#i hope they make it to n1 this year

[yume-fanfare]

ryst trip and lxl album release within the same 7 days anime boys FIGHT!!!!!!

[fangirl-dot-com]

🎮 Go Outside and Touch Some Grass

*part of the best of both worlds series*

Driver: Max Verstappen Genre: SMAU/Fluff Occupation: Streamer

☆ TAG LIST IS CLOSED ☆ *if you were not tagged I could not find you*

f1wags has posted

liked by y/nsworld, streamermax, and 3,204 others

f1wags in honor of max reaching 1 million subscribers on twitch, here is a little biography for the new fans

max emilian verstappen is a dutch streamer most known for his hilarious sim racing and trying to play call of duty. max has been dating red bull's number 1 driver, y/n l/n, since late 2021. he is 26 years old, only 3 years older than y/n. as of right now, he lives in Monaco with l/n in their shared apartment, but does have another house in the Netherlands close to his mom (y/n and he go there often).

the pair has two bengal cats, jimmy and sassy, that they both love.

max was most known for dating model kelly piquet from 2019 to early 2021, but the couple had a mutual breakup. max first met y/n at a fan event after max placed first in one of the first Red Bull F1 challenges. everyone says they hit it off during summer break.

a little hidden fact is that max used to kart with Ferrari's Charles Leclerc when they were younger. an interview video resurfaced and many fans now love to tease the two whenever they're seen together. click here for the link!

max is very well loved in the f1 community since he is l/n's second public boyfriend. they couple are very private but not hidden, just the way they like it. please treat our cat loving wag well!

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y/nl/n1 has posted

liked by maxverstappen, y/nsworld, and 2,304,930 others

y/nl/n1 and that's number 9! simply lovely to have equaled my record once again this year! hoping I can hit 10 and 11 during this triple header!

thank you to all who came out today. you mean the world to me 🧡

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maxverstappen I love you schatje! keep up the good work 🧡

y/nl/n1 🧡😘

y/n.nation every time I try to beat max to the likes but he's always there first

maxs_keyboard I was once just a fan of max, but I'm glad I'm an f1 fan now!

simracersunite anyone else here from that tweet this past weekend? didn't even know this sport existed

cashmoney meeeee! but now that I've seen this queen dominate a lot of men, I'm here for her now

charles_leclerc maybe let us make some new records?

y/nl/n1 how about you just start winning more? 🧐

maxverstappen what she said Charles ☺️

charles_leclerc I will cause another incident max 😒

redbullracing that's our girl 🧡💙

maxverstappen no. mine.

y/nsworld congrats queen 👑

maxverstappen has posted

liked by y/nl/n1, maxverSTOPen, and 23,209 others

maxverstappen glad to be back in the paddock to cheer on my lovely girlfriend! thank you redbullracing for the invite :D

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maxverSTOPen EVERY TIME I TRY TO BEAT Y/N AND SHE'S ALREADY HERE???

streammv was glad to see you on the big screen max!

maximillianver GUYS WHAT ARE ALL THESE F1 FANS DOING IN THE LIKES

maxsworld 🤺 stay back we had him first

y/nl/n1 my lucky charm 🥰

maxverstappen I think you can win without me but thank you 🥺

twitchoverall what's next, someone is going to tell me that Lando Norris is also an f1 driver and not just a streamer??

ln4fan uh mate, I think you need to sit down for this one

maxskeyboard HAPPY 1 MILLION SUBS MAX

y/nl/n1 has posted

liked by y/nschild, maxverstappen, dior, and 3,203,847 others

y/nl/n1 quick back home before Silverstone!

max wouldn't get off his stream tho, so I had to kidnap him (sorry twitch)

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y/nschild LET IT BE KNOWN I WAS HERE BEFORE MAX

charles_leclerc let me know if jimmy and sassy want to have a play date with Leo 😊

y/nl/n1 definitely soon Charlie! maybe summer break?

maxverstappen our children are not going to play with that dog

y/nl/n1 but maaxxx, they can be besties 🥺

charles_lerclerc 🥺

maxverstappen fine. one playdate is all you get leclerc.

maxsworld I guess we can't gatekeep max anymore 😭

max&kelly I still think max could do better 🙄

biggestkellyhater please rethink your statement. kelly was borderline a pedophile and max was so depressed he didn't stream for months. we should be thanking y/n for making max the happiest he has ever been

y/nxmax and that's on PERIOD 💅

verstappencats awwww jimmy and sassy update 🥺

streamonmax sooooo when is the next stream king?

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[pedroshotwifey]

Idk if you still do those nsfw requests... but if you do, can I request Nr 39 and either Din? Because I feel like din would be so taken aback by everything, as he just seems like a virgin at heart (sorry not sorry🥲)

Hi baby!! Don't you know sub/virgin Din is my specialty? 😏 I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy!!

Pairing: Innocent!Din Djarin x GN!reader

Warnings: premature ejaculation, grinding, innocence kink, embarrassment, stuff I'm probably forgetting

Word count: 927

Cramped

*****

��Din, I really don’t think there’s enough room in that thing for all three of us,” you admit. 

“No, look,” he walks over to the small ship and points at the bubble on top. It appears to be a repurposed droid pit. “Grogu will sit up here.” 

You bite your tongue and nod, not wanting to let him down but knowing you need to explain that it’s just not going to happen. The N1 is a big downgrade from the Crest, but you can’t blame him for trying to make it work. 

“That’s really smart, but look at the cockpit.”

You watch as his helm turns to the small, single seater cockpit. 

“What do you mean?” 

You resist the urge to just stare at him. What does he mean ‘what do you mean’? 

“Din, do you really want to travel for days at a time cramped in that thing with me? I’d practically have to be in your lap.” You ignore the way your cheeks heat as a crude image pops into your head. You’ve been painfully aware of Din’s innocence for as long as you’ve been flying with him, but this is next-level. Does he really not get why this may be a problem? 

“It’ll be fine,” he says. “We can stop more often if we need to.” 

You sigh at him, about to bring up the fact that you’ll be wasting a ton of fuel if you stop every day you’re traveling. 

“Here, I’ll show you.” 

“Din, I–” 

“Just try it, please?” 

He’s already lifting the seal and getting in, settling himself in the pilot’s chair. He shifts his hips and spreads his thighs as he gets comfortable and makes room for you. It makes your mouth go dry. He’s a few years older than you, but absolutely fucking clueless. 

He says your name when you don’t move from the spot you’re standing in. “C’mon,” he motions his hand for you to come take a seat. You chew on your lip for a second but decide to indulge him. You’ll just have to be careful. 

You grab his hand and let him help hoist you up, bringing you to stand between his legs and then lower down. You make sure to shift down a bit so that your ass is on the edge of the seat instead of against his crotch. Of course, though, Din’s hands come to your hips to drag you toward him, getting the two of you flush to each other. 

You can feel heat in the tips of your ears now as you’re pulled over him slightly. You know he’s just trying to make sure you’re comfortable, but his efforts have the opposite effect when you can feel his soft cock pressing against you. Your body stiffens and you bite your lip, sending a prayer up the maker that it stays that way. 

The bulge is fucking impressive, you’re not going to lie. You’ve caught glances of it before—intentional or not—but this is insane. 

You try to subtly move yourself off of him the tiniest bit, more to relieve the pressure to his appendage than anything else. He lets you do so, but not much with his hands still on your hips with nowhere else to go. Then he moves them to your thighs, one resting on each. Okay, maybe they did have somewhere else to go. 

Another image shoves it’s way into your head, this one of his hands further between your legs, no barrier between the two of you as he uses one of them to—

You shake yourself out of it, squirming as you silently scold yourself. 

“See? It’s fi—” 

He chokes on his words as your ass brushes against him, the brief friction something he’s not used to. 

“Fuck, sorry,” you apologize frantically, trying to get up off of him so you don’t make him uncomfortable. You can already feel him stiffening. He moans softly and his hips shift a little as well, causing even more rubbing on parts that do not need to be rubbing. His hands tense on your thighs, holding you to him so you can’t move. You yelp, unsure of how to get out of this predicament without stirring him further. 

“What the fuck? Do that again. I liked it.” 

Your jaw drops. 

“W-what?” 

“Do that again. What was that?” 

“I–” 

He bucks his hips again, stimulating his now fully hardened cock. 

“Mph, that.” 

“I-Din, I don’t think you unders–” 

But he does it again, and you can feel arousal stirring within you despite yourself. He ruts up, a moan crackling through his modulator. His hands grasp harshly as he starts to grind against you. 

“D-Din–” 

Suddenly, he groans behind you, his body tensing and trembling as your face floods with embarrassment. You can feel his cock twitching and pulsing, a wet spot forming in his flight suit. It goes on for longer than you’ve ever seen before. You throb with want between your legs as you listen to him come down from his orgasm.

The two of you sit in silence, Din panting slightly as you try to process what just happened. 

“Cyar’ika?” 

You swallow. “Yes, Din?” 

“W-what was that?” 

“You just came,” you explain, trying to keep your hoarse voice loud enough for him to hear. 

“Oh,” he says, though you can tell he has no idea what the fuck you just said.

“Can I do it again?” 

You let out a shaky breath and turn your head slightly his way, knowing you’re not getting out of this explanation.

*****

Here’s the link to the prompt list if anyone else would like to request 🫶

[dangermousie]

My favorite dramas of first quarter of 2024

We are a quarter in, so time for a list. Once again, my subjective list, blah blah blah.

10. Destiny (Japan) - drama as only Japan does it - melancholy, secrets, complications and a messy relationship that is irresistible.

9. In Blossom (China) - somehow, this feels like a cracky, delicious web novel come to life and it's so beautiful to watch, to boot.

8. Unknown (Taiwan) - a quiet, slice of life BL that often feels like peeking at real people.

7. Fortune Writer (China) - smart and surprising, this has both really grey protagonists and an interesting story about fighting the narrative.

6. Goryeo Khitan War (Korea) - an old school war and politics epic in every sense of the word, with uniformly amazing acting.

5. Derailment (China) - a rare cdrama modern I love, this one kept at the edge of my seat both due to plot and the insane OTP chemistry.

4. Lovely Runner (Korea) - time travel, second chance romance, high school love, celebrities - it throws in all the tropes and makes them fresh.

3. The Legend of Shen Li (China) - I rarely like xianxia because I often find it cliche and emotionally unengaging. This one made me care desperately and genuinely not know where it's going. If you watch only one xianxia (that's not CLJ), make it this one.

2. Eternal Brotherhood (China) - smart, funny, bleak, visually out of this world story about friendship and war and politics and trauma and love and just - AAAAA! It would be in serious running as my n1 not just of the quarter but the year except for:

1. Tender Light (China) - yes, a modern cdrama is my favorite for the quarter and likely for the year. The world is indeed about to end. This is as if an arthouse movie was a drama. Or perhaps a jdrama and a BBC prestige production had a baby with a dash of Jorge Amado's darker novels like Teresa Batista - I am naming all my favorite things because it is all my favorite things. The emotion, the twists, the bleak view of the world with a shred of hope, the cinematography, the acting. This is a perfect drama, the end.

[tessa-liam]

The One Who Got Away 

Thank you @kyra75 for your ask --  Prompt #4, ‘This is all my fault’ for @choicesprompts – Angstgiving Event 

Choices Book: The Royal Romance, Book 2 

Pairing: Liam Rys x Riley Brooks (F!MC) 

Rating: mature 

Category: angst/fluff, one-shot, ask/prompt 

Words 3.5k, with sprinkles of Canon 

A/N1: not Beta’d, please excuse all errors 

Premise: Liam and Riley are in love, but due to circumstances, they are pulled apart. Riley leaves Cordonia to go back home to New York, heartbroken. Liam marries Madeleine, reluctantly, to fulfill his duty as King. A year later, while visiting New York, Liam runs into Riley.... 

ONE YEAR AGO ...

New York. The place where dreams come true. The Statue of Liberty. The Empire State Building. Central Park. 

As the limousine pulled up in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, a sea of reporters and cameras flooded the sidewalk, all desperate to catch a glimpse of the young King of Cordonia. 

He'd arrived in New York earlier that day to spend the next two weeks on a goodwill tour, courtesy of his PR team. He'd already spent several days in Washington, DC, before stopping by a few other major US cities. New York City was the grand finale. 

King Liam stepped out of the limousine, his personal security flanking him, and walked into the throng of reporters. He was met with a barrage of flashing cameras, blinding him. His bodyguards tried their best to hold the crowd back. 

"Your Majesty! Over here! Look over here, please!" 

Liam put on his most dazzling smile and waved, walking towards the doors, surrounded by the press. 

"What are you hoping to accomplish during your stay in New York?" 

"Who will be accompanying you?" 

"Do you have a message for the people of Cordonia?" 

"King Liam! What is the state of the relationship between your country and the US?" 

"Will you be making any important announcements soon?" 

Liam smiled politely at the reporters, but refused to comment on their questions. He reached the top of the steps leading into the museum, and stopped for a moment, taking in the view. It was a gorgeous, but chilly,  November day in New York. The trees had long since lost their leaves and were now a dark brown, contrasting with the gray skies above. The weather had forced most New Yorkers to stay indoors. 

Liam glanced at his watch. It was 10:45 am. 

"Your Majesty? The exhibit is waiting for you." One of the museum staff motioned him inside. 

Liam walked through the massive, imposing entrance doors and made his way through the crowd of museum visitors, down the marble-floored hallway, towards the room where the exhibit was waiting for him. 

The museum staff, dressed in black-and-white, were all huddled near the door, whispering excitedly amongst themselves. 

"This is going to be a huge draw for our museum." 

"I can't believe they let us borrow these artifacts." 

"We're lucky the King agreed to open the exhibit." 

Liam cleared his throat and the museum staff immediately stood at attention. 

"Welcome, Your Majesty. We're honored you're here," the museum director bowed in respect.

"Thank you, but there's no need for all the formality," Liam smiled warmly. "Please, please call me Liam." 

The museum staff beamed as the director held out his arm to escort Liam into the gallery.

"If you'll please follow me, Your Ma—, uh, Liam. We've prepared the exhibit for your inspection. Please take as much time as you'd like." 

Liam followed into the spacious, exhibition room, his personal security standing outside. The staff were bustling around, checking the artifacts and displays. Liam took a few steps further into the room, and his breath hitched in his throat. 

At the end of the room, on a plinth, was a large display case, with a crown encased inside. It was a golden circlet, embellished with rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. 

The Queen's Crown of Cordonia. 

He recognized it immediately. It had belonged to his mother, Queen Eleanor, before she had died. She had never had a chance to wear it. 

Liam's hands were trembling, and his knees were weak. He slowly approached the crown, his eyes fixed on it. The last time he'd seen this crown was at his mother's funeral. After that, it had been kept locked away in the Royal Treasury. He'd thought it would stay there forever. 

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" came a familiar voice. 

Liam's head snapped up and his heart skipped a beat. 

There, standing in front of him, was the love of his life. 

Riley. 

He couldn't believe his eyes. What was she doing here? 

"Riley," Liam gasped, taking a few shaky steps towards her. 

They stood inches from each other, but neither could make a move. There were a million thoughts running through each of their minds, but they couldn't utter a single word. 

"You look stunning," Liam finally said, breaking the silence. 

Riley blushed. "I didn't realize you'd personally be here." 

"My PR team set up this visit."  Liam softly spoke.

"I'm glad they did." Riley nervously responded.

They both stood in silence, staring at each other. 

Liam took a step closer and reached for her hand. 

"I've missed you," he whispered. 

"Me too," Riley replied, squeezing his hand. 

They gazed into each other's eyes, their hearts filled with longing and desire; even after all the time apart.

"Liam, I..." Riley started to say. 

"What is it, Riley?" 

"Nothing. It's just...I'm happy to see you." 

"I'm happy to see you, too," Liam said. "And I'm sorry, about everything." 

"It wasn't your fault." Looking down, Riley shook her head.

"Yes, it was. I should've done more. I should've fought harder. This is all my fault" 

"No. Liam, don't blame yourself." 

"But I do." 

Moving their conversation to a secluded alcove, Riley placed her hands on his cheeks. "None of this was your fault. You did the right thing. And you're an amazing King. You're the best King Cordonia has ever had. You made the right decision." 

"But I lost you." 

"It was my choice, Liam. I chose to walk away. I chose to leave." 

"Why?" Liam searched Riley's eyes for an answer.

"Because I knew you would never choose me over your duty. And I would've never forgiven myself if I forced you to make that choice. That would've been too selfish of me. You were always going to make the right decision for your country. And that's what made me fall in love with you." 

"Riley, I—" 

"Wait, Liam, before you say anything... there's something I need to tell you. It's important." 

Liam frowned. "What is it?" 

Riley hesitated for a moment, then looked up into his eyes. Closing her eyes, her heart was pounding inside her chest. "I was pregnant." 

The color drained from Liam's face. He stared at her in shock. "What did you just say?"  Liam didn't trust his hearing.

"I was pregnant, with our baby. I found out right after the coronation." 

Liam couldn't believe what he was hearing, shaking his head, no. He was completely stunned. He couldn't speak. 

"I didn't know how to tell you," Riley continued. "So I didn't. I was afraid of what you'd say. Of how you'd react. I didn't want to ruin your life. So I kept it a secret." 

"Riley, why didn't you tell me?" Liam asked, his voice hoarse. 

"I don't know. I guess I was scared. Scared of what you'd think. Scared that you'd hate me. I'm sorry, Liam. I should've told you. But I didn't want to put you in a difficult position. I didn't want to force you to make a choice. That's why I left. I knew that if I told you, you'd try to figure something out, and I couldn't let that happen. Not when the future of your kingdom was at stake." 

Liam was speechless. His heart was pounding. 

"I didn't want to ruin your life," Riley said again, her voice breaking. "It was all my fault." 

"How could you say that? Riley?" Liam was heartbroken.

"What do you mean? It was my fault. I was the one who got pregnant. I was the one who kept it a secret. I was the one who left."  Riley covered her face with her shaking hands.

"No. Riley, it's not your fault. It was my mine. I should've protected you. I should've done more. But instead, I failed you. I'm so sorry, Riley." 

Riley shook her head. "No. Liam, don't. Please don't. It's not your fault." 

Liam wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "It's okay, Riley. It's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you. Not ever." 

[present day] 

Liam's eyes slowly opened and he was greeted with the sight of his sleeping wife. He was lying on his side, facing her, his arm draped over her waist. She looked peaceful. Her hair was splayed across the pillow and her lips were slightly parted. 

Liam gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. She stirred a little, but didn't wake up. 

He smiled to himself. 

They were together. They had another baby on the way. He'd done the right thing. 

His kingdom would be safe. His people would be safe. His family would be safe.

Everything was going to be all right. 

And yet, he couldn't help but wonder what might have been. If he had known Riley was pregnant; when she had left after the coronation... would things have turned out differently? Would they have chosen a different path? Would he have married Riley instead of Madeleine? Scandal be damned.

Or would the same thing have happened? Would he have still made the same decision, to choose his kingdom over his heart? 

It was too late to find out. 

He couldn't go back. 

He didn't have to.

***

🌹Thank you for reading.

