#personally i don’t think my oc/mc would

[hallowxiu]

alright, i’ve been thinking. recently, i’ve made a post where the Obey Me Brothers react and grapple with MC’s mortality. out of pure curiosity, if Solomon came up with a way for you to become immortal, would you take it? would your OC?

[onlyswan]

summary: in which the sweet ache of yearning metamorphoses into the art of intimacy and knowing.

idol!jk x reader, est. relationship / fluffy fluff, a dash of angst, explicit content (minors dni!!) / word count: 10.5k

warnings/content: divided into seven parts. it’s like a timeline hehe <3 ; mainly in jk’s pov!! ; underaged drinking (oc is 18 in that part but the legal age of drinking in sk is 19 so!) ; mention of almost? n*des (neither sent by our mcs) ; making out ; thigh grinding ; brief or*l (f. rec + allusions to m. rec) ; mention and allusion to s*x [yesyes it’s the first time] [oc may or may not cry a little too…] ; they have a ‘what if i die before you?’ discourse lmao

playlist! restless - bibi ; lily of the valley - daniel ; who do you love - the black skirts ; intro (end of the world) - ariana grande ; snow - josh makazo

> in which masterlist!

note: look at my gorjus ethereal bf !!!! anyway… hi, i’m back ^_^ here’s my not so little offering to those who’s been missing the iw couple <3 as always i’d love to hear your thoughts :") come chat!!

—

I. THE FALLING

“just stay the night.” you blurt out, turning to jungkook to express your worry. “i can’t let you leave right now. it’s not safe.”

his wide eyes scan the headline of the news once more.

heavy snowfall, road accident, several injured… versus staying the night at the apartment of not quite his friend, not quite his lover, for the first time.

he can’t deny that he favors the latter over the former with an explicable feeling rendering him breathless. still, he can’t allow his enthusiasm to cloud his better judgement. he knows he’s still somewhat of a stranger to you. he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome or make you feel uncomfortable in your own space.

“are you sure you’re comfortable with it?”

“sure. should i be worried?“

“no! uhm, i just thought not everyone would be comfortable to have a person they’re not very close with to sleep over.”

you chuckle, lightly bumping your shoulder against his. “chill. i have bigger things to be scared of than the guy who just cried with me while watching an anime movie.”

oh… he thought you were too absorbed in wiping your own tears to notice him crying too.

he slumps back on the sofa with a sigh. “i see. i guess we’re left with no choice then.”

“i have an extra toothbrush!”

—

jungkook doesn’t quite understand people’s obsession with his eyes, but getting enamored by the innocence that yours seem to glisten with, he wonders if he is experiencing the same case.

“can you see if this fits you?”

you stand before him with a stack of neatly folded clothes, unraveling a pair of gray sweatpants to hold up infront of him.

“i think… there’s a string? oh, there’s none.”

he chuckles. “you forgot?”

“well, it’s not mine. my ex never came back for his clothes.“ you huff with a roll of your eyes, muttering a silent his loss into the air. “i’ve washed it though! don’t worry! it’s just- you know- sleeping in denim pants is uncomfortable.”

does that mean you still wear the clothes of your exes? this pisses him off for some unknown reason. he would much rather sleep uncomfortably than wear their clothes.

you kindly smile, pushing the black knitted sweater against his chest. “but this is mine. it’s really warm and comfortable!”

but on another note, you’re too sweet and thoughtful. how could he ever say no?

—

the sweatpants is a little loose around his waist. your sweater, however, feels incredibly soft against his skin. as he walks back into the living room, he pulls down his sweater paws and runs his hands across its sleeves. if he had to describe the feeling it evokes, he would say it is very much similar to rolling around on freshly washed and dried bedsheets.

“it’s nice, right?”

he whips his head around upon hearing the sound of your voice. for a quick second, you caress his arm with the back of your hand, and even with the barrier separating your skin from his, the casual touch causes his breath to hitch.

“i finished cleaning the room. i set up a comforter on the floor so you can take the bed.”

“is that so? thank you!”

he zooms past you. you’re left standing alone, blinking in confusion. he is more than happy to welcome himself into your bedroom… so he can slyly steal the bed you prepared for yourself. he slides under the covers, makes himself all cozy with his hands resting on the back of his head as if it’s not a raging winter and he’s lying under the summer sun.

“and what do we have here?”

jungkook cracks one eye open. there you are leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed. you raise your eyebrows at him, demanding an answer.

“what?” he smiles childishly. “you’re the one doing me a favor. i’m not going to let you sleep on the floor.”

“how polite. suit yourself, sir.” you shake your head in amusement, smiling.

you enter the room, flicking the lightswitch off and locking the door at the speed of light. without thinking, probably; muscle memory formed by your routine. he is the only thing not a part of it. yet.

“goodnight, jungkook.”

“goodnight.”

he still sees you moving around in the dark. you crouch down beside him and he feels the extra pillow he’s partially crushing under his weight be jerked away all of a sudden.

“i need this one. sorry.” you whisper-shout apologetically. “goodnight! sweet dreams!”

—

jungkook sighs, tired of mindlessly scrolling through social media. his eyes flutter shut as he allows his phone to collapse on his chest. he is yet to even figure out if going to work later would be possible because of the blocked roads. he has gotten enough earful about not heading straight to the dorm and he cannot risk any more. because then, he would have to see less of you.

he sneakily opens his eyes, craning his head to the side to steal a glance of you, but he finds that you’ve already fallen asleep on your textbook and he’s unable to look away again. bathed in the warm light of the lampshade on your bedside, he has never seen you more peaceful. he learns with hard evidence that you’re a side sleeper, curled up underneath the blanket and cutely snuggled against the pillow you took from him.

he doesn’t know how long he’s been admiring you, but he knows he doesn’t want you to think of him as a creep. you stir in your sleep and his hand swiftly flies to his phone. pretending to be absorbed in reading the first tweet he comes across, he tries taking another subtle glimpse of you.

it’s as if he’s been caught and punished.

he flinches.

your textbook collides with the floor, landing only inches next to his pillow. he begins sweating. he could’ve easily gotten a concussion at best, death at worst.

he sits up with his elbows anchoring him, poking around to investigate the cause of the fall. admittedly, he’s a little sad to see your back now facing him.

“shit, what am i doing?” he roughly rubs his face to knock some sense back into him.

he needs to get some sleep. yeah, that’s it. nothing more.

he picks up your textbook, taking it upon himself to bring it over to your desk. on his way back, he also decides to to turn off the lampshade.

his finger freezes on the button, however. he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to silence the giggle that threatens to escape him— so fucking endeared to discover that you’ve kicked off your blanket and rolled over to your other side along with the pillow, your thigh carelessly slumped over it.

he tucks himself back into bed, heart feeling all warm and fuzzy.

“so, so adorable.”

the words escape him without thought; the smile on his face ever-present even as he drifts off to dreamland.

—

II. ALLOW ME TO LINGER BY THE DOOR

“hey, it’s getting late. shouldn’t you be heading home by now?”

you sit beside jungkook on the sofa after a phone call, and his round eyes grow twice their size when you steal the iced tea from his grasp, nonchalant as your lips wrap around the same red straw his have been only seconds ago.

he awkwardly clears his throat, perhaps to mask his loud heartbeat. “is your friend okay?”

“oh, she’ll be fine. it’s her fault so i can’t do much for her this time.” you shrug, picking up your chopsticks as you eye the last dumpling in the bowl. “still hate that guy, though.”

“the one you think is lying about being rich?”

“i don’t know much about real ones, but i’m pretty sure i’ve seen enough fake diamonds!”

that seems to hits the right spot to elevate your mood. you hum happily as you chew, collapsing on the cushions and looking straight ahead at the television screen.

“sorry about that. you must be bored and tired by now.”

“about that…” jungkook swallows his nervousness. he rests his arm on top of the sofa, just to act cool. he’s so close to you yet still so distant. “i’m dead tired from filming today. i’ve been up since four in the morning. would it be too much trouble if i spend the night again?”

“i should be the one asking you that. why do you like this trashy place way more than i do?” you shake your head, wiping your mouth with a paper napkin. “i’ll go fix up so you can rest then. you’re lucky minji didn’t claim the bed first.”

fuck, he was supposed to get kicked out?

“wait! do you need a change of clothes?”

“there’s no need!” he replies a little too quickly. if he has to wear the clothes of another one of your exes, he might end up on the news for setting himself on fire. “i have extras in my backpack i didn’t got to wear today.”

“oh, okay.” you flash him a smile before disappearing into the bedroom.

yeah, how convenient.

he exhales through his mouth.

when did he start lying? his mother would be very disappointed in him. but on the other hand, his father would explode in boisterous laughter and pat him on the back. nevermind… that just makes it worse.

“guess i’m going to hell!” he shrugs, wearing a smile that is rather too jubilant.

he grabs his backpack on the floor and heads to the bathroom; your home is another home away from home.

—

jungkook is exhausted from dance practice. he must’ve exerted himself too hard again without realizing it. for the third time this week, he’s attaching pain relief patches to his neck and shoulders, shirt pulled to the side as to expose the area. normally, he’d just take it off without care, but he’s in a different setting. while he’s pretty confident with the current condition of his body, it would be rude to strip out of nowhere. and you make him nervous. would he fluster you or would you fluster him? he’s not prepared to find out yet.

“are you okay?”

his movements from below capture your attention amidst catching up to the events in your group chats.

“i’m okay, just a little sore. don’t worry!” he waves off your concern with a scrunch of his nose. “i also fell asleep in the car earlier so…”

“i can give you a massage. if you want.”

“no, it’s fine.” even though the offer sounds extremely tempting, especially coming from you. “i know you’re tired too.”

“hm, your loss. i’m kind of an expert at it.”

he squints his eyes at you. “really?”

“you don’t believe me?”

you sit up on the bed with an offended gasp, and he laughs at how you quite literally rose up to the challenge.

“we do have actual experts come in and take care of us too, you know that?”

“excuse you, i’m an actual expert! i have more than a decade of experience!”

he isn’t surprised to witness you climb down immediately afterwards, sitting behind him with your hands already on his shoulders.

“hmm, my dad worked at construction sites. my mom had a desk job. this- this was my job.” your fingers begin pressing down as if you’re assessing him, touching the bare skin of his still exposed shoulder. “got paid with extra allowance. making money was easy back then.”

“you’re so adorab- ah, ah, ah-” his sentence is cut short by his own self when you apply pressure on a big knot, gently massaging it in small circles to loosen the tightly wound muscle fibers. “fuck, it hurts… yeah, that’s good. don’t stop.”

he hears you snort, feels your forehead collapse on his back as vibrant giggles rack your body. a blush of red creeps up to his cheeks and he’s thankful that you can’t see his face.

he laughs along, belly aching. “okay, okay- i heard it! i should keep my mouth shut!”

“no no no, i won’t laugh anymore!”

“you’re still doing it right now!”

“i’ll stop!” you sniffle, laughed to the point of tears. you squeeze his shoulders. “just relax! you’re so tense here, see? no wonder it hurts.”

there’s no denying that his body is pushed to its limits everyday; he has grown accustomed of this kind of lifestyle and he doesn’t complain. you’re making him want to do it all the time, though. if it means getting pampered like this? hell yeah.

“it hurts here too. over- over here-” he reaches a hand to his back, patting the area that has been bothering him all day. “this part. will you make it go away, please?”

“here? your shoulder blade?”

“yes!”

“okay. tell me if i should go gentler or harder. i don’t want to hurt you.”

it’s his turn to snort. he shortly learns that was not a smart move.

“ah, ah, ah-” you pull at his ear and this time he moans in pain. “oh, come on! you gave that one away!”

“shut up! you’re not allowed to laugh too!”

—

he tries not to create more embarrassing sounds. at some point he begun to busy himself with his phone, but to no avail, there are occasional moans and grunts he can’t bite down because you weren’t lying about being a pretty damn good masseur. and then he does it on purpose once, just to hear you laugh again, because his being already feels a million times lighter and you show no signs of exhaustion or boredom.

“you have a mole here,” you casually observe. he feels a light touch on the side of his neck and the butterflies in his stomach become untamed. “it’s sexy.”

he blushes, caught off guard by the compliment. “thank you.”

“you’re welcome.” you hum.

the minutes pass by and he is no longer faking silence, however. all he can think about now is how he wishes that he was lying down for this. how long has it been? you’ve been definitely at it for almost an hour. he yawns, eyelids fighting to stay open but failing miserably.

“hey, wipe your drool.”

he blinks. your beautiful face greets him— for a second, he’s convinced that he has begun dreaming. with a mischievous grin, you lift the collar of his shirt to wipe the corners of his lips, and in a state of near delirium, he cackles.

“seriously, thank you… i-i don’t even know what to say. i really needed that.” he sighs, carelessly rubbing his heavy eyes. “i’ll treat you to dinner tomorrow. how about that?”

“sounds good. now go to sleep.” you pat his back before rising on your feet. “your head kept on dropping and i felt bad.”

“that happens a lot.”

“well, it’s bad for your neck. keep doing it and i’ll get more free dinners.”

the unmistakable sound of a kiss that follows, it suspiciously matches with the warmth that lingers on his cheek.

“goodnight!”

“goodnight…” he only manages to mumble.

his mind has gone off to space. you tuck yourself into your bed after turning off the lampshade while jungkook feels like he just got blasted to the moon. he needs to get out of here. STAT.

“i’ll go drink some water. do you want me to get you a glass?”

“no, i’m fine.”

he makes out your figure shuffling in the dark, snuggled closely to a pillow.

he nods, which you probably didn’t even see. he steps out of the room as quietly as possible, slowly closing the door as to produce the smallest click. he pads to the kitchen still feeling light, almost like he’s walking on a path made out of clouds. he pours himself a glass of cold water from the fridge, chugs it down to the very last drop.

he licks his lips as he sets down the glass on the counter. he sighs deeply. he can still feel the outline of your lips, sticky lip balm printed on his skin. is it normal that he couldn’t be bothered to wipe it off?

“totally worth going to hell for.” he muses, unaware of the smirk that has started playing on his lips.

he briskly washes the glass at the sink, wiping it dry with a towel before deposting it back into the rack.

as expected, you’ve already fallen asleep by the time that he returns. the light from the hallway casts a glow over your face and it’s a sight that is painfully intimate in its own peculiar way.

he can’t put a name to it, but whatever this feeling is, he likes it and he wants it to last.

and so, he lingers by the door for a few seconds more.

—

III. THE YEARNING

jungkook hisses your name with yet another curse, heart so close to jumping out of his chest. when you were on the phone incoherently begging him to take you home from the club, he expected to carry out a passed out person from his car to their apartment floor, which he found no problem with aside from the possibility of having to deal with them throwing up.

instead, he is struck by an unusual combination of amusement and distress. he has been running around trying to capture you as you spend your final bursts of energy ringing strangers’ doorbells. your exhilarated laughter echoes throughout the hallways. he must confess that he was laughing along with you the first time… until it started to get a little bit out of hand.

if someone recognizes him by chance, he would be beyond fucked.

“don’t- don't do it! stop it! please!” he finally manages to seize your wrist before it can reach another, forced to wrap his arms around your torso so you won’t escape from him again. “are you crazy? it’s 3am! people are sleeping!”

“that’s the point.” you mewl, looking back to him with a childish pout underneath the hood of your coat. “why are they sleeping? it’s when the ghosts come out. does no one ever think about ghosts’ feelings? because i do! if i were a ghost, i’d be lonely and crying right now!”

oh my god, what is happening?

“so let’s invite them and everyone for more drinks!” you jump up and down, his secure hold doesn’t hold a candle to your hypernese. “jungkook, i want to drink more! more more more! buy me!”

unfortunately, he doesn’t have the time to dwell on your cuteness. he hears a door click from behind and his instincts instantaneously kick in. oh shit, you actually fucking woke someone up. he sweeps you off your feet, clasping a hand over your mouth to mute your angry protests. he turns at a corner, trapping you against the wall.

a deep and manly voice fills the silence. “hello? who’s there?”

two pairs of eyes widen, staring at each other as if they can read minds through them. he notices the unsteady rise and fall of your chest; your heart must be beating as fast as his. he has to pull down his black mask to be able to breathe.

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he grumbles with a pointed look.

when you smile, he perceives it first through the palm of his hand before it reaches your eyes. only then does he fully register the dangerously close proximity between you.

dangerous because he wants to kiss you.

dangerous because you’d dare him to do it and his self-control has been reduced to a million cracks.

“ah, this prank again! fucking teenagers!”

and the door slams shut. you both flinch.

“that guy has a fridge full of beer!”

you are vexed, voice muffled but still clearly loud. you harshly paw at his forearm to remove his hand, and your pout finally comes into view.

“no, you’ve had enough! seriously, what am i going to do with you? huh? you shouldn’t even be drinking at all.” he blows a loud breath, frustratedly running his fingers through his hair. “how did you even get in the club? fake id? you have it, don’t you?”

you rush to defend yourself. “i’m only younger by a year and i don’t look like it! as if they actually care in those places. they only want money.”

he begins to question if the bloodshot of your eyes is solely because of the alcohol or you’re also on the verge of tears.

“why? are you mad at me?”

“no, i’m not mad. should i be?”

“…i don’t know. why do you even care about things like that? you’re not my boyfriend or my parent so i don’t need to explain myself to you.” you angrily ramble, wriggling out of the tight spot he had you trapped in.

and that felt like a fucking dagger to the heart.

“you know what? i-i can do this. i can take care of myself, so go home.”

“____, don’t be like this, please. you’re drunk.”

“i’m not drunk, just tipsy! you can go home!”

he runs after you, but you shrug him off and continue walking away, perhaps a little too fast. he curses himself when he catches up to you seconds too late, witnessing you fall over to the floor with a thump and a whimper.

“are you okay?! where does it hurt?!”

you shake your head profusely, but your hands gripping your ankle gives away the answers. he doesn’t press you further. without another word, he hooks an arm under your knees and the other under your back, swooping you from the floor. he stands up straight, adjusts your position slightly, and walks the path you attempted to travel alone in your intoxicated state.

perhaps he is mad. he went and abandoned his rest time when you said that you needed him, only for you to rudely send him home. he has the right to be mad, even just a little bit, despite the fact that he isn’t your boyfriend, right?

not that it matters.

you cling to his neck and it all melts away.

he glances down at you. a soft smile has replaced your frown. “oh, so now you’re happy again?”

“yes,” you tilt your head. “feels like i’m floating.”

“where’s your key?”

“huh?”

“your key-”

“oh!”

you dig out the item from the pocket of your coat. you proudly dangle it infront of his face along with the colorful keychains attached to it; the bear was gifted by yours truly from japan. he totally forgot that it existed. the last time he saw it was when he tossed it in the paper bag he gave you.

he’s not even your boyfriend. the two of you know that doesn’t make sense anymore.

—

after he sets you down on the sofa, he kneels on the floor to remove the heels from your aching feet. he gets the hang of it after unfastening the second strap. while he’s preoccupied, you strip off your coat to combat the increased temperature of your body.

“i need to pee.” you urgently kick off the heels as you rise on your feet.

jungkook looks up and forgets how to breathe. you are irresistibly gorgeous; the cherry red mid-thigh dress you’ve been hiding from him hugs your body so perfectly. he’s ensnared and thoroughly convinced that you’re aware of your power to leave men and women alike sweating and tongue-tied.

goddammit, he is mad. you were at the club looking like this among flashing lights and grinding bodies and he is not your boyfriend.

“doesn’t your ankle hurt?”

“doesn’t matter. i need to pee.”

he clicks his tongue as you limp your way towards the bathroom.

“you’re so hardheaded.”

he lifts up your arm to bring it over his shoulders; he holds your waist to assist you.

“and your heart is so soft.” you giggle, and his world stops when you hold his face… peppering his cheek with an amount of kisses he doesn’t have half the mind to count.

you said you’re not drunk, just tipsy. does that mean you genuinely like him this much and you’ll remember it when you wake up?

dear god, he hopes so.

—

jungkook is supposed to wake up in four hours. however, he’s still wide awake sitting by your pillow, mind completely blank on what he’s supposed to do now that you’re safe and sound. he can’t bring himself to leave just yet. you bump against his knee as you shuffle and squirm, eyes closed but yet to land in the confines of slumber. he can hear your rugged and frustrated breathing, can’t help but to hopelessly adore how pretty you are even with knitted eyebrows and tousled hair.

he likes you so much. he knows it hasn’t been that long since you met but the thought of losing the chance of winning you over makes him want to cry and throw a tantrum. you’re running in his mind day and night. you have permeated all his senses. you charm him with your unapologetic existence and you effortlessly captivate his ungiven affections.

when it comes to love, his passion becomes a weakness.

a whine emits from your parted lips as if you sense that something is wrong. your hands pat around the mattress— searching and searching, until they stumble upon him. you push yourself up, head landing on the pillow, and your arms, they hug him close by his waist. only then do you finally come to a still, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

you are at peace and he is experiencing an emotional turmoil— falling in love. this is simply not fair.

the lines are becoming so blurry. he is losing control of his hands, hyperaware of what he is capable with his possession of them. he strokes your head gently, hair brushing across his palm— this is soothing to him as much as it is you.

this feels right, he thinks. he wants time to stretch from this galaxy to another.

he feels a weak tug at his sweater.

“i’m cold now,” your complaint comes out mumbled against the thick fabric.

next thing he knows you’re pulling him down by his collar, leaving him with no choice but to lie down beside you as to not crush you under his weight. where the hell did you gather the strength to do that?!

he hisses in panic. “yah! what are you doing?”

“i’m cold,” you repeat.

“____, we’re lying down on the blanket. if you can just scoot over for a seco- i’ll take it out. move-”

his attempts on communicating to you only fall on deaf ears. he zips his mouth to admit defeat.

you cling to him for warmth, and jungkook finds himself giving more than that. he volunteers his arm to be your pillow, softly cupping the back of your head as you nuzzle your face on his chest; his other arm wraps around your torso to keep you close. it is quite a tight fit on a single bed— he figures out a lame excuse for later.

now he can say for certain that you’re hearing his heartbeat, but he doesn’t seem to care anymore. he also doesn’t mind the scent of alcohol because it’s tragically losing the battle against your sweet perfume. it renders him enchanted. and the dress… that hypnotizing dress. he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to banish the sinful thoughts flooding his imagination.

he didn’t peg you to be the physically affectionate type, but seeing that you can’t sleep without hugging something, someone— he wants to be just the thing that you cherish as your safe haven. he wants this memory to be cute… and romantic. but too much heavy on the romance, you affect his body and heart in ways no one can.

he tries to will his growing erection to ebb away. it’s not an appropriate situation. he likes and respects you too much.

“my makeup…”

you said it so quietly, he almost believed he was making it up in his head.

“what was that?”

“will you- please, will you help me take off my makeup? it’s bothering me.” you make one final request at the depths of drowsiness, speech slurred and stuttered. “the wipes… the drawer behind you.”

he should’ve thought of that. he’s learning. next time, he will.

he settles into his previous position after grabbing the wipes.

