#but not just like... a successful whistle note lol....

[80s-ghost-boy]

Honestly if I couldn't listen to musicians that successfully sing in higher octaves (i.e., many female singers) or to songs with unique beats because it triggered the fuck out of my sensory overload I would just lay down and die. That's not to say people who fall into this category should do so, this is just how I feel for me specifically, cuz I cannot fathom a world where like, Whitney Houston music sends me into a meltdown. I just genuinely feel so fucking bad for people like that because that just sounds so miserable lol. Imagine being unable to listen to like a big chunk of musicians because your brain just fucking hates you, Jesus dude. My deepest condolences to anyone that experiences that cuz you probably experience brutal sensory overload with other stuff, too

[kingofbodyrolls]

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

🐴Chapter summary: You win some and you lose some— isn’t that how the saying goes? But when you keep messing up, how long does it take for your sister to get enough of your fuck ups? 🐴Chapter title: Sometimes 🐴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: some sexual tension and angst! A storm is brewing ⛈️ + a horse in pain (colic), also Jessi is a real pain in the ass in this chapter, sorry. 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 11.8k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld,

*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 💿 “Sometimes” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note(1): I’m not a vet okay– so some of the descriptions regarding veterinary treatment of horses might not be 100% spot on, lol. 

Also, I know that you all want MC and Jimin to get together, and it is coming soon— I promise! 🫶 The next chapter is actually one of my favorites 🥰

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

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“Sometimes at the edge of sight Something moves which isn't there You turn to look but it's gone, it's gone Was it ever really there Yet it touches you Softly touches you And then it begins again” -  ‘Sometimes’ by Rebecca Lavelle

Perplexed, you question why Jessi deemed it a brilliant idea for you to single-handedly corral the sheep into the pen. You move at a measured trot, employing subtle cues with your legs on Marshmallow to orchestrate the intricate dance required to guide the sheep to their destination.

Eager to excel and make a lasting impression, you're determined to master the task your sister entrusted you with. The desire to earn Jessi's approval fuels your determination, pushing you to strive for excellence in her eyes.

With a subtle click of your tongue, you skillfully guide the reins, prompting Marshmallow to gracefully trot to the right and deftly corral a stray sheep back into the fold.

A sense of surprise washes over you as you realize just how adept you are at this task. It feels surprisingly easy, and a newfound energy surges within, allowing you to even whistle a tune as the ranch comes into view on the horizon. The girls await your successful return at the shed, a testament to your growing confidence. Almost there.

Grinning ear to ear, you reach the gate of the pen and energetically wave to Ara, Soo-ah, and Ha-rin, your sister nowhere to be seen.

Approaching the gate, you deftly lean over Marshmallow, swing it open, and expertly turn the horse around. With determination, you guide the sheep into the pen, where the girls await, poised for the upcoming shearing.

“You did such a nice job!” Soo-ah's voice echoes with admiration, her wide smile and doe-like eyes expressing genuine appreciation. You nod in gratitude, turning Marshmallow toward the barn to return him to the field, a sense of accomplishment swelling within you.

Guiding Marshmallow into the barn with deliberate ease, you orchestrate a gradual slowdown. With a practiced motion, you swing your leg over the saddle and dismount, grounding yourself with a gentle touch on the barn floor. “Such a good boy,” you murmur affectionately, your hand caressing Marshmallow's neck, eliciting a delighted response from the appreciative horse.

Effortlessly unhooking the girdle from the saddle, you carefully lift it off Marshmallow's back and return it to its designated spot on the saddle hook in the corner. He stands patiently, awaiting your return to relieve him of his bridle. A soft click of your tongue signals him to follow as you lead him gracefully to a paddock.

As you swing the gate open for Marshmallow, you marvel at the grace with which he bounds into the paddock, joining the rhythmic dance of the other horses. A peculiar warmth envelops your heart, a sense of fulfillment washing over you. The silent camaraderie among these majestic creatures stirs a deep nostalgia, making you keenly aware of how much you've yearned for the company of horses.

With a heart brimming with affection, you stride purposefully back to the shed where the girls await assistance in shearing the sheep. The prospect of shearing, an uncharted territory for you, looms uncertainly. Doubts flicker like fleeting shadows—will you navigate the shearing process with finesse, or fumble in your attempt? The anticipation lingers, but optimism threads through your thoughts as you hope for a seamless endeavor.

The girls deftly corral sheep, ushering them one by one into the bustling shearing shed. Jessi, now a commanding presence, orchestrates the operation with vocal precision, her directives ringing out amid the flurry of wooly activity.

“Go grab a sheep!” Jessi commands, her voice cutting through the wooly chaos. You heed her directive, but the task is easier said than done. The sheep evade your advances, darting away like fleeting shadows, leaving you in a comical dance of pursuit.

Balancing on the delicate line between assertiveness and consideration, you tread lightly with the sheep. Jessi's voice echoes in your mind, emphasizing the significance of stress-free herding. You avoid being too imposing, a mindful dance to ensure the flock remains undisturbed by your presence. Struggling to find the right pace, you navigate the delicate task of herding without causing distress. Yet, your caution results in a slow, deliberate progress that doesn't align with Jessi's brisk expectations.

“What's the hold up?” echoes your sister's impatient voice from within the shed, prompting an audible sigh of frustration to escape your lips.

“They run away as soon as I approach! I can't catch a single fucking one…” you lament with a deflated sigh, watching Ha-rin effortlessly wrangle a sheep into the shed for Jessi to shear. The task seems so effortless for her, and you can't help but feel a sense of frustration settling in.

“You've got to assert yourself without stressing them out!” Jessi's instructions echo from the shed. Easier said than done, you think to yourself. 

Why can't she take charge of the herding, leaving you to shear the sheep? After all, how hard can that be? You've handled clippers while cutting hair before!

“Can’t we switch places?” You groan audibly, surrendering and entering the shed. Inside, you find a visibly sweaty Jessi and Soo-ah hard at work shearing sheep. They sport tank tops, drenched in sweat, and you glance at your hoodie, realizing it's time to shed that too. Without second thoughts, you peel it off.

Jessi looks up, setting down the clippers after finishing with one sheep. As it walks off into another pen, she questions, “Do you really want to shear the sheep?”

“Yeah,” you affirm, standing in your tank top, determined to dive into the task at hand. After all, how challenging could it really be?

Jessi chuckles, clearly amused by your determination. She powers down the clippers and stretches her back, beads of sweat tracing a path from her hairline down her face. She breathes heavily, as if she's just completed a vigorous run.

She explains, wiping her face with a cloth, “Just pull this to start the clippers, and again when you're done with a sheep.” Her smile is encouraging as she heads outside into the brisk, hot sun to fetch sheep for you.

Jessi hands you a squirming sheep, and its resistance is evident as you grapple to steady it in your arms for shearing. The sound of Jessi's laughter echoes through the shed as you wrestle with the stubborn creature. You grasp the clippers, initiating their hum, and lower them toward the sheep's wool. Yet, the distressed animal resists, and your attempts to shear off even a single piece of wool are thwarted as it breaks free, darting around the shed in a state of panic.

Laughter erupts in the shed, a symphony of joy, and Jessi joins in with such enthusiasm that she clutches her stomach. Tears, mingled with sweat, streak down her face.

“You have to hold it down, gently though,” Soo-ah instructs, her hands expertly guiding the clippers through the wool of her own sheep. The ease with which she maneuvers the tool makes you realize that she's mastered the art, turning the seemingly complicated task into a graceful dance with the clippers. You watch, determined to learn, as she transforms the shearing process into a captivating display of skill.

“Okay,” you affirm, a newfound determination burning in your eyes as you prepare to make another attempt.

Jessi deftly catches the elusive sheep that had evaded you earlier, guiding it back to the pen with a gentle touch. She shares insights about the importance of letting the sheep de-stress before attempting to shear, imparting her seasoned knowledge in a blend of expertise and empathy.

Jessi strides out to fetch another sheep, its wooly resistance evident in the struggle against her hold. Passing the lively bundle of wool to you, she entrusts you with the task. Cradling the spirited creature in your arms, you activate the clippers, their hum filling the air as you carefully guide them over the sheep's body, determined to conquer the challenge of shearing.

The sheep surprisingly cooperates, holding still as you work the clippers through its wool. Just as you start feeling victorious, Jessi reenters the shed, her expert eye catching a potential mishap. 

“Not that close to the skin, or you’re gonna cut it,” she advises, and a frown creases your face. Examining your progress, you notice the sheep's skin perilously close to being nicked. Quickly shutting off the clippers, you release the half-sheared sheep, which makes a hasty escape. Fortunately, Soo-ah intercepts and expertly completes the shearing process.

Frustration bubbles within you as you groan, “Fuck. This is hard.” 

The sense of failure looms large – unable to smoothly handle the sheep, struggling with the clippers, you question your competence. What, in this unfamiliar environment, can you actually accomplish?

The stifling air in the cramped shed starts to feel suffocating, prompting an urgent need for a breath of fresh air.

“Did you expect it to be easy?” Soo-ah inquires, a knowing smile playing on her lips. Your head shakes in uncertainty. Perhaps. All you yearn for is to excel, to instill a sense of pride in your sister, to debunk the notion that you're merely an inept city dweller. However, in this moment, that's precisely how you perceive yourself.

“You know what– I'm going to take a breather and catch some fresh air,” you declare to the girls, conceding once more. This situation is not to your liking; you yearn to contribute meaningfully on the ranch. Yet, you can't shake the feeling that you're merely impeding everyone's progress.

The girls offer silent nods as you exit, no further words exchanged. Your head hangs low; pride in your performance is absent. You could have done so much better. You just feel so fucking useless.

Your feet guide you outside, greeted by the blazing sun and its intense heat. Grateful for the comfort of a tank top, you make your way to the paddock where the horses leisurely graze. As you open the gate, a mental note reminds you to turn around and ensure its secure closure this time.

Your steps lead you without a clear destination, winding through the landscape until, unexpectedly, you find yourself atop a hill. From this vantage point, the entire ranch sprawls beneath you, yet you choose to avert your gaze. Instead, you turn to face the captivating expanse of the blue sky meeting the rolling green horizon.

As you exhale, your body gives in to a slight slump, settling onto the soft grass. The weight of perceived failure rests on your shoulders. Despite the rational acknowledgment that shearing sheep for the first time comes with a learning curve, the nagging desire to impress Jessi fuels your frustration. 

Why can't you do better?

It's a question echoing in your mind, a silent plea to yourself to rise above this initial struggle.

As thoughts of obtaining Jessi's signature to sell your share of the ranch swirl in your mind, a surprising realization hits you—you're starting to embrace the charm of this vast, open land. The expansive landscapes, the crisp air, the vibrant green grass under the endless blue sky, and the twinkling stars at night, all things the city never offered. Despite labeling yourself a city girl, you're slowly discovering a newfound connection to the land you used to call home. Could this place, once abandoned, become home again? 

Now, as the landscape of the ranch paints a new picture in your mind, you question whether you could reclaim that sense of home. The uncertainty hovers, a cloud casting shadows on your future. Is this rural life meant for you? While Jessi revels in your recent misadventures, you can envision her sharing a beer or uncorking a bottle of wine with the girls the moment you depart. A smirk tugs at your lips as you ponder her probable preference for beer, and you find yourself smiling at that fact.

A yearning for deeper understanding tugs at your core as you grapple with the realization that you might not know your sister as intimately as one would expect siblings to. The echoes of your departure from this place, a mere kid back then, reverberate through the unspoken words that now hang heavily in the air between you and your sister. 

The scars of the past loom large, raising the daunting question: Can time and memories ever bridge the chasm caused by years of separation and untold pain?

As a sigh escapes your lips, a subtle uneasiness takes root in the pit of your stomach, casting a shadow over your thoughts. The gentle caress of the wind on your face seems to mock your inner turmoil, and a low groan escapes you. Despite the reluctance gnawing at your resolve, the undeniable truth lingers – you must return to the shed and confront the unfinished task that awaits.

Maybe you could do something different instead of shearing or gathering sheep. You don’t really want to do that again anytime soon. Maybe you could collect or sort the wool that the others have sheared?

As you gaze up at the vast expanse of the sky, its hues shifting subtly with the passage of unnoticed time, a realization dawns upon you. It's a silent cue to return to the shed and rejoin the collective effort. As you descend the hill, the silhouette of a black and a blue Ford Ranger gradually comes into view, parked near the paddock. A peculiar flutter dances in your chest, a subtle rhythm that you attempt to dismiss, choosing to bury it deep down.

As you approach the shed, the crescendo of voices builds a symphony of anticipation. Upon pushing open the door, a medley of scents assaults your senses—sweat, the unmistakable essence of hard labor. The scene unfolds before you: men toiling away, clad in tank tops, their bodies glistening with the evidence of their exertion, each droplet of sweat a testament to their dedication.

At first glance, your eyes lock onto Jimin, his tousled blonde locks clinging to his perspiring forehead as he skillfully shears the sheep handed to him by Ara. His muscles ripple beneath the strain, defining every inch of his biceps—a visual feast that leaves you momentarily captivated. Unconsciously, you find yourself licking your lips, entranced by the alluring spectacle of him immersed in his work.

The veins in his arms dance beneath the surface, as if daring to break free from their confines, a mesmerizing display of controlled strength as he maneuvers the clipper with precision around the sheep's body. A surge of something indefinable stirs within you, igniting a cascade of flutters in your chest. Flutters dance in your chest, and the heat intensifies, making it suddenly challenging to draw in a simple breath in the midst of the scorching atmosphere.

The beads of sweat cascade from his hairline, tracing a rivulet down his face, and the droplets rhythmically dance along his arms as he deftly pulls the lever, silencing the clipper. The sheep, now freed, scampers towards the other pen, leaving a tangible sense of accomplishment lingering in the air.

Entranced by his every move, you find yourself in a spellbound reverie. When his gaze locks onto yours, revealing that he's caught you stealing glances, a mischievous and knowing smile curves on his lips. 

In that moment, you sense the impending danger he poses to your heart.

As your gaze shifts to Jungkook, you observe beads of sweat mirroring his brother's exertion, his muscular biceps defined beneath the strain of wielding clippers on the sheep. The strands of his black hair cling to his head, forming enticing curls at the ends.

As your eyes traverse the scene, they settle on Hoseok, his luscious brown hair adhering to his face due to perspiration. In a tank top that clings uncomfortably to his sweaty body, he expertly drags sheep from the pen to join Jessi, Jimin, and Jungkook, who are engrossed in the current shearing process.

Next, your gaze descends upon Yoongi, immersed in the task of sorting the wool. With silver hair that curls at the ends from the heat, he emits a groan of frustration while scrutinizing the wool. Intrigued, you approach him, a curious lilt in your voice as you inquire about his current endeavor, genuinely captivated by his activities.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m classifying the wool,” Yoongi's fingers deftly navigate through the wool, inspecting it for imperfections as he classifies it. When he looks up at you, his gaze locks with yours, and a hint of invitation colors his voice as he asks, “Do you want to help? It's easy,” he adds, extending the offer with a subtle challenge in his eyes.

You smile warmly at him, nodding in agreement. The prospect of contributing in a meaningful way lifts your spirits. Yoongi takes the lead, guiding you through the intricate process of classifying wool. He imparts the nuances of the task, pointing out imperfections that could downgrade the wool's quality. 

Yoongi proves to be excellent company. While he remains mostly silent, the occasional grumble escapes his lips as he meticulously identifies imperfections in the wool. 

Out of the blue, you turn to Yoongi, curiosity lighting up your gaze. “Do you like horses?” His response is a subtle smile accompanied by a nod. In the quiet exchange, you sense that he might be a man of few words, his thoughts and emotions hidden beneath the surface, waiting to be unraveled.

As you glance upward, you find Jimin's eyes fixed on you, an intensity that seems to penetrate your very soul. Uncomfortably exposed, you quickly shift your gaze away, unable to withstand the weight of his stare. It's as if he possesses the ability to see through your every layer, leaving you feeling vulnerable and laid bare.

As you approach the halfway point, beads of sweat dotting everyone's exerted faces, a welcomed break arrives. Ha-rin swoops in as the savior, distributing ice-cold water bottles to the parched crew. You practically guzzle down an entire bottle, the refreshing liquid providing a much-needed respite from the relentless heat.

Cool water trickles down your collarbones, and you sense Jimin’s gaze lingering on the droplets. Sweat continues to bead on his face as he dives back into the task of shearing the remaining sheep.

Jessi reenters the shed, her sudden return catching you off guard. You didn’t even know she left. “What the hell is this?” Her eyes narrow at the sheep tags, a visible frown creasing her face—oh, she’s not happy.

Your fingers pause their work on the wool as you look up, meeting Jessi's intense gaze. The tension in the air becomes palpable, and you can't help but feel a knot forming in your stomach. “What’s wrong?” 

“These are the wrong sheep,” Silence descends like a heavy shroud as Jessi's words cut through the air, freezing every motion in the shed. Her revelation hangs in the space between the hum of the clippers and the suspended breaths of everyone present. Your hands, once deftly working with the wool, now hover in limbo, caught in the gravity of her words. All eyes converge on you, and the weight of your mistake settles like an anchor in the pit of your stomach. Unable to face the accusing gazes, you avert your eyes, well aware that you fucked up big time.

Your sister marches towards you at the wool pressing station, her voice cuts through the air like a whip, each word laced with frustration. “You gathered the wrong sheep!” 

Her accusation lands on you like a blow, and you instinctively shrink under the weight of her anger. Hovering over you, she delivers her disappointment with venom, making your body tense in response. The air thickens as she paints the picture of the setback you've caused, and the realization of your mistake casts a shadow over the shed. 

“Now we have to gather the right sheep and shear them too..” Frustration lines her face, and beads of sweat form a trail down her hairline, leaving traces on her tank top. 

In the blistering heat of her frustration, your sister's words cut through the air like a searing wind. “We are going to be behind! And it’s your fucking fault!” Her accusatory finger points directly at your retreating form, each word a sharp pang echoing in the shed. 

The weight of your mistake presses down on you, and you can't bear it any longer. Stepping back, you find yourself in the spotlight, all eyes still fixed on your figure. The suffocating tension hangs heavy in the air, leaving you with a sense of regret that matches the scorching heat around you.

As you retreat towards the door, you catch the remorse and sadness in Jimin's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the chaos unfolding. Pushing yourself outside, you crave distance – an escape from the suffocating atmosphere, from the weight of your failures, and from the relentless series of mistakes that cling to you like a shadow.

Without warning, your feet break into a sprint, the sting of unshed tears threatening to overflow. In the midst of your rapid escape, you acknowledge the bitter truth – a familiar refrain that echoes in your mind: you should have seen it coming; after all, you have a knack for unraveling everything you touch.

Barely a few steps away, a familiar silhouette catches up – it's Jimin. As you reach the outskirts of the main house, standing in the yard, he utters words that echo with a plea, “Please come back,” his voice infused with a tenderness that tugs at your heart.

You exhale a heavy sigh, pausing before taking tentative steps toward the house. Slowly, you pivot your body, facing him with a mix of reluctance and curiosity.

“I fuck everything up Jimin,” you confess, releasing a heavy breath and exhaling deeply. “I feel utterly useless on this ranch.”

You sense your mind descending a ladder it shouldn't tread, but you can't resist. The overwhelming feeling of uselessness sends your thoughts into a tailspin.

“It’s to be expected. You’ll get better.” As he attempts to reassure you, his words only partially register, drowned out by the surging frustration within. A turbulent blend of anger and irritation courses through your veins, and you clench your fists, struggling to steady the rapid rhythm of your heart.

Out of the blue, you throw a question at him, breaking the silence. “Do you think I belong here?” The unexpected inquiry catches him off guard, evident in the momentary gape on his face.

“I do,” he starts, his words carrying a subtle plea, and you're left wondering why. What prompts this earnest assurance from him?

“I believe you just need time,” he adds, a reassuring smile gracing his face. 

“I don't think I fit in, and I feel like an imposter,” you state, the words escaping your lips with a blankness that mirrors the emptiness inside. It's as if all the fight has been drained from you. Thoughts of returning home and calling it quits start to seep in, contemplating whether this life is truly meant for you. The allure of the city beckons, a retreat from the challenges on the ranch and perhaps a way to keep a safe distance from your sister. The idea lingers, tempting you with the notion that everyone might be happier that way.

You feel the raindrops patter on your skin, a cascading rhythm that mirrors the tumult within. Jimin appears unfazed, embracing the downpour without hesitation. The deluge intensifies, nearly drowning you in its relentless flow, mirroring the suffocating feeling of your struggles on the ranch. Is this torrential downpour a sign, urging you to contemplate the idea that perhaps it's truly time to head back to the city?

“We should get back,” Jimin suggests, attempting to guide you back, but the allure of the rain refuses to release its grip. The downpour descends heavily, clinging to your hair, a weight that feels like both burden and baptism. With raindrops tracing trails down your skin, it’s almost as if you’re being cleansed. As he observes your entwined hands, Jimin releases an audible sigh. 

“You belong here,” he whispers, his voice a gentle caress, and a distant memory awakens within you— Childhood days resurface, a time of carefree laughter, a handsome boy uttering those same words when your father tore you away from this very land.

His touch crackles with an electric charge, igniting your skin in a dance with the pelting rain. It's a strange collision of fire and water, the contrasting elements creating a sensation that defies the damp surroundings. Instead of quenching the internal fire, the rain seems to stoke its flames, the intensity growing and nearly overtaking you.

His simple words act as a catalyst, reigniting the spark within you. With a heart fluttering to the rhythm of a wild stallion's gallop, you sprint back to the shed hand in hand, a small newfound determination propelling you forward in the pouring rain.

The lingering sense of uselessness persists, a relentless storm within. The weight of failure bears down on you, exacerbated when Jessi emphatically states that wet sheep can't be sheared. Her reminder echoes in the air, emphasizing the crucial task of gathering the right sheep after the sun works its magic to dry and warm their wool.

Amidst the tumultuous events, a haunting trio of emotions persists – regret, failure, and the sting of embarrassment.

As you move, the gentle yet commanding gaze of hazel eyes tracks your every step, sending a tingling sensation across your skin, creating an undercurrent of anticipation.

Frustration fueled by recent setbacks propels you to reach for your phone, fervently scouring the internet for information on handling your inheritance. Can you maneuver through the legal intricacies to sell your share of the ranch without the elusive signature of your sister?

In a moment of urgency, you delve into the unexplored territory of your inheritance, frantically searching on your phone. To your surprise, the results reveal a glimmer of hope – selling your share of the ranch without your sister's consent is not just a possibility, but a potential reality.

