, someone has to get to the bottom of things,” you retort, your determination shining through.

He nods in understanding, and you find solace in his agreement, grateful that he doesn’t resist your decision. Not that he typically would, but after everything you’ve weathered together recently, it feels reassuring to approach things with a heightened sense of awareness and scrutiny.

As Jungkook and your sister step into the shearing shed, you greet them with a cheerful wave and a warm smile, grateful for their presence amidst the bustling activity.

“Shall we get to work?” Your sister’s voice rings out, punctuated by the sound of her stretching. Clad in a white tank top that seems to repel the relentless heat, she’s ready for action, as is Jungkook beside her. You and Jimin match the attire, sporting fitted tank tops of your own, ready to tackle the tasks ahead with determination.

“We’re still waiting on the others,” you remark with a smile, your gaze drifting towards the wool sorting station. Just then, the door swings open, a cacophony of voices flooding the space, signaling the arrival of the rest of the crew.

Yoongi, Hoseok, Ha-rin, and Soo-ah saunter in, their laughter echoing joyously throughout the room. While you’re unsure of the source of their amusement, their infectious laughter is enough to brighten your spirits and elicit a genuine smile from you.

As Ara strides in alongside Taehyung, their hushed conversation catches your attention. Despite the serious undertone, there’s a glimmer of warmth in their eyes, and a hint of a smile plays on their lips. Intrigued by their demeanor, you can’t help but wonder about the topic of their discussion.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here,” Jungkook declares, his clipper in hand, “let’s get down to business.”

“Taehyung, join me at the wool sorting station,” you beckon, motioning for him to join you. With a soft smile gracing his lips, he strides over, ready to lend a hand.

“Jimin, Hobi, Yoongi, and I will tackle the shearing,” Jungkook announces, a wide grin lighting up his face. “The rest of you ladies can lend a hand by rounding up the sheep for us.”

“What? I wanna shear sheep too,” your sister protests, her arms crossing defiantly beneath her chest, a playful pout adorning her face.

“And I’m not in the mood for shearing either. How about we switch?” Yoongi suggests with a smirk, eliciting a grin from your sister. You catch Jungkook rolling his eyes at the exchange, a subtle smirk playing on his lips.

With everyone settled into their roles, you dive into the tasks at hand. The rhythmic hum of clippers fills the shed, accompanied by the gentle rustle of wool and the occasional laughter echoing off the walls. As the temperature rises, beads of sweat form on your brow, your tank top clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Sorting through the wool handed to you by either Yoongi, Ara, Soo-ah, or Ha-rin, you work diligently, the camaraderie of the moment overshadowing the discomfort of the heat.

Yoongi strides over, arms laden with wool, and deposits it onto the table with a resounding thud. “Here you go,” he declares, his voice tinged with determination as he joins you and Taehyung in inspecting the fibers for any imperfections that could downgrade its quality.

“Thanks, Yoon,” you offer with a grateful smile, appreciating his contribution before he swiftly turns back to the task at hand, disappearing into the flurry of activity as he assists in gathering more sheep.

Turning his gaze towards you, Taehyung’s curiosity piques. “You’re from the city too, aren’t you?” He inquires, a hint of intrigue lacing his words.

You offer him a warm smile, pausing your inspection of the wool to meet his gaze. “I spent my childhood here. But yes, I’ve mostly lived in the city,” you explain. “What about you? What’s your reason for wanting to reside in the middle of nowhere?”

His grin widens, a boxy and infectious smile lighting up his features as laughter dances in his eyes. In that moment, you find him utterly endearing. “I’m just craving a change of scenery,” he admits, his voice tinged with longing. “Something slower, calmer, and more peaceful.”

“Ah, yeah I get that. Everything’s more calm out here surrounded by nature, all the greens and the mountains,” you remark, your smile reflecting the tranquility of the landscape. Returning your attention to the wool, you scrutinize it meticulously, determined to ensure its perfection. After all, securing the highest classification means fetching the best prices—a goal you’re committed to achieving.

“And I also want to get to know my brothers better,” he adds, his voice carrying a weight of longing and earnestness.

You nod empathetically, grasping his sentiment. “So, did your mom just break the news to you?” You inquire, your curiosity piqued.

His nod is accompanied by a somber shift in his demeanor, a flicker of anger crossing his features as he clenches his teeth. “Yeah. I have a father—or a dad,” he corrects himself, bitterness seeping into his tone. “But now it turns out he’s not my biological one. My mom only found out recently when he was hospitalized and I offered to donate part of my liver. That’s when we discovered the truth—we’re not related.”

Your gasp echoes through the air, your eyes widening with a mixture of shock, horror, and empathy. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you murmur, your voice heavy with concern. “Is your dad okay now?”

He nods slowly, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. “Yeah, he’s alright now,” he confirms. “But it hit us like a ton of bricks. My mom had to revisit her past, all those guys she dated, trying to piece it together. And here we are,” he adds with a shrug, his pain palpable in the weight of his gaze.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” you offer sympathetically, briefly squeezing his arm in reassurance before returning to the task at hand. With determined focus, you gather the wool and feed it into the crushing machine, watching as it transforms into compacted bundles ready for bagging.

Taehyung trails after you, his voice tinged with gratitude. “Thanks. It’s okay. But,” he hesitates, leaning in closer over your shoulder, “How can I win them over? They don’t seem to warm up to me much.”

Your laughter rings out as you pivot, beckoning Taehyung to join you back at the table. “Just be genuine, kind, and humble,” you advise, meeting his gaze earnestly. “Jungkook and Jimin had their share of disagreements when they first discovered they were siblings. But genuine kindness can get you far.”

Your smile widens as Ara approaches with another batch of wool, her shy grin directed at Taehyung drawing a chuckle from you. It’s a rare sight to see Ara in such a bashful state.

“I just really want them to accept me,” Taehyung confesses, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his expression, his features taking on a slight pout.

“Then trust me, and stick with my advice,” you reassure him with a warm smile, conveying your confidence in his ability to win them over. Taehyung exudes genuine kindness, and you sense no ulterior motives in his intentions.

As you work, Jimin approaches from behind, his hands finding your hips and playfully trailing down to grasp your ass, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He leans in close, his warm breath tickling your ear as he murmurs softly, “Let’s take a break, my love.”

