#he is pure sunshine ☀️

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

i want to put him in my pocket

#i mean #just look at him?? 🥺 #he's so lovely it hurts #also #given how much his smile lightens my heart just from seeing it through a computer screen i can't IMAGINE the power it wields in person #he is pure sunshine ☀️ #miles kane #miles gifs #my gifs #the last shadow puppets #tlsp #lulu posts

[theoddinarygirl]

It’s been a year since this masterpiece 🤌

#felix #lee felix #skz #stray kids #he’s pure sunshine ☀️

[deadghosy]

I read the one from catnap, now I need dogday

HEADCANNONS OF HAZBIN HOTEL CREW WITH DOGDAY! READER

Prompt: you are a resident in the hotel who helps with trust exercises and help around with Charlie.

Let’s just say, you are a ball of sunshine everyone needs at times.

“Hi! Welcome to the hazbin hotel, I’m your assistant Dogday.” You say as your tail wags with you being slight jumpy and happy to greet the resident

I can see you walking around at day time rather than night as you are straight going to bed at night unlike catnap!reader

Your tail wags like a gah damn helicopter ready to fly! You always stand with a nice suit with Charlie.

I can see you wearing a suit with Charlie as Charlie thought about giving you one to fit you.

Like IMAGINE THE SUIT WITH A SUN ON IT!? IM CRYING AT HOW PURE THE READER LOOKS AS THEIR TAIL WAGS WITH A HAPPY SMILE🦆✨

You would make friend ship bracelets with the residents, such as the crew as angel smiles at how you made a special one for him. You could tell Angel dust needed love as you made sure you showed him love of friendship!

I can see you just being hugged everyday for being a good boy. Literally reader is just sitting there sweeping the floor, and out of no where husk grumbles hugging you and walks away as you blink confused.

You definitely thought he was drunk until you didn’t smell alcohol on him with your canine nose.

“Dogdayyyy!” Yells Charlie as she was trying to put up a banner that says “tell us about your day!” Immediately you came running with your tounge out excited on all fours as you stopped In front of her looking serious with a salute to your head

Charlie had to turn away from your face as she blushes flustered at your adorable eagerness to help. She’s actually happy to have an angel help her hotel actually.

“I don’t need a hug my dear fellow…” alastor says backing away with an irritated face still holding his smile. Your eyes glimmer with a sinister look as you immediately jumped at him grabbing him into your soft paws. “Gotcha!”

You are quite opposite from the other headcannon with catnap!reader as you have a sun ☀️pendent on your collar. It matches you, hell even Alastor said it as it taps it out of curiosity.

I headcannon your fur and basically dog day’s fur to smell like human..like literally nostalgia with a hint of vanilla to help with the relaxing feeling for the others.

Since you are basically the sun around the hotel, making everyone happy and comfortable. Ima just say, you definitely have a heater in your plushy body so if it’s winter time. You can keep everyone and even your friends warm!

You rumble in your throat like some kind of purr as you just lay down by the couch of the lounge room in the hotel as residents either pet you or lay beside you.

You do head tilts confused when someone is explaining something you never had heard of before. So you just try to learn from the person so it can be a conversation.

I headcannon dogday!reader to have slight or do have adhd as dogday!reader sways while trying to stay still or mess with their paws when bored. Like reader shakes her legs when sitting as they hum a tune to pass time

You have some fluffy ass orange fur as the fur on your head also looks like hair. So basically like angel dust and how his hair looks. But in your style of course!

And lastly, I can see reader literally chasing their tail like a dog and then stopping as they stand up to their full height. Embarrassingly coughing into their hand as they try to seem professional.

CREW HEADCANNONS!

I headcannon Charlie to give you half the tasks as she can see you are working a “little bit” too hard. She only wants you to not overwork yourself. She sees you as a leader as well, but doesn’t want to put pressure on you.

When Lucifer met you, immediately he was petting you with a soft expression. Hell, he even made you a duck a few days later that had dog ears and a sun pendent on it. You smile and made a duck wallet for Lucifer.

Basically you and Lucifer had a gift and receiving friendship as Charlie was happy you and her father was getting along.

But when Lucifer started to live here…oh booyy!

I imagine you accidentally running around the hotel and literally Lucifer is trying to do a Lego duck set. And it crumbles due to you being 8ft….lucifer was pouting and glaring at you at the next hotel meeting. You just sweatdropped at his glare.

I image people thinking you and husk won’t get along as husk is a cat demon and you being a 8ft tall dog creature like plush…but really husk purrs around you as you stand there smiling like a derp. LIKE YOU WOULD BE AT HIS BAR AND HUSK HAS HIS EYES DILATED AT YOU!

I headcannon you call the crew by different names based off summer things….more like sunny thing.

For Charlie=sunshine, vaggie= my sun, Alastor=sunny, Lucifer= sunset, nifty=crazy shine, Pentious= my lovely sun, and finally husk= sunbeam

Now for Angel, you call him Angel…but the way you say it makes Angel smile as it felt like you actually made a nickname for him instead of his name. (Might sound dumb but it’s very cute imo🦆)

I headcannon Angel will grab a ball and toss it yelling “FETCH!” As you perked up immediately with your tongue out as you chase the ball. It was so cartoony as Lucifer, Charlie, and Angel record you being such a good boy. Angel snickers as he sends this through hellgram. (Instagram)

I imagine you and Lucifer hyper fixating on things as you rant about [favorite thing] as Lucifer smiles at how comfortable you are to share these things with him. Lucifer is glad to have a friend like you as you share your emotions out loud like him.

Niffty definitely grooms you as you watch a cartoon on the show. You like to exclaim your favorite part as nifty rewinds it as she grooms your orange fur to perfection.

Headcannon on how your fur smells like a fresh summer day with a hint of vanilla and nostalgia as the crew sleeps on your body while you snore softly. Like literally it’s a cute moment as you wrap your arms around your friend like family. It’s a nice catch to be honest.

I can Imagine a resident was messing with you as you had your head down sad with your tail tucked between your legs. And Alastor popped up beside you with a strained smile as he threatened the resident to leave the hotel or he will broadcast them for his next radio show.

Alastor brought you in his next broadcast as he talked about any subject as you just wag your tail happy to be by the radio demon

I can see the hazbin hotel crew being like “I only talked to that dog for a second, and I’ll kill myself before anyone hurts him.” As you just stand in the background chasing a demon butterfly.

I headcannon the crew being overprotective on your innocence because of how innocent and naive you are based on cuss words. Like angel dust made a comment on how you never cursed before and all you said was, “what’s a cuss word?” ALL HELL BROKE LOSE AS EVERYONE DEATH GLARED ANGEL DUST-

So now if someone curses they just cover your ears as you nibble on a sandwich husk slide over to you.

I imagine sir Pentious literally snuggling against your fur with a doe eyes expression as his egg boiz comment how soft and good you smell as you wag your tail and hug them all. Your love language is definitely all and above, but the most one is touch.

#dogday x reader #dogday #dogday!reader #crossover #hazbin hotel x poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime #Hazbin Hotel #hazbin hotel x dogday! reader #hazbin #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel x platonic!reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin vaggie #hazbin husk #hazbin charlie #hazbin lucifer #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel fluff

[almond-tofuuu]

My thoughts on the Love and Deepspace boys

☀️🎨❄️

aka the vibes I get from them so far

Xavier ☀️

Sunshine boi ☀️

He gives me highschool crush vibes

Like stereotypical anime style first love vibes (you're both eachothers first loves and have no prior relationship experience so you're both kinda awkward at first but you spend more time together and slowly open up to eachother and become this super cute couple 🥺)

Definitely feels like a relationship with him would be so sweet

Seems kind of shy but he definitely has a dominant side it just takes a little while for it to come out

Spontaneous gestures and small gifts to show you how much he loves you (buys you your favourite snacks and cute plushies just bc, doesn't need to be a special occasion he just wants to see you smile and your eyes light up)

The kind of boyfriend you fall asleep on facetime with

Picnic dates in the park 🌳🧺, late night star gazing ✨, slow lazy mornings spent cuddling in bed 🌇

Rafayel 🎨

Drama queen 🙄

Okay so at first this man gave me such brat energy (gonna admit I didn't like him at first cause I'm a brat too and I felt like two of us together would be too much lol 🫣)

He's definitely grown on me tho, he can be pretty sweet when he wants to be and is really fun to be around

Great at cheering you up when you've had a rough day (knows exactly what to say to take your mind off things)

He definitely feels like the kind of bestie you'd hang out with in the middle of the night and commit crimes

He acts all whiney and dramatic but he's definitely got a softer more sensitive side, he just doesn't like to show it (maybe he doesn't like to feel vulnerable around people cause he's still hurting from the last time he let someone close iykyk)

Long walks on the beach ⛱️, moonlight swimming in the sea 🌊, dancing in the rain 🌧️

Zayne ❄️

I stand by the fact that Zayne is pure husband material

This man right here is so husband coded, like he's the kind of guy that is devoted to you and cares for you 24/7

Comes off cold at first glance but he's actually such a big softie 🥺 like he acts indifferent but this man is absolutely whipped for you

Begrudgingly goes along with anything you wanna do bc he loves seeing how happy and excited you get when he agrees (he WILL be your personal ice maker, even if he says he won't he doesn't mean it 😚)

Being with Zayne feels like home, a relationship with him is stable, comforting and loving

Not big on PDA so he can feel a little distant when you're out in public, but when you're alone with him it's a different story

Let's you see a side of him that no one else does, he can be vulnerable with you, finally letting down his guard (loves to come home to you after a long shift at the hospital, just holds you quietly breathing in your scent and feeling himself relax against you)

Lunch dates in his office 🍱, cooking dinner together 🍲, slow dancing in the kitchen at 3am 🌃

#love and deepspace #zayne #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier #xavier love and deepspace

[nymphbroadcast]

Scarabia x MC! Like Charlie Morningstar

⊹Synopsis ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆The Scarabia boys with an MC! or Yuu like Charlie Morningstar.

⊹Relationship ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆Fall in love / free of interpretation.

⊹Fem! MC/Yuu/Reader ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆

⊹Clarifications: This scenario is based on my own analysis of Charlie in the series, adding some information to give more meaning to the story.

⊹Charlie's Analysis ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆

• Charlie is a kind and generous person, despite her obvious royal status she does not take advantage of it and also finds it "mean" if she used her status to intimidate other people, she tends to be completely disinterested unless she is in a desperate or dangerous situation with their loved ones. Charlie is a sensitive, very artistic and dreamy person who enjoys musicals, plays, shows and entertaining movies. She is a firm believer in second chances and always strives to understand the tastes and hobbies of others even if they are not entirely to her taste. When she hurts someone else's feelings she tends to exaggerate the situation and blame herself excessively even if it's not a big deal and she tries to make up for her mistake. She is quite skilled when it comes to her supernatural abilities and immense power but curiously she doesn't usually brag about it. and notably prefers to be "simple" and act like a less powerful person. Returning to her emotional sensitivity, Charlie is usually a pacifist but will not hesitate to use her immense power to defend her loved ones even if that includes sacrificing herself or hurting her enemy (only hurting because she is incapable of killing) and intimidating anyone if it is necessary only because of her love for "her people" even if she knows that they would not do it for her, it is easy for her to connect with people thanks to her pure heart.

Kalim Al-Asim

☀️ (Charlie and Emily Interaction 2.0) Kalim is very similar to you, you may be a little less childish but you are both innocent rays of sunshine who like to make others happy.

☀️ Kalim usually drags you with him everywhere to show you things he thinks you will like and you are delighted to see his thousands of animals and all his family's treasures and all the legends that follow them.

☀️ YOU TWO ARE THE LIFE OF THE PARTY, since you are splendid in singing and entertainment activities and Kalim in the organization and planning of banquets and parties... THE DUO IS PERFECT!!! You complement his skills and even help Jamil get at least 5 minutes of rest!

☀️ We all know that Kalim can be a little messy, but on the contrary you have an ENTIRE ITINERARY ORGANIZED IN YOUR HEAD so you usually remind him of certain things he must do and appease many of his extravagant desires with kindness and before Jamil explodes. (Jamil thanks you)

☀️ Kalim realizes some time later that you use your sorcery skills for similar things to what he does! For example, you light light bulbs for Halloween decorations or create fireworks at larger celebrations, it is something that fascinates him because often you hardly use them for anything and he thinks they are very cool!

☀️ At first your little panic attacks surprise him, because he thought you were much more relaxed... Seeing your VERY few moments of pure anger, the poor thing is terrified to see you so angry and your powers almost destroying everything around... fortunately It hasn't happened more than twice and you've never hurt anyone.

☀️ Kalim sees that you are a cheerful and very kind and generous soul like him, you both definitely have certain ideas of "justice" and "redemption" in common.

☀️ The first time he participates in your trust exercises he can tell that you and Jamil were the people he would trust the most, you were too honest to tell him that and Jamil... Well it's Jamil.

☀️ Kalim is a little curious when you introduce him to your two butlers, they look like goats in his eyes but you correct him and tell him that this is just a more friendly and functional way of looking, when you decide to show. Kalim the true form of the goats... THEY ARE TWO HUGE INFERNAL DRAGONS??!!! He is excited and offers to fly with you on his magic carpet, now imagine how terrified all of Scarabia is to see two dragons flying with their dorm leader through the sky... (RIP Jamil viper)

☀️ So you and Kalim are nicknamed "The Sun and the Rainbow of Night Raven College" and you both take care of and cheer up others together!

Jamil Viper

🐍 Upon meeting you and seeing how naive you seemed he clearly takes advantage of this, using his unique magic on you seeing that you're never particularly as alert as you should be since you arrived at Twisted Wonderland.

🐍 He is surprised by those two goats that follow you and Grimm wherever you go and how they are so protective of you, you explain to him that they are your twin butlers and that your dad gave them to you to guarantee your safety and he doesn't know what to think... why a couple of little goats???

🐍 However, the times he interacts with you while you are not under his control, Jamil can see that in addition to being naive, you are too helpful and kind, offering to help him with his tasks and duties in Scarabia and with Kalim.

🐍 At the time of the Overblot and being sent to the farthest corner of Scarabia, you asked the Octavinelle boys and Kalim to "ride" your two little butlers. Their surprise was pleasant when both goats turned into... COLOSSAL INFERNAL DRAGONS... Floyd he's having fun and Azul is terrified... (I know it doesn't have much to do with Jamil but I had to add Razzle and Dazzle's transformation)

🐍 Also during his Overblot Jamil was able to see for the first time what your anger was like (unleashed by feeling betrayed and Jamil's horrible audacity in controlling Kalim, who fully trusted him) and your powerful chaotic witchcraft, fortunately you have a law of "Not hurting anyone" and you only dedicated yourself to tiring and stunning him until Octavinelle and Kalim's boys hit a final blow.

🐍 After that, Jamil thought that you would be willing to give him some kind of punishment with that powerful "magic" of yours, however his eyes widened when he saw how you extended your hand towards him and talked to him about a second chance.

🐍 From then on he has tried to be as formal as possible, both for your status and for your sensitive personality (He doesn't want to feel a couple of fireworks breaking his eardrums again).

🐍 Every time he discovers more facets of you, your cheerful, almost invasive personality sometimes reminds him of Kalim and he only torments himself thinking that he will have to take care of you too.

🐍 Luckily for him, you are much more responsible and calm than Kalim and you are often the one who gently convinces Kalim to stop his extravagant ideas and he thanks you (not out loud).

🐍 On the other hand, Jamil sometimes doesn't know what to think about you since you listen to him when he starts rambling about his childhood and his desire to be even better than Kalim... And you're also sane enough to remind him that it's not Kalim's fault that Jamil is forced to take care of him 24/7 and that in reality Kalim is just a spoiled child who is too innocent and a bit ignorant to realize that maybe he forgets to give Jamil some space and quiet.