Despite the unsettling churn in your stomach at the thought of selling your share without your sister's knowledge, there's an undercurrent of reassurance. The knowledge that you have this option as a fallback provides a sliver of comfort, a lifeline in case Jessi refuses to grant you her signature.

Even as the warmth of this place and its people seep into your heart, the truth remains unchanged—you were never destined to stay. The allure of a potential sale, with its promise of financial security, continues to beckon, a lingering reminder of the transient nature of your stay.

As Ara flashes you a warm smile while tidying up a horse's stall in the barn, she extends an invitation, “Do you want to come into town with us?” 

You're already lending her a hand, a task you're proficient at among the few things you've mastered during your stay.

“Sure,” you respond with a nonchalant shrug, the prospect of joining them in town offering a welcome diversion. With nothing pressing on your agenda, the possibility of a change of scenery beckons.

After completing the task of clearing out the stalls, you step into the yard, heading towards the pickup truck where Ha-rin awaits. The afternoon briskness plays with the strands of her short black hair.

As you all squeeze into the car, Ara takes the driver's seat and steers towards town. The road stretches out, and a contemplative silence envelops the vehicle. Unsure of what to discuss, you resist the urge to fill the void with forced conversation, allowing the rhythmic hum of the engine to create a canvas for unspoken thoughts.

Ara, surprisingly swift behind the wheel, navigates the journey to town in under two hours, leaving you both impressed and slightly questioning the safety of the speedy drive.

Nevertheless, here you are, immersed in the charm of the small town, wandering the aisles of the local grocery store.

Your trio navigates the aisles in unison, methodically checking items off Jessi's list. The simplicity of the task doesn't escape you, and you're determined not to let this be another thing you mess up.

As your gaze sweeps across the formidable grocery list, you notice an abundance of canned goods, sacks of flour, bags of rice, heaps of pasta, and an array of frozen items. The sheer quantity raises an unspoken question in your mind – is Jessi preparing for an impending event, or is this a routine restocking?

You cast a frustrated gaze away from the overwhelming list, you can't help but voice your exasperation. “Do we seriously need every single thing on this damn list?” The question hangs in the air, met with amused chuckles from the girls, their eyes twinkling with shared understanding.

Ha-rin offers a smile, her explanation accompanied by a purposeful stride as she guides the cart through the aisles, steadily accumulating the items on the lengthy list. “It's mainly for backstock. Stocking up helps us avoid frequent trips to town,” she shares, her words carrying a practical wisdom that resonates with the challenges of ranch life.

As you navigate through the aisle, the sultry tones of a familiar voice reach your ears. “Come on. It'll be fun in my car.” 

Turning the corner, you spot the source—Jungkook, once again in the midst of his charming antics. A chuckle escapes you at the scene: his body leaning into the woman's like a predator and its prey. The pang in your chest is fleeting this time, a mere echo of the past encounter when you found yourself pressed against a wall with Jungkook.

Ara joins you, a shared chuckle escapes her lips as both of you catch sight of Jungkook's flirtatious spectacle. Deciding not to linger, you continue your journey further into the store, leaving the scene behind.

“I feel like I see Jungkook everywhere I go,” laughing, you share your observation with Ara as the cart, now laden with supplies, glides toward the cashier. The recurrent presence of Jungkook in unexpected places has become a quirky pattern in your days.

“Jungkook's reputation with the women in this town is legendary,” Ha-rin remarks, rolling her eyes with a smile. “Not that he's not sweet, but it's as if he's eternally searching, never quite satisfied,” she muses, the words more of a contemplative murmur than a deliberate statement.

As you ponder Ha-rin's remark about Jungkook, a fleeting thought crosses your mind. Could it be true that he, like everyone else, is on a quest for ‘the one’?

At the cashier, you efficiently load all your items onto the till, settle the grocery bill, and proceed to wheel the cart out to the pick-up truck. The teamwork flows seamlessly, and thankfully, the task is swiftly accomplished.

Securing the tarp over the backload of the truck, you turn to Ara and Ha-rin with a curious glint in your eyes. “Do you guys know when Jungkook moved here? I don't recall him being around when I was a kid,” you inquire, a tinge of nostalgia coloring your voice.

As you all climb back into the truck, you can't help but feel a sense of relief with Ha-rin taking the wheel this time – a decision that, for some reason, gives you a comforting notion of safety.

“Jungkook actually moved here shortly after you left,” Ara reveals from the front seat. The engine roars to life as Ha-rin takes control, steering the truck back towards the ranch.

“His mom married Jimin’s father, and they embraced the Park surname as their own. Jungkook’s actual last name is Jeon,” Ara shares, her laughter filling the truck's cabin as she turns to face you more directly. “And here's a tidbit for you: Jessi and Jungkook are actually best friends.” The revelation catches you off guard. Despite their apparent closeness, you hadn't realized the depth of their friendship until now.

“They’re always bickering,” Ha-rin chimes in with an eye roll, steering the car down the main road.

“They just need to fuck each other, that’s all.” Ara declares with a laughter that echoes through the truck.

You join in her laughter, though a peculiar unease settles in your stomach.

You sprint down to the main house, your feet drumming angrily on the dirt, the rhythmic pulse of your heart echoing in your ears. Bursting through the door, you dash into the kitchen, seeking out Ha-rin. Panting, you lean against the door frame, catching your breath.

Gasping for breath, eyes wide with urgency, you implore, “Do you have the vet's number?”

Worry etches across her face as she abandons the vegetables on the countertop. With a swift motion, she retrieves a piece of paper from the fridge, hastily jotting down the vet's number. 

“What's wrong?” she inquires, concern lacing her words. 

You spill the urgency in your voice, “It's Cinnamon, he's just laying down in his stall and I can't get him to stand. He seems to be in pain.”

“This is Namjoon’s number. Call him, and he’ll get here as soon as possible.” She hands you the slip of paper, and as you're about to turn away, heading back to the barn, you flash her a soft smile, gratitude lingering in your gaze.

“It sounds like he might have colic; do everything you can to make him stand up, okay?” She continues with a sense of urgency, turning her attention back to preparing the vegetables for tonight's dinner. You respond with a firm nod, then hastily leave the kitchen, the house, and sprint toward the barn, the piece of paper tightly clenched in your hand.

Cinnamon remains on the ground, emitting a strained whine that sends shivers down your spine. His condition is visibly deteriorating. Anxious, you retrieve your phone and the piece of paper bearing the vet's number. Your fingertips glide across the glass of your phone, tracing unfamiliar numbers before decisively pressing ‘call.’

“Hello, this is Namjoon. How can I assist you?” His voice carries a gentle warmth, hinting at a reassuring smile even through the phone.

“Hey there! My sister's horse is in bad shape. Any chance you could swing by and check him out?” you implore, crouching beside Cinnamon and gently caressing his soft coat.

“Absolutely,” he responds, and a brief pause follows, suggesting he's gathering supplies, the distinct rustling audible. “Mind filling me in on what's going on with the horse?”

After a brief hesitation, you gather your thoughts. Uncertain about Cinnamon's ailment, you decide to echo Ha-rin's suggestion, your voice conveying the worry that grips you. “I suspect it might be colic. He's lying down, and I can't get him to stand up.”

As Namjoon offers advice over the phone, the urgency in his voice becomes apparent. “It might be colic. Try your best to get him up and walk around if possible,” he instructs, the audible sounds of a car door opening and closing in the background. Then, he queries, “Where did you say you were again?”

You chuckle, realizing you hadn't given any information about yourself, let alone an introduction. “I'm at Bora Ranch,” you quickly provide, hoping the vet can navigate his way to your location without further delay.

The silence on the line for a few seconds feels like an eternity, but then his voice resonates close to the phone, “Wait... Are you Jessi’s sister? Is Cinnamon sick?” The urgency in his tone heightens the gravity of the situation.

You nod fervently, forgetting for a moment that he can't see you, and respond, “Yeah, that's right.”

“Okay. I'll be there soon,” he assures you before the line goes silent, the distant hum of a car engine starting in the background. Anxious, you pray that Namjoon arrives quickly; the agony of watching Cinnamon in pain becomes more unbearable by the moment.

You attempt to coax him with a gentle tug on his halter, but Cinnamon remains stubbornly unmoving. It's as if he's determined to stay sprawled on the ground. You wrestle with the conflicting thoughts racing through your mind – would it truly be detrimental if he stayed down? Uncertain, you recall the vet and Ha-rin's advice, urging you to encourage movement. Faced with uncertainty, you resolve to heed their counsel and make a concerted effort to get him back on his feet.

“Come on, buddy, rise up... I beg you to get up,” you groan, attempting to lift Cinnamon's head, but your efforts prove futile. Time seems to blur as you persist in coaxing Cinnamon to stand, your frustration mounting. 

Just when despair threatens to settle in, the distant hum of an incoming car reaches your ears. A surge of gratitude washes over you as the vet's arrival feels like a lifeline in this desperate situation.

The nearing footsteps echo steadily, building anticipation until a towering figure emerges before you. Lifting your gaze, you lock eyes with the imposing presence that has just arrived.

His physique commands attention, a robust build accentuated by broad shoulders and encased in a blue coverall with sleeves artfully rolled up, revealing powerful biceps. Yet, his face carries an inviting warmth, and a friendly smile plays on his lips, instantly putting you at ease. Dimples grace his cheeks, adding a touch of approachable charm as he surveys you and the ailing Cinnamon.

“Greetings, I'm Namjoon, the vet,” he declares, placing his toolbox down before extending a hand for a firm shake. His neatly cropped black hair impeccably frames his face, and you take note of his confident yet gentle demeanor. As you introduce yourself as Jessi’s sister, you step aside, creating room for him to enter the stall and assess Cinnamon more closely.

“I'll conduct a thorough examination, but at the moment, colic appears to be a likely diagnosis,” he mentions, retrieving a set of instruments from his toolbox. With precision, he begins scrutinizing Cinnamon, attentively listening to the rhythmic sounds of the horse's stomach through a stethoscope

“Hmm. Could you fetch that tube protruding from my bag?” He motions towards his toolbox, and you swiftly identify the requested tube, presenting it to him. “Appreciate it,” he responds with a grateful smile, his eyes reflecting a mixture of professionalism and warmth.

“Could you hold the tube for me? I need to step out to my car and retrieve a bag of fluids,” he entrusts you with the tube before swiftly heading outside, returning promptly with the life-saving liquid in hand.

“Appreciate it,” he acknowledges, reclaiming the tube from your hands and linking it to the translucent bag of vital fluid. Squatting down beside Cinnamon, he gently coaxes the horse's mouth open, inserting the tube into his throat. The sight is unsettling, prompting you to avert your gaze; it's too distressing to witness.

“The fluids will aid in rehydration,” Namjoon enlightens you, sensing your reluctance. 

“The tube is in; you can turn around now.” A soft laugh accompanies his words, prompting you to face the scene unfolding before you. Witnessing Cinnamon receiving the vital fluids is a reassuring sight, and you find a glimmer of hope in the expertise of the skilled veterinarian.

“I've administered some medication to help him relax and alleviate the stomach discomfort. You should be able to get him on his feet in a few minutes,” Namjoon explains, rising to his feet and offering you a reassuring smile. His confidence in the treatment plan eases your worry, and you feel a sense of gratitude for his expertise.

“Jessi never brought up having a sister until about a week ago, so your existence was a bit of a surprise,” Namjoon chuckles, casually leaning against the stall's wall.

“That's not entirely surprising. I left this place as a kid, and now I'm grappling with this unexpected inheritance that's become a puzzle I can't quite solve,” you admit, absently scratching the back of your head in a gesture of nervous uncertainty. It's not that Namjoon is making you uneasy; rather, it's the delicate balance of deciding how much of your story to unveil. Some cards, you’ve learned, are meant to be held close to your chest.

“You know, you could always stick around and build a life for yourself here with your sister,” he suggests, a contemplative smile playing on his lips.

“I've been thinking of heading back to the city... Things are a bit complicated around here,” you admit, reflecting on the numerous times you've stumbled and the strain it has put on your relationship with Jessi.

Without waiting for Namjoon's response, Cinnamon unexpectedly stirs, lifting his head with a renewed vitality. Rushing over, you grab his halter and gently coax him back onto his feet.

The tube slips from his mouth with a resonant clatter, and Cinnamon vigorously shakes his head, dispelling the fatigue that weighed on his robust frame. As he rises to stand firmly on all four legs, a wave of relief washes over you, reassuring you that he's on the path to recovery. You offer him a gentle pat, your touch a soothing affirmation of his regained strength.

“If you've got other matters to attend to, I can handle walking him around. My schedule is clear at the moment. I'll look after him until Jessi returns,” Namjoon suggests, securing a tow rope to Cinnamon's halter before leading him out for a stroll.

“Sure thing,” you respond, reflecting on Ha-rin in the kitchen, realizing she could probably use an extra hand. Expressing your gratitude, you head down to the house, relieved that Cinnamon appears to be on the mend.

Teaming up with Ha-rin, you dive into preparing tonight's dinner, savoring the lively conversation between you. A part of you acknowledges the inevitable longing for these moments once you return to the city. For now, you hold onto these cherished times with everyone on the ranch.

As the clock ticks towards dinner, and with no sign of your sister in sight, you notice Namjoon's car still parked by the barn. Determined, you make your way up there, ready to announce that dinner is served, extending an invitation to Namjoon to join if he wishes.

In the warm embrace of the lingering weather, you embark on a short walk towards the barn. The muffled voices of your sister and Namjoon greet your ears, growing more distinct as you draw near. As you gently push the barn door open, an unexpected sight unfolds before you—they share a tender kiss. 

Stunned, your mouth hangs agape, and instinctively, you retreat behind the barn door, veiling yourself in the shadows to avoid catching their attention.

Your decision to conceal yourself feels somewhat irrational. The sight of your sister engaging in a kiss is surprisingly jarring—perhaps it's the sheer unexpectedness. In your mind, you didn’t think she had a romantic bone in her body, and this revelation leaves you in a state of bewildered surprise.

You push open the barn doors, breaking the tender moment between your sister and Namjoon. A faint blush tints your cheeks as their gaze shifts to you. “Dinner's ready,” you announce, a casual invitation extended to Namjoon. Without waiting for their response, you swiftly retreat, your steps carrying you back down to the house.

The unexpected sight quickens your heart, a strange warmth flickering within. It's comforting to see your sister finding solace, someone to lean on as you prepare to depart. Reflecting on your own shortcomings, you realize you've been more of a burden than a support. But perhaps, in Namjoon, she's found a source of stability you couldn't provide.

The dinner unfolds seamlessly, with Namjoon proving to be delightful company. A subtle undercurrent of emotion lingers between him and your sister, evident in shared glances and unspoken words. Witnessing this connection stirs a surprising sense of joy within you, a genuine happiness for your sister.

“Thank you for calling Namjoon, when you saw that Cinnamon was sick,” Jessi's gratitude catches you off guard, her eyes expressing a tenderness you've rarely witnessed. It's a surreal moment, as if a different, softer version of your sister is speaking. She’s even thanking you. Is this moment real?

Namjoon's words carry a reassuring smile, his gaze fixed on you. “Thanks to your prompt call, Cinnamon will be back to his spirited self in just a few days.” His words accompany a gentle smile, his touch offering comfort as he playfully nudges Jessi's shoulder. 

At last, a glimmer of success amidst the string of mishaps. 

A warmth blooms within your chest, and a genuine smile graces your lips. It's a small victory, but in this moment, you revel in the relief of having played a part in something that didn't unravel under your touch.

As the sun shines high, casting a warm glow upon the barn, the rhythmic symphony of saddles being fastened and horses being prepped fills the air. You meticulously saddle up Marshmallow, your loyal companion, while Jessi tends to Cinnamon, who has thankfully bounced back from his bout of colic. In the background, Ara, Ha-rin, and Soo-ah bustle around, collecting saddles and bridles for their own equine companions. Each of their horses, with coats of varying browns, don distinctive stockings, that makes it easier to tell them apart.

“Are the guys meeting us here?” Curiosity colors your expression as you inquire about the guys, your gaze following Jessi's skilled hands as she readies Cinnamon. 

With the saddle securely in place and the bridle in hand, Jessi exudes confidence, her words carrying a definitive tone, promising the imminent arrival of the guys, “Yeah, they’ll be here at any moment.” Stepping out of the barn, she leads Cinnamon with purpose.

As you prepare to tack up Marshmallow, the task of fastening the girth on the saddle demands your attention. Yet, in the midst of the routine, Marshmallow stands patiently, a paragon of trust and reliability. With practiced ease, you secure the girth, appreciating the unwavering steadiness of your equine companion before moving on to put on the bridle.

While you meticulously attend to Marshmallow, the trio of Soo-ah, Ha-rin, and Ara prove to be swift in their preparations. The clatter of hooves signals their efficiency, and before you can lead Marshmallow out, they're already guiding their horses into the open, joining Jessi in the vibrant embrace of the outdoors.

After meticulously preparing Marshmallow, you guide him out of the barn to find the girls eagerly mounted on their horses, a scene brimming with anticipation. They sit poised, their eyes on you.

Gracefully mounting Marshmallow, you settle into the saddle with practiced ease, a seamless fusion of rider and horse. Alongside the girls, you wait for the guys to arrive.

On top of the hill, four men adorned with cowboy hats emerge as the charge down the hill with an effortless equestrian elegance. The rhythmic cadence of hooves makes your heart feel giddy with anticipation and you take a moment to appreciate how incredible they all look on horseback.

Jungkook commands a fiery red stallion, its thick mane billowing gracefully in the wind, embodying untamed vitality. Meanwhile, Jimin guides a sleek black horse, distinguished by elegant white stockings that accentuate its majestic presence. Trailing closely behind, Yoongi and Hoseok navigate their sturdy brown horses. 

As they approach, the undeniable allure of these men becomes even more apparent. Is everyone in the country just handsome?

However, it's Jimin's eyes that captivate you instantly—deep pools reflecting a passion that seems to run as profound as the countryside hills. The cowboy hat sits stylishly on his head, allowing strands of his blonde hair to playfully escape. His green checkered button-down shirt clings snugly to his well-defined torso, sleeves casually rolled up. The denim pants and boots bear the marks of hard work, adorned with the earthy traces of the ranch.

Jungkook dons a shirt that molds perfectly to his sculpted pectorals, paired with snug denim jeans and sturdy boots. Yoongi opts for a white tank top, showcasing his lean arms and defined biceps. Meanwhile, Hoseok sports a loose gray shirt that complements his easygoing style, paired effortlessly with denim pants.

“Hi,” resonates in unison from the group of guys as they approach you near the barn. A smile graces your lips, but your attention quickly shifts to your sister, fully aware that she's likely crafted a meticulous plan for the upcoming cattle drive.

“Nice of you to make it in time,” Jessi grunts, a small smile playing on her lips, punctuated by a chuckle.

“Someone had to spend an eternity getting ready,” Jungkook quips, rolling his eyes and nodding toward Jimin. He follows it with a nonchalant shrug, not bothering to deny it.

“What’s the plan, boss?” Hoseok asks, brimming with eagerness to get started. Jungkook scoffs beside him, “Boss? She’s not your boss– I am.”

Hoseok burst out in a beautiful, contagious laughter, echoing through the air and drawing a chuckle from you.

“Kook, just shut up,” Jessi laughs, her voice carrying a hint of playful exasperation. Then, she takes a deep breath, steadying her posture, “We'll move the cattle from the northeastern paddock to the one closest to the Bell Ranch.”

Amidst nods from everyone, Yoongi leans down, patting his horse's neck with a soothing touch that elicits a deep, resonant whine from the animal. “Anything else?” he asks, his voice a calm undercurrent in the anticipation-laden air.

Jessi's gaze sweeps across the group, her eyes meeting each one in turn. A stern but determined expression settles on her face. 

“This is a stress-free drive, so remember, no pushing the cattle!” Her words hang in the air, setting the tone for the upcoming task.

Jessi orchestrates the plan with precision, assigning roles to each member of the team. “Me and Soo-ah will take the front, Ha-rin, Hoseok, Kook, and you,” she points directly at you, “will cover the sides, and then Jimin, Yoongi, and Ara will handle the back of the herd.” Her directive gaze holds a sense of purpose, and a unanimous agreement ripples through the group.

“Let’s get going!” Jessi announces, her voice bubbling with excitement as she nudges Cinnamon into a spirited gallop. Eagerly, the rest of the group surges forward, and you, too, urge Marshmallow into a rhythmic canter, the rhythmic beat of hooves creating a lively symphony as the cattle drive begins.

To reach the north-eastern paddock, the journey takes you over rolling hills and through a small forest, where fallen trees create impromptu jumping courses. Jungkook, seizing every opportunity, guides his horse with finesse over the natural obstacles. Yoongi and Hoseok follow suit, while Soo-ah and your sister eagerly join in on the exhilarating equine adventures.

As the group revels in the joy of riding, laughter fills the air as they expertly guide their horses over logs and obstacles, showcasing their agility and camaraderie. Meanwhile, the rest of you opt for the smoother path, enjoying the less rugged terrain.

Amidst the playful antics of the group, you observe Jimin refraining from the lively jumping games. However, his infectious laughter resonates, and his eyes crinkle in mirth.

you sense his attentive gaze lingering on you as you ride, creating a flutter that dances in your stomach reminiscent of the last time you felt his eyes roam your body.

As you reach the paddock, Jessi gracefully maneuvers Cinnamon into position, opening the gate from atop his back. With a synchronized pace, you guide your horses through the entrance.

“Alright, everyone, let's find our positions. And keep in mind— stress-free!” Jessi's eyes pierce through the group, emphasizing the importance of a calm approach. 

The importance of a stress-free approach for better cattle sales echoes in your mind, a principle she insists upon even when the herd isn't up for sale yet. It's Jessi's commitment to consistency, and you brace yourselves for the task ahead, determined to maintain the calm demeanor required for a successful drive.

Jessi and Soo-ah kick their horses into a measured trot, leading the way towards the grazing cattle. The rhythmic beats of hooves on the ground set the tone for the impending drive, as you and the rest of the group follow, creating a unified force propelling towards the herd.

With precise coordination, Ha-rin and Hoseok elegantly flank the right side of the cattle, while you and Jungkook synchronize on the left. Together, you form an unyielding circle, ensuring the cattle remain contained within your guiding presence. Bringing up the rear, Jimin, Yoongi, and Ara stand as guardians, securing the boundaries of the moving cattle.

As you gradually set the cattle in motion, your horses step purposefully, nudging the herd forward with a deliberate yet gentle momentum. The realization dawns on you that this endeavor could stretch into hours at the current pace. A silent acknowledgment passes through your mind – a subtle premonition that your ass is going to hurt after this damn long cattle drive. Sigh. 

