#regarding the soulmate prompts

[kurvinitty]

i'm about to go crazy go stupid n fully unapologetic with writing fanfics n embracing the personal blog vibes™ again all thanks to @renru

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: Tim as a child was never given a lot of information regarding the scribbling messy handwriting that appeared over night all over his arms- naturally he came to his own conclusions.

Tim Drake was home entirely alone at 9 years old and was about to go out for the night to test his brand new long exposure camera lens when he sees the writing on his arm. It’s not English, like he assumed it was at first, but it was using the alphabet to represent… Tim isn’t bad at math but this formula is complex for his little genius brain.

Looking at his camera, he decides he can spare a moment to look it up, solve it, and get back out into old town Gotham in time for Batman and Robin’s final patrol lap. He does just that, finding the problem to relate to some aerospace engineering and then quickly deduces what laws and theorems need to be applied. He finds a pen, writes down his findings in much neater handwriting onto his arm, and goes out. It’s barely a remarkable night at all. He gets a much more memorable photo of Robin roundhouse kicking a hench person.

Things just continued on that way. Tim would find some complex math, physics or chemistry prompt on his arm (surrounded by various question marks or notes or sad faces)- he’d answer it as best he could and move on with his life. Perhaps his parents were manifesting these pop quizzes? Perhaps his subconscious felt guilty about abandoning his studies for more Bat related pursuits? Tim really didn’t care to think much about it once he became Robin- there was too much on his plate and too many peoples problems for him to fix.

Notably, however, after the attack at the Tower, the pop quiz appeared and Tim wrote back that he wouldn’t be able to find an answer to this one. It was the only time Tim questioned the markings appearance and it was because the next thing that appeared was “Hope you feel better soon.”

… his parents wouldn’t include that on a pop quiz. Cursed then. Tim decided it must be a curse, whatever, he’d deal with the implications later in life.

Tim then has the worst year of his life, hes 15, no longer Robin and the questions from his curse are getting less math oriented and more… philosophical. A lot of mentions of death that, in hindsight helped him actually grieve, and a lot of theories about dark matter and souls. Tim answers back as best he can but he’s drained and his answers aren’t very good in his opinion. He gets minimal feedback.

It all comes to a point that he’s at a family dinner, Bruce is at the head of the table, Jason has promised just to stay for dessert, Damian hasn’t thrown a single insult his way and Steph was laughing at him- when a new theoretical model appears on his arm.

“You’re just as bad as Bruce, Timberly. Hiding a soulmate from all of us, how fucking typical.” Jason points out, while watching Tim scribble back some math with a question mark onto his arm.

“A what? No, this is just a curse. I get pop quizzes every now and then.” Tim bats away Steph who rapidly approaches and began to analyze his arm (the rest of the family isn’t far behind).

“Drake. Explain how you came to this conclusion.” Damian seems more curious than anything, if his lack of insults was anything to go off of.

“Since I was young I’ve had at least weekly math check ins, I never had a parent or anyone else around so I assumed my parents had me cursed to ensure I stayed on top of my studies. Sometimes it’s physics or chemistry, for a while there it was a ton of philosophy and behavioral psychology.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Master Tim, I believe the lack of adults in your life has led you towards a false conclusion. That is most certainly a soulmate mark. The individual to whom you are responding is undoubtedly your other half.” Alfred attempts to calm the room before explaining to Tim. Tim isnt sure if he believes the butler, though Alfred only very rarely lied, so he grabs the pen once more. He writes his first question back: “Who am I to you?”

The room waits in anticipation and within moments a brand new line appears on Tim’s arm and he is vindicated: “We do math together???”

——

The reason Danny is failing English is because his built in homework helper sucks ass at metaphors and has apparently never read any classic literature. The tutor on his arm is great at puzzles and math tho.

Danny gets a reply back one night that he wasn’t expecting (Who am I to you?) and he mentions it to Jazz. Who goes insane that Danny didn’t even question it and just went with “meh, probably haunted” as his explanation for the phenomenon for all these years.

Apparently, if Jazz was right, he had a soulmate who was uh, super fucking smart. That was an overwhelming thought.

The next day Danny is in crisis mode and writes back “Wait, WHAT AM I TO YOU??? Can I help on your homework??”

Danny gets vindicated when the writing on his arm presents a shit ton of dates and information for an unsolved Gotham cold case. See, Haunted.

———

Eventually between Danny becoming the top candidate for astrophysics at Wayne Enterprises and Tim Drake being outed as having contributed tips to the GCPD that solved cold cases- they meet and realize just how dumb they’ve been.

[anika-ann]

Sweet and Ours, Tonight - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, domestic... filth

Pairing: Steve Rogers x wife!reader   Word Count: 5,8k

Summary:  You and Steve had a long, long week.

You both deserve a reward. Perhaps an evening with undivided attention to each other... and maybe to end the endless week with a bang.

The thing is, Steve has no idea about what’s awaiting him at home. Yet, you have a feeling he will like it - and he'll be happy to show you.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, praise kink, slight authority kink, soft dom/sub elements (with a tad dominant Steve), a sprinkle of possessiveness, potential blasphemy, lingerie kink, marriage kink (if that's a thing), mention of (tender) hair pulling, mention of semi-public sex if you squint really hard, language, FLOOF

A/N: At the time of Cum Together: Community Revival Extravaganza  hosted by @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420, there were two potential stories on my mind – the soulmate AU one, which I ended up writing, and this one, which fulfils multiple prompts from the list (see the end). The extravaganza is long over – but hopefully, you’ll enjoy 💕

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @saradika; enjoy, but it's smut y'all - read at your own risk and responsibility

Setting the half-full glass of water on the counter, you smiled to yourself as you heard the keys rattle in the lock. The sound meant one of your favourite things in the world: Steve was home.

‘Home’ was your spacious shared apartment near the new upstate Avengers facility, one you and Steve had chosen not because the large complex hadn’t included living quarters, but because you had wanted a place that was truly your own.

On days like this, you were more grateful for that decision than ever. Here, the work and the weight you carried from it could be left at the doorstep, and you could enter a truly safe space, shielded by your love from the outside world. World which could be loud, overwhelming, and at times, evil.

Today, it meant that Steve would try to leave behind the exhaustion and frustration of a week-long conference of the United Nations and adjoined organisations. You, you had left behind the very same sentiments lacing the endless week of extra shifts. Sometimes it felt like the work was never done; be it patching up international relations or patching up the dumbass of the day. Be it dealing with diplomats who barely even listened, let alone acted on their empty promises; or be it repairing damage to human body made by another supposedly human being, battling to keep alive agents who not so rarely held zero regard for their own safety in the process of saving the very world for whose safety Steve was advocating in DC. You wondered where the agents could have possibly got the inspiration for their reckless behaviour – but that was not the kind of thoughts you wanted to entertain tonight, especially since you knew the answer all too well.

Tonight, you wanted to cherish your husband’s company.

You had missed Steve; even when swamped with work, you both took care to stay in contact, confiding one another on as much of your longing for each other’s company as on feeling drained.

You were glad for having had enough wits to plan ahead and be able to come home before him.

It had been no surprise to you that Steve had called you that he was about to arrive home as scheduled, but crankier than planned despite finally leaving the self-contained self-important jerks behind. The relief in his voice had been palpable; and his voice had only grown warmer when he learned you were to already wait for him at home. Your lips had twitched at the guttural sigh he released upon learning, whispering he was really happy to hear that; as were you to hear that he was coming home in one piece, which was unfortunately not a rule.

He loved you, he had said too. So damn much.

You had told him the same, wondering if that was what would leave his lips when he’d see you. Especially since he had no idea what coming his way, should he want it.

The lock barely clicked open and you were already on your way. A rapid carpet-muted staccato of your heels welcomed Steve as he entered, his curiosity clearly piqued in an instant.

He had but a second to take in your appearance – the bloody red pumps, the peek of nude nylons, the beige trench coat reaching just above your knees, your simple but effective hairdo and make-up, dominated by berry-red lipstick – or get his suitcase through the doors and close them. Before he could say as much as hi, you were already cupping his face and kissing him softly, for once not having to stand on your tiptoes too high.

There was a significant part of you which was dangerously close to jumping on him with enough force to slam him against the door and pour all your enthusiasm at seeing him into the kiss. It had taken all your willpower not to do so since your body throbbed with the need – but you didn’t want him to feel ambushed, unsure about his mood. So you revelled in the precious opportunity to touch him, in the feel of the figurative and literal warmth he was radiating, in the taste of his lips you had missed so viscerally; and with the minute mental capacity left, you tried your best to read his reaction.

It would be a shame for your plan and efforts to go to waste; but the last thing you’d want was to push thoroughly exhausted Steve who’d just want some peace into something he’d… be willing but not excited to do.

Your worries were fruitless, however. Steve’s hands came to life immediately, one reaching for your waist, the other to cradle your cheek. His lips responded in kind, even as his smile tasted of surprise. The tension you had got a brief glimpse of melted away from his shoulders, fingertips caressing your skin, nose gently nudging yours as your lips parted, forehead to forehead.

“Hi,” you breathed out contentedly, feeling the tension leaving you as well, warmth spreading through every vein and nerve in your body at Steve’s gentle chuckle instead.

“Hi, love.”

“Welcome home.”

His smile was as nothing short of blinding when he retreated just a bit to look at you and grace you with a shining gaze roaming your face, as if taking in every feature, every line, every arch, every last eyelash for the first time. Your heart thump-thumped in your chest happily as your hands slid to his neck, unable to tear your gaze away from the beautiful image he made.

A man with love.

Your man.

Your husband.

Your extremely handsome husband; every suit, be it a formal wear or his tactical one, accentuated his wide shoulders and sharply cut jaw you couldn’t but run your fingertips over, marvelling at the pure delight in his face.

“I feel very much welcomed, sweetheart,” he assured you, squeezing your waist. Despite being clearly exhausted, his smile was radiant; until it fell a fraction. “Are you going out?”

Your heart hummed with a soft ache; it was impossible to miss his effort not to look disappointed as not to make you feel guilty for having a social life outside your marriage, even if rather inconveniently timed. Bless his good, good heart.

You shook your head with your smile lingering, barely hiding a smirk. “I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Rogers.”

His expression perked up again, his arm sneaking further around your waist as he observed you with playful curiosity. “Oh? Are we going out? Did you plan something, Mrs. Rogers?”

To highlight his indulgence in calling you that – and god knew hearing him say that still sent butterflies to your stomach even after months of that being a reality – his hand moved from your cheek to take you left hand, fingers interlacing; your wedding bands made a soft clinking noise as they met, Steve’s gaze flickering to their combined light with such undiluted joy in that little action you couldn’t but brush your lips over his again, something deep inside you trembling and preening at once.

Your husband.

“Would it be a bad thing? If I did plan something?” you asked, part coy, part genuine. “It’s okay if you’re not in mood for that.”

Steve only smiled wider, dropping a kiss to your knuckles and then your lips, before pulling back just a fraction. He observed you silently and almost absently, yet seemingly with mission-level intent. 

The silence stretched as you awaited his answer, encouraging him – and yourself, because the silence was growing louder with every beat of your heart – with a suddenly unsure smile.

“Steve? Love?”

He blinked, shaking his head lightly. Before you could feel your stomach drop in disappointment at this being his answer, he spoke up.

“Sorry, you… you look beautiful. Got a little distracted here.”

Your belly did a funny flip-flop that had no right to be so deep within; but this gorgeous man had no right to be so perfect either. And you loved him for it.

“I don’t mind going out or staying,” he said softly. “I’m honestly just glad to be home. With you. That’s my favourite thing in the world. Being with you… here, in the home we made together.”

Tremble. Something within you trembled and it was almost comical how those words shook and soothed your soul, a sharp contrast to how very non-poetic your intention to seduce his body was. But that was how you seduced each other the first time and did so over and over again; body, mind and soul alike, tipping the scales in favour of one and then the other and back as the situation allowed.

It was your turn to blink now, fighting the burn of tears in your eyes, threatening to spill at the profound sincerity in Steve’s voice and the adoration in his beautiful blues; they turned all the prettier as a spark of mischief lit them up and he stepped back, releasing you from his warm embrace.

“But, since you got all dolled-up and clearly made plans, it would be a waste. Want to tell me what my orders are, ma’am?”

Excitement lighting up your nerves anew, you stepped back with a hum.

“Well… actually, I made plans to stay in…” Steve’s eyebrow arched a bit, but something beautifully dark flashed in his eyes – a mute understanding that whatever you had planned, you had dolled up for him. For him and him only. “And since you said those people there were all talk, no listening, no action… I thought that maybe you’d a like a change of scenery.”

As you took another step back further into the apartment, Steve discarded his shoes in a lightning speed, his gaze never leaving your face, hanging on your lips for every syllable. 

You bit back a satisfied smile, something hot stirring in your belly. “That maybe, you’d like someone who can listen very well, and is willing to… act? Would you like to tell me my orders, Captain?”

His gaze went to roam – from the top to bottom, drinking in your attire, a perfect trap you had set for both of you to tangle in. The tall red heels. The coat for him to untie. The nylons – which Steve at this point must have understood were, in fact, thigh-highs, perhaps strapped to a garter belt. The hair. That lipstick. That damn lipstick that turned his eyes a shade darker and hungrier, his voice dropping two octaves.

“Is that what you want, sweetheart?”

You raised a challenging brow, a coy smile adorning your red red lips as you toyed with the hem of your coat; Steve knew you well-enough by now to know that you wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble if you hadn’t wanted that. You wanted.

You wanted him, with every fibre of your being, lit alive and reborn divine under his searing hot gaze. You longed to be his, however he pleased. To please him however you could.

At last, he got the message. He seemed to very much revel in that message, in fact.

“Let’s go to the bedroom then.”

He led you by the hand, even though you both knew the way and had walked it many times before, even when blinded by desire, with lips never parting, frantic stumbles and wandering impatient hands. Tonight, there was no rush; steps deliberately slow, you followed his lead, standing still by the doorway when he let go of your hand in favour of stripping his suit jacket as soon as you entered.

Your eyes followed his every move, indulging in the sight of his muscles rippling under the smooth fabric of his white shirt; indulging in the shudder of realization running down his body, coming after his brief confusion of finding you obediently exactly where he had left you.

You barely bit back a smirk at the way his breath hitched.

“Alrighte,” he breathed out as he walked to the foot of the bed, turning his back to it to look at you.

You had never had a man to look at you like that before; his gaze was like the most delicious shockwave igniting every cell in your body with desire and pride.

His. You were your own woman, but goddamn, were you his.

“Alright. Come here, sweetheart.”

You did. Hooked on his burning gaze as he seemed hypnotized by your every step, by every inch erased between you, you walked to him, only stopping when he settled his wide palm over your hip, his other hand soon joining on the other side.

For a moment, he simply observed you, your parted lips, your eyes blown wide, just as aroused by the dynamics as he was. Then, a warm yet mischievous smile lifted the corners of his lips, hands squeezing your hips.

You weren’t sure what you had expected – a kiss, a toss on the bed, his hands ripping the fabric, all things you had encountered and more – but of all options, he chose the one your mind had not offered at the moment. His hands slid lower, inch by inch as he kneeled in front of you, sitting back on his heels, the heat of his skin seeping into yours the second his palms slipped past the edge of the fabric of your coat.

Sensual. Steve was most definitely in mood for sensual tonight and you were not going to complain if for nothing else than for having trouble breathing as his fingertips traced the thin ankle strap of your shoe, warm fingers delicately circling your ankle, cupping your calf, sneaking past your knee to spread over the back of your thigh, inching your legs apart so he could move the coat out of the way and press a lingering kiss to your where the lace of your thigh-high met bare skin of your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched in your throat when his free hand reached for the loose knot on your coat, dextrous fingers undoing it with ease and tugging, all while his lips brushed over your sensitive skin higher and higher towards the apex of your thigh.

“Take it off, love,” he whispered into your heat, tugging at the hem of your coat, the index finger of his other hand slipping under the strap of your garter belt, nosing along your inner thigh and inhaling deeply.

