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stsgluver · 8 months

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𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟓 — gojo satoru

synopsis. there's nothing more romantic than travelling halfway across the world for the girl you love... even if it is two years late.

wc. 3.4k

tags. none really, yn is described as shorter than megumi, possible ooc for EVERYONE, lowkey forgot how to write halfway through, possible spelling mistakes and plotholes (pls still like my writing i beg)

a/n. im sorry i never really got round to answering the comments on the last post but i have added everyone to the taglist who asked. so i did write two endings but one was bad SO i stuck to this one only <3 i hope this is the right end to the series and thank you sm for the support over the last few months!! i will have a 'spin-off-ish' series focused on the students making the videos in the first place which i will add the link to on this chapter once it's up. this is for @ilovejugs69 ly pookie

previous part / series masterlist

“this is such a bad plan.”

megumi let out a small sigh, resting his head back on the leather of the plane’s seat. an economy seat – much to gojo’s dismay – but there hadn’t been much time to consider other options, bar gojo buying himself a personal private jet and hiring a pilot all in the space of less than an hour.

the dark-haired student clutched the arm rests as he felt his stomach churn in knots as the reality of their decision sunk in. it was a very last minute and muddled plan but gojo was desperate to see you again and megumi wanted nothing more than to have his family back – so when gojo offered to take them both to the other side of the world to find you, he agreed a little too quickly. spontaneity was not his thing and with each passing second he was remembering why.

gojo shuffled himself back in his seat, nose scrunching up in annoyance as he struggled with the small gap for his longer-than-average legs. if his height wasn’t drawing the pair any attention (which it certainly was), the uniforms and the sorcerer’s blindfold definitely were. he didn’t need his six eyes to feel the stares of strangers.

“i’ve never had a bad plan in my life.”

megumi scoffed at the declaration, rolling his eyes at the white haired sorcerer’s misplaced confidence. like it wasn’t gojo’s idea to send megumi on that mission alone that ultimately resulted in yuuji swallowing sukuna’s finger or his idea to prank nanami on his birthday that got both himself and the first years all detention.

“don’t roll your eyes at me, young man,” gojo lightly swatted megumi’s arm, wiggling one of his fingers in front of the younger boy’s face. “your mother will think i’m a shit dad and won’t come back.” megumi ignored the tightening in his chest at the casualness of gojo’s words.

“you are a shit dad,” he retorted, closing his eyes and willing the next seven hours to go by faster than they were. he didn’t hate flying, but he wasn’t the biggest fan, and the nerves that were building up alongside the nonstop chatter from the man beside him were definitely not helping.

gojo gasped and megumi felt him jostling in the seat next to him, he could only imagine the dramatics his teacher was pulling in public. it was best he kept his eyes closed.

“that wasn’t very nice. god, teenagers and their angst these days.”

megumi heard gojo mumbling loudly under his breath and there was no doubt in his mind that there was a cheshire grin on gojo’s face, daring him to take the bait and bicker like the mature adult he was.

however annoying he may have found him, megumi knew that gojo was just as nervous as he was. the two, however, were just polar opposites in all aspects. so while megumi just wanted to spend the next few hours trying to sleep and hope he’d have the courage to face you when he woke up, gojo wanted to play avoidance by teasing him as if they weren’t travelling halfway across the world for you.

when megumi didn’t respond, to gojo’s disappointment, a silence settled between the two. with his hands now stuffed in the pockets of his uniform and head almost on gojo’s shoulder, the dark haired sorcerer attempted to finally fall asleep.

“do you think she’s mad at me?” megumi asked quietly after about five minutes.

gojo hummed thoughtfully, looking down at the teenager almost asleep on his shoulder. “she has no reason to be mad at you,” he said in the most reassuring tone he could muster.

“she’s never messaged me back,” megumi countered.

“at least yours still go through.” gojo huffed lightly, an attempt at brightening megumi’s mood at the expense of himself but it only left both more unsettled at their predicament. he knocked his knee into the younger boy’s gently. “get some sleep, this is going to be a long flight.”

“if you just take a seat here, i will go see if ma’am is available. it’s so lovely to meet her family finally.” a woman dressed in formal attire gestured towards a small lobby waiting room with a bright smile.

there was no one else in there apart from one middle-aged guy with a briefcase, newspaper in hand. gojo thanked the woman, hand on megumi’s shoulder as he led him into the back corner of the white minimalist room.

the sun had set by the time they’d landed and found your office building – something that gojo had forced shoko to send him. he hadn’t even had a chance to tell her what they were doing before he’d gotten on the plane so after she had a go at him for leaving her out of the loop and not bringing her too, she sent across the necessary details with demands for regular updates.

“i bet she’s going to call security,” megumi sighed as he dropped himself down into the black leather seat, resting his head back against the wall behind him. between school and the plane journey, he’d been awake for nearly twenty hours and the stiff seat he was on felt like a pile of feathers. he was going to fall asleep before he’d even had the chance to see you.

gojo crossed one leg over the other, hands crossed behind his head. the teenager wanted to elbow him for his calm posture – he could have as well, he’d dropped his infinity the second the two had entered the building. the second the older sorcerer had stepped into the building he knew you were here, recognising the cursed energy that brought him a familiar comfort he’d missed. “why would she?”

megumi snapped his head in his direction, eyes opening to give him an incredulous look, “why would you say you’re her husband?”

gojo waved a hand dismissively, “i basically am–”

“was. several years ago.” megumi countered and gojo’s mouth dropped open at the audacity of his pupil to point out the obvious facts.

rolling up the sleeves of his jacket, gojo began to stand up and megumi was close to cracking a smile at his behaviour. the delirium of not sleeping was beginning to sink in. “okay, kid–”

“you’re here.”

gojo’s sleeves dropped just as fast as megumi stood up from his seat, both more alert than they had been all day. suddenly, the uneasy feeling megumi had had on the plane didn’t seem so bad, this was so much worse.

you’d barely changed since you’d left, bar your hair being a few inches longer. if the two looked closely enough at you, they’d realise you were just as wrecked with nerves as they were as you struggled to stop your hands from shaking.

when the receptionist had first come up to tell you that your husband and son were here to see you, your initial reaction had been to say she’d made a mistake… until the cryptic message shoko had sent you thirty minutes earlier started to make a lot more sense.

she was the only one you’d maintained regular contact with after you’d left. initially you had gone on a complete no contact with everyone, refusing to even acknowledge that you had a life and a family in japan. you were scared and you’d chosen the coward's way out by running. it felt wrong to still have strings binding you to a life that was no longer yours.

but you missed her and you worried constantly about gojo and megumi, so you’d slowly built up messaging her once a month to every few days just to know everyone was still alive.

you had desperately wanted to take megumi with you but you didn’t have it in you take him away from his sister and, despite how you’d laid into him about how even he had limitations, you knew megumi was safer with gojo than you. in america, you were vulnerable to curse users and curses alike without the protection of any other sorcerers or specialist schools to help you.

the three of you probably looked like idiots to the other man in the room, all staring at each other too afraid to make the first room. it felt surreal to all be together again. you were afraid your longing to see them again had reached a point of insanity, and they were afraid of spooking you if they got too close too quickly.

megumi was the first one to make a move, stepping around the rows of seats and the centre coffee table till he stood a metre from you. “hi.”

your hand covered your mouth as you had to tilt your head up slightly to keep eye contact with the boy you’d raised since he was only a fraction of your height. you may not have changed but megumi had – both his height and voice – and the guilt of leaving him behind was overwhelming.

“oh my god, you’re so much taller than me.” you moved closer to him to gently grab ahold of his arms as you took in how much he had grown. there wasn’t a day that had gone by that you didn’t regret and feel guilt for leaving megumi and you only hoped he understood why you left him so suddenly. taking a step back, you gestured to his uniform, “what’s jujutsu high like?”

the words were bittersweet. what had leaving achieved apart from heartache? megumi was still a jujutsu student and gojo was still japan’s lifeline. maybe you would live a longer life in america, but was the life you had now worth the one you’d left behind?

“it’s…” megumi hesitated before clearing his throat, “it’s okay. there’s two other first years, yuuji and nobara. they’re alright.” you smiled at his words, flashbacks of your own childhood crossing your mind as you remembered the innocence of your first year. it was fun being in a class with two prodigies, you were mini celebrities in a world of rich and powerful sorcerers.

“i’m glad you’ve made some friends, megs,” the nickname rolled off your tongue too naturally and if megumi closed his eyes, maybe he could pretend that you were all still in japan and you were just catching up after being away on a prolonged mission. you glanced to the other sorcerer in the room who had remained silent up until this point – although he had silently made his way over. “i’m going to go speak with satoru in my office and then can i take you out for dinner? to talk properly?”

megumi nodded a little too eagerly, “yeah, please. i’ll just wait here.”

“perfect. satoru?” the acknowledgement was all the strongest sorcerer needed to be following behind you, keeping a distance of several paces as you led him inside your office.

gojo rested his forearm against one of the large ceiling height windows in your office that overlooked the city. you had to be at least twenty stories up and the blaring of car horns was simply a hum, vehicles appearing as mini red and yellow dots on the busy roads below.

“nice view.”

it was the first words he’d uttered in your presence and despite him being the one to initiate the venture to you, he had no idea what to say. this was likely his only chance to convince you to come back and he may have already screwed up by waiting as long as he had.

“what are you doing here?” you asked as you pushed your door shut, leaving the two of you in the privacy of your small office. it was nothing special; a chair, a desk with paperwork piling up and no photos whatsoever. there was no trace that you even existed beyond these four walls.

“don’t i at least get an ‘i miss you’? i just travelled over ten hours for you,” he said lightly, trying to ease the tension in the room but your voice was no longer as soft as it was when you spoke with megumi. the teenager had done nothing wrong – he was part of the reason you left.

“it’s been two years.” he didn’t have to turn around to know that your arms were probably crossed in front of your chest, your head tilted to the side as you waited for him to explain himself. except he thinks his past offences of stealing all of the sweets before halloween were a little more forgivable than letting you leave.

his hand turned to a fist as he dropped it from the window, turning around to look at you properly. “i know.”

both of you stared at one another, neither of you speaking as you took the other in.

“you chose them over me,” you accused. them being both the higher-ups and the whole of jujutsu itself. you’d given him a chance to have a normal life – a natural life in which you’d grow old together and die of old age – and he’d chosen the short life where he’d likely die before he turned thirty.

“you knew what you were signing up for,” he said and there was no malice behind the words though they still frustrated you. he was right to an extent, he’d sat you down after you’d finished school, just before he’d taken in megumi and given you an out. you chose to stay, fully believing that the two of you had already gone through your worst.

“i didn’t realise i’d always be on the losing side.”

“we weren’t always losing–”

you stepped closer to gojo as you held out your hand, counting each disaster after the other with your fingers, “haibara died, we almost died, geto defected, we took in megumi and the tensions between your clan and the zen’ins got ten times worse. you said you wanted to change jujutsu society and what had we done? i never knew if you’d come home to me after missions, it made me feel sick.”

“how do you think i felt coming home to a note?” you could count on your hands the amount of times you had seen gojo angry – and while he wasn’t all the way there he was teetering on the edge as he frustratedly lifted off his blindfold, throwing it onto your desk. in the same way you’d been desperate for him to hear what you were saying before you’d left, he was equally as desperate for you to hear him now. to see that he was here. “megumi? at least geto left for a purpose, you just left.”

it was an unfair dig – geto had committed mass murder, after all – but similar to the one that you’d pulled on him two years ago.

you clicked your tongue as you tried not to make it obvious how badly that made you want to cry, holding your hands up in surrender. “was it so wrong to want a life where i didn’t go to work thinking i would die? to want a future?”

“you were my future.” he sounded sad as he uttered them, and it looked foreign to see the gojo satoru look so dejected. there were only inches between the two of you now and despite the fact he towered over you, he appeared so small as he continued, “was i ever yours?”

memories of your late teenage years and early adulthood play out as a montage: from your first meeting when you’d both gotten lost on the train to school, to the tears you spilled as you finished writing your note and closed the door to his apartment for the last time.

“of course you were.” your voice was shaky, no longer holding any bite. until the day you’d left, since you were sixteen, you’d never envisioned a life without him.

gojo’s hand reached out to push your hair back from your neck, the little white scars still tarnishing your flawless skin. it was taking all of your resolve to not collapse into his arms and have him hold you like you knew he would. you were sure you’d believe him this time if he told you he could protect everyone, that he was in fact able to be in six places at once and still come out on top. “come back with us please.”

“satoru…” you dragged off, looking away as you fought between listening to your rationale that reminded you that nothing had really changed and your heart that missed being in love.

“just come back,” he repeated, “are you going to tell me you’ve found someone else? that you enjoy your life here?” it was wrong and selfish, he knew it, to be convincing you the way he was – to even be here full stop – but he missed you and he wasn’t ready to let you walk away again.

“i can’t lose you.” hesitantly you pressed your hands to his chest. for a second he was scared you were going to push him away, but you didn’t, fingers tightening around the material of his uniform.

“don’t be silly and travel halfway across the country then.” his voice was just above a whisper now as he brushed his nose against yours. “hey, look at me properly.”

you complied without any hesitation – you always did when it came to him. two years of no contact but your body still reacted on muscle memory to the sound of his voice. never in your life had you ever seen eyes like his, of course you hadn’t, and you were still taken aback by the full blue colour as he gazed down at you.

“tell me you don’t want me to kiss you.” you did want him to. “tell me you want me to walk out of this room and not turn back and i’ll do it.” he wouldn’t have left without you.

“i missed you,” you whispered, and that was all he needed to duck his head down to let your lips meet. gojo’s hand slipped round to the back of your neck, tugging you impossibly closer as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. you missed this, you missed him, and you were going to find it impossible to let go of him again.

only when your lungs ached to breathe did you force yourself to pull back from your ex boyfriend. gojo’s eyes were still focused on your lips and you didn’t doubt that if it were up to him, he’d be leaning to kiss you again. it was only the light push against his chest that held him back.

“what are we doing?” you asked, voice wavering from both the kiss and nerves. whilst there was no doubt in your mind that gojo was who you wanted, you had many reservations about reentering jujutsu society.

“about to ditch this place and go back to japan on a plane. all three of us.”

you brows furrowed together, “but–”

gojo held a finger up your lips, his other hand slipping into his back pocket, pulling out three plane tickets. “i already got your ticket, you don’t want it to go to waste do you?”

you lightly hit his arm and smiled up at him. he was grinning now and it didn’t need to be said aloud – he was yours again (though he’d never really stopped being such) and you were coming home. “that confident?”

“surprised you were able to resist me this long.” he pecked your cheek this time, a hint of tease in his tone like he hadn’t needed megumi to convince him to even enter your office building in the first place.

you let his joke slide with no rebuttal. “are you coming to dinner?” you hoped you hadn’t been keeping megumi too long.

“do you want me at dinner?” gojo asked.

you reached across to your desk to grab ahold of his blindfold and passed it to him. as much as you loved being able to see his eyes, you’d rather not be spending your first twenty four hours with him in bed complaining about a splitting headache. “i’m sure megs won’t mind. plus you can pay,” you added with a wink.

gojo raised an eyebrow, lips tugging up at the corners into a slight smirk, “oh so that’s the real reason why you missed me?”

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super sorry if ive missed anyone!

#snapshot !#gojo #gojo satoru #satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x yn #gojo series #gojo fic #jjk #gojo fluff #gojo drabbles #gojo imagines

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blackenedsnow · 8 days

Note

If you’re lookin’ for requests could we get a continuation of your Beetlejuice fic? Like, what sorts of things does Beej do through the house/apartment to prank you? What’s he do when/if you have to leave to go to work? I imagine he’d tag along incognito sometimes. How would that go? (I don’t send many fic requests so if this is a weird way to do it I’m sorry. But I figured if you’re asking for them I can brainstorm a little 😅)

dead guys got it made

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Beetlejuice x Reader

NOTE: No need to apologize! I love the direction you're taking with this. I'd be happy to continue the story!!

SUMMARY: Chaos ensues, of course

PART ONE: Here

The days after your reluctant agreement to let Beetlejuice stay in your home were, in a word, chaotic. He seemed to take your "don’t destroy the place" comment as more of a suggestion than an actual rule. Sure, he didn’t tear down walls or summon any maggots (yet), but there was plenty of mischief to go around.

You woke up one morning to find your living room furniture rearranged—your couch upside down on the ceiling, the TV somehow playing reruns of sitcoms from the ‘80s, and the floor covered in what looked like tiny plastic insects. You groaned, rubbing your temples as Beetlejuice appeared next to you, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"Pretty good, huh?" he asked, looking up at the couch hanging from the ceiling. "Took me all night, but I think it really adds to the ambiance."

"BJ," you muttered, staring at the mess, "how many times do I have to tell you? No messing with the furniture."

He cackled, snapping his fingers. Instantly, the room righted itself—couch back on the floor, TV back to normal. But the plastic bugs? Still there. "Alright, alright, no more redecorating. But I gotta keep things interesting, babes. Can’t have you getting bored, now can we?"

You bent down to scoop up the bugs, sighing. "I’m starting to think my life was less stressful before you showed up."

"Ah, but way more boring," Beetlejuice quipped, following you into the kitchen as you grabbed a coffee mug. "Admit it, you’d miss me if I wasn’t around to spice things up."

You ignored him, focusing instead on your workday ahead. “I’ve got to head to work soon,” you said, mostly to yourself, as you filled your mug. “You’re staying here today, right?”

“Sure, sure,” he said with a wave of his hand, leaning against the counter. “I’ll be good. Maybe I’ll watch some TV, raid your fridge, haunt your neighbors—you know, normal dead guy stuff.”

