#i think this one has to be put out to pasture ..

[littlecactiguy]

A short writing exercise on John Doe from Malevolent, roughly based on a short video from I want to say late last summer/fall where Harlan voiced over them doing a farming game (I think? It's been a while, but I'm fairly certain that was a thing. Anyway, it's been sitting as a draft that long).

Let me know what you think <3 I'm considering signing up for the big bang as a writer, but want to get a feel for this fandom space before I commit to anything.

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Of the three horses in the pasture, only the one John himself has now learned to ride comes over at his approach to the fence. Arthur’s gelding’s ears rotate in his direction, but the creature doesn’t seem to consider John more important than his grazing. The big, old draft horse who came with the small farm, and is enjoying his retirement immensely, continues to enjoy both the sunlight and his nap.

John isn’t so self absorbed as to believe his mare has any specific allegiance to him. She’s a horse. She’s intelligent, but he’s not been convinced that she has the capacity to understand the finer points of reasoning on why she shouldn’t ally herself with a former horror from beyond human comprehension. She’s simply learned to associate him with certain things.

Slowly, John takes the apple he’d snatched from the kitchen table fruit bowl out of his pocket.

Like treats. Mostly treats.

John holds out his hand, the apple carefully balanced on his palm. His mare sniffs. Her whiskers tickle his hand. Then, she accepts the offering. The mare’s lips rub against John’s hand as she takes and crushes the apple between her powerful teeth.

It’s a strange sensation, but not an unpleasant one. John has found he rather likes it. Touching a fellow living creature, feeling its warmth and its life beneath his fingertips is…

It’s hard to describe. Despite his attempts to do so in a journal he has firmly told Arthur he’ll murder him for if he ever comes close to reading, John still doesn’t know how. His relationship to sensation while in Arthur’s body has become a hazy dream he can only half-remember, but the parts he does…

Those are…

They weren’t all bad, John often convinces himself. The cold and the chill, the empty, simply all haunt in a way warmth, true warmth, not the burning heat of freshly spilled blood, do not. It makes their memory sharper in his mind’s eye, easier to recall.

John’s mare steps closer, reaching her head over the fence to nuzzle at his pockets.

“I’m afraid that’s all I have today.” John strokes her mane. Focuses on the softness. Allows the thought of its comfort to wash the fragments of dark doubts back into the deep ocean from whence they came. “Arthur may have a point about too many treats, but we won’t tell him that, will we?”

This mare had never been afraid of John, or growled at him like various dogs he’d met, whose eyes told John they could see him in ways others could not. He’d attributed her lack of fear, at first, to her perhaps not being all that smart, but the mare has indicated otherwise (largely through pasture escape attempts, which John can’t truly fault her for, being able to go where you want when you want is quite nice).

He doesn’t believe she’d ally herself with him if she knew any better, but horses, even the dim ones, are also notoriously, instinctively, jumpy creatures.

John’s mare’s calm around him makes him feel something he refuses to put to words in fear it’ll be chased away.

Even if it’s only, obviously, most likely only due to the apples.

[starlyhta]

this is an archive,   find me here!  🐑

[ghouljams]

Friend.

Viking!Ghost with a huge wolf-dog.

Or, even better : shepherd!reader with a huge wolf-dog, or two ; big, ferocious babies who absolutely love the guy, smothering him in kisses and floof every time he visits his darling. Huge balls of fluff who are absolutely delighted when he picks both of them up as if they were still puppies. Reader falling a little bit more in love with him every time she catches him interact with them, gently talking to them as their tails wag and wag and wag. And Ghost who has to suck in a breath when he finds her asleep in the barn after she spent the night helping one of her sheep give birth, the two dogs acting as really big and warm blankets, along with all the other sheep ; just a huge pile of snuggles that won’t let any kind of cold wind through. Just utter cuteness, and the huge, powerful viking is smitten.

My period has been acting up since yesterday, and last night was a nightmare. I’m a little bit better, but I can’t eat otherwise it’s gonna start all over again. I am not hurt, I AM the hurt. I really wish I had a big doggo or one of my cats to snuggle with, or a partner to help with the panic attacks this shoot always comes with (or all of those, I need warmth and cuddles and love).

I wanna write, by I can’t, because brain not braining properly. So I’m imagining fluffy scenarios while listening to the rain outside.

The birds are singing in harmony with the rain. It’s a cozy melody.

Lots of love, Friend.

Mii, out (like a light, soon, probably).

You're getting used to the visits. The giant of a viking that hovers just at the edge of your fence, watching like he's got something to say only to turn away when you ask him to say it. The dogs like him, galloping over to the man every time his shadow crosses your fence. They wiggle and jump like puppies, pushing their big paws against his chest and stretching long with their heads back, the only man that hasn't been bowled over by them yet. You can't blame them for their affections.

Your guest scoops up one of them and cradles the overgrown mutt against his chest. Your dog, for all its ferocity, licks at his mask like the tamest pup in a litter. You get your flock settled before making your way over. It's a fair assumption the viking won't walk away with your dog, so you're guessing he's worked up the nerve for a conversation. You manage to get all the way to the fence, though he takes a step back when you lean against it. You switch your attention to the dog still on the ground and scratch under her chin. Her big eyes stare sadly up at you, as if you could pick her up like the viking.

"Ghost," he says, and you're struck by how rich his voice is, deep and smokey as a dwarves cavern, "you can call me Ghost," he explains, apparently having realized his attempted start at a conversation wasn't going to go anywhere.

"There another viking hidin' his face like you?" You ask him, the introduction is lovely (if a little awkward) but everyone in the village knows Ghost. Or, they know of him. Nobody really knows him. You figure that's what the mask is for.

"Suppose not," he replies, and there's a touch of humor in his voice you hadn't expected. It makes you think he's smiling. Somehow that makes your cheeks feel hot. Strange.

"What do you need Ghost?" You ask, leaning against the fence. He leans to put your dog down, and the other one goes to nose his hand. He scratches her head lightly before straightening up.

"Just came to pet the dogs," he tells you. You smile. "No show this time?" He asks.

"No wolves," you nod towards the pasture, your flock safe and sound as they graze. Your eyes land on the wolf fang sewn to his leather. It's familiar enough to make your heart squeeze. You wish he'd come for you.

-

You're not out in the pasture, or answering the door when he knocks. It's early but Ghost didn't think you'd be that sound a sleeper. Fucking hell it's early, he shouldn't even be here but he wanted to see you before he left and- and he couldn't stop himself. He was delaying leave for his own selfish desired, but he couldn't stop himself from coming out to your little pasture. He had no excuse for it, nothing he could tell you, but he didn't want to talk to you he wanted to see you.

These are two different things.

He wanders around the fence you've put up, sturdy, well maintained. He wonders if you fix it up yourself or ask someone else to do it. You could ask him, he'd fix it for you. He'd fix anything for you. As long as it was you asking, he could do anything.

He stops outside a little covered barn, the hay leading into it is fresh, the doors slightly ajar. It's a good bet if he's ever seen one. The hinges don't stick when he inches the door open to look inside.

One of your dogs lifts its head from your lap, and stares at him, it's fluffy tail wagging softly against the hay. You're asleep, of course you're asleep. Sprawled over the hay, your dogs cuddled around you, the rest of the sheep settled to huddle close to their shepherd as well. You're surrounded by thick wool and wirey dogs, hardly bothered by the animals and straw as you sleep through the wee hours of the morning. You don't even look cold.

Ghost unhooks his cloak, the black leather and wolf's fur feeling ominous in such a pastoral scene, and drapes it over you like a blanket. Your dogs sniff it inquisitively, nosing it until he pushes their heads away with gentle pats. He tucks the fur against your neck and strokes his knuckles against your cheek. You're so beautiful, soft and vulnerable even under your fangs. He would have taken you to bed last night if you'd let him. Stayed up to watch the ewe and her new lamb while you curled up under the pelt blankets to sleep. How safe must you feel? How safe would he feel?

His thumb strokes against the fur and he stands. You'll still be here when he gets back, maybe not in the barn but here. In the village, in your pasture, right where he knows he can find you.

And hopefully, you'll be wearing his cloak when he does.

[frogchiro]

okay wait why am i now just hearing about butcher/slasher ghost, and why am i foaming at the mouth!!!???! like ripping apart pillows, tearing down walls, doing flips—RAHHH i am officially OBSESSED!!

i read it and thought of texas chainsaw massacre, but it’s the 2006 one so like simon is an absolute menace but he sees a pretty lady who’s new to town and his cold killer heart just can’t help but swoon :((( and she’s so polite, nervous, and timid because it’s so different in this town and simon with his cursed blessed keen sense of smell

OH MY GOD BUT SLASHER GRAVES IN A SMALL TOWN DOWN IN TEXAS!!!?

so sorry if this is a lot!! 😣 i’m just a little obsessed 🤭🤭 either way, have an amazing day!! stay hydrated and make sure to eat 🩷🩷

HOW THE FUCK DID I NEVER THINK OF SLASHER GRAVES

My dear, I know that you probably expected Butcher!Ghost but I'm highjacking this ask now and writing slasher Graves because oh my god-

The setting I imagine to be in a small southern town in Texas, and I imagine it to be like one of those creepy, small southern gothic towns with the old abandoned churches, houses and old beaten up signs that say "His return is near" or "God is watching you", you get the idea.

And there we have Philip Graves who owns a big ranch passed down for generations in his family, and by big I mean HUGE. Enormous pastures, corn fields, cows, horses, pigs and all that which means he and his name is quite well know in the area which admittedly makes his...hobby a lot easier than you'd think. Graves has friends in high places and he's buddy buddy with the town's sheriff, basically the golden child of the town which means that both the police and the sheriff will turn a blind eye to the "sudden disappearances" of people, be it locals or newcomers to town.

But the thing is that Philip Graves is bored. Bored out of his mind and nothing seems to excite him anymore, not even the desperate hysterical screams of his victims do the thing anymore. Sure he definitely has the money, the looks that refined well with age, he's respected and liked in the community but the truth is-he doesn't give a shit about it.

I imagine that Slasher!Graves is an incredibly arrogant man, and while he may put on a pleasant facade, his accent a thick and purring drawl and his southern charm do the trick he's a whimsical and capricious prick who gets easily bored and when he does...Well let's just say that it doesn't end pretty.

So imagine how surprised he was when he was in town once in his pickup truck, cowboy hat low on his brow as he watched the cars go by when suddenly his eyes were caught by a bus, one of those that travel for very long distances and the only person who got out was you. To say that Philip's interest was piqued would be an understatement; what's a pretty soft little thing like you doing in this bumfuck nowhere in Texas?

A pretty young lady, seemingly around 20, who looked like a lost little lamb, but just what were you doing here? Everything about you screamed that you're obviously not from here and while he could see even from a distance that you tried to act confident, his sharp blue eyes saw right through that act-you were scared shitless and more than lost. Were you here to visit someone? Or maybe...you are running from something? Whatever the case was, you definitely caught his attention in more than one way.

You just looked...so soft, so pretty, lovely he'd even say and I'm sorry but this Graves that we're talking about would definitely be a little misogynistic :(( He's old fashioned, maybe it comes with his age or maybe due to how his pa raised him but the further he observed you the more he he couldn't help but think about how such a pretty young lady like yourself should be married off already to a nice gentleman, getting provided for like you deserve and in return takin' care of your husband too; bringing him beer, cookin' and popping out a kid or two :((

His train of thoughts got interrupted only by a loud booming voice calling out his name cheerfully and when he turned around annoyed to see who was interrupting him, it turned out to be old Michael, an old friend of his pa. He greeted him politely but when he turned around to watch you a little more it turned out that you already wandered off, sneaky girl.

Philip cursed under his breath but on the other hand he decided to just ask the sheriff about you since he knows that the man has access to all the information about any newcomers to town. It looks like his bored streak came to an end <3

[cowboyjen68]

Do the Republicans in your area give you any grief about being butch?

The first day my girlfriend (at the time) and I moved into our new house in rural Iowa in 1999 we ran a rainbow flag under our American Flag up the shiny new pole my dad and I installed in the front yard. (complete with a light to shine on them at night).

I have been in my home over 24 years and have not experienced any issues at all. I am pretty well known in my community from the Post Master to the Feed Store to the local shops in nearby towns and I only get greeted with "hi" or "good morning".

I work at a farm, I shop at the locker and raw dairy and small town hardware store. I eat at the breakfast cafe in the County seat . I have helped more that one idiot get their truck unstuck from the mud on the B level road next to my pasture.

I actually have no idea where any of my neighbors stand politically and really, it doesn't matter. When one of them needs help with something I am there and when it is time to put up my hay, Kevin from next door is always on hand to help. He takes Red's Apple Ale as payment for his time.

Perhaps it is because we are only 20 minutes from Cedar Rapids and 40 from Iowa City. Maybe because over the years I am just regular site and just one of the locals. I am no threat to their beliefs because I don't care to tell others how to feel and think about my presence in the community. The best gifts I given myself has been to be a good neighbor and customer, confident in who I am, a lesbian and butch woman and to smile and say "hello" when I am out and about.

I am sure it is a combination of being very lucky, living in just the right place and my personality.

There is no way they don't know I am a lesbian. I continue to hang up the rainbow flag in June, a labrys flag in May and one look at me is a dead giveaway with or without noticing my rainbow necklace. My social media is often tagged Iowa so I show up on the feeds of lots of people who don't know me but see me in public and say they follow me.

Iowa, the area of Iowa, I occupy is pretty much a live and let live mind set. No one wants to be told what to think. People appreciate others showing up to help and no one brings up politics during small talks or casual conversations with strangers in line at the DMV.

When the subject has come up or during election season (which seems very often in Iowa) every conversation I have had with others is respectful even in disagreement. I don't get worked up with I see the flaws in the politics of others. It is an argument I can't win if they are going off of false pretense and their minds are firm. So I don't spend the energy unless they really want to listen, which does happen. In turn I listen to them. Listening shows respect but there is no expectation of mind changing.

[callme-darling]

all these ppl in ur asks talking abt Pierre has me tweaking thinking about a continuation of ur rival!pierre fic where he picks a fight w u in front of everyone then goes on to worship u when yall r alone 😵‍💫😵‍💫

the cow prince & the dairy queen (pt.2)

word count: 2.8k

warnings: rivals with benefits dynamic, pierre is a bit of a prick, smut, little plot, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, car sex, mentions of alcohol, pls let me know if i missed anything

a/n: this isn’t really a finished piece, but pls accept these pierre chavanges crumbs🙏🏻 (side note: this is lowkey FILTHY)

you can find pt.1 here

it had been a few weeks since yours and pierre’s fling in the pasture. a part of you was content to leave it as that—a one time act of lust; nothing more, nothing less. you both seemingly went back to your respective work; tending to your own farms with little more than an occasional nod or glare in the others direction depending on the day.

you would have been happy to never speak of it, let alone think of it. it seems, however, your happiness is irrelevant when it comes to circumstance.

fabrice was hosting a small, informal get together for the community. well technically another of his friends put it all together, fabrice simply agreed to host it at his house. and just about everyone in town was invited; including, of course, pierre chavanges.

initially, you were going to decline the invitation, but it was rare to see anyone else these days, and rarer still to be able to talk to them for more than a fleeting passing-by. so you agreed and gave fabrice a kind thanks before hanging up the phone. and now you stand in his yard, mentally kicking yourself to be so naive to think this was a good idea.

all was well for the first half hour or so. you made amiable conversation with some people you knew, some you didn’t, and the plastic cup in your hand was a comforting weight of liquid courage. yes, all was well—until you heard a loud chorus of cheers come from near the house. instantly, you smile fell when you saw whose presence was the cause for the ruckus.

you secretly had hoped he would decline the invitation, much like you almost had. but, also like yourself, he must have felt a keen obligation to his friends to at least make an appearance.

and almost immediately, your eyes met. his eyes narrowed in on you, like a predator singling out the weakest of the herd. you finish your drink and slide into a thicker part of the crowd, hoping to get the pair of lingering eyes off of you.

for nearly an hour you succeeded in avoiding one another. but then, as the party gradually began to taper off and more people began to head for their respective homes, you were drug into fabrice’s kitchen for a ‘final round’ before officially calling it a night.

and to everyone’s surprise, and your dismay, pierre had managed to stick it out too.

everyone was in boisterous conversation while you studied the contents of the cup in your hand, the earthy beer a little musty to your tastes.

“say, y/n-“ you’re pulled from your thoughts by one of the guys, “you’ve been awfully quiet tonight. don’t tell me we’re boring you.”

you force a small laugh at the jest, your eyes briefly glancing around the small room, unsurprised to find pierre looking straight at you. “no, no,” you shake your head, reclining your hips against the counter. “just been a long day.”

“the queen probably finds our conversations below herself.” the guys laugh heartily at pierre’s cheap jab. you just roll your eyes, you and pierre are easily the most sober in the room, so you excuse the others. but your glare finds pierre’s easily.

his tall friend picks up on the animosity quickly despite his inebriation, his eyes glimmering with drunken glee as he points, “ooh c’mon guys. let’s not fight, you’re both equally insufferable when you get like this.”

“i’m perfectly fine. i’m afraid it’s your friend who can’t get off his high horse.”

pierre doesn’t break eye contact as he tilts his head slightly, “she’s right. we should be nice to her majesty. we all know she’s had a rough season, after all.”

