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moonybug444 · 10 months

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toxic!boyfriend connie who does not care!! even starts shit in front of his lil siblings :((

sunny n martin call you sissy🥹🥹n they call connie bubba!! tw both reader nd connie are lowkey abusive | name-calling | really toxic | reader may or may not be a cheater kinda left it at that.

you’re holding sunny’s tiny hand and adding the finally touches to her hello kitty themed nails, listening to her babble on nd on about this ‘cute boy from school’ n how her ‘hairs getting longer by the day’ n how shes just so excited to go shopping with you again.

you don’t mind though, in fact you love it. you’re glad she can pour her little heart out to you every once in a while when you come over. i mean she needs it, she’s technically always around boys. connie’s always got his friends over, n little martin—if not following connie around everywhere like a little puppy he’s at her hip yapping her ear off abt monster trucks and how he can do 3 pushups in a row now and as proud of him as she is, that’s definitely not what she wants to talk about.

she’s got a sparkle in her eye when you give her a cheery, ‘all done, girlfriend!’ and kiss her button nose.

she really does love you so much. she hates how mean connie can be to you sometimes.

no matter how much you try and hide it, she sees right past you. always giving you love filled hug.

connie’s walking in his little sisters room a beat later, little martin right by his side with his wolf plushy in hand. chubby cheeks dusting pink when he sees you. he’s just too darn cute. connies looking down at you n sunny sitting crisscross apple sauce on her frog shaped carpet with little nail stickers n gems scattered around.

“there you are,” he runs his hand over his tanned face, “been tryna keep ‘er all to yourself huh, sunny?” sunny giggles loud at that, popping up cheerfully n stomping over to connie.

“look what sissy did to my nails bubba!” she waves them in his face, cheeks clubbing up even more when she sees him look down at the nails, going into weird big brother mode.

hes grabbing her under her armpits and twirling her in the hair screaming that now shes ‘of the hello kitty royal family’ shes smiling impossibly wider and laughs along with martin and you.

you love how connie’s siblings excepted you almost immediately. moving from first name basis to the occasional nickname and then the sissy title fairly quick.

love how sunny’s always the first one to greet you when you step in their cozy home dragging you along, trying to spend all her time with you.

love how martin is always so much of a ‘gentleman’ to you—connie says you’re his first crush. you cant help but smile at that. ‘he’s always blabbing about you,’ connie’s mocks his baby brothers high pitch voice. ‘when’s sissy comin over connie, i wanna show her my new toy.’ and ‘m’movin away…gonna live with sissy!’

that should be enough for connie. enough for him to stop the name calling around them and the random arguements. turn on his filter at least a little!! but nope doesn’t matter when or where, when connie springer has something to get off his chest.

he’s gonna get it off n not think twice abt it.

>_<

connies laughing. laughing at you. it’s not genuine at all, he’s just trying to tick you off but it sure is working. you feel your face burning with every cackle that leaves his pink lips. acrylic nails digging into the cute mini skirt you've got on out of embarrassment.

he’s been going at it for some time now. you were upset because in the middle of chilling in the living room on the couch with sunny n martin—ponyo replaying on the tv for the nth time, he snuck up behind you, watching you scroll on depop looking at some new bikinis for a second before swiping it right outta your hand.

thinking it was just connie being silly, you ask for it back with a pretty grin on your face and a faux pout on your shiny plump lips.

but why does he look so mean? whys he chastising you for wanting your phone back? whys he embarrassing you and implying that you're a cheater in-front of his baby siblings?

because connie was bored.

‘why ya want it back so bad?’ he’s taking the hand not holding your phone and rubbing over his shabby overgrown buzz, putting on a huge smile for you before making a show of dropping it meanly. ‘got shit to hide?’

of course you don’t! you’re a lot of things but a cheater is certainty not on of them. and you tell him that.

he doesn’t listen though. pushes you down by the shoulders harshly when you try to reach up for your device and tells you ‘and stay down.’ like your some kinda dog or somethin. that’s the stuff that brings tears to your eyes.

>_<

hes not laughing as much anymore now. just letting out little giggles and trying to catch his breath. “you’re a crybaby. over a fucking joke. seriously are you—”

you keep reminding yourself that sunny n martin are watching. that you’re already a sobbing mess and you don’t need to embarrass yourself further in front of them. but all that goes out the window when hearing connie’s boisterous laugh grow louder.

“s’not about that connie! hic you-you dont fucking respect me…!” it’s true he doesn’t. you can tell he’s not even really listening to you right now, scrolling through the insta messages on your phone.

“not a fuckin cheater huh? what’s up with all the boys in your phone then huh slut?” he’s ducking the marc jacobs bag you throw at him just barely. there’s more tears pooling at your lash line. “don’ call me names you stupid asshole!” you're stomping over to him to do..something! you don't know yet, just know you wanna hurt him.

it takes a while for you to calm. connie has to hold you down after you’ve thrown half the shit in his living room at him n delivered one harsh slap to his face and scratching him up a bit. he’s calling you all sorts of names in the process. ‘slut, dumb-bitch, whore’ names that had sunny covering her little brother’s ears. it doesn’t help.

little martin’s brows are furrowed when his little sister jumps at a loud crash—its connie pushing you into the freshly restocked dishwasher, he looks up at his big sister, a pout on her lips and her little fists clenched and tucked to her sides.

connie tells them not to call anyone bad words. and if they do they’re reserved only for bad people. so martins confused.

“s’wrong sunny, big sissy’s not bad.”

>_<

you’re in connie’s room now, sitting on his bed watching him watch you. you look down.

you’ve calmed down but your still crying. connie’s wiping at your face and cooing at you. you feel your nails tighten in your skirt. he still has your phone—satisfied with the mini insta check he did—he placed it in the band of his boxers for now, he’ll check it better later. right now he needs to pacify his baby.

“s’just n-n-not fair hic connie..you take- hic take mine whenever, but hic m’not even allowed yours..” you’re nervous more than you should be, slowly looking up at his handsome face preparing for the worst. he’s already looking down, pulling you further in his lap. making sure to press a few kisses to your forehead.

“dont you ever do some shit like that in front of my siblings again,” he’s huffs, completely disregarding what you said. you wince when he’s tightening his grip on your hips and snarling at you, getting real close to your face, “all because you wanna be a fucking drama queen, you ruin the whole fucking day.”

you’re mad at him, so mad you cant help but start crying. again. you’re telling him how you didnt ruin the whole day..but your brains tellin you otherwise. theres snot coming down your nose when you tell him sorry and how you’ll never make a fuss about it again.

youre getting up heading to sunny and martin who are sitting in the kitchen, waiting for you n connie to come out the room holding hands like always.

but it’s just you with dried tears and a soft pout on your face. you’re bending down in front of them and they’re immediately pulling you into a calming hug.

>_<

you’re sleeping soundly in connie’s bed, pretty french toes peaking out of the big dark blue comforter draped over you. connie took a shower with you after completing ponyo again with sunny and little martin. you felt sleepy so he took you to his room and kissed you goodnight, promising your phone would be next to you when you woke up.

>_<

connie’s in the kitchen fridge door wide open with nothing but his plaid blue pj pants, drinking some of that good flavored coffee creamer n scratching the toned abs on his tummy, fully expecting everyone to be sound asleep. so he’s confused when he hears tiny feet running up to him followed by painless stomping on his sock clad foot. he looks down. oh, his baby brother.

he’s angry. little fist bunching up around his wolf plushy. trying to look as intimidating as possible.

“connies mean!” hes got tears in his eyes just thinking about it, “made sissy cry, s’not like a gentleman at all,” he puffs out. says ‘gentleman’ like ‘ganndleman’ and connie cannot take him fucking serious.

“alright,” he says it with a huff. lifting his wounded baby brother right off the ground, nd on his hip watching him thrash around. trying his best to hurt connie. “quit it.”

it doesn’t take long for the big boy facade to drop when connie’s rubbing his back and turning on ‘ponyo’ yet again. s’really the only movie he’ll watch. they’re chilling on the couch while martins’ sucking his thumb staring up at connie. connie’s used to his baby brothers weird habits. like staring at him 24/7 and gravitating towards connie every time he’s working out.

plopping his butt down on his brothers back when he sees him get in a push-up position.

“bubba why’d ya call sissy all those mean names,” he’s popping his fingers out his mouth, “said s’only for-for mean people..sissy’s not mean. sissy’s nice.” connie’s ruffling his head.

“s’cuz bubbas’ dumb sometimes.” he’s taking a breath. choosing his words carefully. “y’know i make mistakes too. (name) forgives me though so—”

“papa says that you learn from mistakes—”

“i have learned marty—” connie feels his brows getting pulled up.

“why do ya keep doin em them silly!” martins giggling at his brother. he doesn’t know how it’s possible—making the same mistake not once or twice but more time than he can count and still not catching up.

and connie doesn’t either.

#toxic!connie #aot connie #connie x reader #connie springer #connie springer aot #tw toxic relationship #tw toxicity #toxic!reader #was looking at pictures of sunny n martin n omg #theyre so cute #🥹🥹🥹

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nvmadic · 10 months

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hi charlie :) just thinking about stargazing with best friend! schlatt and sharing your first kiss with him under the stars🥹

-stella <3

hi stella, i order you and this prompt.

he was bored and decided to pick you up in the early hours of the morning. he was busy with moving so he ended up picking you up in a small truck which he was using to pack up his furniture.

it was kind of old, the leather seats worn and there was a strange lingering smell which you both laughed about the entire journey, but the aux cable worked and that's all he cared about.

you grabbed some snacks from a gas station and pulled off on a dirt road away from the noise of the busy roads, into a small cluster of fields with trees. no light pollution to obscure the view of the dark navy sky above.

he had packed some blankets and laid them out in the bed of the truck for you to both lie down in with your snacks, just watching the sky whilst you both rambled about life.

both pointing out constellations, looking up at the different shapes the stars were making. all the while, you could feel his eyes boring into the side of your head whilst you looked up at the sky.

every time you'd turn to look at him, he'd sheepishly return his gaze to the stars. his gaze distant, almost as if he was lost in his own head.

there was a long silence, his mouth agape for a moment or two as if it seemed like he was unsure whether he should say what he wanted or not.

"the sky's pretty," he started softly which you nodded to, "but, god, you're just as gorgeous."

you turned to him unsure of how you should feel. sure, you were best friends and there was flirtatious banter but he had never sounded so serious.

he watched you intently, his face calm but there was an explosion of anxiety swelling beneath the surface as he awaited your response.

you didn't say anything, you just edged closer to him and pressed your lips against his, cupping his cheek. his hand eventually and instinctively found its place on the small of your back as he pulled you closer.

the kiss seemed to last a lifetime, you could even feel your own stomach knot, adrenaline rushing through every vein of your body. maybe you didn't put much thought into kissing him but it just felt so right.

pulling away to look at his content face, smiling from ear to ear. trying to subdue how excited he was, but he couldn't because he was just so happy.

"you've no idea how long i've wanted to fuckin' kiss you," he mumbled softly, allowing your head to rest on his chest which was thumping at a million miles an hour.