Adjusting yourself in the saddle, a subtle awareness creeps over you, when you feel a tingling sensation run through your body – the distinct sense of Jimin's eyes tracing your movements. Expectantly, you turn to meet his gaze, only to find his attention fixated on the cattle, his expression unreadable. 

The vast expanse of open land surrounds you, the lush green grass beneath your horse's hooves and the endless blue sky overhead create a beautiful image, like straight from a painting. Despite the scorching summer heat, you appreciate the breathability of your t-shirt, confident it shields you from overheating. 

Glancing at Jimin, clad in a button-down shirt, you can't help but wonder if he's feeling the heat, beads of sweat possibly forming beneath the fabric.

As the chatter of small groups fills the air, you and Jungkook maintain a contemplative silence, guiding the cattle towards Bell Ranch at a deliberate pace. The rhythmic hoofbeats and the collective murmur create a serene backdrop to your silent partnership, each of you immersed in your own thoughts as the herd moves forward.

Jungkook maneuvers his horse closer to yours, prompting a curious look from you. Leaning in, he turns his head in your direction and asks, “Are you alright?” His voice carries a genuine concern, and you find yourself captivated by the unexpected tenderness in his eyes.

His unexpected question catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily wide-eyed. A soft chuckle escapes him as you gather your thoughts. 

“I'm fine,” you assure him with a gentle smile, the warmth in your expression matching the pleasant day unfolding around you.

His words hang in the air, laced with a playful smile that reaches his eyes. “I've sensed a bit of avoidance on your end since the barn party,” he says, punctuating the statement with a wink and a teasing smirk.

Your words rush out, a mix of surprise and reassurance. “I really wasn't avoiding you,” you start, hoping to convey that any perceived avoidance was unintentional. 

“Are you hurt because you wanted a relationship with me?” His words, delivered with an air of casual curiosity, strike a chord within you. The nonchalant tone belies the complexity of the question. In the initial moments, a pang of hurt may have flickered, not due to a desire for a relationship, but from the lingering sense that there might have been more beneath the surface between you.

His unexpected question leaves you momentarily flabbergasted. “No, Jungkook. I've just heard a lot…” Your sentence hangs in the air, interrupted by his swift interjection, “That I fuck around a lot?” The weight of his reputation hangs in the air, injecting a charged energy into the conversation.

As you nod in acknowledgment, he erupts into laughter, exuding an undeniable sense of self-contentment. There's a certain admiration that sprouts within you, witnessing his unapologetic confidence.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly cut out for relationships. I just wanted to clear the air, make sure you weren’t expecting something more from me,” he grins, and you reciprocate with a smile of your own.

“I don’t, but I’d love to be friends with you?” His face lights up at your words, a radiant smile nearly outshining the sun. Laughter bubbles up from within you, a newfound lightness filling your chest now that you’ve cleared the air.

Just when you anticipate him riding away, he edges even closer, your horses nearly touching. “Actually,” he leans in, whispering in your ear, “I've noticed the way Jimin looks at you.” 

Your ears and cheeks blaze with heat, and your heartbeat quickens, as if a spark could set you ablaze at any moment. Has Jungkook truly sensed the simmering tension between his brother and you? While in conversation with Jungkook, the weight of chocolate brown eyes drilling into your back intensifies, a silent observer.

A nervous chuckle escapes you, blending with Jungkook's laughter beside you. “I've also noticed the way you look at him,” he adds, his eyes glinting with a playful understanding that hints at the unspoken connection between you and Jimin.

This revelation tightens the grip of anxiety around your chest, your heart threatening to burst forth. You believed your feelings were veiled in subtlety, yet Jungkook's revelation suggests otherwise. Your palms turn clammy as his warm breath grazes your ear, a sensation that sends electric shivers coursing through your entire body.

Jungkook straightens up on his horse, creating some distance that allows you to breathe more freely. However, his words hang in the air, echoing in your mind. “You should make a move,” he suggests casually. Yet, his words echo in your mind, almost making you choke on the fresh air, and your eyes widen. Does he really think you should make a move on Jimin— won’t that be weird?

An awkward chuckle escapes your lips as you voice the concern that's been gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. 

“I mean, he's your brother… Won’t that be weird?” The words stumble out, a bit disjointed, revealing the nervous energy that now dances between you and Jungkook. The admission of your attraction to Jimin hangs in the air, making the situation more delicate than ever.

His honest words wash over you, a tide of reassurance in a sea of uncertainty. “I don't think it's weird, at least not for me,” Jungkook confesses, and suddenly, the weight of apprehension begins to lift. His understanding response offers a newfound comfort, nudging you to consider the possibility of embracing your feelings for Jimin.

He leans back into you, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, “Also, he's looking at you now, practically undressing you with his eyes.” The words send a thrilling shiver down your spine, creating an electric surge inside your body and a charged atmosphere as you process the realization of Jimin’s lingering gaze.

You gulp, acutely aware of Jimin's lingering gaze that has been like a steady flame throughout the day, igniting a fire in your body that you're hesitant to stoke. Jungkook chuckles at your nervous reaction, and in that momentary distraction, you both fail to notice two cattle slipping away from your side.

“The cattle are out!” The urgency in Yoongi's shout pierces the air, and without a second thought, you and Jungkook kick your horses into a gallop, chasing after the errant cattle. Jimin swiftly takes your place at the side of the herd, seamlessly filling the gap left in your wake.

Side by side with Jungkook, you expertly corral the two stray cattle, seamlessly reintegrating them with the rest of the herd. Yet, a discerning glance from your sister reveals your momentary lapse in attention.

Her voice carries a hint of frustration as she scolds, “Didn't I emphasize a stress-free drive?” Her eyes reflect irritation as she shakes her head disapprovingly. Resuming your original positions with Jungkook, Jimin strides purposefully back to his spot at the rear of the herd.

Apologizing, you attempt to justify, “I'm sorry, but they were making a run for it…” However, Jessi isn't willing to accept your explanation.

Her frustration boils over, “You always mess things up—the feed, the tire, the gate, and now this!” With an exasperated exhale, she falls silent and resumes her position at the front of the group.

Your complexion drains of color, the weight of Jessi's accusations sinking in. Has she been keeping a tally of your every misstep? You're well aware of your frequent blunders, but Jessi's direct call-out stings. 

Gripping the reins tightly, you feel frustration coursing through your veins. With a deep breath, you fight to regain composure, not wanting to distress Marshmallow with your unsettled state.

“It’s okay,” Jungkook attempts to offer reassurance, but you're in no mood to accept it. The exhaustion of another setback on the cattle drive weighs heavily on you. “It's not okay,” you groan, a sense of deflation settling in. It seems like setbacks always find a way to plague you.

You pivot on Marshmallow, addressing Ara with urgency, “Ara, can we switch places?”

Ara offers you a gentle, reassuring smile, nodding in agreement as she guides her horse to your side. With a turn, you position Marshmallow at the back, now flanked by Jimin and Yoongi.

Frustration envelops the atmosphere at the back, and it's mostly yours. A silent tension lingers between you, Jimin, and Yoongi. It crosses your mind that they might be hesitant to engage in conversation, a realization that irritates you further.

“Just let it go,” Yoongi utters, his gaze fixed ahead, and for a moment, it's unclear if the advice is meant for you. Your retort comes swiftly, “Easy for you to say; you're not the one stumbling at every turn.” A frustrated exhale follows, tension thick in the air.

“He did in the beginning,” Jimin chimes in, a playful smile accompanying his laughter. Yoongi, rolling his eyes at Jimin’s jest, contributes, “I did. You learn from each and every one of your screw-ups.” 

“It's pointless,” you sigh, a heavy sense of defeat settling over you. It's time to call it quits.

Jimin visibly startles at your candid statement, a subtle flinch in his movements. The tension radiates through him, evident in the stiffening of his shoulders. Yoongi, wisely choosing silence, refrains from adding anything further, sensing it's not the moment to provoke.

The remainder of the drive proceeds with minor mishaps, and you successfully avoid major blunders in the back. However, upon reaching Bell Ranch, Jessi's dissatisfaction with your performance becomes glaringly apparent as she candidly expresses her discontent.

“I don’t want to get into it,” you share, burdened by your own errors and unwilling to hear your sister enumerate your shortcomings in ranch life. Surprisingly, she heeds your request, allowing you to brood in solitude while the others relish a well-deserved sip of water, celebrating the triumph of a fruitful cattle drive.

A somber cloud seems to loom over your head, making it challenging for you to partake in the joy and success radiating from the others.

“I’m going back to the ranch,” you announce to the group, their expressions registering surprise before they nod in acknowledgment. Striding purposefully, you make your way back to where Marshmallow is tethered to a post, swiftly mounting him. A gentle squeeze of your legs, and he bursts into a rapid gallop, carrying you away.

You surge over the undulating hills, the lush green grass beneath you, a cascade of dirt trailing in the wake of Marshmallow's swift strides. Granting him the freedom to unleash his energy, you, too, allow your emotions to unravel. This gallop, akin to the refreshing rain, brings a cleansing sensation, each stride lightening the burden on your mind.

As the ranch emerges on the horizon, you guide Marshmallow into a brisk trot, the anticipation building with each step. Upon reaching the barn, you meticulously strip away his gear, setting him free into the paddock alongside his equine companions, the sun casting a warm glow on the familiar surroundings.

Determined to shift your focus, you stride purposefully toward the main house, contemplating the idea of preparing a hearty dinner for the returning group. The uncertainty of their arrival lingers, but the thought of a satisfying meal upon their return fuels your motivation to create something special.

Seeking refuge in the kitchen, you throw yourself into the rhythm of meal preparation, attempting to drown out the echoes of your perceived failures. However, just as you find solace in the routine, a gentle pattering on the roof and windows interrupts your thoughts – the subtle arrival of rain. 

As you lose yourself in the culinary dance, time becomes elusive. When you finally lift your gaze from the bubbling pots, a captivating sight unfolds outside the kitchen window – the girls, drenched from the rain, riding back on horseback. The tantalizing aroma of dinner fills the air, and with their return, you hope to satisfy not only their hunger but also the unspoken cravings lingering in the rain-kissed atmosphere.

In a swift transition, they sweep into the house, their laughter mingling with the aroma of the rain outside. Together in the kitchen, a collaborative symphony ensues as you and the girls put the finishing touches on dinner, setting the table in the warm glow of the living room. Despite the subtle undercurrent of Jessi's irritation, you forge ahead, determined not to let it cast a shadow over the convivial atmosphere you're creating.

Amidst the shared warmth of the dinner table, Ha-rin expresses her gratitude, breaking into a chuckle that echoes the sentiment of relief. “Thank you for taking the reins in the kitchen,” she acknowledges, savoring the anticipation of a meal without the familiar duty of preparing it.

As you share a smile with Ha-rin, a peculiar tension lingers around the table, casting a shadow over the meal. Your appetite wanes, reduced to absentmindedly stabbing at the food on your plate.

“Why do you keep messing up?” Jessi's voice pierces the air, frustration palpable as her gaze locks onto you. The question hangs in the room, demanding an answer you're not sure how to provide. Honestly, the reasons behind your repeated slip-ups elude you, leaving a disconcerting silence in their wake.

You release a frustrated sigh, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. Clenching your hands in a bid to contain the brewing storm of emotions, you admit, “I... don't know.” 

The confession hangs in the air, a raw acknowledgment of your own confusion and struggle.

Jessi's frustration explodes, her voice cutting through the air like a sharp gust of wind. “I give you clear instructions, but you manage to mess it up every time!” 

Her words reverberate across the table, a storm of tension settling over the room, leaving the rest of the girls in hushed silence, their eyes darting between the two of you as the confrontation unfolds.

“I'm well aware that I mess things up, but damn it, I'm trying!” Your voice echoes with a mix of frustration and desperation, the words carrying a weight of both anger and a plea for understanding.

“If you can't handle it, then I don't want you here,” she declares with unwavering determination, and you find yourself gaping at her. The simmering anger within threatens to boil over, your hand involuntarily unclenching as the tension in the room tightens like a coiled spring.

“Maybe I should just leave then! Sell my share of the ranch,” you retort with a sharp edge, your heartbeat quickening as anger boils inside, transforming your thoughts into a seething red haze.

She scuffs, “Just go, but you’re never getting my signature.”

“I don’t need your signature. I consulted a lawyer, and he said I don’t need it,” you assert, crossing your arms firmly over your torso. 

Jessi's face turns pale at your revelation, and she hisses, “You wouldn’t dare!” 

She's fuming, but you don’t care. 

Unaware of the startled looks from the girls, Jessi has risen from her seat, poking her finger at you. “You wouldn’t dare,” she repeats, her voice seething with disbelief.

“I would,” you declare with unwavering certainty, rising from your seat across from your sister. The air crackles with tension as both of you yell at each other, and it feels like there's no turning back now.

Blinded by rage, you find yourself panting and seething, the room tainted with the color of your fury. The atmosphere becomes oppressive as Jessi slams her hands down onto the table, her words cutting through the air like venom. “I don't want you here. Get the fuck out, and I mean it this time,” she commands, each word carrying the weight of finality, stinging and lingering in the charged silence that follows.

“FINE,” you hiss, your hands clenched in frustration, a turbulent storm of emotions swirling within. It's a bitter realization that this place isn't for you, that your sister neither wants nor needs your presence. With a resigned exhale, you retreat from the table, striding out of the dining room and into the solitude of your guest room, the weight of rejection settling heavily on your shoulders.

You yank open your bags, tearing the closet apart to gather your belongings. The relentless rain pelts against the windows, mirroring the storm of emotions inside you. Frustration wells up within you, and as you navigate the room to collect your scattered belongings, the blur of tears makes it challenging to see. 

Damn it. 

This wasn't the outcome you anticipated.

You never quite found your place here, and perhaps you never truly belonged. Uncertainty engulfs you, a whirlwind of thoughts storming within your mind. Yet, now you're bound for the city. Your heart tightens at the prospect of returning, leaving behind a place that, against all odds, had grown dear to you.

But in the grand scheme of it all, none of it holds significance now. You hastily cram the remaining belongings into your bags and sling them over your shoulders. Your initial packing was minimal, and your city friend's contributions were modest, a reflection of the short-lived stay you had anticipated from the beginning.

A heavy sigh escapes you as you exit the guest room, traversing through the familiar dining room. Pausing in the doorway, you let the weight of the moment settle, and with a resigned tone, you utter, “I suppose this is our farewell.”

Ara, Soo-ah, and Ha-rin bid you a somber farewell, their eyes reflecting sadness, but as you turn to face Jessi, her gaze remains stubbornly averted. The palpable tension weighs on you, causing your shoulders to slump in defeat. With a heavy heart, you step outside, making your way to your parked car.

As the rain continues to cascade around you, you disregard the wetness, traversing the distance from the main house to your car. The downpour soaks you thoroughly as you hurriedly stow your bags in the vehicle. Seated inside, a poignant moment unfolds, mirroring the tears glistening in your eyes with the relentless rain outside.

With a heart weighed down by the burdens of departure, you insert the key into the ignition, the mechanical click echoing the emotional weight within. As the engine hums to life, it serves as a reluctant melody to the bittersweet symphony of leaving.

An unsettling sense of déjà vu envelops you as you bid farewell to this familiar haven for the second time. Yet, this departure bears the weight of your own volition, amplifying the melancholy that lingers in the air. 

Regret creeps in, leaving a bitter aftertaste as you press down on the gas, steering the car away from what you once called home, now fading into the rearview mirror.

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 💜 I’m not really feeling very well at the moment. I’m very depressed and I was even hospitalized last week because of trigger warning suicidal thoughts… anyway. I’m struggling, but I enjoy writing this, and I’m gonna see it to the end, even though I feel very disheartened by the notes (I really shouldn’t look, but I’m only human, lol. And I’m comparing it to my other works, not other’s because that can get dangerous real fast!). But anyway. Writing is therapeutic for me, but posting seems to be the hurdle for me now… so I’m thinking— only thinking, that this story might be the last one that I post. I don’t know yet. Just a thought. Anyway. I’m very happy to have some lovely friends here— thank you guys! You already know who you are 🫶✨

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

[crypticsketchpad]

ok u know what. *organics your robots*

spec bio wubbox concepts because why not! lore and rambling under the cut:

The Wubbox is an ancient species of monster dating back to the Dawn of Fire. Presumed to be extinct post-cataclysm, several caves full of dormant eggs have been found in the present day, and the species has once again become widespread in monster society. Loud, powerful, and somewhat territorial, they served as guardians of pre-contemporary monster tribes, and were regarded as gifts from the Celestials.

pic explanations

1. sketch of an adult wubbox, with different textures/components labeled. they are mostly covered in armor-like scales that are shed periodically; these can be replaced/upgraded by artificial parts, and are often repurposed into armor and instruments by other monsters.

2. sketch of a wubbox hatchling + notes:

- Baby teeth are sparse but very sharp, can and will eat almost anything (young wubboxes are notoriously ravenous, which lead to the myth that they eat other monsters)

- Protective cap over chest “speaker” (see image 4), falls off after a few weeks

- Long, fluffy fur for retaining warmth

- Simple armor plates that are shed several times while growing; initial set is made of eggshell parts that fuse onto the hatchling’s body

- Bioluminescent markings do not appear until adulthood

3. “blushing” wubbox; when flustered, their under-eye plates retract slightly, exposing patches of fur on their cheeks. these patches, like the rest of their fur, is bioluminescent, and is similar in texture to fiber optic lights

4. rough respiratory system diagram. they have very large lungs with a sort of dual output system; when speaking or “singing”, air passes through their larynx and into a hollow cavity in their chest covered by an eardrum-like membrane that functions like a speaker. this amplifies their voice and creates their signature booming roars.

5. side view of a wubbox’s head + skull concept. their mouths are full of large, flat teeth, with a diet consisting of vegetation and processed foods. 

6. earth epic concept. in this scenario, “epic” wubboxes are the result of eggs being stored in certain environments for prolonged periods of time and developing specific adaptations for said environments; for example, an earth epic would be created by keeping an egg buried in volcanic ash, in/near magma, or just in a high temperature environment.

an earth epic’s horns are hollow tubes developed from their eye plates, which grow out to cover their nostrils completely; these horns are the output of a built-in air purification function in its respiratory system that filters the ash and smoke it breathes in and ejects the contaminants in mist clouds.

7. air epic concept + notes

- Large eyes and angled under-eye plates

- Wingtips are notched like an eagle’s (air epics are very fast and agile fliers, being smaller and more lightweight than others of their species)

- “Nostrils”/air output valves on their wrists; purpose unknown (these are mainly used to emit train whistle-like shrieks for communication, but why they exist is a mystery)

- Body armor plates are replaced by smaller, feather-like scales

8. lol bald eagle

extra note bc i haven’t designed the rare versions yet: “rare” wubboxes are the result of experimentation on a common individual in an effort to “improve” the species for the modern age; all current rares are clones of the first successful specimen

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

when you get this, please respond with five things that make you happy! then, send to your last ten people in your notifs (anonymously). you never know who might benefit from spreading positivity <3

thank you for this whoever you are anon, I’ve had a really weird day (my doggo had a health scare and is overnight in the hospital—he should be okay! but I’m anxious for him since he was hospitalized last year too and emerg vet bills are WILDDDD etc & the day started out so well with him & then took an unexpected turn), & I’m having a bad pain night & feeling a lil helpless about my chronic pain and never being able to work ahahahahhhh, so this truly means a lot to get right now!!!

Five things that make me happy:

Palladium (the album) by Greyson Chance hehe I listen to this at least twice a day basically :) !! In my opinion this album is a masterpiece and you have to listen to it in order (it’s so much better in order hehe there are tons of interludes and little transitions that are beautiful chronologically). I love every single moment of that album. It never gets old and I’ve been listening to it repeatedly since March!!

The “is XYZ in the room with us right now” meme. I laugh every time.

My dog relaxing as I blow dried him today (because he’s jumpy and afraid of everything so when he realized getting blow dried is just getting infinite butt rubs—his fave thing—it was so cute). Pre hospital lol. He was soooo soft!!

I brought my dad a snack today while he was working and he seemed so excited about it that he kept bringing it up all day

Lonan and Harrison <3 lol losers have a chokehold on me!! they’ve been making me happy for a long time awwww. Yesterday I actually found what I think might be the very first Lonanasona story (and first thing in Harrison’s pov). I totally forgot about it and it’s probably been five years since I opened the document. I wrote this on my notes app in July 2018 apparently lol. So I was 16! Little excerpt under the cut for fun!

He goes from waking to sleeping rather quickly when his sheets rustle next to him. Shot out of his slumber, Harrison gasps on the remnants of his dream, tossing a hand out to steady his chest.

“What are you doing?” He’s so tired, he hardly processes the voice as his.

Lonan turns his shoulder toward Harrison’s face, tossing the disheveled comforter around his waist. Face is quiet, hair in his eyes. Harrison hates the pull in his stomach.

“Where’s Emily?” Lonan whispers, crooks his cheek against her pillow.

Emily doesn’t stay with him anymore. He should say. Ever since he put those thoughts into her head, no, she sleeps across the hall, with two bolts on her door instead of one.

“Why does it matter? You can’t just barge in here uninvited.”

“You left the door unlocked.” Lonan says.

Ris sighs, shakes his head so the bed makes a cotton whistle. He doesn’t like his skippy pulse, and heavy breaths. Doesn’t like the spell Lonan casts him under. He’s getting up before he can think, swung his legs off the bed, hand outreached for the lamp.

Lonan’s grip around his wrist jolts him back into reality, and his breath catches. Harrison curses, but doesn’t shake him off, instead cocks his head over his shoulder to take a look at the boy ahead of him. He’s been crying, Ris knows that. Eyes are puffy and red, even visible under dark. He hasn’t slept. Maybe an hour, he’s tried for more, but hasn’t been successful. Harrison doesn’t even have to ask why. No clarification necessary, he knows it’s the nightmares, but Lonan will never tell him that.

“You have to leave.” Harrison says. Lonan looks blue in this light.

[katriniac]

Part 2 -

So perfume and cologne are a BIG part of the story theme, both in the dreams and in real life.

It's not just mentioned in passing. Fragrance is a noted several times.

What does it smell like

Who is wearing it

How they know their identity when they recognize the scent

When does it smell strongest, and after what type of activity

There's even a scene from Rosa's dream (not pictured here) where she coughs and chokes on the gross strong cologne worn by Cedric (antagonist in this story).