“the hell is that supposed to mean, chavanges?” your grip tightens around your cup enough to make the thin material crackle.

everyone else seems to catch the tension in the atmosphere shift from friendly pestering to something more hostile. everyone but pierre, whose lips ever so slightly twitch into a shit eating grin.

“what do you think it sounds like?”

you hold his hard stare for a long moment. ‘it’s not worth it’ you decide. you turn slightly to pour the remnants of your drink into the sink. “it sounds like it’s time for me to excuse myself.”

the boys make sounds of disapproval, some of them throwing their arms up at pierre in a silent complaint of ‘what the hell man?’, but pierre only kept his steely eyes on you, an air of indisputable satisfaction behind his expression.

you’re walking along the dirt road that’ll take you home when a set of yellow headlights illuminate your shadow. you shuffle to the side of the path, nearly standing in the shallow ditch when the vehicle slows to a stop just behind you.

“get in, princess.”

you roll your eyes when the distinct tone of pierre’s voice hits your ears. you ignore him and begin walking in the direction of your house again. a strong gust of wind wips past you. instinctively, your arms wrap around your midsection as you grumble under your breath.

pierre merely inches his truck forward, it’s muddied wheels creeping alongside you. “c’mon, get in the truck. it’s freezing.”

you grit your teeth. “i’d rather take my chances freezing then, thanks”

he chuckles and the sound nearly has you seeing red. “go the fuck home, chavanges.”

it didn’t matter how cold you were, or how nice a ride in the warm truck cab sounded. you were not so desperate to grant him the gratification of doing you a favor, no matter how minuscule.

“christ y/n,” he practically growled in nothing short of annoyance, “get in the fucking truck.”

you stop walking, a huff of warm breath dissipating into the cold air. you stand against the cold wind for a moment longer, feeling his eyes rake over you from behind. then with a resigned sigh, you wordlessly stalk to the passenger side of the truck and pull open the door.

neither of you say a word as you slip into the seat, but you can feel his eyes boring a hole in the side of your head.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you finally say.

you catch the way his tongue prods the inside of his cheek before he starts driving along the quickly darkening road.

“you’re really pissed?” he asks after a long stretch of silence.

you’re looking out the window, forehead resting against the cool glass. “you’re really an asshole?”

“come on now, don’t be like that.”

you chuckle at the audacity of this man, though it comes out more like a scoff. “i take it back. you’re a piece of shit.”

“mm, that’s not what it sounded like when you were moaning my name,” he says flatly. “though, it has been a bit so maybe my memory is getting foggy.” and the pointed look he gave you left you with no need to discern what meaning lurked under the surface.

you held your breath as you leveled his gaze. the tension in the cab was oppressive. it took a good moment for you to realize he had parked his truck in one of the pull-offs. your mouth suddenly felt dry.

“tell me, princess,” you hated how your stomach fluttered at the way he said the nickname you hated so much, “does it make you angry when i do that?”

“you’re going to have to be more specific,” you breathe out. “you do a lot of things that piss me off.” you mentally curse when you catch yourself glimpsing to his lips.

he grins. “do you hate when i call you out, give you a hard time? does it make your blood boil?” he doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he’s leaning closer, his eyes sharp as they scan your face. “and does it make you angrier knowing that the guy who gets you so riled up is the same guy you let fuck you in a field a couple weeks ago?”

you swallow, jaw clenching as you turn to look out your window again. then in a moment of stupid courage, likely fueled by the traces of alcohol still running in your veins, you ask the first question that flashed in your mind.

“is this your way of saying once wasn’t enough for you?”

“yes.”

his reply was quick and void of any hints of deception. your lips parted when his answer shocked your system, instantaneously leaving you at a loss for words.

he gauged your reaction, eyes searching yours. when you say nothing, he sighs, though it’s more blasé than irritated. “you know, you’re real annoying when you go quiet like that. for all the complaining and whining you do, i know you have something in that little head of yours you want to say.” he reaches across the console of the truck to gently grab your chin. “yes or no?”

you didn’t need any further context to know what he was asking. you chew on the inside of your lip, chin titled ever so slightly by his thumb, and nod once.

“that won’t do.” he clicks his tongue and murmurs lowly, “use your words, princess.”

you lean in close, eyes steady on his as you whisper, “you can fuck me, chavanges, but i won’t beg.”

his eyes glinted with an unsaid challenge. the thumb holding your chin brushed over your bottom lip, the featherlight touch submerging your stomach in water. “we’ll see about that.”

when he pressed his lips to yours, you swear your senses completely shut everything else out. his movements were slow, languid, as his lips moved in time with yours. his tongue gently nudged past your lips.

even now, you can tell there’s been a shift since the time in the pasture. pierre was much more deliberate and subdued.

you could feel yourself leaning more into his touch, the top half of your body nearly laying on the center console. his rough hand found your jaw and pulled you even closer with a muffled groan.

you straddled his lap in the cramped truck, your ass threatening to bump against the horn until two hands pulled your hips securely on top of his. “fuck, you’re pretty like this.” the combination of his throaty compliment and his fingers digging into your hips had your breath hitching.

eyes half lidded, you peer down at him. your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you keep your face hovering over his. “what would you do if i just up and left? just got out of this truck of yours and left you here like this.”

pierre have you a cheeky grin, unadulterated confidence gleaming in his eyes. “we both know you wouldn’t.” he leaned close so his lips tickled your ear, “i fuck you too good for you to even consider it.”

“then you better not disappoint, chavanges.”

his grin only grew, grip on your hips moving to cup your ass. “don’t you worry, princess. just let me take care of ya.”

“oh? is the prince feeling chivalrous?”

a hand on your neck has your eyes fluttering as he whispers against your warm skin, “i suggest you be nice.” then his lips were on your throat, tongue teasing the sensitive flesh while his teeth nipped little red marks across your chest.

you fingers are in his hair as he undoubtedly leaves marks that won’t fade for a couple days over your skin. you’ll be irritated tomorrow, but for now you allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of his fleeting touch.

his large hands gave your ass another squeeze, grinding you against his jean-covered, half hard cock. you always hated how your body betrayed you, the way you can feel your pussy practically soaking through your panties and onto his lap.

pierre groans underneath you, his fingers pulling your shirt over your head, his other hand unclasping your bra with a fumbling grasp that only added to the heat of the truck. his lips abandon your neck in favor of your tits. his eyes watched you as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, rolling the sensitive nub under his tongue. his palm groped at your other breast, fingers teasingly pulling at your skin as you whine.

his mouth pulls off you with a minute wet ‘pop’. he grinned up at you, eyes no doubt studying the growing blush on your cheeks. “y’know, you sound prettier like this than when you’re bitchin’.”

you tugged his hair, a warning.

he ignores it. “fuck.. i can’t wait anymore.” it’s embarrassing, how your pussy clenched around nothing at his words. your chest shone with the warmth of his spit as his breath fans across your skin. you shudder as his fingernails skim up your arm and down the front of your collarbone. “gotta feel that little pussy of yours, been too long.”

the transition to you shimmying your worn jeans down your legs was anything but graceful, but pierre didn’t seem to mind as his own hips raised to deftly push his own pants to his thighs. the windows were already beginning to fog over with a sheen of warmth. you both took a moment, chests softly heaving in unison before pierre’s hands rubbed along your ribs and waist, wordlessly soothing the nerves crawling over your skin.

he brought his face closer to yours again, his nose nudging the column of your neck before inhaling. “been thinking about this since that day.”

you’d sooner take yourself out to pasture than admit you’d been the same. you could practically feel his sick twitch beneath the thin material of his boxers, the heat emanating from his body making your mind hazy. you whine despite yourself, pussy clenching around nothing when his finger traces over the elastic band of your panties.

“pierre, don’t tease.” it’s meant to be a warning, but it comes out breathier than needier than you anticipated.

his touch becomes more assertive, borderline experimental, as his thumb dips to the front of your crotch, easily ghosting over your clit while his eyes watch you with a glimmer of piqued enthusiasm. “are you in a rush?”

his warm breath paired with the tentative touches makes your eyes flutter. “i wanna take my time with you, this time.” finally, his long fingers tug the slick material covering your heat to the side. the calloused pads of his fingers tease your wet folds. you flush with a bright heat when the only sound in the truck is the audible wet clicking coming from pierre shamelessly playing with your soaked pussy.

your head falls to pierre’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as your hips twitch to meet his hand. there’s no doubt your bottom lip is gonna be bruised with how you’re biting into it, but it does little to stop the pathetic sounds from reaching his ears.

“fuck..” his low groan sends sparks down your spine. “you’re so fucking wet, i love it…”

as if to emphasize his words, he slips two long fingers into your dripping hole. your hands clutch onto his shoulders, nails pricking through his shirt but god- you were both so pent up at this point, any humiliation only added to the desperation.

pierre’s lips pressed a wet kiss onto your shoulder. the feeling of his fingers slowly dragging in and out of your cunt doubled with the material of your soft panties catching your clit with each shift of his palm, you were made pliant in a matter of minutes.

“god… missed this,” pierre stifles a groan when you clench around his fingers embarrassingly tight, “so much.”

a hand on your throat drags your face to his and his mouth is on you before you fully register his fingers leaving your heat. you’re holding back a whine when he finally frees his dick, blushed an angry red and leaking pre, from his boxers. your eyes are fixated on his cock and it only strokes his ego.

pierre’s breath warms the shell of your ear as he whispers, “you can deny it until you’re blue in the face, but i know you’ve been thinking about how i fuck you everyday since the field.”

you drag your gaze to meet his and even in the darkness of the truck cab, you can see the hunger in his eyes.

his thumb smears the precum from his tip down his shaft as he gives his cock a pump before you lift your hips. your head falls back slightly as you sink down onto his length. you both breathe softly when you finally bottom out, and it takes everything in you not to start bouncing on his lap.

instead, you bite back a small moan and give the man beneath you a heady glare, “you better not fall for me, chavanges.”

he returns it with a toothy grin, mouth already coming to hover over yours. “i definitely won’t fall for you. i just love to hate you.”

[writingquestionsanswered]

I’ve been reading some craft books and online posts about the world building because my story is an urban fantasy set in present day US, in a fictional town, and theres not a secondary world where the fantasy happens, it’s all in the real world, except the magic is a secret that only certain people know about, but all of the resources I find about world building only talk about fantastical worlds that exist by themselves and not the kind of more subtle world building that I’d have to do. Do you have any tips?

Guide: Creating a Fictional Town in the Real World

Step 1 - Choose Your Location - There are two ways to go about choosing a location for your fictional town. One is to go the "Springfield U.S.A." route, ala The Simpsons, and be vague about the specific location (borough, parish, district, county, region, state, or province) and instead give a broader geographic region... "the East Coast," "the Pacific Northwest," "Central Canada," Northern Scotland," etc. The other option is to go ahead and put your fictional town in a specific location. Just figure out where (for example, somewhere outside of Des Moines, Iowa) and go to Google Maps, click on satellite view, then start zooming in on big empty areas. Choose a place big enough to fit a town. Yes, in reality it's probably farm fields, pasture, or someone's property, but that doesn't matter. You don't have to actually show it on a map. It's just a plausible spot to build your town. Now you can measure how far it is to other places, you know what highways to take to get to it. You can even do street view to get the lay of the land, see what the landscape looks like and try to envision the buildings there. You can also use what's there to create parks, popular recreational areas, and anything else your town needs.

Step 2 - Choose Your Inspiration - Even when you're creating a fictional town, it's still a good idea to use a real town (or two, or three) from that general area as inspiration for your town. For a fictional town in Des Moines, I would zoom in on the map to find a nearby town of similar size... like Elkhart, then I can take a look around to see what it's like. Just looking at the map, I can see they have a couple of churches, a couple baseball fields, a very small main street/downtown area with a couple shops and restaurants, a post office, a few different neighborhoods, and a cemetery. This would be a great model for a small fictional town outside of Des Moines. And, as I said, you could look at a couple other sand combine them. Once you have your inspiration town/s, you can walk around on Google Maps street view, go to the town's web site, watch a tour on YouTube (if one exists), or look up pictures in Google Image search.

Step 3 - Start Planning - This is the really fun part! First, you might want to draw a basic map of your fictional town using your inspiration town/s as a guide. This doesn't have to be a pretty map... just a basic line drawing to help you envision where everything is. Think about some of the basic things this town might have, like the ones I listed in step two, and any other things you might want your town to have, like maybe a library, a hospital, a city hall, school, and maybe a movie theater. It might even be helpful and fun to put together a collage of pictures to represent your town so you've got something in mind as you write about it. You can even choose representatives for specific locations in your story, like your MC's house, school, and their favorite hangout.

Step 4 - Naming Your Town - Start by looking at the kinds of town names that surround your town. Look for common naming conventions... suffixes like -ton, -ville, -dale, -burg, -wood, -field, etc. Words in a particular language, like a lot of French-inspired town names, or towns with geographical terms (lake, hill, valley, river, canyon, gap, etc.) My guide to Naming Locations has additional tips.

Step 5 - Populate Your Town and Give it a History - Last but not least, make up a little history for your town, again, using surrounding towns as inspiration. Who founded it? When was it founded? What's the town's main industry? What are the people like in this town? What jobs do they have? What do they do for fun?

Here are some other posts that might help:

Five Things to Help You Describe Fictional Locations Setting Your Story in an Unfamiliar Place WQA’s Guide to Internet Research Happy writing!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[bullet-prooflove]

Thrill of the Chase: Rip Wheeler x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging @kmc1989

Rip knows a horse thief when he sees one, especially when she’s riding John Dutton’s favourite mare, Starbuck. When he sees you up on the pasture astride the horse, he can’t believe the fucking audacity of it.

Most wranglers will wait until after dark, try and shuffle the horse into a truck but you, your brazen. It’s like you just climbed up on the damn thing and took it for a ride.

Rip won’t stand for it.

He’s after you in an instant, his heels digging into Marlowe’s sides as he spurs on the stallion. You see him coming, its impossible not to when you’re on top of that hill. You turn tail, run but Rip, he’s always been about the chase, he’ll dog you until the ends of the earth if you make him.

It takes him a couple of minutes to realise you’re fucking with him, when he starts to catch up you suddenly pull ahead, when he falls back too far you slow it down. It’s a game to you and it riles Rip, sends a flush of rage and adrenaline through his body.

He’s going to catch you, there’s no doubt in his mind because what you don’t know is that that horse has a stiff leg, it doesn’t go the distance. That’s why Starbuck was in that stall all alone, waiting for the vet’s assessment.

When he cuts you off, it’s by the stream that winds through the furthest meadow. His stallion darts in front of yours and Starbuck rears almost throwing you. It’s by the grace of God you remain in the saddle. You’re off the horse in an instant and so is he.

He doesn’t realise how pretty you are until you’re in his face, cussing him out, shoving him. You have quite the mouth on you too, he’s surprised God doesn’t strike you down where you stand.

He grabs you under the arms, drawing you close against his body to stop you from hurting him and that’s when it happens, that’s when he feels that spark, and that spark it starts a fire. He knows you feel it too because suddenly your fingers are gripping his shirt and instead of hitting him, you’re kissing him.

It turns into a wildfire, raw, passionate and all consuming. He doesn’t know how he ends up pants down in the grass, fucking you but being inside you, it’s like nothing else he’s ever experienced.

It’s when he tugs your braid loose that he realises just how much you like your hair being pulled, so he yanks it a little harder and you make the sweetest fucking noise as you come on his cock. It doesn’t take him long after that, a few more thrusts and he’s coming with you, his mouth covering yours, drinking down your pleasure.

He thinks he dozes off in the aftermath, the warmth of your body pressed against his in the midst of spring. He’s drowsy, sated, relaxed, the sun high in the sky above him, the scent of the earth surrounding him.

The next thing he knows he’s waking up to the sound of galloping hooves. When he raises his head, he sees you riding away on his stallion Marlowe, leaving him with a lame horse and his dick in the wind.

He slams his head back into the ground and stares up at the cloudless sky.

His curse has always been to love wild women.

He trudges back to the stables with Starbuck in tow, his jeans grass stained and fury he hasn’t felt in a long time. The others must see the darkness in his expression because they don’t question the fact it looks like he’s taken a tumble. When he puts Starbuck back in her stall, he’s surprised to find Marlowe back in his, chomping on a bundle of fresh hay.

“Hi boy,” He says softly, his palm running over the stallion’s nose. “I didn’t think I was going to see you again.”

That’s the part that hurt, the idea he wouldn’t get to see Marlowe again. The two of them have been partners in crime ever since he started at Yellowstone.

When he steps inside the main house to tell John there’s a thief in their midst he’s surprised to find you sitting pretty on the couch, sipping from a mug of tea. You’ve re-braided your hair and when you look at him, it’s as if you haven’t just fucked the shit out of each other up on the pasture.

“Rip.” John greets him as he turns in his seat. “Imogen was just telling me about Starbuck.”

“The old girl just needed a little run, she’d been cooped up in the stable too long, that’s what was causing her stiffness.” You say as you set the cup down on the coffee table in front of you. You raise to your feet, holding out your hand to take his. “I’m the new vet, my friends call me Jen.”

Love Rip? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[scaly-freaks]

cherry wine stains 8.0

playing it a little differently and rewinding back to their school years but with an Aegon POV this time.

all previous parts in pinned.

"I like your knee-high socks."

"I like the chain you wear like a crucifix."

"Strange way to describe it."

"I don't know. It just - it hangs around your neck like the absence of something."

Her words dissolve like sugar into the cup of his mind.

