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stellarbit · 8 months ago

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Past Echoes

4.0k words. Light references to intimacy.

Fitting back in with the Bad Batch was an adjustment. Accidentally letting it slip that you and Echo had more history than Tech, Echo, and Wrecker realized... made it a bit more challenging.

Light reference to this lil fic Shadows of the Order. Do you want some jealous Tech? Protective Echo? A slightly voyeuristic Hunter? I gotchu.

I had a thought - the Batch would most definitely hate the idea of you having previous nsfw fun with a reg. But what if it was a 'the call is coming from inside the house' situation. Enjoyyyyy

When the Batch returned to Ord Mantel, you and O2 followed. Cid, a former Jedi informant, didn't recognize you, and you didn't recognize her—fortunately. She wasn't thrilled about your presence at first. It wasn't until you completed a solo job for her, proving your worth while the Batch tackled their mission, that her complaints subsided.

It became routine for you and O2 to take on jobs separately from the Batch whenever possible. The occasional solitude was a balm, helping you adjust to the constant company.You’d forgotten what it was like to be a part of a squad and to have any attention on you.

Their intense attention was making it all the more challenging.

Reuniting with you after Order 66 mended a wound in them. The loss of Crosshair left a void, partially filled by Omega's arrival. She helped them move forward, bridging the gap left behind. Your presence reignited a sense of the familiar, despite the undeniable changes. Where you once engaged freely, laughing and unhesitant in physical affection, you now held yourself apart, you were now detached and resentful as they saw it.

All of them but Echo. He’d known you longer than the others, back to your days as a Jedi Knight fighting with the 501st, and knew personally how hard adjusting could be.

Adjusting to your new reality was more exhausting than you'd anticipated, not so much a matter of resentment as it was sheer fatigue. Socializing, something that once came as naturally as breathing, now consumed a significant chunk of your mental energy. In some ways, Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, and Echo remained unchanged, the brothers you remembered. Yet, in other ways, they were entirely different, forcing you to relearn how to interact with them as if meeting for the first time.

Adjusting to the presence of a child was a whole separate issue.

Aside from taking some missions separately, you’d all fallen into another routine. Between missions, you all retreated to a modest dwelling you'd secured on the outskirts of Ord Mantell. The Marauder had quickly become too small for all of you.

It wasn’t big and privacy was scarce with most of the space being communal. A small refresher, built a short walk into the desert, provided a sliver of solitude from the group's constant buzz.

The moons were starting to set by the time you and O2 returned from your most recent job. You were sore and ready to shut O2 down by the time you walked into Cid’s.

“Welcome back!” Wrecker shouted, tossing you a box almost faster than you could react. “Looks like another successful mission for you.” You snorted and passed the carton of mantell mix to O2.

Hunter and Omega were immersed in the game at the dejarik table, Tech at the bar with a datapad, and Wrecker and Echo in a booth along the wall observing it all. You headed straight for the bar, a slight limp in your gate.

Echo's posture snapped to attention as he observed your approach. The abruptness of his movement as he rose was enough to send their table jostling. Wrecker steadied the table, thrown off by the sudden energy, and watched his brother march over.

“Must’ve been an easy job if you got back before us.” You teased and slid onto a bar stool, handing Cid her client’s requested datastick.

“Heh, easy for us!” Omega boasted and thrust a thumb to her chest. Hunter briefly smiled at the young clone before focusing on the game again.

Echo, however, wasn’t so easily diverted. He approached, his concern etched deeply into his features as he placed a firm hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him. “Looks like it was a rough one if you’re limping back,” he said, his voice carrying a scolding edge.

Behind you, O2, seemingly oblivious to the gravity of the moment and embodying the classic B1 battle droid blend of sass and clumsiness, trundled up. “If you ask me, we had the easy job. I only tripped twice and only one of those times was in front of enemies. Improvement!”

You waved a hand at Cid, signaling for a drink and said, “Getting old is rough. It’s nothing new.” Your attempt to sooth his stern expression fell flat.

Echo frowned and shook his head before bending to one knee. Examining your leg, Echo slid his hand behind your knee and lifted it up. His hand squeezed around your knee as his thumb worked into the joint. It brought you visible relief, indicative of the sigh and relaxed tilt of your head.

As Echo’s hand continued its examination down the length of your calf, he asked , “Is it acting up?”

Tech leaned from his stool to peer over Echo’s shoulder, taking special note of Echo’s hand still on your knee. “To what are you referring?”

Echo, without shifting his gaze from your leg, replied with a hint of frustration, “Her knee. She injured it during the Battle of Christophsis.” He paused, his voice softening as he looked up at you, concern replacing annoyance. “We’ve talked about this.”

Cid slid your drink across the bar to you, which you promptly tilted towards Echo. “I have been, nanny droid, but I can’t baby it all the time.” You took a large gulp of the drink and said, “Besides, it always aches after landing.” Since you’d known Echo, he’d always doted on you to some extent. Since your reunion though it was borderline overbearing.

Tech, ever the voice of logical reason, couldn’t resist chiming in. “Actually, that discomfort is likely due to the variations in air pressure and altitude experienced during descent. The symptoms should ease within a few hours. There is no cause for alarm.”

Echo’s response was a sharp and disapproving glance at Tech..

You hummed a laugh as you finished your drink. Setting the glass down and patting Echo’s hand, you turned away from the cybernetic clone. “Which reminds me,” you gestured to O2 in a ‘follow me’ fashion. “O2, c’mon. I need your help with my shoulder.”

That caught Hunter’s attention. He turned from the dejarik table. “Your shoulder?”

That particular injury was a relic of Order 66, a scar you hadn’t planned on discussing.

“I got shot and it didn’t heal right, but O2 helps with the occasional steroid shot.” Narrowing your eyes at O2, you rolled out your shoulder. “This time get it on the first stick.” You said as the two of you started towards the door.

“Hey!” The battle droid whined after you. “It’s not my fault you won’t calibrate my sensors.”

“Ah, ah, ah!” You shook your hands at O2 and jabbed a finger into their chest plate, “And I told you I’ll get to it. Just-”

“Not happening.” Echo cut in firmly just as you hit the stairs.

Pausing mid-step, one foot hovering above landing to the next flight of stairs, you turned back to your friend. “Excuse me?”

Echo met you on the stairs. “That clanker is not getting the chance to make it worse.

You grounded yourself and notched a hand on your hip. “Echo,” Your voice betrayed your exhaustion. “O2 can help just fine.” Echo’s face pinched together at the mention of the droid. His disdain and distrust for droids had not eased with O2’s presence.

Echo's resolve was unyielding, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that left little room for debate. "No. I'm not letting that droid anywhere near you with a needle. It's not about its capabilities; it's about doing this right," he stated, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "We're not taking any chances with your health."

You sighed, resisting Echo would only prove futile. “Alright, alright,” you conceded and started back up the stairs. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before,” you quipped, too tired to think about what you just let slip.

Echo's reaction was immediate; his eyebrows arched in surprise, clearly he hadn't anticipated such a slip. He quickly glanced at his brothers, hoping that your words had somehow escaped their notice.

It hadn’t.

Hunter's gaze shifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. Wrecker's mouth hung open, momentarily lost for words, while Omega looked between them all, sensing a tension she couldn't quite grasp.

Tech, who was usually composed and unfazed, seemed especially taken aback. His eyes widened behind his goggles, and for once, he too was at a loss, his brain trying to piece together this new information with the efficiency of a computer experiencing a glitch.

The others were left in a similar stunned silence, grappling with the sudden insight into a part of Echo and your past that had been carefully veiled until now. It was a sudden glimpse into the shared history between you and Echo—a history that was evidently more intimate than any had realized.

A subtle flush crept over Echo's cheeks, a rare display of embarrassment from the stoic soldier, before he turned, almost sheepishly, to follow you up the stairs.

The sound of the closing door echoed down the stairwell, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Cid, ever the observer, couldn't help but comment, "Didn't think Killjoy had it in him."

“Had what in him?” Omega asked, her head shifted between her brothers, expectantly waiting for an answer.

Cid leaned over the bar, “What are you, fresh out of the tube or something? They-”

“Were in the war together.” Hunter cut Cid off sharply. “Soldiers…” he struggled to find the appropriate words. “...have to dress wounds all the time.” He tapped his finger on the dejarik table. “It’s probably best we head back too.”

Omega led the way out with O2's unwieldy form bobbing along beside her. Wrecker and Hunter followed, their broad shoulders nearly blocking the path, while Tech lagged behind, lost in thought.

Wrecker leaned in, his whispering not as quiet as he might have thought. "There’s no way we wouldn’t have noticed something... And aren't Jedi not supposed-”

Hunter quickly silenced Wrecker. The situation was already uncomfortable without Omega’s curiosity making it worse. He caught sight of Tech, unusually distant and without his usual companion, his datapad, in hand.

There had been signs, subtle yet unmistakable, of something more between you and Tech. Hunter prided himself on his ability to read situations, to understand his team beyond words. The knowledge of your intimacy with Tech had bothered him, sparking an unexpected intrigue in him.

He’d smelled, more than once,Tech’s scent on you. The first time it had dredged up an ugly feeling inside the tattooed clone, but that feeling quickly evolved into something stranger.

Hunter remembered a moment, long before the chaos of Order 66, when he and Crosshair had stumbled upon you and Tech in a compromising situation, ostensibly "repairing" the Marauder's camera system. He’d been catching on to the two of you for a few weeks, but that day he knew for certain. Tech reeked of you and you uncharacteristically jumped at the opportunity to load the ship. It may have been lost on Crosshair, but not Hunter.

He knew what happened and, that night, he enjoyed thinking about it.

On the other hand, the possibility of you and Echo sharing something similar caused him a twinge of jealousy - a new feeling for Hunter. He wasn’t sure what secret you and Echo harbored; he just knew he didn’t like it. He did worry what that meant for the brother behind him.

In the cramped quarters of your makeshift dwelling's refresher, Echo was preparing the syringe. The space was limited, barely accommodating the essentials—a shower, toilet, and sink—yet it somehow felt enough for the two of you squeezed together.

With your back to echo, you sat on the rim of the empty bathtub working at the wrap on your shoulder. Most days you wrapped your shoulder and knee for support. The support it offered varied, but on this day, the wrap was more stubborn than usual.

As you struggled with the final layer, Echo's calloused fingers gently brushed yours aside. The warmth of his touch prompted a soft laugh from you. "Definitely warmer than O2," you commented, the tension easing from your shoulders as the last of the wrap fell away.

"Well, at least fifty percent of me is," Echo replied, his voice carrying a lightness that reminded you of times before the scars of war had marked him. Shutting your eyes, memories of Echo before Skako Minor flooded your mind, back when you were both new to the 501st and the galaxy seemed a vast expanse of possibilities.

Your paths had crossed shortly after you were knighted, and Echo had yet to lose the sheen of a 'shiny.' The connection was instantaneous, each of you quickly fell in together. Your friendship was built on your trust in battle and shared fun, with you playfully chiding him for his by-the-book approach, while he, in turn, found joy in occasionally bending the rules for you.

Your attachment to him was tested after a particularly grueling battle, one that left Echo injured and confined to a med bay. Sneaking in to visit him after hours, you were hit with the reality of how close you had come to losing him. It was within the quiet stolen moments in the med bay that blurred the lines of your camaraderie.

At one point, when you tried to adjust his bandages, Echo's hand caught yours, stopping you. The small touch lifted the weight of the situation. His thumb began gentle little circles on your hand and the bond between you went taught.

Seated beside Echo, your friend who looked at you as more than just a Jedi or commander, you wondered what you may have been without a war. It was hard to imagine, but one thing was clear: the thought of losing Echo, who had become more than just a fellow soldier, was unbearable.

For the first time, you felt that all the hardships of the war might be worth it, just to keep him and his brothers safe. At that moment, the reasons for fighting seemed more personal, tied to the people who mattered most.

The air changed as you noticed Echo’s gaze lingering on your lips.

Without saying a word, you leaned forward. Echo tried sitting up to meet you and that was all it took for you to bridge the gap with a kiss. A first kiss for the both of you. When you pulled back, he pulled back his blanket and, mindful of his injuries and desperate for the closeness, you tucked in beside him.

For that night, the war faded and it was just the two of you in a sanctuary of whispers and touches.

It was the only time and neither of you regretted it, but it only strengthened the depth of trust your shared. It made losing him all the more gutting. Your eyes opened at that thought.

“Echo.” Your voice broke the silence.

“Hold still.” He instructed before you felt the pinch of the shot. When it passed, Echo rolled his thumb over the puncture point and worked pressure into the surrounding muscles. “What is it?”

You began picking up your bandages and held them to your bare chest. “Did I ever tell you,” You glanced over your shoulder, but unable to look at him as you continued, you turned back “Losing you at Citadel was one of the worst pains I’ve ever experienced? You were my best friend… and I left you behind.”

The sight of you, hunched over those bandages, a scar wrecking your back, and the smallest he’d ever seen you, caved Echo’s chest in. Echo realized how much that moment had stayed with you, just as losing you had stayed with him.

Echo leaned down to your level, placing his hand on your scarred shoulder. You answered his touch by turning just enough to meet his gaze.

“You are my best friend.” he said, his voice steady and sincere. The look in his eyes suggested he was navigating through similar memories, yet his demeanor wasn't marred by sorrow. Instead, there was a tranquil acceptance in his expression, a balance between acknowledging the past's pain and appreciating the present's joys. He even managed a small smile. "I never felt abandoned by you. I get it. Losing you," he paused, a brief shadow crossing his face, "it seemed like the galaxy was falling apart, not the war."

Echo’s grip tightened on your shoulder before he stood back up. The smile he gave you was confident and comforting, the same Echo you’d met all that time ago.

“But you are alive and so am I. That’s the only thing that matters now.” His hand traveled up your neck to cradle the side of your head. Then, lightly, he placed a kiss on your head “Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

He started turning to leave you to wrap up, but paused just short of opening the door. “Oh, and one last thing.”

You’d already started rolling the bandages around your chest, so you didn’t bother to look up but acknowledged him with a nod.

“"The rest of them... they're aware now, of how close we actually are."

His words hung in the air, giving you pause. Only after a beat did the full weight of his statement hit you. Abruptly, you stopped what you were doing and whipped around to face him. "What was that?"

Echo hesitated, then clarified, "You pretty much announced it back at Cid’s that I've ‘seen it all before.’”

As his words sank in, you replayed the exit from Cid’s in your mind, and with growing dread, you realized the implication of your offhand comment. Your eyes batted around, recalling exactly what you’d said on your way out of Cid’s. As the realization fully dawned on you, you looked horrified.

While you and Echo never regretted that night, you both agreed to leave it in the med bay. It couldn’t complicate anything if it stayed as a silent memory.

“Echo-”

His pale skin was rose tinted, barely visible from his hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He glanced upwards, as if seeking divine intervention for a swift escape from the ensuing awkwardness. “I’m not dealing with that jealous lot alone so you better hurry up… Shorty.”

Echo said the nickname , a relic from your time with the 501st, in a way that would’ve made Fives proud. His use of the nickname, light and teasing, was enough to momentarily disarm any retort you had ready. By the time you could react, he had already stepped out.

He waited outside the refresher for you to finish and you both headed inside together. As you both reentered the common area, it was clear that Tech, Hunter, and Wrecker were making a minimal effort to seem occupied with anything but the two of you. O2 and Omega were elsewhere.

Tech’s attention was drilled into fixing a component of the Marauder, but the tightness in his shoulders showed his discomfort. Hunter was sat adjacent Wrecker, sharpening his knife.

Wrecker, in particular, didn't even bother with the pretense of subtlety. His gaze was unabashedly fixed on you both, wide-eyed and overtly curious, as though seeing you in a completely new light for the first time.

Wrecker was the first to break the silence, unable to contain his curiosity. “So, you two?” He gestured between you and Echo.

Tech’s attention snapped from his tinkering, his expression tight, betraying a flicker of discomfort at Wrecker’s blunt inquiry. "Is this really the time to—"

"It's okay, Tech," you interjected, wanting to clear the air before misunderstandings could take root. Echo nodded in agreement, his expression calm.

One of Tech’s hands tightened into a fist and he glanced away. With not enough information to assess this sort of situation, he was frustrated and struggling to process it. Tech adjusted his goggles, his voice a mix of resignation and annoyance. "I suppose clarity on the matter would... facilitate a return to normalcy."

Echo glanced at the rest of the squad, then back to you, a silent agreement passing between you. He sighed, "Yes, we had a moment. A long time ago. It wasn't serious, and it's in the past."

Hunter finally spoke, raising a hand to stop the conversation., “We don’t need the details.” He sighed and sat up in his chair. “If it’s in the past, that’s that.” Standing, he replaced the knife in his forearm sheath and continued in a flat tone, “Just caught us off guard is all.,” His gaze swept from you to Echo and then rested on Tech.

Tech finally spoke up, his usual composure regained. “As long as this… history doesn’t interfere with our missions, it remains a personal matter.” Yet, beneath his measured words, a hint of unresolved tension lingered.

Wrecker, processing the information, scratched his head, then offered a shrug. “Guess we’ve all got our stories, huh? Just didn’t see this one coming.” Ever the one to lighten the mood, Wrecker clapped his hands. “Well, now that’s settled, who’s hungry?”

Your eyes caught Tech’s. One of his hands rested on his leg while his thumb rubbed against his forefinger nervously. His characteristic confidence dimmed. You weren’t going to let that linger.

Surprisingly, the group quickly dispersed after the awkward meeting.

Wrecker headed off to find Omega and grab some grub and Hunter wanted to do a routine check of the Marauder, leaving you, Echo, and Tech lingering in the common area. Echo gave you a relieved smile and a nod before he too left, leaving you with time to address Tech.

Tech had stayed behind under the guise of fixing the equipment but the careful avoidance of your gaze didn't go unnoticed. Seizing the moment for a much-needed conversation, you approached him with a deliberate calmness, hoping to bridge the growing gap between you.

"Tech?" you started, your voice softer than usual.

He paused, tools in hand, and finally met your eyes. The usual spark of curiosity was there, but it was overshadowed by a hesitance that hadn't been there before. "Yes?" he responded, his tone neutral yet guarded.

You took a deep breath, searching for the right words to navigate the delicate situation. “I’m sorry I never told you. We always wanted to leave it in the past.” You sighed. “I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”

Tech processed your words, the rigid lines of his posture softening. He set his tools down, giving you his full attention now. “If you are implying I would think less of you, that is not the case.” His mouth twitched to the side, his face still masked in neutrality he hesitantly continued. “However, it certainly makes adapting to our new dynamics more… complicated for me.”

Your confused expression prompted him to explain further, “Historically, the thought of your involvement with others was an… unenjoyable experience for me.” His back straightened and something passed through his brown eyes. “At present, I find myself challenged by the desire to offer you more preferable and memorable alternatives."

For the first time in almost a year, heat flared in your chest. You’d forgotten how intense Tech’s attention was. He’d hinted at jealousy in the past. But that short exchange made you wish he’d found out about your history with Echo much earlier.

You took a casual step forward. “I’d like to see what that brain of yours thinks up.”

Tech’s eyes widened for a moment, flitting to the door and back to you.. “I’ve already thought of multiple scenarios I believe you’d find suitable.”

“Are any of them suitable for a limited timeframe?”

His head tilted and, for the first time since your reunion, he gave you his braggadocious grin. “Precisely three.”

#honestly i love them #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch #tbb #my writing #tech #tbb tech #the bad batch tech #bad batch #star wars #tech x reader #echo x reader #the bad batch echo x reader #the bad batch tech x reader #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch echo #hunter x reader #hunter the bad batch x reader

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cognacdelights · 7 months ago

Text

play wicked games, win wicked prizes [1]

gif by @spacedean.

my supernatural masterlist

summary: she craves male validation. he's the best high she's ever gotten. now they're both stuck in a sick and twisted game of foreplay that neither are willing to lose.

warnings: daddy issues — daddy issues galore. self-esteem issues. i am well aware that this is not a healthy relationship and is for entertainment purposes only. sexual content and themes. swearing. alcohol use. religious undertones. small age gap romance.

author's note: this will be in two parts as it's looking like it's going to be around 15k words in total. second part will be released soon. minors have been warned. do not interact.

It was hard to define her relationship with The Winchester Brothers.

There was Sam; and he was just Sam. He was a year older than her, and the epitome of the dorky, older brother that she never had. He played board games with her and helped her with her Calculus homework. They shared book recommendations and did research together. She forced him to play Princesses with her and hold tea parties against his will.

But most importantly he was a friend. She’d never had a friend before. Not until the day that rusted, old Impala pulled up outside Bobby’s shop and John Winchester had all but begged Bobby to take his boys in for just a couple of nights. She remembered it like it was just yesterday — hiding behind the over stacked bookshelf, listening as the two older men argued back and forth. Bobby eventually gave in, as Bobby always did, and waved John off with a stern look and a handful of colourful curse words.

Up until that day, it had always been just her. And Bobby. Bobby did the best that he could, but he wasn’t her father, and he never got a break from the job. There was always a phone going off here, then a bloodied and injured hunter turning up at the door there, or the local Sherrif Department snooping around here, there, and everywhere.

Sam was shy at first. Quiet and introverted. He always had his head stuck in a book. She quickly learned that wasn’t entirely the case, he just took a little while to warm up to you. But once that match was lit, there was no stopping the fully-fledged campfire that burned. They were friends. Best friends, even, at times. They understood each other and found solace in knowing that they weren’t alone anymore. They were two peas in a pod.

Her relationship with Dean was far more complex.

He was older; five years older than her to be precise.

Dean didn’t pay her any attention at first. In fact, he barely even acknowledged her presence. He was hyper focused on Sam; always making sure that he ate his breakfast and brushed his teeth before bed. He was more of a parental figure to Sam than Bobby was. Between looking after Sam and helping Bobby research cases, he didn’t seem to have much time for her at all.

It wasn’t until the day of her eighth birthday that she really seemed to turn a corner with Dean. She spent the day sat on the windowsill, peering longingly out and waiting for her father to arrive. She was dressed head to toe in her best outfit; a white, frilly dress with a matching silk ribbon, tied around her plaited ponytail. Her perfectly polished shoes swung back and forth in anticipation as her chestnut eyes lit up with a hopeful glint at every swoosh of the trees and roar of an engine. She was so damned sure that he would come. Why wouldn’t he? He was her father. It was her birthday.

Dean knew that he wasn’t coming. He’d been around the block enough times to know how this played out, and it was never a happy ending. When the sky began to darken, he eventually sat beside her on the old, flattened cushions — a slice of cherry pie, topped with a singular lit candle, in his hand. He caught the saddened look that dimmed her eyes as the realisation began to set in.

Her father didn’t come that day, or the next day, or even the day after that. There wasn’t even so much as a phone call. He pulled up six weeks later with a broken arm and unrecognisable letters etched into a torn and bloodied piece of paper. The only reason Andrew Lawson had returned was to seek out Bobby’s help in translating the words. There was no big, shiny make-up gift, no birthday card, no apology. Just yet another rejection; he shooed her away so the adults could talk.

Dean, once again, saw the flash of hurt that glazed over her eyes. It pained him, because he saw so much of himself in her. He too had forgotten birthdays, and excitedly watched out of windows for his father to never arrive and had been banished from rooms so that the adults could talk. He too had been shoved to the very bottom of the priority list, and the knew the weight of the anguish that came along with that. He knew what that did to a child’s self-esteem.

As they grew older, they became closer.

Dean was a big part of her life. He taught her how to play soccer, including all the dirty plays to win the ball without the referee noticing. He taught her how to fight, and how to shoot a gun. He taught her how to drive — albeit illegally in a stolen, clapped-out banger that they joy rode around the backroads of Souix Falls. He gave the Lawson girl her first cigarette when she was just fifteen, much to Bobby’s dismay. He smoked up her first joint with her on the hood of The Impala. He bought her a four-pack of beer to take to her first high school party and drove her home, so she was safe. He took her to her first bar. He took her on her first hunt. He patched up her wounds. He bailed her out of jail after her first arrest.

They fought like cat and dog, and as only they could. Over anything and everything; the TV remote, supernatural lore, the rules of Monopoly. Whether she was ready for The Hunt. They used to drive Bobby insane with their bickering — with all the door slamming, and flipping off, and the countless “Son of a Bitch” curses that would echo through the house.

