#I’m sorry marvel people lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

burnednotburied · 4 months

Text

Chapter 5: The Aquarium

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas; sorry (but not that sorry) to any Owen fans, but he’s kinda a huge asshole in this

Note: I added chapter titles and finally figured out exactly where I’m going with this story lol. Hooray for having a plan!!

(Sorry it took more than two weeks to get this chapter out! End-of-semester craziness, ya know? I hope this chapter being like twice as long as usual makes up for it!)

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

Abby realized too late that she probably should’ve warned you about the life-sized whales on the ceiling.

By the look on your face, she could tell you’ve never seen anything like it.

Which made sense. She hadn’t either before she and Owen found this place three years ago.

She paused to watch you for just a second, taking in your amazed expression as you marveled at the enormous hanging sea creatures above you.

Abby could easily remember what her first time here was like. How incredible and other-worldly this place felt. She imagined it must be even more overwhelming for you, this fractured piece of a world you were not a part of and knew little about. A world where humans built a place where they could go to look at fish for no reason other than that it was entertaining. A world where people did things just for fun.

Of course, Abby had also never been a part of that world, but at least she knew about it. She’d caught glimpses of it, carefully and intentionally gathering bits and pieces. She watched films and documentaries. She read novels and history books, newspapers and magazines if she could find them.

Knowledge was power. And, to Abby, having power was important. Having power meant being able to keep the people she cared about safe.

And if you had enough power, no one could ever take it away from you.

So she dedicated herself to becoming powerful, both of mind and of body. It’s all she had known and cared about since she lost her dad.

It’s why she lost Owen.

She still wasn’t sure if that had been a good thing or a bad thing, but she knew she felt guilty about it.

Three years ago, Owen had quickly claimed the aquarium as his own. He cleaned it up, made it feel as homey as possible, and spent as much time here as he could get away with. Abby didn’t tell anyone, not even the rest of the Salt Lake crew. It was right around the time they were breaking up. She felt like she owed him her discretion at the very least. Not that it really made up for anything.

Yesterday morning, when Nora told Abby that Owen was missing, she assumed he’d come here.

God, she hoped she was right.

Abby shifted the injured Yara in her arms, her muscles burning from carrying the girl for so long.

It was early in the morning now. The sun had just begun to rise as the four of you had been making your way into the aquarium.

“Owen!” she shouted, leading the way down one of the hallways off the main entrance. Abby thought he would most likely be out on the boat, either sleeping or continuing in his never-ending attempts to get the thing in working order.

“Owen!” she called out again. “Owen! Are you here?”

She paused for a moment, listening. Nothing.

“Owen—”

“I’m here.” She heard his voice just before he rounded the corner, stopping short when he saw the whole group of you. “Are those Scars?” he asked, genuinely surprised and definitely confused as hell.

Abby ignored the question. “I need whatever medical supplies you have.”

Before Owen could respond, Alice came barreling around the corner, barking aggressively at the perceived enemies.

The next few seconds were chaotic to say the least.

You screamed and jumped back. Lev reacted quickly, his bow drawn and an arrow notched.

“Alice, no!” Abby yelled out.

Owen grabbed for the German Shepherd, holding her back as she continued to lunge forward, trying to attack.

“Put the bow down! It’s okay!” Abby shouted.

Owen gripped the dog’s harness tightly. “Put that down!”

“Alice, shut up! Lev, put the bow down!”

“Alice, stop—Abby, what the fuck?!”

“Lev, listen to them! Put it down!” you insisted, putting a hand on his shoulder as you tried to push him behind you.

All of this happened simultaneously, muffled by the sound of deafening, echoing barking.

“Alice!” a new voice, one that Abby knew belonged to Mel, shouted. To her, the dog listened, sitting down obediently with one final bark.

Mel stood next to Owen and Alice, staring.

There was a moment of silence.

Abby turned to the young boy. “Lev, lower the bow. It’s okay.”

Reluctantly, he listened.

“Abby, who are these people?” Mel asked.

“They saved my life,” she said, hoping that would be enough of an answer for now. “Can you take a look at her?” Abby looked down at Yara, who seemed to be barely conscious in her arms.

Mel dropped a hand on Alice’s head, instructing her to stay, as she slowly stepped closer, eyeing you and Lev cautiously.

“This is Yara,” Abby said before nodding over to the kid at her right, “That’s Lev. And that’s—” She stopped short. She wasn’t about to introduce you to them as Prophet.

Behind her, you spoke, offering up your name. Abby and Lev’s eyes both swung to you, widening for two entirely different reasons.

Abby’s because she was hearing your name for the first time. It was your name. It was like she discovered a brand new piece to this puzzle she had been frantically trying to assemble since the moment she saw you.

She wasn’t sure why Lev looked shocked, but it seemed like a big deal, for you to use your name in place of the title that had been forced upon you by the other Scars.

Abby quietly repeated the name, committing it to memory.

Mel gave a small nod, unaware of the mini revelation that was happening right in front of her, instead focusing on Yara with a concerned look on her face.

“What did this?” she asked, looking down at the girl’s mangled arm.

“A hammer,” you said, stepping forward until you were standing right next to Abby.

“It wasn’t me,” Abby quickly added. Guilty, despite her innocence. She was ashamed that she needed to make that clarification. Worried about what you would think about it.

Mel hesitated, regarding each of the Scars one by one again before sighing. “Alright. Let’s lay her down.”

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

The pregnant woman—clearly someone Abby knew but wasn’t exactly friendly with—decided that Yara had compartment syndrome, which apparently meant they would have to cut her arm off.

While everyone else argued about the best way to accomplish that task, you stood off to the side, feeling sick. If you had been able to stop Emily’s men last night, this wouldn’t be happening.

It shouldn’t be happening.

Yara was going to lose her arm or die because you failed her.

You were trying not to spiral. Trying to be helpful now. (Too little, too late.) Trying to pay attention to the Wolves’ conversation.

They didn’t have the supplies they needed to perform the amputation safely. Yara didn’t have time to wait the couple days it would take Abby to travel all the way to the hospital and back.

“What if we could get you there in two hours?” Lev asked, hands grasping the metal table where Yara laid in the center of the room. “The Wolf hospital, right? On the west side?”

The man—Owen—stood, interested. “How?”

“The bridges,” you said, realizing what Lev was getting at. All eyes turned to you. “Our people built them. High up.”

Lev nodded. “It’s how we get around the flooding. And… you people.”

After a quiet moment, Abby stepped forward. “Can she handle two hours?”

The woman considered this, her hand comfortingly placed on Yara’s shoulder. “Probably, yeah.”

Abby nodded. “Then make a list of what you need.”

Owen stepped closer, joining the circle the rest of you had formed around Yara. “Wait. Are you serious? Abby, these bridges are used by Scars.”

The fact that he was arguing against the plan frustrated you. Yara didn’t have time for this.

“They only send in small groups at a time,” Lev said.

“You heard that? Small groups.” Abby said, watching as the other woman jotted down the supplies on a loose piece of paper and handed it over.

“This isn’t a joke.” Owen looked only at Abby, trying to catch her eyes. She seemed to be actively avoiding making contact.

Instead, she turned to you and said your name, followed by, “Let’s go.”

You looked up at her, at a loss for words. It was sad that something as simple as hearing your name could have this effect on you, but it had been eight years since you’d heard it… And this was already the second time Abby had said it.

You wanted to turn and walk right out the door with her, happy to follow her anywhere, but reality set it.

“I can’t,” you said. “I don’t know where the hospital is. And I don’t know our bridges well enough to guide you. It will have to be Lev.” It looked like Abby might argue with you, or at least tell you to come with them.

You wanted to. The idea of letting Lev go back out into danger without you made you sick with worry. But, foolish as it may seem, you trusted Abby to look out for him. And you didn’t understand these other Wolves and the strange dynamic at play here. You certainly didn’t trust them to be alone with Yara.

“Someone needs to stay with her,” you said, holding Abby’s gaze.

She nodded, grabbing her backpack off the floor. “Alright. Lev.”

He looked to you, taking your hand in his. The group splitting up must’ve felt wrong to him, too.

Almost on instinct, you did what you had been trained to do. You offered a bit of comfort.

“May She guide you,” you said quietly, giving him a small, encouraging smile as you squeezed his one hand between both of yours.

The words were familiar to you both, a common Seraphite mantra. He reciprocated your tight grasp and finished the line, “May She protect you.”

When you released his hand, he placed it on Yara’s shoulder, as if to tell her goodbye as well. She was unresponsive.

You felt a hand fall on your own shoulder and looked up to find that it was Abby. She nodded her head to the opposite end of the room, impatiently taking your wrist in her hand and leading you over there when you didn’t immediately catch her meaning.

She didn’t let go.

Abby stood close, speaking quietly so that no one else could hear. “We’ll be back as soon as possible. Yara’s going to be fine, okay. And I’ll keep Lev safe.”

You couldn’t help the slight upward curve of your lips. “I know,” you said. “I trust you.”

She blinked, caught off guard, but continued. “I wouldn’t mention the whole you-being-the-Prophet thing to Owen and Mel if I were you.”

“I’m not a prophet,” you deadpanned.

She let out an exasperated breath. “Okay, sure. Well I wouldn’t tell them that the Scars think—”

“Seraphites,” you interjected.

“—Seraphites—Just… you get the point. Don’t mention it, okay?”

“What if they ask questions?”

“Dodge them. Be vague.”

“You don’t trust your friends?” you asked, more serious now.

“No,” Abby said. “Not with you.”

You couldn’t begin to guess what she meant by that.

“I trust them… for the most part.” She glanced at them over your shoulder before meeting your eyes again. “I just don’t know how they would react to that information. It’s not exactly a small thing. I don’t know what they would do with it.”

You looked at her for while longer, then nodded your head. “Okay. I won’t say anything.”

“Abby?” the man’s voice came from behind you.

She let go of your wrist immediately, as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

You turned around to find the woman—Mel—and Owen both looking at you like they were witnessing something truly insane, instead of just two people having a conversation.

Lev stood on his own by the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eager to get moving.

From behind you, you felt Abby’s hand wrap around your wrist again, squeezing lightly and then letting go.

“We’ll be back,” she said, this time at a normal volume. She joined Lev by the door, opening it and leading the way out.

“Abby!” Owen said again, moving to follow them out.

Mel groaned, frustrated. “God! Owen, just let them go.” When he ignored her, she went after him, the door slamming loudly behind her.

You stayed behind with Yara.

She was blinking slowly, barely awake, her shallow breaths too few and far between for your liking. You felt helpless, knowing there wasn’t much you could do other than sit and wait.

You pulled up a chair.

Just outside the door, the two Wolves were arguing. Although, you only caught bits and pieces of it.

Something about Abby and Scars and a cloak… Something about someone who looked like she just stepped out of The Lord of the Rings. You didn’t know what that meant, but it was clear they were talking about you.

Again, you unfastened the cloak and freed yourself of your top layer. Whether that was due to embarrassment or a sudden recognition of the uncomfortable warmth of the room, you couldn’t tell.

“Did you see how she was looking at her?” “Owen, why do you care? Why does it matter to you?” you heard through the door.

The dynamic here was becoming more and more confusing.

You’d assumed that Owen was the father of Mel’s child, just because they seemed to live here together. But that didn’t explain Mel’s rather apparent unfavorable opinion of Abby. And it definitely didn’t explain Owen’s preoccupation with Abby.

Their conversation continued for several minutes, volume rising and falling periodically. There wasn’t much you understood and even less of it seemed important or interesting to you.

Eventually, the door swung open again, making you jump in your seat. Mel reentered the room, offering you a strained smile as she checked on Yara. You quietly watched her work.

“There’s not much we can do for her until Abby and your friend get back,” she said to you, eyes still focused on Yara. “If you want, I can get you set up with a place to sleep while we wait.”

“No,” you said, too quickly to be polite. “…Thank you. I’ll stay with Yara.”

Mel pulled her lips into a tight line and nodded, leaving the room again. She came back a few minutes later with water and a shiny red apple, offering them up for you to take.

“Sorry. I know it’s not much. Owen isn’t well-stocked on food right now,” she said after you’d accepted the snack.

You smiled. “Thank you. You’re very kind to be helping us at all.”

Mel didn’t really answer, instead gesturing to the door as she walked toward it. “Well, we’ll… be around. If you need anything. And I’ll come in and check on her periodically.”

You nodded, quietly thanking her again. The discarded cloak that you’d left on a table by the door caught your eye. “Oh. Wait.”

She turned to face you again, eyebrows raised in question.

“What is The Lord of the Rings?” you asked.

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

An excursion that was supposed to take two hours ended up taking nearly all day.

But hey, Abby had done the best she could.

She faced her deeply-rooted fear of heights on that sorry excuse for a bridge. She fought off Infected and Scars. She was, let’s say, detained by her fellow WLF soldiers at the hospital. And then she had to fight and kill what must’ve been the biggest, gnarliest, freakiest blob of cordyceps infection to ever exist.

She barely got out of there alive, but she managed to leave with the medical supplies in hand. Plus tons of new material for her future nightmares.

Mel had started operating as soon as they got back to the aquarium, with Owen assisting her.

You and Lev sat just outside the door the entire time.

The surgery had gone well. Yara was doing okay, all things considered.

After, Owen handed Abby a pile of sleeping bags and blankets and walked off without saying a word.

Abby handed them off to you and carefully lifted Yara again, this time to move her to a more comfortable spot to rest. She led the way to the next room, you and Lev trailing behind.

There was a long couch in the new room. You motioned for Lev to lay down on one end while Abby set Yara down on the other.

She stepped back and watched, amused, as you fussed over the two of them for a few minutes, using most of the blankets on your young friends.

When you were sure they were both as comfortable as possible, you left them to rest and walked back over to Abby. In your arms, you held the two sleeping bags that you hadn’t used on the kids.

You offered one of them to her.

She shook her head, motioning to the space on the floor in front of the couch where there was an old, worn-out rug.

“Lay mine out for me? I have to go do something before I go to sleep.”

“You’re leaving?” you asked, looking concerned.

“I just need to talk to Owen. I’ll be right back.”

You studied her face, like you were trying to figure out whether or not she was being truthful.

Abby doubled down, pointing again. “Go. Get some sleep. I’ll be back.”

You sighed but went where she had pointed and began laying out the two sleeping bags.

One for you. One for her. Right next to each other on the floor.

You had been doing a good job of hiding it, but Abby could tell you were exhausted. She couldn’t blame you. Hell, she was exhausted. And the sooner she touched base with Owen, the sooner she could come back.

She turned and went out to track him down.

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

You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

You had been awake for almost forty-eight hours, but you couldn’t fall asleep. Your mind was racing. Filled with worry for Yara, concern about her condition, guilt for having been unable to prevent the injury from happening in the first place. Thoughts of your own people hunting your friends with the intent to kill them. Fear that, despite your desire to keep them safe, your lack of knowledge and experience in the world outside of Haven would make that impossible.

You thought about the woman you killed yesterday. How she’d so tenderly and earnestly called you her Prophet just moments before you snuck up behind her and ended her life.

You wondered if you too were now an apostate. If the Seraphites had found the bodies of Emily and her men and assumed you were dead, or if they somehow knew that you betrayed them all the very moment you were given the chance.

You wondered if your mother knew what you had done. If she would be punished for your sins.

You thought about Abby, hoping that your faith in her was not misplaced. Hoping that your attraction to her hadn’t clouded your judgment.

This was crazy. All of it. It was too much.

You had tossed everything and everyone you’ve ever known aside, thrown the first twenty years of your life to the wind like it meant nothing at all, and run off into the forest with a Wolf without a second thought. And now that you, Yara, and Lev were finally (seemingly) not in immediate danger, you had time to think things through. Contemplate what you’d done and try to figure out where it left you.

By your own hand, your life had been irreparably changed forever. It was done. There was no undoing it. No going back.

You would stay with Lev and Yara. You would stay with Abby if that’s what she wanted.

But where would you go? It wasn’t safe for any of you to stay here.

That wasn’t a question you could answer. You didn’t know of anywhere else. You wouldn’t know how to find a place that was safe.

All of these thoughts bombarded your mind at once, taking turns at the forefront. Contradicting emotions swirled, adding to the chaos.

There was a sadness, a sense of loss for the people you had always belonged to.

Guilt and shame. Two feelings that were not at all foreign to you, but you had never felt as strongly as you did now.

A lightness. A happiness. Almost a thrill. A hopeful nervousness for the freedom you had claimed for yourself, the agency you had uncovered, and the possibility of what was to come.

Sadness, again, for the mother you would miss, and the realization that you had already been missing her for a very long time.

Frustration—simmering anger—for your childhood that was stolen and the shame that did not originate within yourself. The unrelenting voices that lived in your head, weighing in on every thought and critiquing every action. But those voices were not your own. You would take your dagger and cut their presence from your mind, carefully carving them out of your head and disposing of them yourself if you could.

And, amongst everything else taking up space inside of you, demanding your attention, it felt stupid and frivolous and wasteful, but you couldn’t keep Abby from your thoughts. She kept appearing, in the middle of it all. This was something that you truly did not have time for and should not be putting energy toward.

But you had never felt intrinsically drawn to someone in the way you were drawn to her…

Behind you, you could hear slow, heavy breaths coming from either end of the couch. You were glad that Lev and Yara were getting some rest. You’d do your best to make sure they got their fill of it this time.

You got up quietly, trying not to disturb them but feeling like you needed to move. You shook out your arms, rolled your neck around, wiggled your fingers, stretched your legs.

Honestly, you wanted run. Or hit something. Or scream. Loudly and for a long time. Until you ran out of air and your voice was ragged.

But you didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, you went to look for Abby.

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

“Seriously? You’re telling me Isaac’s top Scar killer just… turned over a new leaf? Decided to befriend and help three Scars?” Mel was staring into Abby’s soul, her words dripping in disbelief.

Abby had found her and Owen upstairs, in the same room that had once housed the boat man’s skeleton and the couple’s Christmas stockings (not at the same time, of course).

Owen was angry. Exactly what she had done to earn his anger, she couldn’t say. He held a jar of his homemade moonshine. A jar that was somewhere between three-quarters and one half full. Abby assumed it had been filled to the top just a few minutes ago.

He had apparently decided to be a silent, brooding drunk tonight, so Mel had been the one to interrogate her.

Abby tried to explain everything, albeit keeping things pretty vague. She didn’t want to give them too much information about you specifically, and she didn’t want them to get the wrong idea about you, so she made sure to omit the part where you nearly gutted her. And the part where you were the new Scar Prophet that Isaac was after.

Mel wasn’t buying the part where Abby simply had a change of heart.

She shot Owen a cautious look before she said, “Abby, do you—I thought you might—Is it possible that you’re…” Mel stopped, gathering her thoughts, trying to find the best way to word it. “It’s not… like… a problem that she’s a woman. It’s just… it is kind of a big deal that she’s a Scar—”

“Abby isn’t into a fucking Scar,” Owen interjected, his knuckles white around the mouth of the jar. “And she’s not fucking gay.”

Then he started chugging the jar’s contents, forcing down swallow after painful swallow.

The women were both silent for a second, surprised by the anger in his words.

Abby didn’t know what to say. She knew she was into you—and she’d be lying if she said that wasn’t at least part of the reason why she was helping you and your friends—but she had never considered if that made her gay.

She honestly didn’t really care to label herself as anything either way. It felt stupid—in the honest-to-god post-apocalyptic hellscape that they lived in, where they had been engaged in a never-ending war since they were kids—to care about that kind of thing.

Why should it matter—when her family was dead, her friends were constantly in danger, and there were enemies closing in from every angle—if she was romantically or sexually interested in men or women or both? Wasn’t that almost guaranteed to be the least important detail at any given moment? And why should she waste any of her time or energy trying to define herself in that way?

This was all really new to her. She hadn’t really let herself be interested in anyone since Owen, and she honestly wasn’t sure if she had ever been into him for the right reasons. Again, she remembered how uncomfortable it made her feel to kiss him, to be touched by him…

She couldn’t imagine that it would feel like that if you touched her. And just the fact that she hoped one day she’d find out was probably telling enough.

So maybe, in the Old World, people would’ve called Abby a lesbian. Maybe she would’ve identified with that title if things were different, if her life was lower stakes, and if she’d had more time to explore herself and her interests.

What-ifs didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was here now. You were with her—and she needed to figure out a plan of how to proceed from here—so she could make sure to keep it that way. She could figure out the rest later.

Mel was the first to speak, annoyed, but addressing him calmly, like she was talking to a rabid animal. “Owen—”

He didn’t even let her get a word in.

“No. This is bullshit! Abby—” He looked past Mel to meet Abby’s gaze, insistent. “I’m going to Santa Barbara to find the Fireflies. If you’re smart, you’ll ditch the Scars and come with me.”

Mel slammed her hands on the table, causing both Abby and Owen to jump. “What the hell do you mean, you’re going to Santa Barbara?! We are going to Santa Barbara!” They weren’t used to seeing violent outbursts from Mel. She was the queen of passive aggression, but she rarely lost her cool. “What is wrong with you, Owen? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? This is all so seriously fucked up.” She turned away from them, clenching her fists at her sides, looking like she might cry. Or hit something. Or both.

But for the first time in years, Abby wasn’t on the receiving end of her disdain.

Guess all she had to do for her old friend to stop seeing her as a threat was get entangled with the Scar Prophet. No big deal.

Owen, in a moment of clarity, seemed to realize how huge of an asshole he was being to the mother of his child. He set down his jar, stood, and walked over to Mel, putting his hands on her hips and pulling her into him, her back pressed against his front. He was swaying on his feet, his cheeks flushed, hands clumsy. If he hadn’t been drunk before, he definitely was now. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. We are going to Santa Barbara. Of course it’s we. Hell, the Scars can come too for all I care. We’ll make it a party.”

Abby rolled her eyes at his quick switch-up and turned to go. Clearly this conversation wasn’t going anywhere productive tonight, with Owen drunk, Mel upset, and all of them exhausted beyond belief.

There was a creak by the door, and all three of them turned to look, Owen’s reaction far more delayed than Abby and Mel’s.

You stood there in your long white dress, hesitant to come in. Shy, having clearly interrupted a tense conversation.

Abby wondered how long you’d been standing there unnoticed. Her instinct was to meet you in the doorway and take you back to bed, away from Owen’s rude drunkenness and Mel’s inquisitive eyes.

“Hey! Scar! How the hell are ya? Come join us! We were just talking about sunny California. Ever been?” Owen pulled away from Mel and plopped back down on the couch, finding his jar again.

“Umm…” You looked to Abby for guidance, but she was just as unsettled as you. “No. I haven’t… Sorry, I was just looking for Abby.”