With a chuckle, you spin around to face him, your laughter fading as your lips meet his in a tender and affectionate kiss.

As the rest of the guys gather around the sorting table, Yoongi wastes no time heading for the cooler. “Anyone up for some water or maybe a cold beer?” he offers, casting a glance around the group.

“Feel like sharing a beer?” You suggest to Jimin, a playful glint in your eyes. His smile widens, and he nods eagerly, joining you at the cooler to fetch a cold one, while the others help themselves to either water or beer.

“How are you finding it here?” Hoseok inquires of Taehyung, taking a swig of his water, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.

“It’s been cool so far. Just trying to get to know everyone,” Taehyung replies, his gaze sweeping across the group with genuine interest.

“I’d be happy to help with that,” Hoseok offers, his grin widening as his eyes sparkle with enthusiasm.

Hoseok’s playful finger-pointing game begins, and as he gestures to each person, a chorus of laughter fills the room. “Soo-ah’s the cute and funny one,” he declares with a grin, before moving on, “Ara’s the tall and orderly one.” 

His gaze sweeps the room, landing on each member in turn. “Ha-rin’s the sweet one who keeps us all fed,” he continues, and then he points to Yoongi, “Yoongi’s the sleepy but hard-working one—oh, and also, my boyfriend,” he adds with a chuckle. Finally, he turns to you, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “And she’s pretty, but don’t get on her bad side; she’ll give you a piece of her mind.” Laughter erupts from the group, and you playfully roll your eyes as Jimin pulls you closer, his embrace warm and comforting, his lips pressing softly against your temple.

Hoseok continues with his introductions, his playful tone keeping everyone entertained. “And then there’s Jessi,” he says, a note of caution in his voice, “Never get on her bad side either, but deep down, she’s a sweetheart, a loyal friend.” 

His gaze shifts to you and Jimin, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “Next up, we have Jimin,” he says warmly, admiration evident in his tone, “Dedicated, kind, and sometimes too good for his own good.” Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he turns to Jungkook. 

“And of course, there’s Jungkook,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips, “Who tends to let his dick do the thinking for him.” Laughter ripples through the group as Jungkook playfully shoves Hoseok, earning a round of chuckles from everyone.

Laughter erupts once more, Jungkook’s protest drowned out by the jovial atmosphere. “Hey, I’ve changed my ways!” he insists, but your sister chimes in with a teasing grin, “It’s okay, Kook. Your dick is getting married to me soon.” Her playful remark earns a round of chuckles and good-natured teasing from the group.

Jessi saunters over to Jungkook, her steps purposeful, and plants a lingering kiss on his lips, a moment that seems to stretch into eternity. The group erupts into playful cat-calls and whistles, their cheers punctuating the affectionate display between the couple.

Hoseok interjects with a playful jab, his finger pointing towards Jungkook and your sister, who are locked in an embrace that borders on scandalous as they have begun to grind their bodies against each other. “And that’s precisely why we say he thinks with his dick. Too much PDA!” he quips, the lighthearted teasing drawing laughter from the group as they playfully rib the amorous couple.

“It really is a bit much,” you remark with a chuckle, stealing a glance at Jimin whose hand finds yours in a subtle display of affection. “At least we try to keep our PDA low-key around the others,” you add with a playful wink, eliciting a soft smile from Jimin as he squeezes your hand in agreement.

Yoongi huffs, his eyes rolling dramatically as he nurses his beer. “You two should just go get a room already,” he quips, the playful annoyance in his voice drawing laughter from the group as he nods toward your sister and Jungkook.

Yoongi chuckles deeply, his laughter infused with a hint of amusement. “That was pretty cool, babe, but also, very stereotypical casting for all of us,” he remarks, shooting a playful glance around the group. Hoseok joins him at his side, nodding in agreement with a grin.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok chuckles, his tone carrying a hint of mischief that matches the glint in his eyes. Yet, there's a warmth to his expression that makes his lack of apology forgivable. After all, his assessment of all of you wasn't entirely inaccurate.

“Thanks,” Taehyung replies with a genuine smile, a glimmer of gratitude shining in his eyes as he acknowledges Hoseok’s words.

“We should get back to work,” Jimin suggests, his touch on your hip sending a familiar, comforting shiver down your spine, as it always does.

You all return to your tasks, you and Taehyung engaged in sorting the wool while sharing anecdotes about your childhoods and exchanging musings about life in the city.

Ha-rin approaches with a bundle of wool for sorting and sets it on the table before leaning in close to you, her expression carrying a sense of urgency. “I have something important to share with you,” she whispers.

You pivot toward her, your attention fully captured, while Taehyung focuses on the task of sorting the wool.

Ha-rin’s eyes sparkle with an unmistakable glow, maybe happiness or excitement, as her smile widens, and her cheeks flush with color. “Do you remember Seokjin?” she asks, her voice filled with anticipation.

You nod eagerly, a smile stretching across your face, encouraging Ha-rin to continue with her story.

“Well, We’re dating now!” She announces, her voice brimming with enthusiasm as she practically bounces with joy.

“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you!” You exclaim, your voice filled with genuine excitement, as you pull her into your embrace for a tight hug.

“Who’s Seokjin?” Taehyung’s curious voice chimes in from behind you.

“Just my new boyfriend,” Ha-rin says with a proud voice, her eyes shimmering with new love, “You’ll meet him at the wedding.” 

“Cool,” Taehyung says with a smile as he goes back to sorting the wool with you, his movements fluid and purposeful as he assists in the process of crushing and bagging it. 

The rest of the day unfolds much the same, a symphony of shared labor and laughter, until the sun dips low in the sky, casting golden hues across the landscape. With evening approaching, the decision is made to take the festivities outdoors, firing up the barbecue on the terrace.

After weeks of anticipation and tireless efforts, the final touches have been put in place, completing the reconstruction of your beloved ranch. The delivery trucks have come and gone, leaving behind a treasure trove of furniture that now adorns your home. With the major pieces in place, your attention turns to the finer details — the trinkets, accents, and embellishments that will infuse warmth and personality into every corner of your space.

The rain beats relentlessly against the windshield, but Jimin’s presence beside you provides a comforting contrast to the gloomy weather outside. Despite the downpour making visibility scarce, your determination to find the perfect pieces for your home remains unwavering as you navigate through the storm into town, eager to explore the treasures waiting within the second-hand furniture store.