A shudder ran down your spine at the huskiness of his voice, leaving you with no space to even consider embarrassment at your husband’s need to drown himself in the scent of your arousal; you busied yourself with stripping the coat in five seconds flat and dropping it on the floor, rewarded by his warm breathy chuckle.

“So good for me…” He looked up from his spot, caressing along the line of your panties, feasting his eyes on the delicate lace hugging your breasts, at the elaborate but feather-light pattern on your garter belt, at the barely-there panties covering your sex. The smoulder in his pupils as his gaze zeroed on his price was almost too much to bear. Whether you were shy or impatient, you couldn’t tell, but your chest was heaving with every breath, your back arching just a bit at the praise that stroked something deep within you. “My beautiful, irresistible wife…”

“Steve-“

He returned his attention to your thigh, sucking a lovebite just above the hem of your stocking, soothing the offended spot with a butterfly-soft kiss you couldn’t help but sigh his name at again.

He hooked his fingers at the front straps of your garter, urging you forward, closer, as he sat on the floor, back leaning against the foot of the bed, tilting his head back and resting in on the mattress; a content smile played on his lips as if it was the most comfortable spot in the apartment, his hands roaming appreciatively. Over the curve of your hip. Following the pattern of the lace. Along the straps, along the hem. But never, never where your need for him burned, soaking the excuse of underwear over your sex.

“Didn’t have such pretty view in D.C.,” he mused, gaze trailing over the thin fabric already shining with your arousal, trailing all over your body to your face, to your red lips painted just as you knew he loved them. “Never ceases to amaze me. Like a piece of art. So damn perfect… mine to touch.”

You didn’t have timefor body insecurities with Steve. Any imperfection you saw, it didn’t bother him; he’d kiss you everywhere, claiming and loving every piece of your body and soul and mind, as he hadn’t forgotten to mention when he proposed; and then followed up with proving the first part of his claim with intense but the softest damn loving.

The memory of him getting on one knee with a glimmer of tears in his eyes quickly dispersed when his maddeningly delicate touch finally brushed over your slit, your hips instinctively bucking forward; Steve instantly used the opportunity to spread his palms under your bottom, urging you closer and closer until the front of your thighs met the mattress, effectively caging him in, mouth not more than an inch from your mound. He smiled up at you wickedly, forefinger drawing nonsensical patterns over your clothed sex.

“Steve, love-“

You lost your voice when he guided your knee to prop on the mattress next to his head, a violent tug of desire gripping at your core at the implication of what he wanted – stirring as much want as insecurity and hesitance.

You voice was shaky as your gaze found his, the question on your lips so quiet he might miss it hadn’t it been for his enhanced hearing.

“Steve, are you… sure?”

One glance into his eyes told you was more than that.

And the mere thought of him doing what he was leading you towards felt like molten lava poured into your veins, nothing but smouldering heat left behind.

You had never done that. Not with him, not with anyone else.

It was true that Steve could get rather intense when it came to love making – or shameless fucking – but he always drew significant amount of his pleasure from your own. Your husband was but a giver, even as he always coaxed you to give it to him. He had sure been far from shy or prudish in the privacy of your quarters – or in certain cases no one must ever learn about, elsewhere – and he enjoyed all kinds of things, his mouth on you among them. You had explored together, dived into depths of pleasure you hadn’t thought were possible. But you hadn’t---not like this.

Not with you basically on top of his goddamn face.

“Are you?” he asked, pressing a brief kiss to the juncture of your thighs, looking at you from under his eyelashes with a challenge and a plea.

In your exploration, he had pushed your limits; but never you. He’d never do anything that seemed even tad too uncomfortable for you. As of consequence, there was virtually nothing you wouldn’t let him do, because you trusted him to stop at the first sign of your protest.

Okay. Okay. The utter wanton in his eyes shining through the sincerity was melting your brain. No choice to make.

You nodded, rewarded by a satisfied smirk that would have earned anyone else a smack to their face. But with Steve, there was something dangerously alluring about that instead; that smirk meant paradise aligning with hell awaiting you, whispered of you soon begging him – to stop or to continue, you’d never quite know yourself.

“Well then, remember you promised to listen… and do.”

Little shit, was as far as you got in your thoughts.

Because then he was wrapping a firm arm around your leg on the bed and pushing your panties aside and after a few teasingly careful licks, he began his feast like a starved man seated at the royal table.

Your hands found purchase on his hair and the bed, knees nearly buckling under the assault of pleasure, burning through your body like a wildfire. The way his wicked tongue played with you had you gasping his name in need bordering on desperation, chest tight as you were forgetting to breathe, core clenching so soon you couldn’t quite believe it as the tidal wave of bliss washed over you, hips rocking in aftershocks, knees eventually giving out.

It was only for a split second that you worried you might smother Steve or splatter ungracefully on the floor; because Steve had you. He always had you. His supersoldier part undeniable, he caught you, manipulating your body so he could cradle you protectively as you came from your high and literal height, holding you against his chest as you straddled him with seemingly boneless legs.

You were hyperaware of every bit of praise spilling from your lips, whispered to your skin warmly, but you couldn’t form words.

Not until his lips found yours, meeting in a soft kiss spiced with the tang of your essence, the most intimate kiss between lovers. He pushed the hair from your face tenderly, eyes both hungry and soft as if you weren’t soaking his dress pants where your core met his evident arousal and you weren’t both panting as if you had just run a marathon. His hand caressed up and down your spine, over and over, as if to ground you in reality.

A peck to your cheek. To your mouth. Your lips coming back to life at least, pressing to his jaw, to his smile.

“Could stay like this forever,” he whispered, nose trailing along your cheek, leaving a kiss under your ear, drawing a breathless chuckle from you. “With you in my arms, your taste on my lips, head swimming from your sweet perfume and everything that’s you… my wonderful wife… “

Blinking owlishly, you met his gaze as he cradled your cheek, hair a beautiful messy hallo from where you had tried to hold on when he was devouring you. His lips found yours again, a gentle murmur.

“You’re my everything, you know that?”

You did. By god you did. It was impossible not to, even as that fact was but a pure stroke of a miracle. He was your everything too. Your alfa and your omega. Your weakness and your strength. Your love, unshakable foundation even on days when everything including his own hands did shake. Your home, whenever you’d go.

You ran your fingers through his golden locks, expression nothing short of tender, touch nothing short of reverent – as one should be when in face of a miracle.

“And you’re my home,” you whispered back.

Seconds ticked by in soft silence, pleasure still tingling all over your body, but it was the overwhelming love and need in Steve’s gaze that consumed you completely.  

You didn’t dare to blink. You didn’t dare to breathe. You simply watched him living through a moment as precious to him as he was to you, electric tension rising and almost audibly crackling in the air.

And then he was gripping your nape, mouth claiming and devouring, one hand sliding under your bottom to lift you in a display of strength that never failed to make you dizzy and blinded you with desire unmatched despite having just come down from your high. You returned his kiss with the same fervour, hands grasping at his shirt, frantically searching for buttons to undo and then simply tugging hard until the thread gave out and sent the buttons flying, a nip of teeth to your lips accompanied with Steve’s dark chuckle like the sweetest song of victory.

He sat down at the bed with you still straddling him, helping you strip the shirt without your lips ever parting, his hands leaving you but for the fraction of second necessary to get rid of the fabric in your way and then you were both sighing in relief when your palms met the burning skin of his sculptured chest, his wide shoulders, his clenching abs.

“Need you,” you confessed as soon as you got to breathe in, back at his lips the very next second, Steve’s large palm kneading your bottom, hips thrusting into yours and eliciting a wanton moan from you both. “And I want you in my mouth-“

A delicious growl rumbled in is chest, fingers tangled in your hair pulling just a little, tipping your head back to give him access to leave a string of kisses down the column of your throat, the deliberately slow bucks of his hips into yours never ceasing.

“You’re a wicked little thing.”

You chuckled, a cheeky remark on your painfully free lips, the delightful friction between your bodies not nearly enough to sooth your thirst.

“You do say I’m wicked smart. Why this time?”

The nip of teeth on your collarbone and the way his fingers dug into your flesh had you barely stifle a gasp, but his answer was a reward for a work well-done.

“Goddamn you, woman, you know what you do to me, especially that lipstick-”

“I know what it does to you to see it smeared in certain places,” you breathed out, silenced by a bruising kiss to your lips and a light sting on the back of your thigh as Steve pulled at one of the strings of your garter and let it snap against your skin. Your wandering hands reached for his belt, almost tasting the salty tang of him already as you’d get on your knees for him.

“Wicked,” he grunted against your mouth, lifting his hips – with you still on top – to help you strip his pants, “I thought I was giving the orders tonight.”

“Oh you do, Captain,” you assured him, revelling a little too much at the twitch against your core as you blatantly used his title against him. “Just informing you I’m willing.”

“Driving me crazy. Want you to want me just as much, to need me-“

“I do. Need to taste you-”

“Jesus Christ-“ he choked out, releasing you so you could press one last thorough kiss to his mouth and then slide down to your knees, grateful for the soft carpet.

Ridding Steve of the last piece of clothing, you took great care to maintain eye-contact as you stroked him, feather-light, and licked at the tip. The breathy sound resembling your name that left his lips when you wrapped your lips around the head sent a jolt of heat down your spine, hot satisfaction pooling in your belly and making your heart thunder in your chest.

Nothing had ever made you feel more powerful and treasured than Steve looking at you with half-lidded eyes, groaning as you took him deeper and bobbed your head, closing your lips tight around him as you pulled back to smear as much of the sinful red colour down his cock, his hands gripping the sheets so hard the fabric might tear.

God, he was gorgeous; a wrecked angel-like figure made for worship and sin, they only deity you needed, sculpted to divine perfection.

His fingers tangled gently at your hair, only to twitch repeatedly as he was holding back the strength he wanted to use keep you right there, always making you want to swallow around him harder to make him lose that control; the curses, the deliciously prolonged fuuuck tasting like a victory, the fuck-- sweetheart, you feel like heaven a blessing that stirred pure lust deep within your core.

He was done for almost too soon; a little work, a hint of a sinful smile in the corner of your lips as you watched him lose layer after layer of control to reveal the primal drive that made him just as human as any. Once your hands joining your efforts, he was spilling down your throat, eyes squeezed shut in an image of absolute heavenly ruin.

You waited for him to flutter his eyes open; not having even gone soft in your mouth, you dragged your lips down his length to leave the last red and glossy mark, the string of blasphemy leaving his mouth telling you he didn’t give a damn thing about your tear-smeared mascara but cared a whole lot about the prettily ruined lipstick. When you licked your lips as if he had just given you your favourite treat, he practically dragged you back to his lap, seemingly torn between proposing all over again and lamenting you were going to be his death.

Yet, he kissed you tenderly like a precious porcelain doll and reached for the wet wipe in the nightstand drawer to gently clean the black smears down your cheek. The smudged lipstick he indulgently wiped with his thumb before his mouth slanted over yours again, the thrumming passion between you growing louder again; you were dripping down your thighs from the appreciative gaze and the taste of him alone and Steve was rarely ever sated with climaxing just once. Especially after a week apart.

With his most acute hunger sated, however, he took time to admire the view again, even with your shoes finally discarded, indulging in the delicate lace instead, in the warmth of your body, in your perfume and the scent of your skin. His voice dropped low in volume, intimate whispers of how he wanted to see you take him deep and make you his, fingers gently stretching you to accommodate his impressive size before he led you to sink down on his length at last, filling you up so deliciously and completely.

With bodies stilled, the time seemed to slow down too. Eyes blown wide and dark, but with a sweet curl to your lips as you tasted each other over and over again, you both revelled in the sensation of being connected; brushes of fingertips, kisses to your lips, to your neck, to your sternum and breasts; to his chest, to his shoulders, to his kiss-swollen lips, wherever you could reach.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he confessed between encounters of lips, the softest voice with a husky aftertaste. “Missed this. Never going to another conference again.”

You almost chuckled at the unrealistic prospect, touched all the same.

“Missed you more… might go to a conference every once in a while. For science.”

Steve grunted in protest, palms framing your face as he observed with a slightly amused pout to his kiss-swollen lips.

“Hm. Sounds like your argument contradicts your hypothesis there, Doc.”

This time, you did chuckle a bit, raising an eyebrow even as you caressed his cheek, index finger tapping the pouty lower lip. “Well sue me, I’m a little dazed. I’m allowed. I finally have you for myself after a week, Steve.”

He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to the pad of your finger, something devilish flashing in his eyes.

“That you do. I’m all yours. My smart, beautiful wife…” he coaxed with a kiss, hand landing lightly on your waist, hips thrusting up to encourage you to roll yours. There was no need to do so twice. You rocked your pelvis, jaw falling slack at the delightful sensation. A single movement and pleasure was spreading to every nerve ending, coil in your belly forming; Steve responded in kind, urging you on to keep going and set a pace.

“So good to me, sweetheart… so precious.”

“That’s it. So damn gorgeous like that--- look at me, love.”

“Making me feel so good… love having you like this. Never gonna get enough of this, of you…”

Golden. You felt so damn golden under his touch, from inside out, caressed with every single appreciative word spilling from his lips so naturally.

God, you had needed that. You needed that more than you had realized, having pushed down all the unpleasant interactions that had piled up during the week, interactions that made you feel everything but good, precious, brilliant or gorgeous. With every word, Steve poured his faith and love into the cracks in your being and healed them, silencing every doubt, grounding you so profoundly in the pleasure you shared that every single cell in your body ignited with something divine. The coil in your belly was strung so tight you almost felt yourself falling, if you’d only--- if he’d-

“Steve, please, I need-“

“I know what you need, love. I’ve got you.”

Your climax erupted through your body with Steve’s mouth wrapped around your nipple, his dextrous fingers digging into your ass and playing with your clit.

He found his release as he kneeled behind you and caged you to his front, one hand around your throat to angle your head for a sloppy kiss, the other spread wide over your lower belly, sneaky fingertips having coaxed another Earth-shattering orgasm from you.

Somewhere along the way, your lacy attire had ended up in shreds where Steve pulled a little too hard; the remnants of garter belt and stockings were carefully stripped by Steve’s tender fingers as he cleaned you up with a warm cloth before covering you with several kisses and only then with the comforter.

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to his side and simply holding you as close as humanly possible, living and revelling in the moment just until his stomach growled.

After a semi-serious joke about taking you as a dessert for the second time, you lazily ordered take-out for three since you had worked up an appetite, moving to the couch. A movie in the background, Steve shared some of the highlights and escapades of the past few days from the conference and DC – as much as he could anyway. In return, you shared your own – as much as you could anyway. When in each other’s embrace, the trouble seemed far away; and what had felt like a path to the next Armageddon suddenly appeared considerably more manageable.

You were practically asleep, half-sprawled over Steve’s chest, when he pressed another kiss to your scalp, this time lingering.

“I love you… and thank you. That truly was a nice welcome home,” he said, bringing a ghost of a tired smile to your lips.

“It’s our home, Steve… You should always feel welcome. Loved.”

“And I do. Coming home to you is the most precious thing,” he mused, caressing your hair when you snuggled impossibly closer to him, inhaling the comforting scent of all that was him. “But you walking the extra mile… that truly makes me the luckiest guy in the universe.”

You hummed, his words warming you more thoroughly than his body and the blanket combined. You pressed a kiss to his sternum over his sleepshirt.

“And I’m the luckiest woman. I love you, Steeeve… I’m sorry-”

His chest shook under your cheek softly as your confession turned into a yawn, but he took it as a sign. He half-carried you to the bathroom and carried you entirely by the time you were done with your nighttime routine.

You murmured another love you, sleep well as you laid your head on the pillow, cradled in Steve’s protective embrace, his words reaching your ears from a terrible, terrible distance, but tasted just as sweet as ever.

“I will, love. I most definitely will.”

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Aren't they just sweet? 🥺 Happy belated birthday, Stevie 💕 I hope you enjoyed - feedback is always welcomed💕

Prompts, as promised:

Pouncing on your partner as soon as they arrive home from a trip away

“My favourite thing in the world is being here with you.”

