#edit: NEVER EXPECTED THE RETURN BUT I GUESS I CALLED IT

[rendiggitydog]

Okay this one. might be a stretch,,

Y’all know the Aerial Sheep Service? What if they were cloud sheep, huh?

[kingofbodyrolls]

Learn to Love Again (m) | myg

Summary: People always leave. They become beautiful stars shining bright in the night sky. When life hands you lemons, you’ve been told to make lemonade, but that is hard when your soul and heart is breaking apart. When you rescue a tiny cat and meet a handsome stranger in the cafe, you finally feel yourself healing – but when they too leave, how are you going to learn to love again?

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female, mainly called pet names so no ‘Y/N’).

AU + genres: Hybrid!au (shapeshifter!yoongi), strangers to lovers, slice of life, heavy angst, a lot of sadness and grief (I’m sorry!), dark vibes, smut and fluff and some humor sprinkled in there too. 

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 19,4K

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 🌸

Warnings (general) + triggers: Heavy angst, extreme heavy sadness and grief, death of minor characters, mention of previous character death (parents and siblings), mentions of su*cide, mention of m*rder, su*cidal thoughts. Mention of past car accident. Mention of past domestic abuse. Mirrors 👀👀

Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please stay safe!), choking, oral (female receiving), nipple and breasts play, one-time use of a degrading word (otherwise petname), hair pulling – I guess it’s pretty vanilla with a slight sprinkle of spice 🤭

Author’s note  (1): I know it sounds hella sad (and it is), but it is also very sweet and heartwarming too 💜 I wanted to venture into the darker stuff again, and embrace all the feelings and sadness that I felt a few weeks ago (I’m fine, well I’m getting through it at least). 

If you are triggered by any of the warnings, I suggest that you skip this. It’s not that explicit though, but the heavy subjects are still there and they feature in it a lot.

Also, the quote “people always leave” features a lot in this and I only now realize why I find it so familiar – it’s a famous quote from Peyton Sawyer from One Tree Hill.

Author's note  (2): It’s only partly edited, so I’m so sorry about any mistakes or weird wordings (English is also not my mother language). When I read it again, I felt sad and like the whole thing is crap (why do I also feel like this adgadfjkhs), BUT, I still like it, it’s a piece of my heart in there… I can’t just let it sit in my docs to collect dust. So – I’ll just post it early and never look at the thing again (expect for the cover, because damn I’m so happy with how that turned out 🥹).

Taglist: @keshiadeija @viankiss @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad If you prefer to read on AO3 you can also find it there 🙂

The heavens are weeping again, unleashing a torrential downpour that drums heavy on the windows. Just like the heavy beating of your heart and the tears that just won’t stop falling down your cheeks.

For days now, the world has languished in this disquiet, a foreboding atmosphere that has draped itself over every moment, casting a shadow even before the haunting ring of the call that echoed through the silence.

A searing, heart-wrenching call that etched itself into the fabric of your existence, standing out as one of the most agonizing moments life has ever dared to deliver.

Caught off guard by the unexpected twist of fate, it blindsided you, sending shockwaves through your core and leaving you utterly rattled, as if the very ground beneath your feet had shifted without warning.

Your conviction in her well-being crumbled as swiftly as a sandcastle against the tide.

In your last encounter, she radiated joy—her infectious happiness casting a brilliant glow over her words as she spoke about her new job, her blossoming romance, and her boundless love for life.

A tear, heavy with the weight of the contrast between then and now, traces a lonely path down your cheek.

The echo of her laughter, the sparkle in her eyes, and the unbridled excitement that made her hands tremble with anticipation haunted your memories. 

It's a heart-wrenching juxtaposition between the happiness she projected and the sorrow now etched into the fabric of your own emotions.

She wasn't just a friend; she was your confidante, a steadfast companion through the labyrinth of years and experiences. Your best friend.

In the tapestry of your friendship, she emerged as the resplendent thread, the one who consistently outshone the rest. 

Even on her darkest days, she radiated a brilliance that surpassed the ordinary, a celestial glow that left an indelible mark on your heart. To you, she wasn't just a friend; she was a luminous star, a breathtaking celestial entity whose untimely descent felt like a cosmic supernova, casting a blinding light that left everyone in its wake awestruck and forever changed.

Like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, the day she chose to end her own life blindsided everyone. 

The abruptness of her decision, the finality of calling it quits, left a haunting question echoing in the hollow chambers of your soul—why? 

The puzzle remains unsolved, the enigma of her despair a perplexing maze you can't navigate. Outwardly, her life seemed like a canvas painted in hues of contentment, yet the invisible struggles eluded comprehension. 

Despite the deep conversations that usually wove through the tapestry of your friendship, the darkness she harbored never surfaced in her words. Her choice to shroud her pain in silence remains an unfathomable mystery, a tragic paradox that still elicits a profound sense of bewilderment.

The haunting ‘what if’ lingers, an elusive specter of regret—what if she had shared her struggles with you? 

The possibility that your words could have been a lifeline is an uncharted sea of sorrow. The uncertainty, the unfulfilled potential for intervention, claws at your conscience like a relentless tempest.

In the wake of this unanswered plea for connection, tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop bearing the weight of unspoken conversations. The dampness on your collarbone, where your shirt clings uncomfortably, is a tangible reminder of the storm within. 

A mere few days have crawled by since that fateful call, the kind that alters the very fabric of reality. 

The echo of your friend's voice reverberates through your memory—a seismic revelation that shattered your world. As the words unfolded, you crumpled to the floor, the phone nearly slipping from your trembling grasp.

A gasp caught in your throat, a palpable surge of emotion crashing over you like a tidal wave.

In that harrowing moment, your heartbeat quickened, each thud resonating with the weight of sorrow and anger. The air itself seemed to constrict, tainted with the bitter aftertaste of an impending storm. The onslaught of emotions clawed at your chest, a tumultuous dance between sadness and anger, each one vying for dominance in the chaotic symphony of your soul.

Powerlessness wraps around you like a suffocating shroud, the absence of your brightest star leaving a void that seems insurmountable. 

In this moment of staggering loss, the future unfolds as a vast expanse of uncertainty. How do you navigate a world without the radiant glow she once brought to your existence?

Yet, as the weight of grief presses down, a resilient ember flickers within. Acknowledging the inexorable march of time, you realize that her memory, like a cherished constellation, will be a guiding light in the night sky of your life. 

In the tapestry of your emotions, she, alongside your parents, becomes one of the celestial beacons you look up to during moments of sorrow or when life's burdens become too overwhelming.

You step out onto the balcony, enveloped by the velvety embrace of the dark blue sky. 

The resplendent moon takes center stage, surrounded by a constellation of bright companions that twinkle in the vast expanse of the night. The beauty of the cosmos is a bittersweet solace, a celestial dance that captivates your gaze.

The night sky has always held a captivating allure for you, but in the wake of the profound loss of your parents, it transcends mere beauty. 

It becomes a sanctuary, a cosmic tapestry where memories linger among the stars. Each celestial beacon now carries the weight of cherished moments, transforming the night into a sacred canvas where the brilliance of your loved ones continues to shine, casting a radiant glow that lingers in the quiet moments of contemplation.

The subtle hum of your phone reverberates in your hand, a clandestine messenger that disrupts the tranquility of your thoughts, setting loose a cascade of emotions. 

The screen lights up with a message from a friend, its arrival like a seismic tremor in the landscape of your contemplations, shaking loose the delicate balance you've tried so desperately to maintain.

Yuna [20.31]: Iseul’s funeral is on Saturday. We’re all going. U coming?🌹

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach like a heavy anchor – the thought of attending the funeral feels like navigating a tempest of emotions you're not sure you're prepared to weather. 

The prospect of confronting tears, raw emotion, and the grieving presence of her family looms before you, casting a shadow over the already somber occasion. 

Yet, duty intertwines with reluctance; you were her best friend, after all. 

The expectation to pay your respects becomes an unspoken mandate, tugging at the seams of your resolve despite the storm of discomfort that brews within.

Tears have become an unwelcome torrent on your phone, transforming the smooth surface into a slippery terrain that complicates every attempt to type. 

The screen blurs beneath a watery veil, mirroring the tumultuous cascade in your own eyes. Distraction clings to each droplet, making it not only challenging to navigate the phone but also to see through the emotional downpour that clouds your vision.

But against the deluge of sorrow and the weight of grief, you summon the strength for a brief reply, a fragile lifeline tossed into the turbulent sea of emotions.

You [20.46]: Yes🌹

With a heavy sigh, you gently lay your phone face-down on the nightstand, as if shielding the illuminated screen from the weight of the world you've just momentarily set aside.

How do you navigate this desolate landscape that life has become? 

The void feels more palpable now, a haunting echo of emptiness that had lingered even before.

It's as if the very essence of existence has been drained away, leaving you grappling with the profound question: What is the point when the world around you continues to crumble, and people around you just keep dying?

At Iseul's funeral, you navigated the somber scene alongside your friend group, bracing for the emotional maelstrom that awaited. 

The atmosphere unfolded exactly as you had anticipated — a tableau of tears, grief-stricken family members, and the embrace of mournful hugs. Conversations echoed with memories of Iseul's radiant spirit, each word a bittersweet tribute to the bright and bubbly soul that once graced your lives. 

Amidst the collective sorrow, the air hung heavy with the weight of loss, weaving a tapestry of emotions that spoke to the indelible impact Iseul had left behind.

It was agonizing, bidding farewell in the harsh reality of acceptance. The harsh truth of life unveiled itself – an unrelenting cycle of departures. 

Yet, amidst the crushing finality, you find solace in the enduring promise that even though everyone leaves, the stars above will forever bear witness to her presence, a cosmic constellation of memories that will continue to illuminate the canvas of your nights.

Work persists in its mundane rhythm, the monotony punctuated only by the forced smiles you offer customers as you brew their coffee or recommend delectable treats in the cafe. 

For you, work has forever remained a sterile landscape, devoid of passion or purpose. The unfulfilled yearning for a meaningful career tugs at the edges of your consciousness, a persistent ache exacerbated by life's unrelenting cruelty—your unfinished degree in astrophysics stands as a testament to dreams deferred. Maybe you’ll go back to school – you don’t know.

Your thoughts are abruptly shattered by a brash intrusion, a man’s voice slicing through the ambient noise with an unwarranted familiarity. “Hi, pretty,” he drawls, snapping your attention to the present, “can I get a black coffee, a muffin, and your number, please?” 

The audacious request hangs in the air, leaving a charged pause that crackles with a blend of amusement and annoyance.

You stifle a silent scoff, a careful veil to conceal the simmering irritation within, though the indignation is palpable. 

This flirtatious interlude is far from novel—far from the first time someone has attempted to weave charm into the fabric of your workday. Yet, a discomforting truth lingers beneath your composed exterior: you disdain these unwarranted advances, a sentiment you've carried with you each time such encounters stain the ordinary canvas of your work.

Forcing a smile that feels more like a fragile mask, you locate a muffin, navigating the familiar routine with practiced efficiency. 

As you approach the coffee machine to craft the requested brew, you gather both items and, with a subtle sigh, slide them across the counter. 

Your words, delivered with a polite cadence, carry a hint of firmness as you say, “Here you go. Apologies, but my number isn't on the menu.”

Turning men down has become a skill honed through the crucible of experience, a necessity etched into the fabric of your being, especially after the wreckage of your last relationship. 

It wasn't just a breakup; it was a tempest that left you bruised, not only on the surface but also in the recesses of your soul. 

To declare a dread of relationships, despite the quiet longing that flickers deep within, would be an understatement—the mere thought evokes the echoes of a tumultuous past, a cautionary tale etched in both physical and emotional hues of black and blue.

Despite the man's disapproving frown, he begrudgingly parts with his payment, snatching his coffee and muffin.

As he vacates the space, you extend a tight-lipped greeting to the next customer, the forced smile a delicate masquerade concealing the intricacies of emotion churning beneath the surface.

Day after day unfolds in this relentless routine, a relentless loop where, despite the suffocating weight of depression, you muster the strength to haul yourself into work. 

The struggle is an unspoken battle, fought in the silent recesses of your soul, and each morning becomes a victory against the persistent darkness that threatens to engulf your spirit.

You maintain a lifeline to your friends, weaving a narrative of your somber mood and emotional tumult, acutely aware of the significance of vocalizing your feelings rather than succumbing to the perilous grip of silent suffering.

Recent conversations with your friends have taken an unexpected turn, steering into the realm of your dating life or, more accurately, its conspicuous absence. 

Their fervent advocacy for you to reenter the world of romance echoes in your ears, their well-intentioned pleas urging you to cross paths with someone great and amazing. 

However, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of uncertainty, unsure if you're ready to navigate the labyrinth of love once more. 

Despite your reservations, you indulge them, allowing their words to wash over you like a waterfall of unsolicited advice, all the while steadfast in your understanding that a man is not a prerequisite for happiness or the completeness of your life—you've long recognized your ability to stand firm and flourish on your own terms.

An entire season has unfurled its tapestry, and while the vast void persists within the caverns of your heart, there's a subtle transformation underway. Amidst the lingering shadows, a sliver of the sun's warm rays threads its way through, gently illuminating the emptiness. 

The caress of warm weather and sunlight manages to coax a faint lift in your mood, a subtle thawing of the emotional frost. 

Yet, amidst the burgeoning warmth, there's a yearning for the crispness of cold, the kind that invites the comfort of wool sweaters and socks, beckoning a desire to cocoon on the couch and lose yourself in the embrace of solitude.

After withstanding the relentless onslaught of your friends' persistent prodding into the realm of your love life, you've yielded to the chorus of their well-meaning badgering. With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, you've made the bold decision to reenter the intricate dance of the dating game.

The prospect of discovering 'the one' remains shrouded in uncertainty, a delicate balance between the promise of profound connection and the potential peril of heartache from those who might not treat you right. 

However, the ambiguity of the journey doesn't deter your resolve. To remain passive is to forfeit the chance at something extraordinary. 

The echoes of Iseul and the silent encouragement from your departed parents reverberate, urging you to embrace life with all its intricate hues. Their unwritten wish for your happiness becomes the compass guiding your path, compelling you to take the plunge and give it your all.

You yearn for a life where the pursuit of happiness isn't punctuated by the haunting inevitability of departures and loss. You grasp the harsh truth that people leaving or departing through death is an inescapable facet of existence, a relentless current in the river of life. 

Yet, the recurring tide of sorrow that washes over you each time someone departs feels burdensome, a weight that anchors your spirit. It would be a cherished reprieve if the ebb and flow of life's transitions didn't carry with it a relentless undertow that threatens to drag you down each time.

Your dating escapades have unfolded like a series of misadventures, each rendezvous more perplexing than the last. 

One suitor wielded an aggressive tone that eclipsed any potential connection, while another was so absorbed in self-interest that your voice seemed but an echo in the conversation. Then there was the one who sought solace in your company to mend a broken heart, an unwitting participant in their quest for emotional repair.

With every disappointing encounter, your hopes wane like the dying embers of a once-bright flame. Yet, undeterred, you persist in the pursuit of connection, a resilient soul navigating the unpredictable seas of dating with unwavering determination.

Amidst the tumultuous sea of advice from your friends, the suggestion of a night out clubbing emerges as a potential remedy to jumpstart your dating life—a one-night stand, a shortcut to reclaiming agency over your love life. 

However, the proposition fails to align with the essence of who you are. The neon-lit allure of the club scene doesn't resonate with your soul, and the idea of a fleeting encounter doesn't hold the promise you seek. 

Nonetheless, you find yourself engulfed in a pulsating sea of sound, the music in the club roaring, the bass reverberating through the floor and into your bones. 

The atmosphere is a maelstrom of heat and sweat, a suffocating embrace that intensifies your regret for being there. 

Yuna, exuding an air of confidence, takes charge and orders a round of drinks for the group. Meanwhile, Nari's eyes scan the lively chaos of the club, a vigilant matchmaker on a mission to uncover potential matches for you.

Her finger extends with a pointed certainty toward a mysterious figure—a dark-haired man sporting a sleeveless shirt, the canvas of his arm adorned with an intricate tattoo sleeve. His dark eyes, scanning the crowded expanse of the club, carry an enigmatic intensity, hinting at a captivating allure that goes beyond the surface.

Your laughter carries a blend of amusement and skepticism as you dismissively remark, “Nah, he's giving off major fuckboy vibes.”

Amidst the cacophony of pounding music in the club, Nari practically shouts in your face, her words punctuating the beat as she insists, “Maybe that's exactly what you need!” 

The intensity of her proclamation, a fervent plea for spontaneity, reverberates in the air, a challenge thrown into the whirlwind of the night's possibilities.

You shake your head, a firm yet polite rejection lingering on your lips, “No, thank you.” 

Just as the tension subsides, Yuna appears with a tray of drinks, a timely distraction. Gratefully, you accept your drink, savoring the sweet and sour concoction that dances across your palate, momentarily providing respite from the charged atmosphere of the club.

The night unfolds in a rhythm of measured indulgence—a few drinks to chase a gentle buzz, steering clear of the edge of intoxication. Your gaze scans the crowd in search of potential matches, but amidst the pulsating lights and swirling music, none captures the elusive spark that ignites a genuine interest.

As the night deepens and the rhythm of the club starts to fade, you bid farewell to your friends, the weight of the evening settling in your bones. 

Stepping out into the nocturnal air, you're greeted by the relentless cascade of rain, a torrential downpour that catches you off guard. Damn it, you realize, a surge of annoyance coursing through you, you didn't bring an umbrella.

Embracing a sudden burst of defiance, you make a split-second decision, a resolute ‘fuck it’ echoing in your mind. 

Stepping onto the sidewalk without the shelter of an umbrella, you surrender to the unrelenting rain. In mere moments, your hair clings to your skin, and your clothes succumb to the downpour.

As you navigate the labyrinth of alleys and pass by numerous apartments, a peculiar low noise infiltrates the ambient hum of the rain. What is that sound? 

It's a subtle yet persistent calling that arrests your movements, compelling you to strain your senses in an attempt to decipher its origin. 

It's not just your slightly tipsy mind, is it, playing tricks on you? 

The cadence of the noise feels like a desperate plea, an ethereal call for help that beckons you into a mysterious dance between reality and the unknown.

Undeterred by the absence of street lamps, you navigate a shadowy alleyway nestled between looming apartment complexes. The darkness cloaks the path ahead, but you press on, an intrepid explorer drawn to the mystery that lies beyond the veil of obscurity. 

As you draw nearer, the enigmatic noise crescendos in intensity, a haunting melody that pierces the quiet of the alley. 

Your steps quicken, and with each stride, the source becomes clearer. Could it be emanating from the depths of the dumpster?

A sense of déjà vu wraps around you, as if this eerie scene has been lifted from a cinematic reel. The dilemma tugs at your curiosity, tempting you to peer into the abyss of the dumpster, a choice that hangs in the balance. 

Yet, before you make a decision, a glimmer of relief washes over you. 

Nestled snugly beside the dumpster, a small ball of fur captivates your attention, its presence a stark contrast to the ominous shadows. 

A silhouette emerges from the darkness, and as you inch closer, the mystery unfolds into a shivering, meowing figure—a black cat. 

The frailness of the tiny creature tugs at your heartstrings, and you find yourself hunching down, extending a tentative invitation with soft calls, coaxing the small, ebony bundle to bridge the gap between its vulnerability and your outstretched hand.

The black cat fixes its gaze upon you, eyes mirroring a blend of uncertainty and wariness, as if it's attempting to decipher the intentions behind your outstretched hand. 

The black cat stirs from its initial hesitation, uttering plaintive meows that seem to echo its distress. As it rises, the stark reality becomes evident—malnourished and shrouded in fear, it moves tentatively towards you. Each step seems to echo a history of abandonment and struggle. With aching slowness, the feline inches closer, navigating the wet ground with trepidation. 

Softly, you beckon the malnourished feline closer, the words “Come here, you poor thing” carrying an invitation laced with compassion. 

As the tiny creature inches nearer, its pitch-black eyes become an intense focal point, a gaze that transcends the physical realm, peering into the depths of your soul. In that poignant exchange, a silent pact forms—an unspoken promise of comfort and understanding between two beings, each seeking solace in the other's company.

As the fragile black cat draws near, an echo from your past resurfaces—the cautionary words of your mother reverberating in your mind. ‘Black cats bring omen and death,’ her voice, etched in childhood memories, had warned. 

Yet, confronted with the stark vulnerability of this shivering, lost creature in the cold summer rain, you find your resolve tested. 

Against the weight of your mother's superstitions, compassion prevails, and you make a conscious decision to offer refuge. You haven’t got anything else to lose, but yourself.

The cat's purrs resonate in the quiet alley, a melodic response to the tentative connection forming between you. Meows become a symphony of trust as it finally caresses your hand, a delicate dance of vulnerability. 

With a newfound intimacy, it leans into your touch, climbing up your arm to find refuge in your lap. Despite your jacket's damp embrace, you pull the shivering creature closer, enfolding it tightly against your chest.

“I’ll take you home and get you some food.”

Rising from the damp alley, you cradle the tiny black cat in your arms, an intimate embrace that transcends the physicality of the moment. As you navigate the journey home, each step becomes a testament to the newfound connection—its fragile heartbeat resonating against your chest.

As you finally reach the sanctuary of your home, both you and the shivering cat are thoroughly drenched from the relentless rain. 

With a twist of the key, you unlock the door to your small apartment, ushering in a breath of warmth that contrasts sharply with the damp chill outside. 

In a choreography of relief, you kick off your sodden shoes, the cat nestled at your feet. Unburdened by the weight of the rain-soaked coat, you hang it on the rack, a visual symbol of the transition from the stormy world outside to the comforting refuge within the four walls of your home.

“I'll find you a towel and dry you off,” you promise to the cat, your words a tender reassurance before your feet. With a sense of urgency, you hasten to the bathroom, a quest for a towel becoming a mission to provide comfort to your newfound companion.

As you return, traces of wet footprints mark the path from the entryway to your living room, leading to the sight of the cat perched regally on your couch. 

The unexpected image elicits a sense of awe within you, a silent marvel at the fortuitous encounter that has unfolded. With the fluffy towel in hand, you join the tiny creature on the couch.

With gentle strokes, you tenderly dry the cat with the fluffy towel, the rhythmic purrs and meows resonating like a melody of gratitude. 

In this intimate act of care, a bond forms between you and the feline, its response a testament to the shared understanding that has quietly blossomed. 

The dampness of the storm may linger outside, but within the confines of your home, a warmth permeates, forged through the simple yet profound act of offering comfort to a fragile soul.

Persistently, the cat continues its chorus of meows, its nearly obsidian eyes fixed on you with an intensity that transcends mere feline curiosity. In the silent exchange, a profound question lingers in the air—what does it want? 

The gaze carries an almost pleading quality, an unspoken plea that invites you to unravel the mysteries hidden within those enigmatic eyes, and in doing so, embark on a journey of connection and understanding with this small, mysterious soul.

A revelation flickers in your mind like a sudden burst of light—food! 

The realization washes over you, and a spark of understanding illuminates the unspoken hunger behind those pleading eyes. “You're starving, ain't ya?” you murmur, the words a bridge between the two of you, an acknowledgment of shared needs and the beginning of a silent commitment to provide not just shelter but sustenance to this small, hungry soul.

In a hurried dance between care and necessity, you dart into the kitchen, swinging open the fridge door to unleash a blast of cold air. 

The realization that your wet clothes might lead to an impending cold nudges at you, urging a brief pause for self-care. As you contemplate changing into dry attire, the cat, now a nimble companion, weaves around your feet, a symphony of meows echoing its anticipation of the impending feast.

As your gaze sweeps across the contents of the fridge, a flurry of questions dance in your mind—what do cats like? 

In a moment of culinary improvisation, you spot the remnants of yesterday's fish. A hopeful assumption takes hold—cats like fish, right? 

Without a second thought, you snatch the container, crack it open, and ceremoniously place it on the floor. 

The cat descends upon the fish with a voracity that borders on desperation, consuming it in a whirlwind of seconds. 

You observe in silent fascination as the cat devours the fish with an almost primal fervor, each bite a testament to the depth of its hunger.

As the cat lifts its gaze, those dark, fond eyes fixate on you, a silent expression of gratitude that transcends words, forging a connection that lingers in the air like the sweet aftertaste of an unexpected bond.

You retrieve a bowl, fill it with water, and place it on the floor. The cat, having satisfied its hunger, wastes no time. It immediately dips its tongue into the water, each lap a testament to the thirst that had accompanied its hunger. 

