#kiki does rates

[seonghwaddict]

the lamb and the wolf — park seonghwa

in which all he wanted was someone to love in his dark, lonely world… and then you came along.

hades!park seonghwa x fem!reader. genre. strangers to lovers. fluff. smut. warnings. he’s literally obsessed with mc, ankle injury, alcohol consumption, mention of cannibalism as a metaphor for love but it’s not really explicit, mc is described as innocent, explicit sexual content mdni, oral (f. receiving), unprotected, soft dom!hwa, big dick!hwa, praise, creampie. wc. 7.2k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. i’ve been working on this for two-ish months and i’m so happy to finally share it. writing this was fun, i love writing men infatuated with their lovers <33 the letter he reads does not belong to me and comes from “Albert Camus, María Casares. Correspondence (1944-1959)” which is a collection of love letters sent between camus and casares. this particular one is letter #95.

listening to. from persephone, kiki rockwell // sunlight, hozier // liquid smooth, mitski // cinnamon girl, lana del rey // nothing’s gonna hurt you baby, cigarettes after sex

masterlist.

the realm of the dead was terribly dark and cold and, as the name would suggest, barren of life. for seonghwa, the ruler of the underworld who had spent thousands of years in the realm, this hadn’t been a problem before. yet, he couldn’t deny the temptation of the distant sounds of chirping birds and gentle breezes humming through the air above.

he was, of course, free to leave whenever he wished to but more often than not he was busy—ruling over the souls that had passed or meetings with nymphs and the other deities. there had never been an inclination to explore, but somehow he found himself taking curious steps out of the cave entrance to his world.

and that’s where he saw you.

you weren’t a long way away from the entrance to the underworld, idling in a meadow and picking flowers and berries in a woven basket. the sunlight glinted off your rich skin, glistening on you manicured nails as your hands tended to the plants. the slow wind wafted through your soft-looking hair, making it dance in the air. he was entranced by the way the skirt of your dainty silk dress flowed as you moved around, hypnotised by the ivory fabric folding and brushing against your ankle with every step. you were beautiful in every sense of the word—but not the soft and comforting kind. no, not at all. in fact, he was quite alarmed by the notion of being so infatuated with a mortal at first glance.

seonghwa knew he was doomed from the moment he laid eyes on you. he wanted nothing more than for you to glance his way, willing to split himself in half or carve his heart right out of his chest to get a second of your attention. you spoke to yourself softly, muttering about how pretty you thought the little branch of lilac you plucked out of a bush was.

oh, how lovely your voice sounded; even the sun would not compare to it’s dulcet warmth.

a brilliant idea crossed his mind, one that he knew would get you to fall right in his grasp. and minutes later, he was able to conjure up a disturbingly realistic illusion of a rain storm. he descended back into his realm and all he had to do was wait.

you, however, flinched as the first droplets hit you. looking around for shelter, you spotted a cave entrance just a little way ahead, scrambling to sit there and wait for the storm to pass. the ground and walls felt cold against your body, nothing to separate your skin from the dark stone but your gown that was now soaked through and clung to your body.

minutes after you had sat down, a vaguely familiar scent breezed past you and had your head darting to look into the deeper part of the cave. there was no way it came from outside, not a single house in sight as the dewy smell of rain overtook the meadow. so your next most likely assumption was that it came from inside the cave. you stared into the seemingly endless abyss, squinting into the darkness for signs of, well, anything other than rocks and dirt.

and that’s when you saw it. a brief flickering flame, metres away from where you were sat. in the seconds that it lit, you could faintly make out what looked to be a staircase, descending further into a cave. an intrigued hum left you as you pushed yourself up from the ground and walked to the strange stairs, basket of berries and flowers left behind. there’s a reason they say curiosity killed the cat.

it was significantly colder as you stood at the top of the carved stairs, staring as far as you could see before they winded around and further into the unknown. another light came on, this time around the corner the stairs disappeared behind. with a final look at the exit of the cave, you began your unknowing descent into hell.

the light behind you flickered before going out, leaving you in darkness until you passed by the next torch, mounted on the damp stone. you planted your hand on the wall, afraid you’d lose your footing as each flame only lit the foreign path temporarily. the deeper you went, the colder you got. by the time you thought the stairs were endless, you could see faint puffs of white air emerging from your shaking lips with each breath you took. shivers ran through your body occasionally, your wet dress not doing anything to keep you warm.

just when you were going to give up and turn around to return to the surface, you stumbled at the unexpected absence of yet another step. your faint wince echoed through the small space as you rolled your ankle, instinctively holding yourself against the stone wall. your hand slipped from the wall for a second, a pebble falling and rolling until it stopped with an odd “clink.” you looked up in confusion to see what made the pebble stop with such a sound. looking with wide, bewildered eyes, a black and engraved set of double doors stood a few steps ahead of you. had they been there the whole time?

maybe someone lived there, someone who could help you. your father kept you safe and sound for as long as you could remember, teaching you to always see the best in people, rendering you a little sheltered and much too kind. perhaps this is what made you so trusting as you forced yourself to walk to the doors on limping legs. both doors had beautiful metal knockers mounted on them. the rusted brass resembled three dog heads, a heavy metal ring hanging from the snout of the dog in the middle. more than mildly nervous and with cold, shaking hands, you reached forward and tentatively lifted the ring of the right door before letting it knock against the dark wood.

moments later it swung open, held by a tall, pale-skinned man with slim fingers. for a moment you forgot what you were there for, caught off guard by the sharp eyes that looked down at you. your warm breath swirled in the air as you finally pieced together a sentence.

“i’m sorry, sir, but… i-i really meant to leave but i hurt my ankle…” you spoke quietly, your voice an octave higher than it usually was.

his gaze softened, the light of a torch on the wall reflecting in his dark eyes, and he smiled down at you as he opened the door wider and stepped aside. “oh, you poor thing. please, come inside.”

seonghwa watched you walk past him and into this home he had conjured up just for your arrival. it was quite dark, illuminated by a fireplace and candelabras decorating shelves and tables. he didn’t care enough to provide more light, completely entranced by the way you kneeled in front of the hearth, hands outstretched to warm them by the fire. they looked so much smaller compared to his. seeing you up close made his heart skip a beat, he wanted nothing more than to lay his hands on your smooth skin, run them through your damp hair, pat the thin and wet flowing dress dry and keep you warm. droplets of the rain ran from the top of you head down your face slowly, occasionally getting caught in your eyebrows or the corner of your beautiful lips.

he wondered fleetingly if they felt as soft as they looked. another bead of rain made it past your features, trailing past your jawline and neck. his eyes tracked it but when it disappeared under the fabric covering your chest, he refused to continue looking.

you felt his presence standing beside you a moment later, drawing your eyes—your naïve, innocent eyes—to look up at him. he offered you a hand to help you stand.

“come, love, let me take a look at your ankle,” he smiled at you kindly, pulling you up helpfully as you took his hand. once you stood, you stumbled slightly, accidentally putting weight on your injured ankle and wincing. one of his arm quickly looped itself around your waist, holding you up against him so you wouldn’t fall.

his touch was gentle yet you felt a certain firmness to it, feeling as if his warm hand was searing through your cold gown. your cheeks burned and you looked away shyly, something that had him biting back a smile as he guided you to sit at one of the sofas. he was mildly surprised by how small and delicate you felt in his arms. you felt fragile. there was something so seductive about that, the thought of breaking you in the most intimate of ways. but soon he had to let you go. after you settled into the cushions of the seat, his movements caught your eye.

your jaw nearly dropped when you saw him kneeling on the ground before you. though you weren’t aware of it, something made you so special that you had a god getting on the ground on his knees in front of a mortal. his dark eyes found yours, voice as gentle as it had been the whole time.

“may i?”

when you gave him a small nod, not trusting yourself to say anything, his hand grazed your calf before gently wrapping around your ankle and lifting it to rest on his thigh. despite his intimidating and malicious role among the deities, he was softer with you than anyone could ever imagine. he slipped off your shoe but kept your sock on, dragging the ruffled trim just under your heel so he could inspect the swelling at your ankle. the ruffles tickled you as he moved it, eliciting the most melodic giggle he’d ever heard.

when he glanced up at you, a smile stretched your tempting lips and making your smooth cheeks swell as you looked back down at him. he couldn’t help but smile, endeared by everything you did.

“it tickles.” you explained through another giggle, looking down at him. as his gaze returned to your ankle, you took note of how close he was. if he leaned forward just a little he’d be able to brush his plump lips along your knees. he knew that, of course, since he planned it. every touch, every position, every word had been meticulously planned, it was no surprise to him how close be found himself.

well, other than you getting injured, everything had been planned.

his slender finger pressed against different areas of your swollen ankle with featherlight pressure, gauging where it hurt most. you winced occasionally, but a certain spot made you flinch and whimper.

“there?” he whispered, looking up at you. his gaze was still tender as he gazed at you, his fingers pressing against that spot again with just a little more pressure. you knew he needed to check if it was really that spot, but in reality he wanted nothing more than to hear those lovely sounds tumble from your lips. to his delight, you did just that, bottom lip quivering slightly with the sound as you nodded. his gaze fell to your lips and he imagined kissing you, sucking your lower lip into his mouth, but he refocused his thoughts on your injury quickly.

“how did you even hurt yourself like this?” his other hand moved to the knee of your uninjured leg, thumb brushing small circles soothingly.

“i missed a step on the stairs and rolled my ankle.” you frowned slightly, the cute downturn if the corners of your lips almost making him coo at you. you leaned forward to catch a glimpse of your ankle but it was hard to see in the dim light provided by the fireplace and various candelabras around on shelves.

“i see… how careless of you, dear,” he tutted, fingers tapping against your knee absentmindedly, “but it’s okay, don’t worry. it’s just a small injury… wait here for a moment while i go get something, alright?”

you nodded once more and he got up, disappearing through a doorway as your eyes traced over his figure. you looked around the room as you waited patiently. it was a simple sitting room slash entrance area at first glance, but upon looking closer you found there were many little breathtaking details littered around for those who cared enough to find them. intricately embroidered golden designs decorating the wine red carpet beneath your feet, the shelves lining the wall on either side of the fireplace stocked with worn books neatly.

silent brisk steps drew your eyes back to him as the handsome stranger returned, a little glass bottle and roll of bandages held in his hands. his cheeks warmed at the sight of you sitting there so pretty and obediently. seonghwa kneeled in front of you once again and brought your foot to the same position as before.

“i’m going to apply this,” he held up the bottle for you to see, a mysterious deep blue liquid swishing around inside, “it’ll be cold and it might hurt a bit, but i promise to be gentle, okay?” after you nodded silently, he uncapped the bottle and poured a bit into his hand. “i’ll need you to stay still and relax. can you do that for me, love?”

after you gave him a muttered ‘yes’ he flattened his palm over the swelling. true to his word, the liquid he had poured into his hand was icy cold and stung a little as he rubbed it in as gently as possible. if you had to describe the feeling, you’d compared it to hundred of pinpricks concentrated on one area. it was uncomfortable, to say the least.

your eyes squeezed shut and your hands dug into the couch beneath you. you felt his touch leave your knee but a second later his hand found it’s way to yours, slipping between your fingers for you to hold him instead of tearing up his couch. he squeezed reassuringly and his heart swelled when you squeezed back.

before you knew it, his warm voice filled the silence of the room. “all done. you can open your eyes now, darling, you did so well.”

you eyes opened slowly at his words and looked down. he was peering up at you with round caring eyes, making your stomach flutter. his hand on your ankle lingered before he pulled away so you could have a look at the bandages wrapped around it skilfully, his other hand still intertwined with yours.

“thank you…?” you trailed off, indirectly asking for his name. despite him being a stranger, you somehow trusted this handsome man with your life. perhaps it was because he had shown you nothing but kindness thus far, every one of his actions illuminating warmth and care.

“of course. the ointment works fairly quickly, so you should be free to walk around just fine for a few hours at least,” his lips tugged into a small grin. he thought you were so cute, too shy to be upfront about your interest in him.

he wasn’t blind, your increased heart rate below his touch didn’t go unnoticed by him. for a moment, he considered lying to you—introducing you to an identity that didn’t exist in fear that you’d run away from him once he revealed himself. however, soon enough he came to the conclusion that he wanted you to love him, not some made up caricature. besides, he didn’t have to tell you about his occupation just yet. “it’s seonghwa.”

you tested the syllables on your tongue and he could’ve sworn honey poured right out of your mouth with how sweet you sounded. he nodded encouragingly and you gave him your name. he decided it fit you and your serene disposition. you watched with a warming face as he lifted your hand to his lips, eyes locked on yours as he kissed your knuckles.

“pleasure to make your acquaintance, love.” he winked smoothly before standing from the ground, pulling you off the couch with him. his eyes glanced down at your dress. it was still wet but not nearly as drenched as it was before, though it still clung to your body, teasing him. “you must be uncomfortable. if you want, i probably have a change of clothes for you.”

you smiled at his invitation gratefully, nodding. “i’d love that, thank you.”

“down that hall,” he pointed in the direction he went earlier to get that odd liquid, “the second door on the right is a bedroom. you’ll find some clothes in the closet, i think they’ll fit you.”

you took a step towards the hall before stopping and turning around to look at him with a questioning gaze. it didn’t take a genius to figure out what you were thinking. he fumbled to find a convincing excuse, speaking slowly. “my, uh, sister used to live with me but she moved away recently, so her clothes are still there.”

the explanation satisfied you and he watched as you followed his instructions, eyes drawn to the way you hips swayed slightly with each step. you stepped through the door he told you to, yellow candlelight seeping into the hallway before you closed it behind you. but it didn’t close fully and left you visible through the sliver. he forced his eyes away when he caught a glimpse of you pulling your gown off yourself.

just as he said, you found many suitable clothes in the shelves of the wooden dresser. the room itself was quite plain, though the bed looked more than comfortable. there were many options, though all of them seemed to be dresses of some kind. long or short, dark or pastel, silk or cotton, and everything in between. finally you settled on a flowy white nightgown, the skirt brushing against your thighs. you pulled on some clean socks and slippers and dried your hair as best you could with a towel you found before stepping out to join him in the sitting room again.

but when you got there, he was nowhere to be found. looking around in confusion, you breathed a sigh if relief when you heard him call your name for another room, beckoning you to join him. upon entering said room, it quickly became apparent it was a dining room.

the walls were practically black, much like the rest of the house so far, and made the room appear much darker than it probably actually was despite the multiple candelabras on the long wooden table and the extravagant chandelier hanging from the ceiling. he sat at the chair on the left of the head of the table, a meal set in front of the head. he gestured for you take a seat in front of it. you obliged quickly.

his eyes roamed over your figure, lips parting in a soft exhale at the sight of your bare thighs. fleetingly, he came to the conclusion he wanted to bury his head between them, let them squeeze and suffocate him as he ravished you. before he could further entertain those thoughts, the squeak of the chair brought him out of his head.

