#i'm not entirely sure i'm using it in the same way he was but

[sunderwight]

Shen Qingqiu gets hit by a rare wife plot.

And it actually is a rare one because Airplane didn't even write this one down! He toyed with the idea before ultimately dismissing it as being too controversial for the tastes of his readers, and adapting only a few of the same elements for a subsequent chapter of PIDW.

But apparently the System can pull inspiration even from the author's thoughts, especially when there's nothing to contradict the concept and even a few threads of it still to be found in the original, and somehow Shen Qingqiu runs afoul of this previously-unwritten plot bunny.

The core concept was a cuck scenario, of all things. One of the Luo Binghe's wives gets afflicted by a poison that can only be cured by dual cultivation, but specifically can't be cured by by dual cultivation with anyone who has mastery over demonic qi. Something something conflicting energies, something bullshit something. Peerless Cucumber would have ripped the chapter to shreds if it had actually made it to publication, not just for the insult of implying that Luo Binghe should let one of his wives sleep with someone else, but also because why would Luo Binghe -- able to use both kinds of cultivation -- somehow not be able to keep his demonic energies from influencing the situation just in this one case?

Well it turns out that in his specific case it's because sex gets him too worked up to keep things strictly separate, and the degree of control required to treat the affliction whilst dual cultivating is extensive enough that even a little slip-up would be fatal.

Of course, in the actual chapter of PIDW, this same plot device was altered and used to create a harem orgy where Luo Binghe oversaw several of his wives "treating" one another's "afflictions", but Shen Qingqiu just had to go and get a fatal of dose of the more severe version (he didn't realize the risk, because again, this version didn't even make it into the novel).

Anyway, of course this ends up with Shen Qingqiu trying to figure out another way to cheat death, while Luo Binghe goes through the five stages of grief before accepting that he's just going to have to let someone else fuck his husband. This leads to an argument because of course Shen Qingqiu's not going to cheat on Luo Binghe, and he's especially not going to force one of his martial siblings to sleep with him, come on now, and Luo Binghe trying not to cry tears of blood while bringing himself to explain that a fair few of Shen Qingqiu's sect siblings would be happy volunteers for this task.

Shen Qingqiu's just like, well of course you think that, for some bizarre reason you think everyone wants to sleep with me. Bias is what it is. Really it's flattering Binghe but obviously every other person we know is straight, that's just statistics, and everyone in the entire cultivation world knows that Qi Qingqi would sooner chew glass than have sex with a man!

Luo Binghe, weeping now: Shizun please. This is serious. I need you speak words that make sense in the order you're saying them.

They argue, they reach an impasse, the clock is ticking. So Luo Binghe reluctantly turns to the most reliable source of information (outside of himself) on Manipulating Shen Qingqiu to Do Things That Are in His Own Best Interests -- Shang Qinghua.

At first Shang Qinghua is like, well I'm flattered Junshang but I don't think I could shoulder the baggage of fucking Cucumber-bro for you. But then Luo Binghe is like no I need someone who is way hotter and more capable than you, if Shizun is going to fuck someone else at my behest they're going to be TOP TIER so that when I fuck him better afterwards he's really impressed with me. Liu Qingge, obviously.

Not Yue Qingyuan, Shang Qinghua asks? (He'd take the insult a little more personally but honestly he's just relieved that he's not being asked to navigate this social minefield.)

No, Luo Binghe says. He's not 100% sure he could beat Yue Qingyuan in a fight even to this day, which in his mind also translates to not being 100% sure he could do sex better than him either, so Yue Qingyuan is an emergency last resort. He's way more likely to cry on Shizun too and Shen Qingqiu is into that shit, it's too risky.

Alright, says Shang Qinghua, and he thinks about it, and then he comes up with the beautifully simple solution:

Luo Binghe has to fuck Liu Qingge first.

Because of course the crux of the issue is that even with permission, Shen Qingqiu doesn't want to cheat on Luo Binghe. But in the twisted annals of his mind, Luo Binghe himself is still entitled to a harem, even if Luo Binghe is also happily monogamous in this life. So if he shacks up with Liu Qingge first then Liu Qingge essentially joins Luo Binghe's harem, at which point if Shen Qingqiu sleeps with him it's not an affair, it's the gay version of those fanservice-y 3P scenes that the wives in PIDW did. Shang Qinghua translates the concept as best as he can to Luo Binghe, who -- though slightly dubious -- must accept that so far Shang Qinghua's wisdom hasn't steered him wrong with regards to his shizun's eccentricities.

Luo Binghe's mission: seduce Liu Qingge, or at least convince him to have sex, or possibly to lie and (convincingly!) tell Shen Qingqiu that they had sex. That last one is the longest shot so he's probably going to have to just fuck him (Luo Binghe still underestimates how willing his husband is to believe that just about anyone would have sex with him).

Shang Qinghua's mission: convince Shen Qingqiu that he owes his husband steamy threeway gay sex or something so that this plan he pulled out of his ass doesn't backfire and get him killed.

[starlightkyeom]

hit replay | x.mh

(where your ex moves into the empty unit in your apartment building and maybe the relationship isn't over after all)

pairing: xu minghao x afab!reader genre: exes to lovers, neighbors to lovers | fluff, romance, smut rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: 12.7k (this was less than 4k yesterday idk) warnings: mentions of food & drinks, talk of the previous relationship, massages (f. receiving), body worship, light nipple play, fingering (f. receiving), briefest hand job, protected sex, they're just very soft for each other, that's it, reader doesn't use gendered language but has female anatomy

a/n: thank you to the amazing @camandemstudios for hosting The Lonely Hearts Collab ❤️ make sure you check out all the amazing fics! this ended up much softer (and longer) than i thought it would, but i'm not mad at that. we all need soft hao for love day. i hope you enjoy it!

taglist: @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tinkerbell460, @aidanjoon, @cookiearmy, @kaepjjangiya, @lostmembrane (join my svt taglist here)

Sometimes you think your life should come with one of those signs like they have in workplaces. You know, the ones that say how many days since the last accident? The ones that people always seem to use as memes? You think that might be appropriate in your case, too. Except, instead of days since the last accident, it would count days since you’d last seen your ex. The man who shattered your heart. The one you can’t seem to get over no matter how hard you try. 

Days since I last saw Minghao: 396

You’re not sure why your brain counts the number. Not sure why you can’t just put it out of your mind. Move on, for real this time. Of course, that’s not the same number as the days since he broke your heart. No. Unfortunately, you’ve run into him a couple of times since then, despite him moving away. A consequence of you still having a number of friends in common. And you can’t even blame them for keeping in touch with him. He didn’t really do anything wrong. Not to them and not even really to you. The two of you just…grew apart. 

Thinking back on it, even years later, you still can’t really pinpoint where it all went wrong. You remember falling for him, entirely too hard. Back when you didn’t think he took much notice of you. Always too absorbed in his latest project. You were friends, kind of. More on the periphery of each other's circles. Until you went to an art show with some mutual friends. Until you saw yourself in several of his works. None of your friends seemed all that surprised. They just let you have your little moment. 

It all happened kind of fast from there. You learned that Minghao wasn’t always one for showing his feelings in words, but he showed them in a million other ways, as long as you knew where to look. He showed them in the little things he did to make your life easier. In the way he incorporated you into his art, sometimes without it even being obvious. In the way he quietly made space for you in his life. 

Things were great, until they weren’t. And it still feels sudden all these years later. Even if it maybe, possibly, wasn’t sudden at all. 

You remember finding a new job. The kind of job you never thought you would land. The kind that Minghao instantly encouraged you to follow. Except it meant much more normal hours where Minghao kept weird hours. Sometimes he wouldn’t come to bed until the sun rose and other times he had been at work for hours when you woke up. Something about inspiration and lighting and just letting it all come together. Neither of you notice when it starts getting harder to make time for each other. At least, you didn’t notice. Only focusing on making the most of the time you do have. 

So, when Minghao tells you that he thinks you need to talk, you’re completely caught off guard. Haven’t seen all the signs that may have been there. He tells you he’s got the opportunity of a lifetime to further his career and it means he’s going to be leaving your city. Leaving the country entirely. Tells you that it’s been great and he still loves you, but he’s got to do this. Tells you that he thinks it’ll be right for both of you because you’ve been growing apart, haven’t you? You’ve both been prioritizing other things like work and friends over each other. He’s going to take this chance and he hopes you’ll understand. 

Maybe you do actually remember it falling apart after all. 

But, it’s time to cast aside your walk down memory lane. Time to leave everything behind in the old year and get ready to ring in a new one. A feat you tried last year as well and seemingly didn’t succeed at. This is the year, though. New year, new me and all that. You take one last look at your outfit before rushing out the door. Your slightly eccentric (and totally loaded) neighbors are having a party up in the penthouse of your apartment building. And even though you normally hate anyone with that kind of money, they’re actually cool and incredibly kind. They go out of their way to understand their privilege and involve themselves directly in charity. You can’t even hate that they’re barely older than you and have it all. Plus, who are you to turn down a party like this for the new year. 

The party is in full swing when you get there. Soyoon always does an excellent job of setting up a party, too. She makes sure there’s an area for people to dance and for people who want things a little quieter. And she always stocks up on top shelf drinks with so many snacks you could make an entire meal out of it. It only takes her a second before she’s waving you over. You weave through the people to get to her, so focused on your friend that you don’t notice anything else. Though you should. 

“Hey! You finally made it!” she says and pulls you into a hug. 

“Worrying I wouldn’t show?” you joke back. 

“No,” she says, smiling her megawatt smile. She indicates to someone. “I wanted you to meet your new neighbor I mentioned, the artist…”

Something drops in your stomach when you register that she says artist and you slowly turn to see the person she’s indicating. Hoping against all hope that you don’t recognize them. Instead, you see the lean figure of someone you know well. Dressed all in black and still looking like one of the most fashionable in the room. The black also works well to offset his blond mullet. It’s not a color you’ve seen on him before, but you’d know him anywhere. 

Days since I last saw Minghao: 396 0

Fuck. 

“Minghao,” you say softly, immediately kicking yourself for the way it comes out. 

“Yeah, oh. I thought you hadn’t met yet,” Soyoon says with a slight frown of confusion. 

Minghao is quick to answer, casual as can be. “I hadn’t run into her yet but we knew each other once, years ago.”

“Oh, how fun! Shall I leave you two to catch up?” she asks. 

You say no just as Minghao says yes. Soyoon looks confused, but ends up leaving the two of you alone anyway. It’s the last thing you want and there’s nowhere to go. At this rate, you’re going to get a much different start to your year. 

When you wake up well into the first morning of the New Year, your brain feels a little fuzzy. Not hungover though, so you can thank past you for that. You cannot thank past you for anything else. Not when the night before comes rushing back to you and you remember. Remember kissing Minghao, not just at midnight. Remember admitting that you still think about him. Remember wondering if he was single. Don’t remember asking him why he’s back now and without a word to you. Not that he owes it to you. It’s been years, after all. You just can’t believe that the mysterious new resident two doors down from you is none other than the ex you can’t seem to forget. 

Thankfully New Year’s Day is really about recovering from the night before and getting ready to face the rest of the year. It also gives you time to figure out what you’re going to do about Minghao. You’re sure there’s something in there about second chances. About how people change as they grow. It’s not for you, though. The more time you spend thinking about the night before, the more you realize that things are better left alone. This isn’t some great sign to revisit a painful past. It’s a way of telling you that it’s okay to finally figure out a way to move forward in your life. 

You’re just going to ignore that the person you’re moving on from lives two doors down from you. Shouldn’t be a problem at all. 

As you’re considering what you want to do for food, the doorbell rings. You’re not expecting someone and your heart plunges a little. What if it’s Minghao stopping by to talk about the night before? You can’t exactly remember all of your conversation, so you’re not sure if there’s something else that you need to talk about. You’re not prepared for any of it. When you open the door, it’s not him. It’s just someone delivering from one of your favorite take-out places. 

“I didn’t order anything,” you say, confusion clear on your face. 

The delivery guy only shrugs and shows you his phone. It’s your name and address. “I just deliver the orders I get. The tip was nice, too.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” you say and accept the bag of food. 

You decide to eat it on your couch so that you can settle in and binge something truly awful on TV. As you ponder who could have sent it, you think about Soyoon and how she loves to do this kind of thing. Yes, that seems likely. You’ll have to send her your own little thank you and thank her in person the next time you see her. Sending a text wouldn’t do it because she always says that doesn’t feel as personal. Eccentric, but endlessly kind. She’s definitely the kind of person that would want to make sure her guests are taken care of after such a great party. All feels much more calm as you settle in and your mind stays firmly off Minghao. 

The whole idea of keeping your mind off Minghao works for a while. You see him around the building and he’s always perfectly polite, but never forces a conversation. Says hi in passing and smiles. That’s just kind of how he is. It’s not that he doesn’t have plenty to say, he just doesn’t chase after anyone for a chat. Doesn’t see the point in forcing something when both people aren’t interested. Honestly, it’s a bit disarming because as well as you knew him once, it’s not what you’re expecting. There are times when you even consider if you should strike up a conversation with him. At the very least, there are things left unsaid from New Year’s. Things you know that you should get out of the way. Especially when Soyoon asks for details on what’s going on and you’re not really sure how much to share. 

But, then life catches up with you, as it seems prone to do. Things pick up at work and you find that you’re back into your routine without a second thought. That’s always the thing about the new year. It starts and it’s kind of slim on holidays while you’re getting into it. It also seems unspoken that people just don’t take time off then. Not when so many take time off around the holidays. (Something you also did, taking off the two days after New Year’s so you wouldn’t have to go back for a short week. Best decision you’ve made in a long time.)

You blink and January fades into February. Your brain is somewhere else entirely when you rush into your favorite coffee shop by your office, running a little bit late because you’re heading in on the weekend. The shop is decorated for Valentine’s Day already, like it seems to be every year once the calendar hits February. Something in you fights rolling your eyes. It’s not that you hate the holiday, it’s just that you’re a little bitter for another one spent without a partner. As much as you may say it doesn’t matter, it feels like it would be nice to have someone. Even if all you did was stay in to have a nice meal or play a game or watch something on TV. Just a moment for the two of you in the midst of all the chaos. When the barista asks for your order, you shake away the thoughts and give it, pulling your phone out to tap and pay.

“Oh, it’s covered,” she says and your brow furrows. 

“What?” you ask.

“Someone already covered your order today,” she repeats.

“But how did…” you start to ask under your breath and trail off. 

“Did you need anything else?” she asks brightly. 

“No, I guess not,” you say and put away your phone.

As you head down to wait for your order, your brain whirs into action. Who is out here just somehow paying for your order? You cast your eyes around the shop and nobody looks familiar. Well, a few people do in that way that regulars stick out when you’re also a regular. Nobody seems to be paying attention to you, though, or giving you any indication that they paid for your order. It shows up on the counter before you can think any further about it. 

The rest of the week goes in a similar fashion. Your coffee order is taken care of any time you stop in and the barista only smiles when you ask her who’s doing it. The only answer she gives is that you’ll realize it if you think about it. Not entirely helpful. At work, you get a surprise lunch just as you’re on the verge of a breakdown over a project. Mingyu, one of your closest friends even outside of work, offers lunch as a break and you take it without question. After all, the two of you were friends before becoming coworkers so it’s not unexpected that he would realize you’re feeling burnt out. Another of your friends asks you to go with him to a show you’ve been wanting to see and won’t even let you pay him back for the ticket. There are other little things, too. Things that you wouldn’t normally notice, but it’s like everything is going your way. It makes you a little wary. Mostly, though, it just makes you grateful. It feels like such a good way to start the year.

It isn’t until the weekend that you finally put it all together. Saturday morning comes and you let yourself sleep in after being out a little later the night before to go to the show. There’s an unexpected knock at the door that gives you a little deja vu back to New Year’s Day. You yawn and stretch as you get out of bed and head to the door. This time, there’s no delivery person waiting for you. There’s just a basket, clearly put together very thoughtfully. You bring it inside and start to look through what’s in there. A calming tea. A bath bomb. Some chocolates. A candle. A book that you've never heard of and somehow know you’re going to love. It’s the perfect kit to have the best and most relaxing day. 

And that’s when it hits you. The coffee, the lunch, the show, all the little surprises. It’s all coming from one person. The one person who likes to let his actions speak louder than his words. The one person who clearly hasn’t just been letting you be since the party. This is Minghao all over. You’re a little surprised at how easily the realization clicks into place. Also a little surprised that it didn’t click sooner. Maybe you had forgotten more about him than you thought. Maybe he wasn’t the only person taking up residence in your mind anymore. 

There’s a lot to think about and you figure that you’ll use the time taking a bath to do just that. Well, you shower first to make sure you’re clean and because you didn’t do it after getting home the night before. But then, you’re ready to relax in the bath and just let your mind wander. Hope you’ll end up coming to a decision about what you want to do. There’s so much history. So many nights spent trying to figure out how things might have gone differently. Until it clicks. Minghao was right back then. You both needed that space. Needed the separation to go off and figure yourselves out. Needed to learn who you were as an adult before you could learn to make space for another person. When he left, it cleared a path for you to take chances you never would have otherwise. Maybe it did the same for him. 

That’s how you find yourself outside his door after the bath, the tea in hand because you know that it’s a brand he loves. Or, at least, he did once upon a time. He opens the door too quickly for you to second guess if this is a good idea. Or to wonder if he’s even home. His eyes seem to sparkle at the sight of you and at the tea in your hands.

“You got my care package,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. 

“And figured out who was behind all those wonderful things this past week,” you admit, causing his smile to slip into a more genuine one.

“About time,” he says under his breath.

“Can I come in for a cup of tea?” you ask and he regards you for a moment. That’s always been the hardest part about being around Minghao. He has a way of looking at you and peeling back all the layers. It’s like being naked in front of him. And you’re not as comfortable in front of him as you were once upon a time. It makes you shift on your feet and cast your eyes down.

He steps aside and you let out a sigh of relief at the movement. “Come on in.” 

Stepping inside his apartment almost feels like stepping back in time. Everything about the decoration feels familiar. There are a few things that you do recognize but mostly it’s just because it’s so inescapably him. Everything has a place and it looks like it could be featured in a magazine. But, it’s better than that. Better because it feels lived in, like a home even though it is straight from some aesthetic moodboard. You turn back to him when you recognize a figure that you gave him years ago. It makes your heart constrict that he kept it all this time.

“Did you want to share that tea with me?” he asks, noting the box in your hands.

“Oh,” you say, a little startled back into the present. You look down at your hands and then back to him. “Yeah. Well, if you still like it, that is.” 

“I do, yes,” he says and accepts the box from your hands. “You can go sit down and I’ll bring the tea out in a minute.” 

It’s so impossibly normal and also one of the most abnormal things in the world. The contradictions are making your head hurt, so you just do as Minghao suggests. Sit down on the couch in the living room and sigh. This is the most comfortable couch in the world. That’s another thing you remember about him. Everything fits his aesthetic and it’s never at the expense of comfort. None of that unusable furniture for him. Without even thinking about it, you pick an art magazine off the table. It’s the only thing that seems out of place and there’s a sticky note attached to it with an advanced copy for you to look over scrawled on it. That’s when the cover catches your eye, previously covered in part by the note. Minghao looks back at you, surrounded by some of his artwork. It seems like it’s a profile on him. He must be doing even better than you realized. 

“I hated posing for that,” he says softly as he appears with two cups of tea. 

You start a little in surprise at hearing his voice and drop the magazine back on the table. “I didn’t mean to…”

“There’s no need to be scared,” he says with a low chuckle as you accept the cup. “You can read it if you’d like.” 

“It seems like things are going well for you,” you comment, looking back at the magazine.

“Professionally, sure. Although I’m finding creating a little more difficult lately,” he says and you look at him. 

“Why’s that?” you ask and then shake your head.

“What?” he asks.

“We’re just…talking like no time has passed,” you say.

“I guess I thought that after that party and sending you the food the next day like we…” he starts.

“That was from you?” you ask, clearly surprised.

“Would…what?” he asks, shifting mid thought. “Yes?”

“Aren’t you sure?” you ask with a laugh.

“No, I’m sure. I just thought…well, we talked about it that night,” he says.

“I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I don’t remember exactly what we said that night,” you say and look down.

“Ah,” he says. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Well, I figured we’d talk about everything when there weren’t people around and we could have time to ourselves. Then, I sent the food and just never heard from you,” he says. 

“You could have said something,” you tell him.

“I’m not always very good at that, the saying something part,” he says.

“You’re great at taking care of things I need, though. Everything the past week or so has been so thoughtful,” you say. 

“I know I should have talked to you. I just didn’t know how to start the conversation,” he admits. 

“It’s been a long time,” you say. 

Just as an awkward silence is about to fall over you, Minghao turns to face you. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything.” 

“Before we go down a path of talking about everything that happened back then and about how much I miss you now, do you think it’s worth it?”

You consider that for a long moment and miss the way Minghao seems to hold his breath. Miss the way he searches your face for a sign of the answer before you give it. Don’t realize how many ways your face has changed in the years since he really knew you. When you meet his eyes, you finally see that he looks unsure. All you can do at first is nod. 

“Is that a yes?” 

You take a deep breath. Ready yourself to jump in with both feet. “I think it’s at least worth having a conversation, yeah.” 

And so that’s what you do. You sit down and talk about all the things you wish you had said back when he left. All the things you could have done differently. All the ways you’ve changed since then. It feels good to say all the things that you’ve kept to yourself over the years. There’s something very open and honest about the way you talk. Somehow even more honest than back when you were in a relationship. Maybe because there’s no fear about the other person’s reaction or feelings. Or maybe it’s just because you’re much more mature now than you were back then. You’re not really sure. Not really sure it matters either. 

This is probably the most you’ve ever heard Minghao say at once. He even admits it’s because he knows that he’s going to have to do things that make him a little uncomfortable if he wants you to consider trying again. He’s also very understanding as he listens to everything. Not defensive when you point out how things could have gone differently. And you know you can’t be defensive when he points out the things you could have done, either. After all this time, you finally realize that it was very much both of you responsible for the way the relationship ended. Yes, Minghao’s the one that accepted a position that would take him far away from you. He’s the one that suggested that maybe the relationship needed to end. But, you also had your role in all of it. You also have to acknowledge that you got distant. Prioritizing other things in your life over him. No longer able to communicate as effectively as you had earlier in the relationship. Both of you had been growing at different rates and in different directions. 

Now, years later, you can realize that it’s something both of you needed. You had to separate to grow in ways you couldn’t do together. Had to be alone to learn the hard lessons, the scary things. To understand what you need and what you want and when to compromise. You’re no longer wearing the rose colored glasses of your early 20s. 

“So, what now?” he asks. 

“What do you want?” you ask and he sighs a little. “I know, I can’t make you be the only one to talk.”

“I want to know if you still have any space for me in your life and…” he says, but trails off.

“In my heart?” you guess.

“Yeah,” he admits softly.

It’s another crossroads. One of those moments you’ll look back on. You know that you need to be a little brave. “I never really got over you. Not fully.”

Minghao’s face brightens at that and he meets your eye with your favorite smile. The soft one that you always felt like belonged only to you. “Me either. I’ve lived all over the world since we broke up and I still get my best inspiration from you.”

That one sentence pushes all the air out of your lungs. Has you entirely speechless. You hold out your hand and he intertwines his fingers through yours without a word. “So we try?” 

“We try,” he agrees. 

Trying is both intimidating and the most comforting thing in the world at the same time. A weird duality just like the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Going on a date with someone that you dated for years and then broke up with years ago is like starting well into the relationship. There are all sorts of things that you already know about each other. Yet, there are also things you can’t assume. Things you may have known once may not be true anymore. Or it’s possible that you remember something that wasn’t true at all, even then. 

So, you start with the most obvious date night activity: dinner. It gives you something to do without being too distracting from a conversation. Minghao surprises you a bit, too. He’s somehow more thoughtful and more open all at once. He still doesn’t always know how to say what he wants to all the time, but he’s trying harder to get his thoughts out. You’re also trying much harder to meet him where he is rather than expecting something that just isn’t who he is. Another byproduct of how much the two of you have grown in your time apart. You can appreciate how well the two of you fit together now. Can appreciate how your individual strengths complement each other. 

After dinner, Minghao starts to suggest going back to the apartment building. You have another suggestion, though. There’s this Art After Dark event that the local art museum runs on the second Saturday of every month that you’ve wanted to check out. Life has been too busy until now. And you also can admit that some part of going felt a little difficult. What if you saw something that Minghao created? Or something that reminded you of him? Or what if there was just a piece of art that you couldn’t understand? You’ve always appreciated the beauty in creation, but some things just went over your head. 

The suggestion makes Minghao’s face light up. He’s heard of the event and somehow hasn’t been since moving back. Not that he’s been back all that long. Still, it’s nice to know that you’ll be able to experience something that’s meaningful to him for the first time. 

