#i want to write the cowboy like me au too so. there's a lot. going on in my brain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

asterias-record-shop · 9 months

Note

Hello! I don’t know if this space has already been requested, but could I please request #18 with the Cowboy Space with Ethan Landry from Scream VI? For the overview is that Chad basically convinces Ethan to dress up like a shirtless cowboy like him to show off his muscles to impress the girl Ethan has been crushing/in love with.

The girl can be either friends with the Woodsboro group or just a random girl from one of Ethan’s classes. But the girl has also been crushing on Ethan.

Thank you so much for doing the bingo! I love your writing!

—𓆩[save a horse, ride a cowboy]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Ethan Landry x Fem! Crush! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.8K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - NON GHOSTFACE AU Ethan had been crushing on you since the first day of college. Now, three years in and finally getting the courage thanks to his best friend Chad, he dresses up for the Halloween party as something much more… suggestive. He truly didn’t expect you to show up in an exposed Halloween outfit dressed up as a classic horror character, ready to tease him all night long.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - again, NON GHOSTFACE AU!!! || porn with a plot || but the ghostface character still exists yk || aged up some more, again like 3 years into college || partying || body shots || drinking alcohol (legally, mostly) || mentions of drugs || intoxicated sex but fully consensual || slight gxg relations with reader ig? (tara) || party is set in like a bigger area if that makes sense? || tara and chad are already together || altered timeline slightly? || Ethan and Chad are actually best friends because again, not in like the movie’s universe? || the entire group are actually really good friends (Sam, Tara, Chad, Mindy, Anika – i didn't include Quinn) || everyone’s more lighthearted cuz no trauma || you have a high alcohol tolerance now || kind of public sex || moved to sex in another person’s bathroom || blowjob || self fingering || then moving to a random room || unprotected sex || riding || cumming inside || slight tit worship || mentions of smoking ||

Ethan didn’t think he could go through with this. He stared at himself in the mirror, and though he didn’t dislike what he was seeing, he just didn’t know if he was comfortable.

“Heyo, E, what’s taking so long? We gotta see you!” Chad knocked on the door as Ethan fixed the ascot looking thing around his neck and the cowboy hat he accidentally spent way too much money on. "Ethan, come out here and show us!”

Ethan groaned as he walked out, Chad whistling as he sat next to Tara with his arm around her shoulders. “Look at you! Looking great, Ethan! You’re a lot more muscular than I thought.”

He ignored Chad’s words as Anika giggled slightly, making him look at her. “What’s so funny?”

“You look like you’re about to go into a porno,” she laughed, making Mindy giggle. “A really, really weird porno, but a good one!”

Her words make Ethan groan, pointing at Chad. “He’s wearing the same thing! For fucks sake, I feel like I look so fucking stupid-”

Chad quickly shakes his head. “Come on man, you look great!”

Tara giggled slightly, everyone looking at her. “What’s so funny?” Ethan said again, crossing his arms which made his biceps bulge.

“Texting Y/N,” she said, smiling. “She’s going as Ghostface. A slutty Ghostface, and I told her you’re going as a shirtless cowboy, so you kind of have to wear that now.”

Ethan groaned, face palming. “Promise I don’t look stupid?”

“You look amazing, dude!” Chad.

“You look fucking stupid.” Sam.

“Just don’t star in a porno!” Anika.

“Can we go already? We’re going to be late.” Mindy.

“Yeah, Y/N’s already there, she’s doing body shots. I wanna do body shots with her, it sounds fun!” Tara.

Only Tara’s words stuck with him, because just like her, he really wanted to do body shots with you. Normally, you were part of this mini gang that they had, but you had gone with your two best friends that you had known since high school, especially because it was a frat party.

It wasn’t long until everyone left, leaving the dorms with Ethan and Chad shirtless as they walked to the frat party. “She’s not gonna think I’m weird, right?”

“Nah, man! She’s gonna think you’re hot, coke on! Besides, slutty Ghostface? It pairs up great,” Chad said, shrugging as he held Tara close. “You’re gonna take body shots with Y/N, right?”

“I’m gonna try.”

“Oh definitely!”

Ethan and Tara both spoke at the same time, Tara clapping her hands. “Hell yeah! Ethan’s getting bold, whoop whoop! I go first though.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m still deciding if I’m even gonna go.”

“You better go!” Tara said, nodding. “I have a bet y’all are going to fuck tonight! Don’t make me lose!”

When they got there, they immediately knew where you were since they could see you standing in front of the ping pong table playing beer pong. He smiled as you bit your lips, bouncing the small plastic ball and landing it perfectly on one of the cups, everyone yelling out as you jumped up with a cheer. “Whoo!”

“Y/N!” Tara yelled as she ran over, Chad slapping Ethan’s back.

“Go get her, man!”

Oh, but then he saw you.

You looked fucking perfect in the fishnet body suit that covered your entire body, a mere leather tube top and a leather mini skirt covering your more intimate parts. He could barely talk as you spoke with Tara, laughing and giggling before you grabbed a die.

“Here, I’ll finish this game, and then we can start body shots again!” You smiled, giggling as you jumped up and down slightly. “Oh, Chad, Ethan! Hey guys!”

He smiled slightly, waving as he walked over. “Hey… Hey, you look so nice.”

You giggle, looking down at your outfit. “I tried! Do you think it pulled together well?”

“Uhm… so, so well,” Ethan smiled as you giggled. “You look amazing.”

“Oh, thank you!” You giggled, shaking your head. “So… wanna do some body shots?”

Ethan blushed as Tara nodded vigorously behind you, the words coming out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Let’s do some shots?”

It wasn’t until it was actually about to happen did Ethan regret wanting to do shots.

There was dice, terrifying dice that you both had to roll to see where you had to take the shot off the other person’s body. Tara had gotten your tits and you had gotten her stomach, so here you were, bending over the ping pong table as Tara lifted her hips and you tilt your head back and you grabbed the shot with your teeth and tilt your head back, easily swallowing the liquor with your hands pushing up.

Everyone cheered as you grabbed the shot glass, pointing at Ethan. “You’re turn, cowboy!”

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

You laughed as you walked forward and grabbed his hand, dragging him to the ping pong table and putting both dice in his hand and giggling. “Roll for me?” He swallowed, nodding slightly as you hold his wrist, everyone letting out loud wolf whistles as you tilted your head up at him. “Want me to blow on them for you?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“He wants you to blow on a lot more than that, Y/N!” Anika yelled out, laughing as you giggled.

“Roll ‘em.”

Ethan rolled the dice, unable to see what they landed on before Tara cheered. “Crotch and same as partner!”

You giggled, taking the shots that Tara had given to you. “You’re going to take your first shot of the night.”

He basically gulped as you gave him both shots, laying back against the ping pong table and fixing your skirt. You take the shot, carefully setting the shot on your skirt and lifting your hips with your legs spread. “What are you waiting for?”

Everyone started shouting out ‘Shots!’ as Ethan tried to avoid getting between your legs until you roll your eyes, pulling him between your legs to where the shot was. “Y-You’re sure this is okay?”

“Of course,” you twirl one of his curls around your finger, smiling. “Get to it.”

He’s careful as he looked down, slowly wrapping his lips around the shots before you thrust your hips up and he tilted his head back, swallowing it easily. You giggle as he threw his head back, giggling. “Ethan took the shot!”

Everyone cheered as you sat up, Ethan’s face right in front of yours before you grabbed his ascot like thing. “My turn.”

Ethan quickly switched with you, watching as you got between his legs and patted his thighs. “Can I unzip your pants?”

Everyone whistled again as Ethan nods nervously, watching you unzip his jeans and slide the shot over the bulge of his cock that was slowly getting bigger, even though he hoped you didn't see it. He watched as you hummed, watching as Tara stepped forward and gave Ethan the lime wedge. “Put it in your mouth.”

“Wh-What-?” He basically choked as she stuffed it in his mouth, the rind facing the back of his throat before she poured out some salt on his hip bone.

You giggle as you lean forward and down, your ass up as you licked his hip, taking all of the salt before moving to the shot on his dick, his hips bucking automatically into your mouth making you gag slightly before throwing your head back and swallowing the shot. It wasn’t until you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, taking the lime from his mouth and biting into the flesh before taking it out of your mouth and kissing him firmly.

He can taste the pods of the sour lime and bitter tequila, grains of salt still on your tongue brushing against his as you sit in his lap. His hands go to your waist almost immediately, smiling against your lips as you giggle and laugh against his own.

Someone groaned as your hands “God dammit, get off the table!”

Ethan tried to pull back, eyes open as he was about to pull away and help you get off the table before you pulled him closer, not letting him pull back as you flipped your middle finger up in the direction of the voice. He could hear Chad yell something out as you hummed against his lips, your nose bumping against his as you tilted your head making Ethan laugh slightly, smiling as you pulled away, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth.

“We should go back to my apartment.”

Ethan rushes to nod as you quickly stand up, dragging him off the table and down the hall.

“Fuck yeah! Ethan’s gonna get laid!” Chad.

Ethan blushed madly as you laughed, walking backwards to pull him into the entrance hall and press your back against the wall before flipping you both for Ethan to be pressed against the wall instead. “Are you a virgin?”

He swallowed, his mouth dry as he shook his head, then nodded. A quickie with some random girl where he didn’t cum didn’t count, right?

You laughed, shaking your head as you started to rub against his chiseled abdomen. “Well? What is it, yes or no? If you are, I can make this special and we can go back to my apartment quickly. If not, then you’ve had a quickie, right?”

Ethan nodded his head quickly, swallowing as you rubbed against his crotch area. “Y-Yeah, I have.”

“Do you mind if I suck your dick here?” You asked it as though you were asking to take a lollipop from a doctor’s office, your eyes shining with lust as your nails trail over the v that led down. “A quick blowjob, then we can fuck at my apartment.”

Ethan gasped as someone walked past, but of course, you didn't seem to care as you kissed against the bulge. “D-Don’t you think we should go somewhere more private?”

You paused, looking up at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“Y-You… Why don’t we go somewhere where no one can see how good you feel?” He tilted his head down at you, a giggle falling from your lips as you stood.

“Okay,” you dragged him farther down the hall into an actually clean bathroom that he didn’t expect to be as clean as it was before you kneeled down on the rug. “So, can I suck your dick now?”

He laughed, shaking his head slightly. “Y-You’re sure you want to do this?”

“That I want to suck your dick?” You rubbed your nose against the zipper, tilting your head slightly. “Is that okay?”

“Y-Yeah, you can… you can suck m-my dick-” Ethan let out a loud groan as you finished unzipping his pants and pulled out his perfect cock, his length practically dripping with precum and the veins on the underside already bulging. “Fuck, darling, you’re that greedy?”

You hummed as you nodded, wrapping your lips around his tip carefully before your other hand started to push down your exposed stomach and under your skirt. He watched your hand slowly swipe up and down your cunt, rolling your clit between your fingers and pumping his cock at the same time.

He stared at you, groaning as you pumped and gagged on his cock, pulling away to spit on his tip and pump the saliva up to his base. You hummed, staring up at him as you continued to pump his shaft, pulling his cock down your throat and gagging on it. He threw his head back, groaning as he tried to hold back the thrusts of his hips, but for fucks sake your mouth felt so good around his cock and your hand pumping the area that you couldn’t fit in your mouth with your fist as you groaned.

“F-Fuck, cowgirl,” he groaned loudly, head tilted back as you pulled away to giggle, humming as you move your head to the side and lick up the side of his pretty cock. “You suck my cock so perfectly, cowgirl,” he grinned as you pulled away, groaning loudly. He finally noticed your hand as you fingered yourself, hips rutting forward into your hand. “Doing so good.”

You giggled, groaning as you rode your hand and continued to spit on his cock, getting his shaft all wet as you wiped the spit from your chin with the back of your forearm. You hummed as you tilted your head up at him. “Want you to use my mouth,” you whisper, pulling his cock down your throat for a few seconds before gasping as you pull away. “Use my mouth like I’m a little whore, and make cum and spit run down my chin like those pornos, that way I have both of my hands to get off. Fingering myself as you use my throat.”

“I-I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered as you both slowly turned around, Ethan watching as you leaned back against the cabinets and wiped your mouth with your other hand before pushing them both between your legs.

“You won’t hurt me,” you whisper, shaking your head as you groan loudly, your hands quickening against your cunt. “Fuck my mouth. Please, need you to use my mouth.”

Ethan groaned as you lifted your mouth up to lick carefully against his balls, Ethan taking his cock and softly pumping his length. “You sure?”

“Mhm,” you hum an agreement, sighing as you bumped your nose against his tip. “Want to feel it.”

Slowly, he pushed his cock into your mouth, groaning as you leaned forward, his eyes quickly flickering down to your hands in a place that he couldn’t see, rubbing vigorously as you bob your head up and down his shaft. Your eyes rolled back as you relax your jaw, doing the same to your throat as Ethan reached down and held the sides of your head.

Just like you said, he couldn’t stop himself, using your mouth and thrusting down your throat with a groan. “Come on, cowgirl, you’re doing so good… so so good, cowgirl, your throat is fucking perfect.”

You groaned, nodding around his cock as you continued to rut into your hands, your throat perfect and warm around his shaft as he shallowly thrusted down your throat. He let out a loud groan before someone opened the door, his hand quickly going to close it. “Got dammit, busy!”

You giggled as you wiped your throat, leaving the globs of cum and spit on your chin. “Love my throat that much, don’t you?”

“I love you that much,” he whispers, staring at his bright red cock and your hands quickening once again. “I love you so much.”

Your stomach was tight and twisting, the feeling of a hard orgasm settling in your stomach as you moved one of your hands to rub your clit between your thumb and middle finger. You groaned around his cock, bobbing your head even harder around his cock, his hips rutting faster and rougher. You gagged around his cock, the fingers inside of you thrusting faster as you felt drool and cum run down your chin. To be honest, you didn’t register him cumming the first time, and to be honest, neither did he besides the tightness of his stomach.

It was probably when the person almost walked in, because for fucks sake did that turn him on.

Oh, but his stomach was twisting just like yours, tightening as he groaned, the sight of your eyes crossing as they rolled back and mixed globs of cum and saliva ran down your chin.

You groaned loudly as he thrusted his hips forward, groaning loudly as he cradled the back of your head so it wouldn’t hit the counter as his hips started to stutter. If you could have smiled, you would have, even as he softly stroked your hair and you could taste the hot ropes of his salty cum.

You hummed in pleasure as your stomach finally clenched and you came, your hands pushing around his slightly soft cock, pumping him with your cum covered hands as you kissed his tip before swallowing. It makes him gasp as you stand, wiping your mouth and licking your fingers as he stares at the white dripping down your fishnets. “You wish this was your cum, don’t you cowboy?”

“I do,” he whispers, softly grabbing your chin and pulling you in for a firm kiss. “I do… I wish it was my cum dripping down your thighs right now.”

“It can be,” you whisper back, pulling him down for a firm kiss. “There’s a room down the hall no one knows about. We could go there, that way we don’t waste time going to my apartment.”

He smiled slightly, bumping his nose to yours. “How do you know about it then?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “I know because I was able to finish a blunt there without no one interrupting me.”

He shook his head with a laugh as you slowly pushed him back. “Well, lead the way.”

You turned around as you pulled him down the hall, urgently pulling him down for more kisses, desperately wanting his lips on your own. Your lips were still slightly salty as his tongue dragged along your lips, his hands holding your cheeks delicately before you reached up and took his black hat, putting it on your head with a giggle. “Save a horse,”

“Ride a cowboy.”

You both laughed as you kept the hat on, his hands pushing down between your thighs and undoing the zipper down the center all while your hand searched for the doorknob. He laughed as he held your skirt in hand and you finally open the door, his hands doing the same to your top with the zipper in the back and putting it in the same hand together as you quickly got the door open and he pushed you back.

Ethan smiled as he kicked the door closed, kicking off his boots and his jeans before laying back on the bed and watching you slowly crawl above him. “I want to ride you,” you whisper, already pumping his cock as he reaches down and finishes ripping a slit on the fishnet stockings. “Please?”

He groaned as you forced his cock up, the already hard length needing little to no help to stay up straight as you forced yourself up by your knees. “Why are you always asking, cowgirl? For fucks sake, just do what you want to me, I’ll never complain if it’s you.”

You giggle as you finally push his tip into you, throwing your head back with a loud groan. You truly didn’t expect his cock, especially his pretty tip, to be this fucking big. Slowly, you sink down onto his length, watching his face pinch up as he groans loudly and holds your hips tightly.

Ethan let out a loud groan as you started to roll your hips, your clit rubbing against his pelvis as you leaned onto his chest for support, leaning down before he shook his head. “W-Wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Wanna see your tits.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, pausing the movements of your hips before leaning down and stealing a quick kiss as you held his face. “You are so a virgin.”