🐍 YOU EVEN PROMISE THAT WHEN YOU ARE THE RULER OF YOUR HOUSEHOLD YOU WILL HELP HIM STOP BEING A SERVANT OF THE ASIM FAMILY. (I see Charlie capable of this, sorry)

🐍 He definitely takes on the role of your protector out of will, seeing that you are perhaps too pure to be there and be labeled with the "Villains".

🐍 You catch him off guard when you say with the purest of smiles and the most honest words that it doesn't bother you when people call you "Villain" because all of them, including him, are your people... they are your family...

🐍 In the end he appreciates your company and your firm beliefs, he strives to make you understand that sometimes you cannot give a second chance to certain people but you always show him the opposite, you become his refuge and a cloth for tears because you are so pure that he He knows that you will never take advantage of his weaknesses.

Nymph's Note:

Charlie is my favorite character from Hazbin Hotel, since this is my first writing I hope you will forgive my mistakes because English is not my native language, I hope you liked it... And I have been thinking about doing one of these for Malleus! As the SIMP No. 1 of Malleus, I feel like an MC! like Charlie would be the perfect Yuu to be the darling of the cute dragon boy!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!

Remember to tune in, end of this broadcast!

Scarabia Dorm x MC! Like Charlie Morningstar Done! ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆

Next...???

#twst wonderland #hazbinhotel #charlie morningstar #hazbin charlie #twisted wonderland headcanons #scarabia #yuu x malleus #kalim al asim #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper #disney twisted wonderland #reader x character #jamil x reader #kalim x reader #scarabia x reader #twst jamil #twst kalim #twst overblot

[renrink]

Honestly, so many aesthetic designs in this game aaaa — how am I gonna draw em all??? 😭😭 I love prof Jacq, he is pure sunshine ☀️ And I love the main four, they have such a cute dynamic (sorry Penny, I’ll have to draw you later haha)

Who was your fave human character in PKMN Scarlet/Violet?? I’ll draw them!! 

#Art #my art #pokemon #pokemon jacq #pokemon arven #arven #Pokémon nemona #nemona #pokemon scarlet #pokemon violet

[elitadream]

Hey, I know this might sound like an odd request but can you do some headcanons about laughter? What do you think Mario's laugh sounds like? Does he laugh often? How easy is it to get him laughing?

Feel free to add anything else if you want! Thank you! ❤️

Aww no I actually really love this! ☺️💖 Let's see...

Mario has different types of laughter. There's the huff, which he commonly makes whenever he's subtly amused or simultaneously endeared and shy; a breathy, quiet and pleasant sound. The soft chuckle, which is a bit more audible and resonates a bit deeper in his chest, but is still fairly discreet. The sudden chortle; usually caused by incredulous joy or surprise. And then there's the guffaw. Pure, hearty, continuous and unrestrained laughter. It's Luigi's and Peach's favorite sound in the whole world. They adore and cherish it immensely; both because it's so irresistibly charming and contagious, and also because it signifies with unmistakable certainty just how happy their favorite person is. 💗

Mario's laugh is... altogether warm, sincere and delightful. Like sunshine for the ears. ☀️🎶 A bright tenor, bouncing with mirth and cheer.

The man is optimistic and upbeat by nature, and he's generally in a very good mood; which means that he's grinning and expressing varying degrees of happiness more often than not. Luigi is the only person who can get a full belly laugh out of him though, and knowing how smitten Peach is with his brother, he would use his sharp wits and fantastic sense of humor to their full capacity whenever they would all be spending time together. Mario would be leaning helplessly against the nearest surface, about to topple over from his prolonged fit of hysterical laughter, a hand resting over his cramped stomach and his eyes shining with unshed tears as he would beg Luigi to stop his current anecdote (lest he might actually pass out from wheezing so hard xD), and it would be the greatest thing. Luigi would steal a smug glance at Peach, who would be staring at Mario with such a look of open adoration that he would feel his own gaze soften at the sight, and they would later recall those moments with indescribable fondness. 💫🎇

#asks #mario #princess peach #mareach #luigi #family #romance #headcanon #laughter #characterization #thoughts and ramblings

[kingofbodyrolls]

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

🐴Chapter summary: Taehyung tries his best to fit in on the ranch, and you and Jimin visit a second hand shop to get decor for your rebuilt ranch. But something happens on the way home that will alter your future together.

🐴Chapter title: Love of Your Life

🐴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: explicit smut in the form of unprotected sex, nipple play, spanking, dirty/sweet talk, multiple orgasms, praise kink, marking, biting, back scratching, hair pulling, crying, rain, like a loooot of rain (yes this is a warning and you will understand later), melancholy, happy tears, promises and confessions.

🐴Status: completed (the epilogue is in the works!)

🐴Word count: 13.3k

🐴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 💿 “All I See” by Kate Voegele. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?]

🐴Author’s note: welcome to sunshine and rainbows!!!!! Finally! All the angst is gone, and it’s time to bask in all the love and glory ☀️ This was so fun for me to write, I’ve honestly been excited to write this chapter FOR MONTHS. So I’m so happy with it, I love it 😭 I really hope you do too— please let me know 💜

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 (Sunday) →

“Your touch is softAnd it makes me trembleIn your armsIt feels so right” ‘Trust the Night’ by Rebecca Lavelle

You gently straddle Jimin’s slumbering figure, leaning close to his ear as you murmur softly, “Jimin, my love, wake up.”

You hear him emit a soft groan beneath you, prompting you to press your needy core against his crotch, causing a shiver to run down his spine as a low, guttural moan escapes his lips.

As he gradually emerges from his slumber, his expression carries a drowsy allure, a mix of exhaustion and irresistible charm. His tousled blonde locks frame his face in disarray, accentuating his soft, almost angelic features. With a gentle flutter, his eyelashes part, revealing the depth of his sleepy gaze, stirring a whirlwind of butterflies within your stomach.

He shifts beneath you, your thighs snugly framing his sturdy body, and he grumbles softly, his voice laced with the remnants of sleep. “What’s wrong, love?” He drawls, his words slow and husky, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

His teeth graze his lower lip, a subtle gesture that sends a surge of desire coursing through you as you feel his dick harden against your folds. You rock against him, craving the delicious friction, and a low groan escapes his lips. Though he’s still tired and not fully awake, his body instinctively responds to your rhythm, his arousal evident despite his drowsiness.

“I want you babe, so bad,” you murmur huskily into his ear, your breath hot against his skin. He chuckles in response, his chest rising and falling beneath your hands.

With a playful smirk, he finally opens his eyes fully, the warmth in them sending shivers down your spine. His hands wander to the curve of your hips, drawing you closer as he teases, “Needy, huh?” His grip tightens, pulling you into him with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

His playful tone dances in the air as he teases, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “You’re not wearing panties?” He asks, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. His gaze drifts lower, down to where your pussy grinds over him, and he grins knowingly. “And you’re already dripping. Did you have a wet dream?” He adds with a suggestive raise of his eyebrow, his voice laced with playful temptation.

You grind down on him again, your voice is high, almost airy and incredibly needy, “I did.” You confess as you drag out the words in the rhythm of your movements as you drag your slick pussy over him, his dick teasing your folds. Each friction sends electric pulses through your body, leaving you yearning for more of him, oh God, you’ll never get enough of his dick.

“Then help yourself,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, as he intertwines his fingers behind his head, accentuating the grace of his muscular frame. Your eyes roam hungrily over his form, captivated by the effortless allure he exudes. With a soft, inviting smile, he reclines on the bed, the epitome of relaxed confidence, beckoning you closer with an inviting gesture. Caught in the magnetic pull of his gaze, you hesitate for a moment, questioning him with wide eyes.

You’re so needy, the lust coursing through your veins like a tidal wave— the memory of your dream, where he took you from behind with your face shoved down into the sheets has left you dripping. With a needy whimper, you realize that he’s serious. He really wants you to just do everything yourself and simply take him like that. Somehow that thought alone makes you even wetter, and you finally begin to move your body, just a bit off him, so you can grab his boxers and slide them down his powerful thighs.

With a throaty chuckle, he watches as you rid him of the garment, tossing it aside with theatrical flair. His laughter fills the room, a symphony of desire harmonizing with your own as you sweep the duvet aside, to make more space for you.

You straddle him once more, a low moan escaping your lips as his unclothed dick comes in contact with your slippery pussy, sending electric tingles through your body. The sensation alone is intoxicating, but you crave more, yearning for the fullness only he can provide. You want all of him lodged deep inside you. Fuck. With a suppressed curse, you bite down on your lip, gradually lifting your body, aligning your throbbing pussy with his dick.

You grab his cock, lowering yourself onto him with tantalizing slowness, a gasp escaping your lips as he stretches you deliciously wide. Each inch of him sliding inside sends shivers of ecstasy coursing through your veins. You love this feeling, being filled like this by him— you can never get enough of it. With each deliberate movement, you moan softly, relishing every moment, wanting to etch it into memory. As you finally cast your gaze upon him, his expression is a portrait of pure bliss, his features sculpted by pleasure. His lips part in silent rapture, his eyes, though almost closed, fixated on you, drinking in every detail, every nuance of your body.

You finally meet his skin at the base, your bodies melding in a primal embrace, taking in every inch of his girthy cock. “Jimin,” you exhale, the name a reverent whisper as you rest your hands upon his chest, seeking stability amidst the whirlwind of sensation. For a heartbeat, you simply remain still, savoring the electric lust between you, and you catch the playful glint in his eyes, a knowing smirk dancing upon his lips.

“You wanted to fuck me, then get to work love and show me what you’ve got,” he teases, his voice dripping with desire and a hint of mischief. He reclines leisurely, every line of his body exuding anticipation, silently urging you to take the lead and unleash your passion upon him.

You groan deeply, a surge of arousal flooding through your core, as you slowly lift your hips and then lower them again, each movement accompanied by a fervent moan. The sensation of him filling you so completely ignites an inferno of pleasure within your depths, leaving you intoxicated with desire.

You establish a deliberate rhythm, each movement a tantalizing dance upon his incredible dick. Jimin’s unwavering gaze follows your every motion, and though you’ve shared such intimate moments countless times, the intensity of his stare sends shivers down your spine, igniting a blush that spreads like wildfire across your skin. Maybe it’s the raw vulnerability of this position or the newfound sense of empowerment that leaves you feeling exposed, but as you surrender to the ecstasy and lust, you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Fuck, babe, you look absolutely stunning riding me like this,” he pants, his voice thick with desire. His hands, which had been idly resting behind his head, suddenly find purchase on your hips, fingers digging into the supple flesh with a satisfying slap. “And the way you’re taking me, fuck, it’s like you were made for this,” he groans, his arousal evident in every word.

“Get that shirt off,” he commands, his voice low and urgent, the desire evident in his tone. “I need to see those gorgeous tits of yours.” His hands grip the hem of your nightshirt, which is actually one of his, and he pulls it upward with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine. You’ve taken to wearing his shirts to bed, finding comfort in their familiar scent, a constant reminder of him even when right next to you.

You comply eagerly, crossing your arms and grasping the fabric of the shirt tightly. With a swift motion, you peel it off your body, revealing your breasts, their gentle sway drawing Jimin’s gaze like a magnet. His hands tighten on your ass, his touch electric against your skin as he hungrily takes in the sight before him, a hunger burning in his eyes.

Your hair cascades around your face like a veil as you continue to ride him at a leisurely pace, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, each one laced with anticipation. Despite the blissful sensation washing over you, a primal urge begins to stir within, urging you to quicken your pace, to chase that elusive peak of ecstasy that awaits you.

With a surge of desire coursing through you, you amplify the rhythm of your movements, grinding your hips against his throbbing dick. Yet, despite the primal intensity of the moment, Jimin’s hands rest on your hips without guiding or directing you; you’re in complete control.

God you love this— you enjoy being in control like this, but you equally love it when he just rams himself into you uncontrollably, or when his touch is slow and tender. Fuck, you love it all. It’s the entirety of his essence, the fierce intensity, the tender intimacy, that leaves you utterly enraptured.

You continue to ride him with fervor, each bounce driving you deeper onto his dick until you can feel the delicious pressure of his balls against your ass.

Every sensation is heightened, every movement sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. You arch your back, seeking the perfect angle to hit your g-spot, and when you finally find it, it’s like fireworks exploding behind your eyelids, your entire body alight with the ecstasy of his touch.

As you pant for air and moan, the exertion of maintaining the pace begins to take its toll. You gradually slow down, but compensate by riding him deeper, each thrust driving his cock to graze your sensitive spot with even more intensity.

Your fingers tremble on his chest, a silent plea for him to reciprocate the intensity coursing through your body. Biting your bottom lip, you observe his nonchalant expression, seemingly unaffected by the passionate dance unfolding between you. Despite the beads of sweat forming on your brow, there’s not a drop to be seen on his honey-kissed skin. Exhaustion begins to creep in, weighing heavy on your limbs, but driven by the mounting arousal coiling in the pit of your stomach, you press on. You’re on a relentless mission to chase down your orgasm, every movement calculated to edge you closer to that elusive climax.

“Are you close, love?” He teases, his voice laced with playful anticipation, punctuated by a chuckle that dances through the air like a mischievous melody.

You nod eagerly, your breath hitching as you admit, “I am. But I need you,” each word punctuated by the rhythm of your body moving sinuously up and down his throbbing dick.

He raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m not doing anything or helping you,” he quips, his teasing tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“But I need you. I need your hands on my boobs,” you plead, your voice tinged with desperation as you teeter on the brink of release— you just need that little thing to push you over the edge. “Please,” you implore, leaning into him, your boobs pressing against his chest. “Just touch my tits, please.”

You observe him closely, noting the flicker of conflict in his eyes as he wrestles with the decision. His brow furrows in silent contemplation, betraying the inner turmoil he’s experiencing. You recognize that familiar crease of indecision on his forehead, a telltale sign that he’s grappling with his resolve. You know all too well that he always has a hard time saying no to you, his resistance crumbling under the weight of your persuasive plea.

With a decisive grunt, his hands abandon their hold on your hips, embarking on a tantalizing journey toward your awaiting breasts. His touch ignites a fiery anticipation within you, each caress a promise of impending ecstasy. “Fine,” he concedes with a playful lilt in his voice, “I’ll help you.”

As his fingers encircle your taut nipples, a wave of intense pleasure courses through you, eliciting a passionate cry of his name. “Thank you,” you exclaim with a breathless fervor, gratitude and desire intertwining in your voice.

You ride him with fervent abandon, as he skillfully toys with your breasts, his fingers teasing and tantalizing your hardened peaks. Each tug and caress sends electric currents of arousal pulsating through your entire being.

“Shit, Jimin,” you gasp, your voice strained with lust, feeling the tension within you building to its breaking point. Despite the exhaustion and the trembling in your thighs, you refuse to relent, driven by an insatiable desire to reach the peak of pleasure. “I’m coming,” you moan, the words escaping in a fervent declaration of impending release. As the wave of orgasm crashes over you, your body tenses, and you feel every muscle contract around his throbbing dick, your essence flooding over him in a torrent of blissful surrender, painting his cock with your essence that trails all the way down to his balls.

His fingers tighten around your breasts, eliciting a shiver of pleasure as he watches you unravel in ecstasy. “Fuck, you’re stunning when you come,” he breathes, his voice laced with awe and desire, his eyes tracing every quiver and tremble of your body as you succumb to the overwhelming waves of pleasure.

You collapse against him, feeling his dick still pulsing within you, aching for release. With exhaustion clouding your senses, you gaze down at him, your voice soft and pleading. “Jimin, can you... take over and fuck me?” you ask, your words a gentle plea. “I want you to finish too, but I’m... so tired. My thighs... They are so sore.”

He chuckles, a knowing gleam in his eyes that tells you he anticipated this moment. His hands, familiar and possessive, return to your ass, and with a swift motion, he delivers a playful spank, reigniting the flames of arousal coursing through your veins. 

“Can’t fuck yourself on me anymore?” He teases, his voice laced with desire, as you feel his dick twitch inside you.