“how do i help? is it okay if i d-”

he interrupts his question when he realizes that you’ve finally fallen asleep.

his sigh momentarily fills the defeaning silence of the night. the exhaustion has also begun to take a toll on him. he’s going to have to catch up on sleep during car rides and set breaks. he’s already dreading it as he’s planning around their hectic schedule.

as he wipes off your makeup as carefully as possible, he mutters into the thin air. “you owe me a massage for this.”

—

IV. HAPPINESS OUTSIDE DAYDREAMS

“you’re my boyfriend now and you don’t sleep on the floor anymore. how cute is that?” you happily think out loud, swinging your feet dangling at the edge of the bed. “but if you want to go back to our old ways… my bed is small even for me.”

“no way. are you kidding?!” he jokingly protests in an angry manner. “your bed is perfect.”

jungkook is on cloud nine. it sure does feel good to hear you sound so happy calling him your boyfriend, even more so to reap its special privileges.

“i keep forgetting to ask. which side do you prefer?”

you’re sat facing the door. “i don’t know, but i’m used to sleeping here.”

“alright. i’ll stay here.” he climbs under the covers, spreading his arms once his back hits the mattress. the smirk on his face widens. “come here, baby.”

a grunt slips past his lips when you jump into his arms without warning, eventually falling over to the side when he moves to envelope you in his embrace.

“you’re so warm.” you purr in contentment as you bury your face against his chest. “i love cuddling so much.”

“i’ve noticed,” he replies. he softly squeezes your exposed thigh after you slump your leg over his hip to maximize your comfort. “your pillow must be softer than me though.”

“no, i like you more… cuddling is proven to have health benefits, you know?”

he quirks an eyebrow. “oh really? give me examples.”

“it releases happy chemicals in the brain… it apparently also helps to lower blood pressure and heart rate, and it-” you fail to stifle a sleepy yawn, hands grasping the cloth of his shirt and forming closed fists. “…improves one’s quality of sleep.”

“i can see it’s working well for you.” he chuckles.

“is it for you?”

“mhmm, yes,” he presses his lips to your forehead. “i’m happy. there’s only happy chemicals in my brain right now.”

jungkook means it wholeheartedly and it feels strange. he doesn’t feel happy in this moment alone. this happiness is colossal and there’s not nearly enough hours in a day to take it all in. this happiness will still be here when he wakes up tomorrow, and the day after that. this happiness stays with him even when you’re not physically present. you’ve turned him into an optimistic fool but it’s not always that he experiences an attraction this strong.

he’s smitten and he can’t hide it. the people who are around him everyday sees it on his face; he doesn’t even need to say it out loud. all that corny shenanigans about romance giving you a certain type of glow is apparently true, it turns out.

“kissing is said to have the same effects, actually.”

your coyness captivates him from his thoughts.

he draws back slightly, the glint of mischief in his eyes mirroring yours. “where do you learn these things?”

“through reading and experience.” you shrug innocently. “want to test that out too?”

you’re everywhere. he can taste your lips, your tongue; your body wash floods his sense of smell with a sweet and clean scent, plus something else he can’t quite name. he can only it describe as you. your hair is tangled in his fingers and your hands… so delicate and teasing with every touch, it feels like being electrified. it still feels incredibly chilly outside but heat is radiating off his skin. he needs to peel himself off you before he loses his last shred of self-control.

“baby…” he whispers, lips only a couple inches from yours. he takes your hand in a tender hold, placing it over his racing heartbeat. “i’m not sure about this one being good for my health.”

“but it is. you just burnt some calories.” you smile, wiping the sweat that has started to form on his forehead. “should we stop?”

he feels his cheeks become more flushed, but his craving for you has overtaken his shyness. he might as well be drunk; intoxicated by you.

“no.” he refuses, conflicted and almost pained. “i can’t…”

he gets rid of the distance between your lips once more, swallowing the first obscene moan he brings out of you.

—

V. THE SPRING FLOWER IN THE EYE OF THE STORM

although you know they held affection for you, the boys you’ve attracted in your life have made one thing clear: they see you as an object of desire, and you unintentionally play the part well. if you were going to make their wet dreams come true, then you ought to derive pleasure from it as well without shame.

but with jungkook, the tables have turned. you wore the same lipstick from last time to rile him up on purpose, but instead you’re the one stuck trying to recall a time you were this putty in somebody’s hands. you’re not in control— you expect this thought would make you spiral, but it doesn’t.

you stumble inside your apartment making out with your boyfriend and you have an orange azalea tucked behind your ear. his hand is in your mess of a hair and it protects your head from the impact of the wall as your back collides with it. you don’t know if it was on purpose or not but your heart flutters nonetheless. this is sickeningly romantic and you want to drown yourself in it.

“oh, feels good.” his mouth on your neck is addictive, you imagine it would be heavenly on more vulnerable parts of you. your nails harshly dig into his shoulder as he takes his time with every lick, every nip of his teeth— eager to learn more about your body and what makes it weak at the knees.

you tug at his hair with a whisper. “jungkook…”

“mhm? yes, baby?”

you thought you’ve seen and felt enough. you know about lust, but never felt a chemistry this electrifying. there’s an emotion screaming beneath the daze in jungkook’s eyes; it’s always been there, but not this loud. you think if you trust your gut and open yourself up… you might just come to gain an understanding of it.

you bite your bottom lip, behind it a shadow of a smile. “bedroom.”

his restless hands slide down to hook around your thighs, and not long after, your legs are wrapped around his waist as he navigates your apartment blinded by the mutual refusal of your lips to disconnect. you giggle every time he bumps into something and groans. with his fear of accidentally letting you fall felt through his tight grip, you’re the one who kicks the bedroom shut. the sound couldn’t have been louder than the pounding of your heart reaching your own ears.

jungkook is gentle as he lays you down on the bed, but your lack of inhibitions reign over you. you begin unbuttoning his shirt, unconsciously grinding your heat against his thigh as you do so. it catches him by surprise, but then his strong hands find purchase on your waist, and you know he wants this as much as you do.

the kiss is broken up by a moan when his grip falls to your hips, guiding your wild movements in chasing pleasure with a tenderness and sensuality that transforms you into a feverish mess. another gush of arousal ruins your underwear worse. you kiss him again and eventually you lose count of the buttons— patience runs thin and with adrenaline rushing through your veins, you tear his shirt apart.

he hisses. “baby, shit- what did y-”

“shhh,” you place an index finger over his lips.

he chuckles raspily, shaking his head in disbelief. your giggles join him, equally amused with yourself.

it’s still for a few seconds, but you can hear each other breathe in the dark. you’ve seen him naked but his silhouette alone stirs the fuel spreading throughout your body. he’s perfect. your lips reclaim the place of your finger. your hands caress every inch of his skin, every curve of his flesh they can reach. he doesn’t make an effort to hold his noises and it turns you on more, if that is even possible at this point. his muscles continue to tense under your touches, even worse when you find his nipples to tease and play with. he’s perfect.

“it’s my turn.” he tries to say in the middle of the kiss, but you don’t hear a thing until he’s pulling away breathless and you’re whining in disappointment. “let me return the flavor please? i’ve been going crazy thinking about it. fuck, please.”

you sit up on the bed, pushing his naked chest challengingly. “what? you want to eat me out?“

he swallows, wide scandalized eyes failing to escape your keen observation. “i do.”

you watch him watch you strip off your sweater, “really…?” and then unclasp your bra, allowing its straps to provocatively slide down your shoulders.

“ye-yes, really.”

“then what’s stopping you?”

he whines out your name, interrupting himself with his craving for another kiss as he slips off your bra completely. it gets lost on the floor along with your sweater and you smirk deviously against his lips. “you’re testing me like this, huh? you’re so mean.”

you lie on your bed but you feel like you’re on top of the world. jungkook scatters kisses from your neck down to your chest, occasionally licking and biting as if he can’t help but to taste you. he uncovers another ticklish spot along your ribcage, but you bite your lip to control your giggles. instead, you touch his face to subtly guide him away from it.

he nuzzles his cheek against your palm, eyelids fluttering close as he presses a soft kiss to your wrist.

“may i?”

the shape of his lips lingers there. no one has ever kissed your wrist, nor have you ever imagined the first time to take place in bed.

your thumb strokes his cheek tenderly. the silence that follows there after concerns jungkook. he calls out your name, snapping you out of deep thought.

“may i?” he repeats himself.

he is patiently suspended over the waistband of your skirt. ever the gentleman, you half-smile.

“will you fuck me good after?”

the hand on his face sneaks down to pull up the skirt over your stomach; an even tinier piece of fabric covers the most intimate part of your body.

“whatever you want, baby, i will do it.” he promises.

you can hear the smirk in his voice, but you’re unable to form another response as his tongue laves over the lace, the warmth and wetness saturating through and stimulating your clit— once, slowly, and then over and over again.

you gasp, jolting and squirming in pleasure. he only makes it worse when he hums and you feel the vibration against you. you whine and he squeezes the soft flesh of your inner thighs in an attempt soothe you, keep you still, nuzzling his cheek as he meets your heated gaze.

“relax… is my baby always this sensitive?” he places a chaste kiss over your clit, causing your breath to hitch. “‘cause i’ve barely started.”

“jungkook,” you impatiently whine. “why’d you stop? just do it, please- need you.”

you’d wipe off that stupid smirk on his face if only you weren’t so pent up and you didn’t need his tongue.

“wow… didn’t think you’re the type to beg.” he muses, more so talking to himself. “i like it.”

hell no, you’re not.

but finally, he dives in, greedily pulling aside the flimsy material for a real taste of you. instead of a sharp remark, erotic sounds between a moan and a sob emit from your lips. your toes curl at the surge of mind-numbing ecstasy overwhelming your body. your hands fisting the sheets fly to his hair, frantically tugging like you can’t take it, but you beg and beg and beg him for more.

—

the last time you had sex was more than four months ago. you realized that you liked jungkook, and you simply didn’t want to do it with anybody else. sexual frustration combined with the romantic pining for a man that could potentially ruin your life; your youth has been nothing short of eventful.

has sex always been this good? you can’t remember. you’re drunk on pleasure even in the aftermath; you’re not sure if you’re really here or floating someplace else. as you catch your breath, jungkook soothes your body with gentle kisses and strokes of your skin, whispering sweet nothings. mostly babbling about how beautiful you are. and you feel it— feel beautiful, you mean.

you gradually open your eyes, vision adjusting to the divine view infront of you. jungkook is golden, skin still glistening with sweat under the warm glow of the lampshade. your heart skips a beat when he smiles at you.

“are you good? do you need anything? water?”

“again.”

his eyes widens. “again?“

“round two.” you giggle.

you push yourself up to reach his lips, but the kiss ends too soon for your liking.

“jungkook-” you complain.

“wait!”

you stare in bewilderment as he bends down from the edge of bed, appearing to be reaching for one of the objects discarded on the floor.

“what is it?”

“i found it!”

it’s the flower.

beaming with a hue of pure excitement, he tucks the azalea behind your ear for the second time tonight. pretty, he says it so quietly that you only understand through the movement of his lips.

he looks bewitched by you. in a different setting you’d be smug about it, but at this moment, you don’t understand. you can’t read what’s on his mind. if only you could see yourself through his eyes, even for just a moment, then maybe you’d understand why he’s dancing with fire and folding with his tower of cards.

it would be too silly and embarrassing to start crying now, right?

you swallow the lump in your throat, glassy eyes overshadowed by your boyfriend leaning in to plant a kiss on your forehead. as if that isn’t enough to entirely melt your heart, he intertwines his fingers with yours. your walls come crumbling down. in a haste to forbid your emotions from breaking free, you reach for him and slip your tongue in his mouth for a fervent kiss.

the burning tears that drip down to your temples are lost evidence you will bring to the grave.

—

“you’re not supposed to be awake.” jungkook complains as soon as he opens the door.

you only spare him a glance before returning to your task. instead of being under the sheets, you’re sat on the floor with his button-up shirt from last night laid across your lap. only several steps closer and he realizes that you’re sewing.

he exhales through his mouth in surprise, setting aside the tray of food on the bed before joining you on the floor.

“baby, what are you doing?! it’s fine. you don’t need to fix it.”

“i know, but i want to.” you reply, smiling, eyes still swollen from sleep focused on the needle and thread. “i stepped on one of the buttons so i looked for the two other.”

he’s dumbfounded watching you sew with so much care and precision. oh my god, he is in love with you. he thinks it so loud he gets terrified that he might’ve ended up speaking it out loud too.

“at least eat first!”

“wow, where did you buy ingredients so early?”

“early?” he scratches his head. “it’s lunch time.”

“what?!” your eyes grow twice their size. “jungkook, i’m late for work! what didn’t you wake me up?!”

“you- you we- you were tired!” he stutters defending himself.

he awkwardly catches his shirt when you throw it aside in a rush to get to the bathroom.

“baby, what about your food?!” he yells.

“wait, i forgot my towel-” you pop out from the doorframe, beaming at him breathlessly. “oh, please pack the food in my lunchbox!”

—

VI. SPEAKING TRUTHFULLY, YOU’RE THE ONE FOR ME

“i missed you.”

you giggle. “you look drunk.”

you hold jungkook’s cheeks in the palm of your hands, and he revels in the comforting warmth radiating from them.

he closes his eyes with a toothy grin. “i’m exhausted.”

“then go to sleep!”

“i don’t want to!”

he opens one eye, peeking at you.

“i came here so you won’t have to tire yourself out more going to my place.” you pout. “why do you hate resting?”

“this is me resting,” he says as a matter of fact, leaning down to give your lips a peck. “you are my rest.”

while it may be true that his body is begging for sleep, his mind is willing him to stay awake for as long as he can. he likes that he has nothing to prove here; he can simply be. you’re softly tracing his skin, forming constellations from the moles on his face, and he knows they’re created out of pure wonder and love.

“this one’s so cute!” you gush. “nobody talks about it enough.”

you place an affectionate kiss on the mole at the bridge of his nose.

“maybe because nobody has noticed it but you.”

you roll your eyes. “as if i’m the only one who spends their free time looking at your face.”

“but you’re the one who can view me in the highest quality.” he brings his face a little closer to tease you; noses almost brushing. “no one else can have me this close.”

“that’s right. or else you will never have me this close again.”

you squint your eyes at him as a threat; a frown making a permanent residence on your lips. fuck, when is he not thinking about kissing you?

“aigoo, look at you sulking!” he exclaims with a laugh.

“i’m not!”

“okay, whatever you say.” he replies in a sing-song voice.

it’s silent for a few beats as he engulfs you in his embrace. he feels like he’s being recharged, and with that comes along the overdue acknowledgement of his exhaustion. he meant it when he said that you are his rest.

“you know, i can’t help but to wonder sometimes.”

there is an undertone of hesitance in the way you spoke which is not typical of you. this prompts him to draw back a little, just enough to get a good look of your face.

“wonder about?”

“i’m not trying to put myself down or anything like that, by the way. i’m not expecting you to say the right thing or whatever either. i’m just-”

you pause, teeth nervously biting your lip. his heart aches in an instant when you avoid his eyes.

“i’m just genuinely curious? and saying what’s on my mind.”

“what is it?” he juts out his bottom lip. “you’re scaring me.”

“it’s not a big deal!”

“go on then. i’m listening.”

“i mean, i know i’m a catch, and- and i have a lot to offer, and i’m special in my own way. but you have a lot of…” you blink, trying to find the right term. “options.”

the word alone causes distaste to morph in his facial expression.

“okay, okay, i know! ugh, i don’t know how else to say it. but you have these beautiful and amazing people throwing themselves at you and sometimes i’m flabbergasted that you actively reject them for me.”

“baby, what are you even saying-”

“i’m serious. there are girls i would’ve totally gone for!”

“but they’re not you!”

he tilts your chin, smiling when at last, he recaptures your wide-eyed gaze.

“it’s really as simple as that.”

“but when we weren’t official yet-”

“i liked you from the start, if i didn’t make that obvious enough.”

you scrunch your cute nose; a smile of pure giddiness starting to form on your face. “you did… i knew.”

“i can’t believe you’re thinking about things like that. i only have eyes for you, baby. do you remember the first fight we had, huh? remember how i got drunk and cried?”

he doesn’t particularly like to relive the trauma and consequences of receiving unsolicited… almost naked… photos of an acquaintance while he’s watching a silly youtube video on his phone with his significant other. anything can be fixed in a relationship if both parties exert the effort, but trust, it is almost impossible to rebuild.

she didn’t know he was, is, in a relationship. in general, no one outside his inner circle really expects him to be in a relationship, or at least be in one that is serious or long-term. because, well, where would he find the time and energy for that kind of stuff?

but keeping you as a secret was his way of protecting you, and if you were hurting because of that, you didn’t show it.

oh, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t mad.

you needed some time to clear your head, you said. ignored his texts and phone calls; shooed him away when he begged at your front door. that issue may already been resolved, but he’s still not done proving that he’s solely committed to you.

you’re one of the most important people in his life. he loves you and he tends to get worried that you will never know much.

you gasp, hitting his chest. “when did that happen?!”

“why are you shocked…?” he narrows his eyes. “you didn’t know?”

“how would i know?”

he scratches his head in confusion. he should probably stop talking at this point and not dig his own grave, but his honesty leads him on. “…didn’t taehyungie-hyung send you a video? or did i make that up in my head?”

he immediately regrets it when the sparkle of mischief appears in your eyes.

“he’s still awake, right?”

“actually, he sleeps early nowadays!”

you wiggle out of his embrace, playfully sticking out your tongue at him. “i’ll go get the copy from him right now.”

“it was so long ago. it’s probably deleted by now!”

“wouldn’t hurt to check.”

“baby, no! it’s embarrassing!” he attempts to pull you back, but his hands barely reach you. “let’s just go to sleep, hm? didn’t you come here to put me to sleep?”

“aw, my love…”

he melts when you gingerly stroke his hair too. he will never live it down if his friends witnessed you babying him and him loving it.

“just close your eyes.”

and with your hand obstructing his vision, he sees pitch black and floating spots and flecks.

“i’ll be back in a minute! mwah!”

but despite his sense of sight being taken away, he still feels you spring off the mattress. the weight of your feet against the floor resonates along with the shout of your name as he follows you out of his bedroom.

you squeal in panic when you realize that you’re being chased. “go back to bed!”

“i won’t unless you go back with me!”

this is one of the instances in which jungkook is grateful for his gifts of athletic prowess and long limbs.

with little to no effort, he overtakes you in the race towards taehyung’s bedroom. doe eyes akin to a deer caught in the headlights, he swings the door open.

taehyung’s eyes flicker up from his phone. he’s frankly not surprised about the intrusion, not after hearing the commotion outside.

“need anything?”

“all the videos you have of him drunk!”

“hyung, no! you can’t give it!”

—

VII. THE CHOICE TO STAY

“give it to me.”

the blanket that jungkook carried from the bedroom is snatched away from his hands. it becomes unfurled and thrown over to shield your shivering vessel from the cold. without a word, he crawls on the couch and under the blanket, hugging you from behind as you catch up on your ongoing tv shows.

relief… he’s been looking forward to this all day.

the tension in his muscles, from head to toe, begin to fade away, especially as you take his hand in yours so you can give it a chaste kiss. it’s quick, but long enough for him to feel the softness of your lips. his hug tightens. he remains silent as he inhales, and exhales, slow and calm. he’s not trying to fall asleep as much as trying to shut down his brain. they say the world has stopped but from his point of view, it has erupted into chaos and he has no other choice but to watch it fall apart and to attempt to rebuild it at the same time. god knows he is doing the best he can but it feels like his best will never not be lacking.

jungkook is scared, and he is more scared knowing that everyone else is too. but for the past two years, whether you’re whole or broken, whether he’s climbing or falling— it never made a difference. you’ve always stayed.

he finds comfort in knowing that he has this constant among the ominous unknown.

his little firefly; your light won’t go out even as the world lets out its final sigh.

“my love, why are you sad?”

you flipped to your other side when another commercial break rolled in; now you’re hovering over him, curious eyes studying every inch of his face.

“is my love hurt anywhere?” you coo. “where should i kiss?”

his body shakes with quiet laughter as you pepper his face with kisses, trailing down to his jaw until you reach the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“or do you want a massage? here? know you had a looong day.”

“really? how’d you know?”

“yeah, ‘cause you haven’t showered. you’re all stinky.”

“oh, am i?” he playfully pinches your waist, which you react to with a drawn out whine. “and yet you’re still cuddling with me.”

“so? do you need my massage therapy services or not?!”

“no. i only need my lover, please.” he pleads with droopy eyelids, emphasizing his request by tangling his limbs with yours.

he can’t hide from you like he hides from himself. you’re much more gentler with his heart than he is; unconciously, he trusts you more with it.

“you have me. what’s wrong?”

your hands anchored on the sofa are swept away as he pulls you closer, your weight crashing down on him entirely. he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your natural scent and the lavender in your body wash.

“eh, it’s just work… everything that could go wrong is going wrong. we’re trying to figure things out, but what can we do really…? there’s nothing. i- this-this whole thing is just so fucking frustrating, baby. i’m sorry.”

“it’s not just work! it’s your reason for living. of course this is frustrating and painful for you. it’s understandable to feel that way.”

he can practically hear you pouting. he is proven right when you lift your head, leaning in to give him a kiss. he smiles against your lips. he loves you so much.

“so please don’t burn yourself out trying to be okay. you have me by your side who can help you carry your burdens.”

it was scary at the beginning, but now it only feels right. it is impossible not to love you with all of his heart and soul; you deserve nothing less and more than what he can give. when you hug him, he hugs you back tighter.

“you’re my reason to live too.”

“i shouldn’t be. what if i die before you?”

“yah, don’t says things like that!” he scolds you faster than he can think, eyebrows knitted together and frown a tad deeper. “you won’t. it won’t happen.”

“i will die eventually.” you grimace.

“please don’t say such things as ‘i want you to move on and meet someone else and fall in love again and remarry.’ i don’t want to hear it!” he rambles so fast that he doesn’t even understand himself, stumbling and lisping. “i will seriously cry!”

“oh, i don’t care for things like that.”

you make yourself more comfortable; your boyfriend as your own personal bed. sleeping on top of him has been a natural occurence these days, not that he minds. you’re so soft and warm. it’s like hugging a stuffed toy to sleep. still, he’s mindful of you falling off the couch again.

“do whatever you like.” your eyes meet as you bestow him with a smile. “i’ll be dead; i won’t even know what happens next.”

“you don’t care? huh…” he huffs over the hypothetical.

the mere consideration of it feels like cheating. he knows that it technically isn’t, but he can’t imagine spending the rest of his life with someone who isn’t you. nevertheless, if he was being honest and it was the other way around, he’d probably do tell you to leave your heart open. but the topic is not the other way around and jungkook’s heart is stubbornly bound to you.

“why am i getting upset?”