As she’d reached her twenties, they’d become the epitome of comfortable with each other. Perhaps too comfortable at times. They’d shared beds together and slept beside each other in the backseat of The Impala. She’d wear his clothes — his flannel shirts as jackets to keep herself warm, or his old, logo-printed t-shirts to bed. She was open about her sex life, as he was too. She’d brush her teeth whilst he was in the shower, and vice versa. She’d flitter through their motel rooms in nothing but a skimpy towel. She’d sit in his lap if there wasn’t a seat, or sometimes even if there was, and lay her head on his shoulder when she needed some soft, human contact. He’d run his fingers through her hair. He’d tug her jeans up by the belt loops, over the strings of her thong, and pull the hem of her skirt down as she drifted past him.

Somewhere — somehow — along the line, they had found themselves locked in this sick and twisted game of foreplay. Teasing. Taunting. Toying. It never went further than some light touching, but their mouths were nasty, and their thoughts were downright vulgar. They got a perverse kick out of it, especially her. In all the rejection from her father, she had turned to seeking out male validation to fill the void and Dean Winchester was the ultimate high; the random, slick-jawed man at a bar would give her a five-minute high at most before the shame would set in, but Dean would have her orbital for days. One look, one touch, one quick-witted comment would have her floating amongst the constellations.

And then, he died. Well, so she had assumed. Sam had explained that he was gone. Just gone. Nobody knew where, or how. He was just: gone.

Her world turned upside down. There were no more Orion-level highs, just five-minute boosts to her ego before the guilt-ridden shame would drag her back down into a pit of self-loathing. She swept her way through The South — hitting bar after bar, bedding man after man, destroying monster after monster. She drank and she smoked until she didn’t even recognise herself in the mirror anymore.

Until her phone rang — a number that had once been disconnected flashing across the screen. Sam Winchester.

“Good morning, you’ve reached Maggie May’s Flower Shop. How may we help you today?” she put on her best Southern Belle accent. Even though she knew damned well who was on the other end of the phone, she still turned out her spiel. She would be damned to the darkest corners of Hell if she didn’t put him through the ringer after almost a year of no contact.

“Maggie—” a timid voice sounded throughout the speaker, “—it’s Sam.” He waited anxiously for her to respond but when she remained silent, he was forced to continue. “We need your help.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I know a Sam. Have you placed an order with us?” Maggie shot back with a sickly sweetness to her tone.

There was a heavy breath on the opposite end of the phone. “Come on, Mags. We’re working a case, and we could really use your help… It’s rough out here.”

“May I suggest our apology bouquets,” she continued, standing her ground, “they’re just divine. Will smooth over almost any of your wrongdoings.”

“Apology bouquets—” a deeper, gruffer voice chuckled, “—what did you do?”

Maggie instantly dropped the Southern Belle façade. “Dean?” she questioned, voice dripping with surprise.

An uncouth melody of noises permeated from the phone. A whack. A loud groan. A grumble of curse words. “You didn’t tell her, Dumbass?”. Followed by rustling and shuffling. Then mumbling. They were arguing. Maggie couldn’t comprehend exactly what they were arguing over — the line was too crackly, and she was too hungover to concentrate — but they were most certainly at each other’s throats.

“Hello?” she huffed impatiently.

“Maggie May,” Dean’s husky voice filled her ears, “how you been?”

“Uh—” she didn’t know how to answer that question. The honest answer was far too much more than she was willing to give away to anyone, but to say that she had been just peachy would have been a downright lie. Both Dean and Sam would have seen right through it. “I’ve been more Sober in my life—” she bit her lip, despite the two brothers being unable to see, “—and I don’t remember getting back to my motel room. But I’m alone, so I think that counts for something.”

“How quickly can you get to Stillwater, Oklahoma? We’re working a job and could use you right about now.”

She rolled herself over under the quilted comforter until she teetered on the very edge of the bed, her dark locks falling into her face. “I don’t think I should be driving right now,” she admitted, vision blurry as she peeled herself out of the warmth and stumbled her way towards the bathroom. She pulled on the string for the light and was immediately met with harsh, white lighting. Her head throbbed as she let out an involuntary groan.

“Jesus, girl, how much did you drink?” he asked — his face scrunching up at the lethargic pads of her feet and the uncomfortable groans that echoed through the speaker.

“Enough to drown a fish,” Maggie mumbled back.

She stared at herself in the mirror; her eyes were bloodshot, and a dark, mauve bruise painted her cheek an unsightly manner. She hissed quietly as she ever so gently reached her fingers up to touch it. Bad idea. It pulsed with pain. On further inspection, she had a busted lip — dried blood coating the thin cut.

“Atta girl, I suppose.”

“I can be in Oklahoma in a day—” she answered, running the tap, “—but you’re gonna have to give me a few hours before the single vision kicks back in.” She splashed the cool water over her face and instantly regretted it. “What’s the case?” she asked.

“Two deaths at an all-girls Catholic boarding school,” Sam cut in.

“We can’t get close enough to figure out what’s going on,” Dean added.

“I guess I’ll start practicing my Hail Marys then.” Swiping the towel over her freckled features, she left the phone balancing on the edge of the porcelain sink.

“No amount of Hail Marys are gonna save you.”

She spat a response, “bite me, Winchester.”

“I’m sure you’d love that, sweetheart—” Dean chuckled, “—but we’ve got a couple of civvy deaths to deal with first.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

It had been a long twelve hours on the road, and by the time Maggie’s old, beat-up pick-up truck pulled into the motel parking lot it was pushing midnight. The red, neon light of the sign cast down onto the black asphalt, dimly lighting up a path to the several motel room doors, and the few wall lamps flickered every couple of seconds. The walls were peeling their beige paint — as if shedding all their unspoken sins away — and rusted, metal chairs lined the tiled walkway. It couldn’t have looked any shadier if it had tried.

Maggie killed the engine, watching as the warm lamps of her headlights faded into the darkness. She stepped out, the thick soles of her boots hitting solid ground for the first time in what felt like forever. The midnight air ran bitter, but it was a welcomed reprieve from the humid temperatures of New Orleans. A chill crept along her spine like two gentle fingertips — however, not a patch on Dean’s. She tugged the sleeves of her over-sized flannel over her fingers and proceeded down the walkway, leather duffle bag in hand.

If she hadn’t had it drilled into her that you always pick the motel room closest to the exit — in case the need for a quick getaway ever arose — the sleek, black Chevrolet Impala parked outside would have given which room they were staying in away. Well, that and the gruff sounds of their arguing. The curtains were pushed closed, but there was a light on in the room; two tall silhouettes appeared in front of the window as what she could only assume was the TV flashed advertisement after advertisement in the background.

“I’m not a child anymore, Dean—” Sam’s husky tone echoed through the courtyard, “—you don’t get to make decisions for me. If I say I’m good, then I’m good.”

Maggie stuffed a hand into the pocket of her flannel and retrieved a credit card; it was and old one in an alias that she no longer went by — most likely maxed out and with a red flag marked against it on the system.

“No, you don’t get to make these kinds of decisions when you take a year out,” Dean shot back. His voice was deep and gravelly, a sure sign that he’d been drinking. “You’re out of practice.”

She slid the credit card between the mouldy, wooden door and its frame and pressed her weight against it.

“This isn’t about me being ‘out of practice’,” Sam deduced — his words turning more accusatory than defensive, “why don’t you tell me what this is really about? Get it all out in the damn open.”

It was a tough lock, which was surprising for such a run-down, old motel; they were usually a lot easier than this to crack open. Maggie persevered, forcing the credit card into the gap with a masterful wiggle.

Dean argued back, “you’re slow, and you’re weak, and you’re not thinking ten steps ahead. You’re a freaking liability right now and I don’t have the time to be playing search and rescue every time something goes down.”

She found the sweet spot, and with a glorious click, the motel room door opened. She stepped inside, a satisfied grin curling the corners of her full lips upwards. Who needed a key card?

Within a matter of milliseconds, Maggie was staring down the barrels of two handguns — locked and loaded with two ring-cladded fingers hovering over the triggers. Two mean glares stared her down. Sam and Dean. She merely cocked her head to the side as a lopsided smirk swept across her fair features. She teased, “don’t you boys know it’s rude to point your gun at a lady?”

“Yeah?” Dean shot back with a surly attitude, “let me know when you find one.” He stood down, easily slipping the gun back into the waistband of his scuffed-up jeans.

She pouted playfully in response.

“Maggie,” Sam addressed her. His voice was significantly softer, almost breath-like, as he raked over her with guilt-ridden eyes. He followed suit and stood down. He nonchalantly threw his loaded weapon onto the half-made bed before looking back at the petite brunette before him. Sam wasn’t sure what else to say; in fact, he wasn’t sure that there was anything he could say to make the tension dissipate. Maggie May was going to hold a grudge for as long as Maggie May pleased.

“Sam.” Her chestnut eyes scoured over him in return. They started at the very top — taking in his long, mahogany locks. They were longer, but more kempt. He was wearing a new flannel shirt; she’d never seen him in a flannel of that colour. He still wore the worn, leather watch that his dad had given him, but it was set ever so slightly fast. The jeans were new too. There were no scuffs or rips, but the boots were worn in and old. She returned her gaze upwards and met his eyes for a brief second.

Then, she looked away. Her eyes caught the elder Winchester brother and immediately illuminated with a spark of relief. She let go of the leather handles and let her duffle bag drop to the floor with a soft thud. She took a step towards him, and then another, before wrapping her arms around his neck. Maggie held him tight, nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck as she stood on the tips of her toes.

“Dean.” His name was quiet and mumbled, almost as if she didn’t quite believe that he was there. She took a long breath, inhaling the familiar scent of his deep amber cologne. God, she had missed that smell.

A reticent laugh slipped from between his chapped lips. He placed a gentle kiss into her messy wisps and mumbled — the words quiet, as if they were ever only meant for her to hear, “Maggie Mayhem.” His burly arms wrapped around her slender figure and held her into his body just as tight. The palm of his hand laid flat against the bottom of her back, slipped beneath the hem of her leather jacket, and the pad of his thumb carefully stroked back and forth.

Realising the vulnerability that had clouded her voice, she steeled herself and mocked, “when are you finally going to stay dead? This is what— the third time now? Obituaries are expensive, you know.”

“I’ll write you a cheque for your losses,” another husky chuckle rumbled through his chest, unphased by her teasing.

Maggie felt Dean’s grip loosen around her and him begin to pull away. She wasn’t quite ready to let him go just yet, and instinctively held him tighter. She’d missed him — she’d missed that orbital high that came with his attention, his touch; and her damaged soul most definitely needed the recharge. It had been a long, emotional rollercoaster of a year without him. A few more seconds wouldn’t hurt. “Not yet,” she told him.

Dean simply relaxed — resting his chin atop her head and allowing her to melt into the warmth of their embrace. His hand dropped to her hip and leisurely hooked itself into the beltloop of her fitted jeans. He gave it a tender tug, covering the black string of her thong. He felt the tickling brushes of her eyelashes against his neck as she rolled her eyes in typical Maggie May fashion.

Sam merely watched on awkwardly. Him and Maggie were as close as two best friends could be, but they never quite reached the level that Maggie and Dean had; they were something different. What, he had no idea. It wasn’t his business, and neither of them were vulnerable enough to divulge anything like that to him. He’d never expected to receive the same greeting as Dean, but the frost-like look and the forced out of the weird uncomfortableness that hung over their friendship half-smiles made him feel a thousand miles away. He felt defeated, and tired.

Eventually, she retreated from his embrace feeling suitably secure. She left a small gap between their bodies and peered up at him, taking him in. His features were ever so slightly more weathered — framed by a dark but well-kept stubble. His lips were still full but dehydrated and his eyebrows untamed.

Dean frowned as he finally noticed the bruise that painted her cheek an unsightly shade of plum. “What happened to your face?” he questioned — his finger propping her chin upwards for him to gage a better look, and his thumb securing her in place.

Maggie rolled her eyes once more at the protective undertones, pulling out of his grip and turning her back to him. “It was just some stupid girl whose boyfriend couldn’t control his wandering eye, that’s all,” she shrugged her shoulders at the half-truth and retrieved her duffle bag from the floor, “she caught me off guard.”

“Hmm,” he hummed in response — not entirely believing her; Maggie May had a knack for finding trouble.

“So, uh—” Sam shoved a hand into the depths of his jean pockets, “—the case?”

Maggie stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, her chestnut eyes settling on her bare features. Her eyes were tired and heavy after the long drive to Oklahoma, and surrounded by two cushions of dark circles. Her skin was dull and fair, more than likely from the lack of natural sunlight that she had seen in the last God-knows-how-many months of crawling through bars and spending her days sleeping off hangovers in shady motel rooms. The mauve bruise that tarnished her cheek looked angry and painful — deepening as the blood settled and the tissue began to repair. Her busted lip was sore, aggravated by every slight movement she made. She looked like a ghost — physically and metaphorically; her vessel was very much present but there was no light behind her eyes, and no spark in her soul.

She continued to stare into her own reflection, meeting her own gaze in an intense battle under the harsh bathroom light; she was a mess, in every sense of the word. If she were to stand before her younger self, she wouldn’t have the slightest indication of who she was. Hell, she wouldn’t even recognise herself if she bumped into her from a year ago. All the years of being on the road, all the losses that she had felt, and all the rejection that she had faced had finally caught up to her — and it wasn’t a pretty sight, to say the least.

There came the ever-familiar waves of no self-worth again, hitting the solitude rocks of her self-esteem at full force.

She pulled a tube of antiseptic cream from the makeshift first aid kit. Squeezing a small dot onto her finger, she then dabbed it against the crusty cut on her lip, careful and tender with her touches. A quiet hiss involuntarily slipped between her lips as her dark eyebrows furrowed into a frown. The ointment burned as it seeped deeper into the cut.

Maggie turned her head and peered out of the open bathroom door. Dean was sat in the leather armchair — jean-clad legs manspread, a police report in one hand and a freshly-cracked bottle of beer in the other. There was a pensive aura that surrounded him. His fingers gripped the beer bottle with a tightened grasp, and his jaw had locked, almost as if it was holding back a barrage of thoughts. He stared intently at the words printed on the page, yet never turned to the next. There was something on his mind.

She saw it as an in. A reason. An excuse.

Letting the half-used tube of ointment fall into the sink, Maggie wandered back into the bedroom space. She was quiet and soft in her movements — almost timid — until she reached Dean. His eyes remained fixed on the police report, and a pang of upset coursed through her; Maggie was used to commanding his attention — his heavy-lidded eyes falling naturally on her and feeling the heat of his stare.

Her bare knees fell either side of his body as she straddled his lap, the hem of the over-sized t-shirt exposing the glorious lengths of her thighs. With one swift motion, she’d stolen the freshly cracked bottle of beer from his grasp. Her lips twitched upwards into a smug, but angelic, smile as Dean raised his eyebrows at her questioningly. The bottle ghosted her full lips — the very tip of her tongue tracing the rim in an enticing circle as her chestnut eyes locked with his, before taking a long swing.

Dean watched attentively as Maggie had her fun, his eyes glued to her. She was so effortlessly seductive; everything about her — from the way her delectable thighs spread open in his lap, to the way her tongue ever so slowly traced around the bottle rim, and the way the thin fabric settled over her taut nipples and the piercing bars — exuded lust. Piercings? That was new.

His tongue dragged along his bottom lip in an effort to quench the thirst that had been awakened in him. Although, it barely scratched the surface. It had been a hell of a long time since his engines had been roaring, nevertheless had been taken for a test drive; he’d spent the last year wandering purgatory in survival mode, where he rarely ever found a second to breathe. Maggie May was well and truly testing his patience in that moment. And boy, did she know it…

He reached for the bottle, but it was promptly moved from his grasp.

Maggie stretched upwards, holding the half-empty bottle above her head, and peered down at him with a taunting glint in her eye. He reached once more — shifting himself into the most compromising position. He reached upwards once more, unintentionally pushing his crotch further against Maggie. Big mistake. She rolled her hips in a flirtatious retaliation, arching her back and pressing her clothed pussy against his lap.

It took every ounce of strength not to give in to her, but he did it. Dean remained steeled — the deep, husky groans that begged to be released begrudgingly shoved down into the very pit of his stomach, and his lips pressed into a thin line. He was semi-hard beneath her, pressing against the zipper of his jeans, as he placed his firm hand on her thigh. It was a gentle but commanding hold as his ring-cladded fingers slipped beneath the over-sized t-shirt and gripped the skin, his thumb rubbing tender back and forth patterns against the inside of her thigh.

“Maggie May,” he warned.

“Yes?” she cocked her head to the side innocently.

“Don’t start something we can’t finish.”

“Aw, cute—” she taunted with another leisurely roll of her hips, “—you don’t think you can make me cum.”

A fervent groan slipped from between his lips as his dick grew harder against the constraints of his jeans. His jaw tightened as his fingernails pressed crescent shapes into her skin, forcing her to be still. Choosing to ignore her teasing, he sent her a deathly glare — one that dared her to try that move again; it appeared to have worked as she relaxed her posture, sitting herself innocently on his erection and keeping still.

Placing the police report down on the wooden table, he gestured with his finger for her to return his beer.

Reluctantly, she handed it back, but not before she took another large gulp.

Dean took a swig of the now half-empty beer and allowed his fingertips to wander. His hand moved further up her thigh, his fingers catching and tangling themselves in the string of her thong. His thumb dragged ever so tenderly over the crease in her hips where legs bent, tracing back and forth motions. It was so instinctual, as though his hand gravitated towards there — like the soft dips in her skin were made for the palms of his hands.

Maggie stared down at him with sensual, umber eyes. Heavy-lidded and burning with a heat fuelled by the dopamine that coursed through her veins. This was it. This was Maggie in her element; enriched by the power of holding every last drop of his attention, alive and awakened by the electricity of his touch, and riding a high so orbital that her soul was one with the solar flares of the sun. She felt like herself again — full of confidence, and full of life.

“You finally got ‘em pierced then?” Dean mused with a questioning raise of his eyebrows and his gaze trained on her taut nipples. They pressed against the thin fabric of her over-sized t-shirt, practically on show for the whole world to see.

For a brief second, her eyes dropped to her breasts — following his. Then, she responded with an audacious smirk. “I sure did,” a low laugh slipped from between her lips, “wanna see?”

Dean tilted his head backwards as he repositioned himself in the chair. His hips shifted forwards and his shoulders slouched into the cushioned back of his chair. He tipped the bottle downwards and emptied it’s remaining contents in a slow and tactical swig. Of course he wanted to see. He was steeling himself; it truly had been a long time since he’d had any sexual gratification and the immediate flashes of her naked body above him — pierced tits bouncing playfully as she rode him under the warm, orange glows of the motel sconces — had sent him into an oblivion. Maggie May was becoming harder and harder to resist.

He somehow managed to remain calm, dowsing the fire in the pit of his stomach with his beer and plastering an unfaltering poker face across his features. That was until he felt his dick harden and strain against his zipper, giving him away.

Maggie felt it too and responded with another leisurely roll of her hips. A devilish glint occupied her eyes as her smirk grew wider. Damn, that girl would be the death of him one way or another.

“Those daddy issues got you well and good, haven’t they?” Dean retorted. He placed the empty beer bottle on the table.

“Uh huh—” she agreed with a sardonic grit to her words, “—my daddy didn’t love me enough so now I need men twice my age to tell me how good my tits look to get me through the day.” She leant forwards, back arched, and pouted her full lips. “Either tell me how good my tits look or take it up with Andrew. If you can find him.”

Hooking his finger beneath the hem of her shirt, his beer-soaked breath fanned against her face. “You’re every therapist’s wet dream.”

“Glass houses, Winchester.” She paused for a second as the pad of her finger traced his jawline. The coarse hairs of his stubble sent a shiver running down her spine. “I’ll book a couples session—” she dropped her hand, “—and we can both hash out our Daddy demons. Maybe then we’ll finally stop playing this silly, little game with each other and fuck for real.”

She wasn’t far wrong. In fact, she’d hit the nail flat on its head. Whilst Maggie’s father was an absentee who had rejected her in every possible way that he could find, Dean’s father had placed unrealistic expectations and responsibilities on him from a young age. Both carried the burdens of their father’s parenting styles, or lack thereof; both would very much benefit from a professional listening ear and some advice on how to form healthy adult relationships. But, alas, they were here.

“Now, hold up—” Dean’s tone was thick and gravelly as he began lifting the hem of her shirt with his finger, “—let’s not fix what ain’t broke. Show me them pretty, pierced titties.”

Maggie pulled her t-shirt up, holding it in place and revealing her bare breasts. Her nipples were a delicious rose colour and tightened into little buds as the silver bars pierced between them.

He dragged his tongue along the length of his bottom lip again, admiring the sight before him. And what a sight she was. His finger ran slowly underneath the waistband of her baby pink thong. Yes, baby pink thong with a sweet, satin bow in the very middle of the waistband. That had surprised him; Dean had never pinned her down as being a pink and frilly bows type of woman. He’d always thought of her as red and black lace. Nevertheless, the way the fabric fit her body so perfectly still made his skin burn and his mouth run dry.

With a gentle tug, he pulled the string up over her hipbone and let it sit. He then traced her skin upwards — lackadaisical with his movements. The calloused pad of his finger brushed over a scar that tainted her stomach. An old, healed over stab wound. His touch was tender as he sketched the outline of her silhouette, until eventually landing on her breasts. He cupped her boob with his warm palm and allowed his thumb to ghost over her poised nipple.

She let out a jagged breath at the contact.

Dean found his rhythm, circling his thumb over her sensitive bud and rolling it between his fingers.

“Ohhhh.” Maggie let out a breathy moan as she rolled her head backwards. It was an involuntary reaction that she couldn’t stop even when channelling every ounce of might that she had; it was carnal and deep-rooted within her. As was rocking her hips back and forth in a slow and salacious cadence. She was acting on pure instinct and throwing absolute caution to the wind — acutely aware that neither had dared to venture this far with one another.

Dean sat forwards, his now moist lips almost instantly finding her other nipple. His tongue traced a slow circuit around her sensitive bud before his teeth nibbled ever so gently. He sucked, and licked, and nipped to his heart’s content — spurred on by the lustful whines and breathy moans that spilled, one after the other, from between her lips.

She reached her hands between them, her voluptuous hips coming to a gradual stop, and fiddled with the button of his jeans. It was hard to undo them one-handed — the angle was awkward and the old, metal button was stiff — but she managed. Her dainty fingers slipped inside, palming his erection through his boxers until his rugged breaths didn’t send shivers jolting down her spine. She wanted more; she wanted to hear the strangled, husky moans that crawled from the very depths of his throat as they made skin on skin contact.

Maggie pulled his hardened dick from the constraints of his boxers and curled her fingers around his length. She pumped him up and down, revelling in his grunts and groans. They vibrated against her delicate skin and sent shockwaves of electricity through her body — right down to the very tips of her fingers and toes. This was it. This was Maggie at the very peak of her orbital high; she was sat atop the world, spinning aimlessly with the constellations and soaking in the vibrant solar flares of the sun. She was as high as she had ever been, and she wasn’t sure she was ever going to come down from this point. She was lost to the cosmos.

She peeled back the fabric of her damp thong and positioned herself above him. The tip of his dick leaked with pre-cum as it ghosted over her folds — coating himself in her slick.

Then, as he found her entrance, the unmistakable roar of his 1967 Chevy Impala engine sounded throughout the motel room. Maggie whipped her head towards the window — the blaring headlights blinding her, even through the old, dust-covered curtains. It was Sam. With almighty impeccable timing.

She swiftly turned back to face Dean, who had begrudgingly detached himself from her breasts, and looked down at him. A pained expression contorted her blush-tinged features as she let her panties go and stood from the chair. She took a step backwards, then another, and another, until she found the cheap quilt of the bed. She sat down and clamped her thighs together — eyes dazed and her core utterly aching for the man before her.

Dean stood from the chair and tucked himself back into his boxers. His jeans remained unbuttoned and loose around his hips. He dragged a hand through his dishevelled hair as his chest heaved up and down. “I’m gonna…” he nodded towards the bathroom as his words fizzled out, his sentence incomplete.

All Maggie could do was nod in understanding and watch as he disappeared into the bathroom, the door closing swiftly behind him. Her breaths remained heavy as she struggled to calm herself down — her cheeks still stained vermillion and her temperature almost feverous. The sound of the water running flooded the motel room.

Shit. There came that rapid descent back down to Earth.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #jensen ackles

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f1daydreamers · 4 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his team’s mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.

A/N: Check out the masterlist for the first two parts if you haven’t read them already! Also, thank you so much for the kind comments on my posts, they mean more to me than you’ll ever know!

Warnings: this one’s a bit more fluffy, still a very reserved Trent tho

Word Count: 1.9k words (7 mins reading avg)

…

The first match to kickstart the club’s season was undeniably close.

The pressure had been mounting palpably in the last few weeks, evident in the increasingly focused, sharper, and heavier training sessions.