You both step out of Jimin’s truck, the sound of the rain intensifies, its rhythmic patter echoing through the streets. Jimin’s hand finds yours, fingers interlocking as if seeking solace in each other’s touch amidst the storm. Together, you brave the downpour, your clothes already drenched, yet the warmth of his hand in yours provides a shield against the chill of the rain.

He squeezes your hand reassuringly, and Jimin’s gaze meets yours, his eyes reflecting concern and affection. “Do you have a clear idea of what you’re looking for?” He inquires, his voice cutting through the sound of raindrops drumming against the pavement.

You pause for a moment, the weight of your loss heavy in your words, “I don’t really know. I suppose I’ll recognize it when I see it. It’s just... devastating, you know? All those irreplaceable things, gone in an instant.” The ache in your voice echoes the memories lost in the fire—photos of cherished moments, mementos of family and your shared history with Jimin. Yet, despite the devastation, there’s a glimmer of solace in your next words, “But we still have each other, and that’s what matters most.”

Jimin’s voice carries a tender reassurance, “I know, love. It’s not the same, but we can create new memories— together.” His hopeful smile glimmers through the rain as you reach the door of the store, promising a future woven with shared moments and fresh beginnings.

As he pushes open the door, you’re enveloped in the scent of old wood and nostalgia, a comforting embrace from the past. Inside, Jimin guides you through the aisles, where small lamps cast warm glows, paintings whisper tales of distant lands, and bedding invites dreams of serenity. Yet, amidst the array of treasures, nothing seems to call out to you, each item silent in its appeal.

You find yourself yearning for the familiarity of your old belongings, their absence casting a shadow over the task of replacement. Amidst the sea of options, uncertainty looms large, leaving you grappling with indecision as you navigate the aisles.

“Nothing here seems to resonate with me,” you grumble softly, feeling a sense of frustration as Jimin wraps his arm around you, offering silent support in the midst of your indecision.

“You don’t have to force it, love,” he says, his touch gentle as he strokes your arm, understanding the weight of the moment as you continue to wander among the aisles filled with relics of other people’s pasts, none of which seem to fit the future you’re trying to build for your home.

“I know, it’s just... I want my home to feel like mine again,” you admit, your voice carrying the weight of longing and a touch of anxiety. You can feel the restlessness creeping into your veins, a desperate desire to reclaim the sense of belonging that once filled every corner of your space. Even after the rebuilding was complete and you revisited, that familiar warmth seemed elusive, leaving you yearning for a sense of home that now feels like a distant memory.

“I understand. And if it helps, I have some old photos of us as kids. Maybe they’ll bring back some of that warmth,” he offers, his voice tender as he leans in to kiss your cheek. In that moment, flooded with memories and affection, your heart swells with love and a renewed sense of comfort.

“Thank you, my love,” you murmur, leaning into his warm touch, feeling a surge of gratitude for having him by your side, a constant source of comfort and support in your life.

“Shall we head back home, then?” he asks, gently tugging you towards the exit, his eyes filled with a tender reassurance that no matter where you go, as long as you’re together, it’s home.

“Yeah, let’s head back home,” you agree, following his lead out into the rain. The downpour has only intensified, each raindrop drumming a frantic rhythm on the pavement. You quicken your pace, darting towards his truck with eager steps, eager to escape the deluge and find refuge in the warmth of home.

You share a laugh, the sound mingling with the patter of rain around you, as you both sit there drenched, your hair plastered to your skin and raindrops trickling down your clothes like tiny rivers.

Jimin casually runs his hand through his bangs, a gesture so effortlessly captivating that it sends a shiver down your spine. There’s something undeniably enticing about the way his fingers tousle his hair, igniting a fire deep within your core.

With a satisfying rumble, Jimin turns the key in the ignition, awakening his truck from its slumber. The engine roars to life, echoing the thunderous rhythm of your hearts. As he deftly maneuvers the vehicle in reverse, the world outside the windshield blurs into streaks of rain, a symphony of droplets dancing against the glass. Soon, you’re back on the familiar path homeward, each turn of the wheel bringing you closer to the sanctuary of his home.

You gaze out the rain-streaked windows, the world outside a whirl of fleeting hues and misty raindrops. A pang of melancholy settles in your chest, a silent lament for the unfulfilled promise of finding pieces to restore the warmth of your home. Yet, amidst the downpour and the passing scenery, a glimmer of hope flickers within you. You cling to the belief that with time, dedication, and shared love, you can piece together the fragments of familiarity, stitching together a tapestry of comfort reminiscent of days gone by.

“It’s pouring buckets,” you remark, squinting through the rain that blurs the world beyond the windshield into an abstract watercolor.

“Yeah, it’s like driving on an ice rink out here,” Jimin mutters, his grip on the wheel tightening as the car skids slightly, prompting you to glance at him, relieved to find his attention still fixed on the road ahead.

Damn you hate driving in rainy weather— you know it takes so much focus and attention. Your muscles tensing with each unpredictable swerve of the car. Every moment feels like an eternity, your only wish for the storm to relent and let you reach your destination unscathed.

“Shit!” Jimin’s expletive slices through the tension as a deer darts across the road, forcing him to swerve sharply and the truck skids to a halt. Your heart lurches against the seatbelt, grateful for its hold as the truck jerks to a stop. With wide eyes, you glance at Jimin, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel, a symphony of muttered curses escaping his lips.

He presses down on the accelerator, but the wheels only spin uselessly, kicking up mud and gravel. 

Damn it, you’re stuck, aren’t you?

You turn to Jimin, your eyes widening in alarm. “Are we stuck?”

Jimin huffs, frustration evident as he runs a hand through his hair again. “I’m afraid we are.”

“At least the deer made it out okay,” he grunts in frustration.

“Yeah, yeah, great for the deer, but now we’re stranded,” you grumble, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, frustration settling in as rain pelts the chassis of the truck.

You release a frustrated huff as the reality of the situation sinks in. “What do we do now, Jimin?” You turn to him, concern etched in your eyes.

“We could try to push the truck back onto the road,” he suggests, his breath heavy with resignation.

You gape at him, disbelief etched across your face. “Why can’t we just call for help?”