And then in the video call you get from Artem after the story is over, he invites you to custom-mix a perfume. So the two of you can wear the SAME SCENT.

...Because that's what two colleagues who have no romantic attachment do, apparently.

Yup.

Completely normal for a man and woman to wear the same identical and customized scent. For the sake of the client. For public relations purposes.

Sure. 😏 ...surrrrrre.

For some reason, Tumblr won't let me post a video inside a reblog, so here's the link to his fully-voiced video call. You HAVE to watch it to see his blush spread, and how his eyes skitter around when he's making up preposterous excuses for wanting to wear a matching scent!

*squeeee*

VIDEO LINK:

Next:

This scene at the end of the ball where Cedric confronts Artem about inviting Rosa to the event when she isn't on his 'level' yet and will always be 'worlds apart' because she's not in their elite social sphere or as accomplished as the rest of the guests.

But Cedric is simply hiding his true intentions: he wanted Rosa for himself and is attempting to put her down so he doesn't feel bad that she chose to be Artem's dance partner.

Artem burns him to a crisp without any hesitation.

*wolf whistle*

YOU GO, ARTEM! Tear that jerk to pieces!

Next favorite scene:

Later that night after he drops Rosa off at her apartment, and he's home.

He's ruminating on the successful evening. Annnnnd ... FINALLY gives himself a much-needed push to stop hesitating.

*victorious fist pump*

Yes! Do it!

*SQUEEEEEEE*

I'm so proud of him when he gains a little bit more confidence in each new story.

Plus, that cable-knit sweater looks so COZY! It reminds me of the Aran Island Fishermen sweaters, so of course that makes me fall even deeper in love with Artem because anything Irish = positive attributes, LOL 😆

So I find myself simping hard for Artem Wing this morning, and decide to nurse that ache by re-reading my favorite Tears of Themis card stories.

First up is Por Una Cabeza

When I first pulled this card, all I knew was that I was getting ARTEM WEARING A FANCY MASK.

But then I read the story and was confused.

Like, really confused.

Spoilers below the cut if you haven't read this card yet.

This post has two parts. Maybe three if I decide to include the video trailer? So look in my reblogs for the rest of this recap!

This card's story is set BEFORE they are in an established relationship, before any love confession takes place.

So ... both Rosa and Artem are having similar nightmares at the beginning, but the reader isn't aware they are reading a dream.

Now that I am reading it through again, I can more fully appreciate the other-worldliness of the "nightmare" and understand why everyone is acting strangely with bad memories, lol.

The bright red digital clock face glaring at Tosa in the fancy hotel lobby makes MUCH more sense more that I know it's her own bedside alarm clock she's incorporating into her dreamscape.

Also? ALSO?!? TODAY, the day I'm reading this right now is December 24th! What are the odds! I totally forgot this story takes place on Christmas Eve, because they call the event the New Year's Ball. Idk why... 🤷‍♀️

Anyways, back to recapping my favorite moments:

🥹 @ Artem second-guessing himself, worrying about you, wondering if you're okay, and if it's his fault

Awwwww, Artem!

His pouting face!

That's just like him to be concerned, and to jump to the conclusion that it might be his fault. He also wants to get to the bottom of any problem you have, so he can:

Discover the root cause of "Problem X"

Understand the reason for your distress

And plan for ways to fix/avoid it in the future so you never have to encounter/worry about "Problem X" ever again

Yes, this man is a 'fixer' but he does more than put a cosmetic bandage on things. He wants to make sure you never have to experience that same hurt a second time. He wants to learn from his own mistakes and others to prevent problems in the future. He wants to control the outcome by preparing for any eventuality.

The amount of energy and effort he puts into his "Rosa Long-Game" is mind-boggling.

Okay, I could go on forever about Artem's control issues, how amazing he is, and what makes him perfect husband-material.

So let's not get lost in the weeds out here. Back to the story!

There is this sublime moment where the two nightmares meld, as if the two of them are sharing the same dream!

And they meet FINALLY, after hours of panicked searching and confusion:

So they eventually wake up, and they decide to text the other to see if they're awake, and it turns into a phone call. No biggie. Just a phone call. At 2am. Between coworkers. Talking about their dreams. 😘 Nothing peculiar about that, right?

Everyone does that with their colleagues, don't they??

😏 Sure .... sure.

Next:

We find out Artem only knows one dance.

Which isn't exactly weird... many dudes don't know any dances.

What is odd is the one dance this shy boy knows:

The tango?

One of the most sensual and passionate dances ever?

Really?

Really.

The tango.

That's your go-to dance, Artem?

Okay.

Let's keep reading:

Ohhhhhh.

*BREATHES*

We get a glimpse into their month-long practices.

30 days of being caged in Artem's arms, spending every day after work in close proximity, working up a sweat.

Oof.

And then once you're confident in the steps, the fun part of the "act" both partners must put on to sell the push and pull of emotions.

The haughtiness, the indignation, the desire, the attraction, the softening and relenting at last, all of that passion needed to put on a good show!

Yup...

...Just what two normal work co-workers do on a daily basis.

TOTALLY NORMAL. 😏

*nods*

Yup.

"Suitable tango partner"

Uh-huh.

Artem. Artem! Stop lying to yourself!!

And then there's THIS:

LMAO @ Artem wishing for a weapon to fight off anyone else who might try to take her away from him.

"Everyone will know"

*sucks in breath*

Possessive!Artem is a really really hawt Artem.

Just sayin'

🥵🤤🥴❤️‍🔥🫠😍

AND they mention his adam's apple! Okay, this might not be a turn-on for other people. But it is to me.

I can point at obvious times in my life where I've decided that a certain action/attribute is attraction or sexy. But not the adam's apple. I have no explanation for why I find it mesmerizing!

But bless the writer who decided to mention that specific anatomy in this story! Shout out to you for adding to my swoon! 🫡

End of Part 1 - Check the reblogs for Part 2

[zoe-oneesama]

I'm interested in the Lila exposed au about your akumasona. What's that?

For those who don’t know my OC (self insert) akumasona Zoe Rapporte (The Enchanted Florist), but her family owns a flower shop that is pretty successful - think “This florist does the arrangements at the Grand Paris and for High Profile Events” - so she’s mildly acquainted with Adrien from some of those events. Maybe not friends, but like when you frequent a coffee shop so much that you learn all the staff’s name and they all remember you.

So Lila is not above dropping lots of money to sell her lies (hello Gabriel Collection Fox Necklace) and one of her lies to her mother is that Adrien is her boyfriend. And what boyfriend doesn’t send his lovely girlfriend flowers, especially one as well off as Adrien Agreste? And really, as long as his name is on the card when her mother accepts them at the door, that’s all that matters, right?

So Zoe takes note that once a week this prissy girl with a bizarre hairstyle comes in to place a rather pricey bouquet order under Adrien’s name and has it delivered to the same address that’s on the credit card bill - doesn’t take a genius to figure out this delusional weirdo is pretending a celebrity is sending her flowers weekly. It’s a little strange because Zoe could’ve sworn she saw on TV that this chick had done photo shoots with Adrien before and based on his Instagram she was his classmate, so it’s kinda concerning that she’s going this far to burrow her way into his life. Still, she’s dropping quite a bit of coin and it’s really none of Zoe’s business, yeah?

But then imagine there’s a class event - maybe a dance, maybe a teacher’s appreciation week, maybe an alumni reunion - that needs our favorite class representative and her deputy to order a large amount of flowers. And Adrien, ever desperate to do his part, takes it upon himself to help with the budget. And maybe Nino decides to come for no particular reason lol.

So the four walk into the Rapporte Flower Shop and Adrien is so excited to introduce his friends to one of the familiar faces from his VIP world. And he’s just so exuberant as he brags about his friends and is so wholesome and different from the put together boy Zoe would briefly meet at those stuffy events that this surge of sisterly affection makes her completely forget her usual “none of my business” attitude. She’s got to let him know what it going on behind his back, especially if there’s a chance that he has no idea what kind of girl “Mlle. Rossi at the fifth story walk up” was.

And who knows? Maybe this was a misunderstanding, a weird arrangement Adrien had with his secret girlfriend to make sure she gets exactly the type of bouquet she wants? Zoe recons she’s had stranger requests. Welp, no better way to clear the air than to just ask.

“Hey Adrien, you know there’s this weird girl that comes in once a week and has flowers delivered to herself under your name?”

Adrien paused in his rant about Nino’s music mixing skills (having already left Alya puffing her chest in pride and Marinette a red puddle of embarrassed goo) to stare blankly at Zoe. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh yeah.” Zoe leaned into her palm, looking way too relaxed considering what she’d just dropped on him. “For, like, the two months at least. Always has us address her card ‘Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder, Ma Belle, from Your Loving Boyfriend Adrien Agreste’.”

“What the heck?!” Alya exclaimed from beside Nino who’s jaw was dropped in disbelief. “That’s crazy messed up. Adrien doesn’t even have a girlfriend, what does this psycho think she’s doing?!”

“Right? I don’t know who she thinks she fooling. What kind of boyfriend needs to sign his full name?”

“It is pretty weird.” Adrien said, rubbing his neck in discomfort. “But it’s not the strangest thing a fan has done. It’s not that big a deal, right?”

“Dude.” Nino started, staring at his best friend in mild horror. “Just because you don’t know this girl doesn’t make it ‘no big deal’.”

“Oh no.” Zoe pipes up again. “He knows her.”

“What?!” All of Adrien’s friend’s exclaimed. Even Adrien looked a bit shook by her admission.

Alya zipped over to the counter, leaning dangerously close to Zoe’s remarkably unfazed face. “What do you mean ‘he knows her’?! How do you know that?! This sounds like a creepy fangirl but you’re telling me she’s actually in Adrien’s life?!”

“I should say so. I mean, it was even on TV that she was modeling with Adrien and she’s made a few appearances on his instagram.” Zoe brought out her phone, casually thumbing open Instagram. “I would’ve just ignored it, but if she’s going around pretending she’s dating Adrien then he has the right to know.”

“Modeling with....and you said on his instagram...?”

“Are...” Marinette piped up, voice dripping with trepidation. “Are you talking about Lila?”

“Marinette,” Alya gave her friend a withering look. “Just because you don’t like her doesn’t mean you can just accuse her of-”

Zoe cut her off, flashing her phone screen at the group to present a photo, having found the image she was looking for: a brunette with a straight fringe and her forelocks in twin tails leaning possessively over an uncomfortably smiling Adrien.

“Yes, Mlle. Rossi! I’d recognize that crazy hairstyle anywhere.” She turned the phone back to look at it herself. “Pft, Adrien, what’s with this caption? ‘Lila insisted I take post this picture?’ Yikes, man, learn to say no.”

Alya waved her hands in front of her, eyes scrunched closed in disbelief. “Hold up, hold up, hold up. You have GOT to be getting this twisted. Lila wouldn’t do something that like this, that’s just...wrong!”

“I mean, this is definitely the girl I was talking about.” Zoe said slowly, raising one eyebrow at Alya’s response. “And Rossi is the name on the bill. What exactly am I ‘getting twisted?’“

“Because!..Because Lila just wouldn’t!”

“Yeah!” Nino shouted from behind her, shaking himself out of the stupor this whole situation left him in. “She said she wasn’t into Adrien like that!”

Zoe snorted. “And you believed her?”

“W-well yeah, why would she lie about that...?”

“You guys are so cute. And definitely need to watch more True Crime shows.”

“What-?”

“Sorry Adrien.” Zoe lofted over Alya’s shoulder, cutting off another defensive quip. “I know she was your friend. I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“Ah, no, she’s not really- I mean, I’m not that surprised to be honest.” Adrien offered weakly.

“It sounds right up her alley.” Marinette growled, fingers digging into her crossed arms.

“What...” Nino and Alya turned to their friends, confused and anxious. “What are you talking about? This..this is Lila we’re talking about!”

“The same Lila who got Marinette expelled?” Adrien stated, face grim and tired.

“That was rescinded, it wasn’t her fault-”

“The same Lila who sent everyone in Adrien’s contact list picture of her kissing Adrien?” Marinette ground out, aggravated.

“I mean, that was weird, but I’m sure she didn’t mean-”

“The same Lila who got my bodyguard and Natalie in trouble with my dad?”

“Or maybe the same Lila who stole Adrien’s dad’s book and threw it in the trash?”

“She did WHAT-?!”

“I-I fished it out for you!”

“Wait is that how you knew about Lila-”

“Wow.” Zoe whistled, again cutting the group off. “What a class act. Sounds like a great friend you got there, Adrien.”

“Oh trust me.” Adrien growled, eyes never leaving Marinette who steadfastedly refused to look at him. “After this we’re NOT friends.”

Alya held her head with one hand, staring at the ground. “Wait, wait, this...this can’t be right, Lila isn’t...she wouldn’t do this, she wouldn’t, she’s...cool! And nice! And-! She just can’t!”

Zoe cocked her head toward’s Alya, leveling her with a patient stare. “Well, then what is she doing?” Alya looked up blankly at her, prompting her further. “The truth of the matter is that Lila Rossi comes in once a week, and has been for at least two months, buying flowers to be delivered to her own address (which I know because it matches up to the address on the card with her last name on it), but dictates that the card say it was sent by Adrien. If she’s not faking that Adrien is sending her flowers, what is she doing?”

“I...I don’t...” Alya floundered. They were just supposed to order some flowers, how did the day turn like this?!

“You’re an investigative reporter, right? What’s that old Sherlock Holmes saying? ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth’?”

Alya leaned into Nino, staring out at the shop, searching for something to make some sense. She thought Lila was nice, was her friend, was everyone’s friend! But this stunt with Adrien...what does it even mean...?

Everyone looked towards the employee door as footsteps could be heard approaching. A moment later Tama, Zoe’s younger sister, stepped into the shop, pausing at the door when she realized five pairs of eyes were staring at her. She looked over the customers, taking in Marinette’s slight glower, Adrien’s tight jaw, and Nino and Alya’s devastated posture.

“Soooo, are you here to buy some bouquets?”

[heliads]

hello lisa!! it's been so long since i've requested something from you so i figured i'd indulge myself in your beautiful writing

could i have a tasm!peter x fem!reader inspired by the song radio by lana del rey?

basically the reader's a singer, and she's finally "made it", and she feels like now she's finally worth something now that her songs are playing on the radio

she's never really felt like she's deserved peter's love until now; she'd always viewed him as so much better than her, what with his spider-man duties and fame due to that, and thought that once she became famous she would finally be worthy of him

but now that she's gotten wrapped up in fame, peter's grown distant, and feels like he's lost the "true y/n"

basically just a lot of angst, but if you could figure out how to make it have a happy ending that would be great

love you lisa!! tsym <3

thank you so much!! oh i had fun writing this one lol

masterlist

The room is silent, save for the whir of gears and the click of your pen as you finally shut the cap once more. You consider the completed design in front of you, then nod at last in satisfaction.

“It’s done.”

Beside you, your boyfriend looks up with a start. “You finished? This is it?”

You nod happily. “This is it. My first album cover, finally completed.”

Peter Parker stands up, putting down the mess of metal and wires in his hands so he can peer over your shoulder. “I think that looks fantastic. That means you’re ready to release your stuff, right?”

You swivel your chair around so you can face him. “Exactly. I’ve been singing for a while, but now it’s going to be out there.”

Peter whistles. “That’s my girlfriend, out there. I’ll be buying a dozen or two copies as soon as I can.”

You laugh. “Don’t blow your whole budget on the first album alone, Peter. I’m sure to have a tremendously successful tour in a matter of months.”

Peter pulls you into a hug. “I’ll take out a loan, no worries. I can’t wait to see how the album does.”

You smile into his shoulder. “Neither can I.”

Honestly, this feels like a fantastic step forward. You love singing; making music is the best way you can picture the world around you, all through the frame of song lyrics. Sure, something might hurt you today, but once you put it through a few chords and stanzas, it’s no problem at all. Music makes sense for you, and releasing this album is going to let the world see your life through your own eyes.

Not even they can stop me now

Boy, I be flying overhead

The best part is that you have Peter right by your side throughout all of it. He’s there to count down the seconds until the album goes live online, he happily calls out every incremental change in streams, he tells all his friends and neighbours to go listen to your songs. You couldn’t ask for a better person to hold your hand throughout all of it.

Their heavy words can't bring me down

Boy, I've been raised from the dead

Right now, the two of you are driving in Peter’s car, windows rolled down to best let in the sunshine. You’re both wearing the cheap plastic sunglasses you bought on a prior date in the mall, when you tried on every combination of lens style and frame color until the kiosk owner was sick of you.

The car radio has been on for a while, but you haven’t been entirely paying attention to it. The announcers always talk too much in between songs, and you’re about to switch to another channel when you hear the opening notes to a very familiar song.

All of a sudden, your carefree mood comes to a crashing halt, and your hand flies to the volume controls. “Peter, that’s my song!”

Your boyfriend blinks in surprise. “What?”

You gesture frantically at the car radio. “The channel, they’re playing my song! That’s my new song!”

Peter’s mouth drops open. “No, that’s crazy! That’s one of the most popular radio stations in, like, the entire country. Turn it up!”

You don’t have to be asked twice, but even when the car is practically shaking with the force of the chords, the song still holds true. That’s your song, that’s your music, and everyone’s listening to it. Your mind is fighting whether it wants to burst into wild laughter, sing along at the top of your lungs, or just start screaming in excitement, so you do a little bit of all three.

Peter is just as happy as you, so much so that he has to pull off the road onto a narrow shoulder so he can dance around with you. He unbuckles his seatbelt once he pulls the parking brake, reaching for you as soon as he can.

“That’s you, Y/N! That’s my girlfriend’s music!” He’s practically yelling, and a couple who happen to be walking by the car pause to give the two of you strange looks.

You, however, couldn’t care less about the concerns of some random pedestrians. Your music is on the radio, god damn it! You’re popular. You’re real. Isn’t that everything? You never thought you’d get to a point where you could be worth something, not like this, and it feels utterly fantastic.

For once, looking over at Peter, you feel like you deserve him, really deserve him. He’s a wonderful boy, and he goes out of his way to make sure you feel loved, but sometimes it’s hard to feel like you’re on the same level. He’s Spider-Man, and thanks to his patrols and the constant spread of media attention devoted to figuring out who he is, he’s always had this sort of aura to him that you’ve never been able to match.

No one even knows how hard life was

I don't even think about it now because

I finally found you

Peter is, of course, terrifically humble. He’s never made you feel like you’re less than him, but you feel like that nonetheless. How could you possibly feel equal to him when he’s out saving lives every night and you’re staying in to do calculus homework? Sometimes, you just feel like a pet project, someone whose presence he’ll tolerate until he finds some other superhero just as bright and important as him.

Now my life is sweet like cinnamon

Like a fuckin' dream I'm livin' in

Now, though? Now, there’s no pretending. You’re important, just like him. People know your name, just like they know of Spider-Man. There’s no power dynamic, even if neither of you ever bring it up, because the two of you are finally on the same level. This is exactly what you have always wanted, and it’s finally yours.

Baby, love me 'cause I'm playing on the radio

How do you like me now?

It’s a rush, to be honest. Even after listening parties with Peter, where the two of you can’t stop cheering over all the people talking about your album, there’s still so much to do. Choreographers are messaging you by the dozens, hoping to be the one to design dance numbers for all your future performances. Radio hosts and late night stars want you on their shows.

It’s fantastic, isn’t it, to be wanted like this? You’re thinking about it on the flight back home after a particularly thrilling radio interview. People love you, and everyone wants to hear from you. The stars in your eyes haven’t faded, even in the months since your album first released.

American dreams came true somehow

I swore I'd chase 'em 'til I was dead

The only person who doesn’t seem taken by it, strangely enough, is Peter. You always thought you’d have him in your corner, especially after all the times he brought up your music in a conversation or wanted to talk about your songs on his own accord.

Right now, though, walking home with him after he met you at the airport, you don’t get the same supportive feeling from him as you always did. To be honest, it’s already got you on your guard, even before he starts to say what’s on his chest. You’ve always stuck by him with his Spider-Man stuff, even when the police hated him or when the public loved him. You bandaged his injuries, you helped him design his suit. Shouldn’t he be able to do the same thing with you?

I heard the streets were paved with gold

That's what my father said

You can tell Peter’s been thinking about something for a while, but it’s not until halfway through the walk that he finally starts to switch the conversation towards whatever is going through his mind.

“So, my favorite rockstar, I was just thinking that we haven’t gone on a date in a while. How about we catch a movie this weekend? I’ve heard of a few that check all of our boxes.”

You wince. “That sounds amazing, Peter, but I’m supposed to be meeting with my record label manager to discuss potential deals for future albums. He lives way out of town, so I’m going to be gone all through Saturday and come back late Sunday.”

Peter nods, a slight clench in his jaw the only sign that he isn’t fine with this. “No problem. What about next week? After school, maybe?”

You sigh, trying to picture your already jam-packed calendar in your head. “No dice. I have to head directly to a radio station headquarters after school for another interview.”

Peter’s frown refuses to leave. “The weekend after that? Hell, any time in the next two months?”

You don’t like his tone. “Peter, what’s this about? We knew I’d be busy when the album was released, there’s no need to take it out on me.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I knew you’d be busy, but I thought you’d at least be trying to make time for me.”

You laugh sharply. “Of course I’m trying to make time for you. That’s why we’re walking together now.”

Peter scoffs. “Instead of, what, you getting a limo home? Don’t act like I’m anything but replaceable now that you’ve got the world revolving around you.”

You stop walking, and Peter stops with you. “What is your problem, Peter? I just said that I’m trying to make this work. Sorry if you feel otherwise.”

He folds his arms across his chest. “It’s not just a feeling, Y/N. You’ve been different, ever since that album came out. Do you even care about stuff other than the views or the celebrity shoutouts?”

That stings. “So that’s your problem, that I’m happy my album is doing well? What other way could I possibly respond?”

Peter gestures uselessly with a free hand. “You could still be you, for one thing. I can barely see you around the Louis Vuitton brand deals. I mean, take your latest single. What was that one line, ‘Now I’m in L.A. and it’s paradise?’ You don’t even live in L.A., you just visited it once or twice! There’s the Y/N I fell in love with, and there’s the Y/N that’s jetting across the world for her fame, but I don’t think they’re the same person anymore.”

You draw back from him. “I can’t believe you. I am happy for the first time in a very long time, so happy I don’t even know what to do with myself. When you started getting pleased with yourself because everyone knew who Spider-Man was, I stuck by you, even when it made me feel like nothing. I’m sorry to see that you can’t do the same with me.”

Peter realizes what you’re trying to say, or avoid saying. He takes a careful step forward. “Y/N, I didn’t think–”

You shake your head. “No, you really didn’t.”