You didn’t have a personal experience with them, more so the ones that Conor had been complaining about.

But despite being unable to travel to the US, you’d personally assumed that preseason had been a success.

You’d caught highlights when they dropped and heard murmurs of staff satisfaction with certain performances circulating around the centre.

You hadn’t been able to get many sessions in though, only a touch few with Conor, as he was your top priority given his age.

He’d done remarkably well the previous season under Jurgen when top performances were needed, but working on his mental stability was always a key factor and one of extreme importance.

"Congrats," you smiled warmly as the Irishman approached, his own smile mirroring yours. You acknowledged his successful time in America.

“You must be feeling great,” you remarked, smiling gently.

His dimples were evident as he nodded, a sense of fulfilment telling in his stance. “Yeah, yeah. It was good, enjoyed it proper.”

You let him continue on, giving brief welcomes and some hugs to the players as they piled in one by one within the hour before their training began.

You felt a pang of frustration as Trent walked directly past you, refusing to even meet your eyes as he acknowledged only a few of the staff who were standing off to the side.

Dismissing it, you turned your attention to Wataru as he approached next.

You needed to focus on the players who were working with you. It was crucial, especially as the season was fast-approaching.

Or so you kept telling yourself.

“Y/N,” you glanced back, a smile forming as you spotted Arne trying to catch your attention.

“How are you doing?” He asked as you fell into step with him, continuing to walk down the corridor towards the gym where he was headed.

“Good, yeah. You?” You kept it short and sweet, fully aware that he was a busy man.

“Doing okay. About your request you sent before preseason,” Arne continued, prompting both of you to stop and face each other, a hopeful anticipation in the air.

“It’s fine with me and Lee doesn’t have any issues with it. But, if there is no improvement, then the sessions will need to resume as planned. Okay?” He nodded affirmatively.

“Yes, of course. I-I understand. Thank you.” You replied gratefully, your appreciation evident as he patted your shoulder before leaving you.

…

The city was buzzing with activity as match day quickly approached. Red flares blazing around the city, shirts and scarves already adorned the day before.

The players were being put through their paces in the final training session before the big game. Having an hour free in the mornings after your request was approved meant you could utilise it in a different way.

You observed the session from the sidelines, making mental notes of the players' demeanours and interactions. Trent was, as usual, intensely focused. Every movement, every touch of the ball deliberate.

After the session had concluded for the day, you made your way to the changing rooms. Some were discussing tactics, sharing jokes, and some were lost in their thoughts, mentally preparing.

You approached Conor, who was pulling his boots off his feet, and sat beside him.

"Ready for tomorrow?"

He looked up, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, I think so. Just need to stay focused."

"Remember what we talked about," you reminded him gently. "Always be ready, visualise your game, see yourself succeeding."

Conor nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He raised his fist, and you met it with a bump. "Thanks, Y/N. It helps, you know."

A wave of relief washed over you. Reminding yourself that you were doing a good job was one thing, but hearing it from someone you always tried to help was another.

"I'm glad," you said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Upon hearing Arne clasp his hands together, forcing everyone to quiet down and hear the gaffer out, you silently gave Curtis and Wataru a nod before slipping out of the room.

As you turned, you nearly collided with Trent. He tutted, sidestepping in order to slide past you and into the changing rooms. You'd hoped that once he was informed of your approved request, he'd be slightly less frowny.

But seemingly, the opposite was happening.

…

You had just finished Curtis' report when a knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. Mustering a tired smile, you called out, "come in."

Lee popped his head through the door, and you rose from your chair. "Hey, everything okay?"

He entered the office, closing the door behind him but not completely. With his hands raised in mock surrender, he said, "yeah, yeah, all good. I just uh wanted to ask if you caught Trent." "I thought you approved my request?" you asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "I did," he confirmed, stepping forward. "But I saw Trent hanging around your office just after training." "What? Why?" you asked, bewildered. You tried to think back to earlier, but all you remembered was that you were definitely not in your office. "He didn't say. Didn't seem happy, though." Lee shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight on to either feet. "Not much difference there, then." You sighed, placing your hands on your hips. "I'm confused. If he knew about the request, why would he show up?" You asked, and the senior consultant shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. You both thought about it for a moment until Lee spoke again, "are you sure Arne let him know?" Your head tilted, mouth slightly parting as realisation dawned on you.

Oh.

"I'm pretty sure Arne didn't because you were meant to," you said, trying to keep your tone casual despite the frustration creeping in.

The first session Trent had supposedly shown up for, you weren't even there. Suddenly, his avoidance of you after you'd exited the changing rooms made a lot more sense. He must’ve just come down from your office. "I was?" Lee asked, clearly taken aback. You let your head fall back in exhaustion but slowly nodded moments later. Shuffling through the papers on your desk, you found the one you needed and handed it to Lee. He scanned over the text, before he looked up again.

“Y/N, I feel terrible. I can go find him." Remorse painted itself across his features.

"It's okay," you replied. "It's better if he hears it from me." You aimed to justify poorly.

Because you had a very successful track record of not pissing Trent off, obviously.

...

Later in the day, you found yourself back in the canteen, grabbing a quick coffee.

It was well past noon, but with the mountain of reports you needed to write about the players' psychological states before tomorrow, caffeine was your only ally.

Trent walked in, looking for a snack. Being on the bottom of his 'I don't want to talk to you' list every day meant the outcome of your conversations with him were quite forseeable.

Deciding to address the elephant in the room, you walked up and pushed all doubts to the back of your mind. You reached out and touched his arm to get his attention, and he reacted immediately.

He turned to face you, and you lowered your hand slowly.

“Can we talk for a second?” you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

His jaw hardened. “I'm busy.”

"I promise it won't take long." You countered.

"Considering I don't care about your promises, that don’t mean shit to me." He's on a roll with the irony, you thought to yourself.

You glanced at a sympathetic Carol who was standing on the other side of the serving station.

"Please?" You blinked slowly, praying to the powers that be to instill some patience in the man.

He picked up a bag of trail mix, before watching your face for a few seconds. You were half-expecting him to tell you to eat shit, but you were wrong.

An unusually pleasant surprise.

You nodded to a quieter corner and led the way, with him following behind before you whisked around.

"I'm so sorry." You fiddled with the cup of coffee in your hand.

Past his hardened anger, you'd felt bad for him. The courage to have shown up only to be let down isn't a feeling that would've altered his perception of you.

"I don't care." His gaze bore into yours, unyielding.

You frowned slightly. "I do. I told you I'd keep trying to reach you and-"

"What's your point?"

His eyes travelled down to your fidgeting fingers before dragging back up to your face. He sighed, clearly bored.

"Lee was meant to tell you," you paused, gathering your words. His eyes narrowed.

A flush of guilt coloured your cheeks. "I put in a request before preseason to cancel our sessions together."

You looked up, trying to gauge his reaction. The crease between his brows was prominent. "It was approved, and Lee was supposed to tell you, but he must've forgotten."

It hurt to let someone down. As a chronic people-pleaser, this likely frustrated you way more than it did Trent.

He leaned against the wall behind him, bringing one knee up. He crossed his arms but his eyes lightened. "So, you're telling me that..."

He paused to pop an almond into his mouth. "You admitted defeat?"

Either he was smirking, or you were being incredibly delusional.

You shook your head. "No, I never gave up on you. I thought maybe you needed a different approach." Explaining your previous actions felt pathetically awkward.

His lips pressed together. "Or maybe you just couldn’t handle it."

You rolled your eyes, your features still guilt-ridden. "Does that make you happy or something?"

His eyes roved over your features, and for a moment, his expression softened.

"Oh, you have no idea, psychologist."

You swallowed, feeling a flutter of surprise. Your eyes widened slightly, the gentleness in his features unexpected.

Just then, Curtis walked by and caught the tail end of your conversation. “Are you two flirting or fighting?” He teased, winking at his Scouse counterpart.

Your expression didn't change, but Trent looked over, staring at him. “Can’t you tell the difference, mate? Your missus must have a hard time putting up with you.” He remarked a little too quickly.

Curtis' mouth fell open as some of the players snickered at the exchange. To your surprise, Trent let out a genuine laugh - an unfamiliar sound that retained your attention.

He pushed off the wall and ambled over, casually draping an arm over his friend's shoulder.

On another day, maybe you would've joined into the jokes that were being thrown around but you were oddly rendered silent.

His almost playful disposition was a complete contrast to the tension that had clouded your interactions since the day you'd met.

It was almost as if he genuinely believed he was rid of you, and this moment of levity was his way of signalling relief.

You took a deep breath.

The casual banter, although lighthearted, felt jarring. Without another word, you walked out of the canteen, the enigma of his sudden change nagging at you.

As you exited, Trent’s gaze followed you, his eyes tracing your retreating figure. He seemed poised to follow you, a sign of a subtle, perhaps unconscious shift in his stance.

His eyes lingered on your departing form, as if grappling with an unspoken urge to either see where you were going or say something to you, though he wasn't quite sure what.

Yet only as he started to move, Curtis' voice cut through the moment. "Oi, where you off to?" Trent shook his head, a half-smile still playing on his lips as he rejoined the group.

Oddly, his attention remained fixed on the door for just a bit longer, as if expecting you to turn back around, before he fully immersed himself back into the conversation.

…

Part 4

Masterlist

Comment below if you want to be part of the taglist! Once you are part of it, you'll be reminded for every part of the series until its completion!

Taglist: @trentwife @bluebreadenthusiast @julovesurmom @blubsberries @remmysthings @heyjudeb @keepitabuckxx @vivi-grace @hoddystark @hiireadstuff @trentione @missusstark @iamasimpingh0e

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estapa-edwards · 5 months ago

Note

can you do a Jack Hughes x reader on their engagement day. Like Jack is awarded with something within the New Jersey devils and takes pictures with family and ends up giving reader a signed game worn jersey asking her for a hand in marriage and reader says yes, he also gets down on one knee and gives reader an big diamond ring. Thanks❤️❤️❤️❤️

ENGAGEMENT - J.HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x reader

word count: 1.3k

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

The night was electric at the Prudential Center, home of the New Jersey Devils. The atmosphere was filled with anticipation as fans poured in, eager for a night of celebration and hockey. It wasn’t just any game night; it was a night dedicated to honoring Jack Hughes, the Devils' rising star. Jack had been awarded the prestigious title of the team's Most Valuable Player, a testament to his incredible season and growing influence in the NHL. But for Jack, this night held an even more significant meaning.

Y/N stood among the crowd, her heart swelling with pride as she watched Jack take the ice. The spotlight followed him, illuminating his journey from a promising rookie to a celebrated player. She knew how hard he had worked, the countless hours of practice, the physical and mental challenges, and the unwavering determination that had brought him to this moment.

As the ceremony commenced, the arena's giant screens played highlights of Jack's best plays. The crowd erupted in cheers with every goal and assist, their admiration for Jack palpable. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a surge of happiness. She had been by Jack's side through it all, his biggest supporter and confidante.

Jack's family was also present, their faces beaming with pride. His parents, Ellen and Jim Hughes, stood alongside his brothers, Quinn and Luke, all sharing in the joy of Jack's achievement. The Hughes family had always been close-knit, their bond unbreakable. Y/N felt a warm connection with them, having been welcomed into their family with open arms.

As the ceremony reached its peak, the Devils' captain handed Jack a trophy, recognizing him as the MVP. The crowd's applause was deafening. Jack, usually composed, had a hint of emotion in his eyes as he held the trophy aloft. He took the microphone, his voice steady but filled with gratitude.

"Thank you all for this incredible honor," Jack began. "I couldn't have done this without the support of my teammates, coaches, and, of course, my amazing family. You all have been my rock."

His gaze shifted towards Y/N, his eyes locking with hers. "And to Y/N," he continued, his voice softening, "you've been my biggest supporter, my partner through thick and thin. I couldn’t have asked for a better person to share this journey with."

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. The crowd cheered once more, but all she could focus on was Jack, his words resonating deeply within her.

After the ceremony, Jack was whisked away for photos with his family and team. Y/N watched from the sidelines, her heart brimming with love and admiration. She saw Jack's interactions with his family, the genuine smiles and laughter they shared. It was evident how much this moment meant to all of them.

Jack caught Y/N's eye and waved her over. "Come on, Y/N, join us!" he called, his smile wide and inviting. She made her way over, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. The photographer positioned them, and they took several photos, capturing the joy and pride of the night.

As the photoshoot wrapped up, Jack turned to Y/N, his expression serious yet tender. "There's one more thing I need to do," he said, reaching into his bag. He pulled out a game-worn jersey, his number emblazoned on the back. The jersey was a symbol of his journey, the sweat and effort he had poured into every game.

"Y/N," Jack began, holding the jersey out to her, "this is for you. It's more than just a piece of clothing; it's a part of my journey, a journey that I want you to continue being a part of."

Y/N took the jersey, her hands trembling slightly. She looked up at Jack, her eyes glistening with emotion. "Jack, I—"

But before she could finish, Jack took a deep breath and got down on one knee. The arena seemed to hold its breath, the crowd falling silent as they realized what was happening. Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it to reveal a stunning diamond ring, its brilliance catching the light and sparkling like a thousand stars.

"Y/N," Jack said, his voice filled with emotion, "you’ve been with me through every high and low. You’ve supported me, believed in me, and loved me unconditionally. I can't imagine my life without you. Will you marry me?"

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she looked at Jack, her heart overflowing with love. "Yes," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "Yes, Jack, I will marry you."

The crowd erupted into applause, their cheers echoing through the arena. Jack slipped the ring onto Y/N's finger and stood, pulling her into a tight embrace. They shared a kiss, the world around them fading away as they celebrated their love and commitment.

The Devils' mascot, NJ Devil, danced around them, adding a touch of humor to the heartfelt moment. Jack's teammates and family surrounded them, their congratulations and well-wishes blending with the cheers of the fans. It was a moment of pure joy, a perfect culmination of Jack's achievements on the ice and his love off it.

As the night continued, the celebration grew. The Devils won their game, adding to the night's happiness. Y/N and Jack found themselves at the center of attention, their engagement the talk of the evening. They took more photos, with Y/N proudly wearing Jack's game-worn jersey, a symbol of their shared journey.

Jack's parents embraced Y/N, welcoming her officially into their family. "We're so happy for you both," Ellen said, tears of joy in her eyes. "You’ve always been like a daughter to us, and now it's official."

Quinn and Luke teased their brother, but their happiness was evident. "About time, Jack," Quinn joked, clapping him on the back. "You’re a lucky guy, Y/N's amazing."

As the night wore on, Y/N and Jack stole a few moments alone, away from the crowd. They stood on the ice, the arena now quiet and empty. The silence was peaceful, a stark contrast to the earlier excitement.

"I can't believe this," Y/N said softly, looking at the ring on her finger. "It's like a dream."

Jack took her hands in his, his gaze tender. "It's our dream, Y/N. We've been through so much together, and this is just the beginning. I promise to always be there for you, to love and support you just like you’ve done for me."

Y/N smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. "I love you, Jack. I'm so proud of you, and I'm so excited for our future."

They shared another kiss, the cold ice beneath their feet a reminder of where their journey had started. It was on the ice that Jack had found his passion, and it was on the ice that he had found his love.

As they walked off the ice hand in hand, Y/N glanced back at the empty arena. It held so many memories, and now it held one of the most precious moments of her life. She knew there would be challenges ahead, but with Jack by her side, she felt ready to face anything.

Their engagement day was more than just a celebration of Jack's achievements; it was a celebration of their love and commitment to each other. It was a night they would remember forever, a night that marked the beginning of a new chapter in their lives.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Y/N looked up at the stars. They seemed to shine brighter, reflecting the happiness in her heart. She squeezed Jack's hand, feeling the promise of their future together.

"Here's to us," Jack said, his voice filled with hope and excitement.

"Here's to us," Y/N echoed, her heart full of love.

And with that, they walked into their future, ready to face whatever came their way, together.

#hockey #nhl x reader #new jersey devils #nj devils #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine

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euphoricfilter · 1 year ago

Text

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟔

it’s been 14 days, no action? :(

tags/ warnings: game designer! jungkook || non-idol au || established relationship || angst || slight comfort? || bro gets no action || he’s just sad

word count: 1k

notes: no taglist ‼️

☆ epic callob with @bonny-kookoo 💕 ☆

☆ series masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

It’s silent in the car, aircon blasting as Jungkook just sits there staring at the dashboard of his car.

When he glances over at the clock it sinks in that you’re not coming back downstairs.

It had been an hour.

Which he knows is enough time for reality to settle in for you, that if you wanted out it would have been decided by now and he’d be driving the both of you home. Reality sinks in, yet he can’t bring himself to start the ignition just quite yet. The smallest sliver of hope that any moment now you’d open the door to the lobby, and he’d already be there waiting for you.

His phone lays open on your chat, last messages from over a week ago. No sign of you typing to message him saying you made a mistake wanting to stay at a friend’s house for the night. No ‘I miss you’, no ‘I love you’.

He swallows, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he knocks his head back against the seat.

“Shit” he whispers, tongue pressing into his cheek.

The streetlights blur behind a veil of tears, slipping down his cheeks as his bottom lip quivers.

His feet tap against the floor as he tries to swallow down a sob, ugly ache blossoming within his chest. He wonders if it’s fully due to you not being with him tonight, or if it was partially the fact the last couple of weeks had been the most stressful of his life. So many fickle emails and bratty clients. His mind melted after minimal hours of sleep, locked up in that crappy office of his for more hours than he had ever wished for.

Or if maybe partial to the fact that he could feel the both of you slipping further away from one another, your fingers slipping from between his. Sticky vines that tied your souls together slowly unfurling until you’d slipped from his side, pretty flower of your existence slowly wilting, where all he can do is watch. So caught up with what other people needed of him, that not only had he neglected himself, but you too.

His phone screen glares at him, another minute ticking by on the clock. He snatches it off the seat, hand running over his jaw as his mind cranks back to life.

He sits there for a moment, ‘I miss you’

He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to guilt trip you to come home.

His tongue runs over his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowing in the slightest. Fingers tapping away on the screen, game of battle ship sending into the chat.

He stares at it, body prickling with anticipation, hope firm in his chest as he waits.

It can’t be more than a couple of minutes before you’re accepting the game, always a lot better than him at it. Though he didn’t mind losing this time if it meant any meagre sort of interaction with you. The small truce with whatever you had going on mending that little crack in his fragile soul.

It’s when you’re half way through the game does he get the notification.

‘14 days without logging in, no action? :(‘

His shoulders slump forwards a little, quickly swiping out of the game you were playing to check on his app.

His feet patter against the floor as it loads, impatience seeping from every fibre of his being as it opens. His fingers are quick to flick through each of the columns, mouth tipping open a little wider as he catches sight of his score.

Third place too. Not even second. Third.

20 orgasms behind schedule, utterly awful that he would ever neglect you of that, even if it weren’t intentional.

“Oh hell no” he cries, tears clinging to his lashes. His head tips forward, heart hammering against his chest when he startles himself, loud ring of the car horn echoing off each of the houses of the street. He sits up with wide eyes, peering out the window beside him, eyes focusing on your friend’s apartment. Suddenly embarrassed at the prospect of him waiting outside in hopes of you changing your mind.

He’s quick to swipe back into your chat, quick to play his turn of the game before he’s opening his browser.

He scrolls through each of the tabs, patting around the passenger’s seat for his glasses. He fumbles to turn the small overhead light on, hand brushing through his hair as he finds the tab he was looking for.

He wouldn’t be paid for another week, the flights staring back at him from his phone. Realistically if the both of you didn’t indulge for the week, then it would be fine, price for the both of you sending his bank balance reeling.

He swallows down the thought of all the money that’s about to go out of his account, false reassurance that it would all be worth it by the time he gets paid for all the work he’d put in over the last couple of weeks.

“It’s okay” he whispers, fingers tightening around his phone. He pauses, tapping open his banking app to make sure he wasn’t about to go into the negatives because the universe knows you would berate him beyond belief if you ever found out he was in the negatives.

He doesn’t think about it, fingers pressing against the screen, janky wheel of the booking website taking longer than he would have liked to spin. A short puff of reassurance dissipating from his chest when the confirmation email comes through: two plane tickets for the both of you. That, and with the Airbnb all booked, Maria having confirmed that it was totally okay for the both of you to go as wild as you liked over your stay in her place, even offering to stock it up with snacks for the first night you’re there, Jungkook’s plan was finally underway.

Only a little while longer, countable sleepless nights, ongoing projects that had become the bane of his existence almost ready to be sent off onto some other poor sucker before it’s even thought to be released.

Months of planning, months of stress and hurt and utter shit. Yet he could see it, the moment both of your hearts reach out for one another again, bodies warm pressed together, unbridled love shared through gentle kisses. Everything back to how he liked it before life had become too hectic.

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goldfades · 7 months ago

Note

nika muhl hcs of her love languages?

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 ─ NK¹⁰

─ word count | 329

─ warnings | nothing but fluff!

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @uraesthete @hello-nah817 @wanderlusturous @paigeszn @ekisokau @plushkhiii and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

─ ev's notes | i tried a new style! of course i'm still gonna do normal headcanons but this style felt a little better, i hope yall enjoy!!

QUALITY TIME

Nika loves spending her free time with the people she genuinely loves. If she doesn't really care for you, she will never ever spend more than a moment with you if she doesn't care about you. In her eyes, her time is incredibly valuable so she only spends time with people she cares about (or at least, likes)

Any time she isn't at practice or games, she's with you. She's in your dorm, just relishing in your company. She doesn't even necessarily even have to be talking with you ─ you both could be doing your own things, it's just being around you that she likes. It helps her destress, knowing that she can spend time with you without putting too much energy into it. Your energy recharges hers, it's her favorite thing in the world.

ACTS OF SERVICE

Anytime you need anything, and I truly mean anything ─ she will do it for you. Whether it's as simple as washing the dishes or having to drive an hour to pick you up. She will do it.

Again, she thinks her time is incredibly valuable so when she does these things for you, she does it out of the love she has for you. Nika also loves the feeling of being needed, it makes her just feel all warm and full because like... yes! You need her for something!

GIFT-GIVING

Oh my god, she loves to spoil you! And she does it with incredibly expensive things because she is a very bougie girl so she wants her baby to be just as (if not more) bougie as her!

It fulfills her in a way that's like the anticipation leading up to the moment when you unwrap the carefully chosen present awaiting your reaction. This love language is a tangible expression of her love for you. It's her way of showing how much you mean to her and how grateful she is to have you in her life.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#nika muhl x reader #nika muhl imagine #nika mühl #nika muhl #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #ncaaw #ncaa tournament #ncaa #ncaa women’s basketball #ncaa wbb #uconn wcbb #wcbb x reader #wcbb

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all-about-kyu · 9 months ago

Text

Summary: Xiaojun really wants to watch you get fucked by your best friend. Pairing: Xiaojun x fem!reader x Hendery Tropes: established relationship au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language Smut Warnings: light bondage with a belt, cuckholding, brief manhandling, fingering, dirty talk, protected sex, hair pulling, untouched male orgasm Word Count: 1,597 Host Tags: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye Before You Interact February Filth Masterlist

Listen to ♡ Fxxk You by KARD

“You’re sure you want this, Junnie?” You ask for the millionth time.

Xiaojun nods, “I want this. I know you and Hendery both do, too.”

You nod and kiss your husband deeply, “I love you.”

“I love you too, beautiful.” He smiles into the kiss.

When you mentioned finding your husband’s best friend hot offhandedly, you wanted nothing more than to let the ground swallow you. Then Xiaojun said he also found his friend attractive. That was a curve ball you hadn’t expected. What you couldn’t have anticipated was the suggestion that he came up with a moment later. Not only did your husband say he also found his friend hot, he also said he’d love to see his friend fuck you stupid. Your sex life with Xiaojun is more than enough. Still, the idea of being fucked by Hendery was appealing.

You and Xiaojun had a long talk about the logistics of it all before formally asking your friend to join you in the bedroom. When Xiaojun asked his best friend if he found you attractive, the other man looked like a deer caught in headlights. A light laugh escaping your lips seemed to ease the atmosphere. Hendery carefully nodded and said he found both of you attractive. Not only that, he also admitted that you were any bisexual person’s wet dream together.

Presently, you’re wrapped up in a silk robe that barely stops at your mid-thigh. Xiaojun is more dressed than you, not dressed up, but more covered. When a knock sounds on your front door, you watch how a sparkle shines in Xiaojun’s eyes. He’s just as excited to be nothing but a voyeur to you and his best friend as you are to fuck him. You remove yourself from your husband’s arms and waltz to the door. Pulling it open, you see Hendery wearing a comfy hoodie and sweatpants on the other side. The outfit mirrors that of your husband’s.