In the quiet aftermath of the cat's meal, you find yourself engaged in a one-sided conversation. While it laps up the water, you speak to it with a hint of longing, as if expecting the feline to reveal its name with a mere glance. “I don't know what your name is…” you muse aloud, your words hanging in the air like a silent plea for connection. 

In the exchange, a profound yearning takes root—a desire not just to care for this creature but to unravel the mystery that shrouds it, beginning with the revelation of a name.

Hmm... A whimsical idea takes shape in your mind, and with a voice full of hope, you share your musings with the feline companion. “I don't know, maybe I'll give you one!” you exclaim, the words tinged with the excitement of a newfound connection.

Testing the waters, you propose a couple of names with a hopeful lilt in your voice. “Shadow?” you venture, eyes fixated on the cat, seeking any flicker of recognition. 

Yet, met with a stoic demeanor, you playfully offer another option, “Licorice?” 

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, but the cat remains unfazed, engrossed in its culinary pursuits. 

Embracing a sudden surge of inspiration, you think of a name that dances on the edges of whimsy and mischief. “You look like a 'Loki,' like a God of Mischief!” The words tumble out with a playful chuckle, a nod to the elusive charm that shrouds the feline. 

To your surprise, the cat interrupts its feast, casting what seems like a dumbfounded expression your way. 

A moment of shared acknowledgment hangs in the air before the cat resumes its meal, leaving you to wonder if, in that fleeting pause, you've glimpsed the spark of recognition in its enigmatic eyes.

An impromptu burst of enthusiasm seizes you, and with an abrupt yell, you christen the cat in a moment of whimsy. “Kitten!” 

The exclamation is so sudden that it startles the cat, prompting a small leap in surprise. “That's your name. You're so small, like a little kitten,” you playfully jest, mimicking the affectionate cooing one might give to a baby. 

In the imaginary realm where cats understand human whims, you half-expect a hypothetical eye-roll, as if the creature were a miniature human indulging in the theatrics of a quirky naming ceremony.

In the wake of your spontaneous naming ceremony, Kitten darts away, a streak of fur and energy leaving you in its playful wake. A fleeting attempt to follow its swift movements reveals the futility of keeping pace with this agile companion.

An earnest plea escapes your lips, “No, don't run away, Kitten!” A plea that halts not far from your bedroom, where a sudden idea takes root. “We're going to bed, and you can even sleep in my bed.” The promise hangs in the air, an invitation that sparks the cat's curiosity. 

Without hesitation, Kitten races back to you, weaving through your legs and darting into the bedroom. It watches itself in the mirror in front of your bed, before it in a graceful leap, lands on the bed, transforming this impromptu offer into a shared moment of warmth and companionship.

A soft chuckle escapes you as Kitten, with a graceful twirl, transforms into a snug, fluffy black ball. It settles onto the bed, a picture of contentment and trust, the rhythmic rise and fall of its breathing echoing in the room. 

In the sanctuary of your bathroom, the day's residue fades away as you delicately remove stained makeup and indulge in your nightly skincare rituals. 

With a sense of quiet reverence, you return to the bedroom, mindful not to disrupt Kitten's serene repose. Nestled in bed, you prop yourself up, the rhythmic routine a prelude to the tranquility that envelops the room. 

As you surrender to the embrace of sleep, the ethereal presence of the black cat becomes a silent companion in the journey between waking and dreams, a guardian of the night's secrets.

In the intimate company of Kitten, you find solace in the honesty of your own reflection. “He wasn't really for me, Kitten. I don't know why I keep going on these dates. They amount to nothing.” A sigh punctuates your admission, a subtle echo of the unspoken search for connection that seems elusive in the realm of human encounters. 

As you delve into a shared meal with your newfound family member – Kitten, you stuff your face with delicious food in an attempt to keep your minds off your failing romantic life.

Kitten responds to your words with a series of gentle meows, a seemingly agreeable chorus that resonates in the room. 

Over the past few days, he has transformed into an impeccable listener, absorbing the tapestry of your thoughts with silent grace. 

In the quiet moments of your soliloquies, a yearning surfaces—a desire for more than a feline confidant, for words that echo back with advice and wisdom. 

Yet, despite this unfulfilled wish, Kitten's silent companionship remains a source of profound comfort, his presence weaving seamlessly into the fabric of your daily life, a testament to the unexpected connections that emerge in the quiet interludes of solitude.

Consistent as the rhythm of a heartbeat, Kitten is there, a patient sentinel awaiting your return from the hustle of the day. 

His presence becomes a cherished routine, an embodiment of comfort that transcends the mundanity of the everyday. 

As you settle in front of the television, Kitten gracefully claims his place in your lap, his form snuggling into the contours of your warmth. 

The scene unfolds like a silent ballet, a dance between two beings finding solace in the quietude of shared moments—a testament to the profound bond that has blossomed in the intimate spaces of your daily life.

On a day marked by what you'd deem a successful date, you decide to bring the guy home to your apartment. 

Kitten welcomes you with joyous meows, but the moment his obsidian eyes lock onto the man, a palpable shift occurs. 

The cat's once-hospitable demeanor morphs into a display of territorial assertion—he hisses, claws unsheathed, a guardian of the sacred space that has become both haven and sanctuary.

Unfazed by Kitten's display of discontent, the man follows you into the bedroom, a trail of unresolved tension lingering in the air. However, as you attempt to navigate the fragile balance between human relationships and the silent protests of your feline confidant, Kitten stalks in with palpable anger. 

Kitten's claws assert their protest on the man's pants, a silent plea echoing through the room. “I'm so sorry about my cat. He's not usually like this,” you hastily apologize, attempting to navigate the tumultuous intersection of human connection and feline territoriality. 

In the midst of the uneasy dance, the guy gently guides you down onto the bed, a kiss bridging the gap between words left unsaid and the uncharted landscapes of desire.

In an unforeseen twist, Kitten catapults onto the bed, launching a surprise attack on the poor man's back with unbridled ferocity. 

The room erupts with a sudden commotion as the guy yells in pain, Kitten swiftly retreating to the shelter of your startled embrace.

Frustration and pain tinge the man's voice as he vehemently declares, “Fuck this. This isn't worth it! Your cat is a fucking psycho!” 

The words hang in the air, a bitter testament to the unexpected turbulence that has unraveled in the wake of Kitten's feline intervention. 

With an angry storm, the man storms out of your bedroom and through the front door, leaving behind a charged atmosphere and the unresolved echoes of a connection unraveling at the seams.

As the storm of emotions settles, Kitten finds solace in your lap, a contented purr resonating through the room—a feline sovereign basking in the aftermath of his territorial triumph. 

Meanwhile, you remain seated, mouth agape, an image of stunned disbelief etched across your face. 

You address Kitten with a scolding tone, attempting to impart a sense of reprimand into the air. “You can't do that, Kitten!” you assert, a firmness in your voice attempting to breach the language barrier between human and feline.

Amidst the aftermath, a hesitant chuckle escapes your lips, a soft attempt to diffuse the tension that lingers in the air. “Also, you're gonna leave me single forever if you do that,” you jest, the words bearing the weight of both humor and a subtle unease. 

In the ambiguous space between laughter and contemplation, you grapple with the conflicting emotions stirred by Kitten's unexpected display of protectiveness—a complex blend of gratitude, amusement, and the uncharted territories of understanding the intricate dynamics of companionship with a creature whose language transcends the boundaries of words.

A solitary figure with raven-black hair occupies a corner table in the cafe, his presence shrouded in an air of quiet mystery that tugs at the edges of your memory. 

Intrigued, you've stolen glances at him, an unspoken connection sparking curiosity within you. 

The man, seemingly lost in a world of words and sketches within the pages of his journal, emanates a strange familiarity that dances on the fringes of your consciousness. 

As he sips on his coffee, a poignant picture of solitude and anticipation, you can't help but wonder about the untold story woven into the fabric of his contemplative gaze. Perhaps he's a poet awaiting inspiration, or maybe, like you, he's caught in the delicate dance of anticipation, waiting for someone who may never arrive.

His long, pitch-black hair cascades in soft curls, framing a face adorned with dark, expressive eyes. The fair and creamy complexion of his skin, paired with lips tinged with the aftermath of fervent bites, adds an air of mystery to his features. His hands, adorned with prominent veins, move with purpose across the pages of his journal, translating the thoughts within his mind into tangible strokes. Clad in a black leather biker jacket and ripped jeans, he emanates a ‘bad boy’ allure that might not align with your usual preferences, yet there's an undeniable handsomeness that transcends the surface. As you observe, the truth unfolds—looks can be deceiving, you know.

As the hands of the clock inch towards the conclusion of your shift, you notice the enigmatic man with the pitch-black hair has vanished, leaving only the echo of his presence lingering in the now vacant corner. 

The air is charged with the unspoken allure of an encounter that slipped through the fingers of time. 

Packing up your belongings, you carry the weight of curiosity with you as you embark on the journey home, where the enigmatic enigma of Kitten awaits.

Kitten, sensing your return, greets you with a symphony of affectionate meows. Your hand instinctively reaches out, weaving a tapestry of gentle pats and strokes, an unspoken language shared between human and feline. With a contented sigh escaping your lips, you murmur, “Happy to be home.”

In the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, you find yourself recounting the day's enigmatic encounter to Kitten, the words lingering in the air like a shared secret between kindred spirits. “I saw the loneliest guy today, Kitten. It felt like he was waiting for someone, but destiny stood him up.” 

As the words escape your lips, Kitten's attentive gaze reflects an unspoken understanding, a silent pact shared between you and your feline confidant.

Your fingers delicately dance behind Kitten's ears, a gesture that elicits a symphony of contented purrs, resonating within the confines of your quiet haven. 

The next day unfolds like a familiar scene, the cafe's atmosphere steeped in the aroma of coffee and the rustle of pages turning. 

Once again, the mysterious black-haired man graces the corner with his presence, accompanied by a steaming cup of coffee and the enigmatic dance of his pen across the pages of his journal. 

Your curiosity, a flame flickering in the recesses of your thoughts, draws you to the edge of decision — to approach and unravel the mysteries that cloak him. Yet, an invisible barrier holds you back, a silent pact with yourself not to disturb the solitary poet whose verses remain unread. 

The elusive man, shrouded in the mystery of unread words, remains a realm unexplored, as each coffee order becomes a bridge guarded by your coworker.

As the day unfolds, the mysterious man persists in his corner, a captivating enigma that draws your attention like a moth to a flame. 

The rhythmic ballet of your daily routine continues, an intricate dance of serving customers while stealing glances in his direction. 

In the quiet recesses of your mind, a burning question simmers – who could possibly stand up this captivating soul, adorned with the allure of dark hair and an air of mystery that commands the room?

After days of observing the silent saga of the man and his solitude, a week of unbroken routine, your empathy swells like a rising tide. 

A magnetic force compels you to bridge the distance, and against the backdrop of the cafe's ambient hum, your feet, as if guided by an invisible hand, carry you to the table where he patiently awaits an absent companion. 

With a mix of curiosity and compassion, you settle into the chair opposite him, breaking the invisible barrier that held you apart.

As your presence disrupts the solitude he had grown accustomed to, his intense gaze, reminiscent of a predatory feline, lifts from the pages of his journal to meet your own. The sharpness in his eyes feels like a calculated assessment, causing a subtle tremor to course through you. You gulp.

“Hi,” you start, the uncertainty palpable in your voice. Attempting to mask your nervousness, your fingers run through your hair, a feeble defense against the anxious tide. 

“I’ve noticed you here alone for the past few days, and I just—” Your words stumble, caught in the rush, but before you can continue, he interjects with a voice sharp as a blade, his eyes piercing through you like he can unravel your deepest secrets. 

“Are you stalking me?” The question hangs in the air, and his gaze feels like an X-ray, laying bare your darkest thoughts. Your body seizes, frozen in the penetrating gaze that seems to pry into the very recesses of your soul.

Why does his voice carry a hint of familiarity, resonating through the air like an echo from another time?

His very presence, too, feels like a distant memory, even though you're certain you hadn't laid eyes on him before he entered the cafe a week ago. 

A subtle smirk plays on his lips, a realization dawning on you that he's asked a question. As you attempt to gather your thoughts, you find yourself choking on air, grappling to string together a coherent response.

“I'm kidding. I know you work here,” he chuckles, and you release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Your shoulders ease, and in an instant, you respond with a soft smile, a subtle connection forming in that shared moment of relief.

“Are you waiting for someone?” you inquire, and a smile graces his face, revealing gleaming white teeth and pink gums. He looks cute. Dangerously so.

“Nah. She just arrived.” Your eyes light up. Finally, his date has shown up! You start to rise from your chair, eager to make space for his companion. He looks up at you, a curious expression on his face, and asks, “What are you doing?”

“Making room for your date?” you quip, utterly dumbfounded.

“Date?” he asks with a raised brow. You nod, adding, “The one you’ve been waiting for.”

“But I’m already looking at her.” Your mouth hangs wide open; did you just hear him right? Is this a pickup line? And why on earth is it working?

You chuckle nervously, the sound a stark contrast to his calm and cool demeanor.

You ease back into your chair, and the conversation flows so naturally that you feel like you've known him for years.

Upon returning home, you excitedly share the details of your day with Kitten, recounting the encounter with the handsome man with his curly hair and piercing eyes. While you stroke Kitten and he purrs contentedly, you express your perplexity about the strange sense of familiarity the man emanated, despite being certain you've never met him before.

Kitten twirls and purrs in your lap, savoring the gentle strokes as you recline on your couch.

“I can't help but wonder if he'll be there again tomorrow,” you muse, your voice a soft melody to the room, accompanied by Kitten's content purrs.

He returned to the cafe the next day, and the next and the next turned into weeks.

He dedicates every moment to his secluded corner, and during your breaks you find solace in the cadence of your conversations. His name, Yoongi, resonates with the soulful poems that he breathes life into with his well-worn guitar. You’ve never heard him play or sing, but you look forward to the day you might.

His question pierces through the hum of the café, abruptly pulling you from your reverie as you delicately nibble on your muffin. “Are you heading home for the summer break?” he inquires, the unexpected interruption leaving a sweet and curious taste lingering on your lips.

As his question hangs in the air, you lock eyes with him, realizing he might not grasp the gravity of his inquiry. 

There's a momentary sag in your shoulders, a silent acknowledgment of the pain that lies beneath. Gathering the strength to respond, you share a piece of your past, “No. My parents died when I was young.”

Regret casts a shadow over his striking features in an instant, and you witness a profound apology escaping from his lips.

“I'm holding up okay. It's a tale from a while back. A car accident took my parents, leaving just my little sister and me as survivors,” you share, a poignant sadness threading through your words, your eyes misting with the memories.

He tenderly offers words of comfort, a soothing balm for your weary soul, and you allow him to lift the heaviness that clings to your spirit.

You beam at him, grateful for the warmth that radiates from his kind soul, a presence you've grown to cherish over the past few months. “And you, any exciting plans for the summer?”

“I might have to go home to my parents for a bit, but I’m not sure yet,” he shares, absentmindedly running his fingers through his soft black locks, a gesture that makes you yearn for the touch of your own hand in that sea of darkness.

“I'm telling you, bitch!” Nari slaps Yuna's thigh, a bit too enthusiastically, causing her to flinch in pain, as Nari adds with a sly grin, “She's head over heels in loooove.”

You roll your eyes at both of them, their playful banter fading into background noise as you savor the drink that Yuna ordered for you.

You've navigated downtown, finding refuge in a cozy establishment where the ambient tunes, board games, and drinks create the perfect backdrop for reconnecting with your friends.

“I swear, I'm not head over heels or anything,” you insist, batting away their teasing with a playful smirk, all the while sipping on the drink that Yuna ordered for you.

“He’s just nice,” you add with a soft smile.

“You sure do talk about him a lot,” Yuna adds in a chuckle as she rubs her thigh.

“Well, he's an interesting person, and the conversations just flow,” you reply with a grin, downplaying the significance, but your friends exchange knowing glances that hint at their suspicions.

Nari takes a sip of her drink, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Speaking of crushes, your little companion, what's his name again? Kitten?”

You passionately defend Kitten, your eyes sparkling with affection. “Don't bring Kitten into this! I adore him,” you gush, wearing your love for the little furball as a badge of honor.

Nari shares her romantic wisdom, her words dripping with affection. “Cats are fine companions, but you should find a man who can bring you warmth and happiness,” she says, her eyes practically turning into hearts if this were a cartoon. You can't help but chuckle at her earnest advice.

Yuna playfully nudges your shoulder and suggests, “You should totally ask out this Yoongi guy. I mean, come on, you practically light up every time you talk about him.”

You pause, a moment of uncertainty hanging in the air. “Maybe,” you finally reply, your words carrying the weight of contemplation.

Nari's enthusiasm rings in your ears, a bit too loud in the cozy ambiance. “You don't have anything to lose, only more to gain!” she almost shouts, her excitement reaching its peak. Her words, fueled by a touch of intoxication, linger in the air, leaving you to ponder as you consider whether it's time to call it a night.

“Okay. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

As you step into your apartment, Kitten greets you with an extra dose of affection, weaving himself between your legs and trailing you with heightened attention. Tonight, he appears more attuned to your every move, purring and twirling around your legs with an endearing neediness. Settling down, you can't resist his charms and find yourself seated, offering gentle strokes to his fur-covered frame.

As you wrap up your nightly routine and slip into your comfortable pajamas, you turn to Kitten with a question that has become a familiar part of your routine. 

“I'm heading to bed, Kitten. You joining?” Kitten promptly leaps onto the bed, taking his customary place by your side. 

However, tonight, there's a lingering sense of affection in his actions. He showers you with gentle licks, a gesture that brings a smile to your face. As sleep gradually claims you, your dreams are adorned with vivid images of obsidian eyes and a dark, star-studded sky.

As you awaken from a restful sleep, the absence of Kitten by your side strikes you like a sudden jolt. 

Your initial response is to sit up, calling out for him, yet there's only silence in return. 

The quietness, once comforting, now carries an eerie weight as you realize the profound impact Kitten has had on your daily life. 

The room feels emptier, and a sense of unease settles in, disrupting the peace you've grown accustomed to.

A wave of melancholy washes over you, creating a heavy ache in your chest as you scan the familiar corners of your apartment, desperately searching for any sign of Kitten. 

The unanswered questions pile up in your mind, a torrent of worries threatening to drown you. Did he, too, decide to leave, slipping away like others from your life? 

The uncertainty gnaws at you, pushing you to venture into the quiet streets, hoping against hope to uncover the fate of your feline companion. Each step is a mix of trepidation and determination, a journey into the unknown to retrieve the missing piece of your daily existence.

A sense of desperation tightens its grip as you scour every nook and cranny, but Kitten remains elusive, leaving you with the bitter taste of vanishing hope. 

The echoes of your unanswered calls hang in the air, blending with the growing unease that clings to you like a shadow. The once familiar spaces now feel like a maze, and you can't shake the sinking feeling that your luck is slipping away, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. The haunting question persists: where could he be, and what could have taken him from your side?

With a mixture of determination and trepidation, your feet instinctively carry you back to the cafe. 

The familiar chime announces your arrival, drawing the attention of your coworker, who casts a puzzled look your way. The early hour has caught them off guard, their raised eyebrow mirroring the questions that dance in your own mind.

As you scan the cozy confines of the cafe, a subtle panic begins to creep through your veins. The absence of Yoongi creates an uneasy knot in your stomach, but you reassure yourself, clinging to the hope that he might stroll in later, as he often does.

The hours drag on, each passing moment heightening the anticipation. As the door chimes with every newcomer, a flicker of hope dances in your chest, only to be extinguished when it's not Yoongi. 

The day becomes a symphony of disappointment, and the subtle hope you clung to begins to dissipate, slipping through your fingers like elusive grains of sand. The cafe, once a haven of warmth and comfort, now feels eerily empty without the presence of his familiar silhouette.

As your shift draws to a close, a heavy sadness settles over you like a thick fog. The absence of Yoongi, who always brought a touch of warmth to the cafe, leaves an emptiness that echoes through the familiar surroundings. The unanswered questions linger in your mind, and a nagging worry creeps in — what could have kept him away? 

The air is charged with uncertainty, and you can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him.

A sudden realization hits you like a wave, as you recall Yoongi mentioning the possibility of traveling to his parents for the summer break. 

The initial sting of disappointment transforms into a pang of concern. Questions swirl in your mind like a tempest – did he leave without saying goodbye? Why didn't he share his plans with you? 

The uncertainty gnaws at your thoughts, and you grapple with the unknown, desperately seeking solace in the memories of your time together.

A disquieting sensation twists in your stomach, an ominous premonition casting a shadow over your thoughts. The unease tightens its grip, leaving you with an unsettling sense that something may have befallen Yoongi. 

Your mind races through various scenarios, each more distressing than the last, as you grapple with the haunting uncertainty that looms over his absence.

Regret echoes through your thoughts like a haunting refrain. The absence of contact details with Yoongi leaves you grappling with the repercussions of a missed opportunity, a seemingly insignificant detail now carrying the weight of your uncertainty. 

A sense of loss and yearning wraps around you, intensifying the void created by the absence of a farewell. The realization dawns that in the midst of budding connection, you failed to secure a bridge to traverse the distance that now separates you.

Each step on the journey home feels like a weighted march, the heaviness of unspoken goodbyes sinking into your bones. 

Sorrow, like a relentless tide, floods your heart, consuming it with an ache that echoes through each footfall. Familiar pangs of longing claw at your chest, constricting breaths into fleeting gasps. 

It's as if the very air you breathe carries the weight of an unfinished story, leaving you to navigate the foggy terrain of uncertainty, the poignant residue of an incomplete connection lingering in the spaces between each step.

A tempest of thoughts unleashes in your mind, a whirlwind of self-doubt and abandonment. The notion that he, too, might have slipped away like others before him wraps around your heart, squeezing it in an unforgiving grip. The ache is palpable, resonating through every fiber of your being. It's an anguish that cuts deep, a symphony of hurt orchestrated by the haunting possibility that echoes in the chambers of your wounded heart.

In the intricate tapestry of your time knowing him, he wasn't just a passing figure; he had etched himself into the mosaic of your life, becoming a fragment that held the essence of friendship. 

You step into the sanctuary of your apartment, liberating your feet from the constraints of shoes, and collapse onto the couch, surrendering to its plush contours that cradle you in a cocoon of solace.

In the midst of trying to regain control of your racing breaths, a subtle vibration resonates from your pocket, drawing your attention like a lifeline. Retrieving your phone, you cast an intrigued glance at the illuminated screen, revealing an incoming call from Yuna.

With bated breath, you answer the call, the familiar cadence of Yuna's voice instantly arresting your senses. 

An unexpected wave of emotions surges through you, freezing you in the moment as her words weave a narrative you weren't prepared for.

The weight of her words hangs heavy in the air, a heartbreaking tremor in her voice as she struggles to regain composure. 

“Babe,” she utters, the tearful plea slicing through the silence like a dagger.

You can feel the gravity of the situation intensify as she reveals, “It's Nari,” the name echoing with a sense of foreboding that pierces through the air, leaving you breathless.

Dread hangs thick in the air as you muster the courage to ask, your voice trembling with fear and concern. “What about Nari?” 

The words escape your lips, each syllable a hesitant step into the unknown, and as you sit up on your couch, a sense of urgency grips you, rendering you more alert than ever before.

The weight of Yuna's words crashes over you like an unrelenting wave, drowning your senses.

“She's gone,” Yuna sobs, her cries echoing in your ears. 

A sudden chill grips your entire body, and the world around you blurs as your vision turns white. 

Tears well up, threatening to spill over, and an indescribable ache settles in the core of your being. It feels as if the ground beneath you has shifted, leaving you suspended in a surreal and devastating moment.

Your voice quivers as you manage to break through the numbness, the question escaping your lips like a fragile whisper. 

“How?” you repeat, the word catching in the tightness of your throat. Tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of an ocean, a torrential release of the overwhelming emotions within you. 

Your friend's voice wavers with sorrow as she delivers the painful revelation. “Apparently, she was sick and didn’t tell anybody…” 

Each word, heavy with the burden of the unspoken, echoes in the emptiness of your apartment.

The truth, a bitter pill to swallow, lingers in the air, and you find it hard to comprehend the reality of the situation. 

The walls of your sanctuary, once comforting, now press in on you, transforming your home into a claustrophobic cage of grief. The world outside seems to blur, and all that remains is the weight of disbelief settling on your shoulders.

