#the title of the notes was like 'soft epilogue'

[kingofbodyrolls]

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

🐴Chapter summary: Life with Jimin is perfect— he is the man of your dreams and you feel like you’re living the perfect life. Until someone from the past shows up, scatters your world and leaves you utterly heartbroken.

🐴Chapter title: Broken Dreams

🐴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 (she’s more like an OC, but isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jiimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters.

🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst

🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

🐴Chapter warnings: angst, unprotected sex, spanking, nipple play, fingering, oral (female), scratching at back, hair pulling, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, a lot of crying and heartbreak I am so sorry 😭 there is also a mention of pregnancy (not reader!!!) and a lot of jealousy— I’M SO SORRY 😭

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

🐴Word count: 14.4k

🐴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 💿 “Broken Dreams” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?]

🐴Author’s note: I’m just gonna come out and say it: you’re gonna hate me again (and OC too), lol. This chapter is bittersweet and I’m really really sorry for the ending! 😭 It was very tough to write with all the angst and heartache.. But please know that the sun will shine on them again ☀️ And all the angst is almost over!!! 🥹 

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

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“It’s so fragile Easy broken It’s so fragile, and it goes so slow” - ‘Broken Dreams’ by Rebecca Lavelle

As the months whirl by in a blur of blissful moments, you find yourself lost in the sweet rhythm of love with Jimin. Each passing day is a testament to the depth of your affection, from the shared laughter in your work endeavors to the cozy nights spent intertwined in each other's embrace. Tonight is no different, with Jimin nestled beside you, his presence a comforting reassurance of your bond.

You find yourself roused from sleep earlier than usual, a rare moment where you get to simply observe him in his slumber – typically, it’s him stirring you awake. Yet today, the tables have turned, affording you the chance to marvel at his serene form. His face appears angelic, though you’ve also witnessed the mischievous glint that occasionally dances across his features. As he rests, a tranquil air envelops him, his face a study in tranquility; closed eyes, a delicately proportioned nose with a hint of mischief in its slight bump and ample nostrils. It’s an endearing combination, rendering him undeniably charming – a concoction of cuteness, handsomeness, and raw allure that leaves you spellbound.

Your gaze lingers on his flawless lips, plush and inviting, reminiscent of those on a Bratz doll – soft, pouty, and undeniably cute. It’s a marvel how lips can exude such innocence and allure simultaneously. The urge to kiss him swells within you, a magnetic pull drawing you closer with each passing moment.

His bangs cascade delicately across his forehead, a tousled masterpiece that you contributed to last night, a testament to the passion shared between you. Even in disarray, his hair frames his face perfectly, accentuating his captivating features. Every glance at him only deepens your admiration; he's a vision of beauty that leaves you utterly spellbound.

As he breathes, delicate moans escape his lips like whispers of contentment, each one painting a serene smile across your lips. Gently, you reach out and brush aside a stray strand of hair, revealing more of his peaceful face. In slumber, he appears almost otherworldly, his features softened by the tranquility of rest. Cupping his cheek, you feel the weight of his sigh resonate within you, a symphony that sets your heart aflutter with adoration.

A gentle stir ripples through his sleeping form, and you find yourself pondering whether he’ll awaken soon. With a day brimming ahead, perhaps it’s time to rouse him from his slumber?

You tenderly cradle his cheek once more, and in a soft, breathless murmur, your name escapes his lips as he nuzzles deeper into the warmth of your hand.

His eyes remain closed, yet he stirs with a newfound awareness, his voice filled with the warmth of morning sunlight. “It’s always a treasure waking up next to you,” he murmurs, his words like gentle caresses against the dawn.

Your smile blooms like a secret garden, unseen but felt in the air, as his words weave a tapestry of affection around you. Each syllable resonates deep within, echoing the sentiments you hold close. The days without him stretch like barren deserts, devoid of color and life, longing for the oasis of his presence.

“Kiss me,” his voice, a gentle whisper, carries a subtle plea as he utters those two simple words, a request laced with anticipation and tenderness. Though his eyes remain veiled behind the curtain of sleep, the soft curve of his lips tells a story of affection, inviting you into a moment of shared intimacy.

With a soft chuckle dancing on your lips, you lean in to meet his lips, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours in a delicate exchange. Each kiss is a symphony of tenderness and desire, a silent promise of unwavering devotion. Straddling his hips, you lose yourself in the sweetness of his lips, savoring every moment of the intoxicating lust between you.

His touch is a gentle caress, his palms radiating warmth as they cradle your cheeks. It’s as if his hands are a sanctuary, offering solace and reassurance in their tender embrace.

You draw back, gazing at his flushed face, captivated by the softness of his lips, irresistible in their plump allure. Unable to resist, you lean in once more, your lips meeting his in a fervent dance. Beneath you, his laughter ripples like a melody, adding a playful rhythm to your intimate symphony.

Finally, he unveils his eyes, locking onto your mesmerizing gaze. In that moment, you are a breathtaking masterpiece, his heart’s sole desire reflected in your every feature. You are his everything, his world encapsulated in your presence.

“Good morning,” he rasps, his voice a delicious blend of morning huskiness and raw desire, sending a shiver down your spine. With a tender touch, he brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear, his fingers lingering as if savoring the sensation of your skin.

“Good morning, babe,” you chirp, your voice filled with morning cheer and affection, eliciting a chuckle from him that rumbles beneath you, unveiling those endearing crooked teeth of his, adding to his irresistible charm.

You press your hips against his, feeling the unmistakable hardness of his dick, and a needy moan escapes your lips. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, a testament to your insatiable desire for him, leaving you yearning for more of his intoxicating presence.

His hands eagerly grasp your hips, his gaze locking with yours in a fiery intensity and so much love. The depth of emotion swirling in those captivating brown eyes renders you breathless, and it should be illegal.

“Babe,” his voice, teasing and laced with desire, sends shivers down your spine as you continue to grind against him, a mischievous smirk dancing across your lips. 

“Hm?” You respond with a low, seductive hum, your teeth sinking gently into your plump lower lip, your eyes smoldering with desire as you lock gazes with him. Your expression, a tantalizing blend of need and longing, silently conveys your hunger for him.

“Weren’t yesterday enough?” In his chuckle, there’s a playful tease, yet his hands, now firmly gripping your hips and gently sliding to caress your ass, speak volumes of his unspoken desire.

“No. I can never get enough of you Jimin,” you declare with a breathy whisper, your voice laden with longing and desire, as you lean in to capture his lips once more. With every kiss, the hunger between you intensifies, driving you to press your clothed core against his now fully hard cock, seeking the electrifying friction that ignites fireworks between your bodies.

He releases a primal moan, his desire echoing through the room as he draws you closer, his arms enveloping you in a fiery embrace that ignites every nerve ending in your body.

“I see. I can’t get enough of you either,” he murmurs, lifting you gently, his gaze fixated on you with an intensity that makes your heart race. You’re a fucking goddess, hair tousled in a captivating disarray, cheeks flushed with desire, and eyes ablaze with a hunger that mirrors his own.

He delivers a firm slap to your ass, eliciting a gratifying moan from you. “Take your clothes off for me,” he commands, his voice laced with a potent mix of desire and authority.

You gaze down at your form, clad in the silky, provocative pajamas consisting of a camisole and shorts. With a deliberate motion, you seize the edge of the camisole and peel it off your body, allowing your breasts to spill out in a tantalizing display that elicits a deep groan from Jimin. His hands eagerly encircle your breasts, reveling in their softness and warmth.

“Fuck, I love your breasts. So beautiful like the rest of you,” his words send shivers down your spine as he admires your breasts with an intensity that ignites desire within you. You can feel his dick against you as you grind yourself further into his cock from outside the thin duvet.

His gentle tugs on your erect nipples send electric currents of desire surging through your veins, igniting a primal heat within you. The rush of lust floods your senses, pooling between your thighs and making you ache with need. You moan again, as you keep grinding yourself down on him.

“Now take your shorts and panties off.” His command is firm yet enticing, echoing in the air with a promise of untamed desire. You comply eagerly, shedding your shorts and panties with a sense of urgency, revealing yourself to him in all your naked splendor. As you hover above him, vulnerable yet empowered, the raw intensity between you crackles with anticipation, igniting a primal hunger that begs to be sated.

You sway your body tantalizingly above him, a seductive dance in the dim morning light. His laughter rumbles beneath you like a low, smoldering fire, igniting the already charged atmosphere. With a playful yet possessive touch, he spanks your ass gently, sending a thrill coursing through your veins.

“Now it’s your turn,” you murmur in a husky tone, a symphony of desire dripping from your lips as you seize the edge of the duvet, unveiling his chiseled form beneath. He’s just sleeping in his boxers and god, his physique, handsome and strong, so sculpted with his dedication to all the hard work around the ranch. 

You’re practically salivating as your fingers dance over his skin like eager flames, tracing the lines of his physique with a hunger that betrays your longing. From the inviting curve of his collarbones to the sculpted landscape of his abdomen, your touch ignites a trail of sensations that leave you breathless. Finally, your fingertips linger over the tantalizing bulge straining in his boxers.

With a teasing smile playing on your lips, you press yourself against him once more, the wetness from your pussy seeping through the fabric of his boxers, igniting a symphony of shared moans between you. 

You shift into a seated position, your eyes glinting mischievously as you playfully tug at the waistband of his boxers, “These are in the way.”

You gracefully slide to his side, giving him room to remove his boxers. As he swiftly tosses them aside, he playfully pins you down onto the mattress, eliciting a joyful giggle from you. In that moment, amidst laughter and desire, your heart brims with a potent mix of love and lust.

He descends to kiss you with a fervor that ignites every fiber of your being, his lips meeting yours in a tantalizing dance of desire. As the intensity of his kiss deepens, you feel his cock pressing against your lower stomach.

“Babe, you’re so pretty,” he breathes out, his voice laden with desire as he reluctantly withdraws from your lips. With a deliberate slowness, he embarks on a journey down your body, pausing at your neck where he showers you with a cascade of tender kisses, each one igniting a new wave of sensation within you.

You giggle and squirm in his embrace, his fingertips dancing along your skin, sending delightful shivers down your spine as his touch tickles you relentlessly.

“Jimin, stop teasing me,” you giggle, though the playful plea in your voice betrays just how much you relish these moments of playful torment.

He trails down your neck, leaving a tantalizing path of kisses and nibbles, his warmth spreading like wildfire. Lower, his touch becomes more urgent, igniting every nerve as he caresses your breasts, his lips a tender contrast against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he takes a pert nipple into his mouth, sucking gently yet with an intensity that leaves you gasping for more.

Your breath hitches at his touch, a symphony of pleasure escaping your lips as your body instinctively rises to meet his, every nerve alive with anticipation. Fingers dig into his sturdy back, craving the closeness, anchoring yourself to the intensity of the moment as he sends waves of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

His lips and tongue dance with fervor on your sensitive nipple, coaxing out gasps and moans that echo through the room, your body writhing in ecstatic response beneath his touch. Each flick of his tongue sends shivers of pleasure coursing through you, your senses ablaze with the overwhelming sensation of his intimate caress.

You feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each tantalizing brush of his dick against your slickened folds, igniting an insatiable hunger for him deep within your core. Your pussy throbs with an urgent need, aching to be filled by his cock as you yearn for the exquisite union of your bodies, desperate for the intoxicating bliss only he can provide.

With his deft touch, he lavishes equal care and devotion on your neglected nipple, ensuring that both peaks are stimulated. Each tender caress sends electrifying sensations coursing through your body, heightening your arousal to dizzying heights as you surrender to the intoxicating pleasure of his ministrations.

“Jimin—,” you moan out his name, your voice a symphony of pleasure. Every flick of his tongue, every gentle nip of his teeth, sends waves of ecstasy coursing through your veins. God, you love his mouth so fucking much.

He releases your nipple from his mouth, transferring his attention to its twin with a hunger that sets your senses ablaze. His lips and tongue work in tandem, igniting fireworks of pleasure that dance across your skin. Each delicate nibble sends a surge of arousal pulsing through you, your body responding eagerly to his every touch, every caress.

You writhe beneath him, your back arching instinctively as desire courses through every fiber of your being. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving faint imprints of your longing etched upon him. The hunger within you grows insatiable, a primal need driving you to crave more of him, more of his touch, his passion, his everything.

Understanding your unspoken desires, he trails kisses down your abdomen, his lips igniting a trail of fire along your skin. Arriving at your pussy, he pauses, taking in the sight of you with a reverence that sends shivers down your spine. Then, with a flick of his tongue, he indulges in the exquisite taste of your arousal, sending waves of pleasure cascading through your body.

You feel so sensitive down there, but fuck, his tongue is nice. Every nerve ending tingles with sensitivity and when he moves further into your pussy, his face fully buried between your thighs, he explores every inch of your cunt, teasing, sucking and slowly lapping up your juices.

He’s loud— god, the noises he’s making as he eats you out are sending shivers down your spine. The noises are obscene, and you can’t help but want more.

As he devotes himself to your pleasure, the world around you blurs into a haze of ecstasy. The intensity of his ministrations on your clitoris sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through every fiber of your being, rendering you powerless against the overwhelming waves of sensation. With each exquisite movement of his tongue, your senses heighten, your body thrumming with an electric current of desire. You grasp onto his hair, unable to contain the primal urge to draw him closer, to merge further into the abyss of passion he’s guiding you into.

“Fuck, Jimin. I’m gonna come already!” Your words spill out in a desperate plea, the raw intensity of your impending climax building like a tidal wave ready to crash over you. Every nerve ending ignites with a fiery ecstasy as your body quivers in anticipation. With a primal cry, your orgasm surges forth, a torrent of pleasure engulfing you in its embrace. Jimin’s skilled tongue works tirelessly to capture every essence of your release, his devotion evident in every fervent lick and tender kiss, amplifying the euphoria of the moment.

You gasp for precious air, your chest heaving with the aftershocks of ecstasy, as your senses reel in the aftermath. For a fleeting moment, your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind, lost amidst the haze of pleasure that envelopes your being.

As Jimin withdraws from your pulsating core, a single digit replaces his tongue, teasingly probing your slick folds. With effortless ease, it slides into your depths, igniting a symphony of sensations that echo through your body, eliciting a soft, involuntary moan from your parted lips.

Jimin’s soft chuckle fills the room, a symphony of delight as you clutch the sheets, your expression contorted in euphoric pleasure. Every furrow of your brow, every twist of your lips only adds to your beauty, a captivating portrait of ecstasy that leaves him utterly mesmerized.

He delves deeper, skillfully working his finger within you, each movement calculated to send ripples of pleasure through your core. As he adds another finger, your breath catches in your throat, a euphoric mixture of surprise and anticipation flooding your senses. With a soft gasp, you part your thighs more, offering yourself fully to his expert touch.

Still riding the waves of your first orgasm, every touch from Jimin feels like an extension of that euphoria, amplifying the sensations coursing through your body. 

As Jimin adds a third finger, a delicious stretch accompanies each movement, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. With each thrust, he delves deeper, igniting a symphony of moans and gasps that fill the room.

Jimin skillfully explores the depths of your pleasure, his fingers questing for that elusive sweet spot, and you’re transported to another realm of sensation. When he finally strikes gold, a kaleidoscope of stars bursts behind your closed eyelids. “Jimin!” you cry out, surrendering to the rhythmic dance of his fingers as you eagerly match their movements, every stroke pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

His voice, dark with desire, sends shivers down your spine, matching the intensity in his eyes. “Are you going to come again, baby?” he murmurs, his words dripping with anticipation, his gaze locked onto yours, igniting a primal fire within you.

You bite your lip, a silent affirmation as your head nods in agreement, unable to form words amidst the throes of pleasure that consume you.

With his other hand, he returns to your clit, expertly rubbing it in tandem with the rhythmic thrusts of his fingers. The dual stimulation sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, rendering you utterly powerless to its intoxicating effects. It’s as if every nerve ending is ablaze, your mind and body consumed by the overwhelming sensations, unraveling at the seams and short-circuiting under his masterful touch.

“Come on my fingers, babe,” he urges, his eyes ablaze with primal desire, and you surrender completely. As the tension inside you reaches its breaking point, you convulse beneath his touch, releasing another wave of liquid ecstasy onto his fingers, your body trembling with the intensity of your release.

You pant desperately, consumed by the heat of the moment, yet hungering for even greater heights of pleasure. Your body thrums with an insatiable desire, craving more.

“Fuck. You alway look so beautiful when you come,” his words ignite a fire within you, sending waves of validation and arousal crashing over your senses. As your body responds eagerly to his touch, you can’t help but yearn for more, your inner walls clenching around his fingers in a silent plea for something more substantial, and oh god you wish it was his cock instead.

He keeps thrusting his fingers in and out of you as he lets you ride out your orgasm. Just when it feels like you’re teetering on the edge of sensory overload, he withdraws his fingers, allowing you to catch your breath. With a tender touch, he descends to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, his own desire evident in the intensity of his embrace.

Your breathless plea hangs in the air, laden with desire and longing, as you lock eyes with him, your fervent need laid bare. “Jimin,” you implore, your voice a whisper laced with urgency, “please, I need you inside me. I want you to fuck me. I want your cock so bad.”

His chuckle dances in the charged air, a mix of amusement and arousal, as he watches your desperate expression. With a tender touch, he guides his dick to your pussy, aligning it with your entrance.

“My baby is so needy,” his laughter, a symphony of desire, echoes in the room as he teases you with the tip of his cock, each gentle touch igniting a fervent ache within you. Your moan, a melody of longing, fills the space, a plea for him to quench the fire he’s stoked.

“Don’t tease,” your plea, laden with urgency and desire, hangs in the air, a desperate cry for him to fill the void he’s created. With a soft chuckle dancing on his lips, he obliges, parting your trembling thighs further as he eases himself into your dripping pussy. The sensation, an intoxicating blend of pleasure and bliss, envelops you like a warm embrace from the heavens.

Gasping for breath, you surrender to the overwhelming ecstasy coursing through you. “Ah, Jimin, fuck! Your dick feels incredible,” you pant, fingers curling around your legs as you draw them closer, a desperate attempt to deepen the electrifying feeling between your bodies.

His nose scrunches with intense pleasure as he thrusts into the depths of your walls, his hands bracing on either side of your body. A sharp intake of breath escapes his lips as he buries himself completely within you. Your inner muscles clench around him, eliciting a soft hiss of satisfaction from his lips.

His chuckle is breathless, a telltale sign of his struggle to maintain composure amidst the overwhelming sensation. “Who’s teasing now?” He manages, his voice laced with desire, a playful retort to your earlier plea.

He delves deeper into you, every inch of him enveloped by your warmth, the closeness of your bodies igniting an intense intimacy that sends shivers down your spine. This position, so raw and intimate, resonates deeply within you, a sensation you cherish with every fiber of your being.

With each withdrawal and thrust, he sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, eliciting a passionate cry of his name to escape your lips. 

Your senses are ablaze with the overwhelming sensation of him, each powerful thrust sending ripples of ecstasy coursing through your body. With a fervent grip on the sheets, you surrender to the rhythm of his movements, the way that he fills and stretches you out, every thrust a symphony of pleasure that resonates deep within your core.

His hands firmly anchored on either side of your body, the intensity of each thrust ignites a kaleidoscope of sensations, sending you spiraling into the cosmos. With your legs entwined around his hips, you invite him to delve deeper, to explore every inch of your being as he plunges into you with an insatiable hunger. As he descends to capture your lips in a fiery kiss, you’re consumed by the raw passion coursing between you, lost in the euphoria of your love.

Fuck, you love this. The sensation of him filling you up, the fusion of love and desire coursing through every fiber of your being, it’s intoxicating. With each movement, each thrust, you’re consumed by a rapturous ecstasy, savoring every moment of him being deep inside you. As your lips meet his in a fervent kiss, you pour all your passion into it, matching his tenderness with an equal fervor, lost in the symphony of pleasure that only he can orchestrate.

You abandon the sheets and grasp onto his back, your nails grazing his skin with each powerful thrust, lost in a whirlwind of sensation. “Fuck. Jimin,” you gasp, the name slipping from your lips like a fervent prayer amidst pleasure surging between you.

He chuckles softly, his warm breath caressing your skin as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, teasingly nibbling at the sensitive flesh. Each gentle bite sends a shiver of delight coursing through your body, igniting every nerve ending with delicious anticipation.

Breathlessly, he murmurs against your neck, his voice laced with desire, “You’re so tight, so pretty.” He pulls out only to push himself back in again, seeking out that elusive sweet spot that sends waves of pleasure cascading through your body.

Every inch of him inside you feels like a perfect fit, igniting an exquisite symphony of sensations that leaves you gasping for air. As you feel him twitch within you, a surge of pleasure courses through your veins, prompting an instinctive clenching of your walls around him, drawing him deeper into your embrace.

The room is filled with the rhythmic symphony of your bodies colliding, the wet, intoxicating sound of skin meeting skin in a passionate dance. This must be one of your favorite sounds.

As he molds his body against yours, his weight pressing deliciously into you, almost laying flat against your stomach, you’re enveloped in his warmth and passion. His lips dance across your neck, alternating between tender kisses and playful nips, igniting a fire within you. With each stroke of your nails down his back, he responds with a symphony of pleasure, his breathy hisses a testament to the fire between you.

You feel him deep inside your pussy, and you sense the impending rush of another climax, building with an intensity that threatens to consume you entirely. This time, it surges through you with a force that defies containment, coursing through your veins like a wild river breaking free from its banks.

“Jimin, I’m gonna come again,” you pant as he drives into you with unrelenting force. With a wicked smirk, he rises, seizing your right leg and pulling it flush against his shoulder. As he presses down, stretching your body to its limits, each thrust plunges deeper, igniting sensations that border on divine.

His fingers find your throbbing clit once more, sending electric shocks of pleasure coursing through your body. You’re so sensitive, teetering on the brink, knowing that it only takes a whisper to send you cascading over the edge and come again.

His touch on your pulsating clit is electrifying, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through every fiber of your being. With each circular motion and gentle tug, you’re propelled into a whirlwind of ecstasy. Your senses overload as your vision blurs into a kaleidoscope of white, gasping for air as waves of euphoria crash over you. Your body convulses in rhythmic spasms, surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. It’s a symphony of sensation, leaving you utterly consumed by the intensity of pleasure, lost in a euphoric trance as your body dances to its own primal rhythm.

“Fucking hell, babe,” Jimin groans, his voice strained with the intensity of his impending release. You feel him still inside you, his body tensing with each pulsating wave of pleasure. Then, with an adorable scrunch of his nose, he reaches his climax. His grip on your leg tightens as he thrusts into you, his warm seed spilling within you. In that moment, you’re both lost in a haze of ecstasy, drenched in sweat, and gasping for air as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through your bodies.

He pulls out of you and collapses beside you on the bed, his chest heaving with each labored breath, the aftermath of passion evident in his flushed cheeks and glistening skin. With a soft chuckle, his hand finds its way to his stomach, just resting there.

“What’s so funny?” You turn your head toward him, your lips curving into a smile as you catch the playful glint in his eyes.

“You squirted, and we made such a mess,” he laughs, pulling himself closer to you again, his warmth enveloping you. “It was... hot,” he adds with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, his playful tone laced with affection and desire.

As you kiss him, you can’t ignore the sticky sensation between your legs, and it starts to feel slightly uncomfortable.

“I’ll clean you up babe, don’t worry,” he reassures, noticing the faint furrow on your brow, his voice tender and comforting.

He gets up from the bed, slips into his boxers and steps out of the bedroom. After a few moments, he returns, carrying a warm washcloth, a blush on his face and his eyes flickering with a mix of bashfulness and affection as he meets your gaze.

“Why’d it take you so long?” You groan, parting your legs to offer him easier access for cleaning.

He chuckles, his face flushing even more, “I met your sister, she said to keep it down next time.”

You sit up, a stern look etched on your face as you scoff, “Who is she to talk? She and your brother keep me up all night with their loud noises!”

He chuckles softly, drawing nearer to you on the bed, his fingertips dancing along the curves of your thighs, sending shivers down your spine.

“Then we should just be louder, no?” He suggests playfully, a mischievous glint in his eyes, though his cheeks remain flushed. His fingers hover tantalizingly close to your folds, teasing but not touching. Instead, he delicately applies the warm washcloth to your slick pussy, the comforting heat soothing against your sensitive skin. With careful motions, he begins to cleanse away the remnants of your shared passion, his touch gentle yet purposeful.

“Jimin, it’s not a competition. But we should totally do that next time,”  you chuckle, enjoying the tender care he showers upon you in the aftermath. The gentle touch of the washcloth against your skin is soothing, and you bask in the intimacy of the moment. Despite the tasks waiting for your attention, Jimin’s unhurried ministrations make you want to linger a little longer in this tranquility.

As he completes his task, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns on your thighs, you rise from the bed, feeling a sense of contentment envelop you. Scanning the room for your belongings, you locate a pair of panties and slip them on, then reach for Jimin’s abandoned button-down shirt, relishing in the comforting warmth it offers as you slide it over your shoulders.

When you pivot to face him, adorned solely in the delicate lace of your panties and his oversized shirt, a low, guttural groan escapes Jimin’s lips, his gaze trailing over your silhouette. With a languid movement, he reclines on the bed, his expression a mix of desire and admiration.

In a playful tone, you announce, “I’ll just paint a bit and then we can head down and get breakfast. You lay back and enjoy the view.” With a sly grin, you tug the curtains open just enough, anticipating how the morning sunlight will caress your skin as you immerse yourself in your artistic pursuit.

Allowing the brush to dance freely on the canvas, you let your mind flow with the strokes, creating another abstract masterpiece adorned with vibrant red hues. Glancing over your shoulder, you catch sight of Jimin reclining, wholly entranced by your artistic process, his gaze brimming with an unmistakable blend of affection and admiration.

Pausing mid-brushstroke, you shoot Jimin a playful smirk, your eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“Like what you see?” You tease, the hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Jimin’s groan reverberates in the room, his voice laced with desire. “Yes. You look so fucking hot in my shirt and with the bottom of your ass peeking out, and your tits out like that… are you sure we have to work today?”

You can’t help but burst into laughter, the sound bubbling with warmth and affection. Oh, how tempting it is to lose yourself in the allure of Jimin. Yet, duty calls, and as much as you crave his touch, completing this painting beckons with its own urgency and the rest of your work later.

With a playful sway of your hips, you tease Jimin further, the brush in your hand an extension of your artistic vision. Each stroke brings you closer to completion, the canvas soon to be adorned with your creativity and passion.

“It’s not fair,” he chuckles, rolling out of bed to retrieve his pants, “I’d like my shirt back, though I must admit, it looks ten times better on you.” His playful banter carries a hint of sincerity, his eyes lingering on your form as if the shirt were an afterthought compared to the allure it lends you.

You chuckle mischievously, relishing in the moment as you turn around and let the garment cascade off your body in a slow, tantalizing motion. Jimin’s eyes widen in awe, captivated by your confident display. With a sly grin, you saunter over to your dresser, effortlessly commanding attention. Retrieving a bra and shirt, you dress yourself with effortless grace, leaving Jimin momentarily spellbound. As he picks up his shirt from the floor and dons it, the air crackles with the lingering electricity of your playful teasing.

“Let’s get breakfast and then head to work,” you suggest, crossing the room to Jimin, where you plant a tender kiss on his plush lips, lingering for just a moment to savor the touch of him.

Side by side, you descend the stairs, the anticipation of breakfast fueling your steps. Rushing through the meal, you devour your food with a sense of urgency, knowing that the day's responsibilities are already waiting impatiently for your attention.

With the morning sun casting a golden glow, you embark on your daily routine, starting with the tender care of the garden. Jimin joins you, his hands deftly plucking out weeds, his laughter mingling with the chirping of birds. Together, you gather the bounty of carrots, spinach, cabbage, and peas, the vibrant colors a testament to nature’s generosity. As the day progresses, you transition to the stables, the scent of hay and earth enveloping you. With practiced hands, you feed the cattle and horses, their eager whinnies and low rumbles a symphony of farm life. Loading up the pickup truck, you set off to tend to the animals in the paddocks, the rhythmic rumble of the engine accompanying your journey across the sprawling landscape.

“How does this thing work again?” You inquire, gripping the drill with determination. Both hands are occupied, grappling with the weight of the tool and the precision needed to secure the bolts just right. You’re on a mission to ensure every detail aligns perfectly, a blend of determination and mechanical finesse guiding your every move.

Jimin’s chuckle dances in the air beside you, his hand enveloping yours on the drill. “Let me show you,” he says, guiding your fingers to the trigger, igniting the powerful hum of the machine. “And if you don’t screw it in at a level, you can push this to make it reverse,” he continues, demonstrating the reverse function. His touch, warm and reassuring, sends a gentle thrill down your spine, mingling with the anticipation of mastering the task at hand.

He shifts his focus back to holding the wooden plank steady for you, ensuring a smooth process. With determined precision, you position the bolt and wield the drill, its power humming to life as you secure the bolt in place. Success! The satisfying click of the bolt settling in sends a surge of accomplishment through you both.

Grinning, you glance at him, exhilarated by the teamwork, “This is actually fun.” With newfound enthusiasm, you reach for another screw, eager to continue the satisfying rhythm of progress.

Jimin’s eyes light up with genuine delight, his smile spreading warmth, “My babe with power tools. Absolutely love it.” 

Together, you and Jimin finally tackle the long-awaited project of assembling the shed you'd spent months gathering wood for. Despite his initial plans to complete it sooner, life seemed to intervene, leaving the project on hold. But now, as you both hammer and drill, laughter fills the air, mingling with the satisfaction of progress. Working side by side, you relish the closeness and love, finding joy in shared achievements and the simple pleasure of each other’s company.

For months now, life has been a whirlwind of joy and contentment, leaving you with a constant flutter of butterflies in your stomach and a perpetual grin adorning your face. Even your sister, with her keen eye, has teased you about looking like a lovesick fool. But can you blame her? You’ve finally found everything you’ve ever yearned for: the warmth of family, a place to call home, and the embrace of the one you love more than words can express.

Startled by Yoongi’s sudden presence behind you, his voice cutting through your thoughts like a gentle breeze, you turn to find him standing there, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Can you lend me a hand down in the pen?” he asks, his tone carrying a hint of urgency that you can’t ignore.

When you fully face Yoongi, you notice the subtle glow on his face, a telltale sign that things with Hoseok must be going swimmingly. It warms your heart to see him so content, and in turn, fills you with joy. “Sure thing, just give me a moment,” you reply with a smile, ready to assist him with whatever task he needs help with in the pen.

Jimin’s affirmative nod accompanies a gentle smile, his eyes reflecting understanding and support. “I can handle the rest, love. Go lend Yoon a hand,” he says, his tone brimming with reassurance and affection.

You pass the drill to Jimin with a quick exchange, his fingers brushing yours in a fleeting touch that sends a jolt of warmth through you. Following Yoongi’s urgent call, you head down to the pen, where the sight of a spirited horse galloping about greets you, its untamed energy palpable in the air.

“What do you need help with?” You inquire, arching an eyebrow in curiosity, ready to assist Yoongi with whatever challenge he's facing in the pen.

Yoongi’s voice carries a hint of desperation as he explains the mare's skittish behavior. You notice the weariness etched on his face, his energy drained from his futile attempts to coax the horse. “Could you give it a shot? See if she responds to you?” he pleads, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion, revealing just how long he's been grappling with the elusive mare.

“Yeah I’ll give it a shot,” with a confident smile, you accept the challenge. Carefully climbing over the fence, you land softly on the sand, your boots sinking slightly into the ground. As you approach the mare, her wild movements seem to echo the chaos in her mind. Standing in the center of the pen, you observe her graceful gallop, realizing she's in a world all her own. Patience becomes your ally as you wait, understanding that time is your greatest asset in this endeavor.

Lost in the mesmerizing rhythm of the mare’s movements, time becomes elusive, and a sense of dizziness begins to swirl within you. As you watch her graceful strides, a heavy sigh escapes your lips, a silent acknowledgment of the passage of moments slipping away unnoticed.

As the mare continues her captivating dance, your attention wanders to Yoongi, realizing you’ve been standing idle for what feels like an eternity. “How are the other horses doing?” You inquire, your voice carrying a hint of fatigue from the prolonged stillness.

A soft chuckle escapes Yoongi’s lips before he responds, “They’re doing fine. We actually got another one picked up yesterday.”

You flash a warm smile, your voice laced with genuine regret. “That’s great news. Sorry I couldn’t be there.” 

Your heart swells with pride at the thriving success of your shared venture. “But I’m thrilled about how smoothly things are going. We’ve moved so many wild horses into new roles as stock horses.”

A sudden force jolts against your back, sending you stumbling forward, your heart racing as you struggle to regain your balance.

A radiant smile illuminates Yoongi’s face, brimming with pride and joy. “You did it!” he exclaims, his voice filled with genuine excitement and admiration.

As you pivot, your eyes meet the gentle gaze of the wild mare, standing before you with humility in her stance, her head lowered in submission. A soft whine escapes her lips, a sign of acknowledgment. Tenderly, you extend your hand, brushing it gently against her head. “Good girl,” you murmur, feeling a surge of connection and triumph in the air.

“You’re amazing. Thank you so much. I’ve been struggling with her for hours, making no progress,” he expresses, weariness evident in his tone as he perches atop the fence. “I’ll take her to the stables. She’s been out for too long; she deserves some rest. And you, you should rest too. Thank you once again.” With a grateful smile, he leaps down into the pen, effortlessly guiding the mare back to the stables without the aid of halter or rope.

“No problem,” you reply, stepping out of the pen and heading towards the main house. The day is winding down, and you’re hopeful that Jimin has prepared dinner that you can enjoy together.

As you open the door, the tantalizing aroma of home-cooked goodness envelops you, instantly awakening your senses. The savory scent beckons you forward, drawing you into the warm embrace of familiarity and comfort. With eager anticipation, you make your way into the living room, where Jimin lounges on the couch, adding to the cozy atmosphere with his relaxed presence.

“Did you finish work?” He inquires, tearing his gaze away from the mindless chatter on the TV, his eyes lighting up as they meet yours.

“Yeah, and I’m starving. Did you whip something up?” you inquire eagerly, closing the distance between you and him with each step.

“Yeah, it’s in the oven,” he responds, his fingers intertwining with yours as soon as you’re within his reach, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“Didn’t you already eat?” you ask, a hint of disbelief creeping into your voice, your eyebrows arching slightly as you await his response.

“No, I was waiting for you,” he says, his smile warm and genuine, eyes sparkling with affection as he gazes at you.

“Oh, baby, you didn’t have to, but we can eat together now,” you say, your voice carrying a mixture of sadness and affection, “come.”

You coax him up from the couch, intertwining your fingers as you head into the kitchen to uncover the delicious meal he’s prepared. The flavors dance on your taste buds, a testament to his culinary skill. Amidst bites and laughter, you savor the intimacy, sneaking playful touches and caresses, entwining your legs beneath the table, deepening the love between you.

“Long day?” he asks, his voice soft with concern as his foot finds yours under the table, the gentle pressure of his touch sending a tingling sensation up your leg, a subtle reassurance in his gesture.

“Yeah. I’m so sore and tired. You?” you ask, sinking deeper into your seat, the weariness evident in your voice as you release a heavy sigh, your body yearning for the comfort of relaxation.

“Me too,” he says, his voice carrying a hint of exhaustion as he stretches his body, a silent testament to the day’s wear and tear. “What do you say… if you clean up in the kitchen, I’ll make a bath for us in the tub?” His offer, infused with a touch of intimacy and care, promises a soothing respite from the day’s toils. 

Your eyes sparkle with anticipation at the mention of the tub. The thought of sinking into its welcoming depths has been a quiet longing in your mind for so long, and now, the prospect of finally indulging in its comforting embrace fills you with eager anticipation. The promise of soaking away the day's stresses in warm, soothing water feels like a luxurious treat, beckoning you towards a moment of serene relaxation.

“Deal,” you respond with a hint of eagerness, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. His laughter fills the room, accompanied by the soft warmth of his affectionate gaze, reminding you once again of the deep bond you share.

With a swift nod, you rise from the table, eager to fulfill your end of the bargain. The prospect of sinking into a warm bath lures you into action, and you quickly set to work clearing the table and storing the leftovers. Meanwhile, you delegate the task of drawing the bath to Jimin, trusting in his ability to create the perfect oasis of relaxation.

“Hey babe! Do you want some wine?” Your voice carries from the kitchen, punctuated by the clinking of dishes nearing completion.

“Yeah, sure!” Jimin’s response echoes from the bathroom, filled with anticipation for the cozy evening ahead.

As you open the cabinet, your eyes catch the glint of a bottle of rich red wine tucked away. With a soft pop, the cork relinquishes its hold, releasing the tantalizing aroma of aged grapes. Carefully, you select two delicate glasses, pouring a generous amount into each. The anticipation of sinking into the warm embrace of the bath, wine in hand, fills you with an unexpected giddiness, turning a simple soak into a moment of luxurious indulgence.

You enter the bathroom, and the soft glow of candlelight dances across the walls, casting an enchanting aura over the otherwise dark room. Your breath catches as you take in the sight before you: the bath, filled to just over halfway, exudes inviting warmth, while Jimin stands before you, his form illuminated by the flickering flames, his nakedness a captivating sight. The glasses of wine tremble slightly in your grasp as you carefully set them down beside the tub, feeling a surge of anticipation mingled with a hint of nervous excitement.

Jimin’s allure is undeniable, his presence commanding attention as you step closer to him. His complexion, a velvety blend of creamy hues, emanates warmth beneath the soft glow of candlelight, accentuating the rugged beauty of his form. Your fingers trace the contours of his sturdy pectorals, reveling in the strength they exude. “You look like pure sin,” you murmur, unable to resist the temptation that radiates from every inch of his being.

His laughter fills the room, a melodic accompaniment to the gentle caress of your hands on his chest. As you lean in to kiss him, the warmth of his lips against yours ignites a fire within. “I better get naked too,” you jest, your voice laced with anticipation and a hint of playful mischief.

With eager hands and shared anticipation, you shed your clothes in a flurry of desire. As Jimin assists in revealing your body, he helps pull your shirt off your body. He unclasps your bra and lets it fall to the floor, which makes his breath catch at the sight of your breasts, a primal reaction that ignites a hunger within him. With each garment that falls away, the space between you crackles with an electric tension, building toward the moment when you stand before him, naked and unapologetically yourself, basking in the raw intensity of the moment.

Like magnets drawn together, your bodies intertwine in a passionate embrace, igniting a fiery exchange of kisses that speak volumes in the language of desire. As your lips meet in a fervent dance, you sense the primal response coursing through him, evidenced by the subtle quiver of his dick beneath your touch. With a tender stroke of your hand, you coax forth a soft, involuntary moan.

“Let’s get in,” he urges, his hand enveloping yours as he guides you toward the inviting embrace of the tub. With graceful ease, he eases himself into the warm, welcoming waters, settling against the back while you follow suit, finding your place nestled in the curve of his lap. As you lower yourself into the tranquil depths, the subtle pressure of his dick against your back sends a playful shiver down your spine, eliciting a soft chuckle to escape your lips. The gentle caress of the soothing water envelops your skin, melting away the tensions of the day, cocooning you both in a blissful sanctuary of relaxation.

“Do you like it?” He inquires softly, his fingers expertly tracing soothing circles over your shoulders, coaxing out the tension that had been knotted within your muscles. With each knead and stroke, a contented sigh escapes your lips, a testament to the sheer bliss of his touch.

“I love it,” you murmur, surrendering completely to the sensations coursing through your body as his skilled hands work their magic. With a satisfied smile, you reach for your glass of wine, the cool liquid adding another layer of indulgence to the moment. Placing the glass back on the table, you sink deeper into the warmth of the bath, letting Jimin’s fingers weave their spell over your back, melting away every ounce of stress.

It’s an exquisite sensation, one that sends shivers down your spine as his hands glide from your shoulders to the front, delicately caressing your breasts. The moment his fingers encircle your nipples, your eyes flutter open, a soft gasp escaping your lips, betraying the sheer pleasure coursing through you. His touch ignites an urgent longing within you, echoed by the telltale twitch of his dick pressed against your back.

His touch becomes more fervent, his fingers skillfully rolling your nipples between them, sending waves of sensation coursing through your body. As his lips find the sensitive skin of your shoulder, his bite is both tender and teasing, perfectly complementing the tugs and pinches of his fingers.

Within moments, a surge of arousal floods your senses, igniting a fiery desire deep within your core. Each breath comes quicker, matching the rapid pace of your escalating lust.

As his skilled fingers work your nipples, you arch your back, pressing into his touch, the sensation sparking through your body like wildfire. It’s almost overwhelming how good it feels, sending waves of pleasure coursing through every inch of your being.

You lean back into his chest, letting your head rest beside his, and he teases your nipples, sending bolts of pleasure coursing through your body. “Jimin, fuck—” you moan, the intensity of sensation almost too much to bear.

He hums softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin, sending shivers of lust down your spine. As he nibbles on your earlobe, a rush of desire floods through you, igniting every nerve ending with longing.

“What do you need baby?” His voice, a velvety whisper in your ear, sends a surge of heat coursing through your veins. As you roll your hips into his, seeking closer contact, the air between you crackles with electricity, fueling the flames of desire.

 “I need you Jimin,” you gasp, surrendering to the intoxicating pull of desire that consumes every fiber of your being.

“You have to be more specific babe,” he breathes in your ear, while one of his hands travels down, “Do you want me to touch you here?” He asks, his fingers hovering just above your clit.

A soft whimper escapes your lips as you bite down on your lip, the anticipation building as you part your legs further. “Yes, please,” you murmur, your voice laced with need and desire, your body trembling with anticipation for his touch.

As his fingers trace delicate patterns over your clit, you gasp at the gentle touch, every stroke sending shivers of pleasure through your body. With each soft moan that escapes your lips, his touch becomes more insistent, his fingers pressing down with increasing urgency, driving you to the brink of ecstasy real fast.

“Jimin!” You pant, your voice a breathless plea as the sensation intensifies, sending a surge of heat coursing through your veins. Your thighs quiver with anticipation, a tidal wave of pleasure building deep within your core, threatening to overwhelm you in its euphoric embrace.

“Are you gonna come so fast?” His taunt sends a delicious shiver down your spine, igniting a firestorm of desire within you. Despite the teasing, you find yourself powerless against the intoxicating allure of his touch. You know it’s pathetic how fast your body unravels for him, but you can’t help it. 

“Your hands are so good, I can’t help it,” you gasp against the sensitive skin of his throat, fingers gripping the edge of the tub for leverage. Every touch from him feels like an electric current, igniting sensations that leave you breathless. As the tension inside you reaches its breaking point, you surrender completely to the blissful release washing over you.

As the waves of ecstasy surge through you, you surrender to the primal rhythm of your body, yielding to the intoxicating sensations ignited by Jimin’s touch. With every nerve on fire and every muscle tensed, you gasp for precious air, your head finding solace in the comforting curve of Jimin’s neck. “Jimin, I…” you whisper breathlessly, words catching in the throes of pleasure.

He nestles his head closer to yours, his warm breath brushing against your skin. “What is it, babe?” he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing melody.

Your body quivers under his skillful touch, a symphony of sensations coursing through you as he continues to tease your nipples and caress your clit.

“I want to fuck you and for you to fill me up,” you murmur, your voice laden with desire, as you press yourself against him once more.

“Fuck, yeah,” he gasps, urgency lacing his voice as he withdraws his hands from your sensitive nipples and clit, firmly gripping your hips with a hunger that mirrors your own.

You lift yourself up, the anticipation electrifying every nerve as you easily find his dick and slide down on it. “Oh, fuck!” The words escape your lips in a gasp of pleasure as he effortlessly fills you, stretching you to the brink from the very first inch.

With his firm grip, he guides your movements, each thrust a symphony of desire and need as you ride him, fucking yourself on his cock.

You feel his warm breath against your skin as he whispers, “So pretty, baby,” before tenderly pressing his lips to the delicate curve where your neck meets your shoulder.

You tighten your grip on the tub’s edge, seeking leverage, as you rise and descend in slow, tantalizing motions. With each movement, water splashes out.. “Looks like you overfilled it,” you pant, a breathless admission, met with a soft chuckle from him.

As he peppers you with kisses, you strive to maintain your rhythm, riding him with all your passion. Yet, despite your efforts, fatigue begins to set in, and the discomfort in your knees becomes increasingly noticeable. This position, once thrilling, now feels taxing and hurting.

“Babe, my knees are hurting,” you plead, reluctantly pulling yourself off him altogether.

“Come, turn around then. I’m sorry,” he suggests, his tone apologetic as he shifts deeper into the tub, creating space in the middle. You turn around and comply, straddling his lap. As he effortlessly enters you once more, a soft moan escapes your lips, reverberating through the intimate space as he resumes his rhythmic thrusts.

“This is so much better,” you murmur, intertwining your legs and arms around his body. “And I love being able to see your face.”

With a chuckle, he leans in to tenderly kiss your lips, igniting a passionate rhythm as he thrusts up into you. Meeting his movements eagerly, you ride his cock with abandon, the water swirling around you in a sensual dance as the wine long forgotten.

You sense him pulsing within you, sending tremors of pleasure through your core, as your inner muscles start to contract in anticipation of another climax.

“Just let go baby,” he murmurs huskily into your ear, his every movement igniting a wildfire of ecstasy within you. You echo a breathless rendition of his name as your essence cascades around him. Clinging to him desperately, you surrender to the torrent of sensations as he intensifies his thrusts, sending waves of passion crashing through the water.

“Shit, Jimin, are you gonna come too?” You gasp, feeling his urgency mounting with each thrust of his dick, until he finally succumbs with a fervent moan, filling you with his essence and with a groan of your name.

You press your lips to his, savoring the sweet taste of him as you both stay still in the water, letting your orgasms wash over you. Feeling his warmth enveloping you, you start to gently rock your hips, coaxing another shiver from him, lost in the lingering sensations of bliss.

“Babe, it’s too much,” his breath comes in ragged gasps, his hands gently restraining your fervent motions. Looking into his eyes, you’re met with a torrent of desire, the heat of his gaze mirroring the flush that paints his cheeks. 

“Let me wash you up and take care of you,” his voice, a soft whisper against your ear, promises comfort as he retrieves the soap, its fragrance mingling with the warmth of the water. With practiced hands, he massages the lather onto your back, each stroke a tender caress that elicits a contented moan from your lips.

You let him massage you with the soap all over your body, all while he stays deep inside your pussy. Occasionally you feel the twitch of his dick and you realize he hasn’t gone fully soft yet, and now you can just feel him getting harder again.

He washes the soap off your body and you feel so nice, so cleaned and cared for.

“I want to return the favor,” you say, a soft smile gracing your lips as fatigue begins to settle in. Despite the weariness weighing on your body, the desire to care for your boyfriend burns brightly within you, compelling you to offer this small gesture of love.

You slide off his lap and reach for the soap, lathering it in your palms before trailing your hands over his body, mirroring the care he bestowed upon you. With each stroke, he emits soft moans of pleasure, surrendering to the sensation of your touch. His physique is a masterpiece of strength and grace, every muscle defined under your fingertips. As you work your way across his body, his biceps bulge with strength, his abdominals ripple beneath your touch, and he melts into your hands like pliable clay, yielding to your every caress.

“Babe, this is so nice,” his voice, a husky whisper, caresses your ears as he savors the sensation, lost in the bliss of your ministrations. With a tender smile, you rinse away the soap, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. Drawn to him like a magnet, you lean in, capturing his lips in a kiss filled with affection and desire.

“This was such a good idea, Jimin. I loved it and I love you,” with a contented sigh, you express your gratitude, nestling into his embrace. The soft glow of candlelight flickers around you, casting playful shadows as you lean in for another lingering kiss, sealing your words with an affectionate embrace.

“Yeah. I love you too.” His voice, filled with warmth and sincerity, reverberates through the room as he gazes into your eyes, where he finds solace and home. In that moment, he realizes the depth of his feelings, the unspoken promises whispered between your shared glances. Perhaps it’s time to let the symbol of his devotion, the ring he’s carried for months, find its rightful place on your finger.

You linger in the embrace of the warm water, savoring the intimacy shared in those precious moments, until the realization of time nudges you both back to reality. Reluctantly, you rise from the soothing depths, cocooned in the lingering affection of the bath. With gentle care, you tenderly dry each other off, the soft caress of the towels becoming a silent exchange of love and tenderness.

The comfort of spending the night at Jimin’s embraces you like a warm blanket, lingering even as the morning unfolds into a delightful breakfast shared together. With hearts light and minds focused, you dive into the tasks of the day, knowing that the warmth of your shared moments will linger like a sweet whisper in the air.

The gentle breeze caresses your skin, carrying the scent of blooming flowers, while the sun bathes everything in a golden glow, infusing you with an invigorating energy that seems boundless. In this moment, with the world painted in hues of warmth and possibility, you feel an unstoppable surge of euphoria coursing through you, propelling you forward on the wings of boundless optimism.

You’re idly gazing out the window when the distant rumble of an approaching car catches your attention. As it draws nearer, a sense of unease prickles at the edges of your consciousness. Then, recognition dawns like a lightning bolt striking through the air. It's Deiji’s car— Jimin’s ex. The sight sends a ripple of uncertainty coursing through you, stirring up a flurry of thoughts and emotions.

As you watch the car pull up, curiosity interlaces with a thread of apprehension. You feel compelled to step out into the yard, a sense of obligation mingling with a twinge of discomfort. Greeting her with forced politeness, you battle the tide of memories that surge forth with her presence. It’s not that you hold anything against her personally, but her arrival serves as a stark reminder of a painful chapter— a time when Jimin's silence cut deeper than words.

You step into the sunlight, its warmth caresses your skin, momentarily blinding you as you squint against its brilliance. Deiji emerges from her car, her form obscured by the glare, until you draw nearer and discern the telltale curve of her belly. 

Pregnant. 

The realization washes over you, mingling with a spectrum of emotions, from surprise to a begrudging twinge of hurt. Good for her, you think, though beneath the surface, a ripple of complex feelings threatens to surface.

“Hey,” Deiji greets you with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes as you draw nearer. “Is Jimin around? I really need to talk to him.”

You nod in acknowledgment. “He’s inside,” you reply, gesturing towards the house.

“Cool,” she replies, her voice tinged with a hint of discomfort, her hand instinctively cradling her swollen belly. With a slight waddle, she makes her way towards the house. You follow closely, holding the door open to usher her inside.

As you step into the house, you find Jimin, who’s visibly taken aback by Deiji’s unexpected presence beside you.

“What are you doing here?” Jimin’s voice is tense, his gaze flicking towards the elephant in the room: her swollen belly.

As she gently caresses her belly, her words hang heavy in the air. “I came to tell you something,” she begins, her voice trembling slightly. “This baby... it’s yours.”

Your jaw practically hits the floor, and you can feel your heart somersaulting in your chest, threatening to burst out like a cartoon character. Glancing at Jimin, you see his shock mirrored in his wide-eyed expression, a reflection of your own disbelief.

“But we used a condom?” He blurts out, the disbelief and irritation palpable in his voice. It's as if he's trying to grasp at any rational explanation for the bombshell Deiji just dropped, his tone a mix of incredulity and denial.

“You know, sometimes accidents happen…” She utters those words with an infuriating calmness, her hand caressing her belly once more, a gesture that grates on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Every fiber of your being rebels against the notion that she’s carrying Jimin’s child. It feels surreal, like a nightmare you can’t wake up from, as if the ground beneath your feet is shifting and you’re teetering on the edge of a dizzying precipice. In the midst of your own tumultuous emotions, you can’t help but wonder what Jimin is feeling, how he’s processing this bombshell that threatens to upend your world.