“i figured you’d be hungry, so i made a little something for you,” he spoke as you got comfortable in the seat, pushing a glass of water towards you, “i hope it’s up to your standards, dear.”

you gazed down at the bowl of what appeared to be chicken soup with vegetables before looking back up at him. “you’re too kind, really, you didn’t have to do all this for me.”

he was more than delighted by your kindness and manners, looking at him so cutely with the candlelight dancing in your eyes magically. “no but i did have to. i can’t have you sitting here, injured and starved… plus, it’s nice to have company.”

“oh?” his final sentence piqued your interest, fiddling with the handle of your spoon. “you don’t get a lot of company?”

he really didn’t, other than the souls that made down here after their bodies passed on. but that’s a conversation for another time. he shook his head slightly, lifting a glass of wine you hadn’t noticed before to his lips. he let it sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it and returning his gaze to you.

“not very often, no…” he explained slowly, setting the glass back on the table with a quiet clink before folding his hands beside it, elegant as ever, “people don’t tend to come all the way down here and i don’t tend to invite people over.”

a frown tugged at you lips and you turned your gaze away, feeling slightly ashamed. “i’m sorry to have bothered your peace then, seonghwa.”

he tensed, hands gripping each other just a little tighter. why on earth were you ashamed, why were you apologising? he reached over and placed a hand over your free one, momentarily distracted by how soft it felt in his grip before he was quick to reassure you. “oh no, darling, don’t you dare apologise. you’re not bothering me at all, really. it’s been a long time since i’ve enjoyed someone’s company this much.”

“r-really?” you finally looked at him again, the warmth returning to his stomach as he faintly noticed one of the straps threatening to fall off your shoulder.

“really,” he reaffirmed, turning your hand over so he could hold it properly, “i should be thanking you, if anything.”

you averted your gaze once again, this time feeling shy rather than ashamed; a fact that had him grinning. soon enough, you began eating your soup, humming at the taste approvingly after the first taste. you conversed leisurely as you ate, jumping from subject to subject naturally as if you’d known each other for years. you asked him why he wasn’t eating with you, to which he said he’d already eaten and didn’t feel hungry. this was, of course, a lie since deities like him don’t need to eat anyway.

eventually, you finished, slumping back in your seat with a yawn. “that was absolutely amazing. thank you, hwa.”

the new nickname had his cheeks tinting a soft pink but he hid it quickly. he watched you yawn. somehow everything you did felt adorable to him, the urge to scoop you up in his arms to hold you tightly and kiss you softly growing stronger by the second. if he weren’t a man with unrivalled self-restraint and patience, he would’ve done it by now.

“someone’s tired, huh?” he cooed at you, crossing one leg over the other. “you should go sleep in the room you got the clothes from. i’d prefer for you to stay until your ankle is fully healed, just in case.”

you nodded slowly, another yawn ripped from your throat as you got up and stretched your arms over your head. the movement caused the skirt of your nightgown to ride up, his breath hitching as he realised if it went up any further head be able to see your lacy white undergarments you’d borrowed from the dresser too. he distracted himself with a chuckle, standing up and guiding you out of the dining room to the bedroom by the small of your back.

before you knew it, you were on your back on the bed of the bedroom that supposedly belonged to his sister. your dress fell over your body entrancingly, tempting his hungry eyes as he stood over you, adoring the way your hair laid on the satin pillow. you turned to your side and curled up with your knees pulled to your chest. he caught a glimpse of your lacy panties before they fell over the swell of your ass as if they hadn’t moved in the first place.

thoughts swarmed his mind, none of them appropriate. he imagined your legs wrapped around his waist, burying himself into the curve of your neck, sculpted for his face to fit right there. he longed to feel your soft curves against his fingers, not a single layer of clothing separating you.

“hwa?” the way you said his name made his thoughts snap to reality as his eyes found yours. the nickname sounded so wonderful with your voice, he wanted to bottle up the sound and keep it safe on a shelf for the rest of eternity. not only that, but the way you looked at him, lips parted softly with small breaths, cheeks flushed, and eyes looking wide and innocent. oh, how innocent you smelled to him. he was torn between preserving it and corrupting it.

“yes, love?” he whispered back, brushing a strand of your hair from you face as casually as possible.

“thank you… for everything,” you whispered, peering up at him with those same glittering round eyes, “i’ll be sure to repay you for your kindness when i can.”

“there’s no need, really. it’s nothing,” he chuckled quietly, gaze flitting all over your features—you fluttering eyelashes, the slope of your nose, the curve of your neck, the slight upturn of the corners of your lips. he took a deep breath as discreetly as possible, reminding himself that there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to convince you to stay with him, he shouldn’t get too attached just yet.

somehow, he held himself back from pulling you into his arms and kissing you breathless. he pulled his hand back after letting his thumb brush against your cheekbone for a moment.

“i’ll let you rest now,” he whispered, “sleep well. i’ll see you in the morning, love.”

you muttered a soft ‘goodnight, hwa’ in return before he was out of the room and shutting the door a second later.

the door clicked shut and you heard his footsteps getting more and more distant. you let out another quiet yawn, pulling the comfortable blanket over your body and up to your chin. your room was quiet, the silence oddly comforting. something about the place had that feel and despite being so far underground, it didn’t feel claustrophobic at all. you compared it to home, your parents always bickering with each other or taking out their frustrations on you. it felt nice to be in a quiet space again, and you briefly wondered if you could stay a little longer than another day.

your eyelids became heavier with each blink in the dark before they ultimately closed completely, pulling you into a deep sleep.

though you didn’t expect it to last so long, over a week passed and you were still staying with him in his little cave house. you didn’t mind, of course, since he took such great care of you. in the week, you’d grown closer, treating each other like lovers though neither of you brought it up. he’d let you sit in his lap and you’d let him brush his fingers through your hair.

you stirred awake, one day short of having spent two weeks with him. today was one of those days where he’d gone out to run some errands, trusting you enough to leave you alone. with not much to do, you usually sat in his little library or took a nap until the evening. this time you chose the latter.

some hair clung to the thin layer of sweat on your forehead, your blanket displaced and only covering half of your left leg, having kicked it off in your sleep. for a second you couldn’t remember where you were, but memories of the previous days returned quickly and you relaxed before sitting up and looking around the room. the candle had stayed on overnight, providing light in a place where windows really couldn’t exist.

there was no indication of the time other than a clock on one of the bedside tables. assuming it was functional and accurate, it was 10:24 in the evening. you hummed, surprised you’d slept so much when usually you’d be awake hours before that. with a quiet groan, you realised there was no point in going back to bed, pulling yourself off the mattress and to the door.

you reached for the door handle but paused, pulling back to check yourself in the mirror. not wanting to look like a mess in front of seonghwa, you readjusted your dress so it sat on your body properly and tried your best to make your hair appear less messy. only then did you tiptoe your way out of your bedroom and to the sitting room.

he was back already, sat on the couch and readings a book, back straight and one leg crossed elegantly over the other. he wore something different. instead of the loose white shirt, black slacks and black corset, he now wore a black vest that had sheer black sleeves with black slacks. the neckline of his vest dipped low, revealing the lean muscles of his chest. you forced yourself to look away, settling into the armchair across from him, separated by a long coffee table.

“i don’t bite, you know,” he spoke without looking up from his book, sounding amused that you sat so far away after how close you’d been the night before.

your daze cracked, chuckling as you stood and walking around the coffee table to sit beside him on his right. though you weren’t touching, a few centimetres of space between you, you could feel his body heat radiating off him. he glanced down at your exposed thighs briefly before continuing to read, or at least trying to. his eyes were stuck on the same line for a minute, distracted by the way you leaned your head on his shoulder to read with him.

he contemplated pulling you onto his lap, missing the feel of your weight against him like the night before. you had insisted for him to carry you to bed, pouty and tired, and when he did, he had a hard time letting go of you and ended up sitting with his back against the headboard with you snuggled safely on his lap until you fell asleep.

knowing you wouldn’t mind, he moved his right arm around your waist, slipping his hand down to your hip to make pulling you onto his lap easier. once you were there, straddling him so prettily, he let you rest the side of your head on his shoulder, your nose brushing against his neck as he tried his best to maintain his focus on his book. to the world he was a merciless king, but with you in his lap he was tender and caring.

you shifted your head, trying to look down at the book he was reading. your breath tickled him as you spoke. “what’re you reading?”

“oh,” he turned the book over for you to see the title. he let you read over, revelling in the feeling of your nose and lips accidentally grazing his neck. it tested every inch if his patience. feeling your heart beat against his chest and wanting so desperately to crawl into your ribcage, cradling your heart in his hands and peppering the beating muscle with kisses. he cleared his throat. “it’s a collection of poetry and letters.”

“you like poetry?” you giggled quietly and he swore he could taste the sweetness of it.

“i do,” he nodded, the tips of his ears dusted a rosy pink, “would you like me to read some to you?”

the offer made you feel giddy for some reason, glancing up at him with a grin as you nodded. you could only imagine how poetry would sound spoken by his divine voice.

seonghwa snickered at your excitement, flipping through the pages of his book to find something worthy of your ears. he stopped at a page near the end, his hand dropping back to your hip as he began reading. he traced a finger over your hipbone as he did, the light pressure making you squirm lightly in his lap.

“i have never surrendered myself entirely to anyone but you, and only recently. and to let my heart speak, when i am pressed against you, is an emotion and a peace that overflows all imagination.”

by the time he finished reading it, you were holding your breath, heart hammering against your ribs so hard you had no doubt he’d be able to feel it. the way he said it sounded less like a recitation and more like a confession, your stomach buzzing with anticipation as you sat up to look at him face to face, eye to eye, your hands resting on his chest.

your touch drove him to insanity. the soft press of your fingers against his vest, making it that much harder to hold himself back. he wanted to hold you against him forever. to inhale your scent so that his lungs would depend on you and only you. to touch you, to kiss you, to knit your flesh to his so you’d never leave him, to devour you, consume you. he wanted to do it all.

he could only whisper, “may i?”

his words echoed what he said before tending to your ankle two weeks prior, the day you first met him. that felt so long ago, a nostalgic smile tugging at your lips as you nodded.

his hand squeezed you hip gently while the other moved to cup your jaw, wasting no time in pulling your face to his. it was a slow, reverent kiss that filled every inch of your senses with warmth. your lips felt softer than he imagined. when your lips finally touched, your fingers curled into his vest, sighing against his lips softly.

he shuddered at the sound, pulling your hips tighter against him and pressing his lips against yours a little harder, your body perfectly molded to his as if that’s where you belonged. his tongue ran along your bottom lip, not pushing into your mouth, just tasting you enough to satiate his growing hunger. despite the way your hips rolled against him, guided by his hand and eliciting subtle gasps against his lips, he couldn’t help but still find you so sweet, so innocent, as you let him kiss you breathless.

in a way, you reminded him of a little lamb, hunted by a wolf. one could say you had tamed him. he could easily tear out your throat, add you to his collection of souls, yet he decided to kiss you instead. kiss you so softly your cheeks warmed.

the next time your eyes fluttered open, you somehow found yourself in your room, still on his lap as he sat on the edge. his kisses slowed, being replaced with repeated pecks before he pulled away fully to rest his forehead against yours, panting.

he sighed your name and for a second you felt the world stop, the sound making your head spin. “darling, please, let me taste you.”

your breath hitched at his whispered request, suddenly aware of your panties sticking to your wet core. wordlessly, you nodded and he manoeuvred you to lay on your back, making sure your head rested on your pillow comfortably.

he kissed your forehead, then your lips. from there he kissed his way further down over your nightgown—your jaw, neck, shoulder, collarbone, the valley of your breast, your stomach, hipbones, the top of your pelvis—all the while murmuring praises of how beautiful you were. his hands rested on your waist and moved down to your thighs, spreading them apart without resistance as he kneeled between them.

with a final look at your curious face, looking down and following his every action with your eyes, he dragged the end of your skirt up, revealing more and more of your smooth thighs and baby blue cotton panties. he thought they were cute as he let the dress bunch up at your waist, leaning down to kiss the little satin bow of your undergarments before hooking his finger through them.

he began dragging them down but stopped abruptly when you place a hand over his own, worried eyes darting to look at you. all you had to do was say the word and he’d stop.

“no one has ever… you know,” you blushed, too shy to say no one had ever eaten you out, only giving your lower half a meaningful glance.

relieved, he chuckled lowly and kissed the hand atop his. “you know i’ll be careful, darling. just relax, okay?”

once you relaxed as he told you to, he slipped his fingers between yours, using his other hand to slip your underwear down and off you, tossing them in a random direction before finally taking a look at the parts of you he craved the most. he nearly moaned at the sight of your folds, glistening in the dim light as your engorged clit begged for his attention.

leaning down to kiss your inner thighs first, his tongue slid between your folds, licking an experimental stripe from your hole to your clit, drawing a soft whine from you. he himself groaned at the taste, the sweet nectar that seeped from your body.

“fuck, you taste so good.”

your thighs quivered around his head as he pushed his face deep into your heat, lapping up your juices and sucking at your nub with the desperation of a starved man. each prod of his tongue had your breath shaking, whimpering, as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. before, you figured it would feel good, but not quite this delicious.

when you came, you came with a faint cry of his name, body arching of the bed. your hand that didn’t hold his moved to his hair at some point during his meal, tugging softly as your juices gushed out and you twitched from overstimulation, his tongue unrelenting and determined to swallow every last drop of your release.

he pulled away as you tugged at his hair, moving his torso up your body to kiss you. it was less a kiss and more feverish presses against each other, his tongue wandering between your teeth and making you taste yourself. you couldn’t taste much, but to his sensitive taste buds you were the sweetest thing he’d ever had.

his hips pressed against yours and your breath hitched, feeling the weight of his erection straining against his pants and nudging your aching clit. he pulled back from your lips, searching your eyes for any sign that you wanted to stop. but you only nodded encouragingly and he grinned, his lips moving to your neck as he helped you sit up so he could pull your dress off you and finally see everything he’d been fantasising about.

he detached his lips from your pulse point to pull it the rest of the way and toss it in a random direction, his eyes trained on your breasts. they were just as pretty as he imagined, nudging you to lay down again so he could take one erect nipple into his mouth and suck and lick and kiss it and around it.