“Yeah, I bet you were,” he mumbled under his breath. Abby wasn’t sure if you caught that, but she wasn’t interested in having you hear any more of this.

“Let’s just go,” she said to you, moving toward where you still stood in the doorway.

“No! Come! Sit! Let’s talk,” Owen insisted, slapping the spot next to him on the couch.

You gave Abby another hesitant look before walking past her to join Owen. Mel sighed and lowered herself into a nearby chair. When it became clear to her that retreating with you wasn’t an option right now, Abby walked back over. She stood right across from the couch so she could see you, leaned against the wall behind her with her arms crossed over her chest.

You sat next to Owen, although not so close, putting as much distance between you as possible.

“Atta girl,” he chuckled. Abby wanted to punch him.

All of this was out of character for Owen, but she knew that he was always kind of unpredictable when he got drunk. With everything that had happened and emotions running so high, everyone really should just be going to sleep.

With that in mind, Abby would continue to stand nearby until you were ready to leave. She wouldn’t let things get out of hand.

“So… Scar—”

“Seraphite,” Abby corrected him. He scoffed and took another swig.

You smiled softly at her, looking grateful.

“Scar,” he said again. “Can I perhaps interest you in some hooch? Made it myself.” He offered up the jar for you to take, tilting it towards you with unsteady hands.

“No,” Abby immediately answered on your behalf. “She does not want any of your hooch.”

“Well give the girl a chance to answer,” he slurred. “What? Your little girlfriend can’t speak for herself? She can’t make her own decisions?”

You glanced back and forth between him and her, reaching for the open jar of clear liquid, properly baited by his taunting words.

Abby tried to remember that Owen was her friend—her best friend—and that he wasn’t usually like this.

“What is… hooch?” you asked, staring down into the glass jar suspiciously.

“It’s moonshine,” Abby said. When that didn’t clear things up for you, she added, “Alcohol.”

“Like wine?” you asked, tentatively sniffing it.

Owen laughed. Abby nodded, “Kind of, but it’s much stronger. Seriously, you won’t like it.”

There was a flash of something that looked like defiance in your eyes, offense taken at the idea that you wouldn’t be able to handle something that others could.

You put the jar to your lips and tilted it back enough to take in a generous mouthful.

Abby watched as your eyes went wide and you struggled to swallow it. Honestly, she was impressed that you didn’t immediately spit it out. You managed to choke it down before breaking out in a harsh coughing fit.

Owen laughed, accepting the jar as you shoved it back into his hands. Your eyes watered as you tapped on your sternum, taking a second to regain the ability to speak.

“You made that?” you wheezed in disbelief.

“Yep!”

“On purpose?”

Abby laughed at that, leaning back against the wall again once she was convinced that you weren’t dying.

“Hey, that’s prime hooch! You should be thanking me right now.” Owen took his own swig of it, lounging back against the couch with his arm resting along the back.

“Thank you?” You squinted your eyes but tried to be polite.

“I was kidding, princess. You don’t have to thank me.”

Abby, again, resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

“So,” Owen began, “tell me. How is it that you’re a Scar… but you’re not scarred?” He chuckled to himself, as if he had made a joke.

Your eyes shot to meet Abby’s, clearly unprepared to answer that question.

“Not every Seraphite has facial scars,” you said, keeping things vague.

“Every Scar I’ve ever seen does.”

“You’ve seen me, haven’t you?” you shot back.

Abby let out a surprised laugh. Owen clenched his jaw.

“Every Scar has face scars. It’s like your defining thing. It’s why we call you Scars.” He was adamant, unyielding. And the playful mask was starting to slip back into anger. Abby could tell this wasn’t going to end well.

“Well I guess you don’t know as much about Seraphites as you thought you did.” You were frustrated now, pressing yourself further into the far end of the couch to put more distance between the two of you.

Owen opened his mouth with a rebuttal, but Abby jumped in. “Lay off, Owen.”

He threw his hands up in surrender, leaning back against the brown cushions. “Fine, fine. Whatever. Forgive me for having questions. Fuck me, I guess. I’ve just never seen a hot Scar befo—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Mel was on her feet. “Alright. That’s it. You’re done.” She had been sitting silently up until then, ready to intervene if things got out of hand, just as Abby had been. Apparently, Owen calling you hot was where she drew the line.

Abby was glad Mel was saying something. Because if things had gone much further, she really might’ve hit him.

“Get up,” Mel instructed firmly, standing over him. “You’re going to bed.” He let her take the jar out of his hands and, with much effort, pushed himself up off the couch and started walking toward the door. Mel was right behind him, hands hovering on either of his sides in case he lost his balance. He was grumbling under his breath the whole way, like a toddler whose bedtime was being enforced.

Abby watched them go.

Once they were out of sight, she looked down at you, only to find that you were already looking at her.

“Sorry,” she spat out. “About him. He’s not usually like that.”

You nodded, but you didn’t seem sure that you believed her.

“So you guys are… friends?”

Abby cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. We’ve known each other for years. Joined the WLF together. Me, Owen, Mel, and a few others.”

You considered this for a second before responding. “Where were you before?”

“Salt Lake City,” she said, looking down at her feet. “Utah.” Abby didn’t know if that would mean anything to you.

“Mel doesn’t seem to like you very much,” you said, observant, not trying to offend. Abby smiled, despite the meaning behind your words. You added, “And Owen doesn’t seem to like me.” You stated it like it was a fact, like it was neither good nor bad, just true.

“He’ll get over it. He’s just drunk.” Abby didn’t know if that was true, but she wanted to comfort you in that moment, not that you actually seemed to care all that much about Owen’s opinion of you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You were looking up at her, eyes wide and vulnerable.

Anything, Abby thought. Out loud, she said, “Sure.”

She pushed away from the wall and came to sit next to you on the couch, filling the spot where Owen had been.

“Why do you people keep calling me princess?” you asked. Abby laughed quietly under her breath, turning her body to face you.

“I don’t know. There’s something about you that’s very princess-like I guess.”

You made a face at her. She smiled wider.

“It’s not a bad thing. You just come across as soft. Delicate. I don’t know… Graceful.”

“I am not delicate,” you said, defensive.

“I know.”

“I’ve killed.”

“I saw.” Abby was being serious, although she did find the conversation amusing. “You’re very skilled with a knife.”

You nodded, satisfied with her response, and fully turned to face Abby. “And what does hot mean? Why did he call me hot?”

“Oh—” Abby stuttered, “Uh—He meant… He was saying that you’re very pretty.”

“Oh.” You considered this, eyes wandering away. “Earlier he said I look like The Lord of the Rings.”

Abby smiled again. There was something about you that felt like it might’ve been taken straight from the high fantasy genre.

“Do you know what that is?” she asked.

“Yes. Sort of. I asked Mel. She said it was a film about a magical land. With fairies and stuff.”

“They were books first.”

“Have you read them?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you read a lot of books?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I try to read as much as I can. Whatever’s available.”

You nodded, thinking, letting the conversation die down.

After a moment, “Abby?”

“Hmm?” she hummed. She liked the way you said her name. Just the sound of it made her heart beat a little bit faster.

“Owen also called me your girlfriend.” You were studying her face, trying to read her reaction.

“Yeah. He did.” Abby said, looking into your inquisitive eyes.

“Does that just mean friend? Or is it something else?”

“He was just trying to piss me off.”

“So it does mean something else?” Your eyes were on her lips now, and you were ever so slightly leaned forward. Almost subconsciously.

“It doesn’t matter,” Abby said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

She was pushing you away, and she didn’t know why. She could’ve answered that question so differently. Maybe she should’ve.

Abby wanted you. And she was almost certain that you felt the same way. At the very least, there was a curiosity. A hesitant attraction.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was wrong. That anything with you would be something she wasn’t good enough for.

Something she didn’t deserve.

Something she would ruin if given the chance.

So tonight, she didn’t give herself that chance.

Was that noble or cowardly? She wasn’t sure.

You pulled away, turning to face forward as you let out a long breath, puffing out your cheeks.

“I’m tired,” you said, standing. “And I should check on Yara and Lev.”

“Yeah.” Abby nodded. “Okay.”

She remained in place, ready to mentally beat herself up some more and stew in her thoughts alone for a while.

You cleared your throat lightly, swaying on your feet. “Umm… I’m not sure that I can find my way back to the room. Can you… please—?”

“Oh.” Abby hopped to her feet. “Okay, yeah. I’ll… I guess I’ll go with you.”

She avoided eye contact, leading the way into the dark hallway.

#the wolf and the prophet #my writing #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic

170 notes · View notes

gayerthanevertbh · 1 year

Text

another me?

s.j oneshots masterlist | n.r masterlist | navigations

summary: you and your girlfriend, scarlett, were having a normal dinner when you heard someone breaking into your house.

warnings: pure comedy, flirting, and none to be honest lol

author’s note: what you ask you shall receive!

“This is good,” Scarlett said with a cinnamon bun in her mouth. “I don’t think I’ve tasted a dessert like this in my life.”

"I'm glad you liked it," you said, swirling a glass of red wine in your hand as you watched her eyes twinkle with love, desire, and desperation. You can't take your eyes off them. “Are we still going to your best friend’s wedding?”

“Oh yeah, she just texted me actually. We have to be there I’m assuming… around late afternoon.”

“Well, I guess we should go to–”

You could both hear the front door open as she looked over her shoulder to see who was there. You stood up and walked slowly towards her house's corridors, when you noticed someone you hadn't expected to see. It was another Scarlett, but this one was drenched and had a bruise on the corner of her lips. You cover your mouth in surprise and stare intently at the woman's eyes.

“Y-Y/n? Is that really you?” her voice was thick, like a woman from another country, as she returned your stare with bright eyes - she even had Scarlett's eye color.

"How did you-" you paused for a moment, moving your eyes up and down to see if this was real. “A-Aren’t you Natasha Romanoff? You look exactly like my girlfriend!”

“Girlfriend?” she chuckled deeply, crossing her arms. “You have a girlfriend?”

"Yes," you nodded, as if certain Scarlett was your girlfriend. “I’m sorry, you just… look like that character she played.”

You hear your girlfriend's footsteps approaching you until you hear a faint gasp from her, noticing that she, too, is in shock. Scarlett put her hand on your shoulder and asked, "W-Who is this?"

“My name is Natasha Romanoff,” the alleged twin of Scarlett says in silence with a smug look on her face. “And you’re touching my girlfriend.”

“This has to be some sick joke,” your girlfriend replies with a loud snicker, clapping her hands together as she looks back at you. “Y/n, this has to be some cosplayer who broke into our house.”

“That’s what I do, I break into people’s houses. I am Natasha Romanoff, I don’t know who you are but you look exactly like me. Just don’t like that hair of yours, it’s gross.”

Scarlett shot back a glare and grumbled, “Excuse me? Did you just insult me in my own home?”

“You’re touching my girlfriend, so yes.” she shrugged.

You had no control over the situation, and you were as perplexed as hell. Who was this person? How did she gain access to your home? What could have caused Scarlett's character to come to life? This made you laugh on the inside, but you had to keep a straight face because you didn't want to start another fight.

“Who says Y/n is your girlfriend?!” Scarlett exclaimed with annoyance, wrapping her arm around your shoulder as she pulled your body into hers possessively. “You must be some sick fucking stalker, watching my girlfriend. Look, this might be a fun game for you, but you gotta stop this.”

Natasha sighed, dropping her hands to her thighs. “But she is my girlfriend! I don’t know how I got here, I just used the time travel that Bruce made and now I’m here, in New York.”

Scarlett stayed silent for a bit until she screamed, “This isn’t Marvel! You have to stop this!”

“Scar–”

“What is Marvel? Wait, are you talking about Carol?” she asked, who seemed aloof with the situation. You were starting to understand what was going on, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Somehow, Natasha slipped into your universe with Scarlett, and now she is talking to her twin.

It was like a comedy for you.

"You have to stop touching my girlfriend," Natasha said threateningly, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer to her. "I came here to save her, and you appear to be my nemesis."

Scarlett scoffed and grabbed your other wrist, attempting to pull you closer, but Natasha was stronger, and she was staring at your girlfriend with a dark glare in her eyes. You couldn’t lie, but this was slightly turning you on. There were two women fighting over you, and they look exactly the same. You had to hold your laugh.

“Guys, stop,” you begged, removing both of your wrists from their grasp as you stood back, biting your right inner cheek. “This has to be some funny dream, you know? Like Natasha, how are you sure that I’m your girlfriend? Maybe your girlfriend is in another universe, but not this one.”

“Don’t fall into her games Y/n, please.” Scarlett rolled her eyes, leaning against the staircase wall.

“I’m not, I’m just–”

“Steve told me you were here,” she said, her voice sumptuous. “And you look exactly like Y/n, so I know it’s you. Plus, you have the same fashion sense as hers. So stop lying to me and come back, kotenok.”

Your girlfriend snickered once again. “Detka? What does that even mean?”

"It means she's my baby, and she belongs to me!" Natasha slapped Scarlett's arm as she attempted to tackle her, but Scarlett pushed her torso away and held her neck, attempting to push her against the wall, but the redhead was strong, far stronger than your girlfriend. “She’s mine! I don’t care if you’re Natasha Romanoff, but she’s mine! So back off–”

"Scarlett, stop!" you yelled, yanking your girlfriend away from the poor redhead as you turned her face to look you in the eyes. “Come on, stop this. We have to help her get back from your universe–”

"Not until I get you out of here," she says. Natasha cuts you off, gently squeezing your hand into her palm. You find it endlessly romantic that she brings it to her lips as she kisses it. “Come with me, let’s go home. You know she’s just trying to manipulate you–”

"Oh, please!" Scarlett cried out, her hands in the air, like a child who had lost its mother. “You can’t be serious, right? Y/n is my girlfriend, I don’t know what you’re on but if you… you know, don’t get back to your universe then I might have to beat you up!”

"You couldn't even choke me a few minutes ago," the redhead murmured, a sly grin on her face. “So how could you ever possibly beat me up? I might do all the dirty work for you.”

"I-" you couldn't say anything as you watched them stare at each other, almost as if they wanted to hurt each other, but you couldn't let that happen. At the end of the day, it was going to be a disaster. “Can we just sit down and talk this out?”

"If we fight over you, then yes," Natasha said, her voice tense and her lower lip chewed. “I know I’ll win anyway.”

"Fine, I'm in," Scarlett said smugly, crossing her arms, which turns your body on even more. God, she looked hot like this. The blonde smirked and returned her gaze to her adversary. “You know she’ll fall into my arms at the end of the day.”

“Yeah sure,” she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t think that’s ever gonna happen but, sure.”

“Here,” you said kindly with a smile on your face as you offered Natasha some clothes that you had years ago. “I hope this guest room is cozy for you, what is New York like in your universe.”

“The weather there right now is dry,” she responded, her eyes never leaving yours. “But here, it’s cold.”

“It’s still the winter season, unfortunately.”

“Well, I guess that explains.”

You were about to leave when you heard her ask, “I know it’s you, Y/n. We had a fight in my universe and you left, I tried finding you for a month. I don’t know if you’ve forgotten our love but… I’m sure it’s still there.”

You sighed in defeat, knowing that Natasha was in the wrong on this one. You turned around slowly and shook your head, causing Natasha to falter her smile – which hurt you immensely.

“I don’t think I’m from your universe, Natasha,” you whispered, but she could still hear you from afar. “I don’t know if your girlfriend is dead or alive but, I’m most definitely not your Y/n.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” she sniffed, rubbing her nose. You couldn’t help yourself but admire her masculine beauty with a mix of feminine because of her eyes and her mouth. If you have to admit, you find this Avenger attractive. “I’ll still get you, though.”

“H-Huh?”

“Your personalities are the same, and the way you both think are the same. Somehow, you are no indifferent from my Y/n. It’s going to be so easy for you to fall in love with me, just watch.”

“I don’t–”

“Y/n, it’s time for bed.” you turned over your shoulder to see Scarlett leaning against the doorframe, smiling at you wholeheartedly as she gives Natasha a quick glare – causing you to giggle softly.

“Coming, my love.”

“You’ll be calling me that someday,” Natasha said confidently, lying her head on the soft pillows. “And Scarlett, you have the nicest pillows. I’m very comfortable in my bed.”

“Whatever, Natasha.”

should i continue this?

#natasha romanoff x reader #scarlett johansson x reader #natasha romanoff x you #scarlett johansson x you #a's oneshots!#natasha romanoff fanfic #scarlett johansson fanfic

874 notes · View notes

caelesjjk · 1 year

Text

entangled | jjk&kth - teaser

⟶title: entangled

⟶au: marvel au

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ genre: romance, smut, love triangle

⟶wc: 1.5k for this

⟶banner: by meee, and yes I’m insane and made a new one

⟶warnings: mentions of blood, kissing, a boob grab and an ass grab, but no actual smut for this, Jungkook calls you Data

⟶ summary: Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man.

He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend.

You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well?

Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world.

What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

⟶ authors note: hello darklings. I know a lot of people have been waiting for this fic, and you’ll have wait just a bit more. But in the meantime, I offer this little teaser to hold you over. A little glimpse of spidey kook. First chapter will be posted in just a few weeks!

Also, if you asked to be on the taglist just now that I tried messing with it for a long ass time and got annoyed lol. I may try again for the actual fic.

“What are you doing here anyways?” You shove against his broad chest and feel his arm release your waist. He sighs, following you inside your apartment.

“I know you’re upset I missed the study session…” Jungkook starts to explain, but you twist back around to face him.

“If my friends hadn’t seen you around campus now and then, they would think I made you up, Jungkook. You never show. It makes me look pathetic.” You cross your arms over your chest and wait for the next excuse.

“You aren’t pathetic, Data. I’m just…” Jungkook winces when he reaches for you, a hand moving down to his ribs in pain. “Sorry, it’s healing it’s just slow.”

“What’s healing? What happened to you?” You let the fight go for a moment, closing the space between the two of you and moving his hand out of the way.

Beneath his fingers is a large cut, bloody but half hidden by his suit. It looks angry and inflamed. What could’ve made a cut like this?

“It’s nothing. I’ll heal up in a couple hours.” He pulls your hand away, blood stained on the tips of your fingers.

“It won’t matter how quick you heal if it gets infected. Come in here.” Your hand wraps around his and you pull him into your small bathroom. You steady him against your bathroom vanity and move to grab your first aid kit from the cabinet above your toilet. “Take that off.” You gesture to his Spider-Man suit.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jungkook teases, gingerly working his top half out of the suit. He hisses through his teeth as he peels the suit away from his ribs and lets it hang at his hips.

You are not the universe's strongest soldier.

Your eyes drift over all the dips and curves of muscle. A perfectly sculpted chest and abs you could literally eat off of are scrambling every sense you have in your head. You need to focus. Stay focused on the task at hand and not his ridiculously toned body.

“You okay, Data?” He asks, humor in his voice. That horrid nickname he had given you in your first year as lab partners is feeling more endearing these days. You clear your throat.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine? Just tending to Spider-Man’s wounds in my extremely tiny bathroom.” You try to laugh but it doesn’t sound genuine.

You take out some bandages and gauze and get to work cleaning him up. But even as you tape down the gauze, you can visibly see the wound getting smaller. Super powers were really something else.

“Data.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality.

“What?” You sigh.

“Please come here.” His hands reach for your hips and you give in, letting him pull you until you’re flush against him, suddenly nose to nose. “That’s better.”

“I’m angry with you.” You whisper, heart pumping a bit faster in the close proximity.

“I know that you are. I’m really sorry…I swear I wanted to be there.” You look down to see him slip his gloves off his hands and sit them on the countertop before they’re coming up to cup your face.

“Then what happened? You need to tell me.” Your hands wrap around his wrists.

“There’s something out there, Data. A…monster that we can’t figure out. He’s strong…and fast. Nothing I’ve ever seen before.” His thumbs brush the corners of your mouth.

“What does it want?”

“It keeps breaking into the Lab across the River. It’s looking for something. But no one at the lab is being very forthcoming with information.” His forehead presses to yours, “but Mr. Kim is working on that part.”

Seokjin Kim, also known as Ironman. He was a mentor and a good friend to Jungkook. He had helped Jungkook navigate the new world of being a superhero and also gave him a job to help him pay for school.

“Hasn’t Mr. Kim told you to call him Jin over and over?” You tease, hands coming up to rest against his chest. Jungkook laughs quietly, pulling you closer.

“He has. Guess it just slipped out.” His hands move down to palm your ass.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” You raise an eyebrow in question of his actions.

“Just feels like I haven’t touched you in so long.” His warm mouth finds your throat and he presses kisses to the skin.

“Two days is a long time?”

“It is when it comes to you. Thinking about how much I want you gets so distracting.” He nuzzles into the crook of your neck making you giggle.

“So what I did for you two days ago wasn’t enough?” You let your hands slither down from his chest and over the planes of his stomach.

“Never enough.” His nose skims over your jaw until you’re back face to face and his lips are devouring yours. “I’d like to pay you back.”

“How?” You moan when you’re cut off by his tongue sliding into your mouth.

“Let me show you?” Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, taking your hand and leading you out of the bathroom.

Thinking he means to lead you to your bed, you start to pull him towards it but he seems to have other ideas, walking you back out onto the balcony. He releases your hand momentarily to slide his suit back up over his shoulders.

“What are you going to show me out here, Jungkook?” You start to feel suspicious.

“Do you trust me?” He jumps up onto your railing with ease, still holding your hand in his.

“Not if it involves you swinging me around off the side of buildings.” You start to pull your hand out of his, but his web shooter from the other wrist shoots a web at your torso, using his inhuman strength to pull you up onto the railing into his arms.

“I would never let you fall. Never. Just close your eyes for a few minutes. I promise it’ll be worth it, Data.” He touches your cheek gently, and even though you want to throw up every time he does this, you close your eyes and wrap your arms as tightly as possible around his neck and legs around his waist. “Ready?” He whispers in your ear, one strong arm wrapping around your back.

You don’t verbally answer, just nod once before burying your face into his neck.

And then the ground is no longer beneath your feet and the sickening feeling of free falling is very apparent. You try to breathe, squeezing yourself around Jungkook as you listen to the whooshing sound of his web shooters discharge and swing you between the tallest buildings in the city.

“You’re doing amazing.” Jungkook kisses your cheek, “just another minute.”

You keep your eyes squeezed shut until the curiosity becomes too overwhelming, making you dare to open your eyes just the slightest bit. You see the sun completely setting on the horizon, orange and purple hues slowly disappearing beneath the river. As long as you don’t think about how high up you are, it really is beautiful up here.

Jungkook shoots a web straight up into the air, letting it connect to the side of one of the tallest buildings, slowly pulling the two of you up until he’s reached the highest ledge, tapping your thighs so you know it’s safe to put your feet down.