You shot him a look, trying to gauge how much of that was a joke. You were still figuring him out, trying to balance how much you could tolerate and how much you liked having him around. It was… complicated. But lately, the thought of leaving him alone in your home was almost more stressful than having him tag along. Still, you weren’t sure you could handle Beetlejuice at work, of all places.

"Alright," you said, setting your mug down, "I’ll trust you. Just… try not to haunt anyone this time, okay?"

Beetlejuice smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Cross my heart, babe,” he said, drawing a line over his chest. You didn’t trust that for a second, but you had no choice but to leave him behind and head out.

At Work

Everything seemed fine at first. You settled into your routine, the normalcy of it all providing a brief reprieve from your unusual houseguest. But then, halfway through the morning, you noticed something off.

Your pen was missing. And not just missing—floating midair, inches from your hand.

"Beetlejuice.," you hissed under your breath, scanning the room for any sign of him. Sure enough, from the corner of your eye, you saw a familiar flash of black and white dart behind a filing cabinet.

Of course he’d followed you. You should’ve known.

“Get back here,” you muttered, glancing around to make sure no one else saw the floating pen.

Suddenly, Beetlejuice appeared right next to you, leaning against your desk with a smug grin. He was dressed in some sort of disguise—a ridiculous pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap that didn’t hide anything. “Nice place you got here, babe. Real lively.”

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “I told you to stay at home.”

“Yeah, well, I got bored,” he said with a shrug. “Thought I’d see how my favorite breather spends their day.”

“This is not going to end well,” you mumbled, already dreading the inevitable..

The At-Work Antics

Beetlejuice, to his credit, tried to behave—for all of five minutes. Then the pranks began. It started small: pens going missing, your keyboard typing random words on its own. But as the day wore on, he grew bolder.

At one point, your boss, Mr. Thompson, came by to drop off some news. You tried to stay focused, nodding along as he talked, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw Beetlejuice sneaking up behind him, his eyes full of mischief.

"Don’t," you mouthed, but it was too late.

With a flick of his hand, Beetlejuice made Mr. Thompson’s tie start dancing—literally. The fabric wriggled and twisted as though it had a life of its own, and you watched in horror as your boss froze, staring down at his tie in confusion.

“What the—” Mr. Thompson muttered, tugging at the tie, but it kept moving.

You shot Beetlejuice a death glare, mouthing “Stop it” as discreetly as possible. He just winked, looking way too pleased with himself, and finally let the tie drop limp again.

Mr. Thompson blinked, bewildered, but seemed to shake it off. “Must be static or something,” he muttered before walking off, completely unaware of the ghostly trickster behind him.

You exhaled in relief. “Beej, I swear…”

“Hey, I didn’t get caught, did I?” Beetlejuice cackled, clearly enjoying himself. “Lighten up, honey. You gotta admit, that was funny.”

“You’re going to get me fired,” you hissed, though you couldn’t completely stifle the laugh bubbling up in your chest.

For the rest of the day, Beetlejuice stayed close, pulling small pranks here and there. A co-worker’s coffee inexplicably turned neon green, another’s stapler kept vanishing from their desk. Every time you saw that flash of stripes, your heart raced in equal parts anxiety and amusement.

After Work

By the time you made it home, you were exhausted. Beetlejuice had finally vanished, likely slipping back to your home long before you could leave. When you walked through the door, he was sprawled across the couch as usual, looking far too smug.

“Fun day at work?” he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re a menace,” you muttered, dropping your bag on the floor. “A complete and utter menace.”

“And yet, you didn’t banish me,” he shot back, his grin widening. “So… you really do love having me around.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t quite argue with him. As frustrating as it was having him tag along—and as much as he drove you crazy—you had to admit, life was a lot less lonely with him in it.

“Maybe,” you muttered, flopping onto the couch beside him. “Just… try not to get me fired next time, alright?”

Beetlejuice chuckled, tossing an arm around your shoulders. “No promises, toots. But I’ll try not to ruin your life.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice x reader #keatlejuice #keatlejuice x reader #tim burton #tim burton x reader #oneshot #x reader #ask #request

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chasingwhitebunnies · 1 year

Text

I feel a bit silly writing this because I’m sure other people must have but I’ve not seen anything about it

(SPOILERS - I’ll also tag)

I really love how we see Coriolanus’s character descent into who he becomes through each of his kills

His first kill is Bobbin. It was self-defence, kill-or-be-killed. If he hadn’t done it, he probably would have been killed himself, but this sticks with him. Coriolanus is horrified when he realises he took someone’s life. He thinks about it for a long time.

His next kill is Mayfair Lipp, the mayor’s daughter. It’s not self-defence, but he sees it that way. In a way, he’s got a point. She would have reported him, and he would have been hanged. So would Lucy Gray, so he shot her. This time, however, he had a choice. Maybe not much choice, but it was there. He chose to shoot her, but it doesn’t affect him anywhere near as much as Bobbin’s death

The third is the hardest. He doesn’t pull the trigger or tie the noose, but he might as well have. He betrays Sejanus. Sejanus who loves him like a brother. Sejanus who he has known since they were children. He made the decision in a moment and he questions himself afterwards, but he still made that choice. He reasons to himself internally that it was necessary and Sejanus was bound to get himself in trouble, anyway, right? Right? So it’s okay. But it’s not okay. The blood is on his hands and he keeps thinking of the moments they spent together before the betrayal. He benefits from his death and is rewarded for his loyalty. How ironic

Next is Lucy Gray. Possibly. For argument’s sake, let’s say he did kill her. He calls out for her, his gun slung over his shoulder. He realises how she might be scared, the gun sending the wrong message… but he doesn’t put it back. He brings it with him, not to use it, he tells himself. He would never use it, definitely not. He just… wants to talk some sense into her. As soon as the snake bites him, he abandons all pretence. Even though he admitted moments ago he understood why she would be scared, now she’s the enemy. Now she has to pay. How dare she. Not even an hour ago, he had plans to run away with her. He claimed he loved her. They were going to be together. Now, he’s chasing her through the trees with a gun in his hands and he’s screaming for her to show herself. He shoots a lot. When he thinks he finally got her, he’s pleased. It was her own fault, he tells himself, for the snake trick. Even afterwards, when he finds out that the snake wasn’t venomous - which Lucy Gray definitely would have known and therefore was only intended to slow him down - he doesn’t have a single moment of regret. The only thing he regrets is falling for her in the first place and he swears he’ll never do it again. His heart is stone. Frozen like snow.

Finally, his last kill (before the ones that take place once this book ends) is Dean Highbottom. This is the first kill that is not made in a split-second. This is premeditated. He carefully adds just enough rat poison to the morphling, sure to wear gloves, and sets his plan in motion. He has every opportunity to change his mind, to not resort to violent means. Not only does he not regret it, he feels proud. Excited, even. He hopes Dean Highbottom will know it was him that killed him

By the epilogue, Snow has gotten over (or buried deep enough) what guilt he had over Sejanus enough to use the Plinths’ grief to his advantage without any conflicting feelings. He’s convinced himself Lucy Gray was the villain who played him, when she was just a sixteen-year-old girl who was forced into a terrible situation. As we know, he goes on to directly and indirectly kill thousands between TBOSAS and THG, too many. I doubt he remembers most of them, just nameless, faceless children. He doesn’t care anymore, not like he did the first time

The whole world is his Arena. Snow lands on top until it melts

#SPOILERS THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES #SPOILERS TBOSAS #THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES SPOILERS #tbosas spoilers #(melted by fire in case my on the nose metaphor was too subtle)#tbosas #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #Dean Highbottom #casca highbottom #Mayfair lipp #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #bobbin TBOSAS #500

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lunaviee · 2 years

Note

can i request where reader cant go to their match and they got angry which makes them say the word "i shouldve invite *ex's name*, she wouldve come." and reader reaction can be up to you! with rin and maybe chigiri? thank you so much and please stay hydrate! sending loves <33

OHHH MYYY GODDD ANONNN……..

the way i gasped so loud when i saw this OMGOMG

okay so, idk if you’re wanting PURE ANGST for this but like i’ll add fluff at the end anyway bc the more the merrier😇😁😁

OKAY SO UMM..i’m a procrastinator, it’s no secret. so uhh chigiris will be posted when i remember to work on it, sorry😭

“are you serious?” “you’re..kidding, right?”

chigiri hyoma and rin itoshi x reader (seperate) click here for chigiri’s

tags/warnings: angst to comfort, swearing, arguing, NOT PROOFREAD…

synopsis: if he’s so insistent on you being there to support him, why doesn’t he do the same?

a/n: i am SO SORRY this took so long </3 i got busy but this request is soo..chefs kiss i hope i did it justice😓

RIN ITOSHI—

the faint mumbles from the tv filled rin’s apartment as you made a quick snack to eat, knowing your boyfriend should be home any minute. you sat down on the couch to eat, turning the tv volume up as background noise while you looked out the window. it faced a gorgeous view of your city, along with a nice view of the sunset.

after some time, you were back in the kitchen to clean up a bit.

*click*

the jingling of keys indicated rin was home, a tad later that usual but you payed no mind to it.

“hey,” you smiled, “welcome home, how was practice?” arms wrapping around his neck as he set his bag down, taking his shoes off. his arm snaked around your waist to pull you closer to him, planting a kiss on your temple.

“eh, same as always. those lukewarm lunatics don’t know what they’re doing”

you hummed in response, rin pulling away from you to look you in the eye. he spoke again. “we have a game in a few days. you’re going, right?” it sounded more like a demand than a question.

“oh uh about that” you broke eye contact, a twinge of nervousness tainted your face. “i was given an extra shift at work so i’ll be swamped, i don’t think i’ll be able to make it, sorry”

his before softened gaze now pierced right through you, full of annoyance. “really? i thought you’d want to come to my games.” his arms left your torso and flopped to his side, lower back resting on the counter.

“i do! i always do..rin you know this, i go to your games when i can but lately i’ve just been more busy an-” you rambled.

he cut you off, “quit the excuses.”

“excuse me?” you replied, shocked at how his silver tongue was so quick to interrupt you.

“i get it. you’re busy. you don’t have to make up these half-baked excuses and try to make me feel better.” he moved from the counter, straightening his back and showing his full height, looking down on you as if you were less than him at that moment.

“excuses? rin, what the hell are you talking about? i’m being serious.” confusion swirled in your mind, what was up with him??

“you know, i never had these problems with *ex’s name*. she was always happy to come to my games. no excuses, no lies. every game, she was there. why can’t you be like that?” rin’s venom stained words singed into your brain, glints of annoyance pooled in his eyes. a twinge of guilt settled in his gut the minute those words spilled out of his mouth, but he payed no mind to it.

“what?” your eyes widened in disbelief, “are you fucking serious?”

how could he say that? sure, rin was petty and used bitter language when he was upset, but comparing you to his ex? that was a new low, even for him. after all of the crap you two talked about when mentioning both of your exes in the past, you’d assume he’d want absolutely nothing to do with her. right?

“why wouldn’t i be?” not once did his gaze leave your figure, was he serious? “she actually took my career seriously.”

you were beyond shocked, eyes narrowing as your brows knitted together. “invite her then.” you retorted. “maybe i will, maybe then i’ll have someone who actually supports me there.” he scoffed.

his words made your blood boil, eye twitching before you spoke again, “get out.” you gritted through your teeth, fingers fiddling with the hem of your (his) sweater as to not lose your cool.

“what?” he scoffed, not expecting such a response (he really should have, what was he thinking??)

“did i fucking stutter? or is your skull too thick to hear what i have to say. get. out.”

the strikers face further scrunched, yet not moving an inch. “this is my apartment. if you’re upset, then leave.” he brushed past you without a single regret as to what he had said, not entirely believing you’d actually leave, where else did you have to go?

“fine then.” you slipped your shoes on while dialing a number on your phone before slamming the door, leaving the rin to sit with his thoughts. you had much, much more to say, but the thought of having to stay in the same vicinity as you made your stomach churn.

who did you call? why, your best friend of course, who else would you trust with this information. sure, rin’s teammates weren’t bad people to open up to, but you needed someone who could understand your feelings through angry sobs and incoherent mumbles.

it was only a matter of time before you were sat on yours friends bed, angry tears burning your cheeks as you rambled on about how dumb your boyfriend was.

“break up with him” your friend mumbled, only half joking. “me personally, i wouldn’t stay with a man, nah, a BOY who brings up his ex when he’s mad..”

you lifted your head from the tear stained pillow to meet your friend’s gaze. “yeah but……ugh i hate when you’re right” your sentence ending with a laugh

“i’m kidding..kind of” she sneered “either way, screw him, ghost his ass until he comes crying at your doorstep”

“what??” you shot up from your position, now almost on top of your friend. she was faced you, a more serious expression painting her face

“seriously though, you shouldn’t have to deal with that shit [n/n], he has the be the one to apologize.” you nodded in response, good thing your friend had a bit more common sense than you did in that moment.

“yeah, you’re right, thanks”

“any time, now do you wanna stay here or are you good to go home?”

“i’ll stay here and bug you more”

“okay then” she laughed out, the two of you now laying on the bed on your backs, staring at the ceiling

• { time skip - two days later } •

the radio silence that came from rin was like torture, did he not care? not a single text or phone call, not even a message given from one of his teammates. it was hard to stay positive.

sure, he deserved the silent treatment, but he was your boyfriend. his company single-handedly made your days better. being separated because of a fight that he didn’t want to resolve was stupid.

your friend tried taking you out today to get your mind off of the situation. it was going well, up until you walked into your favorite cafe.

you were met with a face you were too familiar with. rin’s. his eyes widened in disbelief and he twitched, almost as if he was about to run after you. and so you and your friend took one good look at him and immediately left. if the argument was going to be resolved, it wasn’t going to be in a public cafe.

your friend pushed you by the shoulders as you both shuffled out of the doors, you pulling out your phone to find another place to go to at the same time.

“shit.” was the only thing that rin had managed to mutter out as he saw the two of you running away from the cafe. it’s not that he wanted to avoid you. it’s that he was ashamed. he was scared that nothing he would say would amount to enough of an apology for what he said.

rin was scared that this was the end of you two. his worst fears of losing the one person he knew loved and understood him were coming true and is was his fault. the past few days were filled with doubt and regret, his teammates even noticing his practices were depleting.

the rest of the day came and went, your friend dropped you off back at your apartment where you collapsed on the couch, left with your thoughts once again. you were about to just pass out on your couch and ditch work the next morning, like you have been for the past few days.

that was until you heard a frantic knock on your door, jolting you awake. your worried expression dropped to one of annoyance and bitterness; it was rin. but, he looked different. his usually blank expression was now one of exhaustion and hurt.

he’d been..crying?

your eyes widened in confusion, you opened your mouth to tell him to leave before he cut you off.

“i’m sorry” he blurted out

he was looking down to you, except it was much different than before. rin looked desperate, his eye contact only further confirmed it.

he reached his hand out to place it on your shoulder, hesitating. you opened the door to let him in, sitting on the edge of your couch next to each other.

“i’m so sorry [name].”

“i know.”

“it was stupid, you mean so much to me and i..i ruined it.”

“i know.”

“please, you don’t need to forgive me now i just…”

he paused. rin’s head moved to look at the ground.

“i just need to know you won’t leave me. you can ignore me for as long as you’d like and i’d understand. but just…please i need you back” he begged, small tears brimming at his eyes, what a rare sight to see.

silence fell between the two of you, but it wasn’t like the comfortable silences you’ve shared before. it was tense and awkward.

“okay” your voice was barely above a whisper, “i won’t leave you, i think we both know that” you say with a smile.

rin looked back up at you, eyes wide, full of hope and relief.

“but listen i…” the moonlight only further highlighted just how much the two of you had been crying

“it’s gonna take some time. that was really fucked up, you know that?”

“yeah..yeah i know. i’m sorry. you’re nothing like her i-”

“i know.”

the two of you were now looking at each other, faces flushed from crying and relief. the silence was comfortable again.

“let’s just..go to sleep, yeah? we can talk about it in the morning, i think we both could discuss better afterwards” you offered, leaning closer to the armrest of your couch as you were too tired to go to your bed

rin hummed back in response, laying on your chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. your hands found their way to his hair, heartbeats practically synchronizing.

“you know..i’m still not going to your game” you whispered, peeking one eye open to watch your boyfriend. he smiled, “i know” a laugh spilled out of his mouth before you both fell asleep.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #angst #comfort #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #bllk rin #✩ vie writes

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thewritetofreespeech · 16 days

Text

Night 82: Practice

words: 2193

rating: E

pairing: Gale x Tav

summary: Gale's first day at Blackstaff Academy was fast approaching, so he and Tav decide to practice with a little student/teacher role play

tags: heterosexual sex (m/f), roleplay, student/teacher roleplay, all members are of age, use of magic, fingering, cunnilingus, rough sex, bend-me-over-the-desk-daddy, Gale is a nervous nelly.

Ao3 - 1000 Night Series

---------------------------🟣----------------------------------

His first day at Blackstaff Academy was fast approaching, and Gale didn’t think he had been this anxious since it was his last first day as a student.

Being offered a teaching position at his alma mater was a dream come true. To be so respected for his magical abilities to instruct others, and perhaps caution them through his follies, was something Gale didn’t realize he wanted so much until he got it. He wanted to make a good first impression. To that end, he was running himself in circles trying to get everything just right. Churning his stomachs into knots in the process.

“I really think it’s going to be fine Gale.” Tav told him, from her safe place on the couch amongst his chaos, trying to soothe him.

“But if I can’t find this damned book then my lesson won’t make any sense!” He insisted.

“Are you going to read the whole book to the class on the first day?”

