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#but i have to much to articulate to add right now

mostly-mundane-atla · 7 months

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I LOVE HAHN. He spins in my head like a microwave plate. He could have been so much!!! He could have parelled Sokka's insecurities about his culture, by showing him up as the poster boy in the village. Only to fail at his single duty, PROTECT YUE. Lived his whole life next to her, believing that it'll continue forever, only for her to completely disappear??? (Would they have been united in their grief? Their shame?)

He grew up with Yue, like there is so much to explore with that, which could have expanded greatly into how we see Yue's character and the NWT. They could have been best friends, they could have barely stood each other, they could have been struggling to stay together while their community suffers under the war.

Unlike Sokka's skepticism, Hahn could have believed in spirits. He could have had such conviction in them that he was horrified. Perhaps he lost family members to spirits, perhaps he recieved premonitions of them, perhaps he knew deep down inside that if spirits could give life to Yue, they could always take it away. He could have always known Yue's time on earth was on a countdown, which caused him to be on guard with people around her, even herself, leading to all the issues in their relationship. Every single question people had of Yue? Every thought about whether or not she was happy, as a human, or if she'll be happy, as the moon? Exactly what Hahn thinks all the time.

Always hearing it's "annoying" to develop such minor characters. Fine whatever, I get annoyed too, that I have to rework the WTs constantly to fix the deadend stereotypes the creators slapped onto them. (Btw, could we develop water tribe characters without tearing down the WTs to make them "good natives" under their "oppressive society"? Please?) Because if the show keeps saying the water tribe has a strong community and Yue's whole thing is that she loves her people so much she'll sacrifice herself for them (note: not cause of her "daddy issues"), then yeah. I'd expect Hahn to be at least "tolerable".

But no, I guess the fandom has time to flesh the billionth minor fire nation character with sympathic racist headcanons! Again!! But not any on the people they ethnically erase. Too convenient to take out anger on sexist native stereotypes opposed to... all the other sexist characters in show, like the FN! Lmao.

I like this show a lot, but...this fandom............

Seconding everything. When i'm less tired i'd like to add my specific thoughts, but yeah, i thoroughly agree with all this.

#response #we all know this fandom hates native ppl or is at the very least okay with anti-indigenous racism #but i have to much to articulate to add right now #look up the *flames on the side of my face* clip from clue because that's exactly how it feels

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sanspuppet · 5 months

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What abt hard dom Yeosang x soft dom Mommy Hwa making a tomboy fem y/n feel good (and also loved and admired and understood) And saying how proud they are of her (achievements and stuff she's doing in her life)

I love LOVE your writing TT

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

PAIRING: rough!dom Yeosang x soft!dom Seonghwa x tomboy!fem reader

W/T: protected sex, rough and vanilla sex, nipple play, short mention of pussy eating/ play

A/O: here you are! thank you so much <3 loved the idea and i hope i fulfilled your request darling :3

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

Your face is buried in the mattress as you try to hold back any sounds from how the new, strange feeling of being filled, is turning your mind into a blank state. All you can hear is the buffered sound of Yeosang’s hips hammering against your ass, his desperate groans exposing his need to fuck you better, deeper and faster. On the other side, you can hear Seonghwa articulating something, and you take a few seconds to develop his sentence inside your mind, as you’re barely concentrating at anything. “Look at how pretty she is. It’s her first time but she’s taking your dick so well bro” Yeosang pulls back a little, enough for seeing perfectly your full body and have still the tip of his cock at the entrance of your pussy, he smirks, hands dragging down your sides till the cheeks of your buttocks. “Yeah, so true. Nice muscles of yours y/n, such a perfect body.” you quickly regain yourself when you feel the friction stopping. You finally leave a frustrated moan, murmuring back: “Fuck, thanks.” you lift your head, enough to see the face of Seonghwa looking at you with a proud smile. He giggles, seeing your cheeks red after being pressed against the pillow forcefully, by the way Yeosang harshly pulled his dick inside you. “i should take the lead now, Yeo. You fucked her so hard, my baby needs a little rest.” Yeosang slowly nods, he secretly wanted you all for him, but sharing is caring, right? After all, it was for Seonghwa if he had the chance to know you. He lays down next to you, admiring your sweaty hair, knowing that it’s all cause of him. Hwa gently turns your body around, to look better at your abs, he couldn’t help but trail his fingers on every inch of your toned tummy. Seonghwa leans down and slowly starts leaving kisses over your body, making his way with them down your pelvis, he uncontrollably kisses your clit. Hwa wides his eyes right after, licking his lips: “Fuck you taste so good.” he sucks intensely, then leaves a small lick. Yeosang stares admiringly at Hwa, and instinctively attaches his lips at your right nipple, his hand squeezing the other. The man between your legs, gets up: “I’d love to taste you better, but my dick seems burning from how fucking hard you make me.” He finally has the opportunity to drag his boxers down, revealing his hard-on. He takes the condom layed on the corner of the bed, wrapping it around his length. “Spread your legs wider for me, darling.” You immediately do as he says, while caressing Yeosang’s hair as he leaves purple marks on your tits. You bite your lower lip as you feel again that sublime friction hitting your stomach, Seonghwa slowly slides in and out of you, making sure to rub his cock against every angle of you. “We’re so proud of you baby, you’ve reached all the goals you wanted to achieve” Hwa adds more pleasure by massaging your clit with his thumb. Yeosang lifts his chin enough to let his lips reach your neck and kiss it. “We do, y/n.” He turn his head to look at Seonghwa: “She needs a special treat” Hwa caresses your inner thighs, grimacing slightly at the sight of all the bruises Yeosang left on your skin. “Yeah, we’re gonna make her feel how much we love her”

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partycatty · 1 month

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I don’t know if you’re open to requests but me and my friend have this hc and I would like to see your rendition of it. The reader is stressed about their Algebra test coming up and since Johnny has a PhD in quantum mechanics and deals with that stuff, he offers to help. And as the reader is thinking on the problem Johnny gives them, they put the pencil in their mouth seductively but are unaware of it and Johnny gets a little… riled up. And you can take it from there :)

Love ya !! 🥰💜

ough i love me a big smart man

johnny cage > teach you a lesson

notes: my last fic took all of my mental strength for smut for now so it's only gonna be implied

[ masterlist ]

• damn you and your stubbornness, you're here trying to get your engineering degree and the class you put off all these years finally creeps up on you... and you hate math. thankfully, your best friend has a phd (which still baffles you when you think about it too much; not that he's stupid, more that it's so out of left field for him that you thought he was joking when he first told you).

• knocking on his door, he answers so quickly you wonder if he tumbled down the stairs to answer you in record time. he was always ready to do anything you asked of him, so you knew he was the right person to go to

• you explain the situation, about how you're teetering on the edge of just tearing your textbooks apart with your teeth before he slows you down with his hands on your shoulders.

• johnny ushers you in, welcoming you to his dining room after sweeping the various accumulation of stuff littering every surface to a degree.

• johnny's smarter than you gave him credit for, focusing on his well-articulated lecture but you find yourself missing the middle portion of his lessons when his veiny arms are exposed as he rolls up his shirt. his hands were so defined, so strong...

• "are you even listening?" he groans dramatically, waving said head in front of your face. "you wanna pass this class or not?"

• you swallow thickly, though the subject is still shamefully fuzzy in your mind. nodding slowly, johnny pinches the bridge of his nose before resuming.

• "maybe this'll be easier if we..." he leans over your seated form, towering over you as he flips your notes to a blank page over your shoulder. "here." he writes an example equation, a relatively easy one so he could break it down for you.

• shaking the dirty thoughts, you try to pick the equation apart, separating what you know is in the correct order of operations, but you're stumped when the denominators don't add up like they should.

• the tip of your pencil brushes against your bottom lip as your brows knit in thought. it swiped across the width of your lip, pushing in ever so slightly against your teeth as you desperately try to find a way past the confusion.

• johnny falls eerily silent, fists clenching as he breathing feels hot and heavy down your neck. he rubs his face, circling the table with a long sigh. the noise draws your attention, completely oblivious to how tight his pants were from the display.

• "sorry," you sheepishly look down at the paper. "this is... a lot."

• "no... no! you're fine!" johnny snaps himself back to reality at your puppy eyed expression, like his desperation for you was somehow your fault when it was really his for not knowing how to keep things in control.

• you feel smaller as you sink into the chair, trying to retrace your steps through the numbers. instinctively, the pencil finds its way to your mouth again and you gently suck on the shortened eraser, your tongue pressing against the head of it as the multiplication takes its time in your mind.

• johnny chokes on air, punching his chest to hide his flustered face. he can't even look at you or you might notice the steam from his ears.... why were you here again?

• "you're not helping," you remind him teasingly, and he jogs to your side with a cool breath to regulate his temperature. "did i do this right?"

• johnny leans down, his chin almost on your shoulder as he inspects your work. the error stands out to him at lightning speed and he pulls at your wrist, abruptly tugging the pencil from your mouth and slamming it against the table.

• "there," he huffs out, circling the error with his finger. "five over nine. not nine over five." his eyes flick between the back of your head and the pencil, and the way the eraser shines. he might pass out if he thinks too hard about it.

• he should've picked an easier equation so you'd stop thinking so damn hard about this, he thinks. the pencil wanders back between your lips and it's when you bite down on the pink tip his flat palm slaps the table, making everything rattle. you jump and look up with a shocked expression.

• "can you... not." he breathes, cheeks red and brows furrowed.

• "not... what?" you look down, maybe you had a bad habit in the math process?

• "don't do that." he's being vague, it's getting on your nerves.

• "you're gonna have to be clearer."

• "keep that thing away from your mouth," johnny points at your fingers twirling the pencil, an accusatory finger firm like he caught it committing a crime.

• "the pencil?" you're caught off guard, wondering what his issue is.

• "yes, the damn pencil!" he groans, running a hand down his face. "can't think straight for a single second when you're... you know."

• it clicks in your head, what he's asking of you. it flusters you but also fills you with an egotistical desire. you always had a lingering crush on your best friend, but you never wanted to act on it out of fear of losing the best thing that ever happened to you. johnny's deep, dark voice makes your core stir as you think about the possibilities, how to test the waters from here.

• you slowly place it flat against your tongue, trying to ignore the taste as you relish in the way johnny twitches his eye at the sight. he wants to look away but you're forcing him to, that knowing glint fatal for his heart. the thought of your tongue holding the heavy weight of his thumb, or worse, his dick, is driving him up the wall.

• johnny stomps beside you, grabbing your wrist and pulling the pencil away, managing to throw it out of your grasp and capturing your lips with his own as the pencil rolls off on its own adventure.

• his kiss is consuming, far too much for your mind as you grow dizzy at the loss of breath. his hands pull at your face and neck, trying to squish your face against his as he swallows every whimper and gasp for breath you expel.

• just as he pulls away to get oxygen, his thumb slides between your lips and presses against your tongue, your hot and heavy breath driving him wild.

• "are you really trying to do this to me?" he asks as your lips wrap around his finger, sucking gently. his eyes flutter shut and he groans, nodding downward with his head.

• "maybe," you quietly reply through his finger, sinking to your knees in front of him, sliding your hands up his outer thighs. you're perfectly in line with his crotch, but your eyes are too busy admiring the flustered actor above you as he looks down his nose. he pulls his thumb away, groaning at the thin trail of saliva that falls down your lip from the loss.

• "i'll teach you a lesson," he reaches for his belt buckle, the clinking of metal dulling every sense but your hearing.

• you can study later... probably.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #mk1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #mortal kombat smut #marley writes ☆

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nathaslosthershit · 7 months

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[3] Who is Birdie Hughes?

Mat Barzal x Hughes!sister

Part of the Birdie Hughes AU

Here is the link for the Masterlist

Summary: Why Birdie is out of the limelight and the 3 times the Hughes brothers talked about their big sister

The three Hughes brothers becoming huge hockey stars and seemingly getting those talents from their parents, was a story told over and over. 3 out of 3 Hughes boys ending up in the NHL at the same time truly showed the talent this family possessed. But there was a fourth child, the oldest and only daughter of the family, that wasn’t so much in the limelight. This was on purpose, Birdie never wanted too much attention on herself, and she thought that with three famous superstar hockey brothers, she wasn't interesting enough to warrant attention. It was shortly after Jack was drafted, and the family began to gain much more popularity, that they were all asked to be interviewed, when she sat them all down to talk.