📌 @choicesficwriterscreations @choicescommunityevents @choicesprompts @choicesmonthlychallenge

📌 @bascmve01 @busywoman @kristinamae093 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kingliam2019 @ao719 @alj4890 @emkay512 @karahalloway @twinkleallnight @malblk21 @tinkie1973 @queenmiarys @emersyn-in-cordonia @dutifullynuttywitch @charlotteg234 @lovingchoices14 @selina012 @kyra75 @imjusthereforliam @703cowbarn @irisk12 @imashybish @walkerdrakewalker @jared2612 @fadingreveries @mockingjay19 @queenwalton @thosehallowedhalls @umccall71 @rafasgirl23415 @mainstreetreader @shanzay44 @custaroonie @guineveresgarden @ownworldresident @amandablink @choicesfrog @mysticalfangirl @iluaaa @belencha77

[gloomyclauds]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!! 🥳 I'm turning 28 years old, my god! I wanted to give you something, as a thank you for the support I've been getting here ❤️

This here is a sim that I made for the Sour Legacy Challenge, which I recommend you all to check out! Sadly all I've done was make this sim... I'm still waiting, and hoping, that we'll get actual bands in the game someday *sigh* She's a teen, I would say she's 16 or older, that's why she has piercings 😅 Also, if her parents are around, I picture them as being permissive, because the challenge requires her to drop out of high school at some point. In a way, she's everything I wanted to be as a teen, and isn't that what the sims is for? To live a dream? 😆

I'm also going to be seeing Olivia Rodrigo this next month, and if you don't know, the Sour Legacy Challenge is based on her album Sour. The excitement just made me want to pick this sim up again, and give her a quick makeover. The song that inspired this sim was Brutal, although I had the first lyric of Boys & Girls by Conan stuck in my head while I was making her.

Keep Reading for the FULL CC LIST ⬇️

GENERAL Skin Color | Skinblend | Misc. Face Details | Skin Detail Blush | Little Details | Face Light and Pores | Skintone Set | Eyebags | Freckles | More Nosemasks | Left Dimple | Lip Mask | Teeth | Eyebrows (Husky) | Hair Overlay

DEFAULTS Skinblend | Eyes | Feet | No EA Lashes

PRESETS Lips | Chin

SLIDERS Eyebrows (1) (2) | Glasses | Nose (1) (2) | Chin | Feet

MAKEUP Eyelids (N12) | Eyeliner | Blush | Lipstick (1) (2) | Lipgloss | Eyelashes (N1 & N2) | 3D Eyelashes | Manicure | Pedicure

EVERYDAY Hair | Necklace | Top | Jeans | Sneakers

FORMAL Hair | Choker | Hair Accessories | Dress | Tights | Socks | Boots

ATHLETIC Headset | Hair | Top | Pants | Sneakers

SLEEP Hair | Shirt | Socks

PARTY Hair | Choker | Top | Jeans | Sneakers

SWIMWEAR Glasses | Earrings | Hair | Bikini

HOT WEATHER Hat | Necklace | Hair | Pimple Patches | Top | Shorts | Shoes

COLD WEATHER Hat | Scarf | Accessory Top | Dress | Tights | Boots

POSES 1st Image | 2nd and 3rd Image (1) (2)

A huge thanks to the cc creators!

@lamatisse @mousysims @okruee @glitchsyndrome @nesurii

@faaeish @vibrantpixels @miikocc @sims3melancholic @sammi-xox

@yooniesim @twisted-cat @joshseoh @its-adrienpastel @magic-bot

@kijiko-sims @shsims @absolutelyiconic @obscurus-sims @northernsiberiawinds

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@joliebean @clumsyalienn @aharris00britney @sentate @sforzcc

@daylifesims @arethabee @imvikai @trillyke @nickname-sims4

@sehablasimlish @literalite @pralinesims @aladdin-the-simmer @serenity-cc

@caio-cc @littlesimzbeezcc @jius-sims @madlensims @nolan-sims

@wildlyminiaturesandwich @akuiyumi @katverse @remaron @mossylane

[hoodjam]

coastal love

a/n1: hey babies, I missed you all so much!! I’ve been so busy but I’m here with an actual story! this is something new for me so I hope yall enjoy 🩷

warnings : tw: death, nudity, very short

The lone sailor waded in the waters, desperately fishing for the deep sea fish that was rumored in the area.

“Damn, fish! I almost had it on the hook when it swam off on me,” the man pouts, slightly sour he blindly follows the fish into the deep blue ocean.

“fuck me, it’s gettin’ dark too, damn, fuck shi-“

“HELP ME!” A woman screamed, sending shivers down the sailor's spine. “SOMEONE, PLEASE.”

A sudden feeling of heroism fell over the man, sending him to stand in his tiny boat looking for any signs of a distressed woman. Scanning the area he saw her, hair wet, clothes tattered, as she clung to a rock with her last strength.

Adrenaline raced through his body, beginning his paddling to rescue the lady.

During your frantic screaming to be saved, you noticed the man rowing towards you, and your heart was filled with relief. “Thank you, sir,” you coughed out, showing him your pearly teeth.

“No worries, but what’s a lady like you in waters like this?” The sailor questions, after stopping his boat near the rock.

You stay silent, watching the man reach his hand towards you to help you into the boat.

“Oh, I was in a bad shipwreck nearby. The storm swept me and my mates away. I’m the only survivor.” You explain, reaching your hand to meet his.

But he pauses, “Hm? A storm? There hasn’t been a storm in a few weeks,” He stares at you, slowly reaching his spear, “there’s no way you swam for that long.”

The sailor grips his spear, mind reeling that more than just deep sea fish is real.

In an instant, your eyes flicker black, as you leap out of the water tackling the man into the ocean. Your tail bright blue, shimmering in the sun was the last thing the man saw.

Deep hunky laughter fills the air, men scattered across the deck, as the vessel they ride on glides on the sea.

“Men! Tonight we celebrate a successful loot of the ocean’s treasure,” the captain of the crew states. His shoulder was broad with years of experience, mouth curled in a smirk not even his scar could taint.

“Once we port, we’ll enjoy the lands’ women! But tonight we drink!”

“Aye!” His men exclaim, mugs already filled with the golden liquor, which makes them light on their feet.

However, before the festivities could start, a drop of rain landed on the captain’s face. Frowning, he looked around his vessel seeing the swirling clouds heading in their direction.

“Men get into positions, we have a storm to bear.”

Without any questions, his crew stationed themselves throughout the ship, with Toji at the helm.

“Gojo! String up the sails, Geto strap down the loose food and drinks, and Sukuna, be ready for any repairs.” Toji barked more orders to his team, a team he trusted with his life.

Heading to the helm he turned the wooden wheel away from the storm, bracing himself, preparing for the worst.

Underwater, you smiled with glee, “What a feast,” you thought.

The storm was a beast, bigger and angrier than any sea creature they’d fought. With all his might he kept the stern face opposite of the storm, but his strength was failing.

“Prepare to “ the captain was interrupted, feeling his gravity shift as his boat capsized. The last thing he seen was his men flipping before his head hit a beam, knocking him unconscious.

The storm ravaged the pirate's ship, throwing bodies and debris across the darkened sea. Eager for your first bite, you greedily swam through the waters dodging everything except the lone barrel that fell from the sky.

Toji woke up on some sandy shore, the back of his head throbbing in pain from his injury. Getting up with a stumble, his eyes burning from the bright sun hinting at a new day.

He walks the coast, looking for any hints of survivors from his crew, “Is that?”

The captain gasps, seeing you lie on the same beach he washed up on, unconscious, naked, and shimmering with a blue hue.

a/n2 : I hoped you guys enjoyed, feedback is always appreciated.

a/n3 : also, no shade, but I’m so tired of the short ass fics!!! let’s get back into long stories 😩 anyway lmk if yall want a part two

[tales-of-kaylor]

You said you're going to the shows in Vienna right? Who are you going with and are you wearing costumes? What are your dream surprise songs? Sorry for all the questions, I swear I'm not trying to be creepy lol

Yes! I‘m going N1 with my wife (still can’t believe I get to call her that 😱) and N3 with my wife, my best friend, my brother and his girlfriend. My brother and my best friend gifted me Loverfest tickets for my 30th birthday and I was heartbroken when that got canceled 😩 I’m a little sad that we won’t be able to sit together because there was a purchase limit of 4 tickets BUT I‘m so excited I finally get to see Taylor!

For N1 I‘m recreating/combining Taylor‘s garden gate outfits. I‘m wearing a similar dress (but mine is yellow - because ☀️ ☺️) and a heartshaped purse.

I also found these eye theory inspired earrings that I‘ll wear. @9w1ft might appreciate those.

For N3 I‘m not sure if I‘ll dress up but I have a hat with a daisy on it ☺️

As for surprise songs, I don’t really know. I love them all tbh. Cornelia Street is one I‘d love to hear live and it’s fun because C & S are my wife‘s and my initials. King of my Heart would be great too because I love the bridge and my wife and I have been arguing over who‘s the king in our household for years 😂 And today I randomly listened to The Great War and Change and think that would make an amazing mashup.

But I know nothing about music and I‘ll leave it up to Taylor to choose (as if my blog was big enough to actually be on Taylor’s radar 😂). I just hope she chooses songs that she really wants to do and doesn’t just do them because that’s what we want. I‘m there for the fun and her story - whichever way she chooses to tell it 💛

[ahundredtimesover]

Untitled | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: idolverse (no explicit mentions of BTS), strangers au; angst, smut

Warnings: foul language, inexplicit smut (making out, non-descriptive penetrative sex) (18+)

Word count: 16k

Summary: For years as a sculptor, you felt detached from your own work - unable to title them, describe them, name the most basic emotions that artists should be in tune with. A chance encounter with a man one winter night finds you in a journey of finding your own meaning. And as you slowly discover what it means to create and to feel, you find out that this might also be what pulls both of you far apart.

A/N1: It’s been tough being on a writing slump and not being able to come up with something new, but then Indigo happened. I’ve been so into Closer and been wanting to write something that would encapsulate the song’s emotions, but the more I listened to NJ talk about his album (especially Yun), the more I got to reflect on so many other things. So here we are. This was a quick write (and an experiment, too!) filled with my own ramblings and questions that only one Kim Namjoon would prompt me to have. Please enjoy.

A/N2: I’m not an artist, but I’m fascinated by them and what they create (Van Gogh’s Digital Art Exhibition in the LUME, Melbourne from last September just blew my away). In another life, I probably would’ve been a collector. But the essence of humanity in my professional work links to my own appreciation of art in that sense. All the things that I wonder about life and the essence of being human are reflected here. I’ve taken from Namjoon’s reflections and insights as well, and once again, I was reminded of his brilliance and his heart.

2020, early winter 

A little boy with a bucket painting stars in the sky.

That’s what this season’s artwork on the side of the building is. Just this fall, it was a girl raising a paper airplane on this exact spot; in the summer, it was another kid on a swing, and in spring, it was a child with an opened suitcase, their toys falling out and drifting into a stream. 

Lost childhood, perhaps. That’s what happens when the world stands still, Namjoon thinks. He’d written a song about it - the things we lost during the time when time froze, and maybe just like these paintings, life continued to go on. The yearning remains, though, and he can see it on the piece that he’s been looking at for minutes now. 

Maybe the artist is young, mourning their own youth that slipped from their fingers. Maybe it’s someone a little older, mourning it for others. Maybe it’s just a person who’s trying to understand the situation through a child’s eyes - with innocence, confusion, trust. Maybe it’s—

The sound of footsteps disrupts Namjoon’s thoughts. It’s 2AM and he’s a little surprised that someone is in the area at this time. It’s a busy street during the day and the crowd falls away early. It’s completely deserted by this hour; it’s why he likes taking this route from the office to his apartment. He’s always liked walking home regardless of the distance, but it’s at night when he feels most free, and it’s become something he looks forward to everyday. 

He’s about to turn away when he notices a figure run up to the small building where the painting he was just admiring is. The individual lays their bag on the floor and retrieves a paintbrush and a pail, seemingly about to continue their work that Namjoon didn’t even realize was still unfinished.

“Fuck,” the voice curses out. “Fuck fuck fucking shit. Why do I always forget my hot packs!”

The person removes their mask and blows into their cupped hands, rubbing them after in hopes of sustaining the heat from the friction. 

“Just a bit more,” they continue, gloved hand now pointing ripples by the boy’s legs as he stands in a body of water. “Just a bit more.”

As chattering teeth and the blowing of air on hands continue, Namjoon decides to make himself known. The stranger is clearly trying to finish their work - and he’s curious to see this all unfold, finding amusement in watching an artist in action - but the cold air is quite uncomfortable. 

“Hey,” he says, as the figure stops their movements. “I’m not a creep, I promise. I was just looking at your work but you’re freezing and I… I’ve got some extra hot packs with me.”

You slowly turn around with furrowed brows. This is the first time you’ve come across another person during the early mornings you paint on this specific building. You’ve gotten used to the emptiness of this street at this time, but somehow, hearing this man’s deep, rough voice is giving you comfort. Especially since he’s offering something you need.

“Sure, that would be great,” you say, blowing into your hands again.

He slowly walks forward - clad in a thick hoodie and beanie, his mask covering half of his face. He looks familiar, but you don’t have much time to place where you know him from. You take the hot packs he offers, squeeze one with your free hand while the other continues on with the piece that you want to finish tonight.

“Will it take much longer?” He asks, his voice kind. “I didn’t know it was unfinished and it’s quite interesting to see an artist complete their work. So, uh, can I watch?”

You turn towards him. On a normal day, you’d turn him away. You’re not too keen on anyone on your ass while you finish something, but he doesn’t seem like a creep and he was kind enough to give you hot packs at a time like this, so you nod. 

It doesn’t take long. It’s just some ripples and a few strokes left anyway; you were freezing too much last night so you put off the final details for tonight. And then the last bit. You sign your name on the bottom corner, and a gasp leaves the stranger’s mouth.

“Wait, you’re Blue…” he says, the realization dawning on him. “

“Surprise,” you reply, standing up from your squatting position. 

“I mean, I figured since you’ve been painting children and their lost youth this past year but… the man in the rain, the distorted face on the mirror, the hand on the neck… those were you, too.”

Namjoon can’t believe he’s finally face-to-face with the artist whose work has been haunting him since he first came across one on an electric post 3 years ago. 

They were in other parts of the city. He remembers seeing them on walls and buildings during his walks home or when he was in the car, and then some weeks later, they were gone, either replaced with a new piece of work or just painted over, as if it never existed. He’d seen the signature a few times, and seeing it again reminded him that it was you, too. The one who’d created those masterpieces that got him thinking, feeling, wondering.

“You have a good memory,” you simply smile at him, realizing at this point that you’ve left your mask off. You put it back on and take in his domineering form. “Those were years ago; I’ve almost forgotten about them.”

“I haven’t. I mean, sort of.”

“Good. That was the point,” you reply. “I mean, sort of.”

“The point being? That I find something that speaks to me and then the next minute, they’re gone?” He says, quite defensive. It bothered him for a time that he never got to see those pieces again.

“What did they make you feel?”

“Desolate? Alone? Confused? Desperate?”

“Then you forgot about them, didn’t you?”

“The paintings, sort of. Not the feeling, though,” he frowns. “I still think about them but… I think I’ve forgotten exactly what they look like. Is that what you wanted?”

“Pretty much,” you hum, starting to pack your things. “The stuff I leave on for a few weeks are mostly sad, and I paint over them because I don’t want people to dwell on them. I want people… to forget, to move on.”

“But they don’t, not really. I’m sure they’ve taken photos if it spoke to them so much. At least I did, but then I deleted them because…”

“Because you got over the sadness,” you smirk, knowing that somehow, he proved your point, and he lets out a chuckle at the realization. “It may be on their phones but it’s not the real thing. The image may be distorted, the colors different, the strokes a lot smoother. It’s not the same.”

“They should be preserved,” he voices out. “It’s art. Those things are meant to be immortalized, no matter how they make people feel.”

“Not always,” you counter. “At least for me, I make those to forget. The feelings fade once the art does. I created them that way.”

“Hmm,” Namjoon hums, taking this time to observe you, as you’d rendered him speechless. 

There’s this softness in your eyes that contrasts the words you say. He doesn’t want to imagine what you might’ve gone through to create hauntingly beautiful pieces inspired by feelings you want to forget. 

Whatever those are, he truly does wish you’ve let those go. He knows he has. But he still disagrees - he doesn’t think art ever fades. Perhaps feelings do, but he’s come to learn that visual art is eternal.

“So how long will you keep this up?” He asks, wondering when he’d see you again; the allure and intrigue from your words makes him want to know more.

“Until the next season,” you say, picking up your bag now. “It’s been a tough year and I hope the spring brings more hope.”

“But you also don’t want them to dwell on this… the loss of childhood, of youth,” he continues. “You want them to move on from this, focus on what’s to be gained after losing something important.”

“You’re a fast learner,” you wink, and Namjoon surprises himself by the way his heart jumps at the sight. “You must be a genius or something. Or an artist yourself.”

“Neither,” he lies. “I mean, I’m barely anything, really.”

“I doubt it. A guy like you being affected by all this means you’re something, whatever it is.”

There’s something validating about your words, and he smiles behind his mask, something you see, as you smile back. 

It’s odd, feeling a sense of connection with a stranger like this, something he’s never really experienced, most times because he’s always wary of who he meets, especially at this time of the night. But you don’t seem to know who he is. And if you do, you don’t seem to mind or want to make a deal out of it, something that he appreciates. 

There’s comfort in your smile, and he wants to discover what other things cause it. There’s a dearth of experience in your words, and he wants to know more. There’s a tenderness in your eyes that he wants to mirror; he wishes he can give comfort to someone just by looking at them. 

Maybe it’s the cold breeze. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s the end of the year and he’s spending it alone again. Maybe it’s spending an entire day cooped up in his studio only to go home to an empty apartment. Maybe it’s knowing what a year it was and what’s about to come. He didn’t think that a stranger in a yellow puff jacket who cursed so crisply would be the one to make his walk back home not feel so lonely. That the woman who’d casually painted some ripples and splashes on the wall was the one who’d make him feel a little less alone.

“So, uh, do you usually paint at the start or end of the season?” He wonders.

“Are you trying to ask when you’re gonna see me again?” You look at him with an arched brow.

“Maybe,” Namjoon chuckles. He’s also just trying to delay your departure, seeing as you seem to be ready to leave. 

He doesn’t want to ask your name, not ready himself to share who he is. But perhaps the next meeting won’t be as serendipitous as this. 

“It depends,” you tease. “But maybe I’ll see you again, either here, or elsewhere.”

“I hope it’s soon,” he confesses. He’s being bold, but his eyes light up when you reply.

“I hope so, too.”

Namjoon walks the opposite direction of where you are headed, turning back once to look at you, and catching your eyes when he does. 

Winter passes. His busy schedule doesn’t permit him to take this route for a while, and it’s mid-spring when he sees a new painting that’s been completed - a young girl looking through a glass window to a world outside, her fingers holding onto the latch as she readies to open it. A small smile forms on his face; he at least sees something of you, even if it isn’t you.

The next time he’s able to pass by, it’s the end of summer, and all he sees is a gray wall - empty, undisturbed, as if there was nothing there to begin with.

2021, autumn 

The bell rings as Namjoon enters the building, an art gallery that he’s been frequenting the past few months. There are new pieces, he’s been told, and one of the curators that he’s become friends with informed him that some of the artists are in town. 

He nods in greeting at familiar faces - employees, artists, casual visitors. He walks around, taking in the new paintings and sculptures displayed. As he turns towards one of the smaller rooms, a piece catches his eye.

It’s something he’d seen before, a piece of ceramic sculpted in such a way that it looks like a flower in one angle, a seashell in another. And, dare he say, a vulva from a little farther away. 

He reads the label. Untitled 56, Samantha Lee.

Namjoon goes through the photos on his phone, knowing it was a trip to LA over 2 years ago where he’d encountered something similar. 

And there it is. Untitled 48, Samantha Lee. 

He took the photo from an angle that looked like flowers, thinking about the simplicity and beauty, the choice of colors, and how they hung on the wall as part of the installation. It was one of many pieces he documented, but was the only one he didn’t get much story from. There was no description, no background. He wasn’t quite sure what to feel.

“Find something that interests you?”