“Why are we up here, Jungkook? You know the heights..” he kisses you before you can finish the sentence.

“Can we try something?” He smiles, and it’s infuriating. You’re too weak for this spidey boy. You sigh with exasperation.

“I’m already very wary of saying yes.” You look away from the ledge towards the top of the building.

“Let me make you feel good…up here.” His cheeks heat a little when he asks.

“Is this some kind of weird adrenaline thing? Why would you want that?” Your voice cracks and you sputter, disbelief heavy in your tone.

“I think it’ll be intense…feel so good.” His lips move down and his teeth nip at your jaw.

“It’s insane…” you melt into his touch and the way his mouth sucks at your neck.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll take you home. And I’ll get you naked in your bed instead.” He pulls your shirt over your head, fully knowing you’re about to give in.

“Bed sounds so good right now…”

“Please, Data…just try it.” He tosses your shirt to the side, cupping your breasts and kissing the tops of them.

“What do I have to do?” You feel too good to let the fear ruin the way he’s making you feel.

“Lie back on the ledge, with your arms above your head and your wrists crossed.”

You let him lead you down onto the ledge, every nerve in your body is hot and on the edge. Jungkook makes sure that you’re settled before he stands back up straight, looking down at you while you slowly move your arms above your head the way he asked.

“You’re perfect, Data.” Jungkook stares at you a moment longer before he aims his web shooter and traps your wrists together against the concrete ledge beneath you.

#bts #bts fic #jungkook fic #taehyung fic #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #entangled teaser #jjk #kth #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader

440 notes · View notes

bamababygirl7 · 1 year

Text

PINNED POST (Please read before following or interacting)

My links: OF Fansly Cashapp Wishlist Kinky Kuriosities Discord Server

I’m a poly little/middle/maso/primal/puppy sub from Bama… War Eagle!!!!!!! 🦅 Although I am a submissive, I am NOT your submissive! NO HONORIFICS PLEASE AND THANK YOU❣️❣️❣️

Do NOT follow or interact with my blog if:

🔞 you are not 18 or older!!! 🔞 I honestly prefer you to be over 21. Anyone that is even 0.001% ok with pedophilia or anyone who thinks that DDlg in any way has to do with incest or pedophilia. I am not on drugs. I’m just tiny so I’m not sure why I attract so many meth blogs but due to personal reasons involving a family member METH BLOGS/SPUN BLOGS DNI

I am a mom to an amazing boy and am def over 21 lol. I love Disney, Star Wars, Marvel, and Harry Potter (even though I don’t support the views of JK Rowling) Yes I’m a big nerd and totally proud of it 😋 I am obsessed with stuffies (mainly bunnies and unicorns), glitter, Princess Jasmine😍😍😍 I also love Belle, Harley Quinn and Hello Kitty🥰 I am completely ADHD and totally impulsive and random. I am super silly and love memes and anything that makes me laugh. I own my own business and have a college degree but sometimes I lack in the common sense department 😂🤣😂

Blank/empty blogs will be blocked. I will block any blog that makes me uncomfortable as well. I’ve gotten really good at using the block feature so follow at your own risk. If I accidentally interact with any blog that is a minor or you think is an unsafe blog, then please let me know.

My posting of anything that contains sexual content or pics of myself is in NO way an invitation to send disgusting messages or pics to my inbox. All reblogs are assumed to be consensual activities among adults. I do NOT want your dick pics. I am NOT going to sext or play with you online. Sorry Charlie… ain’t happenin Captain!!!

I am not looking for a sugar daddy lol or a Daddy Dom!!! I am just here to blog for myself, so if you don’t like what I post, Block me!!!

I’ve put some of my personal tags that I use frequently in the tags of this post to make it easier (mainly for myself) to find certain posts lol Pics tagged me are mine and it is fine to reblog them. I do have a lot of followers that are here more for the educational posts and a lot of littles so I’m going to do better at adding trigger warnings in the tags of posts that I make or reblog so that people can block the tag and not see those posts. I will tag everything that falls under cnc or anything else I think needs a trigger warning with the tag #bamatw. I’ve added these tags in the tags of this post to make it easier.

#me #my asks #fave mutuals #memes are my coping mechanism #kinky memes #just little things #my writing #things i make #psa #important #bamatw #mental health #txt post #music is life #bamababygirl7🥰💞#my tiktok #just silly little thoughts #my txt #memes i made

409 notes · View notes

mikavlcs · 1 year

Text

Young Blood

Pairing: Gwen Stacy x gn!reader

Summary: You’re new and Gwen’s forced to show you around. It doesn’t end up being as tedious as she was expecting.

Warnings: mild astv spoilers, my writing lol

Word count: 1.6k

Notes: listen, i know this will get like 20 notes, but i needed to do this okay. i love her sm. this also my first time writing anything marvel related...as i’m sure you can tell.

Masterlist

Gwen dug the heels of her palms into her eyes as she walked up the wall, unsuccessfully fighting off another exasperated groan.

She shouldn’t have been doing this. She should be off in another dimension fixing anomalies and fighting bad guys, not this. Anyone could greet new recruits, so why Miguel insisted on making her do it was an eternal mystery. She was honestly starting to think that he just liked annoying her.

Jessica offered her a sympathetic smile when delivering the news, but Gwen didn’t want sympathy, she wanted a mission.

Still, she followed orders, knowing that disobeying would only put her further down the mission list. Plus, with Pavitr and Hobie busy, what else was there to do?

She stepped up to the entrance and her eyes found you immediately. You were easy to spot. All newbies were. They all had the same awe-struck reaction to the compound which Gwen couldn’t blame them for, considering she had been there once herself.

Your mask was off, hanging limp in your hand while your eyes roamed the vast space with a wonder she felt only months prior. It brought a smile to her face.

“Insane right?” she prompted gently as she approached, drawing your eyes to her. “I had the same reaction. It’s not every day you get to see so many spider-people in one place.”

“I didn’t know there was this many. I thought I was the only one,” you admitted, astonishment clear in your voice.

Gwen chuckled. She knew the feeling well. “We all did, but there’s more of us than you can imagine.” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Gwen, by the way. I’m your appointed tour guide.”

You took her hand, gave it a firm shake. “I know, Jessica told me. Nice to meet you, Gwen.”

“Likewise. What Earth are you from?”

“Uh,” you trailed off briefly, tapping at your watch. “Earth-69.”

A snort escaped her before she could stop it. You looked up at her, wide-eyed, while she fought to contain herself.

“I’m sorry, I’m—it’s nothing. I’m actually from Earth-65. Never met anyone from the same sector.”

Brows raised, you remarked, “Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” She took a look at your suit and, seeing the abundance of white expertly weaved in with the mixture of red and black, couldn’t help asking, “So, why white? Most of us use some combination of red and blue. Besides me, obviously.”

“I want my enemies to see me coming,” you replied, sending her a slightly off-kilter grin that made her unsure whether you were joking. She smirked.

“Foreboding. I like it.” She turned, signaling you to follow. “Now, come on. As you can see, we have a lot of ground to cover, and Miguel will want to brief you as soon as possible.”

You obeyed, following her as she led you around headquarters, showing you the ins and outs of every winding, overlapping corridor while informing you of the group’s purpose. Well, as much as she could without ruining Miguel’s big presentation.

About a third of the way in, she said, “I should probably start introducing you to the others.” Gwen looked around, spotting a few vaguely recognizable masked faces. She pointed to one with a large white spider on his chest.

“That’s Peter.”

He gave you a polite salute which you returned, giving him a compliment about his suit as well. A familiar plastic Lego figure came ambling down the way. Gwen pointed to him.

“That’s Peter.”

The Lego twisted his hooked handpiece in your direction. You gave him a startled wave in response, looking thoroughly perplexed. Next, a car came cruising along and she pointed at it.

“That’s also Peter.”

The car honked as it sped by. You didn’t even react this time. Up ahead, Gwen spotted Ben, sitting off to the side with his tightly curled up to his chest. She sighed, halfheartedly pointed in his direction.

“That’s—”

“—let me guess, Peter?” you cut in, shooting her an unimpressed look.

She laughed. “No, that’s Ben.”

You let out a quiet oh and gave him a concerned look. Ben roused at the sound of his name, looking at the both of you with an absolutely pitiful expression.

“I would greet you guys, but I’m in the middle of a very traumatic flashback,” he moaned, overblown sorrow tinging his words.

Your eyebrows knitted together, and you started to say something, but Gwen pushed you forward by your shoulders, throwing a bye, Ben! over her shoulder. “Trust me, it isn’t worth it,” she mumbled at the confused look you gave her.

She continued guiding you by your shoulders, ignoring the odd looks from passing spiders, until you stopped short suddenly, making her crash into your back.

You were frozen, mouth agape, and eyes locked on something across the way. “Is that a t-rex?”

Following your gaze, Gwen beamed and nodded. “Yep. That’s Spider-Rex.” You gaped.

“Hey Pter!” she yelled with a wave. A ground-shaking roar echoed through the compound in response, scaring more than a few spiders and making Gwen chuckle. After a few more moments of gawking, you unfroze and continued following her, though your eyes still trailed the dinosaur in the distance.

The rest of the tour went without a hitch, the only small stops being a break to pet Spider-Cat and a short introduction to Margo. Soon enough, she was leading you down the long, dark hall to Miguel’s sanctuary.

Miguel, seemingly sensing your guys’ incoming presence, activated his platform and let it start making its way down. Very, very slowly. He wasn’t even halfway down by the time you guys made it into the heart of his den. Gwen barely resisted facepalming. He did this with every newbie, and it got more embarrassing each time. She leaned over to you, suppressing a grimace at the bewildered look on your face.

“I know, it’s slow. He just really likes his dramatic entrances,” she explained away, watching Miguel’s platform descend from above ever so slowly.

You both stood there for minutes, until finally, the platform stopped, and Miguel turned to peer down on you with a look that would have made Gwen cower a few months ago, but now just made her want to heave a deep sigh.

“Miguel, this is the new recruit from Earth-69,” she announced, voice rising at the end with the remnants of a poorly contained laugh. You didn’t seem to catch it, but Miguel did. He gave her a look that told her to knock it off and she did. Hesitantly.

He stepped off the platform and approached, eyes solely on you. “I see. Welcome. We’re glad to have you, but unfortunately, your briefing will have to wait as something has come up.” He turned his gaze to Gwen then, and her posture straightened as she realized what he was about to say.

“Gwen, I’ve got a mission for you.”

“Yes! Finally,” Gwen replied. But he was giving her that look. Her excitement wavered, realization setting in. “Please, don’t say tha—”

“You’ll be needing a partner for this mission.”

Gwen groaned. She hated partner missions. Even when she got the opportunity to pair up with people she liked, she much preferred to go solo. She just worked better alone—always had and always would. She tried to plead with Miguel, “C’mon, Miguel, you know I’m—"

“This is non-negotiable, Gwen,” he cut her off with that annoyingly authoritative tone that she couldn’t stand. “Pick a partner and get going ASAP. I want this done as quickly as possible.”

He walked off then, likely to find Jessica, leaving Gwen to sulk. And she did for about thirty seconds before pulling herself together. When Miguel wanted something done, it needed to get done. She could sulk more later. For now, she shifted her focus to finding an apt partner.

Her go-to’s were off the table. Pavitr was off on his own solo mission and Hobie was off doing lord knew what. Probably something anarchy related. She would have to find someone else.

Jessica was always busy these days, and she was taking less and less missions as her due date neared anyway, so she was off the table. She wasn’t asking Ben because she valued her remaining sanity. Peter B was an option, but he’d want to bring his baby along and Gwen was not equipped to deal with that. But maybe Web-Slinger would work. Or one of the various Peters. Or…maybe someone new.

Her eyes drifted over to you, still at her side despite the tour being technically over. She sized you up, once, twice, then one more time for good measure. You could work, but she knew nothing about how you operated in the field. The entire time, you watched her with a raised brow, unafraid of her judgment.

She crossed her arms, leveled you with a careful look. “On a scale from 1-10, how would you rate your combat ability?”

“10/10, but I may be a bit biased,” you responded immediately, still maintaining eye contact.

Her chin jerked up, eyes narrowing. “Confident, okay. How about web-slinging ability?”

“9.5/10.”

“9.5?”

“I might’ve hit a bird last time,” you said with a small grimace, “but everything else was flawless. Promise.”

That was good enough for Gwen. She uncrossed her arms and stepped closer, giving you a sly smile.

“Well then, newbie, how would you like to go on your first mission?”

You were pulling on your mask before she could even finish, red fabric veiling your wide smirk. “Let’s do it.”

With a nod, she inputted the coordinates Miguel sent her and watched as a corresponding portal spawned with a brilliant burst of light and color. The sight never got old, no matter how many times she saw it. You stepped up to her side and she sent you a sideways glance, a smile creeping onto her face.

Partner missions sucked, but she had a feeling this one wouldn’t be so bad.

#i need this movie injected into my veins #gwen stacy #gwen stacy x reader #spider gwen #ghost spider #across the spiderverse #spiderman #marvel #this is kinda boring sorry. testing the waters #also idk what tags this should exist under #but who else has had hummingbird on repeat??

911 notes · View notes

p-taryn-dactyl · 4 months

Text

i bled for free, your wretched victory (1)

a/n: timeline? who's she, don't know her. i just wanted to get this idea out before i focused on my requests and WIPs lol, hopefully y'all like it! i might be beefing with marvel rn but my brain won't stop giving me ideas. also i apologize for how bad this is but it is something i want to post <3 word count: 1.3k warning(s): blood; injuries; i can't not put reader through hell sorry; really slow paced, sorry i want this to be a slowburn series prompt: when meeting a friend for coffee doesn't go to plan, you realize you've been caught up in a scheme much larger than you could ever have thought

Leaning against the wall, you listened to the footsteps behind you. Blood dripped in between your fingers as you clutched the wound at your side. The pain kept you focused, aware of your surroundings. You were tense as the footsteps passed you, the heavy falls of your attackers boots echoing through the hall. Sliding down the wall, you allowed yourself to breathe. Each breath sent shooting pain through your ribs, making you stifle your gasps with your fist. You couldn’t remember how you got here, how you went from the crowded streets of NYC to the cold sterile halls of this facility. All you remember was waiting for your friend Yelena, who you had met while serving drinks at a Christmas party, in a small cozy cafe. She wasn’t late, you were just early. You didn’t know if she ever showed up as your memory had gone blank. The gap filled with nothing opened in your memory to when you had woken up, surrounded by tubes, plastic and metal.

“She couldn’t have gotten far, keep looking.” A male voice echoed down the hall, sending shivers down your spine and freezing you in your spot. His voice haunted your mind, fear lacing through your thoughts. You couldn’t remember why but this man was dangerous. Waiting until you couldn’t hear any words, footsteps, or even breaths, you stood up again, staggering slightly from the pain. Something told you to follow the path to your right, running was a struggle, every part of you fighting against the action. You left bloody footprints for your captors to follow but you wouldn’t let yourself think about that. A door was in front of you. A door busted wide open, the metal bent and contorted, slash marks surrounding the frame. You could’ve cried with relief. But before you could take a step outside, you felt something graze your thigh then searing pain followed. Some words were called out, a name that brought back the fear. You could feel people surrounding you from behind, slowly advancing like one would a wounded animal.

“Now, let’s not be dramatic-” That voice. He was behind you. A burning smell filled your nostrils as you spun around, screaming and throwing your arms in front of you. The man and his men flew backwards, hitting the walls with sickening cracks. Turning back towards the door, you ran out, ignoring the feeling of rocks and broken branches piercing your feet. You clung to your side, your eyesight blurring at the edges as your blood stained your hand. It felt like centuries had passed before you saw a road, the happiness overlooking the fact that armored cars blocked it off. Panic clawed at your throat. How far did his reach go? How far would you have to run before you could escape this nightmare? You thought about staying where you were, letting your body become one with the woods but something in you pulled you to a part of the forest where you couldn’t see the cars or the militarized camp. You couldn’t see anything special, making you wonder if the blood loss was finally making you go crazy. But then you saw the static. Looking up, your eyes followed the glitches towards the sky.

“Oh, I’m definitely going crazy.” You muttered to yourself, turning away from the wall of static, removing your hand from your side so you could hold your head in both hands, ignoring how you were getting blood on your face and in your hair. You sat on the ground in a slump, shaking your head as you continued to ignore your pain.

“Hey! What are you doing? Get out of the way! Are you okay?” A loud shout caused you to jolt backwards, your back hitting the wall of static. Before you were pulled in, you saw a woman with glasses running toward you and a FBI agent following her, their eyes full of horror.

—

Every part of your body cried out in pain, the feeling of being torn apart and being put back together adding to the disorientation. When it stopped, you found yourself in the middle of a road. Collapsing on your knees, you started to cry, no longer able to ignore the pain. It took a minute to realize the oddness of where you were. There was no color. Everything was black and white, like the reruns of shows you used to watch with your grandparents. But when you looked at your hands, you saw tendrils of color under your skin, weaving between your veins. Orange, pink, purple, glowed until it settled into the monochrome you found yourself in. A sense of danger lingered around you, furthering your tears.

“What the hell is happening to me?” You cried out between sobs, struggling to once more stand. Looking around, it hit you that you had nowhere to go. You had no idea where you were, no idea how long it had been since your last clear memory, you had no idea if you were even in the same state. The air around you was quiet, eerily so. You convinced yourself to start walking, heading towards the first house you saw. It looked old, it’s architecture one that you normally would admire, but now it just added to the uneasy feeling in your stomach. You headed up towards the door, your head pounding, eyes blurry with pain as you felt like your body was finally about to give out. Before you could pass out, you raised your hand to the door and knocked as loud and hard as you could. The door opened surprisingly fast, causing you to stumble backwards a bit. The woman in front of you had a look on her face you couldn’t describe, the only thought in your mind being your pain.

“Please,” you stuttered out, gasps of breath interrupting your words, “please help me, I don’t know what’s-”

Before you could finish what you were saying, your mind gave into the pain. Everything went dark as you collapsed. The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes was a cloud of purple wrapping around you.

—

Agatha felt the disturbance in the air before she heard the knocks on her door. She made her way up from her lair in the basement, her magic curling around her hands. It couldn’t be Wanda, she told herself, this felt like something else. Her magic sang as it felt power but quickly the excitement died down as she realized this wasn’t a magical power. This was something else, something she didn’t know. The loud knocking at her door shook her out of her confusion, but adding more to it. Surely Wanda couldn’t be making a storyline in her sleep, she couldn’t be that aware just yet. Agatha opened the door quickly, her eyes widening as she took in the image in front of her. A young woman stood barely holding herself together, blood staining her skin and matting her hair. She begged Agatha before falling to the ground, Agatha’s magic just barely catching her. Agatha brought the girl into the house, snapping her fingers bringing the two of them to the basement. Wanda wouldn’t be able to sense the disturbance here. Agatha watched as color came back to the girl's skin, gasping as tendrils of orange and pink mixed with her magic, working together to mend the injuries that riddled her skin. She knelt on the ground, pulling the young woman closer to her, watching as the wounds closed and healed. Agatha brushed her hand on the girl's face, magicking away the blood and tear tracks. A low humming noise filled the air, causing the witch to startle as she watched the runes protecting her basement thrum. They could sense the power but couldn’t contain it. Agatha’s eyes returned to the girl in her lap, running her hands through the tangled hair, an attempt to calm whatever storm she had brought into her home.

“Who, or what, are you?” Agatha whispered, her mind racing for any explanation the Darkhold could give her. The book would’ve laughed in her face if it could, answerless as Agatha realized Westview was in more danger than she thought.

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #wanda maximoff #wandavision #wandavision fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader

99 notes · View notes

whyareyouhere66 · 1 year

Note

Omg cool I have an angsty request 😈(if you’re comfortable writing it<3)

Kind of Tom!Peter Parker x Male!Stark!reader x Tony Stark(platonic obviously) ??

Reader has a rocky relationship with his dad Tony, just wants his attention, to be seen by Tony etc. but once Peter joins and takes Tonys full attention reader just automatically hates him for ‘stealing his dad from him’. As time goes on reader just gets more hateful and jealous of Peter, maybe getting into fights with Peter on purpose. Suddenly there’s a new villain/anti-hero (??) that’s been interfering with there plans or just wrecking havoc to go after Peter. Plot twist when they finally catch them/they’re too hurt to keep fighting, it’s revealed as reader. You can make it as angsty as u want!

(A.K.A. Reader is Loki, Peter is Thor and Tony is Odin lol)

AHH THIS

I love this trope-

So glad you requested this, (and thank you for checking stuff first) and enjoy

Also note that I’m not too fresh on the marvel timeline, if you notice anything that doesn’t exactly align with the movie than I’m sorry just brush past it- this also might be the longest fic I’ve ever written so

Implied to be set around the start of Peter’s Spider-Man stuff.

Look What You Made Me Do

Male Stark Reader x Avengers

“If I loved you, was a promise….

Would you break it, if you’re honest?”

[idontwannabeyouanymore, Billie Eillish, 2017]

Cw: violence/fighting, Tony being a bad dad, slightest mentions of drinking, angst Kind of jumping straight into it too-

I’ll fix a few things later I’m tired I want this one to be out and about

Named after a Taylor song, starting with a Billie lyric 💪💪

If you were to ask anyone about the wealthiest men in modern day New York, it’s inevitable for Tony Stark to appear somewhere on that list.

He’s rich, handsome, a superhero. New York’s knight in shining armor.

Most believe his life is a dream, somehow oblivious to the fact that maybe a superhero doesn’t live life in the dream house. But when he’s made his brand through money, fancy houses, big parties, and shiny military weapons it’s easy for people to see no further than surface level.

That isn’t the case for his son, though.

From a wealth aspect of it- the young Stark knows how grateful he is, how grateful he should be, for his father.

If it wasn’t for him, he wouldn’t be currently sitting in this large bedroom, with a view most would pay a couple grand for, wouldn’t be surrounded by the various expensive objects linked to his little interests. It doesn’t even matter how much Y/n would insist on paying- he never seems to think much of it. Maybe it’s his way of showing affection.

That’s what Y/n hopes, at least.

Because if not- there’s not much there. Tony Stark has never been much of an affectionate person, some may blame it on his own father. Others would blame it on the business- no time for distractions on a long days work.

But neither of those reasons matter- for all his son ever wanted is for Tony to love him the way he wants him to.

Static crackles through Y/n’s small speaker, and quickly the boy perks up. A short glance over and he finds the old Queen record spinning aimlessly, with the tone arm at the end of its songs.

Pushing himself off the bed, he walks over to the stand where Tony’s old record player sits. Taking the arm off- he flips the record over to side b, before returning it to its place.

The intro of Queen’s “Hammer to Fall” begins ringing from the speaker, and a small, satisfied smile grows on Y/n’s face.