He lets out a frustrated chuckle, the sound laced with tension. “It’ll take forever for help to arrive out here. We might as well give it a shot, see if we can push it out of the mud. If we can’t, then we’ll call for backup.”

“Fine,” you grunt, regretting not grabbing your raincoat before this impromptu adventure. Anger simmers beneath your skin, though you know it’s futile. Still, frustration pulses through your veins as you swing open the door and step out into the relentless rain, each drop feeling like a reminder of the day’s misfortune.

Jimin joins you, and together you march to the rear of the truck, determination etched on your faces as you brace yourselves against the heavy load. With gritted teeth and strained muscles, you throw your weight against it, but it remains stubbornly unmoved, resisting your efforts with an infuriating steadfastness.

“Jimin, have you even put it in neutral?” you demand, your patience wearing thin, the frustration evident in your tone as irritation simmers beneath the surface.

“Shit, I forgot that,” Jimin apologizes, rushing back to the driver’s seat to rectify his oversight and shift the gear into neutral. You can’t help but roll your eyes and emit a frustrated grunt. Forgetting such a crucial step isn’t exactly conducive to getting the truck unstuck, and you're feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on you.

“Seriously, love,” you grumble, the frustration mounting within you like a tempest.

“Are you mad now?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity and concern.

“Yeah! I’m so frustrated that we’re in this situation at all!” you huff in anger, your voice resonating with frustration. You plant your hands firmly on the load at the back of the truck. “Help me push it.”

Jimin joins you, his expression apologetic as he understands your frustration. Despite his remorse, you’re determined to push the damn truck back on the road and get back home. The rain continues to soak you both, and while the weather isn’t freezing, you're aware that staying outside in wet clothes isn’t ideal.

You exert every ounce of strength to push the damn truck, but it remains stubbornly stuck in the mud. Your feet struggle for traction in the slippery terrain, and with a frustrated grunt, you lose your balance, landing with a heavy thud in the mire. Jimin, ever beside you, extends his hand, offering support in the midst of your muddy ordeal.

As you grip his hand, now coated in mud like the rest of you from your unplanned plunge, Jimin’s concern is palpable in his voice. “Are you alright?” He inquires, his eyes scanning you for any signs of injury amidst the muck.

Frustration boiling over, you unleash a torrent of emotion, your voice echoing in the rain-soaked air. “I hate this fucking truck!” You scream, the words carrying your exasperation and anger into the stormy air.

With a surge of frustration, you unleash a primal act of defiance, kicking the stubborn truck with all your might. Storming around to the passenger side, you yank open the door, then dive into the glove compartment, your hands fumbling desperately for anything to wipe the mud from your face.

In the heat of your fury, items tumble from the glove box, but you pay them no mind. Enveloped by anger, you allow the contents to spill onto the muddied ground, a chaotic symphony of frustration. Finally, your hand closes around a fabric, and as you draw it out, relief washes over you at the sight of the handkerchief clutched in your grasp.

“I’m so sorry, but there’s no reason to be mad,” Jimin’s voice breaks through your fury, gentle and soothing, yet you can’t shake off the bubbling anger as you tighten your grip around the cloth, your frustration simmering beneath the surface like a tempest ready to erupt.

“This is your fucking fault! If you hadn’t swerved to avoid that deer, we wouldn’t be stuck here!” You erupt, the words laced with bitterness and frustration, punctuated by the slamming of the door. Bending down, you scoop up a handful of mud, your movements fueled by anger, and hurl it at your boyfriend, the wet earth splattering against his chest with a muddy thud.

“Hey!” He shouts, his voice tinged with both surprise and frustration as the mud hits him squarely in the chest. “If I hadn’t swerved, we would’ve collided with the poor animal,” he huffs, his words defensive yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

“I don’t give a Shit! Why do you have to be so damn sweet?” You curse, frustration dripping from every word as you slump against the passenger’s door, letting your body slide down to the dirt. At this point, you couldn’t care less. You’re drenched, the rain relentless, and your clothes are soaked and caked with mud. You scoop up more dirt, hurling it at him, but a small smile tugs at your lips nonetheless.

“Why are you throwing mud at me?” He chuckles as you continue to hurl clumps of mud at him.

“You deserve to be as filthy as me. After all, this mess is all your doing,” you retort with a laugh, embracing the absurdity of the moment. You feel utterly ridiculous, but in the midst of your misery, why not find a bit of humor?

Your fingers coil around yet another clump of mud, but this one has an unfamiliar weight to it. Just as you’re about to launch it at him, a flicker of caution halts your arm mid-swing. What if it’s not just mud? What if it’s a stone? You freeze, the gravity of potentially hurting him suddenly sinking in. With a conscious effort, you halt your motion and peer closely at the object cradled in your palm.

As you inspect the object further, it dawns on you that it’s not a stone at all—it’s more box-shaped, its contours distinctly different from the surrounding mud.

You pull the object closer, curiosity piqued. With both hands now engaged in the inspection, the handkerchief falls forgotten into the mud below.

As you remove the mud from the box, your heart races with anticipation, and a surge of emotions washes over you—love, excitement, and a hint of disbelief. With trembling hands, you begin to realize the significance of what you might have stumbled upon.

Jimin notices the box in your hands, and as your eyes widen with realization, he senses a shift in the atmosphere. His own expression morphs into one of nervousness and shock as he hurries over to you, his voice pleading, “Don’t.”

“Jimin,” your voice quivers, uncertainty laced with a trembling anticipation as you gaze at the box in your hands. A strange mix of fear and longing swirls within you, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as your body trembles with emotion. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Please don’t open it now,” he implores, his voice tinged with urgency as he kneels before you, eyes pleading.

You disregard his pleas, your focus solely on the mysterious box in your hands. His touch, though comforting, fades into the background as tears blur your vision. 

“Is this... for me?” The question trembles in your voice, laden with hope and uncertainty.

He takes a deep breath, a hint of frustration flickering across his features before he confirms with a soft, resigned tone, “It is.”

You lock eyes with him, your gaze searching for answers. “Why can’t I open it then?” You ask, your voice a blend of curiosity and longing, yearning to unravel the mystery within the box.