The longing to share your grief with Yoongi intensifies, yet the barrier of not having his contact details becomes a painful obstacle. Your emotions, already tumultuous, now surge like a tempest within. 

Frustration and sorrow intermingle, a chaotic dance that you try to contain. 

As the weight of the news presses down on you, your nails unconsciously dig into your skin, seeking an outlet for the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume you. The physical pain becomes a tangible manifestation of the emotional turmoil churning within.

The abruptness of Nari's illness and passing hits you like an unforeseen storm, leaving you grappling with disbelief. 

Memories of her last moments flash vividly, and you question the cruel twist of fate that snatched away someone seemingly healthy. The sounds of inconsolable sobbing echo in your ears, and only then do you realize that the mournful cries tearing through the air belong to you. 

“Are you alright?” Yuna asks you in sobs.

The weight of grief presses down on you, suffocating and relentless. 

As the tears stream down your face, each one carries a piece of the pain that now resides within you. 

“No,” you whisper, the word a feeble attempt to encapsulate the magnitude of your despair. 

Your body curls inwards, seeking solace in the fetal position, as if you could fold away the anguish. 

The phone lies beside you, a lifeline to Yuna's distant sobs, but it offers little comfort compared to the absent warmth of Kitten, whose presence could once bring solace to even the darkest moments.

The weight of Yuna's words hangs heavy in the air, a shroud of truth that you're forced to confront. “Babe, she had cancer and didn't want us to know… She wanted to live a happy life until the end,” 

Yuna sobs again, and though her intent is to offer solace, the revelation feels like a cascade of heavy stones on your already burdened heart. The bitter sweetness of her desire for a joyful life juxtaposed with the pain of her silent struggle adds another layer to the grief, leaving you to grapple with the complexities of Nari's hidden battles.

“Yuna…,” you cry, the anguish in your voice echoing the profound pain that seems to squeeze the very life out of your heart. 

“Why does everyone leave?” 

The question hangs in the air, more rhetorical than expectant, as if you're not seeking an answer from Yuna but grappling with the cruel patterns of departure that life has woven into the fabric of your existence. 

Each departure, like a thread pulled from the tapestry of your world, leaves an unraveled piece that never quite knits itself back together.

“I–, I don’t know,” she stammers through her tears, the weight of the unknown echoing in her voice, mirroring the uncertainty that now shrouds both of your lives.

“Promise we’ll be there for each other,” you declare, the weight of the words hanging in the air. It's a poignant plea, an acknowledgment of life's unpredictable twists. You understand that you can't ask for an eternity, but in this moment, you're determined to hold onto each other as tightly as time allows.

“Count on it,” she vows, her response flowing effortlessly, a testament to the unspoken bond between you two.

Despite the tightening in your throat, a glimmer of happiness sparks within you at the assurance she just gave.

Why must life be so fucking cruel, robbing you of everyone you hold dear?

An overwhelming urge to reconnect with your sister washes over you, a deep yearning fueled by the ache of prolonged silence between you.

“I want to call my sister,” you manage to say through your sobs, a desperate plea lacing your words. “Will you be alright, Yuna?” you ask, your concern breaking through the waves of grief that surround you both.

“Yeah. I mean, I'm fucking sad, but go ahead and call her. Can I come to your place tomorrow?” Yuna's voice carries a subtle plea, a shared understanding that neither of you wants to be alone in the midst of sorrow.

“Yeah, I'd love that,” you respond, your voice carrying the weight of grief and the faint glimmer of gratitude for the companionship that awaits tomorrow. As you attempt to dry your tears with a throw blanket on the couch, the room feels emptier than ever, and the ache in your heart persists.

“See you tomorrow,” she says before the call ends. 

The hollowness in the room deepens, and you draw in a shaky breath, your gaze fixed on your phone. The background image captures a moment frozen in time, featuring you, Nari, and Yuna. 

God, the ache of missing her intensifies, and you can't shake the heaviness in your chest.

You tighten your grip on the phone, each tear that escapes your eyes a silent testament to the pain in your heart. Determination wells up as you locate your sister's number, fingers tracing the familiar digits, ready to bridge the gap that time and distance have carved between you.

The rhythmic ringing echoes through the emptiness of your apartment, each tone a reminder of the solitude that now envelops you. 

Anxiety gnaws at the edges of your thoughts as you anticipate the warmth of your sister's voice, a comfort you desperately need. Yet, the unanswered calls amplify the distance that separates you. With a heavy heart, you decide against leaving a message, the weight of unspoken words settling as you slump back onto the couch.

The sudden vibration of your phone startles you, and as you glance at the screen, the sight of your sister's name sparks a mixture of relief and anticipation. With a soft sniffle, you muster the strength to answer, “Hey, sis,” your voice laced with a blend of vulnerability and longing, reaching out across the digital expanse to bridge the emotional gap that separates you.

A chill courses through your body, rendering you motionless, as a deep, resonant voice resonates through the phone, catching you off guard.

“Hey,” his voice echoes through the phone, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Your trembling hand clutches the device, and you find yourself holding your breath, caught in the sudden intensity of the moment.

“I'm Detective Kim,” he introduces himself, his voice echoing through the line. It carries a calm demeanor, yet beneath its surface, you detect a subtle undertone of sadness, adding a mysterious depth to his words.

This can't be good, you murmur to yourself, the words barely escaping your lips as a chill courses through your veins, turning your blood to ice once again.

“Are you Jiho's sister?” The detective's voice remains steady and calm, but beneath the surface, you sense an undercurrent of gravity and anticipation.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice catching in a sob as you struggle to contain your tears. The ominous feeling intensifies, and you can't shake the sinking realization that a detective is the one answering your sister's phone. 

The air becomes heavy with uncertainty and fear.

“I'm deeply sorry to be the bearer of this news,” he begins with a sympathetic tone. 

You inhale sharply, bracing yourself for the impact of the words that follow.

“Your sister has passed away.” 

The world seems to shatter around you as the weight of his message settles in, leaving you breathless and heartbroken.

In that devastating moment, it feels as if the very foundation of your existence crumbles. 

Your body and soul plummet through a void, each passing second an agonizing countdown to the inevitable impact that will shatter you into a million irreparable pieces. 

The weight of grief bears down on you, and you're suspended in a free fall of despair. 

You become acutely aware of your breath, or the lack thereof, as if the air itself has turned into a suffocating force, triggering a torrent of violent inhalations, each one a desperate attempt to grasp onto a reality that has just slipped through your fingers.

A heavy silence envelops the room as the detective imparts the devastating truth, each word landing with the weight of a sledgehammer on your fragile emotions. “She was killed,” he utters, the somber notes in his tone resonating like a funeral dirge, casting a pall over the already dim reality of your world.

A suffocating wave of panic crashes over you, rendering your extremities numb and your breath caught in the grip of invisible hands. 

The room seems to close in as the detective's voice on the phone becomes a distant echo, his words lost in the disorienting whirlwind of your own mental tempest. It's a struggle to comprehend the standard condolences and procedures he details, as if reality itself is slipping through your trembling fingers.

Fucking hell. Is this hell?

In the wake of your parents' departure, you believed you had tasted the bitterest sorrow, yet today eclipses that agony without a shadow of a doubt.

You cast your phone aside on the couch, retreating to your bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. The anguish within erupts into violent sobs, an unrelenting torrent of tears flooding from your eyes, your entire frame convulsing with the weight of your grief.

You bury your face into the softness of the pillow, muffling the guttural scream that tears from your lungs. 

The sound, a primal release of anguish, reverberates within the confines of your room. Screw the neighbors; right now, the universe needs to bear witness to the rawness of your pain.

What the fuck is up with this world? Everyone around you dies! Everyone leaves!

You can’t take it anymore.

As you surrender to the torrents of grief, you hope that tears might offer solace, a fleeting relief that could pave the way for much-needed sleep. Yet, despite your desperate attempts, the embrace of slumber eludes you, leaving you trapped in the clutches of your sorrow-soaked thoughts.

In an impulsive surge, you opt for a nocturnal stroll. Snatching your jacket, you step into the silent night, the residue of dried tears blending seamlessly with the ones that refuse to cease. 

The moon above, a silent witness to the turmoil within, as your footsteps echo the rhythm of a heart weighed down by grief.

As you traverse the familiar streets of town, a magnetic pull guiding you to a cherished park, your sanctuary. Swiftly, you arrive and gingerly settle your weary frame onto a weathered bench, the cool night air offering a gentle caress to your battered soul.

As your gaze ascends to the enchanting tapestry of the night, a celestial dance of stars unfolds above. Tonight, the cosmic expanse seems to cradle the spirits of your sister and Nari, their luminous presence illuminating the vast darkness, a celestial reunion among the constellations.

As your tears persist, you fix your eyes upon the star-lit canvas above. Each gleaming star appears like a radiant jewel, casting an ethereal glow across the night. The beauty is undeniable, yet a poignant sadness lingers in your heart. 

Compelled by an unspoken yearning, you embark on the solemn task of counting the stars, each one a celestial tribute to the cherished souls who now adorn the heavens. 

The question echoes in your mind: Why?

Why do they blaze with such brilliance, akin to a dying star igniting in a final, magnificent burst before consuming everything in its cosmic embrace?

Your heart pounds violently against your ribcage, each beat echoing through your chest, and the air feels elusive, slipping away as if you're caught in a suffocating grip.

Life reveals its cruel nature, leaving you to grapple with the relentless question: Why does everyone leave? Why does the world around you crumble, stealing away those you hold dear?

An emptiness envelopes you, a void so profound it swallows every ounce of light. Darkness creeps in, and an irresistible urge emerges, coaxing you to surrender to its consuming embrace.

Perhaps it's time to release your grip on reality and join the celestial dance of those who have departed before you?

As the tears flow, perhaps this haunting void within will dissipate, bringing an end to the relentless ache that permeates every fiber of your being.

As the weight of loneliness bears down on you, an insidious desire to surrender, to slip into an eternal slumber, creeps through your shattered heart. The yearning for an endless sleep, where the fractured pieces of your soul find solace, consumes you. It's as if the very essence of your being is crumbling into irreparable fragments.

The fragments of your soul lie scattered, and the daunting question echoes in the hollow chambers of your despair—can you summon the strength to mend them once more, to piece together the shattered remnants of your being?

In the depths of your despair, a resolute realization surfaces — a quiet but unwavering knowing that, despite the relentless cruelty, you're not ready to surrender to the void. Life, as brutal as it may be, still holds threads of resilience within its intricate tapestry, and you find an ember of strength glowing amidst the shadows.

You divert your gaze downward, focusing on your hands nestled in your lap, choosing the tangible reality of your own existence over the distant allure of the star-studded night.

You harbor too many aspirations to surrender to despair. Your desires paint a vivid canvas of dreams: to find solace in the embrace of a kind-hearted partner, secure a fulfilling career, and relish the simple joys that life offers. Nari's silent battle with illness inspires you to embrace life with the same gusto, celebrating its moments without the need for validation.

In the midst of your fragmented existence, amidst the shattering pain, you crave it all. Yearning for the entirety of life's tapestry, even when it feels like it's unraveling. 

Despite life's cruelty, there's an undeniable allure in its intricate beauty, compelling you to seek solace and embrace the stunning contradictions that define your life.

Amidst the tear-stained path, your resolve solidifies. 

The decision made, you tread back to your apartment, the silent witness to your inner turmoil. Each step echoes with the weight of your emotions, a symphony of sorrow playing in the background. 

The sanctuary of your home beckons, promising the respite that only sleep, albeit restless, can bring. Sleep, like a long-lost friend, embraces you swiftly this time. Grateful for the solace it brings, you sink into its comforting arms, the reprieve from the turmoil of the day unfolding like a gentle lullaby.

The chime of the doorbell resonates through your apartment, and you're roused from the depths of sleep. Yuna, true to her word, stands on the other side, a beacon of support in your time of need.

Embraced in a tight hug, tears stream down both your faces, the shared weight of grief transforming the silent embrace into a powerful testament of mutual understanding and shared sorrow.

Seated on the couch, you engage in a heartfelt conversation about the unpredictable journey of life—its highs and lows. 

As a comforting silence settles between you, you reach for the remote and, with a flicker of distraction, decide on a mindless show. Wrapped in the embrace of shared grief, you find solace in the soft glow of the television, its images casting a gentle veil over your weary souls.

That night, Yuna stays over, a comforting presence that feels like a blessing in the midst of your overwhelming grief.

In the vulnerable hours of the night, you pour your heart out to Yuna. 

Tears flow freely as you share the ache of losing your sister, the void left by Kitten's absence, and the fear that Yoongi might be gone forever. In the solace of shared sorrow, you find a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows.

In the tender embrace of Yuna, you find solace. Her comforting presence is a lifeline in the storm of grief, holding you close as tears cascade. Though she's often your pillar of strength, tonight you yearn to reciprocate, to be the support she's always been for you. It's a quiet understanding, an unspoken pact between friends navigating the unpredictable currents of life.

In the quiet depths of the night, as you share your pain with Yuna, a flicker of determination ignites within you. You yearn not just for solace but to become the architect of your own joy. The realization dawns that your happiness lies in the unwritten chapters of your own journey, waiting to be explored and embraced. It's a moment of self-discovery, a commitment to forge your path to happiness, independent and resilient.

With the dawn of a new day, you decide to embark on a journey of self-discovery. 

Despite the weight of sorrow lingering in your chest, you resolve to savor life in all its transient splendor—embracing its beauty, acknowledging its ugliness, and reveling in every nuanced shade in between. 

Each moment becomes a canvas, and you are determined to paint it with the vibrant strokes of resilience and newfound appreciation.

With unwavering determination, you approached your boss at the café, advocating for a shift in your work hours. The goal? To rekindle the pursuit of knowledge, to step back into the world of academia and reignite the spark of astrophysics that had once fueled your passion. 

As the prospect of returning to school looms on the horizon, you recognize that the journey ahead is both a challenge and an opportunity—a chance to sculpt a future that you can genuinely be proud of, with each completed course marking a triumph over self-doubt and a step closer to the constellations of your dreams.

In the wake of that poignant night where two cherished souls departed, a few months have quietly slipped away. 

In a tender gesture of support, Yuna encourages you to embrace the prospect of love once more. Unlike before, hesitation has no place in your heart this time. 

With newfound courage, you step into the realm of dating, a journey tinged with both vulnerability and hope, as you navigate through the tapestry of emotions woven by the threads of the past and the promises of the future.

Life, a relentless journey, doesn't yield to simplicity, yet within its intricate folds, a subtle transformation occurs. It doesn't unravel swiftly, but with each passing day, it stitches together a mosaic of improvement, a gradual emergence from the shadows into the dappled light of a better tomorrow.

With each sunrise, a symphony of healing orchestrates within you, crescendoing into a melody that resonates louder, and you find solace in the fact that every dawn gifts you a version of yourself stronger and more resilient than the preceding day.

As winter unfurls its icy embrace, you find solace in the familiar touch of your cherished wool coat, the cozy sanctuary of fluffy sweaters enveloping you like a hug from a dear friend, and the softness of warm socks cradling your every step. 

With a steaming cup of tea in hand, you dive into your studies, the brisk air outside contrasting with the warmth that courses through your veins.

Embarking on the journey to reclaim an unfinished chapter of your life, returning to the hallowed halls of academia, you revel in the triumphant echoes of resilience as you strive to complete the narrative you once set in motion.

As you tread homeward, the city draped in the melancholy hues of twilight, a fleeting silhouette dashes through the alleys, a phantom of darkness. 

For the briefest moment, memories of Kitten's playful escapades dance in your mind, a bittersweet symphony of nostalgia. 

A sigh, heavy with the weight of longing, escapes your lips, yet you trudge forward, navigating the shadows toward the warmth of your home.

In the intimate glow of your kitchen, you conjure a culinary masterpiece, a symphony of flavors orchestrated only for yourself. The sizzle of ingredients harmonizes with the rhythmic beat of your heart, a ritual of self-love that has become your refuge. 

Many a time, you've crafted these delectable creations, some shared in the company of fleeting dates whose presence, like autumn leaves, brushed briefly against the canvas of your life, but leaving no lasting imprint on your heart.

Midway through the mundane task of stowing away dishes, a subtle and mysterious hum reverberates through your abode, originating from the vicinity of your door.

The air is suddenly filled with a familiar, distant melody—a soft and rhythmic meowing that sends a jolt of excitement through you. 

Abandoning your chores, you rush to the door, fingers fumbling with the lock, and there, in all his glory, stands Kitten!

In a flurry of warmth and relief, you scoop up the cold, shivering Kitten into your embrace, quickly closing the door behind him. His meows echo gratitude, and a tender lick against your cheek seals the unspoken bond that time and distance failed to break.

In a million moments, you never fathomed seeing him again. Now, as he rests in your arms, elation courses through you like a celestial symphony, leaving you over the moon with sheer happiness.

His return is a testament to a bond beyond time, a friendship that defies the measure of days. It's not about the duration of his absence; it's about the joyous truth that he returned to you, stitching the fragments of your heart back together.

You rush to your cabinet, your heart pounding with both relief and excitement. Grabbing a can of cat food, you swiftly prepare a feast for Kitten, watching as he eagerly devours the meal, his hunger echoing the void his absence left in your life.

As you stroke Kitten's fur, you can't help but ponder on the mysteries that shroud his disappearance. His body, while not emaciated, carries the silent tales of his adventures. 

You yearn to unravel the chapters of his feline escapades, wishing you could converse with him, share the unspoken hardships, and assure him that he's found a forever home in the warmth of your embrace.

In a breathless whisper, you confess, “I've missed you so much,” the weight of your longing carried in the tenderness of your voice. 

A solitary tear, a testament to the emotions flooding your heart, escapes and dances down your cheek, mirroring the joy of a reunion long yearned for.

As the echoes of your affectionate words linger in the air, Kitten responds with a gentle purr, a harmonious melody that intertwines seamlessly with the sound of him relishing the meal.

Amidst the soft cadence of Kitten's purring, you find solace in the familiar presence of your feline companion. With a sigh, you decide to share the intricacies of the tumultuous journey you've undertaken since his absence. “So much has unfolded, Kitten,” you whisper, your voice a gentle reassurance, “a lot of shit, but also a lot of good.”

As Kitten finishes his meal, he responds with a symphony of content purrs, gracefully padding over to where you crouch. With a playful nudge against your legs, he seems to convey a silent acknowledgment, a shared moment of warmth and connection between old friends.

In the span of a few days, the void that Kitten's absence left has been filled with the comforting rhythm of his presence. You've poured out your heart to him, recounting the events and emotions that unfolded during his time away, as if catching him up on the chapters of your life. 

Kitten, with his attentive eyes and soothing purrs, seems to understand more than most, providing a silent anchor in the storm of your experiences.

As you sink into the soft embrace of your couch, a contented smile plays on your lips. With Kitten nestled beside you, you share a profound realization that has taken root in your heart: ‘I live, so I love.’ The words hang in the air, a testament to the resilience you've found in the face of life's unpredictable twists. The TV hums with background noise, but in that moment, the simple joy of companionship fills the room.

In the quiet solitude of your apartment, you confide in Kitten, the loyal companion who has witnessed both your joys and sorrows. “I don't think he's coming back,” you murmur, a tinge of sadness lingering in your voice. As if attuned to your emotions, Kitten responds with a gentle meow, a feline reassurance that transcends words. 

In the rhythmic cadence of your words, a sense of vulnerability emerges. “I know, I know. I don't need a man in my life. I get that,” you confess, your voice carrying the weight of self-awareness.

The clinking of utensils against pots and pans provides a subtle percussion to your thoughts as you continue, “But Yoongi was special, you know? Like he just got me... and I just wish for him to be happy doing whatever he's doing.” The aroma of dinner fills the air, mingling with the unspoken sentiments swirling in the room.

As you delicately feed Kitten some steamed broccoli, the notion of reuniting with Yoongi lingers in the air. “If he comes back, you should meet him – I'll introduce you!” The words spill from your lips, carrying a hopeful melody.

As you reminisce about Yoongi, a fond smile plays on your lips. “He's such a wonderful person. And handsome? Oh, his hands,” you begin, tracing the air with your fingers as if you can feel the texture of his presence. Memories flood back, each detail etched in your mind like a cherished photograph. “Long fingers, veiny hands,” you murmur, the words infused with a hint of admiration that even surprises you. The love for this man reverberates in your voice, a quiet confession to the depths of your feelings.

Kitten's melodic meow serenades the room as he gracefully weaves between your feet, his tail coiling affectionately around your calves like a comforting embrace.

“If you meet him, please don’t claw his back out like you did with that other guy. Yoongi is nice.”

With a heavy heart, you confide in Kitten, the weight of your worry evident in the rhythmic tapping of the spatula against the sizzling vegetables. “It's been nearly half a year, and I can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him,” you murmur, the crackling sounds of the kitchen offering a somber backdrop to your uncertainty.

As the warmth of the meal envelops you and Kitten, you sit together, a silent companionship settling over the room. The simplicity of this moment strikes you, and a quiet realization unfolds – you love your life just as it is. 

In the shared silence, you feel a sense of wholeness, a testimony to the goodness found in life's simplicity. Though your heart may still ache at times, you've come to accept that, too, as a part of the beautiful complexity that makes life what it is.

You're keenly aware that time is the remedy for healing, a gentle but persistent force that gradually eases the ache until one day, the pain will be a distant echo of what it once was.

Your weary limbs protest against the demands of a full-time class schedule and cafe shifts, revealing the hidden challenges of your daily grind. Fatigue clings to you like a shadow, and an involuntary yawn escapes.

With a wearied sigh, you address Kitten, your loyal companion in fatigue. “Ah, Kitten, today's been a battle. I'm going to bed early today,” you murmur, dragging your exhausted body to the bathroom in a nightly ritual. 

Upon returning to your sanctuary, you find Kitten, already nestled in his customary spot, a comforting presence in the silent embrace of the night.

Sinking beneath the cozy duvet, you surrender to its tender embrace, the fabric cocooning you in a haven of softness. With a gentle pat, you acknowledge Kitten, “Thank you for being here,” you murmur before succumbing to the enchantment of dreamland.

As consciousness tiptoes back into your awareness, the remnants of dreams linger like elusive whispers in your mind. Gently awakening, you open your eyes to find the absence of Kitten.

Your eyes widen in astonishment, and your body tenses as you absorb the scene unfolding before you—a man, peacefully lost in the realm of dreams. 

Your gaze follows the cascade of long, slightly curly, obsidian hair that drapes over his shoulders, tracing the contours of his creamy white skin. The play of morning light reveals a well-defined back, drawing your eyes down the elegant curve of his spine until they come to rest on a small, soft, plum-like ass. The realization hits you like a bolt— he's completely naked!

Why is your heart orchestrating a rapid symphony, each beat echoing in your ears like a thunderous drumroll? And what in the world is a naked stranger doing sprawled across your sheets as though he belongs there?

He slumbers in serene oblivion, emitting soft, melodic sighs that weave through the air, his chest gracefully ascending and descending in rhythmic dance with each tranquil breath.

Wait. 

He seems familiar.

A gasp escapes your lips as you take a closer look, and the realization hits you like a bolt of lightning – it's Yoongi! 

Shock and disbelief intertwine in your chest as you stare at his peaceful slumber.

Confusion and a hint of panic surge through you as your mind races with questions. 

Why is Yoongi in your bed, and why on earth is he naked?

How did Yoongi end up here, and where is Kitten?

A myriad of questions spins through your mind, a turbulent storm of curiosity. As you ponder the mysteries, you belatedly notice Yoongi stirring, gracefully shifting to lie on his back.

Your face burns with embarrassment as the realization dawns that he's still completely naked. Heat rises to your cheeks when his half-erect dick brushes against his stomach, prompting you to instinctively shield your eyes, flustered by the unexpected sight.

You wrestle with the dilemma of whether to disturb his serene slumber or let him continue resting peacefully. The soft innocence in his sleeping form makes the decision more challenging, and you lean towards allowing him to bask in the tranquility of his dreams undisturbed.

Gently, you drape the comforting warmth of your duvet over him, a shield against the chill of the room. With nimble movements, you extract yourself from the bed, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of his slumber.

Confusion seizes your thoughts as you grapple with the surreal scenario—Yoongi peacefully nestled in your bed. You wrack your brain, questioning every sober memory, desperately trying to unearth the missing pieces that would explain his presence.

You step into the kitchen, a fleeting sense of unease prickling at your skin as you scan the room for Kitten, but he remains elusive, leaving a trace of uncertainty in the air.