“Well…no.”

“Are you going to assign them to read it on the first day?”

“Gods no. The text in this book are far too advanced for novice apprentices to even comprehend, much less replicate.”

“Then why do you need it?”

Gale stopped his rummaging. Realizing in his wife’s perfectly boiled down words that she was right. He sighed. “I just…I want to make a good impression on the students…”

“You’re Gale Dekarios,” Tav told him, as if he had forgotten, “formally Gale of Waterdeep, Mystra’s Chosen, and one of the saviors of Faerun. I think the impression has already been made.”

Gale chuckled once. Leave it to Tav to give him a boost of confidence, should his coffers ever run low. “Yes, well, now I want to add ‘teacher extraordinary’ to my apparently long resume.” He came over to sit next to Tav on her couch; in what little space was left to her. “I’ve just never taught anyone before. What if I’m not any good at it?”

“You taught me.” Tav reminded him. The two of them both mentally drifting back to that night in the woods where they shared a moment of magic, connecting with the Weave.

“That is different. A simple incantation done by practiced, beautiful hands.” He told her. “But teaching wizards who wish to master the Weave, to be the foundation on which they build their temple of study, it’s a lot of pressure. If I fail at a spell or incantation, I have nothing to show for it except a sore head and perhaps a few singed eyebrows, but if I fail them….”

“Why don’t we practice?” Tav suggested suddenly.

“Practice?” Gale repeated curiously. As if even that simple concept was lost to him (his students were truly doomed).

“Yeah! Practice! You go through your whole first day lesson and I shall play the part of your eager, attentive student.”

Gale laughed. He had to admit, an eager & attentive Tav was something that was conjuring images not fit for a classroom, but her concept was sound in theory. “Alright. Let’s give it a whirl. But if we’re going to do this,” Gale waved his hand and in a blink, they were no longer standing in their living room but a memory of his own former classroom, “let’s do it right.”

Tav beamed and looked around the illusionary room in awe. Gale wondering if it was the visions of room or the details of his illusion that had her undivided attention. He’d have to show her one day. Walk her around the school. Show her the gardens. Where he used to hide out from the headmaster when he was in trouble. His classroom both then and now. He couldn’t wait.

“First things first, my students will always have to show up to class in proper uniform attire.” He snapped his fingers and Tav flinched as her outfit changed from her common clothes into Blackstaff Academy robes. Making her giggle.

“Of course, Professor.” Gale felt his back go a little straighter when she said that.

He watched as she went over to one of the desks and sat in the front row. Bright eyes. Bright smile. Chin in her hands as the picture of enthusiasm, and the perfect distraction. “Alright, teach me Professor Dekarios.”

Oh…this may have been a bad idea….

For all his wayward thoughts, not fit for a member of the illustrious Blackstaff Academy, Gale felt he did very well for a practice run. Tav took her role very seriously. She paid attention. She asked questions. Hells she even took notes. If he didn’t think about the fact that she was his wife and they were actually standing in their living room for a moment, he would have truly believed that all of this was real.

“So, how did I do?”

“You did wonderfully. Your other students are going to love you.”

Gale smiled softly at Tav, now that they were standing together in classroom like any other post lecture chit-chat, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’ll always be my favorite student though.”

“Oh really?” That grin that Gale knew all too well coiled its way on to Tav’s lips. She took a step closer. Leaning her weight forward into his personal space while her hands just barely rested on his hips. “Do favorite students get preferential treatment?”

“They certainly do.” His own hands reach out for her. Closing the gap between them as he stared into her eyes. “If they’re good.”

“Oh, I’m a very good girl.” A whine bubbled up Gale’s throat, just about to come out before he swallowed it back down. “So, what do I get, Professor?”

Gale lunged forward with his lips to capture Tav’s in a kiss. Unable to hold back anymore. He was almost ashamed to admit how turned on he was. Using his new, illustrious, highly respected job as a form of role play but Gods was he hard.

He kissed her recklessly. Still with the presence of mind to keep his illusion intact as he turned them around, so Tav’s back was against the desk. “Sit.” Instantly, she did as she was told. Like the word was some manner of incantation lock like what he just covered in his lecture. “That’s my good girl.” Gale doesn’t miss Tav’s own whimper that doesn’t stay locked inside her throat. “You did so well in class today. Eager. Attentive.” There were those words again. Only this time he could put them into a different kind of practice. “I think eager young students should get rewards. Positive encouragement is the cornerstone of my teaching methods.” With the tip of his finger, Gale pressed against the spot where her collarbones met and slid down. His finger acting like a knife to his illusion as it ‘cut away’ her uniform. The long robes peeling back from her until they were no more than an open cloak around her naked body.

“Gale,” Tav hissed once her skin was exposed; likely from the cool rush of air on her skin, or the brush of magic tickling away as the illusion gave way to some reality. He gave her one stern, but playfully, look and she instantly corrected to, “oh..I mean…Professor.” His clever, clever girl.

He kissed her again. Holding the back of her head close to him. Tav then gasped loudly into his mouth. Her head tilting back. “What’s this you’ve brought me then, hm?” Gale asked as he continued to touch her. His whole hand cupping her while his fingers played with the wet slit they found there. “Certainly doesn’t feel like an apple for your teacher. But maybe it’s just as sweet.”

Falling to his knees between hers, Gale pushed her legs apart to devour her. Hungry for her to the point of drooling almost as much as her cunt. Her hands braced behind her on the desk as she tilted back. Her face towards the sky as she moaned for him. “Oh Gods Gale…! Mhmm….! Fuck right there!”

“Such language from my most gifted student.” Gale scolded as he pulled back.

Tav whined. Her body literally twitching with desire. “Gale…mmm..Professor…” He rewarded her by sliding his index & middle finger over her entrance, between her wet folds and her clit, for remembering their game. “Please don’t stop….”

“Ssh..ssh…ssh…” Gale hushed Tav gently, though his fingers never stopped what they were doing. He then slipped them in. Her opening eager to accept but clenching frantically for want of something more. “Shall we continue your oral exam, or do you want to move on to harder lessons.”

“Harder lessons Professor, please.” He doesn’t want to think of his wife as a slut, but the way she spread her legs with his fingers still inside her, leaning back on his desk, non-verbally begging Gale to fuck her, she looked downright filthy. “I’m ready for a more indepth education.”

Pulling his fingers free from her to use both hands on his belt to get it off faster, Gale pulled out his throbbing cock and thrust it inside her. He didn’t even bother with the rest of his clothes. Behaving as if they had no time for him to take them off. Like someone could walk in from another class at any moment, they were so lost in the illusion. Tav didn’t seem to mind as she moaned greedily against his ear. Her hands fisting in his shirt. “Fuck me hard, Professor. Teach me a lesson.” Gale growled and nipped at her ear. Tav squealed before descending into moans as he did what she asked.

The desk wasn’t as helpful as one would have thought. It lent to the aesthetic and overall fantasy of the moment but didn’t provide a lot of leverage in their current position. All a matter of perspective though, and what kind of teacher would Gale be if he wasn’t a problem solver?

He pulled his cock out, all shiny and wet, before he moved Tav from the desk and flipped her over. A much better position as her hands now braced her in the front and her ass stuck out towards him; illusionary robes long gone now as either Gale willed them to vanish or his spell was cracking on its own with his attention divided, he couldn’t quite tell. Taking only a moment to admire the new vision before him, like any good lover of art, Gale thrust back into Tav hard and continued their rough game.

The sounds she made were invigorating. Loud shouts. Breathy moans. Sharp cries of ecstasy.

“Mmm…Professor…” She was completely lost in the fantasy now. “You’re being so rough…”

“That’s what you asked for, isn’t it.” Tav groaned as his hand wrapped around his throat to tilt it up towards him. His chest against her back as he whispered in her ear. “For me to fuck you hard. Even before you asked with your words. Staring up at me with those big eyes from your desk. You asked for this.”

“Yes.” Her nails scratched against the wood and some muffled version of the word ‘more’ fell from her lips.

“Do you do that for all your professors? Look up at them with those big, beautiful eyes for attention? For praise?”

“N-No.”

“Why is that?”

“I only want you.”

It was Gale’s turn to groan, and he turned Tav’s head as far as it would go to pull her in for a big, sloppy kiss. During this, he felt Tav’s wall shutter around him. Her body quake as her hands fought to keep purchase on the desk. Destroying the imaginary papers scattered on top of them. He lasted a few more thrusts before he came too. His resolve snapping like an overstrung cord, along with his spell.

Without his illusions, their mount disappeared and they fell to the floor. Gale tried to brace them as much as he could to cushion the fall. Feeling the pain in his shoulder though, after he successfully ‘saved them’, he had to wonder why he didn’t conjure some real cushions. “Are you alright?”

“I’m better than alright.” Tav told him. She didn’t seem phased at all by their stumble. But then again stumbles, of any kinds, never seemed to keep her down. She pulled herself free from him but then turned around to face him. Head in her hand with her elbow on the floor. “So, Professor, how did I rate?”

“Oh, full marks all around.” He teased back. Pulling her in for a proper kiss now that they were facing each other. “But I always have time to offer extra credit, for my most industrious students.”

Tav giggled. The sound and that smile infectious. “Do you feel better about your first day now?”

“Well, I can’t do any of that with my students.” He quipped. “But the first part, yes. I think it really helped. I feel I really have a command of it now, although that might be the residual endorphins talking.” Tav snorted, but then curled up beside him.

They seemed content to lay there for a while on the floor. Enjoying the moment. “I still wish I could find that book though.”

“Gale!”

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dogs2shouldvote · 1 year

Text

during my latest relisten of taz balance, i recorded every line i found even the slightest bit funny with zero context, not even who said it (though some are pretty obvious). here’s all my favorites!!

“i’m probably studying.. my cantrips”

“just say mastrubating, dad”

“don’t come in mom i’m studying my canteips!!”

“yeah you’ll do any dumb shit”

“it’s like a bag of holding! but for.. ass.”

“do we know how much damage we did to him?”

“six damage, you said it out loud with your mouth.”

“it should be in the player’s handbook! get your salty snack to enjoy while you play dnd”

“my grandpa says it’s rude to whisper. especially on a train!”

“i’m not going to go toe to toe with a crab while youre armed with a terrible scottish accent and travis doesn’t even have his sheild. i’m out! … did i say travis? i mean leman kessler.”

“nope! that was wrong all the way around.”

“i’m cosplaying taako right now, as a stupid man.”

“who’s just rolling dice? who is doing secret checks that i don’t know about?”

“i always waste my 20’s on perception checks. like i give a shit.”

“it’s completely conceivable he would have a name tag.”

“IN A GANG?”

“like a pelt??? like a bramble*pelt*?????”

“is there a math check? what are you talking about?”

“yeah it’s your fucking brain. you use your brain to add numbers together”

“16”

“what are you fucking doing??”

“griffin i love you youre my brother. but if my skill called history doesn’t literally help me with history trivia questions in a category called history what are we FUCKING doing here??”

“can i ask you a question? are you guys mean to everyone?”

“fus-ro-over dere”

“that one was actually a badass bernie sanders”

“hey thug! what’s your name? i’m about to tentacle your dick.”

“a d6 is like some dice ass dice. that’s some monopoly shit.”

“i thought you were saying merle, it’s his bread and his body, take 2d6 healing points”

“you two remind me of something… you remind me of the babe! and then i throw the glass sphere at them.”

“make a constitution saving throw to see if you can eat this fucking rock with your mouth.”

“dungeons and dragons is a. great game.”

“my name is magnus burnsides”

“marchins burchens”

“magnus would not say that. however, travis would.”

“can we please not talk about chekhov’s bush?”

“we’ve got a ball, a sack, and a tool!”

“everything is gross here in dnd.”

“only losers smoke, isaac.”

“i give isaac an hour long lecture about the dangers of smoking.”

“i’m just gonna put my mouth down there and go buck wild”

“there’s a lot of go cart tracks called the adventure zone and i’ve been working with my lawyer to shut them all down forever”

“does taako fish?”

“yeah taako fishes.”

“a rock hard-“

*justin, clint, and travis laugh*

“come ON, *really*?”

“taako rushes in!”

“what! magnus follows him.”

“merle’s good out here!”

“WHAT is going on?”

“how do you not have a d6 it comes with every board game”

“my daughter-“

“eats them for power???”

“uhhh how much health do you have.”

“im not gonna tell you.”

“let’s see… i am going to hurt jenkins. with a magical spell.”

“this is about to become the taako show starring taako.”

“BLUFF FUCKING BLUFF O’CLOCK?? WHAT IS THIS, HALF PAST PERSUASION TIME??”

“i’m not laughing in game” *justin fucking loses it*

“she’s the best at burning shit ever.”

“traaav griffin got to do his show for so long and now he’s gonna destroy yours.”

“fucking lup finds like. a gun.”

“for sure, keep it sleazy. we’re out, bye!”

“i have to believe…. i’m gonna get those fifteen dollars back from greg fucking grimaldis”

“based on the rules of the game, dad… you die.”

“dad’s making a jerk off motion at me”

“don’t play the pennywise card like you ALWAYS try to”

“should i talk slower so that everybody who has been complaining about us not playing dnd has time to nut?”

“i am a wizard. my name is taako. and i am pretty well fucked.”

“yeah i’ve got cumin who do you think i am?”

“hear that, babe? we’re *legends*”

“i’m clint mcelroy and i played merle hightower-“

“nope”

#i actually have a ton more #taz balance #taz balance spoilers #kinda #the adventure zone balance #mcelroys #taz #the adventure zone #mcelroy brothers #taako taaco #merle highchurch #magnus burnsides

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whimsiwitchy · 2 months

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I hear the secrets that you keep (series)

chapter five: i missed you

Pedro Pascal x Plus size F!reader

series masterlist

series summary: 24 year old y/n is an insecure and struggling actress in Los Angeles until she finally books a leading role in a big Hollywood movie next to her leading male, Pedro Pascal. A spark of friendship flickers between the two and slowly begins to blossom into something more. As y/n is navigating a new found fame and a new found romance, she fears that a lie she has been sitting on might ruin everything.

Warnings: plus size reader (no specific description of reader, slight descriptions of weight: stomach fat, stretch marks, etc.), hefty age gap (24 years/14 years), female anatomy description, she/her pronouns, use of gendered terms (girl, girly, etc.), y/n used, descriptions of nudity, swearing, use of the word fat, daddy kink (not really, but it’s kinda mentioned), sexual themes. warnings may change as the story progresses.

authors note: Hi everyone. I’ve been spending more time trying to add more detail in my writing, so I hope there’s a small improvement in this chapter. I also want to make the chapters lengthier in the future but we’ll see lol. There’s a tag list to the series now, any information about it is at the bottom of the chapter!

chapter summary: Pedro misses y/n and comes to bother her at work.

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

Life moved on so quickly and there was never enough time to savor your favorite moments. Everything around you changed within a blink of an eye and you hadn't had a single second to just sit and think. You wanted nothing more than to be able to stop time for just a few minutes, just to process how dramatically your life had changed within such a short span of time.

The kiss you had shared with Pedro was nothing short of perfect, but after the high seemed to wear off, you became hyper aware of just how fucked this entire situation was. Whatever was brewing between the two of you was exciting, thrilling, and you wanted nothing more than to dive in head first- but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t scare the absolute shit out of you at the same time. Being around Pedro has felt so easy. You were still getting to know him and vice versa, but the attraction was there. He so clearly told you that he thought you were beautiful and enjoyed spending time with you. It kind of freaked you out at first, how fast everything was moving between you, but he was a man. He wasn’t some boy that was just using you to pass time, he was a real man who knew what he wanted and went for it. It ignited a flame in you that you wouldn’t be able to put out even if you tried.

As much as you were enjoying whatever was happening with Pedro, you couldn’t help shake the fact that you were technically lying to him. You tried to tell him the truth, you really had, but you got interrupted, and everything else happened so fast. You knew you would have to tell him the truth at some point, but you were terrified of how he would react to the news. You could only imagine what would happen when he finds out that the woman he had been flirting with and even kissed wasn’t actually 14 years younger but instead a whopping 24 years younger.. It wasn’t like you lied to him on purpose. It wasn’t even a lie you had started in the first place, it was a lie Angie constructed to get your career up and moving. People in the industry lie about their age all time, right?

It’s been an entire week since the kiss. The day after the kiss, Pedro had texted you, and the two of you had been texting consistently ever since. Three days after the kiss, you saw Pedro in person again. You had filmed the roller skating scene and went to get tacos after in celebration of filming your first ever professional movie scene. Neither of you had mentioned the kiss at all. Everything was normal between you guys. He was flirty, you were awkward, and life moved on.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when a makeup artist came to do some touch ups. Today you were on set to film a few solo shots, meaning Pedro wasn’t here. It was kind of weird, him not being here, everything you had done in this process had involved him somehow and you missed his presence. The makeup artist, Elizabeth, removed your previous eyeshadow and replaced it with a light orange color with a dramatic wing set in white eyeliner that matched your current costume perfectly. You were called to the studio at four in the morning and it was creeping up on five in the afternoon. You were exhausted. You didn’t have a lot to film, with most of the time being taken by costume and makeup changes between yourself and any extras in the scenes. Once Elizabeth was done, you made your way from the makeshift vanity over to the next set to film your final shots of the day.

You were released from set almost two hours later. You practically ran to the small trailer that sat just outside on the studio lot with your name plastered across the door. If you weren’t so tired, you probably would have shed a few tears at the sight of it. As soon as you walk in, you plop down in the ‘directors’ style chair that sits in front of a lighted mirror.