He laughed as his hands moved up your sides, groaning as his hands go from your sides to your poorly covered tits, thumbs swiping over your hard nipples that were poking through one of the holes of the fishnets, his thumb easily pushing inside of the holes before ripping the fabric. You gasped, the sight turning you on more than it should’ve before his hands grope and cup your tits.

The added stimulation made your stomach clench as you desperately alternated between bouncing on his cock to rolling your hips, desperate to hit that perfect spot inside of you. You were whining and letting out broken moans above him, every sporadic, unhinged and unexpected thrusts of his hips making you scream out and fly forward, a groan falling from his lips.

“Come on cowgirl,” he whispers, a grin on his face as his hand swipes over your nipple again. “You’re doing so good, cum on my cock.”

You nodded, mind blurred as you tilted your head back, pushing your hips forward before lifting yourself slightly to feel his cock slide in and out of you.

Ethan groaned loudly as your walls fluttered and clenched around his cock, your nails digging into his chest as your eyes rolled back and your thrusts got rougher, a scream of his name falling from your lips before your cunt clenched around his cock and you were about to fall forward before he caught you.

He let out a loud moan as he carefully laid you against his chest, rolling his hips into yours to cum and ride out his high inside of you, stroking your back as you pant above him. “You did so good, cowgirl.”

You hummed, nodding into his neck as you softly rubbed up and down his chest, the hat on your head bumping into his nose as he tried to kiss your head. “You don’t think we’re done yet, do you cowboy? You gotta see your cowgirl ride you backwards.”

Ethan groaned as you sat back up, fixing the hat on your head as he choked. “Now, what kind of cowboy would I be if I didn’t?”

And this... was the last post for our bingo event. I HAD SO MUCH FUN!!! OMG, I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED IT!!! MY REQUESTS ARE AGAIN CLOSED, BUT THEY WILL BE OPEN SOON WITH MORE PROMPTS FOR MY NEXT EVENT. I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH, THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT!

Bingo tag 𓆩[@ennycutie]𓆪 𓆩[@yoongiwife23]𓆪 𓆩[@urlocalbum12-blog]𓆪 𓆩[@theonetheonly-mee]𓆪

Taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪 𓆩[@xyzstar]𓆪 𓆩[@just-my-shit]𓆪 𓆩[@your-mom21]𓆪 𓆩[@c78r]𓆪 𓆩[@dizscreams]𓆪 𓆩[@asrt5]𓆪 𓆩[@xoxomoonlightbabe]𓆪 𓆩[@wenvierismycomfort]𓆪 𓆩[@copypastedaphne]𓆪 𓆩[@f-aggotry]𓆪 𓆩[@ineedmentalhelp123]𓆪 𓆩[@aerangi]𓆪

#asterias-record-shop #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #scream #scream fanfic #scream six #scream vi #scream movies #ethan landry scream #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x fem!reader smut

680 notes · View notes

ghouljams · 6 months

Note

Friend, I found the funniest writing prompt on Pinterest and immediately thought about your cowboy!AU. I know you have a lot of asks, but I couldn’t just let the opportunity to share it with you slip between my little fingers.

« I never thought my day would start with a goat, but… Here I am. With a motherfucking goat. »

For some reason, I can picture Ghost saying this, with a very deadpan look and tone of voice. If it took place in the past cowboy!au, where he is quite obviously enamoured with Goose but also still quite clumsy around her, it would probably be even funnier ?

Or Bee. Who doesn’t really know how to handle the farm life, but is still trying. With König looking at the goat in her arms like - « well, time to go get some wooden planks then. »

I can’t stop cackling at those scenarios I’ve got in mind. I hope they will make you laugh too x)

1870's!Ghost my beloved. He's so off his game with Goose despite being head over heels for her.

"You know when you said you had a surprise for me this isn't what I had in mind," Ghost tells you, holding the new born kid in his arms close to his chest. Both his muscular arms hold the little goat as it bleats, the poor kid looking so much smaller when held by such a giant of a man.

"You know this isn't exactly my version of a perfect morning," You tell him, soothing the new mother goat. You think she's got another one in her, which makes you a little nervous for her. You like this goat, be a shame to lose her.

"Never thought I'd be starting my day with a goat," Ghost gripes.

"What did you think? That I was bringing you out to the barn to take my fuckin-" You glance over your shoulder at him, the sharp heat in his eyes when he looks at you, "Oh my god you thought I wanted to fuck you in the barn!"

"Did not," He insists. You scoff, and turn your attention back to the goat.

"You think the barn is a good spot to take a lady's virtue?" You call over your shoulder.

"Course not," Ghost's voice is rough, even, he's stating a fact, "unless the lady asked."

"I'm not askin'," You throw back in annoyance. This isn't exactly how you wanted to start your morning either.

"Don't wanna fuck ya in the barn," Ghost grumbles, his voice low enough you could almost ignore it. You don't. You glare over your shoulder at him, he glares back. He's lucky you're sweet on him or you'd make him sleep in the barn. Damn pretty boy.

"You wanna wait 'til we're married like a gentleman, right?" You snap at him.

"Gonna marry you anyway, what's the point waitin'," He snaps back.

"What?" You frown, not expecting him to agree with you. Simon holds your gaze firm, still glaring. You blink, trying to come up with something to say back that isn't "I didn't know you wanted to marry me" or something similar. But you also... didn't know he wanted to marry you, you'd meant it as a joke.

You feel another contraction as you pet you're goat's stomach and transfer your attention back to her. Maybe if you keep your focus on your work you won't be able to feel Simon's eyes staring holes through you. Patiently impatient.

He's going to marry you, just you fucking wait.

282 notes · View notes

imagining-in-the-margins · 5 months

Text

New Beginnings CM Challenge 🌱

The following are prompts involving a new relationship, fresh start, etc.!

This event is over (Masterlist of Fics here), but you are welcome to use any of these prompts. If you would like to be added to the existing Masterlist of entries, please check out the Rules below!

🌧 Prompts 🌱

Describe Character's first day at the BAU

Character celebrates a milestone of sobriety

Characters are getting the hang of being new parents

Character goes overboard with New Year’s Resolutions

Character decides to try something new in the bedroom

Character is entering the dating scene after their divorce

Character changes career paths with a very different job

Character introduces their new partner to their kid

Character comes out as trans and introduces themselves

Character finally agrees to get set up with a date after a long dry spell

Character learns to navigate their everyday life after a traumatic event

Character escapes an abusive relationship and the recovery is harder than they thought

Character swears that this year they will definitely fulfill all their New Year's resolutions

Character just came out as LGB and goes on their first date with someone of the same sex

Character decides to cut off a member(s) of their family, and the team reminds them that they still have a whole lot of (found) family left

Character lost a partner and swore they would never love like that again... but that hasn't stopped them from falling in love in a different way

Character got a pet for the first time and they realize how much easier it is to take care of themselves when someone else is counting on them

Character had previously come out as something, but then realized they were something else... coming out is even more daunting the second time

More prompts below + Make your own!

🌤 Dialogue Prompts🌻

"The time will pass anyway." (Earl Nightingale)

"If you jump, I jump with you."

"I can't wait to see who you become."

"I love every possible iteration of you."

"To be brave, you must first be afraid." (Bear Grylls)

"You aren't alone in this. None of us are." (Baldur's Gate 3)

"Is it too late to go back?" "Don't you dare."

"This is all new to me." "What?" "Being happy."

"I don't know what I'm doing." "No one does. That's life."

"There are always a million reasons not to do something." (The Office)

🌒Character Specific Prompts🌲

Spencer's life after prison is nothing like before

Spencer decides to pursue his dream of being a cowboy/rancher

Spencer becomes dedicated to turning his life around after relapsing

Spencer doesn't think about Maeve on a special occasion for the first time

Hotch finally stops wearing his old wedding ring

Hotch embraces his role as a single dad

JJ's children are almost grown, and she struggles to reconnect with who she was before she was their mother

Penelope realizes she doesn’t like the person she’s become after leaving the BAU, so she decides to change

Lauren Reynolds died—it’s time Emily start acting like it

Rossi struggles with suddenly becoming a (grand)father

🍂Rules🍃

The fic can be a Reader insert, an Original Character, a character/character ship, a platonic ship, or a Gen fic. It can feature any Criminal Minds character. AUs and crossovers are more than welcome.

Tag me in the fic, or send the link to me in a Direct Message. It can be already written, or you can write it for the challenge - I’m collecting both! You can also tag it “#mentioningmargins” which is a tag I track.

The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I DO NOT WANT smut written by minors. Ever. At all. I will check. Platonic ships and pure, fluffy fics are 100% allowed.

Please include Content Warnings and a one-sentence Summary of the fic in your post.

Have fun!

The Masterlist of fics will be posted around March 1. If you finish after that, no problem - just send me the fic once you’re done and I’ll add it after-the-fact!

Feel free to message me if you want help developing a plot, have any questions, or just want to gush about your fic. I’m happy to help, and I’m happy you’re here ❤️

Happy Writing!

#cm writing challenge #cm challenge #cm writing prompts #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction

204 notes · View notes

topherwrites · 5 months

Text

FIC RECS: OUTER RANGE, OUTER BANKS, STRANGER THINGS

If I made a little comment about every single fic or series here, it would be inhumanely long, so I've refrained from doing so and have just put the summaries for each. This is split into two parts, TGM fics and everything else.

I hope that anyone who reads this list finds something that they love on it just as much as I do! If I missed you, I'm sorry, there was a lot to sort through!

SOME OF THESE ARE 18+, PLEASE HEED THE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS!

RHETT ABBOTT

Yellow Soul by @creatchie8

Trapped in a relationship with your high school sweetheart Perry is like a never ending nightmare of always stepping on eggshells. One winter break changes everything as you are reintroduced to his younger brother, Rhett. Looking for an escape, Rhett provides the perfect shelter you crave.

right where i want you by @sushiwriterhere

Standing there, staring at the cotton balls in the trash, some part deep inside of you decides that it’s now or never with Rhett.

Odds are Stacked by @sunlightmurdock

In which Rhett loses a bet and you lose your virginity.

Wayfaring Stranger by @/sunlightmurdock

Betrayal sends Rhett veering further West, searching for answers and searching for himself. Instead, he finds you.

Much Love by @southpawbitch

you & rhett have found yourselves in a little fwb situation despite the fact that you have a fiancé.

About Last Night by @delopsia

A self-indulgent take on Rhett's best friend coming back to Wabang and surprising him after his final rodeo.

Dancing Beneath the Moon by @/delopsia

How is it that your heart only longs for the ghost of a cowboy? And why do you get the feeling that his heart utters the same for you?

Closing Time by @youvebeenlivingfictional

“You’re having a helluva night, huh,” You comment. “S’that supposed to mean?” “You got a shit bull, then you struck out with that girl…And you failed to bait Luke Tillerson into trying to kick your ass.”

RAFE CAMERON

Untouchable by @boneblushed

It is crucial that the head boy and girl of Kildare Academy work together. Too bad the head girl is you and the head boy is Rafe Cameron.

Glitch by @/boneblushed

Rafe has a bad fall on the ski slopes. A temporary amnesiac, he falls in love with you all over again.

So Gorgeous It Actually Hurts by @/folkloreslovechild (deactivated)

childhood enemies to lovers, the slowest of burns, an unbearable amount of pining, both parties in heavy denial for like 90% of the fic, Rafe’s a total douchebag but he can’t help it (you’re gorgeous).

Euro Trip by @/folkloreslovechild (deactivated)

europe summer trip au!

new light by @outerbankies

you come home from college to spend your last summer before senior year in your hometown of the outer banks. an old friend hits you up wanting something more, and you begin to see what’s really been there all along.

You Belong With Me by @forevermoreharrington

Rafe’s fallen helplessly for his dream girl but she just doesn't see it yet.

tis the damn season by @atlabeth

When your roommate Rafe lies to his family that the two of you are dating, you agree to go home with him for the holidays to help sell it as his fake girlfriend after a generous bribe. It's just three weeks in the Outer Banks with one of your best friends -- what could go wrong?

Armour by @probably-writing-x

Having your heart broken was one thing. But Rafe watching somebody break your heart? That was something nobody could prepare for.

So We Won't Forget by @netegf

you meet rafe cameron at a grief support group while he struggles with the loss of his father. he's trying to be a better man, and you can't help but love him for it.

Hate It When You Leave by @/netegf

you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. He's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want… including him.

I Know I Am by @bookofbonbon

For Rafe, it's always been you. He's just waiting for you to realise it too.

STEVE HARRINGTON

redamancy by @sanguineterrain

redamancy (n.) - the act of loving someone who loves you back; a love returned in full // or, four times you kissed Steve Harrington, and one time he finally kissed you back.

dancing with our hands tied part i | part ii by @taintedcigs

in which steve is in love with his best friend's ex.

EDDIE MUNSON

Pearl by @cacoetheswriting

a story about two kids trying to navigate through love and loss, inevitable goodbyes, various reunions, friendships and hardships, joy, heartbreak, plus surviving the upside down - all to the sound of Janis Joplin's Pearl.

#rhett abbott x reader #rafe cameron x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #rafe cameron #eddie munson #rhett abbott #steve harrington #fic rec list #fic rec

167 notes · View notes

itneverendshere · 1 year

Text

cowboy casanova - rafe cameron AU (one shot)

part ii.

synopsis: no real plot line just me thinking about cowboy!rafe while listening to cowboy casanova lmao...might write a part 2...idk; thought my rafe phase couldn't get worse..but it's WORSAA than ever, drew got me on a leash jesus; anyway enjoy

warnings: cowboy!Rafe Cameron; no smut per se yET; kissing; a LOT of pet names;

word count: 1.648k

You’re smarter than this.

At least, you thought you were. Until Rafe Cameron managed to get his hands on you, and now he’s all you can think about.

He stands a few feet away, back leaning against the passenger's side door of his truck. His arms are crossed over his chest, biceps straining, against the sleeves of his white t-shirt.

Holy fuck.

Had it been his usual tank top and you'd be on your knees the second you saw him.

Instantly, his gaze turns towards you, indiscreetly sweeping down your body. He tips his hat in greeting, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his eyes are wandering as if he isn’t practically undressing you in his mind.

“Missed your face, darlin’.”

His eyes linger on your lips as your tongue traces its outline. The intensity in his gaze deepens, a dark heat simmering behind his blue irises. The air between you becomes charged with palpable tension as if a silent understanding passes between you.

“Can’t say the same thing, Casanova.”

He thinks it’s real fucking cute when you act like you don’t care about him.

“Breaking m’heart,” Rafe's smirk widens, and he takes another step closer, closing the distance between you. One of his hands finds home in your waist, wrapping his warm and calloused fingers around the skin, the contact sending a jolt of awareness down your spine.

His presence seems to envelop you, and his voice drops to a low, gravelly tone, “Be nice.”

It’s entirely too hard to focus when he’s this close and all you can do is remember the last time you saw him.

Last time, you didn’t expect things to get heavy so easily, but you couldn’t complain when you were pressed too snugly against him on the back of his truck, with your dress off and one of his hands, the same one he’s touching you with now, hooked under your ass.

You clear your throat, slowly becoming yourself again, “What are you doing here?”

His index finger is hooked under your chin, “Already told ya sugar.”

“And I know you better than that,” You flick the brim of his hat with your finger, “Spill, cowboy.”

A few tendrils of dark blonde hair slip loose over his forehead, and you fight every goddamn sinful thought in your mind. Like, how you had a fistful of his hair in your hand while you sat on his face.

Every time he turns those burning eyes on you, you feel something tighten deep within you.

“Missed ya’, that’s all.”

His words give you a surge of stupid confidence roll, and you reach up, plucking his hat off his head before plopping it down on your own. His lips slowly slid into a sly grin as you tilt your head back slightly.

Rafe thinks it’s so cute when you get all red and flustered by his frame pressing against yours. His knuckles brush against your jawline, his grin melting into the sweetest smile.

“And you wonder why I can’t get enough.”

A breath hitches in your throat, your lips parting in surprise. As much as you want to pull that beautiful mouth against yours, there’s a lot more to you two than meets the eye. You’re not supposed to do this…feelings were strictly prohibited the moment you started sleeping around with the Rafe Cameron.

You know better than that.

“Don’t go all soft on me now, Cameron.”

He brushes a kiss on your cheek, and it takes every ounce of self-control to hold yourself back.

Rafe’s breath is ghosting over your neck when he leans over and asks if you’re doing all right. He knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you, and you hate it.

“Lookin’ real pretty today sugar.”

“You think so?”

You want to argue back and call him out on his bullshit, but you don’t. You’d been working an eight-hour shift at the bar and after putting up with disgusting men all night, it feels nice to have someone call you pretty instead of a nice piece of ass.

