#HELLO I COME BEARING A PLAYLIST

[macfrog]

greetings from austin, tx cowboy like me chapter one

alright hwfg. first part of a dbf!joel series i'm gonna be working on. i hope you guys enjoy 🤍 please feel free to send in any requests or ideas, i'm constantly writing this so would love to know your thoughts!!!! love u all thank u sm for being the best

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: you return to austin after graduating to find everything as it always was. well, most things...

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), little bit of alcohol consumption, and lotsa flirtin and allusions to...something more

word count: 2.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

The doorbell rings and your dad jumps up. “Ain’t got no cash ready. Be right back.” He jogs off past you down the hall, but your eyes remain locked on Joel, who notices you once your dad’s gone. Or so you think. “Rude to stare, darlin’,” he tsks, bringing his beer to his lips. “Wasn’t starin’.” “No?”

Summer. Texan summer. One of the few things drawing you back halfway across the country to your hometown: bright, sunny, so hot the car bonnets burn your fingertips. It had become a running joke between you and your dad: he’d send a picture of Austin’s scorching sunshine, and you’d reply a picture of New York’s grey skies.

You were ready to come back home.

That is, until your flight landed onto saturated wet tarmac, during the rainiest month of the year. It hasn’t let up in the five days since.

You stumble off the bus into a torrential downpour and throw your hood back up, but it’s no use. By the time you arrive at work, your clothes are soaked through, your hair is plastered to your shoulders, and your mood is worse than ever.

Sal hands you a towel from the back when you walk into the office, but not before giving a hearty laugh from his desk.

“You oughta be gettin’ yourself a car, anyway, lady. Now that you’re back home.”

You give him as sincere a smile as your cheeks will allow. He’s your boss, sure, but he’s also a buddy of your dad’s. Gave you a part-time job for some extra cash when you were still at school, and has taken you back on now you’ve graduated. It’s in your best interests to keep him sweet.

The hardware store is the same as it always was. A little dim, a little dusty; same old tools and same old customers, but homely. You get to work unpacking this morning’s delivery, hauling boxes off of the trolley and filling the shelves. The day passes quickly enough, and you’re folding up empty cardboard boxes to waste the last half hour of your shift when a voice hums from behind you.

“Well, hello, darlin’.”

You stand up straight and spin around to find Joel Miller before you, trademark flannel and subtle-but-still-there smile on.

“Hey, stranger,” you reply, smiling back, before he opens his arms and pulls you in for a bear hug.

Joel Miller. Same as always: tall, rugged, handsome, dark hair and beard singed with grey, warm and sweet-smelling, grumbling, mumbling Joel. His chin rests on top of your head for a second before you pull away, and he looks you up and down.

“Been meaning to come over to see you since you got back, your dad said you were pretty busy unpackin’. Thought I’d give you a few days. Everything alright?”

“All good,” you reply with a nod. “I accumulated a lot of crap in New York.”

He smirks, shoulders jerking a little with a laugh. “Didn’t realise you’d gotten your job back in here,” he looks around, “you likin’ it?”

You shrug. “It’s money. And I know how things are run. Sal’s a good guy.”

Joel nods. “When do you get off?”

You glance down at your watch. “Five minutes.”

“You want a ride home?”

You take a deep breath and breathe out a, “Yes, please,” with a sigh. It’s been a long, damp day.

“I’ll just go grab these,” he holds up two boxes of nails, “meet you outside when you’re done, kid.”

He brushes past your shoulder heavily as he passes, something he always used to do when you were younger. You snort when he mutters, “My bad.”

Joel Miller and your dad have been best buds since, like, the eighties. Your dad has a few years on Joel, but they’re as close as can be. Grew up on the same street, saw each other through girlfriends, marriage, children, divorce. Never one without the other, all that.

Joel’s daughter, Sarah – four years your junior – is a freshman out west, somewhere in California. Another of the reasons you thought it was time to come home: your dad and Joel must feel pretty lonely having both of you gone.

When you’ve grabbed your hoodie and bag and made your way back out front, Joel’s being served by Anna, a girl you went to school with. She stayed here in Austin, has some side hustle selling makeup and perfume. She flutters her eyelashes at Joel as she rings him up. You cringe as you find place at his side.

“Ready?” he murmurs, looking down at you.

You nod.

“How’s things, anyways, Mr. Miller?” Anna asks, even as he’s turning to leave.

“Uh, good, thanks. Good luck with the…makeup.” Then he gives a low grunt and makes for the door.

“Not much of a talker,” you mutter to Anna, and flatten your lips against one another in the form of a goodbye.

Joel’s sat out front in his truck, looking down the receipt.

“Girl charged me for three boxes. If she wasn’t talkin’ so damn much about her perfumes…”

You pull your seatbelt over your shoulder. “Why don’t you go back in there and get your money back?”

“What, and subject myself to her battin’ eyelashes again? Almost blew me off my feet.”

Your head falls back against the headrest with laughter. “You know, you were the first thing she asked me about on my first shift back.”

“I bet I was, baby,” he replies, switching the ignition on and reaching an arm behind your seat as he reverses back.

You spend most of the drive home catching up, telling him about New York and listening to what antics he and your dad have gotten up to since your last visit home. It’s easy talking to Joel, easier than with your dad. He hums and grunts, lets you ramble, tells you what he thinks, then the pair of you fall back into comfortable silence until the next conversation sparks. No judgement, no lectures. Just Joel.

When you pull up in your drive, Joel casts you a meaningful look and says, “He’s really missed you, y’know. We both have.”

“You both have?”

“Sure. Gets quiet ‘round here at times. And with Sarah gone…It’ll be real nice to have you back again.”

“I’ll keep you on your toes, Miller.”

“Holdin’ you to it.”

“Joel? Hey, buddy.” Your dad’s voice breaks apart your conversation and you both turn to see him approaching from the garage. “Hi, kiddo.”

“Hey. Joel came in to get some stuff, gave me a ride home.” You hop out of the truck, and Joel wanders round to meet you.

“Well, thanks, man. You say thank you?” he asks.

You glance awkwardly at Joel, muttering a thank you like some little kid. He shakes his head softly in return, giving you a look that your dad misses, but you understand.

“C’mon inside, I was just tidying up. Stayin’ for dinner, Joel? I bet this girl’s been chewing your ear off about NYC…” Your dad’s voice fades away as he wanders back into the garage, and you and Joel begin to follow.

“Ain’t no need to thank me,” he whispers, leaning into your space.

You nod appreciatively. “My presence is thanks enough, I know.”

He nudges you toward the house.

Your dad orders in pizza and you set the table while he and Joel sit to discuss a potential new client. Joel sits at the edge of the table, turned outward to face the sliding doors, elbow hooked over the back of his chair. As you maneuver around them, placing mats down, you can’t help but note how fucking good he looks.

Tousled hair, unshaven beard. A broadness that even his own shirt can barely hold in; from where you’re standing, you can see where his neck meets his toned shoulders, skin tanned from the sun and the tiniest burst of chest hair over his collar…

The doorbell rings and your dad jumps up. “Ain’t got no cash ready. Be right back.”

He jogs off past you down the hall, but your eyes remain locked on Joel, who notices you once your dad’s gone. Or so you think.

“Rude to stare, darlin’,” he tsks, bringing his beer to his lips.

“Wasn’t starin’.”

“No?”

“Uh-uh. You got a stain on your shirt.”

His brows furrow and his head instantly snaps down to his chest. “Where?”

You snort, wandering over to put his plate on the mat. “My bad,” you whisper, leaning over, “must’ve been the light.”

Joel’s breath wavers only for a second, before your dad re-enters the room and he’s forced to compose himself.

“Alright, let’s see…Pepperoni, bleh, keep that one on that side of the table, please, and plain cheese over here.”

“See you haven’t improved Dad’s taste in pizza,” you say to Joel as you pull your chair out beside his and sit down, cross-legged.

“He – he’s immune to change,” he replies, then, only once he’s regained composure, adds, “or improvement of any kind.”

“Hey,” your dad protests, lifting a slice. “Cool it on the insults, here. You’ve been back six days,” he points a greasy finger at you, then steers it in Joel’s direction, “and you’re the one who turned down Lois last month. Talk about improvement, she could turn your life around, son.”

“Who the hell is Lois?” you ask, mouthful of pizza, aiming for chill, but coming across overly interested.

Joel shakes his head, only looking at you briefly from the corners of his eyes. “Receptionist at Clark’s Plant Hire. And I didn’t turn her down.”

“She asked you out?” Your knee brushes against his waist. He feels it; you know from the way his body tenses.

“She…said she’d like to go for a drink, sometime. I said yeah, maybe…some time.”

“Ouch. Poor Lois.”

He turns to face you now. “Don’t give me the same spiel your dad did, alright? I can decide for myself when I’m ready to be…datin’.”

“Wouldn’t he be nice with a receptionist from a plant hire on his arm?” Your dad fades into the background as you and Joel back-and-forth.

“If you don’t think you turned her down, why say you’re not ready to be dating?”

“Ha! See, my little girl,” Dad waves his slice of pizza around, “she got a degree, Joel. She’s smarter ‘n us. She’s got you on that one.”

“What is your degree in, again? Law?” Joel speaks through his teeth.

You beam back, happy to have riled him. “Film.”

“Film. My mistake. Must’ve felt like I was bein’ interrogated or som’.”

You decide to pull it back then. Enough discussing Joel’s love life – it doesn’t interest you much, not for the right reasons, anyway. The conversation shifts naturally to your degree, your graduation, and the year you spent living in the city afterward.

When most of the pizza is gone, the three of you sit idly chatting; the last Rangers game, the neighborhood barbecue coming up, the weather. Right as your dad voices concern about a job he has next week, his cell starts to ring in the living room.

As hasty and tactless as ever, he jumps up and almost knocks his chair flying. You and Joel laugh quietly as he bounds off in search for his phone.

You turn back to Joel, who’s playing with the label of his beer bottle.

“Hey.” You nudge him with your knee. He grunts in response. “Hey,” you say, clearer, this time pulling your legs up and over onto his lap. “Didn’t mean what I said about that Lois lady. I’m sure you had your reasons, and it’s none of my business. Or my dad’s.”

He stifles a laugh, sucking a breath in until his chest meets his chin. Then he lifts his head to look over to you. “Sorry I snapped. Wasn’t all serious, but I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m mad with you.”

“You can be, if you want.” You lean forward. “Just not for long, okay? It’d be a long summer with just my dad to hang with if Sarah’s gone and you ain’t talking to me.”

This time he laughs. For real. You mirror his swollen cheeks, glad to see you’ve amused him. He puts the bottle on the table and his hands fall to your ankles, where he gently rubs with his thumbs.

“When does she get home?” you ask him.

“Couple weeks. Still got finals and all that to worry about.”

You nod knowingly, muttering, “Rough.”

He gently lifts your legs from his lap and stands, towering over you, your chin inches away from his belt buckle as you look up at him. He doesn’t move, just brings a hand down to cup your jaw and tilt your head back ever so slightly with his thumb under your chin.

You can feel your pulse in your throat. You know Joel can, too. You clench between your legs, an ache forming there, and the only thought behind your eyes is him remedying it.

You bring your hands up to settle behind his thighs, trying desperately to send him a message through your doe eyes. Something in the way the corners of his mouth rise almost imperceptibly tells you he hears you loud and clear.

Your dad bursts back into the room like a bat out of hell, and the two of you spring apart.

“Supplier had some trouble with directions,” he mutters, tossing his cell onto the counter.

Joel grumbles in response, then, like nothing at all out of the ordinary just happened, begins gathering the bottles and gestures to you to grab the pizza boxes. You follow him over to the sink where you set the boxes down and he runs the bottles under the faucet, filling them up and pouring the dregs of beer down the drain.

Your dad’s busy clearing the placemats from the table, babbling to himself about work, when you feel Joel’s shoulder lean into yours.

“Trouble,” he murmurs.

You tilt your head and furrow your brows in response.

“You,” he breathes, “are nothin’ but trouble.”

You smile back at him gleefully.

Trouble, indeed.

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | part twelve

summary: luca meets the kimura family. you and joe grieve together.

warnings: angst, grief, death, fluff, conversations about divorce, second person pov, swearing, very little connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 4k

listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist

a/n: while this is in fact the second to last chapter, i will write more of them. teehee. but also, can we believe we only have one more chapter left?! let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part eleven | masterlist | part thirteen

This is not how you pictured starting October, grieving the loss of the matriarch of the family you once called your own, while on the precipice of something new. Straddling the intersection of the old guard and the new feels more complicated than you imagined, because how does one manage to feel so full, so loved, yet consumed by so much despair all at once?

Not to mention the merging of your two worlds: your old life in London and your new one in Copenhagen.

Your new one in Copenhagen with Luca. 

The ceremony, mostly just for ritualistic purposes, considering Aiko was cremated – something only the Kimura siblings had been a part of, was held in the backyard of the Kimura. childhood home. You watch as your worlds collide, like two cars crashing into one another – something that seems inevitable, yet still manages to be equally strange, jarring, and confusing. Luca reaches across to shake Astrid’s hand, initiating the action of the merging of your two words. 

“I’m Luca. It’s nice to meet you. I’m so sorry for your loss,” he says, his voice compassionate and kind. 

“Thank you,” Astrid replies, a small smile on her face as she looks Luca in the eyes. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances but. Thank you for coming.” “‘Course.”

“It’s so good to see you,” you exhale, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as your best friend wraps you up in her arms. 

You and Luca had shown up just before the ceremony started, and hadn’t even had a chance to say hello yet. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if it’d be right, if it’d be appropriate to show any earlier, wanting to give Joe, Astrid, and Lina the time they’d need beforehand. 

“I’m so glad you were able to make it,” she says, squeezing you tighter than normal. 

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” you assure her, as you pull back from your embrace. “It was a beautiful ceremony.” 

“Thanks,” Astrid nods. “Think she would’ve rather liked it.” 

You take a good look at your former sister-in-law. She looks tired, sad – the kind of tired and sad you get from running the entire show, from project managing your own mother’s posthumous arrangements. 

“Thank you for coming,” Astrid repeats, her compliment genuine, before zeroing in on Luca. “The both of you.” Somehow, in the midst of her mother’s funeral, Astrid still has the energy to send you a look – that look – the kind of look that says ‘we WILL be talking about this hottie later.’ 

“Love?” Luca asks you, as you turn your head to look at him. 

“Yeah?” you ask back. 

“I’m going to head back inside,” he begins, placing a gentle touch against your low back. “Let you say hello to your friends. But please. Take your time.” 

As you open your mouth to say something, it’s as if the timing couldn’t be better (or worse, but you’ll figure out how you feel about it later), as you spot both Joe and Lina approaching. They exchange a few words quietly between each other, walking over to you, Luca, and Astrid.

Joe walks with a sureness that comes from a lifetime spent being the golden son in a family full of daughters, while Lina keeps close to his side, protectively. 

“Hey, thanks for coming, mate,” Joe says, immediately extending a hand in Luca’s direction. His voice is warm, friendly, yet distant, as if he’s putting on his bravest face to get through this afternoon. 

“I’m Luca. Hi,” Luca introduces himself, meeting Joe’s assuredness with his own. 

“Joe. Joe Kimura,” Joe replies, shaking the blonde’s hand. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Luca says, courteously, your hand brushing against his at your sides. Joe only nods, his lips pressed together in a polite, yet tight smile, before shifting his attention over to you.

“Joe,” you address him, a small smile on your lips as you greet your ex-husband. “It’s-, it’s good to see you.”

It’s strange really, standing next to your new boyfriend, one that brings you comfort, that makes you feel safe and loved, in a moment of sheer vulnerability and heartbreak across from your ex-husband. 

“Hey. Thanks for coming. She would’ve been so happy to see you here,” he says, something softer in his voice as he refers to his late mother. Joe pulls you into a friendly, yet strained hug before releasing you. 

“Yeah, of course,” you reply, pulling away. “I really wanted to be here.” 

He nods, watching as you take a few steps backwards, so that you’re standing side by side with Luca once more. Lina lets out a disappointed sigh before greeting you, her greeting much more tense with Luca as he introduces himself to the last member of the Kimura family he’s yet to meet. The exchange is thick with awkward tension, but there’s no animus in it, from anyone, really. You don’t talk for long – just a few exchanges back and forth as everyone meets everyone – till Luca reminds you that he’s got to go on his way to meet up with his mum. 

“I’ll walk you out,” you offer, before excusing yourself from your conversation with the Kimura siblings. 

You know this home well, pushing through the crowd of people gathered in the family home, and out the front door. You’re not surprised that so many people have shown up to celebrate the life of Aiko Kimura, the legacy she leaves behind, apparent. 

“No need to rush, love. Feel free to stick around for as long as you need,” Luca says, with patience and grace in the words he says. 

You nod, giving him a half smile as you reply, “Yeah, I will. Have fun with your mom too.” 

There’s a pause between the two of you, both of you unsure of how to fill it. There are so many things you want to say, with no idea of where to start, or how to say them. 

“This is weird, right?” you ask, chuckling as a means to break some of the tension. 

He nods, cracking a half smile of his own, “Yeah, there are other ways I’d imagined meeting your ex-husband.”

You shake your head incredulously, as you sigh. The reality of the situation would be humorous if it were under any other circumstances, really. 

“How ya holdin’ up’?” Luca asks you, checking in before he goes. 

“I’ll uh… let you know when I know,” you answer, honestly. 

He mutters something under his breath, something about understanding, as he pulls you in close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, hugging you close. 

“Thank you for coming. Thank you for being here with me,” you whisper, against his chest.

“No need to thank me, my love. I’m here for you,” he reassures you, something genuine in his voice that instills a confidence in his words. 

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

“You could stay, y’know?” you hear the voice of the youngest Kimura sibling say, causing you to turn away from the photo board that hangs in the Kimura family living room. 

“What do you mean?” you ask her. 

“Come home,” Lina says this time, much more insistent, much more desperate. “You and Joe-.”

“Lina,” you warn her, as your face falls, because you’re not sure you can let her finish that sentence. 

You feel for her, really, and you can only imagine that it’s easier for her to focus on resenting your new boyfriend than it is to feel the pain of this loss. 

Lina sighs, shaking her head, her jaw clenched, “So it’s serious then? You and… the pastry chef?”

You wait a beat before answering,

“Yeah. It is.”

She shakes her head again, this time with an eye roll as she purses her lips disapprovingly. It’s as if she’s turning a decision over in her head, opening her mouth to say something, before closing it, going back to the drawing board. 

“But he’s an Arsenal fan,” she finally scoffs, with a snort, trying her best to add a little humor to what feels like an impossible situation by nitpicking at his favorite football team.

You laugh, adding your own playful eye roll to the mix this time. 

“I never said he had great taste in football teams,” you chuckle back, earning a groan from your former sister-in-law. 

The two of you share a look, one that says, ‘I love you, you dummy,’ and you can see that she wants to say something else. You don’t know what it’ll be about this time, so you wait patiently, giving the youngest Kimura the space to get out whatever it is that’s eating her. 

“I just-. I never understood… why you and Joe… why you couldn’t work it out,” she drags out, a disappointment in her voice as she finds the words she wants to say. 

So she doesn’t want to talk about her mom. 

You sigh, accepting that fact, while racking your brain for how to explain the question that consumed you for a year after. 

“Because, Lina…” you trail off, choosing your words intentionally. “It just wasn’t-, because I don’t know if we were supposed to. I-.” You pause once more before continuing with, “Because we just… grew apart. Wanted different things. And we both deserve to go find them, even if it means it’s not with each other.” 

You watch as she takes in your answer, only just beginning to process your explanation, as a man you recognize as Uncle Kevin approaches. 

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies. Lina, will you come help me with something in the kitchen?” he asks. 

“Sure. Yeah,” she nods her head, beginning to turn away from you. 

But Lina pauses; she’s not ready to go just yet. 

“It really is good…” she says with a sure nod of her head. “... to see you. I’m glad you came.”

Lina turns once more, following her uncle into the kitchen, without a look back. You take a deep breath, because it all just feels heavy. You’ve always been close with Astrid, but your relationship with Lina was different. She was much younger when you met Joe. While you and Astrid became close friends, much closer in age, you’d always suspected that Lina had put you and your relationship with her brother on a pedestal, the reality of your assumption becoming glaringly obvious now. 

You can only imagine the divorce was something hard for her to stomach, to understand, especially with her limited life experience. You remind yourself not to take it too personally as you slip outside, making your way back into the backyard where the memorial service was held earlier that day. 

There’s another photo board outside, propped up against an easel, with an entirely different collection of photos than the one inside. You smile to yourself as your eyes savor the familial images: younger versions of the Kimura children with their mother at the beach, baby Lina with a mess of noodles all over her high chair, covered in sauce, a photo of Joe’s graduation…. You reach out to touch one of the photos – a photo of you, Aiko, and Joe together, the day of your wedding. 

You can feel the lump in your throat growing, your eyes welling with tears as you’re suddenly overcome with a deep feeling of sadness. A few tears run down your face, and you sniffle, wiping them away quickly, as soon as you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. 