“I want to, but my thighs,” you plead with him, your touch grazing over his chest, tracing the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

With a sudden fluidity, he wraps his arms around your back, effortlessly flipping you both around, leaving you wide-eyed as you find yourself beneath him, him over you, his dick still nestled inside your pussy. His face hovers above yours, a smirk playing on his lips as he presses down, his warm breath brushing against your skin. “You want me to finish what you started?” He murmurs, his voice laced with desire and mischief.

His voice drips with a potent mix of danger and desire, its weight hanging heavy in the air, sending tantalizing shivers cascading down your spine.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, you’re begging for it?” He taunts once more, his voice laden with desire as he presses his dick deeper inside you. Fuck, you just want him to move, for him to fuck you so good.

Your desperation mounts, compelling you to plead with him once more, your voice raw with need as he remains motionless within you. “Jimin, please,” you implore, your urgency palpable, “I need you to fuck me, now. Please.”

With a primal hunger, he descends upon your neck, his kisses igniting a fire within you, his bite both painful and intoxicating, but he soothes it with his breath. As he moves upward, his breath hot against your ear, he whispers, “Oh, I’ll fuck you until you can’t think straight, love. So you can finally rest those gorgeous thighs of yours.”

As he finally starts to move within you, every thrust feels like a divine revelation. You can’t help but moan at the sheer ecstasy coursing through your body, each sensation more intoxicating than the last. Damn, it’s beyond good.

He establishes a rhythm that’s slow yet intense, each thrust penetrating you so deep it’s enough to ignite fireworks in your mind.

“Yes, Jimin, right there!” You cry out, his precise thrusts hitting you in all the perfect spots, his lips on your neck, leaving a trail of sensations that electrify your entire being. You can feel your pussy tightening with each movement, his bites sending a delicious shiver down your spine. You just know he’s leaving marks on your skin again, but fuck, you both love that.

“You just love my cock so much, you can never get enough of it?” He bends down and whispers in your ear, and it sends shivers down your spine, so much so that you can feel how all the hairs over your body raise in anticipation. You moan in pleasure, as your hands travel to his back, where your nails dig into his honey-kissed skin.

“Yes,” you moan, surrendering to the pleasure coursing through you, “I love your cock, can’t get enough of it, or you.” Your words are punctuated by the exquisite sensations of his deep and slow thrusts, making you feel so close to another orgasm.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs huskily, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine, “can’t get enough of you or your pussy either.” His lips find solace on your neck once more, teasingly nibbling and sucking on your skin, igniting a wildfire of sensations within you.

And then it hits you like a tidal wave, that electrifying surge as the coil inside you snaps and your entire being is engulfed in the ecstasy of another orgasm. Your pussy clenches frantically around his dick, milking him with every pulsating wave of pleasure. You’re lost in a symphony of moans and pants, his relentless thrusts fueling the fire as he continues to kiss and nibble at your neck, amplifying the sensation to unimaginable heights.

“Fuck,” you moan, every syllable a testament to the whirlwind of lust swirling within you, enveloping you in a delicious haze of pleasure. In this moment, you feel utterly consumed, every fiber of your being vibrating with a primal satisfaction, as if you couldn't possibly contain all the desire coursing through your veins.

Jimin leans up, his gaze a fiery fusion of love and raw desire, igniting an inferno of longing within you. With a tender yet commanding touch, he lifts one of your legs, cradling it against his body, before repeating the motion with the other, each movement deliberate and intoxicating. As he leans closer down to you, you feel how sore your thighs really are, as he stretches them out for you in the process, and then, he quickens his pace, fucking you faster than before.

You’re swept away in a whirlwind of sensation, barely able to catch your breath as he relentlessly drives you to the brink and beyond. With each thrust, he propels you further into the depths of ecstasy, seamlessly transitioning from one climax to the next, until you’re consumed by a tidal wave of pleasure, threatening to wash over you.

Jimin’s primal groans fill the air, mixing with the rhythmic symphony of skin on skin as he drives into you with unrestrained intensity. His face, a canvas of raw pleasure, tells a story of desire as he relentlessly pounds into you. With each thrust, the bed creaks beneath you, and your hands grips the sheets tightly as you surrender to the lust running through your veins.

You sense his impending release in the ferocity of his thrusts, each one driving you closer to the edge. Your own climax builds, a tidal wave of pleasure gathering strength with each movement. The intensity of the moment ignites a fire within you, burning hotter and more fiercely than ever before.

Every fiber of your being is ablaze with ecstasy as you lock eyes with Jimin, his hazel eyes a mesmerizing blend of desire and devotion. With ragged breaths, you confess, “Fuck, Jimin. I’m gonna come again.”

As beads of sweat finally cascade down his glistening body, a few droplets find their way onto your chest, trickling sensually between your breasts. His demeanor, a mix of intensity and restraint, is nothing short of sinful. His brows knit together, lips caught between his teeth, and as he inches closer to the brink of ecstasy his nose begins to scrunch, and you find yourself captivated by his raw, primal allure. It’s a sight you relish, a testament to the intoxicating power he holds over you.

His voice, ragged and urgent, cuts through the air like a primal plea. “Fuck, yeah, come again, before me, babe,” he urges, the words tumbling from his lips in a breathless rush. You can sense the urgency in his tone, a desperate need for release that mirrors your own. He’s held back his own climax for what feels like an eternity, and now, he’s almost there.

As he thrusts deeply into your pulsating pussy, you surrender to another wave of pleasure, your essence surging around him like a wild, untamed force. The world around you blurs as your senses are consumed by ecstasy, your vision dimming at the edges— you feel so gone. With a shuddering sigh, you close your eyes, savoring every electrifying sensation of him buried deep within you.

“Fuck, love,” he pants, his fingers digging into your thighs as he plunges deeper, his rhythm slowing as he approaches his climax. With bated breath, you watch his expression intensify, his eyes fluttering shut, his nose scrunching in that adorable way you love. A guttural moan escapes his parted lips, your name a whispered mantra on his tongue. The sight of his release nearly overwhelms you, a surge of desire igniting within you, tempting you to join him in another orgasm.

He fills you up with his warm seed, his movements still gentle yet purposeful, blending your fluids together in a passionate fusion. You’re certain most of it trickles out, staining the sheets below, but at this moment, neither of you gives it a second thought. The sheets can be washed later anyway.

He gasps for precious air, his fingers threading through his tousled locks, his lip caught between his teeth in a display of post-climax bliss. As his gaze meets yours, you see the raw emotion there, an unspoken language of love that binds you together, stronger than ever before.

“Good morning, my love,” he murmurs, releasing your legs to slide gently down the sides of his body. Leaning in, he presses a tender kiss to your lips, igniting a warmth that spreads from your mouth to your fingertips.

You thread your fingers through his tousled hair, playfully tugging at the strands, and as you release, you meet his gaze with a tender smile. “Good morning,” you whisper, your voice carrying the warmth of a new day and the promise of endless affection.

He settles his weight atop you, his presence a comforting weight against your skin, and you revel in the sensation of his warmth enveloping you. Despite the softening of his dick inside you, you relish the intimacy, content to stay intertwined in each other’s embrace for what feels like an eternity. Time seems to melt away in the blissful haze of the moment, where nothing else matters except the connection between your bodies.

“We really should get up,” Jimin chuckles as he reluctantly lifts himself from your body. You emit a groan of protest, the thought of spending the entire day wrapped up in your boyfriend’s arms, fucking each other the whole day is tempting you to stay in bed indefinitely.

He withdraws from you, and you can sense the trickle of liquid escaping your pussy, coursing down your ass and staining the sheets beneath you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean you up,” Jimin assures you, swiftly donning his boxers before darting downstairs to the bathroom, his footsteps echoing in the silent house.

He returns with a handful of washcloths, his presence comforting as he approaches your side. Gently, he parts your legs with his hands, his touch igniting a delicate warmth that courses through your body. As he presses the warm washcloth to your sensitive pussy, a shiver dances up your spine, eliciting soft mewls of pleasure. With careful precision, he begins to cleanse away the remnants of your passion, his attentive ministrations a soothing balm to your senses.

He descends eagerly, his lips tracing a path along your inner thigh as the warm washcloth glides over your sensitive flesh. A surge of anticipation courses through you, the proximity of his tantalizing lips to your core igniting a primal desire deep within. With each tender kiss, you can feel the intensity building, another wave of ecstasy threatening to consume you as his dangerous lips draw nearer to your pussy.

You bite down on your lip, struggling to contain the electric tremors racing through your body. There’s an inexplicable tension, an ache building deep within you at the mere sensation of his lips caressing your thighs. With every delicate kiss, it’s as if fireworks explode beneath your skin, igniting a fierce yearning that threatens to consume you whole. Your breath quickens, anticipation mounting as your pussy tightens in desperate anticipation. Yet, he deliberately avoids your most sensitive spot, his lips trailing to the other thigh, bestowing the same tender devotion with each fleeting touch.

Fuck. Could you come with just those tender kisses on your thighs and the damn washcloth teasing your core?

Oh god, you’re craving his touch on your pussy— it’s insane. Yearning for that final release, because it’s right there, tantalizingly close, and you’re already so worked up, knowing it wouldn’t take much to push you over the edge.

“Jimin,” you groan, urgency lacing your voice as you grab his hair, pulling him towards your throbbing pussy, and pressing his face down into your quivering folds.

“Make me come again,” you pant and plead, your voice trembling with an insatiable hunger for release.

He doesn’t need to be told twice; you feel the warmth of his tongue on your folds, savoring every lingering drop of your essence. Then, he ascends towards your clit, sucking on it with fervor, causing you to arch your back and lose yourself in the sensation. Your head falls back into the sheets, your body writhing with ecstasy as you grind your hips into his eager mouth.

Your fingers grip his hair tighter, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, and your voice forms a rhythmic chant of his name, interspersed with moans that echo through the room. Every sensation heightens, your body tingling with anticipation, toes curling involuntarily as you teeter on the edge of euphoria.

His teeth graze your sensitive nub, sending electric waves of pleasure through your body, and as he sucks on it, you feel yourself unraveling, like putty in his hands. A flood of your essence pours out, your body convulsing with ecstasy, fingers clenching in his hair as you cry out his name. Your hips buck uncontrollably as you reach the peak, and he expertly licks up every drop of your essence.

He keeps sucking until you’re dry, until every last drop of your essence is consumed, leaving only the lingering traces of his saliva glistening on your skin.

You tug on his hair, urging him up to your face. Flustered and panting for air, you’re consumed by the desire to kiss him. Pulling him close, you press your lips against his, a passionate exchange that tastes of your essence mingled with his, a heady blend you don’t mind.

As you part for air, you draw him into a warm embrace, molding his body against yours. Soft giggles escape Jimin’s lips, his affectionate words filling the air, “I love waking up like this, you know,” his voice brimming with adoration.

Taehyung stands out like a vibrant splash of color against the rustic backdrop of the ranch, but he’s determined to blend in as seamlessly as possible.

Jimin and Jungkook reluctantly agree to let him stay in one of the smaller guest houses, swayed by Taehyung’s persistent desire to reconnect with his brothers and catch up on lost time. However, a shadow of doubt looms over Jimin’s mind, a residue of skepticism lingering from the Deiji debacle. Despite Taehyung's assurances, Jimin remains cautious, his trust not easily earned after the betrayal he’s endured. Yet, Taehyung’s unwavering determination and the solid proof he provides gradually chip away at Jimin’s reservations, paving the way for a tentative reconciliation.

However, you can’t deny that tensions are running high, especially with Bell Ranch overflowing with people while your own ranch is still under reconstruction—though it’s nearing completion. It’s a bittersweet anticipation, a mix of excitement for the new beginning and reluctance to leave behind the life you’ve built with your boyfriend, which you cherish dearly.

Today is bustling with activity as everyone pitches in to shear the sheep. Amidst the flurry of tasks, you’ve made a mental note to seize the opportunity to interrogate Taehyung about his true intentions for staying. After all, you’ve learned the hard way that vigilance is paramount, and you refuse to let your guard down again.

Jimin sidles up to you, enveloping you in a warm embrace, his arms encircling your frame as he rests his head on your shoulder. “Ready to shear some sheep, babe?” He murmurs, his voice filled with affection and anticipation for the day ahead.

You chuckle softly as his hair tickles your neck, savoring the intimate moment as you lean into his embrace. “I was actually thinking that Taehyung and I could handle sorting the wool,” you suggest, your voice carrying a hint of determination. “It’ll give me a chance to have a chat with him.”

Jimin gently guides your body to face him, his expression tinged with curiosity. “Are you planning to interrogate him?” He inquires, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and concern.

You let out a scoff, rolling your eyes in jest, but a playful smile graces your lips as you meet your boyfriend’s gaze. “Yes, someone has to get to the bottom of things,” you retort, your determination shining through.

He nods in understanding, and you find solace in his agreement, grateful that he doesn’t resist your decision. Not that he typically would, but after everything you’ve weathered together recently, it feels reassuring to approach things with a heightened sense of awareness and scrutiny.

As Jungkook and your sister step into the shearing shed, you greet them with a cheerful wave and a warm smile, grateful for their presence amidst the bustling activity.

“Shall we get to work?” Your sister’s voice rings out, punctuated by the sound of her stretching. Clad in a white tank top that seems to repel the relentless heat, she’s ready for action, as is Jungkook beside her. You and Jimin match the attire, sporting fitted tank tops of your own, ready to tackle the tasks ahead with determination.

“We’re still waiting on the others,” you remark with a smile, your gaze drifting towards the wool sorting station. Just then, the door swings open, a cacophony of voices flooding the space, signaling the arrival of the rest of the crew.

Yoongi, Hoseok, Ha-rin, and Soo-ah saunter in, their laughter echoing joyously throughout the room. While you’re unsure of the source of their amusement, their infectious laughter is enough to brighten your spirits and elicit a genuine smile from you.

As Ara strides in alongside Taehyung, their hushed conversation catches your attention. Despite the serious undertone, there’s a glimmer of warmth in their eyes, and a hint of a smile plays on their lips. Intrigued by their demeanor, you can’t help but wonder about the topic of their discussion.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here,” Jungkook declares, his clipper in hand, “let’s get down to business.”

“Taehyung, join me at the wool sorting station,” you beckon, motioning for him to join you. With a soft smile gracing his lips, he strides over, ready to lend a hand.

“Jimin, Hobi, Yoongi, and I will tackle the shearing,” Jungkook announces, a wide grin lighting up his face. “The rest of you ladies can lend a hand by rounding up the sheep for us.”

“What? I wanna shear sheep too,” your sister protests, her arms crossing defiantly beneath her chest, a playful pout adorning her face.

“And I’m not in the mood for shearing either. How about we switch?” Yoongi suggests with a smirk, eliciting a grin from your sister. You catch Jungkook rolling his eyes at the exchange, a subtle smirk playing on his lips.

With everyone settled into their roles, you dive into the tasks at hand. The rhythmic hum of clippers fills the shed, accompanied by the gentle rustle of wool and the occasional laughter echoing off the walls. As the temperature rises, beads of sweat form on your brow, your tank top clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Sorting through the wool handed to you by either Yoongi, Ara, Soo-ah, or Ha-rin, you work diligently, the camaraderie of the moment overshadowing the discomfort of the heat.

Yoongi strides over, arms laden with wool, and deposits it onto the table with a resounding thud. “Here you go,” he declares, his voice tinged with determination as he joins you and Taehyung in inspecting the fibers for any imperfections that could downgrade its quality.

“Thanks, Yoon,” you offer with a grateful smile, appreciating his contribution before he swiftly turns back to the task at hand, disappearing into the flurry of activity as he assists in gathering more sheep.

Turning his gaze towards you, Taehyung’s curiosity piques. “You’re from the city too, aren’t you?” He inquires, a hint of intrigue lacing his words.

You offer him a warm smile, pausing your inspection of the wool to meet his gaze. “I spent my childhood here. But yes, I’ve mostly lived in the city,” you explain. “What about you? What’s your reason for wanting to reside in the middle of nowhere?”