Mr. Hong is one of the founders of this gallery, and he spends much of his time getting to know the regular visitors and the artists. He’s definitely someone who knows when something strikes Namjoon, like right now.

“Samantha Lee,” Namjoon responds. “Are they a local artist? I think I saw their work in LA some time ago.”

“Ah, yes Ms., uh, Ms. Lee. She’s a local and has her pieces displayed in several galleries. She’s here, actually,” Mr. Hong excitedly shares, noting how important it is for the Kim Namjoon to meet one of the artists. “She was supposed to come yesterday but decided to drop by today instead. Would you like to meet her?”

“Ah, that would be great,” Namjoon smiles back. “If she is fine with that, of course.”

Mr. Hong is never sure if the said artist is, but Namjoon is a special guest, he thinks, so the older man nods. “I’ll lead you to her.”

Namjoon is led up a small flight of stairs and out to a patio with more installations displayed. He spots several people outside, and he tries to determine which one of them is the artist he wants to meet, perhaps ask why she’d untitled all her pieces, and why there’s nothing of her at all that she chooses to share.

He stops in front of two women as instructed by Mr. Hong.

“He’s a fucking asshole, that’s what he is,” a familiar voice spits out. “The next time he harasses you, I’m going to impale his dick with my heels and—”

“Ehem,” Mr. Hong clears his throat, prompting both women to look at him. “Ms. Lee, one of our patrons would like to meet you.” 

He shares a look with the woman before she nods and smiles. She turns to Namjoon where he’s met with familiar tender eyes, eyes he’s been yearning to see since that cold winter night.

“Blue?” He asks, surprised.

“My favorite color, yes. How did you know?” 

You look at the man in front of you, tall and broad with caramel skin and a smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts. You’ve seen this smile before. Even behind a mask, you could tell it’s him, the man who’d saved your ass that one cold winter night with his extra hot packs and his calming voice. 

You thought you’d see him again, seeing as he seemed to want to, but he never came that spring. You even left a small, ridiculous note at the corner where your signature usually is, asking when he’d come, thinking he’d communicate with you there. But the response never came. 

The universe is tricky sometimes. You passed up on coming to the gallery yesterday because you felt dizzy when you woke up. And of all days that your winter night man visits, it’s the one where you’re here.

“I just figured,” Namjoon smiles, picking up your hints. “It’s one of mine, too.”

“Perhaps we should talk about the complexities of the color, then,” you smile back, nodding towards one of the sections in the large patio. 

You lead him there, leaving Mr. Hong and his warning gaze and your assistant, whose smirk and teasing laughter makes you glare at her.

“I’m guessing they don’t know about you being Blue?” Namjoon asks, feeling a little jittery standing next to you again and being able to see your face much more clearly, your hair tied loosely in a bun and your clothes a nice fit for the cool weather.

“Minji does. She helps me find materials,” you respond. “Mr. Hong doesn’t. He’s not much of a fan of street art.”

“That’s a bummer, especially since one of the artists creates amazing pieces on buildings and posts and then signs them, then abandons them, and leaves spectators like me to wonder where they’d gone,” Namjoon replies, hoping you don’t find offense with his tiny jab. 

Your chuckle tells him you don’t. “You never came.”

“I didn’t know when to,” he defends. “Well, more like, I stopped having the time. That place is so far from where I live and I only walk from my office because I like that time alone and I haven’t had that, but then I came back in the summer but you—”

“You don’t have to explain,” you assure him. “That was a chance meeting and I didn’t really expect I’d see you again in the same spot weeks later.”

“Did you expect to see me this time?”

“Oh, not at all,” you shake your head. “Why are you even here?”

“Why are people ever in art galleries?” He counters. “To check out the art. Maybe chance upon the artists if they’re here.”

“I guess,” you shrug, turning a corner to a small maze of an installation. “You wouldn’t have known it was me, though.”

“I didn’t. I was staring at Untitled 56 and realized I took a photo of Untitled 48,” he reveals, earning him a shocked look from you. “It was in LACMA. I saw it a while back. The name rang a bell because I don’t know anything about you. You leave so much to the imagination, Ms. Lee. There’s nothing about y—”

“It’s Han,” you correct him, feeling comfortable now. “I mean, Han ___. Samantha Lee is another pseudonym. Or like a stage name. You know, like you?”

You bite your lip at the slip-up, not wanting him to be uncomfortable at the thought that you clearly know who he is. But he just nods, affirming that he now knows that you know who he is, but he smiles right after, his eyes turning into the smallest, prettiest crescents and his dimples framing his strong-featured face that makes him even more handsome. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he hums. “But why blue? And why Samantha Lee?”

“It’s the simpler version of my favorite color. Aegean blue is too complicated to sign every time,” you chuckle. “And Samantha Lee… Well, she was my roommate back in college and she once told me she wanted to be famous and the only way that could happen is if I used her name as a pseudonym. I had a crush on her so I agreed.” 

There’s a long pause before Namjoon realizes that you’re not joking, and he comments that it’s interesting but he doesn’t ask again. 

“I’m Kim Namjoon, by the way,” he reaches out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you say, internally melting at the feel of his warm and large hand. “So why did you take a photo of Untitled 48?”

“It looked like a clam.”

At this, you burst into laughter.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, just to be clear!” He insists. “It was beautifully made. It was of a neutral color but it somehow stood out the most to me in that section. And it was the 48th; I wondered why they didn't have titles. And your 56th, which looks like—”

“A vulva,” you snort.

“Yes,” he chuckles, “and a flower, yeah - something I’ve been into lately. And well, it was interesting. And seeing your piece here reminded me of that,” he goes on. “And I just wanted to know… why.”

“Why what?” You furrow your brows at him.

“Why those pieces? Why are they untitled? What prompted you to create them that way?”

“We’d probably have to tour the gallery 4 more times if you want to know,” you chuckle.

“I have time.”

“Do you?” You ask, eyeing the phone in his pocket that's been vibrating for the last 5 minutes.

He smiles shyly and excuses himself. When he returns, he has a disappointed look on his face. “Turns out, I don’t have time. But I want to. I… uh, will you be here again anytime this week?”

“I will. I’m just not sure when.”

There’s something alluring with these coincidental meetups. Somehow you want more of those, perhaps to let the universe tell you that you’re meant to constantly meet this man whose time you know you’ll never have enough of, even if he makes it for you. 

“Let me see you again?” 

“You will.”

You catch his eyes when he turns back as he walks away. There’s a sparkle in them, and you’re afraid to want to see it once more.

**

The walk to the site of the lost youth is a long one, but not knowing when you’d see the tall man with the prettiest smile again, you head there. 

Your last piece was of a child at the brink of freedom, about to take the step outside the cage she’d been in for the past year and a half. You painted over it once autumn started; maybe the next time you’d paint over a building, you’re no longer yearning for lost things. Maybe you’d paint something about finding something new.

“I’m gonna start believing in a higher power if we continue meeting like this.”

The raspy voice is familiar, and you turn around to see Namjoon, clad in a hoodie and a baseball cap, leaning against one of the streetlights across the empty wall of the building you’d been staring at. It’s been 2 days since you saw him at the gallery, about 7 months since the first time you’d encountered him here. You’re unsure what this all means.

“Maybe you should,” you head towards him. “I missed the last bus so I decided to walk home. I’m still far away but this is on the way. Why are you here?”

“Stayed up at the studio,” he replies. “I’m incredibly exhausted but I don’t know, I got the energy for the long walk. Then there you were.”

“There I was, appearing so suddenly again, yeah?” You chuckle, leaning on the opposite side of the pole. 

Namjoon merely hums before he nods towards the direction of his apartment. “I’m heading there.”

“Me, too.”

With his hands in his hoodie pockets and yours crossed against your chest, you try to match his long strides.

“Painting came first,” you say, as if answering the question that he’s been thinking of asking. “Painting was everything. We had so many pieces in our home, and it’s as if they spoke to me. I mean, in a not creepy way, it felt like all of my parents’ own pieces spoke to me. And they always told me I wasn’t good enough.”

Namjoon turns to look at you with empathy in his eyes. He lets you speak, and he finds out that both your parents are the artists he’d been researching lately. Your father is a classical painter, and your mother does contemporary. He can’t imagine living in gigantic shadows like that. 

“When I was 15, my parents pulled strings to get some of my pieces displayed with theirs,” you sigh, recalling the mixed emotions then. “It was exciting at first, but the patrons wouldn’t mention my name unless they mentioned my parents’. And then one of my favorite pieces that I made was sold to a man who wanted it as a decoration in his summer home’s living room.”

Namjoon slows his walk and you match his pace. You meet his comforting eyes, and there’s that warmth you feel from, technically, a stranger that you didn’t expect.

“I made that piece at a time when I was frustrated living in my parents’ shadows,” you continue. “Someone once told me that art is meant to be shared, that there’s humanity in the community we create when it’s shared, that the meaning deepens when others make their own. That piece had so much of me in there; I felt like the meaning of that piece was stripped away from me the moment that stranger took home that canvas for a select few to look at. It wasn’t mine anymore, it was his; it was theirs. I stopped painting after that.”

There’s a certain kind of pain in giving up something that matters deeply to you, in losing meaning in the thing that’s given your life meaning for most of your life. Namjoon knows a bit about that pain. Many times, he’d found himself questioning all that he does, what he stands for, and what the world expects him to be. 

He sees that pain in your eyes, of losing a part of you as the art stopped meaning what you wanted it to. But he doesn’t think that all is lost. 

“But your street art,” he reminds you. “That’s still you. That still has meaning. And that’s something that you share.”

“That’s Blue, though,” you manage a smile. “She’s just a part of me.”

“She’s still you,” he insists. “Can you tell me about her?”

And so you tell him - how you argued with your parents about quitting painting, how you were going to turn down the scholarship in a prestigious art university to take up sociology instead, so they shipped you to a foreign country to fend for yourself, and that’s when you learned what loneliness felt like. But that’s also when you learned about people in their rawest sense, what it meant to struggle to survive, what it meant to lose something that mattered, because you studied them - you studied how humans grieved and how they persisted. You studied how they lived and how they died.

“Blue wants meaning, and she still struggles in finding it,” you explain. 

“Does she?” Namjoon questions. “I’m in my late 20s but your lost youth series resonated with me. All those paintings of the man in the rain, the distorted face… they’ve inspired me in ways I can’t explain. That’s meaning, ___. That matters.”

No one outside of Minji knows all these versions of you. Except Namjoon, the brightest star you never thought you’d ever meet. Hearing him speak about your work this way makes you feel something - a first in a long time.

“Thanks, I guess,” you say shyly.

“It’s a shame they’re not displayed in galleries and museums, though.”

“I don’t want them to,” you say, surprising him. “People intend to go to museums, but they pass these streets out of necessity. I want them to stop and look, to feel, to think for a few seconds before they go back to their routinary walk. And then I remove them, so they can forget what pain and sadness feel like.”

“Looks like you found your meaning, then,” Namjoon smiles, comforted by the fact that someone as talented as you had found purpose again, something he relates with at a deeper level than he imagined.

“The painter in me did,” you reply. “The sculptor, not so much. “

“Untitled,” he hums.

“Yeah. I don’t think I can name something I understand, or at least, feel,” you say. 

“That’s a lot of untitled works for you to not understand what you do,” he chuckles. 

“I’m prolific because there’s not much of me I lose when I create them,” you explain. “I just sit in my stool, craft something, then call it a day. Not to brag or anything, but it comes easy. They’re shallow pieces, Namjoon. They don’t even deserve to be in galleries but Mr. Hong insists they do for some reason. I wish this version of me, Samantha Lee, understood why it matters, why someone like him would believe in my pieces, why a Kim Namjoon would think that 48 stood out to him enough to keep a photo.”

Namjoon processes your words. As an artist himself, he believes in the meaning of the pieces that he creates, whether it’s a song or a poem or an album or a concert. There’s effort put into them even if it’s something created in 30 minutes. Your pieces are beautiful, and he wants to explore more - you and your meaning, you and your value. 

“Then why do you keep making them? What about it makes you keep sculpting?”

“The feel of the clay on my skin, the way my fingers get to mold and create the details,” you explain. “I get to touch it. I don’t get to do that with painting, you know? It’s the paintbrush and the canvas I feel but with sculpting, I get to mix the materials, I get to shape it, hold it.”

“There’s that intimacy,” he offers.

“Yeah. And it’s addictive because it’s closeness I’ve never felt before.” You turn to him before speaking the next words. “It's an intimacy I’ve never experienced before with anyone or anything.”

“Isn’t that your meaning, then?” He questions. “The piece itself might not have a story on its own but all these untitled works, the process of creating, of it being easy because you can’t get enough of the intimacy you get from creating… that’s meaning. That desire for closeness, for meaning… that’s meaning.”

No one’s ever put it that way for you, probably because you’ve never let yourself be this honest with someone about your art. All your friends aren’t artists because you wanted that world separate, you didn’t want to have to talk about it feeling as insecure and lost as you are. 

But Namjoon - he’s one of your generation’s greatest artists. He weaves words and sounds so beautifully to create masterpieces that people consume and hold so closely. He understands. 

“I’ve made songs that took me 30 minutes,” he shares. “But I’ve also made songs that took me to dark places, that broke me as I wrote them. But once they came out, once I’ve shared them to others who’ve shared what it meant to them… slowly, I started becoming whole again. Isn’t that an artist’s burden? To break to create, to feel whole after that, and then to break all over again?”

“You are truly one of a kind, Kim Namjoon,” you tell him. “I’ve lived with artists my whole life and they never let me understand art in that way.”

“I’m still figuring it all out,” he shrugs. “I still feel lost sometimes, but I think it’s natural to feel that way, to be unsure or confused. I guess what matters is that we’re still walking on some road to somewhere, even if we don’t know where we’re heading.”

“Is that where you are right now?” You wonder. “On a road to somewhere you don’t quite know yet?”

More than you know, he wants to say. He’s in this period of experimentation, of figuring out his signature style, of figuring out who he is and what he means to his teammates, to the industry, to the world. 

“Sort of,” he shrugs. “It’s hard sometimes. Walks like this give me a reprieve. Consuming other people’s art lets me understand things a bit more.”

“Yeah, I get it. I mean, conversing with strangers gives me time to breathe, too.”

“Ooh, so I’m still a stranger, huh?” He chuckles, shyly looking at you. “Our third unplanned meeting, an hour of walking home… and I’m still a stranger.”

“What would you want to be, then?” You turn to him, a little teasing smile on your face.

“A friend, for starters.”

“My nighttime friend?”

“Not just,” he shakes his head. “I would like to see you again, actually. And I don’t want to put this up to chance this time. Like, something planned or—”

“And how exactly would that work?”

“I, uh…” he thinks. “I’d invite you to my apartment. And you can invite me to yours?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to get to know you more, if that’s okay.”

“Are you always this bold?” You giggle, not missing the way your cheeks start to feel warm at the mention of visiting each other’s homes and him wanting to get to know you. 

He’s obviously handsome - you’ve known of him since his band made it to your TV screens, being young men who were around your age, singing songs that resonate so deeply with you. But he’s more than that, as you’re learning. There’s this passion for creating that's refreshing, something you seem to lack.

“Not always,” he looks away, the dips in his cheeks something you’re sure you won’t get enough of.

“You should be. It makes a girl flustered but it makes it so difficult for her to say no,” you smirk. Sometimes, you also don’t know where your own boldness comes from.

“You? Flustered? That’s quite hard to believe,” he teases.

“That’s true. But it happens, believe it or not, when a gorgeous, brilliant man asks me over.”

Your heart stops for what feels like a minute, but his sweet, child-like laughter melts away your worry.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” You ask. 

“Surprisingly, no,” he replies. “I appreciate your honesty. About everything. I hope we can give that to each other.”

“Okay then, your turn,” you challenge.

“Hearing you curse was kinda hot.”

You try to hold off your laughter, your defense to your true reaction, which is to smile like an idiot and feel like floating. 

“That’s interesting. I would’ve thought it’s something to do with my looks or my talent, you know?” You arch an eyebrow teasingly.

“It is. I think you’re beautiful. And I’m usually a forgetful person but I haven’t forgotten your sweet smile since I first saw it last winter,” he says, catching you off guard. “And your talent… there’s a reason why I have 48 saved on my phone, and why I sought out your street art these past years. I want to know what intimacy in art is like for you. I guess I’ve sort of lost that in creating my own.”

“Intimacy,” you repeat. “I think we both lack it in certain ways.”

“Maybe we’ll find it,” he says more confidently now, holding your gaze as your eyes trace his face. 

“Maybe we will,” you respond, feeling your whole body warm with embers of fire. 

He insists on taking you home, another 20-minute walk away from his. But you claim to enjoy that time on your own, assuring him that you do this all the time and the streets are safe.

“Let me know when you get home safely?” He asks, and you give him your phone for him to input his number.

“I will.”

It’s 30 minutes later when you do. It’s 1AM, but you and Namjoon spend the next 2 hours talking some more - about his songs and your pieces, about his plants and your collection of wind chimes. 

You didn’t expect to make him laugh as much as you did, and he said he didn’t expect you to think his ramblings are adorable and amusing. You most definitely didn’t expect your heart to beat as fast as it did when he told you, in his deep, raspy voice, that he’s glad he took that long walk that winter, that he visited the art gallery when he did, that the hopeless romantic in him pushed him to go to the place you first met. 

“I think I’m crazy but somehow I feel like I’ve known you for so long,” he muses. 

“I feel the same way,” you assure him, as you hug your pillow and slowly surrender to sleep.

“Good,” he hums. “That’s all I wanted to know. Good night, ___. And I’ll see you soon.”

2021, winter 

There’s a warmth in Namjoon’s home that’s hard to replicate. Filled with his favorite art pieces of all forms, he said he curated it to reflect his emotions just as much as his tastes. It’s clean and well-organized, with books on shelves and stacks on the floor, and an entire area full of liquor - his new interest, he’d said. 

He’s had you over several times already; the first one, barely a week after that long walk home. You both spent hours that day talking about his favorite artists, and it wasn’t enough, as he asked you back the next day. 

You often talk about your childhood, one that you weren’t always comfortable sharing, but being with him makes it easy. 

It’s easy when he looks into your eyes when you speak, as if he’s telling you that he knows you say more than words. It’s easy when he’s got his own stories to share - stories of vulnerability and honesty, of fear and confusion. It’s easy when he still stutters over words sometimes and then gets lost in his own ramblings, then he chuckles when he realizes he’s talked so much, and you tell him that it’s okay because his voice is calming and his thoughts are a breath of fresh air.

It’s easy when his presence is comforting, when his anecdotes about his friends and family make you laugh until your insides hurt. It’s easy when he makes you feel like you can question everything about your art and your purpose and your abilities but he never makes you feel like a failure. It’s easy when he smiles and laughs nervously, when he’s funny without meaning to, and when he makes sure you’re comfortable by always having your preferred tea and biscuits next to the wine you once said is your favorite.

The only time it gets hard is when he stands a little too close as you look up at a painting or a book on a shelf. You could feel the heat from his body; a slight movement and you’d be touching, mere cloths in between you. It’s hard when his arm brushes the slightest bit against yours. It’s hard when he gazes at you when there’s silence, and it’s like he’s studying your face before you call him out and he apologizes because he “can’t stop looking at pretty things.” 

It’s hard when he hugs you goodbye and he wishes you a safe ride home. It’s hard when he sends you a message right after, saying he wishes you both had more time.

Being attracted to Namjoon is hard; being attached to him is torture. 

“You’re looking for him again,” Minji states the obvious as you walk around the gallery, your eyes darting to the door every time the bell rings. 

“No I’m not,” you deny. “He just got back from his trip abroad and he’s tired. He won’t be coming here.”

