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dreamwatch · 1 month ago

Text

Part 1 Part 2 AO3

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Black Friday pop-up event.

Prompts: Black, Friday, "I'm not standing in line for that", Leftovers, Trampled, One Day Only, "I am giving thanks."

Yeah... all of them, and you're right, it was a stupid idea.

Word Count: Pt3 - 4954 | Rating: M | CW: Past suicidal ideation (very subtle, blink and you'll miss, I'm just being cautious) | POV: Mixed - Pt1 Eddie, Pt2 Steve, Pt3 Eddie | Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | Tags: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Gareth CC, Jeff CC, Matt CC, Wayne Munson, disabled Eddie Munson, pining, protective Gareth, protective Steve, kissing, guitars, reference to canon typical injuries, references to blood and injury - please let me know if you think I've missed any.

Part 3

For the first time in years they get lucky; Wayne gets Christmas off. He says it’s because he worked Thanksgiving, but Eddie overheard phone calls that maybe he shouldn’t have been listening to, and he has a suspicion it’s more to do with the fact that for a while there Wayne was facing all his future Christmas’s alone and this one’s kind of special.

They’re watching the TV, eating too much, and sipping on beers. It’s normal. Just regular Christmas Eve in the Munson home, but the weight of it, the what ifs, hang in the air. It’s not oppressive, or sad, it’s just … there. It should be a sign, probably, that he and Wayne need to have a good talk, maybe work through a few things. But Wayne isn’t a talker, doesn’t understand why anyone would go to a shrink, he buries his shit deep. When Eddie thinks of his father, he was much the same. It probably shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone, then, that Eddie likes to keep things locked away, hidden from public view.

He sips on his beer and he eats his cookies, and he smiles at Wayne and Wayne smiles back. They know what they have. It’s enough.

They don’t get visitors often and he can’t think of a single Christmas where they’ve had one that wasn’t a cop, so when they hear the knock at the door they both look at each other like deer in the headlights. The bad knocks, the ones that end up with shit on the doorstep, or notes on the door telling him to move away if he knows what’s good for him, they don’t come as often as they used to. The last one was around Halloween, which in some regards he kind of expected; every town has a boogeyman and sadly he’s it for Hawkins. They keep a baseball bat behind the door where most people store their umbrellas.

Wayne answers the door, fist twitching, but then Steve is wandering into his home, flakes of snow on his eyelashes and in his hair.

“Hey sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you, I just wanted to give you these.”

He hands over two badly wrapped gifts, something bottle shaped for Wayne who seems a little shellshocked at getting anything, and a small navy blue package for Eddie, with way too much tape holding it together. And he knows gifts aren’t a quid pro quo kind of situation, but he’s honestly been back to back with appointments and just life in general, and he doesn’t get out as much as he would like, seeing as he still can’t drive, so his heart sinks a little at it.

“Shit, I didn’t— sorry, I was just so caught up—”

“It’s nothing. Honestly, it’s just something I saw that reminded me of you.”

His voice peters out as he says it, and Eddie feels that little kick, the little squeeze in his core, but he just can’t help it. Reminded me of you. Like he’s important enough for Steve to think about. And isn’t that something?

Reminded me of you.

It’s a little fan, breathing life onto a flame that he just can’t afford to have lit any further. Tamping it down is getting harder and harder.

They talk for a few minutes, but it doesn’t matter how many cookies or beers or sodas Wayne offers him, he declines them all with a sorry, got to get back. He gets up to leave and Eddie walks him to the door.

“What are you doing on Friday?” Steve asks.

“Hmm, I’ll have to check with my secretary, my diary gets booked up so far in advance these days.”

“He ain’t doin’ nothin’!” Wayne shouts. “And close the goddamn door, you’re letting all the heat out.”

“Jesus Christ, old man, keep it down. No fucking privacy here. Well, as you heard, I ain’t doin’ nothin’ apparently.”

It’s a pretty accurate impression, which he knows Wayne heard and he’ll be paying for that for a while. But he made Steve laugh, so it’s entirely worth it.

“Cool. I’ll pick you up at four, be dressed and ready to go.” Steve hops down the porch steps back to the car.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll find out on Friday. Get inside before you freeze to death, Munson. Merry Christmas!”

“I’m going, I’m going, why is everyone such a nag? Merry Christmas, Steve!”

He should wait until tomorrow, but the little blue package in his hand feels like it’s burning him. He sits on his bed and tries his best to peel each piece of tape carefully, but the fucking thing is covered in it so he ends up ripping the paper off anyway.

The guitar strap is neatly folded, blue embroidery singing against the black leather. Guitar picks slip onto the floor at his feet.

His breath falters, trapped in his throat, and it’s several long seconds before he takes a deep breath again.

His guitars were some of the only things saved from the old trailer. Wayne told him how lucky he was to be at the back, how most of his precious possessions survived. He even hung the Warlock on the wall of his new bedroom. It felt like he was being watched, like an eye following him around the room. It felt like a living thing in a way that scared him.

And it wasn’t just the thing of it, the object that got carried into battle - even if that one was a version from another world - it was the way it sounded in his hands now. He tried to play it just once, and once was enough to know it would never happen again. The shake in his hand was frightening, the lack of control, the dissonant noises that rang from it. He chalked it up to some weird phobia, a reaction to what the guitar meant now. But then he picked up his old Fender knock off and it wasn’t any better, and it hit him that it was gone, everything he had practiced, everything he worked for, it was gone just like that. Now he had a shaky left hand and no grip strength and moving his fingers along the fretboard was an effort not an instinct.

It was over. And he never wanted to see that fucking guitar again.

But now he’s sitting here with a beautiful guitar strap in his lap and guitar picks all over the floor, things that Steve chose for him, because they reminded me of you, and it’s painful in a different way, in a way that he can’t examine right now because he just doesn’t have the strength for it in the middle of a Christmas he was never meant to see. He wraps them both back up in the crumpled blue paper and puts them in the bottom drawer of his dresser, pulling a pair of sweats over the top.

Christmas is… emotional. But like in that quiet ‘we’re not gonna talk about it’ way that he and Wayne have perfected over the years. There are pats on the head, hair ruffles, side ways glances when Wayne thinks he’s not looking. Weighty, but not unpleasant. It’s a lot to know you’re loved so deeply, a lot to know how difficult this would have been for Wayne if Eddie hadn’t been here.

(There’s things about that day, about the decisions he made, that he tries to keep hidden from everyone, himself included when he can manage it. They haunt him at night when he’s alone in the house by himself and has time to dwell on them, but when Wayne rests a calloused hand on his head, it’s almost like forgiveness. He hopes Wayne doesn’t know. He hopes none of them know.)

When Friday swings around he feels entirely too much like a kid in a candy store, and if Wayne notices his slightly hyper demeanour when Steve pulls up outside, he at least has the grace not to mention it.

Steve doesn’t open the car door for him. Anyone looking on, watching Eddie potter down his steps unevenly, crutch in hand, would read that as rude. Eddie reads it as trust, as being listened to, and most importantly being heard. Other people struggled with that, so many of his friends, fuck, even Wayne, wanting to step in whenever they thought he needed a hand, but never really hearing him when he said he was fine. And look, he’s a stubborn fuck, he knows this, and he hasn’t made this easy on people, he could have - should have - asked for help at times, but having one person in his corner that listened to him made him feel less powerless. That it was Steve made his heart sing.

Steve still won’t tell him where he’s going, so they do what they usually do, argue over the radio while Eddie tosses tapes around in the glove compartment. Eddie doesn’t get out often, mostly of his own choosing, so these moments mean a lot to him. Painfully normal.

Painfully normal with Steve by his side.

He starts to nod off to the sound of Cyndi Lauper coming through the speakers, but he catches sight of the sign to Indy and it wakes him up with a start. He glances at Steve who definitely knows he’s being stared at because the little smirk on his face grows. Something in Eddie grows with it.

Twenty minutes later they’re pulling up outside Sandy’s.

“Holy shit,” he says, almost under his breath. “I haven’t been here since… fuck, last year I think? How did you find this place?”

Steve unbuckles his seat belt, that smirk firmly still in place. “Friend of a friend.”

And then, because Eddie’s world hasn’t spun out from beneath him enough this year —

Steve Harrington winks at him.

And it’s not a wink like, sports and jocks and rough-housing with the kids wink, it’s a wink. It’s loaded. It takes up space in the car. It passes between them, a little bird Steve set off into the air for Eddie to catch with careful hands.

He doesn’t know what’s happening, but it feels like it will collapse around him if he asks, his little tower of cards that just got to the second level will flutter to the ground. So he laughs it off, calls him a dork and then gets out of the car.

They take a booth at the back, sliding in, face to face.

“Have you eaten here before?” Eddie asks.

“Just the once.” And there’s that smile again, and that little thing in him that keeps so deeply hidden continues to unfurl.

The waitress approaches to take their order, and Steve gets in before Eddie can.

“Two chilli dogs with extra onions, two sides of cheese fries, and two peanut butter malts, please.”

He didn’t even look at the menu.

The moment she walks away, Eddie leans forward.

“How do you know my order?” He’s a little rude with it, though he doesn’t mean to be, and for the first time Steve looks unsure.

“I told you, a friend of a friend.”

“Gareth. You can say Gareth, Steve. I’m not stupid.”

Steve picks up the salt shaker, rolling it idly between his hands. “I just wanted to do something nice, for Christmas, you know? Is that so bad?”

“You did something nice for Thanksgiving.”

“Uh, no, I tried to do something nice. Consider this a do-over.”

Eddie does his best, tries not to read too much into the fact that Steve knew his order, or that he asked Gareth for help, or that he ordered the same thing, or that he spends the entire time practically moaning as he slots the hotdog into his mouth in a way that honestly looks filthy as fuck, but he can’t possibly know what he’s doing, or what he’s doing to Eddie specifically.

He does his best. But a boy can dream.

Steve pays, which just makes it all so much worse. Is this how they feel? All those girls from Hawkins High? Is this what it means to be wooed by the Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington?

They get back to the car, and Steve starts her up, the cool air from the vents turning warmer as they sit there.

“That was… that was really cool, actually.”

“Yeah, those hot dogs were awesome. Seriously we need a place like that in Hawkins.”

Eddie shakes his head. “No I mean… you bringing me here. It’s my favourite place to eat. It was a really nice thing to do. Thank you.”

Steve looks delighted. “Good, I’m glad you liked it. And hey, it wasn’t burnt this time, right?”

Steve laughs and Eddie tries to but he can’t, is the thing. It’s all kind of caught up in him, like a tangle. He’s confused, and warm, and happy and a little sad, actually. He surrounds himself with things he wants and can’t have. Sometimes he can live with that, but sometimes it hurts.

“Thank you. Like, honestly,” and he let’s a puff of air out of him, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. Blowing the sting from them. “I haven’t been there since my birthday last year. It was kind of a tradition, you know? I didn’t get to go this year, so… yeah, thanks.” And he means it. Truly and honestly means it.

Steve taps the steering room, out of rhythm to the song on the radio, a nervous little tick Eddie’s noticed before.

“So, there’s one more thing. Uh, one more place I want to take you. If that’s okay?”

He looks so earnestly at Eddie, like he’s honestly scared Eddie will say no to him when right now Eddie doesn’t think he would deny him a fucking thing.

“Yeah, of course. Lead the way, sire.”

They don’t drive far, but they move into the suburbs on the other side of town and into a little neighbourhood Eddie recognises, before pulling up somewhere Eddie knows very well indeed.

Wayne was the first one to bring him to Rudy’s Music Shop back on his twelfth birthday, when he got that old Fender knock-off from Gary at the plant. It needed strings, and it buzzed like crazy and Rudy’s was cheaper than the big store in the middle of the city, so they visited and Rudy fixed it up for him, almost as good as new. And when he was finally ready for his first serious guitar, something metal that he would take the world by storm with, it was Rudy’s that he went to. He couldn’t afford a lot, but the Warlock was a trade in, barely used but with a couple of big chips in the paintwork. Rudy cut him a deal, and Eddie spent three bucks on red nail polish and you could never tell they were there unless you knew where to look.

“Steve… ?”

“I um… Wayne told me about this place. I thought it would be nice to visit. It’s been a while, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers.

Steve taps him across the chest. “Come on.”

This time he does let Steve help him out of the car, the long journey and the cold starting to wear him down. They walk over to the window, the red neon sign glowing bright into the dark street, the guitars stand like soldiers under it, and he feels the pang of want. It feels like the twist of a knife.

“You wanna go in?”

Eddie’s not sure where it comes from. But something in him stirs, something that feels like bravery, and he finds himself wanting just that. But…

“It’s closed,” he says, trying his best to keep the disappointment from his voice. “But thanks for bringing me here, it was a really lovely thought, you know.”

Steve walks right past him to the door and knocks three times, and in a moment Rudy is there, unlocking the door and ushering them in.

“It’s good to see you, kid,” says Rudy.

“Uh— shit.” He starts laughing, it bubbles up from nowhere and he feels a little delirious with it. “It’s good to see you too. Sorry, it’s just a lot, being here.” He gestures around the store at the walls of instruments.

Rudy laughs softly, “Yeah, I bet.” Then he looks at Steve and says “You got half an hour then I got to lock up. You want the, uh—” he gestures over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Uh, give us ten minutes?”

Rudy nods before heading out back, pulling the office door closed behind him. Then it’s just them, and Eddie’s head is spinning like a fucking top.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Promise not to get mad?”

Eddie’s eyes narrow. “Why would I get mad?”

“I thought maybe it was time to get that new guitar.”

Eddie tips his head back, looking up at the ceiling painted with famous musicians. He stares B.B. King straight in the eye. B.B. Stares right back at him.

“Steve, I just… I can’t.” He blows out a huge puff of air, and it feels like he’s emptying his heart as much as he’s emptying his lungs.

“I know you sold the Warlock. And I get why.”

“No, you don’t!”

“Okay, so explain it to me.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation.”

“You can’t run from everything, man.”

It’s like a slap and Eddie turns on him. “Oh fuck you!”

All of it’s falling to shit, all the good, summer, the trips to the drive through, the summer spent in the Harrington’s pool. Cold nights tucked up against each other watching horror movies. A burnt Thanksgiving dinner.

A guitar strap.

Steve reaches out to him, squeezing his wrist. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just. You’re so fucking talented, Eddie, and I hate that you lost the thing you loved the most. You deserve better than that.”

Eddie scoffs. “How do you know I was talented? You’ve never heard me play.”

Steve smiles softly and digs into the pocket of his coat, pulling out a cassette before waving it gently in the air.

“Borrowed it from Wayne. Blues, huh?” And there’s that smirk again, like he’s won something, and fuck it. He has.

“Fucker.”

“Me or Wayne?”

“Both of you.”

There’s a pause, Steve opening and closing his mouth like he's working out what to say next.

“Why did you lie? Why did you sell it?”

It’s not an accusation, just an honest question. If it were anyone else Eddie would fob them off. But it’s Steve, and he deserves so much more than that.

“Because it wasn’t the same, Steve. I couldn’t look at that fucking guitar, I didn’t want it anywhere near me, man. It just didn’t sound the same anymore. I didn’t sound the same. And it just reminded me of everything, every time I looked at it, Chrissy, and Patrick, and the bats--” He heaves in a breath. “Do you know what it’s like when your dreams are stolen? For them to just disappear overnight?”

Steve’s eyes drop to the floor, but he replies with a nod.

“I had a basketball scholarship lined up. Until Billy smashed a plate into my head, anyway. It’s not the same, I know, but I do get it.”

Billy was a bastard, and Eddie never liked him, and it’s awful but all he can think right at this moment is that he’s glad he’s dead.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that,” he says softly.

Steve shrugs. “Shit happens. It’s what you do after that matters. Come on,” Steve takes him by the hand, locking their fingers together, and Eddie’s breath slams to a stop as Steve leads him to a stool and amp. “Rudy said you can play whatever you want. Just point and I’ll grab them. But there is one, I kind of put aside for you. If you want to try it?”

Alternate dimensions haven’t got a thing on what ever the fuck is going on here today. He barely nods before Steve runs off like an excited puppy. He returns a moment later, carefully holding a guitar.

“So, I know this isn't like, metal, or whatever. But Rudy said it’s got a really nice tone? And it’s a lot lighter than your Warlock, so I thought… “ He coughs, suddenly sounds embarrassed, “I just thought it would be easier for you.”

He recognises it immediately; a Gibson ES-335. But not sunburst or cherry red, like everyone knows it for, but in a washed out sky blue. It’s scratched, the paintwork chipped in places, but it’s clean and otherwise clearly well looked after.

“It’s beautiful.”

Steve’s eyes light up. “Yeah?”

Tentatively, Eddie reaches out for it and Steve hands it over almost reverently. It is lighter than the Warlock, though it’s bigger. But the rounded cut outs make it fit him better, it rests comfortably on his thigh. He runs his fingers up the neck, feels the comforting grab of the frets under his finger. The loss of it all hits him so suddenly he feels himself fall back, like a gust of wind carrying his grief slammed into him.

“Yeah,” he manages to say, but his throat is closed tight and theres no way Steve doesn’t hear it.

Steve kneels in front of him, places his hands on Eddie’s knees and a spark fires through him.

“Play me something.”

“What?”

Steve beams at him. “Anything you want.”

He feels a tear slip over his lashes, and he watches as Steve traces it down his cheek, wiping it away before it falls from his chin.

“No tears on the guitar,” Steve whispers. “Not good for the paint.”

“Fucker,” Eddie laughs wetly. “Plug me in.”

Steve sets him up, with a little direction, then sits on the floor in front of him, legs crossed, like a toddler at story time, his attention undivided.

It’s rough, the first chords are chunky and stilted, he doesn’t have the strength or the dexterity that he once had, certainly not the speed. But as his hands warm up, as he falls into it, the rhythm, the vibration of the strings under his fingers, the callouses softened from all these months without steel underneath them. His eyes slip closed and he plays by feel again, and without thinking he starts striking chords, the D, into the F sharp, G into the A. He smiles to himself, before opening his eyes, and he and Steve lock eyes, sitting in the dark in Rudy’s, just the neon red lighting them up.

You’re the one I’ve waited for

He sings it openly, part challenge, part declaration.

I need your love more and more

His breath is knocked from him as Steve rushes forward, hands on Eddie’s cheeks pulling him in, his lips pressed deeply into Eddie’s. Eddie grips the guitar in one hand, covering Steve’s hand with the other, holding it there. When the shock passes, he kisses back just as fiercely, lips finding one another in the red glow.

Steve breaks apart first, breathless with giggles before leaning in for another quick peck. And then another. And then he takes the guitar from Eddie, gently places it on a stand before standing in between his legs, his hands on Eddie’s face, tipping him back, before leaning down to kiss him again, slower this time, more softly.

“I’ve thought about this for so fucking long.”

A sound escapes Eddie, air rushing out after a punch to the solar plexus, to a place deep within him.

“You have no idea, man,” is all Eddie can manage in response.

There’s a cough from behind them and they split apart as fast as they came together.

“So, uh, we taking that guitar, boys?”

“Yes,” answers Steve, at the same time Eddie says “I don’t know.”

“Do you like the guitar?” Steve asks.

“I love it.”

“Good. Then we’re taking it.”

Rudy carefully places it into a case and hands it over before letting them out onto the street, and wishing Eddie well.

“But I haven’t paid—”

“He’s all paid for kid. All yours.”

Eddie is dazed when he makes it back to the car. He looks at the little store front in the dark, the neon fighting the orange glow of the street lamps for the honour of lighting the sidewalk. It was a minute ago but it seems like a dream already, like a spell was broken the moment they walked back onto the street, and he’s not sure it happened. It’s too ridiculous to imagine that it happened.

Steve climbs in beside him, looking every bit the King of Hawkins High, smug bastard.

“What just happened?” Eddie says to no one.

He catches movement beside him, Steve pushing his fingers through his hair, checking himself out in the rearview mirror before repositioning it.

“Well, I took you to dinner, then I brought you to your favourite guitar store, bought you a beautiful guitar and basically took you out on the best date you’ve ever had.”

Eddie nods absently. “Oh, is that what happened?”

Steve looks like he’s actually thinking about. “Yeah, pretty much,” and he winks again, like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to Eddie now.

They drive back to Hawkins, Steve stretching his hand out to hold Eddie’s every time they come to a stop light, Eddie squeezing it tightly like it might disappear, like it might be the last time he gets the chance.

They pull up outside Eddie’s little house, just as snow starts to flutter to the ground again. Steve leaves the car running, the heat blowing out onto their faces. Eddie feels a little flushed. He’s not entirely sure its the heater though.

“So…” he starts.

Steve throws his arm across the back of Eddie’s seat. “So.”

“Did that really happen? Because, I was dead for about five minutes back in March and they said there could be lasting consequences from the oxygen deprivation and—”

Steve shuts him up with a kiss and not for the first time Eddie’s pleased they moved to a private little house where they can’t be seen from the street.

“Firstly,” Steve says when he let’s go, “Don’t ever joke about that.” Steve’s cradles his jaw, thumb stroking at the raised pink of the scar that sits there. “But yes, it happened. All of it. Maybe I was a little slow off the blocks. Let’s just give thanks for me getting there sooner rather than later, huh?”

Eddie can’t help the bubble of laughter. “Oh, I am giving thanks, trust me, big boy.”

Steve’s eyes narrow as he leans in for another kiss.

“Oh we are totally circling back to that,” Eddie says gleefully.

“Shut up.”

They lean in again, and this time he wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, pulling him close, his lips parting ready to kiss, until a loud knock knock knock on the window has them flying apart.

Wayne peers in at the two of them as Eddie rolls the window down.

“Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of us.”

“This strikes me as something you might want to do inside.”

Steve combs his hands through his hair, nodding. “Yep, absolutely. We will definitely do that.”

“Not tonight though,” Wayne adds, and honestly, Eddie loves this guy, he does, but fuck does he pick his moments to get parental. “Goodnight Steve.” And then, because Eddie’s suffering is his greatest pleasure, he smirks and says. “Hope it all went well.”

“Would you just leave, please, now. Thank you.”

They both watch Wayne walk back up the porch steps, a sly smile on his face.

“Fucker.” Eddie sighs into one more kiss, Steve meeting him across the console. “I should go.”

Steve hops out to grab the guitar - his guitar, and that’s going to take a while to get his head around - and carries it up to the porch for him.

“Call you tomorrow?”

“Please,” Eddie says, feeling for all the world like a fucking schoolgirl with a crush. So, this is what it’s like?

Steve gives him that stupid little wave and smiles at him, but as he’s about to get in the car he calls back.

“Hey, what was that song you were singing?”

Eddie laughs.

“Oh, uh, Love Hungry Man. AC/DC.”

“Holy shit,” Steve laughs. “Don’t hold back, Munson.”

He shrugs, delighted. “What can I say? Speak your truth, right?”

Eddie stands in the cold as he watches Steve drive off into the night. Flakes of snow begin to fall again, shimmering in the amber street lighting. He sticks his tongue out to catch them. He feels giddy, kind of light headed and for a second he thinks he’s over done it today, he should get in, get his pills and sleep.

It takes a moment for it all to filter through, for his brain and his body to catch up with one another, but eventually it hits him; he’s happy. He’s never let himself want before, not big things, not things he can’t buy. He’s spent years hiding big parts of who he is, even from his closest friends, with only the dream of moving to a city to give him real hope for a connection with someone. For love.

And then Steve Harrington, brave, smart, wonderful Steve Harrington, knocks the wind right out of him, turns his world upside down, the good kind this time, and now not only does Eddie get to want, he gets to have.

He sticks his tongue out again to catch a last, fat flake of snow, and then carries his guitar inside.

He has a lot of practicing to do.

****

Holy shit. Full disclosure, I wrote most of this today and I'm sleep deprived and I can't bear to think how many typos and errors there are in this, but I'm trying to hit a deadline. Feel free to let me know what I fucked up. 😂

#corrodedcoffinfest: black friday #corrodedcoffinfest #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #wayne munson #cw sui ideation

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chamiryokuroi · 2 years ago

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My thoughts on Tim Drake: Robin #10 heavy spoilers under the cut

First of all got to say it wasn’t a bad ending if we consider they had to wrap up this arc in such a short amount of time, gotta give it to Meghan she managed to figure out a way to answer as many questions as possible and give us a relatively good ending for a series that I feel was canceled with no reason.

You can definitely feel that the story was planned to be done in more issues, the building blocks are all there for an amazing arc and it is sad we had to condense it all in one issue.

Now into a more in depth analysis of the comic of my favorite parts.

The Labyrinth was such and interesting point I wish we could have seen more of, specially with the fact this is the cult if Dionysus.

I absolutely adore the fact that Bernard is fully aware of Tim’s identiry because we get such funny interactions like this where Pie honestly thinks Tim is cheating on Bernard with Robin, and that panel of Bernard laughing because of that is one of my favorites for sure, boy is having so much fun, as he should.

Now in a more serious tone, this two panels tells us so much of how Tim feels, how insecure he is of his own place, not only on his family, but in the world as a whole. That second panel specifically where we see Bernard having fun while Tim is just on the bg, knowing how hard it must be for Tim to wrap his head around his sexuality even now, a year after coming out and starting dating Bernard, this feels realistic, sometimes when you come out later in life it feels as if you do not fit exactly with the community, and it can be hard to find your place.

If I had a nickel for every time a creepy cult tried to recruit Tim into their ranks I would have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it is weird that it keeps happening.

This is honestly another point that feels like it was meant to be explored for longer before the cancelation notice came. At least it gives us an explanation of why Kate was acting the way she was, it took me a while to get it but basically after Tim saved Bernard from the cult back in Urban Legends Kate went around hunting down those that managed to escape, one of them being the son of this man that appears to be the leader of the cult, the son then took his own life and Kate was taken into the labyrinth, were we know Tim was being pumped with some hallucinogen gas of some sort, depending on how long she was on the labyrinth before managing to escape that might explain her memory loss, again this is all theorizing with what we are given since there wasn’t much space for it to be explain as it should.

And now we go back to Bernard who is looking around for Tim, going to all the people that knew him as Robin, and then those words “Tim takes care of everyone… but sometimes he needs someone to take care of him” hits me straight on the feels, Bernard is such a supportive boyfriend, he is definitely what Tim needs, someone that is there for him, not only for Tim, but also Robin.

Also the fact that Bernard is making his own homemade bat-signal with his hands is just adorable to me. Boy could had probably drove to Bruce’s house, but he doesn’t need Bruce’s help right now, he needs Batman.

And of course Batman responds. Bruce why were you following Bernard? Anyways, yet another great speech from Bernard “I thought you might be a ghost. Or you weren’t real. But the truth is you look sort of normal. Like regular-people normal.” Leave it to Bernard to understand exactly what Batman is, just a normal man trying to help as best as he can.

And then he says Tim needs help, not Robin, Tim. This is just Bernard out right telling Bruce “I know, and I don’t care, because Tim is in problem and you got to find him”

And then we get the best thing, Bernard, and Tim’s friends and family, rushing in to save him, just as he was losing hope of managing to leave the labyrinth alive. Absolutely in love with Bernard’s long ass coat.

And then we get to my favorite page. The uncertainty if it is really him or another hallucination, the confirmation that it is him, it is Bernard, here to save Tim. The hug, the way Tim is holding Bernard’s face, the only thing that would had made this better would had been a kiss.

And then we get to the ending, not much to say here, I just love these two pages, Tim just finally realizing he doesn’t need to be anyone else, that he can be himself and that he is right where he belong, and that he can be happy with that. The best ending we could have hope for with what we were allowed to have.

There are obviously many questions left unanswered.

What was exactly the Cult of Dionysus? Where did it came from?

What’s going on with Bernard’s parents?

What’s up with Moriarty? Who was his boss? What was his deal with Robin/Tim??

I am sad TD:R ended the way it did, had it been given the time to develop I feel it would had gotten better. But I am glad we managed to get as much as we did, now we just have to wait and see what will DC do now with Tim, and if Bernard will stay relevant or will they brush him under the rug.

#dc #tim drake #bernard dowd #timbern #this makes no sense but I just had to speak out #td:r spoilers #spoilers

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l223m0nade · 1 month ago

Text

Bees (a stucky au snzfic)

ok ok

so I saw this random thing on a tumblr post:

and it got its Stucky-idea hooks so deep in my brain. It just did. And the thing is my deepest inspo is honestly in the land of snz. (This fic kind of ends abruptly sorry but i want to do more and it'll probably end up on Ao3 w like a M or E rating 😳🫣 when and if that happens i'll link to it)

Stucky au, no powers, age gap, what I'm picturing in my head goes less with the words "silver fox Steve" and more with the words "dorky Dilf Steve" like 2012 Cap fashion with current Chris Evans face? in..a good way? and longhair early-20s burnout Bucky. I have some backstory headcanons that are just hinted at here, hopefully it's tantalizing rather than confusing.

anyway have 11.5k words of this and encourage me to write more bc i have fallen in love with these particular boyz. Some light existential angst but mainly idiots pining aka the sweetest sauce

~Fic~

Sam isn’t sure how much longer he can allow this to go on. His barback and the new semi-regular square dude are once again being all awkwardly flirty while pretending they’re not, like two sad lonely white...ducks, who never learned a mating dance and have zero game.

At least Square Dude has an excuse: he’s the most obvious newly-divorced newly-out family-type guy Sam’s ever seen. He’s clean-cut, with a ridiculously handsome square jaw, wearing well-made but unstylish button-down shirts and pants that make him look like he belongs in a Norman Rockwell painting. He started coming in about two months ago, quiet, friendly when ordering his one or two beers of the evening, and firmly shy when it comes to the inevitable overtures sent his way. It doesn’t take a genius to see that this is him dipping a first toe into the pool: coming to a relatively quiet gay bar, just to sit and watch men talk to each other and let the whole notion sink in.

By now most guys would’ve found someone to spread their wings with or gone elsewhere to find em, but Square Dude, whose name is Steve, seems content to talk to the guy who pours his beer about whatever DIY project Bucky is pulling questions out of his ass about.

The crush is painfully obvious, and suburban closeted Steve can’t be blamed for having no deal-sealing abilities, but Bucky has no such excuse. Sam has watched him pull stiff-backed business bros in five minutes flat when the mood struck him, with his big blue puppy eyes and his dark wicked smirk and long lean slouch. But with Steve all he appears capable of doing is asking him questions about crown molding as though those words mean anything to him while gazing at him like he’s beaming the words You could fix me directly into Steve’s skull. Steve, for his part, just doesn’t seem to be able to look anywhere other than Bucky.

As usual, anyone that tries to strike anything beyond a friendly conversation is kindly but firmly rebuffed. “He’s not ready for that yet,” Bucky had insisted with unnecessary defensiveness when Sam implied it was time for the new guy to move from spectating to participating in the relatively mellow flirting and hookup scene the bar played host to most evenings. “People go at their own pace.”

“The only pace he’s going at is towards you,” Sam smirked. Bucky glowered at his implication. “You gotta make it weird. He comes here to, like, practice. I’m part of that, in a chill, friendly way.” He shrugged and looked at the glass he was drying. “When he is ready, it’s not gonna be for me, it’s gonna be for someone actually in his league, like a...hot college professor, or something.” Sam had rolled his eyes and resolved to stop trying to help Bucky Barnes flail around in his mess of a love life anymore, for the hundredth or so time.

Tonight is busy enough that Sam can mostly be distracted from this bad sitcom, and not so busy that he has to yell at Barnes for being distracted. Still, there are a couple empties on tables in the Steve-less side of the bar, and after finishing the drinks for the people in front of him he turns, catching Bucky’s voice, in a tone of delight he uses when speaking with only one person, saying “Wait. Seriously? Bees?”

“Yeah!” Steve responds, equally puppyish. He’s tall and broad, sandy hair and beard just beginning to show a hint of salt-and-pepper. He looks like anyone’s fantasy fireman or lumberjack, at least in the context of a place like this. He also exudes genuine sweetness and vulnerability despite his intimidating muscled height.

Bucky Barnes, Sam’s barback and old friend, leans against the bar doing the helpless-goober-with-a-crush stare, a look on his face like Steve just announced he was a Nobel Prize winner. “No way. How do you keep bees? Just as, what, a casual hobby? That’s, like, a whole thing, you can’t be an expert in so many things!”

Bucky is all shaggy longish dark hair and stupid cheap graphic t-shirts, with a striking, animated face that is used mainly for sarcasm. He and Sam had been at the same high school a few blocks away, though Sam is older, and in the funny way of life they’ve wound up good friends. He’s working at Sam’s place because, in his words, he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing with his life. Bucky’s going through his own version of one of those fairly bleak lost periods of 20-something misery, but he’s smart and not a drunk and decent at what he does for Sam, and if he bangs a third of the customers he does it discreetly enough. Sam never knew dark-blond, broad-shouldered, bass-voice sad-eyed dudes pushing 40 were the kryptonite that made him unable to do anything including flirt, until Steve came in one day and Bucky sprayed himself with the keg he was tapping.

Steve chuckles— is this man blushing? “Oh no, I’m nowhere near an expert. But it’s pretty easy once they get established. Don’t need much from you. I’m not, uh, living at the place with the backyard where the hives are, right now….so….but they’ll be fine without me.”

Steve gets a little quiet and Bucky’s fangirl expression dims with distressed sympathy. It gets sad like this sometimes when talking to Steve. Recently divorced guys had this problem, where everything came back to the one topic. Steve’s not doing it pathologically, didn’t seem like, just genuinely realizing another change. Bucky looks stricken. He doesn’t always seem young, at newly 24, but sometimes it still shows.

Sam finally manages to catch his eye away from gazing at Steve to convey a quick head jerk of get-the-hell-over-there-and-do-the-job-I-pay-you-for, and Bucky peels himself away with an apologetic smile at Steve. Sam picks up the conversation with Steve as Bucky clears tables at top speed, hearing how he’s renting a place month-to-month not far away, not able to plan something more permanent just yet. He doesn’t say anything revealing, but it’s still easy to paint a picture of a small, empty apartment. Bucky’s not the only one with a soft spot for this guy, and Sam is warmed by the thought that his little bar offers him respite.

………………..