“i don’t care because i’m confident.” you say candidly. “you can fall in love with someone else, but no one will ever love you the way that i do.”

ah, and here comes a side of you that he knows and loves. he swears that cupid is in the room and his heart was just hit by another one of his arrows. it feels so good to be loved so fearlessly.

“i know, so why even bother?” he arrives at a conclusion to his defense, but there’s a much better solution. “please never ever leave me so i won’t have to deal with this dilemma.”

he catches you roll your eyes before he comes face-to-face with the back of your head. your cheek rests on top of his chest; he feels it above his beating heart.

“what then? are we supposed to die together?”

he hums in thought. “it’s not a totally bad idea. we live together, so wouldn’t that make sense too?”

“wow, very shakespearean of you.”

“oh, that’s right! see? isn’t this your type of thing? let’s do it!”

“oh my god, you’re so stupid.” you hide your face behind your hand, giggling in disbelief of the sharp turn this conversation took.

jungkook loves making you laugh. for a little while, he forgets everything else. the world outside may be terrifying but you have your own in your shared apartment. you’re his reason to live too. you ignite the life in his veins. you kiss him with an appetite for passion and love and he enters heaven on earth.

“thank you.” you mumble against his lips.

“thank you?”

“for loving me, for living with me…” your voice wavers and his heart drops to his stomach. he can hold back his tears, but never when he sees yours flowing. “even when you’re tired and having a hard time.”

“you make it sound like a chore, but the truth is loving you gives me the strength to work hard everyday. you do know that, right? baby?” he strokes your hair tenderly, hoping that you receive his sincerity. “i should be the one thanking you… i should say it more often. you didn’t give up on loving me even when it was hurting you.”

“it’s all in the past… you were hurting too.” you reply in a faint whisper. “i love you.”

cupid must owe him a tremendous favor to have granted him the purest form of love a human being could have.

he plants a kiss on your forehead, noticing the rise of your shoulders. an endearing thing they occasionally do when you’re happy, shy, or flattered. it’s one of the many things he learned about you since you started living under the same roof.

he’s been learning about himself too. he tried saving you from himself but this fact is now well-established— you are the sun; it only hurts him to push you away because you’re in everything. it’s the little things that will haunt him if lost. when pieced together, they declare that you love him and he loves you.

the words i’m going home have gained more meaning and he’s excited to say them at the end of each day. he talks about his day and you talk about yours. you find out he’s the reason your lotion ran out too fast again and you chase him around the apartment until he promises to buy you the biggest bottle. you play rock-paper-scissors to figure out who will wash the dishes or receive the food from the delivery guy. you watch too many cooking videos on his phone until one of you falls asleep. most of the time it’s you. tonight, it’s still you.

he must confess that up to this day, he admires you when you sleep. you are safe and sound, and he is mended in places he did not know existed.

it’s time to sleep, he also decides.

he cocoons you in the blanket, then provides another layer of warmth which is his body. once settled, he closes his eyes, sighing in contentment. “what’s the use of our giant bed if we keep on sleeping on the couch?”

—

(?). AN ETERNAL RECORD: MY TREASURE, MY LOVE (ARCHIVED)

[DEC 25 ‘17 02:12AM]

“is it rolling?”

“yes, it’s rolling.”

you excitedly look at the film camera from the thick pile of snow on the ground, moving your arms up and down and your legs from side to side. an attempt to create a snow angel.

your giggles and the crackles of the snow are heard through the speaker.

the lens zoom in on your face.

childlike joy in the form of an everlasting smile and snowflakes on your hair.

“am i doing it?!”

“you are!”

“really?”

“really!”

“is it pretty?”

your face comes out of the frame. for a second only the white snow is seen, and then the dark brown of your coat as you skip towards the camera.

“let me watch!”

the camera shakes before it pans to the ground.

rustling of clothes and a shy, panicked voice.

“hold on- i-i’ll just fix the…”

“why?”

“huh, what do i do?” a forced laugh to mask nervousness. “i think it didn’t save-”

[darkbluekies]

what would ocs do if mc got arrested for speeding after trying to escape

Warnings: threats, handcuffs, chains, humiliation?, manipulation, gaslightning?

Silas:

He’ll have a field day with this one. He won’t even be mad as he walks into the jail, on the contrary — he’ll laugh. With his hands in his pockets, you trapped in front of him and having bailed you out, he can’t do anything but mock you. He’ll get into your cell and run his hand through your hair in a demeaning way. He loves to see you shrink under his touch. 

“My poor little idiot, I think you dropped something when you ran away from me. What, you ask? Your fucking brain. How stupid can one be to get caught by the cops? I’ve bailed you out, now let’s go home, I’ll teach you yet another lesson of what happens when you try to run away from me since the last five didn’t seem to work.”

Dr Kry: 

He’ll be able to convince the police to let him handle you. You’re clearly not well. You don’t need to go to jail, you need to be taken to a medical facility … like his hospital. He loves that you’re trying to tell the police that it’s where you ran away from … it only makes you look more and more insane. As soon as you come back to the hospital, he’ll keep you cuffed to the hospital bed and remove all of his personal stuff from the room.

“Now, now, don’t be sad. I’m not mad, just worried. We both know you weren’t fit to drive a car. You should be happy that you’re under my protection or you’d end up in prison for both speeding and stealing my car. You’re quite the little criminal, aren’t you, my dear? Now I have to keep you chained like this so you won’t repeat it. You could really hurt yourself, you know?”

King Edmund: (there are no cars in his timeline, a horse will do)

When a frantic horse rose through the village, the royal knights captured it quite quickly. When they saw who was on the horse, they nearly fainted. They kept you in a clean room for the king to come get you. He’ll come twenty minutes later in a carriage, holding a chain in his hands. He’s furious, you can tell. 

“What were you thinking stealing my horse and riding away like that?! I had been thinking about taking you for a horse ride in the forest, but now I don’t think that’ll ever happen. It seems like you can’t act right and because of that, I need to chain you. I can’t trust you. Try to move with this heavy chain around your feet and you’ll find that you won’t get so far. How unfortunate … seems like you’ll be spending summer indoors. Come now, my darling. Let’s see you walk with those chains out to the carriage.”

Jerry: 

She’ll be laughing as she bails you out. She’ll laugh all the way back to your home and somehow, it frightens you. She never laughs when you run away … so what’s different this time? It tells you that whatever you’ve done, it’s worse than all the other times you’ve escaped her clutches. As soon as you’re behind closed doors, she collects herself and grabs a fistful of your hair. 

“You’re in such big trouble, baby. I’m honestly impressed that you managed to sneak out and steal my car keys without me noticing, but don’t think it’ll happen again. I’m going to put up cameras and I’ll be able to watch your cute ass as often as I’d like. Hah, try to beat that, you little shit.”

Hedwig:

You’ll be bailed out in no time and have Hedwig’s arms around your waist like a suffocating corset. She’ll shower your face in kisses before pulling you out to a car — not the one you’ve gotten caught in. Her chauffeur will drive the two of you back to her mansion in silence. Hedwig will lead you up to her room and sit you down on the bed. Before you have the time to think, she has placed something around your ankle. 

“What? Oh, that’s a tracker. Honey, please listen, please. I can’t have you running around like that. We’re meant to be together, I know it. I’m just protective over you. What if you would have gotten in a car accident? You could have- … you could have died. So this is just for safety measures. I’ve told all the staff to report to me if you leave my room and they’ll do their best to keep you at home. I honestly don’t know what I would do if the police wouldn’t have caught you. Seems like there’s a benefit of your reckless driving after all …”

[choicesficwriterscreations]

September MC of the Month: Ria Monero

Please welcome September 2024's MC of the Month: @lover-also-fighter-also's Ria Monero

Each month, we highlight one MC or OC on our Meet My MC / OC List. They are selected randomly on the Wheel of Names, and eligibility requirements can be found here. We accept MC / OC profiles on an ongoing basis. Please feel free to send yours in!

Learn more about Ria below.

1- In your own words, tell us what you like most about your MC / OC.

My favorite thing about Ria is that she never gives up on anyone or anything she feels is right. She is resilient, determined and stronger than she thinks she is, and she never goes down without giving her 100 percent effort. Once she trusts a person, she will always be their best friend and is willing to do anything for them. When a friend is down, she does her best to cheer them up with a joke (even if it's a bad one—inspiration from her father). 

2- Do you feel your MC / OC is like you at all? How are you alike or different?

Well, Ria and I sometimes share the same inferiority complex: that we are not good enough or that we are not deserving of the love that we receive from people.But I wish that I had at least half of the inner strength and courage that she had while facing problems in her life.

3- What is most important to your MC / OC? What is their motivation in life?

To Ria, having a person that she can rely on and who accepts her positives and flaws is the most important thing. She has felt abandoned since she was a kid, and she makes it her motivation to make people see her for what she did and not judge her by her past.

4- What are their biggest pet peeves/dislikes?

Ria’s biggest pet peeve is not getting her ‘me time.’ Sure, she might have been popular and well-known after the events of Bk 3, but she needs her own private time, or she will turn cranky. Also, she is not a fan of rumors, especially if they are negative. She feels that people should mind their own business and not bother the other person unnecessarily. She has been on the other side of it, and the feeling is horrible.  

5- If your MC / OC could change one thing - anything - what would it be?

Teachers to keep student secrets private.

6- What is your MC / OC’s favorite quote or song?

Favorite songs: 

Single Ladies (Beyonce)

Mozart’s 16th Sonata (on Piano)

Until I Found You (Stephen Sanchez)

My favorite quote is: “You are the artist of your own life; don’t hand the paintbrush to anyone else.”

7- Is there anything else you’d like to share about your MC / OC?  

She was really sick as a kid, and she felt that it was the reason her mom left her. After getting numerous treatments and good therapy, she came to the terms that her illness was a part of her life, and she couldn’t change it. Once she got better, she made a point to live her life without any regrets or miss out on any experience. She wants to run, she wants to fly, she wants to fall down and get hurt, but she would never want to stop.  

[juicezone]

Hi! I'm TL, and I do agere/petre art requests! You can find my queue and open status on my header! Please read the rules below, thank you! It helps to reblog this to spread it around :D

you must obey the dni of this account. especially please do not request or reblog if you are k!nk, nsfw, generally not safe for kids. you will be blocked.

If reqs are closed, you may DM me and ask me to send you a message/heads up when I re-open then!

please be kind when asking :) these are not commissions, i am not required to do them!

if your request is something i’m not comfortable with doing, i’ll priv answer so you have the option of sending another if you’d like! (this is easiest to do if you're not on anon/you leave an @ of your sideblog! If it's a nameless anon, it's likely to just be deleted, sorry ^^'

please put separate requests in separate asks! IE: if you ask for Character from Fandom A and character from Fandon B, please send two asks! (Unless you want them together which is fine :P)

not a rule but feel free to give suggestions! IE: “Can you draw character with a green paci” or “can you draw character as a fox pet-regressor?” or “can you draw character and character as cg + regressor?” "character in a dip" (just make sure to specify who is who!) Honestly, detail helps a lot with being able to draw and do the req!! (NEW 4/28) I will draw stuff like characters being upset, crying, ect. I'll draw characters in dips but atm i'm not necessarily comfortable drawing accidents themselves (unfortunately, i had a problem with one post i made + deleted being basically immediately snapped up by unsavory blogs ): so)

I’d prefer to not draw your persona/sona/ect! I don’t mind drawing in a “blank/YN” type character, but I no longer would like to draw personas/sonas/ect. Sorry! (NOTE: THIS IS EXEMPT FOR FRIENDS LET ME DRAW YOUR AGERE OCS/INSERT SO BAD)

Requests may take a while! I work 30-40 hrs a week on top of being a full time student. I might get it done immediately, it might get done in three months or longer. Usually I do them in order, but not always! If you come into my inbox and repeatedly ask abt it (esp if ur rude) i will delete it. and i will block you.

FANDOMS I'LL DO

I'll do most any media! It's REALLY best to just ask me!! Bluey, MCYT (characters ONLY. *), Star Trek, Pokemon, FNAF, Warrior Cats, Nintendo, Disney - Honestly, it's best to just ask! As long as the media isn't primarily NSFW in the 18+ way, I probably don't mind! Complex chars like in Genshin Impact are fine as long as you're okay with me simplifying/putting them in different clothes (free free to request them in diff clothes even!!)

*Will not do dsmp at this time. May do people related to DSMP (ie philza for ex [i think? i dont know the people of that group]) but i will not do: Wilbur/soot or d/ream.

FANDOMS I WON'T DO

Harry Potter, Hetalia, IRL People (as in the Content Creator - see below for more detail), Attack on Titan, Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss, Country humans/Country balls/Anything based off the countries, Rick and Morty TBA

ABOUT IRL PEOPLE

Will do: MCYT for example! Because my design is based off their MC skin. It's like actors v their characters if that makes sense Won't do: Things like Sanders Side or Marki/plier ego stuff, because it's like. there's nothing there for referencing other than the literal person. idk its hard to explain TLDR: thats just my comfort level sorry ^^''

[hana-no-seiiki]

A Quick question My beloved god~!

How do you feel about pathetic yanderes? Like pathetic yanderes that has power (wealth, influence and all that shit) but acts pathetically towards their darling?

Cuz even tho I'm a bottom (obviously cuz i can't pull off being a top ;-;) pathetic yanderes just bring out a different side of me

I would love to see them beg and cry and it's just so adorable??? Cuz pathetic yanderes are oddly endearing even tho they're fucking pathetic and disgusting

UGH I EAT THAT SHIT UP THEY'RE SO SO SO CUTE THAT I WANNA MAKE THEM CRY EVEN MORE!!

(You can ignore this if you feel like it's kinda too much lol and apologies for being kinda redundant)

also no not cute but

Breathtakingly Adorable~ <3

- Your Junie~

PATHETIC/RICH YANDERE SCENARIO (GENDER NEUTRAL READER & YANDERE)

“PRETTY PINK PRINCESS : GOOD FOR YOU”

⚠️ By pressing the Keep Reading button you’re confirming that you’re above 18 and consent to reading dark content.

A pathetic, rich yandere? Isn’t that just me— (also im just gonna ignore that last part for my wellbeing-)

Pathetic Yanderes can be a top. Usually if you’re from a rich (asian) family there’s just a lot of drama. Like you’d think everyone loves eachother so much and everything is peaceful but once the family dinner ends the treachery begins. So they’d have to be confident, assertive and sociable to survive that kind of environment.

You know the kind that’s super headstrong whenever they’re with anyone else but you.

Your ask kinda reminds me of my ocs Crisanto Salvador and Isabel Labrador (the dors really do be the biggest masochists of Midnight Darling). While Isabel is a hard sub that’s a brat, Crisanto doesn’t even hide how down horrid he is for MC. He fell in love with her because she threw away a Birkin Bag he used to court her.

Boy has got connections 💅🏻 ✨

He can get you anywhere and everywhere. He can also get you out from any and every situation you might not want to find yourself in.

But yes back to Pathetic + Rich Yandere! I can see them ordering all manners or surveillance. They’ll take the time to survey your routine (or have someone else do it) and plan out what to do from then on. If you go outside regularly then they’ll have “bodyguards” set, if you’re more of a homebody then they’ll have cameras installed in every corner of your house whenever no one’s at home.

They’re your biggest career hyper. They will get you to whatever position you want in life. While Pathetic Yan will be practicing their at home spouse skills just for you.

(Ignore this if you’re ace) The biggest challenge however is practicing how they’re supposed to satisfy you in bed. Making do with someone else is an absolute no no. Besides, you might have a different preference entirely.

So oh well, what else could they do but kidnap you?

What do you mean they could have courted you first? They couldn’t even fathom breathing the same air as you for too long in fear that they may have a heartattack. This was the only way, you see!

But don’t worry, they’ll be the best partner you could ever look for. They just have practice not getting so aroused when you look straight at them all the time. It’s hard to focus on feeding you like that after all!

Pathetic Yandere loves to wear pink fight me. Pastels everywhere. They’re massive Rococo/Baroque interior design fanatics. Stickers are everywhere. They have a whole ass bookshelf dedicated to their sticker collection.

In bed they have cute ribbons for bondage prepared. It doesn’t do much by way of keeping you still, but boy does it look so adorable on you!

At least one person is gonna be full to the brim by the end of this, might as well make the act aesthetic.

Noisy as hell when having sex, they just have to voice how they feel about you, yknow? Shutting them up is close to impossible. And of course, tears! Lots of it. One might say they kinda look like they’re in pain sometimes from how much they mewl.

Their bed is the softest one you’ve ever been on. You find out that it’s from one of those high end Swedish brands that make em out of horse hair.

You’re tempted to stay just for that reason.

“ Never leave me okay? I promise I’ll be good for you ♡ ”

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

[yuikomorii]

am I the only one who thinks that Yui/MC is just a stand in for the player? like, her personality is tame and vanilla, enough so that anyone willing could fit into her position quite easily. Not forgetting to mention you can change the MC's name in the games, and she has no voice in the games. And because that there is no canon ship in otome games in general, because who the MC ends up with depends on who the player wants her/themselves to be with (in Ayato's case, it's only that he's like the standard, the poster boy). So, ever since it came out, I've been in the fandom: I've played all the games, read the manga, interviews, and everything, and especially the drama CDs (which make you feel as if they're talking to *you*), and I came to this conclusion. So you learn particular things of the MC/Yui, for example, her preferences that shape her as an independent character, e.g., having her own quotes, her merch, but still, she just gives me that impression. *This is why I also find Yui-bashing to be ridiculous; after all, her character is basically built to be subdued, so the players can fit in her shoes*— is what I think. Thank you for listening. I really do want your (non biased) thoughts, for this has been bothering me for quite a while, :)

// I honestly believe all heroines are made to be a stand in for the player, because that’s how otome games work.

Yui is a 2012 heroine, therefore it makes sense why she doesn’t have as much uniqueness or personality as newer ones. Nevertheless, I would like to point out that a bunch of Japanese players DON’T actually relate to her that much. They mostly like her because she’s cute and dumb, and they find that entertaining.

On the other hand, there are a lot of avid otoge players who find her too “stupid and mean” for a heroine. I agree with the stupid part, but despite her moments of random bitchiness, I don’t find her as bad as they say. Yet, maybe they played more otome games than me, so their expectations are higher.

I wouldn’t really call her tame or vanilla though. She’s also one of the thirstiest heroines imo, given that she keeps thinking about wanting more sex even after doing it a few hours ago and so on. There’s also an ending in which she cheats for pleasure and then starts being happy when getting railed as a punishment, therefore she might seem innocent, but there are a lot of kinky things going on inside her head. :”)

Other than that, I agree that she appears as a quite plain character, but it can’t be helped, since the LI’s are the ones made to stand out more through their writing in otome games. To me she’s fun, but she might come off as not flashed out to others, which is to be expected from a heroine.

I also agree with you when it comes to the CD dramas and interviews talking about the player, instead of Yui as a whole, because those are supposed to be the most “yume” materials. Rejet confirmed Ayato as the mainstay of the story in some books and magazines, which means that in the official universe, he ends up with Yui, but this doesn’t mean people can’t ship themselves with him or can’t replace Yui with themselves. My friend has an OC and she used to post screenshots of some routes, yet a lot of people kept asking her stuff such as: “Do you hate Yui?” or “Why do you never talk about Yui?” only because the sprite was turned off and the name was changed.

People should let others go through their own otoge experience. After all, otome games were produced like that for a reason. If you want to play as the heroine, that’s good and valid! If you want to play as yourself or your OC, that’s just as good and valid!

[kingofbodyrolls]

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

🐴Chapter summary: with Jessi in a wheelchair you’ve taken on every task around the ranch, and finally realize how hard it is to run. But it’s a welcomed escape from Jimin, though it doesn’t help when Jungkook tries to push you two together again. 🐴Chapter title: Love You, Hate You 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: mention of blood from a head wound, some blood from a cow giving birth and otherwise the standard angst and angriness. Yep, sorry again 😭 Things will somewhat start to look up in the next chapter!! ☀️ And if you feel like you need a reminder where the story is heading, read this spoiler 🫶 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 9.5k

🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @antisocial-mochi267,

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

🐴Now playing 💿 “Love You, Hate You” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: I really feel like I’m putting my characters through hell 😂 I really do feel bad for Jimin and MC — but we’re almost there!!!! (also, when do you think one of them will snap and finally talk to each other???). 

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

wanna read a teeny tiny teaser for the next chapter? [here]

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

“Hate you, love you, want you and I need you It’s not easy It makes me cry Need you, want you, hate you Love you, need you, want you Gotta go, say goodbye, say goodbye” - ‘Love you, Hate you’ by Rebecca Lavelle

Once more, Jungkook propels the car with an urgency that flirts with recklessness, yet you refrain from voicing concern. The unspoken agreement between you acknowledges his competence behind the wheel. Witnessing the transformation, his tears replaced by a steely resolve as he assumes control, leaves you in awe. The shift in his focus is palpable, a laser-sharp intensity that cuts through the emotional haze.

The familiar road unravels beneath the wheels, leaving a veil of dust in the truck’s turbulent wake. Your gaze fixates on the passing landscape, a silent witness to the gravity of the night. The realization dawns that informing the girls is not just a practical idea; it’s a lifeline to assuage their likely anguish. Retrieving your phone from the snug pocket of your jeans, you declare your intention, fingers poised to bridge the distance between uncertainty and reassurance. “Just gonna inform the girls.”

Jungkook nods, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on the road ahead. You embark on a mission, fingers dialing Soo-ah’s number with a determined precision. The phone ascends to your ear, the ensuing silence pregnant with the unspoken gravity of the message you’re about to deliver. 

The moment Soo-ah’s voice resonates through the phone, an undertone of anxiety and fear punctuates the connection, mirroring the collective uncertainty that binds you all. “Jessi’s been in a car accident, and we’re en route to the hospital,” you disclose, your voice carrying the weight of recent tears. However, amid the distress, you impart a tentative reassurance, “She’s alive, but there’s something off—her words were slurred. I think she hit her head. But we will know more when we get to the hospital.” 

Turning to Jungkook, you observe the fierce determination etched in the pallor of his knuckles, a testament to the vice-like grip on the wheel. Traces of dried tears mar his cheeks, a visual echo of the emotional tempest that has swept through him. In that moment, a palpable lump lodges itself in your throat, an involuntary response to the profound vulnerability laid bare in the silent interplay of clenched fists and tear-stained faces. 

The remainder of the journey unfolds in stifling silence, the cabin suffused with an unspoken tension that hangs thick in the air. The specter of fear, like an insidious intruder, stealthily reclaims its place within the confines of your bones. 

Anxiety courses through you—for Jessi’s well-being, for the unknown revelations awaiting, for the uncertain terrain that stretches beyond. The all-encompassing fear becomes an insidious force, its weight rendering the atmosphere within the confined space utterly paralyzing.

The hospital materializes on the horizon, a beacon of both hope and trepidation. Jungkook, propelled by urgency, deftly navigates the maze of parking spaces, abruptly silencing the truck’s ignition before catapulting out of the vehicle with a sense of purpose. 