“I told Lina to be nice,” Astrid grumbles, as she approaches you and the photo board. 

With a quick raise of your eyebrows, you turn to Astrid before telling her: “Lina thinks I should stay.”

“Lina is barely twenty five and I don’t quite think her brain has fully formed yet,” Astrid quips dryly, and you know she’s not entirely wrong. 

“I can only imagine this is… all pretty confusing for her,” you say, suddenly feeling a little guilty for being here in the first place. 

“She’s young. She’ll get over it,” Astrid shrugs, brushing off your concern. 

To a stranger, her response would seem cold, callous, unemotional, but you know that Astrid has had to play the role of the eldest daughter her entire life. 

She’s had to be strong for everyone her entire life. 

“She always was a hopeless romantic,” you observe, turning your attention back to the family photos. “Lina.”

Astrid nods slowly, “I think she looked up to you and Joe. Looked to the two of you and saw what love could look like.”

“Just because it ended doesn’t mean we don’t still love each other,” you offer. “It’s just… different now. We’re not… in love, but we both still care for each other. Shouldn’t that be worth something too?”

“I think she’ll understand when she’s older,” Astrid replies in an attempt to offer you some kind of comfort. 

“How’re you doing?” you ask her, the words feeling silly as soon as they leave your mouth. 

“I’m… just going to be happy when this is all over,” Astrid admits, the fatigue in her voice more evident than ever. “Dunno if I’ve even had time to be sad. Been too busy doing… all of this. Think maybe I’ll crash the minute it’s over which… is bloody scary and also… guess, it’s something I’ve been waiting for too.”

You nod in concurrence, “Well, if you do, you know you have me. Right now I’m a phone call, a hop, skip, and a week away. You know, till we go home.”

She nods, stealing a glance your way, a small smirk on her lips in response to your usage of the word, ‘we.’ 

“And then of course,” you continue, slyly, hoping to plant the idea in her head now. “You can always eat, pray, love in Copenhagen… you know… if the mood strikes you. I feel like that would be, you know, healing.”

She snorts with laughter, “Yeah, I’ve got to get out there again anyways.”

There’s a short pause between the two of you, and Astrid’s still stuck on what you said earlier. 

The ‘we’ of it all, really. 

“So Luca’s really something. Showin’ up to your new girlfriend’s ex-husband’s mum’s funeral? That takes guts,” she says, prodding you for more information on Luca. 

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t think the bloke could be even more handsome in person and yet….”

You chuckle in response.

“Yeah he’s… he’s pretty perfect,” you exhale, sitting into the feeling. 

“It’s exhausting sometimes… trying to keep up,” you joke. “Only, then he tells me that I don’t have to be perfect and I can just be myself which… is even more annoying because it’s more proof that he is.”

“Well, I like him,” Astrid adds smugly, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“Yeah?” you ask, a stark contrast between her and Lina’s reactions. 

“Yeah,” she nods, enthusiastically. Her face softens as she says what comes next. “You look well-loved. That’s why I like him.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, hesitantly. 

“You look like you’ve found your heart again,” Astrid answers. 

And as you search her face for a reaction, for truth to her statement, you can see it in her eyes that she means it. 

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

After spending a little more time with Astrid in the backyard, you decide it may be time to find Joe. You’re not sure what you’re expecting, but you think that you should prepare for almost anything. It doesn’t take long to find him inside, so you wait for the right moment, watching him accept condolences from a couple you recognize as neighbors, as they’re on their way. Your heart pounds in your chest, your nerves skyrocketing because it’s all just so… weird… as you approach. 

“Joe,” you call out to him, your voice grabbing his attention. 

He turns to you, a small smile on his face as he sees that it’s really you standing behind him. 

“Is now a good time to say hello?” you ask, trying your best to be respectful. 

“Yeah, ‘course. I-,” he begins, before pausing, looking around the room. “You want to get out of here?”

“Wh-?” you start. 

“Fancy a pint? I just don’t know if I can do this whole perfect son act for much longer,” he scoffs, a playful and mischievous tone in his voice. 

“Uh… yeah,” you agree, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. “Yeah, fuck. I could use a drink.”

You shouldn’t be surprised, really, as you follow Joe out of the house. Your brain is flooded with memories of sneaking out of the theater to go get french fries, of parties to head to another party, out of his childhood home when you were staying with Aiko during your first holiday with the Kimuras. 

There’s a pub down the street that you walk to, feeling naughty for leaving without saying goodbye, and relieved that you’re getting to escape from the bleak, depressing awkwardness that is any funeral. You remember this pub – one you and Joe used to frequent because it was only a few blocks away – when you’d moved to London. It’s a short walk and the two of you can’t get there fast enough, eager to flee the scene of grieving relatives and humorously sad music. 

You and Joe find two seats at the bar, sitting side by side as you clink the glasses of your ice cold pints. 

“Cheers,” you say. 

“Cheers,” he parrots, the both of you taking your first sips. 

“Fucking hell, I had to get out of there,” Joe exhales a huge sigh of relief. “Been at it all day. Makin’ other people feel better about my own mum’s death. I don’t know how anyone does this.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda fucked, huh?” you reply with a sigh. 

“Funerals are weird. I’ll tell you that, mate,” he agrees, lifting his glass to his lips once more. 

“This is…” you start, nervous yet bold in speaking truth to the moment. “... also weird, don’t you think?”

You watch as he thinks it over, a small smirk on his face as he agrees, “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

A beat. 

And then another. 

And you’re lifting your glass once more to your lips to take another sip of the amber liquid that brings you comfort in the moment. 

“Is it alright? That I came? That we… came?” you ask, a little more seriously now. 

Joe turns his head to you, and you can see that your consideration means a lot to him. He nods slowly as he answers:

“Yeah. I meant what I said before – that she would’ve wanted you here.” 

He pauses once more, taking another drink from his beer glass. 

“As for Luca. Well, it was bound to happen at some point or another.” You nod, your eyes fixed to the resin-sealed wooden bar top as you listen to him. “I think we both knew that this day would come… Can’t say it’s a walk in the park but… dunno if most things are supposed to be anyways.”

“Yeah I uh… I certainly feel like bambi learning how to walk for the first time on the wobbliest of legs,” you offer up, reassuring Joe that you have no idea how to navigate this either. 

“Yeah,” he sighs. 

“But,” you begin again. “We outgrew each other, yeah. Doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you. About any of you.”

Joe nods slowly, because he knows you’re right. He admires you for how fearlessly you’re charging into this conversation, and wonders if it’s the new boyfriend – Luca – whose helped get you to this point. 

He can’t tell whether he wants to thank the bloke or if he’s envious, deciding that it’s probably a little bit of both. 

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have a different kind of relationship,” you add, avoiding the cringe factor of using the word friendship, even though it’s what you mean. 

Joe waits a beat, because he really would like to be friends, because he really does still care about you too. 

“So how’s life treatin’ you otherwise?” he asks, as an olive branch – a yes to letting your relationship transform into something else. 

You spend the afternoon catching up, ordering baskets on baskets of chips, and sharing what he’s missed over the past few years: that you have a restaurant now, that you’ve come around to cold brew, even though you swore you’d always hate it, all about the Mikkelson twins and how much he’d probably hate their wild streaks. In return, Joe tells you all about his new teaching job at a uni, that he’s recreationally been playing with the symphony as of late, and that he’s just taken a little break from the dating scene. It feels strange and normal all at once. While Joe feels familiar, like getting to spend time with an old piece of yourself, this rhythm and new kind of relationship that seems to be unfolding before you feels foreign, the dichotomy stretching you to opposite ends of its spectrum. It’s not something you ever saw for yourself – becoming friends with your ex-husband – but in the moment, as the pathway presents itself to you, you’re not sure you mind. 

“I miss her. So, so much,” Joe finally admits, as the conversation returns to the matriarch you both love with your whole hearts. 

“I know. I do too,” you say, reaching for his hand this time. 

He looks at you, a softness in your eyes in response to the gesture, and with a small smile, you pull your hand away. 

“I want to make a dish… for her at the restaurant. To honor her. And everything she taught me,” you finally say, almost as if it’s a declaration. 

You search Joe’s face for a reaction, his expression beginning to break as his eyes begin to water. 

“I think ehm,” he begins, his voice breaking. “I think she’d really, really like that.” 

He clears his throat, because he’s not sure he wants to cry right now. 

“You better send pictures,” he demands jokingly. “And you’ve got to make it for us, the next time you’re in town.” Joe pauses once more, as if he wants to make it crystal clear what he really means when he adds:

“You and Luca.”

Your heart swells and breaks all at once, in response to Joe’s blessing, because it means so much and so many things. 

“Yeah. I-. We will. I promise,” you agree, your voice caught in your throat. 

Joe nods once more, a finite kind of motion as he straightens up in his chair. 

“C’mon. Think we should head back.”

And as you walk with Joe, it’s as if you both take your time, no longer in a hurry to get back to the Kimura family home as quickly as possible. There’s a weight with each step that contributes to the slower pace, and it’s hard to ignore the deep sadness that’s taken root inside of you. On one hand, it’s been a long, heavy day of grieving the loss of the Kimura matriarch – a woman who taught you how to cook, who loved you as her own, who poured every fiber of her being into building a family that knew they were loved. On the other hand, as you stand across from Joe on the street he grew up on, giving each other one more goodbye hug that lasts longer than the previous, this moment feels monumental. 

Somehow, you feel the shift, the changes between you and Joe, even deeper than the day you signed your divorce papers. You’ve moved on and so has he in his own way, and you know that as you turn to go, you’re only just beginning a new chapter with him. 

And with Luca, because it feels even more real now, more than ever.

The magnitude of it all hits you, as you straddle this ending and your new beginning. 

 It all feels very grown-up – very adult – and you can feel the pieces of you that you’ll leave behind as you do ‘said growing up,’ fall by the wayside.

“Goodbye, Joe,” you say, one last time as you try your best not to let your voice shake. 

“Take care, darling,” he says back, releasing you. 

And when you turn to go, all you can do is cry, grieving these endings, new beginnings, and the parts of you that you must leave behind.

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

What if... the CEOs were hybrids? Part three | BTS OT7 AU

Its been a long while my lovelies and I apologise, hopefully making up for it with the third instalment of the what if series, starting us off with some 7.7K words about hybrid CEOs.

Trigger warnings: Possessive/obsessive behaviour, jealousy, scenting, usual hybrid trope things, swearing, testosterone, I don't know if being mean is a trigger warning but here it is. Angst.

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Playlist : Fire Escape - Matthew Mayfield, Delicate - Damien Rice

Hybrids: KNJ - Wolf, KSJ - Bear, MYG - Panther, JHS - Lion, PJM - Arctic fox, KTH - Tiger, JJK - Bunny.

You smelled like him, that was the first thing the trio noticed on their first day back to work when you passed them by. That's why the hyungs looked so sullen at home, why they were no longer coming home with your scent lingering on their clothes. And why Yoongi and Namjoon could barely stand to be in the same room for longer than a minute without tearing into each other about something stupid, all while avoiding the topic of you. 

The miasmic cloud of misery seemed to be hanging over all of their heads, following them without mercy from its downpour. You were avoiding their gazes, the maknaes watched you across the office longingly, waiting for you to greet them, to make the first move they were too afraid to make.

“This is stupid, we’ve known her longer than the human oaf,” Jimin mutters under his breath to the other two. “My angel isn’t one to hold a grudge, let’s just go and say hello.”

As brave as his words sounded, he could feel his heart in his throat, choking back any greeting he wanted to give you. 

“What if she’s still upset with us?” Jungkook’s bunny ears flopped, his own sadness weighing them down as he nervously struggled to keep his eyes on you. How did it get like this? He told you only a week ago you were part of their pack, now they were terrified to talk to you. 

“She doesn’t want to speak to us,” Taehyung states bluntly, while Jungkook could barely look at you, the tiger’s eyes never left you. He could read you like a book, you were ignoring them, and he hated it. All for that stupid human, the anger and jealousy burned inside of him. You never paid anyone else any interest all this time, to the point where he really believed you had feelings for them, and now another’s scent lingered on you, taunting him. How did he get it so wrong? 

He turns away first, walking out of the working space leaving Jungkook and Jimin to reluctantly follow, once last longing look your way, lingering there for as long as possible as they pleaded silently with you to meet them halfway. 

—

You take a deep breath as you approach his private office, bracing yourself for whatever the hell reason it was today he demanded you come to see him. All week there was a new reason, a new mundane task, more workload, more grumpy attitude from the CEO as he stared daggers into you like he was reverting back to who he was when he met you, when he didn’t trust you. But you could see through it, to an extent, the panther was punishing you and you were letting him . 

You exhale, it sounds almost like a sigh before you knock on the door, a gruff voice replying.

“Depyunim, you asked for me?” You greet him politely when you open the door.

“Take a seat,” he responds without looking up from the paperwork in front of him.

You hesitate, this was how it always started, you sitting there in silence fidgeting for however long he decided before he actually addresses you again. Only today the workload was catching up with you, you couldn’t afford to waste your time with his antics. 

Your reluctance to follow instruction makes him look up at you, not a single emotion on his face, his eyes almost black, void of the man you once knew. 

“Is there a problem Miss L/n?”

Ah. That was the other thing he started doing, he didn’t call you kitten anymore. It shouldn’t still cut you like this, and honestly you thought you had gotten used to it after a whole week, but every time it knocked the wind out of you like a punch to the gut. You were too terrified to call him by his name or question him over it, something told you his bite would be worse than his bark. Even now, where you would normally challenge his behaviour, you couldn’t muster the courage to. 

You shake your head, taking your seat like you had the previous days before. He returns to his paperwork without a word. The atmosphere between you was unbearable, every time you sat in this chair you wanted to bawl your eyes out, and every day you forced yourself to hold the tears back. 

“Depyunim…” you couldn’t take it anymore, you watch the pen in Yoongi’s hand pause at the sound of your voice. “I don’t want to rush you, but I have to get the Enhyphen contracts done by 4.”

You tried to say it calmly, softly, politely, but the stone in your throat made it difficult to speak. You fiddle with your fingers in your lap, bracing yourself nervously. He exhales loudly out of his nose, as if you were testing his patience, resuming his writing without a verbal response. 

In all honesty, you were misreading his behaviour. Yoongi was angry at himself. What was he trying to do? Push you away? Keep you close? Make you waste an entire day with him, so you’d be forced to stay late to catch up and then you wouldn’t go to see that human he could smell on you? What exactly was he trying to achieve? He was just so angry all the time since that day. That stench that didn’t belong on you was frying his brain cells, making him act like a possessive panther, enraging him even when he couldn’t smell it. He was desperately trying to keep you as close to him as possible whenever he could, keeping you in his office, his personal den, away from the thing that was taking you from him. 

He hears you sniff, it's small but audible, it stuns him frozen, scared that tears would follow, that he was the one to cause them. As hurt as he was, as miserable, the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry. The grip on his pen tightens. He owes you an explanation for his behaviour, his abuse of his power, he knows it, but how does he start? 

“Did I do something?” Your small voice makes him finally look up at you, almost snapping his neck in the process of how quick his attention turned. 

His hard expression melts into one of shock, jaw dropping an inch as he takes in the way you’re trying to smile despite the sadness coming off of you in waves. 

“No.” Is it a lie? It sounded firm, something that left no room for questions, but he can’t convince himself that it was true. 

In your mind you’ve already come to conclusions about the change in atmosphere, observing their attitude towards you and knowing it coincided with Eric coming into your life. You’re not stupid, you know they saw you as a packmate, so a new foreign scent was going to drive them over the edge. You just thought it would have settled by now, that they would’ve gotten used to it. 

But how could you act hurt when you were the one to instigate the change, to pull away for your own peace of mind. You put up walls and boundaries, knowing what the consequences would be. You couldn’t complain now, even if your whole body ached with missing them, despite working with them almost every day. Distance didn’t have to be physical, you could prove that. 

“Okay,” you accept it, plastering on a patient content smile on your face that didn’t feel right. Yoongi doesn’t like it, he knows it’s fake, but he turns back to his paperwork like a coward, unable to confront you or let you go. 

—

“What’s this?” Namjoon’s eyes are aflame as he shows you the email on his laptop, his eyes unbreaking from staring down your small figure in front of his desk. 

“I-it’s a request for a job reference,” you state the obvious, trying not to tremble in front of his heated glare. 

“I can see that babygirl,” he sounds almost condescending, the fire in his chest unable to remain contained in front of you. “Is there a problem here working in this company?”

You gulp a little, shaking your head since you couldn’t trust your voice to stay steady. 

“Then why would you even think about applying elsewhere?” He almost growls, almost. 

He sucks in his cheeks, trying to calm himself down, knowing what a hypocrite he was being. He told the others to keep their distance, to stop with this mating nonsense especially since you were obviously interested in someone else. All those times he told the others to respect your choices, and here he was eating his own words. Employees come and go, it’s a given in any business, but you, over his dead body was he ready or willing to let you leave. He didn’t even consider it an option. 

“What is it, Y/n?” he pushes, “Is it the pay? The workload? What would make you decide to leave when all you have to do to fix anything is speak to me.”

He was seething, but his anger wasn’t directed at you, it was the fear he was hiding in the flames speaking for him. 

“I was just exploring my options,” you can’t meet his eyes when you say it, your focus aimed at the edge of his desk. You knew logically you didn’t have to answer a thing, didn’t have to justify your actions, but you felt compelled to. This wasn’t just your boss, this was the man you had been in love with for years. You respected him far too much.

“Anything any company can offer you I can match or double,” he still sounds so angry, but he can’t help it. “You want a pay rise? Done. Promotion? Whatever position babygirl, it’s yours. Anything you want.” Just don’t leave. 

The corner of your lip rises an inch, a humourless sad smile on your face as you hold back a scoff. Your eyes start to water, you don’t want to say a word. He couldn’t give you what you wanted, you wanted him, you wanted the others, and if he ever knew he would throw you out of the company himself. You were doing him a favour by removing yourself, but you couldn’t tell him, because regardless of what you thought were noble actions, you knew you wouldn’t be able to take the look of hate or disgust in his eyes if it was directed at you. 

“You’re the biggest asset this company has ever had,” he explains, needing to cover his outburst before you read between the lines. It wasn’t a lie, but it sure wasn’t the reason why he was so desperate for you to stay. “I’m not letting you go without putting up a fight.” 

You wanted him to stop. It wasn’t fair how he made your heart sway and burn when he didn’t feel the same way. You hear him sigh, collecting his words, the hesitation makes you finally glance at him.

“Does this have anything to do with why you were crying last week?” He asks cautiously, his gaze inspecting your every reaction and movement.

“No,” you lie, “I told you, I was just overwhelmed with the workload.”

You sounded so flat, it made him ache. He fights the instinct to wrap you in his arms, smothering the voice in his head that was telling him something was wrong with his mate, reminding that incessant voice that you chose someone else. It was happening more and more frequently recently, he was arguing with himself all the time. The same conversation with himself repeating everyday whenever he saw you.

She chose someone else, he says to himself firmly, shutting down any chance of a counter argument. He doesn’t notice the grip on his pen is deadly until it cracks under the pressure, ink spilling all over his hands. 

“Joonie!” Maybe it was instinct that tore away all the boundaries you were building, but you race to his hand in worry as if he had injured himself. He felt the tug in his chest again the second you said his name, finding himself gazing at you softly. There’s a frown forming as you take his hand, looking it over in case he cut himself. He doesn’t pull away, even though he knows he should. You had him wrapped around your little finger, and although he didn’t mind, it was starting to hurt. 

“Are you okay?” You ask him, glancing up at his face to ensure he wasn’t in pain before returning to inspect his soiled hands. 

He knew he was pretending nothing had changed since you started dating, but his whole world turned upside down and he had to grit his teeth through it. He had to lead the others by example, but doing what was right rather than what he wanted was getting harder each time he saw you. Each time he could smell that disgusting odour on you it flared his jealousy, it had only been a week, how often were you seeing this boy in a week that his scent was always on you? 

“I don’t think you’re bleeding,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him, that frown of concern still cemented on your face as if you refused to trust the evidence he was unscathed. 

He hates it when you pull away, your own hand stained with ink from holding his. You glance down at them, lips turning up an inch as if you found it humorous for reasons unknown to him. You were laughing at yourself, all that progress you thought you were making away from them was bullshit, the state of your hands were proof enough of that. 

“I think I need to go wash my hands,” you chuckle, moving away from him. 

He fights back the instinct to grab your hand in a desperate attempt of keeping you with him, words lodged in his throat. He controls himself as you walk out of the office, feeling like a hopeless puppy rather than a wolf. 

—

“Did you hear, Y/n got herself a boyfriend!”

“No way, for sure thought she was courting the CEOs.”

“She obviously tried and failed.”

Jin sighs, closing his eyes trying to contain the disappointment he felt in his employees as they gossiped about you, not realising he was within earshot. He tries not to listen, tries not to focus on the details of your new relationship, but gossip spreads like wildfire in the company, the details getting warped as they were whispered. 