“Hey there hot stuff”

You almost jump out of the chair and let out a startled scream. You looked over to the right to see Pedro lounging on a small sofa that was connected to the wall of the trailer. He was wearing a pair of black lounge shorts, paired with a Los Angeles Lakers shirt that was their signature gold color. He wore a small smirk and you noticed that he was sporting a funky looking mustache instead of the full facial hair you had become accustomed to.

“Oh my fucking god P, you scared the shit out of me.” Both of your hands were gripping either side of the chair and you tried to slow your heart rate down. “How’d you even get in here dude, jesus christ.”

He lets out a small laugh. “I have my ways sweetheart. How did filming go?”

“It was fine. I’m fucking drained though.” Your hands finally relax and you lean back into the chair in a casual manner.

“Yea it can be that way sometimes. Just wait until you're back on set with me. I’ll make sure you aren’t bored.” He winks. Your mind wanders for a moment before changing the subject.

“When did you get the porn stache?” You laugh and point to his upper lip.

“Oh this old thing? They shaved it a few days ago when I started filming more.” He runs one hand across his slightly stubbled jaw.

“It suits you.” You say with a hum.

He stays quiet for a moment and you look at him. He sits up straight on the couch, spreading his legs apart slightly. “Come here sweetheart.” He says while reaching out for you. You take a few steps towards him and he's grabbing your hands.

“I missed you.” He whispers while pulling you to stand in between the gap of his thighs. You weren’t entirely sure what he meant by that. Did he miss being around you? Did he miss kissing you? It really didn’t matter, because you missed him too, so you told him.

“I missed you too.” you admit outloud.

His hands let go of yours and instead make their way to your waist. He pulls you forward gently.

“I want you to sit on my lap, can you do that for me baby?”

Baby.

What you had with Pedro was unique. There wasn’t any discussion on what either of you had felt, but the night he kissed you, it created an unspoken agreement of sorts- there was a spark and you both weren’t afraid to explore it.

“P, I can’t. I’ll crush you.” He gives you a look of disapprovement. You were always too aware of your weight in intimacy. Knowing that you were heavier than what most guys were used to, made you avoid any situation that involved any weight being placed on another person.

“Just come straddle me baby, use your knees for support if you’re that worried about it okay? I just wanna feel you sweetheart, we can stop if you ever feel uncomfortable. Does that sound okay?” He’s rubbing from your waist, down to your haps, and back up again. It’s comforting and you know that you can trust him- you know that he isn’t going to make fun of you.

You give him a nod and slowly lower yourself to straddle him, knees touching the couch on either side of his legs, holding yourself up slightly.. He places one hand on each of your thighs, slightly digging into them.

“Atta girl.” he says, his voice slightly deeper. A shiver runs down your spine and the gravel of his voice gives you the confidence to slide yourself down further and apply more weight onto his lap.

“You know, I've been aching to kiss you again.” He looks up and trains his eyes to yours.

“Then do it.” You say, your voice small.

He puts his hands around your waist, positioning his hands right above your ass and pulls you forward. He leans up towards you and you lean down meeting his lips halfway. Your lips start moving against him in a comfortable rhythm. The kiss starts off slow and innocent, both of you savoring the feeling that you both had been craving. His grunts and his hands fall lower fully cupping each ass cheek, giving them both a tight squeeze. You let out a small gasp to which he takes as an invitation to sneak his tongue into your mouth. This snaps you into reality and you pull back for a moment.

“Taylor, my uh hairstylist, is coming by soon to take the wig off.” You said in a breathy voice.

“She’ll knock.” He says pulling you back into him, his tongue immediately darting into your mouth.

Your tongues are dancing together, neither one of you trying to control the other. Pedro uses his grip on your ass to roll your hips forward and you can feel that he’s hard underneath his criminally thin shorts. You could feel his full length graze across your pussy, causing you to break the kiss and jolt your head back in a surprised moan. He keeps rolling your hips onto him and reaches forward to attach his lips to your neck, leaving sloppy wet kisses.

A knock on the door makes both of you freeze. You jump out of Pedro’s lap and rush back to the makeup chair. You fix the wig slightly and look over at Pedro as he adjusts himself before going back into the same lounging position he held when you had first noticed him. The door opens slightly and Taylor announces herself before entering. “Sorry it took so long. There was a change in how they want your hair for your sex scene coming up.” You face flushes and she begins to take the wig off. Ignoring Pedro’s presence, the two of you hold a small conversation until she finishes up and excuses herself.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“I need to get this costume off. Can you turn around or something while I change real quick?” You say as you grab the black and white plaid pajama pants and black hoodie you showed up in. He turns around and you get dressed quickly, letting him know when he could look again. You walk across the trailer and bend over to search your tote bag for your micellar water and cotton pads to remove your makeup.

“You look so good in these pants baby.” Pedro grabs both sides of your hips and presses himself against your ass. You stand up and he’s leaning to whisper in your ear, “You wanna come over to my place?” You can’t help but laugh.

“Are you always this fuckboyish when you’re horny?” You say, finally being able to be the one who teased him and not the other way around.

“Only for you baby.” He winks and lets out a laugh.

The car ride to his place was quiet. When you agreed to come over, he insisted that he could drive you to his place and would drive you home. You didn’t fight back much, not even thinking about your car that still sat in the studio parking lot. You had your arm propped up on the center console with your hand supporting your chin, staring at Pedro. His hand was placed on your thigh, his thumb moving up and down slightly tickling you.

You couldn’t help but admire him. Pedro was truly one of the most handsome men you had ever come across. He was so…beefy. His legs looks so good in those shorts and the way his shirt stretched around the top of his arm was torture. You were so fucking horny it was crazy. You wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of Pedro and feel his length graze against you again. You weren’t sure exactly what Pedro had planned when he asked you to come over but you were hoping it involved more kissing. You really liked kissing him.

The car comes to a stop and you notice that he’s pulling into a garage. When you asked him where he lived before, he had mentioned that he had a small place but this house was far from small. It wasn’t a huge mansion but it was a respectable size, way bigger than your own apartment. When you open your car door, Pedro is already walking over to your side and offering his hand, which you take happily. He closes the garage door, locks the car, and leads you into a small mudroom. He removes his shoes, you follow, and the two of you walk down a small hallway into a living room.

The room was pretty normal. There was a brown ‘L’ shaped couch along the back wall accompanied by a matching brown recliner to the right of the room. On the opposite wall of the couch, there was a giant flat screen attached to the wall with a dark wooden entertainment stand underneath that was littered with random items. He had a few pictures scattered across the walls and a small display case of awards he had won.

He sits on the couch and he pulls you down to straddle his lap again. This time it was much more innocent than the first. He has his arms lazily wrapped around you and you have your arms around his neck, resting your head on the right one.

“Your house is so nice P. It’s so you.” You say into his cheek.

He lets out a light chuckle and you feel the vibration from his chest on yours. “Thank you sweetheart.” You hum in response.

“Are you ready for our intimacy coaching?” He asks genuinely.

“Uh, yea I think so. I’m a little nervous though.” You take a moment to think about just how much sex Pedro’s character is having in this movie. He has to have intimacy training and intimacy scenes with eleven other women. You know it’s just his job, but you can’t help the tinge of jealousy that you feel in your chest. “Have you started any of your other ones yet?” You're hoping he couldn’t hear the slight irritation in your voice.

“Yea. I finished all the training and started filming with some of the girls already.” He says nonchalantly.

“Oh…that’s cool.” You know for sure he could hear the staggering in your voice this time. You’re trying really hard to keep a professional, but what both of you have done behind closed doors is far from professional. He turns his head to look down at you.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asks with concern and you realize from the tension in your lips that you have a very noticeable pout on your face.

“It’s nothing.. ‘s stupid.” You lower your head to hide your face.

“‘s not stupid if it’s got you all pouty like that sweet girl.” He’s rubbing the back of your head so gently, it could put you right to sleep.

“It’s really stupid P…” You raise your head to look at him. “.. just the thought of you being that close and intimate with other women makes me feel a little jealous . Like I know it’s your job and all but I’m starting to really like you and I don’t-”

“You like me?” He’s smiling from ear to ear and you could feel the heat rising to your face, not realizing you had said it outloud.

“I mean yea P. You’re a total catch, what’s not to like…” You trail off, trying your best not to shy away from this moment, from him.

“I like you too Y/n.” His smile is still big. You can feel your tummy erupt.

“I need you to really promise me that you like me, okay? I really don’t want to get hurt by you.” You’re holding your pinky up, just like the day you had met him.

“I promise baby.” He locks his pinky with yours and gives your hand a tender kiss.

You lay your head back down and you both accept the silence around you, living in the moment of the confessions made. Last time you checked the clock, it was ten at night. It was late and Pedro’s lap was far too comfy for you to care about going home tonight. Your head was feeling heavy and you were slipping into a delirious state due to your lack of sleep after a long day of working.

“You know, when my agent first told me that you were the lead when I auditioned, I had no idea who you were.” Your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

“Thanks baby, that really knocks a few notches off my ego.” He laughs and that slight rumble from his chest is intoxicating. You could see the rise of his left cheek from where your head still laid on your arm that was still draped over his shoulders. You liked making him smile. He had such a nice smile.

“Hm, maybe that’s why the universe brought me to you, to humble you.” Another soft chuckle leaves his mouth. You also loved making him laugh- it was a sound you were glad to have the pleasure of hearing.

“Anyways, that’s not the point. After I met you at the audition, I may or may not have looked you up.” You don’t know why you’re telling him this.

“Did you find anything interesting?” He turns his head to look down at you, his eyebrow slightly raised, a cocky smirk present. His right hand starts to caress your back slowly.

“Eh not really… I did watch your vanity fair lie detector test though.” You purposely leave out how many times you rewatched the first 20 seconds of the video, just to hear his laugh.

“Oh yea? What did you think?” He’s still looking at you but there's a different look on his face this time, one you haven’t seen before.

“You look really good in pink.” Your lips turn up to give him a small smile as you think about your next words. “So, uh, daddy’s a state of mind huh?” His hand stops rubbing your back and he turns his head abruptly, looking in the other direction. You burst into laughter at his reaction. “I’m just teasing, come here.” You tug on his right shoulder trying to get him to look at you again but he doesn’t budge. Setting your hands on his shoulders for support, you move yourself to sit straight up, still straddling his lap. Pedro turns his head to look at you and your hands grab his face- you can feel a slight warmth from the blush that was there just moments before.

“I forgot all about that, it’s so embarrassing…” He leans his head down slightly causing his cheeks to squish in your hands.

“‘s not embarrassing, it was really fucking funny, but not embarrassing.” He doesn’t budge. “You can be my daddy.” You say in a teasing matter. His head jolts up causing you to drop your hands back down to his shoulder. His eyes were wide and you could’ve sworn you felt movement near the inner corner of your thigh that just so happens to be right next to his-

“Do you want me to drive you home baby, it’s..” He trails off to grab his phone to check the time. “Shit.. it’s almost 3am.” He sits his phone back down

“Why’d you change the subject? You don’t wanna be my daddy?” You really wanted to get a reaction out of him. You’re staring deep into his eyes and you feel that slight press against your thigh again.

“You can’t just say stuff like that sweet girl…” His hands trail down your back, past your ass, and he wiggles them just under your thighs. Before you even realize what’s happening, Pedro is standing up, arms hooked under your legs. You throw your arms around his neck.

“Pedro put me down please.” You were starting to panic. You’d never had someone even attempt to pick you up and the thought of how heavy you might be in his arms right now is stressing you the fuck out. He starts walking but you can’t see where, nothing but the fading living room in your sight. “P, please. I’m too heavy, please just put me down.” He ignores your pleas. Pedro stops walking for a moment and you hear what you assume is a door clicking open before he continues to walk again.

“Here sweet girl.” He’s setting you down on the edge of a king sized bed. “I’m not really up to date on any of the new dating rules or anything but um if you wanted, you could stay here tonight.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck and he seems nervous. Your heart burst into flames.

Dating

“We’re dating?” You’re looking at him with a big smile.

“Uh yea, I mean uh, only if you want to. I’d love to take you out sometime, on a proper date and everything.” He’s looking at the floor.

You hop off the bed and wrap your arms around him in a big hug, to which he returns, leaving light kisses on your head.

“I’d love to stay tonight.”

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Thank you for reading <3

next chapter

series tag list: @nuetralcolorsenthusiast @kungfucapslock

*If you wish to be added to the tag list, leave a comment on this post letting me know! <3

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aurelim · 3 months

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Hey do you know any other mermaid/siren whatever of the water merfolk sort IF's? because there aren't a lot

I also loved as the ocean lures, hope to see more of it in the future

thank you so much! I hope to write more of it in the future 😂

As for mermaid/siren/anything water-like creatures, I’ve got a few. Most of them are just intro posts and ones with demos that are pretty short, so I’ll split it up into two categories along with their tumblr blogs. There are some finished ones as well but you’re going to have to pay for the entire game so I don’t know if you’re going to want to pay in order to read the whole thing. I won’t put it but I can add some if you’d like!

I don’t really follow VNs so you’re just going to get text-based games. Sorry about that 😅

There was another demo for a game called Kalopsia but it seems to have been deleted. And there’s another game where you’re found and then saved by a captain. Both were on itch.io but I can’t find either one.

Demos

Abysm’s Veil [thread] by Jacic (inspiration for ATOL, about the rusalki)

The Sea Maiden [thread] by Jacic (they have some other games but they’re short if you really want to check them out!)

Beyond the Waves by @allthatwrites (inspiration for ATOL, related to The Little Mermaid)

Voiceless: A Siren’s Song [thread] by Fare (MC is not a mermaid but they can help one!)

Disenchanted by @disenchantedif (you can choose to be a siren)

Drown With Me by @barbwritesstuff

Siren Call by @darkpetal16 (it’s based on Undertale and while MC is not a siren Sans definitely is)

Intro Posts

…And I Am Undone by @fakeyellow (short story based on Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid)

When Silence Speaks by @whensilencespeaks (seems to be on hiatus but the idea is really interesting!)

In Deeper Tides by @indeepertidesif (Disenchanted spin-off)

Through the Waves by @throughthewaves-if (this just came out recently and honestly I wouldn’t have known about it if I didn’t look at Zee’s reblog of it!)

I know there’s more, but I just don’t remember them or have yet to see them. If there is, please let me know!

There are some other IFs that are water related like @riptide-if (which is surfer related) but they’re not about mermaids or sirens.

Also, here’s interact-if’s list of mermaid IFs or water-related stuff if you’d like to take a gander. You can also just look up forums and Reddit for any mermaid recs. I’ve seen a few posts for them and people have given some. But I think I’ll cap it off here.

I’m so sorry to all the people I’ve tagged, but it makes it easier for people to just go to your profile and look at the amazing things that are cooking right now. Also because I’ve been making this list for about an hour and a half nonstop and I’d like to give my hands a rest 😅

(although I will tag @elegantunknownphantom as Zee probably has some IFs too that I didn’t list)

#if recs #mermaid ifs #why was this way longer than I expected-#sorry about the word vomit

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scoonsalicious · 5 months

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Unwanted: Chapter 21, Unacceptable - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Non-explicit sexual content (some over-the clothes stuff)

Word Count: 1.5k

Previously On...: Bucky saw you leave with Steve last night. He saw Steve leave your room this morning. And now he sees you wearing Steve's shirt. Of course, there's only one conclusion he came to.

A/N: A flashback!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

As soon as you and Steve got into the elevator to head down to your room, you were all over each other. Hands and lips exploring every inch of bare skin you could find. You barely managed to make it to your bed before you were unbuttoning his shirt, tossing it to the floor as your hands ran over his muscles.

“God, Pocket,” Steve moaned as he sucked into the skin of your neck. “Want you so bad. Wanted you for so long.”

You didn’t answer him, just moaned as his hand began snaking its way up your thigh to cup your covered heat. You stayed like that for a bit, kissing one another as Steve’s hand rubbed against your sensitive clothed flesh and you palmed him through his pants.

“I’ve been dreaming about this for so long, doll.”

The word, coming from Steve’s lips, froze you, your entire body tensing up as though you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. Sensing your loss of enthusiasm, Steve pulled away. “Calling you ‘doll’ was a mistake, wasn’t it?” he asked, running a hand through his sandy hair.

Coming back to yourself, you put your face in your hands. “I’m so sorry, Steve, I can’t do this. You’re drunk, I’m high as fuck… it would be a huge mistake we’d both regret in the morning.”

Steve sighed, repositioning himself to sit up against your headboard. “Part of me says ‘fuck, let’s make a mistake,’ but the part of me that I know I’m going to listen to knows that you’re right. Besides,” he added, “as much as I lo– care about you, I don’t want to hurt Bucky.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, hitting your head against the headboard with a crack, “don’t say his name. I don’t want to think about him.”

Steve readjusted his positioning so he sat facing you. “What the hell happened between you two, Pocket? One minute, you’re both the happiest I’ve ever seen you, and the next you’re screaming at each other from across the conference table.”

You turned to face him, skeptical. “You act like he hasn’t told you everything already,” you said, not buying his ‘I know nothing’ act.

Steve shrugged. “He hasn’t. When the two of you started dating, he and I, we, uh, we made a promise that we weren’t going to talk about it, about the two of you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, cool, so you just acted like I didn’t fucking exist?”

Steve looked abashed. “No! Not at all; I’m sorry– I should have worded it better. What I meant was, we didn’t talk about your relationship. Bucky knew how I felt. He loved you too much to step aside–not that I ever would have asked him to, anyway! But he didn’t want to rub it in my face, so he kept it private. He didn’t want to cause me pain.”

You snorted “Wish he would have afforded me the same courtesy,” you grumbled.

“What happened, Pocket?” Steve asked again.