His grin widens, a boxy and infectious smile lighting up his features as laughter dances in his eyes. In that moment, you find him utterly endearing. “I’m just craving a change of scenery,” he admits, his voice tinged with longing. “Something slower, calmer, and more peaceful.”

“Ah, yeah I get that. Everything’s more calm out here surrounded by nature, all the greens and the mountains,” you remark, your smile reflecting the tranquility of the landscape. Returning your attention to the wool, you scrutinize it meticulously, determined to ensure its perfection. After all, securing the highest classification means fetching the best prices—a goal you’re committed to achieving.

“And I also want to get to know my brothers better,” he adds, his voice carrying a weight of longing and earnestness.

You nod empathetically, grasping his sentiment. “So, did your mom just break the news to you?” You inquire, your curiosity piqued.

His nod is accompanied by a somber shift in his demeanor, a flicker of anger crossing his features as he clenches his teeth. “Yeah. I have a father—or a dad,” he corrects himself, bitterness seeping into his tone. “But now it turns out he’s not my biological one. My mom only found out recently when he was hospitalized and I offered to donate part of my liver. That’s when we discovered the truth—we’re not related.”

Your gasp echoes through the air, your eyes widening with a mixture of shock, horror, and empathy. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you murmur, your voice heavy with concern. “Is your dad okay now?”

He nods slowly, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. “Yeah, he’s alright now,” he confirms. “But it hit us like a ton of bricks. My mom had to revisit her past, all those guys she dated, trying to piece it together. And here we are,” he adds with a shrug, his pain palpable in the weight of his gaze.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” you offer sympathetically, briefly squeezing his arm in reassurance before returning to the task at hand. With determined focus, you gather the wool and feed it into the crushing machine, watching as it transforms into compacted bundles ready for bagging.

Taehyung trails after you, his voice tinged with gratitude. “Thanks. It’s okay. But,” he hesitates, leaning in closer over your shoulder, “How can I win them over? They don’t seem to warm up to me much.”

Your laughter rings out as you pivot, beckoning Taehyung to join you back at the table. “Just be genuine, kind, and humble,” you advise, meeting his gaze earnestly. “Jungkook and Jimin had their share of disagreements when they first discovered they were siblings. But genuine kindness can get you far.”

Your smile widens as Ara approaches with another batch of wool, her shy grin directed at Taehyung drawing a chuckle from you. It’s a rare sight to see Ara in such a bashful state.

“I just really want them to accept me,” Taehyung confesses, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his expression, his features taking on a slight pout.

“Then trust me, and stick with my advice,” you reassure him with a warm smile, conveying your confidence in his ability to win them over. Taehyung exudes genuine kindness, and you sense no ulterior motives in his intentions.

As you work, Jimin approaches from behind, his hands finding your hips and playfully trailing down to grasp your ass, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He leans in close, his warm breath tickling your ear as he murmurs softly, “Let’s take a break, my love.”

With a chuckle, you spin around to face him, your laughter fading as your lips meet his in a tender and affectionate kiss.

As the rest of the guys gather around the sorting table, Yoongi wastes no time heading for the cooler. “Anyone up for some water or maybe a cold beer?” he offers, casting a glance around the group.

“Feel like sharing a beer?” You suggest to Jimin, a playful glint in your eyes. His smile widens, and he nods eagerly, joining you at the cooler to fetch a cold one, while the others help themselves to either water or beer.

“How are you finding it here?” Hoseok inquires of Taehyung, taking a swig of his water, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.

“It’s been cool so far. Just trying to get to know everyone,” Taehyung replies, his gaze sweeping across the group with genuine interest.

“I’d be happy to help with that,” Hoseok offers, his grin widening as his eyes sparkle with enthusiasm.

Hoseok’s playful finger-pointing game begins, and as he gestures to each person, a chorus of laughter fills the room. “Soo-ah’s the cute and funny one,” he declares with a grin, before moving on, “Ara’s the tall and orderly one.” 

His gaze sweeps the room, landing on each member in turn. “Ha-rin’s the sweet one who keeps us all fed,” he continues, and then he points to Yoongi, “Yoongi’s the sleepy but hard-working one—oh, and also, my boyfriend,” he adds with a chuckle. Finally, he turns to you, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “And she’s pretty, but don’t get on her bad side; she’ll give you a piece of her mind.” Laughter erupts from the group, and you playfully roll your eyes as Jimin pulls you closer, his embrace warm and comforting, his lips pressing softly against your temple.

Hoseok continues with his introductions, his playful tone keeping everyone entertained. “And then there’s Jessi,” he says, a note of caution in his voice, “Never get on her bad side either, but deep down, she’s a sweetheart, a loyal friend.” 

His gaze shifts to you and Jimin, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “Next up, we have Jimin,” he says warmly, admiration evident in his tone, “Dedicated, kind, and sometimes too good for his own good.” Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he turns to Jungkook. 

“And of course, there’s Jungkook,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips, “Who tends to let his dick do the thinking for him.” Laughter ripples through the group as Jungkook playfully shoves Hoseok, earning a round of chuckles from everyone.

Laughter erupts once more, Jungkook’s protest drowned out by the jovial atmosphere. “Hey, I’ve changed my ways!” he insists, but your sister chimes in with a teasing grin, “It’s okay, Kook. Your dick is getting married to me soon.” Her playful remark earns a round of chuckles and good-natured teasing from the group.

Jessi saunters over to Jungkook, her steps purposeful, and plants a lingering kiss on his lips, a moment that seems to stretch into eternity. The group erupts into playful cat-calls and whistles, their cheers punctuating the affectionate display between the couple.

Hoseok interjects with a playful jab, his finger pointing towards Jungkook and your sister, who are locked in an embrace that borders on scandalous as they have begun to grind their bodies against each other. “And that’s precisely why we say he thinks with his dick. Too much PDA!” he quips, the lighthearted teasing drawing laughter from the group as they playfully rib the amorous couple.

“It really is a bit much,” you remark with a chuckle, stealing a glance at Jimin whose hand finds yours in a subtle display of affection. “At least we try to keep our PDA low-key around the others,” you add with a playful wink, eliciting a soft smile from Jimin as he squeezes your hand in agreement.

Yoongi huffs, his eyes rolling dramatically as he nurses his beer. “You two should just go get a room already,” he quips, the playful annoyance in his voice drawing laughter from the group as he nods toward your sister and Jungkook.

Yoongi chuckles deeply, his laughter infused with a hint of amusement. “That was pretty cool, babe, but also, very stereotypical casting for all of us,” he remarks, shooting a playful glance around the group. Hoseok joins him at his side, nodding in agreement with a grin.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok chuckles, his tone carrying a hint of mischief that matches the glint in his eyes. Yet, there's a warmth to his expression that makes his lack of apology forgivable. After all, his assessment of all of you wasn't entirely inaccurate.

“Thanks,” Taehyung replies with a genuine smile, a glimmer of gratitude shining in his eyes as he acknowledges Hoseok’s words.

“We should get back to work,” Jimin suggests, his touch on your hip sending a familiar, comforting shiver down your spine, as it always does.

You all return to your tasks, you and Taehyung engaged in sorting the wool while sharing anecdotes about your childhoods and exchanging musings about life in the city.

Ha-rin approaches with a bundle of wool for sorting and sets it on the table before leaning in close to you, her expression carrying a sense of urgency. “I have something important to share with you,” she whispers.

You pivot toward her, your attention fully captured, while Taehyung focuses on the task of sorting the wool.

Ha-rin’s eyes sparkle with an unmistakable glow, maybe happiness or excitement, as her smile widens, and her cheeks flush with color. “Do you remember Seokjin?” she asks, her voice filled with anticipation.

You nod eagerly, a smile stretching across your face, encouraging Ha-rin to continue with her story.

“Well, We’re dating now!” She announces, her voice brimming with enthusiasm as she practically bounces with joy.

“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you!” You exclaim, your voice filled with genuine excitement, as you pull her into your embrace for a tight hug.

“Who’s Seokjin?” Taehyung’s curious voice chimes in from behind you.

“Just my new boyfriend,” Ha-rin says with a proud voice, her eyes shimmering with new love, “You’ll meet him at the wedding.” 

“Cool,” Taehyung says with a smile as he goes back to sorting the wool with you, his movements fluid and purposeful as he assists in the process of crushing and bagging it. 

The rest of the day unfolds much the same, a symphony of shared labor and laughter, until the sun dips low in the sky, casting golden hues across the landscape. With evening approaching, the decision is made to take the festivities outdoors, firing up the barbecue on the terrace.

After weeks of anticipation and tireless efforts, the final touches have been put in place, completing the reconstruction of your beloved ranch. The delivery trucks have come and gone, leaving behind a treasure trove of furniture that now adorns your home. With the major pieces in place, your attention turns to the finer details — the trinkets, accents, and embellishments that will infuse warmth and personality into every corner of your space.

The rain beats relentlessly against the windshield, but Jimin’s presence beside you provides a comforting contrast to the gloomy weather outside. Despite the downpour making visibility scarce, your determination to find the perfect pieces for your home remains unwavering as you navigate through the storm into town, eager to explore the treasures waiting within the second-hand furniture store.

You both step out of Jimin’s truck, the sound of the rain intensifies, its rhythmic patter echoing through the streets. Jimin’s hand finds yours, fingers interlocking as if seeking solace in each other’s touch amidst the storm. Together, you brave the downpour, your clothes already drenched, yet the warmth of his hand in yours provides a shield against the chill of the rain.

He squeezes your hand reassuringly, and Jimin’s gaze meets yours, his eyes reflecting concern and affection. “Do you have a clear idea of what you’re looking for?” He inquires, his voice cutting through the sound of raindrops drumming against the pavement.

You pause for a moment, the weight of your loss heavy in your words, “I don’t really know. I suppose I’ll recognize it when I see it. It’s just... devastating, you know? All those irreplaceable things, gone in an instant.” The ache in your voice echoes the memories lost in the fire—photos of cherished moments, mementos of family and your shared history with Jimin. Yet, despite the devastation, there’s a glimmer of solace in your next words, “But we still have each other, and that’s what matters most.”

Jimin’s voice carries a tender reassurance, “I know, love. It’s not the same, but we can create new memories— together.” His hopeful smile glimmers through the rain as you reach the door of the store, promising a future woven with shared moments and fresh beginnings.

As he pushes open the door, you’re enveloped in the scent of old wood and nostalgia, a comforting embrace from the past. Inside, Jimin guides you through the aisles, where small lamps cast warm glows, paintings whisper tales of distant lands, and bedding invites dreams of serenity. Yet, amidst the array of treasures, nothing seems to call out to you, each item silent in its appeal.

You find yourself yearning for the familiarity of your old belongings, their absence casting a shadow over the task of replacement. Amidst the sea of options, uncertainty looms large, leaving you grappling with indecision as you navigate the aisles.

“Nothing here seems to resonate with me,” you grumble softly, feeling a sense of frustration as Jimin wraps his arm around you, offering silent support in the midst of your indecision.

“You don’t have to force it, love,” he says, his touch gentle as he strokes your arm, understanding the weight of the moment as you continue to wander among the aisles filled with relics of other people’s pasts, none of which seem to fit the future you’re trying to build for your home.

“I know, it’s just... I want my home to feel like mine again,” you admit, your voice carrying the weight of longing and a touch of anxiety. You can feel the restlessness creeping into your veins, a desperate desire to reclaim the sense of belonging that once filled every corner of your space. Even after the rebuilding was complete and you revisited, that familiar warmth seemed elusive, leaving you yearning for a sense of home that now feels like a distant memory.

“I understand. And if it helps, I have some old photos of us as kids. Maybe they’ll bring back some of that warmth,” he offers, his voice tender as he leans in to kiss your cheek. In that moment, flooded with memories and affection, your heart swells with love and a renewed sense of comfort.

“Thank you, my love,” you murmur, leaning into his warm touch, feeling a surge of gratitude for having him by your side, a constant source of comfort and support in your life.

“Shall we head back home, then?” he asks, gently tugging you towards the exit, his eyes filled with a tender reassurance that no matter where you go, as long as you’re together, it’s home.

“Yeah, let’s head back home,” you agree, following his lead out into the rain. The downpour has only intensified, each raindrop drumming a frantic rhythm on the pavement. You quicken your pace, darting towards his truck with eager steps, eager to escape the deluge and find refuge in the warmth of home.

You share a laugh, the sound mingling with the patter of rain around you, as you both sit there drenched, your hair plastered to your skin and raindrops trickling down your clothes like tiny rivers.

Jimin casually runs his hand through his bangs, a gesture so effortlessly captivating that it sends a shiver down your spine. There’s something undeniably enticing about the way his fingers tousle his hair, igniting a fire deep within your core.

With a satisfying rumble, Jimin turns the key in the ignition, awakening his truck from its slumber. The engine roars to life, echoing the thunderous rhythm of your hearts. As he deftly maneuvers the vehicle in reverse, the world outside the windshield blurs into streaks of rain, a symphony of droplets dancing against the glass. Soon, you’re back on the familiar path homeward, each turn of the wheel bringing you closer to the sanctuary of his home.

You gaze out the rain-streaked windows, the world outside a whirl of fleeting hues and misty raindrops. A pang of melancholy settles in your chest, a silent lament for the unfulfilled promise of finding pieces to restore the warmth of your home. Yet, amidst the downpour and the passing scenery, a glimmer of hope flickers within you. You cling to the belief that with time, dedication, and shared love, you can piece together the fragments of familiarity, stitching together a tapestry of comfort reminiscent of days gone by.

“It’s pouring buckets,” you remark, squinting through the rain that blurs the world beyond the windshield into an abstract watercolor.

“Yeah, it’s like driving on an ice rink out here,” Jimin mutters, his grip on the wheel tightening as the car skids slightly, prompting you to glance at him, relieved to find his attention still fixed on the road ahead.

Damn you hate driving in rainy weather— you know it takes so much focus and attention. Your muscles tensing with each unpredictable swerve of the car. Every moment feels like an eternity, your only wish for the storm to relent and let you reach your destination unscathed.

“Shit!” Jimin’s expletive slices through the tension as a deer darts across the road, forcing him to swerve sharply and the truck skids to a halt. Your heart lurches against the seatbelt, grateful for its hold as the truck jerks to a stop. With wide eyes, you glance at Jimin, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel, a symphony of muttered curses escaping his lips.

He presses down on the accelerator, but the wheels only spin uselessly, kicking up mud and gravel. 

Damn it, you’re stuck, aren’t you?

You turn to Jimin, your eyes widening in alarm. “Are we stuck?”

Jimin huffs, frustration evident as he runs a hand through his hair again. “I’m afraid we are.”

“At least the deer made it out okay,” he grunts in frustration.

“Yeah, yeah, great for the deer, but now we’re stranded,” you grumble, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, frustration settling in as rain pelts the chassis of the truck.

You release a frustrated huff as the reality of the situation sinks in. “What do we do now, Jimin?” You turn to him, concern etched in your eyes.

“We could try to push the truck back onto the road,” he suggests, his breath heavy with resignation.

You gape at him, disbelief etched across your face. “Why can’t we just call for help?”

He lets out a frustrated chuckle, the sound laced with tension. “It’ll take forever for help to arrive out here. We might as well give it a shot, see if we can push it out of the mud. If we can’t, then we’ll call for backup.”

“Fine,” you grunt, regretting not grabbing your raincoat before this impromptu adventure. Anger simmers beneath your skin, though you know it’s futile. Still, frustration pulses through your veins as you swing open the door and step out into the relentless rain, each drop feeling like a reminder of the day’s misfortune.

Jimin joins you, and together you march to the rear of the truck, determination etched on your faces as you brace yourselves against the heavy load. With gritted teeth and strained muscles, you throw your weight against it, but it remains stubbornly unmoved, resisting your efforts with an infuriating steadfastness.

“Jimin, have you even put it in neutral?” you demand, your patience wearing thin, the frustration evident in your tone as irritation simmers beneath the surface.