“I don’t want to be interviewed.” She stated, firm but not unkind. “I don’t think I could handle that.”

“Well, Birdie, we will have someone there to help you out and talk you through it ahead of time.” Her dad said.

“I know that, and I know if I said anything stupid or whatever they wouldn’t include it. I just think I don’t need to add my input. They don’t want to hear what I have to say.”

“Sweetie, they asked you to do it because they want to know. They want to hear what you have to say as the oldest.” Her mom reasoned.

“Come on dude, you are part of the family, it would be weird if everyone but you were interviewed.” Jack argued. They didn’t understand, which wasn’t their fault. Birdie didn’t know how to articulate how she was feeling. She loved her family, she loved hockey, and she loved how her brothers were talented and had bright features ahead of them. What she didn’t love was the guilt she had always felt for quitting. She was good and she enjoyed playing, but she simply wasn’t competitive enough. She didn’t feel the need to practice day in and day out, she never stressed about whether her team was going to win because she simply enjoyed playing. After a particularly bad season had ended in high school, her coach had sat her down and berated her. Accusing her of not caring enough, of letting down her team. She vowed then and there that the only times she would be playing was for fun. She didn’t want big arenas full of fans and the best hockey equipment money could buy. She wanted the public rink and to play with her family for fun during the weekend and days they had off.

When Birdie had finally told her family she was done, they were confused. After a bit of pushback they finally decided that if she wasn’t going to be happy, then there was no reason to make her continue. She missed it, of course, and she felt terrible for quitting, but over time she felt less and less guilty.

She didn’t want to talk about that though, she didn’t want to explain. She also didn’t want to feel like she was less then because she chose a different life than what her brothers did.

“You can mention me, I don’t want to totally not exist from your lives publicly. I just don’t want to be interviewed right now.” She said firmly.

Silence filled the room, till they all began to nod.

“Also, just call me Birdie. I don’t need my name out there so some crazy fan can dox me or something.” This she passed off as a joke, but they all knew she was serious at the same time.

Ever since then, the public has known little about the mysterious first Hughes child. Comments here and there from the boys or their parents about their sister and daughter, but not much more. A childhood photo here and there, but since Luke’s draft day, there hasn’t been much of her, unless it was a hockey game she went to support her brothers at.

Over time though, this began to change.

It started with Jack.

Out of everyone, Jack hated interviews the most. He knows it has become somewhat of a joke and over the years he just couldn’t bring himself to care about hiding his annoyance. Luckily, Jack was only doing a small sit down to talk about his family. Nothing about a game he had played where they would ask if he was sad they lost or some shit.

“Now your whole family is very close it seems. How have they impacted your career and helped you grow?”

“Uh yeah, obviously we are close and they all mean the world to me,” what the fuck is he supposed to say? “Growing up with three siblings has honestly really shaped me as a person. I owe so much to my brothers and sister. Beyond hockey even. Having three people you are sort of forced to love and grow with has been a blessing, even if they are annoying. Birdie, my sister, has had the most impact I think. She has always been kind of a, um, mentor, I guess- I don’t really know how to say it. She helped me become a better person, I don’t even want to know who I would be if I didn’t have her to somewhat keep me in check growing up. She lives not too far from me, compared to the rest of my family, so when I moved to New Jersey she helped along the way. She also did so much to help me when I was younger. Driving me to practice, driving my friends to practice too. Also school, she is the smartest person in the world, I swear. Always gave me shit for tests I would do bad on, but would always offer to help me study. And I gave her every single essay to proofread, which led to more bullying from her, but I never got too bad of a grade after she put her input in.” He was actually smiling and laughing, which is not common for Jack during an interview.

“She must be your favorite huh?” The interviewer said laughing.

“Oh she is everyone’s favorite. Although we all know Luke is her favorite. That's only because he is the youngest. She calls him ‘her baby’, which she has said since she was 6 and he was an infant.”

Luke

“So, Luke, a lot of talk from Jack about your sister. Something about you being her favorite?” The interviewer asked.

“Oh, of course I'm her favorite. Not even a question. She loves to tell me how I will always be her baby brother, despite how old I get, which is kind of annoying.” he laughs.

“Most people would find it endearing.”

“Yeah until she visits you in college and starts yapping about how you are ‘her baby’ to all your new friends. They all thought it was hilarious and I had to put up with them calling me ‘baby Hughes’ for like a month.”

Quinn

“Tough game today, Quinn.” The reporter said, not really a question but he still waited for the captain’s response.

“Yeah. I have family here today so the loss is a little more upsetting.” He said somberly. He really hated interviews sometimes.

“Your brothers were here?”

“No, uh my sister. She surprised me last night. Didn’t know she was coming till then. She works in New York so I don’t get to see her as much as my brothers do. Something that I am jealous about.”

“Ah yes, the first Hughes child. You two being the oldest- are you guys close?”

What a weird question. But honestly, Quinn would rather talk about his sister than the game.

“Of course. It was just us for a little bit and I was more of her younger brother then, but once the other two came along we became each other’s confidant. I love it when she visits, and she is a better guest than my brothers so,” he laughs.

“You said she works in New York. Is she also involved in hockey like her siblings? Seems like a family trend so I wouldn’t be surprised.” The reporter said.

This pissed Quinn off and he knew he had to be careful with how he answered this. Being so close, he was the first person she told when she was thinking about quitting hockey. He knew why she felt awful and he hated it. He also knew that this question would upset her, so he had to do something to make his answer one that wouldn’t hurt her even more.

“No, she actually works at a museum. She is easily the smartest out of all of us.”

“Ah so sort of a ‘black sheep of the family’, right?”

“Not whatsoever. We all love her, and since I was young she has been like the coolest person to me. It's honestly hard to explain what she does because it is much more sophisticated than me playing hockey or you asking stupid questions for a living.” Honestly, he would have dragged the interviewer more, but was soon let go because they could tell he began to have an attitude that wasn’t very good for a captain.

“Fucking idiot” Quinn muttered after he left.

“What's wrong?” Birdie, who had waited outside for him to be done, had asked.

“Nothing, just- you are smart and talented, and everyone is so proud of you for what you do. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“Quinn, what happened?”

“The interviewer was just stupid. I had said you were here and they asked if you were involved with hockey. When I said no they were rude about it. Then I got mad. Fuck them though. Your museum shit is much cooler.” “Cooler than being a professional hockey player that makes millions of dollars? I don’t know about that, Quinn.” She teased. She was used to it. It was worse when people who actually knew her had added their two cents in, but some random interviewer wasn’t going to upset her. She wouldn’t let it. “But thank you. I am not upset, I promise.”

“Love you, B.”

“Love you too, Q.”

#nhl imagine #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader #quinn hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #Birdie Hughes au ☀️

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 3 months

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01/22/2024 Daily Recap

Hey all! It's been a long day huh? I wanna apologize ahead of time, whatever sickness my kiddo had last week finally got me so I'm not feeling terribly well. I'm gonna do my best to articulate todays events for ya!

===Renew As A Crew====

So the very first thing I want to touch on today is updates from @renewasacrew. As you may have heard, they were going to be changing leadership as the shift in priorities changed from renewing to saving OFMD. That being said, the leadership change happened over this weekend with some hiccups (I don't know what the hiccups were entirely and I'm not going to speculate, if you wanna delve down that twitter hole you can, but having been in it for today I'd recommend against it for your mental health, and we don't want to be drawing a bunch of media attention to it) there's a lot of confusing information, and as we know things can get conflated fast if we don't have all the pieces to the puzzle-- let's not speculate and wait for the to come out with more info.

So what I'm focusing on today is @renewasacrew's message to please give them some time and practice some patience while they get back up and running. This also includes anyone you happen to know on twitter working with them, for example: @TheCozyPirate. Let's give them some grace, they've been steering us well so far.

The good news is, several folks, on tumblr: @iamadequate1, @quirkysubject, @asgardian--angels, On twitter: @havethisonelife @yougotoofast @Lcmwriter100, we have all we need to keep going for a few days while things get ironed out. (If I forgot someone please let me know, sorry I am half awake tonight)-- see the HOW CAN YOU HELP section below.

One thing I will mention-- we are moving so very fast right now. It's only been 13 days since the announcement that OFMD wasn't renewed, and we've accomplished SO MUCH. So when there's a lull, it's going to feel like things are standing still and maybe something is going wrong. Don't fall into despair, that's just how things go with negotiations. Take a break, take a breath, and just keep on Polite Menacing until we hear more from the leadership team.

===How can you help?===

**Go to visit the DAILY RENEWAL TASK LIST there's lots of ideas and ways you can help! Have more? Shoot me a dm! I'm happy to add stuff!**

*Note: To our international fans, I promise I'm working on a write up for you as well I've just been sick today and have been able to finish!*

Something new today-- a lot of you have expressed your desire to help in the @renewasacrew efforts. Well if you did-- and still want to, now you can volunteer! Many thanks to @redshiftsinger for getting this up so quick!

Please visit their survey: Volunteer Intake form and fill out how you may be able to help!

=== Cast and Crew Sightings ===

As if on cue, Chaos dad reached out to everyone on twitter today to express some encouragement!

He also saw we were at 77K and posted his astonishment!

Some folks have been a bit weary about his vagueness today, but as we know, Daddy Jenkins is the king of vague-- and he has to be! If there are contracts in the works, he can't be hinting at things. Don't lose hope!

===Samson Kayo ===

Our beloved Oluwande updated his IG with some pictures and a message. If you have IG I'm sure he'd appreciate some love!

Next up was our favorite Captain, Rhys Darby, promoting a fellow comic @jamesroguecomedy over on IG!

And our pirate queen Ruibo Qian was making posts about saving ofmd and fanart about Zheng! Featuring folks you probably know around tumblr: @mistysblueboxstuff and @tsutsu_ya over on twitter

=REMINDER: Cross Fandom Watch Party! on 01/23/2024 1 PM PT, 4PM ET=

Looks like there's gonna be some cross fandom watch parties on twitter you're welcome to tune in for Jan 23-26 on twitter. They'll be watching good omens in an effort to try and get engagement up with PrimeVideo. It sounds like it'll be similar to the LubeAsACrew but with Good Omens fans! Thank you to @Dandeebakes on Twitter for getting these organised!

Hashtags to use: #PirateOmens #AdoptOurCrew #SaveOFMD, and helps to @PrimeVideo

===Articles===

New article, but take it with a grain of salt, see @TheCozyPirate's message:

Our Flag Means Death's marketing was concerned about the shock of violence in the show

===============================================

Alright lovelies. Here we are again, I told you it'd be quick. Today was very very very busy. Take a break and get some sleep ya? Lean on your crew, we are here to support each other. I'll end with a quote from Tolkien (it being all of us in your crew):

"May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out."

Tonight picture features Taika and his "I love you eyes" at Rhys. Thats me, I'm Taika, I love you all.

PS: Idk why this isnt showing up in my recaps repository but ill figure it out in the morning.

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undercoverpena · 6 months

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milk and cookies

marcus pike x f!reader

summary: milk and cookies go well together. just like you and marcus - as a halloween costume.

word count: 2.5k warnings: fluff, established relationship. marcus is in love with you, bcus of course he is, you're amazing. dedication: a huge thank you to @thetriumphantpanda for being there for my insane thoughts, for reading this, and also agreeing this outfit is so marcus coded

As soon as Marcus scans eyes over the paperwork on his desk, he knows his evening has gone up in flames. It torched, practically set alight right in front of him.

The warmth from it licks at his skin as he slowly begins to pull out his phone, closing his office door—needing privacy, a semblance of being alone with you.

He hates this. The disappointment that he brings. That he has to explain, again, that he needs to rearrange, change things—uproot a plan he’d been excited to put into place.

“Hey, I was just about to reply to you—”

It almost falls from his tongue, cutting you off—the simple, short apology. When he does it, he’s purposeful with how he laces it with affection. Wanting—needing—you to know that he means it, that he’d rather be with you than anywhere else.