“Doesn’t mean you wish he would,” she smirks. “But why rendezvous here? You guys go to each other’s houses. And no one goes to your house… aside from me.”

“We can’t exactly see each other in public, you know?” You glare at her. “But… I don’t know, it’s nice to see him look around and talk about what he sees. I feel like I learn more from him. And that’s weird, isn’t it? This is my field. The arts have been my entire life, but I’m learning more about it from him.”

“What is it about him?” She wonders. 

She doesn’t say that she’s noticed more life in your eyes since he came into your life. She doesn’t say that she’s noted that you take more time creating pieces, seemingly savoring the process unlike the way you used to. She doesn’t mention the smile that she hasn’t seen in all the years that she’s known you. 

“Passion is sexy, you know?” You giggle. “He has so much of it, it’s inspiring.”

“Is that all?” Minji smirks.

“He’s also fucking gorgeous. I try not to ogle him but I think he’s noticed. Fuck me.”

“Maybe he wants to.”

“Shut up. Don’t make me hope.”

“You do that to yourself,” she laughs. “Keep denying that you don’t want to see him or want anything more with him and let’s see how you do.”

The truth is, you know. You know that you’d fall hard if you let yourself go like that, but it’s human to know danger and then still want it, isn’t it?

The vibration from your phone ringing surprises you. 

“Hey,” Namjoon’s voice booms on the other end.

“Hey,” you reply. “How was your trip?” 

“Good. I just got home. We had to stop by the office for a bit. My place is a mess and we have something again in the afternoon,” he huffs, sounding incredibly tired. “Can I come over tonight?”

You almost drop the flute of champagne you’re holding. He’s been to your house twice, but this is the first time he’s specifically asked to come over, especially considering that he just arrived from a trip abroad. 

“Of course,” you hum. “Any dinner preferences?”

“Your cooking,” he says simply. “But wait for me, okay? I’ll let you know when I’m on the way.”

“Okay,” you say, before dropping the call, unable to hide the wide smile that forms on your face, to your assistant’s amusement.

“Why don’t you try to let go this time?” She advises. “Maybe you’ll find the intimacy you’ve been longing for.”

**

Namjoon overestimates your cooking abilities. Truly, all you know to do is prepare ramyun and fry anything. But, compared to him, he’s said you’re chef level. “The guys” don’t even want him near the kitchen, he tells you all the time. 

But instant noodles and pork belly seem enough for him, as he eats with his mouth closed and hums in satisfaction. You take the time to savor the way he looks. A few weeks without him has started to feel like months. 

“It was overwhelming,” he finally says. 

He knew the moment he landed that he wanted to see you. There’s comfort in your presence that he’s begun to accept, and being with you allows him to be honest, to feel real, to feel human. 

“It was great to be able to perform again, to hear the cheers and the sounds and everything. It was also terrifying,” he continues. “I was nervous and excited, I was scared and elated. I felt so fulfilled and satisfied but I also felt like it wasn’t enough.”

“That’s a lot of conflicting emotions,” you hum.

“Are they? Conflicting, I mean.”

“It depends, I guess. They seem up and down to me. Does it bother you?”

“That I felt all that, all at once?” 

You nod in response.

“It used to,” he admits. “At the start of all this, I thought, I can’t be scared. Six other guys and an entire company are looking to me to succeed. I have to be strong and confident. And then, an industry is waiting for me to fail. And then, my own country is letting me - us - represent an entire generation, it’s asking me to carry on this cultural wave. It never ends. And I used to think I couldn’t be scared, that not wanting all this anymore means I’m ungrateful.”

“But you aren’t,” you try to assure him. You can’t imagine the burden he feels, leading a group that feels all kinds of pressure. “I’ve heard you talk about your art and your poetry and your brothers and your fans. You’re easily the most passionate, hardworking, and appreciative person I know. I don’t think you’ll ever run out of things to give.”

“It’s tiring,” he sighs.

“I’m sure. But you’re honest about it. You’ve always been. Doesn’t honesty unburden you, even just a little bit? Doesn’t it leave you space to feel more, to be more?”

Namjoon hums. For someone who claims to not know much about feeling, you seem to know what to say to make him stop and think, to remind him of why he does what he does. And why ultimately, he’s always going to love it.

“It does,” he finally says, sitting up straight to take a better look at you in your linen pants and soft sweater. “Do you do that, then? Unburden yourself by being honest?”

“I’m not good at doing that,” you chuckle. “If you don’t know by now, I say a lot of seemingly profound things that I don’t necessarily live by.”

“Why not?”

“Honesty scares me. Being vulnerable scares me. I don’t know how to return it.”

“Has anybody ever been all that to you?” He wonders, feeling the tension build a little.

“Once” you say, standing from the dining table and heading to the large window that overlooks your garden. “And I ran away.”

“Is that why you sculpt, then?” Namjoon asks, walking towards you. “Because you don’t know what to do with intimacy so you do it with your art? You want to hold and touch what you walk away from? You don’t give it a name because you don’t want to define it? Because you’re scared that if you do, you’ll realize that you actually want it - the closeness, the warm body, the rawness that you can only get from being with someone else.”

You look up at him, towering over you. He came from a short filming, donned in a white, buttoned polo with his long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You can see the darkness of his hazelnut eyes and the stubble on his chin. You spot the beauty mark on his neck and the smoothness of his skin, especially on his chest, as he leaves 2 buttons undone. 

“Reading me now, Kim Namjoon?” You cock an eyebrow, trying to break the tension that’s built up in the last few minutes. 

“I’m trying, because I want to get to know you more, find out what you’re afraid of and ease it somehow,” he admits. “Because I feel the same way. I’m honest but I’m scared, yet with you, I’m honest but I’m brave. I feel like I’m brave. I don’t know what it is, but ever since I met you, I just wanted…” he glances at your lips then meets your eyes again. “I just wanted to know more, to feel more. To understand what it’s like to be intimate with someone who doesn’t know much about it like me. I want to figure it out. With you.”

“How?” 

One word is all you get to verbalize, as you feel him come closer, the heat of his body intensifying with every second. You’re backed up against the window, the distance between you and him decreasing and decreasing. 

His eyes are boring into you, and you bravely gaze at him back. You mirror his desire, as you lick your lips when he glances at them again. Your chest is heaving as is his, and your heart races even more when he breathes out your name.

You palm his chest, and for a brief moment of uncertainty in his eyes at the thought of you stopping him, you instead grip the cloth that covers him, and you slowly pull him in.

His lips are soft. And the way he gently presses against you is tender, comforting, like he wants to savor it and go slow. He angles his head the same time his hand reaches for your waist, and you feel the slightest wetness from his tongue.

You grant him entrance, and the second you do, he takes control, tightening his hold on your body as he cages you, his one arm now propped up against the window. You moan into each other as tongues and teeth clash, and you can’t help your hand that travels to pull on the ends of his hair, brushing your fingers against the nape of his neck right after. 

It’s a little sloppy, needy, but there’s still gentleness in there. It’s in the way he cups your cheek, caressing it with his large fingers and letting it slide down your chest, back to your waist. It’s in the way he smiles into the kiss when you moan your pleasure; you can almost feel his dimples as he does. It’s in the way that he asks for more, not with dominance but with care, with understanding, with caution. 

You both pull away to catch some air, lips swollen and wet, but your smiles say you enjoyed it. The way your bodies haven’t completely detached from each other shows that.

“Would you let me stay the night?” He asks softly, as if it’s a request he’s afraid to ask. 

“Yes,” you breathe out. “Be with me tonight.”

Underneath the covers of your bed, you lay in his arm while your fingers trace patterns on his taut chest. You can hear his heartbeat still drumming, and you can feel the care in the way he caresses your cheek, your arm, your waist.

“I don’t know what I can give you, Namjoon,” you admit. “I don’t know how to be as honest and vulnerable as you. I don’t know how to share parts of me that I don’t understand. I don’t know what I can do to ease all your worries and concerns. I—”

“Just give me moments,” he interjects. “Nights like this, days at our homes, afternoons at the galleries, hours on the phone… I just want to feel something that I can actually touch, that I can savor. And I want it to be you, the one I get to hold and taste and kiss.”

He leans forward again, and you capture his mouth in yours. There’s no need to do more - much as you’re wet and he’s definitely hard, but neither one of you is rushing, neither one wants to scare the other.

He’s hot, the kind that burns. That’s how it is with people as passionate as he is - their touch can light a fire on your skin, and you won’t be able to stop it.

“I can give you moments,” you whisper. “Just tell me.”

2022, spring 

You can count the moments with 2 hands. 

Namjoon stayed with his parents over the holidays but he videocalled you everyday. You both went to a few galleries outside the capital but did so separately, spending hours after that talking about the pieces over the phone. 

You’ve come to appreciate your world much more deeply with his commentaries and reflections, and with you, he said he’d gotten to breathe a little longer, laugh a little louder, and feel a little more human. 

He stayed over your place 4 more times; you stayed over at his thrice. You debated over movies and recommended each other books. It was common to spend the day wrapped up in each other on the couch while you both read separately. He made you listen to a few songs he’s been working on - some of which were inspired by your many conversations and your own musings, and you’d showed him sketches of your upcoming planned series on sculpted landscapes.

It’s freeing, being able to share about your world with someone else like this, and being part of someone else’s, too. Whatever it is you both have is freeing - kisses included, which never went beyond what you first did. Despite the obvious desire to do more, neither of you ever tried, perhaps knowing what it would entail. There’s distance between you and him but there also isn’t. There’s enough comfort and intimacy that you’ve only scratched the surface of, but this seems to be just enough. 

“I have the weekend off,” he pants over the phone. It’s 11PM and they’ve just finished rehearsals for an upcoming series of concerts abroad. “Do you want to do something?”

“A trip to my parents’ summer home?” You wonder out loud. The spring air has come and you love going to the lake at this time. “It’s by the mountains and it’s really private. The estate is like their personal art museum with their works and others’. I visit every year. But if—”

“Yes, a hundred times yes,” he huffs. “That’s fucking amazing.”

“I know I got you at the art museum bit,” you laugh. 

“You got me at the really private bit, actually,” he says seriously, causing your heart to race. “And the art of course. And you. Always you.”

“Alright, Casanova,” you tease. “Just make sure I don’t get in trouble for taking you somewhere weeks before you leave.”

“We’re alright,” he responds. “I can’t wait.”

**

It’s a 3-hour drive to the estate by the mountains. In the far future, your parents want to open it up for private viewing, and so you want to make sure that your art lover more-than-but-not-really-friend gets a first peek. 

You spend the entire ride talking about a hundred topics, going off tangent when he rambles again, and you’re the one who circles him back to the original discussion. You hum tunes while he sings songs, and when you find private spots, you take the risk and take photos.

You make it to the estate in the late morning, and as you expected, Namjoon’s jaw drops. 

The fountain at the front is an art piece itself. The front door was shipped from Indonesia, and the furniture are a beautiful curation of pieces from all over the world that were gifted to or bought by your parents. 

You watch him gently trace the carvings and the details. You’re in awe as he absorbs the sculptures and paintings as you tour him around. And you melt every time he turns to you with the biggest smile on his face, like he’s discovering a secret that only both of you know. It’s breathtaking and absolutely precious. 

“Keep looking at me like that,” he says, as he catches you marvel at him. “I like it when you look at me like you want me.”

“Don’t fluster me,” you say, turning away. 

“You’re not denying it,” he counters, walking closer to you.

“I would be a liar if I did.”

“That’s good to know,” he hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know I only asked for moments but can this weekend be filled with that?”

He looks nervous, like you’d turn him down.

“I… it’s been tough, dealing with a lot of things,” he continues. He’s mentioned some difficulties lately, and you know there’s not much you can do about it. Except, maybe this. “I just want something to hold onto, like being here with you, experiencing all these art pieces, being close…” 

He cups your cheek and gives you that look that you’ve become familiar with, his request for intimacy that you both continue to explore.

“Okay,” you respond, taking his hand and kissing it. “Okay.”

You eat lunch, explore the east wing of the property, and at mid-afternoon, you convince him to swim on the lake with you. 

“Isn’t it freezing?” He asks worriedly.

“That’s the fun part of it,” you insist. “There’s a hot tub we can stay at after.”

Namjoon gives in. It’s easy to, with a smile like yours that makes his heart race every time. Especially when you come out in your blue swimsuit, shaping your curves and all other parts of your body that makes his own react. He can’t help but marvel at you, even as you tease.

“Hey, big guy, eyes up,” you smirk. 

He blushes when you giggle, but he does tease back, removing his shirt to reveal his body that he’s been working so hard on. He does flex a little to give you a taste of your own medicine, and it works.

“Hey, eyes up,” he chuckles. 

You feel a shiver when his finger tilts your chin up, and you do the childish thing and bite it before you run to the lake and dive in. Namjoon follows, canonballing and then swimming over to chase you. 

You haven’t swam here in years. You merely used to watch the sun rise and then gaze at the sky and imagined doing all this with someone else. You didn’t really think you’d end up here with Kim Namjoon, but here you are.

Namjoon pulls you to him as you swim close, and you both float in the water with your arms around his chest and his arms around your waist. You’re obviously both drenched, and that just leaves so little to the imagination, especially with the cold water a little more overwhelming than you expected. 

His hair is swept back, with beads of water lining his face and sliding down his neck and his chest. He’s broad and incredibly built. It’s unfair that his body looks as amazing as his face. 

“Does Minji know you’re here with me?” He asks.

“Yes, teased me nonstop until I picked you up. What about the guys?”

“They do. They insist we are a couple.”

“And?”

“And I said that we aren’t,” he says cautiously. “We’re friends who spend a lot of time together and cuddle, and uh, sometimes do a little more.”

“What a complicated way to say we’re friends with benefits,” you laugh.

“I don’t see it that way, though,” he furrows his brows. “I don’t want to reduce what we are to each other to just benefits or something sexual or shallow. Do you see it that way?”

“No,” you say. “I… I’ve come to understand art a lot more because of you. I’ve come to appreciate what I do. That’s not just some benefit.”

“And I… can’t even explain all that you do for me,” he says. “We’re more than that. Less than lovers, but more than friends. And our moments shape this, whatever name we call it.”

“Untitled,” you wonder out loud. “Sometimes artists name their pieces as such when they can’t find a better descriptor.”

“So 58 sculptures in, and you still can’t find a better descriptor?” He teases.

“Shut up,” you smack his hard chest. “I titled them that way because I didn’t have a meaning for them. I just created them. But then I met this man, tall and built with a sexy brain, and he made me realize that the meaning is in the creation, too. So 58 works, 58 times I experienced intimacy, the only times I do.”

“Ah, so what about us?” He nudges you with his nose. “Aren’t we intimate?”

“It’s a different kind, I guess,” you say. You’re not my creation and you’re not mine, you choose not to say. “You don’t break. You’re the one that breaks other things.”

You pass it off as a joke, and he buys it. You don’t want to think much about what you and Namjoon aren’t; you just want to think about what you both are - something that may or may not be fleeting, but something beautiful nonetheless.

The sun shines a little too bright, and you take the chance to get out of the water and into the dock to soak up its heat. Namjoon follows and you both lay that way, just next to each other, catching your breaths.

“Are you feeling a little better?” You ask, wondering if he still carried over all his concerns here.

“Yes. It’s exhilarating,” he responds. “It’s nice to feel this way for a change.”

“I’m sure you’ve felt this way before, too.”

“Not this way,” he turns to you. “It’s different, I guess. It makes me think of all the other emotions I have yet to feel, the ones I’ve felt only briefly before, and the ones that I’ll never feel. I think life’s too short for a person to experience all kinds of emotions. I was it wasn’t.”

“Are humans built for that?” You question. “To feel every possible thing out there? To feel every variation of pain and sadness and joy and elation and pleasure and desire?”

Namjoon thinks. Surely, being able to have emotions and to truly feel is what makes us humans and what makes us different from animals. It’s what marks our humanity, regardless of what emotion that may be. But are humans really capable of feeling everything without breaking? Without it being too much?

“Maybe not,” he finally responds.

You think, too. You’ve often wondered why you were so scared to be vulnerable, to take risks, to love. You thought once that feeling things is overwhelming - what do you do with them? How do you handle them when they get too much? When you become too happy or too sad or too scared or too excited? 

You think maybe because like all things in this world, you can never have emotions. You feel them, but you can’t own them, they can’t be yours. Like your art. You can create them but they stop being yours once you share them. Like music, as Namjoon has told you, it stops being his the moment he releases it for others to consume. And it’s scary to not have that permanence; it’s scary to not have that assurance that you’ll always have that joy or that excitement or that elation. And in some way, it’s also scary to know that you won’t always have that pain or that sadness.

“Maybe humans are only built to try to feel everything,” Namjoon states, having thought about your question and his years-long quest of figuring himself out. “But we aren’t meant to achieve it. Maybe our life is about just feeling bits and pieces of it, sometimes longer than others, but we can’t feel it all, and definitely not all at once. It’s like truth; we spend our life seeking and trying to live it, but we might never be able to. Still, we have to keep trying.”

“Hmm,” is all you manage to say. “Do couples have deep conversations like this?” You laugh this time, needing his thoughts to linger a little longer.

“They should,” he laughs. “But it’s enough for me that I have someone like you to make me question things. It reminds me that I have more to discover, to feel.”

To feel. 

Sometimes Namjoon makes it seem so easy to just do that. He’s able to name what he feels, unlike you. You wish it was easy, like saying that the cold water on your skin is refreshing, like the sun’s heat is comforting, like the clouds in the sky are soft.

You don’t notice your hand reaching up, wanting to just touch them because you want something concrete, something more real than what your imagination says that clouds feel like. But instead, you feel rough, warm fingers interlocking with yours.

“If you want to feel something concrete, I’m here, you know?” Namjoon says, thumbing your hand to let him know he’s right next to you. Somehow he just knew what you were doing, what you were wishing for.

“But this is what couples do,” you tease, yet tightening your hold nonetheless.

“Friends hold hands,” he smirks.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. They kiss, too,” he hums, lifting himself up only to hover over you, catching you by surprise, but your desire trumps that, as the view of him - damp and natural-looking - makes your insides twist in circles.

“Hmm, like this?” You peck his lips, then his nose, teasing him.

“Sometimes. Other times it’s deeper. You know, like this.”

He dives in, and you welcome him immediately, your mouth already slightly open for your tongue to entangle with his. It’s long and deep, as how your kisses always are, and you feel him shift above you, fixing his position with his arms caging your head for support. He angles his mouth so he can have more of you and control how far he goes, how hard, and how fast. 

Your fingers, whose spaces were filled by his just minutes ago, ghost over his neck. They trail down to his chest, gingerly passing by his pecs and his abs, the tips now resting on his hips.

“Fuck,” he moans in your mouth, and you immediately know why he does, feeling his length getting harder by the second. 

It prompts him to grind on you, and you meet him halfway.

“Fuck, Joon,” you whine once his lips detach from yours, only to meet your neck when he sucks then licks over the sting. “Fuck.”

He hums in satisfaction at the sounds you make, going south now as he teases by giving tender kisses on the exposed part of your breasts before biting your nipple over your suit.The obscene sound you make turns him on, especially when you pull his hips harder against yours.

“Oh fuck, baby, yeah,” he groans in your ear now, and you might as well have just come from the way he said those words. 

And then you remember where you are - in the outdoors, in your parents’ summer home. Private as it may be, you’re still exposed, and you remind him of the fact before he slows down and agrees that you can’t be doing this out here. 

“I’m sorry I got carried away,” he says shyly now, as if he didn’t just devour you with his skillful mouth.

“Yeah, this is totally your fault,” you tease. 