Kinks: praise, soft!dom, oral

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go bath in holy water and pray to my muse that she'll let me write longfic too 🤭

[navybrat817]

Let You Down

Pairing: Soft!Dark Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Summary: Ari wants to be closer to you on a peaceful morning.

Word Count: 500

Warnings: Implied DUBCON, implied smut, implied anal, possessive behavior, soulmates, telepathic link, soft!dark Ari Levinson (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: For @thebasementspouses ! The Basement Spouses Writing Challenge #6! Character: Ari Levinson. Length: 250-500 words. Prompt: "I'm gonna be your first and last." ❤️ Set in my soulmate!Ari world with Wear Me Down and Down Again. Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The light from the gentle dawn beckoned you to wake up, your eyes squinting against the shades of yellow and orange that filled the room. The hues were like a flower in bloom, emphasizing that each day was a new beginning. You took a deep breath as you shed the sleep from your mind and let the morning joy wash over you. 

For a moment, you were at peace. 

But peace cannot be kept by force.

A shiver rolled down your spine when Ari’s lips brushed your shoulder, his body eclipsing yours and reminding you that you weren't alone as his beard tickled your skin. Waking up beside him was like moving from one dream to another since he made sure to occupy your mind. As your brain fog gave way to clarity, it was impossible to ignore the way he pressed himself against your ass. 

Hard, throbbing, and ready for you. 

“Morning,” he said in a relaxed tone, his hand on your waist dipping low.

If a touch could burn, he would've scorched you from head to toe and allowed you to heal before he did it all over again. 

“Morning,” you whispered, placing your hand over his to stop him before he reached between your legs. “I just woke up.”

His chest was no longer against your back as he pulled his hand away and you didn't want to admit that you missed the warmth of him. As if he sensed your thoughts, which he likely did, he brought his hand to your backside instead. “Ari,” you whispered, your eyes snapping open when a thick finger slid possessively between your cheeks.

He chuckled in your mind, a low and throaty noise as you shut your eyes. “You know, there are many benefits to starting off the day with sex,” he spoke, waves crashing in your mind like a stormy sea as his voice intimately brushed the deepest parts of you. “It can boost your immune system. Combat stress before you start your day.”

No.

“It can bring us closer together, which is what we both need,” he continued as if you didn't speak his name. As if you didn't have a say in the matter. “And, truthfully, I've been dying to feel this hole around my cock.”

You didn't dare look over your shoulder, your heart hammering in your chest as you tried to think of something else. Anything else. “I haven't…” you trailed off with a defeated sigh because you didn't have to finish your statement. 

He already knew that no one else had ever been in your ass. It surprised you that he took that long to act on it. At least he wouldn't hurt you when he took you. 

He was a kind soulmate in that regard. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered as he pressed another kiss to your shoulder. It did nothing to relieve the tension in your muscles. “I’m gonna be your first and last.”

And with that, your peace became Ari’s victory.

Oh, Ari. I'm yours. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Misc. Chris Evans Characters ⚓ Ko-Fi

[youngroyals-events]

Simon's Month 2024 Prompts List

Our second event is here and this time, we are celebrating Simon on his birthday month, July! We hope you are as excited as us for this!

The goal of this event is to encourage people to create with Simon, our birthday boy, as the main focus.

To participate, it’s pretty simple. There is a prompt for each day of the month of July. Create something out of that prompt and post it on the corresponding day. Prompts can be merged together and you can post days later, we only ask to not post ahead of schedule. We will reblog your posts during the whole duration of the event, so from July 1st to July 31st.

We accept all sorts of things! Fanfictions, fanart, drabbles, gif sets, edits, headcanons, moodboards, analysis, anything! You can also include a wip, new or old, if it fits!

You can also post to the AO3 collection.

Guidelines:

Use the tag #simonmonth2024 when posting and tag us in the post (@youngroyals-events);

Indicate which prompt you are using;

Indicate any warnings if there are any;

Adult content is accepted but should be properly tagged (we will use #nsfw when reblogging);

Post on the day of the prompt or after, not before;

Other characters can be included, but Simon should be the main focus.

If there are any questions regarding the guidelines or on how to participate, feel free to send us an ask!

And here’s the prompts' list!

Pencil case

Food

Dodgeball

Beach

Towel

Sara

Purple

Identity/Discrimination

Anime

Travel

Revolution

Music

Hoodie

Senses

Secrets

Venezuela

Friendship

Pride

Fish

Nightmare

Red light

Labour Day

Parents

Winter

Soulmates

Dancing

Physical touch

Birthday

Stars

Home

Photos

We hope you’ll enjoy this event!

[wooahaes]

a spark of realization

pairing: non-idol!hoshi x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 13/13

word count: 5.0k~

warnings: some food mentions. some angst. coworkers au. platonic love between soonyoung and his friends <3 some alcohol mentions (all regarding soonyoung drinking, no real mentions of reader actually drinking). mentions of static shocks throughout.

daisy’s notes: soonyoung looks at all of his friends and goes 'i love u all so much' and im like god same me when i look at my friends

summary: Unlike Jihoon and every other friend that swore they didn’t have one, Soonyoung knows he doesn’t have a soulmate. He’s tried plenty of the subtle soulmate things. He doesn’t feel anyone’s pain or emotions, he doesn’t taste anything weird, and he’s dyed his hair enough times to know that he most likely doesn’t have someone out there. Yet the static that makes his hair stand on end sometimes just causes him to think that maybe there’s something else to expect…

Kwon Soonyoung was positive about one thing in his life: he did not have a soulmate. Never showed any signs when he was ten onward, and he never would. Sure, it hurt to hear when he was ten—he was ten and stuck into this category of “without” regardless of how he felt about having a soulmate, that was sure to make anyone upset—but he’d figured things out for himself while growing up. Some people hated their soulmates. Other people loved them, sure, like… every single one of his friends now, but that was beside the point. Soonyoung had decided several things for himself. 

One: he didn’t need a soulmate to be happy and fulfilled. Plenty of people didn’t end up with their soulmates. Plenty of people didn’t have a romantic relationship with their soulmates, but stayed in touch. Some people didn’t even want their soulmates at all, either. Therefore: no one needed a soulmate to be a complete person. He was just fine on his own. (This was something his parents taught him from an early age.)

Two: Soonyoung did have soulmates, actually. Twelve of them. His twelve closest friends were his soulmates, platonically, and they’d all chosen each other in life. But if he had to pick one, then it was easily Jihoon. The two had known each other the longest now, and Soonyoung had told him one night that if neither of them had soulmates, then they were platonic soulmates. And even after Jihoon found his soulmate, Soonyoung still believed in it. The two of them just fit together in a way that was right.

“Really?” Jihoon had been half-asleep on the couch that night, tired from both work work and music work. He and Joshua had to re-record the song they’d been working on… again. Soonyoung could admire how dedicated Jihoon was to having a perfect product, though. “That’s sappy.”

Soonyoung had giggled, admittedly very much not sober. “No, no, I mean it! We’re soulmates, I think.” Another burst of giggles as he reached toward Jihoon’s hand. “I know you have one now, but…” 

Jihoon gently patted his cheek. “No, you’re right. We’re soulmates, too.” He shut his eyes, about to nod off again. “Soonyoung…” He yawned, turning onto his side. His dark eyes found Soonyoung’s a moment later, only barely open. “I don’t want to give you false hope, but… Have you ever looked into it?”

Soonyoung leaned against him. Of course he had. Hadn’t most people who did, deep down, want a soulmate? Well, maybe except Vernon. Vernon did his own thing most of the time. “I don’t wanna.”

“You don’t have to,” Jihoon said, understanding as always. “But…”

“Hm?”

“It’s hard to live in a world where I would have one and you wouldn’t.” Jihoon’s voice was heavy with sleep, and his eyelids fluttered shut again a moment later. “That’s all.”

“Why not?” Soonyoung stifled a yawn. “You’re cool. You make music. Plenty of people would love that. You can write your soulmate love songs now.” 

It earned a quiet chuckle from Jihoon. “Just…” He trailed off. “I was okay with not having one because love is… different. Like what Wonwoo says about it. It’s a choice and something you make. But you…” 

Soonyoung blinked curiously at him. He…? 

“Anyone would love you,” he mumbled, clearly beginning to doze off now. “I just don’t understand how it could be me and not you.”

Soonyoung had decided to love Jihoon extra from that point on. Jihoon’s soulmate did the same, and everyone else truly adored Jihoon, but Soonyoung understood. Jihoon never saw himself as the leading man in any situation. He wasn’t sure if that extended to believing he wasn’t anyone’s first choice (he was always Soonyoung’s, if that meant anything), but Soonyoung didn’t need to know. He just knew that he would always hype up Jihoon as much as he could. Everyone did, to be fair, but Soonyoung was happy to be a louder voice among the crowd. He would always be there to stream his songs when they were released and share them on every account he had, even if that sometimes required Seungcheol or Wonwoo helping him not break the link in the process.

But he’d never let go of that thought. How could it be me and not you? As if Jihoon deserved a soulmate less than Soonyoung did. Soonyoung had his moments of yearning, the same way that Seokmin often did, but he wouldn’t trade places with any of his friends. Their soulmates meant something to them. Soonyoung had seen the way Seungkwan doted on his soulmate day in and day out, and he’d quietly apologized to him once for the times he’d made inappropriate jokes. 

“What, those?” Seungkwan hadn’t seemed bothered in the slightest. “You were trying to make light of things so I wouldn’t worry.” He crossed his arms. “They hurt in those moments, but I can’t blame you for trying.”

How did Soonyoung get so lucky? Was this what the universe granted him in exchange for lacking a soulmate…? He wasn’t sure, but he wouldn’t trade any of his friends for a soulmate. He’d happily make do with the twelve he’d forged any day.

Okay, so maybe Soonyoung was getting in his head a little. Seokmin had just spent a  little over two weeks in a time loop because, surprise, he also had a soulmate. Which sent Soonyoung down a small spiral. According to some study out there that still needed more information to be more valid or whatever, a good portion of people who were told they didn’t have soulmates when they were ten were people who didn’t have obvious signs. Time loops, hair colors matching, lost items, sparks flying, colored footprints leading to the other person… All things that people simply wouldn’t have seen at age ten. 

So maybe Soonyoung started to dye his hair after Jihoon found his soulmate. It wasn’t abnormal, Soonyoung did like to play with his hair. It’d been a while since he’d gone bleach blonde. And maybe his soulmate didn’t care and that was why he stayed bleach blonde until his roots started to show. And maybe his soulmate didn’t care that their hair was cherry red not long after that…

And, maybe, Soonyoung was acutely aware of the date after Seokmin broke his loop. Each day followed one another as they always did, but Soonyoung swore a Tuesday felt just like a Monday once. 

And maybe, just maybe, Soonyoung lost a bracelet with his name on it. Joshua made him another one, no question, but he hadn’t found anything that didn’t belong to him (or Jihoon) in his living space. Everything was in its proper spot, just as it was supposed to be. Nothing new. 

No footprints stood out to him, and he hadn’t bumped into anyone lately that made him feel those mystical sparks that Jun once told him about. 

Kwon Soonyoung did not need a soulmate to be happy… So why did he want one so badly?

“I don’t need one,” was what he blubbered to Seungcheol one night, a week after Seokmin broke his time loop. “I don’t. I shouldn’t act like I need one to be happy because I am happy. I’ve been happy before, so—”

“It’s okay.” Seungcheol had held him as he cried. “Soonyoung, it’s normal for people to want them just as much as it’s normal for people to not. If you want a soulmate, it’s okay.” 

How was he supposed to say that now it was starting to hurt? That all twelve of the soulmates he chose in life had their own soulmates, even the ones who were convinced they didn’t? 

“Work is still bad,” Soonyoung said suddenly, still crying into Seungcheol’s shoulder. The words just seemed to dribble from his mouth now, no true thoughts behind them. “Two of the new hires took off because they found out they were soulmates and—and they wanted to get busy living life while they could. And now all of us are staying every night because we have to make up their work, and—”

He just kept babbling, sobbing as everything seemed to spill out of him. Seungcheol just held him, rubbing circles into his back to soothe him. Soon enough, all the words had dried up, and Soonyoung was just left, breathing quietly as he came back down. His head felt foggier than before. Lighter, though. 

“You’ll be okay,” Seungcheol promised him when Soonyoung finally moved away to wipe his face. “I’ll buy you dinner when you work next, okay?”

“I feel guilty,” Soonyoung said a moment later. With less thoughts to weigh him down, his feelings seemed to become more obvious. 

Seungcheol had chuckled. “You shouldn’t. I’m offering—”

“Not that.” Soonyoung let out a long sigh, tugging his sleeves down over his hands for a moment. When did he start feeling so cold? “I… I love all of you. You’re all some of my best friends. I meant it when I said I consider you all soulmates. I feel like I should be happy that we all met in this life, but…”

“We can’t fill that void,” Seungcheol said. He turned to face Soonyoung fully, arm draped over the back of the couch. “Soonyoung. I love you, but you aren’t my soulmate. There’s things I want to do with them now that I know them that I wouldn’t want to do with anyone else. I can’t call it love because I haven’t known them long enough, but… You do understand, right?”

Of course he understood. Soonyoung had dated before, after all. “I know, but—”

“None of us want you to feel left out,” he said. “If you want to date, then you should try dating again when things have calmed down.” He paused, “Or now, but I think the stress from work is getting to you too much.” Again, Seungcheol paused, mulling over his thoughts as though he needed to get them right the first time he spoke them aloud. “Soonyoung. Do you remember what you told all of us when you said we were your soulmates?”

Soonyoung had been… a little drunk that night. Most of them were. But Soonyoung had seen the videos that were taken by his friends of his drunken rambling, and he’d said a lot. “Which part?”

“The universe picked soulmates for a lot of us,” Seungcheol said, “but we still have to choose them. And you decided you would choose us.”

It was the easiest decision Soonyoung had ever made, and one that admittedly made him and a few others cry. He’d been right, though, hadn’t he? A soulmate was a person that the universe felt was perfect for you, but plenty of soulmates didn’t last. It was almost always the people who believed that just being soulmates was enough to have a lasting relationship. Soonyoung had seen people who finally reached their breaking point and ended things, always crying later because that was their soulmate. Almost always, their stories were similar to the others: they weren’t trying. It was supposed to come naturally to them. But a soulmate wasn’t a guarantee for love. All relationships, platonic or romantic or familial, needed work put into them. That was why Soonyoung knew that a soulmate represented a choice. One that the universe made for a person, but a choice that a person had to keep choosing if they wanted to make things work. That was how love worked, after all. Soonyoung had been in love before, and he had chosen that person until they couldn’t choose each other anymore. 

And he knew that it went the same for those with soulmates. Seungkwan had been with his soulmate for over a year now, and plenty of people could count the petty disagreements the two had had. They always came back together after they cooled off, talking things out like adults (sometimes with a little intervention from Chan or Vernon, but those moments were rare). Minghao and his soulmate had an actual argument not too long ago, but they’d bounced back and been stronger than before for it. Even Jeonghan, who had loved his soulmate almost his entire life, had an unfortunate spat that lasted a few days before he reached out to them and asked to reconcile. Love was a choice as much as it was a feeling. It was what brought them all back together again. A soulmate wasn’t the end-all be-all of love, but Soonyoung had realized why they all fit so well together. They all shared some sort of experience in some way, whether it be a string to connect them or losing objects. It was something to bond over, to open up the doors to choosing one another once that decision was clear. 

“Someone is going to choose you some day,” Seungcheol said, completely serious. “And they’ll be lucky if you choose them, too.” 

Soonyoung wiped at his eyes with his sleeve again, the fabric scratchy against his skin. Minghao would be chastising him now for it, pulling tissues out of his pocket or his bag depending on where he’d decided to keep them that day. That, too, was Minghao choosing to love his friend. “I love you,” he said softly. Thank you for choosing to be in my life. He wasn’t sure where he’d be without him.