He scoffs. What did they know? They were all wrong about your affection for them, it was the other way round, they were courting you. It was plain and obvious for anyone to see but in the eyes of your jealous and spiteful colleagues, you were the instigator. Perhaps it was a blessing you unknowingly rejected them, he hated to think of what rumours would try to taint you if they were successful. He says it to himself so convincingly he can almost pretend it doesn’t taste bitter. Why was everyone so blind? Why were you so clueless? Why was everything so complicated?

He sighs to himself as he makes his way to the meeting room, half an hour early. Some habits die hard, some don’t die at all. Just as he expected you were already there setting up, he would’ve smiled if it wasn’t for the smell that hits him, the reminder. He could pretend nothing was changing, but the truth was hard to deny. 

“Need any help, beautiful girl?” he says, his sudden presence making you jump out of your skin. He grins at that at least.

“I’m almost done,” you laugh lightly, hand on your heart as it raced, refusing to calm down even when you knew there was no threat. You don’t know why but you were becoming increasingly nervous around Jin, a paranoid part of you thought he could see right through what you were doing, and you were afraid he would call you out. 

He hums in acknowledgement, approaching you slowly, his eyes boring into you as if you would disappear from sight if he so much as blinked. 

“You’re early,” you comment, trying to focus on anything other than his stare. 

“I wanted to spend time with my beautiful girl,” he confesses against his better judgement. He didn’t want things to change, so what if you were dating a moron, you were still his mate. 

Your pulse was beating faster the closer he got. Jin refused to let you pull away, it was why you thought he knew what you were doing. He didn’t let anything change. Boundaries? Fine, he’d respect them, but you trying to create a distance from him? It would kill him. 

“I-I, umm…” You can’t find an excuse to leave the room, and when he stands in front of you only inches away you lose your train of thought all together. His eyes implore down to your own, the softest smile admiring you without attempting to hide it at all.

“Hmmm?” he hums again, asking you to go on with a slight smirk, reading the effect he had on you, proof that you liked him too. 

You’re sure you look like a fish out of water to the amused bear in front of you playing with his food. 

“What’s wrong honey?”

You gulp, his eyes turning dangerous and knowing underneath the light expression he held. Maybe you liked that new term of endearment a little too much, Jin swore he could hear your heartbeat flatline for a second. He takes a step closer, basking in the warmth radiating from your heated form, just more evidence, more reassurance that he hadn’t gotten it wrong. You loved them too, the only issue was Namjoon’s inability to see it, and whatever the hell you were doing with that boy he could smell on you. 

The urge to get rid of it with his own scent was driving him up the wall. It would be so easy, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Crossing boundaries was how you all got into the predicament, he wasn’t about to make it worse. 

Your mouth opens and closes, repeatedly without words like the proverbial fish. Didn’t you ask the maknaes what hybrid you would be? Well you know the answer now. 

“Are you ill honey?” He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. He can’t help it, just something small, something that can be brushed off as concern. “You’re burning up.”

By the look on his face you can tell he knows exactly why that is. The smirk is gone, his face unusually serious with a challenge in his eyes to prove him wrong. 

“I-I’m fine,” you don’t sound it when you push his hand away from your face, but you force yourself to brush it off. “Honestly Jin, I’m fine.”

Before he can investigate any further, you turn away from him, feeling his stare on your back as you finish setting up for the meeting. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him that you repeat certain things, or take your time, obviously trying to avoid any more interactions with him. He laughs to himself in pity, maybe he did get it all wrong. 

—

It's silent in their office, it has been all week. No one seemed to muster the energy to talk, not even the maknaes now they were back. Namjoon half expected them to whine or complain openly about the situation, but they were too deflated to speak. A burning guilt seared right down his centre, realising his punishment was part of the reason they wouldn’t be open about their feelings, he was their alpha and he lost their trust. But they couldn’t see he was just trying to protect everyone, that was his burden. 

Hoseok walked in, doom and gloom written all over his face, a visible sigh through his lips, his eyes concentrated on the ground as he walked. A part of him wanted to hide in Yoongi’s office, not really wanting to be alone but not wanting company either, but he couldn't impose and the panther had been a bit volatile recently. He can’t remember the last time Yoongi willingly came into the main office since his argument with Namjoon. The two were avoiding each other thinking that was the best way to avoid conflict, in reality it was just making things ten times worse.

“I think I’m going to transfer to another floor,” he says nonchalantly as he stands at his desk, the others gawping at his words. 

“Hyung,” Jimin sounds equal parts outraged and upset. “You can’t.”

“Floor seven needs better management,” he says, not meeting anyone’s eyes. 

“And the real reason Hyung?” Taehyung scoffs.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, wanting to keep it repressed inside, but this was his pack, his family, they knew him better than anyone else. 

“I can’t take the smell,” he confesses quietly. “Everytime I look at her all I can see is someone else's hands on her, I-”

He cuts himself off, taking a breath. His emotions were spilling, overwhelmingly so inside of his chest, the only way out was through his mouth as words, but he locks it shut. 

“We won’t let a girl come between us or the company,” Namjoon states after minutes of silence, his voice quiet but firm. “We’ve worked together since the start, we’ve had problems before and we’ve gotten through them every time, this is no different.”

It was like he was brushing the situation off, that’s what made them stare at the leader of their pack aghast. A girl? A problem? Did he seriously just say that?

“But she’s not just a girl Namjoon,” Hoseok sounds so heartbroken that he even implied it, not holding back his words even though he knew it wasn’t a subject to approach the lead CEO with. “She’s our mate.”

Namjoon sighs, ready to have the conversation again for the hundredth time but Hobi doesn’t let him.

“You can deny it to yourself and the rest of us,” he says. “That doesn’t make it any less true.”

He doesn’t want to hear the lectures today, doesn’t want to sit through another spiel about how it would never work, so he left the office before the wolf could start. It was just his bad luck that he ran into you as he walked out, your form colliding into his chest. 

“Woah-” It’s instinct the way his arms wrap around you to hold you steady, and he blames instinct as to why he's so reluctant to let you leave. Your palms are on his chest, burning through the fabric of his shirt, finally giving him some of the warmth he had been craving for a while. 

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, pulling away, but he doesn’t release you. You look up at him in confusion. “Are you okay?”

No, I'm not okay sunshine. He’s missed you, the confession almost leaves his lips. But instead he smiles through the gut wrenching pain of letting you go, carrying on as if nothing had happened. 

—

Twice in one day? What had you done to deserve it? You march over to Yoongi’s office this time, the pile of work starting to stack itself into the leaning tower of pisa on your desk. You don’t even knock, opening the door to greet the panther. 

“Depyunim you calle-”

“You need to rewrite this,” he cuts you off without looking at you, holding the files you dropped off earlier before they slammed on his desk. 

“What’s wrong with it?” you challenge quietly, knowing that you checked it over ten times before giving it to him. 

“You need to change the font,” he states matter of factly. What the- was he kidding?

“This again?” you groan, rolling your eyes in without thinking, patience wearing thin. “There’s nothing wrong with the font!”

Yoongi stands up so quickly his chair almost falls back, he strides over to you, eyes pinning you down where you stood just outside his office. The doorway between you shouldn’t symbolise so much, but when he looks down at you with an anger simmering in his eyes, you can’t ignore that it does. 

“I’m a CEO of this company,” his voice is quiet, dangerously so. “If I tell you that it needs changing, there shouldn’t be any questions about it kitten.”

The pet name slips before he can stop it, but he can see your eyes soften at the term despite the way you were trying to challenge him. Your hands ball into fists by your side, trying to stop the ache that came with hearing him call you that again. Trying to pretend you didn’t miss the sound with your whole being. 

“I’m not changing the font Min Yoongi,” you keep your voice and gaze steady, ready to win this battle between you both. 

He almost smirks, it was instinct when his kitten got out her claws, he couldn’t help it. 

“I’m telling you to.”

“Fine, if you’re going to be stubborn about it let’s take it to Namjoon and he can tell us if you’re being unreasonable or not,” you argue back not realising that was the wrong button to press, but how were you to know of the ruins of their relationship. 

“This isn’t Namjoon’s project,” he can hear the growl in his words, taking a heavy step towards you. 

The way his eyes turned black in a second made a shiver go down your spine, goosebumps jumping out of your skin, warning you that you pushed the panther too far. The next step he takes has you gulp, survival instinct taking over as you take a step back, keeping the distance between you the same, moving into the corridor. 

“It's mine,” he looks so disgusted at you, hate pouring out in his words and his glare, aimed far away from you but unfortunately you were on the receiving end. Kim Namjoon was not a name to be uttered in his presence. “So if I tell you, to change the font Miss L/n, you change it.”

His words are final, you can see it. It doesn’t falter, his stare so intense you have trouble finding your own words. 

“Okay,” you give in, ready to drop the subject and run away from his demeanour, but he wasn’t having it. 

“How dare you try to question my rank in this deal Y/n,” the way he says your first name makes you realise it's not just anger there, you hurt him. “But I guess you don’t respect me a much as you respect him.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he walks back into his office, slamming the door behind him, leaving you alone on the other side. You hadn’t realised you were holding your breath until your lungs filled with air again shakily. No, you were not going to leave it like this. 

For the second time that day you don’t knock, walking in to find his back to you as he stood in the middle of the office, Shoulders rising and falling with each angry breath he took. You close the door behind you, staring at him until he turns around. 

“Get out of my office,” he’s not joking, the tone of voice he was using with you, you had never heard aimed at you before. You force your bottom lip to not quiver.

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. He lets out a breath of laughter, humorlessly, looking up at the ceiling in exasperation. 

“Fine. Now leave.”

In his current state, the stink on you was only fuelling the fire. It filled his office, his safe space and he wanted it out even if it meant kicking you out. 

“Yoongi,” he curses the way you look up at him with watering eyes. “Why are you so mad at me?”

“That smell is off putting,” it’s spit out before he can reign it in. Part of you expected that to be the answer but you still look surprised.

“But this is irrational…” you shake your head, you want to create boundaries not be exiled. “I know Eric isn’t part of your pack but neither are most of the people you work with every day and you’ve never behaved like this before. Not with me.”

His jaw clenches at the name, the way you said it sounded too familiar for a guy you only met a week ago. Humans were more like animals than they thought, if you met your mate time was irrelevant, he really thought that was you for them, he didn’t want to believe anything else. 

“I can’t stand their stench either kitten,” he bites back, sounding spiteful, tail flickering behind him dangerously. “Why do you think I have a private office that no one’s allowed into?”

You reel back, hating the way he was speaking to you. You both bickered and argued all the time, but this felt different, this felt real. 

“And right now, you’re filling it with that disgusting smell,” you could almost see smoke coming out of his head, like a volcano about to erupt. “So please, Y/n, leave.”

You stare at him silently for a second, unable to hide the hurt on your face anymore. He doesn’t budge, he can’t, and you can see it your efforts to get through to him would be fruitless. When you close the door behind you, walking out without another word, he can feel the guilt drop like a pill inside of him, regretting letting his jealousy speak for him.

—

You can hear the tap running in the kitchen when you walk into your apartment after work. Sighing with emotional exhaustion as you take off your shoes, you really wanted to be alone.

“Hey!” His voice shouldn’t aggravate you, but it pulls at a chord. “How was work?”

You try to smile, but it feels awful. 

“Busy as always,” you don’t elaborate, and Eric is smart enough to know not to push. 

“Well I made you one last dinner… without burning the kitchen down this time,” he chuckles sheepishly. 

“You really didn’t have to,” you didn’t have the stomach for food today. 

“I just wanted to thank you Y/n,” he says sincerely. “For letting me stay with you this week, I honestly can’t thank you enough.”

If you told any of your friends you let the guy that took you on one date stay with you when he accidentally burned down his apartment, you’re pretty sure they’d kill you before giving you the lecture of ‘you don’t know him’, ‘he could be a serial killer’. But you knew Eric through a mutual friend, and if they vouched for him, you’d believe it. Plus you couldn’t lie that his presence was useful in your badly executed plan of getting over your bosses or at least not letting them find out you were in love with them. 

“Sure you’re not going to let me take you out on another date to make up for it?” he tries cheekily, reminding you of his presence when you space out thinking about them. 

“I thought dinner was your way of making up for it,” you say with a look on your face that roughly translated to, nice try.

“No, that's my way of saying thank you,” he chuckles but again doesn’t push it.

As much as you wanted to be distracted from your current dilemma, you wouldn’t use anyone that way. It wasn’t fair, you were hung up on them, and you didn’t believe that stupid saying of getting under someone else. Honestly, you didn’t know what you were doing, you wanted something impossible. Did you honestly believe that a little distance was going to erase the past few years of getting to know them, of falling in love with them? How did you think you could have it both ways? Love them from afar, but still keep them close. You really were a mess. 

—

His scent was stronger on you this morning. It was all they could think about through the meeting all seven of them had to attend, but they didn’t know that was because you hugged Eric goodbye this morning when he finally left with his stuff. More from the relief of getting your space back than anything else. The time-old saying was wrong, what they didn’t know would definitely kill them. 

Did he spend the night? Was that why the once lingering smell on you was now punching them in the face with its pungence? Jin glances briefly at the way Yoongi was tapping his pen irritatedly on the surface of the desk. Hobi looking distraught beside him, blinking back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

The maknaes were fairing no better. Jimin's stare was as cold as ice, threatening to freeze anyone cold that dared to approach him… perhaps it was quite fitting for an arctic fox. Jin could hear the way Jungkook’s leg was restless under the desk, the strength of the smell too much for the bunny as his face contorted into pain. And Taehyung… well the tiger looked at you with such an intensity, the oldest CEO didn’t know how you were ignoring it, surely you felt the burn of his gaze.

Jin wondered how Namjoon was leading the meeting with such faux ease. If Jin didn’t know him any better, he would have believed it, but he noticed the subtle clench of his jaw, the way he couldn’t help glancing at you at any given moment, the heartbreak and questions in his gaze every time it fell on you. 

“We’ve only just managed to reach our target for this year’s quarterly,” Namjoon states, trying not to wince at the way the smell was giving him a headache. “I want project leaders to reassess their team's work for any pitfalls or areas for improvement.” 

You frown in concern when he pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes with his fingers, closing them in pain before resuming the meeting. You want to question it, stay late when he finishes his speech, thanking everyone for their hard work and letting your colleagues leave the room. You want to stay, you want to check he's okay, but you remind yourself of what you’re trying to achieve and force yourself out without looking back at any of them. That didn’t mean you didn’t feel each of their stares as you left. 

—

You can see Jungkook and Jimin wandering around the office floor, trying to look busy, striking up conversations with almost every employee, asking them mundane questions about different projects, all while sneaking not so subtle glances your way. You’d laugh under any other circumstance. You hadn’t said a word to them since that night, and now because of the lack of communication the atmosphere festered into something awkward. Each party was afraid to approach the other, you were scared to talk to them, they had a way of bringing down your defences, and you knew it would take them seconds to break down the wall of boundaries you were building. 

The pair notice you ignoring their presence, making their way through the sea of employees, inching closer and closer to you as naturally as they can fake. 

“Hyung I don’t think this is going to work,” Jungkook mutters under his breath for only the arctic fox to hear.

“Why won’t it work?” Jimin challenges in a hushed breath. “We’re the CEO’s of the company checking on our employees, Angel is also an employee, this is the perfect way to start a conversation again.”

“But hyung-”

“I miss her,” Jimin looks earnestly at the bunny, his heart in his eyes for him to see. “I can’t take this anymore.”

Jungkook bites his lips nervously as Jimin talks to Seulgi, the next desk they would approach would be yours. You seemed engrossed in your work but he kept his eye on you, scared you would figure out what they were doing and run away before they had the chance to talk to you. 

You, however, were so wrapped up in your own thoughts you didn’t question their motives. That is until they make their way to your desk.

“Angel,” Jimin greets you as if nothing happened. 

Your eyes widen as you stare at him in shock, realising this was their plan the whole time. 

“Jimin,” you breathe back, and he has to stop himself pouncing on you. Fuck, he missed you? Why was that word not enough to explain the pain of being away from you for so long?

“Hi Noona,” Jungkook saves his hyung by sacrificing himself, the older CEO malfunctioning after hearing his name. “W-we w-wanted to see how everyone was doing.”

He chews at his lips, cursing himself for stuttering, but thankfully Jimin finds his tongue.

“The hyungs sent us,” he lies hastily, “to check on everyone, I mean…”

You just nod in reply, feeling a little on the spot with both their gazes burning into you like you would fade from sight. You kind of wish you could fade from sight.

“How are you?” Jimin asks softly, the words sounding light but holding more weight than anyone would ever know. 

“I-I’m okay,” you smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just falling behind.”

Your hands grip onto the arm rests of your chair, as if you were physically trying to hold yourself back from leaping into their arms. You missed them, you missed them so much you didn’t care about that stupid night and the stupid boundaries. You just wanted to go back to normal, but you couldn’t, you had feeling for them, it was wrong. 

“Anything we can help with?” Jungkook asks, hoping you’d let them. All he wanted to do was bury his nose in your hair, after scenting you so hard that you only smelled of him and the pack. His fingers fidget, entangling around each other, can’t he at least touch your hair? Or your cheek, or something. 

“I kind of need to not be distracted,” you say sheepishly, wincing at your own harsh words though you tried to say them as politely as you could. Both boys balk at the suggestion before Jimin composes himself.

“Understood.” His features turn to stone as he drags the bunny away, leaving you to your work. Your heart breaks more and more with each step they take, knowing you can’t take it back. You hurt them. 

—

You thought their office was empty, it's why you didn’t knock. Knowing their schedules, knowing they were all at different meetings, you didn’t think twice to enter with the files you had to drop off, coming to an abrupt halt when you’re met with his red rimmed eyes. You both stare at each other, your face one of complete shock, while his was evident of his tears. 

It's the sob that wrecks through his whole body that has you spring into action, flinging the files onto whoevers desk you didn't care, as you almost ran over to him, engulfing him in your arms nearly knocking you both over. If anything he cries harder, tail wrapping around your waist too as he holds onto you like a lifeline. You squeeze him hard, his head burying itself into your neck, trying to find the scent of you that wasn’t tainted with that awful stench. 

You don’t smell like you. You don’t smell like them. He won’t pretend it's pure instinct as he rubs his head against you, sniffling as he moves your head under his chin, rubbing his scent glands on you roughly. It’s all over you, that fucking smell was everywhere. 

“Tae,” you call his name airily, his ministrations already having an effect on you, but you had been so starved of him for so long. 

He doesn’t respond, taking your arm in his hand, pressing it against his cheek, hiding his eyes from you when he decides it isn’t enough. You feel yourself stop breathing when he uses his lips instead, soft delicate kisses on the length of your arm, making his way slowly to your neck. You’re frozen, not wanting him to stop for a second, your skin searing at every touch he gives. 

That is until you try to make sense of his behaviour. He was a hybrid, who saw you as part of his pack, and you denied them your presence for over a week. This was just his instincts on overdrive and you had to get yourself together before he went too far and regretted it. Or before you misread the signals and got your heart broken again. 

“Tae, stop,” it sounds feeble even to your own ears, but you grab his wrists and push him back. His eyes meet yours, no tears left but his pupils are fully blown like he was on catnip. 

“No,” his voice is hoarse but stubborn. “I don’t want to.”

It takes all your strength to hold him back when he tries to lean into you again, his heart aching at the way you're keeping him away when he so desperately needs you. 

“Please,” he begs, whimpering, feeling like if you denied him it would crush him beyond repair. “Please flower.”

You breathe out slowly, long and calm, trying to keep yourself together, to not give in. It wasn’t fair, every brick you painstakingly spent building against them came down like a house of cards. Tears prickle the corner of your own eyes. This wasn’t fair. 

He manages to rest his head on your shoulder, his nose sniffing against your neck. It’s still there, muted but he could still smell it. You hear the low hum of a growl in his throat.

“Taehyung, talk to me,” you say gently, needing him to verbalise his actions so you didn’t misread them. 

“You’re not supposed to smell like him!” he cries, closing his eyes in pain. “You’re supposed to smell like us, you’re mine.”

Your heart leaps before it falls. 

“Tae,” your bottom lip trembles, doesn’t he realise how cruel this was. “You can’t say shit like that.”

He hears you sniff, moving away enough to see the look of sadness on your face. But he doesn’t understand why it’s there. Did you really not feel the same way? No, that wasn’t it, the way you looked up at him, begging him to stop but they were soft on him, so loving. 

“Why?” he dares to ask, it comes out a whisper, his heart pounding as he inspects you. You close your eyes, wanting to laugh at how pathetic you are. It causes tears to fall out of the corner of your eyes. You let go of his wrists to wipe them away, ready to answer him, ready to confess and leave him forever to save yourself from more pain. 

A creak startles you both, the door opening to reveal the others making their way back from their respective meetings, all of them staring at the scene, completely taken back. 