Clever people don't realise the riptide of their soul is not being fed until they meet another clever person. Aegon's currents slow to a whispered crawl as his eyes trace Amara's profile, creating images in the tangle of her windswept curls.

She's left a lipstick print on his mother's favourite mug. When he sees it, his soul unhooks from where he keeps it folded away, right there at the base of his neck where the silver chain fastens.

Later, he'll kiss that print, see if the measure of his mouth is enough.

Helaena told him in private: You can't! You can't, you can't, you can't! You ruin everything!

The frantic protests of a younger sister who thinks - knows - that her older brother getting involved with one of her friends is going to end up in a loss for her. He's dated one of Helaena's friends before (it ended in the kind of operatic disaster you only ever see on Eastenders).

He does not want to date Amara as much as he wants to pry her open like a game of cat's cradle and weave apart the strings that keep her mobile. Half the time, Aegon suspects she isn't truly awake. Some part of her is drowning in slumber, deep as Briar Rose. He catches that moment sometimes, as she blinks at him with those sleepy eyes.

The texture of her thoughts - when she gives them up - slips like satin over his fingers.

"Do you want a smoke?" He flips the mint-green box in his palm and grins.

Her gaze is longing. "I told my mother I'd quit. Besides, aren't menthol cigarettes banned here?"

He shrugs, slipping one between his pinched lips to hold it steady. "Nothing's banned if you squint."

"Flawed logic," she laughs.

"She said to a drug dealer."

That makes her laugh harder. He likes making her laugh. Feels worthwhile somehow. Not much in his life feels that way these days.

The younger siblings are all growing up, leaving school, moving onto greener pastures, where the chaotic drudgery of the council estate turns into a crystalline vision in the rearview, something to put into personal statements and add what rich tossers would call flavour.

They don't need him like they used to. He and his mother have raised them to become self-sufficient and now Aegon has to figure out what he wants to do with himself because where the kids are going, they won't want to admit what their brother does - has done - for a living to ensure their survival. He predicts he'll be the family embarrassment every Christmas, the uncle that shows up drunk, with a sliver of something in his eyes that suggests he could have been something once.

He knows he won't end up that way. His need to be someone, get somewhere, is far too aggressive. But he does fear no longer being needed by the people who have relied on him so long he can no longer extricate himself from the identity of protector.

Maybe it's why he likes making Amara laugh.

She doesn't have siblings. Her eyes still dart around, nervous, as if aware her protection in this world is lacking compared to that of others. Her parents won't always be around. When they are gone, there won't be siblings to divide her grief up with. It'll just be her.

If his subconscious is turning her into his new surrogate sister, it doesn't reconcile well with the instinct that stirs when her skirt rides up an inch.

Alicent's stained glass lamp flickers, bulb on the brink of permanent death. Aegon reaches over to ensure it is screwed on properly and it affords them a last burst of weak light. Amara reaches out her hand under the dappled glow of its illumination, slipping her fingers under the violets, yellows and greens, as the crook of her elbow turns rose pink.

"I've always liked your mother's taste in furniture."

"Yeah? Take it. She wants to throw it out."

"No. If she's decided it's dead, it should go. I'll just be keeping the corpse if I took it."

Aegon's eyes wrinkle at the corners, smile disguised by the inhale of the cigarette. "It's not organic material. There's no corpse."

She glances at him, as if aware of his mockery despite the affection he delivers it with. "I think some inanimate objects come alive if they are loved enough. Alicent's had this lamp since I've known her. It's lived with her, and now it'll die. We shouldn't interrupt the process."

No wonder Helaena adores her.

They are both odd creatures, his little sister, and this intense, doll-eyed mirage that turned up at their doorstep one day, hungry for oven chips and love. She reached out her cold hands to Alicent, and found herself overwhelmed with the warmth and affection given in return.

He's known her so long, she should feel like a sibling.

What does it say about him if he can't stop wondering what it must feel like to graze his lips over her stomach and tongue that bellybutton ring she got in a short-lived fit of rebellion?

Aegon flicks aside the cigarette, mouth acidic with guilt.

He isn't the kind of person who wants. Other people want. Aegon goes out and gets. There isn't enough time to submerge in the feeling of want and understand the true depth of craving the human soul can achieve.

But he sees the whorl of soft hair at the nape of her neck and the feeling crawls up the rungs of his ribcage like a creature possessed. He pictures being small enough to curl up in the soft folds of her clothing, to soak in the scent of her until he passes out from exhaustion.

That feels like enough wanting for today.

"I'll see you downstairs, yeah?"

If she looks disappointed, it's just wishful thinking on his part. She knows he's not going anywhere. He'll be in the living room with the rest of the family who've put on Shrek and are split into two groups - the half that sings along, and the half that won't.

"I'll be down in a bit."

"Cool."

A sudden gust of wind lifts her hair, and the flimsy ribbon comes loose. He catches it before it finds freedom. She turns, expectant, waiting for the inevitable return of her almost-lost property. He pulls it between his fingers, wonders if it also carries life inside the woven thread, the way she claimed his mother's lamp does.

The weight of her hair rivals Isolde's.

Irish myths were a rooted part of his childhood, laced into Alicent's quiet voice every bed time. She swears the Hightowers are mostly, if not fully, Irish. But she could never be sure of how far back, or of the intricacies of any bloodlines. Rich people have the luxury of unfurling a family tree across the polished mahogany of their dining room table. They get to find their eyes, noses and mouths in the faces of people who lived too long ago to care what has become of their DNA.

Poor people make do with maybes and perhaps because most of the time, the lives of their ancestors are of no interest to anyone but themselves. Unless a mining forefather was crushed in a collapse and the resulting riots tore down a political establishment.

So, his mother pulled them back to times so ancient, the ancestors became common for all, their bloodlines too distant to maintain individuality.

If Tristan and Isolde are in Aegon's ancestry, that past life becomes tangible when he runs his fingers through Amara's hair and tames it into a braid he's practiced on Helaena a hundred times.

"There's something mythical about your hair," he says, and then cuts himself short because he deals drugs for a living, and whatever fancy thought this was about to be would make more sense from someone more booksmart.

She cranes her neck back and gives him the brightest upside-down smile. "That's the best compliment anyone's ever given me."

Aegon bites the inner corner of his lip and nudges her to look straight so he can keep braiding.

Once her eyes are off his face, it splits into a smile. Warmth drains down his spine like gold egg yolk poured from its shell. Once the braid is done, he rests his chin on the top of her head, and passes it off as brotherly with a goldfish-squeeze of her cheeks.

He lingers, inhales deep, smells her, turns her scent into binary code that he will decipher in isolation later.

"Don't be too long. You'll catch your death out here."

[aseaofyoongi]

caught in waves | ksj

kim seokjin x reader (f)

genre: chef & bmx ksj | strangers to lovers | fluff | smut

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: after graduating culinary school you are fired from your very first job as a sous chef — so you move to a small town for the summer only to meet the very cute nephew of the restaurant and airbnb owner.

warnings: not another smut au; strangers to lovers; thoughts of self doubt; brief mention of death beginning with the line “sleeping forever would mean.” to the end of that paragraph; parental death (jin’s unnamed mother); foul language; public sex (twice - cause wtf is a bed); clitorial stimulation; vaginal fingering; tongue fucking; six nine (m./f. receiving); face riding; penetrative sex; unprotected sex, wrap it up my brothas and sistas; creampie; riding (cowgirl); brief orgasm denial if you squint; did not proof read so sorry for any errors now; that was a mouth full but i think thats it lol

word count: 13.1 thousand words

posted: june 25, 2023 at 9am

notable songs: tangerine - anthony watts and anthony russo | otro atardecer - bad bunny | summer love - crush | seaside - seb 🎧

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The bus was nearly empty. 

Just you and two strangers with two remaining stops on the lined route. From your place at the back of the vehicle life seemed to have stopped and you were sort of trapped in the legato vibrato of the RnB beats playing in your ears. But you were here alone with rows of vacant seats ahead of you — while your eyes aimed at the everlasting fields of green pasture filled with an abundance of trees. The vermilion leaves swayed to the rhythm of the wind as the cool draft swept by gently. 

And while you sat inside the muggy bus you couldn’t help but feel like those leaves who have lost their way from home. The ones who we ripped away from their branches and were on an aimless journey only to end up on the ground. All but forgotten and only to be stepped on and torn to shred in the process. 

That was you. In a stump, torn and forgotten. 

You didn’t always hold that ideal synonymous with your name but the sparse roots in the. . circumstances of life were less than perfect and while you tried to drive down the highway of your early twenties on a steady road there were just numerous obstacles hurdled in your path. Some of which affected your life greatly and derailed you from what you believed to be intended and bestowed upon you. 

Back then, you were twenty-one just fresh off culinary school with zealous ambitions and a hunger for success that gnawed at you eagerly. You had a drive ignited in you like an overbearing fire incapable of being put out. Today, that fire lacked its fuel and there were just clouds of smoke left behind while the ashes of the once burning wood were scattered around. 

Everything in your life has gone to shit. 

In just the matter of months everything has gone to absolute shit. 

You couldn’t hear much, so you weren’t alerted to the mechanical voice triggered by the yellow pull cord. You weren’t quite sure if it was due to the music blanketing your hearing or if your sense had gone completely haywire but you couldn’t hear it. Not at all. Your eyes however could see the rectangular screen displaying the ‘stop now’ bold red letters at the front of the bus and as soon as the doors opened. The doors of the bus door opened and closed and quickly the two other passengers on the bus hopped off leaving you entirely alone. This precise moment; these surroundings, took you right back to the big city and its maze-like roads. It sent you right back to the exact time when you felt like this, entirely desolate and empty in all the worst ways possible. 

You hated it. It was suffocating and you could feel the way your airways began to constrict. You didn’t like that feeling — being alone. Yet, it always crept up on you like a lingering shadow. 

It was always fucking there. 

It wasn’t always that way. Before your sporadic travels to the isolated roads adorned by thousands of skyscrapers — back at home things were different: you had a loving family, and you were wrapped up in the warm embrace of your parents and siblings. A hug so tight sometimes you could still feel their phantom body heat warming up your skin. Their touch was your medicine and with their clutch you were cradled right into a cure for wellness. 

While you craved the warm nature of their love. You couldn’t head back home. Not after descending so harshly from the disappointment of your crushed dreams. You had pierced through earth’s stratosphere and crashed your metaphorical ship right in the middle of nowhere. 

You were astray. Off-course. Adrift. 

You couldn’t head back home. 

It’s only been six months since you left home. 

Just half a year. And everything went to shit. 

Though you knew your parents weren’t usually the type to be painted with looks of disappointment — you knew that right below disappointment sat a worse expression, one you weren’t quite ready to experience just yet: commiseration. The awful and dreadful imbue of pity. 

Their youngest had failed. Miserably. You could already see their torn expressions dashed in the horrid tones of black and white, maybe even a bit of gray. It was bad enough in the flashes of your imagination. 

God, no. You couldn’t head back home. 

Instead you ran as far away from home as you could and headed towards a small town. It was nearly invisible on the map unless under the stern squinting of the eye. But you figured a scenic change would likely bring forth a change of spirits. Perhaps, being enveloped in the vibration of the soft melody coming from the crashing of the oceans waves and the aroma of the tide in this new town could become your new remedy for the soul. 

As you neared the houses toned with aquamarine, salmon pink, and citrus yellow wood sidings the bus began braking softly nearing its final stop. 

“This is the end of the road young lady,” the bus driver announced as you peeled your headphones off, placing them around your neck. 

“Yes. Sorry,” you quickly stood up, clinging your backpack onto your back and hurdling the duffel bag over your right shoulder causing one of the straps to snap. Great. You sighed, “thank you so much.” 

“No need to apologize,” he waved off as soon as you stepped off onto the asphalt, “enjoy your stay.” 

Using the navigation on your phone turned out to be much more complicated than you’d originally thought it would be. There were countless seafood shops and though the repetition of the color on the houses was initially very appealing to the eyes you quickly realized how much harder it made it to differentiate and determine your precise location. 

Okay, currently, you stopped in front of the ice cream shop. To the right there was the souvenir store, the convenience store and the flower shop, along with dozens of other stores scattered all around — all of them sat parallel  to the boardwalk right near the beach shore right across the street. 

Kim’s Aboard. You hummed looking down at the opened up map. The blue dot was highlighted. . Still. So you were at your destination according to this, except, you were not. This was way harder than navigating your way through the big city for the first time all of those months prior. Who would’ve thought small towns would be the cherry right on top of your greatest failures. Just what you needed. What the fuck. 

Sitting on the curb you felt defeated. Feeling as if life had taken control of your life while  you were the punching bag just waiting for another jab. 

“Fuck this,” you shrugged off the duffel bag, sinking your head into your lap, “fuck life. Fuck it all.” 

Minutes passed on but you remained. There. On that lonely sidewalk. Not empty but again lonely. Fuck, you didn’t care okay? You were well past the point of feeling fazed, moving through life but not living, finally succumbing to the presumed complications of your days — officially, having given up mentally and physically through and through. 

You simply did not care. Nope. 

You didn’t. . 

Then, you felt a single droplet land on your skin. From overhead the sky was being consumed by the gloomy darkness, and soon enough you knew the clouds would begin their torrential weeping. Very soon. 

Okay. Maybe you did care after all. 

“I get it,” you hissed up at the heavens, “I am damned. Doomed. Cursed. I get it.”

You probably looked mad. Well, more on the edge of insane. Whatever, it was. It likely did not look good at all. 

“Uh,” he approached you in paced steps but the squeaking of his black finishing boots gave him away. Initially, your eyes were averted to the leaden clouds, but quickly, your eyes met him as he kneeled right beside you. The simplicity of his appearance (composed of dark denim washed overalls and absolutely nothing under — but the radiance of his honeyed complexion) drew you nearer to him. “Are you doing okay, miss?” 

His voice was sweeter than the composition of ballads and while the crashing of the ocean waves against the shore constituted its very own euphonious sonnet, in the shortness of six words listening to him was already so much better — so pleasing. 

“I-uh,” surely you remember how to talk. . Right? “I was just looking for the apartment I’ll be staying at for the next few days but I’m a bit lost.” 

“Here,” he sat beside you and his shoulder brushed yours continuously. It was distracting. Very distracting, “The trick is the town is circular shaped. Sort of like a big round about. There’s one road throughout and if you follow it through, you’ll see everything you need to see.” 

You hummed, signaling you understood his breakdown in small towns for dummies, “So, are all of the stores on this main road?” 

“Most,” he said, adjusting his blue cap now having it face backwards. His toned bicep flexed slightly when he reached up, “but there are some down the road. What store are you trying to find?” 

When you turned towards him you swore there was a glimmer of light shining down on him like a spotlight — except, that was impossible. The day was now gloomy robbing the sun of its usual glimmer. But, you weren’t crazy. You’re living it, clearly experiencing the way his radiant glow nearly blinds you. 

You were clearly gawking at him. Too immersed in the perfection outlined in his features. The richness of his dark chocolate eyes seemed as sweet as a candy bar, his full lips and the apples of his cheeks carried the same elements of the carmine mimicking the vibrancy of roses. 

You cleared your throat forcing yourself to finally rip your stare away from him, “Kim’s Abroad,” you began, “seafood store and restaurant combo but also Airbnb adjacent.” 

He chuckled, again a sound so light and airy it traveled in your inner ear like the whistles of a peaceful tune, “Kim, huh?” 

You opened the Airbnb app, moving the phone over for him to get a better look, “Yeah, Kim is what it says,” you confirmed, 

“Yeah, it does,” he looked at your phone screen, “but you’re in the wrong place.” 

“I’m in the wrong town?” 

His lips were still sculpted into a smile. Was your demise an amusement to him? You were almost offended but dimples were just so mesmerizing as they impaled his bread cheeks and you found some ease in them. Momentarily. But the man sitting beside didn’t go back on his word and suddenly there was no denying the rising panic bubbling deep in your stomach. There was no question that your luck has always been absolute shit but you never imagined it could extend this far. It never occurred to you that something like this could happen. 

You laughed and you weren’t sure if you actually found the situation amusing or if it was only a coping mechanism. Who knows perhaps you misheard what he said — Yeah, you probably. . Definitely, did, “please tell me you’re fucking with me. .” 

“Yeah, I’m fucking with you,” he smirked. The curves of his stretched lips now synonymous with the equivalent of a warm embrace yet the playfulness of a jest, “I’m Seokjin. Kim Seokjin. Kim’s Abroad is my uncle’s shop.” 

“Oh,” you finally exhaled, releasing the breath you didn’t even realize you had been holding in the first place, “you got me good.” 

“Did I scare you?” He stood from the sidewalk and dusted off the bits of sand and gravel from his bottom. 

“Did you scare me?” you huffed, “you damn near killed me.” 

“Well, technically, you are in the wrong place,” he stretched his hand out for you to grab and you did. 

“Don’t even start,” you scoffed playfully. 

“But—“ he cut in, “you’re just on the wrong part of town. Come on. Before it actually starts raining.” 

“You have a car?” 

He shrugged, “something like that.” 

Seokjin did not have a car. You’d digested the grim realization when you two of you walked to the nearby parking lot and instead of approaching the valet he walked the opposite way in the direction of the bicycle rack. 

The bike chained to the rack was blue. . a sapphire which mimicked the color of the ocean waves. It also looked pretty new and like a very competent mode of transportation as everything in this town seemed just a walk or quick ride away. 