Seungcheol chuckled, warm as ever. “I love you, too,” he said back, always as though it were the easiest thing in the world. Maybe, for Seungcheol, it was. 

A week later, work was a little kinder to him. His coworkers gossiped about some new hires coming into the company, and Soonyoung, truly, couldn’t care less. As long as they did their jobs and didn’t run off immediately to see the world or whatever those two were doing, he was happy. He’d given a polite nod to the new hires as they were introduced, and ignored the way the hairs on the back of his hand were standing on end. He’d charged himself with too much static upon coming in, dragging his feet as he tried to subtly push his sock back up after it had rolled down. He’d managed to discharge the static eventually, although the slight zap from the metal he touched had made him hiss in pain. It felt like a little too much, but what did he know? He had other things to worry about, like the backlog of work that still stood out to him. It’d take a few days for things to calm down for good. And, sure, the polite thing to do would be to get drinks with his coworkers… But no one was inviting anyone anywhere. Not when there was too much work during the day and everyone was exhausted by the time they all clocked out. 

“So? What do you think?” One of his coworkers had whispered to another after the new hires (a pair of people around Soonyoung’s age) had left ahead of them, having packed up quickly to catch their buses home.

Soonyoung packed up a little slower. Maybe it was wrong to listen in, but…

“Hm…” The woman hummed to herself for a moment, shifting her weight from leg to leg. “I’m not sure yet. Sungyoon seems to work hard, but the other person…” She frowned, crossing her arms as she grew still. “They’re very quiet. Like…” 

Soonyoung knew that she had just glanced at him. He’d always been the quiet one at work, the polite one who worked hard. That’s what you were like, from what he understood, too. You came in, you put yourself to work, and then politely excused yourself when you needed to run to get to your bus. Sungyoon had gone with you, not keeping it secret from anyone that the two of you were at least friends. Speaking of…

“Do you think they’re dating?” She whispered to the other. 

Soonyoung hoped you weren’t. You were… actually kinda cute? Plus he admired your work ethic a lot, even on your first day. Maybe when things calmed down, he could ask you out to coffee or something. 

“I didn’t see any marks,” the other man said, not bothering to lower his voice any further. “They could be soulmates. They clearly have a history…”

Soonyoung packed his bag and took off. He’d had enough of this. The journey home was uneventful, but Jihoon had picked up on how disgruntled Soonyoung was from the moment he walked in the door. Halfway through his vent session, Jihoon had looked at him.

“Why are you jealous? You just met them.” 

Jealous? Soonyoung was not jealous of anyone. He choked on his own words, unsure of what he could say that was actually convincing. If he denied it, then Jihoon would only believe that he was bullshitting him to try and save face. Yes, you were cute in Soonyoung’s eyes, but he’d only just met you! He’d be a weirdo if he was jealous this quickly! And you wouldn’t want anything to do with him if he was weird. 

“I’m not jealous,” Soonyoung said once he was sure he could say it casually. “I just find it weird that my coworkers care so much. They’re doing a good job.” He paused for a second, “both of them are! Sungyoon is very nice.”

Jihoon was not convinced. Nothing could convince him now, then. “Mhm.” He shrugged. “Nothing wrong with being a little jealous if they’re clearly close. Just don’t let it bother you.”

“I’m not!” Soonyoung felt his face heating up. He wasn’t. He wasn’t bothered in the slightest. It was more-so his coworkers being weird about it. It was weird to speculate, wasn’t it? If you had a soulmate, then good for you. If you didn’t, then… 

Then maybe Soonyoung had a shot.

“A soulmate?” You had looked up, the same man who’d speculated about you and Sungyoon being soulmates having shoved his nose into your business. You blinked, unsure of where this topic had even come from. “No, I don’t have one. I don’t think I do, at least. Is this a part of company business? I told H.R. after I was hired that I don’t have any signs that would prevent me from working, but I didn’t know everyone needed to know this.”

Soonyoung smiled to himself. Yeah, you tell him. It was your business anyway. 

“But what about you and Sungyoon—”

“College friends.” You smiled politely. “We live close to one another, too. I’m not seeing anyone now. Is that all?”

Sungyoon sat at his desk, watching you with this amused twinkle in his eyes. Sungyoon had the same kind of admiration for you that Soonyoung had for his friends, he was positive. He watched the way his coworker slinked off after a moment, apologizing for prying into your personal life as you returned to work. Soonyoung reached down to pull something from a desk drawer, only to feel a familiar zap the moment he did. He’d winced in pain, but it did nothing to dampen his mood. When Soonyoung relayed later the information to his friends at dinner that night, Wonwoo had watched him the entire time, all too aware of how thrilled Soonyoung seemed to be about the whole ordeal.

“Why do you seem so happy?”

Was he happy? He was, kind of. Without being disrespectful, you’d rebuffed the guy and kept most of your privacy in doing so. There were no long drawn out college stories about some adventure you and Sungyoon had while in college, no emotional moments of spilling about how you resented the fact you didn’t have a soulmate. Hell, Soonyoung had no idea how you felt about it. Were you indifferent like him? Did you have a similar situation to him, too, where you had chosen your own soulmates out of your friends?

“They were being disrespected,” Soonyoung had settled on saying. “I’m glad they handled the situation well—”

“He likes them and wants to ask them out,” Jihoon said after taking a sip of his water. “So he’s glad they’re single.”

Soonyoung shoved Jihoon slightly. “That’s not it at all!”

Jun chuckled from his seat, watching the exchange. “There’s nothing wrong with liking them, you know.” 

“There isn’t, but I don’t like them like that. I barely know them. We’ve barely even talked.” Soonyoung rolled his eyes. “How can I like someone I don’t know yet?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “I liked my soulmate before I really knew them. They seemed interesting.” 

“That’s different!” 

“Is it?” Jun shrugged. “I haven’t known my soulmate for long, but I still liked them before we started talking. They seemed nice. You can have a good opinion of someone without knowing them intimately—”

“That’s not the point,” Soonyoung said. “You’re all trying to turn this into something it’s not. I just… I dunno. When I see them, I want to know them more. It’s like they just keep pulling my attention toward them.” He paused, chopsticks in hand as he looked up. “They keep looking at me, actually. It’s kinda funny. I think they might be into me, actually.”

Suddenly, all three of his friends exchanged a look. Soonyoung furrowed his brows. “What?”

And none of them would tell him their thoughts. When he pushed further later as they were leaving the restaurant, Jihoon just waved him off. 

“You’ll figure it out.” 

“Shit!”

Soonyoung looked up at the sound of your voice, soft enough that it didn’t catch everyone’s attention. Sungyoon withheld a chuckle as you glared at him a moment later, and Soonyoung couldn’t help but keep his eyes on the pair of you. You’d wrung out your hand, reaching for your desk drawer as you started to search through it for a highlighter. Soonyoung liked the fact that you always highlighted things in pretty colors—bright green so far, but he overheard you telling another coworker, Seungmin, that you liked to switch out colors every so often. It kept things fresh, and Soonyoung found that cute. Almost as cute as the novelty erasers that you kept on your desk to decorate it, never using them since you always used pens (save for the pencil you kept exclusively for the sticky notes you attached to your computer monitor). 

“It’s not funny,” you had hissed back at him. “This place has a bad static problem… Is the air dry to you? I think dry air makes static build-up likelier.”

“It’s just you.” Sungyoon watched you curiously, glancing over to see that Soonyoung had started watching, too. 

Soonyoung watched the way he slowly reached for a pad of sticky notes, jotting something out. Then he reached forward, attaching it to the top of your monitor. You swatted his hand away, eyes flickering over to see Soonyoung just as he turned his attention back to his own work. Yet the moment he was sure you were looking away, Soonyoung glanced over to see you pulling the sticky note off the monitor. How had he avoided you this long…? Something about getting too close to you made his chest all fluttery. Had he really started crushing on you so easily? Then again, you kinda did make it easy. You were cute in your own ways, and it made it hard to focus most days. Now all he could think about was what Sungyoon had written to you. 

He’d stretched himself over Vernon’s couch that night, playing with a little feather toy that his soulmate’s cat (Nutmeg, apparently) seemed to love. She pounced at it again, and Soonyoung had, yet again, been rambling about his work adventures. 

Vernon plucked another fry from Soonyoung’s leftovers. “Dude. Kinda sounds like there’s something there.” 

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung said. “Maybe I’m being silly. I should ask them out sometime, but they’re still new. It feels weird to do it so soon.” He paused, watching as Vernon slowly began to reach for another fry. “If you’re hungry, then eat. I’m fine.” 

With permission, Vernon immediately pulled over the rest of the leftover fries. “I mean it, dude. Why wait? You like them, they seem to like you, just go for it.” 

… Maybe he would.

But probably not today. Soonyoung had woken up late which, thankfully, wasn’t too bad considering he didn’t live too far from work. Jihoon had been in the kitchen, sliding over a plate of toast when Soonyoung booked it from the room.

“You have that meeting—”

“I know!” Soonyoung grabbed two slices. He’d shove them into his mouth on the run over. “I know—I set an alarm!”

Jihoon looked up, already annoyed, “I know. It woke me up.” 

He’d make it up to him later. He yelled back a casual “love you!” to Jihoon, who only groaned in response, and booked it to the stairs. No elevator today: the complex’s elevator sucked most days, and Soonyoung always reserved it for when he was coming home rather than heading to work. He’d pulled on the wrong pair of shoes considering he had a meeting today. He needed to look nice, and he did, mostly. These were the ones that were a little too broken in, having lost traction against the office floors, and they’d lost their shine a bit. Maybe no one would notice? Hopefully no one would notice. He didn’t need anyone making a comment… or you to think less of him. Were you the kind of person who cared about that kind of thing? He hoped not. As long as you were presentable, Soonyoung wouldn’t think any differently of you. 

He burst through the front doors of the building, yelling out to where you and Sungyoon had just boarded the elevators. He saw the way the two of you looked surprised, eyes wide and brows raised as Soonyoung booked it across the lobby while no one else seemed to think much of it. It was far from the first time this had happened, to be fair: it happened back when he was new, and it kept happening every so often since. Soonyoung, unfortunately for everyone else, was the kind of person who could be loud when he needed to be. Which was good for him, because Sungyoon had taken pity on him and held the elevator doors for him. Soonyoung’s hair was standing on end now. Fuck, when did the building have such a bad problem with dry air? 

Shit, fuck, the floors were against him today. In the split few seconds he had, he’d tried to yell for you to move aside so he could crash against the elevator walls, yet his brain seemed to have turned to pudding. He felt this subtle pull forward, which he once thought was gravity as he nearly tripped over the elevator threshold and into you.

Only for sparks to fly. Literally fly. Sungyoon had crumpled to the floor in pain, howling about ‘what the fuck was that?!’ while Soonyoung only felt this warmth wash over him. You’d been shoved against the elevator wall and were clutching the back of your head (shit, fuck, he’d check on you once his brain caught up to him). Wait.

Wait. Sparks flew. 

You…?

“Dude, what the fuck?” You’d pushed him away, hand still clutching the back of your head. 

Immediately, his brain had finally started fully functioning again. “Shit!” He stepped forward, trying to get a closer look at the back of your skull. No bleeding or visible bruising, but what did he know? “Are you okay? Did you get hurt? I’m sorry, I tried to stop, but—”

“What the fuck was that?!” Sungyoon was still on the elevator floor. The doors slid shut after a moment. 

Quietly, Soonyoung hit the button for the correct floor, just to get things moving. “I… I, uh…”

You stared at him, slowly connecting the dots. “Oh.”

“Did… Did it hurt you?” Soonyoung shyly asked, only to realize he’d been vague. “The sparks.”

You shook your head. “No. But—” You looked at Sungyoon. “Sungyoon, are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” he pulled himself back up. “Of course he’s your soulmate. No wonder you two wouldn’t stop staring at each other…”

Soonyoung had felt a pull toward you, but… He always thought that was infatuation fueling that feeling. There were so many things he’d already wanted to ask you, and yet it felt… weird to say them with Sungyoon there. Were you like him? Had you given up on soulmates even though you wanted one? Or did you not care that Soonyoung was your soulmate? Would you have still liked him if he wasn’t…? He felt like he would have liked you either way, but he would never know for sure now. Then again, maybe he could be okay with not having that answer. If he got to know you better, then he could be happy. Neither of you spoke for the ride up, and he could see Sungyoon debating stopping this elevator ride early to give the two of you space.

Thankfully, he didn’t. But he did book it off the elevator once the doors opened, leaving the two of you two step off together.

“So…” You were a little quieter than normal, never quite looking at Soonyoung for too long. “We’re soulmates.”

He nodded. “Is that okay?”

That earned your attention faster than anything else. “Of course that’s okay. Why wouldn’t that be okay?” 

“I just thought that…” You didn’t seem happy. Then again, he barely knew you.

You shook your head. “Just because I’m used to not having a soulmate doesn’t mean I’m not happy it’s you. I already thought you were cute, so…”

Soonyoung shyly smiled at you, hand brushing against your own. It was enough to get you to stop and face him. “I know we have a meeting soon, but… There’s a little place across the street we could go for lunch. It’ll be my treat, if you want—”

“I’d love to,” you smiled. “I’ll look forward to it, soulmate.”

Soonyoung watched you walk ahead of him, smiling to yourself. Suddenly, he felt a new sense of confidence wash over him as he watched you go. He’d only known you for so long,  but something told him that choosing you was going to be the easiest decision he’d ever made.

(And when he told Jihoon that night, he’d called Jun and Wonwoo immediately to send him the money he’d just won for betting that Soonyoung would figure it out sooner rather than later.)

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

[sanjoongie]

𝑰 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖

🏵First Flower chosen for The Language of Flowers event held by @cultofdionysusnet

🏵Prompt Chosen: Zinnia {loyalty}

🏵Pairing: Choi Yeonjun x Reader (f)

🏵Genre: smut, angst

🏵Trope: soulmate, immortal love

🏵Au: Vampire au, sleeping beauty inspired

🏵Rating: 18+, MDNI

🏵Warnings: supernatural strength and speed as per a vampire's powers, mentions of blood, death, war, {Kinks} penetrative sex with no barrier, wet grinding?, over stim, praise kink, Switch! reader, switch! yeonjun

🏵Word Count: 3,163

🏵Beta's: @downtoamagicalland & @mejuii

🏵Summary: when you, a vampire master, learned of your lover Yeonjun's death, you fell into a deep sleep rather than mourn the loss. Yeonjun, as it turned out, wasn't dead but was devoted to waiting until you woke up. This is your story~

🏵banner by @cafekitsune

~~~Present time~~~

Yeonjun laid against the glass coffin where you rested, sighing hard enough to fog up the glass for a moment. He traced a heart through the condensation and then laughed at his own corniness. To make matters worse, his situation with you was a bit of a Romeo and Juliet vibe and it almost made him roll his eyes at how horribly cliched it truly was. 

During an uprising of the peasant-human fiefdoms, Yeonjun as your right hand and lover had gone to quell a major rebellion. News had travelled back that Yeonjun had been mortally wounded and ashes had been sent to you in a perfume bottle. When your fiefdoms had been settled and the humans soothed to the point of peace again, you went into a deep slumber, mourning the loss of your love. 

In actuality, Yeonjun had been wounded but simply restrained and unable to return to you. By the time he had arrived at the castle, it had been too late. So he waited loyally by your coffin for you to wake up.

Some vampires slumber for a few hundred years. Living as an immortal can be draining, and so, a deep slumber is necessary to maintain your sanity. But you had gone to sleep with a broken heart. So after centuries had passed, and your anniversary of your slumber bordered on half a millennia, Yeonjun wondered if you were ever going to wake up.

And still, he remained by your side. How could he ever abandon you, after you thought he had died? He visited you every sunset, as soon as he woke up from his daytime slumber, visiting your coffin with flowers and a bright smile. He would tell you of what happened within the kiss recently, keeping you up to date in case you absorbed his words. He never once left the castle or took on another lover. His heart was yours, and as an immortal, that meant until both of your undead hearts were ripped from your chests.

“My love,” Yeonjun sighed for the umpteenth time, gazing upon your slumbering visage. 

Yeonjun's heart ached that you were so close and yet so far away. Did you dream of him in your deep sleep? Is that why you never awoke? Because you could be with him in your dreams if not in your waking hours? 