#stella #asks #jschlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #schlatt x you #schlatt imagine #schlatt hcs #jschlatt hcs #jschlatt fluff #schlatt fluff #jschlatt imagine

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bearsbeetsbeskar · 9 months

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Somebody to Heal, Somebody to Hold

(Joel Miller x dispensary! reader)

Chapter 3: Blue Dream

Chapter 1 here || Chapter 2 here || Main masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x dispensary! reader, AU (no outbreak) Word count: 4.7K Rating: 18+ MDNI, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut), swearing, discussions of drug use, discussions of disordered eating, age gap (reader is early 20s and Joel is late 40s) Summary: Joel can't rely on pills anymore for his back pain, so his doctor prescribes him medicinal marijuana. But he's not happy about it.

A/N: It's here y'all! Peepaw got high, and now he has the munchies. For food, as well as for the reader 🌚. This chapter was so fun to write, I loved fleshing out their progressing relationship. PEEPAW gets teased endlessly for being old (I couldn't resist), and he gains a smoking buddy 🥹. As always, thank you to my main hype woman, my ride or RIDE, @iamasaddie for beta'ing. Your excitement and support means the world to me!

Please comment and reblog if you liked it and want to see more of this series! I'm so in awe and appreciative of all the lovely comments and support I've received so far, you guys keep this story going!

❤️ 🌹 - N

In the midst of smoking with Joel, you had forgotten how long it had been since you last ate. The rumbles coming from his stomach reminded you pretty quickly though. You hum and chew the inside of your cheek as you think of possible food options to satisfy the munchies.

Although pretty much anything tastes better when you’re high, thanks to the way that THC heightens your senses, especially taste, you want to get something he will like. You’re not sure why you care so much but you want him to enjoy it, as part of his first smoking experience.

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you start to scroll through UberEats to see what’s in the area.

“Feel like eating anything in particular?”

Joel purses his lips together and hums. “Not really, I ain’t picky.”

You’re inclined to believe him but you still wanna mess with him, just a little bit.

“Ouh, there’s this really good vegan place in town that has good reviews and lot’s of options!” You look at him sideways and raise your eyebrows.

“Uh,” He grimaces slightly before he can school his expression, “sure that sounds-”

“I’m just fucking with you Joel” You lean in to shove him again as giggles start bubbling up from your chest. “I’d never eat that shit either, I love real food and meat too much to give it up”

“Thank fucking God,” he breathes out and runs a hand over his face. “I can’t stand it, everything is vegan this, vegan that. What happened to normal real food?”

You snort in response, still scrolling. And then something catches your eye.

“Oh shit! Apparently there’s a food truck festival happening at Bellwoods Park, just a couple minutes from here. There’s lots of different vendors, and it’s probably a lot cheaper than ordering take out. We’ll have to walk over but it’s not too far”

“Yeah, I’m up for that.” He perks up a bit and smiles at you.

No less than 20 minutes later you and Joel arrive at the food truck festival. You’re immediately surprised by how cozy and ambient it is. There’s numerous picnic benches in the middle of the grassy area and a few carnival games on the far end of the field for the kids. Twinkle lights are strung like a canopy over the entirety of the park, casting a molten amber glow over the festivities, complementing the warm hues of paper bunting strung from vendor truck to truck. People flock to the vendor trucks flanking the outside of the park perimeter. The smell of various fried foods and grills being fired up has your mouth watering and stomach growling again.

“Huh.” Joel whistled lowly, taking in the surroundings. “Been here for almost 20 years and I didn’t know this existed.”

“It looks like a seasonal thing that the city puts on every year, maybe there’s just more hype around it this year.” You surmise, following his gaze and looking around. “That or you just live under a rock.” A smirk sprawls across your face as you look back at him.

He huffs out an exhale. “Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that.”

“Well, now’s your chance to explore,” gesturing to the lineup of trucks. The various vendors sell everything from shaved ice to burritos, to Korean bbq and Philly cheesesteak sandwiches. The options are endless. You’re about to suggest something to him when one truck in particular catches your eyes.

“Oh my god, Smashburgers!” You make a beeline for the food truck, not even waiting to see if Joel follows you. The smell of charbroiled meat and greasy french fries fill your nostrils, creating another twinge of hunger in your stomach. It’s been ages since you had a good burger, and Rick’s Smashburgers was the best in town, you weren’t about to pass it up now. Sensing Joel’s broad presence approach your right side before you can turn around, you nod your head towards the menu plastered on the chalkboard against the side of the truck.

“Ricks has the best burgers in town by far. Trust me.”

“Smashburgers? How are they any different from regular hamburgers?”

“They’re just better in general” you answer him as if it was obvious. He raises an eyebrow at you. “The patties are basically flattened or smashed and it makes them crispier and just better overall. Trust me.” Giving him your most pleading look, he sighs and looks at the menu, and then at the plates of burgers lined up at the window to be given to customers.

“They do look pretty damn good. Only-” he shifts his jaw and hesitates, “my doctor told me to stay away from red meat, and eat more veggies,” he grumbles defeatedly, staring at the menu like he wanted to burn a hole in it.

You frown for a split second but it slowly morphs into a smile. Joel Miller is cute when he is grumpy. And for whatever reason, it actually warms your heart that he’s trying to be compliant with his doctor's orders. Still, you nod.

“Okay, well, we could always get something else. Althoughhhh” you pause for dramatic effect, “technically the burgers are thinner than regular burgers so there is less meat, and there’s lettuce and tomatoes on the burger.” You look sideways at him but he’s already shaking his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Who woulda thought I’d experience more peer pressure for eatin’ a burger than smokin’ weed. Jesus, I’m losin’ it.” The smile turns into a grin and there’s a glimmer in his eyes.

“Sure darlin’, a smashburger sounds good.”

—---------------------------------------------------------

If anyone had told Joel that in his lifetime he would eventually find himself at a festival surrounded by throngs of people, after smoking weed for the first time, with a woman he had just met, he would have told them to fuck right off.

All because of his back pain. His godforsaken back pain.

Admittedly, he had no idea what to expect when you said you would come over to show him how to smoke, but he definitely said a silent prayer when you offered, seeming to understand that the whole situation was embarrassing for him. You were so nice and personable. Just like you had been the day before when he came into the dispensary like a lost puppy.

The irrational part of him wanted to believe that you were just pitying him. Pitying a helpless middle aged man who’s geriatric aches and pains were running him into the ground. But your patience with him and calm reassurance about his concerns dismantled that theory. That, and the fact that you offered to come over after you got off work, during your free time. It didn’t seem like you were getting commission from going above and beyond with your customer service skills at the dispensary. What business would you have hanging out with a man who was at least two decades older than you?

Joel wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t blind to your beauty. Despite the playful banter you shared with him, and your wandering gaze that he caught dipping down to his lips and his body, he knew that he wouldn’t have a shot in hell with you. Regardless, he was buzzing with nervous energy when you knocked on his door.

Surprisingly, the actual smoking wasn’t as bad as he anticipated. Marijuana smoke tasted somewhat better than cigarette smoke. Weird, but better. The tang of the herb settled on his taste buds more easily than nicotine did during that one time he tried it all those years ago.

It was actually enjoyable if he was being honest with himself. Although, he’s not sure if that’s because of your added presence or the weed actually doing its job. The monotony of inhaling and pulling from the joint, holding his breath for a few seconds and then exhaling slowly became muscle memory. The THC settled into his bloodstream as he felt the mellow warm buzz permeate his body and seep into his bones. The once aching flare of pain that was his constant companion no longer reared its ugly head, as he stretched beside you on the couch. He genuinely couldn't believe it.

He anticipated he would cough up a lung at one point or another, which he did. And he anticipated the back pain would be subdued, which it was. You also warned him of dry eyes and cotton mouth once the marijuana took effect in his system. Nevertheless, he’s caught off guard when his mouth goes bone dry and his eyes glaze over as he watches you do that trick.

The french inhale.

Seemingly mesmerized by the way the smoke pours out of your lips like viscous liquid, and the way you inhale it through your nose again, he all but loses it when you show him how to do the smoke rings. The way your plush lips pout, forming an O shape as you push the smoke out of your mouth, your cheeks slightly hollowed. You’re so close beside him that he can faintly smell the tropical notes of your shampoo and see the glassiness in your doe eyes when you smile at him.

It’s the cruelest form of torture, he surmises. You're the sweetest siren, making the simplest gesture look sexy as hell.

Caveman brain bouncing off the walls as he flexes his thighs, his left hand remains in his lap over his crotch while he curls his right hand into a fist. The sting of his nails digging into his palms keeps him tethered to reality, while he tries to ignore how tight the crotch of his pants are.

But fuck, it’s a challenge when you keep looking at him like that, with a Cheshire cat grin plastered across your face.

His lust is interrupted soon enough when he feels his stomach let out the loudest rumble. And to his surprise your smile only gets wider in response.

It’s almost the same smile he’s witnessing in this moment, as he watches you take another big bite out of your burger and moan, almost pornographically.

You both get burgers and decide to split some french fries for good measure. Nevermind the fact that you asserted, "a good burger isn't complete without a side of fries."

Trusting your judgment, Joel orders the same as you; a smashburger with crispy onions, lettuce, tomato, cheese and their special house BBQ sauce. Only no pickles for him, and extra bacon, cause why the fuck not?

Technically he’s following the doctor's orders. He’s already smoked the weed. The low cholesterol diet can start tomorrow.

The burger is delicious. Like ridiculously delicious.

“Damn” He says in between the first couple bites, “this is fucking good. Best burger I’ve had in a while actually.” Humming in agreement, you pop a couple fries in your mouth.

“I know right? I told you. Better than regular burgers.”

They’re messy as hell but it’s worth it the minute the flavor of charred meat hits his tongue, the crispiness of the onions, coupled with the special sauce creating a mouthwatering combo.

You finish your burger at an alarming pace. Popping the last bite into your mouth, you grab a handful more of fries, dunking them into some ketchup.

Christ, he thought he was hungry. You must have been starving considering it had been well over 5 hours since your lunch break. Before you can shove the fries in your mouth, you pause and raise your eyebrows at his ogling.

“What?”

“Nothing.” When you look at him expectantly he shakes his head. That small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just surprised you have a big appetite, s’all.”

Somewhat bemused by his words, you tilt your head.

“Most women I know, they just eat salads and healthy crap. Always watching their weight and being picky with their food.” He smirks, nodding his chin towards your plate. “It’s just nice to see a woman who can actually throw down.”

Shaking your head, you snort. “Please, life is too fucking short to deprive yourself and worry about the shit you eat. I’d rather die with a full belly of food that I enjoy than eat like a rabbit.”

At that he lets out a loud guffaw. Not only do you have a decent appetite but you also got quite the potty mouth on you. He shouldn’t find that so attractive but he does.

“Also,” you flippantly wave a fry around in your hand, gesturing to the near empty tray of food sitting on the table between you two, “who wouldn’t want to eat when the food is this fucking good?”

Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he rolls his shoulders back and reclines in his seat with a wink. “Can’t argue with that logic darlin’.”

Over the next hour or so, you get to know bits and pieces about each other while picking at the remainder of fries. Bouncing between topics, from food to work, to each other’s personal histories. Joel learns that your favorite food is pasta, grinning at you while you go off on a tangent about how pasta should be included as one of the main food groups. Doesn’t matter what kind of pasta, just pasta.

His favorite meal is anything home cooked and southern. Of course, nothing beats a good old sirloin steak with roasted potatoes. He’s a sucker for cornbread too. Sweet desserts are his weakness he reveals, but he never usually gets them for himself, only bringing home treats when he knows his daughter Sarah will be in town. When Sarah isn’t home he’s usually at the mercy of fast food joints due to his work hours, “hence the high cholesterol,” he grumbles.

That leads him to tell you about Sarah, how long he’s been in Austin, his job as a contractor. In return you tell him about going back to school and getting the dispensary job through Stef, just to have some money on the side.

“I needed to throw myself into something after my ex and I broke up.” You sigh defeatedly and cross your arms, elbows resting on the table as you look down. “Naturally, I figured going back to school and getting a job would be the solution, only now it feels like I’m barely keeping my head above water.”

At that confession, Joel raises his eyebrows in disbelief. Guilt and shame wash over your features. It makes him frown, his eyebrows pinching together. Sadness isn’t a good look on you, and even though he’s known you for less than a day, he doesn’t like seeing that look cloud your face.

“Fuck him,” he quips, “his loss.”

Huffing out an exhale, you fiddle with a crumpled napkin on your side of the tray. Ripping up small bits of the crinkled paper and rolling them between your fingers. “You don’t know the whole story.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Doesn’t matter, still sounds like he lost out.”

When you don’t look up at him, just continuing to rip up the napkin, biting the inside of your cheek, his voice softens.

“Sorry. It’s none of my business,” he backtracks, “you don’t have to tell me.”

At that you finally look up at him, “no, it’s okay Joel. Really. It’s been a while since we split.”

He nods slowly, waiting for you to continue.

“In the end we both wanted different things. He was ready to settle down, get married, buy a house, and start popping out kids. It took me a while to realize that that was far from what I wanted.” You stare off to the side, watching the kids at the far end of the field run throughout the maze of festival games.

“I guess you could say we split amicably, but we were together for a long time," you continue on. "When it was over he didn’t hesitate to tell me that I would never find someone like him, that I’ll never find someone who would love me as much as he did, and how he did so much for me, blah blah blah. That kinda bullshit” You chuckle hollowly, folding your arms across your chest.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes again, silently cursing at the asshole who managed to convince you that you wouldn’t find someone better.

Wishful thinking claws at his chest as he swallows. He knows he probably wouldn’t be that much better for you either. You’re warm, caring, funny, gorgeous with a sharp wit that he finds painfully endearing. Who wouldn’t want you?

He swallows before he speaks up again. “It happens that sometimes people grow apart, realize they have different values and want different things. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. It hurts but better you figure it out now rather than later. I learned that the hard way,” he says with a regretful smile.

You shake your head, giving him an out before he says anything else. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Nah, it was a while ago. A long time ago. My ex and I, we had Sarah when we were real young.” He chuckles without any mirth. “Young and dumb. We had no idea what we were doing, but we both knew deep down it wouldn’t work. I was working ridiculous hours to make ends meet for us and she wasn't happy about that. We realized how different we truly were and figured it was for the best that we split.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” There’s concern in your eyes but you give him an empathetic smile. “But in the end, you got Sarah, right?”

Exhaling deeply, he nods and smiles softly. “Yeah. Thank God. She’s my whole life honestly. Gives me a reason to get up in the morning. She’s crazy smart, sometimes too smart for own good, but she has a heart of gold. Always wanting to help out others.”

He stares off into space, recalling his daughter's bright eyes, halo of curls, and her wide grin. God he missed her. It’s only as he’s telling you this does Joel realize that he doesn’t really have a life outside of Sarah. She’s not at the age anymore where she needs constant care, she’s independent and living away from home. The only people he really sees regularly are Tommy, when he deigns to drop by the house, or when they work jobs together, and the guys on his team. But outside of work? He doesn’t really do much of anything or see much of anyone. It dawns on him that he leads quite the obstinate life.

“You mentioned she’s away at college?” Your question pulling him out of his placating thoughts.

“Yeah, she started last semester. She comes home when she has breaks and during holidays. It’s quiet without her around.” He isn't aware of the somber look that washes over his face, but you quickly pick up on it.

“I’m sure she misses you just as much.” You look at him earnestly and give him a small smile.

He scoffs, “yeah right,” leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s living that freshman life. Classes, studying, partying,” he adds the last part hesitantly, with a bit of a bite. “She ain’t thinking about her old man too much.”

Clicking your tongue, you give him a reprimanding look. “You keep saying you're old Joel but that’s a fat lie.”

He goes to interrupt you but you hold your hand up in front him. “I saw your driver's license back at the dispensary Joel. You’re not old. Just because you’re over 40, doesn’t mean you’re a fucking fossil. C’mon.”

Seemingly accepting that he won’t be able to win this argument with you, he huffs and smirks, his arms still crossed over his chest.

“Whatever you say darlin’”

At that, you bite your lip and look down. The small terms of endearment fluster you. He likes seeing you flustered.

You pull your phone out of your pocket to check the time, and he feels himself deflate at the notion that you would have to go and that this night would come to a close. He hopes that you won’t tell him that you have to go. Already anticipating that disappointment he clears his throat and starts to stack the garbage on top of your tray.

“I’m pretty stuffed after the burger. Wanna walk around for a bit? See what else is around here.” You bite your lip, gauging his response.

Trying not to sound overly eager and excited, he smiles. “Yeah alright.”

No less than 30 minutes later, he finds himself strolling beside you around the perimeter of the festival lawn, a cup of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream in his left hand, while you both take turns scooping spoonfuls.

The tips of his fingers prickle from holding the frigid paper cup as he hums around another spoonful. “Chocolate chip cookie dough is okay, but I still think maple pecan is better,” he grumbles.

You groan. “Ugh, I’m not getting into this again Joel,” glaring at him out of the corner of your eye as you lick the back of your spoon. “I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt with the whole old man thing but maple pecan is an old man flavor. Sorry not sorry. You might as well suck on a Werther’s candy”

“Jesus,” he scoffs. “A Werther’s original? Why don’t I just put on some suspenders, get some bifocals, and sit in the park with the paper every morning.”

“Mmm, you never know. I think bifocals would really suit you,” Your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek. Giggles bubbling up in your chest, while Joel shakes his head.

“I’m just saying, even plain vanilla would have been a better choice. A redeemable choice. Maple pecan is almost as bad as..” you wrinkle your nose while thinking of a comparison, “rum and raisin.”

Just as you go to scoop another spoonful out of the cup, Joel stretches his left arm up and back behind him, holding the cup out of your reach. You don’t bother to jump up to reach the cup as He shamelessly enjoys the sight of how he dwarfs over your tiny frame.

“Hey! Joel-”

He says your name in return solemnly, but the corners of his mouth curl upwards ever so slightly. “You take that back right now. That’s a classic.”

“It has raisins in it! You can’t be serious! Dried up grapes have no business being in ice cream man, it’s criminal.” You huff out a breath and look up at him in exasperation.

“Didn’t know you were so passionate about ice cream.” He has a shit eating grin on his face at this point. Completely enamored by how cute you are when you’re annoyed. He can’t help but tease you a bit more.

“You know I was havin’ a real good time tonight darlin’ but that’s my last straw.”

Rolling your eyes, you smirk. “Just like that huh? You’re stone cold Joel Miller. Alright then, but good luck finding another smoking buddy who can teach you really cool tricks”

At that, he relents. Dropping his arm back down to his side.

“Smoking buddy?”

You’d want to smoke with him again?

The term you coined has his mind melting into mush, and his stomach doing flips at the possibility of seeing you again.

“You’d wanna do this again? I mean- you'd want to smoke together?” He asks pensively, his amber eyes rounded as he looks down at you.

“Yeah,” you peek up at him through your lashes. “Why not? I’m always down to smoke. Plus I still gotta teach you how to roll your own joints, and maybe how to do some tricks as well.”

Winking at him you add on, “save you some money so that you don’t have to keep coming to the dispensary for your pre rolls.”

He presses his lips into a thin line before he can spit out the Pavlovian response on the tip of his tongue. Joel knows he would have come to the dispensary anyway to see you, regardless of if he was going to buy anymore weed. Hell, he would use any excuse he could to see you again. But he decides against telling you that.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, and licking his lips, his mouth opens slightly as his gaze dances across your face. From your eyes, down to your lips, and back up again. You’re so close. So close he could reach out, curl a finger into one of your belt loops, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush.

“I’d really like that darlin’”

You tilt your head and gaze up at him. “Good.” You glance briefly at your phone and frown. “I do have to go now though. I’m opening at the dispensary tomorrow so I should get some sleep. As should you,” you give him another playful shove, “old man.”

He grumbles in response.

You exchange numbers before heading your separate ways, sending him off with a warm smile. The same smile you greeted him with when he first stepped into the dispensary and nearly had a panic attack. “This was fun Joel. Text me next time you wanna smoke.”

Pausing for sec and squinting your eyes in mock concern, you ask him “Wait, you do know how to text right?”

You attempt to bite back a laugh with no success as he swats at you like a fly, and you jump backwards, dodging the swipe of his big hands. “Yes little miss, I know how to fuckin' text.” He makes a noise of disapproval and narrows his eyes at you. "Cheeky."

You’ve only known him for less than 24 hours and you already know how to push his buttons.

Though he's not really annoyed in the slightest. He allows it. What's more is that he actually likes it. Really likes it. The playful banter and flirting that you throw his way, he’s more than happy to return it.

Your chuckles die down. “Alright alright, just checking, relax.”

You send him a quick text with your name, and his phone pinging right away.

“I’ll see you around Joel.”

“See ya around darlin’” He drawls with a grin as he watches you turn to leave.

There’s a pep in Joel’s step as he walks back home. Contentment mixed with anxious excitement. The effects of the high have faded quite a bit, and his head clears as he continues down the sidewalk to his house. He’s pretty happy. Unreasonably happy for someone who just spent the evening with a woman he barely knows. But he felt like he got a deeper glimpse into who you are. What’s more surprising is that he wants to know more. He wants to know more about you. Wants to do more things with you.

Do more things to you.

But again, he keeps that to himself for fear of ruining whatever is slowly building between you two.

Trudging up the porch stairs, he glances at his watch.

10:02 p.m.

He considers texting you to see if you got home safe.

No. He didn’t need you thinking he was a desperate creep. As he crosses the threshold and closes the door behind him, he leans back against it, his head thudding against the wood.

Just then, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, the familiar ping sound resounding through the empty front hallway of his house.