He hums the beat, nodding his head with it while turning back to his bed- but something catches his eye.

Outside, there’s two figures standing out front. One eyebrow raises, Y/n slowly steps closer to the window.

“Who-?”

Recognizing his dad, dressed in his best suit, Y/n leans closer. The other figure isn’t quite as tall as Tony, and looks quite obviously nervous.

Y/n furrows his eyebrows.

….That’s Peter Parker.

What the hell is he doing at Stark’s house?

***

The sound of a backpack falling to the ground echoes through the foyer- and immediately it’s a sigh of relief. The sweet, sweet air conditioning here is heavenly in contrast to the one at school.

Y/n faintly feels a vibration in his pocket- grabbing it only to see multiple notifications coming from a group chat.

‘What are they on…’ he wonders, scrolling through countless messages worth of nonsense. He goes to reply, when-

“Y/n!”

His head snaps up at the voice, echoing out from the couch.

‘didn’t realize he was home…’ he looks back at the window, finding his father’s car parked in the driveway.

“Oh.”

Deciding the group chat can wait, the teen wanders to where his father sits.

“What’s up?” Immediately Y/n sees the scattered papers piling on top of one another on the coffee table, the short crystal glass filled halfway with rum. You’d think he’d wait until at least five, but that’s not the Stark way.

“I found a uh, form on the coffee table,” his voice sounds bored, tired, “something about textbooks for school?”

Y/n notices the forms sitting at the edge farthest from Tony, as if they’d been pushed away as far as they could go.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” He says awkwardly, looking at the dirty laces of his shoes, “it’s fine, I got it.”

“Well I can pay for them, if that’s what you’d like.” The eldest Stark shrugs, finally looking at his son from over the rim of his glasses.

Y/n almost feels embarrassed- when had he asked for that? He shakes his head, though it doesn’t hide the surprised look on his face.

“No, no you don’t have to-“

“Oh please, I got it, education is our future or something, right?” Tony shrugs, taking off his glasses and beginning to stand up from his chair, headed for the black leather wallet he’d left on the dining table.

Y/n isn’t quite sure why he’s now rushing to step in front of his dad- there isn’t much harm in the gesture after all. Maybe he just doesn’t want the weight of depending on his father for everything to lay on his shoulders. Either way, excuses are already falling from his mouth.

“You really don’t have to, dad-“

“You’re acting like I’m handing you the presidents treasury,” Tony deadpans, “besides, you don’t have a job.”

Y/n pauses.

“Wha- yes, I do-“ does his dad really not know about his job?

“Look, it doesn’t matter, I can get them used anyways-“

Before he can take one step closer, a nervous voice quips up from the doorway and ends the race for the wallet.

“Um, Mr. Stark?”

Curiously, Y/n and his dad snap their heads to see who has just joined them.

“Peter-?”

Peter Parker stands in the large door way, curled into himself with his backpack strap folded between his fist. His eyes are wide and questioning, looking between his classmate and his idol as if he had walked into the wrong room.

Suddenly, Tony’s shoulders drop- and he’s no longer interested in any textbook or wallet.

“Ah, Parker, didn’t think you’d make it.” He says bluntly, strutting away from his son and towards the obviously nervous boy.

“Here, sit down kid.”

With the man’s hand pressed into his shoulder blade, Peter has no choice but to follow him towards the various seats lining the dining table. And from the side- Y/n watches, absolutely lost.

After he had seen his father and Peter talking, he kept it to himself. Knowing the boy, he had simply assumed Peter was asking for an autograph or a picture, just like half of the city.

But now, he is in his house. At his table.

What the hell is this?

“Um,” Y/n’s voice sounds blunt, almost too similar to his father- who’s already sitting down across from Peter with his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised, as if this was a press conference.

Peter looks at him first, while his father throws a glance over his shoulder.

“What’s this?” Y/n asks, pointing to the strange teenage boy sitting down in his seat. Tony tiredly leans back in the chair, twisting to the side just slightly so he could look at Y/n head on.

“Y/n, this is Peter, Peter, this is Y/n.”

“Uh, yeah, we know each other.” Peter pipes up, giving Y/n the shortest, most awkward smile it seems he could muster. Y/n’s face stays blank.

“Yeah, I meant what is he doing here?”

Tony doesn’t seem at all phased by the rude undertones of Y/n’s question.

“Peter is gonna work as my intern for a little while, I’m training him.”

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow.

“For what-“

“Hey, quit interrupting, will you?” Tony dismisses him with the wave of his hand, turning around so he’s fully facing Peter. And Y/n lingers there, processing. He doesn’t like feeling like a shadow, not in his own home especially, but that’s the feeling that begins to overtake him.

Intern…?

He tries understanding what that means- there’s many possibilities. Assistant, maybe. But when he looks between his dad and his classmate one last time, seeing that he’s been nearly forgotten in the room (aside from the short glances from Peter’s end) he turns around to retreat, fists clenched.

His dad has had interns before, Peter likely won’t be much different. Possibly.

***

It’s been 5 weeks.

And multiple times, for each of those weeks, Peter has been somewhere mixed into the tangle of Tony Stark’s extensive schedule, far more entangled than Y/n has been for the past few years.

He shows up to dinner, trains at the Avenger’s tower. He comes knocking on the door randomly asking for life advice, or something- he’s everywhere.

It wasn’t even until week 4 that Y/n discovered the truth behind his sudden presence, when he saw the suit for the first time.

He has his own suit, god can you believe it?

Y/n watches on as Tony seems to easily bring Peter under his wing- hating how he has to avoid the burning green envy that burns his ears. How has Tony managed to take on the father figure role to Peter, when he barely manages that role with his own son?

‘It shouldn’t hurt this bad,’ y/n will think to himself, ‘you’re independent, relying on him will only make it harder in the long run.’

But he couldn’t help the hardened glare that arose every time he saw his dad, his own dad, bonding with someone else the way he had been wanting for what- 16 years?

Even now, sitting at the table, while the teen stares into the bowl of cereal in front of him, it’s just so irking to think about.

His spoon scrapes the edges of the bowl, gathering the now soggy cheerios into a cluster in its silver dip. Then, they get lost in his mouth. Rinse and repeat- he does it over and over while staring a blazing hole into the wall.

What is Peter doing that he can’t?

“Mr. Stark-“

Speak of the devil.

Y/n’s grip on the spoon tightens.

Peter comes stumbling into the room, out of breathe as if he sprinted all the way here. He doesn’t even knock anymore, Y/n thinks, he’s made himself at home.

“Kid? What’re you doing here?”

The nickname sends a shivering twitch through Y/n’s already sore muscles, tugging his face so he can’t control the annoyed look that comes through.

They’re talking to each other now, Peter trying to tell a story far too quickly for either of them to follow. Y/n blocks their voices out.

His chair scrapes against the floor, and he grabs his bag to leave.

“I’m going to school.” He says loudly, cutting off their conversation.

“Oh, I guess I gotta go too-“

“No,” Peter freezes, looking at Y/n curiously, “no, no stay here longer why don’t you? Practically your house.” Venom leaks from his words, the sarcasm so loud it makes Peter flinch.

“Y/n,” Tony groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. Y/n’s stare only hardens.

“What?” He snaps, now looking at his father.

“Really?” Is all that Tony manages, before Y/n is rolling his eyes and spinning on his heel.

“(F/n) is waiting for me.” He grumbles, snatching his phone and stomping out of the room.

How does his dad not get it? Is he so blind he can’t even see his own blatant favoritism?

The look of exhaustion displayed on his face would make you think hes working day and night having to put up with Y/n’s attitude- yet he’s unaware he’s exactly what’s causing it.

Y/n doesn’t want to blame Peter, in the back of his mind he knows that it’s his dad’s fault. But it feels like his father is being stolen.

But can it really be theft if there wasn’t much of him in the first place?

Y/n knows that he’s picking all the fights, starting all the arguments just so that twisted part of his head gets some satisfaction.

It shouldn’t be working so well.

The young Stark doesn’t return home until it’s just about dark outside, his backpack hanging loosely off his shoulders.

He walks the long halls of his home, past the doors that could either be a guest bathroom or a weapon closet. Even if there’s more entryways than doors, his father opting for large empty frames, he walks the length of it with no specific destination in mind.

He isn’t too sure where he’s headed anyways, considering he’s passed the way to his bedroom already.

Through half lidded eyes he guides himself through this maze of a house, bitter jealousy bubbling in his lungs. It’s such a haunting thought, a looming presence, and he wishes he could push it down the drain but it seems that he can’t.

“Stupid, stupid Peter…” he mumbles, hand grazing the wall beside him.

Ned’s voice still rings in his ears, breathy from how he had been exercising for most of the class.

“You don’t know what he looks like- what if he’s like seriously burnt?”

“I wouldn’t care, I would still love him for the person he is on the inside.”

Of course it caught their attention- Peter’s little crush on Liz wasn’t hard for most to notice.

“Peter knows Spider-Man!”

How horrible.

Across the room, Y/n’s head snapped to where the pair was on the gym floor- Peter’s jaw slacked. It didn’t matter how much he tried to quickly say otherwise- Flash already had slid down the climbing rope with another remark slick on the edge of his tongue.

And Y/n watched on, eye twitching, feeling how his friends slapped his arm in amusement.

“I can’t tell if he’s for real or not-“ F/n mumbled from next to him. Y/n’s eyes never tore away from the scene playing out ahead, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah,” and his eyes squeezed shut, “me neither.”

Y/n’s fists curl together, knuckles scraping the wall for a moment before he’s pulling away.

It’s so frustrating.

He’s walking further down the corridor, eyes sliding open just in time to catch a door left slightly ajar- and he pauses.

He’s passed the door many times, no doubt, but this time it’s different. There’s something pulling him inside, an unknown source that’s too intriguing to walk past.

Slowly, he pushes open the door. And there it is.

Old bins and cabinets with junk gadgets shoved inside- worn blueprints from his fathers old work. One eyebrow raises, cogs turning and grinding in his head.

There’s some things still in tact, some that have been broken apart and scattered about. Y/n kneels down to observe closer.

He feels the smooth surface of a metal clasp against his fingertips, grazing the jumbled objects.

This is his answer.

The backpack slides off his shoulders, thumping on the ground beside him. This room is one that his father doesn’t visit much anymore, now much more caught up in other things such as the Avengers, Peter, the scattered piles of paperwork that seem to constantly consume him.

And in the corner, there’s a bend in the wall partially hidden by a cabinet- if you were to tuck something inside, no one could see from the door frame.

Y/n already feels his mind blooming with ideas as he skims over the various parts and pieces in front of him.

If he can’t live up to his fathers standards, his fathers name,

then he’ll make his own.

***

Multiple nights pass, weeks go by and Y/n finds himself spending the time after dinner until midnight cooped up in Tony’s old gear room.

He likes to think it’s a family trait, something tying him to the Stark name, also known as his skill for parts. He can take a few glances at both his own notes as well as the old blueprints and suddenly have the necessary concept for a retractable weapon, built to strike out of an arm piece. And when he’s done, he simply drags it all into his tucked in corner- hidden until night falls again the next day.

Time not spent at school, occasionally in his room, or in his new lab- is now spent taking full advantage of the gym on the higher floors.

The Avengers don’t question it, barely even using it at the same time as him anyways. He’s planned it so no one is around to see the training he does, the work put in to not only muscle- but also skill.

He doesn’t have a vigilante name just yet- but perhaps that’s the fun in it. He’s totally anonymous.

And as the firm punching bag jerks beneath his incoming fist, he feels the creeping joy of power.

Y/n puts lots of thought into the first strike against the city- building an elaborate yet somewhat reckless attack plan, a formula.

No citizen will get hurt- it’s only the churning, growing need for revenge he wants so badly to be satisfied. Among the jumbled emotions, and new discoveries, he knows what he wants, and he knows just who he wants to be.

Y/n Stark may never be the millionaire superhero his father is- but he will be something. Something that no one will ever expect.

***

“A new vigilante seems to be on the loose, unidentified. They’ve struck many times already, but police have noticed that, interestingly enough, among the pattern of crime scenes none of the main public areas or citizens have been hit. Could this be the work of an Anti-hero, perhaps? Down at the Avengers Tow-“

The anchorman’s voice is cut off, mid sentence, and Tony holds the remote firmly.

Around him, on the expensive couches sit the Avengers themselves, but their faces are dulled by distress, their knuckles tense from a firm grip.

“We gotta find this guy,” Bruce sighs, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. Beside him, Natasha agrees.

“If we don’t catch them soon, people will start doubting us.” She says it like it’s so simple, lips pressed into a thin line. Steve groans.

“They aren’t gonna start doubting us-“ he tries, but no one seems to believe him.

“Oh really? Sounds like you’ve got some superstar solution then, huh?” Tony, always packed full of sarcasm, looks absolutely exasperated. He’s been looking tirelessly for this new ‘vigilante’ of the sorts - they don’t even seem to have a name. They work quickly and precisely, yet go at it with a powerful vengeance. Their skill- it’s almost something he wants to respect.

The group begins to speak again, switching between civil turn taking and overlapping words. They don’t even notice the figure standing by the door.

Y/n peaks his head around the door frame, watching these strong, powerful superheroes stressing over him. Oh, they just have no clue.

As they’re still talking, planning unknowingly within earshot of their own enemy- Y/n takes his notes. He listens, until finally he slips past the door and walks quietly down the hall as the sick, strong feeling of triumph sinks into his stomach.

He’s got them.

***

The rumbling fill of chaos echoes from all around- machines jittering, codes breaking, and a light flickers down the hall.

Y/n stands at the center of the room, looking around at one of his father’s many warehouses from all around- this one being stationed north of his own home state- Maine, USA.

His dad brought him here only a few times as a kid, once or twice perhaps. He always hated it- still does, actually, hence the small bombs scattered across the place.

It would be funny, to think that not even the Avengers have caught on to his pattern- but that may be jinxing it. Plus, he knows the common traits of each area he’s hit so far, the places holding the unjust power. This stop, though, he’s been waiting to finally hit.

“Stark Enterprises” - a sign once strung together in big letters, now laying at Y/n’s feet broken into pieces. The boy crouches down, picking up a chunk from the “E” and crushes it in his hands.

Under his mask, he grins.

His suit, not quite as advanced as those made by his father, fits him well. The sleeves are tighter, snugly wrapped around his biceps with streaks of purple running through the black material. Padding, like thin layers of armor, protect his torso and the pants are the most loose- cargo, with big pockets.

A mask is what pulls the whole thing together, though, concealing the entirety of his head underneath its black and purple coloring.

Littering his hands, and even weaved into the material all across, are the gadgets he’s spent so many hours on. Rings sealed into the gloves have enough sharp metal twisted together inside that when activated, spread into blades. In the pocket around his waist band- is a button, the button, that with one push turns this warehouse into a cloud of orange and yellow.

Y/n is still watching the crumbling sign fall from his palm, like grains of sand, when the door caves in behind him.

“Put your hands up, tough guy, we caught you.”

Captain America, confident as ever, bursts in at the front of the group with his shield held high. Behind him, Tony, Peter, Natasha and even Bruce waltz right in after him. For a second- a glimmer of pride washes through Y/n’s body, they brought 5 to a fight against 1- he must be special.

“Yeah, times up buddy.”

Seeing his father, dressed in the famous Ironman suit, reminds Y/n of the whole reason this started- and another twisted feeling knots itself in his stomach.

The moment he’s been waiting for.

They can’t see him as he smirks underneath the mask, deciding to toy with them just a bit. He doesn’t speak- no one’s heard his voice when spoken through the filtered material yet. It seems they’ll be the first.

Y/n’s head cocks to the side, and raises an eyebrow- something the Avengers can see through the imprint of his mask. A challenge.

Bruce’s battle cry cuts through the air- and suddenly the Hulk is charging. It startles Y/n for a moment, but quickly he steps to the side and lets the green giant crush the ground beside him. As Hulk gets back up, snarling and growling, Y/n is already grabbing a long beam, bent from where it fell with the rest of the Stark Enterprise’s sign, and strikes Hulk right in the gut.

The giant man stumbles slightly, yet still stomps forward. But Y/n isn’t in front of him.

“Hulk!” Natasha yells out, watching from across the room as Y/n comes from behind, mid air, wielding the same beam from before. Hulk is barely able to tilt his head an inch before the metal is crashing down into the area just below his head, and bruising his neck.

He’s out within a few seconds, stumbling around clumsily while black dots tease his vision. Then, he falls to the floor.

“Well shit.” Steve mutters, bending his knees like a bull preparing to charge. He should’ve known sending in Hulk with no preparations would be a bad an idea.

“Sending the big one in first, huh?” Y/n looks at them cockily, “do you see me as a threat, Ironman?”

Tony raises an eyebrow, “oh look at that, he can talk.” He doesn’t even skip a beat as his suit begins to whir, the arm unfolding so a mini blaster pokes out from the forearm.

The vigilante barely has time to react as strings of energy are thrown his way, jumping and dodging each of them narrowly. Tony doesn’t wait for him to regain his footing though, flying straight towards his figure.

Steve eyes Natasha, gesturing for her to move. The woman obliges, creeping around the fight so Y/n’s back is in front of her.

Ironman grabs Y/n by the shoulders, pushing down with such strong force that the latter is forced back a few steps. He holds the metal sleeves with a firm grip, and at first Tony doesn’t notice as the boy’s rings begin to scrape against the surface. Sparks fly like the touch of a welding torch, grazing the edges of Tony’s mask just in time for him to realize mini blades are beginning to prod at his suit. Y/n doesn’t hesitate to take the opportunity and shove the man away from him.

Natasha watches closely, seeing how Y/n stumbles from the impact. She jumps at him.

Y/n extends his arm in her direction, not even turning all the way around, and his rings grow from small blades to a sharp spiral of metal pointing right at Black Widow’s chest.

She freezes, he smirks.

Of course, it’s not his intention for someone to die. That’s not what he does. This, well, is simply defense.

“How about we get right to the point.” He says, slipping his free hand into one of the pouches around his waist band. Out with it comes a cylinder- black and sleek with some sort of dial built in, a bright red button on top.

Steve feels his stomach drop.

“Pick a number.”

Tony, seemingly unaware of the detonator to have just been introduced, rolls his eyes, he’s growing impatient.

“Alright, fine, 5- you wanna quit it with the games now?”

Big mistake.

Without skipping a step, Y/n is scrolling through digits on the small screen built into the detonator. It’s almost too quick for any of the Avengers to realize what he’s doing- and it’s far too late by the time they do.

“Alright, then.” Y/n presses the button.

Steve goes to lunge forward, tries to make a grab for the device, but he waited too long. The whole room rattles, and the section just to the left of them suddenly bursts. Bombs.

Y/n watches with a special glint in his covered eyes as everyone stumbles, yet his feet stay firmly planted in the ground. They’re startled, bits of the wall flying around and clattering against the floor. Peter snaps his head towards Y/n in shock.

“Who’s next?”

“Oh my god.” Peter mumbles, wide eyed. It’s the sound of his voice, his first time saying a word, that catches Y/n’s attention right away.

His teeth grind together, thumb smoothing over the button’s smooth surface. His mind mumbles, Do it again.

Staring into the large white panels of Peter’s mask, his guard is left fallen for just a moment too long. Tony sends one more blast his way.

A jolt of pain seers through Y/n’s thigh. The energy was strong enough to surpass the material of his pants, leaving a heavy ache in the area. Y/n glares.

“You asshole,” he grunts, spinning the dial with his thumb before slamming down the button.

Above them, part of the ceiling crumbles.

Bits of concrete come tumbling down, Peter and Natasha diving for cover. But Y/n is no where near finished.

“How many bombs are there-“ Peter asks to no one in particular. His question is soon to be answered.

“Let’s not wait to find out,” Steve grunts, sprinting to where his opponent stands at the opposite side of the room. Y/n feels the previous feeling of confidence, the smooth and cocky facade, slipping away. He wants to win.

Each of Captain America’s hits clang against metal couplets clasped to Y/n’s wrist- chaos ensues around them. Tony firing shots, Peter surrounding the fight, Natasha running for a hit at close combat- and hulk just starting to stir from his little nap.

But Y/n doesn’t let up- not until it’s too late.

A fiery blaze heads straight for him, straight for his face. It’s beginning to sizzle against his ears, he can feel it coming. But he doesn’t react in time, trying to defend himself from too many things at once.

The blast, coming from his own father’s hand, hits him.

His mask begins to spark, edges curling into themselves as slowly, Y/n feels the right side of his face being revealed.

His hand meets the wall, holding him up as he recovers from the impact. They haven’t seen him yet.

He hears Steve’s heavy breathing from behind him, something so familiar it almost tricks his mind. Then, Tony’s voice.

“It only takes a few hits, huh? If I knew that’s all it took I wouldn’t have wasted so much time.”

More sarcasm, Y/n almost laughs.

“Who are you.” Natasha doesn’t even make it sound like a question, her voice strong and firm.

Silence ensues, just for a moment, Y/n’s head is swimming.

Yet, over all the thoughts and noise, one thing screams loudest over the rest.

“Do. It.”

“Don’t you recognize me?” Y/n’s voice, no longer protected by a filter, is raspy and hoarse. He slowly turns around, head peaking out of the shadows.

“You know me already…”

Holy shit.

A loud clang echoes through the now dead silent room, the red white and silver shield rolling across the floor.

“…Y/n?”

Tony’s helmet folds into itself, revealing a sweaty face with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

A bitter smile is what he receives.

“Dad.”

Tony looks around, dumbfounded.

“I-“ he stutters, nearly speechless, “what- what the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Y/n steps forward, voice dry yet dripping with venom.

Tony chokes, “being an absolute moron, that’s what-“

Y/n barks out a rough, quick laugh. “Ooh, rough.” He rasps. Steve steps forward, putting a hand onto Tony’s shoulder and pulling him back. It’s like a warning, silent communication because next, he’s the one to step forward.

“Y/n…” the words die on the tip of his tongue, throat running dry, but he still tries, “what- I mean, why?”

Y/n has begun to pace slightly, taking slow steps around the shocked group. He peels the mask away from his face.

“Yknow, most people tend to turn to the worst of their options when in a dark time,” he says smoothly, feeling each and every set of eyes watching while he walks. Hulk watches through blurred vision, completely disoriented.

“I mean, hate to give you the classic origin story and everything, but…”

“Hold on,” the thoughts are almost visible, loud and heavy in Tony’s head, “is this about something I did?”

So he’s finally getting it.

“What could Tony have possibly done?” Asks Natasha, and Y/n looks at his father directly.

“You don’t care, ok, that’s what-“ his voice is breathy, and he scowls, “You can’t even talk to your own kid, Stark. It’s like you don’t realize what I am, to you- what you are to me!” Anger rises with each word that shoots like poison from Y/n’s mouth.