“Baby girl?” Namjoon is the first to step towards you both, his eyes flickering between you both. The concern on his face turns to one of anger, aimed at the tiger but you had already decided it was towards you. 

You can’t deal with this. Turning away you try to make your leave, only to be held back, Taheyung grabbing your hand in his and making you face him. 

“Why?’ he repeats, more adamantly. He needed to know, because whether he was right or wrong would change everything. 

“Taehyung,” Namjoon growls warningly. His eyes fixed on your hands together. 

“This is between me and flower,” he glares at his hyung, the threat in his eyes clear for the wolf not to get involved. He turns back to you, the others watching intently. “Why?”

You feel defeat ripple through your chest, your face scrunching as you sniff back the sob working its way out. 

“Because my stupid human brain is going to misunderstand,” you voice is heavy with tears, a few slipping out against your wishes. “Your actions mean something different for humans than they do for hybrids.”

He almost scoffs, this was what you always did. They were so obvious with their affection and love and you rationalised it wrong every time.

“What does it mean for humans, flower?” he almost sounds like he’s mocking you, a new stern and unforgiving look on his face as he moves closer to you. 

“Taehyung stop,” you beg, not wanting to go through with this, to feel embarrassed about your feelings when he figured it out. “Please.”

“Taehyung maybe we shou-”

The glare he sends Hoseok’s way has the lion biting his tongue. They were all panicked, what if the tiger’s actions cost you them forever?

“What do kisses mean for humans?” he asks again, louder, more demanding, not letting the subject drop. “Or better yet… What do you think they mean for hybrids?”

“You kissed her?” Both of you ignore Namjoon’s outburst, Taehyung not caring if he misunderstood. 

The corners of your lips pull down so far, your eyes welling ready for overspill as you implore him silently to let you go. Why was he being so cruel? You had never known him to be like this before, what did he want from you? You breathe shakily, feeling lost until it hits you, he’s figured it out. He knows. 

Your worst fears come to surface and you pray it wasn’t true, that he wasn’t about to out your feelings to the others. He watches you struggle for words, deciding to take pity on you.

“Because last time I checked,” he breathes, his heart pounding in his chest hard as he takes a leap of faith. “They mean the same thing for us as they mean for you.”

It takes you a second, he can see the crease between your brows before your whole face goes slack with disbelief. He can see the puzzle pieces finally fit into place through your eyes, unable to help himself, smiling when he can feel your pulse match his. 

He takes another step closer, the distance between you only a hair width. Final drops of tears fall out of your eyes as he watches your pupils dilate when he leans in. You don’t pull away when his lips press against yours, you pull him closer.

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

Taglist: @nlost21 @pb-n-juju @needyomnivore @lvpersona @marvelfamily3000 @love2lovesworld @halesandy @dreamamubarak @deepseavibez @mikymouse0729 @barnesrogerslover @itismochirice @mwitsmejk @minswife4life @agustverse @whtamidoingagain @missmoxxiesworld @itsjustwinter @midiplier @toriluvsfics @juju-227592 @galacticmei @mardduska @paymeinkash @blxssxmsposts @sweetestofchaos @aykxz98 @hannahdinse8 @canarystwin @blushyrawrz @roguesthetic @bex-tk1 @abrokenlink @thedarkwinterrose @ronynz @dont-believe-in-cheesus @matchat3a @ryomen-yn @1-800-punch-a-pimp @muffinminnie @demidevilangel @sugajinny @spiralingnino @yoongissmalltoe 

[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 🥳 🐴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?

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“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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[glaciertea]

Tales the Songs Weave

(Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader) Complete

Chapter masterlist

18+ (can view the tags here on ao3)

The romance, the sweetness, the angst don't worry, we got it~

Erotica sprinkled here and there. Teehee.

146,091 words

Notes: Hello there, I should've done this first, but as long as it's here. This is a fic I am currently working on, and I've been posting it on ao3, but also decided to come to a site that I haven't used in over 7+ years, so please bear with me, haha.

This fic is based off songs I believe will fit this man (out of the many), so if you are interested in checking out and following along the "official Spotify playlist" <-there you go!

This is a completed story, and I do hope you enjoy the read~

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is a leader. A leader who doesn't let anyone or anything distract him from the tasks at hand.

He's focused, unwavering, and ruthless.

But what happens when he abruptly pulls away from his territory and wanders into an unknown playing field he hasn't faced in forever?

Many say love holds no bounds, but how much will he be willing to break for you?

The List

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Bonus 1

Bonus 2

[chickenfics]

the way I love the ocean

Relationship: Robin Buckley x Female!Reader

Summary: It was the summer of ‘87. Nothing in your life had prepared you for Robin, but somehow everything had begun falling into place. It all started with a movie and a pair of ocean-blue eyes, and suddenly you were dancing to a Jukebox in a long-closed diner, or racing down the length of a pier, swimming in the moon-dipped lake and walking her home down yellow-lit streets, talking about the way The Smiths sound like indigo and the best time of the summer is when the fireflies start to come out.

It was the summer of ‘87, and you were falling in love.

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: ........ Hello, I am still alive. Good god, sorry for the wait -- I kept wanting to work on the final chapter and only recently got around to it but it's here! I adored writing this fic, even if it took me almost a year to finish it off. Thank you all for bearing with me, and I hope this final chapter is at least a little worth the wait. Love you all <3

Fic Playlist!  Also on Ao3

Previous Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 8: Tango in the Night (Remaster)

"Remind me again?" 

"Robin," you said, trying not to sigh. "Buckley. She invited me to the movies that one time..." 

"Right, okay," your mom nodded. You sat your fork down. 

You hadn't been eating dinner much with your parents. Between working at the diner and spending the night at Steve's, they'd started to notice -- and they'd started to suspect something was going on. Which, it sort of was. Just not what they thought. 

"And that Harrington boy--" 

"Is just a friend.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow at you. 

"And anyways, he's not even going to be there." 

“My parents are going to some festival this weekend,” Robin had said. “It's like this end-of-summer thing to celebrate the solstice, I don't know. Anyway, would you want to maybe come over?”

It had all come out in a rush. She’d been nervous. It was cute. She'd said to tell her with enough time for her to make her room presentable and “Not like a herd of raccoons lives here -- actually, what are a bunch of raccoons called?”

A gaze. That's what a bunch of raccoons are called.

You'd said yes. 

"Good," your dad was saying. "Becauase you know how I feel about you spending the night with a boy." 

"I know," you said, voice empty, just enough to get by. 

There was so much your parents didn't know and even more they didn't understand. But that was okay. You had a coffee tin stashed under your bed. One night after staying late at the diner at the end of your shift, you, Robin, Steve, and Eddie had gotten it in your heads that, soon, Hawkins would see the last of you -- and the conversation by Steve’s pool had become less of a late-night musing and more of a reality that you could touch with your hands. The night ended with Eddie digging through the recycling bin and pulling out four coffee tins with a dismissive, “I’ll just, rinse them off in the sink or whatever” before handing one to each of you.  

"Gross," Robin and Steve had said at the same time. 

Four tins. Four incomes. A chance to get away. To find your own place. To make it if you had to. 

"But not too far," Steve had said like he didn't really care even though he clearly did. And you had all agreed. Not too far. Close enough to still see the kids. Close enough for Eddie to see Wayne. Close enough… 

So, what your parents didn't know wouldn't kill them. 

“We’re just having a… girls' night,” you said, and it felt wrong, but it seemed right. 

“That’s good,” your mom said. “I’m glad you’re making friends.”

Your dad was silent, turning back to his dinner, and the topic passed. It stayed that way until you finished eating, stayed that way as you helped with the dishes, even stayed that way when you retreated to your room to grab your overnight bag. With all the spontaneity over the summer, you weren’t used to having a bag with you. Something about it felt final, like the way the nights were starting to get cooler and the kids were planning their last adventures before heading back to school. And, perhaps, the tin under your bed made everything feel changed. You couldn’t stop yourself from kneeling down to search it out behind folded sheets and old shoeboxes. Ten dollars and twenty-nine cents in odd change. It was a start. And the bag slung over your shoulder was just the beginning. 

“Will you be home tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure. I can call you.”

There was a dissatisfied silence. “Okay. Be safe, make wise decisions.”

“I will.”

Those two words cut the string binding you there. It furled away from you, carried by its own momentum. You waved goodbye to your parents and pulled the door shut behind you. Outside, the sky was blue and the air hummed softly with cicada song. The summer might have been coming to an end, but the pavement still swam with the heat and beads of sweat still collected across your forehead as you pedaled down the road, feet pumping, heart beating, every inch of it drawing you closer to where you wanted to be. To Robin. Maybe even something beyond that. 

The world was starting to feel more like your own. 

But, for now, the world was still only as big as Hawkins, Indiana, where all the streets you passed looked the same and you knew familiar faces were nearby. Familiar faces that you loved. That loved you. And you knew you’d carry that with you. You’d carry them with you wherever you went. It felt good, to know that. To feel it in your bones, in your soul, in everything that had ever made you who you are. Robin’s street was the only one you were looking for; white letters printed on a small blue sign. When you saw it you smiled, and then you turned your bike, and you thought about the time she’d helped you pull it out of Steve’s trunk and how that seemed like such a lifetime ago. 

You left it along the side of the house, leaning it on a rock next to wildly growing vines and blooms of flowers, their petals starting to fall as summer was on its way out. They decorated the ground of the flower bed like a bright, living blanket. You never would have guessed that they’d fallen because they were already dead. Your bike, its pedals still whirring, became one with the image of Robin’s house. It fit in like it had always been there, along with the half-rotted shed in the backyard and the sun-bleached wood of the porch. There were repairs made, only evident by interruptions of brighter, smoother pieces of lumber. They hadn’t been weathered by time like the boards around them.

You left your bike, its pedals now slowing to a stop, along the side of the house, and you thought you’d be okay if was consumed by the vines, too. If it was covered up by a shower of petals. You thought it would be fine if it blended into the background completely, just another distant color on a polaroid or a picture in a magazine -- just another feature of a quiet house in a sleepy neighborhood where, from the outside, nothing particularly interesting was happening. On the inside, though… 

Robin opened the door without a word -- found your pinky and linked it with hers without a word. And you hugged her. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around her neck as hers settled onto your waist, and you felt the warmth of her all at once, became overwhelmed with the smell of her chapstick and her hair and her skin. It was familiar in a way you’d never known possible at the start of the summer, mere months ago. It made your chest open up like a flower and bloom right there under the warmth of the sun she held within her. All you could do was take deep breaths of each other. 

She tucked her face into your neck and you hummed lightly, sighed heavily, loved overwhelmingly. And outside, a leaf from the big oak tree in Robin’s yard -- the first leaf of the year to fall, perhaps a month too early -- drifted through the air and landed in the basket on your bike. And from the street, if anyone had been there at all, they could have seen Robin pull you through the door and spin you around to kiss you. If anyone had been there. If anyone had been looking. 

_______________________________________________________

She gave you a tour of her home. Where she’d played with pots and pans when she was five. Where she’d kept her pet goldfish until it died when she was twelve and it was three. “I won it at the fair. I didn’t even know those things could live that long.” She showed you the porch where she’d lost her lucky bracelet when she was fifteen -- dropped it straight down one of the cracks between the boards. She wondered if it was still there. Wondered what had happened to it if it wasn’t. 

“It was probably the raccoons,” you said, smirking at the amusement in the crinkles around her eyes. 

“You should be a comedian. Then maybe we could all afford an apartment for real.”

She sat on her kitchen counter and stirred the brownie mix she’d started before you’d arrived because “I got nervous and didn’t know what to do with my hands.”

“Don’t you think we’ll make it?” you asked her, leaning by the sink. “I mean, with all four of us… I don’t know, I think we can do it.”

She set the bowl down next to her, kicking her feet softly as she pulled the spoon out and tilted it in her hands. 

“I want to believe we can,” she said. “I mean, if anyone could make it happen, it’s us.”

And it was enough of an answer, even though it wasn’t really an answer at all. It was enough because you knew you’d never really have an answer. Life gave few certainties, and staying with the people you love wasn’t one of them. But in the same way, you couldn’t envision a life where you didn’t wake up next to Robin, or find Steve cooking breakfast in your kitchen, or see Eddie off to work every morning. You couldn’t imagine a version of Hawkins where they weren’t in your life. Funny, seeing as you hadn’t even known them before this summer. Lucky, how things work out. 

But then, maybe they were one of your life’s certainties. Maybe it was always meant to be. 

“And hey, if it doesn’t work out, we can always just go to the same retirement home,” she dryly joked, licking batter off of the spoon. 

“You should be a comedian,” you grinned wryly. 

“We can be a double act. Make double the money that way.”

The sun was setting as Robin pulled the brownies out of the oven. She had to leave her place between your legs to do so, and you sat at the kitchen table missing the warmth of her skin against yours. 

“Well, at least I didn’t burn the house down,” she said, setting the pan on the stovetop. 

“Shame Steve isn’t here to see it.”

Robin crept back over, frizzy strands of hair framing her face. You were pretty sure she’d washed it recently -- it always got frizzier when it was clean, and its strawberry smell was especially strong when she pressed her cheek against your ear. 

Wrapping your arms around her back, you pulled her onto your lap. Sitting on your legs, she relaxed against you and traced lines across the base of your neck. 

“Can you imagine,” she started, that quiet, contemplative tone to her voice. You loved her like this as much as you loved her joking and her energy. “Every day being like this? This… quiet. Just us.”

You hummed softly and rested your chin on her shoulder, hugging her tighter; feeling the weight of her. 

“One day it will be,” you replied.

Robin inhaled a breath through her nose, shifting so her face was pressed into your neck. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you said. “I feel it in my bones.”

“In your bones…” Her smile pressed against your skin and you could hear the raise of her eyebrows in her voice. “Well, if your bones say so, then it must be true.”

“It is. You wait and see.”

Leaning back, Robin hooked her arms around your neck, hands draping lazily, fingertips brushing your back. 

“Oh, I’m waiting,” she said, voice low, the faintest smile sparking her eyes. Sureness in every line on her face, every freckle. You felt her hands slide up your spine. 

“I’m waiting,” she whispered, eyelids fluttering closed as she leaned forward, letting your lips meet slowly -- so slowly that you felt your heart beat faster and your muscles tighten with something that fluttered through your whole body. 

“Good,” you whispered back, the words pinned between your lips and hers. 

You watched her smile. You tasted it. 

It tasted sweet. 

By the time you ate the brownies, they were cold. The night was cold, too -- a new change from all the other nights before. The crickets were still singing, though, and the sky was still indigo. And Robin -- she was still here, only this time her thighs were warming your shoulders from where you sat, on the ground now, between her legs. Her chest was holding you up. You leaned back, head bumping her collarbone, and looked up at the sky. 

“I think I got brownie crumbs all over you,” she said, brushing your shoulders off. You smiled and knocked your socked foot against her ankle. 

“Hey, Robin?” you suddenly said, and there must have been something in your voice to change the way the air was settling around the two of you because Robin sat up a little. 

“Yeah?”

There was a gathering of energy and matter sweeping into the center of your chest, like the quiet friction before the creation of a universe. Before the bang. Before everything that’s been building begins. 

“Robin, I love you.”

She sat up further. Feeling something twist in your stomach, you moved off of her enough that you could turn around. 

“You,” she started, her eyes wide, already searching yours. “You… do?”

“Yes,” you breathed, chuckling nervously. “I-I mean, yes? I can’t help it, when I’m with you -- even when I’m away from you, I… You don’t have to say it back, I just c--” Robin grabbed your face with her cold hands and kissed you. 

“Oh,” you sighed in the moment she pulled back to breathe, and then she was leaning forward and kissing you even harder. Your hands slid up to rest on her jaw, thumbs brushing over the soft skin there and she rocked you backward. You would have lost your balance if she hadn’t snaked her arm around your waist, but she did, and she used it to pull you back into her. Your chest brushed hers, and you felt something twist in your stomach again. This time, it wasn’t nerves. 

Robin ducked back and tilted her face down to brush her nose against yours. Your face was warm where her hands were cupping it. You felt her thumb explore the edge of your lower lip. 

"You're--" she caught her breath in a laugh. "You're my favorite person in the whole world."

You smiled, caught your breath in a laugh of your own. Robin didn't let go. 

"I never want to not have you," she whispered, eyes dropping to your lips. 

"You have me," you whispered. "Always." 

Robin pulled you into her and the last of the summer crickets chirped as you kissed under the indigo sky which had begun to grow cold. The same sky that had watched a similar scene unfold under the same moon reflecting off a lake, mosquitoes swimming in the hot air. You hadn’t cared about them back then, and now, you didn’t care about the cold. It was different -- it was a sign of change, of life -- and it was good. 

So, as the crickets sang the outro to their summer symphony, you and Robin finished where you began; kissing under the moonlight in a world that was all yours. 

________________________________________________________

The sun was shining through the windows. When you opened your eyes, it was like a picture staring back at you -- the kind someone would hang on their wall because it was warm and perfect and it lit up the place. A curtain, eggshell blue and half-translucent, captured the yellow rays and held them, glowing, between stitches of fabric. You’d never been in Robin’s room before. It had always been Steve’s house. 

Her room smelled like… her. The laundry detergent she used, the berry shampoo that lingered around her like a halo the day after she’d washed her hair, the vanilla lotion she liked. All of it was contained inside the four walls like a time capsule. And you thought, maybe the world would go on without you if the two of you could just stay here. If that was all the rest of your life was -- a sunny morning in late summer laying in Robin’s bed -- you would be content. You would be happy. You could have spent forever in this picture and you wouldn’t have missed out on a single thing as long as Robin was lying beside you. Inhaling a sleepy sigh through your nose, you stiffly rolled over. The sheets were tangled up between the two of you. By the door, a chair was left overturned from where you and Robin had knocked it over, too tangled up in each other to notice where you were going. 

Your clothes had found homes across the floor. Your shirt was caught on the leg of the chair, your pants were near the window next to Robin’s bra. You smiled faintly, eyes tracing over the edges of her room. It was messy in a lived-in way -- you could see the impressions she’d made on the space, how she’d made it her own. Posters hung on the wall. A small, well-loved desk sat in the far corner, off to your left. In the light of the morning, you could see stickers, now faded remnants of childhood, that you hadn’t noticed last night, when you’d been occupied with other things. 

Like the girl next to you, who still lay sleeping. The beautiful, mind-blowing, wonderful girl. You could still taste her lips on your tongue, could still feel her hands on your skin, the way her hair had felt tangled between your fingers. Everything was golden and ethereal and… perfect. It felt fitting, as if your lives had always been heading toward one another. And, you decided as you propped your head up on your hand and brushed a strand of hair out of Robin’s face, the waiting had been worth it. Every moment you’d been made to feel alone was worth a single moment with Robin. To think things were only beginning. 

How exciting. 

Now that you’d touched her again, you couldn’t keep your hands off of her. You smoothed your thumb over her cheek, your touch light enough not to wake her. You traced the tip of your finger along her temple, connecting freckles with invisible lines before dipping back behind her ear, feeling the warmth of her skin and the softness of her hair. When her eyelids began to flutter open, you were smiling. When her eyes found your face, she was smiling too. Closing them briefly, like she was stealing a moment in time, she sighed deeply. Contently. And then she dug a hand out from under the nest of blankets and caught yours, guiding your wrist to her lips. 

“Hey there,” she murmured, and you felt her breath on your skin a moment before she pressed her lips against your wrist, right over your lifeline. 

“Hi,” you sighed. 

She inhaled deeply, her nose pressed into the palm of your hand. She inhaled like you were made of oxygen and starlight and everything she needed to survive. Laying back onto your side, you scooted forward until you could rest your forehead against hers. 

“This is, like, everything I’ve ever wanted,” she whispered. You could hear the smile in her voice. 

“Yeah,” you smiled back. 

Your bodies were maps. You’d never known just how much time you could spend exploring the beauty of someone else before you’d met Robin. Before she’d brought you to her bed and let you touch her softly. Before she’d touched you. You’d never known how quickly a morning could pass when you were learning the language of another person’s freckles, when you were becoming fluent in every beauty mark and blemish -- how it could be so perfect that it felt like an eternity all the same. But with Robin, you discovered it all. And the morning passed quickly, and it was eternal all the same. 

Eventually, she had to get up. 

“Not to shatter this perfect moment, or anything, but I really have to pee.”

“Every moment with you is perfect,” you grinned, eyes roaming her skin unashamedly as she tossed the sheets off. You watched the skin on her back, scattered with freckles, while she reached down to search the floor for a shirt. 

“Uh, cheese alert. Did you read that one in a greeting card?”

“Ouch,” you played up a wince. “Guess that means I should stick to comedy, huh?”

Turning around, Robin gave you a sly grin before leaning down. Very, very slowly, she kissed you. Your hand found the soft skin over her ribs. 

“Whatever makes you happy, Earth girl,” she murmured against your lips. Your head spun. And then, like nothing at all had happened, she hopped up and pulled a shirt on. Your shirt. 