Jimin stands before you, an image of stunned disbelief etched into every line of his face.

“And you came here for what, money?” Jimin’s voice trembles slightly, his words laced with a mix of anger and confusion.

A peculiar mix of emotions swirls within you, a tumultuous blend of anger and sadness that leaves you feeling unsettled.

“No. I just wanted to let you know. I know how important family is to you,” she starts, her voice tinged with sincerity as she settles onto a nearby stool.

You’re still standing there, dumbstruck, your emotions swirling like a turbulent storm. Deiji’s words echo in your mind. Jimin values family. Could it be that he wants to be a part of this child’s life?

“Can we get a paternity test, I’d like to be sure, if you don’t mind?” His voice quivers with uncertainty, his gaze flickering between Deiji and you. Despite the tremor in his voice, there’s a glimmer in his eyes, a hint of hope. You can sense it, that if this child is indeed his, he’s ready to embrace it. You just know.

Despite having rarely broached the topic of children and family, you’ve been unequivocal about your stance: kids aren’t part of your immediate plans, perhaps not even in the distant future. Yet, as you observe Jimin’s gaze, tinged with uncertainty, it's evident he’s treading carefully, mindful of your feelings.

“Yes, we can do a paternity test,” she responds, her hand instinctively drifting to her swollen belly once more, a gesture that feels almost possessive.

Jimin exhales deeply, his frustration palpable. “If this child is indeed mine,” he begins, his voice tinged with both uncertainty and a glimmer of resolve, “I want to be involved. I want to be there for them.”

His words hit you like shards of glass, each one piercing deeper than the last. You anticipated his decision, yet the reality of it cuts through you, leaving a raw ache in your chest.

“Great,” she replies with a smirk playing on her lips, as if she’s just achieved her ultimate goal with ease, leaving you feeling like a pawn in her twisted game.

Jimin scratches his head, a nervous habit you’ve noticed before, and turns to you, his expression torn between concern and uncertainty. You find it hard to meet his gaze, your own emotions swirling in a tumultuous storm. This situation feels overwhelming, like a weight you’re not prepared to bear. You're not ready to take on the role of someone's stepmother, to navigate the complexities of raising a child. It's all too much, too soon, and you're not sure how to process it all.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” she says, her tone dripping with faux innocence. As she looks between you, her eyes betray a subtle flicker of mischief. Even through the haze of your sadness, you can’t help but notice it, prompting a flicker of suspicion. What could she possibly be up to?

You’re enveloped in a storm of emotions, each one crashing against you with relentless force. This isn’t how it’s supposed to unfold, not in the grand narrative of your life. It feels like the carefully crafted script has been torn apart, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainty and dismay.

As Deiji departs, she leaves behind a lingering tension, promising to return with the verdict of the paternity test. In her wake, she leaves you and Jimin standing amidst the shattered remnants of what was once your certainty, the world around you now feeling as if it’s tilted on an unfamiliar axis.

In the abrupt aftermath of Deiji’s revelation, it’s as if an unbridgeable chasm has opened up between you and Jimin, leaving you stranded in a silence fraught with uncertainty. Each passing moment stretches like an eternity, filled with the weight of unspoken words and uncharted emotions, leaving you grappling for the right thing to say.

“I’m sorry,” as the tension hangs heavy in the air, Jimin’s voice breaks through the silence like a fragile whisper, laden with the weight of regret and uncertainty. His hand finds yours, offering a gentle reassurance amidst the chaos of conflicting emotions swirling around you both.

A cold numbness settles over you like a heavy shroud, dulling your senses to the world around you, even to the touch of Jimin’s hand clasping yours. Words elude you as you meet his gaze, lost in the hollow void of your own emotions, feeling hollow and devoid of purpose.

“It’s… okay. I know how important family is to you,” you murmur, your voice barely a whisper, drained of its usual warmth and vitality. Each word feels heavy on your tongue, laden with the weight of resignation and sorrow. You force a semblance of understanding into your tone, masking the turmoil brewing within. Yet, beneath the surface, you’re crumbling, feeling like a mere echo of yourself, hollowed out and devoid of the vibrant spirit you once possessed.

“Do you think we can do this?” he implores, his gaze probing yours with a desperate intensity, as if seeking a lifeline in the depths of your soul. Yet, you can’t meet his eyes fully, for fear that he’ll uncover the barren expanse where hope once flourished. In the silence that follows, the weight of uncertainty hangs heavy between you, casting a shadow over any flicker of optimism that might have remained.

“I...,” you start, your voice quivering with emotion as tears threaten to spill from your eyes and your throat constricts with the weight of unspoken fears. 

“I don’t know,” you finally admit, the words hanging in the air like a heavy fog, obscuring any clarity or certainty that might have once existed.

After about a week, Deiji returned with the results of the paternity test, confirming that the child was indeed Jimin’s. It felt as though the ground had shifted beneath your feet once more, leaving you reeling in the aftershocks of this irrevocable revelation.

Since then, you’ve thrown yourself into anything and everything to keep busy, desperate to avoid encountering Deiji altogether. But it seems like she’s practically moved into Jimin's place, and every time you catch a glimpse of them together, it's like a knife twisting in your gut. They’re playing house, oblivious to the turmoil they’ve caused you, and it's tearing you apart inside.

Jimin has been making an effort to keep you in the loop, updating you on the baby’s progress. He tells you that Deiji is now seven months pregnant, and it’s a girl. But with each piece of news, it’s like a dagger to your heart. Part of you doesn’t want to hear it anymore because it’s a constant reminder of the life you never signed up for, the pain you never asked to endure.

It’s not entirely Jimin’s fault; accidents can happen even with precautions. He’s made sincere efforts to include you, but despite his attempts, you can’t shake off the growing chasm between you. It’s like watching two continents slowly drift apart, unable to bridge the gap that keeps widening with each passing day.

Every time Deiji crosses your path, she exudes an aura of radiance, almost as if she's dipped in the fabled glow of pregnancy. You can’t help but notice the adoring glances she casts at Jimin, the lingering touches that seem to extend beyond mere familiarity. It's a bitter pill to swallow, witnessing these subtle gestures, and you wonder if Jimin perceives them as you do. Yet, you’ve kept your silence, letting the unspoken tensions simmer beneath the surface.

Confronting Jimin feels like stepping into a storm, knowing the tempest of emotions brewing within you. It's a conversation you know you should have, to lay bare the tumultuous whirlwind of feelings raging inside. Yet, the words stick in your throat, heavy with uncertainty and fear. How do you articulate the overwhelming doubt, the gnawing apprehension that this path isn't meant for you? 

The thought of navigating this intricate web of emotions with Jimin and Deiji looming in the background feels suffocating, like grappling with shadows that threaten to swallow you whole.

The prospect of parenthood is daunting enough on its own, a weighty responsibility you don’t feel prepared to shoulder. Yet, the thought of co-parenting with another woman adds a layer of complexity you can scarcely fathom. While you acknowledge that blended families are a reality for many, you struggle to envision it as your own. The mere idea of navigating this uncharted territory feels like venturing into a labyrinth with no clear path forward, leaving you grappling with uncertainty and a profound sense of unease.

The green-eyed monster rears its head within you, its claws sinking deep into your heart every time you witness Deiji’s presence beside your boyfriend. Watching her cozy up to him feels like an intrusion, a relentless assault on the sanctuary of your relationship. With each stolen glance and tender touch, it's as if she’s encroaching on sacred ground, threatening to snatch him away from the haven of your love.

You’ve been drifting apart from Jimin, caught in a whirlwind of avoidance and busy distractions. Despite his efforts to reach out and bridge the growing chasm between you, you’ve been hesitant, grappling with conflicting emotions. However, when he extends the invitation, promising to cook for you, you find yourself unable to resist the pull any longer. It’s a chance to reconnect, to confront the mounting tension between you, even if it means braving the storm of uncertainty that awaits.

As you pull into the familiar driveway of his ranch, the weight in your chest seems to grow heavier with each passing second. Dread coils around your heart like a suffocating vine, yet you know deep down that this conversation, however daunting, is inevitable. You sit in the car for a moment, grappling with the turmoil within, torn between the comfort of avoidance and the necessity of facing the truth head-on. With a resigned sigh, you steel yourself for what lies ahead and step out into the uncertain terrain of your emotions.

As you swing the door open, a tantalizing aroma envelops you, weaving its way through the air and tickling your senses. Stepping into the kitchen, your eyes meet Jimin’s, and though he greets you with open arms and a warm embrace, the sweetness of his gesture fails to penetrate the thick fog of your unease. His lips press against yours in a tender kiss, but the connection feels hollow, as if the weight of unspoken words hangs heavy between you.

With a gentle gesture, he pulls out the stool for you, a silent invitation to join him. As you settle onto the seat, your gaze falls upon the meticulously arranged plate of food before you. Despite the rumbling of hunger in your stomach, an invisible barrier seems to stand between you and the meal, rendering it unappetizing despite its savory allure.

“How are you doing, babe?” He inquires, settling into the chair opposite you. With a tender gesture, he reaches for the water pitcher, his eyes never leaving yours as he fills your glass, a silent act of care amidst the weight of unspoken emotions.

Your gaze remains fixed on the plate before you, yet your mind races like a frantic symphony, each thought clamoring for attention amidst the chaos. Your heart quickens its pace within your chest, a drumbeat of apprehension echoing in the silence. Your palms grow clammy with the weight of unspoken words, and your head spins with the tumult of emotions swirling within.

“Babe?” His voice, soft yet insistent, pulls you from the depths of your swirling thoughts. Leaning in, his eyes search yours, brimming with concern, a silent plea for understanding in the midst of your internal storm.

“I...,” your voice falters, tears threatening to spill anew, a familiar ache settling in your chest. “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” the words tumble out, heavy with the weight of uncertainty and fear. As you speak, each syllable feels like a burden, your body tensing, constricted by the weight of your emotions. It’s as if your heart is trapped, pounding relentlessly against the confines of your ribs, suffocating in the tightness of the moment, each breath a struggle against invisible restraints.

“What do you mean?” His voice carries the weight of concern, etched with worry lines that deepen with each passing second. His eyes, a mirror to his troubled mind, search yours for answers, pleading for clarity amidst the fog of uncertainty.

“It’s tearing me apart, Jimin,” you confess, the words tumbling out in a rush, as if trying to escape the weight of your emotions. “Seeing you and Deiji together, it’s like a constant reminder of what I’m not ready for. I can’t handle it—I’m not prepared to step into that role, especially not with someone else’s child.” The heaviness in your chest threatens to suffocate you, each syllable a battle against the turmoil within.

Despite the softness in his gaze, your mind is too consumed by turmoil to fully register it. “I’m sorry, babe,” Jimin murmurs, his voice laced with genuine concern, but it feels distant, overshadowed by the weight of your confession.

His words, though well-meaning, falter as they leave his lips, carrying a hint of uncertainty that mirrors your own inner turmoil. “I’ve been trying to include you in everything... it’s going to be alright. I think we can do it together,” Jimin says, his voice wavering slightly, echoing the uncertainty that looms over your shared future.

With a heavy heart and trembling resolve, you muster the courage to speak your truth. “That hasn’t really helped me... and,” you draw in a deep breath, steeling yourself for the words to come, “I want to break up.” As the weight of your decision hangs in the air, you can almost hear the echoes of your heartbeat, each pulse a reminder of the profound shift unfolding between you.

His face registers the shock of your words, a flicker of hurt crossing his features as though caught off guard by the abruptness of your revelation. The surprise in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent testament to his obliviousness to the silent turmoil brewing beneath the surface for weeks. Amidst the whirlwind of impending fatherhood, perhaps your distress remained invisible, eclipsed by the overwhelming anticipation of a new chapter. It’s a bitter realization, yet you find no solace in casting blame; after all, his preoccupation was understandable given the circumstances.

His words tremble with uncertainty, mirroring the quiver in his voice that betrays a vulnerability you hadn’t fully anticipated. As his gaze meets yours, laden with a blend of confusion and desperation, you grasp the gravity of your decision. His untouched meal sits forgotten, a testament to the weight of your revelation. “You... you want to break up with me?” The question hangs heavy in the air, laced with a rawness that pierces through the silence. “I don’t want us to break up. I love you.” Yet, amidst the turmoil, his declaration of love resonates, a fragile plea tethered to the hope of salvaging what remains of your bond.

With a silent nod, you feel the lump in your throat constricting, stifling the words that threaten to spill forth, and tears blur your vision like unbidden raindrops on a windowpane.

“But I can’t do this anymore, Jimin. I love you deeply, I really do. But this… it hurts me so much, I can’t take it,” you express, your fingertips tracing a path along your arm as tears carve rivulets down your cheeks, your voice quivering with emotion and your breath hitching with each sniffle.

“Babe, I’m truly sorry. I had no idea you were carrying this weight and feeling like this,” his voice drips with sorrow, each word heavy with remorse, and it only amplifies the ache in your chest, pulling you deeper into the vortex of sadness.

“It’s okay. I should have talked to you sooner, it’s just been so hard. A lot has happened and you’re going to be a father and that’s great!” You force enthusiasm into your voice, the artificiality of it chafing against your soul, leaving a bitter aftertaste that lingers uncomfortably.

A furrow deepens upon his brow, betraying the storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. His lips, usually so quick to speak, now maintain an uneasy silence, concealing the torrent of thoughts and feelings poised to spill forth.

“I really think it’s best to break up,” you reiterate, sensing a fleeting calm settle over your racing heart.

“But I can’t bear the thought of losing you,” he pleads, his voice cracking, tears glistening in his eyes. It’s agonizing. You tighten your grip, desperately searching for any semblance of resolve.

“I know, I don’t want to lose you either. But as much as it pains me, I can’t go on like this. I need to break up,” you say, trying to hold firm, though every word feels like a jagged shard piercing your heart.

“If that’s truly what you want,” his voice barely audible, almost drowned in the weight of the moment, “then I... I understand.” 

“It is,” you respond, the finality of your decision echoing in the stillness of the room.

Tears cascade down both your cheeks, reflecting the pain and sorrow shared between you. With a heavy heart, you rise from the stool, your voice quivering with emotion. “I’m so sorry, Jimin.”

His gaze averts from yours, perhaps overwhelmed by the weight of the moment. You share the sentiment; the intensity is almost suffocating, tears obscuring your vision like a torrential downpour.

“Thank you for dinner. I’m sorry I couldn’t eat, and I’m sorry it had to end like this,” you manage through tears as you step out of the house. Each word feels like a boulder on your chest, weighing you down with the enormity of the situation. Behind you, Jimin’s sobs echo in the air, tugging at the fraying edges of your resolve. You yearn to turn back, to embrace him, and promise that somehow, everything will be alright. But deep down, you know that this pain is inevitable, and your heart, already fractured, can’t bear any more.

As you park your car at home, the weight of the evening’s emotional storm presses down upon you. Tears blur your vision as you lean back in your seat, surrendering momentarily to the overwhelming tide of sadness. Suddenly, a soft knock on your window breaks through the solitude. Startled, you glance over to find your sister standing there, her concerned eyes peering in through the glass, offering a glimmer of solace in the darkness of your despair.

You attempt to staunch the flow of tears with the rough fabric of your sleeve, and you take a deep breath and gather your courage before opening the door and stepping out into the cool night air.

Her eyes widen with concern, scanning your face for clues to the turmoil within. “What happened?” she asks, her voice laced with apprehension, mirroring the anxious furrow of her brow.

You collapse into her embrace, tears flowing freely as you surrender to the weight of your emotions. “I broke up with Jimin,” you confess, your voice choking with sorrow and regret.

She envelops you in a comforting embrace, whispering soothing words into your ear as her gentle hand traces comforting circles on your trembling back, offering solace in the warmth of her presence.

The solace she offers feels like a balm to your wounded soul, a fleeting moment of respite amidst the storm of emotions raging within you.

As she absorbs your tears with her embrace, she gently queries, “Why did you break up with him?” Her voice carries a blend of concern and curiosity, inviting you to share the weight of your heartache.

Amidst your tears and sniffles, you pour out your heart, “I don’t want kids and I can’t be in a relationship with Jimin and Deiji, because she’ll always be there now.” The weight of your words carries the burden of your decision, punctuating the depth of your emotional turmoil.

With gentle reassurance, she guides you across the yard, her comforting touch a lifeline in the storm of your emotions. Though your steps falter, you find solace in her presence as she leads you back into the sanctuary of the house, your tears mingling with the memories of what once was.

“I’m so sorry,” with heartfelt sincerity, she utters words of empathy, her voice a soothing balm to your wounded spirit. As you both settle onto the familiar embrace of the couch in the living room, she enfolds you in her arms once more, offering solace in the warmth of her embrace.

“Me too,” you manage between choked sobs, the ache in your chest palpable with each word. “I still love him so much. It fucking hurts!” Your voice rises, echoing the turmoil within, tears streaming down your face unabated. As your body trembles with emotion, you wonder if this pain will ever relent, if time will ever heal this shattered heart.

“It’s going to be alright, sis,” she murmurs, her voice a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. With gentle strokes, she caresses your hair, guiding your head to rest against her chest. In the warmth of her embrace, you find a fleeting solace, a momentary respite from the tempest of emotions tearing you apart.

“I don’t know, Jess…” You manage between hiccups, the weight of your words heavy with sorrow. “Jimin is the love of my life. I’m just not ready for kids... and I…” Pausing to gather the fragments of your shattered heart, you let the raw ache of longing spill forth. “I can’t do it. I feel jealous all the time. And now he’s going to be a dad?” Each syllable quivers with the agony of uncertainty, a plaintive cry echoing the turmoil within.

She gently pats your head again, a soothing rhythm against the tempest raging within you, yet the storm of emotions refuses to settle.

“I hate myself for feeling like this. For not being ready to have kids… but I just can’t,” you confess, your tears flowing erratically, echoing the tumultuous turmoil within.

“Perhaps my love isn’t strong enough,” you suddenly ponder aloud, lifting your gaze to seek solace in your sister’s eyes, hoping for clarity amidst the storm of doubts swirling within.

“I believe you love Jimin with every fiber of your being. But sometimes, prioritizing your own well-being is necessary. If you can’t fully commit, it’s better to step away before you’re consumed by the pain,” she offers, her words a balm to your wounded heart. Despite the anguish tearing you apart, her reassurance provides a glimmer of clarity, even though the thought of moving on from Jimin feels like an insurmountable task— and deep down you know that you’ll never get over Jimin.

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 💜

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[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 17

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 17: I'll Be Your Mirror

Chapter Summary: Fin.

Word Count: 6.0k+

Content / Warnings: listen if you made it this far you know what it is

Notes: Chapter title from “I'll Be Your Mirror" by Nico and The Velvet Underground. Ok I know I said there would be an Epilogue, but I decided... I really love it as is. This story is my baby and the feeling of finishing it is so bittersweet. Thank you to everyone who has ever given me the encouragement to feel this story is special. There are so many of you, I don't even know where to start. You know who you are.

[ Previous Chapter ] [ Series Masterlist ]

“Dee?”

He looks up from the notebook in his hand and goes still. 

To say that your heart skips a beat when he meets your gaze is an understatement. 

It freezes, along with everything else in the universe. You can’t move. You can’t breathe. You’re almost certain the Earth stops turning. 

Is he angry? Relieved? Shocked? 

You can’t tell. 

But then his tensed muscles go slack. His hunched shoulders drop from his ears. Glossy, pained eyes melting wide into wonderment. 

“Lua?” 

Hearing your name on his lips makes your stomach flip into free fall. Your pulse jumps. A sound escapes your chest that’s halfway between a sob and a laugh.

He drops the notebook and strides towards you.

You can only take one step forward before he’s pushing your back to the door, lips pressed against yours. His hands slip around your waist and pull your body flush to his while you comb your fingers through his hair. He groans into your mouth, tongue rolling soft on yours as you whine at how fucking perfect it feels. 

Unzipping your jacket, Dieter pulls back and rasps hot against your cheek, “I’m so glad you’re ok, I thought I fucking lost you.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, pressing your foreheads together as he strips off your jacket, “It was stupid, I shouldn’t have left like that—”

“Later,” he murmurs, shrugging off his fuzzy coat, then brings his mouth to your pulse and sucks the thin skin so hard you gasp, gripping his broad shoulders to bring him closer. 

His hands slip under your shirt—his shirt, actually, you stole it from a laundry basket before leaving his house—and he slides his heated palms against your bare skin. With a chuckle, he looks down at the garment and says, “You little thief.” 

You bite your lip and shrug, flicking your eyes around his face. 

“God, I missed you,” he grins, dimples and all.

“I missed you, too.”

Both your faces fade from amusement to something heavier as you study each other. Heat flickers at the middle of you when he brushes the back of his hand against your cheek. Your gaze dips to his mouth when he murmurs, “Don’t you dare leave me again.”

“I won’t—”

“Please.”

“I promise I won’t.” 

You meet his eyes so he can see how much you mean it, stroking the soft whiskers on his jawline with your thumb, “I love you, Dieter. I love you so fucking much.” 

His warm gaze flicks all over your face, “I love you, too.” 

Your throat thickens. You try to swallow down the discomfort before asking, “Are you mad?” 

“Mad?” 

You nod.

“No,” he scoffs, gently taking your hand to kiss each of your fingertips. 

It’s reverent, the way he does this. Worshipful. Like he’s thanking every piece of you for existing. 

He clears his throat. Pain creases his forehead, making his dark eyes go all gooey soft when he whispers, “I was so scared. I didn’t know if I’d find you dead or alive.”

It hits you hard. Right in the heart. 

You let out a guilty squeak. Your face crumbles. Tears cloud your vision, distorting him. You draw a shattered breath before responding. 

“I was going to do it. I was going to, umm,” you avert your eyes and shake your head, “I was gonna drown myself, Dee. I had everything ready, but… I couldn’t.”

A sob bursts from your belly. 

His body tenses and he pulls back ever so slightly, as if he were seconds away from calling off the conversation. But you stay firmly planted. You link your hands behind his neck and meet his tear-brimmed eyes with your own. When you speak, your voice trembles with honesty. 

“I thought that I was supposed to die. That my being here was a mistake, or like I was cursed or something. Destined to destroy your life if I stayed in it. I didn’t want to do that to you. But also,” you swallow hard and search his face, “I didn’t know if I could trust you not to break me like he did. I didn’t know if I could trust myself not to break you, either. I was so afraid… of everything. Of all the possibilities. Of not knowing what would happen.” 

The way he looks at you—shoulders slumped, jaw set, eyes all dewy with sorrow—it’s fucking torture. But you continue. 

“I was so afraid of everything… except dying. Dying felt like the best option.” 

Dieter sobs. It crushes your ribcage to dust. You have to keep going, though. You need him to understand that you mean this. 

“But I realized—just now, before you got here, like,” you laugh with bemusement and shake your head, “Immediately before you got here, your timing is truly blowing my fucking mind right now—”

He chuckles and wipes at his damp face. You smile, tilting your head at him. 

“I realized that… I was being a fucking coward. You’re not Ethan and I’m not Anika, and you and I… we’re something different. Dee, our love feels big the way the universe feels big. It’s never-ending and always growing and it is fucking forever. To turn my back on something like that would be… well, it would be fucking blasphemy.”

He smiles back at you, grip digging into your waist to bring you closer. 

You cup his cheeks and tell him, “There will be good days and bad, but I know that I will never regret choosing to stay.”

He stares at you with so much love and awe your chest aches. You can’t stop yourself from beaming at him. 

“No matter what the future has in store for us, I know that it will be worth spending every second I can with you in this beautiful, painful, amazing life.” 

His smile widens and he shakes his head, choking out, “Fuck, how do I follow that up?” 

You laugh, this soggy, wet laugh and bury your face in his shirt, then mumble against his chest, “You don’t have to, love, I just needed to tell you.” 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you. 

“For what?”

“For staying. For sharing with me, trusting in me—trusting in us. Without you… I don’t know. Everything is fucking stupid and meaningless. You make me a better me. And I need you. So. Thank you.” 

Your heart swells. 

“You make me a better me, too.” 

He pulls back to look at you, the warmth of his gaze sticking all over your face. Heat glints behind his eyes when they drop to your mouth. 

Something profound throbs between you. Newborn with shaky legs, taking its first breath. Intentional, fearless certainty. 

You kiss him, hard and purposeful, and he responds with fervor, the tips of his fingers digging into the tender skin of your waist. His tongue slides soft and wet and hot against yours, a slick writhing that hypnotizes you. Between the gentle crush of lips and nips from teeth and quiet whimpers that echo back and forth, you get lost in him. 

Time and space slip away and this kiss becomes the only thing you long to feel.

Dieter pushes your back flush to the cool door, warm hands exploring the tender skin beneath your shirt. His shirt. His skin. 

His his his—

He cups your breasts, the pads of his thumbs brushing over your nipples. The tedious touch sends a rush of need through your body. Whining into his mouth, you slide your nails down the expanse of his back, beckoning him closer, wordlessly begging for more. 

Of course, he gives it to you. 

Of course he pinches your nipples so hard you gasp, then tugs even harder. 

Of course he activates something primal deep within your brain, making you hiss, “Fuck yes.” 

“Does that feel good, baby? Hmm?”

“Yes—”

“Good,” he husks.

One hand unclamps. It slips under the waistband of your pants and slides down between your thighs, down to the hot, slick middle of you, where it rubs all those attention-starved nerves and makes them fucking purr. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

“Mmmm, how about that?” 

“So fucking good, Dee,” you moan, nodding your head in vehement approval as you arch your hips towards him, “Oh my god, yes.” 

Pulsing heat creeps up your spine, making your mouth go slack and lids drift closed. 

“Look at me.” 

Your eyes snap open to meet his. He searches your face with intensity, watching you twist up with pleasure, and drops his gaze to your lips when your panting becomes tainted with whimpers. 

“You’re so fucking hot I can’t stand it,” he mutters, shaking his head, “God, I wanna fuck you.” 

“Oh my god, please—”

“You want me to fuck you?” He releases his tight grip on your tit to stroke your cheek, his low voice almost a growl, “Hmm? Want me to fill your tight pussy?” 

“Yes—”

“Yeah?”

“Yes yes yes please, I wanna feel your cock inside me, Dieter I fucking need it please—”

“I want you to come for me first,” he works you faster, pressing his forehead against yours as he coos, “Can you do that for me, baby? Come all over my fucking hand?”

His request gushes hot down your spine. You gasp and nod frantically, then choke out a throaty moan as heat starts to branch out inside you. Your heart pounds hard and fast in your chest, white-hot need overflowing your veins and pooling thick between your legs, pulsing and growing, stronger, wider, pushing you up up up up—

It overtakes you. Rips you into a million pieces and puts you back together again. 

Your legs clamp shut. You twitch and whimper and gasp as his touch softens and slows. 

It doesn’t stop entirely, though. 

Just a gentle, languid back and forth that persists through ebbing aftershocks, assuring you he’s not done with you yet. 

Dieter rests his forehead against yours, breath warm on your parted lips when he says, “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”

You let out a dreamy chuckle, hooking your hands behind his neck.

And, fuck, his fingers feel so good. Sliding up and down, spreading your slick in a gentle manner, teasing but patient. So fucking patient. 

“I mean it. You are… amazing. I love every single thing about you.” 

He dips a thick fingertip in your entrance, sending a heady rush of need through your body, then drags it out to draw slow circles around your clit. His touch prods the glowing embers in your belly. They smolder beneath your skin and make your heart race. 

“Oh my god, Dee—”

“Even the parts you don’t think I want. I want it all, Lua. Forever. I never want to wake up without you by my side again.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe, “Forever and ever until I’m nothing, Dee, I’m fucking yours—”

His lips crush into yours. You moan into his mouth, accepting the warm caress of his tongue, urgent against yours. Between your thighs, he rocks his hand against you hard, then slips a digit inside you. 

Head rolling back onto your shoulders, you gasp, “Jesus fuck.”

“So fucking ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he laughs, delirious and breathy, then takes a step back, removing himself from your body completely. 

The loss sends you reeling. Like a puppy, you glob onto him, not wanting to part from him for a second. 

Regarding your desperation with a smirk, he takes your hand, “Come on.” 

You follow along behind him, grinning at the way he carries himself with authority, striding through the cabin like this has been his residence for the past few days, not yours. 

When you cross the threshold into a bedroom, he turns to ask, “This one ok?”

Nodding, you push him back towards the bed and tug at his clothes, a silent plea he quickly grants. You mirror his actions, stripping down to nothing as he sits down on the edge of the bed and stares up at you, all fuck-me-eyes and parted lips. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” you coo, slotting yourself between his knees, combing your nails through his hair, “Looking up at me with those puppy dog eyes. I love it.” 

His eyelids flutter and his cock twitches. A little bead of pre-cum sprouts up at the tip. 

You lick your lips and smirk, wrapping your hand around his girth, gasping when you smear the swollen droplet with the pad of your thumb. 

Dieter groans, grabbing your waist. He twitches again. 

You pull back his foreskin, forming an ‘o’ with your mouth when more of the viscous liquid slips against your thumb. 

You think about how it might taste, salty and hot on your tongue. You think about his hard, smooth length stretching out your lips, soaking wet with drool as he fucks your face. 

“If you keep looking at it like that I’m gonna blow my fucking load,” he mutters, burying his face between your breasts. 

When you respond by churning your grip, a moan vibrates against your sternum. As if he can’t help himself, Dieter slides his hands up your body and grabs your tits. 

He takes one in his mouth, then the other, sucking and licking and biting your swollen nipples while you work him, slow and meticulous. His muffled whines stoke your desire, flames hot and tingling up your spine. 

Looking up at you with big doe eyes, he flattens his tongue against your nipple, then moves his head from side-to-side. 

“That feels fucking amazing, Dee, oh my god,” you pant, drawing your brows together as you nod in approval at the heated sensation that clings to your bones. 

Arousal urges you to pump him faster, and when you do, he husks, “Fuck, Lua—”

“Hmm?”

“Please.”

The tips of his fingers dig into your waist and he scoots further back onto the bed, ushering you onto his lap, “Wanna feel that sweet pussy wrapped around me, please, baby, please.”

Your knees settle on either side of his hips and you fold forward, smoothing your hands up his broad chest, to his neck, then you cup his cheeks. He searches your face, wild-eyed and desperate. 

“I love seeing you like this,” you purr, brushing your thumb against his bottom lip, “So fucking needy.”

He groans and his hips jerk, the tip of him nudging up against your entrance. You tease him with it, letting him feel how hot and wet you are without allowing access. 

“Do you want my pussy, baby? Or do you need it?”

“I need it,” he rasps, the tendons in his neck going taut he grips your hips with bruising strength, “I’ll fucking die if I don’t feel it, I swear to god, please—”

You lower yourself down slowly, whimpering at the exquisite stretch that reverberates through you. 

His back arches off the mattress and he groans, “Fffffuck yes. Holy fucking shit, Lua—”

“So fucking good, oh my god,” you croak, rolling your hips.  

You take him slow at first, savoring the way he fills you so perfectly, how he rubs along every tingling nerve inside you. Beneath you, Dieter pants and writhes, devout hands roaming your humid skin, worshiping you.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I love you,” he pants, thrusting up into you so hard and deep you moan. He lets out a gasping chuckle, then drives his hips up again, and again, and again.

You nod in approval. Thick static bubbles at your center. You press your forehead against his, pushing back against his thrusts as they establish a steady rhythm. 

“Wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” 

“Wanna spend—fuck,” you whimper, nodding again, “Wanna the rest of my life with you.” 

“Wanna marry you, make you my wife—”

Still nodding, you choke out, “Yes, oh my fucking god yes—”

“Would you like that? Hmm? Get you a pretty dress and a ring? Show the whole world that I’m yours and you’re mine?”

“I want it, Dee, I do. I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours—“

He captures your lips and pounds into you, hard and fast, exchanging moans with you like vows, vibrating on your tongue as the tingling heat in your belly stretches wider, climbing up your body, swelling and swelling, pulling your muscles tight, until you find yourself suspended in a moment you both never want to end and don’t think you can stand any longer. 

Then, it bursts. 

You sob when the wave of pleasure washes over and under you, making this sick wet sucking noise as your whole body convulses around him. 

Dieter whines against your mouth, fucking up into your fluttering cunt with crazed, frantic thrusts. He goes rigid and silent for a second, then releases a guttural noise from his chest. 

When his breath returns to him and his muscles start to slacken, you meet his eyes with a grin that spreads to his lips. 

You kiss him, slow and deep, then go limp on his chest, “I love you.” 

“I love you.”

The two of you stay here for a while, content and rubber-limbed. His fingertips trace the scar tissue on your shoulder and arm while sand gathers heavy on your eyelids. 

“I haven’t been able to sleep,” you mumble into the damp crook of his neck, “Not sober, at least. Now you’re here and we have so much to talk about.” You yawn, “And I’m so tired.”  

He kisses the crown of your head, then gently persuades you to roll off him onto the mattress. Like a sleepy child, helplessly lethargic and too engrossed in comfort to do it yourself, you let him pull the bedspread out from beneath you and tuck you between the sheets. 

The warmth of his skin presses up against yours as he drapes an arm over your belly and tugs you close. When he speaks, his breath is warm on your cheek, voice low and quiet. 

“Get some rest, love. We can talk more tomorrow.” 

His offer is tempting, but one question nags at the back of your brain and gives you a small burst of energy. 

You roll onto towards him, blinking your weighted eyes open to meet his, all gooey and soft as they search your face. 

“Did you mean it?” 

A mischievous smirk plays on his lips, “What, that I wanna marry you?” 

You nod. 

“Yeah,” he grins and grabs your hand to kiss your palm, then holds it to his cheek, “What about you? Did you mean it? Do you wanna marry me?”

For some reason, your cheeks get hot and you laugh. The noise is water-logged, struggling against the tears that burn up your throat and blur your vision.

“Yeah, I really fucking do.” 

These aren’t the kinds of tears you’re used to crying. They’re celebratory. Joyous. You find yourself unable to stop smiling through them. 

“This is crazy,” you tell him, shaking your head, “I love you so much it’s fucking crazy.” 

“I love you,” he smiles and brings your hand to his chest, pressing your palm against the thump-thump of life and light and love, “Do you feel that?”

“Your heart?”

He nods, “That’s yours. ‘Til my last breath, then after. It’s yours.” 

—

Dieter listens to the peaceful dozing huffs that blow hot across his chest, cherishing each and every one. 

He savors the heat of your body on his, the blood pumping through your veins, and the flutter of REM behind your closed eyelids. Proof that you are here, alive and safe in his arms. An answer to his desperate prayers. 

Something like relief but bigger engulfs him. 

Warmth tingles through his limbs and tears sting behind his eyes. His throat gets all thick with emotion as he pulls your pliant body closer, pressing a kiss against your forehead. 

Careful not to be too loud, he whispers, “Thank you.” 

He’s not sure who he’s thanking. You or fate or whatever omnipresent puppeteer pulls the strings behind the scenes. He just knows he means it with his whole heart. 

Dieter lays here for some time, live-wired with optimism, thinking up a million ways to convey the intensity of his gratitude. His mind wanders into tomorrow and buzzes with anticipation. He gets to tell you about his impromptu trip to New York, and that your charges are dropped. 

Goosebumps prick his skin as a realization dawns on him. 

You don’t even know. 

When deciding to stay, you factored in the consequences of these charges. Your devotion to him was not because of this resolution, but in spite of it. 

You had every single reason to doubt this would work. Probable prison time. Shrapnel from the fame machine. Ongoing recovery. The ugly demise of his marriage. The tragic end to yours.

Fuck, it’s a shit show. 

And yet, here you are. 

He gazes down at you, far away in dreamland, cheek pressed against the rise and fall of his chest. All angel-faced, but with a little drool at the corner of your mouth. Fucking beautiful. 

On one hand, he could stay here watching you sleep like a fucking stalker for hours. On the other, his stomach growls for attention. 

When he contemplates whether or not to untangle himself from you and tend to this need, you let out a little grumble, then start wiggling around, rolling away from him. He misses the heat of your body as soon as it’s gone, but lets you go anyway. 

He carefully gets out of bed and wanders through the dark cabin into the kitchen. 

The cupboards are essentially barren, which is both disappointing and unsurprising, but he finds some bread and drops a couple slices into the toaster. While guzzling down a tall glass of iron-flavored water, he notices piles of towels and blankets stacked on the kitchen counter. This piques his curiosity. 

To put it lightly, you are an incredibly neat and tidy person. Normally you wouldn’t allow this kind of disorder in your living space, however temporary. He should know. Last week you pulled the clothes out of his dresser and gave him a tutorial on how to fold “the right way” before organizing the acrylic paints in his studio by hue. 

Your need for order only increases when you’re distressed, which you definitely were, so… what the fuck is up with this? 

When he rounds the countertop peninsula to investigate, something catches his eye. Big slabs of wood propped up next to a door in the hallway. The door sits ajar, the crack emitting a warm golden glow. 

His footsteps creak across the wooden floor as he approaches it. Somehow he knows what he’ll find when he opens the door, and releases an amused chuckle when his suspicions are confirmed. 

Dark fabric draping the walls. A dimmed-down lantern propped up behind a makeshift seat. The seat, a makeshift nest of pillows and blankets, faces a mirror. 

You built a psychomanteum. 

Something tugs at his memory, causing him to turn on his heel and walk towards the couch. He picks up the notebook he discarded when you walked through the door and revealed yourself. 

He studies the page in abstract, catching little glimpses here and there. Words like unrecognizable and hopeless and monster. Fragments like swerving around traffic, and crying, begging.

Some sentences stand out so much, he can’t help but snag on them. 

It was over, I couldn’t do it anymore.

He called me a bitch. A rat.

It didn’t seem real.

He said we had to do this together.

Far away, the toaster pops. He’s not even hungry anymore. In fact, quite the opposite. He feels fucking sick. 

A smattering of circles distort in the paper, black ink bleeding out from your script as if diffused by tiny droplets of moisture. Probably tears. 

Grotesque curiosity churns beneath his skin. 

He swallows around his thick throat and looks up at the closet. The psychomanteum. 

The first time he tried to read the passage, before he knew you were ok, he was in such a state of panic that he didn’t fully understand what it was. But he understands now. He sees the pieces and how they fit together. 

His stomach twists when he recognizes the pattern laid out before him. His ribcage shrinks two sizes, pushing his pulse to his ears. He runs a hand through his hair and wrings his tight neck as he realizes with horror that he has been a similar kind of monster. 

He knows he had a problem. And it wasn’t as much the drugs or infidelity as it was the emptiness. An infection that set in early and rotted out a cavity in his chest. In his heart. 

He knows it made him change in unspeakable ways, altering the very nature of his character. It made him angry and reckless and fucking ravenous. Starving for anything that would fill him up, however fleeting. 

He was a fucking beast. 

He also knows you love him. Flaws and all, you love him. You had the grace to forgive every unforgivable mistake he made. 

Could Dieter do the same? 

He tosses the notebook down on the coffee table and walks to the closet, opening the door. As he steps inside, he takes the lantern from behind the seat and turns to face him in the mirror. 

He studies the face, recognizing the distinct nose and dark eyes. Mop of messy brown curls atop his head. He looks tired, but hopeful. 

Staring at his reflection, Dieter tells himself, “I forgive you.” 

—

The first thing you notice when you rouse from sleep is the warmth that surrounds you. 

You feel Dieter’s chest flush to your back, arms wrapped around your middle, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your combined body heat under the covers makes your skin stick together. The steady rhythm of his breathing moves in time with yours. 

Before you even open your eyes, you smile. 

Your fingertips twitch against his arm and you try to wiggle even closer, intertwining your legs with his. 

Behind you, Dieter stirs a little, then mumbles into your neck, “G’morning, doll.” 

“Good morning, love.” 

He takes a deep breath in, squeezing you tight, and exhales a groan, “You smell so fucking good what the fuck.”

“I haven’t bathed in days,” you giggle, reaching back to run your fingers through his hair, “I’m stinky.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“You’re bullshit.” 

He laughs this big, boisterous laugh as he rolls onto his back, separating from you save for the arm pinned under your side. 

You miss his heat immediately and turn over to face him, scooting close enough to feel it. His gaze holds pure adoration. Your fingertips meet his and play this sort of dance before he laces your hands together. 

He asks, “Wanna take a bath then go get some grub?” 

—

Dieter lathers up a washcloth, watching the muscles shift beneath your skin as you rinse the remaining conditioner from your hair with a shower head attachment.

When you turn it off, you glance over your shoulder at him and announce, “I’m probably going to prison.” 

He sits up and presses the steaming washcloth to your back, working suds up the curve of your spine. 

“You’re not going to prison.” 

You relax into his touch and snort, “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“I took care of it.”

“Wha—wait,” you sit up, then turn around to face him, water sloshing around with you. You furrow your brow and stare at him, “What does that mean?”

“It means the DA dropped the charges against you.” 

Your eyes narrow as you search his face, “Are you fucking with me?”

“I’m dead serious.” 

“How?” 

His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth as he averts his gaze, shrugging, “Let’s just say that, for plausible deniability reasons, it’s best you don’t know anything else.” 

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not!” he laughs, tugging at your waist. You jokingly wrinkle your nose at his affection, but let him pull you into his lap. 

“C’man, sweetheart. Look at me.” He waits until your eyes meet his, then tells you, “I swear to god I’m not fucking with you. You’re clear. A free woman.” 

Your shoulders fall away from your ears. You clamp down on your huge smile, then it breaks free, “Really?”

The way you light up at this news… It is breathtaking. Jesus fucking Christ. Worth every second of misery. 

“Really,” he smiles, cupping your cheek. 

You try to blink away tears with a relieved burst of laughter. You stare at him, glossy eyes all ripe with admiration as they flick around his face, “Thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he murmurs, holding your gaze, “I’d do anything for you, Louella. You know that?”

Your smile gets bigger somehow. You nod, “I do.”

His stomach flips when he imagines you saying those words in front of that ordained minister he saw in his near-death vision. Little details come into focus. He can taste the salt of the ocean and feel heat from the overhead sun. Light filters through a canopy of sheer white fabric. 

The crowd of onlookers is small. Of course, he sees Parker and Darlene and Lincoln. He sees Glenn, looking like a fucking dick as usual, but grinning nonetheless. He sees his brother’s family, the small children all wriggling around in their chairs. He sees a couple, a man and woman around retirement age, that he doesn’t quite recognize, but he understands that they’re Ethan’s parents. He sees his mother dab her eyes with a tissue while his father curls an arm around her shoulders, letting the faintest smile creep across his lips as he watches you slide a wedding band on Dieter’s ring finger. 

Atop your head sits a band of stars, forged from gold and adorned with dazzling crystals that glimmer in the sunlight. Corona Borealis for his Princess of Crete. Your dress is cream-colored chiffon and lace and fucking perfect. You have on that smile, the one that takes up your whole face. The one you’re wearing now. 

You take the washcloth from him and dunk it under the hot, sudsy water, then bring it to his chest. The smile on your lips lingers as you wash, lathering up his skin with tiny iridescent bubbles. 

“What does Darlene think of all this?” you ask, glancing up at him. 

Smoothing his hands around to the small of your back, he shrugs and pulls your slick body closer, “In a personal sense, supportive. She helped a lot actually. Held down the fort while I was in New York.” 

“While you were—” you scoff, shaking your head with an amused grin, “Dieter, what the fuck have you been up to?” 

“Long story, I’ll tell you on the drive home,” he grins. 

“Fine,” you snort and roll your eyes, but fold forward against his chest. His eyes drift closed as he relaxes into the heat of your body pressed to his. Fingertips sliding against his collarbone, you ask, “So the blowback to your career has been minimal?” 

He gulps when he contemplates how to answer, not wanting to scare you into a spiral that sends you running again. But it is what it is. You’ll find out sooner or later anyway. 

“Not… necessarily. It’s been pretty brutal, actually. Mark and Darlene wanted me to throw you under the bus and move on without you, but I refused. So they dropped me.” 

You prop yourself up and frown at him, “I thought you said Darlene—”

“She was helping me find you, Lua. She’s supportive of our relationship as my friend, but…”

Your eyebrow quirks, “The optics are shit?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, searching your surprisingly serene face, “It’s ok, though, you know. You were right, I don’t enjoy it anymore. Acting, I mean. I think I’ve been too scared to try anything else, but… I don’t know. I think I’m ready now. I’m ready for the next chapter of my life.” 

“You could try writing,” you offer as you trace his jawline, “I could find a job at a bakery or something. It’ll be ok. We’ll figure it out, I know we will.” 

He nods, “We will.”

“I love you, Dee,” you say, holding his gaze, “We can do fucking anything together.”

Your certainty hits him square in the chest. 

For him, love always cast a dark shadow of fear that warned him to be distant. Not too eager or enthusiastic. Careful not to be fumbled by the wrong hands and wind up broken. 

It doesn’t feel like that anymore, he thinks. 

Your presence in his life has always been big and blinding. The warmth of your love has blistered his skin more times than he can count. He has dedicated hours upon hours of his life this past year trying to understand your magnitude and longevity, trying to measure the shadow that the fear of losing you cast. The dimensions fluctuated in a non-linear sort of way, waxing and waning with the circumstances surrounding your relationship. 

But now? 

You are the sun at high noon. No fucking shadow in sight. 

—

“All set?”

“I think so,” you zip up your suitcase and look up at Dieter as he leans against the doorframe. Your stomach growls and you groan, “If we don’t get food soon—” 

“I found a Denny’s about 30 miles away. Open on Christmas.” 

“Thank fucking god.” 

Dieter chuckles and buries his hands in his coat pockets, “Oh, by the way…”

He pulls out a small, familiar sketchpad and hands it to you. Nostalgia spreads warm across your chest as you open the cover and flip through Ethan’s artwork. Each page depicts dark and painful images that tug at your heart, reminding you of how much he was suffering. 

“How did you—?”

“Part of the long story. Tell you on the way home. But, umm… I figured you should have it.” 

You nod, pausing to study a high-contrast illustration that feels different from the previous pages. At first, it just looks like a collection of bold black triangles. The edges and points are crisp. Precise. But as you stare at it, your perspective shifts. The white paper beneath the black ink starts to stand out bright, then rises above the dark hollows. 

When it comes into focus, you gasp. 

It’s a face. 

It’s your face, carved out from negative space. 

“That one’s my favorite,” Dieter tells you, “He, umm… he was really talented.” 

Through your burgeoning tears, you smile, “Yeah. He was great.” 

You tear the portrait from the sketchbook and hand it to Dieter, who asks, “What about the rest?” 

Instead of answering, you step past him and take the sketchbook to the living room, where you lower yourself down in front of the fireplace and open the grate. Dieter follows, sitting down beside you as you tear out the first page and feed it to glowing embers in the hearth. 

Flames crackle to life, burning the paper to ash. 

You give it another. 

And another. 

And another. 

When the sketchbook is just an empty shell, you toss it in. Then Dieter hands you something. You glance it over for a moment, recognizing the painful passage you wrote the night before. You give that to the fire, too. 

He takes your hand and sits there with you while the flames die and return to smolders. 

“How’d that feel?” he asks eventually. 

“Fucking perfect.” 

You turn to him, searching his face, “Thank you.” 

The corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk and he squeezes your hand, “Anytime, doll.” 

When you lean in to kiss him, his lips are soft and warm against yours. A sensation swells in your chest, this glowing kaleidoscope of patterns that shifts and twists into a million brilliant images. It feels like forever in the best way. It feels like heaven. 

He pulls back, those big ganache eyes meeting yours, “You ready?” 

“Yeah,” you nod and smile at him, “I’m ready. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Groaning, Dieter climbs to his feet and holds out his hand to you. You accept it, letting him help you up. Your hands stay firmly locked together as he grabs your ratty old suitcase and leads you to the door, out of the dark room and into the bright midday sun.

#psychomanteum #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x ofc #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo smut #dieter x reader #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fluff #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #x reader

[yoonia]

Free Falling (M) | pjm

➬ Title | Free Falling - final instalment from the Falling series (with bonus epilogue)

➬ Summary | People say that you should let life take its course, and to always be ready to open your heart for love. You have learned to allow yourself for the latter, but as always, allowing yourself to open up to every possibilities that life could give you have always been hard for you to do. Your first instinct has always been about hiding your desire, to protect yourself from hurt, but is it worth it to risk it all by keeping it as a secret from the one you love the most?  

↳ Pairings | Park Jimin x reader

↳ Genre | Singer!Jimin, non-idol!au, ex-assistant!reader, Established relationship!au, Smut, Angst

↳ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; talks about pregnancy, a mild hint of pregnancy scare, mentions of birth control, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, explicit smut scenes, including: Jimin’s obsession for boobs, soft dom!Jimin, multiple smut scenes, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, studio/office sex, breast play, nipple play (involves sucking, biting, pinching), hand job, thigh riding, dry humping, riding, grinding, clothed sex, light spanking, pussy slapping, fingering (female receiving), oral sex (female receiving), clit play, hair pulling, manhandling, rough sex, ass biting, dirty talk, swearing, light restraint/bondage, pain kink, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, implied creampie, impregnation/breeding kink…and just like always, a sappy ending.  

↳ Word count | 22k words (whoops…I did it again!)  

↳ Story Masterlist: Falling trilogy

↳ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Commissions

↳ Cross post | AO3 | Inkitt | Wattpad (links coming soon!)

↳ Music companion | Lately - Jonisa

➬ Author’s Note | Written as a commission for @opaljm​ | I’m so sorry that this one took forever, but I do hope that you’ll enjoy this story and I hope this would be a nice belated birthday gift for you to read. I’ve been working on this story for a long time, since I did plan this one to be posted as Jimin’s birthday fic, so I feel somewhat bonded with these characters. Thank you so much for commissioning me and for throwing me these ideas with this Jimin. Even if it took me a while to finish, I did enjoy writing this story for you and it really felt good to give this closure to this couple. Have fun reading! (Ps. I hope the epilogue at the end would be enough to make up for the long wait)

“It’s probably nothing.”

If you had any intention of reassuring anyone with those words, it would be painfully obvious that your effort is completely fruitless. You could hear how empty those words had sounded, with not a stir of hope materialising within you as you voiced them out loud. Even as you keep repeating the same words inside your head in the silence that soon follows, you still cannot tell exactly who you were directing those words to.

Keeping your eyes on the bathroom counter, you can feel Jimin hovering close by. There is no doubt that his curiosity is much stronger than what he is letting on, though there is no doubt that he is just as nervous about this as you are when he chooses to remain in the doorway rather than stepping inside to be by your side. It feels odd to be facing this on your own, though you welcome his distant support when you are not quite sure what you are feeling right now yourself.

“Still, we need to make sure, don’t you think?” Jimin questions you, suddenly sounding much closer this time. You can feel his presence filling the room before his hands reach out to touch you, resting on your shoulders to let you know that he is there with you.

Calmness washes over you at his touch. You breathe a sigh of relief and place your hand on top of his to gain more strength from his warmth. And yet you still cannot find it in you to look away. There is an unexplainable fear that makes you believe that once you blink, then the white strip on top of the counter would either disappear or change shape. You simply cannot let that happen. Not when you need some answers.

How long has it been?

How long were we supposed to wait?

As the questions keep running through your mind, suddenly everything else feels obscured. Seconds feel like minutes, minutes feel like hours, and time becomes nothing more but an illusion as it seems to drag on as you wait.