A twinge of melancholy washes over you as Kitten remains elusive, but you console yourself with the hope that he might return, his absence merely a temporary void in your otherwise comforting routine.

You embark on the simple yet intimate act of preparing two steaming cups of coffee—one for yourself and one for the unexpected visitor who occupies your bed.

You seize a handful of aromatic coffee beans from a vintage jar, letting the rich fragrance envelop you as you crush them under the steady hum of your machine. With precision, you measure out the perfect amount, combining it with hot water, allowing the concoction to brew into a comforting elixir.

While the coffee brews, your mind races with bewildering thoughts about Yoongi's unexpected presence in your bed. Puzzlement clouds your senses as you contemplate every conceivable scenario. 

Did he let himself in? Was there some mysterious way he could have gained access? 

With a touch of anxiety, you even venture to your front door, checking for any signs of unauthorized entry, only to find it securely locked, shrouded in an eerie silence.

You're grappling with the perplexing mystery of Yoongi's appearance in your bed, as if he materialized out of thin air, defying all logic and reason, leaving you spellbound by the inexplicable magic that seems to have woven its way into your ordinary reality.

In the quiet chaos of your thoughts, Yoongi's presence offers more questions than answers, an enigmatic puzzle that seems to defy the ordinary. The absence of Kitten only adds another layer of mystery to the unfolding scene. 

As the coffee machine dings, disrupting the contemplative silence, you're left grappling with the surreal conundrum before you, seeking clarity in the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

With the warmth of freshly brewed coffee in your hands, you reenter the bedroom to discover Yoongi, now alert, draped in your duvet, a captivating silhouette in the soft morning light.

Your greeting falters as you nervously stammer, “H–, Hi,” setting the two mugs of coffee on your nightstand. Yoongi's gaze, sharp and feline-like, traces your every move, creating a palpable tension in the air.

An unfamiliar nervousness grips you in his presence, an unusual sensation considering your usual ease around him. Perhaps it's the fact that he's naked, his gaze akin to a predator eyeing down its prey, intensifying the air with an unspoken tension.

“Hey,” finally breaking the silence, he greets you with a low grumble, scratching his head and letting out a lazy yawn.

His body exudes a captivating blend of softness and defined muscles, a captivating sight that—

His voice, laced with a teasing smirk, breaks the tension. “Can't stop staring at my dick, huh?”

Your throat tightens as you realize you've been caught in the act, silently observing him. Panic sets in – does he think you're a freak now? Fantastic.

You let out a nervous chuckle, deliberately shifting your gaze away from the obvious bulge in the duvet around his lap. “What are you doing here, Yoongi? And why are you naked?” you inquire, genuinely puzzled.

He chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a tinge of unease. “You haven't figured it out yet?” he teases, his words hanging in the air, leaving you in suspense.

You must resemble a walking question mark, because his chuckles only intensify. It's as if he finds your confusion amusing, and you're left standing there, desperate for answers in the midst of his enigmatic laughter.

In a soft tone laced with a smirk, he utters, “Kitten.”

Your gaze fixates on him, bewildered. Kitten? Is he referring to your cat?

Your jaw drops as he gracefully emerges from the bed, the duvet cascading off his frame. In his unabashed nudity, he strides toward you.

He inches closer, the proximity almost causing your lips to collide. A surge of warmth courses through you when he delicately tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I’m a shapeshifter,” his revelation hangs in the air, the weight of it palpable, and as he locks eyes with you, searching for any flicker of discomfort, the truth settles. Before you can process it fully, he leans in, capturing your lips with an irresistible surge of passion.

His lips, soft and inviting, embark on a slow yet passionate dance, as if reuniting with a long-lost lover. Responding eagerly, you part your lips, allowing the kiss to deepen, and in that electrifying moment, your entire body succumbs to a sensation akin to melting butter.

You yield to his touch, molding your body to his as you sense the undeniable hardness of his arousal intimately pressing against your core.

Fuck.

In the midst of the heated moment, you draw back slightly to meet his gaze, the question hanging in the air, “So... you're Kitten?”

He offers no verbal response, just a low, affirmative hum, before plunging back into another intoxicating kiss.

You surrender to the sensation, feeling the firm grip of his hands on your waist as they journey upward beneath the fabric of your well-worn shirt.

His touch ignites a trail of sensations, tracing a path across your body, sending electric shivers as he lifts your shirt, gently grazing against the contours of your breasts.

Under the intensity of his gaze, your body responds, a flush of heat spreading through you, your nipples hardening in response. He emits a low, satisfied hum, as if relishing the effect he has on you.

Effortlessly, he works to level the playing field, swiftly undressing you as if in a race against time. With a purposeful tug, he eases your shorts down, a silent declaration of his desire.

Bare before him, clad only in a simple black panty adorned with delicate pink hearts, you can't shake the vulnerability coursing through you. A sudden urge to conceal yourself washes over, a reaction to the raw exposure in this intimate moment.

“Don't shy away, you're stunning,” Yoongi murmurs, his firm grip on your hips drawing you closer to his naked body. The undeniable heat of his arousal presses against your core, a tangible reminder of the desire smoldering between you.

Gratitude escapes your lips in a hushed tone, your cheeks tinged with a warm blush.

“Now, let’s get these off you, yeah?” with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he hooks his fingers inside the fabric of your panties, teasingly tugging them down. He pauses, seeking your consent, before sensually sliding them all the way down your legs.

As he slides your panties down, a sudden awareness of your arousal hits you, intensified by the cool rush of air against your heated core.

As they fall to the floor, Yoongi swiftly snatches up your panties, bringing them to his face to inhale the intoxicating essence of your arousal, his eyes darkening with desire.

Why does that look so utterly sinful, setting off a delicious rush of arousal coursing through your veins, leaving you breathless in its wake?

As the intoxicating scent of you envelops him, he murmurs, “Damn, you smell good,” his eyes dilating with an unmistakable hunger.

“I wonder if you taste as good as you smell.”

In the raw vulnerability of your shared nakedness, he guides your body back to the bed, gently laying you down, his presence a magnetic force, hovering above you.

He immerses himself in the expanse of your neck, a symphony of sensations unfolding – a delicate ballet of tender kisses, followed by the electrifying nip of his teeth grazing the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

You moan in unabashed pleasure, your hands instinctively seeking refuge on his chiseled pectorals, anchoring yourself amidst the rising waves of bliss.

Yoongi's gaze shifts to the mirror positioned strategically in front of your bed. “I've been meaning to ask,” he smirks, locking eyes with you, “why do you have a mirror in front of your bed?”

You squirm beneath him, breath catching.”'It's part of my wardrobe panels,” you admit, your voice a fragile melody.

He chuckles, a low and enticing sound, his smirk dancing on his lips. “I don't think that's why the whole panel is mirrors,” he says, sitting up slightly. His finger traces a slow, teasing path from your collarbones to your breasts, sending shivers of anticipation racing through your body.

He leans in, his breath sending a shiver down your spine, and in a deep, low voice, he murmurs into your ear, “You're a dirty one, aren't you?”

His degrading words make your breath hitch instantly, and you involuntarily clench your thighs together. As you shake your head in disagreement, he just smirks, unconvinced.

His chuckle resonates in the room as he asks, “Do you enjoy watching yourself in the mirrors?” Sitting up, he moves to the foot of the bed, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark.

He gracefully steps out of the bed, casting a predatory gaze as he hovers over you, an aura of irresistible allure surrounding him.

With unwavering determination, he declares, “You're going to watch yourself in the mirror as I fuck your pussy with my tongue.” In a single, fluid motion, he seizes both of your thighs, pulling you to the foot of the bed, sending a thrilling jolt through your senses.

Despite the heat coursing through your entire being, a light chuckle escapes your lips. However, the mirth dissipates as you lock eyes with the intensity in Yoongi's dark gaze.

“Sit up,” his command echoes through the room, and as he gracefully lowers himself between your legs, a thrilling anticipation courses through the air.

From your elevated position, you admire the tousled chaos of his hair, a disheveled masterpiece that only enhances his captivating allure. His eyes gleam with a mischievous spark, a silent promise of the intensity that is about to unfold.

You seize his cheeks with urgency, your voice dripping with desire, a fervent plea escaping your lips, “Fuck. Yoongi, please eat me out.”

He moistens his lips with a teasing chuckle, descending eagerly towards your already soaked center.

He expertly widens the gap between your legs, creating a perfect haven for himself before delving into your pussy with fervent devotion.

With a tantalizing finesse, he starts with a subtle stroke of his tongue along your folds, gradually ascending to the apex of your clit, eliciting a fervent moan that echoes in the room.

As waves of pleasure cascade through you, your fingers instinctively entwine in his tousled locks, gently pulling as he skillfully devotes his attention to the exquisite dance of his tongue and lips on your pulsating core.

Gasping for breath, your anticipation mounts, every nerve tingling with pleasure, as Yoongi's rhythmic strokes across your intimate folds propel you toward a climax, your toes curling in ecstasy.

Pausing momentarily, he murmurs in appreciation, “You taste even better than you smell, Kitten,” his words sending a shiver down your spine.

You're on the verge of asking him about the nickname ‘Kitten,’ but his tongue explores your folds, leaving you breathless and unable to form words.

Your question dissolves in the heat of the moment, the building climax taking center stage as you lose yourself in the pursuit of pleasure.

Lost in the waves of ecstasy, you can't resist the urge to surrender, closing your eyes as Yoongi works his magic with undeniable expertise.

“No, no, no. Look at yourself in the mirror, Kitten.”

“Why do—” before you can finish your question, it fades away on your tongue as Yoongi plunges back into pleasuring your core with a renewed intensity, leaving your thoughts swallowed by the whirlwind of sensations.

As you glance at the mirror, you catch a glimpse of your own blissful expression, framed by Yoongi's tousled black hair nestled between your thighs. The sight is nothing short of breathtaking, a sight of pleasure that leaves you utterly captivated.

The provocative scene unfolding in the mirror intensifies your arousal, your breath hitching in tandem with the escalating desire pulsating through your veins.

“Yoongi, I’m—” your plea catches in your throat as Yoongi skillfully responds, his hand finding your pulsating clit, heightening the pleasure while he continues to ravish you with his insatiable tongue.

His fingers dance in rhythmic circles over your throbbing clit, coaxing the tension from your core. As the knot unravels, a wave of blissful release washes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake.

Ecstasy courses through your veins, your toes curling, muscles tightening, and in that moment, an unexpected surge of pleasure hits you like a sneeze that never comes. You release a symphony of moans, surrendering to the intense climax that Yoongi skillfully orchestrates with his talented tongue.

He continues to suck, savoring every drop of your essence, an insatiable thirst in his eyes matching the fervor of the intimate dance between your bodies.

As the intensity peaks, you gently tap his shoulder, signaling him to withdraw. He complies with a sensual slurp, leaving you breathless and tingling with the echoes of pleasure.

A mischievous grin stretches across his face as he licks his lips, “You're incredible, Kitten.”

You arch an eyebrow, curiosity coloring your tone, “Why do you keep calling me ‘Kitten’? You’re Kitten.”

He erupts in laughter, a symphony that resonates through the room, his chest rising and falling with the melody of mirth, and in that moment, he's a captivating masterpiece.

“Do I really look like a Kitten to you?” he inquires, a playful glint in his eyes as he gently nudges you back onto the bed.

Your words stumble as you search for a response, “Not really,” you admit, offering him a small yet tender smile.

“But you look cute and sweet, like a good Kitten,” he murmurs, his hands exploring the curves of your breasts.

A low moan escapes your lips as he teases your nipples with a playful twist, igniting a fresh surge of desire that pools in the growing heat between your thighs.

As you ache for the feel of his throbbing length, you attempt to grab hold of him, but like a fleeting mirage, he skillfully eludes your touch, leaving you yearning for the intimate connection that inches away with each evasive movement.

“Nah. I just want to fuck you silly,” he rasps, eyes tracing every bead of sweat on your flushed skin, reveling in the primal rhythm of your hurried breaths.

“If you want to, that is?” he teases, his voice a sultry whisper, as he takes control, guiding himself between your legs with a confident hand that promises a morning full of pleasure.

As you feel the weight of his gaze, you gulp, wondering how, in that heated moment, he could question what you crave. It's undeniable – you want him, and the intensity of your desire hangs in the air between you, palpable and unspoken.

Your breath catches as you respond, the words tumbling from your lips in a heated rush, “Fuck, yes, Yoongi. I want you inside me, now,” the urgency in your voice betraying the intensity of your desire.

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as he replies, “Please” with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“‘Please’ what?”

“Say ‘please’.”

You huff, incredulous at his audacity. The desire in his eyes is undeniable, and he seems to enjoy the game. Part of you rebels, tempted to be a brat just to irk him, but the need for his touch overrides any resistance. You crave his intimacy, aching for his dick despite the defiance lingering in the air.

“Fuck this,” you grumble, frustration evident in your voice. In that fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of Yoongi pulling back, as if reconsidering his stance.

“Please! Don’t leave,” you plead desperately, your sincerity laid bare. The smirk on his face deepens, as if savoring the intensity of your plea.

“Please fuck me, Yoongi.”

His satisfaction evident, he rewards you with a swift kiss before aligning himself with your eager entrance, anticipation humming in the air.

Your arousal has reached a point where there's no discomfort, just a perfect fit as he slides into you, your wetness welcoming and enveloping him seamlessly.

He hisses as he eases into your warm, tight walls, and you can feel him doing his best to restrain himself.

You release a breathy huff as he fully penetrates, his balls gently meeting the warmth of your folds.

He lets out a guttural groan as he steadies himself, withdrawing only to plunge back in with an intensity that sends shivers through your body.

In this intimate position, with him above you, every nuance of his pleasure is on full display—the way his nose scrunches in delight, his soft lips occasionally nibbling the bottom one in sheer ecstasy.

Between each thrust, he can't help but express his amazement, his voice low and husky, “Damn. You're so tight.”

You know. It’s been awhile. 

As he moves within you with an increased rhythm, his hands find your breasts, skillfully massaging them in sync with his fervent thrusts, creating a symphony of pleasure that courses through your entire body.

Ecstasy courses through you, and in the midst of your fervent pleasure, you can't help but release a breathless exclamation, “Fuck, Yoongi!”

Every skillful thrust seems to find its mark, synchronized with the enticing dance of his fingers on your hardened nipples. Pleasure envelops you, clouding your thoughts in a haze of ecstasy.

Your pleasure intensifies as Yoongi skillfully pinches your nipples, eliciting a symphony of moans that harmonize with the rhythmic dance of his passionate thrusts.

Sensations ripple through you, and the desire to reciprocate Yoongi's pleasure builds within you. You yearn to give him the same ecstasy he's generously bestowed upon you.

Amidst the rhythmic cadence of Yoongi's thrusts, a bold request escapes your lips. Your gaze, laced with desire, meets his, and with a subtle plea in your eyes, you softly murmur, “Yoongi—, I want to ride you. Please.”

With a devilish grin, Yoongi withdraws from your embrace, reclining on the bed, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.

His voice, laced with desire, sends shivers down your spine as he commands, “Then you're gonna watch in the mirrors as you fuck yourself on my dick,” reclining with his head angled towards the mirrors.

Mounting him, you position yourself strategically, both of you reflected in the mirror—a tantalizing image of entangled limbs, the intensity of the moment etched in your heaving, sweat-glistened bodies.

Grasping his throbbing dick, he hisses in anticipation as you deftly align your eager entrance with his cock.

With a fluid motion, you descend onto his rigid cock, your velvet walls enveloping him in a tight, intoxicating embrace.

From below, Yoongi savors the view, his gaze lingering on the contours of your face, as if committing every detail to memory.

You guide the rhythm, your hands finding stability on his sculpted chest, setting the pace as you ride him with a mix of determination and desire.

Your movements cascade, a slow dance that gradually builds momentum, each rise and fall carrying a symphony of pleasure and anticipation.

As you gaze upon your reflection, the flush of arousal paints your cheeks, your disheveled hair framing your face like an unruly halo, and your breasts dance in perfect harmony with the rhythm of your passionate movements.

The person in the mirror seems like a stranger, a sensual revelation you never knew existed within you. The mirrors, always present but never before utilized for sex, now reflect a version of yourself that’s both thrilling and new.

Heat courses through your veins, an intoxicating blend of arousal and empowerment, as you observe your own uninhibited reflection. With newfound vigor, you escalate the rhythm, riding Yoongi more vigorously. His appreciative groans and tender gaze mirror the intensity of the moment.

Unbridled desire takes over as your hands instinctively find their way to Yoongi's neck. Without a conscious thought, your fingers glide over the warmth of his skin, gently encircling his throat.

An electrifying jolt courses through you as you sense Yoongi's involuntary twitch within you, and you catch the ragged rhythm of his breath.

Panic courses through you, and you hastily retract your hands, realizing with a shock that you had unintentionally exerted pressure on Yoongi's throat. “Oh my God! I'm so sorry!” you blurt out, your apology a mix of concern and embarrassment.

“It's fine, Kitten. I like it,” he reassures you with a devilish grin, seizing your hands and guiding them back around his neck, his eyes sparking with a hint of mischief.

You shoot him a concerned glance, pausing your movements to ensure he's okay. Once he reassures you with a nod, signaling his approval, you dive back into the rhythm you had before.

With a newfound boldness, you tighten your grip around his throat, drawing out another satisfying twitch from him. His reaction sends a surge of pleasure through you as he hits that sweet spot, causing a kaleidoscope of sensations that make you see stars.

Your unrestrained moans fill the room, a symphony of desire that intertwines with the rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding. The sight of Yoongi unraveling beneath your touch fuels a primal arousal, and you revel in the raw passion that courses through every fiber of your being.

“Fuck!” you pant.

“I’m gonna come,” you confess, the words escaping on a ragged breath, as you impale yourself on his dick. You’re body trembling as you hold the moment, savoring the anticipation before the inevitable plunge into ecstasy.

With a tender touch, you withdraw your hands from his throat, leaning down to kiss him. Your lips meet his in a dance of passion, tracing a path from his mouth to the very spots your fingers had claimed on his neck moments ago.

His low, guttural groan harmonizes with the rhythm as you ascend, reclaiming your perch on him. The dance begins anew, your body moving with purpose, riding the waves of pleasure set in motion by each calculated bounce on his throbbing length.

Yoongi's hands eagerly envelop your breasts, his fingers dancing with the rhythm of your fervent movements. With each descent onto him, you feel a surge of pleasure building, the shared pursuit of ecstasy driving you both towards the brink of blissful release.

His fingers deftly find your sensitive nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. The sensation is so intense that a fractured, high-pitched man escapes your lips, your back arching involuntarily in the exquisite dance of pleasure and pain.

As your walls instinctively clench around his pulsating dick, you witness the pleasure etched across his face, a delightful scrunching of his features that mirrors the ecstasy coursing through both of you.

“Yoongi, I’m com—,” you gasp, a desperate plea laced in your voice. Your words are unnecessary; the vice-like grip of your walls and the erratic cadence of your breath already convey the impending release that hangs thick in the air.

“Come all over my dick,” he smirks through a groan, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Watch yourself fall apart in the mirror.”

How can this man ignite such an intense flame within you? The knot in your stomach tightens once more, and as you surrender to it, a primal, drawn-out moan escapes your lips, echoing the depths of your desire.

With unyielding eyes, you lock onto your own reflection in the mirror as ecstasy courses through you, marking the moment you climax on his d*ck. Your rhythmic bouncing falters, but Yoongi, sensing your need, seizes your hips and propels the pace, driving you deeper into the intoxicating whirlwind of pleasure.

Your mouth hangs open, breaths rapid and erratic, akin to the aftermath of a sprint, while every inch of your body throbs with the residual heat of a fervent blaze.

“So beautiful—FUCK!” he moans, powering into you with an astonishing velocity, sending shivers down your spine.

His hold on your hips tightens, your hands finding refuge on his sculpted chest for support. Your body teeters on the edge of weightlessness and grounding, as if you'd unravel if Yoongi's firm grasp on your hips faltered.

Despite the fatigue washing over you, a surge of determination courses through your veins. Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you entwine your fingers around his neck once more. You sense the impending release in Yoongi's every movement, and you're determined to be the catalyst that propels him over the edge.

The moment your grip tightens around his throat, a powerful surge reverberates through his dick within you, sending intoxicating waves of pleasure coursing through your body. It's an electrifying sensation, making every touch between you more intense and satisfying.

With an intense squeeze, you lock eyes with Yoongi, a plea in your gaze. “Fill me up, Yoongi.”

In a primal release, he surrenders to the moment, thrusting into you with an erratic rhythm, coating your walls with the warmth of his climax.

“Ahh,” he pants, the rush of air filling his lungs as you release your grip on his neck, both of you engulfed in the aftermath of shared release.

You watch him in amazement as his fervent thrusts subside, and he eases into the embrace of your bed, a portrait of passion painted across his beautiful face.

As he gradually softens within you, you take the initiative to lift yourself off him, both of your essences clinging to your skin, a residue of your shared passion that you welcome without reservation.

As you recline beside him, a soft chuckle escapes your lips, a shared breathlessness enveloping both of you. The air in the room is charged with the echo of passion, leaving a tangible energy that binds your entangled forms together.

Breathless and sporting a satisfied grin, he turns to you, his eyes filled with a post-passion glow. “Fuck that was incredible,”' he murmurs, capturing the shared intensity of the moment in the curve of his smile.

An undeniable contentment colors your voice as you respond, “Yeah,” savoring the echoes of pleasure that linger in the air.

Suddenly, a spark of realization ignites within you, propelling you to move with swift purpose. You crawl back on top of him, a burst of energy that startles him, like a surprise in the midst of shared afterglow.

“Why did you leave me?” you inquire, a tinge of accusation laced with the bitter notes in your voice. “Without a word or a farewell. Why did you disappear without a trace?”

His eyes widen momentarily before giving way to an expression of anguish and sadness. A tug at your heart intensifies, as his face alone tells a story you fear can't be good.

He begins with a heavy admission, meeting your eyes with earnest sincerity, “My brother died.”

Your words stumble out in a rush, “Oh, God! I'm so sorry!” The unexpected revelation leaves you fumbling for the right response.

His words flow, carrying a weight of anger and grief, “It's alright. ButI felt so much anger and grief, you know?” he explains, “so much so that I couldn't shapeshift and was stuck in my cat form.”

You exhale a soft ‘aha’ at his words, and the realization washes over you— he was grappling with his own demons, just as you were.

“When I'm consumed by intense emotions, I lose control of my ability to shapeshift, and, and—” You witness a tearful welling in his eyes, prompting you to gently cup his cheeks, reassuring him that it's okay.

“I just wanted to be alone and I didn’t want to burden you…” A few tears spill from his eyes, and you tenderly catch them with your gentle fingers.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, finding solace in the curve of his neck, where his soft minty scent envelops you like a comforting embrace.

“I am so fucking sorry you had to endure that. I understand, truly. But you would never be a burden to me,” you express, gazing into his eyes with a tenderness that echoes your sincerity.

“I want to be there for you,” you declare, your own tears mirroring the empathy in your eyes.

“Ah, shit. I didn’t mean to cry. But, you know, I understand,” you say, your words accompanied by a wry smile as tears trickle down your face and onto Yoongi’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Kitten. I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” 

He seizes your cheeks, tugging you into a tender and unhurried kiss. Time loses its grip, and you're oblivious to the remnants of his seed mingling with your essence, creating a slippery trail between your pussy and his still-slick pelvis.

Lost in the rhythm of your kisses with Yoongi, you surrender to the moment, where every touch feels like a missing puzzle piece seamlessly falling into place.

The two cups of coffee are long forgotten.

Authors note (3): Thank you so very much if you have made it this far 😭 I know this story is a lot – I’ve been dealing with a lot of different stuff for many years, and some of it just got to be too much a few weeks ago, and this story popped into my head. It was therapeutic to write. I don’t know if people will like it or not, but in the end, that’s not what it’s about. It will just exist here.

If you struggle with any of these subjects or emotions, you’re always welcome in my inbox – I’m not a trained psychologist or anything, though! But sometimes it is better to voice your feelings, than struggling in silence. Everybody’s welcome 🫂

I hope you’re doing well. Thank you for you 💜

[zapreportsblog]

❝HUSBAND❞

✭ PAIRING : Edward Cullen x Reader

✭ FANDOM : Twilight

✭ SUMMARY : When Edward proposed to Bella he expected her to accept after all they were mates? Right? Wrong! Bella rejected edwards proposal breaking his undead heart in the process, not being able to withstand the aftermath Edward leaves home; only to return 2 years later but this time he’s married?!