His tongue darts out, sweeping over his bottom lip and your eyes track the movement like it’s the most mesmerizing thing you’ve seen in your life.

His lips stretch into a smug, satisfied grin, “Want me to prove it?”

“You wish.”

So maybe you’re also a terrible liar and your body likes to speak for itself.

Rafe’s lips roll between his teeth as he fails to stifle a grin, “Is that why you all pressed up against me, sugar?

He loves the way you pretend to be surprised when he calls you out on your bullshit.

Especially loves the way you always whine out that you really shouldn’t do this again when he got you in his bed, lips swollen from his kisses, and chest heaving.

“You’re the one pressed up against me.”

“Yeah?” His hands glided with gentle precision up your arms, their touch leaving a tantalizing trail of goosebumps in their wake. The roughened calluses on his palms make delicate contact with your skin, further heightening the electrifying sensation.

As his hands continue their exploration, they caress over your shoulders, exerting just the right amount of pressure to melt away any tension, as he moves over your shoulders and cups the side of your neck.

You’re still marked up from the last time he had his mouth on you and it makes his chest swell with pride.

“Yeah.”

“Too bad, ‘cause I have no intentions of letting go, darlin’.”

Your hands fist the sides of his shirt, trying to give yourself something to keep you tethered to reality, “Cameron.”

“Got you right where I wanted ya.”

“Acting like you ain’t got a string of women pining after you.”

You try so valiantly to keep your voice from warbling, but as he kisses down the column of your neck you can’t help the sigh that slips through your open lips.

“Only want one,” Rafe tuts against your collarbone. You screw your brows together and open your eyes to look down at him as he pauses his administration to get your attention, “She’s right here.”

Your mouth drops open a little wider as his words work their way through your mind.

You find yourself momentarily speechless, unsure of how to respond to his unexpected declaration. His statement carries a weight that you hadn't anticipated, and it takes a moment for it to fully sink in.

As you gaze down at him, your eyes meet his, searching for any hint of jest or insincerity. However, what you find in his gaze is a genuine sincerity and affection that leaves you breathless.

A mix of emotions swirls within you—shock, disbelief, and a glimmer of hope. Part of you wants to question his words, to delve deeper into his intentions and understand the magnitude of what he's saying. But another part of you simply wants to savor the tenderness of the moment, to bask in the vulnerability and the possibility of something more.

You feel his lips press against your collarbone again, his touch both comforting and electrifying. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but let out a soft sigh. The sound escapes your lips, betraying the longing and desire that are now coursing through your veins.

“You mean that, cowboy?”

“Got my hat on ya, don't I?”

You don’t wait another second, before grabbing the collar of his shirt and tugging him down to meet you as you rise on your toes. His lips are just as hot as his hands as they meet yours tentatively as if he’d never kissed you before. Your hand slides behind his neck, using it as an anchor to keep your knees from buckling.

Then, in one swift motion, his hand slides below your ass and hoists you up on his lap, pushing your back against the truck. You realize he’s holding your entire body weight with just one arm, and it almost makes you cum on the spot. You can feel yourself growing wetter at the idea of his strength.

So maybe you like it when Rafe Cameron manhandles you…who wouldn’t.

Breaking off for air, you rest your forehead against his, eyes closed, “Showoff.”

He grunts against your lips, “Only for you, sugar.”

You groan, pulling him back to your lips. He chuckles against them but stops as your fingers delve into his hair. Rafe pulls you closer, so your core is pressed up against his, and you squirm at the feeling of him slowly grinding into you.

His fingers brush against the bare skin of your waist where your shirt has ridden up, sending a shiver through you. A whimper escaped as you part your lips and his tongue plunges inside.

He tastes exactly how you remember, whiskey and cigarettes. You hate smokers, and yet he still pulls it off. He smells like he's yours.

His right-hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head back to give him better access to your mouth as his tongue swiped greedily against yours.

Rafe pulls away, both of you panting to catch your breath, his forehead pressed against yours, “Not fuckin’ you against my truck, sugar.”

You’d let him fuck you anywhere at this point.

“Inside, then?” You rasp before you can give into temptation, “Need you.”

His forehead falls on your shoulder as he groans, “You can’t do that sugar.”

“Do what?”

He grips your wrist, dragging your hand down his body until your palm is pressed against his cock, “Killin me here.”

Rafe stifles a groan when your hand grips the hardness beneath his pants, “Inside, now, cowboy.”

“Fuck, baby—” He meets your gaze through hooded eyes, “Gonna ruin you, yeah?”

Your pussy clenches around nothing as you whimper, tangling your fingers through his hair, “Please.”

“Don’t gotta ask twice sweet girl.”

413 notes · View notes

staytinyville · 8 months

Text

OUTLAW (7)

ATEEZ ot8 X Reader

Cowboy AU / Wild West

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N Double update for the day because I didn't get to it yesterday. Chapter 8 will be posted later today (for me). I didn't get to writing a chapter and it bothers me when I don't have one ready on time. I like to have a few chapters written for just in case.

It was rather quick that your parents seemed to have hired the boys. They didn’t really question much of where they came from or why they were looking for work in your establishment. The only person they did question was you.

Why didn’t you say anything? How did you meet them? How long have you known them? Do they have someone waiting for them at home? That was from your mother.

You worked with Soenghwa for the most part. Yeosang was too busy in the backroom going over inventory and the money the hotel makes during the day. He also kept tabs of the guests list and their payments. Seonghwa worked at the bar in the saloon, occasionally making food the guests ordered. However with it being Friday, the bar was packed with people laughing and de-stressing from the week.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” Seonghwa’s fingers grazed your hand as you handed him some empty glasses that needed to be washed.

“You're welcome, Seonghwa.” You smiled. “Table three wants more whiskey.”

“Coming right up.” His dazzling grin made you blush, if only for the fact that he was a good looking man. He would make any woman flustered.

“You've been such a great help, boy!” Your father patted him on the back. “Weekends are usually packed with travelers or the townsfolk who claim we have the best drinks. You're really making us stand out!”

“You got yourself one hell of a looker!” A man at the bar praised Seonghwa. “All the women would be lining up to take a glimpse at your new hire, (F/N)!”

“Thank you.” Seonghwa bashfully told him.

The room went quiet for just a moment, some of the patrons had stopped talking to look towards the entrance of the bar. Yunho and Jongho both walked in, casually making their way over to the seats open at the bar.

“Officers.” The man who was complimenting Seonghwa greeted, tipping his glass.

The two men greeted the other back, moving to look over the available drinks. It was the first time they had ever gone down to the bar to sit and have a drink. You would assume it was because it was Seonghwa’s first day working there. Maybe they felt a bit more at ease with someone they knew.

“Say, do you guys know how long you're going to be here?” The man continued. “All the people are wondering why officers from the big city are snooping in our area.”

You paused your washing of cups, but quickly went back so as to not seem like you were eavesdropping. However, looking around the bar it seemed you weren’t the only one who was interested in the conversation.

Jongho and Yunho took a moment to look at each other before moving to take the glasses that Seonghwa had put in front of them. You realized that they didn’t even vocalize their preference of alcohol but no one else did. Seonghwa probably didn’t even realize he had given them something to drink subconsciously.

“There have been sightings of outlaws nearby.” You took a glance at Seonghwa. “We've been sent to investigate.”

Yunho answered the man. “With that being said, should you come across any wanted man. Please be sure to tell us. We have orders from the higher ups to catch them ourselves.” He turned to the rest of the bar, calling out to those who were watching him.

“What if we want the reward!?” Someone slurred from the crowd.

“You can have a try but just know you will be considered a criminal as well for obstructing the law.” Jongho shrugged, looking over the area.

No one dared to make another statement after that. However there was a lot of talk about the outlaws. People would whisper about how they needed to buy more ammunition for their weapons just in case these outlaws were to come into town. How they needed to keep their wives and daughters from going out so late in the night to prevent something terrible.

As the night progressed, the bar slowly grew to be less packed. However you would conclude that it was rather late at night when the bar dwindled down to cleaning up. The men were sure worried about their wives and daughters but they didn’t seem to mind if they left drunk at 3 in the morning. You would work around the two men who had passed out on their tables, knowing that your father would be the one to deal with them in the end.

Yeosang had come in earlier in the night to tell Seonghwa that he was leaving. You wanted to question where it was they were staying but you knew better. Curiosity kills the cat, you know the saying. In your case, you knew it would most definitely kill you.

The only people left in the bar, aside from the two men passed out drunk, were Seonghwa, Jongho, Yunho and you. Your father had gone to take the empty bottles out back, leaving you alone with the three men.

“You keep staring at the piano.” You told Seonghwa as you placed the last of the glasses where they went. “Do you play?”

“Not since I was a teen. It's been a while.” The man told you.

You moved things to the side, looking over at Seonghwa for a moment. “Could you play something?” You asked him, giving him a small smile. “I'd like to hear.”

You heard a snort come from Yunho and when you glanced at the two officers, you could see the large grins they were sporting. They looked at Seonghwa expectantly, just the tad bit tipsy from nursing their drinks for so long.

“Sure.” Seonghwa moved around the bar, making his way to the upright piano.

You and the boys moved to stand behind the man, watching as he seemed to look over the keys for a moment before touching the instrument. You had been so used to listening to your grandfather play such uptempo songs that it felt like something had been lifted off your shoulders the moment Seonghwa started playing.

It was some classical song, one that didn’t fit the theme of the bar. It soothed others to sleep and brought a light headed feeling. It made you smile, taking a seat to listen more carefully to the man playing. You felt the song wasn’t long enough when Seonghwa played the last of the notes.

“It's been a while since I've heard you play.” Yunho told his friend.

“It's been a while since we've heard any kind of music.” Jongho explained, taking the last sip of the beer he was holding.

“Wish the others were here.” Seonghwa smiled sadly.

It had been a while since you had seen the others all together, but it seemed to you like they were starting to let their guards down. At least, enough to relax and enjoy where they are. Yunho and Jongho didn’t seem to be as stiff as when they came in. The example of them coming down to the bar for the first time came to mind. While Yeosang and Seonghwa were already the calm two of the group, they too looked like they weren’t struggling as much as when you met them a week ago.

“Do you all enjoy music?” You asked, scooting in closer to the piano.

“It’s what brought us together.” Soenghwa answered. “Captain was the one who started everything.”

“We weren’t always a group of criminals.” Seonghwa sighed, fingers drifting over the keys.

Your eyes drifted over the three, watching as Yunho and Jongho seemed to be laughing to themselves, the alcohol getting to them. Well to Yunho because it seemed as though Jongho had a great handle on himself. If you didn’t know about their occupation you would assume they were like all the other men your age who came and went through the hotel.

They looked like they were stress free as though they weren’t going around causing trouble for a lot of people. You didn’t know their stories, but hearing from Seonghwa that they weren’t who everyone claimed to be, you wanted to know all about them.

“I couldn’t imagine.” You calmly told him.

“Us not being criminals?” Yunho called out.

“Being criminals. None of you look like you want to be.” You confessed.

“Because we aren’t. Not when we help the less fortunate.” Jongho crossed his arms, leaning back in the chair.

Your mind began to wander around his words. You remembered the story about the robbery that took place in the town over with Harthorne. Everyone knew he wasn’t the kindest of people and was really stingy with his money. He hoarded it, not daring to spend more than he needed to. Everyone knew he was a spoiled man who didn’t lift a finger to help those who needed it.

You figured it was them who had taken the money from Harthorne. The men at the bar didn’t tell you more about what the gang did with the money but if they claim to not be criminals you wouldn’t be off put to know where it must have gone. There was a story about a man who knew how to use a bow and arrow. He would take from the rich and give to the poor. You wondered if they had read it as well.

“You take from the rich-”

“And give to the poor.” Seonghwa ended.

“That changes things, doesn’t it?” You grinned.

“You scared?” Seonghwa teased.

He gave you a grin, which made you flush again. Yunho had leaned closer to you while Jongho waited for you to speak. There was a time when you would glare back at men who made you so flustered. You would often retort with something stupid that would cause them offense for how unladylike you spoke. However you weren’t there to make them like you. They weren’t people you needed to impress.

“Of the Park Seonghwa?” You chuckled. “Not anymore. Not after that beautiful display you just put on.”

“You should hear Yeosang play the violin. He is a master.” Seonghwa praised his friend.

They cared deeply for each other, that much was noticeable. Maybe looking at them from afar they did look like hoodlums who would shiv you because you looked at them wrong. Or in most of their cases would seduce you into their beds and leave you the next day.

But within themselves they held each other in high regards. You saw it in the way they spoke about their captain. How they cared about each other when two of them were injured. You knew they were all they had, with being in a gang. Not many people would open their arms for them. They were a family. And it brought a smile to your face to know they weren’t the criminals people claimed they were.

You smiled brightly. “I’ll hold him to that.”

Series Masterlist

@thefrog3223 , @iarayara , @0rangemilk , @explorewithd , @loveforred , @bangtanxberm , @a1i33a ,

278 notes · View notes

azsazz · 16 days

Note

Hiii 👋 just wanted to say I adore your writing ☺️ I always get so happy when I see you’ve written something new 😁

I was curious to ask, what are some of your favourite modern AU jobs/roles for the bat boys (whether you’ve written about them or not)? Or just any ACOTAR characters?

CEO Rhys has been done a lot, but for good reason, it’s so perfect. He almost has to be effortlessly rich and/or in some position of power, like a prince, or a mafia boss.💰 I also kinda like to imagine him as a nepo baby set to take over his father’s company, but he breaks away or gets cut off, so with his very little actual job experience (as he was all set to inherit), he gets a barista job at a lil coffee shop. ☕️

Cass would definitely suit something physical, like an ice hockey player, or a firefighter, or a personal trainer. I could so see him being a gym teacher as well, imagine him coaching a kids ice hockey team. 💪🏽 He would SO volunteer to be a nude model in life drawing classes in his free time 😆 Though I hadn’t considered it before I read your stuff, I think he really fits a small town rancher too. I can so picture him in jeans, boots, and a flannel shirt, driving around in an old rusty faded red truck 👨‍🌾

Az could easily be in the FBI or something, but choosing something further away from his canon role, I seriously think he’d be an awkward computer programmer / software engineer nerd, or a twitch gamer, 👨🏻‍💻 with a secret anonymous OnlyFans or erotic audio patreon on the side. 😏 And I reckon he’d ride a motorcycle and tinker with it in his spare time, so might also enjoy working at a garage. 🏍️ I really love him in Midnight Muse, and think he suits a shy amateur artist / tattoo artist as well.

I also love the bat boy band idea I’ve seen a lot recently, where Rhys is the charismatic lead singer and guitarist, Az is the quiet songwriting bassist, and Cass is the energetic drummer. 🎶

Sorry it’s so long, I just love thinking about this stuff 😄

Hiiii!! Thank you so so much! I saw this message this morning but wanted to wait until I could give it my full attention and have my computer around, so thank you for your patience! 💙

Okay, some of my favorite AUs for the batboys? This is a wonderful question!

Rhys: Normally, I just think of Rhys as always having some sort of money/job inherited. So CEO, mafia, anything that puts him in a position of power, really, but i think it's mostly because those just reflect the books.

I do, however, love love love art school rhys. painter rhys. working at the local art supply degenerate rhys who still has wealthy parents but is trying to stick it to the man rhys. steals erasers and petty things from the art supply rhys. love him so much.

There's also something to be said about young adult rhys who's messing around with his little sister's best friend rhys. he gets me going too.

also captain of the hockey team rhys is a solid choice for him as well.

Cass: LOVE ME SOME RANCHER/COWBOY/SMALL TOWN CASSIAN. but, these are all very different. small town cass doesn't trust women, heart broken at a young age with the girl he thought was his forever. doesn't want to leave town, likes the ranch because its safe and its what he knows. cowboy cass or bull rider cassian, famous for breaking horses and backs. grumpy, gruff rancher cassian always gets me going tbh he's fucking hot as shit

i also always see him in a blue collar role like a mechanic or welder are the two i mostly attribute to him.

def something physical as well, we love hockey cass, rugby cass, wrestler (wwe lol) cass, dang i had another on my mind for sports cass but i forgot. sad. OH surfer cassian. jock type tho i can see him as. love the firefighter vibe for him too, he'd fill out the tight fire department t-shirt WELL LADIES and also volunteers for wet t-shirt contests. omg gym teach cass would be adorable as hell! oof another thought, contractor cassian ffs that would be so yummy

Az: Az i agree fits the FBI (stalker) vibes. i also like to think of him in finance or computer science too. omfg the erotic audio that's iconic and i'd def subscribe to that. hmmm what else could i see azzy doing...maybe something with music or writing...i could see him being a ghost writer of some sort and then one day his song plays on the radio and he's like hey i wrote that and literally no one believes him. something behind the scenes or where he can go unnoticed is mostly where i place him, tbh. honestly maybe even something military because he takes comfort in having a set schedule and people telling him what to do at every minute of the day. he'd fare well i think. perfect. operative because if the mission goes south and he gets captured he's not telling a soul anything.