 “Hope you don’t mind but I’m not much of a car person,” he emphasized the word car highlighting the stance of his words. And you couldn’t help but wonder why it was — that he wasn’t much of a car person — but you didn’t ask, shoving the plethora of questions right back down your esophagus determining you didn’t need to know. You didn’t know him. . Besides, he was practically your landlord. 

“Of course,” you smiled, tightening the straps on your bag to get it to sit higher on your back, “should I put this here?” you slid your duffel bag off and pointed at the red wagon attached to the bike. 

“Let me help,” Seokjin was toned and built as fuck. You had not really noticed when he approached you ten minutes prior, but now? Now, he was kneeling right in front of you using a variation of ropes to secure your bag in the wooden attachment. And while you hadn’t meant to stare you couldn’t resist the urge to drink in every detail of his every move. 

It was truly like observing an artwork in some museum. . except you had to keep reminding yourself that he was real — This was real. His muscles flexed whenever he tugged on the rope to verify its tightness and his fingers worked diligently to produce an effective knot. His long long fingers. 

Your mind couldn’t help but wonder which other activities he indulged in containing those slender digits of his. 

No. 

No. 

Focus on yourself; focus on your own journey. You shook your head in an attempt to push those beguiling thoughts aside. 

“Ready?” he asked, straddling the bike and signaling you to hop on the pegs. You simply nodded hoping on, placing your palms on his broad shoulders for support. The contact felt as if his skin had been ignited with tiny strings of fire — kind of like you hovering your palms over a burner on the stove. 

It was distracting; the way the heat particles traveled past the layers of your skin warming you to the touch. 

It was so fucking distracting the way your touch felt at ease against him. 

“This is a very small town but we have a lot to offer,” Seokjin peddled down the street — already sounding mildly out of breath having to carry both your weights. 

Your eyes settled on your surroundings; the road ahead, “I can see that. We have the beach on our left and a cozy vintage town to our right. Believe me, it is all I truly need at this very moment.” 

“What are you trying to escape from reality?” 

“More like—“ as the bike moved deeper into town and against the late afternoon wind you felt a wave of relief in your sweaty scalp and forehead, “I’m trying to get away from it forever.”

He chuckled, “forever’s a long time.” 

“Forever is categorized differently for each person,” you shrugged, “my forever could end tomorrow whereas yours could run its course for an abundance of years.”

“I suppose you’re right. .” he said, “but tomorrow is also forever away.” 

“Tomorrow is forever away.” you repeated. 

Within the cold avenues of the buzzling city tomorrow would be a blink away — sparing all extra hours, minutes and seconds right into oblivion. Tomorrow would arrive in the blink of an eye and twenty four hours would perish right into nothing. However, this town seemed different. An hour here has felt like a wrinkle in time and you were comfortably tucked under that luxury of time. 

Sparing time to stop and take everything in and time to breathe. You were spared all of the time in the world to breathe. Finally. 

Back in the city your life had been sort of a blur. The foundation of your days were composed of half assed obligations. Such as getting up to the boisterous roars of the city (which you hated), getting dressed in clothes you hated all to keep up appearances (which you hated), attending classes in an attempt to perfect your culinary skills (which you hated) and then finally going to work at that fucking restaurant until the late hours of the evening (which you guessed it — you fucking hated). There was nothing to look back on and long for and certainly nothing that you missed as everything you ever dedicated a spec of your time and energy to never truly made you happy. 

There was always a vast hole in your heart. It was huge and it only ever grew in width and no efforts ever minimized its size. The pain was great and all you could ever do was endure. 

The ride so far had been quiet and you found peace in that. It gave you a bit of time to swim in your own thoughts for a bit — something you haven’t done in quite some time. Perhaps, substituting the rustling tracks of the subway and the constant beeping of car horns for the songs of the sea would do you some good. It already kind of was. 

“You doing okay up there?” he asked, continuing to peddle his way down the black paved road. 

“I’m doing okay,” you reassured him. 

“I figured you’d just been taking everything in,” he said, “you’ve been a bit quiet.”  

“Yeah, I’m definitely admiring and loving the scarcity of skyscrapers. I like the build of the ranch-style homes. It gives the curb appeal sort of like a homey feel,” your eyes remain glued to your surroundings. While Seokjin was a sight on his own this town — you were beginning to fall in love with. 

“I agree. It’s the primary reason why I’ve yet to leave,” he parked his bike on the bike rack right in front of the two-story building. The sign read, ‘Kim’s Abroad’ in big red letters engraved in a baby blue outline against the white exterior. “We have arrived.” 

“Seafood restaurant and market,” you mumbled reading the tiny black font displayed right below the vibrant sign. 

“All things seafood restaurant and market,” he repeated, getting a hold of your luggage from his wagon, “we are connoisseurs. Don’t you forget that.” 

You giggled, “Kim Seokjin the seafood connoisseur. Noted.” 

Kim’s Abroad sat on the other side of town. Just a couple of steps away from the blue waves of the ocean crashing against the golden shores. Approximately, a ten minute bike ride away from the main pier. This side of town seemed like a hidden gem, like a slice of privacy for the locals. Though the sidewalks remained occupied with on-goers, it wasn’t as congested or loud as where you began your journey earlier that afternoon. 

Up above the weather seemed to settle down as the nimbostratus clouds were being swept away by lighter; fluffier; whiter clouds highlighting the cerulean hue of the late summer afternoon. The sun also seeped through and already your skin prickled with the rising heat. 

“Let me help with that,” you reached out to grab your backpack. 

“Help?” his eyes wide with shock, “you’re our first guest to offer assistance with their own luggage. I like you.” 

“I’ll wear the stamp of approval proudly.” 

Walking into the restaurant was like entering the multiverse of culinary delicacy. The aroma of the various seafood dishes had your stomach grumbling as hunger began its loud roar. The set-up didn’t allow much space for dining in which explained the small tables and chairs lined up outside. Seokjin walked right up to the counter with a sign right above the register which read, order here. To the right of that there was a display with numerous varieties of fish, shrimp, clams, oysters, lobsters with small chalkboards identifying the prices per pound. 

The interior design of the small shop was fairly simple yet very charming. There were wall decor items hung on the white walls in the shape of different sea creatures and fishing nets drapped from the ceiling. 

Seokjin signaled you over to join him by the register, which you did. 

“Our summer neighbor has finally joined us. She’ll be staying for the summer.” he turned towards you. Quickly, you nodded confirming. 

“Hi, I’m Seokjin’s uncle, Gong. Nice to meet you,” he stretched his hand out over the counter which you quickly shook. Gong wore a tender eye smile and pearly white teeth that glimmered under the sneaky rays of the sun invading the shop. You introduced yourself hoping to reciprocate the same amiability. 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you added, “I’m really looking forward to spending the summer.” 

“We’re glad to have you give our little town a chance,” he said softly, “Seokjin, why don’t you show her where she’ll be staying. Then, you can come down and grab some food for the two of you.” 

The residential area was deeper into the property. Just a couple of feet behind, Kim’s Abroad. You’d notice there was a continuation of the color white — it was neutral. But also made the small living space seem a bit bland. Colorless walls encaged a small kitchen which led right into the living room. There were two medium sized oval windows facing the ocean. A view you knew you’d spend a lot of time admiring and never getting tired of. 

Seokjin signaled over to the wooden door separating the bedroom from the living space. The bedroom was huge compared to your dorm back in University, and it was accompanied by an on suite bathroom. 

Thank God. 

If there was something you hated while in school it was the fucking communal bathrooms. The working around schedules to avoid the crowded showers, having to do your. . . Well having to take a shit (practically in public) was less than ideal and having to share bathrooms amongst ten other girls was not the most hygienic living situation you’ve had to live through.  

After dropping your bags near the bedroom door you plopped down on the full sized bed. You closed your eyes as tiredness weighed heavy on your eyelids. 

With the fluffiness of the mattress carrying your body, you sensed the way every bone, every muscle and every inch of you became cumbersome against your better judgment.  Though you tried and tried to sit up you couldn’t. It was so fucking impossible. . As if there was a ton sitting on your abdomen preventing you from doing anything. 

You were exhausted. Numb to your surroundings and your thoughts. You had honestly forgotten Seokjin was still in the room with you — that was until you felt the mattress dip right beside you. His body heat radiated off of him in waves and the warm sensation comforted you closer to a deep slumber. 

“Are you still up to eating or are you too tired?” Seokjin mumbled. His voice, so soft and poise almost as if he was afraid to blow your tympanum. 

Your eyes still remained closed. Behind them there was an invasive darkness — much darker than the night sky but there was also peace and all you wanted to do was to succumb to that very feeling. 

It kept you high and you felt light as a feather. You had never engaged in drug usage but you imagined this is what it felt like to be intoxicated. 

“I’m hungry but I’m also so tired,” you yawned almost instinctively, “I just want to sleep forever and ever.” 

“Sleeping forever would mean. . Well, you know. .” You know what he implied and though, that’s not initially what you meant you wouldn’t mind that either. Sleeping forever was peaceful and would spare you the burden of figuring out whatever the fuck your life has turned into. Imagine falling into a deep slumber and roaming over into the afterlife peacefully; serenely. Or maybe not. There were a million thoughts etched onto your brain and while you tried to make sense of it all, you couldn’t. You didn’t mind it but there was also a tug at your heart just urging to allow yourself to see things through. 

“I just meant. .” you paused, “I just meant I’m really really tired.”

“I know. .” he stood from where he sat on the bed and your eyes met him by the door. “Are you still down to get food though?” 

“Have you heard my stomach?” His smile was contagious as you'd quickly learned as a smile was painted on your lips as soon as his lips carved into a bright beam almost as illuminating as the golden star prancing in the late afternoon sky, “I think hunger trumps sleep at this moment.” 

That was a fib. But you didn’t really feel like being left alone with your thoughts at the moment — they were loud, overwhelming and deprecating.  To be honest you’d been lonely for way too long and you hated basking in the solitude of your own company. It’s not what you wanted or what you needed. 

Perhaps, tomorrow will be kinder. 

The sun was less brutal now. 

Likely, because the sun was en route to kiss the ocean as it continued to move closer and closer towards the horizon. The blazing star still had quite a journey ahead but it no longer sat in the middle of the sky shining down with its stinging rays. 

Late afternoons were always your favorite part of the day. Back in the city the congestion of buildings on every street wouldn’t allow for this kind of life; for a scenery like this — and again you began to feel at ease in your heart. You love it. The loud cackling of the neighborhood kids, the sound of skateboards, skates and bikes against the pavement, the smells of backyard barbecues and the briny waters just ahead, which was technically your front yard for the summertime. 

Back in the metropolis you’d learn to suffer through each passing day. Falling into the safety nets of routines and hoping for a better tomorrow.  

There was never fulfillment or satisfaction, just emptiness. A profound and very overbearing emptiness that swallowed you from the inside right into a dark pit of nothingness. 

“I hope you’re not vegan or anything,” Seokjin took a seat right beside you on the ledge of the building, your legs dangling from the edge, “otherwise we’d have to head back into town for some more dining options.” 

“I’m not vegan,” you confirmed. 

“Good, cause uncle Gong made us some crab cakes. He swears they’re his specialty but it’s my recipe,” he beamed. 

“Bullshit. .” I raised my eyebrow at his claim. 

“I’m serious!” he took a bite of the fritter, “well actually it was my mom’s but she taught me how to make it.” 

Was. Past tense. Did he realize he’d refer to his mother’s existence in such a way? He must’ve. Then, that would mean she’s no longer here. . No longer in Seokjin’s life. Did she abandon him or did she pass away? There were a million questions roaming around in your head but again you didn’t dare ask. 

Though, it was hard to imagine him caged in the torment of sorrow. Sure, everyone experiences it sooner or later but it just didn’t seem like him. You’d met him just a couple hours prior and you could already tell Seokjin was a bright soul. With a tender gaze that wrapped you up like a warm blanket and a smile that could ease any burden or pain even in the absence of words.

Already, you’d felt closer to him than anyone you had crossed paths back in the despondent sidewalks of the city. 

Seokjin is a friend. He is your friend. 

“Well, her recipe is amazing,” you utter in between bites, “so thank you for passing it on to your uncle to make.”

“It was my pleasure,” he smiled. 

A brief silence fell between the two as you finished your meal but you didn’t mind the lack of words. It was just the two of you, the lullaby of the waves, and the orange and pink hues set the sky ablaze as the sun continued its journey sinking deeper into the horizon.

Life here seemed to come right out of a painting — sort of like those you would see hung on the wall of an art exhibit and be completely divulged into, finding shelter behind the intricate lines and vibrant colors. 

“Where are those kids headed?” you asked, nodding towards the kids speeding down the street in skates and skateboards. 

“There’s a skatepark down the street,” he said, “I ride my bike there all the time whenever I wanna run away from kitchen duty.” 

“Kitchen duty?” you tittered. 

“You think I’m bullshitin’ again don’t you?” 

“You said it, not me.” 

He shook his head, laughing quietly at your playful banter, “do I not seem like a chef who also happens to be into bmx?” 

“I’d have to see you partake in both of those activities to believe it,” you shrugged. 

“I’m on prep duty early morning so I’ll get back to you on the cooking thing but we can begin with the skate park tomorrow,” Seokjin offered. 

“Tomorrow it is.” 

Seokjin swung back and forth, he seemed to have something on his mind but his lips remained sealed until finally he spoke, “What about you? Do you have any hobbies?” 

“Yeah,” you picked at the blue chipped nail polish on your nails, “I went to culinary school actually. I was a sous chef back in the city but I was fired.” 

“Oh, shit,” Seokjin’s eyes were the size of pool balls, “Led me right into the lion’s den. Didn’t you? Now, I can’t cook for you. You’d put me on the chopping block.” 

“I promise I won’t,” you clasped your hands together, “Contrary to what you might believe, cooking is not my passion.” 

“Parents?” he didn’t need to elaborate, you understood perfectly. 

“Kind of. .” You moved your head from side to side, “They didn’t really influence my decision but my dad’s a chef and I thought I needed to be just like him.” 

“And you learned you didn’t?” 

“Exactly,” you nodded. 

“So what’s your true passion?” 

“Art. I’ve always wanted to illustrate books,” you turned away sensing you’d peel too much back. Perhaps, you have. Perhaps, not but no one had ever asked you that before. No one has ever shown even the slightest interest in learning what fills your heart with joy and consumes your days with a sense of accomplishment, “it was my minor in college.” 

“You should go for it.” 

“You don’t even know if I’m good..” 

“I don’t need to,” he tilted his head in your direction, he was glowing — truly the textbook definition of beauty, “I can see the way your eyes twinkle at the mere mention of it. You should do what makes you happy.” 

“What makes you happy?” 

“This place.” His words weren’t elaborate yet somehow you kind of understood exactly what he meant. 

“What makes you stay?” 

“That’s what keeps me here,” he nodded signaling out to something in front of him but you couldn’t really decipher what he was pinpointing. 

Finally, your thoughts settled, “the people?” 

“The tide,” his chestnut eyes remained on the scenery laid out in front of the two of you. Then he continued, “it’s always serene; peaceful. And even in the havoc of storms the ocean manages to sing a tune that fills me with comfort. It calms me down.” 

“The tide.” You mumbled in solidarity with his words. Because it was true. The ocean was a music box kept open and the more you sat and listened the more at ease you felt. 

As if you were meant to be here, like you belonged here, right where you were. 

Remnants of the night before flashed in your mind and you remember Seokjin’s sweet words as he communicated that the roof was your official hideout as it was closed off to the public and uncle Gong despised climbing anymore stairs than he had to — a place where only the two of you could escape to and just get to know each other for hours and hours. You really liked the sound of that. 

You yawned, rubbing sleep off of your lids and walking into the bathroom to carry out your morning routine. Soon, you moved over to the kitchen preparing yourself a quick breakfast composed of eggs and toasts. After your rooftop adventure Seokjin had accompanied you back into the main part of town to grab a few groceries at the mini super market. Thank God for that. 

Time was now nearing the late afternoon and after throwing on a pair or shorts and a crop top you were flying out the front door, down the stairs and towards Kim’s Abroad. Seokjin said he had the early shift today. It was too early in the day for customers but he was helping with prep before the restaurant opened in about 15 minutes for the lunch rush. 

“You ready?” he asked, exiting the shop through the back door and hanging his apron on a hook you couldn’t particularly see. It was astounding how fine Seokjin looked even in the simplest outfits. Like today, he wore denim shorts which cut off mid-thigh, a white tank, black converse and the same backwards blue baseball cap which he tucked his floppy bangs under to keep them away from his face. 

“Ready.” you confirmed following him to the bike rack as he began unlocking his bicycle from the metal bar. 

Again, for the third time since you two met you hopped on the pegs placing your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself from falling off the back of his bike. You looked down at his soft golden skin stretching over his massive shoulders. You hadn’t noticed the day before but Seokjin was well-built. The dark veins stretched up the dorsal side of his hand and forearm as he gripped the handlebars steering the bike down the street. His bicep flexed whenever he pressed on the hand brakes. 

It was distracting. But whenever you tried to take in your surroundings and drink in the beauty of this town you found your gaze focused on him. 

He was the swirls of black and white psychedelic lines inducing you into a state of hypnosis — demanding your attention be set on him and refusing you spare even a second thinking of anything else. 

That gravitational pull you felt drawing you closer to him despite how close in proximity he was terrifying. You barely knew him and already you felt as if you’d known him forever. 

