#breaking up with someone and then threatening to become their step parent and then actually doing it is one of my favorite under written | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingofbodyrolls · 2 months ago

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My Heart’s Home (m) | pjm | chapter 14

*this is a re-upload since I deleted my old account 🫣

After breaking up with Jimin, you realize how much you love him, and that maybe that love should be enough to carry you through your new life— being a parent, for someone else’s child.

→ 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. → AUs: ranch!au, slice of life!au, cowboy!au, soulmate!au → Genres: smut, humor, fluff, slow burn and angst → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact! → Chapter warnings: angst (is this really a surprise?), mention of pregnancy (not oc!!!), a riding accident, a lot of thinking and overthinking, sadness and angst, jealousy, working through feelings. → Status: completed → Word count: 10.5k → Now playing “Time Turn Over” by Rebecca Lavelle. → Author’s note: OC is being very Bella Swan in this chapter, I’m sorry again 😭 BUT!!! The angst goes away in this chapter too, because I just wouldn’t do it (I’m tired of the angst, lol). Because of said angst, it was tough for me to write and I actually ended up asking my husband for advice because I was stuck, not meeting my own word length deadline and because I just felt stuck in general 🥲 But alas, he gave me a good idea, and I went with that! There is very minimal angst going forward from this chapter, like it’s so minor compared to all the rest, so I hope you’ll enjoy mostly unicorns and rainbows after this chapter ☀️ → Read on AO3? [link]

“And oh, I wish the past was different And oh, I wish it wasn’t so But in the end, because I’m here now In the end, I think you know I can’t say it and you can’t feel it but I can not let it go And oh, I wish the past was different And oh, I wish it wasn’t so” ‘I Wish the Past Was Different’ by Rebecca Lavelle

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You’ve thrown yourself into your work with the wild horses, seeking solace in their untamed spirits. Yet, the bittersweet reality of having to work at Jimin’s place constantly tugs at your heartstrings. Each encounter with him reignites the longing to be wrapped in his arms, to find solace in his embrace, and to believe in a future together. But then you catch sight of Deiji, and the floodgates of jealousy and insecurity and self doubt burst open once more, drowning you in feelings of inadequacy and unpreparedness for the daunting prospect of motherhood, especially when it's someone else's child at the center of it all.

Why does life have to twist and turn in such cruel ways? The weight of this pain is crushing, dragging you down with each passing moment, threatening to shatter you into irreparable fragments.

You find yourself yearning for an alternate reality where Jimin never crossed paths with Deiji, where their relationship was just a figment of imagination rather than a painful reality. The ache in your chest resonates with the desire to assign blame, to point fingers at anything but your own heart for walking away. It’s easier to lay fault at the feet of Deiji and Jimin than to confront the agonizing truth of your own decision to part ways.

You scuff, a tempest of anger and sorrow swirling within you, each emotion battling for dominance, leaving your stomach tied in knots. Amidst this tumult, focusing on the wild horses becomes a difficult task, prompting Hoseok to step in and assist Yoongi more frequently while you remain perched atop the fence, a silent observer of the scene below.

The love between the two men is palpable, their synergy evident as they collaborate seamlessly. Yet, as you observe them coaxing a once-wild gray horse into submission, a bittersweet symphony plays in your heart. Their laughter, like tinkling bells, fills the air, but with each shared chuckle, a pang of longing grips your soul. You can’t help but notice the gentle caress of Hoseok's hand on Yoongi’s arm, the way their eyes meet with an unspoken understanding, and their voices, light and airy, carrying the melody of their affection.

Their effortless relationship is both heartwarming and gut-wrenching to witness. You adore them both and revel in their happiness, yet a pang of envy lingers as you yearn for a similar bliss with Jimin. The prospect of parenthood looms over you like a daunting storm cloud, and you're lost in a tempest of uncertainty, unsure of how to navigate the tumultuous waters ahead.

Hoseok’s hands caress the sleek coat of the gray horse, his touch a delicate dance of reassurance and patience. The majestic creature stands serene under his guidance, a testament to their bond of trust and understanding.

Yoongi pivots, his keen eyes catching the shadow of sorrow that’s cloaked you for days, casting a solemn hue over your features.

He strides over, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of your storm. Perching beside you on the fence, he offers a reassuring pat on your shoulder. “It’s going to be alright,�� he assures, his voice a soothing balm to your troubled soul.

You highly doubt it. You replay the choices in your mind like a broken record, each decision leading you to this moment of heartache. You could have chosen to stay with Jimin, to endure the pain silently, but the weight of it all felt unbearable. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, a silent acknowledgment of the turmoil within.

You turn your gaze towards Yoongi, the question burning on your lips, a mixture of curiosity and longing swirling in your chest. Despite knowing you shouldn't pry, your heart yearns for a glimpse into Jimin’s world. “How’s Jimin holding up?” you inquire, your voice tinged with a fragile hope, betraying the emotions you've been grappling with.

Yoongi’s eyes meet yours, a silent plea evident in their depths, urging you to reconsider your question. His expression carries a weight of concern, as if he’s shielding you from the painful truth that might follow.

As the silence lingers, you press further, your voice a whisper weighted with apprehension. “Is he... back with Deiji?” The words hang heavy in the air, fraught with a mix of dread and longing for a truth you're not sure you're ready to confront.

Yoongi’s features contort into a mask of sorrow, his gaze drifting downward to the grains of sand within the pen, as if seeking solace in the mundane. “You shouldn’t hurt yourself with questions like this,” he murmurs, his tone heavy with empathy and resignation. “But no, Jimin is still very single.”

The revelation doesn’t exactly lift the weight from your heart, though it's a relief knowing he’s not rushing back into Deiji’s embrace. Still, a melancholic ache persists, knowing that things have unfolded this way.

Yoongi’s words land like a gentle breeze, stirring a mix of emotions within you. “You know,” he confides, his tone carrying a thread of hope. “Jimin misses you a lot. He talks about you everyday. He wishes that you’ll change your mind and come back home.” As his gaze meets your weary eyes, a glimmer of optimism dances in his own.

Tears have become an unwelcome companion, tracing silent rivers down your cheeks, staining your pillow with the remnants of your sorrow. Night after night, you find solace in the lullaby of tears, until even your sister’s concern casts a shadow upon your weary soul. Your eyes, once bright with laughter, now betray the weight of your heartache, swollen and heavy with the burden of your grief. Yet, in the face of it all, you couldn’t summon the energy to care.

You draw in a shuddering breath, grappling with the tempest of emotions swirling within you. “I miss him too,” you admit, your voice quivering with raw honesty. “But I can’t stand the thought of being in a relationship with him, not with his child on the way with another woman.”

You release a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping under the weight of exhaustion and emotional turmoil. Every task seems monumental, even the simplest ones, and just coaxing yourself out of bed feels like an uphill battle. A tear teeters on the edge of your waterline, a silent testament to the inner turmoil gnawing at your soul. Desperate to divert your thoughts from Jimin's memory, you draw in a deep breath and pivot the conversation. “You and Hoseok seem really happy,” you remark, attempting to steer the dialogue towards a lighter topic.

A gentle chuckle ripples from Yoongi’s lips beside you, a soothing sound amidst the heaviness of your emotions. He senses your need for a reprieve and graciously allows the shift in conversation. “Was that a question or a statement?” he quips, his laughter like a beacon guiding you away from the shadows of sadness, urging your weary spirit back towards the light.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, a brief respite from the weight of your thoughts. “Definitely a statement,” you reply with a hint of self-awareness, the sound of your laughter mingling with the breeze, carrying a fleeting moment of lightness through the heavy air.

“We are happy,” Yoongi affirms, a genuine smile spreading across his face, revealing the warmth in his eyes. Together, you observe Hoseok’s movements with the gray horse below, the sight of him successfully saddling the animal a testament to his skill and patience.

“That’s great. I’m so happy for you, Yoongi,” you express, mustering a smile, though it lacks the usual sparkle that once defined it.

“Thank you. But I can see it’s tough for you,” he starts, his gaze probing yours, seeking something elusive, something you're not quite sure of.

You brush off his concern with a casual flick of your hand. “I put myself in this situation,” you say, the weight of your words heavier than you intended.

You slump further against the fence, sinking into the sanctuary of your own fragile thoughts.

Hoseok remains focused on the horse, his movements fluid and purposeful, while Yoongi stands steadfast beside you, his arm enveloping you in a comforting embrace, a reassuring anchor amidst the tumult of your thoughts.

“Thank you Yoongi,” You express your gratitude to Yoongi with a heartfelt whisper, leaning into his comforting presence. His embrace is a sanctuary, enveloping you in warmth and the refreshing scent of mint, a soothing balm to your troubled soul.

“What for?” With a soft chuckle, Yoongi queries, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.

“For always being there for me,” You utter, your voice laced with profound gratitude. The weight of your words hangs in the air, a testament to the depth of your appreciation for his unwavering friendship.

The relentless sun beats down upon you as you toil alongside Soo-ah, Ara, and Ha-rin, laboring to scrub clean the water trough for the cattle in a distant paddock. Beads of sweat form rivulets on your brow, and you futilely attempt to brush them away with the hem of your shirt, but the relentless heat refuses to relent.

The scorching heat pulls down upon you relentlessly as you vigorously scrub away at the trough, determined to rid it of its slimy residue, accumulated grime, and encrusted grease. Each stroke of the brush is a testament to your commitment, knowing full well the vital importance of this cleaning ritual to ensure the cattle’s access to pristine water during their time in the paddock.

“Don’t you think it’s time to move on?” Ara’s words pierce through the haze of your thoughts, jolting you out of the cocoon of self-pity you’ve wrapped yourself in.

Beside you, Soo-ah and Ha-rin exchange startled gasps, their synchronized reaction prompting you to arch an eyebrow in curiosity, silently urging Ara to continue.

“That’s so inconsiderate of you to say, Ara!” Soo-ah’s reprimand cuts through the air, her words laced with a protective edge, while Ha-rin’s support echoes her sentiment, amplifying the intensity of the moment.

“What? But she seems so miserable, Jimin too, why don’t you just work it out?” Ara’s voice carries genuine concern, wrapped in a gentle tone, yet it strikes a nerve within you. You sense her good intentions, but the thought of rehashing your struggles yet again feels draining. With a heavy exhale, you opt for silence, allowing your frustration to seep out in a weary sigh.

“Don’t you think she would work it out with him, if she wanted to?” Ha-rin’s words cut through the humid air, laced with a hint of frustration as she vigorously scrubs the steel trough. It’s a valid question, one that resonates with the unspoken doubts lingering in your mind. You ponder her inquiry, the rhythmic sound of metal against metal providing a backdrop to your internal turmoil.

It’s a surreal sensation, like eavesdropping on a conversation about your own life from a distance. Their words hang heavy in the air, echoing the unspoken complexities of your situation. You stand there, a silent observer to your own narrative, grappling with the strange disconnect between your presence and their discussion.

Ara’s voice rises, her words infused with a desperate plea for understanding. But like, last time they didn’t talk for months and it was just a stupid misunderstanding,” she insists, her eyes searching for empathy among her companions.

Soo-ah interjects with a firm tone, “Do you even comprehend the sheer effort it takes to raise a child?” she questions, her gaze piercing. “If she’s not prepared for that responsibility, then she’s simply not ready.”

It feels funny, how they are talking about you and Jimin, you might as well say something.

The scrubbing of the trough halts abruptly as you pivot towards Ara, your expression a mix of vulnerability and resolve. “It’s not that we aren’t talking,” you begin, your voice carrying the weight of your emotions. “We still communicate, but it’s the sight of Deiji that stings the most. Knowing they’re expecting a child together... it’s hard not to feel consumed by jealousy,” you confess, the words heavy with raw honesty.

Ara’s eyes soften with understanding, her nod a silent acknowledgment of the tumult of emotions you're navigating. “It sounds like you want a child of your own, with Jimin,” she ventures, her words carrying a gentle empathy that resonates with your innermost desires and fears.

Ha-rin’s reaction is a blend of admonishment and hushing as she playfully nudges Ara’s arm, silently urging her to tread carefully while also chiding her for broaching a sensitive topic.

“I’m not entirely certain about having children,” you start, your words measured and tinged with uncertainty, “but raising someone else’s child is certainly not what I imagined or wanted to do.”

Soo-ah and Ha-rin exchange understanding nods. “Do you think you might change your mind later?” Ha-rin inquires gently, her voice carrying a tone of empathy as she continues with her task.

You pause, mulling over her question for a moment, before responding thoughtfully, “I’m not entirely sure... maybe. It’s just... I can’t quite envision how it would all come together, you know?”

“I just... when I envision Jimin embracing fatherhood, cherishing that little girl of his soon entering the world, it’s her child, not mine,” you sigh in frustration, yet oddly finding a glimmer of relief in the honesty of your words.

“So you’re jealous that it’s not going to be your child?” Ara teases beside you, prompting a scolding glare from Soo-ah.

“You just said you didn’t want kids, but now you say you do... make up your mind,” Ara adds, rolling her eyes in a playful yet challenging manner.

“She doesn’t want Deiji’s kid, can’t you get that?” Soo-ah says, coming to your defense once more, her voice firm with conviction.

“Guys! I’m just not sure I want kids, period. Why can’t I be undecided on this?” Your words hang heavy in the air, a plea for understanding, as you return to the task of scrubbing the trough with a vigor that betrays your inner turmoil.

“Yeah. Let’s not badger her, okay?” Ha-rin’s voice cuts through the tension like a soothing balm, her gentle plea for empathy echoing your own sentiments. You catch her soft gaze, a silent acknowledgment of her understanding, offering a momentary respite from the probing questions.

“But can I say something?” Her demeanor shifts with a mix of hesitance and determination, her gaze seeking reassurance before she speaks. You offer a nod, granting her the space to voice her thoughts, curious about what might follow.

“You still love Jimin and he still loves you— don’t you think you could focus on that, and just like, not focus on the kid?” Her words hang in the air, a delicate plea woven with threads of hope and uncertainty. You feel a pang of longing as she speaks, her sincerity piercing through the heaviness of the situation. Despite the weight of her suggestion, you can't help but consider the possibility buried within her question.

As her words sink in, you find yourself grappling with a newfound perspective. The idea of focusing on your enduring love for Jimin rather than fixating on the looming presence of a child is both liberating and daunting. It’s a notion you’ve never entertained before, a ray of light piercing through the clouds of uncertainty that have engulfed you. Could it be that the solution to your turmoil lies in embracing the love that binds you, rather than allowing fear to drive you apart?

Each stroke of the brush across the canvas feels like a dance, a rhythmic movement driven by the whirlwind of thoughts swirling through your mind. Jimin’s presence looms large in your thoughts, refusing to be ignored or pushed aside. Ha-rin’s words echo in your ears, a gentle reminder to reconsider your perspective. As you ponder the notion of shifting your focus away from Jimin’s impending fatherhood, you can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope flicker within you. Could it be that amidst the chaos of uncertainty, there lies a path illuminated by the enduring flame of love?

You remain ensnared in the labyrinth of uncertainty, grappling with the weight of your emotions and the intricacies of your relationship. The truth is a bitter pill to swallow: Jimin’s impending fatherhood would inevitably redefine the contours of your relationship, demanding a portion of his time and attention that you would never begrudge. Yet, amidst the tangle of doubts and fears, a flicker of understanding begins to dawn. Maybe, in the vast expanse of love, there exists room for compromise, for navigating the labyrinth together, hand in hand.

The question lingers in the depths of your soul, a haunting refrain echoing through the corridors of your mind: are you truly prepared for it all?

Ready to become someone’s mother. Step mother?

Ready to raise a child?

Yet, can you truly provide a nurturing environment for a child if one of the adults harbors resentment towards their presence?

You understand it’s not the child’s fault, but the mere thought of it being Deiji’s offspring churns your stomach. You harbor an intense dislike for her, and a nagging suspicion still lingers, whispering that she’s up to something.

You’ve never laid eyes on any proof of the paternity test, and the unsettling thought lingers: did Jimin even ask to see it? Maybe it’s time to broach that topic with him.

As you reminisce about the warmth and intimacy you once shared with Jimin, a wave of melancholy washes over you, leaving you adrift in a sea of longing. Doubts creep in, questioning the wisdom of your choices. Should you have held onto what you had with him, despite the challenges?

The canvas before you mirrors the tumult within, a chaotic blend of muddy hues—gray, brown, beige, and dark blue—an unexpected abstraction of your inner turmoil. It’s a reflection of your tangled thoughts, much like the surprise abstract painting that has emerged from your brush. Yet, beneath the layers of color, a longing persists. You ache to create something different, something infused with the joy of yesteryears—maybe the serene landscapes that once graced your canvas. Yet, as you realize nearly a year has passed since your return to the ranch, a flood of memories rushes in, dominated by thoughts of Jimin.

Oh, how you wish things were different.

On an unassuming day, bathed in sunlight, you find yourself quietly eating breakfast in the kitchen, lost in your own solemn musings. Suddenly, the tranquility is shattered as Jungkook steps into the room, jolting you out of your reverie.

You’re acutely aware that since parting ways with Jimin, you’ve been teetering on the brink of depression. It was a painful but necessary decision to safeguard your shattered heart. Yet, despite your efforts to protect yourself, you’re haunted by the gnawing realization that no matter what path you choose, your heart remains irreparably broken.

“Hey,” he greets you with a warm smile, but as you return the gesture, your own smile falls short of matching his infectious happiness. Your gaze lingers on him, curiosity piqued as you notice something clutched in his hand. Why is he carrying a letter?

“How are you doing?” he inquires, and you respond with a bitter chuckle. Can’t he see how you’re doing? You’re well aware of your appearance, having been reminded by your sister that you look like a mess. The truth is, you’re consumed by a constant sadness, and you’ve exhausted all your energy trying to conceal it.

“I feel like shit,” you admit, opting for raw honesty because pretending otherwise seems futile. Jungkook knows you well, understands the depth of your pain stemming from the breakup with his brother.

He offers you a reassuring smile, closing the distance between you as he gently places the white envelope on the table. Your eyes drift down to it, and you immediately recognize your name scrawled across it in familiar handwriting—it’s Jimin’s.

“This is from my brother,” he murmurs, his nerves palpable as he scratches the back of his head, causing you to shift your gaze between him and the letter, your mind racing with anticipation. What could possibly be contained within? Will it offer solace or inflict further pain? The uncertainty grips you tightly, leaving you on edge.

“Can’t he speak for himself?” You question, a hint of frustration seeping into your voice as your fingers hover over the letter, finally grasping it to inspect its contents.

“He’s torn about whether to give you space or not,” Jungkook confides, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “And he has no idea that I snatched the letter.”

Your eyes widen as you fix your gaze on him. “Are you sure I should read this then?” You inquire, a hint of apprehension creeping into your voice. “Maybe Jimin doesn’t want me to read it.”

Jungkook offers you a gentle smile. “It’s fine,” he reassures, his tone laced with determination. “If he gets mad, it’s on me. But you need to read it. I’m tired of seeing you both suffer like this.”

With those words, he leaves you to grapple with your thoughts and the letter, its edges slightly crumpled, a testament to the turmoil it contains. Your heart pounds in your chest, your mind weighed down by a heavy burden, and your eyes dry from the countless tears shed. You resolve to open the letter, sliding it out slowly; its handwritten contents are adorned with dried tears, each smudge a poignant reminder of the emotions woven into every word. Even before you begin to read, a lump forms in your throat, and your vision blurs with the tears welling up in your eyes.

Despite your trembling hands and the overwhelming emotions coursing through you, you summon every ounce of courage within you. With a determined resolve, you steady your gaze and immerse yourself in every heart-wrenching word penned by Jimin in his letter.

My love,

You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love you more than words can express, and the ache of missing you is a constant companion. I’m deeply sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. No apology could ever capture the depth of my remorse for hurting you repeatedly. My heart weighs heavy with regret, and I want you to know how truly sorry I am. I wish I could undo the hurt I’ve caused. I understand that you may not be ready for motherhood, and I would never want to pressure you into anything. But I hold onto hope that we can find our way back to each other. I love you endlessly, and the thought of being apart is unbearable. I know I don’t deserve your kindness and forgiveness, but please, consider giving me another chance. You are my everything, and I long for us to be reunited.

With all my love and remorse, Jimin

As your tears mingle with Jimin’s on the page, your heart aches with a poignant mix of love and pain. Despite the hurt he’s caused, your love for him remains unwavering, yet it’s accompanied by the uncertainty of whether you’re prepared for motherhood. However, amidst the turmoil, a flicker of hope ignites within you—maybe, just maybe, you can find the strength to be ready for that journey with him.

You sense the weight of your thoughts pressing down, suffocating you. There’s an urgency to clear your mind, to escape the labyrinth of your own making. And you know precisely what remedy awaits: a ride. Out onto the sprawling expanse of land surrounding your ranch, where the wind whispers secrets and the horizon stretches endlessly. It’s your sanctuary, your refuge from the turmoil within—a chance to lose yourself in the rhythm of hoofbeats and the vastness of the world beyond.

Typically, when you saddle up, the chaos in your mind settles, and you allow yourself to sink into the serenity of the natural world, letting the rhythm of hoofbeats replace the cacophony of thoughts.

That’s why you find yourself in the barn, carefully saddling Mikrokosmos, feeling the familiar weight of the leather in your hands, the comforting scent of hay and wood surrounding you. With each buckle tightened and each strap secured, a sense of anticipation builds within you. Leading Mikrokosmos out of the barn, you’re eager to immerse yourself in the healing embrace of nature, seeking solace in the rhythmic cadence of hoofbeats and the whispering winds.

With a steady breath, you slide your foot into the stirrup, feeling the familiar weight of your body settling into the saddle. As you swing your leg over, a surge of anticipation courses through you, mingling with the raw energy emanating from Mikrokosmos. With a gentle nudge of your heels, you coax her into motion, feeling the power of her muscles ripple beneath you as she eagerly responds to your command, propelling both of you forward into the boundless expanse of the open land.

With each rhythmic beat of Mikrokosmos’ hooves against the earth, you surrender to the wild abandon of the ride, seeking solace in the untamed beauty of the landscape unfurling before you. Away from the suffocating grip of memories and uncertainties, you allow the wind to carry away the weight of your burdens, embracing the freedom of the open horizon as you ride further into the unknown.

As the wind weaves through your hair, its gentle touch whispers a symphony of freedom, entwining with the rhythmic melody of Mikrokosmos’ hooves tearing through the earth. With each stride, she paints the landscape with her fervent dance, sending plumes of dust swirling into the air. In the harmony of nature’s cadence, your spirit soars, liberated from the weight of doubt and longing. Each thunderous beat of her hooves resonates with the pounding rhythm of your heart.

Surrendering to the rush of wind and the pounding of hooves, you relinquish the burdens that have tethered your soul, allowing them to scatter like leaves in the breeze, if only for a fleeting moment.

As the sky transforms from serene blue to ominous gray, then to the cloak of night pierced by flashes of lightning, you sense the electricity in the air mirrored by Mikrokosmos’ subtle twitch, a silent acknowledgment of nature’s impending fury.

As the thunderclouds gather with ominous intent, you’re acutely aware of the danger of being caught in the open during a storm. Lost in the vast expanse, you realize with a sinking feeling that you’ve ventured too far to return before the tempest strikes. Yet, the urgency to seek shelter pushes you onward, driven by the instinct to find safety amidst the approaching chaos.

Amidst the dense foliage, you urgently guide Mikrokosmos, a steadfast companion in the tumultuous terrain. Suddenly, a deafening rumble ruptures the air, and the heavens ignite with a blinding flash. Your loyal steed startles, veering sharply as a nearby tree becomes a target for the furious lightning. With lightning’s crackle still echoing, Mikrokosmos rears in panic, jolting you from the saddle. You plummet to the earth, pain searing through your body upon impact, a harsh reminder of nature's unforgiving power. Fuck it hurts.

Mikrokosmos, wide-eyed and trembling, lingers by your side, almost like she wants to make sure you’re okay. You extend a trembling hand in reassurance, craving the solace of her presence, but as another deafening thunderclap reverberates through the sky, she recoils in terror. With a swift and panicked motion, she breaks away, vanishing into the wilderness, leaving you alone amidst the storm’s fury.

“Mikrokosmos, come back!” Your voice echoes through the wilderness, a desperate plea swallowed by the roaring tempest. With each strained syllable, you feel the weight of your fear and frustration, your heart racing in sync with her retreating hoofbeats. As you struggle to rise, the sting of pain ignites along your spine, a harsh reminder of your vulnerability amidst nature's fury. Damn it - you should have prepared her for moments like these, should have been more vigilant in her training with sudden loud noises. Now, your failure looms large, a bitter taste of remorse in the storm's relentless assault.

As the rain pours down in relentless sheets and the sky is intermittently illuminated by flashes of lightning, she finds herself lost in worry. Hours have slipped by since her sister embarked on her ride, and with each passing minute, concern gnaws at her like a persistent ache. In the midst of such tumultuous weather, her sister should have returned by now.

Where could she be? What if something has gone wrong out there in the storm’s fury?

Anxious tendrils grip her as she leans in closer to Jungkook, her voice trembling with concern. “Kook, I’m really worried about my sister. She should have been back by now,” she confides, her words laced with a sense of urgency. Jungkook’s eyes widen in alarm, his grip tightening on the beer bottle as he absorbs her distress.

As she gazes out the window, her heart lurches at the sight of a panicked Mikrokosmos darting around the yard. “Mikrokosmos is running wild out there, but still no sign of my sister. This can’t be good,” she murmurs, urgency coloring her voice as she hastily slips into her boots and jacket. Sensing the gravity of the situation, Jungkook is right by her side, his expression mirroring her concern as they prepare to investigate.

Jessi manages to soothe Mikrokosmos, her fingers gently curling around the reins. “Easy, girl,” she murmurs, her voice a soft reassurance in the midst of the storm.

She strokes Mikrokosmos’ mane, her touch a comforting anchor in the chaos of the storm. “Easy, girl,” she whispers, her voice a soothing melody amidst the thunderous symphony. “Steady, now,” she repeats, her words a gentle plea for calmness.

She whirls around to face Jungkook, urgency etched across her features. “This isn’t good. Where’s my sister?” Her voice quivers with worry, each word punctuated by the pounding rain outside, echoing the frantic beat of her heart.

Jungkook pivots, his eyes widening at the sight of Soo-ah hurtling from her cottage. “What’s Mikrokosmos doing here alone?” His voice is laced with concern, mirroring the panic in Soo-ah’s expression.

Jessi relinquishes the reins to Soo-ah, her voice trembling with worry. “I think something has happened to my sister, otherwise Mikrokosmos wouldn’t be here alone. Can you please take her into the stables, calm her down, and we’ll search for my sister?”

Soo-ah seizes the reins with determination and offers Jessi a firm nod, leading Mikrokosmos over to the stables. Jessi’s expression is etched with concern as she turns to Jungkook, her brow furrowed in deep distress.

“Let’s go look for her, she shouldn’t be out in this weather,” With urgency etched in his voice, he clasps her hand firmly, a silent promise of support. Together, they hustle to his truck, determination fueling their actions as they race back to Bell Ranch, intent on rallying more help to find you.