Tony gets defensive, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. “That’s not true, I know damn well you’re my kid-“

“Oh really? Cause you seem to have it a bit mixed up.” Y/n’s eyes flicker to Peter’s frame, and everyone tenses.

“Is…is this about Peter?”

At the mention of his name, Peter tears off his mask, a concerned, heavy look on his face.

“I, Y/n it’s not like that-“ he tries, only to be interrupted.

“Yknow,” Y/n’s voice sounds so pained, “I always thought maybe you aren’t too upfront with your affection. For years, ok, I would wake up, go to school, come back, and go to bed all without saying more than a few words to you. Years, dad.” A lump is forming in his throat, but it’s too late to turn back now. “But then, out of nowhere, someone else comes into the picture and suddenly you’re taking him to lunch, you’re picking him up from school, basically spending way more time with him, than with me.”

Bold, bitter, and wavering- Y/n doesn’t stop. Even as his father, his classmate, the people he’d grown up with thinking were like family, just watch with feeling burning in their eyes.

“Y/n,”

“You made it look so easy with him.”

“Hey, kid, c’mon-“

“Are you serious?!” Y/n yells in disbelief. “Are you gonna tell me I’m wrong? Is that it? I’m just exaggerating, or what-“

Tony straightens his posture, swallowing hard.

Y/n’s face almost crumbles from the way his fathers face wavers. But he just doesn’t stop.

“You can be the greatest hero in the world,” Y/n breathes, sweat sparkling around the frame of his face, “you can put on a face for the interviews, and train Peter to perfection,” a step closer, “but don’t forget that I’ve always been here too.”

Y/n’s voice sounds so dark, unfamiliar and breaking, it’s gone raspy from the pounding drum of his heart beat.

Ringing silence once more. 6 melting souls standing in the waste of their own troubles.

Y/n feels budding tears threatening to spill.

“And now look what we’ve done.”

#x male reader #Avengers x male reader #Male stark ready #Tony starks son #Avengers x vigilante reader #Peter Parker #tom!peter Parker x male reader #66 recs&replies #Pls say you like it

196 notes · View notes

percheduphere · 9 months

Note

How’d ya think people would react to finding out Mobius is with Loki?

Like I’m writing a thing where Mobius is working with Fury as a TVA-S.H.I.E.L.D. Team up and Mobius is just hiding that fact lol. I feel like if he let that slip, Fury would either put him under surveillance or try that thing Nat did to Clint in Avengers.

But idk, what do you think?

Hey anon! Sorry it took so long to reply!

Honestly, it depends on the time you're going for and the specific characters who would be involved. For instance, if the Avengers found out as a team, then it would be in-tone for Marvel for everyone to be shocked and have a witty one-liner as they absorb the news.

Hiding the truth is bound to piss some characters off, especially if they develop a relatively swift trust with Mobius in the beginning. Steve, Clint, Fury, and Bruce would be very upset with Mobius and might give him the cold shoulder a bit before warming up again and re-establishing trust.

Tony will be surprised and take this news in stride after bestowing Mobius some kind of nickname alluding to his relationship with Loki, a nickname that nods at the love interest falling for the villain. Mobius would probably apologize to Tony for Loki tossing him off the building, saying, "He told me himself, 'He lost it. It wasn't tactical. Bad day for everyone, all around, really."

Natasha would probably figure it out before Mobius either comes forward or let's slip. She wouldn't be surprised and would outline how she figured it out based on things Mobius has said and his mannerisms talking about Loki. Of all the Avengers, I think Natasha and Mobius are the most like-minded in terms of studying people and using what they've analyzed to their advantage. I think they would get along quite well for all that Natasha holds herself as cold while Mobius is warm.

2012 Thor would be in disbelief but also hopeful upon learning his brother has friends of his own and someone who loves him. Contrary to popular belief, I don't think Thor would give him the shovel talk. Thor knows Loki can defend himself well-enough. Instead, I think Thor would seek Mobius out privately and ask all sorts of questions about how Mobius's Loki is doing and "how he did it?" Among Thor's questions would be, "What could I have done differently?"

#asks #loki #mobius #lokius #loki headcanons #loki meta #my meta #the avengers #thor #black widow #natasha romanoff

115 notes · View notes

askchilchuck · 2 months

Text

Hey, how can I help you?

(Please read below before interacting)

Hi! My name is Sophie! This blog has gotten enough traction that I feel the need to lay some ground rules for it.

1) This blog is intended to be PG13 so I don’t have to exclude younger fans from participating. I will not be answering anything that wouldn’t fly in canon, or is adjacent to it. Anything explicitly sexual, or can be construed that way will not be answered.

2) Nothing related to suicide please. I tried playing it off the first time but between myself and some people around me, even the “KYS 🥰🥰🥰” jokes really aren’t funny, especially recently. Asks including it will not be answered.

3) No firearms. Related to rule 2.

4) Please no spammy asks. I’m honestly not sure how to answer them, and they clog up both the blog itself and the main tags.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun to bully him, but these things cross a line for me. Thank you for understanding.

If you’re an RP blog, you’re more than welcome to interact! Even if you’re not a Dunmeshi blog! I don’t always have the time to do reblog chains, though, so please don’t feel bad if I miss you there. It’s easiest for me if you submit RP as an ask when the box is open. Sorry for any inconvenience this may cause. You can also DM this account for private RP if you’d like, but I may not respond promptly.

IN LIGHT OF DUPLICATE CHARACTERS:

I think that’s awesome and also really funny. I encourage it. We’ve already got a loose MCU/multiverse plot line going on so we can totally make it work, too. Hell yeah. Hilarious. Love that. /gen

Blog lore:

This blog takes place loosely post canon. I try to avoid spoilers, but little things here and there are inevitable. Chilchuck has made up with his wife and they’re currently working on their relationship. Chilchuck is also in therapy. This is for a few reasons.

1) I don’t think he’d actually answer any of these if he wasn’t.

2) He doesn’t talk about it a lot, but it was one of his wife’s conditions before giving the relationship another go.

3) He just. Should be in general and I have control of it so it’s happening lol

My Chil is bi, but in the middle-aged “everyone’s had gay thoughts before” kinda way, cause I think it’s funnier that way. He also gets high from time-to-time now that he’s not dungeneering anymore.

Folks kept turning him into different things/animals, so goldstar/⭐️ anon gave him an amulet to put a stop to that.

Squeaker also used a device to prevent any crab transformations specifically from occurring, as well as ejecting all crabs within like. 10 miles or something (I’ll double check this later.)

There’s also a cult stalking him for some reason.

The TVA (Marvel) is loosely involved as well as previously mentioned. Squeak fixed it (kind of).

Also, Chil’s knowledge of the blog/Tumblr varies depending on what would be funnier, but generally he’s aware of the internet. He only uses his phone to answer your asks, though. He has no idea how to do anything else and has no desire to. This means he doesn’t fact check people or knows anything about the greater internet experience. No one knows how he got the phone, or how it’s holding a charge. Don’t worry about it.

(It’s 5am rn and I’m too tired to link relevant posts, I’ll get to it later I promise.)

I myself don’t talk in the main posts, unless it’s tagged #ooc. Otherwise, I’ll always talk in the tags if I’ve got something to say.

Emoji anons:

•⭐️/goldstar anon

•🦉/owl anon

•👻/ghost anon

•♡/heart anon

No other heart variants have been claimed. Also, heads up to all emoji anons, I’m going to start using just one tag for your asks going forward to make tagging easier! So I’ll just be using the emoji variant from here 💖

If you want to hang out with me in a less censored area, I also run @chilfucked which is 18+ only.

I also reserve the right to update these rules as time goes on, so please check them again before submitting when the ask box is open again. Thank you!

#ooc #blog rules

45 notes · View notes

raccoonfallsharder · 2 months

Note

Hi there! This is probably such a silly question, so I'm sorry in advance, but in your fics, how long is a "cycle"?

I've gathered that a rotation is the equivalent of about a day (I think? lol) . Is a cycle the intergalactic equivalent of like a week or maybe a month in your fics? I originally thought a year, but in WAtG its stated that Jo "crosses paths with the Yondu Clan once every fifteen cycles or so." So a year seems like the wrong assumption on my part haha

Thank you ♡

hey honeycomb! these are SUCH FUN questions because i am such an UNHINGED NERD, especially about time and trying to make things make sense in space lol (also omg please never apologize for asking questions?? ever?? you’re a delight. curiosity is beautiful and giving other people a chance to explain their thoughts/loves/interests is a gift you give whenever you ask)

so first of all it’s worth noting that i’m pretty sure in at least one of the games, it’s the opposite — a cycle is like a day, i think? and a rotation is a week or a month? (i used to know this with more certainty because last year, i had researched obsessively to find out if there was a singular canonical way of measuring the passage of time in marvel-outer-space. fyi the short answer is no). worth noting: this is how i thought of time when i was writing ᯓ⋆｡°✩practice because that takes place in the eidos universe but i deliberately didn't dwell on it too long so people could interpret the length of time however they wanted.

now, my understanding is that in the mcu, this is inverted. i had read that the mcu GOTG writers think of a rotation as being about a day and a cycle being about a week, so that is what i use in almost all of my other fics (especially the longer ones). sometimes in oneshots i default to day and week just for ease of understanding, especially for readers who may just stumble upon the story without having gotten used to my quirks.

now that’s the short answer and you can feel free to bail if you don’t want to read about the stupid amount of time i put into thinking about this lol. i swear I won’t hold it against you. for fucks sake SAVE YOURSELF

tsk. should've run.

as mentioned, i use “rotation” to indicate about a day, and “cycle” to indicate about a week. i also use “multicalendar circumrotations” or “circs” for a year-ish which is halfway made-up (the gotg holiday special mentions the multicalendar and i was like “i need a word that isn’t rotation or cycle or revolution to go with this” lol).

i also broke rotations into three shifts. for my purposes there are usually two wake shifts and one sleep shift per rotation, but i imagine some lifeforms require different amounts of rest and wakefulness - so while the start and end of shifts are standardized, how they are designated really varies by crew.

i think this was about all i had figured out when i was writing Window *:･ﾟ✧* - I think I had maybe approximated a cycle at around 8-9 days and a circ at about a year and a half. but when i started writing cicatrix.⋆☁︎:･꧂ i was referencing longer lengths of time a lot more often (and needed at least a mental guide for things like decades and ccertain chunks of years), so i expanded on my time measurements a lot more thoroughly (see below).

i don’t have anything equivalent to months but at some point i was like “i need to indicate something more than a handful of cycles and less than a circ” and so i added quarter-circs to my lexicon ‘cause months didn’t make sense in the context of a sort of “intergalactic standard” of time measurement.

there was a time when i thought about breaking down hours and minutes and shit too but then i was honestly like “dae that’s fucking bonkers. stop girl” so i decided that most universal translators are capable of doing the basic math required to calculate smaller units of time across languages lol.

a rare glimpse of dae notes/references from the top of my cicatrix notes document:

rotation: 30 hours (10/10/10 shifts) cycle: 10 rotations (300 hours) (1.79 weeks) quarter: 10 cycles circumrotation: 40 cycles (71.6 weeks) (1.38 years) 10 years = 7.26 circumrotations 4.13 years = 3 circs

anyway that's it i think, that's everything, it's ridiculous and i'm ridiculous and also thanks for giving me the opportunity to be a total loser about this. i am very cool and normal

i truly do appreciate the question honestly. may your day be full of morning glories and your night be full of good movies and tasty popcorn

#rfh asks #hyperfixation what hyperfixation #reference #rfh fic

30 notes · View notes

newx-menfan · 2 months

Text

NYX # 1 Review

*Spoilers!*

After weeks of waiting, spoilers, comic leaks , and “The Krakoan’s” identity being very brutally obvious…it’s FINALLY HERE guys! The CLOSEST we will probably EVER get the a NXM book!! JK!!😆

The issue starts with Kamala monologuing about her recent acceptance to an after school program in NY to Bruno, who is currently in Amsterdam. (I’ll fully forewarn everyone and be transparent that I only read Kamala when G Willow Wilson was writing the book 😬…so Kamala fans MAY need to help me out a bit, lol)

Kamala literally runs into Sophie and they go to Prodigy’s lecture…(no offense to Prodigy…but Sofia’s a bit right…the lecture COULD use a little more finessing, lol…)

Sophie gives him shit and Kamala realizes she’s friends with the “cool kids” now, who pointedly go out of their way to embarrass and humiliate their teachers (not that Bruno or Miles isn’t cool, Kamala…)

It’s interesting that in some ways DAVID is going the academic, “through proper channels” route…but it also makes sense considering some of his characterization during NXM: AX…(and why a certain character is the PERFECT FOIL for him, in this storyline!…)

David- who, while calling out characters like Josh…was also a bit of a “rule follower” in a way that certain OTHER characters DEFINITELY weren’t…

Any, Sophie convinces Kamala to go clubbing with her and they run into Anole bartending. Anole gets accosted by some patrons screaming about a mutant “terrorist”. (Also…I really LOVE Sophie swearing all the time 😂🤣…I guess her polite way of sassing has changed after “Riot at Xavier’s” and being dead lol)

Kamala and Sophie get kicked out of the club while defending Anole (I guess they’re not having a “brat” summer….☹️). Kamala then dons her Ms Marvel suit and calls David…sorry… Professor Alleyne… to help unlock a phone (the interaction IS super adorable!) and we learn that the guys at the club are committing crimes and pinning it on mutants. (Or so it would SEEM! Foreshadowing!!)

While on the phone, Laura attacks and brakes Kamala’s phone, because Laura is kind of a dick, telling her she’s chasing “ghosts”. (This is why Laura doesn’t have consistent friends guys 😒🤣)

Laura’s characterization…isn’t great… (Laura you were LITERALLY ON a teen X-Men group…you LOST the right to call anyone “kids”!)

Kamala then tells Laura she needs to get a life (which is kind of TRUE…).

FINALLY…after all the filler…we get to the STAR!…who people have been desperately WAITING FOR…

KRAKELLION! (Sorry @ thestomping-ground …but I’m stealing the name because “the Krakoan” sounds terrible lol)

In one of the COOLEST, MOST AWESOME panels ever (I am really NOT biased)…Krakellion ARISES…ready to enact revenge on the FLATSCANS!!

In HANDS DOWN, ONE OF THE BEST SCENERY CHEWING MONOLOGUES EVER WRITTEN (told you, I’m not biased!), Hellion more or less just calls into question Kamala’s movie to comic book mandated retcon… (Feel like he should have leaned more into the “Emma/Ms Marvel call out of 2006”…but I am not judging, Hellion…)

Kamala then saves the helpless flatscans on the subway- but is then forced to reckon with the fact that humans will ONLY support her because they don’t know she’s a mutant. The minute she’s outed- that hero worship will ultimately go away. ☹️

Kamala then meets up with Sophie and they talk and have coffee (Wait a minute… Kamala is an inhuman too? I thought that couldn’t happen and that’s why Quicksilver had such an identity crisis while married to Crystal??…I told you guys I’m kind of out of the loop on Schrödinger's newest mutant/inhuman…🐈‍⬛😬😂🤣); Kamala also having a mutant friend is adorable…

We transition to the Krakellion walking in some shadowy penthouse, giving Empath shit on the telecom (Brownoses shouldn’t throw stones, Empath! Also Hellion did LOTS of COOL stuff in NXM, OkAy Empath?!) and we see the new….Hellfire Club?…Hellions?…Council??…. Hopefully that gets cleared up in the next issue….

(Also…I bet you 100 bucks Empath FORCED Hellion to drop the name “Hellion” because he couldn’t stand being “Hellion and the Hellions” to Julian lol- Not Julian’s fault he picked the superior name! 😂🤣🤣)

(Also- can anyone tell me what the QR code is- it won’t scan on Kindle and I am waiting on my paper copies ☹️)

Review:

Obviously… I am biased; but this has been one of the few X-books I have been excited about in a while!

I know people LOVED “Krakoa era” X-Men… but I am personally happy to see return to a more “Astonishing/Mutant Town/Morrison X-Men” type of story.

I am also happy to see a return to a more “Tom Taylor/Tamaki” street level Laura; as much as I whined about Taylor’s representation in the past… Laura really does work better when she’s more low key…

After years of sitting through “Wolverine and the X-Men” style books…it’s nice to see characters like Prodigy or Hellion being treated AS ADULTS and with narrative care.

The writing is fine; there are moments where I think it could be tighter, but I do think it definitely has its moments and will definitely get better as the writing team goes on and gets more used to the characters voices.

I KNOW people are going to complain that this seems more like a stealth Kamala solo…and while I DO think there’s some validity to that argument (it’s focus is DEFINITELY on Kamala and getting stubborn “Inhuman fans” like me to accept her as a mutant….); I am mostly fine with it, since that seems to be what it takes for fans to get a “New X-Men: Academy X” book.

The biggest complaint I have is unsurprisingly Laura- we’re still sadly in the “Talon-esque”/ “Laura written as Wolverine” representation. Hopefully this gets better the more they feature her…but I do fear this era

will be very disappointing for Laura fans (I haven’t heard much about the Gabby/Laura mini either!)….

Question/Theories:

More and more I am thinking Laura and Julian are in cahoots- possibly Laura didn’t want Kamala involved because of her emotional connection with Julian…. It may just be that she wants to try and reform him; to give him the same chance he gave her…but I think more than likely she’s using Julian to spy on Empath. (Also because I can’t envision Manuel and Julian standing each other for more than five minutes lol)

Is Tag helping Hellion? I feel like Tag SHOULD be helping him, since they’re bros and Tag literally got blown up in a school bus… (Also his powers are cool…)

The BIGGEST question is- Is Hellion blasting “brat” through AirPods under that helmet? Is he having a “brat summer”? Is “Mean Girls” his favorite song? …(someone needs to make a “Hellion/brat YouTube fan vid” like they used to in the 2000’s 😂🤣… @romulanslutempire …?)

30 notes · View notes

kingofbodyrolls · 5 months

Text

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | eighteen

🐴Chapter summary: Jungkook and your sister gets married and you can’t wait to marry the love of your life too.

🐴Chapter title: By My Side

🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc

🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters.

🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst

🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

🐴Chapter warnings: so much love, so much fluff, so many kisses, it’s wedding season yay, explicit description of sex; oral (female and male receiving), marking/biting (I swear they are not animals lol), dirty/sweet talk, multiple orgasms, spanking, nipple play, rough(er) sex, slight exhibitionism, caught in the act 👀

🐴Status: completed 🥳

🐴Word count: 14.7k

🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @antisocial-mochi267,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “By My Side” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?]

🐴Author’s note: how are you all doing? We’re almost at the end of the road and I just wanted to say how thankful I am for each and everyone of you guys 😭💖 Especially to all of you that leave me nice, sweet, sad or yelling comments— truly you mean so much to me!! I’m sorry that some of you have dropped off, or stopped commenting, but, ah, it’s okay, even though it makes me wonder if you don’t like it anymore (which is also fine). I get too much into my head, lol. But I just wanted to say that I’m really grateful! Chapter 19 is the last ‘official’ chapter, as chapter 20 is the epilogue (with the Q&A I really hope that you’ll participate in /comment or ask/ otherwise it’s fine, I’ve already got a few questions lined up!). Thank you for joining me on this wild ride 💖 The song that Jimin is playing on the piano is “Love Somebody” by Lukas Graham.

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

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

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

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

“Gonna throw my arms around you And hold you tight Gonna throw my arms around you We’re gonna dance all night” - ‘By My Side’ by Rebecca Lavelle

Everything is just going wrong.

The relentless heat pulls down on you like a vengeful sun god, threatening to sap every ounce of strength from your weary body until you collapse, a mere casualty of its unyielding fury.

As the high summer sun reigns supreme once more, you find yourself marveling at the passage of time, unable to comprehend that you’ve already spent two entire years in this place you call home.

Amidst the chaos of the ranch, the sheep have staged a daring escape from their paddock, their wooly forms darting erratically across the landscape. With determination etched on your faces, you, Jimin, Soo-ah, and Ara scramble to corral them, matching their frantic energy step for step, while Yoongi works tirelessly to mend the broken fence.

The urgency of your sister’s impending wedding hangs in the air, but the chaos of the ranch seems determined to steal the spotlight. Despite the pressing need to assist her in her preparations, you find yourself ensnared in the unpredictable drama unfolding outside. With a mixture of amusement and concern, you watch as your sister, clad in her elegant wedding gown, bravely joins the fray, chasing after a wayward sheep. The sight is both comical and endearing, though you can’t help but worry that her gown may carry the brunt of the day’s unexpected escapades, threatening to pollute the perfection of her special day.

“Jessi, get back inside and finish getting ready!” You shout over the clamor of bleating sheep, your voice laced with urgency as you dart between the animals, determined to block their escape routes and guide them back to safety.

She grumbles, her frustration palpable in the sweltering air. “No, everything’s a mess. I can’t in good conscience sit and wait for everyone to fix all of this,” she insists, gesturing emphatically to the banners and decorations hanging around the property, clinging on for dear life as if fighting against the relentless heat themselves.

“The cake hasn’t even arrived yet,” she starts, frustration evident in her voice, “and the food is still nowhere to be seen. The caterers are running late too, of course.”

With sheer determination, she seizes a sheep and drags it through the chaos of the yard, guiding it back into the pen with a triumphant grunt.

“Some of our friends are stuck in sudden traffic, on roads that are normally as deserted as ghost towns,” she hisses through clenched teeth while securing the gate, “it’s like everything is spiraling into a fucking disaster!”

“Look, I understand, but it would be a huge help if you could just head back inside, get ready, and make sure nothing happens to that dress,” you plead with your sister, feeling the weight of the chaotic situation. Behind you, Jimin appears, a silent but supportive presence.

“We’ll handle the sheep,” he reassures your sister with a warm smile, gently nudging her towards the house, but she remains adamant, refusing to heed reason.

“No,” she insists, determination blazing in her eyes as she rushes to corral another sheep, “We sort out these sheep first, then I’ll finish getting ready.”

You watch her dart around in slippers, makeup half-done, and hair neatly pinned, a whirlwind of determination amidst the chaos. It’s a surreal scene, part comedy, part calamity, and wholly ridiculous, you can’t help but think to yourself.

Jimin rolls his eyes in amused exasperation, and you both stand there, transfixed, watching your stubborn sister darting about like a whirlwind. It’s a spectacle of determination amidst the chaos, and you can’t help but be amazed by her tenacity.

“Should we do something to stop her, before she ruins her dress?” Jimin whispers, his concern evident in the furrow of his brows and the earnestness in his voice, as you both contemplate whether to intervene or let her stubborn determination play out.