You thought about it for a moment, torn between wanting to share the truth with someone who cared enough to ask, but also wanting, in a weird, sick way, to protect Bucky from having his best friend think any less of him. But you didn’t owe him anything anymore.

So, you told Steve everything.

You told him about the weird way Bucky had fixated on Jade’s profile when Tony had first presented it, how he had made so many sweet promises to be the best goddamned boyfriend, yet had broken them again and again.

You told him about Jade’s increasing demands on his time, and how he couldn’t seem to say no to her, his claims that he was only interested in getting to know her as a friend because of their shared Hydra history.

You told Steve about the sparring match you witnessed, the intense, almost sexual energy between them, and the way other agents had picked up on it. About the way he left you, alone and forgotten at Central Park. How he stopped in the middle of having sex with you to answer her phone call. How you begged him to understand how it was making you feel, but he promised you there was nothing there, that you were being irrational.

You told him about that horrible night when he’d brought Jade’s kinks into your bedroom, and the words he’d spoken because she told him that’s what she liked to hear. And you told him about what you found in his texts, about what happened between them on the Russia mission, how he had come home after and made love to you, had lied to you, betrayed you. You told him everything.

When you were finally done, Steve stared at you in silence for a moment. Eventually, he spoke: “I… I had no fucking idea, Pocket. I am so, so sorry.”

You shrugged. “It’s my own damned fault,” you said. “I should have never even slept with him in the first place. I let him break my heart over and over again, because I loved him so fucking much, and I was so scared of losing him. I did this to myself.”

Steve gently (for him, at least) knocked your shoulder with his own. “Hey,” he admonished, “stop that. You’re not the one who lied, who cheated. God, I can’t believe he would do that to you. He had the most perfect, amazing girl, and he just– Sorry.” Steve’s cheeks turned a shade of red. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think he loves her, or has any real feelings for her, not the way he does for you, anyway.”

You tilted your head. “It actually doesn’t, Steve. I could almost understand it, if he loved her. You can’t help who you fall in love with. But, if he did all this, without having any real feelings for her? It just means that he didn’t actually give a shit about me, doesn’t it? He was willing to give up everything we had, willing to break my fucking heart, for someone he didn’t really care about.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple, Pocket,” Steve said with a sigh. “I’m not making excuses for him, but Bucky’s been through literal hell. More than we’ll probably ever know, because there are things he just won’t share, and there are things his psyche remembers, but his waking mind never will. I know that, with Jade, Bucky thought he finally found someone who could truly understand all the trauma he’d been through, all the agony. It’s one thing for him to tell you or I, but we can never really get it. I think he came into this looking for a friend, and she was looking for something entirely different.”

You thought back to the suspicions Sam had voiced after the disastrous mission that had left Rhodey so gravely wounded. “Are you saying you think she has some kind of ulterior motive here, Steve?”

Steve looked at you, puzzled. “No, of course not. I just meant– I think she saw him, and she wanted him. I did end up watching the security footage from her tour, you know.” He smirked at you. “I heard what she said about him. I think that she saw an opening, a way to get close to him, and she took it. She used it to do whatever she could to drive a wedge between the two of you, and push him closer to her.”

“He’s not a puppet anymore, Steve” you spat. “He has agency. He’s responsible for his own actions.”

“I know,” Steve said placatingly. “I’m not saying he isn’t a complete dumbass. He made some terrible decisions. I’m just saying I think he had some bad influences working on him that may have pushed him in a certain direction he never would have taken without them.”

“It doesn’t excuse anything,” you told him, crossing your arms over your chest. “It just means I can’t trust him. That he doesn’t deserve me.”

“I’m not arguing with you, Pocket,” Steve said. “I’m just… I’m just trying to understand where he was coming from, why he would do something like that, when I know for a fact he loves you. Wants to spend the rest of his life with you.”

You scoffed in an attempt to hold back the tears that you were afraid were on the way. “Well, he sure has a fucked up way of showing it,” you said with a sniffle.

“Hey, come here,” Steve wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest. “It’s okay. Let it out. This is a safe space, you don’t have to put on a brave face for me.”

And you didn’t. You let yourself cry all the tears you’d been trying to bury inside of you since you read those horrible text messages. You cried for what you had, and what could have been. And Steve Rogers, beautiful, amazing friend that he was, held you through it all, despite the fact that he was in love with you, and you were shedding tears for another man. He held you late into the night until you both drifted off into a fitful sleep, though for two entirely, very different, reasons.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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kingofbodyrolls · 6 months

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

🐴Chapter summary: Jimin thinks back on all this bad decisions, and how much he has truly hurt you. He loves you, and he wants you back, but unable to articulate his feelings properly, he finds himself writing a letter to you. 🐴Chapter title: Love Letter

🐴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: low self-esteem, low confidence, hurt, sadness, overthinking, destructive thoughts, Jimin’s POV, angst, mention of sex.

🐴Status: completed 🥳

🐴Word count: 13.4k

🐴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 💿 “Love Someone” by Lukas Graham. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?]

🐴Author’s note: this is entirely from Jimin’s POV. Both OC and Jimin have been through a lot, and they have both hurt each other in different ways (but mostly it’s been Jimin hurting her 😭). In this chapter, we will get better insight into Jimin’s thoughts and his feelings all the way from the beginning! I really hope you like it— please let me know. I know Jimin has been behaving horribly, and I’m not excusing his behavior with the chapter, I’m simply saying that he is a flawed human like the rest of us, and no, we might not all agree or even understand his behavior, but.. 🥹 And if you don’t like these kind of chapters/stories were the story is essentially being retold from another character’s point of view, it’s fine, you are welcome to skip it, but if you want to know why Jimin has been acting like a douche, this one’s for you. Also, there are a bit of new stuff in here too, but it’s mostly just Jimin thinking about his bad behavior, lol, so it’s quite sad too 😭

🐴Author’s note— extra: I’m almost finished with writing the series and I got this cute idea to do a Q&A with the characters (questions for me is also okay). So, you can already send in your asks (could also be a comment/reblog, though I think asks are easier for me to keep track of). I’ll turn on anon asks, so if you prefer that, there’s that option. But please, be nice, okay? (not that I don’t expect that of you, I’ve just gotten nasty asks before). You can ask anything, to the characters, like why the behaved/thought/said something or what they didn’t say or do 🤭 You can also ask me about the story, the process or anything like that. As I said, the asks for the characters will be included in the Epilogue (I’ll also reply to the asks, I won’t reply right away, but keep them until the Epilogue will be released!)

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?

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“We have enough to guide usWe have enough to lastWe’re not aloneWe never wereYou and I aren’t lostOh hold me very tightlyHold me fast and strongI am your loveWon’t stray from youYou and I belong” ‘My Heart is Like a River’ by Rebecca Lavelle

Fuck.

This was the last thing he expected.

He never envisioned this moment, the one where you’d walk away, leaving him shattered and angry. He didn’t want this. Not in the slightest. Yet here he is, consumed by a turbulent mix of sorrow and self-directed fury, haunted by a year’s worth of regrettable decisions. He’s unable to find sleep, which is why he sinks into the couch at night, his knuckles white with tension as he grips a pen, its tip poised over the stark emptiness of the paper laid out before him.

He grasps the reasons behind your decision to end things, but the ache it leaves behind is unbearable. It’s a raw, searing pain that gnaws at him relentlessly. Understanding that he’s the architect of his own misery only compounds the agony. How does he begin to convey the depth of his remorse, the magnitude of his love for you? Every mistake he’s made weighs heavily on his conscience, a burden he’s not sure he can ever fully unburden. The prospect of reaching out to you now feels daunting, uncertain. He can still vividly recall the anguish etched across your face as you uttered those words, and the thought of adding to your pain is unbearable. For too long, he’s been a source of hurt, and the realization cuts him to the core.

He despises himself for causing you so much pain.

Lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts, he grapples with the enormity of his love for you and the depth of his remorse. Words, he knows, can only scratch the surface of what he truly feels. How does one encapsulate a torrent of emotions in mere letters? Yet, he resolves to try, to lay bare his heart in this letter, hoping that somewhere amidst the ink-stained pages, you’ll find a glimmer of understanding, a shard of forgiveness.

As he traverses the hallway, the resonating clinks of heels guide his steps, drawing him towards the kitchen like a siren’s call. Entering, he beholds a vision: a woman, clad in a summer dress that dances with every step, her attire an incongruous yet captivating sight against the rustic backdrop. A wry smile tugs at his lips as he observes her, her presence a curious enigma, tinged with a hint of déjà vu. Could it be? Has he crossed paths with her before, or is she merely a figment of his imagination, conjured from distant memories?

“Can I help you?” He ventures, his tone a blend of curiosity and a subtle undercurrent of intrigue. His gaze lingers on you, tracing the contours of your form, an unspoken question hanging in the air between you. Yet, met with silence, he repeats his inquiry, his voice carrying a note of gentle persistence.

“I’m so sorry,” you stammer, the nervous energy palpable in your voice as you fidget with the folds of your dress, “I’m looking for Jessi?”

He chuckles warmly, a playful glint in his eyes as he flashes you a disarming smile. “Who are you?” His curiosity piqued, he leans in slightly, intrigued by your unexpected presence.

“I’m Jessi’s sister,” you declare confidently, your arms folding beneath your chest. As the realization dawns on him, he’s flooded with a mix of surprise and nostalgia. Of course, you’re Jessi’s sister! How could he have missed it? Memories come flooding back, of days spent playing together as children, and he can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the sight of you, his childhood friend. A hint of that old crush resurfaces, sending his heart racing in his chest.

His cheeks warm with a blush, though he fights to keep it concealed. Admitting that his crush on you never waned might be too much, too soon. “You don’t remember me?” He ventures, a flicker of hope in his eyes, yet tinged with apprehension. The thought that you might not recall him is unsettling; after all, he had his own struggles recognizing you, despite the unmistakable familiarity.

As you simply stare at him, he adds, “It’s me, Jimin,” a hint of self-realization accompanying his words. It dawns on him that he never properly introduced himself, contributing to the confusion.

“Park?” You echo, incredulity weaving through your voice as you study him, and a soft chuckle escapes him, granting you a moment to recollect the countless hours spent playing together.

“Yeah! Don’t you remember? We played together when we were kids,” he chuckles warmly, gently nudging your memory in the hope of rekindling the moments of your childhood, now flooding vividly back to him.

You were such a vibrant and spirited girl back then, and you’re just as captivating now. You used to play games with him and your sister, embarking on countless adventures around your ranch and his parents’ property.

As recognition dawns upon you, he observes the tension in your features melting away, replaced by a sense of familiarity. Gesturing for you to take a seat, he retrieves a glass of water, all the while marveling at your presence. You look breathtaking, and the realization that you’re back hits him like a tidal wave. It’s been two decades since he last saw you, yet the memories flood back with a vengeance, reigniting the flames of that childhood crush in his heart.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he offers his condolences, aware of the complexity of losing a parent, especially considering the strained relationship you’ve had with her for years, details he gleaned from your sister. Your expression shifts into one of pain, but you quickly dismiss it with a “It’s whatever,” though he senses it's anything but. Respectful of your boundaries, he refrains from probing further, though he silently wishes you’d open up. If ever you needed someone to talk to, he’d be there in a heartbeat, ready to lend a listening ear and a comforting shoulder to cry on, no matter the hour.

He offers you a warm, reassuring smile, a gesture he knows he can manage in times like these. Just then, he hears the familiar footsteps of your sister approaching, “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Her usual nagging about work trailing behind her like a persistent echo. But sometimes, he thinks, a brief respite is necessary before diving back into the grind. With a chuckle, he bids you farewell, promising to return to his tasks shortly. As he returns to his work, a contented smile graces his lips, though beneath the surface, his heart races with an unexpected flurry of emotions, stirred up by your unexpected presence.

As the barn party kicks off, Jimin finds himself consumed by thoughts of you, his mind drifting back to the encounter in the kitchen. It’s a strange sensation, akin to the giddiness of a schoolboy harboring a secret crush—except in this case, it's not just a youthful infatuation; it’s a reunion with someone from his past. When you and your father left the ranch, he never imagined seeing you again, the sudden departure leaving him with unspoken feelings he couldn't articulate at the time. He regrets not expressing his affection for you back then, but in hindsight, he knows you were both just kids, and such declarations might not have been taken seriously anyway.

Now that you’ve returned and his dormant feelings have resurfaced with a vengeance, Jimin feels an urgent need to express himself. He’s torn between the desire to reconnect with you as friends or dare to hope for something more. As he attempts to rein in his racing thoughts, he realizes just how awkward he can be around women, especially you, whom he holds in such high regard. But despite his nervousness, his affection for you outweighs his fear of awkwardness, propelling him to seek a meaningful connection with you once more.

The barn pulses with the rhythm of the music, matching the frantic beat of Jimin’s thoughts. He caught a glimpse of you earlier, but amidst the sea of people, he’s lost sight of you. The desire to reconnect with you burns fiercely within him, igniting the hope of perhaps mustering the courage to ask you out on a date. As he navigates through the crowd, he can’t shake the anticipation building in his chest, eager to find you and seize the opportunity to reignite your friendship.

As Jimin steps outside into the darkness, his heart races with anticipation, but what he encounters crushes him like a ton of bricks. His eyes land on you, pinned against the wall by his own brother, Jungkook, their heavy breaths echoing in the night. The sight drains the color from his world, leaving him feeling hollow and breathless. It’s a visceral punch to the gut, witnessing you entangled with his brother in such an intimate embrace. He can’t bear to look, the sickness rising in his throat threatens to overwhelm him. With a quick turn, he retreats back inside, his heart heavy with sorrow, his body trembling with a coldness that belies the heat of the barn.

Your eyes, reflecting surprise and sorrow, haunt his thoughts relentlessly. Jimin’s anger simmers beneath the surface, fueled by the sight of you with his brother. Jungkook’s magnetic charm is a curse Jimin knows all too well. It’s a pattern he’s witnessed countless times— his dates inevitably gravitate towards Jungkook’s allure, leaving Jimin feeling like a mere shadow in comparison. The pain of this familiar betrayal cuts deep, gnawing at his insides. He curses himself for his own hesitance, wishing he had seized the chance to connect with you before Jungkook’s spell took hold. Perhaps then, you wouldn’t be entangled with his brother now.

His chest tightens with a mix of fury and resignation. Rationality tells him you owe him nothing, yet the sting of rejection cuts deep. It’s a bitter pill he’s swallowed before, a recurring cycle of dashed hopes. Jungkook’s effortless allure always casts a shadow over Jimin’s prospects, leaving him feeling like fate’s perpetual underdog. The injustice of it all boils within him, a potent blend of anger and despair.

The weight of disappointment crushes his spirit, suffocating any semblance of enjoyment. What’s the point of staying at the party when the sight of you with his brother taints every corner of the barn? It’s a bitter pill to swallow, realizing he’s become a mere spectator in the game of love, always on the sidelines while Jungkook effortlessly steals the show. With a heavy heart, he contemplates leaving, unwilling to dampen the festivities with his darkening mood.

Jimin’s heart clenches at the mere thought of encountering you again, knowing all too well the anguish that awaits him in your eyes. Since witnessing you with his brother, he’s been ensnared by a whirlwind of hurt and resentment, emotions he’s been struggling to untangle. Your return, alongside your sister, feels like a cruel twist of fate, forcing him to confront the turmoil bubbling within him. Avoiding your gaze has become his coping mechanism, a feeble attempt to shield himself from the raw vulnerability lurking beneath the surface. Deep down, he still harbors affection for you, but the shadow of your entanglement with Jungkook looms large, casting doubt on any potential future between you. He doesn’t think you’ll ever be satisfied with him, now that you’ve been with his brother. The bitter realization gnaws at his soul, threatening to consume him whole. Yet, he knows dwelling on such thoughts serves no purpose, only deepening the wounds already etched into his heart.

“Where’s Kook?” Your sister’s inquiry cuts through the heavy silence, offering Jimin a fleeting respite from the tumult of his emotions. Grateful for the distraction, he exhales a silent sigh of relief, seizing the opportunity to avert his gaze from you, if only for a moment longer.

“In the barn fixing his bike, I’ll get him,” he responds with a forced smile, determined to maintain a facade of composure despite the turmoil within. As he strides past both of you, he catches the subtle shift in your gaze, but he refuses to acknowledge it, steeling himself against the flood of emotions threatening to engulf him. Ignoring you feels like self-preservation, a necessary shield against the ache in his heart.

Jimin locates his brother, and together they make their way back to where you and your sister stand. Jungkook, ever the cocky one, can’t resist a jab, his smirk evident as he quips, “Back for round two?”

Jimin scowls at his brother’s remark, finding him insufferable as usual. Anger bubbles within him, exacerbated by the widened shock in your eyes, as if they might pop out of their sockets at any moment. With an exasperated eye roll, Jimin brushes off Jungkook’s comment.

“No, thank you,” you sputter, and Jimin can’t help but feel a glimmer of relief, sensing that you’re not interested in his brother’s crude advances.

“You’re welcome anytime, babe,” his brother teases, winking at you, and Jimin suppresses a sigh. Jungkook’s flirtatious nature is no secret, but at this moment, Jimin can’t help but feel a twinge of irritation at his brother’s antics.

“Enough of that,” your sister declares, her interruption a welcome relief from the tension swirling in the air. Jimin exhales slowly, grateful for the distraction, as the mere thought of you and Jungkook ignites a fiery surge of jealousy within him. He knows delving into the depths of his unresolved emotions would only unravel him further, and he’s not ready to confront that turmoil just yet.