“you look so pretty right now, love,” he muttered against your skin as he kissed his way to your other breast, his hands working on releasing himself from his pants while yours unbuttoned his vest, hands shaking with want.

you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against your pillow, your fingers gripping onto his bare shoulders as he dragged his tip through your folds, gathering your wetness. he kissed your cheek.

“tell me if anything hurts, okay?”

only once you breathed an ‘okay’ did he begin pushing in. he was blessed with a cock so big and perfect it hit every sensitive spot in your walls with precision as his length filled you slowly. his tip alone had you gasping softly, moaning incoherently as your eyes rolled back and fell shut, the stretch somehow pleasing you.

when he bottomed out, his eyes were drawn to the way he could see himself pressing through the bottom of your stomach, groaning as he passed his hand over the area and felt the bump. he stilled inside you, not moving until you told him so.

“p-please move, hwa.”

his pace throughout was relaxed, slow but not painfully slow, just enough roughness to his grinds to leave you breathless without tipping you over the edge just yet. it was when his hand slipped under your waist and angled you differently that you began feeling the familiar knot tighten in your abdomen.

he had a hard time stopping himself from releasing the moment he entered you, your walls hugging him so perfectly he choked back a moan with each stroke. everything about you felt as if you’d been made for him to worship, for him to indulge in. before you had come along, there was that occasional craving of romance, of wanting someone. he longed for someone to hold his hand, whose eyes replied to his so lovingly.

and there you were, beneath him, squeezing one of his hands while your dilated pupils showed him just how much you wanted him too.

you bit down on your bottom lip to hold back your sounds, something that made him chuckle and kiss the bridge of your nose. “don’t be shy, i want to hear you.”

his quiet praises made your face warm, letting out the softest of moans as his words shot straight to your core.

“you take me so well, love.” “you’re so precious and all mine.” “keep your eyes on me, darling.”

at some point his deep slow strokes grew needy and faster, pounding against your g-spot repeatedly as moans and whimpers of the two of you filled the room, hot breaths mingling with each other. your next orgasm crashed down on you with little warning, your walls squeezing around him as he muffled your sounds with his lips.

he came soon after that, filling you with his release after you had told him it was okay. his face dropped into the crook of your neck, cock twitching until his body slumped against yours.

after cleaning you up with a damp towel and slipping a new pair of panties over your legs, he joined you in bed once more and wrapped his arms around you. your legs tangled together and your chest pressed against his, your head tucked under his chin as you drifted back to sleep, lazy kisses placed onto the crown of your head.

he sighed softly and shut his eyes, filled with thoughts. now that he’s had you, he could hardly see himself letting go of you. but why would he? you were all he wanted and more.

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

[hueseok]

GOOD GRACES ( index. )

kim seokjin doesn’t believe in luck. he’s someone who knows that in order to have good things coming your way, you have to work damn hard for it. however, that might not be the case when it comes to bad luck, because after a video of him goes viral wherein it looks like he’s screaming at someone’s grandma, he begins thinking maybe luck does exist—and it just so happens that he’s now being subjected to a lot of unluckiness.

he’s being cancelled. his career is getting destroyed. his manager is forcing him to take a hiatus. and on top of that, as if things could not get worse, the only hope he has on redeeming everything he worked hard on depends on you, the director’s daughter of the theater show that could propel him back to where he used to be.

that should have been a piece of cake. if only you weren’t his ex who he dumped via phone call and got threatened by to never show his face to ever again...

pairing: seokjin x reader

rating: NC-17

content: fluff, light angst, humor, exes to enemies to friends to lovers au | ft. theater actor!seokjin + himbo energy!seokjin lmao, podcaster!reader + nepo baby!reader

gen. warning/s: lots of swearing | mature themes | might contain implicit sexual content in future chapters!

THE PARTS: ( 01 / 10. )

✧ EPISODE 01. there are worse things i could do !

✧ EPISODE 02

✧ EPISODE 03

✧ EPISODE 04

✧ EPISODE 05

✧ EPISODE 06

✧ EPISODE 07

✧ EPISODE 08

✧ EPISODE 09

✧ EPISODE 10

MINI PLAYLIST: ♫ i really like you — carly rae jepsen ♫ good graces — sabrina carpenter ♫ don’t go breaking my heart — elton john, kiki dee

TAGLIST STATUS: open! send an ask or reply to this post ♡

note. this drabble series is product of this idea. i love only murders in the building and i think that was mostly the inspiration in coming up with this fic! updates will be sporadic (if you’re familiar with me, you might have already expected this lmao), so no schedules whatsoever hehe,, i will however try to update as often and as quick as i can ♡

[allthingsfangirl101]

All I Want – Glen Powell

I hid behind my camera as the actors went through their scenes. I couldn't ignore the smile that spread across my face as Glen's character ran into the airport.

"Rick?"

I made sure to angle the camera behind Glen, right over his shoulder so we got a clear shot up of Lucy Liu and Taye Diggs.

"Hey," Taye hesitated. "Did I forget something?"

"Yeah," Glen responded, sounding like he was out of breath from running. "That you're a bastard." Glen paused as the extras in the airport mumbled things under their breaths. "I don't wanna be like you. I'm not gonna be. I don't want the promotion. I quit."

"Okay," Taye said with little to no emotion.

"Kirsten? Don't marry him."

I bit my lip to keep from laughing as the extra walked up next to Glen and laughed, "Do it, honey. Go with the young guy."

"Oh, no," Glen started to stutter. "No, no. I mean, she's a very handsome woman. Just -- Not what's going on here."

"Charlie," Taye said, still with barely any emotion. "You're fired as fuck."

"I literally just quit," Glen shrugged. "Kirsten, I know you don't know me, but I know you, because all Harper does is talk about you. And even when she's complaining about you, she's really complimenting you. I know how hard you work and what a badass you are, and I know you don't put up with any shit. So, don't put up with his. I don't know what you think you're getting out of this, but you deserve better. You are better."

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing as he lifted his hands and laughed. "Gave myself goosebumps."

"He's crazy," Taye recited. "You realize that? Hmm?"

Lucy paused before slowly turning toward Taye. She thought about it before asking, "What's my favorite food?"

"Your favorite -- It's steak tartare."

"It's green curry, you douche-tard!" Glen yelled up at them. "She likes it medium-spicy from Thai Leaf on Broadway."

"What's my favorite place?" Lucy asked.

"Kiki, I ca - -" he stuttered. He cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. "This is ridiculous. Why are we --? Kirsten. Your name is Kirsten."

"Squam Lake, New Hampshire, you douche-tard." I smiled when Glen did an excited fist bump. "Charlie, I know you're no longer his assistant, but could you please strike "wedding" from his calendar?"

"Absolutely," Glen said proudly.

"Are you being serious?" Taye asked as she dropped her plane ticket and walked away. "No. Kiki's short for Kirsten," he said as he followed her."

I moved the camera to catch Glen's facial expression. He's supposed to stop and think about how he left things with Zoey's character, Harper. As he looked down, Claire yelled, "Cut! Perfect guys. Let's check the lights, switch the camera positions, and go again."

I turned off the camera, took it off my shoulder, and stretched my back. I handed the camera to my assistant and continued stretching out my shoulders.

"You almost made me break."

I looked over my shoulder to see Glen walking over to me with a playful glare on his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I shrugged.

"Your little giggles," he said, pointing at me.

"I never giggled," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "I held it in."

"True," he nodded, "but your little smirks and smiles made it incredibly hard to remain serious."

"Well, then that means you need to do better at your job," I smirked. Glen laughed as I walked away. I forced my heart rate to slow back down as he jogged to catch up to me.

"We still on for lunch?" Glen asked as he started walking in sync with me.

"Of course," I shrugged, trying to get the butterflies in my stomach to calm down.

His simple question shouldn't have such a big impact on me. Especially considering the fact that we've been going to lunch almost every day during filming. We started about a month in. I was walking on set with the lunch I just bought when Glen bumped into me, spilling my lunch all over my shirt.

Glen freaked out and immediately took me to the costume trailer. He influenced the ladies to get me a shirt and then offered to buy me a new lunch. We spent the entire lunch break, eating in a small café down the street from the set and talking about anything we could think of.

The next day, I was swapping the batteries in my camera at the start of lunch when Glen walked up to me. I turned around to see him smiling and offering me a sandwich from the same café. Without thinking about it or meaning to, we ended up eating lunch together every day.

Throughout lunch, we talked about the movie's ending. I already have another job lined up, and Glen has a few 'feelers' out.

"I can't believe it's been four months," Glen chuckled as he finished his chips.

"I know," I smiled softly. "It's gone by so fast."

"Are you still working for Netflix?" He asked.

"Yeah," I nodded. "They've got my next project lined up. Some teenage angst romance movie."

Glen laughed when I made a face. "It won't be that bad," he tried to shrug. "I mean, you've spent months filming me flirt with Joan and Zoey."

"That's different," I sighed. "Filming teens just feels. . . wrong."

Glen smiled while reaching over and grabbing my hand. "Keep in mind, they're usually adults playing teenagers. And if any of them give you a problem, just call me."

My heart sank. I've grown accustomed to seeing him, teasing him, eating with him every day. The idea of not seeing him every day killed me.

Little did I know that Glen felt the same.

* * * * *

We had three scenes left. We filmed the big ending first. On the last day of filming, we were focusing on the scenes leading up to the end. My heart was in my throat the entire time I filmed their final scene.

I followed behind Zoey, waiting for her to notice Glen waiting outside the office.

"If I spend too much time on Gilda in the beginning, people will know that she's gonna die. Let her death be a twist. Hold off until after Harry wins his first med. . ."

Zoey stopped midsentence when she noticed Glen outside. Glen turned around and instantly had the perfect expression on his face. Zoey stopped recording herself and opened the door. One of the camera assistants snuck behind her and held the door open for me as I followed her outside.

He came off slightly nervous as she walked up to him and stood across from him. My camera was directly behind Zoey, and all its focus was on Glen. All of my focus was on Glen.

"Hi," Zoey recited.

"Hi," Glen responded.

Zoey looked to the side before turning back to Glen and asking him, "So, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, Kirsten told me to meet her. What are you doing here?"

"Oh my.  . ." Zoey laughed as they acted to figure it out.

"She Cyrano'd us," Glen caught on.

"Yes, she. . ."

"I Googled it," Glen said. "So, I know what it means now."

Zoey sighed as she put the box she was holding and her bags down before turning back to Glen. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"I don't work here anymore. I quit working for Rick. Starting over. At 28. Actually, I'm a temp, which is technically lower on the totem pole than an assistant, which is kind of a kick in the nuts. But it's, um, kind of cool. I get to see a bunch of different jobs. Find out what I actually like." Glen paused before adding the monologue I knew would make girls 15-35 swoon over him. "I like you. So, so much. You're not hard to get at all. You're hard to earn. It's so much better."

"You displayed a total lack of character when it mattered."

"I know."

"Charlie," Zoey continued, "you have the romantic and sexual personality of a seventh-grader."

"Seventh?" Glen asked, immediately lifting the mood. "I feel like it'd be at least high school."

"You wear suits to sports games."

"What?" Glen paused, acting like he was confused but slowly caught on. "You're a know-it-all."

"You are unbelievably bad at beer pong."

"You're a sore winner. And you use too many exclamation points."

As they continued to banter, I could feel myself falling harder and harder for this man. And it wasn't because of his character. It was because he was just like this in real life. I should know. We banter all the time.

But our banter doesn't end the way theirs does.

"And yet. . ." Zoey didn't finish.

Glen grabbed her hand and slightly pulled her toward him. He leaned down and kissed her. I watched, my heart breaking as Zoey wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back. The assistant gently tapped my elbow, reminding me that I was supposed to lift the camera above them, tilting it up to see New York.

"And cut!" Claire yelled. I looked over to see Glen and Zoey pull apart. Glen looked at me, but I quickly looked away.

I handed the camera to my assistant and grabbed a water bottle at the snack table. I let out a shaky breath as I opened the bottle and drank.

"So," Glen elongated as he walked up to me, "on a scale of 1 to bleehh, how cringy was I in that scene?"

"You were great," I said without turning around. "You're always great."

"Are you okay?" He grabbed my elbow and turned me toward him.

"I'm fine," I shrugged.

"Are you sure?" He asked, looking at me in a way that made me melt.

I could tell him that I wasn't fine. I could tell him that I didn't want the movie to end. I could tell him that I was terrified that we'd never see each other again. I could tell him that the thought of not working together made me want the ground to open up and swallow me up.

"Of course," I said, my voice dropping. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," he stuttered. "I just feel like the last couple of days, you've been. . . off."

"Off?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "I just meant that you've been in your head more than usual."

"I'm fine," I answered quickly. "I always get a little 'in my head' when I'm wrapping up a movie. It's hard to say goodbye to everyone. It's the worst part of working on movies. You get incredibly close to someone and then you never see them again."

We suddenly fell into silence as we stared at each other. I should tell him how much I'm going to miss him. It was on the tip of my tongue, but something stopped me. I'm not sure why I couldn't spit it out.

Glen opened his mouth to say something, but he was called to set. He sent me an apologetic look, and quickly kissed my cheek, before walking away. As he walked away, an answer to my earlier question popped into my head.

I couldn't tell him how much I was going to miss him because of one simple fact; I'm just a camera woman and he's a famous actor.

* * * * *

After filming the last scene, we still had a few scenes to film. Throughout filming, I noticed Glen acting weird. It felt like he was avoiding me. I went over and over our last interaction, trying to figure out if I said something that made him uncomfortable.

I stood behind the bar, my camera focused on Zoey. She typed for a little before stopping and slowly smiling.

"I finished," she mumbled. "I finished. The whole article. I finished it! From beginning to end."

I smiled softly as she grabbed chips, stood up, and spun around. She stopped when the waiter walked over with two plates of food.

"I finished it. I finished the whole thing," she repeated. "You, sir, are a hero and scholar, and are about to receive the greatest tip in the history of the service industry."