The drive over is quiet, mostly only filled with the sounds of the playlist Minghao picked. It’s not uncomfortable, though, far from it. You’re thinking of how easy it is being in his presence again, especially given how long you spent thinking you needed to avoid him. In the passenger seat, Minghao scrolls what looks like the website for the museum. Probably seeing what installations are there currently on display. Or what special events they have for the evening. Either way, you’re happy to let him prepare before getting there. It’ll only help you on top of it because he’ll be able to walk you through everything. (If you think about how pretty his profile looks in the low light, then that’s your business.)

Once you get there, you insist on covering the admission because Minghao paid for dinner without giving you the chance to even offer. It’s nowhere near even, but it’s the least you can do for now. They also check your IDs on the way in because there’s an open bar, apparently. You each grab a drink off of the tray going around and then head into the first room. Live music drifts softly through from somewhere you can’t see. It adds something nice. Something that makes the whole setting somehow more intimate when combined with it being less busy than during normal hours. Minghao doesn’t wait for you to ask him to lead the way, he just knows. You follow close to him, not quite brushing your arm against him. 

This has always been one of your favorite things about Minghao. Watching him at a museum or an art gallery is just special. He walks through and talks about the different artists, the influences, and the history. He can tell you about different periods of an artist’s life and why they might have created the way that they did. There is so much living in his brain that it puts the plaques with each piece of art to shame. Occasionally, you notice someone standing in the area stop and listen to the way he speaks about a piece. It’s endearing to watch him when he’s passionate. Somehow softer and less guarded. Some people might find it sexy, and you do as well. It’s just that you find him cute first. There’s nothing about him that sounds like he’s bragging or talking down about his knowledge. Minghao has always believed that art should be accessible to everyone. That it’s a gift for all people to enjoy. When he speaks about it, that comes across. It’s something familiar, something you’re glad is the same. 

Minghao always wants to know the pieces you’re most drawn to. He wants to let you walk into some of the rooms first so he can watch you experience the art for the first time. Wants to know if you’re drawn to the pieces that he expects. You are, mostly. Usually, you wouldn’t want this much attention on you, especially in a place that isn’t your normal comfort zone. But, Minghao makes you feel at ease. At least, until he starts talking about which pieces of art remind him of you and why. It makes you turn away a little to hide the way your cheeks flush. It just feels so intimate. Feels like he’s baring his soul. Feels like too much for someone who’s been a stranger to you for years. Although, can you really say he’s a stranger? Yes, things change. People grow. You and him have certainly both grown. Maybe you’ve grown into the people you both imagined you’d be back when you figured you had the rest of forever together. 

It’s not until the last room of the museum that you realize Minghao picked the path deliberately. He motions for you to go ahead of him and you assume it’s just so he can see your reactions to the art, like he has in other rooms. And it is, in a way. Just not for the same reason as any other room. Your attention immediately falls on a piece you recognize immediately. Not because you’ve seen it before. It’s because it’s you. Or, you should say that you know it’s meant to be you. It’s that same style of abstract art that you know belongs to Minghao. The same style that feels as familiar as if it was a polaroid of you. That’s not why it takes your breath away. It’s the fact that he must have painted it after you broke up because you haven’t ever seen it before. And here it is, hanging as part of a long term installment in the museum less than 20 minutes from your apartment 

“You knew this was here,” you say. 

“I had to double check,” he says softly as he follows you. Your feet bring you right to the piece without any other thought. 

Minghao uses art as an expression. Says it’s easier for him to convey the hard things that way, like so many artists seem to. Says he’s not good with words, could never be the kind of creative that writes poems or novels with long scenes expressing intense emotions. It’s so clear looking at his art that he doesn’t need to. So clear that his work is the reason people say a picture is worth a thousand words. You think you could have ten thousand words and still need more with this piece. And most of his pieces, honestly. You yearn to reach out and run your fingers along the canvas, to trace the lines that he uses. Instead, you take in each color and each stroke. It causes conversations from when you were both younger to come flooding back. You remember lying in bed and listening to him talk about his process. About when he brought something to the foreground versus leaving it in the back. About the choice to use a vibrant palette or something more muted and neutral. About how he could play with the different colors to express each emotion. In saying all of that, you remember hearing what he couldn’t say. It’s funny, in hindsight, to think about how Minghao always said he struggled with emotions. He just says what he needs to in a different way.

His feelings are crystal clear to you in this piece. The representation of you is front and center. The first thing your eye lands on when you look at it. Everything else is in the background. Like he’s saying that you’re the center of the universe in this piece. The colors tell you just as much. They’re rich with his affection. With tenderness and forgiveness. With yearning. Like a hand reaching out to pull you in. You even think he might have put a version of himself in the background, muted to throw you into sharper relief. It’s beautiful and passionate and incredibly raw. You may need to know him to see the last bit. It’s only then that you see the date on the piece. Just over a year ago, probably after you had seen him the last time before he popped up at the party in your building. 

Finally, you turn to him and find his eyes on you. Studying you, looking for answers before you give them again. And you see the nerves there. He’s grown so much, but he knows you have too. Doesn’t presume to know everything about you anymore. Your mouth curves into the most genuine smile. “It’s amazing, Hao. I don’t even know what to say.” 

“You like it?” he asks, a little less sure of himself than you’re used to. 

“I love it,” you assure him and turn back to it. “It might be one of the most expressive pieces of yours I’ve ever seen.” 

“I know I shouldn’t have been drawing inspiration from you, but I couldn’t stop myself after I saw you that time a year ago,” he says, confirming what you thought. “I was halfway through the painting before I realized it.” 

“No matter what, I will always be honored to inspire you.” 

“That’s a relief.” 

“You know, you’re much better at expressing your feelings than you think,” you tell him, looking over to see his reaction. His face is soft. 

“Only if you remember how to read it,” he says. 

“It’s all coming back to me,” you say and delight in the way he smiles. 

Minghao is a study in contrasts. He’s every bit of what you think about when thinking of an artist. Introverted, intelligent in a way not everyone can appreciate, thoughtful, sometimes a little intimidating to approach. If you don’t know him, he could seem cold or detached. When you do know him, though, he’s anything but cold. Certainly not intimidating. Although he can be guarded, he’s an open book to the people closest to him. He’s incredibly soft and caring. Willing to let all his defenses fall away for the right person. 

He takes hold of your hand, even though he’s not always one to seek out physical touch in that way. Not in public. “I want to give this another try. We’ve both grown a lot over the past years. You don’t have to make a decision now. All I want to know now is if you’ll be my Valentine.”

The way he says it doesn’t really sound like a question. It’s also infinitely more direct than you’re used to. You can’t help the teasing look. “That’s so corny.” 

The smile you get in response is worth it. Minghao only shrugs. “Sometimes, it’s worth it.”

“Yes, Hao, I would love to be your Valentine,” you say, fighting a bit of the urge to say that you’ll just be his again. 

Even though you know that rushing back into something is the last thing you need to do, you’re still excited. Feel lighter than you have in ages. It’s kind of like autopilot for the rest of the time you spend at the museum. And if it’s the best date you’ve been on in years, well that’s your business. It’s also your business if you get back to your apartment that night and think about all the things that happened that day.

Sunday dawns and the first thought in your mind is Minghao. Not exactly surprising after spending a whole day with him instead of continuing to avoid him. Yet, it’s not quite what you’re expecting, either. After years of protecting your heart, it shouldn’t be this easy to open up to him again. That thought does make you pause, just for a second. Then, you think about all the things you managed to cover just in one day together. There’s still plenty to talk about, but you can’t deny the obvious. You’re both so willing to be open and vulnerable. Willing to accept your faults to make sure things are different if you give it another shot. There’s definitely something to be said that he’s the first thing on your mind when you wake up. (And the last thing you thought about before falling asleep.)

It’s time to do things differently. Time to not overthink everything. You’re older and wiser now. Feel like you can trust your gut and the vibes now with more life experience. Instead of giving yourself time to second guess, you send a text to Minghao to ask if he wants to come over. It’s one of those catch up days. You need to grocery shop and run some errands, do some laundry, and do a little cleaning. Minghao loves quality time, something still true now. It’s nothing exciting, though, and you give him plenty of space to say no without it being an issue. All he asks is what time he should come over and if he should eat breakfast first. 

Which is exactly how he ends up at your apartment barely 20 minutes later.

Plenty changes and just as much stays the same. Minghao can cook, he never starves. It’s just not his favorite thing to do if left to his own devices. You offer to make him breakfast if he’s going to keep you company during a bunch of errands. While you cook, he keeps himself busy making tea for himself and coffee for you. Doesn’t have to ask how you like it since he covered your coffees for the past week at the shop by your work. Since Minghao likes acts of service just as much as quality time, he empties your dishwasher while you’re finishing up breakfast and tidies up around the kitchen behind you. There’s so much comfort in falling into patterns like that, even though it feels entirely different than before. 

Breakfast passes quickly and Minghao helps motivate you out the door. Points out the sooner you get things out of the way, the sooner you can come back and relax. You’re not shy in telling him that he makes an excellent point. The praise falls easily from your lips and you delight in the way it causes him to smile shyly. Some things really never change and you’ll never tire of pulling that out of him. 

Several hours later, you’re done with all your errands (in record time, no less, even though you took care of getting things for him as well). Back at your apartment, Minghao unloads your groceries for you along with the light lunch he insisted that you pick up. It should be scary to see him making himself at home in your life again. It’s not, though. It just fills you with an endless amount of warmth. You can’t help the way your heart flutters at him setting your food out on the table and calling for you to come join him before it’s back to checking things off your little list for the day. He just seems so comfortable helping you and sharing in your space. Content to let you set the pace and clearly pleased you texted to invite him over. 

After lunch, Minghao shoos you off to get your laundry started while he tidies up in the kitchen and living area. He’s not a clean freak by any stretch. Although he does like for everything to be in its place. You know he’s only doing it now to help you because he doesn’t mind. The warmth is going to be too much at this rate. You let yourself have hearts in your eyes over him for a second before disappearing into your bedroom to gather your laundry. 

Once you have your clothes in the washing machine, Minghao says he needs to get something from his apartment and returns with his sketch pad. He’s got a few ideas that he wants to plan out and hopes it’s fine to do with in your living room. You agree as long as he doesn’t mind you rotting away with your TV obsession of the moment. It’s in those quiet moments that you get the most answers. The comfort of being in a space with him, not saying much and yet knowing you could. Sometimes you feel like you have to fill a silence to avoid any awkward pauses. There’s this sense of anxiety about what the other person is thinking, even if you know it’s probably not about you. It’s not the case with him. Which tells you all you really need to know, doesn’t it? No matter how hard you’ve tried over the years to find someone else, to date and have it something more, it’s never been like this with anyone but him. 

You’re scared of what comes next. Scared of being hurt. Yet, this feels like one of those chances you just have to take.

The next week goes something like the weekend. You spend a lot of your free time with Minghao. Sharing all the things that have happened over the years. It’s easy to talk about shared friends or new ones. Not quite as easy to talk about all the work updates, though it feels just as important. The two of you stay up late having hard conversations in the quiet hours of the night. Talking about everything that’s different. Neither of you even shy away from past relationships. It doesn’t even feel that difficult. You both had lives since you broke up and those lives shaped you into these people now. Twice, he even shows up for lunch to get you out of the building for a break. The looks from your coworkers are both knowing and happy. Everything feels like it’s going toward the obvious conclusion. 

Somewhere in between all the time spent with Minghao, you also carve out time for dinner with your best friend. Need to carve out the time, you think, to get her opinion. She’s been with you since just before the relationship ended. Even though you know that you can make decisions for yourself, it feels important to get an outside perspective. The last thing you want is to rush back into something and end up in the same place as the first time. If nothing else, you know she’ll ask you the difficult questions to make you think. Make you answer if you’ve really thought out what a second chance for the two of you looks like. If you’re doing this because you want this now, in 2025, for if you’re just holding onto a past that felt comfortable. It can be easy to just stay in a bubble without considering what that looks like when the bubble breaks. When you have to go exist together in public or with friends, not just in your own little world.

She does all those things and is adamant: this isn’t like before. Tells you that you don’t need her to tell you what you already know. Instead of justifying everything that happened years ago, you acknowledge. You don’t make excuses because there aren’t any to make. Sometimes things don’t work. You and Minghao are different people now than you were years ago. Somehow, against all odds, you’ve grown into different people that have even better compatibility than you did when you were younger. As cliche as it is, he seems like your right person at the wrong time and the universe is telling you to hit the replay button now. It’s all the confirmation you need. You’re going to dive in and feel confident he’ll be there to catch you. 

By the time Valentine’s Day comes around, you’re both completely at peace and nervous for the date itself. It’s been the theme of the last week. Another set of contrasts that somehow work. You trust Minghao, more than you expect. But, you haven’t had a date for Valentine’s since just after you and him broke up. And it was a disaster. So, you’re trying not to set your hopes to an unrealistic level. 

But, he quickly proves that you don’t have anything to worry about. Before work, he shows up with flowers, coffee, and a pastry from a shop nearby. It’s really difficult not to just call out from work and spend the day with him. Admitting that makes him laugh and press a gentle kiss to your temple. It’s so sweet that you want to melt. Sadly, you have to go to work and he’s got two different meetings that he can’t miss, one with a museum curator and another with a prospective client. So, he’ll see you after work as planned. 

Work seems to drag and more than once, you consider leaving early. Probably would too if Minghao hadn’t been adamant that you couldn’t come by his place until after work. It makes you pout a little, which, in turn, makes Mingyu laugh at you when he stops by your desk. He’s just happy he doesn’t have to avoid bringing up Minghao anymore since they’ve been in touch the whole time. You’re so happy looking forward to the date that you can’t even get mad at your friend. Besides, it can’t have been an easy spot to be in all this time. 

Minghao takes your breath away when you actually show up after work. 

After quickly changing out of work clothes, you’re on his doorstep, waiting for him to answer. The second you step inside, you see why he had you wait. He’s decorated the entire space in a way he knows you’ll love. All your favorite colors and little things that are cheesy, but also adorable. There are also several paintings, both old and newer, that you know you inspired displayed around the living area. It feels like the perfect space to celebrate with him. All you can do is wrap your arms around him. He’s quick to pull you tight against him. There’s so much emotion. 

“The food is already on the way,” he says when you pull away from him. “Thank you for paying, even though you didn’t need to.” 

“You’ve been paying for everything. It’s my turn,” you say and smile, looking around his apartment. “And thank you for this. I know it’s not usually your style.”

“You like it. That’s all that matters,” he says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

“Can I say something that’s maybe too honest?” you ask.

Minghao’s gaze on you is soft. “To me? Always.”

“I do like it, but I think I would like anything because I just like you. A lot more than I realized,” you say and watch him. Every part of you wants to look away. You already feel naked with his gaze on you when you’re not confessing to your feelings. 

Minghao reaches for your hand to pull you into him again. Lets the silence settle around you for a moment. He speaks without releasing you. “That’s good because I’m very much in love with you. So I’m glad you like me so much.”

That makes you pull away, eyes wide. “You’re in love with me? You’re sure?” 

“Does that scare you?” he asks, studying your face the same way he studies his favorite artwork.

The answer is on the tip of your tongue before you even realize it. “No.” 

“You don’t have to know yet. You don’t have to love me back at all if it’s not right for you. But, I’m sure. It’s always been you for me and it’s always going to be you for me. I’m not going to waste a second chance by not telling you how I feel.” 

It’s overwhelming in so many ways. The Minghao you loved years ago couldn’t express himself this easily. It was you that had to be good at using your words and interpreting him through actions. At the time, you thought it was fine. Now, seeing him be strong for both of you, you realize that sometimes it’s nice to hear exactly what he’s thinking. It’s nice to just know without having to read his actions. It’s also his way of showing you that things are different. That he’s going to be the partner you need and he’s going to make sure both of you are the best versions of yourself. Somehow that simple statement, along with everything he’s done the past week, are the final piece. You know this is going to be a partnership and you know you’re in it. Whatever happens, happens. 

Dinner passes quickly and the food is great, like you know it will be. It’s also nice not to have to cook or clean anything up. Even nicer to have the space to enjoy each other’s company without going out to dinner like every other couple for the holiday. And Minghao clearly enjoyed setting his table just right for the two of you. After dinner, you suggest watching something. Minghao lets you pick and the two of you settle onto his couch. Without overthinking it, you adjust to put your legs over his lap. He lets you get comfortable before putting his own hands back down and absently tracing patterns into the fabric of your pants. For a fleeting moment, you imagine him using your body as a canvas. Shaking your head to clear the thought, you focus back on the TV.

After a while, you start to feel a little uncomfortable. Not with your legs in Minghao’s laps. That’s providing a lot of comfort. You’re stretching out your neck and rolling your shoulders without realizing it. It’s been a long week at work with too much time hunched over a computer. 

“Do you want a massage?” Minghao asks, interrupting the show. You look over at him with raised eyebrows. “You keep rubbing your neck and rolling your shoulders.”

“Of course you noticed,” you say with a chuckle. 

“Maybe a massage would help,” he offers again. 

You bite your lip in consideration. You haven’t so much as kissed Minghao since you started to spend time together again (since you’re ignoring any drunk kiss that happened at Soyoon’s party for New Year’s Eve). It’s only been a kiss to the cheek here or a temple kiss there. This is definitely more than that. You want to go slow, but you also miss the way he feels. You remember the massages after long nights of studying. 

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you say. 

The warmth in his eyes when you agree is familiar. Older and wiser, sure, but still familiar. He gets up off the couch and reaches a hand to you. “Come on, let’s go into the bedroom so it’s more comfortable.”

You place your hand into his and follow him. It’s the first time you’ve seen his bedroom and it’s so simple. A few pieces of his art sit in the corner. For the most part, you can tell he only uses the space to sleep.

“I’m going to get some lotion. You can get settled,” he says and places a soft kiss on your temple. 

Once he disappears, you make a decision. You remove your shirt and bra so that your back is bare when you lay down on his bed. You settle on the bed with your head up by the pillow so that you can collect part of his sheet around your chest. It’s a little awkward, being half-naked and wondering how to position yourself. It only takes Minghao a few moments before he’s coming back through the bedroom door. His breath catches when he sees you. 

“I hope this is okay,” you say, carefully turning to look at him. “My shoulders and neck are so tense that I wanted you to be able to reach them easily.”

He gathers himself quickly and crosses over to his bed. Sits down next to your hip and runs a hand gently across your back. Like he’s testing if you’re actually there. “As long as you’re comfortable, then I’m happy.” 

“I am, yeah,” you say softly. 

“Okay, then let me take care of you,” he says, just as soft.

Without another word, he moves to straddle your body, using his knees on either side of you to hold the majority of his weight. Gently, he brushes your hair off your neck and over to the side. It’s enough to make you sigh and close your eyes. You hear him open the lotion to put some into his hands. Always so thoughtful, he warms it before putting his hands on your back. He starts just below your shoulders and works his way up, feeling for knots and increasing the pressure as needed. Barely a minute passes and you already feel like you could melt into his mattress. It’s definitely not just the release of tension that has you so comfortable that you could drift into sleep. No, it’s the person with his hands on you. It’s the care he shows with each movement. 

Before long, you really are drifting in between the land of being fully awake and asleep. It’s not that you could fall asleep on him. You still feel each movement. You’re just incredibly relaxed. Each of your muscles melt under the gentle touch of his nimble fingers. Even when he digs into a knot, it still feels relaxing. Professionals should be thankful that he took up art instead because he could put them all to shame. Though, admittedly, you’re biased. And you haven’t ever found the thought of a stranger massaging you to be that relaxing. There’s always the initial awkwardness before settling in. None of that happens with the person you know you trust more than yourself. 

He bends down to your ear and his breath alerts you before he says anything. “Going to fall asleep on me, sweetheart?”

His tone is light, almost teasing. It’s also confident, but not in the cocky way. He’s proud of the way he can relax you so easily. Your brain is a little foggy and maybe that’s also a good thing. You turn towards his voice and wind your arm up so that you can place a hand on the back of his head. His eyes aren’t just filled with warmth when they meet yours anymore. There’s desire there now, too, the same desire building within you. You pull him towards you and kiss him. Slow, almost lazy, at first. It quickly deepens into something more. 

It’s an awkward position, though. Minghao moves off of your back and you take the chance to also reposition, turning over and sitting up. There’s no awkwardness anymore and you don’t bother pulling the sheet with you when you face him. He takes a second to drink you in. Swallows hard as his eyes travel over your chest. In the next moment, he pulls you toward him so that he can kiss you again. You position your legs on either side of his hips to allow you to press tight against him. His kiss is urgent, tongue tangling with your own as the two of you meld into one. You wind one of your hands into his hair, only playing with the ends of it at first, wrapping pieces around your fingers. 

Minghao pulls back like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Both of your chests rise and fall quickly to catch your breath. “Are you sure?”

“That I want this?” you clarify.

“That you want this with me,” he says, still a little breathless. 

“Yes,” you say. 

“Are you really sure?” he asks again. He’s checking for consent and also giving you an out.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you confirm. 

You think that he’s leaning back in so that he can kiss you again. Until he uses a hand to tilt your head to one side and kisses along your jaw. He carries his kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. Like he’s mapping every inch of your body. Committing it to memory or maybe making up for the lost years. When you were younger, you found it difficult to accept this kind of attention. Always worrying there was some kind of imbalance. Now, all you can do is moan out your appreciation for the way Minghao worships every inch of your skin. You’re not in a rush and he’s clearly not either. You run your hands through his hair, allowing your nails to scrape lightly against his scalp and shudder at the way he moans into your skin. Do it again just to feel the way his lips vibrate. 

His hands find their way to your hips and he grips hard. Anchoring you in place and also checking to make sure it’s all real. That it’s all happening. That none of this is another one of his dreams. Every time you run your nails along his scalp, it’s a reminder that it is happening. That the two of you really have found your way back to something. In that moment, he knows that he’ll risk his heart to not spend the rest of his life wondering what could have happened. Be vulnerable now and hope it’ll work out. 

Spurred on by the soft sounds falling from your lips, Minghao moves from your collarbones down to the hollow between your breasts. You arch into his mouth and dig into his scalp, just for a second. It’s the only thing he needs to feel. Quickly, he moves his mouth over to your nipple, taking it into his mouth. Swirling around it and nipping it lightly. He moves one of his hands from your hip to take the other nipple between his fingers. Can’t have either feeling left out. It’s embarrassing how much it turns you on, like you’re some kind of horny teenager. His fingers are so nimble, so intentional in the way they tease you that you can’t help it. He swaps his mouth to your other nipple, replacing his fingers. You’re not sure what you want more.

This time, you pull back. Still kind of breathing shallowly even though you hadn’t been kissing him. His eyes are wide, pupils blown, and a little concerned. You’re quick to reassure him, hands moving to the hem of his shirt. “Can I? I don’t want to be the only half naked one anymore?”

“Of course,” he says with a smile. 

You pull the shirt up and over his head, thankful that he’s not overdressed to make it more complicated. For a second, the sight of him renders you speechless. Gently, you run your finger along his chest and down the muscles of his stomach that weren’t there when you dated him last time. The way he shudders under your touch only spurs you on. There’s a scar along his side that you don’t remember. It’s smooth to the touch, just slightly raised.

“Beautiful,” you whisper confidently. 

He can’t stand it anymore. He takes your face in his hands and pulls you into him. Kisses you again, slowly but with so much intensity that it makes your heart skip several beats. You still fit in with him like you were made for each other. He uses the kiss to shift both of your bodies and disentangle your legs. Dips you backwards until your head hits the pillow without his lips leaving yours. Once you’re lying back, though, he breaks the kiss again. Resumes kissing down your body. Makes sure to kiss away any insecurities in the process. Whispers praise into your skin that feel like a salve. This is Minghao, your Minghao. You’re safe with him. Loved. Cherished. Supported. It’s overwhelming to feel all of that come rushing back after years spent apart looking for it in someone else. Of course it’s always been him. 

Normally you’re somewhat ticklish, and you do have to fight a little nervous laugh as he kisses down your stomach, especially when his face is so close that you can feel his eyelashes against your skin. But, there really isn’t anything funny about this. Not when Minghao looks up at you while kissing your body. Seems to be mapping your reactions just as much as your skin. He pauses with his hands on your pants, silently asking for permission. Checking in to make sure that you’re still okay with this. You nod and he kisses your stomach again before unbuttoning your pants. Pulls your pants and underwear down in one fluid motion. He takes a moment to appreciate you, laid out before him. Any remaining nerves disappear. You’ve never seen someone look at you with that much love in your life. It’s overwhelming in the best way. Until Minghao resumes kissing down your body and it’s a different kind of overwhelming. His breath ghosts across your core as he places slow, open mouthed kisses along your thighs. 

Nothing has really happened, but by the time he settles between your legs, you’re already worked up. Wound so tightly that you think he could have you coming with just a touch. You consider if that would be too fast for half a second before catching sight of Minghao. He looks up at you, hair falling into his eyes, and you don’t care what happens. Don’t care how fast anything happens because it’s him. Can hardly believe that this beautiful person wants to put your needs before his own. His eyes narrow like a siren, full of focus and desire, and it takes your breath away.