✭ AUTHORS NOTE : I already know there is a story on here called the same story with the same cover (on quotev at least) mines had been edited to a clearer form, (again on quotev) that was my old account, (marveluserlovesmarbel again on quotev was my old and very first account) one of my first actually. If I can remember the login information from it I’d log back in and post my stories from their over here but for now enjoy the remake of said story :)

✭ QUOTEV VERSION

✭ HUSBAND MASTERLIST

✭ CHAPTER TWO : A Surprise Homecoming

Inside the Cullen home, a sense of curiosity and anticipation hung in the air. The family gathered at the entrance, drawn by Alice's sudden vision and the excitement radiating from her. Her golden eyes sparkled as she clapped her hands together.

"I just had a vision," Alice announced, "Edward is coming back, and he should be arriving any minute now."

Everyone exchanged glances, surprised and eager to see Edward again. Moments later, the sound of an approaching car could be heard, and they watched as Edward pulled into the driveway. As he stepped out of the car, they were taken aback by the presence of a woman in the passenger seat. Edward opened her door, and they exited the vehicle, both smiling warmly at the Cullen family.

Edward greeted his siblings with hugs and was bombarded with questions about his trip. Carlisle suggested they continue the conversation inside, and they all moved into the house.

Once inside, Edward introduced the woman beside him. "Everyone, this is (Y/n). We got married."

The room fell into stunned silence. Carlisle was the first to break it, his face a mixture of surprise and happiness. "Edward, this is wonderful news, but since when did you get married?"

Edward explained, "We got married a year ago."

Alice gasped, fake outrage coloring her tone. "And you didn't let me plan your wedding? Unacceptable!"

Laughter rippled through the room as they realized Alice was teasing. Edward smiled, "Honestly, after Bella, I didn't expect to find love again."

Esme stepped forward, her motherly warmth enveloping them. "Well, I'm happy you did, son." She turned to (Y/n) and asked, "Now, how did you two come to be?"

(Y/n) laughed, her eyes sparkling. "I tried to kill him."

Bewildered looks crossed the faces of the Cullen family. Jasper scoffed and nodded. "That explains it."

”I’m sorry what?!”

”What can I say, it’s in my blood to hunt creatures like Edward,” (y/n) says with a laugh.

“Hunt? Are you a hunter?” Esme asked with slight hesitation.

”Yeah. My last name was Winchester but i guess it’s now (Y/n) Winchester Cullen, decided to keep my last name you know.”

Jasper can’t help but scoff, “Figures.”

Everyone was still puzzled, and Jasper elaborated, "The Winchesters are a hot-blooded family of hunters."

Edward added, "We're also mates."

Rosalie, never one to hide her feelings about Bella, couldn't help but ask, "Wait, aren't you and Bella mates?"

Edward explained, "When I met Bella, it was her blood that called out to me. She was my blood singer, which is why I felt such a strong connection to her. I deluded myself into thinking I loved her for her. But when I met (Y/n), I instantly felt the mate bond."

The family began to understand, and the room filled with smiles and warm welcomes for (Y/n). It was a surprising turn of events, and everyone felt a sense of joy and acceptance as they welcomed Edward and his new love back into their immortal lives.

┉

As the Cullen family settled into their cozy living room, the girls - Alice, Esme, Rosalie, and (Y/n) - conspired to have some girl talk out on the balcony. They silently made their way outside, leaving the boys to their own devices.

On the balcony, a sense of camaraderie and curiosity enveloped the girls. Esme leaned against the railing, looking at (Y/n) with a warm smile. "So, (Y/n), how did you find out that Edward was a vampire?"

(Y/n) leaned against the balcony and looked out at the starry night sky. "He did a good job hiding it at first, but after a few weeks, I noticed something unusual. One day, he reached out for something, and his hand caught the sunlight, causing it to sparkle like diamonds. I couldn't ignore that."

Rosalie's eyebrows arched in interest. "And what did you do next?"

(Y/n) chuckled. "I did what any person would do in this situation—I did some research. I found out about the myth of vampires sparkling in the sunlight, and it all started to make sense."

Esme nodded, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "You were pretty observant."

(Y/n) shrugged. "I guess I've always had a knack for details."

Rosalie, intrigued by the prospect of conversation, leaned in closer. "Have you encountered more of our kind?"

(Y/n) thought for a moment before responding. "I've hunted vampires, but they're of different vampiric natures. Some of them don't sparkle, instead, they burn in the sunlight. Others have special jewelry that allows them to go into the sunlight without a problem."

Alice leaned forward, her golden eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Tell us more about the supernatural creatures you've encountered."

(Y/n) began to share stories of her encounters with various supernatural beings, including werewolves, shape-shifters, and even ancient mythical creatures. The girls listened with rapt attention, enjoying the opportunity to learn about (Y/n)'s adventurous life.

Back in the living room, the boys decided to go on a hunt, giving the girls some privacy. Edward proposed the idea, and Emmett, Carlisle, and Jasper readily agreed. With their departure, the girls had their opportunity to get to know (y/n) better.

In the heart of the dark woods, the Cullen brothers and father continued their hunt. Jasper, after a moment of contemplation, decided to address the questions that had been gnawing at him. He turned to Edward and said, "You look well."

Edward chuckled, his voice a wry whisper. "What's with the small talk, Jasper? You know I can hear your thoughts going a million miles a minute."

Jasper sighed, his concern evident. "Why a hunter, Edward? I know she's your mate, but you could've pulled away."

Edward's eyes, glinting like polished onyx in the moonlight, met Jasper's. "You know I wouldn't have been able to pull away if I felt the pull."

Jasper persisted, his voice tinged with worry. "She's a hunter, Edward. She's dangerous."

Edward countered, "And I'm a vampire. I can be dangerous too."

Emmett, who had been silently listening, finally chimed in. "I mean, they both can kill each other at the end of the day. Can't we move on from this topic?"

Jasper was unrelenting. "No, he's putting us all in danger. Aside from her being the very thing that kills us, she's also a human."

Edward's brow furrowed, and he asked, "What's your problem, Jasper?"

Jasper's voice grew more serious. "Listen, you've never faced a Winchester before. I have. Trust me, you don't want to cross their path."

Before the argument could escalate any further, Carlisle intervened. "Gentlemen, I suggest we drop this argument for now. I see something." He pointed toward a deer approaching through the trees, reminding them of the primary purpose of their venture. The brothers refocused their attention on the hunt, leaving their concerns and debates for another time.

The Cullen brothers and father, fresh from their successful hunt, made their way back to the house. Emmett carried the lifeless deer, a triumph in his strong arms. As they approached the house, their senses picked up the unmistakable scent of a familiar visitor. Bella Swan had arrived, her red beat-up pickup truck parked near the house.

Bella hesitated by the truck, her posture awkward and uncertain. She called out to Edward, "Hey, Edward. It's been a while."

Edward's face remained a mask of emotionless grace, but he kindly greeted her with a simple, "Hello, Bella."

Bella continued, "I didn't believe Charlie when he said he saw you passing through Forks. He said he saw you with someone. I take it you've brought a friend?"

Before Edward could answer, (Y/n) appeared, coming outside with a warm smile to greet him and the others. She rushed into Edward's arms, showering him with affectionate kisses on the face.

"My love," (Y/n) said, her voice filled with both relief and happiness. "You've been gone for so long, I got worried."

Edward's stoic facade softened as he held (Y/n) close, returning her affection with a warm embrace. Bella watched their reunion with a mix of emotions, perhaps sensing that the connection between Edward and (Y/n) was deeper and more profound than she had ever experienced with him.

[catmiemy]

Another Chance to Live Part 1 (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)

Summary: Ana and you are both struggling with unwanted transfers, but maybe you can at least find happiness off the pitch.

A/N: This is the first part of a story I've been working on for a while. I guess my way of processing my emotions about Ana's transfer. I've been in the denial stage for a long time 😅

The next two chapters are already written (just need to edit them) and so far it's a total of about 13k words. I'm now at a crossroad which will decide how long the story becomes. So I thought I'd publish the first part and see how much interest there is in a story like this to help me decide.

It felt like a cruel joke of the universe that now, now when you had been forced to leave, the woman you’ve had a crush on for years, joined your team, or well your former team. Words that made your heart crack a little more every time you thought them. Never in a billion years had you expected your team to become your former team.

Ever since you had first laid eyes on Ana you had been dazzled by her, not necessarily only by her looks, although you definitely enjoyed them, but also by her personality and her aura. She always radiated so much kindness and positive energy. It was impossible not to be drawn to her.

Sadly your paths didn’t cross all too often and when they did, Ana was always somewhere in the heart of whatever group you were part of, while you were lingering on the edges, looking in. So the Swiss woman was probably only vaguely aware of your existence, while you soaked up every detail you could find about Ana. The more you learnt, the more you liked her.

 And yes, sometimes when you lay in bed at night you made up little scenarios how the two of you would meet. One of your favorite ones was Ana coming to Atleti, not really knowing her way around Madrid yet, so you take her under your wing and show her everything. And of course she starts falling for you as you spend so much time together. It was your imagination after all, so you could day dream all you wanted.

Now part of this little fantasy was actually coming true, Ana really was joining Atlético, and it frustrated you to no end that now that she came, you were gone.  Although perhaps it wasn’t the universe being cruel towards you, maybe it was protecting you because even if you played for the same team there was no way the Swiss woman would ever go for someone like you.

Still, you spent a good amount of time fuming about it in your apartment. Possibly also because it was easier to focus on that rather than on the fact that your childhood club had just dropped you like you meant nothing.  Every time you remembered the conversation with the club’s managers you felt like throwing up, hiding under the covers for the rest of your life, and ripping off your ears so you didn’t have to listen to one more word from them. So yeah, it was comforting in a weird way to think about your missed chance with Ana, especially since it never had been much of a chance anyway.

It was harder to hold on to that strange comfort when training actually started and you had to go to Real Madrid’s training center every day. Most days were spent attempting to do your best and keep your negative emotions in check, while thinking nonstop about how much you hated this, how much you wanted to return to Atelti, how much you wanted to leave Madrid altogether.

So all in all you weren’t having the best time, barely getting by was actually a more accurate way to describe it. Then a few weeks after the season started you got a call from Lola.

“Sooo I heard you’re doing a lot of moping these days,” she teased you.

However there was an underlying note of worry in her voice. You had done your best to pretend as if Atleti’s decision hadn’t hurt you, that these things happen in football, and you were completely fine with it, but Lola had seen right through it.

“I’m not moping, I’m just quiet and focused like usual,” you quickly defended yourself. It was only partially true, you hated every single second you spent at the training center of Real Madrid.

“That’s not what I’ve heard, but how about you convince me over a cup of coffee. Maybe tomorrow afternoon?”

You didn’t even question how Lola knew that you had the day off tomorrow, apparently she had some spies at Real. As much as you didn’t want to continue talking about the misery that was your new club, you did want to see your friend, so you agreed.

“I might ask some other people if they want to tag along. Everyone misses you,” Lola continued, making you happy and sad at the same time. It was nice to be missed, but you wished you weren’t in a position where you could be missed.

Before you could hang up, Lola told you to bring “your moping buddy Misa”, then she ended the call with a cackle, not giving you any chance to retaliate. In all honesty there was some truth to it, both you and Misa were unhappy at Real, so it wasn’t surprising that she was the only person you had really bonded with so far.

Going by Lola’s words you expected a big group the next day when you entered the café you had agreed upon. What you found however were merely three people, Lola, Misa and no one other than Ana.

Suddenly your stomach was filled with butterflies flapping their wings wildly, making you somewhat nauseous as a result. You hadn’t expected this and you weren’t prepared for it at all. If it wouldn’t have been incredibly rude you would have walked right back out of the café.

Instead you walked over to the small group, doing your best impression of a friendly smile. You could have sworn you saw a knowing glint in both Misa’s and Lola’s eyes. There was no way they knew about your crush though, right?

Lola jumped up when she saw you, hugging you tightly. “It’s good to see you, chica, I’ve missed you,” she told you.

You had to blink a couple of times to chase away the tears burning in your eyes. There was no denying that you had missed her too, all of your former teammates really. You longed to be back at Atlético, and not only because Ana was there.

Right, Ana.

You extracted yourself from your friend and smiled at the blonde. Should you hug her as well? Or greet her with kisses on the cheeks? That’s exactly why you should have been informed that Ana would be there, so that you could think this over beforehand. Or, well, over think it.

Unlike you Ana knew exactly what to do; she got up, greeted you kindly and gave you a quick hug. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N. We’ve never had much of a chance to talk, so I’m glad we get one now.”

For a few seconds too long you started at her. You were torn between awe, and a little bit of envy, at how easily the Swiss woman had navigated this greeting, and shock. She remembered you? She was happy to see you? Once your heart slowed down from a wild canter to a moderate gallop and your brain was working more clearly again, you realized that this was probably just something Ana had said to make the situation less awkward, not something she truly meant.

“So, do you want to sit down?” Lola suggested with a smirk on her face. Thankfully she left it at that though and you quickly sank down into a chair. You felt too embarrassed to look at Ana, so you completely missed the reassuring smile she sent your way.

After that things went much more smoothly, mostly because Lola and Ana carried the conversation, allowing you and Misa to remain in your preferred role, attentive listener. Your former teammate as well as your crush tried valiantly to draw you out of your shell, but out of fear of saying something stupid, you kept your answers as short as possible without being weird or unfriendly. If only you could think of something witty to say!

On the bright side your relative quietness gave you a good opportunity to study Ana. She was stunning as always, but you could easily spot the signs of the toll this move to the Atlético had taken on her; her smile wasn’t quite as wide as usual and didn’t reach her eyes, her voice was a little duller, there were badly covered up dark bags underneath her eyes and she was a bit more subdued than normal  in general. Man, you really had spent way too long looking at any video of her you could find to notice things like that!

Then all of the sudden Misa let out a gasp. “I completely forgot I promised my neighbor I’d let in her daughter today. I need to leave right now to make it.”

You frowned at your teammate; it wasn’t like her to forget something as important as that. Was something more than her unhappiness with being stuck at Real bothering her? You made a mental note to ask Misa about it the next day, remind her that you were always there if she needed someone.

Misa’s departure didn’t really change anything in the dynamic, she hadn’t contributed much just like you. But then Lola got a phone call from her girlfriend who apparently needed your former teammate urgently. She looked at the two of you apologetically, however you could swear that there was some glee shimmering behind her regretful front.

“You girls should stay here and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Really I’m so sorry about this, don’t let it ruin your day,” Lola babbled, pressing a kiss to both your and Ana’s cheek before dashing out of the café.

You looked after her with confusion. The confusion however was short-lived, quickly drowned out by panic once you realized that you were now left alone with Ana. No more hiding behind other people, no more safety net. You weren’t ready. However leaving also wasn’t an option, there was no way you could do so without offending Ana, so you had to pull yourself together.

“I’m sorry about that,” Ana apologized, bringing your confusion back. As far as you were aware the Swiss woman had absolutely nothing to apologize for.

“They probably planned this because they think I need to be more social again. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jenni put them up to it, she’s been pretty worried,” the Swiss woman specified, leaving you reeling because you didn’t know how to deal with that much honesty.

“Oh,” you replied, praying that some more words would enter your brain. “Maybe they also did it for me. They think I’m pretty antisocial in general,” you finished, kicking yourself for making yourself look even more pathetic than you already did.

To your surprise Ana didn’t seem put off; on the contrary she chuckled and said, “Well we can be antisocial together then.”

The Swiss woman using the word ‘together’ in reference to the both of you made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, you could definitely get used to that.

In an attempt to take control of the situation and not end up blurting out something stupid if Ana asked you a question, you inquired how she was liking Madrid so far. It seemed like a normal thing to ask someone that had just moved to a new place.

However the Swiss woman didn’t answer right away, which was atypical for her who always seemed to have a reply ready. That combined with the guarded look in her eyes made you realize that this wasn’t a safe and easy topic for her. In your rush to make sure nothing that would be complicated for you came up, you had totally forgotten that Ana’s own move to Madrid had been anything but a happy occurence. Way to be selfish!

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Forget I said anything, that was such a stupid thing to say,” you apologized frantically

“No, don’t worry, it’s fine,” Ana quickly reassured you. “I just don’t really know what to say. Obviously I didn’t want to come here, I miss Barcelona. Both the city and the team. So I’m not having the best time to be completely honest. Then again I also haven’t given Madrid much of a chance yet. So…”

The Swiss woman’s openness left you stunned once again. This could never be you, sharing your thoughts and feelings so freely. At the same time you noticed with a surge of excitement and dread that Ana’s explanation gave you a good opening, not unlike your daydreams in fact.

Your fear of being annoying and overstepping was battling hard against your longing to get to spend more time with the blonde in the future. In the end you decided to go for it, maybe Ana would appreciate it and if she didn’t want to hang out again, she could just say so. Of course there was still the fear of rejection holding you back, but you shoved that to the back of your mind. If you didn’t ask the answer would always be no, right?

“If you want to I could show you around Madrid sometime. I’ve lived here all my life so I know the place like the back of my hand and know some nice places. Totally fine if you don’t of course, I’m sure there are many other people that could show you around.”

You spoke in record speed, making it hard for Ana to follow, which was why it took her a moment to answer. These few seconds were some of the most horrible ones in your life. If she said no now all your hopes would be shattered once and for all. Everyone always said it was important to know so you could move on, but honestly if the Swiss woman didn’t want to spend any time with you, you didn’t want to know.

“That sounds great, I’d love to,” Ana replied once she had enough time to process your jumble of words.

“Really?” You double checked, the words out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“Yeah, definitely,” the Swiss woman confirmed with a gentle smile. A smile that you returned happily. You hadn’t felt this excited in a while, it was a nice change from the bleakness that had become your constant companion.

The rest of your time together was spent chatting easily. You weren’t a great conversationalist, however with Ana it came much more natural. The blonde definitely did the heavy lifting, but you were happy with your own contributions. You even made her laugh a few times!

Later that day when you were back in your apartment you were much more critical, taking apart every single thing that you had said and coming to the conclusion that you must be the stupidest person on the planet. Thankfully you were going to get another chance in a few days and this time you would be better prepared. You would say interesting things and you would make sure Ana had a great time. The blonde deserved some joy and happiness and you would do your best to give her that.

Before your next meeting with Ana you actually made a plan; you would make a list of her interests and think of possible questions, some jokes and interesting facts you could mention. You spent one evening on it, working furiously and then you realized what you were doing, feeling very foolish all of the sudden. You scrunched up the piece of paper and threw it into the trash with some force.

This was pointless and unnecessary and totally embarrassing! Maybe you weren’t the best at coming up with things to say on the spot, but rehearsing everything like this was a role in a play was stupid. The urge to do absolutely everything to get Ana to like you was huge, however is she only liked this carefully crafted version of you that wasn’t any better than her not liking you at all.

Also, you shouldn’t even attempt to get the Swiss woman to like you. Just like you should keep your own crush in check. Ana’s life was complicated enough at the moment, you didn’t need to add your infatuation into the mix.

Unfortunately your noble plan to ignore your crush failed miserably. Whenever you spent time with Ana you fell a little more for her. It was simply impossible not to when she was the kindest, funniest, most interesting and on top of that most beautiful person in the world.

Like when you were out and about on one of your strolls to the city and a young couple approached you, asking if you could take a picture of them. As was typical for you, you hesitated for a moment; not necessarily because you didn’t want to, but because your mind was already working in overdrive, supplying you with every possible negative outcome.

Ana on the other hand smiled at them. “Of course! Where do you want to take it?”

And then she proceeded to take several pictures of the two, showing them to the couple, and when they weren’t completely satisfied yet, she even offered her own suggestions on how they might turn out even better.

All the way you were just watching them, well mostly Ana, with a goofy smile. You loved how much she cared, how much effort she put into random people she didn’t even know. No wait, you didn’t love that, you liked that, admired it.

Or when Ana convinced you to go into a tiny café. A place you would have never frequented on your own because the intimacy of it freaked you out. Not the blonde though. Within seconds she began chatting with the owner, a middle-aged woman who was thrilled someone showed so much interest in her small establishment.

The cake you got was very tasty as was the coffee and the homemade ice tea. You were quick to admit that Ana had made a good decision by forcing you to go there.

However what really pulled at your heartstring was that the Swiss woman went up to the owner afterwards and asked if it was okay to post about this place on Instagram. The poor woman almost started crying out of happiness and thanked Ana profusely, while the blonde kept insisting that this was nothing and really it should be her thanking the owner.

So it was safe to say that you fell deeper and harder every time you saw Ana. But it was okay, you had a foolproof way to make sure that the blonde didn’t figure it out and therefore her life didn’t get disrupted because of you. Whenever you echoed a statement Ana had made about how much she liked hanging out with you or that she thought you were a great person, you always added ‘friend’ into the mix; “I enjoy hanging out with you too, you’re such a great friend.” and “Aw thank you. You’re one of the best people and friends I know too!”

Sometimes when you were feeling particularly hopeful you wondered if the lack of specification on Ana’s part meant that she liked you as more than a friend. You always discarded the idea quickly though. It was much more likely that the thought of being more than friends was so ludicrous to the blonde, something that had probbly never even grazed her mind, that she didn’t feel the need to explicitly state it.

Despite having to resign yourself to the fact that Ana didn’t like you like that, it still made you happy that she was usually in a good mood when you were hanging out. Something you were secretly very proud of. Still every once in a while her sadness shined through, for example when she heard someone speak Catalan or when she saw something that reminded her of Barcelona.

One time a group of fans came up to her. They were friendly and excited and the Swiss woman matched their energy effortlessly. But then one of them mentioned how sad they were that Ana wasn’t playing for Barça anymore. You were forced to watch the blonde deflate slightly after that thoughtless statement. She was good at pretending though, so the fans were none the wiser.

When they were gone you gathered all of your courage. Up until now you had stayed in the shallows of easy conversation so this was a first and once again you worried about overstepping. But when you saw Ana’s sad eyes and the forcefully pulled up corners of her mouth, you couldn’t stay silent.

“Do you want to talk about it? I mean your transfer from Barça? I know we haven’t really talked about that or othe serious things yet, but I’m always happy to listen. I’m actually pretty good at that.”

The Swiss woman sighed, rubbing a hand over her face.

“That’s very sweet but honestly I’ve been talking so much about it lately. Sometimes it feels like it’s the only thing anyone wants to talk about anymore. So if it’s okay with you could we just continue like before? The distraction has been helping a lot.”

You had been helping! Happiness flowed through you and your smile was maybe a bit bigger than was warranted for a situation like this. However unless Ana was studying you as intently as you always studied her, you doubted that the blonde would notice.

“Yeah, of course. I’m happy to help in anyway.”

Ana and you kept seeing each other regularly and it was the undisputed highlight of your current life. Honestly it was a little worrying how few other things brought you any joy, but you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on that.

So when you were put into a situation where you had to cancel on Ana you were devastated. It wasn’t an appropriate reaction to something so small, but you had a ten minute crying session until you could even begin to function properly again. Calling the Swiss woman was out of the question though, you were still chocked up and sniffling.

Instead you texted her, apologizing multiple times and explaining that you were roped into doing all sorts of things last minute for your father’s birthday tomorrow. You could have slapped yourself for not seeing this coming. Sure, your parents had assured you time and time again that everything was taken care of, but you should have known better. Then you could have done it before today and weren’t forced to cancel on Ana.

Only minutes after you had sent the text your phone started ringing with a call from the Swiss woman. With wide, panicked eyes you stared at the screen. In the end your desire to at least hear Ana’s voice if you couldn’t see her won out. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice anything.

 „Hey I just saw your text and wanted to ask if I can help out with anything.”

You smiled at your phone, your heart warmed by Ana’s kindness. There was no doubt in your mind that she would actually follow through on your offer. Not that you would ever take it.

“Aw thank you so much, Ana! But it’s okay really. Most things I have to do at my parents place anyway. You know help them clean and decorate. So I’ll be out most of the day, and then in the evening I’ll have to bake the cake. Who knows how that’s going to go.”

You chuckled, even if you were feeling slightly panicked at the idea of baking. Normally your mother was in charge of that, but she had broken her arm a few weeks ago, so that was out of the question. Moments like this made you wish that you had some siblings or some cousins for that matter, just anyone to help you out.

“Not to brag, but I’m actually a great baker. So if you want some help, I’m happy to come over in the evening and help,” the blonde offered.