“That’s so sad,” moans Bucky a few days later. It’s just after opening on a weekday afternoon, and Bucky seemed quieter than usual so Sam is tantalizing him with what he learned talking to Steve the other day. “Did he say—you know he has kids?”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam answers. He’d been as offhand as a person could be about that sort of thing, but it wasn’t hard to see how he really felt. He was standing in the rubble of a sincere loving marriage to a woman with whom he had two 11-year old twins. Helped explain his rectitude when it came from moving from his spot at the bar, meeting someone other than the staff. Bucky’s eyes are pools of sympathetic anguish and Sam feels the need to say, “This kinda stuff happens to people, Buck,” earning an eye-roll for his patronizing efforts. “It’s good he’s coming here, learning about himself. I think you help a lot, for the record.”

Bucky starts and gives him a bewildered look. “What?”

This is aging him. Sam sighs, “He’s lonely. Maybe feels kinda lost right now.”

Bucky’s mouth gets a pained downward slant to it.

“He. Likes. You.”

At that, of course, Bucky gets uncomfortable, blushing and moving off to wipe tables somewhere away from Sam, rubbing his nose and clearing his throat like he’s been doing since he got there. He brightens when Steve comes in an hour later, and Sam rolls his eyes and leaves them to their game of mouse-and-mouse.

Steve is telling Bucky... how window insulation works. He thinks he asked, he hopes to god he did, at least. He’s been embarrassing himself for weeks, coming to this place almost every day. He’s kept it pretty well under wraps that although he liked the neighborhood simplicity, and talking to Sam, and got comfortable after the first few visits, the real reason he’s there more evenings than not is to see Bucky. With his bright grey-blue eyes and dark hair hanging past his chin, swinging against his cheekbones, with his smile and wicked sense of humor and his confounding ease in himself, the ease that gives Steve despair and hope for himself. With that mouth and that divot in his chin, and those last two thoughts are not allowed, because the need to put his thumb into that dot in his sculpted chin and kiss those ridiculously pink lips is urgent and unthinkable.

He doesn’t do that, he just sits and pines and chats awkwardly with him, and gets to know a few other regular guys and talks sports with Sam. He just likes talking to Bucky, it’s easy, easy like nothing has been in a long time, and he’s a creep, he’s a pathetic older guy using his experience to take advantage of a younger guy—

Only, he’s not actually experienced here, at all. And Bucky is so smart, he’s self-deprecating about it but it’s not like he and Steve aren’t generally on the same level beyond his inner glossary of home improvement terminology. He downplays the fact that he knows cars like an expert, insists the stuff Steve learned from keeping up an old house and the hobbies he picked up to stay sane is somehow far more impressive— Steve’s pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose, to make him feel less adrift and clueless. He has that way about him, of someone who looks after other people without realizing it.

Things were all dark there for a while, with the end of his marriage to Peggy. But he’s pretty sure he and Bucky are friends, and he feels bright when he sees him.

Tonight, though, Bucky seems just a little worn down. He’s wearing a waffle-knit shirt under his incomprehensible-thorny-calligraphy-t-shirt, as though he’s cold, and his eyes are tired. Steve waits for a reply to the last thing he said and looks to see Bucky with a dazed, spaced-out expression, before he shakes his head and rubs his nose, saying “Sorry, I thought I was gonna sneeze, what’d you say?”

Talking about the goddamn weather and window insulation was segueing into a real conversation, to Steve’s delight: “How my mom moved us out to Jersey so we could live somewhere better and I never forgave her.” Bucky gives a wide-eyed grimace of agreement and he can’t help the bright laugh that bursts out of him. “How about you, you grow up in the city?” He’d inadvertently spilled his guts about the divorce on like his third time in the bar, something that humiliated him to think of but Sam had simply said with an understanding face wasn’t too unusual, so Bucky knew the basics about Peggy and the twins, but Steve had felt clumsy asking Bucky about himself.

He rolled his eyes with his problematically attractive crooked grin and answered, “Aw man, I grew up practically around the block from this place. Went to high school at the big catholic cinderblock in the neighborhood. I was at school on the west coast for a couple years, but…” His eyes cast downward. “now I’m back.”

Steve remembers how bad it felt at that age, to not have accomplished enough fast enough. Saying that will make him sound like an old grey dad and even if that’s what he is he can still hold out a little hope of being something different here, so he just says, “Brooklyn’s a good hometown to come back to.”

That makes Bucky smile at him and look him in the eye, like he liked what Steve said, even like it made him feel better. Steve tamps his answering grin down to reasonable levels.

Bucky’s also been rubbing at his nose on and off this whole time, and he can see it give a little twitch right before he breathes out a “scuse-me” through hitching breaths, his eyes flickering closed. He pushes his nose firmly into his long-sleeved elbow. “hhh-hh-tdschuh!” He sneezes quietly and muffled. “Oh, snf, sorry,” he says, blinking and emerging from his elbow but not lowering it, the hazy ticklish look still on his face, breaths hitching. “Another—hhh—‘nother one?” He freezes, looking up at the overhead lights, nostrils flared, but after a second he deflates with a sigh. “Nope, nevermind. Snff.” Steve’s guts swoop. This crush is so unsustainable. He’s gonna fail to be cool and friendly and he’ll have to watch Bucky go all uncomfortable and pitying as he explains to Steve that he has six hot boyfriends who are not almost-forty almost-virgin losers who only know how to take up his time when he’s trying to work. According to his therapist these “harangues of negativity” are “unhelpful.” But Bucky looks tired and a little pale and like his nose is going to start turning pink and Steve is just trying to survive.

“Bless you,” Steve says softly in his gentle voice that’s so deep it takes Bucky by surprise and makes his stomach flutter every time he talks to him. He feels like he might be blushing.

“Thanks,” it comes out husky and he clears his throat hard, moving to the little sink to wash his hands.

“Allergies, or…?” Steve ventures, a little divot between his eyebrows of concern-more-like-pity.

“I dunno, something’s bothering my nose today,” he says lightly with a shrug. In truth Bucky has a good idea what’s making him sneeze. The fucking radiator that was supposed to heat his cheap shitty basement apartment had stopped working in the middle of the night, so he’d spent six hours until dawn shivering, and an itchy tickly feeling had been growing in the back of his nose and throat since around noon. It’s starting to evolve into a runny nose and an ever-present but elusive feeling of being about to sneeze, and he knows that means he’s coming down with a cold.

He sees some convenient glasses to clear and excuses himself with a smile so he can sniffle out of Steve’s earshot; he’s enough of a mess compared to Steve on his best day, he doesn’t need to show off his scraggly urchin runny nose aesthetic of tonight any more than he has to.

For the next hour, these light, tickly sneezes either sneak up on him or abandon him at the last minute, leaving his nose feeling like it’s going to start getting stuffy.

Steve watches Bucky do his job, sniffling, rubbing his nose, and sneezing furtively into his sleeve or collar; tucking the strands of hair that have come loose from his short ponytail behind his ears, and feels so helplessly tender for him that it can’t be normal or healthy even by desperate crush standards.

Bucky’s coming down with a cold. He seems to want to brush it off, but Steve can hear a slight change in the resonance of his voice that gives it away even if the tired pink starting to border his eyes and nostrils doesn’t. The place is getting crowded and he’s busy; Steve feels for him, as well as pathetically jealous of his attention as he banters with him in passing once in a while.

He glances up as Bucky heads in his direction with a short stack of empty glasses and sees his steps slow; he pauses, blinks up at the overhead light, eyes hazy, and then, wavering, starts to turn his face into his shoulder, before pausing again and then sighing and sniffing as the sneeze evaporates. He looks up and sees Steve watching him like a creep and laughs, “Damn, lost her,” and then as he continues behind the bar, “You havin’ fun watching me look stupid?”

“It’s agony actually,” he responds, gets a laugh, and feels the now-somewhat-familiar internal squeal of this is flirting! I’m flirting with a guy and I think he can tell! It’s painfully pathetic, but he can’t help but track the fact that Bucky knows plenty of the folks that come to Sam’s, that he’ll give anyone his attention if they ask for it, smiling and joking, but the only person he really goes out of his way to talk to, initiates teasing with, is him, Steve. It’s still nothing more than polite obligatory chatting, he’s sure— when you work at a bar this kinda thing is natural. Bucky is young and charismatic and gorgeous. His love life would probably give Steve enough combined envy and jealousy to cause heart failure, which would be perfectly appropriate because he is an old square divorcee. It makes him warm and bubbly enough that he seems to be Bucky’s favorite customer to pass the time with.

A guy down the bar gets his beer from Sam and sidles closer. “This seat taken?” he asks with a good-humored cocked eyebrow. This is why Steve actually started coming to this place: to meet people, to meet guys, in a way that, well, went somewhere. To call his own decades-old bluff. Not to moon over staff half his age who woulda been out of his league even if he was still in his twenties. He turns to the guy—his age or a few years older, attractively lithe with muscle, a hard but handsome face, and smiles.

Bucky gets busy for a stretch— Sam’s place is actually full tonight thanks to the playoff game. He enjoys the feeling of being a genuinely necessary part of the bar’s operation, when some nights it’s hard to believe he’s more than Sam’s charity case. Nights like this remind him that he has a real job, he’s decent at it even with a bum left arm; whether he’s living out his dreams or not he’s an adult with a job, a place to live, and people he cares about. Plus it distracts him from feeling sorry for himself for coming down sick.

His satisfied feelings fade when he looks over to the Steve end of the bar and sees Brock Rumlow talking to him. He scowls. Fucking Rumlow. He only ever comes on nights with games these days, but Bucky would be perfectly happy if he never came in at all.

It’s fine. Steve’s fine. He is a grown-up, significantly more of one than Bucky. Of all the people who have no need of his misplaced ineffectual chivalry, Steve has got to be last in line.

Maybe he finds more stuff to do in the general area of that end of the bar, and maybe he’s listening for Rumlow to say something dickish, or maybe he’s just a masochist and he wants to know firsthand if they hit it off. Sam is trying to point his “Don’t-be-Stupid” face at him like a flashlight beam but he resolutely ignores it while he replaces a couple bottles that legitimately needed it, ok, just because they’re in a convenient place doesn’t make that untrue.

“Yeah, I’m glad I found this place,” he catches Steve’s cheerful voice. A wave of bar noise obscures their next words, and then he makes out Rumlow,

“—actual sports on the TV. ‘Course,” the smile is audible in his voice, “the clubby places are good for at least one reason, y’know?” He quiets down to say it but not enough. Steve wouldn’t particularly like that, Bucky guesses, and then grinds his teeth as his brain helpfully supplies him with the memories of how easily Brock had charmed him, months ago. It wasn’t any kind of nightmare, but it was still probably his least favorite hookup to date: he’d been so happily focused on Bucky at first, then rough and selfish in bed, capped off by an unnecessarily clear implication that he wouldn’t be calling. Bucky knew the score with casual sex, but it had still given him enough whiplash to sting; it crossed his mind a few days later that it had been like Rumlow wanted him to feel like a dumb kid.

Steve has sputtered something about “not sure he’s looking for anything like that” while Bucky fumed about the past. He has to grab beers for a couple guys, and bending to get in the lowboy fridge makes his nose run suddenly, and flush with an insistent tickle. He manages, just barely, to squash the sneeze completely into a silent mmp! into his shoulder, andmakes a getaway to the bathroom. He blows his nose, but it won’t stop tickling, so then he stands there like an idiot, holding paper towels like they’re a book he’s reading, staring up into the lights and waiting to coax the sneeze out.

He can feel it coming but it still takes forever. At least the bathroom is empty. He wrinkles his nose exaggeratedly and sniffs and his breath finally starts to catch.

“hehh...heh...heh—heh-Uhh....huhh. Fuck.” There’s no way it’s not happening though, his goddamn nose tickles so bad— “hhHAh—EHSsschhooo!” It’s a ridiculous cartoony sneeze but at least it’s satisfying. He blows his nose again, then sighs. He’s definitely sick. Gonna be great sleeping in a freezing apartment. Turning into kind of a shitty night, he thinks with sarcastic pep.

When he leaves the restroom he can’t help glancing over to where Steve sits, and sees he’s now frowning at whatever Rumlow’s saying, looking politely uncomfortable on the way to annoyed. As he drifts back into earshot he hears, “….fun, but, if you’re looking for more than, um, casual, I dunno, kind of a dead end.” Then his pulse jumps as Rumlow looks right at him and finishes, “not dating material, trust me. Either way,” he leans in, “I think you can do better.”

Bucky closes the distance but puts himself behind the bar so he doesn’t immediately clock the asshole. His fists are clenched. Can he throw him out? If he doesn’t get away from Steve and shut up Bucky’s gonna end up fired and charged with assault, probably, but he doesn’t know if he can throw someone out on the grounds of being a jerk that he hates. Thank God, Sam’s caught on that something is up.

Rumlow doesn’t seem to have won Steve over, in any case. He’s turned cold and hard in a way that makes him look unfamiliar, and he says quietly but very clearly, “I think you’ve got the wrong idea.” He sounds like a straight Army Captain contemptuously shattering an underling’s heart immediately post-office-suckjob or something; in the morass of anger and panic it still registers with Bucky’s dick to his utter bewilderment. It definitely triggers some core memory for Rumlow, who turns the color of old milk before flushing and standing. He takes in the sight of Bucky glowering behind Steve and barks an ugly laugh. “It’s like that, huh?” he asks, shaking his head in mock pity. “Good luck with that rescue mission.”

Bucky feels like he did when Hank Ackerman pantsed him in 8th grade. Everything’s too bright and clear. He wants to cover his face and run into the back, but he’s rooted to the spot by the thought that that’s just what the dumb baby slut Rumlow’s been making him out to be would do.

“That’s it man,” Sam comes up beside him, smile on his face as though he’s just casually joining their conversation. “You’re done. Get outta here.”

Rumlow scoffs, takes a step towards the door, then turns with the beginning of a macho intimidation-lean in Sam’s direction. He’s hammered, Bucky hadn’t realized, and he can usually tell with people. He’s...kind of fucking scary. Had he gotten rougher around the edges, or had he been like this when Bucky went home with him? Jesus Christ.

Sam just returns his stare, all semblance of friendliness gone from his face. “Get out.”

Rumlow glares another second, but then he goes. There’s a reason Sam’s successful running a bar in the middle of the still-managing-to-be-seedy part of Brooklyn, as well as his finely tuned sensibilities to the unmet needs of Brooklyn’s grownup queer folks. He has the air, recognizable to serious troublemakers, of someone who will absolutely meet and raise any escalation. There were, in fact, a taser and a gun behind the bar, but Sam had never had to use them.

Steve stands up sharply, like he’s—what, gonna follow? Bucky opens his mouth to protest, but then—“Steve.” Sam’s got the side bar entry folded up and he’s intercepting his angry stride. “Please don’t.” He goes on, too quiet for Bucky to make out. Steve deflates and sits back down, taking a long drink of beer and then frowning at his knees.

Bucky consciously lets go of his tension as he sees Rumlow’s silhouette, walking outside, disappear from the last window on the right. He feels shaky, the way any kind of confrontation leaves him, and embarrassed as hell. He avoids Steve’s eyes for all he’s worth, scrubbing a hand under his nose and sniffing sharply.

Steve was just a customer. Bucky was just one of many people that Steve made polite conversation with in the course of a day. Feeling like this was just a consequence of getting that confused. Because he’s an idiot. He has to sniffle again. He also feels about ten times sicker than he did a few minutes ago, and successfully blinking away the brief prickle in his eyes just turns it into the need to sneeze.

Steve tries to breathe smoothly and calm down. This frat-boy rage is ridiculous, he still wants to go punch the hell out of that fucking creep. He must be drunker than he realizes, although deep down he knows it has more to do with the inarticulate surge of protectiveness he’d felt for Bucky since the guy had gestured to him with a jerk of his head as he crossed the room.

He hears a shuddering gasp and sees Bucky duck down to crouch behind the bar. His concern flares way up, but then he hears the three muffled sneezes, all in a rush, “hhhMPtchsh—hmptsschoo—hptsshhuh,”. He straightens back up, sniffing hard, more wetly than he sounded earlier. He’s rubbing his nose and glaring at the door, not looking at Steve.

“Bucky,” he says, frowning, determined to get this across, “what that asshole said about you—”

“Steve, snff, it’s fine, just drop it, okay, I’m asking you,” he meets Steve’s eyes with a downcast expression, before it flickers as his breath catches, and he sneezes again, half-pinched down into the collar of his shirt, “ihh-dtsschuh!”

His nostrils keep quivering and he lets out a shaky sigh of frustration before ducking around the corner out of sight with his hands tented over his nose and sneezing, “hiih-hih-HIDtschoo!...hih-HIH-TISchoo! ..heehh...heh—HEH—” the last one deserts him and leaves him sniffling. They’re still pretty quiet, but a lot heavier and spraying than the first sneezes Steve heard earlier. Bucky blows his nose and washes his hands thoroughly, and when he’s back behind the bar his nose is decidedly pink.

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky’s lips thin in exasperation— it’s not like him, compared to the guy Steve’s talked to the last few weeks. Whatever, he can’t help but say, “you do sound like you’re coming down with something, you should—”

“Steve, I’m fine,” says Bucky, in a soft tone that brooks no argument. Still tense, he turns to Steve with a crooked smile and says, “Really,” and it’s warm, if strained, between them again, and it seems like that’ll just have to satisfy Steve, and he says as much to Bucky who blushes and bites his lip for some reason.

Sam rescues Bucky by asking him to do inventory in back, letting him be sneeze and be dramatically in his feels without anyone around, especially Steve. The bar is slow enough now that he just shamelessly hides for the rest of the night. He’s constantly sniffling and sneezing and needing to blow his nose with the roll of rough brown paper towels back there, and even without that he’s too keyed up and pissed and miserable for human company, so it’s for the best.

He casts furtive recon glances to the bar where Steve sits, first craning his neck trying to spy Bucky, then brooding into his beer glass which makes Bucky feel like an asshole, then perking up at least a little shooting the shit with Sam, hopefully talking shit about Brock Dickface Rumlow. Then the misery wells up enough to get him to actually focus on work to avoid feeling it, and then it’s a few hours later and they’re closing up and he goes home to his little icebox and tires not to think about anything.

The next day, Sam chooses evil.

Steve and JB Barnes are both at least somewhat complex men, and it is always a bad idea to meddle in the affairs of others. But screw it, he’s had Bucky moaning in his ear for months now, and he was gonna have to recheck all his angry counting from last night, and these guys really seemed dumb enough to let the tension of mutual attraction strain between them until it just broke, some misunderstanding threw them both on the defensive or whatever, and they missed the chance at any of the fun part of connecting with each other.

So.

It isn’t a big surprise when Bucky calls him around 2, apologizing and pausing to make some gross “ihHgjshuhh!” noise, saying he was probably too sick with this cold to come in. What is a surprise, for poor Bucky, is Sam’s implacable response: “Duuude, I’m so sorry, but there’s some kinda convention in town and the place is packed, I need you here so bad, no matter what. You can take the next two days off, I’ll pay you.” He hears Bucky swallow back the what the hell and resignedly say ok. He feels diabolical. But hopefully it will be worth it. Steve usually comes in early on Thursdays, and he’d looked all hangdog-worried about Bucky the night before.

He’s been there twenty minutes already, chatting distractedly with Sam and staring at the TV screens but really looking all over the room like Bucky might be hiding somewhere. Bucky slouches in, ten minutes late, takes in the mostly empty room and gives Sam a betrayed glare.

“You really ndeeded mbe, huh,” he mutters as he puts his backpack away.

“You don’t even sound that bad,” Sam rejoins cheerfully, and Bucky’s mouth drops open with incredulity.

He moves some boxes around in back without issue. Then he tries to start prep by the bar. In a fifteen-minute period he has two sneezing fits that require him retreating to the bathroom to blow his nose endlessly and wash his hands. Sam decides that’s plenty sufficient. He and his customers are gonna pay a price in germ exposure for this stupid ass cupid skit he’s putting on.

“Steve, you believe this guy?” Bucky’s been avoiding Steve’s concerned hopeful looks since he got here. “He insisted on coming to work.” Bucky chokes in outrage, then coughs for real, while Steve moves a few seats closer. Sam turns; Bucky couldn’t look more betrayed if there was a knife with Sam’s name on it in his guts. Lord deliver him from dramatic white boys. “Did you take the bus here, Buck?” There was no other way for the guy to get to work, but he just replies flatly,

“Yeah.”

“You oughtta go home and rest.”

“Le me give you a ride, Buck,” Steve jumps in with the Air-Bud eagerness Sam had expected. They confirm it and bustle Barnes into a Civic while he’s sneezing too much to protest. Sam washes his hands metaphorically of the situation, and also very literally and thoroughly.

Steve’s car is a little old, and cold, and dusty. Bucky shivers as he buckles his seatbelt. He feels silently nervous and thrilled to be in Steve’s Car!!, but at the moment it’s hard to be anything but….sneezy…

“hhh-hh-hhmmPtchuh! S-s-sor-ry-hiihHIptchsh!” Holding them back when he feels like this just makes his nose more irritated and thus even sneezier. He stubbornly jams his fist under his nose to quell the tickle. He has some napkins from work, so a nose-blow is possible, but it doesn’t feel possible, not so close to Steve, who has it a million times more together than Bucky even on days when he isn’t falling apart on a cellular level.

“Bless you,” Steve says quietly. He looks at him reflexively, to see a small, sweet, sympathetic smile. “Ready?” Bucky gives a little nod and the car pulls out into the slushy road.

His nose is running onto his finger, it’s a crisis. This is why it’s always a terrible idea to leave the house when you’re really sick. “Ugh, I gotta blow mby ndose, I’mb sorry, I’mb so gross right ndow,” talking also makes his nose angry. Fucking Sam and his supervillain plan to humiliate him. What had he done to deserve this? He fumbles for the napkins with his less-dextrous left hand, the one he should have stuck under his nose, goddamnit, he’s gonna sneeze again…

“Psh, don’t worry about it,” scoffs Steve like the big huge dad he is, then with a sympathetic glance he turns the radio on, to the classic rock station, because of course, Bucky almost laughs even while racing to get tissues on his face before this giant wet sneeze overcomes him. The music is loud and it does help him feel less embarrassed.

“heh—HEH-KSSSHOOoo!” he gets the wad of napkins in front of him just in time. Blowing his nose after that demolishes them, but he feels a little closer to a human being.

“Bless you!” Steve chuckles. “Man you got a good bug, jeez!”

Why are he and Sam both so cheerful. “Thanks, I’mb glad you’re impressed,” he croaks.

“You have cold stuff at home?” Huh? When Bucky doesn’t answer he continues, “Tissues, tea, soup, medicine, you know?”

“Oh, umb, sorry, I’m tired,” Steve makes a sympathetic sound. “I usually just use toilet paper. I took the last of my Dayquil before work. I dunno if it even helped, all it feels like it did is mbake me jittery and sdeezy.”

“Why don’t we stop by a drugstore.” He sounded decisive.

“Oh, you don’t have to bother with that, really Steve—” he pauses to sniffle desperately. Technically he can afford a couple things, and he probably needs them. “Or—you could drop me off and I’ll get myself home from the store, that would totally be a big help—”

“Is the heat even on in your place?” Steve interrupts, shrewd-eyed. At Bucky’s wide-eyed sputtering response he continues, “I knew it. I used to be a broke Brooklyn kid, once upon a time. Only reason to come into work, am I right? Can’t believe landlords are still getting away with this shit.”

Bucky considers denial, then slumps. “S’why I’mb so much...hhh...worse...hh-huh-hudschuh! Snff-snff. Worse today. They said it’ll be fixed by tomorrow so...we’ll see, ha. I got a space heater and an electric kettle though, I can get in my blankets and drink tea and I’m fine.”

Steve is quiet, no response, and Bucky worries irrationally that he pissed him off. A few minutes of classic rock later, he pulls into the small parking lot attached to the drugstore, turns the car off, and turns to him, looking a little uncomfortable.

“Bucky I—” he breaks off and laughs to himself. “I know you have to be polite to customers, I don’t want to—” he makes eye contact, looking pained and rueful. “I’d like to think we’re friends. But I don’t want to put you on the spot or anything,”

“We’re friends,” Bucky interrupts gently. Steve’s face brightens like a sunrise and Bucky’s chest does a nice warm thing.

“Yeah? That’s...I’m real happy to hear it.” Steve says, sheepish but grinning. Then his eyes get the determined look that Bucky is starting to think means trouble. “Well the reason I asked is, as a friend, I really hate the idea of you trying to ride this out in an icebox apartment. I have heat. And a couch!” He hastens to add at whatever wide-eyed look Bucky’s giving him. “It’s just, I know it’s no fun being sick by yourself, and, well, honestly I wish I’d socked that asshole at the bar last night, and I really wish I’d clocked him as a jerk faster, and I’d feel a lot better if I could do something nice for you, and you really seem like you could do with some rest and medicine. Will you let me grab some stuff here and spend the night at my place—where there’s heat— and let me fuss over you?”

“Steve, that’s—that’s so nice, but I really can’t imb—snff—impose on you, and I gotta be so contagious right now…”

“I don’t care about that,” Steve says easily. “And I know you’re not gonna die on your own, but,” and, whoa, he’s deploying some kind of dignified mature version of puppy-dog eyes, it’s so sincere, and also so certain, that it starts to seem like the only sensible course of action is to let his gorgeous crush take him to his apartment while he’s the polar opposite of sexy, an unspeakable snot factory, and also possibly starting to run a fever.

….His apartment is gonna be so goddamn cold.

And lonely, incidentally.

And Steve is so nice. He’s literally, actually here, he seems to mean it that he wants to take care of Bucky’s sick bedraggled ass as some kind of friend-favor. There’s no way this is a come-on with him in this state, even if he can still muster enough energy to wish it was. No way Steve’s ever gonna want to fuck him after watching him snuffle through 200 tissues and mouth-breathe all evening, but he was nuts to think he ever would anyhow. He’s just that nice, and Bucky is that pathetic, and that might not feel great, but he wants to be Steve’s friend, he really does, and even through his own shyness he can see that the guy is pretty lonely.

“You, umb. You really don’t have to.” He says, watching Steve, who waits with obvious hopefulness. “But. Uh.” Steve raises his eyebrows and gives him a little smile, and Bucky finds himself returning it helplessly. “If you really don’t mbind. It could, potentially, be really ndice to take you up on that. You really don’t have to though!”

“I want to, though.” Jesus, he’s so sincere. Bucky feels some weird kind of protective way about the earnest honesty in his eyes.

“Well, then, okay. Thangk you, I really appreciate it.” He laughs, finally feeling how miserable it would have been to go back home and try to sleep in a cold blanket pile on his mattress on the floor. “Mby place sucks right now.”

“Alright then,” Steve beams. “Let’s get you a couple things and then get you cozy.”

Bucky’s nose is not okay with him using his face to talk instead of constantly blow it. It’s gotten completely blocked, and it’s tingling unpleasantly, and running so bad again he has to smush his knuckles under his nostrils. The tickle crests and his breath catches before he can do anything about it, but he clenches his jaw and forces it into a stifle. “hhh-huh-MMP!!” The problem with doing that is it just makes the tickle— “hh-mMP!” worse. “Ugh, sorry.” His hand is a dam against his nose at this point.

“Bless you!” They both step out of the car, but Steve hurries over to his side with a crinkle in his brow. “Why don’t you just stay here and I’ll grab a few things. Anything in particular, or just tissues and NyQuil?”

“Dyquil is just schndapps,” Bucky grumbles, then his brain catches up a little and he says “tissues,” fervently, and then it catches all the way up and he says “wait, ndo way are you buyig!”

Steve cocks an eyebrow like a handsome jerk. “You really wanna go in there?” With your current nose situation? He’s kind enough to not say.

He casts about for a moment—“Grab me a little pack and then I’ll go in!”

Steve gives him a skeptical look and says “Sure,” in a way that makes him think his orders won’t be followed, but he’s too busy squishing his nose more firmly and silently begging it not to make him sneeze again to keep arguing, or to protest when Steve opens the door for him and puts his car keys in his hand before dashing into the store with a promise to be quick.

He’s back not even ten minutes later, by which time holding his nose plugged and not letting his sneezes out has put Bucky in a state of perma-misery, stifling relentless sneezes every few seconds, unable to keep his eyes fully open. Steve tosses a box of tissues onto his lap before he gets all the way into the car because he is a saint.

“Guh,” Bucky says gratefully, pulls out a wad of about ten, and lets the miserable sneeze that had been building out into the nest of forgiving softness. “HehgSHOOmpff!!” And then blows his nose forever. Finally he feels like he can speak and have a face again; the little drugstore bag is now home to a dozen nasty used-tissue balls. “Well,” he says as he puts the last one in there, “wish I hadn’t had a witness for that.”

Steve just chuckles. “You’re fine,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing rumble. “I grabbed you a toothbrush, and I’ve got some stuff that can fit you for pjs.”

Bucky feels like he sneezed out the last of his strength. “You’re way too nice.” He sniffles and slumps against the window, looking at the familiar blur of orange streetlight. “I should be more worried you’re a serial killer.” Steve chuckles again, and he likes that, so he goes on, “Probly got a nice Jeffrey Dahmer setup at your place. Sorry if I don’t make a good steak.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Steve replies, sounding indignant. Then laughs for real, shaking his head, “I’m not gonna chop you up and eat you, I swear.”

“It’s fine. Just mbake mbe into soup,” sighs Bucky. That would be warm. He’ll just be a big hot pot of Bucky, and Steve will stir him and season him so carefully with his big strong hands. This is a weird train of thought. He might have a fever. But he can still hear Steve chuckling.

Steve pulls into his parking spot and the car shudders to stillness as he takes his key out of the ignition. Next to him, Bucky is asleep with his head mushed against the window. He’d conked out for the last five or so minutes of the drive. “Hey, Buck, we just got to my place,” he says softly, trying not to sound too bedroom-y. His eyes flutter open, the blue of them standing out, and Steve takes a steadying breath because Bucky is so good-looking it catches him off guard and overwhelms him sometimes.

His eyes are glassy-bright and there’s a flush high on his cheekbones, and as he shifts upright in his seat Steve reaches over and touches his forehead without thinking about it. It’s noticeably hot, but not burning. The twins’ childhood bouts with the flu gave him a sense of bad-fever heat. “Think you got a temperature,” he murmurs sympathetically. Bucky just blinks up at him, a little wide-eyed, and only then does he realize his big meaty hand is practically covering half his face. He feels himself flush to match Bucky, and for a second they just look at each other.

Until Bucky sniffs a miserable liquid sniffle and they both almost jump. “Sorry,” Steve mutters awkwardly, and Bucky’s saying the same thing at the same time. They both move to get out, “Just one flight of stairs up.”

“huh—tschumpf!” is Bucky’s answer, his nose buried in a new handful of tissues. “huhh, hUH—huh.” The second sneeze fizzles, leaving him blinking and frowning and wrinkling his nose snifflishly against the ticklish haze as he shuts the door. “Fuck. Sorry, scuse mbe.”

“Bless you.” It’s probably not normal to find someone so sick so adorable.

Steve leads him up and along the hall and then he’s unlocking the door, feeling giddy that he’s letting Bucky into his apartment, and then guilty for being excited, when the poor guy is just hesitantly accepting a much-needed favor. Bucky trails in behind him and then stands still while Steve sets the bag from the drugstore and started to turn to him, saying, “It’s not much, but—”

“ASHHOO!” Bucky’s sneeze interrupts and snaps him forward into his tissues, and then he just stays folded over for a second like it sapped the last of his energy. Then he straightens, rubbing his nose into the tissues and sighing. “Jesus, sorry,”

“Bless you! You don’t have to be sorry, you’ve just got a cold.” Steve has to hold himself still to keep from rubbing his back.

“You’re...hh-huh….? Snfff, ugh. Totally gonna catch this, I owe you way mbore apologies.”

“I won’t hold it against you,” he chuckles, toeing his shoes off. Bucky follows suit and he continues, “I stopped caring after raising toddlers, they’re little germ factories, you catch everything.” Why’d you bring up your old-dad status, Steve? “I’ll grab you some things to sleep in.”

An hour and one confrontation about Steve giving up his bed later, Bucky is ensconced on his couch like the king of cold-medicine commercials, surrounded by blankets and pillows and tissues and steaming cups and bowls. He feels a little more human, which is nice, but lets him access how incandescently awkward he feels at being rescued from his idiotic life like a snotty Cinderella. Steve has been flitting back and forth between the couch and kitchen, fussing over him to a truly excessive degree while exuding satisfaction and cheer, like some kind of calendar-model Santa with a caretaking kink. He was practically rubbing his hands together at the prospect of getting Bucky blankets and tea on his couch. Now he’s giving a rundown of his TV system standing next to the couch and it feels the tiniest bit manic and Bucky can feel himself getting a little too quiet but he can’t help it. After a minute Steve notices, and sets the remote down.

“I should stop babbling at you and leave you in peace,” he says with a bashful chuckle, turning to leave the room.

“No, I— you don’t—” Bucky doesn’t really have a response beyond ‘please chill out and hang out with me and let me picture cuddling with you,’ which will not be said aloud.

“You really don’t hafta feel like you need to entertain me, Bucky.”

“It’s not, I don’t,” he sighs and then sniffles. He doesn’t want to sit here and stare at the wall and stress about this, alone in this room in Steve’s goddamn apartment. He maybe should have thought about just how much he’d fallen for Steve before taking him up on this offer, because the concern and sweetness and fussing are starting to ratchet up his anxiety, because what if there was a chance it meant—

“Is anything the matter?” Steve crouches smoothly to be on his level and torment him with his eyes’ blueness. When all Bucky can do for a moment is flounder he looks more concerned, and a little downcast. “I really don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. If anything’s bothering you, you can just tell me.”

What the hell is an ordinary sinner supposed to do in the face of this much sincerity? Act like he thinks he’s a damn grownup, Bucky guesses, and girds his nervous loser loins.

“Why’re you—” he starts, frowning, then cuts himself off and tries again with a small, apologetic smile.

“It’s just...this is such an imposition, and you seem...kinda weirdly happy about it? I just don’t get why.”

One side of Steve’s mouth quirks up, making him look dry and self-deprecating and unfairly handsome. “You’re worried I’m gonna start talkin about Scientology, or put you in my basement dungeon?”