You watched her as she hopped off to the bathroom, stopping by the door to lazily spin around and give you one last look that made it clear she knew what she was doing to you. You hurled a pillow in her direction hoping that it would distract her from how flustered you were. The moment she disappeared into the hall, you yanked the blanket over your face. It smelled so much like her that it didn’t help your case, but in the few minutes that Robin was gone, you managed to cool your face down. 

You heard her return before you saw her. There was a click and a whirr, and the sound of music had you throwing the blanket off and blinking around. 

“Oh my god, is that Aretha Franklin?” you asked as Robin gave a little spin before dropping onto the bed. She tossed her legs over yours. 

“Yeah. It was my mom’s tape when she was little. She gave it to me when we were going through the attic a couple years ago. You, uh… you don’t mind, do you?” She glanced up at you, hair framing her face like a halo. 

“Absolutely not,” you replied, shifting so your hip bumped against her. She sighed, closing her eyes with a smile. 

The cassette sounded old -- parts of it warped by years of being played, parts of it sounding like they were coming through a portal from another time to slide comfortably into the room. 

“Baby, baby, baby

This is just to say 

How much I’m gonna miss you 

But believe while I’m away

That I didn’t mean to hurt you 

Don’t you know that I’d rather hurt myself”

Your hand found Robin’s hair. The sun had taken up a patch of wall; lit it yellow and bright. The ceiling felt wide. You could feel the room heating up; it was going to be a hot day. Rubbing your thumb along her forehead where you knew there was a garden of freckles, you raked your fingers back through her hair. Robin hummed and tilted her face up. You tucked a strand behind her ear and moved down to her neck. 

“Think of me sometimes

Because if loving you was so wrong 

Then I’m guilty of this crime…”

“What,” you faltered for a moment, your voice sounding like an intrusion; a tear in the canvas. “What do your parents think of me?”

Robin’s thumb was pressed against your wrist. 

“What do you mean?” She lifted her chin further; she was listening, even though both of you were staring at the sun-covered wall. The corner of one of her posters had peeled back. There was a sticker a few inches from the ceiling. Robin must have jumped to put it there. 

“I mean, like…” You meant: did they know you kissed their daughter. Did they know you were saving up to get her an apartment, a life away from here. Did they know you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her. 

“They, uhm, don’t know about us. I-If that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Mine neither,” you quickly said. Robin let out a breath -- you realized that it was a relieved one.

It was a hard thing to tell someone. It was hard to tell your parents anything at all. 

“Do you… want them to know?” Robin slowly asked. She hadn’t stopped running her thumb along your wrist. You felt like there was something to that. Something important. 

“No,” you were honest. Then, “I’m… sorry.” And it was honest, too.

“No, don’t be,” Robin moved to sit up, then changed her mind and pulled your arm closer, sliding your hand down to settle below her ribs. She tucked her face into the crook of your elbow. “Don’t be. I get it. Trust me,” she blew out a breath that was almost a laugh. “I definitely get it.”

“I was scared you were going to hate me, once,” you murmured. “Before…” You shook your head, fingers wandering over her shirt. Your shirt. 

You were scared of her, once -- back before you’d realized there was a world where she would ever be wearing your shirt. Back when you’d read her bubbly writing on a nametag and known that you were absolutely, helplessly caught up in her. 

Robin took a breath, lips forming the almost-beginning of something. And then, instead, she said, “I never could have hated you.”

You tried to imagine a world where Robin hated you, but in all of them, she was only ever wearing your shirt. 

Sliding your arm out of her grip, you folded your fingers between hers, squeezing onto them like you never planned to let go. 

“But what’s inside

Can’t be denied

The power, the power of love

Is my only guide”

Robin hummed softly to the music, and you felt the vibrations when she moved your hands up to kiss your knuckles. The world felt heavy, but the room felt light. You breathed deeply from the air inside Robin’s bedroom, preserved in time like a painting, just like the yard outside where your bike sat collecting falling petals and blades of grass weaving between the spokes. Inside -- inside her house, her room, the painting -- you wrapped your legs around her hips to hold her closer. You always wanted her closer. Ever since that moment in the lake, with water dripping off her hair and her skin soft under the moonlight, you’d known that you couldn’t live without the feeling of her. And Robin -- she leaned into your knee, turning her cheek to it and settling in like she couldn’t live without you, either. 

“Can I…” she murmured. “Here, let me see something, just…” With her words floating into the summer sunlight, she lifted your hands up, holding them out so your intertwined fingers joined the scene of her room in delicate brushstrokes. 

“Hm?” you hummed. It joined Robin’s words as they floated. 

Pulling her fingers free, she arranged your hand in the air, uncurling your fingers, smoothing over your skin like she was opening a flower. With a quick gesture, she told you to “stay” -- a painter with her brush, a master at her craft -- and you watched as she hovered over the rings stacked on her left hand. A simple silver band -- “My dad gave it to me when I was eight. It barely fits my pinky, but I can’t get rid of it. Feel like I would get ten years of bad luck or something” -- a small flower made of wire, two guitar strings twisted together; made by Eddie, who’d given her and Steve each one for Christmas last year. He’d promised to make you one, but “Not for Christmas. That would be too predictable; who likes knowing what their present’s gonna be? Ruins the Christmas spirit if you ask me.” -- and finally, on her ring finger, the silver band with the pale blue gemstone. This ring, you rarely saw her without. The others she would rotate, wearing one or the other, but this one… 

Robin slid it off her finger, holding it up and watching the gemstone pick up the light and fracture it into a thousand splitters, like shatters of blue glass reflecting onto the ceiling. She tilted it, then dropped her arm to rub the gem against your shirt over her stomach. And then, then she lifted your hand with the gentlest of touches and slid the ring onto your finger. Your ring finger. And that was about as important as anything ever could be. 

“...What--”

“It’s yours,” she nodded, raising your hand into the morning sunlight. She smiled distantly at it, as if she was the only one in the room, and then she turned to look at you. “And, uh… I’m yours, too.” Her smile turned shy, her freckles bedding down in a garden of rosy blush. You leaned into her and tried to kiss every single one of them. Who could guess how long it would take? You both had the time. 

_________________________________________________________

“I want to show you something,” she said. 

You were wearing her jacket and your arms felt warm. Part of that, you thought, was from knowing that she’d worn it before you. That you now existed in the space she had occupied. Across the room she sat, looking at you with a softness and an eagerness. You smiled. You couldn’t help it.

“What?” you asked, rubbing circles on the sleeve of her jacket where it was pressed into your palm.

She sprung up from her desk chair, all tawny hair and long limbs and mischievous smile, which you knew meant she was especially excited about whatever she wanted to show you. Placing her hands just above your knees, her squeeze made your head feel dizzy.

“An alien spaceship,” she murmured. With a wink, she pushed off of you and skipped for the door, waiting until she’d reached it to twirl languishly around. She smirked, one of those secret smirks that you knew no one else in the world had seen because they were meant for you alone, and leaned toward the hallway alluringly. 

“Alright, space girl,” you said -- the first time you’d called her anything like that. It was fitting; there was no one in the world like her, and the version of yourself that you became in her presence couldn’t be explained by anything that belonged to this world. 

She was something else, your girl. 

Yours.

The ring on your finger felt heavy. Heavy like grounding. Like the thing that tied you both to this world even if you didn’t quite belong to it. Your thumb moved from the sleeve of her jacket to press onto the gem laid in the silver band. It was cold, but it soon warmed against your skin. 

Robin was waiting by the door. 

You stood and took her hand.

Hours ago, the two of you had returned to her room, but now it was draped in afternoon sunlight. It was stronger and not as soft as the morning light that had covered you like a sheer fabric -- the afternoon was more like fine silk. Robin looked the same in every shade of the day: beautiful. Always. Even when -- no, especially when she was hanging upside down on her chair, swiveling it from side to side while she talked animatedly with her hands about something that had happened in Family Video the other day. Especially when she laughed so hard at some stupid joke you’d made that she snorted and nearly choked on her lemonade. Especially when she got annoyed at the TV when it wouldn’t pick up a signal unless she was holding the antenna just right. 

“Sorry, but we have to break up. I only have eyes for this television now, and she’s a demanding lover.”

You’d laughed, heart swelling at the confirmation that “breaking up” gave you. She truly was yours. 

Well, unless the TV stole her away.

Hours ago, the two of you had returned to her room, fingers intertwined as she led you through her home even though you knew the way by now as if you’d known it in a past life, but hours before that, you’d sat in the kitchen, in the living room, on her lap. Hours before that, you’d kissed her just as passionately as you had the night before, when you’d felt her skin grow hot under your fingers. 

But now, hours later, you were following her out into the yard. You were pulling your bike from the bushes along the side of her house, feeling satisfied when you had to tear away a few vines that clung to the wheels. And then you were running, bike trailing by your side, after Robin, who laughed into the sunlight and shook the hair out of her face. You could see enough of it to notice the way her nose was crinkled, and then she turned forward again and swung herself up onto her bike. You followed suit, the soles of your shoes striking the pedals, and you relished in the solid pressure of them under your feet, the way your muscles sang when you pushed yourself forward after Robin. 

The air carried a warm breeze and, though you missed the weight of it, you were glad to have shed Robin’s jacket in favor of lighter layers. Sweat beaded on your brow as you pumped your legs, soon catching up. Robin threw a grin over her shoulder, her hair furling around her face wildly. You laughed into the late summer sky.

You had no clue where you were going, but you rode through town, swerving around evening traffic as tired office workers made their steady way home. Some of them stopped at the general store or the post office. Robin rode past them like they weren’t even there. You followed her like she was the only person in all of Hawkins. Where it counted, she was.

She swiftly led you out of town, breaking into the backroads like some mermaid slipping into water; suddenly, she could breathe again. And you felt like you were breathing for the first time. You took a deep, gasping breath of air and let it out in a whoop. Standing on your pedals, you raced in front of her, hearing her high, husky laugh. A moment later she swam into view beside you. 

This road you recognized, and you were only slightly surprised when Family Video and its sister shops appeared in the distance. You and Robin’s pace had slowed, though it remained steady. The parking lot outside Family Video was empty except for two cars: a BMW and a big, familiar run-down van. 

Steve and Eddie were outside, lingering after Family Video had closed. Steve was leaning back against the rough side of the building, and Eddie had his arm propped above Steve’s head. You grinned, lifting your hand in reply to their sudden waving. Even from this distance, you knew each other. Robin whooped loudly, and Eddie made devil horns and pulled a face like he might chase after her, and you could see Steve roll his eyes even from the center of the road. And then they were gone, left in the rearview as the two of you peddled on.  

The breeze had turned cooler -- a reminder that summer was at the end of its life -- and the sun was nowhere to be found, lost somewhere behind the endless forest of trees that ran parallel to the road. You recognized the spot where Robin had met you all those weeks ago, when you’d walked and listened to The Smiths and wore flower crowns. That, too, passed behind you -- slipping by your shoulder and, just as you turned to look at it, growing distant and seemingly unimportant.

You knew, though. You knew what it had meant. But things were also so different now. Time kept going, and it pulled you with it. For once in your life, you were grateful for that.

Your pace had slowed again, and just like the buildings and the people, the trees gradually began to thin out. 

“Robin,” you called, unable and entirely unwilling to keep the smile from your voice, “Where are we going?”

“I told you,” she grinned, falling back to set a new pace -- a much more relaxed one. “Surprise.” She lifted her eyebrows and gave them a wiggle.

Now that you weren’t peddling so hard -- now that you could sit back and catch your breath -- you looked around, taking in the far less populated corner of Hawkins. On either side of the road, which had cracked and crumbled and faded to a pale asphalt blue under the relentless scrutiny of the sun, there stretched wide open fields. At the start of the summer, they would have been overflowing with growing stalks of corn -- even now, you could see the hollow stumps; all that remained of what had once been a sea. Now, the slightly rocky and almost alarmingly flat farmland bared itself to the sky like the underbelly of a beast that had rolled over to take a nap. 

Even the fields were preparing for the coming winter. Unlike the fields, the rest of Hawkins would be continuing forward in motion; it was only the land that would get to rest. 

Speaking of rest, you only just realized how late it had gotten. The air was significantly cooler now, making you think of the jacket you’d once been glad to have left behind. You shivered, but it was from excitement as much as it was the chill. 

“Here,” Robin suddenly said, pushing her heels down into her brakes. You hurried to follow, and the sound of tires dragging across the asphalt was the only sound for miles. Even the birdsong had faded away, still back with the trees and the busy Hawkin’s streets. They would be dead by now. Everyone would be settled home, eating dinner or watching TV, surrounded by the quiet glow of their home. Your own parents, you thought, were likely sitting in the living room, illuminated by the light of the television and that old lamp that had been passed down by your Grandmother. 

Standing in the middle of the road, cold fingers gripping the handlebars of your bike, breathing heavily into the wide open sky, you felt like maybe, in a way, you were home, too. 

“This is it,” Robin whispered, perched on the seat of her bike like a bird in a high tree. Her eyes were on the sky. 

You took a moment to look at her, her face framed by all that open space, and you only realized the whole world had changed color because Robin looked particularly beautiful in that shade of orange. 

And then you looked up. 

The whole sky was red. Orange bursts of clouds like paint-soaked cotton rolled across it, so still it was like you were looking at a photograph. The deep maroon melted into a rich pink at the horizon, and every inch of it glowed radiantly. You'd never seen so much sky in your whole life. You thought you could hear the world singing. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed, catching your balance on an outstretched foot. Your bike teetered as you craned your neck. 

“Exactly,” Robin grinned like the two of you shared a secret. More secrets than just this, you realized. 

You shared so much with her; this sky was just another thing. 

Next to you, Robin reached across the point that marked the center of the road -- that invisible line that you could almost see if you looked hard enough and imagined that it should be there -- and she held out her hand. You took it, spinning the ring on your finger around until the gemstone was pressed into your palm. You held it close until it warmed. The cold air blew between you, not enough to push the clouds in the sky, but just enough to make you shiver.

Robin squeezed your hand and, at the edge of Hawkins, under a sky on fire, you could see the rest of your life on the road in front of you. 

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

1992

“Hi there, I’m calling for Steve Harrington. He gave me this number to get ahold of him.” You glanced up at Robin, her face coming into focus, and were briefly distracted by the realization she still had the bluest eyes you’d ever seen, even after all these years; even after all the places you’d been and people you'd met. 

“Yes--” you raised your eyebrows at the voice on the other end of the line. Robin bounced carefully, like if she got too excited the hotel receptionist would be able to hear it. 

“Yeah, sure,” you repeated, then gave the receptionist your name before holding your hand over the phone and whispering, “She’s gonna call up to their room.”

“Right, of course. She has to make sure we’re not stalkers or something.”

“Well,” you drawled, tilting your head. 

“We are not,” Robin grinned, gently slapping your arm. “We’re just -- worried friends.”

“I think that fits into the realm of ‘stalkers.’ Might even be a subcategory-- Yes?” you pulled your hand away, straightening up. Robin drifted in your line of vision as you turned to the wall, unwilling to let your face out of her sight. 

“Uh-huh…. Okay…”

“What?” Robin hissed. You held up a finger. The woman in your ear was talking fast, obviously eager to get back to some task that didn’t involve you. 

“Okay perfect. Thank you.”

“What did she say?” Robin asked, fiddling with her hands. You titled the mouthpiece away, just in case, and listened to the cheery music crackling through the receiver. 

“She’s sending us up. Should only be a few minutes before--”

“You guys couldn’t wait another day could you?”

“Steve!” you grinned, and Robin flapped her hands excitedly. 

“Hi Steve!” she yelled, and you held the phone out so he could hear her. He probably could have heard her anyway. 

“Obviously not,” you replied, pulling the phone back to your ear. Robin behind you and pressed her cheek against yours so she could hear his replies. You wrapped your arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze. 

“How was the ride up?” Robin asked. 

“Loud, crowded--”

“Smelling of old socks.”

“Eddie,” you grinned. 

“My fair ladies,” his voice got closer. You imagined him and Steve standing in a similar fashion, sharing the phone in a dimly lit hotel room.

“Gross,” Robin muttered, rolling her eyes fondly. You checked your watch. 

“You don’t have Dustin and Will yet, do you?”

“Not yet,” Steve replied. 

“They’re still prisoners at the moment. Go figure,” came Eddie’s voice. You could practically hear Steve roll his eyes. He and Robin were more similar than they’d care to admit. 

Living together might have contributed. 

“Would you knock it off,” Steve’s voice grew distant, then returned. “They took their finals yesterday. Spring break officially starts tomorrow.”

“When do you plan to leave?” you asked, pulling the pen off the notepad that hung by the phone. 

“Probably around ten. Gonna take the little shits for breakfast before we hit the road.”

“Don’t hit it too hard,” Robin leaned in to say. You both heard Eddie’s barking laughter. 

“Hey new girl, tell Robin to add a dollar to the jar,” Steve said. 

“But I didn’t swear.”

“No, but I’m about to--”

“Okay,” you butted in, smirking. “Mattresses are blown up, snacks are stocked -- that table you wanted is all set up, Eds.”

“You’re my hero,” Eddie replied. His voice kept fading in and out, and you’d shared space with him long enough to know that he was probably bouncing around the room. 

Steve’s groan, on the other hand, was loud in your hear. 

“D’you guys really have to play that dumb game? It’s vacation, you’re supposed to have fun. ”

“This is fun, Harrington.”

“Whatever.”

“Um, guys,” Robin interjected using that exaggerated voice she reserved for them, particularly when they were annoying her. “Can we stay focused, please? If you keep bickering like an old married couple, you’re going to scare the kids away before you even get here.”

“Please--” Eddie scoffed, again from a distance, while Steve said, “We don’t bicker.”

You and Robin shared a look. It would have been a lie to say it wasn’t a little bit fond. 

“Besides, they’re not really kids anymore,” Steve added, suddenly sounding wistful. 

And he was right. They weren’t kids anymore. Dustin and Will had been in college for almost two years now. Lucas was on the other side of the country thanks to a basketball scholarship, Max was interning at a non-profit in California -- which put her closer to Joyce and El. You knew she was happy about that. So, Steve was right: the kids weren’t really kids anymore. And though you hadn’t known them as long as the others, watching them grow up and move on -- watching the effect it had on your three friends; a mix of pride and sorrow -- had changed you as much as it had changed Robin, Steve, and Eddie. 

The four of you had stayed in Indiana, but the people you’d stayed for had all left. 

It wasn’t bad, though. For the first time in your lives, you had total freedom. You didn’t have to hide from your parents, or the world -- the world had moved into your two-bedroom apartment; everything outside of here was nothing. 

It meant that you could give Steve and Eddie as honest of a goodbye as you wanted to without anyone reading into it or asking what they were to you. It meant that, after hanging up the phone, you could pull Robin against your chest and kiss her. It meant that, in the spirit of enjoying an apartment that wouldn’t be empty for much longer, you could do so much more to her than that. 

A few states and a few hundred miles away, your friends were making their way home, to a little building that sat just outside of Hawkins, Indiana. It was a modest building, with weeds in the flowerbed outside and cracks in the walls. The windows let the winter air in, sure, but there was enough warmth to go around. And maybe everyone had moved on and away, but by staying, you and Robin had found something you’d never thought you’d have before, something you’d only dared to dream of during the summer of 1987… 

A corner of this Earth that could be your very own. 

“I love you,” Robin slowly whispered, each word a promise, her hands in your hair like the endless galaxy that stretched above you, just beyond the ceiling. “Earth girl,” she smiled. 

You leaned forward and tasted it. It tasted of tall grass and indigo and The Smiths.

“I love you more,” you murmured against her cheek. 

In the empty space above the cupboards, four coffee containers looked down at you, unaware of the role they’d played in anything at all, hardly remembering the diner they’d come from. And, somewhere off in the distance, as if it was floating through the window from another room, lazy on the spring breeze, you thought you could hear the soft sounds of a familiar tune. 

“So long ago

It’s a certain time, it’s a certain place

You touched my hand and you smiled

All the way back you held out your hand

But I hope, and if I pray

Ooh, it might work out someday… ”

__________________________________________________________

Taglist: @alonezz , @gaysludge, @gray-cheese, @rare-breed-of-human, @vea-vea-vea, @lady-silkwing, @im-a-milf, @yourmanifestingbigsister, @bubbles0oo, @wormm-mom

[brain-usurped-by-bug]

My Curated Turbo/King Candy playlist!

These 22 23 songs were selected for their lyrical connection first and vibes second, although the playlist mostly consists of rock and electronic music. I have arranged the playlist roughly in narrative order for maximum vibes.

Tracklist (as of Sept 14, 2024), along with choice lyrics and overly deep explanations on why these songs fit.

"The End" - My Chemical Romance. Serves as an introduction to the playlist, and a warning of the downfall that is to come. "Save me! Save me! You Can't! Take me!"

"The Main Character" - Will Wood. A sharp transition away from the introduction, taking you back to a happier time. Despite the bright tone, the lyrics introduce a self centered character who feels he deserves love and attention. "I'm the main character, and you have to like me."