He catches the subtle glances you steal in his direction, but your eyes dart away the moment they meet his. It’s a confusing dance of fleeting interest, leaving Jimin bewildered and uncertain. After all, you’ve been intimate with his brother, so why would you show any interest in him? The ambiguity of your gaze sends his thoughts spiraling, unsure of what to make of the situation. Deciding it’s best to avoid further speculation, Jimin opts to keep his gaze lowered, wrestling with the tumult of emotions churning within him.

The bar door swings open, and there you are, clad in nothing but pants and a bra. His gaze darts to your anxious eyes, taking in the tremble of your body as you and your entourage make your way over to their table.

“Did you lose a bet or something?” Jungkook’s voice rings out, accompanied by a sharp whistle and a burst of laughter. Jimin rolls his eyes, frustration bubbling up at his brother’s relentless teasing of you.

He watches as you effortlessly roll your eyes at his brother’s teasing remark, your composure unshaken as you confidently take a seat.

“Well. Someone doesn’t share clothes. Apparently.” You quip with a hint of playful spite, directing your gaze at your sister, and he can’t help but chuckle, hastily concealing it behind a hand pressed to his lips.

You’re introduced to Yoongi and Hoseok, and Soo-ah hands you a beer, initiating conversation. Jimin finds his gaze lingering on your exposed skin, noticing the goosebumps forming and wondering if you’re feeling the chill.

“Aren’t you cold?” He notices how you bite your lip, but you merely shrug in response. Jimin considers offering you his shirt, though he’s unsure of how you’d react. Despite being comfortable sitting shirtless himself, he contemplates making the gesture anyway—

“Here. You can have my shirt,” his brother beats him to it, and Jimin grumbles, clenching his hands under the table in frustration. Damn it. He had wanted to offer you his shirt, but now he’s too late because he hesitated and over-thought the situation. Again.

God, sometimes Jimin really despises his brother.

“Well, look who’s playing the gentleman,” Yoongi teases with a playful smack to Jungkook’s chest, and Jimin can’t help but roll his eyes once more. He’s well aware that his brother always has an agenda, always.

“Easier to pick up the ladies like this, anyway,” Jungkook remarks with a smirk, confirming Jimin’s suspicions. Jungkook may not be aiming to win you back, but he’s always on the lookout for the next pretty face. It’s moments like these that remind Jimin just how shallow his brother can be, always thinking with his dick instead of his brain.

As the table empties out, leaving just you and Jimin, a palpable tension lingers in the air, thickening with each passing moment. He can sense your uncertainty, and it mirrors his own nervousness. The weight of the unspoken words between you feels heavy, almost suffocating. Jimin shifts uncomfortably, unsure if he should break the silence or let it linger, unsure if his words will only add to the tension.

“I’m sorry if I did something wrong,” your hesitant voice cuts through the tension like a knife, breaking the suffocating silence that had settled between you. With a nervous expression, you fidget with your beer, your eyes betraying a mixture of apprehension and genuine concern.

His breath catches in his throat, surprised by your unexpected apology. Nodding gently, he gestures for you to elaborate, his mind racing with a blend of curiosity and cautious apprehension. Though uncertain of the reason behind your apology, he’s prepared to listen, his thoughts swirling with tentative guesses.

“I’m sorry I slept with your brother…” Your words cut through the air like a chilling breeze, each syllable heavy with the weight of regret. In a hushed confession, you lay bare the source of your apology, and he feels his chest tighten in response. His facade wavers momentarily, a flinch betraying the torrent of emotions raging within him. Beneath the veneer of composure, a tempest of anger swirls, threatening to engulf him in its fiery grasp.

“Why apologize for that?” His voice carries a hint of curiosity, a mask for the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. With a casual sip of his beer, he studies you intently, his eyes flickering with a mixture of emotions. You’re allowed to fuck whoever you want, he acknowledges inwardly, but the bitterness lingers, souring the taste of his thoughts. It’s not so much the act itself that stings, but the circumstances surrounding it—his brother, the witness to your intimacy. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, and he can’t help but lament the unfortunate twist of fate.

“It just seems like you’re angry with me… or something,” you add tentatively, your words laced with apprehension. He notices the nervous edge in your voice, the subtle tremor betraying your uncertainty, and how you avert your gaze, as if unable to meet his eyes.

“Look,” he starts, leaning in slightly over the table, his voice measured yet tinged with underlying emotion, “I’m not really angry. Maybe I’m more disappointed?” Despite his attempt at rationalizing his feelings, he knows deep down that anger brews within him, though its target remains elusive—whether directed at you or his brother, he’s unsure. After all, they’re all adults here, and dwelling on this resentment won’t change anything. Deep down, he knows he’s harboring a sense of anger, not necessarily at you, but at the recurring pattern where his brother always seems to come out on top. It’s a feeling of disappointment that runs deeper than just this one incident—it’s a narrative that’s unfolded over years, leaving him questioning his own worth. And he recognizes, it isn’t your fault; you’re just caught in the crossfire of a longstanding dynamic.

“You are, of course, allowed to sleep with whoever you want to. It’s just… it’s always him.” His words carry a raw edge, laced with a palpable mix of frustration and resentment. Jungkook’s recurring presence in such situations gnaws at him, a constant reminder of his brother’s tendency to overshadow him. Yet, even amidst his own turmoil, he realizes the futility of roping you into their tangled sibling rivalry. It’s an unhealthy dynamic, one he knows all too well, and he doesn’t want to drag you into its murky depths.

He watches as a wave of realization washes over your features, but he feels compelled to add more. “All women are drawn to him. He’s always fucking around. Not that I’m saying I want to be like that, but sometimes, it would be nice to feel noticed, you know?” Damn it. He said too much. Did he have too many beers? No, he’s barely finished his first bottle, and yet here he is, pouring out truths from the depths of his heart.

Damn it, why did he say that? He curses inwardly, realizing he’s delving into territory he’d rather avoid. He desperately needs to steer the conversation elsewhere, pronto.

“You know… When I saw you that day in the kitchen after all those years,” he starts tentatively, hoping to shift the focus away from his raw emotions.

He rakes his fingers through his hair, a gesture betraying the turmoil within. “I never thought I would see you again when you and your father left,” he confesses, a mixture of longing and regret bubbling beneath the surface, camouflaged by a forced chuckle.

His nerves prickle like a live wire, urging him to speak, even as his mind screams caution. “Did you know,” he blurts, the words tumbling out despite his better judgment, “I had a crush on you when we were kids?” His throat tightens with apprehension, berating himself internally for the sudden confession. Was it just one beer he had? Because why on earth would he reveal this now?

“I had no idea,” you reply, your voice laced with surprise and regret, your features softening with an apologetic expression. “I’m truly sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he chuckles, though the tension in his voice betrays his true feelings. His heart races with nervousness, cursing himself for his lack of restraint in revealing his past crush. But there's a deeper secret he keeps buried: his current feelings for you, perhaps even love. It's a precarious balance between wanting to confess and fearing rejection. He prays his mouth won’t betray him again, divulging more than he’s ready to admit.

Sensing the danger of delving further into emotions, he swiftly changes the topic, opting for safer conversational waters. Offering to fetch another round of beers, he steers the discussion towards lighter subjects. Yet, beneath his composed facade, he finds himself unnerved by you. There’s an undeniable allure to your demeanor— a blend of nervousness and confidence that both intrigues and intimidates him. He’s drawn to your self-assuredness, yet fears the intensity of his own feelings, wary of pushing you away with his overwhelming emotions.

“I’ve been considering heading back home. It just feels like I mess everything up…” You confess, your words tinged with uncertainty, and he feels a surge of emotion. Panic grips him at the mere thought of you leaving. No. No. He can’t bear the idea of you walking away, of missing out on the potential moments you could share together. Despite his internal conflict, a selfish desire whispers in his heart, urging you to stay, if only for a little while longer.

“No, no, you shouldn’t give up. Please, give it some more time,” he urges, his voice laced with genuine concern. Each word carries the weight of his longing, a silent plea for you to stay. Memories of his childhood flood his mind, reminding him of the warmth you brought to his heart. He can’t bear the thought of losing you again, not when he feels a flicker of hope reignite in his heart at your return.

Jimin has been surreptitiously observing you as you sort wool with Yoongi, stealing glances whenever he can muster the courage. Each time your eyes meet his, it sends a flutter through his chest, a silent reminder of the unresolved emotions swirling within him. He grapples with the realization that perhaps he’s been too quick to let his insecurities dictate his reactions, especially when he witnessed you with his brother. Yet, amidst the tangled mess of doubts and hopes, one thing remains clear—he still harbors feelings for you. With each passing moment, he wrestles with the notion of reaching out, of bridging the gap that has formed between you. Could there be a chance to mend what’s broken, to transcend the shadow of past misunderstandings? As he contemplates these questions, he can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there’s a glimmer of mutual interest between you two. But how does one navigate the delicate dance of reigniting a connection fraught with uncertainties? Jimin finds himself at a loss, grappling with the complexities of his own heart as he yearns for a sign, a signal that could pave the way for a new beginning.

Caught off guard by the sudden outburst, Jimin’s thoughts scatter like startled birds as your sister’s sharp reprimand slices through the air. He can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for you, knowing firsthand the intensity of Jessi’s temper. Watching your gaze falter, retreating from the accusatory finger jabbing in your direction, he senses your discomfort like a palpable wave washing over the scene. A surge of concern floods Jimin’s chest as he worries about the impact Jessi’s harsh words might have on you. Could this tirade be the final straw, driving you away for good? The fear gnaws at him, a silent plea echoing in his mind for some semblance of peace to return to the tense atmosphere.

As you take a hesitant step backward, Jimin’s heart clenches with concern, his grip on the clippers loosening as he watches you dart towards the door. Without a second thought, he abandons the tools and bolts after you, propelled by a surge of urgency to catch up and ensure you’re okay.

“Please come back,” Jimin’s plea is tinged with desperation as he watches you retreat towards the house. His heart races with a sense of urgency, knowing he can’t let you leave without offering some comfort. He longs to reassure you that your sister’s harshness doesn't define your worth, that everything will eventually fall into place.

As you pivot, a look of anguish etched across your features, you confess, “I fuck everything up Jimin.” His heart aches at your admission, wondering what else burdens your mind. “I feel utterly useless on this ranch,” you add, your voice heavy with self-doubt. Jimin's resolve strengthens, determined to offer you the solace and encouragement you desperately need.

“It’s to be expected. You’ll get better,” he reassures you, his voice laced with sincerity. Despite his efforts to comfort you, he notices how you’ve withdrawn into yourself, lost in your own thoughts.

“Do you think I belong here?” Your question catches him off guard and he gapes at you, but he already knows the answer to your question, so it’s easy.

“I do,” he says, his voice carrying a depth of emotion that belies the simplicity of the words. It’s a plea, a fervent wish whispered into the air, a silent urging for you to see what he sees – that this place, this ranch, is where you truly belong. Deep down, he knows it’s selfish, but damn it, he can’t bear the thought of you leaving.

“I believe you just need time,” he offers with a gentle smile, though beneath it, he can feel the weight of your uncertainty. It’s a small offering of solace, but he knows words alone can’t ease the turmoil brewing within you.

“I don’t think I fit in, and I feel like an imposter,” you confess, your voice carrying the weight of uncertainty. Each word strikes a chord within him, a pang of sadness laced with determination. He can’t bear the thought of you feeling out of place, not when he envisions you finding your footing here, becoming a part of this place he calls home. He believes in you, in your ability to belong, and he’s willing to give you all the time you need to see it too.

One thing is a childhood crush, but delving into the depths of who you are now, the adult version of you, that’s what he craves. He yearns to unravel the layers, to discover if there’s a deeper connection waiting to be unearthed between you two, something more profound and meaningful than just fleeting feelings from the past.

As the rain cascades down upon both of you, Jimin’s attention isn’t on the weather, but on you, on your emotions. “We should get back” he suggests, aware that the rain shows no signs of relenting. Yet, amidst the downpour, he seizes a moment of boldness, reaching out to intertwine his fingers with yours. “You belong here,” he affirms, his touch conveying a silent plea for you to stay, to weather the storm together, not just the rain outside, but the uncertainties within.

He prays silently that his words and gestures are enough to anchor you here, but deep down, he understands he can’t dictate your choices. The decision to stay must be yours alone, driven by your own desires and dreams. Yet, a fervent longing swells within him, an unspoken wish that you’ll choose to remain, not for his sake, but for your own. Oh, how he yearns for you to stay.

You left. It’s a twist he didn’t see coming, yet somehow, it makes sense. Your sister’s relentless demands and the weight of your own insecurities pushed you away. He empathizes; Jessi’s temper can be overwhelming, and she hasn’t exactly rolled out the welcome mat for you. And your self-doubt about your skills on the ranch? He gets it. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and he certainly wasn’t a master of everything from the get-go either. Improvement comes with time, and he believes in your potential to thrive.

Why does he find himself standing in front of your city home, heart pounding against his ribcage like a caged bird? He knocks, and when the door swings open, you greet him with a mix of surprise and puzzlement, yet your smile, soft and tender, ignites a wildfire of hope in his chest.

“Jimin?” Your voice carries a blend of curiosity and caution, eyes darting around to confirm his identity, a flicker of uncertainty dancing in their depths.

“Hey,” he greets you with a hint of shyness, his voice slightly uneven as if your mere presence has the power to stir up a whirlwind of emotions within him. You have this uncanny ability to make his heart flutter and his nerves dance, rendering him almost breathless in your presence.

“Come in,” you invite, and as he steps across the threshold, his senses are immediately greeted by the cozy compact hallway, each corner whispering tales of your daily life within the confines of your two-bedroom apartment.

“What brings you here, Jimin?” You inquire, your eyes sparkling with curiosity and a hint of anticipation, inviting him to share the purpose of his unexpected visit. His heart races with the weight of unspoken words, debating whether to reveal the depth of his feelings, to confess how much he misses you and yearns for your return. Yet, he hesitates, fearing that such raw honesty might overwhelm you, opting instead to tread lightly into the depths of the conversation.

“I came here because there’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” he starts, his gaze wandering around your apartment. An easel catches his eye, displaying a painting in the corner. He hadn’t realized you painted. Memories of your childhood passion for art resurface, but he hadn’t expected you to continue. Your dedication surprises and impresses him. As he admires the artwork, he can’t help but think how much it reflects your beauty and depth, a reflection of the intricate layers of your soul.

“You mentioned wanting to talk?” You inquire, drawing his attention away from your paintings. There’s a hint of curiosity in your voice, and he notices the way your eyes search his face, as if trying to decipher his thoughts. He feels a sudden rush of nerves, realizing the weight of the conversation he’s about to embark upon.

“Sure, let’s go to a cafe and have that talk,” he proposes, a spark of anticipation igniting in his eyes, his heart quickening with the prospect of finally opening up to you.

You suggest heading to a nearby café, and he readily agrees, the anticipation building as you walk the short distance together. Your demeanor betrays a hint of anxiety, and he can’t blame you—after all, he did show up unannounced, eager to talk. Arriving at the café, you both place your orders, and Jimin can feel the nervous energy coursing through him at the thought of opening up to you. But as he steals glances at your radiant smile, he knows he needs to gather his thoughts and make this moment count.

As you dig into your chocolate cake, you turn to him with a curious glint in your eyes. “So, what’s on your mind?” you inquire, your voice carrying a mix of anticipation and intrigue.

He can’t help but chuckle nervously, a subtle tremor in his voice betraying his unease as his hand moves to shield his smile. “It’s about you actually,” he confesses, his gaze lingering on you, as if searching for the right words to convey the weight of his thoughts.

He watches intently as your eyes widen, your lips parting in shock. “Me?” You echo softly, the word hanging in the air, laced with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

He feels his heart quicken its pace, his palms moistening with nervousness. “We miss you,” he admits, his voice a blend of longing and reluctance. Jimin knows he shouldn’t reveal too much, shouldn’t tell you how much he misses you. Yeah, the other’s miss you too and your sister actually regrets how she had been treating you. The words are close to spill out anyway. He can’t help it. Your puzzled expression prompts him to elaborate, “Everybody back home.”

The words sting him like a slap in the face. “That place isn’t my home anymore,” you declare, and each syllable feels like a dagger to his heart. He knows deep down that your old home could be your sanctuary once more, if only you’d give it another chance.

“It could be,” he responds softly, his words laden with unspoken longing. He wrestles with the urge to confess how much he aches for your presence, but he reins it in, wary of overwhelming you. Yet, glimpsing your paintings in your apartment, he discerns a silent yearning for the ranch.

“Everybody misses you, even your sister,” he adds, hoping to bridge the chasm between your worlds.

You scoff at that notion, momentarily entertaining the idea that your sister orchestrated his visit. He almost finds it amusing. Sure, Jessi might regret her actions, but her pride likely won’t allow her to apologize. He came here of his own volition, driven solely by his feelings for you. And as he gauges your response, he wonders if your sentiments mirror his own. He longs for certainty before taking the next step, eager to discern if your heart echoes his.

You spend the remaining time engaged in conversation about his heartfelt conviction that you belong on the ranch. He earnestly endeavors to sway your decision, silently yearning for your return—not just to the land, but to him. Yet, he hesitates to voice these sentiments, aware of the weight they carry. It pains him to witness your despondency, your yearning for the solace of a home—a comfort he believes he could offer, if only you desired it. Eventually, you concede to mull over the prospect of returning, a small glimmer of hope that lifts his spirits.

He’s reluctant for the day to draw to a close, even after both of you have polished off your cakes. So, he proposes a shopping excursion, and as you amble down the bustling street, he revels in the simple joy of your company. Witnessing you try on various dresses fills him with delight, but it’s the moment you find one that makes you radiate with confidence that truly captivates him. As you stand before the mirror, the dress hugging your curves in all the right places, he’s struck by the desire to gift it to you. Your surprised reaction to his offer, accompanied by a blush that tinges your cheeks, only serves to further enchant him.