Eris: idk why this thought came to my head but i was thinking about architecture but i think eris would be a fantastic interior designer lol. like i could see it. maybe i was just thinking about him furnishing az's new place and having a lil sparky. i could also see him as a lawyer too or something like that, something where he can be the know-it-all, smirking at them and looking down his nose at them...

Lucien: Architecture for sure. or professor. I could see him doing either of these. maybe even lawyer tbh, he would be good at that too, though i know he's immaculate at twisting stories and words so you gotta be careful of that.

Tamlin: poet? lol. professional gaslighter? jk i love tammy. maybe he installs security systems? haha just kidding just kidding. he's a tough one tho. idk why i added him but i guess also a musician but low-key soothing music, instrumental for sure...prob has a podcast where he just bullshits all day

hopefully i didn't rant for too long about this 🤭💙 this was so much fun though thank you for asking!

#ask azsazz

41 notes · View notes

kingofbodyrolls · 1 month

Text

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

🐴Chapter summary: After breaking up with Jimin, you realize how much you love him, and that maybe that love should be enough to carry you through your new life— being a parent, for someone else’s child.

🐴Chapter title: I Wish the Past was Different

🐴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: angst (is this really a surprise?), mention of pregnancy (not oc!!!), a riding accident, a lot of thinking and overthinking, sadness and angst, jealousy, working through feelings.

🐴Status: completed 🥳

🐴Word count: 10.5k

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

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

🐴Now playing 💿 “Time Turn Over” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?]

🐴Author’s note: OC is being very Bella Swan in this chapter, I’m sorry again 😭 BUT!!! The angst goes away in this chapter too, because I just wouldn’t do it (I’m tired of the angst, lol). Because of said angst, it was tough for me to write and I actually ended up asking my husband for advice because I was stuck, not meeting my own word length deadline and because I just felt stuck in general 🥲 But alas, he gave me a good idea, and I went with that! There is very minimal angst going forward from this chapter, like it’s so minor compared to all the rest, so I hope you’ll enjoy mostly unicorns and rainbows after this chapter ☀️

You can send in your questions for the characters or me here → Ask away 💜*

*for people on AO3 you can also participate if you want to, just leave a comment (guest/anon or not), and I’ll reply to that and I’ll add your question in the Epilogue 💜

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

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

“And oh, I wish the past was different And oh, I wish it wasn’t so But in the end, because I’m here now In the end, I think you know I can’t say it and you can’t feel it but I can not let it go And oh, I wish the past was different And oh, I wish it wasn’t so” ‘I Wish the Past Was Different’ by Rebecca Lavelle

You’ve thrown yourself into your work with the wild horses, seeking solace in their untamed spirits. Yet, the bittersweet reality of having to work at Jimin’s place constantly tugs at your heartstrings. Each encounter with him reignites the longing to be wrapped in his arms, to find solace in his embrace, and to believe in a future together. But then you catch sight of Deiji, and the floodgates of jealousy and insecurity and self doubt burst open once more, drowning you in feelings of inadequacy and unpreparedness for the daunting prospect of motherhood, especially when it's someone else's child at the center of it all.

Why does life have to twist and turn in such cruel ways? The weight of this pain is crushing, dragging you down with each passing moment, threatening to shatter you into irreparable fragments.

You find yourself yearning for an alternate reality where Jimin never crossed paths with Deiji, where their relationship was just a figment of imagination rather than a painful reality. The ache in your chest resonates with the desire to assign blame, to point fingers at anything but your own heart for walking away. It’s easier to lay fault at the feet of Deiji and Jimin than to confront the agonizing truth of your own decision to part ways.

You scuff, a tempest of anger and sorrow swirling within you, each emotion battling for dominance, leaving your stomach tied in knots. Amidst this tumult, focusing on the wild horses becomes a difficult task, prompting Hoseok to step in and assist Yoongi more frequently while you remain perched atop the fence, a silent observer of the scene below.

The love between the two men is palpable, their synergy evident as they collaborate seamlessly. Yet, as you observe them coaxing a once-wild gray horse into submission, a bittersweet symphony plays in your heart. Their laughter, like tinkling bells, fills the air, but with each shared chuckle, a pang of longing grips your soul. You can’t help but notice the gentle caress of Hoseok's hand on Yoongi’s arm, the way their eyes meet with an unspoken understanding, and their voices, light and airy, carrying the melody of their affection.

Their effortless relationship is both heartwarming and gut-wrenching to witness. You adore them both and revel in their happiness, yet a pang of envy lingers as you yearn for a similar bliss with Jimin. The prospect of parenthood looms over you like a daunting storm cloud, and you're lost in a tempest of uncertainty, unsure of how to navigate the tumultuous waters ahead.

Hoseok’s hands caress the sleek coat of the gray horse, his touch a delicate dance of reassurance and patience. The majestic creature stands serene under his guidance, a testament to their bond of trust and understanding.

Yoongi pivots, his keen eyes catching the shadow of sorrow that’s cloaked you for days, casting a solemn hue over your features.

He strides over, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of your storm. Perching beside you on the fence, he offers a reassuring pat on your shoulder. “It’s going to be alright,” he assures, his voice a soothing balm to your troubled soul.

You highly doubt it. You replay the choices in your mind like a broken record, each decision leading you to this moment of heartache. You could have chosen to stay with Jimin, to endure the pain silently, but the weight of it all felt unbearable. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, a silent acknowledgment of the turmoil within.

You turn your gaze towards Yoongi, the question burning on your lips, a mixture of curiosity and longing swirling in your chest. Despite knowing you shouldn't pry, your heart yearns for a glimpse into Jimin’s world. “How’s Jimin holding up?” you inquire, your voice tinged with a fragile hope, betraying the emotions you've been grappling with.

Yoongi’s eyes meet yours, a silent plea evident in their depths, urging you to reconsider your question. His expression carries a weight of concern, as if he’s shielding you from the painful truth that might follow.

As the silence lingers, you press further, your voice a whisper weighted with apprehension. “Is he... back with Deiji?” The words hang heavy in the air, fraught with a mix of dread and longing for a truth you're not sure you're ready to confront.

Yoongi’s features contort into a mask of sorrow, his gaze drifting downward to the grains of sand within the pen, as if seeking solace in the mundane. “You shouldn’t hurt yourself with questions like this,” he murmurs, his tone heavy with empathy and resignation. “But no, Jimin is still very single.”

The revelation doesn’t exactly lift the weight from your heart, though it's a relief knowing he’s not rushing back into Deiji’s embrace. Still, a melancholic ache persists, knowing that things have unfolded this way.

Yoongi’s words land like a gentle breeze, stirring a mix of emotions within you. “You know,” he confides, his tone carrying a thread of hope. “Jimin misses you a lot. He talks about you everyday. He wishes that you’ll change your mind and come back home.” As his gaze meets your weary eyes, a glimmer of optimism dances in his own.

Tears have become an unwelcome companion, tracing silent rivers down your cheeks, staining your pillow with the remnants of your sorrow. Night after night, you find solace in the lullaby of tears, until even your sister’s concern casts a shadow upon your weary soul. Your eyes, once bright with laughter, now betray the weight of your heartache, swollen and heavy with the burden of your grief. Yet, in the face of it all, you couldn’t summon the energy to care.

You draw in a shuddering breath, grappling with the tempest of emotions swirling within you. “I miss him too,” you admit, your voice quivering with raw honesty. “But I can’t bear the thought of being in a relationship with him, not with his child on the way with another woman.”

You release a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping under the weight of exhaustion and emotional turmoil. Every task seems monumental, even the simplest ones, and just coaxing yourself out of bed feels like an uphill battle. A tear teeters on the edge of your waterline, a silent testament to the inner turmoil gnawing at your soul. Desperate to divert your thoughts from Jimin's memory, you draw in a deep breath and pivot the conversation. “You and Hoseok seem really happy,” you remark, attempting to steer the dialogue towards a lighter topic.

A gentle chuckle ripples from Yoongi’s lips beside you, a soothing sound amidst the heaviness of your emotions. He senses your need for a reprieve and graciously allows the shift in conversation. “Was that a question or a statement?” he quips, his laughter like a beacon guiding you away from the shadows of sadness, urging your weary spirit back towards the light.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, a brief respite from the weight of your thoughts. “Definitely a statement,” you reply with a hint of self-awareness, the sound of your laughter mingling with the breeze, carrying a fleeting moment of lightness through the heavy air.

“We are happy,” Yoongi affirms, a genuine smile spreading across his face, revealing the warmth in his eyes. Together, you observe Hoseok’s movements with the gray horse below, the sight of him successfully saddling the animal a testament to his skill and patience.

“That’s great. I’m so happy for you, Yoongi,” you express, mustering a smile, though it lacks the usual sparkle that once defined it.

“Thank you. But I can see it’s tough for you,” he starts, his gaze probing yours, seeking something elusive, something you're not quite sure of.

You brush off his concern with a casual flick of your hand. “I put myself in this situation,” you say, the weight of your words heavier than you intended.

You slump further against the fence, sinking into the sanctuary of your own fragile thoughts.

Hoseok remains focused on the horse, his movements fluid and purposeful, while Yoongi stands steadfast beside you, his arm enveloping you in a comforting embrace, a reassuring anchor amidst the tumult of your thoughts.

“Thank you Yoongi,” You express your gratitude to Yoongi with a heartfelt whisper, leaning into his comforting presence. His embrace is a sanctuary, enveloping you in warmth and the refreshing scent of mint, a soothing balm to your troubled soul.

“What for?” With a soft chuckle, Yoongi queries, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.

“For always being there for me,” You utter, your voice laced with profound gratitude. The weight of your words hangs in the air, a testament to the depth of your appreciation for his unwavering friendship.

The relentless sun beats down upon you as you toil alongside Soo-ah, Ara, and Ha-rin, laboring to scrub clean the water trough for the cattle in a distant paddock. Beads of sweat form rivulets on your brow, and you futilely attempt to brush them away with the hem of your shirt, but the relentless heat refuses to relent.

The scorching heat bears down upon you relentlessly as you vigorously scrub away at the trough, determined to rid it of its slimy residue, accumulated grime, and encrusted grease. Each stroke of the brush is a testament to your commitment, knowing full well the vital importance of this cleaning ritual to ensure the cattle’s access to pristine water during their time in the paddock.

“Don’t you think it’s time to move on?” Ara’s words pierce through the haze of your thoughts, jolting you out of the cocoon of self-pity you’ve wrapped yourself in.

Beside you, Soo-ah and Ha-rin exchange startled gasps, their synchronized reaction prompting you to arch an eyebrow in curiosity, silently urging Ara to continue.

“That’s so inconsiderate of you to say, Ara!” Soo-ah’s reprimand cuts through the air, her words laced with a protective edge, while Ha-rin’s support echoes her sentiment, amplifying the intensity of the moment.

“What? But she seems so miserable, Jimin too, why don’t you just work it out?” Ara’s voice carries genuine concern, wrapped in a gentle tone, yet it strikes a nerve within you. You sense her good intentions, but the thought of rehashing your struggles yet again feels draining. With a heavy exhale, you opt for silence, allowing your frustration to seep out in a weary sigh.

“Don’t you think she would work it out with him, if she wanted to?” Ha-rin’s words cut through the humid air, laced with a hint of frustration as she vigorously scrubs the steel trough. It’s a valid question, one that resonates with the unspoken doubts lingering in your mind. You ponder her inquiry, the rhythmic sound of metal against metal providing a backdrop to your internal turmoil.

It’s a surreal sensation, like eavesdropping on a conversation about your own life from a distance. Their words hang heavy in the air, echoing the unspoken complexities of your situation. You stand there, a silent observer to your own narrative, grappling with the strange disconnect between your presence and their discussion.

Ara’s voice rises, her words infused with a desperate plea for understanding. But like, last time they didn’t talk for months and it was just a stupid misunderstanding,” she insists, her eyes searching for empathy among her companions.

Soo-ah interjects with a firm tone, “Do you even comprehend the sheer effort it takes to raise a child?” she questions, her gaze piercing. “If she’s not prepared for that responsibility, then she’s simply not ready.”

It feels funny, how they are talking about you and Jimin, you might as well say something.

The scrubbing of the trough halts abruptly as you pivot towards Ara, your expression a mix of vulnerability and resolve. “It’s not that we aren’t talking,” you begin, your voice carrying the weight of your emotions. “We still communicate, but it’s the sight of Deiji that stings the most. Knowing they’re expecting a child together... it’s hard not to feel consumed by jealousy,” you confess, the words heavy with raw honesty.

Ara’s eyes soften with understanding, her nod a silent acknowledgment of the tumult of emotions you're navigating. “It sounds like you want a child of your own, with Jimin,” she ventures, her words carrying a gentle empathy that resonates with your innermost desires and fears.

Ha-rin’s reaction is a blend of admonishment and hushing as she playfully nudges Ara’s arm, silently urging her to tread carefully while also chiding her for broaching a sensitive topic.

“I’m not entirely certain about having children,” you start, your words measured and tinged with uncertainty, “but raising someone else’s child is certainly not what I imagined or wanted to do.”

Soo-ah and Ha-rin exchange understanding nods. “Do you think you might change your mind later?” Ha-rin inquires gently, her voice carrying a tone of empathy as she continues with her task.

You pause, mulling over her question for a moment, before responding thoughtfully, “I’m not entirely sure... perhaps. It’s just... I can’t quite envision how it would all come together, you know?”

“I just... when I envision Jimin embracing fatherhood, cherishing that little girl of his soon entering the world, it’s her child, not mine,” you sigh in frustration, yet oddly finding a glimmer of relief in the honesty of your words.

“So you’re jealous that it’s not going to be your child?” Ara teases beside you, prompting a scolding glare from Soo-ah.

“You just said you didn’t want kids, but now you say you do... make up your mind,” Ara adds, rolling her eyes in a playful yet challenging manner.

“She doesn’t want Deiji’s kid, can’t you get that?” Soo-ah says, coming to your defense once more, her voice firm with conviction.

“Guys! I’m just not sure I want kids, period. Why can’t I be undecided on this?” Your words hang heavy in the air, a plea for understanding, as you return to the task of scrubbing the trough with a vigor that betrays your inner turmoil.

“Yeah. Let’s not badger her, okay?” Ha-rin’s voice cuts through the tension like a soothing balm, her gentle plea for empathy echoing your own sentiments. You catch her soft gaze, a silent acknowledgment of her understanding, offering a momentary respite from the probing questions.

“But can I say something?” Her demeanor shifts with a mix of hesitance and determination, her gaze seeking reassurance before she speaks. You offer a nod, granting her the space to voice her thoughts, curious about what might follow.

“You still love Jimin and he still loves you— don’t you think you could focus on that, and just like, not focus on the kid?” Her words hang in the air, a delicate plea woven with threads of hope and uncertainty. You feel a pang of longing as she speaks, her sincerity piercing through the heaviness of the situation. Despite the weight of her suggestion, you can't help but consider the possibility buried within her question.

As her words sink in, you find yourself grappling with a newfound perspective. The idea of focusing on your enduring love for Jimin rather than fixating on the looming presence of a child is both liberating and daunting. It’s a notion you’ve never entertained before, a ray of light piercing through the clouds of uncertainty that have engulfed you. Could it be that the solution to your turmoil lies in embracing the love that binds you, rather than allowing fear to drive you apart?

Each stroke of the brush across the canvas feels like a dance, a rhythmic movement driven by the whirlwind of thoughts swirling through your mind. Jimin’s presence looms large in your thoughts, refusing to be ignored or pushed aside. Ha-rin’s words echo in your ears, a gentle reminder to reconsider your perspective. As you ponder the notion of shifting your focus away from Jimin’s impending fatherhood, you can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope flicker within you. Could it be that amidst the chaos of uncertainty, there lies a path illuminated by the enduring flame of love?

You remain ensnared in the labyrinth of uncertainty, grappling with the weight of your emotions and the intricacies of your relationship. The truth is a bitter pill to swallow: Jimin’s impending fatherhood would inevitably redefine the contours of your relationship, demanding a portion of his time and attention that you would never begrudge. Yet, amidst the tangle of doubts and fears, a flicker of understanding begins to dawn. Perhaps, in the vast expanse of love, there exists room for compromise, for navigating the labyrinth together, hand in hand.

The question lingers in the depths of your soul, a haunting refrain echoing through the corridors of your mind: are you truly prepared for it all?