They dash through the rain-drenched yard, urgency in each step as they burst into the house where Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi lounge in front of the TV, oblivious to the mounting concern etched on Jungkook and Jessi’s faces.

Urgency floods Jungkook’s voice as he interrupts their tranquility. “Guys, Jess’ sister is missing. We need your help to find her,” he implores, his words slicing through the calm of the room like a thunderbolt.

Jimin’s muscles tense, his expression darkening with concern as his heart quickens its pace. Yoongi springs from the couch with such urgency that he should feel lightheaded. In a synchronized rush, the trio leaps into action, snatching up their boots and jackets.

The weather outside is relentless, the midday darkness accentuated by the unyielding rain and gray skies, enveloping everything in a shroud of cold, damp chill.

Jimin’s voice cuts through the tension, his hand already reaching for the keys to his truck. “Should we split into groups of two or three?” he suggests, urgency lacing his words like a silent plea for swift action.

Jessi’s voice holds authority, her words cutting through the air like a command. “I think two are fine,” she concedes, her tone firm and resolute. “But you’re not driving.” Her finger jabs towards Jimin, swiftly snatching the keys from his grasp and passing them to Yoongi with an unyielding resolve.

Jimin’s expression shifts from disbelief to begrudging acceptance as he grapples with Jessi’s unexpected assertion. Despite his initial astonishment, a flicker of understanding ignites within him, and he obediently trails after his brother and Jessi, braving the torrential rain outside.

Yoongi and Hoseok climb into Jimin’s trusty blue truck, equipped with a walkie-talkie in hand, their fingers poised to establish a connection with Jungkook, Jimin, and Jessi in the other vehicle. As they settle in, the anticipation in the air is palpable, their shared determination driving them forward into the unknown.

Yoongi’s voice crackles over the walkie-talkie, edged with concern, as he asks, “Do we have any idea which direction she might have gone?” His words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of uncertainty, echoing the urgency of their search.

Jessi’s voice crackles with determination over the line as she directs the plan, “We’re clueless about her direction. Let’s split up – you take the eastern side, we’ll cover the western.” Meanwhile, Jungkook twists the key in the ignition, setting the window wipers to a frantic rhythm. Jimin, gripped by worry, perches on the edge of his seat in the back, craning forward over the center console to scan the rain-soaked landscape ahead.

They embark on their respective routes, traversing the treacherous terrain of the rugged hills. The landscape is unyielding, but the sturdy trucks with four-wheel drive prove to be invaluable companions. Jungkook guides their vehicle with practiced precision, a stark contrast to the frantic urgency of their previous search when Jessi was missing. This time, he maneuvers cautiously, each movement deliberate, mindful of the perilous conditions and determined to avoid any mishaps.

Jimin’s voice cuts through the tension in the truck's cabin, his impatience palpable. “Can’t you drive faster?” he urges his brother from the back seat, his anxiety mounting with each passing moment.

Jungkook’s tone carries a hint of frustration as he scuffs, “No, this terrain isn’t really made for fast driving. And relax. We’ll find her,” his words a gentle reassurance amidst the mounting worry.

Jimin huffs impatiently in the back seat, realizing there’s nothing much to do but wait until they find you. Each passing moment heightens his concern, hoping against hope that you’re safe amidst the storm and uncertainty.

Jessi turns to Jimin, her voice cutting through the tense atmosphere in the truck. “That ring you bought a while back, is it just collecting dust, or do you plan on giving it to her soon?” Her directness adds another layer of urgency to the situation, hinting at the unresolved emotions lingering between him and you.

Jungkook chuckles beside her, a brief moment of lightness amidst the tension, yet his gaze remains fixed on the rugged path ahead, emphasizing the gravity of the situation they’re in.

Jimin stumbles over his words, his voice strained with uncertainty. “I just don’t think now’s the right time,” he admits, his words tinged with the weight of recent events. “This whole thing with Deiji and then your sister breaking up with me, I don’t think it would be appropriate.” His voice trails off, the unfinished sentence hanging heavy with unspoken emotions.

She scoffs, her tone laced with incredulity. “Appropriate?” Her disbelief echoes through the cabin, challenging Jimin’s hesitation with a raw intensity.

She turns her whole body in her seat to face Jimin, her eyes ablaze with urgency. “I’m sorry, but this whole thing with Deiji is hella suspicious. And you love my sister, right? She loves you too. She’s almost sick, because she broke up with you, did you know that?” Her words hang heavy in the air, charged with a blend of concern and accusation, demanding a response from Jimin.

Jimin’s eyes widen at her words, a mix of surprise and guilt flashing across his face, but he remains silent, his thoughts swirling like a tempestuous sea, grappling with the weight of her accusations.

“She doesn’t eat properly anymore. She’s lost weight, she’s not sleeping— shall I keep going?” She crosses her arms, her voice edged with a mixture of concern and frustration. This whole thing just makes her mad. She hates seeing her favorite people hurt like this, consumed by a storm of emotions that threatens to engulf them both.

“Oh, did you know she cries herself to sleep every night?” she adds, her voice trembling with a mix of hurt and vulnerability, as if she’s revealing a secret that should have remained buried.

Jimin’s breath catches at her revelation, his eyes widening in shock. “I didn’t know,” he admits, his voice tinged with guilt and regret.

“Listen, I don’t know why she can’t talk to you,” Jessi continues, her tone a blend of frustration and concern. “But having Deiji around makes it incredibly tough for her— and I’m not suggesting you abandon her or your future child. However, finding a balance that allows space for my sister without causing her this kind of pain might be worth considering.”

“But she’s made it clear she’s not ready for kids,” Jimin murmurs, his voice barely audible over the increasingly rough terrain.

“It’s not just any kid, Jimin, it’s hers, for heaven’s sake! Can’t you see the weight of that?” she practically scolds him, her voice firm and resounding with frustration.

Jimin is rendered speechless—his mind swirling with conflicting emotions, leaving him utterly at a loss for words.

“You really hurt her when you started dating Deiji, you know. When you shut her out, assuming she was with Yoongi,” she adds, her voice laced with a raw intensity, fighting for you, voicing the unspoken turmoil you’re grappling with. “She loves you deeply, but I’m certain Deiji triggers memories she’d rather bury.” She pivots back, her tone searing with frustration. “And why the fuck would you do that? Why couldn’t you just talk to her?”

Jimin’s gaze locks onto hers, his eyes widening with a mixture of remorse and vulnerability, as if on the brink of tears. “I know I behaved poorly. I—I don’t know, I was just consumed by jealousy. I know I was petty.”

Jessi nods, her expression softening with empathy. “See, you were jealous and didn’t speak to her. Now she’s jealous and doesn’t speak to you. Do you see a pattern here?” Her words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of truth, urging Jimin to confront the echoes of his own actions.

Jimin nods, his heart heavy with a mix of gratitude and remorse, appreciating both the insight and the gentle reprimand from Jessi.

“Now. If you don’t get your shit together and talk to her, I’m going to ask your little brother to beat your ass up,” she teases, a playful grin lighting up her face. Her hand finds its way to his thigh, a reassuring squeeze emphasizing her point. “But seriously, she’s going to be alright, and you’re going to talk to her.”

Jungkook’s laughter fills the truck cabin, and Jimin nervously bites his lip, but he nods in acknowledgment to your sister’s words. He’s well aware that he needs to have that conversation with you, even though attempts in the past have been met with avoidance on your part. It’s clear that seeing Deiji has been a trigger for you, and the realization hits him hard. He’s caused you so much pain, put you through hell, and it’s a weight he can’t carry anymore. This isn’t how it should be, and he knows he needs to find a way to make things right.

As the rain continues to pour relentlessly, the passage of time becomes a blur, lost in the rhythm of the storm pounding against the truck's windshield.

“Have you had any luck?” Jessi’s voice crackles through the walkie talkie, a lifeline in the storm, as she eagerly seeks any sign of hope or progress.

“Not yet.” Yoongi's voice cuts through the static, tinged with a hint of frustration, indicating the ongoing struggle and the uncertainty of the situation.

Suddenly, Jimin’s voice crackles with urgency, breaking the tension in the truck. “I think I see something—over there, by that bush!” His finger jabs towards a dark figure, barely discernible amidst the downpour, a beacon of hope in the relentless storm.

Jungkook steers the truck towards the figure, the engine growling with determination. As they draw nearer, their headlights cutting through the rain, the silhouette resolves into a familiar form—there you are, huddled against the elements, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, each tremble echoing their worry.

With a surge of relief, Jessi flips on the walkie talkie, her voice slicing through the storm like a beacon of hope. “We’ve found her!” Her words, charged with emotion, resonate through the static, breaking through the tension like a ray of sunlight through dark clouds.

Yoongi’s voice carries a wave of relief, cutting through the tension like a soothing melody. “Thank god,” he exhales, his words echoing the collective sentiment of the group, a chorus of gratitude amid the storm’s fury.

Despite the lingering heat, your body trembles, a stark contrast to the relentless downpour that now subsides, replaced by a calm silence broken only by the soft patter of raindrops.

In the distance, headlights cut through the gloom, bouncing over the rugged landscape, gradually growing larger and clearer. As the familiar black truck draws near, a wave of relief floods your weary and trembling form, soothing your frayed nerves.

The truck grinds to a halt just a stone’s throw away, and in an instant, three figures spill out onto the rain-soaked earth: Jungkook, your steadfast sister, and Jimin, his urgency palpable in every stride.

Jimin sprints to your side with an urgency that echoes his concern, his strides propelled by an undeniable determination. His embrace envelops you, a reassuring anchor amidst the storm. “How are you holding up?” he implores, his voice a blend of worry and relief. You offer a nonchalant shrug, masking the turmoil within. “Could be worse,” you reply, your words betraying the weight of your ordeal.

Your sister’s gaze scans you intently, her eyes mapping every contour, searching for any sign of harm. “What happened?” she inquires, her voice edged with concern. “Mikrokosmos returned without you.” Her words hang in the air, punctuated by the gravity of the situation, each syllable laden with the weight of unanswered questions and looming danger.

“The thunder spooked her and I fell off,” you explain, feeling Jimin’s firm hand pulling you upright. The words spill from your lips, mingling with the pattering rain as you recount the moment of panic and disarray.

“Any injuries?” He inquires, his eyes scanning you with the same meticulous care as your sister had done moments before. Yet, to your relief, there isn’t a single scratch or bruise to be found on your body.

“I-I just feel sore,” you manage, your voice tinged with discomfort, the chill of the rain making your words stutter slightly. Jimin immediately envelops you in his arms once more, leading you gently towards his brother’s truck. Your sister, too, lends her support, her gaze fixed on you with concern. As you glance down, you catch a glimmer from her left hand, and there, amidst the rain, you spot something sparkling.

“What’s that?” You inquire, your voice a mixture of curiosity and exhaustion as they guide you back towards the truck, their arms offering steadying support.

“What?” your sister inquires, her brows furrowing slightly as she holds the door open for you to climb into the backseat.

“That ring on your finger,” you observe, noting the flush creeping up her cheeks. She attempts to conceal her hand, but it’s too late—you’ve already caught sight of it. With gentle insistence, you grasp her hand and bring it closer for inspection. A delicate gold band adorned with a simple white stone gleams in the dim light, its beauty striking you. Glancing at Jungkook, you’re met with a tender expression, silently affirming the significance of the moment.

“You proposed to her?” You inquire, your voice catching on the brink of tears, emotions swirling within you—a mix of overwhelming joy and heartfelt sentiment.

His laughter dances in the air as he admits, “I did,” his grin radiating warmth, all while your sister playfully attempts to wrest her hand from your firm grasp.

“When did this happen?” Inquisitively, you pivot between them, anticipation lacing your voice. Their eyes momentarily break contact, drawn down to the damp earth beneath them, as if searching for the right words amidst the glistening droplets.

“A week ago,” Her admission comes in a hushed tone, tinged with a hint of regret, the weight of secrecy palpable in the air. It's as though the words have been lodged in her throat for days, finally finding release, yet carrying with them the burden of silence she bore for an entire week.

“And you didn’t tell me?” You exhale a mix of disbelief and hurt, your incredulous gaze bouncing between them like a pinball in motion. Reluctantly, you yield to Jimin and your sister's gentle insistence, allowing them to guide you into the shelter of the backseat, away from the relentless downpour. With a comforting presence, Jimin settles beside you, while your sister and Jungkook join you in the truck, cocooning you in a blend of warmth and unspoken apologies.

“We wanted to tell you,” your sister starts, her voice carrying a blend of sincerity and hesitation, mingling with the hum of the engine as Jungkook maneuvers the truck down the hill, steering back towards home.“We just didn’t want to make you sad, so I didn’t wear the ring, until today…” she continues, her eyes betraying a sadness mirrored in your own conflicted emotions. You wrestle with the complexity of her consideration, torn between gratitude for her sensitivity and the ache of your own hidden sorrow. After all, shouldn’t you be thrilled for them? Yet, beneath the surface, your heart echoes with a quieter, more personal ache, one that whispers of your own unspoken battles with sadness and despair.

“Why would you make me sad? It makes me sad that you’ve been hiding it from me,” you lament, a tinge of frustration coloring your words as you grapple with the chill seeping through your sodden attire, clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Each droplet feels like a weight, echoing the heaviness of the withheld truth, leaving you to mire in a mix of emotions, neither warm nor settled.

Sensing your shivers, Jimin swiftly sheds his jacket, enfolding you in its warmth with a tender gesture, a shield against the biting cold that had crept beneath your skin.

“I only wanted to spare you from pain,” your sister’s voice softens, regret lacing each syllable as she meets your gaze, her words heavy with remorse. “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

You nod, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Despite the sadness clouding your heart, you grasp onto the flicker of happiness for your loved ones. It sucks that she didn’t tell you, but you do understand why she did it.

Your gaze shifts to Jimin, a whirlwind of unspoken words swirling within you, a thousand thoughts clamoring for attention. Each thought jostles for prominence, yet amidst the chaos, you find yourself lost in the labyrinth of your own mind, grappling with the weight of unsaid feelings, uncertain where to begin or how to articulate the storm raging within.

“Thank you for the jacket,” Gratitude tumbles from your lips for the jacket, a feeble attempt to bridge the chasm of silence that has grown between you, though its weight feels heavier with unspoken tension. There’s an unfamiliar air, thick with unresolved emotions, a palpable unease that lingers like an unwelcome guest. You’ve been avoiding him, grappling with the aftermath of your decision to end things, haunted by the specter of his past relationship and the fragility of your own heart, torn between the longing for reconciliation and the fear of further heartbreak.

“You’re welcome. And I’m sorry,” Jimin murmurs, his gaze a tender caress as he studies you intently, as if attempting to decipher the intricate layers of your being. You can’t help but wonder if he notices the shadows beneath your eyes, heavier now than before, or if he sees the telltale signs of your daily tears etched upon your swollen, puffy face. Does he perceive the subtle changes in your physique, the way your clothes hang looser, mirroring the weight of your burdened heart? In the depths of his gaze, you question if he glimpses the essence of your soul, the silent yearning for his touch, for the rekindling of his boundless love that once enveloped you in warmth and security.

“What for?” You inquire, a soft sniffle punctuating your words, yet your gaze remains unwavering, locked onto the depths of his captivating brown eyes. In that moment, a wave of longing washes over you, the realization of your own foolishness crashing against the shores of your consciousness. You’ve yearned for him in his absence, now understanding the foolishness of your pride. Love pulses within you, a beacon amidst the stormy seas of doubt, begging the question: shouldn't love be reason enough? Isn't it the only thing that truly matters in the end?

“For treating you so poorly. For every misstep, every hurtful word, every moment of silence that drove a wedge between us, for dating Deiji, for not realizing how much it all has hurt you,” he confesses, his voice a fragile whisper teetering on the edge of remorse. Tears glisten in his eyes, a testament to the depth of his regret. His trembling hand finds solace in the curve of your cheek, tenderly cupping it as if to anchor himself amidst the tempest of his emotions. You yield to his touch, the warmth and softness of his hand a balm to your wounded soul, melting away the barriers that had stood between you, allowing you to surrender to the familiar comfort of his embrace.

“I’ve been unbelievably foolish, and I’m utterly sorry,” his voice catches in his throat, the weight of his remorse evident as a tear breaks free from his lashes, tracing a silent path down his cheek. “I never meant to hurt you like this,” he confesses, each word heavy with regret. “I love you so much,” he whispers, the depth of his affection echoing in the tremor of his voice, a testament to the sincerity of his devotion.

“I know you broke up with me because you’re not ready to have kids, and I completely understand that,” his hand intertwines with yours, a lifeline in the tumult of emotions that swirl between you. His gaze searches yours, seeking understanding, seeking reassurance, maybe seeking forgiveness. “But I can’t shake the feeling that we belong together— I want you back,” he confesses, his voice a soft plea tinged with hope. “I love you, and I believe in us. I never imagined this path for us, but I truly believe we can navigate it together,” he asserts, his grip on your hand tightening as if to anchor his resolve. “And the child, she’ll have her own home with Deiji,” he adds, a note of reassurance in his voice, as if to alleviate any concerns that lingered in your heart.

“I got your letter,” you murmur, your tone laden with emotion, observing the shock that washes over his face.

“How?” His voice quivers slightly, betraying the turmoil raging within him, and a pang of guilt washes over you as you realize you probably shouldn’t have read the letter, especially since he didn’t give it to you personally.

Your gaze shifts towards Jungkook, and Jimin instinctively follows the direction of your eyes, noting the scuffs, before returning his attention to you. “I meant every word I wrote in it,” he declares, his tone unwavering despite the vulnerability in his eyes.

As you nod, waves of his love wash over you, intertwining with your own affection and flooding your veins with a warmth that knits together the fragments of your once-scattered heart.

Your heart flutters within its cage of ribs, caught in a dance of uncertainty and longing. His words resonate with you, stirring a flicker of hope in the depths of your soul, yet doubt lingers like a shadow at dusk. You’re torn, teetering on the precipice of indecision, but amidst the turmoil, one truth remains steadfast: your love for him burns unwaveringly, an eternal flame that illuminates the darkness of doubt. And in that flicker of certainty, you find solace, trusting that love, in all its complexities, will guide you through the labyrinth of uncertainty.

“Okay.” The word escapes your lips like a fragile whisper, hanging in the air like the delicate balance of a teetering scale. In the ensuing silence that envelops the truck, you observe the shift in Jimin’s expression, his features morphing into a silent query, a question mark etched upon his face, seeking to decipher the weight of your response and the myriad emotions swirling within you.

“What do you mean?” Jimin’s voice breaks the silence, tinged with confusion, his brows furrowing in bewilderment at your curt response. His inquiry hangs in the air, an invitation to unravel the enigma of your brief words, beckoning you to delve deeper into the intricacies of your thoughts and feelings.

“I want us to be together again,” you confess, your gaze locked with his, the shimmer of tears mirroring the depth of his remorse. Yet amidst the regret, his love for you radiates like a beacon, casting aside the shadows of doubt. You can’t deny the intensity of your own affection, a love that courses through your veins, unwavering and undeniable. It’s as if destiny itself has woven your souls together, an unbreakable bond that transcends time and distance, a truth you've known since the moment your eyes first met after all those years apart.

Without hesitation, Jimin closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a fervent embrace. The kiss is hurried, tinged with the salt of his tears, yet you savor every moment, for his touch ignites a fire within you, reigniting the vibrant hues of your world. In the warmth of his embrace, you feel the dull ache of sadness dissipate, replaced by the kaleidoscope of emotions that accompany the return of his affection. It’s as if life’s dull monochrome has been replaced with a symphony of colors, painting your world anew.

Rekindling your relationship with Jimin has been more than just good—it’s been a revival of your soul. With him by your side, you feel whole once more, the missing piece of your heart seamlessly slotting back into place. Despite the challenges that still loom on the horizon, you find solace in the simple truth that you have each other to rely on, to support and uplift in times of need.

As two full moons have passed, the looming prospect of Deiji’s imminent labor hangs heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the complexities that have woven themselves into your life. Despite the passage of time, your disdain for her remains unyielding, fueled by a nagging sense of distrust that refuses to be quelled. You’ve voiced your suspicions to Jimin, laying bare the unsettling behaviors that gnaw at your conscience—her reluctance to reveal the results of the paternity test, the cryptic details surrounding her medical appointments, the sudden refusal to allow Jimin to accompany her, especially after your request to see the test results. With each revelation, Jimin’s eyes begin to open to the unsettling truth lurking beneath Deiji’s facade.

A creeping suspicion takes root within you, whispering the unsettling possibility that Deiji’s claims may be nothing more than elaborate fabrications. The thought lingers like a shadow in your mind, casting doubt upon the foundation of your reality. While a part of you entertains the notion that maybe she never carried Jimin’s child at all, the implications of such deceit weigh heavily upon your conscience. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, the idea that unraveling her web of lies could potentially simplify your life, yet the thought of the devastation it would bring to Jimin is a sobering reminder of the delicate balance between truth and consequence.

In the face of adversity, you and Jimin are actively striving to strengthen your communication skills, recognizing the tendency to retreat into your own worlds when challenges arise. Both of you understand the paramount importance of articulating your thoughts and feelings openly and honestly, realizing that true connection and understanding can only flourish in the fertile soil of effective communication.

And so, you find yourself once more within the comforting confines of his home, the tantalizing aroma of dinner wafting through the air, stirring your appetite and igniting a sense of eager anticipation. As hungry as you were during your previous visit, this time the atmosphere is charged with a newfound warmth and intimacy, infusing the meal with an extra layer of significance. With each bite, you’re not only nourishing your body but also savoring the love and care that your boyfriend has poured into the culinary creation before you.

“Jimin, this looks absolutely mouthwatering,” you exclaim, your fork poised eagerly above the food, ready to indulge in the culinary masterpiece before you.

“Thanks, I hope it tastes as good as it looks,” he replies, a radiant smile gracing his features as he joins you in savoring the meal he's prepared with care.

The first bite is an explosion of flavors on your palate, a symphony of tastes that dance and mingle, leaving you craving more. It’s a culinary masterpiece, each ingredient harmonizing perfectly to create a sensation that delights every sense. This incredible man’s cooking never fails to amaze, leaving you in awe of his talent and grateful for the privilege of tasting his creations.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” he interjects between bites, his expression thoughtful as he pauses to address the topic weighing on his thoughts.

Locked in a gaze brimming with boundless affection, you find yourself lost in the depths of his eyes, a silent exchange of love and understanding passing between you. With a gentle nod, you encourage him to continue, your heart swelling with anticipation for the words he’s about to share.

“I’ve been thinking about the arrival of the baby,” he begins, his eyes alight with curiosity, sparking a smile to bloom across your face in response. “Do you think we should prepare a special room for her? And where do you think she should be sleeping?”

“I believe she should start off in our room, close to us, but later she can get her own room” you propose, a smile gracing your lips as you envision the cozy arrangement.

“Hmm. Good idea. Thank you for being so cool about it and wanting to do it with me,” he expresses, his eyes shimmering with affection as he extends his hand across the table, silently inviting you to join him in this journey.

You cover his hand with yours, gently tracing circles on his skin as you speak softly, “I don’t know if I’d call it being cool, but I’m doing my best to navigate this new territory.” Despite the uncertainty looming ahead, you offer him a reassuring smile, knowing that embarking on this co-parenting journey will undoubtedly present challenges. Yet, with Jimin by your side, you feel a sense of strength and reassurance, a reminder that together, you can weather any storm.

“Well, thank you. It means everything to me,” he murmurs, his voice laden with gratitude as he leans across the table, closing the gap between you to plant a tender kiss on your lips.

You draw back slightly, your hands tenderly cradling his face, locking eyes with him as you whisper, “I love you, Jimin,” the words carrying the weight of your devotion and the promise of forever.

A warm smile graces his lips in response to your declaration, a silent acknowledgment of the deep love you share. Returning to your meal, a comfortable silence descends upon you both, enveloping you like a soft embrace, a tranquil refuge from the chaos of the world outside.

Raising your gaze, you wait patiently for his eyes to meet yours, the urgency of your words evident in your expression. “I truly believe you need to have a conversation with Deiji,” you urge, a sense of unease settling in your stomach. “There’s something off about all of this, something I can’t quite decipher,” you add, your voice laced with concern and the unspoken weight of intuition.

Jimin nods solemnly, his brows furrowing in concern. “You’re right. It’s been bothering me too. She’s been unresponsive to my texts lately,” he admits, his voice tinged with apprehension and a growing sense of unease.

“Maybe it’s time to pay her a visit and have a heart-to-heart conversation,” you propose, a gentle smile gracing your lips.

“That sounds like a good idea,” he responds eagerly, his eyes alight with determination. With a renewed sense of purpose, you both continue to savor the meal, engaging in light-hearted conversation as you contemplate the impending discussion with Deiji.

For an entire week, communication between you and Jimin has been scarce, lost amidst the whirlwind of chores and responsibilities that accompany life on your respective ranches. From dawn till dusk, your days blur together with the relentless tasks of sheep shearing, cattle herding, and countless other duties demanding your attention. Exhaustion seeps into your bones, leaving little energy for anything beyond the essential exchanges of ‘goodbye’ and ‘good morning’ shared over the phone, a stark reminder of the physical and emotional toll of your demanding lifestyles.

Tonight is one of those nights when every muscle in your body aches with weariness, longing for the soothing touch of Jimin’s hands to unravel the knots of tension and stress that cling stubbornly to your frame. The thought of sinking into the warm embrace of his oversized bathtub offers a glimmer of solace amidst the weariness, a sanctuary where the trials of ranch life can be temporarily forgotten. Despite feeling battered and bruised, the exhaustion of the day weighs heavy upon you, dragging you into the welcoming arms of sleep within mere minutes.

You’re unsure of how long you’ve been lost in slumber, but a peculiar scent and an eerie sound stir you from your rest. As consciousness slowly returns, your head feels heavy and your senses are muddled, the faint aroma of something resembling a campfire teasing your nostrils. The source of the scent eludes you, shrouded in the fog of fatigue that clouds your mind, as the haunting creak of wood contracting fills the air, sending a shiver down your spine.

→ Requested series taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @antisocial-mochi267

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @fancypeacepersona, @ktownshizzle, @pjmxxjm, @ajoonniice, @kookiewithluv, @mikrokookiex, @rapmonjoon94, @parkitrighthere,

→ Author’s endnote: 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 💜

#jimin x reader #pjm x reader #jimin smut #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #pjm smut #pjm fic #pjm fanfic #pjm x you #park jimin x reader #park jimin smut #park jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #bangtan smut #bangtan fic #bangtan fanfic #series: my heart's home

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goblinsofdiscord · 10 months ago

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The Agent Smith Effect 🔌🕴️ & The Enneagram 🕹️👾

by Larissa

Who is Agent Smith?

Agent Smith is the guy trying to block Neo from leaving The Matrix successfully - from thriving, from freeing others from the Matrix. And he self-replicates. He can takeover any person within this Matrix. And they don’t even know it’s happened. He jumps in any time the Matrix is threatened.