In tandem, you and Jungkook storm into the emergency department, urgency pulsating with every step. As you approach the desk, a receptionist greets you with a smile—her eyes, pools of warmth and empathy, mirroring the softness of her welcoming expression. 

“We’re looking for Jessi,” Jungkook declares, a pillar of tension leaning against the elevated desk. 

The receptionist’s nod is both swift and affirmative, a reassuring beacon in the sea of apprehension. “Room 134340,” she utters, the numeric sequence hanging in the air like a lifeline. 

In unison, you and Jungkook practically bolt towards the imposing doors, a shared urgency propelling you forward. The corridor becomes a labyrinth of tension as you navigate the sea of room numbers, each passing moment marked by the thunderous cadence of your hearts echoing within your chests. 

Please let her be okay.

At last, the numbers the receptionist shared come into view, and with a delicate touch, you ease the door open, unveiling a serene image—Jessi, reclined on the bed in peaceful sleep. Your gaze lingers on her slumbering form, taking in the telltale signs of the ordeal she endured—bandages encircling her head, a cast cradling her right arm, and another enveloping her left leg. 

The scene before you paints a grim reality, a tapestry of injuries that whispers tales of struggle. Yet, in the midst of this stark portrayal, the ember of relief flickers—she’s alive. 

A lump lodges in your throat once more, and with teardrops poised in the corners of your eyes, you approach your sister. Jungkook follows in your wake, settling on the bed. Leaning in, he tenderly caresses her cheek, mirroring the gentle touch that first bridged the gap between his fingers and her skin at the scene of the accident. 

Your gaze lingers, capturing the rivulets of tears tracing Jungkook’s expressive contours once more. In the soft luminescence of the room, his eyes shimmer with a profound mixture of emotion, fixated on your sister. 

A hush descends as the door swings open, ushering in a figure clad in the sterile garb of a doctor. Your attention pivots, fixating on this harbinger of information. 

“Hello. Are you Jessi’s family?” The doctor’s gaze oscillates between you and Jungkook, and your response is encapsulated in a silent nod. Words seem to elude you once more.

“Yeah, This is her sister, and I’m her friend,” Jungkook affirms, his voice carrying a burdened undertone that hints at the unspoken complexities and tensions simmering beneath the surface—an emotional undercurrent that has woven its threads through the past weeks. 

The doctor’s nod carries a weighty reassurance as he imparts the diagnosis. “Alright. Jessi has a minor concussion; the impact against the steering wheel caused some bleeding. She’s also dealing with a broken arm and leg, along with a few bruised ribs. Thankfully, that’s the extent of her injuries,” he imparts. 

“When can she come home?” Jungkook’s voice, simultaneously textured with rough edges and a tender timbre, resonates in the room. He reaches for Jessi’s hand—the one untouched by the cast—infusing the question with an unspoken urgency and a touch of vulnerability. 

“As a precaution due to the concussion, we’d like to keep her under observation for a day or two. After that, you can take her home. However, she’ll need to use a wheelchair, and rest is absolutely crucial,” the doctor informs you, leaving a weighty prescription for recovery in the air. With that, he departs, leaving the two of you alone with Jessi, still in the embrace of a healing slumber. 

Your gaze locks onto Jungkook, and as Jessi’s fingers stir against his, a soft gasp escapes you. Jungkook, attuned to the subtle movements, shifts his attention to your sister’s face. Her eyes, a slow dance of reawakening, flutter open, and she casts a weary but genuine smile at both of you. “Hi,” she utters, and the simplicity of that greeting carries a profound weight, a testament to resilience and the indomitable spirit that endures even in the face of adversity.

A shared chuckle resonates between you and Jungkook, but he takes the lead, concern etched in his question, “How are you holding up?” 

“Everything fucking hurts,” she confesses, the words escaping through gritted teeth, and a wince that lingers in the air. 

As you observe, her speech is no longer marred by slurs, and a glimmer of hope flickers within you. Offering a gentle smile, you cling to this positive sign, a fragile beacon of recovery in the aftermath of the accident. 

“We were worried there for a second,” you admit with a smile, your heart still tethered to the lingering uneasiness. 

“I’m fine. I’m gonna be fine,” she reassures with a languid smile, her eyes retaining a drowsy allure. 

Jungkook continues to tenderly stroke her hand, a lone tear betraying his emotion as it slips from the corner of his eye. 

“Why are you crying?” Jessi inquires in a weary tone, her question carrying a subtle mix of curiosity and fatigue. The fatigue in her tone, juxtaposed with the curiosity in her eyes, creates a moment of vulnerability and curiosity, inviting the reader to delve deeper into the emotional intricacies of the scene.

“Because you look so bad,” he chuckles through a teasing sob, a bittersweet smile dancing on his lips as he attempts to lighten the heavy atmosphere with a touch of humor. 

Jessi scuffs, “If I could slap ya, I would,” she drags out, a playful smirk tugging at her lips, “Sis, can you do it for me?” 

You shake your head, a fond smile playing on your lips as you observe their usual teasing banter. Despite the ordeal, the fact that she can still summon her playful spirit brings a sense of relief, a small but reassuring glimmer in the midst of uncertainty.

Your laughter lingers in the air, but a subtle sadness creeps into your voice as you inquire, “What happened?” 

She groans, eyes rolling in frustration as she recounts, “There was this red car that appeared out of nowhere in the turn, driving on the wrong side of the road.” 

Your eyes widen with concern, a gasp escaping your lips. “What happened to the red car? Did it just drive off?” 

“Managed to dodge the car, but ended up colliding with a damn tree instead,” she says, a hint of frustration in her tone. 

“And to top it off, the guy just speeds away like nothing happened!” she scoffs, her irritation palpable and echoing the injustice of the situation.

“Do you have any idea who that was?” Jungkook demands, a mix of curiosity and sternness in his gaze, his fist clenching at his side as if ready to confront the reckless driver.

“Some arrogant city slicker. Never seen that car around here. Clearly not a local,” she scoffs, disdain dripping from her words as she curses the reckless driver.

“Can you call Namjoon for me?” she suddenly requests, locking eyes with you. You find yourself curious about why she specifically wants to talk to Namjoon at this moment.

When you shoot her a quizzical look, she adds, “I want to tell him something.”

“Can’t it wait?” you counter, not quite grasping why it’s so urgent for her to speak with Namjoon right now.

“No.” 

Fine. You reluctantly pull out your phone and dial Namjoon. Describing the situation, you implore him to come as soon as possible, and he assures you he’ll be there swiftly.

As the minutes tick by in the hushed room, the tension thickens, yet an unspoken understanding binds you, Jessi, and Jungkook together. Silence reigns, pregnant with the weight of shared concern, creating a strangely comforting atmosphere.

The hospital doors burst open, revealing a disheveled Namjoon sprints in, clutching a bouquet of flowers. His eyes scan the room, taking in the sight of your sister lying on the bed, and his breath catches in a mix of relief and worry.

His voice laced with concern, Namjoon places the bouquet on the bedside table, his eyes fixed on your sister. “It looks bad. Are you okay?” he inquires, his worry echoing in the sterile hospital room.

“Fuck you. I’m fine,” she retorts, a smirk playing on her lips. The room fills with laughter, and seizing the moment, you gesture to the couch on the other side of the room, silently signaling to give Jessi and Namjoon some space. Jungkook rises from the bed, joining you on the couch.

Without a hint of preamble or consideration for the weight of her words, Jessi suddenly declares, “I want to break up.” Her words echoing through the room with a weight that sends a jolt through both you and Jungkook. You exchange a glance, realizing you’ve stumbled upon a moment too intimate for your presence.

Namjoon wears a puzzled expression, questioning, “Are you sure about this? Is it the concussion talking?” 

Definitely, she shakes her head.  “No, my mind is crystal clear.”

Regret lingers in her eyes as she confesses, “I’m sorry, but I can’t be with you anymore. I want to break up.” Her gaze, tinged with sadness, speaks volumes as she nervously bites her lip, the weight of her decision palpable in the room.

Namjoon nods thoughtfully, “Okay. No hard feelings. I understand.” His gaze shifts to Jungkook, a hint of unspoken understanding passing between them. “You can always call me—whether it’s just to talk or if one of the animals gets sick. Friends?” The air seems to lighten with the sincerity of his words.

“Friends,” she breathes out, the words carrying the weight of a burden lifted from her heart. Her gratitude spills forth, a sincere “And thank you, Namjoon,” echoing in the room.

She shares a smile with him, and his response mirrors the sentiment. From your perch on the couch, the intimacy of their moment feels oddly intrusive, and you can’t shake the sense of being an unintended witness to the delicate unraveling of their relationship.

Namjoon pivots, offering a parting nod and a soft farewell before gracefully exiting the room.

As his presence fades, you exhale the breath you’d been clutching, the room finally free from tension. “Well, that was uncomfortable.”

Jessi chuckles, seemingly unfazed by the awkwardness you just witnessed, her laughter echoing through the room.

You rise to your feet, stretching your tired body, and with a gentle tone, you ask, “Do you want to head home now, Kook?”

Jungkook remains seated on the couch, exchanging a meaningful glance with your sister. “I was actually thinking about staying and bringing her home tomorrow,” he says, his voice carrying a quiet determination.

Your eyes flicker open, but you quickly compose your expression, offering them both a gentle smile. “I’ll call Soo-ah to come pick me up then,” you say, your voice carrying a mix of understanding and reassurance.

Jessi doesn’t possess a single bone wired for relaxation. Despite the doctors’ earnest advice to take it slow and steady, does she heed it? Absolutely not.

With determined grit, she maneuvers the wheelchair around the house with one hand, attempting to shoulder every task single-handedly, only to find herself faltering at each turn.

In her quest for a simple glass of water, disaster struck – the glass slipped from her grasp, dancing precariously on the edge of destruction before miraculously escaping the fate of shattered fragments.

Your sister’s unwavering stubbornness has sparked numerous discussions, leaving you weary from the incessant cycle of repeating yourself.

“Why can’t you just stay put and let me handle it?” you groan at her futile attempt to set the dinner table. Exasperated, you snatch the plate from her hand and expertly arrange it on the table.

You’ve relocated all her belongings to the guest room, a practical move given her current inability to navigate the stairs. It’s a convenience for everyone, yourself included.

Exasperated, you burst out, “Sit your ass down!”

Her laughter rings through the room as she retorts, “I am sitting.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at her playful defiance.

Kneeling down, your eyes lock onto hers, a plea in your gaze. “I can take care of everything for you. Pushing yourself too hard will only slow down your recovery. Is that what you really want?”

Her gaze shifts away, words escaping in a soft mumble, their meaning lost in the air between you.

“What was that?”

Her response is a defiant whisper, almost a rebellion against her own vulnerability. “No. I don’t want that. Fine. You can do everything. It’s just not in my nature to let everybody do everything for me.”

When you told your sister you could handle everything on the ranch, little did you anticipate the relentless demands that awaited. Now, sweat beads roll down your hairline, and sticky shirts cling to your fatigued body—your new normal. Soreness and exhaustion threaten to overcome you, yet you persist. The unwavering support of Soo-ah, Ara, and Ha-rin becomes your lifeline, and you find yourself profoundly grateful for their presence. Without them, the daunting tasks ahead would be impossible.

Despite the relentless physical and mental demands, there’s an undeniable love that fuels your every effort. It’s in the rhythmic cadence of working with the horses, the joy of discovering ripe veggies in the garden, the satisfaction of feeding the cattle and horses. Cleaning the stable, tending to the yard, and meticulously fixing the fences become more than just chores—they’re threads woven into the tapestry of a passion that now defines you.

As if the outside challenges weren’t enough, the list of tasks inside the house seems never-ending—cleaning, organizing, tackling taxes, and conjuring up dinners that dance on the taste buds. The sheer magnitude of it all makes you marvel at Jessi’s ability to juggle these responsibilities, leaving you to wonder how she navigates this intricate dance without succumbing to the relentless rhythm of exhaustion.

In the whirlwind of responsibilities, Jungkook offers to lend his hands in fixing one of the fences on your property.

The anticipation of Jungkook’s assistance becomes a beacon of relief in your hectic schedule, and a mischievous thought flits through your mind—wondering if you could sweet-talk him into tackling the entire task, granting you a rare and much-needed moment of respite.

In the driver’s seat of your brand-new pickup truck, a lustrous shade of dark purple that gleams in the sunlight, you reflect on its arrival, replacing the ghost of the white one marred by Jessi’s unfortunate accident. The former wreck, irreparably damaged, made way for this sleek, modern model, boasting enhanced comfort that transforms every drive into a genuine pleasure.

As you turn the key in the ignition, the hum of the engine beneath you, and shift the truck into first gear, anticipation courses through you. The Eastern paddock awaits, its fence in need of repair, and Jungkook has promised to join you. The radio provides a lively soundtrack, and you find yourself singing along with joy, only to fall into a hushed silence as the familiar silhouette of a blue truck comes into view, neatly parked beside the fence.

Cursing under your breath, frustration seizes you as you realize Jungkook— that damn traitor, has sent his brother to handle the job he promised to do. 

The betrayal stings, especially considering the current strained terms between you and Jimin. Anger simmers within, escaping in a low, gritted scoff as you pull your car up beside Jimin’s.

Jimin dives into the task at hand, effortlessly measuring wire lengths and expertly cutting them to fit the fence. There’s no denying it, not that there ever was – Jimin is undeniably attractive. As you observe from the comfort of your car, your gaze lingers on his sweaty forehead, his biceps flexing beneath the rolled-up shirt. Another curse slips from your lips; why does he have to look this good?

A whirlwind of emotions courses through your veins – desire entangled with frustration. Jimin’s effect on your mind is infuriating. Yes, you still crave him, but the bitterness lingers. He chose someone else without engaging in a conversation about what transpired, a choice that feels painfully immature.

Relaxing your crossed arms, you swing the door open and step into the sweltering air. You circle the car to grab your tools and approach Jimin, who doesn’t bother to cast even a fleeting glance your way.

You scoff and roll your eyes. No greeting? This is a new low. You expected, at the very least, a bit of small talk. Seems like even that was too much to ask for.

“Hey, Jimin,” you say, attempting to mask the tension growing thick in the air. He remains silent, his focus fixed on his strong and calloused hands diligently working on the fence.

At least you’ve chosen to be the bigger person, maintaining your politeness. You dive into the task at hand, assisting him in measuring, cutting, and applying the new wire. The absence of conversation hangs heavy, a stifling silence that feels more like a heavy weight on your chest. It’s uncomfortable, this void between you two, and you can’t help but despise it with every fiber of your being.

In the suffocating silence, you realize that attempting conversation is futile, as he remains resolute in ignoring your every plea. Determined to endure the unbearable tension, you find yourself silently cursing Jungkook in your mind for orchestrating you into working with Jimin. There’s no question about it— you’ll have a serious talk with him later about this stupid plan of his!

Your hands accidentally collide with Jimin’s a few times, and the contact sends a jolt through you, a sensation you hastily withdraw from as if burned. The lingering touch awakens something buried deep within, a sentiment you’re determined to suppress. Those residual feelings must be banished, relegated to the recesses of your heart.

You can’t help but notice Jimin’s persistent gaze fixed upon you, and it’s disconcerting. The emotions swirling in the air are indescribable, leaving you puzzled about the cause of his intense scrutiny. Yet, the expression etched on his face is far from one of happiness or satisfaction; instead, it bears the weight of pain and unresolved sentiments.

The realization hits hard—there’s no denying it now. You and Jimin let your moment slip away, a truth that’s crystal clear now.

As a heavy sigh escapes your lips, you find yourself yearning for a past rewritten, a canvas of memories painted with different hues.

“It’s official!” 

In an exuberant burst of joy, you proclaim the moment, your voice echoing in giddy celebration as you sit on the grass. Beside you, Yoongi chuckles, and the tranquil scene unfolds with Holly and Marshmallow leisurely grazing on the grass.

Ecstatic, he declares, “We’re in business, baby!” His laughter resonates, and his radiant smile competes with the brilliance of the sun. You join in the laughter, though the pet name doesn’t quite sit right with you.

Playfully, you groan, “God, please don’t call me ’baby’,” as laughter continues to ripple between you. His response is a simple, hearty chuckle.

As the sun dips below the horizon, a serene quiet blankets the hilltop, providing a perfect backdrop to absorb the significance of the moment. You and Yoongi, now proud business owners of a wild horse gentling venture, revel in the excitement of the journey ahead. The prospect of working with more horses and bringing joy to people through these extraordinary animals fuels your anticipation.

With a hint of emotion in his voice, a touch of longing, Yoongi shares, “I’ve already found our inaugural customer.” Intrigued, you turn to face him, your eyes prompting him to reveal more about this exciting news.

With a weighted voice, laden with deep emotions, Yoongi reveals, “There’s a guy not far from us. He’s taken an interest in Holly.” Your gasp resonates with the dread that settles in—oh no, not Holly.

“But isn’t she yours to keep?” you ask, a tinge of sadness reflected in your eyes. Expectations of Yoongi keeping Holly for himself, the first horse you both worked on, echo in your question. The bond he shares with her seems uniquely special, so why part with her?

“I truly adore her, but she’s just a horse. And this is business,” he sighs, his voice carrying the weight of the decision as he gazes at the sunset. A lump forms in your throat, and tears well in your eyes. The thought of selling Mikrokosmos, your horse, feels almost impossible. She’s not just a business asset; she’s a part of you, and the idea of parting with her is heart-wrenching.

“Well, I hope she’ll love her new home,” you say with a bittersweet smile, gently shoving him playfully on the shoulder. The mixture of emotions swirls between you two, acknowledging the business aspect while secretly hoping Holly finds as much happiness in her new home as you both found in each other’s company.

“I hope so too,” he murmurs, his lips pressed into a tight line. The deep affection he holds for the horse is evident, and you sense the internal struggle he’s facing. This decision weighs on him, and you find yourself sharing in the silent understanding of the emotional complexity tied to their parting.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting hues of warm orange and pink across the sky, you remain on the hilltop, sharing the tranquil moment with your horses grazing beside you. In the company of Yoongi, your best friend, you reflect on the genuine bond that has grown between you. His presence is a comforting constant, a reliable listener, and a confidant you deeply appreciate.

In a moment of vulnerability, you confess, “You know... I’ve never really felt at home anywhere since I left the ranch.” The weight of emotions settles over you, and tears threaten to escape. 

Sensing your need for comfort, Yoongi turns to you, wrapping you in a gentle hug that speaks volumes without uttering a single word.

Amid the hues of the setting sun, Yoongi poses a poignant question, his voice laden with a mix of emotion and weariness. “Do you feel at home now?” he asks, and a soft chuckle escapes your lips, a response teeming with a complex blend of gratitude, uncertainty, and the subtle realization that ’home’ might be more than a physical place.

“I actually do.”

Words tumble from your lips as you gaze over the ranch from the hilltop, the golden glow of the sun casting a warm aura. “I never thought I would feel at home again. But this place has a way of working its magic on everything,” you confess, a testament to the transformative power your surroundings have woven into the fabric of your heart.

His smile echoes the sentiment, and he envelops you in a tight hug, as if the embrace itself is a testament to the enchantment this place has cast upon your lives. 

“That it sure does,” he murmurs, a shared acknowledgment of the profound connection you both feel to the land beneath your feet.

In the vast expanse of uncertainties, you shudder at the mere thought of navigating through the challenges without Yoongi by your side, a reliable anchor in the unpredictable sea of life. The gratitude for his friendship lingers in your heart, a sentiment too profound to be expressed in mere words.

“Will you come over tomorrow? The guy that wants to buy Holly will come and pick her up in the morning…” You discern the unspoken plea in his eyes, and with a tender smile, you draw closer, seeking solace in the warmth of his presence.

“Of course I’ll be there, Yoon.”

After the sun’s final bow, Yoongi rides back to the Park ranch, and you descend the hill towards your home. The term ’home’ once felt foreign, but now it wraps around you like a familiar embrace, an unwavering truth – your refuge, always and forever.

The next day, fueled by a hasty breakfast, you dash to the stables, the eager anticipation of your visit to Bell Ranch propelling you forward. Your task at hand: preparing Marshmallow for the journey ahead.

In the quiet embrace of the barn, you exchange a warm greeting with Marshmallow, ushering him into the center of the space. There, you deftly equip him with a saddle and bridle. As you guide him outside, the crisp morning air envelops you, and the gentle caress of the early sun bestows warmth upon your skin. A deep inhale fills your lungs, and with a graceful exhale, you mount Marshmallow. With a subtle nudge, you prompt him into a rhythmic gallop, traversing the lush expanse of green that unfolds before you.

The journey feels fleeting, far too brief for the solace it provides. Arriving at the stables, you swiftly dismount and tenderly remove Marshmallow’s tack. Leading him to one of the paddocks, you release him to the embrace of the open space, allowing him a well-deserved respite while you prepare to work with Yoongi.

You make your way to the pen, where Yoongi bids farewell to Holly. His arms envelop the brown mare’s neck in a tight embrace, soft pats accentuating the silent conversation between man and horse. Tears trace a path down his cheeks, and unexpectedly, you find your own emotions stirred, empathizing with the bittersweet parting, even though Holly isn’t your horse.

You acknowledge him with a quiet nod, hesitant to disrupt the tender moment between him and Holly. Leaning against the fence, you observe the heartfelt exchange. Holly emits a deep, resonant whinny, and for a fleeting moment, it feels as though she comprehends the impending separation.

As the sound of a truck pulling a trailer draws near behind you, the realization dawns—it’s time. Yoongi lifts his head from its resting place on Holly’s neck, offering her a final, affectionate pat before reluctantly stepping away.

With a heavy heart, Yoongi guides Holly towards the waiting trailer in the yard. The man has preemptively opened the trailer door, and as Holly steps inside, Yoongi closes the latch with a palpable reluctance. Standing on the sidelines, you observe the exchange—the man handing Yoongi some money, their handshake resonating with unspoken emotions. As the man returns to his car and drives away, Yoongi walks over to you, a profound sadness etched on his face.

“It’s okay,” you offer a comforting reassurance to Yoongi, wrapping him in a gentle hug.

He shares a bittersweet acknowledgment, a tinge of sadness coloring his smile, as both of you reluctantly shift your focus away from the departing car.

“Do you want to work on Mikrokosmos? I feel like I need something to do to keep my mind off Holly,” his request hangs in the air, laced with a subtle vulnerability as he looks at you with a sheepish smile. A shared understanding passes between you, and you nod in agreement, both silently making your way toward the stables, seeking solace in the comforting routine of working with Mikrokosmos.

With a confident stride, you retrieve Mikrokosmos from her stall, guiding her down to the pen without the need for a rope or halter. Yoongi walks beside you, a wistful smile playing on his lips.

Swinging the gate wide, you usher Mikrokosmos into the pen, her graceful steps echoing within the enclosure. Yoongi assumes his customary perch atop the fence, his observant eyes tracking the movements of the spirited mare.