Ready to become someone’s mother. Step mother?

Ready to raise a child?

Yet, can you truly provide a nurturing environment for a child if one of the adults harbors resentment towards their presence?

You understand it’s not the child’s fault, but the mere thought of it being Deiji’s offspring churns your stomach. You harbor an intense dislike for her, and a nagging suspicion still lingers, whispering that she’s up to something.

You’ve never laid eyes on any proof of the paternity test, and the unsettling thought lingers: did Jimin even ask to see it? Perhaps it's time to broach that topic with him.

As you reminisce about the warmth and intimacy you once shared with Jimin, a wave of melancholy washes over you, leaving you adrift in a sea of longing. Doubts creep in, questioning the wisdom of your choices. Should you have held onto what you had with him, despite the challenges?

The canvas before you mirrors the tumult within, a chaotic blend of muddy hues—gray, brown, beige, and dark blue—an unexpected abstraction of your inner turmoil. It’s a reflection of your tangled thoughts, much like the surprise abstract painting that has emerged from your brush. Yet, beneath the layers of color, a longing persists. You ache to create something different, something infused with the joy of yesteryears—perhaps the serene landscapes that once graced your canvas. Yet, as you realize nearly a year has passed since your return to the ranch, a flood of memories rushes in, dominated by thoughts of Jimin.

Oh, how you wish things were different.

On an unassuming day, bathed in sunlight, you find yourself quietly eating breakfast in the kitchen, lost in your own solemn musings. Suddenly, the tranquility is shattered as Jungkook steps into the room, jolting you out of your reverie.

You’re acutely aware that since parting ways with Jimin, you’ve been teetering on the brink of depression. It was a painful but necessary decision to safeguard your shattered heart. Yet, despite your efforts to protect yourself, you’re haunted by the gnawing realization that no matter what path you choose, your heart remains irreparably broken.

“Hey,” he greets you with a warm smile, but as you return the gesture, your own smile falls short of matching his infectious happiness. Your gaze lingers on him, curiosity piqued as you notice something clutched in his hand. Why is he carrying a letter?

“How are you doing?” he inquires, and you respond with a bitter chuckle. Can’t he see how you’re doing? You’re well aware of your appearance, having been reminded by your sister that you look like a mess. The truth is, you’re consumed by a constant sadness, and you’ve exhausted all your energy trying to conceal it.

“I feel like shit,” you admit, opting for raw honesty because pretending otherwise seems futile. Jungkook knows you well, understands the depth of your pain stemming from the breakup with his brother.

He offers you a reassuring smile, closing the distance between you as he gently places the white envelope on the table. Your eyes drift down to it, and you immediately recognize your name scrawled across it in familiar handwriting—it’s Jimin’s.

“This is from my brother,” he murmurs, his nerves palpable as he scratches the back of his head, causing you to shift your gaze between him and the letter, your mind racing with anticipation. What could possibly be contained within? Will it offer solace or inflict further pain? The uncertainty grips you tightly, leaving you on edge.

“Can’t he speak for himself?” You question, a hint of frustration seeping into your voice as your fingers hover over the letter, finally grasping it to inspect its contents.

“He’s torn about whether to give you space or not,” Jungkook confides, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “And he has no idea that I snatched the letter.”

Your eyes widen as you fix your gaze on him. “Are you sure I should read this then?” You inquire, a hint of apprehension creeping into your voice. “Maybe Jimin doesn’t want me to read it.”

Jungkook offers you a gentle smile. “It’s fine,” he reassures, his tone laced with determination. “If he gets mad, it’s on me. But you need to read it. I’m tired of seeing you both suffer like this.”

With those words, he leaves you to grapple with your thoughts and the letter, its edges slightly crumpled, a testament to the turmoil it contains. Your heart pounds in your chest, your mind weighed down by a heavy burden, and your eyes dry from the countless tears shed. You resolve to open the letter, sliding it out slowly; its handwritten contents are adorned with dried tears, each smudge a poignant reminder of the emotions woven into every word. Even before you begin to read, a lump forms in your throat, and your vision blurs with the tears welling up in your eyes.

Despite your trembling hands and the overwhelming emotions coursing through you, you summon every ounce of courage within you. With a determined resolve, you steady your gaze and immerse yourself in every heart-wrenching word penned by Jimin in his letter.

My love,

You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love you more than words can express, and the ache of missing you is a constant companion. I’m deeply sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. No apology could ever capture the depth of my remorse for hurting you repeatedly. My heart weighs heavy with regret, and I want you to know how truly sorry I am. I wish I could undo the hurt I’ve caused. I understand that you may not be ready for motherhood, and I would never want to pressure you into anything. But I hold onto hope that we can find our way back to each other. I love you endlessly, and the thought of being apart is unbearable. I know I don’t deserve your kindness and forgiveness, but please, consider giving me another chance. You are my everything, and I long for us to be reunited.

With all my love and remorse,

Jimin

As your tears mingle with Jimin’s on the page, your heart aches with a poignant mix of love and pain. Despite the hurt he’s caused, your love for him remains unwavering, yet it’s accompanied by the uncertainty of whether you’re prepared for motherhood. However, amidst the turmoil, a flicker of hope ignites within you—perhaps, just perhaps, you can find the strength to be ready for that journey with him.

You sense the weight of your thoughts pressing down, suffocating you. There’s an urgency to clear your mind, to escape the labyrinth of your own making. And you know precisely what remedy awaits: a ride. Out onto the sprawling expanse of land surrounding your ranch, where the wind whispers secrets and the horizon stretches endlessly. It’s your sanctuary, your refuge from the turmoil within—a chance to lose yourself in the rhythm of hoofbeats and the vastness of the world beyond.

Typically, when you saddle up, the chaos in your mind settles, and you allow yourself to sink into the serenity of the natural world, letting the rhythm of hoofbeats replace the cacophony of thoughts.

That’s why you find yourself in the barn, carefully saddling Mikrokosmos, feeling the familiar weight of the leather in your hands, the comforting scent of hay and wood surrounding you. With each buckle tightened and each strap secured, a sense of anticipation builds within you. Leading Mikrokosmos out of the barn, you’re eager to immerse yourself in the healing embrace of nature, seeking solace in the rhythmic cadence of hoofbeats and the whispering winds.

With a steady breath, you slide your foot into the stirrup, feeling the familiar weight of your body settling into the saddle. As you swing your leg over, a surge of anticipation courses through you, mingling with the raw energy emanating from Mikrokosmos. With a gentle nudge of your heels, you coax her into motion, feeling the power of her muscles ripple beneath you as she eagerly responds to your command, propelling both of you forward into the boundless expanse of the open land.

With each rhythmic beat of Mikrokosmos’ hooves against the earth, you surrender to the wild abandon of the ride, seeking solace in the untamed beauty of the landscape unfurling before you. Away from the suffocating grip of memories and uncertainties, you allow the wind to carry away the weight of your burdens, embracing the freedom of the open horizon as you ride further into the unknown.

As the wind weaves through your hair, its gentle touch whispers a symphony of freedom, entwining with the rhythmic melody of Mikrokosmos’ hooves tearing through the earth. With each stride, she paints the landscape with her fervent dance, sending plumes of dust swirling into the air. In the harmony of nature’s cadence, your spirit soars, liberated from the weight of doubt and longing. Each thunderous beat of her hooves resonates with the pounding rhythm of your heart.

Surrendering to the rush of wind and the pounding of hooves, you relinquish the burdens that have tethered your soul, allowing them to scatter like leaves in the breeze, if only for a fleeting moment.

As the sky transforms from serene blue to ominous gray, then to the cloak of night pierced by flashes of lightning, you sense the electricity in the air mirrored by Mikrokosmos’ subtle twitch, a silent acknowledgment of nature’s impending fury.

As the thunderclouds gather with ominous intent, you’re acutely aware of the danger of being caught in the open during a storm. Lost in the vast expanse, you realize with a sinking feeling that you’ve ventured too far to return before the tempest strikes. Yet, the urgency to seek shelter pushes you onward, driven by the instinct to find safety amidst the approaching chaos.

Amidst the dense foliage, you urgently guide Mikrokosmos, a steadfast companion in the tumultuous terrain. Suddenly, a deafening rumble ruptures the air, and the heavens ignite with a blinding flash. Your loyal steed startles, veering sharply as a nearby tree becomes a target for the furious lightning. With lightning’s crackle still echoing, Mikrokosmos rears in panic, jolting you from the saddle. You plummet to the earth, pain searing through your body upon impact, a harsh reminder of nature's unforgiving power. Fuck it hurts.

Mikrokosmos, wide-eyed and trembling, lingers by your side, almost like she wants to make sure you’re okay. You extend a trembling hand in reassurance, craving the solace of her presence, but as another deafening thunderclap reverberates through the sky, she recoils in terror. With a swift and panicked motion, she breaks away, vanishing into the wilderness, leaving you alone amidst the storm’s fury.

“Mikrokosmos, come back!” Your voice echoes through the wilderness, a desperate plea swallowed by the roaring tempest. With each strained syllable, you feel the weight of your fear and frustration, your heart racing in sync with her retreating hoofbeats. As you struggle to rise, the sting of pain ignites along your spine, a harsh reminder of your vulnerability amidst nature's fury. Damn it - you should have prepared her for moments like these, should have been more vigilant in her training with sudden loud noises. Now, your failure looms large, a bitter taste of remorse in the storm's relentless assault.

As the rain pours down in relentless sheets and the sky is intermittently illuminated by flashes of lightning, she finds herself lost in worry. Hours have slipped by since her sister embarked on her ride, and with each passing minute, concern gnaws at her like a persistent ache. In the midst of such tumultuous weather, her sister should have returned by now.

Where could she be? What if something has gone wrong out there in the storm’s fury?

Anxious tendrils grip her as she leans in closer to Jungkook, her voice trembling with concern. “Kook, I’m really worried about my sister. She should have been back by now,” she confides, her words laced with a sense of urgency. Jungkook’s eyes widen in alarm, his grip tightening on the beer bottle as he absorbs her distress.

As she gazes out the window, her heart lurches at the sight of a panicked Mikrokosmos darting around the yard. “Mikrokosmos is running wild out there, but still no sign of my sister. This can’t be good,” she murmurs, urgency coloring her voice as she hastily slips into her boots and jacket. Sensing the gravity of the situation, Jungkook is right by her side, his expression mirroring her concern as they prepare to investigate.

Jessi manages to soothe Mikrokosmos, her fingers gently curling around the reins. “Easy, girl,” she murmurs, her voice a soft reassurance in the midst of the storm.

She strokes Mikrokosmos’ mane, her touch a comforting anchor in the chaos of the storm. “Easy, girl,” she whispers, her voice a soothing melody amidst the thunderous symphony. “Steady, now,” she repeats, her words a gentle plea for calmness.

She whirls around to face Jungkook, urgency etched across her features. “This isn’t good. Where’s my sister?” Her voice quivers with worry, each word punctuated by the pounding rain outside, echoing the frantic beat of her heart.

Jungkook pivots, his eyes widening at the sight of Soo-ah hurtling from her cottage. “What’s Mikrokosmos doing here alone?” His voice is laced with concern, mirroring the panic in Soo-ah’s expression.

Jessi relinquishes the reins to Soo-ah, her voice trembling with worry. “I think something has happened to my sister, otherwise Mikrokosmos wouldn’t be here alone. Can you please take her into the stables, calm her down, and we’ll search for my sister?”

Soo-ah seizes the reins with determination and offers Jessi a firm nod, leading Mikrokosmos over to the stables. Jessi’s expression is etched with concern as she turns to Jungkook, her brow furrowed in deep distress.

“Let’s go look for her, she shouldn’t be out in this weather,” With urgency etched in his voice, he clasps her hand firmly, a silent promise of support. Together, they hustle to his truck, determination fueling their actions as they race back to Bell Ranch, intent on rallying more help to find you.

They dash through the rain-drenched yard, urgency in each step as they burst into the house where Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi lounge in front of the TV, oblivious to the mounting concern etched on Jungkook and Jessi’s faces.

Urgency floods Jungkook’s voice as he interrupts their tranquility. “Guys, Jess’ sister is missing. We need your help to find her,” he implores, his words slicing through the calm of the room like a thunderbolt.

Jimin’s muscles tense, his expression darkening with concern as his heart quickens its pace. Yoongi springs from the couch with such urgency that he should feel lightheaded. In a synchronized rush, the trio leaps into action, snatching up their boots and jackets.

The weather outside is relentless, the midday darkness accentuated by the unyielding rain and gray skies, enveloping everything in a shroud of cold, damp chill.

Jimin’s voice cuts through the tension, his hand already reaching for the keys to his truck. “Should we split into groups of two or three?” he suggests, urgency lacing his words like a silent plea for swift action.

Jessi’s voice holds authority, her words cutting through the air like a command. “I think two are fine,” she concedes, her tone firm and resolute. “But you’re not driving.” Her finger jabs towards Jimin, swiftly snatching the keys from his grasp and passing them to Yoongi with an unyielding resolve.

Jimin’s expression shifts from disbelief to begrudging acceptance as he grapples with Jessi’s unexpected assertion. Despite his initial astonishment, a flicker of understanding ignites within him, and he obediently trails after his brother and Jessi, braving the torrential rain outside.

Yoongi and Hoseok climb into Jimin’s trusty blue truck, equipped with a walkie-talkie in hand, their fingers poised to establish a connection with Jungkook, Jimin, and Jessi in the other vehicle. As they settle in, the anticipation in the air is palpable, their shared determination driving them forward into the unknown.

Yoongi’s voice crackles over the walkie-talkie, edged with concern, as he asks, “Do we have any idea which direction she might have gone?” His words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of uncertainty, echoing the urgency of their search.

Jessi’s voice crackles with determination over the line as she directs the plan, “We’re clueless about her direction. Let’s split up – you take the eastern side, we’ll cover the western.” Meanwhile, Jungkook twists the key in the ignition, setting the window wipers to a frantic rhythm. Jimin, gripped by worry, perches on the edge of his seat in the back, craning forward over the center console to scan the rain-soaked landscape ahead.

They embark on their respective routes, traversing the treacherous terrain of the rugged hills. The landscape is unyielding, but the sturdy trucks with four-wheel drive prove to be invaluable companions. Jungkook guides their vehicle with practiced precision, a stark contrast to the frantic urgency of their previous search when Jessi was missing. This time, he maneuvers cautiously, each movement deliberate, mindful of the perilous conditions and determined to avoid any mishaps.

Jimin’s voice cuts through the tension in the truck's cabin, his impatience palpable. “Can’t you drive faster?” he urges his brother from the back seat, his anxiety mounting with each passing moment.

Jungkook’s tone carries a hint of frustration as he scuffs, “No, this terrain isn’t really made for fast driving. And relax. We’ll find her,” his words a gentle reassurance amidst the mounting worry.

Jimin huffs impatiently in the back seat, realizing there’s nothing much to do but wait until they find you. Each passing moment heightens his concern, hoping against hope that you’re safe amidst the storm and uncertainty.

Jessi turns to Jimin, her voice cutting through the tense atmosphere in the truck. “That ring you bought a while back, is it just collecting dust, or do you plan on giving it to her soon?” Her directness adds another layer of urgency to the situation, hinting at the unresolved emotions lingering between him and you.

Jungkook chuckles beside her, a brief moment of lightness amidst the tension, yet his gaze remains fixed on the rugged path ahead, emphasizing the gravity of the situation they’re in.

Jimin stumbles over his words, his voice strained with uncertainty. “I just don’t think now’s the right time,” he admits, his words tinged with the weight of recent events. “This whole thing with Deiji and then your sister breaking up with me, I don’t think it would be appropriate.” His voice trails off, the unfinished sentence hanging heavy with unspoken emotions.

She scoffs, her tone laced with incredulity. “Appropriate?” Her disbelief echoes through the cabin, challenging Jimin’s hesitation with a raw intensity.

She turns her whole body in her seat to face Jimin, her eyes ablaze with urgency. “I’m sorry, but this whole thing with Deiji is hella suspicious. And you love my sister, right? She loves you too. She’s almost sick, because she broke up with you, did you know that?” Her words hang heavy in the air, charged with a blend of concern and accusation, demanding a response from Jimin.

Jimin’s eyes widen at her words, a mix of surprise and guilt flashing across his face, but he remains silent, his thoughts swirling like a tempestuous sea, grappling with the weight of her accusations.

“She doesn’t eat properly anymore. She’s lost weight, she’s not sleeping— shall I keep going?” She crosses her arms, her voice edged with a mixture of concern and frustration. This whole thing just makes her mad. She hates seeing her favorite people hurt like this, consumed by a storm of emotions that threatens to engulf them both.