Taking a deep breath while clutching tighter on Jimin’s hand, you try to hold your composure and remain patient. Truth be told, you absolutely have no idea what you are expecting to see, yet you also didn’t expect to feel this tense over something like this either. You wonder if perhaps everything that had happened leading up to this point may have added to your agitation and doubt. It seems to have somehow drawn you to start second guessing yourself and everything that you believed to be true.

With your eyes on the white strip, you recall the conversation that you shared with Jimin early this morning. Starting from the comment that you had made so nonchalantly when you had just woken up, followed by the talk which had led him sending his poor housemaid out to buy an entire bag of pregnancy tests while you slipped into the shower.

“Is that normal?” was the question that he gave you, catching you by surprise. You had not seen him in the room when you first woke up, and for some reason, he had to choose that moment to come back, just in time to hear you murmuring to yourself about the late arrival of your monthly period.

It never even crossed your mind before. Not until the moment you opened the calendar application on your phone to check today’s schedule and realised how long ago your last period had been.

“You’re still home? Aren’t you supposed to be at the gym already? And why are you spying on me?”

It hadn’t been your intention to avoid answering his question. You barely had time to process your own thoughts when he came into the bedroom wearing his workout clothes, as he would usually be out on his morning workout routine by the time you would be awakened from your slumber. Jimin looked awfully worried when he gently took your phone away from you, stopping you from changing the conversation again when he repeated the question.

“It’s nothing, I’m sure. My period does come regularly most of the time, but that’s not always been the case. I’m only a couple of weeks late. I’ve been busy lately, and it could happen because my stress level is high without me realising it or because I’ve been skipping meals when I’m working. It’s natural to happen, so I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” you had tried your best to convince him with various excuses despite his worries, before escaping his attention by rushing into the shower, hoping that he would let it go once you were done. Though it was already far too late by then, as he had already made up his mind to do something about it.

Hence the pregnancy test, which he handed to you right the moment you stepped out of the shower, followed by a long process of you taking the said test—two sets of them—and waiting anxiously for the results together as Jimin chose to skip going to the gym altogether. You may not have had the slightest hint of curiosity or concern before, but it is quite clear that his reaction and the tension that you can feel rolling out of him are beginning to affect you, and you are beginning to feel just as anxious as he is.

“I’m telling you, it’s probably nothing,” you try telling him again, though your words no longer hold the same conviction as they had earlier when you are purposely aiming for them to calm yourself down. “My period also came irregularly quite often when I first started working with you, back when I was working crazy hours and was stressing out over adjusting to living in the city, so I’m sure it’s probably the same thing. You know that I’ve been—”

Jimin’s hold on your shoulders tightens just then, and you watch with bated breath as the line begins to show on the strip. Then it stops before another ever comes up to join the first one.

“Negative,” the word comes out of you with a relieved sigh, as all the worries and tension are lifted from you. Though contrary to what you are feeling, your own voice somehow sounds a bit distant and unrecognisable even to yourself.

But you can easily recognise the unmistakable sound of a deep exhale of sigh coming from behind you as Jimin slowly relaxes. “Well, I guess you’re right. That’s what, the second test that shows negative?”

You turn to him then with a teasing smile. “Told you so. Should’ve listened to me when I told you not to worry about it so much. I’ve been busy with work, that’s all. And things are getting a bit stressful since it’s entering the end of the year,” you tell him with a shrug, already playing it off as if it’s not a big deal, hoping to change the mood.

The look that he is giving you, however, says differently.

His eyes convey something that is quite unreadable, a bit of an odd mix of concern, relief, and sombreness. The latter one gives a tight pinch in your chest, and it is the kind of emotion that you really hate seeing from him. And you don’t like not knowing where it is coming from.

Wanting to erase the troubled look on his face, you place your palms on his cheeks, pulling his attention back to you until he is looking at you straight in the eyes so you can reassure him, “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll call my physician to have my health checked up to make sure that everything’s okay. And that I’m absolutely fine.”

Your words bring a bit of light back to his eyes when he smiles. “There’s no need if you don’t want to,” he says, before leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose, drawing a soft giggle out of you. “Are you going to be super busy again today? Can’t you take it easy until we’re sure you’re really okay?” he begins asking you, though almost distractedly, as his eyes have begun roaming down your body that is still clad in the silky robe that you put on after stepping out of the shower while his hands are beginning to slide down your waist.

“Ah, I only have a lunch meeting with the people from the foundation. And then I’m seeing Hyorin, the actress that Yerin has been working with lately. She had asked to see me after I’m done with the meeting for some advice, but I don’t think it’ll be too long. I might be able to come back right before dinner,” you answer him, recalling the short list of appointments that you have for today with more effort than you should have, and with your voice slowly fading out with the distraction that Jimin is giving to you.

Because just when you start answering him, Jimin moves to raise his hand up from your waist and starts trailing a finger over your breasts. Starting with his teasing touch, he gently runs the tip of his finger over your cleavage, finding the skin that has been exposed from where the top of your robe is parted.

Noticing the change in the tone of your voice and seeing how you are slowly growing breathless with anticipation, he starts becoming more brazen with his touches. Your voice fades to a gasp as he traces a finger down one breast, following the silky lining of your robe until he finds your covered nipple before trailing back up again to the other side, his finger never losing contact with your breast the entire time, even as your breathing starts to grow heavier.

“Good. I won’t have to part with you for too long, then,” you faintly hear him say as his finger lingers a bit too long over the tip of your breast, rubbing at the hardening peak from over your thin robe.  

“What are you up to?” you question him when his touch seems deliberate, and when he seems pleased the moment the subtle tremble of your chest becomes more obvious as he continues.

Seeing your reaction, Jimin’s lips rise to a smile. “Nothing much,” he whispers heavily, as if he is just as affected by his own touches the way you do. “I was just thinking—” he says as he pulls his hand away, “—since we got the test out of the way, it means we have no problem, right? Nothing to worry about. Although—I’d like to think that it only means that we have been given some more time to enjoy ourselves, maybe have some practice since we still have a long way to go before we would have to worry about something like this again.”

Before your mind clears out of the fog that he had created and you have the chance to question what he is trying to say, Jimin reaches out to clean out the bathroom counter with one swipe of his hand. He tosses the used test strips and their empty packages into the trash and wipes the cold surface clean with the sleeve of his sweatshirt before his hands find your waist.

“Jimin, what are you—oh!” you let out a gasp when he swiftly lifts you up and sets you up on the counter, your bathrobe barely covering your skin from the cold surface as the hem merely ends right under your buttocks.

As if he knows where the rush of chill surging through your body is coming from, Jimin brings his hands down to your exposed thighs. The gentle touch of his palms on your skin gives you the warmth that you need, but he gives you no chance to embrace it when he leans in, taking your attention from his hands with a kiss.

As always, Jimin manages to calm your rapid thoughts even with nothing more but the slightest touch of his lips on yours. While his hands continue roaming down your body, grazing the under curves of your breasts through your thin robe, then tracing and feeling your torso as his touch makes its way down to your waist. He steals your voice with his kiss, his lips moulding perfectly with yours. Even as the kiss grows with fervour, his lips still feel as soft as the clouds, enough to cool down the heat that he lights up within you with his gentle fingers.

Just as his hands grow more daring, he begins deepening the kiss further. The sensation he is giving to you makes your body grow hotter and you lean into him further, your body moving to chase his touch while you return his kiss, moaning softly as his tongue comes licking out, pressing its way into your mouth. Your mind begins swirling while he keeps devouring your lips. His hands move lower, finding the silky ties that are holding your robe together and tugging them loose until the front of your robe falls open, exposing your bareness to him. The sudden chill that touches your skin draws a gasp out of you that you pull away from him, yet Jimin doesn’t mind it, as he already has his attention somewhere else.

He smiles when you slowly open your eyes. His lips are wet and swollen from the kiss, and you lick your own lips seeing this, still feeling the touch of his lips lingering on yours. Just as you are about to pull him back for another kiss, his hands slip under your robe, opening it further apart, before he easily moves his palms to cup the soft mounds of your breasts. As you arch your chest into his touch, he gently brushes his thumbs across your nipples, moving against them in slow up-and-down strokes, then in circles, repeating the same patterns until they grow hard against his sinful touches while you begin to experience all the delicate shivers flowing through your body.

“Beautiful,” he muses with a hum as he keeps tweaking your nipple. A soft cry escapes your lips, yet his gaze remains on your breasts. He has been drawn completely to the rise and fall of your chest and the way your soft skin grows tighter the more he continues to work on your body. There is a deep, hungry glaze in his eyes as he takes his time playing with your hardened nub, as he continues to tweak, pinch, and pull, stretching and releasing it while you keep arching your chest into his touch.

He gives another tweak when your gasp comes out louder, and only then does he stop. His eyes find yours, before he gives you a smile that is filled more with mirth than warmth. “Sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?” he asks you, though he doesn’t wait for an answer when he soon adds, “Let me heal you, baby. Perhaps you’ll feel better with a kiss.”

Jimin puts a hand on your back, holding you steady and keeping you from falling backwards while he leans forward, his mouth closing onto the nipple that he has been playing with. He starts lightly sucking on it, using his lips to rub across the area where his fingers had been, then his tongue joins in to give a couple of licks, moving slowly across and rolling around the nub as if he is trying to lick a wound. The rush that you feel in your body from his treatment is completely indescribable. It feels so good, electrifying, and so decadent that you lose complete control of your body as it reacts to the sensation that he is giving you.

Your head falls back with a moan when he suddenly switches to the other breast. He does the same thing with his mouth and tongue, taking his sweet time with it and never stopping until it grows just as hard as the other. You feel his other hand crawling up, cupping the neglected mound with his palm before his fingers begin playing with its throbbing peak. Both your nipples have grown wet and hard, and your breasts feel as if they have become swollen and tight at the same time. The feeling he is giving you is exhilarating and you don’t want him to stop. But the moment you feel his hips pushing forward, nudging at your knees to silently request for you to spread them open for him, you know that he is not done yet.

Even in your high, you still know what to do to give him what he wants. Scooting a few inches forward on the counter, you part your legs for him, allowing him to slide between your thighs. Your trembling hands come up to his chest in your search for contact. Your eyes fall open when instead of finding his warm skin, your fingers are met with his sweatshirt.

“Off—” is the only thing that you can say to him, though your fingers are adequate to help make it clear as you begin pulling the front of his shirt.

With a chuckle, Jimin releases you and pulls back just long enough to pull his shirt up and over his head. In a blink of an eye, the shirt is gone, tossed away to the floor and he returns to you with his chest bare and warm enough to touch. His lips, all wet and swollen after devouring your breasts, are lifted to a sly smirk. “There. Happy?”

Biting your lips, you keep your gaze on his face while you reach out to him, grabbing onto the waistband of his sweatpants to give it a pull. “Not quite yet.”

You give the strings holding them up on his waist a strong tug and let go, and the pants simply fall to the ground, pooling around his feet. Jimin steps out of it and kicks it away, not wasting any more time as he also rips his briefs off before returning to his position between your parted legs. He moves so swiftly, yet it is the sight of his erection pointing straight at you which pulls every possible reaction that he could get.

Heat rises all over your body, starting from your face and all the way down between your legs. You have begun fighting a losing battle to compose yourself, to stop yourself from reaching out to touch him when he settles against your center. His cock is now standing between you and only barely touching, while his hands come to your thighs, rubbing gently in small circles that feel maddening and calming at the same time.

"So what was it again that you said…something about having some extra time to practice?” you question him, no longer able to hold back when your hand comes down, finding his length. His cock feels firm and hard against your palm, and you can feel its pulse when you wrap your hand around its girth.

Jimin looks down and exhales a soft sigh as you begin to stroke the length of his cock. It begins with a gentle stroke, moving up and down slowly until you can feel the first shudder running through his body. “What’s the rush? We have enough time, don’t we? We can take it slow,” Jimin calmly says, acting as if he is completely unaffected when you can clearly see him doing his best to keep it together and slowly failing, judging from the way his fingers are pressing a bit harder into your skin.

“I’m not the one who has a morning schedule today,” you tease him with a scoff, reminding him that he is the one who has been skipping his responsibilities while dealing with the pregnancy tests. Jimin merely chuckles, yet you can feel his hand moving slowly towards your center, and your heartbeat begins to race when he comes closer towards where the pulses are rising between your legs. And he keeps moving closer, until the tips of his fingers come brushing gently against your folds, making you jump at his touch before you quickly relax.

“I guess we can make an exception this morning,” he whispers, his voice sounding a bit rough when he finds you growing wet under his touch. He reaches down and wraps his hand over yours, guiding you to help align the head of his cock onto your slit. Gently, he slips his cock between your cleft and begins to stroke the tip up and down your slit. The sounds of your slickness can be heard the more he moves, as he gathers more and more of your arousal to coat his veiny girth and help him move more fluidly between your hot folds.

You look down, seeing for yourself the way his cock is rubbing against you, and how both his skin and yours look wet, glistening under the dim lighting. You let go just as he begins to push forward, your hands rise up to his shoulders to hold on when you can feel the head of his cock pushing its way into you, slowly stretching you apart to let him in. The delightful pressure that you feel when he slides into you has you tightening your hold on him, your nails sinking into his skin as you revel in the soft trembles of your tight walls welcoming him in.

Jimin slowly sinks into you, doing it with small increments, as he pushes into you an inch before he pulls back, and then comes back in to push deeper. He keeps repeating it again and again, making his way in between your pulsing walls. The sensation that he brings to your body makes your head swirl a bit more intensely than before. All you can do is lean back and take it, relying on the firm press of his hand on the small of your back that is keeping you from falling backwards. Feeling him getting deeper and deeper, your mouth falls open with small noises coming out of your lips every time he pushes a bit harder. Just as the first moan escapes your lips, coming out a bit louder when he suddenly gives a firm thrust, he leans in, capturing your lips with a soft kiss to drown your voice while he takes a short break. He basks in this moment, relishing the warm snug that your walls are giving around him, while the pulses rising from your core seem to match the one coming out of his hard shaft.

The kiss lingers as he deepens it, moulding your lips together until you melt into him further. His hands move down to your thighs, subtly rising them up until you have your legs wrapped around his waist, giving him the perfect angle to start moving more easily. He pulls back just then, giving you a sweet smile before whispering, “Hold on tight, baby.”

With a light tug on your waist, Jimin pulls you towards him and somehow finds it possible to sink just a little bit further into you. The push that he gives draws a sharp cry out of you, though it sounds nothing like a cry of pain, only pleasure. It gives the right kind of push for Jimin to start moving, driving in and out of you steadily, igniting sparks of pleasure through your body with each thrust.

Soon enough, you start moving together with him, pushing to meet each and every one of his thrusts, encouraging him to do more and to start moving faster. His pace increases, and he just keeps on thrusting into you without fail. Lost in his own pleasure, his legs begin to quiver beneath him. His body almost comes bouncing off you each time you are joined, though he never fails to thrust back in again, and again, hitting all the right spots inside you that you almost never want it to end.

Keeping one arm around your waist to hold you in place, his other hand moves to touch your body. As if he cannot spend another minute not touching you. His palm finds your breast, fondling the mound lovingly the way he always would. He enjoys feeling the weight against his palm, and to feel your skin growing hot under his touch. Your body shudders when his fingers find your sensitive bud and start playing with it, and you simply let him. His touch feels so wonderful that it makes you arch more into his hand, and it adds to the amazing sensation that you are feeling from his lovemaking.

The pleasure within you continues to rise, and his speed picks up further. The tremble that comes with his moan gives away how close he is to his orgasm, and you clench around him right when you feel your own climax starting to form itself.

“More, Jimin. I’m close,” you whisper breathlessly as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as you take in every thrust, every pounding, and every pulse that he ignites within you until your muscles start to coil with your release.

Just as the first wave of your orgasm washes over you, your mind flies back to a moment passed merely minutes ago. Jimin’s face, the look that he wore after seeing the test result earlier, comes flashing in your mind, replacing the blissful and content look that you are seeing through your bleary eyes as he comes close to his release. Meanwhile, the emotions that you hadn’t completely understood when they first came to you are suddenly becoming clearer just as the waves of pleasure are growing stronger inside you.

As he embraces his climax, Jimin gives you one final thrust, pushing you towards your own. The sensation becomes too much, and there is nothing that you could do but let yourself fall into it, allowing the waves of pleasure to take over you.

But right in your plunge into heavenly bliss, there is an unsettling realisation that comes together with it, pushing through from the back of your mind. It sucks the air out of your chest in your cry of pleasure when you realise that beyond the lingering feeling of contentment and relief that you both shared upon seeing the test result, those emotions had been accompanied by something else. Something that felt more like shattered hope.

Despite having a strong faith that today would be an easy day for you, it didn’t take long before things turned completely the other way around.

The foundation that Mrs. Min built with your assistance has prospered well over the past year. The team that manages the foundation’s programs and its main timetable have grown exponentially, leading to its current success. You have been there to actively participate in helping to form the team from day one, leading them while you were working side by side with Mrs. Min in arranging all the charity works done under the foundation’s name. You have also been there to witness their wonderful growth and take pride in contributing your role in the achievements that the foundation has accomplished so far, even if you enjoy remaining in the background instead of stepping into the spotlight where Mrs. Min has been standing so proudly in from the start.

And yet, even when things have looked so promising for the people behind the foundation, as they seem to have gained a good rapport with the public and from the entertainment companies that they are closely acquainted with, it doesn't necessarily mean that everything has been running smoothly in the background.

The lunch meeting that you attended today had ended an hour ago, and yet you are still here, sitting in the guest lounge at the same hotel where the meeting was held. There is no denying that you feel completely drained, just from going through that meeting alone. All the pleasant feelings that you have acquired in the morning have long faded, replaced with exhaustion and stress.

Though the intensity of the meeting hadn’t truly happened without a reason.

There are still a few weeks to go before the holiday season, but the end of year charity events are already looming in the corner. With so many ideas being sent in by all the rich clients that Mrs. Min has been working with and from the volunteers who have been helping the foundation so far, with the additional change of having new people being added into the team, the lunch meeting had dragged on more than you had initially planned.

Thankfully, Mrs Min had been present to mediate the meeting. Her wise words had ended all the lengthy arguments that almost occurred between the team members who are more adept in the cause that the foundation has been organising so far and the new members who came in with fresh, yet extravagant ideas. Her role in the meeting was something that you were grateful for the most, since you weren’t able to do your role in the meeting as well as you would have wanted to when you couldn’t seem to fully focus and put your mind into it.

It was hard to be completely present in the meeting when your mind kept flying back to this morning, reminding you of the emotional turmoil that you had to deal with before the day even started. It didn’t matter how hard you had tried to ignore it, when moments from this morning kept on coming back when least expected, stealing your attention away from the present.

You could barely hide the sigh of relief when the meeting was over and you were able to step away from it, to finally be freed and have the chance to clear your head. Though your headache only got worse when your employer pulled you to the side before departing, giving you her signature coy smile when she whispered, “Just do your usual magic. I trust that everything will run smoothly under your capable hands,” hinting that she was placing all responsibilities on your shoulders once her job in keeping peace was done.

Guess I was right about the high level of stress messing up with my hormones, after all, you had wondered when the pounding in your head made you wish that you could curl up in a ball in the safety of your bed instead of being there, standing right in the eye of the incoming storm.

After everyone had left, you realised that you probably wouldn’t have made it to your next appointment if you have to travel across the city for it. Thankfully, the actress that you were supposed to meet up with had offered to come and see you instead of meeting you at the public restaurant that you had originally booked for this private meeting.

The option to stay and find a more secluded place to meet up, far from the public’s attention—as requested by this potential client of yours—seemed to be working in your favour, after all, once you realised that the space that you have chosen has been quite peaceful enough and far from the crowd. You also soon found that this spot had allowed you to have a moment to think and find some time to relax. Although, the downtime that you managed to get didn’t last long, when you couldn’t stop yourself from opening up your tablet again and trying to find something to do to waste time. That was how you ended up making yourself busy again, finishing up some work while you were waiting for your next appointment to arrive instead of using the time to take a much-needed break.

Between drafting emails related to your side gigs and texting Jimin’s new assistant, the past hour has occupied your mind enough to slowly help you forget about the previous lunch meeting and all the other troubling thoughts. Though it soon brings your mind back to another matter that you have tried to ignore the whole day.

While you have been busy with your own business, Jimin is back at his recording company to deal with his. And just like how it has been for the past month, his newest assistant, Minji, keeps you in the loop through texts and phone calls whenever you are not there with him in person. Sometimes she would only be sending you news and updates, things that are being said in meetings or any progress that Jimin is having at work. Other times, she would send you frantic texts as she encounters serious problems that would need to be dealt with immediately and which, more often than not, would usually require your assistance. This is apparently something that is still pretty common to happen when it comes to Jimin, no matter how much time has passed since Jimin turned his act around.

You don’t really mind getting involved in his business or having his assistants contact you for advice like this, since you have never truly stopped being involved in his work despite the agreement that you made with him.

Jimin may have grown way more bearable compared to how he used to be in the past, but it hadn’t stopped the constant rotation of personal assistants coming and going to work by his side. This had been going on for a while, all while you stood by, watching all of this happening until you were left with no other choice but to offer a helping hand. And he was once again feeling cornered, having no other choice but to give in when he realised that he needed your help.

Using your past experience as his personal assistant, you took the responsibility of finding him the right assistant and training them before they started working alongside your fiancé. It took a few trials and errors with different candidates of your choosing, with a couple of cases where Jimin practically ran them off until you finally found the right person to do the job. And that was how you found Minji nearly four months ago, and she still holds the record of working with Jimin the longest so far compared to her predecessors. While you may have been able to take some credit in making it happen, you still view her as a blessing from heaven for having the perseverance to work with Jimin, and at the same time, with you. Though you cannot help being reminded of yourself in the past whenever you see her.

Your success in pairing Jimin with his new skilful assistant didn’t go unnoticed by the people around you. It had opened up new chances, becoming a side gig for you to focus on aside from the foundation, and it had become one of the reasons behind the arrangement for this next meet-up you are having today.

It started with Jimin, and then Hoseok became your next client when you assisted him in choosing a personal assistant that he had always needed. And then, as the news spread, more and more requests started coming from other artists working under the same company as theirs. Before you knew it, it eventually grew to become one of your side gigs, as you began to work alongside and under the guidance of the recording company to help and connect their artists with the right personal assistants when their agents couldn’t do much to help.

Since then, this part of your work has slowly branched out, and you are beginning to take on other roles. From acting as a publicist yourself or a freelance agent for those who have no direct connection to one whenever needed, or a consultant for new assistants who needed guidance. But while today’s appointment is just another part of this side gig, it would be a new challenge for you to handle. And it should’ve been your main priority today as your main task of the day is done, but it is hard to put your mind into it when your mind continues to be occupied by something else entirely.

Minji: I’m not sure what’s going on, but he hasn’t been able to focus today

Minji: did something happen? He keeps spacing out. We’re in the studio with his producers to talk about the next recording schedule but he’s not paying much attention

Minji: don’t worry, I’m taking notes. I’ll email them to you once we’re done here

Minji: I’m sorry for bothering you so much, but the producers look a bit lost with how Jimin is acting

You put aside your tablet with a sigh as you read through a series of texts coming from Minji. These texts may not sound as frantic as they normally would when Jimin stresses her out, but it still makes you feel a bit tense and worried. You type a quick text to respond, hoping that you can help calm her down.

You: I’m not sure, but he’s probably just tired. We had a long morning today

Your face flushes with heat when you recall the heated moment you shared with him in the bathroom this morning, though you quickly shake it off before it starts to occupy your mind any further.

You: that’s a good idea. Send me all the details through email. I’ll go through everything and work things out with him tonight once he’s gotten enough rest

You put the phone away once you are done texting and close your eyes. But you quickly regret doing so. Because instead of finding calmness, everything that had become the reason why you have been so out of it the whole day returns to fill your thoughts.

Your skin no longer flushes with warmth and bashfulness as your mind flies back to this morning, when you start remembering all that happened then and Jimin’s face returns to your thoughts again. You never got the chance to figure out what was going on through his head or where the expression that you saw on him had come from, and you never got the chance to figure out what it was that had your heart sinking into your stomach once reality finally sunk in.  

Right after both of you had come down from the blissful high of your morning quickie, Jimin didn’t wait until every shiver and all the spasms of your climax started ebbing away before he carried you into the shower. Claiming that he wanted to take the responsibility of making you dirty again, he started helping you bathe, though the good intention that he claimed to have was quick to turn into something naughty the moment his hands returned to your body, and what happened next ended up taking your mind away from every thought and doubt you had.

All doubts and unanswered questions were left forgotten once bliss took over, and Jimin had done an awfully good job in taking your mind away from them with his expert hands, as he took good care of you while stealing your breath away at the same time. But it certainly didn’t mean that the thoughts simply vanished. They were merely pushed to the back of your mind, lingering silently and making you feel restless the entire day without you realising the real reason why until moments like this one comes—a moment where there is nothing accompanying you but silence, allowing your wayward thoughts to grow louder.

Acknowledging this, it only makes you wonder if Jimin is having the same problem, that whatever it was that had crossed his mind this morning and was hidden from you has been bothering him the whole day.

But what did go through his mind this morning, you cannot help but wonder. Had the thought of us having a baby so soon really bothered him so much that it’s still troubling him even now? And why is it making me so restless?

Deep in your own thoughts, you almost fail to notice a new presence arriving at your hidden corner. You nearly jump out of your seat when a gentle voice breaks you out of your stupor.

“Hello, I’m sorry for making you wait for so long.”

You turn at the voice, only to immediately rise from your seat when you realise that your guest has arrived. It seems that she had been rushing on her way here, but her composure remains intact when she speaks.

Wearing a simple dress and a short winter jacket on top, Hyorin still looks as charming as you have always remembered her. The older actress had been absent from the scene for the past couple of years due to her marriage and then later, the birth of her daughter only six months ago, so it was quite a surprise when she suddenly contacted you through her assistant, Yerin, who is also a close friend of yours from the business, and requested for a meet-up.

“Hello, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you coming,” you simply say to her, welcoming her with a smile. You are about to offer her to take the seat in front of you when you realise that she has not arrived here on her own. Your eyes fall on the baby stroller that she is pushing with her, and your heart jumps for a brief moment once you get a clear sight of the adorable baby lying half-asleep inside.

Looking at her makes you stop, until you recall the conversation that you had with Yerin about this meet-up and remember the request that Hyorin has made through your friend, and realise that you probably shouldn’t be too surprised to have the baby involved in today’s meeting.

You just weren’t expecting to meet her baby this soon.

“I didn’t know that you were bringing your daughter. I would’ve picked another place that would have been more comfortable for the three of us if I had known.”

Hyorin smiles and merely waves it off. “Oh, don’t worry about it. This place is quite perfect. The restaurant would have been a bit too crowded and uncomfortable for her, but she would be able to adjust better as long as the place is quiet and there are not many people going around,” Hyorin says as she takes a quick look around. To your relief, she really does seem genuinely happy with the meeting spot that you have chosen. The lounge itself serves the privacy that you would need to have this conversation, while the spot you have chosen is slightly hidden even from the hallway outside of the area where people would be roaming around, offering not only the privacy needed, but also the perfect solitude for the baby to rest without any worries.

By the time Hyorin turns her attention back to you, she is pleasantly surprised to see you still entranced at the sight of her baby girl. She must have read your expression as something that is quite a kin to a shock, because she quickly apologises and explains, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t exactly planning to take her out with me today, but the babysitter called in sick at the last minute and she’s still too little to be handed to other people I don’t trust. I hope it’s okay she’s joining us today. I know that this isn’t what we had planned.”

Surely, that was not the original plan, but you refuse to let it deter you. So you simply wave your hand at her to brush it off. “It’s fine. She is the main star, after all. Isn’t she the reason why you wanted to see me today?”

The actress looks visibly relieved hearing this. She no longer appears so concerned or tense by the time she takes the seat that you offer. Sitting right across from you, Hyorin positions the stroller next to her, with the baby facing your way. The sweet baby steals your attention for a brief moment before the actress begins to talk about the reason why she is meeting you here. “I suppose that Yerin had told you everything that I needed.”

Nodding, you recall the phone call that you received from your friend before the actress finally made contact with you herself. The actress had only given birth to her baby daughter one month before recruiting Yerin to be her personal assistant. Even before that happened, she has always been keeping everything happening in her life ever since she got married completely private. She even barely showed up in public with her husband unless she was needed to be by his side, and she had completely stepped out of the spotlight before anyone even knew that she was pregnant.

Until the news of her baby being born was leaked to the public.

It was surprising for both Yerin and her publicist when she finally agreed to go public with her baby, though she only wanted it to happen under the condition that the announcement and the reveal will be done on her accord. That was when Yerin recommended you to get involved, with the agreement from the actress’ publicist who had known about your past work with Jimin.

“She has. Although, I’m not sure why you are choosing me to work this out with you. You could’ve had Yerin handle everything for you. Not only because she’s your personal assistant, but also because from the years I’ve known and worked with her, I know that Yerin is capable enough to handle this job.”

Hyorin shakes her head gently. “I’ve talked to Yerin about it, but she told me that if there’s anyone who can manage to arrange this as quickly and swiftly as possible then it would be you. I need someone who can make sure that not a single word gets out and nothing crucial gets leaked into the public until it’s time for it to come out, and while Yerin told me that she would be able to do it, she wasn’t sure if she could handle it if any leak still happens,” she firmly says, and admittedly, you understand where she is coming from.

You have seen it happening before, where an inside source becomes the reason that rumours or private information about any celebrity or public figure were able to get out and reach the media. The same thing happened to Jimin once, and you were quick to handle things and let the rumours die down with his publicist’s help. Knowing the fact that Hyorin had fired and changed her assistant and a few members of her team immediately after the news of her childbirth came out, you can only speculate that the rumours had been leaked by someone from her inner circle. And for that reason, you cannot really blame her for being more careful this time.

“Yerin convinced me that you’re the best when it comes to handling matters involving public relations and the media. I value Yerin’s opinion, which is why I took her advice and contacted you directly for help. My publicist has been a good help, but even she had given approval on Yerin’s recommendation, which made me believe that I can truly count on you.”

Hearing this, you slowly lean back in your seat. There is a sense of pride that you feel from hearing such affirmation coming from someone like her, but you cannot deny that there is also an underlying concern for taking such a huge responsibility. As you take your time pondering this, you recall all the years you have spent handling Jimin’s PR cases. The moment that you begin to realise that you know exactly what to do, learning from your past experience, you begin to have more faith in yourself, believing that you can take this challenge as long as you do all the right things and have all the right people to work with.

“I won’t say that I’m the best in the field. I’m just lucky enough to have learned the tricks,” you finally tell her once you have your mind made up, and Hyorin looks a bit more relieved to hear it. Your gaze falls on the little girl in the stroller who is making a soft fussy noise, indicating that she is slowly waking up. Seeing her move about, there is something blooming in your chest.

Looking at the baby girl, you are surprised to find how you are getting so enamoured by her presence. It feels like you are completely drawn to her, so much so that you want to reach out and touch her to know if she is real. Snapping out of it, you turn to the mother, sharing your concern, something that comes across your mind all so suddenly. It puts a heavy weight in your chest for thinking how this poor girl would be exposed to the spotlight so soon in life. “Are you sure you want to go public with your baby daughter? Her photo will be out there for the world to see once you do this.”

Hyorin looks over to her child with a worried smile. It seems like she understands what you are trying to ask of her. Perhaps she also shares the same concern, which is evident from the way she leans to her baby daughter and carefully starts tucking the blankets around her tiny little body as if she wants to protect her from the world. The gentle moment you are witnessing only escalates the tightness in your chest. The heavy weight now feels warm, though you are also beginning to feel something else brewing inside, something that you cannot put into simple words.

“A lot of people from the media have been hounding me to give them the rights to publish her photos. I even got paparazzi stalking me to steal a chance to take her pictures when I’m out of the house and have her with me,” she says, sighing softly in defeat before turning to you again. “I’ve talked about this with my husband, and we both decided that if we want to go public with her, then it has to be on my term. Since I’m going to start taking new offers again maybe after next year—or once she’s old enough to be handled by a sitter, at least—I would be appearing in public more often soon. That’s why I figured it would be the right time to do this. She might draw more attention once I’m back to work again, so I’d rather let it happen now than later when I can’t be sure that she will be safe. Besides, isn’t it common for people to lose interest once their curiosity is answered?”

“I really like that idea,” you tell her after thinking deeply about what she said. You do remember seeing random rumours fading into the shadows once the public’s curiosity is answered, and there is some faith inside you—although small—to believe that this would work. “And I was also informed that you’ve chosen the photographer to take her pictures?”

Hyorin looks pleased. “Yes, he’s the one who has been taking my photos since I first debuted. I’ve chosen the person to do the interview as well. I just need your help to contact them and arrange everything while keeping it under wraps. Yerin reassured me that you are the one who I can trust to make this all possible since you know how to work without gaining too much attention.”

“That would only be one of my expertise, if you can say that,” you respond to her with pure confidence. It does seem like all the years of practice with Jimin and sneaking around the media’s eyes would finally pay off. “I’ll see what I can do for you,” you begin to reaffirm her, before quickly stopping yourself. “No, let me rephrase that. I’ll make it happen. Don’t you worry.”

Hearing your promise, Hyorin releases a deep sigh of relief and begins to thank you for taking this job to help her. Meanwhile, seeing the positive reaction she is giving you makes you feel even more excited to start working immediately. You open your tablet and dive straight into action, starting from gaining more information on the team that she already has. “I would like to also talk to your publicist about the plans and arrange a schedule. It would be best if I have someone from your team that I can work alongside with and help guide me through your schedules.”

Soon, the conversation shifts into more than simple business talk. Accompanied by the warm tea and some snacks that you had ordered from the staff, the two of you begin working on the necessary planning, while you gather more information and contact from the people in her team that you consider would be beneficial and helpful for the entire publicity work.

Unlike what you felt earlier from the meeting with the foundation, you find yourself back in your element. It feels like you are diving back into familiar territory and you feel like a fish returning into the flowing water, roaming free without any worry because you know where to go and what exactly to do. It takes no time before both you and Hyorin develop a long list of tasks to work on and a proper timeline to make it all happen. You have even gotten a chance to call her manager and publicist to have her schedules handed to you before you can start contacting all the other parties involved.

The moment all the work talk is done, you remain seated in the lounge with Hyorin and her baby. The conversation then shifts once again into a more relaxed and friendly chatter as you talk about mundane things and exchange life stories as if the two of you are old friends. Hyorin had just ordered another hot drink when her baby starts fussing. She takes a moment to calm her daughter down, then she catches you by surprise when she offers you to hold the baby for a moment.

“A-are you sure?” you question her, feeling unsure, though it doesn’t stop Hyorin from handing over the baby or for you to take her in your arms so easily as if you have been ready for it.

“I trust you. And she seems curious about you, so why not?” she says as she helps you settle her baby in your arms until both of you feel comfortable. Seeing that the baby did try to reach out to you with her grabby hands even before Hyorin made her offer, you cannot find it in you to refuse.  “I want her to get used to being around people too. Maybe that would help before D-day when she would be surrounded by unfamiliar people on the day of the photoshoot.”

Hyorin’s words barely register in your mind when you have your attention solely on the delicate thing you are holding. She looked so small while she was lying in her stroller, yet she feels so light and seems so fragile that you are almost too afraid to move. But the moment her eyes flutter open and your gazes meet each other, something inside you seems to snap.

Or, more like, unsnap, when your stress seems to be lifted off your shoulders just by carrying her weight in your arms, and when her eyes grow slightly bigger when she sees your face, as if she is struggling to understand why this complete stranger is holding her instead of her mother. But when the sight of fear that you are expecting to see through her eyes never shows, you slowly begin to feel it building within you instead. Though there is another emotion boiling inside your chest, a sense of melancholy and longing that suddenly makes you wonder—

“They said that babies can heal your soul. I never believed it until the first time I held her in my arms and felt like I was whole again,” Hyorin muses softly as she looks fondly at you holding her baby with such gentleness that you never once thought you would ever have. “How about you? Have you and Jimin made any plans to build your own family?”

And with that, the uneasiness that you have managed to brush off while you were talking with Hyorin returns to you like a tidal wave. Jimin’s odd expression and the cold feeling you had in your chest take over the space in your head that they almost take away the feeling of warmth and comfort that has been blooming within.

“We still have a long way to go before we would have to worry about something like this again,” Jimin’s words start echoing inside your head right at that moment. His face comes into your mind just as everything that you had talked about with Hyorin comes flashing back.

Suddenly, instead of picturing Hyorin going through everything that you have been planning together with her, you see yourself in her shoes. From playing hide and seek with the media and finding out ways to properly share your little one with the world. Knowing your place, and how prominent Jimin is in the world that he has built for himself, all of these things would be something that both of you would be ready to deal with.

Is that why he seemed so troubled about this?

Keeping your eyes on the baby, you try your best not to dwell on these wanton thoughts too much and focus on the present. On the little child who is watching you curiously, as if she is capable of reading your thoughts while you are working on hiding it from her mother.

“I, uh…we haven’t really discussed it yet,” you find yourself answering Hyorin, despite not knowing what to say. “I’ve seen Jimin with children before, and I can tell you that he absolutely adores them,” you say this while looking up at Hyorin with a smile, just as you think about past events where Jimin had to work with children or whenever he encountered them in the past.

“He may have hinted about wanting to have his own kids, but he always says that he would love it even more when those children belong to someone else so he could be the fun uncle,” you joke with her, making her laugh, leaving out the fact that you were simply referring to his past comments about the troubles he might have from having kids. Then you look down again just as the baby shifts in your arms, and seeing her makes you want to voice out your personal dilemma, “I personally have never really given it a thought before, since I’ve always been so focused on my career.”

Just as you say this, something just clicks in your mind. Suddenly, everything makes perfect sense, though you are still too afraid to put your thoughts into words.

“I was just the same before. I’ve always loved children, but never really thought about having my own, or even planned to, since I loved my freedom and I still enjoyed my bustling life where I only had to focus on working and building my career,” Hyorin says. There is a faraway look in her eyes as she reminisces about her younger self, and that look slowly evolves into something that is filled with love and endearment as she glances at her baby daughter. “But I suppose that people’s priorities and views can change depending on where life is taking them to, don’t you think?”

“Yeah—” you mutter softly, understanding completely what she means. You find yourself smiling as you look down at the baby in your arms. She has her eyes open, her tiny lips forming a small smile before she starts giggling and cooing at you, and you begin to feel something inside you shift.

“Yeah, you’re absolutely right. People do change,” you slowly add, and just like that, the fog that has been shielding your true desire is lifted, and you can finally understand the reason why you have been feeling so uneasy ever since the idea of you and Jimin having a baby together started to take root inside your head, and why Jimin’s reaction has been haunting you.

From that moment on, something does change inside you. The uncertainty is slowly shifting, and you find yourself longing to have this warmth blooming inside your chest to last for a lifetime.

You have never done anything like this before.

And yet, you enjoy the thrill that is growing in your chest as you lock lips with Jimin, allowing him to swallow the soft moans that you keep making. You cannot really help making these sounds, when the sensation you are feeling is starting to take control over your body. It builds up like a ripple, calmly spreading from your core to your whole body, before growing more intense with each passing time and with each ministration that you are making against Jimin’s body.

“God, you’re so hot,” Jimin groans against your lips, his hands digging deeper into your hips while causing your skirt to hike further up as you keep rocking your hips on Jimin’s lap. You press down harder, grinding your covered center over his thigh until the ripples of pleasure rise into waves, causing you to tremble on his lap.

You pull away from the kiss with a gasp, while Jimin trails his kisses lower, moving down your chin, to your neck, adding a couple of light bites when his lips come pressing against your pulse. Your hands, which have been clutching desperately onto his shoulders, begin to move down. One palm rests against his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat under your fingers, while you reach down between your rocking bodies with the other hand, finding the hard bulge forming from under his pants which had pulled your attention after repeatedly brushing against it while you are grinding against his hard thigh.

“I want you, Jimin,” you mutter softly with a gasp just as your palm lands over his covered cock. It has grown hard since the moment you started riding him, yet it almost feels like it stiffens further under your touch. You gently rub your palm over it, causing Jimin to groan against your neck, and the moment you feel it pulsing at your touch, the ripples of pleasure that you are feeling shift into another. “Please, Jimin. I won’t make it if we have to wait until we’re home.”

With a groan, Jimin releases your neck and pulls away. “Fuck, I know. Hang on a minute, baby,” he says with a soft growl coming out of his lips. Keeping one arm around your waist to stop you from falling over, he reaches down with the other to unzip his pants. Even with his movement being constricted under your weight and your bodies are pressed together, he still makes it work.

Within a blink of an eye, his pants are unzipped and pulled down to his hips. His hands return to your waist soon after, guiding you to straddle over his crotch before he slips a hand between your legs and gently swipes your panties aside. His fingers find your nether lips, all slick and wet from your arousal. He rubs his fingers across your folds, slowly parting them as he continues, then slides his digits in to find your pulsing entrance. You feel him exploring your heat, using your essence as he pushes his fingers into your pussy.

Biting your lips, you stifle the sound of your moan that is threatening to come out as he moves his fingers in and out of you. He keeps it gentle, making sure not to push too deep but just enough to prepare you for him.

“You’re so wet, baby. Are you sure you want to do this here?” he asks, while you can only nod frantically.  Reaching down, you wrap your hand around his hard-on, drawing a soft moan from him. You give him a couple of gentle strokes, making him quiver beneath you. Your action is enough to give him the answer that he needed from you, so Jimin carefully lifts you up on his lap only to help align your position right on top of his waiting cock. His eyes are on you the whole time, watching you with eyes full of love and lust as you slowly lower yourself onto his erection, gritting your teeth when his cock penetrates you in the most delightful way possible, just the way you wanted him to.

"Oh fuck!" Jimin gives out a long, deep groan of pleasure as you gradually impale yourself on his cock, your muscles pulsing as his girth spreads you open on your way down, milking his cock as you slowly slide yourself up and down on his shaft.

Jimin presses his lips on your neck once more, breathing you in while muffling the sound of his moans that comes from the sensation rolling through his body from having his cock bury itself in your warmth. Once he is inside you, and you are settled nicely on his lap, he kisses your skin and whispers, “Just make sure not to get too loud.”

You swallow down a whimper before answering him, “I’ll do my best, baby. Anything, just—oh, God!”

Your words shift into a light shriek when he suddenly bucks his hips upward, pushing his cock deeper inside you. The pressure feels so sudden that it is almost painful, yet the rush that it brings feels so good it rocks your entire body with that one firm push. Noticing your cries, Jimin pulls you down to him and presses his lips on yours. He kisses you deeply, swallowing your gasps and moans while he rocks his hips, pounding his cock into you with sloppy thrusts. He doesn’t rush right away, taking his time to relish the pleasure that is growing inside him.

Just when your body is adjusting to him, growing more comfortable to move on top of him without shaking too much, Jimin slows down.

“What’s going on, baby?” Jimin breathlessly asks you as he pulls away from the kiss. His hands remain on your hips, holding you up on his lap and stopping you from falling as you lean back from him.

You can barely control your own breathing when you question him in return, “What—? What do you mean?”

Jimin shakes his head, and you take this moment to lean back in, kissing the nape of his lips to tease him, coaxing him to continue. “You are—insatiable,” he moans. “You have been for the past couple of weeks. I don’t mind it, but I’m getting curious to know why.” Instead of answering him, you only roll your hips on him, pushing down on his length to get him deeper, and his words fade into a soft moan. He doesn’t make a move to stop you, enjoying the way you are sliding up and down his cock too much to make it stop, but he puts his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you back so he can look at your face. “You never agreed to my ideas of getting frisky while I’m working or to do these things in an open place like this before.”

Hearing this, you almost falter in your movements, albeit it does make you stop for a brief second before you continue again. Your body reacts first before your words ever make it out of your lips, with the lower part of your abdomen pulsing slightly and your muscles clenching around him as your mind drifts back to a moment from one hour ago. Back to the moment you made a quick check on your calendar, and then rushing to see him before you could stop yourself. You told yourself that finding out that you are beginning to enter your ovulation period had nothing to do with it. You convinced yourself that you had simply missed your fiancé and seeing how enticing he looked while he was so deep in his work snapped something inside of you that you immediately pounced at him. But now, when you feel him buried deep inside you, his girth pressing against your pulsing walls and your stomach coiling with pleasure, you are no longer quite sure what has driven you to this.

“I’m not sure. I guess I’m just in the mood for it,” you simply say to your lover, shrugging it off while putting your rapid thoughts aside at the same time. Closing your eyes, you focus on rocking your hips, riding his cock until the pleasure numbs everything else. “Maybe it’s stress?” you add with a moan, enjoying the waves of sensation that keep building up. Burying your nails into his shoulders, you start moving faster, eager to find your blinding climax. “And you’ve always had an amazing way of helping me destress.”

Jimin softly chuckles, not even trying to deny how right your words are. “You know that I’m always happy to oblige,” he says, as he runs his hands up beneath your skirt, finding your hips. He gives you a tight grip, slowly taking back control as he starts guiding you to follow his pace while he continues to speak. “And I won’t lie, I’ve always thought about how hot it would be to have sex in a place like this, where I’m supposed to be working—” he adds, and he slowly shifts on his seat, finding the perfect angle which would allow him to move better before he starts rocking on his seat, thrusting up just when you come down. The sound of his moans echoes through the room that you almost miss his next words, “—and dealing with the risk of getting caught.”

Your eyes flutter open when he gives you a hard thrust, making you gasp when it rocks your entire body starting from the core. Moaning at the pleasure erupting inside you, your words almost fail to come out when you tease him, “Then maybe I should warn you that I completely forgot to lock your studio when I came in.”

Jimin’s gaze flickers from the door to you, never once missing his pace as he does so. With a sly grin, Jimin bucks his hips upward with a strong force, and he begins thrusting his cock harder into you at a rapid pace while groaning deeply, “Oh, fuck. You’re so naughty, baby. I really love seeing this side of you.”

His words barely register in your mind as you embrace the pleasure that keeps building inside you. But then you start feeling a tug at your top, coaxing you to open your eyes just to see his hand trying to pull it apart. Realising what he is up to, and how close he is to ripping your favourite blouse to give him more access, you hurriedly pull back and start unbuttoning it for him.

Jimin opens his eyes wider once you are done, hungrily taking in the sight of the expensive lacy bra that you are wearing underneath. “Damn, baby,” he murmurs, completely mesmerised by what he is seeing. This time, you are not fast enough, and his hands reach up, pushing the piece of lingerie down and grabbing greedily at your now exposed breasts. As you start bouncing on his lap, Jimin gropes at your shaking breasts, squeezing and kneading excitedly before he buries his face in your cleavage and starts sucking hungrily on your nipples.

You continue to ride him, your hips undulating lithely over his crotch as you slide up and down his cock. Starting to feel so good, you can barely keep your voice down while Jimin keeps groaning blissfully against your skin while mauling at your breasts, going from one to the other as if he is having a feast.

It wouldn’t be long before you can feel it coming, right about the same time Jimin starts cursing and arching his own chest, his cock convulsing intensely inside you as you freely embrace your orgasm. Nothing can stop it from coming into you so quickly. Perhaps your body is a little more sensitive than normal, due to the circumstances, or maybe being reminded of all the chances that anyone from the recording studio might come in and catch you at the height of your wanton pleasure is pushing you over the edge.

With a gasping moan, you succumb to it, the waves of your orgasm rocking your body in a delightful bliss, and your muscles clench tightly around him, sucking him until he is pushed right into his climax. For once, you can feel everything, as if your senses are heightened. The warmth of his release filling you up makes you tremble on his lap. Each twitch and pulse coming from his cock keep triggering the small spasms of your climax, giving you small orgasms while he keeps himself buried inside you. His arms holding you up to his chest feel a bit warmer than usual that you simply melt into his embrace.

It takes a moment before you finally come down from the height of your climax. Once it happens, silence falls, yet neither of you makes a move. He keeps his arms around you as you both take a moment to breathe and find your bearings, to give a chance for the remaining waves of your climax to wane down.

Sighing in contentment, Jimin kisses the top of your head before asking, “Did you get what you came here for?”

“Close enough,” you answer with a chuckle. Pulling away from him, you take a long, deep breath as you straighten up on his lap and take a deep look into his eyes. “Sorry to interrupt you at work.”

“I don’t mind. Not at all,” Jimin says, grinning, most likely not even feeling sorry that you had been so daring enough to start this. “If you say ‘close’, does that mean I’m not doing a good enough job to satisfy you?”

“Oh, you did good. Way better than expected, actually,” you tell him with a content sigh, smiling as you lean down to kiss his lips and whisper, “I’m just saying that I won’t mind going on round two once we get home.”

“Oh, take a look at this, honey. Isn’t this beautiful?”

You must have been spacing out when Jimin’s mother suddenly speaks up, her voice startling you so that you nearly spill your tea. You look up to see the soft-spoken woman sliding your tablet towards Jimin, showing her son the pictures displaying flowers and seating arrangements on various wedding ceremonies that you and his mother had compiled together from the internet.

The three of you are sitting together in a small restaurant not too far from his family’s home, enjoying lunch at the small round table facing the back garden that is quite hidden from the other patrons. The lunch date wasn’t planned, and you certainly were not planning to start any conversation regarding the future wedding when you first accepted your future mother-in-law’s invitation to meet her today. But at some point near the end of the meal, the wedding was brought up between sharing life updates and work-related chats which accompanied the sweet dessert that was served on the table, and Jimin’s mom started opening some image references through your tablet—which had been so conveniently placed on top of the table after Jimin used it to show her some of his upcoming works.

Jimin takes a quick look at the pictures on the tablet and groans, feigning annoyance at having to choose, though the small smile that he is trying so hard to hide is giving away his true feelings. You know that he is happy to know how excited his mother is about the upcoming wedding ceremony, even if neither of you had yet to set an actual date for it. “Why are you showing me these, Mom? I know nothing about flower arrangements. Show it to ______,” Jimin whines at his mother while giving you a quick glance. This time, he is no longer hiding his smile when he adds, “She’s the one who gets to decide everything about the ceremony.”

His comment earns a light smack on his arm, a gift from his mother. “It’s your wedding too! You need to tell us what you’d prefer so everyone would get what they want and be happy,” she complains. “Besides, I already know what ______ wants,” she adds as she grabs the tablet back from Jimin’s hands. “We’ve been sending each other these photos. She made me a—what do you call it—Pinterest?”

Smiling, you nod at her before boasting to Jimin. “Yes, I made us an album on Pinterest so your Mom and I can send each other ideas.”

Looking pleased, Jimin takes your hand in his and kisses it. “Who would have thought that both of you would be having fun planning out this thing,” he says with a chuckle, though it does make you happy just seeing him this way. “Just choose whatever you want for the wedding, I’ll make sure to make it happen.”

His gentle way of showing affection warms your heart, though it doesn’t seem to give the same effect on Jimin’s mother when you hear her scoffing from your other side. “Ooh, listen to him acting so cool,” she taunts him, causing both you and Jimin to laugh as he pulls away. “He used to be so embarrassed to show any affection even to us, his parents, and now look at him.”

Jimin rolls his eyes and laughs softly as he leans back in his seat. “I think both you and I have to agree that ______ deserves to be treated special.” He glances at you teasingly as he says this, causing your face to grow warm, but there is really nothing that you could say in return when his mother wholeheartedly expresses her agreement.