"I'm Gonna Win" - Rob Cantor. A Rock music. The lyrics speak of winning at all costs and a refusal to give up. "I'll never loose, I'll never die. You've seen me before, you'll see me again."

"Kickstart My Heart" - Motley Crue. Energetic rock music, representing confidence and the excitement of a race.

"Freak of the Week" - Freak Kitchen. Harsher rock music, the lyrics speak of a willingness to do anything for attention, including self mutilation. "Like me, like me, won't you like me?"

"Final Transmision" - The Living Tombstone. Electronic music, and the transition into the road blasters era. "Pushing off the payload, no cable to rewind him." "Eyelids getting heavy, sleep it off now kid, everyone knows now exactly what you did."

"Bloodstains" - Agent Orange. Angry rock, falling into mental illness. Considering homicide as a solution to his problems. "Ah things seems so much different now, the scene has died away. I haven't got a steady job, and I've got no place to stay."

"Alien Blues" - Vundabar. More mental illness rock. Disillusioned and disconnected to the people around him, popularity fading. "My teeth are yellow, hello world. Would you like me a little better if they were white like yours?"

"Cowboy Dan" - Modest Mouse. Sad cowboy rock, shortly before the road blasters incident. He is angry and dissatisfied with is place in life. he is a major player in his scene, but he wants more, he wants war. He hates how things have changed. he wants out. "He hops in his pickup, puts the pedal to the floor, and says, 'I got mine, but I want more'." "Can't do it, not even if sober, can't get that engine turned over."

"Toba the Tura" - Forgive Durden. Post-Roadblasters regret. lots of great lyrics here. "I watched the lamps fall, You pushed them over. They say you're gifted, Well I just see a scared kid." "The raw scorched Earth, It's a trophy of your worth." "Your cold wicked soul boasts a foul scent." "This mess that you made, it's a six-foot grave, It's a home for your lonesome bones that remain. We'll disappear you'll stay here, To rot as the king of the dark and forgot." "(Oh what have you done, disobedient son) What have I become? (You've broken the trust) Destroyed all I loved."

"My Crt" - Dream Puzzles. Moody electronic music about being hunted by a yellow eyed man inside a computer. Is he haunting himself, or is it an external force?

"Awoken" - Wooden Toster. He lives in pain and regret, but he has awoken from the monotony and is prepared to make a change. "Pushed by desire to change the way my stream will frow. now I've awoken and I'm taking back control."

"Sirens" - Bear Ghost. A drift into headcanon territory. He he's sick of hiding, so he goes out to have fun and let off steam, but he's terrified of being caught, and nearly is.

"A Mask of My Own Face" - Lemon Demon. A turn to the playful and sinister. A mask is put on, he goes around in disguise, and is proud of himself. "I'd wear it on Thanksgiving and I'd laugh in the parade at all the people hissing, knowing I'm the one they hate."

"Cabinet Man" - Lemon Demon. THE Turbo song. He reflects on his past and decides to take over Sugar Rush. Perfect vibes, to many fitting lyrics to list. Someone sinister is lurking in a game cabinet, assumed dead, existing unseen, unbeatable, breaking in. Half Human and Half Machine.

"My Ordinary Life" - The Living Tombstone. He's a king on top of the world, surrounded by admirers. He's on a high. He loves the glitz and glamour, but it's all a farse. "People blend together but I would be lost without their love. Can you heal me have I gained too much?" "Is there a real me? Pop the camphane."

"Ruler of Everything" - Tally Hall. He is playfully in control of everything, but his inner darkness still lurks. "Your facade is a scam, you know you're making me cry this is the way that I am. I've been living a lie, a metamorphical scheme."

"Dear Dictator" - Saint Motell. A return to rock music. The point of no return has long been passed. Judgment is on the horizon. "Nobody has ever seen his face, but fear his smile." "And at the trial they'll be no jury, and all the dead are gonna play witness. It's not too late to say you're sorry, but it's to late to truly mean it."

"Wolf in Sheep's Clothing" - Set it Off. A return to rage. He's lying and hurting people to keep his position. "So, tell me how you're sleeping easy, how you're only thinking of yourself. Show me how you justify, telling all your lies like second nature."

"House of Wolves" - My Chemical Romance. He knows he faces eternal damnation, but it's way too late to turn back, so instead he embraces it. "Take this to my grave." "Tell me I'm a bad, bad, bad, bad man."

"Unconditional Love" - Against Me!. Cybug Transformation. He is doomed, and not even unconditional love can save him now. "Half digested and eternal, somewhere lost in the ephemeral."

"Dead!" - My Chemical Romance. Death. “Did you get what you deserve? The ending of your life." "Have you head the news that you're dead? No one ever had much nice to say, I think they never liked you anyway."

.

"Puzzle Pieces" - Saint Motell. Bonus track! y/n sings about how Turbo/King Candy has designed himself, and is made up of all these pieces that don't fit together. "I can hardly move, I can barely breath, near your features."

[cablecar-s]

to love and self loath

Description :

With the death of her lover too much to bear, she makes the decision to run away from her life as Spider Woman, finding solace in the most crime ridden place in the U.S: Gotham City.

Note:

Hello! I'm currently just testing the waters of Tumblr at the moment, so bear with me because I have no idea what I'm doing. Constructive criticism is welcomed, just remember to not be mean >:/ Enjoy the first chapter!!

part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

Prepare For Trouble

"You're Spider-Woman, right?" He looked at her with a knowing yet amused smile on his face, all the while the woman who stood before him could only stare at him with slight bafflement. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, she blinked at him, beginning to stammer.

"I.. What? How could you..? What kind of crazy.." She let out a small mix of what seemed to be a huff and laughter in trying to play off his not-so-false statement.

Her crush could only give her a look that read all too clearly as 'Really?' which led her to promptly give up, a sigh of defeat leaving her lips.

"I.. Yeah, you got me. I'm.. I'm Spider-Woman." She looked at him with a defeated smile. "How'd you know though? I thought I was pretty secretive!" She raised her hands up in defense, making him laugh.

"Well, with how much you sometimes ditch me last minute every time I hear sirens going off or how you always disappear out of thin air when something big or small happens, it was pretty easy to deduce the reasons why." He chuckled softly.

"You are also talking to the most smartest person in his entire school." He quickly added.

The female vigilante could only slightly scoff at this, looking around, as if someone else could hear the ridiculousness that was coming out from his mouth.

"Really now?" She questioned, almost mockingly.

Slowly, the two teenagers inched closer to one another while continuing to bicker, a teasing smile on both of their faces until finally they were mere inches away from one another.

"I hope you're not waiting for something." The teenaged boy said teasingly, a smile on his lips.

"No, not at all." The girl hummed, smiling back.

With the night air nipping at their skin, the warmth of their breaths could be felt on one another. And as they leaned in for a kiss, the floor beneath them fell in an instant, and they were soon falling down the clock tower.

With her spider suit on, breathing now heavy, adrenaline pumping into her veins, she watched as the boy she loved since high school began falling, watching as her single web was shot down towards him.

It was silent in that moment, everything having gone in slow motion, her web slowly reaching out to him, but was only seconds too late. The web, sticking itself to the man at the last second, his head still hitting the cold, hard floor, killing him in an instant.

The sound of her cries echoed in the now broken clock tower; grief, guilt, and anger consuming her body, until...

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP

In an instant the woman woke up, covered in her sweat, her heart pounding against her chest. Her fight and flight instincts having kicked in, her eyes darted around her new apartment, her brain slowly catching up as to where she was. 

The muffled sound of cars honking from outside her window was heard, the slight musty smell that her apartment had, and the multiple of unpacked boxes laying around in her small bedroom had slowly calmed her down.

Memories from a few days ago came back to her again, making her sigh while simultaneously burying her face into her hands, that night continuing to haunt her time and time again no matter how many times she had tried to forget. 

Finally turning the alarm on her phone off, she got herself out of bed and went to her bathroom to freshen up, her morning not doing so well with that dream of hers. 

Pulling her hair back from her face, the woman left her bathroom and started to continue where she had left off from yesterday with unpacking her stuff. Putting her playlist on shuffle, she began digging through all of the boxes that held her belongings, putting them in their respective places.

The female vigilante was glad to have gotten away from New York, it gave her time to take a break from playing Spider-Woman—and to hopefully heal. Though it's obvious someone from above thought it would be funny that she would be transferred in the most highest crime rated city: Gotham City.

There goes her vacation.

Though Gotham City should be fine without the help of Spider-Woman shouldn't it? They have all the other vigilantes that kept Gotham fairly safe.

From Batman and Robin to Nightwing, Orphan, Spoiler, hell they even have someone to protect Gotham in the morning, which would be Signal. Of course there was also Red Hood, though she still wasn't so sure if he was to be counted since he did run a few drug cartels.

Wasn't really her business though, as long as she didn't have to do any fighting in the mean time of her slight vacation. 

Boy was she wrong.

"I need you to take some photos of our vigilantes." Her new boss ordered.

"I'm sorry?" The woman furrowed her brows, staring at the woman who was busy typing away on her computer.

"You heard me. Pictures. Vigilantes. Stat." Her voice was monotone, yet it had a slight intimidation to it. 

The vacationing vigilante did her best in holding back her frustration, moving her arms a bit to exaggerate her words just a bit. 

"But Gotham is a lot more crime ridden at night. Can't you have one of the men do it? I'm sure they'd be less likely to get mugged unlike me." She couldn't help but huff, nothing but familiar with this attitude this older woman had.

She was very much the same as Jameson back at the Daily Bugle.

It wasn't long until the woman peeled her eyes off from her computer screen to stare at the vigilante with sharp eyes.

"Listen sweetheart, the reason why you were even transferred here was because of the crystal clear pictures you had taken of Spider Woman over back from where you're from." Opening a file cabinet from her desk, she flipped through a few divided folders before pulling one out in particular and opening it up, slightly tossing it in the middle of her desk.

Photos that she had taken slid itself out from its place in the divider, all of them of which were in good quality and all had good angles to them, only because she was quite literally taking pictures of herself in order to even obtain a job as a photojournalist.

"So it's either you take photos as nice as these of our vigilantes or we can throw you back to New York, your choice." Quite literally, Jameson's female doppelganger looked back up at her new transferee before going back to typing.

Letting out a small sigh, a muttered "Yes ma'am" left her lips before leaving her new demon boss' office. She really can't catch a break can she? 

Well it's not like she wasn't a night person in the first place right? Being able to do whatever she wanted during the day, and once the sun had disappeared and the darkness and rain had taken over Gotham was when it was her time to go out and do her job.

The only downside was how incredibly freezing cold it was in Gotham once night had hit. She could stand the cold to some degree, as a New Yorker she was quite used to the cold, but Gotham was a whole other story.

She should probably install thermos into her suit. As much as she didn't want to think about vigilantism, she knew deep down she would end up doing it, only reason she had brought her suit, which was buried in the deepest parts of her closets.

As her uncle had said time and time again: With great power comes great responsibility.

Being way too busy being deep in her thoughts while slightly, not really, looking as to where any of Gotham's vigilantes may be swinging by, the hair's on her body shot up, the familiar feeling of a tingling sensation in the back of her head appearing.

With swiftness, she side stepped a hand that had tried to take hold of the back of her neck. Turning around, she found herself eyeing three men, all having sinister smiles on their faces.

Just what exactly was her luck today?

"Come on boys, don't you think three of you is a bit much for a single woman like me?" She questioned, a nervous chuckle leaving her lips.

Every step back she had taken, they had taken two steps forward. They had glanced amongst each other, snickers leaving their mouths.

"Not with a lady as pretty as you." One of them commented.

Slowly, they had backed her into a closed off alleyway, all three of them laughing once her back had hit the brick wall.

Her eyes darted around, checking every crevice, every shadow, trying to see if any of Gotham's vigilantes will swoop down to rescue her, and save her the trouble of having to take care of these men herself. 

But there was no one, not even the slightest of movements, not a glint of lenses shining in the dim lighting. Welp, looks like she's on her own for tonight. 

"You guys, really don't want to do this." She warned them, but they only laughed more. They always laugh. Who wouldn't though? A helpless woman who you've backed into a corner telling you they're gonna regret what they're gonna do?

Good thing she wasn't just any ordinary woman though.

"We're gonna have so much fun with you pretty lady." One of them cackled.

"Ugh, how gross..." She muttered.

Glancing around one last time, this time, making sure there would be no bystanders to witness as to what was going to happen.

Pulling up the hood to her winter coat, she let out a sigh, raising one of her arms, pointing it towards one of the men.

"You asked for it." 

In the blink of an eye, her webs shot out from her wrist, a long string going straight for the one in the middle, before he was heaved straight towards the woman before making a harsh impact with a trash can lid.

"Ooh, you'll be feeling that tomorrow." She winced.

Grunts of surprise came from the other two men, but no matter how odd it was for webs to shoot out from a woman's hand, they proceeded to run at the female. With ease, she dodged their attempted charged attacks.

Her hands, opposite of the two men, shot out webs and took hold of the back of their heads before she pulled at the connected webs, causing the two men to bash their skulls together.

"You'll definitely feel that tomorrow." She chuckled. 

Taking a few steps back, she hesitated for a moment and stared at them before quickly rearranging the positions of their bodies.

"Just in case..." She muttered. With their backs all facing each others', she bundled them up in her webs, a precaution if they ended up gaining back consciousness before the morning

Dusting off her hands, she let out a satisfied hum before securing her hood once more before quickly jogging off, not wanting to be found at the scene of the crime. That would only cause herself more trouble. 

"Lets just call it a night, I'm freezing my ass off here." She muttered to herself, trying to bring her coat as close to her body as possible, not wanting to lose what bit of warmth her body was keeping.

Unknowingly to the spider though, a mysterious figure with their infamous red helmet had stumbled upon her small clean up, the two barely missing each other.

He stared at the scene in front of him, his helmet quickly getting to work in scanning the mysterious webs. With his boots softly kicking at the small puddles on the ground, he crouched down, taking a closer look at the webs.

His helmet broke down the composition of the webs, seeing how it was made with a few chemicals. Reaching out his hand, he began to touch the webs a bit, trying to rip at it for a sample.

It clung to his leather glove, and it took a bit of force until it got unstuck, it almost took his glove with it with how hard he was pulling.

"The hell..?" He muttered to himself.

He rubbed his fingers together, some of stickiness staying on his gloved fingers. He took out his knife from one of his secret pockets instead and cut a bit of the web off, making it cling to his blade.

"This shit better come off..." He grumbled before putting his knife away. 

Standing up, he took out his grapple from his utility belt before disappearing into the night. 

---

The spider quickly shot up from her bed, her breathing irregular and covered in her sweat again, tortured once again by that never ending nightmare. Her eyes darting around her bedroom once more, she takes slow deep breaths before covering her eyes with her hands, the palm of her hands pressing into her eyelids.

Letting out a deep sigh, she got out of her bed, doing her morning routine once more. Scrolling through her phone, she looks at the news of Gotham City, most of them mainly about the many crimes of the city, some of politicians, and others of Bruce Wayne. 

Before putting her phone down though, a message popped from the top of her screen, it was from her new boss.

"I better have those photos by the end of this week!!!!" It had read.

The woman only rolled her eyes, turning off her phone so she could dump her face in water. 

Leaving her bathroom, she rubbed her moisturizer onto her face while making her way to her living room that also shared her kitchen. Starting up her coffee machine, she made herself a quick PB&J in the meantime. 

Leaning against the counter as she slowly ate her sandwich, the smell of coffee beginning to waft in the air, the vacationing vigilante took a good look at her small apartment. 

It was.. 

A bit bland to put it nicely. 

Guess she was going shopping today. Quickly downing her coffee without trying to burn her tongue, she quickly got dressed and headed out to do a bit of shopping, to make her apartment just a bit more welcoming for the time that she was staying in Gotham. 

Though she had a bit of a tight budget, she managed to buy a few things well within it that there was a little left over that she could buy herself dinner.

By the time she was done shopping though, the sun was beginning to set, meaning that it was nearly time for the criminals of Gotham to come crawling out of their hiding spots to cause some trouble.

"Shit..." She muttered under her breath, holding onto her plastic bags tightly, her shoes tapping against the cement as she quickly tries to make it back to her apartment before she got mugged.

Her senses have heightened a bit as a sense of panic and wariness began to settle in her stomach. Her eyes flitted about, cautious of every corner, every shadow, every alley, the last light sunset disappearing over the horizon.

Cursing under her breath, her steps quickened, and then there she saw it. A blur of bright red, green, and yellow flying in the air; it was Robin.

Her boss's text from this morning came back to her, which only made her curse more. Of course she didn't bring her camera. The handles of the bags hanging from one of her arms, she quickly fishes out her phone from her back pocket, turning the flash on to take a quick picture of Robin before he disappeared off into the night.

She cursed at his nimbleness, taking a small step back as he flies above her, but just as she was about to take the picture, she had bumped into something sturdy. 

Blinking, she slowly turned around, only to come face to face with someone's chest, Batman's symbol on a black shirt, but instead it was in red.

Slowly, she looked up, only to find herself face to face with the Red Hood.

Click!

The flash to her phone went off as she took a picture of him.

next chapter ->

[gallaghersgal]

hello everyone! tysm for 1,500 followers, this means so much to me as someone who took almost a YEAR off of writing. the support i get and the friends i've made here mean so much to me! so LET'S CELEBTATE 🎉🎉

celebration masterlist here. looking for my main masterlist? it’s linked up top under "writer" <3

p.s. special shoutouts to my beloved moots at the bottom <3

❀ GENERAL RULES & INFO ❀

you can send in as many requests as you’d like!

if you don’t want spam, block/filter #maggie's 1.5k

it’s not required to be be following @gallaghersgal but it would be appreciated. if this is your first time interacting with my blog, come check me out!

also not required but if you like my content, go check out @carmenberzattosgf @thecapricunt1616 @mouseymilkovich @carmybrainworms and @notsonian they're great writers and even better friends! <33

this blog is NSFW, 18+ only, and so is this celebration! minors will be notified of this, then blocked if they don't unfollow. i'm not mean, i'm just not comfy with you reading my works underage.

anon is on, by sending an anon ask you are telling me you are 18+

my inbox is open now, so feel free to go send in asks!! celebration requests close Friday, August 23rd at midnight!

❀ REQUESTS ❀

send me in a character + prompt for a blurb! i am accepting prompts from this au list, this trope list, this smut list, or this other smut list.

please include the number or prompt, and the list it's from since there's more than one!

for this celebration i will write for any character from shameless, the bear, marvel cinematic universe, daredevil, all star wars trilogies, the mandalorian, and the clone wars. i will also write any of oscar isaac, pedro pascal, or barry keoghan's characters, or any formula one driver.

i will also write sydcarmy 😚🧚🏻‍♀️

i will do my best to write ANY character from the fandoms listed above, i know i have a wide range of followers! however, i am more likely to lean towards requests for the characters listed here.

please limit your request to one to two prompts, or one au/trope + one prompt. i will have a lot to write, so this will help me get your req done quicker!

requests missing a prompt or character will be deleted. general requests not w/o a celebration prompt will be saved for afterwards.

❀ GAMES ❀

send a 💒 + a self description for me to ship you with someone from any of the media listed here. please include the fandom/media you want a ship from, as well as preference for male/female character or of you have no preference.

send a 💿 for a 5 song playlist based off your blog! or add a character from the listed medias for a playlist based on them.

send a 💌 to shoutout a writer, or to self promo your own fic! i will read & reblog, or give my thoughts on their writings <33

send a 💘 + three characters or people for me to play fuck, marry, kill with

send a 🌸 and ask me any question you have about a blurb or fic of mine!

that's all! enjoy the celebration!! sappy shoutouts to my fav pookies below <33

@tinyphantomsalad THE first mutual i made on here that i'm still talking to. the man i run my filthiest porn by, and he doesn't bat an eye. the love and respect for you i have is insane. what are we at now? four years? feels like four hundred. i love u endlessly.

@thelazyhero-ttums the one that's in my corner 24/7. only irl i have on this god forsaken site, bc you're just so so special. how do you think 7th grade maggie with her hand written leo and calypso fanfic feels about 1.5k? thank you for being with me for all of it.

@devils-dares thank you for sticking by my side even with my change in eras!! and for vibe checking so many fics you know nothing about <33 ur a real one pooks

@carmenberzattosgf im thankful all the time that u messaged me first bc how else would i have someone to get up to dm shenanigans and share my ideas with?

@thecapricunt1616 my sweetest capri, i'm so happy we're friends, i love reading your messages and i LOOVEEE your moodboards my queen

@mouseymilkovich ur a real one cause who else is gonna send me 1926284 ethan cutkosky edits? i love hearing all your plot bunnies for speechless, i can't wait to see where you take the series!