She turned around and started shuffling through her bag. "Okay. Technically, I don't have my wallet on me. Tomorrow. . ."

"Leave this place and never return," the waiter cut her off.

As the waiter walked away, Zoey smiled. She put her hands to her head and whispered, "I did it."

"And that's a cut for Zoey!" Claire yelled. "Let's switch sets and film Glen's last scene. Y/N, you ready?"

I looked over at her and saw Glen over her shoulder. "Of course," I said, trying to sound normal.

"The battery good?" She asked.

"All good."

"Great!" She said, clapping her hands together. "Let's wrap this up."

I made eye contact with Glen again but quickly looked away. I hated this. I hated this feeling in my stomach. I hated this awkward, confusing tension between us.

After lunch, the set was now ready for one of Glen's last scenes. We had to reschedule due to some issues with Pete's comedy schedule. When I walked onto set, Glen was already in position. We made eye contact again and I instantly broke it.

"Alright," Claire said, "Glen's in position. Y/N's in position."

My face burned when Glen looked at me and smiled. I looked away and focused on the camera.

"Action!"

I filmed him scrolling on his computer for a few seconds before Taye knocked on the door. Glen stood up and I followed him down the makeshift hallway. I stepped behind him as he answered the door.

"Cut!"

I looked over at Claire confused. "Stanley," she sighed to the other camera operator who was behind Taye, his camera focused on Glen. "Your angle is wrong. Can we switch the two of you?"

"Switch?" I stuttered.

"Yeah," Claire shrugged. "You do better with angles. Plus, you and Glen are closer in height so it's not as slanted."

"Oh," I said, clearing my throat. "Sure."

I took my camera off my shoulder and blushed when Glen moved aside. Stanley and I switched positions. I was now behind Taye and focused on Glen.

"Perfect," Claire smiled. "And action."

"Hey," Taye said, slightly awkwardly.

"What do you want?" Glen asked harshly.

"You live here? It's disgusting." Taye scowled. Glen scoffed as he started to close the door. Taye quickly stopped him. "Hold up. Hold up, hold up. I'm sorry. I just. . . I, uhh. . . I need some information on, um, my wife. My ex-wife."

"Like what?"

"Uhh. . ." Taye hesitated as he opened a small notepad and looked through it. "I got some written down here. Uh, assorted favorites, as in, uh, favorite foods, flowers, clothing. . ."

"Are you serious?" Glen scoffed.

"Look," Taye sighed, "I realize I should know this. But you used to do all this stuff for me. I want her back."

Glen hesitated, slowly sighing. "I have an old Kiki file. I'll send it over to you."

Taye let out the breath he was holding. He did a small fist pump as he recited, "Thank you. Thank you."

"Yeah," Glen sighed.

"Thank you," Taye said again. "I really appreciate this."

I stepped aside as Pete walked up.

"Rick," he said loudly, making Taye jump. Pete turned to Glen and asked, "You still work for this guy?"

"Nope," Glen chuckled.

I held my breath as Pete threw his cup of iced coffee on Taye. He walked by him, stopping in the doorway as he said, "It's soy. Nice seeing you, Rick."

Pete did a small salute before leaving. Glen started to follow him.

"Bye, Rick," he said as he slammed the door.

"Perfect! Much better. Thank you, Y/N."

I nodded as I took my camera off my shoulder. My assistant took the camera and noticed my shirt.

"Do you want me to. . ."

"I'm fine, Wes." I cut him off. I looked up to see Glen walking out of the apartment.

"Did Pete get you?" Glen asked, instantly scanning my shirt. "I told him to be careful."

"I'm fine," I brushed off. I wrapped my arms around myself and looked away.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen," Claire smiled, "that is a wrap on Set It Up!"

Everyone started to applaud. Without looking at Glen, I turned and started walking off set.

"Y/N!" Kelley, the makeup girl, ran to catch up to me. "You coming to the bar tonight? Apparently, Claire rented it out for the wrap-up party."

Just then, Glen walked by. Of course.

"Oh," I said slowly. "I. . . I don't know. I'm kinda tired."

"Come on, Y/N," she whined. She turned around and smirked. "Oh, Glen!"

"Kelley," I said through my teeth. "Don't. . ."

"What's up?" Glen asked as he walked over to us.

"Y/N's trying to wimp out on us," she said, her whole voice dripping with tattle-tale venom.

"I am not," I said quickly.

"Yes, she is," she corrected. "Anyway, I can't get her to come. But maybe you can. Convince her."

"Kelley," I said through my teeth.

"You're really not coming?" He asked me. He looked over at me, the look of hope in his eyes causing my heart to do several flips.

"I'm not sure," I stuttered.

"Well," he smiled, "I hope you do."

I couldn't help but hold my breath as I waited for him to leave. Once he did, Kelley elbowed me in the ribs.

"Ow!" I gasped.

"Okay," she said, turning toward me and crossing her arms over her chest. "What's with you? You two are usually constantly bantering and teasing each other. This last week, you've been weird. Spill."

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I wish I knew."

* * * * *

After spending hours putting together different outfits, I finally walked into the bar.

"Damn, girl!" Kelley giggled when she saw me. I blushed as she ran over to me and made me spin around. "You. Look. Gorgeous!"

"Thanks," I said pushing her away. Something over my shoulder caught her eye.

"And I'm not the only one who noticed," she said in a sing-songy voice. I looked over my shoulder to see Glen across the room, smiling at me. I sent him a smile before turning away. I grabbed Kelley's hand and led her to the bar.

"If I'm going to get through this," I said under my breath, "I'm gonna need a stiff drink. Very stiff."

About an hour later and after a few drinks, Kelley and I were leaning against the bar.

"I just don't get it," she sighed.

"Get what?"

"You and Glen."

"There's nothing to get," I scoffed. "I'm just me. A nobody who spends her life filming other people instead of doing anything with her life."

"So?" Kelley shrugged.

"So," I elongated. "He's Glen Powell, Hollywood's Heartthrob. Why would he want to be with me? I'm not anyone special."

"Maybe to him," she said slowly, "you're more than just a nobody. Maybe to him, you are special."

"Yeah, right."

"Come on, Y/N," Kelley sighed. "You have been crazy about him since we started filming. Why don't you think he might be crazy about you too?"

"Do I need to spell it out?" I asked bitterly. "I'm a nobody. Glen could do a whole lot better. But, who cares? The movie is over. He'll get another job and so will I. We won't see each other every day. He'll find another girl to make her fall head over heels in love with him while I suffer in my lonely silence."

"You might want to. . ." She said, pointing behind me.

"Glen," I gasped when I turned around and there he was. "What are you. . . How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough," he shrugged with his heart-stopping smile. Kelley gave me a not-so-subtle push toward Glen as she walked away. Her push made me bump into him, causing him to catch me.

"You okay?" He asked.

"I'm fine," I said, stepping back. "Look, about what I said. . ."

"It's okay."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "It's not. I know we. . ."

"I like you." I held my breath as Glen paused. "So, so much."

"You what? You sure you're not just reciting yours and Zoey's final scene."

"I'm not rehearsing anything. I want to be around you every second of every minute of every day," he said, taking a step closer to me. "I want to take you on dates and spend my money on you until I have no more money left to spend on you. I want to hold your hand, hold you, until I lose the ability to feel. I want to kiss you until my lips are numb. I want to be the first thing you think about every morning you wake up and the last thing you think about every night before you go to sleep. I want to love everything you have grown to hate about yourself. But mostly, I just want you, Y/N."

He pulled me into his chest, leaned down, and pressed his lips to mine. My heart felt like it was jumping into my throat as I slowly started to kiss him back. Our lips moved in sync as he pulled me closer. We broke apart when neither one of us could breathe.

"See?" He whispered. "All I want is you."

[fallinnflower]

01:01

mingyu x reader (fluff, hurt/comfort?, non-idol!au)

wc: 1.3k

a writing exercise i did with a friend using this prompt list and the prompts "when we first fell in love all of those years ago, your father would say i was too sweet for my own good. maybe he was right." and "i'm the one you've been looking for."

a/n: thanks everyone for being patient with me, i'm still working on some big projects (vampire!DPR Ian and also vampire!BamBam [same universe], vampire!Jun, part 2 of river god!Wonpil, a Wonwoo fic based loosely on Kiki's Delivery Service... send help) in the works but wanted to post a little something <3

As soon as you get into your apartment's living room, you flop onto the couch on your stomach, paying no mind to the makeup you're probably smudging onto the throw pillow. Now just isn't the time. Future you can worry about cleaning it. 

Familiar footsteps follow you into the living room and a knee gently nudges the side of your stomach; you roll so your back is pressed against the back of the couch and Mingyu can lie down in the remaining space. He settles on his side, facing you with his hand propping up his head. His eyes glimmer slightly, and he gives you a wry smile,

"Well, happy anniversary," he says. You groan and look away from him, pressing your face into the couch cushions. He chuckles at your exaggerated reaction and gently reaches over to start undoing the elaborate updo you'd pinned your hair into. 

"What a night," he continues, pulling the bobby pins out one by one. You still refuse to look up, embarrassed and frustrated. 

It wasn't like it was anyone's fault, really, that all your evening plans had gone to total shit. First was the unexpected downpour that ruined your plans of a nice walk before dinner forcing you to frantically hail a cab while huddled under his expensive suit jacket. You'd already felt apologetic over that, and then your distracted cab driver missed a turn, which you thought was bad enough because you would be late for the reservation at this rate. 

But then it had to get worse (because of course it had to get worse) when the cabbie rear-ended another car because they were too busy yelling at someone on the phone. The two of you had to spend another two hours huddled under a shop awning, answering questions for the police officers that came to assess the scene. Thankfully, nobody was seriously hurt, but you still cried so much that everyone kept asking if you needed them to call paramedics. 

That was part of why you didn't want to look at Mingyu. No doubt your face was a mess, not to mention your hair, which he was now methodically freeing from the style you had spent so long on. 

You'd just wanted it to be perfect. You only have one first wedding anniversary, after all. To avoid crying more, you keep your face pressed into the cushions, not responding to your husband. More gently, then, he asks,

"Hey, you're sure you're okay, right?" You sniffle. Goddamnit. 

"Yeah," you croak. "I just… feel bad." Mingyu chuckles. 

"I know, but it isn't your fault," he reassures you. It should make you feel better, but it doesn't. You know Mingyu isn't bothered — this sort of thing doesn't faze him quite like it does you — but you still feel anxious and upset. Is this some kind of warning of impending doom in your relationship? Just the thought makes you feel sick to your stomach. 

You finally turn your face again so you can breathe more easily and find Mingyu smiling at you, concern still clear in his eyes. The couch cushion feels rough against your cheek, still a bit sensitive from all the crying and being out in the cold. 

"I think we have ramen," Mingyu says. "Should I make some? Are you hungry?" Your lower lip trembles as tears start welling up again, and this time you press your forehead into Mingyu's shoulder to hide your face. 

"How are you so calm?" you sputter. "How are you not— not upset?" 

"What, upset at you? You didn't do anything. And the driver didn't get away with being reckless, so I don't need to worry about that, either," he says calmly. When you only continue to sniffle pathetically, he changes his approach a bit,

"Or maybe I'm just too nice. I still remember when we first fell in love all of those years ago, your father would say I was too sweet for my own good. Maybe he was right."

You let out an extremely undignified snort and lift your head to look at him. 

"As if. My dad never said anything like that," you tease. "Plus, 'all those years ago?' It's not like we met as kids or something. We met in college." Mingyu pouts at you, but his eyes glimmer playfully. 

"It sounds so much less romantic when you say that," he whines. 

"Well, you've always been the romantic one," you retort, but Mingyu is quick to counter you,

"No, no— I still remember that letter you wrote me when the semester was ending, when you said I was the one you'd been looking for—"

"Shut up!" you cry, placing your hands over his mouth. On top of everything else tonight, you don't want to be reminded of your embarrassing confession via love letter from years ago. You'd been a lovestruck student afraid you would lose your chance forever when you wrote that letter, and certainly hadn't expected that Mingyu had also been harboring a secret crush on you that would lead to marriage. It had been corny and sappy all because you thought you wouldn't see him again! Oh, how your actions had come back to haunt you. 

You can feel Mingyu smiling under your palms, and it only makes your face get hotter. Eventually, you remove your hands from his face and snuggle up closer to his chest, pressing your forehead into his shoulder again. 

"You're so annoying," you murmur, and you can feel the laughter reverberate through Mingyu's chest as he winds an arm around you. 

"But you still married me," he says. You smile. It still gives you butterflies, thinking of Mingyu as your husband, still so fresh a sensation. It's only been a year, after all. 

"Yeah," you reply. "I did."

Mingyu holds you for a few minutes, gently combing his fingers through your hair as you calm down. Eventually, he broaches the subject of dinner again, now that it's been hours since you were supposed to have eaten. 

"Do you want to shower while I make the ramen?" he asks, and you nod. Mingyu gets up off the couch as you sit up and stretch, noticing the lingering dampness in your hair and dress. A shower definitely sounds nice. You start making your way down the hallway, then turn back to face the living room. 

You watch as Mingyu attempts to straighten out his crumpled, damp button-down shirt, and smile to yourself. 

"Actually," you start, causing Mingyu to stop what he was doing and look up at you out of curiosity. "Do you… wanna join me? It's our anniversary, after all." You can feel your face warming up, but it's worth the slight embarrassment just to see the surprise on your husband's face. Sometimes he can seem so innocent. 

It only takes him a moment to snap out of it though, and cross the living room to meet you in the hallway with a broad grin. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you without hesitation.

"That sounds perfect," he says, practically purring, and you let out a surprised yelp when he suddenly scoops you up bridal style. You throw your arms around his neck and lean against him, giggling. As you look up into his face, all your irritation and upset from earlier melts away. Why should it matter if you went to a fancy restaurant or just ate ramen at home? All you want is to be together — that's why you got married. 

As Mingyu sets you down in the bathroom, you keep your arms looped around his neck and give him a kiss of your own. 

"Happy first anniversary, Gyu." He smiles that big, toothy grin you love so much, the one that makes him look like a happy puppy. 

"Happy anniversary, Y/N. The first of many."

It turns out to be a pretty good night, after all.