“Shit, I forgot that,” Jimin apologizes, rushing back to the driver’s seat to rectify his oversight and shift the gear into neutral. You can’t help but roll your eyes and emit a frustrated grunt. Forgetting such a crucial step isn’t exactly conducive to getting the truck unstuck, and you're feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on you.

“Seriously, love,” you grumble, the frustration mounting within you like a tempest.

“Are you mad now?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity and concern.

“Yeah! I’m so frustrated that we’re in this situation at all!” you huff in anger, your voice resonating with frustration. You plant your hands firmly on the load at the back of the truck. “Help me push it.”

Jimin joins you, his expression apologetic as he understands your frustration. Despite his remorse, you’re determined to push the damn truck back on the road and get back home. The rain continues to soak you both, and while the weather isn’t freezing, you're aware that staying outside in wet clothes isn’t ideal.

You exert every ounce of strength to push the damn truck, but it remains stubbornly stuck in the mud. Your feet struggle for traction in the slippery terrain, and with a frustrated grunt, you lose your balance, landing with a heavy thud in the mire. Jimin, ever beside you, extends his hand, offering support in the midst of your muddy ordeal.

As you grip his hand, now coated in mud like the rest of you from your unplanned plunge, Jimin’s concern is palpable in his voice. “Are you alright?” He inquires, his eyes scanning you for any signs of injury amidst the muck.

Frustration boiling over, you unleash a torrent of emotion, your voice echoing in the rain-soaked air. “I hate this fucking truck!” You scream, the words carrying your exasperation and anger into the stormy air.

With a surge of frustration, you unleash a primal act of defiance, kicking the stubborn truck with all your might. Storming around to the passenger side, you yank open the door, then dive into the glove compartment, your hands fumbling desperately for anything to wipe the mud from your face.

In the heat of your fury, items tumble from the glove box, but you pay them no mind. Enveloped by anger, you allow the contents to spill onto the muddied ground, a chaotic symphony of frustration. Finally, your hand closes around a fabric, and as you draw it out, relief washes over you at the sight of the handkerchief clutched in your grasp.

“I’m so sorry, but there’s no reason to be mad,” Jimin’s voice breaks through your fury, gentle and soothing, yet you can’t shake off the bubbling anger as you tighten your grip around the cloth, your frustration simmering beneath the surface like a tempest ready to erupt.

“This is your fucking fault! If you hadn’t swerved to avoid that deer, we wouldn’t be stuck here!” You erupt, the words laced with bitterness and frustration, punctuated by the slamming of the door. Bending down, you scoop up a handful of mud, your movements fueled by anger, and hurl it at your boyfriend, the wet earth splattering against his chest with a muddy thud.

“Hey!” He shouts, his voice tinged with both surprise and frustration as the mud hits him squarely in the chest. “If I hadn’t swerved, we would’ve collided with the poor animal,” he huffs, his words defensive yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

“I don’t give a Shit! Why do you have to be so damn sweet?” You curse, frustration dripping from every word as you slump against the passenger’s door, letting your body slide down to the dirt. At this point, you couldn’t care less. You’re drenched, the rain relentless, and your clothes are soaked and caked with mud. You scoop up more dirt, hurling it at him, but a small smile tugs at your lips nonetheless.

“Why are you throwing mud at me?” He chuckles as you continue to hurl clumps of mud at him.

“You deserve to be as filthy as me. After all, this mess is all your doing,” you retort with a laugh, embracing the absurdity of the moment. You feel utterly ridiculous, but in the midst of your misery, why not find a bit of humor?

Your fingers coil around yet another clump of mud, but this one has an unfamiliar weight to it. Just as you’re about to launch it at him, a flicker of caution halts your arm mid-swing. What if it’s not just mud? What if it’s a stone? You freeze, the gravity of potentially hurting him suddenly sinking in. With a conscious effort, you halt your motion and peer closely at the object cradled in your palm.

As you inspect the object further, it dawns on you that it’s not a stone at all—it’s more box-shaped, its contours distinctly different from the surrounding mud.

You pull the object closer, curiosity piqued. With both hands now engaged in the inspection, the handkerchief falls forgotten into the mud below.

As you remove the mud from the box, your heart races with anticipation, and a surge of emotions washes over you—love, excitement, and a hint of disbelief. With trembling hands, you begin to realize the significance of what you might have stumbled upon.

Jimin notices the box in your hands, and as your eyes widen with realization, he senses a shift in the atmosphere. His own expression morphs into one of nervousness and shock as he hurries over to you, his voice pleading, “Don’t.”

“Jimin,” your voice quivers, uncertainty laced with a trembling anticipation as you gaze at the box in your hands. A strange mix of fear and longing swirls within you, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as your body trembles with emotion. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Please don’t open it now,” he implores, his voice tinged with urgency as he kneels before you, eyes pleading.

You disregard his pleas, your focus solely on the mysterious box in your hands. His touch, though comforting, fades into the background as tears blur your vision. 

“Is this... for me?” The question trembles in your voice, laden with hope and uncertainty.

He takes a deep breath, a hint of frustration flickering across his features before he confirms with a soft, resigned tone, “It is.”

You lock eyes with him, your gaze searching for answers. “Why can’t I open it then?” You ask, your voice a blend of curiosity and longing, yearning to unravel the mystery within the box.

He bites his bottom lip, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he weighs his words carefully. “It’s not the right time,” he murmurs softly, his tone laden with hidden meaning, leaving you wondering what secrets the box holds and why now isn't the moment to unveil it.

“Right time?” You echo, your voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and longing, your fingers tightening around the box as if it holds the answers to all your questions. You draw it closer to your chest, the weight of it pressing against your heart, desperate for the secrets it guards to be revealed.

You feel as if the air has been sucked out of your lungs, a lump forming in your throat, making it hard to speak. “I don’t care about the right time,” you manage to say, your voice strained with emotion, your heart pounding against the confines of your chest.

Your voice quivers with raw emotion, the weight of your longing evident in every syllable. “I want to open it,” you insist, your words carrying the depth of your desire, echoing the urgency in your heart.

You catch a glimpse of uncertainty flickering in his eyes, a silent plea for patience. Yet, an undeniable yearning propels you forward. Damn it, you need to uncover the mysteries held within that box!

“Or better yet, you open it for me,” you press the box into his trembling hands, your voice a whisper of longing, “Please.”

He accepts the box from your hands into his own, his fingers tracing its edges with a tenderness that mirrors the emotion swirling in the air around you. For a timeless moment, the rain’s relentless patter provides the only soundtrack to your anticipation.

“Alright,” he whispers, his voice a gentle breeze in the midst of the rainstorm, laden with layers of emotion—love, adoration, and a hint of vulnerability that draws you closer.

With deliberate care, he unfurls the box’s lid, revealing its hidden treasure, as you stand there in the rain, every droplet echoing the rapid beat of your heart. Your breath hangs suspended as the ring emerges, a golden band adorned with a mesmerizing purple gemstone. Your hands quiver with anticipation, your gaze flitting between the ring and your beloved, each moment pregnant with emotion.

Jimin kneels before you, his eyes alight with a blend of love and hope that sparkles even in the rain-soaked dimness. His hair, drenched and plastered to his head, gives him an endearingly disheveled appearance, yet there’s an undeniable allure in his vulnerability. With the box cradled in his hand, he exudes a nervous energy, his lip caught between his teeth.

In that suspended moment, every beat of your heart seems magnified, echoing in the space between you and Jimin. Emotions swirl within you, a tumultuous mix of love and anticipation, rendering you speechless. Your affection for him surges, a tidal wave of adoration that threatens to overwhelm you. All you want is to feel the weight of that ring on your finger, a tangible symbol of your boundless love. 

Yet, as the seconds tick by, the question remains unspoken, hanging in the air like an unclaimed promise.

With a deep breath, he begins, “My love,” and the mere sound of those words sends a shiver down your spine, a surge of emotions welling up within you, threatening to overflow. His voice, soft yet laden with sincerity, washes over you like a gentle breeze on a summer day.

“I’ve loved you for so long, with every beat of my heart,” he confesses, his voice wavering with emotion amidst the relentless downpour. “I want nothing more than to spend eternity by your side, to cherish every moment with you. Will you marry me?” With those words, he offers you not just a ring, but his soul, laid bare before you, his eyes reflecting the depth of his devotion despite the storm raging around you.

Tears mingle with the raindrops, cascading down your cheeks, as you gaze at him, your heart a tumultuous symphony of emotions. In that moment, the world around you fades into a blur, leaving only him, his earnest expression etched into your soul.

“Fuck yes, you beautiful fool,” you manage to gasp amidst tears of joy, your muddy fingers staining his cheeks as you pull him into a fervent kiss. In that embrace, it’s as if the universe itself has aligned, every piece falling into perfect place. Your kiss is a declaration, a promise of endless love and boundless passion, a testament to the unbreakable bond between your souls. As you meld together in that moment, you can’t help but release a guttural sound of longing and satisfaction into his mouth.

With a tender chuckle, he breaks the kiss for a moment, and as you catch your breath, your left hand trembles with the weight of your affection as you extend it towards him.

Gently, he slides the ring over your muddy ring finger, his eyes never leaving yours, and when it finally settles in its place, you glance down at the ring. There, snug on your finger, it feels like it belongs, a tangible emblem of your love. You’re overwhelmed with an indescribable sense of completeness, your heart brimming with an abundance of love.

With a soft smile, you meet his gaze, captivated by the dimples adorning his cheeks. Eager for another kiss, you lean in, your enthusiasm propelling you forward, but in your haste, you inadvertently push him down onto the muddy ground. His back meets the wet earth, but undeterred, you lower yourself on top of him, your lips meeting in a fervent embrace, each kiss imbued with the passion and love that fills your heart.

You couldn’t care less about the rain, the mud coating your clothes, or the dampness seeping into your skin. In this moment, with his proposal still echoing in your mind, you’re consumed by an overwhelming sense of love and euphoria. It’s as if the world around you fades into insignificance compared to the depth of emotion swelling in your heart.

“Jimin, I…” You pause, your voice cracking with emotion as you lock eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze conveying volumes of unsaid words. “Damn it,” you continue, your voice trembling with raw sincerity, “I love you more than words can express. We’ve weathered storms together, faced hardships, but through it all, my love for you has only grown stronger. I want to spend eternity with you, by your side, through every high and every low.”

Tears stream down your cheeks, a mixture of overwhelming joy and profound emotion washing over you. But instead of words, you convey the depth of your feelings through a tender kiss, your lips meeting his with a fervor born of love. As you press against him, you feel the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling, a comforting reassurance amidst the storm of emotions. With each tear that falls, you’re reminded of the depth of your love, your journey, and the unwavering bond that binds your souls together.

With a gentle touch, he reaches for your face, his fingertips tracing the path of your tears, a futile attempt to wipe them away amidst the mud and rain. Despite the grime that now marks his hands, his touch carries a tenderness that speaks volumes, a silent promise to be there for you, even in the messiest of moments.

He lifts you gently, his hands cradling your face as he meets your gaze with sincerity. “I’m so sorry for everything, love,” he murmurs, his voice carrying the weight of his remorse and the depth of his affection.

You gently shake your head, your eyes meeting his with a soft intensity. “I know you’re sorry, and I am too. But we’ve said sorry enough,” you whisper, your voice carrying a note of resolve. “I just want to look ahead, please.”

With a solemn nod, mud now smudging his hair further, he reciprocates your kiss, his lips molding against yours as if they were made for each other. His lips, soft and warm against yours, feel like a sanctuary, each beat of your heart syncing with the rhythm of his own.

You break the kiss, your fingers intertwining with his as you guide him to sit beside you, eager to admire the ring together. The sight of it takes your breath away; it’s not just beautiful—it’s downright stunning. The way it catches the limited light, shimmering with a brilliance that reflects your love, leaves you speechless.

“How long have you had it?” Your question lingers in the air, accompanied by the gentle patter of raindrops. You can’t help but smile, feeling like the luckiest person in the world, despite the downpour soaking you both.

His laughter dances in harmony with the rhythm of the rain, a melody of joy amidst the storm. As his hand navigates through his hair, smearing more mud across his face, you can’t help but join in, your laughter echoing through the downpour.

“You won’t believe me,” he chuckles nervously, a hint of mystery teasing his words. You playfully shove him on the shoulder, your laughter mingling with the pitter-patter of raindrops. Leaning into his sturdy frame, you find comfort against the backdrop of the truck, a sanctuary in the midst of the storm.

“Try me,” you tease, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as you place your muddy hand over his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your touch.

“I’ve had it for months,” he confesses, and you let out a gasp, pulling away to gaze at him with wide eyes, surprise painting your features.

“Shit, really?” You exclaim, disbelief evident in your voice. It’s hard to fathom that he’s been carrying the ring around for so long.

“I got it before Deiji came back and announced her pregnancy,” he confesses, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips, though a hint of sadness lingers in his eyes.

“I’m still sorry about that, but I’m also relieved that we don’t have to deal with that anymore, to be honest,” you confide, a wistful smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah. I know,” he murmurs, his voice carrying a weight of longing and resignation. “I was really looking forward to being a father, I guess.”

You gently cup his cheeks, locking eyes with him. “I know, love. But you can still be a father-– a father to our kids. I want everything with you, even kids. Maybe not right at this moment, but in the future, absolutely.”

You witness the spark in his eyes ignite, tears welling up and cascading down his cheeks, his whole being pulsating with emotion. Without hesitation, you draw him close, enveloping him in a tight embrace, sharing in his overwhelming moment of vulnerability and love.

“Thank you. I love you so much,” his words, though muffled against your shoulder, resonate deeply within you, carrying the weight of his love and gratitude. You hold him tighter, cherishing the warmth of his embrace and the sincerity in his voice as he expresses his boundless affection.

You gently stroke his back, feeling the rise and fall of his trembling breaths against your chest. With tender reassurance, you speak softly, your words carrying the weight of unwavering devotion. “You beautiful fool,” you murmur, “I love you so much too.”

As the rain continues to cascade around you, mingling with the mud beneath your feet, Jimin’s resourcefulness shines through. With a determined glint in his eye, he offers a solution amidst the downpour. “How about this,” he suggests, his voice cutting through the rain’s steady rhythm. “You take the wheel, and I’ll push the truck forward from the back.” His hands grip a sturdy piece of wood, strategically positioned beneath the wheels for added traction.

Feeling a surge of determination, you nod decisively and make your way to the driver’s seat. With a sense of purpose, you settle in, the familiar hum of the engine beneath you. Guiding the gear shift into place, you take a deep breath, your focus unwavering. As the engine roars to life, you ease your foot onto the accelerator, the truck finally inching forward with each determined push from Jimin’s hands against its frame.

With each concerted effort, the truck gradually inches forward, overcoming the resistance of the mud with each determined push. A surge of triumph floods through you as the tires find traction, guiding the vehicle back onto the solid ground of the road. As Jimin approaches, his eyes bright with pride and relief, he leans in and seals the moment with a tender kiss, a silent celebration of your shared victory.

His grin widens as he gazes at your hand, adorned with the beautiful ring, and then back up at you. “Do you want to take the wheel?” he asks, a playful glint in his eyes.

Your laughter fills the cabin, a delightful symphony against the drumming rain outside. “No way, not in this weather,” you chuckle, relinquishing the driver’s seat and venturing back out into the rain. Jimin flashes you a grateful smile as he settles back into the driver’s seat, ready to navigate the wet roads once more.

Through the rain-streaked windshield, he guides you home with a steady hand, the soft hum of the engine blending seamlessly with the pitter-patter of raindrops. In this tranquil cocoon of affection, words seem unnecessary as your love speaks volumes, enveloping you both in a comforting embrace.

With practiced precision, he guides the truck onto the familiar terrain of the yard, the rain still a faithful companion to your journey.

You both leap out of the truck, a contagious giddiness infusing your steps, your hand instinctively seeking Jimin’s as you scan the expanse of the ranch for your friends, the anticipation palpable in the air that mirrors the fluttering excitement in your hearts. You can’t wait to tell your friends and sister what has happened.