“We’re here,” he said, pulling up to the green metal bench inside of the skate park. Hoping off, you finally peeled your eyes away from Seokjin and looked ahead to the crowded park adorned with ramps, stairs, rails, dips and countless other obstacles.

“What if. .” you began, ogling the kids successfully landing their tricks, amazed by their effortless talent, “what if they get hurt?” 

“They stand up and just try again.” Surely, it couldn’t be that simple. It must hurt. It had to hurt. Your past of disdained misfortune resulted in you landing on the floor, head first, one too many times which hurt like hell. Those were slips and stumbles nothing hard enough to cause any real damage — you really couldn’t imagine busting your ass here on this fucking concrete. 

“Standing back up must hurt so fucking bad though.” 

“It does,” he pointed out the scars adorning his upper and lower extremities — some healed, some not. 

“So you spend a lot of time with these kids huh?” you asked, simply wanting him to open up a bit more; to learn all of the details unique to him. Those details which made Seokjin who he was.

“Sometimes. When I’m not in the shop,” he shrugged, taking a seat right beside you on the bench. His thighs rubbing up against yours, “don’t go judging me for hanging around here on my down time. I’m not the only twenty year old in this skate park.” 

“I wasn’t judging.”

“Your eyes tell.” 

“Are you saying I’m easy to read?” you asked, his eyes shed their usual tone of dark brown under the sun rays now glowing closer to caramel. 

“Right now you are,” you didn’t know if you were daydreaming but his vision continued to circle your features, first back and forth between your eyes and then lower down to your lips. 

“Are you going to show me what you got or are you just going to sit here all afternoon,” your voice barely above a whisper. You were afraid your stupid mind would lead you to do something stupid. 

“Actually. .” he pulled a pair of white and purple skates from the backpack he previously carried on his back, “we’re here for you.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Why not?” 

“I know we only met approximately twenty-four hours ago but I have a confession to make,” you cleared your throat and he moved closer towards you, (As if that could even be possible. . He was practically sitting on top of you), wanting to preserve your privacy, “I’m a klutz. I’m clumsy. I am a walking liability.” 

“Now, you’re just making things up.” 

You shook your head, “I’m not making it up.” 

“If that is the case then it’s okay,” he pushed the skates closer in your direction, “I’m here to help.” 

“I just hope you have a first aid kit near.” 

Seokjin reached into his bag showing me a red pouch with a white cross on it. A wide smile plastered on his face. “I’m always ready.” 

“Of course, you are,” you grabbed the skates from his hands, “ but I’m expecting you to catch me if I fall.” 

“I will, don’t worry. I’ll always be here to catch you.” 

In the middle of your chest, where the seat of your soul beat rhythmically on its day to day course, today in that moment, after those two words were uttered from his dulcet lips there was a stutter in your palpitations and for a brief moment you felt a ping at your chest. It hurt so much — but it also reminded you that you were alive. 

Beads of sweat strolled down your temples as you tried to maneuver the roller blades strapped to your feet. Your balmy palms remained clasped against Seokjin's holding on for dear life. Your eyes were glued to the floor but you continued leaning into his guidance, determining that you would get it and you would not stop until you did. 

Seokjin was extremely patient. Even with your frequent squealing and the death grasp you maintain, he remained calm. Slowly guiding you over the small ramps and the mini cylindrical cone shaped obstacle with the flat tops. 

“You got this,” his words of encouragement dozed you with overconfidence and soon you began feeling invisible. As if you could conquer this and anything else thrown your way no matter how big or difficult. 

With his guidance and instructions you continued being led around the skatepark with your knees slightly bent, your upper body leaning towards him for balance and the slowed gliding of the eight wheels against the pavement. 

“You’re doing great,” he wore a gleeful grin.

You didn’t know if his praise was tainting your lack of better judgment but the words escaped your lips before you even realized what you said,  “can I try it by myself?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I forgot your helmet, knee and elbow pads,” he guided you towards the green bench once again, “let’s keep your first lesson simple. Just until we come back with the proper equipment. Yeah?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I think that was the adrenaline talking.” 

“I hope that means you’ve enjoyed yourself.” 

“Of course, as long as I’m invited I’ll definitely be tagging along more often,” you smiled. 

“You’re always invited.” 

Unlike the betrayal of your tremulous legs and arms while skating Seokjin maneuvered his bike with confidence. He dropped into the bowl without hesitation, then jumped. . levitating in mid air. You were stunned, it was as if he could fly — soaring in the sky like an eagle. He did it again, and again, and again and you cheered him on loudly hoping to reciprocate a fraction of the support he’d expressed as he helped you skate. 

“How did you even manage to do that. . without even breaking a sweat?” you were still stunned as the two of you walked down to the shore after leaving his bike back home after leaving the skatepark. Home. Well, temporary home. 

He shrugged, still a cocky smirk planted on his lips, “I used to practice a lot.” 

“You’ve got to teach me to do all of that.” 

“First, I gotta teach you to not fall off your skates.” 

“Right,” you smiled. 

The two of you walked right beside each other leaving no room for space in between — your hands kept brushing against one another and that friction alone radiated prickles of heat to crawl on your skin. 

“You’ll get it soon,” he leaned towards you, bumping his shoulder into yours, “you’re an amazing student. . So far.” 

“So far?” you gasped, taking fake offense at his meager ‘compliment’. 

“So far,” he nodded, “. . because you also did try to go off riding on your own after one lesson.” 

“I didn’t go off running,” you rolled your eyes, “I asked if I could. Drama queen.” 

“Because I was holding on.” 

You shook your head, “again, drama queen.” 

You and Seokjin walked on the sidewalk parallel to the shore line for quite some time now but he kept babbling about this secret spot he swore was worth it. Without a line of questions or an inch of hesitation you followed along knowing that each adventure promised contained a photo album of memories in your mind to go along with it. Still, you didn’t mind the distance and you didn’t care what the destination looked like as long as the plans involved having Seokjin presence right there with you.  

“This way,” he said, cutting down a small pathway leading towards the beach, “I don’t think your flip flops will cut it though,” 

“We’re not too far from the house. I could go back for some sneakers.” 

“There’s no need for that. We’re practically almost there. Come on,” he crouched down in front of you. Was he really insinuating you’d do what you thought he was? “Hop on.” 

Whoever said Mt. Everest was the highest peak on planet Earth was fucking lying.  Though, you have never found yourself on the mountains’ slope, already, you knew being carried on Seokjin’s back was far more exhilarating than any other journey you could embark up the Himalayas. From his back, the world seemed anew. It was brighter, clearer and scorching too. You weren’t really sure if that was because his height boosted you a bit closer to the sun or if it was because his palm rested on your bare thighs, holding you in place as he ascended down the large rocks. 

Perhaps, this is the kind of freedom he felt while riding his bike at the skatepark, quickly you began to understand why he chose that high. 

“Are you doing okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Except you weren’t. His touch was ardent against your skin and while it felt like you played too close to fire, it was also addicting. All you knew is you wanted to feel that blaze on every inch of your body consuming you into lively flames. 

“We’re almost there.” 

“Hey Seokjin, can I ask you a question?” 

“Whatever you wanna know. I’ll answer,” you wrapped your hands around his neck, resting your elbows on his shoulders. His warm breath fanned your arms causing goosebumps to etch on your skin. For a brief second he rested his head against your forearm before continuing, “but first please call me you gotta start calling me Jin.” 

“Jin,” you mumbled, “it suits you.” 

He chuckled, “you had a question?” 

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “back at the skatepark you said you used practiced a lot. . on your bike.” 

“I did.” 

“You’re still referring to it in past tense.” 

“I am.” 

“Why?” you really didn’t want to push too far but you also had a desire to ask and know. 

“BMX, the competitions,” he began, “it’s something I did in the past.” 

You furrowed your brows, “But you still do it. What I mean is you still go to the skatepark.” 

He sighed, where was something weighing on his heart. You could feel it, “Yeah, now it’s just a pastime. Something I hold onto. Just to have some sort of life line between the old me and the present version myself.” 

You and Jin were polar opposites. While he chose to dwell in the past, in the blink of an eye you ditched yours back in the city. Without hesitation you abandoned your sluggish life as a caterpillar lurking through the shadows of skyscrapers — awfully slow and urging a better brighter tomorrow. Metamorphosis indicates that after the cocooning stage the insect should blossom into a beautiful butterfly. You weren’t at that last stage yet but you hoped one day you would be. 

“What was the old you like?” 

He shrugged with sour thoughts tugging the corner of his mouth downward, “I was young. . way too young obviously and naive but I also urged for calmer waters.” 

“Did riding help out?” you asked. 

“It did. It helped quite a lot for a long time,” he mumbled, “. .until it didn’t anymore and now I guess I’m trying to make peace with it.” 

“Is there a particular reason why it ever stopped helping?” You felt his muscles tensed as his slender fingers sunk a bit deeper into your skin. It didn’t hurt but you’d hit something you were trying to avoid, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” his feet finally came in contact with the golden grains of sand but he didn’t make any effort to put you down. No, he only held on tighter, “it just drags along a string of. .” he paused, “memories.” 

“Bad. . memories?” 

“Bad memories,” he confirmed. 

The ocean sang its soulful tune just a couple of feet away as the waves continued their rhythmic crashing on the shore. It was soothing. . peaceful and it eased your nerves against his warm palms. 

“During that time. .”  he began, sighing heavy as the soles of his feet continued sinking into the sand as you trotted further down the beach, “I was wandering around aimlessly—in my head for too long. I lost someone close. Someone who I loved more than I even tolerate myself.” 

“Jin, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” there was a slight tremble in his voice, as if he was trying to get a massive knot down his esophagus, “it happened years ago.” 

“Still, time measures no grief. It must’ve been hard then and it probably still is,” unconsciously, you found yourself laying your head against the back of his neck, “but it is okay to feel, and cry and allow ourselves time to process and make our own peace. We’re only human after all.” 

“I’m still trying to make peace with it everyday but I choose to remember our positive days,” his eyes focused on the footprints he left behind on the sand, “her love, her embrace and tenderness, her charisma. . it was very easy to love her.” 

Her? Her. 

The only woman he’s ever referred to in the past tense was his mother shortly after the two of you met. You wanted to ask and express proper condolences. Not to be nosey but to be there for him and provide a shoulder for him to lean on. Make sure he’s actually okay, although he seems to be dealing with things well you still don’t want to trigger any melancholy memories. 

“The good memories will keep her alive and grounded in your heart,” your hand hovered over the center of his chest. “I’m glad you’re on the road to making peace.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“You should continue riding though,” you murmured, “Despite what happened I’ve seen you soar on your bike. It makes you happy and you should do what makes you happy.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he giggled, “I see what you’re doing.” 

You gasped, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Of course not,” he laughed. 

“I mean it though.”

“I know,” his hands roamed higher down the avenue of your thighs a bit closer to your bum but not quite. The feeling was sensational—vertiginous and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t read through all of the scenarios blooming in your head. . The ones where his touch doesn’t  just stop mid way up your thighs. No, instead he continues inching higher and higher until. . “Thank you,” 

His words pulled you out of your daydream yet you still felt the despotic heat coursing through your body. Too potent to ignore. 

Seokjin’s secret spot is breathtaking. A monument right out of a National Geographic magazine cover. The two of you lay in the small cave with an oculus skylight at the top allowing the sun to peek through when it sat high on the cerulean sky along with two archways opened right up to the roaring sea. 

The grains of the golden sand felt therapeutic and warm under your indolent frame. There was a brisk breeze cooling you down, not too cold but just cool enough to dry your previously balmy skin. 

It was a slice of heaven. . right here, right now. 

And Jin, he laid right beside you his body heat radiating in eminent waves. Finally his dark strands on full display no longer hidden under the cap the way it’s been since you met him days prior. His shirt was off displaying his sculpted physique which captivated your attention entirely. 

Seokjin’s secret spot is breathtaking but so was he. And fuck was it blinding the way he was shining brighter than the amber star overhead. He was ravishing; stunning through and through. 

“Was the trip worth it?” he asked, his dark eyes burning a hole at your side. 

“I barely made as much as a trip, you carried me the entire way here,” you scoffed, “is your back really doing okay?” 

He rolled his eyes, “for the hundredth time my back is doing just fine.” 

“So, let me ask you, was the trip worth it with me on your back the entire time?” your expression was deadpanned.

“Wrong question. .” he smirked. “Did my hands and back find comfort in carrying you the entire way? Yes.” 

His hands on you. Your mind flashed in spurs to that very moment where his warm touch birthed goosebumps on your skin. Quickly, that feeling became looped in your mind and even now, when his hands were no longer on you, you felt it—God, you felt it. 

“And the truth comes to light,” you tutted, kissing your teeth and shaking your head in disapproval, “is that all you wanted? To feel me up, Jin?” 

The apples of his cheeks were dusted in a deep roseate shade, “I mean. . it’s not all I wanted.” 

“Are you blushing, Seokjin?” you mumbled, “I thought this was a confessional. I mean you enjoyed having your hands on me the entire way here, right?” 

“Right,” The crimson shade traveled to the tips of his ears. He’s bashful; how cute. 

“Jinnie?” 

He hummed. 

“I also enjoyed it,” you said, “it’s too bad though.”  

“What is?” His eyes were doe-like, holding a luminous glimmer which projected the intricate ocean waves on them as they continued rocking right before you. 

“Your hands never really made it where I needed them.” 

He gulped, “and where was that?” 

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” your fingertips toyed with the button of your shorts. Typically, you weren’t this forward and simply let your misfortune map the adverse roads of your life but today you didn’t care to fight against yourself. You wanted him. You needed him, “of course, we can pick up where you left off and actually progress higher this time.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. 

“Are you okay with that?” 

“I’m so okay with that.” 

“Is that the only way in?” you pointed in the direction the two of you came in. 

“Boats can pull up through the archways as well,” Jin’s bottom lip was tucked under his lips and his gaze devouring you entirely. 

Of course, you began the show by slipping your hands under the fabric of your denim shorts. Your middle finger began drawing vertical lines against your clothed slit—dragging it slowly. Up and down, again and again, until the friction became useless to your zealous desire. 

“Then, we better be quick,” you breathed out. 

“I better be quick,” he emphasized moving closer to you. 

The shadows of his face were so close to yours you could draw out every little feature and decipher the hints of eucalyptus and mint from his morning shampoo. Your hands landed on his cheek, leading him closer to you; pressing your bodies to one another. 

Seokjin’s lips were warm and soft like velvet moving in a uniformed dance against yours. It was slow yet passionate as if he was trying to savor every inch of your lips—as if he wanted to be consumed by the taste of your tongue. 

The pads of his fingers left behind a trail of goosebumps as they moved lower and lower, until they came in contact with your shorts. In a swift moment he unbuttoned them and began drawing small figures onto your skin right where the hem of your panties sat. 

Between his lips and his touch you felt inebriated, as if you were mindlessly roaming around somewhere between the clouds and the sky. 

He pulled away but his forehead rested on yours. His lips still hovered over yours as his paced pants fanned his cool breath on them. 

“Can I. .?” 

“Please, Seokjin. Please touch me,” the pleads dripped from your lips semi-automatically and you had to admit there wasn’t a hint of shame to hold you back. 

There was nothing on earth more exhilarating, more enlivening than the feeling of Jin’s hands sinking under the fabric of your silk underwear. Not riding a roller coaster, not climbing the highest mountain on earth, not even winning the fucking lottery. His touch was intoxicating. . just like his kisses and there was nothing you’d rather feel. Except, probably a bit, more. 

“Faster, please,” you whined, swaying your hips against his touch as he drew circles on your aching clit. If obeying and compliance was a stern trait then it is one Jin conveyed with no push backs or arguments. 

“Tell me something doll,” his fingers traveled lower lining up against your entrance. He pressed against your cunt but never pushed past—the squelching of your wetness echoed in your ears. It was all you could hear, “did you ever think we’d be in this predicament this early on?” 

You gasped, urgently shaking your head as his fingers became wrapped in your walls moving in and out of you slowly, “I-I didn’t. But I did hope for it.” 

He sneered, “you hoped for it, huh?” 

“Dreamt of it on my first night here actually.” 

“I dreamt of it too, you know,” he whispered softly, his lips traced the shell of your ear, “the way you’d feel, your sweet sounds, the way you’d be clenching around me the exact same way you are right now.” 

His name was a mantra laced on your tongue and you uttered it once and once again as if it was muscle memory. The only thing, the only name coherent enough in your head—the only one you knew, which was probably true. You couldn’t even recall your own. 

But he had no mercy on you, his digits had no mercy on you—they just moved in and out of your slickness quicker and quicker as time progressed and you were so close, you practically stood at the edge as your orgasm approached in a massive wave. 

“Please,” you moaned, “please let me-“ 

He shook his head, “Just a bit longer, doll.” 

You hadn’t even realized your eyes were shut tight, the back of your eyelids tainted with desperation. And Jin was no longer stationed beside you, instead he kneeled in front of your bent legs spreading them farther and farther away from each other. 

The ocean still sat just a couple feet ahead, still singing that soulful song which eased your nerves the longer you laid on that very sand waiting—urging for Jin’s touch on you. 

It was all you could think of. . the way his touch burned trails of passion on your skin leaving behind a desire so potent that you just couldn’t extinguish without his help.  

He was the only one who could put it out. 