[kingofbodyrolls]

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

🐴Chapter summary: You win some and you lose some— isn’t that how the saying goes? But when you keep messing up, how long does it take for your sister to get enough of your fuck ups? 🐴Chapter title: Sometimes 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: some sexual tension and angst! A storm is brewing ⛈️ + a horse in pain (colic), also Jessi is a real pain in the ass in this chapter, sorry. 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 11.8k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why can't you do better?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She's fuming, but you don’t care. 

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

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

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

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

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

Damn it. 

This wasn't the outcome you anticipated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜 I’m not really feeling very well at the moment. I’m very depressed and I was even hospitalized last week because of trigger warning suicidal thoughts… anyway. I’m struggling, but I enjoy writing this, and I’m gonna see it to the end, even though I feel very disheartened by the notes (I really shouldn’t look, but I’m only human, lol. And I’m comparing it to my other works, not other’s because that can get dangerous real fast!). But anyway. Writing is therapeutic for me, but posting seems to be the hurdle for me now… so I’m thinking— only thinking, that this story might be the last one that I post. I don’t know yet. Just a thought. Anyway. I’m very happy to have some lovely friends here— thank you guys! You already know who you are 🫶✨

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[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Miscellaneous Monster Tales 4

This volume's MMTs is catching up on what happened last volume.

Giant Frogs

I'm so glad this one exists because it proves I was right about the frog skins. It's not the skin that's immune to tentacle stings, it's the mucous layer over the skin.

There could be a potential market for Chilchuck if he wants to go from toad oil salesman to frog slime salesman though. He'd need to harvest some of that slime to have it studied. Then he could sell a mass-produced oil similar to sunscreen. Maybe he could try selling full-body suits that adventurers can wear and coat the slime onto so they don't ruin their clothes and Chilchuck could offer a service where he coats the suits themselves.

Those frog gloves are probably unconfortable since they only have four digits while every human has five.

That 1,000 gold price Chilchuck was considering is actually really cheap based on the exchange rate I suggested in MMT1. It would end up being roughly $50 USD. It's less than the walking mushroom guidebook.

Tentacles

Additional information in this segment reinforces that these are meant to be monstrous anemones. They're filter feeders that eat airborne spirits. So then why did that one tentacle grab Kiki and Laios? Maybe they're opportunistic generalists.

It's not the tentacle's fault that architecture designed to be easily gripped by human fingers is also ideal for tentacles to grip.

I love when the joke is that no one finds the dirty joke funny.

Mermaids

Most of the comments I want to make about mermaids is tied to the fishmen section so I'll save that there.

The entire joke is a callback to the mandrake harvesting method back in chapter 4, including replacing the dog ghost with a Chilchuck ghost.

I don't imagine most dwarfs would be likely to encounter mermaids. Senshi's probably talking about the whole "Canary in a cola mine" thing.

Fishmen

Love how the fishman introduction is a parody of the mermaid introduction all the way to how the last line is "drag them into the ocean".

It feels like the author wants to make it clear that Laios was right and there's no moral dilemma with eating fishmen (aside from personal beliefs and feelings). It does point out fishmen and mermaids have some physical similarities, but they're entirely coincidental. Fishmen develop and mature the same way most fish would.

Mermaids and other demihumans probably share a mammalian ancestor with humans and they all coincidentally developed common body frames, but the biological relation would probably be roughly on the same level as a human compared to a kangaroo.

Mermaids would probably feel insulted if you told them they and fishmen are the same taxonomic species.

Also, hard confirm: Mermaids have fingernails.

Undines

Mostly just talk about mana and spirits. Chapter 20 already mentioned that Undines are water spirits. I'm curious what other elemental spirits look like.

Is this panel saying there is mana in the panel and word bubble borders?

More confusion about the "human" definition. So is human a catch-all term for all the standard D&D races? And did the orc chieftain say "elves and humans" because he wanted to single out elves especially?

And it turns out Namari was suffering the equivalent of water intoxication after going through that teleporter.

Wargs

We've never interacted with a warg. This is the first time we've actually been shown a proper warg. The burned corpses from chapter 23 had all their fur burned off.

There were three corpses in chapter 23 and two skeletons in the dragon's fuel sac, so there were at least five wargs in the pack in the orc village.

Laios said one of the only differences between him and orcs is the number of fingers and toes.

I had to look through so many panels to confirm this statement. Orcs and humans have the same number of fingers per hand, but orcs have four toes per foot.

It really shows what Laios pays attention to if he doesn't notice all the obvious differences between himself and an orc like body hair, teeth, jawline, etc. but he is aware that orcs have fewer toes.

Red Dragons

Have I mentioned that I like how the story will delve into the real-world logistics that would have to go into being an adventurer? This story isn't using video game logic. You don't kill a monster and then have dragon fangs and dragon claws in your infinite inventory.

Since dragons are so large, it would actually take a large team to transport the body after slaying it. So the gross profit of dragon slaying is high, but the net gain is actually not much compared to the overall work needed.

Maybe that skin Senshi was using as a cooking sheet might net the party a nice profit... if Senshi lets them have it.

When Laios compared the amount of information on dragons to the amount on walking mushrooms, I think he was implying that studying walking mushrooms is the actual pinnacle of monster research. Recall that Laios owns a book dedicated specifically to walking mushrooms.

Marcille and Chilchuck are always shocked at Laios's obsession with monsters, but Laios implies his antics are nothing compared to what dragon fans are like.

back

[cheesy09]

[CN] Kiro's Absolute Match Mind's Quest (Part 1)

🌸 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date that hasn't been released on the EN server yet! 🌸

Note: This date explores some very suggestive themes, so if you do not meet the game's required 16+ age rating, I'd suggest to avoid reading this date.

[CHAPTER 1]

MC: There isn't much time left to prepare for the this issue of "Youth Cheerleaders". Willow, tomorrow, please hurry up and follow up on the progress of the costumes and venue layout.

Willow: Don't worry, boss. According to the current schedule, we'll definitely be able to make it in time!

MC: That's great... does anyone else have anything to report?

Anna: I have one here.

Anna: Next month, Loveland City's Culture and Sports Bureau is planning on hosting a celebrity charity baseball game. The other party's taken a fancy to our company's publicity abilities and planned to talk to us.

Anna: However, their guests have not yet been completely finalized. Among those currently confirmed to be participating is this year's MLB super rookie Carol.

MC: Carol...

I vaguely felt that I had heard this name just recently, but with how hectic my work has been, my thoughts were all over the place.

Kiki: Carol... Isn't he that he that star player that Xiao Zheng's supposed to be interviewing today?

MC: Oh, yes! I almost forgot, Carol happened to be in Loveland City these two days.

If it hadn't been for the tight workload for "Youth Cheerleaders", I would've been happy to conduct such an interview. But if there was going to be a baseball game next month, there would definitely be more opportunities for contact.

The remaining work got sorted out, one after another. After the meeting, I sent a text to Xiao Zheng and asked him about the situation of the interview there.

After a while, Xiao Zheng replied back.

Xiao Zheng: The interview went very well! And boss, guess who I ran into backstage?

A group photo popped up before my eyes.

Xiao Zheng's black hair, Carol's platinum-blonde hair, and was the blonde-haired person with a smile on their face Kiro?!

When did Kiro get there?

While I was pondering over it, a message popped up on the pinned chat and as soon as I opened it, a familiar bright voice rang out.

Kiro: MC, you've seen that group photo, right? Hehe, I plan to introduce you to a new friend today. Come here when you're done!

I looked at the address he sent, which was an indoor baseball stadium in Loveland City, and then contacted him for a photo...

I sent him a little rabbit-like emoji, picked up my bag and quickly walked out the door.

-

Perhaps it was because the stadium was reserved, but the baseball arena was empty, and I spotted the most dazzling figure at a glance.

He held a bat in both hands, his eyes fixed on the ball machine and did not notice my arrival.

Boom!

I could barely see how Kiro swung his bat, and the ejected baseball had already been hit firmly by him into the scoring area.

MC: That's amazing!

Kiro caught onto the compliment I blurted out and he immediately turned his head.

Kiro: MC? Why did you come here so fast?

The next second, he put down the bat and walked towards me.

I was about to throw myself into his arms, but he suddenly stopped and raised his hands.

Kiro: Wait a moment.

MC: Eh?

Kiro: ...Hmm... Okay, okay...

He relaxed slightly, then stretched out his hand to hug me back, placing a light kiss on the tip of my nose.

Kiro: I thought it would take at least half an hour for you to get here. I'd planned on showering right after my workout to welcome you refreshed.

MC: Pfft, are you still afraid that I'd dislike you for smelling like sweat?

Kiro hummed twice in acquiescence.

MC: Why would I dislike it? I want to smell you more!

My grin grew wider, so I just hugged him and nuzzled against him a few more times.

MC: By the way, where's the new friend you wanted to introduce to me?

Kiro: He went out to take a call. Didn't you meet him at the door?

MC: No, I didn't see anyone else the entire way... Is it Carol?

Kiro: Mm, that's him.

Kiro: He was a teammate of my high school baseball team. He rarely comes to Loveland City, so we got in touch.

MC: Wow! Your former school teammate is now in the MLB! Was he that good before?

Kiro: Just so-so. Not better than me, anyway.

Kiro wrinkled his nose, his expression so proud and arrogant that I couldn't help but kiss him as well.

MC: I know. You are the Ace of your school team!

??: No no no, he is not.

??: The Ace of our school team was Raymond. Now he works overtime everyday on Wall Street and he's even gone bald.

A voice with a foreign accent interrupted from the side. I looked back and saw a young man with platinum hair holding a bag of cornflakes, munching on them as he looked at us with interest.

It was Carol.

[CHAPTER 2]

We didn't know when this guy had reached next to us. We both quickly let go of our hands, and Kiro coughed twice in embarrassment.

Carol: Why don't you continue holding each other? Don't mind me, I'll just enjoy watching.

Kiro: .....

Kiro: Can you please stop sneaking up on people all the time?

Carol: Little did I know that just when I'd decided to go to the convenience store to buy some cornflakes, a beautiful woman would show up at the venue.

Carol patted his hands on his pants and stretched them towards me.

Carol: Hello, I'm Carol, an old classmate of Kiro's.

MC: Hello, I'm MC, Kiro's...

Carol: It's what you Chinese people call 'Airen', 'Na Kouzi', 'Duixiang' (lover, fiancée/wife, object of one's affection). I get it.

Carol spoke fluent Chinese and quickly took over my words, winking at me teasingly.

MC: .....

Kiro: .....

I glanced at Kiro. He understood what I was getting at and smiled helplessly at me.

Kiro: He's mother's Chinese, so he speaks Chinese fluently. As for your other doubt... well, he's been this arrogant ever since high school.

Carol: Wow, the two of you could actually communicate so much with just one look. I've only seen that kind of thing is spy movies!

Carol: Boohoo, Kiro, it seems that I'm no longer your soulmate!

Kiro: You've never been my soulmate, okay?

For the first time on Kiro's face, I saw the feelings of "lost", "tired" and "when will this conversation end?". There were so many expressions combined together on that handsome face that if he had a tail right now, it would've been wagging around impatiently.

MC: Pfft...

I suppressed my laughter and quietly poked Kiro with my hand, but he keenly grabbed my finger.

However, after such banter and teasing, the atmosphere between them had relaxed a lot.

Carol: By the way, Kiro, have you thought about what I said before?

Kiro: The charity baseball game?

Kiro: It's possible to make place in my schedule to participate, but I haven't played a game in a long time, and I'm afraid it'll take too long to practice.

Carol: What's there to practice? Just play the way you played at the Dodger Stadium in your sophomore year of high school.

Kiro: Dodger...

Kiro recalled the match and shook his head.

Kiro: Didn't I lose that game? I don't even remember what I was playing at the time.

Carol: How could you not remember?

Carol's eyes widened in surprise and he gestured excitedly.

Carol: I was on first base, you were the batter, and they'd already thrown two strikes. One more pitch and we'd be struck out. As a result, you hit a perfect outfield ball, allowing me to safely return to home base!

Carol: Yes, we lost that game in the end and were eliminated...

Carol: But your most critical point allowed us to go into overtime. That's why I still remember it to this day!

Carol's eyes were shining while narrating this to us, as if he had returned to that arena again.

Kiro probably hadn't been expecting a failed game to be so deeply remembered. His lips twitched and then curled upwards.

Kiro: Well, now that you've said it, I remember.

Kiro: But I'm not sure I can still hit such a perfect shot now.

Carol: Why don't you try then?

Carol put down his bag of snacks, picked up a bat from the side, and pointed at the scoreboard.

Carol: Let me re-experience the majesty of "California's Little Devil"?

Kiro: Sure.

Kiro nodded, but raised both of our hands to Carol.

Kiro: My girlfriend is also going to participate.

-

After going to the venue to rent a set of equipment, I stood in front of the ball machine. As a novice with no clue of the basics, I was worried about trying to do everything in front of two super baseball masters.

MC: Is it difficult to get started with this?

MC: I remember the last time I went to Hitachi High School to watch you play, I spent a long time looking up the rules for baseball, and ended up getting dizzy...

Kiro: No, those rules are only required on the playing field.

Kiro: For now, you just need to swing the bat and hit the ball to win. Easy, right?

Kiro: Don't worry, I've slowed down the speed of the ball server so you can get familiar with it first.

MC: So, what about the batting posture? What are the standards?

Kiro: No, that will happen later. Now, I just want you to join in and have fun. Being able to be happy is the basis for getting started with something, right?

Kiro winked at me, his words calming my emotions. I nodded at him, raised my bat and aimed at the server.

Boom--

Without giving me any time to react, the white ball slipped away from my stick.

MC: .....

Kiro: Hahaha, lower your arms a little, and there's no need for you to face the tee hole, 'cause the trajectory of the ball's a parabola.

MC: Okay!

Boom--

Kiro: Mastering the position in just one shot is awesome! You can swing the bat a little earlier for the next ball, and I guarantee you will hit it!

MC: Okay!

Boom.

Under Kiro's guidance I hit the ball on my third shot.

Although I didn't have much strength that the ball just landed softly on the grounds, and even the score didn't pop up on the scoreboard, it was enough to make me cheer.

MC: Kiro, look, look, look, I hit it!!

Kiro: I saw it. That's great. MC really is a little genius! Then, our next goal is to score a point!

MC: Gogogo!

With Kiro's unremitting praise, I seemed to really feel the joy of playing baseball.

Or it could be said that, not limiting to any sports, as long as he was participating in anything, I would always feel twice as happy.