[You]: “Hey! Just wanted to make sure you got in okay, seeing as it’s much past your bedtime 👴🏼”

Huffing out a chuckle, he rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the flutter in his chest that you texted him first. His fingers fumble as he squints at the screen to type out a response.

[Joel]: “Could say the same for you. What happened to getting sleep because you work early tomorrow?”

He could leave it there and just see what you say. But the excitement from the evening as well as simmering current of lust running through his body has him feeling bold. He wants to push a little bit more.

[Joel]: “Naughty girl.” He bites his lip before hitting send.

The three little dots appear and reappear a handful of times as you start to type and then stop.

Shit. Was that too far? Did he just fuck up any chance he had at seeing you again because he has no self control? Probably. It was so hard to restrain any sort of control when you made it so easy to tease back. Your playfulness and doe eyes are a wicked force to be reckoned with, and it only made Joel want you more.

Waiting for you to text him back and tell him to fuck off, or politely shut it down, his mouth gapes open when you do finally respond.

[You]: “Never said I was a good girl 👀”

He exhales harshly. “Fucking hell.” His fingers tapping furiously as he sends the next message.

[Joel]: “That so? I don’t believe that. You’ll have to prove me wrong next time darlin.”

Your response comes lightning fast. Nothing else aside from a series of suggestive emoji's.

[You]: Goodnight Joel 😈 🍃 🔥 💨

Joel clenches his jaw and exhales deeply. He shoves his phone back in his coat pocket, and rubs his hand over his face.

What has he gotten himself into?

#weedpaw #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo

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hogans-heroes · 2 months

Note

Hello helloo, may I please ask for Demacon high school headcanons if you have any? 🥹💕

Oh my darling you have caused me to happily procrastinate all my tasks to think about this. I love them so much so of COURSE I HAVE HIGH SCHOOL HCS!

For some reason I like the idea of Benny calling Macon “Mac” or maybe he goes by that because Richard feels like his dad/grandpa and he’s heard enough Rick or Dick to be Over It.

Macon is somehow both in the cool kid crowd AND a huge brainiac that’s in all the science/math clubs. It’s unfair. That scene in MOTA where he stands to infodump very technical information and everyone turns to look at him? Yup. Cue Benny trying to hide that he’s smitten.

Benny is more quiet and not in the cool crowd, feels like he’d never have a chance with Macon. Macon travels the school with this flock of science gods (incl. Gale, Alex, Harry, etc) and they’re all so cool/fashionable but also really kind people and Benny is *gone*

Maybe Benny checks a couple physics books out of the library so he can have something to talk to Macon about…no one has to know (besides Curt who works at the library—he drew the short straw of the work/study program—and gave Benny the Look when he was getting the books).

Benny’s not exactly shy, he just doesn’t know how to approach Macon when he’s so starstruck

What he doesn’t know is that Macon is also harboring a crush on the sweet dark-eyed boy with the old truck and husky he treats like a child, thinks Benny is the most beautiful thing but can’t think of a way to approach

Then one morning when Benny takes Meatball to the park he runs into Macon on a jog or something (make it funny like Meatball charges him in excitement and knocks him into the lake) and Benny is mortified but Macon is laughing and cuddling Meatball while Benny simultaneously apologizes and tries not to melt and my dorm is right there do you need clothes, omg I’m so sorry. And Macon’s like well yes thank you I have class after this and then he walks into class wearing one of Benny’s distinctive shirts and everyone looses their shit. Forget trying to explain.

And well, Macon has to bring the clothes back sometime, and maybe would Benny want to go on morning walks more often (with Meatball of course)? They start hanging out and find out they have a lot in common

They can’t hide it at school because they’re giddy and in their own little world.

#mota #masters of the air #demacon #Macon x DeMarco #mota hs au #thanks for the ask!#Richard Macon #benny demarco #love them

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kingofbodyrolls · 21 days

Text

My heart's Home (m) | pjm | twenty [epilogue]

🐴Chapter summary: It’s been over two years since you and Jimin’s wedding. Now, a journalist wants to interview you to ask you some questions about a story you’re apparently part of.

🐴Chapter title: Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

🐴Chapter warnings: no much, it is pretty tame, the wildest thing is maybe the description of nursing a baby, so I would say it’s pretty tame + there is one ounce of violence (a slap). But also, mentions of pregnancy, car accident, fire, hurt and anger, but there’s also a lot of love 🥹

🐴Status: completed 🥳

🐴Word count: 7.4k

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

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

🐴Now playing 💿 “My Heart’s Home (Drover’s Run)” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?]

🐴Author’s note: hi everyone!!! I’m back with the epilogue/Q&A and it’s been almost a month?? What, how are you guys doing? I hope you’re still excited to read the ending for these lovely characters. It’s filled with some catching up and some much needed answers and truths we’ve been waiting for. Sadly, there weren't as many people participating in the Q&A as I anticipated, but it’s okay— I guess you guys are busy, and that’s okay! I did go through some of your questions from the comments and wrote those in a questions, because there was some that I never really answered, or was being vague about, because I didn’t want to spoil certain things in the story 🤭 But thank you so much to those who participated, I means the world to me 😭💖 Before you read, I want to explain that I wrote this epilogue/Q&A differently like the rest— it reads as a normal chapter, so the questions are weaved into the story, and I inserted myself into the storyline 😂 It was fun, but I really hope that I didn’t make it too weird! It got a bit meta and fourth walling, but I hope it’s okay. It’s just for fun and giggles!! I really hope you enjoy it, please let me know if you did, and thank you so much for reading ✨

Also, I did not proofread this, just because I’m being a bit lazy and I really want to get this out, and write other things 🙂

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

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist |

“The eyes of a childSee a long long waySee the future see the pastThey see everything first and last I was that childWho rode these hillsIn my dreams I see the starsIn my dreams I always will Ride these hillsSee in the morningI’ll hear the rain on the shedBut other stars and other sunsets will hang above my headThere will be different places different peopleBut I’ll still be the same” ‘My Heart’s Home (Drover’s Run)’ by Rebecca Lavelle

Your gaze flits between the secure baby seat nestled within the sturdy confines of Jimin’s truck and the warm, loving and protective gaze of his deep brown eyes, lingering on both with a silent question hanging in the air, “Do you think she’s alright back there on her own?”

His expression softens the moment your eyes meet his, a gentle reassurance emanating from his gaze as he rounds the truck. “Yes, my love,” he murmurs tenderly. “Is she still sleeping?”

With a fluid motion, he swings open the door and slides into the driver’s seat, the familiar click of the key finding its place in the ignition. Yet, instead of bringing the engine to life, he pauses, a moment of quiet anticipation hanging in the air before the journey ahead.

“Yeah, sound asleep,” you reply, a soft smile gracing your lips, your voice a blend of affection and weariness, the result of minimal sleep but an abundance of love—the kind that fills every tired corner of your being.

You steal a glance at your baby girl, nestled in serene slumber, her cherubic cheeks a mirror image of Jimin’s, her eyelids dancing with the rhythm of her gentle breaths. In this tranquil moment, her chest rises and falls in perfect harmony, a testament to the peace that envelops her. Despite the occasional cries born of hunger or discomfort, in these quiet moments, she embodies pure innocence and unfathomable cuteness.

She’s just a tiny two-month-old bundle of joy, still finding her way in the world—it’s only natural for her to fuss now and then. You press a delicate kiss to her rosy apple cheeks, ensuring not to disturb her tranquil sleep, before gently closing the door with a soft click. As you circle around the truck, slipping into the passenger’s seat beside Jimin, you can’t help but feel a surge of gratitude for this precious moment of family serenity amidst the hustle of life.

As you settle into your seat, a sudden impulse draws you closer to your husband, leaning across the console to steal a swift yet tender kiss from his lips—it’s a simple gesture, but one that carries the weight of your affection in every fleeting moment. With the engine humming to life beneath his command, the truck eases out of the yard and onto the winding road that leads into the heart of the town.

Heading into town for an interview feels like stepping into a surreal dimension.

The journalist’s call left you bewildered, grappling with the bizarre realization that your seemingly ordinary life isn’t quite what it seems—that it’s woven into some larger narrative that others find intriguing. The initial confusion still lingers, grappling with the surreal notion that your existence, though deeply felt and real to you, is merely a tale spun for others’ consumption.The questions they want to ask blur the lines between reality and fiction, leaving you questioning the very fabric of your existence. It’s a puzzling journey, navigating the complexities of a life that feels real to you, even if it’s just a story to others.

A whirlwind of questions swirls through your mind, each one more perplexing than the last, yet here you are, navigating the familiar main road into town alongside your beloved husband and precious baby—all tangible, all undeniably real in your heart. The comfort of their presence grounds you amidst the confusion, their warmth and solidity reassuring in a world suddenly tinged with uncertainty. Even the sight of the familiar cars ahead and the fleeting reflections in Jimin’s trusty blue truck mirrors offer a sense of continuity, a reassuring thread weaving through the fabric of your reality.

As Jimin guides the car through the winding roads toward town, a gentle melody fills the air, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. With your baby girl peacefully nestled in slumber, you lean back in your seat, surrendering to the soothing rhythm of the music. Closing your eyes, you allow the soft strains to lull you into a peaceful nap, trusting in Jimin's steady hands to carry you safely onward.

As consciousness slowly seeps back into your awareness, a gentle touch brushes against your cheek, coaxing your eyelids to flutter open. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, your gaze catches sight of a small trickle of drool escaping the corner of your mouth.

Rousing from your tranquil repose, a tender touch graces your cheek again, coaxing you gently from the depths of sleep. The soft warmth of your husband’s fingers brings you back to consciousness, accompanied by the endearing whisper of, “Wake up, beautiful.”

Despite the disheveled state of your appearance—drool tracing a path down your chin, eyes bloodshot from the relentless pursuit of precious sleep, and puffy lids resembling the aftermath of a surprise punch—his affectionate words infuse you with a warmth that transcends physical imperfections.

“I’m anything but,” you groan, the words heavy with self-deprecation, as you reach to unclasp your seatbelt, your gaze locking with Jimin’s comforting brown eyes, seeking solace in their warmth.

Cradling your face tenderly in his hands, Jimin’s touch is unwavering, disregarding the drool that lingers on his fingers as he gazes into your eyes, his own expression turning resolute. “To me, you’ll always be beautiful,” he asserts, his words carrying the weight of unwavering devotion. “Drool, puffy eyes, wild hair—it doesn’t matter. You’re perfect just as you are.”

A soft snort escapes you, but you can’t help but smile at his unwavering support. Lately, your self-doubt has been a relentless companion, haunting you with every imperfection and misstep. Yet, in this moment, Jimin’s earnest attempt to uplift you resonates deeply. Swallowing your protests, you offer him a gentle smile, a silent acknowledgment of his efforts. As he steps out of the truck to retrieve the baby seat, a sense of warmth fills the space between you, a silent promise of solidarity in navigating the complexities of parenthood together.

Stepping out of the car, you’re greeted by a heartwarming sight: a sea of familiar faces, friends, and family alike, their smiles beaming like beacons of love amidst the bustling parking lot. Waves of warmth wash over you as you take in the scene, their presence a comforting reminder of the support system that surrounds you on this journey called life.