Seokjin removed both your shorts and panties leaving them pooled at your ankles. His austere gaze remained on your cunt and he seemed to be drinking in every detail of your blossomed rose. 

“Beautiful,” he mumbled, almost inaudibly.  

“Jin,” your eyes, your voice both dripped with desperation. 

He nodded understanding your unspoken command almost instantly inching closer and closer between your thighs until his face sat just a couple inches away. His tongue was frigid against your slit it weaved a bolt of electricity intertwined along the ridges of your spine. A gasp escaped your lips as he perfected the combination of sucking and licking your sensitive bud before dragging his flattened tongue along your folds. 

A delectable repetition. One, more saccharine than any dessert you’d had the burden of making back during your days in the kitchen. 

This was better. It was so much fucking better. 

Seokjin’s slurp noises against you, your sweet incoherent sounds and the cries of the ocean were one in the same. All of them were the end product of an orchestrated ballad. 

“Jinnie,” your nails massaged his scalp before gripping his face, pushing him closer to you. God, you needed him closer. So much fucking closer. 

“Yes, doll?” His words almost muffled an evident refusal to stop what he was doing. 

“Can I h-help you out?” 

“With?” he continued. 

“Even from up here I can see how tight your shorts have become,” you hissed, “I want you in my mouth while you eat me out.” 

Seokjin pulled away. Your juices coated his chin and mouth, “That’s fine baby, but I want you sitting on my face.” 

Jin took your spot sprawled out on the sand. You climbed on top of him, placing your knees on either side of his face claiming your seat on his features. His hands snaked around your thighs, pulling you down, positioning your soaked cunt to be aligned with his mouth. Meanwhile, you leaned forwards helping him pull down and finally kick off his briefs. 

Seokjin was big. Bigger than you’d imagined. 

Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock as you took his tip past your lips, finally getting a taste of his pre-cum. At the same time you felt him take a swipe on your fold before his eloquent tongue dug inside you diligently licking your walls, ridding them off your juices. 

The iteration of a sinful melody. Building up tension in the pit of your stomach while your back arched and your toes curled. 

Though, you tried to focus on the way his cock moved in and out of your mouth—his deathly grasp on your thighs and his tongue. . It was all too distracting. 

“Fuck, Jin,” you keen too dazed in pleasure to fully grasp the way you tugged on his hair keeping his head in place as you began to grind on his face, finally succumbing to the urgency of reaching your approaching peak. 

He hummed under you, leading your unoccupied hand down to his cock and guiding it up and down his shaft. This went on for some time. Felt like forever and then finally he came in warm spurts coating your hand. And that very image drove you to your climax as he licked you dry. 

Carefully, you climbed off his face and laid right beside him, his chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. 

Your name sounded like peaches in his strained voice, “you. . that was amazing.”  

“You’re amazing,” you giggled, “but once again you did all the work.” 

“I don’t mind doing all the work,” he leaned over leaving peppered kisses on your cheek. 

“You say that to all the girls who occupy the Airbnb?” 

“Nope,” he emphasized the p, “just you.” 

“I find that hard to believe. Just look at you.” 

“You think my charms and good looks are hard to resist?” he beamed. 

“That and the third leg in between your thighs.” 

He laughed. “Well, believe it. You’re the only girl I’ve done. . anything with for years.” 

Your heart beat rhythmically in your chest at the utterance of his confession. His words didn’t mean much at all but you couldn’t help the fluffers in your head and the way your stomach felt so giddy you thought you’d vomit. 

It felt foreign but you welcomed it nevertheless. You liked that feeling. 

“You wanna go swimming?” you asked. 

“Skinny dipping?” he quirked a brow. 

“You’re not worried about someone coming?” 

“If someone’s come in for the past like fifteen minutes they saw me neck deep in your pussy,” he stood up taking off his shirt and leaving his shorts behind before running towards the aquamarine waves, “I don’t really think it matters anymore.”

“If?” you asked following behind him. 

The day before yesterday was a dream. 

A dream, no a wet dream. Composed of your fervent fantasies. And you? You lived in that cave and you probably would for the rest of your time here. Dwelling on his warm touch on your skin—goosebumps rose on every inch of your body causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand straight. 

Your fingers followed the trails he’d mapped on your body, paved so intricately, they were so easy to follow and all roads led to the same exact place. 

You were so wet, but you probably had been ever since that day. Was that normal? You didn’t care, you just wanted him to touch you again. 

There was a knock on the door waking you right out of your daydreams. Grabbing your robe you wrapped it around your figure before heading towards the door. 

“Hey,” you opened the door standing aside allowing him to come in. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been MIA since yesterday,” he kissed your cheek—you guys weren’t nearly official but it kind of felt like you were. . or you hoped so anyway, “Uncle Gong has been on edge lately. There’s another seafood restaurant opening up on the pier. It's got him going crazy.” 

“Crazy prep hours?” 

He sighed before slouching down on the couch, “crazy prep hours,” he confirmed. 

“You must be so tired,” you cooed, “do you want anything to eat? I can make you something.” 

“I’m okay, besides food is not exactly what I’m craving.” 

“Hm,” you straddled his lap. “Then, what is?”

“I should’ve kissed you after I ate you out yesterday,” his hands slid under your robe kneading your upper thighs, “you would’ve gotten a chance to see how addicting you taste.” 

His phone began buzzing, it was Uncle Gong. Jin sighed before pressing the accept button and in a matter of seconds you heard the older man’s voice in a frantic banter. 

You were one hundred percent sure it wasn’t Uncle Gong’s intention to cockblock but you just wanted Seokjin to stay and fuck you into the mattress. 

You were still dripping just thinking about it. However, by the look on his face you were certain he had other news—ones which hindered your fantasies of early morning sex. 

“I gotta go.” 

“Do you have to?” you whined. 

“I don’t want to,” he leaned over, leaving a kiss on your lips. It was brief and your body screamed for more but you didn’t vocalize it. Instead you sat in silence as he continued to carry out a mental battle attempting to find a victo. He had to go, you knew that much. You also knew he wanted to stay. You wanted him to as well but he couldn’t. 

He stood from the couch but before he could make his way towards the front door Jin turned back around, kneeling right before you. His hand reached up cupping your face as he leaned closer until his silken lips landed back on yours. However, this wasn’t just another peck. 

This kiss. 

It swept you under the currents of the bestial sea and you sank deeper towards the ocean floor but you weren’t scared. In the void, under the darkness of the tide Jin was a beacon of light—guiding you towards an eternity where his lips kept moving on yours the way they were right now. 

This fucking kiss. 

Is your beginning but also your end. 

It took your last breath but also made you feel alive. 

You didn’t want it to end. . but it did, “meet me at the restaurant tomorrow tonight. Uncle Gong is letting me prepare something for you. Took a lot of convincing but I had him come around.” 

“I’ll be there.” 

“Seven o��clock.” 

“Just twenty four hours.” 

He smiled before closing the door behind him. 

Back in the city dating was rather difficult. 

Not only were you a workaholic, you also avoided any kind of social events and situations outside of the restaurant. 

Here, things were a bit different. You came here for a chance at self reflection, to work on yourself and find the real you but instead your path became intertwined with Seokjin and while you didn’t mind you also couldn’t help but reprimand your heart whenever it skipped a beat at the sight of him. 

Sort of like it was doing right now, Jin was in the kitchen of Kim’s Abroad and you sat at the small table set-up for a candlelit dinner for two. 

The gears in the rules of the universe shifted Noone ever went through this kind of trouble—to plan something this nice after they’d already had their fun with you. Especially if things would have taken their  course as easily as they did with him. 

Well, except, maybe Seokjin. 

Cute. 

“Tonight’s special,” he set both of your plates on the table revealing a cut of grilled salmon garnished with lemon wedges, and accompanied by coconut rice and roasted potatoes, “I hope you like it. . but please do lie if you hate it. I’m sensitive.” 

You laughed, mounting your spoon with the perfect bite of all the foods he’d prepared combined before taking it in your mouth, your taste buds danced in delight, “Seokjin, this is heavenly. It is truly amazing.” 

“Is that the honest truth or are you just looking to spare my feelings?” 

“I would never lie,” you swallowed before continuing, “This is all absolutely delicious.” 

“Better than Uncle Gong’s crab cakes?” 

“I thought that was your recipe?” 

“It is,” he shrugged, “but he thinks he makes them better than me.” 

“I don’t know, I think he wins this war,” you joked, “those crab cakes were killer.” 

“Traiter,” he scoffed.

Dinner was exquisite but small talk was left to a minimum when you both realized Uncle Gong’s restaurant curfew was quickly approaching. After cleaning up and closing up you and Seokjin headed towards the roof, unwilling to give up the night and let it cease. 

The street lights lit up the street corners and while there were people roaming around here and there—it was nothing compared to the congested afternoons. 

But you liked this. 

The feeling of you and Seokjin being the only people left behind in the world, the songs of the waves still playing in the background and the stars gleaming overhead. 

“Has this always been your secret spot?” you asked, laying beside him on the navy blue duvet. 

“Yes,” his eyes glowed under the light of the moon, again they looked lighter than you’d remembered, “I practically lived up here like three summers ago.” 

“An escape?” you asked, not really needing to emphasize. 

He nodded, “after mom passed the house choked me with her lingering presence, her scent, her love. I wanted her back. To spend just one more day with her and make sure she knew how much I loved her and how much I would miss her but that’s just not how life worked and she was no longer there.” 

“I’m so sorry,” you snuggled closer into him, laying your head on your chest—his heartbeat thumped against your ear, “I can’t even imagine how hard that time must have been.” 

“It was,” he laid his head on yours, “It was harder than hard if that even makes sense. I shut a lot of things out and no longer found comfort in the things I loved. .” he paused. 

“Like riding?” 

“Yeah,” he sighed, there was a slight tremble in his voice, “it’s just mom wasn’t there to cheer me on anymore. Looking out at the stands was depressing because her usual seat was empty. Sadness overshadowed everything on the track, she was all I could think of.” 

You didn’t say anything, just allowed him to carry on without interruptions. He continued, “Uncle Gong tagged along whenever he didn’t have to manage the restaurant but it just wasn’t the same, you know?” 

You hummed letting him know you still listened attentively. 

“Wounds heal over time though and while this one tears a bit every time I think of her, I know she’s up there watching over me,” he said. 

“She is, she’s always been watching over you and she always will be.”

“I know,” he simpered, leaving a soft peck on your forehead. “What about you? Are you missing your life back in the city yet?” 

“Not a chance.” 

“What is this vendetta you hold against the city?” 

“The city is such a hypocrite. I never understood how so many souls could live in the same place and yet one person could still manage to feel so lonely,” you exhaled rather loudly, “life. . things were supposed to be different, you know?” 

“Different isn’t always bad.” 

“I suppose not.” 

“It’s not,” a slight smile sat on his lips. A brief silence fell between you two and then he asked the question you’d avoided giving any thought to since setting foot in town, “do your parents know you’re here?” 

“Not. . really?” 

“That sounded like a question.” 

“It kind of is.” 

A slight smile was displayed on his lips, “Are you here hiding from them?” 

“Kind of. .” you cackled, “it’s not really hiding if they don’t know I’m here to begin with right?” 

“So they don’t know you left the city?” 

“They know—I’m not in the city and taking a small break but they don’t know exactly where,” you say mushing all the words into one long word, not really wanting to decipher what you were saying, “they also don’t know I was fired. I think that’ll break their heart too much.” 

“Are you planning to tell them anytime soon?” 

“I was going to tell them. . once I make it back to the city and find a new job.” 

“Oh..okay.” 

His embrace grew tighter, he held you closer and you could feel his warmth wracking your nerves. It was like he didn’t want to let go.. not now. Not ever. And you didn’t want him to either, “but I’m not sure if that truly is the reality of what I want,” you sighed, “I was miserable in the city, the life I lived there was rigid. Besides, cooking is not what I intend to do for the rest of my life. I just. . I don’t know what to do.” 

“All of the roads leading to our destiny are paved the way they are for a reason,” Jin offered, “they mold us and guide us to the exact spot where we are supposed to be.”  

“You’re right.” 

“Also call your parents. You deserve to pursue what you want but they should also know,” he said. “Plus, I bet they’re worried sick.” 

“Again. . you’re right.” a low sough escaped your lips mimicking the swift draft blowing by in the late night. 

”I know I am,” he said smugly, “what would you even do without me?”

“You’re a cocky motherfucker you know.” 

“If by cocky motherfucker you mean multi-talented handsome Jin. Then, yes I do agree with that.” 

“Not what I meant,” you mumbled. 

“You know, you weren’t talking all this shit when we were in that cave a couple days ago.” 

“Yeah, I think that’s because my mouth was kind of a little busy.” 

“Right,” Jin drew in a deep breath, his fingers toyed with the straps of your dress, “you know I think we left something unfinished back in your apartment a couple of days ago.” 

“Yeah, it’s too bad that you had to go,” you turned around now lying on your side facing away from him, “because I wanted—I needed you to stay so bad.” 

“Needed, huh?” he asked, pressing closer against your back side. Lingers of sandalwood and citrus invaded your nostrils. An aromatic scent so rich and so addicting all you craved was to bury your nose to the base of his neck and grow faded off his fragrance. 

You closed your eyes, ensnared in the trance of his soft pants as he began grinding his crotch against your ass at an agonizing pace. 

His clothed dick marked you before you even had the chance to feel him inside you.

 It was torture. 

“Jin,” you moaned. 

“What’s wrong, doll?” he replied in a derisive tone while clicking his tongue. His hands reached lower and lower until they landed on your inner thighs, “am I close to where you want me?” 

You nodded frantically, “Higher.” 

His fingers delineated the goosebumps forming on your skin as he dawdled his journey to your soaked cunt. 

“Higher, Seokjin. Please,” your voice tainted with desire and desperation. 

“Tell me, is this where you want me?” His digits traced your folds spreading your wetness en route. Your dress now hiked up to your waist as Jin began rubbing small circles on your clit. Then, slowly he repeated, “Is this where you wanted me?” 

“Hm.” 

“You were anticipating this weren’t you?” Jin whispered, causing downpours of chills to trickle down your back, “is that why you wore no underwear?” 

His fingers continued working in-between your folds, “Uh, fuck yes!” You screamed out. 

There were approximately billions of stars in the Milky Way galaxy, a lot of which you were looking up to at that very moment. And yet as you laid there under the incantation of Seokjin’s finger you witnessed the birth of many stars flickering into life. 

Your chest heaved as you settled down from yet another astounding high. 

“Doll,” Seokjin swiped his fingers coated with your juices onto your lips, as if he was applying lip gloss on you. You opened your mouth taking his digits in licking them clean. “Holy fuck, you will be the death of me.” 

“Jin?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I need you.” 

He laid flat on his back patting his lap, “come on, baby girl.” 

You straddled him, your wet pulsating cunt rubbing against his clothed erection. There was a painful hunger rooting in between your legs—craving nothing but to have him buried deep in you. 

“Take it out,” he instructed. You unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down along with his briefs just enough for his erection to spring free. 

Slowly, you began sinking down on his cock. Your mouth agape at the overwhelming feeling of him filling you up while your hands landed on his chest for balance. Once accustomed to his size you began to move up and down on his length as he disappeared deeper and deeper inside of you. 

Seokjin was full of pleasant surprises; his fingers, his mouth, his tongue so it was really no surprise his dick was equally as blessed. 

“Seokjin,” you whimpered. 

“Oh doll,” his hands gripped your waist, fingers digging into your skin likely to leave marks behind—guiding you to move at a quicker pace.  “Fuck!” 

“God, you feel so good.” 

The composition of your bodies moving against each other molded into the perfect whole. You were two, but while he fucked into you the way he was you felt as if he belonged inside your walls and you never ever wanted to feel empty again.  

“Doll, I’m so close,” his rough and raspy voice was a bass tune in your ears, “so fucking close.” 

“I want you to cum in me. Please, Jin,” you continued riding him, your skin slapping on his continuing your journey on his cock sliding up and down over and over until your walls began to clench around him. 

It wasn’t long before the two of you reached your peak and you collapsed on top of him, out of breath and too tired to do anything that required moving in any way. 

“Now tell me, is there any chance you’d stay even after the summer’s over.” 

“I’ve been thinking about it,” his skin was scolding even over the layer of his t-shirt, his chest and forehead glistening by a thin layer of sweat, “a lot actually.” 

“And what was the conclusion?” 

“I like it here,” you kissed his cheek, “I think I’ll be staying. . For now. Take some time to myself and explore things.” 

“I like it when you’re here.” 

“That reminds me,” you reached for your purse, “ I have a surprise for you.” 

You pulled out a piece of paper and handed it over to him. His eyes scanned the sketch, “Is this us?” 

“It’s us. . in the cave,” you giggled, “I tried to capture every moment.” 

“I especially like the one with my head between your legs,” a rosey shade painted his cheeks. 

“Had to portray my favorite moment from that day.” 

“We can always recreate it. To liven the memory, you know.” 

“Right now?” 

“Right now,” he disappeared lower in between your thighs, his head hiding under the fabric of your dress. 

Kind days were definitely in forecast especially if you had Seokjin right there by your side. 

-

-

-

an: holy fuck this was a blast to write. as always if the smut is intolerable pls look away (although, that may be hard cause there are multiple smut scenes so. . uh, yeah).

for the seokjinnies who miss seokjin very dearly .