-

I looked at the five points I finally got on the scoreboard with satisfaction and waved my hand towards Kiro.

MC: I want to practice by myself again. You can go and play too.

I lowered my voice and winked while suppressing my laughter.

Carol, who was peeking at us not far away, saw someone looking at him. He immediately straightened his neck, turned around and pretentiously swung the bag.

MC: ...I suspect that if you don't compete with Carol, he'll be so sore that his teeth will break.

Kiro also glanced at Carol and raised the corners of his mouth proudly.

Kiro: Who told us before that he enjoyed seeing us show affection? Well, of course we have to blind him more!

Having said that, Kiro still carried the bat and went to Carol's side.

The other party stopped looking at the fun and raised his eyebrows at him.

Carol: Are you willing to have a go?

Kiro: [In English] Uh-huh, as usual?

Carol: As usual.

The ball machine made a low buzzing sound, and the two men lined up on both sides, both raising their bats.

Boom!

A crisp and harsh sound rang in my ears.

Unlike the slow ball that the machine threw at me, Carol and Kiro's ball machines were set to the highest speed. When the bats were swung down, the ball hit the scoring area hard like a beam of light reflected back.

Second ball, third ball...

The two of them hit every shot and scored very hard.

I was no longer in the mood to complete my exercises, so I just held my breath and watched the game.

At the eleventh stroke, Kiro suddenly frowned and paused while twisting his waist.

MC: ....!

I suddenly remembered that Kiro had sprained his waist filming an MV last week. Had it relapsed?

Just that moment of stagnation caused the speed of his swing to be half a beat slower that Carol's. And that slight difference made his swing fail.

Kiro: .....

Kiro's movements stopped and Carol also put down his bat. He glanced at the data plate and shrugged.

Carol: Your swinging speed is 113km/h, and your outfield score is 14... You've regressed a bit, Kiro.

Kiro: No, you've gotten a lot stronger.

Carol: Oh, of course. After all, I went through hell in order to join MLB~

Carol stretched, walked over and patted Kiro on the shoulder.

Carol: But you can't say that.

Carol: I'm afraid that kid Raymond doesn't even remember how to swing a bat. If you can maintain this level, you definitely would be able to dominate the charity game in a month's time.

Kiro: Are you using Raymond to provoke me?

Carol: Not really, I'm just stating facts.

Carol: And because this is a fact, I decided to balance the combat power - when the time comes, I'll be your opponent. Otherwise a one-sided game would be too boring.

After Carol finished speaking, he waved at me and walked out the door.

Carol: Bye, Kiro, and Kiro's girlfriend! See you in a month!

After Carol left, I walked over to Kiro and pulled his wrist.

MC: You seemed uncomfortable when you swung the bat just now... Kiro, are you okay?

Kiro: I want...

MC: What?

His voice was so low that I was unable to hear him clearly.

Kiro turned his face, his cheeks puffed up angrily, and his blue eyes burning with fighting spirit.

Kiro: I said... I also want special training from hell!

[CHAPTER 3]

Apple Box: Woo...

Cello: Meow...

The air conditioner pumped out air-conditioning at full power, but the lazy scent of a summer afternoon still covered our entire home. Even Apple Box and Cello, who would usually be playing together, each occupied a cushion and fell asleep.

The only energetic one was Kiro, who was standing in front of the big screen.

Kiro: 33, 34, 35...

After competing with Carol that day, Kiro kept his word and immediately formulated a set of "Kiro-style hell training" for himself.

He couldn't frequent the baseball stadium, so he simply compiled a baseball physical program that he could practice at home, from swinging to catching.

MC: ...69, 70! Stop, it's time to rest!

As soon as the number jumped, I immediately raised my hand and asked Kiro to stop. Kiro calmed his breathing and turned to pitifully look at me.

Kiro: Can I do another set of exercises?

MC: You can't.

I pretended to be serious and decisively refused.

MC: Who applied for two extra sets of training yesterday? Then at night, he was complaining that his back was sore and asked me to help with a massage and the application of medicine?

Kiro: Yesterday, it was because I overestimated myself, so I'll only do one more set today...

MC: N - O. NO.

Kiro: [cute disappointed whine] .....

Kiro drooped his eyebrows and finally turned off the training program on the screen, and sat down next to me.

I knew why he was struggling with the amount of training, but I didn't want to interfere. I just recommended the cut up watermelon to him.

MC: The fruit shop owner told me that the one I picked was the sweetest. Try it?

Kiro: Is that so? Let me try.

Having said that, Kiro turned his wrist and handed the intact piece of watermelon in his hand to my mouth.

MC: Kiro, I want you to eat first...

I swallowed it halfway and thought of a better method.

I lowered my head and bit of the reddest piece on the triangular tip of the watermelon, but I didn't swallow. Instead, I held it between my teeth and looked at him intently.

MC: Mm?

Just a deliberately soft nasal sound was enough of a suggestion.

Kiro's eyelashes trembled, and the next moment, he had already leaned over.

The tip of his tongue rubbed against my teeth and swept away the watermelon. After just a slight squeeze, the abundant juice overflowed between our lips.

The strands of fruit fiber were torn apart in the entanglement, and were swallowed up with the bright pink juice and colorless body fluid.

I pursed my moist lips and smiled triumphantly.

MC: How about it? Am I right? Isn't it particularly sweet?

Kiro gave me a more cunning smile in return.

Kiro: Mm. The first bite was indeed sweet.

He took another bite of the unfinished piece of watermelon, and the vague sound mixed with the sweet fruit covered my breath again.

Kiro: Now, I want to try other places to see if it's just as sweet.

The dormant computer was still humming, and the room was quieter than during training. Our rapid overlapping breaths did not affect Apple Box and Cello's sleep.

After we playfully demolished the fruit plate, Kiro lazily held me in his arms and suddenly squeezed my fingers.

Kiro: [With a soft sigh] Were you feeling bored this week?

MC: Why do you ask?

Kiro: Because since I've been in special training this week, I've hardly spent time with you...

MC: Who said you were hardly with me?

I grabbed my phone and turned the photo album over to him.

MC: You train and I take photos. That's also a way of you being with me.

The photo album not only showed Kiro focusing on training, but also the profile of him watching a video of the game, and a short video of him looking for Apple Box to complain when he was tired...

There were even shots of me catching someone eating in the middle of the night because he had consumed too much energy.

Kiro looked at them one by one, and burst out laughing.

Kiro: I've gotta say, why are you always taking pictures of me with your mobile phone recently? You already have so many pictures. Are you going to make a special training documentary for me?

MC: Uh-huh, that's right~ Do you want to look further?

Kiro moved his thumb forward twice more and clicked on the next video.

Kiro: [In the video] So, not bad right?

Kiro: I can tell from your expression that you love me in this uniform, Miss Chips!

The camera was shaking a little under the scorching sun, and it took a few seconds to focus on the protagonist.

The blue and white baseball uniform, the Japanese banner in the distance; everything in it was obviously from a long time ago, but it seemed like it just happened yesterday. Kiro suddenly opened his eyes wide.

T/n: This is a reference to Kiro's Heatwave Date :>

Kiro: Ah! This is--

Kiro: Isn't this the video you took of me when we went to Hitachi High School to play?

MC: Yep. Because you're playing another game, I found the video of the last game to compare it with the current Kiro.

Kiro: Compare?

Kiro: So what are your comparison results?

MC: Hmm... I'd like to hear your thoughts on shooting the main character first?

Kiro: Well... I felt like I was too young and immature at the time.

MC: Huh, is that so?

By the time the video was played, Kiro was already on the field, running and swinging the bat with ease.

MC: I feel like you were already very mature at the time.

Kiro: ...You're so silly, Miss Chips.

MC: Huh?

Kiro looked at me, a little helpless and a little amused. He pointed at the Kiro on the screen and then at himself.

Kiro: I mean, couldn't you tell how I felt when I changed into my baseball uniform and went to find you?

I shook my head honestly. At the time, my whole heart seemed to be hanging on the upcoming game, and I honestly couldn't tell. How did Kiro feel when he came to see me?

Kiro: Okay, but I'm a little embarrassed to say it now. At the time, I probably... really wanted to "spread my peacock feathers" in front of you.

MC: "Spread your peacock feathers"?

Kiro used such a gorgeous adjective that I found it difficult to combine it with his refreshing appearance in the video.

Kiro: Just... I just try my best to show off in front of you, wanting you to praise me for my awesomeness, wanting your eyes to fall only on me...

Kiro: Isn't that just like a peacock spreading it's feathers?

MC: Yeah?

I rewound the progress bar and watched that section again.

I watched him hold up the brim of his hat, quietly take off his glove and talk about his high school baseball level...

MC: Now that you've said it, I find it seems to be true, hahaha!

I looked at Kiro in the video and then at the Kiro in front of me and couldn't help but poke his cheek with my finger.

MC: Why didn't I see at the time that even our famous superstar had such embarrassing acting skills sometimes.

Kiro: [laughing] That's why I said I was too immature at the time.

MC: So the Kiro of now is a mature enough Kiro?

Kiro: Of course.

His breathing suddenly came closer, and the intensity with which he was rubbing my fingers became a little heavier, and slowly climbed upwards.

Kiro: Because now I will directly "spread my peacock feathers" and express my appeal to MC.

With a click, the phone slipped from the palm of my hand.

Cello suddenly let out a long cry. I subconsciously held his restless hand and nuzzled it.

Kiro deliberately pretended not to understand what I meant this time, and his lips were already touching the corner of my mouth.

Kiro: [whispering] Ignore them. I'm "spreading my feathers".

There was still some residual sweetness of the watermelon on his lips, which was addictive in the heat of summer. The numb stroking was like a feather caressing my body, a little ticklish, and arousing a fine shudder.

The air conditioner seemed to be turned on lower, making me instinctively seek out a hotter embrace and dye myself the same temperature.

In a trance, as if something really bloomed in front of my eyes, I murmured.

MC: So... you haven't said what exactly you want.

In the confusion, Kiro seemed to be smiling.

Kiro: Come and praise me for my training efforts with practical actions. I'd like that very much.

[CHAPTER 4]

Director: The sound is in place and the lights are ready!

The sneakers made a slight squaking sound on the wooden floor and the young girls were already in position holding colorful pompoms. The moment the music started playing the youthful and energetic cheerleading dance blossomed in front of the camera.

Willow: Compared with the first run, the players have made great progress! The filming of "Youth Cheerleaders" has now reached its final phase.

Everyone was very pleased to see the contestants on stage growing up step-by-step and was infected by their enthusiasm.

MC: Yes, it makes me want to learn cheerleading...

Willow: Boss, you can certainly learn.

Willow: Isn't is going to be your Kiro's game in a few weeks? Won't it be great for you to wear a cheerleading uniform and cheer him on?

MC: ...It's not that simple, is it?

Willow: Why not? Look, we have coaches, clothing, as well as promotional and cooperation channels for charity matches. Aren't they all readymade?

Willow said it so confidently that I couldn't help but be moved.

On that green field, just as I have been watching him, he would only look at me among thousands of people.

When that picture appeared in my mind, my face felt a little hot.

Willow was called away by the staff. After standing still for a while, I walked towards the professional consultant teacher for this program.

MC: Hello, I have a new cooperation opportunity. Could we chat after the recording?

Maybe I could indeed give Kiro a surprised.

After my discussion with the consultant, I sent a message to Kiro and rushed to the agreed location.

-

Starting from this week, Kiro's hell training has entered the next stage, with actual practice in the outfield and base running.

He hired a professional coach, rented a baseball field, and practiced every day.

Because I'd been busy recording "Youth Cheerleaders" for the past two days, this was the first time I was going to the baseball field to find him.

As soon as I walked to the door, the doorman greeted me cheerfully.

Doorman: Are you the girl that Kiro mentioned?

MC: Mm. What about him? Has he finished training?

Doorman: Your handsome boy has finished practicing today and should be changing clothes in the locker room now.

I thanked the uncle and hurried to the locker room.

-

Because Kiro had reserved the entire baseball field when he signed the lease, I opened the locker room without much care.

MC: Kiro, I'm here! How was the effect of your practice? --Why do you have so many injuries on your body?

Kiro: ....!

Kiro seemed startled by my voice and hurriedly put down his half-undressed clothes.

Kiro: MC?

I rushed to Kiro in two steps. He had been wearing loose home clothes after returning home for the past two days. I didn't notice that he had so many minor scratches.

Upon closer inspection, there were red marks on his face too.

MC: How did this happen?

Kiro: It's nothing. In actual combat training, these are just minor injuries. When I was practicing rugby in high school, I suffered a lot more injuries than I do now.

MC: Did you practice rugby in high school?

Kiro: Mm. [Loud exhale] At the time I wanted to learn everything and compete in everything. I even trained for a while to win a game.

Seeing that he wanted to change the subject again, I quickly grabbed the first aid kit from the glove cabinet.

MC: I can help treat your wounds while listening to your memories. So you sit tight now and don't move.

Kiro: It really doesn't matter to me - hiss!

I just gently poked him with my fingertips, and Kiro immediately retracted his arms in an exaggerated manner, blinking pitifully.

Kiro: Mm....

MC: Hmph, didn't someone just say that these were minor injuries?

Kiro: It can't withstand your poke. If you poke me, I'll be "seriously injured".

Kiro whispered with a smile, but took off his baseball uniform, revealing the black lining.

The semi-wet lining fit tightly on his thin waist. I swallowed inexplicably and suddenly, and quickly lowered my head to apply the iodine.

MC: We-were you always hit by the ball?

Kiro: There were also cases where I'd fall while running the basses, and get hit when blocking someone...

Although I knew that he had been training a lot during that time, I still felt a little sad when I heard him say it so casually. I half-crouched in front of him and carefully smeared the scratches on his arms with the medicine.

His fair complexion had just been burned by the scorching sun and was glowing with a beautiful layer of pink. When the dark medicine was applied, it seemed like little flowers were dyed on his body.

Kiro: Is this okay..?

MC: It's early. Since you still want to hide your injuries from me, I'm going to be thorough in my checking this time.

MC: Hm, lift up your shirt.

I ordered sternly and gently poked his chest with a cotton swab. Kiro chuckled lightly and rolled up the corners of the lining with his hands.

Kiro: Enough?

MC: [serious blushing face] Higher.

Kiro: Why not take it off?

MC: ...No need?

Kiro: [pouting] Nurse Chips is so mean today.