Amidst the crowd, your gaze locks onto your sister, her once graceful stride now slightly altered by the burgeoning swell of her belly, a testament to the imminent arrival of new life. The closeness of her due date is palpable, casting a glow of anticipation around her. Beside her, Jungkook stands, his hands intertwined with those of their twin daughters, bubbling with youthful exuberance as they approach their second birthday. The scene before you is a vibrant tapestry of love, growth, and the boundless joy that comes with expanding family ties.

As you scan the parking lot, your eyes alight upon Ara and Tae, Soo-ah and Namjoon, Ha-rin and Jin, and Hobi and Yoongi, each couple intertwined in a tender embrace, hands clasped in a silent promise of solidarity. A smile tugs at your lips, a reflexive response to the infectious happiness radiating from your loved ones. The sight of their contentment ignites a warmth within your chest, a swell of love so profound it threatens to burst forth, filling every corner of your being with boundless joy.

With a sense of purpose, you swiftly retrieve your diaper bag, your steps falling in line behind Jimin and the rest of your beloved family as you make your way towards the imposing structure that houses the interview. The anticipation crackles in the air, mingling with the collective energy of your family, propelling you forward into the heart of the momentous occasion.

As you traverse the pristine white halls, the stark minimalism of the surroundings amplifies the gravity of the moment, each step echoing with a sense of purpose. Arriving in the expansive room bathed in soft light, your gaze sweeps across the array of neatly arranged couches and chairs, the anticipation building with every passing moment. Suddenly, your stomach clenches, and your grip on the diaper bag tightens involuntarily as you spot a familiar face across the room. A surge of conflicting emotions washes over you, your lips drawing into a tight frown as your eyes lock onto none other than Deiji.

Your mind races with a barrage of questions, each one more incredulous than the last. Why in the world is she here? How could she possibly be part of this interview too? Seated comfortably on the plush green velour chair, her demeanor exudes an air of calculated poise—her feet crossed neatly, her hair fashioned flawlessly into a high ponytail, every detail meticulously curated from her manicured nails to her impeccably applied makeup. The audacity of her composed smile, paired with her deliberate ignorance of your presence, sends a surge of indignation coursing through you. With a barely concealed scoff, you can’t help but brand her with the only label that seems fitting at this moment: a bona fide bitch.

Your attention shifts to the woman you presume to be the interviewer, her voluminous brown curls framing a face adorned with oversized golden glasses—a quirky yet endearing sight. With a welcoming gesture, she invites you to settle in and make yourself at home. Your eyes sweep over the table adorned with an assortment of beverages, from glasses of water to an array of sodas, teas, and coffee—an offering tailored to every preference. Nestling into the chair beside Jimin, your sleeping baby girl cradled safely nearby, you watch as Jimin delicately places the baby seat at your feet before reaching for a chilled glass of water, the cool condensation a refreshing relief against your fingertips.

As the rest of the gang settles into their seats, anticipation hangs heavy in the air, thick with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy. The woman with the oversized glasses offers a warm smile that barely conceals the flicker of apprehension dancing in her eyes. Your gaze drifts to the edges of her notebook, where her fingers fidget nervously, betraying the weight of the questions she undoubtedly holds within its pages.

“Hello, everyone! Thank you all for being here today. I’m absolutely thrilled to have you join us. My name is Lissa, and I’ll be guiding our conversation today. I’ve got a bunch of questions lined up that our readers are itching to hear your answers to. But first things first, how’s everyone doing? And just how long has it been since we saw you last?” Lissa’s voice rings out with genuine warmth, her smile radiant despite the subtle dance of nerves behind her glasses, which threaten to slide down her nose.

“We’re all doing good, thanks for asking,” you reply, a hint of playful skepticism lacing your words. “But as for ‘since we saw you last,’ well, that’s a bit of a puzzler. Our lives didn’t exactly wrap up neatly when your story did, you know?” The chorus of agreement from your companions echoes your sentiment, though a pointed scoff from Deiji punctuates the moment, serving as a stark reminder of lingering tensions.

“Oh, yeah. I get that,” Lissa says and you nod in understanding, observing the woman’s thoughtful pause as she considers her next words. Suddenly, a spark of realization ignites within her, and she bursts forth with newfound clarity. “Since the wedding between you and Jimin,” she announces, prompting a flood of memories to rush back as you mentally trace the timeline of events that have unfolded since that momentous occasion. The weight of time feels suddenly palpable as you ponder just how far you’ve journeyed since then.

“It’s hard to believe, but it’s been just over two incredible years,” your sister’s voice carries a soft undercurrent of awe, her smile radiating warmth as she lovingly caresses her burgeoning belly, a silent testament to the passage of time and the miracles it has wrought.

Lissa’s nod is accompanied by a soft, knowing smile that seems to acknowledge the weight of the question she’s about to pose. Her gaze sweeps over the group, each member holding a unique story within them, waiting to be unveiled. “So, what’s unfolded in your lives since then?” She inquires, her words carrying a sense of anticipation, as if she’s poised on the edge of a grand narrative waiting to unfurl.

As you cast your gaze over the familiar faces of your friends and family, a flood of memories washes over you, a tapestry woven with moments both poignant and joyous. The corners of your lips tug upward in a bittersweet smile, knowing all too well the magnitude of what has transpired since that pivotal day. “A lot has happened,” you begin, your voice laced with a mixture of nostalgia and excitement, “mainly good things—more weddings, new arrivals, and the beautiful chaos of growing families.”

“We tied the knot,” Yoongi interjects, a soft smile gracing his lips as he proudly displays his intertwined hands with Hoseok, the gleaming gold bands adorning their fingers catching the light in a dazzling display of commitment and love.

“It was just a small and intimate wedding,” Hoseok chimes in, his laughter dancing through the air like music, infusing the memory of their wedding day with an infectious warmth.

“Jessi and I had quite the surprise,” Jungkook shares, a chuckle escaping as he recalls the whirlwind of events. “Twins, out of the blue, and before we knew it, she was expecting again,” he adds, a sheepish grin accompanying the gesture of scratching the back of his head.

Jessi straightens, her eyes alight with a newfound excitement. “And this time,” she interjects, her voice brimming with anticipation, “we made sure to get an extra ultrasound. Just one baby this time, and he’s going to be a little boy.”

Their two daughters bounce around with infectious laughter, their giggles filling the room as they dart and weave around their father, vying for his attention with every playful leap and bound. Occasionally, they clamber over him, their small hands reaching out in a bid to capture his focus.

You can’t help but smile, reminiscing about the sheer shock and delight that washed over them when Jessi unexpectedly gave birth to twins. The incredulity of the situation still lingers, leaving you puzzled at how such a miraculous surprise could go unnoticed, even by the hospital staff.

“Seokjin and I,” Ha-rin begins to say with a playful wink, her eyes gleaming with pride as she shares their latest venture with the group. “We’ve taken the plunge into the culinary world—we’re running our very own catering business now,” she announces, the excitement palpable in her voice as she unveils their newest endeavor.

“We’re just enjoying each other’s company,” Namjoon remarks, his fingers intertwining with Soo-ah’s, eliciting a charming blush that paints her cheeks a delightful shade of pink.

“We’re also just taking it slow,” Taehyung chimes in, enfolding Ara in a tender embrace that speaks volumes of their affection.

“My life is good,” As Deiji’s words linger in the air, a heavy silence settles over the group, punctuated only by the soft rustle of shifting emotions. Your eyes narrow involuntarily at her assertion, a flicker of disdain tainting your expression. Memories of her past actions flood your mind, a reminder of the pain and manipulation she once inflicted on Jimin—and by extension, on you. Despite her attempt at casual indifference, the wounds she left behind still linger, a testament to the true depth of her betrayal and you don’t think you’ll be able to forget how much of a bitch she really is.

“That’s quite the journey. So much to unpack,” Lissa muses, her voice tinged with a blend of intrigue and anticipation. She pauses, allowing the weight of the moment to settle before continuing. “I’ve compiled a mix of questions from our readers and some of my own curiosities,” she explains, her gaze flicking down to her notepad briefly before lifting to meet your husband’s eyes with a subtle intensity.

“Jimin,” Lissa’s voice hangs in the air, drawn out slightly as if she’s grappling with the weight of the words inscribed on her paper. “One of our readers,” she continues, her tone delicately balanced between caution and curiosity, “expresses concern about the challenges you’ve put your wife through. They’re wondering what steps you’re planning to take to make amends.”

You turn towards Jimin, the air thick with anticipation as his expression shifts, caught off guard by the weight of the question. His lips part slightly, a silent testament to the thoughts racing through his mind, while the room holds its breath, waiting for his response.

“Well,” Jimin begins, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity as he addresses the room, “I’m fully aware of the pain I’ve caused with my actions and the misunderstandings that ensued. Every day, I’m committed to improving myself, striving to be the husband she deserves. I make it a point to express my gratitude and admiration for her, knowing that it’s the least I can do.” A warm smile graces his lips as he reaches for your hand, drawing it gently across his thigh. The strength and warmth of his touch convey a depth of emotion, his grip tender yet resolute as he intertwines his fingers with yours, a silent vow of his unwavering dedication.

With a soft smile, you shift your gaze towards Lissa, a glimmer of understanding shining in your eyes. “That’s all in the past now,” you affirm, your tone brimming with assurance. “Jimin doesn’t need to prove his love to me—I’ve known it all along. I forgave him a long time ago because our love is stronger than any mistake. We’re focused on moving forward together, embracing the journey ahead to discover our true greatness as a couple.”

Deiji’s scoff cuts through the air, prompting an exasperated roll of your eyes. Once again, you find yourself questioning her presence—why exactly is she even here?

“That’s wonderful to hear. I think that’s important,” Lissa interjects, her voice filled with genuine warmth and sincerity. A sudden shimmer in her eyes catches your attention, like glistening dewdrops on petals at dawn, revealing a depth of emotion akin to that of a proud mother watching her children thrive.

“Now, I have a question that might tread into uncomfortable territory,” Lissa begins, her gaze momentarily locking with yours before she shifts her focus downward, her nervousness palpable as she anxiously nibbles on her bottom lip.

Lissa’s cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson, the color spreading to the tips of her ears as she bravely lifts her gaze, her question hanging in the air like an electric charge. “Which brother do you think is best in bed?” She blurts out, her voice carrying a mix of trepidation and curiosity.

Your throat tightens, a sudden rush of disbelief threatening to choke you as you struggle to process Lissa’s audacious question. With eyes wide as saucers, you find yourself grappling with the sheer incredulity of her inquiry—could someone truly be bold enough to pose such a personal query? And why would the readers want to know that?

A sense of discomfort settles over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating any inclination to respond. With both Jimin and Jungkook within earshot, not to mention the rest of the company, the last thing you want is to entertain such a personal inquiry.

“Jimin won’t be hurt when you confirm it’s me,” Jungkook boasts with a hint of swagger, his words dripping with playful confidence. However, his bravado is swiftly met with a sharp glare from your sister, her jab to his ribs serving as a silent warning against his overzealous assertion.