Allowing Mikrokosmos to explore your scent, you initiate a tactile connection by stroking her forehead, tracing the path down her elegant neck, and along the sinewy contours of her shoulders. As your hands ascend to her back, you apply a gentle yet firm pressure, echoing the techniques you observed from Yoongi weeks ago, establishing a silent rapport with the magnificent mare.

Feeling the mare’s ease under your touch, you gradually increase the pressure, traversing her back with a comforting rhythm. When your eyes seek Yoongi’s for guidance, a silent understanding passes between you. Without a spoken word, he reads your unspoken query. “She’s ready,” he asserts with unwavering confidence, his voice a testament to the bond you’re building with Mikrokosmos.

Emboldened by Mikrokosmos’ serene response to your touch, you decide to take a daring leap, mimicking Yoongi’s approach with Holly. With a sense of excitement and trepidation, you pull yourself up onto her back. To your delight, she remains unfazed, allowing you to settle in, planting your bum securely on her back. It’s a moment of triumph, a testament to the trust building between you and the spirited mare.

In a breathless moment, Mikrokosmos stands still, and then, breaking the silence, she releases a soft whinny. Your heart swells with a mix of wonder and joy. As you pat her neck, a gentle coaxing with the press of your legs encourages her to move. Together, you embark on a slow journey around the pen, a newfound connection unfolding beneath you. From atop the fence, Yoongi grins widely, witnessing the magical communion between rider and horse.

A surge of pride and accomplishment courses through you. It’s a defining moment, a testament to the progress made. Confidence radiates from your every move as you navigate the pen on horseback, a triumphant smile adorning your face.

As a sudden pressure builds in your bladder, frustration wells up internally. Of all the moments, it has to be now. Succumbing to the inevitable, you voice your discomfort, “I need to use the restroom. Can you look after Mikrokosmos until I return?”

Yoongi acknowledges with a nod, and you smoothly descend Mikrokosmos’ body, grounding your feet in the sand. With a burst of energy, you vault over the fence, sprinting all the way up to the main house.

You forgo the courtesy of knocking, opting to swing the door wide open as you make a beeline for the bathroom.

As your fingers extend toward the door handle, it unexpectedly swings open, catching you off guard and sending a jolt of surprise through you.

As the door swings open, you’re met with the unexpected sight Deiji, draped only in a towel. Her damp hair and glistening skin hint at a recent shower, and the small droplets of water sparkle in the light. A startled shriek escapes her lips as her gaze locks with your equally surprised and wide eyes.

Panicking, you blurt out, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Your words stumble over each other as the sound of approaching footsteps from upstairs adds to the awkward tension in the air.

Down the stairs descends Jimin, clad in nothing but a pair of snug grey joggers, his feet bare, hair wet, and your jaw practically hits the floor.

“What’s the matter, babe?” He queries, running a hand through his damp hair. His eyes find your startled form, and he instantly eases into a more relaxed demeanor.

You’re caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Your heartbeat skyrockets, and you’re torn between the urge to look away and the magnetic pull keeping your gaze fixed on Jimin. Every contour of his physique, from well-defined pectorals to a happy trail of natural brown hairs leading down to his crotch, leaves you both captivated and flustered. He is everything you imagined and more. 

A sudden wave of heat engulfs the room, making you feel as if you’re suffocating. You become acutely aware that you might have been staring for too long, as both Jimin and Deiji shoot you concerned glances, their eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

“What are you doing here?” Jimin inquires, casually flexing his abdominals with a smirk playing on his lips. It’s a dirty move, and he knows it. Why does he have to look so devilishly good, practically flaunting something you can’t have? It’s not fair—Park Jimin is a temptation, and you can’t help but feel he might be your downfall.

As realization dawns, you suddenly recall the purpose of your intrusion. “I have to pee,” you blurt out, a mixture of embarrassment and urgency in your tone.

Amused laughter fills the room, and Deiji graciously clears some space, saying, “You can use it; I’m done anyway.”

Nodding, you flash her a grateful smile, a strange mix of nerves and curiosity swirling within you. As you pass her, a trail of her sweet floral scent lingers, enveloping you. Just before slipping into the bathroom, you steal a glance at Jimin. His face wears a smirk you can’t decipher. 

Suddenly, it dawns on you - this is the first time he has spoken to you in weeks.

Basking in the midday sun, a gentle breeze toys with your hair, allowing its tender touch to dance across your neck as you gallop through the undulating hills astride Marshmallow.

Thundering across these expansive landscapes, a spirited gallop grants temporary solace to your heart, momentarily eclipsing the tumult within. Damn Park Jimin and his angelic and devilish looking face. The ache intensifies witnessing him with his infuriatingly perfect girlfriend; a pain that lingers, leaving you uncertain if you’ll ever get over him.

Granting Marshmallow unrestrained freedom, you traverse diverse landscapes—dense forests, the serene lake, and finally, the ranch’s Eastern expanse. Yet, an unsettling discord interrupts the tranquility, an eerie cry that echoes of an animal’s distress. Tensing the reins, you guide Marshmallow toward the source of the ominous noise.

Arriving at the scene, your eyes widen at the sight of a cow standing in the paddock, its posture awkward, and a pair of feet protruding from its laboring form. A gasp escapes you as the realization dawns – the cow is giving birth.

Dismounting from Marshmallow, urgency propels you toward the struggling cow. The rhythmic movement of the legs suggests the birthing process, something doesn’t seem right and you don’t know what to do. In a quick reflex, you pull out your phone, dialing the only person you know what to do.

The ringtone echoes anxiously, each second an eternity as you plead silently for the familiar voice to answer. The urgency in your chest intensifies with each passing ring. Please, just pick up, dammit!

Relief floods over you as Namjoon’s voice resonates through the phone, a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. “This is Namjoon,” he declares, and in that instant, it’s as if the universe aligns to bring order to the chaos around you.

“Thank god! Can you come and help? There’s a cow giving birth in the Eastern paddock, and it sounds like she’s in distress!” Your urgent plea pierces through the phone, echoing the distress emanating from the laboring cow.

“You know these animals can handle calving by themselves, right?” He chuckles on the line, and you roll your eyes, dismissing the notion with a hint of impatience. There’s no time for a history lesson; immediate action is what you need.

“The baby cow’s legs are moving back and forth—is that normal?” Your voice carries a hint of sternness, convinced that this situation isn’t within the realms of normalcy. Silence greets you on the other end, and for a brief moment, you fear he might have hung up.

“I’ll be there as soon as possible!” His voice, once calm, now carries a sense of urgency and stress, and in that moment, you grasp the gravity of the situation.

“Try to see if you can pull the calf’s legs out until I arrive, okay?” His urgent plea echoes in your ears, mingling with the distant sound of a car door opening and closing on the line, signaling hope that he’s racing to your aid.

“Pull its legs out?” Your frantic voice echoes into the void as the call disconnects. A heavy sigh escapes you as you gaze at the distressed cow. Uncertainty clings to you like a shadow; you’re torn between the fear of causing harm and the weight of Namjoon’s expertise urging you to act. He’s the vet, after all, and if he says it’s the necessary step, you steel yourself for what needs to be done.

Rolling your sleeves up, you step forward, determined to help the distressed cow. Your hand rests gently on its back, employing the same calming touch you would use with a wild horse. Slowly, your hand traverses down its body to its hindquarters where the legs protrude awkwardly. With a careful grip, you attempt to pull, but to no avail. It becomes apparent that the helpless calf is firmly lodged inside, presenting a daunting challenge.

Beads of sweat mingle with the dust on your brow, the relentless struggle to free the trapped calf becomes a desperate dance. The distant hum of an approaching engine brings a surge of hope, and relief washes over you as Namjoon’s truck roars to a halt behind you. Oh thank god!

With a swift, purposeful stride, Namjoon emerges from his truck, the familiar cadence of urgency echoing in each step. In his firm grip, the vet bag swings like a lifeline as he hastens toward you and the distressed cow.

Apologies linger in Namjoon’s voice as he swiftly dons a pair of absurdly long, cerulean gloves from his well-stocked bag. His keen eyes scan the scene, assessing the situation as he poses a question that cuts through the tense air, “It’s still not out?”

Retreating to give Namjoon the space he needs, you watch in awe as he envelops the tiny legs with his gloved hands, channeling the strength of his entire body into each determined pull.

“It normally doesn’t take this long to birth a calf…” sweat beads on Namjoon’s forehead as he exerts more effort, a hint of concern in his voice. With a final determined tug, the calf emerges, first the legs, then the head and the rest of its body. Namjoon carefully lowers it to the ground, leaving the newborn covered in a mixture of slime and blood.

Namjoon discards his gloves into a wash bag, his eyes shifting from the exhausted cow to the newborn calf finding its bearings on the grass. “Calling me was the right move; it didn’t appear the cow could manage to push the calf out on her own,” he remarks, a touch of relief in his voice.

Gratitude fills your words as you express, “Thanks for rushing over and handling everything – I mean, doing the heavy lifting for me.” A soft chuckle escapes your lips, acknowledging the reality that pulling out a calf was far beyond your strength.

“No problem,” his response is accompanied by a warm, bright smile, radiating reassurance. As he stows away his bag in the truck, he turns to you, locking eyes with you.

“How’s Jessi doing?” His question comes with a warm smile, yet beneath it, a subtle dance of curiosity and nervousness in his browline. A soft chuckle escapes you as you contemplate the enduring care he holds for Jessi, even after the end of their relationship. It’s nice that they are able to stay friends and still care for each other like this.

Your smile mirrors his, genuine and bright. “She’s holding up well, still bossing everyone around. Though she’s confined to crutches for now, the silver lining is that the casts are scheduled to come off in just a few days.”

His smile widens, and he nods appreciatively. “Well, that’s a relief to hear.”

You chuckle again, the sound echoing in the air. Namjoon, a genuinely good guy, radiates warmth, and it’s a bittersweet realization that things didn’t work out between him and your sister. Deep down, you silently wish him a future where he finds someone who can fulfill the desires that shimmer in his eyes – a quest you sense he’s earnestly pursuing.

“I’ll get going then. Everybody needs my help today.” He chuckles, his robust frame resonating with the warmth of his laughter, and Namjoon announces his departure. Acknowledging his unwavering commitment to helping others, you nod in farewell, watching as he steps into his truck and drives away.

You return to Marshmallow, your hand gently caressing his neck in appreciation before seamlessly mounting him. With a swift swing of your leg over the saddle, you guide him on the journey back home.

“Why are we subjecting ourselves to this culinary chaos again?” you groan, placing yet another dish onto the grand table in your dining room, glancing at Jessi for an answer.

Jessi gracefully moves around the table, lending a hand in setting up while ensuring everything is perfectly in place. “It’s all in celebration of liberation from the cast!” She jubilantly shakes her once-encased arm and leg, now liberated. You can’t help but roll your eyes; your sister’s idea of a celebration might be a bit eccentric, but it’s her party after all.

In the bustling kitchen, Ha-rin and Ara work tirelessly to craft an array of delectable dishes, infusing the house with a symphony of tantalizing aromas. Meanwhile, you, Jessi, and Soo-ah engage in a meticulous dance, setting the table with precision and placing each carefully prepared dish, allowing wisps of steam to rise and tantalize the senses.

As the feast approaches, your sister has extended invitations far and wide, and that inevitably includes Jimin and his girlfriend. The mere thought of encountering him again prompts a preemptive groan, and you find yourself yearning for a way to evade the impending interaction. Alas, with him being your neighbor and frequent collaborator on ranch-related endeavors, avoiding him proves to be a challenging feat. You scuff at the predicament, silently longing for a different reality.

With an audible clunk, you assertively place the plates on the table, the reverberation echoing the intensity of your emotions.

“Easy there!” Your sister scolds, her tone a playful warning, as she delicately places the glasses in front of the plates.

You chuckle, a lightness returning to your mood, and set the plates down with a flourish before heading into the kitchen to collect the utensils.

Anticipation gnaws at you as you set the table, a desire to get through this dinner quickly, fueled by the looming presence of Jimin. His silence has become a heavy weight, and ever since that unexpected glimpse of him almost naked, unwanted thoughts and vivid images intrude your mind. You scold yourself, reminding that he isn’t yours to entertain such thoughts about. It’s not fair to him or Deiji, and you need to push these images aside.

As you mope around the dining room, preparing for the gathering, the atmosphere shifts with the arrival of guests. Jungkook bursts in, enveloping your sister in a warm embrace before turning his attention to you. His hug is almost too tight, prompting a small squeak to escape your lips, and he responds with hearty laughter that fills the room.

As Jimin and Deiji make their entrance, you acknowledge them with a subtle nod, instinctively creating a bit of space between you. The air seems to tighten with unresolved tension, and you navigate the space carefully, aware that every step brings you closer to a rendezvous with emotions you’d rather keep at bay.

Hoseok strides into the room, with Yoongi next to him, he’s the first to envelop you in a warm embrace, a radiant smile on his face. He peppers you with questions about how you’ve been, and with a reassuring nod, you assure him that everything’s going well. Then, seamlessly, Yoongi joins in, encircling you with his arms, a reassuring and tight embrace that momentarily eases the complexities lingering in the air.

“Missed you,” he chuckles, his arms refusing to release you as you playfully roll your eyes. Amidst the friendly banter, you can’t help but notice Jimin’s intense gaze fixed on you. His eyes darken, and the once bright smile on his face transforms into a subtle frown, leaving you with a sense of unease.

Your heart sinks, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. Does Jimin not know that Yoongi is gay, and that his kiss was merely his attempt at figuring out his sexuality? It occurs to you that he probably doesn’t. After all, Yoongi hasn’t openly shared his sexual orientation, and you’ve kept it confidential as well. The pieces start falling into place, and you comprehend the anger simmering in Jimin’s eyes. If he assumes that you and Yoongi are a couple, it would explain the tension and frustration etched on his face.

How do you convey to Jimin that your relationship with Yoongi is nothing more than a deep, platonic friendship, without revealing Yoongi’s sexual orientation?

And in the grand scheme of things, does any of this even hold weight now? With him having a girlfriend, laying the truth bare seems futile. Why would confessing change a thing? He’s maintained radio silence for months, a streak of silence that shows no signs of breaking, so why break it now?

Yoongi releases you, and you respond with a playful slap on his shoulder. As he steps back, falling in line behind Hoseok, you can’t help but catch the subtle way his gaze traces Hoseok’s figure.

As you glance over, you spot Namjoon and Seokjin in the hallway, each holding a bottle of wine. A smile plays on your lips as they make their way toward you, meticulously placing the bottles on the table before joining in the gathering.

Namjoon envelops you in a warm, tight hug, his curious voice breaking through the buzz of the room. 

“How’s that calf doing?” he inquires, while Seokjin raises an intrigued eyebrow at him.

Gratitude warms your voice as you assure Namjoon, “He’s doing fine with his mother and the rest of the herd. Thank you so much for helping.” A warm smile accompanies your words, and you motion for them to take a seat.

“That’s great,” he remarks, pulling out a chair and settling in beside Seokjin.

Ha-rin and Ara make their entrance into the dining room, their foreheads glistening with the sweat earned from their hard work in the kitchen.

You take your seat beside Yoongi and Soo-ah, casting a glance across the table where Jimin and Deiji have settled. Jessi and Jungkook, positioned next to each other, are engaged in a playful banter that echoes the dynamics of a married couple, the subject revolving around trucks and bikes. Despite your eye roll at their antics, a sweet smile tugs at your lips, warming your heart with the familiarity of their friendship.

Ha-rin’s exhausted yet earnest voice scolds gently, pointing with pride at the array of delectable dishes that have emerged from the depths of her labor in the kitchen throughout the day. “Please, eat your heart out. I’ve practically lived in that kitchen to create this feast,” she urges, her eyes reflecting the passion poured into every culinary creation with the assistance of Ara.

Expressions of gratitude fill the air as your entire group starts delving into the carefully crafted dishes before you. The aroma is irresistible, and your anticipation intensifies as you eagerly anticipate the first savory bite, your hungry stomach protesting its emptiness.

Savoring the heartiness of the meal, you indulge in a bit of everything, each mouthful a symphony of delectable flavors. A wave of gratitude washes over you for having Ha-rin on the ranch, as her culinary skills elevate the dining experience, compensating for your own culinary shortcomings.

Seokjin, caught in the rapture of each bite, pauses to express his culinary admiration. His eyes gleam with appreciation as he licks his lips, savoring the flavors. “Ha-rin, this is truly incredible. Would you mind sharing the recipe later? I don’t want to miss out on a single secret behind this delightful feast.”

Ha-rin’s laughter, a melodic accompaniment to the clinking of cutlery, fills the room. A subtle blush tints her cheeks, and a bashful yet confident smile reveals her teeth. “Thank you,” she responds graciously, “I can send you the recipe later, no problem.”

You can’t help but chuckle, observing her graceful gesture of tucking a strand of short, black hair behind her ear. Her eyes, adorned with a spark of admiration, linger on Seokjin as he savors every bite.

As you glance around the table, a warmth spreads through you, witnessing everyone relishing the moment. Namjoon gracefully pours wine for those seeking a more refined sip, while others opt for the familiar companionship of beer or the simple refreshment of water.

You relish a small glass of red, a rare indulgence that harmonizes beautifully with the culinary symphony on your plate, you’re about to shift your attention back to the feast when you feel the weight of Jimin’s gaze. His eyes pierce through the air, intense and fervent, as though etching a connection with the depths of your soul.

A nervous gulp courses through you, a fleeting warmth that fans the flames of self-consciousness. Your throat tightens imperceptibly, a subtle reminder of the unspoken tension in the air. Summoning courage, you lock eyes with Jimin, your gaze unwavering. The question lingers in the charged atmosphere – why is he studying you with such intensity?

Deiji’s laughter echoes, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Jimin’s eyes. With narrowed gaze, you shoot back a piercing stare, mirroring the frustration and pain you’ve bottled up. Unnoticed, your fingers tighten around the utensils, and red begins to flare behind your eyelids.

“Calm down,” as frustration tightens your grip on the utensils, Yoongi’s calming whisper in your ear nudges you back from the edge. With an exasperated huff, you release your clenched hands. Jimin’s persistent gaze lingers, a puzzle you can’t decipher. Annoyed, you shoot him a furrowed frown, determined to focus on your meal. If he has something to say, he can use words instead of cryptic glances. You refuse to grant him more of your time without a proper conversation.

You practically spear the defenseless food on your plate, the residual anger simmering within. Beside you, Yoongi chuckles, a sound that offers a glimmer of solace. In the midst of your inner turmoil, it’s a relief to know someone can find enjoyment in this tense dinner.

Throughout the remainder of the dinner, laughter dances in the air alongside light-hearted conversations, a melody you struggle to fully engage with. Purposefully steering clear of Jimin, you catch his occasional glances in your direction, each one like an unspoken question lingering in the room.

As the final bites are savored and the dinner concludes, a collective effort ensues to tidy up the remnants of the feast. While some bid their goodbyes and disappear into the night, a handful remain, drawn to the allure of the terrace to indulge in leisurely drinks before ending the day’s festivities.

Soo-ah, Ara, Ha-rin, Yoongi, and Hoseok gravitate towards the terrace, creating a lively ensemble beneath the canvas of a sky painted with the remnants of a sunset that bid its farewell just hours ago. The air, now a gentle embrace, cradles the warmth of the departed sun, fostering an ambiance ripe for drinks and smalltalk.

You cradle the red wine in your hands, the rich hue mirroring the depth of your thoughts. It’s only your second glass, but who’s keeping track anyway?

You exhale with a profound sigh, sinking back into the chair, as if the weight of the day is lifting off your shoulders in that single breath.

Hoseok gazes at you, concern etched across his face. “What’s eating at you?”

You let out a frustrated groan, a desire to yank at your own hair bubbling beneath the surface. Uncertain about revealing the source of your vexation, you debate whether to open up about what’s truly bothering you. Given that your friends are well aware of your feelings for Jimin, it’s not as if you’d be sharing some profound secret.

“I’m just tired of Jimin,” you confess with a deep exhale, absentmindedly twirling the wine glass in your fingers, the crystal capturing the soft glow of the terrace lights.

Yoongi chuckles knowingly; he’s been a willing listener to your rants and frustrations about Jimin countless times. The girls exchange sympathetic glances, silently urging you to share more of your feelings.

“It’s frustrating, really. He hasn’t spoken a word to me since that awkward encounter when I met him and Deiji coming fresh out of the shower. The only thing he did say was to question why I was there. And now, he keeps looking at me with this strange intensity and weird look and I just can’t figure out what’s going on in his head,” you confess, letting out a heavy sigh.

Hoseok bursts into laughter, breaking the tension with his infectious humor, “Maybe he wants a threesome?” Your eyes roll at his playful comment, appreciating how he effortlessly lightens the mood, a skill he seems to master whenever things get awkward.

“I’m sure he doesn’t. Not that I’m interested!” Laughter ripples through the group, a collective release of tension that eases the weight on your shoulders.

“Maybe he just wants to talk then?” Hoseok suggests, his eyes holding a glimmer of hope beneath the terrace’s soft glow.

“If he wants to talk to me, he should just do it instead of giving me those fucking angry eyes,” you scoff, the frustration and deflation evident in your voice.

“I’m just so angry!” you declare, your body tensing with each word before finally releasing the built-up tension.

“We get it,” Soo-ah remarks, her voice understanding and sympathetic.

“Love is hard,” she adds with a touch of melancholy, her gaze lingering on Hoseok. You know that she likes him, but you don’t know if Hoseok feels the same for her. 

You let out a bitter, angry chuckle, the sound escaping from deep within as a manifestation of the frustration and tension bubbling inside you.

“By the way, does his girlfriend look familiar to any of you?” you inquire, turning to face them, only to be met with a chorus of laughter. Their unexpected reaction leaves you bewildered and searching for answers.

Ara quirks an eyebrow, suppressing a smile behind her delicate hand, and gently teases, “You haven’t realized yet?”

You shake your head. Realized what?

“She looks like you.” Ha-rin’s revelation is like a sudden thunderclap in the midst of a quiet storm, her words hanging in the air with a weight that sends a shiver down your spine. 

She looks like you? 

Every fiber of your being comes alive, reigniting the small fire you had extinguished for Jimin. The embers, once dormant, now glow and dance, casting an unexpected warmth that spreads through the chambers of your heart. The uncanny resemblance between you and Jimin’s girlfriend becomes a flickering flame, illuminating the shadows of your emotions and casting doubt on the carefully constructed walls you’ve built around your feelings.

Could this mean what you think it does?

Fuck.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

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

[jerzwriter]

This series tells the story of how Tobias and Casey's second child, Brooke Vivian Carrick, came to be. In this second installment, Tobias and Casey let a couple of their friends in on their plans just before they celebrate a memorable Valentine's Day.

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairing: Tobias x Casey Carrick (F!MC) Characters: Sienna Trinh, Jackie Varma, Vivian Carrick (F!OC) Rating: Teen Words: 1,600 Summary: See above. A/N: This little series will be a few (?) short stories leading up to Brooke Carrick's birth on August 30th.