“I don’t want you to hold back,” he says. “I’ve been waiting years to taste you again.”

“You wha - fuck,” you hiss out. 

He effectively short circuits your brain with one move. He doesn’t bother teasing you, just goes straight to licking into your wet cunt. Uses two fingers to spread your lips open so that he has better access. There’s no concern for building up to something. He wants to taste you and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. When his nose hits your clit, it makes you groan out and snap your thighs around his face. His groan in response vibrates through your pussy. Makes him use his thumb to rub circles on your clit without slowing his speed licking into you. It’s entirely too overwhelming in the best way. In just moments, Minghao has you writhing underneath him, gripping onto anything within your reach. His hair. The sheets. The pillow. Anything. The tension builds entirely too fast and you’re not really ready for it to be over. Not ready to have it end. 

You’re not sure if he has the same thought or not, but Minghao pulls back to look at you. The moan at the sight of your wetness all over his lips and chin is immediate. Somehow it makes him even sexier and you can’t take your eyes off him. Can’t look away as he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. With careful movements, he pulls himself up your body and lies next to you on his side to face you. Winds an arm under your neck. Places two of his fingers against your mouth and you suck them in without a thought. Swirl your tongue around his slender fingers with your eyes locked on his. Smile at the way it seems to be affecting him. With what looks like regret on his face, he pulls his fingers from your mouth and moves his hand down between your legs. Runs his middle finger up your still wet folds before inserting it. 

“Minghao, fuck, you can’t just…” you start, only to have your words cut off. 

You’re kissing again and it’s the most heated yet. The taste of you lingers on his lips. Seems to mark him as yours. You realize that maybe he’s not teasing you because he meant what he said. He’s been waiting too long for this to go slow with you. There’s plenty of time to slow down later. This is what both of you need now. He slides another finger into your pussy and pumps even faster. Doesn’t let you pull away from the kiss, catching every sound you make and adding his own sounds. The tension builds, even faster than before. In no time at all, you’re coming all over his fingers. Gasping for breath as you break the kiss and he gently pumps into you to guide you through the orgasm. 

When you can catch your breath, you look over at Minghao. Appreciate the way he just watches you. He gently brushes a piece of hair out of your face and then leans in for a soft kiss. You’re not letting him get away with that, though. Not now. Not when he just had you coming harder than you can remember in a long time. You knock the kiss up in intensity and he lets you lead. Lets you set the pace and meets every kiss with the exact right amount of pressure. Your hands are everywhere on him while you kiss, exploring all the lines and the muscles that feel a little foreign. The only obvious sign of the passage of time.

He pulls back just long enough so that he can pull his pants and briefs off. Doesn’t even look where he tosses them in the room. All he can think of is connecting his lips with yours again. About making up for all the years in between, even if you both know that you needed that time apart to find your way back. You wind your hand down between your bodies and grip his dick in your hand. Slowly run your thumb over the tip and find there’s already precum there. It fills you with so much satisfaction to know that he’s as turned on as you are. It’s a little diary, but you spit quickly in your hand. You run your hand up and down his cock a few times, twisting your fist around him. Checking to see what kind of pressure and speed he likes. 

“I just want…fuck, sweetheart,” he groans out as you run your thumb across his tip again.

“What do you want, Hao?” you ask, making your eyes as big and innocent as possible.

“I want to be inside you, want to feel you around me,” he says and your breath catches. “I don’t want to cum from a handjob like some teenager.”

“Fuck,” you say with a nod. “Yes, please, yes.”

He rolls away from you for a second to reach for his nightstand and returns with a condom and some lube. Rips the condom open with his teeth and then rolls it onto his cock. You’re about to ask him how he wants you when he pulls back and spreads your legs open. He looks at you as he lines himself up at your entrance. For a moment, he just looks at you. Then, he pours some of the lube onto the condom. Makes sure this is going to feel good for you.

“I want to watch you fall apart,” he says, voice thick with desire.

“Please,” you say softly. “I need to feel you, Hao.” 

Minghao lines himself up and presses his tip against your entrance. You’re a little sensitive from his tongue and his fingers. Still wet from that and from the intensity of the kisses afterwards. You wrap your legs around his waist as he angles into you. He leans forward, arms on either side of you so that you’re caged in. He’s sliding in so slowly, so carefully. It’s the first time he’s even come close to teasing you. Or maybe it’s just so that he can draw it out. Either way, you want him buried inside you. Can’t stop from wrapping your legs tighter around him. It’s hard to have him looking at you with so much intensity. So much eye contact. You catch the chuckle at your impatience with your lips. 

It works, though. He bottoms out with one final thrust and you would scream it if not for his lips on yours. You let him set the pace even though it’s just slower than you want. The sensitivity just makes everything feel more intense. Each time either of you breaks the kiss to catch a breath, your eyes are on each other. Uttering praise and promises into the space between the two of you. More Minghao than you, which is incredible. A steady stream of both coherent and incoherent thoughts. Somehow it all makes sense to both of you. All seems like it’s exactly right. And true to his word, when the tension builds in your body again, Minghao breaks the kiss entirely. Watches the way your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open. Appreciates every sound you make. Later he’ll tell you that he’s never seen anything more beautiful than you in that moment. For now, all he can do is watch and pick up his own pace. He wants to follow right behind you.

There’s less build up this time when you fall over the edge, toes curling and back arching. It’s even more intense too, something you didn’t think was possible. Hazily, you feel Minghao’s thrusts falter in their speed as he comes hard just after you. You try to take over the rhythm, but your body feels spent. After his final thrust, he offsets his weight so he’s not lying fully on top of you without pulling out either. Your breathing syncs up with his as you come back to the bedroom and the reality of what just happened. 

You can’t help yourself. His hair is a little wet with sweat and you reach out to brush it away. Think about how this may be your favorite hairstyle he’s ever had. He catches your hand before you even realize his eyes are on you and he kisses your palm. It makes you smile at the care in his eyes. When he releases your hand he props himself up to slowly ease out of you. You figure that you should get up as well before he presses your shoulder gently down.

“I’ve got you,” he says. 

And he does, doesn’t he? He’s shown you with his actions and even followed it up with his words. He does have you and you think he’ll probably always be there. You hear the water running from the attached bathroom and then watch him return with a wet washcloth. The bright light behind him highlights his silhouette like an angel. That’s not where it stops, though. Instead of letting you clean yourself up, he sits on the bed and runs the cloth carefully over your body. It makes your heart hurt to have him taking care of you like this, so tender and full of such pure affection. Once he finishes, he tosses the washcloth over to the nightstand. You pull him into you so that you can cuddle close. 

Even though you could probably stay like that for the rest of the night, you know that you either need to change the sheets or figure something out. You run a hand over his arm thoughtfully. That’s when it hits you and you turn your face to his. “Do you wanna go sleep in my bed with me and we can deal with your bed tomorrow?”

His laugh is light, easy. “Inviting me to bed on the second date, what will the neighbors say?” 

You swat at his arm without any real force. “That you’re incredibly lucky, I expect.”

“They’re right about that,” he says, any teasing gone in the completely honest statement. It’s a little too much for you, at least for a minute. Minghao, in his infinite wisdom, lets you have the moment. He moves from the bed and helps you up with him. Even helps you track down your clothing that’s gotten more scattered than you realize. 

It’s so easy to fall back into a rhythm with him even though it feels entirely different. Familiar and new. Fitting for the enigma that is the man before you. Which is when it hits you, just as he’s reaching the door to the hallway. Minghao stops to turn around and see why you’re not right behind him. 

“Are you coming? I don’t really want to have to break into your place,” he says with another light laugh.

“Been working on your cat burglar skills during the past few years, have you?” you joke back and he just shakes his head. Closes the space between you and collects you into his arms.

“I think that’s your wishful thinking about wanting a cat,” he says and you laugh.

“Could be,” you concede.

“Shall we?” he asks when he releases you.

“Just a second,” you say and he regards you with clear curiosity. “Earlier you told me that you loved me and…”

“It’s okay,” he says quickly. You mistake it for him thinking you don’t feel the same.

“No, I need to say something,” you say and he swallows anything else. “I love you, too.”

“I know,” he says with a smile that has you rolling your eyes. Of course he knows. You’re entirely smitten and once again, the last one to know. “And how lucky am I to have someone who loves me like you do as a Valentine? To be loved by someone that I love as much as I love you?” 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hao.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day. Here’s to a lifetime more of these.”

“I can’t wait.”

[fullfriendnerdclutch]

Rites: Valentine

Same-sex relationship is still illegal in my country and punishable with prison term, that's why me and my boyfriend always have to lay low in public and even also took some extra measures in private to ensure our safety. But, for Valentine's Day, we always did something special for the past 2 years and we absolutely planned to do it again this year. Last year it was two stereotypical American college football jocks, this year.....well, we wanted something different

We stumbled upon this opportunity during our research about moving out from our country and settle in an entirely different one. They helped people to relocate for short-term, like quick break from daily living, to long-term such as a complete change of life. Was it the alcohol or what that clouded our judgment back then, but we followed through the procedure back at that day from that shady website and found ourselves the following morning not next to each other and in a completely different country altogether. It was chaotic but we managed to found each other and have the best sex of our relationship to that date before all in a sudden ripped away from the two fine dadbod to return to our ordinary life when the time was up

This year, we're much more well-planned and prepared as we decided to go to Brazil to celebrate our 3rd Valentine together. Spotting that Valentine falls on Friday this year, we also requested a return back to our body by Sunday evening in our country timezone because we still need to go to work on Monday after all

"Ready?"

"Always. Directly DM me, okay?"

"Sure thing, babe,"

"Okay, good night,"

---

I know it's our third time doing this, but it's always giving me such chills to open my eyes and found myself to not be in bed but actually in the middle of doing something inside a completely different body. We did mention to the agency to land us inside fit, 21-35 years old age group Brazilian men, but the weight of it really only hit when you experienced it, and it's certainly true for this one because this guy I'm in is thick!

It's Friday morning here in Rio, and I'm inside this huge tatted hunk named Gonzalo, his buzzcut and overall style makes him look very intimidating but there's a charming side to this handsome stud that I know I won't be able to resist if he flashes his smile to me. A small dog on a leash that I held added another element of surprise because I'm terrified of dog and I really cannot touch dog but I think Gonzalo here has no problem with it, right? I quickly take a selfie of myself and directly send the picture to my boyfriend's Insta as Gonzalo's insta is accessible anyway. Ohhh....he's typing right away, so he logged in to his account already huh......I wonder how he looks like

"Morning, handsome stranger. Just finished with my morning run, I'm reeked. Name's Joao,"

Fuck me, he's looking like a snack! Gonzalo's memory is filled with women and these repeated names of Carla that appeared in a lot of the memory, a girlfriend of Gonzalo apparently, but sorry to that woman, boyfriend is not going to celebrate Valentine's Day with her this year. I started to add my own input to Gonzalo's mind and make this body heated for the snack that is Joao on my screen, as I type my reply stating my interest to come over to check out how reeked he is. This two dudes might not actually know each other, but we don't really care about all that because what mattered for now is the fact that my boyfriend is inside of that man and I want to give him the love and fucking he deserved for his Valentine's Day

Once I receive the detail of his apartment location and another sultry selfie of his already taking off his musky cap and sweaty tanktop, I'm headed his way with the dog coming along with me.

The temperature in Rio is not that different with our hometown, so I find no problem strutting around over here through the walkways to the apartment located around 25 minutes walk from Gonzalo's residence. The people is definitely a lot more diverse and wearing a much-more revealing clothes compared to my hometown, but really, my mind just wandered to the idea of my boyfriend inside that taut Brazilian twunk, probably still sweaty with almost no clothings on already waiting for me. The colors of the street, the sight and senses of a new city, everything becomes secondary as I can feel the throbbing meat is accustomed to its owner's gay thoughts and just ready to be released from its cotton prison.

When I finally ring the bell of his apartment unit, the door opened quickly to the sight I simply cannot resist. I instantly lunged at him for a kiss and before long, we're already stripped naked from all our clothings as we consummate our Brazilian outings right here in this apartment while the sun shines nicely on us and the neighbors clearly can see us fucking each other but not gonna call police on us

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

Zae!!!!! (you know me, this is going to be long lmaooo)

That was so incredibly hot I'm not even kidding. I have so many things to say and it still won't do justice to how incredible reading Evanescence was.

First of all, I want to say just how funny that cut was between the woman from Doyle's Tavern insulting him and asking for money in exchange for information to Arthur walking out with said info, all his money and a ban from the Tavern?? Idk it just made me laugh out loud for real 😂. Alright, now more serioulsy—

"Instinct lured him to the debauched inn, and your name frothed from his muzzle in more of a growl than speech. Like a rabid dog, he snapped and barked orders at the women unlucky enough to be trapped with the beast on the arena floor."

Looove that section and the paragraph after. Fellow figurative lovers, we are spoiled. And Jesus am I completely insane for finding the whole thing even hotter with a bestial, animalistic Arthur like this? Perfect comparison.

And the whole ring part! Their entire relationship is SO well written and so well balanced. You had shared your doubts with me about how to write an LH, but my GOD, this was absolutely perfect. GIVE YOURSELF MORE CREDIT I'M BEGGING YOU!!

His intrinsic violence, his possessiveness that dominates him in spite of himself is so in character, and YET, we love it, we love him, just as always.

I so love all the nuances you described in both him and the Reader. She's aware of the problems in their relationship and wants to fight him; she refuses to make things easy for him and give him what he wants. She loves him and hates him so much at the same time... And Arthur, all his impulsiveness, his brutality make us think he's looking for control at all costs; in the end, it's just the only way he can react to the fact that it's him who's completely in love with her and under her thumb. Brilliant. The dialogue in this part is really perfect, with Arthur repeating the “Yours” more and more surely. *sighs*

“You don’t own me, Arthur Morgan!” But the shouting was no use. He closed in on you again, and you reached out, clenching your fists in his shirt to stop his advance. If he noticed, he didn’t let on, talking with a tight jaw. “No, dammit, cause you own me.”

And the wild kiss right after! The whole prey and predator game, so so good. You know I'm suuuuch a sucker for these kinds of comparisons. And the way they're fighting each other but getting closer at the same time... So, so erotic.

And EXCUSEEEE ME, Reader insulting him as they succomb to it? I am so into this. God it made my body feel all sorts of ways 🥵🔥

He knew you were dancing dangerously close to the cliff’s overhang by the way you were keeping him in place, right where you wanted him. But the brute stopped and locked eyes with you, lips curved downward. That slight glimpse of vulnerability you thought you’d seen earlier was now on full display. “Say you won’t go,” he choked out.  Down on his knees, looking up at you with genuine sincerity was the closest he’d ever get to prayer or penance. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat but didn’t answer him.

Oh. My. Lord. I could DIE from this simple vision. This is just incredibly hot and so good to read; I wasn't expecting him to actually be the dominated one here. (Big boys just want to be taken care of, don't they?🤭😉)

And Jesus, how do you achieve that Zae? Because the part after was even better!!! Honestly, I was already choking here, and then that:

“No good, thieving, murderous bastard.”  “I know.” He drew out, tightly clutching the sheets. With a firm nudge, you urged him onto his back.  “You don’t deserve me. Never did,” you continued. His hips jutted in time with your wrist, his climax sitting low in his balls.   “I–dammit–I–kn–know.” The muscles of his stomach constricted as he fought for breath, damn near suffocating under your touch.  “I’ll change.” He gasped, eyes closed, and brow furrowed. “I’ll change. But–ahh–I ain’t ever gonna be good enough for you, woman–nghh–no matter how much changin’ I do.”

I AM DEAD!!!! I loved this part so much I think I read it four times already!!! I mean come on guys, the dialogue, every word sounds so fcking good, perfectly transcribing his voice, making him spit out he's indeed too bad for her, and her stroking him like this, him babbling that he'll change? I'm getting all excited again just talking about it 🫠 This is definitely one of my favorite fic moments, ever.

And of course, as always, the grandiose climax, with once again the predator comparison but with HER as a lioness???? ZAE MARRY ME. This was absolute perfection. And even better, the second echo with him finishing inside, while she asserts "Yours". I just can't with that level of perfection, of masterfulness. This is mind-blowing, Zae. You really made me lose my mind with this one.

The last words also struck me; they are so relevantly bitter-sweet. An ideal ending for this nuanced relationship. You're forever inspiring me.

To conclude, one of my new favorites of yours (yes I knoooow every new one is becoming one of my favorites of yours, but hell I'm just a girl and you're still so incredibly talented!). I'm left in awe of your talent, every time, and here especially with such a subtle LH Arthur. Please, be proud, because you really did him justice. Bravo, bravo, bravo.

Love u! -Your loyal Piney 💞

Evanesce

Summary: You try to runway. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 3,673 Tags: angst, smut, mid-low honor Arthur, handjob, unprotected p in v, oral, breeding kink, tb? Don’t know her. Warnings: 18+ MDNI, toxic relationship

An: I feel like I ran a never ending marathon with this one. Drafted it a month ago, but I never really vibed with it. Challenged myself to just get it done and make sure I was proud of it. Once again, I'm trying to step out of my comfort zone. Shout out to @googoolies for the note idea! As always, I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

Tagging @hihomeghere because you asked ❤️

Evanesce: to dissipate like vapor

Worn floorboards of Shady Bell wailed under Arthur’s weight as songbirds began their morning melodies. The gunslinger scoped the eerily empty, quiet camp for traces of you, but all he found was a folded letter on his pillow.

Echoes of your last conversation flashed in his mind as he tramped across the narrow room to retrieve the note. Two nights ago, The Old Guard overlooked their kingdom from the second-floor balcony as they discussed their plans to wage war against Angelo Bronte. Bile stung the back of your throat as two-thirds of the trio outruled the other. Hosea’s final words to Dutch and Arthur, “You’ll damn us all,” filled you with dread and the overwhelming feeling of impending doom.

Arthur avoided your shadowed eyes as he reloaded his weapons and ignored your outcry against Dutch’s plan. Your desperation had turned swiftly to indignation, and an argument commenced, your voices clashing like swords. You begged him not to go, pleading with the enforcer to listen to reason for once, to listen to you. But he pushed back with the shield of obstinance he had long forged for survival. 

“I don’t take orders from you, woman, and keep your goddamn voice down.”

Thousands of tiny needles pricked at the backs of your eyes at the harsh directive, but you held firm. 

“Arthur, if you go I’ll–” 

“Don’t,” he warned dismissively, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and ambling to the door. He didn’t even bother saying goodbye as he twisted the knob. Your last words fell on ears deafened from years of gunfire. 

“If you leave, I won’t be here when you come back.”

Two days later, Arthur masked his guilt with anger as he skimmed over the last piece of you left in the room. Four words in the polite loops of your handwriting taunted him: Saint Denis. Train. Running. 

After a quick check of the cinch, he found himself begrudgingly engulfed in the city of smog and greed he’d come to hate so much. Riding through the maze of cobblestone, brick, and vermin was like laying under a guillotine, staring up at the blade and waiting for it to drop. Law on every corner, people jammed together, and now, Bronte’s men out for revenge–none of it felt right. 

Taking in a breath that didn’t reach deep enough, he started his search for you in this hornets’ nest of a city. Most of the hotels and saloons served him with nothing but a heavy dose of adrenaline and dead ends. As he approached Doyle’s Tavern, his last stop, he dug his nails into his trembling palm, savoring the sting of apathy that came with the pain.

Arthur made a beeline to Gabe Doyle, reciting his rehearsed description of you. A woman standing beside him, whose garments had seen cleaner days, tapped him on the shoulder. The outlaw didn’t even look at her, didn’t give her time to speak before he rejected her with razor-edge disdain. When Arthur finished, Gabe only shrugged his shoulders, but the woman, still standing close by, let out a derisive giggle.

“He won’t be of no help, mista’. Coulda’ told ya’ for free, but it’ll cost ya’ now.”

Ire made his ears ring, drowning out all the other sounds in the slum’s saloon. He drummed his fingers hard on the worn wooden bar, the taste of pride sour on his tongue. 

“How much?” 

Cleavage spilled over her top as she leaned towards him and twiddled brazenly with the collar of his shirt. 

“Well, for clients that play nice, seven dollars, but for you, rotten dirty bastard––times it by ten.” 

A minute later, he exited Doyle’s Tavern not a cent lighter, heavy with an indefinite ban, but finally, a real lead on you. Four new mocking words overshadowed ones from the letter: Whore house; Courtenay Street. 

A brothel—a goddamn brothel. 

Instinct lured him to the debauched inn, and your name frothed from his muzzle in more of a growl than speech. Like a rabid dog, he snapped and barked orders at the women unlucky enough to be trapped with the beast on the arena floor.

They tried futilely to stop his march down the hall, tried to keep him from getting to you, but the chaos drew you into the colosseum and into the lion’s direct line of sight. You yanked the man-turned-animal by the sleeve and sealed yourselves away before he could do any more damage. 

More tame now, sea storm orbs surveyed you in a quick but covert once over, then he spun on his heel, searching for anything else to focus on.

“Christ, been looking for you all day, woman,” he bit out through clenched teeth. 

The lone wolf prowled the new territory for a threat but was only met with a vacant cave and the empty feeling of shame. Deflecting, he found your luggage, lifting the bags with the practiced ease of carrying buckets of water to and fro. His biceps flexed with the weight of your whole life in one bag, but he nodded at you, matter of fact. 

“C’mon. M’taking you home.”

Home. You could’ve laughed if it didn’t hurt so much. None of these places had ever been home.

“I ain’t going nowhere with you,” you fired back, grabbing for the suitcase in his hand. A brief game of tug-of-war ensued, your grip relentless, Arthur’s unwavering, until he finally let you pull one of the bags free. He dropped the other and exhaled with the sharpness of a saber but stayed silent at the conclusion of your weaponless duel. He’d fallen in love with that gnawing defiance, but now it was tearing him to pieces, bit by bit until it exposed the marrow of pure anger.

“Runnin’ off is one thing.” His nostrils flared, and the timbre of his voice deepened as he carried on, “But running off t’here–– selling yourself?” He shook his head and blew air through his teeth, “Yer crazier than I thought.”

You whirled away from him, swatting your hand like he was as insignificant as a fly.

“And you’re a bigger idiot than I thought. Ain’t selling myself, you damn fool! And I’ll do whatever the hell I please. Right now, I want to get far away from this shit city and you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, dragging out the words. “I know you just as well as you think you know me. If you wanted away–really wanted away–you wouldn’t’ve left this pretty little letter, and sure as hell wouldn’t’ve told me where to find ya’.” He retrieved the letter from his satchel, held it up just long enough for you to see, and crushed it in his fist before discarding it on the floor.

“That’s what I think of your pretty little letter.” 

You had started a slow involuntary backtrack during his monologue, the flight response pushing back against the fight. He followed, sandwiching you between himself and the door.

“Screw you.” Scorn was hot on your breath.   

Just as you thought to turn the knob, to free yourself from the prison of flesh and wood, the iron teeth of a bear trap, his fingers, clamped around your wrist, bringing your hand to eye level. 

“And you still got something of mine.”

Both pairs of eyes landed on a small round sparkling opal set in a gold band on your left ring finger.

You’d never forget finding it on your pillow along with a letter from Arthur that just said, “One day…”

He had made promises he didn’t keep. First, you just had to wait for the Ferry Job. Next, you needed to survive Colter. Then you had to get far away from the Pinkertons, and most recently, all you needed to do was help case the Lemoyne National Bank. One last job, he’d told you. It was the same thing he said before leaving for that boat in Blackwater.

Contempt flowed through your veins as you tried to wrench free. God, you hated him right now, but you hated yourself more for letting him fool you.

“Let go.” You hissed, seething. 

Your hand throbbed as he gave your wrist another squeeze.

“You first.” Then he nodded towards the stone on your finger. “My ring,” he demanded.

Your knuckles collided with the wood of the door with a hard knock as you freed your hand. You flattened your palm against the wood behind your back, guarding the ring from the career thief’s piercing gaze.

“No,” you shot back, sinking into yourself. “It’s mine.” 

Your finger throbbed around the ring you’d seldom taken off. It had become part of you, melded to your skin like a vine coiled around a tree in a beautiful and deadly embrace. 

“Yours?” he huffed incredulously, shaking his head, trying to form your words into something he could understand. For a short beat, the heavy huff and puff of his breath was the only thing you could register. 

You had mined forever to find something other than cold coals of anger within him. You thought you’d found it—thought you’d finally struck gold when he confessed his feelings for you somewhere out west all that time ago. Now, you were left wondering if it was only fool’s gold you had stumbled upon. The cowardly knight was far too proud and far too afraid of getting stabbed to lay down his armor. But you were having a silent conversation with those sad eyes, reading words he’d never speak or ask aloud. What does that make me, then? 

“Yours.” He answered his inner thoughts without hesitation.