As you scour the house and comb through every corner of the property, your curiosity leads you to the stables. With a creak of the door, you’re greeted by a chorus of voices resonating from within, hinting at the presence of your friends.

You tread down the rustic aisle of the stables, the earthy scent of hay and sawdust swirling around you. There, amidst the soft glow of fluorescent light, you spot your sister, Jungkook, Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok engrossed in the meticulous task of cleaning out the stalls, their laughter echoing off the wooden beams.

You beam, your eyes catching Yoongi’s in the warm glow of the stable windows. His puzzled expression prompts a chuckle as he gestures towards your muddy attire, “What happened? You’re all covered in dirt.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling like the protagonist in some quirky romantic comedy. Grinning ear to ear, you confess, “We drove off the road.”

You observe as the guys down their tools, their attention instantly drawn to you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and worry.

Concern etches across your sister’s face as she strides over to you along the aisle, her voice soft with worry as she asks, “Are you okay?”

Grinning, you reassure them, “We’re all good. Managed to push the truck back on the road,” your laughter intertwining with the warmth of Jimin’s hand in yours.

Yoongi’s curiosity draws him closer, his eyes narrowing in on your beaming expression. “What’s got you grinning like a fool?” He prods, his voice a mix of amusement and genuine interest.

Yoongi’s playful smirk widens, his gaze shifting between you and Jimin. “Did you guys do it in the truck or something?” He teases, his tone laced with humor and a hint of mischief.

You burst into laughter, shaking your head at Yoongi's jest. “Nah, not this time,” you reply between chuckles, exchanging a knowing glance with Jimin.

“Gross,” Taehyung grunts in mock disgust from one of the stalls, his voice echoing playfully through the wooden space.

With a gleeful grin, you extend your left hand, showcasing the glimmering ring adorning your finger like a prized possession, the sunlight from the windows catching the gemstone and casting colorful reflections around the stable.

Yoongi’s eyes widen in surprise as they dart between the ring on your finger and Jimin’s face, his voice tinged with disbelief, “You proposed?”

Your sister practically shoves Yoongi away in her eagerness to get a closer look, grabbing your hand despite the mud, her eyes widening as she takes in the glinting ring. Then, her gaze shifts to Jimin, a mixture of joy and teasing in her voice, “You finally did it, huh? I’m so happy for both of you! Congratulations!”

You give Jimin and your sister a puzzled stare, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “What do you mean? Did you know he was going to propose?”

Your sister chuckles, her eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “Yeah, me and Jungkook knew. I saw Jimin in the jewelry store, and he showed the ring to me. It’s perfect, right?” As she speaks, Jungkook appears behind her, wrapping his arms around her in a loving embrace, a grin playing on his lips.

“It absolutely is,” you reply, wiggling your fingers and soaking in the sheer joy of the moment.

With no regard for the mud covering both of you, Yoongi envelops you in a tight embrace, drawing Jimin into the hug as well. “I’m so happy for both of you,” he declares, his voice thick with emotion. As he releases you and moves toward his boyfriend for a hug, you feel the warmth of his happiness lingering in the air.

As you prepare to return home, a strange sensation grips you, a reluctance to part ways with Jimin. Despite the completion of your ranch project and the fond memories made there with him, the idea of leaving him behind feels unsettling. You feel like you’re leaving a piece of your heart behind with him. Yet, it’s a decision you’ve both agreed upon, a part of the plan to return home.

You and your sister pull up to the two-story ranch, freshly painted and gleaming in the sunlight, and a wave of disbelief washes over you. The transformation is remarkable, almost surreal. Where once stood a weathered, tired structure now stands a vibrant testament to renewal and hard work. It’s as if you’ve arrived at the wrong address, the familiarity of the old ranch replaced by the unfamiliarity of its rejuvenated form.

Your sister’s voice breaks the momentary trance, her words a gentle reminder of the significance of the place. “Home sweet home,” she declares, stepping out of the truck, her tone imbued with warmth and nostalgia.

“Yeah,” you respond, the word carrying a weight you hadn’t intended. As you shut the truck doors, a melancholic sigh escapes you, a silent acknowledgment of the bittersweet feeling settling in your chest.

Stepping into the once-familiar yet now transformed house feels like entering a parallel universe. Everything appears unchanged on the surface, but the atmosphere is different, charged with an unfamiliar energy that leaves you feeling like an outsider in your own home. Memories, both joyful and sorrowful, linger in the air like whispers of a past life now distant and unreachable.

You trudge your way to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed that feels foreign beneath you, devoid of the familiar impressions of nights past. Your gaze sweeps across the room, noticing the barren walls and the stark emptiness of the new dresser. It’s as if the fire that swept through, consumed every trace of the life you once knew, leaving only ashes in its wake. Anguish tightens your chest as you stare up at the ceiling, the truth settling in like a heavy weight on your shoulders—this place, this shell of a home, it’s not where your heart resides.

Nothing is home if Jimin isn’t there.

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 ❣️

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#jimin x reader #jimin bts #park jimin #jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin fic #jimin imagine #jimin smut #jimin x you #park jimin imagine #park jimin smut #park jimin x reader #bts jimin #park jimin x you #bts jimin x reader #park jimin imagines #park jimin bts #bts park jimin #pjm x you #pjm smut #pjm x reader #bts pjm #pjm #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts fics #jimin fluff #bts smut

[hellenicrisis]

How do you reconcile the mainstream Christian ideals of not worshipping any other god than YHWH/trinity with Hellenic paganism?

Hi sunshine! ☀️

I see this topic debated a lot and answers vary. I think one factor that makes this reconciliation easier for me is that I was raised in an athiest/agnostic household. I was then purely Hellenic pagan for a few years so I have a slightly different – some would say heretical – view of Christian/Catholic practices. For context, I am now Christopagan. I worship Hellenic (Greek) pagan deities and Jesus, and I work with some of the saints.

To my knowledge, the verses that touch on this subject are Exodus 20:3, "Thou shalt have no other gods before me", and Exodus 22:20, "He that sacrificeth unto any god, save unto the Lord only, he shall be utterly destroyed".

Now personally, I don't believe that the Bible is the word of God. I believe that the Bible is the word of man inspired by God. It is similar to how we understand the Greek myths as being written by human beings, portraying how they and society of the time interpreted the gods.

However, while man may be divinely inspired, we are also flawed. It is no secret that the church constantly seeks power, and the Bible was written during a time when paganism was the church's biggest competitor. While it was compiled roughly 200-400 years before the official outlawing of paganism, this was still a time when the church would have sought to diminish the number of pagan followers. Lines like those from Exodus were, I think, written with the agenda of turning people away from pagan faiths.

A way for the church to dominate pagan religions was to demonise the practices and to instill fear in the people, which we continue to see today. I have no problem with the Bible and I would never disrespect it, but I believe we must consider its historical context and recognise that it is, in part, religious propaganda. That's the stance I take, at least.

There are parts of the Bible I take more to heart than others. Lines that sound more like propaganda than something to bring you closer to God and to Jesus, I acknowledge as a part of history and something to be left in the past. The Greek myths are also not perfect and depict many values that are outdated and strange to us today, but again, those are aspects to be understood historically and interpreted accordingly.

This is just what I believe though and how I personally view things. Debate is welcomed, as long as it is respectful. Thank you so much for asking, sunshine!

Khaire! ☀️

#asks #answered asks #christopagan #christopaganism #pagan #paganism #polytheist #polytheism #folk catholic #folk catholicism

[sandrockianblues]

Hey how would the LIs react to being asked “would you still love me if I was a worm?” 🌚

I only did romanced male LIs for the sake of pushing this out lmao and because I’ve studied them the best but-

ASKING ROMANCED MALE LOVE INTERESTS: “Would you love me if I was a worm?”

🛍️Arvio🛍️: head empty, no thoughts. Says yes immediately. Of course he would. His love for the builder transcends even species (someone come get this boy pls 💀-) need you even ask?

“I’d still love you that even butterflies would pale in comparison to your beauty as a worm.”

_______________________________________________

🌻Burgess🌻: bewildered but excited to answer. Pure sunshine boy. Happy they’d even asked or consider the notion. Obviously he’d still love them as a worm!

“Let’s be worms together,” he smiles, “and we can build a life together amongst the flowers.”

_______________________________________________

✏️Ernest✏️: ok, he’s got this. This is nothing compared to the weird prompts he’s written to humor his audience (composed of children). If he fucks this up, he’s truly failed as a writer. Regardless of if they’re being serious or not. (Aka he literally considers this for the wrong reason but hey, at least he answered).

“You could be a worm, a drifting leaf, or even the night’s breeze- and I’d still love you.”

_______________________________________________

🌿Fang🌿: literally glances at X then back at them, wondering if they realize the immediate danger they’d be in if they were a worm. Deadass points to the bird too with a raised brow. Wants to say yes but-

“…I’d probably have given you to him for food without realizing it.” 💀

_______________________________________________

🌟Justice🌟: double checks to see if they’re buzzed or something but laughs lightly, slinging an arm around them and tugging them close, huffing into their hair as they walk.

“Sure, sweetheart. You’d be the prettiest worm ever.”

_______________________________________________

🤍Logan🤍: the quickest decliner. He’s not even really sorry. He’s a gentleman at heart but, that’s a dumb fucking question. But still, he’s not one to leave his builder sad.

He frowns, turning to face them. “Darlin’…that’s ‘bout the silliest question I’ve ever heard. ‘Course I wouldn’t. I’d use ya as bait without a thought.” Opening his arms, a teasing smile playing on the edge of his lips. “C’mere, let me hold my favorite human instead.”_______________________________________________

☀️Miguel☀️: lowkey thinks it’s a dumb question but whatever. He’ll wax his builder a bit of poetry to them if it makes his love happy.

“Wanderer of the rich soil, and a soul that sees the world for the vastness it is. You see so much for so little a creature. The wonderment in your eyes is cause enough for me to have been bewitched by you.” (Someone pls give me credit for bullshitting this pls)

_______________________________________________

💚Owen💚: thoroughly amused. A thick brow raised, cocked hip and growing crooked grin. His eyes sparkle with amusement and he’s one to play along just to melt his little builder’s heart some more, make them fall even harder for him. He is a storyteller after all.

“Doll, there isn’t anything in this world that can stop my lovesick heart from loving you. Not even if you were a worm.” What a charmer-

_______________________________________________ ✂️Pablo✂️: dumbfounded and in disbelief. Freezes in whatever he’s doing to stare at the builder, questioning if they’re serious. Another one of the honest ones.

“…sweetheart, I wouldn’t approach you or your kind with a ten foot pole.” A wink to save himself though. “So why don’t you stay human for me, huh? I’ll love you all you want if you do.”

_______________________________________________

🏅Pen🏅: lmao, sorry. He’s new to romance and is still surprised he’s landed the builder half the time when his bravado leaves him. But this?

A loud and boisterous nervous chuckle, “I’d probably crush you if you were a worm. Best if we don’t go there.”

_______________________________________________

🚀Qi🚀: hears “worm” and sidetracks before realizing what they said. Cue another confused boy who is going to give them a bit of scathing judgment and a severe questioning look.

“Worms. Members of the clitellata class. Members of the genus Lumbricus. Known for- wait, did you just ask if I’d love you as a worm?…you know I’ve dissected worms before, right? Do you still want me to answer?”

_______________________________________________

🪨Unsuur🪨: best boi confused too. Gives them an odd look, severely confused and wondering if this is just a normal thing with people that he’s been ignorant of. Gives a resounding “no” in response. The builder should follow up by asking if they were a rock, would he still love them.

Looks away, checking the dirt and sand on his boots. “You’d probably be a rare jewel if you were a rock, gem. I’d take such good care and protection of you if you were.” Talk sedimentary to him pls -

_______________________________________________

#siren speaking✨ #Mtas ask #Sandrock ask #my time at sandrock #mtas #sandrock #pathea #mtas builder #mtas logan #sandrock builder #Sandrock Logan #Mtas owen #Sandrock owen #Mtas Unsuur #Sandrock Unsuur #mtas burgess #Sandrock burgess #Mtas qi #Sandrock qi #mtas fang #Sandrock Fang #Sandrock Arvio #Sandrock Miguel #Mtas Miguel #Sandrock Justice #Mtas Justice #Mtas Pablo #Sandrock Pablo #Sandrock pen #Sandrock Ernest

[vodika-vibes]

Fox & Yuu just being together is pure sunshine ☀️

They are~

He loves them so much. And they love him just as much. Fox's brothers must give him so much shit about it too.

"So," Wolffe drawls with a shit eating grin on his face as he leans across the table to stare at his twin, "Yuu." Fox sighs and downs his entire drink, "I'm not having this conversation." "You absolutely are," Cody adds as he flings his arm, roughly, around his neck, "I can't believe that you defected for a pretty person." "I will pay you to not have this conversation." Fox says bluntly. "Mm. Not going to happen." Wolffe replies, "Come on, vod. Walk us through it. Why them?" "...they're kind." "Bullshit." "I'm being honest." Wolffe pulls back and stares at him for a moment, "Huh. You really are. You fell for her—them, sorry—because they're kind?" Fox frowns at his twin, "They want to make the galaxy a better place for the clones. There aren't many people who would do that, Wolffe. And you know it." "Well then, I'd like to get to know them." "Beg pardon?" "If they're so important to you, then I want to get to know them." Fox just sighs, "Fine. But it's up to Yuu, not you."

#star wars #star wars au #PA AU AU #So #once upon a time #I read a story for an anime I used to love #where one of the characters was Loki #and the story was Urd talking to Loki and asking him why he chose to love the person he chose #and his answer was “because she's kind” #and it stuck with me all these years

[theoddinarygirl]

If you’re feeling sad here’s this pic of Felix to make you smile 😃

#stray kids #skz #felix #lee felix #he’s pure sunshine ☀️ #our happiness

[amaretigris]

Sunshine ☀️

0.5k words | Pure fluff

• Jonah lives to make you happy. Day in and day out, he tries to do at least one small thing a day to bring a smile to your face. Whether it's buying you flowers, picking up your favorite snack, or buying you a cute plushie he passed in the store.

• You've always been grateful for this, and you try to return the favor as often as possible. Little do you know that seeing you smile is all that Jonah needs to be happy.

• There are some days when you need it more than others; some days where you feel really low. Jonah can usually tell in the morning if it's one of those days. He smothers you with kisses and cuddles you until you're ready to separate.

• He makes sure to bring you your medication with a glass of water. He sits and plays with your hair, your head laying in his lap. He lets you pick whatever movie or show you want to watch and orders you whatever you want to eat.

• You often feel guilty on these days, too. Guilty that he goes to so much trouble to take care of you. Guilty that your depression affects him also. Anytime you mention this, Jonah cradles your face in his hands and tells you how lucky he is to have you. He tells you that no matter what, he will always take care of you. He tells you that you bring him so much joy and warmth, just being in his life, as you are.

• "Never feel guilty, (Y/N). Everyone gets a little low, sometimes," he tells you before kissing your nose.

• Jonah does whatever activity you want that evening. If you want to go out to dinner, want to see a movie, want to take a stroll in the park - you name it.

• When you choose going out for dinner, he picks out one of your favorite dresses for you to wear. He knows how much you like it and how good it makes you feel. It has pockets, after all.

• Jonah brushes out your hair while you put on mascara in front of the bathroom mirror. He talks about how soft your hair is and how wonderful it smells. He then wraps his arm around your waist and puts his chin over your shoulder while you finish your makeup; just admiring you.

• The two of you have a nice, quiet dinner out. You sit outside on the patio, overlooking the water. The warm, spring breeze blows through your hair as you laugh at Jonah's jokes. He always knows how to make you laugh.

• To say that Jonah was a ray of sunshine in your life would be an understatement. He never asks for anything in return. Never expects to be repayed. He simply does it because he loves you, and feels so much love in return.