“Oh, did you know she cries herself to sleep every night?” she adds, her voice trembling with a mix of hurt and vulnerability, as if she’s revealing a secret that should have remained buried.

Jimin’s breath catches at her revelation, his eyes widening in shock. “I didn’t know,” he admits, his voice tinged with guilt and regret.

“Listen, I don’t know why she can’t talk to you,” Jessi continues, her tone a blend of frustration and concern. “But having Deiji around makes it incredibly tough for her— and I’m not suggesting you abandon her or your future child. However, finding a balance that allows space for my sister without causing her this kind of pain might be worth considering.”

“But she’s made it clear she’s not ready for kids,” Jimin murmurs, his voice barely audible over the increasingly rough terrain.

“It’s not just any kid, Jimin, it’s hers, for heaven’s sake! Can’t you see the weight of that?” she practically scolds him, her voice firm and resounding with frustration.

Jimin is rendered speechless—his mind swirling with conflicting emotions, leaving him utterly at a loss for words.

“You really hurt her when you started dating Deiji, you know. When you shut her out, assuming she was with Yoongi,” she adds, her voice laced with a raw intensity, fighting for you, voicing the unspoken turmoil you’re grappling with. “She loves you deeply, but I’m certain Deiji triggers memories she’d rather bury.” She pivots back, her tone searing with frustration. “And why the fuck would you do that? Why couldn’t you just talk to her?”

Jimin’s gaze locks onto hers, his eyes widening with a mixture of remorse and vulnerability, as if on the brink of tears. “I know I behaved poorly. I—I don’t know, I was just consumed by jealousy. I know I was petty.”

Jessi nods, her expression softening with empathy. “See, you were jealous and didn’t speak to her. Now she’s jealous and doesn’t speak to you. Do you see a pattern here?” Her words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of truth, urging Jimin to confront the echoes of his own actions.

Jimin nods, his heart heavy with a mix of gratitude and remorse, appreciating both the insight and the gentle reprimand from Jessi.

“Now. If you don’t get your shit together and talk to her, I’m going to ask your little brother to beat your ass up,” she teases, a playful grin lighting up her face. Her hand finds its way to his thigh, a reassuring squeeze emphasizing her point. “But seriously, she’s going to be alright, and you’re going to talk to her.”

Jungkook’s laughter fills the truck cabin, and Jimin nervously bites his lip, but he nods in acknowledgment to your sister’s words. He’s well aware that he needs to have that conversation with you, even though attempts in the past have been met with avoidance on your part. It’s clear that seeing Deiji has been a trigger for you, and the realization hits him hard. He's caused you so much pain, put you through hell, and it's a weight he can't bear. This isn’t how it should be, and he knows he needs to find a way to make things right.

As the rain continues to pour relentlessly, the passage of time becomes a blur, lost in the rhythm of the storm pounding against the truck's windshield.

“Have you had any luck?” Jessi’s voice crackles through the walkie talkie, a lifeline in the storm, as she eagerly seeks any sign of hope or progress.

“Not yet.” Yoongi's voice cuts through the static, tinged with a hint of frustration, indicating the ongoing struggle and the uncertainty of the situation.

Suddenly, Jimin’s voice crackles with urgency, breaking the tension in the truck. “I think I see something—over there, by that bush!” His finger jabs towards a dark figure, barely discernible amidst the downpour, a beacon of hope in the relentless storm.

Jungkook steers the truck towards the figure, the engine growling with determination. As they draw nearer, their headlights cutting through the rain, the silhouette resolves into a familiar form—there you are, huddled against the elements, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, each tremble echoing their worry.

With a surge of relief, Jessi flips on the walkie talkie, her voice slicing through the storm like a beacon of hope. “We’ve found her!” Her words, charged with emotion, resonate through the static, breaking through the tension like a ray of sunlight through dark clouds.

Yoongi’s voice carries a wave of relief, cutting through the tension like a soothing melody. “Thank god,” he exhales, his words echoing the collective sentiment of the group, a chorus of gratitude amid the storm’s fury.

Despite the lingering heat, your body trembles, a stark contrast to the relentless downpour that now subsides, replaced by a calm silence broken only by the soft patter of raindrops.

In the distance, headlights cut through the gloom, bouncing over the rugged landscape, gradually growing larger and clearer. As the familiar black truck draws near, a wave of relief floods your weary and trembling form, soothing your frayed nerves.

The truck grinds to a halt just a stone’s throw away, and in an instant, three figures spill out onto the rain-soaked earth: Jungkook, your steadfast sister, and Jimin, his urgency palpable in every stride.

Jimin sprints to your side with an urgency that echoes his concern, his strides propelled by an undeniable determination. His embrace envelops you, a reassuring anchor amidst the storm. “How are you holding up?” he implores, his voice a blend of worry and relief. You offer a nonchalant shrug, masking the turmoil within. “Could be worse,” you reply, your words betraying the weight of your ordeal.

Your sister’s gaze scans you intently, her eyes mapping every contour, searching for any sign of harm. “What happened?” she inquires, her voice edged with concern. “Mikrokosmos returned without you.” Her words hang in the air, punctuated by the gravity of the situation, each syllable laden with the weight of unanswered questions and looming danger.

“The thunder spooked her and I fell off,” you explain, feeling Jimin’s firm hand pulling you upright. The words spill from your lips, mingling with the pattering rain as you recount the moment of panic and disarray.

“Any injuries?” He inquires, his eyes scanning you with the same meticulous care as your sister had done moments before. Yet, to your relief, there isn’t a single scratch or bruise to be found on your body.

“I-I just feel sore,” you manage, your voice tinged with discomfort, the chill of the rain making your words stutter slightly. Jimin immediately envelops you in his arms once more, leading you gently towards his brother’s truck. Your sister, too, lends her support, her gaze fixed on you with concern. As you glance down, you catch a glimmer from her left hand, and there, amidst the rain, you spot something sparkling.

“What’s that?” You inquire, your voice a mixture of curiosity and exhaustion as they guide you back towards the truck, their arms offering steadying support.

“What?” your sister inquires, her brows furrowing slightly as she holds the door open for you to climb into the backseat.

“That ring on your finger,” you observe, noting the flush creeping up her cheeks. She attempts to conceal her hand, but it’s too late—you’ve already caught sight of it. With gentle insistence, you grasp her hand and bring it closer for inspection. A delicate gold band adorned with a simple white stone gleams in the dim light, its beauty striking you. Glancing at Jungkook, you’re met with a tender expression, silently affirming the significance of the moment.

“You proposed to her?” You inquire, your voice catching on the brink of tears, emotions swirling within you—a mix of overwhelming joy and heartfelt sentiment.

His laughter dances in the air as he admits, “I did,” his grin radiating warmth, all while your sister playfully attempts to wrest her hand from your firm grasp.

“When did this happen?” Inquisitively, you pivot between them, anticipation lacing your voice. Their eyes momentarily break contact, drawn down to the damp earth beneath them, as if searching for the right words amidst the glistening droplets.

“A week ago,” Her admission comes in a hushed tone, tinged with a hint of regret, the weight of secrecy palpable in the air. It's as though the words have been lodged in her throat for days, finally finding release, yet carrying with them the burden of silence she bore for an entire week.

“And you didn’t tell me?” You exhale a mix of disbelief and hurt, your incredulous gaze bouncing between them like a pinball in motion. Reluctantly, you yield to Jimin and your sister's gentle insistence, allowing them to guide you into the shelter of the backseat, away from the relentless downpour. With a comforting presence, Jimin settles beside you, while your sister and Jungkook join you in the truck, cocooning you in a blend of warmth and unspoken apologies.

“We wanted to tell you,” your sister starts, her voice carrying a blend of sincerity and hesitation, mingling with the hum of the engine as Jungkook maneuvers the truck down the hill, steering back towards home.“We just didn’t want to make you sad, so I didn’t wear the ring, until today…” she continues, her eyes betraying a sadness mirrored in your own conflicted emotions. You wrestle with the complexity of her consideration, torn between gratitude for her sensitivity and the ache of your own hidden sorrow. After all, shouldn’t you be thrilled for them? Yet, beneath the surface, your heart echoes with a quieter, more personal ache, one that whispers of your own unspoken battles with sadness and despair.

“Why would you make me sad? It makes me sad that you’ve been hiding it from me,” you lament, a tinge of frustration coloring your words as you grapple with the chill seeping through your sodden attire, clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Each droplet feels like a weight, echoing the heaviness of the withheld truth, leaving you to mire in a mix of emotions, neither warm nor settled.

Sensing your shivers, Jimin swiftly sheds his jacket, enfolding you in its warmth with a tender gesture, a shield against the biting cold that had crept beneath your skin.

“I only wanted to spare you from pain,” your sister’s voice softens, regret lacing each syllable as she meets your gaze, her words heavy with remorse. “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

You nod, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Despite the sadness clouding your heart, you grasp onto the flicker of happiness for your loved ones. It sucks that she didn’t tell you, but you do understand why she did it.

Your gaze shifts to Jimin, a whirlwind of unspoken words swirling within you, a thousand thoughts clamoring for attention. Each thought jostles for prominence, yet amidst the chaos, you find yourself lost in the labyrinth of your own mind, grappling with the weight of unsaid feelings, uncertain where to begin or how to articulate the storm raging within.

“Thank you for the jacket,” Gratitude tumbles from your lips for the jacket, a feeble attempt to bridge the chasm of silence that has grown between you, though its weight feels heavier with unspoken tension. There’s an unfamiliar air, thick with unresolved emotions, a palpable unease that lingers like an unwelcome guest. You’ve been avoiding him, grappling with the aftermath of your decision to end things, haunted by the specter of his past relationship and the fragility of your own heart, torn between the longing for reconciliation and the fear of further heartbreak.

“You’re welcome. And I’m sorry,” Jimin murmurs, his gaze a tender caress as he studies you intently, as if attempting to decipher the intricate layers of your being. You can’t help but wonder if he notices the shadows beneath your eyes, heavier now than before, or if he sees the telltale signs of your daily tears etched upon your swollen, puffy face. Does he perceive the subtle changes in your physique, the way your clothes hang looser, mirroring the weight of your burdened heart? In the depths of his gaze, you question if he glimpses the essence of your soul, the silent yearning for his touch, for the rekindling of his boundless love that once enveloped you in warmth and security.

“What for?” You inquire, a soft sniffle punctuating your words, yet your gaze remains unwavering, locked onto the depths of his captivating brown eyes. In that moment, a wave of longing washes over you, the realization of your own foolishness crashing against the shores of your consciousness. You’ve yearned for him in his absence, now understanding the foolishness of your pride. Love pulses within you, a beacon amidst the stormy seas of doubt, begging the question: shouldn't love be reason enough? Isn't it the only thing that truly matters in the end?

“For treating you so poorly. For every misstep, every hurtful word, every moment of silence that drove a wedge between us, for dating Deiji, for not realizing how much it all has hurt you,” he confesses, his voice a fragile whisper teetering on the edge of remorse. Tears glisten in his eyes, a testament to the depth of his regret. His trembling hand finds solace in the curve of your cheek, tenderly cupping it as if to anchor himself amidst the tempest of his emotions. You yield to his touch, the warmth and softness of his hand a balm to your wounded soul, melting away the barriers that had stood between you, allowing you to surrender to the familiar comfort of his embrace.

“I’ve been unbelievably foolish, and I’m utterly sorry,” his voice catches in his throat, the weight of his remorse evident as a tear breaks free from his lashes, tracing a silent path down his cheek. “I never meant to hurt you like this,” he confesses, each word heavy with regret. “I love you so much,” he whispers, the depth of his affection echoing in the tremor of his voice, a testament to the sincerity of his devotion.

“I know you broke up with me because you’re not ready to have kids, and I completely understand that,” his hand intertwines with yours, a lifeline in the tumult of emotions that swirl between you. His gaze searches yours, seeking understanding, seeking reassurance, perhaps seeking forgiveness. “But I can’t shake the feeling that we belong together— I want you back,” he confesses, his voice a soft plea tinged with hope. “I love you, and I believe in us. I never imagined this path for us, but I truly believe we can navigate it together,” he asserts, his grip on your hand tightening as if to anchor his resolve. “And the child, she’ll have her own home with Deiji,” he adds, a note of reassurance in his voice, as if to alleviate any concerns that lingered in your heart.

“I got your letter,” you murmur, your tone laden with emotion, observing the shock that washes over his face.

“How?” His voice quivers slightly, betraying the turmoil raging within him, and a pang of guilt washes over you as you realize you probably shouldn’t have read the letter, especially since he didn’t give it to you personally.

Your gaze shifts towards Jungkook, and Jimin instinctively follows the direction of your eyes, noting the scuffs, before returning his attention to you. “I meant every word I wrote in it,” he declares, his tone unwavering despite the vulnerability in his eyes.

As you nod, waves of his love wash over you, intertwining with your own affection and flooding your veins with a warmth that knits together the fragments of your once-scattered heart.

Your heart flutters within its cage of ribs, caught in a dance of uncertainty and longing. His words resonate with you, stirring a flicker of hope in the depths of your soul, yet doubt lingers like a shadow at dusk. You’re torn, teetering on the precipice of indecision, but amidst the turmoil, one truth remains steadfast: your love for him burns unwaveringly, an eternal flame that illuminates the darkness of doubt. And in that flicker of certainty, you find solace, trusting that love, in all its complexities, will guide you through the labyrinth of uncertainty.

“Okay.” The word escapes your lips like a fragile whisper, hanging in the air like the delicate balance of a teetering scale. In the ensuing silence that envelops the truck, you observe the shift in Jimin’s expression, his features morphing into a silent query, a question mark etched upon his face, seeking to decipher the weight of your response and the myriad emotions swirling within you.

“What do you mean?” Jimin’s voice breaks the silence, tinged with confusion, his brows furrowing in bewilderment at your curt response. His inquiry hangs in the air, an invitation to unravel the enigma of your brief words, beckoning you to delve deeper into the intricacies of your thoughts and feelings.

“I want us to be together again,” you confess, your gaze locked with his, the shimmer of tears mirroring the depth of his remorse. Yet amidst the regret, his love for you radiates like a beacon, casting aside the shadows of doubt. You can’t deny the intensity of your own affection, a love that courses through your veins, unwavering and undeniable. It’s as if destiny itself has woven your souls together, an unbreakable bond that transcends time and distance, a truth you've known since the moment your eyes first met after all those years apart.

Without hesitation, Jimin closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a fervent embrace. The kiss is hurried, tinged with the salt of his tears, yet you savor every moment, for his touch ignites a fire within you, reigniting the vibrant hues of your world. In the warmth of his embrace, you feel the dull ache of sadness dissipate, replaced by the kaleidoscope of emotions that accompany the return of his affection. It’s as if life’s dull monochrome has been replaced with a symphony of colors, painting your world anew.

Rekindling your relationship with Jimin has been more than just good—it’s been a revival of your soul. With him by your side, you feel whole once more, the missing piece of your heart seamlessly slotting back into place. Despite the challenges that still loom on the horizon, you find solace in the simple truth that you have each other to rely on, to support and uplift in times of need.

As two full moons have passed, the looming prospect of Deiji’s imminent labor hangs heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the complexities that have woven themselves into your life. Despite the passage of time, your disdain for her remains unyielding, fueled by a nagging sense of distrust that refuses to be quelled. You’ve voiced your suspicions to Jimin, laying bare the unsettling behaviors that gnaw at your conscience—her reluctance to reveal the results of the paternity test, the cryptic details surrounding her medical appointments, the sudden refusal to allow Jimin to accompany her, especially after your request to see the test results. With each revelation, Jimin’s eyes begin to open to the unsettling truth lurking beneath Deiji’s facade.

A creeping suspicion takes root within you, whispering the unsettling possibility that Deiji’s claims may be nothing more than elaborate fabrications. The thought lingers like a shadow in your mind, casting doubt upon the foundation of your reality. While a part of you entertains the notion that perhaps she never carried Jimin’s child at all, the implications of such deceit weigh heavily upon your conscience. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, the idea that unraveling her web of lies could potentially simplify your life, yet the thought of the devastation it would bring to Jimin is a sobering reminder of the delicate balance between truth and consequence.

In the face of adversity, you and Jimin are actively striving to strengthen your communication skills, recognizing the tendency to retreat into your own worlds when challenges arise. Both of you understand the paramount importance of articulating your thoughts and feelings openly and honestly, realizing that true connection and understanding can only flourish in the fertile soil of effective communication.

And so, you find yourself once more within the comforting confines of his home, the tantalizing aroma of dinner wafting through the air, stirring your appetite and igniting a sense of eager anticipation. As hungry as you were during your previous visit, this time the atmosphere is charged with a newfound warmth and intimacy, infusing the meal with an extra layer of significance. With each bite, you’re not only nourishing your body but also savoring the love and care that your boyfriend has poured into the culinary creation before you.