“Look at you, wrapped up like a pretty present.” Hendery muses.

You look away, slightly flustered by his comment, “Well, I have to look pretty before you fuck me.”

“And we’re all still game for this?”

The question is directed at your husband. You look back at Xiaojun and see a slight smirk dance across his face. Hendery, knowing his best friend, nods and wastes no time pulling you into a heated kiss. You make a small, surprised noise but quickly kiss him back. Hendery wraps his arms tightly around your waist. He walks forward, making you stumble backward a bit. Your eyes are closed. You don’t know where your husband is in the room, but you’re likely stumbling into the bedroom based on your orientation. The sound of a doorknob turning and the feeling of the back of your legs against your duvet only confirms your theory. You fall back on the mattress, and Hendery’s frame hovers over you as you continue to kiss.

For the first time since Hendery arrived, you get to come up for a proper breath. You watch as Hendery pushes himself off of you and stalks over to where your husband shifts in his spot. His sweatpants do nothing to hide his boner.

“Can you sit nice and watch me fuck your wife, or do I need to tie you up?”

You hear Xiaojun’s breath falter.

“I think I’ll need to be tied up.”

“Need to or want to?” The other man chuckles, pushing a finger against the underside of his jaw.

“Want to.” You hear your husband breathe out.

Hendery hums and grabs one of Xiaojun’s belts that was lying out. He guides your husband to strip all of his clothing off his body and kneel on the floor at the foot of your bed. Hendery carefully and safely binds Xiaojun’s wrists together in front of him. After ensuring that the other man isn’t in pain or too tightly bound, your friend returns to you. He grabs you by your waist and manhandles you onto your elbows and knees, your face mere inches from Xiaojun. It takes everything in you not to lean forward and capture your husband’s lips in another kiss.

“Where do you keep the condoms?”

“Dresser, top drawer.” You state simply.

Your eyes stay trained on Xiaojun’s even as you hear Hendery rooting through the drawer to find condoms. You feel the bed dip behind you, followed by the feeling of Hendery’s fingers running through your soaked folds. You still have your robe around you, but the fact that he can’t even be bothered to remove the one clothing item you have on makes you feel even more used in the best way possible.

Hendery pushes two fingers into you. Your eyebrows furrow together as you let out a moan. You still keep your eyes on Xiaojun as your friend fingers you. Hendery fucks his fingers into you for a bit, making you leak more arousal with each motion. You knew the entire encounter would be hot. Nothing could’ve prepared you for this, though.

“Do you even fuck your wife properly, Junnie?” Hendery questions, “She’s nearly falling apart on just my fingers.”

Xiaojun doesn’t respond. You can’t find it in yourself, either. Dropping your head forward, you let out another string of moans. You push your hips back, chasing the feeling of his long fingers inside you. Just as you feel your orgasm start to build, Hendery pulls his fingers from inside you. The bed shifts behind you, and you can hear the faint sound of fabric falling onto the bed. The telltale sign of foil ripping follows not long after. You gasp, feeling the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

“Want me to fuck you?” He breathes out, rubbing his cock head around your entrance.

“‘Dery, please!” You whine, wiggling your hips against him.

Xiaojun lets out a small whimper, making Hendery smirk behind you.

“Your wife wants me to fuck her, ‘Jun.” He reiterates, “Your wife wants to get fucked by another man.”

“She wants it.” Xiaojun confirms, “Give her what she wants.”

Hendery pushes into you. A broken moan escapes your lips. Your head falls forward onto the bed fully. Hendery reaches forward and unties the bow from around your waist. He then lets his hand travel higher and grab a handful of your hair. He pulls your head back, giving Xiaojun the perfect view of your fucked out expression and your tits bouncing as Hendery thrusts into you.

Your eyes travel down Xiaojun’s body. His cock is painfully hard and leaking. Still, he only watches with lust-fogged eyes as your friend fucks you stupid. A part of you could get used to having Hendery fuck you on the regular, even if you’re married to Xiaojun. Somewhere inside, you feel that Xiaojun and Hendery wouldn’t quite mind that either.

“You’re so fucking tight around me.” Hendery growls, “Is Junnie even fucking you?”

“‘Dery!” You moan, “Fuck! I’m gonna–”

“Already?”

You do your best to nod with his hold on your hair, “Wanna cum!”

Hendery chuckles, releasing your hair, “Your poor husband looks so desperate in front of us.” He notes, “Why don’t you go on and kiss him?”

Xiaojun’s eyes sparkly at the notion of finally getting some sort of attention. You crane your neck forward, a moan escaping as Hendery pushes a punctuated thrust into you. Xiaojun leans up to meet your lips. The moment you feel his plush, soft lips against yours, your orgasm hits you. Your pussy convulses around Hendery’s cock. Xiaojun quickly and easily swallows your moans. While Xiaojun isn’t getting any physical stimulation on his cock, he moans back into the kiss. Hendery is spewing filthy words into the room as he continues to thrust into you at a brutal pace. Xiaojun lets out a particularly loud, broken moan. You pull your lips from him for a moment to see that he came completely untouched. His cum paints his belly and wrists. The leather of the belt has cum on it too. The sight of Xiaojun riding out an orgasm without being touched almost sends you into a second orgasm.

Just as you’re about to dive into another kiss with your husband, Hendery retakes a handful of your hair and drags your body up against his. He turns your head towards his and captures your lips in a kiss. Your robe is completely open, and now Xiaojun has a relatively close view of how Hendery’s cock thrusts into you. Overstimulation starts to nip at you in a slightly painful way. You whimper into the kiss with Hendery, lightly biting his lip. Then, you feel Hendery still inside you. A low groan comes from his lips as he fills the condom.

He releases your body, and you nearly collapse against your bed. Weakly, you reach forward and undo the belt around Xiaojun’s wrists. Hendery busies himself with knotting off and throwing away the condom before returning to help you out of your robe fully. You’re enthralled in a deep kiss with your husband as Hendery removes the silk from your body. You hardly notice the slight throbbing in your pussy as Xiaojun starts to climb up the bed and on top of you. He still has his cum on his lower belly as he presses his body to yours, but you couldn't care less about the sensation right now.

“You have another round in you, my love?” He mumbles against your lips, “I need to show our guest here that I know damn well how to take care of my wife in bed.”

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @bratty-tingz @yeosangiess @minjaeluver @abbietwilight @wooyoungmybelovedhusband

#xiaojun smut #hendery smut #cultofdionysusnet #kwritersworldnet #kvanity #joongfryefff24 #nct fanfic #wayv fanfic #nct x reader #wayv x reader #nct smut #wayv smut #xiaojun fanfic #xiaojun x reader #hendery fanfic #hendery x reader

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penvisions · 5 months ago

Text

gone to the dogs {chapter 4}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x Reader ; brief mentions of Boston QZ! Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Summary: Unexpected glimpses of your past allow for your softer side to be exposed. But it won't be the thing that alters the dynamic between your trio. No, you have something else planned for that.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, age gap (only by about ten years), angst, dark fic, dark joel miller, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, degrading language, sexual language, sexual proposition, violence, heated interactions, descriptions of a minor assault, adult language, fighting, argumentative language, mutual disdain, sexual content, implication of sex work, unprotected piv, sexual acts, reader is snarky, reader gets violent, major injuries, dismemberment, reader meets joel toe-to-toe with insults and it's amazing, both reader and joel pov, lemme know if there are any i missed!

A/N: ARE Y'ALL READY, but seriously, i hope y'all enjoy this chapter *minor spoiler but reader's singing voice is very much akin to ruby leigh from the voice contestant show

ao3 link || series masterlist || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

It’s early morning, when Tess seeks you out. The sun barely coming up and showing its form over the horizon, the sky swathed in deep oranges and golden tones that remind you of seasonal fruit.

Frank is sitting with you already, coffee brewed fresh and sweetened with frozen ice cubes of coffee creamer and sugar. A surprise you hadn’t anticipated but greatly appreciated as the man beside you refilled your cup time after time to ensure it was never truly empty. Conversation had been light, on the back porch where you had curled up in the wicker loveseat to try and get the weight off of your body for a few hours.

As soon as she shuffled through the door, Frank removed his hand from where it was tangled with your own and said he would get started on breakfast. Wanting to ensure you, all three of you, had a full stomach for the journey back to the zone. His way of taking care of you where you’ll let him, even now in the end of the world.

“Look, I know it may seem like I was playing some game yesterday…” The older woman breaks the silence, knowing your mind must be turning and overturning the events of the last few days.

“Just wanted to know I was meant to be playing along.” She’s not cautious, but there’s a tiredness and stilted manner to her sitting down in one of the matching wicker chairs. The cushion and pillow in the seat do little to comfort the unease you can see in her body. It’s as if she hasn’t slept, or that her sleep was restless just like your own despite the safe environment and almost now foreign amenities.

“I was being genuine with them, Frank…he’s reminded me of who I used to be. As I’m sure he has with you, especially sharing a past I’m not going to ask after. It’s your business and that’s your prerogative.”

“Sent your guard dog after me to listen into my conversation with him, not sure I really believe the sentiment.”

“Cane, you know as well as I do that he does what he wants.”

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that he reports back to you. Acts as if you two are the ones who run things. Conversations I’m not a part of.”

“We all run things, the three of us.” You’re glad for her roundabout honesty, though you know that it’s natural for rifts to divide people, for them to seek out those they are more comfortable with. That talking with someone you feel bonded with, a partner, a friends, is a part of life. That they both must have conversations going over things just as you do with her, though not as frequently.

“Yeah, looks like it from the outside, doesn’t it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you two have gotten very comfortable with the way things are in the zone-“

“No more comfortable than you made yourself in my bed the other night.” Her eyes meet your own in a silent challenge, will you lie and cover up the fact you shared Joel’s bed, or will you be honest with the woman who does so on a regular basis. You don’t know Joel as well as she does, but he doesn’t strike you as the type to seek out attention or affection from other’s behind someone’s back. A cheater, he is not, though he has done many questionable things to survive. She doesn’t seem upset, at least outwardly, though you know it must strike a cord near her heart. The way you catch her gazing at him sometimes tells you more of her feelings than she ever has. And for that, you cannot fathom lying.

“That was a lapse of judgement. It had been a shitty day trying to move what little product I had. He didn’t fuck me if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“I don’t care if he did, that’s his prerogative. I don’t own him, I don’t control him-“

“Wouldn’t matter if you did, he needs to feel like he’s got someone to look out for and you’re it. He would do anything for you, does do anything that you ask of him now. It’s me he has a problem with and I’m not entirely sure why he laid with me the way he did.” You try to soothe her as best you can, as best as you’re able to in the situation. She must know what she means to him, or at least what he’s able to with the damage and destruction he’s surely endured.

“He doesn’t have a problem with you-“

“Save it, I know he does. I know you do too, blatantly throwing us under the bus to make us seem like untrained dogs who only snap and bite at those that near us.”

“That was more for him, than for you.”

“And yet you still said it the way you did. It wasn’t appreciated.”

“I didn’t intend for it to hurt your feelings, I apologize if it did. I really am…appreciative of the way you’ve allowed us both to fold into your zone.” It’s obvious, the appeal she’s trying to make to you now. The same woman who had been at the table yesterday. A glimpse of who she used to be, but it bothers you how you can’t tell if she’s genuine or not, if it’s the same play you had been orchestrating with her the past couple of months.

“You came into my home to try and get intel on me before usurping me. Of course you’re grateful I folded you into the scene. You wouldn’t have had anything otherwise.”

“Not nothing, no. But I do realize it would’ve been less if you were getting a portion of the cut of everything we got on both sides.”

You only hummed in response. Aware that this conversation was taking turns you’d rather not delve into at the moment.

“We’ve all gotten comfortable, me included, you’ve given me the room to do so. But I talked to Frankie, he’s willing to convince Bill to agree to it. You’ll lead this one, you did find it after all and there’s no reason for my knowing him to effect that.” You don’t have to fear for someone lunging at you in the dark, for someone using a trade as a rouse to lure you alone to take advantage. Her intelligence and Joel’s strength have allowed you breathing room in the months of constant worry after your brother’s death.

“Joel will need to really be on his best behavior. He’s got his teeth bared because Bill does.”

“Then reign him in.” You meet her eyes, the worry you house at the rise of conflict that is all too real aimed her way but ever present in the way you didn’t have to say anything else. She nods once as you lifted your mug up and took a sip of the wonderful coffee Frank had been kind enough to keep full. “Mind him and lead by example. I will as well.”

“He doesn’t think poorly of you, if he did, he wouldn’t be insistent on joining you beyond the walls.” It’s hard to know how to respond, it’s almost default to fling insults with the older man, to taunt him and see if he rises to the bait, something he does in return. But despite it all, you would defend him should he truly need it and you only hoped he would do the same. You doubt he would die for you, but that was such a rare devotion these days.

“I suppose not, but…should anything happen he will still work with you. He…Joel is someone who needs someone by his side whether he wants to admit it or not. Like you said. And you would be good for him, protect him as he protects you. It’s…good you were willing to work with us.” It’s implied, the connection you both have with the man even if it feels different, looks different. The way she wishes for you to recall that should something happen to her. Infection, sickness, a trade gone wrong, a trigger-happy soldier, anything. She wants to ensure he won’t be alone.

“I swear to you, should something happen, I won’t throw him to the crowd waiting to tear him apart.”

“Thank you.”

“Tess, just- I have a feeling the scene is going to get worse before it stabilizes again. The cartons of cigarettes Frank is going to give us will help but, other things are bound to dry up.”

She’s quiet for a beat, taking in the way you reach for your mug. She’s watching you as much as you’re watching her. It’s not a stalemate, it never is between you two. She knows your penchant for comments on how things are going, the ways your mind works and overworks. Concerned about details and the intricacies of things whereas she’s focused on the entire scene or play. It’s a match, which allows for all things to be considered, working well with each other in the past year. She has to be aware of that, at least, even as tensions rise and perspectives are beginning to warp and shift.

“Cane, this- opportunity to do trade with an outside source, it could help prevent scavenges into the decaying city. You know as well as I do that things are getting harder and harder to find as time goes on. Hell, it’s already beginning to thin.”

“It is…” You agree solemnly.

It’s when you’re in the shower again, before you change into the clothes you had showed up in, that Joel seeks you out. Now washed and dried, folded atop the counter waiting for you. The door opens and closes without the call of a voice but you can hear the distinct steps of Joel as he stand in the middle of the bathroom. Hear the way he’s breathing a little harder than normal. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when you hear the hush of fabric and see the outline of him through the plastic shower curtain move to pick up the dress you had been wearing.

“Dress was nice.” His voice is low, a quiet rumble that washes over your skin much like the shower, though goosebumps sprout up despite the heat of the water.

“I’m not in the mood for games, Miller.” Sighing, you reach for the shampoo, the scent of sandalwood and amber wafting in the steam that fills the room.

“I’m bein’ serious. Looked good on you. Different.” The effect his words on you, his attempt at an actual conversation is one of heat blooming in your middle. He’s so goddamn handsome and it’s a shame he’s such an asshole, molded by the circumstances of the fallen world. He seems to take your words in stride, his mood nothing but calm as the shower continues to rain down on you.

“Everything seems to be different these days.”

“Can be a good thing, sometimes.”

“Can be.” You watch through the clear curtain, dappled with beaded water. He’s shrugging out of his dark green button up. The fabric hushing as it reveals his skin to you for the second time. His chest is dusted with dark hairs, the silver threading through it catching the sunlight filtering into the bathroom.

“Don’t mind, do you?” The clink of his belt and the unzipping of his pants.

“Not particularly, no.” He’s already stepping into the stall, his broad body taking up what little room was left and crowded the space. But it doesn’t feel like he’s cornering you, it feels almost…intimate in the way that his eyes are taking in the form of your body slick from the water and foamed up bubbles trailing down where they drip from your hair. “Just didn’t think you’d be the one to seek me out next.”

Tangling his fingers into your hair, he dips your head back to wash the shampoo from the long tresses.

“There was no need for me to be so…biting last night. I don’t know how to do the whole- talking thing these days. And you have to admit, we don’t do much of that with each other already.”

“They’ll work with us, Frankie is a good man.” You reach for the shampoo again, reaching up with the thick liquid cupped in your hand to lather it into his bowed head. His hair is as soft as you always thought it was, thick curls dark with the weight of the water saturating it.

“Sharing a past with him helps, otherwise it would be a tense and slow start.” His hands are anchored on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as you don’t dare to look down where you feel him soft against your thigh. The admittance of presence helping isn’t lost on you. He’s not one for praise and it’s intense with how close you are in the stall. You hear the apology for his previous words on the matter in his new ones. Though you are unsure if he believes them, you feel the need to but it is hard to tell as his skin touches yours and ignites your blood. “Tess may have set this whole thing up and he may have convinced Bill for the trades, but you are an asset.”

You hold your tongue, the question of ‘an asset or the orchestrator’ drowning from your mind as he noses along your collarbone, ducking his head further to allow you to wash the suds from his curls. As soon as he looks back up, you’re reaching to brush the water from his eyes, his brows, his scruff, watching the way it sticks to his silver threaded hairs and the memory of it against your skin makes pleasure and desire pool in your core.

His hands are turning your willing body around, and he’s firm where he bumps against the back of your thighs, the plush of your ass as you face the wall. And now you feel crowded, as he presses his front to your back, the way he hinges your hips to meet him, for the way he slips into you in one smooth motion for the first time.

But it’s not a bad feeling, it’s comforting being shielded from the rest of the world in this little stall, his body hiding you away and comforting you all at once. It’s a dangerous thought, even as it’s punched out with your heavy breath carrying a moan as he begins to thrust against you. Heat overtakes your senses, from the pleasure rippling through you to the flushed skin pressed to you to the still running stream of the shower. It consumes you even after you peak, after you feel Joel’s own sear into the backs of your thighs, panting breath matched by him as the moment winds down.

“You didn’t tell him your brother wasn’t alive. Just told him you found him.” He breathes into your shoulder, facial hair brushing over your skin to send tingles down your spine. It’s quiet, the way he seeks an answer instead of demands one.

“He doesn’t need to know.” Is your own whispered response, unable to rise to his words with a truth of your own, a vulnerability.

“Thought he was your friend.”

“He is, but he’s…he doesn’t need to know how things really are. He wouldn’t have let me leave.”

“You say that like he has control over you.” His hands are no longer gripping tight, caressing instead along your sides, feeling the dips and valleys of your body with no intention other than to touch. The urge to return the softness twitches your fingers where they are still planted along the wall for support.

“He doesn’t. But if he asked, I would listen. Because I respect him. Mutual respect.”

He parrots the sentiment back to you, as his large hands grip your waist once again to turn you around face to face. There’s something glinting in his eyes, behind the dark brown of them slowly. “An interesting thought.”

“It is.” You nudge your nose against his, breathing him in, the scent of you both mingling in the air.

And he’s suddenly slotting his mouth against yours, droplets raining down over you both as you surge up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, returning his kiss with earnest. It’s so different from what yo expected kissing him would be life, it’s not rough or biting, it’s almost heartachingly soft in how he pulls you close and touches his lips to yours again and again.

“He’s just so hard to read sometimes, you know? Like…I don’t mean to get too personal considering we just met but,” Tess’s voice carries from a room downstairs, the one you had been given the night before, the one you hadn’t been able to lay in and remain for the entirety of it. She had ducked into it with Frank after breakfast shared at the dining room table. While the eggs had been powdered, the meet hadn’t been and the taste lingers, mingled with that of Joel.

“You can talk to me about anything, the same sentiment for Cane applies to you. We all need friends these days, people we can turn to.” Frank’s comforting voice is genuine as you step closer to the open door without trying to alert them of your presence. Tess hardly opened up about herself, let along about the dynamic between her and Joel. All you ever got out of Tommy was that they were bonded in a way that he understood, shared losses, shared pasts. They would and have killed for each other.

“Well, I’m not quite sure what’s going on, relationships were hard enough before and now…”

“It’s hard for men like Bill and Joel to be honest with what they want, to let their guard down in different settings. You shouldn’t fault yourself if he was too on edge to be with you last night.”

“It’s not that exactly. It was more like he implied he was done with that entire part of…whatever we are.”

“Maybe he’s going through something he hasn’t told you about. He seems like a pretty private guy even if he does have someone like you to talk to and in his life.” Mind reeling, you recall the way Joel had spoken to you the other night. The implication of his words, of his wants, of who exactly he had his eyes on. And then this morning when he had all but rolled over to show you his willingness to give you credit and praise your work.

‘Don’t want Tess.’

‘Mutual relief.’

‘Then clear my head, be a good little lap dog for me.’

Your blood boils, bubbles thick in your veins despite the rather calm and sensual acts you had just shared with the man in question. The worry of him moving on from the woman at his side to yours, where there is more opportunity, more to be gained, more power to be had with the smuggling scene. It’s hard to read him, whether he is truly making a play, a switch. The idea that he is losing interest in Tess in favor or you too big a notion for there to not be anything else woven into the desire. Men tended to seek out those younger than them, though you didn’t think that was the only matter in this case. The thought sticks to the inside of your throat like fuzz, drying it up and making you clear your throat loudly as you approach the doorway head on. You’re determined to undermine it, should that be the reasoning behind his recent behavior.

“Frankie?” You finally step toward the doorway, brushing your hands down over the clean shirt to try and calm your nerves.

“Yes, darling?”

“Could I use your radio, there’s a call I need to make. To set up a smooth return to the zone for us.” You nod to Tess, who doesn’t meet your eyes. As Frank stands from where he was seated on the bed, he brushes a hand over your shoulder. He’s reaching for another box from the top of the closet, the shelf too high for you but easy enough for him. The box is labeled with your name, the real one and he takes a marker from his back pocket and crosses it out. Cane replaces it in that same, simple writing he’s adapted.

“Of course, I’m looking for something, but Bill can help you out.” Frank smiles at you, saying he’ll make sure to send an outfit back with all three of you, worried for the very real act of both Joel and Tess scrounging for their nicest pieces of clothing for the visit. First impressions still meant so much and sometimes it meant the difference between life and death these days. He was a good man, and you’re determined to ensure you can continue to find things he may need use of and build up your stocks should you need to trade for something far more valuable and harder to come by. He was a priority now.

One thing was for certain, you were done allowing Joel Miller to think he had more power than he did.

An asset.

It rings through your mind as you recall the way he approached you in the shower. In the touches burned into your skin, in the way his body moved against your own. He had been there, with you, after telling Tess no. That he didn’t want for the physical any longer with her and it’s dizzying. Trepidation simmers low in your abdomen, upsetting it as it twists the muscles and pulls them taut before they tremble. Akin to the pang of hunger but much, much stronger.

It was your zone, your connections, your reputation that allowed for the smuggling and scavenging to bloom opportunity and trade. You had worked up from literally nothing, having been forced into the zone under false pretenses. The network established by you and your brother after some time, scooped up by the jaws of another hungry dog searching for the next meal to feast on. Only this one wasn’t a simple meal that would fill your belly for a night, it was one that would bring meals day after day and you were done sharing it. Done feeling like an afterthought to the man who was Tess’s counterpart.

The radio is far more advanced than the one set up in the zone, the one that Abe was lucky enough to set up outdated and one of the more military focused models. The soldiers knew he had it, it was hard no to squash the thin string of hope it allowed for all the occupants to stoke as they tried to search for loved ones and family even so long after that first horrific day and all the others that followed.

Bill walked you through how to navigate the signal waves, how to tune it just right to get the ones wafting weakly from direction of the zone. He was still on guard, the gun holstered at his side and his gauging eyes still present. But you felt at ease with him, he was an extension of Frank. He was a good man, that much you were sure of, that much you knew. Frank would be well protected and provided for here, allowed a space to cling to the good parts of who he is. He wouldn’t have lasted in the zone, let alone the pretenses in which you had found yourself able to enter the zone.

“Echo 4236, do you copy?”

“Copy for Echo 4236. Rely your message.”

“This is Ammo 1342, I have an order for you.”

“Ready to receive order, proceed.”

“I need you to hit Building 42, Apartment 19 and 20.”

“Ammo 1342, isn’t apartment 20-“

“It is, proceed. Stash the contents in Building 56, Apartment 14.”

“Copy that Ammo 1342.”

“Echo 4236 signing off.”

Bill is watching you closely, one brow arched as he takes in the smirk on your lips.

“Working together means you guys contact Tess, heed her wills to trade.”

“So, you’re allowing them to think this is still the fruits of her labor.”

“For now. When the time comes, I’ll cut them out and let them be in charge of this trade and only this trade.”

"Just be careful." The sentiment behind his words is not lost on you.