Even if he loves what he does.

Even if what he loves also means letting you down, it practically comes with the job title.

He swallows it, as best as he can. Allows it to crawl back down his throat, lets it remain there—in the pit of his stomach, swirling with all the other things he hates that he has to tell you. Like I’ll be back in a few days, I wish I could lie in bed with you.

Because, even if the two of you have said those three magical words, he still braces for them to be retracted. For his job to the thing that yanks the two of you apart, rips them both down the middle.

“—I just got caught up, and oh, I managed to find that syrup you liked—the one you told me about—so I’ll pop that in my cupboard for the next time you stay here.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he realises (quickly) that it isn’t going to be today.

“I may have to rain check tonight, baby.”

He waits for the disappointment, a sharp tone—a sigh, all littered with frustration and sharpened by annoyance. But as always, it doesn’t come.

Marcus did not hear anything close to that. If anything, words flow from your tongue, all calm, genuine—all full of understanding: It’s okay, I know you wouldn’t cancel if it weren’t important. Is it a new case?

“I’m really sorry.”

He’s sure he hears you smile.

Sighing, he runs his hand over his face, finger sliding down the bridge of his nose as he slumps himself into his desk chair. Not sure how he can articulate how much he had wanted to see you, had craved nothing more—the thought had been getting him through the day’s meetings and bullshit casework.

The thing—all key-shaped, wrapped in little pumpkins—has been burning a hole in his wallet for the past two weeks while he waited for a moment such as tonight.

Because, fuck you’re so nice. So kind. So understanding. To the point, a part of him worries. Just a little thrum. It there, being plucked like a string, in the moments where he can feel himself falling—all set to slide his foot over the ledge and tumble—what if he chose the wrong time to ask, and broke it—what the two of you have. What he thought he’d found with others, but now he realises had just not been you.

“Plus, I mean, you’d be really upset if someone stole your art,” you add, voice closer to the phone, likely halting whatever it is you were doing to talk to him.

A thought that pulls at the corner of his smile, a thing you do more and more as the weeks turn into months.

Shifting in his chair, he faces himself at the window—the car lights twinkling as they make their way wherever they fancy.

Smirking, he drops his hand to his lap. “There’d be another team involved if someone stole my art.”

“Oh. Well, I mean, still, you’d be needed, wouldn’t you?”

His lips twist further, teeth showing—a smile so large it almost fucking hurt. Because, shit, you’re adorable, funny, beautiful—

“There’d be another team because you’re my art. I don’t really deal with missing people, baby.”

“Oh.” It’s different than the one before—to the point he swears he can feel the heat from your cheeks through the phone. “Well, I—I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t… you don’t have to say anything. Just tell me when I can next see you—give me something to look forward to.”

He hears the phone move, likely from one ear to the other.

“It’ll be Friday—at the party.”

“Friday it is then. Can I still call you later?”

He hopes you’re mirroring his smile from where you’re standing. Marcus hopes he’s not alone in this feeling, the one which has come from nowhere, and makes him worry—more than he has before—because he’s not sure he has it in him to fall, crash and burn all over again.

“I’ll look forward to it, Pike. Especially seeing you in your outfit. Now, go and do good. In the meantime, I’ll count down till we’re reunited in the kitchen, which is everyone’s midnight fantasy. If you can make it, that is.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Don’t worry, if you can’t. Your job is important,” you say. “I’ll… find someone else to dunk myself into.”

Your laugh fills his ear, and he smirks in his chair as he sees the time. “Respectfully, baby. No.”

“Go be a hero, and call me when you land.”

“𝙳𝚘 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢?” 𝙷𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝚒𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙼𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠. “𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖?” “𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝙸 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎, 𝙰𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙿𝚒𝚔𝚎.” 𝙵𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝. “𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸’𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚍.” “𝙸 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚣𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢, 𝙸’𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢.” “𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝. 𝙻𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚓𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎.” 𝙻𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚙, 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚓𝚊𝚠. “𝙾𝚑, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸’𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎?” “𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎,” 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚕𝚢. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚎, 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍.

It had begun as a joke.

You mindlessly scrolling for costume ideas, nestled between his side and the sofa, showing him ones to gauge his reaction. And then you had landed on it.

A grin so big, it could rival the sun with how bright it was—a little kick of your feet that made his chest fill with warmth, happiness and unfiltered joy.

Marcus Pike, will you do me the honour of being the cracker to my cheese?

His finger, though, had scrolled, moved to the next pairing down, grinning—thinking of all the times you’ve found him getting crumbs over the counter.

Rather be the milk to your cookies, baby.

He hadn’t regretted it. Not even when his half arrived, when he had to slide it on in his car—almost getting stuck on the exit of his vehicle as he straightened up outside the address of your friend's home.

Because all he wanted to do was reunite with you.

The days had dragged, and the hours had slumped slowly by. Even the nightly phone calls and occasional texts did nothing to speed it up.

If anything, it just made the question—the one that’s been swirling in worrisome-bile in his chest—more important to ask. Even if the last few times he’d asked a bold question with someone he thought was the one had gone wrong, crumbled away, withered until nothing but weeds were left. h

But then, Marcus supposes, none of those people were you.

As he’d been previously told, he hadn’t needed to knock—the door was unlocked. Immediately greeted by music, by flashes of orange and purple lights as he pushed the door back into the frame behind him. A smile already desperate to cut into his face, the week fading from his shoulders, from his muscles and bones, quickly being replaced by giddiness—a usual symptom of knowing he was going to see you.

Where he’d find you, he wasn’t sure.

A part of him wondered if you really were cliché, and he’d find you in the kitchen, or if you’d be with friends—in the thick of the hustle and bustle, even if you’d told him you didn’t know half the people attending.

People always seemed to like you.

Your kindness shining, practically illuminating—glowing. It’s why he hadn’t really tried to fight falling for you, not at first and not after the first time he sat knee to knee with you at a restaurant table. Because, you were charm, brilliance and captivation, all wrapped up in a person with a stunning smile and a heart of gold.

His thought is cemented when he walks through the open door to his left, and his eyes land on you. You, who is standing nursing a red cup, eyes trained on the window—likely looking for him. Not sure which way he’d have walked up to the house, not realising he’d parked the entire other way—having overshot the house when he’d driven down it.

He’s grateful. Selfishly steals the seconds to just admire you, take you in. Because even if he’s seen you dressed to the nines, bare in his sheets and standing in one of his tees at his kitchen counter, the fact he gets to admire you standing in a costume that matches his, makes his heart skip.

Even more so when your eyes slide across the room, landing on him.

Fuck. He’s sure his heart stops, then.

It’s why he’s grateful time slows. Allows him the chance to restart it as he gets to bear witness to the realisation he’s here, flickers over your face. It absolves the worries and doubts which had been etched into your brows; it vanishes away any nibbling of your bottom lip, that he’s sure you’ve been doing. Instead, it replaces each part of your tinged frown with relief and gratitude.

He should hate it, but it feels like a movie. Not at all factual or sensible, but rather unexplainable and life-altering.

Something he’ll replay when you’re asleep against him, unsure how it is he got to find you in the sea of everything he’d already been lucky to experience.

“You made it,” you say, voice carrying just over the music—standing in front of him.

His lips somehow (between the edge of his milk carton and your inability to twist) manage to find yours, finding they taste a mix of salt and sweetness, spotting the mini-pretzels in your hand. “Of course. Couldn’t leave you here to fend without something to quench your thirst.”

“My hero.”

“You know it.”

Your body curls into him, trying to anyway. Eyes unable to tear themselves away, staring at him, as though he’s hung the stars for you. The two of you silent, admiring—lost entirely in the other until the song changes, snapping you back, reminding you that the two of you aren’t alone.

Even if he wishes you both were.

“C’mon, I need to introduce you to people.”

Before tonight, he’d met most—the ones who matter, you’d explained. But, there were others. Some hidden, disguised too well, behind makeup and SFX that he did wonder if he’d spot them so easily tomorrow when the evening was over.

What he hadn’t banked on, was that you were doing so, to try and carve a place for the two of you to be more secluded, more alone. Moving from room to room, stealing bits of food, cheers’ing your cup, until the two of you were on the back porch—mist blowing from your lips, your sigh heard, loud in the quiet compared to the party inside.

“You having fun, baby?”

Turning your head, you nod—sliding yourself closer to him. “Yeah.”

With minimal awkwardness, he manages to press a kiss on your forehead. Getting a glimpse of your perfume and shampoo, finding it unlocks something—an idea, a thought bubble. Having spent so long looking for perfection, he hadn’t known tonight had been blooming itself to be one.

“Just thinking,” you add.

Sliding his arm around you, he fans his finger out over your back, Humming, resting his head against the top of yours.

“Just that… maybe we can host one of these. You know, one day?”

He feels it hook into the edges of his mouth, a smile growing, sliding up into his cheeks. “Together?”

“Together.”

“Think we should enforce people to dress up as pairings.”

“Oh, for sure. I think we could do better thought—maybe be a piece of art and a paintbrush. Make everyone else be food or something—or their jobs. Otherwise, we’ll just get loads of cops and robbers.”

His laugh rumbles out, feeling you try to move closer next to him—the cookie edge and his carton edge making it difficult.

“Maybe we can do it next year.”

“The outfit? I mean, I think I can make a paintbrush outfit… would need to get on it soon—”

“The hosting,” he adds, cutting you off.

Smirking, you lift your head, tilting it up to see him as he lifts his head from yours, spotting your narrowed eyes. “Is this you asking me to live with you, Marcus Pike?”

Holding up a finger, he fights a laugh. Because if only you fucking knew. His hand slides, shifting under his costume, into his pocket—his wallet emerging, your eyes following his movement.

“So, I’ve been walking around for the past few weeks with this,” he says, undoing the pocket, pulling out a key—one wrapped in pumpkins and little ghouls. “Just... waiting.”

“Oh my…”

“So, baby, if you want to, I’d love you to move yourself and that syrup into my place. I’ll let you decorate my home—our home—from top to bottom and host the most cheesiest party ever.”

“Marcus...”

He licks his lips, turning the key in his finger and thumb. “I really want to keep a close eye on my art, baby.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, baby. More than anything…”

Misting up, he watches your eyes shimmer more under the flashing lights coming through the window, and the bright moon in the sky, before you’re nodding. Softly at first, then enthusiastically, little glitter tears sliding down your cheeks, accompanied by an I love you; I’d love to move in.

Your body tries to move, almost knocking over a plant pot as you try and throw your hands around him.

Clumsy, he thinks, steadying you, cupping your cheek and holding what he can of your side in your costume.

“Weeks, ay?”

Snorting, he swipes his thumb against your cheek. “Trying to find the perfect moment.”

“I think you achieved it.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you take the key from his fingers, turning it, before looking back up at him. “I’m so lucky to have you, Marcus.”

I’m lucky to have you, he says. Not with his words. But with his lips against yours, pressing your lower spine to the porch fence—because fuck he loves you.

an: ily all.

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x you #pedro pascal characters x reader #pedrostories #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike fic #Marcus Pike fanfic #Marcus Pike fanfiction

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viewlumia · 2 months

Text

Nothing will be more weirder than the Ninjago fandom acting like Cole was in love with Nya throughout Rebooted.

Through the entire Love Triangle ordeal, he never actually acts for Nya, instead only reacting to Jay. Observe:

Blackout

In the previous episode, The Art of the Silent Fist, there was a scene between Cole and Nya. Throughout that episode, Nya was struggling with her newfound feelings towards Cole (given to her by a machine I might add but that's a conversation for another day). Nya talks to Cole in that scene and it ends with them holding hands and Cole jokingly saying "Don't tell Jay."

Why am I bringing this up? Because I honestly have trouble looking at that through a romantic lense. I often see people use this as evidence even though it doesn't match up with how the show would later indicate romance (they looked at each other so they're in love now! Chemistry, what's that!) More importantly, Nya never actually articulates her feelings for Cole in this scene. This is crucial when getting to Blackout. In Blackout, after Pixal blurts out that Cole is a perfect match for Nya, not Jay, who entered the room at the time, his first instinct is to attack Cole as soon as he saw him! From the POV of Cole, this looks like his friend calling him names and a whole lot of other things seemingly out of nowhere, he never actually heard about the "Perfect Match" results and that combined with the previously mentioned scene leaves us with a Cole who isn't in love with Nya and is only focused on Jay.