• So when the next day comes, you wake Jonah up with kisses and a back massage. You try to cater to him, and pamper him, because even the brightest sunshine needs to recharge.

#the little mermaid 2023 #jonah hauer king #jonah hauer king x reader #jonah hauer king x y/n #jonah hauer king imagine #my stuff

[intheorangebedroom]

Pleased To Meet You, chapter 13

Summary: Time and reality catch up with Frankie and you, and it’s your last night together in the orange bedroom. Are you two ready to part, even temporarily?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x French fem!Reader.

Rating: Explicit 🔞

TW: cryptic mention of self-harm. Please see the additional note at the end (to avoid spoilers).

A/N: Welcome to the angst fest. This chapter kept me awake for months, yearning for this man, so I really hope you like it, and him. And also, they’re filthy.

My endless love and gratitude to my beta. @meandorla, you are wonderful and an absolute dream✨ Your kind and wise words during the holidays kept me up and going♥️

@heythere-mel provided me with the Spanish translation and with so much kindness, Mel your cheerful mood is everything, you are pure sunshine ☀️ Thank you 😘

@deadmantis Thank you for all the inspo 🧡 Please keep them coming 🙂

Word Count: 5.1k

[prev] * [series masterlist] * [next]

Chapter 13: Perfect Day

The room suddenly falls oddly silent, as if in the aftermath of a natural disaster, or a car crash, until the sounds of your combined panting resurface. He’s lying heavy on top of you, his face sunk into the crook of your neck, and you welcome his crushing mass, your forehead pressed on the cool, hard surface of the tiled bathroom floor, your shoulders heaving furiously. 

More time passes before he can untangle his arms from underneath your limp body to raise himself on his forearms, his spent cock still sheathed inside you. The bite mark on your flesh is bright red, blood just beneath the surface of the indentation. He can make out all his teeth, count them distinctly. What has he done? 

“Shit, fuck, I hurt you,” he husks in alarm, withdrawing from you. You whimper as he moves, and a new wave of panic floods his brain. Supporting the weight of his body on his right arm, his left hand flies to the fresh scar and he starts thumbing it in a frantic rub.

“Leave it,” you whimper feebly, words barely articulated, and they don’t quite reach him over the din of his own breathing. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” he grits nervously, wiping your skin faster.

“Frankie, I said leave it,” you say louder. 

His thumb stills on your skin. With great difficulty, you brace your hands on the rug and laboriously turn onto your back between his legs. You can’t help it and you gasp at the sight of him, his soft, wet curls contrasting with the gravity of his frowned brow, his dark eyes with his skin of gold, smooth and freckled. You don’t think about your next words before you let them out. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

In the years to come, in the darkest, empty hours of the night, when you’ve run out of ways in which to hurt yourself, you will think he was never meant for you in the first place. Too soft, too smart, too beautiful. How could you possibly have kept a man like him? Better that he was taken from you before you had a chance to lose him.  

“Help me up,” you whisper once you’ve steadied your voice, and he slides a firm hand under your back to sit you up straight. The exhaustion that weighs you down is a pleasant one, and you use the momentum to climb onto his lap and straddle him, circling his broad shoulders with your arms, your chest snugly fitted against his. The crease between his brow has grown deep again. You press your lips to it and tighten your embrace.

“You can’t hurt me, Frankie, not like this,” you coo, tracing random figures on his back with the tips of your fingers, “I meant everything I said.” 

Your body’s vibrating under his palms, and when he pulls back a little to better see you, the look on your face reaches deep within him, slowing the wild thumping of his heart. You trace a trail of kisses on his eyelids, down the side of his nose, the edge of his jaw, and when you meet his lips, he opens up for you immediately. You kiss your certitude into him, and he swallows all of it. Slowly, languidly, until he stands up, lifting you easily to carry you back to the bedroom. Which is just as good, you don’t think you’ll be able to walk anytime soon.

He lays you on the sheets, and neither of you break that kiss. And you remain safely tucked in his embrace until, finally, you fall asleep.

There’s a pattern to this, he notes, sitting on the edge of the bed, relishing your even, quiet breathing. You’ll rest if he rails you. You’ll let go if he fucks the doubt out of you. 

Should he cover you? The heat hasn’t abated, but there’s a light breeze rustling the orange curtains, and you might be more comfortable if he pulled the white sheet over you, at least up to your waist. But perhaps all he wants is to wrap you in his scent again. 

He watches you a while longer before he can tear himself from your sleeping form, fencing off thoughts of the morning to come. He can't let them taint what little time you two have left. But he has to think, however, about after. How to formulate his request for a bond to tie you to him. He could take your number, your address. Ask you to wait. Word it, plain and clear. He’s yours. You’re his. 

Is it fair, though, asking you to attach yourself to a man who will most likely one day go to war? You’re younger than him, just a few years, but enough to have him question his rights to ask this much, if he even has any. You’ve a mind cut out for books and learning and academic achievements. What has he got to offer? Piles of paperbacks, a bag of clothes, and a pair of orange curtains. Questions about his past, an empty space where a father should stand.  

He’s got himself. That’s all he has. He knows his worth. And he’ll offer you that. You could try, at least for a while, cheat the distance, ignore the passage of time, write and call and fly across the globe into each other’s arms at every occasion. Would it work? He knows the answer to that. It’s in the tranquil, rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, in your emerging confidence, in your serene, sleeping face. It’s in your touch and in your eyes and in your trust. It’s in the peacefulness he’s never known until now. Of course, it would work.

Standing up, eventually, he walks over to the stack of clothes you neatly folded the day before, and slips on his black briefs. Another glance in your direction, and he goes to the kitchen sink, opening the tap to fill up a tall glass of water.

On the countertop near the front door, his cellphone lies face down where he threw it when he came home with you on Friday night. It feels like forever ago, now. In the best possible way. 

Unsurprisingly, the phone is dead, and it takes him a few minutes to retrieve the charger, in his bedroom by the bed, and walk back to the other room to plug it in. 

He thought himself ready, but reality still kicks him in the gut when the small Nokia screen lights up, ominously glaring with 12 missed calls and 16 unread messages. He runs a weary palm over his face before he can bring himself to look into it, and he lets out a relieved sigh when he realises that most notifications are from his sister. 

There’s a weekend’s worth of her daily reminders of “You can still change your mind, there’s no shame in it,” a phrase she’s delivered in person or by text ever since he enrolled. Most messages are practical inquiries about the apartment, and his last days as a civilian. Is he packed? Does he need help? Is there something in particular she needs to know before she meets with his landlord on Monday afternoon?

Frankie tries to focus on the practicalities, feeling a surge of affection for his sister. The thorough care and consideration with which she’s sending him off, despite her disapproval of his choice of path. And now, he’s not so sure if he wouldn’t rather she was still sulking. 

He’s just through sending her a fifth message, hunched over the kitchen counter, when you walk up behind him, sliding your arms around his torso and pecking a kiss between his shoulders, the tension he didn’t even register had built in his frame dropping instantly. 

You release your embrace and go around him, casually leaning against the Formica countertop, when you realise what he’s doing. 

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were… sending sms? How do you say it in English?” you ask.

“Texting,” he answers with a soft smile. “It’s fine. It’s Izzy, my sister. About tomorrow,” he adds, a tick in his jaw, a nervous tic of his you’re growing accustomed to. 

You’ve put on your panties and you’re wearing his shirt again, the sides of it framing your naked breasts. He considers asking you to keep it. He doesn’t really give a shit if that makes him sound too needy.

“She’s coming to pick you up, right?” He nods and you ask again, “What time are you leaving?” 

“6 a.m.,” he replies, his teeth slightly clenched. 

You mull over your next words. You’re intuitive, but far too sincere to be considered subtle. Incapable of concealing anything, despite your inclination for secrecy. So you opt for a straightforward question.

“Do you need time alone to get ready? Perhaps you should rest, I should leave you-”

He stands up straight, rising to his impressive full height, silencing the rest of your sentence with his silhouette towering over yours. 

“Stay.”

You tilt up your head to look him in the eyes, dark, overshadowed by that damn crease between his brow. 

“I will. I am.”

You grasp the countertop so you don’t sway when he smiles so deeply his dimple shows. His arm goes around your waist under his shirt and his hand splays possessively in the small of your back. 

“I like your skin,” he says, strengthening his hold. 

“I like your lips,” you whisper, and you reach for them, the kiss deepening rapidly, threatening to become something else, something more, until the ringtone of his phone pulls you apart.

He doesn’t let go of you as he reads the message and answers it, and when he’s done, he throws the phone on the counter and returns his full attention to you, pressing his mouth on the fresh scar at the base of your neck. He was so quick to figure what gets you off, but you still feel sore from earlier, in the bathroom, so you resist the pull in your lower belly and ask, “Can I help you with something? Do you need to tidy up the place?”

As you say it, you realise the apartment is already as clean as it gets, but Frankie picks up on your hint and slightly draws away from you, giving you a little space. 

“No, not really. Izzy’s coming tomorrow afternoon to pack up the sheets, the towels, and the curtains. The rest isn’t mine.” 

Your eyes widen as your eyebrow shoot up to your hairline and you gasp in horror, “Jesus Frankie, you’re telling me your sister is gonna see those sheets?”

His laughter rumbles from the depth of his chest. It’s the first time you hear him laugh so resoundingly, and your heart sinks a little because it retains the breathy quality of his voice.

“Yea, and she’s gonna see you too, tomorrow morning, so she’ll know who’s the culprit.”

You burst into a silly giggle and slap his shoulder in mock reproach. He draws you in again, wanting to feel you laugh with his whole body. He can’t help his next question, he needs to know and it’s better to ask now, with the light mood you two are in.

“When are you going back home?”

You scrunch up your nose to think, not even sure of what day today is anymore.

“End of August? Uni starts in October, so I’ll have a month to work full time and save some money.”

“What will you do with the rest of your summer?” He does his very best to conceal the ache from this one, your remaining time on this continent, that he won’t be spending with you, before the ocean spreads your two bodies further apart, but it’s useless, it seems. You tuck yourself against him before you answer, speaking into his neck.

“More museums, probably. Coney Island. I’ll go back to the Algonquin, take pictures. I want to see the Guggenheim again.”

He nuzzles into your hair, his words muffled, “You been to the MoMa yet?”

“Yes,” you look up at him, “but I prefer the Guggenheim. The building itself, I mean. It’s 80% of the experience, to me. I don’t know, it’s so… sexy?”

You chuckle in self-derision and hide your face in his neck again, and you feel more than hear his breathy laugh. 

“Sexy? You wanna elaborate?”

You lean back against the counter, moving away from his heat so you can focus and think over your arguments. 

“Ok, yes, sensual might be a better term. The coiling structure? It’s like… an ascent? A building orgasm? I find it somehow soft, yet dramatic. I like the open space that doesn’t feel impersonal, it’s like a womb, I don’t know. I don’t necessarily care for the art in it, actually, I’m more classic in my tastes, but this building does something to me,” you finish, throwing your palms up.

You bask in his luminous smile, the gleam of his soft eyes that have regained their warm, brown shade. 

“Yea, ok, I understand.”

At times, he thinks you might be aware of the extent of what you do to him. But mostly he’s convinced that you haven’t got a clue. 

“Do you like the MoMa better?” you ask.

“Not anymore, I don’t,” he jokes. 

He pushes the half-full glass of water towards you and you drink it up, before asking again, “Who’s your favourite painter? Do you have one?” 

“Oh yea, that’s easy, Gerhard Richter,” he answers quickly. 

You furrow your brow, “That’s super abstract, no?” 

“I guess, maybe, not everything. Who’s yours?” he adds, taking a step closer to you after you’ve put the glass down.  

You rest your hand on his forearm as you pause to decide.

“Eugène Carrière, probably.” Frankie shakes his head, indicating he doesn’t know the name. “He was a 19th century French painter… He painted in grey, brownish, kind of sepia tones. I don’t know how to explain it, I’m not an art student,” you shrug, always a lingering apology about your words. Yet, you carry on, “What I love is that, it should be dark, and gloomy, but it’s not. It’s very luminous, lots of golden tones. And what I like best is that, from afar, his paintings look defined, but the closer you get, the blurrier the edges, the brush strokes look so light, almost… I don’t know, not there?”

Frankie swallows the lump in his throat before he can close the distance between you completely. Tilting your face up between his thumb and index, he kisses your parted lips, peeking out his tongue to find yours. He only breaks it to lean into the crook of your neck, breathing you in, and pecking the mark he left there. 

“Fuck, baby, I really love your skin,” he whispers against the imprint of his teeth. 

You press your body into his, where he stands tall and strong, with all of your strength, and he doesn’t even budge. 

“And I really, really love your lips.” 

—

The light’s grown dim again in the orange bedroom, a dreaded physicality of the time you got left. 

Standing by his nightstand, Frankie’s been staring into the empty box of condoms for the past two minutes, as if this might conjure up an extra one. He could run to the deli on Manhattan Ave, but that would lose him a half hour between your arms. Still, it’s better than not having you one last time. 

When you exit the bathroom, his sadness startles you. You see him tossing something back into the creaking drawer, but can’t make out what it is, and it’s only when you level up with him that you understand. 

“Hey, it’s fine” he says, more to himself than to you, his voice restrained, “we don’t need to– you’re probably still sore from-”

You silence him with your entire body thrown against his, arms flung around his shoulders.

“Frankie I don’t fucking care, I want you inside me, I want you to fill all my holes,” you plead.

“Take this off,” he rasps, nearly ripping his shirt off your shoulders.

You expect him to be rough again, urgent and brisk in his need; he cradles the back of your head in his hand, instead, kissing you as he lowers you onto the bed. His hands roam restlessly over your body, his palms pressed on your skin, as if trying to cover you entirely and all at once. He breathes you in, your cheek, your temple, your hair, his muscles shuddering under your touch.

“I wanna taste what I do to you, baby,” he murmurs in your ear in a low, husky tone, and you shut your eyes, your arousal pooling down your folds at his command, “I wanna drink you up, I wanna remember your taste.”

He nibbles your earlobe, skates the bridge of his nose along the line of your throat, and when he reaches the slope of your shoulder, Frankie thinks to himself, “one more, just this one more,” and draws in your skin with a strong suck, his cock hardened at the sound of your moan, the expression of your total abandon. 

His eyes remain locked on your face, his lips sealed to your skin, this is about recording you, in whole and in parts, the sensation of your reactions, the thrill of your shivers, and he’d suck on your skin harder if only he knew how this will end, that what is to come are too many years imprisoned in his head, rummaging through his memories in search of your forgotten taste. 

His mouth slides along your collarbone, and he tastes you there, too, gathering on his tongue the salty flavour of your sweat from the dip of your throat, oblivious to his own grunts, lost in the light touch of your fingers on his back. You writhe underneath him, and it’s like a dance. 

Cupping your breasts, he kneads the soft flesh, gentle at first, then with a mind to imprint his touch, so that you too won’t forget. You wrap your legs around his waist and twine your fingers in his curls. You won’t forget, that is your curse. 

He sucks in your nipple, pulls on it between his teeth and when you hiss your pleasure, he decides that one last mark is not enough, he’ll leave another one on the swell of your breast. 

Then it’s a sharp inhale between your legs, spread by his broad shoulders, his nose pressed to the dampened fabric of your underwear. Your hips arch against his face, and he holds you down with an arm barred across your belly, the other one clutching your thigh, biting your clothed mound with a primitive grunt that makes you quiver and quake. 

Words get stuck in your throat when you want to beg him to take, take, take, so you buck your hips again instead. 

Frankie shuts his eyes, resting his forehead against your panties, willing his waning control to endure just a little longer. Willing himself to savour when he wants to devour. 

The slow drag of the cottony fabric along your legs is a never-ending torture, followed by the soothing graze of his stubble, but he feels you squirm under his hold, and he has no desire to keep you waiting too long. To you, he knows it now, there’s nothing he will ever deny. He licks a broad stripe along your core and, slowly, dips his tongue inside your cunt. You exhale your relief, tugging at his hair with the urgency of despair. 