“Before you go,” Frank is guiding you by the shoulders toward the front room the second you visible coming up from the steps of the sub-basement. Bill following behind at a slower pace, content to let Frank do as he wished, the barely contained excitement and sly smile on his lips telling the other man he was happy. The piano comes into view, set up already, dusted off and smelling of lemon oil cleaner.

“Frankie, no.” You don’t even give the man a chance to say anything, the book of sheet music open and waiting.

“Cane, please. It’s been so long since I’ve heard it done justice. Bill does his best, but…too low a tone for the song. This’ll be the last thing I ask of you to recall from our past and if you truly don’t want to, I’ll concede.” As he speaks, the others are walking into the room. Bill, followed by a curious Tess and tense Joel. The word ‘no’ in your voice summoning him where he had been on the back porch with Tess talking over the most likely items to get on the list Frank had written up.

You looked from the piano to him, trepidation obvious, as if the piano were a coiled snake waiting for you to step closer to strike you down. But he looked so soft, so much like the man you remember sitting and painting with for hours in a comfortable silence, the one who had always allowed you the room to create how you wanted.

“Just this once.”

The wooden seat is firm beneath you, and you roll your shoulders a few times, cracking your knuckles to loosen your body up. Taking a deep breath, you glance up from where your hands are hovering over the keys to the music written out. You don’t need it, of course, it was Frank’s favorite song. One you had sung to him at every opening hour of a show in the gallery. The first few pushes of the keys feel unfamiliar, but muscle memory takes over quickly and you’re licking at your bottom lip before parting them.

“Love will abide, take things in stride,” Your voice is smooth and soft, growing emotive and soulful, as it fills the silence of the room and intertwines with the notes of the piano. A hint of twang in your tone as the lyrics pull it from deep inside you, where you buried it long ago. You close your eyes, feeling the sting of tears as the last seven years flash in your mind.

“Sounds like good advice,” You belt out, pitching your voice around the words, allowing for them to surge and swell. “But there’s no one at my side. Cause I’ve done everything I know to try and make you mine. And I think I’m gonna love you for a long, long time.”

You don’t dare to turn around and glimpse the expressions on everyone’s faces, the song filling you up with something you had long forgotten. Your voice carries through the second verse, the third, and then the last cords of the song are echoing in the air as you lift your fingers from the keys. The final note wavering off and silence reclaims the room.

It’s the last thing before you all make your way outside, the sun bright and the breeze cool. Bill is walking alongside Joel, Tess up ahead with Frank. You linger, eyeing the canvas and paint accumulated in boxes around the porch. An agreement made between to the two men who reside here. One giving into the other’s indulgences in only the way a loved one does for their affections.

Rationale and reason for keeping such things for better uses, a means of survival should it come to that lost in the wake of making someone happy.

“Cane, I’m- I’m just so glad that you’re okay.” Frank is suddenly pulling you into an embrace, his hands cradling the back of your head as you instantly return it. His chest is warm where you bury your face into his shirt, just feeling him for a moment, basking in the touch of another you once spent so much time with. “Please, don’t be a stranger. I may not be able to come to you, but you come to me or radio should you need anything.”

“I’m happy you’ve found your person, found a little slice of what life used to be here. The zones, they aren’t, they aren’t a way to live.” As you pull back from him, you see the question in the depths of his eyes, obviously in the way he smiles sadly at you. He wants to ask you to stay and you almost want him to.

Your trio departs with a plan to contact in a week’s time, to set up the first trade of many.

It was obvious that your order had been followed through the second your trio had entered turned from the stairwell to the hallway. The doors leading into both yours and their apartment hang on their hinges, the wood splintered slightly as they wight down the remaining nails keeping them upright.

The second story just high enough to not give any clues away from the view of the windows on the streets. You had made sure to not include your signature of a paw print, not wanting to stir up trouble before felt the need to. The same one you had Tess and Joel stamp onto their portions of goods, always beneath the foil for cigarettes or the plastic bags of pills. Especially on the butts of guns save for the ones you all carried yourselves.

“Fuck, looks like we got hit!” Tess is caught off guard, rushing forward until Joel stops here with a forearm and a small shake of his head. He moves up ahead of you both, the gun tucked into the back of his waistband sliding into his palm as he pushes aside what remains of the doors to the two apartments you occupy.

“They got everything we had stashed away.” His voice is a low rumble, anger and frustration filling the picked over and damaged apartment. He’s already cleared it as you and Tess approach, moving onto yours to clear it as well.

“This is because you showed weakness by working in that whore house!” Joel roars, dark glare focused on you as he appears back in the hallway. A shove of his gun barrel against your shoulder raises your lips in a snarl of argument.

“What I do in my spare time has no effect on the business!”

“It does it people think you’re weak, submitting to them!” He digs the gun into your shoulder again, to punctuate his words.

“Then everyone would be going after you, with how obvious it is you drown yourself in pills and booze until you pass out every god damn night!” You smack the weapon away from you with enough force that he doesn’t do it again, instead it’s hidden back in his waistband. He’s anything but calm as he shouts back at you, no doubt the entire population of the hall is listening against their closed doors.

“That has nothing to do with anything!”

“Then neither does my sparse visits to work somewhere that actually puts food on the table! The people we trade with don’t go there.” You step up into his personal space, the tension in the air thick and so unlike the last time you had done so. His eyes narrow, the brown of then shielded by the darkness of his pupils and the dim hall. The lights have been needing to be replaced for ages, your men following orders taking out the few that had remained working to make the scene.

“If they don’t, then the people that work for them do and tell them.” He doesn’t back down, his chest nearly brushing yours as he breaths in deep.

“Alright, why don’t- why don’t we all just take a breath. We had a good past couple of days, we can’t let this bring us down.” Tess is suddenly between you both, a hand on each of you to further push you apart. But you’re done. Tired and feeling too much after seeing someone who you never thought you would again mentally draining. You’re stepping around them both, their eyes heavy as they watch you walk over to your door.

“Oh, I’m not down about anything. Shit happens. Sometime tried to clean me out the second I took over the zone, it’s part of the game.” With that, you manage to shut the door as best you could.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, was wondering if somebody finally put you down?” The hair on the back of your neck rises as your skin prickles. You knew someone had been following you but you hadn’t expected it to be the man you last laid with the day Joel had caught you nearly two weeks ago. He was never one for conflict or conversation, but today he seemed willing to partake in both.

“Not that I owe you an answer, but I was busy.” Your eyes trace the way he reveals himself from the stooped doorway, the building is abandoned and boarded up. Deemed toxic due to the damage of fumes from the bombing that is evident just outside the walls.

This part of the zone is dilapidated, most of the buildings had been homes or independently owned and run businesses, but now it was the slums. The pleasure house is only a street away but that hadn’t been your intention of coming down here. It had been to retrieve some of the goods ‘stolen’ from you, stashed in an old building very few knew operated as a base for soldiers to reside in for their drug fueled days off from patrol.

“Feel like you owe me a freebie.” He’s bold to step in front of you in that moment, the street empty at the hour that closes the day in the zone.

“Not on your life.” Sidestepping him, you don’t expect him to reach out. He’s strong, his hands clasping in front of you as his front presses against your back. He’s overly hot, the scent coming from his clothes rotten and you thrash in his hold.

“Get her gun!” He’s shouting and you realize he’s not alone. There are four others now surrounding you, having slunk out of the shadows and alleyways. Someone makes a grab for it, where it’s holstered on your hip beneath your shirt. The fingers that graze your stomach are marred with ash and dirt, something you hope isn’t smeared into your skin. The man isn’t very focused, his eyes dipping to catch the flash of skin as he does so and you kick out at his hand.

The gun is knocked away from you the second it hits the broken asphalt of the street, the only weapon left on you is the knife tucked into your boot. But your thoughts are scrambled as your sense of gravity wavers, body suddenly pulled forward. Your forehead knocks into the ground, and you groan out at the feeling of rubble digging deep into the skin there.

“You fuckers!” You shout, hands reaching for the concealed blade as you feel a body pin you down. You don’t manage much as they’re suddenly held down, as are your legs. The feeling of the man above you and four more holding you down kicks your instincts into overdrive.

Surging up as best you can, you knock your head back as hard as possible. The crack of it hitting the man’s face is loud as is his cry of pain. He’s knocked off balance and into the two men holding your legs down.

Careening forward, you bite into the hand of the person putting their weight on your hands, teeth digging and tearing as he tries to pull away with a scream. He’s down and cradling his mutilated hand as you stand and brandish the knife you’ve finally got in your grip. Spitting, chunks of bloodies flesh spray onto the ground and you wipe the back of your free hand over your mouth, only managing to smear the blood further.

It slices into the skin of forearms and cheeks as the three men try to get you pinned back down and under their control with their ringleader tries to stall the bleeding of his broken nose and the whitening of his vision.

The man whose hand you bit reaches for the gun and he fires a shot that has everyone ducking. His aim had failed to help his friends but worked to your advantage as one of the men cries out at the bullet now lodged in his shoulder. The scene freezes, everyone completely caught off guard and you take the moment.

You’re reaching for the gun as he sits shocked and still, the metal rattling from how badly he’s shaking. Quickly forcing it from him and aiming it point blank, he’s slumped over and no longer breathing as you round on the others and fire three more shots.

The man who started all this is pleading, snot and tears running along with blood down his face. He’s spouting nonsense words of apology and to please spare him, that he’s learned his place and he won’t ever try to corner you again. But you don’t care. This man, this piece of nothing man had tried to track you down, to take from you, to assault you, to demean you. The knife in your hand sings for more blood but you’re shooting at him where he stands hunched over and holding a hand over his face.

He falls, hands flying to where his thighs meet his body as he whimpers. The pain of being shot in the groin too intense for him to muster up a scream. You feel a twitch of your lips as you watch him writhe and moan about on the ground, surrounded by the other men. But it’s not enough to soothe you and you’re bringing the knife down harshly as he reaches out to you for help he would never receive. His fingers scatter, and you feel the ease of your anger.

“Don’t come at me again or I’ll take your life too.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Telling them to make payments to you but I still have to go and deliver the goods? Do you have any idea what that makes me look like?” Joel’s voice is loud as his door creaks open, not completely repaired but enough to work for the time being. Something about him needing to find a certain type of glue for wood before he would complete the task.

“Excuse me?” If the blood staining your clothing or the tangled mess of your loosened hair catches his eye he doesn’t show it. Not even the cut above your brow or the stain of blood around your mouth and chin gives him pause and you realize he’s drunk from that and the loosely coordinated way he approaches you.

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to but now is so not the time, Miller.” You warn, adrenaline still coursing through your body and making you shift on your feet to face him. His steps are loud, the effects of whatever he took showing.

“You listen to me, you little-“

You use the arm he reaches out to grab at you and haul him over your shoulder. The breath in his lungs wooshes out at the contact of his back hitting the floor hard. Before he even has the chance to realize he’s been downed, you’re straddling his stomach and holding the still bloody knife to his throat. He’s more aware of himself as you meet his eyes, the pressure of the blade sobering him up almost instantly.

“You wanna see how I left him, you wanna see what I looked like putting the last fucker down that dared to come after me. Dared to put his hands on me when I said no. Bleeding in the street without his fingers or his dick?” The thump of the man’s detached fingers onto his chest pull his eyes down and away from your own. They widen slightly at the sight of them, the white of the bones you severed stark in the fixed light of the hall. “Try me, Miller, try me and find the fuck out.”

He’s silent, eyes wide and mouth clamped shut. Chest heaving as he takes in the way you’re completely serious and focused on him. The knee you’re digging into his crotch painful for the force behind it and you see fear flash in his eyes. You take it in stride, feeling far more powerful than you had in months.

“That’s what I thought, go sleep off the pills you downed and report back to me tomorrow with payment or replacement.” He grunts as you shove off of him, his body stinging where yours had been on him, his neck feels cool where a few drops of blood form on the shallow cut where the knife had been.

The door shuts behind you, lock clicking in place. He stays there on the ground, heart beating wildly in his chest and his eyes take in the cut off extremities you had thrown at him where they had slid to the floor of the hall. His stomach lurches at the thought of the other one you had mentioned and he’s surging up to empty his stomach onto the faded and worn carpet.

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@survivingandenduring *shoutout to @the-mandawhor1an for beta reading and @joelmillerisapunk for letting me scream with them while this chapter got finished and edited, thank you so much bbs!

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kingofbodyrolls · 1 year ago

Text

Friendcation (m) | myg | four

It’s the last weeks of the vacation being just you and Yoongi, and you’re going to savor every last bit of it. You do some hiking, relaxing and discover new sides to yourself that you didn’t know existed.

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Other characters: Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin. → Genre/AU: best friends to friends with benefits to lovers, non idol!au, camping!au, roadtrip!au, mechanic!Yoongi, humor, slight angst, smut and fluff → 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 🌸 → Status: completed! → Word Count: 17,7K (wooops!) → Warnings: smut; exhibitionism, voyeurism, period sex (period blood, but not in too much detail), period cramps, protected sex, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), handjob, nipple/breast play. → Author’s note: I’m sorry this took longer to post than the previous chapters 🙇 And I’m currently still outlining ch 5 🫥 Moving is harder than anticipated, but we are almost completely settled in, and I began writing again yesterday, so that’s good 🙂It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there.

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

The calendar has ticked its way to the end of August, but Mother Nature seemed to be playing a capricious game with the weather. Just when you thought the days would be getting cooler, a sweltering heat wave envelopes the surroundings, and the sun bears down with relentless intensity. It was as though the weather had a mischievous mind of its own, teasingly extending the summer season.

The unforgiving heat was taking its toll on you. Your body, once energized by the adventures of summer, now ached from the relentless rays and the humidity that clung to your skin.

Agony surges through you, and an involuntary whimper escaping your lips, “Fuck it hurts!”

Clutching your stomach, you feel utterly helpless, as if the pain has taken control of your very being. Yoongi’s concerned gaze never left your face, and you can see the worry etched in his features.

In that moment, his presence was a balm to your suffering. He leans in closer, his hand moving to stroke your hips in a soothing, rhythmic motion. His voice, a gentle murmur, reaching your ears like a lifeline in the darkness of your pain.

“Can I do anything to help?”

He asked, his eyes searching yours, as if willing your agony to ebb away. It was a simple question, but in that moment, it held the power to offer you some respite from the torment.

Your frustration knew no bounds as you cursed your forgetfulness. It was a recurring issue, the way your period always seemed to sneak up on you when you least expected it, catching you off guard. The fact that you had irregular periods only added to the challenge, and this time, it had left you utterly unprepared.

In the midst of your aggravation, you realize you have forgotten to pack any pads or even tampons. Panic starts to creep in as you consider the inconvenience of the situation. It’s a moment that made you wish you had been more vigilant and prepared for this inevitable occurrence.

Your voice, tinged with frustration, anger, and the ache of cramps, sounds like a desperate plea as you confess, “I forgot to pack pads and pain meds.”

Your words hang heavily in the air, a stark reminder of your discomfort. In that moment, his eyes soften with genuine concern. He can see the pain etched across your face, and it pains him too, knowing he can’t bear the discomfort for you.

“I can get those for you,” he offers earnestly, his desire to help you clear in his eyes. He can’t stand to see you in such distress; it tugs at his heartstrings.

“You don’t have to, Yoongi,” you insist, your voice trembling slightly as you inhale sharply, a fresh wave of cramps seizing your body.

Despite your attempt to maintain your independence, you can’t hide the pain in your voice. It was clear that you were struggling, and he couldn’t stand by and do nothing while you suffered. Your words are laced with concern as Yoongi gazes at you, his eyes reflecting his genuine worry. Seeing you in such pain was breaking his heart, and he wanted nothing more than to alleviate your suffering.

“I know you can do it yourself,” he begins, his voice filled with tenderness, “but please, let me take care of you, babe. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

His genuine desire to help you was evident in his eyes and in the way his hand continued to gently stroke your hip in a soothing manner.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you relent, feeling grateful for Yoongi’s caring nature. “Okay, thank you,” you whisper, realizing that sometimes, accepting help was a way to strengthen your friendship, and in this moment, it means the world to you.

With a tender nod, Yoongi steps out of the van.

“Okay. I’ll be back in an hour or so,” he reassures you, genuine concern still etched across his features. “I hope the pain won’t get worse,” he adds softly before closing the door behind him, leaving you in the temporary solitude of Holly.

Yoongi walks to the nearest store, the warm sun beating down on him during the 20-minute stroll in the early afternoon. Upon entering, he makes a beeline for the section with sanitary products and picks up some pads. As he stands there, he wonders if you use tampons but decides against them.

Then, an idea crosses his mind. He grabs his phone and texts his sister, seeking advice on what other items would be helpful for a woman on her period.

Yoongi [15:35]: I need your help, big sis 🆘

Sis [15:37]: What do you need help with? 😏

Yoongi [15:40]: ___ is on her period, bad cramps. I’m buying her pads and meds. Should I get her something else? What do women want on their period? 🤷

Sis [15:44]: Omg. You are the sweetest! 🥹 Buy her some dark chocolate and chips, I’m sure she’ll appreciate that. I’ll swing by with dinner for you two later 😉

Yoongi swiftly collects the items his sister suggested and makes his way back to the van, a sense of urgency and care propelling his every step.

As Yoongi returns, your face lights up with a mixture of gratitude and relief as you take in the thoughtful array of items he’s brought.

“Wow, you didn’t have to get all that, Yoongi. Thank you so much,” you exclaim with genuine appreciation, reaching eagerly for the chocolate he purchased.

Yoongi offers you the rest of the items he bought, mentioning his sister’s involvement.

You raise an eyebrow in surprise and then burst into laughter at his confession. “You actually told her I was on my period?” you chuckle, finding the situation rather amusing. He nods, a bit apprehensive, and adds, “She’s coming by later with dinner for us.”

You respond with a contented nod, “She’s a thoughtful sister; I wish I had one like her.” You reach for one of the packs of pads, appreciating both Yoongi’s and his sister’s considerate gestures.

You dig into one of your bags and retrieve a fresh pair of panties, relieved to replace the ones you’re currently wearing, which have become uncomfortably soaked — and definitely not with the kind of fluid you prefer.

As Yoongi’s sister arrives, the tantalizing aroma of the food nearly drives you to drool, and you can’t thank her enough for the comforting, warm meal. While you enjoy the delicious dishes in the comfort of your bed, Yoongi takes a seat outside on one of the stools.

“You know what can really help with those cramps?” Yoongi’s sister inquires, her eyes filled with genuine concern. Exhausted from the pain and with the medication not having taken effect yet, you simply shake your head without giving it much thought.

“Sex.”

She smirks, deliberately saying it loud enough for Yoongi to overhear, then winks at you. Your face flushes crimson, because yes, you’ve considered that option. You’ve even attempted it before in your early twenties, and remember that it can get incredibly messy.

Yoongi, sitting just outside the van, lets out an audible groan. “Aish, don’t say that,” he grumbles, clearly uncomfortable with his sister’s candid remarks. Her teasing seems to have gotten under his skin.

“I’m serious. It helps!” she insists, her tone filled with confidence as she tries to emphasize her point.

“Omg, I don’t want to imagine that,” Yoongi groans again, feigning agony. “I think the pregnancy is making you... horny,” Yoongi adds with a chuckle.

“True,” she breathes out, her chuckle playful. “But I’ve seen the way you two look at each other,” she continues, her gaze shifting from you to Yoongi. You blush and smile, while Yoongi just shrugs, a faint blush tingeing his cheeks.

“God! Something has already happened!”

She shrieks with delight and jumps out of the van to playfully shove Yoongi on his shoulder. “Don’t mess it up, I like her,” she says with a teasing grin, her eyes warm with affection.

“I’ll leave you two alone then,” she smiles and winks at Yoongi. You catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes at her, but it’s clear their sibling bond is filled with affectionate banter that warms your heart.

As you lie together, wrapped in his comforting embrace, his hand gently caressing your hair and resting on your tummy, your thoughts begin to race. The warmth of his body pressed against yours stirs desire within you, and your mind inevitably wanders to thoughts of intimacy with him.

With your bodies pressed closely together, you can’t help but let your desire take over.

You subtly grind your hips against his, eliciting a low groan from him. His grip on your hip tightens as he buries his head in your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. You turn to face him, your eyes locking with his as you broach the topic of period sex.

“How do you feel about period sex, like your sister suggested?”

You ask, searching his gaze for a sign of his willingness. He groans softly, his fingers tightening their hold on your hip. “Babe, please don’t mention my sister and sex in the same sentence,” he responds with a chuckle. “My boner will go away if you do that.”

As you press into him, you can feel his arousal growing against your back, and it sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

You playfully tease him, asking for his thoughts on the matter, and he responds with affectionate reassurance. “If you think it’ll help with the pain, sure,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your neck with tenderness, “I’d never say no to you, sweetheart.”

With a mischievous smile, you express your eagerness, “It will definitely give me something else to focus on.” You continue to search his eyes, your own filled with desire, and then you turn your body fully around to face him, closing the distance between you.

Your kiss is filled with fervor, driven by the anticipation of his touch and the idea of him fucking you in a moment, despite the messiness that may follow. The intensity between you two deepens with each passing second, as you both succumb to your passionate desires.

Your fingers trace the outline of his already throbbing dick through the fabric of his sweatpants, coaxing a delicious, guttural moan to escape his lips. The sensation of his heat and hardness in your hand ignites a thrilling craving within you, intensifying the desire that courses through your veins.

With eager anticipation, you seize the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging them down along with his boxers, revealing his taut cock. It springs free, proudly standing at attention, and your eyes gleam with hunger as you wet your lips in anticipation.

Casting his discarded garments to the floor, you then gracefully lower yourself to your knees, positioning yourself before him, ready to devour him.

His longing gaze locks onto yours, aflame with desire, and he leans in to capture your lips in a tender, yearning kiss.

As your mouths meld together, your hand instinctively finds its way to his dick, your fingers enveloping it in a sensual caress.

His moans of pleasure reverberate through your mouth, a symphony of desire that resonates deep within you. The intoxicating sounds he makes serve as a powerful aphrodisiac, stoking the flames of your desire.

With a few more tantalizing strokes, you draw your lips away from his, leaving a trail of burning kisses along his clothed chest and abdomen.

Moving gracefully, you position yourself on all fours above his throbbing length, the air charged with anticipation. His eyes are locked on you, dark with desire, his breaths growing more ragged with each passing second.

You gaze up at him, your sultry eyes locking onto his, a mischievous glint dancing within them.

“You know,” you purr, your voice dripping with desire, “you have a very beautiful dick.”

You tease him, letting your tongue playfully out between your lips. Your warm, wet tongue glides sensually from the base of his pulsating cock to the very tip, capturing the glistening bead of precum that had formed there.

The taste and sensation of your tongue against his sensitive flesh sends shivers of pleasure sourcing through his body, and a low, guttural moan escapes his lips.

He inhales sharply, a hiss escaping his lips, as you continue to tease and tantalize his dick with your skilled tongue.

His head falls back slightly, his eyes squeezed shut, and his grip on the bed sheets tightens. A deep, sultry moan reverberates through the van, filling the air with the heady scent of desire and lust.

Your every movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through him, and he’s utterly captivated by the sensations you’re evoking.

You continue to work your magic, your mouth finally enveloping him with a voracious hunger that leaves him trembling.

His fingers tangle in your hair, a mixture of gentle guidance and unbridled passion, as he can’t help but lose himself in the exquisite sensations coursing through him. Every wet, sultry suck sends waves of pleasure rippling down his spine, and he finds himself already teetering on the edge.

His breath hitches, his hips instinctively shifting to meet your mouth, as he moans your name in a fervent plea for more.

As you maintain your relentless rhythm, the urgency in the van heightens. Your hand expertly complements the actions of your mouth, ensuring that no inch of his dick goes unattended. You can feel his breath hitching, his muscles tensing beneath your touch.

The way his head falls back, exposing the long line of his throat, his half-lidded eyes, lost in a daze of pure pleasure, and the soft sinful sounds escaping his lips fuel your determination to bring him all the pleasure you can.

It spurs you on, and you relax your throat, as you go all the way down, taking as much of him into your mouth as you can. Then you hold still and breathe in through your nose, as you hollow your cheeks.

“Fuck,” Yoongi moans as he closes his eyes for a moment.

Once more, you go back up, and down again, your movement in rhythm with the slurping noises that fill the van. As the intoxicating sounds envelop you, you can feel a flood of arousal pooling between your legs, your initial cramps now a distant memory.

Saliva glistens at the corner of your mouth, tracing a sensual path down his shaft to his balls. Yoongi’s gentle hand cups your cheek, his voice a passionate whisper, “You’re doing perfectly, babe,” he confesses, his desire palpable.