Sienna burst into the Diagnostic Team’s office, still shivering from commuting to work during a brutal Boston winter. “That’s it,” she said. “I’m applying for a job at UCLA Medical Center. I cannot do another winter here.”

Casey glanced up from her laptop, a sly grin spreading on her face. “Oh no, you’re not. Sure, the winters are tough, but you know what Boston has?” She gestured between herself and Jackie, who had also stopped by. “Us. Boston has us. You're not going to find friends like us in L.A.”

Sienna sighed as she took off her coat, stretching her back. “You’re right. I know, you’re right.”

“No, she’s not!” Jackie retorted. “You and I can go to L.A., and we’ll see Casey twice a year for girls’ weekends. Problem solved. We’d be fine.”

“Gee! Thanks, Jackie,” Casey replied. “I can just feel the love.”

“Speaking of girls’ weekends,” Sienna continued. “Should we book Smith Rock for March? I’d love to get out there before tourist season begins.”

Casey scrunched her nose. “For someone complaining about the cold, I don’t think you’d enjoy rock climbing and kayaking in Oregon in March.”

“I don’t think I would, either,” Jackie agreed.

At that moment, Tobias sauntered into the room, and Casey smiled tenderly when he placed a kiss atop her head.

“What’s this about rock climbing and kayaking?” he asked.

“Girls’ weekend,” Casey replied. “Though I Sienna might be rock climbing solo if Aurora can't make it. But I’m down for kayaking.”

Tobias sat next to his wife and gave her a knowing look as he bit into an apple. “Maybe hold off on that.”

Jackie’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow! Casey, tell me you’re not turning into one of those wives who lets her husband tell her what to do! Are you?”

“Of course not!” Casey retorted. “The only place he's allowed to boss me around is in bed."

Tobias chuckled contently as Sienna and Jackie gagged.

“Ignore us,” Casey laughed. “Mr. Eternal Optimist here thinks he has super sperm or something.”

“Uh, before I run out of here and lose my breakfast... what?” Jackie cringed.  

Casey glanced at Tobias, who gave her a nod.

“We’re trying for another baby,” Casey beamed.

“Oh my God, Casey!” Sienna exclaimed, running over to hug her friend. “That’s amazing news.”

Jackie, still seated, looked puzzled. “Uh, but didn’t you just have one?”

“Jackie! Samantha was born nearly two years ago. Besides, it takes the average person six months to conceive, so based on my calculations, I’ll be pregnant by June. Our new baby would be born next spring when Sammy is three, it’s perfect! And I can go on the girl’s trip in March, to boot!”

“Only one flaw in that plan, sweetheart,” Tobias chimed in. “I’m not average. You’re not average. We’re not average. Our little bambina will be on board much sooner than that.”

Casey rolled her eyes. “You still leaving, Jackie? I might join you!”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Tobias smirked, sliding his arm around his wife. “In fact, I think we should get some practice in right here.”

Sienna grabbed Jackie’s hand, pulling her toward the door. “Aaaand on that note, we’re out!”

As the women left, Tobias pulled Casey close. “Told you I could get rid of them,” he murmured with a playful growl.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Maybe,” he said, tapping her nose with his finger. “But you love me.”

“I do.”

~~~~

Valentine’s Day, 2025

Already dressed for their date, Casey wobbled toward their bed as she slipped on her diamond stud earrings. She took a deep breath. Tobias had been looking forward to this evening for weeks. Valentine’s Day was his thing; he loved turning up the romance, and he was so proud of himself for getting a reservation at Mistral. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she couldn’t go.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and her mother-in-law, Vivian, stepped inside. She was babysitting Sammy tonight, and her granddaughter needed her elephant plushie, which had been left on Tobias and Casey’s bed. But one look at Casey and concern spread on Vivian’s face.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” she asked. “You look absolutely peaked.”

Casey glanced up sadly. “I feel awful, Vivian. I think I caught that stomach bug Tobias had last week.”

“Oh my!” Vivian replied. “Then you need to tell Tobias and stay home to get some rest! I’ll stay and watch Samantha; this way, at least you two can spend the night alone.”

“With Tobias taking care of me? Hell of a romantic Valentine’s Day,” Casey groaned.

“Well, the fortunate part is that you two just brim with romance every day of the year. You don’t need a Hallmark holiday to celebrate that.”

“You’re right,” Casey said with a wan smile. “Can you send Tobias up?”

Moments later, Tobias burst through the bedroom door, worry etched on his face. “Baby, what’s going on?” He asked, placing a hand on her forehead.

“I think I caught the stomach bug you had last week.”

“Yeah, but I was burning up, and you don’t seem to have a fever. Did you eat anything that might disagree with you?”

“Eat?” Casey chuckled weakly. “I've barely eaten. My stomach has been off for days.”

Tobias paused, a realization dawning in his eyes. “Casey, are you… late?”

“Late?” she repeated, almost stunned by the question. She mumbled to herself, counting on her fingers. “I haven’t been keeping track as well as normal with everything going on, but if I am, it’s only by a few days.”

Tobias’s eyebrows lifted.  

“No!” Casey insisted. “It’s entirely too soon! That’s impossible.”

“Casey. Baby girl, let’s go back in time,” he teased. “Pretend you’re in college; no, let’s go all the way back to high school. High school biology class.” He stood up and cleared his throat. “All right, Miss MacTavish, I assume you read chapter 2. So, can you tell the class how babies are made?”

“Tobias,” she laughed with a shake of her head.

“Excuse me? That’s Mr. Carrick to you, young lady. Now, unless you want to admit that you didn't do your homework, tell the class how babies are made.”

“Babies are made through unprotected sex, Mr. Carrick,” she giggled.

“OK, I'm gonna switch back to husband mode now, or this is gonna get real weird real fast,” he smirked. “Now, about how many times do we have unprotected sex per week?”

“Five to seven times more than the average American couple,” she sighed. “Depending on the study, of course.”

Tobias grinned at her silently, then finally said, “I’ll go buy a test.”

“But our dinner plans,” she protested.

“Do you really want to eat, baby?”

She looked at him, her complexion turning green just thinking about being in a crowded restaurant surrounded by the smell of food. “You’re right. Go buy a test.”

“Buy two,” she called after him as he reached the door. “Maybe three. I like to be sure.”

He turned back and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight and kissing her forehead. “This could be it,” he smiled. “This could really be it.”

“Well, if it is, I won’t feel guilty about being too tired to shop for a Valentine’s Day gift for you this week.”

Tobias handed her a nightgown with a smile. “Get changed and get under the covers. I’ll tell Ma I’m running out to get you medicine. We don’t need her to know what’s happening just yet. I’ll be right back.”

~~~~~

Tobias and Casey locked the door to their en suite bathroom. Tobias opened the first box and handed the plastic test trip to Casey.

“OK, time to pee on this,” he instructed with a grin.

Casey stifled a laugh. “If you’d told me we’d be celebrating Valentine’s Day with you ordering me to pee on something, I would’ve thought you had a new kink... not this.”

“Good point,” he chuckled. “But let’s get to it, and I’ll set the timer.”

They sat on the bed, hands clasped as they waited. “This feels so different from the first time I took a pregnancy test,” Casey mused. “I was all alone and so scared. I didn’t know how you’d react, and I was barely an attending... I couldn’t imagine it all working out.”  

“And look at us now,” Tobias said, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Do you think we’re ready for this?” she asked. “Two children, two demanding careers....”

“We are,” he nodded confidently. “Honey, don’t you know by now? There’s nothing we can’t handle together.”

They shared a tender kiss, disappointed when it was interrupted by the timer.  

“Oh boy,” Casey sighed. “Ready for this?”

“Very much so!”

They walked into the bathroom and picked up the first test. Tobias pumped his fist and whispered, “Yes!” while Casey let out a squeal.

“OK, OK, OK,” Casey cautioned, trying to keep her excitement in check. “Let’s check the others... that’s just one test.”

They checked tests number two and three, which had the same results. Casey turned to Tobias, simply beaming. “Looks like you’re going to be a daddy again! And not in the kinky way we roleplay every other weekend.”

Tobias lifted her in his arms, chucking as he spun her around. “Do I tell you enough how much I love you? How perfect you are for me?”

“You do,” she smiled. “But considering I’m about to grow another baby for you, you can tell me again... every day of this pregnancy... and beyond.”

He kissed her again, only for her to pull back suddenly as a wave of nausea hit. Tobias sat by her side, lovingly rubbing her back. When she finally sat up, her hair was a mess, and her face looked tired, but she still managed a weak smile.

“You’re so beautiful,” Tobias said, his eyes full of admiration.

Casey let out a chuckle. “This isn’t my best look.”

“Oh, yes, it is,” he said, holding her close. “We’re going to have another baby!”

“Yes, we are,” she grinned. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love!”

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[blubugg13]

Ok i keep seeing the Hogwarts Legacy MC or OC profiles and i decided to do one of my oc, Ozzy Elton. I kind of see him more as an important side character for MC. A 7th year Hufflepuff Prefect who is your local runes expert.

I finally found the person who made these templates. Credit goes to @kiwiplaetzchen

Don’t mind the S.P.E.W. Button but I did imagine that Ozzy would be a proud member if he met Hermione.

While i did the test for his Patronus i was very surprised, yet i felt like it fit him so well. The first thing i saw when i looked up the meaning of an Oryx Patronus is that they are proud and elegant. I don’t really affiliate that with him at all. In fact it was his adaptability is that i really think suits him. As i like to think that he quickly adapted to the wizarding world after Professor Weasley explained Ozzy’s hogwarts letter to him and his parents.

I absolutely love this about him. I feel like he would be an awsome friend to MC or just a great allie.

Another thing that i think is super neat is his wand. I also did the test for him on the official website. It says that:

The thing is, in Hogwarts Legacy, Ollivander’s family heirloom wand, is also made of Applewood. Which honestly makes things super interesting.

Background

Ozmond and his parents were a middle class family in London. They lived in a Terraced house alongside some of their neighbors. Flynn Elton, Ozzy’s father was a Head Gardener for higher class family. Darcy Elton, Ozzy’s mother is a seamstress, she usually does her own private work, i imagine her as an artist, she loves to paint and often draw her son and would sew him clothes. Pretty much his muggle life, his father and mother were able to afford him school, as he usually went to Sunday school. When he was 10 that’s when he started to show his magical abilities. His parents just walked in his room one day, and little Ozzy was just reading and then some books and quills started to miraculously float around behind him. They were pretty much traumatized. It wasn’t until Professor Weasley showed up to explain that their son has magical capabilities and that he was accepted into Hogwarts. A school for witches and wizards. His parents, now less traumatized, always knew their son was special. He loved to read and learn about the unknown, he always had a hard time making friends as when he played outside he would play in the dirt and pretend he was some professor discovering dinosaur bones. Flynn and Darcy would end up coming to terms that their son was a wizard a couple of months after Weasley told them the news. Instead of most parents that end up being weirded out by their children. They both came to cherish their boy, they were happy to know that their son was unique and boy were they proud. This was also their first time going to Diagon Ally were they got his school supplies and a Barn owl named Copper. They grew curious and excited for Ozzy after his first year of Hogwarts being sorted into Hufflepuff though he was almost sorted into Ravenclaw. He would tell them stories and talk about the things he learned. Their neighbors grew curious on were their son has been, as all Flynn told them was that, he got accepted into a private boarding school in the Scottish Highlands. Ozzy would continue going to hogwarts, returning home to London during Christmas break and for the summer. At some point he became Hufflepuff quidditch keeper and in his 5th year he was made a prefect, and this was also the year were he suprised his parents with a old english sheepdog puppy and they named him Alfie, he kept his badge all up to his 7th year were he heard about the new 5th year coming to hogwarts. (Honestly though i wish they added the head boys and girls in game.) Ozzy got his parents Alfie because he thought they were lonely without him. And bro literally about cried tears of joy when he found out dragons and unicorns were real.

Personality

• He’s an ambivert, as much as he likes talking about his nerdy interests, every now and then he enjoys being alone.

• He’s pretty active, he’s usually always on the go, and enjoys a good quidditch match as a proud keeper for his team. He loves hiking and would often times sketch out the scenery of the castle for his parents.

• He is neatly dressed, you can always expect to see him without wrinkles in his robes and his shoes shined. But don’t let that fool you, he enjoys getting into the dirt if means he can explore and find stuff. And not to mention whenever he rushes his handwriting it gets pretty sloppy.

• Pretty much never grouchy, this man is a rise and shine type of guy. He’s overly nice, and sometimes, tooo nice. Some people usually take it for granted just so they can copy his history homework. (Probably because they fell asleep for the 5th time.)

• More brave yet cowardly. But there are some things that he will refuse to do. He is calm in terrible situations yet he has those freeze up kind of moments. He needs a moment to process things before figuring out a plan. Other than that he will help you with whatever…just as long as you aint breaking the rules.

• A good in between on serious and playfulness. His schoolwork comes first, always. Then he has fun afterwards. Usually after long study sessions he would treck down to hogsmead just to goof off in Zonkos and then spend a good amount of his money in Honeydukes just eating sweets. (He has a major sweet tooth.) He would treat himself after all that work on his essays. A nice butterbeer would do him fine.

• Clumsy as in awkward clumsy and as in, he thinks a lot to the point he runs into stuff clumsy. He can handle old artifacts just fine. It’s just that sometimes he trips over his own feet because he just has a lot on his mind.

Overall

In conclusion, i was pretty much inspired off of Hermione. I thought about giving him a time turner so he could attend a lot of classes just like she did. But also be useful in a possible plot line were he and Mc actually had to go back in time at some point. Wouldn’t that just be fun. He tried to fit Divination and Muggle studies into his schedule, however Professor Onai is cool and all, the class just wasn’t for him. While muggle studies….yeah he tried but ended up getting weirded out by it and ended up dropping it. I definitely would love for him to be Hufflepuff Head Boy as i think he would have a fine leadership role as well as help others and look out for his classmates. Im really proud of him and i would love to make another character sheet sometime soon in the future.

In Game Pictures

My Art

If you made it this far i just wanted to say thank you for reading this. I don’t talk about my ocs often and this means a lot to me. Thank you for joining my TED Talk.

[beneathashadytree]

i sorry for saying this but i have to be honest, i dont understand why the LnDs MC having a gender is a problem, i mean, i understand you making a gn OC for some kind of support or representation but not why the MC, who already have a female body (and with that i mean biologically, the old fashion way everyone would visualise in their minds at first when they hear "female body", after all even if we young ones think this patter is wrong it still a pattern old ppl and from different cultures, and almost everyone understand and learned at first at a very young age) and if im not wrong also refered as "she" im the game, cant be described with anything that isnt gender neutral, i also have no idea why someone would be offended or feel not included reading about a MC with a gender, we all are different and is impossible to include everyone, ppl can feel not included for things you cant even imagine would be a problem, and not being able to see yourself on a story once isnt a big problem, you can ignore or jump to the next one, or just see the character like a character or another person that isnt youself.

I hope you dont get mad at this (and was able to understand my point, i usually have problems communicating with others and since english isnt my native language it gets worst), its that i just dont see the point in all this, i understand having a preference or incentivating one but not feeling somenthing bad and being against the other...

I understand what you’re trying to say, nonnie, but I have to point out a few things first. First off, I shouldn’t have to explain my own boundaries because at the end of the day, they are boundaries and should not be discussed. When something makes me uncomfortable, I shouldn’t be negotiating why people should respect that and stick to it without questioning my motives.

However, I understand you have no ill intentions, so I will be answering you—not because I’m obligated to, but because I want to point out where your line of thinking comes to harm marginalized communities.

The very simple answer is this: Because I’m a fanfic writer.

I’m not creating the MC in a game where she physically has a body and an appearance. Otome games were initially made as fantasies for their players to picture themselves in romantic situations. But since most Otome games have female MCs with very stereotypical appearances, most people who do NOT look like that end up having to imagine an OC/someone else in their place. It’s a shitty feeling; to feel left out because game producers can’t be assed to create more diverse options.

Second of all, the “old fashioned way” was already fucked up from the start, because even female bodied people are much less likely to look like Otome game MCs—who are almost dauntingly pretty, have virtually no physical blemishes, have straight hair, big eyes, and are incredibly thin. Now think of all the people who do NOT fit that physical description and are almost always excluded. When I visualize a female body like you say, I don’t instantly picture a perfect-looking skinny fair-skinned girl who looks not a day past 18. Because female bodies aren’t just one thing or the other. It’s a beautiful spectrum.

Third of all, leaving “old fashioned thinking” as it is is already a harmful concept. Should we ignore white people’s racism because it’s how they were brought up in the old-fashioned way? Should we allow sexism & misogyny in our communities because it’s how they were brought up back in the day? Should we encourage fatphobia by not silencing people because being thin and encouraging EDs was acceptable? Should we let homophobic hate crimes keep occurring because that’s what used to happen?

The number one goal of our new generations should be to reconstruct society and dismantle all the harmful practices that were done by our predecessors. Ending the cycle is our responsibility and no one else’s, and to do that, we have to take active measures to undo what they’ve done and erase what is “the norm.” Just thinking it’s wrong isn’t enough; we must take action to cut that shit out.

And because these were the “old-fashioned ways” it’s still the default for almost every writer to create for a female audience. Imagine a fandom has 200 writers. 190 would write for female MCs, and only 10 writers would write for more diverse MCs. Should everyone else that is not female (and, by the way, gender-queer people represent a massive percentage of fandoms online, and males do exist within our fandom spaces) just keep living their lives having to picture other people instead of themselves, because not enough people care enough to include them in their writing?

Here’s a realistic representation of what you’re saying: let’s say there are 2 million LNDS players around the world. 1 million are female. 1 million are not. The second 1 million will never get to see themselves as the MC. Now they can’t even picture themselves in fiction? Should the second 1 million be forced to feel left out in their own fandom space?

The same also happens with race representation in fandoms. Less than 50% of the world population is white. Yet we don’t see except very few people in fandoms writing for Black people, Latinos, Arabs, South-Asians, South-East Asians, Inuits, Native Americans, etc. Why is that? It’s because fandoms are catered towards white people. So should we just let the entire half of the globe never feel included in the art/writing fandom creators make? Do they not deserve representation and comfort too?

So when I write, I write for everyone. And when I say everyone, I mean EVERYONE. Because I think everyone deserves to see themselves loved and cared for by their favorite characters. Because everyone needs that sort of comfort. Because I myself have spent my entire life looking for that comfort in fandom spaces and never finding it. Even if the game doesn’t allow them to do that, I’m giving everyone a chance to enjoy the game through their own eyes, without having to be a stereotypical skinny girl with sleek straight hair and a dainty face. Because we want representation, and if the canon content can’t give us that (even though they claim it’s supposed to be “us”), then at the very least our fandom spaces should provide this. I hope you understand why my rules are there now. They’re a protection for both myself and everyone else in this fandom.

Fanfiction was created by the people, for the people—not just for a certain demographic that fits beauty standards and “old fashioned thinking”—and it should always be for ALL the people.

Being as inclusive as is humanly possible is never a bad thing. Refusing to see why consistently excluding others is wrong IS a bad thing, though.

[ghoulfriendfangs]

✧ APPRENTICEMBER ✧

I wanted to do something big for the Arcana community, something to bring us together! And why not make an event focusing on my favorite part of this community, our ocs and fan apprentices!

To participate, all you need to do is answer the daily question and tag your post with #apprenticember! There’s no pressure, no minimum word count, and you can skip days if you like!

Introduce your apprentice! Just their name, personality, appearance, and likes/dislikes for now! If you have pictures of them, post them today!

Who is their LI? What’s their relationship like?

Give a short summary of their relationship to the other main characters!

What about the couriers? Have they met them? What do they think of them?

Do they have any other friends outside of canon? What about the minor characters? 

Now, do they have any rivals? Maybe even a WORST ENEMY!? Spill the deets now!

Second week! Let’s go back to their physical description, but go even deeper! Do they have tattoos, piercings, scars, etc? What sort of clothes do they like?

Now let’s give their familiar the spotlight! Tell us all about them!

Do they have a patron arcana? Who is it? What’s their relationship like?

What is their relationship to the other arcana like?

Do they have a gateway? What does it look like? If they don’t have one, describe their ideal spot instead.

What does their home look like? Their room?

Can they cook? What’s their favorite meal?

What does their magic look/feel like?

What are they proudest of?

What’s their deepest insecurity?

Do they have any family, living or non living? List their family tree!

What were they like as a child?

If your mc fights, what is their fighting style? If they don’t, why not?

Remember the Valentines Day event where you could pick between 3 gifts to give the LI? What 3 gifts would you write for your mc?

Now what kind of gifts are they most likely to give?

What does your mc do to show their love?

What parts of Vesuvia is your mc most likely to be at?

Does your mc like parties, festivals, and masquerades? What do they do at them?

What’s your favorite thing about your mc?

How has your mc changed since you first made them?

Has your mc ever KILLED anybody? What are their thoughts on MURDER?

Are they afraid to die?

What is a fact about your mc others would never guess?

Is there anything else you’d like us to know?

Name another mc you read about and enjoyed! Shout out your favorite mc!

[selenacosmic]

Alright, so I've been thinking...would you be up for doing a short fic/one shot of ikesen Shingen and female reader (or MC or even an OC you have) of perhaps a cute fluffy date? Feel free to ignore this request if you'd rather not. But I love your HC's and I'd love to see more work if you would feel up to it :) <3

Hello! I would love to do this! I actually thought it would be fun to use my OC, if you don’t mind! I have been so focused on Shingen’s and my OC’s interactions in the modern AU fic I am writing that it would be nice to write a date with them in the sengoku era.

A summer date.

The warm summer’s sun was shining down brightly upon Kai, specially in the commercial area where the shops were flooded and business was flourishing smoothly. It was the perfect time for a date as well, shingen had decided to take the day off so that we could go out and see how things were going in town. With my own work in the kitchen of the castle and as the lady of Tsutsujigasaki castle, we were both too busy to have a proper date in a while.

Personally, I have always preferred our private dates, like having a picnic under a tree or enjoying a casual boat ride. Even just moon gazing was perfect for a date to me, but I was never against public dates such as these. I enjoyed looking around Kai with him, to see his people… our people.

“There are quite a lot of people today. Think we can find a good tea shop to have a seat?” His tone of voice was cheerful as he looked around, a smile gracing his lips.

“You are always thinking about the sweets at the very start of the date.” I gave him a halfhearted scolding while poking his cheek lightly, not able to contain myself from smiling. “If we can’t find one, we could always give the market place another walk until a seat is available.”

His hand held mine tightly, as protectively as possible the closer the crowd was. “While that sounds great, I can’t let my angel walk until her feet get hurt. At one point I will need to carry you.”

A giggle escaped my lips, despite his words being silly, I knew for a fact that he was serious about his statement. Turning my head around, I managed to see many shops selling a myriad of different items. “There are so many beautiful things being sold, it’s good to see Kai like this.”