The Curse of The Golden Master

In this clip, after the ninja head into the sewer like a certain other group of color coded ninja, Jay gets into another spat with Cole after Cole dared to *checks note* look out for Nya's safety. This causes the two to get into an argument and ignore Nya falling from the broken ladder.

Now this scene on it's own doesn't mean much, but when paired with the other episodes mentioned, it starts to paint a bigger picture. This scene is a tipping point for Cole, going from someone clueless about his situation and fighting with Jay to letting this petty, near one-sided rivalry get in the way of the task at hand.

This scene is honestly the perfect representation of the Love Triangle in Rebooted: it was never really about Nya, she was just a stepping stone to get to Jay yelling at Cole over a situation he has no idea he's even in. Cole isn't out of the woodwork either as he begins to ignore Nya solely so he can insult Jay, but hey, it can't get any worse right?

Codename: Arcturus

It got worse.

In Codename: Arcturus, we see Jay, Cole, and Nya at the movie theater to "prove who Nya should go out with." Now, you may ask "doesn't that sequence end with both Jay and Cole asking who Nya will date and her kidnapping a cleaning robot?" yes, it does! But the important thing here is that it wasn't even Nya's idea in the first place ("Hey, it wasn't my idea to go on a double date to decide between you two.") Interesting thing of note, this is the only episode in the entire season where it's actually shown Cole fighting for Nya's affection, but even then it's not really about her, it's about getting back at Jay more than anything.

I know someone will come in wondering about "authorial intent," the intent in question being that Cole could be a potential love interest for Nya moving forward, but while I can see the intent, I can also acknowledge that what actually landed on the page and later the screen does not match the intent at all. Instead of Cole falling in love with Nya and getting into a spat with Jay that way, we got Cole treating Nya like a stepping stone to get back at Jay, disregarding her feelings in the process.

TL;DR: Kai should've knocked Jay and Cole upside the head for being weird about his sister

#I did not intend for this to become an analysis but here we are #I would love to hear your thoughts and rebuttals on this anaylsis #please i need human interaction #honestly i formatted this really bad so hopefully this makes sense #ninjago #ninjago analysis #cole brookstone #jay walker #nya smith #nya jiang #jay ninjago #nya ninjago #cole ninjago #ninjago cole #ninjago nya #ninjago jay

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kingofbodyrolls · 18 days

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🐴Status: completed (the epilogue is in the works!)

🐴Word count: 13.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

This was the last thing he expected.

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

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

He despises himself for causing you so much pain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, sometimes Jimin really despises his brother.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking hell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜 Remember the Q&A that is coming in the Epilogue— if you want to send in some questions for the characters, you can do it now (and later too) → Ask the characters (or me), anything ❣️

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shewreckz · 2 months

Note

Hey your art is pretty whimsical and radical my gender non specific broseph, per chance would thou be able to enlighten us on how you draw such bodacious fine art? Like how you draw bodies and fave and what have thee. (Fr tho your art really cool and I'd like to see how you make it)

okay i have whipped up a quick little visual of my thought process while drawing!! it might not be the best cause im not the greatest at teaching but if anyones curious ^_^

first lets start with how i draw bodies

a lot of people like to do the "skeleton" method which is where you draw lines and circles to plan out where the limbs should be. honestly i really dislike doing that because i like to always have volume and shape in mind when drawing bodies, but if it works for you thats great.

instead i separate the body into different pieces, kinda like an articulated doll. i think it helps visualize all the moving parts in a 3d space and makes posing and perspective a lot easier. i can also always add the detailed anatomy on top of this basic model like you see on the left. its always important to work from simple -> complex. drawing a pose while being too worried on anatomy will really hinder your drawing process.

to improve doing this it really just takes practice and observation. i could be here all day talking about proportions, and how many heads high a person is, and each specific muscle group, but i reccomend you go and watch videos and study professional artists on your own. as someone who has been drawing and studying these things for so long, i barely think about how many heads high a person is when im drawing a body. its kind of like learning how to play and instrument or driving a car. it becomes second nature eventually, but you have to apply those skills and work through that period of time where youre still trying to program it into your brain.

after you get a hang of the basics you can take this basic model and draw all types of body shapes with it. i say its always important to play around with making your body types diverse. its not only fun to do but helps make all the characters you draw unique and recognizable. (dont be like vivziepop).

dynamic posing can be the hardest thing to master for a lot of people. the best way to learn how to pose is to not think about it too much and just doing it. for example in my figure drawing class we had to sketch out gesture drawings from a picture in 15 seconds. excercises like that help a ton in making you feel more comfortable when drawing from a reference. you should definitely reference a LOT when it comes to poses, it helps build this visual database so that eventually you can get to the point where you can just draw accurate and dynamic poses from memory. after getting to this point eventually you kind of start thinking of your canvas as this tangible 3d space and considering your characters in 3d space helps make the poses feel a lot more realistic and interesting.

ok now a quick little tour into how i draw different faces yaaaayy!!!1!1!1

main thing with my art is that i LOVEEE drawing dynamic face shapes i think its so important to avoid drawing the same slim faces over and over. shape language plays a big role into this. like for example the face on the middle is more square, the one on the left is more oval and the one on the right is more circle. shape language helps communicate so much about your character without even saying a word about them and just helps differentiate people from a glance.

facial features also play a huge role into making your faces different. these are all drawn from the same exact face shape but look like entirely different characters by adding variety in the features. different noses, eye shapes, lips, etc. can make such a huge difference

i think before any of that its important to learn the anatomy of the face though. again im not gonna go into how many eyes wide a face it or how far the nose is from the mouth but like its always important to learn the fundamentals before stylizing stuff. again the face is a 3d space and if you dont consider your face a 3d plane the features will kind of just look like theyre floating on your characters face like soup...theres a lot of great resources and tutorials online take advantage of those!!! and reference from artists you like too it helps a ton.

and then you mix that all together and Boom you have cool and interesting faces. you will best that same face syndrome in no time if you take my advice Trust...

anyways yeah thats the soda design philosophy hit that like button if you liked it or douse me with tomatoes and kick me off the stage if you think i give bad advice ill leave the decision up to you

#soda's art #art tutorial #errmmm yeah idk how to be a teacher im sorry

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factual-fantasy · 2 months

Text

28 asks! :DD Thank you as always!! 💖💖

@astaherussy

My FNAF AU has been sorted out. In the sense that the timeline has been re-written enough that I can go back to drawing it..

Now the next comic in the AU is a re-write/re-draw of my old FNAF comic, Moon Malfunction. A few months ago though there were several time sensitive projects that came up and I needed to shelf Moon Malfunction 2.0 until they were done. Well now they're all done.. but Moon Malfunction is gonna take me some time to get around to..

For the past few months I've been in a really bad spot mentally and physically. And taking on my FNAF Recap/Repair project is just not something I feel I have the mental energy to do at the moment.. All it feels like is a one big pile of work. And all I wanna do I just draw what ever comes easily to me and focus on recovering..

Soooo for the time being,, my main FNAF AU might not see any updates for a bit.. Though I haven't forgotten about it and I do want to get back to it at some point soon. But for now I want to cut any work out of my relaxing/drawing time and just draw what ever I want. Which atm is pirate cookies-- <XDD

They're also great for grabbing something across the room while I stay in bed 😎😎

Why haven't I drawn anything like that yet- what--

I might just have to at some point! :00

@ardent-38

AWWW THANK YOU SO MUCH!! THATS SO SWEET!! BUT ALSO LSKNAKJ XDDD

I never thought of it like that! Anyone who gets into the game through my characters is like a lactose intolerant person recommending an ice-cream joint- and they're very persuasive! XDD

But fr, thank you! And hey, even if my characters aren't in the game, they'll always be here on Tumblr waiting for you XDD

Actually, I wasn't! :00 I haven't seen that episode of the Cuphead show. But I'm assuming its about Cala Maria and Captain Brineybeard, yes? If so I can easily see the relation XD

(Post in question)

AAAA THANK YOU!! The comic was different than what I'm used to. But it was a nice change of pace. I'm glad you liked it! :}}}

@badlyblurry (Post in question)

FRRRRRR THO He's been holding that glow back for a while. Trying not to send the wrong messages to Blue and potentially damage their friendship 💔💔

XDDD ITS OK!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD 💖💖✨

@mod-bubamon

I have! In this post you can see 3 of them floating behind Melvin! (The anthro donkey)

And in this post, you can see Melvin holding one while it passes away... :((((( Sad day for sure.

Well? What did she taste like? XDD

Oh wait you're dead my bad-

Unfortunately I cant think of any songs that would match each crew members theme.. Rn all my brain can think about is this 👇

youtube

@nunyabusiness459 (Comic in question)

🥰🥰THANK YOU!! :DDD

What is primordial dough? :0

@2006-stupid-thatsme

Thank you! :DD Though unfortunately my fwernnd, I am known for being very bad at explaining how I do art things. :(

If I tried to explain my thought/design process it would just be a lot of word spaghetti that boils down to "uhhh... I just drew it.,. aandd if it dont look good.. draw it differently.. until it looks good-"

My advice would be to look on YouTube for character design tutorials or ask some other artists that have artwork similar to mine and see if they can help. :( Again, so sorry! I wish I could articulate my thoughts better 💔💔

@beryl-shade

This actually makes me think- Google says that if you add too much sugar to a cookie they become brittle.

Huh,, makes me think. If one of the cookies was baked with too much sugar.. they'd break real easy.. hmm.. 👀👀

@whereismycupofcoffee

@artistiemi

Thank you so much!! :DD I wish the same for you!! ✨💖✨

@sunnys-bloog

I've thought about drawing them! :0 And I thiiink I drew Franny one time..? The Blue one. Although I don't think I'll be able to find the sketch unfortunately-

NOT THE GUMDROP BUTTONS!!

tbh though I think they'd see him as just a normal guy! :0 Right..?

@beryl-shade

I'm not sure.. considering what I know about the games.. I thiiink they'd be horrified?? <XDD If they understand that they're made of dough, it'd be the equivalent of a human walking into a giant meat factory where they chop up meat and make weird false humans..

Okay yeah, they'd be horrified for sure XDDD

@wdillustration

:DD THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :}}}

@neo-metalscottic (Cookie run post in question)

AAAAA thank you so much!! I'm glad you liked it!! :DD As for the power, I think you're right about it being a rare occasion. And the idea of her gaining better control over it over time? While her love grows as well?? Perfection. But man I'm also tempted to make it so she can change when ever she wants. :( I really like drawing her and Seafoam together like that.. 🥺

As for the Colossal squid episode,, I'd have to go back and re-watch it to decide if I'll keep it for my AU or not..

But thinking about all the stuff you described about a violent altercation and nightmares?? 👀👀 Its giving me ideas! XDD

Now if the crew did face a violent altercation like that, I imagine their #1 goal would to protect the Octopod. That's their home man! They would probably do what ever they could to get the octopod away from the situation. Like the Captain manually piloting it and some of the crew being sent out in gups to distract the squid. Stuff like that :0

@luna-purple454

AAA IT WAS ON THE 10TH BUT THANK YOU!! XDD :DD

@khoiazo

It was on the 10th actually- and hey thanks! Seam could probably use the calories <XD

@unpopularartist14 (referencing this ask post)

<XD oh boy, what a stark contrast between the sides--

@shaziztrazh

I didn't have them in mind while designing them,, though maybe I took some subconscious inspiration? I see the similarities! :0

#my response #fnaf security breach #octonauts #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ocs #my ocs #welcome home #Youtube

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femmefatalevibe · 8 months

Note

hello, gorgeous. im starting college soon and im on my way to become a femme fatale, so i have two questions for you

1. how can i incorporate the femme fatale way of being into academia?