It would be nice to have some help, and you always wanted to see Ana. Plus she had brought up the idea of her own accord, so surely it was okay, right?

“That would be great actually. Thank you so much,” you replied, not giving your mind any more opportunity to drive yourself crazy.

Ana and you quickly planned everything out before you hung up and left to do everything else. With the prospect of seeing the Swiss woman later today you were a lot more cheerful than before.

“What’s got you so happy?” Your mother asked you while she supervised the decorating process.

It was incredibly frustrating since she kept criticizing everything you did. Every few minutes you had to step away for a moment, take some deep breaths and visualize how your evening with Ana would be, full of laughter and fun conversation.

“Not this, that’s for sure,” you muttered, low enough so that your mothers whose hearing wasn’t the best anymore, couldn’t here you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you said louder, “I’m just in a good mood, I guess.”

There was no point in bringing up Ana. Nothing would ever happen between the two of you and even after knowing about it for almost ten years your parents still struggled with your sexuality. To avoid unnecessary conflict and awkwardness you never spoke about women you liked unless it was something serious. So never.

“You should focus on decorating and not smile so much. Maybe then we would get somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, but kept your mouth shut. No point in pointing out that most parents would be happy if their child was happy. And it wasn’t like your mother wasn’t happy about it, she just wasn’t good at being pleasant around you. Somehow she always felt the need to criticize you.

Hours later you got into your car, quickly drove away and as soon as you were a decent distance from your parents’ house you let out a loud scream, releasing all of the built up frustration. Then you set your focus on the near future, on the fact that you would be meeting Ana in half an hour at your apartment. Baking wasn’t really your thing, but baking with the Swiss sounded like a lot of fun. Anything was fun with her really; just being around her made you so happy.

When you got to your apartment Ana was already waiting for you, leaning against her car. A big smile appeared on the blonde’s face when she saw you and she waved at you happily. It warmed your insides, swept away any remnant of frustration from the long day with your parents, seeing how excited Ana was to see you.

You got set up quickly, putting out all the ingredients and opening up the recipe you had settled on. Then you turned to the Swiss woman expectantly.

“So any baking pro tips from you before we start?” You asked teasingly.

Ana looked at you sheepishly.

“To be completely honest I don’t really know that much about baking. I usually only bake once a year to make some Christmas cookie,” the blonde admitted, scratching her nose.

You frowned at her in confusion. This didn’t really make any sense to you, but you didn’t want to make Ana feel bad about it.

“So why did you say you did?” You asked carefully. „I mean only if you want to tell me, it’s totally fine if you don’t. I’m sure you had your reasons.”

The Swiss woman blushed a little as she explained herself, “I really just wanted to spend some time with you today.”

Your heart started racing at this confession, your hopes going through the roof.  It didn’t take long for the logical part of your brain to bring you back to earth though. Surely this didn’t mean what you wanted it to mean. Most likely Ana was just struggling today and didn’t want to be alone.

“Oh I’m sorry you’re having a hard time today. You know you can always tell me that and if it’s possible at all I’ll always make time for you. You don’t have to make up reasons to hang out.”

Ana stared at you with a pained expression. It hurt your heart to see her in pain and it made you wonder if something had happened today, perhaps something that reminded her of Barcelona?

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked when the blonde stayed quiet, but then you thought better of it. “Wait no I’m sorry, you already said that you’re tired of talking about it before and that you prefer a distraction. So let’s bake!”

You put some extra excitement into your voice and made sure to keep up a stream of easy chatter as you got to work. For a while Ana remained a bit distant and quiet, but before too long her smile returned and she began talking and joking.

When the blonde laughed loudly at a joke you had made you felt very proud of yourself for giving Ana what she needed, a distraction. If you continued to be helpful she would keep wanting to hang out with you and that was also very much in your interest. Even if the knowledge that it meant something else to you hurt somewhat every time you thought of it.

However it was all worth it to get to spend time with Ana. Everything was worth that.

[cadaveerie]

Romance options for the Inquisitor in DATV CC (descriptions)

for THE IRON BULL, DORIAN PAVUS, CULLEN RUTHERFORD (preview), SOLAS, NONE. with transcriptions!

THE IRON BULL Soldier, spy, survivor—the Iron Bull was many things even before a romance inside the Inquisition changed his life forever. The hulking Qunari called the Iron Bull, a shameless flirt, was pleased when the Inquisitor returned his overtures. But what began as a way for them to unwind grew into something deeper and more profound. When The Iron Bull's superiors demanded he turn on the Inquisitor, he refused—and never regretted it.

DORIAN When the northern mage came to the Inquisition looking for help, he discovered a love enduring and rare. Born and raised in the Tevinter Imperium, Dorian hadn't though he'd find much to impress him when he travelled south. But as he and the Inquisitor became drawn to each other, their attraction bloomed into a deep and caring relationship that endured even after Dorian reluctantly returned home.

SOLAS He possessed knowledge beyond any mortal, yet even the Dread Wolf could not foresee what it would mean to fall in love. Though Solas hid his past from the Inquisitor, the more time they spent together, the more precious that time became. Their connection was passionate and undeniable. Solas mourned that his duty to the past forced him to leave her in the end, but the Inquisitor knew what they had might not be so quick to fade.

CULLEN A man haunted by duty's demands, Cullen Rutherford never expected to find love during his time in the Inquisition.

NONE The Inquisitor was always busy handing her/his/their growing forces, potential allies, and dealing with ever more dangerous threats. The Inquisitor led by example, plunging into the wilds to recruit followers, end rivalries and keep the common folk safe from monsters. She/he/they even made forays into the grand politics that decided the fate of an empire. She/He/They gained lifelong friends, enemies, and rivals along the way.

Note: I've made direct transcriptions, typos included.

sources: bull, dorian, none (not the original sources though because i can't find them. i'll edit this post if i do) ; cullen ; solas

Edit:

Added Solas!

Because there seems to be some confusion: No, this is not all of the romances. All of the romances available in Inquisition are available for the Inquisitor in this game as well. We just haven't seen the text for them (the reason some of the romances are blocked is because their romances were blocked in Inquisition. In this case, the inquisitor was probably a female non-elf, since they can't romance Solas (only elf female), Dorian (only male) or Cassandra (only male.))

As you can see in the source and the title of this post, the Cullen romance bit is just a preview, that's not the whole text. I clarified it in the beginning of the post but I guess some people didn't understand.

Sorry for the confusion.

[punkpandapatrixk]

🧜🏻‍♀️Vain Sass ☆ Timeless Tarot Guidance

Elements/Signs in this reading are calibrated to all aenergetic placements. Feel free to read as many Elements/Signs as you feel called to at this point in your spiritual evolution♡

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

‘It is really a hard life. Men will not be nice to you if you are not good-looking, and women will not be nice to you if you are.’ – Agatha Christie

Well, what are you gonna do about it? Life is hard when you’re a girl; might as well do whatever you like. And if somebody doesn’t like you for your style, oh, who cares? Stop trying to be liked by everybody! You, don’t even like everybody. Live and let live. The most important thing is that you’re having fun on your own terms~

‘Eat whatever you want, and if anyone tries to lecture you about your weight, eat them too!’ – Vlada Roslyakova

pov: you're in an edit (recommend to listen alone)

☆♪°・. aenergetic companion PAC ☆♪°・.

[PAG Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Vain Sass for 🐞Fire Signs – Gold Astronomer (John Dee)

8 of Cups Rx, 10 of Pentacles, 5 of Cups

The power of Fire Signs is that you don’t easily lose yourself in the midst of a battle of wits. If you’re reading this and feel like this doesn’t describe you, it’s only because you haven’t fully tapped into your Fire Sass, trust me. You’re literally a dragon that possesses a breath of fire that can annihilate all of the naysayers in your Life. Sure, you wanna be wise when using it and not lose your temper to a point of detriment, and you surely don’t wanna burn those who actually care for you.

But when it comes to a struggle of wit and identity, you should stand your ground for that is the only way you will ever feel content as a Fire dominant person. Your dignity lies in your ability to maintain ground and create your empire of authenticity with your own hands, supported by your confidence in your ability to manifest every single thing you have ever wanted for yourself. As long as you stay loyal to yourself, you’re destined for great material happiness in this lifetime.

Outgrowing your bullshit is one thing, but changing yourself to fit some norms or expectations is never a good fit for you. Not for anybody, I guess. Learn from your mistakes, be even better, be stronger in your conviction, and continue to return to yourself as you grow up. Growing older is easy but growing up is not. It is easier to gain years than to gain wisdom. You don’t wanna be foolishly stubborn; you gotta grow up and wise up, and the older you get and clearer about yourself, the sassier I’m sure you get.

All Fire Signs are sassy and honestly quite vain. Is that a sin? Nah, hardly <3

Oracle Guidance for Fire Signs🔻❤️

🐏Aries – Priestess of Integrity

🦁Leo – Priestess of Luxury

🎠Sagittarius – Priestess of Happiness

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Vain Sass for 🐍Earth Signs – Silver Astrologer (John Dee)

10 of Wands Rx, 8 of Wands, XVI The Tower

You’re cute, you know that, don’t you? If you want, you could turn simps into SLAVES; so when you’re in a pinch, you should not hesitate to use that sensual Earthy power of seduction to get what you want XD I’m hearing, you’re a juicy bitch (however that resonates LMAO) and you should never live a difficult Life! I mean, Earth aenergy is kinda twisted in that you’re defo the type that shouldn’t work so hard—because all the manifestation power of the Earth belongs to you. And yet, here you are struggling to make ends meet~ tsk tsk…

Communicate your needs seductively, attract the right people, the genuinely helpful ones, and thank them for all that they’re willing to sacrifice for you. I’m not teaching/endorsing you to be a selfish mean bitch who uses people like they’re walking ATMs hahaha So in essence, I’m getting that learning to be vulnerable in your communication can really help you with attracting an easier Life…more easily. As an Earth dominant person, you really deserve to live an easier Life.

If you’re motivated to work extra hard on something at all, make sure it’s something that matters to you on a Soul level. And most of all, don’t work so hard sacrificing yourself for things/corporations/goals and endeavours that are only there to make you look good in society. All of the passionate hard work you’re personally interested in, whatever it may be, it’d suit you best if your goals and endeavours can enrich the lives of those in your community. Earth aenergy, after being nourished yourself, literally lives for the enrichment of other people’s foundations/soils as well <3

Make it easy for others the way your simps are making it easy for you LMAO

Oracle Guidance for Earth Signs🔻💚

🐂Taurus – Priestess of Fertility

🧘🏻‍♀️Virgo – Priestess of Purity

🐐Capricorn – Priestess of Magick

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Vain Sass for ⛲Air Signs – Red Geographer (Marco Polo)

Page of Wands Rx, King of Wands Rx, 7 of Pentacles Rx

Y’know, Air Signs are defo usually known for intellect and grace, but what some people forget to remember is that underdeveloped Air Signs are some of the world’s worst cowards. Listen, this is tough love, baby. If your Air aenergy makes you weak, meek, scared and anxious, you gotta tune into other elements in your natal chart that could help you gain confidence, first and foremost, until you know how to develop your Air quality alright.

You’re intelligent, and so that makes you aware of the possibilities of how other people react/respond to what you say or how you behave. And since you value being on good terms with people, you could be juggling WAY too many thoughts and calculations on how well or badly people could receive you. That’s bullshit, OK? You’re expending way too much aenergy on things that aren’t even real—they don’t even matter in the grand scheme of things. The most important thing is that you’re loyal to yourself.

If you’re with someone or a group of friends who don’t value you for your originality and individuality, they’re not your people. You have to have the courage to let such connections dissolve from your Reality. Air or no Air, all people deserve to be seen and acknowledged for their individual divine identity in Human form. Being charming in social situations is one thing but never be a people pleaser. Nobody has ever genuinely liked a people pleaser in the history of people pleasing each other XXD

Having an identity does NOT equate being a mean bully. Know the difference! <3

Oracle Guidance for Air Signs🔻💙

👯Gemini – Priestess of Opulence

⚖️Libra – Priestess of Shine

🏺Aquarius – Priestess of Patience

Access full reading + cards on Patreon����

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Vain Sass for 🐝Water Signs – Green Astrologer (Robert Fludd)

Queen of Cups, 3 of Wands, IV The Emperor

You, hold so many secrets in your heart that you keep from spilling over so as not to drown other people with your emotions. In that sense, you really strive to be a decent and responsible person. I think that’s healthy and admirable. But I hope you also find a way to express your emotions in other ways when the need arises. That much emotion not going anywhere could rot your spirit and make you bitter. Don’t do that to yourself, OK? As much as you care for other people’s feelings and ‘comfort’, you also need to think of your sense of sanity. If anything, that should be priority.

So speak your mind when you need to. If you find yourself failing at your first attempt or if you find you aren’t clear enough the first time, you can try again. It’s perfectly OK to be awkward in social situations tho XD Many people are awkward as fuck! Ultimately, it is vulnerability and honestly that will save your sanity. People who are able to speak vulnerably and transparently are the strongest people, you know that? That’s literally the realest confidence ever.

The way I see it, it’s people whose speech is impassioned with emotions and yet imbued with logic and rationale who make the most amazing public speakers. There is reason and sensibility, and yet, there is empathy. People who speak/communicate like this are the most loved and respected people in the public arenas. With the Emperor card here, I just know it that you can develop yourself to become a very engaging conversationalist!

So, before emotions bubble up to the surface hot and nasty, it’s better to speak what’s on your mind at the time it matters~ <3

Oracle Guidance for Water Signs🔻💛

🦀Cancer – Priestess of Rebirth

🦂Scorpio – Priestess of Intellect

🎏Pisces – Priestess of Clarity

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAG Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[sh4wty18]

hi! can you write a long fluffy Jake x reader?

this isn't long but it's tooth rotting fluff so that makes up for the length :P

call it what you want.

pairing: jake webber x reader

summary: it's your two year anniversary with jake, and you coincidentally bought each other the same gift.

cw: fluff, slight language

word count: 674 + not edited

---

Jake pulls a long, thin, rectangular box out of his now empty bag of gifts he’s gotten you for your two year anniversary. He always loved to spoil you, but birthdays and anniversaries were on another level. He never expected anything in return, he knew you were in two completely different financial situations, he just loved buying you gifts.

You had already opened several gift cards to your favorite stores (he would end up paying for whatever the gift card doesn’t cover, and he’d do it gladly), a couple of new jellycat plushies you had been eyeing, and some posters for your favorite bands and movies, but this box seemed to be the grand finale. 

Jake shakes his hands with excitement and giggles, “I’m so excited for this one!! Open it baby, open it now!” 

You can’t help but smile at his enormous, toothy grin. He was truly the sweetest person you’d ever met. You lean in and kiss his cheek, and he continues bobbing up and down with excitement. 

You slowly untie the bow on top of the box and pull off the satin ribbon. Inside the box lies a long silver chain with a small “J” charm at its center. 

You gasp, it’s minimalist, but pretty, and shows off the fact that you’re his. “Jake, it’s… it’s beautiful.” You had secretly been wanting a chain with his initial on it for months, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think of him every time you listened to Call It What You Want by Taylor Swift. 

“Do you like it? I’ve been hiding it for months!” Jake says proudly. 

“I LOVE it! It’s perfect, Jake. Really.” Now you’re the one who lets out a giggle, “But wait until you see what I got you.” 

You pull a similar rectangular box from your nightstand and hand it to him. He opens it carefully and his face lights up when he sees what’s inside. “No fucking way! We’re gonna be twins!!”

Inside his box lies a matching silver chain with a bigger charm at its center with your initial. You had ordered it for his anniversary gift months ago as well. It seems you two had the same idea. 

“I guess we both wanted the world to know who the other belongs to,” you smirk, and rest your hand on his thigh. “Can I help you put it on?”

He blushes and nods, while you remove the necklace from its case and fasten the clasp around his neck. It sits comfortably above his lock necklace, but it matches his aesthetic perfectly. “Gorgeous, as usual.” 

“Oh stop that,” Jake says in a silly southern accent, then adds, “let me help put yours on.”

He removes your necklace from its case and fastens it around your neck. You use your phone camera to admire it. “Jake, I love this so much. I still can’t believe we had the same idea!”

“We truly are meant to be,” He says with a definitive nod of his head, followed by a quick peck on your lips. He snaps a picture of you sporting his initial and quickly types out 2 years with this fool before adding it to his instagram story. 

You giggle and climb into his lap, wrapping your hands around his neck and making yourself comfortable. He grabs your waist with both hands and smiles up at you, “Hi.” 

“Hello,” you say, smirking again. 

“Whatcha doin’?” He asks sheepishly. 

“Hmm, kissin’ my boyfriend,” You respond, and connect your lips with his. You run your hand through his hair and he pulls your chest closer to his. You break away to kiss down his jawline and Jake giggles.

“You sure you’re just kissing your boyfriend?” He asks.

“Oh, I think we both know what I want.” You say, blushing. Two full years and he still made your stomach twist into knots. 

“Well don’t worry sweetheart, I want it too.” He tilts your chin back up to his mouth and breathes out against your lips, “Happy anniversary, baby.”

---

sorry for the lack of fics recently, i'm writing a book and have been focusing my energy into that. i hope you all enjoyed this! i've missed writing for jake, he's so babygirl <3

[b0xerdancer-writes]

The Warrior with The Poets Heart.

Tamlin x Fae!Reader

Summary: Before Tamlin was a high lord, he wasn't even the heir he was just a boy with a lot of brothers, who made him heir when they all died. He had fallen in love with a girl, who had showed him a book that reminded her of him. It left him with a reason in life after Amarantha messes it all up.

Prompt: Poet/Warrior

Warnings: War, graphic violence, blood, Amarantha

Word Count: 4,086

Notes: A bit smaller but I feel I conveyed my goal in this. A bit late bc the minimum editing I did went on longer than I expected. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Human Fae War had exhausted Tamlin more than he'd like to have admitted, he didn't like swords yet here he was brandishing one, he favored his time reading and writing poetry more even though war time poems were less than proper.

His brothers had all been killed by rival troops, his father had named him heir shortly after the news reached both of their ears; he had been in the med tent getting checked over for a nasty slash when he had heard, his father had bitterly told him that he was heir now and needed to act as such. He was relieved when the war came to its end.

He had sought his usual comfort when he returned to Rosehall with his father paid him no mind, while Rosehall had a fairly good sized library a major portion of the books were kept in his father’s study, he never wanted anything to do with that room really but he guess he had too now. He had read all of the poetry collections within the halls of the estate, his recent comfort had been sneaking off to the nearby village where a small female ran a neat little bookshop. It had shelves of poetry he had never read, and Tamlin had been fascinated how it survived under his nose without him knowing.

He had only found out about it because one of the servants found him wandering around the estate looking for some poetry book he hadn't read yet and stumbled into the servants quarters to see if they had any, and a small lesser fae with dragonfly-like wings had directed him towards her friend's store. Needless to say she didn’t disappoint, and the store had quickly become one of his favorite getaways.

He had saddled up his horse and rode into the village, the familiar cobble path turning into dirt the closer he got to the village; he slowed his gallop down as he entered the busy streets, greeting back the fae that greeted him as he swerved through the crowds on his way to the familiar 2 story cottage at the end of the shopping district. Ivy grew up from the building and around the small handrails for the three steps up to the shop's porch, he tied his horse to the small post she had put out front when she noticed him struggling to tie his horse to the ivy covered railings and headed up the steps. 

The familiar chime of the bells hung from the door handle announced his entrance and a voice yelled from the back room. “Be right there! Please feel free to look around!” 

“It's just me Petal, looking for more poetry.”  Tamlin called back, wandering around between the shelves.

“Oh! Tamlin! I ordered something in for you!” She rounded the shelves and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the sitting area near the checkout. “It came all the way from Day, but it's one of only 15 copied all over Prythian.”

Tamlin followed after her with a grin on his face, their relationship had steadily grown since his first time in the building; he had been awkward and shy looking around but she offered to help him, when he said he was looking for some poetry books he had yet to read she lit up dragging him to a shelf of books that was all poetry. She had asked him if there were any poets he preferred and when he shook his head no she began listing off her favorites on the shelves. He had gone home with only one book, one she claimed was her absolute favorite and was so passionate about that he just had to read it.

“You ordered me a book all the way from Day Court and it's a limited edition? How much did that cost you? I need to compensate you for that darling.” Tamlin mused with a small chuckle. 

She tensed her entire face burning red. “No-no that's not necessary Tam, really, all I ask is that you also allow me to read it.” 

Tamlin smiled at her gently. “Of course darling, anything you want.” 

“We could read it together?” She mumbled softly.

“If you'd like to, I'd be more than happy to do that. Any excuse to not be up in Rosehall right now, father has been driving me up the wall.” Tamlin groaned dramatically and she chuckled.

She ushered him to sit in a chair and brought him a gift wrapped box, eagerly passing it to him she rocked on her feet as he ripped the nice emerald green paper off;  inside a neatly bound book with gold embossing was nestled.

“The King of Poets?” Tamlin read off the cover.

“I got to read it a long time ago, my father had a copy, I sent it to be restored in day court for you. The main character reminds me of you.” She mused back.

“Oh Petal-” Tamlin held the book tightly in his hands. “If this was your father’s I can’t possibly take this from you.” 

She smiled softly and sat beside him. “I want you to have it. You’ll see why.”

Tamlin looked over to her brows furrowed. “You sure darling? I know how much this must mean to you.”

She nodded. “It's not your normal poetry book. It's got small sections that read like poetry, when the main character is writing it himself. But it's a good book.”

“Then we will for sure read it together.” Tamlin nodded, pulled her into a side hug and with a blush on his face pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I can close the store for the day and we can go upstairs and I can make us some honey tea while we read?” She offered

“I'd like that.” Tamlin nodded.

“Go ahead and head up then.” She stood and smoothed her skirts out, she busied herself with closing the front of the store.

The stairs welcomed him up them, decorated with ivy and faelights; if downstairs was cozy, upstairs was cozier. It was kept dim, dark wooden floors with beige walls she had decorated with plants, tapestries, paintings, and hanging faelights; the room was covered with her own personal collection of books on tall bookshelves, in the center of the living room was a dark green padded couch, furs and warm blankets tossed over the back. The old wooden coffee table was in the center of the sofa and two matching chairs, it was littered with small plants and books and in the corner a matching desk was stacked with papers, a journal, and writing utensils.

He plopped onto the sofa, and pulled one of the warm blankets over the back into his lap; the steps creaked as she climbed them and he watched her with a soft adoration on his face, these were his favorite moments now. They had started about two months ago, she had invited him upstairs for tea after weeks of the two sitting in the downstairs reading area and reading different books in silence together.

She carried up a tray with two cups on it, and sat it on the coffee table; she curled up into his side as he took a drink from the sweetened tea. He pulled  the blanket over her lap and wrapped his arm over his shoulder to tuck her further into his side.when she had fully nestled into his side he began reading aloud, the book was a good 25 or so chapters; small in comparison to some he had read but for the story it was trying to convey Tamlin deemed it the perfect size. Hours had passed and the sun was setting in the sky by the time Tamlin reached the last paragraph.

“-Even though he had to brandish  his blade to defend us, his people, his poets, we knew that in his heart he would have rather been lost in his work writing or reading. But even with a poet's heart he stood and fought for us, and even though he lost we commemorate him now and memorialize him in this book. Understand this reader, one does not need the heart of a warrior to stand up for those around you that you care for, you can have the heart of a poet and do just that.” Tamlin read aloud.

He looked down to find her asleep against his chest and smiled; she had known his struggles, had known how he felt about being heir now. His heart wasn't in it he had told her once, he didn't have a warrior's heart like the rest of his brothers; no, he had the heart of a poet, of an artist if you added in his prowess with the fiddle. She wasn’t good with words conveying her message; He knew that, but she always found a way to explain it to him with a book.  The character in the book was more like him than she had made it seem, for more reasons than one. 

He set the book on her coffee table, wrapped the blanket around her and carried her through the upstairs into her bedroom; setting her on the fluffy bed he moved to the desk just outside of her bedroom door and began to scribble a letter to her on it. He brought the cups down to the kitchen and washed them in the sink, tipping them upside down on the small rack beside the sink; he hummed a soft melody while he cleaned and organized. 

Eventually he slipped out the front door and used his magic to reseal the wards, untied the horse and set off back towards Rosehall and the estates grounds. He could face the challenges that came with being Heir now, he thought the war had taken its toll; he hated the mindless slaughter but he'd do it again if it meant protecting his people, protecting her.