He chases you back to the house where you both spend another hour in the hot tub, just talking like normal friends, as if you didn’t almost just cross a line. But it’s like that with Namjoon, you’ve come to realize. Everything is easy, everything is natural, like you can just forget that he isn’t him and you aren’t you.

You spend the rest of the day looking at all the pieces on the first floor, with you sharing as much about them that you can remember. You both sleep that night with his head on your chest and his arms around you.

He sleeps soundly, snoring even. And as you comb his hair, you think of how close you were to wanting so much more in the lake earlier. You think of how much you wanted his lips on your mouth, all over your body, and you wanted it everyday. With the way he held you close and breathed desperately on your skin, you had a feeling that so did he. 

Living in this dream-like state with him feels surreal, several months in. Because that’s what he is - a dream. Here’s a man grounded by his principles despite the fame that seems to shackle him, yet constantly propels him to new heights; a man whose search for truth and humanity shows you that he just wants to be a good person, and a person who does good. 

Beyond his unmatched talent and gift with words, beyond his strikingly stunning looks, is a man who cares deeply, who feels deeply, who submits himself to what he commits to, whether it’s his music, his brothers, his plants, or his interest in art and nature and even whiskey. You have a feeling he’d do the same to whoever he plans to be with. You don’t know if it’s you, and the more you find yourself wanting him, the more you wish it isn’t you.

Namjoon is a dream, and you know at one point, you’re going to have to wake up.

**

The gallery is buzzing, as it always is when there’s a new exhibition. You’re excited for this, too, as the featured artist is one you admire. 

Namjoon admires her as well, which is why he’s here, dressed in a black long-sleeved buttoned top, looking immaculate as per usual. He has a busy schedule but he made time, knowing how special this event is. 

The room holds its breath when he enters; as a well-known lover of art, everyone has come to expect him to be a guest in exhibitions and various art shows. He bows at the other patrons and artists present, and they fawn over him, being the famous man that he is. 

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this side of him. You’re used to him rambling, making jokes he doesn’t realize are funny, and being lost in his own thoughts. You’re used to him in his natural environment - in his home full of books and paintings, and in his studio, which you’ve seen dozens of times through your phone screen. He fits right in here, though - he can easily follow on with the conversations, whether it’s about business or culture or literature. He can charm anyone with his smile and his good looks, and too many times, guests awe at his presence, finding out that he’s much more commanding and handsome off the screen. 

You hide a smile as he glances in your direction. You’ve agreed not to talk much today; there are too many people around and any kind of interaction might be grounds for rumors that neither of you are ready to face, at least that’s what you think. You and Namjoon don’t really discuss those things. You always see him in your periphery, though, and perhaps just like you, he just wants to be where you are, even if no pleasantries or conversations are shared. 

But Mr. Hong pulls him aside to introduce to Ms. Suh, and you can see from afar how Namjoon is fanboying over the artist whose work he’s very interested in. 

It’s nice to see him in his element like this, too. Here, though still a celebrity in the eyes of everyone else, he’s a spectator. He’s told you several times how his trips to these places have made him think about the kind of legacy he wants to leave with his music, with his poetry. And how pieces in museums and galleries are timeless, permanent; they live on regardless, and each person is free to make their own meanings. You know he wanted to comfort you then.

You become involved in your own conversations until someone barrels inside the gallery and makes a scene, of all days. The slightly inebriated man is familiar; perhaps a patron you’ve seen before, but he comes in and starts yelling at the staff, going on about something you can’t understand.

Not wanting to be part of the scene and be involved in something you don’t know how to handle, you slowly step away, that is, until you see him storm towards the room where your art pieces are. He seems to be targeting someone as he looks around, but the security gets to him first and he flails his arms around, eventually knocking over Untitled 56, and the cracking sound rings in the entire building.

“You knocked over a precious piece, you bastard!” You hear Mr. Hong yelling. 

You start walking slowly to where you see the shards of ceramic have fallen on the floor, and you’re unsure what you feel. Is it loss? It doesn’t seem like it. Is it anger? Perhaps not. 

“It’s just some useless flower anyway,” the raucous man answers.

Shame. You think that’s it, maybe that’s the feeling. Insecurity, sadness. It’s all of that yet nothing at all.

You stand there over your broken piece, the one you created while the rain was pouring and you’d just finished a bottle of wine by yourself because you could. Everyone seems to be as shocked as you, especially with the man finally contained and led out the building. You look up to take your eyes away from the scene, but you see Namjoon’s instead - anger filling his, sympathy, care, all at once.

You shake your head once, instructing him not to say or do anything. And he follows, loosening his clenched fist and stepping away to the back of the crowd. You instruct the staff to sweep the broken piece away, not wanting to see how fragile and temporary your creation is. All that had been reduced to shards and pitiful looks of the crowd.

You don’t really want to be here.

**

You’re filled with emotions you can’t name. You’re afraid to feel them all, so you cower on your couch and cry to yourself. 

It’s just a piece of useless flower. It’s the 56th of untitled works that you couldn’t name yourself because you didn’t know what they meant, what they symbolized, yet it hurts you this much that it’s gone. Hurt. Is that it? You’re still not sure.

The banging of your front door startles you. It’s 9PM and it’s been 4 hours since the incident. Minji offered to tell you the whole story but you didn’t really mind. You wonder if it’s her this time, wanting to know how you’re doing.

But it’s Namjoon, panting on your doorway when you open it. And the first thing you think to do is bury yourself in his arms.

It’s immediate, the catharsis of being in his hold. It’s like you’re enveloped in a warm, protective blanket that you don’t want to get out of. He embraces you tightly, letting you cry on his chest as you try to make sense of what you’re feeling. 

“I’ve got you,” he says in your ear so that the words don’t get lost in the sound of your sobs. “I’ve got you. Don’t tear yourself. I’m here with you.”

You don’t know for how long you both stand there, but it’s long enough for the tears to stop falling. When you’ve calmed down, Namjoon tilts your chin up to face him.

“Hey,” he greets with a soft smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t follow you right away. I wanted so badly to punch that man.”

The shift of emotions is immediate, as you see his furrowed brows.

“He didn’t have a right to be there and to ruin what you worked hard for. I asked Mr. Hong to look into him and I’m so sorry, ___. That piece… that piece is–”

“A useless flower,” you shake your head. 

“Please don’t listen to him. Listen to me,” Namjoon insists. “You know what I feel about it. That piece led me to you.”

“And now it’s gone.”

The thought hits you hard. That piece led you to each other, and temporary as it is, it’s now broken. Maybe art isn’t timeless, you think. It can burn, it can break, just like all things. Just like emotions. Just like what you and Namjoon have.

“It may be but look what it did for us,” he challenges your thoughts. “A broken piece won’t change us, it won’t erase us.”

Tonight, this is what you want to hear. And with his fingers tracing your cheek, you think that tonight, he is what you want to feel.

You pull him close and crash your mouth onto his. It’s fervent, desperate, wanting. There’s this need in you, this animalistic desire that has you wanting him to prove you wrong again - that some things can be touched and felt and that they’ll stay and won't break, that emotions can be just as real and tangible, that they matter and that it’s worth it. You want him to prove it to you with his mouth, his words, his touch, his body.

He answers back, inhaling you completely, his tongue working on yours right away, doing that dance you’ve both memorized by now. Your moans are loud and needy. You want all of him, all over you, and with the way he groans your name and curses as you grind against him, you think he feels the same. 

You’re in a haze, falling into hypnosis as you feel his hands all over you. You guide them to your clothed breasts, down your waist where he sneaks underneath. His touch burns so deliciously, and it’s what prompts you to unbutton his clothes, to feel him bare and naked, his skin against yours - raw, vulnerable, honest.

Things you don’t know how to be. 

You pull away, feeling as if you’ve been snapped out of the spell.

And then you’re crying, as you look at Namjoon with his top undone, looking at you curiously before he’s walking towards you in concern.

“No,” you almost scream. “I’m sorry, I– I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t supposed to. We’re not supposed to do this. We’re just… we’re just something that’s temporary and–”

“No,” he replies, surprising you. “Don’t be sorry, please. I wanted it, I still do. I want you. Fuck what we said about being just friends. I want more. I–”

“You don’t mean that,” you insist, not wanting to hear his words. 

It should comfort you, shouldn’t it? You’ve known long ago that you’ve fallen for him, but you made yourself believe that all things are temporary, and this one time you wanted something permanent with him, you got scared out of your mind. 

“I do,” he counters. “Fuck it, all I wanted to do earlier was hold you in my arms. Fuck the other people around who’d see. I just wanted to be with you. Is that what friends do? Is that what they feel? I have to be honest, right? We said we’d be that to each other. I want you, ___. I want to be with you.”

“I can’t, Joon. I can’t,” you sob. 

“Be honest with me this once. Do you want me?”

“Yes, so fucking much.”

“Then why can’t you be with me? Why are you making it so hard for yourself, for us?” He yells.

“I–” you start, but you don’t know how to continue. You cover your face with your hands and fall onto the floor.

You don’t think you’ve ever cried this hard, and you’re unsure exactly what you’re crying over.

“Hey,” Namjoon softens, leaning down next to you as he tries to free your face. “I’m not mad, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t even… I can’t even say what I want to say because I don’t know. I don’t–” you sniff. “I don’t know what I feel, what I want. I–”

“It’s okay,” he says, taking you in his arms again. “It’s okay. We can talk about it tomorrow. Just get some rest.”

He calms you down again and leads you to your room. He waits as you wash up and then he tucks you in bed. 

“I’ll come over in the morning, okay?” 

“Okay,” you whisper. You watch him eye your lips, and then he looks away. 

**

Namjoon comes over the next day with a basket of pastries and coffee. He knows enough that you won’t have energy to prepare anything to eat. 

You can’t imagine losing all this, but that’s what’s about to happen.

You’d been so close to giving in to him, so close to letting yourself be vulnerable to him, but doing so in flesh isn’t all there is to it. You can make love to him, bare your body to him that way but you wouldn’t be able to do it with your soul or your heart. 

What does being raw and honest mean? You don’t know. He deserves someone who knows.

“I still don’t know what I can give you,” you tell him as you both sit across from each other in the seating area in your garden. “Months later, I should know but I don’t. Even just moments, I… can’t. They make me want you more and I can’t. I don’t know exactly what I want - with myself, with my art, with you. I don’t know what to give.”

“You act like you’re the only one unsure,” he says softly. “I don’t know if what I can give you is enough. I mean, with what I do? It’s tough, and I don’t know if it would be fair. But I want you. I don’t know how the arrangements would be but I want you.”

“At least you know what you can give, even as you shine as bright as you do, you know yourself and what you can give me, what you can give us. I don’t.”

“But what if we try?”

“That’s unfair to you, Joon,” you insist. “You put your all into everything, and this - us - won’t be any different. But that just means that falling short would break you, and I can’t have that. And then there’s me who can’t give much of herself to anything - not my craft, not my friends, not myself. And you matter too much to only get the barest parts of me. I don’t want to be with you that way.”

Namjoon sighs. It’s not an easy thing to accept. It’s something he understands - all he’s ever known to do was to give his all to everything he wants to keep. If that’s not something you’re ready to do yourself, he can’t fault you for it. 

It hurts so fucking much, though. He’s learned in the course of these months of knowing you that you’re another one of those he wants to keep, that he wants more of, that he wants to learn inside and out - you’re also the first person to ever be that for him. For you to slip away like this is a kind of pain that he doesn’t know how to get over.

“Continue to be raw and honest in everything that you do, okay? Live,” you say, and he nods in reply. “Don’t stop yourself from seeing other people, from finding someone else,” you add. 

You can’t even be honest with this. You hope he’ll always want you, but you don’t let yourself be selfish with him, not this time.

“I won't” is what he answers. 

It breaks your heart all over again and you let it. You deserve it. Who walks away from someone they want, especially when they want you back? Someone afraid like you, someone who doesn’t trust herself enough like you, someone who wants permanence so bad that she lets slip away the one person who’s made her feel it.

You give a half smile and he smiles back.

Namjoon gets up from his seat. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Okay.”

It’s a month later when one of the museums you frequent launches a new installation. A tall man catches your attention. He looks at you and smiles, his hazelnut eyes gazing at you the way they used to. 

He nods in acknowledgement and so do you. 

And that’s the last time you see him in a long time. 

2022, winter

You stare at the package in your hands - white, with words of comfort. He’s finally completed it, you think. A piece of himself he’s been working the last 4 years on, and it looks just like how he described it to you all those months ago.

You don’t know if you’ll listen to it. You haven’t heard his voice in so long. You’re afraid you’ll break if you do. 

Perhaps just one time, to get it off your system. That might be enough.

You open it, unsure when you’ll unpack this obviously beautifully curated work of art. But the note at the top leaves you no room to ignore it.

Nothing’s changed for me. Let’s find ourselves. And then let’s find each other. I’ll just be here. But please, stay where you are.

Namjoon

You let one tear fall and then leave the package on the top shelf of your closet.

Your bedroom door opens.

“Are you all packed?” Minji asks. 

“Yes, I’m all good,” you smile. 

She helps you with your luggage, down the stairs and into the van waiting for you.

“That’s a lot of stuff,” she hums, holding back her tears. “How long will you be away for?”

“Until I find myself.”

“That might be a long time.”

“It will.”

**

**

**

2025, winter

Namjoon has been to several galleries in New York, but this particular one is a place he’s never been to. It overlooks Central Park, towering at the 30th floor like the other buildings in the city. But it’s 3 floors and he thinks it’s stunning. It’s not overly grand, but it’s also not as simple and natural like the others he’s been to.

He may say it’s not entirely his vibe, but there’s a reason why he’s here. 

Some patrons recognize him and greet him. He bows in response, engaging in small talk when he needs to, but stepping away to get to the exhibition he flew here to see.

It’s nothing like what he expected, although years later, he doesn’t know what to expect anymore.

The first thing is, well, it’s titled. There’s a year and a description, too.

2023, swing in the summer home

The piece is beautiful, made in clay and metal. It’s familiar, too. He’s seen this on a lake house by the mountains, over 3 years ago.

2023, the piece that lost its meaning

It’s a painting, but one placed atop a sculpted frame hanging on a wall in what seems like a living room. This scene feels familiar as well.

2024, lost youth

A group of children look up at a plane, with opened suitcases and toys on the floor. The nostalgia hits him.

The rest of the sculptures are new to him. There’s one about a lady in red, one of a neighbor, one of a woman with an umbrella and clouds, aptly titled, what am i hiding from? Further down the room, the emotions become more pointed, straightforward, and a lot more focused. 

2023, coward

2024, i truly was sorry

2025, is this what regret feels like?

2025, i hope you knew i lied

2025, maybe someday

Someone from the outside who knows nothing about the artist might think that the pieces are a little over the place, although one can tell from the titles that they tell a story. The sculptures are made from the same materials - clay and metal, all free standing and in similar sizes. Each caption holds a narration, and all Namjoon can read are words describing emotions, of states of being - innocence, anger, confusion, fear, loss, regret, loneliness, pain, hope, and few more. 

There’s not much about joy or intimacy, though, and the thought saddens him. He had hoped that by this time, you already knew how those felt.

“So, what do you think?”

Namjoon didn’t think he’d ever hear that voice again. He’d cry if he could, especially as he turns to his side and finds you, dressed in a classy, aegean blue satin dress. Your smile is one he’s missed so much, and he wishes he could frame this moment, just so he doesn’t forget. He almost did, and he hated himself when he took so long to remember how you sounded like, how you looked like.

“Nothing like I imagined,” Namjoon replies. “In a good way.”

“I scrapped previous works and experimented with these ones. It took me years to complete,” you explain. “I almost stopped at one point, wondering if anybody would ever get it but then I figured, it didn’t matter. It’s a good thing that lifestyle magazine reached out for a feature. I think that was Mr. Hong pulling some strings. At least I got to say that for years, I didn’t know what I was doing, who I was, but now I do.”

“That’s how I knew about it, actually,” Namjoon hums. “It was in the art gallery because he was giving it away for free. It said your exhibition was here, so I flew in.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “I thought you had a show or filming.”

“Nah,” Namjoon sighs. “I came here for you. Otherwise I wouldn’t know where to find you, or how else to see you. You stopped… you stopped showing up. You just disappeared.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” 

It’s all you can say, really. You didn’t expect to see him here, but when you saw a familiar face enter through the doors, your heart stopped. You had a feeling Mr. Hong had told Namjoon about your exhibition - your first in 4 years. But nothing would have prepared you for this - seeing him again after you walked away from the one good thing you found in your life. You watched him from afar as he went through each of your pieces, perhaps savoring them, remembering them.

“Have you been well?” He asks, the concern still overpowering everything.

“I have.”

“You seem to have lost someone,” he says, nodding towards one of the pieces. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“She was my neighbor when I spent 8 months in Sweden,” you share. “She took care of me but then she passed away due to an accident. It was hard for a while.”

“I–” Namjoon reaches out his hand - for comfort, perhaps - but he brings it down. “I wish I knew.”

“It’s okay. And I’m okay. It’s been a year, but I wouldn’t have finished all this without her.”

You’d forgotten how silence sounded like with Namjoon, and you want to remember what it was like. You remember a lot of things, actually, like his laughter, his voice, his smile, the feel of his lips on yours, and many others. 

“How long are you here for?” You finally ask, as you both walk side-by-side past the rest of the artworks inside, with a bit of distance between you.

“I’m here for 3 more days.”

“I stay at the hotel next to the building,” you say, being bold. “I leave here in 2 hours.”

You fumble for your room key and discreetly hand it over to him. “3802, if you want to. I have more to say, and I– uh, shit. If you’re seeing someone, forget what I said.”

“I’m not,” he answers. “I’ll be there.”

**

Namjoon watches the city from your full-wall window, wondering when you’d decide to finally speak beyond a greeting. It’s been 10 minutes since he arrived at your suite with the key you gave him, and you haven’t said anything since then.

“The buildings aren’t the same here,” you finally say. “I’ve been here for 3 months and the sounds of the cars are too loud, there’s too much smoke, people don’t smile… I don’t have anyone here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I decided to finish some of my pieces in the city. I’ve been staying at one of my parents’ apartments not far from here.”

“And where were you before that?”

“Puerto Rico, Greece, Sweden,” you answer. 

“When I said to find ourselves, I didn’t think you’d actually leave, and then not tell me about it,” he laments. “I knew it was stupid to wish you’d stay close. You weren’t in any of the places where I used to see you, where we used to go. I… I asked around but they said you haven’t visited in so long.”

“I couldn’t stay,” you try to explain. “I couldn’t because it just meant waiting for you to come even if I was the one who walked away. And I knew I wouldn’t be able to find myself in a place where I’d always be looking for you, and so I had to go. I’m so sorry, Joon. I–” 

You drop the hand that reaches out to him, unsure if your touch would still be welcome. You clench your fist to stop yourself from doing it again, but he notices. He notices and takes your hand, uncurls it so he can hold it properly.

“How was it being away?”

“It was good. Hard. Terrifying,” you share. “I experienced a lot of new, fun things. I learned a lot. Made a lot of mistakes, too. I met so many people. I–”

“Were you with anyone?” he asks, turning away briefly.

“No, I… I couldn’t bring myself to,” you answer nervously. “And you?”

“No one since you. There was a reason why I asked you to stay right there, so that I knew where to find you.”

“You still found me, 3 years later, on the other side of the world.”

“I had to know if anything’s changed for you. I had to know if you made it, if you found what you were looking for. I had to know if you were happy. But you didn’t create it. There was no piece for it.”

“I found what I was looking for,” you say, looking into his eyes, glancing at his fingers that are softly exploring yours. “I realized that I could only gain whatever permanence I was looking for if I learned to let them go. Because if they come back, they stay. I walked away from you then, and I had to lose myself to all the emotions that I was so scared to feel. And I felt a lot of them, Joon. I felt a lot of things. I was going to go back home after this. But you came to me first. You’re the one always finding me. That hasn’t changed.”