As you return to your apartment and settle in to order food, Jimin realizes he’s extending his stay beyond his initial intentions. He’s wary of overstaying his welcome, yet he finds himself relishing every moment spent in your presence. Together, you indulge in a satisfying meal, the aroma of comfort food filling the air. With appetites sated, you delve into a conversation that spans the years since you departed from the ranch. Each shared anecdote and exchanged experience bridges the gap of time, weaving a tapestry of shared memories and newfound connection.

As he opens up to you, Jimin shares the tumultuous story of his family, particularly focusing on his father’s betrayal and subsequent remarriage shortly after his mother's passing. Recounting these painful memories is a struggle for him, as he harbors deep-seated resentment, especially towards his father for his infidelity. To Jimin, loyalty is paramount, and the thought of betraying a loved one is unfathomable. He reflects on the challenging dynamic with Jungkook, his stepbrother thrust into his life against his wishes. Initially resistant to the idea of a new sibling, Jimin grappled with conflicting emotions, navigating the complexities of familial relationships with grit and resilience.

He notices your curious gaze, fixated on the subtle limp in his stride, a constant reminder of a past he’d rather forget. Jimin understands the unspoken question lingering in your eyes, the same one that everyone seems eager to ask about. It’s a topic he loathes discussing—the limp, the accident, and the haunting scar etched into his flesh. Yet, he opens up to you, albeit selectively, glossing over certain details. He shields you from the raw emotions that still cling to the memories, like the overwhelming fear that consumed him in the aftermath, or the excruciating pain that once threatened to steal his mobility forever. Despite the physical healing, the pain persists, a relentless echo of the trauma that reshaped his life.

As if drawn by an invisible force, your hand ventures to his thigh, your touch igniting a cascade of sensations that electrify his senses. Each stroke sends a jolt of pleasure through him, coaxing his heart into a frantic rhythm matched only by the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind. His body responds eagerly to your touch, craving more, yearning for the warmth of your hand in places where desire simmers just beneath the surface. Jimin knows he shouldn’t entertain these forbidden thoughts, but the allure of your touch is intoxicating, tempting him into a realm of pleasure he’s desperate to explore. With each passing moment, your hand inches closer to his dick, and he's powerless to resist the magnetic pull drawing him toward the world of lust.

“Is this okay?” Your gentle inquiry sends a surge of electricity through the air, and Jimin feels a wave of apprehension wash over him. He’s caught between the desire to surrender to the intoxicating allure of your touch and the fear of crossing a line he might not be able to uncross. Yet, despite the tumult of emotions raging within him, he manages to croak out a strained “yes,” his voice betraying the depth of his longing and the intensity of his arousal.

God damn it, he curses inwardly as a surge of desire courses through him, causing his body to react involuntarily. He shifts uncomfortably, prompting your hand to retreat apologetically as you murmur, “I’m sorry.”

He reassures you with a strained “it’s okay,” but inside, he’s reeling from the lingering sensation of your touch. Your hands had worked wonders, but it’s not just the massage that’s setting him alight; it’s the mere contact with you, igniting a dangerous blaze of desire within him.

He’s acutely aware of the charged atmosphere between you, a palpable tension that threatens to unravel with every passing moment. Seeking respite, you suggest watching a movie, and he agrees, grateful for the distraction. As the film unfolds, he finds himself more captivated by the way your eyelids flutter and eventually succumb to sleep, your head gently resting against his chest. With tender care, he brushes away the stray strands of hair that caress your face, his heart swelling with affection at the sight of you in such peaceful repose. He realizes, in that moment, the depth of his feelings for you—love, pure and unadulterated. Yet, the weight of uncertainty presses upon him like a heavy burden. Should he confess his love, risking the fragile bond of friendship that now exists between you both? Or should he continue to cherish these stolen moments, content in the knowledge that you’re by his side, even if only as friends?

“I love you,” he murmurs softly, the words slipping from his lips like a secret confession, a whispered promise to the sleeping form nestled against him. In the hushed stillness of the room, he finds solace in the act of vocalizing his feelings, the weight of his emotions easing with each syllable uttered. Though he knows you’re unaware of his declaration in your slumber, he takes comfort in the notion that the words hang in the air, a silent testament to the depth of his affection for you. Yet, as the echoes of his confession fade into the night, he realizes that his journey towards vocalizing his love has only just begun—a journey he’s determined to embark upon, armed with nothing but his unwavering devotion and the courage to speak his heart when you’re awake, ready to hear his words.

He hadn’t intended on staying the night, but your gentle slumber on his lap had rooted him in place. He couldn’t bear to disrupt your peaceful rest, and truth be told, he relished the sensation of your weight against him. He couldn’t recall when your head had found its way to his thighs, but the warmth of your presence was a comfort he couldn’t deny. However, the unwelcome arousal pressing against his jeans was a stark reminder of his body’s betraying response to your innocent proximity. Your soft murmurs and endearing sighs had stirred something primal within him, leaving him unable to conceal the undeniable evidence of his desire.

“Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, scrambling to sit upright, cheeks tinged with a delicate blush. He can't help but chuckle at your flustered reaction, finding your genuine concern endearing.

“It’s okay. I just woke up,” he assures, though it’s not entirely true. He’s been awake for a few moments, captivated by the peaceful sight of you sleeping. Is it a bit creepy? Perhaps. But at that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

You end up apologizing profusely for inadvertently resting on his injured leg, but he reassures you, insisting it didn’t hurt much. Suddenly, you offer to whip up some pancakes, and the idea sounds heavenly to him. He realizes how hungry he is, so the prospect of food is more than welcome.

He realizes he should head back home soon. Yesterday, he left without a word to his brother, and he certainly didn’t mention staying the night elsewhere. Jungkook might be in a panic by now, given the flurry of missed calls on his phone. Oops.

The pancakes you’ve whipped up are simply divine, and for a fleeting moment, he entertains the idea of staying here with you indefinitely. But reality pulls him back to the ranch, his responsibilities tugging at his heartstrings. Deep down, he yearns for you to join him there, to make the place feel complete once more. Yet, he knows he can’t impose such a request on you. Your decision to return must stem from your own desires. As the time draws near for his departure, he lingers a bit longer, subtly conveying how much he’ll miss you if you choose not to come back.

“I hope to see you again, maybe back home?” His gaze lingers on you, a silent plea echoing in his eyes. In that suspended moment, he senses a subtle transformation within you, a shift in the air that ignites a blush on your cheeks. And in that shared vulnerability, he feels his own heart quicken its pace, a silent testament to the magnetic pull you exert on him with each passing moment.

As you remain silent, he gathers his courage, emboldened by the delicate flush on your cheeks. Closing the gap between you, he leans in, his breath mingling with yours as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. A playful grin tugs at his lips, betraying the nervous flutter in his chest; he can feel the warmth rising to his cheeks, but he couldn’t resist the urge to express his longing in that fleeting touch.

“See you at home,” he whispers, the words carrying a weight of anticipation as he descends the stairs. His heart thunders in his chest, a symphony of excitement and nerves that threaten to overwhelm him. Despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins, a wide grin splits his face, a telltale sign of the emotions bubbling within him. In that moment, he feels like a fool — a foolish, lovesick fool.

You’ve returned, and it’s like a missing piece of his world has finally clicked back into place. Since his visit to the city, everything between you seems to hum with a new energy, a subtle shift that he can’t ignore. The air crackles with anticipation, and he can’t help but notice the lingering glances, the charged moments that pass between you. He senses the attraction growing, weaving its way between you like a delicate thread. Perhaps it’s time to take the next step, to ask you out on a proper date. But first, there’s the matter of moving your belongings from the city back to the ranch, a task he embraces eagerly, knowing it’s a chance to be by your side once more.

He chuckles at the sight of neatly packed boxes, already lined up and ready to go. He had braced himself for a lengthy packing session, but you’ve surprised him with your efficiency. With everything neatly organized, the task ahead seems much simpler. Now, all that’s left is to lift and load the boxes onto the truck and trailer, and you’ll be ready to roll.

Despite the weight of the boxes and the growing ache in his leg, he soldiers on without complaint. He refuses to let you see the strain he’s under, determined to make this transition as smooth as possible for you. Together, you lift and carry furniture, ensuring that nothing is left behind. Finally, you slide the key into the landlord’s mailbox, marking the end of an era and the beginning of a new chapter.

As you navigate the road back home, he catches your gaze drifting to his leg, a subtle twitch betraying the discomfort he’s trying to conceal. Despite his efforts to mask the pain, he can tell you’ve seen through his facade.

“Does your leg hurt?” Your concern is palpable in the gentle tone of your voice. He hesitates, debating whether to offer a reassuring lie or admit to the discomfort gnawing at him. Ultimately, honesty wins out. “Yeah, a bit,” he confesses, unable to shield you from the truth.

Your hand ventures across the center console, landing on his thigh with a gentle, reassuring pressure that sends a jolt through him. As your fingers begin to work their magic, tracing soothing circles over his tense muscles, he feels his defenses weakening. Like an inferno ignited, desire surges within him, rendering him powerless to resist. A soft moan slips past his lips, betraying the overwhelming effect of your touch, and he knows he’s in trouble, especially while navigating the road ahead.

His mind is a whirlwind of forbidden desires, each touch of your hand stoking the flames of his longing. With every inch your hand inches closer, his body responds eagerly, aching for your touch. Yet, amidst the overwhelming urge, a voice of reason echoes in his mind, reminding him of the danger of indulging in such desires while driving. Despite the throbbing need coursing through him, he fights to suppress his carnal urges, knowing that some pleasures are too risky to pursue in the heat of the moment.

“Please stop,” his voice, a blend of desire and restraint, breaks the tension-filled silence, pleading for respite from the intoxicating allure of your touch. As your hand halts its tantalizing caress on his thigh, a palpable tension hangs in the air, his body yearning for the forbidden pleasure yet tempered by the awareness of the dangers lurking on the road ahead.

“I might lose focus on the road if you keep that up,” he confesses, his tone laced with a blend of restraint and longing, revealing the precarious balance between desire and responsibility. With each passing moment, the tantalizing temptation grows stronger, stirring a primal urge within him. For a fleeting instant, he entertains the reckless notion of pulling over, and just fucking you, like he really wants to do.

Jimin is rendered speechless as you glide through the doors, clad in the dress he picked out for you. The sight of you steals his breath away, igniting a fire within him that he struggles to contain. Your radiant smile lights up the room, and as your eyes meet his, it’s as if the world fades away, leaving only the two of you enveloped in an electric moment.

You take in the surroundings of the house, every detail seemingly more enchanting with Jimin by your side. As he gracefully pulls you into a slow dance, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in a timeless embrace. The warmth of his hand in yours and the genuine smile on your face envelop him in a sense of serenity, and for a moment, he’s lost in the beauty of the moment, captivated by the sight of you.

You sway together in the gentle rhythm of the music, but beneath the surface, a tempest of emotions rages within Jimin. With every step, he feels the magnetic pull towards you intensify, igniting a wildfire of desire that threatens to consume him whole. The urge to whisk you away upstairs, to pour out his heart, to share every secret and desire, is almost overpowering. Yet, in the midst of this intoxicating whirlwind, fear gnaws at him. This unbridled attraction, so fierce and undeniable, terrifies him in its intensity, for it’s unlike anything he's ever experienced before, and it’s already reshaping the very fabric of his emotions.

As his brother, Jungkook, sweeps in to ask you for a dance, Jimin’s eyes roll with a mix of amusement and mild annoyance. Reluctantly, he steps aside, letting you be whisked away into the arms of his sibling, though a flicker of jealousy ignites in his chest. As you twirl away with Jungkook, Jimin can’t help but feel a pang of insecurity, wondering if he’s made a mistake by relinquishing your presence, even if only for a dance.

Meanwhile, Jimin gracefully makes his way to the piano, a glint of determination in his eyes. He settles onto the bench, his fingers poised over the keys with a mixture of nerves and excitement. With a soft, thoughtful expression, he adjusts the volume of the music, letting the melody fill the room with a gentle ambiance. As he begins to play, his heart pours into the music, each note resonating with a depth of emotion that only he can truly understand. With a voice rich with sincerity, he sings a love song, his eyes flickering over to where you stand, hoping that you’ll appreciate the gesture.

In the midst of the music, Jimin wrestles with his own conflicting emotions. He knows he should muster the courage to express his feelings directly to you, to tell you that he’s head over heels in love. Yet, fear grips him, the fear of rejection, of vulnerability. Despite the undeniable connection he feels between you, he hesitates, unsure of how you’ll respond.

Instead, he lets the melody speak for him, allowing the heartfelt lyrics to convey the depth of his affection. With each tender note, he silently hopes that you’ll understand the message hidden within the music, the silent plea for your reciprocation.

Your expression betrays a mixture of surprise and curiosity as Jimin finishes his serenade. Without a word, he rises from the piano bench, his hand outstretched towards you, a silent invitation in his gaze. “Please, come with me,” he implores softly, his voice laced with an urgency that belies the calm exterior he tries to maintain. With a gentle yet firm grasp, he leads you towards the door, a sense of purpose driving his movements.

As he leads you outside, Jimin can feel the weight of anticipation hanging heavy in the air. This could be the moment, he thinks, the moment he finally lays his heart bare before you. Or perhaps he should start with something simpler, like asking you out on a date. But with every step that brings you closer to the secluded spot he has in mind, his mind races with a whirlwind of emotions, leaving him uncertain of where to begin.

Now, with the night sky stretching out above you and the soft glow of moonlight casting shadows across your face, he finds himself unable to resist the pull of desire. With a sudden surge of courage, he pins you against the wall, his gaze locked on yours with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt.

His mind races like a speeding train, thoughts colliding and scattering in all directions, leaving him grasping for a coherent sentence. “Brothers talk,” he blurts out, cursing himself inwardly the instant the words leave his lips. Jungkook’s words about you after that night echo in his mind, a bitter reminder of a conversation he never wanted to have— he didn’t like hearing his brother talk about you like that. He wishes desperately to erase those words from his memory, to banish them to the darkest corners of his mind, but they linger like a stubborn stain, impossible to scrub away.

“I know you slept with Jungkook,” he murmurs into your ear, feeling the slight tremor that runs through your body. The tension crackles between you, a silent dialogue of unspoken words and hidden desires. He prays silently that you don’t harbor any strange fascination with brothers, because if you do, you’re in for disappointment. That’s not his thing.

“And I don’t mind. I like you,” he confesses, his words tinged with a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. Despite the discomfort of knowing about your past with his brother, he’s willing to look beyond it because his feelings for you outweigh any resentment. The image of you being reduced to a mere conquest by Jungkook leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but he’s determined to move past it for the sake of what he feels for you.

“I like you too, Jimin,” you confess, and the weight of those words sends a surge of excitement through him. Finally, the confirmation he’s been yearning for, the green light to express what’s been building inside him for weeks. As he leans in to kiss you, anticipation electrifying the air, the door beside you swings open, and out steps his brother, wearing that infuriating grin. Damn it, Jungkook always manages to ruin the moment, the ultimate cock blocker.

You’ve been putting in long hours at the ranch alongside Yoongi, and he’s observed how effortlessly you’ve adapted to the work. He doesn’t mind the time you spend with Yoongi; after all, cultivating friendships here is important, and he’s glad to see you forming bonds in your new environment.

As he makes his way over to where you’re taming the wild horses, Jimin feels a surge of confidence coursing through him. Today feels like the right moment to finally muster the courage and ask you out on that long-awaited date.

He approaches, anticipation bubbling within him, but Jimin’s heart sinks like a stone at the sight before him. His steps falter as he witnesses your lips meeting Yoongi’s in an unexpected embrace. Shock and hurt intertwine within him, shattering the fragile hope he held of something blossoming between you both. It’s a painful echo of the moment he caught you with his brother, a wound reopened. With a heavy heart, he silently retreats, the weight of disappointment pulling him away.

Caught in the whirlwind of emotions, Jimin did notice the shock etched on your features. But confusion battles with hurt within him, a tumultuous storm raging in his heart. Was it betrayal he saw in your eyes? Or was it simply his own shattered illusions playing tricks on him? The thought gnaws at him—had you been toying with his feelings all along?

The memory of you with his brother burns like a brand, leaving him grappling with a cocktail of emotions, unable to discern truth from illusion.

You fucked his brother, maybe you want to fuck Yoongi too?

Though he hears your hurried footsteps behind him, he refuses to turn back, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. Anger simmers within him, intertwined with a thread of sorrow, a tumult of emotions threatening to consume him. Frustration gnaws at him — frustration at you, frustration at himself for allowing himself to fall under your spell. For he realizes now, with painful clarity, that you hold the power to shatter his heart. And he can’t bear the thought of enduring such agony. It’s a bitter realization, but he knows he must protect himself. It’s better to walk away now, before the pain deepens any further.

“Jimin!” Your voice echoes urgently behind him, but he’s already near the door, his resolve hardening with each step. Maybe he can simply shut you out, ignore whatever explanation you might offer. He doesn’t want to entertain the possibility of hearing you out, even as you grasp his arm, pleading, “Jimin, it’s not what it seems—I need to explain!”

He doesn’t want to hear it. There’s a strange ringing in his ears, drowning out your words. It’s as if his mind is adrift in a sea of chaos, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. Anger simmers beneath the surface, a volatile brew threatening to boil over. With a clenched jaw, he turns to face you. “You kissed Yoongi.” The words cut through the deafening silence like a knife, sharp and accusatory.