“I am happy that I can live to see Kai like this.” That made me turn my attention back to him, that content smile on his face made my own heart flutter. His gray eyes turned towards me as we stopped walking right in front of an accessories shop. “Your hair looks specially beautiful today, but it is missing something.” Shingen ran his fingers through my loosened hair, turning his attention to the vendor. “Excuse me, I would like to see all of your hairpins.”

My face was tinted with red at how sweet and quick he was to buy something for me. “You are being too sweet, but i don’t think I need a new hairpin.”

“Would it convince you if I said that it’s a pleasure to me to buy things for you? Specially if it means I can dress you up in beautiful clothes and accessories?” His hand found its way towards my face, where his thumb gently ran across my lower lip, that infamous wink already convincing me.

“I see you haven’t changed even after getting married, my lord.” The vendor spoke with enthusiasm, casually smiling at shingen. That was something you wouldn’t normally see around this era.

“What can I say? There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t worship my angel.” As he spoke with the vendor, he looked around the hairpins that were put in front of him.

“My lady, surely you would like to have a look around yourself? There must be something here you will like.” The vendor beckoned me to look at his accessories as well, which I happily did.

As I was distracted by the beautiful items on display, I felt something being delicately placed on my head. Shingen was placing the hairpins on my hair, likely to see which one looked the best. “Hmm… this isn’t good.”

“My lord, is there something wrong with the hairpins?” Both the vendor and I became worried, since it was unlike shingen to seem displeased with something.

“On the contrary… all of these look too perfect on Selena, I am inclined to buy all of them.” He said it with a straight face, as if his words were serious. Though, coming from shingen, he likely was being serious.

“Am I to understand that I have brand new accessories for this season?” I didn’t hate the idea, having brand new accessories to innovate would be nice, but too many was just overwhelming.

His smile was enough for me to understand his intentions, normally i would decline so many, but the vendor seemed so happy with the big purchase that i couldn’t stop him. Perhaps i could give some of these hairpins to the maids at the castle, they would surely love them.

We decided to keep walking around the market area, looking around the shops with enthusiasm. I myself insisted on buying things for shingen, I noted that the gifts should be ocean themed, I knew how much he loved it. It was only when the sun was finally setting that we noticed we were both tired and hungry, though it seemed like the tea shops were mostly flooded.

“Looks like there isn’t any spot available… and i don’t know if we can walk around the market all over again.” Even though I was the one who suggested it, i couldn’t bring myself to walk more.

“Unfortunately, it seems like you are right, but I didn’t have any intention of eating at a tea shop today.” I looked at him with confusion since early he had said otherwise, shingen only gave me an easy smile without answering my question. Before I could question him, shingen scooped me up in his arms, something he said he would do. “I know you don’t enjoy long walks, it’s surprising you walked this much around the market place with me.”

“W-well, I was enjoying our time together, so I didn’t really mind it.” Despite how comfortable it was in his arms, I began feeling self conscious about being carried by him while we were still in public.

But I suppose it wasn’t a surprise to people here that their lord was very affectionate, so it wasn’t as embarrassing as i thought it would be. Although i didn’t know what he was planning, i decided to trust shingen and let him carry me to where he wanted.

————

The path shingen took was confusing to me, since it seemed like we were going back to the castle. I looked up at him to try and understand what exactly he was planning.

“I can hear your thoughts.” Those words brought me back to reality, which made me notice that we were, in fact, going back to the castle.

“You are acting suspiciously. You never miss going to a tea shop whenever we are out in town, and you even wanted to stop by one.” I finally made my questions explicit, though i imagine that it wasn’t necessary, he knew what I was thinking.

“I did say that, though I must apologize for deceiving you, angel.” Shingen finally put me down, taking my hand so that he could guide me back to the castle. “Actually, there is something I prepared for when we got back.”

That made me excited, anticipation building up within me. I let him guide me through the corridors of Tsutsujigasaki, until we were in front of our bedroom door.

“Your surprise was in our room?” My head tilted to the side lightly, as I wondered what was inside. Shingen was quick to act when he noticed my confusion.

“Both of our work has kept us from doing anything other than sleeping from being tired. I thought it would be nice for us to have a relaxing day in town and enjoy our evening here.

Shingen slides open the door to our room, revealing the table to be filled with sweets and sake, as well as our futon neatly arranged near the table. Everything was ready for us to only leave the room next morning.

A gasp escaped from me as i noticed all of our favorite food waiting at the table. I quickly glanced his way to notice that warm smile on his face. “Selena, won’t you spend this evening solely with me?”

I immediately smiled at that, throwing my arms around his neck so that I could steal a kiss from his lips. He helped me up as I had to stand on the tip of my toes to reach him. “Of course I will! It’s too sweet of you to prepare all of this.”

To others, it might not seem like much. But given all of the days when we didn’t get to spend that much time together, a date inside our room where we could be alone together was just… perfect.

The end…

[choicesficwriterscreations]

August MC of the Month: Dayin Axel Torres

Please welcome August 2024's MC of the Month: @oh-so-youre-a-nerd's Dayin Axel Torres

Each month, we highlight one MC or OC on our Meet My MC / OC List. They are selected randomly on the Wheel of Names, and eligibility requirements can be found here. We accept MC / OC profiles on an ongoing basis. Please feel free to send yours in!

Learn more about Dayin below

1- In your own words, tell us what you like most about your MC / OC.

I love their sense of humour, he doesn’t take much seriously, but he says his jokes with such a straight face. He’s fun but not bubbly, I think I described him earlier as “a warm sunny afternoon.” I also love how competent he is.

2- Do you feel your MC / OC is like you at all? How are you alike or different?

Honestly, not much. The only thing we share is a bit of whimsy, some similar music preferences, and a love of nerds. They’re more like the type of person I'd have a crush on haha He’s very calm, grounded, and quite smart and curious about things he enjoys. He’s a Wood Att, I'm pretty sure I'd be an Air Att, which is like opposite lol

3- What is most important to your MC / OC? What is their motivation in life?

Some things that are most important to him are not being vulnerable, and not being helpless lol. He hates showing anything other than positivity. His foster parents weren’t overtly shitty, but they never got him therapy (which, basically any adopted person deserves to have access to). His motivation in life is to not have any regrets. Regret makes him sick, it eats him up and feels like torture, he’s prefer physical pain to regret.

4- What are their biggest pet peeves/dislikes?

Tight schedules, pop music, bacon, when people don’t close the door when they leave his room, people who tease others for crying (he will rant at you for 30 minutes about why that’s fucked up), getting up early (unless it’s SPECIFICALLY to watch the sun rise)

5- If your MC / OC could change one thing - anything - what would it be?

Free higher education

6- What is your MC / OC’s favorite quote or song?

Song: Dark Chest of Wonders by Nightwish

Quote: “Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.”

― Maya Angelou

7- Is there anything else you’d like to share about your MC / OC? 

Almost drowned at the beach during a field trip in 5th grade, and is absolutely terrified of the water and drowning/suffocating. That diamond scene where you learn Hydrobreath from Atlas was INCREDIBLY terrifying, and he still has nightmares about it. He was never able to do it, he just couldn’t relax enough. He still feels so much weaker than Atlas, since HE almost drowned too but he was able to teach himself in that life-or-death situation. 

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 3

Ok so I decided to cut down the next chapter so I could get something out before I take a small break, but the next one is over hlaf-way done so it'll be out soon. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 5942

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency, Swearing, Mentions of murder. MC'S RACE IS DEFINED DUE TO PLOT REASONS (also because she is based off my OC)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 >

PART 1: Chapter 3

I'd rather be unemployed.

Fimble-Famble (Definition): A really lame excuse for not wanting to do something. (Noun)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Monday, 9th December, 1929.

“And he told me that we needed the money so I had to take it!” you cried as you slumped in the armchair.

Agnes gave you a look over the top of her glasses, the book she was reading now long forgotten since you stormed in that evening practically red in the face as you ranted to her about the whole radio fiasco. Knowing your tirade wasn’t over, she placed a bookmark between the pages and snapped the book shut, reaching over the arm to place it on the side table with a sigh.

“Well he is your boss.” She explained calmly, and you slumped down further, edging your sock-clad feet towards the fire. “If he believes you can do it, then I don’t see any reason as to why you can’t. Besides,” she gestured to the bag of books by your feet. “Those books he gave you are about radios for beginners – having that knowledge could open up further job opportunities for you.”

All you did was stare at the bag with a frown, before you kicked it over with a whiny grunt. Agnes sighed again.

“You’re going to get rude customers wherever you go, so when you’re the one representing the business, you be the better person and take the challenge calmly.” She pressed, peering over at you with a stern expression.

Silence.

She squinted slightly. “You.. did take it calmly, didn’t you?”

When you continued to narrow your eyes at the ground, she sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Christ, no wonder the twins grew up to be as crazy as they are.” She muttered. “Look, if Mr LeBlanc has asked you to take on this repair, and allowed you to take the pay for the extra labour hours, then I see no reason for you to refuse this man’s request – at least, not without cause.”

You sat up straight, prodding the cushioned arm with your finger. “Oh, I have cause. It is because I hate him!” You exclaimed.

Your aunt tilted her head, regarding you with a tired look. “My lovely, you’ve only had one conversation with him over the phone.”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “Two, if you count the letters.” You growled. “Besides, I think Ralph only told me to take the job ‘cause he knew the guy.” Agnes raised a brow. “I said it was a Mr A. Boudreaux, and he almost choked to death from coughing his lungs out. I told him he was rude to me but he just kept saying that I had to.”

“Did he say please?” she asked, a small knowing smile on her face.

“…Yes.”

“There you go.” Agnes concluded, reaching over to give your knee a few rough but assuring pats. “I don’t know who this Mr Boudreaux is, but if Ralph wants it done, then you can at least try. Besides, I’m off work until next Monday, so I’ll be home for a whole week to give you a hand if you need one – I know how those equations and diagrams make your head go all fuzzy.”

You sighed dejectedly, then gave your aunt a small smile. “Thank you. If anything, I’m doing it for this guy’s mum, not him.”

“Awww, at least he’s sweet to his mother.” She smiled, before turning towards the door and raising her voice slightly. “I do hope I get that treatment when I’m older!”

All she got was a loud farting noise echoing through from the other room.

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Friday, 13th December, 1929.

The patio double doors hung wide open as you laid your head on the kitchen table, staring at the technicolour marbling of the setting sun. Tools, wires and random pieces of springs laid scattered on the wooden surface around you, along with several books opened to pages of diagrams you had spent the last week trying to understand but to no avail. You had sent a letter on the Tuesday, informing Mr Boudreaux that your boss had decided that the radio would be taken on.

You refused to call him again, lest you face the humiliation of that faceless smug bastard as he found out that your boss had sent you back with your tail between your legs to tell him that you were in the wrong – something you adamantly avoided stating in your letter, instead half-hinting that Ralph had miraculously recovered overnight (he hadn’t), and took the project on personally (he didn’t do that either).

It also seemed that the good luck spell you and your aunt had performed that Monday evening worked - after you had collapsed on your imaginary chaise-longue and wailed to her about the dilemmas of the day, she had dragged you to her room, going on about how you hadn’t been keeping up with your practice for the last seven months. She made you bring your grimoire from your room, and you both spent around an hour resetting and cleansing energies, also setting up a small bowl of different herbs and trinkets that symbolised good luck, making you put it on your bedside table along with a new incense burner she had bought you. Honestly, if your aunt wasn’t around, you probably would’ve spontaneously combusted by Wednesday.

Agnes had also sat with you every evening, reading through the radio books, and slowly helping you work things out when the words started to blend together and you found yourself trying to read a paragraph as much as you could, but to no avail.

It was times like this when you wish you were back home, when everything was normal. When people weren’t giving lingering looks to your aunt as she traipsed about the village like every other innocent woman. When your uncle was telling you about his family and his way of living in Japan to his sons, and to you whenever you had the time to stop by. When you were treated as a well-respected, intelligent woman, who was freshly graduated from university at the top of her class. Not whatever those men had said to you when they came to your door after the local doctor had practically snitched on you. If only that dinner hadn’t happened. If only your aunt’s maid hadn’t gone snooping where she shouldn’t. Within a year everyone had been torn from each other.

But there wasn’t much time for mourning. You had less than two weeks to get this radio looking like it did when it was fresh off the shelf, otherwise you risk disappointing your boss for the first time ever, which would have you unconsciously doubting yourself for the rest of eternity.

Your head still on the table, you pinched a spring coil between your fingers, holding it up against the orange-purple sky as you glared at its silhouette. Rustling came from beside you as your aunt flipped the pages of the books, eyes flitting between them and the notes she was taking in her notebook.

You felt her glance at you a couple times, until there was a sound as she shifted, then silence. Feeling a finger tap your shoulder lightly, you slowly sat up to face her. She was facing you, an uneasy look in her eye as she took her time coming up with what to say.

“So..” she began hesitantly. “I understand your busy right now working full time at the shop, but since we got the news yesterday that Ralph was getting better, I was going to ask you,” she waved her hand about in thought. “If you’re going back to working only two days, would you consider looking for another job?”

You sat up straight, confusion clouding your face. “You want me to quit on Mr LeBlanc?”

“NO, no no!” she cried, waving her hands to dismiss the obvious miscommunication as she laughed nervously. “I meant look for a second job? I felt awful even thinking about asking you, but with the free time you’ll have, I just think it would make surviving this crash easier if we both had a steady wage coming in? I mean, as steady a wage that two women during this time an get.” She looked at her hands as she twisted them, hesitance and guilt written all over her face. “I want the boys to have a completed education, and it’ll crush me if I force myself to take that away from them.” She turned to you, trying her best to hide the tears threatening to build up. “I know you’re only here temporarily, and I’m not going to make you do anything you’re not comfortable doing, but –” she took a shaky breath. “as humiliating as it is, I need your help.”

Moments passed as you stared at the woman before you. The woman who used to be so full of life and love when she was surrounded by family – who loved the village she grew up in and the city she moved to – who loved the husband she fought tooth and nail to marry – now sat in a house in an unknown city she never asked to be in, a country she never asked to move to. Torn from her sister to an unknown place on the other side of the planet. All because her stupid maid couldn’t keep her stupid mouth shut.

Reaching your arm out, you grasped her hand with your own, waiting until she looked up at you, dark eyebags you never thought you’d see underlining her eyes like a curse. You knew she wasn’t sleeping enough.

“I’ll start looking tomorrow.” You stated quietly but firmly, squeezing her hand affirmingly.

Her eyes glistened as they widened, regarding you with a desperate hope, until she let out a loud sniffle and dropped her head onto your shoulder, trying her best to conceal her own shoulders as they jerked up and down slightly with her light sobs. Resting your head on top of hers, you both sat there in silence as you listened to the clock tick along with your aunt’s quiet sniffs as she attempted to calm herself.

“There’s an assistant’s job going down near the French Quarter.” She muttered. “I know the guy who runs the place and he said he would be happy to interview you?”

You perked up at her suggestion. “Ok, what kind of company is it?” Your aunt remained silent for a moment. “Agnes?”

“It’s a, uhhh… radio station.”

Jerking your head off hers, she quickly sat up as you gave her a deadpan expression.

“C’mon,” she pushed with a watery giggle. “I said you we’re learning how radios work for a repair, and he seemed excited that you would have some knowledge before you applied.”

“Unwanted knowledge.” You pressed. “He’s gonna have to offer a decent salary if he wants me to be within a ten mile radius of a radio ever again.”

Your aunt gave a throaty laugh in response. “Oh, don’t worry, I made sure of that before asking you. I can give him a call if you’re willing to interview?”

Making sure to let out a very long and tired sigh, you looked at you aunt’s pleading face, before slowly nodding. Letting out a cry of relief, she clapped her hands, then grabbed your face as she squished your cheeks, moving your head from side to side as she let out a string of ‘thank yous!’.

Eventually after her tirade of affection, she got up, flipping her twin plaits over her shoulders as she approached the sink, rinsing both of your mugs to make the fifth cup of tea that evening. You went to reach across the table for a book when your ears perked up at the sound of a small ‘psst’ from your right side.

Glancing over, your eyes landed on the archway that led into the hallway, and you were able to see all the way down to the front door from where you were sat, though half of your view was blocked by the underside of the stairs. Peering down the long hall, you leant back in your seat until a dark mop of hair peeked around the staircase banister.

Quickly flicking your eyes to Agnes, you made sure she was still facing the sink when you turned back to make eye contact with Ollie, who was precariously perched on the bottom step as he manoeuvred his upper body to curve around the wooden post to face you. Another mop of lighter hair joined him, as Allie stuck his head between the ceiling and the railing from where he was further up the stairs. Reaching one arm round and the other through the banister posts, Ollie began waving and pointing his fingers about, signing the most ridiculous gestures as he tried to convey a message.

‘What??’ you mouthed silently, frowning as you shook your head slightly in confusion.

At this, your cousin tried again, jabbing his fingers about a bit harder as he repeated the message.

You stared, eyes darting to the side then back again, and you simply shrugged. At this point Allie had thrown a dirty sock at his brother, and you barely heard him hiss at Ollie to make it simpler.

Rolling his eyes, Ollie shifted until he was fully facing you. With frustrated, wide eyes, he pointed at you. You nodded. Then pointed upstairs. You nodded again. Then jabbed his thumbs at his chest as he mouthed ‘my room’, then held his hand up with all of his fingers splayed out, ‘five minutes’ he said silently. Nodding once more, you watched as your cousin froze at the clatter of mugs as your aunt moved about, before quickly darting back round the banister, crawling on all fours as he soundlessly disappeared back up the staircase like some shadow creature along with his brother.

Sighing with a roll of your eyes, you returned back to the mess in front of you, thanking your aunt as she placed a fresh steaming mug of tea down. Picking it up, you bathed in the hot vapours rising from it before sticking your tongue out slightly to test the temperature. Quiet slurping sounded from beside you as your aunt returned to her seat, sipping from her own mug. Glancing at you, she placed it down to pick up a book.

“So,” she said as she casually turned a page. “What did the boys want?”

You took a large sip.

“No idea.”

--

Five minutes later, you took it as a well-earned break, trudging upstairs to see what the twins wanted to yap at you about.

“What’re you two up to now?” You sighed as you pushed open the door that had the sign saying ‘Ollie’s Room’ nailed to it. You looked up, only to stop in your tracks as your eyes landed on the two hunched over a very large corkboard, though, the cork was hardly visible with all the random pieces of paper, newspaper clippings and string pinned to it.

“Whaaaat is that?” You said slowly, brows furrowing as you stared at the board with wide eyes.

Ollie practically crawled his way over to the door, hands on the floor as he lifted a leg like a dog taking a piss, to kick it closed before scurrying back to his twin’s side, who was busy looping glittery wool string around another pin.

“A corkboard.” Allie simply said, not even bothering to look your way.

“I can see that.” You deadpanned, making your way over. “I’m asking what is on it. And specifically HOW you got pictures of dead bodies.” You pointed out, stepping closer to see the black and white photographs of body parts and corpses that you knew definitely shouldn’t be in the hands of your underage cousins. (Though they were 17 now, and clearly the closer they got to adulthood, the more excuses they had to do crap they weren’t allowed to.)

Allie snipped the end of the string, his voice lowering as he regarded you with a dark look. “If we told you, we’d have to kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first.” You hissed, raising a leg to kick him. “Explain.”

“Okayyyyy fine!” he whined, shuffling out of the way to avoid your attack with a pout. “The son of the Sheriff is in our class, and we pay him to enlarge photos from the crime scenes that are suspected to be the Bayou Butcher.”

Your mouth flung open. “You WHAT?!?!” You yelled.

Ollie swiftly raised his hand to cover your mouth. “Shush, if mum hears you, we’re all dead!”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Reaching your hand up, you slapped his away. “We’re all dead regardless!!” You hissed. “Has the thought crossed either of your microscopic brains that what you’ve done is, like – I don’t know – super illegal??”

“It’s fine.” Allie shrugged. “If we guess that someone is onto us, we burn the evidence.”

Your looked between the two of them with wide eyes. “What if mum finds it when you’re both at school? What then??”

Allie sighed. “She won’t find it. Promise.” He stretched his arm up to the top of the board, flipping it over to show another side with random drawings and knick-knacks pinned to it. “We just flip it over and stick it in the wardrobe.”

“What, and pray she doesn’t get the urge to do her usual chores and find it as she’s hanging up your washing??” You contradicted.

“Yea pretty much.” Ollie replied.

You glanced between them worriedly, shaking your head. “You two are treading on thin ice here.”

“Yea yea but we didn’t bring you here to moan about everything.” Interrupted Ollie. “What we were trying to say before you rudely changed the subject was that this was our theory board.”

“Your illegal theory board.” You poked, crossing your arms.

Allie simply frowned up at you from where he was knelt on the floor, and you sighed.

“Fine. I’m guessing it’s about the Bayou Butcher?” You asked, before scrunching your face. “Why am I even asking? Of course it is.”

“Yep.” Ollie replied, his demeanour now more excitable. “Every grisly murder that matches his M.O. – well – our idea of his M.O. Along with every newspaper article about him, and maps of places the bodies have been found.” He explained, pointing each thing out. “We’re currently trying to figure out a potential pattern, but to no avail at this point.” He turned to you with a determined look in his eye – something you should be seeing on an actual detective, NOT your dingbat of a cousin. “But we will. At some point.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “Ok, so, why am I here?”

They both looked at each other, before facing back to you.

“To help us.”

“Absolutely not.”

Allie pouted. “Aww c’mon! We thought you liked this sort of stuff?” he whined, gesturing at you.

“Yea, from an outsider’s perspective! Not when there’s a potential for the police to come after me! Hell, this Butcher guy could find out you’re onto him and come after you himself!”

They rolled their eyes. “Ok, mum. No need to get your knickers in a twist.” Jived Allie. “We can guarantee you, no-one’s gonna find out.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How, then?”

“By not being stupid?” Ollie said as if it was the most obvious thing.

You sighed, thinking to yourself for a moment. “…Fine.” You held a finger up when their faces brightened. “But if anything gets dangerous, I’m burning it all myself.”

They both nodded excitedly, beckoning you over as they began to explain everything.

You knew at some point they would both be the death of you.

--

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Monday, 16th December, 1929.

The sun was still yet to melt the snow when you walked into town with your aunt that morning, arms linked as to not slip on the compacted ice as you both tried to step onto the trams that were miraculously still running. Your arms remained linked as both made your way to a wide, busy street just off the outskirts of the French Quarter, about a twenty minute walk from where the antique shop was.

Mr LeBlanc has graciously given you the day off, as a thank you for running the shop. His cough had receded, and was determined to return to work. Though his wife insisted on joining him in the shop for a couple days to keep an eye on his health, despite his grumbling.

“I can assure you Mr Durham is lovely.” Agnes said with unwavering confidence as she patted your arm with a knitted glove. “The interview should be over in fifteen minutes or so – you’ll be in-and-out before you even realise it, so there’s no need to worry.”

You gave her a shaky smile. “Hopefully. Though I haven’t been in any interviews to know if it’ll go well.”