Mine. You thought back but only stared at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of cracking under his scrutiny. 

“Yours.” He repeated assuredly, final. 

It was your turn to shake your head now; you could hear his vocal cords vibrating, generating sounds you were supposed to understand, but he may as well have been speaking another language because what the hell did he know about being anybody else’s? You repeated your thoughts bluntly.

For a moment, he looked stunned, but then his hand shot out, cupping your jaw and tilting your face toward his. He was so close, you could smell him now. The scents of liquor on his breath and leather in his hat permeated your whole being.

“You don’t think–” His voice was low and trembling with fury. “I been yours since the goddamn day I laid eyes on you, and you know it.”

Fight, flight, freeze, and now fawn all warred for dominance. Twin mirrors of blue cosmos peered into your soul, but you didn’t look back, knowing that black holes of destruction ruled in the center and could swallow you in the blink of an eye.

“You have to go, Arthur.”

You tried to reach for the knob again, but Arthur imposed on you further, his chest brushing against yours. 

“No,” he said. “I ain’t going nowhere without you, and you ain’t going nowhere without me. M’done talking about it.”

It’s like he couldn’t listen, couldn’t hear you, couldn’t respect what you wanted. He only ever responded to shouting and violence. So you dipped down to his level, anything to get him to understand. Your open hand pushed full force against his chest, knocking the wind from him and making him stumble backward.

“You don’t own me, Arthur Morgan!”  

But the shouting was no use. He closed in on you again, and you reached out, clenching your fists in his shirt to stop his advance. If he noticed, he didn’t let on, talking with a tight jaw.

“No, dammit, cause you own me.” 

You balled your fists around cotton fabric and pulled him down into you, inhaling like you were bracing for the worst. This game, Predator and Prey, had become second nature to you. You would always be his fawn, thrashing and wailing, yet never escaping the salivating jaws of the coyote. And it always ended the same: a clash of heavy breathing and snarls before you surrendered.

Tobacco and whiskey never tasted so good, and they were just as addictive as him. Your teeth clashed together, and his left hand fell to your hip while his right twisted the lock on the knob. 

He was never gentle, but now, he was almost crazed. Rough hands that were trembling only an hour ago were all over you, gripping your jaw, sliding under your blouse, pushing and pulling you to his whim.

“Falling in love with you was the dumbest thing I ever did,” you confessed as he removed his hat and set it aside; he had better access to you without it. Heat surged through you as his hands bit into your hips, pinning you in place against the locked door. 

You mumble under your breath, “Bastard.”  

So far, he was ignoring your attempts to rouse him; you were his pretty little doe, caught in his chops, and a few barbs wouldn’t keep him from utterly devouring you. Dipping his head into your neck, he fixated on that pulsing artery, taking no time to roll the flesh between his teeth.

“Goddamn asshole,” you huffed but cradled his head as he claimed you.

He brushed over the ruptured blood vessels with his knuckles, and the bastard was smiling, eyes glazed over with lust and self-indulgence. Electricity sparked down your legs as he looped his fingers in the waistband of your skirt. 

You swore to yourself two nights ago that it was all over, that you wouldn’t let him slither back, yet here you were, Eve, being tempted by the serpent. Teeth sank into the forbidden fruit with the lift of your hips off the door, giving him permission to snatch both your skirt and bloomers down in a swift pull. Arthur didn’t need much persuasion to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil; a man like him could have never lived for eternity in The Garden of Eden. 

The pair of you wore pride like heraldry, but neither of you was as honorable as you’d led the other to believe. You, provoking him with the threat of leaving, knowing you’d let this happen as you always did, and him never changing and never stopping the cycle of broken promises. 

Your scent was intoxicating, but he held off from relishing it, studying your face like he’d done many times before. Something was different this time, though. Only for a heartbeat, you saw something in his eye, a minuscule hint of vulnerability. You blinked, and it was gone like it was never there, replaced by an unabashed smirk. You kept the insults flying. 

“Jerk.”

Hearing the laugh rumble in his chest made your skin prick up the same way it did when a thunderstorm was brewing on the horizon. The cowboy braced his hands against your thighs and peeked up at you, his lips still curved in the corners.

He lifted his eyebrow in question, “You done?”

“Shut up,” you responded, tangling your fingers in his hair and guiding him, not so gracefully, to the heat between your legs. 

Obeying, he flicked his tongue out to lap at you, drawing you closer in a hug, his palms resting on the curve of your ass cheeks. Steadying yourself against the door, you tugged on his hair like reins, but fuck, you didn’t want him to stop. You grunted and cursed under your breath as that gluttonous, greedy grifter feasted on you. 

Blasphemous sounds rose up from your chest as you rocked your hips feverishly with every swipe of his warm wet tongue against your clit. Every tug of his locs and bump of your mound into his nose sent blood pulsing full speed to the bulge in his pants. He knew you were dancing dangerously close to the cliff’s overhang by the way you were keeping him in place, right where you wanted him. But the brute stopped and locked eyes with you, lips curved downward. That slight glimpse of vulnerability you thought you’d seen earlier was now on full display.

“Say you won’t go,” he choked out. 

Down on his knees, looking up at you with genuine sincerity was the closest he’d ever get to prayer or penance. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat but didn’t answer him.

Instead, you ushered him back to his feet and crashed your lips into his again, tangling your tongue with his.

In a swift motion, you popped his suspenders loose while you walked him backward. The backs of his knees hit the bed, and he shimmied off his multiple layers just as quick as you unfastened the buttons on your blouse. You stood before him, a goddess, determining his eternal fate. And he waited, fixated on you, languidly stroking his engorged cock while you decided.

You replaced his fisted grip with yours, bending to meet his eye. The almost frown on his face made you wonder what he was seeing staring back at him. You imagined your pupils blown out, your lips swollen, and your hair disheveled. Arthur was the only man in the world who could turn you into a vixen. 

“You’re a fool, Arthur Morgan.” Your noses were almost touching as you tightened your grip and stroked him painfully slowly. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded, his face downright solemn. 

“Mhm,” you went on, rubbing circles atop his hot, leaking pink tip. Your pace quickened as your cheek grazed his. A shiver ran through him as the vibrations of your voice tickled his ear.

“No good, thieving, murderous bastard.” 

“I know.” He drew out, tightly clutching the sheets. With a firm nudge, you urged him onto his back. 

“You don’t deserve me. Never did,” you continued. His hips jutted in time with your wrist, his climax sitting low in his balls.  

“I–dammit–I–kn–know.”

The muscles of his stomach constricted as he fought for breath, damn near suffocating under your touch. 

“I’ll change.” He gasped, eyes closed, and brow furrowed. “I’ll change. But–ahh–I ain’t ever gonna be good enough for you, woman–nghh–no matter how much changin’ I do.”

Air finally flowed back through with the halt of your pumping. The mattress sunk with your added weight as you slung your legs on either side of him. Neither party stalled. You gave him a quick nod before he could even ask, and he sank his length into your warm, wet pussy. There were no hushing kisses, no waiting for you to adjust, no cajoling, just the smacking of skin and the aroma of sex in the room as he molded you to his girth. Bashfulness had never even crossed your mind. You rode him tirelessly, whimpering, gasping, and filling the air with his name. 

The roles reversed; you were the animal now, a lioness pursuing a buck. Chasing the high, you galloped hard and fast and grinding your hips against his to relieve the throbbing ache in your clit. You massaged the sensitive nub between your thighs, indulging in the pleasure you were giving yourself and receiving from him. The tip of his cock bumped that sweet spot inside of you, the one that made you tense and cry out over and over again. 

You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want him to know what he was doing to you or how he was making you feel–how he always made you feel when he was burrowed deep inside of you. You couldn’t hide from him, though. He knew you–knew the faces and sounds you made, knew the way you tightened around him, knew how you stiffened, knew how your breathing shallowed when you were on the edge. He knew the control he’d have over you forever.

“You ain’t going nowhere.” He grunted as he pounded up into you, the knot in his stomach tightening with his own upcoming release. 

“Fucker,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, and you love it.” 

You couldn’t deny it.

He took your hand in his and felt for the ring on your finger, stroking it, all while keeping eye contact and hammering relentlessly into your velvety walls. Four more thrusts and your eyes rolled back as the lightbulb of tension burst.

“That’s right, let it go, there it is.” Muttering, his upward ruts got sloppier as you rode out your body-spasming orgasm. Then he started babbling, lost in your sweet heat,

“Shit, I’m–bout t–m’close.”

The cowboy tried to lift you up, tried not to spill inside of you, but you buried your head in the crook of his neck and lowered yourself back down, taking him balls deep.

“Goddamnit,” he growled, hugging you to his chest, “the hell you doing, t’me, woman?” He panted and stared up at the ceiling like a man condemned. 

“Ain’t going nowhere,” you echoed breathlessly, still bouncing, before adding, “Yours.” 

In a few more strokes, he filled you up, grunting through his teeth and cursing up a storm that’d make even the most seasoned sailors look on timidly.

Outside noises of the establishment and the streets of Saint Denis droned back in as both of you came back to your senses. An ocean of things was left unsaid as you redressed and let Arthur lead you out of the room and to a proper hotel for the night. The next morning, you took Arthur up on his offer to get away for a few days. As the train you had boarded for your trip chugged on, something in the distance piqued your interest, a small homestead. You could vaguely make out a woman sitting on the porch and a man, presumably her husband, tending to a horse nearby. Of course, you didn’t know their life or their struggles, but if you could write your own happily ever after, it would be that. Arthur nudged you with his elbow, interrupting your daydream.  

“M’sorry...about everything,” he said, low, barely audible. The perpetual ache in your chest had almost gone numb after so long. Almost. 

“I know.” You replied and turned back to the window. The house was out of sight now, and you had a feeling your fairy tale ending had vanished with it.

[steddie-island]

Scheduling Conflict

Written for @steddiebingo Kissing Booth mini event Prompts: Boyfriend, chocolate Rating: E | WC: 1,278 | No CW | Tags: Minor rockstar Eddie Munson, anniversary fic, Eddie is a mess, make up sex (sort of), Porn without plot ao3 | Divider credit

It was obvious as soon as Steve opened the door that someone had been in his house. His house was never messy, but it was even more clean than usual.

He frowned, lifted his bag up beside his head in preparation for using it as a weapon. The mystery person had cleaned, but that did nothing to convince Steve that he wasn't getting ready to be robbed.

He rounded the corner into the kitchen at the same time the intruder headed for the living room.

"Stevie—" There was a yelp as Steve's bag came into contact with someone's hand.

"Eddie?" Steve dropped his bag where he stood and reached out for his boyfriend's hand immediately.

"Who else did you think it would be?" Eddie shook out the muscles in his hand and gave Steve an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to scare you, sunshine."

"I thought you couldn't make it home." Steve brought Eddie's hand to his lips to press a kiss to his palm.

"I was trying to surprise you." Eddie gathered Steve close. "I'm so sorry, Stevie. I tried to get here in time, but there were so many fucking delays. I'm so sorry you had to spend our anniversary by yourself."

Steve blinked at him, but before he could say anything else Eddie was kissing him, slow and sweet enough to make him shiver.

"I'm gonna make it up to you." Eddie tipped his head to the side and began kissing down his throat. "I said this tour wouldn't be able to keep us apart for important shit and I fucking meant it."

Steve's mind went hazy as Eddie's teeth dragged against the sharp edge of his jaw. "Ed…"

"I'll make it up to you," Eddie said again. He took one of Steve's hands in his and pulled him towards their bedroom.

It took Steve's eyes a few moments to adjust to the dancing of the candle light. There were rose petals strewn over every available surface and in a trail leading from the doorway to the end of the bed. On the bed was a small pile of petals that held a heart shaped box of chocolate.

"Eddie, sweetheart—"

"Shush." Eddie pecked Steve's lips, killing his arguments before they could even begin to take root. "Let me do this for you. Please."

Steve felt a little guilty, but the guilt started dissipating as soon as Eddie's fingers slipped beneath his sweater. "…If you insist."

Eddie gave a triumphant little whoop, then pulled Steve in to kiss him again.

Kissing Eddie never failed to make his head spin and his knees weak. Kissing Eddie after weeks of not seeing him was something even more heady. He couldn't help but moan as calloused fingers trailed through the hair on his chest before brushing over one of his nipples.

"Fuck, I've missed you." Eddie repeated the movement and relished in the way Steve's entire body responded to the contact. He pulled his hand away to start tugging Steve's soft red sweater off over his head. "We have reservations later, I'm gonna take you out on the town, show you off, but I needed to have you first, to show you how sorry I really am."

"Eddie…" Steve felt all thoughts flee his mind as Eddie's lips left a trail of fire from his shoulder to his throat. He was sure he would have bruises that he would need to hide tomorrow, if Eddie's teeth against his skin had anything to say about it, but he didn't have it in him to care. He loved having secret marks beneath his clothes, where only he and Eddie knew about them. He liked feeling owned, feeling like he belonged to and with someone else. "Fuck…"

"We're going to." Eddie tossed Steve's sweater towards the hamper. His mouth was on Steve's chest, ghosting over the guitar pick that Steve wore all the time. "I'm gonna make it up to you."

"Eddie—" Once again Steve's thoughts fled his mind as Eddie's teeth dug into his chest, his tongue flicking lightly over Steve's nipple and sending electric shocks through his body.

He reached back to move the box of chocolate before falling onto the bed. Eddie was on him. As their mouths met in another deep kiss, nimble fingers worked Steve's pants open and slipped in to tease him through his underwear.

"So fucking wet, always so wet for me."

"Eddie—" Steve gasped as Eddie squeezed his cock.

Steve had no time to adjust to Eddie's hands on his body. Eddie sat up and curled his fingers around Steve's waistband before pulling both pants and underwear down together, until Steve was naked and spread out before him.

"Goddamn, I'm a lucky man." Eddie lowered his head. His teeth sank into the meat of Steve's thigh, making him cry out as his tender skin was worked over.

Eddie sucked and bit his way higher, reveling in every gasp and whimper and plea for more. By the time he had Steve's thighs over his shoulders and his mouth around his boyfriend's cock Steve was a shaking mess.

The shaking didn't stop as Eddie's lips and tongue worked his cock over, or as Eddie worked two fingers into his body. It didn't stop as he spilled down Eddie's throat, or when Eddie was finally over him again, pressing inside of him and stretching him even more.

"Fuck— Eddie—" Steve panted. He hitched his legs higher around Eddie's waist and held on tight.

Eddie buried his face in Steve's throat again as their hips came flush together. "I love you. I fucking love you."

Steve nodded, gripped Eddie's hair tight as Eddie started moving inside of him.

Eddie's thrusts were long and deep, deep enough to drive the air out of Steve's lungs. Just when Steve thought he couldn't take any more, when he thought he was going to topple over the edge, Eddie pulled out and flipped him over.

The change in position had Eddie driving deeper, had Steve begging even louder as he buried his hand in his boyfriend's hair again.

More bruises were worked against the back of Steve's neck, against his shoulders as Eddie fucked into him hard and fast.

When Steve came it was without warning, with a cry of Eddie's name and his entire body shuddering.

Eddie kept going, trying to stretch it out long enough for his own orgasm to crash over him and for him to spill deep into Steve's body.

"I know that doesn't fix anything," Eddie said when they had pulled apart and sat up against the headboard. The box of chocolates rested, open, between them on the bed. "I just want you to know I did try to get here on time."

It came rushing back to Steve why Eddie had been so adamant about getting into bed, about why he'd set all of this up— beyond it being a special occassion, even.

Steve pushed the chocolates away before moving to straddle Eddie's lap. Eddie's skin glowed with the flickering light coming off of the candles, making his eyes even darker than they usually were. "Eddie… sweetheart… I appreciate everything you did today." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth. "I love how hard you tried to get here, and how much work you put into this. It's— beautiful. But…" Steve brought his hands up to cup Eddie's cheeks before pulling him in for a warm kiss.

"But?" Eddie murmured, sounding almost nervous.

Steve smiled and reached for his phone. He pushed a button, making the date light up, before turning it towards Eddie. "But.... our anniversary isn't until tomorrow."

[pjmmania]

If Snow Decides to Fall

8. “Bumps in the road.”

Author's Note: Another rollercoaster of a chapter…oops ;)

Chapter Warnings: heavy smut (extremely kinky), pregnancy, explicit language, toxic parental relationship, mental health struggles

Taglist: @marihoneywk @amarawayne @chimmy-licious

Back to Chapter Index

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Jimin you can't just leave now," Yoongi said, "This is serious."

Hoseok scoffed, "Yeah, you can't just tell us 'Seoyeon's back' without a little elaboration."

Grabbing his room key off the mini bar, Jimin paused. His back was turned to the group. He could hardly think, after having just screamed at Namjoon and received the most unexpected information.

His shoulders dropped from a tense height as he exhaled a deep breath. He had sent you a text immediately after getting off the call. You were awake and agreed to speak with him about it. It wasn't like you were going to be able to sleep anytime soon.

His voice was now scratchy from yelling, "I need to speak to Y/N. She’s meeting me in my room. I think she tried to tell me this earlier, multiple times. We just kept getting interrupted."

"I agree that she needs to be a part of the conversation, but so do we," Jin replied gently, "It's a delicate situation. I'm sure the company will handle it, but we should all be on the same page here. This woman almost...well we all know what she almost did."

"Then come with me if you want. I don't care," Jimin turned to face them all, his eyes firmly alert as he pointed at Namjoon, "But not you. I don't want you near her."

The blonde man was completely calm at this point, maybe even humble, "Jimin-"

"No,” he held solid, “I haven’t told everyone in this room yet, but at the ultrasound we found out that her blood pressure is too high. It’s largely due to stress, and it could become a real problem if she can’t get it under control. The last thing she needs is to feel under attack.”

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon said, his tone sincere and soft, “I didn’t know that. And I’m sorry for the argument. I think it’s important for us all to know what’s going on, like Jin said. You have my word that I’ll shut up and listen. But I don’t want to affect her health and if you truly don’t want me there, I’ll respect it. I’m…I’m really sorry.”

His head dropped as if to hide in shame. The man rubbed his palm against his forehead.

No one spoke, waiting for Jimin’s response.

He pursed his lips together and closed his eyes, “Fine. Let's go."

As they all filtered out of Hoseok's room and into his, which was further down the hall, you were on your way up in your sleep shorts, another one of Jimin's t-shirts, and slippers.

You were so glad that the company didn't book you a shared room with Chaeyoung. Otherwise, this would be tough to explain.

The guys were on the top floor. They had an entire hallway booked out for them, to give them a nice cushion of privacy. You were confident no one would see you, but just in case, you wore your company staff badge on a lanyard around your neck.

You could feel the anxiety bubbling up within you, so you focused on controlling deep breaths in the elevator. When you reached their floor, no one was around. A blessing, amid the mess.

As you rounded corner after corner, you checked Jimin's text to recall his room number.

When you came upon the correct door, you knocked. It was opened instantly, as if he’d been waiting by the entry for you.

He pitied the sight of you standing there, looking worn down. Suspicion of any wrongdoing on your account was impossible. He saw it all on your face, but he wanted an explanation nonetheless.

He pulled you inside, closed the door, and brought you into his arms, “Come here, baby.”

You settled in his embrace as you peered at the group behind him. To your relief, none of them looked upset with you, not even Namjoon.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “I was trying to tell you.”

His hand stroked your hair, “I know. It’s okay. Nothing is horribly wrong.”

The other members were shocked he could say such a thing. They all had cause to be very worried, but if he wasn’t going to panic, then neither would they.

When he released you, he checked your face to make sure you were calm. His lips pulled upward into a soft grin, putting aside any of his own worries for the sake of your mental state. You nodded at him, letting him know you were ready to talk about it.

Holding your hand, Jimin brought you into the suite. You exchanged subdued greetings with the others and decided to sit on the edge of the king-sized bed. Your partner sat beside you and handed you a bottle of water, in case you needed it.

“I, um, I guess I’ll just say what happened…” you cleared your throat, “At the airport yesterday, I got shoved in that swarm of fans and the woman standing behind me picked me up. It turned out to be Seoyeon. We sort of just went through TSA together and grabbed a coffee. Until Chaeyoung showed up and recognized her, I wasn’t certain it was really her. I know that you all rightfully have a negative view of her, but she was actually very kind to me. Our conversation ended when she realized that I worked for the company…and that I know you guys. It made her uncomfortable.”

“What did you guys talk about?” Jimin asked putting a soothing hand around your wrist, “I mean…did she mention anything or infer anything?”

“About you or BTS? Not specifically. She made a comment about the industry, though. She said it ‘wasn’t her scene’.”

Jungkook jeered at that, rolling his eyes, “Oh please.”

Your boyfriend scooted a little closer to you, swallowing up his pride, “I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific. What did you talk about?”

You closed your eyes, wanting to sink into the mattress beneath you, “Babies. We talked about babies. She’s pregnant as well.”

Jimin let go of your wrist. The room went stiff.

You sighed, looking down at your lap, “She married a CEO and was on her way to LA to see him. Nothing nefarious. She wasn’t following you guys or anything. I-I think it was all just a coincidence.”

The guys were waiting for Jimin to reply first.

“No,” he looked at you with all the assurance you needed, “I’m sure it was. If she’s married and starting a family, I highly doubt that she has the time or motivation to screw with us.”

Namjoon looked like he was biting his tongue.

Taehyung leaned against the wall with arms crossed over his chest, “That is, unless she could have had any indication that you two are together now.”

You gulped and looked at your boyfriend, “No, she couldn’t have. Your name never even came up. And we didn’t discuss BTS beyond a brief mention of the airport mob. When she realized who I worked for, she left. She had no interest in digging for more information.”

He sensed your nerves and put his arm around you, “Hey, it’s okay. I believe you. Management told me they will keep an eye out for any rumors, but they weren’t very concerned either. It appears we don’t need to worry about her, so we won’t. Just wanted to hear it from you, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi reinforced, glancing at Jimin before you, “Don’t sweat it.”

The leader of the group dipped his head, brows knitted together in a broadcast of regret.

You nodded, “Okay. Sorry to ruin your little celebration.”

“How did you know?” Jin chuckled.

“It’s no secret that you guys enjoy a some drinks after a shoot like this,” you broke into a grin, “Plus you all smell a bit like champagne.”

Most of them laughed at the comment. Jimin pecked your temple and you yawned. Now that your conscience was clear, sleepiness overtook you.

"Will you come to the dinner with us tomorrow, Y/N?" Hoseok questioned.

"Dinner?"

"Just a team dinner sort of thing. Us and all the staff that came along," Jungkook elaborated, "You should come."

You smiled, "Sounds fun, though I might need to have Chae take me shopping. This could be an excuse for me to finally go get some maternity clothes.”

“Your bump has gotten bigger.” Taehyung smirked.

The oldest member elbowed him, “Don’t say that! It’s rude.”

You laughed and put your hand on your belly, “But it’s true. I’ve grown out of almost every cute top I own. Once it gets cooler, I’m going to need new jeans as well. Ugh, just new everything.”

Hoseok broke into a tender laughter. Everyone looked confused.

Grinning curiously, Jimin asked him, "What, Hobi?"

"Sorry, it's nothing," his eyes were narrow in a glad squint, "I just can't believe you guys are really having a baby. Why does it suddenly feel so real now?"

Yours and Jimin's hearts were warmed.

"It's going to be fun," Jungkook concurred, his endearing bunny smile shining, "Chasing after a tiny version of one of us. Is it a boy or girl?"

"We aren't going to find out," your boyfriend smirked, "Care to make a wager? We each put in fifty-thousand won and then the winning side splits the pot."

Now you were in a playful mood and interjected, "It's a boy. I can feel it."

Jimin laughed and nudged you, "That's a lie. You said you didn't have a gut feeling."

You shrugged, "Well now I do."

"I still think it's a girl," he said before looking at all the members, "And my prediction is more legitimate. I felt it from the beginning."

"I say girl." Jungkook voiced.

"Girl." Jin nodded.

"Boy," Taehyung, "Gotta side with Y/N's maternal instincts."

"Nope," Hoseok chuckled, "Nothing against your instincts, Y/N, but Jimin's a girl dad."

Yoongi pondered it momentarily, "I honestly have no idea, but I'll go with boy, just to keep it interesting."

"If you must, but you're going to have to fork it over when you meet my daughter." Jimin taunted.

The father of the child placed his hand on your protruding abdomen. The gaiety on his face was raw and undeniable. He was happy - truly happy.

Namjoon took stock of this. Only then did it click. There was no way you could be like Seoyeon. She could never create that look on his face, nor could anyone else. Hana’s words replayed in his mind. She was right - you’d done nothing to indicate malevolence. That was the proof in itself.

He was disgusted with himself, so much that he couldn’t find any words to say. How could he even begin to apologize? Until this point, he had been the least supportive friend. He had gone out of his way to try to tear Jimin from a source of pure joy and love.

Wanting to be nice, you extended it to the one person you hadn't given his prediction. "Namjoon?"