Kiro trailed off and rolled up his clothes.

A thin layer of wet sweat gathered along the texture of his skin, and every time his chest rose and fell, water droplets would meander downwards along the lines.

When the medicine soaked into the wound, I could clearly hear him taking a shallow breath.

Then he let out a long sigh of relief, and a stream of air blew through my forehead, like a teasing kiss.

Kiro: Could you be gentler?

He must have done it on purpose. I was obviously already very gentle.

My heartbeat sped up inexplicably, and I bit my lower lip, not wanting to reveal my breathing.

The cotton swab was obviously applied on him, yet, for some reason, I felt my body tighten up with slight impatience.

MC: [blushing] Mm, okay, the inspection is over. It seems like these are the only two spots on your body...

Kiro held the hand that I was about to retract.

When my fingers fell, the cotton swab hooked his loosened belt, making an ambiguous dull sound.

Kiro: [in a dangerously low voice] Why are you so perfunctory all of a sudden?

MC: H-how am I perfunctory?

Kiro: [in a ridiculously sinful whisper] 'Cause the wounded hasn't been examined yet.

The next second, I was lifted by one of his hands.

I gave a short exclamation, but my back was already pressed against the bench in the locker room. The sunlight leaking from the skylight separated us, making it difficult for me to see Kiro's expression clearly.

Feeling guilty, I wanted to sit up, but he had already held my knees down.

MC: Wait - wait a minute, Kiro...

Kiro: I won't wait.

MC: [blushing hard] --There's a phone call!

Indeed, there was a buzzing vibration coming from my bag at the moment.

Kiro pursed his lower lip, then picked up the phone and handed it to me.

The call came from the professional consultant teacher of the cheerleading team. It was inconvenient for me to hang up, so I had no choice but to pick up the call.

MC: He-hello?

Consultant: I thought about what you said during the day. Although time is tight, it is not impossible.

Consultant: I've heard that you have some background in ballet and ballroom dancing. When it comes to choreography, we won't do any difficult movements. We'll focus on beauty and neatness to produce effects...

I replied politely, but I honestly didn't think about most of my words at all. I just wanted to end the phone call as soon as possible.

In my daze, all I felt was that Kiro seemed to have stood and left once. There was a clicking sound from the door, and then he came back again.

MC: Okay, Miss Yu, let's arrange it like this...!

A kiss landed on my collarbone without warning. I was so surprised that I almost bit my tongue.

Kiro: [whispering seductively] Hurry up.

My subconscious struggle was firmly restrained by Kiro, and the second urging kiss continued to climb upward. My heart was beating so fast that I didn't even know what I said to the consultant and quickly hung up the phone.

MC: Kiro, you...

The rest of my words were rolled away by the tip of his tongue.

The desire that had been interrupted by the phone call was reignited in the entanglement, and became even more passionate than before.

The afternoon sun is too bright, I thought in a daze.

The sunlight fell on that soft golden color, and it was so bright as it swayed back and forth, that I couldn't help but close my eyes.

The touch was amplified more and more. The back was hard and the kiss was soft.

His breath was scorching, and the bodies touching each other were scalding hot.

My last trace of reason still led me to make one final struggle, and I spoke intermittently.

MC: Didn't you say you wanted me to continue checking? How can I check now...

Kiro: Why can't you check it?

Kiro took my hand with one hand and put it on his shoulder.

Kiro: Actually... there's only one spot on my body that I haven't applied medicine to yet.

Kiro: But it wasn't from me falling here, It was you who left it yesterday.

Several thin scratches were entrenched on the back of his shoulders, and several thin protrusions fit perfectly with my fingers.

Kiro: So help me.

Part 2: HERE

Translation Masterlist: here

[waltwhitmansbeard]

8 is just absolutely vax and kiki

8. "Your wish is my command." i was a dumbass and reblogged two numbered ask memes with very similar themes in the same day, but i think this is the one you're asking for, bc hello, those mfl vibes!!! let's call this one rated m, just to be safe.

turned my water into wine #52

Every few months, Vex surprises her Royal Guard with an impromptu display of readiness for the royal family. Without warning, she commands them to the training field on the east lawn and sets them through their paces, demanding absolute perfection from each step, each formation, each drill. The sovereign and the princess watch from a small tent, and the former evaluates his guards with an eagle eye. These are the men and women tasked with keeping his home, his family safe; they must be nothing short of perfect.

This time, Vex has asked Vax to assist in the display, a request to which he easily acquiesced, given his presence would already be assured, as the princess's personal guard. His duty: to weave in and out of the mass of soldiers, surreptitiously "stabbing" them with a fake blade and disappearing without a trace. This is, of course, his bread and butter; he easily manages to brand over half a dozen before the first question is raised. Soon, a score of guards have a painted red mark just above their kidney or between their ribs, revealing them to be dead men walking. He's dressed in the Royal Guard regalia, and though the borrowed armor is a bit snug, he seems to go unnoticed as he slips between all of his victims.

Finally, he's spotted. "BLADE!" In a flash, they are on him, and this is the fun part. Vax's daggers twirl, easily fending off their whistling steel and clanging shields. He catches two dozen more with his marking blade before finally, tunic torn and armor split, he is taken to the ground, arms and legs pinned and weapons thrown to the side. Grinning, he beseeches his sister to call off her attack dogs, which she does with a sharp, "BACK TO FORMATION!"

Grumbling, the guards release him, and Vax hops to his feet, feeling quite proud of himself. All told, he managed to "assassinate" over fifty of his sister's elite Royal Guard; he'll be crowing over this for ages.

He lopes back to the princess's side, and he notices her watch his approach with a curious expression. Her father is leaned over, muttering, "—best we'd better hope the Draconians don't have talent half as skilled as this one, lest we all be slaughtered in our sleep—" but Keyleth seems to be paying him no mind. When he says, "I should confer with the Captain, see what additional training or funds are needed," she doesn't even acknowledge his departure from the tent. Her eyes are locked on Vax, who comes to stand before her.

"So, how did I do?"

Now that he's closer, he can make out more details: her skin is red, flushed, her breathing shallow. Her pupils are the size of saucers, and she grips the arms of her wooden chair as if she is worried a hurricane-force wind is coming to knock her out of it. "Your...Highness?"

Keyleth takes a long breath in, holds it, and lets it out slowly, standing up as she does. She is far closer to Vax than she has ever been in public before, and Vax can feel the heat radiating from her body. Her voice is low and tremulous as an earthquake as she says, "I think you ought to escort me back to my rooms before I ruin both of our lives right here on the east lawn."

Vax is instantly hard, and oh, this uniform is not doing him any favors. He lets her eyes bore into his. "Your wish is my command."

[vonlipvig]

Rating the flags of Suzerainverse, based not on any existing vexillological principles, but purely on vibes™

Agnolia: 3/10 this flag...makes me mad. i don't know why, it's not egregiously bad or anything, but there's just something about it that just grinds my fucking gears. like, i look at it and i'm instantly filled with the need to deny their sovereignty over helji island.

Anrakan Isles: 8/10 this one is soooo pretty, i love it a lot (and it's one of the flags that won the community flag contest, a very deserved win!). the green is so lovely, and i love the pop of red, really gorgeous. good amount of detail without going overboard, very lovely.

Arcasia: 6/10 of course arcasia has its stars and stripes. i don't know, it's definitely pretty, but i feel like it's a bit too tryhard. like, ok arcasia we fucking get it. but the color scheme is nice and it's certainly pleasant to look at, so i guess i'll allow it THIS TIME...

Derdia: 3/10 look, i respect the aesthetic, but it's not for me. i don't like too much black in a flag, and i don't like text in a flag, so you can see how we're off to a bad start here, but the symbol is really pretty so i will definitely give them that. the little sword is cute too, they really said warrior culture, huh.

Free Cities: 8/10 honestly? they kind of ate with this one, not gonna lie. it's not a simple flag by any means--i'm imagining the little kids going to school in the free cities crying trying to draw their flag--, but it's just really pretty. the green and yellow color combo looks so striking here, i love it (<-- remember this bit, it will be important later), and the symbol is absolutely gorgeous.

Kyrute: 100/10 OH KYRUTE STOP IT THEY'RE ALREADY DEAD this is so cunty (sorry, KUNTY). i love this one so much, it's simple, elegant, interesting to look at, unique, they really cracked the code with it. it fits kyrute so well, too. amazing job, sweetie, no notes.

Lespia: 7/10 i don't want to admit it, but it's rather pretty, you win this time lespia. again, not a big fan of text, but it's so small it doesn't even register as. the color scheme is very pleasant, i love the red flower and the abundance of yellow, even if it does look a bit too vatican-y. but this is fake europe, so who cares!

Morella: 2.5/10 oh alma saltana my queen (sorry, comrade), i love you girl but your country's flag...it's just a lot. i know i said the green/yellow combo was nice, but this green with that yellow? and then the stripes with the very kiki stars...i don't know, it's not my fave i have to say.

Pales: 7.5/10 respectfully? they also ate with this one, yup. the symbol? okay grand duchy of graphic design, slay! i think it's very pretty, very harmonious, the colors look good together, the logo is clear and definitely gives that royal vibe without being too over the top. i like it.

Qinal: 7/10 oh they really said let's get CREATIVE with this shit, and surprisingly i kind of dig it quite a bit. the colors are so original and somehow work together very well. the form? inspired, honestly. cool symbolism too, honestly pretty good work. i don't know how i feel about the dark stripe, but it's a cool damn flag.

Rizia: 6.5/10 our beloved kingdom, and a pretty solid flag to go with it! i'd say it channels its vibes very effectively. it's not my favorite color scheme, but cmon, they really said 'we want the 6 stars of st. wruhec, we want the crown, we want the bull, we want the shield with the leaves and all that royal shit', and it looks fucking good, so i'll support them.

Rumburg: 6/10 listen, before the rumburgian spies get my ass, it's not bad, ok? it's totally fine, it works, it just scares me somehow. i look at it and immediately think 'rumburg' but i also feel an acute sense of dread. it is so ominous.

Sordland: 1000000/10 BEST FUCKING FLAG IN THE WORLD BEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD A MORGNA WES CORE VECTERN SIS DA BITCHESSSSS. bias aside, this flag is SO pretty i love it so much it's so gorgeous. the maroon with the yellow? OH it's lovely. the symbol is tasteful and fits perfectly. god bless sordland i love you so much.

United Contana: 6.5/10 simple, but it gets the point across, i'd say. pretty and effective, nothing more and definitely nothing less.

Valgland: 5.5/10 it's fine, i guess? it's an odd color combo (say i, whose flag has the same color combo), but the addition of the pop of red with the star is pretty striking AND significant, so i'll definitely give them that. why do you even add text like that, guys, cmon.

Wehlen: 7/10 ugh, you hate to see a bitch you despise thriving, i do like this flag. it just looks cool, they don't deserve to have a cool flag (well, no, smolak doesn't deserve it). i will say that it's a bit too much white space, but it still looks so cool.

Yarktralis: 10/10 I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH TOO (another of the flag contest winners! great job!). it fits them so well and it's so visually stunning and OH i just love it a lot. gorgeous to look at, absolutely stunning.

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

I had an idea come to me about the modern au. What if, probably during quarantine, Trinket starts becoming alert to Keyleths heart issues. You know how some dogs will unintentionally train themselves to be service dogs, if trinket is around Keyleth all the time during the pandemic and then just starts bopping her right before an episode or shoveling her towards a seat because he can hear her heart rate? Maybe no one realizes it at first until one night with a pretty intense episode (I'm not sure how her heart stuff works) trinket gets on top of her and won't let her move till after it has passed, then all the other little things he does becomes more obvious. Of course he is still Vex's dog and he wouldn't just become Keyleth's servics dog but maybe like when Keyleth is struggling or something they will just drop trinket in her apartment to 'keep her company'

HELLO

I love this idea so much. Trinket is already so attuned to Vex that it's easy for him to realize that Keyleth is having some issues and he can hear her heartbeat so he knows that it's off. And since Keyleth can't leave the apartment at all, he spends so much time around her.

I think that it does inspire Kiki to get her own service dog, especially once she starts making money and can afford it. And is that a fun way to get Honey into the modern au? Yes absolutely.

[darkcloud-kcalifornia]

So, witch traditions in Kiki’s Delivery Service. Let’s discuss. Now first off it should be acknowledged this is a children’s novel that is not particularly interested in world building. The unfortunate implications likely ain’t meant to be there, this is just reading to much into things.

But I like doing that.

Thought about with any amount of depth, Kiki’s situation pretty much means she’s screwed. Not because a girl her age couldn’t take care of herself. I mean, she probably can’t, but she does know the way back home if it comes to that and while I doubt it’ll be acknowledged the bakers have pretty much adopted her. No, the problem is education.

Now I don’t have an exact year this is taking place and it’s not necessarily going to match up with the real world, but if they have portable radios and commercial airplanes then calling it a modern era setting isn’t unreasonable. And Kiki is a girl in that setting who doesn’t attend school. Which is kind of important for employment prospects. She’s not just a high school dropout, she’s a middle school dropout. That ain’t good. Now you might argue that she already has a unique education and trade. But does she? Does she really? The only things she can do is fly on a broom and talk to her cat. That doesn’t leave her with a lot of options. And she doesn’t even know how to set rates for her courier service. You think she knows enough math to handle budgeting? Or taxes when the time comes? And the kicker is this isn’t just Kiki’s problem. Every witch is falling into this.

Traditionally a witch’s daughter decides is she wants to be one too at the age of 10. She then is expected to strike out on her own when she comes of age at 13. That leaves them just three years to learn all about the trade. When they’re just kids with little concept of long term planning and concerns, and likely not much in the way of attention spans either.

Gee, I wonder why so many magics and ways of doing things have been lost over the years! Their own traditions have made anything else fundamentally impossible. Those same traditions have also left them completely unable to deal with the modern world. Now yes, a witch can visit her parents after a year of being out on their own, but the occasional visit and correspondence isn’t going to be enough to pass knowledge down the line. The only witchy skills you can get from a correspondence course is turning people into rabbits and fighting Nazis. And while both are nice skills to have, they do not a full witch make.

[cinamun]

I can ask, respectfully of course, if you can give us any recommendations for creators of ww animations that have a romantic touch

Absolutely! I think the biggest misconception of WW is that its all x-rated filth and I can confirm, it is not. Unless it's Indya and Darren, but I digress.