You turn away from him and start walking down the street. This time, you’re alone, and this time, Peter doesn’t try to catch up. That’s for the best, isn’t it? Even if he apologizes, he still won’t get it. He won’t know what it’s like to never feel like you’re good enough. Sure, it’s easy for him, he’s important. Why can’t you be important, too? Screw Peter. You can do what you want.

Now my life is sweet like cinnamon

Like a fuckin' dream I'm livin' in

In fact, you pour all your energy into doing exactly what you want. You laugh alongside big-name celebrities on late night talk shows, you charm your way into high society gatherings until people swear they can scarcely remember a time when you weren’t among the red-shoed ranks.

The only problem with all of it, the gold drippings and gemstone party favors, is that none of it feels quite real. At first, it was wonderful, all a dream come true. Everything is perfect here, the lipsticked smiles never end, but you never mean any of it. Every laugh disguises apathy, every best friendship formed hides blank nothingness.

For example, you’re currently seconds away from performing live at one of your biggest concerts yet, and you don’t feel a thing. No excitement, no nerves. You don’t even feel stage fright at the sight of so many people all staring back at you. There’s just an endless cloud of emptiness.

The music starts, and you start to sing, every movement perfect and practiced. You were able to have your choice of choreographers, and you’ve already inspired thousands of dancers to try and imitate your routines. Not a hair is out of place, and your costume is shimmering and gorgeous. Every note comes out polished and pure, and when you finish, you’re surrounded by thunderous applause.

You stand on the stage, looking out at all the people who can’t get enough of you, and you realize that you hate it. When was the last time you felt anything? Even heartbreak would be good, although people only seem to encourage it when they think it could inspire another album. These people would stomp you into the ground if they thought it would get you another chart-topping single, and you would let them do it. Who have you become?

Baby, love me 'cause I'm playing on the radio

How do you like me now? (Oh, sing it to me)

You head home that night, restless and unable to rescue your mind from the same tunneling realization that you don’t want it anymore. You still love your music, the clothes, the opportunities, but you feel like you’re missing something important. Or, perhaps, someone.

You change out of your designer gown and too-tall heels when you get home, wash the perfect makeup from your face. You’re not entirely sure that you recognize the girl in the mirror; she’s just a little too different, too tired, too worn. You swear that your eyes are supposed to be brighter, your hair more full, but the stranger looking back at you still moves when you move, so she must be you after all.

You pull on comfortable clothes, and after taking one last moment to make up your mind, walk over to your window and throw open the sash. It’s relatively easy to climb up the fire escape to the roof, and you sit, legs dangling over the edge. You don’t know that anyone will come. Although Peter once promised that he’d visit whenever he could, that promise was made to a different girl, and it might not hold true with you.

A wind blows across the roofline, and you pull your knees up to your chest to block out the chill. The movement must distract you from approaching noises, because you don’t hear Peter approach until his voice sounds from next to you.

“I didn’t think I’d find you here.”

You lift a shoulder, somehow afraid to look at him lest you dispel the myth that he might still be here for you. “I could say the same thing about you.”

Fabric rustles against metal, and then Peter sits down next to you. He isn’t looking at you yet, just staring up at the sky. “I saw you in that performance earlier today. You seemed miserable.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s what every girl wants to hear whenever they’ve been on live television.”

Peter shakes his head. “No, it’s not like that. You looked beautiful, but you always do. It was your eyes, that’s where I saw it. You don’t want it anymore, do you?”

You close your eyes for a moment. “No, I don’t. I mean, I like it plenty, but it’s not the same.”

Peter nods, as if expecting this. “I don’t think anyone else could tell that you hated it. Then again, they haven’t known you as long as I have.”

You dare to glance at him again, and find that he’s finally looking back at you. “Why did you watch today’s performance? To see if I would despise myself as much as you despise me?”

Peter leans forward slightly. “Same reason I watched every other performance you’ve done. I missed you, and this was the only way I could pretend I was with you again.”

The sudden truth makes you go quiet. Peter continues. “I never hated you, I just missed you. I haven’t felt like I’ve known you in a very long time.”

You look down at your lap. “I don’t think I’ve known myself in a long time, either. I don’t know where I went wrong, but none of it is right anymore.”

Peter reaches out a careful hand to lay it on your shoulder, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “I don’t think it’s all wrong, just that you need to sort out what matters most to you.”

You watch him again. “You. That’s what matters. That’s the one thing that has made the rest of this feel worthless.”

Peter’s lips twitch up in a half smile. “I’d like to believe you quite a bit,” he says, “But how do I know if this is just another performance?”

You’ve told enough picture-perfect lies for him to doubt you now, and you hate it. “There’s no audience listening now except you, and I know you well enough to know that you’ve always had a soft spot for people trying to do their best. I don’t know who I am, Peter, but I know who you are, and I figure if I can find my way to you again, I’ll find myself in a matter of moments.”

Peter chuckles. “That’s a pretty good sentiment. Put that in one of your songs. I’m expecting a sad ballad that ends happily.”

You smile. “Does that mean we’re ending happily?”

Peter leans over to press a kiss to your cheek. “It does. I don’t want to fight anymore, Y/N. I just want you.”

You want him, too. It sounds like a fair deal to you, and you take it.

Baby, love me 'cause I'm playing on the radio

How do you like me now?

marvel tag list: @namoreno, @thatfangirl42,  @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv-blog, @caswinchester2000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie

[alpacaparkaseok]

Can’t Keep My Hands To Myself

pairing/genre: Taehyung x reader, idol!reader x idol!taehyung

premise: When you lock eyes with your soulmate, you’re immediately teleported to them. So, technically it’s not your fault that you ended up in Kim Taehyung’s lap for all to see.

word count: 1.3k

[1/2]

requested by @marianeamine​ - thanks for the fun request! a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post! (also, can we just enjoy Yoongi’s tiny clapping in the background of this gif? lol)

The lights are nearly blinding as you move across the stage, basking in the fan-chants you can hear around the giant venue. You don’t claim to be anything like EXO or BTS...but still, you would be lying if you didn’t get some sort of satisfaction at the considerable amount of fans that made it to MAMA this year.

You watch as one of your group members takes the center as you’d practiced, the other two of you flanking her and pushing hard through the final notes of the song. 

Your little trio, while new to the competitive world of K-pop, had an amazingly successful year. When you were invited to perform not one but two of your hit songs on stage at one of the most prestigious award shows of the year, you were floored.

Now, locking eyes with your other bandmate as all three of you hit the final note - which is nothing short of a miracle, considering how hard you’re breathing right now - you can’t help but smile.

What a year it’s been. 

Together, the three of you sink to the floor, keeping those smiles on your faces until lights fade and the cameras go elsewhere. You were instructed to remain sitting on this portion of the stage for about a minute after the performance, due to the hosts coming out on the opposite end of the room and needing to rearrange this corner. It was deemed too dangerous for you all to get down just yet, but you don’t mind.

Now that you don’t have those blinding lights focused on you, you can actually see out into the crowd. Your heart swells as you spot all of your fans with signs and lightsticks, a few of them still trying to see your group through the darkness. It’s tempting to wave at them, but you refrain, not wanting to draw attention away from the hosts. 

“Dude,” Jiwoo scoots closer to you, Ari leaning over as well to hear what she’s whispering, “Is it just me, or did Yeonjun just get like...1000 times hotter?”

You refrain from laughing, instead craning your neck to get a look. “Where’s TXT?”

Jiwoo gives you subtle directions, not daring to point at him for fear of some fancams picking up on her newfound obsession. That would be a PR disaster. 

“They’re kind of hard to see from this angle,” Ari explains, having already found them. “They’re sitting right behind BTS though.”

Well, you know where BTS is sitting. Everyone, whether they like it or not, is automatically tuned in to where the biggest band in the world is sitting. 

You look over at them, eyes jumping over them to see TXT behind them. You grin. “Yeah, they all look really good.”

“Yeah,” Jiwoo huffs. “But Yeonjun looks sooo good, right?”

Squinting your eyes in an effort to get a better look, you’re a little shocked when certain BTS members sense your stare.

You watch with utter embarrassment as Jimin chuckles at your group, nudging Taehyung and mumbling something to him.

“Er...guys...” you begin, praying that Taehyung won’t look this way. How embarrassing, they probably think that you’re gawking at them not TXT.

You don’t get to finish your sentence as you see Taehyung glancing up, saying something to Jimin as he locks eyes with you.

The darkness from your corner of the stage suddenly becomes absolute, wind whistling in your ears as you gasp for air. The strange sensation doesn’t last long, and soon you’re slamming into something solid and warm.

Peeking one eye open, you’re met with fluffy dark hair, and arms that wrap around your waist to keep you from slipping off. 

Before you’re even able to understand what’s happening, you hear it. People whispering, a few even crying out in distress. Did something bad happen?

Straightening up, you let out a little squeak at you find yourself staring straight into the cocoa-dipped eyes of Kim Taehyung. His lips have parted, making it seem like he was gasping just a moment ago. One of his earrings glints in the light, casting him in a diamond-like glow.

Overall, he doesn’t seem to be faring much better than you, but as you go to move away because you’re on the man’s lap, he instinctively tightens his grip. 

“Let her go, Tae,” Namjoon grounds out from the other end of the seats, and it seems like only then does Taehyung begin to hear the obvious uproar and excitement from fans and idols. He gives you an apologetic smile, loosening his grip. 

You fail to return the smile, too dazed to even register what just happened. Rising to your feet, you suddenly become ultra aware of all the cameras that appear to be pointed in your direction.

“Hyung...” Tae murmurs, noticing the cameras as well. Before anything else can be said, you’re nearly tackled as Jiwoo and Ari come rushing over, eyes wide.

“Are you alright?” Jiwoo pants, looking over every square in of your body as though expecting to find a gaping wound. You give her a shaky nod, still struggling to find your voice. 

“...what...what just happened?” You croak out.

Staff from both Bighit and your own agency rush over, forming a packed circle around your trio and BTS. There’s a collective groan that goes around the building from those who’s view is now obstructed, but you pay them no mind.

“Hello,” one staff member says with a gentle smile that immediately puts you at ease. “You’re probably feeling a little strange, right?” You nod. 

Staff are in the process of speaking to Namjoon and the other members, Jiwoo and Ari joining them. Despite the situation, you can’t help but giggle at the fact that Jiwoo is still attempting to discreetly get a look at Yeonjun.

Taehyung comes to stand across from you, eyes flitting between you and the staff member. 

“We’re going to take you guys backstage, alright?” She asks, and the two of you mutely nod. “Stay in the circle, keep your heads down.”

She goes over to check that the other members are alright to stay at the award show or come backstage. They all want to come, but Namjoon looks around the room and comes to a decision.

“We’ll go back in a little while,” he says, ignoring Jungkook’s pout. “I think it might be best for us to stay and act normal. Maybe it’ll help people calm down.”

You don’t bother telling him that it probably won’t do much, you do appreciate the intention.

“Alright! Let’s go!”

Surrounded by staff and bodyguards, you feel like you’ve been swallowed up. Shuffling forward, you turn to look for Taehyung and are shocked when he sidles up next to you and laces his fingers through yours. He gives you a smile, making sure to keep his head down as instructed.

“Hey,” he mumbles, practically making you melt.

You blink up at him, unconsciously sliding a little closer. “Hey.”

“You did really well up there,” he nods to where the stage must be. 

“T-thank you.”

He grins again at your shyness, giving your hand a little squeeze. “Are you excited?”

You frown. “For what?”

Holding up your intertwined hands, Taehyung chuckles. “For this.”

“Ah,” you take a moment to look at your hands, marveling at how perfect they look together. “Definitely.” Then, getting a bit of courage, you grin. “Actually, could you do me a favor?”

He immediately nods, eyes never leaving your face. “Anything.”

“You need to introduce Yeonjun and Jiwoo.”

Taehyung immediately bursts into laughter, the sound echoing off the walls now that you’re backstage. “Really?”

Before you can respond, the same staff member from before rushes past you with a shocked expression. “What just happened?” You ask the people surrounding you.

An older bodyguard takes his hat off and scratches his head, laughing quietly to himself. “Another pair of soulmates made eye contact.”

“Again?!” Both you and Taehyung asks, caught between shock and amusement. “Who?”

Your answer comes in the form of the door to backstage flying open, a second group of bodyguards and assorted staff rushing toward you. Taehyung pulls you closer to him to keep you from getting trampled. As the sea of staff parts, your jaw drops open and you can’t help but laugh.

Because there’s Jiwoo and Yeonjun, staring at each other with reddened cheeks and sheepish grins.

“Well,” Taehyung whispers down to you. “That was easy.”

masterlist || pt. 2

[basicmyherowhore]

PH! Deku x Reporter! Reader Drabble

Notes: I was on Instagram and saw that video of Nigel Hayes (a Wisconsin basketball player) not realizing how sensitive his mic was and it made me think of this😭 I don’t usually write drabbles, this is my first ever, sorry it’s shit💀 I’m not adding keep reading bc this is short lol

Press conferences are one of the hero things that Izuku looks forward to the least. He loves being a hero, he loves helping people. He does not love having to sit in front of hundreds of people and speak to them directly. The press usually finds ways to present Izuku in a light he doesn’t like and often compares him to his mentor All Might. Sometimes it’s good but more often it’s bad.

However, alongside him are his friends. The other heros he trained with for years to get where he is now. They’ll always have his back and that’s an immeasurable comfort. To his right sits Shoto and to his left is Ochaco, with them at his sides he feels no fear.

When the press begins firing questions in his direction he answers them with confidence, reminding the public why he’s quickly climbing up the ranks to claim the number one hero title. He smiles, feeling a comfortable calmness sweep over him with the success of this conference so far.

“Pro Hero Deku!” You call from the front row, catching Izuku’s attention, his eyes locking on to you. “As the agency’s of Hero Shoto and Uravity continue to collaborate with you on this investigation, do you see the need for other agencies to intervene?”

He’s stunned for a moment as his eyes begin to register the sight of you. You’re…unlike anyone he’s ever seen before. He finds himself tongue tied and searching for what to say back. Without having an answer in mind he looks over to his right, leaning away from the microphone placed in front of him. The half and half man sitting next to him looks over at his comrade in concern. Before he can ask what’s wrong, Izuku opens his mouth.

“Gosh, she’s beautiful.” He says mindlessly, before leaning back towards the mic and turning his gaze back to you, only to find you looking a bit flustered and the people around you laughing. Izuku’s mind turns in confusion, until Ochaco taps him on the arm, mouthing the words ‘Your Mic Caught that.’ Izuku looks back at you in disbelief. “You heard that?”

When you nod your head yes with a bashful smile on your face Izuku can feel the heat blooming in his cheeks. He covers his face with his large hands to both hide his blush and his embarrassment at being caught. The crowd begins to whistle and cheer until Shoto quiets them down to continue the conference. He answers your question instead of Izuku, as Izuku sits in an almost frozen manner for almost the rest of the conference.

Watching the last few reporters trickle out of the room, Izuku can feel the last on his embarrassment leaving his body. With a final sigh, he begins to pack his things, not noticing that there was someone waiting for him.

“Hero Deku?” A familiar voice catches him by surprise, causing him to whip his head around quickly. He’s greeted with the sight of you, the reporter he embarrassed himself in front of earlier.

“It’s you.” He acknowledges softly, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

“Yeah, it’s me. I just wanted to say thank you for the compliment. It uh means a lot.” You smile at him, heat gracing your cheeks as well.

“Anything for a beautiful lady.” Mindlessly, he lets himself slip again, once again shocked by his own words. Your smile widens at the sight of the hero whose become beside himself, a laugh slips past your lips causing him to focus back on you. “Sorry, two different personalities are clashing here.”

“No no, it’s okay.” Izuku watches as you rip a page out of your note pad, folding it into a small square. “I like it.” You step towards him, placing the folded up square into his palm. “Let me know if you ever need someone to write an article about the hero who always speaks his mind.”

[lochnessies]

what even were the leaks lmao i avoided them like the plague

here you go lol they’re bad

>The game has a pre-timeskip and post-timeskip era much like the original game, but the timeskip itself is shorter than OG FE3H, being a 3 year skip instead of 5.

>The new purple haired OC’s name is Bell, and the white haired deity that is tied to him is Caponia. Caponia is the ‘light’ that the Agarthans worshiped before Sothis arrived on Fodlan, and all records of her existence were wiped by the Church shortly after the War of Heroes ended.

>Bell is the son of a homunculus named Seir, a failed experiment by Thales in order to resurrect Caponia, but inadvertently finds success when Bell is born with Caponia’s soul attached to his body similar to Byleth and Sothis.

>His backstory is intentionally akin to Byleth’s to directly paint them as foils to one another. He can’t time travel like Byleth can, but Bell can prevent the activation of Divine Pulse, and is aware of when Byleth reverses and resumes time, and the actions taken by Byleth previously if he cannot stop it.

>The game’s roster is going to be a big one. In total, there will be 52 playable characters.

>Every character that was playable in Three Houses, including DLC, will be playable in Three Hope’s base roster. This includes the Three Houses, Church, Ashen Wolves, Byleth, Jeritza, and Anna.

>The only NPCs from OG FE3H that are playable are Jeralt, Randolph, Rodrigue, Judith, Nader, Rhea, and Monica.

>Three Hopes will introduce new characters that will expand the lore of the world. Outside of Bell, brand new characters hailing from Albenia, Morfis, Sreng, and Yamato (Japan stand-in) will appear as well. The only details I know of them are that they will introduce four classes not seen in OG FE3H that all relate to their home countries.

>The classes in question are Griffon Rider (in-line with Albenia having rare fauna), Witch (Morfis deals heavily in magic and is called the city of illusions), Berserker (Sreng constantly and relentlessly attacks the Gautier border), and Samurai (should be obvious, and is a separate class from Myrmidon unlike in Fates Birthright).

>Don’t expect the same special treatment for Cyril, Shamir, Petra, Dedue, and Balthus, unfortunately.

>Witch and Berseker in this game are not gender exclusive classes, and this rule applies across the board as there will be no gender exclusive classes in Three Hopes, but some classes' names may change between genders. For example, any male character that reclasses to ‘Witch’ will be a ‘Wizard’.

>Male Byleth is playable, but marketing for the game will primarily be using Female Byleth.

>Divine Pulse will return as a mechanic, as will adjutants and battalions, but are all retooled to fit the Warriors style of gameplay.

>The monastery returns with a more expanded map to allow for more activities that were scrapped for OG FE3H. The vendors will also sell more types of food, and there will be new meals added that were cut from FE3H.

>Also new to Three Hopes is the camp. Whenever you set out on certain in-game missions, the overworld switches to a camp that functionally is similar to the monastery, but has new bells and whistles that set it apart. You can see a glimpse of this in some of the promotional material for the pre-orders for the special edition.

>You can customize Byleth’s room in both the monastery and in the camp.

>Tea time is still in the game.

>Broken armour outfits will return in Three Hopes, hence why the Australian Classification Board noted it has mild nudity. (https://www.classification.gov.au/titles/fire-emblem-warriors-three-hopes)

>Supports also return, with Byleth getting supports with pretty much every playable character (as usual). The Lords get supports with one another, only Byleth can only do S supports at the end of the game like in OG FE3H, and no character loses any supports they previously had, to my knowledge.

>Everything is fully voiced again, just as OG FE3H was.

>Performance Mode from the first Warriors game will return, largely as a response to complaints about Age of Calamity’s performance.

>Semi-related, a ‘Echoes’ remake of FE 6+7 is releasing at the end of the year, and a new FE game is releasing in the second half of 2023. “The Flames of Elibe” is a tentative, but not final name I heard for the former game.

[nishinoya-can-rolling-thunder-me]

Guess Monster

Tendō Satori x Reader

Summary: you catch a certain guess blocker’s eye at the youth training camp that you were invited to help manage

Still getting in the swing of writing for Haikyuu lol

Masterlist

The sound of balls bouncing and zipping by had just become a sound that made up the usual ambiance that echoed through your ears and into your brain. Watching those balls slam down to the ground and rise to the ceiling was also such a sight that had become so normal to your bored gaze that stared on in your position to the side of the small gymnasium as you watched the first years selected for the youth camp continue their warm up besides the two coaches. Though one thing that you couldn’t get ahold of was the antsy red head beside you that stared on with such an intensity that it made a shiver travel through your body. It made every single hair of yours stand on end. Though also embarrassment also took hold as he only did just that. Stood by. You almost had to physically restrain yourself from facepalming at just the thought of knowing that Hinata really and truly did sneak into the youth camp held for these few selected first years to be trained and guided in the gym located on the vast grounds of Shiratorizawa. Not only that, but to be told that he would only merely be a ball boy and nothing else. He would be the one to help wash the jerseys and set them to dry, fix water bottles, and chase after any ball that tried to escape. Though now he helped you keep track of the score of the game between the trainees and Shiratorizawa’s own boy’s volleyball group.

You were merely only a manager of Karasuno’s team that was asked to come on to help take notes of each individual player and keep track of their progress, very much like Kiyoko had taught you to once the two of you had found the groove of being the boy’s volleyball managers and was now teaching Yachi. You were the unlucky one to be offered up to do such a task.

“Hinata...can you stop being weird?” You whispered out sharply to Hinata. Your sharp words only seemed to put a even stronger determined look upon his face as a whistle pierced through the air, you letting out a sigh as you reached a hand to flip the flaps of plastic tat had their bold numbers printed upon them, adding another point to Shiratorizawa’s team.

“What? I’m just being a ball boy.” He almost seemed to proudly announce, causing you to almost turn red from the second hand embarrassment that seemed to take over your senses. How cold someone just be....like that? Seemingly so immune to embarrassment or shame? You knew he felt fear by how he worried of Daichi’s lecture or how he explained the feeling of despair once Mr.Takeda had scolded him with his eloquent words, but that was at least normal and expected. Heck, sometimes you could see embarrassment over take him on the court whenever he would make a fool of himself, but off the court it was like he was immune. Though you had to admit, he was forever evolving with his skills and techniques. So maybe that intense stare upon the court was just a part of the process of evolution, though the blaring whistle sliced through your thoughts. The set was over and done with and now both teams were having a cool down to rehydrate and catch their breaths.

“I have to go do something...” Hinata finally mumbled out before rushing off, you only huffing as you leaned against the sign, watching the other ball boys clean up the court and hand out bottles and towels.