“But I’m close, I want to fuck you now.” His touch tenderly lifts your face to his, claiming your lips in a fervent kiss, the taste of himself evident.

With a smoldering intensity still in your eyes, you gasp for breath, your voice a sultry whisper, “Do you have any dark towels?” Yoongi nods, his understanding swift as he retrieves a stack of dark towels and a packet of condoms from one of the cabinets, anticipation lingering thick in the air.

With a silent and fervent agreement, Yoongi gestures for you to shift, giving him space to prepare. He deftly lays one of the dark towels on the bed, his movements quick and precise, while he casually tosses the other one within arm’s reach.

“Come here,” his voice is a seductive murmur, and his lips capture yours once more.

“Let me ease your pain.”

His breathy words send shivers down your spine, igniting an irresistible craving that drowns out any trace of discomfort.

With every piece of clothing that falls to the floor, the anticipation in the van builds like a crescendo. He undresses you slowly, savoring the unveiling of your body, and his gaze, filled with raw desire, leaves no doubt about his intentions.

As he sheds his own shirt and gently lowers you onto the towel, the air becomes electric with the promise of what’s to come.

With your legs gently parted, he admires the intimate canvas before him, his voice a sultry whisper as he caresses your quivering thighs. “You’re absolutely breathtaking,” he murmurs, his words igniting a fiery desire that courses through your veins, intensifying the anticipation of his touch.

He wraps his fingers around his cock, teasing it a few times before skillfully unrolling the condom onto it.

As he prods at your entrance, a tantalizing mix of pleasure and pain courses through you, intensifying the sensation as he gradually inches deeper inside.

Your slickness acts as a natural lubricant, allowing him to slip into you with an arousing ease that leaves you gasping for more. The stretching sensation, though initially intense, begins to meld into a delicious ache that only adds to the growing desire pulsating between you.

He finally reaches the hilt, and you can’t help but release a guttural moan.

“Fuck,” you whimper, your voice a sultry mix of pleasure and vulnerability, “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to your girth. You’re stretching me so good,” you admit, locking eyes with him and gripping his arms tightly, your nails digging into his skin as you savor the exquisite sensation of being completely filled by him.

“You’re taking me so damn well, babe,” he breathes, his voice thick with desire, as he starts to move inside you at an agonizingly slow pace. Every deliberate, languid thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making you ache for more, even as you savor the intensity of the sensation.

He withdraws, the sensation of emptiness leaving you yearning for more, and then he pushes back in, each deliberate thrust sending ripples of pleasure coursing through your body.

You can feel him everywhere - deep within your core and the firm grip of his hands on your hips, guiding every electrifying moment.

You find yourself in a blissful haze, caught between drowsiness and intoxication as he maintains the unhurried rhythm. Every movement is tender, every touch is deliberate, and he seems acutely attuned to the signals your body is sending.

It doesn’t feel like just sex; it feels like a passionate declaration of love, an intimate connection that leaves you utterly enraptured.

“Does it feel good, babe?”

He murmurs, his voice a sensual melody that resonates with your desires. As he pushes himself inside once more, he searches for that sweet spot, and when he finally finds it, he teases and tantalizes it with a rhythmic precision that sends electric waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Each deliberate thrust is a symphony of ecstasy, and you can’t help but moan in response, your voice a harmonious duet with his.

“Yes.”

You pant, your voice trembling with desire as you instinctively move your legs further up his body, resting them on his shoulders.

With this new angle, he penetrates even deeper, hitting that perfect spot that sends bolts of pleasure racing through you like wildfire. Your arousal surges, a fierce and intoxication wave that threatens to drown you in the sea of ecstasy building within your core.

As he continues to make love to you with a tender passion, a rush of emotions courses through you, overwhelming your senses.

The way he moves within you, so gentle and caring, fills your heart with an intense and intoxicating love. It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, as if you’re floating on a cloud of affection and desire.

In this moment you realize, no one has ever connected with you so deeply and lovingly before, and it leaves you feeling like you’re soaring, intoxicated not just by pleasure, but by the love you have for him.

As your body responds to his every touch and movement, Yoongi can feel your walls contracting around him, a sure sign that you’re getting closer to the edge.

His experienced hands explore your body, finding one of your breasts and teasing your nipple until it hardens beneath his touch. Simultaneously, his other hand ventures lower, tracing a path to your core where he discovers your sensitive clit.

With deliberate and sensual movements, he begins to rub it in slow, teasing circles, intensifying your pleasure and bringing you closer to the brink of ecstasy.

The moment Yoongi’s fingertips make contact with your sensitive area, it’s as if an electric current surges through your body, setting your nerve endings on fire.

Your reaction is immediate and intense - your back arches instinctively, yearning for more of his electrifying touch. Each sensation he evokes heightens your desire, propelling you further down the path of unbridled pleasure.

As Yoongi continues to make love with deliberate slowness, his skillful touch ignites an intense longing within you. The combined sensations of his gentle thrusts, the delightful pinching of your nipple, and the rhythmic caresses of your clitoris send you hurtling towards an inevitable climax.

Unable to contain yourself, you cry out his name, your voice filled with ecstasy as your orgasm consumes you. Your body quivers with pleasure, your inner walls contracting in waves, your abdomen tightening, and your vision briefly obscured by the brilliant burst of light that dances behind your closed eyelids.

As your orgasm washes over you, Yoongi can’t help but be captivated by your exquisite display of pleasure.

He revels in the sight of your trembling lips, your flushed and contoured cheeks, and the mesmerizing motion of your breasts, which sway with each of his deliberate thrusts. While you ride out the waves of your orgasm, he continues to thrust into you, his own pleasure building as he relentlessly pursues his release, his eyes locked onto your euphoric expression.

He maintains his deliberate pace, keeping his thrusts slow and deep, savoring every moment.

As you slowly descend from the euphoria of your orgasm, Yoongi leans down to capture your lips in a passionate and tender kiss. Your moans and pants mix with the soft sounds of your kisses as he continues to move inside you.

As your throbbing pussy continues to clench around him, Yoongi’s hips twitch involuntarily and he can’t hold back any longer.

With one last, deep, and passionate thrust, he releases, filling the condom with his seed. His voice joins yours in a harmonious crescendo of pleasure as he moans your name, the intensity of the moment making it feel like time itself has come to a standstill.

As the waves of ecstasy subside, Yoongi’s ragged breaths gradually calm.

He carefully withdraws from your pussy, tying off the used condom and discarding it in the sink. His eyes then trace the contours of your flushed, sated form, watching as your chest rises and falls with each recovering breath.

Gently, he reaches out to stroke your cheek, the soft caress sending shivers down your spine. His fingers weave through your tousled hair, and he lowers his head to place tender, lingering kisses on your neck, leaving behind a few love marks as a reminder of your passionate love making.

“Yoongi, that was…”

You exhale, struggling to find the right words to convey the intensity of the experience, “perfect,” you finally manage to sum up, your voice laced with contentment and admiration. His laughter dances in the air, a light, melodic sound that fills the space between you, and he places another soft, adoring kiss on your neck in response.

“Anything for you, babe.”

He says with a warm smile, his eyes filled with affection as he reaches for the towel beside your head. Carefully, he begins to clean you up between your legs, his gentle touch offering both comfort and reassurance.

You can feel the relief as he clears away the pooled fluids, easing the slight discomfort that lingered. Afterward, he tosses the used towel to the sink, intending to clean it later, and then he finds your panties, placing them back on you, making sure a fresh pad is in place.

“Thank you, Yoon,” you murmur, your lips finding his in another passionate kiss.

You draw him closer to you, your bodies molding together as you continue to exchange affectionate kisses. “I think it helped with the pain, it doesn’t feel so bad anymore,” you add, your voice laced with the drowsiness of contentment.

As the soothing afterglow washes over you, fatigue begins to claim your senses. Yoongi hums in appreciation, his heart warmed by the knowledge that he could offer you some relief from the pain that had troubled you.

Yoongi retrieves his boxers, slipping them on, and then gently spoons you from behind. His warm hand finds its place on your stomach, providing a sense of comfort and security.

As he pulls the duvet over both of you, cocooning you in its warmth, you share an intimate moment of connection before succumbing to the embrace of sleep. The night’s passion has deepened your bond, and now, wrapped in each other’s arms, you drift off to dreamland, where your hearts continue to beat in perfect harmony.

The next day, a sense of relief washes over you as the cramps have eased up a bit.

Still, Yoongi suggests a day of relaxation, cocooned in the comforting warmth of blankets and each other’s presence. You gladly accept his proposal, and the two of you settle into a cozy nook.

The soft glow of the laptop screen casts a warm, intimate light across the room, painting everything in a gentle, cinematic hue. As you snuggle up to Yoongi, his arms wrapped around you, you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back.

With each passing minute, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this tranquil bubble of shared solitude.

As you both nestle in the warmth of your shared bed, a sense of nostalgia washes over you, prompting a heartfelt conversation about the serendipitous moment that brought you together.

10 years ago

A decade ago, the tapestry of your life bore a different pattern.

The memory takes you back to a moonlit night when you were navigating the winding roads into Seoul. Your car, a loyal companion until that point, suddenly rebelled with an ominous sound, convulsing like a wounded creature before coming to a lifeless halt.

Panic surged through your veins as you clutched your phone, dialing the number of your best friend, Jimin, in desperate hope of salvation.

In hindsight, the absence of roadside assistance on your insurance plan now seemed like a glaring oversight. Inexplicably, Jimin’s response to your predicament was a burst of laughter, an outpouring of mirth that mingled with your frustration and fury.

He casually mentioned that he knew someone who could help—a mechanic and one of his closest friends. Before disconnecting to make the necessary arrangements, he offered a cryptic piece of advice: "Be nice to him when he arrives."

Though you couldn’t see his face through the phone, you rolled your eyes instinctively, as if he could somehow perceive your exasperation.

After a seemingly interminable hour of waiting, your irritation had grown into a simmering fury, matched only by the biting cold that had begun to gnaw at you.

When Yoongi finally arrived, his weary smile greeted you, but your impatience was palpable in your eyes and your curt greeting. You wasted no time in describing the odd sequence of events that had led to your car’s demise—the strange sounds, the unsettling shaking, and the ultimate breakdown.

Arms crossed beneath your chest, you impatiently tapped your foot on the frozen ground. With a sly grin, Yoongi teasingly asked if you had an urgent appointment, to which you replied with a petulant shake of your head, your only desire being to swiftly resolve the situation and return home to warmth.

As he popped the hood open and began tinkering with the engine, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him.

He sported army-green cargo pants paired with a once-white t-shirt, though now it bore the unmistakable signs of his labor—stains of grease and oil littering its surface. His short, bleached-blond hair framed a weary but softly attractive face, one that appeared as though it hadn’t experienced a good night’s sleep in ages. His brawny, well-defined biceps flexed with each maneuver, and you found yourself admiring his physique, secretly deeming him quite attractive.

In another universe, where he didn’t exude indifference and annoyance, you might have mustered the courage to ask him out.

Ultimately, while he couldn’t perform a miraculous on-the-spot repair, he assured you that a colleague from his garage could tow your car, offering to personally drive you back home.

You hadn’t anticipated his offer but accepted it nonetheless. The ride back to your home was mostly shrouded in silence, save for the occasional question about how you knew Jimin.

You explained that you had met Jimin in college, and then an uncomfortable silence settled in the car. The irritation seemed to hang in the air; you couldn’t quite pinpoint whether it was his demeanor that rubbed you the wrong way or if it was simply the cumulative frustration from the terrible day you had endured.

Laughter bubbles up between you as you fondly reminisce about that night.

“You seemed so cold and like helping me was the last thing you wanted to do,” you recall with a grin, and Yoongi chuckles in agreement.

“Well, you weren’t any better; you seemed so angry and stuck up,” he playfully teases, which only makes you laugh even harder.

“My car had just died, and I was freezing!” you retort with a grin, both of you sharing in the joy of that humorous memory.

“Thankfully, you fixed my car a few days later,” you reflect, a warm smile on your face, “and we began to hang out with Jimin.” You find yourself lost in the memories of those early days, where you discovered that Yoongi was not just a skilled mechanic but also a sweet and caring man who deeply valued his friendships and the people around him.

You linger in Daegu for an extra day, savoring the moments, before embarking on a scenic drive to a remote campsite nestled near Juwangsan National Park.

As you cruise along, a faint, unfamiliar noise emanates from Holly’s depths, causing a hint of concern to creep into your mind. You decide to bring it up with Yoongi, but his ears don’t catch the same odd sound.

He reassures you that everything is likely okay, promising to address any issues should they arise. With his calming words, you ease back into the journey, albeit with a lingering curiosity about Holly’s mysterious hum.

After hours of anticipation, you finally arrive at the tranquil campsite.

The midday sun filters through the foliage as Yoongi deftly parks the Holly beside towering, lush trees. Together, you unfold the marquee, arranging it to create a cozy shelter from nature’s elements.

With care, you set up the stools and arrange them around a makeshift table, making the campsite feel more like a home away from home. The aroma of the surrounding wilderness invigorates your senses, and you can’t help but smile as you reminisce about the delicious meal Yoongi had prepared the day before.

With excitement, you retrieve some cold beers from the cooler, their refreshing chill a perfect contrast to the warm, sun-kissed air. Alongside the beverages, you bring out the leftover food, a testament to Yoongi’s culinary skills that continue to amaze you.

The aroma of the meal wafts through the air, tantalizing your taste buds and setting the scene for a perfect day in the great outdoors.

As you sit down to savor your meal, the anticipation for the adventures awaiting you in the national park fills the air. Your conversation turns to the exciting possibilities, and you both discuss the sights and trails you hope to explore.

“I think we’re going to be doing a lot of hiking these next days,” Yoongi’s laughter punctuates the conversation, a reflection of the carefree spirit that camping in the wilderness has brought out in both of you.

Between bites of food and sips of beer, you share your aspirations for the upcoming days, fully aware that the rugged terrain and challenging hikes will be both physically demanding and incredibly rewarding.

The midday sun casts a warm glow on your surroundings, making it feel like a special occasion as you enjoy a beer at this unconventional hour.

With a hint of amusement in your voice, you add, “Yeah, I think it’ll be good. We’ve been enjoying some downtime in bed for the past few days.” The memory of both your cramps and intimate moments and shared pleasures flashes in your eyes as you exchange glances with Yoongi.

“I didn’t think you’d be up for anything active with your cramps,” he pouted in mock defense, and you playfully shoved his shoulder. “It was good, Yoon. But staying active helps too, and thankfully, I think I’m on my last day,” you almost sing-song, frustration and relief mingling in your voice as you express your disdain for your period—both the flow and the cramps.

You lean into Yoongi’s shoulder, a soft smile on your face.

“Thank you,” you nudge him playfully with your shoulder against his. “For taking care of me and doing all that. You’re sweet. And you’re spoiling me,” you giggle, your fingers caressing his arm fondly.

“Anything for you, babe,” he says, his voice filled with warmth, and then leans in to kiss you tenderly, sealing your gratitude with a loving embrace.

Before dinner, you decide to embark on a short hiking trail, driven by the curiosity of discovering a hidden gem like a serene river or a picturesque waterfall. You navigate the winding path for about an hour, your anticipation growing with each step.

Finally, the sound of cascading water reaches your ears, and as you turn a bend, you’re greeted by the breathtaking sight of a small, pristine waterfall – a tranquil oasis amidst the wilderness that leaves you utterly captivated.

You and Yoongi stand there in awe, gazing at the waterfall in a moment of shared wonder.

The rushing water sparkles in the dappled sunlight, its beauty almost otherworldly. You’re both so captivated by the scene that you decide to capture it in photographs, creating lasting memories of this enchanting moment.

With your camera, you frame shots of the waterfall: some with both of you, others with just the magnificent natural wonder as the backdrop.

And, unable to resist the romantic atmosphere, you steal a sweet kiss, freezing that affectionate moment in time through the lens.

Surrounded by a sea of tourists, you and Yoongi remain in your own world, oblivious to the curious onlookers. It’s as if time has slowed down, and nothing else matters except the beauty of the waterfall and the warmth of each other’s presence. You exchange loving glances and share soft laughter, creating a bubble of serenity in the midst of the bustling crowd.

The world may be watching, but right now, all that truly exists is the magic between you two.

As the sun begins its descent and the sky transforms into a canvas of warm hues, you and Yoongi make your way back to the campsite. The crackling campfire comes to life under his skillful hands, casting a flickering glow over your evening.

The tantalizing aroma of dinner cooking wafts through the air, making your stomach growl in anticipation. The two of you settle by the fire, and Yoongi takes charge of preparing a delicious meal.

While he tends to the food, you decide to share a glimpse of your day with your friends.

Your fingers dance across your phone screen as you select the perfect photo of you and Yoongi beside the captivating waterfall (not the one with you kissing!). It’s a moment of pure joy captured in pixels, the smiles on your faces telling a story of love and adventure.

With a tap, you send the photo to your group chat, allowing your friends to share in your happiness, even from afar.

Jungkook [18:05]: That’s a pretty waterfall! You’re pretty too ___ 😀

Yoongi [18:07]: What about me? 🤔

Taehyung [18:10]: Nah, you look like something the cat dragged in 😂

Seokjin [18:11]: 🤣🤣🤣

Yoongi [18:13]: That was totally uncalled for…

Namjoon [18:13]: But you asked 😆

Jimin [18:14]: Is that a hickey on your neck, ___? 😚

Hoseok [18:15]: It totally is, I had to zoom in 🤣

Jungkook [18:18]: Maybe her sleep moaning finally got to be enough for hyung and they slept together!

Taehyung [18:19]: I think you’re onto something, Kookie! 🧐

You [18:21]: No! Nothing has happened! 🙄

Hoseok [18:21]: What is this about ___ sleep moaning??? 😳

You [18:22]: We’re not gonna talk about that! 😤

Jungkook [18:22]: Buy some earplugs, just saying 😇

You [18:22]: Kook! 👿

Jimin [18:26]: You can keep telling us nothing happened, but the hickey speaks for itself. 😇

Jimin [18:26]: Congratulations both 🎉 I’m glad you finally get some quality dick, ___. Hyung, be good to her 🙂

Jungkook [18:28]: I’m so happy that my part of the vacation is over, imagine sleeping in the top bunk of the van now 🫣💀

Yoongi [18:33]: We won’t do it with one of you sleeping right above us, relax 🙄

Jimin [18:34]: 👏👏👏

Jimin [18:34]: You know that Holly isn’t soundproof, right? I could still hear you from our tent 🙃

Yoongi [18:39]: Maybe it’s a good idea to buy earplugs then 😏

Namjoon [18:40]: 😳

With a chuckle and a shake of your head, you decide it’s time to give your phone a break.

Your friends in the group chat have already bombarded you with teasing messages, and you can practically hear their laughter through the screen.

You put down your phone, relishing the feeling of being unplugged from the virtual world and fully immersed in the real one – a cozy campfire, a delicious meal, and the warm company of Yoongi.

As you join Yoongi by the campfire, the aroma of the cooking dinner filling the air, you can’t help but grumble in frustration as your phone continues to buzz with messages from your friends.

With a dramatic sigh, you pull out your phone, the group chat still alive and buzzing with cheeky comments. You glance at the screen, reading words like ‘earplugs,’ ‘moaning,’ ‘about time,’ and ‘dick,’ causing a mix of embarrassment and amusement to wash over you.

“Why did you have to tell them?”

You groan, clearly flustered by their teasing. You look at Yoongi, hoping for some sympathy or perhaps an explanation for your current predicament.

“They were going to find out sooner or later anyway. And I think Jimin had a hunch,” he laughs, his shoulders shrugging nonchalantly. His laughter is infectious, and you can’t help but join in, realizing that there’s no escaping the playful banter of your friends.

You set your phone aside, deciding to embrace the teasing and enjoy the moment with Yoongi, who seems to take it all in stride.

The campfire crackles, and the two of you share a knowing glance, finding comfort in each other’s company amidst the good-natured ribbing from your friends.

As you settle down on your stools and start to savor the meal Yoongi has prepared, the ambiance around the campfire becomes serene. The crackling of the fire provides a soothing background melody, and the surrounding forest exudes a sense of tranquility.

The two of you share stories and anecdotes, your laughter filling the air as you recount the adventures you’ve had together. The flickering firelight casts playful shadows on your faces, accentuating the intimate atmosphere.

As you take bites of the delicious meal, you exchange glances, each bite strengthening the bond between you. Underneath the starlit sky, you find yourselves lost in each other’s conversation and the warmth of the campfire, cherishing these moments of togetherness in the heart of nature.

The following morning, long before the sun had a chance to paint the sky with its golden hues, you were already a flurry of activity.

The anticipation of witnessing the magic of a sunrise from atop the mountain has stirred something deep within you, an irresistible call to adventure that you can’t ignore. In the gentle pre-dawn light, you sit down with Yoongi to a humble breakfast of yesterday’s leftovers, savoring the flavors that still linger from your campfire-cooked dinner.

Each bite is a reminder of the simple joys that nature and Yoongi’s company bestows upon you.

After nourishing your bodies, you donn your hiking gear. The familiar weight of your backpack, filled with essentials for the journey ahead, settling comfortably on your shoulders. The laces of your sturdy hiking boots are expertly tied, ready to carry you to new heights.

Outside, the air hangs heavy, draped in a delicate shroud of mist that clings to the trees like a whispering secret. It’s as though the forest has donned a mystical cloak, transforming the ordinary woods into an enchanted realm from a fairy tale.

As you and Yoongi venture deeper into this ethereal landscape, the fog paints the world with an otherworldly charm. The trees, their gnarled branches reaching for the heavens, looms like ancient sentinels guarding the secrets of the woods.

Each step you take stirs the damp earth beneath your boots, releasing the intoxicating aroma of dew-kissed leaves and rich, fertile soil.

Your journey commences with each step, retracing the familiar path that led past the captivating waterfall you had encountered the day before. The sound of rushing water serenades you, its glistening cascade illuminated by the subtle hues of twilight. It’s as if nature itself had prepared a prelude for the grand spectacle to come.

As you venture higher into the mountain’s embrace, a gentle ascent that mirrors your anticipation, the world around you begins to transform.

The inky darkness of night slowly relinquishes its hold, granting way to the soft, ephemeral blush of dawn. The sky, painted in a canvas of purples and blues, seems to acknowledge the imminent arrival of the sun. In the east, a delicate orange ember emerges on the horizon, a harbinger of the magnificent sunrise that awaits you.

The very fabric of the sky begins to shift, transforming from the tranquil coolness of night into the vibrant warmth of morning. It is a slow and deliberate metamorphosis, nature’s own symphony of colors and light, playing out just for you.

A serene clearing emerges beneath the canopy of the forest, a natural amphitheater carved by the hand of time itself. While it isn’t the highest point of your journey, it offers a vantage point that feels like an exclusive front-row seat to one the cosmos’ most exquisite performances.

Here, you decide to pause, the world around you falling into hushed reverence for the celestial spectacle about to unfold. The very essence of the morning seems to gather around this sacred spot, as if nature had designed it solely for moments like these.

As you settle down amidst the tranquil embrace of the clearing, your senses seem to sharpen, attuned to the subtle symphony of nature. The forest around you was still, each leaf holding its breath in anticipation. The air carries the earthy scent of dew-kissed leaves, the morning’s first breath imbued with the promise of a new day.

The horizon is a canvas of vibrant hues, a masterpiece of oranges and pinks intermingling with the last vestiges of the night’s indigo. The sun, still an unassuming ember, hovers just below the edge of the world, poised to set the sky ablaze with its radiance.

The sun, casting its golden hues over the world, paints an ethereal dance on Yoongi’s skin. Each ray of sunlight, as if with intention, traces the contours of his face, highlighting the exquisite features that have captured your heart. His skin, kissed by the gentle warmth of the morning sun, seem to glow from within, emanating a natural radiance that defies explanation. The dappled shadows play along the edges of his features, accentuating the depth of his gaze, the curve of his lips, and the line of his jaw.

As you hold his hand, fingers entwine in a silent testament to your bond, you marvel at how he transforms in this soft morning light. His eyes, those windows to his soul, hold a quiet wisdom that transcends words. They cradle the promise of new beginnings, just like the rising sun.

You nestle your head against the crook of Yoongi’s neck, your cheek pressing tenderly against his skin, as if seeking refuge in the warmth of his embrace. A contented sigh escapes your lips, carrying with it the weight of your feelings, heavy with love and adoration.

Your voice, soft and intimate, is a gentle caress, lacing every word with the depth of your emotions.

“This is nice,” you whisper, the words carrying the essence of the moment—a moment where time stands still, and all that matters is the two of you, entwined in the beauty of the sunrise. His response is a silent affirmation of your sentiment, “It really is.”