Feeling apart from his own self, he stood slowly, “I’m…I’m going to go to bed. Long day, you know?”

There were no utterances of dismay. His cadence was downtrodden, not angry. This was not an act of protest - it was one of contrition.

For once, Jimin saw and believed the remorse, but he let him exit the room regardless. He found himself unable to forgive so easily. What he did was too far over the line.

After the door closed, you looked at all of them, "I think he's starting to come around, actually. Today he-"

"Don't mention that, please." Your boyfriend removed his hand from your bump and used it to sweep hair out of his face, tongue poking his cheek.

"Oh, you already know about what he said?"

"He told us," Jin sat down in his place, "Sorry about that."

"It's alright."

"It's the furthest thing from 'alright'," Jimin groaned with vexation, "The fact that he would go so far as to denigrate you like that to your face."

You put your hand on his back and rubbed it, "Well, it was awkward, but I didn't get the sense that he was purposefully trying to denigrate me. It felt like he was really just searching for answers, out of a place of care...for you."

"That’s no excuse.” he bit back.

You were plainly too tired to get into it. Your body craved rest, and you yawned once more. It forced your boyfriend back to a focus solely set on you.

“You guys should leave. We’re going to turn in.”

You flashed him a puzzled look, “Wait, no. I can’t sleep here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jin laughed lightly as he and the others began to head out, “Anything for your spooning time.”

Jimin chuckled, though his mood wasn’t necessarily jubilant.

You still objected, “Jimin, I really shouldn’t sleep here.”

He wore that gorgeous grin that no woman could refuse, “It’s no big deal, I promise. There are no other staff staying on this floor and you aren’t sharing a room with Chaeyoung. No one will notice.”

Jungkook tiffed, “Not to be weird, but if you were able to pull off spending that many nights at his apartment without being caught, I think you’re good.”

“Night, love birds.” Yoongi called before they all headed out the door.

As much as you didn’t want to risk getting caught, there was always a gravitational pull towards the solace that Jimin never failed to provide for you. You had a hard time saying no to his company.

In this large hotel room now with a population of two, you both took a moment to relax.

He then patted your knee twice and stood up, “You get comfortable, sweetheart. I’m going to clean up real quick.”

As he stood up, you caught the traces of lightness fade from his features. They were replaced with those of hurt, of confusion.

He walked into the bathroom and flicked the light on, closing the door behind him.

You sat there on the bed and listened to the sink run. It wasn’t lost on you that the news was jarring for him. You could only imagine how bizarre it was to have her in the loop of discussion. He’d told you before that she wasn’t someone he liked to talk about - there was a world of pain there that you didn’t know intimately.

He deserved to feel odd about all of this. It had to be okay for him to show a little disdain. He didn’t have to put on a show of strength for you all the time.

When he returned to the bedroom, there was the slightest furrow of his brows, as if he was in deep thought.

You shifted onto your knees, the fluffy white covers beneath you, hands in your lap, “Jimin, can we talk for a minute?”

“Hm?” he spun around, rubbing the back of his neck, “Oh, yeah. Sure.”

“You’re distraught. Is it Namjoon?”

“I mean, yeah, but not entirely. I’ve sort of gotten used to feeling this way about him, unfortunately.”

It was Seoyeon.

You tilted your head, eyes full of pity and concern, “I see…It’s alright for you to feel strange about all of this. I know it’s freaked you out a little.”

He sat on the other side of the bed, back facing you, “I’m not freaked out. I have all the faith that she won’t do anything stupid. It sounds funny, given the way things ended between us, but I know she wouldn’t stoop that low. Especially if she’s…you know.”

“Married and pregnant?”

He paused, revealing the true thorn in his side, “Yes…”

“Jimin, it’s normal to feel weird about an ex moving on. She broke up with you and then quickly got married and now she’s having a baby. It’s not easy to digest. And that’s okay.”

“It’s not even that,” he looked back at you over his shoulder, “It just pisses me off that she got what she wanted. She got her money, her high status. I sort of always took comfort that by ending it with me, she was cheating herself out of getting all of that. But she fucking got it in the end, and she doesn’t deserve it.”

You crawled across the bed to kneel behind him, and you began to rub his shoulders, “So she went and probably used this other guy. I agree that she doesn’t deserve it. But…if we spend time focusing on resenting her, then she gets another win. Personally, I don’t feel like handing another victory to someone who hurt the man I love.”

His shoulders dropped as he shook his head, “How is your heart this golden?”

“It’s not,” you sighed as you let go and scooted over to sit down next to him, “My heart has been tarnished. The fact that my parents won’t even speak to me has been devastating. Sometimes I feel so angry with them that I start to like the idea of never seeing them again. It’s horrible to say, but sometimes I think of our child never having a relationship with them, and I’m content. But then I realize how much power I give them when I do that.”

You began to get choked up, and it was evident by the break in your voice, “And people who would abandon their daughter don’t get to control.”

He put his hand on your knee and frowned, heartbroken for you, “Baby…”

You nodded, pulling it together, “And so, out of my resentment comes some kind of forced indifference. I just choose not to pay them mind, and I can move on. I don’t focus on what they deserve or don’t deserve. I just let the situation be, for the sake of my own peace.”

He kissed your cheek and then you let that same cheek rest on his shoulder.

“I love you,” he said, “You’re right. Letting it linger will only hurt me, not her. And you and our baby girl are far more worth the energy.”

You smiled, “You really are confident about the girl thing, huh?”

“Of course I am,” he chuckled, “I know everything.”

"Well, I know something you don't know."

Voice soft, he hummed, "Hm?"

"I felt movement today." you couldn't help but giggle the words out.

Jimin was instantly more alert. He hastily scooted further from you so he could turn to face you, eyes wide with wonderment, "You did?"

You nodded, "Just these tiny tapping sensations. The baby books are right. It feels like bubbles popping. Actually, it sort of tickled."

He threw his arms around you and laughed melodiously, which caused you to laugh harder. His joy was contagious to you. His embrace was so forceful that you fell back onto the bed together, though he was instinctively careful not to put his full weight on you.

He pulled away so he could lift his shirt from your abdomen and kiss right below your belly button. Then he cooed, "Good job, little one. Daddy's so proud of you for learning how to wiggle around in there."

You cupped your bump as you melted at his words, “Keep growing strong. We love you.”

*Three days later*

It was around eight at night when you heard the door unlatch from where you were standing, at the stove. A hot meal was in progress for you both, simmering in the pot in front of you.

You smiled when you heard him let out a breath of relief to finally be home. You had gotten in a few hours earlier - yours and Chaeyoung's departing flight left before the boys'.

Jimin, still in the entryway, slipped his shoes off and grinned, shaking his head, "Are you cooking?"

"I am." you called back.

He appeared around the corner in shorts and a white t-shirt, with one of his quintessential black bucket hats on his head. Appropriate attire for this scalding September heat.

He took off his hat and let it sit on the island, "Smells amazing."

Then you felt his arms wrap around your middle. As had become a habit, his palms laid flat against your belly.

You hummed as you stirred, "Hi."

"Hi," he smirked, "How are you?"

"Hungry. How are you?"

His low chuckle sounded right by your ear, "Starving. Thanks for doing this. I was prepared to just order something."

"Isn't it nice having me around?" you teased.

Jimin's lips landed behind your ear, "It's a dream having you around, sweetheart...Is this one of your new shirts, by the way?"

It was. Prior to that dinner in LA, you had convinced Chaeyoung to go to the mall with you. You ended up returning home with far more clothing than you brought, all accommodating to your changing shape. The top you were currently wearing was a simple fitted t-shirt in a pretty mocha brown. The material was comparable to that of a yoga top, all soft and stretchy.

"Mhm." you replied.

"I love it. I got so used to seeing you in all these loose tops. Well, my tops. Now I get to see my woman get all nice and big.”

Your mouth went agape as your face turned red, “What a perverted thing to say.”

He smirked into your neck as he kissed you again, “What you deem as perverse is actually just a common thought for any man. And don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

Then he gave your ass a playful slap and went to get himself a glass of water.

While he was at the fridge, you continued to stir, “When will you guys get to see the final cut of the music video?”

“Eh,” he said as he put his glass under the water dispenser, causing it to run, “Usually takes weeks, if not months. But this one doesn’t use as many CGI effects, so it might be faster.”

“What would you guys need CGI for? That theatre was stunning.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “I loved it. That was probably my favorite choreography we’ve ever done. And my favorite wardrobe.”

The uptick in his inflection made you break into a laugh, “You flatter me.”

“I mean it,” he gulped down some of the cold water, “It was extremely detailed and everything matched the feel of the song. Tell me, whose idea was it to put me and Jungkook in corsets?”

Again, you threw your head back and laughed, “That was Chae. But it was my idea to put you in the white suit.”

Jimin drew closer and leaned over the counter next to you, head propped up by his elbow as he watched you cook, “That was a brilliant choice, baby.”

Looking into the pot, you grinned with a feigned arrogance, “I’m aware. Here, taste this.”

You spooned up a sampling of the sauce and fed it to him. He smacked his lips together a couple times as he absorbed the flavor.

“Need anything?”

“Pinch more of salt.”

You nodded and took the salt shaker from the countertop on your right. You flipped it over and twisted to grind some of its contents into the pot. After giving it another stir, Jimin dipped his finger into the sauce and put it in his mouth.

“Mm,” he affirmed, “Perfect.”

The two of you ate together at the kitchen island. He got himself a bottle of soju from the fridge to take with dinner. When your plates were clean, he took the prerogative to do all the dishes.

“I’ll help you.” you said once he grabbed your plate.

“I’ve got it,” he replied assuredly, “Go shower or get in your pajamas or something.”

With that, he kissed your forehead and went to the sink, slinging one of the drying towels over his shoulder. To you, a warm shower sounded amazing.

You rose from the chair and paused, feeling a little lightheaded. It only lasted a couple of seconds, insignificant. Then you proceeded like normal out of the kitchen and into the bathroom for your rinse.

The water patting on your skin was a massage. You closed your eyes and simply let the droplets hit you for a few minutes, your head falling back. Breaths entered and then left your lungs slowly. It was all supposed to relax you, but instead your mind began to race. Your brain had time to spin, and the weight of it all pressed on your conscience.

You didn’t know when you’d speak to your parents again, or if.

You’d just come back from a successful weekend doing a job you truly loved, and your days working for the company were numbered.

The ex-girlfriend had reappeared.

Your pregnancy and relationship were causing a fracture in one of your boyfriend’s deepest friendships.

The most beautiful part of your life, your love with Jimin, was a like a glittering treasure kept hidden from the world, unable to blossom freely.

You were going to be a mother. A mother. A new person would be entering the world entirely dependent on you for survival and guidance. Ironically, this troubled you less than any of the other things.

You drew in a sharp, hitched breath, held it for a second, and blew it out.

*The next day*

“I just wanted to congratulate you on a successful trip. The producers applauded you and Chaeyoung with your punctuality and attention to detail.”

You were meeting with Sanghee, recapping the shoot.

“Thank you,” you nodded your head with a smile, “I’m so grateful you asked me to go.”

She was warmhearted, “Of course. You are one of the strongest on this team, Y/N. You’ve shown great promise in the time you’ve been here. It was about time you went on one of those trips. I’m sure there will be plenty more in your future. Plus, I wanted you to get a taste of what tour will be like.”

Your eyes got wider, as you hadn’t thought about that in a while, “Oh, right.”

She laughed, swiveling from side to side in her chair, “I know it feels like a long way off, but things move fast around here, as you’ve seen. While I’m at it, I wanted to plant the seed for you to begin thinking about how you’d like to allocate your time on the tour.”

You tilted your head to the side, “Sorry, I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Well, I know it would be extremely tough for you, being a new mom and all. You’d never be expected to be there for the first leg if you didn’t want to. I assumed you’d want to do short stints. But then again, I don’t know what your childcare plan looks like.”

“R-Right,” you sighed, “I will start thinking about all of that. Honestly, there’s a lot I need to work out still.”

Your boss laughed, “Yes, I can imagine. But please know we will be as flexible as we can. You’re valued here and we’d love for you to be there wherever you can make it work.”

It gave you some juice, to hear how wanted you were. A confidence booster was so needed at the moment.

“Thank you, Sanghee. That really means a lot to me.”

“Absolutely,” she crossed one leg over, before taking a sip of coffee from the self-heating mug on her desk, “So enough about work. How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing well,” your sigh was content this time as your hand glided over your new satin maternity blouse, “Started feeling little kicks. My blood pressure had been running a bit high, but other than that it’s good. I’m getting really excited to meet him or her.”

“Ah, my blood pressure was high too, when I was pregnant with my second. I was put on this one medication, I forget the name of it. But it saved me from going on bed rest.”

Your posture sank slightly, “My doctor warned me about bed rest, so I’m glad to hear there’s a medication for it that’s safe for pregnancy.”

Sanghee showed you a sympathetic grin, “Just keep drinking water and eat lots of yogurt. Avocados too, if you like them. They lower blood pressure.”

“I’ll give them a try.” you smirked.

“Good. Speaking of food, I’m heading out for lunch. There’s a new grill down the street that I’ve been dying to try. Care to join?”

Her praise and friendliness felt so good. You couldn’t help but want to please her by agreeing to tag along.

“Sure!”

Your boss stood from her chair and grabbed her large burgundy alligator skin purse, “Perfect. I know it’s hot out there, but are you okay to walk? I’m trying to get my steps in.”

You rose from your chair as well, “Yeah, that’s no…n-no problem…”

Your speech slowed as another wave of dizziness occupied your body. You blinked rapidly, trying to get a handle. There was a troubling lightness in your head. Your chest felt fuzzy.

“Y/N?” Sanghee walked around her desk and held your forearm.

You had a ten-mile stare. Your chest was rising and falling with depth as you wobbled. As your lids began to hang low, she took the initiative and forced you to sit back down in the chair.

Once sitting again, your wits returned. Embarrassed, you shook your head, “Sorry. I’m alright. Just kind of woozy. It’s been happening lately, mostly when I stand up.”

“Kind of woozy?” Sanghee laughed nervously, “You almost just passed out. Why don’t you head home for the rest of the day? Get some rest.”

“Oh, no I’m fine. I stood up too fast.”

“You just told me your blood pressure has been elevated. Now I’m not going to let one of my stylists pass out on my watch. Besides, there’s nothing super important going on today.”

You denied once more, “No really, I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

Sanghee put her warm hands on your shoulders and gave you a stern smile, “I know you’re okay. I just want you to be cautious. You’re probably running on fumes from traveling. Go home, crawl into bed, and get a long nap in. I will find Chaeyoung and have her fill in for you with any small tasks.”

Begrudgingly, you agreed. You got to your feet much slower this time and took it easy as you thanked her and headed back into your office to get your things.

You closed the door behind you and proceeded to put your laptop in your bag, pulling out your phone as you did so.

It wasn’t something you wanted to do, but he would want to be kept informed. You texted Jimin to call you when he got the chance. It would have been your first choice to call him, but you didn’t know what he was up to at the moment and wouldn’t want to disturb.

You flicked off the lights and headed home.

Chaeyoung was on her way to the upper floors of the building. She was trying to locate one of the Managers to turn in her expense report for the trip to LA for reimbursement. Sanghee caught her hopping in the elevator and informed her of your early departure from the office.

As a friend, she worried for you. And that worry remained written on her face when she reached the floor she needed. She pitied you for having to balance so much.

A lack of attention was paid to her direction. When rounding a corner, she bumped into Namjoon. It was a rare occurrence. His studio was nearby, but hardly anyone saw the man when he worked in there. He would come to work and lock in for hours, sometimes even the whole day.

“Oh I’m so sorry!” she squeezed her eyes shut, mortified.

Having known her for a while, Namjoon thought it appropriate to pat her on the shoulder with a lighthearted chuckle, “No problem. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she huffed, “Only a little concerned for Y/N. Sanghee just sent her home. Apparently she almost fainted.”

His disquiet was genuine. With furrowed brows and a tilted head, he pressed for more information, “Oh shit. Just now?”

“Yeah,” your colleague sighed, clutching the expense report to her chest, “I hope she’s alright. I do worry about her sometimes.”

Namjoon nodded with a hum, “No one wants her to get hurt. I’m sure she’ll rest up and be fine, though. Good to see you, Chae.”

He barely heard her reply when he walked away somewhat briskly. It didn’t matter what had been going on behind the scenes - he just had to let him know.

He’d be in the gym right about now, getting some quick strength training in. Probably with Jungkook at his side.

He hustled down the stairwell because he knew he’d run into less people that way. When he finally reached the gym, his prediction proved true. Joking around while getting some reps in were Jimin and Jungkook.

The two caught him out of the corners of their eyes when they noticed him hurrying over. He wasn’t dressed in workout attire either, so they figured he wasn’t here to join them. Not that Jimin wanted him to.

Namjoon was a bit breathless.

“Hey,” Jungkook nodded his head upward, “Distraught?”

“I don’t know,” he looked at Jimin, “Maybe. I just bumped into Chaeyoung.”

In your boyfriend’s mind, her name was linked with yours. This had something to do with you - the pit in his gut told him as much.

His face softened, shoulders slumped. His voice carried a desperation, “Don’t drag it out, please. Just tell me.”

“Everything’s fine, I think,” Namjoon said more quietly, “But Y/N’s been sent home. Chae said she almost passed out in the office. I don’t know…I remembered the blood pressure thing and thought you’d want to know.”

Jimin went into action mode.

All reservations towards him were put aside. They had to be. Jimin didn’t enjoy it, but he uttered the words, “Thanks for letting me know. I have to go check on her.”

Hastily, he picked his phone up from the black padded bench.

“Shit,” he sighed, “She asked me to call her. I’ll let you guys know if I’ll be back, but I’m not sure.”

“Hope she’s alright.” Jungkook said.

Namjoon concurred, “Do what you have to do.”

Jimin and Namjoon made eye contact before he began to jog out of the gym. He retrieved his keys from his pocket as he hurried out of the building and into the private covered garage. His footsteps echoed in the spacious concrete structure as he came upon his vehicle.

While climbing into the driver’s seat, he called you.

The ignition started as he waited over the course of several rings to hear your voice.

“Hey,” you greeted him, “Slight mishap.”

It was a relief that you sounded fairly normal through the phone. Even still, your partner needed to hear the story from you.

“I know,” he said, his phone connecting to his car so he could speak with you as he drove, “Namjoon told me. And Chaeyoung told him.”

“So Sanghee told Chae,” you sighed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t actually faint, though. I just sort of…came close.”

He drove out of the garage and turned onto the street, “I’m making my way home. You there?”

“Y-Yes but Jimin please don’t leave work. It’s really nothing.”

“I’ll see you in a little bit.”

Before long, he came home to you. He found you in the living room, laying on the couch with a tall glass of water on the coffee table. You had changed from your work clothes to loungewear, embracing getting comfortable in the middle of the day.

You were in a position for sleep, but your eyes were sullen and awake. Jimin closed the door and you cringed, feeling like an utter inconvenience.

His voice sounded like he was in a hurry as he strided into the living room, “Hey. Hey baby.”

He sat on the edge of the sofa, “Are you okay? Tell me what happened.”

You broke into a sad smile as you propped yourself up into more of a sitting posture, “I was trying to explain that I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine, Jimin. You really didn’t need to fly all the way home.”

“Of course I did,” he batted that ludicrous statement away, “Top priority.”

His hand reached over to cup your left cheek and you looked down, taking hold of his wrist, “I appreciate it, but all that happened was that I stood up too quickly and got dizzy. That’s all.”

He chuckled to keep the mood up, but he found this anything but funny, “I’m glad you were sent home. A brief dizzy spell is okay and probably normal, but in your case it’s a bigger deal, baby. You don’t want me to be concerned, but you know I’m right. We need to watch this closely, hm?”

You brought your eyes back to his and nodded wordlessly.

Jimin gave you a half grin, “And knowing you, I’d be willing to bet that this isn’t the first dizzy spell you’ve had recently.”

Subconsciously, your lips pursed together. It was as though you were tucking them in so they wouldn’t spill the truth.

It was the all the response he needed.

He scooted closer to you and sighed, removing his warm, veiny hand from your face and placing it on your blooming tummy, “You’re not hard to figure out. What other instances have there been?”

You closed your eyes as you admitted, “Yesterday after dinner. Same thing, I stood up and it just hit me.”

His eyes were anxious, maybe even slightly hurt, “I need to know about these things, Y/N. It’s my job to make sure you’re both safe and healthy, but I can’t do that if you don’t let me know. This…It worries me. And it equally disturbs me that you aren’t telling me about it.”

You let it out, “I know. I-I’m sorry. God, I hate it when you’re right.”

Jimin’s low chuckle rang out as he leaned forward, kissing your lips softly. Then he withdrew a few inches from your face.

“Oh my love...” his voice trailed off, “I thought you knew that you’re my life. That I will always, always put you first.”

Your tone was meek, “I do.”

He kissed the tip of your nose, “You don’t, if you think you’re burdening me.”

You felt totally deflated. He knew your soul, your entire being. There was no concealing anything from this man.

Half of you wanted to call him a jerk for stripping you bare of any excuses, while the other half wanted to melt into his arms for being such a blessing in your life.

Your eyes came to glisten with fresh tears, but not enough for any to fall. Your lips twitched into a smile, “A burden? Me? Never.”

Another laugh broke from Jimin as he returned to an upright posture , “That’s right, sweetheart. Can I get you anything? Did you eat lunch?”

“Not yet,” you replied, “I was hoping to nap before I ate, but I’m kind of hungry now.”

“I’ll make you something. You just relax.”

He got up and proceeded off into the kitchen. You heard him opening and closing the cupboards, looking for a culmination of ingredients, humming a tune as he went about it,

“Avocado toast and some berries?” He called back to you, “Or do you need something bigger?”

“That should be good,” you approved, “Oh, and could you mash the lumps out of the avocado? Lately I can’t stand the chunky texture. And maybe a little more lime juice? Oh, and some onion? And salt?”

Jimin smirked as he sliced the green fruit open, then grabbing a spoon to take out the pit, “So I’m making guacamole and putting it on bread. Got it.”

You laughed in return, “If you don’t mind.”

You spent the next several minutes searching for something to watch on Netflix. When your doting boyfriend came back with a plate to set down on the coffee table, you sat up more to make room for him.

“Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad to make my girlfriend and baby some nutritious food.”

You didn’t hesitate to bite into the toast smeared with a creamy green spread, “Actually, Sanghee told me she had high blood pressure when she was pregnant. She said avocados help lower it.”

“Even better.” he pushed your hair behind your ear so he could see your satiated expression.

You hummed with contentment as you swallowed, “And she also said there’s a medication for it. Doctor Yoon didn’t mention that to us.”

Jimin sat back and stretched his arms high, preparing to fully settle in with you, “That’s good. Maybe we’ll give her a call then, ask about it. At the very least, your OBGYN should know about these spells.”

“I will later.”

“Promise?”

You rolled your eyes in a genial manner, “I prom- Oh!”

The hand that wasn’t holding your toast flew to your belly. With a mouthful of food, you had to try to keep it all in, “Hi, little baby.”

Jimin beamed, scrambling to sit back up, “Is she kicking??”

You giggled and nodded as you caught the slip of the tongue. He really did seem to know in his heart that this precious new life was a daughter.

“Where? I want to feel.”

“Here,” you guided his hand to the spot where you could feel the flutters on the inside, “But you won’t feel it from the outside. I couldn’t.”

He pouted briefly before kissing the spot, “That’s okay. You just keep getting stronger in there, then Daddy can feel you cause a ruckus.”

With a giggle, you popped a few berries into your mouth, “I’m sure it will happen soon enough.”

Jimin reached across your lap to pick a blueberry off your plate. He put it on his thumb and flicked it up, craning his head back to catch it in his mouth before leaning back to his original spot.

His focus turned to the TV screen, “So what are we watching?”

You gave him your confused gaze, “Um, don’t you need to go back to work?”

“I can miss one dance practice,” he assured you, “And it’s been a while since I’ve had a day off. Don’t you want to sit here all day and be unproductive with me?”

You laughed, “I suppose I do. Though we could actually do something we’ve been meaning to do and start talking about what we want to name this munchkin.”

He mulled it over for a moment, unable to prevent his tight, half smirk from forming, “Hm…we could…Alright, why not? Do you have a girl or boy name you’ve always loved?”

As you finished your toast, you shrugged, “I have plenty of names I like, but for some reason none of them feel good enough now. Here, let’s look at the book Chaeyoung gave me. It should be on the side table next to you.”

“Ah,” he murmured as he stretched his arm behind him, “Got it. Okay, let’s see…Are we doing boy names or girl names first?”

*3 weeks later*

It took what seemed like forever to get everyone's schedules to align, but the group was finally getting together with all of the girlfriends. Originally, the plan was to go to Jin's place, but the guys were itching to see what your apartment looked like after the move.