The “Agent Smith Effect” happens when we’re integrating our shadow. Breaking old patterns. Taking steps to leave our comfort zone. Shifting out of Autopilot. Not falling prey to the personality trap. The established IDENTITY. The “if I’m not like this I’m not me, I don’t exist.” Beliefs that came from traumas/emotional events, parents, conditioning.

Agent Smith shows up as fear, resistance, self-doubt, insecurity, shame, guilt, negative beliefs about what’s possible.

Leaving the Comfort Zone

Often our “comfort zone” is deeply uncomfortable but it can feel like the only way to be - a fact. Something that is true. Non-negotiable. “That’s just the way it is.”

Because stepping out of it activates anxiety, our nervous system, a significant emotional charge. It feels dangerous to change. And whenever we take steps towards actualizing our big dreams or changing a pattern/habit/belief that we know is keeping us stuck, the Agent Smith’s come out of the woodwork to keep us trapped in The Matrix aka the comfort zone.

Often when we start to change it can upset people around us. They want to stay in their patterns or panic that they can’t keep up or will be left behind. That you’ll leave them. Outgrow them. Not need them.

I don’t see triggers, obstacles or "Smiths" as something or someone to fear but as a sign that I’m leaving the comfort zone. I’m leaving the frequency of a level of the Matrix. I’m moving closer to my divine frequency and higher self. If there’s something inside of you that has a deep desire and it’s coming from a place of alignment and expansion and not lack or fear, I truly believe that it’s meant for you.

We overcomplicate things. Not on purpose. But these are the first level of Agent Smith’s that are preventing you from leaving the comfort zone. Resistance. Fear. Procrastination.

The next level is - "Ok, I’m gonna do it," and then the livestream craps out. Zoom won’t work. A jackhammer starts outside of your window when you’re trying to record something. Someone cancels. Weird weather events. Obstacles. Detours. Delays. Mercury in Retrograde 3000.

The video is more in-depth (and rambly) if you want to watch that here:

youtube

And then you make it through that part of the path, and then the real world Agent Smith’s - people you know, online trolls, whoever - start to rear their hideous heads. Spouting your worst fears at you like literal demons.

If something does happen - do NOT make it mean anything about you and what’s possible for you. Or interpret it as a sign to quit or give up. Hell no. Question your calling? Off the table. Your heart’s desire? Nope. Non-negotiable. These are AGENT FUCKING SMITH’S. And you, my friend, are Neo.

Agent Smith is merely a blip that is actually a SIGN that you’re moving out of your comfort zone and into the RIGHT DIRECTION. And it gets easier. It’s like when you play a video game, how at first it’s kind of difficult to get the hang of and you might have to play a level a few times and then it becomes a breeze. It’s just effortless because you’ve already normalized your system to all the jumps and goombas, you’re familiar with it, it’s whatever. And the part that used to feel hard becomes a walk in the park. And then you get to the next level. And those past fears and limiting beliefs get swallowed up by the demiurge’s recycling bin.

What to Do When You’re Triggered?

Notice how you feel. What sensations are present in your body? What thoughts? Where do you feel those sensations? Do they have a shape or colour?

What happens when you just allow it to be there for 90 seconds, without judging it? What happens when you allow it to be there and you show it some tenderness + unconditional love?

What do your emotions or thoughts tell you that they mean about you? Do these feel empowering, good, supportive, helpful to you?

These self-limiting thoughts can come from younger you (unconsciously trying to protect yourself from future pain - which actually recreates those situations), the fears/beliefs/judgments of people around you, but at the base level it’s also Agent Smith trying to prevent you from leaving the Matrix. The beauty of this is that you can work WITH the code, like Neo. You can become the game genie of your own life and create what YOU want instead of the default program.

So what do you want to believe about yourself, your possibilities and the world? You get to write that program.

How do you believe what you want to believe?

Flip the original belief/thought. Take those crusty thoughts + beliefs (statements like: "I'm a loser") and FLIP THEM (statements like: "I'm the fucking BOMB!!!" or... “I’m the COOLEST FUCKING LOSER IN THE MATRIX!”)

Or what would feel powerful, supportive, empowering, energizing to believe or say instead?

Now say these statements aloud and breathe life into them. Feel how much more empowering this is. Make these beautiful words your mantras for the next week and see what changes.

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#enneagram #the matrix #escape the matrix #self sabotage #manifestation #Youtube

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alyjojo · 1 year ago

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March 🌞 2024 Monthly - Capricorn

Preshuffle: Something you see or hear at/regarding work hits you in a way that, it hurts! Really hurts your feelings, but you also don’t know if it should or if someone *meant* to hurt your feelings. Were they even talking about you? You don’t speak up so you don’t know. Some of you have a crush on someone at work and it’s that person, for others it could be something regarding how someone looks. Or maybe you, again you don’t know. You’re worried maybe someone doesn’t like you at all.

Meditation: Short & sweet but cute as hell. Your door, was on the floor, and I had to “drop in” to get in, but it was made of ice cream sandwich. The actual door was. So I dropped in & took a bite of your door and you chuckled, cut off the piece I bit (germs hello) and replaced that spot, good as new. I asked what was this for and your eyes kinda sparkled when you said “I’m drawing them in.” Really, with ice cream? Yes! You knew what you were doing 🤷🏻‍♀️

Main energy: The Hermit

Oracles being Trap (connected to and mimicking 4 Swords), Self-Love, Principle, and Illness at the bottom which refuses to not be acknowledged - so it’s important. The Hermit is clarified by The Devil, and this energy is better than ice cream any day ijs. Or is that the trap? 🤔 Whooo I heard that and gasped 😱 it gave me goosebumps! Ok I don’t like that…moving on. Not for everyone, definitely for someone. For some of you, illness or addiction may be involved, health on some level. The Hermit goes inward, these are things you’re privately working through, taking a hard honest look at yourself and your own issues. Or…setting a trap for someone with that behavior, maybe you’re suspicious of someone proven as a Devil but acting as if they’ve changed. Have they though? You’re going deep within to figure that out - alone. Because these two cards specifically tackle codependency and breaking free from that - however it’s affecting you. A person, an addiction, a mindset, something that’s kept you in chains or threatens to? At the bottom is a lot of work, literally could be work, or you’re putting more into yourself independently because it’s necessary. Self care, healing, sleeping better, could be medical issues too.

What’s going on in March:

4 Swords:

Some of you are just done with love, the last experience probably kicked your butt, you have inner work to do and don’t want anyone else getting in the way of that. If you’re choosing to be alone, then you mean business, it’s not something you can be coerced with. The Emperor sets boundaries, and at the bottom of the deck there’s a pattern of abandonment, either in you or towards you, you realize this isn’t healthy and you’re actively taking steps to work on bettering yourself. Good for you 👏 Some of you may be dealing with a father figure / ex spouse perhaps, they could be dealing with health problems and want to make amends for past transgressions. This may be you too, if you have health issues (could just be sick sometime this month), then someone you’ve not been getting on well with could use this as the opportunity to “take care of” you and relight a spark. Do nice things. Idk if it actually is a trap or you just see it that way, what I get from someone else seems genuine. Judgement at the bottom is a hard review of past decisions & everything that’s happened, someone is sorry. Victory under that. Whether you believe them or not…🤷‍♂️ Could be you with the same energy, swooping in to save the day, or that was the intention. The trap.

Queen of Swords:

Clarified by Ace of Swords, 3 Pentacles, The Empress at the bottom. Likely a partner or parents. Great cards coming out so far, I was kinda expecting more doom & gloom, but no. For some of you it could literally be a Hermit mentality that’s becoming toxic, people want you around, likely your parents if that’s the case, could be grandparents, aunt/uncle or aunt/aunt idc, a pair you’re close (ish) to. The more feminine energy of the pair is the one trying to get you to come around, calling you, sending you some kind of news or invite, maybe for a coming holiday, it’s their excuse to see you again. Could be an ex if you’ve recently split, or your partner if not. They’re not being emotional at all, but they’re communicating to you with a sense of fairness, honesty, all positive cards at the bottom of the deck, this person sees you warmly & feels good to be around you 😊 They could ask for your help with something, also as an excuse, but I’m seeing it’s not manipulative or anything, they just want to work together. The image I’m getting is my own grandma calling my dad every year to set up her window air conditioner. She genuinely needed it but she liked asking *him*. Was it a “trap” yeah and also, go see Grandma 😆

If this is a private thing, both of these may be your energy and you’re separating yourself from just about everyone, seeing the truth of a matter, a cycle, and setting up strict rules & boundaries with anyone interacting with you going forward. Self-Care 💜 You’re not going to argue, it’s not drama, it’s you knowing what you need or don’t need, what’s good and bad for you, raising your standards. Probably because you’ve experienced the bad stuff, or you’re more intellectual with all of these swords, I don’t see emotions really appealing much to you. “Love” is a trap, but teamwork is essential.

Judgement:

Your attitude towards a reconnection of some kind is just not enthused at all. It’s like you don’t even care…could be a lack of emotions showing up as “illness”. I’m not a doctor so, no examples, I’m not even seeing any. Devoid of a deeper emotional connection, or enough experience with something to know better. Judgement feels like actual judgement, a reconnection is available for someone but most are internalizing and keeping to themselves. Whatever wants to reunite, you don’t. Or they don’t. Mostly because there are heavy emotions involved, hidden at the bottom, and they’re not being talked about. If you address it, you’re going to feel it, and if you feel it, you’re just going to be sad. So you stay alone and don’t, you don’t have to care in this headspace, you just work and focus on what’s in front of you. Comfortably Numb - is what I heard. The Devil.

For those where reconnecting doesn’t apply, you’re considering your work, everything you’ve been applying effort to, and you feel trapped either way. If you stay, you feel blocked, like things will never change, you could/should be appreciated more but you’re not. If you go, you’re just going to be sad you left and things are going to get worse, doom & gloom, there it is. The Devil 👿 Negative perceptions that keep you stuck, even if they’re based off of real things or past experiences, The Fool is something brand new, it’s not *the same* experience. Some of you realize this and may be seeking clarity on these mental judgements or behaviors even that keep you stuck. Probably privately, I’m not seeing a counselor here, but if it exists you recognize it. Someone may have flat out told you with this Queen of Swords energy.

Strength:

Strength conquers The Devil, that’s what you want to see, by refraining to be trapped, engage, or deal with anything involving this behavior - even in yourself. Re-tuning your own mind, if it jumps to the negative conclusion, questioning your own self. Now why would I think that? Oh, because I’m conditioned to. It isn’t easy, some of this may have come from parents in the first place (even well-meaning or healthy ones). The Hanged Man clarifies, so not only is your magnifying glass to yourself and your own bs, but Judgement with this row shows you’re also studying those around you and gauging where certain behaviors or beliefs may have come from. Why am I like this?? Essentially. The deeper motivations of people. Very powerful energy this month, heavy major arcana. Principle in your oracles show that this is based on a personal moral/belief system for you. Regardless of what others have taught, said, think, whatever, for YOU this is a spade, I’m allergic to spades. No spades by me. You can like spades and that’s fine but keep that shit over there because no. Or whatever it is.

At the bottom is a couple again, could be a person, could be parents. You don’t want to connect to the emotion attached to this situation, it’s *pure* logic, and you think emotions are the trap. Love is a trap. But there is very deep love here, whether for parents, a spouse, a whoever they are. All Cups, the matching Cups pair, could be your soulmate even. It’s like you don’t see that or don’t want to, it’s easier to make decisions from an intelligent and moralistic viewpoint than letting emotions get involved because then things get messy. Deep down it’s like you love something deeply and have sadness or regret, but it’s buried under all of this maturity belief system bs, and it’s like yeah okay whatever AND, you love them. Period. Whoever. Whatever. /avoid

If it’s work, you may not see how much people actually care for and appreciate you. Closest thing to love, you are a valued member of a team even if others don’t always show it. Some of you need to stop being so logical and check in with your heart. Are you happy? Do you love this thing you do? Do people appreciate you? Is it actually toxic or no? You’re ignoring the emotion part of decision making, it can look great on paper all the way down the page and you still hate it or love it so - that matters 💯

6 Swords:

Moving away from drama, but clarified by The Hermit it seems more like moving away from Hermit energy. Page of Cups at the bottom can be a surprise, an invitation, flirty energy even. The Star follows as healing, a light in the dark to show you the way. Lucy from Indigo shows a friend. Someone is going to message you, and it may freak you out at first because you’re living in a cave or something, but it actually turns out well. It gets you out of your head (for a minute anyway) so you can see things differently. You only feel stuck. Maybe you were meant to be stuck to realize some shit. But you’re not “meant to be stuck” forever. Someone else’s love or kindness can trigger you to be nicer to yourself, and let go of some of these negative perceptions about the world, life, love, emotion, etc. If work, someone is likely to surprise you and make things better then even you thought they’d be. Love can access things that logic can’t, because nothing about love is logical. Doesn’t have to be romantic either, someone giving off love towards you, could be a sweet stranger, it doesn’t matter but it’s going to inspire you.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Virgo, Capricorn, Libra, Leo & Aquarius

Oracle: ✨

38 Growth 🪴

This situation or time is one of rapid growth. The seeds that have been planted have germinated and taken root. Go with the flow of this growing time. You may find people and situations falling away from your life, as now they do not serve who and what you are becoming. It may be that your vibration no longer resonates with theirs. It’s okay, wish them well, be grateful for what they brought to you and you to them, and send them on their way. Room has now been made for new experiences, people, and situations to help you to your next level. If you are not feeling this shift right now, be prepared because it will soon come to pass.

Trap 🪤

Victim - Allure - Trick

Self-Love ❤️

Self Concern - Self Healing - Independence

Principle ⛪️ - Sagittarius Saturn

We enter into March as:

Final Sunset 🌅 :

“A life has come to its spectacular conclusion.”

This is a reminder to cherish all of the beauty in your life, including endings. Spirit embraces you and the loss you are aware of at this time. When we watch a day’s sunset, we can recognize the beauty of an ending. All things have a completion, even life. This is the end of a long journey. It is a time to reflect on your part of history, and discover what you value most. This could be a long emotional road ending, or simply a project at work that took a lot of effort and time. Too often we look to what is “next”, and miss the spectacular beauty of the finale. Do not fear the completion. Stay in the now, cry, laugh, reflect. Be with the fullness of your experience.

What is to be learned in March:

Lucy From Indigo 💟:

“I’m so glad you’re in my life.”

If this card has come to you, then you’ve been graced with a connection and you are most fortunate. One of the most valuable assets in our lives is friendship. This is a reminder to be grateful for the people in your life, this itself raises our vibration to a higher level. If you are unhappy in any relationships, Lucy is a reminder that it is always in our power to change it. Whatever lack you are feeling in your life, if you give that to others, you will receive the very thing you feel deprived of. The time is now to become what we want to become. If you are withholding from anyone it is you who will suffer the consequences. Be the example and live this day with gratitude. Kindness is contagious. In order to be who we want to be, we must simply be that person, there is no mystery to being a good person. Good people do good things.

Purple may be a lucky color 💜

#Capricorn #astrology #monthly tarot reading #march 2024 #monthly #tarot #Spotify

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soleilpinto · 3 days ago

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Duty of the Heart (Oscar Piastri) ⚜️⁀➴

"I worry that one day, someone will make you choose between duty and happiness. And that… that will break you."⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

Synopsis: As the princess of a powerful kingdom, your life has always been dictated by duty—especially when it comes to marriage. While noble suitors line up for your hand, your heart belongs to the one man you can never have: Oscar, your loyal knight, and childhood friend. But when a suitor's proposal threatens to expose your forbidden love, you must decide—follow the path chosen for you or risk everything for the man who has sworn to protect you.

Genre: Angst, Romance

AU: Medieval!au

Pairing: Knight!Oscar x Princess!Reader

Warnings: None

Note: A TWO MONTH BREAK 😭 Apologies for leaving you guys hanging for so long, I’m graduating in a month so I’ve been super busy in my personal life. Here’s a Oscar fic as a form of compensation because I love you guys, happy reading!

Oscar has always been in your life.

For as long as you can remember, he has been there—first as a boy trailing behind you in the castle corridors, then as a sparring partner in the training grounds, and now as the ever-present shadow at your side, sworn to protect you.

His family has served the crown for generations, and by extension, so has he. But unlike the other knights, Oscar is not just another sworn blade in the royal guard.

He is yours.

It has always been that way.

And yet, the moment you began to see him differently—when childhood affection turned into something deeper, something dangerous—that was when everything became complicated.

You think about that now, standing on the grand balcony overlooking the castle gardens, where the royal court has gathered for the evening feast.

The noblemen and suitors your parents have chosen for you are in attendance, eager to impress. You feel their eyes on you, their polite smiles and careful words all laced with expectation.

But your mind is elsewhere—lost in the past, in a memory that still lingers no matter how much time has passed.

A memory of golden sunlight, an apple tree, and the boy who would become your knight.

The late afternoon sun draped golden light over the castle gardens, turning the ivy-covered stone walls warm to the touch. A soft breeze carried the scent of fresh blooms—roses, lavender, and a hint of apple from the orchard just beyond the courtyard.

You weren’t supposed to be here. Right now, you were meant to be sitting stiffly in the grand hall, reciting courtly etiquette to your tutor, but the thought of another hour trapped inside made you restless.

So you did what you always did. You escaped.

Slipping through the narrow servant’s passage, you stepped onto the familiar stone path winding through the gardens. And there he was—exactly where you expected him to be.

Oscar stood beneath the old apple tree, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, sharpening a dull practice sword with careful precision.

Even in simple training attire, he carried himself with an effortless ease, his posture relaxed but always alert. He hadn’t noticed you yet, too focused on the task at hand.

A slow smirk spread across your lips.

You crouched, picked up a fallen apple, and lobbed it toward him.

Thud.

The apple bounced off his shoulder. Oscar stilled. For a brief moment, his entire body tensed, hand instinctively shifting toward the sword at his waist. But then he turned, dark brows raising as his sharp gaze landed on you.

"Really?" His voice was flat, unimpressed.

You grinned, feigning innocence. "Oh, my apologies, Ser Piastri. I was aiming for your head."

Oscar exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he tossed the apple aside. "You know, most people wouldn’t think it’s wise to attack the one person sworn to protect them."

"Most people wouldn’t expect their sworn protector to be so easy to hit," you quipped.

Oscar gave you a look, the kind that suggested he was debating whether or not he actually wanted to keep protecting you. But he didn’t argue, which you counted as a victory.

You stepped closer, lifting the hem of your gown slightly to avoid the dirt. "What are you doing out here anyway?"

"Training."

You eyed the dull wooden blade in his hands. "That’s not a real sword."

"No, but it’s still sharp enough to throw at you."

You gasped, pressing a dramatic hand to your chest. "Ser Piastri, threatening a member of the royal family? That sounds dangerously close to treason."

Oscar huffed a quiet laugh. "And yet, somehow, I don’t think the punishment would be severe enough to make it worth it."

You pouted. "You’re no fun."

"And you are supposed to be in a lesson right now," he pointed out.

"Supposed to be," you echoed. "But I decided diplomacy could wait."

Oscar gave you a long look, arms crossing over his chest. "One of these days, your tutor is going to have a heart attack."

"And when he does, I’ll make sure the healers tend to him immediately," you said sweetly.

Oscar sighed, running a hand down his face as if dealing with you was an exhausting job. You supposed, in some ways, it was. But then, despite himself, he reached a hand out to help you up onto the low stone wall beside him. You took it without hesitation, his grip steady and sure.

"You’re impossible," he muttered.

"And you’re predictable," you countered. "Every time I sneak away, you’re always here. Almost like you knew I would come."

Oscar hesitated, then simply shrugged. "Or maybe I just like apples."

You laughed, the sound light and unguarded.

But then, a sharp voice echoed from the castle corridors.

"Your Highness!"

You winced. Oscar sighed.

"Time to go," he murmured.

You knew it was foolish—you were not a child anymore, and Oscar was no longer just a boy who ran after you when you snuck away. But still, before you could think better of it, you leaned in and pressed a quick, fleeting kiss to his cheek.

Oscar froze.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. His breath caught, his fingers twitching slightly at his side.

When you pulled away, his expression was unreadable, something careful and restrained settling over his features.

"You should go," he said, voice quieter now.

You hesitated—just for a moment—but then turned away, heading back to the castle.

Even as you walked, you could feel his gaze on you. Watching. Protecting.

Always.

The memory fades, but the feeling lingers.

Back on the grand balcony, you take a slow breath, hands tightening against the stone railing. The weight of expectation presses down on you, suffocating.

You glance across the courtyard, and there—standing in his usual place, just behind the crowd, sharp eyes scanning for any sign of danger—is Oscar.

You know he can feel your gaze, even if he refuses to meet it.

Because some things never change.

And some things… you wish would.

The late afternoon sun slanted across the castle gardens, casting dappled shadows on the cobblestone paths. The scent of blooming roses mixed with the fresh earth, a fragrance you found both grounding and nostalgic.

You had walked these gardens countless times as a child, exploring every hidden corner, every quiet nook.

Now, though, they had become an escape.

"Your Highness," a soft voice broke through your thoughts.

You turned to find your lady-in-waiting, keeping her distance but still too close for comfort. Her eyes were cautious, as if waiting for permission to speak.

"Yes, Constance?" you asked, voice soft but firm enough to signal that you weren’t in the mood for idle chatter.

"I’ve been instructed to remind you that your presence is requested in the great hall for the feast," she said, glancing nervously at the horizon where the sun was beginning to dip.

"I know," you replied, a trace of irritation in your voice. "But I wish to be alone for a while."

Constance opened her mouth to protest, but you gave her a pointed look. She hesitated, then curtsied, a resigned nod following.

"Very well, Your Highness. I will inform the queen."

With that, she turned and walked back toward the castle, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more.

You didn’t want to be there—surrounded by the court, surrounded by the suitors your parents had deemed suitable. Their smiles were sweet, their words carefully measured. But it wasn’t their faces you longed to see.

You had to find him.

You walked quickly through the gardens, making your way to the familiar apple tree where Oscar would be waiting.

The path was shaded by thick vines and hanging branches, the quiet of the gardens broken only by the distant murmur of the palace and the occasional rustle of wind through the leaves.

You paused at the base of the tree, looking up at the thick canopy. The place was just as you remembered it. Quiet. Hidden. Safe.

And there he was, standing beneath the tree, leaning against its weathered trunk as he always did. His arms were crossed over his chest, but his posture was relaxed, as though this was a space only for the two of you.

Despite the absence of his armor, there was still an unmistakable air of command about him. He was a knight in every sense of the word, even when not in uniform.

Oscar’s dark eyes caught yours almost immediately. For a brief moment, neither of you moved. Time seemed to stand still as he regarded you.

His gaze was sharp, intense, but there was something more in his eyes—a warmth you couldn’t explain. Something that you had never felt with anyone else.

He pushed off from the tree with a quiet grace and met you halfway.

"I thought I might see you today," he said, his voice low and familiar.

"You knew I would come," you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

He shrugged, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor, something almost… tender.

"Maybe I was just waiting for you to find me."

You stopped a few paces from him, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. The tension between you was palpable, but neither of you spoke about it.

You didn’t have to. It had always been there.

"I need to get away," you confessed, the words escaping before you could think better of them. "From everything. From them."

Oscar nodded, his gaze softening just a fraction. "I understand."

The silence between you grew, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that only comes when two people who have known each other for years share the same thoughts, even if they are left unspoken.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. His hand shifted slightly toward you, but he didn’t reach for you—not yet.

You found yourself stepping forward, just a little, closing the distance between you. Oscar didn’t step back, his gaze never leaving yours.

"You shouldn’t be out here," he finally said, though his voice lacked the usual reprimand. It was softer, almost a whisper.

"It’s dangerous."

You shook your head, taking another step until you were standing so close to him that your breath mingled.

"No one is looking for me," you said, your voice barely more than a whisper.

"I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you."

Oscar’s brow furrowed at that, and he tilted his head, trying to understand the meaning behind your words.

"What do you mean?"

You met his gaze, heart racing as your fingers reached out, tracing the edge of his sleeve with a light touch.

"You always protect me. But who looks after you?"

His breath caught, just for a moment.

"You don’t have to worry about me."

But you could hear the unspoken weight in his voice—the unsaid words.

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against his hand now. "But I do."

Without thinking, you took another small step forward, pressing yourself against him just enough that the warmth of his body enveloped you. He tensed for a moment, but you didn’t pull away.

"I want to stay here," you murmured, your voice thick with the weight of the moment. "With you."

Oscar’s hand moved, slowly but surely, until it was resting on your shoulder. His fingers were gentle, his touch betraying the usual reserve he kept with everyone else.

"One day," he whispered, his voice low and almost strained. "Someone will notice. And then everything changes."

"Let it change," you replied softly, your gaze never leaving his. "For now, let me have this."

He paused, his gaze searching yours, weighing the moment. And then, with a quiet sigh, he pulled you closer, his hand at your back guiding you in. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your fingers.

When his lips brushed against your forehead, it was as if the world shifted around you. The years of friendship, the weight of your responsibilities, and the knowledge that what you shared here, now, was fleeting—none of it mattered in that instant.

The only thing that mattered was him. And you.

And the fragile, stolen time between you.

It feels like only yesterday that you first saw Oscar in a different light. Back then, he was just another knight in the training yard—a skilled swordsman, quick with a quip, and always so serious when it came to the duties of his family.

But that all changed on the day he was promoted to your personal guard.

It was a quiet morning, the sun still soft and low in the sky, when your father, the king, called for the royal council to convene.

The air was thick with tension, as it always was before such meetings. And yet, when the doors opened and your father stepped into the chamber, his presence alone quieted the room.

"Today," he began, his voice firm and unwavering, "I have made a decision." His gaze swept across the faces of his advisors and the knights assembled.

Your heart beat a little faster.

Oscar stood to the side, as he always did, eyes lowered in respectful silence, though there was a glint in his eyes—a barely perceptible shift in his demeanor as he stood straighter than usual.

You noticed it at once, though you said nothing.

"The time has come for the princess to have a personal guard," your father continued, his tone final. "A knight who will protect her not only from danger but from the perils of court itself."

You glanced at Oscar, confusion flickering in your chest. The others, however, were already murmuring amongst themselves, nodding in approval.

Your father’s gaze landed on Oscar, and your heart skipped a beat.

"Oscar Piastri," he declared. "You will serve as the princess’s personal guard. From this day forward, you will answer to her."

There it was—the moment when everything shifted.

When Oscar was no longer just the boy who trained with you, but the knight who swore an oath to protect you, it was a shift you felt deeply, and one you both knew would change everything.

Now, as the weight of the decision made so long ago settled around you again, you found yourself in the quietest corner of the palace—the library.

The scent of old parchment and leather-bound books lingered in the air. The shelves, stacked high with wisdom and secrets, felt like a refuge from the bustling palace life, a place where time seemed to slow, and the world outside faded into nothing.

The late afternoon light poured through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the marble floor.

You had come here to escape the weight of your responsibilities, the endless suitors your parents paraded before you, the eyes always watching, always waiting for you to choose.