“Oh, I completely agree,” she says, smiling softly when you turn to her. “Both myself and Jimin’s father feel truly indebted to you. We’ve witnessed how much you have helped Jimin over the years, and you guided him to turn his life around—”

“Oh, but that’s all—”

Jimin’s mother cuts you off with a smile and takes your hand. “And we’re also thankful for all those wonderful gifts you helped Jimin get for us over the years you worked with him,” she adds with a wink, while her compliments make you feel shy. Glancing at Jimin sitting by your side, you find him smiling bashfully too. Guess he hasn’t been so subtle about your help with the gifts, after all. “Thank you for taking care of Jimin for so long. It makes me happy knowing that you’ll be taking care of each other for many more years from now on.”

The conversation continues for a while longer, this time with Jimin showing more interest as he looks through the pictures, sometimes with a smile on his face when he stops to take a closer look at a couple of pictures that manage to catch his eyes. You barely pay attention to the pictures that he keeps swiping on the screen, until his mother takes over the device again and immediately gushes over the first set of pictures that appear after her first swipe.

“Oh, look! How cute is this? They have a little girl as their flower girl. Do you think it’s their daughter?”

You lean closer just as Jimin does the same so he could take a look at the pictures together, and your heart starts racing the moment you get a clear view of them. The first photos show a little girl, no older than three years old, wearing a white, fluffy dress as she walks down the aisle between all the smiling guests, the intricate arrangements of decor and flowers, while her tiny hands are busy trying to dump crumpled petals onto the ground as she walks. The next set of pictures shows the girl joining the bride and groom as the pair seem to read out their vows, before the groom picks her up in his arms, making it abundantly clear how much the flower girl seems to be a blended copy of both bride and groom, the girl’s loving parents.

The picture of the happy flower girl lingers in your mind for a while longer, staying there even after the lunch date is over. You can still see it in your head after coming home to the apartment that you now share with Jimin, repeatedly being reminded of her even when you are trying not to think about it. You had known that seeing that picture would do something to your head, yet you didn’t really expect that it would be affecting you this much.

The day is now over, and here you are, sitting alone on the bed while Jimin is taking his time in the shower. The sound of the running water isn’t doing much to silence your thoughts once they resurface. But being alone with your thoughts like this, it gives you a chance to finally delve deeper into them and take a good, closer look to find some answers. To find out why you have been so restless for the past couple of months.

But deep down, you know that the answers have always been there all along. You just have been in denial for so long that the voice of your own conscience is silenced. Not anymore, you bitterly realise, when you finally admit to yourself what it is that you truly want.

Is this what people usually call as baby fever?

You wonder about this with a sigh as you lean back against the bedrest. Looking up to the ceiling, you try to remember when exactly did this feeling begin to emerge in the first place and how it all started.

It all started from the job you took on with Hyorin, when you decided to assist her publicist and help guide her team regarding her public exposure of her new family. Meeting her child for the first time had been the moment when you first felt a deep affection like no other. You had first brushed it off, thinking that it had only been an emotion which came due to the fact that Hyorin’s baby was so adorable and easy to handle with that her presence helped eliminate your stress.

But then the photoshoot happened, and that feeling only grew stronger once you were reunited with Hyorin and her child, forming rapidly into a desire that you couldn’t seem to shake off. The photoshoot was held only a month after your first meeting with the mother and daughter pair, yet the baby seemed to have grown so fast and had become more confident within the short amount of time that you weren’t seeing her. Her presence became a breath of fresh air at the photo studio then, and the longing you had for having the same bond and compassion as what Hyorin had with her child grew more intensely within you ever since.

No, it had started before then.

—you wonder as you begin to realise, recognising that same emotion appearing before your first encounter with the baby ever happened. You had felt that same longing growing inside you that morning when you stood by with Jimin, waiting for the result from the pregnancy tests. It was that longing that had kept bothering you since then, one that appeared from that one moment when you unwittingly pictured yourself and Jimin with a child while unconsciously wishing for the test result to show you a positive sign. You had tried to ignore that feeling, yet it lingered still, growing inside you until it bloomed to be this desire that has been so strongly holding you hostage with a vice grip.

And it was the same desire which had led you into a frenzy, turning you into an insatiable lover to Jimin almost effectively. It had led to numerous occasions where you initiated intimate moments at any given chance. Just like the day when you came to his studio for a quickie, or when you slipped into his changing room on the night of his live performance to get frisky right before he had to come out on stage.

Realising all of this gives you a sense of relief.

Relief of knowing that there is really nothing wrong with you at all. But you cannot deny that it also makes you feel terrified, which is the exact same reason why you have been denying this feeling for so long, and not without a reason.

For many years, ever since you first started entering adulthood, you had always been strict about making plans regarding your life. Starting from the years you spent in school—about the study that you wanted to focus on and how many years you were going to spend studying—to the period of time you started building your career, and the plans you made for yourself on how you would start building your family.

Jimin’s presence in your life had been the first thing that trampled all of your life plans. Just like how the thought of having a child of your own is beginning to make you want to forget all about planning and to simply dive right into it.

People talk about having baby fevers after meeting or seeing other people’s newborn babies, but never once had you ever thought to look deeper into it, or to ever suspect that you would experience anything like it yourself.

Never once had you ever expected to have these thoughts running through your mind. You have been so convinced that the idea or need would not even cross your mind until later, much later, only once a long period of time has passed after you hear the sound of the wedding bells. But here you are now, pondering, contemplating, even having a mental image of yourself with a smaller version of you or Jimin in your arms.

In the past, thinking about something like this would have bothered you. It would have sent you running to the hills, not out of fear, but out of the daunting feeling that tells you that you are not ready. That you wouldn’t be worthy enough to even consider it. But here you are now, feeling an unshakable deep sense of longing that you have no idea how to deal with. And you have only noticed now that this feeling has sunk its root so deep within you that you are feeling so strongly for it. You have never craved something so bad, that it is beginning to take control of your want and need. It has taken control of your main focus that it becomes the only thing you can think about no matter how much you have tried to push it so far to the back of your mind.

Sitting there with this realisation washing over you, you have also come to realise that there is really no point in fighting against it.

You want it. You want it so bad, and you can only silently hope that Jimin would want the same.

With your thoughts running havoc inside your head, you remain seated on the bed in the same position for quite some time. Still with your back pressed against the bedrest, your eyes looking far away at the ceiling and not at all noticing Jimin as he finally steps out of the bathroom.

He says nothing when he finds you. It makes him curious when he sees you like this, yet he waits for a blink of a moment before snapping you out of it with a gentle voice, “Is there something wrong, baby?”

You turn to look at Jimin as he walks closer to the bed. He had left the bathroom door slightly ajar behind him, allowing you to see a faint trail of mist coming from his hot shower following him. The mesmerising sight of him walking out of the mist, with nothing more but a piece of towel hanging around his waist to cover the lower part of his body, and with his hair and skin still slightly damp from his shower, makes your heart leap a beat. But you try your best to not let any of it—not even the inviting sight of his bare chest—make you lose focus.

Taking a deep breath, you muster the courage to speak. “Can we talk?”

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Normally, those words would make me run for the hills,” he jokes with a light chuckle. “Of course, we can.” Saying this, he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, facing you with a curious yet concerned look on his face. You don’t even question his lack of need to cover himself before joining you in bed. Not when you’ve learned through the period of time you have spent living with him that it is quite a normal occurrence with Jimin to be completely bare when sleeping with you. You do feel grateful that he is keeping his towel on—for now, at least—so you can remain calm and focused enough to be able to share your thoughts to him properly.

Though it doesn’t necessarily mean that you are capable of controlling your nerves.

Looking at his beautiful face, you try to think of ways to express your thoughts and feelings, not knowing how to get your message across without making him feel bad. In the end, the words just start running out of your mouth, “What do you think about a…a baby?”

Jimin looks surprised, obviously not expecting to hear such a question. For a moment, you feel a bit of hope when his eyes seem to lighten up. But it lasts only for a brief moment. Your stomach feels heavy the moment that light dims.

“Are you asking me if I would ever consider having one? Now?” his frown deepens, and his eyes flicker to your stomach curiously. “Are you—”

“If you’re asking if I’m already pregnant, the answer is no,” you quickly answer him, and his gaze clears out when he looks at your face again. You try not to see his expression as relief, knowing that it would only disappoint you if it is true. “I was just wondering—I know we haven’t talked much or planned forward aside from the wedding talk, and we’ve only talked briefly about maybe considering to talk about it only after the wedding, but I’m curious to know…do you want kids?”

With a sigh, Jimin answers carefully, “I’ve always wanted kids. Even though I know that I told you about not wanting them with my work being so busy and all, but the truth is, I just wasn’t ready then.” Hearing this, you are reminded again of his past comments. Everything that he had said about having children at the peak of his career—about how it would be a terrible idea or how he didn’t see himself as someone who could handle a child—and all the other comments that had given you the basic reasons to deny your feelings. “I know that you might not be thinking about it—”

“What makes you think that?” you quickly ask him, “Do you think I don’t want to have kids?”

Jimin’s brows crease yet again. “You just never told me you did, except for the time you said something about waiting until after the wedding day to talk about it. And I never brought it up again once I started thinking about it because I just thought—” he sighs. “I’ve already asked a lot from you ever since we started this relationship, so I didn’t think it would be fair if we talk about it before you’re ready.”

“What if I am ready for it?” you carefully ask him, “What if I’ve been ready?”

“What are you saying?”

Biting your lips, you silently decide that this might be the best chance to admit everything, now that he is answering all of your questions. “Remember that time when my period came late and you made me do the test?” Jimin nods at this, obviously remembering that moment, though he does seem a bit lost, still not knowing where this is going. “I’ve been thinking about it since then. A lot, actually.”

Jimin seems interested as he leans closer. “Go on,” he says, urging you to keep talking.

With a sigh, you finally admit to him in a small voice, “I think I’ve caught myself a major case of baby fever.”

“You have?” he asks, looking intrigued, and judging from the sly smirk that he is trying so hard to hide, he also seems to be excited to know more. “When did this happen?”

“It’s been happening for a while,” you answer him, still with a small voice but with less hesitation this time, before you start telling him everything. From the morning this feeling first emerged, the first time you began to picture having mini versions of you and Jimin, and then having that feeling grew stronger when you got involved with Hyorin and her child. Then you explain how it had possibly been the reason why you had been acting rather wantonly over the past couple of months, even while you were still in complete denial. And then you admit how you have remained in denial until the moment you saw the wedding pictures today—the beautiful pictures of the bride and groom and their happy little daughter becoming a part of their special event—when everything finally came crashing down on you.

“So—” Jimin starts to speak, finally putting two and two together. “All those times you suddenly turned up at work, giving me surprises whenever I come home, initiating things, all of that…all because you were craving for a baby?”

Groaning in defeat and shame, you cover your face with your hands and start grumbling under your breath, “I think I’ve been unconsciously trying to get pregnant. I’m so sorry.”

Jimin laughs and gently pulls your hands away from your face. “It’s fine, baby,” he says, looking more amused than you expected he would. “Thank you for being so open with me about it. But you’ve been taking your shots, haven’t you? Or did you stop taking it when it happened?”

You can feel your own blood getting drained from your face, suddenly realising just how bad things could’ve turned out and feeling guilty about what you have been doing.

How could you have been so reckless? What would’ve happened if you did get pregnant and Jimin wasn’t happy about it? You feel guilty for knowing that you could’ve jeopardised your entire lives and relationship because of it.

A sense of relief washes over you for knowing that at least your birth control is stopping all of that from happening. “Yeah, good thing the shot was still taking effect. Oh, God. I’m supposed to have another appointment already. What if I���m late to get it? I’m so sorry, I have no idea what I was thinking. I’ll make sure to call them up in the morning and not miss any until we have everything plan—”

“Unless—”

You stop when Jimin cuts you off, though he only confuses you further when he doesn’t continue. “What are you trying to say?”

Jimin smiles softly and shrugs. “Unless you change your mind about waiting until we’re married. That’s the reason why you wanted to talk about this with me now, isn’t it?” There is a glint of mirth and joy in his eyes when he says this, as if he can read through your mind. “Have you been thinking about the pictures we saw today? Do you want to have our own little ones be at our wedding? A mini version of you running down the aisle in her tutu dress while dumping flowers to the ground, or a mini me with his tux, waiting to hand out a ring after our vows? That’s what you’ve been thinking before I came back, wasn’t it?”

Him bringing this up only makes you teared up. “I—I want that,” you softly whine, before groaning, “Oh, Jimin. You’re making it worse. Now I want it so badly.”

With a soft chuckle, Jimin gently wipes a tear that slips down from your eyes. “You had doubts because you thought I wouldn’t want kids, did you?”

You nod. “Whenever I think about it, I’m always reminded of what you said and did then, about how much trouble kids would give you when you’re so busy with your schedules and tours,” you confess to him. “Even when I see how good you are with children, either with the children modelling with you or with your friends’ kids, I would keep remembering how we both agreed to only talk about having kids after we get married so I keep denying how much I want it.”

He gently shakes his head. “I know what we agreed about. But I have to admit that my view about having kids have started to change ever since I began picturing our lives together and about us building a family together.”

“You have?” you ask him, while he simply nods. “You never said anything, so I didn’t know what to think when I started thinking about it too.”

“Then—” he starts, slowly sliding closer on the bed to get next to you. “How about we talk about it now?”

“Okay,” you whisper to him as he wraps an arm around your shoulder and gently pulls you to his side. “What should we talk about? Where do we start?”

“First, we can hold back that birth control shot for a while, if you want to,” he says after mulling it over for a brief moment. “And then why don’t we just let things be? See how it turns out if we allow things to happen naturally.”

“Are you—are you sure about it?”

He shrugs. “I mean, we haven’t really set out a date for the wedding, so that gives us some time, doesn’t it? We don’t even know if it would happen so soon. But, at least we can do some practising until then,” he says, lowering his voice seductively and teasingly that it makes your face feel warm.

“I don’t mind having some practice.”

Hearing your bashful answer makes him smile. With a light touch, Jimin lifts your face by the chin and whispers, “I love you, baby. I don’t want you to feel like you need to hide things from me. You know that you can tell me anything, don’t you?”

Nodding, you look at him with a wry smile. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t that I wanted to purposely hide this from you. I guess I was just in denial about it. Until today,” you carefully admit, before slowly adding. “I love you too, Jimin. Thank you for allowing me to open up.”

He kisses your temple, and when he pulls away, the look in his eyes gives a tight pull inside your chest. His gaze is filled with love and affection when he looks at you. But there is something else there, appearing at the same time he runs his gaze down your face, to your body, before his eyes stop briefly on your lips.

As if he cannot help himself, Jimin leans closer and gives you a passionate kiss, his hand coming to your waist with a gentle caress over your nightshirt. Feeling the thin fabric covering your skin, Jimin lightly groans. “What did I say about wearing too many clothes to bed?” he complains, looking annoyed at your sleeping attire. He pulls it lightly, tugging on it until its hem starts rising up your legs and all the way up to your hips.

“Take this off,” he whispers, as he helps you pull it further up so that he could press his palm on your belly. “And for now on, now that we’ve talked about practising, I want you to forget ever wearing these things to bed.”

“Really?” You lift your eyebrows at him teasingly. “Not even those little pieces that you love so much?” you ask him while glancing over to the nearby drawers where you keep your negligees and lingeries that he has often bought for you, and he immediately knows what you are referring to.

Groaning deeply as he starts picturing you wearing them, Jimin immediately says, “Except for those tiny things. I’ll let you wear them from time to time. Now stop stalling and take this thing off.”

With a tug, he helps you peel the nightshirt off of your body. With a blink of an eye, he pulls it over your head and then it is gone, leaving you in nothing more than the cotton panties that you have been wearing. Looking down at you, Jimin looks pleased to see that you have at least decided not to wear your bra before climbing onto the bed.

Just like always, he immediately seems to be captivated by the sight of your bare breasts. His eyes are locked on your soft flesh, watching as they rise and fall in your steady breath. Then his hands come down on your exposed mounds, palms touching and kneading on them, starting from the under curves of your breasts before climbing their way up, finding the sensitive tips, making them grow hard with his touches. Using two of his fingers, he gives one nipple a pinch, while he playfully rubs a thumb over the other gently, drawing a myriad of sensations that cause you to arch your chest to feel more.

Claiming your lips once more, he kisses you with full of hunger, drawing your attention away from his hand as he reaches down between your legs and starts teasing your clit through the fabric of your panties.

“All that talk about having a baby with you—” he breathlessly whispers against your lips while pressing his fingers at your center while his other hand are still spreading warmth on your bosoms. “Now I can’t get it out of my head. You make me want to just give it to you now.”

His words put the same images into your head, drawing a soft gasp out of you. Immediately, you feel the sudden rush of desire coming back to life. The same one that had taken over you even before you found the courage to admit this baby fever of yours, now rising more intensely, taking over you so strongly that it almost makes you grow breathless.

“You did say something about practising, didn’t you?” you whisper with a raspy voice, already embracing the pulses of desire brewing under your skin. Reluctantly, you push Jimin away, forcing him to take his hands off of you when you shift on the bed. With a coy smile, you slowly peel your panties off of you, kicking them down your legs until you are completely bare. But instead of giving him a chance to return to you and touch you again, you flip onto your hands and knees, wiggling your hips to him teasingly before saying, “Come over here then, Daddy. Come put a baby in my belly.”

Your words seem to snap something within Jimin, as his gaze darkens after hearing you. Raking his gaze down your body, you can those pretty eyes of him filled with lust and hunger, and a dark desire that seems so intense that you can feel it on your skin, as if it turns into invisible fingers tracing down the curves of your body until his gaze rests on the area between your legs. Crawling towards you, Jimin kneels right behind you, positioning himself close enough to see everything but not enough to have his body touching you.

Just when you are about to look over your shoulder to see what he is doing, wondering why he isn’t making any move, the sound of a smack echoes through the room, before a sting of pain slowly grows right on your right bottom cheek.

Did he—did he just spank me?

Before you can find your answer, Jimin’s palm returns to your skin. Though instead of bringing more pain, he gently caresses the very same spot that he had laid his hand on earlier, as if trying to soothe the sting that faintly lingers. “Sorry, baby. I couldn’t help myself,” he says with a low voice, still while caressing your skin until you feel the pain subsiding. “It’s just that seeing you teasing me like that after our serious talk drove me crazy. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“It’s fine. I…I kinda liked it,” you shamelessly admit to him when you start feeling a new sensation building up once the pain and the shock is gone.

“You did, hmmm? Then how about making this fair?” he asks, right before you feel another slap on your bottom cheek, landing on the left side this time, making you gasp.

Once again, he soothes the pain with his gentle palm. Slowly, the pain starts ebbing away, and it almost seems like the blood pulsing at the spots where his palms had landed on are not only fading, but shifting into something more delectable, which is gathering at your center. The sensation only intensifies as Jimin continues kneading at your bottom, and you begin to feel your desire pulsing from within your core, even when he has yet to touch you there.

His touches grow more alluring, as he is no longer using his palms to soothe your pain, but to deliberately cause something else to rise in your body. As if he could feel it, perhaps from the way your hips are slowly swaying against his touch in return or from the way your breathing grows heavier, and he continues to repeat his touches, kneading and massaging and caressing lovingly that it is beginning to drive your head spinning.

Then suddenly, he bends down, pressing his lips right over your spine. To the sound of your gasps, he begins tracing kisses on your skin, down to your tailbone, and to the lovely curves of your buttocks. The sensation you feel building from his action leaves you gasping for breath, and he is not stopping, moving to find the spot where you still feel the phantom pain of his spanking and going around it, before moving to the other side to do the same. And then just when your body reacts on its own, with your hips moving backwards to chase his lips, he suddenly gives you a bite, right under your left bottom cheek where he had spanked you earlier.

You let out a squeal, not expecting to have him biting you there. But just like before, Jimin quickly replaces the pain with a soothing kiss. Except that this time, he traces his kisses from the painful spot all the way to the center, finding your throbbing pussy. He doesn’t give you any chance to process this when he starts eating your pussy, devouring you from behind with his hands holding firmly at the curves of your bottom.

The way his sinful lips are kissing your nether lips with pure desire, and his tongue slipping between your slit and pressing against your pulsing heat, all give you the kind of pleasure that feels so maddeningly good, you begin to lose the ability to hold up your weight. Still with your hips being held up by his strong hands, your upper body falls over to the bed as your body shakes with pleasure.

“Ah—Jimin!” you cry out for him, unable to hold back from the rush of pleasure he is igniting within you, though your voice is slightly muffled by the sheets beneath you. Seeking leverage, you clutch the sheets with your shaky hands, holding on as he continues to eat you, sucking your pussy with both lust and hunger that you can feel the faint ripples of your climax building inside you.

Jimin devours you for a moment longer before pulling away, stopping right as you are already at the brink of your orgasm. In the absence of his lips, he slips his fingers between your folds, gathering your slickness to use it to push his digits into your pussy.

Your fingers sink further into the sheets as his fingers slide through your hot walls, pressing against the pulses and gently spreading you open for him. He pushes all the way in until he has most of the length buried inside you before slowly pulling out, waking up the spasms of your pleasure, and he repeats it again, pushing in and pulling out at a slow, teasing pace until your body welcomes him fully. He continues fingering you, giving you a few more strokes before he finally comes to a halt.

A soft thud can be faintly heard beyond the sound of your heartbeat. You may not be able to see it, but through the back of your mind, you can only guess that Jimin has tossed away his towel. There is a shift on the bed when he moves closer. His hand returns to your hips to hold you up, while the other reaches out, grabbing a fistful of your hair and giving it a pull until you rise up.

“Pull yourself up, baby. That’s it. Hold on tight for me,” he whispers, gently pulling you back up by your hair until you are straightened up with your palms planted on the bed.

Jimin only lets you go to give himself a couple of strokes and align himself at your center. With his other hand, he presses down at your spine, holding you still. You wait with bated breath until the moment you feel a nudge at your wet opening. Jimin’s hand returns to your folds, spreading your nether lips apart just as you feel the head of his cock pushing through. He fondles your clit a little while the pressure of his penetration builds.

Inch by delicate inch he enters you, welcomed by the spasms of your desire and the wet sound of your slickness giving way for him to slide deeper. He thrusts, and pushes, pulling out briefly and then pushing in again, until your body gives way to his length and girth. And that is when he begins fucking, pushing and bucking his hips at a rapid pace, advancing even deeper with each thrust while giving you nothing more but intense pleasure.

Jimin’s cock is soon buried to the hilt in your tight walls, deliciously snugged between your warmth. The shudders that keep surging through his body pour themselves all over yours, centered from where your bodies are connected. His hands are tightly gripping your hips as he continues fucking you, adding more force into his thrusts now that your body is fully adjusted to his ruthless poundings.

“That’s it, baby. Take my cock!” you hear him grunting as he humps against your behind. Each hard thrust of his pelvis causes his hips to slap loudly against your round bottom while his cock keeps surging deeply inside your tight, clutching pussy. Each pounding he keeps giving you rocks your entire body that you cannot help but bury your fingers deeper into the sheets to hold on.

“Oh, Jimin!” you groan out his name through the intense waves of pleasure that are increasing from your core. Your body is getting shunted and shoved further against the mattress as your lover vigorously slams his hard shaft into you.

As Jimin’s thrusts grow more and more frantic, you can sense that he is almost ready to cum. “Oh fuck, yeah!” you hear him grunting under his breath, his hard erection keeps pistoning in and out of your hot cunt.

You brace yourself, both to feel his release and to embrace your own, but to your surprise, Jimin halts before the first shudder of his climax comes and pulls out of you, denying you of your release. It happens so suddenly that you feel as if your body loses its force, nearly toppling forward once more if not for the hard grip he has on your hips to stop you from planting face first onto the bed. Just as you are losing balance, Jimin pulls you up and swiftly flips your body around as if you are weightless.

“Oh!” you let out a squeal once your back lands on top of the mattress. Your heartbeat is still pacing rapidly, still in shock at how easily he is able to handle your body and weight. Kneeling between your legs, Jimin oozes power and dominance, yet you can still feel the gentle aura that he always carries with him when he runs his fingers from your hips, tracing down to your thighs where he gives another tight grip and lifts your legs up.

All the way up.

He doesn’t stop until your ankles are settled on his shoulders. Not only does this position put a strain on your body, it makes you lose any sense of control. Your muscles put up a restraint for a moment before you try to relax and let it happen, and that is when he pushes forward, bending over you until you are half-folded beneath him.

“Easy, baby. Breathe in and relax. Let me know if I’m hurting you,” he keeps whispering these words to soothe you while he keeps rubbing your legs. His touch travels back down to your hips just as you feel him nudging back at your folds, his stiff cock ready to return to your warmth. With his gaze locked on yours, Jimin grabs a tight hold on your hips and then pushes forward, entering your heat in one firm stroke.

“Oh, God!” you scream out as you feel the pressure knocking the air out of your chest. In this position, he feels like a tight fit inside you, your muscles seem to clench around him in a firm hold.

You can feel it affecting him when his body shudders on top of you. His chest feels tense against your palms when you reach up to hold onto his shoulders, yet his heartbeat thrums so rapidly that he seems to be shaking under your touch.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good around me,” he curses, taking a moment to breathe deeply while he begins pumping his hips and cock, setting up a pace while setting your whole body into a bundle of wildfire.

Your legs tremble as he pushes into you a few more inches, taking his time to enter you while relishing your pulsing warmth, until he impales you fully once more. You can feel him throbbing within you, each pulse coming from his girth coinciding with the pulses coming from your walls, as if his cock is responding to your body. But what catches your heart is the desire written on his face.

He pulls back again only to return with a hard thrust, pulling a gasp out of you. Instead of giving you a moment to breathe, he repeats the motion, delving not only just a few inches deep, but spearing deeply until you can feel the pressure deep inside your chest. And your body welcomes him, when you feel nothing but intense waves of pleasure.

“Feels different, doesn’t it?” he says between the deep moans he keeps making, while you can barely respond to him, unable to find the right words and too breathless to sound your voice.

“Uhh, so…deep,” you whine breathlessly as he thrusts deeply without a warning, hitting the spot that gives you a blinding pleasure.

Jimin forces his eyes open to look at you, rocking his hips firmly as he picks up his pace. “I’ve read some stuff when I have time. Some said that doing it this way will make sure that the seed will set inside your womb properly,” he says, groaning with pleasure between each word he speaks. “Not sure if it’s accurate, but it’s still worth a shot, don’t you think?” You open your mouth, yet your mind is too muddled to even think of an answer. Folded under his weight, there is really nothing that you can do but to take his pounding and give in at the sensation building within. Seeing this seems to please him, as a smile appears on his face when he leans in and whispers, “But I think I’m beginning to like this position more now.”

“You’ve been—ah! Looking things up before?” you gasp breathlessly.

“You have no idea how often I would picture you carrying our child. You would look so beautiful, so hot—fuck, I’m picturing you right now,” he confesses further, never missing his thrusts or losing his pace. Though it does feel like he is suddenly picking up his pace again, suddenly getting a bit rougher when he briefly closes his eyes, groaning, “Just thinking about it makes me go crazy.”

The tempo of his thrusts keeps building up, and the waves of your pleasure keep rising. It seems crazy to think that the thought of him getting you pregnant through this is making you feel hotter, and your body seems to grow even more sensitive the more he puts those images into your head. So much so that you can feel your body responding to him more excessively, that each pump of his cock feels so blindingly good, sending your body rocking harder and your toes curling with how intense all the pleasure coming to you feels through your body.

“Ha—ah, Jimin!” you cry out when there seems to be nothing stopping you from going over the edge. Right at the same time, you feel him bulging inside you, and his rapid thrusts seem to grow a bit clumsier, as if he is slowly losing his own self control.

“I’m going now—” he groans, fucking you harder, faster, filling the air around you with the sounds of his gruff moans, the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the shaking mattress, and the hoarse sounds of your cries of pleasure. The ripples that he ignites within you grow more intense, and he moans loudly when he feels it too. “That’s it, baby. Cum on my cock, baby. Cum right now and take all of my load.”

You can feel that he is getting close, yet still holding back to wait for you as he works your body so expertly. Releasing your hold on his shoulders, you reach up under your folded legs and start palming your own breasts, playing with yourself. With each knead, each pinch at your nubs, and the firm push of your soft flesh, you add the intensity of the sensation you are feeling from his rough lovemaking. You are already on the brink of your climax, and Jimin takes it even further when he slips a hand between your entwined bodies and finds your clit, giving it a light slap before pinching it, pushing you towards your blinding climax.

“Oh, oh, oh…! Jimin—” you cry out in your release. With nowhere else to go, you could only fist onto the sheets beneath you, holding on tightly as your entire body convulses. Your orgasm feels so intense that it draws a deep groan from Jimin, and he doesn’t let go, still thrusting steadily and keeping his pace as if he wants to make it last. But for some reason, you don’t feel any sign coming from him to chase his own end.

Your body continues to shake with your release, taking its sweet time to come down. Through your hazy eyes, you watch Jimin as he opens his eyes, looking as if he is enchanted and mesmerised by the sight of you embracing your climax. He reduces his pace and looks down on your body, not at where you are connected to each other but at your lower belly. Pulling his hand away from your clit, he presses his palm on your stomach, gently caressing it.

“Oh, baby. I really can’t stop thinking about it now that you’ve put the idea inside my head,” he murmurs, his voice fading in and out while you are trying to ease down from the spasms of your release, which is hard to do when he is still moving inside you. In and out he goes, steadily slow, dragging his girth along the length of your pussy walls to make you feel everything. “I can’t wait to see your stomach swell with our baby. I’m going to fuck you every night, fill you up until you are full with my cum, until we have our little one growing inside you.”

He continues talking, soft spoken words that sound almost like a spell. With each word he gives you, his pace begins to pick up again. As if his own spell had done something to himself. He somehow feels even harder, the width of his cock seems to swell further, making it feel tight when he pushes deeply with a forceful thrust.

“Jimin, please…!” you cry out his name with a voice so raw and dry and breathless. But every word that you want to give him fades, taken over by the pleasure as it rises like a tidal wave.

You close your eyes when the delightful pleasure overcomes you, and his words, the beautiful spell that he gave you earlier, take form inside your head. It snaps something out of you to picture yourself being pinned the same way as he fucks you into oblivion, all for the sake of putting a baby inside your womb. It makes you grow hot, your core coiling with another wave of orgasm, each spasm growing stronger from one to the next, and you are suddenly hanging at the precipice of your release with no return.

You scream again as he thrusts into you so deep, too deep, holding you there as he makes you take his entire length, to take all of his hard cock as it throbs and pumps roughly into you. He seems determined to make good of his words, as he doesn’t slow down a pace, only returning each cry and moans you give him with a hard, intense thrust.

“Jimin! I’m coming again!” you cry out once more, yet you feel your body rising, your hips welcoming his ministrations so openly like a needy, wild minx, all while being pinned helplessly beneath him with nowhere else to go.

“Baby…fuck!” he cries in return, as he bucks against you, and you feel the warmth of his release filling you up, drawing more and more spasms coming through your walls. He continues moving his hips, keeping the same sloppy pace to make it last. And then he ends it with one last final thrust, his cock pulsing inside you tightly, spurting the last of his seed to join the rest, completely filling you up just as he promised he would. You can feel his excessive cum flowing out of your cunt with each thrust he is giving you, coating his cock, down to your bottom, making a complete mess out of the two of you. Yet neither of you cares, when you both find your climaxes together, embracing it with your bodies shaking and rocking together as one.

It continues for a while longer—as Jimin continues to rock his hips against you, bringing you into a long-drawn-out bliss, while everything seems obscured as you are lost in cloud nine—until the moment Jimin slowly eases down and begins to shift. He does his best to be careful as he lowers your legs back to bed, his fingers moving in circles as if to soothe your trembling legs. Drained of energy and feeling sated at the same time, your entire body feels listless, though you still endure the occasional jolts of pleasure until they slowly begin to wane.

You close your eyes briefly as you take a deep breath, only to have them fall back open when Jimin pulls out, leaving you feeling empty. Jimin meets your gaze with a smile, making no move to leave you as he reaches out, picking up his discarded towel to clean both of you from the remnants of your wild lovemaking.

“Seems like we’ve made quite a mess,” he mutters with a chuckle while he carefully rubs your tender skin.

“Hmmmm—”

Your lack of response only makes him chuckle. Tossing the soiled towel away, Jimin kisses your lips and lies down right beside you. He gathers you in his arms, pressing you close against his chest. “But I also think it was worth it. Don’t you think?”

Once again, you give him nothing but a tired hum. Too exhausted to speak, all you could do is lean against his chest with a content sigh. You can still feel him shaking as he laughs, yet you already have your eyes closed, already fading into the dreamland that you barely hear him whisper to you, “Try to get some quick rest, baby. I’m not done with you yet.”

It feels like you barely doze off for a brief moment when you start feeling his touch on your skin again. You come awake in Jimin’s embrace, his hand on your breast, before he sets you on alert when his other hand travels down between your legs. A gentle press from his naughty fingers on your clit triggers a moan slipping out of you, then his lips descend on the side of your neck to stop you from squirming in his hold. Snaking his arm around your waist, Jimin continues kissing your skin, adding to the myriad sensations rising through your body with his fingers playing with your swollen clit while he cups your bare breast with his other hand once more.

“You’re not feeling too sore now, are you?”

The only thing that you can give him as an answer is a soft moan, when his touches seem to wake up not only your nerves, but also your desire.

“Hmmm—” is the only sound you can possibly make before a sigh of content slips out of you. But words don’t seem to matter as much when your body reacts first, as you arch your chest into his touch and you slowly give in, allowing him to pull your legs open, spreading you wide for him to lean closer and align himself at your center.

“Easy, baby. Bear it with me. It’s going to be a long night,” he whispers, right as he spreads your folds and pushes his hips forward, his stiff cock entering your throbbing pussy in a gentle stroke, though still enough to make you quiver in his arms.

Epilogue…

There is something magical about the warm sunlight falling on your skin, the sound of waves filling the background, and the colourful petals spreading against the white sand.

If there had been any doubt over having this destination wedding when you first planned it, it has surely been forgotten. Right now, all that you have in mind is the thought of walking down the aisle, the flowery path leading you towards your future. It feels like you are walking inside of a dream, with your dress flowing with each step you take, while Jimin is waiting on the other end, looking like a prince charming.

“You look beautiful,” you hear your father whisper to you as he walks you down the flowery path. You look up to him with a smile, unable to answer him without worrying that you might cry if you try. Instead, you look down, hiding your flushing face while trying to compose yourself before your emotion gets out of control.

Your eyes fall on the flower bouquet in your hands just then. The combination of white daisies and yellow roses should be able to represent your love story with Jimin, but there is another that is present as a token of your love. The baby bump that is partially hidden behind the layers adorning your dress and the flower bouquet now pressed against it.

The heart-to-heart talk that you shared with Jimin all those months ago had led to many nights of lovemaking, trying new things, new positions, and ‘more practising’, as Jimin would describe it. After a lot of effort made, a lot of waiting, and numerous tests taken, it finally happened, and now there is a precious life growing inside you.

Your dream of having your little one running ahead as your flower girl or standing by his side as the ring bearer would have come true if you had waited a while longer. But you have waited long enough, and neither of you wanted to wait until another period of time goes by to be married. You had to accept having another girl be your flower girl, Jimin’s toddler niece who is waddling clumsily towards Jimin across the flowery path while carrying her basket in her tiny arm. You watch her with a fond smile as the pretty petals keep dropping directly from the basket as she toddles away instead of from her fingers. Rubbing your palm over your bump, you picture having your own girl one day toddling ahead of you, and it is enough to cause a comforting warmth blossoming inside your chest.

After the slow walk that seems to last forever, you finally have no more than a few steps away left from reaching Jimin. Your future is just an arm’s reach away. Looking at him now, you cannot help but take a good look at the life that you have had for the past few years, of how much your fate has unravelled in the most unexpected way possible. And it all happened because Jimin came into your life.

Growing from the work relationship that was filled with challenges, to a mutual partnership filled with respect for one another, and here you are now today, exchanging gazes filled with passion and love, the mutual feelings that you both share as you embrace this new journey together.

Sometimes you cannot help but wonder where would you be today if you had taken all the different decisions in the past. But all the same time, you would always be reminded of how often your choices had almost made you lose all of your chances to be happy with him.

How often had you tried to deny your feelings in the past? From the love that you had secretly harboured for him, to your desire to become someone deserving of his love, and the desire you had for building your future with him.

Whenever you look back to those moments, you are always reminded of the times you had unconsciously put on your glass masks to hide your feelings and your true desires. The same glass mask that had once helped hide your heart and soul from him. All the same masks that were so fragile you had kept them guarded so firmly just to protect yourself and keep you safe from being hurt or disappointed.

But with your luck, Jimin had always been able to be the one to take those masks away from you. Time and time again, he would find those glass masks of yours and be the one to crack them into pieces, revealing your true self to him. With nothing more but his gentle touch and his pure love, Jimin has always been able to help you open up, to give you the courage to be completely bare for him, and you have always found the comfort of knowing that never once have you regretted ever giving your faith in his love.

Finally reaching your future husband, Jimin welcomes you by offering his hand for you to take while whispering softly,

“Ready?”

“Always,” you answer him while returning his smile.

Right there and then, as you take his hand and look up at his face, finding his eyes glowing with his unshed tears while you can feel your own beginning to form right before the priest begins reading out your vows, you find yourself breathing a sigh of content, because those glass masks are no more.

There is a fleeting moment of clarity as a soft flutter grows inside your chest the moment you open your heart and soul for him. It first comes to you as he recites his vows to spend his eternity for you and grows stronger as you promise him to do just the same. You simply embrace everything, all while holding his hands tightly, never to let go, as you are free falling into your future with him.

Together.

— © 2023 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

#bangtansorciere #btshoneyhive #kvanity #thekpopuniverse #jimin smut #jimin scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin x reader #bts jimin #park jimin #bts scenario #bts fanfic #kpop scenario #kpop writing #kpop fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader

[amethystamaranth]

Sasunaru Fic Recs

1. Before Today is Over by oshit, T-rated, 12k

Given summary: Above him, Sasuke leans over the edge of the pier to watch. Naruto hears him laugh and even with his face draped in shadow, he can imagine Sasuke’s cheshire grin, eyes crinkling with mirth. He feels Sasuke smiling at him. Naruto would pluck every star from the heavens to keep that feeling.

My summary: post-war fic with getting together, ft. letter writing and a day spent in a seaside town

2. Homesick for a Mountain’s Song by kintou, M-rated, 51k

Given Summary: Sasuke tries to get away from the world by buying an abandoned house on a mountain. Naruto, tired from his long days in Konoha, gets a little too excited about growing vegetables in Sasuke's garden. 

Notes Summary: This story will mainly be Fluff or Hurt/Comfort. Just boys being soft on top of a mountain. There will probably be some dealing with trauma going on, since living on top of a mountain gives a man a lot of time to think. Anyway, I'm just a sucker for farmfics, and I think stoic Sasuke would fit in very well with all of these rough farmers.

3. Two Moons by iluxia, M-rated, 11k 

Given summary: Paths diverge after the Fourth War, in this new world Naruto works hard to build. He holds his highest dreams within his hands, but is he happy? [ Picks up post-Kaguya, some elements of Boruto & post-700 but not entirely adherent.] 

My summary: post-canon fic where Naruto at long last discovers what (who) truly makes him happy, and consequently has a midlife crisis over it, fix-it fic

4. Syzygy by glassedplanets, T-rated, 31k 

Given summary: In which Sasuke comes home, an errand needs to be run, several people tell him things, and he realizes just what home really is, for him. 

Tags for my summary: Reunions, Homecoming, Canon Divergence, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Chapter 699 (Naruto), Fluff, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending

5. Kizuna Hikari by YoungAndOverIntelligent, M-rated, 204k 

Given Summary: The only reason Sasuke keeps coming back to Konoha is because of that mattress. The bed is his only respite. And perhaps the dumbass who owns said bed might be worth it, too. 

Or, another canon divergence 699 that showers Sasuke with too much (deserved) love and attention that we all need for these unprecedented times. Title means "Bonded Light". It'll make sense when you're about 100K in 

My summary: There was only one bed, chakra sharing, adopted cat, so much happens it’s 200k long but it flies by it’s so good

6. Rebuilding by KinomiAkai, E-rated, 25k (and anything and everything by them!! Seriously binge read all of their Naruto fics they are all amazing I had such trouble just picking one!!) 

Given Summary: Sasuke has spent every day since the war’s end trying to rebuild. It's a good thing Naruto has been doing the same, isn't it? 

My summary: Naruto’s been working himself to the bone trying to make Kohona into a place Sasuke would like to call home, when Sasuke notices and decides to help him in his endeavor--cue a developing relationship get together!

7. Everybody Knows That You Cradle the Sun by Kyxxie, 17k, E-rated 

Given summary: “Y’know—before mom passed—she used to tell me about my dad. She'd tell me the kind of person you wanted to end up with, someone you kept around. She'd tell me about opposites, about calming the other one down and bringing them back up, about how they'd do the same for you. She'd say that you wanted someone who remembered things about you, not just the big stuff. Mundane shit that doesn't need to be remembered, but they do anyway. She'd say 'keep those who chronicle your life because it's theirs, too'." 

OR 

Naruto challenges Sasuke to a game of “who knows the other person better”. Sasuke panics when he realizes that he might be the winner because what in the actual fuck does that mean? He doesn’t know. Naruto tells him.

8. The Moon Will Sing (I Loved You Like the Sun) by FlowerCitti, E-rated, 18k

Given Summary: Sasuke comes back to the village after a few months away. (Or, Sasuke realizes that Naruto is more of a home to him than Konoha ever was.) 

My Summary: Post-canon, Naruto trying to make Kohona a home for Sasuke, in the process he overworks himself, getting together

9. Armistice by surveycorpsjean, M-rated, 15k 

Given summary: Sasuke is still here. Or maybe; love hasn't passed them yet. 

My Summary: Post-Boruto movie fix-it fic, getting together, AU where Naruto gets married (then divorced) but Sasuke never does, lovely conversations

10. Komorebi by saltedpotato, M-rated, 68k

Given Summary: Komorebi: A Japanese word for the way sunlight filters through the leaves of a tree canopy His responsibilities to the world fulfilled, Naruto Uzumaki takes Sasuke Uchiha and disappears from the public eye, letting the world readjust by itself in the aftermath of the Fourth Shinobi World War. Follow along with a series of windows into the lives of two boys as they relearn what they mean to the world and what they mean to each other.

Enjoy <3

#sasunaru fic recs #sns fic recs #narusasu fic recs #sasunaru #narusasu #also apologies for not linking authors tumblr wouldn't let me alas

[lunar-rcp]

When you saved me (And now, I'll save you)

☆ tags ; . . Hurt/Comfort, fluff!

!! note : this is practically an epilogue to “The justice that lies within my heart”, please read that first to understand this oneshot! This is basically Roy taking care of Poli after the gunshot, and the entire shock of the gunshot settled in (so much poli angst..)

. . .

There he was, nestled deeply in the comfort of his own bed. Poli had been off duty for a while now, more than he can count. How long has it even been? Time felt endless for the police car, but at the same time; It also felt too fast for his liking.

The others had tended to him during those times. Something he really appreciated. However, there was a singular person who had visited him the most.

A peculiar kind fire engine, with a soft spoken voice that could soothe others to ease. Roy.

Out of all the people who had visited him; Roy visited him the most. Roy always managed to crack a joke, tell Poli about the stories he had while he was on patrol, and occasionally even bring him food.

He cared so much.

So why couldn't he even manage to have a small grin throughout this week?

Poli was in a daze. He didn't understand.

Poli drew a long sigh, pulling the covers closer to his face. This week has been a rollercoaster of emotions for everyone and yet he hasn't even felt an ounce of emotion. Poli felt like he was ungrateful.

“Pfft,” Poli snorted. “Imagine not even expressing your emotions properly, god– get a hold of yourself, Poli.” He silently ranted to himself as he gripped the sheets tighter.

“Uh, Poli?” A distant voice came from outside the door. A voice all too familiar.

Roy.

“Mm,” Poli hummed. “Come in.” Poli replied in a monochrome tone.

Roy couldn't help but feel a little saddened by how lifeless Poli had looked throughout the week. He wished that he could just see a smile, any emotion would suffice, really.

The fire engine was worried sick.

With a deep exhale, Roy hesitantly pushed open the door with his free arm. On his other hand he was carrying a tray with a porcelain bowl filled with rice. A smaller dish was also next to the bigger one. As to not leave the rice tasteless, Roy had also prepared a few layers of kimchi on the smaller plate. Roy easily had claimed the title of being the best cook out of the entire team, something he admittedly held pride to.

“I, uh–” Roy stammered awkwardly, reading off the script he had mentally prepared before going in. “Brought you some food. Do you need any help with eating? Because, Y'know–”

Roy sighed. “Your arm.”

“Hm.” Poli gave it some thought. He wasn't really hungry the past weeks; not even in the slightest. He had only eaten revoltingly so as to not worry his peers further. “I'm not really that hungry, but you can place it on the nightstand.” Poli gave a small weak smile. “I'll be.. fine.” Would he, really?

“Ah, okay.” Roy averted his eyes towards the side. He knew Poli a little too well to know that smile wasn't genuine. Though, he thought it was best to not push it too far. Slow, little steps were the key to dire situations in Roy's mindset.

Roy gently placed the tray of food onto the nightstand. “Do.. you mind if I sit here?” Roy shuffled his foot.

Poli gazed wearily out of the window, not facing the fire engine. “Like I've said, go ahead. You don't need to ask, it's alright.” Poli answered Roy's question in a dull tone. Poli had also noticed that his tone of voice changed a lot compared to his usual cheerful demeanor.

“Alright, thank you.” Roy slid a wooden stool next to Poli's bed and sat down on it with his hands on his knees.

A minute of silence passed by. It was.. rather hard for Roy to speak out for whatever reason. Usually, he'd have no problem chatting with Poli. But this time it was different.

And he wasn't liking it.

“Uhm, so–” Roy broke the silence. “How's the shoulder? Is it, uh–.. Feeling better?” If Roy was in a competition of the worst small talker, he'd win with flying colors.

“I suppose.. It's fine.” Poli turned his head towards his shoulder, softly brushing over it with his hand. “It's not unbearable anymore, at least.” Poli faked out a chuckle. Anything to brighten up the impending tension.

God, he felt so selfish. He became this sullen, weary person.

He couldn't even muster up the emotion towards the fact he had just been shot just a few weeks ago.

Was this.. his mindset blocking out his feelings?

He didn't know. But.. he wasn't liking this. He noticed over the past weeks, everyone has lost their personality.

This was all his fault. Looking at Roy's saddened expression felt like his heart shattering into millions of pieces.

Roy doesn't need to tirelessly deal with him. He'll have to deal with himself, even if it means he'd add up to Roy's worry.

“Just go, please.” Poli quickly spoke out. Roy's eyes slightly widened at Poli's sudden words, taking a moment's time to even comprehend his request.

“A–Are you sure?” Roy sheepishly asked, fidgeting with his hands covertly. Poli only nodded his head before turning away. He felt too cruel to even look him in the eyes.

(Poli, you monster.) Were words repeated in Poli's head like a carousel at the amusement park.

“Ah.. alright, then.” A sad glint shone in Roy's eyes, but there was nothing he could do. Roy softly breathed out as he pushed the wooden stool back into its proper place.

“See you, Poli.” Roy said his goodbyes, leisurely stepping towards the door.

Poli wanted to return with a simple goodbye, but something held him back.

He felt spewing emotions preparing to erupt out of him.

“By–By..” Poli's voice trembled at the same pace his hands were. Tears pricked at his eyes, it stung.

Instead of a goodbye, it was a plea.

“P–Please,” Poli stuttered. “Don't go!” Poli loudly exclaimed, stopping Roy in his tracks. It was so different from the tired voice he spoke with.

“Huh, Poli? Is there somethi–” Roy turned to face Poli, but that was the arrow to break Poli's ice-cold mask.

Poli cried. He was crying.

“I–I'm, ohmygosh–” Poli could barely muster a coherent sentence over the tears that overflowed from his eyes. “I didn't mean to– I–” He desperately tried to speak out, but to no avail.

“Poli!” Roy made quick steps to his now sobbing best friend. He carefully took Poli's hands into his. The fire engine tenderly rubbed the back of Poli's hands with his thumbs.

“It will be okay, just breathe with me.” Roy exhaled softly, in which Poli had done the same. It didn't take too long for their breaths to be in sync. Although Poli's breaths were shaken, the breathing exercise did help.

“You're doing great.” Roy's face softened. “You've calmed down a little. Now, could you tell me what's wrong, Poli?” His gaze was set on his hands. He didn't want to freak out the police car if he had stared directly back in his eyes.

“It's– J–Just,” Poli sniffed. “I feel so terrible. I--I've been terrible to all of you– And I'm just so sorry.” Poli escaped one of his hands out of Roy's grasp, he frantically tried to wipe away his tears. But, that was when Roy stopped him when he gently wrapped a hand around his wrist.

“You aren't terrible. Please, don't say that.” Roy let go of his hand to wipe away a tear with his thumb. “Remember? You're the heart of the team, Poli. You have saved us countless times.”

“So, please,” Roy placed a hand onto his own collarbone with a determined look that had sparked. “Let me save you, just this once.”

“Roy..” Poli muttered quietly. “How did I even deserve you?” Another tear formed in his eye.

But, this was a different one.

A happy one.

The road may be bumpy, but there were always others for him to help him along the way.

And Poli truly appreciated that.

#robocar poli #robocar #poli #roy #oneshot #kidshow #angst #comfort

[puppiesandnightlock]

LINK: A Robin's Song - Epilogue

A/N: i regret nothing >:)

Five Years Later

‘Deadline at 12:00 AM tonight, Kent.’ Jon fumbled with his keys, reading the email his boss had sent out and unlocking the door.

It opened to a small apartment, empty, with some photos spread around, and a framed Bachelor’s degree over the couch. 

He dropped his briefcase on the kitchen counter, briefly tripping over a child’s toy. He sighed and picked up, setting it next to the briefcase. 

The fridge was littered with pictures, a mix of hand drawn and printed ones. Jon stepped out, checking the clock on the wall before settling down on the couch. He had about an hour before he needed to go out again.

A sticky note was on his phone cover as he pulled it out and he played with it, briefly considering calling the number written on it. It was from some pink-haired guy in his chem lecture who’d given it to him a few hours ago.

He pulled it off and set it next to the picture frame holding a picture of his high school years, gaze lingering a bit too long on the figure next to him.

Where would he be now? Surely, if he had made it big, Jon would have heard his name somewhere.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of this train of thought. But, after all, who could forget their first true love?

The phone lit up with a notification, and he swiped up, eyes brightening as he clicked on the banner.

It took him to a Q&A livestream of ROBIN, the only good thing he could remember from his last semester of high school that wasn’t tainted by memories of her, or painfully sweet scenes with the other half of his childhood.

Robin had on an oddly familiar green knit sweater and his usual green domino, and was smiling as he answered a fan’s question, a voice modulator over his normal talking voice. 

“The domino mask was originally for anonymity, although now it's more of a trademark. If I do end up going to a concert, I might reveal my real face to you guys. Thanks for the question!”

Jon’s brow was furrowed, something felt oddly out of place in a way none of it had before. Robin chatted about various new songs he’d released, and then gave a sneak peek to his new one, per the chat’s request.