You were in the middle of doing your makeup at your vanity, sitting on a comfy cream-colored pouf. Your guests would be arriving in a little over an hour, so time was of the essence.

Jimin entered the bedroom after prepping everything for dinner, taking off his shirt so he could shower fast.

“Everything’s chopped up and ready to go,” he said, “Kimchi is in the fridge too.”

“Got it, thank you.” you replied as you finished swiping mascara on your lashes, twisting the cap back on the tube.

He came over to peck you on the top of your head without a second thought, making you smile. When he turned around, he stripped the rest of his clothes. You watched his reflection in your vanity. The lighting in the room was perfect to show the contours of his body, all the parts where his frame would curve and then cave with muscle tone.

His natural dark hair was back, and it was getting long. It swept along the back of his neck, right above the crescent part of his moon phases tattoo.

He had gradually gotten leaner from all the stress. Nothing too concerning, since he was still eating and exercising a healthy amount, but it was noticeable to you. His jawline became sharper, and that was always a key tell when he was losing weight.

“I’m glad we’re doing this.” you said.

Surprising yourself, you weren't the slightest bit nervous. It was long overdue, and you could finally speak to women who were going through the same thing as you - dating a member of BTS in secret.

He glanced back at you, “So am I. I want you to be close to them. They're family."

"I completely agree..." you saw the perfect opportunity to bring up a still ongoing topic, "Which makes me wonder, where are you with Namjoon lately? I haven't seen him since the hotel in LA."

Jimin put his dirty clothes in the hamper and mumbled, "It's better."

"That's it? Just 'better'?"

He let out an irritated sigh, "Yeah. We haven't clashed in any way. And he's...actually sort of, well, been kind recently."

You smirked, "Those words taste like vinegar coming out of your mouth or something?"

He disappeared into the bathroom, "Yes, they do."

You closed your eyes and let out a breath, calling after him, "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset. But I'm relieved that you're starting to see what I meant that night when he left the hotel room. He was only ever trying to be a good friend to you, Jimin. And I think he's realizing that he was wrong. You should make amends."

You heard a tiff from him, “I’m not quite ready for that. Even though our relationship hasn’t been as rocky, he never formally apologized.”

“Must he come on bended knee to be forgiven?”

The shower turned on, making it more difficult to hear him, but what you thought you heard was, “Yeah. He does. He came after you and tried to label you a terrible person. He insulted me too, telling me that I think with my dick. He went out of his way time and time again to separate us by trying to make me question my love for you. It’s not something I’m just going to write off. He needs to apologize for all of it.”

“And would you forgive him if he did?”

There was no response - only water droplets pattering on the shower floor.

“…Jimin?” your tone was hesitant now.

He huffed, “Yeah?”

“Remember when we were talking about all the bitterness aimed at Seoyeon? How it would only hurt you to let your anger linger?”

You heard an ironic chuckle echo from the bathroom, “Are you going to tell me to forgive her too?”

“No,” you said, “I am asking you to forgive your brother. Don’t let this grudge last. It will only cause you pain in the end. And besides, unlike Seoyeon, Namjoon is a good person at his core. You know that. And deep down, I think you know he only wanted to protect you. You just said it yourself - you're family."

Once more, you didn't get a response. This time, you decided to drop it. There were things to be done to finish preparing for dinner.

About an hour later, Yoongi and Taehyung were the first to arrive. Jimin, in fresh clothes and a seemingly improved mood, let them in as you set the table for a party of eleven.

From the other room, you heard them enter and gasp.

"Damn," Taehyung laughed boisterously, "Color? In Jimin's apartment? This is insane."

"Yeah, for once it doesn't feel all cold and empty." Yoongi remarked with his famous monotone, "Guess you need to keep Y/N around."

You smiled with pride as you arranged the bowls and plates. The guys rounded the corner into the dining room and you greeted them warmly, “Hey guys!”

“Good to see you,” Taehyung smiled, “We love how you brightened up the place.”

You chuckled, “I was eavesdropping. Thanks.”

Jimin put his hands up in puzzlement, “Apparently I lived in a dungeon before you moved in.”

“Can we do anything to help?” asked Yoongi.

"No, but thank you," you said, "Go get comfortable. Have a drink, chat. I'm going to start cooking in a bit."

Your boyfriend put his arm around your waist and pointed to the bar area, at the other end of the dining room, "There's wine, whiskey, soju, beer, take whatever you want."

The two made their way over to the bar to fix themselves a drink. You looked at Jimin with confused eyes and leaned to the side to whisper to him, "Shouldn't you pour their drinks? You're hosting."

"They don't require the etiquette." he smirked down at you.

Then his hand traveled down to your ass. He squeezed it gently, making your posture straighten.

"But I required a moment to tell you how gorgeous you look," his raspy mutter filled your eardrums, "I really can't get enough of these new clothes, showing off my baby so well."

The man had balls, daring to flirt with you when you had so much else to do. You knew that snake-like, charming tone like no other. Well, if he wanted to toy with you tonight, then you'd play along.

You cocked a brow, "So complimentary, and you haven't even seen the full collection."

He hummed in your ear, "What else did you buy? Something just for me, sweetheart?"

Your cheeks flushed and you didn't want him to see it, so you removed yourself from him and strolled into the kitchen with nonchalance, "Bold of you to assume such a thing."

Jimin bit the inside of his cheek as he watched you leave his side. He loved how you could simply decide to throw his game right back in his face. This was the type of fun the two of you always had, from the very beginning. The push and pull, with a solid foundation underneath it.

Soon, everyone else trickled in. You were introduced to Hana, Yunhee, and Aejun. They were Namjoon’s, Hoseok’s, and Jin’s girlfriends respectively. You’d seen them around a few times, but weren’t supposed to know who they were, so you were never introduced.

All three were as kind as could be. Within moments of their arrival, they were helping you in the kitchen, giving the members their “guy time”.

Yunhee, lanky with hair dyed a strawberry blonde, was stirring the rice for you, “So tell us how it’s been, Y/N. I mean, we’ve all heard about you for a while now.”

You laughed it off - it was a question that warranted a thousand answers.

"Oh, I'm okay. A lot of it has been hard, but as far as we know we have a healthy baby on the way and we're excited."

"You look adorable!" gushed Aejun, a short, slightly curvier woman with these large, doe-like eyes, "How many weeks?"

"Almost twenty-four," you said while filling up a water pitcher for the table, "It's flying by, even though we've had some difficulty. Bumps in the road."

Hana's voice was gentler and compassionate. Her cadence reflected that of her boyfriend, "Look, we can all be friends. And we're all women here. You can be honest."

You smiled somewhat bashfully, and then it faded, "Alright, it's been more than bumps in the road. I've been so stressed lately that it's manifested into high blood pressure. I had to get on medication for it, which has been helping with the light-headed spells, but not the stress and I still...I just wish this could all feel more normal."

Yunhee gave you a sullen, sympathetic look, "We know exactly what you mean. It sucks, having to love someone and hide it all the time. It's a price all four of us pay to be with them."

Hana gave her some glasses to take over and put at each place setting. She left the kitchen momentarily.

The three women knew about the things you weren't sharing. They heard it from their boyfriends, who heard it from Jimin at one point or another. It was a mutual decision not to press you, especially during their first real encounter with you.

Aejun smirked, "Hey, we each get our return on investment, don't we?"

Hana's reaction of hitting her shoulder with a giggle confirmed that it was intended as a dirty joke. You laughed too.

Yunhee returned from the dining room, "Anything else I can take. Y/N?"

"No, you're good. Thanks so much for helping, guys."

"Of course!" Hana batted your praise away.

Yunhee added, "Also, before I forget, you should join us for our little dinner date. Once a week, we all grab dinner somewhere in the city just to hang out, let off steam."

"Oh yes, you should definitely come along," Aejun nodded, "It's been great for us to be around people who understand, you know? You're in this little circle now, so it's essentially mandatory."

Her humor was dry, like Jin's.

You giggled, "I'd love to."

In the other room, the guys could hear your muffled laughter. Jimin kept glancing back in the direction of the kitchen with a grin, relieved that you seemed to be hitting it off. To hear your beautiful giggle ring out with other women was like a gift to him. Perhaps new friendships could help ease this entire situation for you.

“Guess they’re best friends now.” Hoseok chuckled before nursing from the rocks glass in his hand.

“That’s no bad thing,” your boyfriend sighed happily, letting his head rest fully on the back of the couch, “This has been a missing piece for Y/N since we got together.”

“Imagine ten years into the future,” Jim said, “We all have wives and kids running around, and we do things like this where we get together. The women cook the dinner and we do the dishes after, while our kids play hide and seek or something.”

“Jesus, Jin,” Yoongi looked somewhat terrified, “Getting ahead of ourselves there, aren’t we? Half of us aren’t even seeing anyone.”

“What? I like the sentiment.” he defended the picture.”

Jimin’s soft grin appeared as he envisioned the same thing, moving his hand in a small circle to swirl the drink in his glass, “No, I like it too.”

Taehyung was sitting next to him and gave him a nudge, glancing to the side to make sure none of the ladies heard him. He lowered his volume, “And speaking of wives, do we hear wedding bells for you and Y/N anytime soon?”

He wasn’t expecting to be asked that question, but it was a natural one to ask. Not that he was bothered by it.

With a cheeky grin, Jimin clinked their glasses together.

He closed the door behind them on their way out. When it was just the two of you again, you both looked at one another and laughed a little.

You put your hands on your cheeks, “Oh my gosh, my face aches from smiling so much.”

“Mine too,” he said, “Sorry about the drinking at the end. I hope you didn’t feel left out.”

You started back into the living room, “Not at all. I think you guys are hilarious when you drink.”

He followed you, “We will have to do that again. I think you’ll have Jungkook crawling back for your bulgogi alone.”

You smirked, bending over the coffee table to pick up stray glasses, “I will cook for them anytime.”

“Must we do more dishes?” Jimin pouted.

You could decipher by his inflection that he was feeling a little buzzed.

“Yes,” you laughed, handing him a few, “Otherwise we will have to do them in the morning, and I hate doing that.”

You each had four glasses to carry into the kitchen. You put them all next to the sink and began to hand wash them. They could have been put in the dishwasher, but you were more particular with glassware. You liked to make sure they came out looking perfectly clean and shiny.

At this stage in gestation, you were unable to lean over the sink like you used to. Your belly met the edge of the counter, so you needed to perform the task with your arms stretched further.

Jimin rested his chin on your shoulder, “You don’t look comfortable doing that.”

“Then you take my place.” you laughed, turning your head his way.

He kissed your cheek, “I’d rather not.”

Then his lips found the sensitive bit of skin, where the corner of your jaw met your neck. You felt an eager pit form in your stomach and tilted your head slightly, giving him just a tiny bit more access.

“And what would you rather do?”

“I’d rather see the rest of the collection.”

You giggled, “You’re still hung up on that from earlier?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re assuming it’s lingerie?”

“I’m not assuming,” his voice was like honey, “I know it is. Let me see what you picked out for me, baby. Dishes can wait.”

He brought his pelvis further into you, so you could feel him stiffening. He kept kissing your neck, his hands wrapping around your growing middle.

“You wanna know what I read the other day?” he asked with a rasp, “A great way to reduce stress is to orgasm.”

You finally set the glass down at the bottom of the sink, “You’re really trying everything to get into my pants, aren’t you?”

He chuckled in the manner he knew would do you in, “Keep acting like you aren’t desperate to take a load of my cum. Like you don’t want me to make you squirm.”

You pushed the envelope even further, your body heating up, “You’re just tipsy and horny.”

Jimin took control of your hips, moving them side to side against his bulging crotch, “I’m offering you a reward, sweetheart.”

“A reward?”

“For being the perfect hostess tonight. For making me a baby. For being the love of my life.”

The love of his life.

He’d never called you that before. Maybe he was just under the influence, but it had you overflowing with love and desire.

“Well then,” you turned around with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I guess I should go get changed.”

He laughed, “I knew it was lingerie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you kissed him deeply, “You got me all figured out.”

He ended up sitting on the bed, waiting for you to appear from the bathroom in whatever racy little thing you had prepared.

The door opened slowly, revealing you in a cherry red babydoll. The whole thing was lace with a matching thong underneath. The fabric split like a curtain around your belly.

Jimin looked like he wanted to devour you, eyes dark with ardor, pupils blown out.

Your voice was soft and sultry, “Do you like it?”

“Come sit,” he leaned back, “Let me see you up close.”

You padded over to him and lifted one leg after the other, straddling him. Your bump grazed against his torso. Jimin let out a hum that sounded more like a growl as he caressed your thighs.

"Look at that," he whispered, playing with the delicate lace between his fingers as he kissed your breasts, "All dressed up for me. All mine,"

He was bulging, but not fully hard yet. You reinforced yourself by putting your hands on his knees, slowly gliding your hips forward, back, and forward again. You wanted to make him weak.

"Yeah baby," Jimin cupped your ass and squeezed, "Get my cock nice and hard."

You released a soft moan, the friction exciting your bud. The sound of your pleasure accomplished your goal.

“You get to choose how you get fucked tonight.” he smirked, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear so he could press his lips to yours.

You giggled into the kiss, “Is that my reward?”

“One of them,” he said, “You get three.”

“What are the other two?”

“Getting to cum, and receiving mine.”

You moaned into another passionate kiss before whispering exactly what you wanted.

It wasn’t what he was expecting to hear, but it delighted him nonetheless. Before going any further, his eyes softened, taking him out of the blinding lust for a moment, “Are you sure that won’t be too much for you?”

You resumed grinding your hips back and forth against his member, “I couldn’t be more sure…Daddy.”

And he was back, eyes filled with fervor. He spanked you, played with your ass cheeks in his hands, “You want to ride Daddy’s cock, baby? Show Daddy what you can do.”

You smirked as you got off his lap for a moment, giving him time to remove his bottoms. He scooted over to the head of the bed, laying flat on his back. He may have had the dominant nickname, but you were going to make him desperate one way or another.

You crawled back onto the bed seductively, “Should I get naked too, Daddy?”

“No, let me marvel at you in this for a while longer,” he said, cock straight in the air with precum leaking from the reddened tip, “I fucking love how it shows off your belly.”

His pregnancy kink was going to be the death of him. You chose to exploit that.

“Yeah, Daddy?” you swung your leg back over his frame, sitting on his cock but not granting him access just yet, “How does it look this way?”

He let out an exasperated, charged breath, hands on either side of your bump, “You look divine, sweetheart. So beautiful for me, making my child.”

You moved your hips on him again, letting him feel the magnitude of your wetness. It swayed the power back to him.

“Look at you, dripping all over Daddy’s cock.”

You pushed the g-string to the side. In one go, you lifted your hips, positioned him, and sat fully back down. He filled you to the hilt, both of you letting out moans.

You began to bounce up and down the shaft, setting a steady rhythm. Even better, your clit rubbed against his base each time you went down, delivering the perfect amount of pressure.

He looked like a dream beneath you, chin tilted up towards the ceiling with his plump lips parted, releasing low grunts. His brows were scrunched down as he searched to find the resolve not to ram up into you. His veiny hands were gripping your ass so hard you thought you might bruise.

Jimin’s siren eyes bore the sight of you from an angle so deliciously erotic - the woman he loved, round with his child, riding his cock. Your breasts bobbing up and down.

“Shit,” he groaned, “So fucking hot, baby. Tell me how it feels.”

“S-So good, Daddy,” you mewled, “I wanna go faster.”

“You can go faster, sweetheart,” he gave your ass a slap, “Make yourself feel good. Show Daddy how hard you can cum.”

As you picked up your pace, Jimin devoted his fingers to the service of your femininity, rubbing you.

You whined and put one hand on his chest. Knowing he’d go crazy for it, you dug your nails in and scratched down his sternum. He threw his head back and inhaled a hiss.

“Ah, fuck!”

You wore a smirk amid the building pleasure, “Sorry, did that hurt?”

“Play nice, baby. Or I’ll bend you over and fuck your brains ou- Shit!”

Your pace sped up even more, your cunt enveloping him repeatedly. His tip was kissing your cervix.

“What were you saying, Daddy?” you panted.

Jimin gritted his teeth, “You’re fucking enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” you mewled, “I’m enjoying my reward.”

He unleashed a frustrated groan, “Good, because it’s the last time I’m giving you one.”

You half laughed, half moaned. He hadn’t stopped rubbing your clit, delivering wave after wave, coating his dick in more of your arousal. The sound produced was lewd.

“Jimin…”

He knew you were getting close, “Come on, baby. Let me see you make a mess all over my cock.”

“N-No,” you whimpered, “I don’t want to cum yet.”

He smirked, and removed his hand from your clit, “As you wish.”

Without warning, he grabbed your wrists and pulled you forward, freeing his hips to thrust up into you. He bucked up into your confines with a battering speed.

You lost any trace of superiority. All dominance fell to him in an instant. Now you were in purgatory, feeling a euphoric sensation without that bundle in your stomach.

“My turn, baby," he taunted, "Just stay still like a good girl and take it. Fuck. Such a tight little cunt. Makes me wanna fill you with more of my babies."

The thought had you moaning in a way that made you grateful the walls were completely soundproof. He was rutting into you from below, his trained, flexible dancer hips being put to good use. With every thrust, your body was shuffled forward, your lace-covered breasts dangling over his face.

"You're such a perfect mother, sweetheart. Already making milk to feed our baby. Shit, I'm getting close."

You took advantage of this short moment of weakness to sit upright, back to your original position. Jimin tried to keep pounding into you out of his own volition, but it was to no avail. The shift made it impossible to move the way he wanted to.

He huffed, "Baby, move. Please.”

Amidst your panting, a soft grin grew on your face, "I always get to cum first, though.”

“Fuck,” he breathed in sexual frustration and rapture, “You want my fingers again? Can you handle Daddy’s fingers this time?”

You nodded eagerly, “I can handle it.”

Jimin flashed you an arrogant grin after biting the inside of his cheek, “You want to cum, then start riding me again, baby.”

“Fine, but you can’t move your hips this time,” your fingertips gently traced the red scratch marks on his chest, “You have to leave it all to me.”

He opened his mouth to say something smart - you could tell by what his eyes carried. To shut him up, you bounced on him once, making him moan loudly.

Seeking revenge, he began to rub your clit again, coating his fingers in a slick of your juices and his precum. Your head dipped back as he brought you closer to the stars, resuming a steady pace on his cock.

“Act tough all you want, baby,” he grunted, “You’ll always melt under my touch like this. Don’t ever forget who you belong to.”

The pleasure was too great for your pride to care. You mewled out for him, “Faster!”

The circles on your bud became rapid. You moaned every time you sank back down on his member, chasing your orgasm until you snapped a few seconds later.

You clenched and spasmed around him, halting your movements as you were jolted with a love-made current. Jimin let you ride it out, enthralled by the sight of you experiencing the height.

When you came down, you opened your eyes and put one hand on his chest, the other back on his thigh. Pushing your afterglow aside for now, you wanted to make him come undone like it was the first time.

Stabilizing yourself, you rode him as hard as you could. Jimin didn’t expect it. Your orgasms usually took so much energy from you. You bounced mercilessly.

His eyes drained of any cheekiness. He was fully under your control one last time, entranced by the way his cock was repeatedly disappearing into your warmth. He was totally at your whim, hands cupping your ass and feeling it jiggle slightly with every contact between your cunt and his base.

He moaned in a way you rarely heard.

“Y/N!”

Not yet satisfied, you pushed the envelope even further, “Are you gonna give me a nice big load, Daddy?”

“Yeah,” his cheeks were tinged pink at this point, “Gonna spill my seed into you, baby. Fuck, keep going.”

Thighs starting to exhaust themselves, you kept it up.

“Right there, baby…Right there…Fuck, keep doing that. I’m cumming.”

His semen flooded into you, a throaty groan escaping his lips. His neck craned back into the pillow as his hips and legs jerked, an uncontrollable mechanism as his balls emptied.

“God, baby….”

As both of you labored to breathe, gravity caused his white material to begin leaking out of you almost immediately, coating both of you in it.

You smiled through your panting, relaxing, “Thank you for my reward.”

A low chuckle rumbled through him, “You’re something else. Fuck, I’m so tired now.”

“Me too,” you giggled, “Though I think I might be stuck here.”

You were only half kidding. It took more effort than you were used to in order to hoist yourself off him. Your hips were aching, but the walk to the bathroom helped them readjust.

Your spent boyfriend followed you, hair matted and messed up on the back of his head.

His forearm was pressed against the door frame and he leaned on it, watching you tidy yourself up, “Can you wear that again soon?”

“I can…” you ran a brush through your hair, “If you’d rather not see the other things I bought.”

Jimin raised a brow as he made the few paces over to you, “Oh, there’s more?”

His lips started attacking your collarbone, forcing a squeal from you.

When both of you had cleaned up, you crawled into bed. As was the norm for him, especially now, he rolled over to spoon you. He said it helped him sleep, knowing his love and his child were safe in his arms.

“Goodnight.” you yawned.

“Night,” he lazily kissed your hair, “I love you. So so much.”

“I love you too, Jimin.”

*The next day*

He was awake at seven in the morning, stirred out of his sleep by the continuous buzzing on his phone.

Eyes hardly able to open, he reached to his nightstand and tapped the screen, revealing a steady stream of new messages popping up.

It was his group chat with the members, blowing up in a panic. At first, none of the texts made sense:

“How could she do this?”

“This is going to be a nightmare.”

“Jimin, are you okay?”

“Let us know what we can do for you guys.”

He scrolled up to the beginning of the conversation, which made his heart stop. It was a link to an article, with a thumbnail that pierced his soul with a burning fury.

This couldn’t be happening.

His head felt fuzzy, vision not yet fully adjusted. His nerves skyrocketed as he left the bed, still being mindful not to wake you. Once he left the bedroom, he allowed his body to move more according to his emotions - frantically.

He was moving about the living room and dining room, pacing yet feeling frozen.

Then he had an incoming call. Oddly, the contact name didn’t perturb him. In a crisis, this was the name he trusted, even after everything that had happened between them.

“Namjoon,” he answered, voice hoarse and panicked, “What the fuck is that? Is it real?”

“Did you click on the link?”

“No,” he replied, running a nervous hand through his hair, “I-I don’t think I want to. Just tell me if that’s a real article.”

The other end was silent for a moment. He could hear Namjoon take a deep breath, “It’s real. I’m so sorry.”

Jimin felt like he could have died. He wanted to rip up the flooring and crawl underneath it, encasing him from the world.

“Holy shit…” he felt detached from everything, “Fuck, what do we do? What do I do? Y/N can't see this."

"She's going to," he said with all the sympathy in the world, "You can't keep it from her."

"No, no...I...I don't understand. I don't- fuck! Why?! Who did this?! Was it her?!"

"No one knows," Namjoon kept his tone even, "But we will figure it out, alright?"

His tongue dripped poison, "I swear to fucking God, if she's behind this, I'll-"

"Jimin?..." your voice was quiet as you emerged from the bedroom. He'd woken you up, having not fully shut the door when he left your side moments prior. You were tying your white fluffy robe around your center, eyes squinting slightly.

He looked at you like a deer in headlights, "I'll call you back, hyung."

He hung up, tossing his phone onto the couch.

You were becoming more alarmed by the second, watching your boyfriend self-soothe gliding his hands over his face and into his hair.

"What's going on?"

"Come sit," he said, "We have a situation."

Your gut twisted as you slowly went to sit down beside him. Jimin took your hands, angling his body to face you directly. He brought your cold hands up to his lips, kissing them.

"I need you to know that I love you," his morning voice was unstable, "I love you a-and we will be okay. We can get through anything together."

You turned your head a little, concerned eyes never leaving his, "You're scaring me..."

He held your hands firmly and set them on his lap, "There's an article. A big one, from a big publication. About the baby...but they think it's me and Seoyeon. They think I'm her baby's father."

[paperclip-skz]

I think I Fell in Love

A continuation of Deep Talk

fem*Reader x Changbin

*WARNING*

WC: 2.6

Contains: oral (F receiving), over-clothes stimulation, fingering, teasing, unprotected sex (don't), rough dom, nicknames; I'm sure I missed something

Deep Talk

Two days had passed—two restless days since you had seen Changbin.  

You both didn’t sleep together after that night. You both got really close, but something in him snapped and he stopped before things progressed any further. Even though you desperately wanted him, you respected that he wanted to wait, and he left only a few moments after the fact. 

You tried texting, calling, and even reaching out to his flatmate just to make sure he was okay. You both never went a day without at least texting each other a few times; it felt strange, almost like he was ignoring you.

The pang in your heart felt like a bat against glass. You hated the thought that he might regret a single moment of what you two shared. Maybe you went too fast, or he didn’t feel the same, or he realized something about you that made him turn away, and your head spun. 

You walk into work on a glorious Monday. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, but you are the very essence of doom and gloom. You nod at your coworkers as you make your way to your desk when a friend stops you in your tracks. It’s the new intern—what was his name? Jinnie? Hyunjie?