You anticipate Jimin’s tension, bracing for the subtle shift in his demeanor, but to your surprise, he remains remarkably at ease, a picture of calm beside you. His tranquility mirrors that of your sleeping baby girl, nestled contentedly in her seat beside you.

“If I’m being completely honest, it’s my husband, Jimin,” you admit, a sense of relief washing over you as the truth spills from your lips. The mere thought of anything beyond your bond with him feels inconceivable, a testament to the strength of your bond. With a soft chuckle, you give Jimin’s hand a reassuring squeeze, grateful for his unwavering presence by your side.

Lissa offers you a sympathetic smile, though her flustered expression betrays lingering nerves, hinting that the next question may be just as probing as the last.

“That leads me to the next question. What where you thinking when you fucked Jungkook?”

You release a heavy sigh, your eyes rolling in disbelief. “Is this really what people are curious about?” You wonder aloud, your voice tinged with a mix of incredulity and resignation.

Lissa’s nod carries a weight of understanding, her eyes reflecting a hint of apology, as if she empathizes with the discomfort of the question she’s posed.

“I suppose, in hindsight, I wasn’t thinking at all, which was undoubtedly part of the issue,” you concede, a tinge of regret coloring your words. “Honestly, I wish it never happened,” you confess, your frustration with the probing questions bubbling to the surface. Today was certainly not the day you anticipated having to justify your past mistakes.

“Hey, don’t go hurting my feelings now. Just admit I was the best,” Jungkook quips once more, his tone laced with playful banter. You sigh, a mixture of exasperation and amusement washing over you at his persistence.

“No, Kook, you weren’t the best,” you assert firmly, your words carrying a weight of finality. “This isn’t a competition, and frankly, I think you should be content with the fact that my sister holds you in such high regard and thinks you’re the best fuck. I’ve heard you on multiple occasions now, and that should tell you enough,” you continue, your frustration evident in your tone. “I’ve heard enough on this topic, and for me, Jimin surpasses any comparison.” A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you plead, “Can we please shift gears and explore some other lines of questioning?”

You tenderly reach down for your baby girl, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you realize she’s been peacefully sleeping in her seat for far too long. With gentle hands, you unfasten her belt and lift her into your embrace, cradling her against your chest. You adjust yourself slightly, reclining back to ensure she’s nestled comfortably against you, her tiny form finding solace against the warmth of your bosom.

“Um, I’m afraid there’s one more question,” Lissa interjects hesitantly, her voice tinged with nervousness as she glances down at her notes once more.

“Then let’s hear it,” your sister interjects, her tone firm and resolute, a hint of irritation seeping through as she echoes your own sentiment toward the relentless questioning.

“Jungkook, which sister is best in bed?” The room plunges into a sudden, heavy silence, amplifying Lissa’s timid voice to a jarring level.

Jungkook meets your gaze with a flicker of resolve. “I’m sorry if this hurts, but it’s my wife,” he confesses, his words carrying a weight of honesty amidst the tension in the room.

You chuckle softly, the sound carrying a hint of lightness amidst the heavy atmosphere. “You’re not hurting my feelings, Kook,” you assure him with a reassuring smile.

Jimin’s chuckle joins yours, a familiar reassurance in the midst of an uncomfortable moment. This topic, though fraught with history, is one you’ve all navigated together before. Yet, beneath the surface, a pang of regret lingers, a reminder of the choices made in the past. You can’t help but feel a twinge of sorrow for the choice made that night, for not giving Jimin the opportunity he deserved, and instead sleeping with his brother. But as you glance at him now, your soulmate by your side, you find solace in the knowledge that history led you to where you are today.

“Alright, my apologies. That concludes the line of inappropriate inquiries,” Lissa announces, redirecting her gaze back to you and Jimin. “On a lighter note, our readers are curious: How many kids do you envision having?”

Jimin’s smile widens as he intertwines his fingers with yours, a gesture filled with warmth and reassurance. The prospect of children has been a frequent topic of discussion since your wedding day, and now, with your first child in your arms, you feel a surge of fulfillment—a sense of readiness to embrace the journey of motherhood even more.

“We’re still figuring it out. But we’ve always talked about having more than one, haven’t we?” Jimin’s gaze meets yours, a soft glimmer of affection dancing in his eyes, mirroring the unspoken bond between you.

“Yeah, two sounds perfect. Although, who knows? Maybe even more,” you muse, a fond smile gracing your lips as you envision the possibility of a larger family. “Our daughter is an absolute delight, taking after Jimin in the most adorable ways. The thought of more little Jimin look-alikes running around fills my heart with such joy,” you share, your voice tinged with affection. You choose not to dwell on the exhaustion or the moments of self-doubt, knowing that with Jimin by your side, you’re capable of anything—and that includes expanding your family and embracing the journey of parenthood together.

As you feel your baby girl stirring, her delicate eyes fluttering open with a soft whimper, you instinctively gather her close, cradling her against your chest. Sensing her hunger, you gently lift your shirt and unhook your bra, offering her the nourishment she seeks. With practiced ease, you guide her to your breast, feeling her tiny mouth eagerly latch on as she finds comfort in the familiar warmth and sustenance. As she begins to nurse, her cries gradually subside, replaced by a sense of contentment and peace, her small form relaxing against you as she drinks in the nourishing embrace of you.

“Have you settled on a name for her yet? I’ve noticed you don’t refer to her by name,” Lissa inquires, her gaze meeting yours with a gentle warmth reflected in her soft smile.

“We’re still undecided. Right now, we’re torn between Haneul and Isuel,” you share, a laugh bubbling up from within you as you exchange a glance with Jimin. Your smile stretches wide, the joy of the moment evident in your expression.

“Both of those are absolutely beautiful choices,” Lissa remarks, her own smile widening in genuine admiration.

“What’s your stance on pets, do you want one? Are you more inclined towards cats or dogs?” Lissa inquires, settling back into her chair with a newfound ease. Her earlier nervousness seems to dissipate, replaced by a sense of confidence that infuses her voice with a newfound steadiness.

“We’ve actually been frequenting the local animal shelter lately, eyeing some of the pups,” Jimin shares, his voice carrying a hint of excitement.

“But just one dog will do,” you interject with a chuckle, a fondness evident in your tone. You know Jimin’s affinity for dogs all too well—if it were solely up to him, your home would resemble a bustling kennel alongside a lively soccer team of children.

“Yeah, there’s this golden retriever at the shelter. We’ve got our hearts set on adopting him,” Jimin announces proudly, his gaze alternating between you and your baby still nestled against you.

“Saja, that’s his name. I just know he’ll be the perfect addition to our family,” you chime in, your voice brimming with affection as you steal a glance at your husband once more. There’s an undeniable warmth in your gaze, a testament to the endless love you hold for him.

“That’s intriguing. I’m nearing the end of my inquiries. This one’s directed at Taehyung,” Lissa announces, her gaze shifting towards Taehyung who appears taken aback, clearly not anticipating any questions directed his way today. “Our readers are curious about your activities during your initial visit to Bell Ranch—the one that unfortunately resulted in Jessi’s accident,” she explains, her tone gentle yet probing.

As Taehyung gulps audibly, the weight of the past looms heavy in the air, a stark reminder that despite the passage of years, the wounds from that incident remain tender for everyone involved.

Taehyung’s hand instinctively rises to scratch the back of his head, his gaze dropping to the floor below in a display of nervous tension.

“That was right after my father fell ill, and I discovered he wasn’t my biological father,” Taehyung begins, his voice tinged with a mixture of vulnerability and remorse. “I drove out here to see my half-brothers—I never imagined it could be true. Having brothers, another family I never knew existed. It’s been quite the journey. Challenging at first, but everyone has been incredibly welcoming, and now, I truly feel like a part of this family,” he explains, his words carrying the weight of sincerity. “I still carry deep regret for causing the accident, Jessi. It was never my intention. I was consumed by nerves and anger, a dangerous combination behind the wheel. I’m truly sorry.”

Lissa and everyone else nods.

“I drove up to the ranch and spotted both Jungkook and Jimin hard at work, but fear held me back from saying a word. I left, like a coward,” Taehyung admits, his voice tinged with regret as he recounts the memory. “For months, I wrestled with the daunting task of revealing myself, gathering the courage to step into a world I never knew existed. I had a hunch they were unaware of my existence too,” he adds, his smile carrying a bittersweet tinge of longing and acceptance.

“Thanks, Tae. But you know, we’re past that now,” your sister reassures him with a warm smile, her words carrying a gentle reminder that their past grievances have long been resolved.

Lissa’s smile softens into one of fondness. “I have two final questions that’s been burning on our readers’ minds,” she says, her tone hinting at the anticipation of unveiling something intriguing.

All eyes shift expectantly toward Lissa, the air thick with curiosity. With your baby girl finished feeding, you carefully adjust your shirt and lift her to your shoulder, patting her back to coax out the remaining burps. As she emits soft little sounds, you join the others in eagerly awaiting Lissa’s final question, a sense of anticipation hanging palpably in the air.

Lissa’s gaze flicks toward Deiji, a subtle shift that catches your attention, leaving you puzzled as to the sudden focus on her. With a quizzical expression, you arch an eyebrow, silently questioning the reason behind this unexpected gesture.

“Deiji, you misled us about the baby, claiming it was Jimin’s. Can you shed light on why?” Lissa’s tone holds a firmness that demands clarity.

Deiji’s head shakes firmly.

“I’d rather not say.” Her refusal carries an air of guarded secrecy, adding to the tension in the room.

Your blood churns with a mixture of anger and exhaustion. The truth seems elusive, buried beneath layers of deceit and manipulation. At this point, you’re past caring about her reasons; all that matters is the weight of her deception, pressing down on your patience like an unbearable burden.

Lissa’s voice cuts through the air with a sharp edge, commanding attention and respect. “You don’t get to evade this,” she asserts, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Deiji’s demeanor shifts, her body language a defensive barrier against the intensity of the moment, her arms wrapping around herself as if to shield against the barrage of questions and accusations.

“Fine,” she hisses, the word escaping through clenched teeth like a snake’s warning, her frustration evident in the sharpness of her tone and the subtle grit of her teeth.

“I was cheating on Jimin with my ex,” she confesses, her words dripping with shame and regret, each syllable heavier than the last. “He got me pregnant, and I knew Jimin wanted to start a family. But my ex... he’s not exactly father material,” she admits, her voice steady yet laden with the weight of her past mistakes.

“But why lie? Why not just tell the truth?” Jimin’s voice cuts through the tension, his tone laced with disbelief and hurt. His jaw clenches, knuckles white with the force of his grip.

Deiji scoffs, her breath heavy with frustration. “And what? Confess that I was cheating on you?” She shakes her head, her tone tinged with defiance. “Would you have wanted a child that wasn’t yours?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, a subtle gesture belied by the storm in his gaze. Despite the passage of years, the wounds of deception still sting as freshly as if inflicted yesterday. You understand his sentiment well: Jimin’s desire for involvement stemmed from a sense of duty and biological connection. Had Deiji been forthright from the beginning, he likely would have distanced himself from the child, especially considering their breakup and his commitment to you.