“Jimin, this looks absolutely mouthwatering,” you exclaim, your fork poised eagerly above the food, ready to indulge in the culinary masterpiece before you.

“Thanks, I hope it tastes as good as it looks,” he replies, a radiant smile gracing his features as he joins you in savoring the meal he's prepared with care.

The first bite is an explosion of flavors on your palate, a symphony of tastes that dance and mingle, leaving you craving more. It’s a culinary masterpiece, each ingredient harmonizing perfectly to create a sensation that delights every sense. This incredible man’s cooking never fails to amaze, leaving you in awe of his talent and grateful for the privilege of tasting his creations.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” he interjects between bites, his expression thoughtful as he pauses to address the topic weighing on his thoughts.

Locked in a gaze brimming with boundless affection, you find yourself lost in the depths of his eyes, a silent exchange of love and understanding passing between you. With a gentle nod, you encourage him to continue, your heart swelling with anticipation for the words he’s about to share.

“I’ve been thinking about the arrival of the baby,” he begins, his eyes alight with curiosity, sparking a smile to bloom across your face in response. “Do you think we should prepare a special room for her? And where do you think she should be sleeping?”

“I believe she should start off in our room, close to us, but later she can get her own room” you propose, a smile gracing your lips as you envision the cozy arrangement.

“Hmm. Good idea. Thank you for being so cool about it and wanting to do it with me,” he expresses, his eyes shimmering with affection as he extends his hand across the table, silently inviting you to join him in this journey.

You cover his hand with yours, gently tracing circles on his skin as you speak softly, “I don’t know if I’d call it being cool, but I’m doing my best to navigate this new territory.” Despite the uncertainty looming ahead, you offer him a reassuring smile, knowing that embarking on this co-parenting journey will undoubtedly present challenges. Yet, with Jimin by your side, you feel a sense of strength and reassurance, a reminder that together, you can weather any storm.

“Well, thank you. It means everything to me,” he murmurs, his voice laden with gratitude as he leans across the table, closing the gap between you to plant a tender kiss on your lips.

You draw back slightly, your hands tenderly cradling his face, locking eyes with him as you whisper, “I love you, Jimin,” the words carrying the weight of your devotion and the promise of forever.

A warm smile graces his lips in response to your declaration, a silent acknowledgment of the deep love you share. Returning to your meal, a comfortable silence descends upon you both, enveloping you like a soft embrace, a tranquil refuge from the chaos of the world outside.

Raising your gaze, you wait patiently for his eyes to meet yours, the urgency of your words evident in your expression. “I truly believe you need to have a conversation with Deiji,” you urge, a sense of unease settling in your stomach. “There’s something off about all of this, something I can’t quite decipher,” you add, your voice laced with concern and the unspoken weight of intuition.

Jimin nods solemnly, his brows furrowing in concern. “You’re right. It’s been bothering me too. She’s been unresponsive to my texts lately,” he admits, his voice tinged with apprehension and a growing sense of unease.

“Perhaps it’s time to pay her a visit and have a heart-to-heart conversation,” you propose, a gentle smile gracing your lips.

“That sounds like a good idea,” he responds eagerly, his eyes alight with determination. With a renewed sense of purpose, you both continue to savor the meal, engaging in light-hearted conversation as you contemplate the impending discussion with Deiji.

For an entire week, communication between you and Jimin has been scarce, lost amidst the whirlwind of chores and responsibilities that accompany life on your respective ranches. From dawn till dusk, your days blur together with the relentless tasks of sheep shearing, cattle herding, and countless other duties demanding your attention. Exhaustion seeps into your bones, leaving little energy for anything beyond the essential exchanges of ‘goodbye’ and ‘good morning’ shared over the phone, a stark reminder of the physical and emotional toll of your demanding lifestyles.

Tonight is one of those nights when every muscle in your body aches with weariness, longing for the soothing touch of Jimin’s hands to unravel the knots of tension and stress that cling stubbornly to your frame. The thought of sinking into the warm embrace of his oversized bathtub offers a glimmer of solace amidst the weariness, a sanctuary where the trials of ranch life can be temporarily forgotten. Despite feeling battered and bruised, the exhaustion of the day weighs heavy upon you, dragging you into the welcoming arms of sleep within mere minutes.

You’re unsure of how long you’ve been lost in slumber, but a peculiar scent and an eerie sound stir you from your rest. As consciousness slowly returns, your head feels heavy and your senses are muddled, the faint aroma of something resembling a campfire teasing your nostrils. The source of the scent eludes you, shrouded in the fog of fatigue that clouds your mind, as the haunting creak of wood contracting fills the air, sending a shiver down your spine.

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 💜 Remember the Q&A that is coming in the Epilogue— if you want to send in some questions for the characters, you can do it now (and later too) → Ask the characters (or me), anything ❣️

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

#jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #my heart's home series #reader: female #au: cowboy #au: ranch #au: soulmates #au: childhood friends #au: friends to lovers #au: slice of life #theme: summer #vibe: smutty #vibe: romcom #vibe: angst #vibe: fluffy

35 notes · View notes

aconflagrationofmyown · 7 months

Note

You’ve definitely become one of my favorite Elvis writers on here, Marina.

And I wanted to ask you, are you planning to do more Elvis series? Like a series of Hollywood!Elvis, where he fights to be a serious actor and falls in love with one his co-stars. Or more Elvis AU, since we already have Pirate!Elvis. For example Cowboy!Elvis. Spy!Elvis like a James Bond or Agent Elvis. Mafia!Elvis. Even a Superhero!Elvis.

I think you’d do such a good job bringing all those concepts to life 🤭

My sweet anon, thank you so much, what a kind thing to say, I’m so glad my writing has brought you joy. 💋🌸💋 As for AU’s I did start a series about Hollywood E, yet never finished it. And for now I’ve got riverboat Captain E and father figure E to chew and that’s a lot on its own…but never say never. I think this would be something I’d have to have pitched to me and see if it resonates? So far I’ve not fully cooked up anything else original that hasn’t been done better by others. I’m always happy to dish out recs, fyi.

BUT THAT SAID…I’m messing around with little snippets, a filthy fairytale in collaboration with @elvisabutler and this demented Regency Elvis headcanon below that “my sexy secretary” @ab4eva took down from a chat. Enjoy…

I Bet on Losing Dogs -🥀 A Regency Elvis Blurb

18+ blurb, warning sexual content ahead, arranged marriage, romance novella style stuff

Imagine this: Regency Elvis whose wife has recently left him for a foreigner, taking with her his only child -a daughter who cannot inherit. He needs an heir.

Zero promises of love or fidelity or even bare respect for his new wife but…there’ll be position and status and jewels so long as you perform your wifely duties without complaint.

Jaded and lonely, I need freshly betrayed Elvis buying off a nobleman for his daughter, a Baron who’s mortgaged his estate for debts, Mr. Presley gets the association with your family’s nobility and you get the much needed wealth that new money brings.

And so your new husband comes in nightly in an embroidered robe and a solitary lit candle to consummate your union. He’s got all that chest hair displayed and a lil ponch of a belly showing out his robe as he slowly undoes the tie every night, never rushed, and you can feel the jitters down to your toes every time as you hug the sheet to your chin.

*Let go, Darlin,* he’s always murmuring as he pulls the sheet from your grip, *must do what needs done*

He fucks you hard and fast for such a delicate woman and then tosses you spending money to make up for it.

Reminds you after each visit to yoru chambers that you have a job to do. One single job.

*Gimme that son and maybe you’ll get that sea bathin’ ya been hankerin’ for*

(Elvis is from Yorkshire if he was ever transported to an English Setting AU, ok? No question, unless the question is Irish versus Yorkish)

Each time, when he finishes and pants into the humid crook of your neck, his hand blindly strokes away your tears and he whispers in gravelly apology, *I’ll leave ya alone, moment ya start to swell, I swear it, I’ll leave ya alone lil girl*

But that’s not why you’re crying, you wish he’d stay, he doesn’t know how cold you get when he leaves you and his sweat and spend cools on your skin and leaves you shivering.

You could curse the woman who laid here before you, who broke his heart and still haunts this place, like the wall opposite the bed with its outline of a portrait missing on the sun-bleached wall.

You wonder what she looked like, this missing wife.

You wonder if she secretly craved the burning stretch of him like you do, possibly not if she left for someone more…continental. Was he too voracious for her? Or was it the loneliness that finally ate her through like the moths who try the same with the bed canopy.

One night, Mr. Presley’s hand slips from your shoulder down to your breast, very rarely does he maul you there except in his direst paroxysms of pleasure, but tonight he slips and grabs and it’s so sore you nearly cry aloud from the ache.

*I swear I’ll leave ya be* he had said and you bite your lip savagely, cinch your corsets cruelly and wonder how to make him love you, tolerate you even. Anything so that you’re not left alone like he promises.

Are your breasts sore from being with child? You worry so.

So the next night you scheme, and when he shakes atop you and catches his breath and makes to roll away, you grab hold of him and keep him close.

*Six months* you murmur, and he seems confused by your meaning, *six month’s you’ve visited me nightly save for menses and Lent, and no child to show for it. Won’t you stay? Nurse says if the man remains…after…the chances are greater.*

Ensuing cockwarming between two people who’ve barely spoken outside of bed…little chats…because neither can sleep and in fact, he doesn’t really sleep that much at all, he admits.

*what do you do then? At nights?* you ask.

He reads a lot, he tells you and he’s got a telescope, and you tentatively ask if he’ll read to you.

He agrees with a shy *i-if ya want that, I will*

About the books. You asks if he will tonight instead of leaving and he says yes.

Then he hesitates and asks lowly, *can we…once more?…before?*

He asks if he can do it again, before he grabs the books, because he firmed up again while acting as a stopper in your warm cunt.

You’re already a wet mess down there and perhaps he moves you around, spoons you.

Puts himself back in and you’re so wet from what he gave you before and your excitement at the intimacy you feel in this movement.

And due to the difference in angle, for the first time, you actually come from the feeling of your husband inside you. His flaming hot body behind you, his thick arms wrapped around your body, the delicious rub of him in your womb.

And you’re quite sure you’ve already made a child but he doesn’t need to know. Not yet.

Anything to keep him coming back.

#elvis presley #regency Elvis #elvis fanfiction #Elvis blurb #elvis fanfic #Elvis smut #regency #bridgerton #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis #mine

75 notes · View notes

eleanorfenyxwrites · 9 months

Text

Outta Time

So @littlesmartart and I discovered that we both love Orville Peck, and I decided it might be nice to write Western Cowboy shit that isn't the Brokeback Mountain AU so here's this 😂 Inspired by Orville Peck's song 'Outta Time' from the album Bronco (Jess came up with the plot, I wrote it, and she's drawn art to go along with it for the visual that's directly inspired by the song [and that was all I had in mind for this before she came up with the plot lol]!)

--//--

It was, perhaps, foolishness on Meng Yao’s part to think that Huaisang was telling him nothing but the unvarnished truth when he’d invited him to head out West with him for a luxury vacation, set to last the entirety of their summer break.

“It’ll be like one of those fancy retreats silly rich people go on!” he’d insisted (as if he isn’t mind-bogglingly ridiculous and wealthier than Meng Yao could ever hope of being [considering he’s only just recently been forced to accept he’ll never see a single iota of his father’s support, emotionally or financially]). “Trust me!”

Mistake number 1 had been saying, “Alright A-Sang, I trust you.”

Mistake number 2 : being a man of his word.

Within a month of receiving Huaisang’s invitation, summer arrives with rolling peals of thunder heralding oppressive humidity and swarms of mosquitos. Meng Yao, a man of his word as stated, dutifully packs most of his belongings into a suitcase that weighs far less than the upper limit of the airline’s luggage weight restriction and navigates the pair of them through the airport with minimal stress, mainly thanks to not allowing Huaisang to be in charge of anything at all.

He chats with Huaisang on and off throughout their flight to keep himself distracted from the fact that he’s leaving behind everything he’s ever known to spend three months in the middle of bumfuck nowhere at his only friend’s brother's ranch, which Huaisang had only told him the full truth about yesterday, after it was already far too late to gracefully back out. Meng Yao’s promised luxury vacation destination is apparently in actuality a cattle ranch that Huaisang’s brother apparently runs mostly to keep himself in shape and avoid the stress of city life that had given him a heart attack at the ripe old age of 27 a few years back. (It is, by far, the weirdest ‘so I have this older brother’ story that Meng Yao has ever heard.)

“So this brother of yours –” Meng Yao finally caves and asks about an hour before final descent.

“Uh-huh?”

“He just…up and left New York. For Montana?”

“Yep,” Huaisang pops the ‘p’ and flicks to the next page in his magazine, unbothered, “After his heart attack he said he wanted to see some mountains and get some actual fresh air if he was just going to die soon anyway, it really dramatic and maudlin, which he never is, I was so proud. Only it turns out it was exactly what he needed to not die, so after a while he decided he would just stay out there for good. He bought the house and the land and some horses to give himself something to do besides stare at the sky all day, and then he was still kind of bored so he bought some cattle.”

Naturally. As one does.

“And now he’s…a cattle rancher. From New York City.”

Huaisang laughs and finally looks up from his magazine to smile at Meng Yao like ‘oh you sweet little thing’ in the way Meng Yao kind of hates, but Huaisang does it to everyone so he can’t really take too much offense.

“Yes, Yaoyao, you’ll understand when you meet him! Da-ge’s never really been a city guy, not like us. It suits him much better to be out here, especially since his best friend moved out here to help him out. Xichen-ge treats it like a meditation retreat but with a lot more mucking out stalls. He says even that part’s therapeutic, but I’m just going to take his word on that one, ‘cause ew.”

“Uh-huh.”

Huaisang leaves him to consider just what the hell he’s gotten himself into for the rest of the flight, and then they’re navigating their way (ridiculously easily) through the rinky-dink airport hardly bigger than a parking garage, the sky beyond the terminal windows blue blue blue where it stretches on forever in every direction.

“Da-ge!”

Meng Yao barely manages to snag Huaisang’s duffel when his friend flings it off his shoulder to go sprinting across the 3-carousel baggage claim, the fastest Meng Yao has ever seen him move. It’s a distinct relief that Meng Yao can use juggling their bags as an excuse to approach at a much more respectable pace; he needs the extra time to truly digest what he’s seeing.

Huaisang, as a former-model-turned-fasion-designer who happily calls himself a fruit at every opportunity, is one of the daintiest men Meng Yao has ever met. He’d even go so far as to call him a dandy, if pressed, and fully supports his friend’s decision to call himself every ‘emasculating’ label under the sun with obvious relish. He can’t deny that at least some of his confusion as to his best friend’s mysterious older brother’s chosen lifestyle stemmed from picturing someone like Huaisang, if perhaps a little taller.

He’s not confused anymore.

The man who catches Huaisang midair and swings him in a circle before setting him back on his feet would never be asked to grace the runways of New York — not because he isn’t beautiful enough to make Meng Yao’s fingers twitch for his camera to capture the way the sun cuts across his weather-tanned face, but because no one has ever heard of a fashion model who was roughly 6’7” and perhaps 300 pounds of solid, clearly functional muscle.

Huaisang’s brother towers over everyone else in the building that Meng Yao can see (and he can see most of them, re: rinky-dink airport in the middle of bumfuck Montana), and when he looks over the heads of the few people between Meng Yao and the exit their eyes lock instantly.

“A-Sang, be nicer to your friend,” Meng Yao can hear from here, a bass rumble that Does Things to his chest. “Go get your bag, don’t make your guest carry your shit or he’ll think I never taught you decent manners. Go on.”

Huaisang flutters back over and takes his bag with an unapologetic grin. Meng Yao finishes taking the ten-odd steps necessary for the brother to stick his hand out with a wry little smirk and say, “Hey, I’m Mingjue.”

“Meng Yao,” he replies and slides his hand into Mingjue’s dry, work-calloused palm.

“Welcome to big sky country, A-Yao,” Mingjue replies with a widening smile, a flash of straight white teeth and a dimple hiding under his mustache, and Meng Yao regrets to say that he’s thoroughly fucked.

–//–

The land unfolds around them as they drive down straight roads at an almost leisurely pace through miles and miles of…nothing.

Not nothing, Meng Yao supposes, but long gone are the corridors of towering skyscrapers, the lingering miasma of so many people living together in tight quarters, everyone building up up up to stack ever-more people into the same few square miles. Meng Yao understands, suddenly, why Mingjue had come here and stayed. He doesn’t think he has it in him to eschew all the conveniences of New York City for the open country, but someone like Mingjue seems like the type to appreciate having the space to…expand. To be bigger than life and have the room to do it in. He certainly feels larger than life at the moment as he details for Huaisang all the comings and goings on the ranch since he’d last visited, as he talks about the horses and his cattle and the monsoon rains they’d apparently only just missed that had finally turned everything summer-green.