“Hey, Y/N!” he says with a smile that reaches his eyes. He’s quite pretty, you think, his buzz-cut blonde hair shining in the light.

“Hey… you,” you respond with a smile.

“Hyunjin,” he says with a knowing smile. He’s only been around for a week. You sigh with an apologetic relief. “There’s something on your desk,” he winks.

Your brows furrow in curiosity. What could it be? With quick steps, you make your way over to your little desk and see something that makes your breath hitch.

Right next to your computer, glimmering in the light and brightening your entire cramped space, is a small vase of bright white calla lilies—your favorite. In front of it sits a small note.

I can't stop thinking about what happened, I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to apologize for how I acted, in person. How about dinner at my place tonight at 7? I want to make it up to you—just the two of us.

You could almost hear him whispering those tantalizing words, his voice wrapping around your ears like a warm embrace. The note. The flowers. It all made your heart swell, and the ping of anticipation made your whole body come alive. You couldn’t wait for dinner. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was coming at seven. She had to be. You wouldn’t stand him up…right? 

His head snapped to the door, the sound slicing through the ambient noise of sizzling meat and crackling flames on the grill. That little knock, soft yet distinct, was one he recognized instantly, and it sent a jolt of electricity through him. Eagerly, he strode to the door, the aroma of spices mingling with the rich, savory scent of the meat wafting through the air, teasing his senses.

As he opened the door, a broad smile spread across his face, radiating warmth and welcome. But the instant his eyes landed on you, that smile faltered, replaced by a look of awe. You were stunning, a vision in his favorite dress—one he had lovingly helped you choose. 

He couldn’t shake the memory of you stepping out of the dressing room, a nervous excitement dancing in your eyes. The deep, luxurious red velvet clung to your figure, wrapping itself around your waist in the most flattering way, making your curves all the more enchanting. The skirt flared gracefully just above your knees, giving it a playful bounce with each movement. 

The dress sparkled under the soft light as if it had been kissed by the stars, while the delicate pink roses woven throughout the fabric added an element of charm; they danced along the hem and brought an air of innocence with the dress’s alluring design. As he stood there, captivated, his heart raced, and he felt a wave of admiration wash over him. You looked like a dream, the kind of dream he never wanted to wake from. Yet, despite the overwhelming urge to express how breathtaking you were, he kept those words locked away, choosing instead to let his eyes convey the depth of his wonder.

He could sense you getting nervous from his stare; he had to say something, do something. “Um-” he stuttered, his palms becoming oddly sweaty. “You look” he gestured to the dress, but all he could let out was a sigh and a small smile. 

“I look?” he nodded to the dress.

“Breathtaking” Suddenly, the memory of your lips against his came rushing back his hands clenched at his sides; he could still feel how your tongue swirled around his cock like you were devouring him; he itched to touch you. Not yet, not yet, he chanted to himself. 

You smiled, a blush that couldn’t be hidden by make-up adorned your cheeks. He stepped aside to let you in. 

You stepped into his apartment, smelling the irresistible smell of cooking meat. “My god, that smells amazing,” you groaned, and Changbin had to physically stop himself from moaning. He wanted to make you groan again. He wanted to make you moan…

“Have a seat, I’ll serve you a plate,” he said. 

And he did just. You both ate and talked about each other's day, not yet venturing into the topic you both were dying to discuss. He didn’t want to ruin the moment just yet; he wanted to hear your laugh. 

He waited as long as he could until he got up to take your dirty plates away. The laughter in the room was draining. “Bin,” you say. Your voice soft. “Can we talk about the other night?” 

His smile faded, and his shoulders slumped. He nodded as he set the plates in the sink. Then, he rounded the corner, leaning his back against the counter to steady himself and look you in the eye. 

You looked so hurt. So worried about what he was going to do. “I’m sorry I ran out the other night. I should’ve stayed. I should’ve-”

“Not if you were uncomfortable. I won’t be mad at you for not wanting to sleep with me. That’s okay. I just want to know why?” 

Your words leave him breathless. Thats what you're worried about? Him not wanting to have sex with you? That’s what had your mind spinning? My god, he royally fucked up. “No, no, no. thats not- shit” he rakes his hand through his hair. 

You step out of your chair, making the move to comfort him, reaching out a hand. You touch his shoulders, trying anything to ease his stress. Your touch is so soft and gentle. This isn’t right; he’ll ruin you. 

“What's wrong? Talk to me, Binnie, please,” you're begging. My god, you're begging him. He’s going to lose the last bit of control he has. 

“It's not that I didn’t want to have sex with you. You don’t know how badly I want to take you to my bedroom right now and show you just how badly I want to fuck you into next week.” he pauses, and your eyes go wide. “But,” he holds your shoulders, “You're the one girl I’ve always wanted to do right by; I didn’t want to take you to bed without a proper date and ask you the proper question first. It was bad enough I took advantage of you that night; I didn’t- I didn’t want it just to end. I didn’t want to lose you.” 

His chest heaves with each breath. It's out. Everything he wanted to say, you know now. But you don’t say anything; you stare at him like he’s growing another head. He’s shrinking under your stare. " Say something,” he demands. 

Your mouth moves to say something, but nothing but a sigh leaves your lips. “I knew it.” his eyes bruns with the threat of tears. “I knew you wouldn’t feel the same.” 

His head hurts. He’s holding all his strength so tears don’t fall, and his whole body aches to be held. He’s so engrossed by his dooming thoughts that he doesn’t see the surprise on your face or how your eyes go wide with the realization that he’s shutting down. 

Suddenly, you grab hold of his face with both hands and slam your lips against his. Both of you pour every bit of emotion into that kiss. Your lips move along one another, saying a hidden sentence. Changbin holds the back of your head, deepening the kiss, demanding entrance past the barrier of your lips. 

Changbin takes complete control, gripping you like you might vanish before him. You swing your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. You pull away for a breath, staring in Changbin’s eyes, tears glassing over your vision. “I’ve loved you from the day I met you. That night you kissed me was the best night of my life. I never wanted it to end.” 

His piercing gaze travels from your eyes to your lips, sweeping over your entire face as if he had just experienced a surge of adrenaline. Your smile—the one that lights up the room—makes his heart shatter into a million blissful fragments. It’s that radiant smile that he treasures above all else, a beacon of joy in his life. Your eyes twinkle like stars caught in a clear night sky, and the intoxicating scent that clings to you drives him to the brink of madness, awakening a whirlwind of desire within him, but he could watch you smile all day and not complain. He would watch you smile because you didn’t want this end, this want’ going to end. He was going to keep that smile on your face for as long as he could draw a single breath.

He kisses you one more time, wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you around in his hold. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. “Then why don’t we pick up where we left off, hm?” he smirks. 

…..

Heat bubbles in the pit of your stomach, twisting a turning, a sheer excitement that you can’t ignore. Changbin carried you all the way to his bed, the dirty dishes forgotten. 

With a gentle fall, he threw you onto the bed. Your arms flying above your head. Your dress rode higher on your thighs, exposing a sheer piece of lacy fabric between your legs. You could visibility see Changbins eyes darken. 

“I want you laid out like my own personal feast,” he growled. Then he pounced. He braced himself on either side of you, ravishing your lips, then your neck, leaving love bites in his wake. Your hands flew to anything you could grab: his hair, his arms, his waist, desperately trying to cling to him in any way. 

Changbin’s kisses trail lower and lower until he kisses the inside of your thigh. He lifts the skirt of your dress, revealing the lacy material you wore just for him. He kisses the fabric, the light touch making your whole body shiver. “Binnie”, you moan, itching to touch him.

“Shh, shh, let me take care of my pretty girl,” he says, his hot breath making you clench. His words didn’t go unnoticed. The idea that you were now “his girl,” that you are his and he is yours, made your whole body sing with a new desire. 

Changbin hooks his fingers around the apex of the fabric, pulling it to the side to reveal your soaking sex. The first lick of Changbin’s tongue sent you reeling, feeling the burning firelight. He moaned in approval as he saw your body arch in pleasure. His hands slid to your thighs and then to your waist, pinning you in place. Your hands searched for anything to grab hold of; they started in his hair, pulling him closer to you as his tongue plunged deeper inside you; then they searched for the edge of the bed to grip the edge of the world that you were very near to falling off of. 

He licked and kissed, alternating between your folds, your clit, and the inside of your walls. The noises you let out were pure animalistic, and he showed his undying approval with a sheer determination to send you barreling over the edge. 

His fingers joined in, moving in tandem with his tongue. He kept a consistent motion, his tongue twirling your bud like he was playing with candy while his fingers pumped inside. It was all too much. Your whole body caved in on itself as you felt your climax shudder through you. 

“Bin,” you rasped. 

You needed him. Now. 

He stood up from the edge of the bed, your body panting along with his breaths. “Your mine” he whispered to himself, but your whole body scattered in goosebumps, and that burning desire returned to the pit of your stomach. 

Without delay, you hurriedly pulled the dress over your head and threw it across the room to a neglected corner. Meanwhile, Changbin began unbuttoning his pants and tossed his shirt off. Your mouth went dry at the sight of him. Broad shoulders with defined muscled arms. Thighs so strong it was no wonder he could pick you up so easily, and the prominent length between those thighs…..you wanted him. You needed him. You didn’t care if it was up against a wall or on the kitchen counter; you needed him. 

He collapsed on top of you, bracing himself and crashing his lips to yours. The kiss, open and passionate, a mix of teeth and tongues in a beautiful symphony. You locked your legs around his waist,t pulling him closer. You hiss as his tip slid against your sensitive bud. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers which sends chills against your bones. He nudged at your entrance and finally slid in…and in….and in. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and thoughts and words died before they could form. He started slow, deliberate, delicate. You clawed at his back until you were sure marks would appear in the morning. His face contorted into a mix of pain and pleasure; he was holding back, and you knew it. “Please, Bin,” you begged. 

“Say it,” he pleaded. You knew what he meant. 

“I’m yours,” you said, gripping his bicep and moving your hips in tandem with his thrusts. “I’m yours,” you repeated. Again, he pulled out only to connect with your hips. Again. Again. “I’m yours,” you moaned loudly as his thrusts were faster, deeper. 

“You're mine. And I’m yours,” he whispered against your ear. Release ripped through your body with one final thrust, shaking your entire beginning. Changbin groaned as he felt you clench around his length, and then you felt him twitch inside you. 

…..

The soft morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow on the disheveled sheets that tangled around you both. The world outside felt distant, fading into a gentle background hum. The only sounds in the room were the rhythmic breath you shared and the occasional soft sigh that slipped from your lips.

With a tender touch, Changbin brushed a wayward strand of hair from your forehead, his fingers lingering against your skin for just a moment longer. His gaze was earnest, filled with something that made your heart flutter and your stomach twists with anticipation. “I think I fell in love with you,” he confessed softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You met his penetrating gaze, feeling a rush of warmth flood through you. “I think I fell in love with you, too.”

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Director's Commentary:

First of all, THIS HIT 200 NOTES IN LESS THAN 2 DAYS????? 🥺💝🥺💝🥺💝🥺💝 Thank you SO MUCH EVERYBODY, I have never had any of my self ship art get this many notes this quickly!! I've also screenshotted every tag I've gotten and will continue to do so! Thank you so much everyone 🥺💖🥺💖🥺💖🥺💖

Second, I hope that everyone knows I did this 100% original! I have actually had more than one person call this an edit, which makes me very proud of how convincing this apparently is as an imitation of the PPG style! 🥺 But no, I did all of this by hand myself! The screenshots were just referenced :D

Y'all should also know that I don't have any type of tablet or way to do digital art with a pen, I use Adobe Illustrator and only use my mouse. For the first image I did a sketch of the pose on paper and traced over digitally, but I'm proud to say for the other two I did it entirely originally using just reference images and my own imagination! That's something I'm usually not really able to do so I'm very happy that the final result came out so good

The context of the original scene is that Ms. Keane and Professor Utonium just went on a failed date that was set up by the girls, but ended up sharing a little moment after Ms. Keane accidentally tripped and the Professor ended up catching her. I'd like to think the context here is essentially the same, but I'd consider it an AU scenario because there wouldn't be a time in my ship canon where this setup would happen before Cherry and Mojo are dating.

I came up with Cherry's outfit kind of on the spot, it's basically just a fancy version of their normal outfit, with a low cut white shirt, yellow and orange cardigan, and some nice tan boots. They borrowed the choker with the pendant from their cousin, Ms. Bellum :3

I find it funny to think that Mojo wouldn't really wear an actual outfit out on a date, because in his mind, what fit could possibly be better than the villain outfit he designed for himself? He just put on a bowtie to be slightly more fancy 💖 That's actually a reference to the panel below from a DC PPG comic where he's trying to find a date for Valentine's Day and failing... I would have been there for him 🥺

Also I liked the idea of the moon being bright enough to shine through the back of Mojo's big ears, which is why the shading on them if a bit oddly shaped. No one has mentioned anything about that yet so I'm not sure how obvious that came across 😅

Ngl I struggled a bit on the background of Mojo's panel just because it's a unique perspective that I hadn't tried before, so I went and laid down on the floor in the corner of my room to see how the perspective of that looked 😂

In fact now that I think about it... This is the first time I've ever done a full color background at all, digitally OR traditionally. I'd say for my first time it came out pretty good!

In general I'm very happy with the end results, although there are a few mistakes here and there, like there's a secrion of Cherry's shadow that's not filled in all the way, and I think some of the background colors could be better adjusted so they don't blend together as much (especially the bench, what was I thinking making it so similar to the wall color aaaaaah)

That's all I can think of for now that I'd like to comment on. Once again thank you to everyone who has liked or reblogged and an even bigger thank you if you read this far! 🥺💝💝💝💝💝

There are benefits to being clumsy... sometimes you get to fall into the arms of a handsome chimpanzee 💜🩷💜🩷💜

Screenshot redraw of a cute scene from what's basically PPG's Valentine Day special! This was so fun to do, I feel like I learn more abt using Illustrator every time I go back to it :3 🩷 Reblogs are all seen and appreciated, click for higher quality!! Tag list + Screenshots referenced will be under the cut 💜

Tag List!! Click here to be added or removed.

@absentmoon, @avas-wonderland, @bee-ships, @beetleboyfriend, @berryshipbasket, @bugthecalmchild, @canongf, @cloudyvoid, @derelictdumbass, @dissonantyote, @edencantstopfallininlove, @final-catboy, @chickenout , @flowering-darkness, @gibles-lovely-selfships, @hoppinkiss, @hyperionshipping, @impulse-exe, @iwishihadfangs, @iyamifucker, @kissingarthurclaus, @lex-n-weegie, @lficanthaveloveiwantpower, @little-miss-selfships, @little-shiny-sharpies, @loogi-selfships, @mandrakebrew, @midoridayz, @mintpecks, @mothfinite, @mrs-kelly, @nameless-self-ships, @nerdstreak, @odysseyyaoi, @oleanderspride, @orbitingaroundyourlove, @paper-carnation, @reds-self-ships, @rotten--cotton , @spacestationstorybook, @squips-ship, @theheroand, @toogayforthistoday, @winterworlds, @yuzuibanagi

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

If you could write Raphael in as a companion, how would be be recruited? What would his approvals/dissaprovals be? What is his personal quest? Would he be romancable?

That's alot of questions!

Ok settle in because this is going to be a big read. I put way more thought into this than I should have lol

Disclaimer: Obviously this isn't going to align with canon and will require a disregard for most of the story beats involving Raphael as an NPC, like the entire House of Hope quest. This is just a fun little "what if" and isn't to be taken seriously.

Recruiting Raphael:

He will find you. Either one night in camp or in one of many spawn triggers on the map in the wilds. His conversation about the tadpole and offering his deal will be mostly the same. In order to recruit him, you must express interest in the deal. Either by agreeing right away, or saying you'll consider it. Raphael's responses are basically all the same even if you agree to the deal, he won't actually make you sign a contract. He'll tell you to "shop around".

Then, you must ask "if I do want to take this deal, where would I find you?"

Raphael's response will be something along the lines of:

"I'll be around. In fact, maybe I could join you in this little misadventure. I'll lounge about in your camp while you run around looking for answers. I could offer sage advice, experience, or even be a confidant."

DIALOGUE TREE:

"If you'd like to join us, by all means. We could use all the help we can get."  ←

"No, no way."

"Why would you want to run around with a bunch of mortals like us?"

"Fine, but I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"It's settled then, I'm sure I will be a very valuable asset. This is going to be fun."

"If you'd like to join us, by all means"

"No, no way." ←

"Why would you want to run around with a bunch of mortals like us?"

"Fine, but I'll be keeping an eye on you"

"As you wish. You'll change your mind. Of that, I am certain. And at that time. It will be too late. Best of luck."

The party will be transported back to camp/where Raphael spawned.

"If you'd like to join us, by all means"

"No, no way."

"Why would you want to run around with a bunch of mortals like us?" ←

"Fine, but I'll be keeping an eye on you"

"There's something about you that I find fascinating. I think it would be to our mutual benefit, should I join your merry little band." (back to dialogue tree)

"If you'd like to join us, by all means"

"No, no way."

"Why would you want to run around with a bunch of mortals like us?"

"Fine, but I'll be keeping an eye on you" ←

"Oh, I am counting on it. I'll be keeping mine, on you. I'll see you soon."

All dialogues except the outright refusal will result in the party being teleported back to the spawn, or back to camp, where Raphael will be waiting.

If you refuse to recruit Raphael, he will be seen again at Last Light, talking to Mol. You only get that once chance though to recruit him. After that, he operates similarly as he does in game as an NPC for Astarion's personal quest. He will be present again in act III in The Devils Den as set dressing for Sharess' Caress. In which case you can talk to him about what he's doing there. He will say he's just enjoying the show, watching the group run around trying to save themselves. You can ask if he would still join the group, at which he will laugh and say.

"Oh no my dear, that ship sailed long ago. Now, I'm just here to witness the carnage, and benefit from all this tragedy."

If you do let him join, he will remain in camp for all of act I and act as a giver of advice/merchant for rare items. He accepts soul coins as currency. In act II, he will leave for a few long rests to get information regarding Astarion's scars, once that event is triggered.

If Raphael does join the party, you will need to do a skill check to keep both Wyll and Karlach. If you fail to convince them to stay, they will leave the party or even become hostile, by some dialogues.

Raphael's Personal Quest:

His personal quest will align with his desires in the base game. He will have much to say that provides context to certain story beats he was previously involved in. Such as the Shar stronghold in the Underdark. If Halsin is not alive, Raphael can be a means to get information regarding Moonrise, the shadow curse, and the Shar stronghold. He will not have a romance scene at the party. Though much flirting can be exchanged and you can choose to think about him as you go to rest for the night.

The first thing he will ask you to do is help him kill Yurgir in The Shadowlands. If you do kill Yurgir, he will help Astarion with his scars. If you don't he will greatly disapprove and you will need to "convince" him to stay. He's messing with you. The skill checks don't actually matter, though they will have different dialogue responses depending on success/failure, and start the player off on lower approval than if you did kill the orthon. Though if you do refuse to kill Yurgir, his romance arc is locked and you cannot romance him later.

This is when he will officially join the party. I think he'd be a bard, so that's what his class is in this little "what if".

His personal quest then involves the crown of Karsus in act III. His arc will include "Archdevil Supreme" or convincing him to give up the crown. With resulting romance/platonic cutscenes for both.

Approvals:

Prioritising yourselves over the problems of others.

Agreeing to help others, for a price.

Exploiting people.

Anything he finds entertaining, like interrupting the bugbear and ogre.

Disapprovals:

Being kind/taking on quests for nothing in return.

Siding with the Absolute cult.

Using illithid powers.

Raphael Romance:

This is a tricky one. I think his romance would be mostly backloaded and starts in act II. If you talk with him at the party and express interest, you two can exchange some steamy words as he recites a poem he wrote for you. You can then either laugh at him and reject his advances, or say you like his way with words. He will then express a very primal interest in you, and say it's best if he let it fester a while. He wants to string you along a little. His greetings won't change, and there won't really be anything to indicate that the dating flag has been set. But if you flirt with him and express your own interest, it will be flagged. You will also have the option to tell him you just don't see him in that way, that you prefer to keep the relationship 'professional'.

In act II, (if you expressed interest previously) after you kill Yurgir, and Raphael joins the party officially. Raphael will have started off with more approval than the other companions, if the romance dialogues were met in act I and you asked him questions about himself/expressed gratitude for his advice when speaking with him in camp. If his approval is lower, you will have chances to get it up around the shadowlands. After approval is high enough, he will approach you and say he has enjoyed his time with you with an odd amount of sincerity. He will say he sees the potential in you and what you and him can accomplish together. That he has been watching the way you lead and handle yourself. And that, oddly enough, he has admiration for you. (side note, there would probably be more dialogue if the player is a dark urge/raided the grove. But I don't have enough brain juice for that currently.)

DIALOGUE TREE (there's lead up of course but I can't be bothered lol so here's the lock in dialogue):

"I spend most of my time categorising people by what use they have to me. And you have proven yourself very useful. But there's something else. Something I haven't experienced in another person for...A long time. I have grown quite fond of you, you know- in my way. Unexpected, but not repulsive. I very much enjoy you and your company."

What are you saying? ←

So I've just been your pawn this entire time?

I'm quite fond of you as well, I'm sure you know that.

I'm sorry but, I just don't feel the same way.

If I wanted to bed with a fiend, I would summon an incubus. Not some pompous arsehole.

"I'm saying, I would like to be something more. Something other than the professional relationship between future client and patron. I would like you to be my paramour, my flame, my right hand. I would like to discuss my plans with you, and lie with you at night."

What are you saying?

So I've just been your pawn this entire time? ←

I'm quite fond of you as well, I'm sure you know that.

I'm sorry but, I just don't feel the same way.

If I wanted to bed with a fiend, I would summon an incubus. Not some pompous arsehole.

*laughs* "Well, yes. I thought that was obvious, dear. But I would like to be something more than that. You have impressed me in many ways. You're ruthless, you're determined, and most of all, you seem to also be interested in me. I would like you to be my paramour. My right hand. Someone to discuss my plans with, and lie with at night."

What are you saying?

So I've just been your pawn this entire time?

I'm quite fond of you as well, I'm sure you know that. ←

I'm sorry but, I just don't feel the same way.

If I wanted to bed with a fiend, I would summon an incubus. Not some pompous arsehole.

"You've made it quite obvious, my dear. I'm flattered, really. But if flattery is not the limit of your intentions, I would very much like to explore something more. I would like you to be my paramour. My right hand. Someone to discuss my plans with, and lie with at night."

What are you saying?

So I've just been your pawn this entire time?

I'm quite fond of you as well, I'm sure you know that.

I'm sorry but, I just don't feel the same way. ←

If I wanted to bed with a fiend, I would summon an incubus. Not some pompous arsehole.

"How interesting. I was sure- No matter. If that is how you feel, that is how it is. I may have overestimated you. That's it then, no more has to be said. Have a wonderful evening, dear."

What are you saying?

So I've just been your pawn this entire time?

I'm quite fond of you as well, I'm sure you know that.

I'm sorry but, I just don't feel the same way.

If I wanted to bed with a fiend, I would summon an incubus. Not some pompous arsehole. ←

*laughs* "Well well, I seems to me that I have given you entirely too much credit. So be it. You will continue to be my puppet, and I will continue to enjoy watching you squirm for your worthness, pathetic life."

Every option besides the rejection one has that similar dialogue. If you agree to the romance, being the one he lies with, he will smile and take the players hand to kiss the back of it. Raphael will then snap his fingers and the two will be transported to a very cozy room with candles and a very large bed. After some more dialogue, the player can choose to have sex with Raphael in either his human or cambion form. Maybe I'll write that section in more detail in a smut or something but for now just use your imagination lol

In act III, Raphael will express a similar interest in the crown of Karsus as Gale does. His iconic monologue about Karsus will still exist. You can either encourage this in a similar fashion, or convince him that uniting the hells would be an impossible task and a death sentence. If you go Archdevil Supreme route, Raphael will become the ruler of the nine hells and you will live there with him as his infernal spouse. He will be loving but distant, and busy. Running all nine hells takes alot of work. The player will want for nothing though. They will have access to every outlet of pleasure and luxury possible. The player will also go through a subtle but apparent transformation to be a little more fiendish, so they can tolerate the environment of the hells. If convinced to give up the crown, he will continue as he is. He will go from between the House of Hope and wherever the player is. He will spoil the player as much as he can and visit often. Sometimes the player will visit him as well. But they still lead their own lives.

I'm sure I could refine the romance arc but I think these are good bones for now.

Thank you for the question! I spent like three days thinking about this lmao.

[googlemooglemadi]

This might sound kind of complicated, so I'm sorry in advance^^

But Valentine's Day comes around and Viktor is sick, so they have to call off their plans (maybe a nice dinner date or something) and Jayce takes care of him? I don't know, I just got that idea a while ago and think it would be really cute!