“This one’s sort of a throwback to my first song, which I'm sure most of you know very well. It’s titled If Only You Knew, and it…it’s really close to my heart, for reasons I'm sure you understand.”

A message popped up in the chat, other people latching onto it and repeating it, the chat a chorus of “Tell us about Heather!”

The soft chuckle sounded painful on video, and Jon leaned into his phone curiously, wanting to know himself. This song had come out after he’d let his own unrequited feelings bleed out, covering them up with new feelings for someone who returned them, and he’d listened to it more then he’d like to admit.

The filters came off the video, including the voice modulator.

“If I'm telling this story, I'd like to tell it as myself. Not with Robin’s voice.”

Some unbridled feeling of shock and fear cause Jon to gasp aloud and drop his phone, the familiar voice, deeper now with a note of tiredness, washed over him, jolting him back to high school, back to middle school, back even to elementary and that little town he’d grown up in.

Long forgotten memories dug themselves up and flooded his brain without his consent, tears he hadn't realized he was shedding dripped from his chin as he shakily picked up the phone and stared at who he had thought was long gone from his life.

He zeroed back in as Robin’s, no, Damian’s voice recounted the journey of his music, the way every single song had come from a moment that he’d experienced, or that they’d experienced together. 

It was like reliving the whole experience through eyes that weren’t his own, tears pooling on his cheeks.

“After we…After I screwed everything over, he moved. I remember chasing after the stupid moving van and calling and calling and calling until I finally realized he blocked me.”

On-screen, he turned around and removed the domino, wiping his eyes, before plastering it back on and turning to his camera.

“I was a mess, for a little while. I won’t get into details, but it was not a fun time. I got help and stuff, and well, you guys know the rest.”

The chat was overflowing with messages, but the one that caught Jon’s eye was one that said “Do you miss him?”

It was selfish but he turned up the volume, desperate for an answer. He wanted to know as much as the rest of the fans, biting his lip until a metallic taste filled his mouth.

On screen, Damian inhaled deeply, eyes shut and voice wobbling. “In answer to Haylia_1654's question…yes. I miss him very much, and to this day I wish everything had gone much differently.”

“He was one half of my childhood, and I know that he’s doing well, as his little brother stayed close with one of mine. I wish him nothing but happiness, wherever he is and whoever he’s with.”

Jon’s chest was tight, the air being sucked out of his lungs with every little inhale.

His vision blurred, and before he realized what he was doing, he was typing out words onto the screen and sending them into the live chat.

Under the little diamond ‘S’ he’d made when he was in middle school to match Damian's ‘R’, and the username Jon_Kent, were the words “I miss you too”.

Desperation filled him and he repeated the message several dozen times, watching and waiting for Damian to take notice.  

On-screen, the boy was drinking from a water bottle, and Jon silently documented the exact moment his eyes landed on the message, water spat out onto the screen as his whited-out eyes moved from side to side, re-reading the messages until the rest of the frantic chat covered them up.

“Oh my God, oh my God, please, please, please-” A flash of green knocked the phone to the floor and the last the world saw of “Robin” that day were the black tennis shoes he was wearing, stream cutting off as the camera hit the floor.

Heart pounding in his chest, Jon clicked on the profile, finger hovering over the message button.

He had long ago unblocked Damian’s old number, only to find that it was no longer in service. 

Logically, this was the only way that they could get in contact. And he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to, wished for best friend back, the now-stranger who knew all his secrets.

He trembled in his seat, clicking the button and watching the words telling him he’d started a new DM with ROBIN_Offical.

Taking a deep breath, he typed out a short message, waiting for the response bubbles to come dancing across his screen.

Jon_Kent 

Hey, D

Missed you.

ROBIN_Offical is typing…

#damian wayne #jondami #jon kent #a robin's song #jonathan kent #jonathan samuel kent #supersons #unrequited love #nothing too heavy this time #reverse robins #musician au #no capes au #batkids age reversal #a ROBIN mixtape

[fourseasonsfigs]

Goodbye Jianghu

As you can tell from the title, these figs represent some of the last moments of filming for Word of Honor for Gong Jun and Zhang Zhehan.

The inspiration for and the name of this set comes from Zhang Zhehan's Weibo post from March 23, 2021, marking the airing of the final episode of Word of Honor. His post is simply titled, Goodbye Jianghu:

It's such a beautiful picture of Zhehan - walking back in his white immortal A-Xu robes.

I had this picture in mind as the matching photo inspiration of Gong Jun, white haired and ethereal looking:

...but when I went to upload it, this clearly isn't it, after all. Did the fig maker just make a complementary fig to Zhehan's picture? I have no idea? I searched through every pic in my Behind the Scenes photo folder, and I could not come up with a pic that matched this fig. Let me know if you know!

On a side note, I recently bought a little lighted box to take pictures in, so I wouldn't be quite so dependent on the few daylight hours in my photography area. I tried it out with these figs, and we'll see how it goes.

Hmm, there's quite a bit of texture in the backdrop, isn't there? Well, we'll keep going!

Yes, those are some little tears welling up in Zhehan's eyes. Like Zhou Zishu, he is also tough on the outside but soft at heart!

I really, really love that Gong Jun's hand is tucked behind his back in his signature pose. Also, his big chunky white hair bangs are fantastically modeled here.

These figs stand up beautifully. So much so that I didn't put them on stands at all, which is extremely rare for my figs, if only because I like them to generally have a uniform look. But, in this case, I wanted to preserve Zhehan's pose just like this.

The robes help quite a bit in keeping them standing tall.

The slight motion modeled into these figs is great. Not overdone, just enough to make it interesting.

The little hands are adorable.

Aww, this is the clearest shot of the tears in Zhehan's eyes! Don't cry, little fig.

Here's a non-box background set of photos for contrast. In retrospect I probably should have picked a non-white clothed set of figs to try this out, since they're all slightly blending into (whichever) background. The LED light of the photo box is a little golden tinted, I see.

I really like how fig Gong Jun is very correctly wearing his black pants with this costume. I love this level of detail!

You can see them a little better here. Sorry for the reflection of the background underneath their hair, I have no idea how that happened! I see I definitely need to replace this little backdrop in the lightbox.

Zhehan's face is just so sweet in this set!

I love A-Xu's little married hair bun. Both of their hairstyles in the epilogue are A+ for sure.

The art on the boxes are very, very cute. We have the background with Zhehan's Weibo post and what I imagine is the background on the green-screen mountaintop from Gong Jun's pose for this fig. I'll keep looking around for it!

Material: PVC

Fig Count: 518

Scene Count: 36

Rating: 后会有期 - I'm sure we'll meet again someday

[link to the Master Post Index]

#word of honor filming #word of honor #zhang zhehan #gong jun #junzhe #word of honor cast #figthusiast #wen kexing #zhou zishu

[lockefanfic]

Business Trip Interlude: Control

Author’s Note: No BT spoilers, but this takes place after the Epilogue.

---

There is a small, sly smile on her soft red lips.

She leans back to half sit on the edge of her desk. Her fingers graze the triangular block of marble atop it that announced her name and new title - Tzuyu Chou, Associate Director, JYP Europe. The smile widens slightly, and a barely noticeable glint of pride can be found in the corners of those lips.

Without breaking eye contact, you watch as her fingers leave the marble plate and drift, slowly, towards the collar of her blouse. With long, slim fingers she begins to undo its buttons.

In her white blouse and navy pencil skirt, Chou Tzuyu looked leagues above any other woman in the London office - with the possible exception of only two others. The blouse hugged the curves of her chest tightly, and the skirt did well to highlight the delicious flare of her waist into her full, wide hips.

The three hundred dollar blouse quickly becomes a pile of rumpled cotton on the floor of her office, joined quickly by the lace and silk of her bra.

It takes every effort to keep your gaze from drifting as inch after inch of delicious, creamy skin is revealed to you. But the sly, devilish look in those dark brown pools is so enrapturing, so engrossing, that you found it easy to hold her gaze even as she undressed herself.

You watch, eyes still locked on hers, as the now topless young woman bends slightly at the waist, giving you a good glimpse of her round, dangling breasts and the stiffened nipples atop them in your peripheral vision. Her fingertips grasp the hem of her short skirt before pulling it up her full thighs, revealing the white silk panties she had on beneath it.

Her fingers dig into the waistband of her undergarments. She teases you for a moment, letting the anticipation build, letting her sly smile widen even further - before she slowly draws the slip of fabric down her long, perfect legs.

Once it joins the quickly growing pile of clothing on the floor, her fingers return to her skirt. She pulls it up again, over her thighs this time, until it is bunched up around her waist. The soft, inviting skin between her thighs beckons - along with the small, perfectly maintained patch of hair above her lower lips.

“Do you like the way I look, daddy?”

For the first time since she’d walked into the room, your eyes leave hers. You drink in the sight of her near naked body. Young, tight, perfect. It was a question with an obvious answer.

“Yes, Tzuyu.”

You’d come to London ostensibly for work purposes - part of which involved meeting with Choa to discuss promotions for Tzuyu and Dahyun. The two youngest members of your former team had put in a lot of good work during their time in Europe, and both you and Choa agreed that their promotions were well deserved. To her surprise, you’d also put Choa herself down for a promotion to Senior Director - something she was keen to thank you for in the way that you were both well accustomed to.

And so, only a few hours removed from your morning “meeting” with Choa - one that had taken place mostly with her sitting atop her desk with her legs spread and your head between them, or with her being bent over it while you pounded her from behind - you’d found yourself with the privilege of informing Tzuyu of her own promotion. And like her senior, Tzuyu had insisted that she thank you for it, even if you both knew such thankfulness was unnecessary. Her promotion was borne completely out of her own hard work, and not due to some misguided nepotism - nor was it meant to imply an exchange of any sort.

But who were you to deny the gratitude of a thankful young woman?

Hands still grasping the hem of her skirt to keep it bunched up around her waist - and ensuring you had a perfect view of her exposed crotch - she leaves the desk to step towards you. Each step is confident, measured, each one marked with a sharp clack of her heels on the hardwood floor. The young woman had always been a confident one, but since leaving for Europe she’d gained a measure of self-assuredness that wasn’t present in her before. It was evident in the way she spoke, the way she moved - and in that mature, self-assured smile upon those perfect red lips.

When she draws close to the chair you are sitting in, she slips first one leg and then the other over yours until she is sitting in your lap. No pre-amble, no slow, torturous teasing. She had no need for such things. Not when she knew what she wanted, how to get it, and that you were all-too-willing to give it to her.

Confident, proud, bold - that was the new Chou Tzuyu. Confident in the knowledge that you would please her the way she wanted. Proud of her body and its effect on you. Bold - in the way she had always been, only enhanced by her maturity into the young woman she had become.

Her hands leave her skirt, now a bunched up length of expensive fabric around her tiny waist. They take your head between her palms, and she dips her head to kiss you.

It had been a few long months since you’d seen her last, and even longer since you’d indulged in the delights of her body - but you’d never forgotten the utter lust she could inspire in you. The women in your life each had their own, distinct charms that were unique to them and them only - and Tzuyu was no different.

Her allure was unlike Choa’s submissiveness, Mina’s dominance, Sana’s seductiveness or Momo’s physical perfection. There was something carnal about sex with Chou Tzuyu, something basic, something that spoke of natural, raw desire and barely restrained need. Perhaps it was her body - that angelic face above a body made for sin. Perhaps it was something darker - her youth, and the pretend-submissiveness implied by her pet name for you. Whatever it was, the second your lips touch that need within you that was owned only by her reignites - bursts into wicked, bright flame.

Your mouths and tongues duel mercilessly with each other, not wasting time with faux tenderness or unnecessary softness. Tongues dive between teeth, encircle and intertwine with each other, slide across needy lips. After a few moments your mouth leaves hers to dive into her neck, and she arches against you, tilts her head up and back, offers up more of her soft, creamy skin to you.

Your hands reach for her back, delight in the feel of her naked shoulder blades and spine curving deliciously as she presses her neck and chest against you. Your fingertips dig into her flesh, as though wanting to grasp her, hold her, possess her as though she were something to be kept, something to be owned, even if in some small part of your brain you knew it was you that was being owned, being possessed - and that she could never be.

Just as your lips struggle to devour every part of the young woman’s body, your nose fills itself with her scent. She smells of strawberries and sugar, honey and sweetness. She fills your lungs with a scent that is uniquely hers and one that isn’t the product of some artificial laboratory - Chou Tzuyu smells purely of virile youth, and unfiltered lust, and barely restrained need - the same things that defined what made her unique amongst every other woman in your life.

You breathe her in, fill your lungs with her. She catches you doing so, and even if you can’t see her face, you knew for a fact that that smug, foxy smile of hers had widened slightly yet again.

“Do you like the way I smell, daddy?

Another question. Another obvious answer.

“Yes, Tzuyu.”

She gasps as you latch your lips around a warm spot in her neck, the first wordless sound of desire in what would probably be a long string of such sounds. The gasp turns into a long sigh as you begin to trace a path down her upper chest, lips planting kisses upon soft, perfect skin to mark the trail of desire you leave on her body.

When you reach her small, round breasts you waste little time with teasing or foreplay - she did not, so why should you? You capture the taut, tight nipple atop her left breast between your lips, licking and twisting the tip of your tongue around it before sucking from it as though it were something to be drunk from, like a newborn seeking its next meal.

She gasps and moans with each lick, each suckle you draw from her chest. Her fingers dig into your scalp with a force that would have been painful were your brain not utterly consumed with drinking your fill of the soft mounds of flesh in front of you. You suckle from her as though you could draw drink from each nipple, switching from one quivering breast to the other, and she is content to let you do so, every long second of suction on her stiff, sensitive teats  sending delicious, sharp spikes of pleasure up her spine and into her lust-drunk brain.

Tzuyu manages to find the bandwidth to rip her right hand from your sore scalp. It disappears between your bodies. You expect her to work at the now-painfully tight tent you have pitched in your trousers, only to find that her hand has disappeared between her spread legs. You are still mostly occupied with the delicious feast you are making of her breasts, but in your peripheral vision you notice the dip of her wrist as her fingers slip into the slick, dripping opening at her crotch. For a few moments she pleasures herself, slipping fingers into her quickly drenching pussy, unconsciously grinding her crotch against you even as you suckle from her breasts.

The fingers of her left hand, still intertwined in your hair, suddenly pull your head from her breasts, leaving them a saliva-soaked mess. She captures your eyes with her own, and in her half-lidded orbs there is a wild, lustful look.

She brings the fingers of her right hand to your lips. Glistening. Slick. Wet.

You take her fingertips into your mouth, and the taste of her body floods your palette. If her breasts were sweet and soft, her juices are tangy and slick - but still delicious, still utterly mouth watering. Your lips close around her fingers the way they did around her nipples - hungry for every drop of her that you could have. When she speaks, every word is light, airy, borne aloft by desire.

“Do you like the way I taste, daddy?”

Another question. An obvious answer.

“Yes, Tzuyu.”

Another widening of that smile, another glint of perfect white ivory between rose red lips.

Her fingers, clean of her juices but slick now with her spit, leave your mouth. Eyes locked on yours, noses hovering inches apart, her hands work quickly on your belt and zipper. Her fingers work with the experience gained from so many lustful mornings and afternoons and evenings. They know what to do. They’d done it so many times before. They do it quickly.

Your shaft is free for only a moment before she grasps its stiff length with her left hand, drawing a sharp gasp from your unprepared lips at that first intimate touch. Her palm is soft and warm, and she gives you a few sharp pumps - a delicious appetizer, a delectable precursor of what was to come. Her thumb brushes over your slit, finding it already slick with pre-cum. She slides the slick liquid over your tip. All you can do is sigh.

She raises her hips. She points your cock at her dripping entrance, captures the head of your cock between her slick lips. Her plentiful juices drip onto your shaft as she holds your tip inside her. She moves her hips and waist, gyrates against your shaft, massaging your cock head with her pussy lips, lathering it with her clear, glistening juices. You grasp her by the waist, fingers digging into soft flesh, wanting nothing more than to pull her hips down and bury yourself inside her - but she fights you, resists your cute little attempts to force her hand. She delights in teasing you with her body. Delights in watching you squirm.

She smiles. Wicked. Sinful. Utterly irresistible - until she has finally had her fill of teasing.

Then she takes you inside her.

It had been too long - too long without being inside Chou Tzuyu’s slick, wet, hot pussy. Your job and your new marriage to one of the most carnally inexhaustible women on earth had no doubt claimed most of your sexual attention, to say nothing of your occasional visits with other past liaisons, along with the odd new one - but you knew in that moment that you had gone far, far too long without Tzuyu.

She is so tight, so slick, so wet - even more so than you remembered her ever being. Perhaps your lust-addled mind was just imagining it, having gone too long without being inside her. Perhaps it was her self-admitted inability to find a decent lay in this country, or at least one that filled her the way you did. Perhaps that left her every bit as tight as the last time you were with her. Whatever the reason, your first entry into Tzuyu’s pussy causes the air to rush out of your lungs.

And it leaves her breathless as well, judging by the long, drawn-out moan that leaves her lips. Her eyes finally shut, wishing to cancel out every other sensation aside from the sheer pleasure she feels at finally being filled with you once more. She loves the way you stretch her out, fill her completely.

Hilt-deep inside her, filled to the brim with cock, she takes a moment to breathe, a moment to savor the feeling of being stuffed with you. She feels herself stretch around your length. You feel her pulsate, feel her squeeze you with her tight walls. You both gasp. You both sigh. You both inhale each others’ scent, filling needy lungs with each other's musk as though it were a hit of some illicit substance you had gone far too long without.

She moves first. She always did. Those thick, full thighs of hers move quickly, drawing your cock out of her body, leaving it glistening, slick, shiny with her juices, her parted lips clenching tightly around every inch of it that leaves her. But you only have a moment to admire the sight before she slams herself back down, not quite as fast, not quite as quick as you knew she was capable of - it really had been a long time since her last fuck, apparently, and she seemed to need the time to get used to your size.

But it doesn’t last long - soon she has accustomed herself to you again, stretched her own body out enough around your thick girth. Soon her pussy remembers how full and stuffed it felt to be filled with you. And her body reacts. It begins to fuck itself on your cock the way she knew how.

Soon Tzuyu is bouncing atop your cock the same way she had on many an afternoon in your office, on many a lazy morning in your apartment. But today is different - she has grown, from a girl into a woman, and with that growth came a new confidence, a new pride in herself and her body that was always there but wasn’t always obvious - to her or to others.

But it’s there now, obvious in the pulsating of her pussy, the voluntary, controlled squeezing of her walls with each entry and exit of your cock. It’s in the way she leans back as she rides you, holding onto you only by her grip on your shoulders, arching her back to give you the best possible view of her body as she slams herself over and over into your cock - the best view of her thick, full thighs, parted as widely as they can; of her toned, defined abs as they flex and work to throw her body against you over and over; of those perfect, round breasts and the stiff, saliva-streaked nipples atop them as they bounce, seductively, deliciously, with each impact, each clap of her naked thighs on yours.

But above them all is her face - that angelic, pure face, twisted in pleasure. Brow furrowed, eyes shut, Tzuyu is a sight to be seen, a sight equalled only by a few other women in your life. To see such a young, pretty face twisted and perverted by lewd pleasure - it was an intoxicating sight, one you wanted to burn into your memory and never, ever forget.

But there is a difference there, too - in the those rose red lips - something that wasn’t there when she was a sex-starved teenager sharing your apartment while she pretended to house hunt, or when she was a young member of your team that you took your pleasure from between meetings and operations.

In between the wordless, breathless sighs and moans of pleasure, there is a smile - a sly, confident smile - one that told you Chou Tzuyu had grown into something much more than she was. She was no longer that needy if awkward teenager with a voracious, irresistible sexual appetite - no, she was a woman now. One that was fully aware of who she was, fully aware of the charms and allure of her perfect body - and how to use it to get what she wanted.

It all became abundantly clear to you in that moment. She had always had some control over you - but now she knew it.

She brings her mouth to your ear, not once stopping or even slowing the rhythm of her hips and thighs as they work to crash her body against yours again and again and again. From her lips issues a long, drawn-out string of wordless, breathless sighs and moans and gasps. Each one is a perfect expression of pleasure, clear and precise, without the need for such trivial human inventions like language. Each moan is a vocal manifestation of pleasure, each sigh an announcement of her need for more.

She moans and sighs and gasps. No words - until she finally decides to break her silence, each syllable punctuated by a slap of wet skin on wet skin - she speaks in the most carnal, most lustful dialect known to man.

“Do you… do you… like… the way… I sound, daddy?”

Another question. Another obvious answer.

“Yes, Tzuyu.”

The words leave your mouth before you even know you are saying them - with wet slapping of skin on skin and the pleasured moans of one of the most beautiful women on earth filling your ears as she fucks herself on your cock, how could you answer any differently? Was there any sweeter sound in the world besides the wet, creamy sounds of a pussy being filled, the soft thud of thighs meeting, the breathless moans of a pleasure-wracked woman?

No - nothing else came close. Nothing aside from how it all felt - but you’d caught on to ther little game, and you knew that question would come soon enough.

Minutes pass as Tzuyu rides you atop her office chair. If she felt fatigued at all by the effort needed to impale herself again and again on your cock she certainly hid it well - she showed no sign of slowing or stopping. The beads of sweat produced by her effort provide only another stimulus, another sensory highlight to watch and appreciate. They drip from her brow and onto the side of her perfect face, down her long neck, and onto her upper chest and the bouncing breasts atop them.

You bend your head to lick it off, savoring the taste of her salty sweet sweat on your palette, along with the warm, soft skin beneath it. You drag your tongue up her chest and onto her neck and she sighs and moans and squeezes herself even tighter around your cock in appreciation.

Her pace quickens. Her face leaves your cheek. Those perfect, soft features are twisted by pleasure - but she maintains a sense of pride, a sense of control that wasn’t there when she was younger. There is control there, now. Control over her body, control over the lustful little liaison you two were sharing.

She bites her lip. The corner of her mouth perks up. A smile. That damned smile.

It remains on her lips, even as she reaches her peak, even as she throws herself against you so hard and fast you wonder how she is able to do so without hurting herself. She impales herself again and again and again, filling her tight, wet little pussy over and over with thick, hard cock. Nothing else in the world matters to her, nothing else in the world even fucking exists aside from the pleasure she was creating for herself between her spread legs.

She throws her head back, sending sweat-matted hair flying - and for a moment the prideful, almost smug smile on her lips disappears, replaced by the throes of a woman in orgasm. Her mouth ajar, eyes involuntarily shut, Chou Tzuyu is the very picture of pleasure. She shudders and trembles and her pussy pulsates around you and it’s all you can do to hold on hard to her waist and hips as she rides out her orgasm, lets it flow over and around her and take her over.

You want to hold on - want to prolong the pleasure, want to make it past her orgasm and maybe throw her over onto the desk and take her the way you want - but when she brings her head back down, when she captures your eyes with hers once more… that’s what breaks you.

It’s almost as if her eyes have commanded you to do so. Even half-lidded, wracked with pleasure, they tell you one thing - to cum inside her, right at that moment. Her pussy pulsates around you. She impales herself to your hilt, filling her completely with your cock, driving you as deep inside you as she can, ensuring that every inch of you is surrounded by wet, hot, slick flesh.

Her body exerts its control over you in a way that you could never hope to resist. It makes you powerless. It makes you act according to its whims. It makes you cum.

And so you orgasm, just as she wants you to. Your grip tightens hard around her waist and you feel your cock swell as it fills and then spurts thick, hot semen deep into Tzuyu’s grasping, pulsating pussy. Three, four, five ropes - you lose count. Her body drains you of every drop you have, and you are happy to give it to her, give it all to her.

She lets little gasps of pleasure escape her lips as she is filled with each rope, each one a little wordless expression of pride, as though the volume of thick hot semen you left inside her was an indicator of how well she had done, how well she had drained you.

And drained you she has - she is so full of you, so filled with your cum that it begins to leak out between the still cock-stuffed lips of her pussy, combining with the plentiful streams of her own juices to stain your thighs and drip down your balls. You make a hot, creamy mess of her body and neither of you would have it any other way.

You find yourself with your face buried in her warm, flushed, sweat-slick upper chest, not quite knowing when or how you’d planted your face against her body. It was like awakening from a dream - the most desirable one you’d had in recent memory. But slowly, your senses return, begin to awaken and emerge from the foggy, hazy mists of pleasure.

“Do you like the way I feel, daddy?”

A last question, and an expected one. One with the most obvious answer. Hilt deep inside the creamy, cum-filled, still-pulsating pussy of one of the most beautiful women on earth, how would anyone answer any differently?

“Yes, Tzuyu.”

The smile reappears. Smug. Proud. In control.

She spends a few more moments filled with you, slowly gyrating her hips and thighs and using your cock as a lewd stir stick, mixing the slick, creamy concoction of juices you’d made inside her. The wet, warm juices leaking from her opening stain her naked thighs and your pants, not that you cared in the slightest. She manages to pull a few last spikes of pleasure from both of your bodies as you bask in the afterglow of sex, savoring the last few sensations even as your bodies slowly come down from the ridiculous highs and drift back down to earth.

She gives you a kiss - one that is surprisingly tender. You can almost feel her smile as she kisses you, although there is a slight lifting of the haughty, smug confidence for a moment. It is a surprisingly passionate kiss, as though she were hoping to tell you without words that she was thankful to see you again, thankful to be reunited with an old friend.

She lifts herself off your body, and you both watch with baited breath as your slick, glistening cock re-emerges from between the lips of her pussy. She drips a sizeable stream of your fresh, warm semen from her opening, and the drops land on your pants and onto the floor - not that either of you gave a damn about the mess you’d both made of each others’ bodies or clothes or even the office you’d occupied.

Tzuyu steps back towards her own desk and the pile of discarded clothing she’d left upon its feet, the loud clack clack clack of her heels suddenly the only sound in what was a loud office a few moments before. When she bends to pick up her blouse, she gives you a perfect view of the freshly-fucked flesh between her flushed, reddened thighs - and the slick, thick stream of your combined juices flowing down those long, shapely legs of hers.

“Cancel your meeting with Dahyun this afternoon,” she says, sternly, as she slips her blouse over her shoulders and buttons it up, not even bothering with her bra. “Her promotion can wait until tomorrow.” When she turns to face you again, her stiff nipples poke through the soft white fabric.

“And why would I do that?” you answer, slyly, finally rising on shaky legs and tucking yourself back into your pants.

It was an obvious question. One with an obvious answer. You knew what she wanted, what she had planned for you for the rest of the day and likely the rest of the night, too. But you had to hear her say it.

“We haven’t fucked in months,” Tzuyu says, stepping around her desk to pick up her laptop and jacket before stepping past you towards the door. As she passes you she pauses for a moment to reach up and graze your jawline with her fingertips. “Do you really think one load of your cum is enough for me… daddy?”

When Tzuyu reaches the door she gives you only a short glance before leaving the office altogether - and in that split-second, with a sly, confident smile on her lips, she tells you all you need to know.

It was obvious in the way she fucked you, in the way she controlled each of your senses while she did so, and in the way she so easily dictated your plans for the rest of the day. Your relationship with Chou Tzuyu had changed in the time you’d spent apart.

She was in control now.

---

Author’s Note: Scientist outfit Tzuyu too hawt.

This was BFH PWP filth-tier stuff written while I was busy with irl stuff, plz don’t judge, plz read my other better writing lol. More stuff is on the way, just need to find the time to write it all down.

Be excellent to yourselves and to each other <3

#twice #tzuyu #smut

[btsgotjams27]

All Grown Up ~ JJK | 16

✨ title: all grown up | series (completed) ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader | ✨ rating: R/18+ ~ minors dni ✨ genre/au: romance, fluff, angst, friends-to-lovers, humor, banter, smut, age gap, best friends little brother ✨ author's notes: I won't be updating this series on Tumblr. Please continue this series on AO3 or Wattpad. Links below. This fic is inspired by the k-drama, Something in the Rain. ✨ author's notes 2: okay, so i do plan on editing the rest of this series! i just don't know when it'll be done.

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] prev | next ✨ epilogue

✨ chapter sixteen ~ you deserve everything and more | wc: 1.4k

The rehearsal dinner was a success. You were relieved that that part was over, but the wedding was only in the next few weeks. Then the real festivities would really begin. This was only a tiny piece of the bigger puzzle.

You began to clear out the décor sitting on the table and put them back in their boxes as someone approached you from behind.

"Hey," a voice chimed in.

You gazed up at the tall, handsome man with a soft smile. "Hey, Jin." He really did look dashing in a suit and tie.

Jin crossed his arms, leaning against the table. "I loved your speech, but I'm slightly offended that I didn't get asked to do one."

Along with Yuna and Namjoon's parents, you were the only one to give a speech. You laughed at his remark. He was a jokester, wasn't he? Imagine if you'd gone out on that date with Jin instead of going home with Jungkook.

"I'm sure they wanted to save your speech for the wedding reception. I think it'd make more of an impact," you chuckled, shaking your head.

"Ah–you're probably right. That's better for me so I can charm more people," he grinned, sending a wink. He uncrossed his arms, holding his weight on the table.

You stopped to look at him. "Are you always like this?"

Jin nodded. "Yes."

You continued cleaning, and Jin helped by picking up some things.

"So...how are things with you and Jungkook?" The handsome man was intrigued by your relationship with his young friend. He'd only known Jungkook for a short period, but he grew to care for him like his brother. Jin could tell Jungkook was utterly head over heels for you. The constant pouting and groaning at work was a good indicator of his broken heart.

"Oh--um, I don't know. I haven't spoken to him for a few weeks now." You weren't lying, minus the short conversation from earlier tonight. You had kept your distance for fear of your feelings growing deeper if Jungkook became more persistent.

"I see. You should talk to him. I'd hate to see you guys not have a chance to try and work things out."

You didn't know Jin well, but you were surprised by his sudden advice. You wondered if Jungkook persuaded him to say something to you. 

"That's sweet of you, but I don't know if things will work out between us." You'd thought long and hard about the two of you. The nine-year age gap, especially with an older woman pursuing a younger man, wasn't unheard of, but it certainly wasn't common. Your mind swirled at the thought of judgmental stares and whispers. You didn't think you could handle it.

He came over and handed you a handful of clothed napkins that he was collecting. "He's not a man of many words, but he loves his job and food and you more."

After most family and friends left, you hoped Jungkook was still around. You were searching for him and bumped into Yuna.

"Hey. Are you leaving?"

"Yeah, I'm heading back with Joon."

"Okay. Have a good night," you said as you were ready to return in the other direction to find Jungkook.

The two of you had little interaction since dinner tonight. She and Namjoon were busy mingling with the crowd while you were running around like a chicken with your head cut off to ensure everything would go smoothly.

"Y/n--wait."

You stopped in your tracks, turning back around. "Yeah? What's up?"

Yuna tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Nervously, she said, "I, um, just wanted to say thank you for tonight and thank you for the speech. I know it was last minute, and I put you on the spot."

"Oh--it's fine. It was easy to whip something up about you and Namjoon. I just spoke from the heart." You loved watching your best friend fall in love. She and Namjoon were perfect together - cheesy to say, but they really did complete each other.

"...um, have you and Jungkookie decided what you guys are?"

After Namjoon knocked some sense into her, Yuna felt terrible about how she handled everything with you and Jungkook. She was too hasty and rash. She wasn’t thinking about you and everything you were going through. She was only thinking of her baby brother. So, she hoped that the two of you would work things out.

"It's been a while since I've spoken to him, but I told him I couldn't be with him because I respect our friendship and love you too much."

Yuna inched closer and took your hands in hers. "Y/n, I love you, but I can see how much this is hurting the two of you, and I can't bear seeing you guys like this. I'm sorry I overreacted and was a bitch about everything but you two deserve to see if this is worth fighting for.”

"That's what I'm scared of, Yuna. What if it doesn't work out? What if all of this was for nothing? What if I'm not everything he thought I was? What if I break his heart again?"

Your mind would always wander off to the worst possible scenarios. You had already broken Jungkook’s heart, and if the two of you tried to date and it didn’t work out? Then you’d lose both Yuna and Jungkook.

"Y/n, stop talking yourself out of it. You won't know unless you try."

"I love you. You're my best friend. I never wanted to come between you and Jungkook. I'm sorry I put you in a difficult position. I should have talked to you about it first. I was scared because I didn't know how you'd feel about us. And honestly, I'm still scared. I don't want to disappoint you or him."

"You could never disappoint me."

You looked over her shoulder as he approached you. "Jungkook…"

"I'll leave you guys. Bye." She pulled you in for a hug and whispered, "Go get 'em, tiger."

You smiled as you pulled back. Jungkook stood there with his eyes twinkling in the moonlight, his hair swooped perfectly to the side of his face, and a grin slowly spreading from ear to ear.

"Hi,” you uttered with a sheepish smile.

"Hi."

"Don't be so sure that I can't disappoint you. I think I've done that plenty recently.” You weren’t sure how many chances you’d get before you struck out.

He shook his head no and took a step closer to you. "Mm, I think you just needed some time away from us to figure out some things. Do I wish you would have kept me in the loop? Yes, but I understand."

"I don't deserve someone like you."

His hands reached to caress your cheeks, and you leaned into them. It had been so long since you'd felt his touch. You closed your eyes, savoring this sweet moment.

"Y/n, you deserve everything and more."

You softly chuckled and smiled. "You're too good to me."

Jungkook grinned. "I know."

"Never mind. I'll take it back."

"No takebacks!"

"I'm leaving then."

"That's too bad because I'm never letting you go. You're stuck with me forever."

"Forever, huh?"

He smiled and nodded. "That's if you want to."

"I guess if I'm stuck with you forever, then I should have some fun."

His eyes perked up when he heard you. "What kind of fun? Like fun, fun ?" he smirked.

"Oh god, Kook, that's the first thing you think about?"

"That's all I've been thinking about. Do you know how goddamn sexy you are?"

You rolled your eyes.

"What? And you haven't?"

"Um, I may have thought about it on occasion." You may have rubbed one out every night since he’s last touched you. He was too goddamn sexy not to think about his hands roaming all over you.

" Ohh --I see. So, should we do something about it?"

You were trying to push him away playfully, but he pulled you in closer, smiling as he locked his lips with yours. At this moment, you didn't care who was still around or who could see the two of you. You were with the one you wanted, the one you needed - encapsulated and enchanted with each other's presence. You never wanted to let go of him. Who would have thought you and your best friend's little brother?

✨ previous chapter ~ it'll never be the same

✨ next ~ epilogue

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts #jungkook x noona #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook romance #jungkook smut #bts x you #bts x reader #bts x y/n #fic: all grown up

[laequiem]

Cheek to Cheek in Hell - epilogue

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Pairing: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar

Rating: explicit

Word count: 2,860

Next to the bed, I unstrap my sword belt and let it fall to the floor in a clank of metal. When I look back at him, Cardan has straightened, his body angling towards me. “Master of Revels?” I ask innocently. “Not my consort?” “Do they have to be mutually exclusive?”

read it on ao3

Chapter 20 • Cheek to Cheek masterpost

I watched the Folk reveling from my place atop the dais. Watched as Cardan drank until he could barely stand, all the while sending lecherous glances my way. I haven’t seen him in hours, though—the fool probably passed out somewhere. I smile to myself as I push open the doors to my rooms, the guards flanking the High King’s rooms—now High Queen’s—bowing as I enter. 

Iron trinkets already litter my floor like the dullest dragon hoard. No doubt the guards carrying them up to my rooms were in a hurry to get rid of them, though they wore padded elbow-length gloves to avoid touching the metal. Still, they left a path for me to get to my bedroom without having to walk over rusty toasters and tire rims. I lift the hem of my dress as I make my way towards the bedroom, eager to wash off this paint and feel like myself again. 

Before I can even locate the bathing room, I stop, gaping. Cardan lounges on my new bed like it’s his, one arm draped over mountains of pillows. He is wearing nothing but the ridiculously fluffy robe he bought from Target—the hood pulled up over his messy curls, two triangular pieces poking from it like cat ears. His other hand disappears under the folds of his robe. I immediately look away when I see it moving, slowly, over the hard length barely hidden by his robe.

“It is cruel of you to make your humble servant wait so long, my wicked Queen,” he drawls. 

I risk another gaze at him and lock my eyes on his. I try to keep my face imperious: a raised brow, my mouth set. I can feel the blush on my cheeks, though, and he smiles as though he knows how difficult it is to ignore the lecherous movement.

 “If the guards let you in, perhaps I already need to change my staff,” I joke. “I never gave them leave to let you in.”

Cardan’s grin is wicked, “They don’t know I’m here.”

“Sneaky,” I croon. “Should I hire you as a spy?”

“Master of Revels suits me plenty,” he answers. 

I have never heard of such a title. For all I know, he made it up on the spot. Still, I make a mental note to ask the Roach. Cardan would fit in with the ragtag group of spies that make up Dain’s former Court of Shadows. He has the Bomb’s penchant for the dramatics, the Roach’s snark and he could buy the Ghost’s affections with the secrets of the palace’s wine stores. 

I stalk towards him, purposefully swaying my hips when I see that his eyes dip down to watch my advance. His tail thumps against the mattress, betraying his eagerness. 

Next to the bed, I unstrap my sword belt and let it fall to the floor in a clank of metal. When I look back at him, Cardan has straightened, his body angling towards me.

“Master of Revels?” I ask innocently. “Not my consort?”

“Do they have to be mutually exclusive?”

Cardan leans back again as I climb on the bed, the mattress shifting under my weight. When I straddle him, his tail immediately snakes under my dress, brushing against my thigh in a soft caress. 

I hum. “I suppose not.” I place a hand on his chest, around where Balekin’s sword impaled him. “How is your wound?”

“Better. Healing,” he says. 

Healing. Not healed. I lift off his chest, as my weight on him must not be helping. His hands come to cradle my waist.

“I like you above me,” he complains. 

“So do I,” I admit. “But a Queen ought to be worshiped, does she not?”

“You ought to be worshiped.” His hands idly move down my body, spreading over my hips. 

With a slight shove of his hands, he flips us around until he is on top of me. His pupils are so large, only the golden rings framing his irises are visible. He looks down at me, his eyes following the strokes of paint he drew on me. I lift a finger to trace his jaw.

“Everyone saw you kneel for me,” I tease. “Surely, that’s profane. A Prince kneeling for a human.”

I’ve teased him about this before. What would your friends think? The Prince on his knees in front of a mere mortal, I had told him, when all of this started.

“I would do it again,” Cardan vows. “If you let me, I would kneel at your feet while you sat on the throne.”

Something in my chest twists at his words and I bite my lip. I love his dramatics, his grandiose vows, but… “I would much rather have you by my side,” I reply.

“You do. For as long as you’ll have me.”

I slide a hand behind his neck and bring his face down to me. Our lips meet in what is possibly the softest kiss we’ve ever exchanged until my hand slides up to his hair and I pull lightly. He groans into my mouth and I flick my tongue against his lips. He opens for me and the kiss morphs into a desperate dance.

His mouth never leaving mine, he kicks my legs open with his knee. As soon as he settles between my legs, he grinds his erection against me, only the thin fabric of my dress between our bare skin. It’s my turn to groan, and he pulls away to nuzzle at my throat.

“You were glorious tonight, my Queen,” he whispers against that soft spot beneath my ear. “You should have seen your Council when you called the land’s power. Soon enough, they’ll be as smitten with you as I am.”

I snort at that, “I don’t think I could handle that. One of you is plenty.”

Cardan hums, running a hand up my side. Slowly, he hooks a finger under the fabric barely hiding my breast and slides it away. His mouth moves down my throat, leaving a trail of kisses in its wake. I look down when I feel his breath against my breast, only to find him staring at me. With a grin, he licks up the slope of my breast to the tip of my nipple, smudging the gold paint. He keeps his eyes locked to mine as he brings his mouth to my nipple, sucking it once before giving it a quick flick of his tongue.

His onslaught continues as he moves to my other breast, freeing it from the dress and smearing the paint on that one, too. He nibbles and sucks at the skin, leaving love bites when he gets too carried away. When he finally moves lower down, his chin is covered in the golden paint, his hair highlighted with sparkling glitter where it brushed against my skin.

Flat on his stomach, Cardan squeezes my thighs and parts them, then brings a hand to my folds and parts those, too, leaving me fully exposed to him. 

“So pretty,” he breathes right before bringing his mouth to my core. 

I swear, bucking against his mouth until he has to pin me down with a hand on my stomach. He starts with broad strokes, but soon enough isn’t satisfied with my reactions and sucks on my clitoris, flicks it, lets his teeth graze it—until I’m panting and clutching at the sheets.

“Car—fuck, you’re so good at this,” I mewl.

I think I can feel him smirk against me. His tail gives a flick, as if it started moving on its own and he had to will it to stop. When I bury my fingers in his hair and pull, he rewards me by bringing a finger to my entrance, teasing, not quite entering. I groan, my core aching for it. Craving it. When did I start craving something inside me? It was never something I cared for before—if I needed to get myself off, to relax, my fingers on my bud were more than enough, but not anymore. I feel myself trudging towards that blissful edge, but I ache for more.

“Want more?” he asks, as if he knows how desperate I am. Of course he knows.

I pull his hair harder. “I’m not going to beg you.”

With a chuckle, he plunges two fingers inside me. Again, my hips buck and again, he pushes me back down into the mattress. He keeps his eyes on mine as he puts his mouth against my clit again and sucks. It’s all I needed. I scream his name as my orgasm plummets into me, clutching at his hair, at the sheets, until he has mercy on me and his mouth leaves my core.

He slides his fingers out of me and, when I finally look down at him, keeps his eyes on mine as he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean, his tongue sliding between his middle finger and ring finger in a lewd gesture that has me blushing. It’s only then that I notice his hands are back to being perfectly groomed, most nails filed into points except for the blunt tips of the two he is lewdly sucking on. 

“Was this enough for you, Your Majesty?” he jests.

I grab hold of the front of his robe and yank. He tumbles onto me and I capture his mouth in a kiss. It’s titillating, the way I taste myself on his tongue. It’s indecent, it’s shameless, it’s… sensual. Cardan runs his hand through my hair, careful of the messy tangles created by our previous activities.

I bite his lip as we part, then smirk. “You know it’s not. Remove that ridiculous robe and get on with it.”

“At your service, my Queen,” he replies, batting his eyelashes.

He digs into one of the pockets of his robe and pulls out a condom packet. I almost roll my eyes at how prepared he is, until I remember the glances he was throwing with me at the revel and how I found him here, his hand on his cock. Instead, I blush. I lost sight of him hours ago, has he been here all that time, teasing, edging himself? No–he clearly took hours to prepare. There is the matter of his hands, sure, but being back in the palace clearly gave him all the tools he needed to be preen himself back to regal perfection. His brows are plucked, his lashes unfairly long and perfectly curled. No hint of stubble anywhere–all the places where hair grew during our time in the mortal realm are now silky smooth. 

Next to him, I must look like a wild animal, but he makes no comment on it, nor does he seem to notice. 

Cardan tears the packet with his teeth and slides the condom out. I watch, transfixed, as he rolls it down his length. Then, he shrugs out of his robe and throws it to the floor. 

When he positions himself above me again, he slides his hard length over my folds, coating himself in my wetness and his own spit. The head of his cock pokes my entrance. Given how wet I am, he’ll have no trouble sliding in, and yet—he stops there.

I frown up at him, but he’s not looking at me. He’s searching the room for something. Just as I am about to ask him what the fuck he’s waiting for, he stretches his lean body over me to grab something. When he is back in position, he presses something cold and hard into my hand, closing my fist over it. He brings my hand to his throat and I see it, the dagger he got me for my birthday, carved with his name. He angles my hand so that the sharp edge is against his throat, then lets go.

“Are you sure?” I ask him.

He nods shallowly, just enough that the blade digs in his skin and he sighs, rocking his hips ever so slightly. 

“Fuck me, then,” I order, my voice coming off more confident than I thought it would. 

He braces a hand against the mattress, right next to my shoulder, and burrows in so, so slowly. We both gasp when he bottoms out, his hips flush against mine. I wrap my legs against his hips and we both exhale simultaneously, unprepared for the way he suddenly felt so much deeper. Still, he stays motionless, so I move the dagger, scraping the edge of his Adam’s apple as though I was shaving him.

“Move,” I order. 

His throat bobs as he swallows and then he moves, barely slipping out as he rolls his hips, shifting. It is technically a trust, just enough that he can say that he did, in fact, move. 

“Cardan,” I warn.

He looks at me with the most innocent look I have never seen on his face. Cardan is not innocent, I have never seen him innocent—his family ensured I never would, drilling wickedness and pride into him with contempt and a whip. When he rocks his hips again, he can’t hide the upward tug of his lips, the smug delight peeking through. 

I move the blade so the point of it is against his chin and lift it, making him have to stretch his neck uncomfortably to still look at me. 

“I asked you to fuck me, not make love to me,” I hiss. 

I see the blow land before I even realize I’ve dealt it, when he frowns and his mouth drops open ever so slightly. I was only trying to be… sexy. Dominant, I suppose, but I have no experience with these things. 

“Shit. I didn’t mean—” I start, but he interrupts me.

“With you,” he replies, “they’ve always been one and the same.”

I pull the dagger away, wanting to reach for him and … I don’t know, embrace him? Kiss him? Show him that I do love him, without saying the words that I don’t know how or when to say. Before the blade can leave his throat, however, he grabs my wrist and pulls it right back to where it was.

“Show me how much you love me,” I say, a little quietly. “Show me until I can’t remember that I hate you.”

I jump as his tail comes to brush against my ankle, just before wrapping around it. As if to reassure me, when I should be the one reassuring him. Then he shifts, pulling out of me. He unwraps my legs from around his waist, only to hook my knees over his elbows. When he pushes into me again, he puts all of his weight in the movement, pressing my legs back against me as he leans his whole weight against me. The leftover gold dust on his chest mixes with the paint that the lower courts used to draw on my legs. With every plunge of his length in me, the paint gets more and more smudged, mud and blood and gold paint blending to paint him into a filthy tableau of debauchery. 

A hand finds my breast and he kneads the flesh before squeezing hard, his nails leaving half-moon indentations in my skin. I reach up for his hair again, pulling him to me. His lips are inches from mine, the dagger between us.

“I wish I had said it earlier. Days ago,” I say against his lips, keeping him only far enough that he can’t kiss me. “Weeks ago. But I love you, Cardan.”

Then, knowing the dagger will dig against his skin, I kiss him. Cardan moans into my mouth, but the threat of the dagger doesn’t hinder me. He kisses me back like he needs my breath to live. It’s messy, all tongues and teeth. 

 When he pulls away, I see blood pooling from a small scratch. I throw the dagger to the floor and bring my mouth to his neck, licking up the blood.

 Cardan’s thrusts falter and I feel him throbbing inside me. He swears, driving into me harder than before. He lets go of one of my legs to slide a hand to my core. With quick, clumsy flicks of his fingers against my clit, I come again. Before I have time to scream once more, he kisses me, keeping the sound of his name to himself. We kiss for what feels like minutes, hours, days, the kiss turning from passionate to lazy, tired kisses. Until it is nothing more than the pressure of his lips against mine, both of us smiling into each other’s mouth.

We don’t really part, he mostly just slumps until he’s all but laying on top of me, dark curls draped over the skin of my chest as his face is pressed between my breasts.

“Stay by my side,” I plead softly.

“I’m not going anywhere, this is too comfortable,” he mumbles, nibbling at a breast.

I flick his head and he looks up, smirking. 

“I’m serious,” I insist. “If I’m doing this whole… High Queen thing, I want to do it with you. Together.”

Cardan reaches for my hand and squeezes my fingers.

“Together,” he agrees.

#the folk of the air #tfota #jurdan #judecardan #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte

[kingofbodyrolls]

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

🐴Chapter summary: When Mikrokosmos goes missing, you don’t know what to do and when Jimin suddenly starts talking to you, wanting to help find your horse, you’re not sure if you should accept or not. When you can’t find Mikrokosmos and have to spend a night with Jimin in the wide open land, will old feelings bloom? 🐴Chapter title: The First Touch 🐴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; sex in public (they are outside in nature by themselves), oral (both male and female receiving), very very brief anal play (female receiving), nipple play, hair pulling, sweet/dirty talk, pet name (babe), cock warming, multiple orgasms, a loooooooot of kissing (so much that it should be illegal), just very slow and tender love making. Jimin is very gentle, but he is also a devil 👿 🐴Status: completed (the epilogue is in the works!) 🐴Word count: 16.4k (whoopps, but it’s smut!)

🐴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 💿 “The First Touch” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: hello, how are you doing? After weeks of leaving you high and dry and potentially crying, I finally come bearing a gift in the form of slow and sensual smut. I really hope you love it, otherwise, shame on you (I’m sorry I just really love it, and it will get dirtier later (yes, that was more smut promised!)). This chapter was so fucking fun to write, and can you belive I wrote it in a day? The last three previous chapters have been harder to write, because they were more angsty, but this, oh dear god, when I write smut and fluff, the words just flows differently 🥰 So I really hope that you enjoy this, I ended up turning myself on with the smut, so yeah… I hope that means that it is good, please let me know okay???

And I am so sorry for all the angst I put you through, if you need therapy like me, send me the bill, okay? 🥹 We also finally get some answers to Jimin’s behavior the last chapters!! I really hope you enjoy, and I hope you haven’t given up on this series 😭

PSA! For the ultimate reading experience, I recommend grabbing a warm blanket and something nice to drink (whatever you like; water, tea, cocoa etc) 🫂

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

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

“When I finally touch you Soft upon your skin You travel to the heart of me And so it begins” - ‘The First Touch’ by Rebecca Lavelle

You find yourself yearning for the ground to swallow you whole. The aftermath of the gala weighs heavily on your mind, and you’ve been evading Jimin ever since. Anger still lingers, but embarrassment overshadows it. Why on earth did you let yourself unleash such a torrent of emotions on him?

You release a frustrated groan, urging Marshmallow to stretch his stride, his powerful hooves churning up the earth beneath. The wind whips through your hair, carrying with it the anticipation of your imminent arrival at Bell Ranch.

Praying to avoid any encounter with Jimin or his undoubtedly furious girlfriend, you navigate the winding path to Bell Ranch with a knot of apprehension in your stomach. The thought of further embarrassment looms over you like a storm cloud, urging you to keep a low profile and escape unscathed.

Marshmallow ambles toward the pen, Yoongi immersed in his labor. Presently, his focus is on a horse adorned with a tapestry of brown and white spots, each stroke of his skilled hands an intimate dance with the wild spirit captured within the creature’s untamed gaze.

You bring Marshmallow to a stop, securing the reins to the fence, before settling into your customary perch. From this vantage point, you observe Yoongi, his hands orchestrating a ballet with the untamed energy of the horse.

Suddenly, a stir in the vicinity of the house catches your attention, prompting you to shift your gaze. There, you spot Jimin making his way toward you, an unusual limp in his stride suggesting he might have overexerted himself today. Despite the evident fatigue, he’s adorned in a button-down shirt, sleeves casually rolled up, revealing the golden hue of his skin and the well-defined contours of his biceps. A gentle breeze plays with his blonde locks as he traverses the yard.

A curiosity nags at you as you observe Jimin’s solitary figure, wondering about the absence of Deiji and the distant expression etched across his face, brows knit in contemplation. The air seems to carry the weight of his thoughts, leaving you to ponder what might be troubling him. Just as you’re caught in this web of speculation, the abrupt roar of an engine pierces the air, drawing your attention. Swiftly, Jimin mounts his blue dirt bike, tearing out of the yard with an intensity that propels him over hills and into the expanse of a distant paddock.