+

The next morning she awoke groggily, dazed and confused about how she ended up in bed; remembering how she had fallen asleep surrounded in Tamlin’s scent, pressed into his side, warm, cozy, and with his voice lulling her to sleep. Really there had been no better way to fall asleep in her book. She dragged herself out of bed, finding his note folded neatly and waiting on her to open it.

‘Darling,

Thank you for the wonderful book, as always you know just what to pick; believe me you have conveyed your message my dear.

I understand now what you meant when you said the main character was similar to me in more ways than one. Not only was he blonde and green eyed or in love with a female who worked in the village nearby, but that I am a warrior with the heart of a poet. 

Like the King in the book I didn't want to join the war efforts, but I did to protect the people of my court. I too was anxious about taking over my duties as heir; but you Darling, have helped me with that. I believe I can face them now with no anxiety knowing I’m doing it for you and for my court to make this place better than I will be handed it. 

If I ever have to go to war again, know that I will brandish it in your honor. My father has asked me to assist him with a task as his heir, I will be gone for only a day or two but will return to you as soon as I make it back. If you would do me the honors, I would like to begin courting you upon my return.

                    With much love,

Your warrior with the heart of a poet.’

 She smiled softly, a warm blush creeping to her face.  She fully intended to agree to the courtship and would inform him so. She busied herself with getting ready for the day, and then opening the shop; it had most definitely picked up business since Tamlin had started swinging by.  

The days while he was gone passed quickly as long as she busied herself, if not with work in the bookshop it was with writing her own poetry collection. She had only started writing the collection after she had met Tamlin; she had written about 43 of them now, one for every visit. 

It had been late in the evening when he returned, he hadn’t even changed yet but he came knocking at her door, she had pulled him into a deep kiss.

“Well I guess that answers my question then, come up with me yo Rosehall. My father wants to meet you, he has agreed to let me court you but he would like to meet you first.” Tamlin had cheered happily, pulling her back into a kiss.

“I’d love too.” He helped her up onto the cream colored mare and jumped on behind her, his chest against her back.

The journey back to Rosehall was taken slower than when he had rode into the village; there would be gossip they both knew as they rode through town, he had one hand on her side and the other on the reins as they walked back to the grand estate. As they passed by shops, restaurants, homes, and the tavern people had been whispering either side of the path; neither seemed to care as they were caught up in their own conversations.

+

Dinner at Rosehall had gone off without a hitch, Tamlin’s father had approved of her and their relationship. They had spent the night celebrating with good drinks and eventually Tamlin’s father had dismissed himself to his room for the night. The two had stayed up for several more hours before they both agreed to head to bed, they dismissed the idea of sleeping in different rooms and he pulled her into his bed; she had borrowed one of his mother’s chemises to sleep in and he simply changed into loose trousers. Rosehall was quiet as the others' scent lulled each other to sleep. 

A commotion had startled Tamlin awake, it had come from the opposite side of the wing; he had a gut feeling on what it was about, the scent of Iron hung in the air. He held her close, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as a growl rested in the base of his throat; she clung to his arm, her heart pounding in her chest.

His door slowly creaked open as the air began to crackle with magic; Rhysand, who he had once called friend, stood there with a look of pity on his face. “I’m sorry.”

Tamlin had grabbed the dagger from his end table and extended it towards Rhys. The two slowly exited the hall where the commotion continued, a yelp and a thud followed by a scream of agony was the only thing that ended up keeping the boys from eachother’s throats.  She had ran to Tamlin the second the males both looked down the hall and turned pale, Tamlin lowered the blade and tried to cover her eyes but it wad too late and she had seen the bloody scene in the center of the hall.

Tamlin’s father was in his beast form, a giant golden wolf like creature with grand elk horns, was slumped against the wall; black oozed from the giant gash in his neck, obvious signs that fae bane had been wad the heavy sickly sweet scent that hung in the air. Across from him was a busted railing, all three had rushed forward to find Rhys’s father collapsed against the ground and impaled on some of the splintered wood; she had cried out and buried her face into Tamlins side, she should have never seen such a thing, not his little poet.

Both High Lords had twitched as the air began to crackle, they both knew what that unfortunate sound was. The males both nodded to each other and Rhys headed down the main staircase, he loomed over his father both dressed in black leathers; she watched as he stared blankly as the Night Lord wheezed his final breath, an eerie rattle that left blood seeping from the sides of his mouth. The magic in the air sharpened and separated, half ringing in her ears and around Rhysand as he absorbed the powers of the Night Lord.

The newly made night lord simply nodded at Tamlin and with a snap of his fingers the body of his father as well as his blood was gone, Rhysand turned and left the estate without another word.

Tamlin moved towards his father, who lay in beast form on the floor; the great golden hound blood gushing from the massive slit across his neck, he tried to get up and move but ultimately collapsed and blood gushed faster. Tamlin kneeled on the floor beside him, they both knew there was no coming back from this wound; there was a sorrowful understanding between the two as Tamlin dug the dagger into his fathers head, the magic buzzing loudly before his own body absorbed it like Rhys’s had.

She had witnessed so few had seen, the passing on of a High Lord and the exchange of powers; not only had she witnessed it once but she had witnessed it twice and both experiences were different, one had sent an electric buzzing through her body and the other had left a butter taste in her mouth and an ringing in her ears.

Tamlin stood and squared his shoulders. “I’m sorry you had to see this love.” He sighed, “let’s get you back to the room, get you in a bath and then i'll clean up out here, join you in the bath, make us some tea and we can try to get some sleep if you want love?”

He had put himself between Rhys and her, had brandished that sword for her; another moment she would add to the books.

+

The courtship was easy and quick, the two eventually were married and she busied herself around the manor; Tamlin dealt with high lord duties so she could work on the bookshop, she had bought a new building lined the walls with shelf upon shelf of poetry and sold the old one. ‘The Poets Rest’ it had been named.

Lucien had found his way into their hearts and home, her husband had taken him in and defended him from his family; she had helped the fox-like male mourn his lost lover only able to imagine what it would be like if she was in his shoes, they all grew into close friends.

Then Amarantha came, having fallen for the blonde male in front of the entire court and other high lords; Tamlin’s wife, his beautiful flower, had stood her ground and challenged the redheaded general. Amarantha had denied the fight, claiming he would find his way into her hands. 

The masquerade ball, she had been gifted a golden doe mask from her husband and Tamlin’s a mimicry of his beast form. Amarantha offered the two one last chance after she had taken Lucien's eye, the doe masked female trying to comfort their red-headed friend as he writhed in agony; Tamlin had stepped up in front of the two to ask what it would take for her to leave them alone, he declared he had no intention of leaving his Rosebud for her.

Amarantha hissed back a simple “We’ll see.”

Then the plagues came. Their masks bonded to their skin and panic arose, fae screamed, scratched, and ripped at the masks on their faces. She had seen many bleed out from the sheer panic, she had sought out the comfort of Tamlin only to be tipped from his arms by the red-headed general.

In the panic Amarantha had manage to hide the doe masked female that Tamlin had loved, he had thought he truly lost her and it led to him playing long with Amarantha’s plans. He led the human girl along, threw tantrums over her when he needed to, some tantrums were fake and some were real; he had learned to direct his rage and sorrow for not being able to protect her towards the human girl, all Amarantha had said to him in the aftermath was that if he played along he might have a chance to see his dear sweet wife again but the human girl couldn’t know of her. Their wedding portrait had been bitter to take down into the vaults, covered by a black cloth.

Then came the day he had to admit defeat that he just couldn’t fight anymore and just wanted to join his rosebud on the other side, but before he could declare his stance Feyre had been dragged into the throne room. He had done as Amarantha had requested now all they had to get through was her trials. Amarantha had given her a riddle and Tamlin knew the answer to it, the answer was Love, it had been a poem he referenced in his vows to his darling rose, yet he couldn’t open his mouth now if he had any chance of finding his lover.

+

Feyre had been illiterate her entire life, but when she had been tossed in the jail cell the night before her final trial she was surprised to find the hall of cells wasn't empty; a female was in the cell across from her, she looked frail and weak behind the golden deer mask.

After the guards had left Feyre had called out to the female who looked up from the book she clasped, a tattered thing with gold embossing, to ask her about the riddle.

“It's in reference to a poem.” The female had looked down into her lap, sadness deep in her eyes.

“What was the poem about?” Feyre had asked quizzically.

“A poem about Love. The answer to your riddle is love. How bittersweet it is Amarantha has picked that for you.” The female chirped back sadly.

Feyre nodded, finally able to take in the golden mask on the opposite female's face. “You're from the Spring Court.” 

“Indeed I am from a small village south of Rosehall.” The female replied. “Now if you would excuse me, I'd like to go to sleep.” The female stood from her stool and curled up onto the creaky old bed.

Feyre followed her shortly after into sleep.

Then as she rested in the cell the next morning, the doe mask had fallen from her face and the bars in front of her shattered. The curse had been broken but at such a bittersweet cost, she hobbled through the halls of the mountain till she found the throne room. Amarantha lay dead in the center of the room, a circle of high lords kneeled around the human girl; except for Tamlin as Feyre’s bones snapped and reformed into those of a high fae.

Feyre coughed and wheezed in pain as she sat up from the stone floor, everyone had expected Tamlin to kneel beside her and comfort her but when they looked up at the male he was staring at the sickly fae female clutching a golden doe mask and a worn book.

“Rosebud?“ Tamlin had choked out.

“Tam.” She had sobbed back.

He had been silent and still the entire time he was under the mountain but seeing her there, seeing her alive, had awoken the part of him that had slumbered since her disappearance and he set off into a sprint towards her. He wrapped his arms around her, spinning her, and broke into a sob himself.

“I’m so sorry, love.” Tamlin had choked over his words barely able to breathe through the tears.

“It's okay Tam. I get it.” She pressed the worn book to his chest.

Tamlin had looked down at the clothbound book and thumbed over the gold embossing. “You always were good with getting your words out through books and poetry.”

“You did what you had to do to survive, my sweet warrior, Even though your poet's heart was screaming not too. You made it out Tamlin, it's okay now, we can go back to us. You don't have to be that warrior anymore.” She soothed.

“First we have to get you back to Rosehall and nursed back to health.” Tamlin had whimpered dropping his head into her shoulder.

“Then take me home and protect me Tam.” She crooned to him and ran her free hand through his blonde hair

Taglist: @tamlinweek

[l33bang24]

OMG It’s You…(Part 11)

YouTube!Fem reader x Stray Kids

Summary: Y/N’s YouTube channel is taking off after her reactions to Stray Kids MV God’s Menu. Now she’s making videos nonstop along with working a full time job. What would happen if she got offered a job of a lifetime and met the boys of her succession?

⚠️Warnings⚠️: cursing, pet names, Chan and Minho being not smart, Chan and Minho having past history?? (lmk if I missed anything)

🏷️ : @laylasbunbunny @weirdowithaphone @silverstarburst @jusanontstuff @anxiousskylar @drewsandsebastianswife @amararosesblog @niaalove @blackbluerose666 (Taglist open)

Series Masterlist

(Authors note at the bottom)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Felix’s POV

I've never been angrier than I am right now. “Fucking pussies” I mumbled to myself. Why am I always the go-to person for fixing problems and uncovering information? I'm the golden child they can't be mad at. Maybe it's because I know how to avoid getting on their wrong side.

I stood outside Chan’s hotel door, nervously wringing my hands. Somehow, I felt like he was the safer choice between the two. Ever since his mysterious phone call, he seemed in a much better mood than Minho, who was just plain cranky. I knocked on the door and waited eagerly for Chan to open it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV

Y/N had realized she had an uncanny ability to read Minho's moods. Lately, she could tell he was feeling grumpy, likely due to her lack of communication. After a nearly disastrous call with Chan, she hesitated to reach out to Minho, even though she knew he deserved to be in the know. She finally called him as she edited a new video in her recording room.

“Hey! I was waiting for your call, Jagiya. I thought you would leave me hanging!" he answered excitedly. She chuckled and glanced to the side. "No way, Min! I'd never do that to you. I've been swamped with the channel lately. I've meant to share something with you, but there have been so many changes in my life. I'm actually about to post a video that will explain everything. I hope you know I wouldn't keep you in the dark intentionally. You mean a lot to me. I've been keeping things under wraps to surprise you and the boys. That's why I've been distant, trying not to spill the beans before the video is out.”

Minho tells her he understands; he'd just wished she had told him sooner. She tells him she'll make it up to him, which puts a big smile on his face. He feels his mood grow increasingly better than before. They continue to discuss various things in his life and what she can share about hers. Minho finally finds himself able to relax with the soothing sound of her voice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chan’s POV

As I turned the doorknob and pulled the door open, I was surprised to see Felix standing on the other side. I greeted him and inquired if he required any assistance. He expressed a desire to have a conversation with me. As I ushered him inside, we settled onto my bed, and I placed my phone nearby. Felix glanced at it before sharing his thoughts with me.

“You must be talking to a girl. Judging by your reaction when you came back into the room.” I felt the tips of my ears burning. I didn't exactly notice until I sat down and felt uncomfortable. I had to get back up and take care of myself before returning. It was embarrassing, to say the least.

“I guess it's something like that. We’re just talking, nothing serious. She just said something that made me feel a different way. I knew she wasn't doing it on purpose, but I wasn't expecting it, you know?” Felix nodded his head, understanding.

“The guys have been worried about you and Minho. It is almost as if you're both talking to the same girl. Your expressions are the same when you get a text. Minho almost massacred Han over taking his phone. Nobody wants to ask because they're afraid they'll get their heads chewed off.”

Felix huffs out a breath. “Chan Hyung, we don't want to be noisy, but we just don't want anything else to come between us again. When you and Minho fight, it's like we’re at war, and the rest of us are hiding because we don't want to get pulled into it.” He comes closer and gives me an unexpected hug. As the most affectionate member of the group, I accept it and hold it tight. We bid our goodbyes, and I crashed back on my bed.

Felix’s words brought me back to my conversation with Minho earlier today.

Flashback

As I emerged from the bathroom, I bumped into Minho, who was heading in. "Did you fix yourself in there, or do you need some assistance?" he teased as I rolled my eyes. "I can take care of myself, thank you very much."

"That's not what you said last time." I was taken aback. What was wrong with him? Without a second thought, I pulled him into the bathroom and shut the door. “Okay, you have my attention. What do you want?” I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to respond. He snickers. “What? Don't tell me you didn't like it when I helped you last time.”

“YAH! Just get to the point already!” I yell at him, clearly upset. He raises his hands, knowing he went too far on that one. “Sorry, Chan Hyung. I have to tease you occasionally, but I didn't mean to go that far.” Minho takes a moment to collect his thoughts. “I just wanted to tell you that however you've been talking to, I hope they treat you right. You deserve to be loved and cherished. I don’t normally tell you something like that, but I thought you should know that.” I smile back at him and bring him into a short hug. “Thank you, and you deserve the same. I know that none of us is making you that happy. Plus, the whole chasing after Han making death threats was a big giveaway.” Minho smiles softly, “Yeah, she's great. I hope I get to meet her someday.”

End of Flashback

We ended up chatting some more after we left the bathroom. We talked about how much we liked talking about our girls but never mentioning their names. Everything was forgotten after I received a notification that Y/N had posted a new video.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV

‘The room she's in is NOT her bedroom.’ Chan thought to himself. It was decorated with neon colors that painted her face. He didn't have long to look around as she started talking.

“Hello Lovelies! I'm sure you've been wondering why I've been absent for some time and why you haven't seen many videos. Well, I'm going to address all of that. First things first, y'all look at this room setup. I love it, plus the neon sign behind me. It's my channel name, and I can change the color of it, too.” She shows the different colors and then turns, clapping her hands excitedly. “Let me try to break this down for you. I got offered a dream job to work as a full-time creator, and with some encouragement from some extraordinary people, I leaped. I no longer work for my former job nor reside in the United States.”

At that comment alone, all eight boys shouted, “WHAT?!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N’s POV

My latest video has caused my phone to explode with notifications. I intentionally kept quiet about my location and employer, leaving the fans to figure it out independently. Meanwhile, the guys are losing it. I'm grateful that I negotiated the contract to allow me to work on my terms.

If I didn't want to come in until after 1 pm, I could do that. I also got to make my days as long as I wanted or as short as I wanted or even do the work from the apartment instead of going in. The possibilities were endless.

Every time I step into the recording room, I am captivated by its ambiance. Although it resembles a gamer's room, it is so much more. After sharing some pictures of my vision for the room, MNet brought those ideas to life. The room is painted in a serene off-white color, and the overall atmosphere is genuinely breathtaking.

As you enter the room, you are immediately drawn to the vibrant glow of the neon lights. The room's centerpiece is a sleek white table with ample storage options. A sophisticated four-monitor display with space for a laptop and peripherals is positioned on the table. The chair, crafted from luxurious leather and suede, beckons you to sit. Triangular lights adorn the wall behind the monitors, casting a soft, ambient glow. Adjacent to the chair, a stylish loveseat couch is decorated with a neon sign that reads Y/C/N.

I could already picture myself taking some great naps on that comfy couch. I wasn't confident they'd include everything, but they went above and beyond, to my surprise. They even added a fridge, microwave, coffee maker, and a small cabinet for snacks and other goodies. With all these amenities, I could almost turn this room into a cozy, tiny home.

A couple of hours later, I received a call to attend a meeting. I made my way to the designated floor and headed toward the conference room where the meeting was scheduled. As I entered, I noticed everyone was already seated, and on the table were flyers adorned with a cupid and heart-shaped arrows. I took the only available seat and prepared for the meeting to begin.

“Sorry to call you on such short notice, but we have an idea for your channel.” I tilt my head to the side. “What would that be?” A lady in the middle replies next.

“A live reaction video.”

(A/N: We’re getting closer to the good part! I'm so happy that others are enjoying this series. I didn't think it would work well, but everyone proved me wrong. If you don't know where I'm going with this idea, you're in for a treat 😉 Love y'all, and have a great day!)

[vaelzz]

It feels so odd to be treated with kindness and respect. I think people do themselves a disservice by keeping dismissive, toxic or downright negative friends, family or romantic interests in their lives. On the other hand I know how isolating it can be to cut it all out and just be left with your own thoughts in an endless echo chamber debating that you might actually be the toxic/negative, that you might be overly sensitive or perhaps selfish/narcissistic for feeling hurt over people downplaying or wilfully ignoring something you've achieved…

In worst cases downright insulted and degraded which I personally have always understood as people projecting their own insecurities and envy which helps ignore it sure but even still when it is persistent it slowly wears you down over time and serves as a way to validate your own internal negative thinking about yourself. I'd think I'd only care about what I truly think but then I'd simply let myself be exposed to negativity until it's literally hardwired into my very being and being told positive things is met with a lot of internal resistance because I truly don't believe it. The worst part is that I feel guilty for not truly appreciating kindness or affection which makes me anxious because I am unable to reciprocate and I understand it's not supposed to be like a transaction but when someone is genuinely nice to me I just melt into a puddle of confusion. This is all internal though because on the outside it's easiest to just say "Thanks!" and move on because exposing the issues I see can be seen as attention seeking or just simply draining to people which will be met with frustration and resistance from them.

But again it just feels so bizarre to have someone be genuinely appreciative. The screenshot attached to this post is an old artwork of mine reposted to the story of a new very special individual who has entered my life and it really puts into perspective the stark differences in every simple interaction. It feels so crazy to me that I'd invest so much time and energy into people that would refuse to input even the bare minimum and would even go as far to exert their own expectations followed by incessant downplay at every opportunity.

The artwork is from 2015 and it's taken on a cheap borrowed school camera at The Den Of Nargun and then further edited and painted over on my old craptop and only a mouse (R.I.P pre-tablet days) so screen was barely calibrated or accurate but it was inspired by The Hallow in Terraria which is one of my favourite games. I remember showing it to a close friend of mine this after gifting them a Canon film camera that had a good lens. (it was old and compatible with their new Canon and I used Sony so why not) But they literally said it looked like vomit which beyond irked me because whilst it's not perfect it was a prominent creation in my life when I was just 17 in highschool without many resources. I also won an acquisitive art award for it alongside another piece called An Ever Flowing Stream of Eternity, acquisitive meaning the local gallery acquired it and I was given $500 alongside some other art supply gifts which I don't like to brag about but surely it must have some merit or value for that? Certainly not vomit right?????

I guess to top it off I was only sharing it because having gifted them a camera I was recommending locations to go except they literally went 2 days later without telling me after I said I wanted to return there and retake some pictures now I am older with a better camera. Definitely some strong gaslighting there when trying to confront it but that's whatever but what really irked me was them just shoving all their photographs in my face and essentially demanding praise and getting upset if it's anything less than positive. I'd never really share much of my art or things I made because people wouldn't really care which I figured is fair enough because everyone has different tastes and there is zero expectation for someone to like or appreciate anything you do but after so many years of that you just feel so empty. Because this is just one instance but there are countless instances with plenty of other people too which is incredibly demotivating because why bother doing or sharing anything that someone is just going to devalue? Might as well focus my attention elsewhere??? Except I'd still always have that inherent drive to create and achieve things so ultimately it just led to cyclic toxic cycles of internalized perfectionism.

But now being met with something as simple and trivial as a story repost followed by being spammed likes because I felt sad about this artwork being called "vomit" and an overall general lack of appreciation after discussing some concepts around Tall Poppy Syndrome it just… idk it sort of warms my heart and honestly I was melting a bit and I felt so guilty that this person was showing kindness and appreciation towards me because I felt so underserving? The crazy thing is that it's so simple and basic yet feels so foreign to me to have someone take the time and basic thought to undertake the gesture. For the record the share and likes are meaningless, it's all just superficial social media bullshit but the simple gesture and thought is what touches me deeply yet it feels like such a basic and trivial thing so it really makes me think back to when I'd let negative people remain in my life and convince myself I'm selfish for ever having the passing thought that I'd like the same respect and energy given to be returned mutually.

[kimberleyjean]

What did Adam change? (Part 1)

To follow up on my recent reblog about the baby swap, I'm going to take a closer look at Adam where we leave him at the end of S1. Because, by the end of S1, Adam had changed quite a few things... and I'm going to use both the TV show and the book to provide evidence.

To become the Young's real son, I don't think Adam really needed to change all that much. He just says the words to Satan, Satan disappears, and that should be it, right? But no, because Adam goes much further, and I think he does it because he can.

Because Adam has opinions, you see. Opinions on how the world should be and what he wants to happen. Except, unlike Agnes, who needs to write a prophecy and then wait 300 years for her descendant to enact it, Adam can just make it so.

The Other Two Babies

I originally thought about putting all the things Adam changes into a single post, but instead I'm going to make this a short series of posts, because he changes a fair bit. Let's start with where we left off with the baby swap, crack open a copy of the book and discuss the changes for Warlock and Greasy first.

Warlock

Here's some excerpts of Warlock flying home from Megiddo to America (my bolds for emphasis):

It was Sunday afternoon. High over England a 747 droned westwards. In the first-class cabin a boy called Warlock put down his comic and stared out of the window.

...

And now he was going back to the States. There had been some sort of problem with tickets or flights or airport destination-boards or something. It was weird; he was pretty sure his father had meant to go back to England. Warlock liked England. It was a nice country to be an American in.

...

And Warlock flew on to America. He deserved something (after all, you never forget the first friends you ever had, even if you were all a few hours old at the time) and the power that was controlling the fate of all mankind at that precise time was thinking: Well, he's going to America, isn't he? Don't see how you could have anythin' better than going to America. They've got thirty-nine flavors of ice cream there. Maybe even more.

So it's Adam who has sent Warlock back to America, despite Warlock wanting (even, expecting) to be on his way to England. And he's controlling the fate of all mankind.

Greasy

Likewise, he has changes for Greasy Johnson too (the discarded baby who grows up to win prizes for his tropical fish).

The plane was at that point passing right above the Lower Tadfield bedroom of Greasy Johnson, who was aimlessly leafing through a photography magazine that he'd bought merely because it had a rather good picture of a tropical fish on the cover. A few pages below Greasy's listless finger was a spread on American football, and how it was really catching on in Europe. Which was odd… because when the magazine had been printed, those pages had been about photography in desert conditions. It was about to change his life.

Adam is deciding here how to alter Warlock and Greasy's paths. Warlock wants to be back in the UK, but Adam thinks America is better, while Greasy's magazine is changed to American football, which I guess is implying he's going to become an American footballer.

Now, not everyone may be aware, but these parts weren't in the first release of the novel. It only came about later, in the American edition. Apparently the changes were in response to prompting from the American editor, but they got "carried away" making those changes (source).