Bucky shrugs. “Kinda.” Just ‘cause he went home with strangers didn’t mean he had no sense.

Steve seems to cast about for an explanation, and he also starts to turn pink. “It’s—you’re just so—” and then he sighs and sits on the end of the couch, next to his blanketed feet, addressing his words to the wall in a rush. “Honestly, Bucky? I have a huge crush on you, and,” he laughs in embarrassment, decidedly blushing now, “I’m just real happy to have a chance to take care of you in whatever little way.” Now he does turn to look at him, pained. “I’m sorry, that must be so uncomfortable to hear. I promise you’re not my hostage! Please don’t make a break for it, it’s cold out and you’re so sick. I swear I’m not Cathy Bates in Misery.”

“Y—hihdsschuh!” The sneeze catches him by surprise, but he has wadded-up tissues in his hand already anyhow. He has to blow his nose, and he does it thoroughly to buy time. Steve stares stoically at the ceiling as though waiting for sentencing. Is this seriously Steve telling Bucky...he likes him?

“You…” he stops, sniffs. He needs a plan. He doesn’t have one. His mouth is gonna keep moving anyway, “You said, ‘you’re just so—‘, what were you gonna say?”

Steve looks confused for a second, and then just helpless. “Bucky, you’re just so sweet. I’m happy for a chance to do something for you because I owe you, you get that, right?”

“Owe me?” Bucky asks, nonplussed. Steve laughs with what seems like disbelief at his confusion.

“Yes, Buck! For the last few months! For taking pity on me that first night I came into Sam’s. You asked me a question about antifreeze.”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs. His world is rearranging itself. Steve remembered that?

“I feel—real self-conscious, I guess, coming into the “scene,” he gives it air-quotes and Bucky’s heart swells a little more, “by the route I have. Y’know, married dad who woke up one day and realized the stuff he repressed at sixteen might be the real him. Sam’s was the third place I tried to go into. I just felt so ridiculous, I still do— 39-year-old brand-new gay dude, it’s idiotic. I was practically gonna have a panic attack, I was definitely gonna leave and not try again and just...stop trying in general, maybe, to figure this new scary shit out. Except you were there, this—this smokin-hot guy, and you’re acting like you actually want to talk to me, and… so I stayed. And came back.” He looks Bucky in the eyes and it makes Bucky’s stomach clench. “I feel like you’ve been taking care of me this whole time, helping me ease into things, helping me not to feel bad about being completely uncool, asking me about stuff I actually know about instead of laughing at me because I’ve never heard of ‘poppers’,”

At that, Bucky has to give in to the giggle bubbling out of him, which inevitably leads to a short coughing fit. His first instinct is to keep laughing, rake Steve over the coals, but Steve is looking at him with a careful sort of expression, and it occurs to Bucky that just because he’s older and seems like he has it all together and has great posture doesn’t mean he’s immune to feeling vulnerable. And he looks like he’s feeling really fucking vulnerable right now. Acting like Bucky is worthy of this adorable schoolboy crush is absurd, but it’s not like it was so many eons ago that little baby Bucky Barnes was having his First Gay Bar experience, and he’d been scared as shit.

He already feels like he missed the boat on his life. Steve is starting over at 39. He’s so fucking brave. Bucky...somehow, unthinkably, Bucky is in a position where he could really hurt this guy.

“I’mb, umb. Snfff. Thing is, I’m a little surprised…” And Steve must think that’s the prelude to rejection because he pulls this sad little smile onto his face that’s the worst thing Bucky’s ever seen, and he has to make it go away, “It’s just, to hear you tell it I took pity on you and I’ve been talking to you to, like, guide you along and coach you because I’m some saint!” He smiles, starting to feel amused. “Steve— I just wanted some reason to talk to you, dude.”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

He has to laugh, putting his forehead in his hand. “Sorry. I, just, I have not been operating under the assumption that I had a chance with you? And now it sounds like you’re telling me I do? While I sit on your couch filling your trash can with my disgusting tissue mountain?”

All he gets from the man is “...Huh?”

“You said ‘crush’,” he insists, and he’s not laughing, his heart is pounding actually. “What did you mean by that?” He’s gonna awkwardly say that he wants to fuck, and once that box is checked in his Gay Awakening, he’ll move on to actually date people actually in his league, and that’s maybe not gonna feel great, but, well…

Steve looks up from staring at his hands, makes eye contact, and he looks a little confused and a lot like he’s facing a firing squad. “I meant, I mean that…” he blows a breath out. “Jesus I have no idea what I’m doing. I mean that I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you out on a date, since pretty much the first night I met you.”

Bucky’s head does a record scratch and Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, “But I guess instead I kidnapped you when you were sick and blurted this out to you while you were trapped on my couch waiting to be left alone to sleep. I was never smooth but I swear I’ve done better than this.”

A giddy feeling is rising up in Bucky’s chest, making him forget completely about how tired and crappy he feels. “Well, I am smooth,” he says, “I’ve got game. At least, I did, until you showed up and turned me into a giggling bimbo. What the hell, Steve.”

“This is starting to seem like a romantic conversation but I can’t tell,” murmurs Steve with his face still uncertain but a little twinkle in his eye.

Bucky’s nose is gonna ruin this, he’s surprised it gave him that long a grace period. “Yeah, snfff, real romantic, I’mb gonna—hih—fuckin’ sndeeze—heh-heTShoo! Againd.”

Another sneeze teases out, and then he has to blow his nose for about ten years. “Bless you,” says Steve all quiet and bedroomy in his deep voice, and he’s definitely smiling, sparkle-eyes, leaning towards him the tiniest bit, but still looking like Bucky’s leaving him hanging a little, unsure, and he can’t help the wave of doubt he feels.

“Steve, you—” he stares at the blanket on his lap. “I’m a mess. You’ve accomplished shit, you have a real goddamn job, I—I’m just, ok, we’re both adults, but I feel like a screw-up kid compared to you.” He takes a deep breath and says what he doesn’t want to, “I’d be...pretty damn flattered if you wanted to hook up. I kinda can’t imagine you actually want to date me.”

He dares to look up and Steve looks more serious. He doesn’t say, “no shit.” He says, “I won’t argue if you say you don’t want anything, but I sure don’t agree with how you describe yourself. I don’t want to hook up—at least, not just that— I want to date you, get to know each other better, because I like you. I trust my judgement, when I think someone’s a good person.”

He says it so simply, and Bucky finds himself believing it despite himself, and a warm happy fire is kindling under his ribs. “Well, shit,” he murmurs, “it’s starting to seem like you’re asking me out.”

“It’s...starting to seem like you might be saying yes? If I am?” Steve looks agonized and Bucky’s doubts are no match for the giddiness fizzing up inside him, and he lets it show on his face with a grin, and whatever that looks like makes Steve kinda gulp and scootch up closer to him. Bucky makes a show of giving a slow, considering nod. Yes.

Steve has this soft, nervous little smile on his face, but his eyes hold something weighty, almost burning, as he moves even closer, and it’s just, it’s really, wow, Bucky has maybe never been taken seriously in quite this way by anyone before, it makes his knees feel watery and kindles something in his core. “I know you’re sick,” he rumbles, “but I feel like I gotta kiss you,” and how is it that the softer he speaks the deeper his voice sounds? He brushes his curled fingers over Bucky’s cheek because that’s how close they are now and this isn’t really Bucky’s life, is it? “What if I was to kiss you, right now?”

It’s hard to tell with the sexiness melting his brain but he realizes Steve is actually asking, because he’s a gentleman— a gentleman Bucky wants to be taken apart and turned inside out by. “Then you would be a guaranteed victim of my plague,” he breathes. “But I wouldn’t stop you, I’m not that selfless.”

“Sounds like a dare,” Steve murmurs, and tilts his head and presses their lips together.

It’s a short simple kiss but they each give a quiet gasp at the contact, and then stay there a moment. Steve’s beard isn’t huge but he feels it, like a firm underline to the shockingly warm plush pressure of his lips. He thankfully tragically remembers that congested people can’t make out and pulls away after just a brief press of lips, but not before giving a soft lick to Bucky’s, full of promised things to come.

They sit there a few inches apart and breathe. Bucky feels like a vibrating tuning fork. He just barely stops himself from shakily saying “wow,” like a highschool virgin, but when he sees Steve looking at him with lips still parted and a gobsmacked expression he changes his mind and lets it out anyway, “wow,” with a giddy grin.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, blinking like he got hit with a cartoon hammer, going from pink to red, and then he swoops in and kisses Bucky’s cheek, and then stands, going, “Excuse me, just gotta go...out of your sightline, and. Do something cool. And serious. No victory dances.”

…..the next morning…….

Steve could hear Bucky in the shower, sneezing three times, but not sounding—four times—nearly as heavy or exhausted as the night before. A few minutes and one loud noseblow later, he came out wrapped in a towel, mercilessly bare-chested, his nose bright red but his eyes clear and cheerful. Steve’s attention caught on his chest as his nipples tightened in the relative chill as Bucky said sheepishly, “forgot my clo-hothes—” his voice swooping to a breathy quaver on the last word, “hhh-hh-hehh—EHisSHOooh!” he turned as far away from Steve’s part of the room as possible and sneezed over his shoulder. “Snnfff. Excuse me, sorry.”

“Can I lend you some warmer stuff, just for now while we eat breakfast? There’s no way you’re not still sick,” Steve fussed, forcing himself to round the kitchen island slowly and casually instead of rushing over and wrapping him up in his arms and kissing his red nose that was twitching again. He quelled it with another sniff that sounded a lot less congested than the previous night.

“Ah, I’m ok. I felt really bad yesterday, but I slept so well,” he said with a warm grateful smile at Steve that went to his toes, “I don’t feel shitty and run-down anymore, just all, like, shnuffly.”

Steve chuckled helplessly and went over to rub his shoulder. “You’re adorable.”

“No way!” Bucky glowered, but then a few drops fell from his wet hair to his chest and neck, and he shivered into a sneeze so quick and light it sounded incomplete, “hih—tish!” followed by “ih-hihtchoo!” and he blinked, taken by surprise.

“That was... the cutest thing that ever happened,” Steve said truthfully.

“Shuddup— heh—edschoo!”

#at some point they bone and there are like snapshots of that written #just sayin #snz fic #stucky snz fic #sneeze kink fanfiction #cute sick bucky #snzfic #lots of not-snz plot but the story is still basically Bucky Has The Sneezies You Must Save Him Steve

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junosmindpalace · 3 months ago

Note

Hey! I'm a long time reader of yours. I'm finding myself real down on my luck lately, and life has been kicking my ass (medical school, and this flu season amongst other things). May I request headcanons of Gen or Ukyo taking care of a sick reader?

hello hello!! i’m very grateful that you’ve stuck around and enjoy my writing! i’m so sorry to hear life hasn’t been treating you so good, and i hope things pick up for you soon :(

gen or ukyo…why not both!

GEN ASAGIRI

Depending on the severity of your sickness, Gen may initially be a little reluctant to be around you.

He’s a bit of a drama queen, swooning over how sad it is that you’re in such a state, worrying about whether or not he’ll catch anything from you, teasing that he should keep his distance.

Yet when your unimpressed features finally send the messages that his jokes and attitudes weren’t all that funny, he sobers up and truly is one of the most committed to looking after you out of everyone in the camp.

He truly and honestly worries about you; he hates seeing you in such distress, and though subconsciously he may also want to save his own skin and comfort by averting his eyes, he forces himself to stay by you for both your sakes.

Especially if your sickness is something that can evolve to be life threatening, he’ll stay by your bedroll all night if it means giving himself some peace of mind.

He acts as a messenger between you and the rest of the Kingdom of Science. Anything you want or need, Gen is immediately out to ask someone to bring it over, or he’s going off to retrieve it himself.

He brings meals to your bed(roll) and insists he feeds you, even when you tell him he doesn’t need to.

He’s surprisingly diligent and mindful of your body; he thinks to put a soothing cloth on your skin for some relief, and takes care to change it regularly. He’s quiet when he moves around, so as to not disturb you while you attempt to rest and dull the ache in your head.

When you’re up for it, Gen most likes to talk you out of hyper fixating on your pain. He’ll complain about people and complain about tasks they force him to undertake, always in a theatrical way that makes you chuckle, which reassures him greatly.

Sometimes he may even pull out some of his magic tricks to amuse you. If not tricks, then regular games of cards and showcases of all the flowers he managed to find and pick and preserve.

Most of the time when he’s in your company, however, he’s trying to busy himself one way or another. Sitting and staring at your weakening state for too long makes him nervous. He feels the need to pace, to do something.

Overall, tries to continue acting like his arrogant self, but his actions give away his concern, and he’s more than relieved when you recover from your ailment.

UKYO SAIONJI

Ukyo, in many ways, is incredibly similar to Gen, just without the arrogance and dramatics and more concern instead.

It’s hard for him to hide behind a smile like Gen does, however; when it comes to you, his emotions are kind of plain to see, almost impossible to hide. He’ll give you reassuring squeezes of the hand or shoulder, laugh with you and offer all his support, but you can tell the whole thing makes him uneasy, and when he isn’t wearing a smile for your sake, he’s silently grieving your condition (especially if it appears life threatening).

So you’ll both need some comforting, perhaps a squeeze of his shoulder in order to get his tension to diffuse just the slightest bit. But Ukyo is always there to pull you out of your misery with reassurances that the sickness won’t last forever, and that you’ll recover soon enough, reborn into a stronger body (and mind).

In the meantime, he does what he can for you. He takes over your chores, brings you your meals, and stands by you with his bow at night; just in case.

Conversation is the main way he attempts to get your mind off your sickness. Talking about himself, updating you on the day’s happenings, asking questions about you and the things you like--anything and everything if it means keeping you as spirited as possible. It’s also a subconscious reassurance for himself that you show potential in recovery.

He also works closely beside Senku and the other villagers who closely monitor your condition and attempt to help you recover through whatever means they can think up (or invent). Though he may not know all the science behind the recovery methods, he’ll recommend remedies from his own experience and ask questions as to what he can do in order to best support you.

When you do eventually recover, he’s just as bright and cheery (and perhaps even relieved) as you are, though he may remain a little more protective of you than normal, not wanting you to contract a similar ailment.

#school has also been kicking me in the butt too </3 #picked the worst year to crash out #so we are in this together #dr stone oneshots #dr stone x reader #dr stone fluff #dcst x reader #dcst oneshots #dcst fluff #gen asagiri x reader #gen asagiri fluff #gen asagiri oneshots #ukyo saionji x reader #ukyo saionji fluff #ukyo saionji headcanons #dr stone headcanons #dcst headcanons

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sim0nril3y · 1 year ago

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Hi ! I really like the series you wrote ! Can I request something? If not thats fine! If yes thank you! so.. what if civilian is a sleep deprived person?

Note: thank youuuuuu for your require, love. I hope this was the type of thing that you were looking for <3 Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, talk of sleep struggles, canon-typical swearing.

There were just times when sleep wouldn’t come. No matter how hard that you tried. No matter how many home remedies you attempted. Whether you listened to relaxing music, or white noise, or rain sounds, or really anything sleep just seemed to evade you. It was like this endless cycle of laying on bed wishing to sleep, then become anxious that you couldn’t sleep, then reminding yourself that morning would soon come and you needed to sleep and then back around to wishing for sleep again.

It certainly didn’t help that from beside you Simon seemed to sleep like a log, snoring, drooling and all the good stuff, if you didn’t love him so much, you’d hate him for how easily he seemed to sleep. Simon had once explained that he caught up on most of his sleep when he was home with you. Similar to you sleep evaded him when he was away from home.

Raising up from the bed as you were unable to take another moment of overthinking your position of not being able to sleep. Entering the lounge, you turned on the TV and set the volume low, watching endless JML adverts for surprising useful useless products. Honestly, you’d seen the mop advertised so many times now you were half convinced to buy it so that they would maybe show it less…

“Couldn’t sleep again?” The tired voice of Simon asked then, stepping into the lounge whilst rubbing his eyes tiredly. “No, but you go to bed…” You assured him and frowned a little as he moved to sit down beside you. “Do you want me to heat you up some milk, love?” Simon quizzed, placing an arm around your shoulders to tug you into his side.

“No.” You replied. “I just want to sleep.” You let out a sad noise of frustration and Simon frowned to himself. “I know.” He whispered, gently trailing his fingers up and down your arm, trying to coax you to relax. “What do you need me to do?” For a moment or two you just remained quiet. “Do me a favour, babe… close your eyes for me.”

You huffed. “It isn’t going to work.” There was clear frustration to your voice. “Oi, just… close your eyes. Yeah? It doesn’t matter if it don’t work, just you closing your eyes with a clear mind is enough for now…” Allowing your eyes to flutter closed Simon manoeuvred you so that he was laying across the sofa and you were placed between his legs with your back against him. “Your eyes closed?”

“Yes.” You answered shortly. “Good.” Gently his coarse fingers began to trail over your body, gently kissing the shell of your ear. “Clear your mind, babe… Just focus on right now… Just focus on right here. Me and you.” The feel of his fingers trailing up your arms, the feel of the steady beat of his heart. “You need to stop putting so much pressure on yourself to sleep. Alright?” Pressing another kiss to your temple. “Sleep is something you need. Sleep is something you deserve.”

It was weird because Simon’s words were making you feel heavy, they were making you feel sleepy, but what if… what if he didn’t work and what if he got mad? Oh shit, you were overthinking things again. “Oi.” His voice was soft, as if sensing you beginning to grow anxious again. “Stop thinking. Clear your pretty head.” Simon coaxed, pressing another kiss to the side of your head.

A few more moments passed and you really tried your best to clear your mind, trying your best to follow his quiet commands and a second later you opened your eyes in surprise, looking at the clock to see that 20 minutes had passed. “Fuck…” You muttered under your breath. “S’okay.” Simon whispered from behind you, fighting sleep himself. “Close your eyes f’me. Let’s try again.”

Masterlist | Ask | 10-12-2023

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cloudzzcore · 9 months ago

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Adam and Lucifer with a child’s entertainer!gn!reader as Lover headcanons!!

Warnings: None really but Readers in a group of entertainers inspired by the wiggles so I’m just calling the group “Whimsy Wonders” to keep it

simple.

Adam first! (Get it bc he’s the first man-)

When he found out that you were in that wiggles rip off of a music group he was lowkey surprised and found it HILARIOUS.

The group name did NOT help in the long run.

“The fuck kind of name is Whimsy Wonders?!” Adam’s laughter rang out as he had a hand on his forehead. You were mildly offended and a bit, “Hey, I didn’t choose the name! I’m just working in the group!” You say, Crossing your arms with a pout. “What’s your groups main song? Wait- wait lemme guess!”

You really had to hold back the urge to just walk away from Adam, He hated when you would do that.

Although he may tease you about it, he’s very supportive of your work and helps you get ready before showtime.

“You can do it babe! Show those crotch goblins a real fuckin’ show!” Adam cheered as you put on your signature (f/c) shirt. “Adam, just call them kids. They’re wonderful anyways, they’re angels.” You say as you reach for your ear piece. “Don’t even think about it.” You quickly scolded as Adam quickly put his hand back. Damn how did you always know when he’d try to slap your ass??

Overall he’d tease but still let you have fun, and hey at least you could handle kids.

He wasn’t trusted with babysitting. Or anything with kids really.

——

Now Lucifer!

Now Lucifer on the other hand, He knows the struggle of having a kid and you performing for hundreds of them as a regular thing is probably one of the many things he adores about you.

He’d definitely watch you and group rehearse and probably have all the songs memorized.

“Hear the drumbeat.. Hear the guitar.. when you dance this way. you do the shimmy shake..” Lucifer mumbled as he was working on a rubber duck, One of the Whimsy Wonders DVDs running on the dvd player in the background, One of Lucifer’s favorites. “Shimmy Shake” he honestly know how it was his favorite. It was just stuck in his head. Tapping his foot to the melody under the beat, Charlie was walking by her father’s bedroom and soon heard the music. “What the-?” She mumbled coming to stop in front of the door. “Isn’t that the Whimsy Wonders?” Charlie thought, Hm. She didn’t know how often Lucifer would listen to this kids band. “Hey dad, can I come in?” Charlie asked with a knock on the door. That knock snapped Lucifer out of his little work induced trance.

Oh fuck someone heard the music–

Lucifer wasn’t embrassed that he was dating a children’s entertainer, but he was embarrassed to seen listening to a kids band music.

Damn that song was stupidly catchy.

You told Lucifer that it was genuinely okay to like any kinds of music, no matter the age demographic.

He dotes on you before showtime early single performance bringing you Lunch after your performance. Helping you get ready to perform, making sure your guitar was ready.

“Luci.. Everything is fine, Showtime is in 20! I have time to sit and not rush.” You try to say as Lucifer was helping you get ready. Making sure your shirt was adjusted for the dozen time. “I-I know that.. I just want you to look your best for those kids..” He mumbled his hand reaching up to hold your cheek. “There’s kids out there who idolize you and.. I just want you to look amazing.” Lucifer added as your gaze softens. “Lucifer.. Everything is gonna be fine. Kids barely care about appearances. But I care about you and your worrying–” You then say before voice over the speaker rang out.

“Showtime is in 2 minutes!”

“Shit! Love you Luci.” You quickly plant a kiss on his lips, Lucifer wish the kiss would linger but it didn’t it was over as quickly as it started.

He couldn’t wait until the show was over.

——

Woah Lucifer’s got a little sad but hey it’s just something short.

Constructive criticism is welcomed!’

— 3/31/2024

#hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #appleradio #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #adam hazbin hotel #adam x reader #adam x you #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader

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cookiescribble · 1 year ago

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Something New

A/N: Someone asked me for a part two of this, and honestly? Don’t have to ask me twice, I’ve been thinking about it a lot 🫶🏻 sorry it took a little more time than I was expecting, we’re going on vacation soon so a lot of our time is being spent preparing for that :) - mod angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Summary: Spencer has been spending a lot of time bonding with his new coworker, and they’re starting to realize that they might have more feelings than they were ready for.

~~~

I was, admittedly, pretty nervous the first time I came over Spencer’s apartment.

I’ve always been a really shy person, and new situations always seemed a little intimidating to me. But Spencer was… different, and that comforted me.

I walked up to his apartment that first day, fidgeting a little as I approached his door. I took a deep breath and knocked lightly.

He answered the door, smiling, gesturing for me to come in.

I smiled and looked around his apartment. I hadn’t known him very long but it seemed very… him. There was a bookshelf against one of the forest green walls that held a large amount of books; if it belonged to anyone besides Spencer, I would’ve doubted all the books had been read. But I guess if you can read as fast as he can, getting through all those books isn’t that big a deal.

He led me to the couch and motioned for me to sit down. He had taken out a DVD set of Star Trek: The Original Series that was sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch.

He took the DVDs and started speaking. “So, I know you said you’ve seen some of TOS, but I figured it would be better to watch it completely through from start to finish.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen any of it,” I replied. “Plus, I always like to watch things fully in order. I can’t just pick up a show in the middle. I have to start at the beginning.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I feel the same way! People have told me it’s not a big deal to start watching a show in the middle, but I could never do that.”

I smiled. “Plus, there’s only 3 seasons of TOS, right? It’s not that hard to get through.” I could feel myself calming down as the conversation seemed to flow easily between us.

“There’s only 79 episodes. It’s really short, considering how many other shows and movies came out of it.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment as he put the DVD in the player. “… I have all the other Star Trek shows and movies too, if you want to watch them.” He cleared his throat and quickly continued, “of course, for now we’ll just stick to this and, um, we don’t even have to finish if you end up changing your mind…”

I shook my head. “No, I want to do this. I think it’ll be fun.” I smiled reassuringly. “Plus, what I have seen I’ve really liked, so I definitely want to watch the whole thing.”

He smiled back at me and sat on the opposite end of the couch. “I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to agree to this. Most people don’t really take my interests seriously…” he admitted, sounding a little sad.

I just shrugged. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I? Why would I come here if I wasn’t interested?”

“I guess that’s true,” he said as he picked up the remote. “… So, are you ready to start?”

I smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready,” I responded before he started playing the first episode.

…

We fell into a regular routine after that first day.

I’d usually come over about once a week. We’d always start with Spencer recapping the last episodes we watched, recalling them in perfect detail so I could remember exactly what happened.

I really liked watching the show with him. A lot of times, he’d get really excited and talk during the episodes. He’d always apologize when I asked him to rewind so I could catch what I missed while he was talking, but I always told him I didn’t mind. And I really didn’t, I loved listening to him talk. He always had something interesting to say.

I found myself starting to watch him more than I watched the show. I was trying really hard not to admit it to myself, but I was really starting to feel something between us. I’d noticed the way we both started to get comfortable with each other as time went on, and how we started to sit closer to each other every time we hung out. I felt some kind of… spark, whenever I was with him.

I tried to ignore this feeling, but it was getting more and more difficult. I felt so happy to see him all the time; hanging out with him felt like the highlight of my week. I looked forward to it for days, and I couldn’t help but think of how much I wanted to be alone with him when I saw him at work.

But I kept this all to myself. It was just a silly crush, and I didn’t even know if he had feelings like that. Plus, there’s no way I could have a crush on a coworker. That could never work out well.

Right?

… (POV change)

Spencer wasn’t used to spending so much time with someone. Sure, he talked with his coworkers every day, but it wasn’t the same. No one shared interests with him like this.

Since this was all new to him, he figured these feelings he was having were just normal when you made a new friend. This certain fondness he was feeling that he had never felt before now.

But as time went on, and he kept spending more time with them, he was starting to suspect he was feeling a little more than friendly with them. He started spending a lot of time wishing they would hang out more. Eventually, he couldn’t help it, and asked them to come over even if he’d already seen them that week. He’d say it was because he wanted to keep watching the show, but really he was just excited to see them.

Eventually, he couldn’t deny the feelings he had for them anymore.

There was one day they came over, after there had been a particularly exhausting case. It just so happened to end on the day they had both been reserving to watch the show together. Spencer offered to switch the days and let them catch up on sleep, but they insisted that they still wanted to come over.

It wasn’t a problem for a while, but eventually, as Spencer was talking, they stopped replying to him. He looked over to see they had fallen asleep curled up on the couch.

He just stared at them for a few moments before pausing the show, not wanting them to miss what was happening. He wasn’t sure what to do; he didn’t want to wake them up because they looked so peaceful. They looked… really cute…

He shook his head as if trying to shake the thought out of his mind. He stood up, getting a throw blanket and gently placing it over them, careful to not wake them up.

He walked to the kitchen, figuring he’d make something to eat in case they were hungry when they woke up. Really, he just needed an excuse to not be near them right now. It was taking every ounce of his willpower not to slip his arm around them and let them sleep on him.

He tried not to let his mind wander as he made dinner, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop thinking about them.

He kept trying to rationalize his thoughts, like he always did. It had never been a problem before; he had always been a logical person, so it had never been difficult to keep his thoughts in check. Until now.

He knew that he shouldn’t have feelings for a coworker. It just wasn’t professional. And besides, they probably didn’t feel the same way about him. No one ever had. It was new to him just to have someone willing to share his interests. Their feelings probably ended there: he was just a new friend to them.

Although… there have been multiple occasions where he thought he saw them sneaking glances at him. And the way they looked at him, he thought that maybe they were starting to have feelings for him too…

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice them waking up and walking into the kitchen until they spoke to him.

“Hey…” they started. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was falling asleep.”

Spencer jumped a little before turning to look at them. They still had the blanket wrapped around their shoulders. They looked really comfortable that way. And the sleepy tone in their voice…

He cleared his throat. “That’s okay. We had a pretty tiring few days with that case, so I figured I’d just let you sleep. You seemed like you needed it.”

They smiled sleepily. “Yeah, I guess I did.” They turned their attention to the kitchen counter. “You made dinner? Was I asleep that long?”

He shook his head. “You weren’t out for too long, but I figured you might be hungry when you woke up, so…” He trailed off, blushing a bit.

They smiled. “Thank you. I am actually pretty hungry.” They hugged the blanket a little closer to them, rubbing their eyes a bit.

Spencer turned around and grabbed two plates, carrying them to the coffee table in the living room. They followed him and sat down on the couch, moving the blanket so it was laying across their lap.

They ate in silence, the show playing on the TV in front of them, though they both seemed to have trouble paying attention to it.

After a few more episodes, it was time to leave. Spencer took the blanket when they handed it to him, putting it back where it was before.

He walked to the door with them, like he always did. Today, though, they lingered in the doorway a little longer. Maybe it was the tiredness, or maybe they just finally found the courage they’d been looking for all this time.

“Um…” they started, looking a little nervous. “Thank you for making dinner tonight. That was really nice.”

He smiled warmly at them. “Oh, it was no problem, really. I was hungry too,” he laughed awkwardly.

They smiled a bit, but they had a concentrated look on their face. “Well, uh, I was wondering… Maybe one day you’d like to… go out to dinner?” They took a deep breath before continuing quietly. “Like… as a date?”

He blushed and smiled, all the thoughts of doubt he’d been having earlier thrown out the window. “Yeah, I... I’d really like that.” He tried to sound calm, but it was clear he was really excited about it.

They smiled back at him, the nervousness gone as they realized he was just as happy about it as they were. “Okay. It’s a date, then.”

They said their goodbyes, both of them unable to stop smiling as they thought about what their future together would hold.

#i hope the pov change doesn't read too awkwardly. it's just what was in my head so i wanted to write it that way #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x male!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #fanfiction #mod angel

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idk6123 · 7 months ago

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An Arranged Marriage For The Richest (Derby Harrington X Male Reader)

Derby life’s goal is to follow his father’s footstep and become as successful as him. Being the heir of an oil digging made his life so much easier. Being the richest of the rich. Buying expensive things a regular person needs to work for in a year or two. That is his life, and it’s all thanks to his father. Because of that, he listens to him dearly, to the point of choosing his future partner, which is Pinky, his cousin. Other people find it weird, but he doesn’t mind it. He does mind how much attention she seeks of him. To his luck, he got a better offer.

“You wish to speak to me, father?”

“Yes.” Inside of his office, Mr. Harrington sits behind his desk while addressing the issue. “I know you got an arranged marriage with your cousin, Pinky. However, we have to cancel that deal, because I found a better offer.”

Derby looks surprised. “Who is it?”

“It’s our rival, Mendez. With this deal, we can fuse the two biggest oil companies in America to become the number one in the world.” Mr. Harrington sounds excited with the plan. “We have dinner with them this Saturday, where you meet your future spouse. That being said, Mendez’s heir is a son as well, so you will be marrying a man, but I don’t expect that being a problem.”

“Of course not.” Derby honestly doesn’t care if he needs to marry off a guy or a girl. All he just wants to do is making his father proud. “Won’t that be a problem with your friends? Your son marrying another man?”

“They have nothing to complain about when we have twice amount the money.” Mr. Harrington assures. “His name is Y/N Mendez, remember that. Make sure to treat him like a gentleman.”

“Of course, father.”

With their fancy clothes on, Derby and his father are being driven by their personal chauffeur towards the Mendez’s mansion. It’s around the size of their own, with a gorgeous, well taken care garden. After they parked the car, they get to the gate and grants access to come in. Once at the door, they get greeted by the rich family.

“Mr. Harrington. It’s a pleasure allowing you to come in our house.” Mr. Mendez greets him with an arm. His wife is next to him. “And it’s an honor meeting you, Derby Harrington.”

After fancy introductions, they get in the mansion, seeing the grand entrance of the building. The guests put their jackets away and follow the couple to the dining room. Once there, they see their son.

“Y/N, this is Mr. Harrington, and his son, Derby Harrington.”

“Pleasure meeting you.” Y/N shakes both of their hands.

“Like wise.” Derby says with a handsome smile.

After some talking, the five of them sit down at the large dining table. Maids and butlers set down the plates of food that is freshly prepared from the chefs. As they begin eating their fancy food, the five of them chat, mostly about business stuff. Though since both teens doesn’t have much experience with it, they barely talk. That’s why Y/N begins to talk to his future husband.

“Where do you go to school?”

“Bullworth Academy. What about you?”

“Redwood Academy.” Y/N responds. “Isn’t Bullworth that school filled with psychos?”

“Sadly, yes.” Derby replies with a chuckle. “We have poor, poorer, and poorest. Brainless monkey’s without brains and nerds without any spine. I’m lucky I got 8 fellow preps that makes the school less horrible.”

“Sounds rough. My school isn’t any better.” Y/N smiles as well. “We have punks that don’t bother showering. Goths and theater kids that seeks attention. Teens addicted to drugs. It’s honestly sad that schools nowadays allow people like that on their ground.”

“I wholeheartedly agree. How about hobbies?”

“Swimming, poker, martial art. I’m considering shooting in the future.”

“Looks like we got the same interests as well.” The blonde says with a smirk. “I’m more of the art of boxing myself. It’s something my group takes pride in. My dearest friend, Bif, managed to secure us countless trophies.”

“Sounds like you’re real close with your friends. I’m guessing you’re their leader?”

“That is a good guess.” Derby complements him. “Let me take a guess as well. You’re one as well?”

“Of course. I’m inheriting my father’s company. I need to prove myself and others I can be a leader.”

Derby can share the same settlement. He didn’t expect connecting with his future husband this well. Pinky, for example, he finds her just annoying and demanding. Y/N, however, is someone he can relate to, and thus respect. He’s glad his father got this deal, because he would rather spent his future with someone like Y/N instead of Pinky.

Ever since that day, the two continue to get to know each other. Mostly by their parents setting up dinner parties and other events. Though they do meet up unofficially after school. They have been going steady, to the point Derby wants Y/N to meet his best friend, Bif.

“I didn’t know you liked the gents.”

“I blame Pinky for that.” Derby says with a chuckle. “Besides, if it’s an arranged marriage with someone’s son that owns another oil company. Luckily for me, he isn’t annoying.”

“Sounds like true love.” Bif sarcastically comments. “Don’t you think you should’ve describe him on what you like about him, or his personality.”

“I like about him that he isn’t annoying.”

Bif sighs, but smiles. “I would love to meet him.”

“Good. I bring him at the gym after school. Make sure not to be drenched in sweat.”

Bif leans against the ring as he awaits for his friend. As he looks at the entrance, he spots the blonde walking in, holding Y/N’s hand. Bif stands up and walks over to them.

“Bif, this is Y/N, my fiancé. Y/N, this is my best friend, Y/N.”

“It’s great to meet you. Derby told a lot about you.”

“I can say the same.” Bif makes sure to not mention about Derby’s comment about Y/N not being irritating. “Fiancé, huh? So it’s set in stone.”

“Well, there are some stuff our parents need to figure out, but I have zero doubts that won’t work out.” Derby says with a smile to his boyfriend.

“We hope to get wed after we graduate. Our plans are to study about running a company, but once that done, we’re CEO’s of the biggest oil company in the world.” Y/N says with a proud smile.

“Now we have to take care of Saudi Arabia and Chine, but let’s be honest, it’s only inevitable we have a war with them.” Derby adds.

“Which brings more profit.” Y/N also adds.

Bif can tell they’re meant to be together. “You two will be a great couple.”

“Thank you.” Derby replies. “Of course you will be invited to the wedding, as well the rest of the group.”

“Hey, how about we ask Bif for advice?”

“Hm? What can I do?”

Y/N looks back at him. “We’re discussing where to hold our marriage. We’re thinking about Paris, New York City, London-”

Bif continues to hear Y/N rambling about the most expensive wedding revenues with tens of options.

Months has passed, and the marriage is about to begin. They finally settle it down at The Biltmore Estate in North Carolina. It’s a bit smaller than they wanted it to be, but it’s good enough. Inside of the large mansion, Derby awaits in his room as he looks at himself through the mirror. Besides him is Bif, also wearing a tux.

“You look fine.”

“I don’t want to look fine. I want to look perfect.” Derby looks at himself with paranoia. “I feel like something is off. Suit fits perfectly… hair is well done…” He mutters to himself as he goes from one thing to another. “Face looks handsome…”

“You’re just nervous.”

“I’m not.” Derby assures. He turns around and looks at his back.

“Yes, you are.” Bif grabs his friend’s shoulder, forcing him to look at him. “You’re just about the marry the guy you love and spend the entire life with. This is natural. My dad felt the same way before the divorce.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. I’m beyond happy this is happening.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be nervous.” Derby remains quiet. “Look, you look perfect. Even without your tux, you do. I know. I talked plenty of times with Y/N. He loves you, a lot. He’s like another version of you.”

Derby smiles after feeling stressed. “He’s probably stressing about this too.”

“I would bet on it. Now, let’s calm down and prepare your speech.”

Soon the marriage starts. There was a major discussion between the two family who is the man in the relationship and after a while, Derby and Y/N stepped in that they both will be. So, they stand at the altar. Derby stands with his father and his best friend, and Y/N has the same at his side. Between them is the marriage officiant, who had a speech to address the merry couple. In the audience, there are friends of both spouses, as well their father’s coworkers and friends. Some of them are more… traditional to say the least, but the fathers still thought it was a good idea to invite them just to see the look of their faces when they see one of the biggest companies in the country fusing together.

After the speech, it’s time to have both spouses to say their vows, starting with Y/N.

“I know it isn’t a long time since we met, but ever since that dinner party, I had a gut feeling you are the one. And standing here today, that gut feeling isn’t just a feeling, it’s a fact. I’m glad I’m going to spend my entire life with someone that I can relate to. Someone ambitious, strong, smart and kind. I’m inspired by you and have the motivation to make this marriage better one day after another, as well our future companies, as CEO’s.”

Then it’s Derby’s turn. “I have to say, you took the words right from the mouth. The first day we met, I know we end up together. And like you said, we’re perfect. In general and together. As a Harrington, it’s an honor to marry a Mendez. Not just as a company, but also as life partners. I make sure to treat you well, and when the time comes, make sure to stand by your side when things get tough, as you will do with me.”

And so, the rings get passed. Each spouse having the same kind of expensive diamond ring to give each other. When done, they look at each other with a smile.

“I, Derby Harrington, take me Y/N Mendez as my lawfully wedded husband in sickness and in health till death parts us.”

“I, Y/N Mendez, take me Derby Harrington as my lawfully wedded husband in sickness and in health till death parts us.”

“May you know kiss the groom.”

And so, the two are officially husband and husband, with the entire room clapping. In the audience, the preps are beyond happy for their leader.

“They’re so perfect…” Gord begins to tear up. “They’re the IT couple.”

“May our- I mean mine wedding be like this.” Chad reacts with awe.

“They better not divorce like their parents.” Bryce points out.

Everyone is beyond happy, except Pinky, who’s feeling salty. “This could’ve been mine wedding!”

#bully #bully x male reader #bully canis canem edit #bully scholarship edition #derby harrington #derby harrington x male reader

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starryjkoo · 1 year ago

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This might be a controversial opinion but some of y’all need to learn to pick your battles and stop chasing the validation of PJMs and JJKs. Who cares if JJKs are hyping some fictional friendship and writing fanfictions because Jungkook stood next to some random dude twice? Who cares if solo fanbases crop out and don’t post the whole picture (that no one should be reposting btw)? Who cares if PJMs and JJKs don’t acknowledge their friendship? As long as they aren’t dragging Jimin or JK, or even overtly saying anything negative about their bond, literally why do some of you guys care what solos of all people think?

It’s odd to me that some jkkrs will go into solo spaces and then try to get them to acknowledge a member you know they hate and regularly drag. What are you expecting to happen? JJKs actually not mentioning or paying attention to JM is literally the best case scenario. I absolutely wish they would never look at him or talk about him or post anything about him ever again. I literally don’t care if they think JK loves random solider #2 or Mingyu or an inanimate object more than he loves JM and neither should you. They are NEVER going to acknowledge Jikook’s friendship, so stop expecting them to. That is literally one of the least offensive things I’ve seen them do this week alone and it doesn’t actually hurt Jimin or JK, it’s just annoying.

100% make fun of them in your own spaces for being so lame and immature about Jikook enlisting together, they ARE super weird for hyping up this random friendship they suddenly invented (and yes I know they were likely doing it on purpose), it IS really frustrating and sad how dismissive so many people are about Jikook -- but I still don’t understand what some jkkrs were expecting. I sincerely hope that whenever the Jikook travel show drops they keep cropping them out and pretending they’re besties with random bartenders and camera men because the alternative is them dragging JM and JK and their entire bond nonstop. Solos are NEVER going to acknowledge their friendship and I wonder why some jkkrs seem to want them to so bad? You are CHOOSING to go into their spaces and be annoyed that these people who call JM slurs and animal names on the regular don’t want to acknowledge his friendship with JK - and some of you are literally antagonizing these people you KNOW have no morals over something like this.

This whole issue snowballed because so many people are bored and miserable right now and tkkrs especially are looking for a fight ever since Jikook enlisted together (or honestly probably since Tokyo). I see how jkkrs can make an innocent post and get jumped and tkkrs can say the most heinous shit about JM and jkk imaginable and get away with it -- but if you’re active online you should know how it is and learn to pick your battles if you actually care about the people you stan. There was no reason for JM or JK to get dragged over something like this.

Anyways this isn’t the end of the world or anything, but I did watch this whole unnecessary drama unfold and opened my twitter account this morning to see report accounts STILL trying to clean it up, so I wanted to rant a bit. I’m sure the Jikook show will unleash the most heinous discourse imaginable so I’m saving my energy for that. Obviously people can do whatever they want, and I’m not saying jkkrs shouldn’t rant or be upset about it in their own spaces, I was just surprised by some of the reactions. Jikook enlisting together makes it obvious to anyone with a brain how close they are, that’s why the people who hate them are being especially weird and petty and obnoxious. JJKs were writing about how JK tattooed ARMY on his knuckles because he knows ARMYs hurt him or whatever just the other day so idk why some jkkrs were expecting them to suddenly celebrate his friendship with JM who they literally hate more than anyone else.

#jikook #sorry to bring twitter discourse here #again 😣#but every now and then #i need a good rant #because i wasn't seeing enough people calling this out #and if it doesn't apply to you #it doesn't apply to you #i know it's not all or even most #but enough i wanted to make a point #discourse

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whiskeynwriting · 2 years ago

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MBFD - Chapter Ten: Even When Apart

Dave York x Female Reader

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Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Mentions of separation/divorce, reader descriptions, dirty talk, sexting, male masturbation, spanking, praise kink, mentions of oral (m and f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex.

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A/N: soooo we planned out this chapter a hot minute ago, and expected it to be way longer. But I hope you enjoy it anyway my babies <3 I feel like having 14k chapters and then 6k chapters is a running theme in this series lmao

Also, sorry for the late post lovelies. But if you know me, you should know it’s a regular thing 😂😭

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My Best Friend’s Dad Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

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“John,” He nods, walking down the hall. Just barely, the coffee in his to-go cup swishes inside, the contents still boiling.

His coworker returns the friendly gesture with a smile on his face, asking briefly, “Dave, how’re the kids?”

All he does is shrug, putting on a brave face. “Can’t complain.” But that’s the end of it.

As he expected, life’s been shit since you left again. But he understands, he can’t exactly live at your apartment forever. At least, not yet. He has considered it, though. Over the past few days, he’s been researching homes, mainly condos and townhouses. It’s not likely that he’ll be sharing a home with Carol and his daughters for much longer, and maybe you’d be willing to move with him. But Dave’s waiting to bring all of this up. He thinks it will be best to do so toward the end of your trip. Which is in about… shit, three days. He can’t fucking wait.

David is well aware that he’s living in a fantasy land. The two of you living together? Officially? It blows his mind to even think about it. At that point, Molly would have to know. There’d be no hiding it. But for now, he’s ignoring all of that. He’s choosing to bask in the peace you bring him.

Settling in at his desk, he releases a heavy breath. Honestly, he doesn’t need to be here this early - he hasn’t needed to stay so late, either. But it gives him time away from the anxiety surrounding his family, and in turn, helps him relax. He’s good at his job and truthfully, figuring out how to quietly and expertly remove people from their own lives is easier than dealing with his current familial stress. It does, however, have one downside. It takes time away from you.

“Oooh, who misses you?”

Immediately, you’re snatching your phone out of Angela’s hand, staring down at the screen to see the text Dave sent. Eyes widening, you feel a sense of heat run through your cheeks, and Molly notices, too.

“It’s probably just Anthony.” Rolling her eyes, she moves into her next stretch, preparing for today’s warm-ups.

“No, it’s not. I told you I’m done talking to him.” Trying to dull your annoyance, you turn back to your screen, smirking ever so slightly. He misses me?

Frowning, Molly leans upright once again. “Well then who the hell is it?”

The quiet that follows seems to infuriate your closest friend, because she’s immediately trotting over to snatch your phone from your hand.

“Molly!”

“Miss you, princess.” She reads out loud, raising a brow. “How come I don’t know about this?” It’s easy to see now that Molly isn’t angry, she’s sad. She assumed you’d tell her about your next relationship. And all at once, the guilt you’d been pushing down for weeks bubbles into your throat again.

“I, well, I just… I’m…”

“That’s funny,” She cuts in, staring at the screen. “My dad’s name is Dave.”

At first, you feel like an idiot. You really couldn't have changed his name? But as soon as Molly starts giggling, you release all your anxieties in one breath.

“That’s so weird, is he my dad’s age, too?” She jokes, tossing your phone back to you while returning to her position.

Chewing on the corner of your lip, you close your phone, shoving it into your backpack. “Maybe.”

“Wait, really?” Spinning on her heels, she darts back over, sitting on the floor in front of you. And a few other girls scooch in, too.

“Of course you’d be the one to go for older men.” Nora chimes in, causing you to turn your head.

“What? Why?”

“Maybe it is Molly’s dad.” And now, everyone is turning to Lexi. “What? It could be!”

“Yeah, right.” Molly snorts, rolling her eyes. “Like that would ever happen.”

“It’s not her dad!” God damn, this is frustrating.

“Whatever,” Molly groans, patting her hand on your knee. “Just tell us about him!”

Side-eyeing her, you grin, quickly glancing down at your hands. You almost can’t keep it in, your relationship with him. Not when everyone is so eager to know. Hell, you can do this, you can still keep this a secret.

“Well… he is older. And, I don’t know… we’re still kind of… new.”

“Have you said I love you?”

“Well, yeah…”

“Awe! Wait, who said it first?” The girls seem ecstatic, but you can tell Molly is still pretty hurt.

“Um… he did.” Your heart beats a little harder, thinking back to that night.

“So it’s definitely not new.” Lexi adds with a few of your girls agreeing.

“So, his name is Dave?” Molly inquires further, trying to ask the important questions. If you’re telling this guy that you love him, she should know more about him. “How did you guys meet?”

“Oh my gosh, what does he look like?!” Angela unexpectedly butts in.

“We have a… a mutual… friend.” It’s all you could come up with. “And he’s tall, way taller than me. He has light brown hair and dark brown eyes…” Trailing off, you find yourself caught up in the thought of him. “He’s pretty strong…”

“You said he’s older, right?”

“Mhm,” Nodding, you shake yourself out of your thoughts. You just had an overnight trip with him not too long ago, you should be able to focus on your personal life.

“Does he have a dad bod?” She’s grinning wildly, and now, every head is turned toward you. “Is he big?”

“Angela!” You scoff, still smiling. “Yeah, he has a dad bod…” Replying with a laugh, you turn away.

“And?”

Raising a brow, you turn to face your teammates. “You think I’d be with him if he wasn’t big?”

Everyone is giggling like little school girls, but Molly still can’t shake the feeling of being lied to. Why haven’t you told her about this? Are you not as close as she thought?

“Go stretch!” You demand with a grin, shaking them off. “We have warm-ups in ten.”

On the other side of town, Dave smiles down at his phone. Once you’d gotten a moment to yourself, you responded to him. I miss you too.

He hasn’t seen your pretty face in days, not in person, at least. But he’s been thanking the lord for SnapIt. Wait, no… Snapchat? Whatever it is, it’s been his only way of actually seeing you. At home and in the office, he can forget about personal calls and video chats. But cute selfies and quick videos easily make up for all of that.

“Jesus,” Giving his head a quick shake, he sighs, staring down at the video you just sent.

You’re in the bathroom, the camera fixed on your reflection in the mirror. That smile lights up his entire life, and prompts his own to form, too. And while the short clip might seem sweet, it’s less than innocent. What you’re wearing immediately sets him off.

“Remember this, daddy?” Comes your cute, girly little voice.

With one hand on your phone, the other finds the edge of your skirt, twirling it slightly. Of course he remembers it, how could he not? The last time he saw you in your cheer outfit was when he came on it.

His response is pretty simple, a picture of his work pants. Well, a specific spot on his work pants. With his hand holding his semi-hard crotch, he captions it with, think I’d ever forget?

“Hey,”

“Shit!” Nearly jumping out of your skin, you turn, seeing Molly. “Oh, h-hey, hey Goof.”

She smiles sheepishly, “Texting Dave?”

For a split second, your eyes widen. But then you remember, she now knows your boyfriend’s name. How… strange.

“Um, yeah.” It comes out as an awkward chuckle, quick to close your phone and put it away.

“I… I was wondering.” Staring at the floor, she swallows, unsure of how to start this conversation. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“About Dave?”

“Yeah.” She nods, finally returning her gaze to you. “Did I, I mean… have I done something wrong?”

“What? No! No, not at all, Molly!”

“It’s just… I don’t know. You’re already saying I love you to each other, and… I just don’t know why you wouldn’t tell me about it.”

Jesus Christ, what the hell are you going to tell her? Is this when it happens? When everything just comes out? When your insides spill out of your mouth like word vomit? Every single secret you’ve been hiding, now rushing to the surface?

“Honestly,” Laughing away your anxieties, you shrug. “I thought you’d think it was… too fast. After Anthony.” Okay, that was good. That was smooth.

“Really?” Raising a brow, she shifts her stance. “I hate that guy. You being with literally anyone else is better than you being with him.”

You chuckle, eyes wandering. Not anyone else.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide things from me.” Shrugging, she steps closer to you. “That’s all.”

Offering your best smile, you wrap her in a big hug. “Thanks, Goof.”

And you want to stay true to your friendship, you don’t want to lie to her. There are days where you’ve thought about the outcome of your secret relationship, and it’s really torn you to pieces. In the end, you figure it’s best if she doesn’t know. Maybe it’s best if she never knows.

A few buzzes from your phone end your brief moment, with Molly now back away. Pulling out your phone, you glance down, watching the screen light up with Dave’s name.

“Well… I guess I’ll let you get back to it.” She chuckles, acknowledging the notifications.

It’s weird, her finally knowing about this. And although she doesn’t know everything about this, her knowing some of it sort of… normalizes it. But you’re not exactly sure that’s a good thing.

Before you can get a response out, she’s walking away. “Tell Dave I say hi.” She grins, shutting the door behind her. Now that comment, makes your insides twist tight.

Doing as he says, you open the app, seeing another notification from him. And inside, you’re already full of butterflies, thinking about what he’s sent.

This time, it’s a video. It starts out in the same position as the photo he sent, directed at his covered lap. But now, his hand is moving, slowly undoing his belt before pulling it open. Thick fingers then move to his zipper, pulling it down to reveal the pretty periwinkle underneath. But then it abruptly ends. Frowning, you close the app to message him, wondering if he’d intended to send more. But just before you can, another video loads.

Groaning, David sighs, pulling himself out of his light purple boxers. He’s red, already dripping down the sag of his foreskin. Pulling it back, you can hear him gasp, a quiet noise as he holds himself in hand.

“I miss you, baby.” His voice is low, but sweet. Gliding his thumb over the tip, he sighs again. “Miss the way you feel around me…”

You’ve already spent at least ten minutes in here, so you’ll need to do this quick. And be creative. It’s not like you can just get naked in the middle of the bathroom, and you definitely don’t have the time for that. But Dave isn’t exactly a hard man to please.

“Fuck me.”

He thought the two of you were just having fun together, sending these messages back and forth. Sure he’d touched himself in a video for you, but he had no real intention of actually getting himself off. That is, until you sent an upskirt picture of yourself to him.

Your cheer uniform is clearly visible, and with your panties tugged to the side, he can see you perfectly. The smooth pinkness of your skin, just barely glistening for him. Jesus, he misses that, misses how it feels and tastes and smells. Fuck, he’ll have to convince you to give him your panties again, especially if you’re not sure when you’ll next see him.

Making sure to screenshot the image, he pulls it up in his photos, no longer having the Snapchat timer on it. Spitting into his palm, he stares at the screen, at the beautiful picture of your sweet, tiny pussy. It’s his, it’s all his, the entirety of your body. Your gorgeous tits and smooth thighs, the plumpness of your ass. All he wants to do is touch you, feel and grab on your most sensitive places. He loves your hips, loves digging his fingers into the thin skin, especially when he’s fucking you. Jesus Christ, it’s all he can think of, bending you over and taking you from behind, fucking you in his car, in the basement lounge of his home, anywhere secluded enough for him to have you.

Tugging on himself, he releases a rough sigh. Even though he has an entire office to himself, he still wants to keep quiet. He has absolutely no idea who could be walking the halls. Truthfully, though, it’s hard to do so when he has a woman half his age sending pictures from between her thighs.

His head tilts back, resting on the upper portion of his chair as he spreads his legs further. Thrusting up into his palm, he gasps, continuously brushing the flat of his thumb over his leaking head. He just loves how you play with it, how you tug his foreskin back to suck and lick on it. The next time he sees you, he’ll demand it, shove you down onto your knees until you’re gagging on him. It’s what he’s wanted for days, it’s what he needs.

Spit isn’t enough to be an adequate lubricant, nowhere near as slick as your cunt. It’s amazing to him, just how slippery you get, just how desperately you want for him. And he knows if you were here, you’d be doing this for him.

Slamming the phone down on his desk, he finds his breaths becoming ragged, using his now free hand to cup his scrotum. He fondles the softness of it, imagining it to be you while he jerks off into his hand. Internally, he’s thinking about your mouth, about the way you swallow him. Even when he cums, you’re sucking it down, urging it to the back of your throat and Christ, just the thought of it is enough for him.

It’s incredible how sensitive he gets, especially when he cums. He has to bite into his lower lip to keep himself at bay, to keep those whimpers from slipping out. Thrusting up into his own hand, he groans, eyes pitching shut with his brows furrowing just above. His mouth hands agape, unable to think about anything other than your pretty face. He can feel it oozing down the side of his hand, seeping into the cracks between each fingers, leaking over his knuckles. He never used to cum so much before you.

“F-Fuck,” He grunts out, eyes shooting open to look down.

Slowing his pace, he takes a breath, staring at his mess. Some of the warm, white goo is on his boxers, even his work pants, too. But he’s not frustrated about that. He’s annoyed about something else entirely.

“Should’ve filmed that.”

It’d be for the best that you accept her offer, you want to reassure her that your friendship is as strong as ever. But you just can’t bring yourself to. Dave’s presence is nowhere in that house, but Carol sure as hell is. She’s always complaining, whether it’s about Dave, or her work, or her friends, it’s always something. It’s never-ending. And you just don’t feel like dealing with that right now.

“I think I’m okay today, but thanks for askin’.” Is your final response, alongside a grateful smile.

“You sure?” Molly inquires, shifting her bag on her shoulder. “You don’t want to hangout today?”

“Not today, babe. But we will sometime this week, I promise.”

Honestly, you’d like to get home and eat. It’s been a long day, with an early practice and then another after your classes. You’ve barely had time for a latte and some crackers, and you’re starting to feel woozy from it.

“I need to get home and eat. Talk to you later!” And with that, you’re hopping in your Jeep.

Some days, it’s easy to get caught up in the world around you. With school and work and cheer and pom, Dave occasionally falls to the wayside. Even though you’ve been missing some classes and practices lately… But while these days come and go, he always wiggles back in somehow. Today had been busy, you weren’t able to respond to him after your flirty morning messages. But now that you’re driving home, finally on your way to relaxation, your head is full of him again.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey!” You’re giddy all over again, just hearing his voice. You’d decided to call instead of text, you missed his voice. “How are you?”

“Tired,” He groans, staring down at the paperwork he’d been tasked with. “How are you?”

“Tired, too. But I'm finally on my way home, think I’ll take a day off tomorrow. This week has been draining me.”

“Just remember, we’ll get a break soon.” Smirking, he traces an imaginary shape onto his desk, sighing.

“What do you mean?”

“Our trip, we’re leaving on Thursday.”

“Holy shit, I completely forgot! Fuck, I need a break.”

“You’ll get one soon, princess.”

The way he says it makes you sigh, releasing the stress of your day. His voice is smooth and reassuring, deep and just a little bit gravely.

“I miss you.”

“I know, honey. But I’ll see you soon.”

“Tonight?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m pretty busy, I’ll probably be home late.”

Immediately, you have the thought of visiting him. You’ve never gone up to his work, you haven’t really had a reason to. But maybe you could surprise him today.

“Okay, babe. Just get some rest, okay?”

“Sure, baby.” He chuckles, checking the time on his wrist. “We can talk more later, okay?”

“Okay,” Pouting, you pull into your parking lot, wishing the call didn’t have to end.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He says it with intention, like he’s apologizing for your time apart.

“I love you, too.” And while your response isn’t said as sweetly, he accepts it, promising to text you soon.

As soon as the call ends, you’re scurrying inside to see what food you have. Instead of just visiting him, you figure you’ll bring him some dinner. He did say he was busy, maybe he hasn’t had the chance to eat yet.

Thinking back to the first time he stayed in your apartment, you remember one of his favorite meals. Easily enough, you find noodles and alfredo sauce in the cupboard, and some frozen chicken in the freezer.

“Who?”