“I suppose it hasn’t,” he cracks a smile. “Did I take too long?”

“You were right on time,” you say. “I would’ve come for you in a few days though. But I’m glad you’re here so that I can tell you that I can finally have this. I can finally give you everything without being scared, without it breaking me, without it ruining the ones I love.”

“Is that what you feel for me?”

“Yes. I guess I did then. I still do now.”’ 

There’s uncertainty in your voice, perhaps due to the fear of him no longer returning what you feel. 

“I found myself, too,” he says. “I figured out what I wanted to do for myself, what more I can give, what more I desired. And I guess you’re right. That permanence can come from losing something and then having them back. And then having them stay. So many times then I regretted that I wasn’t more honest. That I was denying what I felt for you because I was scared of losing what little of a normal life I was afforded. I wished I told you much earlier, but I guess things happen when they do, right?”

“Right, but you can also say them again now.”

“That I want you close, holding my hand, tracing my skin, kissing me? That I want all that everyday?” He smiles, as he pulls you towards him and places your hand on his chest. “That I want everything from you? That I haven’t stopped thinking of you, wishing for you?”

“Yes,” you say, sighing into the kiss you’ve missed too much. 

There’s that tenderness you expected, but the desire is unlike the times before. There’s more confidence now, more security in the way his mouth moves against yours. It’s as if he knows that he’ll always have this. That this time, he’s loving you in more than words, and that you’ve come back, and that you’ll stay.

Namjoon presses you against the wall, lets his lips trace down your neck and your chest. He undresses you, remarks that he’s starting to believe in a higher being who created a body like yours, and then proceeds to mouth more praises down your thighs and in between them.

He takes you slowly, amorously. He watches your face contort in pure pleasure, and you mention needing to add a piece for this, too. The way he goes in and out of you is out of this world, and you never want it to end.

You’d think it’s the intimacy you didn’t know how to feel. But it’s more than that. In fact, you find that in being with Namjoon, the intimacy is in everything - the way he holds your hand, the way he wraps his arm around you, the way he lets you bite his arm and tickle him just for fun. It’s in the way he kisses your forehead before he kisses your lips.

It’s in your bike rides together and watching the river whenever you catch a glimpse of it. It’s in your moments of calm - reading books, writing songs, sketching.

It’s in the deep, tender way that he says he loves you. 

You don’t have a piece for this yet. Perhaps it’s another series altogether. Perhaps it’ll require an installation. 

Or maybe, this is the one emotion you don’t need to put into art, the one that you’ll keep for yourself to hold onto because no clay and metal mixture, no tangible piece, could ever describe what this love and intimacy feels like. 

Permanent Taglist: @sherlynxx @di0rgguk @thequeen-kat @fan-ati–c @cravingforhotchocolate @adoraminie @helenazbmrskai @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @preciouschimine @gukssunshine @nch327 @kookxin @petuliii @yoursthv @libra04 @fancycollectormoon @twixxxpie @ignoretheskies @ohmydarlin-g @bids97 @minyoongiboongi @main-bangtansmauyeondan @bora-bae7 @investedreader @petalsofink​

[notoriousbeb]

Why is Harry Styles All Over TTPD? A Timeline

TTPD Notes Glossary

Upon much ponderation and rabbit-hole-ing I think a truly stunning chunk of tracks on this double album (20) are her processing her feelings for whatever the hell happened with Harry.  

What will likely be my Haylor magnum opus is under the cut because it is a bit lengthy. Good luck. Or I'm sorry??

I think they both pined for each other for years (well documented amongst the Haylors).  

Then she split with Joe Alwyn before she left London for the Eras Tour, but she waited to make the announcement public (probably to give him time to pack up his shit and get out of their shared house) until April 8. However, excited to be “Fresh Out the Slammer,” she reached out to Harry ASAP.  

I realize I might sound like an absolute raving lunatic, but I legit think Harry was at Taylor’s Arlington, Texas, Eras Tour shows, at the end of March/beginning of April 2023, and followed her to New York City for several days. 

While Harry was tied up finishing up the Asian leg of his tour until March 25, I think he came almost straight to her after that, and love-bombed the shit out of her in his excitement.

But then right before he had to leave for tour, with a stopover in LA for the Satellite video and Late Late Show shoots, he gave her some sort of pulling-away speech about taking a pause or pulling back or something, (I’d wager because of the two world tours), which she took as a total rejection, which caused her to lose it and move on to the disaster we call Matty. 

Then, in June, he met Taylor Russell in London. And maybe they were just friends at first, but then Taylor Swift started messing around with Matty, and then in July she started dating Travis and it went public in September. So, I suppose at that point Harry figured, "Okay, to hell with it."  

And now, somewhere in London, I imagine their shared good mate, Ed Sheeran, has a pounding headache and wishes he still drank whiskey.  

I hope the truth of it all someday comes to light in a tell-all book or movie. Or, at the very least, it would be nice if some more clarity surfaces in one of their albums, or a record by Ed.  

Oh, and I think Stevie Nicks, of all fucking people, knows the tea. She considers both of them “like [her] children.” She gave them both matching crescent moon necklaces. And has performed with them. And she wrote the intro poem for this record. Read that and tell me it doesn’t match the story I’ve written in my head. Stevie knows.

And now, the timeline. @foxes-that-run Also has a much more detailed 2023 timeline that I recommend.

There are, I shit you not, about a fortnight of possible days (March 29/30-April 12, 2023) where they could have been together...

March 29/30

Harry likely leaves Toyko after his March 25 show. Love on Tour doesnt start up again until May 13 in Horsens, Denmark.

March 31

Eras Tour is in Arlington, Texas, for N1. It's a rain show. She replaces "Invisible String” with "The 1." The surprise songs were "Sad Beautiful Tragic" and "Ours." Read all my notes on TTPD and go watch these two live performances again. They're...really something.

April 1

She sings "Death by a Thousand Cuts" and "Clean."

April 2

She sings "Jump then Fall" and "The Lucky One."

April 3-6

Neither of them are seen these three days.

April 7

Harry is spotted at baggage claim in Atlanta

April 9

Harry is at the Master's Golf Tournament

April 10

Maybe this is when he leaves her. Taylor goes out for drinks with Jack and Margaret. However, this was an obvious pap walk (the day she had those butterfly jeans on); were the paps maybe called to this location to lure them away from her apartment so a certain person might or might not have could arrive unnoticed after a golf tournament in Atlanta?

April 12

In the afternoon, Harry is spotted with his trusty brown duffel bag (sporting an air travel tag) leaving the gym in LA. In NYC, Taylor is pictured on the roof of Electric Lady (maybe shooting music video?) with a Gucci lion ring just like Harry's but with a green stone. I Mr not the 10th, I think this evening was when he said whatever he said that made her so sad; maybe he thought they should take a pause until their tours were over? Maybe he decided their combined spotlights were just too big to overcome? Who knows? Not me. But my nosy ass wants to know!

April 13

Eras Tour in Tampa N1. Taylor cries during “Lover"

April 14

Eras Tour in Tampa N2. She plays "The Great War" (performed with Aaron Dessner) and "You're On Your Own, Kid."

April 15

Eras Tour in Tampa N2. She plays "Treacherous."

April 21

Eras Tour in Houston N1. She plays "Wonderland" and "You're Not Sorry" (these choices seem…significant. In a not good way.)

April 22

N2 in Houston. She plays "A Place in This World" and "Today Was a Fairytale" (for her mom, who I am sure was being a rock for her at this trying time)

April 23

N3 in Houston. She plays "Begin Again" and "Cold as You"

April 27 and 28

Harry does shoots for the "Satellite" music video and the last episode of the Late Late Show. The scenes for the music video aren't used. In my opinion his face looks puffy on Late Late (maybe from crying?)

Eras Tour Atlanta N1 Taylor sings "The Other Side of the Door" and "Coney Island."

April 30

Eras Tour Atlanta N3 she sings "I Bet You Think About Me" and "How You Get the Girl." She cries again during “Champagne Problems."

May 5-7

Ah, the Nashville Era's Tour shows. Such fond, fond memories. She sang “Sparks Fly,” “Teardrops on My Guitar,“ "Out of the Woods,” “Fifteen” (Abigail was there, and she dedicated this one to her)," Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve” with Aaron Dessner and “Mine” (also Speak Now drop).

May 11

Dinner with Matty and Jack and Margaret at Casa Cipriani in NYC

Is it possible the villainy of Matty is that he planted the original story in The Sun that he and Taylor were dating? It ran May 3, two days before he showed up (from Asia) to the Eras Tour play with Phoebe Bridgers as the opening act in Nashville. I just always thought that was odd. Maybe he had a big fat mouth.

May 12

Eras Tour Philadelphia N1. She played “Gold Rush” and “Come Back…Be Here” (Aww, girl….)

May 13

LOT picks up again in Horsens, Denmark. He's smiling to himself all cute like during "Fine Line." Plus he played "Stockholm Syndrome" for the first time in yeeeears and looked delighted. :(

Taylor's surprise songs were “Forever & Always” and “This Love.”

May 15

Either way, she leaves Electric Lady studios with Matty in tow.

May 19

She plays "Should've Said No" and "Better Man." (Well, that's seems...not good.)

May 20

Ah, the day of the “Question…?” and “Invisible” combo. (Oh, Tay). Matty is seen entering Taylor's apartment with a big Louis bag full of what many people believe is the typewriter. I always assumed it was clothes or a synthesizer or some kind of equipment. ¯\_(ツ)_/

May 25

This is the last day she was seen with Matty (and the chorus of angels sang)

But, really, only he was seen outside her apartment leaving with his stuff. She wasn’t in town. 

They were never seen together again after May 15. 

May 26

Era's Tour Metlife N1. She sings “Getaway Car” with Jack Antonoff and “Maroon” (this was a very angry face Maroon).

May 27

Metlife N2. She sings “Holy Ground” and “False God," and cries.

June 22

Taylor records “The Black Dog” at Electric Lady. “Six weeks of breathing clean air,” if we’re being specific here (although she was touring and it could have just sounded good) would be May 11, 2023.

August 13

Stevie Nicks owns the opening poem for the album.

[seeminglyranch87]

Taylor & Travis Timeline

October 2024 - Part 4

October 24 - Travis at training with KC Chiefs

Dudes On Dudes Podcast with Gronk & Edelman discuss the talent of Tight End Travis Kelce (x 9:44)

(21:04) Travis dating Taylor...

Edelman "[Travis is] a superstar" Gronk "a super-superstar" Edelman "he's dating Taylor [f*ing] Swift and they might have a kid" Gronk "they should have a kid, they should!" Edelman "that would be a great kid!"

(24:05) Gronk & Edelman discuss if Travis is a freak or a dawg...

Edelman "He's a freak in in the sheets" (24:05)

October 25 - The Eras tour, Caesar's Superdome, New Orleans Louisiana N1. Stadium decorated with giant inflatable friendship bracelets.

Taylor's speech before playing ATW 10mv referencing friendship bracelets...

There’s just so many things that you’ve done that have made this tour feel more special than any tour I’ve done, like, I write one song that has a line about, ‘Make the friendship bracelets in it,’ and all of a sudden I show up at the tour, and you guys are making bracelets, and trading them, and making new friends, and giving them to people, and just spreading so much joy and now just, fast-forward, we come to play New Orleans, and there’s a giant friendship bracelet on the outside of this stadium, like, that’s all you. You have made this tour into this just magnificent display of joy and excitement, and that’s why I’ve had just honestly more fun on this tour than I can ever have imagined.

📸 Erika Goldring, 25 October 2024

TTPD era: Taylor doing the Archer pose during intro to So High School (x)

New dress for the acoustic section. A personal favourite.

Our Song x Call it What You Want (guitar) & Black Dog x Haunted (piano)

"... and I hope its sh*tty in the Black Dog".

Timely considering rumours of her ex.

Taylor during Midnight Rain pitches a ball to the lyrics "You never think of me except when I'm on TV".

Taylor Nation spreading the Tayvis love (x)

October 26 - Travis likes this comment on his post today (x)

The Eras tour, Caesar's Superdome, New Orleans, Louisiana N2

Espresso x Is it Over Now? x Please Please Please with Sabrina Carpenter (x guitar) & Hits Different x Welcome To New York (piano)

"Touch Down!!!" during Midnight Rain - see TN post (x)

Travis arrives in Las Vegas ahead of game

October 27 - Chiefs v Raiders, Allegiant Stadium, Las Vegas, NV.

Chiefs defeat Raiders 27 - 20, a seventh straight win for the Chiefs.

Travis scored a touch down on National Tight Ends Day (x).

Travis post game with a hat advertising his restaurant venture with Patrick Mahomes.

The Eras tour, Caesar's Superdome, New Orleans, Louisiana N3

Afterglow x Dress (guitar) & How You Get The Girl x Clean (piano)

Highlights:

Taylor improvises during performance of Down Bad when the moving platform fails to work (x).

Taylor mimics Travis' first down signal then blows a kiss with 3 fingers wishing for a three-peat in the Super Bowl (x) during Midnight Rain

Taylor sings "Karma is the guy on the Chiefs coming straight home to me" in celebration of Travis' team winning earlier today (x)

Taylor Nation picking up on the signals...

October 29 - A fan sits next to Scott Swift on a flight from New Orleans and he shares his pride in his daughter and pleasure in seeing Taylor date Travis among other things (x)

The fan recounts "how much [Scott] loves Travis for [Taylor]... out of all her boyfriends in the last 12 years that Travis has made the biggest impact and that Travis has a phenomenal family... he loves them together"

Fan also posts about Scott Swift's love of #Tayvoodoo (x)

NFL post to TT (x)

New Heights Ep.

New Heights Ep.107 airs (x) with guest Niecy Nash.

Grotesquerie co-star Niecy reveals that she is regularly asked about Travis' relationship with Taylor and that she doesn't talk.

Travis responds to Niecy...

“You know it’s real and you know me and Tay are absolutely happy so thank you for showing love whenever they put that mic in front of you”

Look what Travis liked (x) baby Tay.

Go to previous update -> October 2024 part 3

Go to next update -> TBC

Return to the timeline

[yumiyue07]

Through Fire and Blood

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★ POV: K-idol x reader

H/N = His name Y/N = Your name

M/N1 = Member 1’s name (choose any member of your bias’ group) M/N2 = Member 2’s name (choose any member of your bias’ group

Trigger warning: none ｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

The doctor waiting for you, known to everyone as "Saint," was more than just a skilled physician—he was a lifeline to those like H/N who walked the thin line between survival and destruction. He had earned his moniker through his near-miraculous ability to patch up wounds that couldn't see the inside of a hospital, not just because of legal complications but because they lived in the shadows. Saint had always been there when H/N or his men needed saving, his expertise a vital part of their survival.

"Quickly, over here," he urged, his voice steady and commanding. Tall and broad-shouldered, with sharp, chiseled features, Saint didn’t exactly fit the stereotype of a back-alley doctor. He had once joked with H/N about becoming a model, and with his intense eyes and striking face, he easily could’ve been. H/N, half-serious, had asked him once, "Ever think of giving this all up and living the good life? Maybe on the cover of a magazine instead of covered in blood?"

"Nah, I'd rather save lives than smile for a camera. Somebody’s gotta keep you alive," Saint had replied dryly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. The two had a unique bond, built on trust and a shared understanding of the risks they both took in their respective roles.

M/N1 and M/N2 helped H/N inside, where Saint had already set up his impromptu operating area. The room was well-lit and organized, equipped with everything needed to handle emergencies like this. The doctor’s calm demeanor was a stark contrast to the chaos you had just escaped.

"Lay him here," he instructed, pointing to a makeshift bed. Saint worked quickly, his hands moving with an efficiency that spoke of years spent saving lives on the fringes of society. The bright overhead light cast harsh shadows across the room, highlighting the gravity of H/N’s condition. Your grip on H/N's hand tightened as you kept the pressure on his wound, feeling the warmth of his blood seep through the cloth.

"You don’t need to be here for this," Saint said quietly as he prepared his tools. "But I can see there’s no point in arguing with you."

You hesitated, not wanting to leave H/N's side as you had promised. Saint looked at you, his expression softening slightly. "All right, but if you throw up, I'll kick you out on the spot."

You managed a weak smile despite the tension. "I’m not going anywhere. I got this."

Saint gave a slight nod, his attention already back on H/N. "Good. Then keep talking to him. Keep him grounded."

You leaned closer to H/N, brushing his damp hair away from his forehead. His breathing was shallow, and his skin was clammy beneath your fingers. "I’m right here," you whispered softly. "You’re not alone."

H/N’s lips twitched into a faint smile. "I’m glad… because I don’t think Saint’s much of a talker," he rasped, his voice weak but laced with a hint of his usual humor.

Saint snorted softly, not looking up from his work. "You’re right about that," he muttered, carefully cleaning the wound. "But if you want to keep making jokes, that’s a good sign."

"Guess you’re stuck with me again," H/N added weakly.

Saint shook his head, his expression serious but gentle. "Stay with us, H/N. You’re going to be fine," he replied, focusing on the wound.

A knot of fear loosened slightly in your chest at Saint’s words. Despite the gravity of the situation, there was hope. You leaned in closer, your voice trembling with a mix of relief and emotion. "You hear that? You’re going to be just fine. We’re going to get through this."

H/N’s eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a mixture of exhaustion and affection. "As long as you’re with me, I’ll always be fine," he murmured, his grip on your hand tightening for a brief moment.

Saint glanced up briefly, his expression softening for the first time since you'd arrived. "He’s tougher than he looks. Just don’t let go of him," he said quietly.

You nodded, your heart swelling with both fear and love. "Never," you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to H/N’s forehead as Saint continued his work, determined to save the man you couldn’t imagine living without.

You held H/N’s hand, squeezing it tightly as Saint worked. His movements were swift and precise, each gesture a testament to his years of experience patching up those who lived dangerous lives. Every second felt like an eternity to you, but Saint's calm confidence offered a thread of reassurance. He cleaned the wound carefully, stitching it up with a practiced hand, his voice steady as he spoke.

"Just keep holding his hand," Saint said, his tone measured and controlled, designed to keep you focused and hopeful. "He’s a tough one, Y/N. This isn’t the first time I’ve patched him up, and I guess it won’t be the last."

"Will he be okay?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with worry.

Saint looked up from his work, his eyes meeting yours with a reassuring gaze. "He’ll be fine," he said, his voice calm. "The puncture missed any major organs. He’ll need rest and time to recover, but he’ll be back to his old self soon enough. Let him stay here tonight, and if he’s stable enough by tomorrow, I’ll clear him to go home. I’ll continue his treatment there."

He paused for a moment, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Y/N, you can stay with him tonight, of course. Otherwise, he’ll probably rip my head off the second he wakes up."

A soft smile broke through your tension, a light in the midst of your exhaustion. "Thank you, Saint. I don’t know what we’d do without you."

Saint nodded, his expression shifting back to its usual seriousness. "Just doing my job. But make sure he rests—he’s been through hell, even if he won’t admit it."

Relief flooded through you as you leaned down to press a gentle kiss on H/N’s forehead. "You hear that?" you whispered, your lips brushing his skin. "You’re going to be okay." You knew the anesthesia had already pulled him into unconsciousness, but the words were for you, too—an affirmation.

Saint finished wrapping the last bandage with practiced care, stepping back to wipe his hands on a towel. "Keep a close watch on him, and if anything feels off, you let me know immediately."

You nodded, your eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Saint. We owe you."

"Now, let me quickly take care of your wound," he said, his voice filled with concern.