Season 3 (warning: speculation)

So, do you think this could be relevant for S3? For me personally, the fact that these bits were added later makes me wonder if this was helping to set up for a potential sequel. It's certainly poetic - just like the baby swap that originally involved all three, we are now implying a potential adolescent swap of Greasy, who is interested in American football, and Warlock, who is interested to return to the U.K.

If you've read at all about the hypothetical plot of the proposed written sequel, you'll know that it involved a trip to America, ostensibly to look for a lost Jesus. So, if the next book was originally meant to be about going and finding someone (Jesus?) in America, then Greasy or Warlock could make sense. It would be a switcheroo all over again if Warlock had left for the UK and Greasy for America.

Another alternative is that all three could end up converging in America, since Warlock already lives there and both Adam and Greasy have interests in going there. But if that's the intention, why mention that Warlock wants to be back "home" in the U.K.?

So, those are my possible takes on how this passage can be interpreted. I know there are some theories that either Greasy or Warlock may be the Second Coming. I've also seen a theory now that Adam himself could be a contender (both spawn of Satan and spawn of God - it'd certainly be interesting!). I'm not placing bets on any of these outcomes just yet.

In addition to this passage in the book, we also see some interesting changes made by Adam which are featured more prominently in the show - one's that have implications for the ineffable husbands.

Part 2 coming soon!

Thanks as always to everyone at the @ineffable-detective-agency (including @noneorother, @embracing-the-ineffable, @lookingatacupoftea, @251-dmr, @somehow-a-human, @maufungi, @havemyheartaziraphale, @theastrophysicistnextdoor, @dunkthebiscuit, @komorezuki, & @ghstptats).

[t0ast-ghost]

S3 EP8 (For The World Is Hollow And I Have Touched The Sky) welp that’s the longest title in tos and this is a long post because I was not normal about this episode

Let’s get it started:

- Immediate red alert with Spock in charge

- You think they ever held hands?

- What’s got Chapel so upset? She’s most likely right about whatever it is

- The way he kind of yells and then lowers his voice and just says, “Please, Christine. I promise I’ll give the captain a full report.” He’s not actually mad at her and he knows she’s just looking out for him but he’s scared

- Bones can’t say that he’s the one who’s dying. He can’t admit it out loud. He says that the cmo has it (not even gonna try and spell the diseases name)

- “Without me, Jim? You’d never find your way back.” My heart- oh my heart. He doesn’t want to be cut away from the crew, let alone Jim and Spock.

- Spock is standing in the transporter room like, ‘What is going on?’

- This asteroid looks like the planet where Tasha dies to the goop in TNG

- I was looking at McCoy about to beat someone up and then it was violently revealed to be a stunt double… obviously

- McCoy was fairing pretty well in that fight until he looked at that lady

- Kirk not only fighting to get to an injured McCoy but begging (he’s using his words cause he cares about him sooo much)

- Normal! Normal thoughts and feelings 🙂

- Okay I know not very relevant to anything but I’m appreciating the stairs shot

- “You will kneel.” All three of them just go, ‘okay’

- Absolutely stunning wardrobe, makeup, and hair for the priestess though

- “THEN LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO BE OUR ENEMY BEFORE YOU LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO BE OUR FRIEND.” Get fucking zapped, idiots

- mhm mhm

- Good thing Kirk’s not a doctor (especially a therapist) cause this man is NOT confidential

- Kirk looks so sad. Holy shit .

- McCoy’s like sleeping beauty, cause he’s beautiful… and sleeping I guess

- MHM YEAH. So UHM SPOCK JUST- he just grabbed McCoy’s shoulder to help him up. Why does this have me blushing???

- “Well we’d better get to the control room.” Is this just the normal procedure? Find the control room -> blow shit up

- McCoy immediately tastes the random substance

- he’s dead. (Edit: NOT McCoy! The random guy)

- He CHOSE to sit in the sluttiest way possible. No wonder everyone wants him DAMN

- ‘Bones listen, you’ve got to seduce her. For the mission.’

- I- she loves his stunning blue eyes

- “Is there a woman for you?” He takes way too long to answer this. How do you explain that she just met your two boyfriends

- I love her. I don’t care. She’s so amazing. Like “Until I saw you there was nothing in my heart. It sustained my life, but nothing more. Now it sings. I could be happy to have that feeling for a day, a week, a month…a year.”

- Hiding behind a pillar works…

- Spock and Kirk listening to Natira asking the god if she can have McCoy as her mate and both of them look so ready to attack

- GET ZAPPED IDIOTS

- “for me” 🥺🥺🥺

- THE FUCKING HAND KISS

- “You’re returning with us.” “Dr. McCoy I order you to return with us.” Kirk knows this won’t work but he’s desperately clinging onto any last thing that could keep them together

- “Your decision is most illogical, Doctor.” “Is it, Mr Spock? Is it really?” IM SORRY THIS MOMENT?!? are we? are we not going to talk about this? There’s no real fight between them here. It’s Spock telling McCoy this is ‘illogical’ because he doesn’t want him to leave. And McCoy’s reply is calling Spock out, basically acknowledging that he knows what Spock is saying but also challenging him to find another reason for him to actually stay :(((((((((

- Kirk’s going to cry. That long look from McCoy looks like he’s going to cry. He’s going to cry. I’m going to cry.

- After the breakup :( Kirk is in silent hurt and Spock is pouting (he’s gonna listen to Logical by Olivia Rodrigo after this)

- WOW. McCoy wasn’t sure if they’d actually leave him. I think, if I may speculate, that McCoy was expecting rejection (as a doctor, crew member, friend even) because of his illness. Then Natira wants him, and as she states, she’ll have him for however long she can. Now, McCoy thinking that he’ll inevitably get pushed aside by the people he’s closest to is testing them. It’s a win- win situation for him, right? Either Spock and Kirk force him to go back with them, proving they won’t leave him, or he stays with Natira for the rest of his days. Ideal situation… but I don’t think he actually thought they’d leave him.

- congrats on the marriage I guess

- I like how McCoy is still in his starfleet uniform… no I do not, let him change clothes

- “Starfleet command will take care of the situation.” They’re gonna blow it up.

- “An urgent call from dr. McCoy, sir.” This is like after a break up texting, ‘you up?’

- McCoy stops answering the phone so Kirk and Spock immediately beam down to the planet they’re banned from to save him <3

- That was a fast divorce. This is the second time that they’ve helped each other divorce someone.

- THEYRE BEING PUT IN AN OVEN

- If McCoy and Natira went to an event together everyone there would fall in love with both of them immediately

- The chin tilt. He looks down and she tilts his chin back up. I love them both

- “Which indicates that the flow of oxygen to each cell of your body is back up to its abundantly energetic level.” Spock says this and is basically smiling in relief (you have to see it to believe it)

- Kirk is still in support of his boyfriend’s wife

Honestly 10/10 episode. Thank you so much for this one.

Masterpost

Episode written by Rik Vollaerts

[otomelavenderhaze]

My Hazbin Hotel Theory 💀

So, tell me I am not the only one who finds it convenient and SHADY that Lillith won't return Charlie's calls for 7 years, and Alastor, prior, had disappeared for the same time, 7 years, until he saw Charlie on THE PICTURE SHOW and now he, an overlord, will just hang out with her and help just for personal fun.

Somehow the more he says it's for fun the less I believe in my son.

The way he shows interest in Charlie and her family, ALMOST ALMOST tells me that he's actually working with Lillith. Their goal? Simply, keep hell and stop the angels.

Do you think this asshole wants hell to end???? Look at his face, he strives in hell so much, it's like he loves the place OR THE POWER he has there. As a power-hungry sociopath, I totally believe that he would work with Lillith.

Not to mention, when Zestiel asked him, he deflected about what he was doing during those 7 years away, WHY A GUY LIKE RADIO DEMON WOULD WANT TO HIDE ANYTHING?

I saw theories of people saying that he will betray hell, brother, hell is his backyard, my guy is basically, running the show and I bet that's what he really wants getting close to Lillith and Charlie: run the place, but without the help of angels (because all that those angels want is to destroy and spoil his fun).

Also, the timing, to be at Charlie's side when she most needed someone? His interest in going to the overlords meeting after 7 years away? The death of an angel, after what, centuries, like it NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE? My guy is digging because someone tipped him to start digging, and the only person with enough power to have that kind of information is either Lillith or Lucifer (but I don't think Lu will get off his ass anytime soon, Lillith seems to be the one pulling the strings).

I can't wait to see Alastor interacting with them, if I am wrong, okay, I am wrong, it wouldn't be any surprise, HOWEVER, that's the fun of theories.

Not to mention: he's hiding something. He's too sussy to not. That sussy baka!

Edit: Maybe what Alastar really want is just destroy all the devil tvs in hell and become a true media king, I wouldn't be surprise if this is all for his own self-serving interest in the end, cuz he was beat by the tv demon - THEN Alastor disappeared, it wouldn't surprise me if he just wants revenge.

Saving hell maybe just a consequence of keeping it in place so he can make his revenge against the tv demon happen.

Edit, of the edit: with episode 5 we came to know that Alastor have actually done a deal, but I don't think it was with any overlord, Veggie on the Pilot says that Alastor is the first who came to hell with such raw power and nobody knows exactly what he is or what enable him to rival the power old overlords......... Lilith has the power of creation apparently by what Charlie said in the first episode, doing a deal with Alastor for his soul.... wouldn't she be able to give him the power he needed to make a name for himself?

What if it's Lilith who's making Alastor help Charlie? Or even better, what if Alastor thinks that Charlie is his ticket to freedom? If he helps with the hotel, create a bond with her, Charlie can intercede for him, maybe even get his soul back.

If that's the case... that makes me kinda sad, I was expecting that his reasons to help with the hotel wouldn't be so self serving, but I guess that's the Radio Demon for you.

[butterflydm]

wot rewatch (book spoilers edition): 2x3

And here are my additional thoughts that contain spoilers through all the teasers and the books through book 13: A Memory of Light.

I was watching show-only reviews to try to figure out if it's safe to call Ishy 'Ishamael' yet but reaction seems mixed on whether or not Moiraine's words clued people in on the situation, so I'm going to stay ambiguous about him in my book spoiler-free posts for now.

I loved the changes that the show made to all Nynaeve's tests. They all make sense in context of the show and Nynaeve's character, they all tell us something about her, and there's also some great connective threads between them. We've known for a while (or guessed) that her first test would take place when she was a kid because her mom appeared in the casting lists... quite a few months ago. Ages ago. But I definitely prefer this one to the book version. It was so heartrending and touching.

2. The crimsonthorn strand throughout the tests is very interesting to me. I talked about this in the other post, but on a more spoilerly note, I like that the show is not defaulting to "all the Wondergirls feel a draw towards Green because They Like Men" and that Nynaeve is actually getting tugged between Yellow and Red in these last two episodes, as Liandrin tries to influence her. It makes me wonder if maybe they'll have Elayne incline towards maybe Brown ("I like to tinker with things") instead of Green. Though Nynaeve did put Egwene in the Green Ajah in her personal AU (which did such a good job in only using elements that Nynaeve was aware of when she went into the arches! No Elayne in Nynaeve's AU; and no Rand because she believes him to be dead).

4. Side note: thrilled that Nynaeve does not have to be naked for the test. The amount of times that women have to strip down for rituals in the books gets pretty ridiculous (especially when men doing the same kind of ritual -- ex. going to Rhuidean -- does not require them to strip). Stripping down to her shift makes the point well enough.

5. A thought I had about the people attacking the Two Rivers -- could this have been happening during the Andoran Succession Crisis that led to Morgase being Queen? And so the Queen's Guard, instead of keeping the roads clear of bandits, were busy with the civil war among the nobility, which let bandits get even as far as the Mountains of Mist. That could actually serve as a really good reason for the Two Rivers to basically nope out of being part of Andor -- "you were so busy squabbling amongst yourself that you let bandits rove the lands and kill innocent people". I'm not certain if the timeline matches up, but I will put it out there as a theory.

6. Her second test is based on the same worries that she had in the books -- that she's abandoned the Two Rivers and she won't be there when they need her and someone who isn't a good Wisdom will have taken over for her -- but shifted the details to hit harder in the show version, and to use characters that the show viewers are already familiar with. It really worked for me. I also liked them essentially using Perrin's lies about Rand to Tam in the books for Nynaeve here instead, where it makes a lot more sense -- she doesn't want to steal the only comfort that she can give a dying man by telling him that his son is dead.

7. Liandrin genuinely got herself invested in Nynaeve! I liked seeing that. I really like that the show is giving more emotional depth to our Darkfriends. Both Sheriam and Liandrin come across as very genuinely upset that Nynaeve hasn't returned through the arches. Because they both think of themselves as the good guys! Liandrin's motives in the show seems to be along the lines of "You need to have power so that others can't have power over you" while Sheriam's in the books were about being Black Ajah essentially to get ahead in the Tower but never expecting that she would actually need to do anything TOO terribly bad in exchange. Neither of them wanted Nynaeve to die or get hurt (they were both probably hoping to turn her to the Black Ajah). It's also really funny that it's entirely possible that they do not know that the other one is also Black Ajah.

8. Theory: being able to sense latent channelers may be a Talent rather than something either everyone or no one can do. Because it's one specific damane who comes out to point out the individual women to get dragged off to be damane, rather than it being the two women who were used to attack the village.

They are hitting the dehumanization angle hard. Egwene's 'training' is going to be so hard to watch.

9. Ishamael doesn't seem like he was expecting to find Perrin here, so I don't think Ingtar has been in regular contact with him. I really do wonder where exactly the Darkfriend social happened, timeline-wise, to the rest of the season thus far.

10. Ah, goodbye, Uno. I'll miss you, but you went out like a boss. Given the changes that were made to the plot, this does make a ton of sense -- Uno is not a man who backs down easily and he's also not a plot-relevant character really... ever, at any point. He's a fun character for flavor but someone who can be sacrificed to illustrate a narrative point without needing to change any of the story in the future.

11. Changing Logain to being able to see men who can channel as opposed to ta'veren makes a lot of sense on a practical level -- Mat was sitting right next to Rand, so if he saw ta'veren, then he would have seen both of them glowing; making it about Rand being a channeling focuses Logain's attention and memory in on Rand specifically.

12. Rand being kept out of the knowledge loop here kinda cracks me up because "Rand is on an information diet" is something that kept coming up in the books and it frustrated me so much because, in the books, it was consistently a result of his allies just never being willing to tell him a fucking thing ever unless he bullied them into it or spied on them. It makes a lot more sense here that he doesn't know what's going on with anyone else's plotlines! Taking something frustrating from the books and making it make sense is a really good habit that the show has been doing.

13. Lanfear continues to be the funniest girl in the world. She is just on cloud nine so far in s2, cruising along living her best life. Also, we see that her inn cheekily has her personal symbols as their sign.

14. Given how much Rand is experiencing the class divide in Cairhien and how much he's seen the poor get mistreated and looked down on by the rich and titled, I almost wonder if he isn't going to get a bit of Mat's arc from the books when he finds out that Elayne is a noble and needs to realize that she's not like the Cairhienin nobles.

15. Mat escaping from one abusive situation only to land right into another one definitely reminds me of the Tylin->Tuon pipeline in the books, of course. The main difference being is that we're dealing with mother figures in the show and not 'romances' (please take that word with a very large grain of salt). Possibly the biggest way that they can set Mat x Tuon up for success is actually showing us her relationship with her mother and how toxic and cruel the environment that she grew up in is. I feel like not killing off the old Empress at all and instead having Tuon take over a faction of the people and split off them off from the Empire would give us a sense that she really IS Not Like The Other Seanchan, instead of just wanting people to believe Mat when he says it despite there being no evidence in Tuon's actual behavior (I'm trying to remember who originally suggested that idea, but it was a while ago, so I have forgotten; I'm sorry!).

16. Liandrin grinding in to Mat how worthless and what an awful friend he is will, presumably, be some pretty good setup for him to show himself to be both loyal and vital in the final episode, though there will probably be more pain for him in the upcoming episodes (maybe involving what happens with Min's viewing about him stabbing Rand).

17. Lanfear is buzzing on such a high of getting show off of her Personal Dragon to a fancy group of lords and ladies at the start of this party.

18. Rand's conversation with Moiraine's sister is particularly fascinating! There's a queen of Cairhien but I suspect that it's not a Damodred (maybe I'll be wrong and Anvaere is the queen! We'll see!). That Anvaere reaches out to the mysterious ~outlander lord~ and shares so much with him is very intriguing, especially if we end up seeing her again later in the season (once Moiraine arrives in Cairhien?).

18. Here is where the cracks in Lanfear's illusion of perfect happiness with her New Lews Therin are beginning to show: he's keeping secrets from her, he's doubting her, and then he just leaves her behind. She is probably getting some very unhappy flashbacks right about now.

19. I wonder if Rand's bad experience with Logain here will inform his choices in the future. In the books, there isn't really a good reason for him to give Taim free rein over the school, but if it's more of a "Taim vs Logain" situation and he already doesn't trust Logain (and Taim appears less affected by the madness), then him trusting Taim might make more sense.

20. Mat being released from a prison cell and not knowing where to go and then (temporarily in this case) returning to his prison gives me echoes of "Mat inexplicably appears by magic in Ebou fucking Dar, a place that treated him like shit for months" from A Memory of Light, lol.

21. Perrin feeling wary about getting too wolfy because of his encounter with Ishamael feels like a much better reason that we got in the books... though I wonder if we'll follow it up by having him meet... shit, the guy who lost himself to the wolf; do not remember his name. But I'm thrilled to have him hanging out with Elyas and the wolves (Hopper?) for now.

22. Liandrin calling Mat Cauthon, agent of chaos, "nothing if not predictable" feels like it needs to bite her in the ass at some point.

23. Yeah, on rewatch, the sex dream is definitely Lanfear feeling like she can finally show her possessiveness and anger in Rand's dream. She is MAD at him for keeping secrets and leaving without her, but she can't show it when he's awake because it doesn't fit her carefully crafted persona. She does NOT like her men with an air of mystery -- she wants to know every tiny thing that he's thinking and feeling. I wonder if Rand actually did light the roof on fire or if Lanfear helped it along -- she's definitely taking advantage of his vulnerability in the aftermath of the fire. "If you ever leave me like that again, I will kill you." Yeah, that's absolutely Lanfear.

And, you know, her inn burning down does mean that she doesn't have to worry about dealing with it anymore. Now that she's had a taste of Rand in fancy coats, I think she probably wants to try to figure out a way to make it happen again.

24. Nynaeve's dream does have a couple of painful easter eggs in it -- Mat gets a wound over his eye; Perrin gets killed by an axe.

Nynaeve does forcibly bring back the arches in the books too, just without so much happening in the illusionary life. But I liked this a lot because of how much it gave us from the other characters who believed that Nynaeve was dead.

25. So, my theories about what we might get in episode four. Wow.

Rand's trajectory... I don't think he's done with Logain. But I feel like ep4 is going to be a big one for him, based on the title (Daughter of the Night). Rand may find out the truth about Selene in this episode, which would be a. be a pretty big betrayal but also b. might make him realize that it's not likely that the Dark One is actually dead.

Moiraine is presumably on her way to Cairhien right now, but it doesn't seem like she thinks Rand himself is there, but more that she's investigating the poem situation, so they may run across each other by accident.

Everyone is going to get to react to Nynaeve powering her way out of the arches (like a boss). I am very curious if Lan is going to spend an episode in the Tower before going after Moiraine... but if Actual Lan goes to the Tower... hard to imagine he wouldn't tell Nynaeve, at least, that Rand is still alive. He knows how deeply Nynaeve cares about the Two Rivers kids.

Unless Liandrin tricks Nynaeve, Elayne, and Egwene into leaving the Tower before Lan arrives there?

Where are Mat and Min going! Mat can't be going after Egwene & co to save them because... nothing to save them from at the moment. Where would Liandrin want him to be led? Falme? I mean, maybe, but he can't channel, so it's not a secure prison for Mat like it would be for the girls.

Perrin's storyline is going to teach us more about the Seanchan and wolfbrothering, I imagine. Maybe some scouting. He can truthfully tell any Seanchan soldiers (if he runs across any) that he's taken the oaths.

Will we follow right on from episode 3 or is there going to be a timeskip to give the characters some time to travel to new locations?

[onboardsorasora]

Idk where this came from lol. Late birthday Max post I guess? not edited sorry

Part 1 | Part 5

Part 6

Max hung up the phone with a large grin. He'd just spent the last hour chatting to his mother and sister after they called to wish him a happy birthday. At least they weren’t too sad of the last minute change of plans. Walking out of his sim room, he stilled at the empty living room. 

He expected to see Daniel curled in the couch with the cats as that seemed to be his regular state of being. Instead, he could see Jimmy standing on the top of their cat tree, watching something.

Walking around the corner, Max froze. Daniel was hurrying around the kitchen, muttering under his breath and counting on his fingers. Sassy watched him from atop the cupboards. Daniel was, well it looked like he was trying to cook or bake. Max wasn’t too sure. There was flour everywhere, coating the countertop and Daniel in a white dusting.

“Oh no.” Daniel muttered sadly, and then sniffed. And alarm bells went off in Max’s head. Daniel was sad, but why?

Rushing into the kitchen, Max gently pried the glass bowl out of Daniel’s shaking hands. Steadily, Max looked him over– checking to make sure he was alright.

“Max!” Daniel was surprised, he hastily wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. Somehow managing it even though Max held his hands.

“Daniel– is everything alright? Are you ok?” Max’s brow creased in concern.

“I–” Daniel cut himself off and looked away. He looked miserable. Max noted worriedly that a petal fell off of the rose.

“Daniel, please tell me what’s wrong. Are you hurt?” Max asked a little more frantically. Daniel was worrying him.

Daniel looked up with watery brown eyes, Max’s chest clenched, he never wanted to see such an expression on his face ever again. He would do anything to make it go away.

“It's your birthday.” Daniel whispered sadly. And Max froze, oh.

“Yes, its my birthday. Does that make you sad?” Max asked quietly.

“You had to change your plans because I’m here. You can’t see your Mama.” Daniel bit his lip, “I ruined your birthday. And I can’t even bake you like a cake. Mama taught me a recipe but I can’t remember it. I’m so silly.” Daniel sniffed pathetically and Max’s eyes widened. Oh

Daniel must have heard his phone call, but they were speaking Dutch. Does Daniel know Dutch?

Deciding not to worry about that, Max cupped Daniel’s flour smeared face. He swiped at the wetness below Daniel’s eye, he should never cry– it didn’t suit him at all.

“Daniel, no. You didn’t ruin anything. I’m happy you’re here.” He soothed, or at least tried to. “You can ask Sassy or Jimmy, they wouldn’t lie, right?” Max looked at his cats as if waiting for them to back him up.

Daniel nodded slightly, “cats never lie.” He sniffed. “But Max its your birthday.” He whispered, still waiting for something to happen apparently.

“It's my birthday and I’m happy you’re here, Daniel. My mother and Vic can come over this week and we can celebrate ok? I promise.” He held up his pinky between them, watching as Daniel’s eyes widened and he scrutinized Max’s face for lies.

With a sniff, Daniel hooked their pinkies together.

“Great! Now let's clean this up and we can order some cake and ice cream. Is that ok?” Max asked lightly, looking around to see what wasn’t covered by flour. He was taken aback when Daniel flung his arms around his neck, pressing his face into Max’s shoulder in a hug.

“I’m happy I’m here too Max. Happy Birthday.” Daniel whispered. Max could only wrap his arms around Daniel in return, even as his heart fluttered in his chest.

Part 7

[roppongiivice]

idk kind of a chuck taylor rant(?)/realization/speculation post (idk what to call it)

so I don’t think we have to worry about an actual retirement. I’m starting to think that he is just going under surgery and will return soon after he recovers

bcs i think they would’ve removed him if he was for real retiring… like how they removed ethan page (💔) after he left. he’s still on the active roster…

and if he was for real retiring wouldn’t his friends have made a post about him..? would he or tony khan have something posted on the official accounts that isn’t just the video of orange cassidy saying he’s retiring????

idk im trying to ease all of our minds i guess bc it’s kinda just sudden… and not something any of us would’ve expected i guess

idk i just want all of us chuck fans to be okay,, i yall wanna talk here i am 🫶

-

edit: idk if they’d have trent bragging about it like that either of it was real soo,,, but i know that we never know,, so it’s just thought soo,,, let me know what you think or if im wrong abt something 😅