˚｡⋆୨ 𝑱𝒂𝒚𝒗𝒊𝒌 𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝑶𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕 ୧⋆ ˚｡

Viktor hated the wintertime. He made sure everyone around him knew it, too – he consistently complained about being cold (especially to Jayce, who’d always jump at the chance to warm him up), he was almost always sulking, and he made sure to voice his grievances whenever his body began to ache.

On top of that, Viktor had never really been a fan of Valentine’s Day. Having been single for almost his entire life, it hadn’t ever seemed important to him.

Jayce? Well, Jayce was another story.

He was a little over-the-top when it came to their relationship on an average day. Viktor often compared him to an overeager puppy – not that he’d say so out loud, of course. Jayce tended to get a little huffy when he was teased.

Viktor had become used to Jayce’s ways of expressing love. Physical touch was the most common, but Viktor also occasionally came home to find a bouquet of flowers, his favourite chocolates, or a book he’d been eyeing for a while. It was often paired with a sweet note, especially if Jayce had known Viktor was having a rough day. Viktor would never admit how much he loved the little gestures of affection, though it didn’t matter; Jayce knew.

Despite having dated for a little over ten months, this upcoming weekend would be their first Valentine’s Day together. Unsurprisingly, Jayce was earnest to go all out. He’d insisted on planning a date out at a nice restaurant, and though Viktor assured him that they didn’t have to do anything special, it was clear that his mind was made up.

The few days leading up to their planned dinner date, Viktor found himself faced with two conflicting feelings: on one hand, he was steadily growing more excited to go out and to give Jayce the gift he’d picked out for him. On the other, he’d been awfully tired lately. And sniffly. Not to mention sneezy.

Yeah, there was no denying that he was getting sick. But he did his best to take care of himself – something he had a bad habit of neglecting to do without annoyed reminders of Jayce – until he went to sleep on February 13th, hoping that he would wake up feeling well enough to push through one more day.

Waking up on Valentine’s Day, Viktor was immediately struck with a shiver even though he had multiple blankets piled on top of him. He rolled over in his bed with a quiet groan, his throat sore and his joints aching. His knee, propped up on a pillow and bent at an awkward angle, protested any movements.

He reached out towards his nightstand, grabbing his phone and squinting against the bright light it emitted. His hair hung in his eyes, blocking most of his vision, but he couldn’t find the strength to brush it away. His last text to Jayce had been a simple goodnight, and the thought of having to cancel their plans sent a wave of guilt through Viktor.

It took a few moments and rewriting his text a few times before he finally settled on:

Good morning. I think we might have to take a rain check on dinner.

Jayce responded within seconds, asking why and if Viktor was okay. Viktor answered by telling Jayce that he was sick, though this likely didn’t surprise him – his immune system was anything but strong, and especially during the winter, he felt as though he was sick every other week.

Jayce didn’t seem to be upset about the cancellation of plans, which relieved Viktor slightly. It wasn’t long before Jayce offered to come over, and Viktor agreed. Maybe it was selfish; the last thing he wanted was to get Jayce sick. But at the same time, he couldn’t deny that he wanted company from his boyfriend. It was Valentine’s Day, after all.

Luckily for Viktor, Jayce was quick to get to his apartment. He knew where the spare key was, so he let himself in the front door and headed towards the bedroom. Viktor’s heart melted at the sight of the flowers and stuffed teddy bear in his arms.

Jayce set the flowers down on the dresser and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out to run a hand through Viktor’s hair. His gaze was sympathetic as he watched Viktor lay his head back down. He felt Jayce’s hand press against his forehead, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t need to be mother-henned, even if he did enjoy the attention.

“You look miserable,” Jayce commented as he set the plush in front of Viktor. It was a bit childish, sure, but Viktor couldn’t help but find the gift endearing. He’d never imagined himself collecting stuffed animals, but Jayce had a habit of gifting them to him, and… well, he couldn’t help himself.

“I feel miserable,” Viktor grumbled in response, his eyes fluttering closed as Jayce pulled the blankets further over his body. “Do I have a fever, doc?”

Jayce rolled his eyes and let out a wry chuckle at the mocking edge to Viktor’s voice, lying down in the bed behind his boyfriend. “I don’t think so. I doubt that makes you feel any better, though, huh?”

“Mm, not at all. But I do appreciate the effort.” Truthfully, just the warmth of Jayce’s body against his was enough to lessen his shivering and make him feel better, if only slightly. 

“Well, I’m not going to move from this bed for the rest of the day. Good luck getting rid of me.”

Viktor laughed quietly, the sound a strange mix between a raspy chuckle and a cough. “Duly noted, though I wasn’t exactly planning on getting rid of you.”

“I just thought you should know,” Jayce said with a content sigh, pressing his face against the back of Viktor’s neck. “Hell of a Valentine’s Day we’re going to have, yeah?”

“I’m sorry.” Viktor responded, reaching his hand back to run his fingers through Jayce’s hair. “I didn’t mean to ruin our plans.”

Jayce shook his head, pressing a kiss against Viktor’s jawline. “Don’t apologize. This is just as good as a fancy dinner. Maybe even better.”

Viktor silently agreed. Though he wasn’t exactly over the moon about the fact that he was sick, he certainly wasn’t going to complain about getting to spend a day lazing around in bed with his boyfriend. He didn’t often give himself the chance to just do… absolutely nothing, and if he was being entirely honest, this felt like heaven.

“Thank you for the gift,” he finally said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them, “but you didn’t need to get me anything. Dinner was enough.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I have a feeling you’re being a hypocrite.”

Damn Jayce for being able to read him so well. Of course he was being a hypocrite – Viktor had noticed Jayce eyeing a book at the library a few times, so when he saw a copy on a trip down to the local bookstore, he bought it. He was planning on giving it to Jayce along with a box of his favourite chocolates (though that was, admittedly, partially because he knew that Jayce would share).

He let out a heavy sigh, pressing his face into his pillow. Jayce, used to how melodramatic his boyfriend could be at times, only laughed. “I’m assuming I’m right.”

“Yes, yes. As always.” Viktor begrudgingly admitted, tilting his head to the side just enough to give Jayce a halfhearted glare. “It’s in the kitchen.”

“I hope you know I’m not getting up, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I was, but I suppose I can give it to you later. It’s that engineering book I’ve seen you looking at. And some chocolates.”

Jayce grinned quietly, trailing a few kisses along Viktor’s jaw and up to his cheek. “So you do pay attention. I knew you loved me.”

If Viktor weren’t feeling so shitty, he would have made a show of squirming away from the relentless attention. Instead he leaned into it, closing his eyes and letting out a slow breath. “Have I ever given the impression that I didn’t?” He groused.

“No. But you like to pretend that you don’t.”

“That’s only because you’re a nuisance.” Viktor countered. Even as he insulted Jayce, he sank further into his embrace, feeling properly warm for the first time in hours. That was the benefit of having a boyfriend who doubled as a portable heater, he supposed.

“You don’t really think that,” Jayce murmured, frowning and giving Viktor his best puppy-dog eyes. Viktor might have believed the act if not for the hint of a smile at the corners of his lips and the mischievous spark in his eyes. “You love me.”

“You’re lucky I do.”

“Aw, well, I love you too, V.” 

The words were paired with a kiss on the cheek, which elicited a tranquil hum from Viktor. He let himself curl up against his boyfriend, ignoring the protest of his aching leg. He wasn’t going to let his aching joints or sore throat ruin his Valentine’s Day, not while he was wrapped up in the arms of his favourite person.

this request was literally so cute omg!! had me giggling n kicking my feet while writing it lmfao

credits to @saradika-graphics for the dividers!!

[halforresterluvsford]

This was supposed to be posted on Valentine's Day but life happens and I fall asleep in the middle of writing, Oops. I honestly don't know how good this is, and if you see grammar mistakes no you didn't! Enjoy these sappy brosbands!

Stan breathes out into the cool night air, shivering and shoving his hands in his coat pockets. It was freezing in the Arctic. He was glad when he and Ford decided to head for warmer waters a week ago, winter in the Arctic circle is hellishly cold, and while it created many opportune moments for cuddling, he was getting real tired of being cold all the time. He wants to go to Tuscany, try the wines, the tomatoes, and the cheeses. Go to Rome and make fun of the hokey tourist attractions with Ford. Is it probably miserably hot down there and will Stan complain about it? Yes 100%, but as long as he's not freezing his balls off, he'll take anything. Subconsciously, he brings a hand out to adjust himself in his pants, thinking about Ford finally busting out those green shorts-

"Stanley?" He whirls around, hands shooting up out of instinct to protect his face before he relaxes. It's just Ford, good Ol' Poindexter scaring the piss out of him.

"Yeah, whatzit?" Stan asks, ducking his chin in his collar to shield his face from the cold. To also hide his blush. Ford looks good. Well, he always does, but for some reason, he looks really good right now. His hair is combed, for once, he's wearing a spiffy jacket and a pair of slacks that cut really nicely around his upper thighs. Stan has a hard time not staring. Hot damn is he lucky to have a one Stanford Pines as his lover. His Lover, capital "L". Sure it took some used to, getting over the whole incest thing, but honestly? They're too old to worry about that, and they've spent too many years apart to get hung up some trivial matter such as being related. At least, that's how Ford put it, and Stan couldn't help but agree, who were they hurting by being together?

"It's a rather nice night, isn't it? Do the stars seem brighter than normal to you?" Ford smiles so softly at Stan that he feels breathless for a moment, his heart aching at how much he loves his twin.

"Yeah, they-um, they're really pretty, the moon, too." Damn, he sounds like a babbling idiot. Just because Stanford looks extra good tonight and smiled at him so sweetly. You're a weak man, Stanley Pines. Weak.

Meh, he can live with that, being weak for the person he loves most in the entire galaxy. No, the entire multiverse. Stan would risk destroying the world a thousand more times for Ford, and he will if he has to, that's how much he loves him.

"Yes, the moon does seem rather bright tonight, does it not? I'm glad the sky seems so clear tonight, we were fortunate enough to catch it as it reaches fullness. You know, there are stories about..." Stan doesn't mean to tune Ford out, really, but he can't help but get lost in thought as he stares at him. The moon really is extra bright out tonight, gleaming off Ford's hair and reflecting off his face. Ford looks, well good is the only word coming to Stan's brain at this moment, but "good" doesn't really describe how he looks. He looks like he belongs in an old film as the smooth debonair protagonist. Like Hampterfuppinshire from "The Duchess Approves". Moses, he loves looking at Ford, looking at how he looks so much like when Stan saw him for the last time in Glass Shard but at the same time so different. He's taller, broader, stronger, and way hairier-Stan can attest for that. But he still smiles the same, still styles his hair-sideburns aside-the same. His brown eyes still sparkle the same when he talks, full of excitement and life and yearning. That's always been Stan's favorite part about Ford, his eyes. How they look like amber when the sun hits them at just the right angle, a shade lighter than Stan's. How Ford can never hide his emotions, not when Stan can look into his eyes and see how tormented, how pained, or how happy he is just with a glance. He loves most of all when they light up when Ford looks at his family, all together, when he looks at him-

Stan is jolted out of his thoughts when Ford drops down onto one knee. He scrambles, scared that he missed something serious or important when he was lost in the thought of Ford's eyes. He stops abruptly when his twin brings his hands up, cupped. He stares intently at Stan, who's getting steadily more confused and worried as Ford just stares at him. Finally, after what seems like forever, Ford opens his hands and reveals a ring glinting under the moonlight. It's black, dark enough that Stan wouldn't have been able to make out what it was if it was for the glinting of the moon off purple and blue hues in the ring. His brother is still staring, eyes looking at him, he knows that stare, he's staring so he can gather his words to speak in a way so that he wouldn't make as ass of himself. Stan's breath catches in his throat, and he fights to swallow the lump that formed as soon as Ford dropped down. He stares, he doesn't know what to think, his mind moving at half a mile per second. What is Ford doing? Why does he look so determined? And the ring? Stan opens his mouth to-to say something to get Ford to stop staring at him like that, to speak. He doesn't have to, Ford finds his words very soon.

"I love you, Stanley Caryn Pines. I have loved you for as long as I can remember. For me, it's always been you. Through our fights and being apart for 40 years, it's always been you. No one can make my heart sing the way you do," here, Ford's voice breaks a little, and Stan can see tears in his eyes before they're blinked away, "I need you by my side, I have always needed you by my side, even when I was a stupid fool who scorned you for mistake, even when I was raging against you, I have always needed you. I love you more than words can tell, more than I can say, really. And-and I know a wedding, especially at our age and with our relationship, probably seems ridiculous-heh-but I still want that. With you, proving our love to the world. I-if you'll have me, of course. So, will you-will you marry me?" Ford concludes his speech with an important question and a shaky smile, eyes tearing up and hands shaking-from nerves or the cold, Stan can't tell-but looking all the world in love. With Stan. He feels his heart clench so tightly he worries he's having a hear attack for a quick moment before shaking that thought away. He doesn't know what to say or how long he's been standing there silent, but he thinks its been too long because Ford is starting to look upset, his hand lowering from where he kept it up. "Stanley, I-I-"

Speechless, Stan reaches into his pocket and pulls out the box he's kept in there for 2 months straight now, too cowardly to offer it up to Ford. He holds the velvet box in his hands for a moment before he reaches out and hands it to Ford, waiting for him to open the case. He does so, slowly, eyes widening as he sees the old and tarnished ring sitting snugly in the case. It was their grandfather's, Stan inherited it-as Ford-when their father died. It's gold with a ring of silver in the middle. Ford's always like the story behind it, how their grandpa so desperately wanted to marry their granny, but couldn't afford a ring for her, so he gave a-Stan can't remember if it was a Jewelry maker or a metal smith, that part always changed-he gave a someone one of his mother's silver hoops and the gold caps from his teeth to make a ring with. Ford found the story sweet and romantic, Stan never truly understood that sacrifice until he spent 30 years living someone else's life just to bring back the only person he's ever loved.

"Well shit, guess you beat me to the punch, huh?" Stan laughs awkwardly at Ford's silent staring, his eyes going from the ring to Stan himself. "I-um. I got that after pa', y'know. And I-I've been carrying that old thing around for months now, just waiting for the right time," Stan waves his hands as he looks to the side, too cowardly to look at the man who just proposed to him holding the ring he was going to propose with. He pulls at his coat collar, feeling warm and a tiny bit suffocated. "Heh, it's probably not as nice as the ring you got-" yeah, it's probably made from a fucking Meteor or some shit- "but I remember you liked the ring and the story when we was kids s-so." Stan swallows, or tries to, his throat is too damn dry. "Well jeez, Poindexter, say something at least, I'm dying here." But Ford doesn't say anything. He laughs, hard, belly bouncing, head thrown back laughs. Stan joins with some chuckles after a moment, hoping he's not being mocked, that Ford suddenly changed his mind because Stan got him an old and shitty ring compared to his cool sci-fi one.

"Great Minds think alike, Stanley! Hah! I should have known, you've acting odd for weeks now. Well, more than usual, heh." Ford was smiling so wide that Stan's cheeks hurt just looking at it. So, he's not being rejected, that's good. It's great. It's more than great. "And you remembered the ring, oh Stanley you have no idea how much this means to me." If he looks closely enough, Stan can see tears in his brothers eyes, soft and sweet, happy tears.

"S-so 's that a yes to marrying me?" What? He's still afraid of being rejected. Looking at Stan's history, can you blame him?

"Only if you agree to marry me, as well, Stanley." Ford looks nervous, too, but Stan has no doubt in his mind that he'd say yes to his brother's proposal.

"Stanford, I've loved you my entire life, before that, I think. I loved you before I knew you," Stan snatches the cool probably-a-space ring from Ford's hands and crams it on his finger. A perfect fit. He probably took measurements when Stan was asleep. Such a little creep, his little creep. "Yes I'll marry you. Think I'd also propose-no wait, Bropose-"

"Stanley don't call it that-"

"If I didn't?" Stan finishes, ignoring Ford's interruption.

"Well in that case, Stanley, yes I'll marry you, too. You big sap." Ford fits the other ring on his fourth finger.

"Creep, I bet you spent weeks measuring my fingers to get a ring that fits this well." Stan shoots back, he's got to hold on to his pride. He's no sap.

"Says the man who admitted to carrying around this ring for months. What was it you said? You "loved me before you knew me"? Sounds sappy-ow!" Ford rubs his arm where Stan punched him, throwing a pout his way. They break out into boisterous laughter again at the situation, sibling fights after proposing to each other. Can't beat this type of relationship.

"Hey, should I get you a second ring, for your extra ring finger? Symmetry an' all that Jazz?" Stan asks, shoving Ford out of the way to beat him to the door. It really is cold outside.

"Stanley, stop it! I-ugh fine, go ahead." Ford shoves Stan through the door, "I don't feel like it's wholly necessary to do that, but far be it from me to stop you. Should we tell the kids about this?"

"Nah, not right away, at least. We gotta get married on international waters, anyways, no laws against incest marriages here." Stan rubs his hands together to warm them, grinning as he feels the ring rub against his other fingers.

"We could get married far out enough from the Californian Coast to be in International Waters but have the twins there, assuming they'd want to come. Should we have a summer wedding? Hmmm, maybe spring, I want it to be warm enough that no one's shivering, but I do like our summers back in Gravity Falls, and I'd hate to miss out on it, even for our Honey Moon...." Ford talks on as they warm themselves up inside their cabin, pulling out the ingredients for Hot Cocoa.

Stan smiles at his-his fiance's ramblings. Moses, he really does love his brother.

[finnlongman]

For this totally normal Friday could you possibly share some fun (or not so fun, whatever you want) figures in Irish Mythology/History whose experiences align/mimic those of modern day asexuals and aromantics? :D

This one is tricky, but possibly not for the reasons you might expect! For those who aren't aware, my PhD research focuses on friendship in the Ulster Cycle (particularly the later Ulster Cycle, so kind of post-12th century). This means I spend a lot of time thinking about how relationships are constructed in these texts and how people express affection, and the main thing I've noticed is that there's just... very little romance. It hardly ever comes up.

It's especially noticeable when you compare this material to chivalric romances being written at the same time -- your Arthurian tales for example -- where courtly love-service and other motifs are more prominent. The Irish simply don't go in for that. Even when people are married it's hardly mentioned, and even when they're having affairs and the text is focused on that, they don't emphasise the role of Feelings™ particularly. There are exceptions to this, but fewer of them than you might think; even the famously romantic stories tend to be... less romantic once you look closer at them.

I'm not entirely sure why, though I have a few theories (among them the effects of continued monastic/clerical authorship in periods when secular courtly authorship was more common in some other languages). You do get love poetry (non-narrative) in Irish in this period, just not much in the way of romantic prose (narrative), especially not when it comes to the Ulster Cycle. (And when people do get an attack of the feelings in the prose tales, they usually express those feelings in poetry. Prose is perhaps the wrong medium for falling in love. Most of the chivalric tales are in verse throughout, of course, so they don't have this problem. But Irish really goes in for prose as the medium for storytelling from a very early period, and even when they're translating tales from verse in other languages, often render them as prose.)

So, in many ways, it's hard to perceive characters who seem to have noticeably less interest in romance and/or sex than other characters, because desire is so rarely foregrounded in a recognisable manner. I'd say there's a bit more emphasis on sex, but very little on what we might call "romantic love". There's a lot to be said about how relationships and feelings are classified across this period that doesn't map onto our modern divisions, but even when comparing the literature with that being written at the same time and sometimes very nearby, it seems to be doing something slightly different. Maybe that's why I enjoy this material so much! 😂

Having said all that, Láeg is quite married to Cú Chulainn in a lot of ways, but other than that, I don't think he is ever hinted at having any kind of romantic or sexual entanglements with anybody at any point -- no casual flirting, no ill-timed affairs, no distractions. It could easily be used as a plot point to separate him from Cú Chulainn at a crucial moment but it simply never comes up. While this is quite likely just to be a class thing (we couldn't possibly acknowledge servants as having an inner life of their own), the way he judges Cú Chulainn for running off at the start of the Táin because he has a date very much gives Aroace Best Friend Is Judging Your Life Choices. Although possibly I'm projecting there 😅

Looking outside of Irish material, I have always read 'Guigemar' by Marie de France as resonating with demi experiences in particular. He is into one (1) person and one (1) person only, no matter how hard others try to make him behave in a more socially normative way. Bill Burgwinkle has some insightful remarks about queer approaches to this story in Sodomy, Masculinity and Law, but doesn't explore aro-/acespec readings; I think they would be very productive. When I wrote an essay on queer readings of Marie de France as an undergrad, that was one of the things I focused on.

[asurrogateblog]

The Syd Poll

the topic of this poll is one that is frequently avoided in the pink floyd fandom, but inevitably one we all consider – our individual views on what we think caused syd's psychological struggles (and by extension, led to his departure from the band). I think that – at least in this neighborhood of tumblr – this is a conversation we are capable of having in a way that is civil, nuanced, and at least minimally disrespectful to syd.

So, to help facilitate this, here are some ground rules:

let's all assume we have a mutual understanding of the complexities of this. syd could never actually be reduced down to a poll, and all of our viewpoints are limited in various ways

the poll options just serve as just a conversation starter, and responses are not necessarily a statement of absolute beliefs

feel free to discuss as much or as little of your own perspective as you feel comfortable sharing.

in the case that debates break out, please try to assume good intent – and also demonstrate it (unless, for instance, someone is being blatantly insulting beyond a misunderstanding that needs correcting)

please do NOT vote if you are not actually a pink floyd fan with at least basic knowledge about what we're talking about here.

The options I've included below are not meant to be exhaustive, they are simply the "theories" that I have seen most commonly circulated. I have also decided not to include combinations. I'm fairly sure we'd all agree multiple factors were involved. Rather than make the poll too complicated, I ask you to instead select the one that you think is the "most" important to your viewpoint, and clarify further in your tags/comments as you wish.

so. here we go.

READ BEFORE VOTING ^^^^

(note of correction: "late-onset schizophrenia" should just be "schizophrenia". the typical timeline for onset of symptoms is late adolescence/early adulthood, so syd would've been well within that period at the time)

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears

I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!

The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.

More:

Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.

Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)

Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.

Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.

Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.

The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.

They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.

And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.

I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

if dorian didn't show up, do you think louis would have shot minnie?

I do. I know some people think either he wouldn't have or he would've missed so that's why the writers had him shoot Dorian instead, but mmmmmm no, I don't personally think so. I like to think that if he had taken the shot, his shaky hands would've caused him to shoot her fatally.

Mostly because I'm already so normal about the fact that of the Ericson crew, Marlon and Louis are the only ones with a body count. Well, that we know of, but shown to us in the game, at least. Plus, we know it's Louis' first kill.

Like yeah, Clementine and AJ become part of the crew and they have bigger body counts, and if we're counting indirect kills caused by actions, then Tenn has a count... and I guess everyone has blood on their hands for blowing up the boat... but I'm talking about killed directly with a weapon like....... I lied, I'm not normal about that at all, Louis and Marlon are the ones who have killed someone in Louis' route. I'm also not normal about the fact that Louis kills Dorian and then even as he's clearly in shock, he tries to go with Clementine to get AJ, and then later on when they talk about it, he says it feels like bile but not quite and he's glad he has it in him to do it.... listen, listen, listen... I'm obsessed with that.

Anyway, so if Louis shot Minerva, I think he would've accidentally killed her and can you imagine? He's already enough of a mess after killing the woman who pinned him down and tried to cut his finger off [or succeeded] but he knew Minerva, they were friends before the twins were taken. Even Violet couldn't kill her even though that would've been the smarter thing to do, and we know thanks to meta knowledge that killing her would've saved lives, but Violet couldn't, and I don't think Louis would intentionally either.

Speaking of Violet, if Louis killed Minerva, I hate to think about what that would've done to Vi. I think she might've actually left at that point, like what was planned before it got changed to her being burned. I don't think she would've attacked Louis over it, though, like yeah she attacked Clementine in the cell but Louis? I don't know, but I don't think so just because it's Louis and he'd be a mess about it anyway.

Though if he did kill her, it would be a neat parallel to draw... y'know, because Louis forgave AJ for killing Marlon even though he was pissed and heartbroken, and Violet was annoyed with him the entire time... but could she ever forgive Louis for killing Minerva? Y'know? We already have a similar parallel with AJ shooting Tenn, but still.

If Clementine killed Minerva in that moment, though, then I could see Violet attacking her since in her eyes, Clem proved her right.

So yeah, I get why they added the Dorian kill to his route. It adds another compelling element to Louis as a character, but we also need Minerva alive for episode 4; Louis can't kill her, he can't miss, and he's not going to stay with her because we need Violet to stay on the boat and him to be on shore for all routes.

[abyssal-author-and-artist]

I love being a multishipper. Yes I want these two to kiss. I also want this one person to kiss this other person even though they were kissing this other person earlier. They do not cancel each other out. Sometimes a poly ship helps but then also you ship two brothers with the same person and like. No. That would be weird. I'll just ship them both separately. That's not confusing at all.