“No, I didn’t! He kissed me, and I didn’t want that. It meant nothing, okay?” Your words pierce through the heavy silence, but he’s not sure if he wants to believe them. He’s built a fortress around his heart, shielding it from any more pain. Watching you with his brother was hard enough, and now this? It’s not just the kiss itself that bothers him; it’s the unsettling feeling that you might be interested in anyone but him.

Since that kiss with Yoongi, he’s been nursing a hurt that gnaws at him relentlessly. Though he’s avoided speaking to you, he’s watched from a distance. Your once vibrant spirit now wears a cloak of sadness, but in Yoongi’s presence, you light up. It’s a comfort to see you finding solace, yet a pang of envy grips him. Watching you two together twists something deep inside him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Amidst the ache in his heart, he’s found himself seeking solace in familiar connections, even replying to texts from his former physiotherapist, Deiji.

Despite the gnawing guilt, he finds himself unable to bridge the growing chasm between you. The pain of witnessing your closeness with Yoongi ignites a jealousy that eclipses all rational thought. It’s not just about liking or loving you anymore; it’s about the exhausting cycle of feeling perpetually overlooked. He’s tired of being picked last.

Perhaps that’s why he extended the invitation to Deiji, fully aware that you and Yoongi would be there. In his mind, it’s a feeble attempt to feign indifference, a facade of moving on. He’s well aware of the pettiness of his actions, yet he’s powerless against the torrent of bitterness coursing through his veins.

He catches the glimmer of sadness in your eyes as they meet his across the bar, and a pang of unease twists in his stomach, a blend of hurt and confusion. He’s at a loss to comprehend why your gaze holds such sorrow when you’re evidently entwined with Yoongi. The sight of him enveloping you, a shield against the world, ignites a storm of resentment in Jimin’s gut.

Despite being officially with Deiji, a decision he’s uncertain about and made more out of a sense of emptiness than genuine interest, Jimin finds himself questioning his own actions. He doesn’t understand why he acquiesced when she asked to make things official; perhaps it was the notion that having someone, anyone, was better than facing the void alone. But the truth is, he doesn’t harbor strong feelings for Deiji. Aware of the wrongness of the situation, Jimin feels a gnawing guilt deep within him, a sense of moral turmoil that he can’t shake off.

And with every stolen glance in your direction, a reminder of his divided attention, he's torn between appeasing Deiji and grappling with the realization of what he truly desires.

Each day, you faithfully show up for work, your presence a constant in the familiar routine of taming the wild horses alongside Yoongi. Yet, with every shared moment you spend with him, Jimin can’t help but feel a surge of spite and jealousy coursing through him. Despite his best efforts to suppress it, the sight of you engrossed in your tasks, your laughter echoing in the stables, stirs up a tempest of conflicting emotions within him. It’s true, you appear happy, your smiles lighting up the barn, but beneath the surface, Jimin senses a lingering sadness, a hidden ache that eludes his understanding.

Even amidst the swirling chaos of his emotions, Jimin finds himself unable to muster the courage to speak to you. The turmoil within him is relentless, leaving him uncertain if he even wants to engage in conversation with you anymore. His feelings are a tangled web of confusion, rendering him utterly lost within himself. It’s as if he’s been thrown into a storm of his own making, unable to find solid ground amidst the tempest of his conflicted heart.

Even his own brother, in a rare moment of clarity, has acknowledged the messiness of the situation and urged him to confront it. Yet, Jimin finds himself grappling with the futility of such a conversation. What words could possibly bridge the chasm between you when you’re with Yoongi and he’s with Deiji? It’s a tangled web of relationships, each strand pulling them further apart with every passing moment.

Recently, Jimin has found himself consumed by jealousy, a venomous emotion that twists his thoughts and clouds his every interaction. He’s engulfed by an unrelenting anger — directed at you, at himself, at the cruel hand fate has dealt. Walking about with a perpetual scowl, he broods in silence, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of longing and resentment. Forced to collaborate with you by Jungkook, he remains mute, the weight of unspoken words suffocating him. Jimin, once eager to engage, now fears the irreparable chasm that has formed between you, the inevitable drift driving a wedge deeper with each passing day.

For reasons unbeknownst to him, your sister insists on throwing a party to mark the cast coming off. This entails a dinner, an event Jimin dreads. The thought of facing you, knowing Yoongi will also be present, fills him with apprehension. It’s been weeks, perhaps even months, since he’s exchanged a word with either of you, and the prospect of reconnecting amidst the festivity feels daunting.

He’s been avoiding you for what feels like forever, yet here he is, standing in your house with his girlfriend, desperately trying to hide the turmoil churning inside him. It’s not a physical demise, he knows he’s being overly dramatic, but the emotional anguish feels suffocating, overwhelming every inch of his being.

He stands there, silently seething as he watches Yoongi envelope you in his arms, whispering about how much he’s missed you. Anger courses through him like a torrent, mixing with a bitter taste of something unpalatable, leaving him with a nauseating sensation, as if he could vomit at any moment.

He averts his gaze, sensing the sudden fury emanating from you, though the reason eludes him. Desperately, he attempts to divert his attention to Deiji, but it’s futile; he can’t shake the feeling of longing for you, despite the turmoil raging within him. Every glance towards you is a reminder of the pain of seeing you with Yoongi, of his own inadequacy to confront or resolve the situation. He feels trapped in a cycle of longing and self-loathing, unable to break free from the grip of his own childishness.

You glide into the charity gala, a vision of elegance and grace that steals his breath away. He shouldn’t be captivated by you, shouldn’t be allowing his gaze to linger when he should be focusing on his date. Yet, Deiji’s waning interest in him is palpable, a silent testament to the growing chasm between them. He knows their relationship is crumbling, and he can’t blame her for growing weary of his constant pining for someone else. The truth is, he was never truly invested in Deiji; she was merely a placeholder, a feeble attempt to fill the void left by your unattainability. Now, as he watches you from across the room, radiant and out of reach, he realizes the magnitude of his mistake.

Despite dancing with his girlfriend, his eyes are drawn irresistibly to you, tracing every step you take as you glide across the dance floor with Hoseok, then Yoongi. Each moment is like a dagger to his heart, yet he can’t tear his gaze away. It’s masochistic, really, subjecting himself to the exquisite agony of watching you in Yoongi’s embrace, but he’s transfixed, unable to look away.

Without warning, your expression morphs into one of raw anger, fury emanating from every pore as you stride purposefully towards him. Your voice, sharp and cutting, pierces through the music as you demand, “Why the hell are you staring at me like that?”

Startled and taken aback, his heart skips a beat as your sudden outburst catches him off guard. Beneath the surprise, a tinge of sadness tugs at his heartstrings. He realizes he shouldn’t be so transfixed on you, yet despite his best efforts, he finds himself unable to tear his gaze away.

“Shouldn’t your eyes be on your girlfriend, huh? Why the fuck do you keep gazing at me? Look at your damn girlfriend!” Your words cut through him like a knife, and the accusation stings. He feels a knot of sadness twist in his stomach, grappling with confusion as to why you've suddenly turned hostile.

“And while you’re at it, why the fuck can’t you talk to me like a normal human being?” Your voice crescendos, cutting through the air like a sharp blade. Jimin feels a pang of shame, wanting to shrink away from your justified anger. You’re hitting too close to home—he knows he should have approached you like a mature adult.

“You’re a damn coward, aren’t you? You shouldn’t be casting your eyes my way when you have a girlfriend right there!” You jab a finger in Deiji’s direction, her displeasure evident, but Jimin can’t muster any concern for her feelings. His heart thuds erratically, a tumult of emotions swirling inside him, each one adding to the chaos. He knows you’re right, and it cuts him deeper than he’d like to admit—yeah, he’s a coward.

“You fucking jerk. If you had the decency to communicate, to use your damn voice instead of making baseless assumptions, we wouldn’t be in this ridiculous situation!” You unleash your frustration at him, each word a sharp jab, and he flinches involuntarily. Deep down, he knows you’re right, but the weight of the misunderstanding presses heavily on his shoulders. He just doesn’t understand the situation. Yoongi steps in beside you, attempting to diffuse the tension, but Jimin feels his heart plummet to the floor nonetheless.

“I fucking hate you! You’re stupid. I hate you. I fucking hate you. I love you. I fucking hate you. I hate you so fucking much!” You unleash a torrent of emotions, your words cutting through the air like knives, and his eyes widen in shock. His heart races erratically, his confusion mirroring yours. Why would you confess your love for him while Yoongi stands right beside you? It’s madness, and he feels like he’s drowning in a sea of uncertainty and conflicting emotions.

“You fucking bastard. Stop looking at me like that,” you spit out, catching him off guard once more. Despite the tension, he can’t help but burst into laughter. It’s wrong, he knows, but there’s something absurdly amusing about the situation. As you glare at him, he can’t shake the thought that you look oddly cute when you’re angry.

“Stop laughing. This isn’t funny!” You stamp on the ground, your frustration palpable. Jimin feels a surge of conflicting emotions, his laughter fading as he clings to the weight of your confession. What does this mean? He longs to ask you why you’re unloading on him, but you refuse to let him get a word in edgewise.

“I don’t want to hear it! You know what? I’m done!” With a sharp spin, you pivot away, leaving Jimin in a whirlwind of confusion. Desperate to understand your sudden eruption, he reaches out, his hand grasping for an explanation amidst the chaos.

“You can stick your dick where the sun doesn’t shine!” With fire in your eyes, you unleash the words directly into his face before storming out, leaving Jimin to face the fallout of your wrath. As the tension thickens in the air, all eyes turn to him, conveying their disapproval like daggers. Even Jimin finds himself grappling with the weight of his actions, acutely aware of the discord he’s sown.

Yoongi strides up to him, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “You know you’re a real dick right?”

Jimin’s jaw drops, the shock of Yoongi’s words reverberating through him like a sudden bolt of lightning. Never before has he witnessed this side of Yoongi, and the revelation leaves him utterly stunned, his mind reeling with disbelief.

“Why don’t you scuttle off to your precious girlfriend?” Jimin’s words slice through the air like venom, his anger bubbling to the surface with an intensity that threatens to consume him entirely.

Yoongi scoffs incredulously, “Girlfriend?” His steps carry him closer to Jimin, his voice dripping with a mix of disbelief and frustration. “You really think she’s my girlfriend, huh? Is that what’s been fueling your jerkish behavior?”

Jimin’s lips part, ready to offer a retort, but before he can utter a word, Yoongi closes the distance between them until their breaths mingle in the charged air. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he declares, his voice low and tinged with frustration, “I’m gay, you fucking idiot.”

Jimin’s eyes widen in disbelief as Yoongi’s words hang heavy in the air. Then, as Yoongi exits, a whirlwind of emotions sweeps through Jimin’s being, leaving him teetering between confusion and a surge of unexpected elation.

But hold on, that means that all this while he thought you were together with Yoongi, you were in fact mad at him?

Fuck.

Deiji ended things with him, and he can’t blame her. He realizes now that he wasn’t truly invested in her or the relationship. In hindsight, it’s clear that it was the right decision for both of them.

He’s made an absolute mess of things, and now he’s left with the daunting task of picking up the shattered pieces and piecing them back together again.

He realizes the first step towards redemption is owning up to his missteps and extending genuine apologies for the havoc his actions have caused.

Your expression betrays confusion when he offers to aid in the search for Mikrokosmos, yet deep down, he yearns for the chance to finally unravel the tangled threads of misunderstanding between you. He carries the weight of knowing he should have initiated this conversation long before, but he’s here now, determined to mend what’s broken and bridge the chasm that’s formed between you.

He’s overwhelmed with gratitude as you lend him your ear, and when you extend an apology for your own actions—a gesture he feels unworthy of—he’s humbled. He recognizes he was the one in the wrong, and while he does offer his apologies, he feels they fall short of expressing the depth of his remorse. He struggles to find the words to convey just how profoundly sorry he is. In your presence, he’s painfully aware of his own shortcomings, yet he’s also grateful for the stark contrast of your unwavering kindness, a stark reminder of the person he aspires to be.

As you tenderly trace the lines of his scars with reverence, he feels something inside him fracture, but it’s not pain—it’s the barriers he’s built around his heart, crumbling in the face of your genuine affection. Never before has anyone shown such care and admiration for him in this intimate way. In that moment, his heart swells with a love so profound it threatens to overflow. In your presence, he finds a sense of completeness he’s never known before. Truly, you are the embodiment of sweetness and kindness, and he’s endlessly grateful to have you in his life.

He’s acutely aware that you deserve far better than him. In your unwavering sweetness and kindness, you shine as a beacon of light in his tumultuous world. Despite the countless times he’s put you through turmoil, you continue to stand by his side, unwavering in your commitment. A part of him struggles to comprehend why someone as remarkable as you would choose to be with someone as flawed as him. He can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t deserve a woman of your caliber.

As the blissful days turn into months and the connection between you deepens, it feels as though you’ve been together for a lifetime. It’s this profound sense of certainty that drives him to purchase a ring for you, a symbol of his unwavering devotion. From the depths of his childhood dreams, he’s always known, without a shadow of doubt, that you were the one meant for him.

Fucking hell.

Just when everything seems to be falling into place, Deiji unexpectedly resurfaces, bearing news that shatters the delicate balance of his newfound happiness—she’s pregnant. The weight of her revelation hits him like a ton of bricks, threatening to unravel the life he’s worked so hard to build. While she insists the child is his, he’s consumed by doubt, unable to find any concrete evidence to support her claim. Yet, in the midst of his turmoil, his gaze is drawn to you, and the anguish etched on your face speaks volumes. Despite the chaos swirling around him, he can’t ignore the palpable pain this situation is causing you.

He longs for the prospect of fatherhood, but the thought of having children with Deiji is a nightmare he can’t bear to entertain. If he were to embark on the journey of parenthood, he envisions it with you by his side. Yet, he’s keenly aware of your own hesitations or perhaps lack of desire for children, and he deeply respects your stance on the matter.

Damn, this just became a whole lot more complicated. But amidst the chaos, his resolve remains unwavering—he’s determined to be present for his child, and for you, no matter what. With every update Deiji shares, whether it’s pictures or ultrasounds of the baby, he makes a conscious effort to include you, recognizing the importance of keeping you informed and involved every step of the way.

However, he can’t help but notice the growing distance between you, and it’s a pain that cuts him to the core. The dilemma gnaws at him relentlessly—he’s torn between wanting to cherish both you and his impending child, yet he’s at a loss as to how to navigate the chasm that’s formed between you.

“I really think it’s best to break up,” you repeat, and he’s gripped by a suffocating sense of disbelief, as if trapped in a nightmare he desperately wishes to escape. How can you say this? The love he feels for you surges through him like a relentless tide, and the mere thought of breaking up is unbearable. Doesn’t your heart ache at the idea of leaving? Doesn’t love still reside within you?

“But I can’t bear the thought of losing you,” he pleads with a raw desperation, his heart laid bare before you. Every fiber of his being is consumed by love for you. Can’t you see? Can’t you feel the weight of his devotion?

“I know, I don’t want to lose you either. But as much as it pains me, I can’t go on like this. I need to break up,” your voice cracks, and his heart shatters into a million fragments. Both of you are unwilling to part ways, yet he's come to recognize the toll his situation with his child has taken on you, perhaps far more than he initially comprehended. Ultimately, he realizes he can't compel you to remain by his side, even as the agony of separation tears him apart.

“If that’s truly what you want,” he says, his voice strained with emotion as he struggles to form the words, “then I... I understand.” Each syllable feels like a weight upon his chest, threatening to suffocate him as he resigns himself to the heartbreaking reality of your decision.

“It is,” you confirm with a heavy finality, and in that moment, his heart shatters into a million irreparable fragments, scattered across the floor like the remnants of a shattered dream as you walk away.

Ever since you broke up, a sickness gnaws at him, but he desperately clings to the impending arrival of his child as a beacon of hope. Yet, intertwined with the anticipation is a bitter realization—he’s lost you, and it leaves a repugnant taste lingering in his mouth. He never wanted to be forced into a choice, yet it seems he inadvertently prioritized his impending fatherhood over you, a decision that fills him with self-loathing. Deep down, all he truly yearns for is to be by your side once more.

Every time his gaze falls upon you, your face is etched with profound sadness, and he’s torn between offering you the solace of space or the comfort of his presence. Though you still exchange words sporadically, the connection you once shared feels like a distant memory, a mere echo of what once was.

The ache of missing you consumes him, a relentless longing that claws at his heart. He yearns for nothing more than to be reunited with you, to reclaim the bond you once shared. But the weight of the situation crushes him under its unbearable pressure. Should he forsake his child for the chance to have you back? The mere thought is agonizing, a cruel dilemma tearing him apart at the seams. He’s trapped in a labyrinth of pain, unable to discern a way out of the turmoil engulfing him.

Fuck.

Reflecting on the myriad mistakes he’s made sends a searing pain coursing through his heart, each misstep a haunting reminder of the turmoil he’s inflicted upon you. The weight of his transgressions feels crushing, almost unbearable, yet amidst the wreckage of his past, one truth remains steadfast—you loved him, despite it all. Perhaps you still do, but the uncertainty gnaws at him like a relentless beast. Yet, in the depths of his remorse, his love for you burns bright and unwavering. He’s determined to find a way to convey his unwavering desire to win back your love, to fight for the chance to make things right and rebuild what was once lost.

That’s precisely why tears cascade down onto the paper as he pours his heart out in the letter destined for you.

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 ❣️

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#jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #my heart's home series #reader: female #au: cowboy #au: ranch #au: soulmates #au: childhood friends #au: friends to lovers #au: slice of life #theme: summer #vibe: smutty #vibe: romcom #vibe: angst #vibe: fluffy

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