“Dave York… does he, does he not work here?” It’s the third time you’ve had to ask for him, and everyone’s been acting super strange.

“No, he does, he does. I just… are you one of his daughters?” And now, you freeze up. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“I’m… a friend. Can you just tell me where to find him, please?” Did it have to be that big of a deal?

Though, you suppose it should be a big deal. This isn’t just any office, it’s the office for the Central Intelligence Agency. Maybe you should’ve thought this through.

“Sure… just let me give him a call. What was your name?”

Sighing, you hand your ID to the man at the front desk, watching him eye it while picking up the phone. He dials a quick number, Dave’s voice heard on the other end almost immediately.

“Yeah, I’ve got a younger woman here that’s asking for you.”

At this, he sounds flustered, though you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. But then this man is repeating your name, and he goes silent. Shit, is he upset that you’re here? Maybe this was a bad idea. Shit, shit.

“Ma’am?”

“Hm? Yes?” Startled out of your worried haze, the man says, “You can go in. He’s right down that hall, and to your right. Office number twenty-nine.”

Raising your brows, you feel a surge of adrenaline burst inside. “Oh… okay, thank you.”

You’re very suddenly intimidated by your surroundings. Everything looks so… professional, monochrome colors and sleek lines, engraved name cards and security surveillance at every turn. Regardless, you make your way down, albeit with timid steps. And when you’re at his door, you take in a deep breath. Gulping, you lift your hand, knuckles knocking shyly against the door.

“Come in.” His voice is deep, loud, demanding that you enter.

Slowly, you twist the knob, urging the hunk of wood forward. Peaking your head inside, you’re met with an abundance of dark wood and grays. Wooden side tables and shelves, and further in, a dark wooden desk, too.

“H-Hey, hi.” Grinning sheepishly, you fully make your way in, closing the door behind you.

“Hey…” Standing from his desk, you’re not quite sure how to read his expression. Both hands fall to his shirt, fiddling with his buttons. “What…” Walking toward you, he exhales a nervous breath. “What’re you doing here?”

“I, well…” Lifting the tupperware in your hand, you glance down, explaining, “I wanted to bring you dinner.”

As soon as he sees it, his eyes are wide, lips parting slightly. “You… brought me dinner?”

“Mhm, I made it. It’s chicken alfredo, I… I thought you’d like it.”

“Baby,” And the way he says it prompts your eyes to return to him. “Thank you.”

He takes the container so gingerly that you’d assume it was glass if you didn’t already know better. Spinning on his heels, he sets it on his desk, just as quickly turning back to you.

“Oh!”

“Thank you, baby.” Reaching out, he pulls you tightly into his arms, heart beating out of his chest. You can feel it against your own, your hands sliding up to wrap around his neck.

“Of course,” You’re flush from his reaction, beyond happy to see him this way. “I’m so glad you’re happy to see me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asks, loosening his grip to kiss your forehead. And then he’s turning, walking back to his desk.

“I don’t know, I’ve just never been here before and I got… nervous.”

“You’re cute when you’re nervous.” He’s chuckling, opening up the container and grabbing the silverware you brought with it.

Slinking into one of the chairs before his desk, you grin, watching him dig in. And in this brief lull, you take a look around his office, having wondered what it’d be like in here. All the lights are warm-toned, his shelves full of novels and his desk incredibly clean. Usually though, it’s quite messy. He’s lucky his secretary called first, it gave him time to hide a few things before you came in.

“Did you eat?”

“Yeah, I ate at home. Don’t worry about me.”

All he can do is stop and stare at you, smiling sweetly. No one’s ever been so thoughtful toward him before. In all their years of marriage, Carol never thought to do this. And if she did, she never followed through on it.

“You’re so sweet, honey.”

“Yeah well I try.” You respond, rolling your eyes with a grin.

With an ounce of confidence, you stand, making your way behind his desk. Wrapping your arms around him from behind his chair, you lean down, kissing his cheek.

“I was a little bit nervous, if I’m being honest.”

“Why?”

“Well, everyone knows I’m married, baby.” He laughs, thinking that was obvious. “And now I have some young girl bringing me food.”

Shrugging, you grin. “Maybe they’ll be impressed.”

Setting down his fork, he grins, turning a bit. “C’mere.” Grabbing hold of your hips, he pulls you into his lap, your back pressing against his chest. “I’m impressed.”

“With what?” You giggle, feeling his lips dragging over your neck.

“How caring you are, baby.” Kissing your neck, he grins, hands unwilling to move from your hips. “I’m lucky to have you.”

Tilting your head back onto his shoulder, you sigh. “I’ve missed this.”

“I know…” Dave groans, “I can’t wait to take you on this trip, do whatever I want with you for days.”

“You could do whatever you want with me right now.” You return, eyeing him from the side.

As if the sound was meant to directly ruin your moment, his work phone rings. And then, a notification pops up on his laptop. A work meeting.

“Yeah, not while talking to my bosses.”

Frowning, you release a pouty huff. “Could I maybe… stay? I’ll be quiet, I promise!”

At first, he’s inclined to say no. He isn’t sure what this meeting is about, but… he could always take it on his AirPods, too.

“Sure, baby. Just keep quiet, okay?”

Your face lights up at his words, nodding enthusiastically. Darting to the side, you grab a chair, pulling it up beside him. It takes all but two seconds for him to connect the call, popping in one of the small, white earbuds.

It’s cute, really, how sweetly you cuddle up to him. But can you help it? Going days without him feels like a fucking crime. And since he’s not on camera, you really can snuggle him, looping an arm around his and nuzzling into his shoulder.

Smiling, he enters the chat, happy to hear it’s about the upcoming trip. “Yeah, the tickets are set. Resnik checked into the hotel already, I’ll be meeting him early Friday. Yep, leaving Thursday night.”

He’s going through the facts, just running over the plan, but even though the conversation is mundane, you couldn’t be more entertained. The smooth melody of his voice lulls you into relaxation, that baritone sound rumbling in his throat.

Something about laying on the sturdiness of him, listening to him converse nonchalantly with his coworkers, it’s healing your inner child. Even though he’s at work, clearly busy, he still wants you here. He still does his best to make sure you know you’re loved.

“Come here.”

“Sh!” You giggle, moving with him. “We have to be quiet!”

“I know that.” Dave grunts in response, pulling you into his body again.

It all happened so quickly, him waking you up before leaving the office. You’re shocked that you fell asleep in the first place. Thinking back, you weren’t even that tired. Maybe he just made you that comfortable.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t have my fun with you.” He finishes, biting into your neck.

After he woke you up, he suggested that you come back to his home. Truthfully, it’s become far too easy for this to take place, for you to fuck Molly’s dad just down the hall from her bedroom. Coming home past midnight, he’s certain that his family will be asleep. And as long as you’re out before six the next morning, you’re in the clear. And anyways, he’d missed having you in his bed, beneath his body and hands. There was a point where you’d told him that you wanted a home, a home to share with him. And after that, he kind of lost it.

At first, it was innocent, the two of you snuggling in your undies together. He locked the door after you were both inside, releasing a contended breath once he finally got to hold you. Dave wrapped the covers around the two of you, settling into his bed. But then you were shifting, trying to get ‘comfortable’, all while grinding back against him.

“You know what I can’t stop thinking about? Your gorgeous fucking mouth,” Reaching up, he covers it with his palm, hissing into your ear, “And all the sexy sounds it makes.”

He’s holding you from behind, having shoved your panties to the side. Slipping himself out of his boxers, he slides along the slickness of your sex, grunting hot breaths directly into your ear.

“Jesus, baby, you don’t understand. You can’t do that to me, you can’t grind that perfect ass against me. I just, fuck, I cum so fucking easy with you.”

And while he’s talking, only riling himself up, you’re still doing it, shoving yourself back against him. Both of your hands are clinging to his forearm, lungs doing their best to release quiet breaths.

“Every time you leave, I think about you, baby. I think about you every goddamn second of the day. Think about your beautiful lips, tapping the head of my dick against them.” And that’s when you release your first, true moan, eyes fluttering just above his hand. “You want it, princess? You want me?”

It’s a smile whine, one accompanied with a nod, that you give in response. And with one small slip, barely adjusting the angle of his hips, he’s sliding in. It feels like it’s been forever since you felt him, the thickness of him splitting you open from behind.

“Talk to me,” He finally gives in, taking his hand away. “Talk to me, baby.”

“Baby,” You nearly squeal, feeling his hips thrust into you. All at once, he’s forcing you to take him, every inch. And it burns but it feels just right. “Fuck, I need this.”

“C’mon,” Dave grunts, teeth dragging along your neck. Sliding one hand down, he smacks your outer thigh, demanding, “Grind yourself against me.” And like always, you give in.

“More, daddy.” Already, your breaths have turned heavy, feeling his hips rotate against your ass. The sting of his slap still radiates along your skin, his fingers now pressing into the plump muscles he can’t seem to get enough of.

“I can’t wait to give you more, I’ll give you everything.” He promises, huffing out a deep moan. “When we’re on our trip, I’ll taste you everyday, every goddamn day.”

“David,” He’s pumping himself into you, meeting the smooth rotation of your hips.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to have your mouth on my cock again. Shove it down your throat and make you look up at me while you swallow.” He can’t even begin to tell you about the fantasies he’s dreamt up about this trip. “I can’t wait to take you with me.”

“I…” Sighing, you smile. “I can’t wait, daddy.”

“Daddy’ll give you whatever you want, okay, baby? Whatever you need, it’s yours, it’s yours, princess. Fuck.” Sliding his hand down, he fondles your chest, gripping you in hand. “Maybe I can show you off, take you to some beaches and clubs.”

“R-Really?”

“Fuck yes, you think I’d pass up that opportunity?” You hate to say it, but feeling like a prize to him is making you drip. “Let everyone see the sexy little thing that’s with me… Fuck, you can be so dirty, can’t you, baby? Sending me pictures of your pussy, huh? Letting me see up your cheer skirt?”

“I, I want that. Want you to do that.”

“I already have.”

“No, baby…”

“What?” Pressing his nose into your cheek, he groans. “What do you need?”

“Want you to do that at our next game.” And you almost can’t help the wicked smile that forms on your face.

“Yeah? At halftime? Just like how we first met?”

“Yes, baby.” The feeling of his cock dragging along your walls is almost too much when coupled with his words. And before you even realize it, your hips are stuttering in their motion.

“Did I tell you to stop?” Another harsh spank, one loud enough for you to worry.

“Daddy,”

“You like that?”

“You know I do.”

You can feel his stubble scratching along your jawline and cheek, his lips insistent in their kisses. But then he’s lowering himself, finding and then sucking on your neck.

“Do you like it, daddy? You like being inside me?”

“Fuck,” It’s a growl, one vibrating over your throat.

At this point, he’s slapping his hips against you, diving deeper every time.

“I loved sitting in your lap, daddy. Maybe I can do that more often at your office.”

“Maybe you can do a little more than that.”

You’re pulsing around him, trying to quiet your shrill gasps. Molly and Alice are just down the hall, and so is Carol. And to think you’re fucking their dad makes you hot all over again. It’s become so exciting. Hell, who are you kidding? It’s always been exciting.

“I love you, sweetheart. You were meant for this, you were made for me. Even when apart, I still want you. I still need you.”

“I need you, David.” Clinging to his forearm, you release a soft moan, feeling his tip punch against your most sensitive spot. “I love you.”

“B-Baby,” He suddenly stutters, holding you tighter in his grasp. And you almost can’t breathe from it, can’t think of anything else but him.

“I know, daddy. Will you cum inside me?”

“Jesus,” Eyes rolling back, he grunts. “You’re perfect for me.”

The sloppy sound of your meeting sexes makes your face burn, and if it weren’t for the loud fan in David’s room, you’d be worried. It makes you grateful for the times you get at your apartment, where you can be as loud and sloppy as you want. And you’re sure this vacation won’t be any different.

“I’m gonna take you with me,” He promises breathlessly, eyes pinching shut. His tongue is laving over your neck, lips kissing your jawline and cheek, moaning sweetly, desperately into your ear. “I can’t wait to take you with me.” In less than three sharp thrusts, he’s spilling into you, feeling the hot liquid rush out of his tip. It shoots into your center, the gooiness of it coating your insides white. His muscles turn to jelly, his once steady breaths now faltering, especially when you shove your hips back against him.

“I love you,” He proclaims through his high, his voice and chest straining as he speaks to you. “I love you, sweetheart. You’re mine.”

“I know,” You promise in return, nuzzling back into his barely-covered body. “I know, baby. And you’re mine.” Reaching around, your fingers find that soft, light brown hair, finding gentle purchase with it.

“You’ll always be with me, I promise.” Kissing the shell of your ear, David sighs, basking in the sensation of your fingers in his hair. “Princess, I’ll take you everywhere.”

#Dave York #MBFD #MBFD Series #My Best Friend's Dad #My Best Friend's Dad Series #Dave York x you #Dave York x reader #Dave York x female reader #Dave York smut #Dave York fluff #Dave York series

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kingofbodyrolls · 9 months ago

Text

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | nineteen [fin]

🐴Chapter summary: Your sister and Jungkook arrives home from their honeymoon with exciting news. You and Jimin just can’t wait to marry each other, and when you finally get to, it’s like your soul has come home.

🐴Chapter title: Home

🐴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: can you hear the wedding bells???? 💒 there’s fluff, so much kissing, so much love, explicit smut in the form of unprotected sex (slight impreg kink), oral (female and male), hair pulling, use of a degrading name (he calls her nasty a few times, but that’s it), dirty/sweet talk, praise kink, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, biting, exhibitionism (it’s not MC and Jimin this time, lol), there’s also a pregnancy. The smut is just nasty and dirty, but also very sweet and intimate (a lot of bodily fluids 🫣).

🐴Status: completed 🥳

🐴Word count: 18.2k (I’m so sorry, I got very emotional 😭)

🐴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 💿 “My Heart’s Home (Drover’s Run)” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?]

🐴Author’s note: wow. Okay 😭 I feel very emotional with this chapter. It’s a chapter that I have looked forward to writing for many months, since I outlined the whole story, and it’s sweet, it’s cute, it’s romantic!!!! Don’t come @ me, this is a romance story at its core 😭 I just feel sad that it’s ending now, because I truly love these characters so much and it has been so much fun putting them (and you, sorry) through hell and back. These characters will always have a special place in my heart, it’s sorta like with my characters from ‘Friendcation’ 🥹 Anyway, I’m rambling again— I just wanted to take some time to thank each and every one of you, both here on tumblr and on AO3. So many people, regulars even, have commented and engaged with me and this story and fucking shit, it makes me cry with happiness that some people actually like or even love this story 😭 I honestly never thought anyone would, when I outlined it, so it makes me so happy that someone out there loves this like I do. Thank you. Truly. I don’t have enough words to express how grateful I am to you 💖 This is actually the last ‘official’ chapter, so this is actually the end of the story. I’m going to write an extra chapter for you guys— chapter 20, but it will be an epilogue/Q&A thing where you can read what happens with the characters in like a year after the story has ended. There will also be answers to some of the questions you’ve sent in over time, so please look forward to it when it comes out some time soon 🫰

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

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

** this is the last call to send in asks that will feature in the epilogue. You’re still very welcome to send questions after, I’ll still answer future asks and comments! Thank you!

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

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next (epilogue) →

“The eyes of a child See a long long way See the future see the past They see everything first and last I was that child Who rode these hills In my dreams I see the stars In my dreams I always will Ride these hills See in the morning I’ll hear the rain on the shed But other stars and other sunsets will hang above my head There will be different places different people But I’ll still be the same” - ‘My Heart’s Home (Drover’s Run)’ by Rebecca Lavelle

Jungkook’s black truck remains absent from the yard for two long weeks, and anticipation builds within you for his return alongside your sister from their honeymoon. The longing to reunite with them intensifies with each passing day, driven by a dual desire: one, the longing for their presence, and the other, an eagerness to share your plans to move in with Jimin, a significant step forward in your life that you’re bursting to reveal to them both.

As you gaze out of the living room windows, the glow of the television casting flickering shadows across the room, the familiar roar of an engine reaches your ears, a sound that ignites a spark of excitement within you. With a surge of anticipation, you leap up from the couch, the rhythm of your heartbeat quickening with a mixture of affection and giddiness at the thought of their imminent arrival.

“Jimin, they’re finally back!” Your voice rings out, echoing through the house as you dash through its corridors and burst out into the yard, your excitement palpable in every step. Behind you, Jimin trails closely, his presence adding to the anticipation as he follows from the kitchen, eager to join in the long-awaited reunion.

With an almost reckless abandon, you swing the door open, the anticipation too overwhelming to contain. You and Jimin rush outside, your steps quickening with each heartbeat, until your eyes land on the driveway, where, as expected, the familiar silhouette of the black truck awaits, a beacon of their return and the promise of reconnection.

You’re overcome with a childlike excitement, your heart racing with anticipation akin to a kid on Christmas morning, as you eagerly watch the truck draw nearer, each moment filled with the promise of joy and reunion. Your eyes lock onto the familiar sight of it parking next to Jimin’s blue truck.

With bated breath and a heart brimming with anticipation, you eagerly observe as the truck’s engine fades into silence, and the doors swing open, revealing the figures you’ve been yearning to see: your sister and Jungkook.

Every second is precious as you dash towards your sister, your steps propelled by a surge of longing and affection. You collide with her in a heartfelt embrace, the warmth of reunion enveloping you both as you murmur, “I missed you,” the words laden with the weight of your longing and love.

“Hi,” your sister’s voice emerges slightly strained by the force of your hug, yet filled with the warmth of genuine affection. As you envelop her in your embrace, you draw her closer, reveling in the familiarity of her natural scent, a comforting reminder of the bond that binds you together.

Jungkook stands beside her, his face radiating joy as he juggles two bags, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. After exchanging warm greetings with your sister, you turn your attention to him, enveloping him in a tight embrace, the warmth of your reunion filling the air with a palpable sense of belonging.

Jimin joins you, stepping up beside you with a warm smile as he extends his greetings to your sister and his brother, his smile genuine and welcoming, mirroring the happiness that fills the air.

“Did you have an amazing honeymoon?” You inquire, granting them a moment of privacy as you observe their radiant faces. The subtle sun-kissed glow on their skin sparks curiosity within you, prompting thoughts of the exotic destinations they might have explored during their time away.

“It was so wonderful,” your sister shares, her smile radiant as she recalls their time away. Her eyes sparkle with the memories of relaxation and adventure.

Jungkook releases one of the bags and sweeps a hand through his tousled black hair, a contented smile gracing his lips. “It truly was,” he affirms, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia as he reminisces about the cherished moments shared with your sister.

“Where did you go?” Your curiosity brims over, unable to contain your eagerness any longer as you hang on the edge of anticipation, craving to unravel the mystery of their honeymoon destination.

“We traveled to a tropical island,” your sister reveals, her voice laced with a soft smile that speaks volumes of the cherished moments they shared. In the glint of her eyes, you catch a glimpse of the love and sweet memories woven into every moment of their adventure.

“That sounds so lovely. You can tell us more about it inside, Jimin has made breakfast,” you exclaim with a warm smile, nodding towards the house where Jimin has prepared a meal. With a shared sense of excitement, you and Jimin assist them with their luggage, eagerly ushering them back into the cozy embrace of home.

Inside, you carefully set their bags down in the hallway before kicking off your boots, the anticipation of the delicious breakfast Jimin prepared propelling you into the kitchen. Together, you assist each other in carrying the aromatic dishes to the dining room, where you swiftly set the table and pull out chairs, eager to indulge in the meal. As you all settle in and begin to eat, a serene silence envelops the room, broken only by the rhythmic clinking of utensils against plates.

As you steal glances at Jimin, your heart swells with affection, his presence a constant source of comfort and joy. Turning your gaze to your sister and Jungkook, their happiness radiates, igniting a flutter in your chest as you bask in the warmth of their contentment, a tangible reminder of the bonds that bind you all together.

“I’m dying to know, what were your favorite island adventures? Just spare me the details about how much you fucked,” you jest with a chuckle, pushing your empty plate aside. As you watch them, grinning like lovesick fools, you can’t help but feel a pang of envy mixed with genuine happiness for their shared bliss.

“We mainly just relaxed on the beach, and Kookie ate a lot of food,” your sister laughs, her joy infectious as her smile reaches all the way to her eyes, reflecting the carefree happiness of their tropical escape.

“We also went swimming in crystal clear water and hiked in nature, but that’s about it,”Jungkook chimes in with a grin, punctuating his words with a refreshing sip of water. His smile holds a trace of the exhilaration experienced amidst nature’s embrace.

“How have you guys been? Was it easy to manage both ranches?” Your sister’s voice brims with genuine curiosity and delight, her eagerness to catch up evident in the lilt of her tone.

“Yeah, it was manageable, especially with all the support we had,” you affirm with a nod. “But there’s something important we’ve been meaning to discuss with you,” you continue, your gaze drifting to the table below as a hint of nervousness tingles through your veins. It's a strange sensation, considering your eagerness to share the news and hear their thoughts on the matter, as well as their own plans for the future.

Your sister’s initial surprise doesn’t go unnoticed, but before she can voice her thoughts, you interject gently, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad.” With a reassuring smile, you gather your courage to continue, “Jimin and I have been talking, and we’ve decided that we want to take the next step in our relationship. We want to move in together, right here, at Bell Ranch.”

Your heart races in anticipation as you lock eyes with both Jungkook and your sister, the weight of your announcement settling heavily in the air. Sensing your nerves, Jimin’s hand seeks yours, offering a reassuring squeeze that anchors you in the moment, a silent reminder of his unwavering support and love.

Both Jungkook and your sister share a knowing chuckle, their eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and playful mischief, as if they’ve already anticipated this moment and are delighted by your decision.

“That sounds amazing. You should absolutely go for it,” Jungkook beams, his voice laced with genuine happiness. “In fact, we’ve been meaning to discuss something similar with you,” he reveals, his words tinged with excitement.

You raise a quizzical eyebrow, your curiosity piqued by Jungkook’s cryptic statement.

Your sister leans closer to Jungkook, their connection palpable as she intertwines her fingers with his over the table, a radiant smile gracing her lips. “We’ve been thinking about it for a while,” she reveals, her voice filled with excitement. “We want to take the next step too, move in together. At Bora Ranch.”

Laughter erupts around the table, filling the room with infectious joy until tears well up in your eyes—tears of pure, unadulterated happiness that overflow with the overwhelming love that you feel in your chest.

“That’s absolutely perfect,” Jimin’s smile widens, his touch gentle as he runs his fingers tenderly over your arm, his eyes alight with a warmth that mirrors the sentiment shared among all of you.

“We just need to move our stuff then,” you say with a smile, turning to Jimin and pressing a kiss to his lips. The news of your sister and Jungkook’s plans fills you with a sense of relief, especially since Bora Ranch no longer feels like home, not after the fire. In that moment, as you embrace Jimin, you realize where exactly home is for you, and honestly you’ve known for a while now, and it’s not a place—it’s wherever he is.

“Absolutely, let’s make it happen in the next couple of days,” your sister exclaims with a radiant smile, enveloping Jungkook in a tight embrace as if to solidify their excitement and determination.

“Let’s make it a team effort,” you suggest with a warm smile, leaning your head against Jimin’s shoulder for support. The idea of everyone pitching in to help each other move fills you with a sense of love and familiarity.

A brief, serene moment hangs in the air as you all bask in the warmth of love and excitement. However, as your sister and Jungkook exchange hesitant glances, a sense of anticipation hangs in the air, as though they are on the brink of revealing something significant yet are unsure of how to broach the topic.

“What’s on your minds?” You inquire, a note of concern creeping into your voice as their prolonged silence becomes increasingly conspicuous. Their lingering gazes, fraught with unspoken tension, only serve to heighten your curiosity, compelling you to seek answers to the unspoken questions hanging in the air.

Your sister straightens her posture, a flicker of nervousness dancing in her eyes, though they still sparkle with underlying happiness. Meanwhile, Jungkook’s smile broadens, his eyes shimmering with affection as he tenderly squeezes your sister’s hand.

Your sister draws in a deep, steadying breath, her smile revealing a mix of nervousness and unbridled joy. “Here’s the thing,” she begins, her voice quivering with anticipation. “You’re about to become an uncle and aunt,” she announces, the words tinged with the excitement of impending parenthood, setting the room abuzz with anticipation and elation.

Your eyes widen in realization, the weight of your sister’s words sinking in as your heart swells with overwhelming love. Emotions surge within you, threatening to spill over as tears well up once more, their intensity hitting you with a heavy force. Glancing at Jimin, you find his expression mirroring your own astonishment, his happiness palpable as he shares in the joyous revelation.

Your voice trembles, tears pooling in your eyes as you lean forward over the table, barely able to contain the flood of emotions welling up inside you. “Are you... pregnant?” You manage to whisper, the words laden with anticipation and a surge of overwhelming emotion.

Jungkook’s grin stretches so fucking wide, you fear his face might split in two, his infectious joy radiating throughout the room. Your sister nods, her smile beaming with happiness, though her eyes glisten with tears yet to fall.

“I am,” she confirms, her voice ringing with both certainty and a hint of wonder, as if she’s still coming to terms with the beautiful reality of impending motherhood.

Jimin envelops you in a tight embrace, his arms a comforting sanctuary as tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop a testament to the overwhelming rush of emotions coursing through you. The damp trails mark your shirt, but in this moment, you couldn’t care less about the stains. Amidst the tears, you’re consumed by an indescribable sense of happiness and boundless love, knowing that you’re surrounded by those who cherish you unconditionally.

“No, why are you crying?” Your sister asks, her voice catching with emotion, tears mirroring your own as they trickle down her cheeks.

“I’m just overwhelmed with happiness for you guys, congratulations,” you beam, feeling a swell of joyous emotions engulfing your chest. “These tears are pure happiness,” you add, your smile radiant and genuine, as you revel in the shared joy and anticipation of the precious new life joining your family.

Jimin’s embrace tightens, his affection palpable as he presses a tender kiss to your cheek, his silent gesture speaking volumes of his love and support in this moment of shared happiness.

“We found out during our honeymoon, and we just couldn’t wait to tell you,” Jungkook’s voice brims with pride and happiness, his words resonating with the excitement of this newfound journey into parenthood.

“I couldn’t be happier for you both, congratulations,” Jimin’s voice quivers with emotion, mirroring the heartfelt sentiment that permeates the room. In this moment, it’s evident that the overwhelming flood of happiness is shared by all, binding you together in celebration of this joyous news.

You nestle closer into Jimin’s embrace, thoughts swirling in your mind like autumn leaves in the wind. You’re aware of his desire for children, a notion that’s taken root in your own heart, especially after everything with Deiji. The idea of parenthood with Jimin fills you with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. You want to witness him step into the role of fatherhood, yet you grapple with your own insecurities about becoming a mother.

Despite these apprehensions, you sense a growing readiness within yourself, a quiet confidence that whispers of your eventual readiness for motherhood when the time is right. And now, with the news of your impending aunt-hood, you’re struck with the realization that this journey alongside your sister’s impending motherhood might just serve as the perfect trial run.

Though the child won’t be your own, you’re eager to observe, to support, and to glean insight into the complexities of parenthood. It’s a chance to test the waters, to discover if children truly fit into the tapestry of your future dreams and aspirations.

“I’m going to be an aunt,” you announce proudly, your voice catching with tears and overwhelming emotion. Jimin enfolds you in his embrace again, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the whirlwind of feelings. With each reassuring squeeze, he reminds you of the unwavering support and love he always provides, grounding you in his steadfast embrace.

“This thing’s a beast!” Yoongi grunts, his voice strained with exertion as he joins Jungkook in lifting the hefty dresser from his room.

As they maneuver the bulky dresser down the stairs, Jungkook’s laughter fills the air, a lighthearted counterpoint to the laborious task at hand. While the rest of you have pitched in by packing his belongings, your sister watches eagerly, her desire to help palpable. However, Jungkook remains adamant, refusing to let her lift even a finger, his protectiveness extending to the safety of their unborn child. You can’t suppress a chuckle at the sight, finding it both endearing and slightly excessive given her early stage of pregnancy. You wonder if Jungkook will extend his cautious approach to other activities, maybe even her beloved horseback riding.

In no time, you’ve managed to load Jungkook’s belongings onto the trucks and horse trailer. As you survey the now empty room, save for his bed, a pang of nostalgia washes over you. The stripped-down space feels oddly unfamiliar, a stark contrast to the warmth and personality it once exuded.

With the trailer securely locked, you step outside, relishing the fresh air after the exertion of heavy lifting. Taehyung’s smile beams at the group.

“Now that Jungkook is moving out, can I get his room?” Taehyung’s inquiry is met with a wide grin, his eyes alight with anticipation as he eagerly awaits your and Jimin’s response.

“Do you really want to sleep in that bed? You know they’ve had sex on it a lot,” Jimin jests, a playful grin dancing across his lips. Jungkook simply shrugs, his own smile acknowledging the undeniable truth in his brother’s jest.

Taehyung groans audibly, his frustration evident in the tone as if he’s contemplating a drastic measure like clawing his own eyes out. “I know,” he concedes, his voice laced with determination. “But trust me, once I’m through with it, that bed will be practically brand new. Fresh sheets and a thorough deep clean— it’ll be like sleeping on a cloud.”

A chuckle escapes you involuntarily. Taehyung’s innocence is endearing, prompting a gentle giggle to bubble forth. “I don’t mind you living with us,” you admit with a warm smile. “But the final say rests with Jimin,” you tease lightly, casting a playful glance in Jimin’s direction.

Turning to Jimin with an eager glint in his eyes, Taehyung poses the question, “Can I live with you guys?”

Jimin’s grin widens, radiating warmth as he responds, “Sure. As long as you don’t mind the occasional noises.”

Taehyung emits another groan, his tone tinged with humor. “As long as I’m not witnessing any reenactments of last time, I’m all in,” he quips with a playful eye roll.

Jungkook halts abruptly, his hand hovering over the truck door handle, his curiosity piqued. He strides over to you with purpose, his expression a mix of confusion and intrigue. “What’s this about reenactments?” He inquires, his gaze flickering between you and Taehyung.

Your sister sidles up beside you, her curiosity evident, and you can’t help but offer a subtle eye roll, already anticipating the impending discussion with a mix of reluctance and amusement.

“Yoongi and I walked in on them doing it on the couch,” Taehyung utters with a deep groan, his hand instinctively covering his eyes as if attempting to shield himself from the memory once more.

Jungkook erupts into laughter, giving Taehyung an affectionate pat on the back. “I’m sorry, but let’s face it, we’re all a bit... horny around here. Can’t say you should be too surprised to catch an eyeful or an earful now and then,” he quips with a grin, breaking the tension with humor.

Taehyung lets out an exasperated huff. “I still believe intimacy should stay behind closed doors. You guys are some serious exhibitionists,” he retorts, shaking his head in disbelief.

Laughter erupts among the group, but amidst the mirth, Taehyung’s observation strikes a chord. While you don’t relish being watched, there’s a truth to his words. You and Jimin have a knack for choosing semi-public settings, a fact you’re now forced to confront.

As you pile into the trucks and embark on the journey to Bora Ranch with Jungkook’s furniture in tow, the anticipation of a new chapter fills the air. Upon arrival, a collaborative effort ensues as everyone pitches in to unload his belongings. Once completed, it’s your turn to pack your own possessions for the move.

As you gather your belongings, you find yourself with mostly pre-packed bags and suitcases filled with clothes and the few remnants of decor salvaged after the fire. Among them are the cherished photos Jimin gave you, snapshots of your childhood that hold precious memories. Opting to leave your bed behind, you realize it’s a symbolic gesture as you prepare to share Jimin’s bed permanently, marking a new chapter in your lives together.

“She doesn’t have as much stuff as Jungkook,” Taehyung remarks, gesturing toward your modest collection of bags. It’s true; compared to Jungkook’s substantial furniture, your belongings seem minimal. But within those bags lie not just clothes and essentials, but memories and hopes for the future, making them weightier than they appear.

“I’ve been thinking,” you start, sweeping your hand around the room, still filled with furniture you got after the fire, “and I don’t feel any connection to this new stuff. It’s like it’s just here, not really a part of me. I’d rather start fresh with Jimin, with pieces that mean something to both of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, his tone tinged with understanding, though you’re not sure why he’s apologizing. Maybe it’s just the acknowledgment that things have shifted, that change is inevitable. Like the seasons, feelings change with time, and you’ve come to accept it. This ranch will always hold a special place in your heart, it’s the first place you called home, but you’re eager to forge a new path with Jimin— to create a home that’s uniquely yours.

“It’s okay. I’m excited about living with Jimin, and now having you as a roommate,” you say warmly, enveloping Taehyung in a hug, a genuine smile playing on your lips.

“I gotta ask you something. You’re not a screamer, are you?” He asks, a hint of apprehension in his voice, his expression betraying his worry.

You chuckle, teasingly responding, “Well, I guess you’ll have to find out, won’t you?”

He groans dramatically, adding, “I might reconsider moving in and just staying in the guest cottage.”

Jimin’s laughter fills the room as he playfully adds, “That’s up to you.”

As you descend with your bags, Hoseok and Yoongi join in, shouldering your easel and paintings, a colorful procession of creativity weaving its way to the waiting trucks.

“Do you paint?” Taehyung asks, his curiosity piqued as he catches sight of your easel being carefully loaded into the truck.

“Yeah, it’s my work,” you respond with a proud laugh, a touch of confidence in your voice. The smile on your face reflects the satisfaction and joy you find in your art.

“Wow, that’s amazing! I had no idea,” Taehyung exclaims, his enthusiasm clear as he grins at you. “We’ll definitely have to chat more about it—I’d love some tips! Painting’s a passion of mine too.” His excitement is infectious, prompting you to smile back and nod in agreement, already imagining the creative conversations and shared insights to come.

“I’m going to fetch Mikrokosmos,” you announce with a smile, making your way to the stables to retrieve your horse. As you greet her in her stall, she nuzzles you affectionately, sensing the journey ahead. You lead her out with her halter, guiding her down the yard toward the waiting horse trailer. Mikrokosmos steps in without hesitation, a testament to her trust in you. You secure her safely with a quick safety knot on her halter, ensuring she’s comfortable for the ride.

Once again, you all pile into the trucks and make your way back to Bell Ranch with your belongings in tow. The journey is filled with a sense of camaraderie, and upon arrival, your friends and family pitch in to help you unload.

You carefully guide Mikrokosmos out of the trailer and lead her into one of the paddocks next to the stables. Once inside, you release her, watching as she eagerly trots away, basking in the freedom of the open space.

As you take in the serene scene, you catch sight of Yoongi and Hoseok making their way inside to grab some cold beers. As the work wraps up, the sky is painted with hues of twilight, and the sun dips below the horizon.

Jimin, ever the gracious host, fires up the grill, the sizzle of the barbecue adding to the evening’s ambiance. The inviting aroma of grilling food wafts through the air, promising a satisfying meal to cap off the day. The scene feels like the perfect conclusion to a day of teamwork and togetherness, as you all prepare to share a delicious dinner under the night sky.

Jungkook joins his brother at the grill, their teamwork evident as they skillfully tend to the sizzling meat and vibrant grilled vegetables. When you return to the porch, the savory aroma envelops you, the smoky scent of the food teasing your senses and making your mouth water in anticipation of the feast to come.

Jimin sets a relaxing ambiance by playing soft music on the speakers, the melodic tunes complementing the twinkling stars overhead. This serene setting envelops you in a sense of comfort, surrounded by love and the warmth of friendship and family. As Jimin serves everyone food, you settle in to eat, savoring the delicious meal while sipping on a cold beer and refreshing water.

Yoongi breaks the serene silence with a knowing smile and a playful glint in his eyes, asking, “So, how’s married life treating you?”

Jungkook chuckles, a playful tone in his voice. “It’s pretty much like ‘regular’ life,” he remarks, using air quotes and a lighthearted grin to convey the experience of married life.

“But we love it,” your sister adds, her voice brimming with happiness and love, the warmth of her sentiment echoing in the glow of her smile.

A smile tugs at your lips as you imagine the day you’ll marry Jimin, the thought filling you with a rush of anticipation and warmth. You turn your head towards him and lean into his embrace, finding comfort in his steady presence. As you rest your head against his strong shoulder, you share a tender smile with him, a silent promise of the beautiful future you both envision together.

Resting your head on Jimin’s shoulder, you watch as your friends and family chat about everything under the sun. Occasionally, you join in, but you mostly listen, soaking up the joy and familiarity that fills the air. The comforting blend of Jimin’s musky scent surrounds you like a warm embrace, filling you with love and serenity. The gentle rhythm of his heartbeat against your body harmonizes with your own, the two of you perfectly in sync, a quiet yet powerful reminder of your deep love.

For a moment, you close your eyes and let yourself truly savor this idyllic scene with your friends and family, the sounds of laughter and conversation swirling around you. As you bask in the warmth of this perfect moment, a profound realization washes over you: you’ve been granted everything you once dreamed of. The rift with your sister has healed, something you once thought impossible. You’ve rekindled your relationship with your childhood friend and crush, and soon you will marry him. The sheer serendipity of it all feels almost surreal as you reflect on how life has brought you full circle.