“It was easy. And I saw how you looked at her,” she points to you, her accusation slicing through the air like a dagger, “I knew you wanted her, bad. She took you from me. Coming back and announcing the baby, I knew I had you wrapped around my finger. I knew you’d choose a family, because you crave it so much. I hoped it would pull you away from her, and in the end, it did. But then you had to go back to each other again, so sickening.”

Jimin gapes, and so do you. You’re left speechless, grappling with the audacity of her words. You knew she lied out of jealousy, but to stoop so low— it’s beyond comprehension. God, you really despise this woman.

Lissa’s voice cuts through the air like a blade, her gaze fixed intently on Deiji again, her expression serious and unyielding. “Is this why you started the fire at Bora Ranch?” She demands, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the tense silence that follows.

A heavy silence descends upon the room once more, amplifying the tension as all eyes remain fixed on Deiji, who squirms uncomfortably under the scrutiny. Your brows furrow in concern as you observe her growing unease, noting the absence of any denial in her response. A sense of foreboding creeps over you as her fidgeting and nervous perspiration betray an unsettling truth: guilt hangs palpably in the air, casting a shadow over the room.

Deiji’s gaze averts, seeking refuge from the intensity of the scrutiny bearing down upon her. In this vulnerable moment, her once formidable demeanor begins to falter, unraveling before your eyes. The weight of accusatory stares renders her diminutive and fragile, a stark contrast to her usual air of confidence and strength.

“So?” Lissa’s voice cuts through the heavy silence once more, her tone firm and resolute, leaving no room for evasion or avoidance. With a piercing gaze, she awaits Deiji’s response, her expectation palpable in the charged atmosphere of the room.

As the seconds tick by stretching into minutes, each one laden with unspoken tension, Deiji’s continued silence becomes increasingly conspicuous. With each passing moment, the weight of uncertainty grows heavier, casting a shadow of doubt over the room. Your mind races, grappling with the unsettling realization that perhaps your suspicions were warranted all along. The absence of a denial speaks volumes, echoing your darkest fears with haunting clarity. You never wanted to entertain the possibility that Deiji could be capable of such an act, yet the chilling reality dawns upon you: people can harbor unfathomable depths, their actions often defying comprehension.

The seconds drag on, and a simmering anger begins to bubble within you, its intensity mirrored in the heightened tension radiating throughout the room. Each passing moment feels like an eternity, the palpable weight of unspoken truths hanging heavy in the air. You sense the collective unease of those around you, their alertness a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation. The once-airy atmosphere now feels suffocatingly dense, pressing down upon you like a heavy shroud. It becomes increasingly difficult to draw a full breath, as if the admission of truth from Deiji has robbed the room of its oxygen.

“Just tell the truth, dammit!” Jimin’s voice cuts through the tension like a thunderclap, his frustration palpable in the rigid set of his jaw and the clenched fists at his sides.

His sudden outburst startles you, your heart racing as you instinctively check if it has disturbed your sleeping baby. Thankfully, she remains undisturbed, cradled in peaceful slumber.

“I…” Deiji’s voice wavers, her expression a tumult of emotions—shame, guilt, and a flicker of disappointment, etched vividly across her features.

“I did,” she finally confesses, her voice barely above a whisper, shattering the silence like glass.

You rise from your seat, gently passing your baby girl into Jimin's waiting arms. With a sense of purpose, you approach Deiji, once a formidable presence, now visibly diminished in her chair.

Your blood is boiling, rage surging through your veins like a torrential river, and the world blurs into shades of red.

Standing before Deiji, she gazes at you with pleading eyes, as if begging for absolution. But forgiveness is a distant echo in your mind, drowned out by the roar of fury. Without conscious thought, your arm swings wide, propelled by an instinctual force, and your palm connects with the tender flesh of her cheek. The resounding crack of the slap is so fucking loud it reverberates through the room, jolting you into the stark realization that it was your hand delivering the blow.

Your hand throbs with the heat of the impact, a fiery reminder of the force unleashed.

Deiji’s silent tears blur the air, her trembling hand tenderly grazing the fiery red imprint on her cheek. Ordinarily, violence is an alien language to your spirit, but in the presence of this woman, it’s as if your very essence is twisted into a dark, unrecognizable form.

Yet, amidst the turmoil, there’s a raw truth: you feel no remorse for the eruption of fury that crossed the boundary into violence.

“You fucking bitch! How dare you do that! First, you rip Jimin’s heart to shreds with your deceitful, conniving ways. Then, you have the audacity to torch my home?!” The words tear from your throat, a primal scream echoing through the room, stirring the air like a tempest. Behind you, the scrape of chairs signals the tense energy of your friends and family, witnesses to your unleashed wrath. With eyes ablaze, you fixate on Deiji, your voice a snarl, a wild beast ready to pounce. You want her to feel your pain, to taste the bitterness that consumed you in those dark hours.

As you seethe with anger, ready to unleash another torrent of fury upon Deiji, a pair of firm, reassuring arms envelop you.

Instinctively, you lean into the embrace, finding solace in the strength of Jungkook and Yoongi. Their presence is a grounding force amidst the storm raging within you, a reminder that you’re not alone in this tempest of emotions. With their silent support, you draw a steadying breath, the heat of your rage tempered by their calming presence.

As your pulse thrums with the remnants of anger, Yoongi’s voice cuts through the tempest, a calm amidst the chaos, “She’s not worth it.” His words, though soft, carry a weight of wisdom, a reminder that your fury, however justified, only serves to empower the very source of your pain. With a gentle yet firm grip on your arm, he silently implores you to find solace in restraint, to withhold the tempest brewing within. In his touch, there’s a silent reassurance, a shared understanding that some battles are won not through violence, but through the resilience of spirit.

“She’ll get what’s coming to her,” Jungkook’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade, his tone harboring a quiet determination. With a shake of his head, he offers a silent vow, a promise that justice will find its way to Deiji, no matter the winding path it takes. In his words, there’s a resolve, an unwavering belief that the scales of fate will tip in favor of righteousness, even amidst the chaos of betrayal.

You shift your gaze to Jimin, who remains seated with your baby, his expression a mix of concern and unwavering support. His calm demeanor provides a stable anchor amidst the storm brewing within you. Meanwhile, your sister’s fury is palpable, evident in the set of her jaw and the intensity of her focus on her twins, corralling their energy in the bustling room.

“I’ve called the police,” Lissa declares, rising from her seat with purpose, her steps deliberate as she strides towards Deiji, her demeanor a blend of resolve and determination.

“I’m really disappointed in you, why would you even do such a thing? That’s so horrible.”

Tears continue to cascade down Deiji’s cheeks, her sobs echoing in the tense silence of the room, her once-fierce demeanor now shattered like glass. “I was consumed by jealousy, alright?” She confesses through choked breaths, her gaze shifting towards Jimin. “You have everything, and I despise both of you for it. I wanted her to feel the pain you inflicted on me, Jimin.”

Jimin’s breath catches in his throat, the weight of Deiji’s words hitting him like a wrecking ball. He carries the burden of knowing he inflicted deep wounds upon her, using her as a pawn in a twisted game of revenge against you. It’s a bitter truth he’s forced to swallow, a regret that gnaws at him relentlessly. If only he could rewrite the past, erase the pain he caused, he would never have entangled himself with Deiji in the first place.

“You hope you rot in prison,” you utter, your voice slicing through the air like a blade, cold and unyielding, the words heavy with the weight of betrayal and fury. With Yoongi and Jungkook guiding you back to your seat, you struggle to quell the tempest raging within you, fighting to regain control amidst the tumult of emotions.

You draw in slow, deliberate breaths, first through your nose, then out through your mouth, a rhythmical dance of inhales and exhales in a bid to rein in the storm raging within your chest. With each expulsion of air, you feel the seething anger gradually ebb away, replaced by a sense of calm determination settling over you like a comforting shroud.

Time seems to stand still in the aftermath of the revelation, an eerie silence wrapping around the room like a heavy blanket. The weight of what has transpired hangs in the air, palpable and stifling, leaving everyone in a stunned stupor. Then, with a jolt, the doors burst open, and two uniformed police officers stride in, their presence a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation. Without a word, they approach Deiji, escorting her away, her departure marking the end of a tumultuous chapter and the beginning of a new one.

As you witness her being led away, an unexpected sense of liberation washes over you, as if a weight you didn’t even realize you were carrying has suddenly been lifted. It’s a curious sensation, almost buoyant, as if the air around you has become easier to breathe. A fleeting but unmistakable feeling of relief floods your chest, and you can’t help but feel strangely lighter, as if the darkness that once loomed over you has finally begun to dissipate.

“I’m deeply sorry. I knew all along that she set fire to your place, but as the writer, my hands were tied. I couldn’t reveal the truth to you. But please know, I’m truly sorry for what she did to you,” Lissa’s voice trembles with remorse, her face etched with genuine regret. She extends her arms, enveloping you in a warm, reassuring hug, her hands gently patting your back in a gesture of solace and understanding.

“I’ve wanted to tell you countless times,” she whispers, tears streaming down her face like silent rivers of regret.

“I get it. It wasn’t part of my narrative and story until now,” you reply, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips as tears blur your vision. You notice the collective emotional weight shared by everyone in the room.

“Thank you so much for creating me and bringing me to life,” you say, your voice thick with gratitude, as tears blur your vision, lending a poignant weight to your words.

Lissa shakes her head against your shoulder, her voice muffled by emotion. “No, thank you for letting me create you. You’ve been my canvas, a safe space where I could pour out my feelings—sadness, anger, pain, and happiness. Truly, thank you.”

You all embrace each other one last time, tears mingling with laughter, a symphony of emotions filling the room. It’s a beautiful, bittersweet moment, etched into your hearts as a testament to the bonds you’ve forged and the journey you’ve undertaken together. This moment, and all the ones before, you know, are truly special.

How are you feeling? 🥹 Yes, I’m crying. I hope this Q&A wasn’t too weird! If you still have some question, or didn’t get to participate in the Q&A when it was live, you are also more than welcome to send in an ask with questions for the characters— they will still reply in an ask 🙂

Thank you so much for reading this story and series, I know it’s massive. These characters are like my babies, they are very special to me, and I feel sad that the story is over. But I’m so happy with what I’ve achieve, and truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for reading and for commenting ✨

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

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sebsxphia · 3 months

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Seb Seb Seb Seb my brain has been boiling with these thoughts since your post about Rhett and Little Lamb dancing in the kitchen and all I can think about is Rhett being haunted by her.

Not like an actual haunted vengeful ghost kind of thing, but he's driving in the truck and he thinks he sees her in the passenger seat.

Rhett absent mindedly grabbing a snack she likes at the gas station when he's filling the tank.

When he turns on the radio it's a song that she would sing to.