~~~In the Past~~~

You dreamt of a simpler time with Yeonjun. You had just become a master vampire and Yeonjun, looking to move up in a court, wooed you to his best abilities. You entertained his advances, if only to amuse yourself.

“And where do you see yourself in a century or two?” you wondered, lazily drawing a sharp-nailed hand along his side as the two of you lay in bed.

Yeonjun pushed his lips to the side in thought, his hand buried in his bed head hair. “Truthfully? I crave to be written in our books of history. I want my name to be penned in ink.”

You knew he was a social climber but you didn't know he wanted to make a name for himself in that regard. “Truly?”

Yeonjun nodded. “Why else be immortal if not to be immortalized in history as well?”

You moved to lie on your stomach to focus on the conversation at hand. “How much of our histories have you read?”

Yeonjun smiled, somewhat embarrassed. “A lot. Most of them. There’s a few periods I haven’t been able to get my hands on. The Rose Wars seem to be kept by only the oldest of us.” You raised an eyebrow at him and he had the decency to duck his head and laugh. “Yes, that includes you.”

“There’s a reason the Rose Wars aren’t readily available.” You sighed, drawing a sheet up with you as you made to sit on the side of the bed. 

Yeonjun wrapped his arms around you from behind and absentmindedly bit you on your shoulder. He didn’t break skin but it was almost a worried movement, like a puppy that needed to teeth. “Is that a no?”

You patted his hand in reassurance. “That’s a no for now, my pet,” you informed him.

“Is there something else I could tempt you into saying yes to?” Yeonjun’s voice lilted, teasing and tempting wrapped into one sentence. 

“There’s a few things you could tempt me into saying yes to, Yeonjun,” you mused.

“Ride me? Ride me hard?” Yeonjun practically whispered into your skin. 

You found that you couldn't say no, like you figured. 

Yeonjun had a perfect body to gaze upon while you rode him. Since it was his request to ride him hard, you glided your pussy lips along his length and made him squirt on his stomach for the first round. Insatiable for the faces and noises he made when he came, you were quick to push his cock inside of you, covered in his own cum, enjoying the stretch that came with it. You were bouncing on him in no time, making Yeonjun cry out. 

“So much!” He moaned, blunt nails digging into your thighs and hips, leaving crescent moons in their wake. 

“You can take it, can’t you, my pet?” You purred, pussy pumping his cock for pleasure. 

Yeonjun nodded, tears threatening to spill down his face. Once he worked through the over stim, his hips began to buck up into your ass, seeking pleasure that your cunt was giving. Your body undulated above him in waves, taking it slow. You moved a hand behind you to brace your weight, watching as Yeonjun’s cock dived into your swollen cunt again and again. 

“Such a pretty cock for such a pretty man,” You teased. 

Yeonjun’s fangs delicately dug into his lips. You could see he was attempting to hold back his own pleasure to wait for your own but he was simply too easy to pet and wind up. He watched with wide eyes as you sucked on your middle finger and brought it to your clit. He couldn't handle the way your pussy clenched with the added pleasure and he came inside of you, his second orgasm of the night. 

You tsked loudly, watching the blood he had drunk from the vessel you two had shared climb up his neck and cheeks in a heated blush. “You have some training to do, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun panted, a whine threatening to escape the back of his throat. His cock was still hard inside of you but you were overstimulating him again. You leaned forward to chuck his chin. “Take it, my pet. You won’t have to endure this if you could only hold your own pleasure back.”

Yeonjun’s fists curled into the sheets below him, that previous whine finally growing big enough to pour from his pretty pink lips. His body attempted to shrink away from the pleasure/pain you were giving him but there was no avoiding it when his cock was so deep inside of you. 

“How…can I…hnnnnn…compete against…your experience?” Yeonjun managed to push out. 

You chuckled darkly. “You’re the one that looked to seduce an elder, youngling.”

Yeonjun laughed, and you wondered if you’d push this one past his line of sanity. “If I had known what I was getting into…”

You moved to press your chest against his, lips a mere whisper from touching his. “Would you have stopped yourself?” You wondered.

“No, I would have prepared,” Yeonjun corrected you.

You slanted your lips over his, giving him a messy kiss, careful of his fangs. Yours were carefully tucked away, a trick one learned later in your vampire life. “I prefer to break my toys,” You told him.

Yeonjun locked his arms behind your back, with the new strength a youngling vampire possessed. He was stronger than you, in this moment, and there was nothing you could do to stop him--physically at least. You could have sucked him of all his lifeblood or hypnotized him to slit his own wrists if need be, but you wanted to see what Yeonjun would do. With his new speed, you found yourself on your hands and knees, your face pushed into the sheets where only moments Yeonjun’s back was on. This new angle hit deep inside of you, and you moaned at the sensations it brought as well.

“If--If--” The slapping of Yeonjun’s pelvis to your ass was punctuated by Yeonjun’s hisses at the feeling of his cock inside of you. “If I can hold back this time--If I can make you come--You’ll give me the book I need.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” You laughed, muffling another groan as Yeonjun’s cock was hitting the deep part of you. 

“A chapter,” Yeonjun bargained. 

You laughed again but Yeonjun wasn’t giving up. He grabbed your wrists and crossed them behind your back. Your ass was truly bouncing off his pelvis now. You had to give him this; he was fucking you good. Good enough to keep him around, maybe.

“You think one lousy withheld orgasm is enough to learn restricted texts?” You barked in disbelief.

Yeonjun grasped both your elbows, pulling your lower body upwards, giving all the leverage and control he needed to truly fuck you. You were at a loss of words now. All you could do was moan in pleasure but Yeonjun wasn’t as pussy drunk as he had been before. Had it been an act for you to lower your guard? 

“I’ll fuck you for a hundred years, receive a word for each day, if that meant I could learn.”

The words shock you to your core, and almost sober you. “Who are you?”

“You know my name.” Yeonjun’s smirk could be heard through his voice. “Scream it loudly so the others can hear it.”

~~~Present time~~~

“Are you going to see her again?” Taehyun asked with wide eyes. 

Beomgyu twitched his phone left and right as he played a game on it. “Of course he is. He’s stupid. That hasn’t changed.”

“Beomgyu!” Soobin scolded the younger vampire.

Beomgyu rolled his eyes. “What? You think so too.”

Soobin rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeonjun, look--”

Yeonjun waved his hand at Soobin, half his face pulled into a sneer. “Don’t bother, Soobin.”

“Do you even remember what her voice sounds like?” Kai asked the hard questions.

“We’re together when we sleep, of course I do,” Yeonjun shouted over his shoulder. 

The castle was so old, he had to watch his step. Torches had changed to flickering lights to LED mood lights. The world had changed but Yeonjun’s resolve hadn't. He was going to be there when you woke up. When, being the key word. 

Life was different now. Instead of fiefdoms, vampires owned well-to-do companies. Beomgyu owned half of Silicon Valley. Blood taking was exchanged through Snapchat and Whatsapp. The vampires didn’t fight much over territory anymore but you might see a few get into it at a club, if they had a long-standing feud. The only thing that hadn't changed was Yeonjun’s unwavering loyalty to you. 

~~~In the Past~~~

A hundred years soon passed. Yeonjun was barely through a quarter of the history he had sought after but it almost wasn’t as important as it had been when he first had sought to make himself a part of your life. Now, he was your right hand, the one who ensured your choices and rulings were followed. He easily killed in your name. It wasn’t that he utterly loved you, which was the case, but more so your mind, your justice, was law and word for him. He would follow you into the bowels of hell and back, if only to make sure your feet never felt a spark of heat from the underworld.

“Yeonjun?” 

Your lover was always a step or two behind you no matter where you went. Tonight you were on the rooftops of your castle, viewing the beautiful night sky. The moon was mostly covered with a shadow and that saddened you. You had wished to see her in all of her glory. At least you had the stars.

“My love?” Yeonjun moved to your side, palm sliding along yours until his hand clasped yours.

“There’s a war coming. The air smells of unrest. The humans are a superstitious lot but the world’s been bad to them these few decades. They’ll look to revolt. They usually always do when they think there’s someone to blame.”

Yeonjun slid to lean on one knee, bringing your hand to his lips as he kissed it. “I will eradicate them.”

Your eyes slid to Yeonjun. He wasn’t a youngling anymore but he didn’t have the centuries you had under your belt. He had yet to really read the ebb and flow, despite his years with his nose in a book. He would get there. You had faith. 

Your eyes moved back to the sky. Even the ocean full of lights changed, and it seemed untouched by time. “Just prepare yourself, my pet.”

Yeonjun perked up, and if he had been a dog, his ears would have been pointed forward to you to listen. “Can we play tonight?”

You tossed back your head and laughed. Tears beaded at the corner of your eyes, you were laughing so hard. “You’d think that your libido would have died down a smidgeon.”

Yeonjun slowly but firmly kissed up your arm. “I always crave your body; I am never satiated.”

“I love you,” You murmured.

Yeonjun’s eyes softened, eyes lighting up with adoration of you. “My heart will only stop beating when yours does.”

You scoffed. “Such an outdated way to commit yourself as a vampire. We died a long time ago, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun looked at you with every serious bone in his body. “If there is no you, there is no me. Our bones and muscles are knit together. There is no beginning or end. It is simply you and me.”

“I thought you read history not poetry,” You teased. Still, you exchanged a loving kiss.

“I read whatever I can get my hands on,” Yeonjun argued, lips chasing after yours when you sought to finish the kiss. “Now answer my question.”

You cupped Yeonjun’s soft cock through his leather pants. “Let’s get you some blood first. Then we can play to your heart's content.”