Your fingers ran lightly along the spines of books as you wandered deeper into the room, eventually making your way to your favorite nook—a small alcove at the back of the library where no one could hear your thoughts.

You took a deep breath, sinking into the leather armchair, the quiet of the space settling over you.

But it didn’t last long.

The sound of footsteps reached your ears before you saw him.

Oscar stepped into the alcove, his figure framed in the doorway. He had removed his armor again, his presence still commanding, even without the weight of the steel.

His face was unreadable as usual, but there was a soft tension in his posture, the kind that only came when he was worried about you.

"Your Highness," he said quietly, his tone soft but firm.

You looked up at him, your heart quickening. He had always been there, always just beyond the reach of the court, but today, the weight of the moment pressed down on you in a way it hadn’t before.

“Oscar, we’ve known each other for so long. I don’t think this formality applies when we’re alone,” you chuckle.

"Also, I thought you’d be at the feast," you continued, though you already knew why he wasn’t there.

Oscar didn’t move, didn’t sit. He remained standing, the faintest shadow of uncertainty in his gaze.

"I couldn’t stay. Not when I knew you’d be here." His eyes softened slightly. "You’ve been avoiding them again."

You gave a small, wry smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"I don’t need to be paraded around like a prized possession, Oscar."

His gaze hardened, and for a moment, there was a flash of something unspoken in his eyes—something possessive, something that mirrored your own frustration. But it was quickly masked by his usual composure.

"I know. But you also need to be careful."

You sighed and leaned back in the chair, the weariness of the day settling over you.

"I didn’t ask for this. Any of it. The suitors, the expectations." You glanced up at him, your voice quiet. "You know that, don’t you?"

Oscar nodded. "I do."

The two of you stood there in silence for a long moment, the weight of your shared understanding filling the space. You had known each other for so long, the bond between you had long since surpassed any formality.

He was your protector, yes—but more than that, he was someone you trusted with the deepest parts of yourself.

At last, Oscar broke the silence. "I worry about you, Your Highness," he said, stepping closer.

His voice was low, almost a whisper.

"I worry that one day, someone will make you choose between duty and happiness. And that… that will break you."

You sat up straighter, your eyes meeting his. The words hung in the air like an unspoken promise.

"Oscar, I’m not sure I can keep going on like this. I don’t know how much longer I can pretend that everything is fine."

For the first time, Oscar’s expression softened into something far more tender, his eyes filled with the care he always showed when it was just the two of you.

He didn’t speak at once, instead walking toward you and lowering himself to a knee, bringing himself to your level.

"You don’t have to pretend with me," he said simply, his hand resting just inches from yours. "Not now. Not ever."

You reached out, brushing your fingers against his, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. The simple gesture, the quiet exchange of unspoken truths, was all you needed in that moment.

"I never wanted this life for you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Oscar’s eyes darkened, and for a brief second, there was a flicker of pain in them.

"I chose this life the day I swore to protect you," he murmured. "And I will never regret it, not for a second."

The weight of his words hung in the air, his promise lingering in the space between you. And though the world outside the library was loud, filled with the endless hum of court life and expectations, in this small, quiet space, it was just the two of you—unseen, untouched by the world beyond.

For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to forget everything else.

You allowed yourself to just be—with him.

The grand hall is alive with music and light, a dazzling display of nobility dressed in their finest silks and adorned with jewels that catch the golden glow of the chandeliers above.

The scent of roses and expensive perfumes mingles with the richness of aged wine, and laughter rings through the vast space, blending with the waltz that plays in the background.

It is yet another ball. Another night where you are expected to stand in the center of it all, smiling gracefully as the kingdom’s most eligible bachelors parade before you, each hoping to be the one you choose.

And of course, standing in the shadows, as he always does, is Oscar.

You don’t have to look to know he is there.

He is always there.

Leaning casually against one of the towering marble pillars at the edge of the ballroom, he watches the festivities with the same unreadable expression he always wears—calm, observant, utterly indifferent to the lavishness around him.

He’s shed most of his armor for the evening, only his sword still resting at his hip, its presence as much a part of him as the very air he breathes.

He looks as though he is standing guard, as if he is simply another knight fulfilling his duty.

But you know better.

Because even without meeting his gaze, you can feel the way his eyes follow your every movement.

And when you do glance in his direction—briefly, discreetly—you catch the faintest flicker of amusement dancing in his hazel eyes.

Smug.

Of course he’s smug.

Because he’s noticed it too.

The way your smiles don’t quite reach your eyes. The way your laughter is polite but never real. The way your replies to the suitors’ attempts at charm are composed, effortless, but never genuine.

Oscar shifts slightly, arms crossing over his chest, the corner of his lips barely twitching in what could almost be called a smirk.

You bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself not to react.

"Your Highness," the noble before you says, drawing your attention back to the conversation.

The young duke from a neighboring kingdom offers you a dazzling smile, oblivious to the fact that your mind had momentarily wandered elsewhere.

"I must say, you are even more breathtaking in person than the rumors claim."

A practiced compliment. A rehearsed smile.

You return his words with a graceful nod. "You are kind to say so, my lord."

The duke steps closer, lowering his voice just enough to feign intimacy. "I imagine you must grow tired of these balls," he muses, eyes twinkling with what he likely assumes is charm.

"So many suitors, all desperate for a moment of your time. It must be exhausting, having the entire kingdom vying for your affection."

You offer a polite, measured laugh.

"It is part of my duty, my lord."

Another flawless response. Another moment where you play the role expected of you.

And from across the room, Oscar sees right through it.

His fingers drum idly against the hilt of his sword, his smirk deepening ever so slightly.

You can hear the words he isn’t saying, the teasing remarks he would make if only the two of you weren’t in the middle of a crowded ballroom.

"Careful, princess. Smile any wider, and they might start thinking you actually enjoy this."

The thought makes your lips press together slightly, as if to suppress a laugh that was never meant to escape.

Oscar notices that too.

His head tilts just so, the way it always does when he’s quietly entertained by something. His eyes gleam with knowing amusement, as if to say, You can fool them, but you can’t fool me.

The duke is still speaking, though you hardly register his words now. Something about how the stars pale in comparison to your beauty. Something about how he would be honored to stand by your side.

You glance toward Oscar again, unable to stop yourself.

He raises an eyebrow, an almost imperceptible movement, but you catch it nonetheless.

Is this the best they can do?

It’s infuriating, really. The way he can say so much without uttering a single word. The way he stands there so unbothered, so utterly himself while you are forced to endure another evening of political pleasantries.

And yet…

And yet, you find yourself grateful for his presence.

Because even though he is not at your side, even though he stands just far enough to remain unnoticed by the rest of the court, there is a quiet comfort in knowing he is watching.

That he is here.

That he will always be here.

A new suitor approaches then, a nobleman with sharp blue eyes and a confident stride.

The duke reluctantly steps aside, giving the newcomer space to introduce himself. You turn to greet him, offering another graceful nod, another polite smile.

And out of the corner of your eye—

Oscar exhales slowly, shaking his head just enough for you to notice.

"Another one? This should be entertaining."

It’s a good thing the ballroom is so loud.

Otherwise, someone might hear the soft, breathless laugh that escapes you.

Tonight, you are the kingdom’s jewel, on display for the finest suitors to admire and court.

He is not part of this world—the world of ballrooms and nobility, of silk gloves and honeyed words. He was never meant to belong here. And yet, he watches, his back against a marble pillar, his gaze never once leaving you.

It is both his duty and his torment.

Because while everyone else in this room sees you as a princess, as a future queen, as a prize to be won—he sees you.

He sees the way your smile is just a touch too polite, the way your eyes flicker with quiet disinterest even as you entertain the endless stream of noblemen vying for your hand.

And it amuses him.

Because of course you don’t care for any of them.

Oscar’s arms are loosely crossed, his fingers tapping idly against his forearm as his gaze flickers between you and the noble currently trying (and failing) to charm you.

From a distance, he looks bored, as if none of this concerns him. But the truth is, he is far too entertained by the way you are so clearly enduring this rather than enjoying it.

"Careful, princess," he thinks, lips curving slightly in the faintest hint of a smirk. "Smile any wider, and they might start thinking you actually enjoy this."

Your eyes flick toward him for just a second—so brief no one else would notice, but Oscar catches it instantly.

And the moment you do, he knows you’ve caught him smirking.

It’s almost imperceptible, the way your lips press together, as if to fight back a genuine smile. As if, for just a second, you wish you could roll your eyes at him instead of at the man before you.

Oscar leans back against the pillar, shifting his weight slightly, knowing full well he’s been caught and not caring in the slightest.

Because he knows you.

Knows that the noble before you, with his rehearsed flattery and empty words, has already lost your interest.

Knows that, even in a room filled with men begging for your attention, you are thinking of him.

The thought sends something warm curling in his chest.

But then the noble steps closer.

Oscar’s smirk fades.

The man is still talking, his voice lowering just enough to feign a sense of intimacy, his confidence brimming as he leans in ever so slightly. Not enough to be inappropriate—but enough that Oscar notices.

Enough that his fingers instinctively tighten around the hilt of his sword.

The conversation is polite, nothing he can interfere with, but he wants to.

Wants to step forward. Wants to place himself between you and the man before you. Wants to give some excuse—any excuse—to remove you from the conversation.

But he does not move.

He cannot.

Because he is not your suitor.

He is your knight.

So instead, he watches. His grip tightens. His jaw clenches.

And then you do something that nearly undoes him.

You glance toward him—subtly, carefully—just for a second.

And in that moment, Oscar sees it.

The way your eyes meet his in silent understanding. The way you are searching for him in the midst of all this. The way you are standing before a hundred noblemen who wish to claim you—and yet, it is him you turn to.

Something inside him aches.

If only I could be the one standing before her.

If only he could be the one offering you, his hand, whispering promises only you were meant to hear. If only he could pull you away from all this, from the duties and expectations weighing so heavily on your shoulders.

But he is not a prince.

He is not a nobleman.

He is just a knight.

And knights do not get to love princesses.

So instead, he does the only thing he can do.

He holds your gaze for just a second longer, just long enough for you to know—I’m here.

And when you turn away, returning to the conversation with a flawless, practiced smile—

Oscar exhales.

And he waits.

And he aches.

The ball has long ended, and yet, the echoes of music still hum in your mind.

Laughter, conversation, the clinking of crystal goblets—all of it lingers in the stillness of the palace halls as you walk, the heavy train of your gown brushing against the marble floor.

The torches that once illuminated the grand ballroom have dimmed, leaving only the faint golden glow of lanterns to guide your way.

But you are not headed toward your chambers.

Not yet.

Your ladies-in-waiting had asked if you wished for assistance in undressing, but you dismissed them, claiming exhaustion. And though you are tired—exhausted, really—it is not your body that aches.

It is your heart.

So instead of retiring for the night, you find yourself wandering the palace corridors until you step past the great archway that leads to the royal gardens.

It is quiet here.

Peaceful.

The air is crisp, carrying the scent of roses and lavender, the bushes still heavy with late-summer blooms.

The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a silver glow over the stone pathways, illuminating the small fountains and marble statues scattered throughout the grounds.

You exhale, closing your eyes as you let the coolness of the night soothe you.

And then—

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t come.”

Your eyes snap open at the sound of the familiar voice, low and edged with quiet amusement.

Oscar.

He stands by the stone railing of the terrace overlooking the gardens, still clad in his uniform from the ball—though the formal sash across his chest has been loosened, and the first few buttons of his collar are undone. His posture is relaxed, arms loosely crossed, his sword still resting at his hip.

He looks perfectly at ease, as if he belongs here, standing beneath the moonlight, waiting for you.

And perhaps he does.

Perhaps he always has.

You step closer, shaking your head. “I didn’t realize I had an appointment.”

Oscar smirks. “You always come here after the balls.”

You hesitate at that, because—you suppose he’s right.

On nights like this, when the weight of your duties feels suffocating, when the expectations placed upon you feel too heavy to bear, you always find yourself seeking solace in the gardens.

And somehow, without ever needing to arrange it, Oscar is always there.

You glance up at him, your voice quieter now. “And yet, here you are.”

Oscar shifts slightly, leaning one arm against the railing.

“Someone has to make sure you don’t fall into a fountain.”

That draws a small, reluctant laugh from you.

“That was one time.”

“One time is enough.” He tilts his head, studying you for a moment. “Rough night?”

You don’t answer immediately. Instead, you turn, resting your hands against the cool stone of the terrace as you gaze out over the garden. The flowers are still vibrant under the moon’s glow, and yet, tonight, they do not bring you peace.

After a long moment, you whisper, “I wish things were different.”

Oscar doesn’t speak right away.

He doesn’t push, doesn’t demand an answer from you. He simply waits—because he knows you.

Knows that eventually, you’ll let the words slip free.

And you do.

“I wish I wasn’t the princess,” you murmur, your fingers curling against the stone. “I wish I wasn’t bound to all these expectations—forced to entertain men who don’t even know me, let alone love me.” You swallow, voice growing tighter.

“I wish I could—” The words catch, but you push through them. “I wish I could love you freely.”

The confession hangs between you like a fragile thread, delicate and dangerous all at once.

Oscar still doesn’t move. For a moment, he doesn’t even breathe.

Then—slowly—he exhales, tilting his head down as a wry, almost bitter smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“You deserve a good life, Y/N,” he says at last, his voice low, steady. “One where you don’t have to hide or wish things were different.”

Your throat tightens, and you turn to face him fully. “But I don’t want a life without you in it.”

Oscar’s gaze flickers. Something inside him—something he keeps so carefully restrained—fractures.

He is silent for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to memorize every unspoken thought you’ve left between the lines of your words.

Then, carefully—so carefully—he reaches out.

His gloved hand brushes against yours. A hesitant touch, uncertain—until you turn your palm up, letting your fingers curl around his.

His grip tightens just slightly.

Enough to tell you that he understands. Enough to tell you that he wishes things were different, too.

But the world is not kind to lovers like you.

And yet, despite everything—despite knowing better—Oscar lifts your joined hands and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

It is the kind of thing that should be harmless. A courtly gesture, one of politeness and decorum. But it is not.

Not when he lingers. Not when his lips press against your skin with a reverence that makes your heart ache.

Not when you are looking at him like this.

The space between you is too small, too fragile.

Oscar watches you carefully, his eyes dark, guarded—his restraint hanging by a thread. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs.

You don’t.

Instead, you close the distance.

His breath hitches the moment your lips meet, his fingers tightening instinctively around yours. The kiss is soft, almost hesitant at first—until something in him unravels.

And then— Oscar’s free hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer.

Your fingers tangle in the fabric of his uniform, gripping tightly as you lose yourself in him, in the quiet desperation of a love that neither of you are allowed to have.

His lips are warm, his touch careful, reverent—yet beneath it all, there is longing.

A longing that has been buried for far too long and here, beneath the cover of the midnight sky, he lets it show.

When you finally pull away, your forehead rests against his, your breaths mingling, hearts racing. Oscar exhales a quiet, breathless laugh, his thumb grazing against your cheek.

“You really are going to give your lady-in-waiting a heart attack.”

You laugh, and this time, it is real. But reality is waiting, and you know you cannot linger here forever. So, wordlessly, Oscar offers you his arm.

And as he escorts you through the quiet halls of the palace, back to the sanctuary of your chambers—

You wonder if, just maybe, you could wish for one more stolen moment like this.

One more secret kiss.

One more chance to love him, even in the shadows, because if this is all you can have— then you will take it. And Oscar, despite everything, will let you.

Because he has never known how to refuse you.

You knew something was wrong the moment your parents called you to their private chambers.

The way the guards stationed outside the door stood a little too still. The way your mother’s hands were folded neatly in her lap, her expression unreadable. The way your father, a man of authority and logic, avoided meeting your gaze for the first time in your life.

You knew.

And yet, nothing could have prepared you for the words that left his lips.

“Your engagement to Prince Lando Norris has been finalized.”

Your world tilts.

“What?” Your voice barely escapes you, a breathless whisper.

Your mother sighs, as if she had expected this reaction.

“You knew this day would come, dearest. It is a strong match—Lando’s kingdom will—”

“I don’t care about his kingdom,” you snap, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “You promised me—I trusted you when you said I would have a say in my future.”

Your father finally looks at you. His eyes are firm, unyielding.

“This is not a punishment, Y/N. It is your duty. Prince Lando is a good man, and his family is powerful. You will not only be a queen but a revered one.”

But you don’t want to be a queen.

You don’t want him.

You want—

Your breath trembles as you take a step back, shaking your head. “No.”

Your mother’s expression softens, but your father’s darkens.

“No?” His voice is sharp. “You don’t have the luxury of refusal.”

Anger burns in your chest, white-hot and all-consuming.

“Then why even pretend I did? Why make me believe I had a choice when you had already decided my fate?”

Silence.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Was I always just a pawn to you?”

Your mother’s voice is gentle. “You are our daughter. And that is why we have chosen a good future for you.”

You stare at her—at both of them—and realize, with a heavy heart, that they will never understand.

That your life has never truly belonged to you.

And so, without another word, you turn on your heel and leave, your vision blurring as you flee the room.

The dress they chose for you that night is beautiful. It is silk, a soft ivory shade embroidered with gold thread, designed to make you look every bit the princess you are expected to be.

Your ladies-in-waiting fuss over your hair, pinning jewels into place, smoothing out the fabric of your gown, whispering about how fortunate you are.

You barely hear them.

Your mind is elsewhere. Your heart is elsewhere.

Somewhere in the quiet corridors of the palace, Oscar is going about his duties. Does he know? Has he heard?

And if he has—why hasn’t he come? Why hasn’t he stopped this?

But even as the thought crosses your mind, you know the answer.

He can’t.

And that is what makes your chest ache the most.

By the time you enter the grand dining hall, the evening is in full swing. The long table is draped in the finest linens, candles flickering along its length, the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine thick in the air. Nobles sit in their assigned places, engaged in polite conversation, but all attention shifts when you enter.

Including his.

Prince Lando.

He rises to his feet as you approach, a grin pulling at the corners of his lips. He is dressed finely—navy blue and gold, his dark curls slightly tousled, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief.

He bows when you reach him. “Your Highness.”

You hesitate before curtsying. “Your Highness.”

Lando’s grin widens as he extends his hand. “Lando,” he corrects smoothly. “If we are to be bound together, we might as well drop the formalities, don’t you think?”

You blink, caught off guard. You had expected arrogance. Coldness. The same emptiness that so many of your previous suitors carried.

Instead, you find charm.

And yet—

As Lando guides you to your seat beside him, your gaze flickers across the room.

Your heart stutters.

Oscar stands at the far end of the hall, half-hidden in the shadows between the pillars, his expression unreadable. He is dressed in his finest guard uniform, the silver embellishments glinting under the candlelight.

But his hands— his hands are clenched into fists.

Your throat tightens.

You turn back to Lando as he pours you a glass of wine, still smiling, still speaking—though you barely hear him because your heart isn’t sitting beside you.

It is across the room.

Watching. Breaking.

Waiting to shatter.

Late into the night, after the dinner has ended, after you have smiled and laughed and played the perfect princess, you find yourself drawn to the place you know he will be.

The courtyard is empty when you find him, and you are right. Oscar is there, his back to you, his sword swinging in sharp, powerful arcs.

His movements are stiff. Frustrated. Angry.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Your voice is quiet, but the accusation is clear.

Oscar doesn’t stop. He grips his sword tighter, his stance sharp and defensive.

“I’m doing my duty,” he mutters.

You step forward, arms crossing. “Your duty? Is that all I am to you?”

This time, he does pause. His shoulders tense, his breath heavy. And then, slowly—so slowly—he turns. His expression is unreadable.

“You’re everything to me.” Your breath catches.

He exhales, voice quieter now. Raw.

“And that’s the problem.” Something inside you snaps.

Tears burn at the back of your eyes as you step closer, gripping his wrist before he can turn away again.

“Oscar.” He flinches slightly at your touch, his resolve wavering.

You shake your head, your voice breaking. “Say it.”

He stares at you. “Say what?”

“Say you don’t love me.”

Silence.

His jaw tightens. His fingers tremble beneath your grasp. The moonlight casts sharp shadows over his face, highlighting the war behind his eyes.

Then—finally—he exhales, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t.”

The confession is devastating.

And yet, it is all you need.

Your grip on his wrist tightens for a brief moment before you pull him forward—into you.

Into your arms. Into the only place he has ever truly belonged.

And for a moment, just a moment, the world and all its cruel expectations disappear.

Days pass. And with them, so does any sense of control you once had over your life.

Prince Lando is nothing like the suitors before him—he is clever, charismatic, kind.

He does not treat you like a trophy to be won but rather a puzzle to be solved. He asks you questions no other nobleman has cared to ask before. About your dreams. Your childhood. Your thoughts on the war strategies of neighboring kingdoms.

And you, against your will, find yourself liking him.

Not in the way your parents hope. Not in the way that makes your heart race, that makes your chest ache with longing.

Not in the way you love Oscar.

But still—Lando is a good man.

And it makes it all the worse. Because every time he smiles at you, every time he pulls out a chair for you, every time he offers you his arm to guide you through the castle halls, there is another pair of eyes watching.

And they are filled with silent suffering.

Oscar is always there. He stands at a respectful distance, his posture rigid, his hands clasped behind his back. But he knows you too well to be fooled by your carefully placed smiles and polite nods.

He sees the tension in your shoulders, the way your fingers tremble ever so slightly when Lando brushes his hand against yours. He notices how your laughter rings hollow, how your gaze flickers toward him when you think no one is looking.

But no one else seems to notice.

Because you are playing your role perfectly.

Oscar watches, unseen yet always watching, his own emotions a carefully concealed storm beneath his armor. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightens when Lando leans in to whisper something in your ear.

When you laugh—force yourself to laugh—it’s all he can do to keep his expression neutral.

She is smiling, but it’s not real. I know her smile, if only I could be the one standing before her.

The breaking point comes at the end of the night.

After hours of entertaining Lando the whole day, smiling until your cheeks ache, you finally retreat.

Lando bids you goodnight with a small, knowing smirk, disappearing into his chambers. The second his door shuts behind him, you turn on your heel.

Your feet move swiftly through the dimly lit corridors, past the royal guards, past the curious glances of the castle staff.

You know exactly where to go.

And when you reach the door of your private study—your sanctuary—you find him already there, as if he knew you would come. As if he had been waiting.

Oscar is leaning against the grand mahogany desk, arms crossed over his chest, eyes unreadable. He doesn’t say anything when you enter, but you feel the tension radiating off him.

You shut the door behind you, exhaling shakily.

“Oscar—”

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

His voice is calm. Too calm.

You flinch. “Don’t.”

He scoffs, pushing off the desk, taking a slow step toward you.

“Don’t what, princess?” His tone is laced with something sharp, something bitter.

“Don’t acknowledge the fact that you seemed rather comfortable with your betrothed?”

You glare at him. “What was I supposed to do? Defy my parents in front of an entire court? Humiliate Lando when he’s done nothing wrong?”

Oscar lets out a humorless laugh.

“You could have at least pretended to be miserable.”

You throw your hands up in frustration.

“And what would that have changed? Would it have undone the engagement? Would it have made this any easier?”

Silence.

Oscar exhales, running a hand over his face.

“No.” His voice is quieter now, strained. “But at least I wouldn’t have had to stand there and watch.”

Your chest tightens. Slowly, cautiously, you step closer, your voice softer now.

“It’s torture for me too, you know.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and whatever restraint he’s been holding onto shatters.

Before you can think, his hands are on your waist, pulling you against him. His forehead drops to yours, and you close your eyes, breathing him in.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” he murmurs, his voice raw.

Your fingers clutch at the fabric of his tunic.

“Then let’s stop pretending.”

Oscar pulls back slightly, brows furrowing.

“What?”

You lift your chin, determination settling in your chest.

“Let’s leave.”

His eyes widen slightly. “Y/N—”

“I mean it,” you whisper. “If we stay, we lose. Either we suffer in silence, or we get caught and suffer a far worse fate. But if we leave—”

A future. A chance. Freedom.

For a moment, Oscar doesn’t speak. He just stares at you, searching, his grip tightening at your waist.

Then, finally—finally—his lips curl into the smallest, most dangerous smirk.

“You really are reckless,” he mutters.

Your own lips tug into a smile. “You love it.”

He huffs a small laugh. “I really do.”

And just like that, a plan is set into motion.

You should be used to this by now.

The routine, the conversations, the effortless charm that Prince Lando possesses—it all blends together into something pleasant. And perhaps that’s what makes it so much worse.

Because as the days pass, you are not miserable. You are not trapped in the company of a cruel or indifferent man. Instead, you are surrounded by Lando’s warmth, by his laughter, by his easy companionship.

But it does not reach the deepest parts of you. It does not set fire to your soul the way he does.

You try to bury it, to push aside the ache in your chest when you catch glimpses of Oscar standing at a distance, always watching, always waiting. But it festers. It grows. And as much as you try to pretend, the weight of your own heart is becoming unbearable.

Lando notices.

At first, he does not say anything, merely observes you with a quiet sort of patience. When you take longer to respond to his questions, when your smiles lack the brightness they once did, when your gaze lingers too long elsewhere—he takes it all in.

And then, one evening, over the soft glow of candlelight at dinner, he finally speaks.

“You don’t love me, do you?”

Your fingers tighten around your fork.

The words are not cruel. They are not laced with bitterness. They are simply resigned.

A quiet, sinking truth.

Your breath catches, and you immediately avert your gaze, staring down at your plate. “Lando…”

“I knew it.” He exhales, leaning back in his chair. His expression is unreadable, his sharp features bathed in the flickering glow of the chandeliers. “I think I’ve known it for a while now.”

You say nothing.

He chuckles, but there is no humor in it. “I was naive to think we could make this work.”

A sharp pang of guilt cuts through you. “I tried—”

“I know,” he interrupts gently, eyes softening. “And I appreciate that.”

The silence stretches between you, thick with things left unsaid.

And then, after a long pause, Lando tilts his head, watching you closely. “It’s Oscar, isn’t it?”

Your breath stutters.

The way your fingers curl into your lap, the way your shoulders tense—it’s enough of an answer.

Lando nods to himself, a small, understanding smile playing at his lips. “I should’ve realized sooner.” He huffs, shaking his head. “The way you look at him…” His voice trails off, and when his gaze meets yours again, it is filled with something quiet and knowing. “You never look at me like that.”

Your throat tightens. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Lando lets out a soft chuckle. “Don’t be.”

You blink, startled. “What?”

“I won’t lie and say this doesn’t hurt.” He exhales, running a hand through his curls. “But I can’t exactly be angry, can I? If anything, I admire you for it.” His voice turns wry.

“I mean, I’d rather lose to someone worthy, and Oscar…” He smirks slightly. “I suppose he is.”

A quiet laugh escapes you, though it is weighed down by emotion.

Lando leans forward then, clasping his hands together. “So, what now?”

Your smile fades. You lower your gaze. “I don’t know,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “If my parents ever found out about us…”

Lando hums thoughtfully. Then, as if something dawns on him, his eyes sharpen. “Prince Charles is returning soon, isn’t he?”