“I don’t think we can do anything and I doubt either Jungkook or Jessi are too concerned about the dress at this point,” you chuckle, reminiscing about your sister's quip during her dress fittings, when she joked about Jungkook’s eagerness to tear it off. “But hey, at least it’ll make for a memorable story,” you add with a grin, watching as Jessi continues her frantic chase around the yard.

“Come on, let’s lend a hand and wrangle these wooly escape artists,” you suggest, a hint of determination in your voice. “We’re cutting it close to the ceremony, and I’d rather not be chasing sheep in a fancy dress any longer than necessary.” With a quick glance at Jimin, you dash off in pursuit of a particularly elusive sheep, the hem of your purple satin dress swishing around your ankles as you go.

With Jimin and Soo-ah at your heels, you plunge into the chaos of scampering sheep. Together, you dart and dive amidst the wooly fugitives, your hearts pounding in sync with the rhythm of the chase. With practiced precision, you snatch up stray sheep, your movements a blur of determination and adrenaline. Each successful capture is a victory, a step closer to restoring order to the ranch and salvaging the wedding day.

As you catch your breath, you scan the scene before you, noting your sister’s approach. Her once pristine dress is now adorned with streaks of dirt, a testament to her relentless pursuit of wayward sheep. Despite the disarray, her determined stride speaks volumes—this is a woman on a mission, unwilling to let even the chaos of runaway livestock derail her wedding day.

“You look like you’ve been wrestling with the sheep,” you tease, gesturing to the dirt stains on her dress, but she just shrugs it off with a determined grin.

“Are we done with the sheep now?” She asks, a wide grin on her face, a stark contrast to the chaos around you.

“I believe so,” you breathe out, your legs trembling slightly. You can’t help but note how out of shape you are.

“Alright. I’ll head back in and let Ha-rin work her magic on me,” she smiles at you before disappearing into the house.

Soo-ah and Ara comes bounding after her, declaring, “We need to get ready too!”

Both you and Jimin share a laugh at her eagerness, your hands finding each other naturally amidst the chaos.

“You look absolutely dashing in that suit,” you murmur, your fingers gently tracing the lines of his collar before drawing him closer for a tender kiss.

As you catch your breath, Jimin’s hand finds its place on your hips, a gentle reassurance amidst the chaos. “You look absolutely stunning in that satin dress,” he murmurs, his eyes alight with admiration as he drinks in your beauty.

His gaze intensifies, tracing the contours of your form with an unspoken hunger. In a moment of raw desire, he leans in for another kiss, his lips seeking the warmth of yours with a passion that ignites the air around you.

“Ahem,” as Yoongi clears his throat behind you, his interruption breaks the intimate moment with Jimin, drawing your attention away from his embrace. With a blush rising to your cheeks, you pivot to meet Yoongi’s gaze, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement at being caught in such a tender exchange.

Yoongi’s furrowed brow accentuates his concern as he addresses the emerging problem, “I’ve finished fixing the fence, but should we let Jessi know about the horses breaking out?”

Your sudden pivot towards Yoongi, eyes wide with concern, mirrors the rush of hopelessness engulfing you. “Shit, they have?” You blurt out, your voice tinged with urgency.

Jimin’s expression mirrors your own mix of surprise and weariness. “Definitely don’t tell her that,” he agrees, his voice tinged with a hint of dread.

With a frustrated grumble, you snatch the hair elastic from your locks, securing the hem of your dress around the thickest parts of your thighs. Thankfully, you’re in boots, not the heels meant for the wedding. “We have to round them up too,” you sigh, starting towards the stables and the adjacent paddock.

As you, your boyfriend, and Yoongi approach the paddock, it becomes evident that the fences remain intact; rather, it seems someone neglected to secure the gate.

You release a frustrated sigh. “Such a silly mistake. It’s probably one of the city guests,” you grumble, eyeing the horses as they gallop around the yard in front of the stables.

“At least they’re just out here,” Yoongi says, his voice tinged with a touch of defeat, “so we don’t have to saddle up a horse to get them.”

“Let’s get to work then,” Jimin says, his determination cutting through the weariness as he strides towards Marshmallow, while you head over to Mikrokosmos. Yoongi takes charge of Cinnamon and the other horses, a sense of urgency in his movements.

The three of you work in unison, coaxing and guiding the remaining horses back into their stalls. With each successful capture, you can’t help but feel the weight of the day pressing down on you. If it were your wedding day, you’d likely be a wreck with all these mishaps, but your sister’s calm demeanor is a stark contrast. She’s handling it with remarkable ease, almost too casual given the circumstances.

“Alright, now that we’ve sorted out the horse situation, let’s head down to the terrace and ensure everything’s set up perfectly before we check on Jessi,” Jimin suggests, a warm smile gracing his lips as he takes your hand, leading the way to the terrace.

As Yoongi trails closely behind, you descend to the terrace, greeted by a scene far from the envisioned perfection. String lights hang precariously, as if ready to tumble, the floral archway stands incomplete, and the chairs remain stacked, untouched.

“Who the fuck thought this half-assed setup was acceptable?” You exclaim, gesturing to the haphazard scene that falls far short of wedding readiness.

“We better get it sorted, and quick,” Yoongi declares, already diving into action to rectify the situation. He swiftly begins readjusting the string lights, wrapping them securely around the wooden poles on the terrace.

You stride purposefully towards the archway, the symbolic heart of your sister’s impending union with Jungkook. Your hands reach for the scattered roses, their rich red hue a testament to passion and enduring love. Though not Jessi’s favorite, she chose them for their timeless significance in romance. With meticulous care, you intertwine the roses through the wire of the archway, each blooming a promise of the love that will be declared beneath its embrace.

As you weave the roses through the archway, your thoughts drift to the upcoming wedding ceremony. It’s endearing that Jessi and Jungkook chose this picturesque terrace for their special day. With a wistful smile, you envision your own future nuptials with Jimin, the love of your life. Your gaze falls to your hand, where the glimmering purple gemstone of your ring catches the sunlight, casting a kaleidoscope of colors. You wonder, will your wedding day unfold flawlessly, bathed in perfection, or will it, like today, be a delicate balance of chaos and charm?

Jimin meticulously arranges the chairs in front of the archway, and you find yourself stealing glances at him, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence. The mere thought of marrying him sends a flurry of butterflies dancing in your stomach, anticipation and love intertwining in a beautiful symphony.

As Yoongi finishes with the string lights, he joins you at the archway, carefully weaving more lights into its frame. The vision of the terrace illuminated in the soft glow of the lights fills your mind with anticipation, imagining how enchanting it will look as night falls.

“Should I add some light to the piano too?” Yoongi’s voice breaks through the bustling scene, his eyes flickering between you and Jimin. Jimin responds with a nod, a smile gracing his lips, affirming the idea with silent approval.

“That’s a brilliant idea,” you remark, a glint of excitement dancing in your eyes. You adore the thought of Jimin serenading the wedding guests with his piano. His decision to bring it here fills you with anticipation, especially knowing he’ll grace the event with his melodious voice. Each note he plays and every lyric he sings has a magical way of captivating your soul, tugging at the strings of your heart with its angelic resonance.

Just the thought is already setting your heart aflutter, anticipating the magic it will bring to the celebration.

As the thorn pricks your finger, a sharp curse escapes your lips, its sting piercing through the bustling preparations. Glancing down, you find a tiny droplet of blood welling up at the tip of your thumb. Grimacing at the inconvenience, you apply pressure to staunch the flow, though it continues to seep through. Jimin’s concerned voice breaks through the chaos, drawing his attention to your injury. “Did you cut yourself?” He inquires, his eyes scanning your hand with worry.

“Yeah, these damn roses,” frustration drips from your words as you lament the troublesome roses, a hint of exasperation coloring your tone. Jimin’s gentle touch on your hand soothes the irritation, his concern palpable as he inspects the injury. With a relieved sigh, you notice the bleeding has ceased, a silent testament to his comforting presence. “I don’t think I want roses at our wedding,” you quip, a wry smile tugging at your lips amidst the chaos.

“I want anything you want,” he murmurs, his voice a soft reassurance amidst the chaos, “if you don’t want roses, we’ll find some other flowers.” His words carry a promise, a vow to prioritize your desires above all else, igniting a warmth in your heart that transcends the fleeting mishaps of the day.

You smile at your fiancé, a surge of affection welling up within you, and you lean in to seal the moment with a tender kiss, a silent promise of love and unity amidst the whirlwind of preparations.

“Looks like everything’s finally falling into place,” Yoongi remarks with a satisfied grin, stepping back to admire the twinkling string lights, casting a warm glow over the terrace.

You all pause to soak in the scene before you; the chairs adorned with soft white fabric, carefully tied with dashes of vibrant red, adding a touch of elegance. The archway bursts with the crimson hue of roses, their lush green leaves accentuating their beauty. Everywhere, string lights dance in the gentle breeze, casting a warm glow, even delicately draped around the microphone stationed before the piano, completing the enchanting ambiance.

“I think we’re done too. Great work, everyone!” You beam with pride, clapping for Yoongi and Jimin, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over you. With the decorations sorted, your attention shifts to the remaining tasks: ensuring the food, cake, and guests are all in order, and most importantly, attending to your sister’s needs on her special day.

“Could one of you give Jungkook a quick check-in? I’ll go see how Jessi’s doing,” you suggest, a warm smile gracing your lips as you loosen the hair tie around your dress, allowing it to cascade back into its original position.

“Alright, I’ll catch up with my brother,” Jimin volunteers, planting a tender kiss on your lips before you make your way into the house.

As you step into your sister’s room, Ha-rin is meticulously tending to her, perfecting both her hair and makeup. The sight that meets your eyes takes your breath away: your sister’s hair is elegantly styled, cascading in a charming bob adorned with delicate flowers, while her makeup adds a subtle glow, accentuating her natural beauty with finesse.

“You look absolutely stunning,” you whisper, your voice quivering with emotion. You fight back tears, determined not to smudge your own makeup. Save it for later, you remind yourself, knowing there will be countless moments ahead to let your emotions flow.

“Thank you,” she replies with a smile, but there's a hint of unease in her eyes, a flicker of something unspoken.

“What’s wrong?” You inquire, a mix of curiosity and concern lacing your words.

“Well,” she begins, her voice tinged with disappointment, “the caterer called. They can’t make it. There’s some kind of accident on the road, making it impossible for them to get here.” Your eyes widen, and your heart sinks to the floor at the news.

“Which also means that some of the guests are stuck in said traffic,” she adds, her voice deflated, mirroring your own sinking feeling.

“Oh no,” you murmur, sinking onto the edge of her bed, the weight of the unexpected news heavy on your shoulders.

“I can whip up some quick food for everybody,” Ha-rin offers, her nimble fingers deftly placing more flower pins in your sister’s hair, her voice a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty.

“Really?” Jessi’s eyes widen with a mix of surprise and gratitude. “If it’s not too much trouble for you, you are also a guest, you know. You’re not supposed to be working.”

“Yes, it’s fine. You know I love to cook, and I’ll call Seokjin and ask if he can come now and help,” she says, her smile radiating reassurance, a beacon of calm amid the chaos.

“What about the guests that can’t get here in time?” you inquire, a small smile playing on your lips, though worry lingers beneath the surface.

“That’s just too bad for them. We are sticking to the schedule. I think the most important people are here anyway,” she declares with a soft smile gracing her lips. You catch the glint in her eyes, brimming with excitement as she eagerly anticipates marrying the love of her life.

“Eh, what about the cake?” You interject, a sudden realization dawning on you as you recall the neglected task.

“It’s on its way, but also stuck in traffic,” your sister replies with a smile, her words laced with optimism. “It’s okay. Today will still be the best day of my life, even if some things are missing. Those little hiccups won’t dim the magic of this moment.”

You smile, grateful for her resilient outlook on things.

Ha-rin’s already on the phone with Seokjin, and he’s assured them he and Namjoon are on their way, ready to lend a hand in the kitchen. Ha-rin’s already bustling downstairs, preparing to whip up something quick.

Feeling the tension lift, you place a reassuring hand on your sister’s shoulder as she sits before her vanity. Meeting her gaze in the mirror, you ask, “Are you ready?”

Her reflection grins back, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“I wish mom was here, or my dad,” her words carry a weight of longing as she smiles, a melancholy veil over her features. You nod in silent understanding. The absence of loved ones, especially on such a significant day, leaves an unmistakable void. It’s a sentiment you’ve grappled with too, ever since Jimin proposed. The thought lingers – the absence of your father to walk you down the aisle. Yet, in that moment, you realize something profound: tradition holds less significance when you’re confident in your own capability, as is your sister.

“I’ll head downstairs to check on the guests, alright? It’s nearly time. But don’t worry, I’ll be back to escort you when the moment arrives,” you assure her with a warm smile, offering a comforting squeeze of her hand before swiftly exiting the room.

You rush downstairs, finding Ha-rin already engrossed in her culinary wizardry. Then, darting outside to the terrace, you scan the arrivals. Among them are your dearest friends, recognizable instantly amidst the gathering crowd. Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Taehyung, Soo-ah, Ara, your fiancé, and Seokjin hustle past you, bound for the kitchen. Each one exudes a magnetic charm, their presence lending an air of elegance and anticipation to the gathering.

You make your way to Jimin, curiosity piqued. “Where’s your brother?”

Jimin lets out a nervous chuckle, his hand reaching up to scratch his head. “He’s running a bit late. His truck had a flat tire.”

You groan in exasperation, a blend of frustration and humor evident in your voice. “Oh my god. Nothing is going the way that it’s supposed to today, is it?”

“He’ll be here soon, everything will be fine,” he reassures you, his touch warm and reassuring as he gently lifts your hand for a quick, comforting kiss.

As you scan the gathering, more familiar faces start to trickle in — friends and family you rarely get the chance to see. With a warm smile, you greet each one, exchanging brief but heartfelt words, all the while hoping fervently that the ceremony will indeed begin soon.

As you usher people to their seats in front of the archway, a distant rumble draws your attention. Your heart skips a beat, hoping it’s Jungkook arriving at last. But as the vehicle draws nearer, relief washes over you; it’s the officiator, whom you had completely forgotten about until now. Despite the oversight, you’re grateful for his timely arrival.

The officiator hurries out of his car, a hint of urgency in his steps as he apologizes for being late. You offer a reassuring smile, assuring him that it’s alright, and in fact, the groom has yet to arrive, so his timing couldn’t be better.

With a surge of anxious energy, you fish out your phone from your purse and glance at the time. Jungkook should have arrived by now, and the knot of worry tightens in your stomach. The anticipation builds, your nerves tingling as if it were your own wedding day unraveling before you.

The distant growl of a dirt bike engine reaches your ears, and instinctively, you know it’s Jungkook. The rhythmic scrape of tires against earth crescendos as he maneuvers closer, the anticipation heightening with each passing moment. Finally, he parks beside the terrace, his arrival marking a crucial piece falling into place in the intricate mosaic of the day’s events.

As he removes his helmet, his ebony locks cascade in disarray, adding an untamed allure to his rugged appearance. Clad in a sleek black tux, he exudes an effortless charm that catches your eye. With a casual sweep of his hand through his tousled hair, he strides toward you, a grin illuminating his features like a beacon of warmth amidst the day’s chaos.

With a sheepish grin, Jungkook offers his apologies for his tardiness, his words tumbling out in a rush of explanation. “I’m so sorry for being late. I couldn’t find a spare tire for the truck, so I took the bike. How’s everything going?”

You fill Jungkook in on the current chaos with a reassuring smile, noting the absence of food and cake but the improvised efforts of Ha-rin and Seokjin. As you steady him with a grip on his arm, you notice his restless energy. “Well, most people have arrived, the food and cake is missing, but Ha-rin and Seokjin are whipping something up instead, and Jessi is waiting upstairs for her cue,” you say, your tone calm amidst the flurry. “Are you nervous?”

Jungkook beams back, his excitement palpable. “No, I’m just excited,” he replies, his grin infectious, spreading warmth through his words.

“Great, if you head over to the archway, I’ll go fetch Jessi,” you say, your smile encouraging as you give his hand a reassuring squeeze before heading off to find your sister.

You rush back upstairs to your sister’s bedroom and discover her in tears, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Concern floods through you as you hasten to her side, enfolding her in a protective embrace. “What’s happened?” You inquire urgently, your voice laced with worry.

Your sister’s current state is unusual, adding to your concern. It’s rare to see her like this, and that’s what’s truly troubling you.

Her breaths come in ragged gasps, as if each one is a battle. “The nerves are getting to me,” she manages between uneven breaths.

You come to a poignant realization in that moment—beneath her resilient exterior lies vulnerability, just like anyone else. Wrapping your arms around her, you offer solace, acknowledging her humanity. “It’s all gonna be okay. Kook’s here, looking so damn handsome,” you assure her, hoping to ease her nerves.

Your reassuring touch rests gently on her shoulders as you offer comforting words. “Despite the chaos earlier, everything’s set. The only thing missing downstairs is you,” you assure her, conveying both readiness and anticipation for the momentous occasion awaiting her.

With a soft sniffle, she delicately dabs at her tears, ensuring her makeup remains flawless, a determined effort not to let her emotions overshadow her beauty.

“I’m ready, let's go,” she declares, her voice steadying with determination, a final sniffle betraying her resolve as she stands up, ready to face the moment head-on.

Despite the smudges of dirt along the hem of her dress, she radiates an undeniable beauty, the gown hugging her form like it was made for her alone.

As her fingers intertwine with yours, a silent bond of sisterly solidarity forms. Descending the staircase together, you halt at the threshold of the terrace, stealing a fleeting moment to convey your unwavering support. “Remember, I love you, and everything will fall into place. It’s your time now. Go out there and claim your happiness.”

With a radiant smile in return, she embraces the moment, and you dash outside to join the assembly, making your way to the archway where Jungkook, Jimin, and the officiator stand. As you position yourself as your sister’s bridesmaid, a swell of emotion overtakes you at the sight of the gathered guests. Tears well in your eyes, understanding the depth of this moment for your sister, realizing the profound emotions that accompany such a significant occasion.

As the doors swing open, all heads turn in unison, anticipation palpable in the air. Your sister emerges, a mix of nerves and joy evident in her demeanor. Yet, as her gaze meets Jungkook’s beaming expression, a radiant smile blooms across her face, erasing any lingering apprehension and filling the space with an undeniable warmth.

She steps forward to join Jungkook, their eyes locking in a tender exchange that speaks volumes of their profound affection. Despite the nerves dancing in their gazes, their smiles radiate pure happiness, a testament to the depth of their bond. Witnessing their intertwined emotions, a blend of excitement and anticipation, fills you with a rush of affectionate fondness for the pair before you.

The officiant’s voice resonates, carrying the weight of solemnity and celebration, as he addresses the gathered assembly. “Welcome, cherished family, beloved friends, and dear ones,” he begins, his words weaving a tapestry of unity and affection. “Today, amidst this gathering of love, we commemorate the union of Jungkook and Jessi. In this moment, we stand witness to their profound commitment and rejoice in the boundless love that binds their hearts together, forging a path illuminated by devotion and shared dreams.”

As the officiant continues, his words become an intimate embrace of the couple’s journey, weaving anecdotes of triumphs and trials into a tapestry of enduring love. Each word seems to resonate with the experiences of Jungkook and Jessi, casting a warm glow of recognition and affirmation upon their union. You find yourself smiling, touched by the authenticity and depth of his words, which echo the resilience and commitment that define their relationship.

A wave of emotion washes over you, tightening your throat with a profound sense of affection. Glancing at your fiancé, you find him equally moved, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears yet radiant with a tender smile. His gaze flits between Jungkook, Jessi, and you, each glance brimming with pride and adoration for the bond being celebrated before you.

A hush falls over the gathered guests, anticipation crackling in the air like static electricity, as they collectively grasp the significance of the moment unfolding before them: the exchange of vows.

With a gentle smile gracing his lips, the officiant beckons Jungkook and Jessi to take each other’s hands and stand face to face. “Now,” he says softly, “Jungkook and Jessi, it's time to share the promises you’ve crafted for each other. Let your hearts speak.”

Jungkook inhales deeply, gathering his emotions before he begins. “I, Jungkook, take you, Jessi, just as you are,” he starts, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “From this day forward, I vow to cherish you, to love you with all my heart. You’ve been my friend since the day I moved next door, and through it all, you’ve been there for me, calling me out on my bullshit and lifting me up when I stumbled. Your kindness and love have shaped me in ways I can’t even begin to express. I promise to make every day with you an adventure, to fill our lives with joy and laughter, and to remain faithful to you as we grow old together. I can’t wait to share all my hopes and dreams with you. This, I solemnly pledge to you.”

Tears blur your vision, and you blink rapidly, trying to regain your composure. A glance at Jimin confirms that you’re not alone in your emotional response; his eyes glisten with unshed tears. Around you, guests grapple with their own emotions, alternating between soft sniffles and heartfelt chuckles.

Jimin, by Jungkook’s side, produces the ring, its glimmering presence a testament to their shared journey. You witness Jessi’s trembling anticipation, her eyes shining with love as Jungkook presents her with the ring, a symbol of their commitment. As the ring slips onto her finger, Jessi’s smile breaks through her tears, her emotions overflowing in a silent testament to their love.

Amidst laughter and tears, Jessi’s voice breaks through in a heartfelt chuckle, echoing the sentiment of everyone present. “How can I follow that?” She manages to say, her words laced with emotion, yet filled with joy.

With a determined resolve, Jessi straightens her posture, her gaze locked onto Jungkook’s, as if he’s the sole focus in the crowd. “I, Jessi, take you, Jungkook, as you are,” she begins, her voice unwavering, “and I promise from this day forward to love you with all my heart, to cherish you forever, even when you're being an idiot.” A ripple of laughter passes through the guests, but Jessi continues undeterred. “When I first met you, I knew we would become the bestest of friends,” she recounts warmly, “and though we have both been blind to our love for each other, we’ve always been there since day one. Our love is a slow one, and I can’t wait to watch it build even stronger over time. I promise to always be there for you, like I always have, and to spend eternity with you.”

Your vision blurs with tears again, rendering everything a watery haze. Yet, through the mist, you witness Jessi slipping the ring onto Jungkook’s finger with a tenderness that speaks volumes. They share a fleeting glance, a silent exchange of vows in their eyes, before the officiant’s voice pierces through the moment once more.

“With your declarations of love echoing through the hearts of all gathered here today, surrounded by the embrace of loved ones, I now, with the authority bestowed upon me, declare you husband and wife. You may seal your union with a kiss,” the officiant proclaims, his words resonating with warmth and joy as he steps back, leaving the newlyweds bathed in the glow of love’s triumph.