You had already forgotten about the wound Cobra had inflicted on your face with the knife. He assessed the injury carefully, his movements gentle and precise. After finishing, he said, "There won't be a scar. You don't need to worry about it. I'll give you an ointment to help the healing process. It's the same one you can use for H/N's wounds."

"Thanks again, Saint," you replied.

He gave you a rare, softened smile, his usual stoicism giving way for just a moment. "Take care of each other," he said gently, before turning to leave you alone with H/N.

Saint had left to update M/N1 and M/N2 about H/N’s condition, and it wasn’t long before they quietly entered the room. The tension from earlier had eased, but their expressions still held traces of concern.

"We’re so relieved that H/N is going to be alright," M/N1 said, his hand resting on your shoulder with a comforting grip.

M/N2 smiled warmly, his voice filled with sincerity. "And we’re really glad to have you back safe with us. It wasn’t the same, or should I say he wasn’t the same without you."

You smiled, feeling a wave of warmth at their words. "I’m happy to be back too. There were moments I didn’t think I’d ever see you all again." Your voice cracked slightly as you continued, "But thanks to all of you, I’m here, safe and sound."

M/N1’s expression grew serious as he bowed his head slightly, followed by M/N2. "We’re sorry you had to go through that. This won’t happen ever again."

"No need to apologize," you replied, your eyes welling up with emotion. "The important thing is that we all made it out, especially H/N." You glanced down at him, his still form reminding you how close the danger had come.

M/N2 nodded, his voice light with reassurance. "He’ll be his old self in no time. You’ll see."

M/N1 cleared his throat, drawing your attention back. "Y/N, we need to leave and handle the aftermath. Police, syndicate issues... you know the drill. But don’t worry. Saint’s got you covered, and we’ll send reinforcements soon. Is there anything you need before we go?"

You shook your head gently, your gaze soft as it rested on H/N. "Thank you, but all I need is right here beside me." Your fingers lightly brushed through his hair, the steady rise and fall of his chest calming you. "Please, go take care of everything. I’ll stay here with H/N. If anything happens, I’ll reach out to Saint."

M/N2 gave you a nod. "Alright. We’re leaving now. See you later."

With a final glance at H/N and a silent agreement between them, M/N1 and M/N2 quietly slipped out, leaving you to watch over the man who meant everything to you.

After M/N1 and M/N2 left, you settled in next to H/N, refusing to let your guard down even though the immediate danger had passed. His breathing had steadied, the deep flush of color gradually returning to his cheeks. With each gentle rise and fall of his chest, you felt a glimmer of hope grow stronger within you.

You absently stroked his hair, your fingers tracing through the strands as if reassuring yourself that he was really there, alive. The rhythm of his heartbeat, though faint, was like a steady anchor keeping you grounded.

Saint came in periodically to check on H/N, moving with the quiet efficiency you had come to expect from him. After one such check, he lingered for a moment longer than usual. "He’s a tough one," Saint said softly, his eyes briefly meeting yours. "But he’ll need you by his side, especially for the next few days."

You nodded, your voice filled with quiet determination. "I’ll be with him. Every step of the way."

Saint gave you a reassuring nod before slipping out once more, leaving you alone with H/N.

The night stretched on, but you didn’t feel the exhaustion that had earlier threatened to overwhelm you. Being here with him, despite everything, brought you a strange sense of peace.

With your hand in his, you sat by his side, watching over him. Even after everything you had endured, as long as you had him, you knew you could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

To be continued...

♡

It's my birthday today ヽ(*⌒▽⌒*)ﾉ ♡ To celebrate, I’m sharing a brand new chapter of my story! 📖✨ Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 💖🎂

Please like, share, and follow! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Stay tuned for part 21!

Love, YumiYue 🌙

(⌒▽⌒)♡

Follow me on: 📸 Instagram: @yumiyue07 🎵 TikTok: @yumiyue07 📝 Wattpad: @LunaVerse_YumiYue

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by Stray Kids’ song “Freeze”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

All rights reserved. Please do not repost or reproduce this story without permission.

© 2024 LunaVerse - YumiYue07. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

Tag list ♡ @catlove83 @burningemberz

[bubblessunshinehoney]

I have a request if you don't mind. Steve Rogers constantly telling everyone to not pick favourites amongst avengers recruits but then the reader comes around. They get close to each other and eventually start dating and he very much realizes he's glad he did pick a favorite after all

Rule n1: no favourite allowed

A/N: Hey there, I'm so sorry I took so long to write this request. But between some mental health issues and physical health issues, the past months have been hard on me. I'm getting through it slowly but surely and finding my muse back. I hope you will like it!

TW: none, just fluff. Written on my phone. No beta read, English is not my first language, all mistakes are my own.

Don't be shy: reblog, comment and like !

Love,

Cloudy !

Dividers : @firefly-graphics

Steve was very clear about it: "no favourite allowed. They are recruits, agents, they are all equal".

Everything was going well, everyone was following this number one rule, even though, Sam, Nat or even Bucky had some preferences with the recruits. Then you came, and it was clear, everybody loved you.

You became quickly friends with Nat and Wanda, Sam loved to bicker with you and you could even make Bucky snort a laugh. And there was Steve, he tried to keep his distance, try to be professional.

Yes you were an amazing recruit, you will become their new best agent and of course, you got along with everybody so it was a big plus.

But Steve didn't understand what was happening in his head and his heart. You were sweet, you listened to him, carefully, following his orders, doing your best and being the best. He was proud of you, he appreciated seeing you get better to hand to hand combat, and he loved to see you get along with his friends and his family. You started to come around more in the compound and participated in every evening: movies, games, pizza nights...

He missed you when you had to go on missions without him. He didn't sleep well at night, waiting to have news about the team, about you.

On your side, you liked Steve. A lot. A all lot. He wasn't like other guys you've met. He was polite, a true gentleman...a good friend and a good mentor. You felt safe with him, you knew he would be there if you needed him, like all of the Avengers.

It was nice to have found true friends.

You knew about his number one rule and you lived to see him struggle to keep it at bay for you. You wanted him and you knew...he had a crush on you... especially after one mission where you've been hurt. You had to spend one week at the medical bay, and Steve came every day to see you, for 4 hours. Every day he came with flowers and something to eat, he gifted you some books too, knowing you loved to read, he gave you a Spotify playlist, with all his favourite music. He was blushing hard for this one, feeling like a teenager and stupid. You loved every single attention and your crush for the captain was even bigger.

"Steve...forget about this rule, it's stupid.", declared Bucky. " You're clearly falling in love with her and she likes you too. Stop being the captain for a minute and be just Steve. You deserve it."

The Captain sighed, heavily. He knew his best friend was right. He couldn't deny it anymore, you had stolen his heart in the best way, made him feel more alive than he had ever felt.

You came to the game night, like always with some pastries made by you. When you arrived, nobody was there...except for Steve, who was dressed casually but nicely, his hair was trimmed.

"Hey Cappy!", you cheered. He smiled at you.

"Hey, sweetie ", you blinked at the nickname. Never in you're 2 years working with him, he has ever given you a nickname. You loved it. You smiled and gave him the box full of pastries.

" I baked cinnamon rolls, your favourite."

He took the box from you and kissed your cheek. "My favourite", he whispered, making you shiver.

You smiled up at him and he smiled back, his eyes full of love and you blushed.

"So...its just the two of us?", you asked.

Steve smiled wider and nodded slowly. "If you want it to be just us, yes. I would love to have a date night with you."

"And what about your number one rule, captain?".

"You have the answer in your question. I'm the captain, I make the rules".

You laughed and patted his cheek, then stroked it with your thumb, making him lean into your touch. You couldn't realise that it was true. That he finally caved and accepted that...the attirance was mutual.

You got on your tiptoes, his eyes following you and you slowly pressed your lips against his. Steve kissed you back, tenderly, holding the small of your back. You felt sparkles in your chest and butterflies in your stomach, passing your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Steve held you close to him, putting the box on the table, to hug you close.

"It's not always too bad to pick up a favourite", he mumbled against your lips, making you giggle.

"Damn right, stevie".

He kissed you hard, and you gasped, holding him tight.

"Damn right, sweetie.", he answered, before kissing your nose. "Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

You smiled, your Steve, always the gentleman. " I would love to be your girlfriend, boyfriend."

The end !

[sofasoap]

Ner Kar'ta

Pairing : Din Djarin x f!reader. 

Summary:  Din claiming back what is rightfully his.

part 6 and finale to Heartbreak

MAJOR Warning : Bit of spoilers for Season 3, turn back now if you haven’t watched it. 

N1 is cool, but it is too small. Din got something else. 

Mature theme. strong languages.  All mando’a are from the good old google, soooooo might be full of mistakes. And the timeline and lores might be a bit funky. It’s AU. just… roll with it. 

English isn’t my first language, so I apologise for any mistakes. 

A/N: I really want to thank @groguspicklejar , @deakyjoe and all the readers to push me to write this series, I had a lot of fun writing this. Never would I thought from turning from Din fanfic reader to Din fanfic writer.  One of my new year resolutions was to be more creative either to start to write or draw.  So thank you, again, for pushing me out of my comfort zone. 

MASTERLIST for the previous stories to this 6 and half part fic.

Bird chirping, sounds of waterfall in the distance slowly waking you up. You buried yourself deeper into your silky bedsheet and duvet, trying hard to fall back to sleep. Not often you get to sleep in such a nice comfortable bed since you went on the run. Turning a little, searching the warmth of your riduur.

A stinging sensation followed by a dull headache pulls you back into awakeness. Slowly opening your eyes, you were met with an unfamiliar yet familiar ceiling, one that you wake up everyday since you were young. Shocking realisation hit you. 

YOU ARE ON NABOO. 

“... I have new information from Bo-Katan where the living water might be in Mandalore. There might be a chance it’s actually safe. The curse might be a lie after all.” Din murmured into your hair. 

“I was planning to make a trip there before Karga called me unexpectedly about the bounty.” He pulled away from you a bit, “I don’t want you to leave my side but I have to do this on my own, I have to redeem myself.” Although you don’t really agree with his fixation of redeeming himself and angry with his own Covert is so readily to abandon him after what he has done for them? Deep down you know this is very important for Din, you just have to let him do it. But something is nagging you, nudging you that it would not go all smooth sailing as he wishes, So you encourage him to take his son with him. “Take Grogu with you. Show him Manda’yim. Beside, I am sure our little ad’ika would love to go on an adventure with his buir.” our ad’ika 

You will be safe here with Fett under his protection. So he thought. So does everyone else. Who would be bold enough to harm the Daimyo’s personal ward? How wrong they were. Din should know your parents wouldn’t put the bounty on you with only one guild. Their desperation trying to get their last chance of getting their golden pelikki back? 

You were grabbing dinner from the cantina for both you and Peli, as per usual, same old routine, when the bounty hunters ambushed you. “Your riduur put up a good fight.” Fett apologised when he handed the vibroblade that you dropped back to Din, “ We found two dead bounty hunters in the alley, fatal stab wounds right in their neck.” Din smiled sadly. Pride swells in his heart. He knew you wouldn’t give in so easily. But guilt took over his heart . He should have left Grogu with you on Tatooine. Grogu would have saved you with his power. But he barely survived his redemption journey himself with unexpected enemies. A karking mythasour. If it wasn’t for Grogu and Bo-Katan’s help, he wouldn’t be here. “ I am sorry Vod, I broke my promise to you. I didn’t expect them to be so bold to intrude into my territory.” Din shook his head. “ No one expected this, what happened has happened. At least we know she is still alive.”  She better be alive, Din thought. The only hope he had was the bounty specifying you HAVE to be brought in alive. You were no use to your parents if you were dead. He only just got you back into his life, his clan of three back together again. He can’t imagine losing you again, FOREVER.

Think Din, THINK. 

Sad cooing sound brought him back to reality. Grogu looked up at his buir, ears down, as if asking where you were, where is his other buir, while tapping on his darksaber. He’s got an idea. Not the one he really wants to do. But he has no choice but to save his riduur, his heart. 

“I thought it might be time for you to wake up.” Your nanny fussed as she helped you out of bed. “ I am sorry about the new scar on your face. I have put some bacta cream on it, hopefully it will heal up in the next few days.” 

You look around your bedroom. Nothing has changed. The decoration, the bookshelf, wardrobe. Seems no one has touched anything since you ran away that night. 

You knew your parents wouldn’t give up so easily. You let your guard down too much thinking under the Daimyo’s protection you will be safe within the city limit.  Should have known there are always the unexpected factor and the bold ones that will go for the big money bounty in desperation. They ambushed you in an alleyway near the cantina, you have forgotten your blaster (again) back at the workshop, but you were glad you carried Din’s gift on you all the time. You manage to fend off two of the bounty hunters, when the third snuck up behind you, jabbed you with some sort of tranquilliser agent, and you blanked out afterwards. You touch your face, feeling the fresh scar added alongside your old one. You sighed and thought to yourself sarcastically, good thing you are married. Din never cared about the scar on your face. You remember on your wedding night, after both of you coming down from the blissful high, he gently caresses the scar on your face.

“You don’t need to be ashamed of your scar. The Mandalorians are proud of each scar they bare. Proves of battle and triumph from the struggles you have been through“ 

A nudge from your nanny brought you back into reality again. She pulled out a dress from the wardrobe. “Your mother has organised the suitor to meet up with you today.”  She mentioned as she help you to put on the dress. “The diplomat’s son?” Eyes widen, you begin to think how many days you have been knocked out or your parents' efficiency in organising meet-ups is faster than speed of light. To sell you off to the highest bidder. 

“ Yes, it seems they really want you to be their daughter in law.” You rolled your eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. You have disappeared for so many cycles, one would have thought they would have given up by now and moved on to find a more appropriate socialite to marry.

Looking at yourself in the mirror. As much as you despise the woman who has given birth to you, you have to admit she does have very good taste in fashion. Subconsciously your hand goes towards your stomach. Feeling of flutter emerges from your heart as you place your hand there. “... I am glad to see you again, ad’ika” your nanny whispered as she put on some hair accessories and a veil over the side of your face, to cover up the scar. “ I am too, I miss you a lot while I was away. I hope the family has  treated you well.” You see your nanny’s sad smile in the reflection of the mirror, that says it all. They wouldn’t have forgiven her lightly for letting you run away that night. “ … I can’t stay. I can’t follow my parent’s wish to marry the diplomat’s son.I .. I am already married. To a Mandalorian.” you confessed after a brief silence. You see your nanny’s eyes widened with surprise and start laughing softly. “ OH my child… all the stories I have told you about our people really made an impact on you, didn’t it?” Finishing off the last bit of the make up, she turned you around, holding your face, lightly. “ I hope he’s been treating you well?” “ Well… he was being a big di’kut but eventually redeemed himself.” She laughed at your choice of description of Din. “ I am glad. I am glad you found your happiness.” wiping away tears in her eyes, she pulls you up from the chair, giving you one last over before heading out of the room for the meeting you've been dreading for. 

Walking down the corridor, you took note of possible escape points and routes. You know chances of you slipping away this time round is pretty slim. You know how good the security system and guards are around the estate. If anything they would have changed and upgraded the codes since you were last here. 

Cyar’ika.. I miss you.. Please come and get me soon. 

Your father sat on the chair, nursing a glass of Blossom wine, while your mother pacing up and down the large parlour room, waiting anxiously for the guest to turn up. They haven’t changed a bit, you thought. The tone of mockery after you greeted them, not even bothering to ask after your welfare, the time you spend on the run.  Fusses over how you should be behaving after the “ very important guest who can change the future of the family” shows up. Same old same old, like nothing has happened. you thought, setting a bounty on your own flesh and blood and eagerly selling her off again. All of sudden the servant slams open the door to the parlour. “My.. .My lord and ladies!!” , they panting away. “What is all the fuss about??? Is the guest here yet?” 

They shook their head. 

“There's an unexpected visitor, he.. He said he’s King of Mandalore and.. And demands his wife to be returned to him at once!” Your heart soared. DIN. Your riduur has come for you.  But… what is the deal with ….

Right behind the servants, you see A WHOLE GROUP of Mandalorians, with Fennec and Boba Fett, led on by Din, marching down the hallway straight for the parlour.  All the servants dodge out of the way in fear, giving way to the group. 

You heard your nanny’s light gasp beside you, that is when you noticed the darksaber in Din’s hand. Instead of his tattered cape, he is wearing a full length dark coloured fur cape. Regal was the first word popped into your head as you took a good look at him. You were in awe of the aura he is emitting right now, leading his people to come and demand your return. You didn’t think it could happen again but you have fallen in love with Din all over again. A joyful coo and scream caught your attention, you noticed Grogu jumped out from Fennec’s arm and proceeded to leap towards you. You rushed forward and scooped your son up into your arm. “Oh ner ad, pehea Ni mirdir gar.” (Oh my son how I missed you). You hugged him tightly.

“ What is THAT disgusting thing you are holding?!!” your mother shrieked. You turned around,facing towards your mother, glaring at her, “ His name is GROGU, he is MY son, my ad’ika. And mother, father, I would be watching your mouth in front of my husband.”

“ Your.. Your husband?!” 

Smiling sweetly, you tilted your head, “ Yes, my husband. The King of Mandalore. Didn’t you two always want me to marry into a high society? Now you have your wishes granted.” Turning around again, you held a hand out towards your nanny, pulling her along as you stride towards Din, head held up high. Stopping right in front of him, making an exaggerated curtsy as you jokes, “ Quite an entourage you have brought with you, my Mand’alor.” The large tall Mandalorian in blue armour elbowed Din when he just stood there, not replying, just staring at you through his visor.  Din was awestruck by your appearance as soon as he burst into the room. There you were, standing in front of the room, sunlight streaming in through the window.  The breeze blowing the veil that was half covering the face, and the beautiful white backless long sleeve dress, with a silver neckpiece holding up the dress. It accentuates your figure perfectly. His riduur, his Queen.

Your parents were still screaming and demanding an answer in the background, Din pulled you beside him, raising his darksaber towards them.

“ If you don’t want to cause a diplomatic situation here, I would strongly suggest you shut your mouth up.” taking a step closer, he growled, “ And if you dare to set another bounty on her again, you would have the whole covert of  Mandalorian waging war on you.”  Not even waiting for an answer, he turned around and led the whole group out of the room, leaving your parents behind.

Din’s arm never left your side until the private landing platforms for ships in your parent’s estate. There you see several space crafts, including Din’s , parked there. You gave Grogu a big kiss on his forehead before letting him down as he waddled towards Fett and Fennec. As you stood back up, Din pulled you into a tight embrace. “ I am sorry I came late…” You can hear the emotion in his voice, even through the modulator. You pull his helm down for a keldabe kiss. “ I have no doubt you will come for me Din.. I never doubt it.” you whispered back. He swore this will never happen again. Once is too much. He can’t forgive himself for letting it happen. “ Stop it Din, I know what you are thinking. It’s not your fault.” You gave him a light slap on his chest armour. “ I should have been more careful and carried my weapons around.”

As if you have reminded him of something, he took the vitroblade out from his side belt, and handed it back to you. 

“So, Mand’alor?” You smirked.

Din sighed, “ Long story…” 

“ Oi, love birds,let’s get out of here. You can give each other hugs and kisses later.” The blue Mandalorian from before barges into the moment, hurrying everyone to move along. Din turned towards him, presumably glaring at the Blue Mando, “Do you have to  Paz? I just got my riduur back.” Paz, you assume is the name of the Blue Mando, started laughing. Back to your home. Where you belong.

The ship landed softly on the grass.  The ramp landing opened slowly, Grogu and the two children ran out into the field, screaming and laughing. You waddle slowly down the ramp with a blanket under your arm. With you heavily pregnant with the third child, Din nervously hovers around you. Afraid you will fall apart any moment. “Din, I've been through this twice. You know I am not going to crumble apart just by walking!” He knows it, but him being so overprotective with his family, he just couldn’t stop fussing. 