Yoongi’s fingers interlock with yours again, a tangible link that mirrors the bond of your hearts. There’s no need for elaborate declarations or grand gestures; the simplicity of this experience is enough to convey the depth of your love.

You remain in that tranquil embrace for what feels like an eternity, though it is a mere thirty minutes that passes—the very same amount of time it takes for the sun to complete its mesmerizing ascent. As the golden orb inches higher into the sky, painting the world with hues of orange and pink, you’re enveloped by an overwhelming sense of contentment.

“Ah, sorry,” a soft, apologetic voice intrudes upon your reverie, drawing your attention away from the captivating sunrise. Startled by the interruption, you turn to find a passerby, their presence briefly disrupting the cocoon of intimacy you and Yoongi have created.

Breaking the spell, you rise from your serene perch, extending a hand towards Yoongi as you seek to regain the moment’s magic. He accepts your invitation with a nod, understanding your unspoken desire to continue your adventure. Together, hand in hand, you decide to venture further up the trail, in pursuit of new vistas.

In tandem you embark on your ascent up the mountain trail, the path gradually becoming steeper and more challenging. As the elevation increases, so do the physical demands of the hike, leaving you both breathless and perspiring. Each step is a testament to your determination and shared commitment to reaching new heights.

The mountain’s relentless climb seems to conspire against you, testing your endurance and resilience. The air grows thinner, and the weight of the ascent bares down on your chests, making each inhalation feel like a battle against gravity itself. Yet, you press on, fueled by the promise of a breathtaking view awaiting you at the peak.

“We should take a break,” Yoongi suggests, his voice tinged with a hint of laughter as he gently pulls you away from the challenging mountain trail and into the soothing embrace of the forest.

Despite your determination, the physical strain of the ascent has left you panting and gasping for breath. “You’re a panting and groaning mess,” he says, as you follow him willingly, your face displaying a playful pout behind his back.

In the heart of the forest, surrounded by the tranquil sounds of nature, you find respite from the relentless climb. The cool shade of the trees provides a much-needed refuge from the sun’s unforgiving rays. As you settle down, you can't help but admire how Yoongi’s eyes sparkle with amusement, and you share a knowing smile, appreciating the momentary escape from the strenuous hike.

“And you’re turning me on.”

Yoongi confesses with a mischievous glint in his eyes, as he playfully pushes you up against a tree.

You can’t help but burst into laughter, utterly bewildered by his comment.

“How the heck can I be turning you on? We’re just walking!” you exclaim, your amusement clear, but you wince slightly as you rub your shoulder. The impact with the tree isn't entirely pleasant, but thankfully, your backpack absorbed most of the force.

A feral growl escapes from Yoongi’s lips as he closes the distance between you, his gaze intense and hungry.

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, as if he’s ready to devour you whole. “First,” he huskily begins, his voice dripping with desire, “you’re panting and groaning, and it’s making me think of sex with you. Second,” he continues, his eyes never leaving yours, “your ass in those tights is nothing short of sinful.”

He shamelessly runs his hand down your body, slowly sliding one of his legs between yours, igniting a fiery desire impossible to ignore.

Your senses are ablaze as desire courses through you, and you can’t help but wonder if he can feel the evidence of your arousal even through your tights.

You gulp audibly, your heart racing at his word. “Babe, you’re already wet,” he says with a teasing chuckle, his voice carrying a hint of menace that sends shivers down your spine.

Before you can react, he dives in, capturing your lips with a passionate, forceful kiss.

Your backpack straps fall to your sides, and the backpack thuds to the ground, forgotten. You moan into his mouth, your body trembling as his thigh rubs provocatively against your clothed core, stoking the flames of desire that burn within you, leaving you yearning for him in every possible way.

“Shit, Yoongi, I want you,” you confess, your voice laced with desire and urgency. But then doubt creeps in, and you hesitate, voicing your concern, “But what if someone sees us?”

Your arousal is undeniable, but so is your fear of being caught doing something intimate in a public place.

“No one will see, and you’ll be quiet, yeah?”

He insists, pressing his body firmly against yours, his breath hot against your ear. You gulp, your heart racing with anticipation, and nod in agreement.

The thrill of the risk and the promise of passion in this secret nook overwhelm your senses, making it impossible to resist his advances.

“Turn around then,” he murmurs, delivering a playful slap to your ass as you obediently pivot, your front now pressed against the rough bark of the tree.

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel the coolness of the tree against your heated skin, contrasting with the warmth building within you.

Yoongi swiftly discards his backpack, the thug echoing through the serene forest as it hits the ground. His strong hands find your hips, fingers gripping firmly as he grinds his already hard dick against your ass. The sensation sends a shiver of desire coursing through your body, and you arch your back, craving more of his touch.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask him in between pants.

“No,” he breaths, “did you pack some by chance?” he asks you back, slightly frustrated.

“It’s not exactly standard hiking gear,” you quip between gasps and laughter, your excitement mingling with the absurdity of the situation.

Yoongi chuckles too, a mix of amusement and frustration.

“Don’t men carry condoms in their wallets?”

You joke, but it falls flat as Yoongi grunts, “Not everybody does,” he remarks, frustrated as he still feels so aroused and he just wants you now. He’s thinking about fucking you raw, and just the thought alone arouses him so damn much.

“Fuck,” he says as he runs a hand through his long black hair in frustration. “I’m clean, are you?” he asks with a strain to his voice, like it’s taking all of him to hold back.

“Yeah. So what are you waiting for?”

Your words are laced with anticipation and desire as you surrender to the intensity of the moment, ready to give in to the forbidden thrill of your passionate rendezvous in the secluded forest.

Yoongi doesn’t have to be told twice and he immediately gets to work, tugging his pants and boxers down, freeing his cock.

Then he pulls your leggings down with your panties, and as his hard dick meets your bare skin, the tension between you both becomes palpable. His impatient growl reverberates through the stillness of the forest, intensifying the sense of urgency and longing that courses through your bodies.

“I’m sorry it has to be quick and without prep,” in the hushed tones of the forest, his apology carries a weight of longing and frustration, but your reassuring words fill the air with understanding and acceptance.

As your bodies align in the dimly lit woods, the anticipation heightens. Each touch and movement sends waves of desire coursing through your bodies, igniting a fire that threatens to consume every rational thought.

He reaches a hand down between your legs and feels your wetness there and he’s thankful for it, because that means he will most likely slide right in. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you.

“Spread your legs for me.”

The sensation of his hand on your ass sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. His commanding yet considerate touch ignites a spark of desire as you obediently spread your legs, inviting him into the heated embrace of your longing body.

Each movement, every whispered command, intensifies the anticipation of what’s to come.

Your heart races as you brace against the tree, your body arching in an instinctive plea for more.

The primal tension in the air is palpable as he spreads your aching pussy and ass wide, the anticipation building with every moment. As he guides himself into your quivering core, the sensation is a heady mix of pleasure and urgency, each inch of his cock claiming you with a possessive intensity that leaves you breathless.

You grit your teeth against the initial discomfort, your breath catching in your throat.

“I’m sorry. I promise it’ll feel better soon,” his soothing words wash over you like a balm, and you nod, your trust in him unwavering.

As you both hold still for a moment, you feel the tension slowly ebbing away. Each measured thrust sends waves of sensation rippling through your body, transforming the initial pain into a cascade of pleasure that threatens to consume you.

“Fuck.”

You cling to the tree, feeling the rugged bark against your palms, grounding you in the intensity of the moment, as he is fully sheathed inside you.

“Shhh, babe,” he hushes you, “you don’t want anybody to hear us.”

His voice is a sultry whisper, a tantalizing secret shared only between you and the wilderness that surrounds you.

Each thrust carries the promise of ecstasy, a stolen moment of passion amidst the serene backdrop of the forest. Your hushed moans blend with the sounds of nature, a symphony of desire that sings with each rhythmic plunge, creating a delicious tension that electrifies the air.

The primal intensity of him, bare and unrestrained, sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Every movement, every stroke, feels like a forbidden dance in the heart of the wild, where desire meets nature’s untamed beauty.

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the mounting sensations, but it’s a futile effort as your body betrays you with involuntary quivers and moans, blending your cries of pleasure with the rustling leaves and whispering trees around you.

“Fuck you feel incredible without a condom on.”

He whispers in your ear and your mind is a whirlwind of ecstasy as his words send shockwaves of desire through your body.

The feeling of him, raw and unrestrained, makes you feel more connected to him than ever before.

You can’t help but respond, you voice a breathy symphony of pleasure, “Yoongi, don’t stop,” you moan, your nails digging into the tree bark as he continues to drive you to the brink of ecstasy.

His words send a jolt of desire through you, igniting a fiery connection between your bodies. Your inner muscles clench around him, a natural response to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. The sensation is electrifying, like a current of euphoria surging through your core. His hiss of pleasure only fuels you more.

With each powerful thrust, a symphony of sensation washes over you. His primal need for you drives him deeper, igniting a wild, intoxicating connection between your bodies.

Your grip on the tree tightens in tandem with his unrelenting pace, fingers digging into the rough bark as if anchoring yourself to the moment.

His head rests against your neck, warm breath brushing against your skin, while his teeth gently graze your shoulder, an instinctual response to stifle his moans.

As Yoongi continues his relentless pace, the boundaries between pleasure and the outside world blur into a tantalizing haze.

Every thrust sends shivers of ecstasy through your body, and the sensations become your entire universe.

The wild, unbridled connection between you and him transcends the awareness of the world around you. In the back of your mind, you vaguely notice the subtle symphony of nature surrounding you – the rustling leaves and twigs breaking getting closer.

Fuck.

Your voice trembles as you speak, the urgency of the situation sinking in.

“Yoongi, I think somebody’s coming,” you gasp, your words barely above a whisper, but laced with fear and desire.

The possibility of being caught adds an electrifying edge to the added arousal you feel.

“It’s probably just a squirrel,” he reassures you, his voice strained with the effort to keep his own excitement at bay.

His relentless thrusts continue, each one driving you both closer to the edge. But in the distance, the sound of footsteps grows louder and closer, a faint but undeniable presence that sends a shiver down your spine.

Frantically, he picks up his pace even more, his hips slamming into you with a fervor matched only by the urgency of the approaching footsteps.

Your muffled moans mix with his heavy breathing as your bodies move in unison, chasing the euphoria that hovers just beyond your reach. The tension in the air is palpable, a heady mix of desire and the fear of discovery, pushing you both to the brink.

You’re startled by a man’s voice calling out, “Anybody here? Are you alright?”

Panic surges through you as you realize you might be caught in the act, but strangely, the thrill of being watched intensifies the sensations coursing through you body.

Your heart pounds, and you feel your orgasm approaching like a freight train, careening toward you with unstoppable force.

Yoongi doesn’t know if you should answer the man or not, who clearly thinks you’re in distress. He breaths against your ear all the same, “Answer him, babe. Maybe he’ll go away then.”

His voice is laced with urgency, and he increases his pace, trying to push you both to the edge before the intruder gets any closer.

Does he really want you to speak to someone while he fucks you? You’re afraid that your unsteady voice will betray you, but you really want whoever is closing in on you to go away. So, you steady your voice and yell, “We’re fine,” in a tone that’s slightly higher than usual. The words come out rushed and strained, but you hope they’ll do the trick and make the stranger go away.

As Yoongi thrusts hard into you again, both of you teetering on the edge of climax, he whispers, “Good girl.”

His voice is strained with desire and a hint of urgency, intensifying the sensation coursing through your body.

The footsteps don’t retreat as you had hoped; instead, they draw even closer, sending a shiver of anxiety down your spine again. Fuck.

The fear of being discovered intensifies the sensations coursing through your body, pushing you relentlessly over the edge. Your walls tighten around Yoongi’s throbbing cock, and your vision blurs as a wave of pleasure crashes over you.

Desperate to stifle your rising moans, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip.

Yoongi’s release surges through him in powerful waves, and he can’t help but revel in the overwhelming pleasure. Yet, the urgency of the situation forces him to act quickly.

He withdraws from your pulsating pussy, still throbbing with desire, and swiftly pulls up his boxers and pants. With equal haste, he helps you rearrange your clothing, his breath ragged and a mix of satisfaction and anxiety in his eyes.

“Hi, I heard weird noises,” a man stands before you, his eyes scanning your disheveled appearance and your flushed cheeks, a bead of sweat trickling down your temple.

“I wanted to make sure that nobody was in distress,” he says with eyebrows raised in suspicion, appearing genuinely concerned. You and Yoongi exchange a brief, nervous glance, your breaths ragged and your heart races as the stranger’s piercing gaze lingers a moment too long.

The once quiet woods now hum with the echoes of your ragged breaths, a symphony of vulnerability and exhilaration. Yoongi stands beside you, attempting to regain his composure, his chest rising and falling with an uneven cadence.

You, on the other hand, remain a quivering and panting mess, the aftermath of your orgasm still coursing through your veins. Your backpacks haphazardly discarded on the ground.

“We’re fine.”

Yoongi eventually manages to say, his voice slightly hoarse from the unexpected interruption. The awkward silence that lingers during the stranger’s inquiries feels like an eternity, stretching time into an uncomfortable pause. As Yoongi speaks, he feels a mixture of embarrassment and relief washing over him. His earlier intense arousal begins to ebb away, replaced by a more composed state of mind.

“Are you sure?”

The stranger directs his question to you, and your heart momentarily skips a beat.

You hastily gather your wits, aware of the need for a convincing response. Taking a deep breath, you lock eyes with the concerned passerby.

“Yes,” you assert, your voice trembling ever so slightly. You feel the weight of the lie as it leaves your lips, and you hope with all your might that it’s convincing enough. “This is my boyfriend – he was just pushing me too hard against the trail, and I’m in really bad shape. That’s why I’m out of breath.”

You silently pray that your words paint a believable picture, all while Yoongi stands beside you, maintaining a façade of casual exhaustion, the intensity of the recent encounter still lingering in his eyes. The stakes are high, and the act must hold for just a little longer.

Yoongi looks at you with a mixture of astonishment and admiration, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. You can see the subtle curve of his lips, hinting at a proud and relieved smile that he tries to conceal. It’s as if he’s realizing just how quick-witted and resourceful you can be in a pinch.

To truly convince the stranger, you instinctively pull Yoongi into a tight embrace, as if seeking refuge in his arms.

Your lips meet his in a hurried yet convincing kiss, one filled with genuine affection and a hint of urgency. As you pull away, you can’t help but feel the lingering warmth of his lips against yours, a stark contrast to the shivers coursing through your body.

Beneath your hurried facade, you’re acutely aware of the discomfort caused by the sticky remnants of your passionate encounter. Your panties cling uncomfortably to your sensitive skin, and you can’t help but frown in concern.

You can feel Yoongi’s cum starting to leak out of your pussy and deep down, you hope and pray that there are no visible signs of it.

The stranger regards both of you for a few more seconds, as if trying to read the truth in your eyes.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, hoping that your hastily crafted lie has convinced him. Sweat beads form on your forehead, and you wonder if he can see through your facade.

Then, with a subtle nod and a skeptical yet understanding expression, the stranger seems to accept your explanation.

Relief washes over you, like a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. You share a glance with Yoongi, and there’s a silent exchange of gratitude and relief in your eyes.

As you and Yoongi hoist your backpacks onto your shoulders, you exchange one last polite nod with the stranger. His gaze follows you, a hint of lingering curiosity in his eyes, but he says nothing more.

With a renewed sense of urgency, you and Yoongi turn away from him, your footsteps falling in sync on the trail. The forest envelopes you once again, the trees whispering secrets and the leaves cushioning your every step.

Silence settles between you and Yoongi for a moment, but it’s a comfortable silence, laced with the knowledge of the thrilling encounter you just had. Your hearts still race, and every rustle of leaves makes you turn your head, half-expecting the stranger to reappear.

“Oh my god, that was my worst nightmare come true!”

You exclaim, your voice hushed but filled with urgency, as you and Yoongi put some distance between yourselves and the stranger. Your heart still races, and your words tumble out in a breathless rush.

“I can’t believe we got caught like that.”

You glance at Yoongi, your eyes wide with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. The two of you share a quick, nervous laugh.

“Ouch, was I that bad?” Yoongi pouts in mock offense, his lips forming an adorable sulk as he glances at you. But before you can respond, he playfully nudges you with his shoulder, eliciting a soft giggle from you. His laughter mixes with yours, the tension of the moment dissipating like morning mist under the sun.

You playfully slap him across his chest, a mischievous sparkle in your eyes. “No! You know what I mean,” you tease, your voice laced with affectionate sarcasm. “You were incredible,” you add, letting your fingers linger on his chest, tracing invisible patterns, a silent promise of more to come.

“That might have been your worst nightmare, but babe,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I felt how your pussy clenched more as he got closer.” His teasing tone is met with a hint of a smirk as he leans in closer. Your cheeks flush even redder.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You reply with a sly grin, your footsteps quickening as you lead the way up the trail. You look back over your shoulder, catching his eye with a playful glint. It’s a silent invitation for him to chase after you, a wordless promise of more adventures to come.

“Just admit you’re an exhibitionist at heart, babe.”

He teases with a hearty laugh. You huff in response, but deep down, a rush of conflicting emotions surges through you. A mixture of embarrassment, excitement, and a newfound sense of liberation. It’s as though this unexpected encounter has unlocked a hidden facet of your desires, one you never knew existed.

“Also, can we talk about me being your boyfriend?”

He asks, his gaze intense and searching, his eyes locking onto your blushing face. In the heat of the moment, you have forgotten your mishap when you spoke with the stranger, and now anxiety bubbles up within you. You stammer for words, your mind racing as you mumble incoherently, desperately hoping he won’t be upset.

He comes to a sudden halt, his fingers gently but firmly wrapping around your arms, and he fixes his gaze deep into your eyes.

A hint of vulnerability shines through his expression as he says, “I liked it.”

His voice is soft and sincere. A warm smile graces his lips, and you can sense the honesty behind those words, making your heart flutter with a mixture of relief and affection.

Your tense features immediately soften, and a wave of relief washes over you. You feel yourself melting in his embrace, his touch reassuring and warm.

With wide eyes filled with wonder, you whisper, “You did?”

The words hang in the air, heavy with emotion, as you search his eyes for confirmation.

“Yeah. In fact, I’ve been thinking about it for a few days,” he admits, scratching the back of his head, his vulnerability endearing. As you gaze into his deep brown eyes, you sense a whirlwind of emotions, but love shines through, swirling like a gentle current that binds your hearts together.

“I’ve been tormenting myself with this for the past few weeks,” you confess, the weight of your feelings finally spilling out. “I’ve been desperate to define what we are. And, honestly, it didn’t help when you introduced me as your ‘friend’ to your family.” The words hang in the air, charged with the uncertainty and longing that have been building within you for so long.

“If I had introduced you as my girlfriend,” he chuckles, “my mom would’ve started planning our wedding right then and there. And babies? Oh, she’d be all over that.”

His laughter is infectious, and you can’t help but smile at his words, even if you’re still pouting playfully.

“But didn’t your sister do that anyway?”

You playfully shove him, joining in on his laughter. “I swear, your family is all about weddings and baby plans.”

“That’s because she’s noisy and has a sixth sense,” he tells you with a playful grin, wrapping an arm around your waist as you both start walking again. “But hey, I promise not to pressure you for babies anytime soon.”

“You’re not pressuring me,” you say with a reassuring smile, looking into his eyes. “If anything, I’ll probably be the one pressuring you about that. I’m almost 30, and I’m not getting any younger. I’m not saying I want kids right now, but in the future, yes.”

He meets your gaze with a soft, heartfelt expression. “I do too,” he says, his voice filled with sincerity and a touch of vulnerability.

“So, do you want to date me, exclusively?”

You ask, turning your head toward him, your smile radiating warmth. His eyes light up with excitement as he responds, “God, yes.”

His hands find yours, and you intertwine your fingers, feeling a rush of emotions. In that moment, it feels like your heart might burst with love. He’s finally officially yours, and you are his.

You turn around, catching his lips in a soft, tender kiss, sealing your newfound commitment with a sweet and heartfelt gesture.

You continue your hike hand in hand, reaching the summit of the mountain a few hours later. The view from the top is nothing short of breathtaking, with the sun casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape. The two of you stand there, silently taking in the beauty that surrounds you, feeling a deep connection between your intertwined fingers.

However, a persistent reminder of your passionate encounter still lingers – your damp panties, a consequence of both the intense hike and the thrilling escapade earlier. You can’t help but wish you had packed a spare pair, as you feel a mixture of sweat and his cum leaving you in a constant state of arousal.

The next day, you revel in the newfound bliss of having Yoongi officially as your boyfriend.

Your morning is drenched in the soft, golden light filtering through the curtains, and you can’t resist the urge to express your love. With delicate kisses, you trace a path along his neck, leaving a trail of affectionate, crimson imprints in your wake, each mark a testament to your newfound love.

After another exhilarating hike, you stumble upon a magnificent waterfall, its cascading waters shimmering in the sunlight. The sheer force of nature’s beauty leaves you in awe. But as the day wears on, your fatigue catches up with you.

Your feet ache from the miles you’ve trekked in the past few days. Each step back to Holly feels like a triumph over your body’s protests, a testament to the incredible adventures you’ve shared.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow inside the van, Yoongi suggests a mutual foot massage to ease the fatigue that has settled into your limbs. You eagerly agree, both wanting to give and receive comfort after a long day of hiking.

You settle into a cozy spot on the bed, your legs stretched out, and Yoongi’s foot cradled in your lap.

His strong, nimble fingers start working their magic, tracing delicate patterns on your skin, expertly kneading away the day’s tension. It feels like heaven as he finds and releases every knot and kink in your tired feet, making you sigh in bliss. You can’t help but marvel at how skilled he is, not just with his hands but in everything he does.

You return the favor, your fingers replicating his motions on his own tired feet. The exchange of care and affection in this intimate moment strengthens the bond between you.

As you both lose yourselves in the rhythmic dance of your fingers, you’re reminded that it’s not just about the massages; it’s about the love and closeness you share, making each touch all the more meaningful.

After leaving the previous campsite, you decide to explore further, heading north to Yeongdeok.

There, you stumble upon a hidden gem—a quaint park tucked away amidst nature’s embrace. The park boasts a winding hiking trail, promising adventure and serenity in equal measure.

At the trailhead, you’re greeted by a lush canopy of trees that sway gently in the breeze, their leaves casting playful shadows on the ground. The earthy scent of the forest fills your nostrils as you begin your ascent. Birds sing melodious tunes, creating a harmonious backdrop to your journey.

As you reach the pinnacle of the trail, your efforts are rewarded with a breathtaking view that leaves you in awe. Before you, stretch the endless expanse of the sea, its azure waters stretch out as far as the eye can see. Below, mighty cliffs and jagged rocks rise from the depths, standing sentry against the relentless waves.

The sea’s rhythmic ballet is hypnotic, its waves crashing against the cliffs with both force and grace, as if engaged in an eternal dance.

You and Yoongi stand in silence, absorbing the sheer majesty of this natural spectacle. It’s moments like these, when you’re surrounded by the untamed beauty of the world, that you feel the most alive, connected not just to nature but to each other.

“It’s really beautiful.”

Inhaling deeply, you let the sheer beauty of the ocean and cliffs wash over you, filling your lungs with the crisp, salty air. Beside you, Yoongi, his eyes reflecting the same awe you feel, interlaces his fingers with yours, his silent affirmation of the breathtaking panorama before you.

After leaving the serene park, you and Yoongi embark on a short drive to a beach; a local secret with crystal-clear waters that rival even the most exotic of destinations.

The moment your toes touch the powdery sand, a sense of tranquility washes over you. The sun kisses your skin, its warmth like a gentle embrace, and you slip into your bathing suit, feeling the soft fabric hug your body. Yoongi stands beside you, a grin of pure joy on his face, as you both take in the panorama before you.

The water stretches out, a palette of blues and greens merging in a harmonious blend, inviting you to explore its depths.

Hand in hand, you and Yoongi walk along the shoreline, the cool, foamy waves lapping at your feet. It’s a sensory symphony—the sound of the waves crashing, the salty tang of the sea in the air, and the soft caress of the sand underfoot.

As you wade into the shallow water, you can’t help but steal glances at each other, laughter bubbling up as the gentle waves playfully tease you. The ocean’s embrace is both invigorating and soothing, a bittersweet reminder that your vacation days are numbered. You’re determined to savor every precious moment together, etching these memories into your hearts before the inevitable chill of autumn arrives.

Following a day of exploration and seaside delight, the two of you stumble upon a charming local restaurant, its rustic façade promising authentic flavors of the coastal town.