As Jungkook and Jessi’s lips meet in a tender embrace, a wave of exuberance sweeps through the crowd, erupting in cheers, applause, and jubilant shouts. Their kiss ignites a symphony of celebration, laughter mingling with the joyous cacophony. With twinkling eyes and contagious smiles, they break apart briefly, their hands raised in a playful display before succumbing once more to the intoxicating magic of their love, sealing their union with another tender kiss.

They gracefully traverse the grassy aisle, and each step resonates with the harmony of their newfound bond. With every footfall, the air is charged with a palpable sense of unity and joy. You intertwine your fingers with Jimin’s, the warmth of his hand a comforting reassurance amidst the whirlwind of emotions. Together, you and the jubilant assembly trail behind the newlyweds, a vibrant procession of love and celebration, each heartbeat echoing the symphony of affection that fills the air.

In a cascade of affection, you envelop both your sister and Jungkook in a tight embrace, the culmination of their love story tangible in this moment of love. Around you, friends and family converge, their outstretched arms forming a tapestry of heartfelt congratulations, woven with laughter, tears, and boundless joy.

Music fills the air, and Ha-rin and Seokjin’s culinary creations adorn the tables, tempting guests to indulge in a symphony of flavors. Conversations hum with warmth and laughter, a mosaic of shared stories and heartfelt connections, as you and Jimin navigate the lively gathering hand in hand, savoring each moment together amidst the festive atmosphere.

The day wanes into twilight, as the sun’s golden embrace yields to the subtle allure of dusk, the terrace transforms beneath the twinkling glow of the string lights. Their radiant beams cast a spell, painting the scene with an ethereal glow that could rival the most picturesque of rom-com settings. It’s as if the very essence of cinematic romance has descended upon this moment, wrapping you in its embrace and etching this day into the annals of timeless love stories.

As the delectable flavors crafted by Ha-rin and Seokjin dance on your taste buds, satiating your hunger, Jimin gracefully makes his way to the piano, his fingers poised to weave magic into the air. Eagerly, you join him, settling onto the bench beside him, anticipation coursing through your veins like an electric current, ready to be swept away by the enchanting melody he’s about to conjure.

As the final strains of music dissolve into the air, Jimin’s fingers hover over the piano keys, poised like a painter about to create a masterpiece. With the gentle caress of his touch, the first note emerges, followed by the sweet cadence of his voice, weaving a spell that ensnares your soul. Mesmerized, you surrender to the enchantment of his performance, each note a whisper of passion, each melody a testament to his mastery. His presence is magnetic, drawing you into a realm where time stands still and only the harmonies of love prevail.

He serenades with a Lukas Graham melody, and Jimin’s voice transcends mere sound, becoming an ethereal cascade of emotion. “When you say, you love the way I make you feel, everything becomes so real,” his words weave a tapestry of raw vulnerability, each syllable a tender embrace. “Don’t be scared, no, don’t be scared, cause you’re all I need,” he implores, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand promises. In that moment, surrounded by the twilight glow and the soft murmur of the evening, his melody becomes an anthem of love, resonating deep within your heart.

You glance around, the scene unfolds like a painting of affectionate vignettes; couples swaying cheek to cheek in perfect synchrony, their souls intertwined in the dance of love. Among them, your sister and Jungkook move with a grace that transcends mere steps, their hearts beating as one, their eyes locked in a silent promise of forever. In the soft glow of the string lights, their love is a radiant beacon, illuminating the night with its undeniable warmth and beauty.

Jimin’s fingers glide with effortless grace over the piano keys, and you find yourself swaying gently to the rhythm of the song next to him, enveloped in a cocoon of love. His voice, like a velvet caress, fills the air with each heartfelt lyric, each note resonating deep within your soul. “All my life,” he sings, his voice carrying the weight of every emotion, “I thought it’d be hard to find the one, ‘till I found you, and I find it bittersweet, ‘cause you gave me something to lose.” In that moment, surrounded by the soft glow of the string lights and the warmth of your loved ones, you realize that this is exactly where you belong—lost in the melody of love, with Jimin by your side.

As those words echo through the melody, they strike a chord deep within you, resonating with the profound love you hold for Jimin. Each syllable encapsulates the essence of your bond, stirring emotions you never knew existed. Tears brim in your eyes, a testament to the overwhelming beauty of the moment, as your heart dances to the rhythm of the keys, synchronizing with the song of your soulmate’s love.

“But when you love someone, you open up your heart. When you love someone, you make room. If you love someone, and you’re not afraid to lose ‘em,” Jimin’s voice caresses each note, weaving a tapestry of emotions, and you find yourself spellbound by his heartfelt rendition. His words resonate deep within your soul, stirring a kaleidoscope of feelings. You can’t help but wonder if he’s serenading you, but in this moment, it doesn’t matter. The beauty of his melody transcends any specific recipient, filling the air with pure, unadulterated love. Your heart swells with an indescribable joy, as if each note is a love letter written just for you.

As the final notes of the song fade into the night, Jimin’s eyes find yours, ablaze with an intensity that leaves you breathless. Without a word, he closes the distance between you, his touch gentle yet electrifying as his lips meet yours in a passionate embrace. In that fleeting moment, it’s as if time itself stands still, the world around you fading into insignificance as you’re enveloped in the warmth of his love. It’s a collision of souls, a cosmic dance orchestrated just for the two of you. As you part, his forehead presses against yours, his eyes searching yours with an unwavering devotion. “I love you,” he whispers, each word a promise etched into the fabric of the universe.

Tears glisten in your eyes as you tenderly place your hands over his, cradling them against your cheeks. “I love you too,” you murmur, the words carrying the weight of a lifetime of shared dreams and unspoken promises.

The music surges to life once more, transforming into an upbeat melody that ignites the crowd with infectious energy, prompting everyone to leap and sway with unbridled joy.

As you sit beside Jimin, enveloped in the vibrant atmosphere, you find solace in the simple act of watching people twirl and sway to the music. With his hand clasped in yours, you observe the dance floor come to life: Soo-ah and Namjoon’s laughter fills the air as they spin in rhythm, while Ara and Taehyung move with effortless grace, lost in the moment.

You glance across the dance floor, and you catch sight of Yoongi and Hoseok swaying in perfect harmony, their laughter echoing amidst the music. Their closeness and whispered words spark a curiosity that draws your attention, and as they slip away toward the stables, a spontaneous laugh escapes your lips.

You lean into Jimin’s embrace, a soft smile gracing your lips as you observe your sister and Jungkook engaged in their playful dance-off. Their competitive spirits shine through as they showcase their moves, each trying to outdo the other in a lighthearted battle for dance floor supremacy. Their energy is infectious, eliciting an affectionate eye roll from you as you revel in the joyous atmosphere of the moment alongside Jimin.

Just as you turn away, a tender moment catches your eye: Ha-rin leans in to kiss Seokjin, their affectionate gesture weaving seamlessly into the vibrant tapestry of the celebration. A warm smile plays on your lips, touched by the sight of their love blossoming amidst the festivities.

You turn towards Jimin, drawn by the magnetic pull of his presence, and nestle into his side, seeking solace in the comfort of his embrace. Your fingers intertwine naturally, a silent affirmation of your connection, as you both linger in the tranquil embrace of your love.

As you bask in the serene moment with Jimin, a voice pierces through the tranquility from behind, jolting you back to the present. “I’m so sorry I’m late, but I’m here with the cake!”

You pivot around to behold a lady cradling the cake in her arms, an emblem of sweet relief amidst the festivities. You hasten to her side, extending a hand to aid her with the burden. “It’s fine. It’s the perfect time,” you reassure her, your words resonating with a sense of gratitude and eagerness.

You delicately position the cake on the table, its presence a timely marvel as the moment for cake-cutting approaches. Its arrival couldn’t have been more opportune, aligning seamlessly with the proceedings.

Jungkook and your sister approach the cake, their smiles radiant like two love-struck souls lost in their own world. With synchronized movements, they cut into the cake, their laughter filling the air as they distribute slices to each guest, their joy contagious and palpable.

The cake is a divine delight, each bite a symphony of flavors dancing on your taste buds. As you indulge in its sweetness, laughter and chatter fill the air, accompanied by clinks of glasses as you toast to love and happiness.

As you sway in Jimin’s arms, the music enveloping you in its rhythm, you catch a glimpse of Yoongi and Hoseok returning to the dance floor. There’s a playful glint in Yoongi’s eyes that you recognize all too well, and it’s contagious. You exchange knowing smiles, a silent acknowledgment of mischief, before returning to the dance with renewed energy.

As the night wanes and the stars twinkle above, casting their celestial glow, you find yourselves reluctant to bid farewell to the festivities. However, the time has come for your sister and Jungkook to embark on their honeymoon adventure.

“Where’s the grand destination?” You inquire, your curiosity piqued by the air of mystery surrounding your sister and Jungkook’s travel plans. Her recent penchant for secrecy has only added to your intrigue, leaving you eager for her revelation.

“I’ll tell you once we’re back from our adventure in two weeks,” she teases, a playful glint in her eye as she envelops you in a warm embrace, leaving you hanging in suspense yet again.

You join the embrace, enveloping Jungkook in a heartfelt hug, your words tinged with genuine warmth as you wish them an unforgettable honeymoon filled with love and laughter.

Returning home without your sister feels unsettling. The once lively corridors now echo with emptiness, leaving you with an unexpected sense of loneliness that you struggle to shake off. It’s a feeling you find discomforting, one that drives you back to Jimin’s comforting embrace. His home has evolved into your sanctuary, a place where warmth and familiarity envelop you like a cozy blanket— a home. In quiet conversations with Jimin, you’ve explored the idea of making a home together after marriage, and the anticipation thrills you to your core. The thought of sharing your life with him under one roof fills you with an eager longing that grows with each passing day.

You’ve made a pact to hold off until your sister and Jungkook return from their honeymoon, a decision born out of respect for their special time together. It’s a waiting game, albeit a challenging one, as each day stretches out like a tantalizing promise of what’s to come. In the meantime, you find solace in the anticipation, savoring the moments spent with Jimin while eagerly counting down the days until you can officially start your life together.

In the tranquil embrace of his ranch, each morning unfolds like a cherished ritual shared with your beloved fiancé. As the sun paints the horizon with hues of amber and gold, you find yourself enveloped in his arms, where every embrace whispers promises of forever. Here, amidst the rustle of the breeze and the gentle melody of nature, you discover a sense of belonging that transcends mere walls and roofs— it’s a sanctuary where your heart finds its true home.

As the day unfolds, you immerse yourself in the untamed beauty of the ranch, working alongside Yoongi and Hoseok to master the art of taming wild horses. Amidst the spirited dance between human and horse, Taehyung often joins, his curiosity piqued by the mesmerizing spectacle before him.

Amidst the flurry of ranch chores and horse training sessions, you’ve carved out precious moments to steal away with Jimin. Today, you’re escaping into the embrace of nature together, saddling up for a romantic horseback ride—a date brimming with the promise of adventure and love.

You and Jimin emerge from the stables, the weight of the world left behind as you venture into the boundless expanse of the countryside. Direction matters little when you’re with Jimin, your heart’s compass guiding you both through fields of golden grass and beneath a sky ablaze with the hues of twilight.

You soar over the rolling hills, weaving through dense forests, embraced by the remaining warmth of the sun and the playful caress of the wind through your hair. In this exhilarating moment, your heart sings with joy, knowing that you share this breathtaking experience with Jimin by your side, his laughter mingling with the melody of nature.

“Should we take a break?” You propose, feeling the thrill of the ride tingling in your veins after half an hour of journeying. The landscape around you is alive with the pulse of nature, a vibrant painting stretching as far as the eye can see. Though the ranch isn’t too distant, the distance you’ve covered has infused the air with an electrifying sense of adventure.

You both dismount your horses, the soft rustle of grass underfoot as you settle on the grassy ground. Nearby, your horses graze contentedly, a peaceful symphony of munching filling the air as you recline beside each other, basking in the tranquil moment together.

Jimin settles in behind you, enveloping you in his protective embrace, his warmth seeping into your skin. With a tender gesture, he rests his head on your shoulder, his breath soft against your neck as he whispers, “What’s on your mind?”

You lean into his touch, finding solace in the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat against your back, a steady reassurance in the chaos of your thoughts. “Lately, I’ve been grappling with something,” you admit, the weight of your words heavy on your tongue. But this sentiment has lingered for a while, and you’ve mulled it over countless times. “I don’t feel like home feels like home anymore. I really want to move in with you because your space, your presence, it feels like home— where I belong, you know?”

Jimin nods in understanding, his warm breath tickling your skin as he speaks. “Yeah, I remember you mentioning that, love.”

“Do you think Jungkook will move in with Jessi then? Not that I don’t want to live here with your brothers,” you rush to add, ensuring you don’t overstep. You love his brothers, and you don’t really want them to leave either. But you also know your sister and Jungkook. It would be hell to live in the same house as them. You can still vividly recall that week at your place where you didn’t get any sleep because of all the sounds they were making.

Jimin chuckles softly, his warm breath tickling your ear, “I don’t know actually. But I think we can talk to them when they get back. We’re all grown people, I think they would understand that we want to live together, and I think they want that for themselves too. We just have to figure out the logistics.” His voice is reassuring, carrying a hint of excitement for the future.

You laugh softly, the sound blending with the rustle of the breeze, realizing the truth in his words. With a playful nudge, you lean further into his comforting embrace, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek, a silent promise of solidarity and affection.

“I love you more than words can express, Jimin,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the soft rustle of the leaves. As his warm breath caresses your neck, you feel a surge of emotion, a wave of affection that envelops you like a gentle breeze, leaving you breathless and longing for more.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck in a tender kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. In that moment, you feel as if the world around you fades away, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the flutter of butterflies in your stomach, reminding you of the depth of your affection for him.

“Something else has been on my mind too,” you begin, your voice trembling with lust as he peppers kisses along your neck. Each touch ignites a spark within you, urging you to share your thoughts with him, knowing that in his embrace, you’ll find comfort and understanding.

As his lips and tongue dance across your neck, eliciting soft gasps from your lips, you feel a surge of desire mingled with the need to express yourself. He doesn’t utter a word, but his gentle encouragement in the form of subtle sounds spurs you on, urging you to share your thoughts amidst the sensual distraction of his touch.

Amidst the tantalizing sensation of his kisses, you muster a chuckle, the playful warmth of the moment infusing your words with a light-hearted tone. “I’ve been thinking about breeding,” you confess, the words punctuated by a giggle as the ticklish sensation creeps in.

“That is one sexy way to open up for the baby talk,” he laughs, his tone playful yet tinged with a hint of desire, punctuated by a teasing nip at your neck.

“I’m not talking about us, you silly goof,” you chuckle, playfully rolling your eyes as you struggle to keep your thoughts on track.

“I’m talking about Mikrokosmos,” you clarify, your voice steadier now, with a touch of affection.

Jimin pulls back slightly, attempting to meet your gaze, though it’s a bit challenging at this angle. “Wait, are you serious?” He asks, a mix of surprise and curiosity in his tone.

“Yeah, she’s so pretty. I think she’ll have some beautiful foals, don’t you think?” You ask, a spark of excitement dancing in your eyes.

“Yeah, that’s actually a good idea. Do you want to train the foals yourself then?” He asks, resting his head back on your shoulder, his voice tinged with curiosity and anticipation.

“Yeah. I think it’ll be fun. Do you want to help me?” You ask, your voice filled with excitement and a hint of playfulness, your smile evident in your tone even if he can’t see it.

“Of course, love. I’d do anything for you,” he murmurs, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he leans in to kiss your neck again, his devotion evident in every touch.

“Thank you,” you express with a heartfelt squeeze as you hug him, your gratitude washing over you. Rising from the grass, you extend your hand to him, pulling him up with a gentle tug, ready to embark on whatever adventures lie ahead, hand in hand.

As you ride back home together, the anticipation of a warm meal awaiting you adds to the comfort of returning. Upon arrival, the aroma of leftovers tantalizes your senses, drawing you into the kitchen where Taehyung is already at work. His cheerful presence fills the room, a welcome sight in the otherwise empty house. With the others engrossed in their respective tasks, it’s just the three of you, creating a cozy atmosphere that wraps around you like a familiar embrace.

“Sorry, I was hungry,” Taehyung offers with a sheepish grin, his eyes bright with mischief as he waits for the microwave to do its magic.

“No worries, Taehyung. We’ve all been there,” Jimin reassures him with a gentle pat on the shoulder. You can’t help but beam at the sight. Lately, their bond has been strengthening, and it warms your heart to see Taehyung integrating into the family he never knew he had, his kindness shining through every interaction.

Jimin swiftly plates some food for both you and himself, and just as Taehyung’s microwave timer dings, Jimin prioritizes serving your meal first, his actions speaking volumes about his thoughtfulness and care.

As the aroma of the freshly heated food fills the air, the three of you gather around the cozy kitchen table, ready to savor the meal together.

“Any idea when Jessi and Jungkook will be back?” Taehyung inquires, taking a sip of his water, his curiosity palpable in the air.

“They should be back in about a week,” you respond, a gentle smile gracing your lips as you anticipate their return.

“That’s awesome. I didn’t really get a chance to hang out with him much before they left for the honeymoon. I’m really looking forward to getting to know him better,” he adds, his face lighting up with a wide, eager grin.

“You’ll have plenty of opportunities,” Jimin reassures him, his smile warm and encouraging.

Taehyung turns to you with sudden curiosity. “Do you know if Ara has a boyfriend?”

You burst into laughter, nearly spilling your food—a tragedy, considering Jimin’s delicious cooking. “She’s single. I noticed you two dancing at the wedding. Do you like her?”

His smile brightens, infectiously so, prompting a grin from you and even Jimin. Taehyung nods, a subtle blush tinging his cheeks. “Yeah, she’s cute.”

“You should ask her out on a date, I think she likes you too,” you encourage with a smile, offering a supportive thumbs-up.

The laughter of both you and Jimin resonates through the living room in the early night, your bodies intertwined as you lounge on the couch, the TV playing in the background. However, your attention isn't on the screen; instead, you’ve lowered the volume, delving into a meaningful conversation.

“Love, we’ve made love in just about every corner of this place,” Jimin teases, his laughter light and playful, his hand warm on your thigh. His smile, with those endearing crooked teeth, ignites a rush of excitement within you, your heart quickening its pace, while butterflies flutter fiercely in your stomach.

“No, I don’t think we have,” you reply, shaking your head, mischief twinkling in your eyes as you mentally scan every surface you’ve ever had sex on.

“We’ve done it on the kitchen table, in the tub, under the shower, on the bed, even in the stables, and don't forget the truck and outside,” he rattles off, a devilish grin playing on his lips as he recalls each rendezvous. His gaze smolders with desire as he tightens his grip on your thigh, drawing you closer until your breaths mingle, noses touching in an electric exchange of heat.

He leans into you, his warm breath grazing your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he whispers, “Am I forgetting something?” His voice is laden with a playful tease, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, igniting a fiery anticipation between you.

Your breath hitches, and you feel the shiver travel from your spine down to your core. “I don’t think so,” you manage to whisper, the arousal pulsing through every fiber of your being.

Your hands rest on his chest as you inch yourself closer, almost straddling his lap. “But we haven’t done it on the couch yet,” you murmur, feeling the heat between you rising with each word, the anticipation electrifying the air.

“Are you sure? It seems weird that we haven’t done it here yet,” he muses, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

He presses you down into the plush of the couch, his weight against you, his eyes shimmering with a mixture of love and lust, a smile playing on his lips like a love-struck fool. “Let’s add it to the list then,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, sending a thrill coursing through you.

He presses his hips against yours, igniting a surge of desire as you release a needy moan. Your hands find their way to his ribs, fingers curling in lust, while he leans in to kiss you fervently, starting at your lips before trailing down to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a deliciously tantalizing manner, gently biting it.

He groans softly, his lips and tongue creating a work of art on your neck, leaving you breathless and yearning for more of his electrifying touch.

“Oh, Jimin... I’m already so wet,” you moan, the intensity of his movements against your pussy sending waves of pleasure through you.

“Really?” He murmurs huskily in your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “I’ve barely even touched you, love,” he adds, his voice dripping with desire and a hint of something dangerous that leaves you eager for more.

His erection is evident against you, firm and eager, as you trace the outline of his dick through his jeans. “I want to feel you,” you breathe out, your voice laced with urgency and desire.

His movements send shivers down your spine, igniting every nerve ending as he presses cock against you with fervor. “I wanna touch you too,” he whispers, his breath hitching with anticipation.

With tender hands, he skillfully undoes the button of your jeans, sliding them off your legs with a gentle tug. As your shirt slips away, revealing the curves he knows so well, his gaze lingers on your form clad in your lacy underwear, a mixture of desire and adoration shining in his eyes. “You’re stunning,” he murmurs, his voice a soft caress against your skin.

With a shy smile at his praise, you shift closer, eager to explore every inch of him. As his shirt joins yours on the floor, you're met with the sight of his sculpted physique, each muscle defined by hard work and dedication. His skin, bathed in a golden glow, invites your touch, and as your fingertips trace the lines of his abs, a soft chuckle escapes his lips, a melody that makes your heart flutter.

With a sense of urgency, your fingers deftly work at his pants, swiftly undoing them before pushing him back onto the couch. As you remove his trousers, he’s left clad only in his black boxers, a sight that ignites a primal desire within you. His form, outlined by the fabric, is a tantalizing tease, and you can’t resist the urge to trace the contours of his dick. The sound of his pleasure as you touch him sends a jolt of electricity through you, fueling your own growing need.

“I wanna taste you,” you murmur, your voice laced with desire as you tantalizingly hover over him.

“I wanna taste you too, love,” he responds, a smile playing on his lips as he eagerly joins in, slipping his fingers into his boxers. With your help, they slide down, revealing his cock, standing proudly before you. It’s tall and girthy, the veins almost look like they might be popping out of his skin. The head looks a bit red and you salivate watching how it twitches.

The sight of him, so raw and eager, ignites a fire within you. You just want to ravish him or for him to ravish you.

You pause to savor the sight of him, every line and curve, every mark and scar telling a story of his strength and resilience. His form is nothing short of captivating, each imperfection only adding to his allure. You find yourself biting down on your lip, a mix of desire and adoration coursing through you.

You release the clasp of your bra, letting it cascade to the floor, joining the pile of discarded garments. Cupping your breasts with your hands, you bring them together, feeling their weight and softness against your palms. The hunger in Jimin's eyes intensifies, his gaze smoldering with desire as he emits a guttural groan, his longing palpable in the air.

You pinch your nipples as you moan, “Touch me Jimin.”