“So! You’re a manager at Karasuno, right?” A voice soon piped up, your gaze slowly and lazily moving to land upon the source. The person in question was now lazily leaned against the score board along side you, red hair spiked upwards and of course had a strange....appearance. That appearance was quite hard to forget. Tendō Satori was a force to be wreckoned with when it came to his guess blocking upon the Karasuno vs. Shiratorizawa match and the middle blocker’s appearance was unforgettable since it was a bit different and you would be lying when you said it wasn’t. You’ve also heard the rumors and the whispers about him too from friends that went to school to Shiratorizawa or other friends from different schools who heard things and whatnot, just horrible gossip that you would listen to and indulge in, but never truly believed a word of it.

But knowing his nickname was the ‘Guess Monster’ sent a shiver down your body. The name was just so...intimidating and terrifying.

“Yes I am, I’m a third year at Karasuno.” You spoke, the silence falling between the two of you. You guess he suspected you to say more, speak more, just something. Though once he realized you weren’t going to say more, he continued on with speaking. Judging by how quick he was able to find the words to continue speaking, it seemed like he had much practice with executing one sided conversations.

“Third year? Would have guessed right, then. You are all...mature and respectful...unlike that shrimp who keeps staring everyone down.” He joked as he shrugged his shoulder and shot a glance over to Hinata who seemed to be pep talking one of the other first years that were actually invited to the youth training camp. It was actually kind of amusing to see Hinata try to cheer up such a large, tall, and stronger looking guy. It honestly almost made you laugh. Almost if it weren’t for the conversation at hand.

“And you’re a third year, but honestly I seemed to find you loud and...disruptive.” You hurriedly quipped back. Just hearing him call Hinata a shrimp just shot a bolt of heat through your body, a flare of anger. It was funny whenever Coach would endearingly say it or anyone of the team. Heck, you didn’t even care if Tsukishima said it, it wasn’t out of character for him to just be sarcastic or a little insulting. Hearing someone you barely knew call him that behind his back to you almost in a....demeaning manor just set a scowl upon your face as your stoic glare moved to rest upon his surprised features.

“Look I’m sorry, I was just trying to be funny.” He said with a laugh as he sheepishly scratched the back of his head as he looked down to you. It seemed like now you finally realized his towering, lanky figure as he allowed himself to straighten up for just a second before leaning back upon the score board. “I was just trying to make you laugh, but that really didn’t work....what a fail.” He said with yet another laugh as he looked to the shiny hard wood floor of the gym, watching the youth trainees being corrected and given advice to help strength their weakness or at least try to improve their weak points. “Kind of expected him to be invited to this thing...did he really break in?” Soon piped up his voice again, you only watching on ahead to the first years, lips beginning to move with your response.

“No he wasn’t...but he somehow got the bright idea to crash the training camp and I guess took on the roll of ball boy in order to not ruin his pride.” You muttered out, gaining a laugh from the other as your eyes watched the determined figure that belonged to Hinata dart after the escaping volleyballs, that strange look upon his face as he concentrated. Though the Whistle interrupted your words that were soon to continue, the coaches of Shiratorizawa calling over their volleyball team for a second match, Hinata now running back to his position on the other side of the score board, Tendo giving a little squinted look to the shorter and younger boy before looking back to you. It almost seemed like he was going to say something, but chose to just jog off instead to start another set with the trainees.

“Wow, you talked to that crazy guess blocker?” Hinata asked, standing at attention as he watched the first serve, eyes watching the ball sip back and fourth until the whistle blew. You nodded your head as you flipped the correct number, now looking over and to Hinata.

“Yes I did, wasn’t really much of a conversation though.” You admitted bluntly. Hinata of course gave a dramatic little huff as another sharp whistle sliced through the conversation, instructing you to once more flip the score board. “What did you expect? Him to relay all his darkest secrets to me?” You sarcastically added, but Hinata was already lost in concentration upon the practice match that went on with him.

The day was long and boring to be quite Frank. Your foot were tired from your constant standing beside that stupid little board and walking back and forth to keep an eye on all the players and of course on Hinata so he wouldn’t make an absolute fool of himself. Though the Guess Monster- or really Tendō had caught your eye many times. He seemed to cast his glances to you after a successful block, almost as in he was making sure you saw it. Then those few times he would totally be off with his intuition he would be checking to see that you didn’t, but you always seemed to catch a glance of his movements and game playing. It was the cliche thing that would happen in those cheesy American hallmark movies where those two people always seemed to be catching each other’s eyes and glances, though you did not think much of it all except for it being a big coincidence at the end of the day as you sling your bag upon your shoulders, bidding everyone farewell as you were prepared to walk back home alongside Hinata and Tsukishima.

“Hey! Ms.Karasuno’s Cool Manager!” Came calling out a voice. There, that red haired, atrange boy was jogging out of the gym and towards you, the two first years looking to you confusingly, though only continued walking forward as you waved them to continue, your bored gaze landing on Tendo, hands clutching onto the strange of your bag that slung over one of your shoulders. “I was wondering if I could get your number? We can maybe hang out sometime? Head out to town together?” He said with a hopefully look upon his face as he looked down to you, though he was only met with silence, the sound of your shoe scuffing up against the sidewalk was the only noise to he heard until finally you went digging into your bag, pulling out a pen before grabbing ahold of his arm and scribbling down a sequence of numbers before placing the pen away.

“Text me anytime...Tendo...” you said, a slight flush upon your cheeks as you shyly tucked a strand of hair behind your ears before turning away. “Tsukki! Hinata! Wait up!” You called to the two first years ahead of you, jogging forward to catch up with them.

“What was that for?” Hinata soon asked as he looked over to you, Tsukki in his own world along side the music that played through his headphones.

“Nothing....I just forgot something and he gave it back, just a silly old pen...”

[fayeimara]

Meant To Be Series || One For Every Billion

1. Operation: Meet Shiratorizawa

*Both written and SMAU parts this epsiode*

You hear the familiar sound as you open the door and look inside the gym. The Shiratorizawa campus is definitely impressive but nothing feels more familiar than walking into a strange gym filled with mostly strangers. Back home or a world away, volleyball is the same, perfect sport.

"Y/nnnnnn!"

You're smiling wide before you even lock eyes with your favourite redhead. "Tendou!"

Your greeting is muffled in a bear hug to beat all bear hugs and you can't help but laugh as you wrap your arms around your cousin's best friend.

"I am glad you could make it." Toshi is standing behind Tendou with a small smile and you pull away to give him a hug too.

"Let us introduce you to coach first, and then you can meet the others."

"Sounds good!"

The three of you walk over to the side where a small elderly man is scowling at the players on the court and when Toshi introduces you, you follow what you know of polite customs here and bow at the waist in greeting, "Thank you for having me!"

"I hear you play as a setter for a premier league."

Yeah, Tendou and Toshi weren't lying about his intimidating demeanor, but you're unfazed. You've dealt with some like him and they're good leaders in their own way.

"Yes, sir."

"You're quite short for your age."

You blink. You're pretty sure you're the average height for girls your age. You're definitely on or above average in your league even though you're not as tall as your hitters. Okay, cheeky, it is.

"Yes, sir. I hear that sometimes from opponents before we play. Not so much after a game, however, if at all." Tendou starts chuckling only to muffle it when the coach's sharp gaze locks onto him for a moment before focusing back on the court.

"Is that so." He finally looks over, making eye contact and drawing out the silence for a few quiet seconds. "Well, height isn't critical for a setter, though it's an asset."

"Yes, sir." You have to bite the inside of your cheek so you don't push it. You're aware of his status and tenure, after all. To someone like him, kids your age with a little cheeky boldness and confidence can be surprising and impressive. Too much is disrespectful and you're still a guest here at the end of the day.

He looks back at the team and you do startle a bit when he barks out, "Did I say it was time for a break?!"

Looking over to the court, you finally realize the practice game has all but stopped. You meet several wide eyed, disbelieving stares before they jolt back into motion.

Tendou and Toshi leave you there to rejoin their teammates with a grimace and a nod, respectively. You just smile blandly and take a seat next to their coach.

-x-x-x-

By the time Coach Washijo blows the whistle for the end of their practice, you've got a clipboard on your lap with notes and the begrudging respect of the ornery man beside you. Yes, you know your shit when it comes to volleyball and you didn't hesitate to use your knowledge to impress. You have a feeling he'll be taking a look at the link you wrote down to your national games at some point given the observations you pointed out. Mission: Success.

As the boys are grabbing water and towels and gathering around, Coach locks eyes with you once again to study you as you smile politely back at him, waiting for what he's chewing over. "You can visit again."

And then he stands to address his team before heading over to his office and leave them to clean up.

You look away from his retreating figure and, oh my, that's a lot of eyes on you. Why do athletes look so pretty? You smile wider and stand to introduce yourself, "Hello. I'm L/n, Y/n, Toshi's cousin. Nice to meet you all and thank you for having me here for this practice."

You bow and they start stuttering and speaking over each other while Tendou laughs, knowing you're also teasing a little. They're clearly flustered so it takes the edge of your own nerves and your smile relaxes into something a little easier.

"Wow.. that was.. different. I've never seen anyone interact with Coach like that." You look over to an ash haired boy, oh hello- "I'm Eita Semi. Nice to meet you.”

He sounds a little brusque.. hmm. He's their setter and knowing Toshi and Tendou...

"Semi-san, your sets... they really show your love for volleyball."

His mouth drops, hopefully in surprise, but you also hope you didn't say anything too forward? You know it's pretty different here and some things like feelings aren't used as carelessly in conversation but.. he's blushing. Oh no.

You try to correct, just in case, "I mean, I hope it's not presumptuous or inappropriate to say! I'm lucky to call myself a setter too, so from one to another, I just wanted to say I can see how much fun you have and it's inspiring!"

Okay, now Tendou is literally dying of laughter, bent over grabbing his stomach but you can see his face and yeah, he literally looks like the emoji that's crying with laughter. And- what?! Even Toshi is smiling a little, he knows that under your calm and playful exterior there's an impulsive, reckless storm.

Semi raises his hand up to the back of his head and you swear he's full on blushing. Okay, yeah, no, you're good. It might sound cruel but when you see people more embarrassed or flustered than you, usually, you find your own equilibrium steadies in response.

"That's- uh- thanks! I hear you're incredible. I mean, as a setter. I- Thanks."

The rest of the team has been looking on and slowly amusement and excitement is like a wave that slides across their features. One of his teammates hits Semi across the back, knocking him forward a bit, while teasing him about compliments from a pretty girl. But you politely pretend not to hear and focus on some of the other members as they start asking you about yourself and answering your return questions about each of them.

I think we can call Operation: Meet Shiratorizawa a success, you think, happily satisfied with the people your dear cousin has to call his teammates and friends.

Prev | Next

Masterlist

Behind The Scenes!

-Toshi is not directly related to Y/n but they might as well be brother and sister for how close they are

-He’s actually her (bear with me, please) dad’s brother’s sister-in-law’s son : Her uncle’s wife is an Ushijima - so her aunt by marriage is sister to Toshi’s mom.. I’m sorry, am I making any sense?

-Their mutual cousins will appear in the story, you’ve already seen their profiles in Family Matters: Kazuya, Akira, and Akari

-Tendou has known Y/n as long as he’s known Toshi and treats her like a cross between best friend and older brother, which means he’s sometimes mean, always teasing, and he will smack, cut, bury a bitch if they hurt her

A/N: Two things.. 1) I absolutely love Ushijima, I find he's seriously underrated. Although I guess I’m guilty here too because he’s Y/n’s family instead of a love interest 😔 If anyone ever wants to see a Toshi fic, let me know, I’ll do my best to work on his characterization 2) CHARACTERIZATION... guys, I’ve wondered this with all the HQ characters I’ve incorporated so far, but.. I don’t know if I’m hitting anywhere close to what they might actually be like in the scenarios I put them in?? So I apologize in advance, and profusely, for all the HQ characters that turn out not quite.. the way they should lol. The writing kinda sorta maybe gets away from me all the time 😅

I lied, there's a third.. I know I've made several posts on days that I've posted so far, and while I do hope to be consistent with a steady couple posts a week (particularly concerning this fic, or rather, not including other fics and stuff I might decide to post as I get more comfortable here), I may not always be able to deliver the same amount of content as I a) am still slowly getting a handle on the social media aspect and how to smoothly deliver it; and b) catch up to where I'm at in the story. So I just want you all to know, I really appreciate your patience with me <3

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 6503 ⚬ warnings: degradation, drinking ⚬ genres: this is just smut. filthy smut. featuring a lot of dirty talk from soonyoung and a hint of a secret au!

 ✧✎ synopsis: the tension between you and a mystifying stranger at the club only thickens each time you meet. he seems like a risk you’re willing to take.

✧✎ a/n: GOD. i have not written straight up smut in two years! i mean, there is a little bit of a background plot, i hope it’s all enjoyable hehe. also, the “secret au” is pretty easy to guess lol, but i suppose it could be a couple of things!

The first time you see him, you’re surrounded by your friends, packaged into a small space that grants you just enough room to sway your body and bring a pink-coloured drink to your lips. He’s across the room, leaning back on a white sofa. Impassively, he overlooks the crowd, until his entourage returns from the shadows to occupy the hard cushions. One of them leans into his ear and whispers something. You force yourself to swallow more of the sweet syrup from your glass, wondering what was said that makes him smirk.

A hand touches your bare shoulder, to which you turn around and grin rather intoxicatedly at your friend. She’s equally inebriated, and as the music reverberates toward the centre of the floor, you wrap an arm around her waist to pull her in close and move with the beat. You take another sip from the glass before hoisting it high in the air, hips undulating, feeling the heat and the dizziness and her hot breath hitting your ear as she mouths along to the lyrics.

Eventually, you two part, and your turn yourself back around almost immediately. As much as you want to believe it’s not because of the stranger, that seems to be the only plausible explanation, and it only burns that much deeper when you realize he’s staring at you. One arm stretches around the back of the sofa, his other hand loosely holding an amber shot glass at his knee. For a moment you stop moving to return his gaze. The stranger isn’t coy. He evidently scans your body, starting at your laced stilettos, venturing up the black fabric hugging your waist, and landing at the haze in your eyes.

You feel warm, but it’s not the muggy air, the crowded club, or even the violet lights.

However, you’re soon met with the repercussions of the dance floor as an unfamiliar body slams into yours, jostling you forward. You grimace as alcohol sloshes over your glass, prompting you to quickly escape toward a less populated pocket of space. The stranger’s glance follows you, yet his mood has shifted. Instead, he chuckles and shakes his head while bringing the shot glass to his lips, downing the golden liquid in a short swig. Your heart thunders upon watching him gently elbow his friend, where he utters something into his ear that preludes their amused, somewhat snide expressions.

It’s downright embarrassing. You can only deduce they’re enjoying your accident with the drink, even when the same predicament had probably just happened to someone else at the opposite end of the room. The stranger’s gaze seems to be searching out a different body, though you aren’t certain, rather you weave your way through the tables to find the washroom and rinse the alcohol from your hand. Admittedly, you feel disappointed to lose the stranger’s attraction. You can’t remember the last time you experienced a successful hook-up where you weren’t exaggerating your lacklustre pleasure.

Your hopes had simply been too high.

The second time you see him, you’re sucking restlessly at a straw, completely emptying the glass until there’s nothing but crushed ice cubes watering down the last few drops of alcohol. Looking up from the table, you spot him buried in the wave of sluggish bodies, the violet light tingeing his partially unbuttoned dress shirt and his black hair. But it rapidly dawns that he’s not dancing alone, for a girl twirls into his arms, pressing her backside to his front, rubbing herself against him while his hands explore her torso. The light hits a new angle on his throat, illuminating the trail of hickies.

It cuts through you, for the envy is like a blade generously sharpened. Even though you will yourself to look away, it becomes an impossible task, to which you trace their every movement without missing a heartbeat. His hand, clad in a myriad of silver rings, engulfs her breast and squeezes. Her head tilts back onto his shoulder, gasping something that seems to be full of euphoria. His eyes flicker quickly, and as though you’re a rabbit that’s to be nicked by an arrow, you’re caught directly in the crosshairs. You wish there had been more alcohol lining your glass so you could’ve turned further numb.

Enveloped in the stranger’s trance, you watch his hand slide around the column of her neck, how his gaze never falters even when he licks a stripe up her skin and nips at her ear. Folding one leg over the other, you attempt to snuff the venereal warmth that flutters at your abdomen, hating that you’re imaging what each sensation would feel like if you were against his body rather than her. His eyes are black, poisonous, and yet you contain so little care that he might be a menace, not when he grinds his hips against the dip of her spine while she hides her face in his neck, already suckling another bruise.

You have no idea what she’s feeling, or why he can’t take his eyes off you. It’s a bit unabashed and perhaps from a place of unsatiated neediness, but you’d really love for him to fuck you.

Maybe your third encounter will be the charm.

“Drink or dare?”

“Dare.”

For the past two rounds, you had purely subjected your body to the potent taste of sour, cold lime and gin mixed with tonic. Not desiring to ram your consciousness further into the ground, you finally chose dare, which uproots some whistles and snickers from around the table. Your friend bites her lip, straining her neck while her eyes cherry pick through the club-goers. Despite the alcohol exchanging your blood for liquid fire, there’s a nervousness in your tummy, and you can’t help fiddling with the hem of your black dress upon waiting for her sinister verdict.

“Alright,” she says, almost yelling over the thunderous bass, “I dare you to ask that guy what his biggest secret is!”

You follow her pointed finger, and your heart seems to immediately shrivel. He’s standing by the white sofa, invested in a conversation with another man who’s holding a martini glass, filled with a drink that’s an electric shade of blue. He offers the drink toward him, but the stranger denies, aggressively pushing away the glass. You sense a scuffle is going to break out between the two men, until someone else who always seems to accompany the stranger steps in, diminishing the conflict.

“Well?” She calls out to you, quirking an eyebrow. “You going or not?”

“I’m going!”

You slide off the stool and pull down your dress. As you shift your way through the crowd, you attempt to rally some confidence, rehearsing the different approaches you could take upon introducing yourself. Yet, there’s a gigantic roadblock. How are you going to persuade him to reveal his biggest secret? From what you already gleaned, he appears unforthcoming, but awfully magnetic.

By the time you’re tapping his shoulder, your confidence disintegrates like a dried flower petal and every nonchalant line you practiced in a spasm floats out your head.

His eyes are much darker in proximity, the colour of sable, and he smells like a royal cologne you can’t afford. He waits for you to speak first, almost as though he knows how nervous you are, wanting to revel in the trembling notes of your voice.

“I-I’m supposed— I’m, uh… How are you?” It’s painful, but you manage to choke it out.

With his hands casually buried in his pockets, his shoulders relaxed, he shrugs.

“I’m fine, honey. And yourself?”

Your blood surges, for you can feel it dragging through your veins, and a heat unlike any other draws a glimmering film to your palms. Due to the pounding music, you both have to raise your voices.

“I’m –uh– good? Yeah, I’m good!” Somehow, your lexicon could exist on the point of a needle.

The stranger chuckles. He’s enjoying your flustered nature far too much.

Quickly, you spiel out another question: “what’s your name?”

However, he doesn’t catch it. Instead, he taps his ear and leans in.

“What’s your name?” Your entire chest beats wildly upon repeating the question. The black fibres of his hair smell like passionfruit, but there’s a distant scent, and you think it’s charcoal.

He pulls back and smiles. “Soonyoung.” His name simmers in the thick air for a moment.

Your skin intensely prickles as his gaze then traces the length of your body, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, plump and pink as he asks, “what about you?”

Soonyoung lowers his head again, to which your lips nearly touch his ear upon replying with your name. Once more, he smiles contentedly, while you believe that the scent in his hair has to be charcoal, or maybe even gunpowder. You think about the man with the electric blue drink, how he must’ve sunk into the shadows after Soonyoung’s friend intervened. The dare is still in the back of your mind, even when you inquire on a different topic.

“Why do you look at me all the time?”

There’s something about the darkness in his eyes that keeps you allured, even when you sense it’s better to reject the dare all together and brace through another gulp of gin and tonic.

“Hm. That’s not what you came here to say now is it, honey?”

His response unsteadies you. As Soonyoung counters your question with another question, a small curl develops at the corners of his mouth, as though he knows something you don’t. From his backside, another companion of his abruptly slides by, his hand settling on Soonyoung’s shoulder while he whispers into his ear. The man disappears immediately afterward, like he was nothing but mist.

The strangeness of it all leads you to fumble.

“Well… I-I was dared to come over here. I have to ask what your biggest secret is…”

It’s rather embarrassing to admit. You’d shoot a glare toward your friends if you weren’t so enraptured by Soonyoung’s unfaltering eyes.

“My biggest secret?” He drags a hand slowly through his hair while he bites his lip, thinking. You presume the gold watch on his wrist must cost more than your rent.

“I think I have a good one.” The manner in which Soonyoung’s tone had deepened piques your curiosity, though his soft smirk suggests you should consider if you truly want to know the answer.

Not willing to capitulate when you’ve succeeded this far, you dare grin at him, ensuring that you’re heard overtop the club music when you invite, “tell me.”

The sweltering of the amethyst lights and the concentrated gin coursing beneath your flesh does nothing to mitigate how hot you feel. When Soonyoung steps in close, his cologne seems to envelope you in an unbreakable spell, and your fingernails dig into the flexible, tight fabric of your dress when his lips brush your ear’s cusp. His voice laps like velvet at your very core.

“I think about fucking you, calling you my pretty little slut as I shove your face in my pillow and put my cock so deep inside you that you’re screaming. Every time I have a girl in my bed, I imagine it’s you, begging me to give it to you harder, begging me for my cum, and I make you take it all, just so I can watch how it drips out of you, honey. ”

Then, Soonyoung is leaning away with an expression that’s wholly complacent, meanwhile your universe is splitting itself apart beneath the flame of his words, a sensation much too slick now dampening the lace between your thighs. You can’t help but wet your dry lips.

“Is that a big enough secret for you, huh?” He purrs, a purple glint flashing in his eyes.

Nothing pieces together in your head. There is not one sentence bothering to make itself apparent, let alone any margin of thought that was relatively pure. Engulfed in the midst of unintelligible music and sanity that endlessly dwindles, you decide the only sensible reply is to kiss Soonyoung. This is just an opportunity you can’t lose. Pressing your chest to his, one hand gripping his shoulder, you at long last acquaint yourself with his candied taste and the softness of his pink mouth.

Soonyoung grins upon the pressure, the gin and tonic that coats your unhesitant tongue, how you mewl so helplessly when he digs his fingers into your hips like they were meant to be imprinted with bruises. Winding your arms around the boy’s neck, you fall into him in complete vulnerability, pull him down closer while he licks into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he chuckles breathily, his hands venturing lower to squeeze your ass, “bet you’d let me bend you right over on this couch, wouldn’t you, honey?”