Yeonjun’s fingertips tickled your jaw as he looked to steal more kisses. “I need only your breath against my lips, your heartbeat against mine--oof!” He clutched his stomach where you had hit him. “Okay, enough poetic words, I get it!”

~~~Present Time~~~

Yeonjun found his familiar place by your coffin, folding his arms under his chin so he could stare at your face. These days he swore he could see micro expressions on your face. He was sure he could tell when you were reliving your nightmares instead of dreams. There was the tiniest of frown lines between your eyebrows but no one else could see it when he pointed out. He could also tell when you were living the good times with him. He had studied the curve of your lips for centuries; he fucking knew when they had a sliver of a smile. He often made you do that when you were awake, not looking to validate his corny lines. 

You were waking up soon. He knew it. Once upon a time, you told him that you could anticipate what would happen next. That you had lived so many lives and so many faces that you had accumulated the sense when change was coming. Yeonjun had finally earned that trick after centuries of watching over you. 

“I have so much to show you when you wake up,” Yeonjun sighed softly. “But first, you're going to fuck me until I can't forget what it feels like to be inside of you again.”

“Yeon…jun…?”

Yeonjun threw himself backwards, the raspy voice coming from the glass coffin filled with flowers scaring him. He rubbed his eyes, blinked several times and then crawled back up to where you were lying. Your eyes were pale, indicating you definitely needed some blood, but they were open.

Tears gathered at the corners of Yeonjun’s eyes but he smiled so brightly. “You’re awake.”

Your eyes widened with the recognition that your lover was indeed not dead. You sat up with speed becoming of a vampire, sending the top of the glass coffin straight into the wall adjacent. It shattered with bone-rattling noise, but you only had eyes for Yeonjun. “You’re alive.”

“I have waited for you,” Yeonjun sobbed, his shoulders shaking. “I have been here while you slumbered, guarding your body. Have you dreamt of me, my love? Was I good to you in your dreams?”

You raised your sharp-nailed hand to cup Yeonjun’s face. His tears wetted your hand but you cared not. “How long?”

Yeonjun hiccupped. “I’m almost as old as you were when you began to sleep.”

“Oh, Yeonjun,” You lamented.

“I was here every day. Every year. Every century. I knew you would need to see me, to touch me to believe I was real. I don’t care how long you slept. I just wanted to be here when you woke up.” Yeonjun’s shoulders finally stopped quivering, calming down.

You smiled so tenderly at Yeonjun in that moment, and he swore he might break, like the glass coffin lid you had shattered only moments ago. This moment didn’t feel real but it was all Yeonjun wanted, for this to be real. “You really did mean when you said that it is simply you and me.”

Yeonjun took your hand cupping his face and brought it to his lips to kiss the back of it, just like the last night you shared before you were fooled into thinking he was no more. It made your throat tighten with emotion. “My heart will only stop beating when yours does.”

You surged forward, throwing your arms around Yeonjun’s neck, and kissed him. You kissed him like it had been you waiting five hundred years for HIM to wake up. “I love you,” you gasped. “My heart will only stop beating when yours does.”

Yeonjun lifted you out of your coffin, cradling you in his arms. He carried you into the main chamber of the castle. He had to cross through them to bring you to his bedroom--your shared bedroom.

“Holy shit.” Beomgyu whistled. “She's fucking awake.”

Kai dropped his phone on his face in shock while Soobin smacked the back of Beomgyu’s head. “Have some respect.”

Taehyun teared up but dashed his tears away. “Romance isn’t dead!”

“Wait…Yeonjun! Where are you going?” Soobin called out.

You chuckled under your breath. “Did you say I was going to fuck you until you can't forget what it feels like to be inside of me again?”

Yeonjun hefted you in his arms so he could bury his face into your neck. “I know you just came from a coffin but I don't think you will be leaving the bed for a few days.”

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so it features mentions of killing/ description of injury/ general violence. Some minor fluff and minor suggestiveness(maybe?) Soulmate! AU, Enemies to Lovers

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 3,922

A/N: Part of the Good For Your Soul Series. I'd gotten sick there for a couple weeks so here's a longer chapter to make up for it all. Things are happening now even just a little but hopefully you all like how it's going.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five (here) | Chapter Six (coming soon)

——————

Doflamingo felt a rush of triumph flood his body as he grinned widely at the sight of you falling to the ground under the impact of his hand striking you sharply across the face. He relished the yelp of pain and the thud as you slumped against the wall. Even better was the sight of your cheek already bruising from his strike and the trickle of blood slowly dripping from your trembling lips. Your defiant gaze and furious glare remained in place, only heightened now by the shine of unshed tears. With a building chuckle Doflamingo raised his hand with exaggerated slowness and arched his fingers, summoning his strings to attach themselves to your wrists, wrapping so tightly that faint red lines appears against your previously unmarked skin and dragged you against your will until you stood. Adding insult to injury, you were pulled higher until you were dangling in the air and eye-level with him. Another flick and twitch of his fingers and new strings began to slide around your throat, getting tighter and tighter and-

The sound of footsteps against the polished floors outside his office made Doflamingo snap out of his daydream and he glared heavily at the disruption. Whoever that was was going to pay severely for their inability to walk quietly. Slamming his hand on the desk he rose sharply and stormed towards the door, throwing it open and freezing to see you walk by at the right moment. You stopped and tilted your head at him, turning to face him properly as you slowly analysed his tense body and abrupt appearance. Condescendingly you pouted at him. “Aww what’s wrong? Were you hoping I was a defenceless servant to attack?” You asked, the mock concern in your voice thick and smug. “Really my heart’s breaking for your troubles.”

“Yeah, you really look it.” Doflamingo grinned, lowering his arm from its coiled position that had been ready to attack. “And what have you planned for today? Besides strutting about my palace?”

“Oh well I do have a large block of strutting scheduled for today, can’t be avoided.” You explained in false severity. “In between I have a packed diary of meetings and galas. You know how it is.” Doflamingo chuckled at your casual sarcasm. You’d been here for a week already and he still found it a strange mix of aggravating and refreshing to be spoken to the way you did. Even those in his family restrained their tongue in some capacity with him or they regarded him with a small flicker of fear combined with their undying adoration for him. Not you though, you held no fear for him. He watched as you slowly craned your head to look beyond him and into the office, in search of something or someone only to see it was empty. “Well what got you so homicidal this time?”

“You.” Doflamingo answered smoothly. He didn’t feel any need to hold back, instead he waited until you straightened and met his gaze once more before going into further detail. “Your footsteps interrupted the enjoyable daydream I was having about being able to hurt you.”

“Aww had I known I would have interrupted you sooner.” You grinned, not at all surprised. “Was I crying? Begging?”

“No, you were too busy being strangled by my strings to make a noise.” You eyed Doflamingo as he took a step closer towards you, his fingers reaching out to lightly move across your throat, the image of the thin deep red lines digging into your soft skin still fresh in his mind. 

“Fun.” You chimed in, lightly swatting his hand away with ease. “In my daydreams your drowning very slowly.” Doflamingo’s grinned widened significantly at your own confession. How strange to think that other soulmates in their existences must have had sweeter or more intimate daydreams about the other half of their pair, not the ways they’d harm the other like you and he did. 

Behind his red tinted glasses he watched you walk away from him, only turning to step into his office again when you’d disappeared around the corner. As he did so he paused to see Violet a few feet away, watching him intently. He knew that look and rolled his eyes, silently signalling for her to enter his office and even left his door open while he moved lazily to his desk. Doflamingo waited for the sound of Violet closing the door behind her before he looked up to see her approach. “What’s troubling you?”

“It’s not going to work out the way you’re hoping it is.”

“What isn’t?” He asked, leaning back in his seat and propping up one of his feet onto his knee. “I have a lot of things going on. You’re going to have to be specific.”

“You won’t be able to harm them. Ever.” Violet statement was firm and it made him cock his head slightly to the side, grin dropping just a fraction. “Nothing you’ve tried has worked so far and nothing you try in the future will work. Soulmates can’t harm one another regardless of their feelings for each other.”

“There’s a first for everything Violet and you know better than anyone that I always succeed once I set my mind to it.”

“Then perhaps this is the first time that you fail?” She suggested, her eyes steeling slightly as the true nature of the former Princess began to draw itself out from under her pretence of being his loyal officer. “I peered at your souls just now as you conversed. The connection has deepened since that first day you learned the truth. In spite of the cruel words and murder attempts the longer you two are in proximity the stronger that bond is getting.”

“Why are you telling me that, Violet?”

“Just letting you know what to expect so that down the line you can remember that I told you so. You should do the right thing for once and distance yourself from them now. Let them go and have some semblance of a life instead of being stuck here because you refuse to accept they are the one person you can’t kill.”

“They aren’t going anywhere Violet.” Doflamingo all but growled, his expression darkening. 

“Getting possessive?” Violet asked unable to hide the small smile twitching at her lips as she turned and headed for the door. “Fine. Just remember I warned you.”

———-

Doflamingo had intended to not let Violet’s words strike a nerve but it did. He’d declared from day one that you weren’t going anywhere because he refused to let you be at risk of meeting your end by any other means than his hands. Her assessment that the the longer you two were in each other’s direct presence ensured the bond as soulmates would strengthen also annoyed him. Would new ‘side effects’ occur over time too? Would he be incapable of saying an insult in case it technically counted as hurting your feelings? Angrily he ran his hand through his hair and glared out the window, watching the lights of the streets and houses in the city below break up some of the night’s darkness. Doflamingo scowled at the complication of it all and his mind began to drift back to his intention to draw out stronger emotions from you, to at least make you break in some capacity. If even that possibility was at risk of being taken from him, he became resolved to do that now.

Turning sharply he left his bedroom and made his way down to the corridor your living quarters were at. Grinning, he pulled out his gun and unloaded the full chamber into the ceiling, the gunshots echoing loudly just outside your door. He chuckled at the sound of movement from inside your door. The door to the bedroom opened and you appeared, your face scrunched in sleepy confusion. A long yawn built in your chest as you looked around only to groan at the sight of Doflamingo grinning at you. “Guns again?” You asked with another yawn, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes to focus on him properly. Slowly you looked at your door to see there weren’t even any bullet holes. “Where did you aim?” You followed Doflamingo’s finger as he pointed up and now you were really confused. “What are you planning?”

“I decided you don’t need to sleep.” He explained with a shrug.

“You’re trying to see if you can kill me through sleep deprivation?” You asked groggily, leaning against your doorframe. Honestly Doflamingo hadn’t considered that, he was just set on seeing if he could torment you. Still he said nothing, now liking this possible solution to the problem. “A little unconventional but I guess it could work? But you know I’m not going to go along with that willingly? I like my sleep too much. So how do you plan on ensuring I don’t sleep without putting your own at risk of your own rest?”

“Oh I have my ways.”

“Without using servants or your fan club?”

“Family”

“Fanclub.” You repeated with a sleepy grin. “Because if they have a hand in keeping me awake then isn’t that the same as my idea of just getting someone to kill me on your behalf?”

“Like I said, I’ll find a way.” Doflamingo chuckled before turning and walking away, now having to start planning. The sound of gunfire tore through the air once more and Doflamingo stopped and looked at the floor. The bullets meant for him lying at his feet. Slowly he turned to see you pointing your own pistol at him. “Now where did you get that?”

“I have my ways too.” You answered before going back into your room. Doflamingo laughed and continued down the corridor. He’d let you have tonight to actually rest.

———-

For the next three days Doflamingo was true to his word and found a way to be responsible for keeping you awake. During the day when you had left your room he’d infiltrated a countless amount of alarm clocks into your quarters all set at specific times so you would woken and have no choice but to get out of bed to find the right one and turn it off. Then when he realised you were starting to find places to sneak off to and nap during the day he intervened by finding you and waking you. This time he found you in one of the libraries, curled up on one of the sofas and sleeping. With a curious tilt of his head he hummed to himself and grabbed the nearest vase of flowers, dumping the flowers and cold water onto your face. While he couldn’t drown you, the shock of the water hitting your face was enough to startle you awake. 

“You’re an asshole, you know that right?” You asked, voice thick with exhaustion and holding none of its usual edge that he’d been used to. With a groan you pulled yourself up to a sitting position and brush the flowers off of your soaked body. Doflamingo observed you silently, unable to stop himself from noting the way your clothes now clung just a little tighter against your skin. “I’m awake you can go now. Go do your criminal King duties.”

“Would love to but I’m just passing time while waiting on a call.” He explained. “Remember your little island you’d been stationed on? We’re going to finalise the deal.”

“Right. Weapons and foot soldiers in exchange for profit and resources.” You nodded slumping back and rubbing your stiff neck. 

“Exactly. I think I’m going to be kind and send them extra men to ensure every Marine is wiped off that island for good measure.” Doflamingo mused and grinned widely when you paused. There was the flicker in your eyes again. Only this time because of your lack of sleep you weren’t able to hide your emotions as clearly. You knew something about the island.

“This group doesn’t know you’re the one they’re working with do they?” You asked, a smile fighting to pull at your lips. ”You’re using an alias?”

“Still an alias they’re familiar with.”

“When your pirate friend calls, ask them if the Midnight Lake is as nice as it sounds.”

“And why would I do that?” Doflamingo asked while you got to your feet and tiredly stretched out your limbs. “What is it you know?”

“Ask him. Don’t ask him. Quite honestly I don’t care.” You shrugged, taking a step passed Doflamingo’s larger frame only to be grabbed sharply and in seconds you were pinned on the closest surface which was a desk, staring at him as he bore down, his face dangerously close. Tiredly your mind began to catch up with your position on the desk surface, your hands were captured in his larger ones, on either side of your head. His grip was like a vice, you could only really tell from the way the veins rose agains this skin but as always you felt no harm in the hold. You glanced away from his hand and returned your delayed attention back to his face. “What now?”

“I asked you what it is you know about the island.” Doflamingo repeated, his grin gone and his tone deeper and calmer which should have made him seem more sinister but still your body felt no fear. You had no need to be. You also had no need to give him an answer, at least not the one he wanted.

“Ask your friend first and then I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me now.”

“God this must frustrate you so much.” You laughed up at him. “I’m not your servant or part of your King Doffy fan club. I’m not going to just do something because you tell me to.” You lifted your foot and set it squarely against his chest, pushing him back so you could sit up. Just at that moment the library door burst open and you both looked to see one of the pirates under Doflamingo’s command freeze immediately at the sight. 

Blankly you blinked at the flustered subordinate as their mouth rapidly opened and shut as they tried to work out if they should apologise, say what they came in to say, kneel down and accept his punishment or just leave. You resumed sitting up and pulled out of Doflamingo’s hold while he straightened. Now back on your feet and walking you felt a fresh wave of exhaustion crash over your body. Your vision blurred briefly and your body staggered in the middle of your step but you managed to recover in time to avoid falling over. Knowing Doflamingo would be busy with his criminal call meant you could quickly change into dry clothes and sleep without interruption. 

———-

“Joker to hear you’re going to send more weapons than originally discussed is such a relief. Truly you’re a godsend. You-” Doflamingo began to zone out of fully listening to the adoring voice at the end of the phone, the overly appreciative words beginning to rub him the wrong way. He was too busy thinking about your suggestion to mention this ‘midnight lake’ and how it was clear you knew something. Even asking if this pirate knew who he was truly dealing with brought more irritation. He wouldn’t treat a betrayal kindly. “Joker?” Doflamingo blinked, his eyes on the map as he sharpened his mind once more. 

“Yes?”

“Sorry, you’re a busy man so I hope I’m not cutting into your valuable time.”

“No, no. I should apologise. I was distracted.” Doflamingo began, sitting back in his seat as he quickly thought of how to subtly bring up the subject without causing suspicion. “My new lover spotted the map you sent. They thought Midnight Lake sounded romantic, it’s made me curious.”

“Midnight Lake?” The voice on the end of the den den mushi repeated, their tone holding some degree of tension. So there was something. “Oh well you can tell them it’s a sight to behold. One of the gems of the island.”

“Good to know…” Doflamingo mused, fingers lightly drumming on his desk. Quickly he summoned a string to slam his office door open, the loud impact echoing through to the man at the other end of the call. “Something urgent’s come up. You’ll have to call me back, give me half an hour.” Without waiting for the only acceptable answer to sound, Doflamingo ended the call and left his office, heading straight to your room. Approaching your door he caught sight of the mountain of broken alarm clocks set outside. He chuckled, not entirely surprised to find you’d managed to find them all. The level of destruction you’d caused on them was a surprise though. Not able to stay and appreciate it fully, he entered your room and approached your bed where you lay, completely unconscious and breathing deeply. 

“Wake up.” He ordered, eye twitching when you didn’t even twitch. Doflamingo drew closer and called out your name, watching your finger twitch but still you remained sleeping. Clicking his tongue he climbed onto the bed and for the second time today he found himself poised over your relaxed form. 

At the added weight onto the mattress you finally stirred. Blearily your eyes cracked open and your heavy head lifted off of the pillows just enough to make out who was in front of you. When you saw it was Doflamingo you made a nonsensical grumble and flopped back down already asleep. You were only partly aware of his hands finding your shoulders but then let out a growl of frustration when you were shaken. “Whaaaat?” You drew out the word as you managed to summon the faintest resource of energy to waken and glare at the man who was unfortunately your soulmate and greatest annoyance in life. “What now?”

“Midnight Lake.” Doflamingo stated. “Tell me what it is and what you know.”

“What’s in it for me?” You asked with a yawn, sitting up and gathering the pillows behind you to at least prop you up since clearly you weren’t going back to sleep yet. 

“I’ll never interfere with your sleep again.” Doflamingo propositioned, catching your attention.

“Deal.” You agreed and gestured for him to start talking. “What did he say about it first?”

“He said it was a sight to behold, certainly one of the island’s gems.” He stated and waited for your response. What he hadn’t been expecting was for your burst of laughter. This was unlike any laugh he’d heard from you. This was not the hysterical laugh you’d made when you learned you were soulmates or the cold, scathing, mocking laughs you threw his way at times. This was genuine warmth and amusement. Finally you let your joy settle and you grinned at him.

“Oh you’re going to love this.” You began. “Well maybe not…Show me the map.”

“It’s in my office.”

“So go get it.” You instructed with a roll of your eyes. Doflamingo glared. It was bad enough you once again getting the upper hand but he wasn’t going to see to your whims. 

Swiftly he hooked his arm around your waist and lifted you out of the bed, carrying you down the corridor while you were too tired to really protest being dragged out of bed once again. If Doflamingo was to keep his word then this would be the last time he could do so. Plus you didn’t want to admit but being held against his chest and feeling the warmth of his body was oddly comfortable but you just reasoned it was because you were so sleep deprived. Before you knew it you were in Doflamingo’s office and sat at his desk, perched on his lap as he pulled the map you asked for into view. Yawning you rubbed your eyes and grabbed a pencil to begin indicating the areas for Doflamingo to pay attention to. 

“Okay firstly you’ve been given an old map.” You explained and Doflamingo’s jaw clenched. “I’d guess at least a year’s difference. Normally that wouldn’t be an issue but given all that’s happened here your little pirate friend is withholding information on purpose.”

“What happened?”

“Well for one there’s no more civilians living there.” You began, your pencil scoring out the names of the towns from the map. “The biggest mine is completely depleted of resources.” Your pencil slowly drew the border of the land that the mine had once occupied. “And sadly for you, there’s no Marine on that island. We left when all civilians had been evacuated and knew there was nothing left of value there.”

“It’s abandoned?” Doflamingo asked with a low snarl as the reality of the deception that was being attempted on him. 

“Not abandoned. Last I heard the Revolutionary Army occupied it to act as a small base of operations or something.” You shrugged, your stinging eyes getting heavier. Doflamingo’s anger was building, the Revolutionary Army hadn’t even been mentioned during the talks. “My guess is your friend is looking to just take your weapons and sell them on after killing your men and making it seem like they died ‘taking over the island’ and fighting the Revolutionaries. They were never intending on setting foot on that island. Plus you can’t give a share of resources if there are none to give. Someone tried to get the better of you.”

“So what was Midnight Lake?” Doflamingo asked, his teeth grinding together while you let out another sleepy laugh.

“Midnight Lake was man-made.” You explained managing to lift the pencil to indicate to its name on the map just beside where the mine was. “It was the waste water from the refinery and smelt atrocious. Certainly not a gem.” With another long heavy yawn you sat back, your eyes falling closed. Doflamingo looked down at the feeling of your body settling against his chest, asleep once again. His fingers twitched at the sight, part of him toyed with the idea of just setting you down on the sofa or taking you back to your room but stopped himself. After all he’d promised he wouldn’t interfere with your sleep ever again and this was just him keeping his word.  

Suddenly the den den mushi began to ring and you slightly stirred, causing Doflamingo’s hand to settle against your head while the other lifted the receiver to answer before you could wake. Immediately you settled and a small sigh broke from your lips. “Joker? Is now a good time?”

“Yes, everything is fine. The previous situation was dealt with but I’ll have to keep this brief.” Doflamingo began, managing to contain his rage against this disgusting weasel who thought they could ever succeed in getting the better of him and steal from him. “Given the amount of weapons and manpower I’ll be now giving you, you’ll have to come to me to collect it. The last thing I want is for my precious cargo to be at risk without ample protection and your ships will be more than enough.”

“O-oh well if you think that’d be best, Joker then who am I to argue?”

“Indeed..” Doflamingo grinned. “Give me your location and I’ll send my closest representative to escort you to the island I’m staying at. I promise you and your men will be given the best welcome.”

“Joker, your kindness is truly great. There’s no need for pirates as lowly as us.”

“Nonsense, you all deserve it.” Doflamingo chuckled. “We’ll see you soon.” 

----------------------------------------------

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[creganslover]

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

<< Guidelines upon requesting >>

and here is the guidelines on what you need to know before requesting, listed here is the characters I will write for, the genres I’m open to write, and the basic do’s and don'ts in order to help me make your request properly!

P.S it is said on my bio whether requests are open or not, so please be aware! :>

the characters I will write for:

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen

Jacaerys Targaryen

Lucerys Velaryon

Alicent Hightower

Gwayne Hightower

Aegon Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Helaena Targaryen

Cregan Stark

Criston Cole

Addam of Hull/Velaryon

these are the list of characters that I am confident enough to write for, however, if you have another character in mind from the HOTD universe, please ask then I’ll see if I can do it ♡

genre’s I am open to write:

Fluff

Angst

Crack! Fics

Hurt/comfort

Soulmate AUs

Songfics

Drabbles

Prompts

Platonic! Fics

Headcanons

Blurbs

NSFW! (see do’s and don’ts, MDNI w 18+ fics!)

Will be updated as time goes on*

do’s and don’ts:

↳ I would like to start off by pointing out that yes, this is an HOTD centered account and the fics I would be writing will definitely involve canon-typical incest and violence and graphic scenes and others regarding nsfw, so if you are uncomfortable with that, please refrain from reading <3 but are all of my fics going to be NSFW? Nope! I would love to write and explore different genres if I am able.

↳ For requesting, please be specific as it's hard to come up with a plot at times when I don’t have my creative juices flowing T^T

(Be specific in who would you want me to write, and the kind of genre/s you want to see happen as well as what gender you want the reader to be. If none was stated, I would then decide to make the reader gender neutral.)

↳ I can write for poly! relationships if asked.

↳ Please be polite when requesting.

↳ Always, always send requests through my ask box! Please also refrain from messaging me requests.

(Sending requests through my ask box makes it much more easier for me to keep track and add your requests to my list along with the others! :D)