In the two years since your return, your journey has been marked by a whirlwind of experiences—mistakes, challenges, and triumphs. Each one has played a vital role in molding you into the person you’ve become. These moments of growth have paved the way for your present strength and resilience.

The infectious laughter of those around you envelops your ears, amplifying the love and warmth that fills the air. This moment holds a unique magic, one that you can’t quite put your finger on but know instinctively is special. It’s your first official day living with your fiancé, and as each day passes, you draw closer to the dream of calling him your husband. The anticipation of the future mingles with the beauty of the present, creating a moment you’ll cherish forever.

You eagerly anticipate the day you’ll exchange vows and begin your life as a married couple. The thought of your wedding day fills you with joy and excitement, knowing that it will mark the start of a beautiful, lifelong journey together.

Jimin guides the truck to a stop in front of the jewelry store, silencing the engine with a twist of the key. The building’s polished windows reflect the bright sunlight, hinting at the treasures inside as the two of you prepare for a special moment in your lives.

“Is this where you got my engagement ring?” you ask Jimin, glancing at the golden band with its stunning purple gemstone on your finger. You lift your gaze to him, your heart racing with anticipation as you smile, cherishing the beautiful memory of how he proposed to you in the muddy rain.

“Yes, I did,” he confirms with a soft smile. “And I have a feeling we’ll find the perfect wedding bands here too.” Leaning across the center console, he gently cups your face and pulls you in for a deep, sweet kiss that fills you with warmth, his affection radiating through every touch.

You savor the touch of his soft lips on yours, the way they fit perfectly against yours, as if you were made for each other.

“Come, love,” he murmurs, pulling back with a lingering smile. He opens the door and steps out, waiting for you as you follow suit.

Outside, Jimin takes your hand in his, the warmth of his touch sending a rush of affection through you. Together, you walk toward the store’s entrance, feeling a sense of anticipation. Jimin opens the door for you, the soft chime of the bell welcoming you into the world of sparkling jewels and possibilities.

Your eyes are met with an array of displays, each one showcasing exquisite jewelry in various metals and vibrant gemstones. The dazzling assortment leaves you momentarily unsure where to focus your attention. Feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sheer variety, you turn to Jimin, trusting his experience with the store to guide you through the selection process.

A woman elegantly dressed in a black pencil skirt and crisp white blouse approaches you with a welcoming smile. “Hi, how can I help you?” She asks, her gaze briefly resting on your intertwined hands. As she meets both of your eyes, her expression lights up with recognition. “You’ve returned!” She exclaims, her gaze lingering on Jimin's face as a hint of familiarity crosses her features.

You offer a hesitant smile, the sense of familiarity between the woman and Jimin making you feel slightly nervous. Jimin, however, greets her with a friendly smile and a nod, acknowledging the recognition.

The woman glances at you with a knowing smile. “I take it she said yes, and she loves the ring?” she asks, her gaze settling on you as she sees the engagement ring on your finger.

You smile and nod, acknowledging the woman’s question. The conversation feels a bit strange, being discussed as if you weren’t present. Despite this, you try to remain polite and gracious, eager to continue with the task at hand and find the perfect wedding bands.

With a gentle smile, she says, “Congratulations! Are you here to find the perfect wedding bands today?”

Both you and Jimin reply in unison, “Yeah!”

Your simultaneous response triggers a burst of laughter, easing the slight nervousness you felt as it dissipates into the air.

The woman guides you to a display filled with a stunning array of rings, predominantly wedding bands in various styles and materials. “These are our selections, and there are more on this display right here,” she explains, pointing to a neighboring case. “Take your time to browse and let me know if you see something you like,” she adds with a warm smile before stepping back to give you some privacy.

You both nod in acknowledgment, turning your attention to the two displays she indicated. The sheer variety of rings is a bit overwhelming, leaving you unsure of what you want—or what Jimin might like. Seeking his opinion, you turn to him and ask, “What do you like?”

Jimin offers you a warm smile as he surveys the selection. “I think something classic,” he muses, his gaze skimming over the array of rings. “Nothing too flashy, just something timeless that suits us both.”

You nod in agreement. “I think that’s the way to go—something classic and timeless.”

“Yes, I like that idea,” he agrees. Together, you browse the display of rings, taking in the classic gold bands, sleek silver options, and even some adorned with delicate stones. The variety offers a range of choices, each with its own unique appeal.

Your eyes catch on something that stands out—it’s not a traditional classic band, but there’s an intriguing charm to it. You point it out, intrigued. “What about this one?” You ask, indicating a wedding band with a unique design. The band blends classic and modern styles, featuring intertwined silver and gold in an elegant twist, creating a captivating visual effect.

“I know it’s not the traditional style, but there’s something so beautiful about it,” you say, your voice thick with love and affection as you admire the ring’s unique design.

“It’s beautiful—almost like a blend of classic and modern,” he says with a smile, squeezing your hand gently. “I really like it.”

“Do you think this is the one?” He asks, his eyes shining with anticipation. You nod enthusiastically, your smile beaming back at him.

“Yeah, I think that’s the one.”

You signal to the store lady, who promptly approaches and carefully removes the ring from the display. As she hands it to you, you turn it over in your hands, examining it closely. The smoothness of the metal and the intricate twist of silver and gold seem to encapsulate the unique blend of your relationship. This ring feels like a tangible symbol of the fusion of your love for each other, and its perfect balance fills you with certainty.

Jimin asks the store attendant with a gentle smile, “Would it be possible to have them engraved?”

She nods enthusiastically, a joyful smile lighting up her face. “Absolutely, what would you like engraved on them?” She asks, her excitement mirroring yours as you prepare to add a personal touch to your chosen rings.

“Our names and the date we first met as kids,” Jimin explains, writing down the details on a piece of paper—your names, the meaningful date, and your ring sizes—and handing it to the store lady.

The store attendant’s face lights up with a bright smile, her happiness evident as she absorbs the details. “That’s incredibly sweet,” she remarks, her voice filled with warmth. “Were you childhood friends?” Her eyes glisten with emotion, touched by the story of your enduring bond.

“Yes,” you both respond in unison, leaning into each other with smiles that reflect your history and deep affection.

“I love it,” she says, her voice brimming with warmth. “I’ll have the rings ready for you in a couple of weeks. I can ship them to you by mail if that’s alright?” She asks, her tone filled with genuine care for your special request.

“That’s perfect,” Jimin agrees with a nod and a warm smile. He completes the payment for the rings, and the two of you make your way back to his truck, holding hands and looking forward to the future together.

As he gazes at you with such intensity, you can feel the depth of his love, as though you are his entire world. It’s a moment that takes your breath away and leaves you with a profound sense of gratitude. The anticipation of marrying him swells within you, making your heart race with excitement for the future you will build together.

The door swings open abruptly, and Jungkook strides into the living room, momentarily disrupting your cozy evening with Jimin. You’re sprawled on the couch, sharing a relaxed moment while watching your favorite dating reality show, which the two of you often enjoy critiquing with playful banter.

You hear Jungkook’s groan and immediately shift your attention to him, taking in his furrowed brows and anguished expression. Concern washes over you as you watch him take a defeated seat next to Jimin, his body language revealing that something is weighing heavily on him. The lighthearted mood in the room shifts, and you brace yourself for what's coming next.

“What’s going on, Kook?” You ask, your voice laced with curiosity and a touch of apprehension. Jungkook’s defeated demeanor has you on edge, and you hope whatever is troubling him isn’t as serious as it seems.

Jungkook groans once more, sinking deeper into the couch with a look of exasperation. “It’s your sister,” he mutters, his tone heavy with frustration or concern.

At the mention of your sister, you flinch, an instant jolt of concern propelling you to move closer to Jungkook. Practically crawling over your fiancé to get a clearer view, you urgently ask, “Is everything alright? Did something happen?” The worry in your voice is undeniable as you brace yourself for his response.

Jimin lets out a grunt as you inadvertently put your hands and most of your weight on his thighs. He shifts beneath you, making room for you to get a better view of Jungkook while you’re practically sitting on him. Despite the sudden pressure, Jimin’s presence provides you with the stability and support you need as you focus on Jungkook with concern etched across your face.

Jungkook shakes his head, his expression a mix of frustration and amusement. “No, it’s nothing serious—just the pregnancy.”

Frustrated by Jungkook’s vague response, you reach out and grab his shirt, pulling him closer with a determined glint in your eyes. Your face inches away from his, you hiss, “If you don’t tell me what’s going on right now, I’ll make it so this will be the only child you ever have.”

Both Jimin and Jungkook recoil slightly at your intense threat, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Jungkook exhales a huff, his expression a mix of surprise and reluctant amusement. “Wow, that’s quite the threat,” he remarks, attempting to diffuse the tension. “I was going to tell you, just calm down.”

You roll your eyes in exasperation, releasing your grip on Jungkook’s shirt. As you settle back into your spot beside Jimin, you relax against him, resuming the comfortable lounging position you had been in before the interruption.

The moment of tension dissipates, but your curiosity about the situation remains.

“Talk,” you demand, the edge in your voice leaving no room for misinterpretation. The seriousness in your tone serves as a clear warning that Jungkook should tread carefully to avoid provoking your anger.

“Well, Jessi’s been dealing with nonstop nausea, and her mood swings are off the charts,” Jungkook begins with a frustrated groan. “One minute she’s furious, the next she’s in tears, and then suddenly she’s super emotional and wants to be intimate all the time. It’s a rollercoaster, and I’m struggling to keep up.”

You and Jimin both burst into laughter, relieved by Jungkook’s predicament and thankful that there was nothing seriously wrong. The shared humor lightens the mood, easing your earlier tension and allowing you to relax back into the couch, reassured by the knowledge that Jungkook’s concerns were more about the trials and tribulations of parenthood than any serious issue.

“She’s pregnant, Kook. Those things happen to some pregnant women,” you say with a shrug, your tone gentle as you offer some reassurance to Jungkook. Leaning into Jimin’s comforting touch, you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, finding solace in his embrace as you reflect on the challenges your sister is navigating.

“Maybe, but I’ve never seen her like this before,” Jungkook admits, a mix of concern and frustration coloring his voice. “She’s so emotional, and she seems so fragile when she’s usually so tough,” he adds with a sigh, grappling with the unexpected transformation of your sister.

“Just hang in there—only seven more months to go,” Jimin reassures Jungkook with a gentle pat on his back.

“You and Jessi will make it through this together.”

“So, is this your escape from her wrath?” You ask with a chuckle, a playful smile on your lips. Your teasing tone lightens the mood a bit.

Jungkook buries his face in his hands and lets out a groan. “Yeah,” he admits, his voice filled with a mixture of frustration and resignation.

“She was crying because the dishwasher wouldn’t start,” Jungkook begins, and you can feel a flicker of anger at the thought that he might have left your sister in distress. But then he continues, “And when I tried to fix it, she got so mad at me and told me to leave.”

Jungkook appears slightly emotionally drained, and you can understand why. Your sister has always been a strong-willed, independent person with a quick temper—traits that pregnancy may have intensified. You can’t help but feel relief that you don’t live with her anymore, though you sympathize with Jungkook’s predicament.

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying to balance humor with understanding. “But I’m pretty sure she didn’t mean for you to actually leave the property.” You let out a soft, empathetic laugh, your voice tinged with melancholy. “Why not head back and give her a hug? It might be just what she needs right now.”

Jungkook nods in agreement and rises from the couch. “You’re probably right,” he concedes with a resigned sigh. “I’ll head back and apologize.”

“Catch you later, Kook,” you and Jimin chime in unison, exchanging a playful glance. You gaze up at Jimin’s face as you rest against his shoulder, tracing the familiar patterns of his cute moles with your eyes and feeling a warm sense of comfort.

“Do you think I’ll be like that too when I’m pregnant?” You ask Jimin, your question hanging in the air between you. You can feel his heart rate quicken, a sign of his sudden nervousness or excitement at the thought. He shifts slightly, turning his head toward you and pulling you gently away from his body to meet your gaze. His eyes lock onto yours with a tenderness that speaks volumes, as if searching for the right words to offer reassurance or express his own thoughts about the possibility of starting a family together.

“When you get pregnant?” Jimin echoes your question, a hint of uncertainty coloring his voice. His curious gaze locks onto yours, as though he’s trying to grasp the full meaning of your words. His expression suggests he’s unsure whether he heard you correctly, leaving you with a sense of anticipation for his reaction.

You bite your lip and give a nod, confirming his question, “Yeah.”

“You want to have kids with me?” Jimin rephrases the question, his wide eyes shimmering with the hint of tears. His joy is palpable, his beaming smile nearly breaking free as he processes the profoundness of your admission.

“Yeah, I told you before. I’ve been thinking about it more. I want to have kids with you,” you say, your smile soft and sincere as you cup his face with your hand. “A little one with your beautiful eyes, your full lips, and those adorable cheeks,” you add, your voice filled with affection. “And they’ll inherit my amazing personality too,” you tease playfully, imagining the perfect blend of your best traits in your future child.

Jimin begins to sob, tears streaming down his face as he struggles to steady his uneven breathing. Your heart aches seeing his emotional response, and you gently wipe away his tears with a comforting touch. “It’s okay, love,” you soothe, your voice soft and reassuring, offering him a sense of calm and safety as he processes the moment.

“I’m just so happy,” Jimin says, his voice breaking as he chokes back tears. “To know that you truly want kids... I was never sure if it was something you really wanted or if you were just saying it to make me happy. I would never want you to feel pressured into this, you know that, right?” His eyes glisten with a mixture of love and happiness, reflecting the depth of his emotions.

You nestle closer to Jimin, kissing him deeply as you whisper, “Oh, Jimin, don’t worry. The thought of having kids with you fills me with so much love. Just imagining a little one with your beautiful eyes and infectious smile running around lights up my world.” As your lips meet his, you savor the connection, even tasting his salty tears. In this moment, your love for him overwhelms you, making everything else fade into the background.

“I’ll go find Tae and let him know dinner’s ready,” you announce to Jimin, Yoongi, and Hoseok, who are already settled at the dining table enjoying their meals.

You step outside, heading down the yard towards the stables where the light still glows, suggesting Taehyung might be there. It’s the most likely spot to find him, and as you walk, the evening’s cool breeze adds a calming touch to your purposeful stride. The stables, with their comforting familiarity, seem like the perfect place to begin your search.

As you step inside the stables, you’re met with an unexpected chorus of grunts, moans, and heavy breathing. The sudden sounds catch you off guard, causing your body to freeze in place. A blush quickly creeps up your cheeks, spreading to your ears as you process the intimate noises.

You grapple with the shock, as your heart races, realizing you’ve just walked in on an intimate moment. It’s a strange mix of embarrassment and disbelief, feeling like an uninvited guest in a private scene. Then it hits you—the irony of their choice to be so bold in such a public setting like the stables.

Despite the initial shock, you decide to proceed further into the stables, taking careful, deliberate steps down the aisle. You make sure to create noticeable sounds with your movements, whether by deliberately stepping harder or shuffling items along the way. This way, you aim to signal your presence and give whoever is there a chance to respond or adjust to your unexpected arrival.

“Tae?” You call out into the room, your voice echoing through the stables. Almost immediately, you hear the sound of shuffling, followed by grunts and the soft murmur of curses.��

“What?” Taehyung grunts from where he’s hidden among the hay. The sound of his voice elicits a mischievous smile from you as you imagine the flustered scene you might have interrupted.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Ara’s voice reaches you, carrying a note of embarrassment and guilt. You sense her distress, but you take it in stride, not overly concerned by the situation.

“I just wanted to let you know that dinner’s ready,” you announce in a matter-of-fact tone as you turn to leave. “Come down whenever you two are finished.”

You can’t help but chuckle, the irony of the moment not lost on you. “You really are a hypocrite, Tae.”

As you hear more shuffling and rumbling noises behind you, you can’t help but shake your head and close the stable doors with a sense of amusement. The absurdity of the moment strikes you, and you laugh so hard that your stomach begins to ache from the intensity of your laughter.

“It’s been ages since we went for a ride just for fun,” you say with a smile as you and Yoongi trot through the lush green landscape. The freedom and simplicity of the moment bring a sense of nostalgia and joy, reminding you both of the simple pleasures that life offers.

Yoongi chuckles, a rare glint of lightness in his eyes. “Yeah, it’s a nice change of pace,” he says, his tone carrying a hint of appreciation for the moment.

You urge your horses into a gallop, with Yoongi on Holly and you on Mikrokosmos, the rush of speed and the exhilaration of freedom washing over you. The wind plays with your hair as you give the horses free rein, allowing them to kick up dirt and race to their heart's content. This moment of wild abandon brings a thrill that makes your heart soar and brings you closer to the essence of being alive.

You’ll never tire of this feeling—the sensation of flying and floating as you ride your horse through the open air. The caress of the wind on your face as you gallop through nature is an experience unlike any other, a rush of freedom and exhilaration. Even though you don’t currently need healing, the simple act of horseback riding has always been a source of peace and rejuvenation for you. It’s a therapy that soothes your soul and brings you back to your center.

You and Yoongi ride for a long while, enjoying the tranquility of the journey, until you approach the edge of a dense forest. Together, you guide your horses to a halt, stepping down and allowing them to graze on the lush green grass around you.

As you take a seat on the soft grass, the serene surroundings envelop you. The shade of the forest offers respite from the sun, and the sounds of nature—rustling leaves and distant bird calls—create a calming backdrop. It’s a moment of perfect harmony with the natural world, a peaceful interlude where you can fully absorb the beauty and stillness of your surroundings.

You settle down next to Yoongi, and you take a moment to savor the quiet companionship you share. The simplicity of your friendship brings you a deep sense of contentment, and you can’t help but feel immense gratitude for the day you met him. His presence is a constant source of comfort, and you appreciate the easy friendship and understanding you both share.

For a moment, you exchange a knowing look with Yoongi, a silent understanding passing between you. There’s no need for words—you both feel the same deep sense of appreciation for this quiet companionship. You cherish how you can simply be in each other’s company, enveloped in the serene embrace of nature, without the need for constant conversation. The unspoken bond you share is a rare and beautiful thing, a testament to the strength of your friendship.

Yoongi suddenly turns to you, his expression a mix of anticipation and nervousness. “I’m going to ask Hobi to marry me,” he confides, his voice carrying the weight of the monumental decision he’s about to make. His eyes lock onto yours, searching for your reaction, and you can sense the depth of his emotions—love, excitement, and a hint of apprehension.

You’re taken aback by Yoongi’s revelation, but simultaneously, it’s not entirely unexpected. You’ve observed his growing interest in the idea of marriage over the past few weeks, noting his thoughtful questions and contemplative musings on the subject. His decision to propose to Hoseok feels like a natural progression, given the depth of their relationship and his recent reflections on commitment and partnership.

You envelop Yoongi in a tight hug, a warm smile lighting up your face. “You absolutely should. I’m so happy for you, and I have no doubt he’ll say yes.” Your voice carries genuine excitement and encouragement, affirming Yoongi’s decision and offering him your full support.

Yoongi chuckles as you hold him close. “I hope so too,” he says, his voice filled with warmth and a touch of nervousness. “I really love him more than anything.” His words reveal the depth of his feelings for Hoseok, making the moment even more touching and heartfelt.

You nod, your expression earnest. “I know, and you both deserve all the happiness in the world.” Your words carry a deep sense of conviction, affirming your belief in their love and your wish for their future together.

You release Yoongi from the hug and lean into his shoulder, offering him your silent support.

“You too—have you thought about when you want to get married or what kind of wedding you’d like?” Yoongi asks, his curiosity evident in his tone. He’s genuinely interested in hearing about your plans for the future, showing his investment in your happiness and his desire to share in your excitement.

You let out a thoughtful sigh. “I’m not sure yet. We’re leaning towards something small and intimate,” you admit, your voice thick with love as you chuckle. “Honestly, I just want to marry him already, but we haven’t set a date yet. Maybe it’s time we do.”

“I understand completely. If you need any help at all—setting a date, picking out invitations, choosing your dress, anything—you know you can count on me,” Yoongi offers warmly, pulling you into a supportive hug. His reassurance and willingness to assist in the wedding planning process highlight his genuine care for you and his desire to help make your special day as perfect as possible.

“You’re my best friend, and I want you to have the most perfect, happiest wedding day,” he continues, his words brimming with sincerity and affection. As you hear his heartfelt sentiment, you suddenly feel a few tears on your hand, realizing how much his support and friendship mean to you. In response, you wrap your arms around him even tighter, embracing the depth of your friendship and the love you share.

“Jimin!” You call out excitedly, rushing through the house and into your bedroom with a package in your hand. Your enthusiasm makes you push the door open with more force than intended. Your heart races with love and anticipation, as you can’t believe the moment has finally arrived—your rings are here.

Just as the jeweler had promised, the rings have arrived a few weeks after you and Jimin selected them together. It’s been a month since you made your choice, and now the moment you’ve been eagerly waiting for is here.

Jimin groans, still caught in the haze of sleep as you crawl onto the bed beside him. With a gentle touch, you shake him awake, your excitement palpable as you prepare to share the moment with him.

“What is it, love?” He asks, his voice heavy with sleep as he slowly comes to. His groggy state doesn’t dampen the affection in his tone, and you can tell he’s ready to listen despite his drowsiness.

“It’s our wedding rings! They’re finally here,” you exclaim, your smile radiant despite the early hour. You can’t contain your excitement, and the joy in your voice is infectious. The thought of holding your rings brings a sense of happiness and anticipation that overshadows the sleepiness of the morning.

Jimin’s eyes snap open at your words, fully awake now. His gaze locks onto the package in your hands, then shifts to you in your silky nightdress. As he runs a hand through his tousled blonde hair, he bites his lip in anticipation, his excitement mirroring yours.

“Now that the rings are here, maybe we should talk about what kind of wedding we want,” you muse as you stretch out beside Jimin.

Jimin chuckles, his smile warm and affectionate. “Yeah, we’re not exactly known for our planning skills,” he admits with a playful tone.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, locking eyes with Jimin. “But let’s take some time now to discuss it so we can make plans.” The love in his eyes is overwhelming, and you feel like you could lose yourself in them.

With a soft smile, you run your hand over his bare skin as he lounges on his side. “Do you still want to keep the wedding intimate and small?” You ask, your fingers tracing gentle patterns, the warmth of his body a comforting presence against your touch.

“Yeah, I do,” Jimin responds with a smile, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “We don’t have a big family, and I just want our closest friends and family there.” He lets out a soft giggle as your playful touch lingers on his torso, enjoying the intimacy and lightheartedness of the moment.

“I want an intimate wedding too,” you say, pulling closer to Jimin as you share your thoughts. “If we just want our closest loved ones there, why not have the wedding soon? Everyone is already here.” Your suggestion brings an exciting immediacy to the conversation, hinting at the possibility of a heartfelt, spontaneous celebration of your love.

Jimin’s eyes light up with realization, and he nods, his excitement palpable. He bites his lip thoughtfully, a lovely smile spreading across his face as he processes the idea. The notion of an intimate wedding with your loved ones already present clearly resonates with him.

“You’re right. Why wait?” Jimin responds, his voice filled with eager excitement. You watch as his body trembles slightly, a visible manifestation of the anticipation and love that courses through him at the thought of marrying you sooner rather than later.

“Today?” Jimin’s body radiates love and anticipation, and his infectious excitement mirrors your own. You can’t help but break into a smile as you straddle him, looking down at the person who means everything to you. In that moment, you’re overwhelmed by the thought of marrying him right then and there, the desire so strong it fills your heart to the brim.

“Today,” you reaffirm, your voice filled with conviction and exhilaration. Your heart races, almost bursting from your chest with the overwhelming love you feel. The realization that you might get married today sends a thrill through you—you’re ready and can’t wait to take this monumental step.

You surge forward, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss that lasts for minutes. Your lips begin to ache from the intensity, but you barely notice—it feels too good, his taste intoxicating, his touch igniting a fire within you. You savor every moment, lost in the connection, in the depth of your love for him.

“Wait, we don’t have an officiant,” you suddenly realize, your excitement giving way to a moment of concern. “And on such short notice, how can we find someone out here?” Your disappointment is clear as your heart sinks at the thought of delaying your wedding plans. The longing to marry Jimin as soon as possible, now that you have your rings, feels urgent and immediate.

“Yeah, we need an officiant,” Jimin agrees with a groan, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’ll ask Yoongi if he knows anyone who can help us out.” His quick-thinking response offers a glimmer of hope, suggesting a possible solution to your dilemma.

“We’ll ask him together,” you say playfully, running your fingers teasingly over Jimin’s chest. Reluctantly, you slide off him and get out of bed. “Come on, let’s get dressed.” Your voice carries a mix of anticipation and mischief, hinting at the adventure you’re about to embark on together as you prepare to speak with Yoongi.

Together, you hastily dress, the thrill of your mission adding a sense of urgency to your movements. You rush down the stairs and make your way outside, heading straight for Yoongi’s cottage with excitement propelling your steps. The anticipation of making your spontaneous wedding plans a reality fills the air.

You knock on the door, expecting a quick response, but when none comes, you decide not to waste any time. “Forget it,” you mutter, pushing the door open with determination. Your eagerness to speak with Yoongi outweighs any hesitation about barging in unannounced, driven by your desire to make your wedding plans a reality.

Yoongi and Hoseok are still asleep when you enter, and you briefly regret interrupting their rest. However, you remember that Yoongi told you to seek his help with your wedding planning, so you press on. With Jimin behind you, you approach Yoongi and gently poke his face to wake him. “Yoon, wake up,” you whisper, trying to rouse him without causing too much of a disturbance.

Yoongi grumbles, slowly stirring from sleep.

“What?” He mumbles, his voice thick with grogginess. His half-asleep state makes him sound less than enthusiastic, but the familiar tone in his voice reassures you that he’s ready to hear what you have to say.

“Do you know anyone who can officiate our wedding?” You ask, a bright smile on your face as you observe Hoseok stirring awake beside Yoongi.

Yoongi groans, his voice heavy with sleep as he mutters, “Yeah, I know someone.”

“Great, just give me their number, and we’ll leave you alone,” you say, trying to minimize the disruption of his sleep. Although you feel a twinge of guilt for waking him, you reassure yourself that he would be up soon anyway, hoping your request doesn’t cause too much inconvenience.

“You already have it,” Yoongi grumbles, his voice still thick with sleep as he turns over in bed to face Hoseok, who is now fully awake.

“What do you mean?” Jimin asks from your side, his curiosity evident in his voice. He looks between you and Yoongi, trying to understand the situation.

“I got ordained a couple of weeks ago, after our wedding talk,” Yoongi explains, still facing away from you as he speaks. His words catch you off guard, a pleasant surprise as you realize he anticipated your need for an officiant. This unexpected gesture of support and forethought from Yoongi fills you with gratitude and admiration for his thoughtfulness.

“You did?” Your eyes widen in surprise and your heart swells with love for your best friend. The unexpected gesture leaves you feeling incredibly grateful and touched by Yoongi’s support. You can’t help but feel an overwhelming urge to hug him and show your appreciation for his thoughtfulness.

“I had a feeling you might want to elope or have an intimate ceremony,” Yoongi says, his voice still heavy with sleep. “Let me guess—you want to get married today.” Despite his groggy state, he sits up, turning to face you. His bare chest is on display, but you focus your gaze on his slightly puffy face, your excitement building as his words confirm he understands your plans.

“Yeah, we do,” Jimin confirms, his hand reaching out to find yours, intertwining his fingers with yours. The touch is intimate, a silent affirmation of your shared desire to get married today.

“I’ll marry you to each other. That was the whole point anyway,” Yoongi says with a casual, dismissive tone, but his voice is thick with love. His intentions are clear, and the smile playing on his lips confirms his genuine happiness for you and Jimin. His commitment to officiating your wedding adds a special touch, turning the moment into one of deep affection and anticipation.

“Thank you so much, Yoon,” you say, your voice filled with gratitude as your eyes well up with tears. Letting go of Jimin’s hand, you wrap Yoongi in a heartfelt hug. The warmth of his body and the friendly pat on your back from his hands offer comfort and reinforce the depth of your friendship.

It’s a touching moment of friendship and appreciation for Yoongi’s willingness to play such an important role in your special day.

“No problem,” Yoongi replies, giving Jimin a playful thumbs up behind your back. “Now, off you go so I can properly wake up with my boyfriend.” His words are lighthearted and teasing, infusing a touch of humor to the moment and subtly hinting that he wants some privacy with Hoseok.

You chuckle and release Yoongi from the hug, offering him a grateful smile. “Yes, of course! Sorry for the intrusion, but thank you so much,” you say, your tone lighthearted and full of appreciation.

Your smile is radiant, a reflection of the overwhelming happiness and love you feel. You can’t possibly contain your joy as you grab Jimin’s hand and pull him outside, eager to share your excitement and anticipation for the day ahead. Your enthusiasm is contagious, and Jimin’s grip on your hand tightens, ready to embark on this special journey with you.

“I can’t wait!” you exclaim, your voice brimming with giddiness as you practically bounce around Jimin. Your excitement is palpable, and your energy is infectious. In response, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, giving you a deep, passionate kiss that conveys his own eagerness and love.

The embrace feels like a promise of the beautiful day ahead and the many more to come.

It feels as though your souls are intertwined in a beautiful dance, swirling together in perfect harmony. The overwhelming love you feel fills every corner of your heart, making you ache with anticipation to marry Jimin. The closeness between you, the way your hearts beat in sync, makes it clear that this is the love you’ve always dreamed of.

Jimin gently pulls away, locking his gaze with yours. “Now we just have to call everyone,” he says with a smile, his excitement evident. “But let’s have some breakfast first.”

You nod, your heart fluttering with love as you and Jimin walk back to the house hand in hand. Together, you grab something to eat while you look at your phone, deciding who to call and invite. You start with your sister, eager to share the good news. When you tell her, she yells in excitement before breaking down in happy sobs, promising that she, Jungkook, and the rest of your friends will come over right away.

After finishing your meal, you seek out Taehyung to share the exciting news about your wedding taking place later today. When you tell him, his face lights up with happiness and anticipation. He can’t wait to attend the ceremony and celebrate this special day with you and Jimin.

“Love, you don’t have a wedding dress,” Jimin says, his eyes filled with concern over the oversight. But you smile, brushing it off. The lack of a wedding dress doesn’t bother you in the slightest; your focus is on the joy of marrying Jimin and celebrating your love with those closest to you.

“I don’t need a traditional white wedding dress,” you reassure Jimin, your excitement evident. “I already have the perfect dress.” With that, you pull out the flowery dress Jimin bought for you two years ago, a dress that holds sentimental value. The sight of the dress brings back fond memories, and you know it will make your wedding day even more meaningful. Jimin’s gift now becomes a beautiful symbol of your love and the journey you’ve shared together.

You watch as Jimin’s eyes fill with tears, mirroring your own emotional response. “I don’t care about tradition,” you say, your voice tender and sincere. “I care about you, and I love this dress that you gave me.” Your words convey the depth of your affection for Jimin and the sentimental value of the dress.

Jimin sniffles as he walks over to you, wrapping you in a heartfelt embrace. “I fucking love you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

You chuckle softly, the intensity of emotion between you two almost tangible. “I love you too,” you respond, your voice full of warmth and sincerity.

Jimin pulls back slightly, a playful glint in his eyes as he asks, “Should I wear a suit?”

“You can if you want, but my only concern is that you’re comfortable,” you say with a mischievous smile, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. “I’m going to be ripping your clothes off at the end of the day anyway, so it’s up to you.” Your teasing words make Jimin burst out in a giggle.

You take your time getting dressed and applying makeup, stealing a glance at Jimin out of the corner of your eye. You watch as he slips on his suit and hat, the ensemble bringing a smile to your face. He looks undeniably dapper, though in your eyes, Jimin would look good in anything.

Hand in hand, you and Jimin walk out of your bedroom and descend the stairs, the anticipation building with each step. As you reach the living room, you’re greeted by the sight of your family and closest friends, all gathered and dressed up, their faces beaming with joy. Your eyes meet those of your sister, Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Soo-ah, Ara, and Ha-rin, all of them warmly smiling at you and Jimin. The warmth and love in the room envelop you both, creating a perfect setting for the special day ahead.

Your eyes begin to well up with tears as you take in the sight of your family and friends gathered to celebrate your special day. You start to understand why your sister was so emotional on her wedding day—the overwhelming sense of love, support, and unity is almost too much to contain. The realization of how significant this moment is fills you with a deep, heartfelt joy.

“Where do you want to get married?” Yoongi asks, his eyes reflecting genuine interest as he addresses both you and Jimin. The question holds a sense of anticipation, as though he’s ready to help make your dream ceremony a reality wherever you choose.

“Outside in nature. We have to ride there on horseback,” you announce with a pleased smile, grabbing Jimin’s hand as you envision your dream wedding. The thought of saying your vows surrounded by the beauty of the natural world, riding to the ceremony on horseback, fills you with excitement.

“You’re lucky we’re all on horseback,” your sister grunts, gently caressing her growing belly.

“And you had no issue letting her ride a horse?” You ask Jungkook with disbelief, clearly surprised by his decision. His choice seems at odds with the usual precautions he has taken during her pregnancy, and you can’t help but express your astonishment.

“She’s a grown woman and a skilled rider. I’m not about to argue with her on that,” Jungkook responds, his voice confident as he defends his decision. His mischievous smile reveals his trust in your sister's abilities and his decision to respect her autonomy.

“Damn right I am,” your sister retorts with a grin, grabbing Jungkook’s hand and leading him outside.

You hand the rings to Yoongi, your trust in him evident in your gesture. “I want you to present them to us when the moment comes,” you tell him, entrusting him with a crucial role in your wedding ceremony.

Yoongi takes the rings from you and carefully places them in the pocket of his black jeans. His deliberate action reassures you that the rings are safe with him.

“Let’s get you two married,” Yoongi announces with a grin, leading the way to the stables alongside you, Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon, Seokjin and Hoseok. As you prepare to saddle up, you can feel the anticipation in the air, the group united in the shared excitement of the day ahead.

You gently pat Mikrokosmos on her head as you tack her up, leading her out of the stables. As you meet Jimin outside, your hand instinctively finds his, and together you guide your horses toward the house where the others are waiting.

You gallop out to the perfect spot, the wind rushing past you and your companions. There’s a serene, unspoken understanding between you all as you ride. The silence that envelops you adds to the magic of the moment, as you take in the breathtaking beauty of the open land and the anticipation of the ceremony to come.

The only sounds are the rhythmic hoofbeats and the gentle breeze.

As you finally approach the spot, your heart swells with recognition and joy. The intimate clearing, framed by trees and shrubs with the majestic mountains as a backdrop, feels like a scene from a dream. Fields of bluebonnets and wildflowers you’ve yet to identify create a vibrant, fragrant carpet. You guide Mikrokosmos to a gentle stop and gracefully dismount, allowing the breathtaking beauty to wash over you. For a moment, you stand in awe, absorbing the serene landscape, as Jimin and the rest of your loved ones arrive, matching your shared sense of wonder.

Taehyung takes in the surrounding nature, his expression curious. “What’s so special about this place?” He asks, his gaze sweeping over the vibrant wildflowers and picturesque backdrop.

“This is where we had sex for the first time,” Jimin reveals, his hand tenderly caressing your cheek, sending a thrill down your spine.

Taehyung grunts and rolls his eyes, a playful smirk on his lips. “You guys are so gross,” he teases, but there’s an undercurrent of fondness in his voice.

“I think it’s incredibly sweet and romantic,” Soo-ah chimes in, walking up to you with a warm smile on her face.

“After what I heard you and Ara do in the stables, I don’t think you’re one to talk,” you retort, a playful huff in your tone. Your teasing jab at Taehyung immediately silences him.

The group chuckles together, their laughter echoing through the serene surroundings. Yoongi steps forward, positioning you and Jimin face-to-face while your friends form a supportive circle around you. Meanwhile, your horses graze quietly in the background.