[ghosties--writing]

Farmer! 141 members + konig, alejandro, and rudy x reader (What they farm)

Cw: Fluff

After I posted about farmer! Call of Duty characters, I started thinking about what type of farmer they are. Meaning if I think they are a crop farmer, livestock farmer, rancher, dairy farmer, family farmer, industrial farmer, kitchen gardener, organic farmer, regenerative farmer, or an urban farmer. Also keep in mind that I imagine them being farmers around 1776 so it's not modern time.

First off just so you know what each farmer does here's a list:

Crop farmers- They grow crops such as grains, fruits, vegetables, and cotton.

Livestock farmers- They raise animals such as cows, pigs, chickens, and sheep.

Ranchers- They primarily raise livestock, often on a large, open range or pasture.

Dairy farmers- The specialize in producing milk and other dairy products such as cheese, yogurt, and ice cream.

Family farmers- They own and operate farms as sole proprietorships, partnerships, or family businesses.

Industrial farmers- They use large-scale, mechanized, and intensive methods to produce crops and livestock.

Kitchen gardeners- They grow vegetables, herbs, and fruits for their own consumption or scale.

Organic farmers- They use natural and sustainable practices to grow crops and livestock without synthetic chemicals or genetically modified organisms.

Regenerative farms- They use practices that enhance soil health, biodiversity, and ecosystem services to grow crops and livestock.

Urban farms- They grow food in urban areas, using spaces such as rooftops, balconies, backyard, or community gardens.

Ok, back to what I was talking about:

Price- I feel like he would be an industrial and dairy farmer. He would have farm hands since he's getting older and he need help around the farm but that doesn't stop him from going out into the feild to do what he can. At the end of the day after all of the men finish their duties and after they bring you all of the eggs, milk, even meat that was slaughtered that day for you to make them a meal. They would bring you everything and then sit either inside the house relaxing or out on the porch talking with eachother smoking while you cook. If they are inside in the living room relaxing you would have to tell them all multiple times to take their boots off of the rug or off of your blankets, even going as far as to threaten them with no food as John sits their and laughs.

Ghost- Rancher. That's all I'm going to say he seems like a rancher. He seems like he would enjoy being on a huge farm with his little wife surrounded by nothing but feilds. If you want to go to the market it takes almost all day to get there and back so you better plan a day to go because you know he's not letting you go alone. He also seems like he wouldn't have many farm hands just because he doesn't want to put you in danger. What if one of the farm hands disobey his duties on the farm and head over to the main house you are in and gets handsy with you while he's not there to protect you? He would feel horrible. But he caves in and let's maybe 2 or 3 farm hands work under him after you told him that he shouldn't have to do all the jobs on the farm since he came in every night complaining that his body ached.

Gaz- He seems like a family farmer and a rancher. Maybe he lived on the farm all of his life and once his father passed away he had control of the farm and inherited the house. Once he met you he felt like his life was complete, he had a pretty wife beside him who kept the house smelling like sweet baked goods. He has quite a few farm hands solely so he could spend time with you in the early morning and so he could come in early and spend time with you before the other men came in looking for a big warm meal to fill their empty stomachs. I see Kyle living more closer to town so he's not secluded like Ghost but it does take a bit of time heading to and from the market in town. He also trys to come with you every time you go into town or he sends a trusted farm hand with you.

Soap- You can not tell me that soap is not a dairy and livestock farmer. He absolutely lives in the Highlands of Scotland with a bunch of cows, both regular dairy cows and the fluffy highland cows. He does own other animals but he prides himself of how well his cows are taken care of, he keeps a good eye on all of his cows to make sure none of them get sick or hurt. I also believe that he does trim his cows feet himself but since he has so many cows and other animals he has farm hands to help out with the hoof trimming and other things like that. Since he is in the highlands almost everything would need to be made by hand since the markets are far away so he also has a lot of sheep so his sweet wife can make all of them (herself included) warm clothes for the winter. The only thing she really needed from the market was fabric and other things that weren't as easily obtained at her farm but good ol' Johnny would make sure she had water she needed. And he would take you with him so you have a say on the fabrics you get and whatever "unnecessary" items you needed.

König- I see him just as a industrial farmer. He obviously lives in Austria and he owns a pretty large farm and just like Ghost it takes a while to get to and from the market in town so you have to choose a day so you and König can go with eachother. Maybe you both go together because half of the time he needs something from the market too so he takes you with him so you can get what you need. He also has a lot of farm hands, but he need it because he can't take care of a large farm that is mass producing to feed the town all by himself, he needs a little help. But you make sure that all of the men have clean linens to sleep on and clean clothes to wear and you make sure that they have big warm meals to fill their stomachs at the beginning and end of the day. You also go into the feild every once in a while to suprise them with warm freshly baked sweets that you had just made which they always seem thankful for. König makes sure you have everything you need to make yourself, him and the other mens clothes or the farm hands bring you their clothes to men after the accidently rip it on a nail, just for them to find it perfectly mended and folded on their bed when they get to their rooms.

Graves- This American man is most definitely a rancher have you heard his southern accent. Anyways, he lives on a decent sized farm with a couple of farm hands and he's pretty close to town but not close enough where you could walk there. He always insists that he goes with you to the market and he always insists you buy something even though you both know you don't need it. You're always in the house cooking and baking so when your husband comes in with his farm hands they have warm fresh food and treats to feast on after a hard day's work. Graves always makes sure that you are happy and safe, if he ever finds out that something is bothering you he will find out something is bothering you he will sit you down and talk with you until he gets to the bottom of it. But he's nice about it, he doesn't want to make you sad, he just wants to keep you happy.

Alejandro- He's most definitely a crop farmer. He lives in Mexico in a semi secluded area with a pretty big farm that mostly only grows crops and there are only a few animals. You have a pet dog that stays with you in the house, Alejandro claims that it is to protect you while he is out in the feild. It takes a while to get into town but if you ever need to go into town Alejandro is right there with you, anytime you need to go. As long as it is not to late in the day or in the middle of the night, he will go with you whenever. He has farm hands that get up and work early so he doesn't have to leave your side in the morning. He loves any food you make and will drop everything if he hears that you have made food. Him and his farm hands always try to finish with all their chores on the farm as if it was a race between them because they want to be the first one to eat the food you make.

Rudy- I see him as the type of man to be a livestock farmer. He most definitely has a bunch of animals but his favorite animal is horses. He love you so much and would hate if something happened to you. Again like all the men on this list he wants to keep you happy and healthy. You do some things on the farm like gathering the eggs, but you don't do much than that. You mostly stay home washing and making clothes or cooking/baking. Occasionally you do go over to your friends house to keep eachother company or she comes over to you. If you do go over to your friends house either Rudy or one of his farm hands will come with you to make sure you stay safe. The market isn't far from home but again it takes a while to get there and almost all the time when Rudy accompanies you he manages to sniff out Alejandro. So you stay at the market much longer than you intended because they will talk for hours catching up with eachother. At the end of them chatting he invites Alejandro and his wife over to have dinner with the 2 of you. So you have to make even more food for dinner but don't worry because you are at the market so you can buy extra food for dinner.

Keegan- He doesn't own a huge farm like the others, instead he owns a decent sized house but he only really has a enough room on his land for a decent sized qarden. He grows fruits and vegetables but only enough for the 2 of you. He doesn't have any farm hands and he works as a blacksmith and a silversmith while you stay home and you tend to the garden. Since he doesn't really own a farm you both are really close to the market so if you really wanted to you could walk to the market. He does insist he comes with you whenever you go to the market to make sure that no random man trys to start anything with his pretty wife. You both also have a pet cat and dog, the cat is yours and the dog is his. The cat is a orange tabby cat and the dog is a spaniel. You stay home making different foods for the 2 of you to enjoy when he gets home along with taking care of some other things around the house that need to be done. (He definitely hand made your wedding ring since he is a blacksmith and a silversmith)

Roach- He is an industrial farmer. He does have many farm hands to help out with his farm and he also likes to invite Ghost and John over to his farm just so he can hang out and chat with them. He also will take you with him and travel over to one of there farms to hang out and you also get to chat with their wives and gossip about your husbands, as all women do. Again he loves your cooking and doesn't know what he would do if he ever had to make a meal for himself and his farm hands, you are the life line of the farm (other than the farm itself). Most of the time you make your own dresses but you and Roach do go into the market for the fabric because it's not something you can get from home, and while you are out you also pick up fabric for him so you can make him some clothes. Occasionally Roach works as a blacksmith but only really for making horse shoes for his horses. So whenever he's out making horse shoes almost all day you always bring him a snack like a couple of cookies to him as he works.

Masterlist

Please give me more to write about them, I am literally obsessed with the idea of Farmer! CoD characters.

Feed back is welcomed.

I do not condone my work being published on any platform or to be translated in any way.

Reblogs welcome.

[ghouljams]

I just saw a tiktok where the caption was “pov: your situationship just kissed you in the forehead, said ‘I left you a backstrap in the fridge’, and left for work” and the videos is of the woman checking her fridge, seeing a piece of meat, and then looking like she’s reconsidering her whole life. My city slicker suburbs ass didn’t know this but apparently backstrap is the equivalent of beef tenderloin for hunters, each deer/elk has like 1-2 pieces so giving someone a backstrap is downright a marriage proposal.

I have no idea where this would fit into Ghost and Goose's relationship (definitely before they get together officially), or even if it would be (would Ghost hunt?) but all I can think about is Goose staring at the meat on the countertop when Duck walks in and is like "what's wrong?" and Goose just points to the backstrap and goes "Ghost gave me this." And now both of them are staring wordlessly at it when Price comes in and goes "what are you two gawking at?" and they both point at it and say in unison "Ghost left this." and now the whole family is staring at this declaration of undying love on the kitchen counter.

God the backstrap, I've seen that tiktok and that's the most beautiful cut of meat I've ever seen in someone's fridge.

I know I just made a post about Ghost being an animal guy and not hunting like a normal person, but I also think hunting is something he would take a lot of pride in. He likes the survivalist element, but he also likes the feeling of being a provider in a very primitive way. He went out and got food, killed it and butchered it himself, just for his little family. Anyway *throws fic at you*

"Left you somethin' in the fridge," Ghost tells you on his way out for the day. You give him a look of quiet confusion and he tips his hat a little lower over his eyes, not looking at you.

"It's not another frog is it?" You grimace, thinking of the last time you went gigging.

"One frog, one time," He grumbles, not bothering to answer you as he walks towards the stables. You sigh and go to clean up whatever mess he'd left. You wish he'd stop leaving things in the main house's fridge, if he wants to put live animals somewhere he should put them in his own damn house. You shiver remembering the frog you thought was dead leaping at you as soon as you'd opened the fridge door. You're not squeamish with cold blooded critters but that would scare the pants off anyone.

You brace yourself as you tug the communal fridge open. Nothing jumps at you, which is a good sign. You crouch down to sort through the contents for whatever Simon left and freeze. Sitting right in front on the top shelf, neatly covered with cling wrap, and a post it with a hastily scribbled out heart, is the most beautiful cut of meat you've ever seen. Brilliantly red and marbled. You tug it out to inspect, push your finger against the plastic film to check that it's actually meat. There's no fat, and the cut is a lovely sort of tenderloin. Where did Simon...

He went hunting recently. You remember the deer in the back of the truck, the marrow filled bone he'd tossed the dog. Jesus fucking Christ, you know exactly what this is. You quickly stuff it back in the fridge and slam the door to go get your mom.

You both stand in front of the open fridge as she inspects the meat. She stiffens, apparently coming to the same conclusion you did and forces the plate back into your hands.

"What is this boy doin' givin' you the best cuts off his venison?" She asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Momma, I swear to you I don't know," You carefully settle the backstrap back in the fridge. If your brain wasn't so stuck on the fact that Simon is the one who gave it to you, you might be cooking up recipes already.

"Where's your daddy, he needs to see this." She looks out the kitchen window, surveying the pasture for your father's horse. The last thing you need is her calling him in to see Simon's... declaration.

"No momma," You pull her back, "Momma please, you're gonna scare him off."

"I'm not scarin' anyone off, he's-" She gives you a look, her smile scrunched to one side and her brows drawn in confusion, "Baby, you think I'm gonna scare off the man giving you prime cuts from his hunt? Please-" She waves your concern off and you groan. It's not like he's proposing, you doubt Simon even- He probably doesn't even know he's giving you something the butcher won't even sell.

Actually how did he wrestle this away from the butcher? Usually the guy in town will pay through the nose for good venison. You've never seen a cut this clean from the usual guy though.

At least Simon has the good sense not to look startled that you're in his house at the end of the day. There is a sort of silent confusion around your cooking in his tiny kitchen, but he's nice enough to stay quiet as he goes to shower off the day's dirt. When he comes back he's smart enough to take a seat at the little round table, but just stupid enough to ask, "What's this?" When you set a plate in front of him.

"Backstrap," You glare at him, "with some veggies and potatoes. Why? What is it to you?"

Simon glances up at you, waiting for you to elaborate on this line of questioning. You know he doesn't like these games. You sigh and drop down into the seat across from him, he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.

"Why're you giving me the best cut?" You ask, trying not to sound like you're expecting anything.

"What'm I suppose to do with it?" He responds.

"Didn't the butcher offer to buy it off of ya?"

"Didn't go to the butcher," He tells you evenly. You stare at him. This fucking- God you could wring his neck. He killed a deer, went through the trouble of butchering it himself, and he still gave you the best cut. All the work just to- to-

You press your hands against your face with a groan.

"Ghost."

"Princess." His low rumble makes you shiver, how pleased he sounds to have caught you off guard...

"You know my momma thinks we're gonna get married now," You tell him through your fingers. He hums, and you hear the click of his silverware as he starts eating. Done with the conversation apparently. You truly hate how much you love this man. He's going to be the death of you.

God but what a way to go.

[yandere-daydreams]

Feel free to ignore this! I'm just v sleep deprived and having brain rot inspired by some things I saw in ur writing and thought it may be up ur alley. Also this brainrot thingy is mainly aimed at readers who have the ability to get pregnant so if that don't sit right with you feel free to ignore it or change aspects of it!

Hear me out right. A mix of the sex doll au and hybrid au (either fox or husky) for childe. But like in the doll au how he replaces components as a form of trying to live out the dad fantasy? Yeah that but in the hybrid au. Like reader is trying to rehabilitate this poor little baby fox kit/husky puppy that's really sickly and was abandoned. Childe basically looks at the reader playing nurse/mommy for this poor thing almost 24/7 (his attention is being deprived lol) and goes "oh yeah that little one is ours duh". He starts exhibiting protective dad behavior while simultaneously being like "look at how good of a job I can do".

Follow up to that the pup/kit either gets better and can be handed off to another conservationist who has other young hybrids and would do a better job at caring for them in a group environment with other hybrid kiddos so there's less of a risk of em becoming too domesticated. And reader is supper bummed out about it for a while bc all their attention was zoned in on this one really precious little one and now they've moved onto bigger pastures 🥲. Meanwhile childe sees this and is like "oh now I can both console my mate in their grief, I've proven I'm a capable partner, I can totally help them make new little ones!"

Take all of that inspo/brainstorming as u will. Also if you consider people submitting ideas as commissions I apologize for misunderstanding! Did not intend to overstep 🙇‍♀️

tw - implied violence, child neglect/abandonment, and obsessive behavior.

fjdkljdfksdj i think this would probably be more plausible with husky!childe, but something about this scenario with fox!childe is just,,,

it'd just be so sweet to watch him dote over the tiny, terrified kit one of your friends found shivering in a snowbank. you really aren't qualified to take care of such a young hybrid, but while you scramble to get a hold of a more experienced volunteer, childe picks up the slack. despite being old enough to walk, the poor thing barely leaves his arms. he handles their near-hourly feedings, modifies the ill-fitting clothes you pull out of storage to accommodate their tail and hind legs, even lets them crawl between you and him at night and violate his cardinal rule (no one else gets to so much as touch your bed except for him - an unspoken law that's resulted in more than a few bitten hands and bleeding guests). he does his best to put a dent in their never-ending energy, and when it's time for you to take over, he's never more than a few feet away, wagging his tail as you take the kit's temperature and try to convince them to swallow a few drops of medicine. and, when you finally contact a volunteer with a small shelter and a pack of orphaned kits, childe seems as happy as you are, rubbing his cheek against theirs as he tells them that they'll be home soon enough. it's sweet, even if fox-hybrid dynamics are, admittedly, a little lost on you. honestly, you're just relieved you'll be able to sleep through the night again.

at least, you're relieved until you get back from work the next day, until you find your door unlocked and your apartment wrecked, furniture overturned and rust-colored stains soaked into your carpeting. you find childe on the foot of your bed, bouncing a crying kit in his lap and gushing them quietly, but he doesn't look concerned. if anything, his posture is slack, the smile written across his face nothing short of ecstatic. he looks calm. he looks happy.

he looks like someone who only just found his way home.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Finding character motivations for everything Talia Al Ghul does and says in Lost Days

People say she was manipulating Jason to be more violent but like... was she?? Why would she be doing that??? She spends years trying to heal him for Bruce and then tries to make him more violent towards Bruce because... ????????

I've read Lost Days a fair few times and it never felt like she was being cruel or manipulative and this has confused the fuck out of me for a long time. Since I'm going to be writing her into my Jason centric fic pretty soon, I figured it would be good to go back to Lost Days and really focus in on her and her character motivations.