With the scent of the sea still lingering in your hair, you step inside and are immediately greeted by the tantalizing aroma of freshly cooked snow crabs, a local delicacy that beckons to your taste buds. Seated at a quaint wooden table with a view of the bustling kitchen, you and Yoongi embark on a culinary adventure.

The dishes arrive, each one a work of art on the plate. The first bite of succulent snow crab sends a burst of flavor that dances across your palate, a symphony of sweet and savory notes that leave you craving more.

As you savor each mouthful, you steal glances at Yoongi, his eyes reflecting the same appreciation for the exquisite meal. There’s a shared understanding between you, an unspoken bond that transcends words—a silent agreement that this moment, this meal, is something special.

The dim, cozy ambiance of the restaurant only adds to the intimacy of the evening. The hours slip away as you indulge in the local cuisine, the flavors becoming more than just food—they’re an experience, a memory etched into your journey. With each bite, you feel closer to the heart of this coastal town and to each other.

As the sun begins its gentle descent beyond the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape, you and Yoongi make your way to a nearby campground.

The day has been a tapestry of unforgettable experiences, from the rugged trails to the soothing embrace of the sea. Now, under the canvas of the night sky, you find solace in the simple yet comforting embrace of your campsite.

With the rhythmic lullaby of crickets and the distant whispers of the breeze in the trees, you set up your cozy haven for the night. The soft glow of your campfire flickers in the darkness, casting dancing shadows that seem to mirror the playful dance of your hearts. The aroma of crackling wood mingles with the scent of the forest, creating an intoxicating blend that fills the air.

You and Yoongi retire to your snug sleeping quarters, cocooned in warmth and each other’s presence. The day’s adventures have left your bodies pleasantly fatigued, and as you lay beneath a blanket of stars, the world seems to fade away.

The hushed conversations and gentle laughter between you are the only sounds in the stillness of the night.

As you continue your journey, the rhythmic hum of Holly’s engine is suddenly interrupted by an ominous noise again, but more prominent than before. At first, it’s a faint whisper, like a distant rumble, but it steadily grows louder and more disconcerting. The unease in the pit of your stomach mirrors the growing intensity of the sound.

Yoongi’s keen ears catch the disturbance too, and his brows furrow in concern.

The two of you exchange worried glances, realizing that this is not a good sign. Holly, your trusted companion on this adventure, seems to be voicing its distress in the only way it knows how.

The noise reverberates through the van, making the situation impossible to ignore. It’s a reminder that even the best-laid plans can be derailed by unexpected challenges. The anticipation and uncertainty hang in the air, creating a sense of urgency as you approach Andong, hoping to find a solution to the growing problem.

With each passing mile, the noise becomes a relentless companion, a constant reminder of the unknown. Your hearts beat in tandem with Holly’s disconcerting rhythm, as you brace yourselves for whatever lies ahead in this unexpected twist of your journey.

In the heart of Andong, Yoongi’s determination leads you to a local garage that radiates a sense of authenticity and warmth.

With a friendly smile and a humble request, he approaches the mechanics and inquires if they might have a hydraulic lift he can borrow for a moment.

The mechanics, deeply rooted in the spirit of their tight-knit community, are quick to oblige. Their willingness to help a stranger on the road is a testament to the hospitality and camaraderie of the place. They nod with understanding and offer Yoongi their trust, allowing him to work on the van in peace.

As Yoongi delves beneath the van’s chassis, the anticipation in the air is palpable.

You watch him with admiration, the clinking of tools and the occasional muttered words of problem-solving creating a symphony of determination. As Yoongi dives into the task at hand, you find yourself drawn into the rhythm of his work.

The garage’s dimly lit interior casts elongated shadows as he meticulously dissects Holly’s front wheel section. The metallic clinks of tools and the soft hum of the overhead lights fill the air, creating a symphony of purposeful activity.

With every piece he carefully removes, the mystery of Holly’s strange noise unravels.

It’s as if he’s conducting a delicate orchestra of mechanics, and you’re an audience of one, enchanted by his expertise.

His hands move with a graceful precision, each movement deliberate and calculated. In this moment, as the problem is revealed under the probing beam of his flashlight, a surge of relief washes over you.

You realize how much you rely on him, not just as your partner in this journey, but as the unwavering troubleshooter who turns setbacks into triumphs.

As the source of the strange noise is pinpointed, a triumphant smile spreads across Yoongi’s face. Holly, a silent witness to your adventures, almost seems to sigh in relief too.

As Yoongi kneels beside the van, his fingers deftly inspecting the worn-out drive shaft cuffs and tightening loose bolts, he begins to explain the intricacies of the van’s inner workings.

Though the technical jargon might as well be a foreign language to you, you’re completely captivated by the way he lights up when he talks about it.

His voice, a soothing blend of confidence and passion, weaves a story of mechanical marvels and engineering wizardry. Each word he utters carries the weight of expertise, and as you watch his hands move with the grace of a seasoned craftsman, you can’t help but admire his mastery of the subject. Even though the details might elude you, the admiration in your eyes speaks volumes. Listening to Yoongi, you realize how love can infuse even the most mundane topics with magic.

The way he pours his heart into this moment, explaining the van’s ailments and the remedies required, makes you fall in love with him all even more.

In this garage, surrounded by the scent of grease and the echoes of tinkering tools, you find yourself not just appreciating his mechanical expertise but also marveling at the depth of your bond.

As he wraps up his explanation, you can’t help but smile, grateful for the chance to witness his passion and to be a part of this adventure with him.

As Yoongi approaches the garage owners with a confident smile, you can’t help but admire his resourcefulness. It’s one of those moments that showcase his determination and practical problem-solving skills.

The owners, a pair of weathered but friendly faces, nod in acknowledgment as Yoongi explains his needs. With a swift exchange of money, the spare parts are in his hands, and he’s back at work.

The tools clink and clank, echoing in the garage like a symphony of repair. As he meticulously replaces the worn-out cuffs and tightens the loose screws, you stand by, a silent witness to his dedication. The rhythm of his movements, the focused look on his face, and the occasional muttering to himself all paint a portrait of a man wholly engrossed in his task.

“I’m done now, thank you for waiting.”

Yoongi’s voice breaks through the ambient sounds of the garage, pulling you from your quiet contemplation. His beaming smile and the way he wipes his oiled hands on his pants are endearing, a testament to his pride in a job well done.

You rise from where you were leaning against a nearby shelf, your own smile mirroring his. With every step you take towards him, it’s not just Holly that’s been repaired; it’s your faith in each other and your ability to navigate life’s unexpected detours.

He pulls you into a warm, oil-scented embrace, his chest pressed against yours. His heartbeat, steady and reassuring, matches the rhythm of your own.

Unable to contain your admiration, you offer a compliment with a playful smile, “I enjoyed watching you work,” but your cheeks betray you with a blush that rises like a cresting wave, “you look hot.”

His fingers, stained with grease and oil, brush gently against your cheek as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, craving the warmth of his rough hands against your skin.

“My hands are dirty, babe.”

He murmurs, his voice a low, husky timbre that sends a thrill through your entire body. He attempts to pull away, to spare you from the grime that clings to his skin.

But you can’t bring yourself to care about the dirt when his touch feels like an electric jolt of desire. With a fierce determination, you reach out and capture his hands, fingers entwining with his in a passionate embrace.

“I don’t care,” you declare, your voice breathless with longing. You pull him closer, your lips meet in a fiery kiss that speaks of desire and a bond too strong to be deterred by something as trivial as dirty hands.

His laughter dances against your lips, a carefree melody that sets your heart ablaze.

You pull back slightly, your eyes meeting his with a mischievous spark.

“Maybe we should take this show on the road,” he suggests, his voice a teasing whisper that sends a thrill through your body. His playful demeanor matches the twinkle in his eyes as he senses the curious gazes of onlookers.

With a soft chuckle, you lean back, breaking the passionate kiss but keeping your connection alive. You both share a knowing look, acknowledging the audience that has unintentionally gathered around. Some wear frowns, their disapproval thinly veiled, while others struggle to look away, curiosity getting the best of them.

After a heartfelt exchange of gratitude with the garage owners, you and Yoongi set out for a local campground nestled just beyond the town’s outskirts.

Holly’s engine hums with a newfound vibrancy, the haunting clicks and pops replaced by a reassuring purr, a testament to Yoongi’s skillful repair work.

As you approach the campground, the world begins to transform.

The air is infused with the earthy scent of the surrounding woods, and the fading sunlight casts a warm, golden hue over the landscape. Tall trees stand sentinel, their rustling leaves whispering secrets of countless stories shared beneath their branches.

Arriving at the campground, you find a secluded spot, the van settling into its new temporary home.

As the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, Yoongi takes charge of creating a campfire. With practiced ease, he gathers dry twigs and kindling, coaxing life into the flames until they crackle and dance in the gathering darkness.

The firelight cast playful shadows, creating an intimate circle of warmth and light.

Together, you prepare a simple yet delicious dinner over the campfire. The scent of roasting marshmallows and the savory aroma of grilled vegetables fills the air, mingling with the smoky fragrance of the crackling wood.

The orange glow of the flames paints your faces in a warm, flickering embrace as you share stories, laughter, and the occasional playful banter.

Despite your best intentions, your contributions to the culinary efforts may have been minimal, but the camaraderie of preparing a meal together adds a touch of charm to the evening.

With satisfied appetites and hearts full of contentment, you both settle in for a restful night’s sleep. The soft rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze plays a soothing lullaby, accompanied by the distant murmur of a nearby stream. Wrapped in your cozy duvets, you drift into dreams beneath the vast, starlit canopy of the night sky.

The next day, you are eager to immerse yourselves in the rich traditions of Andong, a town steeped in history.

As you step onto the cobblestone streets, a sense of timelessness washes over you. Andong has a unique charm, an old-world aura that whispers stories of centuries past. Wandering through the town, you discover quaint hanok houses with curved roofs, each adorned with intricate wooden carvings and papered windows.

The streets are lined with vibrant flowers, their colors popping against the backdrop of ancient buildings. Occasionally, you encounter locals in traditional hanbok attire, a living connection to the town’s heritage.

Though the Mask Festival, a renowned celebration of culture and art, has yet to arrive, the beginning of it was already underway as it is just one week away. Small shops and stalls display intricate masks, some whimsical, others deeply solemn. You can’t resist the allure of these artistic creations and pick up a few as keepsakes.

As the first light of dawn gently kisses the horizon, you wake up to the promise of a new day’s adventure.

The crisp morning air, tinged with the faint aroma of last night’s dinner, fills your senses. With the remnants of a hearty meal beckoning from the campfire’s embers, you decide to start your day with a taste of yesterday’s flavors.

Sitting beside the smoldering fire, you savor the rich and comforting taste of the previous night’s meal. The warmth of the flames caress your skin, contrasting the cool mountain breeze that rustles through the surrounding trees.

Each bite of food is a reminder of the shared moments around the campfire and the anticipation of the journey ahead.

With a satisfied belly, you eagerly prepare for the day’s hike.

Your hiking gear, meticulously chosen for comfort and practicality, awaits its next adventure. As you lace up your sturdy boots, the promise of rugged trails and breathtaking vistas fills your thoughts, igniting a spark of excitement. Your backpack, loaded with essentials, feels like a trusty companion ready to accompany you on this mountain odyssey.

You have heard whispers of the legendary Byongdae cliff and the enchanting Pine Tree Forest that graces these mystical mountains. The tales have woven a tapestry of intrigue in your mind, and now, standing on the precipice of reality, you feel an irresistible pull to explore these fabled wonders.

Your journey begins amidst the towering giants of the Pine Tree Forest, a cathedral of nature’s grandeur. As you step into this tranquil grove, the air is saturated with the earthy scent of pine needles, a fragrant welcome that envelops your senses.

The sun filters through the dense canopy above, casting dappled shadows that dance at your feet.

Each step you take feels like a pilgrimage through a sacred woodland, the ancient trees bearing witness to the passage of time itself. You crane your neck to look up, their lofty branches reaching for the heavens, as if sharing secrets with the sky.

Birds serenade you with their melodic tunes, their songs echoing through the forest like a chorus of hidden muses. With each inhalation, you taste the purity of the forest air, a crisp elixir that invigorates your spirit.

As you wander deeper into this verdant sanctuary, you find yourself in the company of nature’s most exquisite creations. The pine trees stand sentinel, their trunks adorned with mossy tapestries, and their branches, adorned with tufts of emerald needles, sway in a gentle, rhythmic ballet.

Emerging from the woodland, you find yourself at the water’s edge, where the tranquil surface mirrors the cerulean sky above.

Here, a quaint wooden ferry awaits, bobbing gently on the crystal-clear waters.

With each paddle stroke, the boat glides effortlessly, carrying you and Yoongi closer to your next adventure.

The cliff looms ahead, a majestic sentinel of nature’s artistry. Its rugged facade rises from the water like a monolithic masterpiece, adorned with mosses and lichens, a testament to the passage of time. The boat docks at its base, and your anticipation grows.

The ascent up the cliff is a thrilling endeavor, each step revealing a new facet of the picturesque village below. The air is invigorating, infused with the scent of salt and pine, while the distant sounds of village life, like the cheerful chatter of locals and the distant bleating of sheep, waft up to greet you.

With every upward stride, the panorama unfolds, transforming the village into a living, breathing diorama beneath the vast expanse of the cerulean sky.

As you finally conquer the summit, a triumphant sense of achievement washes over you.

The world unfolds before your eyes in a breathtaking panorama, a tapestry of nature’s artistry and the village’s quaint charm.

You find a quiet spot to rest, nestled among the craggy rocks, where the gentle breeze carries with it the scent of adventure and the distant laughter of villagers below. Sitting there, you let the serenity of the moment seep into your bones. The sun bathes you in its golden warmth, the crisp mountain air fills your lungs, and the distant chirping of birds adds a harmonious touch to the symphony of nature.

You close your eyes for a moment, feeling the earth beneath you, grounding yourself in this tranquil haven.

As you gaze from the rugged precipice, your voice slips into a soft, almost reverent whisper, “I’ll miss this so much when our vacation ends,” your eyes tracing the contours of the village sprawled far below.

“Weekend camping trips are always an option.”

Yoongi suggests, his gaze lingering on the delicate contours of your face, taking in your beauty.

You turn to face Yoongi, your eyes sparkling with stars, and a surge of wonder and excitement infusing your voice, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

He nods, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek, his finger lightly tracing over your soft lips, leaving a tantalizing sensation in its wake.

Reluctantly, you begin your descent, your steps lighter now, the memories of the panoramic view etched into your heart. The wooden ferry awaits, its creaking timbers echoing with tales of countless journeys.

As you board, the gentle sway of the boat on the water lulls you into a peaceful reverie. You watch as the cliff recedes into the distance, still an indomitable sentinel against the azure sky.

Returning to the village, you carry with you the sense of wonder and accomplishment that only a day spent among nature’s wonders can bring, a memory that will forever remain etched in your mind.

Your exploration also takes you to a serene temple nestled in the hills. The scent of incense hangs in the air as you marvel at the intricate architecture and the palpable sense of tranquility. Yoongi, always with an appreciation for the cultural significance of such places, captures the moment with his camera, preserving the beauty for eternity.

Fatigued from your adventurous day, you and Yoongi decide it’s time to savor the local flavors of Andong.

A quaint restaurant beckons with the promise of culinary delights. The warm, inviting aroma of simmering spices and savory sauces wafts through the air as you step inside.

Seated at a wooden table, you peruse the menu with eager anticipation. Your eyes fall upon the legendary Andong Soju, its allure heightened by its formidable 40% alcohol content. With a knowing glance exchanged between you and Yoongi, you agree to indulge in moderation, not wanting to let the potent elixir spoil your evening.

As you sip the clear, fiery liquid from small glasses, you can feel the warmth spreading through your veins. The Soju carries the essence of Andong, a taste that hints at the town’s history and traditions, and it adds an extra layer of authenticity to your dining experience.

For dinner, you decide to follow the advice of the locals and order the Jjimdak, a delectable dish that embodies the heart of Korean cuisine. Braised chicken and an array of vibrant vegetables, lovingly marinated in rich Korean soy sauce, arrive at your table. The dish is a burst of colors and textures, a tantalizing blend of sweet and savory flavors that dance on your taste buds.

As you dine, you can’t help but admire the cozy ambiance of the restaurant, filled with the cheerful chatter of fellow diners and the soothing melodies of traditional Korean music playing softly in the background.

The flickering candlelight adds a touch of romance to the atmosphere.

Under the dimly lit Andong streets, you and Yoongi stroll hand in hand, feeling the subtle sway of the evening.

The Andong Soju, though sipped cautiously, has lent a gentle, tipsy euphoria to your steps. The world takes on a dreamlike quality as you navigate the winding paths and narrow alleys. As you walk, the night envelops you in a comforting embrace. The soft glow of streetlights casts warm, golden pools on the cobblestone streets, guiding your way.

The air is alive with the distant murmur of laughter and the melodious hum of crickets, serenading your tipsy journey. You steal glances at Yoongi, his features illuminated by the soft city lights. His eyes sparkle with a shared secret, and his smile, slightly crooked from the Soju’s influence, is irresistibly endearing.

Every touch of his hand in yours sends delightful shivers through your tipsy senses.

As you approach Holly, it stands as a steadfast companion, a haven of familiarity in the midst of the Andong night. You pause for a moment, swaying gently together, and share a soft, lingering kiss beneath the moonlight.

The taste of Yoongi and Soju lingers on your lips.

With your hearts light and spirits high, you finally settle into Holly, ready for a restful night’s sleep. The world outside may spin with a tipsy enchantment, but in each other’s arms, you find balance and serenity, cherishing the memories created in the charming town of Andong.

A few days before your planned rendezvous with Joonie, Jinie, and Hobi in Daejeon, you embark on a detour to Gumi, a place of natural beauty and tranquility.

Your destination is the enchanting Geumosan Reservoir, a serene oasis nestled amidst rolling hills and lush forests. As you approach the reservoir, the scent of pine and earth fills the air, awakening your senses to the wilderness that lies ahead.

The anticipation builds in your chest, knowing that an adventure awaits you amidst the pristine landscape.

Upon arrival, you’re greeted by the shimmering waters of the reservoir, reflecting the azure sky like a flawless mirror. The surrounding hills are cloaked in vibrant shades of green, and the soft rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze becomes your symphony.

You and Yoongi don your hiking gear, ready to explore the intricate network of trails that wind through this natural wonder.

The first step onto the trail sends a jolt of excitement through you as the earth crunches beneath your boots, and you feel the rhythm of nature beneath your feet. The hike takes you along paths that meander through dense woods, opening up to breathtaking vistas that steal your breath away.

The cool breeze carries the sweet aroma of wildflowers, and the distant call of birds adds a melodic soundtrack to your journey.

Yoongi’s hand in yours provides a reassuring anchor as you both marvel at the splendor of nature.

Each step forward feels like an adventure, a shared exploration of the world’s wonders.

After a day of hiking, you find a serene spot near the reservoir’s edge to rest. You sit side by side, feet dangling above the crystal-clear water, and share a quiet moment of awe. The world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the beauty that surrounds you.

“I just love nature,” Yoongi murmurs, leaning gently against your shoulder, his words carrying a sense of serenity, “the tranquility, the freedom to wander and reflect on life.”

You exhale audibly, your voice brimming with happiness, “I completely understand,” you say, your hand finding its way to his thigh, “This getaway is exactly what I needed to escape from the stresses of work,” you add, resting your head against his shoulder and savoring the moment.

He hums in contentment, “Indeed, it sounded like you were in desperate need of a break,” he says, his voice soft and reassuring.

“Yeah, you know I genuinely love my job, but recently the stress has really taken its toll.”

You say, your voice tinged with a hint of disappointment. You can’t help but feel conflicted about your career, torn between your passion for it and the overwhelming stress it sometimes brings.

“I’m grateful this trip has been a relief,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. His words carry a warmth that reassures you, making you appreciate the escape from your daily pressures even more.

You exhale softly, your fingers finding comfort in his, and ask, “What’s your next destination in mind?”

Your eyes meet his, filled with anticipation for the adventures yet to come.

He starts rambling with an endearing enthusiasm, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I heard about a science center nearby. I know neither of us is a science geek, but I thought it might still be a lot of fun,” he says, his smile revealing those charming gums of his. You can’t help but find it absolutely adorable.

“I’m up for it. Honestly, everything with you is a blast, so I’m all in,” you reply, your voice filled with enthusiasm. You turn your head and punctuate your agreement with a passionate kiss, locking lips with his soft, inviting ones.

Although science has never been your forte, you decide to pay a visit to the local Science Center in Gumi.

As you step into this world of discovery and innovation, you’re pleasantly surprised by the sense of wonder that envelops you. Together with Yoongi, you explore the center’s myriad exhibits, each one a gateway to the extraordinary.

The museum’s interactive displays and hands-on activities offer a chance to hold hands with your boyfriend while delving into the mysteries of the universe.

One exhibit captures your attention—a dazzling planetarium show that transports you to distant galaxies. With the domed ceiling overhead, you and Yoongi recline in cushioned seats, your fingers intertwined, and watch as stars and constellations come to life, painting the cosmos with their celestial beauty.

The immersive experience ignites a newfound curiosity within you, as you realize that science has the power to evoke awe and inspire even to those who never thought they’d be interested.

Leaving the Science Center, you walk hand in hand, the spark of connection between you and Yoongi shining brighter than ever.

As the day unfolds, you and Yoongi decide to hit the bowling alley.

You both step into those classic rented shoes, each pair slightly too large, and claim your own lane, creating a private haven for laughter and competition. The joy of the game isn’t just in the strikes and spares but in the shared experience.

Yoongi, with his effortless bowling prowess, takes the lead. He patiently guides you, showing you how to hold the ball and improve your stance. Despite his best efforts, your balls still veer off course, but it hardly matters. What truly matters is the closeness you share. With each instruction he gives, his hands gently brush against yours, fingers lingering just a moment longer.

You cherish these stolen moments of connection, realizing that it’s not about perfect strikes but the perfect touch and laughter that make this game unforgettable. As the pins clatter and balls roll, you’re grateful for the opportunity to have fun together, even if it means embracing your ineptitude at bowling.

As your journey alone with Yoongi approaches its final destination, you find yourself in Yeongdong, a place where nature’s grandeur unfolds in breathtaking ways. Your destination?

The enchanting Wolrybong peak, a majestic mountain that seems to touch the sky itself.

The ascent is filled with moments of awe as you navigate through winding trails, surrounded by lush, verdant forests. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth, invigorating your senses with each breath. The trail occasionally opens up, revealing glimpses of the surrounding cliffs and pristine waters below, a mesmerizing sight that leaves you spellbound.

Upon reaching the summit, you find yourself standing on the edge of the world, overlooking a vast expanse of untouched beauty.

Cliffs stand tall and proud, their rugged faces meeting the azure waters that stretch as far as the eye can see. It’s a scene that defies description, and for a moment, you feel like you’re part of a painting, a tiny speck in the grand canvas of nature.

In those tranquil moments, the world fades away, leaving you and Yoongi with nothing but the majesty of nature surrounding you. You take it all in, cherishing this time together.

As the sun sets behind the peaks, casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape, you can’t help but feel grateful for the opportunity to witness such beauty and to share it with the one you love.

As the days wind down to the end of your adventurous journey, you decide to indulge in a well-deserved period of relaxation. Nestled in the cozy confines of Holly, you and Yoongi find solace in quiet moments together. The gentle hum of nature outside, the soft rustling of leaves, and the distant chirping of birds create a soothing symphony.

Wrapped in each other’s warmth, you savor the simple pleasure of just being together. The world outside may be bustling with activity, but within your private haven, time slows down, allowing you to bask in the tranquility that surrounds you.

There’s a contented sigh as you lean into Yoongi’s comforting embrace, the soft rhythm of his heartbeat echoing in sync with yours.

Holly’s interior becomes your sanctuary, a place where laughter, stories, and stolen kisses create an intimate bond that feels like a haven of love.

As the time comes to drive to Daejeon to reunite with your friends, you do so with hearts full of cherished memories and a renewed sense of connection.

The journey continues, but now it’s not just about the places you visit; it’s about the love and experiences you carry with you, making every mile of the road a testament to your new official relationship.

→ Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I appreciate every like, comment and reblog, and please don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜 → Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts, @constancelayon, @wobblewobble822, @ktownshizzle, @moonchild1, @ultimatefangirl0, @baechugff, @jimintaemin, @parapiop7, @fckkntired, @iluvfndms, @citypop-princess, @tarahardcore, @bergandysam, @massivelyfullenthusiast, @tatyhend *strikethrough means tumblr isn’t letting me tag you :(

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