You can hardly contain your excitement, your body trembling with joy and love. The setting holds a special place in your heart, as it is deeply meaningful for both you and Jimin. The sheer perfection of the moment and the location fills you with gratitude and anticipation, knowing that there couldn’t be a more fitting or beautiful place for your wedding.

“Are you ready?” Yoongi asks, his voice soft and warm. His gentle smile is filled with genuine affection, and his eyes sparkle with love as he looks at you and Jimin.

You both nod, grinning like fools in love—because you are. The anticipation swells within you, knowing you’re about to marry your childhood friend, your longtime crush, your soulmate. This moment is the culmination of a beautiful journey, and your hearts are ready to take the next step together.

Jimin removes his hat and hands it to his brother, a casual yet deliberate gesture. As he runs his hand through his hair, you can’t help but be drawn to him, knowing how that move always gets your heart racing and turning you on.

Yoongi takes a deep breath, smiling warmly at the gathered guests. “Welcome, friends and family. We’re here to celebrate the union of these two wonderful souls. Today, we’re witnesses to their commitment to love and their choice to spend their lives together. Let’s share in their joy and support them on this beautiful journey.” His words set a heartfelt tone for the ceremony, inviting everyone to join in the celebration of your love and dedication to each other.

“Jimin, you’re up first. I hope you prepared some vows,” Yoongi says with a chuckle, eliciting laughter from the rest of the party. You don’t mind the light-hearted banter; in fact, it helps ease the slight nervousness coursing through your veins.

Jimin’s soft smile grows wider, showcasing his perfect crooked teeth and those endearing dimples. “My love,” he begins, his voice filled with affection. “I’ve loved you for so long, since we were kids, and my love for you has only grown stronger. Sometimes, the intensity of it scares me, but I know that with you by my side, there’s nothing to fear. Together, we can face anything, and my love for you feels transcendent, ever-growing and evolving. I know I’m flawed and have made mistakes, but your unwavering love has been my anchor. I’m so grateful for you and your love. I promise to cherish you forever, to fill our days with happiness, adventure, and boundless love. I’m excited to share my life with you, to build a family with you. All my love is yours, and it always will be.”

His heartfelt vows resonate deeply, conveying his profound commitment and adoration for you.

As you hold Jimin’s hand, a wave of emotion washes over you, making your hands suddenly feel sweaty. Gazing into his soft brown eyes, you see a world of love and devotion reflected back at you. His eyes speak volumes about his boundless affection for you, and you can’t help but feel a lump form in your throat. The depth of his emotions stirs something profound within you, filling you with an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude.

Jimin smiles at you, his eyes brimming with tears of emotion. You watch as a few slip down his cheeks, his vulnerability touching your heart. Your instinct is to reach out and gently wipe away his tears, but you resist, allowing him to fully experience this profound moment.

Yoongi turns to you with a gentle reminder, “It’s your turn,” his words prompting you to take the next step in your vows. His supportive gaze encourages you, and you take a moment to gather your thoughts and emotions.

You chuckle nervously, mustering all the love you have for this incredible man. “Jimin, my love,” you begin, “I’ve loved you since we were kids, but my love for you developed slowly over the years. It took me time to realize my feelings, but they’ve always been there, just waiting to be unlocked. I love you with all my heart; you are my soulmate, and I adore your heart, your soul, and your kindness. I love you so much that it should be illegal, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, building a family together.”

You pause as tears begin to flow, overwhelmed with emotion. You clench his hands in yours and continue, “With you, I’ve found my home. Home is where my heart is, and my heart is with you.” Your heartfelt vows touch everyone present, the intensity of your love clear in every word you say.

Jimin starts to lean in for a kiss, but Yoongi playfully interrupts, placing a hand between you. “Wait, the rings first,” he chuckles, and the rest of the party joins in the laughter.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as Yoongi asks if you want to marry each other. The anticipation builds, but when you both say yes, your heart swells with happiness. Yoongi hands you your rings, and the exchange of this symbol of your love and commitment fills the moment with significance and emotion.

Jimin takes your left hand in his, carefully sliding off your engagement ring. He transfers it to your right hand, placing it gently on your ring finger. Then, with deliberate tenderness, he slides the wedding ring onto your left hand, his movements slow and precise. Once the ring is in place, a surge of happiness washes over you. You gaze at the beautiful ring on your finger, admiring the way the silver and gold intertwine perfectly. The design symbolizes your unity, reflecting your journey together and the depth of your love.

You examine the ring in your hand, its engraving catching the light—a delicate inscription of your name and the date you first met. The thought that you both carry each other’s name with you on your rings fills you with warmth and a sense of deep love.

You take Jimin’s left hand, your touch gentle but steady. As you find his ring finger, you slowly slide the ring onto it, your movements deliberate and heartfelt. The moment feels sacred, the symbolism of placing the ring on his finger marking the beginning of your new life together. You watch his face light up with joy, and you know that this exchange of rings signifies not just your love, but the promises you've made to walk hand in hand for the rest of your lives.

When the ring is securely on Jimin’s finger, you both lift your gazes to meet each other’s eyes. The moment feels charged with emotion, as if the world stands still for just the two of you. Then, you turn your head to Yoongi, seeking his next words to finalize the ceremony. Your anticipation grows as you await the moment that will officially seal your union.

“Yes, yes, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss,” Yoongi declares, his tone almost nonchalant, as if he can hardly be bothered. But you know the truth—his words carry warmth and a deep sense of joy for you both. His casual delivery brings a touch of humor and charm to the ceremony, and the affection in his eyes reveals just how much this moment means to him.

You grin widely as you lean in to kiss your husband. This kiss feels different, charged with a new sense of intimacy and commitment. Shivers run through your body as you feel giddy, overwhelmed with joy and happiness.

As your lips meet, you don’t pull apart. Instead, you stay locked in the kiss, savoring the love. Jimin holds you tight and pushes you back gently, making you hover in the air as he deepens the kiss. The embrace is both tender and passionate, sealing your vows with a kiss that signifies the start of your new journey together.

Your friends and family erupt in cheers, catcalls, and applause, filling the air with their excitement. They shout congratulations and well-wishes, creating an atmosphere of celebration and joy around you. Their enthusiastic response amplifies the happiness of the moment, making you feel truly surrounded by love and support as you and Jimin share your first moments as a married couple.

Jimin lifts you back up, and you both pull away, gasping for air before bursting into laughter. The moment feels lighthearted and full of joy. You lace your fingers with his, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and devotion. It’s as if you can’t get enough of him, your heart overflowing with affection for your husband.

“Congratulations!” Yoongi says with a beaming smile, and the rest of the party echoes his sentiment, surrounding you and Jimin with hugs and kisses. You’re showered with love and affection from all sides, your heart swelling with gratitude. As tears of joy stream down your face, you realize how truly blessed you are to have such supportive and loving people in your life. This outpouring of emotion makes the moment unforgettable, truly sealing the beauty of your special day.

“I’m crashing at Jessi and Kook’s tonight,” Taehyung declares with a playful grin, hugging you tightly. “Because I know you two are gonna do nasty things I’d rather not hear or see.” His teasing tone brings a lighthearted touch to the moment, and his affection for you is clear in the way he holds you close.

You can’t help but burst out laughing at Taehyung’s comment—it’s true, and everyone knows it. The anticipation of getting home and fuck the shit out of Jimin, your husband, fills you with too much excitement. You’re eager to rip his clothes off and lose yourself in the passion and intimacy of your new life together.

After spending a few moments catching up with your friends and family, you and Jimin say your farewells. You mount your horses, waving goodbye to everyone as they prepare to ride back to Bora Ranch. The journey home to Bell Ranch with Jimin feels serene and special, as you reflect on the incredible day you’ve had and the future that lies ahead. The ride back allows you to savor the peaceful moments together, anticipating the start of your new life as a married couple.

You and Jimin race across the open fields, urging your horses forward as excitement pulses through you both. The wind whips your dress around your thighs, but you pay no mind—you can’t wait to get back and have sex with your husband once you reach the sanctuary of your home.

When you arrive back at the ranch, you ride straight up to the stables, untack your horses, and settle them comfortably in their stalls. The moment you’re done, you and Jimin turn to each other, the anticipation palpable. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, unable to contain your desire any longer.

You push Jimin against a stall, your eyes locked on his as you let out a low, throaty growl. “I want you, Jimin,” you whisper, the words dripping with desire, as your breath mingles with his.

When you look into Jimin’s eyes, they are completely dark with desire. The intensity of his gaze sends a rush of arousal through you, and you can feel the heat between you two. There’s no doubt that your panties are already soaked, your anticipation for what’s to come pushing you closer to the edge.

“Shit, I want you too,” Jimin pants, his breath hot and heavy as you touch him through his pants.

You lean in close, whispering in his ear, “Let’s do it on the bed, like old married people.”

Jimin chuckles, allowing you to lead him out of the stables and back to your house. The playful anticipation between you two is palpable. Once inside, you pull him close and knock his hat off before kissing him hungrily.

Your lips move from his mouth to his neck, planting kisses and gentle bites as you moan against his skin.

Your hands glide eagerly over Jimin’s chest as you attempt to unbutton his shirt, but your impatience gets the best of you. Instead, you tear the shirt open, buttons flying to the ground as you reveal his toned chest. The sight of his exposed skin makes your breath catch and your lips part in anticipation, licking them as you prepare to feast your eyes and hands on him.

You swiftly pull the shirt off Jimin, leaving him shirtless in front of you. His bare chest and the desire in his eyes make your pulse race. In response, you reach behind to unzip your dress, letting it gracefully slip off your body and fall to the floor.

Jimin’s eyes widen in astonishment as he gazes at you standing before him in just a bra. “You weren’t wearing panties this whole time?” He asks, his voice filled with lust and a hint of surprise.

You chuckle softly, enjoying Jimin’s reaction to your revelation. Moving closer, you tease him by running your fingers playfully over his pants, feeling his dick pressing against the fabric.

With a sultry tone and a smoldering gaze, you draw out the words, “No panties today,” savoring the look of desire in Jimin’s eyes. You bat your eyelashes flirtatiously and bite your lip.

“My nasty girl,” Jimin murmurs, his voice thick with a blend of lust and love. His hands grip your hips firmly, drawing you closer to him. As he moves in to kiss your neck, he adds a playful bite, promising a purple necklace as a mark of your passion.

Jimin’s breath brushes against your ear as he pants, “I want to fuck my wife.”

The raw desire in his voice sends shivers down your spine, igniting an electric anticipation within you.

“Then take me to bed and fuck my brains out,” you moan, the intensity of your desire for Jimin nearly overwhelming. Your voice is laden with lust and love, and your chest feels like it's about to burst from the sheer force of your emotions.

Jimin’s strong hands grip your hips firmly, lifting you effortlessly. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, holding on tight as he carries you through the house and up the stairs. nst yours fuels your desire, promising a night of unrestrained passion and closeness.

You feel Jimin’s heart pounding against your chest, the rhythm a sweet symphony to your ears. When he playfully tosses you onto the bed, you burst into laughter, feeling a rush of excitement. You spread your legs, allowing him to see just how wet you already are for him.

“Fucking hell. How long have you been like this?” Jimin exclaims, his voice filled with astonishment and desire as he takes in the sight of you.

His gaze shifts down to his pants, noticing the wet stains there. “You’re dripping,” he remarks, a mixture of surprise and eagerness in his tone.

“I just can’t wait for my husband to fuck me,” you say, your voice dripping with desire. As you teasingly touch your clit, Jimin lets out a groan, a blend of frustration and intense lust.

You move to the edge of the bed where Jimin stands, your eyes locked on his. With a deliberate, teasing smile, you unzip his pants and pull them down along with his boxers, revealing his neglected, hard cock. It springs free, standing tall and proud, a bead of precum glistening at the tip.

The sight of him makes you lick your lips in anticipation. Without hesitation, you grab his cock and wrap your lips around him, surprising him with your eagerness.

Jimin’s taste is intoxicating, and you can’t get enough of him. You eagerly take him into your mouth, sucking him with a fervor that makes him moan with pleasure. The sounds he makes—obscene and raw—intensify your desire, fueling your passion for him.

You moan around Jimin’s dick, the vibrations sending shivers through him. His hands find purchase in your hair, his fingers tenderly stroking your cheeks as you hold his gaze, the intimacy of the moment building between you. As you look into his eyes, you can feel him twitch in your mouth.

“Love, I’m seriously not going to last long, and I want to come inside you,” Jimin tells you, his voice filled with urgency and desire. He gently tries to pull you away, his hands on your shoulders, revealing just how close he is as he tries to pull you off his dick.

You release Jimin’s cock and look up into his lustful eyes, your own gaze filled with longing and confidence. “I want you to come more than once—we have all the time we need, love,” you say, a playful edge to your voice.

You wrap your warm mouth around him again, this time with more urgency and speed. Your cheeks hollow as you increase your pace, your tongue expertly teasing his frenulum. The sensation makes him gasp for breath, his hands finding your hair and pulling on it gently, a sign of his overwhelming pleasure. The combination of your soft tongue and the intensity of your actions sends waves of ecstasy through Jimin, his grip tightening in your hair.

Jimin grunts above you, the sounds of his pleasure intensifying. You look up at him, taking in the utterly overwhelmed expression on his face and knowing he’s close to his orgasm. Determined to push him over the edge, you stroke the part of him that doesn’t fit in your mouth as you try to take him deeper.

You feel his dick hit the back of your throat, but you relax your jaw, focusing on breathing through your nose.

As you continue to pleasure him with your mouth, you reach down with your other hand to play with his balls. The added sensation makes him throb instantly in your mouth, and you respond by moaning even more around him.

Jimin moans your name as he pulls his cock from your mouth. With a few strokes, he releases his warm, white seed onto your face, while you stick out your tongue, eager to catch some of it and swallow.

He grunts, panting for air, as he empties the last of his release. As he relaxes, you move in to tease the head of his dick with your tongue, playfully licking it like a lollipop.

Jimin whimpers softly from overstimulation, but his gaze is filled with love and adoration as he looks at you. “My nasty girl,” he murmurs, his voice laced with affection. “You look so beautiful with my cum on your face.”

He reaches behind you and deftly unclasps your bra, allowing it to fall to the floor. As the fabric slips away, a trail of his seed runs from your face down to your breasts, and he groans at the sight.

He gently pushes you back onto the bed and straddles you, his now softening cock brushing against your skin. You don’t mind; in fact, you savor the intimate moment, the closeness of your bodies, and the tender weight of him on top of you. His gaze locks with yours, filled with affection and desire.

Jimin shifts his position, moving off the bed and sitting down. He then pulls your body closer to him, positioning you so that your pussy is right in front of his face. His eyes light up with hunger and admiration as he takes in the sight of you.

“I’m gonna taste you now, wifey.”

His words send a wave of desire through you, causing your pussy to clench in response. A moan escapes your lips, and you find yourself yearning for the touch of his lips and tongue on your most sensitive spot.

He wastes no time, immediately diving in with his tongue. His skilled lips find your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you. You instinctively wrap your thighs around his head, resting them on his strong shoulders for support. Meanwhile, your hands grip the sheets tightly, holding on for dear life as he works his magic on you.

Slurping sounds echo through the bedroom, creating a symphony of intimacy and pleasure. Although he’s just begun, you already feel swept away by the sensations he is creating. The intensity of his touch leaves you feeling overwhelmed, as though you're already on the edge of an orgasm.

His tongue vigorously licks your clit, and you find yourself lost in the pleasure he’s giving you. Your wetness amplifies the sensations, making every touch feel intensely magnified. Each stroke of his tongue sends shivers through you.

Jimin’s hands gently part your folds, his touch both tender and purposeful. He lowers his head, his tongue making its way inside you, exploring with an intense, focused attention. The sensation of his tongue entering you sends waves of pleasure through your body, and his expert movements ignite a fire within you.

“Jimin!” As Jimin’s tongue enters you, you can’t help but scream his name, your voice echoing with a mix of pleasure and overwhelming lust.

The soft muscle of his tongue skillfully dives in and out of your entrance, exploring you deeply as far as his tongue can reach. His nose brushes against your clit with each motion, creating an intoxicating combination of sensations. The precise rhythm of his tongue, paired with the stimulating touch of his nose, drives you wild with pleasure, pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

The pleasure is overwhelming as you feel a knot tightening in your stomach. Your orgasm begins to build, slowly but powerfully, taking your breath away with each wave of sensation. The anticipation of release makes your body tremble, your senses on high alert as you inch closer to the peak of release.

Jimin pulls away from your pussy, taking a moment to gaze at you. You’re flushed, sweating, and panting heavily from the intense pleasure he’s been giving you. His lower face glistens with your juices, evidence of your intense arousal and his passionate exploration. The sight of him like this, lost in the moment, is slowly making you lose your mind.

“Come on my face, love,” Jimin commands as he moves back to your pussy. He licks and sucks your folds, his mouth working you over with intense precision. One of his hands finds your clit, his deft fingers expertly rubbing the sensitive bud.

The pleasure is overwhelming as you feel your toes curl and your breath grow short and erratic. Your climax hits you like a freight train, the intensity taking you by surprise. You moan his name loudly, surrendering to the ecstasy as you come on his tongue and face.

He licks you up with an eager intensity, savoring your essence as though he’s drinking you in.

“Fuck, Jimin,” you pant, your voice laden with satisfaction and awe. Jimin finally pulls away from your now sensitive pussy, his lips lingering for a moment before he moves up beside you on the bed. As he joins you, his presence offers comfort and a sense of closeness, allowing you to bask in the afterglow of the intense pleasure he just brought you.

Jimin hovers over you, his breath warm against your skin. As you notice his now fully erect cock, he leans down to whisper in your ear, “You made me hard again, wifey.”

His words send a thrill through you, the playful intimacy of his tone making your pulse quicken.

“Already?” you pant, a mix of surprise and lust in your voice.

“Yeah, my wifey just drives me wild,” he groans, his voice thick with lust.

Oh God, every time he calls you ‘wifey,’ your pussy clenches involuntarily. The sweet intimacy of the term sends a wave of desire through you, and you wonder if he’s aware of the effect it has on you.

Jimin lies down beside you, a playful glint in his eyes and a chuckle of lust escaping his lips. “Come and ride me,” he invites, his tone teasing yet filled with desire.

Your whole body tingles with anticipation, and even though you’re tired and overwhelmed with lust and love, you find the energy to rise and straddle Jimin. You take his dick in your hand, aligning it with your entrance before slowly lowering yourself onto him. The sensation of him stretching you is intense, the smooth glide enhancing the pleasure for both of you. You savor every inch of him, and the stretch is oh so exquisite and intense. He fills you up completely, an intoxicating pleasure that makes your breath catch and your pulse race.

You brace yourself with your hands on his chiseled chest and begin to ride him, bouncing with a rhythm that matches your pounding heartbeat. The sensation of his cock inside you intensifies with each movement, sending waves of ecstasy through your body. As you shift your weight and grind against him, the pleasure deepens, drawing out gasps and moans from both of you.

“Fuck, my wife is so fucking hot,” Jimin praises, his voice heavy with lust as you ride him. Your pussy tightens around him, and you feel a powerful wave of arousal knowing how much he enjoys watching you take control. The sensation of him inside you is overwhelming, both physically and emotionally, and you know it won’t take much to push you to the brink of another orgasm.

His words of admiration intensify your pleasure, the feeling of his thick cock filling you up adding to your imminent unraveling.

“Jimin, you’re gonna make me come again,” you pant, your voice laced with both pleasure and exhaustion. Though your body feels tired, you continue to ride him, driven by the intense desire to reach another orgasm.

“Are you close?” Jimin asks, his voice thick with lust and anticipation. His intense gaze meets yours, the desire in his eyes mirroring your own. His question fuels your urgency, and you can feel your body tightening with the approach of another climax.

You nod eagerly, biting your lip to hold back the pleasure, “Yes!”

Jimin’s fingers find your clit again, and even though you’re sensitive, the sensation is intensely pleasurable. He rubs the nub with expert precision, sending shockwaves of ecstasy through you. The combination of his touch and the fullness inside you brings you to the brink, your body about to erupt like a volcano.

The pleasure is overwhelming, teetering on the edge of being too intense to take. As you reach your peak, you scream Jimin’s name, your voice echoing through the room. Your climax ripples through you, every nerve ending on fire as your body tightens around his cock. The release is a burst of euphoria, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed by the ecstasy he brings you.

You catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you steady yourself on Jimin’s chest. The afterglow of your climax leaves you feeling both tired and utterly full of love. His warmth beneath your hands grounds you.

“So good, my love. Now relax while I take care of the rest, wifey,” Jimin murmurs with tenderness. He turns you around gently and guides you back onto the mattress, his dick still nestled inside you. As he adjusts his position, he sinks deeper, eliciting a moan from you at the intensity of the sensation.

Jimin pulls your legs to the side, opening you up to him, and then begins to thrust his cock into you with a steady, powerful rhythm. Each thrust fills you deeply, his pace unwavering as he seeks to deliver intense pleasure.

The hypnotic motion of Jimin’s hips captivates you, each precise movement drawing you deeper into the moment. His scars catch the light as they move with him, a testament to his strength and resilience. There's something truly magical about witnessing this intimate dance, the rhythm of his body resonating with yours. You can’t help but get lost in him, this man who is now your husband, the one who makes your heart race and your soul sing.

You feel as though you can barely withstand the intensity of the experience. It’s not painful—in fact, it’s the opposite. Waves of pleasure ripple through your entire body, creating a sensation that feels simultaneously like floating and drowning in ecstasy. The tingle is unusual, yet deeply satisfying, and you find yourself reveling in the overwhelming delight. The sensation is both exhilarating and surreal, leaving you craving more of this extraordinary feeling.

Jimin lowers his mouth to your neck, his teeth gently grazing your skin as he bites and kisses you. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, making you squirm beneath him with a mixture of pleasure and lust.

As he moves up to kiss you deeply on the mouth, the intensity of the moment heightens. The deep, passionate kiss perfectly synchronizes with his thrusts, amplifying the pleasure for both of you. His lips on yours, combined with the intimate rhythm of his body, create an electric connection that leaves you breathless and aching for more.

Your hands grip Jimin’s biceps firmly, drawing him closer to you. When he pulls away for a moment, you lock eyes with him, staring into his deep brown orbs. You see your whole universe reflected in them, and it fuels your desire for more—for everything he can give you.

You can’t take the distance for long, pulling him down to you again and kissing him with an intensity that feels like your life depends on it. The kiss is a passionate, all-consuming expression of your love and need for him, and it binds you even closer together in the moment.

“I’m gonna come soon,” Jimin pants as he pulls back from your kiss. His breathless voice conveys the intensity of his desire, the pleasure he feels evident in his expression, with the way that his nose is scrunching so cutely.

“Come inside and get me pregnant,” you pant, biting your lip and moaning his name.

Jimin’s eyes widen in surprise as he stares at you. “Pregnant? But you’re on the pill,” he blurts out, his expression a mix of shock and wonder.

You squeeze Jimin’s biceps tightly, your voice thick with both love and lust. “Not anymore,” you reveal, a hint of determination in your gaze. “I haven’t been taking them for a month.”

The weight of your confession hangs in the air, and you can see the surprise in his eyes.

For a moment, Jimin remains completely still inside you, his eyes locked with yours, reflecting disbelief and a touch of awe. The depth of your confession catches him off guard, and you can see the range of emotions playing across his face. The intimacy of the moment deepens as he processes the significance of your words, the silence charged with anticipation and the weight of what this decision could mean for your future.

“I said I wanted your kids. I wasn’t joking. Now fill me up with your seed, Jimin.”

He slowly starts to move again, his breath coming out in short, measured puffs. Running a hand through his hair, he bites his lip in a mix of concentration and desire, his expression shifting from disbelief to raw, intense passion.

You feel the coil within you tighten rapidly. The pleasure builds swiftly, spiraling out of your control, and you find yourself unable to hold back. Without warning, the coil snaps, sending you crashing into another climax. You clench tightly around his cock, a moan of his name escaping your lips as you surrender to the wave of ecstasy that consumes you.

“Shit,” Jimin groans as your walls tighten around him, hugging his cock close. He thrusts into you a few more times, each movement charged with intensity, before he releases inside you, filling you with his seed.

Jimin huffs above you, his breathing heavy as he pulls his sweaty bangs away from his face. A wide smile stretches across his lips as he gazes down at you, and you return the smile, your heart overflowing with love. He leans down to kiss you tenderly, his cock still nestled inside you, giving occasional twitches that make you chuckle.

His groan reverberates into your mouth as he whispers, “Wifey, I love you.”

His voice is husky with emotion, and you can feel the depth of his affection in those simple words. The tenderness of the moment, combined with the enduring intimacy of your bond, envelops you both in a wave of warmth and love.

You chuckle softly, your voice filled with warmth and affection. “Hubby, I love you,” you say, your words a playful echo of his.

Jimin gently pulls out of you, savoring the moment before he falls to your side, resting beside you.

You feel some of his seed trickle out of you, but the sensation is a natural part of the intimacy you share, and you embrace it without concern. Turning onto your side, you face Jimin, and he mirrors your movement, meeting your gaze with tenderness. The simple act of being close to him fills you with warmth and satisfaction, the afterglow of your love making soothing your body and soul.

He notices the lingering traces of his seed on your face and gently brushes it away with his fingers, chuckling softly. “You still have some semen on your face,” he remarks playfully, his touch light and tender. “But you still look incredibly hot.”

“And I’m sorry about your neck—it’s kinda purple now,” Jimin says with a chuckle, his fingers lightly tracing over the tender spot. You move closer to him, your hand finding his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch.

“I don’t mind,” you reassure him with a loving tone and a gentle smile. Your words are filled with warmth and acceptance, conveying that the marks are a sign of your closeness and shared passion.

“We should probably clean up,” Jimin suggests, beginning to rise, but you stop him with a firm squeeze of your hand on his bicep.

“No, please just stay here with me. We can take a bath together later,” you plead, your voice soft and filled with affection. Jimin sees the warmth in your eyes and smiles, giving in to your request. He settles back down beside you, wrapping an arm around you. The comfort of being close and the promise of a relaxing bath later creates a sense of serenity, allowing you both to enjoy the moment of rest and closeness.

“You know, your vows were really beautiful,” Jimin says, his voice gentle and filled with exhaustion, love, and happiness. His words carry the depth of his appreciation for the heartfelt promises you made to him, reflecting the strong emotional bond you share.

“Thank you. So were yours,” you murmur, leaning in to capture his plush lips in a tender, lingering kiss. The soft press of your lips expresses your appreciation and love, deepening the intimate bond between you and making the moment all the more special.

Jimin gently runs his hand through your hair, his touch soothing and affectionate. “What you said about home—I think you’re right,” he says, his voice soft and filled with contemplation.

You give Jimin a questioning look. “Which part?” you ask, curiosity evident in your tone. Your eyes search his face, eager to understand which aspect of your heartfelt vows resonated most with him.

Jimin takes a deep breath, filling his chest with the love that lingers in the air between you. “Home is where my heart is, and my heart is with you,” he says, his voice filled with emotion. His words echo your own from earlier, emphasizing the profound bond and shared understanding you have found in each other.

“Oh, that part,” you chuckle, seeing Jimin’s eyes well up with tears once more. Your heart swells with affection as you lean in to kiss him. The soft brush of your lips against his ignites a cascade of tender, heartfelt kisses—one after another, until you lose count of how many times your lips have met.

With your hands, you cup Jimin’s cheeks, feeling the warmth of his skin against your palms. His musky scent envelops you, filling you with a sense of deep contentment and love like you’ve never known before. Your heart seems to beat in perfect sync with his, an unspoken rhythm that binds you together.

His eyes shimmer with tears, but you find solace in the fact that you have each other. The unbreakable bond between you brings a profound sense of peace. You know with certainty that you will share your lives, facing whatever comes together. This bond is more than just love; it’s a soul-deep recognition that you have married your true soulmate.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

Remember the Q&A that is coming in the Epilogue— if you want to send in some questions for the characters, you can do it now (in a few days I’ll write the epilogue) → Ask the characters (or me), anything ❣️

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next (epilogue) →

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

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everettswritings · 1 year ago

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I have nothing to say other than the usual “this is purely SFW, NSFW isn’t welcome. Begone!”

Hollyberry definitely spoils you, but Golden Cheese? Dear god, you’ll be spoiled rotten to the very core!

Just look at an item and she’ll be like “Oh, you want it? Here you go, it’s yours!”

Literally just gives you whatever you want whenever you want, there’s no stopping her. I genuinely can’t emphasize this enough!

Very much enjoys dressing you up, she can’t help but love to put you in adorable outfits!

Very, VERY affectionate! Even when you’re just chilling, coloring or something, she’ll be right next to you! There’s no way to pry this woman off of you

Kisses and hugs are definitely regular occurrences, almost a twenty four hour thing

Calls you the following: my baby, precious, my treasure, littlest, sweetest, cutie, and a lot more that would take a century to list

She is always incredibly delighted when you call her “mommy”, “mama”, or whatever! The first couple times you did that she was overjoyed to say the least

Everything you color or draw immediately goes straight to a place of honor higher than the fridge! That’s right, she hangs your works on the wall! There’s actually an entire wall dedicated to all your masterpieces, it’s a miracle that it’s not completely filled in yet.

Baby talk to the point where you can’t even understand her, even in a regressed state. Her speech has a tendency to devolve into verbal keyboard smashes because she wuvs you so much!(sorry for making you read the word “wuvs”)

Impure regression? Haha! Don’t even think about it! She will fix it effective immediately, she can’t have her little baby feeling sad or upset in any capacity!

And that’s it, everything else I can think of is more detail on how she’d spoil you to death. I was thinking about maybe including the other Cookies from this update, like “oh they babysit you when Golden Cheese is busy”, but honestly? With how clingy I head canon her to be I genuinely can’t see that at all! Anyways, have a good one y’all 🫶

#cr kingdom #crk #everetts writings #headcanon #headcanons #crk x reader #golden cheese cookie #golden cheese crk #golden cheese x reader #agere hcs #sfw agere #age regression #Agere #agere headcanons

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m3loria · 1 month ago

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˖﹙ 🌠 ﹚ TOWER SIDE MEMORY.

WHERE yohan thinks his members are the most telling combination of strange.

˖ FEATURING. hong yohan, meliora ensemble. ˖ TIMESTAMP. NOV '19–SEP '22, scene combination. ˖ WARNINGS. swearing, insomnia, mentions of drinking, smoking, fighting, this is not in chronological order. ˖ WORD COUNT. 8.7k ˖ NOTES. happy friday random account viewers, hi jj no.1 yohan stan mega oomf ily btw 😊😊 so i basically sort of kind of plagiarized this because its the oc work of the century.. sorry, it was either this or angst and i can save that for another time!! im an angst lover to my core lowk 💗 i will make these men sad, anyway, warning bc this work is non-linear, i love writing things out of order its so fun 🫶 yohan's the best person for this because hes basically meliora's face and jj wants him so bad 🙂‍↕️ me too honestly (i created him), this work absolutely killed me to write since i debated on how sad i should make each section, not everything is that bad though!! im so sweet cant you see it in my smile 😁😁

OCTOBER 6 2021. LOUVIX AUDIO BUILDING

hwan is low maintenance, yohan doesn’t have to be a genius to know that one.

through observant glances and itching from none other than haneul, he figures that encapsulating silence defines his character. when meeting him firstly, he felt just the slightest bit seen. it’s unlike the groups flurry of extroverts who get uneasy when they don’t receive a text each hour, the two don’t even need to have each other’s numbers.

friendship has never been discreetly established, hwan never verbally establishes anything, he implies it through actions, through baked treats and intricately created charm bracelets.

yohan’s gotten a few cookies, he thinks he’s in the clear.

despite the label of ‘hiatus’, he never exactly rests, not when the members decide to leave anyway. resting would equate to doing nothing, and yohan loathes doing nothing, maybe he should write a song about that.

there’s no time for anything, he’s let off promotions yet there’s still so much to do. hospital visits, meeting attendances, so much catching up he genuinely doesn’t give a thought about when he finally passes out after midnight.

what’s the point of being out on a ‘hiatus’ if the company can’t even attempt to get rid of a few unhealthy tendencies? maybe they want to make way for another stage collapse, that wouldn’t be too daunting. sometimes, he feels like they think he’s a machine instead.

the scrawled lyrics appear as more of diary entries than anything, what the fuck is he writing about again? if this is going like it does in that one story, then a guardian angel will appear to him and finish the whole thing instead.

“aren’t you tired?”

or he guesses hwan.

it isn’t as if it’s the first time he’s ever heard a mutter from the younger, there consistently happens to exist silent mumbles in the background of regular arguments. he usually does give his piece, it simply isn’t loud enough to cut through the ear bleeding sounds of fighting.

well hwan sort of is a guardian angel, unwillingly, in a completely unaware manner, but he acts as a preserver nonetheless. he scrunches his nose at the inquiry, biting his wince back at the screech of the nearby chair. “it’s only been an hour”.

it isn’t an excuse, no, it’s a fact, though he supposes any other member would graciously take the aftermath of silence as an opportunity to attempt a scathing rebuttal, hwan remains silent, much too familiar with using the very own words as a response.

he rubs at his wrist, lethargy staring down lethargy, it’s ironic. it comes sporadically on occasion, but he sometimes feels like yohan’s spitting image, yet the degree of timidity stretches.

“that’s still a lot of sleep missing” he laughs, a quick glance at the scribbled lyrics, he pays no mind to them, it’s typically a team effort, which is pretty caustic considering the lack of definitive teamwork between whatever they write. for once, uneasiness seizes his features, concern, yohan thinks in another life, he’d probably be the group leader. “i mean— i guess i can’t talk about that but uh.. this is your break, for, you know, resting?”

“i’ve spent half the time resting”.

yohan doesn’t find pride in lying, it’s simply effective in moments like this, where someone once again stares him down to inquire about the unhealthy behavior he can’t keep under wraps any longer, it’s to quell worries, it’s a brick wall used to at least conceal something.

but of course, someone so similar can probably spot that one, it isn’t as if he underestimates the other’s intelligence, it’s simply the fact of the prospect being a regular coping mechanism.

“okay hyung”.

his undertone is soft enough that it doesn’t physically irk the older, but it almost appears just the slightest bit condescending, at least he has the pretty smile as a sugar coating device. “i can finish this..”

yohan’s right eye twitches, yet not out of irritation. “no, it’s okay”.

okay is about the worst word to use.

“my handwriting isn’t that bad”.

he snickers, he doesn’t exactly expect that one. “it’s too personal, you might go crazy”.

and the excuses are going to pile up until there are none left, until yohan has to surrender his dignity to admit the fact that he’s scared, that his medication does nothing and the claustrophobic studio has already swallowed him whole.

but until then, nobody cares about that.

he shrugs in reply. “the intimacy is an important factor”.

“i’m gonna scrap it”.

this is probably the longest conversation they’ve had, yes, despite the many lyrical collaborations. the act of stalling is easy, and the simplicity clears the anxiety he felt encapsulating him before the younger entered.

hwan blinks. “or you could let me help”.

help should be a word of contentment, but that uneasiness once again settles, longing for solace in the air of a room like this is a fool’s dream, and yohan thinks it’s been too extensive of a period since he’s properly closed his eyes without fearing what would happen after sleep. sleep itself appears to be a dream, he reaches, his fingers just barely grace its curvatures, and then it slips away once hope emerges in a gleam, taunting, fucking shameful.

in his current circumstance, help could be considered similarly, he yearns for such a thing, yet it’s just barely out of his reach.

his glasses are fogging.

yohan sucks his teeth, now he actually does want to scrap the whole song. “i mean.. i don’t know how we— you would do that”.

he isn’t exactly sure they’re a team in his eyes.

“what? you don’t trust me?”

it could be earnest, but it appears more playful, yohan’s sure hwan is picking such words carefully.

it’s actually the opposite, yohan doesn’t trust himself, which is a stupid thing for such a stubborn person to say aloud, so of course he doesn’t.

“not sure..”

for the first time, his responses dry up, there appears to be no more excuses left behind.