He bites his bottom lip, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he weighs his words carefully. “It’s not the right time,” he murmurs softly, his tone laden with hidden meaning, leaving you wondering what secrets the box holds and why now isn't the moment to unveil it.

“Right time?” You echo, your voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and longing, your fingers tightening around the box as if it holds the answers to all your questions. You draw it closer to your chest, the weight of it pressing against your heart, desperate for the secrets it guards to be revealed.

You feel as if the air has been sucked out of your lungs, a lump forming in your throat, making it hard to speak. “I don’t care about the right time,” you manage to say, your voice strained with emotion, your heart pounding against the confines of your chest.

Your voice quivers with raw emotion, the weight of your longing evident in every syllable. “I want to open it,” you insist, your words carrying the depth of your desire, echoing the urgency in your heart.

You catch a glimpse of uncertainty flickering in his eyes, a silent plea for patience. Yet, an undeniable yearning propels you forward. Damn it, you need to uncover the mysteries held within that box!

“Or better yet, you open it for me,” you press the box into his trembling hands, your voice a whisper of longing, “Please.”

He accepts the box from your hands into his own, his fingers tracing its edges with a tenderness that mirrors the emotion swirling in the air around you. For a timeless moment, the rain’s relentless patter provides the only soundtrack to your anticipation.

“Alright,” he whispers, his voice a gentle breeze in the midst of the rainstorm, laden with layers of emotion—love, adoration, and a hint of vulnerability that draws you closer.

With deliberate care, he unfurls the box’s lid, revealing its hidden treasure, as you stand there in the rain, every droplet echoing the rapid beat of your heart. Your breath hangs suspended as the ring emerges, a golden band adorned with a mesmerizing purple gemstone. Your hands quiver with anticipation, your gaze flitting between the ring and your beloved, each moment pregnant with emotion.

Jimin kneels before you, his eyes alight with a blend of love and hope that sparkles even in the rain-soaked dimness. His hair, drenched and plastered to his head, gives him an endearingly disheveled appearance, yet there’s an undeniable allure in his vulnerability. With the box cradled in his hand, he exudes a nervous energy, his lip caught between his teeth.

In that suspended moment, every beat of your heart seems magnified, echoing in the space between you and Jimin. Emotions swirl within you, a tumultuous mix of love and anticipation, rendering you speechless. Your affection for him surges, a tidal wave of adoration that threatens to overwhelm you. All you want is to feel the weight of that ring on your finger, a tangible symbol of your boundless love. 

Yet, as the seconds tick by, the question remains unspoken, hanging in the air like an unclaimed promise.

With a deep breath, he begins, “My love,” and the mere sound of those words sends a shiver down your spine, a surge of emotions welling up within you, threatening to overflow. His voice, soft yet laden with sincerity, washes over you like a gentle breeze on a summer day.

“I’ve loved you for so long, with every beat of my heart,” he confesses, his voice wavering with emotion amidst the relentless downpour. “I want nothing more than to spend eternity by your side, to cherish every moment with you. Will you marry me?” With those words, he offers you not just a ring, but his soul, laid bare before you, his eyes reflecting the depth of his devotion despite the storm raging around you.

Tears mingle with the raindrops, cascading down your cheeks, as you gaze at him, your heart a tumultuous symphony of emotions. In that moment, the world around you fades into a blur, leaving only him, his earnest expression etched into your soul.

“Fuck yes, you beautiful fool,” you manage to gasp amidst tears of joy, your muddy fingers staining his cheeks as you pull him into a fervent kiss. In that embrace, it’s as if the universe itself has aligned, every piece falling into perfect place. Your kiss is a declaration, a promise of endless love and boundless passion, a testament to the unbreakable bond between your souls. As you meld together in that moment, you can’t help but release a guttural sound of longing and satisfaction into his mouth.

With a tender chuckle, he breaks the kiss for a moment, and as you catch your breath, your left hand trembles with the weight of your affection as you extend it towards him.

Gently, he slides the ring over your muddy ring finger, his eyes never leaving yours, and when it finally settles in its place, you glance down at the ring. There, snug on your finger, it feels like it belongs, a tangible emblem of your love. You’re overwhelmed with an indescribable sense of completeness, your heart brimming with an abundance of love.

With a soft smile, you meet his gaze, captivated by the dimples adorning his cheeks. Eager for another kiss, you lean in, your enthusiasm propelling you forward, but in your haste, you inadvertently push him down onto the muddy ground. His back meets the wet earth, but undeterred, you lower yourself on top of him, your lips meeting in a fervent embrace, each kiss imbued with the passion and love that fills your heart.

You couldn’t care less about the rain, the mud coating your clothes, or the dampness seeping into your skin. In this moment, with his proposal still echoing in your mind, you’re consumed by an overwhelming sense of love and euphoria. It’s as if the world around you fades into insignificance compared to the depth of emotion swelling in your heart.

“Jimin, I…” You pause, your voice cracking with emotion as you lock eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze conveying volumes of unsaid words. “Damn it,” you continue, your voice trembling with raw sincerity, “I love you more than words can express. We’ve weathered storms together, faced hardships, but through it all, my love for you has only grown stronger. I want to spend eternity with you, by your side, through every high and every low.”

Tears stream down your cheeks, a mixture of overwhelming joy and profound emotion washing over you. But instead of words, you convey the depth of your feelings through a tender kiss, your lips meeting his with a fervor born of love. As you press against him, you feel the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling, a comforting reassurance amidst the storm of emotions. With each tear that falls, you’re reminded of the depth of your love, your journey, and the unwavering bond that binds your souls together.

With a gentle touch, he reaches for your face, his fingertips tracing the path of your tears, a futile attempt to wipe them away amidst the mud and rain. Despite the grime that now marks his hands, his touch carries a tenderness that speaks volumes, a silent promise to be there for you, even in the messiest of moments.

He lifts you gently, his hands cradling your face as he meets your gaze with sincerity. “I’m so sorry for everything, love,” he murmurs, his voice carrying the weight of his remorse and the depth of his affection.

You gently shake your head, your eyes meeting his with a soft intensity. “I know you’re sorry, and I am too. But we’ve said sorry enough,” you whisper, your voice carrying a note of resolve. “I just want to look ahead, please.”