You frown slightly. “My brother?”

He nods. “Your parents wouldn’t dare stir a scandal right before his arrival. They want to present a perfect, unified image of the royal family.” His lips curl into a smirk, though there is something serious in his gaze. “If there was ever a time to leave…”

Your heart pounds. “You would help us?”

Lando tilts his head. “What kind of man would I be if I stood in the way of true love?”

A lump forms in your throat.

You can barely believe what you’re hearing.

Lando, the man you were meant to wed, the prince who had every right to resent you for your affections lying elsewhere—was offering you a chance at freedom.

“You don’t have to do this,” you murmur.

He shrugs. “I know.” A small smile touches his lips. “But I want to.”

Tears prick at your eyes. You don’t think—you simply rise from your seat and step forward, wrapping your arms around him. Lando tenses in surprise before exhaling, returning the embrace.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Lando huffs a quiet laugh. “Just promise me one thing.”

You pull back slightly, brows furrowing. “What?”

He grins, though it is tinged with wistfulness.

“Name your firstborn after me.”

You roll your eyes, laughing despite yourself. “Absolutely not.”

His laughter follows you as you slip out of the dining hall, heart racing, feet carrying you toward the one person who has always been waiting.

Because now—now you have a chance.

A chance to escape. A chance to be together.

A chance to finally be free.

You don’t walk to the training courtyard—you run.

The moment you step out of the dining hall, your feet carry you through the castle’s dimly lit corridors, past the flickering torches and the few guards patrolling the halls. The stone beneath you is cold, but the fire burning in your chest is hotter than anything you’ve ever known.

You have to tell him.

For the first time in weeks, hope doesn’t feel like an impossible dream. It thrums beneath your skin, desperate to be shared, and there is only one person in this world you want to share it with.

The scent of damp earth and fresh grass fills the night air as you burst into the courtyard, your breath coming in quiet pants. The grounds are empty save for one lone figure near the weapons rack.

Oscar.

Your heart clenches at the sight of him.

His back is turned to you, his sword gripped tightly in his hands as he swings it in precise, practiced movements. The muscles in his arms flex with every strike, his form sharp and unyielding. Even from here, you can see the tension in his stance, the frustration in the way his blade bites into the wooden post he’s been using for target practice.

He looks exhausted.

Your stomach twists. You know the reason for it.

The sleepless nights. The constant vigilance. The way he has had to watch you spend your days with Prince Lando, forced to stand in the shadows while another man claims a role that was never meant for him.

And yet, through it all, he has stayed.

He has never once turned away from you.

You swallow past the lump in your throat and step forward.

“Oscar.”

His head snaps up instantly. He stiffens at the sound of your voice, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword. His expression, once hardened with frustration, shifts the moment his eyes meet yours.

For a brief second, something softens in his gaze.

Then, as if remembering himself, he schools his features into something unreadable. He sets his sword down with deliberate care before turning fully to face you.

“Princess.” His voice is steady. Controlled.

But you don’t care for formalities, not now. Not when your entire world is about to change.

You rush toward him, reaching for his hands before he can even think to step away. His fingers are rough against yours, calloused from years of wielding a sword, but they are warm. Comforting. Familiar.

“We have a way out,” you whisper, breathless.

Oscar goes completely still.

The tension in his body doesn’t ease—it shifts, morphing into something sharper. His fingers twitch against yours, his knuckles brushing over your skin.

“What?” His voice is rough.

You nod, hardly able to contain your emotions. “Lando—he knows.”

A flicker of something crosses Oscar’s face.

Jealousy. Hurt.

But he tamps it down so quickly that you almost miss it.

His jaw clenches. “And?”

“And… he’s helping us.”

Oscar exhales sharply, his grip on your hands tightening for a moment before he lets go, stepping back as if to process your words. He drags a hand down his face, looking away.

You see the battle within him—the relief, the gratitude, the frustration of knowing that it was another man who gave you this chance.

Most of all, you see his love for you, warring against every other emotion in his heart.

“When?” he finally asks, voice tight.

“Three nights from now,” you say. “When Charles arrives. My parents will be too preoccupied with his return. It’s the safest time.”

Oscar nods once, his gaze steady. “And the plan?”

You hesitate for only a second before saying, “I’m going to tell Charles the truth.”

Oscar’s brows knit together. “Are you certain that’s wise?”

You inhale deeply. “Charles loves me. He always has. If I tell him that I don’t wish to rule, that I’d rather live my life free of these expectations, I know he’ll take my place. He has always wanted to lead.”

A pause.

Oscar studies you carefully. “And you trust that he won’t turn us in?”

You meet his gaze without hesitation. “With my life.”

Silence stretches between you, the weight of your words settling over the both of you.

Then, after a long moment, Oscar exhales. The tension in his shoulders eases slightly, and the ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

“You’re incredible, you know that?”

A quiet laugh escapes you. “I like to think so.”

His expression softens.

And then—before you can think, before you can stop yourself—you close the distance between you.

You step forward, tilting your head up, and wrap your arms around his neck. He tenses for a heartbeat, caught off guard, but then—then his hands come to rest on your waist, firm and grounding.

Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging slightly, and he exhales against your skin.

For a moment, there is no kingdom. No titles. No consequences.

There is only this. Only him.

His arms tighten around you, holding you closer. “We’ll make it,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

You shut your eyes, pressing your forehead against his. “I know.”

The weight on your chest lightens—just a little.

You are not free yet.

But for the first time, you believe that you will be.

And that is enough.

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whimsicalpoet44 · 2 years ago

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Cycle Breaker Placements

Placements I see in charts that indicate someone is here to work through generational trauma and promote healing. These placements can be really tough, but offer a really unique perspective of the world.

They can also reap the most benefits once they work through their lessons.

Biggest indicators are 4th house, 8th house, 12th house, Scorpio, Capricorn, and Aries placements. Also big emphasis on harsh aspects related to Pluto/Mars/Moon/Saturn/Sun. But these are one that stick out to me the most.

✨Pluto in the 12th House. This placement indicates a lot of childhood trauma. When I see someone with this placement, I know they've been through it. I have instant respect for them. Most individuals with this placement don't realize their own inner power. It's hidden in their subconscious underneath years of memories where they were told that they were powerless. They are SO powerful and they don't even realize it. Especially if their Pluto is in Scorpio, but this applies to all 12th House Plutos. Once they recognize their own power, they're literally unstoppable.

✨Chiron in Gemini/3rd House. These individuals have a fear of being seen. They struggle to use their voice and speak their truth. Their path is usually the road less traveled, and it can feel isolating at times. They might have felt like their opinions never mattered in childhood and struggle with a need to be understood. Once they use their voice, they can affect powerful change to those around them.

✨Lilith in Cancer/Lilith 4th House. This placement indicates that the person will be working through generational trauma related to the mother or the maternal side of the family. Emotional needs are likely not met in childhood, which causes the person to have trouble accepting/asking help from others. But they also can't completely help themselves. Nurturing their emotions helps them unlock all the power of Lilith.

✨Saturn Conjunct Moon. Saturn and the Moon have opposing energies. The Moon is nurturing. Saturn is the disciplinarian. Often times, it can also be interpreted to represent the Mother (Moon) and the Father (Saturn). The paternal figure might've been absent or ill. The maternal figure could've been stressed and emotionally reactive. Someone with this aspect basically has to become their own parent. They're forced to learn emotional regulation, self-respect, and self-love. It teaches them that they have value and they likely break a lot of toxic cycles during self-growth.

✨Mars in a fire sign + in the 4th House. Inheriting a parent's reactive nature is likely with this placement. At least this is what I've noticed when I've interpreted charts. Fire signs are quick to act and they are sometimes viewed as impulsive. With a fire Mars in the 4th House, they'll be forced to confront their explosive anger. If not, they can repeat toxic generational cycles. Their parents were likely aggressive and threatened their safety in the home. This is a REALLY tough placement.

✨Chiron in the 5th House. Inner child wounds are prevalent here. The individual's self-expression is limited or repressed, likely due wounds from a parent or caretaker in childhood. They hide the important parts of themselves and have a really hard time being vulnerable with anyone, including themselves. Embracing creativity and accepting themselves is how they heal. In the process, they break negative generational cycles.

✨Capricorn Moon. These individuals had a lot of expectations placed on them in childhood. They might have been forced to step up in their childhood and could've been more of a parent than their actual parents, raising themselves and/or siblings. They're seen as the responsible ones, and might have faded into the background, causing their needs to go unmet. Their caretakers could've put work before play, causing these individuals to adopt the same approach. They must learn how to be vulnerable and experience joy with others.

✨Venus in Scorpio (Bonus points if it's in retrograde). Trauma related to a person's sense of self-worth is common. They might have low self-esteem or struggle to navigate relationships. There's a possibility that your caretakers relationship was volatile, leaving them to be afraid of intimacy (i.e. Divorce). There could be possessiveness or jealousy in romantic relationships as well. Even obsessiveness. Finding a way to balance these energies and re-shape how they define relationships helps. They also undergo the most transformation in romantic relationships.

✨Moon Square Mercury. Emotions were not safe to express in childhood. They might have problems making decisions, constantly warring between their mind and their heart. They could lean onto old belief systems or coping skills, even when they know it doesn't work. After a while, they'll be forced to change their approach on how they deal with their emotions. Thus, breaking toxic cycles learned in childhood.

✨Saturn in the 12th House. Wounds here could be attributed to past life trauma, but it's usually agitated in childhood. These individuals are really hard on themselves and believe they don't deserve anything good in life. There's potential for memory suppression and a tendency to disassociate. Absent paternal figures are common with this placement. When they prioritize their mental health and work towards healing, they break generational curses.

✨Aquarius Placements. These individuals are often tasked with pursuing their own path and deviating from the "norm." Therefore, they struggle with trauma in childhood. They might have been bullied for their unique interests. They could be the family outcast. Whatever it is, they take their own path. They might break familial expectations that had been adhered to for generations. Therefore, breaking the cycle.

✨Pluto in Scorpio. Generationally, this is the one. Being mostly raised by boomer parents, they pulled the rug out from underneath their parents, calling out toxicity. They likely trigger their parents without even trying. They hold up a mirror, highlighting what their parents could've been if they had broken the cycle.

✨Sagittarius Mercury. They can't help it. They word vomit their observations. A lot of the times, it could be done with innocent intention. However, being catalysts for chaos, they open boxes that their families have tried desperately to keep shut. They are brutally honest and care fiercely about discovering the truth. Sometimes, they intentionally cause chaos for change. Letting little bits of information or truth slip, they can have their family in uproar and questioning their entire existence. They're the voice of truth. And their family can't escape it. And they might hate them for it. But they just can't help it. It comes out of their mouth before they have the chance to think about it. (12th House Sag Mercury individuals might have a different presentation/experience of this placement).

✨Pisces Moon/Rising. These individuals can have challenging relationships with their mothers or maternal figures. They typically lack boundaries and experience pretty intense people pleasing behaviors. They're also very different from the rest of their family, usually. They'll be put in situations by the universe to craft their own identity and stand up for themselves. They can be the first to educate themselves on boundaries and actually implement them.

✨8th House Suns. They are often used by the universe for change and upheaval. 8th House Suns don't always have to do something for this to happen. Their very existence can be triggering to others. This is because they are usually showcasing their best qualities by simply being themselves. This causes others to feel insecure, because they begin to recognize the qualities they lack inside of themselves. So, 8th House Suns end up becoming the family scapegoat. If you're an 8th house Sun, just remember that it isn't you. It's someone projecting their own problems onto you. There's power there if you know how to use it.

✨Neptune/Uranus in the 1st House. These individuals often have an air of mystery surrounding them. No one can really figure them out. So they end up having others project their assumptions about their character onto them. This is another placement where their very existence is troubling to others. Because they become a sounding board for others' insecurities.

I'll do more of these later and make this a series!

#astrology observations #astro observations #astrology #generational trauma #generational healing #cycle breaker #12th house #8th house #scorpio

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ginger-goblin · 3 years ago

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Spellbound | Eddie Munson

[also on wattpad @TheHotWeasley]

Track One: Bad Reputation

Description: A pagan goth chick raised by hippies arrives in Hawkins, AKA Jason’s literal worst nightmare. Shortly before the events of season 4, Eddie Munson takes a liking to her in the cafeteria. Freaks to Enemies to Lovers ;)

Warnings: Strong language

"ℑ 𝔡𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔞 𝔡𝔞𝔪𝔫 '𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫" - 𝔅𝔞𝔡 ℜ𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫, 𝔍𝔬𝔞𝔫 𝔍𝔢𝔱𝔱 & 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰

I am not going to bore you by telling you how my morning went, how I did my hair this morning, or who I was before I moved to Hawkins. It has suddenly become obsolete trying to remember my life before those mischievous eyes met mine. As my headphones were so rudely snatched from my head, pulling out hairs in the process, I met the gaze of an older looking boy who resembled a wanna be Van Halen member. Lanky, shaggy haired, and riddled with mischief. His heavily ringed fingers toyed with the headphone chords.

"If you do not give those back to me within five seconds I will bite your thumbs clean off." I challenged, staring daggers into this idiot. I will not deal with people stealing my shit, especially on my first day in Hawkins. The boy raised an eyebrow and gave me a sarcastic smile.

"Ah, so you're going for the charming girl next door approach! And I thought you'd try to put a curse on me, little Siouxsie Sioux."

His smile sent shivers down my spine. Of course he knows who Siouxsie Sioux is. Yes, I have tried to look just like her. Teased black hair, eyeliner, platform boots, the whole thing. I watched the boy as he eyed me up and down, as if admiring every inch of my aura. Gross. However, it's honestly an instant turn on if I can find anyone with good music taste. Let alone someone in a small midwestern town. I looked closer at his denim vest, and felt my heart pound at the sight of the pins. He's a fucking metalhead. I look back up to find the boy actually putting my headphones on his stupid fluffy-haired head. I felt my face flush in anger. I can't trust this guy at all, he could throw it on the ground and smash it, or break my headphones... I started to walk closer to him.

"I'm not kidding. Bit. clean. off. Like baby carrots." I chomped my teeth at him and he raised his eyebrows.

"You don't even need to try and flirt with me sweetheart, that's my job."

"I just threatened to mutilate your thumbs, how is that considered flirting?"

I watched his eyes widen as he recognized the song on my Walkman. As he turned to meet my gaze, he smirked at me. It made my stupid heart flutter.

"Iron Maiden? You... are my musical soulmate. What's your name, fair maiden?" He mused.

"My headphones. Now." I demanded.

"That's a funky name you got there." He chuckled, waiting for me to respond. I didn't.

"For the record, I'm Eddie. Eddie Munson." The smirk on his lips never seemed to cease. I said nothing in return, merely raising an eyebrow and praying to god I don't have to beg to him. Although, maybe in another world, I would totally throw everything away for Eddie.

"As you wish, sweetheart." He did a dramatic bow, then rose, and tossed me my headphones. I gasped, and scrambled for them, then snatched them in the air. I heaved.

"HEY!" I yelped, breath catching in my throat. I'm more dependent on my Walkman than I am on my own parents. I'm not letting this douche break anything.

"I'm a little disappointed I never got bit..." Eddie mused, grinning wildly at me. I wanted nothing more than to punch him. I smirked, and stepped closer to him. I could see Eddie get a bit flustered. The air between us felt magnetic, like I could just pounce on him right there. He smelled like cigarettes and clove. I felt my face flush a bit. I reached towards his chest slowly, and saw him swallow hard. I ripped a pin off his vest, slightly tearing it.

"Hey, what the hell?" Eddie snapped.

"That's for all your stupid comments." I mocked. I ripped the second pin off.

"That's for being an asshole."

I grabbed the third pin, and his hand caught mine before I could rip it. He shook his finger in my face.

"Ah, ah, ah... that, sweetheart, is-"

Before he could flirt with me again, I moved quickly to bite down on his hand. He screeched and cowered away, looking perplexed, yet curious. The air was now empty. Some faces began to turn towards us, startled.

"Don't call me sweetheart." I stated, throwing all my shit in my tote bag. I didn't dare look back at him. I stomped across the lunchroom receiving my fair share of gawking and gasping. I was thankful no one tried to trip me this time.

"I didn't catch your name!" Eddie shouted.

I cringed, as now the entire student body of Hawkins high was surely watching me, and I slowly turned around to see him, Eddie, arms wide open, as if begging to hear something so simple. So, I shouted back,

"I didn't throw it, freak."

I saw Eddie's eyes darken, as if my words were not as playful as I meant. Obviously I was being sarcastic, clearly-

"Look who's talking!" Yelled someone from a table near me. It was a stupid fucking jock in a letterman jacket, and on top of his head was a stupid fucking-

"Fuck off, SnapBack!" I jeered. The jock pretended to be offended, and all of his friends were making ridiculous noise. One of them stood up quickly, and stared me down. He looked like a member of New Kids on the Block, but royally pissed off.

"You really feel like you can curse at people about what they're wearing when you look like a sadist psychopath?" He interrupted.

"I'll show you a curse, asshole." I laughed, sticking my tongue out and making devil horns at him. I looked back to Eddie to see his reaction, only to find him violently staring down the guy who was now striding towards me and-

"Holy shit..." I gasped, completely frozen. This jock guy was now standing so close to me I could feel his rage.

"Is that a threat, psycho?" He taunted.

"Step back, douchebag." I objected, raising my hands to push him away but he immediately stopped me by bellowing,

"ARE YOU THREATENING ME?"

A shrill voice followed by stomping sneakers came between us before I could pull my knife on him, thank god.

"SEPARATE AND DEESCALATE! TAKE DEEP BREATHS!" screeched the school lunch lady. She grabbed me and jock man by our necks, and we both winced. She sure had a strong grip.

The lunch lady lovingly shoved us through the halls towards the principals office, where I knew I would be absolutely fucked. I turned to the wonderful bully as he stared daggers through me and threatened,

"If you say anything, you're dead, got it?"

I stared right back at him and grumbled,

"Ditto."

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #joseph quinn #stranger things imagines #stranger things smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #jason carver #goth #iron maiden #most metal ever #stranger things season 4

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pocketramblr · 3 years ago

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5+ ask game: Can I please get an AU where All Might adopts Izuku when he is 14?

Hmm, hmm, many ways to do this...

1- You've heard of marriage of convenience? Ok it's time for adoption of convenience. After being told by Nighteye he's going to die, Toshi starts figuring out what he's going to do with all his stuff, who he leaves it to. Problem. He has no surviving family. He technically got married to David for a brief time after forgetting to apply for some paperwork in college, but they long since divorced so David could get really married later, and honestly Toshi isn't even sure how i-Island and international law will work. Then there's the fact that the laws about hero agency inheritance are very complicated. It's supposed to go go a hero family member or a sidekick, or a commission approved hero. Otherwise, the commission takes it and the assets. Toshi could get it approved for Sir to take, but he bitterly doesn't want to. He looks for a while for a new sidekick or hero, but no one is right. He could retire and sell it himself, then leave the money where he wants- but that means retiring and he knows he won't do it, he'll go out on the field like Sir foresaw. Toshi doesn't trust the commission to put the money where he wants it- charity for the people, for upcoming heroes, for families of victims he didn't save. He'll need a family member then. One he can trust to do this.

2- wait does he pull like,,, a stealth Willy Wonka?? Oh he totally could. Ok he keeps inviting tours of kids to the tower, watching as Yagi, and going to visit hospitals and schools as All Might, trying to figure out who would be right. Eventually, one boy catches his eye. Green hair, freckles, and adorably enthusiastic at the Tower- but then he catches students bullying him for his eagerness outside the lunchroom, threatening to lock him in the bathroom and leave him behind when they return to school if he stops being so annoying and hogging the tour guide with his questions, what does he think he matters, useless, quirkless?

Toshi steps in, saving the boy, and mentally adding quirkless resources to list of where his money needs to go when he dies.

3- he keeps fretting about the boy though, and visits the school as All Might. He listens, and hears that Midoriya lives in a group home, those kinds of kids always causing trouble. He keeps investigating, heart slowly breaking, and decides he has to adopt this kid.

4- Izuku's bewildered when a social worker shows up to take him from the home, announcing someone wants to adopt him. He just turned fourteen, it's been a year since he knew adoption was impossible (even though it was impossible much longer for him.) The social worker has the conscious to advice him that if it's sketchy, if this is some kind of trafficking, to run instead of sticking around and hope and get himself killed- because the police aren't likely to help but he's smart enough to make it on his own in case of emergency. Izuku thinks there's got to be a catch, and waits nervously.

5- and then Izuku meets All Might, who admits there is a catch- he's dying, and he needs someone he can trust to use his agency and money wisely when he's gone so he can still help people. Izuku cries grieving at the idea of his hero dying, then cries for being trusted for this, for this opportunity to help people, to be trusted, depended on. And a little bit, he cries because he knows he won't actually be getting a parent or family out of this, just like a buisness deal. Because he shouldn't want even more, when he's this lucky, this blessed, but a small part of him hoped when he heard the word adoption that it would be legit.

+1- BUT of course it becomes legit. They get closer over months, izuku eager to make sure he knows exactly what Toshi wants, clear on all the plans, and Toshi helping him in return with studying, learning he wants to be a hero- and then thinking there really isn't anyone more perfect for OfA than this boy. Izuku's fifteen when Toshi quietly asks him if he would want to inherit one more thing from him, if it wasn't too much a burden. He doesn't have to, he can be a hero on his own, he can live a normal life, he can do whatever he wants with the money and agency and quirk- but if he chooses, he can have OfA too. Izuku accepts, and they start training psychically too.

#huh wonder how izuku knowing so fast in advance about the predicted death will change things #but maybe deep down he still thinks Toshi will survive and then surprise! he does! for him!#gentrychild #pocket talks to people #ask game #i have so many of these left I'm sorry I'm trying dhfjhjn #long answer #kwwbn au

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foreversecrets · 2 years ago

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Disgruntled Drysdales

Rogers Family Expansion

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Victoria (OC)

Summary: Things were going great, he was preparing to say the "L' word, so naturally it was time for everything to go to shit.

Though they’d gotten off to a hesitant start, once they started cohabitating Ransom and Tori found themselves comfortable with one another. About six months in he was nearly ready to use the ‘L’ word. IT surprised him how easy it was to be a husband, especially when he didn’t work and his wife willingly took on the breadwinner role. Not that he was cooking or cleaning around the house like a proper house husband, he hired people to handle those responsibilities, but he made an effort to always be home before her so he could welcome her home and assist in her decompressing from work as well as kissing her goodbye every morning. It inadvertently made him live a healthier life, he wasn’t staying out all night getting drunk or stoned, his schedule was pretty lax but improvement nonetheless. He woke up to his wife off for the day with a kiss and a cup of coffee, breakfast at one of his many siblings homes, spend a few hours at the gym, lunch with his shitty mother and step or other members of the Thrombey Family, and then head home to be with Tori. That was another massive change for him, he genuinely cared about Tori’s well being and happiness which was reciprocated without requirements or terms. Tori's harsh exterior could melt away and become relaxed, even playful when it was just the two of them. He’d never admit it to his siblings but he was grateful to his family for forcing him into this arrangement.

Victoria found herself in similar musings, she’d loved her life before but there was something about knowing someone who cared for you at home waiting for you to unload day and unwind together. It didn’t matter the capacity, it could be chilling and watching television together or fucking the day away. It has surprised her to learn Ransom’s mommy issue had manifested as a kink, where this grumpy man turned into a bottom in the bedroom, something Victoria adapted to once she cleared the air about not wanting to actually become a mother. His relief and willingness to ensure they didn’t have kids but could play in the bedroom however they decided. It was the final nail in Tori’s coffin, she could no longer state she didn’t love her husband.

A year into marriage that happiness was threatened when Tori went to see the doctor. She had had a cold her doctor prescribed antibiotics for but a month later she was starting to feel sick again and was concerned something more serious might be wrong with her. As a concerned husband, Ransom accompanied her to the appointment where the doctor ordered some tests to be run.

“Good news, you aren't sick but you are pregnant,” the doctor's smile immediately dropped at the expecting parents' reactions. Ransom’s face reddened, his whole body tense while Tori was completely frozen, like she wasn’t present in the moment.

“I’m on birth control and we always use protection.”

“Birth control isn’t always 100%, it was probably negated by the antibiotics you were previously on. As for condoms: they break, they expire, they can be faulty, or applied correctly.”

“Ransom?” Tori looked up to her husband, fighting back angry tears that wanted to fall. But instead of receiving the supportive husband she needed, she was faced with the cold version of Hugh Drysdale, the man who was normally reversed for visits to his mothers family.

“What are our options?” There was no emotion in his voice as he put space between himself and Tori, like her condition was contagious and he’d catch it if he stood too close.

“Um … there’s-”

“Thank you for your assistance. I will be keeping my child.” Tori snapped, gathering her clothes, escaping from the examination room.

She found sanctuary in the restroom where she practically ripped the paper examine gown off, tossed it to the floor and collapsed on top of it finally letting her tears fall. Looking down at her flat stomach and crying even harder. How was this fair? Annie was actually trying to have a kid and it kept resulting in miscarriages not to mention the difficulties getting pregnant in the first place and here she was accidentally pregnant not knowing what to do. She knew what Ransom wanted, what they both had agreed on but that was no longer an option. Their family of two would never be that again, regardless of the decisions that followed. If she aborted or put the kid up for adoption she’d never have peace again she would be consumed with the what ifs and pain of terminating the pregnancy or full of concern over the child's life once she signed away her rights. She’d had students who made those choices and the mental turmoil they endured for months after the fact was ever prevalent in her mind, so no, she wouldn’t choose either of those options. They’d fucked up and now she would endure the consequences either with her husband or alone. Raising the kid herself she knew she had the financial means to provide for the kid and they would be given every opportunity to succeed.

Did she want to have a baby? No. Did she want to give it away? No. Did she want to terminate the pregnancy? No.

“Babe, open the door.” Ransom’s angry voice came through the door, snapping her out of her self pity. “We need to talk about this!”

No, she wasn’t ready to talk. She got dressed, washed her tear streaked face and exited the bathroom where Ransom was waiting for her. He opened his mouth to speak but she put her hand up to stop him. “Dont. I don’t want to talk about this right now. I’m still processing and your anger isn’t helping.”

“Of course I’m-”

She couldn’t handle him right now, she walked past him pulling out her phone and ordering an uber, Ransom trailed behind her. She’d handled him mad before, that was him anytime he was around his mother but right now she was vulnerable and full of her own self hate. She kissed his cheek throwing him off guard long enough for her to get into the uber and drive off.

She went to Juliana; she'd become close to the other mafia born wife of the Rogers since she herself joined the family given their commonalities in upbringing. Though the two of them were close but Jewls was unpredictable. She needed to talk to someone about the pregnancy that was objective, granted she didn’t know how Jewls would react but she was her best bet. None of the siblings had kids yet, with the exception of Frank and Daphne who were raising Mary so she could have theoretically gone to anyone but Annie and Steve. But she choose Jewls because of their connection and Ransom’s fear of the psycho woman who he was convince would one day murder him.