2. what things/brands are affordable for a college student? i’d love to wear high-quality clothes like the ones you recommend, but i can’t afford them. are there any other products/services that i could add to my routine for a cheap price?

thank you so much in advance xx

Hi love! Congratulations on starting this new chapter of your life <3

Here are my thoughts:

1. how can i incorporate the femme fatale way of being into academia?

Understand the importance and power of:

Knowing how to learn, study, and get in the practice of regularly acquiring new information

Understanding how to work through concepts, set goals, and clearly communicate your thoughts to better articulate a concept or build a case/argument

Becoming a better writer, reader, and remaining focused/prioritized when it comes to your tasks and to-do list

Learning how to absorb information and apply this knowledge to different situations/areas of life through these acquired skill sets/methodology

Developing important self-presentation skills through presentations, written/verbal communication/networking

Refining your aptitude for pattern recognition, gaining more insight into human nature/what makes people tick, and learning how to persuade/seduce others through your words/insights

Totally get it! Budgets are particularly tight for many college students.

For a service option, I would say I recommend Rent The Runway (I believe it's around $100/month for 10ish items rotated throughout the month).

For more affordable alternatives, I would say your best bet is to dig deep into the sale sections of department stores/The Outnet and similar e-commerce sites by utilizing all the filters you need (budget, size, colors, item type, etc.).

If you're searching for more affordable brands generally, I would say some of the highest quality affordable brands available are:

Express: The "Body Contour" line has amazing basics and I love their Editor High-Waisted Flare Trousers (these might be too professional for what you need right now), but I've heard they have very solid denim and shirting options, too!

Oak & Fort (I prefer them to Everlane/Abercrombie TBH)

Quince (for washable silks, cashmere and basics for $40-$70)

4th & Reckless (a lot of their items are on sale for $25-$50!)

Because of Alice (Outlet) – mostly under $70

Pixie Market (sale items are often around $50-70)

Banana Republic (especially the sale section)

Everlane/Abercrombie have their gems – some of the trouser/outerwear quality is iffy, though

Lioness/DISSH

Frankie Shop (in-house brand – on sale it's similar to Mango prices)

Maniere de Voir (mostly under/around $100, TOP quality for the price)

Shoprumored

Mango/COS (better than other fast fashion choices, IMO)

Hope this helps xx

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sleekervae · 4 months

Text

New York Romantic .5

Masterlist

a/n: Happy new year everyone! I'm so sorry I've been MIA in recent weeks. I've been going through a depression spell over the holidays, but I'm trying to come out of it. I promise I'll be updating my other stories, slowly but surely as always. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this update!

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: a soft snow day in new york

word count: 5181

taglist: @watercolorskyy @carolanns-world @alana4610

The hallways were relatively quiet, a handful of students were cleaning out their lockers and studio spaces for the winter break. Tom didn't have much in his own locker, just some loose papers and a couple of text books. He wasn't too pressed to notice somebody walking upon him until the lockers thudded and shifted under the weight of someone's shoulder ramming into them. Tom glanced up to find Daniel staring back at him, sharp almond eyes reminding him of a cat with a mouse narrowed in his gaze while sidling up beside him with a disarming smile.

"Hi!" he greeted cheerily.

"Hi," Tom nodded back, "You're... Daniel, right?"

"Yeah! You're an acting major, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm Tom," Tom put his hand out for Daniel to shake, though the spindly dancer shrugged him off. Tom didn't think anything of it and continued to sort his things.

"Nice to meet you. I don't wanna be brash right before the break, but I've noticed you've been talking to Noelle quite a bit lately," he said.

The mention of her name caused Tom to pause; he straightened his posture and turned back to the dancer.

"Yeah... she's my neighbour," Tom replied cautiously, sensing an unspoken tension in Daniel's words.

"Do you like her?" Daniel asked.

Tom shrugged back, "Yeah. I mean she's very nice," he replied, itching to get to the point of why Daniel wanted to talk about this.

Daniel's smile faltered, a touch of protectiveness entering his voice. "Look, man, I've had feelings for Noelle for a while now. We're kind of a thing, you know?"

Tom fidgeted uncomfortably. Not once had Noelle, Bianca, or anyone in her circle mentioned that she had a boyfriend, "She's not your girlfriend, though,"

Daniel's expression turned stern, his tone more forceful, "Not officially, but we're getting there. It'd be best if you didn't get too close. Just to avoid misunderstandings,"

Tom hesitated, struggling to articulate his thoughts, "I-I'm just -- I didn't mean to —"

Before Tom could finish, Daniel's demeanor stiffened, a hint of displeasure flashing across his features, "You kissed her at Josh's party, didn't you?"

Tom's gaze faltered, "Well, yeah... but it was truth or dare," he shrugged back, discomfort tingling up his spine.

Daniel refrained from scoffing, "Well, next time either pick truth or take the shot. Because you may be all cool with your British accent and your Shakespeare, but I saw her first,"

At that, Tom's discomfort turned to a subtle anger, "I haven't done anything wrong. She's not your girlfriend and she can do as she pleases," he replied.

Daniel was about to rebut when his friends called for him at the end of the hall, "Daniel! You coming?"

Daniel straightened up, his expression firm and his lips feigned a smile, "Just mind your business, man," just to add insult to injury, he reached out and popped the collar of Tom's button-down before sauntering away. Annoyed, Tom adjusted his collar back into place, trying not to glare a hole into the back of the dancer's head.

School was out for the winter, Julliard's halls were empty and students had taken off from the break. Tom woke up two days after school's end and found the city glittering absolutely glittering. Overnight, a gentle blanket of snow had delicately wrapped itself around the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, transforming the usually hectic urban landscape into a picturesque winter wonderland. The snowflakes continued to gracefully fall from the heavens, painting the cityscape in a pristine coat of white. The delicate snow-covered branches of trees along the sidewalks added a touch of ethereal beauty, creating a breathtaking contrast against the steel and concrete structures. As the city stirred to life, there was a palpable sense of awe and wonder within Tom at the enchanting transformation that was downtown Manhattan.

Sunny had left the day previous, fearful that the snow would hinder his flight to Birmingham, so Tom was left to his own devices in the apartment. Noelle's family was supposed to arrive today as well, just in time for her department showcase in a couple days. Tom hadn't spoken much to her after that party, he wasn't sure what to say -- if he should say anything at all.

He would be lying if he said he hadn't thought back to that kiss, replaying moments in his head as he laid awake in bed. He could still feel the ghost of her soft lips imprinted on his, the tang of her cherry lip balm against his tongue, how easy and natural it felt to have her in his embrace. The giggling and snide comments afterwards didn't phase him so much as his own fears did. It was a dare after all, it wasn't supposed to mean anything.

So why was he still so affected after a few days? And why was Daniel so suddenly possessive of Noelle?

He went about his day as per usual, oatmeal for breakfast and lounging on the couch with Netflix. Despite the heavy snow, he could still hear the cacophony of traffic blaring just outside his window, the pane itself was covered in beautiful, delicate curls of frost. He checked in with his mum as well and she spent about fifteen minutes showing him all the decorations she and his sister had put up. She reiterated that it wouldn't be the same Christmas without him, but as long as he was safe and having fun with friends then she wasn't worried.

And Tom wasn't going to be completely alone, there were a couple friends sticking around in the city he would hang around with; Jordan being one of them. And not to mention he still had Doris' dinner offer on the table if he felt so inclined.

It was peaceful, tranquil, and by the time the early afternoon rolled around Tom was close to falling asleep on the couch. That is until he heard a knocking at his door. Tom figured it might've been Doris checking in, but she would've been hollering for him. And then he heard it:

"Tom? Are you home?" it was Noelle.

Why was she still here? She should've been downtown with her family at this rate. Nevertheless, Tom threw on his slippers and shuffled over to the door, and sure enough he found Noelle standing in the threshold, bundled up in her coat, boots and toque.

"Hey. What're you doing here?" he asked, leaving against the door frame to offset his nerves, "Aren't you supposed to be downtown?"

"I was," she nodded, "But my aunt called and their train got delayed because of the snow and it's a whole mess right now. They're hoping to catch the one tomorrow," she explained, "But I mean -- I was wondering if you had no plans today... do you wanna hang out?"

His anxiety lessened, endeared with her big brown eyes and wistful smile, "Yeah, yeah I'd love to," he replied with a nod, "You're going out somewhere?"

"I'm getting some groceries at Paddy's. Leave it to Bianca to forget to stock up before she left," she chuckled, "I should be back in about thirty minutes, I just wanted to catch you early,"

"Well, how about I come with you?" he offered.

"Oh, it's okay. I'll be fine," she assured.

He scoffed back, "Well maybe, but you shouldn't have to take all your stuff by yourself. Not in this weather, anyway," he replied, "-- I'd feel better coming with you, I mean,"

Noelle pressed her lips together, trying hard to bite back her smile. His own lips held a half purse, his big blue eyes blown as he feigned a pout.

"If you're sure, then yeah! I wouldn't mind the company," she said.

He went to grab his snow boots and coat -- grateful his mum had shipped them over a month early -- and ventured out into the cold alongside Noelle. There was a moment of hesitation in the back of his mind, wondering if he should've taken Daniel's warning more seriously. But on the other hand Noelle wasn't his girlfriend, nor was she Tom's, and if she wanted to hang out with him then who was he to deny her?

If he thought he was cold within his apartment then he would've been laughing, a sharp cold wind immediately nipped at his nose and eyes. The usual walk to Paddy's was a little more chaotic then usual, snow had piled onto the sidewalks as high as mid-shin -- well, for Noelle at least. Tom was bemused as he watched her stomp heavily into the snow banks, almost hopping from foot-to-foot. Despite his entertainment, he offered her his hand, helping guide her along until they came to the already shovelled walkways. Neither of them bothered to unlatch their hands on the stroll over.

Stepping inside Paddy's was scarce with people, two store attendants were shovelling snow out of the entrance while another was struggling with a large bag of melting salts. Tom grabbed a cart and his hands stung at the frigid cold on the hand rail. Nevertheless he planted his foot on the bottom rail and sailed in right past Noelle.

Noelle quickly caught up to the young actor strolling down the baked goods section, having now collected a few necessities. Tom already had thrown in some fruit, vegetables, cereal, a gallon of milk and a bag of pretzels. His eyes were scanning over display case filled with cookies, small cakes, and croissants. They were a pretty decent size, dusted in powdered sugar and appeared flakey and soft. He had asked for two from the bakery attendant just as Noelle had come over with a plethora of goodies in her arms.

"What's all this?" he asked curiously, his eyes skimming over the packet of sausages and box of pancake mix.

"You ever do brunch?" she replied, her eyes glimmering in excitement.

"Not very often," he admitted, his intrigue spiking, "Do you?"

Noelle dropped her items into the cart, sporting a satisfied smirk, "Only when I don't feel like eating instant noodles for the third time in a week," the attendant had just placed the bag of croissants on the countertop for Tom, "What's that?"

"Croissants," he replied simply, "Would they be acceptable for brunch?"

"Is the pope a catholic?" she simpered, "We should get some jam, then -- rasp--"

"Raspberry?" they spoke in sync, bashful grins exchanged in tandem with lithe chuckles and blushing cheeks. Tom placed the croissants in the cart along with the rest of their goodies.

The snow had began to fall again as they trudged back home, hand-in-hand. Neither Tom nor Noelle mentioned it, both silently reassuring themselves that their joined hands were merely for stability on the slippery ground. But as they walked along sidewalks meticulously cleared of snow for easy passage, Tom wondered if that explanation held true at this point.

Nevertheless, Tom did his best to help Noelle as much as he could, keeping shells out of the eggs he cracked and doing his best to avoid grease spatter. Frost curled across the glass window panes, snow continued to pile anew across the cityscape, and yet Tom and Noelle remained safe and warm in their little sanctuary, the tantalizing smell of bacon and sausages wafting through the air while music drifted softly from Noelle's small speaker set up.

There was a jar of open peach jam on the table, to which Tom happily took advantage of to smear across his croissant. Noelle had settled for butter on her own, noting how Tom's face seemed to fall in disappointment after one bite.

"Is it okay?" she asked tentatively.

"Yeah, not as crispy as I'd like it to be," he nodded.