He’s likely headed off to some task, a sentiment that resonates with your own responsibilities awaiting attention. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you shift your gaze back to Yoongi, his tender gestures toward the spotted horse capturing a moment of tranquility amidst the ranch’s bustling routine.

Yoongi’s playful grin widens as he teases, well aware that your attention involuntarily drifted towards Jimin once more. “How are you doing?”

A light chuckle escapes you. “Well, hanging in there. Just grappling with the lingering sense of embarrassment, you know?”

He erupts into laughter, the kind that reveals his gums and sets his chest into a hearty jiggle. “Got it. I heard Jimin’s girlfriend was less than thrilled with your little performance at the gala.”

You scoff, indifferent about his opinion. Regret lingers for your harsh words, a realization that an apology is overdue—a bridge you’ve yet to cross.

“I understand, but I was just so mad, and I couldn’t hold back,” you admit, your scuffed tone matching the internal storm that rages within, hands tightly clenched atop your legs.

“It’s alright. I don’t think Jimin minds. You’ve given him plenty to ponder,” he mentions, continuing to pat the spotted horse. Your raised eyebrow prompts him to elaborate.

“What do you mean?” you ask, curiosity sparking in your eyes, eager to understand his insinuation.

“The house has been unusually quiet since the gala. Maybe Jimin has taken your words to heart?” he suggests, eyebrows dancing in speculation. You scoff, skeptical of such a notion.

“Let’s shift the conversation, shall we? I’m done with Jimin,” you declare, though a part of you acknowledges that you’re far from finished with the unresolved tension. Uncertain whether you should approach Jimin – preferably without yelling this time – or wait for him to make the first move, you consider extending an apology to both him and Deiji.

Yoongi chuckles, orchestrating a rhythmic dance with the spotted horse as they traverse the pen at a leisurely pace. “Sure,” he replies with a hint of amusement in his voice.

A heavy sigh escapes you, and a pregnant pause lingers, only to be broken by Yoongi’s next words.

“I have a date with Hobi,” he announces, a radiant smile gracing his face, yet beneath the joy, a subtle tremor betrays a touch of nervous anticipation in his voice.

A grin spreads across your face, mirroring your genuine excitement. “That’s fantastic!” 

Your enthusiasm bubbles over, revealing just how genuinely thrilled you are for him.

Your eyes light up with genuine joy as you congratulate him, “I’m so happy for you, Yoon.” Your smile reflects the warmth and sincerity of your words.

A playful glint in his eyes, he teases, “Thank you, I’ll tell you how it goes.”

Anticipation bubbles within you, eager to hear the tales of their date, whenever they get to have it. As your thoughts wander, a silent wish lingers in the recesses of your mind—hoping for a touch of joy not just for Yoongi but for yourself as well, because you both deserve it, dammit.

“Are you ready to get Mikrokosmos home?” Yoongi’s question jolts you from your daydreams, nudging your focus back to reality. You silently curse yourself for entertaining thoughts about how their date would go and then your mind instantly wanders to sex. Damn, you really need to get laid. Why does your mind always have to go there?

You laugh nervously, your excitement bubbling to the surface. “Absolutely! I can’t wait to welcome Mikrokosmos home at last.”

“I’ll wrap things up here, and then we can ride her home together, sound good?” he suggests, a hopeful smile lighting up his face. You eagerly nod; a ride with the wind in your hair always has a way of soothing your heart.

As Yoongi wraps up his work with the spotted horse, coaxing it into accepting the halter, you watch attentively. Once done, he opens the gate, guiding the horse into a paddock. Together, you make your way to the stables to saddle up Mikrokosmos.

With unwavering patience, you nuzzle Mikrokosmos gently as you expertly fit the bridle and saddle onto her. Leading her out of the barn, you make your way down to the pen where Marshmallow awaits, tethered to the fence.

“Mind if I take Marshmallow? Later, Soo-ah or Ara can give me a ride home,” he proposes, deftly unfastening the reins from the fence. With a fluid motion, he swings one leg over Marshmallow’s sturdy back, securing himself in the saddle.

With a nod, you replicate the motion with Mikrokosmos. Grasping the stirrup, you press your weight onto your foot, smoothly swinging your body over the black mare’s back. A soft, airy whinny escapes her as you settle into the saddle.

“Let’s go!” you exclaim with enthusiasm, gently pressing your legs against Mikrokosmos’s side. She eases into a lazy canter before bursting into a steady gallop. Yoongi follows in your wake, and together, you ride over the hills, the sun casting a warm glow on your skin. In companionable silence, you savor the moment, connecting with nature and the rhythmic pulse of the horses beneath you.

Your heart races within your chest as you revel in the sensation of riding Mikrokosmos. Her movements feel like a dance, as if she’s carrying you to extraordinary places. Today, that destination is home. The anticipation builds as you look forward to having your horse with you at last. Countless hours of hard work have led to this moment, and the thought of bringing her home fills you with excitement and satisfaction.

The wind gently tousles your hair as you grip the reins, relishing the familiar sensation of freedom while riding. There’s a profound joy in being so intimately connected with nature. This feeling, the rush of wind, the rhythmic gait of the horse—it’s something you’ve truly missed. Since your dad took you away from the ranch, you’ve felt the absence keenly. Now, as you ride, you’re determined to reclaim everything you lost, to rediscover the simple yet profound joys that the ranch offers.

In no time, you and Yoongi arrive back at the familiar embrace of home. Guiding your horses up to the barn, you expertly stow them away, each finding comfort in their respective stalls.

As you and Yoongi make your way to the house, the air is suddenly pierced by the thunderous roar of an engine. Turning, you spot Jungkook’s sleek bike charging into the yard, your sister snugly positioned behind him. With a smooth halt, he steadies the bike, kicking the stand into place and plants his boots on the ground, unveiling his disheveled black hair as he removes the helmet. Following suit, Jessi frees her own brown locks, letting them playfully dance around her face in the breeze, a tandem display of casual grace as the bike’s engine settles into a quiet hum.

Your hand rises in a friendly wave, reciprocated by the warm smiles adorning both Jungkook and Jessi’s faces as they draw near.

“Hi,” resonates in perfect harmony from both, your sister’s fingers intimately intertwined with Jungkook’s. A twinge of happiness for them pulls at your heart, yet it’s hard not to let a tinge of personal sadness creep in as well.

Yoongi strolls up to Jungkook, nodding toward the bike, “Mind if I borrow that to ride home, in case you’re crashing here?”

Jungkook laughs and gives a casual nod, “Sure thing. Jessi’s playing chauffeur for me tomorrow.”

Yoongi grins with satisfaction, sharing a quick hug and bidding you farewell. He hops onto the dirt bike, revving the engine to life, the sound echoing through the air.

You stand there, watching as Yoongi rides off into the distance, a cloud of dust rising in his wake, the roar of the engine gradually fading into the peaceful surroundings.

“I’m going to grab a quick snack before dinner, do you want some?” You cast a casual glance toward your sister and Jungkook as you leisurely make your way toward the house.

“As long as it’s a sandwich, count me in,” Jungkook chuckles, with your sister in tow. The duo follows you into the house and converges in the kitchen. Opening the fridge, you survey the available ingredients for sandwich-making. Jungkook and Jessi settle at the small table on the side, eagerly anticipating the creation of the culinary delights.

You retrieve the bread, butter, and a medley of ham and cheese from the fridge. Your hands move with a rhythmic grace, deftly assembling the ingredients, all the while humming the sweet melody of a love song that resonates in the air.

“Have you talked with Jimin since the gala?”Jungkook’s question punctures the air, shattering the peaceful rhythm of your sandwich-making. The ingredients lay untouched as you turn your attention to him, his words echoing in the kitchen.

Without turning away from the task at hand, you respond to Jungkook’s inquiry, your voice laced with a mix of uncertainty and a tinge of regret. “No, and I’m not sure he even wants to talk to me after everything that happened.”

As you continue working, your back facing Jungkook and your sister, you sense his understanding nod and his voice carries a gentle insistence. “I really think you should talk to him this time.”

You pivot, your eyes locking onto Jungkook, a giant question mark etched across your face. 

“Why?” You inquire, curiosity and a hint of reluctance evident in your expression.

A sly smirk lingers on his lips, aggravating you further. The infuriating knowledge he possesses irks you to no end. “I think he has something to tell you,” he teases, and you find yourself caught between irritation and curiosity. A sarcastic chuckle escapes your lips as you refocus on the sandwiches, allowing the knife to slice through them, the sharp blade echoing your conflicted emotions.

“Here,” you offer, presenting Jungkook with a plate laden with half a dozen sandwiches, though your sister politely declines any.

You snatch one for yourself, shooting a casual yet meaningful glance back at them, “Enjoy.”

Savoring each bite of the sandwich, you ascend the stairs to your bedroom, where your eyes linger on the canvas mounted on the easel. The palette has shifted, with softer tones emerging – hints of pink intermingling with delicate whites and purples, forming a composition reminiscent of a blossoming cherry tree.

Sinking into the soft embrace of your bed, a cascade of thoughts floods your mind. The weight of an overdue apology to Jimin and his girlfriend hangs over you, a lingering echo from the turbulent gala. Yet, Jungkook’s mysterious hint at something he knows adds an intriguing layer to your contemplation. Recognizing the need for resolution, you resolve to extend the olive branch of an apology first, aiming to pave the way for a more composed and genuine conversation with Jimin. The anticipation of what both interactions might unveil stirs within you, pushing you to take the first step towards reconciliation.

In an unexpected twist of events, you drift into an unplanned slumber, the embrace of sleep enveloping you so thoroughly that dinner becomes a distant echo. No one ventures to rouse you, and you awaken later on your bed, a half-eaten sandwich still clutched in your hand. The rhythmic resonance of hooves reverberates, drawing you to the window. A herd of wild horses, led by the imposing brown stallion, unfolds in the yard, remarkably close. Its flaring nostrils and challenging hoof scratches paint a vivid picture of defiance. Despite the intriguing spectacle, weariness tugs at you as you wearily retreat to your bed.

A disquieting sensation grips you, seeping into the very marrow of your bones and settling like a heavy stone in the pit of your stomach. An unsettling intuition whispers that things are amiss, and you can’t shake the ominous feeling that something, somewhere, has gone terribly wrong.

Emerging from your bed, your hair a tousled bird’s nest, you scan the room, finding the familiar unchanged. In the bathroom, the routine of brushing your teeth provides a momentary distraction as foam swells in your mouth, only to be expelled and washed away. The warm shower cascades over you, but an indefinable unease persists. Hastily drying off, you return to your room, donning a shirt and pants with urgency. Boots secured, hat in hand, you bound down the stairs, a sense of urgency propelling each step.

Entering the kitchen, a picture of concern greets you — Jungkook, your sister, Soo-ah, Ara, and Ha-rin all wear furrowed brows, leaving you bewildered as to the unfolding situation.

“What’s happened?” You urgently inquire, your voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and foreboding, a silent acknowledgment that your unsettling intuition might have been onto something significant.

“The herd of wild horses were here last night,” Jungkook informs, a flicker of annoyance crossing his gaze as it shifts from your sister to you.

“Half of the horses are missing,” she exclaims, her voice tinged with frustration, a deep sigh escaping her. You stand there, gaping at them, a sinking feeling settling in. Half of the horses gone? The implications of this revelation weigh heavily on your mind, leaving you bewildered and searching for answers.

“How in the world are half of the horses missing?” you demand, furrowing your brows in disbelief. Nausea churns in your stomach as you contemplate which horses might be gone, a sense of urgency and worry gripping your every thought.

In a calm voice, Ha-rin explains, “It was the stallion. He kicked down the fence, and the horses bolted…”

You nod solemnly. Yoongi’s cautionary words about the troublesome stallion echo in your mind.

Your voice trembles with fear as you ask, “Which paddock?”

Jessi’s voice drops, “The East paddock,” she says, her anger seeping into every word as she sinks into a chair.

Realization crashes over you like a tidal wave. After stalling Mikrokosmos for the night, you released her into that same East paddock for some freedom—whatever freedom a fenced enclosure could offer. Oh, no. Could Mikrokosmos be among the missing horses?

“Mikrokosmos?” The word escapes your lips, a desperate plea wrapped in the echo of your worst fears. You don’t need them to confirm it; the sinking weight in your chest tells you everything. The truth is etched across their faces, mirroring the dread that’s settled in your bones since you woke up.

Fury courses through Jessi’s words as she spits out the painful truth, “She’s gone too, along with some of the other mares.” Her hand crashes down on the table, a symphony of anger and frustration. Jungkook steps in, his calming touch a feeble attempt to soothe the storm unleashed.

Hatred drips from Jessi’s words like venom as she rages, “That’s why I hate those damn wild animals! Always stealing our horses. That stallion probably wanted Mikrokosmos back…” Her words pierce the air, causing an uncomfortable twist in your stomach. Is she implying this is somehow your fault?

You begin to protest, “I didn’t have anything to do with this,” but Jessi dismisses your words with a quick and dismissive wave.

“I don’t think you did. I’m not blaming you. I’m just furious at that wretched stallion,” she explains, her anger palpable and raw, but there’s a softer edge to her words too.

It’s a relief to know she doesn’t pin this on you, that you’re not burdened with the blame. A soft sigh escapes your lips.

“So, what’s the plan then?” You inquire, scanning the faces in the crowded kitchen, a sense of urgency in your voice.

“We need to mend that fence, Jungkook, can we count on you for help?” Your sister implores, turning to him with a hopeful expression. He responds with a firm nod and a reassuring grip on her shoulder.

“Of course.”

“Feel free to track down the wild horses and check if you can locate them. Unfortunately, we’re short-handed today,” your sister suggests, rising from her seat and gazing out the window.

“No worries. I’ll head over to Yoongi and see if he can spare some time to join me,” you assure them with a gentle smile. Beneath the surface, a mix of sadness and frustration bubbles as you long for Mikrokosmos to return.

With determined steps, you rush out of the house and bound up to the stables, the urgency echoing in your every movement. In the quiet embrace of the stable, Marshmallow awaits, his presence a comforting balm to your racing thoughts. Swiftly, you open the door, embracing him in a soft hug before gearing him up with a bridle and saddle. Together, you emerge from the barn, and with a decisive leap, you saddle up, urging Marshmallow into a gallop, heading towards the Bell ranch with determination in your heart.

The wind tenderly weaves through your hair once more, a melancholic symphony echoing the turbulence within. Fueled by a potent mix of sorrow and frustration, your heart clenches with a resolute desire to reclaim what’s rightfully yours. Your grip tightens around the reins, a silent vow etched in your clenched fists, urging Marshmallow to race faster, the earth stirs in a tumultuous dance beneath his thundering hooves.

The pen materializes on the horizon, and there, amidst the rhythmic ballet of wild horses, you spy Yoongi immersed in his labor. Urging Marshmallow to a thunderous gallop, you charge towards the pen. With an abrupt tug on the reins, the air fills with the gritty harmony of skidding hooves as Marshmallow halts, an abrupt punctuation that seizes Yoongi’s attention. Descending from Marshmallow, you plant your feet on the ground with a flourish, the dust settling around you like a curtain call.

“What’s wrong?” He queries, a flicker of concern lighting up his features, as your uncharacteristic entrance sends ripples of tension through the air. 

“The damn stallion,” you seethe, your breaths punctuated with fury, “he’s run off with Mikrokosmos.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen in shock, but without hesitation, he declares, “I’ll help you search for her.” You nod in gratitude as he leads his brown horse out of the pen, and you guide Marshmallow to the stables, anticipation coursing through both of you.

Prepared and determined, you and Yoongi lead your horses by the reins out to the yard, a shared sense of urgency fueling your quest to find Mikrokosmos.

Yoongi gathers the reins in his hand and directs your focus to the task at hand, “We’ll start looking at the Eastern paddock, okay?” Just as the urgency builds, Jimin emerges from his house, adding an unexpected twist to the unfolding events. You shoot him a questioning look as he stands before you, curiosity and apprehension blending in your gaze.

“What are you up to?” Jimin questions, catching both you and Yoongi off guard. The unexpectedness of his inquiry leaves you standing there, dumbfounded, your shared silence reflecting the tension that lingers between you and Jimin.

“The wild stallion snatched Mikrokosmos last night; we’re going to search for her,” Yoongi explains, his voice filled with urgency, his movements swift as he places his foot in the stirrup and gracefully swings his body over the horse’s back. The gravity of the situation hangs heavy, and you can feel the collective determination to retrieve your horse cutting through the morning air.

“I can help,” Jimin offers, his voice carrying a light and airy tone that catches you off guard. You stare at him, momentarily questioning your senses—did he really just say that? The unexpected offer hangs in the air, and you’re left wondering what might be going on in his mind.

Yoongi and you both fixate on him, and Jimin responds with a soft chuckle, the contours of his chest subtly moving beneath his shirt.

“I can assist. That way, Yoongi can focus on his tasks,” he suggests, approaching Yoongi and motioning for him to dismount so they can swap positions. Yoongi glances at you, seeking approval for the change. Meanwhile, you continue to stare blankly at both Yoongi and Jimin. The situation feels oddly surreal—Jimin offering to help you search for your horse, especially considering the tense silence since the heated exchange at the gala. This ride might just turn out to be the most awkward one of your life.

“Sure,” Yoongi concedes, dismounting from the horse. He hands the reins to Jimin, who skillfully collects them in his hands. With a swift motion, Jimin places his boot in the stirrup and swings his body over the horse, mirroring Yoongi’s earlier move.

Silent as a shadow, you remain grounded, words held captive within the walls of your thoughts.

With a subtle tug on the reins, Jimin redirects the horse, casting a teasing glance your way, “Are you coming or what?”

Jimin’s playful remark snaps you back to the present, and without a second thought, you slip your foot into the stirrup, effortlessly swinging your leg over Marshmallow’s back.

You trail behind Jimin, bidding farewell to Yoongi, who lingers with a knowing smile. Silently cursing him for abandoning you in the company of Jimin, you brace for the imminent awkwardness. Despite the uncertainty, the urgency of finding Mikrokosmos eclipses any reservations—you’re grateful for any help that might lead to her return.

Jimin confidently guides his horse, setting the pace as you both return to your ranch. The eastern paddock looms ahead, where Jungkook and Jessi ardently mend the broken fence. Their curious gazes lock onto you, expecting Yoongi but finding Jimin at your side instead.

Venturing deeper into the forest, the towering trees cast a verdant embrace around you. Silence hangs heavy between you and Jimin, a palpable tension that begs to be shattered. It dawns on you that speaking up might be the only way to dispel this awkward atmosphere before it becomes a permanent fixture.

Amidst the rustling leaves and dappled sunlight, you finally muster the courage to break the awkward silence. “I’ve been meaning to say, I’m sincerely sorry about the gala. I hope my words didn’t cross a line with you or upset Deiji too much,” you confess, your gaze sweeping through the foliage in search of any sign of the elusive wild horses.

His laughter dances through the air, a warm melody amid the rustling leaves. “It’s fine. Did it feel good getting off your chest?”

A subtle blush graces your cheeks, and you admit, “It did. I’m still sorry, though. Sorry that your girlfriend had to hear that, and for pointing at her like that.”

You release a soft sigh, reminiscing about the regrettable way you conducted yourself.

He laughs again, the sound echoing like sweet melodies in your ears, yet the mystery behind his continuous laughter leaves you utterly perplexed.

“She did not like it,” he starts, weaving his words with the rustling leaves as you venture into uncharted territory beneath the expansive canopy of a towering, ancient tree.

“I deeply regret my words and actions,” you offer in earnest, the weight of remorse evident in your voice.

“It’s fine. We actually broke up,” his words hang in the air, a revelation that jolts you, and you swivel your head towards him so swiftly you fear a case of emotional whiplash.

Your words tumble out rapidly, laced with uncertainty, as you press him for answers, “You broke up? Why?” The shifting dynamics between you two send your heart racing, and the reins in your sweaty palms seem to tighten with anticipation.

In a hushed tone, he reveals, “She was tired of being compared to you.” 

His voice carries a soft, steady cadence, devoid of anger, as though he’s entrusted you with a profound secret. He turns to face you, a gentle smile playing on his lips, revealing his slightly crooked teeth. His eyes disappear behind lowered eyelids as he adds, “She isn’t you.”

A suspended moment, as if time itself hesitates, your heart momentarily halts its rhythmic dance within your chest. Breath catches, and for a beat, you’re left in breathless suspension—did he truly utter those words? The weight of his revelation seeps into your weary frame, and a blossoming warmth unfurls within your chest. The air lightens, the sun bestows its gentle touch on your skin, and you find yourself smiling at him, words caught in the surge of emotions.

“I also had a conversation with Yoongi,” he reveals, and you find yourself gaping in astonishment. The horses have settled into a leisurely walk, a welcome reprieve as you grapple with the influx of information, making it nearly impossible to focus on the ride.

“He mentioned the kiss,” he confesses, and you detect a glimmer of pain in his eyes. Yet, it doesn’t weigh as heavily as it once did; there’s a newfound lightness in his demeanor as he continues, “Yoongi explained that he’s gay, and that the kiss was merely a friendly gesture.”

You nod, each word he utters peeling away layers of weight from your shoulders. It’s precisely the message you’ve been struggling to convey all along. However, you hesitated to betray Yoongi’s confidence by revealing it. Yet, confessing to Hoseok about Yoongi’s feelings for him seemed to work wonders, paving the way for their upcoming date.

“That’s what I desperately wanted to convey that day, you know... but you slammed the door shut in my face,” you confess, a tinge of sorrow sweeping over your heart at the memory of the pain etched on Jimin’s face that day. While you comprehend the source of his hurt and anger, the lingering confusion remains about why he refused to engage in conversation or hear your side of the story.

“I’m sorry. I was just so hurt at the time. Later, when I noticed how close you were to Yoongi, I jumped to conclusions and assumed you were dating him,” he chuckles, the sound carrying a tinge of sadness as he reminisces about the past. “Fortunately, he clarified things for me, assuring me that you two are just friends and always have been.”

“That’s right. We’re just best friends. Honestly, he’s like the annoying brother I never asked for,” you chuckle, a weight lifting off your shoulders. Yet, an indescribable sensation begins to bloom within your chest, a mix of warmth and tingles, leaving you intrigued by its unfamiliar presence.

“I’m so sorry. I really should have talked to you and listened. I’m so sorry.” As Jimin utters his apology, his voice echoes with remorse, a melody of regret that resonates within you. It’s a bittersweet symphony, soothing to finally hear, yet you ponder the missed opportunities for dialogue that could have averted the storm unleashed by this stupid mistake and now your recent outburst. The apology, though overdue, forms a bridge between you, and you find solace in the fact that, at last, you stand on the same side of understanding. 

“I had hoped for you to listen back then as well. But, let’s leave the echoes of the past behind, shall we?” Your suggestion carries the weight of anticipation, a sense of hopeful exploration into uncharted territories. He nods in agreement, yet a palpable silence, thick with the unsaid, envelops you both. The journey continues in quietude, but within that stillness, you sense the unspoken words echoing in the lingering gaze of his brown eyes, a silent conversation that paints the canvas of possibility.

As twilight descends and the hours in the saddle accumulate, your fatigue is etched into the soreness of your seat. The weariness must surely weigh on Jimin too, his body silently protesting the prolonged ride. Amidst the encroaching darkness, Mikrokosmos remains elusive, a mystery yet to unfold, and the elusive presence of the wild horses eludes your diligent search.

Frustration settles over you like a heavy cloak, and an audible sigh escapes your lips, carrying the weight of your disappointment. Just as the gloom threatens to deepen, a rebellious rumble emanates from your stomach, capturing Jimin’s attention and coaxing a playful laugh from him.

“Hungry?” His question, a beacon of concern, draws a nod from you, and you respond by absently rubbing your stomach as if coaxing it to silence the persistent growls of hunger.

As the undeniable pangs of hunger echo through your stomach, you admit with a rueful tone, “I forgot to eat before we left,” the regret audible in your voice.

In a gentle yet scolding tone, he remarks, “That’s not good, you know. It’s important to eat.” Leaning towards you, he suggests, “I think we should call it a day and head back. It’s getting late anyway.”

As you nod, a flicker of disappointment crosses your face. The elusive search for Mikrokosmos remains unfulfilled today. Yet, a spark of hope ignites within you as you remind yourself, there’s always tomorrow, right?

“Then you can get something to eat, a good night’s sleep and then I’ll pick you up tomorrow and we can continue the search?” His soft smile and warm, glowing brown eyes captivate you, quickening your heartbeat. With a hopeful nod, you sense something stirring deep within your stomach — a sensation that goes beyond hunger, something akin to the birth of hope.

The rhythmic tapping on your door pulls you from slumber, and you respond with a drowsy yet receptive, “Yes?”

You emit a groan of protest as the door inches open, revealing a fully alert Jimin. Clad in a snug white tee, its slight transparency inadvertently exposing the soft hue of his pink nipples, you chide yourself for letting your gaze linger. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you note his dark blue jeans, strategically torn at the knees, leaving you curious if it’s a deliberate fashion choice or a result of untamed adventures. His hands nonchalantly find refuge in his pockets, drawing your attention to the pronounced veins that traverse his arms, subtly visible in the soft light of dawn.

As you rise from your bed, a sudden awareness floods your mind, recalling the choice of your sleepwear—a camisole paired with shorts that might be deemed too short for comfort. Hastily, you reach for the duvet, intending to conceal a portion of your body, only to inadvertently accentuate the contours of your chest. The fabric presses against your breasts, and you can’t help but notice the subtle shift in his gaze, his eyes lingering on the unintended display of cleavage.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he chuckles, advancing deeper into your room. His gaze sweeps across the array of your personal belongings, lingering on the easel in the corner adorned with a painting bursting with vibrant hues— a stark contrast to your previous, darker works. Despite your eye roll, you pull yourself out of bed, allowing the duvet to cascade from your body. In that moment, you sense his eyes tracing every contour of your nearly naked form.

“Just a minute,” you reply, swiftly retrieving a t-shirt and pants from your closet, tossing them onto the bed. Jimin’s gaze lingers on you, a subtle intensity that sets your hair on fire, the air thick with an indescribable energy. “Mind if I take a shower first?” you ask, breaking the charged silence.

He chuckles, running a hand through his tousled blonde hair. “No time for that. Besides, you already smell nice.” His playful demeanor adds a spark to the moment, making you smile in spite of the urgency.

A blush tints your cheeks. Did he just say you smell nice? You did take a bath yesterday after dinner, but you’re not entirely convinced you actually smell nice. Nevertheless, he’s spot on about time slipping away – you can’t afford to lose daylight like you did yesterday.

“Fine,” you hiss, the word escaping through a playful smirk. Chuckling softly, you grab your clothes from the bed and dash out of your room, disappearing into the bathroom. 

Returning to your bedroom, you discover Jimin holding a photograph featuring the three of you. His smile reflects the captured moment as you take the frame from his hand. “I found it a few weeks ago. Isn’t it just adorable?” The warmth of nostalgia floods the room, threading through the air as the image triggers shared memories.

A smile graces your face as you gaze at the photograph capturing the innocence of childhood, featuring you, your sister, and Jimin at the tender age of eight. Bright, childish smiles illuminate the image, with chubby cheeks and round faces. You and your sister playfully squish Jimin in the middle, a moment frozen in time that radiates cuteness. Reflecting on it, you marvel at the transformation; once adorable, Jimin now exudes a different allure, an almost dangerous charisma, akin to the allure of sin.

“It was good times,” nostalgia colors his words as a warm smile graces Jimin’s lips. Without a word, he walks past you, hand reaching out to intertwine with yours, a gentle pull guiding you downstairs to the kitchen. In that touch, echoes of good times and cherished memories bridge the gap between past and present.

“Here you go,” Ha-rin offers you a bundle of carefully prepared food, a thoughtful gesture that instantly makes you feel cared for. Simultaneously, Jimin secures water bottles, gearing up for the day’s journey. The barn becomes a hub of activity as his sleek black horse stands poised, laden with sleeping mats and saddlebags filled with provisions. The air buzzes with anticipation as you prepare for the adventure ahead.

“You’re really prepared,” amused by the thorough preparations, you share a light chuckle while heading into the stable to retrieve Marshmallow, your trusted companion for the impending journey.

“Yeah, that way, if we still don’t find her, we can just sleep out there instead of having to ride all the way back and start over again tomorrow.” His practical explanation resonates with you as you prepare Marshmallow, donning him with a bridle and securing the saddle. Anticipating the possibility of an extended search, you fasten saddlebags, graciously accepting the additional supplies from Jimin, ensuring you’re well-equipped for the journey ahead.

His strategic approach resonates, and you nod in agreement, a surge of determination coursing through you as you gear up for the mission to locate Mikrokosmos.

Guiding Marshmallow from the stable into the morning sunlight, you revel in the warmth that has lingered for months. With reins in hand, boots in the stirrups, and a shared determination with Jimin, you swing into the saddle, urging your horses into a brisk trot toward the Eastern paddock.

The silence becomes a tangible presence, weaving an awkward tapestry around you. Armed with the knowledge of Jimin’s recent breakup, a peculiar tension lingers. He’s now within reach, available, and your desire for him simmers beneath the surface. The challenge lies in navigating this uncharted territory, uncertain of how to bridge the gap between longing and action.

After a few hours in the saddle, you take a well-deserved break, replenishing your energy with a quick snack and a sip of water. The brief pause allows you to catch your breath, fortifying yourself before embarking on the ongoing quest to find Mikrokosmos.

Between bites of the delicious sandwiches Ha-rin crafted for you, you cast a concerned glance at Jimin. 

“Are you okay?” Your attention focuses, especially on his leg, as you inquire about his well-being.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he reassures you, as though casually dismissing the likely pain he’s enduring.

“I know that long rides can strain your leg, and I don’t want you to push yourself too hard,” you express with concern, your voice softening. The last thing you want is for him to endure any pain because of you.

“It’s okay,” despite his soft smile and dismissal, you can’t shake the feeling that he’s in pain. It reflects in the furrow of his forehead and the way he favors his left leg, dragging his right leg more than usual. Stubborn, you think, as you let him have his way, but deep down, you know he’s masking the discomfort.

As you take a sip of water, you gently probe, “I remember you telling me about your accident, but what was it like for you afterward?”

With a gentle smile, he begins, “As I told you earlier, I underwent surgery after the accident. It lasted for hours, leaving me with numerous scars on my hip. I despise them; they keep reminding me of that day,” his voice resonates with a mix of sadness and lingering anger. “It happened when I was alone, unable to move or feel my legs. My foot was trapped in the stirrup, the horse struggling to rise immediately after the fall.”

Empathy wells up within you as he recounts the harrowing details. It sounds truly dreadful. Reflecting on the first time he mentioned the incident, you realize he held back so many of these distressing details.

As he exhales, a poignant mixture of sadness and defeat tinges his voice. “Finally, the horse got up and ran off, presumably back home. A few hours later, Jungkook found me and took me to the hospital,” he shares, his recollection carrying the weight of a painful memory.

“Learning to walk again was also pretty hard. But I managed,” he confides, a resilient smile lighting up his eyes. In that moment, you find yourself smiling back, realizing the depth of his strength. Despite the pain, he’s willingly embarking on this quest with you—a testament to the extraordinary kindness that defines this man. He is truly too kind for his own good.

“I’m so sorry,” you utter, a genuine ache in your voice, yearning to alleviate even a fraction of the pain etched across his features.

“It’s life, I guess,” he murmurs with a touch of vulnerability, his shoulders lifting in a nonchalant shrug as he concludes his sandwich, deftly stowing away the remnants into the saddlebags.

“Ready to continue?” He inquires, rising to his feet and dusting off his pants. Following suit, you tidy up, brushing away the dirt from your clothes. Grabbing the reins of Marshmallow, you mount him once more. With the sky shifting from orange to purple in the approaching dusk, the urgency propels you to search fervently for Mikrokosmos.

You’re hit with a wave of disappointment as the realization sinks in that Mikrokosmos won’t be found today either. Frustration knots in your stomach, and a heavy sigh escapes, echoing your dejected feelings.

“We will continue tomorrow,” under the star-studded sky, Jimin’s comforting words envelop you like a gentle embrace. The vast expanse of the open land, with trees and mountains on the horizon, hints at the distance you’ve covered—perhaps even farther than the previous day. Tomorrow holds the promise of a new search, a fresh chance to reunite with Mikrokosmos.

“Fine.”

Resigned, you dismount Marshmallow, carefully removing his bridle and saddle, placing them on the ground with a sense of weary determination. Jimin mirrors your actions with his own horse, unfurling sleeping mats that create a makeshift bed beneath the starlit sky. Blankets join the ensemble, and side by side, you both recline, gazing upward. The stars, like distant diamonds, twinkle in the vast canvas of the night sky, creating a breathtaking image of beauty.

As you lay there, surrounded by the gentle rustling of grass and the fragrant whispers of wildflowers, a part of you can’t help but believe that this is the stuff dreams are made of. The soft earth cradles you, a natural mattress beneath the vast expanse of the cosmos, each star above a guardian in the nocturnal symphony orchestrating your descent into slumber.

The night breeze plays a gentle melody around you, and you sense Jimin shifting beside you. Your eyelids flutter open, and you gracefully turn your head to meet his presence in the tranquil darkness.

“You know that brother’s talk…” in the hushed embrace of the nocturnal wilderness, Jimin’s voice resonates like a sacred incantation. He breaks the silence with a low, calm tone, his words weaving through the night’s symphony of your shared breaths, distant crickets, and the flickering dance of fireflies.

His words, like an unexpected gust of wind through the serene night, jolt you awake. Tension grips your body, and a nervous gulp escapes your throat, shattering the fragile cocoon of impending sleep.

His words cut through the tranquil night, each syllable heavy with the weight of his vulnerability. In the dimness, his eyes lock onto yours, revealing a hurt that lingers like a shadow, haunting the depths of his gaze. “It really hurt... seeing you with Jungkook,” he confesses, laying bare the ache that still throbs within him.

As your heart sways with remorse, your hand moves instinctively, bridging the gap between you and Jimin. Gently, your fingers trace the contours of his cheek, a silent apology etched in the tender gesture. “I’m so sorry. Both that it happened and that you had to see it,” your words hang in the night air, a delicate offering of regret that seeks solace in the quiet.

Jimin’s hand intertwines with yours, and his touch becomes a comforting anchor in the obsidian night. “It’s okay. Stuff happens. I just like you so much, it made me really angry,” his words, a vulnerable confession, echoing beneath the starlit canopy. 

“I’m sorry. I really like you too. And I didn’t know he was your brother at that time, I’m sorry.” The apology lingers in the night air as you gravitate closer to Jimin. His breath, a gentle caress, plays on your skin. Proximity tightens the space between you until your noses almost touch. A symphony of rapid heartbeats reverberates in the silence. 

An electric charge courses through you as Jimin cups your cheek, his gaze penetrating into the depths of your soul, intertwining two fates under the starlit embrace.

A subdued moan escapes your lips as his touch fans the flames within, setting ablaze the desires you’ve long suppressed. It’s that magnetic pull, the sensation lingering each time Jimin’s presence envelops you, a denial unraveling at last. The tension snaps, akin to a taut elastic band reaching its limit. Eternity seems to pass as you lock eyes with him, noses grazing. Inevitably, his plush, inviting lips find yours. Your hands eagerly cup his cheeks, drawing him closer, intensifying the kiss—a convergence of longing and surrender, an electric union that transcends mere touch.

His lips, plush and tender, evoke the sensation of cotton candy—irresistible, almost ethereal. 

In this stolen moment, the kiss becomes an endless dance, a rhythmic exchange that could easily stretch into eternity. A dormant ember within you, quiet for far too many moments, now kindles to life. The realization floods your senses, a surge of awareness that travels down to where desire ignites. Your panties dampen, awakening the passion swirling between you and Jimin.

Jimin expertly rolls you over, maintaining the unbroken connection of your lips. As he gracefully assumes the position above, a tantalizing dance ensues. The subtle pressure of his hips against your crotch sends shivers through your being. You can feel his erect cock, concealed beneath denim, pressing fervently against you. In a harmonious rhythm, he grinds down, a symphony of need escaping him, as he moans into your mouth.

You gasp for breath, the air thick with lust, your eyes locking onto Jimin’s, both sets heavy-lidded and pupils dilated, mirroring the intoxication that courses through your veins. It’s a heady sensation, a collision of longing and desire that feels almost surreal but undeniably right. Your fingers find his cheeks once more, a possessive urgency guiding your movements as you draw him down towards you. As your lips meet in a fervent kiss, the hunger between you intensifies, a voracious yearning that’s been building for months. Each brush of your lips against his is a moment suspended in time, where your need is laid bare, and the surreal truth of it all leaves you breathless – a fantasy finally materializing into reality.

Jimin gently pulls away, a glistening strand of saliva lingering between your parted lips like an invisible tether, a tangible testament to the magnetic force pulling you both back. His breath hitches, a raw intensity in his eyes as he utters, “Fuck. I want you so bad.”

He exhales, a tangible wave of frustration emanating from him as he plunges back into another searing kiss. His tongue, a silent plea, prods at the barrier of your lips, and in a breathless agreement, you grant him entry. Tongues entwined, a passionate dance ensues, heightened by the rhythmic grind of your core against his. The ache of desire consumes you, a primal need that has been dormant for what feels like an eternity. It’s a shared hunger, an unspoken acknowledgment of mutual longing, as if both of you are starved for each other’s touch.

His hands travel down, tracing the contours of your stomach beneath the fabric of your shirt. A soft, involuntary giggle escapes your lips, betraying the ticklish sensation that dances across your skin. His touch ventures further, slipping beneath the shirt, and you’re met with a surge of anticipation. The warmth of his palms cups your breasts, the delicate barrier of the bra heightening the sensory encounter. A moan escapes into the heated exchange of the kiss, the responsive melody to his skilled touch, as your nipples respond, hardening within the confines of your bra.

You reluctantly part, the air charged with desire, and you confess breathlessly, “I want you so bad too, Jimin.”

Your fingers glide along the contours of his snug shirt, tracing the rhythmic dance of his abdominal muscles beneath the fabric. The aftermath of your prolonged kisses paints his lips a tantalizing shade of red. His tousled, golden locks only add to the captivating disarray of his appearance, a visual symphony that threatens to engulf your senses. Rising with a newfound determination, you assertively push him away, breaking the intoxicating proximity. “I need that shirt off,” you declare, a hunger lingering in your eyes, aching to explore the canvas beneath.

You eagerly tug at his shirt, a silent invitation that he willingly accepts, lifting his arms in a seamless motion to unveil his honey-colored, velvety skin. As your hand grazes over his pectorals, the rhythmic pulse beneath your fingertips resonates with the accelerated beat of his heart—mirroring the anticipation that courses through your own veins. Your gaze traces a tantalizing descent, capturing the sculpted landscape of his face, collarbones, and the inviting expanse of his stomach, where a subtle trail of brown hair beckons you further. The air is charged with desire as your fingers deftly find his belt, unbuckling it, each deliberate motion a step closer to unraveling his dick hiding in his pants.

A throaty moan escapes him, a vulnerable symphony of desire, as you expertly undo his belt. Returning to him, your lips meet in a kiss, the touch soft and tender, like an intimate promise whispered between you two. In the gentle exchange, he tastes like a blend of love and flowers, a heady combination that lingers in the air. Brimming with anticipation, your hands deftly navigate the delicate task of unbuttoning and pulling down his pants, a challenging feat in the confined space of your current sitting position.

Your hand boldly cups his cock, the fabric of his underwear the only barrier between your skin and the pulsating dick beneath. A soft hiss escapes his lips, a symphony of pleasure and anticipation, as you sense the subtle twitch, a physical manifestation of the intensity building between you. The desperate yearning within you intensifies, aching for him with every heartbeat, and as you explore the contours of his cock, the undeniable thickness in your grasp fuels the flames of desire, leaving you breathless with need.

Breaking away from the intoxicating exchange of kisses, you lock eyes with his nearly obsidian orbs, the depth of his gaze holding a universe of unspoken desires. 

“Can I touch you, Jimin?” you inquire, the words charged with both vulnerability and a raw, palpable need.

His teeth capture his bottom lip, a silent struggle playing out as he releases a frustrated exhale. Finally, with a resolute nod, “Fuck, yeah.” 

He raises his hips in anticipation, granting you the freedom to skillfully peel away both his pants and underwear, leaving them discarded somewhere behind you in a forgotten tangle. In this suspended moment, you revel in the sight of him, completely exposed in all his naked glory—an embodiment of your deepest, most intimate fantasies. His beauty surpasses even the vivid images painted by your most explicit dreams. With unabashed admiration, your eyes roam over his form, settling on the scars that grace his hips, perilously close to his crotch. A particularly long one commands attention, stretching from the pinnacle of his hip and tracing a courageous journey downward, almost reaching his knee. Your fingers delicately follow the path of this scar, a silent tribute to the tales etched into his skin.

As your touch navigates the landscape of his scars, you witness the subtle interplay of tension and release in his body, a testament to the vulnerability that accompanies such intimate revelations. His cock responds with a telltale twitch, betraying the electric charge that courses through him in response to your every caress. 

Among the prominent, sprawling scar that graces his hip, you notice a constellation of smaller, shorter scars, each telling its own story. With a delicate touch, your fingertips embark on a tender exploration, tracing the intricate map of his history etched into his skin. 

Meanwhile, his eyes remain hooded, a veil of pleasure shrouding them, while his head arches backward, supported by his hands resting behind him. The cadence of his breath is a slow, deliberate rhythm, accentuating the intimate atmosphere that envelops you both. His teeth find refuge in his bottom lip once more, a silent testament to the waves of sensation cascading through him at your every touch.

“My scars are ugly, don’t look at them,” he confesses, his voice carrying a weight of vulnerability, as if he bears the weight of shame. The realization hits you like a wave—perhaps no one has ever taken the time to remind him that, even adorned with scars, he is undeniably beautiful. Gazing into his eyes, you speak with a gentle resolve, “You are beautiful, and so are your scars.”

With tender determination, your fingers resume their exploration, tracing the intricate paths of his scars. The touch is a reassurance, a gentle affirmation of his worth, and as your fingertips dance along the imprints of his past, a ripple of shivers courses through him. In response, an involuntary twitch emanates from his cock between his legs.

He dismisses your words with a subtle shake of his head, skepticism clouding his expression, but you’re determined to rewrite the narrative etched into his self-perception. He needs to understand the depth of his beauty and uniqueness. Your fingers resume their tender dance, tracing teasingly along the ridges of his scars, each touch carrying the weight of your conviction. “These scars,” you affirm, “they tell your story, a story of resilience and strength. And, my god, they are beautiful, just like you.” 

The words hang in the air, a testament to your unwavering belief in the profound beauty etched into the very fabric of his being.

Witnessing the softening of his gaze, a solitary tear breaking free from the confines of his eyes, you seize the poignant moment to plunge back into a kiss with his lips—soft and plush, like a velvet haven. It’s a moment that transcends time, and in those stolen seconds, you realize you could lose yourself in the artistry of his lips for an eternity.

Heaving with the weight of shared intimacy, his breaths resonate with depth and intensity. As he withdraws, the shadows of his eyes glisten with unshed tears in the night. With a voice that trembles with sincerity, he utters, “Thank you,” a phrase that echoes with layers of gratitude and vulnerability.

Gazing into his eyes, you observe a vulnerability that renders him utterly exposed, laid bare before you. In the depth of his gaze, a profound mixture of emotions surfaces, the hues of desire and longing mingling with the rich brown of his eyes. Embracing him, you pull him into the sanctuary of a hug, your lips brushing against his ear as you murmur, “I’ll keep telling you forever, because I feel like you need to hear it.”

Gently trailing your hand down the terrain of his stomach, your fingertips navigate the uncharted territory until they encounter his neglected cock. The moment your touch cradles him, a guttural groan, steeped in the heady brew of desire, escapes him, echoing in the charged air around you. Your fingers embark on a careful exploration, appreciating the girth and thickness of his dick, veins almost popping out of the poor thing. The flushed redness of the head and a delicate sheen of precum only intensify the allure. Licking your lips in anticipation, you lower yourself. Your lips encircle the engorged head, and in response, a deep, primal moan reverberates from him, resonating with the harmonious dance between pleasure and need that binds you together.

Reclining amidst the soft embrace of grass and wildflowers, you have somehow trailed off your sleeping mats, but you don’t care. Your tongue embarks on an intricate exploration, tracing a sinuous path along his cock, each lick an artful dance that circles around him with an unspoken promise of ecstasy. You’re drooling, and your saliva runs down your cheeks, down his cock and down to his balls.

His dick fills your mouth with a perfect fullness, a tangible overflow of desire. The parts that don’t fit in your mouth are skillfully tended to by your left hand, ensuring no inch of him is left untouched. His legs, betraying the intensity of the sensations, exhibit a subtle yet enticing twitch as you move rhythmically, a symphony of pleasure in every rise and fall.

Your devoted attention centers on his frenulum, a delicate dance of your tongue that elicits the softest, most melodic moan you’ve ever been privy to. The sound, a harmonious melody that resonates like a sweet lullaby, fuels your determination to continue this enraptured dance, even as your eyes threaten to mist with water. The need for air tugs at the edge of your consciousness, yet the ethereal music of his moans compels you to keep sucking.

The air is punctuated by squelching sounds, an audible testament to the fervor with which you suck him, utilizing every ounce of your skill. His hand, a gentle guide, finds solace in the maze of your hair, fingers intertwining as you diligently navigate the rhythmic ascent and descent along his pulsating dick. Sensing the subtle tension beneath your touch, you discern the hastened cadence of his breath, a telltale sign that he might be close.

You surface from the intoxicating depths of his crotch, parting from his cock to catch a breath of much-needed air. In that fleeting moment, as your eyes lock with his, you’re ensnared by the sinful intensity of his gaze. It’s a look so profoundly wicked, so enticingly feral, that you sense the very essence of your being might either melt into a puddle or evaporate into the charged air. 

Pooling a teasing amount of saliva in your mouth, you audaciously release it onto his dick, eliciting a surprised yet lustful chuckle from him. As your mouth envelops him once more, you revel in the tangible connection, savoring the unique sensation he offers. Yet, the sensation also sparks a cascade of anticipatory thoughts, your mind drifting to what it will feel like with his cock deep inside your pussy, and you feel it clench pathetically around nothing. Oh, god, you’re so wet already, it’s like a waterslide in your panties.

In rhythmic harmony with your measured breaths through flared nostrils, you descend along the full length of his dick. The audible moans that escape him blend with the sensation of his fingers tensing in your hair, creating a symphony of pleasure. Gradually, you sense him responding, pushing up into the warmth of your mouth with a deliberate slowness, each controlled thrust an exquisite dance. You relax your jaw and let him thrust into your warm walls. It’s slow and tender, like he’s very mindful not to hurt you.

In a breathless maneuver, you inhale deeply, creating a vacuum of anticipation as you envelop him in the suction of your mouth. A subtle, resonant hum reverberates against his pulsating dick, a seductive melody that prompts a tantalizing twitch within him. His fingers assertively tug at your hair, commanding a release that you give in to. With a sensation-laden pop, you surface from his cock, leaving an electrifying echo of desire lingering in the charged air.

“It’s so fucking good. But you have to stop. I don’t want to come in your mouth,” he pants, his voice a raw fusion of vulnerability and urgent need. As he leans up, the desperation in his tone intensifies, “I want to come inside you.” 

You might as well be surrendering to the abyss, for the power this man holds over you is staggering. The softness in his eyes is laced with an intoxicating lust, and the sly smirk he graces you with sends an electric current straight to your pussy. The dampness between your thighs becomes an undeniable testament to the effect he has on you, as his mere expression ignites a storm of arousal, leaving you helplessly entrapped in the spell he effortlessly casts.

With a firm yet gentle pull, he elevates you into a seated position, an unspoken desire lingering in the air. Urgently, he tugs at your shirt, mirroring the unveiling you orchestrated for him. As the fabric succumbs to gravity, revealing your form, he takes a moment to appreciate the canvas before him. His fingers trace a tantalizing path from your collarbones, across the curve of your breasts, and down to the waistband of your pants. Eyes locked with yours, he skillfully unzips your trousers, teasingly patting your ass before lifting them and guiding the denim down your legs.

The night air caresses your bare skin, its touch not a chill, but a soothing embrace. Despite the darkness that cloaks the surroundings, the lingering warmth from the day creates an intimate ambiance, allowing the freedom of being naked outside to feel not only acceptable but almost cocooned in a sensual comfort.

“Babe,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping between your open legs, a single finger delicately tracing the contours of your pussy, “You’re soaked.” 

You bite down on your lip, a flutter of lust coursing through you, as his finger skims the exterior of your panties, causing them to uncomfortably adhere to the contours of your folds. The urgency intensifies, a palpable desire radiating from your core, a silent plea echoing in your mind—you need them off, and you need it now.

“No need to silence yourself; it’s just us beneath the open sky,” he gently reminds you. With his reassuring words, you liberate your teeth from the captivity of your lips, allowing the unabashed moans of pleasure to cascade freely from your mouth, blending with the nocturnal symphony surrounding the two of you.

His fingers dance over your clit through the fabric of your panties, coaxing a guttural groan from the depths of your stomach. The subtle tremor of your thighs betrays the exquisite intensity of the sensation, a response that echoes through the sultry night air like a secret shared only between you two.

A smug smirk graces his lips, a silent promise of the pleasures yet to unfold, as his hands maneuver deftly up and behind your back, skillfully releasing the constraints of your bra. It cascades down to your lap, unveiling your liberated tits that eagerly spring forth. His hands, warm and purposeful, eagerly grope the newly revealed treasures, gently massaging your boobs.

Diving in with hunger, he presses kisses atop them, an unhurried descent leading him further down and to the left. His plush lips encircle a pert nipple, initiating a sensory dance that sends ripples of ecstasy through you.

“Fuck,” escapes your lips in a resonant moan, a symphony of pleasure commencing as he avidly sucks at one nipple while his fingers skillfully engage with the other. The sensation is beyond exquisite, a tidal wave of arousal surging through you. A fleeting realization of your panties still sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Yet, the relentless attention he bestows upon your breasts holds you captive, rendering you powerless to do anything but surrender to the intoxicating pleasure.

And take it you do, as his tongue deftly laps at your nipple, each stroke a rhythmic dance that occasionally escalates into a teasing bite, sending electric sparks that illuminate your vision with stars. Simultaneously, his fingers tug at the other nipple, orchestrating a symphony of pleasure that resonates through your body. As his exploration continues, you feel the warmth of his saliva tracing a tantalizing path down your breasts, descending over your stomach like a sensual cascade. The molten trail reaches the brink of your panties, a frustrating barrier to the carnal desire that courses through you.

With a tantalizing pop, he releases your left nipple, ascending to your mouth for a kiss that’s both needy and all-consuming, as if he can’t satiate his hunger for you. The fervor in his lips translates into an intense connection, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. 

Descending once again, his focus shifts to the other nipple, where he wraps his lips around it, initiating a dance of sucking and biting that elicits unrestrained moans from deep within you. Simultaneously, his fingers weave an intricate symphony on the previous touched nipple, propelling you into a realm of uncharted pleasure. The crescendo builds, and you moan unabashedly, teetering on the edge of an orgasm, the anticipation of release hanging in the charged air.