there’s a smile, hwan lords his victory over yohan with that smile. “go to sleep hyung, i can finish the song”.

and it’s the simplicity which moves him, has him standing out of his seat, hand instantly grabbing his sweater. hwan’s smile remains, it’s a rare right, and yohan guesses he has the right to be full of so much pride. “was that a first?”

well now he’s just being cocky.

“i guess” yohan shrugs, he doesn’t divulge the imminent fear of closing his eyes which will probably arise on the walk back, a horror not even the solace of his bed can fend off. “one song”.

hwan doesn’t seem to long for any more. “aye aye captain”.

his nose scrunches, but he guesses it’s pretty funny.

AUGUST 18 2021. HANAGAE BEACH

kiro’s about one of the strangest guys yohan knows, which is the true surprise when considering his debut in meliora as a whole.

they’re all a bit strange, some members allowing for the peculiarities to shine, others instead keeping them restricted until they have to display such oddities for the sake of content. he’s aware that might be a rude thought, but he still holds love for them, eccentric characteristics and all.

and it’s not that kiro causes him to question his sanity, he has a good chunk of the others to condemn for that one, he’s not one of them.

he’s sweet, through the spontaneous peculiarities, he doesn’t make yohan want to rip individual hairs out of his scalp, he simply makes yohan feel indescribably beatific, it’s something about his smile that earns a responding smile. kiro makes yohan happy even with silence, that’s why he’s strange.

and this, for some inconceivable reason he can’t conjure, makes yohan happy, all because of kiro. standing on a beach to watch the sunrise simply causes warmth to encapsulate his heart, it’s cute.

yohan’s always been an early riser, he’s aware kiro’s practically identical to him in that field. comeback seasons been out forever, yet opening eyes at five in the morning to again face the monstrosity of this world is completely mundane, it’s always been mundane, established as its own feat of normalcy since the early teenage years.

when he sees kiro downstairs, hair already brushed and tying his shoes, he blinks;

“what’s going on here?”

he startles, yohan occasionally forgets the members are always so jumpy, he isn’t that frightening, he’s sweet!

“god hyung don’t do that! i didn’t even hear you coming down the stairs!”

it’s adorable, how he remains the slightest bit neurotic, korean stuttered as he stares him face to face. when they first met, kiro could probably only dream of such a prospect, yohan can still make out a fraction of timidity remaining, but in comparison to last year, they’ve improved.

“sorry” his tongue prods at the side of his cheek. “it’s so early, where are you heading?”

and yohan realizes he does sound a lot like hajoon at this moment. well, he can’t win everything.

embarrassment overtakes his features, it manifests in a red tint which is quick to make home on his cheeks, the tips of his ears rapidly reacting in a quicker succession, and listen, yohan is aware it’s the middle of summer, but the place is also extremely air conditioned, unless there’s some secret furnace he’s unaware of.

“i uh— um..”

take your time, he wants to mutter, afraid of being unable to convey that through his stare alone. yohan’s a patient man, and though time is precious, he finds that the comfort of the people in his life outweigh that prospect. “i usually go to the beach to watch the sunrise..”

yohan blinks, he’s unsure of how the answer appeared to slip by so rapidly, or maybe he should scrutinize himself for not allowing the endless possibilities which exist to spring to mind.

“the nearest beach is almost two hours away?”

“well i uh— i mean, i don’t mind just catching a taxi, even if they’re kinda expensive”.

he hums, observing for a moment before clicking his tongue. “do you mind if i join you?”

his reply is exhibited through the acute physical reaction which corresponds with the titular widening of his eyes, as if it’s a travesty having the company of another human being by his side.

that might not be the case, it may just be the idea of spending time with yohan which startles him, or perhaps it’s the question, the tone and weight of each singular word that makes regular inquiries appear so.. irregular.

“do you not want me to?”

“no, no you can come with i was just.. kinda surprised”.

so they do exactly that; continuously muttering on the way, even with the taxi ride stretching to just before the two hour mark, they happen to enjoy themselves much more than they assume.

“so is this a tradition of yours?” he inquires, eyes threatening to flutter closed from the sheer power of the sun, the rays stabbing at his eyes. his right eye twitches, but he doesn’t fret.

“yeah mostly, when i first came to korea this was one of my first visiting spots”.

a smile tugs at yohan’s lips. “that’s cute” he states, basking in the light breeze of the early morning, the rushing of the ocean filling his ears. “do you always come alone?”

kiro appears to attempt a shot at hiding, averting his gaze instantly. “no one wants to wake up early to watch the sunrise” he whispers.

there’s a singular tick before yohan speaks once more; “if you ever want to, you know i’m always up early”.

“aww, are you offering?” his undertone indicates pleasantry with a hint of genuine surprises, but yohan decides to not dwell.

“i mean— the beach is nice, would be good to get some fresh air..”

kiro laughs. “you need to make time for yourself, hyung, this is technically your break after all”.

“i am doing that” yohan is unsure of exactly why he decides to pose such an argument, tone too gentle to convey any truth. “i can just do that while also spending time with you”.

and he includes the nudge of his shoulder to sell his point, repeatedly blinking at the shine of the sun. “come on, let’s go eat breakfast”.

yohan usually doesn’t eat breakfast, but he supposes today is a special occasion.

“oh hyung, are you spoiling me?”

he can’t help his responding smile. “don’t get used to it”.

NOVEMBER 29 2019. HOTPOT RESTAURANT

apparently it’s a good day for hajoon, and whilst yohan can only assume, it appears the answer for his elevated brightness is clear.

yohan remains the slightest bit weary, not because he’s rude, it’s quite the opposite, he exudes a level of consideration yohan doesn’t expect from a guy he’s technically competing with for a spot in a fresh new group.

their skill sets are much the opposite, but competition is competition, he’s aware he’s gonna debut either way, maybe that explains his natural talent for simple generosity.

and it’s not that yohan doesn’t like him, it’s simply everything else that makes him strange.

which is exactly why yohan agrees to a hotpot “date” as he calls it. he entered the cushioned trainee dorms at eight pm, completely vitalized despite the tenor extending exhaustion. he specifically sought out yohan for a reason which remains iffy, nothing of a sure reply given for the question.

but he guesses that should be the least of his concerns when food is free.

he tunes out for a moment, only snapped out of his daze once the younger begins a fit of complaints. “you’re always looking in front of you, what are you thinking about?”

he knocks as if the older’s head will emit a sound, amused by his responding irritation. yohan’s face scrunches, his fist winding up just for nothing to happen. “nothing..”

“it’s not nothing” yohan is rattled by his chewing, his nose scrunch selling that idea. the younger decides to ignore him, hands clasping together in a silent sound. “come on, i won’t bite, what’s bothering you?”

“nothing’s bothering me i just couldn’t focus”.

hajoon takes in a deep breath, somehow not having his tongue burnt from the sheer amount of food he’s scarfed down, it’s still steaming, yet he doesn’t falter in the slightest. “is it debuting?”

yohan falters, hajoon smiles, god he’s way too good at that. “what’s with the doubt? you’re clearly going to debut”.

at that statement, he earns an eyebrow raise. “clearly?”

“you’re everything the lineup needs, you’re pretty, you can sing, you can dance, you don’t talk too much, companies like that in trainees” he muses, fingers coming to brush his hair out of his face. “you’re just like hwanie”.

yohan finds the words baffling, but he doesn’t display that, simply furrows his eyebrows. “and what? you aren’t anxious about debuting?”

“it isn’t exactly my whole life, this group”.

yohan is jealous. he longs for such laxity, hajoon talks about it like it’s nothing, but yohan’s putting his whole life into this. how is he supposed to face his mom if he doesn’t get into the group? areum? hyeri? yisoo? he’s supposed to pass, he’s the sibling consistently fueled with determination, what would failing even be like? how could anybody be relaxed about such a thing?

or maybe yohan’s simply chiefed by his anxiety, perhaps that’s the reason.

“oh”.

sensing the sudden change of atmosphere, hajoon begins whistling, playing with his chopsticks. “after this, we should go shopping or something”.

yohan’s eyes narrow. “if we do that we’ll get back late”.

he pretends to contemplate, clearly aware of what he’ll say next. “you need to relax”.

yohan clicks his tongue. “didn’t realize you cared”.

the younger snickers, slapping his arm. “of course i do! we’re friends now aren’t we?”

friends, well that’s a strange word. yohan doesn’t realize they had a label for this, hajoon just appeared one day in the practice room and yohan never questioned it, he never questioned their relationship.

yohan realizes that he probably won’t get another opportunity like this with the next year hot on his tail, once the idol life sets in, there’s no longer free time.

he sighs. “fine”.

“great! it’s a date!”

that’s probably gonna be his thing, yohan realizes he doesn’t mind much.

SEPTEMBER 3 2022. STYLE ROOM

yohan finds the members’ muttering easy to fall asleep too, the stylists hands in his hair cushioning his falling head.

the heat emanating from the hair straightener is surprisingly comforting, and despite the shouting, he manages a good thirty minutes of slumber before a tap on his forehead disturbs him.

he’s awaken by yet another tap on his forehead followed by the shuffling of footsteps, when he finally does open his eyes, he belatedly misses the absence of the hairstylist’s presence, instead alerted by two muddled voices.

haneul and yaejoon are arguing over.. something, yohan doesn’t mind whatever they’re whispering about. however, he notices the appearance of taro, who awkwardly stands by, seemingly caught in the crossfire, the image causing a chuckle to push itself up his throat.

the two others continue their “intense” argument, taro turns his way with pleading eyes, silently requesting for the older to get him out of his current predicament.

“what did i do?” he whispers, arms flailing slightly as yaejoon lightly tugs his shoulder.

yohan decides to pout for him. he clears his throat, catching the attention of his two arguing members. “you guys wanna know something interesting?” he begins, “last week’s hotel had the best desserts so far”.

and just like that, they begin yet another debate, a calm one somehow, taro watches on in pure amazement. “how do you just do that?”

yohan shrugs. “i don’t know”.

and honestly? he doesn’t.

the two arguing don’t pay attention, but at least the pressure is off his shoulders. he takes a seat in the vacant chair beside the leader, yohan gazes on, observing the anxiety permeating from him immediately, the maknae flinching at nothing in the air. “you okay?”

he doesn’t answer verbally, simply nodding. yohan hums, unbelieving of it all. “come on, you can tell me what’s wrong”.

he still remains silent, yohan doesn’t mind that really, he’s simply aware of how terrible it is to bottle up things like this. “aren’t you excited to go home?”

at the mention of home, taro flinches, flinches in the manner of a cat flicked with water, accidentally dropped into a bathtub in a ruthless prank by their owner.

he’s skittish like that, yohan has observed, he’s got cute eyes and constantly fiddles with his bracelets when longing for something to do, once the anxiety settles in, he plays around with the knots of fabric pressing to his skin.

gosh, yohan adores taro.

“i’m not sure, yoiki is excited but knowing my parents they probably won’t come”.

yohan frowns for his sake, but the news appears normal for him, his undertone doing nothing of a change. he blanks at the information, not exactly unaware of such a thing, simply disheartened for the maknae.

“are they working?”

“it doesn’t matter if they are or not”.

yohan doesn’t meet the members’ parents often, it just so happens to not be that much of a need for him, the members all have their own issues relating to some parental figure, and if that isn’t the case, then it’s probably much worse, stuff he’d rather not get into with the rest of them because dealing with trauma like that does questionable things to people.

his mother appears to be nice enough, she’s simply a massive workaholic.

his mouth dries. “hey, don’t think about that, on a positive note, your sisters are coming, and..”

“and?”

“you have us” he motions his head in the direction of the two softly quarreling. “i’ve always wanted to try soba”.

now that earns a small smile, the pretty stretch resulting in warmth encapsulating yohan’s heart. taro glances downward at his nails, picking at the skin.

once yohan gently separates his nails from the skin, he earns a smile; “i know a few good places” he mumbles, shyly looking away.

yohan smiles. “great, we can go together”.

he blushes, flush with endearment and a hint of budding enthusiasm. “yeah i’d like that..”

he’s unsuccessfully attempting to hide a smile, and yohan has to stifle a flurry of coos.

he simply thinks taro may just be the cutest person ever.

DECEMBER 23 2021. MELIORA DORMS

yohan comes to a not-so startling conclusion, haneul drunk is nothing different from haneul sober.

he supposes affection is guaranteed with a guy of that manner, when yohan first met him, there happened to be a distinct fashion of the air. he appears to be fond of everyone, everything, elated by such mundane prospects of life as if it’s his first waking moment on earth.

it’s.. well, kind of cute, in a completely abnormal sense to yohan’s considerably sane mind. he’s never seen the guy without a smile, every waking moment the feat of ecstasy simply heightens, and it appears that extends to tossing back shot after shot.

his face is painted a baby pink, the only contrast being the bright red of his cheeks. it has no affect on his attitude, he’s woozy, one of the few unusual results of drinking to your heart’s content.

“one more!” and when he raises the shot glass, it disappears as swiftly as yohan swipes it out of his hands. he releases a very intelligible ‘hmph’ and gives his best attempt at getting it back, just barely able to control his own limbs. “hyung!” yohan grimaces at the immediate spike of volume. “you can’t withhold shots from me, it’s my birth month”.

what an excuse, the younger about falls off his chair, yohan having to act as damage control in a room full of his other wasted members.

but he unfortunately does not let up, instead wrapping his arms around the leader in an effort to keep him in his place, or maybe the alcohol setting in is just opening the door for a mountain of affection he did not ask for. he snuggles into his side, and yohan has to keep a sigh between his teeth.

“are you alright?”

“i’m tired” haneul mumbles, eyes fluttered shut as he totally, possibly unconsciously, squeezes around his waist, yohan clenching his teeth as his own silent reply.

yohan snorts. “what about the shots?”

he allows for the crack of an eye, then his glance wanders over to the dormant shot glass, lips taking a downward turn into a saddening frown. if yohan didn’t know any better, he’d presume that haneul was definitively disheartened by being unable to enjoy one last “drink”. it’s hilarious, in another universe, he’d be rewarded acting accolades.

“you were the one who stole them from me? you’re such a phony you know what right!?”

lord is he still whining? yohan pats his head in a questionable manner, as if haneul is his son or something, attempting to console him in his drunken stupor. “shh! you’re too loud..”

haneul yawns, pinch purposeful. yohan slaps the small of his back, earning the best glare haneul can give with such droopy eyes, a glower which results in probably one of his fairest laughs in a while.

“how about” he begins, unable to slip from the compression paired with his physical feat of endearment. “you go to sleep”.

“i want water” he immediately demands, yohan again allows a smack on his back, perturbed by the change of his tone in the fashion of an unaltered adult.

“okay fine, water”.

unfortunately, yohan underestimates how much he would sort of do for him, it’s just so the younger can stop hugging him so tight, he echoes in his mind.

but he’s probably lying to himself in that regard, the contracting embrace encapsulates solace he supposes he never knew existed for someone like him.

he could probably get used to it.

OCTOBER 25 2021. IOYS STUDIOS

“have you ever actually considered painting much more seriously?”

the significantly strange wavelength of what they can call their “relationship” is probably what sprouted such a question. rae often inquires, he’s curious about it all, maybe he was meant for the stars, when his pupils dilate in his typically questioning manner, yohan can’t help but observe how they resemble constellations he so dearly cherishes.

he used to be scared of yohan, in complete tandem with several of the members, yet his fear was deemed different by yohan’s subconscious. it took one physical clash in the practice room for him to run away and hide, it provided him with excellent laughing fodder for a mere moment, but afterward it was simply strange.

the reason they’re painting is technically all due to yohan in the first place, he muttered to him that it was an “early birthday gift”, except such a gift was hidden from the members because they’d easily chastise him for not resting during his break, hwan already did a good number on him.

“it’s just a hobby” he mumbles, tongue prodding at the side of his cheek as his glasses make a daring attempt to fall off his face, steadily sliding down his nose. “nothing serious..”

yohan realizes he must say that about many things, because byeol’s responding look is reminiscent of many he’s gotten throughout the years when musing about his unserious hobbies.

“you said that about singing too and..”

that earns a snicker, it’s true, but they can’t exactly be compared. yongrae takes yet another glimpse, as if trying to take a look into yohan’s mind. his attempts appear to be futile, and he turns his head back to his half done painting.

“well that was before i knew i would debut”.

“didn’t you always know?”

he likes to ask questions, and yohan enjoys answering questions, enjoys relaying more information to his members in a manner which heightens their intrigue. he’s unsure of why they’re always so curious about his life, he isn’t that interesting in hindsight.

“i mean.. you never know, remember when we thought iseul-ah was in the lineup? we got fooled”.

technically they didn’t, iseul was a fuse, somewhat of a breaking point for the company, yohan doesn’t try to talk to him now that they’ve debuted, he’s sure the other holds back some contempt, but not enough to block hajoon’s number, he’s sure they still talk.

they were a.. close pair he remembers.

he shrugs in reply. “i guess you always just seem to know, sometimes i think you’re a psychic, hyung”.

the way he describes things always irks yohan, but not in the usual sense. he’s invested in the manner of his verbal illustrations, he longs to hear more. “that’s funny”.

his wrist has begun to cramp, he finally sets down the paintbrushes and adjusts his glasses. there’s some scrawled across his shirt, shades of blue he doesn’t recall ever actually choosing, yet they permeate the canvas before him anyway.

“it’s pretty”.

“it’s not done” yohan isn’t a perfectionist, he simply wants for it to be done, the chemicals sneaking up his nose. “i don’t want us to stay out too late”.

“oh, do we have a curfew?” the younger inquires, raising an eyebrow and beginning to giggle at his own joke.

“well you need sleep”.

he snorts, opting to frown at the mere mention of sleep. “how can you say that with little sleep under your belt hyung?”

yohan gets chastised for it often, he finds such a prospect hilarious, consistently getting criticized by his own dongsaengs for his terrible sleeping habits— or, he supposes insomniac habits, he doesn’t sleep much, he supposes that’s why they always point it out.

“i’m just looking out for you”.

yohan wants to vomit, he��s unsure of why it’s taken him so long to verbally utter those words to any of his members, but he really does just want that. yes his members are strange, out there, loud, occasionally they irritate him beyond words, but he does care, he tries his best to verbalize that with actions the best he can.

“how about we just stay a bit longer, it’s not that late” he excuses, he’s correct, it’s only eight o’clock, crossing late territory won’t be evident until it’s at least nine. “you aren’t even done yet”.

yohan’s gaze softens, he guesses it won’t be that much of a problem. “sure”.

his birthday is coming up anyway, yohan will do everything he can for him.

JUNE 16 2020. MELIORA DORMS

“and why exactly are you doing this for me again?”

yohan doesn’t mean to exude such a tone, especially with someone older than him, but he supposes he’s much too used to it. chaiya doesn’t mind much, besides the occasional jab at the maknaes whenever they disrespect him as the eldest member, the act of formality is the furthest from his mind.

“you have an addiction” he merely states, and yohan scoffs.

“it’s a healthy addiction” as if that makes any sense, he probably sounds like a raging hypocrite, but that would be nothing new. “better than all the sugar you put into that shit”.

“don’t you swear at me” he points an accusatory finger, yohan’s eyebrow merely raises. “i’m older you know, just because you’re the leader doesn’t mean you have all the power”.

yohan narrows his eyes, longing to say a specific something. the eldest seems to understand despite the silence, because he smiles; “you better stay there, not letting you run away from trying something new”.

that appears to be a consistent theming with all of the members. since when did they all just think that? why do they consistently tell yohan the same thing? well.. the ones who’ll talk to him anyway.

they only debuted a month ago, half of them won’t speak to him and most of them seem terrified at his mere gaze, but they all look to understand the same thing.

yohan’s a control freak.

how funny, he just barely recognizes the inner workings of all their minds, but it’s like they all look at him and think the same thing.

yohan enjoys having things remain the same. what’s the point of trying a new thing that he may dislike when the current wavelength of his life is somewhat comforting to him already? he simply stares, blinking at the concoction the eldest is pouring sugar into. his nose crinkles.

“see? you always do that”.

“i like my coffee black” he voices clearly, but he’s not going to listen, why would he? he’s already doing all of this, at least he knows a good chunk of the members are as stubborn as he is.

“i know that” his tone appears gentle, as if yohan’s some sort of baby. he presumes chaiya would be a good teacher in another life, the thought almost earns a smile. “i just need opinions”.

from me of all people?

and yohan doesn’t think he’s.. mean per say, he just thinks that his opinion could possibly anger one. he’ll leave all the blatant insolence to junmin, there’s so much which could spill out, but he decides to actually have self control in contrast to the other.

chaiya again smiles. “i don’t mind if you don’t like it, that’s the point of opinions isn’t it?”

is this how people make friends now? yohan almost laughs, this is probably the best case scenario of such a thing. “besides, there are twelve other people living here, i need to draw actual conclusions”.

he’s simply so cheerful, and yohan finally does smile, a small one, but a smile nonetheless. “fine”.

“see? i knew you’d come around”.

yohan snorts. “don’t be so full of yourself”.

the words hold no truth, bear no genuine weight on the confidence of the eldest, yohan finds it pretty admirable.

he can just deal with it for now.

AUGUST 10 2022. OAKLAND CA

yohan gets about twenty minutes of peace before his door is kicked down.

his eye cracks open, and he heavily sighs at the sight of a familiar headache. kang yaejoon just so happens to be full of energy, a consistent noise yohan begged to not bother him.

“oh fuck this”.

“don’t swear hyung”.

and suddenly, the younger flops on top of him, possibly breaking all of his bones in a singular movement. yohan grunts, but the other doesn’t let up, instead makes himself comfortable crushing him. “is this a guarantee?” he’s somehow able to let the words escape him, glancing up at the younger who appears contended by it all.

“this is how i show my love for you!”

“by trying to kill me?”

yohan is so fucking tired, maybe he shouldn’t have fought to be placed into a group with twelve other guys, his head falls forward and he takes a deep breath into his pillow. he hears the younger snicker, completely overjoyed at the prospect of the older’s misery. “hey, sometimes it works”.

“yeah sometimes”.

“don’t be so mad, hyung, i always knew i was one of your favorites”.

yohan doesn’t even attempt to refute such a claim, he instead decides to make himself comfortable with the situation in the best manner possible, head remaining rested on his pillow. yaejoon mumbles something that he doesn’t try to decode, eyes begging to flutter closed.

he’s disturbed by a whisper; “hyung”.

“yes?” he yawns, eyes now closed.

“am i really your favorite?”

he cracks one eye open, hoping to convey his feat of chagrin with just a singular movement of one eye. “is that what you’re most concerned about?”

“yes”.

“let me sleep”.

“it’s only nine pm!”

yohan typically doesn’t sleep early, but the tour has practically wiped him out, sleeping early is the only thing he can do in order to ensure he doesn’t pass out on stage.

he grabs onto the younger, instead pulling him into an embrace, one leg thrown over the other. “shh, quiet now, i need my beauty sleep”.

yaejoon stares, yohan can feel it despite the fact that his own are closed. “wow, you wanna lay with me? always knew you had a crush on me”.

“shut up”.

“alright hyung”.

he may talk his ear off the whole entire night, but yohan decides that such a prospect might just be the slightest bit comforting, even if irritating.

AUGUST 6 2022. LOS ANGELES CA

the longer yohan spends time with him, he realizes there are many similarities between him and kristian.

it goes past the amount of siblings they have, their equal adoration of cats, unhealthily taking in much caffeine, being much introverted, often on the side when the groups arguing.

he really didn’t recognize how much the younger is basically him in a skewed font, glares and all.

los angeles is the first stop on every american tour, yohan didn’t mean to study it, he’s just always around once the staff begin muttering about future plans, barely alerted by his presence due to his silence. that’s where kristian was born, he doesn’t often talk about it, not even to jaehwan, who he practically talks about everything to.

yohan’s only aware of one thing, a thing he’s aware of once it comes to most of the members; he’s got a complicated relationship with his parents.

not the first time with a member in this group, he makes occasional passing comments about how they’re probably crazy, doesn’t go much further than that.

he’s clearly been weary of coming home, in a fashion that’s typically uncharacteristic of him, his usually tranquil manner disturbed for possibly the first time since yohan’s met him.

and now he’s grabbing his jacket, heading out.. somewhere.

“where are you going?”

he produces the closest thing to a ‘hmph’, scoffing at the prospect of nothing. “my parents called for a reunion dinner because they heard i’m here”.

yohan blinks, studying the younger for a while. he doesn’t care what the members do after hours, he’s simply concerned about what reunion dinner entails. “and you’re really going?”

the younger shrugs, even with disquietude coloring his features, he wants to appear completely unscathed by such news. yohan again narrows his eyebrows, it’s easy to spot such a facade when you’ve had one up so many times yourself. “my siblings will be there anyway”.

“but your parents..”

he doesn’t finish.

kristian simply stares, attempting to look unbothered despite the clear lack of satisfaction emanating from him in all. yohan yearns to give him a hug, for some unusual reason, he wants to tell him everything is going to be okay, which makes no sense because the younger seems to despise hugs if they aren’t from his favorite person.

he pushes down such thoughts. “doesn’t matter, i’ve dealt with them before”.

you shouldn’t have to.

yohan really does care, he feels like hajoon, constantly babying the members even if they can reasonably afford to take care of themselves. with the way the younger stares, he can practically tell what yohan is thinking.

“don’t you think you should stay?”

yohan is really trying.

he tilts his head. “do you want my company or something?”

“no.. i’m just worried about what might happen”.

“well if i don’t come back then you’ll know they killed me”.

yohan deadpans, but the slightest snicker leaves him. that was pretty funny.

“if you need me to come pick you up i will”.

“you’re too sweet”.

it isn’t said like an insult, not in the manner it usually is, that makes yohan the slightest bit glad. “don’t get sappy”.

“i was saving it just for you”.

yohan scoffs, but there is nothing genuine behind it.

APRIL 30 2022. DOWNTOWN SEOUL

yohan never thought he was anybody’s favorite member, mainly because he’s always perceived himself as pretty unapproachable,

but it appears jaehwan enjoys differing with him even when he doesn’t specifically utter it.

and how he drew an impatient blabbermouth to his side will always perturb yohan, he seems to attract a completely contrasting crowd, which includes over half of the meliora members. jaehwan woke up early for possibly the first time ever (despite his day typically ending at nine pm, he’s always out untimely) and dragged a groggy yohan out of the house. the taste of toothpaste still fresh on his tongue, he barely had time to adjust.

“what’s the point of this exactly?” the younger appears elated by the sight of displayed baked treats. he’s always so happy, joy caused by even the slightest of things.

jaehwan continues bouncing up and down as he seemingly contemplates on what to get. “i just wanted to go out, you know you’re my favorite right?”

yohan is unsure if his heart should swell at such a fact. “oh? i thought it was kyuhyunie”.

it technically is, no matter how much it changes, jaehwan will always have a specifically special place in his heart for ahn kyuhyun mostly. yohan doesn’t mind, it’s not much of a pressing matter.

jaehwan frowns, feigned offense in the stretch of that downward turn. “things can change”.

well they usually don’t.

“do you want macarons?”

at the question, jaehwan plays at thought, though his choice appears completely avowed, yohan still squints his eyes anyway. well, he could probably pass that over with the reason that he left his glasses at home, what would jaehwan know?

the younger smiles, bright, all teeth present in the frankly pretty grin. “absolutely, do you not want macarons?”

he shrugs. “i don’t know..”

they do end up getting macarons, several flavors available yet all of them tasting the same to yohan. maybe he doesn’t allow for too much focus, perhaps he should’ve allowed the specific tastes to linger on his tongue, then he would’ve enjoyed them much more than it appeared.

jaehwan drags yohan by hand around downtown seoul for the filler of the day they have time, comeback preparations begin soon and it seems he just wanted to spend time with his “favorite person” (his words, not yohan’s, though the consistent smiles he earns are invigorating enough that he has no rebuttal), something of a mystery to yohan.

“how do you plan to afford this?”

“you mean how do we?”

yohan’s eyes narrow, his vision somewhat blurry as he eyes the miniature figures jaehwan appears so entranced by. they pose nothing of a interest to him, not in the manner they clearly do to jaehwan, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“i don’t want any of this”.

okay, not shut for long enough.

jaehwan pouts, is he really sad? that’s ironic.

“can’t you do me this favor?”

his eyebrows pinch together, is he serious? yohan about laughs at such a thing. “i got you macarons”.

“macarons cost nothing!”

“so why didn’t you get them yourself!?”

he opts to not answer that question, instead taking ahold of yohan’s arm and lurching him forward, out of the titular store.

his feet may have begun to swell, he’s unsure.

he doesn’t exactly long for home, a certain someone just so happens to be weighing in on his conscience, he surmises that going out is better than facing a member who causes his eye to twitch erratically, even if leftover mushy feelings remain constant.

“this sugar intake is unhealthy” yohan ironically bites into an abnormally large chocolate bar as he inquires on such a thing.

“you need it after all, you don’t eat any sugar!”

“i do, healthily”.

jaehwan snorts. “healthy is a fake word, nothing’s healthy at the moment”.

“how deep”.

“i’m being serious” he earns a mere shoulder nudge as his response. he narrows his eyes, vision obscured with the lack of his glasses present. “don’t fight, okay? i don’t want you two to be mad at each other..”

and maybe, for a specific purpose, he’s allowing for the words to escape from the sheer kindness of his heart.

“i’ll try”.

by try, he means he might just have to bottle it all up again, maybe avoid him consistently in the fashion he has since after chuseok, but it technically would be trying.

“no more avoiding him either”.

damnit.

well, yohan can’t do anything else now.

SEPTEMBER 9 2022. SCOTIABANK ARENA

they’re about two hours into rehearsal, the complaining begins as soon as the threshold is crossed.

haneul exceedingly whines about the heat, then suddenly jaehwan is endlessly complaining, chaiya is attempting to stare into the sun and yaejoon wants water.

yohan is aware in these kinds of situations he’s supposed to sport a whole responsible leader attitude about the whole thing, but he can’t find the air to care, a hand combing through his hair and lethargy sinking him to the ground.

“let’s take a break now!”

well yohan’s glad he didn’t have to utter it.

he grabs a spot in one of the corners, eyes closed as he allows for his head to comfortably snuggle against the nearby stage equipment. it’s possibly dangerous, though that happens to exist on a further plane of his mind.

he gets distracted when he feels the irking sensation of a presence beside him, a presence which has his eyes narrowing despite them being fluttered shut.

now yohan is unsure of much regarding canada and its specific climate, he doesn’t have enough time to delve into that one, however, the heat typically dissipates around early september, that is not the current wavelength of the weather.

when he cracks open one eye, he’s met with kyuhyun attempting to keep himself awake despite his head begging to be let down so he can doze off. yohan’s perceived his unusual bout of weariness these days, not that every member is not extremely tired over the soul sucking mindscape of a tour, but energy 24/7 kyuhyun suddenly becoming not so talkative should begin ringing alarm bells.

“you need to sleep”.

and yohan supposes he’ll just always be a raging hypocrite, sleep just so happens to be his worst enemy in the world.

kyuhyun turns his way, a seething exhaustion gleaming in his pupils. yohan blinks, he so yearns to give him a hug, he just.. he just looks like he needs one, looks soft, probably feels soft too.

“ouch, do i look that bad?”

yohan chuckles, poking his cheek as his lips take a downturn. “you look like you could use better time”.

kyuhyun scoots closer and makes his head comfortable on his shoulder. yohan longs to question the wavelength of his actions, but he opts for silence as a response. typically, kyuhyun could not resist blabbering, extroverted tendencies carried throughout no matter what.

today appears to display a couple of differences.

“maybe you should stack up on the caffeine” yohan sports, amusement elevating his words.

kyuhyun offers a snort, though deflated. “ki would kill me, you know, i used to be crazy for iced coffee, she’s practically keeping me alive”.

“an energy drink once in a while isn’t terrible”.

“you can’t talk hyung” he rebuts, not scathing, tone much too gentle for the perceived insult seemingly delivered. “your blood may as well be replaced with caffeine”.

“it has some good effects”.

“sounds like something an addict says” kyuhyun unconvincingly laced their hands together, a figurative embrace that surges warmth despite the hoisted heat in the surrounding air. “kiarra would faint”.

yohan furrows his eyebrows, somewhat offended by the certain insult. “well if you attempt it in a healthy manner, it won’t be as bad”.

kyuhyun sighs heavily, supposedly on the brink of dozing off, yohan guesses no energy drinks shall be bestowed upon him, he may as well just fall asleep before they can finish rehearsals.

yohan pokes him again. “go sleep, you’ll be able to catch up tomorrow”.

kyuhyun scoffs, clearly attempting to rebut that claim, unfortunately, yohan’s much more stubborn than he is.

“go”.

“okay!”

kyuhyun’s nose scrunches, but it’s clear he needed that either way.

SEPTEMBER 21 2021. GWANGJU SK

junmin somehow agrees to celebrate chuseok with yohan’s family and he basically has a mini heart attack at the fact.

he suggested such a thing for a blatant reason, he really really knew the extent of junmin’s parents behavior. yejin is constantly at the forefront of his mind, she’s just a kid, barely recognizes the reality of her situation and much too young to even attempt a shot at independence.

he isn’t exactly sure of why he so wanted to, he wasn’t aware the other members had plans. haneul definitely would’ve invited him, hajoon as well, shit, maybe even rae if he wasn’t holding fear back from clashes in the practice room. he took that as a challenge, it wasn’t one, who was he even competing with? himself? his sane mind that tells him to not continuously do this to himself?

when he inquired about it to junmin, the younger just stared. they had been.. well, what they were was complicated at the time. there was no semblance of bad blood, not any that yohan is aware of, he so wishes he could read junmin’s mind, he embroils things in confusion, yet yohan yearns for his presence no matter what.

“you could bring yejin too” he recalled saying, striving to appear mundane enough. “i know you want to”.

well yohan doesn’t know enough about what exactly junmin wants.

god he hates him.

actually, he doesn’t.

he presented a good enough smile. “sure”.

sure, yohan held solace in that one singular word for the week coming up to going home. he never forgets anything, but the mere idea of having to disclose such information to areum and hyeri kills him for the duration, his own head pounds at that.

oh, you’re bringing your boyfriend back home?

not my boyfriend.

she taunts him about it even with the most silent of mutters.

thankfully, possibly because the world decided to hand yohan a single favor for once in his untouched fucking life, his siblings are much too caught up with pampering the house’s newest baby to observe yohan’s impending impatience.

junmin easily slides into the cracks with such perfection yohan wants to die. he’s good at listening and he has a nice smile, yohan’s parents adore him at first glance, yisoo allows for his thumb to continuously point backward; you’ve hit the jackpot!

yohan hasn’t hit the jackpot, he would never call himself a coward, he isn’t, he really isn’t, on most occasions he would simply face a trouble like this head on instead of displaying a terribly manufactured facade.

“don’t get your feelings hurt, han”.

hyeri always says this without any additional context, but yohan isn’t in need for a situation like this. his nose crinkles, and she crushes a dormant cigarette under the heel of her boot. he presumed she quit, he guesses she lied about that fact to mom.

“i won’t”.

who is he kidding?

she does that invasive stare thing, her eyes narrow in complete judgement, she could never be ambiguous, nothing of dubiousness when it’s all scrawled over her features 24/7. yohan constantly feels surveilled under her gaze, when she finally calms the eyebrow raise, she sucks her teeth, teeth drawing blood from where they sink into her bottom lip. “i’m sure your members would believe that one”.

he opts to leave that one unanswered.

junmin doesn’t bring anything up, and yohan’s grateful he remains silent because dad and mom would probably freak if they found out what he was doing behind the scenes. he loves them, but they retain too much of that worry they constantly weighed down on him during his childhood.

“you’re making fun of me”.

“i’m not”.

“you are” yohan clears his throat, chin tilted up in a stubborn display of.. something. “i didn’t decorate my childhood bedroom, you know”.

junmin frowns, cracking his knuckles in his typical i just need something to do fashion. “the color scheme is simply funny, and you used to be so cute!”

yohan guesses he likes it sometimes, enjoys the fact that junmin has that somewhat exuberant switch whenever he’s with him alone. it’s such a selfish thought, yohan surmises he’s probably a pretty selfish person when it comes to the current circumstances.

he doesn’t mean to be, he simply can’t help it.

“could you not? those photos are essential for keeping memories alive!”

and then they bicker, it’s always the same between them, yohan finds comfort in that.

it all went fine, yejin is an absolute angel, areum wants to keep her around forever, she formed a strong ass attachment in just seven hours, yohan’s sure she’ll sign adoption papers straight away.

“he should come around next year too” his mother whispers once most are out of view. yohan pauses, blinking, throat drying up in an aberrant manner, he winces, accidentally turning the water much too high, he might’ve just burned his own hand unconsciously washing the dishes. “i like them both, they’re the sweetest”.

yohan might as well just die.

“i mean—” he swears at himself, how do you disagree with your own mother? “i can see if he wants to again..”

then it’s over, areum has to begrudgingly let yejin go and hyeri continues giving him that look. yohan isn’t leaving just yet, technically, he has a sure fire break until the company decides to shove him back on stage, mental wellbeing better or not.

“think they just found their new favorite” areum made yejin a gift, hair tied into twin braids and decorated with bows. she’s adorable, yohan is aware of how the easy devotion formed.

“she’s gonna want an invite next year”.

yohan frowns, playful, nothing real. “you don’t sound glad”.

junmin shakes his head. “no no your siblings are nice”. he looks down at the floor, hands clasped with his sisters. “i guess i wouldn’t mind”.

yohan wants to jump at the fact, that’s pretty pathetic of me.

“could you call me when you get off the train?”

and listen, yohan’s always been a little self destructive, he’s going to get hurt in the future, maybe he’ll cry, bite off his nails in anxiety, hate himself,

but it feels so good now, he’s afraid he can’t help it.

“of course, that’s no problem”.

#◝﹙ welcome to my world ! ﹚ ── writing #fake kpop group #fake kpop idol #fictional idol group #fictional kpop boy group #fictional kpop community #fictional kpop company #fictional kpop group #fictional kpop idol #fictional kpop oc #idol oc #kpop boy group #oc kpop group

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