Jewls wasn’t expecting company but as always she welcomed Tori in with open arms, the two getting comfortable on the couch with a bottle of wine. The refusal of a wine glass sent Tori into a spiral as she confessed everything to her friend.

“You are the one who has to live with whatever decision is made and if Ransom fights you on it let me know.” Jewls put her hands together and wiggled her fingers. “Lloyd bought me a sexy new sniper, I’d be happy to give it a trail run on your husband.”

“You’re not killing my brother.” Lloyd signed entering the room with a bag of peanuts. He dropped a kiss to his wife's forehead and plopped down in the arm chair. “He occasionally deserves your ire but he is family.”

“Baby,” Jewls purred, an evil flint in her eyes. “How would you react if I said I was pregnant?”

Lloyd choked on the peanut he tossed in the air to catch with his mouth, Jewls bursting into laughter while Lloyd coughed and tried to dislodge the small nut from his esophagus. “I thought we agreed to wait, Princess?” Recovering from choking he didn’t give a shit about Tori seeing the softer side of himself he reversed solely for his wife.

“Relax, I’m not but your asshole brother blew up. You at least tried to be composed, whereas Ransom nearly demanded an abortion on the spot without even considering Tori.”

Relieved he wasn’t the problem he relaxed back into his chair as his wife had instructed. “Congrats?” he asked Tori. “Are we happy or not?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed, pressing on her temples to try and ease the stress headache that had formed.

“Well would you be okay killing it?” Lloyd asked simply, Tori shook her head. “What about having someone else raise it?” another head shake. “Well there you go mommy/”

“Gross, don’t call me that!” Tori groaned, finally laughing. “Only Ransom calls me that.”

It was Lloyd’s turn to cringe in disgust, “Great now I have to put a bullet in my head.”

“You set yourself up for that,” Jewls laughed. “You can stay here if you’d like tonight.”

“Thanks but I should go home and talk to Ransom, but I will probably be back.”

The Drysdale’s had had minor disagreements and spate throughout their marriage but never as bad as they fight that ensured that night when Tori returned home. She confided that she wasn’t happy about the situation but now that she was pregnant she was going to raise this child with or without him. Ransom’s choice taken from him without regard for his thoughts or arguments was reminiscent of how his family had treated him only enraging him further. It's like he could just not be involved, by the contact of their marriage they were required to reside together 8 months out of the year. And he was always home so that put the majority of the responsibilities on his shoulder. A point he mentioned that she wanted him to fulfill but his opposition had her countering with hiring a nanny.

That night Ransom slept on the couch, unable to reason or resolve things with his wife. Several weeks he spent sleeping on that couch he’d previously loved but now despised before they moved into a two bedroom place and Tori started sleeping on an air mattress in what would be the nursery, leaving their bed for him. His hard demeanor nearly cracked at the nonverbal act of care for his well being, even while their marriage was on the rocks. Then her baby bump began to show and his frustration was reinvigorated, his stubbornness winning out.

He found himself falling back into old habits of drugs and alcohol but try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to revert into his manwhore ways. The thought of him sleeping with someone who wasn’t his wife was unappealing which left him unable to perform even while indulging in porn. Which was probably for the best, if their current estrangement could be overcome cheating would have ultimately been the straw to fully break their marriage.

Throughout Tori’s pregnancy his brothers and their partners were the ones to support and care for Tori, even trying to reason with Ransom but he was unphased.

It was during the third trimester he decided he didn’t want to lose Tori, he still wasn’t sure how to handle the baby situation but he decided to take things one step at a time. To get back into his wife's food graces he had Curtis assist him in preparing the nursery and building all the furniture Tori had ordered. In doing so, Ransom discovered he was having twin daughters. For the first time in his life, Ransom pushed past his anger and continued the task listening to his older brother for how Tori had wanted the nursery painted. Apparently the twins would be identical so in an effort to not confuse the two Tori had a set color scheme: baby 1 would be pink and green while baby 2 would be purple and yellow. Combinations he wouldn’t have personally chosen but then he saw the linens of soft yellows with lavender and then bubble gum pink with blue-green linens and found it worked.

The happiness on his huge wifes face as she waddled toward him and threw her arms around him have been the reward for his efforts. The night they resumed sleeping in their bed together, things weren’t as tense, their relationship was being repaired but Tori was mindful of his continued hesitance and tried to avoid discussing the topics. Ransom tried to be better, not able to stomach the idea of losing her. He would check in with her, rub her back, and assist her in shaving as she’d grown too big to do so herself.

It wasn’t until Tori finally gave birth and Ransom was holding one of his two daughters while Tori breastfed the other that a switch flipped within him. He suddenly found himself fully devoted to Sophia and Penelope Drysdale, the surge of bliss that filled his heart as he held his daughter brought tears to his eyes. Holding his daughter to his bare chest as Tori’s audio book had advised he felt the bond forming that it had said would, he knew he’d protect them even over his wife and himself. All it took was one look and one touch and he was at the mercy of the two girls who couldn’t even feed themselves. He was ready and willing to be the stay-at-home dad that Tori had initially wanted but now he was ready to be all in. So much that Tori couldn’t help smirking when Ransom had to hand Sophie over to be fed and instantly started pouting.

“All those months of animosity and all I had to do was put a baby in your hands.” Tori said softly as she positioned Sophie to feed and Ransom got Penny comfortable in his arms.

“No, I think it would have made things worse but these girls ….” he trailed off.

“They have your beautiful blues.”

“I think they are going to take after you though.”

Penny fell asleep easily in his arms, he was content to hold her there but when Sophie fell asleep and he registered the exhaustion on his wifes face he resigned himself to tucking both babies into the bassinets.

Tori gave him a goofy smile, eyes closed. “Ran?” her voice only contributes to her tired state. “I love you.”

It was the first time either had said those words and he wasn’t even sure she was fully awake, he didn’t want to diminish the moment so he simply kissed her forehead with a personal vow to tell her first thing when she woke up. Adding on that none of his girls would ever go to bed again without hearing those words, nor would they ever be separated without knowing how much they were cared for.

Ransom was reformed. He was a dad now and nothing had ever been so appealing as taking on the responsibility of raising and showing his daughter how loved they were so they would never have the family discord he had with his own mother.

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little-spoiled-brat · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I how're you? I hope you're doing well. I have a request -feel free to ignore it if it's weird- what if levi was into an arranged/forced marriage for a while to another ackerman lady to keep the bloodline going! she always gave him his space cause she knew he didn't like her much. he ignored her for the biggest part until he started noticing how he would miss seeing her if he stayed away from home for too long so levi starts doing acts of services for her (like making her tea) cause he doesn't know how to express his love, but eventually he confesses and so does she.

pairing: levi x reader

cw: consanguineous love, forced relationship, enemies to lovers

- ackerman bloodline -

you were mikasa's older sister, your mom and dad’s first born and like usual, the first borns always had it more difficult than the younger siblings that followed.

you were in your early twenties when your dad introduced you to your second cousin, levi. it was all fun and games until they announced that the both of you were in an arranged marriage in order to keep the coveted ackerman bloodline going.

you absolutely hated it and you vaguely remember crying in mikasa’s room almost every night because of that very reason.

“stop crying” mikasa pouted, her being six at the time, she didn’t quite understood what you were going through completely. you smiled at her, wiping away the tears from your cheeks.

“i’m okay, mikasa“ you assured as she crawled into your lap and pulled you into a hug. you hugged her back tightly, silent tears falling down your cheeks.

you tried and tried and tried to stop the relationship that was forced onto you but your parents’ minds were made up and so was levi’s uncle.

here you are now, a member of the scout regiment after mikasa, eren and armin followed your footsteps when you joined a couple of years before them.

you ignored each other for the most part, staying away and giving each other space as you knew that he also hated you as much as you did. sucks for him, he didn’t have a choice either.

at this point, mikasa understood the situation between you and her captain — you would’ve had her in your squad but since her batch arrived later than yours did, levi took them for himself.

mikasa often talked to you that you should just give levi a chance and though you did considered giving him a chance, you weren’t sure if he would consider the same.

“you should try. he’s your cousin after all” mikasa said as you glanced at her. “correction, he’s your cousin too”

”whatever. the point is, you’ve been in this forced relationship for almost a decade now and he's your comrade, you can't put your personal feelings into this and ignore him on the battle field so you might as well make it work" mikasa said bluntly as you glared at her — she was right.

with a sigh, you nodded and let her words sink into you. maybe you will try. just maybe.

however, you were a bit taken back when levi suddenly brought you tea when you came back from a trip with erwin and hange.

you came back to your office after the trip to do some more paperworks when levi knocked on your door and walked in with a cup of tea.

"figured you might be tired from the trip. two sugars, mikasa told me you like it made like that" levi simply said, putting the cup down on your desk and leaving again. he didn't give you any time to react as the door to your office was closed, you stared at the cup in front of you. surely, someone drugged him, right?

nevertheless, you finished the tea levi had brought and actually enjoyed the bittersweet taste of the liquid on your tongue. it was almost weird that he brought you tea but it was more weird how he considered putting in the sugars because he was told you liked it.

he made it clear that he hated you so why now?

making a mental note to return the favor to your forced-to-be boyfriend, you finished the remaining paperworks on your desk.

days passed and the both of you found yourself bringing each other tea at random points of the day. it was weird but you believed that you were actually starting to fall for levi.

a knock at your door stopped you from scribbling on the paper on your desk. you looked up and said a crisp 'come in' as the door opened to reveal levi with your usual afternoon tea.

"i brought us tea" levi chimed and you swore, you saw a small smile pull at the corner of his lips for a split second. you pushed away some papers from your desk for him to set the tray down. "two sugars, just how you like it"

you took your cup as he sat down on the chair in front of your desk, taking a sip of the hot contents of the porcelain cup. you hummed in satisfaction, taking a sip of your tea before setting it down on your desk again.

"thank you, levi" you said just like every time he brought you tea. he nodded in acknowledgement, putting the cup down.

"before i forget, i'm going to be going to the capital with erwin and hange tomorrow so look after mikasa for me, okay?" you said as levi's face fell for a second but composed himself.

"tch. erwin never gives you a break, does he?" levi grumbled as you sighed and shook your head. you took another sip of your tea.

"be safe, brat. i-i don't want to see a single scratch on you when you come back" levi said as your eyes widened a fraction, you turned to him. you were quiet for a second but mumbled a small 'okay' as he nodded without making eye contact with you before standing up and heading back to his office to finish his paperworks too.

staying true to your word, you came back after the trip with no scratches like levi said. you walked up the stairs, intending to find mikasa and tell her that you're back only to be met by levi practically sprinting out of his office.

"you're back!" levi exclaimed, suddenly pulling you into his arms as you stood frozen. this was the first time he hugged you ever since you two got forced together and it actually felt, nice and comforting.

you were about to fold your arms around him when he pulled away, clearing his throat after realizing what he did.

"i-i uh, mikasa is with jaeger and arlert" levi stuttered, a blush tinting his cheeks as he avoided your gaze. he stepped beside you, intending on walking away after your rather new interaction but you stopped him.

you pulled him back into a hug, holding him close. truth be told, you actually quite enjoyed being in his arms. now it was levi's turn to freeze but quickly got over his initial shock and folded his arms around you.

you found yourself nuzzling your head into his chest, savoring the faint smell of black tea and lavender that you slowly grew to love. that you slowly began to recognize as the smell of home, safety and protection.

it was at that moment that you had realized that you had in fact, fallen for levi ackerman.

you pulled away from the hug, keeping eye contact with him as the both of you slowly started to lean in. both of your eyes closed and the connecting of your lips followed shortly after.

you attempted to pull away for air but levi cradled the back of your head to keep you from pulling away. it was intoxicating, the feeling of his lips on yours made you crave for more.

your arms snaked around his waist, pulling him closer to you as the both of you kissed each other passionately in the middle of the hallway.

"i'm going to pretend i didn't see that" mikasa suddenly said as the both of you jumped away from each other, deep red blushes tinting your cheeks.

"not a word, mikasa or i will make you run laps" you threatened as she simply shrugged her shoulders.

"you know you can't do that, you're not my direct superior. only the person you were kissing can order me to run laps" mikasa retorted, emphasizing the word 'kissing' as you glared at her, the blush on your cheeks deepening even more.

"mikasa" levi warned as mikasa smiled smugly at him. "sorry for interrupting, captain. i'm gonna go find eren"

and just like that, your sister walked the other direction to find eren. you sighed deeply, turning to face levi again.

"do you- do you mind if i k-kiss you again?" levi asked shyly as you smiled, grabbing his wrist and pulling him into his office nearby. you closed the door and cupped his face before crashing your lips on his again.

"i think i-i'm in love with you" levi said, pulling away from the kiss as you smiled. and truth be told, "i think i'm in love with you too"

following the simple confessions of your feelings towards each other, levi connected your lips once again in another passionate kiss.

never in your life did you expect that getting forced into a relationship would become the best life decision someone has ever made for you.

#levi fluff #levi ackerman x reader #levi x y/n #levi x reader #levi ackerman #aot #aot x y/n #attack on titan #aot x reader #snk fluff #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk x reader #snk x y/n

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

calculated, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Some people would call you far too serious. Some would call you stuck-up. And some would call you a bitch. But to freshman Jeon Jungkook, you’re the head Calculus I TA noona – and he’s determined to fuck you.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, semi-public sex, pussy spanking, fingering, m-receiving oral, doggy, dirty talk); non-idol!AU - university!AU; dom!Jungkook x sub!noona!reader, ft instigator Jimin lol

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

"I think Jungkook likes you."

The lead of your mechanical pencil snapped suddenly. Stupid soft graphite. You glared at it, annoyed, and brushed the broken piece away to complete the equation.

"Who?"

"I think he's taking the afternoon class."

You double-checked the last question and handed him his homework back. "Jimin, you used the wrong equation, here and here."

Park Jimin frowned, face falling when he saw all your corrections. Being one of your parents' friends' kids, your parents and his parents naturally asked you to help him out when he entered the same university as you. You pretty much figured the likelihood of Jimin speaking to you was zero, since he was a dance major and you were a graphics design major. You shrugged and agreed.

Except you forgot you were also the head Calculus I TA and Calculus I was a required course for all students. And, turns out, Jimin wasn't that great at math. That's why you were sitting on cushions at your coffee table in your apartment with Park Jimin, watching a music program as you checked his homework.

"Oh."

Jimin began to look over your arrows and circles. You never actually gave him the answer. He usually ended up forgetting a step in the middle and thus fucked the answer. Usually he caught on easily once you pointed it out.

You stared at the television screen, listening to the latest hit. Not bad. Catchy.

"I think I should tell you because he's kind of reckless," Jimin was saying.

You placed a hand under your head and took a sip of your tea, distracted by the cute MC with the blue hair. He had a cute smile. It reminded you of a bunny.

"Who?"

"Jeon Jungkook," Jimin snapped impatiently.

You raised an eyebrow and faced Jimin. "Oi. I'm correcting your homework here. I could just correct it tomorrow and hand it back to you with red marks instead," you threatened.

He pouted at you, his full lower lip sticking out. "Sorry, noona."

You sighed. "Don't call me that. Makes me feel ancient." You turned your body so you faced him as he scowled at his homework. "Okay, okay, I'm listening now. What did you want to say?"

Jimin put his pencil down immediately and began to chat like an excited gossiping auntie. Round brown eyes getting rounder, glad for a break from his math homework. You didn't want to get him started, but he was going to nag you incessantly until you let him talk.

"I think he sits in the back?" Jimin pondered. "Dark longish hair, wears a lot of black. Looks scary when he's thinking because his eyes go really wide and he furrows his brows."

You twisted your mouth to the side and thought. You only attended the class when they had quizzes or exams because during lectures the professor didn't need your help. Mostly you remembered people by their personal scores or their handwriting, because you graded everything as the head TA. Looking at people's faces wasn't really necessary, unless you were looking for cheating.

"Can't recall. I remember his handwriting though. Not bad," you said, shrugging. "I think he's pretty highly ranked at the moment."

"I think he likes you."

You scoffed. "How did you come to that consensus?"

Jimin tapped his temple sagely. "Intuition."

"If only you used that intuition on Calculus."

He frowned at you, pouting again. You let out a puff of air, conceding.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

Jimin scratched the back of his head. "Well, er... I'm just warning you."

"... Is he a serial killer or something?"

"No, no, no!" Jimin waved his hands on the air hurriedly. "He's really nice. But he can be kind of, uh... forward."

"How old is he?" you asked, glancing at the television for a moment as you took another long sip of your tea.

"Two years younger than me."

You choked.

"What?" you squeaked between coughs. Jimin hurried over and patted your back as you struggled, becoming pink in the face. "The fuck? Tell him to find someone his own age."

"I did!" Jimin whined. "But he's stubborn."

You rolled your eyes. "You're warning me that I have to break a poor freshman's heart?"

"Kind of."

You rubbed your throat. "Hmph. Darn whippersnappers these days."

Jimin smacked your arm, laughing. "I thought you weren't ancient?"

"I am now knowing some kid is fantasizing about their fucking Calculus TA."

You had said your comment sarcastically. You fully expected Jimin to make some joke, but he froze up a little. You looked over to him. He looked somewhat guilty, like a lost puppy who got caught stealing food. You sighed and patted his back.

"Don't worry, I won't chew your friend's heart out. Finish your homework, so I don't drop you off too late. You have practice in the morning, yeah?"

"Y-yeah, thanks."

Forward, huh?

An understatement.

You were sitting in one of the math department offices, laptop open, your drawing tablet in your lap, thinking. The conversation with Jimin happened about two days ago. In that time, you hadn't attended either morning or afternoon class yet, since it was only lectures. Not that it mattered, because lecture halls were massive. If this Jungkook kid sat in the back, then you probably wouldn't be able to see him anyway. At the moment, however, you were preoccupied with your assignment, to design a logo. Logo designing was difficult, especially since a school assignment didn't exactly have a real client attached to it to ask questions.

Technically these were Calculus I office hours, but who attended office hours? Nobody.

Who attended any type of calculus office hours?

Yeah, exactly.

You spent the time doing homework with the door open. You were the only TA that actually showed up for the office hours. Every other TA said it was a waste of time. It was. You still came through; in the off chance some poor kid decided her grade mattered. You felt bad since the actual professor wasn't very patient when people needed extra help. Also, technically you were the head TA, so you did have a bit more responsibility than the others.

Your black boots were perched on the desk as you sat back in your office chair, sketching a few ideas. If a member of the math department saw you, you would probably get in trouble. Thankfully, the math department was usually deserted. Math wasn't exactly the most social subject.

You took a sip of your tea from your thermos, tapping your tablet pen on your black jean-covered thigh.

"You look even better close-up, noona."

A clear, silvery, male voice cut through the silence. The voice came from the doorframe right in front of the desk. You frowned, slowly lifting your head from your tablet. How had you not heard him? Were you really that focused on your assignment?

Chucky black sneakers. Black cargo pants, slim fit. Distressed black sweater, hands casually in his pockets. Broad shoulders. Lightly tanned skin. Sharp jawline. A tiny mole under a mischievous smile. Your eyes narrowed as you made eye contact with those sparkling dark brown orbs. Long hair slicked back, with only a few wispy strands on his forehead.

"Calculus I question?" was your response.

His smile quirked a little higher. The young man didn't have a backpack with him. Didn't even have a piece of paper stuck under his arm. Wasn't even trying to pretend that he needed help.

"I have questions."

He didn't elaborate. You lowered your legs, placing your tablet on your laptop.

"This is Calculus I office hours. For calculus questions only."

His eyes flickered to your laptop and tablet. Back to you.

"Is this what the TAs should be doing during office hours?"

Suddenly, you could feel your pulse in your ears. Point taken.

"What do you want?"

He slid into the chair across from the desk, hands still in his pockets. Watching you carefully, still smiling thoughtfully. It should have been unnerving, but there was no malice in that smile. Maybe you were imagining it though, so you kept your guard up.

"I'm Jeon Jungkook."

Yeah, I guessed, you thought wryly. "And my name is on the syllabus. What do you want?"

He tilted his head at you, studying your face.

"How do you know Jimin-ssi?"

Isn't Jimin older than you, punk? "Our parents are friends."

He nodded slowly. He looked around the windowless office, at the three papers tacked to the wall – outdated notices – to the still open door, to the desk with your laptop, tablet, and backpack. Then to you, sitting back in the black office chair, eyebrow raised, hands half-in the sleeves of your gray flannel, cropped black sweater underneath.

"I think you're beautiful, noona."

Your brain winced at the compliment and your hormones looked up from the abyss. Your brain scolded them to go back to their hidey-hole. You clicked your tongue.

"I'm too old for you."

There was an ever-so-slight tick of his head. His eyes shifted downward and then flicked back up to you, almost shyly, if it wasn't for the small smirk dancing on his lips.

"We both know such a mindset is outdated."

You felt your breath catch in your throat. The fuck? Your hormones peeked out again. Your brain was too distracted with trying to find a comeback to tell them to fuck off. You figured you better cut this off right now before it went too far.

"This whole conversation is inappropriate," you said evenly, standing up from the chair and rolling it back. You walked around the desk and stood in front of it, balancing your ass against it. You crossed your arms over your breasts. "You should leave."

He slowly, slowly gazed up at you. Why did he look so satisfied? Your heart did a little three beat skip. Stop it. Keep it together. Jungkook got to his feet, hands still in his pockets. Then he pulled them out and pushed his sleeves up.

Oh?

Tattoos ran up his right arm, the beginnings of a sleeve. Ink black against light tan, flexed muscle. He was not a skinny pretty boy. You were so busy staring at his arms that you barely registered him placing them casually on either side of you, face right next to yours. Now you were staring down at his broad chest, at his black distressed sweater.

"Excuse me?" you snapped testily, lifting your head to look into his smug eyes.

"I won't touch you," Jungkook murmured quietly. "Unless you ask me to."

This punk ass bitch.

You narrowed your eyes. "What makes you think I would?"

That small teasing smile came back.

"Well, for one, you haven't actually told me you have absolutely no interest yet."

Your hormones prodded you excitedly. Your brain told them to shut up. Your eyes moved to the open door behind his head, looking into the empty hall, trying to keep a balanced, even tone. It came out a little sharper than you intended.

"Door's wide open."

"Embarrassed to be seen with me?" Jungkook purred, breath on your cheek.

You tried not to react even though your hormones were fucking losing it. "What about you?" you shot back sharply.

You heard Jungkook chuckle. "Fuck no I'm not." Your heart jerked heading the crude word come out so daintily and casually from his lips. "I want to be seen with you. All the time. In every position."

You finally tore your eyes from the open door to give him the side-eye. "Real big words there."

Jungkook smirked. "I'm giving you a chance to tell me no. It's taking everything in me not to bend you over this desk right now and fuck your brains out."

You sucked in a breath. Accidentally. Not on purpose. There's absolutely no way Jungkook would have noticed unless he was literally right next to you. Which he was. Shit. He leaned in closer, still not actually touching you.

"You like that idea?" he breathed, the lust evident in his voice, not even trying to hide it.

"I am not some easy bitch at the club, Jungkook. This is the fucking math department," you scolded, eye-level to the base of his neck, wanting very badly to make out with it.

Now it was his turn to inhale sharply. He pulled his head back, and now you were face-to-face with those dark, dark eyes, falling, falling, your body screaming at you to do more. And still you didn’t, torn between reason and instinct.

"I'm so pissed," he growled, breath against your lips. "That the first time I hear you say my name, I wasn't watching your pretty lips form it."

Those few strands brushed against his exposed forehead, framing his furrowed brow and those intense dark brown eyes, making you breathless, telling you that you should, even though the last shreds of reason were telling you, do not, do not, do not give in to Jeon Jungkook.

"It's the middle of the damn day," you murmured.

"And you make me horny every second of every day," he groaned, so close now that his nose almost touched yours. "With your stem stare, your assertive stride, your well-spoken words, and your beautiful body that demands to be kissed, loved, fucked." He panted, shoulders shaking. "God, I want you under me so bad. You have no idea, noona."

Resolve? Hello, where are you?

You raised an eyebrow. "You think you're enough for me?"

His dark eyes gleamed.

"I know I am."

Your eyes flickered to the open door, the vacant hall, feeling Jungkook's body heat hovering so close, so close to you, and then you shifted your eyes back to him. Your brain was screaming at you and your hormones bonked your brain silent. The words at the tip of your tongue came tumbling out, nothing to hold them back anymore.

"Let's see."

And then you kissed him.

Jungkook’s reaction was immediate, his large hands leaving the desk, grabbing your waist, ramming his crotch into you. You gasped against his soft lips and he slid his tongue inside, playing with yours, moaning, kissing you hungrily. His fingers pressed into you through your clothes, strong, tight, unforgiving. Your eyes flew open, surprised at his eagerness. He retreated his tongue and nipped at your lower lip, sucking on it lightly. You shivered, feeling him lift you onto the desk, pushing your legs open with his hips, grinding against you. He kissed down your chin, lifting your head impatiently, moaning against your skin. Every gentle kiss a jolt to your system, contrasting with his rough hands kneading your waist, pulling you close against his firm body, the fucking desk cutting into your thighs, eyelids fluttering.

There was movement at the door.

You froze.

Jungkook’s lips latched onto your neck, sucking sharply. You choked back a wanton moan, seeing a familiar face. A familiar, plump smile with cute, lovely eyes. He waved a small hand at you and reached for the doorknob, locking it from the inside before winking at you and closing the door silently.

Park fucking Jimin.

That bas–

Your thought was sharply cut off by Jungkook nipping at your throat, hissing as he rolled his hips into your thigh, a distinct bulge pressing into you. He yanked down the front of your sweater, sucking on the space right between your collarbones. You whimpered and shuddered, wrapping a leg around his waist and hooking him towards you, hands finally leaving your chest and grabbing his, fingers getting caught in the holes of his sweater.

“Fuck,” he growled. “I’m so fucking hard already because you’re so fucking hot.”

You caught yourself against the desk, elbow slamming onto the wood. You winced. “I haven’t done shit,” you said, surprised to feel your lips slightly swollen.

Jungkook grinned. “You don’t have to. Just you below me is enough.”

You glared at him and he bent over the desk, grabbing the back of your head, pushing your face to his, kissing you again, stealing your breath. It was the perfect mix of force and desperation, leaving you yielding, back arching as he sucked on your tongue, bobbing his head up and down slightly to pull on it. You tried not to make noise – everything was already too noisy anyway – only crying out softly when he let you go. Now you were on your elbows with Jungkook towering over you, licking his lips, the spare strands now stuck to his exposed forehead. His eyes roamed over your body before landing back on your face. You gave him your best questioning look.

He chuckled darkly. “I want to rip all your clothes off, but something tells me you will be upset with me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Because this is still the middle of the math department, let me remind you, Jungkook.” You huffed. “I don’t live here. Don’t get crazy.”

He grinned, leaning forward. “Say my name again, noona. God, let me watch your delicious lips speak my fucking name.”

You raised your eyebrows. Then you felt his hands on your jeans, undoing the button, making you jump. The zipper going down, down. He yanked at the seam, digging it into your already wet pussy, shoving your panties into your slit.