He persists in his relentless assault, biting and pulling with an intensity that coils a spring deep within your stomach. As the tension reaches its zenith, the spring snaps, unleashing a torrent of arousal that surges through you, adhering to your panties in a sticky testament to the powerful release. The realization hits like a thunderbolt – you just came without the direct touch on your clit. The sheer amazement washes over you, compounded by the rhythmic pants for air, transforming the aftermath into a heady cocktail of astonishment and unbridled ecstasy.

He relinquishes his hold on your breasts, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as if savoring a delectable feast. With a hungry gaze, he looks at you, and you can almost feel the intensity of his desire – as if he’s contemplating devouring you whole. 

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, a prelude to a ravenous declaration, “I want to taste your pussy too.” The words hang in the air, charged with a primal hunger that echoes the undeniable craving between you.

Your pussy continues to pulsate, a rhythmic echo of the recent orgasm, its clenching sensation persisting even in the absence of direct touch. Biting your lip, you nod your head in silent agreement. The desire intensifies, a relentless ache for the magic of his lips and the dance of his tongue on your pussy.

His fingers trace a tantalizing path to your hips, teasingly tugging at the edge of your panties. With deliberate intent, he pulls them off, a gentle yet purposeful maneuver that leaves your arousal adhering to the fabric, forming a glistening string of liquid in its wake. 

His gaze lowers between your legs, and he licks his lips with a deliberate slowness, an anticipation building with every inch he descends towards the place you ache for his touch. But just before he immerses himself in your pussy, he looks up, locking eyes with you. In that fleeting moment, he bestows upon you the softest look, so angelic and innocent, creating a deceptive contrast to the sinful delights you know he’s about to unleash upon you. 

As the first tantalizing touch of his tongue graces your folds, an instantaneous moan escapes your lips, and a kaleidoscope of stars seems to burst behind your closed eyelids. His tongue skillfully dances across your lips, a deliberate sweep that not only dissipates the lingering echoes of the previous orgasm but also revels in the unique taste of your essence. 

His tongue, a sinful indulgence, possesses a length that seems to explore the depths of your walls with deliberate precision. The unhurried entrance sends shivers through your core, each languid movement a seductive dance that unfurls the layers of pleasure. 

He fervently licks at your folds, savoring every essence, his tongue a relentless tide that laps up the intoxicating cascade of your juices. As you lean back on your arms, the anticipation of a new orgasm steadily builds within the depths of your stomach. Suddenly, a finger makes contact with your clit, and a moan of desire escapes your lips. Panting and gasping, your naked chest rises and falls above him, caught in the rhythm of a primal dance, as he devours you with the hunger of a man starved.

His skillful touch initiates a hypnotic dance, tracing sensuous circles around your clit. 

“Fuck, Jimin, I’m—” you begin to say amidst breathy pants, and suddenly, a new sensation courses down your ass. The realization hits— it’s one of his slickened fingers, probing at the hole there. 

Gradually, he eases his finger inside, and an involuntary clenching reaction coupled with erratic breaths engulf you. Thoughts scatter, the intensity of this entirely new sensation overwhelming your senses. It’s foreign, yet undeniably not unpleasant; in fact, it’s oddly good, a revelation that surprises you. As his finger delves a bit deeper, you feel the subtle stretch, accompanied by a moan that weaves into the midnight air.

“You said I should stick it up my ass. How does it feel with my finger up yours?” he taunts, his voice laced with a provocative edge that sends a shiver down your spine. As you clench around his invading finger, a surge of arousal releases a trickle of liquid from your pussy. The sensation is overwhelming, igniting a primal heat that consumes you entirely. Fuck, why is this so hot?

With deliberate tenderness, he eases his finger into your hole, maintaining a steady rhythm that tantalizingly grazes the threshold of previous depths. The sensation is nothing short of exquisite, sending ripples of pleasure cascading through every fiber of your being. But as quickly as the euphoria engulfs you, he withdraws his finger, leaving you to groan in a poignant emptiness that echoes through the night air. 

He lifts his head, locking eyes with you, his gaze penetrating the depths of your blown-out eyes. “You liked that, huh?” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper that reverberates with a potent mixture of satisfaction and desire. The intensity of his stare ignites a fire within you, each word laden with the weight of pleasure and unspoken longing.

You bite your lips, a fleeting moment of hesitation passing through your mind as you contemplate the truth. But the honesty between you is palpable, a silent understanding that binds you together in this intimate moment. “I did,” you confess, your voice carrying the weight of undeniable desire, a raw admission that lays bare the depths of your longing.

“That’s good to know,” he chuckles, the sound reverberating through the night like a whispered promise. With a hunger that borders on desperation, he kisses you again, his lips consuming yours in a full embrace that tastes of your essence. It’s a kiss that’s wet and sloppy, needy and unapologetic, yet every sensation only serves to deepen the flames between you. And as you savor the taste of his lips against yours, you’re reminded of the intoxicating allure that drew you to him in the first place, igniting a flame that burns brighter with each passing moment.

He returns to your pussy with a hunger that borders on obsession, his lips eagerly tasting every inch of you while his skilled fingers tease your clit with a maddening precision. His tongue, devilishly good, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, compelling you to arch your back and press your core deeper into his face. The sight of his glistening cheeks, adorned with your essence, ignites a primal urge within you, a visceral desire to consume and be consumed in return. With his head between your legs, he becomes a vision of untamed passion, his devotion to your pleasure evident in every caress and every lingering kiss.

With the skill of a master, he works his fingers over your clit in a mesmerizing dance, tracing circles that send sparks of ecstasy coursing through your veins. His touch is both gentle and assertive, at times pulling on your sensitive nub, eliciting a chorus of moans that echo in the heated air around you. Each movement sets your body ablaze with a searing intensity, every sensation heightening your arousal until you feel like you’re consumed by a blazing inferno of desire.

As he continues his relentless assault on your senses, you feel the coil of desire winding tighter and tighter, on the verge of unraveling at any moment. The dual sensation of his sucking at your clit while his finger expertly rubs it pushes you over the edge, and with a primal cry, the coil inside you finally snaps. 

A powerful wave of liquid cascades over his face, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you. Gasping for air, your vision momentarily blurs, spots dancing before your eyes as the intensity of the moment washes over you. You feel the liquid trickling down your folds, leaving a trail of evidence on the grass or flowers beneath you.

As Jimin continues to lick and coax you through the euphoric waves of your orgasm, you ride out the intense sensations until you gently tug on his blonde hair, a silent signal that it’s becoming too much to bear. Sensing your need, he obediently returns, his lips meeting yours in a modest kiss that speaks volumes of his reverence for you. 

“You’re so hot, you know that?” he murmurs against your lips, his words laced with genuine admiration and a hint of awe, leaving you with a lingering warmth.

For some inexplicable reason, a blush graces your cheeks, a subtle yet undeniable testament to the torrent of emotions swirling within you. It’s a curious juxtaposition, considering the uninhibited pleasures you’ve shared thus far. Yet, amidst the intoxicating haze of desire, there’s a deeper sensation stirring within you—a profound sense of being utterly and unequivocally full, not just of passion, but of an overwhelming and boundless love.

“Can I make love to you?” he asks, his voice a tender whisper that reverberates through the charged air between you. As his eyes search yours, a silent plea etched into their depths, his breath washes over your face, carrying with it the intoxicating scent of him—sweet and musky, a heady blend that envelops you in a cocoon of desire and longing.

“God, yes!” you moan fervently, your voice a breathless plea that echoes in the heated space between you. With an instinctual urgency, you open your legs wider, a silent invitation that beckons him closer, drawing him into the intimate embrace of your pussy with an irresistible pull.

He lays you down gently on a fragrant bed of bluebonnets, their sweet, flowery scent wrapping around you like a comforting embrace, infusing the night air with a delicate fragrance that speaks of love and serenity. As you pant softly, your eyes drink in the sight of Jimin poised above you, a vision of strength and vulnerability intertwined. His scars, a testament to his journey, only add to his allure, while his tender gaze holds you in a spellbinding trance. With deliberate movements, he hovers closer, his hand stroking his dick.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He asks, a note of realization creeping into his voice as he acknowledges the crucial detail he nearly overlooked. 

You shake your head, a sense of disappointment washing over you like a wave crashing against the shore. Despite the nagging concern for safety, your desire burns fiercely, eclipsing rational thought with an unyielding craving for closeness. 

“No, I don’t. I’m on the pill and I’m clean, are you?” You inquire, your voice laced with a mixture of longing and urgency, a silent plea for reassurance amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

He chuckles softly, the sound a mixture of amusement and apprehension. “Yeah, I usually always wear protection too, but I really didn’t plan on this happening tonight,” he admits, his words tinged with a hint of uncertainty. “You’re okay without it?” He asks, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt, his concern for your well-being evident in the furrow of his brow.

“I’m good, just fuck me, Jimin,” you pant, your voice trembling with a raw mixture of desire and urgency. With a fervent desperation, you spread your legs even wider, your glistening pussy shimmering in the moonlight, a beacon of temptation that beckons him closer. The sight leaves him licking his lips in unadulterated lust, his gaze fixated on you with a hunger that mirrors your own.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he strokes his dick once more, a silent promise of the pleasure to come. Aligning himself with your eager entrance, he begins to push his cock into your welcoming embrace, each inch a tantalizing reminder of the intimacy you’re about to share.

As he enters you, a surge of sensation washes over you, and you’re struck by the realization that he’s thicker than you anticipated. A fleeting moment of panic flits through your mind as you remember that he didn’t stretch you beforehand, but to your surprise, the slickness of your arousal makes the slide effortless. There’s no discomfort, only a delicious feeling of fullness that leaves you breathless with pleasure.

He reaches the deepest recesses of your being, his balls grazing your folds, and a primal moan escapes your lips as he ignites a firestorm of sensation within you. 

Every inch of him stretches you to your limits, leaving you feeling gloriously full and alive with desire. With each withdrawal, a shiver races down your spine, only to be replaced by an electrifying jolt of pleasure as he thrusts back in. 

The intensity of it all is overwhelming, sending you spiraling into a frenzy of ecstasy that surpasses even your most vivid fantasies. It’s everything you’ve ever imagined, and yet, so much more—so much better than your wildest wettest dreams.

You revel in the sensation of his dick twitching inside your pussy, a primal confirmation of his arousal that sends a thrill coursing through your veins. With each powerful thrust, the simplicity of the missionary position becomes a conduit for profound intimacy, every movement drawing you closer together in a passionate dance of desire. You’re soaking wet, to be honest, you’re dripping. His cock feels like a revelation, igniting flames of ecstasy that consume you wholly, leaving you utterly lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your passion.

His hands, initially anchored on either side of your hips, move across your trembling form. Each caress leaves a trail of tingling sensations in its wake, electrifying your senses with a fervent urgency. As his fingers glide over your curves, they pause upon the soft swell of your breasts, lingering there with an almost reverent touch. With a gentle tug on your nipple, he elicits a fervent moan of pure pleasure from your lips, each sensation unraveling you further in the throes of unabashed ecstasy.

As he continues to thrust deeply into you, his fingers teasing your sensitive nipple, you find yourself drawn to the raw intensity etched across his features. His expression, a captivating blend of desire and longing, captivates your gaze, his furrowed brow a testament to the depth of his passion. His eyes, wide and dilated with arousal, hold you in their hypnotic gaze, each glance igniting flames of longing within your core. His plush, red lips beckon to you with an irresistible allure, stirring an overwhelming urge to taste him once more, to lose yourself in him.

“Kiss,” you pant, your voice a desperate plea that hangs heavy in the air, and he chuckles softly at your fervent request. Without hesitation, he leans down to meet your lips, his kiss a fiery collision of passion and need, even as he continues to drive his dick into your heated depths with unwavering intensity. 

Each brush of his lips against yours sends shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

“Fuck, you’re amazing babe,” he groans, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and desire, as he drives himself into you with a fervent urgency tempered by tender affection. Each powerful thrust is a testament to his adoration, his movements a symphony of passion and intimacy that leave you breathless with longing.

“Jimin, I—” you gasp, the words caught in your throat as he delves deeper into your depths, a surge of pleasure coursing through you as he gathers your legs and presses them against his shoulders, driving himself even further into your pussy.

Your gasping, overwhelmed by the depth of sensation as he plunges into you, exploring places you never knew existed, igniting sparks of pleasure that ripple through every fiber of your being. It’s as if he’s reaching parts of you that have long remained dormant, his every movement sending shockwaves of ecstasy cascading through your body, leaving you teetering on the edge of blissful oblivion.

When he delivers a particularly powerful thrust, you surrender to the overwhelming wave of emotions coursing through you, your heart soaring as you release the words that have been simmering within, “I love you.”

With a husky grunt, he responds, his voice a low rumble filled with an undeniable tenderness, “I know, babe.”

Gazing at him through a veil of desire, your breath ragged with anticipation, you press him for clarity, your voice trembling with curiosity, “What do you mean, you know?”

A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he withdraws completely, leaving you with a sense of emptiness that mirrors the sudden absence of his presence within you. “You told me at the gala,” he explains, his voice carrying a hint of amusement and fond remembrance, casting a glow of warmth over the memory.

Your expression morphs into a puzzled question mark once more, prompting another bout of laughter from him as he teasingly teases at your entrance once more.

“When you told me you hated me, you also said you love me,” he reveals, his voice laced with a mixture of humor and desire, before driving his dick back into you with an intensity that leaves you gasping, your cries of pleasure echoing in the night, mingling with the sounds of nature around you. You’re almost afraid you might startle the horses with all your noises.

“Fuck, I did?” you gasp incredulously, your voice tinged with disbelief and arousal, feeling the powerful grip of your pussy tightening around his cock, as if it’s instinctively pulling him deeper, craving the connection with an intensity that matches your own desire.

“Yeah. It was actually really hot. Do you know how sexy you are when you’re mad?” He leans down, gently pressing your thighs against your stomach, drawing you into an intimate embrace as he lowers his lips to your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he whispers, “I love you too.”

You’re consumed by a surge of sensation, questioning whether he’s grown larger or you’ve become tighter, the intense throbbing and twitching of his dick inside you driving you to the brink of madness. Every nerve in your body is alight, ablaze with desire, leaving you gasping for breath as if on the verge of spontaneous combustion.

As he ascends, his hand resumes its gentle ministrations on your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. The intensity is overwhelming, pushing you to the brink of release once more. Every fiber of your being is electrified, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. You feel like you could come at any moment now.

Despite the exhaustion that blankets your body with the way that he fucks you, you’re enveloped in a whirlwind of love and desire that leaves you feeling utterly spent yet infinitely fulfilled.

“Ahhh, fuck!” You cry out, the sensation of him delving so deep sends shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through every nerve ending, igniting a kaleidoscope of sensations that leave you seeing stars and unraveling at the seams.

“That’s it, babe. You’re taking me so well,” he pants, his voice thick with desire and need, echoing the frantic rhythm of your own breathless gasps. “I’m almost there. Are you close?”

“Yes,” you moan, elongating the word as if savoring its taste, your voice a symphony of pleasure and desire. Every nerve in your body ignites with a fiery intensity, fueled by the intoxicating sensations Jimin evokes. His touch, his presence, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, a blissful surge that consumes your very being.

As Jimin’s pace intensifies on your clit, perfectly synchronized with the depth of his thrusts, you surrender to the torrent of sensations cascading through your body. 

Every touch, every movement, sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, a culmination of the emotions that have been simmering beneath the surface for months. With each exquisite moment, you release the pent-up tension, allowing yourself to be consumed by the raw, unbridled passion between you and Jimin— you simply let go.

“Jimin!” The cry tears from your lips like a primal invocation as you spiral into your third orgasm, a deluge of ecstasy flooding around his throbbing cock. 

You’re left panting, a disheveled portrait of desire, as your core tightens around him, pulsing with each wave of release, coating his dick in a glistening sheen of your arousal.

“Fuck!” His voice is a raw mix of frustration and longing, his body trembling as your insatiable pussy seems to draw him deeper into your depths, culminating in a primal moan of your name as he spills his essence inside you.

You’re both left breathless, your bodies suffused with a warmth that courses through every inch of your skin, igniting a tingling sensation that dances along your nerves. It’s not just the aftermath of passion; it’s a shared ecstasy that leaves you both on the brink of shivering, though not from the chill of the night air.

As you ride out the waves of your climax, he continues to thrust inside you, his warmth flooding your depths, and you revel in the raw intimacy of it all. Even as his dick gradually softens, he remains nestled within you, both of you panting for air.

Droplets of sweat trickle down from his forehead, teasing your breasts with their warm caress. Despite the exhaustion etched on his face, he still radiates a captivating allure that leaves you breathless.

You feel the warmth of his semen trickling out of your pussy, tracing a tantalizing path down to your ass, leaving you feeling both sticky and sweaty.

You gently lower your legs from his shoulders, allowing them to find solid ground beside him. Gasping for air, a wide grin spreads across your face, punctuated by playful giggles. Jimin leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss that elicits a soft moan from you. Breaking away, he grins, revealing his endearingly crooked teeth—a sight that never fails to warm your heart. Damn, you love this man.

You lose track of time with him nestled on top of you, his warmth enveloping you as he remains inside your pussy. The gentle thud of his beating heart against your chest creates a soothing rhythm, one that seems to sync perfectly with your own. 

In that moment, entwined together, it feels like your souls are dancing to the same beautiful melody.

As he withdraws from you, he gracefully shifts onto his side, beckoning you to join him on his sleeping mat. You comply eagerly, settling yourself beside him, relishing the warmth of his body against yours. With a tender gesture, he draws both blankets over your entwined forms, cocooning you both in a comforting embrace against the night’s chill.

Entwined in each other’s arms, you drift into slumber, lulled by the rhythmic cadence of his heartbeat, a comforting lullaby in the stillness of the night. With your head nestled against his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing beneath you, you find solace in the intimacy of the moment. Your fingertips trace delicate patterns on his pectorals. As you lie there, embraced by the tender embrace of nature, the symphony of the wilderness envelops you, a melodic harmony of chirping crickets and dancing fireflies. Above, the celestial canopy twinkles with a myriad of stars, casting a celestial glow upon your sanctuary, a sanctuary where time stands still and love knows no bounds.

As the first light of dawn paints patterns of gold through the foliage, coaxing you from slumber, you awaken beside Jimin, cocooned in the warmth of his presence. Stretching languidly, you feel the gentle weight of his body beside you, a comforting anchor in the hazy morning. Nestling closer to him, you bury your face into the curve of his chest, savoring the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat. With a contented sigh, you greet the new day softly, your voice a whispered melody against the tranquil stillness, “Morning.”

He stirs beneath you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, a sound that resonates deep within your core. His gentle touch traces the curve of your spine, sending shivers cascading down your skin, igniting a familiar heat within you. The memory of last night dances at the edges of your consciousness, teasing and tantalizing, as his fingers linger on the curve of your ass, coaxing your body to life with every caress.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” His voice, warm and inviting, rouses you from the haze of sleep, like the first light of dawn piercing through the darkness. You blink away the remnants of dreams, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. His laughter, a melody of morning, dances in the air, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. As he opens his eyes, you find yourself captured by the depth of his gaze, a silent exchange of morning greetings between two souls entwined in the quiet serenity of dawn.

“Amazing,” you exhale the word against his chest, the warmth of your breath mingling with the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Soft kisses pepper his skin, each one a testament to the tenderness between you, yet there’s a playful edge as your teeth graze his flesh, drawing forth a soft chuckle from him, like music to your ears, a sweet symphony of affection.

He moves with a fluid grace, rolling you over and settling above you as the weight of his presence envelops you once more. His lips meet yours in a gentle caress, carrying the essence of dawn itself, a blend of morning flowers and the earthy musk of the forest. You inhale deeply, savoring his scent as it ignites a primal longing within you, tightening your core with desire. With a soft moan, you surrender to his kiss, your hands pulling him closer, as if trying to meld your beings together in a timeless embrace, unable to quench the thirst for his lips.

You sense the subtle twitch of his cock against your crotch. The warmth of his skin against yours reignites the embers of desire, and you become acutely aware of your nakedness, a lingering sensation from your passionate sex last night, that you still feel wet from. The memory of his touch lingers, and your body responds instinctively, still tingling with the echoes of pleasure. As your mind drifts, envisioning how easy it would be for him to slip right into your walls again, a shiver courses through you, your breath catching at the mere thought, while your core instinctively clenches, yearning for his familiar touch.

“Are you okay, babe?” Concern colors Jimin’s voice as he notices the faint furrow of frustration on your brow. 

You offer him a soft smile, your fingertips tracing the contours of his cheeks with affectionate tenderness. “I’m absolutely wonderful, Jimin,” you confess, your voice laced with longing and a hint of playful desire. “I just miss you and I want you inside of me again already.”

“Oh, yeah?” His teasing tone sends a shiver down your spine as he playfully grinds his cock against your drenched pussy. You gasp at the sensation, overwhelmed by the flood of arousal coursing through your veins. How could you still be so wet, so ready for him, even after everything? 

It’s like your body has a mind of its own, craving his touch with an insatiable hunger.

His dick presses against you, throbbing with anticipation, and as he eases his fully erect cock between your slick folds, a rush of pleasure surges through you, igniting every nerve ending. Your moans escape in soft gasps, lost in the bliss of his touch, as you feel the heat of his dick melding perfectly with your own.

Each movement of his cock inside you feels like a divine symphony, a perfect rhythm that resonates through your entire being. With each deep thrust, he fills you so completely, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. Your breasts sway in tandem with his movements, a visual testament to the intense pleasure he’s giving you, each pull and thrust sending you spiraling into euphoria.

As your hands find their way to his back, you grip onto him with a fervor you didn’t know you possessed, the intensity of pleasure coursing through you like electricity. Then, as you tilt your head to the side, your eyes catch a glimpse of it— Mikrokosmos.

“Jimin-ah!” You pant urgently, your voice breaking the rhythm of your thrusts. When he catches sight of your startled expression, he halts his movements, his gaze instantly flooded with concern.

“What’s wrong, babe?” His voice carries genuine concern, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress.

“It’s Mikrokosmos!” You exclaim, a mixture of awe and urgency in your voice as you tear your gaze away from Jimin to focus on the majestic sight. Sensing the shift in your demeanor, Jimin withdraws from your folds and joins you, his eyes following your gaze to where your black horse grazes lazily nearby.

You rise to your feet, embarking on a quest for your scattered garments, your fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties, eliciting a frustrated groan. Resolving to not put them on, you swiftly opt for your pants, slipping into them with haste. With determination, you locate your bra and shirt, swiftly adorning yourself in a flurry of movements. Meanwhile, Jimin is engaged in a similar pursuit, his efforts mirroring yours as he hastily dons his own attire. 

Amidst the shared chaos of dressing, your laughter fills the air, a delightful symphony blending with the rustle of fabric and the gentle morning breeze.

As you don your attire with practiced efficiency, you slide your boots on, the leather molding comfortably around your feet. With deliberate steps, you approach Mikrokosmos, the ground yielding softly beneath your weight. Jimin shadows your movements, his presence a reassuring anchor amidst the morning serenity. Each stride brings you closer to the majestic creature, your heart echoing the rhythm of hoofbeats as you draw near.

“Come here, girl,” you murmur, your hand extended like an open invitation. Mikrokosmos raises her head, her gaze fixated on you, a mysterious glint dancing in her eyes, elusive yet captivating. 

With measured steps, she saunters toward you, a graceful dance of trust unfolding with each stride. As her velvety muzzle meets your outstretched hand, a surge of warmth envelops you, a sense of belonging washing over your soul. With a gentle whinny, she nuzzles against your palm, a silent affirmation of the bond between kindred spirits. “Good girl,” you whisper, your voice a tender melody amidst the tranquil embrace of nature.

You pivot slowly, no halter, no rope, no nothing, your gaze fixed ahead with quiet determination, “Let’s go home.”

Mikrokosmos follows your lead with unwavering trust, her hoofbeats falling into rhythm with your purposeful strides. Jimin’s eyes reflect admiration as he watches your natural affinity with the majestic creature. Returning to the other horses, you secure a rope around Mikrokosmos’s head, just in case she should get any ideas of leaving again, before tending to your belongings with practiced efficiency.

You saddle up Marshmallow, feeling the familiar comfort of the leather beneath your hands. Leading Mikrokosmos by the rope, you guide her onto the path, her presence beside you a reassuring anchor amidst the vast expanse of wilderness. 

The serendipitous encounter with Mikrokosmos fills you with an indescribable joy, as if destiny itself had intervened to bring you together. With each step, your heart swells with gratitude and happiness, a feeling that courses through your veins like a warm embrace.

As the trail meanders homeward, you turn to Jimin, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Thank you, Jimin,” you whisper, the words carried away on the gentle breeze, a heartfelt acknowledgment of his unwavering support. 

His warm smile washes over you, and you feel a rush of gratitude for his understanding. “No problem at all. I’m just glad to be here and help,” he murmurs, his eyes reflecting the same tenderness that fills your heart. Drawing closer, you intertwine your fingers with his, the simple act weaving a thread of intimacy between you. In that moment, riding side by side, the world fades away, leaving only the comforting embrace of each other’s presence.

His question catches you off guard, but the warmth in his voice draws you in. “Do you remember your fifth birthday?” he asks, a playful glint in his eyes, as if unraveling a cherished memory. His lips, so inviting and tender, curve into a smile, inviting you to journey back to that moment in time with him.

You chuckle softly, because you do remember, the memory flooding back like a cherished melody. You recall the innocence of that day, the laughter shared between you and Jimin as you played hide and seek, weaving tales of fantastical adventures. In that moment, surrounded by the whispers of childhood dreams, you realize the depth of your love with Jimin, sensing that perhaps there’s more to your bond than just friendship. It’s a realization that tugs at the strings of your heart, igniting a spark of hope for something more.

“Do you remember when you told me that guys couldn’t be friends with girls, that you’d get boy-lice or something?” he grins, his voice laced with nostalgia as he squeezes your hand gently. You roll your eyes playfully, the memory sparking a smile on your lips, because yes, you remember that too.

“I know I was insufferable back then,” you confess, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you wave off the memory.

“You weren’t. But you were oblivious to the fact that I had feelings for you back then, weren’t you?” He chuckles again, his laughter like a sweet melody that resonates deep within you, leaving you longing for more.

“I honestly didn’t. I just thought you were being a typical boy. But hey, I was five—how was I supposed to grasp the concept of love at that age?” You laugh lightly, a soft smile playing on your lips as you reminisce about the innocence of childhood.

He chuckles softly, his gaze holding a hint of curiosity, “It doesn’t matter now. But I was wondering…”

You find yourself lost in his hazel brown eyes, their warmth enveloping you, as you’re drawn to his captivating smile. With a soft breath, you respond, “Yes?”

With a tender gaze, he lays his heart bare before you, his words echoing with sincerity and vulnerability. “If you want to be my girlfriend. I don’t want to waste anymore time. I love you and I want us to be together,” he asks, his voice tapering off, a hint of uncertainty creeping in. Yet, you offer him solace, intertwining your fingers with his, leaning into his side, and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, affirming your affection without words.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Jimin.”

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 💜

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[neverlearnedtoread]

Spinning Silver

⭐⭐⭐⭐; the staryk king and mirnatius with the word 'wife' on the board: there's only one thing more horrible than a wife.... *rips off paper* MY wife

Oh?? 👌😉😏

women are fucking amazing and wonderful and terrifying and unequivocal badasses. especially to their husbands. it's about the fantasy of a marriage you have no control over being perfectly suited to you in ways you didn't even know it could

inhuman fae creatures that actually have a separate culture and set of rules they are governed by. they're much more powerful than humans, of course, but they are bound to their laws, and if you're smart you can work with that

fairytale-esque magic system that relies heavily on (1) trickery (2) Having Audacity and (3) the rule of threes 😉. we love a soft magic system that rewards big swings and BDE!

not one, but TWO separate arranged marriages engaged in HEATED pvp AKA two people bound in hostile matrimony trying to kill each other while having 'wait, are they hot? fuck!' moments

you can be cold and practical and still be a good person. you can be strong enough to protect yourself without sacrificing others. with a good enough grasp of contracts you can force a demon to leave your kingdom AND husband unharmed in a 2-for-1 deal

No.. ❌🤢🤮

multiple POVs with no names for chapter titles so you have to figure out who it is from context clues - if you're like me and love a little puzzle to go with your reading time, you'll really enjoy it (Novik does it VERY well) but if you get confused easily or don't wanna put in the brainpower its annoying and overly complicated

if you don't like enemies-to-lovers where they actually argue and are ideologically opposed, you're not gonna enjoy the romance subplots. this is not a 'forbidden-lovers' kinda enemies-to-lovers. this is firmly in the 'my husband misses me a lot - but his aim is getting better!' zone

really quick wrap up - it gets tied up a little too fast after the final confrontation with the Big Bad. i wouldve liked at least to have irina POV at the end because her side of things just. gets left hanging

Summary: Miryem is a daughter and granddaughter of moneylenders, and though her father doesn't have the hardheartedness to be a good one, she'd rather be despised for what she's owed than starve. Her knack for the trade, coupled with her sharp tongue, draws the ire of her village, and even more alarmingly, the Staryk's attentions; faerie creatures who only covet gold, they take her offhanded boast that she can turn silver into gold quite literally, and show up at her door to hold her true to her careless words - which, honestly, kind of backfires on them when she rises to the challenge and upends their realm into complete disarray, so maybe there's a lesson there for the next group of nonhumans to learn: don't bet the house against a human girl whose Had Enough Of All This Bullshit. She might win.

Concept: 💭💭💭 I don't know Rumpelstiltskin's story very well, and Ice Kingdom aesthetics aren't my favourite (you can blame it on my residual dislike of Frozen), but I DID read Uprooted before this. I wasn't as into the book blurb as I was with Uprooted, but I'm an experienced (and opinionated) enough reader to know when to trust my gut - if I find an author's writing style easy to read, and I enjoy how they handle their themes, I'm not afraid of diving into deep waters. If it's that bad, I can always DNF

Execution: 💥💥💥💥 As I've come to expect with Novik's writing, a wonderfully easy read; the storytelling voice flows smoothly and makes me want to keep on reading. No slogging through difficult to understand passages and too slow pacing for me! I instantly wanted to collect every POV character like puppies in a basket, no matter how brief their sections were. I will say the ending does forget what it wants to say and simply ends on a happy note, instead of a complete thought. It doesn't tie in the POV characters together strongly enough - I would've loved to see an epilogue scenes with the 3 main female characters supporting each other, or at least being three distinct Bad Bitches!

Personal Enjoyment: ❤❤❤❤❤ Mostly because of Irina and Miryem (and Wanda)'s absolute BDE. They truly brought their stories to life and felt very dynamic, constantly driving the story forward through their actions, especially because their personalities and characteristics were so well-suited to the challenges they faced (Miryem rules-lawyering the Staryk, Irina taking to politics, Wanda keeping faith despite all the shit she's been through). Honorary shoutout to the complete hilarity of Mirnatius's POV (though ultimately it IS more indulgence than necessity, I respect Novik for it) - may he spend the rest of his life desperately drawing his wife in vain search of her bad angles!

Favourite Moment: the running gag of mirnatius losing his fucking mind trying to prove irina isn't hot. you know that post that's like 'find a blorbo to draw and your art skills will start improving so much faster'? irina is his blorbo. special mention of the scene he gets jealous realizing a random guard has a crush on his behated wife and immediately jumps to the conclusion that irina would want to fuck the guard for the sake of the kingdom. babygirl the hoops you are jumping........where is this gymnastics routine even going 😭 this man is not beating the meow meow allegations..

Favourite Character: It's really a tie between Miryem and Irina, who are both so similar yet different at the same time. Miryem's BDE was enjoyably explosive - she throws it in everyone's face, which is perfect to play off of the Staryk's otherworldly impassiveness. Irina's BDE was a lot more...steely. Quietly coming into her own as she realized how adept she was at politics, and how perfectly well-suited that made her to being tsarina - and when they finally met each other? it was so funny when were like 'hey...why dont we kill our husbands via pokemon battle??'

#spinning silver #naomi novik #books #book review #booklover #bookblr #reading #my hot take is that the staryk king is not immune to double dog dares. #staryk king: please stop asking for anything else you have already taken EVERYTHING FROM ME. STOP FUCKING ASKING! #miryem: what are you - scared?? #staryk king: #my OTHER hot take is that irina and mirnatius spend the next six months to a year irradiating (pun intended) EVERYONE in their castle with #life-threatening levels of pining angst and UST. #like theyre super into each other (everyone knows. fae living on the moon would know.) but theyre both like 'what if the other person #sees it as pity sex or thinks im just using them???' and instead of talking about it they simply. Dont. for ages #in a distant realm miryem wakes up to another day happily annoying her ice fae husband in new and exciting ways and is like. #'hmmm. somehow i feel like there's a disturbance out there. oh well not my issue'

[mir-osik]

Magic is Here for You and Me - 1

Fandom: Triple Frontier Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader Summary: While on vacation with his friends and daughter, a series of unexpected encounters makes Frankie wonder if 'happily ever after' isn't just for fairytales. Wordcount: 12.9k (Don’t look at me LOL) Rating: 18+ Minors DNI (Mostly soft given the nature of the fic, but there will be some spice at some point so just want to set my boundaries now :)) Warnings: children (Charlotte and her relationships with Frankie and the other guys feature heavily in this story so just in case kids aren’t your thing), widower!Frankie, brief mention of death post-pregnancy, mentions of grief, shorter-than-Frankie reader, eventual smut. The TF boys deserve their own warning.  Read this if you like: meet-cutes, repeated chance encounters, found family dynamics, three four men and a baby, match-making friends, tooth-rotting fluff, Disney World, vacation romances, and hot men being soft men.

Author’s Note: Takes place some years after the events of TF, there’s a minor discrepancy in when Charlotte was born, but it never comes up in the plot so we’re just going to suspend canon for it :) This is a wholly self-indulgent series and I know it won’t be for everyone. I spent a week at Disney World and saw so many hilarious interactions with children and their dads and ended up being super inspired to create an entire ‘The TF boys take Frankie’s kid to Disney World every year for her birthday’ fic and here we are! So this one’s for my Disney bishes who wish they could meet a Frankie Morales at Disney World :) Thank you in advance if you check this out, it’s my first reader fic and Pedro character fic, and I hope you enjoy it!   The title is part of a lyric from the song that plays during the current fireworks show at Magic Kingdom. P.S. Huge shoutout to Ren over at the-ginger-hedge-witch for letting me bother her with all my questions about posting reader fic, warnings, platforms and the like! She’s a gem!

Benny’s Disney World Itinerary: Chapter 1: Disney Springs Chapter 2: Epcot (7/29) Chapter 3: Animal Kingdom  Chapter 4: Rest & Recovery Part 1  Chapter 5: Hollywood Studios  Chapter 6: Magic Kingdom  Chapter 7: Rest & Recovery Part 2  Chapter 8: Epilogue

Disney Springs 

Benny has vacation planning for Charlotte Morales’ Disney World Birthday Extravaganza™ pretty much down to a science now, and thank god for it considering how disastrous the first year had been. He’d made the rookie mistake of cramming too much into too short a trip, and had grossly underestimated how much sleeping an infant actually did. 

And how cranky four grown men could get, even at the happiest place on earth. 

He’s picked up a trick or two over the last few years, like knowing how to cushion for a growing child’s unpredictable moods and naptime schedule, and accounting for the guys’ limits for theme parks and crowds. The end result has evolved into a rather solid itinerary. 

The first day in Orlando is easy, it’s always Frankie, Charlotte, and her honorary uncles checking into their resort by late afternoon. After settling in, they head over to Disney Springs — Disney World’s special retail, dining, and entertainment venue — for dinner and a little shopping. The days following are meant for the parks, with a rest day in the middle and one at the end of the trip before the flight home.

If you ask Frankie, the week is a good length of time to get the most out of not just the parks, but the vacation itself. Benny’s figured out the perfect balance of doing stuff and actually relaxing, and there’s no better remedy for all of the stress and responsibility of work and being a single dad, than having the opportunity to do absolutely nothing. 

They’re staying at Port Orleans Riverside this time, a first for them, and even he has to admit that Benny did well choosing a resort this year. The lobby is massive, the very picture of extravagance with its opulent period rugs and cherry wood furniture. Walking inside is like being transported directly back in time; he keeps expecting sharply dressed men with top hats and pocket watches tucked into their vests to round the corners, or to see women wearing hoop skirt gowns strolling across the floor, parasols clutched in hand. 

It’s silly, because they’re on vacation, but he almost feels underdressed in the faded jeans, gray t-shirt and flip flops he’d worn for the flight. Will lets out a low whistle beside him and Frankie knows without looking that he is sharing the same sentiment as he takes everything in.

Benny comes up behind them, slinging his arms around their shoulders and leaning against them with his sunglasses pushed down to the tip of his nose. The posture of a man entirely pleased with himself. 

“Go on, you can say it.”

“Say what?” Frankie asks, feigning ignorance and fighting back the little twitch of the corners of his mouth.

“That I’m amazing.”  

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Will replies, eyes dancing with mirth.

Benny is quick, tightening his arm around Will’s neck and snagging him in a playful chokehold. “Are you kidding me? For this? At the rate we got? I’ll remember that next year when I get rooms at the Grand Floridian and your wallet weeps, William.” 

Will ducks, twisting out of his brother’s grip and shoving at his shoulder lightly. He chuckles, readjusting the duffle bag on his shoulder and holding his hand up to catch the fist Benny swings in jest in his direction. 

Frankie has to give credit where credit is due, though, and he taps the bill of Benny’s hat. “You did good, Ben.” 

“Finally, someone who appreciates my efforts. Thank you, Fish.”

“I can’t work under these conditions!” Santiago calls, interrupting them. He’s several feet ahead, trying to wheel his two large suitcases and wrangle Charlotte at the same time. “Let’s go, you slowpokes!”

“Slowpokes! Slowpokes!” she giggles.

She looks like she’s doing her best to either pull Santi towards the General Store or escape the hold he’s got on her hand, Frankie can’t tell which. With Charlotte, it could be either or both.

“Why does he need two suitcases?” Will wonders, staring after them. “We’re only here for a week.”

“I’m actually concerned he only has two,” Benny mutters out the side of his mouth.

Frankie nudges him with his elbow. “What you really need to be concerned about is how long it’s going to take him to unpack.”

Will barks out a laugh at that while Benny throws his head back on an aggravated groan. 

“Fucking shit,” he grumbles.

“Come on you, knuckleheads!” 

“Yeah, knuckleheads!”

“Hey, watch that mouth, kid,” Frankie warns Charlotte. He gives Benny a sympathetic pat on the cheek before heading towards the check-in line to join her and Santiago. 

He notes that the lobby’s ceiling is high and only challenged in grandeur by a large, gleaming chandelier that hangs in the center of it. Despite the hour and the current illuminated state of the lobby, it glows warmly with light. His gaze moves to the white pillars lining the inner part of the floor, eyes tracing the ornate gold accents at the top and the thin lines of gold running down around the columns. Above the pillars, on the architrave, are the names of various Louisiana cities done up in elegant, capitalized letters that he can’t help but read while they wait.

Perhaps the most notable design feature, though, resides even further up, where decorative arch panels hide Mickey-shaped heads in plain sight. He makes sure to point them out to Charlotte, hoisting her up onto his hip when she reaches for him so she can get a better look. The way her face breaks into a grin when she recognizes the iconic silhouette serves as a sweet reminder of why they keep doing these trips.

Adjacent to the lobby entrance, a set of doors leads out onto a pier and a little marina with one dock. They were told that a manmade river runs through the entire resort, connecting it to the Port Orleans French Quarter next door. When they get out there, he sees that its waters are murky and dark, the sunlight catching on the rippling surface and making it glimmer a mysterious blue-black hue. 

Automatically, his eyes do a quick scan for gators. It’s unlikely they’ll see any; he knows the resorts have gotten really good about keeping their properties free of them, but he figures it couldn’t hurt just to be safe. He’s been out of active duty for years now, but the instinct to assess potential threats has never really gone away, especially with a small child around. If anything, having Charlotte has only continued to enhance that particular skill set.

The rest of the views are like a scene out of one of Charlotte’s picture books — cloudless blue skies, grassy riverbanks, trees everywhere. Pretty in all its greenness, magical in its tranquility. Impressive, Frankie thinks, and picture perfect. 

As if to prove his point, a very large family stops off on one of the bridges above the river, cellphones at the ready. The chaos of attempting to get everyone into frame makes him glad their own group is so small in comparison.

A cool breeze ruffles his hair, drawing his attention to the way it brushes at his cheeks and offsets the heat of the sun. With it, a sugary sweetness permeates the air and has him lifting his nose up for a deeper inhale. The smell is familiar to him — warm, buttery, comforting. 

Benny grins at him.

“Beignets,” he sighs, as if the scent alone were enough to satisfy his sweet tooth. He points in the general direction of Riverside’s sister resort. “They’ve got Mickey-shaped ones at French Quarter. We can pop in on Wednesday sometime.” 

He tosses a look at Charlotte. “What do you think, Charlie? You want some Mickey beignets?”

“Yeah!” she agrees, nodding enthusiastically.

Frankie’s fairly certain Charlotte has no clue what a beignet is, but he knows that she’s figured out that if her tío Ben is asking, it likely will involve something to her benefit — usually something sweet for them to share. 

As they keep making their way down the pier, he glances over to a quaint, brick-red water wheel attached to the end of the main building. He’s never been to the Old South, which is what the resort is meant to mimic, but he’s once again struck by how charmed he is by all the architecture, vegetation and general ambiance of the property. 

All the thoughtful little details shouldn’t surprise him. If there’s one thing Disney knows how to do, it’s create an experience.

“Daddy, look!” 

Charlie’s little gasp makes his head turn and he catches sight of a cream and blue ferry boat chugging slowly into port. It reminds him that the river serves an additional purpose: providing a water taxi service to Disney Springs. Their resort is the only one with that specific perk, a fact the front desk clerk had made it a point to boast about.

A fact that’s proven to be of extreme interest to Charlotte. She’s already begging for them to take it when they go later, her “Please, please, please, please” combined with her big puppy-dog eyes leaving Frankie and the boys little room to argue or deny her request. 

Frankie sighs exaggeratedly, matching her smile and poking at the dimple in her cheek. The twin to his. 

“If we must,” he says. 

“Yes, Daddy, we must,” she echoes, her serious tone negated by the way she jumps up and down excitedly. “Right, Tío Will?” He’s the closest in proximity to her, so his validation is naturally required.

“That’s right, French Fry, you’re the birthday girl,” Will nods indulgently. 

Charlotte catches one of Will’s hands, pleased by his answer. She keeps chattering absentmindedly at him while they walk — pointing out trees and the birds she spots in them, asking if alligators live in the river, when they can go to the pool, and if she can have a Mickey waffle for dinner.

Will is unbothered by her chattiness, he’s got patience for her in spades and is always attentive like she has the most important things to say. Even when it takes her a hundred years to get a sentence out or she repeats the same thing ten times. Frankie shakes his head in amusement, listening in on their conversation while he wheels his and Charlie’s suitcases after them.

The wood beneath their feet soon turns to pavement and rustic-looking buildings with tin roofs begin to come into view. Many of them are tucked off the main walkway, along more winding paths. They’re staying on the bayou side of the resort, so the swamp vibes are accentuated by bald cypress trees hanging over decorative ponds between the buildings. 

It wouldn’t be a Disney World trip if they didn’t get lost on at least one wrong turn on the way to the rooms. Especially with Santiago and Benny insisting they each are reading the resort maps more correctly than the other. 

“Ben, I’m looking at the map right here, I’m telling you, we have to go that way.”

“Listen old man, I’m looking at the map too and I’m telling you, it’s this way!”

“Can we go over here?” Charlotte asks innocently, smiling up at their scowls and making Will reach around to cover her mouth with his hand, effectively silencing her before she can get herself into any more trouble.

Settling in is a relatively easy endeavor once they finally get to where they need to be, the only one who ever gives them any trouble is Santi. He has a habit of unpacking his suitcase in its entirety in preparation for the week, and it tends to take an hour longer than Benny has the attention span for. With two suitcases this year, Frankie imagines it’ll be twice that.

Once Benny shoves his luggage into the corner of his own room — never to be opened until he’s rushing to get ready the next day — he meanders over to Santi’s to lay face down, spread-eagle on the bed. He lets his displeasure loose, whining into the mattress while the other man organizes his things.

“I’m hungry,” Benny complains, drawing out the vowels on the second word. 

“Ben, you’re a grown-up with a wallet, go to the General Store or the food court and grab a snack.” 

“It’s not the same!” he huffs, turning his head to watch Santi neatly stack socks, undergarments, and sleep attire inside the drawers.

“If you help me, this would go faster.”

“I would rather be eaten by the crocodile from Peter Pan.”

“Tick-Tock, Tío Benny!” Charlie chimes in.

She likes to be in there during this process too, giggling as she lays across Benny’s back and listening to Santi explain the benefits of putting things in their proper places while on a trip. It’s the same spiel he’s given since the first one they all did four years ago, but Charlotte doesn’t mind. 

Even if she doesn’t always grasp the things he tells her, she likes to listen to him talk. She always has, since she was a baby. Frankie can’t even count the number of times he had called his friend in the middle of the night with a screaming infant in the background. His apology wouldn’t even be halfway out of his mouth before Santi would just simply brush it off.

“Put the baby on the phone, Fish, before she makes herself sick.” 

He would tell Charlie stories, drowsily building fantastical worlds about whatever came to mind. Princesses. Puppies. Wizards. Anything and everything. Sometimes he’d recount shenanigans the team used to get up to, stupid shit that had Frankie chuckling quietly with nostalgia. Other times he would sing softly to her, Spanish lullabies his mamá sang to him when he was a kid himself, or Frank Sinatra or Etta James — the kid had an ear for the classics. 

There were even nights where Santi would just come over, shuffling in wearing his slippers, pjs and bathrobe. He’d look so haggard, eyes bleary and curls sticking up every which way. Wordlessly, he would take Charlotte from Frankie and sit with her in the rocking chair in the nursery, murmuring to her until she calmed down and they both fell asleep exactly where they were.

So when she still seeks him out, eager for the comfort of his voice even after all this time, Frankie knows he’s more than happy to oblige. Santi smiles at her affectionately, and then resumes his unpacking. 

Shirts, light sweaters and weather-appropriate jackets are hung up next, coordinated by color on the wall racks. He brings his own pants hangers, of course, and Benny can’t contain his eye roll when Santi pulls them out of his suitcase. Toiletries follow suit, set on the counter in the bathroom before chargers (yes, multiple) are plugged into the outlet near his nightstand. He places an umbrella on the table in the corner just in case, for unexpected rainy days. 

Meanwhile, Frankie and Will usually set aside their suitcases for later so they can catch a cab or an Uber to the closest grocery store. They like to stock up on water instead of paying for the inflated prices in the parks, plus Will always insists on grabbing some healthier snack options for Charlie to munch on, rather than giving her park food all day. 

By the time they make it back, drop off their haul, and change for dinner, Benny’s dragging Santi out of the room by headlock. The ruckus is only worsened by Charlie latching herself onto Santi’s leg koala-style. 

“Mutiny!” Benny yells.

“Mutiny!” Charlie repeats, laughing like a hyena. “Hi, Daddy! Hi, Tío Will! Tío Santi’s our prisoner and we’re pirates of the Carry-bean!”

“Good job, French Fry,” Will grins, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels as he surveys the scene and her handiwork. “Don’t be afraid to use your teeth either, just like I taught you.”

Santi scowls at Will. “Carlota Xiomara Morales, do not bite me! And it’s Caribbean!”

Frankie rolls his eyes at them. There isn’t any heat behind the gesture, but he knows he needs to put an end to this chaos now, otherwise Santi will take Benny to the ground and they’ll wrestle right past their dinner reservation. He makes a show of grabbing Charlie around the waist and throwing her over his shoulder. 

“Alright, ye scallywags, it’s time to set sail.”

She giggles some more, kicking her feet while she hangs upside down. It’s an old routine, one she very much delights in, but it gets the point across and the guys all fall in line behind them, their easy banter and laughter following him and Charlotte all the way to the docks. 

When they arrive at the venue, it becomes apparent very fast that they’ve picked a busy night to head out there. Even from the docks, he can tell that the music normally playing over the speakers is muffled by the chatter of the crowd. There’s so many people, it almost feels like a park in and of itself.

If he had known it was going to be this lively, he might have suggested staying in for the evening and just ordering a pizza, but he knows the first night dinner is the only opportunity he’ll have to acclimate to the crowds and energy unique to Disney World. The frazzled parents and rowdy children, the bright-eyed first-timers and the seasoned annual pass holders, the obscenely long waits for everything — it can be a lot at times, and he always prefers to ease his way into the trip rather than diving in headfirst.   

After they disembark, Frankie takes a second to bundle Charlie into a Haunted Mansion sweater, a thoughtful early birthday gift from Will’s best friend, Jasmine. It’s bright purple with the hitchhiking ghosts screen printed on the front in black and Charlotte absolutely loves it. He already has his doubts that he’ll be able to get her to wear anything else the rest of the week. 

She holds her arms up when he’s finished, silently asking to be picked up, and it makes his heart ache sweetly in his chest. He knows these moments will fade away soon enough, so he always makes it a point to treasure them at every opportunity. 

He scoops her into his arms and settles her against his hip, pressing his lips absentmindedly to her cheek. She reaches up to rub at the spot where he kissed her, where his scruff likely tickled, and he smiles at the way her nose scrunches up at him.

“Can I have a cookie now?” she asks, giving him that doe-eyed look she knows he can’t resist. 

“If you finish your dinner.” 

They’re working on compromising. 

“Okay,” she sighs, and her pout looks so much like his, he wants to laugh.

“Okay,” he agrees, then, whispering conspiratorially, “But I bet you could get your tío Santi to get you that Little Mermaid bubble wand over there.”

He tilts his head towards the shop they’re coming up on and Charlie’s eyes light up like the Grinch before he steals Christmas. She wiggles to get down and Frankie chuckles softly as he watches her skip over to Santiago. Santi’s head tips towards her when she approaches, and from the smile on his face, Frankie knows he’s already wrapped around Charlotte’s finger before her hand even slips into his.

They're still early for their reservation at the restaurant that Will’s picked, so once they’ve secured Charlie’s bubble wand, they continue taking their time heading over there. The shops haven’t changed too much over the years, but there’s several they still frequent every visit.  It doesn’t take long for Frankie’s mood to shift. It’s easy to be affected by that buzz in the air, the kind that only Disney magic can create, and he can’t deny that he’s already starting to unwind and enjoy himself. 

Benny’s had a lot of idiotic ideas in his life, but scheduling that surprise first trip none of them had wanted to go on, forcing them to do it anyway, and turning it into an annual thing is definitely one of his better ones. 

By the time dinner finally rolls around, Frankie is famished. Their group ends up in the outdoor seating area of an Irish restaurant and pub called, ‘Ragland Road.’ The table is a little cozy for five, making it difficult to get all the plates situated; he keeps knocking elbows with Will and confusing his and Santi’s drinks, but all of that is easy to ignore when the atmosphere is so homey and comfortable.

There’s a live band in the middle of a set playing a song he doesn’t know. The beat is cheerful in a folkish, knee-slapping way, and his lack of familiarity doesn’t stop him from tapping his foot along while he eats. When he catches Charlie wiggle-dancing in her seat as she takes a bite of potato cake Santi offers to her, he smiles at the sight.