Sliding your fingers through the feathery, black hair at his nape, you push your lips to his once more, nipping at his bottom lip that shimmers with your own saliva. Honestly, Soonyoung isn’t far from the truth. The last time you experienced such a sharp, needy pang at the apex of your thighs is thrust back too far in your memory. His hands reach down over your ass to the dress’ hem, where he hikes up the tight material slightly, his fingertips suddenly stroking you through your underwear.

“Please, Soonyoung,” his name feels so right as it escapes your throat, “I need you.”

“Yeah?” His firm grip plants back on your hips, and he catches your stare, deep and lustful. “You’d let me take you home, baby? Are you sure you want this?”

Immediately, you nod your head, arms fastening around his neck. “You can take me anywhere.”

Maybe it’s selfish, but you don’t once consider your friends crowded at the table across the club, nor would you care if they witnessed Soonyoung’s hand slipping beneath your dress to brush your clothed folds, not when a sensation felt that appeasing. He smirks, then briefly turns around, tapping a member of his entourage on the shoulder to exchange another whisper. The only thing you register is your burning excitement when Soonyoung tilts his head in the direction of the backdoor exit.

“C’mon,” he takes your hand, “my place isn’t a far walk.”

Soonyoung seems to live in the esteemed, Grand Plaza that’s no further than a street down from the club. It’s surrounded by the flashy nightlife, and as he pulls you into the foyer, completely marbled and elegant, you infer that he must be paying bigtime in order to maintain an apartment amidst the city’s pumping heart. The second you reach the elevator, he’s already pinned you against the cold metal, his kisses full of aggression and clever tongue that you pathetically whine for.

His palm sneaks up your dress, cupping at your pussy aching for any degree of attention. You grind into his hand and Soonyoung delights at your arousal. In fact, as the elevator nears the appropriate floor, a desire to touch every crevice of your body consumes him. Before you can take in another breath, the sweet pressure deserts your core, his fingers now pulling aside the plunging v of your dress so that he can free your breast, to which he immediately licks and suckles over the soft skin. A small ding resonates from the elevator, though he spends an extra moment lapping at your nipple.

You step away to avoid an embarrassing blunder with the doors and hastily readjust your dress. Once Soonyoung confirms that the corridor is clear, it’s a blitz to his room, his key card shoved carelessly into the slot before he’s dragging you inside. The sight of his apartment admittedly stuns you, particularly the tall, slender windowpanes that reach directly to the floor, the high arch of the ceiling and the diamond chandelier hanging like a celestial object.

Soonyoung touches your waist, pushing your spine to his door. His fingers then graze underneath your dress to the inside of your thigh, where he merely snaps your lace panties against the skin.

“You’re going to be my good little slut for the night, aren’t you?” He asks, his tone dripping much like syrup. You nod without question, and his other hand rests next to your head while he murmurs huskily into your ear, “take your underwear off for me, sweetheart.”

The fabric slides down your legs and drops at your ankles, which you manage to kick away, though you don’t miss the embarrassingly large wet patch that stains the lace. It only amplifies this desperation that’s been blooming inside you, and as Soonyoung slowly drops to his knees, a shaft of moonlight falling across the complete blackness in his eyes, you can’t help the shudder that strings so icily down your back. He begins tucking up the dress until it sits nice and snug over your hips.

Something about the way he gazes at your heat crushes every bit of breath from your lungs. Without warning, Soonyoung nestles his face between your thighs and delivers a long, hard lick, his eyes fluttering open to gauge your contorted expression as his tongue drags against your nerves.

He smirks wolfishly. “You’re so gorgeous, baby. Does your pussy always get this soaked?”

You struggle to articulate when Soonyoung places another lethargic lick with the flat of his tongue, a scoff half-rumbling in his chest while he massages your clit using the slick muscle. Somehow, you find the words, though they sound strangely distant as they echo outside your haze of pleasure.

“N-No, only when I-I think about you.”

Soonyoung’s guttural laugh strikes your core, and with a swift movement, he manages your leg over the back of his shoulder, improving his access to your plentiful wetness. A sharp inhale rushes between your teeth upon the boy sliding his index finger past your slit, until the thick silver ring dissuades him from pushing the digit in any further. He curls it, rubs against your silk to make you moan. Your fingers scratch into the door, not yet sure if you should be rifling them through his locks.

“Yeah? You think about me, baby?” It almost seems like a taunt. “Entertain me then.”

Just as you open your mouth, Soonyoung deviously slips in another finger past your opening, trails of gloss seeping down his hand as he stretches your pulsating warmth.

“I-I imagine this,” even with the boy on his knees and his fingers ticking your sweet spot, it’s still difficult to admit such filth, “I imagine you e-eating me out, n’making me cum.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” He purrs knowingly against your clit, his lips kissing the sensitive bud. “Such a good girl, letting me taste this pretty pussy.”

You hum in agreement, eyes falling shut to bask in the overwhelming sensations and how expertly Soonyoung reads on your slightest twitch or exhale, pinpointing the areas that prominently break you down and render you incoherent. Every so often you feel the cold silver of his rings brush your heat as he continues pumping his fingers, to which Soonyoung notes that your leg always trembles against his shoulder. Smiling, he presses his fingers in further, the rings just touching your inner walls while he swirls his tongue at a slow, thorough pace against your clit, satisfying the ache.

Unable to process the insane pleasure, your spine arches from the door and your fingers latch into the boy’s strong, black roots. You pull up on his scalp, cursing vehemently.

“F-Fuck, Soonyoung! Soso good—nngh—don’t stop, please!”

You almost feel apologetic for his neighbours who must hear these unabashed shouts muffle through his walls each night, though you can’t be bothered to moderate your volume when Soonyoung abuses your g-spot with the deep, consistent massaging of his fingers. He attaches his mouth overtop your clit, his tongue lathering across the bud before he starts flicking it harshly. At that moment, nothing else surges through you but an unprecedented hedonism, and you stuff his face in further to your heat. With your head tossed back against the door, you almost fear how greatly this orgasm builds.

It feels like the pressure situated at your abdomen could burst you open like a water balloon, and the only manner in which you can express the pleasure is to wail helplessly. As Soonyoung’s touch sinks so deliciously against that heavenly spot, his tongue, unrelenting and passionate, working to abuse your swollen bud, your body discovers its incapability to hold out a moment longer. Instead, it crumbles, and with a piercing cry of Soonyoung’s name your arousal gushes onto the boy’s awaiting face.

But he doesn’t wither away or allow the room to stop spinning, rather he delivers a few more vigorous pumps with his fingers and licks over your throbbing bud, all while you feel some of the liquid drip down your inner thigh. Breathing feebly, you tug hard at his scalp in an attempt to make him remove his mouth, for your heat feels raw and swells with oversensitivity.

“Soonyoung, please,” your eyes heavily pull open, “i-it’s hurting too much.”

At last, his fingers retreat from your opening and his mouth allows the cool air to ghost over your flesh. It’s alarming to observe the droplets of your cum that glisten on his face, his lips, so flushed and shiny, yet the boy’s tongue only curls out to collect the arousal.

“Fuck, you’re amazing. Did you know you could squirt, sweetheart?” His smile is cunning. “Or has no one ever treated your pussy that well?”

“I’ve never done it before,” you laugh breathlessly, and your head hits the back of the door as you attempt to process what just happened, “I didn’t know something could feel that good.”

While your fingers brush back his hair, Soonyoung places soft pecks up your inner thigh until he reaches the enflamed skin of your core. He catches your infatuated gaze, ensuring you watch as the very tip of his tongue pushes in shallow past your opening before the muscle circles delicately around your clit. Your hips jerk against his face, to which the immediate reverberations in his chuckle vibrate past your folds. Attentively, Soonyoung kisses the sensitive bud, and then your stomach.

After removing your leg from his shoulder, he rises to his feet, the darkness still dancing in his eyes like a flickering shadow. He feels like a foreboding addiction, one that you can’t give up.

“You’re perhaps the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” He compliments, his hand sliding around to stroke the small of your back, his lips just brushing your ear’s shell. “Even better than I imagined.”

Despite the complete filth laced into his speech, his voice somehow contains a tender cadence when he pulls back slightly to murmur against your temple, “now that I know how you taste, I wanna know how you feel, honey. How tight that little pussy is when it’s squeezing around my cock.”

A lightheaded blur emerges from your high, now subsiding, less electric. At the mere thought of Soonyoung pounding you remorselessly into the pillows, your knees begin to wobble and that yearning ache rebuilds itself at your abdomen. To steady yourself, you grip his shoulder, though when you look down, you’re somewhat astounded at the pool of wetness gathered on his floorboards. If just his tongue and fingers could force you to gush, then you wonder how you’ll stay together on his cock.

The trip to his bedroom is all but graceful, rather it’s your legs wrapped snuggly around his waist while his palms splay and squeeze against your ass, your tongues consistently brushing together as you taste yourself from his plump mouth. You had been expecting Soonyoung to just toss you on his bed like an insignificant ragdoll, but to your gratitude, he lays you down gently, spends his next few minutes licking and suckling at your throat. To be marked by him ignites a small grin on your face.

“I want this off, sweetheart,” he demands, tugging at your dress, “do you need help?”

“Yes please. I-I think, with the zipper.” You grunt, reaching behind you to feel the ridges.

After shifting yourself around, Soonyoung stands at the end of the bed, one hand resting on your shoulder blade while the latter undoes the zipper and reveals your back. The little hairs bristle along your skin as you feel a compassionate kiss against the first bump in your spine. Upon helping you slide the fabric down to your waist, Soonyoung’s mouth continues to drift across your shoulder, his hands sliding up your ribs until each hand palms reverently at your breasts. His teeth then dig into a sensitive patch at your neck, giving more vibrance to the low groan that flutters past your lips.

He whispers silkily, “I can’t wait to be inside you, baby. Hm? My good little slut? So beautiful and needy? I can’t wait to fuck you ‘til you’re nice and full.”

Your dress lands somewhere at the base of the mattress, and once your heels are unbuckled, they thump against the floor next to it. Soonyoung guides you into the exact position he desires, which entails your chest flush with his grey bedsheets, cheek sinking against his pillow while your ass pokes into the air. Behind you, there’s the rustle of his clothes being removed, prompting you to wriggle your hips in anticipation and whine for his touch to continue grazing your skin.

His slides off his belt without any particular haste. Impatience prickles, and you moan for him.

“M’so wet, Soonyoung. Please, I need you to fuck me, c-can’t wait anymore.”

You spare a glance over your shoulder, examining his firm torso, the muscles smooth and lithe, how he begins shoving his pants down over his hips. It’s antagonizing.

“I know, honey,” he soothes, his black eyes glistening, “you’ve been so patient for me.”

At last, the mattress dips to suggest that Soonyoung is taking his place behind you, to which you can hear the lewd sound of his hand passing up and down his cock, leaking and painfully hard. Despite the sensitivity lingering from your last orgasm, your entire core still throbs in such overwhelming arousal, a sweltering urge to be stretched completely open. He leans over you, pecking your temple.

“Terrible timing,” Soonyoung laughs, his fingers circling below your navel, “but you are on the pill, right? I’d love a child one day, just not at this exact moment.”

“I am.” You smile, though you aren’t sure how entirely bad it would be to bear his child, and you can’t tell if it’s the gin and tonic finally bleeding through your rationality or the viscid lust.

“Perfect.” He hums, his hand gripping onto one side of your hip while he presses his engorged head into your slick. 

At an indulgent pace, Soonyoung drags himself through your slippery folds and rubs at your clit, a satisfied, low rumble emanating from his chest upon a sight so impure, especially as your gloss coats his length, sticky and wet. Your chest heaves largely at his teasing, engendering you to grind back against his body in a desperate hope to have him split you open.

It’s to your absolute pleasure that Soonyoung obliges. He begins pressing his cock in past your opening, your jaw falling slack until he’s digging in as far as he can fit, inducing the delicious stretch that ripples throughout your body. You breathe in raggedly and hiss his name between clenched teeth, fingers curling into the bedsheets once he’s grounded himself enough to start thrusting.

“O-Oh ffuck,” Soonyoung slurs, swallowing tautly, “you’re such a tight little bitch, hm? Just begging for me to ruin this pretty fucking pussy. I’ve waited so long for this, baby. You have no idea.”

He clutches your hips and slams you back onto his cock, grinding himself so deep inside you that the edges of your vision speckle with white dots. While it’s a bit tough for you to admit that your last sexual encounter had been months ago, it only seems to enhance how wonderful each sensation is now, how euphoric it is to feel his length rub against your inner heat and tick all those aching spots that your own fingers fail to prod. Soonyoung shifts onto his one knee, and suddenly he’s striking a newfound depth. You can’t help the loud squeal bursting from your mouth as he bruises your hips.

Suddenly, the boy is reaching for your arm. It’s pinned behind your back, his fingers latched around the wrist while his other hand threads against your scalp.

“That’s it, babygirl,” he growls upon shoving your cheek into the pillow, “scream for me, just like that. Let everyone know how much of a slut you are.”

With an unrelenting pace, he snaps into you, and the obscene noises of your heat sucking in his cock echo endlessly around the bedroom. At this point, you’re completely void of shame. As Soonyoung pounds into you, his hand ironclad around your wrist, your desire to cum warps into a critical essentiality. The tears stream hot and abundant down your face, muddling your makeup.

“H-Harder, Soonyoung! Please! Give it to me harder!”

“Yeah?” The sweat gleams on the column of his neck, black hair tousling before his eyes that shine mercilessly. “My pretty little slut wants it harder? You want me to fucking break you, baby?”

You don’t care if your body cracks in half like a ceramic. The way his cock is pressing consistently and roughly against that pliant, sensitive spot, it’s the only sensation you can feel. Even his fingers helping to smother your cheek against the pillow, damp with your tears and drool, is a sting rather infinitesimal compared to the pleasure. A cold breath expands in your lungs, and you take advantage of it to plead with Soonyoung, your voice falling apart at the seams while you beg to cum.

Unable to deny you, he takes it upon himself to fuck you so hard that the bedframe slaps into the wall. Soonyoung has already adapted to that spot which makes you weep, and he bites his lip harshly while abusing it with the head of cock. Your body immediately attempts to twist itself up as the ecstasy splatters like rain, though Soonyoung uses his grip on your arm and hair to keep you in position, instead forcing you to take the stimulation until you’re erratically clenching around him.

“Right there, honey? Does it feel good when my cock hits you right fuckin’ there? Huh?”

“Fuck, Soonyoung!” Your howl pierces the dense air, and he can tell you’re sobbing. “M’cumming!”

He tosses his head back as you convulse around him, the juices dripping down the back of your thighs while your world momentarily fades. You’re clamping against his cock with such warmth and silk that Soonyoung releases only a minute later, his seed thickly coating the inside of your heat, his length throbbing with every hot spurt. His guttural cursing subsides into laboured breaths. You feel his hands leave your wrist and hair, retreating to their favoured hold on your hips where he manages to deliver a few more thrusts, languid enough for him to watch his cum get pumped back inside you.

Spent in every single manner, you possess only a dying wisp of energy. You whimper and tremble at the vacancy when Soonyoung removes his cock, a feeling you never thought could be this horrible. Not soon after, his cum slowly pools from your opening, trailing down the inside of each thigh, to which he slightly stretches your ass in order to see just how much he’s emptied into you.

“I can’t believe you’re this beautiful,” he sounds mesmerized, “fuck, baby. Just look at you, so full of my cum. I’ve waited so fucking long to see you like this.”

Soonyoung then leans forward, pressing a kiss to the base of your spine.

“My good little girl. Perfect, aren’t you? Just for me?”

His soft chuckle is somehow a comforting sound, even when your body collapses against his sheets and there’s nothing you’re able to do but nod in agreement. You’re purely exhausted in the afterglow, too tired to even care that his cum is spilling out of you or that you’ve completely deserted your friends at the club. Soonyoung kisses a trail up your back and stops at your shining temple. You can’t tell if he ever joined you in bed or not, though he did stay with you for a few minutes afterward, rubbing your back, brushing his lips over shoulders, a beaming praise whispered every now and then.

You just know you fell asleep smiling.

By the fragile light of morning, you hear Soonyoung’s voice. It doesn’t seem as though he’s beside you or even sitting atop the bed, more like he’s standing somewhere distant. The dimness to the room helps your eyes adjust, and with a low groan you turn your back to the window, snuggling into one of the boy’s cold pillows. When you peek downward, you notice that a decent-sized blue blanket had been strewn across your waist, which you quickly pull further up your body to hide from the cool air. Through the fuzziness, you spot Soonyoung leaning against the doorframe to his washroom.

He’s partially dressed, wearing his black pants while a towel hangs around the back of his neck. The bathroom mirror is smudged with fog and slipping beads of vapour. It isn’t until you hear his quiet voice for the second time that you realize Soonyoung is speaking with someone over the phone. Your eyes fall shut as you attempt to concentrate on snippets of the conversation.

“Fine, we’ll meet at the abandoned hanger off Lake Avenue… Yeah… Just the handgun… Isn’t that too many though?... No, no, not the stash at East End… If he shows up then it’s fucked… That’s what I’m assuming… Okay, sure… Call me back after noon.”

Then, Soonyoung hangs up his phone and slides it with a sigh into his pants pocket. Your eyes open wide again, and you blink a few times to properly clear the sleepy, clinging remnants. Not wanting to overstay your welcome and become a potential hinderance, you slowly shuffle up in his bed, the blue blanket pooling around your hips.

“Did you sleep well?” Soonyoung inquires, tossing the towel from his neck onto the bed.

Pulling the blanket up to your chin, you nod at him. “Yeah, I did,” your voice has yet to lose its monotone rasp, “who were you talking with?”

“Just a friend.” He replies.

Soonyoung walks toward a desk placed across from the bed, picking up a white dress shirt that he slips into. He leaves the front unbuttoned, though he cuffs up the long, flimsy sleeves.

“Hey, do you think I could take a quick bath or something? I promise I won’t be long.”

As he continues to adjust the sleeves, he shrugs. “Yeah, you want me to start it?”

“It’s fine.” You decline politely.

Though the moment you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and prepare to stand, a doubtful inkling has you rethinking that choice. A resounding soreness thumps at your core, the marrow of your hips, yet you pretend that your muscles feel nothing like gelatine and attempt to take your first steps after such a rigorous night. Soonyoung watches in amusement, for your knees immediately begin wobbling while that deep-rooted ache has you buckling to the carpet.

When you look up, cheeks heated from embarrassment, Soonyoung is standing before you baring a fond smile.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” He inquires again, folding some black hair behind his ear.

“No,” you sigh, “I’m sorry. I need help, please?”

“All you have to do is ask, sweetheart.”

Soonyoung proceeds to bend down, tucking you carefully against his chest while your arms loop in a secure fashion around his neck. Feeling like a moonstruck bride whose being carried off to her honeymoon, you can’t evade the tiny smile that flits from each corner of your mouth, and it sticks coyly, even when Soonyoung sets you down on the closed toilet in order to run the bath water. You realize you’re going to need your dress, heels, the lace underwear that’d been deserted by his doorway.

Swallowing nervously, you watch as warm water fills the tub.

“I’m sorry to keep bothering you, but do you think you could grab my clothes? A-And I might need to use your phone, since I never took my purse with me last night. My friends are probably worried.”

He stands from the porcelain edge, a laugh rumbling in his chest, “why are you so apologetic?”

“I don’t know,” you quickly shrink into yourself when Soonyoung’s gaze falls over you, hardly as poisonousness compared to the night before, “I don’t want to be an inconvenience if you’re busy, and you just seem like a busy person.”

“And I also fucked you so hard that you can’t even walk.” He reasons lightheartedly, keeping an eye on the bathtub, “I don’t mind, honey. I’ll get your clothes, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

At least if he’s a poison, it’s a sweet one.

“Don’t worry about your friends either,” Soonyoung comments, at last shutting off the faucet while thin steam curls into the air, “One of my guys told them you’d be safe. They know where you are.”

“Really? Thanks.”

He baffles you; he feels mysterious yet personable. You want to ask him what he does for a living, especially upon recounting his earlier phone call, though you dismiss the question when Soonyoung helps you slide into the tub. The hot water works magnificently to relieve the soreness from your muscles, and though it’s a bit uncomfortable to squeeze back into that tight, black dress and the expensive heels, at least you’re able to walk (as long as you keep a hand flush against the wall).

Thankfully, Soonyoung helps you toward the front door of his apartment. A one-night stand has never felt so painful to leave behind, and you’re overwhelmed with poignancy as you wonder why you had never approached him sooner. He announces that there’s a driver stationed out front the Plaza, in a jet-black car you don’t catch the name of, and that you only have to lend him your address.

“He’ll take you home.” Soonyoung assures you.

Already, you find it astonishingly natural to trust him, engendering your hesitance as you stand in the corridor wishing you could somehow stay.

“What if I want to see you again?” You pipe up, catching his gaze.

Your heart is racing, and warmth dapples each arch of your cheek.

Soonyoung steps forward, cupping your face in his palms, his soft mouth pressing to yours while a fragrant, winter mint cuts sharp to your senses.

“You know where to find me, sweetheart.” He responds casually, and smiles as though he knows you’ll come back to him. “See you around.”

✧✎ a/n: i am handing out water bottles down here guys, it’s okay i got you covered! after not writing serious smut for so long, it just FELT SO? BIZARRE? TO TAMPER WITH IT AGAIN. like i remember the times when i could write smut with a straight face and you’d think i was typing my will or something. anywho. I REALLY HOPE IT SATISFIED SOME OF U!! and WHAT DO U THINK THE SECRET AU IS HEHEHEH

[twinrowcitizennews]

snapshot

Note from the editor:

This is the first letter of this nature that I’ve received from someone who wanted their question published. Other than editing for formatting and grammar, it’s in their own words and their own words alone. Please send an email or ask if you know how to solve their problem-- and quickly. 

I have to warn you, this letter isn’t for those who are put on edge easily. Reader discretion is advised. 

I don’t know if I’ll still be around by the time this is posted, but that doesn’t matter. So long as this reaches whoever might need it. 

I first saw it last October. The 27th, I think. Kind of cliché for this sort of thing to be happening right around Halloween, but truth is stranger than fiction. It was late in the evening, almost nighttime, when I saw this stray dog roaming around in my front yard. I grabbed my dog’s leash and went to get it, thinking I could keep it in my backyard until I could find the owners, but the second I left the front step, it started off towards the bike trail. I sped up to a jog and followed it, hoping not to scare it off any further. 