“A-ah, Jungkook…”

Oh fuck. That sounded kind of pathetic.

He bit his lower lip, and yanked again.

“J-Jungkook, ah…” Your eyelids fluttered, trying to keep your strict demeanor.

“Fuck,” he hissed, firmly gripping the waistband of your jeans and pulling them down your ass, half-dragging your panties down. “You like that, noona? Do you want me to be rough with you?”

You prayed to the higher power that he would just take the damn hint and not make you say it. But Jungkook was dragging your panties back up, the thin black fabric being sucked into your folds and ass as he pulled them far too high. You gasped, trying not to look down, trying not to look at his face. But he grabbed your chin, dragging you back to him, making you open your glazed eyes, making you see his excited expression.

“Look at me, noona.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jungkook held the front of your panties and pulled, hard. You had to choke back a moan, the fabric nearly ripping, rubbing harshly against your clit. You felt the squelch of you getting wetter, hearing it clearly as he yanked at it, stimulating your clit.

“Tell me you don’t like it, noona,” Jungkook whispered hotly, letting go of your chin. “Tell me and I’ll stop.”

You spread your legs involuntarily, trying very hard not to make a fucking sound, but it was already obvious by your fists clenched against the desk, your widespread legs, and your pussy lips practically sucking your panties in, so much so that they nearly disappeared into you.

Jungkook snuck a glance down, gasping softly at your glistening pussy being tortured by your panties. He dropped to his knees and you had only one second to be confused before Jungkook’s tongue licked up your slit. You had to slap a hand over your mouth to avoid crying out, leaving your sounds limited to muffled whimpers as he lapped at your juices, groaning into you. Your entire lower body vibrated as he teased your covered clit, smushing the fabric into your deeper, rougher. Your hips strained, trying to hump his face but only digging your panties into you harder.

You removed your hand from your face, biting on your tongue to regain some semblance of thought so you fucking talk.

“T-take it off…” you gasped. You looked down, seeing his mischievous eyes above your quivering mound, licking his lips slowly, pink tongue tracing the contours of his mouth.

Jungkook raised his hand.

Smack!

This time you had to actually shove to knuckles into your mouth and mute your squeal as pain radiated through you, your pussy stinging. He slapped you again, right on your clit, hard, making your throw your head back and nearly hit the desk, hips raising to meet him. Oh, God. He pressed his finger against your aching clit, rubbing hard, standing up to bend over you, an impossibly strong presence as he pleasured you.

“Say it, noona,” he breathed. “Tell me you like getting your pussy spanked.”

He was rubbing your clit so hard that you felt your hips raise into it, eyes rolling back into your head.

“Say it or I’ll stop,” he warned menacingly, voice so low it ripped through you.

You tore your knuckles out of your mouth. “Don’t stop, please, fuck, Jungkook, I love it when you spank my clit, fuck, please, fuck.” The words came jumbling out in a rushed, half-panicked whisper, cut off by your sharp gasp as your orgasm clawed into you. You felt Jungkook slap his free hand over your mouth, shutting off your wail as your throbbed into his hand, turning into helpless whines as he spanked your clit hard and fast, accentuating your high with waves of sudden, aching pain. You pushed his hand away, pressing your head against the desk, gasping.

“Harder, please, Jungkook, harder.”

He was staring at your fucked-out face, massaging your throbbing pussy with his palm, coating his fingers with your cum. Your voice a thin moan, hips rutting into him.

“Believe me, I want to,” he snarled. “I want to so fucking bad, noona, but we’re already loud enough and you’re making a fucking mess.”

He pulled your panties down, nearly useless at this point and roughly shoved two fingers into you. You gasped, tongue lolling out and he took the chance to put two fingers of his free hand into your mouth, rubbing your wet tongue. You could feel every joint, the calluses of his fingertips as he thrust them into you, slopping, wet sounds accompanying his movements.

“Fuck, look at you, noona, sucking in my fingers, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jungkook murmured, centimeters away from your face. “I haven’t even fucked you with my cock yet and you’re already taking me so well.”

If you could think, you probably would have a snappy response, but Jungkook was stuffing his fingers into your mouth and scissoring the others inside your pussy, driving you insane. You made eye contact with Jungkook, him and his blown-out pupils, his lips trembling as he rammed his fingers into your holes faster, harder, sliding you up the wooden desk. Something inside you snapped and you squeezed your eyes shut, your body shaking as you came again, trying to yell, but unable to because Jungkook shoved his fingers into your throat, making you almost choke if it wasn’t for your own expertise. An embarrassing amount of liquid poured down his hand and wrist, dripping down your thighs. You clamped your legs shut, burying his hand, hips jerking as the aftershocks rippled through you.

You heard Jungkook swallow loudly, jaw tight. He slowly pulled his fingers out of both holes, strings of bodily fluid following him as he did so. Your shaking knees were barely holding your lower body up, jeans constricting your calves and your upper body way too fucking hot.

You laid back on the wood, trying to catch your breath. Was it a fucking cliché? Probably. You felt Jungkook lift himself off the desk and you closed your eyes, chest heaving. Of course. He was just going to leave you like this, tearing your secret out of you and then leaving to boast about how he turned the head Calculus I TA into a helpless, submissive puddle of goo without even actually fucking you. Why did you even bother–

You suddenly felt the desk creak and snapped your eyes open to Jungkook climbing onto it, straddling your chest, unzipping his pants right in front of your face. His slicked hair was becoming unfurled now, more and more dark strands falling down around his ears. His brow furrowed, eyes so wide and focused you weren’t even sure he was actually looking at you.

“Uh–”

He reached in his black boxer briefs impatiently and pulled out his thick, leaking cock. Your eyes widened and his found yours, glittering with arousal. A smear of pre-cum grazed your cheek as he adjusted his position to push the red, bulbous tip against your lips.

“I want to fuck you, noona, but you have to clean me up,” Jungkook breathed, gently asking you but also trying to greedily push his dick into your mouth.

You could say something, but somehow you concluded you were going to be muffled anyway, so you opened your mouth, tongue snaking out and licking the head. Flat, wide, and all over, coating your tongue with his pre-cum, moaning at his taste. Jungkook sunk his teeth into his lower lip, hissing softly as he spread his legs even more, lowering himself slowly into your mouth. You licked around his cock before closing your lips and sucking, growing wet as he thrust his hips into your mouth, slow and steady, eyes closed. You reached up to hold onto his thighs, whimpering as you felt his muscular quads through his pants. He opened his eyes and looked down at you, sliding his cock in a little deeper, hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck, noona, so fucking sexy, taking my cock like that,” he groaned, reaching down and pushing your hair out of your eyes. His dark hair hung down, framing his face in shadow, making your pussy throb at the image. “Makes me want to fill all your holes up, makes me want to coat you with my cum and see you covered in it, messy and dirty with me.”

You couldn’t say anything so you just whined, nails digging into his covered thighs.

“You want that?” His voice dropped several octaves again. Your skin prickled hotly with every word. “You want me to jack off all over you and leave you a mess covered with my cum?”

You squeezed your thighs together, desperate for friction, now moving your head to suck harder, rubbing the tip fiercely against the back of your throat.

“F-fuck,” he gritted out. He tapped your hand hurriedly, eyelids fluttering. “S-stop, stop.” You whimpered, sadly looking up at him. He chuckled, rubbing your knuckles soothingly.

Look here you little shit, you can’t say all that dirty stuff and not expect me to be horny, your eyes were telling him.

“I know, I know,” he purred. “But I want to fuck your pussy and office hours are almost over…”

You glowered at him, but reluctantly unhinged your jaw, opening your lips. He slid out, gasping, hitting you in the chin and getting the front of your sweater wet.

“You’re a jerk,” you muttered as he climbed off you.

Jungkook chuckled. “Sorry, noona.”

You shook your hair and reached into your backpack, pulling out a condom, only to turn around and see Jungkook pulling one out of his back pocket.

“Oh.” You blinked at him. “You’re prepared.”

Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows. “I knew what I was coming for.”

A muscle in your brow twitched as he tucked his tongue in his cheek, grinning widely at you as he ripped it open and slid it on slowly, rolling it down his thick cock. His voice changed, dipping raspy and low.

“Turn around.”

Part of you wanted to fight, but then you spied the time. You rolled onto your stomach, sighing exaggeratedly as your legs tangled a bit in your jeans. You felt Jungkook’s presence behind you as he bent over your back, hand sliding over your lips and covering your mouth.

“Sigh all you want, noona,” he growled, chuckling as you shivered. “Just don’t scream when I’m fucking you.”

Your eyes widened as you felt the head press against your puffy pussy lips, pushing in forcefully, expanding your tight little hole as his cock entered you, his moan against your ear, your name dripping with lust. Both of you still mostly clothed, but his cock sliding deep, deep inside you, his teeth on your earlobe. Your walls throbbed around him, squeezing him. He gasped, jutting his hips experimentally into you. A stifled moan sneaked past his fingers, your tongue licking them lightly.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Nice and tight for me, bent over this desk.” He nipped at your ear, whispering softly as he began to fuck you. “What if someone hears you, whimpering for my cock, begging to be fucked?”

Your hands clenched into fists, eyes fluttering shut, feeling him pound you into the wood, deep and slow and far too perfect.

“Noona, what if someone sees you?” His voice like smoke, invading all your thoughts, threatening your dreams, cursing you with the feeling of his lips on your ear and his hips pounding your ass. “Proper, harsh, strict noona turning into a slut for this cock, bent over this desk and humping my hips so you can get this dick deeper inside you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and wiggled your ass against his cock. He thrust his hips harder into you, jerking you forcefully upwards, your thighs smacking against the desk. Light flickered in front of your closed eyelids and you opened them, seeing your phone screen glaring at you. A message from Jimin. Finish already! You struggled to say his name and Jungkook lifted his hand for a moment to hear your shaking breath.

“Jungkook,” you panted. “Time.”

He covered your mouth again. “You’re right,” he grunted, rolling his hips into you, biting back his moans as you clenched around him. The wet, slapping sounds became louder as he changed his angle, fucking you roughly into the table. It pushed your hips up and you clung onto the edge of the desk, moaning around his hand, tongue pressed flat against his palm as he fucked you with reckless abandon, beating a damn indent of the edge of the desk into your thighs. The dull ache was going to lead to a bruise, but you didn’t care, pushing your hips back to meet him. A choked wail vibrated in your throat as you came again, whole body lurching as he sunk his teeth into your clothed shoulder, groaning as he came inside you, cock twitching and throbbing against your walls. You felt the condom expand, matched with Jungkook’s hiss as he pumped into you. You pulsed your pussy around him and he detached his mouth, whispering your name against your ear.

“You’re dirty, noona,” he rasped, the words so breathless they made you shiver. “I love it.”

You shakily reached up and peeled his hand from your mouth, gasping as he straightened to hold the condom and pull out of you. Fuck. Oh fuck. You scrambled for your phone, seeing Jimin’s text.

You better rush outta there, noona.

You heard the wet, peeling sound of Jungkook pulling the used condom off gingerly. You turned around, hissing at Jungkook before he threw it in the trash.

“Are you crazy?” you muttered, snatching it from him. “Someone will see.”

Jungkook blinked at you. “What else do I do with it?”

You glared at him and tied it up, grabbing some tissues and wrapping it inside. Then you shoved it in your backpack, along with your laptop, your tablet, the spare condom, and reaching over the desk to unplug your laptop’s AC adaptor so you could shove that in your bag too.

“Fuck, your ass is so sexy,” Jungkook marveled behind you.

“Jungkook, we have to get the fuck out of here, so pack your damn dick,” you ordered, yanking your jeans up. Squelch. You sucked in your lower lip in at the cold, uncomfortable sensation of your soaked panties. You zipped your bag and checked around the desk to make sure you took everything. You grabbed your phone and shoved it in your back pocket, turning around to see Jungkook rezipping his pants. Thank God. You might have been tempted if he hadn’t listened to you. Then you remembered the two bits of condom wrapping on the floor and picked those up too, shoving them in your other pocket.

Jungkook smirked at you. “So thorough, noona.”

You scowled at him. Maybe he hadn’t been in this situation before, but you sure as hell have.

“Stay here for twenty seconds and then leave.”

Jungkook pouted at you. You felt your heart skip a beat.

“But I don’t even have your number.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ask Jimin. You two are in cahoots anyway.” You popped your head out, looking around. No one. You popped your head back in. “Also, you owe me new panties the next time I see your smug little face, you punk,” you added, tone irate.

He smirked at you; his long dark hair wispy around his playful eyes.

You gave him one last look before you tore your eyes away, rushing through every back stairway to get the hell out of there before someone could realize you just fucked a freshman during office hours, your slopping, torn-up panties reminding you with every step that you really needed Jeon Jungkook to fuck you again.

part ii

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic

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yakumtsaki · 3 years ago

Photo

Sophie is resting after an eventful night of giving birth and training cats, but as usual Sandy Fairchild is lurking, waiting to strike. Goddammit Sandy leave her alone, her needs are shit!

-WAKE UP SOPHIE, TIME TO DIE

-AAAAAH WHY DID I WAKE UP

Ya I don’t know Soph, why did you?? Sandy you dumbass entity, Sophie wasn’t even around when you got killed.

-I DON’T CARE, FUCK ALL OF YOU ALIVE BITCHES

-BOO, BOOOO JOJO, YOUR ROBOT SUCKS

-Oh, my stars and garters!

Literally the only person in this house Sandy has yet to attack is Wyatt, aka THE ONE THAT ACTUALLY MURDERED HER.

-Wéll mùrdèr est une stròngè wôrdé!

It’s a new day and someone needs to take care of those kids until the butler arrives. Jojo as usually steps up! Love you Jo♡

And WYATT STEPS UP ALSO. WTF. Boy I did not see that coming given his parenting record, good for toi, mon bebe!

-And Jack Do will also step up!

JACK DO WTF. WHY ARE YOU BACK HERE AT THE CRACK OF DAWN

-I’m not here!

YES YOU ARE I CAN SEE YOU

-No you can’t! Stop it!

Cyneswith is occupied with more important matters than taking care of her newborn, such as this transparent attempt at seducing iVan..

-𝙻𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍; 𝙷𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚊 ��𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚊.

..and Sophie is making sure Maxx doesn’t feel bad about getting fired 2 days before retirement.

-It’s important for dogs to feel emotionally supported!

But not for babies, you’re so right, Soph!

The glitched butler is finally here, thank God, AND he has a different face on today, great job keeping things fresh!

-Let me just take this baby here and change his diaper..

Yes yes thank you!

-And then place it on the floor next to the other one.. All done!

Credit where it’s due, I was certain Shajar would flop in her ridic ‘become Mayor’ LTW but she has killed it, like this was record-time, only one promotion away-

-and then we won’t have any excuses to ignore our kid, will we, Shaj?

-Oh, I’m sure I’ll come up with something.

Bro why have you been such a flop wife lately, those promotions have really gone to your head.

Alright Soph, here we go, first parent to interact with their kid!

-Oh Shajar, oooh, you sneaky little turbocuck, knocked me up and left me to change the diapers.. well just you wait.... >:)

Sophie feeding Sophito with a dirty bottle while Don and Cyn slowdance-

-and Sugar is on the floor. Seems about right.

iVan loves Abbey! :)

iVan also loves swimming in the pool even though it causes him to run amok, electrocute everyone in his path, and break down :)

-Come back in, iVan, the water’s fine!

Glitched butler istg. GO HOME

Hell yes, a deadly robot on the loose and porch roaches AGAIN. Can shit around here get any better?

Why of course it can, with Wyatt HEARTFARTING OVER SOPHIE. BRO. Legit I can’t even caption this, let’s just move on.

iVan has been running amok and threatening to electrocute everyone for like 5 hours now, will you just break down already??

FINALLY. Man, Jojo, superb job you did with this construction, broken down twice in 2 days and has yet to do a single chore.

-Chore??

Ya, CHORE, he’s a servobot, that’s his entire thing!

-Oh alright, I see your confusion now, yes, he actually ISN’T a servobot.

What?!

-Yes, I sort of completely ignored you and made a killbot instead!

WHAT.

-You really expected me to give my personality to a SERVOBOT?? No, he’s programmed to run amok as often as possible and try to kill everyone.

‘Everyone’ in the sense of ‘everyone in your own family’?!

-Things were getting too calm and safe around here, how is this family ever going to reach its full potential without the threat of death? One day you’ll see my point.

YA I DON’T THINK I WILL

-Aww, I just love feeding my baby!💗

Unless you and Sophie have something to tell us, wrong baby, Cyn.

There you go!

-Daddy said iVan would electrocute me if I didn’t start being a better mother, huhu🥺

-There there, Sophito, don’t worry, grandpa might not be around forever but he’s gonna electrocute everyone in this house until they become good parents!

Don’s dumb ass finally got promoted, let’s see how long before he gets demoted for the third time.

-This thing broken again?

I don’t know Don, why don’t you go into the pool with him and find out.

Maxx grows up! He’s so dashing <3

-Always have been ;)

He celebrates his birthday by beating up Torr! Wholesome animal friendships <3

-Torr, stop getting beat up by Maxx and come over here to learn how to shake! -Meow meow, meow meow meow!!! -I don’t care that the fire of vengeance is coursing through your veins, we need to train!

MAXX OMG!!!!! BEST BIRTHDAY EVER

*Wink*

Great job baby, can’t believe you rebounded from the firing in 3 days, ICONIC.

Sophie then rolls a want that shocks me to my very core:

BRUH. I have NEVER seen this want before, even super-duper animal lover Komei never rolled it, he was more than fine letting pets work for all eternity. Sophie your name from now on is officially Sophtie, I can’t believe you’re legit the kindest sim in this house and yet here we are.

-I’m not kind! You shut your goddamn mouth! Not you, Sugar, poor baby, Auntie Soph won’t let you starve <3

WHAT IS HAPPENING.

-Well Shaj, I think it’s fair to say if there was a best parent award, the two of us would tie for it! -Indubitably, my dear Don!

#gen 3 #ts2

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inkandpen22 · 4 years ago

Text

The Princess and The Pogue (pt. 5)

Pairing: JJ x Female!Reader / Topper x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: swearing, violence, mild smut

Part Summary: You and Topper make amends. You two attend the end of the summer bonfire at the Boneyard. When JJ sees you guys together, things take a turn for the worst.

Masterlist

Somehow, after hours of crying, you finally fell asleep on your bed. You're not quite sure when it happened. Your covers tucked nicely under you, wet from your tears. When you first got home, you immediately snuck up to your room, far from your parents. You ripped off your Labor Day dress, having already hated it, but you also took your aggression out on it. You changed in one of Topper's T-shirts that you stole sometime last summer... when you were hooking up. You had never been so close. Morning, noon, and night you were together. You were practically dating but without the titles. Actually, it was far deeper than that. You spent almost every hour together, you co-existing. You were acting married even though you were only teenagers. You guys just loved each other that much. If someone had told you then that a year from now you two wouldn't be talking, you would've thought they were crazy.

“Y/N!" You hear Topper in your dreams. "Y/N!" He repeats, then you process it's real.

"What the-" You rise from your laid position and spot the boy climbing in from your window in the dark. "Topper?"

"Hey! Sorry to scare you," he apologizes as he rises to his feet from a crawling position on your floor.

"Did you climb through the window?" You question, this wouldn't be the first time, but it nevertheless is mind-boggling to you how he can climb up the side of your house.

"Yeah, can you tell your mom to not have the gardeners cut the vines so short?" He complains with a chuckle, brushing down his Patagonia shirt.

"What are you doing here?" You yawn. Considering what he said to you just hours before, you can't help but wonder why the fuck he's here.

"I... I need to apologize," he stammers, taking a seat on the edge of your bed just by your legs. "Y/N, I'm so sorry! I was such a jerk to you earlier. I shouldn't have-"

Before he can even finish, you leap at him, pulling him into a pleading hug. "Jesus, I'm so happy you're here," you whisper against his shoulder.

Topper instantly wraps his arms around you, engulfing you. He releases a deep breath, not having realized until this moment that he couldn't breathe the entire time you weren't talking. "I've missed you!" He pulls back and brushes his hand across your cheek, bringing your hair back. "I missed you the moment you left!" He wears a smile of relief as his eyes glisten with tears threatening to fall.

"Never let me go again," you mutter, almost as a beg.

"I could never. I didn't," Topper explains in a rushed whisper, gripping your waist. "As soon as you left I was a mess, ask the boys! They had to talk me off a cliff. I came by earlier but your parents said you were still at Kiara's... which I'm guessing you were with JJ and the other Pogues..." His face falters and he avoids your gaze at the mention of JJ.

You bring your hand up and tuck your fingers under his chin, guiding him to look at you. His eyes meet you with defeat and it nearly breaks your heart. "JJ drove me back to John B's, but I had Sarah drive me home almost as soon as we got there."

"So you and JJ..." He can't bring himself to ask.

"We..." Your brows scrunch together as you realize you never really discussed it. "You know what, I didn't even know." Enough about JJ, you're just happy that Topper is here! You felt so empty all day, in a constant state of panic. Now, you can exist again. "I'm just relieved you're here, Top. I've felt sick to my stomach all day," you release a breathless laugh of relief.

"No, yeah you're right, no one else matters," he shakes his head, reaching for your hand on his cheek and taking it in his hands. "As long as we're good then everything else will be okay." He lifts your hand to his lips and gives them a needy kiss.

"Stay with me?" You ask softly as he does.

You see him swallow hard, pausing with your hand his lips. His eyes flicker up to yours with a mixture of surprise and admiration. "I was hoping you'd ask." A faint grin appearing on the edge of his lips.

You and Topper get ready for bed as you used to every night when he snuck into your room a lot more. You've shared a bed since breaking off your... arrangement. There was the ski trip and Bermuda, but on random nights when he couldn't sleep or missed you, Topper would find himself in your bed. You pull back your blankets, knowing to get on the side closest to the window, away from the door. Topper didn't need to think twice to move to the opposite side because ever in the case of an emergency, he's the closest to the door. He's always thinking of how to keep you safe and satisfied. As you climb in, Topper begins to remove his t-shirt and shorts. You can't help but watch as his clothes become a pile on his side. It's months since you two have done anything, but that doesn't mean you haven't thought about it. There have been opportunities, but you always try to be responsible and remember why you stopped. Topper doesn't notice your staring and wondering what it would feel like to run your fingers down his chest. He climbs in next to you and immediately guides you into his side. Instantly, you feel secure and wanted, which is all anyone ever needs. He brushes his fingertips up and down your spine gently while you rest your cheek against his bare chest. It's not a new feeling to you, but it certainly never gets old.

"There's a bonfire tomorrow at the Boneyard, wanna go together?" The boy asks, glancing down at you.

"As long as Rafe doesn't go wild as he did," you snicker, but you mean what you say.

"Don't worry about him, we had a nice long chat once he sobered up this afternoon," he insinuates and you wish you would've seen Topper go off on him. Then, you comprehend that it might've only happened because Topper was mad at you and Rafe was getting the side effects.

"He doesn't deserve you, Top." You mutter, lifting your head off his chest to place a quick kiss on his chest.

"That's how I feel about myself with you," he confesses as he peers down at you. "You've always been there for me. When Sarah cheated, you were right there and pulled me through it. The way I spoke to you this morning. I-"

"No, no, don't say that," you shake your hand repeatedly as you cup his cheek as you did before. He leans into your touch and you find yourself wishing to be closer to him, as though that's even possible. "I love you, Top. You're my best friend. I'll always be there for you. You've helped me in more ways than you could ever realize."

"I love you too, Y/N," he smiles, leaning down and placing a kiss on your forehead. "So much..." he whispers against your skin.

His eyes flicker down to your neck and you remember last night in the kitchen. You brush your hand across Topper's cheek, pulling his focus back to you. His eyes and features falter at the evidence of JJ on you.

"I'm here with you! Okay? It's you and me," you try to emphasize.

He nods slowly, still feeling an ache in his chest, but relieved to have you in his arms. You're it for Topper. He would do anything for you, drop anyone for you, nothing is too much. You alone are what drives him and are the reason he wakes up in the morning. He would never admit it aloud out of guilt, but when he was with Sarah, he always compared her to you. He doesn't fully know why he dated her, maybe because he felt you slipping away when you realized that you no longer wanted to hook up. He couldn't lose you so he tried to replace you, but he quickly realized that was impossible. No one could be you.

_____________________________________

Topper woke up before you and let you sleep, pondering having you in his arms. Your legs entangled in his, your arm across his chest along with your cheek. In the light, he finally notices you wearing his shirt. A faint smile forms on his lips at the sight. He has you here with him, not with JJ or Rafe or anyone else who's pining after you. You're his.

You've spent the entire day together on Topper's boat. It couldn't have been more perfect. The hours slipped by without either of you two noticing. Topper has been energized and enthusiastic about everything, all because he has you back. Around ten, you and Topper arrive at the Boneyard for the final bonfire of the summer. You wear distressed white short shorts over a black tank bodysuit with a matching black Chanel belt. All finished with the pearl earrings Topper gave you for Christmas last year.

Topper keeps you close, his arm around your waist as you walk toward the crowd of teenagers. "I'm so lucky."

You peer up at the boy with a giggle. "Why?"

"I have the most beautiful girl in the OBX at my side," he flirts.

You turn your attention ahead, struggling to hide your blushing. "You sound like Rafe."

Topper steps around to walk backward in front of you. He locks his fingers through the loops of your shorts and pulls you into his chest. "At least he and I agree on something." He grins, resting his hands on your hips.

You playfully roll your eyes but find it hard to hide your amusement. "You're such a cheese ball."

"I'm gonna go get us some drinks," he announces before planting a quick peck to your temple.

You nod, stepping back toward the shore as Topper holds onto your hands until the last minute. "Okay, I'll find us a spot by the water."

"Be right there," he winks, offering you a mischievous smirk.

For a second, you watch Topper jog off to the stack of coolers by the cement wall. Is it possible to be too dependent on someone? You know that if you and Topper stopped talking completely that you wouldn't physically die, but emotionally it would destroy you. You smile, knowing that you two will grow closer because of your fight. It taught you a valuable lesson. It took losing Topper for you to fully comprehend how much you need him. Turning on your heels, you head toward a log facing the shore. It's far enough from the chaos to give you and Topper some privacy, but close enough to still be included in the festivities. You two are both social butterflies, but today has been about you two and you want to keep it that way. You sit down on the log, content watching the small waves crashing against the sand just a few feet away. The light of the moon shimmers on the water, making it looks like lines of crystal.

"Want a drink, Princess?" A familiar voice asks over your shoulder

You glance up to see a

"Wow, you look extra Kooky tonight," he remarks under his breath as he brings his cup to his mouth.

You glare at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's play a game!" He blurts out. "How many items that Y/N is wearing are designer?"

You roll your eyes, realizing how drunk he is because JJ isn't like this. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Just the right amount!" He answers swiftly before moving on. "My guess is all of them, but I can't be too sure. You'll have to take off your clothes so I can check what's underneath."