“It will.” She stated firmly. “Now, do you remember what we went over when answering interview questions?” You nodded, and she slowed you both to a stop. “Brilliant. We’re here.” She gestured up to a relatively tall building, the brickwork looming over you as the wall above the doors displayed the words ‘W.A.D RADIO’ in bright, white paint.

Peering up at the five-storey building, you felt nerves creep up your spine as you began to sweat slightly.

“Oi, look at me.” Muttered Agnes, reaching out to gently take your shoulders as she turned you to her. “No matter what happens in there, it’s not the end of the world, I can promise you that.” She assured. Glancing her eyes across your face, she reached up to straighten the simple blue cloche hat she had let you borrow. “There should be a receptionist at the front desk, just go in and tell her your name and that you’re here for an interview with Mr Durham, ok? I’ll be waiting out here for you.”

The air in your throat stuttered as you took a deep breath, your nervousness a stark contrast to the anger-fuelled confidence you had when answering that phoner. Nodding silently, you returned your Aunt’s smile before stepping away and pushing the door open, hoping the ‘Good Luck!’ she had whispered to you would give some assist.

--

You could sense the receptionist staring at you as you sat staring blankly at the tiles on the floor ahead. Picking the non-existent dirt from under your nails, you felt the sickening nerves in your stomach ease slightly when you had sat on the worn, leather-clad bench, the conversation with the woman at the desk having gone as smoothly as you could make it, luckily without your mind going blank or stuttering on any words.

“Where did’ya say you were from again?” You heard, and you raised your head to see the receptionist leaning on her elbows on the desk, chewing on a pencil as she looked you up and down. “You’re English, but’cha don’t sound quite like those gents on the radio?” she questioned, her slightly nasally voice cutting through the air as she bore you down with her gaze.

You blinked. “…I’m from the North-East.”

She furrowed her brows, the wood of the pencil clacking on her teeth. “North-East a’what?”

“Of England? You know there’s over forty different accents used in the UK, right?.” You explained.

She looked you up and down once again. “Huh.” Was all she said, before she shrugged her shoulders, turning back to the paperwork she was pointedly ignoring, and you returned to fiddling with your hands, now choosing to pick at any loose lint on the hat laid on your lap.

About five minutes later, the sound of shoes clicking against tile tapped against your ears, and you looked up to see a man donned in business attire round the corner. He was rather tall and large, but in a soft muscular kind of way. His murky brown waves fell loosely over his forehead, peppered with streaks of grey along with his thick beard, and he still retained the tan from the summer, but his pale shade of skin was starting to show through again, softening the piercing blue of his eyes.

Speaking of eyes, it didn’t take him a second to scan the room before they landed on you, the cerulean if his iris’ turning an almost baby blue under the lights as they brightened at the sight of you.

“Ah! There you are!” He exclaimed, arms spreading wide to welcome you. “I was wondering when your aunt would drop you off!” His white teeth glistened as he gave a handsome, warm smile. Approaching where you sat, you quickly stood to take his large, outstretched hand, the warmth from him enveloping your snow-frozen skin. “I’m Mr Durham, co-owner of Watson & Durham Radio.”

You could see why your aunt let him take her out for dinner.

--

“– and you’ll be here Wednesday to Friday, from what your aunt said on the phone.” Mr Durham rambled on. You had been interviewed in his office on the third floor, but he had insisted on taking you on a tour around the expansive building. At first, he showed you your potential desk, positioned just outside his office, facing the rows of other desks that spanned the large room ahead.

Now you were taking the stairs to the fifth floor – ‘where the magic happened’ – according to the spritely man.

“These are the radio booths – each host gets their own.” Mr Durham explained, gesturing down the wide corridor.

Strangely, his pace seemed to quicken as he led you past the windows, but you tried your best to peer into each one. Some were dark, as no-one was in. Others were presenting, the ‘ON AIR’ sign above their door glowing bright, the rest were either chatting amongst each other, or alone in their booths, scribbling down in notebooks or on sheets of paper.

“– David, Jeff, Al, Brian, and Ol’ Timmy are all here – ‘cept the rest who have the day off.” Mr Durham listed off, pointing out each man as he rushed you by. “Though-” he lowered his voice a little. “- if you take the job, it’s best we keep you on the third floor.” You furrowed your brows at his odd comment, to which he spotted, quickly giving an explanation. “The boys can be a bit of a distraction you see. Being on the radio means you have to be charismatic, and I want you to settle in comfortably before I introduce you. A few can be quite… nosey. And overwhelming – some more than others.” He muttered, glancing into one of the booths near the end, and you looked over to see the back of a man’s head, his hair styled neatly from what you could see, and you watched as he gently tapped his foot to whatever was playing through his headset whilst he jotted away in the notebook on his desk.

As Mr Durham’s large shadow cast across him, he began to turn his head, and you managed to catch a glimpse of a pair of thin glasses before you walked out of sight of the window.

Thinking nothing of it, you followed the boss round the corner at the end of the hallway, and he continued to tour you around the building, pointing out the odd thing or person here and there.

--

The chill of the winter air hit your face once again as you pushed the front door open, and you scanned the street for your aunt. Glancing to the spot where she left you, a frown crossed your face as you found it empty, but barely a moment passed until your name was called out, and you looked up across the street to see your aunt stood outside the door of a café, waving for you to come over.

Cursing out America for having their jaywalking laws, you quickly searched for a crossing, speed-walking as fast as you could over the road despite the slippery snow as you jogged up to your aunt.

“So? How did it go?” she breathed excitedly as she led you inside to a small table, where there was already a steaming cup of tea waiting for you.

Grasping the warm beverage in your hands, you relayed the events of the last half hour to the woman bouncing in her seat across from you.

“Ok, but, were you happy with what you saw?” Agnes asked once you had finished.

You nodded. “Yea, pretty much.” You answered. “That Durham guy was already talking about me settling in before he offered me the job.”

Her back straightened. “He did?? Did you accept?” She gasped.

Looking at her over the top of your cup, you felt a smile grow on your face. “Mhm, I start Wednesday.”

Your aunt threw her hands in the air. “Oh thank god!” Her eyes darted about in frantic thought. “Oh! We’ve got to go shopping for some proper work clothes for you! Mr Durham is quite flexible with workwear but we’ll still go.” She rambled, pulling a piece of paper and a pen out her purse to start jotting things down, mumbling under her breath. “There’s a shop down the main street, and you’ll be needing some smarter trousers –”

“Speaking of Mr Durham,” you interrupted with a small smirk, watching Agnes accidentally jerk her pen across the paper as her wide eyes looked up at you. “He seems oddly fond of you. He asked me how the twins were getting on at school before he asked for anything about me.”

She froze, and you raised a brow.

“It’s also not like you to let some guy take you out. For dinner.” You added.

She glanced away, then back at you, slowly placing her pen down as she chewed the inside of her cheek.

“It’s not like that –”

“Sure it’s not.”

She sighed your name in exasperation. “We’re both regulars at this café, and we met back in January and have been friends since. Happy?” She explained rather curtly.

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Do the twins know about him? You know how protective they are over you since their dad passed.” You questioned gently.

Agnes closed her eyes, raising her hand to rub at her forehead. “They know, but they haven’t met him yet. Even if it does end up being ‘like that’, it’s been almost a decade since we lost Hiro, and it gets hard trying to raise two very energetic boys and keep a steady roof over their heads.” She stared into her drink with a faraway look as she recalled her late husband. “This world wasn’t built for women to be alone, and as infuriating as that sounds, I’ve been backed into a corner so many times that I only see someone like him as my one ticket out.”

Silence stretched between the two of you, as you let the words your aunt spoke about your uncle sink in. She hardly ever spoke of Hiro, so mentioning him now meant how serious she was.

“Alright.” You said softly, and her head raised to look at you. “I know I have no place telling who you can and can’t talk to, but please make sure both the twins and you are happy and safe. The last thing I want is a repeat of these last two years.”

A dark shadow crossed her face. “Oh believe me, it won’t.” she assured in a low tone. “If I knew the police weren’t going to show, I would have strangled Beatrice before she stepped a foot out the house.”

Nodding, you sighed, finally relaxing back in your seat as a natural silence fell over the two of you. Bringing the tea to your lips, you bathed in the fumes, watching passersby as they fought against the onslaught of the oncoming blizzard, and pondered about the possibilities of your first day at the radio company that sat on the opposite side of the street. Eyes unfocused, you stared blankly at the double doors that led into the towering brick building, thinking about when spring would come round and you could start to wear your summer dresses, but you focused back in when the double doors opened, and you watched as a man stepped out.

You couldn’t see his face, as it was lowered against the wind, but you recognised the mop of neatly styled, dark, brown hair that you had spotted earlier, but that was quickly hidden by the fedora he placed on his head, and your eyes caught the light of his round glasses, as they glinted in the dying light of the cloud-smothered sun, before he turned his shiny heel and strode down the street, seemingly not at all worried about slipping on patches of icy, packed snow.

What caught your eye the most, though, was how insanely tall this man was, and you figured – even at your tall height – that the top of your head would barely reach his nose, even on your tiptoes.

(Though, there was always the option to jump up and collide your forehead with his – if the need arises, of course.)

Unfortunately for you, however, this lanky ladder of a man was crossing the street.

Right towards the café.

Right towards you.

And you were basically turned in your seat to stare the demons out of this guy.

The brim of his hat began to raise, and you practically spun on the spot, the tea in your mug sloshing about, and you came face to face with your aunt, who had clearly seen the one-sided staring match you had had with the stranger.

Feeling the eyes of the man boring into the side of your temple, as you assumed he had seen you move at the speed of light to avoid looking at him, you smiled sheepishly at Agnes, who was not-so-subtly darting her eyes between the two of you.

A few seconds ticked on by at the speed of a snail, and it wasn’t until you aunt muttered a ‘He’s gone’, that you felt yourself deflate in relief, slumping in your chair as you gingerly put the mug in your hands back down on the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the back of the man’s trench coat as he carried on down the street out of sight, and you faced the woman in front of you.

“Sooo,” she began as she tried to hide the growing smile on her face. “Who’s that?”

“No clue.” You stated bluntly, eager to move the conversation along, lest your aunt turned into one of the women in your village, who would talk non-stop about their sons and grandsons when they found out you weren’t being courted. Or they would pester your mother about it. Either way, getting married was definitely not on your bucket list – and you wouldn’t be surprised if that lasted your whole life – you were quite satisfied with the thought of surrounding yourself with cats instead.

“Oh nuh-uh.” Agnes deadpanned, wagging a finger. “You don’t get to prod at me about men and not let me retaliate. Besides, Mr ‘No-Clue’ seemed an awfully pretty lad~”

You huffed. “Well I wouldn’t know, I’ve only clearly seen the back of his head, and according to Mr Durham,” you explained, lifting your hands to count on your fingers. “His name could be either David, Jeff, Al, Brian, or Ol’ Timmy.”

She raised a brow at you. “He looked like a David. Either way.” She smirked. “Your mum wouldn’t mind having someone like him as her son-in-law.”

You pouted. “Agnes, please.”

All your aunt did was laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gonne be uploading some art of MC soon >:))))

I hope you've enjoyed what I've given you so far, see you soon for Chapter 4!!

Please let me know if you want to be added to the Taglist!

< Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 >

Return to Fic Masterlist

Return to Navigation

Taglist: @theredviolets @mybrainsautocorrect @all-user-error @belos-simp69 @boogiemansbitch @elio-ee @snowlotr @mistresslemonsuger @sugasweettea @jaygrl22 @mysterypotatoink @yunimimii @threefingeredpencil @mydeardelphi @glowinthedarkbones1150 @fluffismystaplefood @writer-girl99 @rl800 @the-unhinged-raccoon @riritvt @melodyidk @ray-rook @artstorieshusbandos

[everlasting-rainfall]

Hi I read your ocs and I find them interesting , if you have pictures of them I would love to see them , also idk if you call this a request but in the pages keep turning so how would Yandere Koby work ? I’m curious :)

Hey, I’m so very glad that you find them interesting! I’ve been making quite a few more since that post like I’m unsure of how many there are now in all honesty…

I am actually working on some aesthetic boards for them however which will feature their appearances, I only have four done at the time of writing this…

But I’ll probably post them once o have a good few more done! Don’t quote me on that though…

Anyways before I start rambling! Let’s get into your request, darling!

Also in advance, this probably isn’t my best work so please be prepared

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL-!

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

Delusions, Overly Obsessed Fans, Death of a Fictional Character from a Book, Stalking, Implied Murder (?), More than Likely Out of Characterness

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL-!

So honestly I can personally imagine that how Koby would have gotten into your book series is that Helmeppo got him into the series as romance novels seem right up his alley so it was like they had absolutely nothing to do one day and Koby was bored

In comes Helmeppo having bought the newest book in the series to read, Koby took an interest because it’s something else to do other than sit around and wait for something to happen

Proceed to Helmeppo info dumping about the entire series when Koby asks only for him to stop the blond and request to borrow the books so he could read them

Helmeppo handed them over almost immediately as he was excited to get someone else into this series with him and Koby started his journey through the books

In all honesty, he was a little off put by the fact that one of the main love interests starts off the book series by aiding another pirate crew in burning down the MC’s hometown but he keeps reading until the Marine love interest is introduced

And almost immediately his interest is peaked as the chemistry that these two have together is so captivating to the point where he’s rooting for the two of them to get together

Like he imagines every little moment so vividly in his head like did the Marine catch the MC as she was about to fall only for them to end up in a somewhat romantic looking position? Koby imagines every little single detail about the scene even down to exactly how the sun is shining

Honestly as well, I wouldn’t be too surprised if he started talking about it in depth with Helmeppo for as long as they could when there’s nothing to be done like the two of them are obsessed with this series

Helmeppo more in a “God, I love this series” sort of sense and although Koby is starting off the same way, that will change very soon…

As when Koby is rereading one of the books to pass the time one day, he finds himself imagining something… He starts to imagine himself as the Marine Love Interest

He imagines himself getting in the face of the Pirate Love Interest and telling him off for his mistreatment of the MC, he imagines himself swooping in and protecting the MC from danger in any way that he has to, he even imagines himself in the romantic scenes

Honestly Koby tries to ignore these thoughts at first and just read as clearly the Marine Love Interest isn’t him until Helmeppo tells him something that makes his heart skip a beat

“Hey, Koby! The author had some art done for the books and check it out! Captain Starfish reminds me so much of you!”

So Koby looks and you would think that he just saw himself on the cover of the book as the Marine Love Interest is a somewhat skinny man with pink hair and glasses

It’s after this that he convinces himself that it must be completely fine for him to imagine himself in the role of the Marine Love Interest considering that he looks just like him in his own personal opinion

And as he reads the books as they come out, Koby finds himself falling in love with the MC… They’re so sweet and caring, that scene where they patched up the Marine after he protected them as well was wonderful

Koby has even had a few dreams where he would meet the MC in real life and the two of them would be able to be together and be happy as he would protect them from anything that dared to try and hurt them alongside treat them exactly how they deserved to be treated

In the end though, the MC isn’t real so he just has to keep those fantasies to himself…

But as he reads through the last book in the series, he finds that the Marine has to leave resulting in the MC being in the care of the Pirate Love Interest as it’s a dangerous time right now with a lot of dangerous pirates running about

He’s disappointed by this but it’s fine, he’s sure that the Marine Love Interest will come back soon but nope… He keeps reading and the main focus of this book appears to be the Pirate Love Interest…

No matter though, it’s the last book of the series and he’s absolutely sure that the Marine Love Interest will return and the MC and him will wind up together in a loving relationship. He’s absolutely sure of it especially with the moments where the MC waits impatiently for any contact from the Marine

Until… Something happens that makes his heart sink down to the pits of his stomach during the big fight scene on the high seas where the Pirate and Marine join forces with their respective groups to finally bring down the villain…

Koby finds this all so weird at first as there’s so much of the book left, surely the rest couldn’t just be an epilogue… But you would think that this man just saw someone kill his dog when he reads…

All of sudden, a scream rang out in the air followed by booms so loud they could take your hearing away… Cannonballs zipped through the air and crashed directly into Captain Starfish’s Boat…

The resulting explosions lit up the night and the boat quickly caught fire… It was something straight out of a nightmare as the once proud Captain alongside his group sunk into the dark stormy depths on the once great ship known as the Reef Rider

Koby almost in a panic reread that part and over again until he had to just put the book down for a minute to process what had just happened

The Marine Love Interest just died… That couldn’t have just happened, could it? But when he read it again, he found himself sucking air in through his teeth like he had just been cut

The character that he had come to envision as himself had just died during the final battle with the enemy… After that, Koby had to put the book down for a few days and continue it later as he tried to distract himself and focus on his work as a Marine but the visuals wouldn’t leave his head

Eventually when Helmeppo finished reading the story, he reluctantly asked what happened only to be told that the MC got with the Pirate Love Interest after he helped her grieve

This was such bullshit! And Helmeppo agreed! Why would they wind up together when the Pirate Love Interest was first introduced having aided in burning the MC’s hometown to the ground? That was awful!

After that, Helmeppo moved onto a different romance novel series but Koby stayed fixated on this ending… That had to be one of the worst things that he has ever heard in his entire life… How could the author have possibly written something like that?

Clearly the Marine and the MC were made for each other! They had perfect chemistry and he could envision the two of them staying together for the rest of their lives!

Koby tried to move on from the series just like Helmeppo had done but no matter what he did, no other book really grabbed him like the one that you had written

So Koby wound up dropping romance novels much to Helmeppo’s disappointment, the pink haired marine would occasionally go back to the other books in the series and reread all of his favorite scenes

It was so hard to believe that all of these pretty much meant nothing now that the MC had wound up with the Pirate and the Marine was at the bottom of the ocean… Literally…

Why would you do this? How could you do this? He just didn’t understand…

Until he finally went back and reread the dreaded scene… He read it with a frown on his face and dread in his heart up until the scene where the Reef Rider finally goes down which is when he thinks of something…

He goes and reads every single little detail… All of the enemies boats weren’t close enough for an attack like that… They had a higher chance of all of their shots missing and landing in the water than all of them hitting and the Main Villain’s crew weren’t exactly known for their accuracy…

So who could it have been? Well… The only one who was close enough to have all of their shots hit like that was the Pirate Love Interests boat…

And now that he reads more… Isn’t it just so very convenient that almost all of the Marine Love Interests group went down in that fight while the Pirate’s group did have quite a few ships go down but not nearly as many as the Marines?

Very suspicious if you ask him… And he’s starting to see the whole picture…

The Pirate Love Interest couldn’t stand that the Marine was going to have the MC in the end and he did this to ensure that he couldn’t have them! It all made so much sense to Koby!

That Pirate was evil and the ending where the two of them stood together with him holding the MC? That was no happy ending… That was the bad end where the Pirate’s Jealousy for the Marine had won keeping the best pairing apart forever!

It all made sense to him and when he told Helmeppo all about it, you could practically see the gears turning in the blonds head as he listened to every single word that came out of his friends mouth until even he was convinced that was probably what happened

Koby had it all figured out so he decided to write his very own ending to the story, one where the Marine had survived the battle and revealed to everyone the disturbing deeds of the pirate causing one last fight between the two of them where the Marine would come out on top

Both he and Helmeppo absolutely loved it, they both decided right then and there that was it the canon ending to the story and reading what he had wrote

It felt so right… Something about it just felt so correct like he had lived this moment himself… Having defeated the Pirate Love Interest a long time ago and wound up with you

He honestly wished that he could show it to the actual author at some point as he was sure that the author would like it just as much as he did, it seemed like he would get that wish too as when he was on a small island for some Marine business

He found out that there was apparently a book signing event being hosted by the author, he desperately wanted to go so he could show you what he had written but of course he had Marine things to take care of so he finished them up as soon as he possibly could

He genuinely looked like he was speedrunning as he went about what he was doing but the second that he was done and had free time, he ran as fast as he possibly could to the book signing only to find that it was already over and closing up for the day

His heart sank and he was about to leave only to hear a voice…

“Oh sorry… You got here a little late, huh?”

He turned towards the source of the voice and almost gasped when he laid eyes upon you because not only was the author of the book standing directly behind him but you looked exactly like how he had envisioned the MC to look down to the smallest detail

It’s quite literally like you stepped out of the book just to be here with him and he found himself in a stunned silence as he stared at you causing you to give him an awkward smile and offer to sign his book for him

When he continued to not say anything, you waved your hand in front of his face and tried to get his attention only for him to finally snap out of his stunned silence and say that he didn’t bring his copy but he does have something for you to read

You took it and you looked it over, he wasn’t sure if you liked it or not but he was absolutely sure that you would! Clearly you were in love with him as he was starting to actually believe that he was the Marine Love Interest despite the fact that he has never been an Admiral

Once you were finished, you told him that it was a really nice alternate ending but that the Pirate wasn’t the one responsible for the destruction of the Reef Rider or the death of Captain Starfish as that was all the Main Villain’s fault that Captain Starfish had died

Koby couldn’t believe what he was hearing and when he tried to explain everything saying that it had to of been the Pirate, you claimed that it was just a mistake on your part as a writer that the Main Villain couldn’t have been able to make the shot

You wound up giving his alternate ending right back to him and telling him that it was well written but the Pirate wouldn’t shoot down Captain Starfish like that as the two had become friends before that point in the story

Koby was left standing there after that just watching you leave the building that had hosted your book signing, he couldn’t believe that you couldn’t see it like he could!

You were the MC after all as there was absolutely not a single doubt in his mind about that and you just chalked up what had happened to a mistake in your writing? No way, that couldn’t be the case!

Koby refused to accept this in all honesty so despite his better judgement, he started to follow you around as you went and saw you do so many things that honestly just made him more convinced you were the MC and made him fall in love with you more…

Like did you stop and help that lost child who got separated from their parents? That’s so caring of you, he’s sure that you’ll make a great parent to any kids that you have in the future! Plus it’s just like what you did for the kid in the book!

Did you buy those vegetables on your way home to prepare for dinner? You’re a good cook too which is great as he’s sure that you can make some beautiful things together! Plus it’s just like how you made that vegetable soup for him when he was injured!

You were perfect and watching you go about your day absolutely proved it for him… You were lovely… Why couldn’t you see what he saw?

And he believed that he soon found his answer as he saw you meet up with someone, a man who looked just a bit too much like the Pirate in Koby’s eyes

Ah… So that was the reason…

The Pirate was here and when he saw the two of you getting just a bit too friendly for his liking (probably not even romantic), Koby felt his blood boil a bit as he did know that not all pirates are evil but this one was surely one of the worst of the bunch

Koby understood now… The reason that you couldn’t see what he saw is because of the Pirate… Koby was sure that he was likely forcing you to write the story and that he was actually horrible to you behind the scenes

Don’t worry though… Koby is going to make everything all better as he’s already making plans to save you from that evil pirate…

He’ll take you far away from the Pirate and the two of you can be together just like you were always meant to be! It’ll be great!

And if the Pirate Love Interest tries to prevent it? Well if push comes to shove then Koby isn’t above getting some revenge for sending the Reef Rider to the bottom of the ocean…