"Probably because it sat in the bag for about an hour," she shrugged back, "Or grocery croissants don't usually tend to match up with the elite bakeries,"

"Probably," he agreed, "But I love them, anyway. My dad used to bring us croissants from this bakery on Saturday mornings -- and I swear to you, they were the most amazing croissants I ever had in my life!"

Noelle grinned, his enthusiasm rubbing off on her as she cradled her chin in her hands, "Most amazing croissants? That's a pretty bold statement, considering where you are," she chuckled back, 'But that's a really sweet memory. I bet he was a really great dad,"

"He was. When I saw him, anyway," Tom nodded, "He was always working on the show, even before my parents separated. But he did his best to make time for us, and every time -- even if we just stayed home and watched movies, we always had a great time," his voice harboured a lilt of sadness, ruminating for the things he missed most. He didn't want his face to betray his feelings in front of Noelle, though it wasn't hard for her to pick off his demeanour change.

Her expression softened, her chest tugging at the shift in his gaze, how his words drifted into nothing. Without a second thought Noelle's hand slid across the small dining table, at first her finger tips simply nudged his, then slipped over them. Tom was brought out of his headspace the second her chilled hand fell over his, so small and dry, but nevertheless her skin was so smooth, carrying a few blemishes in the form of paper cuts and unevenly filed nails.

"He sounds like he was wonderful man," she smiled, "I think I would've loved to have met him,"

He began to relax into her touch, it all felt so natural and cozy, although he began to remember:

"-- you may be all cool with your British accent and your Shakespeare, but I saw her first,"

And with that Tom pulled his hand away. Noelle's smile disappeared.

"I'm -- I'm sorry," he stammered suddenly.

"No, no, I'm sorry," she shook her head, "I didn't mean to overstep --"

"You didn't!" he exclaimed quickly, then brashly scolding himself for raising his voice, "Sorry. I just don't want to..." cross a proverbial line? Get his ass handed to him by a neurodivergent hip hop major?

"You didn't do anything wrong," she assured him, her fingernails began to scratch at the faded wood top, "-- I know we haven't really spoken since the party... but if that kiss made you uncomfortable --"

"Not at all," Tom shook his head, "I mean -- I mean, I knew it was for a dare. I just don't want to put you in any awkward position,"

Noelle cocked a brow, "How do you mean?" she asked.

He was a little uneasy as he blurted out, "... Well, I don't want to put you in an awkward position with Daniel, is all," he replied.

"Daniel?" she nearly scoffed, "What does he have to -- oh God," she sat back in her seat, her eyes rolling, "What did he tell you? That I'm his girlfriend?"

Tom shrugged, "In not so many words,"

She began to snigger, "Oh, he wishes. We went on one date at the beginning of the summer, but we didn't have a spark -- I didn't, anyway. And of course he didn't get the hint. I can't really avoid him because we're on the same floor, so I grin and bear it for a few minutes until I find an out. If he said something to you, I'm really sorry,"

Despite how selfish it may have been, Tom began to feel better knowing that. He too let out a chuckle, "He does seem like he's a little bit in his own world," he said, "You don't have to apologize for him, either,"

"I know. But I promise you he's harmless," she replied, "And he has no right going around to my friends and telling them off, either. I'll handle it,"

"That doesn't seem fair to you," Tom noted, "Have you thought of reporting him?"

"To who? The faculty?" she scoffed back, "What're they gonna' do?"

"Well, something if you report him for harassment," he said.

"Honestly it's not that big a deal," she smiled, hoping to settle his worry, "I'm a big girl, you don't have to worry about me, Tom,"

Tom smiled back, "I never doubted you could handle yourself, but I'm still allowed to worry," feeling cheeky, he reached over with his fork and stabbed into a grape, popping it promptly into his mouth.

Noelle gaped dramatically, then she began to pout like a grumpy child, picking up another grape and hucking it at him, "Stop stealing food from me! I'll fight you!" she cried defiantly. Tom simply laughed as it bounced off his chest.

Not soon after the dishes were placed in the sink and the table was cleaned. The pair settled onto Noelle's couch for another movie, with Tom insisting she could pick the movie this time. She decided on Die Hard -- the truest Christmas movie out there. She had also fetched a bottle of gin, from where Tom wasn't so sure, orange juice, and two glasses.

"Aren't you supposed to be twenty-one to drink here?" he asked, giving her a playful side eye.

Noelle glared back, smirking, "Who are you, my dad?" she quipped back.

"Certainly not," he chuckled, "And if you ever call me such, we'll see what happens to you,"

Noelle rolled her eyes, bumping his gently with her elbow as she poured them drinks, "Okay, okay," and she handed him his glass, " -- how would you feel if I called you 'mom'?"

He paused momentarily before taking a sip, eyeing her up and down as she tried to bite back her growing grin. The moment felt all too uncanny, though Tom had no complaints. His best form of retaliation was to reach over and tousle the top of her hair. Noelle whined and tried to push him away, shaking her hair back into place with one last glower thrown his way. Bear in mind she made no move to slide away from beside him.

The movie started as normal, and both Tom and Noelle had seen it a handful of times over to know how the fallout opens, how the terrorists take control of the building, how McClane shoots at the police car as his only form to get help. So it was any wonder Noelle couldn't find herself to focus.

Tom was -- in not so many words -- hot. Temperature hot. She couldn't deny she found him attractive as well, but his body radiated heat like a human furnace, it was near impossible for her to not want to come in closer. The warmth was taking its toll on her, and she had to wriggle out of her sweater to get some relief.

Her movement struck Tom's attention, he couldn't help but peak out of the corner of his eye. His eyes flitted over her chest, skin tastefully covered by her tank top but he still couldn't help himself. He blushed when he met Noelle's gaze, realizing he'd been caught and grinned bashfully. Noelle shook her head and made a face, diverting her eyes back to the screen but on the inside she had to fight to keep herself together.

Paying attention to the film at this point as near-impossible, Noelle's mind was somewhere else. Specifically focused on her friend; emphasis on friend. Thought nevertheless she noted how much bigger he was then her, slim physique overall but he bore broad shoulders, long legs stretched out in front of him. Tom appeared a little younger then twenty-one and despite that, he was so mature beyond his years. And old soul.

Her brain flickered back to that party, that damn kiss, all the same flustering as it was breath-taking. She hadn't kissed many guys in her twenty-years of course, but she had never been as electrified as she had been when she tasted the whiskey off of his lips.

Noelle sipped her gin and juice, hoping to hydrate her suddenly dry throat. Alan Rickman's character was suddenly commiserating on his first meet with John McClane, and she suddenly had an idea.

She turned to Tom, "Would you rather be the good guy or a bad guy in an action movie?"

Tom chuckled, "Bad guy, obviously. But it depends on what my goal is,"

"Okay then, what would motivate you to take over the world?" she asked.

"Power, of course. But I don't want to be a psychopathic trigger-happy, domineering villain. The good villains are slick, charismatic, and well composed, like this guy," he pointed to Hans Gruber, "That guy is so smooth and so compelling he could sell water to a fish. Lulling you into a false sense of security. I'd be that villain,"

Noelle simpered, "Remind me to stay on your good side if you were to go power hungry,"

"Well, how about you?" he asked, "Hero or villain?"

"Villain, of course," she replied, "I'd be an Ursula-type villain. Or Maleficent. Just bat-shit crazy magical and maniacal, and I'd get to turn into a giant monster if I so please,"

Tom cocked a brow, "You want to grow into a giant sea witch?"

"Well, yeah!" she nodded, "You think I asked to be this short?"

He laughed, shifting away ever so slightly as though she may grow at any instant. Noelle pouted back and crossed her arms; but she couldn't help but smile when he moved back beside her.

Tom couldn't lie, he was still nervous around Noelle, but she always managed to put him at ease. She was so laid back, and after all, it was hard to be intimidated by a beautiful girl when she was comparing herself to campy Disney villains.

As they watched the movie, Noelle's gaze darted to Tom now and again. She flitted over his sharp profile, and his cheeks and nose still held their tinge of soft pink, a delightful contrast against his pale complexion. And the curve of his lips was pure... temptation. The inkling struck her, she wanted to kiss him again, she wanted to kiss him so badly.

God, you're ridiculous, she chided to herself. He only kissed her because Iseul dared him to, that was all. And if Daniel was already giving him flack, chances were he wouldn't want to be wrapped up in that in any way. And who was to say he even found her attractive, for all she knew he had a girlfriend waiting for him back in England.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked suddenly.

Tom nearly choked on his drink, "No," he replied, "Why?"

"I'm just curious," she shrugged back, "... You met anyone you'd consider asking out?"

"In drama? Nah," he shook his head.

"What about outside of drama? The opera majors are gorgeous," she noted, why she was talking about this she wasn't so sure why. She blamed the gin for the most part, though her own inhibitions were playing their part.

Tom smirked at her, "Are you trying to set me up?" he asked suspiciously.

She simpered back, "Uh -- no. I don't do the whole match-making thing. Iseul on the other hand is like a friggin Korean cupid," she shook her head.

"Was that her intention at the party?" he asked, "Trying to set us up?"

Noelle refrained from rolling her eyes, "I don't know. I think she's just sadistic of something. But... if that dare made you uncomfortable,"

"-- It didn't," he assured her, his deep blue eyes meeting hers, "If it had I would've said something. So please, don't worry," he assured her with a grin.

Noelle pouted back, "I'll worry about you if I please," she retorted.

He feigned shock, his hand coming over his chest, "She worries about me, oh my gosh!" he mocked, much to her amusement.

"Don't let it go to your head," she poked at his nose just for good measure.

His nose twitched, his gaze falling over her again in a hot, lingering perusal crackling over her skin like a live wire. This time there was no mistaking the interest in his eyes.

Should she make a move?

Could she cross that line again?

Lean in closer, ask if she could kiss him, or better yet ask if he could kiss her. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts she hadn't even realized the credits playing over the screen.

"Do you want me to go?" he asked.

His posh voice startled her, and she realized she hadn't made a move to turn off the movie.

"No, I mean -- you're more then welcome to stay. If you can handle putting up with me any longer," she tried to joke. But it was reigning true, she didn't want him to leave.

Tom grinned bashfully, "As horrible as that sounds, I'll try to pull through," he replied.

"But if you're tired --" she began, "I don't mind if you want to --"

"I'm fine," he nodded, "If you don't mind having me over, that is," he found it odd how suddenly she seemed so nervous, perhaps he ought to take that as a good sign?

"I don't mind at all," she replied, "I like having you around. It's your turn to pick, anyway,"

She likes having me around, he hoped his face wouldn't betray how his chest swelled, the heat in his body suddenly elevated, "How about Elf?"

Suffice to say, another movie turned into another, and then another, and before neither of them could realize they had fallen asleep on the couch, curled up together as the snow continued to fall over the city.

All was quiet, peacefully so as the sun broke out over the Eastern horizon. The snow stopped at some point during the night, glimmering in sun rays like millions of Swarovski crystals bejewelling the skyscrapers and cars. And in that tiny apartment Tom and Noelle slept soundly, cozied up with arms wrapped the other, the laptop screen having gone black hours ago.

As the light peaked through the curtains, Tom couldn't help but begin to stir, blinking sleep from his eyes as he realized he wasn't in his apartment. The previous night came rushing back in a flood, and if he were more awake he may have jumped to find Noelle swathed in his arms. Though she continued to sleep, her button nose buried in his chest and her lashes fluttering as she continued to dream. He wondered what she dreamed about, if she enjoyed her dreams or if she slipped into a thick state of time-stopping nothingness.

It was Sunday, there was nowhere for them to be, no need to get up, no need nor want to move from that very position. The wall clock, though a few minutes ahead, indicated it was somewhere around nine. He wondered if her asking about his dating life was a ploy, or sheepish way in to test his interest.

Tom settled back into the couch, cradling her close to him, pretending for a moment that maybe, just maybe, this could've been his life; their life.. His eyes slipped shut and he inhaled sharply, unable to help but smile as Noelle wriggled to get comfy against him. He too would've fallen back to sleep, if not for the sudden knocking on the door.