@carmybrainworms i hope you're enjoying your time in the ocean, and i'm so glad i brought u over to the dark side with my lip fics. ur the sweetest silliest ever and ilysm

@l4long-winded & @emotionoitme we haven't talked much yet, but i'm so excited to share more ideas with each other! you're both amazing writers who i'm so glad to call my friends

@notsonian u are genuinely the sweetest, i love talking to you about our ideas (esp the mkverse!) and i love love looovveee your fics! keep up the good work <33

[bearsintreesofficial]

hello tumblr! as you most likely know, with the current state of twitter, people are finally coming back to this wonderful feverdream of a website. this feels like a good time to (re)introduce ourselves.

hi. we are a dirtbag boyband from south london called bears in trees. we’re a bit like the kids at school who would hide under the maths blocks stairs and scribble unconvincing emo lyrics. i say a bit like; but that’s exactly what we did, only we turned those unconvincing emo lyrics into our actual songs. we’ve been on tumblr since 2015, and most of our adolescent years were spent on this website. to be blunt, we’ve been here a while.

we just released our new ep, every moonbeam every feverdream. it’s about oat milk coffee, finally understanding the anxieties your mother feels, and the days where you wish you didn’t have a body. we’re incredibly proud of it and you can listen to it wherever you stream music by clicking here.

we have other songs too - about asthma attacks, pet snails running away, trying to constructively process derealisation, and so much more. if you have spotify and you’re interested in any of those we have a playlist of our best songs to start with; you can find that by clicking here.

if you’re still reading this, i really do think there will be something in our music for you. if not, that’s okay. thank you for taking the time to check us out regardless.

i hope you have a lovely whatever you were doing before you started reading this.

[hyunverse]

Hihi I'm here for Cupid's Corner! There are too many good date options tbh, but I default to a picnic date as a nice little idea in my head. I think the best date is any date that a guy's clearly put enough forethought into or otherwise shown through his actions that he cares. But I like having the option to be cuddly and to talk, and a picnic isn't gonna bankrupt anyone lol 😅 (thanks for putting on the event btw!)

-🌹

— the cupid's heard your wish、your match is lee felix .ᐟ

note. hi 🌹 nonnie! hope u like ur match ^.^

playlist...

margaret by lana del rey ・ right side of my neck by faye webster ・ thinkin bout you by frank ocean ・ come inside of my heart by iv of spades ・ the shade by rex orange county

trope...

i think that the most fitting trope for you is best friends to lovers! picnics are quite intimate, it requires the capability to let your conversation flow and the room for comfortable silence. what's better than a picnic date with your best friend? felix knows you like the back of his hand, he'll have no trouble choosing the food to bring.

headcanons...

felix never really intended to be your best friend. the first time he approached you, he wanted to ask you out but cowered away the moment you said "hello."

as you got closer, his feelings couldn't help but get stronger. however, he loved your presence in his life too much that he didn't want to risk your friendship. felix didn't mind if he had to stay friends forever, as long as he'll have you.

i think that overtime he just had to suck it up and tell you of his feelings! he does it by giving you a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies with a note attached.

being his partner means a lot of cuddle sessions. and i mean a lot!! he enjoys being in silence with you. felix would hold your waist, his chest pressed on your back as he scrolled through his phone. sometimes you'll hear him giggle and he'll go, "baby this one's funny!" please bear with him as he shows you any tiktoks he find funny. if you fall asleep in his arms he won't hesitate to wake you up to show you a cat video. how could you be mad when he bats his eyelashes and looks at you all pretty?

the kind of boyfriend to send you cat pictures and say "this is us."

can and will make you play minecraft with him. felix will 100% put your beds next to each other. he'll do all the mining just as long as you play with him.

plenty of nights in where he'll experiment new recipes with you. whether it be pastries or cakes, he enjoys baking with you. would for sure smear flour on your face.

[lightsoutletsgo]

hello mimikins i am here asking u to ship me w a driver pls and thank u. i am an '03, finishing up year 3 of my super cool and smart science bach degree. ummm i dont know how to describe myself. i like to think im funny and sarcastic and people probably think i talk to much. ok have fun i love u congrats on 500 :P

BEAR!! okay I knew as soon as I saw your request who I was gonna pick fr (I picked him even before our little rant earlier) mwah mimikins 🤍

LOGAN SARGEANT ᝰ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ - calls you sweet girl, pretty girl or baby - loves your eyes so much! like honestly finds himself getting lost in them mid-conversation and then being like "huh? sorry baby what did you say?" - his love language is a mixture of quality time and physical touch. he's happy to spend time just existing with you when you're both doing your own thing, but he also loves cuddling with you and holding your hand - loves loves LOVES when he gets to treat you as his passenger princess! we're talking seat warmer on, blanket, little snack box, charging cable in your favourite colour, cute cosy slippers for your feet and he's the bf who has a "passenger princess" sticker on the passenger seat sun visor mirror

logan loves helping you study! he happily cuts up little fruit pots for you or makes your favourite snack and rewards you with a bite and a kiss when you get the right answer. whenever he can, he picks you up from class after a test and always asks you how it went. he'll cuddle you and tell you you did a good job regardless of the outcome. he's great at helping you stay focused and he will sometimes kidnap your phone so you're not tempted to get distracted.

he loves that you're sarcastic and dry sometimes because it reminds him a lot of oscar's sense of humour so he's used to it. he doesn't mind sometimes being the one you make fun of - he knows you don't mean it, plus! if he pouts about it, he knows you'll kiss him until his pout disappears. loves taking you to drive-in movies and driving to the beach to stargaze. he's actually a real softie and romantic at heart. he loves going on dates like bowling or to the arcade! anything where he gets to hold your hand or be a gentleman or do something for you, like win a huge giant teddy - he finds his heart still skips a beat every time he facetimes you when he's away and you're cuddling the bear dressed in one of his hoodies sprayed with his cologne as a substitute until he comes home.

he never thinks you talk to much! in fact he likes that you talk a lot because he's quite quiet. he loves listening to you mumble to yourself while you're revising and studying and he can't help the way he smiles when he listens to you talking to yourself when cooking or focusing on something. logan finds though that sometimes, late at night when you're curled up next to him, your hand clutching his tightly even in your sleep, he's the one talking. he talks to you about his plans for the future, how glad he is he met you, how much he loves your smile and how happy you made him that day. he swears one day he'll tell you when you're awake but he's still working up the confidence to do it! it's okay though, you know... you caught him one night when he thought you'd fallen asleep and now you try and stay awake that little bit longer just to hear what he will say to you.

"logan?" you call as you open the front door, the weight of today's classes and tests pushing down on your shoulders, "kitchen!" he calls out and from further inside the house you can hear your playlist of nostalgic childhood bops drifting down the hallway. you drop your bag in the hallway and kick your shoes off, just wanting to forget the day already. as you enter the kitchen he looks up at you, a huge grin spread across his face, "how was your day baby?" you just shake your head, unable to find the words. sensing your angst he moves around the kitchen island, "want a hug?" you sigh and nod, your head dropping to lean against his chest as he wraps his arms around you, his head resting on top of yours as he sways you along to the track playing in the background. "well... I'm still proud of you sweet girl." he pulls back to look at your face. placing a soft kiss to your scrunched forehead and sighing with relief inwardly when the tension there melts away. "can I offer you a suggestion to cheer you up?" you nod and he leads you over to the counter excitedly, "I got some of that pizza dough and sauce and toppings and stuff and I figured we could make pizzas and then watch a movie?" you smile at him, "sounds perfect love!" he backs you up against the counter and places a hand either side of you, effectively trapping you, "you are perfect baby."

[melodic-haze]

(🎀) HELLO. HI. THIS IS A VERY IMPORTANT ASK. i come bearing The List™ since i’m still [very] determined to take rayne - the og simp anon - down, and their ask was definitely a cute try - adorable even, but i’ve come here to win your heart, haze. not to play simple children’s games, so, here are 50 concrete reasons as to why i should be your sole & only wife <3

(+ apparently there are ppl following along on this … very strange love saga? hope u guys consider rooting for my side - i’m very committed to my dear haze <3.)

1. i was ur first ever ask, but before that i kept on lurking on ur account since i was too shy to say anything but every time i opened tumblr i checked ur account first, because i genuinely thought your writing was just lovely but i couldn’t find the words to say it </3 i thought of you as beautiful before i had even come to understand you

2. i’d make homemade meals made just for you + i’d satisfy any and all of your cravings

3. i’m mixed filipino, japanese, AND italian, so that’s how yk the food i can cook is good 🤗

4. i’d buy you flowers whenever, just because <3

5. on every birthday & date anniversary i’d spoil you with any and all the gifts (both handmade and bought) you’d ever want just to make your day extra special

6. i’d bake sweet treats for you every week, along w/ cooking breakfast, lunch, and dinner tailored to your likings. bc only the best for you, love 😓😓

7. i’ll write love poems dedicated to you so you’ll know what it is like to be loved by another writer who can see your the beauty of your own language the same way you show your love

8. i’ll take out on beach dates…bookstore dates…photobooth dates…movie dates….anywhere you’d want to go i’ll take you there

9. i’ll write a single love letter to you for each day we’re together and happily married and gift them all to you so you’ll never forget just how much deep my love is for you

10. i’d marry you with paper rings!!

11. my focus in writing / literature in general is poetry and i could write a thousand poems on the beauty of you, your soul, and how gorgeous of a person you already are <3

12. plus i’m the same age as u so…no worrying cases there HAHSHSSJ 😭😭

13. i play the harp + the violin - arguably 2 of the most romantic instruments out there

14. you’d never need to worry about losing a 50/50 again since i’ll fund ALL your gacha game pulls - any character you want you'll have

15. i’d accept that i’d always be #2 to robin, bc. let’s face it. it’s robin, it’s universally impossible to /not/ love her 🫶

16. not only would i be a built-in wife, since i’m [also] a writer, i can be your built-in beta for proofreading and editing advice too

17. i’d drive you anywhere you wanted - passenger princess ofc :) <3

18. you are my eternity, haze. all i’ve been thinking about for the weeks upon end was you. my universe. my other half. the soul of my life, in every way possible, i’d want to love you so intimately; tenderly, slowly, the type of love that feels like the feather-tip press of a kiss to your temple. i’d worship the ground you walked upon if it only meant that the life i would have with you wouldn’t just be a dream. you make this world brighter; something worth living in. i forgave the cruelty the world let run rampant, the day i cast my gaze on you

19. i’d make playlists for every moment we shared together

20. forehead kisses…<3

21. even through death, i would still love you. endlessly. until the end of this universe. the beauty of love will forever transcend the passage of time

22. i’d serenade you with a bridgerton-esque rendition on the violin of lover by taylor swift. or any love song in general, i’d play whatever you wanted as long as it meant i got to fall in love with your soul all over again

23. rain kisses!!! i’d take you out to the sidewalk and pull you into dancing with me under the sheen of the rain <3

24. i’d grow a garden full of your favorite flowers just for you, and on every anniversary i’d hand-pick a bouquet myself because you deserve to be loved the same way it is, to be known

25. i’d take you to late night drives on the beach and i’d just be content watching you in the glow of the sunset, as the waves lap all around us, and for a moment; it’d feel like time itself had stopped in the presence of your beauty.

26. i’d write hand-written notes to leave at your nightstand each morning with tiny gifts (chocolates, handmade jewelry etc)

27. i’d dedicate every love song to ever exist to you <3

28. i’d constantly give out ‘i love you’s’ & reassurance

29. i once believed that my love would forever be burning red, but now that i’ve met you, it’s golden. like the first searing hues of daylight 🙏

30. if you are what you love, then i would spend all of my life writing literature on you. you deserve to be loved gently. even if the divine frowned down on us for our love i’d gladly look back from hell if that meant i could see your face one last time

31. on each birthday of yours, i would write the same amount of poems the age you would be turning, and all of them would be about how i’ve loved you through the years

32. i hope to be able to love you one day and realize that my heart is filled with the idea of you that i’d want nothing more than to be able to call you mine

33. i’d carve our initials on the sand on the beach just so the soil of the earth and the beginnings of all the life that stood before us knew what exactly it meant, when you loved somebody to the point of creation

34. if you wanted to go anywhere in the world - especially abroad - i’d take you. you deserve nothing more than what your heart desires and i’d always make sure to see that your wishes will be fulfilled so you will never have to wonder what it is like to be kept waiting

35. we’d go on aquarium dates!!! 🫶🫶

36. i’d make sure to hold your hand in every life and in every universe

37. we’d spend lazy days in our house just cuddling & watching sitcoms for as long as we’d want!!

38. haze…it’s no use haze. haze, we've got to have it out. i have loved you ever since i have known you haze. i couldn't help it. and - and i tried to show you and you wouldn't let me which is fine but i must make you hear now. give me an answer because i cannot go on like this any longer. i’ve worked hard to please you, and I gave up billiards and everything you didn’t like, and waited and never complained for i hoped you’d love me, though I’m not half good enough — i can’t love anyone else! …if you loved me haze, i would be a perfect saint.

39. kisses all over your face!!! i’d want the entire world to know how much ily and i’d never be afraid to hide it

40. i’d learn everything you have ever loved or enjoyed; whatever it is that makes your heart burst with joy, and memorize it to utmost perfection just so you could have somebody else to understand how it is that you want to be loved

41. i’d build a house for you, brick by brick. any way you wanted or any way you wanted to build a life together, i’d make sure to see fit to it

42. daily coffee dates!!!

43. i’d want nothing more than to just /be/ with you. to exist just knowing you are here and that i am full of the love i hope to give, would be enough for me already.

44. haze….I LOVE YOU!!!! i will stand with you between the heavens and the earth. from the moment i first saw your writing appear on the sub arlecchino tag, i have loved you desperately. i cannot breathe when you are not near. i love you, haze. my heart calls your name. i burn for you.

45. we could match everything!! matching bracelets <3 matching rings <3 matching jewelry in general <33 and trust, it would all either be hand-crafted or the most expensive things you could ever want bc i only want the best for you darling

46. i’d always have the idea of you on my mind. i don’t think anything - not even the divine forces could keep me away from knowing how much i adore you

47. baking with you!! i’d teach you all of my favorite recipes and we could bake together :) we’d make heart shaped cookies and red velvet muffins

48. WE COULD ADOPT PETS TOGETHER!!! cat moms!!! or dogs!! or any animal in general!! i’d want nothing more in life than to just spend it with you <3

49. my first novel would be about you. i’d write countless - thousands - of poems for you, haze. i’d write a collection of all the love i harbor for you in any way conceivable. you are perfection personified - a living muse - it is you i want, haze. it is only you who i would always want.

50. lastly, i’d ALSO suck on your tits any time u wanted :)

so? what do you think? how’d i do, sweetheart? :) if you ever have an answer for me, i’ll be waiting for as long as you’ll have me <3

(btw just for…clarification pls do /not/ take this way too seriously 😭😭. i am just a very over the top (hopefully will be) eng lit major who js wants to win over ur heart <3.)

FIFTY FUCKING REASONS WHAT THR FUCK YOU ACTUALLY WROTE IT OUT I saw this a lot earlier than just now but I had to coordinate backing vox lines for my band's next gig

Anyway the way I genuinely JUMPED when I saw this LIKE FUCKING HELLO......IF ANYTHING THIS IS WHAT DEDICATION LOOKS LIKE GUYS TAKE NOTES oh babe I could KISS YOU

AND THE TAYLOR SWIFT REFERENCES❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️I'M SORRY RAYNE.........

I find the lit and performance majors tend to be the ones who do this and take the entire mile which makes a lot of sense actually

In summary I am FLOORED I fear. And absolutely swooning oh my goodness 😩 AND THE AGE POINT HAHAHAHA THE MOST IMPORTANT THING OF THEM ALL 😭😭😭😭😭 IT TOOK ME OUT like how I'd let you take me out for dinner ;)))

[leonenjoyer69]

Invades your inbox

Hihihihi!!! I wanna ask, what are some songs that remind you of J+H :33??? ((/nf))

HELLO!! :33 THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK! THERE ARE SO MANY KVKSKVKSLC

OKAY, SO! First of all, *casually drops my J&H inspired playlist* all the songs I mention are on here, (WHICH ARE ALL SONGS THAT REMIND ME OF JEKYLL AND HYDE (all songs I've been recently obsessed with, someday ill go back in my liked songs lmao) AND SOME REASONS FOR SONGS ARE SUPER SPECIFIC, PLZ DON'T BULLY ME PEOPLE 🙏) so if you mayhaps wanna listen to any of the mentioned songs, they're there :3

BUT, ONTO THE SONGS AND REASONS!

Of course there's all the Will Wood songs from this list I did forever ago, but there are some other Will Wood songs I didn't put on there, like -Ish (which reminds me of Jekyll) and Cicada Days (which is literally University Lanyon and Jekyll)

Onto the various artists!

Pray To God For Your Mother by Dance Gavin Dance- BIG Jekyll song to me. "Dependent on the medicine to keep my colors vivid", " part of me wants to believe that I will not come apart at the seams, that I will learn from the cut when I bleed", "blame it all on the lamest dude, blame it all on the payments due", " didn't think id have to answer for the lies I told myself, at least not so soon" I MEAN CMON

Lights Out by Mindless Self Indulgence- for Hyde, the little adrenaline junkie.

Mr. Doctor Man by Palaye Royale- Jekyll energy, ofc. "Mr doctor man questions his hands, lost his mind, clinically fine, but he found a way to cope, needle in his throat"

Necromancin Dancin by Bear Ghost- Hyde, but instead of it being, ya know, the dead, it's him unleashing the nightmares on Jekyll. "Now we've found it, I'm astounded, every town will be surrounded by a throng of marchin' death, delicious the riches that glisten ahead!" Plus all the dancing references work bc he unleashed them at that party :3

Ghost Town -Revisited- by Trickle- Jekyll, once more. "So sick of this city's disguise, it glowing on the surface but it's drowning in lies", "Is there a reason that I'm wanting to hide when I look into the mirror just to see empty eyes?", "ghost that tried living a tired life, I'm haunted by the memories I buried inside"

Evelyn Evelyn by Evelyn Evelyn- Jekyll and Hyde, another one where basically all the lyrics are spot on lmao, but I will say I see the feminine voice as Jekyll and the Masculine one as Hyde :3

Turn The Lights Off by Tally Hall- Jekyll and Hyde

There's also a lot of Chonny Jash ones! Obviously The Ballad of Dr Jekyll and The Mr Hyde Jive, but also:

A Devil's Tricks- this one is literally just Jekyll and Hyde, idek what else to say lmao. Like, this dude sitting in lowkey self loathing while his mind tells him bad things? Not to mention the accuracy of the lyrics in general. Id list them, but then id just be pasting the whole song 💀

End the Dance- Lanyon and Rachel being the ones caring, and then switches to Jekyll. Once again don't really know what lyrics to throw in lmao

Banana Man- Jekyll and Hyde, with the whole banana thing being Jekyll becoming Hyde. "Forget all your morals and go with the flow, forget about the bad the good is all you know, and forget about the voice that's lying deep inside, the one that's screaming and screeching proclaiming wrong from right" "tomorrow morning on the plane, no banana makes you go insane. Floating back to busy town, no banana makes you want to frown"

Don't Take It Personally- EOUGHKEKOGKD another angsty Jekyll and Lanyon song.. "You can surrender your heart, but it won't be enough, don't take it personally I'm afraid of love" "if the drugs aren't in my system, then what the hell has blurred my vision?" "My wrist and my heart where you kissed pulled apart" "so just keep playing your part, and ill keep calling your bluff, don't take it personally when push comes to shove"

Push- Jekyll, ofc pushing all his friends away. "I see you trying to slowly turn your back on them, the shadow of who you were when back when you felt condemned"

I also have a bunch of other CCCC songs but idk how to explain why my mind thinks they fit, so I'm just gonna list them and idk, some might get brief explanations

Ruler of Everything- Jekyll trying to stop Hyde from going out, then Hyde literally ruining his life.

Dream (Outro to Calamity)- kinda specific to my little "Whole Jekyll" AU (as most of these are to some slight degree)

The Mind Electric- Hyde

Be Born- also Hyde

Light- Jekyll and Hyde

Good Day- Jekyll

Just Apathy- Jekyll, with Hyde as mind

Two Wuv- Jekyll

Greener- once again, Jekyll

Mucka Blucka- Jekyll and Hyde, (and my "Whole" Jekyll)

We're gonna Win- Jekyll and Hyde (except eventually getting along)

There's some on my playlist ik I didn't mention, but I think this should be good for now, LMAO, AGAIN THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK GJSKKVKD ILY GUYS 🗣️🗣️🗣️

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Somewhere Between Hello and Goodbye | Ch. 3: The Lucky Day

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of an eating disorder and depression, please read with caution as topics may be triggering.

a/n: Alexa, play Daddy's Home <3 Anywho, OC's spiralling summer was inspired by Bella's montage of passing seasons in Twilight ... I'm sorry, but I need to preface that OC will be going through it this whole season, I have already cried thrice. Also, a side question, can you guys actually play the songs I post for these chapters? Meaning, does Tumblr let yall do that or am I trippin? Because I truly think they add a lot to the overall experience. If not, please let me know, then maybe I'll just turn them into a Spotify playlist.