Thorough and gentle all at once, he drives his tongue in and out, deep, unhurried, and meticulous, the curve of his nose rubbing on your swollen clit, and when he feels your legs twitch, he releases his hold, and pauses. Kissing it better, in hopes to make it last, when he knows you won’t be able to give him as much as you want, as much as he needs, and anyway, that’s not how he wants to make you come. 

Ruefully, he draws away from you, kneeling between your open legs, and your body goes slack on the bed with his retreat. 

No words are spoken. Holding your core against his throbbing cock, a bruising, possessive grip on the dip above your hips, he waits for you to lift up your head, your dazed, unfocused eyes finding his. And on your imperceptible nod, he lines himself up. 

He wants to watch, he needs to see, where he splits you open, and the look on your face as he slides inside you bare, inch after inch, your tight skin catching around the heft of him. His eyes flick frantically between the place where you’re joined and your beautiful face, your parted lips, your hooded eyes, the unquenchable want he finds there. 

The nightstand lamp casts a golden hue in his dark eyes. You record his loving gaze, it carries all the tenderness you’ve never received. You record the warm tone of his skin, the feeling of his touch, the delight of his scent. 

Your hands skate up his forearms in a soundless request. He leans forward, covering you, his fingers splayed on your sides as yours find the V shape of his hair on his damp nape. 

His strokes are deep, barely pulling out before he thrusts in even further, grinding his hips against your ass, tracing open-mouth kisses along your jaw, under your ear, down your neck, and you’re sinking in, engulfed, from within and from outside, all around, enveloped in his scent, lost in his warmth, wrapped in his arms.

You want to call him darling, or chéri, you want to say mon amour, but all that passes your lips is Frankie, because it is the sweetest name, because it tastes like honey and floods your inner world, because Frankie is all that there is left inside your brain. 

Years from now, you will still cry out his name, your face hidden into your tear-stained pillow, your empty body heaving with pain, with want, with regrets, the faint prayer of Frankie Frankie Frankie flowing out of you. 

So it is Frankie, you say, as you take his hand to place it on the soft flesh of your lower belly, your skin glistening with his sweat, “Frankie, can you feel yourself inside me? Can you feel me around you? Can you feel it?”

Frankie watches the tear that rolls down your temple, his chest constricted with a brand-new sort of pain, he presses his hand harder, and his forehead to yours and he whispers, “I feel you, baby, I feel everything, I feel only you.”

A heavy sob shakes your chest, so Frankie hooks his arms under your knees and his hands around your shoulders and crushes you under his weight, buries himself inside you and grinds. Heels shoved into his back, you’re blindingly stretched around him, he knows you’re going to feel him for days, with what he’s making you take, knows that’s what you want, too, and something primal rips in his chest, he wants to tear it open and fit you in there, carry you with him everywhere. 

He brushes his lips against yours, his voice hoarse and low when he speaks into your mouth, “I’m gonna come inside you, baby, I’m gonna come inside you.” 

Tears flow freely from the corner of your eyes, sliding down to your hairline. You dig your nails in his back, and he hopes you're going to leave a mark, he’s breathing inside your mouth, and it is with his breath that you answer, “Come with me, Frankie.” 

He nods his answer and it’s only a few more strokes before he feels your cunt start to flutter, your body pulled taut in his hold, your nails breaking his skin. He buries his face in your neck and lets go, finally lets go of everything, pouring it into your wanting, open body, into your soul, thick ropes of come painting your slick walls, empties himself, fills you up, surrenders to you. 

Your breathing comes in short and shaky, but a rush of cold jolts you up when the air hits your sweat-dampened skin as his body leaves yours. 

“No!” you cry out, sitting up on your elbow to see Frankie crouching down between your legs again. 

Carefully, his fingers part your swollen, aching folds. That primal pang fires through his chest again, at the sight of your cunt leaking his spend. He wraps his plush lips around it and plunges his tongue inside you, gathering his essence and yours. Another sob threatens to break through you and you clasp your hand on your mouth to hold it back. 

When he’s sure to have it all, he sits up and braces himself over you on one arm, brushing your damp hair off your face, brushing the tears rolling down your temple with the work-worn, calloused pads of his fingers, wishing he could drink it up. His thumb presses gently on your bottom lip, prompting you to open for him, and when you do, he lets it roll down along his tongue into your wanting mouth. He watches you swallow, watches the bobbing of your lean throat. 

Years later, this image will keep invading his thoughts, in foreign brothels, in humid jungles, in scorching deserts. He will think about it in regrets that he didn’t fuck it deeper inside of you instead.

Frankie lowers his face close to yours, “I’m gonna sleep inside you, tonight, baby.” 

You nod with what little strength you have left and wrap your arms around his shoulders, your lips seeking his, as he sheaths his still-hard cock inside you. Sliding his arms around your waist, he draws you in and rolls with you on his side. You snuggle your face against his chest, his skin scalding your skin like a fever, and you fall asleep almost instantly. 

—

The night brings him no rest. He wakes up as soon as he slides out of you, pulling you in closer, burying his face in your hair until he can’t breathe anymore. 

Awake when you stir and you stretch. Awake still, or again, when you moan feebly in your sleep. 

When his alarm chimes at 5am, Frankie has barely slept. 

You jolt in his arms, mumbling, “Shit, did we oversleep?” and the pronoun nearly brings tears to his tired eyes. 

It takes you a moment to register the darkness outside, as you rub off the sleep from your eyes, perched on the edge of the bed. The air has shifted, a cold breeze wafts in the orange bedroom through the curtains and you shiver in the silence. 

Frankie slips on his clothes, finally deciding against giving you his shirt. It bears your powdery scent, he’ll take that with him. 

Neither of you want to shower the other off your skin. Instead, he packs his books and clothes in his duffle bag, and you offer to prepare some coffee. 

You’re fully dressed when he joins you in the kitchen, handing him a mug. 

“Mmh,” he smacks his lips, “you make good coffee. Strong. You want some sugar?”

“No, cheers, just milk.”

You run your fingers on his back before walking back to the bedroom, where you start folding the sheets. 

You hear him rummaging frantically through the cabinets and drawers, and when he reappears in the doorway, he’s visibly flustered.  His low voice comes in tense when he asks, “Do you have a pen?”

You retrieve a fountain pen from your purse and go back with him to the kitchen. He’s ripped a small, rectangular piece of paper, on which he writes down some numbers. He hands it to you, but holds on to it when you grab it. 

“Swear you’ll call me,” he pleads, and you know there is not enough love on your lips to ease the crease off his brow. What he needs are your words. 

“I swear,” you answer. 

When Frankie locks the front door, it’s for the very last time, two years’ worth of memories numbing his fingers. He follows you down the narrow stairwell, the atmosphere devoid of the electric anticipation it carried two days ago. 

Down in the street, you are greeted by a swirling wind and bleak morning light. Frankie nods silently in the direction of a parked VW Golf a few cars down, where a bespectacled brunette waves back enthusiastically. You offer a bright smile and a sign with your hand, and Frankie focuses on the prospect of the two of you properly meeting, one day. One day soon. 

“We should drop you off. Do you know which way to go?” His voice sounds gruff and bears the weight of his exhaustion.  

“No, thank you, you’ll be late. Don’t worry. I know my way. I’m a big girl from a big city,” you add with a wink. 

Frankie bows down his head, shaking it left and right, his resolve failing him, so you broaden your smile and cup his face in your hands. 

“I will call you tonight. I can’t wait to hear your voice. You’re going to be a pilot, Frankie! You will fly me over the fucking Andes.”

A sad smile barely lifting the corner of his lips, he’s taken aback by the strength emanating from your trustful features, no apparent traces of sadness, no more blurry edges. He didn’t fuck that into you, even he couldn’t. That strength you’re giving him, is all you.  

He gives you one last, shy kiss. 

You part, eventually. 

Taking the direction of Manhattan Ave, you turn around one last time to watch him get inside his sister’s car, the little piece of paper with his number safely tucked in your jean pocket. You should have told him to be safe, you really wanted to, but it sounded ominous, like a farewell. 

“I can’t believe you!” Izzy laughs as he takes the passenger seat in her Golf, “until the last fucking moment!”

Frankie fastens his seatbelt, flinching.

“You know you can still change your mind, hermanito? No shame in it,” she taunts him for what has got to be the hundredth time. 

“Yea, well, maybe I will,” he mumbles. 

Izzy’s hands stills on the ignition, her black eyes searching her brother’s face. Flying is the only thing he has talked about since he was 10 years old.

“Hermanito estas bien? Who’s this girl?” Izzy asks in a quiet voice. 

Frankie bends down and retrieves a red cap from the bag between his legs. He combs his fingers through his unruly curls, sets the cap firmly on his head, and your name passes his lips for what is going to be the last time in the next sixteen years. 

****

Additional note: it is not spelled out but Reader actually never had unprotected sex and she’s on the pill. Same for Frankie (aside from the pill, it’s a patriarcal world 🙄) who, moreover, just had his physicals. All this to say: please wear condoms.

Taglist (thank you 🧡): @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @nicolethered @littleone65 @bands-tv-movies-is-me @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8 @all-the-way-down-here @deadmantis @hbc8 @princessdjarin @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos

#pleased to meet you #Francisco Catfish Morales #Frankie Morales #The Pilot™️ #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x ofc #triple frontier fic #ben miller #benny miller #santiago pope garcia #will miller #william ironhead miller #triple frontier #pedro pascal #garret hedlund #oscar isaac #charlie hunnam #frankie friday #my beloved Yovanna #adria arjona #feral frankie friday #francisco catfish morales #the pilot™️ #the husband one #the one and only #Frankie #Frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales/fem!reader #frankie morales/you

[re-bee-key]

I just love Luffy so much 😭

He's such a joyous boy. ☀️ Literal sunshine. His smile is so infectious. When he talks about chasing dreams and freedom, I can't help but smile and want to follow him to the ends of the map and back. He's truly the guy everyone should grab a drink with. King energy.

He's so pure and sweet and fully embodies freedom in a way ive never seen before. Gosh. I just love him so much. Pirate King of my heart ❤️

#can you tell what i did there #hehe #one piece #monkey d. luffy #my captain my captain #one piece live action #opla #one piece spoilers #kinda #lol #sneaky spoilers

[rockitmans]

Blaine Anderson Vs Valentine's Day (5/14)

Summary: Blaine drunk posts on his Instagram asking for a date for Valentine's Day. He gets one.

Notes: Written for the @klaineccfanficlibrary Valentine Challenge. Today's song is You're The Best Thing by The Style Council

This one's for @cerriddwenluna who has not only been a wonderful cheerleader for this fic but also inspired this chapter with our mutual Elliott love

Read on AO3 or below

~~~~~~~

Blaine wakes up with his phone pressed against his cheek. He'd stayed up so late talking to Kurt that he'd fallen asleep in the middle of typing out a sentence. He can barely believe how long they spent chatting. They just clicked so instantly that everything felt easy. The conversation meandered with the joyful flow of close friends, helped along by the huge amount they seem to have in common. 

Blaine is slightly suspicious he really did manage to manifest Kurt into being through pure wish power. He's that perfect. Or maybe he has some glaring flaw that has yet to reveal itself. Maybe he thinks that Katy Perry is overrated. 

Blaine flips open his DMs, not really expecting much, but is delighted to see a new message from Kurt. 

Kurt: Good morning, sunshine ☀️

It's a simple enough message but it tells Blaine two things. That Kurt isn't interested in playing games with him, which is nice after the mental gymnastics he occasionally went through with his exes. And that Kurt woke up thinking about him. Which means Blaine isn't alone.

Blaine: Good morning. I have to go to my real person job today 😔

Kurt: Same here. Catch you later though?

Blaine: Absolutely 

*

Blaine's Real Person Job is at his local record store but he barely considers it work. He just gets to talk to people about music all day. He also gets to hang out with his favourite colleague, Elliott, who always buys him a morning coffee without fail. Angels exist in the form of Elliott Gilbert. 

"Morning, Bee," Elliott greets him, pushing a Starbucks cup into his hand. He peers into Blaine's face. "You okay, skipper? You look tired."

"I was up most of the night," Blaine admits. 

"Lucky you." Elliott waggles his eyebrows and Blaine glares playfully.

"Not for that. Um… Sebastian and I broke up actually."

"Oh." Elliott frowns. "Is it too early to admit I never liked him? Or are we still in the 'mourning and pretending he was wonderful' stage?" 

Blaine laughs weakly. "Insult away. He cheated on me."

Elliott stiffens. "Where does he live, again?"

"No. You're not killing Sebastian."

"Not even like a little spook? Some casual threats of violence?"

"No."

"Fine," Elliott sighs. "But seriously, how are you holding up?"

Blaine thinks about it. Waking up with thoughts of Kurt had kept the grief at bay. And, if he's being really honest with himself, Sebastian was always more fun than Forever. They were never going to be picking out paint samples or arguing over who would pay for the Netflix account. He just wishes Sebastian had told him the expiry was up on their relationship and that they had parted amicably. Not that he had fucked a random from the gym. 

"I'm doing okay," he says honestly. "More pissed off that he cheated than about the relationship being over."

"Understandable."

"And…" Blaine hesitates, wondering if it's too early to start talking about Kurt. 

"And?" Elliott echoes curiously. 

"Well… And don't judge me. I kind of started talking to someone else."

"Blaine Anderson, you slut," Elliott gasps, sounding thrilled. "Tell me everything."

"Not like that. Just. A guy messaged me on Instagram."

"Oh my God."

"I know, I know. But honestly it's all been very wholesome. We talked all night. It was kind of wonderful actually."

"That is… incredibly boring but I'm thrilled for you, truly."

"Sorry you can't vicariously live your sex life through me," Blaine says tartly. "I hate to disappoint."

"That's ok. I'm used to disappointment."

Blaine flips him off and Elliott laughs.

"Just be careful, okay?" Elliott adds more seriously. "Not everyone is who they claim to be on the internet."

"I'm being careful," Blaine lies. "It's not like I'm planning to meet him anytime soon." The dinner reservation at Di Fara set for less than two weeks away  flashes like a beacon in his mind. He could so easily invite Kurt. He ignores the impulse. 

Elliott hums doubtfully. He knows Blaine far too well.

*

Blaine makes it a grand total of four hours before he messages Kurt again. Which is fine and normal and completely chill, actually. 

Blaine: I'm on lunch if you wish to be bothered

It takes Kurt fifteen minutes to respond and Blaine spends the time bouncing his knee anxiously and reminding himself that Kurt actually does have A Life and it's not all about him. Unfortunately.

Kurt: Bother away 

Kurt: How's real life going?

Blaine: Extremely boring

Kurt: Mine too. No cute, half naked guys in my Insta feed today 😔

Blaine: Listen

"What are you smiling about so much?" Elliott interjects, wandering into the break room and stealing a bite of Blaine's sandwich. He looks at the phone in Blaine's hand. "Oh my God. Are you talking to your Instagram man right now? Your Insta-man?"

"Shut up."

"That's not a no."

"I thought this was a safe space," Blaine complains and Elliott cackles. 

"I'm not judging. You're adorable. "

"You say you're not judging but your tone says otherwise."

"Don't leave him on read," Elliott urges, waving him away and grabbing a magazine. "God forbid I get in the way of 'true love.'"

"I can hear the quotation marks," Blaine mutters but he glances back at his phone. 

Kurt: I'm listening intently 

Blaine: Sorry. My friend interrupted my flow to ask me why I was smiling so much

Kurt: Oh? And why ARE you smiling so much

Blaine: I've made a horrible mistake

Kurt: 😂

Blaine: I'm being bullied from all sides today

Kurt: No. I've been smiling all day too. Because of you, to be clear.

Kurt: It's going to be very awkward if you weren't smiling because of me now 

Blaine laughs, ignoring Elliott's pointed cough. 

Blaine: Don't worry.

Blaine: It was definitely because of you

#fic: ba vs valentine's day #klaine fic #klaine fanfiction #my fic