"You wanna sit for a second? Maybe cool down a bit?" You offer, gesturing to the space beside you.

His expression shifts from carefree to hurt. "Why do you care?"

"JJ..." You sigh, peering up at the boy with immense guilt.

"What?!" He tosses his arms up at his sides, losing some of his drink in the process. "You come here with Prince Charming, acting all coupley!"

"It's not like that-" You try to explain calmly.

"Not according to Sarah!" He counters in a shout. You nervously check over at the crowd, making sure no one heard him burst. "You two planning your next trip to Bermuda?!"

"What!" You whip your head back around toward JJ. "What did Sarah tell you?!" You fly up to your feet, stepping toward him defensively.

"Did you sleep with him?!" JJ yells again and you're sure others heard him this time.

"Excuse me?" You gasp at his audacity.

"After you left John B's, did you go and find him?!" He elaborates with a breathless laugh. He steps closer to you, getting in your face. He doesn't care if others listen or if he's making you uncomfortable. "After you kissed me and slept in my bed, did you go and sleep with Topper?!"

Abruptly, you feel a hand pressed to your back and see JJ being shoved backyard.

"Hey! Back off man!" Topper growls, suddenly at your side.

JJ catches himself from falling after a second of stumbling. "Oh and here he is now!" He laughs, tossing his cup to the side. "Your knight in shining armor!"

"I think you should go, man!" Topper warns between his teeth.

Topper's arm slips around you and grips your waist protectively. You watch JJ as he glares at Topper's arm around you.

"Don't "man" me, alright! Touch me again and you'll lose a hand!" JJ threatens.

"JJ!" John B calls for his friend as he runs toward you from down the beach. Kiara, Pope, and Sarah are close behind him. When JJ doesn't react. John B shouts again. JJ! Come on, let's go back over to the fire."

"No! Not until she answers me!" JJ screams, yanking his arm free.

Pope, Kiara, and Sarah watch in distress as JJ and Topper go back and forth. None of you are sure what to do.

"Answer what!" Topper barks, stepping toward JJ defensively. You grab his arm, keeping him back.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Is your name Y/N?" JJ laughs mockingly. "That Kook Academy doesn't do you guys any favors for your intelligence does it?"

Pope steps around to block off his friend. "Just cool down, buddy!"

"I knew you were Kook, Y/N, but I would've never marked you as slut," JJ shouts at you over Pope's shoulder.

Topper breaks free of your hold, charging at JJ. John B grabs Pope and yanks him out of Topper's way. Now block-less, JJ runs at Topper. His face is red with aggravation. You could've never imagined seeing JJ look so enraged. The person he was with you the other night was entirely different. He was kind, gentle, understanding. You don't recognize him. Topper shoves JJ hard enough to make the boy fall back onto the sand.

Topper tackles JJ into the ankle-deep water, immediately punching him in the jaw. The two grunt, struggling to get the upper hand. John B attempts to pull Topper off.

"Topper!" You yell desperately.

"JJ!" Kiara yells from the sidelines.

"Enough!" John B barks at the pair as Pope runs to assist.

The crowd by the bonfire starts to figure out what's going on a few yards away and rush over to watch. Pogues and Kooks each cheer for their fighter. Kelce and Rafe show up, pushing through the crowd to help out their friend.

"Topper! Get off of him!" You plead as your best friend continues to press JJ's head under the water.

JJ manages to punch Topper in the cheek, making the boy lose his balance for a second. Despite hating each other, Kelce and Rafe try to help out John B and Pope.

"Guys! Quit!" Kelce commands, pulling at Topper.

"Top, you'll kill him!" Sarah screams from beside Kiara.

You want to go stand with them, but at this moment you're not sure if they want anything to do with you. Sarah and Kiara are Pogues. You're not just Y/N right now, their friend. You're a Kook during this Kook vs. Pogue fight.

The boys manage to yank Topper off of JJ. The blonde Pogue flies up from beneath the surface, gasping for air. Topper falls back onto the sand in a seated position. Topper continues to fist JJ's collar and as he's shoved off, ripping JJ's shirt down the front. You notice the large purple and blue bruise on JJ's chest and freshly heeling cut down his neck to his collar bone. JJ frantically reaches behind himself, searching for something. Then, things take a turn for the worst when he whips out a gun. The crowd that watched the fight with amusement now scatters in a panic.

"Woah! Woah! Woah!" Topper's eyes grow wide as he starts to scoot back, holding up a hand pleadingly.

Kelce and Rafe bolt away, John B and Pope rush out words, trying to calm JJ down.

"JJ!" John B yells at his friend. "What the hell?!"

"Oh my god!" Sarah's hands fly up to her mouth.

"That's right! Bet you didn't think I had that did ya?" JJ grins wickedly at Topper.

"Topper!" Kelce attempts to collect his friend but halts when JJ points the gun at him.

"Everyone back off!" JJ orders, rising to his feet, returning the gun's point toward Topper.

Without a second thought, you sprint across the sand. You slide in front of Topper, the waves splashing against you.

"Y/N! No!" Topper screams as soon as you land in JJ's path.

"Y/N!" Sarah and Kiara shout your name in unison.

JJ hesitates when his eyes land on you. You see him lower the gun a little and Kelce takes the opportunity to pull Topper from the scene.

"JJ please..." you beg of him.

Your heart is racing, but you're certain JJ won't hurt you. Despite his evident pain and anger toward you, he won't do it. You remember the boy from the other night, the one who spoke to you with such admiration. That boy wouldn't harm you. You know he's in there beneath this tough facade.

"Y/N! Come on!" Rafe wraps his fingers around your arm and drags you away.

While he's distracted by you, John B swiftly steals the gun from JJ's hand and begins ushers him away to their circle of friends. The Pogues swarm JJ, all talking over each other.

Rafe frantically cups your face, checking on you. "Y/N! Y/N, are you okay?"

"I'm fine..." You mutter, glancing over your shoulder, watching John B talk to JJ down the beach.

"No cuts? Scrapes?" Rafe panics.

"No..." You shake your head absent-mindedly as you’re too distracted by observing JJ.

"Are you okay?" Kiara checks on JJ worriedly as you watch from a distant.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine!" JJ rushes out, still agitated. "Fuck this man!" He swears, then his eyes land on yours with surprise. He hand’t expected you to be listening or even care.

You two stare each other from across the beach. Guilt consumes his features and sympathy breaks you apart as your vision lands on the wounds covering JJ’s torso. Rafe brings you over to Kelce who has Topper catching his breath against a tree.

"Dude's fucking nuts, man!" Kelce curses, all fidgety beside you.

As soon Topper sees you coming, he pushes himself off the tree and rushes to you. His arms engulf you as he presses you to his chest.

He squats down to be at your level, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re so stupid, Y/N! You just jumped in front of a gun! Why would you do that?!”

“Because it was pointed at you!” You justify desperately.

Topper's eyes soften. “You’d risk your life for me?! Are you crazy?!” A soft, breathless, laugh escapes him.

“Of course I would you idiot!” You remark with frustration. How could he possibly think you wouldn't? You'd do anything for the boy.

“God, I love you so much," he mutters, placing a hand on either side of your head and planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt anywhere?” You check his body in a panic.

“Yes, yes I’m okay!” He assures you. “Let’s get out of here before things get crazy again."

Your eyes grow wide. “Agreed!”

He looks over at you and Topper doting on each other. It makes him even more pissed off. "Great! Go baby him! Tend to your Kook Prince, you Princess!" He yells across the beach.

John B covers his friend's mouth. "Shut up, JJ!"

"Jesus JJ!" Pope huffs under his breath.

You and Topper snap your heads in JJ's direction. As a result, Topper pulls you into his side securely.

“We'll text you guys later!” Kelce calls out to you both as he and Rafe start backing toward their cars.

“Stay close to me,” Topper slips his into yours, giving it a tight squeeze. “I’m never letting that psycho Pogue anywhere near you again!”

When you arrive at Topper's car, he opens your door for you. He keeps a sharp eye on the Pogues that remain on the beach. When John B or any of them glance our way, he glares daggers in their direction. Once you climb in, Topper reaches in and begins to buckle your seat belt as though you were a toddler in a car seat.

“Topper I think I can put on my own seat belt,” you

“I know, Sweetheart. I’m just..." he stops his action, kneeling beside you. "I guess I’m still a little scared. I was so afraid when that gun was pointed at you, I... I couldn’t breathe. I can never lose you, Y/N,” he rushes out, becoming emotional.

Your emotions become bottled up as a lump in your throat. You rub your fingers through Topper's hair and plant a kiss on his forehead. His hands glide around your waist to your back, hugging you needly. His head rests against your chest as you cradle it.

Abruptly, he breaks from you as a thought pops into his mind. “Promises me that if there’s any dangerous situation like that again, you run!" He instructs sternly. "You don’t do anything reckless for my sake!”

You shake your head frantically, already rejecting his words. “You would’ve done the same thing for me! You basically did!” You justify.

“I’m seriously Y/N!" Topper stands his ground. Eagerly, he takes removes your hands from his hair and squeezes them in his own. "I could never live with myself if something happened to you! Never again!”

You want to argue with him on it, claim that if he's going to be protective of you that he must understand that you'll be the same. Yet, nothing escapes you. Instead, you simply nod, not wanting to fight at this moment.

He nods, satisfied by your compliance. “I love you, you know that right?”

You nod. “I love you too, Topper."

_________________________________________

JJ fell into a dark abyss of self-deprecation and destruction after the bonfire. The Pogues all drove back to John B's, but as soon as they got there JJ disappeared as he did the day before. All they can do is wonder where he goes. If they knew that he was at the bar searching for his dad half drunk, they would be stopping a second fight for the day.

JJ can't help but feel responsible for it all. One minute he has you. You're right there. The next, you're gone, in the arms of Topper of all people. He wants to know if anything from the other night was real for you. Was he just a game to you? You're the Princess of the OBX, you can have anything you want, including JJ if you asked. Is that what happened? You wanted him for a night and then got bored and went back to your fellow Kook. He wishes he hadn't let you down. He wishes you were here. He wishes that he could hold you again and feel you in his arms. Waking up next to you was the best moment in his life and he fears he'll never feel that sort of peace again.

______________________________________________________

You Topper spend the night at his house, too afraid to be apart. Late into the night, Topper struggles to fall asleep as he holds you. Your back is pressed to his chest as his hands rest against you underneath his shirt you're wearing. Every time he tries to close his eyes, he envisions what could've happened tonight. You could've been shot. Topper could never live with himself if anything happened to you. Moving slowly to not wake you, he rolls onto his back and reaches toward the nightstand for his phone. He begins to scroll through social media and text messages, responding in the group chat between you, Kelce, Rafe, and himself. You've all agreed to go to lunch tomorrow at the Club with some other Kooks from the bonfire.

You stir next to Topper, making the boy pause for a second. When you roll over still asleep and curl into him, a wave of relief rushes over Topper.

“Go back to sleep,” you yawn.

Topper jumps at the sudden sound of your voice. “Shit... sorry Beautiful, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’ve been awake. I could feel you overthinking," you whisper, scooting closer into his side.

“You could feel me thinking?” He repeats with a hint of confusion.

You hum, as it makes perfect sense to you. You hear the sound of Topper pushing his phone back onto the side table. He rests his now free hand over your arm that lays across him. After a couple of minutes, you can still feel the tension radiating from him.

“I’m okay, Topper,” you tell him to ease his nerves.

“I know, I can’t just help but review the course of events in my head. What if he didn’t hesitate? What if his hand slipped? What if-“

“Enough!” You fly up to prop yourself up on your elbow. You stare down at the worried boy with sympathy. "You’re okay! I’m okay! What’s done is done and all we can do is be safe from now on. We’re safe!” You reach up and comb your fingers through the side of his hair. “Okay? It’s just you and me here.”

Impulsively, Topper extends his neck and slams his lips to yours. You sit stunned as the kiss rides out its course. You and Topper go months without anything intimate and within two days, he's kissed you twice, breaking every ruled you two have made. When you don't react, Topper breaks from you with a startled expression, as if he wasn't comprehending his actions.

“Y/N, I'm sorry! I-“

Before Topper can finish his sentence, you press your lips to his hungrily. You're not sure why, but you need him. Topper is your kryptonite, the bittersweet reality in your life. Forgetting his regret, Topper immediately sits up, resting against his headboard. You take the opportunity to straddle his torso and he keeps you steady with his hands on your hips. It's been ages since you've made out, but it's like riding a bike for you two. You know what each other likes and what gets the other going.

"I've missed you so much," Topper whispers against your jawline as he moves down to leave marks on your neck. He aggressively attacks your sensitive skin where evidence of JJ remains. Deep down in the back of your mind, you know Topper is parking his territory for JJ to see later. Your skin has become a battleground for the two. "I've missed this."

"Me too," you pant, silently wondering if you truly mean it in the same sense as him.

Though you chose to kiss Topper back and want to, you can’t understand why JJ’s face enters your mind the moment you do. As you deepen the kiss with Topper, you chase the sensation he’s giving you. You're addicted to the way he makes you feel, it's familiar and reminds you of a time when you were carefree. Yet, your thoughts remain fixated on JJ. You want Topper, but all you can think about is JJ.

__________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly@cc13723things @hockeybabe87 @jolomez

#topper obx #topper outer banks #topper imagine #topper #john b routledge #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fic #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank imagines #jj #kiara #sarah cameron #pope #outer banks

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dudeandduchess · 4 years ago

Text

Yakuza!Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Sugar and Spice (Mafia!AU, Modern AU, NSFW Series)[Chapter 8]

Summary: Kyōjurō and (Y/n) meet at a party, only to find out that their lives would change forever— since they had been arranged to be married.

Note: I have nothing against McDonald’s; I love some of their things (Nuggets!!!). It’s just that the contrast between what (Y/n)’s mother had always had, compared to something so normal makes me laugh.

Warnings: Smut, Making Out, Candy Swapping, Semi-Public Sex (Private Beach), Teasing, Champagne Blowjob, Cum Swallowing

||Sugar and Spice Masterlist||

***

It had been a couple of days since the pleasurable incident at the Rengoku clan’s mountain home and, for the life of her, (Y/n) couldn’t get it out of her head. Especially at night, when she begun fantasizing about having Kyōjurō’s hands all over her again, with his chest pressed flush against her back.

She would never admit it, but she was addicted— after only the barest taste of him.

And she would have devised a plan to wring the same pleasure from him again, had he not called her the following morning to say that something had come up in Osaka. That would have been find, if it only took a day to fix it. But, apparently, it was going to take a few days.

(Y/n) had tried not to let her disappointment show in her tone, but Kyōjurō must have picked up on it, since she had gotten the most beautiful bouquet of pink and white hydrangeas— as well as one of Kyōjurō’s button down shirts— a mere hour after they had said goodbye to each other.

The card had even held the sweetest inscription she had ever received, which she quickly used to cover her face— as she raced back up the stairs to get back to the privacy of her room.

At that present moment, with her already done getting herself ready for the day, she took a brief moment for herself and sat down on the edge of her bed; taking the card where she had left it on top of her nightstand, and biting back a smile as she read her fiancé’s writing.

‘You are much like hydrangeas; Beautiful, but selfish with your love. I hope that I can take a piece of your heart while I’m gone, And I hope that someday I’ll have your love, (Y/n).

P.S. I’m giving you my shirt, so that it will keep a little bit of me with you.

Forever Yours, Kyōjurō’

(Y/n) couldn’t help but bite down on her lower lip, if only to bite back the giggle that threatened to spill from her lips. She had been reading the card frequently, yet it still managed to elicit the same reaction from her; as if she were a lovesick teenager.

It was very unbecoming for her; especially over someone whom she was still getting to know.

Kyōjurō was going to become her husband, that was a fact, but there was a tiny voice in her head that always warned her to not get too close. Thankfully, it had been small enough to bury beneath all of her foremost thoughts; yet when she was alone— like at that moment— it gained enough momentum to make itself known.

And the smile on her face, which brightened up her features, turned down into a barely perceptible frown. It was dangerous for her to fall so easily for a man; especially a man that she knew was still keeping his cards close to his chest.

She knew that; after all, she wasn’t that far gone in her blossoming feelings for him.

It would have been so easy to keep herself in check, to guard her heart and keep herself sane… if only he didn’t make her feel like throwing all caution to the wind so she could jump and fall right into his arms.

Just like he had told her that she made him happy, Kyōjurō made her feel the same; along with feeling protected and appreciated.

Before (Y/n) could delve in deeper into her own thoughts however, she quickly shook herself from her reverie and placed the card back down on her nightstand. Then, she got up from her bed and straightened herself out; after all, Rin hadn’t been coming to her room to pester her about attending events in her parents’ stead.

Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t been tasked to attend any political functions ever since Kyōjurō had warned her mother to lessen her tasks. It gave her enough time to actually relax during her break, and it felt amazing.

She had to remember to give Kyōjurō a kiss once he returned. And if she were to be honest, she would say that she missed him.

“You’re too invested, (Y/n),” The young woman muttered to herself with a playful scoff, before shaking her head and making her way down to the dining room. It was time for breakfast, after all; her most dreaded part of the day, since she had to sit there and take all of her mother’s ill-concealed jabs.

Her tasks may have lessened, but her family life sure hasn’t improved.

With all her apprehension about going to see her mother, (Y/n) even dawdled a little bit during the walk downstairs; purposely taking her time to admire some of the paintings that caught her interest, until she arrived at the doorway she was trying to avoid the most.

And with a deep breath, she stepped through and expected her mother’s mildly displeased expression to greet her. Only, the first face that she saw had her immediately brightening up; especially when those lips that she missed tilted up at the corners to give her a handsome grin.

“Kyōjurō!” (Y/n) breathed out, just as a wide smile colored her expression. And before she could help it, she already found herself practically skipping over to where he now stood— only to freeze when she saw her mother’s narrow-eyed gaze boring right into her.

Immediately, the arms that wanted to wrap themselves around her lover froze at her sides; while Kyōjurō engulfed her in a tight embrace, before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Did you miss me, princess?”

“I… I did.” She admitted, her smile almost faltering once, as she felt her mother’s glare boring right into her back. However, she was shielded by Kyōjurō’s face, so she allowed herself a little bit of rebellion and leaned in to peck his lips— all while her hands lifted themselves up and settled themselves at his sides in a pseudo hug.

As her mother had kept repeating to her while she was growing up: it was unbecoming of someone of her social status to show too much emotion to anyone, as it gave people a leverage over her. And it was obvious that it had stuck to her, since she could only act normally whenever she wasn’t around any people who gave a damn about who she was.

Thankfully, she was shaken from her reverie by Kyōjurō guiding her to sit down on the empty chair next to where he sat. “Go and eat, baby. You need your strength for today.”

Kyōjurō’s words were innocent enough, but they didn’t fail to make goosebumps raise across her skin. They were so laden with hidden meaning, at least in her mind, that she couldn’t shake the warmth that pooled at the pit of her stomach.

With those words hanging in the air, she turned her full attention to the food set out on the table— holding back a surprised expression when she saw that it was laden with carry-out boxes from McDonald’s. A laugh wanted to bubble free from the sight of the lavish table paired off with something so… common, yet (Y/n) could only purse her lips together as she grabbed the laid-out silverware to serve herself a pancake.

Breakfasts used to be such a droll agenda whenever she was at home, but Kyōjurō had managed to spin such a humorous twist on it that made her want to kiss him.

The best part? Rengoku Kyōjurō had practically forced her mother— the wife of the Prime Minister, and the prissiest woman to ever live— to eat an Egg McMuffin.

(Y/n) would never forget the undernoted look of disgust that she kept shooting the blond at her side; the very man whom, she was naught to admit, was starting to become such an essential part of her life.

“How’s your McMuffin… okaa-sama?” Kyōjurō asked quietly, looking so regal even with a paper cup of coffee in his right hand. And (Y/n) could only get swept into him even more, when he turned to her and gave her the most attractive wink; one that had her heart practically skipping in her chest.

***

When (Y/n) had heard that she should keep her strength up for the day, she had expected so much more than just going to the beach— which Kyōjurō’s family apparently bought a few years ago— and being told that her fiancé only wanted to relax.

If she were to be honest, she would say that she expected to get railed so hard on the blanket. After all, it was why she had worn the sundress that she was sure accented all of her curves; one that would entice Kyōjurō into doing just what she wanted him to.

There wasn’t anything wrong with hoping to get fucked by such a sexy man, but it had been a few days, and she was sure that he was trying to put on a show just to tease her. That was the problem: he wasn’t giving in to her.

He merely laid down next to her on their blanket— in all his shirtless glory— while he kept eating that goddamned hard candy that was in the glass bowl next to him. And to make things worse for her, he looked so attractive— especially with his abs out on display, and his sunglasses framing his face so perfectly.

She would have long straddled his hips and slipped his cock inside her, had she been that shameless of a woman.

It wasn’t much of a statement coming from her, based on how they had first met, but it was different because they were out in the open; where anyone could happen by and take pictures of them humping like rabbits on the beach.

That wasn’t a headline that she wanted the entirety of Japan to see, even if she knew that the property was as secluded and secure as it could be.

Still, Kyōjurō was making it so hard to resist him. And he knew just how badly he was affecting her.

“Do you want to eat something, baby? Maybe a drink?” Kyōjurō asked softly, raising his sunglasses to the top of his head while he turned to look at (Y/n)— whom was no longer scrolling through her phone, and was blatantly ogling his body.

He would be lying if he said that he didn’t like that, or if he said that that wasn’t turning him on.

In fact, he had wanted to push her down on the table at her house, had her mother not been there to keep giving him ill-concealed glares. But he had to keep it in his pants, since he wanted to see how she would react with a little bit of pushing from him.

After all, he could make her so needy for him that it would make for the hottest nights of their life; especially if he kept on teasing her bit by bit until their wedding night.

It was too little too late, after he had already had a taste of her tight pussy, but it only made things much more exciting for him. If only he wasn’t constantly close to asking her to fuck him.

“A glass of champagne would be nice…” (Y/n) answered softly, the flush on her face getting more evident in the shade, especially when her eyes flickered up to meet his own. They were so intense with need that Kyōjurō couldn’t help it…

He cupped her face with one hand and pulled her in to his face, as he sat upright to meet her halfway.

The first touch of his lips to hers had his entire body tingling with warmth, as if it was coming alive under her touch. And it was only made better when their slow and tentative kisses slowly escalated to open-mouthed ones; ones that had him feeling himself getting hard.

Especially when she reached down and cupped her hand over his hardening cock.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Kyōjurō’s lips then, as he got it in his mind to push the piece of candy in his mouth into hers.

(Y/n) was clearly surprised at first, tensing up the tiniest bit, before getting swept up in her fiancé’s pace. His tongue kept prodding at hers, trying to pull the candy back into his own mouth, which she complied to.

Gingerly, she allowed him to take the sweet from her mouth, instantly missing its sweetness, before it was gently pushed right back in— so warm and a little minty, with a hint of something that was uniquely Kyōjurō.

Or maybe that was her lust addled mind talking.

However, before things could escalate further, the blond pulled away with a grin— his candy back in his mouth. “I’ll be back with your champagne, princess.”

To say that she was shocked and feeling cross with him was a total understatement. She was feeling so irate that she wanted to get some sort of revenge on him— which had been fueled by her less-than-innocent searches while he was gone.

So, she stewed in her own impatience— even sitting up on her knees— just so she could take him by surprise when he came back.

Thankfully, Kyōjurō didn’t take too long with getting her drink; grinning right at her even if she could see the obvious bulge in his swim trunks. It provided the perfect opportunity for her to get back at him, at least even a little.

And when he got back on their blanket, giving her the glass of champagne before making a move to sit back down, (Y/n) got up on her knees and placed a hand on his right thigh— looking up at him and licking her lips, before sliding that hand up to cup his hard-on once more.

“You look uncomfortable,” The young woman whispered, as she slowly undid the tie to her fiancé’s shorts and gently pushed them down his hips; much like how she pushed her own trepidations aside, and threw all caution to the wind.

She was on private property. And she trusted, deep down, that Kyōjurō would protect her and her reputation if it came down to it.

So, she let go of her inhibitions— especially when she was greeted by her fiancé’s hard cock in front of her face. It was thick, and long, and a little bit curved— which had her pussy getting so wet already.

Remembering how amazing he felt inside her even had her squeezing her thighs together, if only to alleviate the lust that she felt bubbling within her.

Gingerly, she took his cock in her right hand, pumping it slowly, and using her thumb to spread the precum that beaded at his tip. A low groan was her reward for that, which only spurred her on even more— especially when she saw his eyes close in pleasure.

Just the faintest of touches and he was already like that. She couldn’t wait to see what his reaction was going to be when she set her plans into action.

And when she leaned forward to suck on the tip of his cock, she felt confidence flaring up within her when Kyōjurō moaned aloud— with his right hand making its way into her hair.

It was hot, but she was not going to get swept up in his pace again.

So, before he could try to give her a nudge to take more of him in her mouth, (Y/n) pulled the head of his cock out of her mouth and took a big sip from the champagne flute in her left hand. And with that, she set the drink down on the blanket— hoping that it wouldn’t topple over.

She kept the cool and bubbly drink in her mouth— looking up again at Kyōjurō, whom was watching her with such a lust-filled gaze— before taking his cock in her mouth once more.

That time, however, Kyōjurō actually cried out in pleasure; hips bucking involuntarily as he felt the champagne’s bubbles teasing his cock. Partnered with the coolness of the drink, and the warmth of (Y/n)’s mouth, the blond was on his slow descent to thinking that he was going crazy with pleasure.

His head was already spinning from the sensations, and she had barely even taking his cock.

But when she swallowed around his tip, before circling her cool tongue around the crown of his cock, he felt his fingers curling into her hair. Hell, he had barely even managed to look up at the security camera perched on a light pole, as a warning for whoever was watching to turn away at that moment.

Slowly, pleasurably, (Y/n) kept taking more and more of Kyōjurō’s cock in her mouth— until she was all the way down to the hilt, with her nose pressed against his trimmed pubes.

And he thought that it couldn’t get any better than that, until she took the hand that was on his thigh to cup his balls and start fondling them.

His eyes almost rolled back into his head at that moment, as he threw his head back and lost himself to the heady feeling of her sucking him off; trying to bring him to the most intense orgasm that he was ever going to get from a blowjob.

Instead of trying to prolong his pleasure though, Kyōjurō began to gently rock his hips into (Y/n)’s face; breathing heavily and moaning aloud as he felt his orgasm crawling up on him.

“I’m cumming,” The blond whispered breathlessly, close to outright fucking his fiancée’s face, when she pulled his cock out of her mouth— leaving just the tip inside— before jerking her off with one hand.

All while the other one kept fondling his balls.

It was so heady that Kyōjurō could only cry out “Fuck, baby! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” as he spurted thick ropes of cum right on her tongue. She was white hot pleasure personified, and he was sure of it at that very moment.

Maybe he really couldn’t wait until the wedding night to have her again.

Especially when she made a show of popping her cock out of her mouth, and sticking her tongue out to show him his cum— before closing her lips and swallowing his thick seed.

“How did I get so lucky, princess?”

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