He doesn’t need a second invitation, his urgency palpable as he rises swiftly, his hands assertive as they press you down, swiftly removing your panties with an almost primal force, the fabric of the lace yielding to his determination. As his lips claim yours in a fervent kiss, his journey of passion descends, tracing a path from your mouth to the curve of your neck, lingering at each delicate contour, before cascading further, worshiping the expanse of your collarbones, and finally descending to the tender terrain of your chest.

His touch envelops your curves, a symphony of desire as his hand caresses your breasts, each kiss a testament to his adoration. “These tits,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “are so fucking beautiful.” His words, like velvet, echo with reverence, igniting a flame of passion that dances between you.

You can feel his dick on your wet pussy, and God, every fiber of your body yearns for him to just plunge into you like this.

He moves up from your chest, his eyes lock onto yours, ablaze with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine, “Should we do each other at the same time?”

A surge of excitement pulses through you as you bite your lip, meeting his gaze with a mixture of anticipation and desire. Without hesitation, Jimin reclines, his eyes dark with longing. “Sit on my face, love,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need.

A shiver courses through you at his command, a soft moan escaping your lips as you position yourself above him with your head facing towards his dick, your breath hitching with anticipation. With trembling anticipation, you lower yourself onto his face, the electric sensation of his tongue against your most sensitive areas sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. As he expertly explores every curve and crevice, igniting a fire within you, you can’t help but lose yourself in the intoxicating rhythm of his touch.

With a feverish urgency, your fingers wrap around his dick, eliciting a primal growl from deep within his chest as he bucks against your touch, his desire palpable in the air. Every stroke sends shivers down his spine, his breath growing ragged as you stoke the flames of his arousal, your movements synchronized with the rhythm of his tongue against your pussy.

You lower your head with a hungry eagerness, your tongue tracing a tantalizing path along his cock, teasing him. The tangy sweetness of his precum dances across your taste buds, igniting a fiery hunger within you as you savor the familiar flavor that never fails to drive you wild with longing.

Why does he always taste so good?

You stroke him slowly, relishing the way his cock pulses eagerly in your hands, aching to be engulfed by your warm, wet mouth. You’re acutely aware of the hunger in his gaze, even though you can’t see his eyes. You’re sure he longs to feel your mouth around his dick, just like you can’t wait for him to fill it up.

It’s almost impossible to concentrate on anything other than the electrifying sensation of Jimin’s skilled tongue exploring every inch of your aching pussy, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each flick and swirl of his tongue feels like a symphony of ecstasy, igniting a firestorm of desire that consumes your every thought and leaves you gasping for more. It’s so hard to focus on his dick and you can’t help when you press your pussy more onto his face.

“Fuck, Jimin, I’m gonna come soon,” you gasp, your voice a desperate plea as waves of pleasure threaten to overwhelm your senses. You can feel the heat building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, ready to explode into ecstasy at any moment. His tongue works its magic with sinful expertise, driving you to the brink of oblivion with each tantalizing stroke.

As the overwhelming pleasure of his tongue’s expertise threatens to consume you entirely, you’re suddenly struck with a fierce need for him in return. Releasing his throbbing length from your grasp, you shift your focus, your hands now finding purchase on his strong thighs. With a hunger that burns as fervently as the desire coursing through your veins, you lower yourself onto him, welcoming his dick into the warmth of your mouth. As you close your lips around him, engulfing him in a dizzying sensation of heat and wetness, his response is immediate—a guttural cry that resonates with raw need and primal desire.

You begin to suck him and with each sultry movement of your lips, you draw him deeper, setting a rhythm that ignites a symphony of pleasure between you. His fervent thrusts match the urgency of your ministrations. Sensing his need, you yield further, allowing him to claim your mouth completely, your jaw slackening to accommodate his cock.

You surrender to the dual sensations coursing through you, each touch a symphony of pleasure orchestrated by desire. As he lavishes attention on your clit with fervent suction, you reciprocate with eager enthusiasm, welcoming him deeper into your mouth with each rhythmic thrust.

Your nails sink into the warmth of his flesh, urging him on with an intensity born of unbridled desire. With each press of your fingertips, you silently convey the urgency pulsating within you, a primal need for more, faster, harder. As his pace quickens in response to your silent plea, you find yourself teetering on the edge of euphoria, close to the brink of release.

Every nerve in your body ignites with a ferocious intensity, each sensation amplified tenfold as the coil of pleasure tightens within you, threatening to engulf your senses. Your toes curl involuntarily, a reflexive response to the overwhelming ecstasy coursing through your veins. But you find yourself torn between the desire to alert Jimin to your impending climax and the overwhelming sensation of his mouth on your clit, sending waves of electric pleasure coursing through your body. As saliva pools in your mouth and tears of pleasure blur your vision, you surrender to the maelstrom of sensations, your grip on his thighs tightening with an urgency born of unbridled desire.

You don’t know how to alert him with his cock stuffed so good inside your mouth, but it’s too late anyway when you feel your pussy clenching hard.

As the waves of pleasure crash over you in a torrential downpour, Jimin’s relentless tongue continues its sensual assault, sending shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through every fiber of your being. Your body convulses uncontrollably above him, each movement a testament to the overwhelming intensity of your release. With ragged breaths escaping through your nose, you vocalize your euphoria around his dick, your moans merging with the rhythmic thrusts of his hips as he continues to drive deeper into your quivering form.

Your body trembles with the lingering aftershocks of pleasure as Jimin’s tantalizing lips and sinful tongue work their magic, leaving you teetering on the edge of sanity. Just when you think you can’t take any more, a sharp spank ignites a jolt of electricity through your senses, urging you to lift your ass from his mesmerizing grasp.

With a soft pop, you relinquish his dick from your mouth, only to eagerly turn around on the couch, pulling him into a passionate kiss that sets your soul ablaze.

With a husky breath, he pulls back, his eyes smoldering with a primal hunger that sends a bolt of anticipation coursing through your veins. “God, I can’t wait to be inside you,” he growls, his voice dripping with raw desire.

“On all fours, ass up.”

His commanding tone sparks a delicious thrill, igniting a cascade of sensations that leave you trembling in anticipation. As he instructs you to assume the position, your body responds instinctively, a surge of heat flooding your core as you eagerly comply. Turning on the couch, you present yourself on all fours, your hands resting on the armrest, your ass raised in a provocative invitation that sets his primal instincts ablaze.

Jimin’s primal groan fills the room, his desire palpable as he beholds your enticing display. His teeth sink into his lip with a hunger that borders on desperation, so much so that he might draw blood, his gaze devouring every inch of your exposed form. With a possessive grip, his hands caress the curves of your ass, his touch igniting a fiery sensation that courses through your veins. Then, in a bold declaration of his desire, he delivers a sharp spank, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, your moan of delight echoing in the air.

“Fuck. This. Ass,” his voice drips with raw desire, his fingers tracing the contours of your ass with a feather-light touch that sends electric currents dancing across your skin. A rush of anticipation floods your senses, your pussy pulsating with need, aching for his touch. With each stroke of his fingers, your pussy clenches involuntarily, yearning for the sensation of him buried deep inside you.

He sits up, gets closer to you as he takes a moment to stroke himself, the anticipation mounting with each passing second. As he spreads your ass cheeks, you feel the heat of his cock radiating against your skin, your body trembling in anticipation as his dick teases your entrance, aching for the moment he fills you completely.

With your head nestled on the armrest, you brace yourself for the exquisite sensation of him entering you. As he pushes his dick into your slick folds, you revel in the delightful stretch, a familiar pleasure that never fails to ignite your senses. Your wetness provides a smooth glide, allowing him to effortlessly slide into your depths, each inch sending ripples of ecstasy coursing through your body.

“Jimin-ah!” You pant desperately as he reaches the hilt, your voice a breathy plea echoing through the room. With every pulse of his hardness inside your pulsating pussy, you feel an electric surge of desire coursing through your veins, igniting a firestorm of sensations that consume you completely.

“Move, please,” you plead, your voice a fervent prayer as you ache for his rhythm to ignite the blaze within you. All you crave is the sensation of him thrusting into you, to fuck you silly.

He grunts, a primal sound echoing in the room, as he withdraws from you with deliberate slowness, savoring every inch of your bodies against each other, before plunging back in, equally unhurried.

His hands, firm yet tender, mold into the curves of your ass, guiding each deliberate thrust as he establishes a rhythm of unhurried passion. With every stroke, his fingertips trace the lines of your skin, igniting a symphony of sensations that draw forth an involuntary moan of pleasure from deep within you.

His hand connects with a sharp slap against your skin, sending a jolt of sensation coursing through your body. The sudden sting is quickly followed by a surge of desire, igniting a primal need within you. His voice, laced with desire and dominance, breaks the silence as he leans in, breath hot against your ear, “You like this, don’t you?”

His tone carries a hint of menace, but beneath it all, there’s an undeniable allure that sends shivers down your spine. Despite the edge to his voice, it’s like music to your ears, stirring a primal longing deep within you. Your body reacts instinctively, tightening around his dick as a rush of heat floods your senses.

“Yes!” Your voice, muffled by the plush fabric of the armrest, comes out as a breathy plea, tinged with a mix of desire and desperation.

“Fuck me harder,” you plead with him.

“My love wants it harder?” As his words dance provocatively in the air, you can’t help but feel a rush of heat surging through your veins.

The playful sting of his palm against your skin ignites a primal fire within you, each slap echoing like a thunderous drumbeat, urging you further into the depths of ecstasy. With each resounding impact, the floodgates of desire open wider, drenching you in a wetness of arousal that threatens to consume every inch of your being.

“Yes!” Your voice reverberates through the room, a primal cry of desire echoing off the walls as you eagerly meet his every movement.

But just when you think you’ve reached the pinnacle of pleasure, grinding your ass into his dick, he takes control, his grip on your flesh tightening as he unleashes a torrent of raw thrusts. With each thunderous thrust, he fucks you with insane speed, leaving you gasping for breath.

You feel so fucking gone. He hits you so deep, his dick touching your g-spot repeatedly, making you see white spots blurring your vision. You’re panting furiously for air.

“You’re doing so good, love,” he pants, his voice a husky whisper as he strokes your ass, his praise a melody in your ears.

“Jimin, fuck, Jimin—” You pant feverishly, feeling your core tighten as you release a surge of liquid around his dick, coating him in your essence.

His hand connects with your ass in a stinging slap before his touch gentles, caressing the same spot. “So good for me, love,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire and affection.

His grip tightens on your hips, anchoring you to him as the rhythm of your bodies creates a symphony of skin-on-skin percussion that reverberates through the living room. Your fingers dig into the plush fabric of the armrest, muffling your moans as pleasure courses through every fiber of your being.

“Don’t silence yourself, love. I’m close,” he urges, his voice strained with the impending release as his thrusts become more urgent, each one driving you both closer to the edge.

You arch your back further, surrendering to his touch as his hand on your shoulder guides you closer, deeper into him. The sensation of him stretching you out sends waves of ecstasy coursing through your body, causing your eyes to roll back in sheer pleasure.

As he moans your name, his fingers grip the flesh of your hips and ass, holding you close as he releases inside you, filling you with his warm essence.

Your eyes snap open, meeting a pair of startled gazes—one belonging to Yoongi, the other to Taehyung. They stand frozen in the hallway, mouths agape, caught in an unexpected moment of intimacy that leaves them speechless.

Despite the sudden intrusion, Jimin doesn’t miss a beat, continuing to thrust into you. Embarrassment floods through you, but your body responds involuntarily, clenching around him. As you steal a glance, you catch the shift in Yoongi’s expression, his grin widening as he swiftly ushers a stunned Taehyung away from the unexpected scene they’ve stumbled upon.

“Aish! Oh my god! I never wanted to witness my brother doing that. I can never unsee it,” Taehyung’s exasperated voice echoes through the room as Yoongi swiftly escorts him out, the sound of the door opening and closing marking their hasty exit.

Your cheeks burn as you scold yourself for not hearing them entering the house. Fuck this is so humiliating!

Fuck. Did Jimin even notice?

Jimin’s deep, primal grunt resonates above you, his grip on your hips firm as the fusion of his essence and yours traces a sensual path from your pussy down to the couch. The thought of cleaning up later flits briefly through your mind, but that’s not currently what’s on your mind.

“Jimin, did you see them? They saw us!” Your voice trembles with embarrassment, a veil of crimson coating your cheeks as he withdraws from you. With a whirl of nervous energy, you spin around, anticipation and apprehension swirling in your gaze, unsure of what awaits in the aftermath of your indiscretion.

“Yeah. It’s nothing they haven’t seen before,” he chuckles, his nonchalant demeanor a stark contrast to the flush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks. With a casual sweep of his hand through his tousled hair, he dismisses any concern, seemingly unfazed by the fact that his brother and friend just bore witness to the raw intensity of him fucking you on the couch.

“They’ve never actually seen us in the act before!” Your words quiver with a mix of mortification and disbelief, a nervous energy pulsating through your veins. As you speak, a torrent of thoughts floods your mind, the realization dawning upon you that this isn’t the first instance of Jimin’s cavalier attitude toward almost getting caught.

A nagging suspicion takes root, whispering that maybe he’s more of an exhibitionist than you initially realized, his nonchalance hinting at a hidden desire to be seen and desired.

“Relax, everything will be alright,” he soothes, his words a balm to your frazzled nerves as he descends to kiss you with a fervor that steals your breath away. In that fleeting moment, his lips melding with yours in a passionate embrace, the world falls away, and the weight of their discovery fades into insignificance.

But the embarrassment returns tenfold, making you blush nervously.

You burst through the door, the cool night air enveloping you in its embrace as you step onto the dimly lit porch. There, illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight, you find both Yoongi and Taehyung, their silhouettes etched against the darkness like guardians of the night, their presence casting a sense of both comfort and nervousness as you join them under the star-studded sky.

Despite feeling overwhelmed with embarrassment, an earnest desire to apologize gnaws at you, urging you to seek redemption for the awkward encounter they witnessed earlier. However, as your gaze locks with theirs, a wave of crimson floods your cheeks.

“I’m so fucking sorry you had to see that,” you blurt out, the weight of your remorse heavy in your voice as you hastily grab a nearby chair, seeking solace in its familiarity. With a deep breath, you settle into your seat, mustering the courage to meet the gaze of both men, your eyes pleading for forgiveness and understanding amidst the awkward tension that hangs in the air.

Yoongi’s laughter fills the night air, a reassuring melody that eases the tension swirling around you. “It’s all good,” he reassures with a grin, his words carrying a playful charm that lifts the weight off your shoulders. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he adds, “And hey, I gotta give credit where it’s due— you’ve got quite a nice pair of tits there.”

“Yoongi!” Your voice rises, cheeks ablaze with a fiery hue that mirrors the heat surging through your body.

“You’re gay, for heaven’s sake! Why were you even looking?” The mix of incredulity and embarrassment colors your words as you groan, feeling like you've been caught in a whirlwind of awkwardness and heat.

“I’m only human, aren’t I? Even I have eyes,” he retorts with a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, the glint in his eye unapologetically rebellious. “And let’s be honest, a nice pair of tits is something anyone can appreciate,” he adds, punctuating his declaration with a casual sip of his beer, his nonchalant demeanor daring you to challenge his unabashed honesty.

Taehyung’s eyes widen, a silent testament to the shock that grips him, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that speaks volumes. In the hushed moment that follows, his silence echoes louder than words, hinting at the depth of his surprise and leaving you to wonder what thoughts race behind his startled expression.

“I’m truly sorry, Tae,” you confess, your words heavy with remorse, but as you speak, you notice his gaze drifting past you, as if unable to meet your eyes directly. It’s as though his sight is fixed on some distant point, his avoidance speaking volumes about the weight of his own thoughts and emotions swirling beneath the surface.

“You really shouldn’t do that where just anyone could stumble upon you,” he advises in a hushed tone, his voice carrying the weight of a clandestine revelation. “And for everyone’s sake, remember to lock the door next time,” he adds, his tone laced with a palpable sense of having witnessed something he'd rather erase from memory.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, your words carrying the weight of genuine remorse as you seek to mend the discomfort lingering in the air.

“I never wanted to witness my brother in such a way,” he grits through clenched teeth, his fingers pressing against his closed eyelids in a futile attempt to erase the images burned into his mind. “Seeing too much of both my brother and sister-in-law... it’s like a stain on my memory,” he confesses, his voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and discomfort, as if grappling with the irreversibility of what he’s witnessed.

“I’m truly, deeply sorry,” you mumble once more, the weight of regret heavy in your voice as you reflect on the discomfort your actions caused them. The image of you and Jimin in that compromising position hangs in the air, an undeniable reminder of a moment you wish could be erased from memory entirely.

Yoongi’s laughter erupts like a thunderclap, breaking the tension with its raw, unrestrained force. “Welcome to the country,” he chuckles, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and nonchalance. “Get used to it. People fuck where they can around here. Hobi and I once stumbled upon them making lovely noises in the stables,” he shares with a mischievous glint in his eye, as if unveiling a scandalous secret of the country’s unconventional norms.

Taehyung’s eyes widen in disbelief, the shock evident in the trembling of his lips as he utters, “Is nowhere sacred?”

“Yoongi! You promised never to speak of that again!” You hiss through gritted teeth, your cheeks ablaze with the heat of embarrassment.

Yoongi’s laughter intensifies, a raucous melody that dances on the edge of defiance. “It’s just a natural act— it’s just sex,” he remarks, his tone casual as he lifts the beer to his lips for another sip.

“No need to get your panties in a twist,” he adds, the nonchalant shrug in his demeanor daring you to challenge the simplicity with which he views such intimate moments.

“Hey. Not all of us enjoy watching other people have sex,” Taehyung interjects, his voice carrying a note of reprimand, his arms folding across his chest in a stance of firm disapproval.

“Sorry. We didn’t mean for you to see it,” you gulp, feeling the weight of his disapproval settle heavily upon you. You grasp the gravity of his words; it’s not as though you relish being under scrutiny. It was an unplanned moment of passion. Yet, the realization dawns that you must exercise greater caution in the future.

“I couldn’t care less,” Yoongi rasps, his tone edged with a hint of amusement. “In fact, I’m thrilled you’re getting dick,” he adds with a smirk, his words laced with a playful irreverence that cuts through the tension.

Taehyung coughs abruptly, a spluttering fit seizing him as his beer takes a perilous detour down the wrong passage, his eyes widening in alarm as he struggles to regain composure amidst the unexpected onslaught.

You cast a concerned glance his way, your instinctive response guiding your hand to rest gently on his back, offering a reassuring touch in his moment of distress.

You chuckle nervously, stealing a glance at Yoongi, your cheeks ablaze with a mixture of embarrassment and unabashed honesty. “It’s really good dick,” you admit, your voice tinged with a hint of bashfulness. “Probably the best I’ve ever had,” you confess, your words carrying the weight of a guilty pleasure you can’t quite resist.

Taehyung continues to cough, his struggle for breath punctuating the air with urgency, until finally, with a resigned groan, he declares, “And this is my cue to leave.”

With a lingering glance filled with a mixture of discomfort and amusement, Taehyung slips away, his departure palpable in the weight of his heavy breaths echoing in the wake of his exit, leaving the two of you to grapple with the aftermath of his abrupt departure.

“Did we push him too far?” You offer a wry smile, the regret evident in the furrow of your brow as you grapple with the realization that Taehyung was undoubtedly made uncomfortable by the situation.

“He will be fine. He needs to grow up,” Yoongi leans in, his demeanor conspiratorial as he gestures towards the table, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “But let’s get back to the real topic at hand. Tell me more about Jimin’s dick,” he continues, his tone suggestive as he shifts the conversation back to the matter of Jimin's prowess.

Your cheeks flare with renewed heat, betraying your unease as a nervous chuckle escapes your lips. “Hold on, are you getting off on this?” You inquire incredulously, your disbelief evident as you ponder the motivations behind his eagerness to delve deeper into the topic.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, not at all. I’m just looking out for you, as your best friend,” he reassures, the sincerity in his tone cutting through any lingering doubts. “I’ve got enough dick in my life,” he adds with a casual sip of his beer, before continuing, “But if you ever need to share or talk about it, you know I’m here. You probably don’t want to talk to your sister or Jungkook about it.”

You groan, a mix of frustration and reluctant acknowledgment washing over you, because deep down, you know he’s spot-on. Sharing such intimate details with your sister or Jungkook? Absolutely out of the question.

As you ponder, you realize you’re not exactly prudish, but the thought of discussing sex openly still makes you squirm. Yet, you also recognize the importance of breaking free from societal taboos surrounding the topic. It’s something you’re determined to improve upon, because there shouldn’t be any shame attached to open dialogue about such a natural aspect of human experience.

Leaning in closer, you confide, “Let me tell you, Jimin’s got some serious skills with both his dick and his tongue. It’s... impressive, to say the least, and that’s all I’m gonna share for now,” you admit, a nervous chuckle bubbling up as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks. Despite the embarrassment, you can’t help but feel a sense of pride in yourself for opening up about such intimate details with your best friend.

“I’m happy for you, truly,” he says with a warm smile, his eyes reflecting the depth of his sincerity. In response, you can’t help but return the smile, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you as you bask in the warmth of your cherished friendship.

“What about you and Hobi?” you inquire, the lingering blush of embarrassment gradually receding from your cheeks, replaced by a genuine curiosity about your friend’s own romantic endeavors.

He reclines in his chair, a contented smile gracing his lips. “It’s great, actually. Better than ever,” he shares, his voice laced with affection and a profound sense of happiness. “I love him more than words can express,” he adds, his gaze distant yet filled with the warmth of unwavering devotion.

As you nod in understanding, a surge of warmth floods your chest as you catch the unmistakable gleam of adoration in his eyes whenever Hoseok’s name is mentioned. It’s a sight that fills you with a sense of profound joy, your heart swelling with the love that radiates between them, leaving you unable to suppress the smile that spreads across your face.

“I’m genuinely happy. For both of us,” you declare, the overflow of love within you akin to a flurry of delicate butterflies taking flight in your chest. Just as the moment envelops you in its warmth, the door swings open, and Jimin emerges, joining you and Yoongi.

“And I can’t wait to marry the love of my life,” you proclaim, your voice brimming with anticipation and affection as you reach for Jimin’s hand, intertwining your fingers with his as he settles beside you. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a blaze of love that courses between you, enveloping you both in a cocoon of intimacy and security. In this moment, with him by your side, you feel as though time could stand still, and you wouldn’t mind one bit.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

Remember the Q&A that is coming in the Epilogue— if you want to send in some questions for the characters, you can do it now (and later too) → Ask the characters (or me), anything ❣️

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

#jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #my heart's home series #reader: female #au: cowboy #au: ranch #au: soulmates #au: childhood friends #au: friends to lovers #au: slice of life #theme: summer #vibe: smutty #vibe: romcom #vibe: angst #vibe: fluffy

35 notes · View notes