The food is delicious and judging by the nearly finished state of the other plates around the table, the others would agree. Even Charlotte eats most of her meal, a huge feat to say the least, and he deems it another win for the Miller brothers. Between the resort and the restaurant, the trip is off to a great start. 

Early into the evening, one of the staff had turned on the heat lamps strategically placed between tables, helping to ward off the nighttime chill. Frankie shed his jacket a while ago, having been warmed further by his meal and the beer he had as an accompaniment. He’s pushed his chair back a little, too, sliding down his seat so he can lean back and stretch his legs, take the pressure off his stomach. 

He can tell the day’s catching up to him. Travel fatigue, in combination with being full and content, begins to weigh on his shoulders and make his mind feel a little sluggish, like he’s watching everything from behind a fog. 

A bed sounds nice, and so does sleep for that matter, but the guys are chatty tonight and many years of experience has taught him that they’ve got at least another hour in them before calling it a day. He doesn’t mind too much; he’s happy just to sit and listen to them trade stories and laughs over another round of drinks.

They reminisce about the old days and catch up on life, not an unusual occurrence for them as they do this already at least once a week. The result of a camaraderie forged in military service and a brotherhood kept long after retirement. 

There are dinners and weekend BBQs, random visits throughout the week. Hell, even game nights if Benny can get them drunk enough. Sometimes evenings at the local dive bar, so long as Frankie can find a sitter. Still, despite the regular meetups, it’s nice to be in a different setting and away from the ‘everyday’ of their lives for once.

“Daddy, I want to go on the balloon ride!” 

Charlotte’s voice cuts through his thoughts, reminding him of the hot air balloon they’d seen earlier on their way to the restaurant. It’s been a number of years that they’ve been coming out here, but they have yet to actually ride it.

“Sorry, kid,” Santi tells her, tugging playfully on one of her curls. “The balloon ride is already closed. How about we finish coloring-”

“I don’t want to color anymore!”

Her pitch is one octave away from tantrum levels and Frankie frowns.

“Charlotte.” 

She pauses for a second, contemplates the warning tone in his voice and knows she’s toeing quite closely to a reprimand. She ends up huffing anyway, “Well, I don’t!” 

It surprises him, the way she snaps back, and it takes him a second to regroup.

“Alright,” he replies slowly, calmly. “That’s fine. You don’t have to color anymore if you don’t want to. But we can say that without yelling at people, okay?”

“That right, French Fry,” Will chimes in. “Sometimes if you yell at people, it can hurt their feelings, and you don’t want to hurt Santi’s feelings, do you?” 

She eyes the both of them stubbornly, bottom lip poking out in a pout. He can see the way her mind is weighing out the repercussions of whatever she decides to say next and it simultaneously terrifies him and fills him with so much pride witnessing how clever and astute she is even at her young age. Eventually she shakes her head and Frankie runs his hand soothingly down her hair. 

“I bet Santi would feel better if you said ‘sorry’ to him. What do you think?” 

Charlotte turns her head towards Santiago, who is doing a terrible job of trying to conceal his smile. He breaks as soon as she lifts her arms and wraps them around his neck, leaning down to draw her tighter against him. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“For?” Frankie prompts.

“For yelling.”

Santi presses a kiss to her temple and pats her comfortingly on the back. “You’re alright, pescadito. Thank you for apologizing, that’s very good manners.” 

She’s tired, he mouths to Frankie, resting his cheek on her head when she keeps close.

He gets it, travel days are difficult enough as it is for regular adults and he imagines they’re even worse for tiny humans. Plus, there’s only so much coloring a kid can do on their placemat before they start getting antsy. But now that she’s gotten a little older and her attention span has gotten shorter, he’s started to notice that his sweet little girl is becoming a bit of a pint-sized demon. 

When Charlie peeks out from her hiding spot in Santi’s neck, Benny beckons her over to him with a few crooks of his finger. 

“Carlota, mi tesoro,” he sing-songs.

Frankie smiles at that. Benny’s accent is terrible beyond belief, but Frankie appreciates the effort he and Will have been putting in to learn Spanish in their free time. 

Charlotte’s sad little pout transforms almost immediately as her tío Ben takes her hand. He gets up to twirl her beside the stage with the band’s latest tune playing in the background. Out of all of them, Benny’s always been the best at being able to redirect an impending meltdown and getting some of that energy out. Probably because he has it in equal measure. 

The knot loosens in his chest with the situation effectively diffused. Her tantrums don’t happen all the time, thankfully, but when they do, they’re definitely not fun for either of them. While he’s doing his best to parent her through this new stage in her development, he’s finding it more challenging than he anticipated.

He’s never been more grateful that he’s got extra sets of hands to help him with Charlotte than during moments like these with the guys having his back. Teaching her, guiding her, loving her as deeply as he does. Loving her as if she were their own. It truly takes a village.

Frankie grins watching Benny and Charlotte together. Her dark hair fans out around her as she spins under his arm again, and the dimple in her cheek deepening with her smile is only further sweetened by her joy. He can feel his heart light up with her bright peals of laughter and he hopes that she always feels like this: carefree, happy, cherished. That’s all he could ever want for her.

As the night winds down, and Charlotte’s energy finally begins to wane, she climbs into Frankie’s lap to snuggle into his chest. Her little cheek presses right over his heart and the easy way she makes herself comfortable against him makes him sigh happily. He’s only half-listening to Santi chat about a woman he met at a bar recently. It’s decidedly inappropriate conversation for a five year-old anyway, so he’s glad Charlie picked that moment to fall asleep. 

Her breathing evens out despite Benny’s antics and boisterous teasing over Santi’s taste in women. Or rather, the kind of women often attracted to him. 

Frankie rests his hand reflexively over the back of his daughter’s head when Benny laughs again. The gesture soothes him as much as it’s meant to soothe her and keep her with her dreams.

When he glances up, he catches Will watching them, the other man’s smile soft around his eyes. Will leans forward slightly, lifting his hand to rub his thumb over a smear of chocolate on Charlie’s cheek. 

Frankie brushes a kiss across her brow, taking in the sight of the guys around the table. They’ve been just this way hundreds of times before, hundreds more since Charlotte had come into their lives. It’s an image that is comforting in its familiarity, safe in its constancy, and he feels incredibly blessed to be celebrating another year of his daughter’s life in her favorite place, with all her favorite people. Mainly because they’re his too.

“One hundred dollars she tells you she misses you before the week is up,” Benny tells Santi, pointing a finger at him.

“She’s not like that,” Santi argues, throwing one of the leftover fries from Charlotte’s plate at his head. 

Benny ducks out of the way at the last second but Santi is anticipating him and reaches over to flick his finger against Benny’s forehead when his lean puts him within striking distance. Benny swears under his breath, swatting Santi’s hand away playfully.

“She’s sweet,” Santi continues. “But she’s got her own things going on, you know? And thank god for that.”

“I don’t know, man, you’ve got a history.”

“What do you mean, ‘a history?’ A history of what, Ben?” Santi doesn’t snap, but his eyebrows pinch together with the question.

Benny looks to Will and Frankie for back-up, a habit ingrained from their days in the field, and gestures at Santi.  

Frankie merely shakes his head and laughs quietly. “Ohh, no, no, no, no. Nope. I’m staying out of this one.”

Will shrugs beside him, and Frankie’s brow lifts in surprise as their eyes meet. It’s obvious that Will’s feeling loose-tongued tonight, and unafraid of the consequences; his smirk is all mirth as he raises his beer to his mouth for another sip. 

“What Ben’s trying to say is that you’ve got a history, Pope…” Will claps Benny on the back as if to reiterate the point. “Of dating stage five clingers.”

Santi is unfazed by that assessment, however, and he doesn’t miss a beat as he leans back and rests his hands on the back of his head. “Well, when the dick is just that good-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Frankie’s response is immediate and protesting as he covers Charlie’s ear with one of his hands. 

Will chokes on his beer, moving forward to let the fizzy liquid drip down onto the floor instead of all over him while he laughs through a coughing fit. Frankie, ever in dad mode, holds out a napkin to him with his free hand, glaring at Santi all the while. Benny just groans, dunking his fingers in his water glass before shaking the droplets at the older man. 

“Hey, man,” Frankie chastises. “This is a family establishment!”

“Family establishment!” Santi says, his eyes positively gleaming. He shifts and holds his hand out towards Charlie. “She’s asleep! She’s not gonna know!”

“Yeah, but the kids at the next table have ears, pendejo, and so do their parents!” 

Frankie has a couple more choice words for him in Spanish that make Santi snort with laughter but he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright, alright. For the sake of little ears, we’ll keep it clean.”

It takes them another minute to all settle down again, the last bits of jesting and laughter filling the air. Once they do, Santi suddenly turns serious, and his gaze falls to him and Charlie. He nods at Frankie when Frankie’s eyebrow arches up questioningly. 

“Hey, what about you, Fish, huh?” 

He stills, eyeing his friend carefully. “What about me?”

Santi’s shrug is casual but Frankie knows him better than that. 

“You think you’re ever gonna get back out there again?” 

“Out where?” He keeps his tone nonchalant, his posture relaxed despite feeling his hands beginning to grow damp.

“We know you’re not that dense, in the dating pool,” Benny speaks up, reaching across Santi to pilfer one of the uneaten pickles off Charlie’s plate and grinning like a pirate. 

Frankie wrinkles his nose at that, inhaling deeply while he thinks on his answer. Truthfully, with Charlotte getting older, the thought may have crossed his mind a few times. Albeit very fleetingly and far between. 

He reaches up, rubbing at his bottom lip with his thumb and attempting to mask his anxiety behind the casual gesture. “Honestly, I don’t know, man. I’ve been so focused on Charlotte, it hasn’t been a priority.”

Benny whistles lowly in response and Frankie’s eyes drop to the table, his composure threatening to fissure under the combined weight of their attention. His emotional wounds begin to ache at the seams, dull yet insistent despite the many years he’s had to heal, and he wonders if he even ever really did. After his wife’s unexpected and tragic passing, his whole world has been nothing but his little girl and he’s just…never needed more than that. Never allowed himself to look beyond that. 

“I mean, it’s fine. We’re doing okay just the two of us, I think.” 

“Yeah, but how long has it been? Don’t you have…needs?” Benny wonders, eyebrows arching suggestively.

“Jesus Christ, Ben,” Frankie grimaces, feeling his face warm at the sudden scrutiny of his personal life. “Look, I’m not celibate if that’s what you’re asking!”

Will chucks his crumpled up napkin at Benny’s head. “Why you so interested in Fish’s sex life, huh?”

“Yeah, is your own a little lacking there, Ben?” Santi retorts with a snicker.

Benny, predictably, rises to the occasion, defensive and boasting about his own recent conquests. Frankie’s grateful for the redirection of the conversation, but with the truth laid bare and now at the forefront of his mind, he finds himself distracted from the rest of their heckling.

Sure, there’s been the occasional fling here and there, some one night stands just to scratch the itch, but nothing ever serious, and certainly not serious enough to disrupt Charlie’s life with.

Besides, Frankie’s grown quite comfortably into this version of his life without romantic love. He’d had to pivot in a way he’d never imagined, from husband and new father in one breath, to widower and single dad in the next. His entire world had plunged into a tailspin, and he’d nearly lost himself in the turbulent spiral of his shock and incomprehensible grief. 

There had been many days where he just didn’t know how he was going to make it, where trying to balance the loss of her with raising their newborn child was too much to bear. She was his match, the love of his life, his partner in every way, and the abrupt absence of her had been debilitating, his heartbreak suffocating. He could never seem to catch his breath, choking on the air trapped in his lungs until they started to burn, until they felt near exploding, and even then, simply enduring.

Anything could set him off: seeing her toothbrush in the holder next to his, realizing he poured two cups of coffee in the morning instead of one, her favorite song on the radio. Even Charlotte smiling for the first time. That was perhaps the most difficult, all the little things and all the big things she’d missed and would continue to miss where their daughter was concerned. 

But even in that darkness, even with all that despair, the light had always been Charlotte. She could steady him with a look, ground him with the grasp of her tiny hand around his finger, soothe him by simply needing him in the ways that infants need someone to care for them. To be fed, changed, held, loved. 

And so he did. 

And bit by bit she’d forced him to piece the broken shards of himself together. It hadn’t been easy and some of the pieces never really fit back properly, the remaining shapes made too small by his unending pain or too big by his lingering rage, but what had remained of himself he’d simply given wholly to her. He’d endeavored to be the kind of father she deserved, the kind of man her mother would have been proud of.

Some days it almost felt wrong to keep living the way that they had, to keep having those little slivers of happiness — her first steps, her first birthday, her first word (“dada”) — when half of Frankie’s heart was missing. He knows that’s what she would have wanted, but it never made it any easier. 

There’s a bittersweet ache in his chest now, soothed only mildly by their daughter’s weight against him. He rarely speaks her name aloud anymore, but he still thinks of her everyday. 

Time has stolen so much from him, though. It’s just…the shape of her in his memory now. An image no longer as crisp or clear as it once had been, the tangibility of her — her smell, her touch, her voice — all things he can barely remember anymore. But she still exists in other ways. 

Snapshot moments in his mind, seconds of the life they once shared. Her smile the first time he tried to flirt with her. Her eyes welling with tears when he slipped her wedding band onto her finger. The way her nose crinkled when she laughed too hard. How pretty she looked in his t-shirts with her lips kiss-swollen and hair all mussed from his fingers. 

She hated folding clothes even though she didn’t mind washing them. 

She liked paperbacks over hardcovers, but disliked creased spines. 

She played Sudoku like a champ. 

She used to order onion rings as the side with her burger despite preferring fries because he liked onion rings more. His own were never enough, and he didn’t figure that out until after she was gone.

He thinks back to Santi’s question again, turning it over and over in his mind. The answer remains elusive, and perhaps it always would be. But that’s probably for the best. 

He’s already experienced a big, big love once, and maybe once is all he gets. Maybe once will just have to be enough. 

It would save him some disappointment, at least. Preemptively stave off any potential heartbreak — not just his, but Charlie’s as well. He couldn’t put them through something like that again. Not after everything they’ve been through.

He glances around at the table again, rubbing a hand over Charlie’s back. He’s not even sure what the guys are talking about anymore, but their laughter feels like a salve for his reopened wounds. So does Charlotte’s quiet snores. 

And if this is all he gets for the rest of his life, this brotherhood, this camaraderie and family, and the generous love of his kid…he could be okay with that, he thinks. 

Later, as they’re headed back to the resort for the night, Santi elbows him lightly in the ribs to get his attention and he turns his head towards his friend.

“Hey, about earlier,” Santi says quietly, just between the two of them. “Sorry if we overstepped.”

Frankie shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, Pope, it’s fine.”

“For what it’s worth, Fish, you and that kid deserve the world, and whatever that means for you, whatever that looks like, we’re always gonna have your back.”

“But?” 

“What do you mean ‘but,’ there’s no ‘but.’”

“With you, Pope, there is always a ‘but,’” he smiles.

Santi rolls his eyes at him. “Alright, but…” 

He trails off, inhaling deeply. Instinctively Frankie braces for the blow.

“You deserve a second chance at love. Juliana would want that for you.” 

Santi shrugs then, clapping him lightly on the back. The gesture is meant to be casual, but Frankie feels the pressure of it all the same, just as he feels the heaviness of hearing Juliana’s name spoken out loud. A punch to the gut that has his hold tightening around Charlotte’s small frame. 

“You’re a good dad and a good man, and some women find you easy on the eyes, though I can’t imagine why-” 

Frankie reaches out with his fist, knocking Santiago lightly against his jaw and making him laugh as he maneuvers out of reach.

“I’m just saying, you’ve got a lot of stuff going for you still. It couldn’t hurt to see what’s out there! You might be surprised.”

Frankie hums noncommittally at the advice, adjusting his daughter in his arms as they approach the buses meant to shuttle them back to the resort.

“Yeah, maybe someday,” he mumbles, more for Santi’s benefit than his. 

But he couldn’t have known that maybe that day was closer than he realized.

You love Disney World, truly, you do. But it’s almost criminal that there’s this many people at Disney Springs on a Monday night. Particularly during what should have been one of the least busiest weeks to go. It’s well after the holiday rush of Christmas and New Year’s but it doesn’t appear like everyone’s gotten the memo. 

Bus after bus comes to take people back to their resorts and your little group of four frustratingly continues to end up on none of them. The line is moving, though. You can tell simply because eventually you’ll realize you’re in a different place in it than you were ten minutes ago. 

Closer to the front, but somehow still not close enough to get on an actual shuttle. It imitates a park ride wait so perfectly, like an adult version of ‘Are we there yet?’ except you are both the impatient child and the irritated parent.

Disney magic at its finest. 

“Is there a single rider option for this?” Your best friend, Taylor, mutters under her breath from her place behind you. 

The question makes your mouth twitch at the corners, but as another bus pulls away from the curb, and another round of disappointed sighs and quiet grumbling goes up through the crowd, you can’t help but agree with the sentiment. At this point, you wouldn’t mind standing so long as you actually get back to the resort soon. Tomorrow is your first day in the parks and you and your friends are all eager to shower the day off before going to bed and resting up. 

There’s little else to do while you wait for the next ride so you reach into your bag for your phone to check the time. You have to plan for tomorrow, calculate exactly how many hours you have until you have to get up. The number determines your sleep schedule and whether you do the long or shortened version of your nighttime routine, especially because you still have to decide on an outfit and allot time for getting ready in the morning. Oh, and making a coffee and breakfast run.

Your fingers dig around inside the purse, brushing against crumpled receipts, a tube of lip balm, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer before you frown. 

Huh. That’s weird.

You grasp the bag, pulling it further in front of you so you can actually see while you’re rifling through it. Every item you know to be in there is mentally checked off as you touch each one: wallet, passport, some loose change from when you paid cash for a water bottle at the airport convenience store, dinner and shopping receipts, lip balm, sanitizer. 

Everything is all accounted for; everything, that is, except your phone. 

“Shit,” you mutter. 

The panic hits you quick and sharp. You try to tamper the feeling down but it’s too late, you’re already on edge and the way your stomach clenches tells you that you’re spiraling fast. This is the very last thing you need on the first day of your trip, your mind racing with thoughts of fraudulent charges, emptied bank accounts, and scam emails being sent to your entire address book. 

And what the hell are you going to do if you need to have all your cards canceled while you’re out here?

One of your other friends, Sasha, gives you a quizzical look as you start patting yourself down. Your movements are frantic, hands flitting between your jacket pockets, jean pockets and back on a second pass just to be sure.

“You okay?” she wonders, her voice concerned. 

Your eyes flit downwards in a frenzied scan across the pavement as you search between people’s feet on the off-chance you may have simply dropped it. But then in your periphery you catch sight of a young boy just as he drops a piece of chocolate. It lands by his shoe and he’s quick to lean down for it, but his mother’s reflexes are quicker. She grabs onto his arm before he can take it back and attempt to put it in his mouth. 

Shit. The Ganachery.

You can see it so clearly in your mind, how you’d been taking photos of the chocolate in the displays before setting your phone down on the counter when one of the employees came by and offered a sample. Absentminded and careless and entirely your mistake. 

“I left my phone at The Ganachery,” you sigh, the sound frustrated and grouchy as your fingers press into your temple where you can feel a headache starting to brew.

“What?” Taylor leans over your shoulder, her ears ever sharp. Automatically, her gaze drops to the ground as well. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I don’t have it.”

“You checked your pockets? What about your jacket? Your bag?”

She means well, logically you know this, but there’s nothing more irritating when you’re on the verge of a minor crisis than someone trying to tell you to do the things you’ve already done. Another agitated sigh escapes between your lips. 

“I have to go back,” you announce, wasting no time unclipping one of the ropes helping to designate the boarding line for the buses so you can slip out of line.

Reese, the fourth in your friend group, pokes her head out from behind Sasha’s. Her phone already tucked to her ear, no doubt attempting to call yours. 

“I’ll go with you, so you don’t have to be alone on the way back.”

You wave her off. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be quick. I’ll meet y’all back in the room!” 

But Reese is insistent, saying your name in protest.

“Seriously, it’s okay! Just save me some hot water!” you tease, hoping your easy tone placates her.

She cups her hands around her mouth so her voice carries and you don’t miss the instruction. “Fine, but text when you find it and are on your way back!” 

You give her a thumbs up before you turn, speed walking out of sight and back into Disney Springs. In all the years that you’ve been coming out here, you’ve never lost anything once, let alone something as important as your phone. It’s hard not to beat yourself up over it, your anxiety a heavy weight in your stomach as you make your way against the flow of traffic. 

There’s a startled ‘Oof!’ that reaches your ears when you inadvertently bump into someone, but it does little to slow you down. All you can manage is a hurried ‘Sorry!’ while you breeze by. You miss the way they turn after you when you go, only left with the vague sense that you’d run into some guy in a hat holding a kid. Oh well, fingers crossed he’d at least heard your apology.  

Your frayed nerves only begin to calm once the shop’s sign finally comes into view, and it pushes you to jog the last few steps, bursting through the double door entrance in dramatic fashion. The irresistible scent of sweetened cocoa slams into you, but it’s the looks from the employees and other customers that stop you in your tracks.  

“Hi,” you greet the person behind the register, the word breezy and rushed as it trips out of your mouth. You recognize them, but aren’t sure if they recognize you. “Sorry, I was just in here about fifteen minutes ago with my friends. Did you happen to find a-”

“Phone?” The device is held up in their hand with a cheerful smile.

“Yes. Thank you so much!” Your shoulders sag with immediate relief. “You’re a lifesaver!”

“No problem, I was hoping you’d notice before you went back to your resort. Your friend called to let us know you were on your way to grab it.” 

You cringe with mild embarrassment while you approach the register and your phone gets passed to you. Of course Reese did, she is notorious for being the ‘Mom friend’ of the group.

“Have a good night!” they say cheerfully, waving goodbye at you. 

With your phone safely clutched to your chest, you back into one of the doors and push it open with your hip to leave. Now that you’ve caught your breath and the adrenaline is slowly working its way out of your system, your walk back to the shuttles is at a much more leisurely pace. 

You notice the crowd has thinned out some since you had come through just minutes before, and that only the last stragglers looking to close out Disney Springs remain. You figure they’re staying to either make the night last just a little longer or wait for a less cramped ride back to their resorts. If you weren’t looking to catch some extra sleep, you might have entertained the latter yourself. 

To your surprise, the boarding area for the Port Orleans resorts is much less crowded than when you had left earlier too. After you’ve shuffled your way back into line, you predict that the likelihood of you actually getting to sit for the ride back is looking pretty good, and though that comfort is merely just a little thing, sometimes the little things make all the difference.

You pick a seat near the front as you enter, planning ahead for easy access to an exit when it’s time to get off later, and busy yourself with your phone while you wait for other passengers to board and settle in. 

The group chat is popping, 67 messages waiting for you as indicated by the red bubble on the top corner of your app. It’s mostly the other girls sharing photos from the day, with the occasional snarky text about Sasha’s horrible photography skills and Taylor’s obsession with food aesthetic photos. 

You skim the rest of the messages, making a mental note to add your own photos later and to look at and save all the others at some point. At the bottom, Reese’s ‘Are you on your way back?’ is waiting for you and you let them know that you’re on the bus now and will be at the resort soon. A series of messages come in rapid-fire succession.

Sasha Vasiliev  Be safe!

Reese Fraser Don’t talk to strangers!

Taylor Crawford Absolutely talk to strangers if they’re cute! 

You shake your head at their antics, but the way your mouth curves up betrays your amusement. You’re just about to respond when a deep voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Guess it’s standing room only.” 

It’s honey-sweet and slow as molasses, and when it hits your ears, you glance up without thinking. 

Piercing blue eyes the color of seaglass meet your gaze, and then the owner of them smiles. You blink in surprise as you take in the rest of him, as you are caught off guard by his blatant attractiveness.  ‘Hollywood Handsome,’ Taylor would say, with his dimpled smile and perfectly disheveled sandy-blonde hair that’s just edging towards brown. 

His eyes light up at your expression and you don’t miss the way he gives you a flirtatious once-over. 

“Hi,” he greets — all of the charm he can muster in that singular word — and slows his gait as he moves past you.

Oh, here we go.

Your own smile is small, polite, but you don’t say anything back, not wanting to encourage him. 

The man behind him claps him on the back, drawing your attention and making you start. He’s older — if the silver woven through his dark hair and beard is any indication — and about half a foot shorter but no less striking.

Although ‘striking’ doesn’t seem to be a big enough word. Not for the classical angles of his face or dimples in his cheeks that have turned to creases with age. Not for his sharp eyes, rich like dark mahogany wood, or the crinkles at the corners of them.

He gives his companion a light push towards the middle of the bus where there’s space to stand. 

“Leave the pretty girl alone, Ben,” he says, winking at you. 

“What? I was just saying ‘hi,’' Ben replies. 

He sounds innocent enough, but you’re not entirely convinced. Apparently, neither is his friend.

“Mmhmm, sure you were.”

After Ben moves as far in as he’s able, he turns and leans against one of the bars flanking the steps to the elevated seats in the back. One of his hands is full of shopping bags, the other slides into one of the pockets of his jeans, and his feet cross at the ankles while he waits for the bus to finish loading. It speaks to his confidence, how comfortable he is in his skin. The kind of man who takes up space not because he can — or should, or wants to — but because he just does. 

He never drops his head, his posture, or his gaze for that matter, and as if on cue, it sweeps briefly over to you again. He beams when he catches you watching him and he gives you a little nod in acknowledgement, a little wiggle of his eyebrows with that relaxed smile. 

You look away, electing to ignore his easy affection. Connecting with a random guy during vacation isn’t at the top of your priority list, regardless of if it’s just a little harmless flirting. There’s only three f-words you’re here for: food, fun, and friends.

Speaking of friends, a quick scroll through social media shows that the girls have already started posting some of the photos from the group chat. You distract yourself with them, examining each post and liking them as you go.

You’re just about to comment on one when past the side of your phone, you see a man’s boot-clad feet step into the space in front of you. You groan inwardly, preparing to tough out the bus ride with a stranger’s crotch in your face. He doesn’t move, though, keeps his hip to you and you’re grateful that he at least has the manners and decency not to angle himself in your direction. You keep your eyes averted anyway.

“Daddy?” a little girl asks sleepily. 

The sound comes from directly above you.

“Yeah, baby?” he murmurs. 

“I wanna sit.” 

It’s not a whine, but it may as well be. 

“Sorry, mijita, we gotta stand for now. Just for a bit, okay?”

“No,” she answers. “I wanna sit.”

Oh, you know that tone. You’ve been around Disney World kids long enough to recognize when a tantrum is impending, and realizing there will be no opportunity for escape due to proximity, you brace yourself for the full force of her inevitable outburst.

“You want me to take her?” you hear another man offer. He’s standing beside him, just to the right of you. 

It takes everything in you not to look up and watch the scene unfold. Apart from it being impolite, you can already sense the stress and embarrassment from the dad. The last thing the poor guy needs is another pair of eyes on him.

“No, it’s alright, I’ve got her,” he answers. 

He whispers to her in Spanish, too low for you to really hear, but instinctively you know it’s meant to calm her down just by the soothing timbre of his voice.

“Papá!” she grumbles, a few octaves higher now.

“Carlota,” he tsks. 

And oh, you know that tone, too. 

“There’s no place to sit. I’m sorry but we have to stand. It’s just for fifteen minutes-”

“I’m tired.” 

You can make out the exhaustion in her voice as well as the frustration over not getting her way, and you feel for the kid. Big feelings for a little person; though you know not everyone will be as understanding. Or as patient. 

That’s the only thing you hate about Disney World’s transportation service. It’s complimentary, yes, and hugely convenient for getting around their massive property, but making people stand and cramming the bus to breathing room only, is a bit excessive and torturous for people to have to endure. Little ones especially.

“I know, Charlotte,” he sighs. “You hang on to me and go back to sleep-”

“I wanna sit now!”

The words explode out of her, sudden and shrill, making the bus go abruptly quiet as all of the air is sucked out of the small space. 

And then the waterworks start — deep, howling wails that pierce your ears and go straight to your head. You wince inwardly and take a peek up at her dad. 

Your first thought, humiliatingly, is: holy hell because you certainly weren’t expecting the little zing of attraction that jolts down your spine just from the sight of his profile.

Your second thought, more appropriately, is: how can I diffuse this situation? 

On a whim, you tap him lightly on the arm while he continues to try to pacify his child. His head jerks at the contact, turning towards your direction with an expression that can only be described as equal parts shame and dread. It looks out of place on his handsome face. 

He stills when he sees you, regarding you with his deep, deep brown eyes. There’s a flicker of something in them, too quick for you to really discern. Then his whole demeanor softens apologetically, apprehensively, as if he is expecting a confrontation and dreading it. The fact that this would be his first reaction makes your insides warm with empathy. 

“Hi,” you start, beginning to rise from your seat. 

He shuffles away to give you a little more space to move, rocking his child all the while. She hasn’t stopped crying so you make sure to raise your voice a little in order to be heard over her. 

“Forgive me for eavesdropping but…you’re welcome to have my seat.”

He blinks at you, mouth falling slightly open. “What?”

“It’s not a big deal, I’m happy to stand.” 

You give him your most friendly smile and hope your voice sounds cheerful despite its volume. But his head shakes resolutely. 

“No, Miss, please, I can’t let you do that-”

“Really, I insist! I mean, we’re about to head out so…” you trail off, gesturing at the bus driver sliding into his own chair. 

You smile again — disarming, encouraging. He continues to look horrified at your suggestion, but between his screaming kid, the irritated looks of the other passengers, and the time he doesn’t have to argue properly, there’s really no other option than to do as you’ve offered. 

Maneuvering around you is a little bit of an awkward shuffle, bodies bumping and brushing despite the attempts at propriety in such close quarters. You try not to think about how there seems to be so much of him, just…tall, broad, man tangled up in your space. Eventually he gets to where he needs to, and eases down onto the bench. 

It’s a tight squeeze for the width of his shoulders between the other two passengers who had been on either side of you, but he manages to make it work. You have the fleeting thought that Taylor would rate him a ‘15/10 Hot Dad’ on that feature alone. Shamelessly, you might be inclined to agree. 

At least in the privacy of your mind.

Almost immediately, his daughter’s crying abates. Her sniffles and occasional hiccups are the only remaining evidence of her outburst. She snuggles deeper into his chest, cheek laying over his shoulder, one of her hands clutching the front of his shirt.

She’s a cutie — cherub-cheeked, with curling chestnut-colored hair and a sweet little button-nose. Her eyes match his, and they’re already starting to droop, heavy with sleepiness.

“Thank you,” he says, and you can tell he’s sincere in his gratitude by the intent way he stares up at you and oh boy. 

You don’t know how it’s possible to feel a look, but you feel that one. All the way down to your fingers and toes you feel it. 

“You’re welcome,” you answer softly, swallowing the lump that’s suddenly formed in your throat. 

Without a fussy child between you, distracting you, your attention turns to other things. Like the scruff along the sharp line of his jaw, and the neatly trimmed mustache sitting under a prominent nose. The facial hair’s a good look on him, you think; it saves him from appearing too baby-faced. He’s got a baseball cap on his head that is doing a horrible job of containing all of his wavy brown hair, but that’s a good look on him too.

It’s the eyes that really get you, though — kind and soulful, warm like smoky quartz. 

You glance away when your skin starts to tingle, in need of respite from the full-force of his attention. It’s just your luck that his attention is replaced by his companion’s, the one who asked if he needed a hand with his kid earlier. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, rugged.  

He has a full beard, hair almost down to his shoulder with half of it pulled back into a messy knot. He’s got a way about him that’s unnervingly intimidating; it contrasts with the gentle smile on his face, the cute braid that starts at his temple and is tucked back into the tie, and you can’t help but stare in bewilderment at him. 

It would appear you are four for four on meeting gorgeous men tonight. Must be something in the water.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply back, suddenly shy. He makes you feel like you need to fill the space with something other than his considering look but nothing will come to mind. 

“Next stop, Port Orleans!” the driver abruptly calls out, pulling your thoughts away and saving you from continuing your awkward exchange with him. 

There’s about a half second lag before the doors all close with a loud hiss and the driver hits the gas, making the bus jerk aggressively away from the curb. You grasp onto the strap dangling above your head as a reflex, but horrifyingly, you have no time to brace yourself. 

The sharp movement disrupts your balance and you pitch forward with a sharp gasp — straight into Hot Dad — and the only thing stopping you from smashing your boobs into his face is the grip you manage to get on his shoulder, and his own steadying hand on your hip. 

His very large, very strong hand.

You hover over him, so close you can’t help but catch the scent of his cologne — fresh and clean with a little hint of musky sweetness. It makes your head spin, traps the air in your lungs as your heart starts kicking against your ribcage, the harsh thump, thump, thump a resounding echo in your ears. 

The edge of the brim of his hat lightly brushes over your cheek when his face tilts up to look at you, and your whole body heats up when your gazes meet again. It’s…strangely intimate, curiously familiar all at once, and that same spark of attraction from earlier unfurls in your stomach, like a flower blooming under the sun’s glowing rays. 

It is a reaction your body most certainly has no business having. 

“Sorry,” you tell him, the word rushing out of you breathlessly. 

Then the lights inside the vehicle go out, abruptly turned off and plunging you into darkness. The blessed safety of it where you’re able to avoid the intensity of his eyes. Still, you know little relief, your heightened sense of touch proving to be the next dilemma to contend with, specifically because you’re still holding onto him. 

And he’s still holding onto you. 

The singular sensation of the pads of his fingers pressing into your skin through your clothes, knocks you off kilter more than the driver’s heavy foot. You make it a point to pull away.

“You alright?” he asks when you do, voice gruff in a way that makes your cheeks heat and your palms clammy.

Your laugh is airy as it passes between your lips, full of nerves you hope he doesn’t pick up on. “Yeah, I’m good.”

But you notice he doesn’t remove his hand until you’re stable on your feet. 

“Sorry,” you repeat, trying to give him some room despite really having none to spare. You angle your body away from him, towards the front of the bus, and grip the strap like a lifeline. Your heartbeat is still thrumming in your head. “And sorry if I step on you or something. I swear these things are a death trap.”

He chuckles at that. “It’s okay, that’s why I’ve got steel-toed boots.” 

The joke is lame, but you find yourself smiling at it anyway. 

Trying to maintain your equilibrium is the most challenging part of the ride, nothing short of a herculean endeavor, especially with the way the driver takes the turns. You spend the next fifteen minutes obsessively conscious of the way your leg keeps accidentally knocking his knee on every break and acceleration of the bus. Apologies seem a little redundant at this point, though, so you keep them to yourself. But they still weigh heavy on your tongue. 

It’s probably the most peculiar experience you’ve ever had on a Disney World shuttle, and you can’t say that you aren’t relieved when the Port Orleans French Quarter signage appears through the window. French Quarter is the first stop on the route which means your own stop is coming up quite soon.   There are several drop-off locations on the Riverside route, but the lights at the main unloading area at the front of the resort are the brightest and most sobering. You blink against the sting of them while the bus pulls in, wincing when the interior lights flicker back to life again too and amplify the brightness. It takes your vision a few moments to adjust to normal and you drop your hold on the strap in the interim. 

Oww. 

The ache in your shoulder is instant, the muscles tense all the way down your arm. Hell, even your fingers feel stiff. You tilt your head from side to side, stretching out your neck and resisting the urge to reach across yourself and rub at the sore spot on your shoulder. With your luck, you’ll elbow Hot Dad in the face in the process. 

Feet and bodies begin to shuffle about, the rustle of shopping bags and backpacks and other items filling the air as passengers eagerly prepare to disembark. Out of habit, you reach for your phone. You mean to look at the time but the screen blinks with a text message notification instead. It’s from Reese, undoubtedly checking on you. 

And grounding you in a really needed way.

Food, fun, friends, you remind yourself. 

When it’s time to go, you don’t bother to say goodbye to Hot Dad or spare him a second glance. Whatever spell this whole situation had previously cast on you is effectively broken. Whatever you’d felt in those moments, gone. With the reality of being back at the resort, he becomes just another face, another stranger in a huge crowd of them visiting the parks and being on vacation. You bet you won’t even see him again anyway. 

You step off the bus, thanking the driver on your way despite his horrible driving and smiling when he wishes you a good evening. The temperature’s dropped even more since you left Disney Springs, and it makes you shiver as you begin the trek to your room. It feels good, even if your fingers are cold. You inhale the crisp air deeply, allowing it to fill your lungs before you exhale just as thoroughly.

If you’ve timed it correctly, the girls should just about be finished with their showers, which means you can get to yours as soon as you get to the room. Maybe even cram in a face mask after. If you hustle, you might just be able to fall asleep before Taylor too — she snores but will never admit it, and sometimes it’s difficult to fall asleep once she gets going.

You make it inside the lobby, past the doors that lead back outside to the little marina, and almost halfway across the bridge before you hear the distinct sound of jogging feet on the wood. 

“Hey, wait up!” someone calls, and you turn out of reflex, before you can think better of it.

Your brows lift in surprise, particularly since you’d already convinced yourself the bus was all you were going to get.

“Hey,” Hot Dad greets when he catches up to you. His smile is sweet, if a little sheepish.

Attraction flutters insistently in the back of your mind, beating its little wings rebelliously against the rational voice trying to stress that you are on vacation — at Disney World — and don’t have time for any more of the indulgent thoughts swirling around in your head.

Especially about a stranger and a father no less. He could be married or otherwise attached. He could be a murderer, the nice guy act simply just a ruse. Hell, he could be a married murderer even. Okay, the last two might be a tad dramatic, but you’ve watched too many true crime documentaries and you know that sometimes you just never know. 

“Hey,” you say back, noting that he is sans kid. 

A flicker of movement behind him captures your attention and you lean out past his shoulder to get a better look. You instantly recognize Ben from the bus, along with his dark-haired friend. They’re just outside the doors of the dinning hall, next to the lobby entrance, standing together like they’re waiting around for something. Then you see that Ben is holding Hot Dad’s daughter, swaying tenderly and rocking her in his arms, and oh, they’re waiting for him. 

Ben has the cheekiness to give you a little wink this time when he realizes you’re looking, and you’re 99% convinced he gets just about anything he wants with all that charm. Blondie joins them a second later, walking out the door with a bag from the general store clutched in his hand. He doesn’t wave but his curious gaze remains trained on you.

The dark-haired one does wave despite being semi-distracted with his phone, pacing around slightly with it pressed to his ear. His hand falls to his waist and you cant your head curiously. There’s an intriguing air about that one, like he’s fully in control of every situation at any given moment. Someone used to giving orders but not necessarily taking them. Suave, confident, a touch sophisticated. Like he would exude that same kind of power in a t-shirt as he would in a suit. 

Seeing them all together is something of a sight and a bit of an enigma. Four men, all with differing dispositions, all gorgeous in their own ways. You haven’t figured out the connection yet, how the four of them are linked and bound together. But you just get the sense that they are.

“I knew Huey was with you,” you tell him. “But I didn’t realize Dewey and Louie were too.” 

Confusion flashes across his face until he turns to follow where your line of sight had been. It takes him a second, and then he’s tilting his head back, a bright laugh rumbling out of him at your reference to Donald Duck’s triplet nephews. The sound is pretty in the night air, and the unexpected pleasure of being able to draw it out of him lights like a sparkler in your chest.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” he grins, turning back to you. 

The corners of his eyes crinkle and a deep dimple winks to life in his cheek. It makes his face even sweeter. 

He stands there watching you for a time after, and that look from the bus crosses his face again, like he’s working out an answer to a question only he knows. You start to shift your weight from foot to foot, self-conscious, unsure of what to do as the silence stretches on and the air pulses between you — all shimmering heat and endless possibilities. You tug your bottom lip into your mouth, chewing on it nervously, and it’s not lost on you that his eyes are drawn briefly to the action. 

You swallow thickly.

“Did you, um…need help with something?” you finally ask, trying to ignore the pull to him you can’t seem to shake.

That seems to break him out of his trance and he reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, suddenly shy. 

“So hey, listen…I just wanted to thank you again for what you did back there.” He gestures behind him with his free hand, in the general direction of the shuttle drop-off. “It was really nice and you- you didn’t have to. I appreciate it and I’m sure the other passengers did too.”

“Oh, don’t mention it. I was happy to help. I get grumpy when I’m tired, too, so I understand.” 

You shrug and give him a playful scrunch of your nose that eases the tension in his shoulders and makes that cute little dimple appear again. 

“Well, I’ve uh…gotta get back to my room,” you say softly when your cheeks start to warm from his unwavering gaze. “Early day tomorrow and all.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Of course.” He rubs at his jaw, fingers grazing over the scruff as he thinks on something. “I’d offer to walk you but, I know we just met and you probably don’t want a stranger to know where your room is…but, if you did want someone to walk you, it’s the least I could do.”

His rambling is terribly endearing but he’s right on all counts. “Thanks, that’s really nice of you to offer, but I’ll be alright. I’m pretty close anyway- oh! And I hope your daughter gets some rest.” 

His lips curve at that. “Thanks, me too. Thank you for everything else. Again.” 

You raise your hand in a parting wave. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” he murmurs back.  

And it suddenly dawns on you that this could very well be the last time you ever see him. There’s a disappointed twinge in your gut that shouldn’t be there but is and it’s silly, but still very difficult to ignore as your feet start to carry you backwards. Your body is reluctant to turn away, your eyes unable to resist taking their fill of him — just one last, long, harmless look before you go. 

“Wait!” 

He says it just as you start to turn away and it makes you pause. You glance over your shoulder with one of your eyebrows raised expectantly at him. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m Frankie, by the way.”

You know what he’s inviting by giving you his name — the choice to give yours back. What’s the harm, right? It wouldn’t change anything. You could tell him your name and it wouldn’t mean anything. 

Instead, you give him another smile, the corners of your lips tugging up. 

“Have a good vacation, Frankie.”

He shakes his head at you, amusement clear on his stupidly adorable face as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocks back onto his heels. 

“You too.” 

This time, you force yourself to go, to keep your eyes ahead and your feet moving. 

If you hadn’t, you might have seen the way he’d taken an unconscious step after you before catching himself, or the way his gaze had lingered on your form until you disappeared across the bridge.

The walk back to your room isn’t much further, just beyond the second bridge and right on the main path. Lucky for you since your mind is far too distracted for anything more than running on autopilot. You’re caught in a memory loop, incessantly replaying the night’s events over and over in your head.

You’ve read too many romance books, listened to too many love songs, seen too many romance movies. Have grown too fond of fairy tales and happily-ever-afters with their neat little ribbons and dainty bows on top.

You are on vacation, you remind yourself one more time, and you cannot romanticize a meaningless moment between yourself and a random stranger. One you are never going to see again. But even as you retreat from the bubble of that chanced encounter on the bus, and the subsequent exchange at the bridge, somehow, that man with his quiet demeanor and his sweet smile sticks with you.

End Notes: Re: Charlotte’s nicknames A ‘fry’ is a baby fish pescadito also translates to ‘baby/small fish’ mi tesoro means ‘my treasure’

Thank you so, so much for reading and joining the TF boys for vacation ;)

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #santiago garcia #will miller #benny miller #my writing #mihfyam

[bi-bard]

Households - Karen Sirko Imagine [Daisy Jones & the Six]

Title: Households

Pairing: Karen Sirko X Reader

Based On: Households

Word Count: 647 words

Warning(s): none

Summary: Karen and (Y/n) find themselves at complete peace when Karen comes home from tour for the first time since their bought their first home together.

Author's Note: We all deserve a little bit of softness. This is more an epilogue than anything else.

Part One of "August" [Release Date: 8/11/2023]

Part Two of "August" [Release Date: 8/13/2023]

YEARBOOK - SLEEPING AT LAST WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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

I knew that staying home while Karen was off on tour was going to be lonely.

Lonelier than ever before.

Karen being on tour was not a new thing for me. It sometimes felt like she was running from tour to tour while sometimes dropping into bed next to me while she did her laundry. I usually pushed it all away. Being with her was enough.

But now, things were different.

During her last break, Karen and I had finally taken a step forward and found a home together.

It was perfect. It had enough room for us to live, room for her to work on her music, room for me to work on my designs, room for friends to visit. It was a lovely place. One that we had dedicated a lot of turning into a home over that break.

But there was one problem with having all of that space and putting all of that work in... it hurt even more when I was the only one there to enjoy it.

I had no problem with Karen's work. She was happy. Doing exactly what she loved. That's all I wanted for her. However, I would be damned if I tried to claim that I didn't miss having her around throughout the day.

But that may have only made it feel so much better when she came back home.

I had spent all day making sure that everything was just as it was meant to be. I had made dinner and cleaned. I had specifically ensured that I took most of the day off so I could make sure that it was all perfect.

I was just coming back downstairs after showering when I heard the sound of a car outside. I ran out without another thought. Karen was just setting her bags down as I got out there.

"Hey- oh my god!" her greeting was cut off by me almost tackling her with a hug.

"God, I've missed you," I muttered into her ear.

"I've missed you too," she replied, still chuckling at my excitement from a moment ago. "Should we head inside or are we standing in the yard forever?"

"Absolutely, come on," I grabbed some of her stuff and started walking inside as quickly as possible.

After getting her bags put in the bedroom, I let Karen get herself situated while I went to set the table.

I felt like I was buzzing. It had been far too long since we had been lucky enough to share dinner together. It already felt like a miracle to not need to be sitting on the couch with the phone in my hand. Being able to sit at the same table at the same time was just the icing on the cake.

I was just turning around from putting down some glasses when I spotted Karen standing in the doorway.

I jumped a bit. "When did you start moving silently?"

"Sorry," she chuckled. I noticed that her eyes almost looked far away.

"You alright," I asked.

She hummed. "Yeah, yeah, fine. It's just..."

"Just... what?"

"I really like this," she explained. "Seeing you here... in our house. It's just... It feels right."

I set the glasses down and walked over to her. I pressed my lips to hers. Her hands touched my sides and pulled me closer.

I pulled away slowly, staying as close as I could without not being able to talk.

"I love you," I muttered.

I felt a circle being drawn on my side by her thumb. "I love you too."

I let out a quiet, relaxed sigh as I closed my eyes for a moment.

This was everything I wanted. To have these moments of love and care and just... perfection.

If it took those moments of loneliness in order to have these loving moments, then I would happily pay that price.

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#fanfiction #imagine #x reader #karen sirko x reader #karen sirko imagine #karen sirko fanfiction #daisy jones and the six x reader #daisy jones and the six imagine #daisy jones and the six fanfiction

[ashleybenlove]

Title: Cuddles

Prompt: None

Summary: She knew exactly where the kids and Toothless were. She just wanted Hiccup to see for himself. No need to spoil the surprise.

Fandom: How To Train Your Dragon

Pairing: Hiccup/Astrid

Word Count: 408

Rating: General

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: I don’t own the source material in this fanfic. That’s to whatever company or person owns it. I would never claim to own it.

Notes: There are probable influences from fandom and whatnot in this story. This is set post-HTTYD3 epilogue.

 AO3.

 And below.

“Astrid, honey, have you seen the kids? And Toothless?” Hiccup asked, as he came into their home.

 “Uh, no,” Astrid lied.

 She knew exactly where the kids and Toothless were. She just wanted Hiccup to see for himself. No need to spoil the surprise.

 Hiccup walked in the direction of a room exactly where she wanted him to go.

 Hiccup walked into the room and saw the most beautiful thing he could ever see. His beautiful best bud, the greatest Night Fury of all time, who he loved so much, was sleeping. And not just that! But his two absolutely beautiful children, Zephyr and Nuffink, who he loved as well, were also asleep! They were asleep together!

 Nuffink was lying on Toothless’s head, Toothless’s ear flaps acting as a barrier to keep him from falling off the dragon. He was also drooling.

 Zephyr was cuddling one of Toothless’s front legs in her sleep. She was very close to his face. Toothless could have licked her if he was awake and if he was so inclined (and knowing him, that was likely).

 Hiccup let out a soft gasp.

 “Yeah,” Astrid whispered, patting him on his shoulder.

 She heard him sniffle.

 “The babies, with my bud,” Hiccup whispered softly.

 “The babies with your bud,” Astrid whispered back.

 “I’m joining them,” Hiccup whispered.

 Hiccup laid down in front of Toothless, and gently caressed Toothless’s face.

 “Hey, beautiful,” Hiccup whispered, when Toothless opened his eyes.

 Toothless made a very soft noise in response, to avoid waking the children, but Hiccup could hear it.

 “Mind if I join you?” Hiccup whispered.

 If Toothless could have said “Duh” he would have. Instead he settled for a noise that made Astrid snort, before she scooped up her sleeping son in her arms.

 Toothless cooed at her questioningly before she laid him down near Toothless’s free front leg, and then laid down next to her son. She proceeded to watch Hiccup quietly pet Toothless’s nose.

 Toothless cooed at him.

 “Babe, I think he wants you to sleep too,” Astrid whispered.

 “Hang on,” Hiccup whispered back, still content with petting his much-loved dragon.

 “Hiccup,” Astrid whispered again.

 “Oh, alright,” Hiccup whispered.

 He easily positioned himself so he was next to Zephyr, spooning her, and had a hand on Toothless’s head.

 Hiccup took a deep breath (Toothless also followed up with his own deep breath), glanced at Astrid, who smiled in his direction, and let sleep take him.

#ashleybenlove fanfic #how to train your dragon #httyd3 #hiccup #toothless #hiccup and toothless #otp: we can do this. you and me. as one. #astrid #otp: i want to remember what you say right now #otp: i rely on you #Zephyr Haddock #Nuffink Haddock #fluff #fanfic

[makeitp1nk]

@hd-erised Claim: The Faeries, the Prince, and the Cupboard

Title: The Faeries, the Prince, and the Cupboard

Author: makeitp1nk

Rating: M

Word count: ~24k

Warnings/Tags: Kid Fic, Implied/Referenced Overdose, Hot Mess Harry Potter, idiots to lovers, Mental Illness, Hurt/Comfort, Empty Nest Syndrome, Disney World & Disneyland, Age Regression/De-Aging, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), BAMF Ginny Weasley, Soft Draco Malfoy, Parenthood, Childhood Trauma, Healing, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fae & Fairies, Fantasy, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy, Parselmouths & Parseltongue (Harry Potter), Insomnia, Fear of Sleeping, Sleep Deprivation, Drinking, Past Death of a Spouse, Divorced Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley, forced restraint, shared custody, H/D Erised 2022, Post-Second Wizarding War with Voldemort (Harry Potter), Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, POV Alternating, Family Dynamics, Co-Parenting, Travel, partially epilogue compliant, Post-Hogwarts

Summary:

In 1967, Roy Disney made a deal with a rare species of fae to build his brother Walt’s dream on their land. Forty-seven years later, that deal will change the lives of two wizarding families forever.

A story about stories, family, dreams, and love.

Fic Playlist because I'm extra AF

Author’s Notes: I've never written so much of myself into a fic--my fears, beliefs, experiences, and heart. It was terrifying to post. I hope you like it. Many thanks to Jasper and @anaxandria-writes for the cheering, @skeptiquex for the absolutely majestic beta read, @ladderofyears for the insights on children, @tackytigerfic for inspiring me to write my heart and helping me feel better once it was posted, and the mods who took pity on me and were extremely patient while making the fest happen. Lastly, thanks to @mars-bar81 for participating in Erised; it was a joy writing this for you. Your comments and love of the fic made this whole fest for me--you really saw everything I put into it, and I couldn't be happier to have you as my giftee.

READ IT ON AO3

#p1nk writes #drarry #hp-erised 2022