↳ Please be patient. I’m a real person and often times I don’t feel well or motivated enough to write. Aside from that, I also have uni so I may not be able to do your requests in time, but rest assured I’ll try and get them posted as soon as I’m able to once my schedule is free.

↳ Regarding NSFW!! I’m still experimenting on writing smut and uh all the crazy kinks involved in it, but I would like to give writing nsfw a try if ever presented the opportunity :) however, I would like to advise minors to please not read any of my fics labeled with 18+ content!

Other rules may be added soon*

For now, that is the list of what you need to know before requesting! I would love to see you in my inbox soon. ♡

[catboydogma]

give the world away/wake up lonely

codywan week 2024 sol master list (solsterlist)

codywan week 2024 day 3 prompts, sol edition: soulmate au, after the war

notes: this is riffing off the quinlan/fox soulmates au i did a while back. if you haven't read that one, you don't have to; the gist of it is that soulmates can't lie to each other. for our resident guys who love lying above any other favored pastime or hobby, this presents a Number of Problems. canon timelines? there is no canon timeline here. tcw is my sandbox and baby i have started cultivating a bed of beautiful plants native to arid regions. title from crowd surf off a cliff by emily haines & the soft skeleton.

wc: 2,206

cross-posted to ao3

This was, admittedly, a somewhat inauspicious first meeting. Obi-Wan had been shipped back to Coruscant post-capture by Ventress for surgery and a recovery time that was cut much too short by politics, of all things. Entirely miffed by this shitshow, Obi-Wan had made his complaints clear to the Council. And Bail. And Padmé. And the beleaguered young Healer they’d had attending him. Yes, he might often leave medical before his sentence was up, but that was on his terms. To have his affairs arranged by some perfect stranger instead, in the name of the war effort? Oh, the utter fucking gall of these people.

Alpha-17 was recovering on Kamino, at least. Obi-Wan had gotten away light, relatively speaking. He’d said as much to Vokara Che, and she’d made the most fascinating expression at him.

In his absence, the 212th had been headed by some interim Admiral of the Navy and the new Commander. They were already engaged clear across the Rim, and so Obi-Wan was shipped back out in another transport with a contingent of transfers rotating out from the Coruscant Guard. By the time they dropped out of hyperspace at the back end of the venator, the battle was over and cleanup had commenced.

Obi-Wan was sore, he wanted a proper shower with the desperation of an alcoholic approaching the three-month mark, and to top it all off, his trick knee was acting up again from all the time spent sitting around in the transport. Obi-Wan was not the sort to take advantage of his position either as a High General or a Jedi Master, but really, couldn’t they have given him a transport bigger than a bloody Pathfinder?

Bag slung over one shoulder, Obi-Wan located his—allegedly temporary—cane and tried his best not to limp too visibly. The hangar of the venator was busy with white- and gold-painted troopers, only a few in dress greys cutting back and forth through the bustle. Whoever was running this operation, they were doing it well; even with the distraction Obi-Wan and his entourage presented, few troopers were distracted from their own tasks.

“At ease,” Obi-Wan said, after he’d saluted the squad of troopers waiting to greet him. The Command Corps, with only a handful of familiar signatures. The casualty rate directly after Obi-Wan and Alpha-17’s capture had… suffered. “I am Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. Commander Fox sends his regards.” He’d said something quite a bit more rude, but Obi-Wan wasn’t about to repeat that to a perfect stranger, brothers they may be.

“Clone Marshal Commander 2224,” his Commander replied. Alpha-17 referred to this one as Cody in their little catch-up holocall before Obi-Wan had been deployed again. He’d followed it up with “that little shit” and other things at once less complimentary and more affectionate. Obi-Wan, after taking a few days to parse through the backhanded compliments and veiled praise that Alpha-17 liked to communicate in, had taken this to mean that his new Commander was highly skilled, exceedingly competent, and smarter than all the Navy personnel aux staff. Combined. That, and he had a sense of humor imparted to him directly by Alpha-17.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Obi-Wan said, shaking the Commander’s hand in a firm grip. Professional. Brief. He opened his mouth again to say something about how he looked forward to working with the 212th and a great many more successful engagements, and the words stopped up his throat. Obi-Wan discreetly cleared his throat and—

“Oh, no,” Obi-Wan said instead, an entirely honest display of dismay breaking out. No, no, no, no, this could not be happening.

The Commander’s hand tightened on his. “Is there a problem, sir?”

“What’s your name, if I may, Commander?” Obi-Wan asked, belatedly releasing his hand.

A static fuzz split the air as the Commander stuttered on—something. His serial, Obi-Wan suspected. Which… would have been a lie, if the Commander did not truly consider his serial to be his name.

“Heck,” the Commander said. He pulled his helmet off and flipped it over to tuck under an arm in one smooth motion, mouth slightly agape as he stared at Obi-Wan.

He was a handsome man, his Commander. Very handsome. In the back of his head, Obi-Wan thought he might be hearing howling laughter that sounded a bit too much like Alpha-17.

“Quite,” Obi-Wan said. “Ah… I suppose we’re due for a walk-around. But, after, perhaps, if you might… show me to my quarters, and we can have a, ah… more informal debriefing?” Force, but he hadn’t stuttered like this since Qui-Gon had tried to guilt him into taking care of one of his notoriously finicky bonsais.

His Commander was silent for a moment. Testing the bounds of their new… constraints, Obi-Wan suspected. Finally, he said: “I’d like that.”

…two years later, after the war:

“That Sith is lucky he’s already dead,” Cody snarled up at the ceiling.

Obi-Wan patted Cody’s hand and tried to suppress the feeling that he was about to be an accessory to a hideously violent crime. “How’s your nausea, then? Manageable?”

Cody snarled something incoherent. Perhaps he’d tried for a “fine” or even a bold “utterly negligible.” Obi-Wan was not the most empathic Jedi, instead sitting—like many things in his life—at a comfortably average level of Force empathy. Yet even he could feel the waves of sick vertigo and queasiness washing over Cody every few minutes. After a moment of muttering and another moment of grimly, doggedly swallowing as another wave of nausea broke over him, Cody gave Obi-Wan a baleful, sweaty glare. “Stop asking me questions.”

“My brave Commander,” Obi-Wan said, digging his thumbs into the base of Cody’s thumb and the joint of his wrist.

The medics had concocted two different ways to disable the inhibitor chips that Lieutenant Fives had uncovered—surgery or injection. The series of vaccines was a clever combination of medical nanotechnology originally developed to fight against deep-rooted viral infections and a biotechnological approach to ensure that the body’s systems were able to quickly and safely break down the chip from the inside, piggybacking off local immune response.

Their results could not be denied. Both approaches were as safe as they could be, with an astonishingly low mortality or mishap rate. The immune response, however, was… somewhat vicious. Obi-Wan had been able to glean that Cody was getting off relatively light; he’d just the muscle aches and nausea, but no fever, and he had yet to actually vomit anything up. Whether that was due to his body having a good response, or Cody’s own iron self-discipline… well, who was really to say.

“Can’t imagine the company’s all that right now,” Cody muttered. His jaw worked furiously and he leaned his head back against the pillows of his medical cot.

Obi-Wan hummed and worked his way up Cody’s forearm, measuring his pulse with two fingers pressed into the soft inside of Cody’s elbow. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be, right now. Until you tell me to fuck off, I shall continue to remain right here.”

“Fuck—nhgghk—fuck… you,” Cody hissed.

Ah, Obi-Wan’s love was such a romantic. He only felt a little bad about trapping Cody in a proverbial corner, but if Cody truly wanted him to leave, then he could say so. Until then… well. It wasn’t like Cody could lie to him. Obi-Wan tried not to look quite so smug, but with Cody’s hand spasming on his arm like he was imagining strangling Obi-Wan, perhaps he wasn’t as successful as he’d thought.

“Only twelve more hours,” Obi-Wan said, soothing. He smoothed a hand up Cody’s bicep and started in on his shoulders, finding knots of tension and digging in deep to ease them out. With the persistent muscle aches, these knots would likely be back in a matter of hours, if that. But if Obi-Wan could do something to help Cody, as small as it could be, he was going to do it.

“You should go,” Cody rasped, eyes closed and brow furrowed. His shoulder spasmed under Obi-Wan’s hand, sweat-slick skin and hard muscle shifting painfully.

Hm. Well. That hadn’t been what Obi-Wan had planned. He pressed the back of his hand to Cody’s forehead. No fever; the sweats and shakes, a little warm from lying in bed, but nothing concerning. Fighting to keep his voice neutral, Obi-Wan asked, “And do you want me to go?”

Cody gritted his teeth, lips peeling back in a snarl. He started and stopped in the middle of half a dozen words. “It doesn’t matter what I want. You should leave.”

Obi-Wan’s heart seized in his chest, something toothier than grief coming to settle behind his breastbone. Sometimes the inability to lie to one’s soulmate was a blessing, if a complicated one. Sometimes… sometimes it meant that when Cody said such a thing, Obi-Wan knew to his bones that Cody truly believed it. “Yes, it matters very much what you want,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even but not gentle. Cody so hated to be “coddled,” in his words. Obi-Wan, who could tease out the truth, knew that Cody didn’t necessarily want to be treated gently or handled with care—he simply wanted to be treated like he was precious. Like he meant something to someone.

“And,” Obi-Wan continued, when it seemed like no more was forthcoming from Cody and he was no longer fighting to keep the wobble out of his own voice, “unless and until you say ‘Obi-Wan, my precious love, papple of my eye and light of my galaxy, I want you to leave me alone,’ I shall be remaining by your side.”

Cody’s face screwed up. It looked terrifyingly like he might cry. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what he would do if Cody started crying, other than start sobbing alongside him.

“What if the chip activates?” Cody finally bit out, sounding like the words had been carved out of him. “I read the brief on Fray’s procedure. And Longshot’s. And—and I could. I might—you don’t—want to see me. Like this. I—” Cody heaved for breath, eyes gone glassy and the sinews of his throat standing in high relief with tension. “—I can’t. If something happens, I can’t. If the chip activates and I—lose myself—it’s.” Cody cursed, as vile as anything Obi-Wan had ever heard him use.

Obi-Wan firmly laced his fingers between Cody’s and checked his vambrace with his free hand. It must be terrifying to know that you might kill those you held most dear. But the chips didn’t activate with a specific order—Fray’s had activated on Order 37: mass arrest and execute the local civilian population to capture a wanted individual. The poor trooper had almost killed a pair of orderlies with his own bootlaces. Longshot’s had… well. They were yet lucky to still have the trooper with them, but he would have to be carefully monitored in the next few weeks to make sure he didn’t suffer clotting in the vessels of his neck or a stroke. But with a full one hundred and fifty orders, the chance that Cody’s would activate in the first place was slim, let alone land on the one that would have him trying to kill Obi-Wan.

And yet… this wasn’t a scenario where likelihoods and statistics would help. Obi-Wan squeezed Cody’s hand, then showed him the screen embedded into his vambrace. A med droid had sent him an update on the progress of Cody’s procedure, showing a near-incomprehensible feed of the nanites as they disabled what remained of Cody’s chip.

“You’re well past the threshold for the chip activating successfully,” Obi-Wan told him. “And I always want to see you, Cody. I especially want to be here while you’re fighting through this. You won’t lose yourself. You’re already past the worst of it. I know you can hang on for a little while longer, and there’s no part of you that I would turn away from.” He raised Cody’s hand to kiss the back of it, lips pressed carefully to Cody’s scarred and calloused knuckles. “There is no part of you that could make me turn away.” He would repeat it as many times as Cody would let him.

“I don’t want to wake up someone different,” Cody rasped. But he didn’t pull away from Obi-Wan, and he let Obi-Wan smooth a hand over his curls and press a kiss to the space between his brows.

“I’ll keep an eye on the chip,” Obi-Wan promised. With a rueful smile, chest still aching, he echoed Cody’s own oft-repeated line back at him: “When have I ever let you down?”

“Never,” Cody murmured, face tightening as one—or perhaps several—of his muscles spasmed and locked up. He looked exhausted, riding the line between unconsciousness and apprehension.

“Just so. You’ll be alright,” Obi-Wan promised. “And I’ll be here.”

With that, Cody finally let himself slip into sleep, mind partially quieting. The fear was still there, as well as a biting edge of self-recrimination and dread-heavy resignation. Obi-Wan kept a bit of his awareness on the chip through the Force, monitoring it carefully. They would get through this safe and whole, and Obi-Wan would not suffer any other option.

[krisluxxeeempress]

PICK- A - PILE, HOW DOES YOUR PERSON FEEL ABOUT YOU?

Pile One ( Skeleton Lovers) :

First things first, it's very clear that you guys are lovers however, the card came out in the reverse. I personally hold the lovers card in higher regards in comparison to the two of cups card. Anyone can have a connections but very few truly have a Divine soulmate or Twin flame connection as that is what the Lovers card indicates for me. With that being said, you both are very aware that you have shared many lifetimes together however, the BS has followed with it. I am showing a separation and you guys may not be talking. The masculine in this dynamic feels like they have lost complete control and or, refused to control their sexual desires. He may have cheated or refused to commit! The masculine could have used work as an excuse to avoid commitment and to cover up dealings with another person. ( how typical , yawns) If that is not your case, this masculine could have very well misunderstood your soulmate connection in it's entirety and as a result refused to commit. I see you guys had a sexual relationships for some and for others, where you possibly never met- there was a lot of fantasizing and 4D, 5D sexual encounters taking place for the both of you. Someone could have a fear of commitment or true intimacy due to a previous failed and traumatizing relationship ( yawns again). I am showing either you, them or both of you cannot stop looking at each others pictures, videos, social media or listening to any voicemails that may be saved still. For some of you, your person was in silent competition with you and they are mad you did not compete. This silent competition could be due to finances, career status or positions. It could be competition where you are literally competing for this persons attention, affection and love. So basically, they tried to make you jealous. (yawns again). For some, there was no real competition, all illusion created by them. Others of you, this person was leading you on out of pure ignorance of what your connection really was and meant. Emphasis on meant as this connection could be past tense, as i am seeing someone moving on and no longer wanting to be stuck mentally or physically. Someone is sexually frustrated or both, I see baby oil, dildos which only means one thing masturbation. For some, this person wants to have a family with you, others you already have one and they are concerned that you may move a long distance away or simply, find someone else to start a family with. They are mad at themselves because they knew better, allegedly, but didn't do better when they had the opportunity. For some, you do not have children and may have verbalized this at some point which prompted them to seek elsewhere. You may have had a change of heart, not because of them, but maybe- however, you had a change of heart and now want children but the damage is done considering whatever they did during your separation. Or whatever they did, or didn't do that led to the separation. The Outcome is not being able to move on meanwhile you have. Energy is fluid and so this can change, keep that in mind however, as of right now- it's a strong no.

Pile Two ( XOXO ):

Intuitively, this energy feels like a game. Like someone is playing chess and the other is playing checkers! ( i wrote this before pulling the cards) Let's proceed, shall we? Someone may have a Aquarius or Pisces moon, or moon on 11th or 10th house, regardless- i am getting that your person is completely detached or unable to identify how they feel at the moment. It's giving Linkin' park vibes, " Numb". The cards kept flying on the floor and so this can indicate someone who wants to brush things under the rug or they have a tendency to do this. If you had suspicions about your person cheating or using you for energy, attention or worse sex, it's true. It's hard to tell what side the reader is on because this person either is genuinely emotionally devoid or they have a strong poker face. Interesting i mentioned chess, checkers and now poker. Could be dealing with a Leo or Pisces. This energy seems confusing and all over the place! If this is your person for sure, it looks like they were using someone else until you wanted them or came back to them if there was a separation. I am wondering if Pile One resonated with you. I am also getting if someone claimed that a specific person or group of people were just their friends, the tarot cards and my intuition determined THAT WAS A LIE. This person wants to apologize for causing confusion, lying and either using you for sex or using others for sex until you came back around. I really think you should look into Pile One. You may have found out your position in all these mind games on your own or through this reading but they are mad because it looks like you have moved on or in the process of it. It looks like you are healing, focused on yourself and your financial stability- amongst other things that don't revolve around them and they are mad. They are mad that they lost at their own jigsaw games of BS. They are mad your standards are higher and defenses stronger now. They are mad you will no longer perform oral sex on them as it's clear you are the Goat with the Throat or Tongue, i don't know. They feel like you have moved on with a quickness and somehow it's an injustice. The outcome is only confirming that you have pulled back your loving energy and as of right now, i see no plans of you changing your mind. It looks like you are standing on principle and business. They want to apologize but . . I do not that being effective.

Pile Three ( Love Message):

Wow! this pile started off very strong with the world, death and lovers card all up right. This indicates to me a major transformation as within and so without! It appears like a lot of you are in relationship with the Divine and yourself and "your person" is really mad about this. They are mad you have chosen yourself. This person is realizing that they need you and want to have a heart to heart convo with you but the opportunistic card came out. This is the classic case of " you don't know what you have until it's gone" vibes. If you have no past person mad, this spread is indicating that you are unavailable to anyone past, present or future. Crazy thing is, this unattainable energy you are exuding is making other want to attain you. You are intelligent, stable, solid, and giving off royal vibes. You are committed to yourself and this is extremely attractive to the point, others are viewing you as a opportunity. This can be bad or good, you know this. Others see you as Husband or Wife material and are more than willing to fight for your affections. A lot of you have done the spiritual work to radiate such Divine and Royal energy. People want to be transparent with you, submissive even. They see your worth because you know your worth. There are some people who are mad you are not on their time or making time for them. In addition to, being mad that you do not show emotion! I feel like it was the complete opposite before where you wore your heart on your sleeve and even wiped your tears with the same sleeve. Sidenote, some of you may have a sleeve tattoo or this particular person- who feels entitled to your time and emotions, does. Some of you are just not the same person, it's the simple. You have came back from the dead, a completely new, powerful and fearless person. Whatever emotions you had, have died. These people that want you attention and love messages are going to have to be a magician to revive your emotions back from the dead, haha. You are not mean but you are direct and no nonsense. Some hate it and others love it. Congratulations, looks like a lot of respect, admiration and new beginnings are ahead, for you.

Thank you for reading! If this resonated, please consider hitting the reblog button so others can gain clarity and confirmation on their situations.

I offer more tarot readings on Youtube, Patreon & Tiktok! Check me out, links will be below for your convivence.

[kizudnyy]

Sincerely, your most dedicated fan.

《 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝙭 𝙃𝘼𝙒𝙆𝙎/𝙆𝙀𝙄𝙂𝙊 𝙏𝘼𝙆𝘼𝙈𝙄 》

They were soulmates- bounded by an invisible red string as fate would always bring them together. Yet, They were just… a civilian admiring from afar, someone who held no such importance to the world,

and..

He was hero soaring above high above, always looking out to those who are in need.

It was just too impossible. Even if they we're meant for each other- Such a cruel world indeed.

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Y/N has always admired the Pro Hero Hawks from afar ever since the beginning.

They were inspired by his bravery, the wits, the way he effortlessly moved through the sky and captured everyone's hearts– almost everything they would appreciate.

And as a dedicated fan, Y/N would always attend every public event where Hawks would make an appearance, but they could never muster up the courage to speak to him– even though they had multiple chances to do so.

One fateful evening, during a city-wide celebration of the heroes, The Heroes Gala, Y/N was able to finally find themselves in close proximity to Hawks. Despite the thousands of things they wish they could say, their voice fails them, and they can only manage a nervous smile.

Hawks– always so perceptive, notices Y/N’s gaze lingering a bit longer than most fans. He approaches with his usual charming grin, making a lighthearted comment about how he appreciates his most dedicated fans, especially towards the one infront of him.

Y/N stumbles through a few words of admiration before a few paparazz's crowded around them, prompting Y/N to step back as they were engulfed and pushed away.

Hawks looked at her in amusement and concern as the paparazzi closed in, their cameras flashed in his eyes and questions flew in immiedtly, making him forget about the little interaction and switch his attention to the crowd.

When days turned into weeks, Y/N continued on with their life, they would always look up at the sky, always hoping to catch a glimpse of those familiar wings.

Little do they know, Hawks had taken a special notice of their quiet admiration. Intrigued by Y/N’s sincerity and dedicated, he keeps an eye out for them whenever he's patrolling the city— whenever catching a glimpse of Y/N's blurry figure in the sky, he would always give a small smile and give a wave proudly.

However, it was no surprise that the nature of the Pro Hero’s lire is unpredictable and quite dangerous. Despite his fleeting curiosity, his duties would always be his first regards.

Y/N, unaware of the brief interest they sparked in their hero, moves on after accepting the harsh reality though, would always cherish that memory of that moment they shared.

Unrequited? Sure.. but not unappreciated. They each had a silent admiration from afar, small but precious part of both of their lives, yet they stood two worlds apart..

They were a civilian admiring from afar.

He was hero soaring above high above, always looking out to those who are in need.

MASTERLIST

[demigoddessqueens]

Hello dear author,

Would you be interested in writing a love story between one of Namor's generals (female) and him. She is second in comand after Namora, and is fiercely loyal to him, she would die for him. But she is only half talokan (one parent from land, one from talokan- maybe Namor found her and granted her passage and a place is his city). Anyway, she can hear his silent call for his soulmate (maybe he has a special name with which he telepathically calls her, tries to find her, but she keeps quite, thinking it might be a mistake). While on one of his visits to the outside world he stumbled upon a girl who bewitches him, and he is under her spell. Lots and LOTS of angst, but before they are married, on their wedding day reader calls him by his name (Real fact: his mother gave him a name that no one else knows. For his enemies he is Namor, for his people he is K'uk'ulkan, but only he remembers his birth name) and tells him her name that she knew for so long. That snaps the spell on him, they defeat the witch and marry.

Many thanks, can't wait to hear from you if you think you would like to give this story a go.

It’s been so long since I got a Namor request 😄 thanks nonnie!

Masterlist 11

You and Namor are inseparable. Everyone knows you two are the closest of confidants, maybe even friends, aside from Namora and Attuma

Despite your split parentage, Namor held that against you. The past pales in comparison to the present, and he’s always held you in the highest regards.

All of that changes when you least expect it.

He begins to hear her sirens song, curious as to who comes near his waters.

You see him less and less as days turn to weeks to months, and finally a full year. No sparring, or meetings or jests or inside matters as you did before.

The day you meet her is worse than any training or duress you’ve undergone. All of Namor’s attention focuses on her, the citizens begin to adore her, and you are but a mere afterthought.

Is your heartbreak from the jealousy? Or did you simply wish he was only for you, in any other capacity? That his happiness hinges on your “permission”?

You can barely register what you feel upon his prompt announcement of engagement and soon to be nuptials

As the ceremony goes on, you’re nowhere to be found. Hidden away, you can’t bear to t

A name cherished and given by his mother, who loved her surface home before retreating to the ocean.

Just at that moment, the haze clears from his eyes. The washing realization comes over Namor as he sees the panicked expression of the one who stole him away and the up

Once he finds you, you’re more shocked than ecstatic to see him here.

“Can you ever forgive me?”, “…maybe, but I would like to try again…”

An embrace feels more rewarding and healing than a kiss would in this moment.

[cadotoast]

In regard to your post (this), I humbly propose:

John Price x Reader, Soulmate AU of sort, fluffy but toxic.

John is no way in hell anything but an emotionally unavailable gentleman that makes his FWB love him. (IMO)

Ohhhh I like this prompt

Here you go! I hope it's good 😅

Civilian Female Reader x Emotionally Unavailable Soulmate Price.

Content warnings: toxic Price, allusions to sex but no actual smut, allusions to potential murder, slightly manipulative price

But Your Heart Got Teeth

The knock on your door is simultaneously expected and startling. You've been expecting this particular visitor since he'd signed the lease you'd emailed him a few days ago: John Price, a Captain in the SAS, and your new roommate.

"The door is open! Come on in!" You look around your living room one last time, the monochrome view mocking you for the barest of seconds before you turn towards the front door.

It swings open, and for the barest of seconds, you catch a glimpse of a mountain of a man, broad shoulders, well-groomed facial hair, and wearing a startled expression, before your world bursts into color.