Meng Yao sits on the bench seat of Mingjue’s beat up old pickup truck and watches the sparse scattering of fluffy white clouds drift over more sky than he’s ever seen in his life and he gets it.

He hasn’t gotten nearly enough of his fill of marveling (subtly) over the view by the time they pull off the road onto a dirt road that Huaisang tells him is actually Mingjue’s driveway, but he contents himself with the knowledge that they’re here for three months, he’ll have plenty of time to appreciate the view later. They rattle over a few metal grates Mingjue explains are cattle guards to keep the animals from escaping the ranch should they manage to break out of their pastures, and Meng Yao isn’t a child so he doesn’t exclaim about how fucking huge the cattle are some distance away from the road where they’re grazing (but he certainly rethinks his half-baked desire to see them up close anytime soon).

“Home sweet home,” Mingjue announces when they reach the end of the lane after another mile or two and opens his door with a creak. Meng Yao leans forward to look up at the house through his lashes and must not be able to control his expression as much as he’d prefer as Huaisang chuckles at him a little, nudging him in the side with his pointy little elbow.

“Told you it was nice,” he chirps and slides across the seat to get out on the driver’s side. “Da-ge be careful!” he trills, his nervous fretting muffled as he scurries around to the bed of the truck. Meng Yao doesn’t pay attention to their bickering or the scuffle of hard-soled boots on dirt, though his attention is snagged at least a bit by the sound of Mingjue laughing at whatever he’s just done to make Huaisang whine at him.

The house is beautiful, is the thing. Somehow he hadn’t thought that it would be, perhaps owing to how many times he’s listened to Huaisang complain about his brother’s lack of taste for anything even remotely fashionable. He should really stop assuming things about Mingjue, he supposes, considering he’s currently scored 0 for 2, and he hates to lose.

He gets out of the car, finally, to better appreciate white-washed wood paneling just beginning to show hints of weathering, blue shutters clearly freshly painted the same shade of the sky overhead with the front door painted to match. There are rocking chairs on the wraparound porch, clearly well-loved if the flattened, sun-faded cushions on them are anything to judge by, positioned to face west. He has a sudden mental image of Mingjue sitting out here in the evenings to watch the sunset over the mountains looming in the distance and has to shake himself all over once (discreetly) to keep from sticking himself in the chair next to him in this little pastoral fantasy. That’s just making it weird.

“You want the grand tour or you wanna settle in?” Mingjue asks; Meng Yao doesn’t jump to find himself standing next to his host he hadn’t heard approaching, but he does feel suddenly…shy in a way he’s definitely not used to. He tilts his head enough to squint up at Mingjue, the sun too bright in his eyes, and finds to his dismay that he’s still just as handsome as he’d been an hour ago.

“I want you to give him the tour!” Huaisang calls from where he’s petting a horse (an actual horse, but are they supposed to be that tall??) that’s come up to the fence at the other end of the front yard, such as it is, to duck down and nose at Huaisang like an old friend.

“I don’t care what you want, you little brat,” Mingjue calls back. “And don’t you dare give that beast whatever candy you’ve got in your pockets, do you know how long it took to train him out of biting people who didn’t give him any after you left?!”

Meng Yao hides a smile behind his hand and finds himself mostly glad that there’s someone else around now to be the recipient of Huaisang’s incessant whining when he’s really putting on a performance. He clears his throat a little and schools his expression back towards pleasant neutrality when Mingjue looks down at him again, clearly unwilling to entertain his brother’s antics a moment longer than necessary.

“I think I’d like to settle in first,” he allows himself to say, and is perhaps mildly startled when Mingjue doesn’t question it, when he simply nods and lets Meng Yao be that tiny bit selfish.

“Come on in then, your room’s upstairs.”

Meng Yao follows Mingjue inside out of the sun and finds himself surrounded by an eclectic mix of antiques and modern minimalism; framed photos and bric-a-brac piled up in out-of-the-way corners of sleek monochrome shelves hemmed in on every side by enormous, dense furniture of the sort that reminds him of a time at least half a century ago, if not longer. The result is antiquated in a charming way with enough touches of modernity that he doesn’t think Mingjue is necessarily out of touch, just pragmatic about his home. If something old will still do, why replace it? It’s a mentality Meng Yao can appreciate, and he finds himself smiling a little again as he trails behind Mingjue up the stairs and down the short hallway to the room in the back corner.

“Here you go,” Mingjue says and slings both Meng Yao’s and Huaisang’s bags off his shoulder, which is precisely when Meng Yao realizes he’d been carrying their luggage in one hand like it weighs nothing. He notices it, allows himself two seconds to admire it, and promptly tucks that little tidbit away for future consideration. Later.

“I’ll be around, just holler if you need anything. I’m sure A-Sang will be in to bother you once he’s finished saying hi to the herd, I’ll let you enjoy the quiet while you’ve got it.”

“Thanks, Mingjue,” Meng Yao says with a smile, and it might be a moment of wishful thinking, or just his imagination, but he swears he sees Mingjue’s gaze drop to his mouth for a beat too long before the man nods and retreats. Meng Yao has no way to know if the flush on the back of Mingjue’s neck is from the sun or, maybe, something else.

–//–

Huaisang does come inside eventually, and though he has his own unpacking to do Meng Yao isn’t surprised at all when his friend comes to his room first to flop onto his bed and promptly make himself at home to start bugging him.

(He wouldn’t want or expect anything different.)

As Meng Yao hangs up shirts and trousers with far more care than they probably need, Huaisang regales him with stories from other trips to the ranch and a quick run-down of the personalities of the horses Mingjue keeps, both his own and some he boards for others who can’t keep their own animals for whatever reason. Meng Yao makes enough leading, noncommittal noises to keep his friend chattering as he settles in, though the chatter becomes decidedly less pleasant as far as background noise goes when Huaisang starts talking about getting Meng Yao to socialize.

Within moments it’s clear he already has a plan on how to do so, because of course he does, and of course it’s some stranger’s houseparty where Meng Yao will know absolutely no one at all.

“Absolutely not, Huaisang,” he says tartly, but of course Huaisang only takes that as an invitation to persuade him.

“This isn’t like parties back home, A-Yao, I promise!” he wheedles. Meng Yao just goes on unpacking his meager belongings into the antique dresser in the corner of his room that holds a window overlooking the equipment-littered space between the back porch and the horse barn, and he very pointedly does not rise to Huaisang’s bait. He’s still not immune to his best friend’s cajoling and they both know it, but he feels the need to deny him a little longer for the sake of his pride, if nothing else.

“Nothing here is like home, Huaisang, your argument is invalid,” he replies blithely and debates the merit of hanging his undershirts in the too-big closet with the rest of his clothes, rather than folding them up into a too-big drawer where they’ll just look sad on their own.

“Okay point taken, but seriously! You’ll have a nice time, it’ll be chill, I swear. Xichen-ge is coming, and he never goes anywhere things will get out of hand!”

A party tempting enough to interest Huaisang is typically guaranteed to be anything but ‘chill’, he doesn’t point out, but…well. Meng Yao had just said it himself — nothing here so far is like what they’ve come from, maybe Huaisang’s different here too. Maybe a party’s really not such a bad idea. And if it is, Mingjue, having already overheard Huaisang mentioning the party on his way past Meng Yao’s room with a load of clean laundry in his arms, has already made it very clear that he’s happy to either loan them his truck for the night or else drive them himself. Considering Meng Yao has no interest in drinking so much he wouldn’t be able to drive (because he, unlike his best friend, is a very functional city gay who can drive, thank you very much) it’s a guaranteed exit strategy, should he feel the need to escape.

Meng Yao ignores Huaisang’s pleading eyes for a few moments longer simply for the fun of it as he slides his undershirts onto clattering plastic hangers, and only smiles once his back is turned as Huaisang shouts his delight when Meng Yao sighs, “Well…I guess I’ve got nowhere better to go.”

–//–

This time, Huaisang did tell him the unvarnished truth.

It’s clear from the moment they pull up in the warm violet twilight that this party is nothing like the ones they frequent back home. It’s in someone’s actual house, for one, which he supposes isn’t too strange when not being hosted in a city made entirely of apartments and highrises, but the house itself is in the middle of a giant patch of…nothing. It’s just a house on a dirt lot full of pickup trucks in various stages of rusting, with lights strung everywhere possible on the wraparound porch (except that it’s not really a porch so much as it is a prefabricated metal roof over part of the patch of dirt and sparse grass ‘yard’). He’s pretty sure he even sees a barn lit up the same way some few hundred feet behind the house, but he can’t get a good look at it from here and decides to put it out of his mind.

“Let me know if you end up needing the truck,” Mingjue says over the sound of twanging guitar coming from someone’s massive speakers as they hop down (well he steps down out of the truck like he’s just crossing a threshold; Meng Yao and Huaisang are too vertically challenged to get down out of the thing without at least a little hop). “I’m gonna head in to grab a beer, you two want anything?”

“We’re good, da-ge!” Huaisang chirps, already eyeing up a cluster of guys all dressed nearly identically in tight jeans and threadbare flannels with the sleeves cut off and the resulting gaping holes fraying artlessly, with the main differentiating factor between them being if they’re wearing cowboy hats or baseball caps. Meng Yao glances between his options — Huaisang’s all-too-familiar thirsting over extremely lackluster men who don’t deserve him and Mingjue’s retreating figure carving a path through the crowd — and decides to take his chances with the latter, though he hangs back a little to give Mingjue space.

The house, when he steps inside, at least smells pretty much like what he’s used to at parties. Too many competing colognes and perfumes, the sticky sweetness of alcohol, and the haze of cigarette smoke are almost comforting like this, even as he promptly gets lost amongst the sprawling, dimly-lit rooms crowded with strangers nursing beers or chatting (read: feeling) each other up in dim corners. He finds a staircase in the middle of the house and uses it to orient himself as he wanders in several clockwise circles until he’s mapped out the living room, the den, the kitchen where he snags a beer from the 6’5” cowboy (he’s assuming he’s a cowboy based on the hat and the whole ‘house party on a farm in Montana’ thing) standing at the keg, the door to the back ‘porch’ that’s about as porch-like as the one out front, and an overcrowded room that seems to serve no purpose but to be a place to play beer pong.

He’s just circled his way back to the front door near the stairs once again when he finds his path blocked by someone turned away from him; someone broad and tall and wearing pale blue, which just seems like a mistake when any moment could end in spilled beer and flustered mopping up with a crumpled handful of napkins, perhaps even the removal of said shirt to get it in the upstairs bathroom sink to soak out the stain before it sets —

Alright so it’s been a while and a man has needs, especially when surrounded by ridiculously tall beefcakes on every side. Sue him.

Rather than spilling his shitty beer on this guy to see if he can get him to take his shirt off, Meng Yao clears his throat and taps the guy on his waist once, just the lightest touch of two fingers to body-warmed cotton, and the guy turns smoothly, an apology already on his lips.

“Oh, excuse me,” he says, hardly audible over the music jangling from the beer pong room. Meng Yao tilts his head back a bit — and then a bit more — to meet the guy’s gaze and he’s startled to find he’s also Asian. It takes him roughly three seconds to put two-and-two together when the guy smiles at him like he knows him and ducks down to talk a little closer. Meng Yao makes a conscious decision to stay very still to let him do it.

“Might you be Meng Yao?” he asks and Meng Yao can only nod dumbly. “Mingjue sent me to find you, would you like to come sit with us? Da-ge’s great for commandeering the couch at these things.”

Sitting down sounds great, Meng Yao thinks, especially when the crowd shifts enough for him to catch sight of the ratty old sofa in the living room to find Mingjue currently occupying it alone, manspread more than far enough to make it clear that no one else is sitting on that couch unless he invites them (and he doesn’t look like he’s in a particularly inviting mood).

“Are you sure?” Meng Yao asks, wary, but the man (who must be Mingjue’s best friend, Xichen) just smiles at him again and tips his head in that direction, gesturing vaguely with one of his bottles of beer as if for emphasis.

“Of course! Come on, you’ve had a long day of traveling and I wanted to apologize for not being able to meet you at the house this afternoon. Just sit with us for a while, we’ll introduce you around later if you want us to.”

Meng Yao finds it a pretty tough proposition to say no to so he just nods again and gestures with his own beer (in a stereotypical red Solo cup he’d been amused to receive) for Xichen to lead the way. It isn’t so far that Meng Yao worries about losing him in the crowd, really, but he doesn’t let that stop him from hooking an index finger through the center back belt loop on Xichen’s skin-tight jeans, ‘just in case’. Xichen simply smiles at him over his shoulder as they pass through the nearly-black front hallway and into the scarcely-brighter living room, red Christmas lights around the ceiling and the overhead bulb in the kitchen through the other doorway the only lighting for the entire room.

“Hey, there you are,” Mingjue says as they approach, and though he swings one knee closer to straight in front of himself to manspread a little less he leaves his arm slung casually along the top of the back cushions, reaching up with his free hand to snag the beer Xichen had brought for him and taking a swig of it as Xichen joins him.

On the opposite end of the couch.

Meng Yao hides behind a sip of his own flat beer quickly warming to room temperature as he contemplates the small (small) space between them and, between one disappointing sip and the next, decides he’s feeling reckless enough after a long day of new things and the freedom of traveling so many miles from home that he’s just going to go for it, and fuck the consequences.

Xichen slings his arm over the rest of the back of the couch, fingertips brushing lightly against Mingjue’s elbow where they overlap. Meng Yao sits down right in between them, settles in, and pointedly ignores the way the tired old couch springs squeak in protest of their combined weight and how he seems to pull the other two in like a magnet. It’s like gravity, centers of balance shifting and leaning inwards into his orbit, the pair of them bracketing him on either side, parentheses made of denim and muscle and smiling mouths that he pretends not to notice creeping closer as they keep finding excuses to lean in closer over the course of the next few minutes, not at all subtle. They drift in, in, in to talk to him over the music until they’re both practically kissing him on the cheeks just to be heard as they chat about nothing much at all.

Meng Yao finishes his beer and lets Xichen take the empty cup from him to set aside, and when he leans back in even closer than a moment before, Meng Yao offers him a coy little smile of the sort that’s weakened tougher men than Xichen seems to be and drops his newly-freed hand on his knee, mirroring the caress on Mingjue’s knee with his free hand on the other side.

It would be more than accurate to say that Xichen melts like butter — melts so obviously, in fact, that Mingjue laughs at him, hides it in Meng Yao’s shoulder, and seems to need no further excuse to just set up camp there so he can start nuzzling the tip of his nose into the crook of Meng Yao’s neck until he’s shivering pleasantly and feeling very much like the cat that got the cream.

Huaisang was right — this has never happened to him in New York, but he’s perfectly happy that it’s happening to him now.

–//–

Nie Huaisang isn’t the type to say ‘I told you so’ in so many words, mostly because he doesn’t actually say what he’s really thinking in the first place.

But if he were the type, he’d be saying it right now to anyone who would listen as he sips at a beer some jumped-up bull rider pressed into his hand with enough flustered used-to-be-definitely-absolutely-straight-but-now-he’s-confused flirting that Huaisang had given him an extra kiss or three to apologize for giving him a little sexuality crisis.

Maybe it’s weird for him to be so pleased to see his brother and his brother’s live-in-something tag teaming Huaisang’s own best friend, but, well. Meng Yao works way too hard for very little in return, and Huaisang thinks he deserves nice things. He’s certainly not immune to the ample charms of his brother’s farmer/rancher neighbors at least for a hazy summer, and he’d known that Meng Yao wouldn’t be able to resist either no matter how many fuck-off-I’m-totally-independent vibes he gives off when they’re back home.

Naturally if Meng Yao weren’t interested in sex Huaisang would leave him alone about it, but since he’s not he’d known perfectly well that there would be no resisting not one but two handsome men who could throw him over their shoulders as easily as they do bales of hay or sheep that need shearing. So, to that effect — the scene in front of him. Huaisang watches just long enough to see Xichen turn Meng Yao’s face to his with a gentle finger under his chin to coax him in for a kiss where they’re snuggled up all three together on the couch and then makes his escape to find his own fun for the night.

It’s already looking like it’s going to be quite the summer, and Huaisang basks in the pleasure of a plan well-executed with no one the wiser.

#the untamed fanfic #3zun #Modern AU #Orville Peck Cinematic Universe #officially the name of this universe (because there will definitely be more) lol #3zun but make them cattle ranchers because why not #Nie Mingjue #Meng Yao #Lan Xichen #Nie Huaisang

86 notes · View notes