Tom thought he was imagining things at first, but sure enough there was another knock. Perhaps it was Doris? Or Bianca? No, Bianca was out of the city and she had her own key anyhow. Nevertheless, Tom didn't feel it was right to answer Noelle's door.

As much as he hated to wake her, he nudged her gently, whispering her name until she too came to consciousness. Her head lulled from side to side, taking stock of the mess on her coffee table, the mess they were on her couch. She rubbed sleep from her eye as she yawned.

"What's up?" she grumbled groggily.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but there's someone at the door," he mumbled.

The seemed to light a small fire under her, she sat up promptly and did a quick stretch, "Maybe Doris wants to collect rent before Christmas?"

"Is she allowed to do that?" he asked, his eyes never leaving her as she started for the door.

"Probably not, but she's also not supposed to be splicing cable from her neighbours and yet..." shuffling in her fuzzy socks, Noelle pressed up on her toes as she peered wearily through the key hole. Who she saw on the other side made her heart stop, "Holy shit!"

"Who is it?" Tom asked, vividly more awake now. The knocking continued.

"I'm coming!" she then turned to him, sheer panic befalling her face and she clawed her fingers through her hair, "Put the gin bottle behind my bedroom door and smooth out your shirt. You got here ten minutes ago and we're trying to decide where to go for breakfast,"

"-- What?"

"Just trust me! Go!" she waved him off. Tom didn't argue, snatched the gin bottle and glasses for good measure. He disappeared down the hall, figuring the open door was Noelle's bedroom.

Slipping the glassware behind the door, he paused momentarily to take a glance around her room. It was a small space, soft grey sheets and pillows were messed and unmade with a few clothes sitting untouched overtop. Papers and books were stacked and scattered across her little white desk, and Ikea special from the looks of it. There was a clothing rack of clothes hung up, a few more folded and sitting next to the line of the three pairs of shoes she owned that weren't ballet related.

Tom froze suddenly when he heard a loud exclamation from the door, "Surprise!"

Smoothing out his shirt wrinkles and tousling his hair, Tom wandered back into the main area of Noelle's apartment, finding her embraced by an older couple and another young girl. The older gent was bringing the suitcases into the apartment while the young girl was trying to upkeep some conversation with Noelle through the older woman's fawning and preening.

"What're you guys doing here? I thought your train wasn't coming until later?" Noelle gaped.

"We were able to get a late train last night, it just missed the snow storm coming in!" the older woman exclaimed.

"And checkin's not until eleven so we thought we'd swing by and surprise you!" the older man added.

Tom stood in the mouth of the hallway momentarily, just watching, bemused and taken with who he assumed was Noelle's family. The young girl suddenly turned, just to take a look around the space at first when her gaze fell on top. She nearly jumped out of her nikes.

"The hell are you?" she snapped, prompting the other's attention to turn to him. The fawning and happy reunions came to a sudden halt, with Noelle slipping out of the woman's grasp to get everyone acquainted.

"Uh -- right. Sorry, um -- this is Tom. He's my friend from school," she introduced, smiling assuringly at him, "Tom, this is my Aunt Franca, my Uncle Maurice, and my cousin Chiara,"

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the hunger games x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #original story #original female character #imagine blog #imagines

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lizardaggro · 6 months

Note

Heyo, in regards to the bully Au, Do you think that if yuu tells them exactly why they are ice-ing them out of their life they will become better?(I high key doubt, as clearly yuu told them before what was wrong but it was brushed off and not taken seriously but i legit wonder why they thought bullying yuu was a good idea when literally *points to Azul's overblot* I personally feel like the tweels and Azul especially deserve the ice-ing for their bullying.)

hey anon thanks for the ask! these literally make me so happy it's definitely my favorite kind of notification to get! good timing too as i was about to get on my laptop anyway.

you're really asking all the hard questions here huh? no complaints though i like developing my lore! i'd say that when yuu/reader/mc clearly articulates to everyone that they hate them now, they'll have a change of heart all right, but won't exactly become "better." i've mentioned this before, but my goal is to make the boys more yandere instead of just a little bit, but i'll never add anything like non-con in my works. so they'll likely become more possessive and try to outdo each other, but still not having yuu/reader/mc's best interests at heart. that said, some of the characters, such as lilia and malleus as stated in part 3, never outright bullied them, but they're still mad because they could've done something to help them and didn't.

as for why they thought bullying yuu/reader/mc was a good idea, i don't really have much of a good answer, sorry. the tweels don't strike me as exactly feeling bad that azul got bullied, but i don't think azul would be so outright about it. he'd probably moreso try to pressure them into signing a contract that's secretly something binding them to him.

sorry if the explanations didn't quite answer your questions. i didn't make this au, this is just my spin on it, so i'm really just winging it!

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst bully au #twst bully!au

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strawberryya · 1 year

Text

loving you is so easy

Minghao x reader

request: 13, 14, 28 with Minghao ? I think it would be so cute and funny I can’t

13: “my head hurts.” “that’s just your brain trying to comprehend its own stupidity.” 14: “Well, my middle finger salutes you.” 28: “Oh god, that was cheesy.”

synopsis: a simple art museum date with your boyfriend along with a very serious arts-and-crafts competition can be exactly what one needs every once in a while.

currently playing: loving you is so easy - HONNE

word count: 2.9k

genre/contains: fluff, mentions of food and headaches, banter and art-talk

rating: sfw, all ages

a/n: helloooo, so I wrote this forever ago and just never posted it TT sorry anon for this slow response!

.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・.

It was amazing, you thought, how a person could have something like this existing solely in their head and then make it appear in our reality, visible to not only oneself but many others for many years to come. In front of you, was a field of tiny flowers on a huge canvas. Stuck in time, forever blooming.

“I like this one,” you said longingly.

“I think it captures the sadness of spring very well, it’s good,” Minghao agreed, adding his own interpretation of the painting as well.

You nodded, not wanting to admit that you hadn’t understood the actual concept until he said it and that you had pretty much just liked the pretty colors used in it along with the feeling it gave you. Of course, the sheep did add to it, placed sporadically throughout the landscape filling the inside of the frame.

Beside you, Minghao was standing, now turned to you and grinning behind his mask. His giggly voice startled you in your wandering train of thought, “It’s because of the sheep isn’t it?” he asked. You looked at him with wide eyes, your mouth slightly agape behind the mask covering your face.

“How did you know?!”

“You had a goofy smile, you always have that goofy smile when you see something cute that interests you,” he said, still giggling as he explained.

“You can’t even see my face Hao!” you exclaimed, wondering how the hell he had been able to read your mind like that.

“It’s the same expression you have when you look at me most days…” he teased and turned his gaze back to the framed canvas.

Giving him a small bump to the side you too turned back to the flower field. “So annoying,” you mumbled, “but yes… I like the sheep…”

This time it was you who got a small bump to the side, and as you stabilized yourself Minghao bent his head just enough to be able to bump his head with yours. There was no way you could hold onto your forced pout any longer after that. In response, you unraveled the arms you had crossed and let them drop to your sides, the one closest to Minghao’s open and welcoming hand reaching over discretely and embracing it, intertwining your fingers with his and feeling him squeeze your hand.

You knew what he meant by it, and the butterflies in your tummy fluttered up and warmed you up from the inside.

The next painting was one that Minghao knew more about. Apparently, it was rather famous, and he spoke about what he knew about the artist and how they were one of the people reimagining how to use the mediums popular during that time. When he was done with that one you continued over to a much bigger canvas, portraying some kind of mermaid. She was rather beautiful you thought, and when you said so Minghao agreed wholeheartedly.

“She is beautiful, but she also seems so unfulfilled, something in her eyes seems to be longing for something,” he said, articulating things you had only felt but not seen clearly until then.

You nodded thoughtfully, “At first it looks like she’s staring at the audience, but the more you look the more her gaze seems so distant like she sees right through us and past us into something we can’t even fathom,” you continued, and Minghao seemed entranced by your words, listening to you figuring out what the painting meant to you.

The two of you continued like this for hours, wandering through the giant rooms decorated and embellished to match the frames and art they housed. Some of the paintings made you reflect and speak about what it could mean. Minghao had more knowledge than you ever thought possible about some of them and you listened to everything he had to tell you about what you were looking at.

Other paintings you both just looked at, and some you found hilarious. The ones with owls were especially funny to you for some reason, so every time you saw one either in the background of the painting or smack dab in the middle, the person who noticed it first exclaimed a hushed kind of “Owl!” and the other then has to respond with a “Hoo,” and of course, the other is required to say “No, it’s just an owl I don’t know it by name,” making you both giggle and move quickly away from the turning heads wondering what was so funny about the picture that it had you two laughing your lungs out.

The day had been passing like this and you were starting to feel tired from it all, a headache making its way to your head, causing you to lose more and more interest in the beautiful art all around you.

“My head hurts,” you said, rather emotionlessly, as you stared at an abstract painting mainly in primary colors that looked a lot like a pile of messy blobs to your tired eyes.

Minghao assumed you were joking and commenting on the painting and decided to take another playful shot at your statement.

“That’s just your brain trying to comprehend its own stupidity, don’t worry too much about it,” he said, bumping your arm to rile you up and make you fire back your usual retaliations.

However, you just shook your head, “Hao, I’m serious. It’s pretty bad,” you said as you looked at him, your ailments showing in your eyes; at least to his eye, trained to spot any and all things going through your mind through your face.

“How long has it been this bad?” he said, his tone shifting into very worried and cupping your face in his hands.

“It’s been creeping up on me but I didn’t think it would become this bad,” you admitted, making Minghaos eyebrows knit together in worry.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand in his again, leading you away from the art in the big rooms, “let’s see if water and food will help, and if it doesn’t we just go home.”

The theory of you being mainly dehydrated and crashing with your blood sugar was proven correct when you began feeling better immediately after you got something in you along with an entire bottle of water and a second one that Minghao told you that he would be carrying around for the rest of the day just so that this wouldn’t end up happening again.

When you were done and just sitting and chatting about this and that, the headache was pretty much gone altogether, which was a huge relief since you had wanted to try out a thing they had at this particular museum that you two hadn’t gotten to yet.

“Should we just wander a bit more and see if we can find something interesting in the ancient sections, or would you rather we start heading home? We could always order in and have a movie night,” Minghao proposed, trying to figure out how you saw the rest of the day going.

“I actually had a thing in mind that I’ve wanted to do this entire time,” you said, shocking Minghao who had no idea you had something up your sleeve that he didn’t know anything about.

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise!” you said with a sly smile.

.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・.

You had figured out exactly where the location was when you got to the museum that morning, waiting for the right time to bring him there and surprise him, but walking around had been too much fun that you had kept waiting for the right moment, and here it was.

In the room you had just entered stood multiple tables set out, some smaller and some bigger, perfect for groups and couples with any number of people. There were children and their parents, couples of all ages, and a couple of friend groups set up at the tables all around the studio. On the empty tables were just simple placemats laid out, waiting for someone to come around and create their art above them.

Art, yes, art was what you came here for. However, there wasn’t only art made by professional artists in this particular museum. There was also this art that was being made here every day, a new stream of creativity coming alive within this place of ancient relics thorugh ordinary people.

When you had seen the info about it on their website you had immediately decided that it was something the both of you had to go try out.

“What do you think?” you asked excitedly, almost jumping in your spot waiting for his reaction.

“Are we going to make something?” he asked, still not sure where you had led him.

You nodded, “They have this workshop a couple of days every week and you can choose what you want to do, you can paint with a bunch of different mediums and you can even paint pottery if you want!”

“Okay, alright, that sounds fun,” he said, looking around the room and the many shelves showing previous visiting artists’ work along with all the materials and tools available for the people coming there to use.

You were smiling and almost skipping into the room with Minghao after you, “I wanna paint on pottery!” you told your boyfriend.

“Oh, you’ve already decided? Hmm, what should I do then?”

With renewed energy, you saw your chance to get back at him for his comment earlier about you being an idiot, and you knew you had to take your shot.

“Give up. Because you will never make something prettier than the cup I’m going to make.”

It wasn’t a perfect comeback, nowhere close to perfect, but you still felt smug knowing he hadn’t expected you to return to the regularly scheduled teasing so soon after having miraculously recovered through inhaling some water. However, he was glad, which was evident in the way his face crinkled up showing you once again his cheeks rising and crinkling his eyes and telling on his mood while he slowly put up his hands in fists.