~~~

"Hang on, hang on, hang on." Miriam waves her hands erratically in front of herself, stopping your rant. "Your hunk of a new roomie is your soulmate?"

You sigh into your cappuccino, the light brown color mesmerizing you.

"It was like some stupid romcom," you admit with a sigh. "Our eyes locked, he's standing in the doorway like some kind of Greek god, and then I have the most disorienting experience of my life."

"Did you pass out? I've heard some people pass out." Miriam stage-whispers to you across the cafe table.

While the burst of color has certainly been trippy to say the least, you and John had both gathered yourselves enough to shake hands, and you had assisted John in bringing his boxes in before you'd locked yourself into your bedroom and texted your best friend immediately.

Since then, you've googled a color chart, which before had been various shades of a color called "grey", and have been adjusting to such a vibrant world.

"No, I didn't pass out..." Your voice trails off. "but this whole 'soulmate thing' seems a bit anticlimactic."

Miriam chuckles at your use of air-quotes, stirring her tea. "Just because the universe has tied you two together by your souls doesn't mean you don't have to get to know the guy first." Her smirk grins. "What, did you expect him to drop everything and ravage you over the nearest surface?"

Your cheeks and ears warm with a blush. With a muttered "no, fuck you", you drain your cup and get to your feet to return it to the barista. Miriam is watching you like a hawk, and the minute your butt touches the soft green cushion of your chair, she pounces on you.

"Where's he from? What does he do? Does he have a girlfriend? What color are his eyes? Is he packing?"

Her enthusiasm is drawing some looks, and you rush to appease and quiet her shrill excitement.

"I don't know, he's military, I don't know, blue, and wouldn't you like to know?" You rattle off the answers to her rapid fire questions. "And why would the color matter to you? You can't tell the difference!"

"It matters to you, and therefore it matters to me." She reaches forward, her warm hand settling on your forearm. "So, how are you gonna jump his bones?"

~~~

Life with John as a roommate is... interesting. He sets up an auto draft to you each month for rent and his half of the utilities, even though he isn't at the place 80% of the time. You barely have time to learn that he was an only child, and to find a new brand of tea in your pantry, before he is shipped off for something work-based, and you're once again alone.

A week later, he is sneaking into the apartment at three in the morning, while you're having a midnight snack of cheesecake. Needless to say, you were both surprised to see each other.

~~~

A knocking on your bedroom door stirs you from sleep. Blearily, you roll over, glancing at the clock. 8 AM.

"Sorry to wake you," John's voice is muffled through the door. "But I was going to make breakfast. How do you like your eggs?"

You pause for a minute while your brain processes the information. "Um... Over easy, please." You rub your hands over your face tiredly. "Thank you, John."

"o'course." And then his heavy steps are recording once more.

When you exit your bedroom, clad in a long band T-shirt and leggings, you're greeted with the smell of bacon, eggs, and toast.

"Tea or coffee?" John looks over his shoulder to glance at you.

"Tea, preferably." For the first time, John cracks a smile at you, and you can't help but chuckle, walking around him to get to the electric kettle. "Though on occasion a coffee is nice."

John is wearing some comfortable-looking sweatpants and a worn T-shirt, similar to yours. The same band, actually, just a different tour.

The conversation between the two of you gets easier, less stilted and awkward. The two of you grow close over the following months. Perhaps too close. The first time you wake up in his bed, you know something has shifted.

"I'm not ready for a relationship." You tell him that afternoon. "Whatever is between us... I'm not ready for a boyfriend."

"Of course, love, whatever you want."

That should have been your sign.

You see other people. Or try to, anyways. They always fall through. So far, four dates in a row have bailed on you last minute, and you're starting to lose hope.

John always seemed to be home on the nights those dates fell through. Always there to pull you into his lap, listen to your tearful sniffles that another date has fallen through, and you're starting to question your worth.

He hugs you close to his chest and lets you bury your face, your makeup streaming down your cheeks. He lets you blubber and sob, silent as he strokes your hair and back. Once your tears have stopped, he scoops you into his arms and cuddles you, large hands rubbing in soothing circles.

Little do you know, the same man who is scooping you up into his arms to take you to bed is the same man who has stalked your last five date prospects and warned them away. The same man who lays you out on his bed and worships your body is the one who released Ghost, Gaz, and Soap on some poor sod in town who looked at you the wrong way.

And when you're cuddled in his arms, sweaty from your copious lovemaking, he whispers something in your ear. And when you don't pull away, but instead snuggle closer, he knows that he's won.

[kingofbodyrolls]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why can't you do better?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She's fuming, but you don’t care. 

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

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

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

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

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

Damn it. 

This wasn't the outcome you anticipated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[youngroyals-events]

Wille's Month, Prompts List and Instructions

Guess what? The Young Royals finale aired a month ago today, but the party isn't over since the prompt list is here! Thank you all for your interest in this event and for all the prompts you've sent!

The goal of this event is to encourage people to create with Wille, our birthday boy, as the main focus.

To participate, it’s pretty simple. There is a prompt for each day of the month of May. Create something out of that prompt and post it on the according day. Prompts can be merged together and you can post days later, we only ask to not post ahead of schedule. We will reblog your posts during the whole duration of the event, so from May 1st to May 31st.

We accept all sorts of things! Fanfictions, fanart, drabbles, gif sets, edits, headcanons, moodboards, analysis, anything! You can also include a wip, new or old, if it fits!

You can also post to the AO3 collection.

Guidelines:

Use the tag #willemonth2024 when posting and tag us in the post (@youngroyals-events);

Indicate which prompt you are using;

Indicate any warnings if there are any;

Adult content is accepted but should be properly tagged (we will use #nsfw when reblogging);

Post on the day of the prompt or after, not before;

Other characters can be included, but Wille should be the main focus.

If there are any questions regarding the guidelines or on how to participate, feel free to send us an ask!

And here's the prompt lists!

Sandwich

Summer

Literature

Revolution

Cooking/Baking

Video Games

Erik

Wedding/Engagement

Riding

Secret

Future

Social media

Lake

Mental Health

Fashion/Style

Friends

Joy

Soulmates

Frogs

Movie

Family

Party

Freedom

Vacation/Holiday

Hands

Date

Dream

Birthday

Music

Fantasy/Fairytale

Free Day

(Free Day here means there is no prompt for that day, just create whatever you want.)

We hope you’ll enjoy this event!