This is a post because I do my best thinking through the act of writing essays, and figured someone out there might also be interested.

tl;dr In the text as written Talia does her level best to guide Jason to become a Hero again out of genuine compassion. It is her explicit goal to make Jason less vengeful, less violent, and more like the hero he was before he died. She is not predatory towards him, and the only times she works in ways that could be damaging to him are when she feels her own safety is threatened by him. Talia is depicted as a good but flawed person shaped by the trauma Ra's and the League has put her through.

So yeah, wildly over detailed analysis of everything Talia does and says during Lost Days under the cut:

Scene one: Ra's and Talia yelling dramatically on a lawn right after Talia uses a Lazarus Pit on Jason.

Her stated justification for doing so is "I did--what--needed to be done" (em dashes for choking). Considering she risked a LOT to do this, I figure she's probably telling the truth. She believed this was necessary.

Then we flash back to her first learning about Jason's death. She posits that his death will essentially break Bruce.

In the panels directly after this she's shown looking at a picture of Jason and Bruce, face in hands, clearly upset. Probably primarily for Bruce, but like idk she's an empathic human I feel like it's safe to say she's upset for the kid who died too, especially since the picture centers Jason prominently, with focus/close-up panels on both Bruce and Jason, with Jason's scanning first.

Then we have the sequence of her learning that Jason is still alive, through her agents who have been instructed to keep a very close eye on Bruce.

Her first big decision is to bring him to her Father. She doesn't make any attempt to hide him, so it's either a good idea to her or a necessary one. Ra's obviously wants to figure out how he managed to cheat death, and it seems likely to me, given that she's loyal to him, that she'd also want to do so. She doesn't seem to want him dead, even if she's at odds with him pretty much the whole time to one degree or another.

Then we get her investigating Jason's ressurection and the doctor she's got telling her about his brain damage and the Doc claims he's not getting better

We're just gonna breeze on passed that autistic affect weirdness...

She disagrees.

This is the third time now that Talia has had faith in the humanity and emotional capacity of people the rest of the League write off as being capable of nothing but violence. Considering she's been right the other times it stands to reason that she's right about this too. It also says a lot about her character that this is something she's repeatedly done.

She attempts to prove he's getting better by slapping Jason across the face, declaring, "He never fights back when it's me! Explain that! Never when it's me!"

This strongly suggests that she must treat him differently than the rest of the league, specifically that she treats him with more kindness and more attention. He recognizes her as someone safe, who he doesn't need to fight.

This is further backed up by the next page

Ra's then decides that all this has been a complete waste of time and demands that Jason be put out to pasture so he can't distract Talia from her work for the League.

During this argument Ra's posits that she thinks handing over a healed Jason would make Bruce love her, but that doesn't seem to be the case. I think Ra's is misreading her, in exactly the same way all of the League has been misreading everyone all issue: he's failing to understand that people are capable of actual love and compassion. He's interpreting her acts of kindness and love as something manipulative and selfish. Maybe that's something she believes or hopes for on some level, but it's obviously not her "real" motive here like Ra's thinks.

This is what makes her decide that it's necessary to make one last attempt to heal him, and get him out somewhere safer than with the League. It's a desperate last ditch attempt, but she's a competent motherfucker.

The rest of the issue is narrated as a letter Talia sends off with him in the bag of supplies she gives him. In it she says that she had other reasons for attempting to save him.

So, at the end of issue #1 we have three clear motives for why she healed Jason:

To heal Jason is to heal Bruce.

She has a basic sense of decency and wants to help a murdered kid recover. Jason healing is its own reward.

She wants to find out how Jason "survived" so that her Father might be able to replicate that for himself.

Healing Jason might bring her emotionally closer to Bruce.

ALL of these are based in love, and thus could qualify for what she meant in those last few lines of her letter. However, I think I want to emphasis that she almost certainly has to be including love for Jason himself, not just for what Jason represents to Bruce, though Bruce is still a huge focus for her.

And she didn't tell Bruce because Ra's might kill Jason. He doesn't want Batman to know he's alive, ever, and may very well kill Jason to keep that secret.

ON TO ISSUE #2

This is where it gets a lot harder to figure out why she's doing things.

Talia's first act is to refuse to tell Ra's where Jason is. Her second revealed act is that while tossing Jason into the ocean to help him escape she says this:

"Do not seek him out. You remain unavenged."

Third thing she does is check up on her loyal agents who tell her "We know where he's going You're not going to like it." This is immediately followed by the reveal that Jason is going to Gotham.

So uhhhh... Why doesn't Talia want him to go to Bruce now? Also, why does Talia think that being unavenged would mean Jason going to Bruce was a bad idea? Like how is the unavenged bit not a complete nonsequitor?

Cause the thing is, we the audience know what Jason is like in the future, Lost Days was written after UtRH, but Talia doesn't know Jason's personality, she's only met him while he was incapable of communication, so what reason does she have to assume this would impact him like this?

Hypothesis one: She knew about Felipe, thinks he killed him, and thus counts him as a killer of abusers, someone who would want revenge.

Seems pretty unlikely. There's absolutely nothing in the text to support this, it's completely made up conjecture. Also, she doesn't seem to think Jason is the type of person to do revenge all that harshly in later panels.

Hypothesis two: She's counting on the temporary adrenaline-rage-pain boost from the Pit to convince him to be mad about the whole unavenged thing.

Why tho? Like, for realsies, there's no reason for her to try to do this? If this is a plan to keep him away from Bruce, it's a dumb one, like why would that be her choice of strategy?? Also the letter contradicts this.

Hypothesis three: She believes it was wrong of Bruce not to avenge him, or at least thinks that most people would be incredibly angry to find they weren't avenged

Baring her just being fucking precognitive and knowing the future for no good reason, this seems like the most likely cause. Growing up in the League hasn't exactly given her a view of how healthy people handle their anger, and violent retaliation is a nigh daily obstacle for her to navigate. It means she told him that because she thought it was important and she probably always intended to tell him whenever he healed enough to understand it.

Hypothesis four: She assumed him finding out was inevitable, and wanted to do that in a controlled manner... uhhh... and the best controlled manner avaliable was... while flinging him off a cliff??? Instead of in the letter?????

Not buying this one.

We see Jason try to kill Bruce and then get him explaining himself to Talia.

That's... that's not how sociopathic works I'm pretty sure... whateves...

Talia seems to have believed there would have been a fight about the Joker, but not that Jason would have actually tried to kill him. Or at least not that Jason would have tried to really, truly kill him in such a cold, calculated way once all forms of Laz juice were out of his system.

So again, why the fuck was she preventing him and Bruce from meeting?! Would the Dark Knight not have survived a fist fight with an angry sixteen year old??

I don't get it. That's uhhhh- that doesn't make any sense to me. I guess she was just wary of how bad the confrontation might get, but not fully expecting this kind of rage? Maybe she was acting much more confident of her decisions in front of her father and was really worried about this outcome? I dunno, and that's all the evidence we've got!

And now we have a new problem! Why does Talia agree to help him?

She believes she's released a curse into this world. She believes that she has kickstarted a nasty cycle of violence spiral. She doesn't want to see Bruce hurt or killed by his kid.

So the only conclusion left is that she thinks she can better mitigate the damage by helping and misdirecting than she can by actually confronting Jason. Considering who she interacts with, that seems perfectly reasonable.

ON TO ISSUE #3

We get some proper answers here hopefully

Our previous idea about why she was helping him was correct, this is an attempt to keep him less violent, steer him towards other things, and let his desire for revenge fizzle or find a different target.

She's not giving him over to Bruce because Bruce would never forgive her for having kept Jason from him... And also Jason will fucking kill Bruce.

Make special note here of the idea that sex is why she isn't beating the crap out of this guy. Put a pin in that. It'll be important later.

Back down at the murder ranch, Jason finishes killing his teacher and then explains himself

I believe she's genuinely happy about this, because it is actually a step in the direction she wants him to take. He went from being completely obsessed with just killing the father who didn't avenge him, to saving a bunch of kids and delaying his own revenge goals to do it. The tin man IS growing a heart. Her plan is, miraculously, kinda working!

ON TO ISSUE #4

Further proof that her plan is working: Jason leaves Rip, the mercenary driver, alive. He's developing standards for who he is and isn't willing to kill, and those standards are evolving because he is being pushed outside his conflict with Bruce.

His treatment of the bomber's connection with the mob is further proof of this.

That little smile and her gently nudging him towards the idea that he's picking "old habits" back up is very telling. She's guiding him back to the path of actually being a Hero. I think this is meant to imply that Talia is deliberately throwing scumbags towards him to not only distract him, but also to remind him of the heroism he did before he died and give him new purpose beyond mere violence towards Bruce.

And again, her plan is working! He's doing hero stuff!

Aaaaand now we have another curveball. Why show him Tim?

Again, him finding out about this was probably inevitable. He seems more chill, the dark circles under his eyes are gone, I think she's hoping that while in the middle of a new investigation Jason will be in as good a place as she can find to tell him about this.

It's better than mid cliff dive, if nothing else.

Now, to head this off at the pass, because I've seen people assert this in other posts before: this is definitively, absolutely, 100% guaranteed, NOT WHEN TITANS TOWER HAPPENS. He hasn't even come up with using the red hood as a persona when she shows him this picture, so even if he let the extremely time sensitive bombing plot go for a day or two worth of private jetting to beat up the new guy, there's no way in HELL Tim would be able to recognize the Red Hood as Jason. Heck, Tim wouldn't even be with that set of Titans yet, the fucking HUSH plotline hasn't even happened yet!! Okay moving on...

ON TO ISSUE #5

Talia isn't in this one

Jason acts as a Hero. Tim man definitely has a heart.

I really like this plotline tbh, it's just great.

He kills all but one of the Russian mobsters that come to kill him and then he runs out of ammo on the last, and that guy offers up the Joker's location in exchange for his life.

This is when the Tin Man relapses.

ON TO ISSUE #6

CONTENT WARNING FOR DISCUSSION OF CONSENT ISSUES

He hunts the Joker down and fails to kill him. I want to emphasis here, that failing to kill the Joker is a failure to adhere to the morals that Jason has established for himself, and a failure to keep being an anti-hero the way Talia was encouraging him to be.

This is not him being a good guy. This is him getting worse again. This is him failing to care about the world and things other than his own revenge.

Once again he explains himself to Talia, and reveals that he's known for a while now that she's been stalling him.

And then they fuck, and Jason wakes up alone.

So what just happened and why?

First of all I think the fact he KNEW he was being stalled combined with his heroism prior to the Joker being brought up strongly implies that Talia's plan would have kept working and that Jason would have kept letting it work, drawing him more and more into just being an anti-hero. He has a heart, he has morals, but his rage for Bruce and the Joker eclipses those morals pretty completely. Talia's plan was always to guide him away from revenge and it might have worked if he hadn't run out of ammo at the wrong time.

Secondly, Talia has just been given a bunch of reasons to feel threatened. Her plot was revealed, and Jason no longer has reason to believe that she isn't an obstacle to his goals.

Considering the sheer amount of violence that Talia regularly narrowly escapes only through manipulation and leveraging men's emotions, it seems pretty reasonable to me that she'd assume she needed to do both those things in order to protect herself.

She tells Jason about Ra's death, claiming that she's angry with Bruce for that. I don't know if this is the truth, but it would serve this purpose either way. She's giving him reasons to believe she's still on his side. Then she gets emotional leverage on him by sleeping with him. Take that pin out of the fact that she didn't beat that other guy for talking out of turn to her because she was fucking him. Then she escapes while he's asleep and only contacts him again from afar.

She does both of these things because she is afraid that a freshly refocused on vengeance Jason will hurt or kill her if she doesn't. After all, she herself is a killer. Jason might just decide it's her turn to join his other teachers.

The scene of them sleeping together isn't framed as traumatic for Jason; he seems to be perfectly willing.

There two very important questions that need answered before we cast judgments though: Is Jason still a minor when this happens? How old is Talia in comparison to Jason?

The only indication of timeline that we have is that it takes place JUST prior to Hush, as the story ends with Jason meeting Tomas Elliot. According to the Batman Chronology Project, Tim should be 16 during the events of Hush. We know Jason is about two years older than Tim, making him 18 during this scene.

According to Dennis O'Neil "I’m pretty sure that Talia is still a young woman – young by our standards, not just her father’s." According to some random fucker on an ancient comicvine forum going by the handle "brock4618", O'Neil said in a different interview that she was 18 when Bruce kissed her and is about Dick's age, not Bruce's age. I can't find O'Neil saying that, but it does line up with the quote we know is real.

So this was a case of an extremely traumatized 18 year old boy agreeing to sleep with a woman in her twenties after he accidentally made her feel that she needed to use sex and emotional manipulation to protect herself from his possible violent retaliation.

This is still a deeply unpleasant situation, but it's so much better than the initial impression that I got!

CONCLUSIONS TIME

Talia healed Jason because

She's a kind and loving person, and was especially kind and loving when she was younger. She wants to help Bruce, she wants to help Jason, and she wants to help her father. She did it for love.

Talia kept Jason's existence a secret from Bruce because

Her father demanded she keep it a secret, then she was afraid Bruce would hate her for it, and by the time she ought to be warning Bruce about Jason, well he was a scary motherfucker and she was in too deep.

Is Talia portrayed as a sexually predatory monster?

No. A woman using sex to escape violence is not predatory; I will fucking fight you. That whole scenario was bad, but acting like she's evil for this doesn't pan out unless you disagree with some of the facts of the case. It also really doesn't feel like Winick intended for the audience to assume this was predatory. Jason never seems uncomfortable with the fact it happened, and he even gives Jason a bit of beard scruff to help convey that he's older now. (it uh... it didn't work. Because I thought Talia was like 52 at minimum. Also just the timeline. But that was the intent I feel)

Is Talia attempting to make Jason more vengeful?

No. Exact opposite actually, every lie and manipulation is in service of preventing him from going on his vengeance quest, guiding him to be a better person, and protecting herself and others.

As a side note: I haven't touched the potential misogyny or racism angles, because that's simply beyond the scope of this analysis. I don't have the time, energy, or resources to dig into this myself, you'll have to find a different post for that angle, sorry.

So... yeah. That's my findings, I hope at least one other person finds this useful!

[starrystevie]

something about steve, king of romance, who is pining so hard for eddie. he's putting on all his best moves, bedroom eyes and hands that brush and biting his lip and watching how eddie's eyes track all of it, and he knows that eddie feels the same way. he's sees eddie flirt back and push closer into steve's personal space and he invited him to this fucking bar, for christ's sake. everyone knows that getting an invite to go to a dance club from someone who looks like they want to eat you alive is code for 'i'm taking you home at the end of the night'.

so why the fuck is eddie pressed up against some girl with long curls that rival his own? why is steve watching like a car crash as eddie connects their lips, smiles pushed together, with hands around waists and in locks of hair and legs tangled together and-

and then they separate. just as quickly as it started, it's over. steve feels like he's gotten whiplash watching eddie disembark from the girl with a laugh to tangle their fingers together and pull her onto the dance floor. he meets steve's eye and the glimmer of giddiness dies as he sees the frown that is no doubt pulling at steve's face. eddie rushes over to him and the girl he was with finds someone else on the dance floor to wrap her arms around.

"what's wrong?" eddie asks as he bring his hands up to lay gently on his shoulders, and steve wants to laugh in his face because he looks so sincere and worried, like he has no idea that steve's heart is shattering under his member's only jacket.

steve takes a sip of his beer, shakes his head with a cold laugh, "nothing's wrong, man. but i think your girlfriend's moved on to greener pastures."

eddie's eyebrows furrow, lips turning downward as he looks back over his shoulder to see the girl pressed tightly against a handful of others with hands disappearing under clothes. he looks back at steve, at his barely concealed pissy face, and gives him a laugh of his own before burrowing his hand in the hair at the base of steve's neck.

"she's not my-" he laughs again and steve can barely hear it over the music. eddie bends down and presses his mouth damn near on top of steve's ear. "sometimes you gotta kiss someone pretty, steve. it's fun to kiss strangers, even if you have your eyes on a different prize. one with better hair and a stupid polo shirt."

eddie pulls back just barely with that giddiness back in his eyes before pressing in even closer. "you have 3 seconds to kiss me before i go find another pretty someone to have fun with. but i'd rather that pretty someone was you."

steve blinks back into himself, wraps his hands around eddie's waist to feel the heat of his body underneath the leather jacket that he for some reason refused to take off before coming out tonight. he feels more than hears the stuttering breath it gets out of the man underneath his hands. steve thinks about how many times he's wanted to tell eddie just how much he means to him, how badly he wants to woo him.

"it's not just for fun if i do it, though. i want it to mean something."

eddie just nods, and lets his lips hover over steve's. "good."

[plusultraetc]

you know the drill, I'm still thinking about this post and it's been awhile since I had an emotion about this, but seriously what's the deal with Aizawa being narratively surrounded by characters who were "born bad" because of their powers. Eri is the most obvious example (again!! this post!!), but then there's Shigaraki as her parallel character who, omg, has respect for one (1) hero and it's Eraserhead. look further, and there's Shinsou, whose entire motivation is proving that he can be a hero in spite of what people call a villainous quirk. if you want to reach for the stars, Present Mic was born with his quirk and immediately deafened not only his parents but the doctor who was present, probably some nurses too. objectively this is a bad thing. something something inherently "bad" powers surrounding Aizawa whose power it is to take other people's quirks away. I'm taking it, I'm running with it, I'm like a Swedish cow put out to pasture after a long winter in the barn