After the bounty event from few cycles ago, Din explained to you how he became the Mand’alor. He knew where to find you, with all the details on the bounty puck, as you have mentioned to him once your family was quite known on Naboo, so it was an easy lead. But he couldn’t just march into Naboo, causing a scene, there will be a high chance both of you would never leave the planet safely, without a new bounty set on both of you by the republic or a whole army of Naboo soldiers chasing both of you down.  Din had no choice but to claim his place as Mand’alor with his ownership of Darksaber, and also to ask Paz for help. “You will owe me a big time, Din Djarin.” Paz warned. “ And you know I still want to challenge you for the right to the darksaber…” Din mentioned Paz’s riduur gave Paz an earful immediately after, growling at him for putting his greed for the saber before your safety. The Armorer reluctantly agrees to let few of the members of the covert to tag along, after Din promises to bring them back in one piece. Just to scare your parents. He assured the Armorer. Several younger members of the covert eagerly volunteered, wanting to travel off planet to see the outside world. The rest was history. You returned to him with no further complications, and Paz still gives Din grief about challenging him to the saber but one look from his riduur, he shuts his mouth up.  You spread the blanket out onto the grass, and with great effort, lower onto it. Took awhile for you to get comfortable, you are so far along, you can pop any day. “Cyar’ika.” You heard Din whispering behind you as he pulled you into his embrace. You leaned back into his chest with a sigh as you closed your eyes. He nestles his head, as you notice, without the helmet, into your neck. 

“I cannot wait to meet our ik’aad.” De’javu hits you. This is like the dream, the one you had a few cycles ago. But this time, it’s real. Your family. Your riduur. 

The Force really has been guiding and pushing everything along, hasn’t it? 

This is your clan, Clan Mudhorn, clan of five. Soon to be six. 

Grogu loves Uncle Fett and Aunty Fennec, and Peli of course 🙂

Well that is it folks. My brain juice has run out for this series, and I think this is the fitting end the clan deserves. Thank you all for coming along on this journey, I didn’t expect people would be reading it at all hhahaha. Spread the love for our space husband and the little green pea!

Taglist: @frogtits1 @memester-png

@jake-g-lockley

@novaethecosplayer

@foxgirl95

@gloryekaterina

@varientlyvisual

@flowersgirl02

[ghostsawakenedmythoughts]

Okay so this is my first time posting something and hoping to reach @taylorswift @taylornation

If you are a swiftie, please reblog, if you are not, please reblog.

I’m going with my little sister to the n1 paris of the eras tour and I am trying my luck for the 22 hat.

I have been a French swiftie since Speak Now and I never was able to go to her concert because of my health. A few weeks ago I was still on the verge of dying but I crawled out of the situation like I always do. But this is my one chance to do something with my little sister. I raised her with Taylor. I am suppose to have a liver transplant by the end of the year but my chances of making it are not high. I have multiple conditions (Lupus, Crohn and Cholangitis Sclerosis) and I want to make this memory with my sister something more than special : something she will remember if I were to pass away.

I’m begging you to tag the Taylor team, to reblog this as much as you can.

I would do anything for this.

Thank you so much for even reading this 🙏

Signed,

A dragon fighter ❤️ (Louisiane)

[tessa-liam]

Turning the Page

Come Back to Me  Chapter 12 

Choices, The Royal Romance, AU 

Series Premise: As Riley Brooks journeys through life as a single parent in New York City, an epiphany strikes as she contemplates the future for herself and her two-year-old son. 

Turning the Page Series Masterlist My Complete Masterlist 

Main pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC Riley Brooks 

AAll characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except William Brooks (Rys) and Matteo Magro, who both belong to this series. 

Category: On-going series, contains angst/fluff/depression. Cross-over fic with Choices, Perfect Match. 

Rating: M 🔞 - Warnings – Series will contain crude language, weapons, NSFW material – not Beta’d - please excuse all errors. 

Words: 3331 

Come Back to Me, Chapter 12 

Chapter Summary: As Liam and Riley’s visit continues in Lythikos, they are joined by guests from the Capital. 

Music & Title Inspiration: Come Back to Me, David Cook 

A/N1: A/N1: In this alternate universe, after King Constantine orchestrates two individual scandals to humiliate and entrap Riley Brooks and Olivia Nevrakis in shame, Madeleine Amaranth secures her position as the Queen of Cordonia. Riley, as the King’s mistress and Olivia, in self-imposed exile. Tariq is never found.  

A/N2: Damien Nazario has been assigned as William’s personal bodyguard. (Series cross-over with ‘Perfect Match’) 

‘...and when you see what you need to see 

When you find you 

Come back to me 

...and I hope you find everything that you need 

I’ll be right here waiting to see 

You find you 

Come back to me...’ 

Lythikos, Cordonia 

Liam and Olivia sat together in the cozy sitting room of Nevrakis Chateau, their hands wrapped around steaming cups of dark roast Cordonian coffee. Through the large bow windows, they could see gentle flakes of snow falling from the sky, blanketing the landscape in a soft, pristine white. 

The room was adorned with rich, dark wood furnishings, plush sofas and armchairs arranged around a crackling fireplace that emitted a warm glow. Paintings depicting scenic landscapes, adding to the ambiance of comfort and luxury tastefully decorated the walls.

Mischa and Zeus, Olivia’s malamutes, were vigilantly sitting at their mistresses’ feet as she and Liam conversed in hushed tones, their voices blending harmoniously with the peaceful surroundings. Occasionally, the king and duchess would pause to gaze out at the snowfall, admiring the beauty of nature's quiet spectacle as they awaited the arrival of their guests in the early morning.

"I appreciate you taking the time to spend with Riley." Liam smiled warmly; his cup of coffee half raised. 

"Of course, Li ... after every obstacle she has had to overcome since arriving in Cordonia for your social season, she deserves validation of her worth.” 

"She is struggling, trying to find her place here again.” Liam shook his head, the guilt once again overwhelming him. 

"She'll find it.” Olivia observed her friend closely. Olivia sighed and put her cup down. 

"Liam, I'm going to tell you something.” 

"Okay.” Liam lifted his gaze from his hands in response with hesitation. 

"I've never been good at saying these kinds of things, so I'll make this quick.” 

"Go on, Liv.” 

"You are my best friend, and I care about you. And I know that Riley is the woman for you. I've known that for some time now.” Olivia exhaled deeply. “Even though ...” Olivia twisted her fingers in her lap. “Even though, I wish it were me that you chose.” 

Liam listened attentively to Olivia's words, his expression a mix of understanding and empathy. He reached out and gently placed his hand over hers, offering a reassuring squeeze. 

"I value our friendship more than words can express, Olivia," Liam spoke with sincerity. "You've been by my side through thick and thin, and I cherish every moment we've shared." 

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "As for Riley, she's an extraordinary woman, and I feel incredibly fortunate to have her back in my life. Our connection is deep and meaningful, and I believe she's the one I want to build a future with." 

Liam's gaze softened as he spoke. "I understand your feelings, Olivia. You have always been a constant source of support and understanding for me, and I value that more than you know. I hope that you will always remember how much you mean to me, regardless of who I'm with romantically." 

Olivia nodded, a small smile touching her lips. "I do know, Liam. And I'm genuinely happy for you and Riley. You both deserve all the happiness in the world." 

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of barking. The guests had arrived, and Liam and Olivia exchanged a knowing look, their unspoken bond of friendship and mutual respect stronger than ever after their confessions.

"Thank you again, Olivia.” Liam said as he stood to greet the guests. 

"And if anyone tries to get between the two of you, I'll be right there by your side.” Olivia smirked. 

"That's good to know, Liv.” Liam chuckled. 

“By the way, have you heard from your ex-wife?” 

Liam's expression changed, the lines around his eyes deepened, and his jaw tightened. 

"Not a word.” 

"You know I can personally locate her, right?” 

"I have no doubt, but it's not necessary. I have assigned Damien to personally lead an intel team to track her.” 

"Okay, but ....” 

"She's not going to come between Riley and me.” 

"Good. Because if she does, I will personally handle her.” 

"You know, I have a feeling you're enjoying this more than you should." 

"Perhaps.” 

Liam chuckled as he turned to watch Riley with Willam walk hand in hand down the grand staircase. 

"Good morning, love." Liam smiled as he bent down to kiss her cheek and reached down to scoop William in his arms.

"There she is...there is my little blossom!" Maxwell cried, running towards Riley engulfing her in a bear hug, lifting her off the ground. Bertrand, Savannah and Bartie followed greeting Liam and Olivia.

"It's good to see you too, Max. You look well." Riley laughed as he spun her around in the air. 

"I'm not letting go until you promise to never leave me again." 

"Alright, alright, put me down!" Riley giggled, feeling the warmth and affection of her Cordonian best friend. “What are you guys doing here?” 

“We came to say hello, silly.” Maxwell winked, as Bertrand walked up to Riley to place a kiss on her cheek. 

William tugged on Liam’s pants, "Who's that?" William gestured towards the little boy holding his mother’s hand. 

"That's Bartie, buddy. He is Maxwell’s little nephew." 

"Hi." William beamed as he waved to Bartie. Damien stepped forward in anticipation to follow the crown prince. 

“Hi.” Bartie returned the greeting with a smile. 

“Lady Riley, you look well.” Bertrand stood beside Savannah and Bartie. 

“It's so good to see you both!” Riley moved up to hug Savannah and accept a kiss on the cheek from Bertrand. 

"Bertrand, it's so good to see you." 

"Likewise, Lady Riley. You are a welcome sight." 

"Aww, thanks, Bertrand." 

"And this must be William.” 

Bertrand bowed to the crown prince. 

"Yes. William, this is your uncle Bertrand.” 

"Hello, William.” 

"Hewwo." William shyly greeted him, hiding behind Riley's leg. 

"Oh, my. This is awkward. I'm not very good with children." Bertrand said nervously. 

"It's okay, Bertrand. Just be yourself.” Savannah gently pushed him forward 

"Very well. I, ....um, brought you a gift." 

Bertrand held out a small box. 

"Aww, thank you, Bertrand. That is not necessary."  Riley answered.

"Of course, it is. It is only proper etiquette. William is the crown prince of Cordonia." Riley grinned, shaking her head. “I stand corrected.” 

*** 

Under the gently falling snowflakes outside Nevrakis Chateau, William and Bartie ran through the snow-covered gardens, their laughter echoing in the crisp air. Maxwell’s cheeks were rosy from the cold, and his eyes sparkled with childlike delight as he tried to catch snowflakes on his tongue, trying to impress his nephew. 

Liam, scooping up snow to build a snowman with William, laughed heartily as he watched his son splayed on the ground creating a snow angel. His normally composed demeanor gave way to playful enthusiasm as he encouraged William's creative ideas for their snowy adventures. 

Riley, with Savannah stood by with a smile, capturing the joyful moments with her phone. Her eyes glowed with happiness as she watched Liam and William further bond over the simple pleasure of playing in the snow. 

Their guests, a mix of friends and family, joined in the snow-filled festivities. Laughter and good-natured banter filled the air as everyone engaged in snowball fights, built snow forts, and created snow angels together. 

As the day progressed, everyone gathered around a crackling fire inside the chateau, sipping hot cocoa and sharing stories. The warmth of the fire contrasted with the cold beauty of the snowscape outside, creating a cozy and inviting atmosphere. 

***

....later in the evening...

Surrounded by snow-peaked mountains, ensconced in romantic candlelight, Liam grasped Riley’s hand and led her to submerge down into the thermal waters of the outdoor hot tub of the Royal suite. 

Riley sank down to let the warm water wash over her. "This is perfect, Liam.” 

"It is.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments, enjoying the peace and tranquility of the moment. 

"What's going on in that sweet, beautiful mind of yours, Riley?" 

"I was just thinking about how much time we've lost." Liam could see the hurt in her eyes mixed with unshed tears starting to form before she looked down, unable to keep eye contact with him.  Liam reached over to gently lift her chin, as she became emotional.

"We'll make up for lost time." 

"How, Liam?" 

"By spending every moment together, cherishing each other, and never letting go." 

"That does sound nice." 

"It does." 

Liam reached forward and brushed a strand of hair away from Riley's face. 

"I promise you, love. I will do everything in my power to make you happy." 

"I know, Liam.” 

"So, are you ready to talk about the future now?" 

"I am." Riley breathed in.

"Good." 

Liam paused, gathering his thoughts. 

"I want us to be a family, Riley. A real family. 

"Me too, Liam. But, how do we do it?" 

"We start by taking things one day at a time. We spend time together and get to know each other again. We take things slowly and enjoy the journey."

Liam looked at Riley with adoration, his eyes filled with love. 

“Je veux t’emmener a Paris.” Riley quickly turned her head to look at Liam. 

["I want to take you to Paris”] 

“Il y a tellement de belles choses que je veux partager avec vous la-bas.”

["There are so many beautiful things I want to share with you there."] 

“Okay, okay ... I caught the words, ‘Paris’ and ‘beautiful’.” Riley giggled and then waved her hand in the air. “Everything else went way over my head.” 

Liam smiled wide and shook his head. “I want to take you to Paris and share the beauty with you.” 

“The Eiffel tower was breathtaking.” 

“There is so much more to Paris than the Eiffel tower.” Liam lifted Riley’s hand to his lips and turned her wrist over to gently kiss. 

“Je dois montrer a l’amour de ma vie a quel point elle compte pour moi. Te revoir dans ma vie n’a pas de prix.”  

[“I need to show the love of my life how much she means to me. To have you back in my life is priceless.” ]

Liam tugged Riley’s arm and pulled her onto his lap. 

Cupping her cheek, he met her lips in a slow, sultry kiss, his tongue coaching her to allow him to take her breath away as his tilted her head to deepen the kiss. 

Riley more than willingly let Liam take the lead. She missed the thrill she felt when he would take control and melted into his embrace.

Liam’s hands moved down to her waist pressing her body down against his, as Riley wrapped her arms around his neck she felt his impressive length as she could not resist grinding her hips down. 

"Let's take this inside," he whispered huskily. 

"Mmmhmm." Riley purred. 

Liam rose up from the tub and lifted Riley up as she wrapped her legs around him. Dripping water and leaving a trail of wet footprints on the floor, Liam carried carried her inside to the bedroom.

With one arm supporting her, and the other opening the doors, they made their way inside. 

"I've missed this," he whispered, kissing her deeply. 

"So have I," she replied, her eyes half-closed, reveling in the feeling of his body pressed against hers. 

They moved further into the room, stopping at the bed. Liam lowered Riley down onto the mattress, his body following hers. 

Riley ran her fingers through his wet hair, pulling him in for another heated kiss. 

"I need you, Riley," he whispered, his voice low and husky. 

"I'm yours, Liam," she whispered back, her body responding to his touch. 

Liam kissed down her neck, his hands roaming over her curves, exploring every inch. 

"Liam," Riley moaned, her body aching for more. 

“William ...” 

“William is comfortably sleeping in the next room.” 

Liam paused,  as he kissed his way down her body, his hands caressing her breasts, his lips teasing her nipples. 

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. 

"I'm yours," Riley replied, her voice full of desire. 

Liam kissed his way down her stomach, his hands caressing her hips. He parted her legs, his lips trailing over her inner thighs. 

Riley could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her body aching for his touch. 

"Please, Liam," she whispered, her voice a plea. 

The world seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in each other's embrace. It was if time itself had paused, allowing them this moment of reunification after so long apart. Their hearts beat in unison, a rythym of longing and desire that had been suppressed for too long.

They collapsed on the bed, their bodies entwined, their breathing heavy. 

Riley’s fingers traced the lines of Liam's face, memorizing every detail as if afraid this moment might slip away.

Liam, with a gentleness that belied his intensity, cradled her face in his hands, his eyes searching hers as if trying to convey a lifetime of unspoken words.

"I've missed you," Riley whispered, her voice barely audible above the rush of emotions between them.

Liam nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. "I've missed you too, more than words can say."

"Stay with me," he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. 

"Always," Riley replied, her heart full of love. 

Riley snuggled closer to Liam, their bodies fitting perfectly together. 

"I love you," she whispered, her heart finally feeling complete. 

"I love you too," Liam whispered back, his love for her shining through his eyes. 

"This is perfect," she sighed, her body completely content. 

"You're perfect," he murmured, his arms holding her close as he kissed her forehead. 

***

The next day at Nevrakis Chateau in Lythikos dawned with a gentle warmth that matched the newfound closeness that returned between Riley and Liam. As they woke up entangled in each other's arms, the sunlight filtering through the windows painted their room in a soft golden hue. 

Riley stirred first, her fingers tracing patterns on Liam's chest as she watched him sleep peacefully. She couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of contentment she had not experienced in a long time. With a gentle kiss on his cheek, she whispered, "Good morning, my love." 

Liam blinked his eyes open, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he saw Riley's loving gaze. "Good morning, beautiful," he murmured, pulling her closer for a lingering kiss. 

"Riley," Liam began, his voice filled with affection, "I have a special arrangement for William today. I thought it would be wonderful for him to spend the entire day with Bartie, Maxwell, Savannah, and Bertrand." 

Riley's eyes lit up with delight at the thought of William having a day filled with fun and adventure with his friends. "That sounds fantastic, Liam! I'm sure they'll have a great time together." 

Liam nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "I thought it would also give us a chance to have some uninterrupted time together, just the two of us. We can explore more of Lythikos, enjoy a quiet lunch, and simply cherish each other's company." 

Riley leaned in, her eyes sparkling with affection. "I love that idea, Liam. Spending time with you like this is truly special." 

They shared a tender moment, savoring the anticipation of a day filled with shared experiences and cherished moments. Liam's thoughtful gesture to arrange William's day with their friends allowed them the opportunity to reconnect and deepen their bond in the enchanting surroundings of Nevrakis Chateau and Lythikos. 

After a leisurely morning together, they decided to explore more of Lythikos. Liam had planned a surprise outing for Riley, eager to show her some of his favorite spots in the picturesque region. 

They ventured out hand in hand, enjoying the crisp morning air and the breathtaking views of the mountains surrounding them. Liam took Riley to a secluded spot overlooking a serene lake.

"I used to come here often to clear my mind," Liam shared, his eyes reflecting the tranquility of the place. "It's peaceful, away from the chaos of the palace." 

"It's beautiful," Riley whispered, leaning into him as they watched the gentle breeze upon the water's surface. 

As they talked and shared stories from their past, Riley felt a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in a long time. Being with Liam in such a serene setting, away from the pressures of their responsibilities, allowed them to connect on a deeper level. 

After spending a blissful day together, they returned to the chateau in the evening, where a romantic dinner awaited them. Liam had arranged for a Michelin star chef to prepare a gourmet meal, complete with candlelight and soft music playing in the background. 

Over dinner, they talked about their hopes and dreams for the future. Liam expressed his desire to create lasting memories with Riley, to travel the world together and experience new adventures. 

"I want us to live fully, without any regrets," Liam said, his eyes locked on Riley's. "I want you by my side in every journey, every moment." 

Riley's heart swelled with love, feeling overwhelmed by the depth of Liam's feelings for her. "I want that too, Liam," she replied, reaching across the table to take his hand. "I want us to embrace life together, to cherish every moment." 

As the evening progressed, their conversation turned lighter, filled with laughter and playful banter. They danced together in the moonlit courtyard, lost in each other's arms, their worries and doubts melting away in the magic of the moment. 

Eventually, exhaustion caught up with them, and they retired to their room, cuddled up in each other's embrace. With a whispered "I love you" and a tender kiss, they drifted off to sleep, ready to face whatever the future held for them, united in their love and commitment to each other. 

Thanks for reading; please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from this series.

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