With a solemn nod, mud now smudging his hair further, he reciprocates your kiss, his lips molding against yours as if they were made for each other. His lips, soft and warm against yours, feel like a sanctuary, each beat of your heart syncing with the rhythm of his own.

You break the kiss, your fingers intertwining with his as you guide him to sit beside you, eager to admire the ring together. The sight of it takes your breath away; it’s not just beautiful—it’s downright stunning. The way it catches the limited light, shimmering with a brilliance that reflects your love, leaves you speechless.

“How long have you had it?” Your question lingers in the air, accompanied by the gentle patter of raindrops. You can’t help but smile, feeling like the luckiest person in the world, despite the downpour soaking you both.

His laughter dances in harmony with the rhythm of the rain, a melody of joy amidst the storm. As his hand navigates through his hair, smearing more mud across his face, you can’t help but join in, your laughter echoing through the downpour.

“You won’t believe me,” he chuckles nervously, a hint of mystery teasing his words. You playfully shove him on the shoulder, your laughter mingling with the pitter-patter of raindrops. Leaning into his sturdy frame, you find comfort against the backdrop of the truck, a sanctuary in the midst of the storm.

“Try me,” you tease, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as you place your muddy hand over his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your touch.

“I’ve had it for months,” he confesses, and you let out a gasp, pulling away to gaze at him with wide eyes, surprise painting your features.

“Shit, really?” You exclaim, disbelief evident in your voice. It’s hard to fathom that he’s been carrying the ring around for so long.

“I got it before Deiji came back and announced her pregnancy,” he confesses, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips, though a hint of sadness lingers in his eyes.

“I’m still sorry about that, but I’m also relieved that we don’t have to deal with that anymore, to be honest,” you confide, a wistful smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah. I know,” he murmurs, his voice carrying a weight of longing and resignation. “I was really looking forward to being a father, I guess.”

You gently cup his cheeks, locking eyes with him. “I know, love. But you can still be a father-– a father to our kids. I want everything with you, even kids. Maybe not right at this moment, but in the future, absolutely.”

You witness the spark in his eyes ignite, tears welling up and cascading down his cheeks, his whole being pulsating with emotion. Without hesitation, you draw him close, enveloping him in a tight embrace, sharing in his overwhelming moment of vulnerability and love.

“Thank you. I love you so much,” his words, though muffled against your shoulder, resonate deeply within you, carrying the weight of his love and gratitude. You hold him tighter, cherishing the warmth of his embrace and the sincerity in his voice as he expresses his boundless affection.

You gently stroke his back, feeling the rise and fall of his trembling breaths against your chest. With tender reassurance, you speak softly, your words carrying the weight of unwavering devotion. “You beautiful fool,” you murmur, “I love you so much too.”

As the rain continues to cascade around you, mingling with the mud beneath your feet, Jimin’s resourcefulness shines through. With a determined glint in his eye, he offers a solution amidst the downpour. “How about this,” he suggests, his voice cutting through the rain’s steady rhythm. “You take the wheel, and I’ll push the truck forward from the back.” His hands grip a sturdy piece of wood, strategically positioned beneath the wheels for added traction.

Feeling a surge of determination, you nod decisively and make your way to the driver’s seat. With a sense of purpose, you settle in, the familiar hum of the engine beneath you. Guiding the gear shift into place, you take a deep breath, your focus unwavering. As the engine roars to life, you ease your foot onto the accelerator, the truck finally inching forward with each determined push from Jimin’s hands against its frame.

With each concerted effort, the truck gradually inches forward, overcoming the resistance of the mud with each determined push. A surge of triumph floods through you as the tires find traction, guiding the vehicle back onto the solid ground of the road. As Jimin approaches, his eyes bright with pride and relief, he leans in and seals the moment with a tender kiss, a silent celebration of your shared victory.

His grin widens as he gazes at your hand, adorned with the beautiful ring, and then back up at you. “Do you want to take the wheel?” he asks, a playful glint in his eyes.

Your laughter fills the cabin, a delightful symphony against the drumming rain outside. “No way, not in this weather,” you chuckle, relinquishing the driver’s seat and venturing back out into the rain. Jimin flashes you a grateful smile as he settles back into the driver’s seat, ready to navigate the wet roads once more.

Through the rain-streaked windshield, he guides you home with a steady hand, the soft hum of the engine blending seamlessly with the pitter-patter of raindrops. In this tranquil cocoon of affection, words seem unnecessary as your love speaks volumes, enveloping you both in a comforting embrace.

With practiced precision, he guides the truck onto the familiar terrain of the yard, the rain still a faithful companion to your journey.

You both leap out of the truck, a contagious giddiness infusing your steps, your hand instinctively seeking Jimin’s as you scan the expanse of the ranch for your friends, the anticipation palpable in the air that mirrors the fluttering excitement in your hearts. You can’t wait to tell your friends and sister what has happened.

As you scour the house and comb through every corner of the property, your curiosity leads you to the stables. With a creak of the door, you’re greeted by a chorus of voices resonating from within, hinting at the presence of your friends.

You tread down the rustic aisle of the stables, the earthy scent of hay and sawdust swirling around you. There, amidst the soft glow of fluorescent light, you spot your sister, Jungkook, Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok engrossed in the meticulous task of cleaning out the stalls, their laughter echoing off the wooden beams.

You beam, your eyes catching Yoongi’s in the warm glow of the stable windows. His puzzled expression prompts a chuckle as he gestures towards your muddy attire, “What happened? You’re all covered in dirt.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling like the protagonist in some quirky romantic comedy. Grinning ear to ear, you confess, “We drove off the road.”

You observe as the guys down their tools, their attention instantly drawn to you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and worry.

Concern etches across your sister’s face as she strides over to you along the aisle, her voice soft with worry as she asks, “Are you okay?”

Grinning, you reassure them, “We’re all good. Managed to push the truck back on the road,” your laughter intertwining with the warmth of Jimin’s hand in yours.

Yoongi’s curiosity draws him closer, his eyes narrowing in on your beaming expression. “What’s got you grinning like a fool?” He prods, his voice a mix of amusement and genuine interest.

Yoongi’s playful smirk widens, his gaze shifting between you and Jimin. “Did you guys do it in the truck or something?” He teases, his tone laced with humor and a hint of mischief.