The bike trail veers away from the neighborhood and through this piece of undeveloped land that separates the suburbs from a nearby farm. The dog was mostly sticking to the path, moving along at a trot, stopping every once in a while to look over its shoulder and wag its tail, like it was waiting for me to catch up before starting off again. After a few minutes of this, I called for it-- tried to whistle, asked it to heel, etc. It came over when I pretended to have a treat in my hand, holding my fist out like there was something inside. When it leaned over to sniff, I clipped a leash on its collar, a simple fabric band without any tags or ID. I’d never seen the dog before, so I got out my phone and took a picture of it to post to the neighborhood Facebook page, asking if anyone knew its owner, before walking it back to my place and letting it out in the fenced back yard. After feeding my own dog, I sat down to check Facebook to see if there was any response. 

No one recognized the dog from the photo. One comment asked me who was standing in the background. 

There hadn’t been anyone else in the woods, as far as I remembered, but I double-checked the photo anyway. In the background, about 20 feet away, it looked like there was a figure-- vague, kind of person-shaped if you squinted-- standing just to the side of the bike path. It was all indistinct and fuzzy. Probably just a smudge on the lens. I responded to the comment before trying to clean off the lens on my shirt, then taking another photo down the hallway to see if the smudge was gone. There didn’t seem to be anything. The rest of the night was relatively normal. 

The next morning, I ended up trying to clear out my camera roll, to save some room for any pictures I might take of my baby cousins in their costumes. I deleted a bunch of screenshots, old photos, and the image of the dog, before going to delete the hallway picture. 

The smudge was still there. Like before, it was around 20 or so feet from where I’d been standing when I took the photo, around the size and height of a person. Unlike before, it was peering around the corner from the door to the bathroom. 

I was freaked out some, to be honest.  I scrubbed the lens down with a Lysol wipe and took another photo down the hallway, trying to prove to myself it was just some sort of shadow. Nothing that would show up in the daylight. And it didn’t-- nothing strange, no smudge, just a block of sunlight from the windows. I didn’t delete the picture from the night before, though. Just in case. 

It was a few more weeks before I took another nighttime photo. My cousins are too young to stay up late, so they’d been out trick-or-treating around 5:00 in the evening, back before it was even dark, so I didn’t really take anything on Halloween. The dog was returned to its owner a few days after, so nothing there, either. 

It was around the middle of November when I ended up catching it again. I was on a nighttime walk and passed the home of this older couple down the road who always put up their outdoor Christmas decorations about a month too early. I wanted to get a picture of the setup-- they had this new animatronic Santa, sitting on a throne and waving to the road. I can promise that no one else was in the yard. I used the flash (on accident, but still), and if someone was there, I would have seen them. When I got home, I sent the picture to a friend of mine for her to make fun of. She messaged back with a few laughing emojis before asking who took the photo.  

(ID: Two texts from my friend reading “lol” and “really who took it”. My response says “wdym?”. She responded with two texts saying “I see you in the background, genius” and “just vibing by the garage”. End ID.)

I checked the photo again. By the house’s garage, a little under 20 feet from where I’d been, was a clearer, more distinct figure. For once, I could make out its face. 

I don’t know who or what it is, or how it got there, but it definitely looked like me. It was even wearing my clothing, had its hair done the same way, everything. Just standing there and smiling for the photo, like someone just out of frame was telling it to say cheese, looking right into the camera. 

I immediately turned all the lights on that I could reach. I almost deleted the photo, staring at it for too long, before closing out of Photos and reopening my camera. I figured this had to be some weird hallucination or something I was making up, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. I aimed the camera down the hall and took a video. Nothing. I checked it, sliding the scrub bar back and forth to inspect each individual frame. All of them were just empty, illuminated hallway. That didn’t shake the feeling, though, so I turned the hall light off and tried again. Nothing showed up on this video, either. I took a photo. 

It was there. Again. It wasn’t peeking out from around anything, just standing in the middle of the hallway, the same distance it had been from the camera in the yard. 

I didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. 

I ended up searching the internet as much as I could for anyone with similar experiences. I saw things about ghosts, things about illusions, things about solid doppelgangers that people saw with their own eyes and not through pictures, but nothing like this. Over the weeks and months that followed, I took investigating into my own hands. 

My fears were quieted some-- some-- when, after the first few nights, I realized that it wasn’t hurting me. It never even moved, staying in the same poses each night. The only change was, no matter where I was, inside or outside, it was always the same distance away.

I started taking pictures almost obsessively. Every day, every night, I tried something new. I tried every condition I could think of to see when and where this thing would show up. It became a part of my routine-- almost a companion. I’d even jokingly wish it goodnight. 

I could put walls between myself and it. At one point, I stood inside my closet and took a picture, only showing racks of coats and clothes. It could be seen through windows, if there was no room for it to appear indoors. I could take pictures out my bedroom window to show it standing right there outside the window on the front walk. It always looked exactly like me, down to the smallest detail, except for the face. It never had any expression other than a smile. No matter where I was, inside or outside, it could be there. I got pictures of it at home, at work, out of town. It never showed up in well-lit photos. Things in the dark with flash were okay, but it would just be a little indistinct. Dimmer lighting, pictures taken at night, all of that was free game. I never got a picture of it in daylight. 

Around February, I sat down and tried to sort all the successful photos into one album to clear up my camera roll. At this point, it was mostly just pictures of the thing, since I was sometimes taking up to dozens a night. I deleted all the failures, saving all the pictures of it into one album. That’s when I noticed.

It was getting closer.

I guess I had ignored it over the first months. It had been too gradual for me to notice, only an inch or two each night, but looking at all the photos in order, it was obvious. Instead of being around 20 feet away, the thing was closer to 15, still just standing and smiling.

I had to tell myself it was coincidence, or something I was imagining, or I think I would’ve done something I’d regret later just then. Now that I knew it could move, I didn’t really think of it as a friend anymore. 

I kept taking pictures throughout the following months. Only at night. It stopped showing up outside my bedroom window-- in retrospect, probably because the ground wasn’t close enough for it anymore. It stopped lurking at the end of the hallway, drawing nearer until it was standing right there in the living room. It started putting its hands against the glass of the kitchen windows. Then it started showing up at the kitchen table. 

I got desperate, some. I tried everything. I burned incense, I tried to talk to it, I bought fucking crystals. I’m an atheist, but I even considered calling a priest or something. All spring, I was constantly scrambling to find some way to get that thing to leave, or at least stop moving. Every night I took more pictures, too many, before scrolling through my photo album with a looming sense of dread. Nothing worked. It kept coming, slowly, always dressed like me and always doing that smile. It got close enough that I could see the whites of its eyes. I almost wish I could say that there was something messed up about it, something that made it obviously inhuman or dead or anything, but there wasn’t. It was just me, just exactly like me, and somehow that was worse. 

I’m sending this in now because it’s really close and I don’t know how to make it go away or if that’s even an option anymore. These past few nights, it’s been right in front of me-- I could reach out and touch it, if it was solid. Hell, I could probably feel its breath, if it had that. I’ve been taking pictures every hour or so, sometimes every couple of minutes.

Last night, around the fifth or sixth picture I took, it wasn’t there. Just gone. I took a few more pictures, and it didn’t matter where I was, it just wasn’t there. I don’t know why I did it, but I turned the camera around to selfie mode and took a shot. 

That thing was standing right behind me.

One of its hands was hovering right over my shoulder, like it was about to touch me. I freaked out and took another picture. It hadn’t moved more than a hair. I turned all the lights on and haven’t slept. 

I’m not sleeping tonight. I’m not turning any of the lights off. It can’t get to me if the lights are on, or I hope so. If anyone knows what to do or what this thing is, please respond. It might already be too late, but I don’t know what this thing will do or who it’ll go for when it’s done with me. I don’t have much advice to give, other than to sleep with the fucking lights on.

[nightswithkookmin]

RE BigHit vs Jikook

@sizzlingpatrolfox

I appreciate you trying to clear things up after my last post on this topic.

I skimmed through your rejoinder and I get where you are coming from. But it seems the point of my response to you flew right over your head too.

You know what gaslighting is great but do you know what whistling is and how the erroneous use of reductios- reductio ad absurdums, the act of reducing another's argument to absurd extremities in order to critique is a form of whistling- exposing a person to online attacks or placing a target on an individual's back?

I really, really don't believe BigHit would HIDE TWO PEOPLE interacting within the group either you know?

I don't think asking two people to tone things down or slow down because they are acting risqué is the same as HIDING those two peole. That's gaslighting and is tacky.

Are you aware that by intentionally misconstruing and misinterpreting my theories in the way that you are doing in your reblogs can subject me to unwarranted negative attention and could potentially lead others who come across your reblogs out of context to attack, disparage and critique me harshly unprovoked?

Cyber Trolls and bullies looking for attention on the bird app often use this tactic to direct hate and abuse towards individuals they've tartget.

They intentionally distort their targets words, twist it around, reduce it to something absurd that they know will inflame passions or take it out of context, and post it online to incite and direct mass hate and violence towards people knowing full well that not everyone who comes across the content they've posted would grasp the context or go out of their way to find the right context of those texts.

These people try and often succeed at weaponizing the mass attention by appealing to the crowds sense of 'cancel culture' as a means to suppress and oppress people they've targeted on the internet.

I have been subjected to this form of online abuse one too many times, I'm used to it by now. But I don't find it funny at all. People will intentionally distort and reduce my theories to extreme absurdities or take certain bits out of context and would post these to Twitter, facebook, their GCs or whatever platforms they have in order to fuel or direct hate towards me either because they don't like me as a person or they don't like the things I say out here.

And their go to code word of attack is always, Taekook_lives because they know how passionate half the fandom is about that person.

You refer to your statement, 'BTS are ashamed of ships' and 'Jikook gets punished whenever they look at eachother' as a literary resource, whatever you mean by that, but you made it seem in your post like it's a theory coming from me or one I had espoused when in fact it's a reductio from you.

Am I the author of those statements? No. Have I said or implied those premise. No. But you have. Those are your assumptions about my posts. The emphasis is yours not mine. It's your interpretation of my work and like you said YOUR opinion on my work.

But ask yourself. Would you be dragged and attacked for it if it gained attention or would I ?

Do you see the problem here?

I get called out for people's interpretations of my posts all the time which to me is ridiculous.

There is nothing wrong with misunderstanding a post, or falling on the fallacy of reductio ad absurdum to argue your points, it can be humorous sometimes but understand it's a fallacy especially if you are appealing to the extremes of the argument like you keep doing in your reposts- please credit those posts appropriately next time you quote me by using disclaimers such as 'the emphasis is mine' where you assume a a meaning out of my posts or use 'the reductio is mine' or 'I assume by this statement you mean' 'correct me if I'm wrong'

Get creative with it. Lol.

Where none of these markers are used I assume without prejudice malice rooted in the fiery pits of hell are intended and I treat it as such.

As for the rest of your argument about Jikook not being a brand. It's fine. Do you.

But I disagree. Jikook is a brand in of themselves within BTS.

I see them as a brand. I see them as being managed by BigHit as a brand.

Also, I believe BigHit is aware they are dating and they are well aware of instances where Jikook gets negative attention too like whenever Christian organizations in South Korea lead online protests against them for promoting homophobia in South Korea because of their 'fan service.'

Side note: People are out here screaming Jikook is fan service every day but apparently South Korean Christians disagree. Lmho.

As for how BigHit manages Jikook in instances where they attract negative attention, I think their approach to JK's Tattoo girl scandal says it all.

The company asked the shop to lay low until it all blew over. I assume this is the protocol. I don't think it's crazy for me or anyone to assume that BigHit does the same with Jikook and ask them to tone things down when they are recieving negative attention or are moving in a way that is likely to attract negative attention.

I don't know how you arrived at 'BigHit is hiding Jikook' when all I said is I felt around a period BigHit had asked Jikook to tone things down- perhaps because they had a strategic partnership in the pipelines but sure go ahead and compare me to Taekook_lives because what better way to punish me for the opinions you don't agree with or shut me up than to get the do before complain gassed up 13 year olds roaming these streets to come for me😊

Or better still set loose the Kookie monsters of tumblr on me- those are a lovely bunch😊

Unfortunately, tactics like these don't work on me honey.

I'm gay and a Christian.

Hell fire doesn't stop me from doing the gay. I don't think retweets from faceless chipmunks will slow me down out here💀

As for my theory on JK and Jikook getting punished when they breach company policies or come close to breaching their glass closet- actions have consequences.

They are employees at the end of the day and as much as they have self autonomy they are required to honor their contracts, terms of service, and obey company rules in order to continue to be employed by the company.

BTS themselves have talked about recieving punishments for defying company rules every now and then. Tae Kook have said they are partners in crime because they often get into trouble with the company and get 'scolded' for it. Jin have said he got into trouble with the company for cutting his hair himself or something. He's said he was pulled into a long meeting with staff over his hair once when he dyed it by himself- cross check, I don't remember accurately what that long meeting was about.

Jimin have said the same thing- getting in trouble for doing certain things that defy company polieces. BTS have said they aren't allowed to do certain things like drunken tweets, drinking or even swearing on VLive.

Do I think they get pulled into long meetings for a word or two when they act risqué yea. Do I think sometimes drastic measures are taken to serve as a warning or deterrent to others yes.

I really don't know why you find it absurd that I assume Jikook get punished for certain actions or that they get regulated by the company.

The look on RM and JM's face in the Be. TS Vlive when JK talked about preferring white to black to me is indication JK was going off script in that moment and was acting defiant as fuck. I don't think it's far fetched for me to assume JK wasn't supposed to say what he said or that he was going against the collective will of the group to uphold the kumbaya image of the group in that instance.

It's equally not far fetched for me to assume JM or RM would ask him as politely as possible to check his attitude next time during a VLive.

Hell, we've seen Hobi advice Jikook to be careful the way they conduct themselves on stage.

We've seen RM glare at, tap, and touch JK and the others several times on stage or during interviews and awards to get them to behave themselves and Tae has explained its because RM wants and tries to get them to act and look 'cool' in front of the cameras most times.

Tae did say he wasn't allowed to record a song with Jimin now didn't he?

Aren't all these a form of regulation? Why then do you think it's absurd for me to believe Jikook are sometimes regulated?

Please listen to BTS's song, A Typical trainee's Christmas to understand in what ways the company controls them. They've said it themselves, not I.

I recommend you watch Rookie King to understand the relationship between the boys and the company. Tae and Jin were not complaining about the company for no damn reason.

Of course they've matured now and their success guarantees them more status and freedom within the company as they are royalty and shareholders of BigHit but they are employees nonetheless.

Listen to RM- the leader of the group talk about that the company disregards their ideas and their creative inputs into their visuals and marketing I presume during the TaeNamKook YouTube live in 2020.

I promise you, just think of Jikook as real and in real life settings and the mystery will go away.

They are two gay men who work together under a company that is queer friendly but set up in homophobic society.

What advice would this company give them?

There you have your answer and if you still believe it's too fantastical to assume then agreed to disagree.

Sign,

GOLDY

[dc41896]

POV

So I’ve been wanting to write something based on the song pov by Ariana Grande and then a certain someone decided to attack my heart strings yet again playing the piano so this is an idea I thought of lol. Also this is a sequel to Between the Lines.

Pairing: Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: None, all fluff! (Well maybe a teensy amount of sad times because of the lyrics)

“There she is,” Chris smiles entering the small make shift studio holding two steaming mugs. Joining your bundled form on the grey loveseat, he hands one to you before sweetly kissing your cheek and moving your legs to stretch across his lap. “So how’s my two-time Grammy nominated superstar doing?”

That’s pretty much all he called you now, besides his usual baby and honey, ever since the list of nominations were announced a couple months ago. Every time the words left his mouth, you found yourself giddily smiling and feeling as if you were in a dream you were bound to wake up from any moment.

Like other artists, winning a Grammy was always one of your ultimate goals and now that there was a possibility you could take home not one but two, you felt immense pride and excitement that your hard work was paying off. This excitement soon turned into stress though with the added preparations you needed to complete as the big day quickly approached. Since you were also performing, you and your team had been busy thinking of what the perfect song choice would be as well as concepts that would match.

So far everything was perfect until your pianist had an unfortunate accident requiring him to have surgery on his wrist. Now you were even more stressed wondering if there were any other people you knew that could fill in.

“A little overwhelmed honestly,” you sigh placing your phone down before noticing what exactly was in your mug. “How did you know I was craving cocoa?”

“Well knowing how stressed you’ve been lately, I figured you’d want some since that’s when you crave it most.”

“Aww thank you baby,” you smile leaning over to wipe his mini chocolate mustache before kissing his lips.

“Still looking for a piano player?”

“Yea but with it coming up so soon, we might just have to do the backup song which isn’t entirely a bad thing, but then I’d have to think of a totally new concept, outfit, then we have to rehearse, I’d have to tell the producers at the show we changed it-,”

“Hey let’s take a break from that okay?,” he speaks trying to calm your rambling and very apparent nerves. Taking your hand, he pulls you closer to sit on his lap guiding your head to fall on his shoulder. “I know things aren’t going how you want, but everything will work out. You’re gonna have an amazing performance that people are gonna talk about for the rest of the year, and no matter what, me, your family, friends, and fans will be so proud of you.” Bringing your hand to his lips, he peppers kisses along your knuckles and fingertips making you smile as you snuggle closer to his neck.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, you know I’m always here.”

Soothingly rubbing circles in your back the way you loved for him to do, you nearly let the vibrations from his humming lull you to sleep before an idea makes you sit up, staring at him now confused.

“Honey? You okay?”

“Yea...yea I just thought of something. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You play piano for me! I mean you know the song you’ve heard it plenty of times, heck you even helped with the melody. Then that way nothing has to get changed!,” you excitedly answer holding onto his shoulders.

“Yea all of that is true, and I’d love to help but are you sure? Y/N that’s your night, I don’t want anybody trying to say I’m somehow tied into your success when that’s not true.”

“Chris, you and I both know people are gonna talk no matter what, and as long as I’m with you sadly someone’s gonna think that and try to spread it everywhere. But I don’t care what anyone says, and you shouldn’t either,” you smile moving your hands to rest on his partially bearded cheeks. “Like you said it’s my night and sharing it with the man I love will make it even more special. Especially if he’ll be right beside me the whole time.”

“Whether I was physically on that stage with you or not, you know I’m always beside you.”

Closing the gap between you, his lips capture yours in a quick yet passionate exchange before he rests his forehead against yours.

“Now if you win, does that mean my name goes on it too? I mean as you said I helped with the melody and I am providing my services,” he states as you both laugh holding onto each other.

“I don’t know about the name inscription, but we can work that out later,” you answer.

———

“Alright five minutes guys!,” Gina announces fluffing your curls one last time. Noticing your infamous lip bite as your knee rapidly bounces, Chris places both hands on your knee quickly kissing your cheek before being swatted away by your best friend giving you a much needed laugh. “Hey relax, no smudging the makeup until after they say cut.”

“Two minutes!,” a voice yells as you try your best to breathe.

“You got this alright? You’re gonna do great!” Giving you a quick hug, she disappears behind the cameras and soon you hear the cheery presenter in your ear as she begins introducing your performance.

“Alright now I’m not trying to be biased, but this next performer is one of my favorites! She’s been killing it this year with the release of her highly anticipated debut album which led to her two Grammy noms tonight. Performing from her personal studio, here’s Y/N.”

The piano softly plays in the background as the camera focuses on you perched on a wooden bar stool. Pulling the sleeves of your pullover sweater over your hands, you take a quick deep breath as your cue to start approaches.

It's like you got superpowers

Turn my minutes into hours

You got more than 20/20, babe

Made of glass, the way you see through me

You know me better than I do

Can't seem to keep nothing from you

How you touch my soul from the outside

Permeate my ego and my pride

I wanna love me

The way that you love me

Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me

The way that you trust me

Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view

Glancing over at Chris in his backwards cap, grey tank, and sweats a small smile forms on your lips watching his fingers delicately press against each key. He could feel your eyes as he looked up with a smile himself winking at you and making you innocently giggle.

I'm gеtting used to receiving

Still gеtting good at not leaving

I'ma love you even though I'm scared

Learnin' to be grateful for myself

You love my lips 'cause they say the

Things we've always been afraid of

I can feel it startin' to subside

Learnin' to believe in what is mine

I wanna love me

The way that you love me

Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me

The way that you trust me

Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view

Standing from your seat, you slowly make your way beside him on the bench resting your head on his shoulder while the camera pans around to catch your cute exchange.

I couldn't believe it or see it for myself

Know I be impatient

But now I'm out here, fallin', fallin'

Frozen, slowly thawing, got me right

I won't keep you waitin', waitin'

All my baggage fadin' safely

And if my eyes deceive me

Won't let them stray too far away

I wanna love me

The way that you love me

Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me, ooh

The way that you trust me, baby

'Cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view

As he plays his last few notes, your arms gently wrap around his bicep and your chin rests on his shoulder before you peck the corner of his mouth. His lips twitch into that adorable smile you love so much after mouthing “I love you” and all those around cheer with claps and whistles.

“You did amazing honey,” he whispers cupping your cheek with his warm hand.

“Thank you, and you too Mozart.”

“Nope, we’re not making that a thing. We both know I literally could never,” he replies making you both laugh before being startled by Gina’s squeals.

“Girl you won best new artist!”

“Wait what?”

“You won! They just told me so you can go ahead and make your acceptance speech! They’ll play it when the category comes up.”

You have to be nudged by a chuckling Chris being in such a state of shock. Oh course you hoped and wished you’d win, but you didn’t expect it to actually happen. Returning to your barstool, you try to collect yourself as the signal is given that the camera was rolling.

“Wow, um hi everybody! I honestly didn’t think this would happen,” you nervously laugh. “Um first off thank you mom and dad for your support even though I was probably really annoying singing all over the house all hours of the day. Thank you to the fans, of course, for your support as well from streaming to buying my music and all the other ways you guys have been so amazing to me. I may not be able to respond to every single post, tweet, or DM but I see you guys and from the bottom of my heart I truly thank every single one of you. My friends and my team, I love y’all so much and appreciate all that you guys do to help and keep me sane.”

“And to the one who inspired the song that helped me get this award,” you sigh peering past the camera to see a glossy eyed Chris leaning against the wall. “Thank you for being exactly what I need when I need it, whether it’s a cuddle buddy, a partner in crime for late night food runs, or a friend to remind me to love myself when I’m doing the opposite. I love you and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Rotating the silver band on your ring finger, you hold up your hand with a shy smile to reveal a sparkling princess cut diamond making everyone around beam with excitement, and surely those who would be watching at home.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @scoop93535 @secretmysteriousperson

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