Sleep has become my escape. A temporary withdrawal from reality in which I live to remember everything Jungkook has forgotten. Sleeping through each passing day, I know that at least in my dreams we are still together. In my dreams, I will always find my way back to you, Koo. Even if you don’t remember it, the moon knows that we were once in love. It hears my helpless cries at night and feels every atom of my being that misses you, fearing the idea of us becoming strangers once again. 

It’s as if my happiness was erased with his departure. Holding my hand through each step of the way, he showed me the beauty in life and ended up being the one to take it all away when my fearing heart failed to reciprocate the painfully obvious love tethered between us. Now, my life is dull and pointless. How can I love someone else when every night I dream of you, Koo?

Swallowing pills to mute the sound of my heart beating for his barest touch, I’ve become lost in my own mind, haunted by everlasting thoughts. Although I thought I would be able to at least pretend to be happy for the sake of my family, it’s all become too much. Thus, it was only a matter of days, before my deteriorating behaviour sparked concern in my parents, fueling tension in the air we shared. It all started with fatigue, which then transformed into chronic sleep and in the end began to affect my eating habits. Feeling nauseous from the mere thought of food, I’ve grown to dissociate myself from it. I was hungry, but I couldn’t eat. And, as my hope slowly diminished, so did the number on the scale. 

“Mira, you have to eat,” my mom’s voice echoes in my ear as my eyes fixate on the plate of steamed broccoli in front of me. 

“I’m not hungry, I told you,” I sigh, swallowing down the lie with some water. 

“Mira, honey, please talk to us. What’s wrong?” my dad asks softly, placing his hand on top of mine. Hearing the trembles in his words, my eyes swell with tears before I shake myself out of it.

“I’m fine … just feeling a bit under the weather,”

“The sun has been at its highest peak this whole time, what’s seasonal about this?” my mom tries to remain composed as she shifts her chair closer to mine. 

“Talk to me, honey. What’s gotten into you? You were so excited to come back,” her hands caress my tangled hair as I nibble on the dead skin on my lip. 

“Mira, you’ve been silent since you came, and now you won’t even eat. Your mom and I can’t bear to see you like this,” 

“Come back home, Miraya. We can find another university here,”

“No. It’s not that. I’m fine, I swear. I just … I just need this break to end already, so I can focus on my studies again. That’ll keep my mind occupied,” I whisper softly, attempting to fake a smile as my empty gaze searches their scattering eyes. Recently, that's how most of our conversations ended. With helpless promises feeding my delusions. However, with each passing day, I come to realise that promises are nothing more than sweet lies. If it weren’t true, I wouldn’t have to find excuses for the aching feeling in my heart, but rather, melt in the overflowing passion of Jungkook’s burning love. 

Excusing myself, I throw away the cold plate of food and head back to my room, one which was once filled with laughter and a carefree sense of ambition. The same walls that watched me cry out of happiness upon receiving my acceptance letter just a few months ago are the ones that now echo my pathetic cries for help. Every inch of this room has become cold and numb, and I’m afraid that there is no more warmth in me that could fix this. 

Crouched in a fetal position as my body shivers under the floral duvet my mom gifted me as a welcome present, I dial Jimin’s phone number. It has been weeks since he moved back to Busan, but I have yet to receive any updates from him about Jungkook. In hindsight, maybe, it’s for the best, but if silence is the thing that'll save me then why do I still hold onto the smallest glimpse of hope for us? Even if it means walking across a minefield of rejected possibilities that would ultimately send me into a never-ending spiral, why do I still care?

“How is he?” I ask with hesitation. 

“Different. He’s different.” Jimin replies softly. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, he seems distant. Which is fair, I guess. But, he doesn’t quite seem to remember me,” 

“At all?” my voice shakes as I choke up. 

“Well no, he is still able to recover our memories from when we were kids, but recent events are very blurry,” Jimin goes on. 

I, was recent to Jungkook. We, were recent to him. Four months, that's how long I've known Koo, but I’ve been missing him for the last seven. Each day I daydream, reminiscing our memories, feeling the void in my heart knowing that I’ve been without him longer than I’ve been with him. Maybe, Mrs. Jeon was right. I would be lying if I said that a little part of me didn’t think that the reason for her ultimatum was purely based on a simple dislike of me. You know? Like, she didn’t see me as a good match for her son? Because, even then, her disapproval of my character would have been an easier pill to swallow than knowing that now, in Koo’s empty eyes, I’m no longer his Peaches, but a stranger. God, it hurts to even say it out loud let alone accept it. I can’t accept it, but I have to now, don’t I?

“Please take care of him for me Jiminah,” I manage to let out, wiping the tears rolling down my face. 

“I will Mira, don’t worry. I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

“See you,” I end the call, throwing my phone across the bed, my puffy eyes irritated by the brightness. 

That night was especially hard. Although my body was desperately wanting to succumb to the exhaustion, my mind wouldn't shut up. It kept replaying our memories, reminding me of the things I should have said. The words Koo never heard, but deserved to.

--

Hugging my mom, her trembling hands tighten their hold on my sweater as I take in the smell of her perfume for the last time. I missed her a lot, and the guilt of putting my parents through that torture has been eating me alive this whole summer. All they wanted was to see their daughter smile and I failed to fulfill even the simplest of their wishes. If only they knew how much I wanted to smile again. 

“Mira, I’m telling you again, we can find another university here,” my mom says with teary eyes. 

“Just say yes, and we’ll deal with all the transfer stuff, honey,” my dad joins, caressing my palms, as I let out a soft chuckle before shaking my head no. 

“That’s not fair. You guys didn’t raise a quitter,” I manage to let out, feeling my throat tighten from the build-up of emotions. 

“You’re right, we didn’t. But, even the strongest soldier needs a shoulder to cry on. Remember that we are and always will be by your side, Miraya,”

“Call us as soon as you land, love,” 

Passing through the airport security, I wave to my family my last goodbyes before heading to my gate. Am I excited to come back to Seoul? I don’t really have a choice, do I? That God-awful Nursing degree won’t finish itself, so yeah, I kind of have to go back. But, I know that school isn’t the only thing pulling me back. I know I can’t, but I still wish to see Jungkook, even from afar, it doesn’t matter. All I want now is to know that he is doing well.  

I’m not sure how, but as soon as my head rested against the seat my body shut down, falling into a much-needed sleep. I probably would have slept through the whole 12-hour flight if it weren’t for the bright beams of sunlight penetrating through my heavy eyelids. Taking a glimpse out the airplane window, I no longer saw snowy mountains but rather blossoming fields of greenery scattered within the busy cities of Korea. And, as the captain went through his ending speech, a flood of international students lined up near the exit, eager to get back into their previously established routine. It’s funny because I was sitting next to one of my cohort members from last semester, but we were both too tired to even realise. 

Nonetheless, putting my passport and ticket back into my carry on, I rolled my luggage down the escalator before a familiar voice called out my name. Searching the crowd of strangers filled with overwhelmed emotions, my eyes stop at a particular boxy smile. 

“Long time no see, Flip-flops!” Tae shouted across the hall, before waving me down to where he was standing with Jiah and Jimin who were just as excited about my arrival. Feeling my eyes swell with tears, I couldn’t help but laugh at his cute, little dance as he pulled me into a warm hug. 

“Tae, I’m certain you just don’t know my actual name,” I say with a grin, looking up at his sparkling eyes. 

“Of course, I do MJ,” he grins, rubbing the top of my head. Ha ha ha, isn’t he just a comedian? For context, my government name is Mira Jean … hence, the birth of MJ. 

“That’s enough, let us hug her too,” Jiah chuckles, opening her arms as my body virtually melts into her embrace. With tears rolling down our faces, her grip tightens around my form as she lets out a sudden gasp. 

“Mira! My goodness, why are you so small?” she asks with a concerned tone, her wide eyes scanning my body. Although, I always managed to maintain my normal weight, I guess, not eating properly for 3 months left its mark on the way I looked. As the numbers on the scale decreased, I became more and more fixated on the protrusion of my bones. I hated the feeling, but, I also couldn’t stop. Because I couldn’t get myself to eat, I relied on baggy clothes to create an illusion that would satisfy people’s perception of me. Unfortunately, I failed to fool Jiah as she saw right through the act. 

“I just stopped eating so much junk food, I’m fine. Trust me, this is a good thing Jiah, now I can finally fit into my favourite pair of jeans,” I try to laugh the pain away, caressing her hands as her furrowed eyebrows slowly release their tension. She isn’t convinced but also, doesn’t want to create a scene in public. I know that follow-up questions will be brought up along the way, but for now, my attention is focused on looking for someone who I know isn’t there. It’s silly, but before spotting Tae, a little part of me hoped to see Jungkook. To witness his sparkling doe eyes and bunny teeth, once again, like the good old times.  

“Okay, it’s settled, we are all going to my favourite Korean BBQ place,” Jimin exclaims, giving me a quick wink before grabbing both of the luggage out of my hands, and handing one to Tae. And, as Jiah intertwines her hands with mine, we exchange soft smiles exiting the airport as my skin finally feels the fresh, humid air of Seoul. Stopping mid-walk, I let out a deep sigh of relief. I hated every second of my summer, it was nothing short of pure torture but, at least, it too passed. 

“You’re good?” Tae whispers, softened gaze focused on my flushed cheeks. 

“Yeah,” I say softly, taking another deep breath as his arm caresses my shoulder. 

“He’s fine, Mira,” his words pierce through my ears as I unconsciously shoot him an alarming look. 

“You’ve heard from him?” I rush my words, anticipating his answer as my chest heaves up. 

“No, but I can feel your pain,” his tone is quieter now, eyes still searching mine. 

“I’m fine, Tae,” I mumble under my breath, lowering my head in fear of breaking down in front of them. 

“Just know that I’m always here for you, okay?” he says, pressing a soft kiss on my head before wrapping his arm around my shoulders. If only he could hear the way I’m screaming inside. The way I’m calling out for help. For someone to find hope in my hopeless state of mind. If only he knew how much I miss Jungkook. 

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Following the tradition, I will be hosting my annual house party before school beats all of our asses,” Jimin chuckles, caressing Jiah’s hand as their eyes focus on each other. Forcing down some dumpling soup into my system, I feel nauseous, but can’t risk growing Jiah's suspicion more, so I attempt to eat as little as possible without her noticing. 

“So, Mira, please come. Jungkook will be there as well,” Jimin continues with a soft smile which slowly fades upon noticing my gaze drop. Letting go of my spoon, my fingernails dig into my cold palms, as I’m back at square one. How am I supposed to face him when I can’t even handle the mere mention of his name? It’s not fair. None of them know about Mrs. Jeon’s ultimatum, and I fear that I can’t just simply tell them. So, I gulp down the pain and manage to put on another act, one that I seem to have mastered over the summer. 

“Mira, you’re okay?” Jiah asks, gently rubbing my forearm. 

“Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit jet-lagged. Sure, of course, I’ll come,” I reply with a reassuring smile, before looking at Tae. I recognize the sadness in his eyes because I see it in my own every passing minute. But, I can’t let him in. I can’t betray Mrs. Jeon’s trust, again. Even if it means that I have to betray my own heart.

--

We’ve been walking around the mall for probably 3 hours now and Jiah has yet to find something with that wow factor, meanwhile, I have already found 4 of the nearest exits. The party is set for tonight, and although I have already agreed to come, I can’t get myself to actually face the consequences. I can’t go, what was I thinking. What? Did I think everything was going to be fine once Jungkook saw me? Mira, he doesn’t remember you. 

“Jiah, you know, I really don’t think I should go tonight?” I say, slowly walking in circles as she eyes another mini dress. 

“What? Why?” she stutters, going through racks of possible options. 

“I’m just not feeling well,” I lie, fiddling with my fingers to calm down the nerves. 

“Mira, is something wrong?” Jiah stops what she’s doing before walking closer to my anxious self. 

“I’m fine, really,” I lie again. 

“You don’t look fine. You barely eat, barely sleep, barely talk to me,” she exclaims with a  tone firmer than before. 

“Then stop looking. Please, can everyone just leave me alone? I’m just tired, okay?” I burst, feeling everyone’s eyes on my distressed self. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. What do you need?” she says gently, reaching out her hands.  

“I just need space,” I whisper, crossing my arms in front of my burning chest. 

“Fine, I’ll give you some space. Please call me when you’re ready,” Jiah’s words cut deep as she walked out of the store, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The ones I’ve been trying to run away from this whole time. I can’t even get mad at her. She is only trying to help, but how can she when I keep shutting everyone out? It’s all my fault, I know. I just hope that this isn’t how it ends. I hope I don’t push everyone away, and someone sees right through the mask I put on. Because I’m so lost. I don’t know what to do or who to talk to.

Locking the door behind me I plop onto my bed before finally resting my heavy eyes. And, within minutes, I’m passed out again. I think, I've grown to become eternally tired, no matter how much I sleep, there is just no end to this fatigue. Moving restlessly, I pull the white cover over my shivering body before hearing my phone ring. 

“Ugh, what is it now?” I grunt, squinting from the screen brightness as a small gasp escapes my parted lips. It was 8 pm already. How is that possible? I swear, I just laid my head. But, no, apparently I’ve been asleep for the last 5 hours. 

“Hello?” I manage to let out. 

“Flip-flops? Where are you?” Tae screams through the loud music in the background. 

“Tae, I’m home. What happened?” 

“Mira hurry, Jiah is drunk. You need to come pick her up,” he exclaims with panic in his voice. 

“What? Where’s Jimin? Can he not drive her?” I stutter, lifting myself off of the bed before putting my hoodie back on. 

“You want him to drive under the influence? Of course, he is drunk too,” 

“Well, why can’t you drive them?” I whine, almost pleading. 

“Who said I wasn’t drunk either?” he chuckles, sending me a flying kiss through the phone. 

“Fine, I’ll be there in a bit. Keep an eye on Jiah,” I sigh before grabbing my keys and ID. 

Thankfully, Jimin’s place wasn’t that far from our dormitory so, the ride there was only 10-ish minutes. Nonetheless, I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. And, as the driver finally pulled up to the apartment complex I practically ran inside. Following the sound of loud music, I made my way through the crowd of people who clearly had a little too much fun, as the alcohol in their system could be detected from the next block. 

“Flip-flops!” Tae exclaimed with a big grin. Stopping in my tracks, my eyes diverted to Jiah, who was standing beside him with absolutely no sign of a hangover. In fact, she looked better than ever in her new mini-dress. 

“What? You lied?” I snap, eyebrows furrowing more and more with each step I take towards them. 

“How else was I supposed to get you to come?” Tae chuckles, trying to rub my head before I push his hand away. 

“Get off me,” my tone is harsh as I lower my piercing gaze, shaking my head in disbelief. 

“Oh! Mira, there you are,” I could hear Jimin’s voice getting closer before turning my flushed face. And with that, it felt like time stopped altogether. There was nothing and no one in the room except for him and I. Koo and I. Feeling my gaze soften, I choke up from the rush of emotions in my throat. 

“Hi, I’m Jungkook. It’s nice to meet you,” he says with a warm smile, reaching out his hand as if meeting me for the first time. Before replying, I take a moment to analyze his face. The one I dreamed about every night and the one that caused me so much pain. He looks the same, except, his eyes no longer sparkle like they used to. I guess, we got that in common. 

“Hi …I’m Mira,” I let out a soft smile, before reaching out my own hand. 

“Yah, Kook, you already know her, you guys were best friends,” Jimin chuckles, patting Jungkook’s back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, please forgive me. I'm still trying to piece everything back together,” Koo says, covering his mouth before shutting his eyes from embarrassment. 

Feeling my throat tighten, I quickly excuse myself, before rushing out of the packed room towards the nearest fire escape. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but why does it feel like I’m going to pass out? It’s as if all the air was knocked out of my lungs. Feeling lightheaded I hold onto the railing and close my eyes for a moment. I can’t believe it. Koo, I saw you but you didn’t see me. You saw a stranger. And, suddenly, there I was, alone again, realizing that everything I feared had come true.

Regaining my composure, I decide to walk back to the party before my eyes are met with his. 

“Not a party animal, huh?” Jungkook grins, stopping in his tracks as his arm leans against the wall. 

“It’s my day off,” I let out a small chuckle, unable to keep his eye contact. 

“So … we were best friends?” he asks softly, hands fidgeting with the chains on his belt. 

“Yeah …” I nod slightly, nibbling on my lips. 

“It’s funny because I don’t remember anything from last year. I could barely recognize my own dad for a while. Jimin helped me a lot, he basically recalled sparknotes of my past for me,” he laughs. Oh, how I missed his laugh.  

“You really don’t remember anything?” I finally look up, searching his scattering eyes. 

“No, not one bit,” his muffled words are interrupted by the growling sound coming from my stomach, as I let out an awkward smile. 

“Oh, are you hungry?” he grins, bunny teeth on full display, as my gaze softens again. 

“No, no, no, I’m fine. I think I’m gonna head home now,” I shake my hands, zipping my hoodie before attempting to walk past him. 

“No, it’s fine, I’ll drive. I’m starving as well,” Jungkook assures, gently pulling onto the fabric as my heart sinks to my feet.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I agreed. I couldn’t say no to Koo. Not, after all the sleepless nights I’ve spent missing his mere presence. And, as we entered the nearest restaurant, everything felt real. He felt real. Even if he couldn’t feel it, my heart was beating for the both of us. For our first hellos, last goodbyes and everything in between. Just for tonight, I wanted to pretend like nothing happened. 

“Oh, look, Mira, they have a special deal on shrimp dumplings, do you like them?” his voice, brings me back to reality as I mute the thoughts running through my head. 

“Yeah, my mom made them for me all the time when I was little,” I smile. 

“Then, I guess it’s your lucky day,” he chuckles with a satisfied grin, before calling one of the waiters. 

“I guess, it is,” I say softly, feeling my throat tighten as I struggle to swallow the lie. Searching his naive eyes my own swell with tears while my body shifts restlessly in the seat. Desperately wanting to cave into the emotions, my mind is haunted by the thoughts of Mrs. Jeon’s letter. And, as I close my eyes for a moment, all I can see are the painful reminders of our enforced distance. Don’t call … Don’t write … Don’t interact. Yet, here we are, here you are, Koo. Live in the flesh, separated by a table and the forgotten story of our past. So close, yet so far that it physically hurts. To him, I’m just another piece of the puzzle that would fill the void in his memories. But, to me, he is the only piece that could make me whole again. 

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[themeatpit37]

Sunny Day Jack Playlists!

Hi hi! I have been crafting up some playlists for Something’s Wrong With Sunny Day Jack and a few of my AUs for the series! I can explain certain songs if requested! Enjoy!

❤️💛💙Sunny Day Jack❤️💛💙

Toy Soldiers - Mariana’s trench

Christmas Kids - Roar

Sweet friend - The Orion Experience

Tonight you belong to me - Patience and Prudence

Puppy Princess- Hot freaks

Still in love with you - Electrovelvet

Digital Affection - The Orion Experience

Everybody loves somebody - Dean Martin

I wanna be your boyfriend - Hot Freaks

KG - Nik Makino

Rollercoaster - The Orion Experience

Can’t smile without you - Barry manilow

Dream - The pied piper

We’ll meet again - Vera Lynn

Banana Pancakes - Jack Johnson

Obsession - Toywave

I Can Read Your Mind - The Orion Experience

Haunt - Bear Ghost

Somethin’ Stupid - Frank Sinatra

Sweet Tangerine- The Hush Sound

🩵💜Jack From The Future AU💜🩵

Messages from the Stars - The RAH Band

Hello World - Louie Zong

Pale Machine - Bo En

Magical Girl - Sushi Killer

I’m Poppy - Poppy

Everyday - Bo En

Time Machine - Tally Hall

Sleepy Eyes Again - TQBF

Daisy Bell - The First Computer To Sing

Credits EX - Fumes

編號 89757 - 林俊傑 JJ Lin

Wanderlust - TQBF

Homage - Mild High Club

Digital Affection - The Orion Experience

S.T.A.R. Child - The Orion Experience

SUICIDE HOUR - COCAINEJESUS

❤️‍🩹🖤Slasher AU 🖤❤️‍🩹

Eat you - Caravan of Thieves

Tear You Apart - SHE WANTS REVENGE

Misery Meat - Sodikken

Kitchen Fork - Jack Conte

The Horrors of Our Love - Ludo

Secrets of Wisteria - Steampianist

People Eater - Sodikken

Love Me Dead - Ludo

Under my skin - Jukebox The Ghost

Closer - Nine Inch Nails

Animal - Chase Helfoder

Eat - Jack Conte

64 little white things - Cake Bake Betty

IN MY MOUTH - Black Dresses

Teddy Bear - Melanie Martinez

Lovesick Cannibal - Femtanyl

Gomenne Gomenne - Kikuo

Gingerbread Man - Melanie Martinez

Come Little Children - Erutan

Hatefuck- The Bravery

Bloody Nose - Jack Conte