I'm clawing at my walls with these thoughts rn

eeeek! kas, kas, kas, my love! lemme tell you something! i have been so excited to reply to this, because this is such an incredible thought and it’s one i absolutely adore thinking about with preacher rhett and little lamb! thinking about the aftermath of the story and the possibilities of where it would go next, haunting is absolutely it. especially with the way that you so perfectly describe it. they’re just always there. they’ve become apart of rhett’s subconscious and filling up his peripheral vision. i like to think that because rhett ate them, they’ve become apart of rhett. they live on inside him. he quite literally consumed their soul and they’re bound to him for the rest of his dying days.

he stays at a motel and automatically asks for two towels. he goes to a diner and asks for their favourite food, not even bothering to order his own. he buys the cigarettes that they smoked, suddenly much preferring them to his normal brand. he buys the shampoo they used. he thinks he sees them wandering the ranch fields, far off in the distance at night as he’s preparing his dinner by the kitchen sink. at night, he feels the weight of their body pressing down on him. it’s the same weight when they died on top of his body, even though his sheets are thin and not heavy in the slightest.

omg. omg. omg. thank you so much for these incredible thoughts my love! 💌🥹💗

#💌you’ve got mail #honeyedspace <33 #rhett abbott #preacher!rhett abbott #ptolemaea

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peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology · 2 years

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may i pls request an arvin fic with prompts 38 & 42😭🥹🤍

Hey love I hope you like it! I'm sorry it took a little while but I absolutely loved this I thought it was so so cute. Anyways I wanted to say thank you for supporting me for so long, you were one of my earliest followers and it means a lot ❤️ Also as an aside, there are 4 more summer of love prompts left in my inbox, those will be out shortly too. Let me know what you think, love u xx

The Hookman

38 - Making s'mores

42 - Getting scared while camping

Pairing: Arvin Russell x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: You take Arvin camping for his birthday

Regular Masterlist

Summer of Love Prompts

Summer of Love Masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Arvin didn’t care much about his birthday, he never bothered planning any sort of celebration or party, he found it all unnecessary. He loved to celebrate your birthday though, and your anniversary, and Christmas, any opportunity to spoil you really. You liked spoiling him too, but he always appreciated the gesture much more than he cared about any of the actual gifts. He just wasn’t a very materialistic person, which is why this year you’d decided to give him an experience for this birthday instead of any physical object.

You would have loved to fly him to some exotic location and have some big romantic weekend, but you couldn’t afford anything like that. So you went with something much simpler, camping. One of your friends offered the perfect spot for a romantic getaway, it was secluded in the woods, perked on top of a large hill with a great view, and less than a mile from a massive lake. You were overjoyed with the find, and the same friend helped you make a list of everything you would need. You proposed the idea to Arvin and he was excited, spending the weekend alone with you was his ideal birthday really.

Although he was a little reluctant to let you plan the trip and pay for it, you wouldn’t budge on the matter, and he was forced to concede eventually. He did double check your packing list though, just to make sure you hadn’t missed anything essential. Once you were both sure you had everything you’d need you loaded it all into his car and headed out. It was about an hour drive, and it was a bit difficult to navigate the truck to the campsite, but the view was worth the effort. You were surrounded by a circle of trees, the forest was buzzing and everything smelled fresh. Below your campsite you could see the corner of the lake, and in the middle of the campsite there was a makeshift fire pit born from the hundreds of campers who had been there before you.

You attempted at first to unload the car and set up the tent yourself, insisting Arvin relax, but there was no way he’d let you do it all yourself. So you two put up your tent and piled your things inside. By the time you had your campsite all set up the sun was starting to set, and both of you were getting hungry. For your first night you’d decided to pre pack some sandwiches for dinner, so all you had to do was gather a bit of wood and start a fire. You two snuggled up next to each other in some folding lawn chairs while you ate and watched the sun go down.

“This is incredible,” Arvin hummed contently before he looked over at you, “You know I think this is already my best birthday ever.”

You flushed, “Well it’s not actually your birthday until tomorrow, but thank you. It’s really nice out here.”

“Yeah it is,” he agreed, tracing his hand over one of yours, “We should get out the s’mores before it gets too dark.”

“Don’t you wanna save those for tomorrow?” you frowned, “I mean I didn’t bring a cake or anything so that’s kind of our only dessert.”

“I’m sure we’ll have enough for tonight and tomorrow,” he hummed, “Plus it’s my birthday trip, I think I’m entitled to some s’mores if I want them.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed yourself out of your chair, “I’ll be right back.”

You returned with graham crackers, a bag of marshmallows, several Hershey’s bars, and some metal skewers you thought would be perfect to roast the marshmallows on.

“Yummy,” Arvin hummed, ripping into the marshmallows and throwing one into his mouth.

You carefully placed one of them on your skewer and dipped it into the fire, “They’re so much better roasted.”

“They’re delicious either way,” he said with a mouthful of marshmallow, making you crinkle your nose.

“It’s rude to speak with your mouth full Arvin,” you scolded playfully.

He laughed, “Oh I forgot, you fell in love with me for my good manners,” he placed another marshmallow onto his skewer and shoved it into the fire, “Did you ever tell ghost stories when you were little?”

You knit your brows as you tried to remember, “No, I don’t think so. There was rumor that one of the houses in town was haunted, but that’s the closest I can remember.”

He nodded, “Lenora and I used to tell them to each other,” his hand slipped over your leg, squeezing your thigh before he continued, “Not just when we were camping, but that always made them scarier. They’re so cheesy, I can’t believe I used to be scared of that shit…”

“That’s cute Arvin,” you laughed, “Do you remember any of them?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Uh, I don’t know, I haven’t thought about them in a long time.”

You pulled your marshmallow from the fire and began assembling your s’more, “Could you try and tell me one?”

“You wanna hear a cheesy ghost story?” he chuckled.

You nodded, “Of course, I like it well you tell stories, your voice is nice.”

He blushed and bit his cheek, “I suppose I probably remember enough…”

“Yay!” you cheered and leaned back in your chair, “Well get on with it.”

He let out a low hum as he pulled his burning marshmallow away from the fire. He blew it out, the marshmallow was nearly black, “It starts with this criminal, a murderer I think. I don’t remember exactly what happened to him but basically he loses his hand and it gets replaced with a hook. So he’s this hook handed killer, and he was always going after pretty young girls,” he glanced over at you, “It took years to catch him, and when they finally did they hung him. So he dies, but since his soul was so twisted it couldn’t rest properly, and he came back as a ghost. Now he wanders all over the country looking for more pretty young girls to kill. Oh!” he cracked a big smile, “And he especially likes girls with (y/h/c).”

You rolled your eyes, “I can’t believe that used to scare you.”

“That one didn’t scare me, it scared Lenora,” he defended, “I used to tell it better.”

Arvin kept trying to recall more and more details about the story while you finished your s’mores. You were almost certain that he was making it up just to try and scare you. You humored him, nodding along with whatever new details he added, laying your head on his shoulder while he talked. You two continued like that until the fire started to sizzle out. Arvin volunteered to fully extinguish it so you could get comfy in your makeshift bed.. Inside the tent you’d laid your sleeping bags on top of each other to provide a bit of padding and brought a pile of blankets to keep yourselves warm. You wanted the tent to be as comfortable as possible so you’d brought more than a fair share of blankets and pillows.

“Fires good,” Arvin promised as he crawled into the tent, zipping it closed behind him, “You look comfy.”

You smiled, “I’ll be comfier once you’re in here with me.”

“I’m coming,” he promised as he began stripping his clothes.

He got down to his boxers and crawled under the blankets beside you, “Ready for bed kitten?”

“I’m pretty tired,” you snuggled up to his chest.

“Me too,” he wrapped his arms around you and pressed his lips to the top of your head, “Thank you for planning this, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you cooed back.

He held you close to him until you fell asleep. Admittedly it was more difficult than normal, it was harder to drift off without your comfy mattress under you. Snuggling up to Arvin helped, but you already knew you wouldn’t be sleeping as deep as you normally would. Sure enough you found yourself waking up shortly after you drifted off, Arvin was already deep asleep, but you were suddenly uncomfortable. You rolled over so your back was against Arvin’s chest. He scooted closer to you and you closed your eyes in hopes of drifting off again.

When you fell asleep the second time you were able to fall deep enough into sleep that you started to dream. You would have hoped to have some sort of sweet dream about you and Arvin, instead you were struck with the hook man. In your dream he came stalking up to your tent, ripping it open and yanking you from the inside. Luckily you were woken up before anything too gruesome could happen, the sounds of the wind grazing your tent had drawn you back to reality. Arvin was still sleeping soundly, his face buried in your neck, his lips placed against your bare skin. His tight grip helped to relax you after the bad dream. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, sinking back into him with a smile. The adrenaline started to die down and your pounding heart relaxed.

Until the wind picked up again. This time it was more than just the wind, you heard some sort of awful, high pitched screeching that made your skin crawl. Arvin stirred but didn’t wake up. You sank under the blankets, pulling them up to your eyes, which were darting rapidly around the tent. The screeching sounded again, you tried to calm yourself but your mind was already getting irrational. Really you knew it was just a stray branch or the car, but you couldn’t help picturing the hook man from your dreams. Stalking you outside the tent, running his hook over the car, getting ready to tear you away from Arvin and murder you.

With a small squeal you flipped to face Arvin again, “Arvin,” at first your voice was quiet, still unsure if you wanted to wake him, “Arvin,” this time you were a little louder, pushing against his chest, “Arvin!” you snapped suddenly, just in time for the wind to pick up once more.

He groaned, reaching up to rub one of his eyes before he opened it, “Something wrong baby?”

Your cheeks flushed, suddenly feeling embarrassed that you’d woken him up, “I, uh, I had this kind of weird dream.”

His lips tugged to a frown, “What about?”

“The hookman…” you uttered shamefully.

He smiled and started to chuckle, “Really?”

“Yes!” you fell onto your back dramatically, “Then I woke up and I started hearing this screechy sound, it's freaking me out.”

“I’m sorry baby, I’m sure it was just a tree or something though,” he wrapped his arm around your middle and pressed his lips to your ear, “Or an owl, or anything. We’re in the woods, there are weird noises sometimes.”

“I know,” you groaned, “It’s just nerves.”

He nodded and moved right up next to you, “Well just come here. I promise it was normal forest noises, but if it was a hookman, I would protect you. You’ve got nothing to worry about, you’re always safe with me.”

You snuggled back to his chest, wanting to feel him close again, “Promise?”

“Course, I don’t care if it’s the hookman or the devil himself,” he mumbled against your forehead, “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, I love you too much for that.”

“I love you too Arvin,” your cheeks flushed and you smiled, “It’s probably after midnight now.”

“You think so?”

You nodded, “Yeah, so happy birthday.”

“Mmm, thank you baby,” he yawned and leaned in for a quick kiss, “I’m about to pass out again, but you can wake me up if you need me.”

“Of course, thank you hunny,” you cooed sweetly, “You always know just what to say.”

He said nothing, simply pressing his lips to your head again before sleep overtook him.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

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