You burst into laughter, shaking your head at Yoongi's jest. “Nah, not this time,” you reply between chuckles, exchanging a knowing glance with Jimin.

“Gross,” Taehyung grunts in mock disgust from one of the stalls, his voice echoing playfully through the wooden space.

With a gleeful grin, you extend your left hand, showcasing the glimmering ring adorning your finger like a prized possession, the sunlight from the windows catching the gemstone and casting colorful reflections around the stable.

Yoongi’s eyes widen in surprise as they dart between the ring on your finger and Jimin’s face, his voice tinged with disbelief, “You proposed?”

Your sister practically shoves Yoongi away in her eagerness to get a closer look, grabbing your hand despite the mud, her eyes widening as she takes in the glinting ring. Then, her gaze shifts to Jimin, a mixture of joy and teasing in her voice, “You finally did it, huh? I’m so happy for both of you! Congratulations!”

You give Jimin and your sister a puzzled stare, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “What do you mean? Did you know he was going to propose?”

Your sister chuckles, her eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “Yeah, me and Jungkook knew. I saw Jimin in the jewelry store, and he showed the ring to me. It’s perfect, right?” As she speaks, Jungkook appears behind her, wrapping his arms around her in a loving embrace, a grin playing on his lips.

“It absolutely is,” you reply, wiggling your fingers and soaking in the sheer joy of the moment.

With no regard for the mud covering both of you, Yoongi envelops you in a tight embrace, drawing Jimin into the hug as well. “I’m so happy for both of you,” he declares, his voice thick with emotion. As he releases you and moves toward his boyfriend for a hug, you feel the warmth of his happiness lingering in the air.

As you prepare to return home, a strange sensation grips you, a reluctance to part ways with Jimin. Despite the completion of your ranch project and the fond memories made there with him, the idea of leaving him behind feels unsettling. You feel like you’re leaving a piece of your heart behind with him. Yet, it’s a decision you’ve both agreed upon, a part of the plan to return home.

You and your sister pull up to the two-story ranch, freshly painted and gleaming in the sunlight, and a wave of disbelief washes over you. The transformation is remarkable, almost surreal. Where once stood a weathered, tired structure now stands a vibrant testament to renewal and hard work. It’s as if you’ve arrived at the wrong address, the familiarity of the old ranch replaced by the unfamiliarity of its rejuvenated form.

Your sister’s voice breaks the momentary trance, her words a gentle reminder of the significance of the place. “Home sweet home,” she declares, stepping out of the truck, her tone imbued with warmth and nostalgia.

“Yeah,” you respond, the word carrying a weight you hadn’t intended. As you shut the truck doors, a melancholic sigh escapes you, a silent acknowledgment of the bittersweet feeling settling in your chest.

Stepping into the once-familiar yet now transformed house feels like entering a parallel universe. Everything appears unchanged on the surface, but the atmosphere is different, charged with an unfamiliar energy that leaves you feeling like an outsider in your own home. Memories, both joyful and sorrowful, linger in the air like whispers of a past life now distant and unreachable.

You trudge your way to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed that feels foreign beneath you, devoid of the familiar impressions of nights past. Your gaze sweeps across the room, noticing the barren walls and the stark emptiness of the new dresser. It’s as if the fire that swept through, consumed every trace of the life you once knew, leaving only ashes in its wake. Anguish tightens your chest as you stare up at the ceiling, the truth settling in like a heavy weight on your shoulders—this place, this shell of a home, it’s not where your heart resides.

Nothing is home if Jimin isn’t there.

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 💜 Remember the Q&A that is coming in the Epilogue— if you want to send in some questions for the characters, you can do it now (and later too) → Ask the characters (or me), anything ❣️

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[musicallisto]

clara my dearest role model, clara my devoted friend, clara my delicate muse... i am sending this right as i'm finishing the final chapter of romancing mister bridgerton on audiobook, so forgive me for being so inexcusably brief </3. might i request one of these 💿 lovely surprises with literally any f1 driver, i want to see a violent characterization of these loser men from my most respected author friend yuki tsunoda? i am, in all things, horribly on brand.

· · · · ♡ EXILE (yt22)

… starring yuki tsunoda x f!reader ... based on exile by taylor swift ft. bon iver ... 1.2k words ... in which yuki tsunoda, fresh from his formula 1 debut, returns to a tokyo both familiar and foreign, where ghosts and feelings still linger. ... i really hope you enjoy this my darling olive!! when i saw i had pulled exile out of all songs i freaked out a little,, this song has gotten me through a lot so i had to pay homage </3 happy august 1st to those who celebrate!!!

"I can see you staring, honey

Like he's just your understudy

Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓, 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐄 comes to Tokyo, always brings her heat with her.

More than the temperatures, it's a joyous sort of effervescence that coils around the street corners, trickling down like the first monsoon rains. Day after day, Tokyo attires itself in the most festive of summer colors, until all of a sudden all the festivals, open-air markets, and traditional dances flood the city like budding poppies. Here, rows upon rows of sunflowers sway to the soft breeze in Kiyose; over there paper lanterns float off into the night sky over the Sumida river, each cradling an unspoken wish.

To Yuki, August is always the best time to return to the capital. Or rather, the second best; nothing beats the cherry blossoms of late April, but late April is home for Imola now, and it's been years, really, since he last saw the sakura of home.

He doesn't mind the heat—he never did, and his Japanese friends joke that he was already a fiery character before his time in the West made him brazen. He's always glad to be back home over the summer break. Even more so since he debuted in Formula 1 six months prior.

It's Yuki's first time returning to Tokyo since he started racing with AlphaTauri, and one of his increasingly rare visits to his homeland. He's been eagerly anticipating the break; to recharge, certainly, and most importantly to meet with his family. In the cloudy skies the plane traverses, Yuki can see his elders' crinkled eyes, beaming with pride as he, the picture of practiced humility, answers every question about the sport, about Italy, about the world he made it big in. It matters not they won't understand much about racecars, or the FIA—he's coming home aureoled in a gladiator's glory. Honor to his family, to the Tsunoda bloodline! He smiles to himself as the plane touches down on the tarmac.