Greynaya has some very sensual/romantic kissing animations as does Kiki Chain and there's a creator named KyleWooHoo who has safe-for-work cuddling animations and GTA does too (I don't know what GTA stands for, that's just their username in loverslab lol). E404P I reserve for Indya and Darren because.... reasons but most of their teasing animations are actually little movies and cute.

No matter the creator, you can typically find the teasing category to be your friend in terms of romantic animations.

Also, I never do auto-undress and rather just undress manually. No need to be butt nekkid kissing and holding hands lol

[elizadushkudaily]

Dollhouse - S2

September 2009. Eliza Dushku plays Echo in 2x01 Vows. (IMDB rating: 7 / 10)

Dollhouse Season 2, Episode 1: Vows. "Echo enters an assignment as a newlywed who is undercover trying to bring down an arms dealer."

Some of Eliza's more memorable named imprints and their main episodes in S2 were: undercover spy Roma Klar (2x01), college student Kiki (2x03), and serial killer Terry Karrens (2x03).

S2 focused more on Echo becoming self aware, and accessing her prior personas. She spends more of the season as Echo rather than the imprints. S2 also has Echo leading the fight against the Dollhouse company and larger forces. (S2 average IMDB rating: 8 / 10)

Fox cancelled Dollhouse after two seasons. The final episode aired on January 29, 2010. When the S2 DVD was released in October 2010, Eliza was asked:

Do you feel happy with how the show ended?

"Yeah, I thought it was beautiful. It was really full circle and having the cast and the apocalypse back from "Epitaph One," which I just loved... It's such a complex show, and so much had happened, and yet the way they tied it up and really brought closure, not just to the characters but to everybody that was on the show, the actors… it was just comforting to see it end that way, to have that closure..."

"I love it, I miss it... I have all these beautiful, nostalgic feelings coming back. It's bittersweet. I'm so proud of what we did."

(image credit to IMDB, interview credit to Gizmodo)

related gifs and posts: 2x01 Vows 2x02 Instinct 2x03 Belle Chose 2x04 Belonging 2x05 The Public Eye 2x06 The Left Hand 2x07 Meet Jane Doe 2x08 A Love Supreme 2x09 Stop Loss 2x10 The Attic 2x11 Getting Closer 2x12 The Hollow Men 2x13 Epitaph Two: Return

[kingofbodyrolls]

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | teaser + drop date

Hi all you lovely people 🥰

I just want to give you an update on ‘My Heart’s Home’, because I said I’d hoped to be able to post it this week (week 9), but I have to push it one more week— IT HAS BEEN RELEASED; chapter 1 🥳

And then, a chapter will be posted twice a week! (on Mondays and Thursdays)

I want to thank each and every one of you— especially those on the taglist and @letjungcoook7! Thank you so much for being interested in the story, and Lua, for reading some of it and hyping me up 🥹 To be honest, I didn’t think anyone could be interested in it, or care. So I’m over the moon, and I hope you will enjoy it ✨

*the book cover is just me having fun lol, I couldn’t help myself 😂 Because you’ve been so patient and nice, I’ll give you a 1.2k teaser for ‘My Heart’s Home’.

Summary: You’d never thought you’d step foot back at the ranch– a place you used to call home a long time ago. When you are forced to go back, reconcile with your sister and a certain childhood friend that you had long forgotten, will sparks reunite?

Pairing: jimin x reader (main) and jungkook x reader (one time). There’s other pairings throughout the story, but those aren’t with the reader, but between the other characters— there’s one mxm relationship but it’s very minor.

Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters.

AUs: ranch!au, slice of life!au

Genres: smut, humor, fluff, slow burn and angst (yes, it’s got everything lol!)

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

Word count for the teaser: 1.2k (approx. 180k for whole series)

Taglist: @kookswifesblog @kiki-zb @babejinnie @ownthesunshine @allie-is-a-panda @glllhjh* @bergandysam @13-manggaetteok

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

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In the morning, you gradually rouse to the sensation of something firm pressing against your face, yet there's an unexpected tenderness, a gentle caress against your skin. Your pillow, typically mundane, now cradles your head in an oddly satisfying manner, prompting you to nuzzle into it, seeking additional solace. A contented murmur escapes your lips in fatigue as you attempt to stretch your limbs, only to discover the subtle ache that permeates your entire body.

Wait.

Your eyes snap open in realization. This isn't the familiar embrace of your bed, and the comforting pillow beneath your head is anything but ordinary. A surge of awareness courses through you as you come to terms with an unexpected reality – you're sprawled across Jimin's thigh. 

More precisely, you’re nestled against his groin, where you abruptly discover the undeniable evidence of his morning arousal.

You spring to attention, the warmth of embarrassment coloring your cheeks, heart racing like a runaway train against your ribcage. In the hazy glow of early morning, you fumble for the most sincere apology you can conjure, breathlessly exclaiming, “Oh, goodness! I'm so sorry!”

As you settle onto the couch, your gaze locks with his still sleepy and drowsy eyes. The realization hits that you both must have drifted off in this intimate position, with you cradled in the warmth of his inviting lap.

Jimin's chuckle resonates like a melodious tune in the early morning, a soothing sound that plays a soft serenade to your ears. Despite your efforts to steady your heartbeat and contain the fluttering sensations, his laughter creates a symphony that dances through the awakening air.

“It's okay. I just woke up,” he rises and stretches, a lazy yawn escaping his lips. Why does he have to look this enticing? His blonde locks cascade in unruly curls, framing a face that's both soft and slightly puffy from sleep. Those pink lips, as if kissed by the night, slightly nibbled, beckon dangerous thoughts. As he stretches, biceps tensing and shirt teasingly riding up, a glimpse of his happy trail emerges, a sight your eyes try to resist but fail. Damn it, you scold yourself, but then his armpit becomes visible, and even that seems inexplicably appealing.

Oh, he smells divine—powdery softness, a hint of sweetness, warmth, and richness all mingling to craft an intoxicating musky scent. It envelops you, leaving your entire being tingling with an irresistible allure.

Jimin appears entirely unfazed, but you're left feeling utterly flustered, convinced your cheeks must be ablaze. “I'm so sorry for dozing off on you. I meant to offer you my bed, but I guess I fell asleep before I could say anything,” you chuckle, trying to shake off the lingering traces of sleep from your weary body.

A sudden realization strikes you like a bolt of lightning. 

Oh my god. If you’re sore, Jimin must be too! You practically slept on his injured leg!

“I apologize for your leg—I can't believe I slept on it. I might have undone all the massage from yesterday,” you groan in frustration, scolding yourself for your apparent weakness for this man. He's your childhood friend, the one who came and told you that you belong— at the place you once called home, reigniting something dormant within you, a feeling that has slumbered for centuries, now awakening and blossoming slowly.

“It's really okay,” he assures you with a soft squeeze to your leg. His hand feels firm and warm, mirroring his comforting presence. You realize a desire for more, but you tread carefully on dangerous waters, doing your best to keep your more horny thoughts in check.

“I'll have to head back soon,” he says, punctuating his statement with another heartfelt yawn, a languid stretch emphasizing the inevitable departure.

“Do you like pancakes? I could whip up a batch before you head out,” you suggest, caught between the genuine desire to treat him to a hearty breakfast and the subtle hope that it might extend his stay, sparing him the long drive on an empty stomach.

“Absolutely,” he responds, his soft smile revealing a glimpse of those charmingly crooked teeth. As you rise from your seat and head into the kitchen to whip up the pancakes, a subtle urgency whispers in your mind, warning that if you linger too long, keeping your hands to yourself might become an increasingly challenging feat.

With a culinary flair, you whip up the pancakes in record time, the aroma of warm batter filling the air. As you both settle around the small dining table, the atmosphere is filled with the comforting clinks of cutlery against plates. Amidst bites of fluffy pancakes, Jimin unveils the captivating tale of wild horses roaming the ranch, a narrative that unfolds with tales of Yoongi's quest to tame these untamed spirits, turning them into dependable companions through a gentle, patient approach. 

Fascinated, you ponder the intricacies of Jimin's story. “I had no idea such a thing was possible,” you muse, savoring a sip of water as if to quench not just your thirst but also your curiosity.

“Yoongi has a real knack for gentling horses, it's like second nature to him,” he shares, his smile lighting up the room as he effortlessly joins you in tidying up after the meal.

As the moment lingers, a subtle sense of farewell hovers in the air, but you're not quite ready to part ways with Jimin. The warmth of his company, the echoes of the past, all make you wish he didn't have to leave just yet.

Gratitude colors his words as he stands in the hallway, boots on, ready to step out into the world again. “Thank you for having me over,” he expresses, his gaze carrying a blend of sincerity and a hint of reluctance.

“No problem,” you respond with a soft smile, “having you here was truly enjoyable.”

“I hope to see you again, maybe back home?” His gaze lingers in your eyes for what feels like an eternity. There you stand, like a lovestruck fool, anticipating the one thing your brain has been yearning for since you glimpsed his softly bitten lips in the morning. The hope in his voice resonates, causing your heart to beat erratically in your chest once more.

Your gaze rises to meet his, and as he strides closer, his eyes lock onto yours. The proximity is electrifying; you sense his warm breath teasing your face, and anticipation builds as he leans in, closing the space between you.

You surrender to the moment, shutting your eyes as his warm hands cradle your cheeks. A delicate touch, his nose brushes against yours, setting off a delightful jolt that courses through your entire being. Then, in a tender ascent, his plush lips descend upon your forehead, leaving an imprint of warmth that lingers.

Instinctively, your fingers tighten around his biceps, a reflexive response to the unexpected closeness. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as the realization dawns – he's kissing your forehead, a gentlemanly gesture that leaves a trail of warmth lingering on your skin.

He withdraws, and as you open your eyes, his warm, smiling face is the last thing you see. “See you at home,” he whispers, leaving you with a fluttering heart and a lingering promise in the air.

As he gracefully exits the room, descending the stairs with an effortless charm, your heart beats wildly, a flutter of butterflies threatening to carry you away. Your entire being tingles, breath caught in a sweet suspension. A lovestruck smile plays on your lips, lingering like the echo of his presence.

Home.

He wants you to come home.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 28- Part 1

Well, this music is still inexplicably sad- maybe it's because of the gross-looking sand from the gross water. But we're not gonna progress just by standing here, so let's begin exploring.

Oooh, the sand isn't gross, it's just ashy! At least, I'm pretty sure that's ash. These rocks definitely look volcanic, so that checks out. Let's look around a bit before checking that passage.

How fitting. Now, between those rocks we go-

Aaaand there's another ritual gathering down there, cool- but more importantly, an item!

Ah!? Hey, it's her! The woman from the power plant screen! So, is that Kiki? Alright, good to know where to find her- now what's this item?

Okay, not too bad, even though I already have a Sea Incense. Can't do much else here, so let's head back to the beach and continue making our way up.

Isn't this the same battle music as when we fought that Beartic at Citrine Mountain? Which I'm now pretty sure is a Frontier Brain remix? Interesting choice-

Also, it looks like this beach is associated with a new Field, okay. Can't worry too much about that right now though, we're gonna need Kirin for this!

Minimize…okay, but that shouldn't be too bad, Kirin can still hit the Zen Headbutt.

Mmmm. I won't get mad a this, I've played other RPGs, dodge tanks are as valid as other tanks, third time will surely be the charm-

Uh-? What does that mean?

Well- whatever that message was, it worked for that battle. Looks like I'll be getting well-acquainted with this Field as long as I'm on this beach. What's next?

Oh, I can sell that! Money!

Oh, hello little cucumbers. Are these static encounters? Well, no reason to pass one up, hello-

I think the best way to do this would be to paralyze it with Glare™ and then lower its HP with Acid Spray.

Good move on my part, this Pyukumuku knows Counter! But I don't think I can afford to use another Acid Spray, let's just throw a Ball.

…Oh. I forgot to buy more Poké Balls. Um- this shouldn't be a problem though, right? Pyukumuku’s catch rate can't be that high, yeah?

Aaah- I don't wanna waste an Ultra Ball, but I also don't wanna reset for something like this, so…Ultra Ball it is!

I forgot to screenshot it, but I named her Coast because…I mean, that's where they live and appear. It was either that or Beach. Now, one moment-

(One shopping spree later-)

Back to running around!

I'm guessing those folks over there are Trainers, but let's stick to the coastline itself for the time being before heading inwards.

Next

[crispysnake]

Scuttles in late to Kiki and Percy watching documentaries, apologies if any of this has been poked at before:

Okay but each of them trading off who is solemnly like 'its the circle of life' versus being super emotional when a predator makes a kill or harsh conditions claim a life in nature docs. A tradeoff between Keyleth Knowing nature better despite being more emotional and Percy getting hit right in the wiggly trauma feels.

It's also worth pointing out that not all documentaries are actually... yknow, educational. A lot are biased or otherwise include some pretty incorrect info. (Blackfish is an infamous one, or that one dino doc that fuckin. took quotes out of context and pissee off the paleontologist consultants.)

Percy would not handle inaccurate documentaries well. At All. Oh man he'd get prissy and snip about why this is a COMPLETE misrepresentation of the data, until Keyleth finally pauses and he can rant about it. I think Keyleth would be better at hatewatching than Percy, if that makes sense? I can't articulate Why at 1:30am, but I think she'd better be able to have fun with it and consider why they're presenting it this way than 'they're Wrong and how Dare they be'. Unless the potential consequences of the misinformation come to mind, in which case she'd be miffed too.

You're never too late!:))))

and oh yeah, they're both old enough to know that's just how things works, but yk some days watching a baby gazelle get separated from its mom and killed does hit a little bit harder for them for there own respective reasons😭

and please I can imagine them doing a documentary hate party for the worst rated ones in their field, and it just two hours of percys angry fact checking, It gets him HEATED, he can't believe they got even the simplest mechanic wrong! how could they! that's his favorite part! I think keyleth can hate watch easier cause she takes comfort in knowing that she Knows things and she Knows when the information is wrong, but she is indeed affected by percys energy, there's more passive aggressive comments when stuff dangerously dumb gets said.

like I think Keyleth got more heated but also found it stupidly dumb, when Discovery Channel released that Megaladon documentary claiming its still alive, and forgot to put a disclaimer at the end saying it was fiction😭 imagine if that came out when she was younger? little Keyleth would have been DEVASTATED when she found out it wasn't true.