Yet as Yuki steps into the urban jungle he's so ardently missed… he finds the city changed. Not transformed, entirely, but… almost misplaced. As if street names and trees and playground slides have been shuffled over his time abroad, all of them still there but in a disposition unknown to him. Sure, he is a child of the suburbs, and Tokyo a fidgety creature—maybe Italy's stone roads have eroded his memory. But wasn't there an old laundromat on this corner, on which the papier mâché dragons would cast fantastical shadows as they snaked down the street? And the brand new KFC—this was a pet store, where he'd press his nose against the glass to watch the colorful fish and guinea pigs until his mother forcibly dragged him away.

This is still home, he tells himself to soothe the unease away. Things change, but they don't leave you behind, he repeats as he checks his phone to make sure he's going in the right direction.

They're all little details. Like when he stops at a food vendor's cart and has to repeat his order twice, taken aback by the sound of his very own mother tongue coming out of his mouth. Six months without speaking Japanese to another person, other than the odd calls to his parents, have left his voice chalky. The woman looks at him for a brief second, quizzical, but hands him the sugary buns; he thanks her, seamlessly this time, and it's all back to normal. Yuki Tsunoda is home.

They're all little details until they aren't. Until he turns on his heels, biting into the snack, and catches sight of her.

It's unmistakable, and it's her. Even with the facemask, it's the same silky hair and smooth skin, same little bounce to her step, and even the same linen pants she used to wear in high school. Tokyo's immutable certainty on the other side of the street. Y/N.

Yuki stops dead in his tracks as their eyes meet, thirty feet away, and a flash of recognition has her almost recoiling, but she holds firm onto the hand she's holding and stays immobile. A man's hand; he's a little taller than Yuki, black hair in a neat middle part and dark eyes distracted by an advertisement on a screen. Wearing nice clothes, sunglasses hanging from his neckline, shoulders relaxed but holding Y/N with the casual affection of a man who cherishes a great treasure.

Yuki's throat dries up. He thinks about reaching out—to say what? Giving her a polite wave—but what for? High school confessions play in his head, back when he loved her as zealously as he raced, and when her laugh ringing in his ears, more than the trophies and the European circuits and the million-dollar contracts, was his only belief.

"So when do you plan on coming back?" she'd asked him the last time they'd ever seen each other, sitting on a park bench that cherry petals flecked.

"Eight months to a year, maybe," he'd answered after a little while, knowing there was no return once he said it.

"Eight months?" she'd exclaimed, disbelieving. "Yuki, I can't… I don't think I can go eight months without seeing you."

"I don't think I can ask you to do that, either," he'd said, sounding sadder than he'd wanted, though he had rehearsed the moment over and over in his head.

She'd stared at him wordlessly, her incomprehension feigned. She knew what he was about to say, but pretended not to. He'd wished she'd piece it together on her own, admit it to herself so he wouldn't have to say it out loud, but…

"I think it's best for both of us if we just… go our separate ways. I don't want to hold you back, and you deserve to be happy here. With someone who's here with you."

You are among the twenty best in the world, Yuki, had told him Franz Tost after some F2 race he couldn't remember, when news had broken out into the world the Japanese rookie would be AlphaTauri's shiniest, newest addition. It's rough getting here and it's only gonna get rougher staying here. The engineers may cut out what's slowing you down… but you need to do it too.

"All right," was all Y/N had said, her eyes glassy. Steel. Dignified, like he'd always known her. Like he sees her right now, staring at him from the other side of the street.

Her new boyfriend taps her shoulder to show her something in a shop, and she turns her head, breaking eye contact with Yuki. Up the road, the lights turn green, and a flock of cars of all shapes and colors buzz past, invading the crosswalk and hiding the couple from view.

Twenty seconds later, when the street is quiet once more, and Y/N eagerly turns her gaze from her boyfriend to the opposite sidewalk, she finds moms pushing strollers and well-behaved Inus on leashes, but no trace of Tsunoda. A flame, gone in a flash. Her heart drops.

She squeezes her boyfriend's hand, and they keep walking.

I'm not your homeland anymore, so what am I defending now?

You were my crown, now I'm in exile, seeing you out

I think I've seen this film before

So I'm leaving out the side door"

… tagging @retvenkos @heliads @faerieroyal (the f1 girlies🥺)

… masterlist here

[stargazerbibi]

🐣🫐🌼 3RD YEAR, 2ND SEMESTER: GOALS & PLANS 🌼🫐🐣

hello there!! fancy seeing you here again hahaha,,

if you know me, you probably guessed it, the new semester is starting soon and so far this thing has worked 2/2 times so.. i'm not about to jinx it by not doing the challenge. whatever works, works, yk?

this time around, i'm only taking 4 classes :( it makes me feel so lazy and wasteful, but i'll need to stay another full year anyways so it's not like it affects anything really (and i'll have way more time to study a subject i, for once, kinda enjoy). either way, i'm sure the classes are going to be absolutely brutal and i won't even notice after the 1st week haha

the term is going to have a maximum of 143 days (ending on the 5th of july), including both exam seasons (which, hopefully, i won't need!!!!), but i think i'm going to start 2 days earlier. yes.. because 145 is a round number.. but also cause i have to clean up my room and prepare everything :P

🌬️💿🪐 GOALS 🪐💿🌬️

-> pass all my classes: 4/4 ☑️

-> keep my duolingo streak alive ☑️

-> read 12 books: 7/12 (last read: The Enigma of Room 622, by Joël Dicker)

-> move furniture + organize shelves ☑️

-> organize email ✖️

-> transfer photos to computer ☑️

-> visit dad ☑️☑️☑️

-> get my driver's license ☑️

🗞️🌕🗡️ FUN PLANS 🗡️🌕🗞️

-> re-read jjk: 5/20

-> watch 10 movies: 11/10 (last watched: Dune: Part Two) ☑️

-> watch 10 series: 6/10 (last watched: Kaiju No.8)

-> build legos: 5/5 ☑️😭

-> buy cute mugs to put my pens in ☑️

-> finish 1 game ☑️ (100% Turnip Boy Commits Tax Evasion)

-> complete my acnh island ✖️

🌆🔮👒 COUNTERS 👒🔮🌆

-> late nights: 10 too many to count (goal: 0) ✖️

-> hangout with friends: 10 (goal: 10) ☑️

-> things i created: 10 (goal: 10) ☑️

-> primogems: 6,372/28,000 ✖️

i'll add more things as they come up, but for now this is the plan ;)