You knew immediately what he was doing when he began slowly backing away while spinning one of his hands, keeping the other still with the back facing towards you as his middle finger slowly rose to flip you off

“Well, my middle finger salutes you,” he said in a teasing tone you both used way too often.

He was about to back into a table when he turned around while you were both still laughing over your combined childishness.

“It’s on!” he exclaimed as he went to gather the tools he was planning on using and you headed off to do the same before you both convened at a table for two.

You with everything you needed for painting your premade mug ready to color however you pleased, and he, with a tiny canvas and a bunch of different paints and brushes that were placed next to the brushes you had brought.

“Let’s begin,” you said, receiving a wink back from Minghao making you frown in a ‘don’t use those cheap tricks on me mister’ kind of way.

The next hour or so was spent by the two of you deeply concentrated on your separate projects, occasionally looking up from whatever you were doing to try and catch a sneak peek of what he was working on. Of course, he caught you every time, snickering about how you were so incredibly mischievous.

When you felt somewhat satisfied you looked up only to meet Minghaos eyes curiously watching you. The side of his face was being hit so exquisitely beautifully by the warm sunlight shining in through the window beside your table. You were stunned for a moment before you could form a proper question.

“How long have you been watching me?”

“Not too long,” he said and smiled brightly.

You squinted at him suspiciously, “And you’re done already?”

“I am,” he said and nodded, not removing that grin from his face for a single second. It made you wonder what exactly he was planning on doing.

“Who should start? Also, how do we decide on the winner?” you asked, now increasingly curious to see what he has been working on this entire time, but still intent on winning over him in his own sport.

“You can start if you want.”

“Fine, I’ll start. But only because I’m super nice,” you said with a very sarcastically morally righteous tone lacing your voice.

“And because you love me,” Minghao added.

“...and because I love you,” you admitted, rolling your eyes while his eyes revealed how his smile became even bigger than before.

“Anyways, I made this mug. It has pink clouds up here, and then we have green moss down here along with these tiny pink and yellow flowers,” you began and Minghao listened and watched your show and tell with much interest, “and then… sheep.”

You reached the mug over to Minghao so he could take a closer look at the dozen or so sheep grazing the wide moss fields on the surface of your mug.

“The sheep are the best part, I won’t lie to you,” he said after inspecting them for a while, “however, the pink clouds and the green moss are very visually appealing too, very interesting choice… may I ask why you chose those two in particular?”

You chuckled, he sounded like one of the food critics on master-chef, without the iconic Gordon Ramsey vocabulary and accent that is, and now he was dissecting your mug art.

“I don’t wanna say…” you said while trying to avoid eye contact with the man currently in possession of your prized art.

“Why?”

“Because it’s too cheesy okay!” you admitted, making Minghao smile a wide smile underneath his mask.

“Please tell me anyways.”

You hesitated but decided to just tell him instead of having him bother you about whatever they could’ve meant in the future.

“It’s because… you make everything feel like pink skies and green moss okay!”

There was a moment of silence, and then he chuckled, you opened the eyes you had closed as you said the words, cringing at your own sappiness.

“Oh god, that was cheesy.”

“See! I told you!”

He laughed again, seemingly loving how embarrassed you were over having made it thinking of how he made you feel every day.

“I like it though, it’s really cute if I’m being honest.”

You didn’t acknowledge what he had said, just desperate to move on and forget about it as quickly as possible.

“Okay, your turn!” you hurried to say, bringing the focus over to what he had been making.

“You ready?” he said. You nodded and he turned around the canvas, showing you some kind of an abstract mess of colors. It was reminiscent of a galaxy, you thought as you studies his work.

“I like it… but I can’t really tell what it is…”

Minghao’s face crinkled up with a wide grin at your confession, “It’s a feeling,” he said and chuckled.

You tipped your head to the side, deciding that maybe a new angle would make you understand the feeling he had portrayed better. It did not. You liked it a lot, you really did, but you could not for the life of you put your finger on what emotion he had made.

“I’m sorry baby, I just cannot figure out what feeling. You’re gonna have to tell me before I lose my mind.”

“It’s the feeling I get when I look into your eyes,” he explained, staring right into your eyes and seeing you become all flustered at his words.

“How dare you! How dare you call mine cheesy when you had this planned all along!!” you exclaimed angrily.

Minghao couldn’t help but laugh at your aggression toward his loving revelation. You began pouting, crossing your arms, and turning your head away from him while muttering under your breath. “I despise you,” knowing he would see through your charades as soon as you said it.

“Oh, you know you love me,” he said in a smug voice as he continued finding your actions highly amusing.

“So what if I do?” you retorted.

“If you do… we can agree that your beautiful mug won our little competition,” he said, his demeanor telling you he was smirking under his mask, knowing you would admit and take the win.

“I just have to admit that I love you?”

“Yup.”

“...I love you,” you said, feeling hot as you said it, his gaze so loving and warm and stuck on you the entire time.

“And we have a winner, your gorgeous sentimental sheep mug has taken the first prize making the boyfriend end up in a lonely second place,” he proclaimed, making a cheering ‘woo’ sound as well.

You decided it was only fair that you joined in, bowing in your seat and repeating “Thank you, thank you, everyone,” as you held your first-place winning mug in your hand.

When you were both done with your ceremony you put up your art on the shelves, deciding that you wanted to leave your artwork there along with the many people who had left theirs there before you. You placed them together so they would always stay by each others’ side and left the studio.

.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・.

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

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bitch-butter · 8 months

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i've had it: a Web-focused analysis of episode 8

my babes, my babes, what can I say?

Over the years I’ve seen a lot of people saying that in “The Patrol” aka “The Last Patrol” Web is depicted as “trying to get himself taken off the patrol ”. Many long years I have rested, but now i have, in all essences, Had It with that take in light of my recent brush with death (not really, but it adds some gravitas right?).

It's Everybody's right to their own opinion, but I am here to host a Formal Rebuttal of this pervasive interpretation, because I never (even in my pre-webgott days) read That Scene as such, and I feel that this reading makes even Less sense within the full portrait of the episode. I will defend my stance with appropriate screengrabs, but unfortunately due to Max being made singularly of butts and capitalist dupes I am not able to screengrab anything that isn’t already grabbed or put on Youtube. I have much, but not Everything, so bear with me.

(This will not be a litigation of why the episode chooses to detract in myriad ways from the historical record, but suffice it to say that this episode makes a lot of choices re: who was on the patrol, why they were on the patrol, and who showed up when that are not Exactly accurate but does suit the story that they were endeavoring to tell. I’ll leave it at That.)

So, let’s get into it.

I. What is this episode about?

I spoke “briefly” but not that articulately about why episode 8 is my favorite episode on my good friend Sarah’s podcast last year, and I still stand by many of my reasons for doing so, but I’d like to highlight one element in particular.

This episode is coming hot off of the heels of one of the most harrowing episodes we’ve seen up to this point, “The Breaking Point”, and in that episode we see not only exactly what it has cost our guys to be in the Bois Jacques for so long, but we also see how this has in many ways made their bonds with each other even closer. They leave that conflict feeling tired, overworked and underfed, and incredibly protective of one another, and because we the audience got to see that we in turn feel protective of them as well.

Which is why I find the choice for Web being the main protagonist of the episode so inspired.

We are thrust immediately from this harrowing experience, as well as the lived-in dynamic with our main guys, into following a guy who disappeared from the show entirely in episode 5, which not only makes us suspicious of him but it runs up against our instincts to bond with our protagonist. We know immediately, even if we’re on a first or second watch, that Web was not in the Bois Jacques because of the visual language used to characterize him as well as his own opening narration, and as such we immediately don’t want anything to do with him because we too feel protective over our guys who were in the actual fight and we don’t want to waste our time with guys who don’t get it.

Trust and belonging. Those are the core themes of the episode in my opinion, and we see it with several characters (Lt. Jones and Web are in much the same boat because they have no trust and they don’t belong and so they have to earn them both back; Vest is trusted but he doesn’t belong not only because he’s not a guy the audience is that familiar with but because his job in the context of the show removes him from being that close to our core group). The episode is as much about those things as it is also about combat weariness, how our main guys are acclimating to the idea of the end being near, as well as the ultimate brutality and inhumanity of war on a micro level (Web’s ending monologue is a great example of this, and read in conjunction with Sink’s decision to try and send the patrol out again is a pretty good indictment of the depersonalized and mechanic way war works for a lot of people).

So, in essence, this episode is about getting the other guys, as well as the audience, to trust Web.

II. Web is a Good Character (you guys are just Mean)

How do you get the audience to trust your character (even if they don’t like him)?

They manage to accomplish this at least in part by trying to show us that even if his plans are lackluster his intentions are good, such as his initial - albeit inappropriate - happiness at greeting everyone, his reveal of who was being initially selected for the patrol, and his successful attempt to get Malarkey taken off the patrol. We see a few times that his actions have consequences, but for the most part we are able to Understand the train of thought that informs the choice. He sees that the other guys are distrustful of him and no longer want him around due to his absence from the previous episodes, something that clearly throws him off balance, and so we can progress through episode 8 with his primary motivation being to get the core group to trust him again and as such regain his sense of belonging.

We see it right away in the episode, where he greets the other guys only to be quickly dismissed and chastised for assuming a familiarity that is no longer there, and again we can infer from Eion Bailey’s performance that he not only understands that he’s made a mistake but is already internalizing that his decision to remain at the hospital was most likely the incorrect decision.

This goes directly into the motivation for telling his fellow platoon members that some of them have been selected for a patrol that most likely will be disastrous, which we can clearly see he doesn’t want to do but does in order to attempt to gain his footing back within their ranks.

This isn’t entirely successful, as the other guys seem to read it more as Web being first annoying at not wanting to tell them and then secondly unreliable because he told them in the first place. And again, we can read in Bailey’s performance that he quickly realizes that regaining his standing is not going to be as simple as he thought that it would be.

His next attempt at ingratiating himself is tied inextricably to the issue at hand. To reiterate, we the audience as well as our characters of interest have become protective over one another in the wake of the previous episode, and one of the characters who comes out of “The Breaking Point” particularly fragile is Malarkey. We have context for his emotional placement that bleeds out from the previous episode, and a lot of visual weight is given to the fact that Malarkey in particular is exhausted, depressed, and would benefit heavily from a brief respite from being on the front lines. Other characters express this sentiment In Webster’s Direction, and in search of another way to endear himself to the rest of the platoon he sets out to kill two birds with one stone by i. Getting Malarkey off the patrol ii. Getting Lt. Jones the experience he needs to hop up the ranks and go away.

This attempt is successful, but backfires again when Martin is placed in charge of the patrol instead of Jones. It is possible Web should have anticipated that due to the other man’s inexperience they wouldn’t have let him lead it to begin with, but we the audience should ideally still be interpreting at least the initial intention of the decision to be a good one. He sees that the other guys want Malarkey off the patrol, so he gets Malarkey off the patrol.

This brings us to the moment in question.

III. Let’s Break it Down: Part Un

INTERIOR - A ROOM IN lol i’m joking but what if i did do it like that

It is quickly revealed that Web’s plan has failed, at least in part. Martin has been appointed to lead the patrol, and is clearly no more eager to do it than anybody else is (except Lt. Jones), and Web clearly looks remorseful towards putting him in Malarkey’s place.

In an act of revenge he appoints Web to be translator, and Web is also not that jazzed about it but appears to accept it with a Tiny Little joke.

The scene progresses to planning the attack, and we get a few visual cues to indicate that this is a no good very bad idea and everybody hates it before the meeting ends and we hear Liebgott make a jab at Web’s attempt at a joke re: his German capabilities, to which Web gives my favorite reaction in the whole episode where he clearly wants to look directly at the camera like he’s on The Office and clowns his way out of the room.

Hard cut to everybody leaving the building, with a few of our guys in the background as Web moves into the foreground away from them (he wants to be with the cool kids but he’s Not one of the cool kids). We hear but don’t entirely see Grant saying the line “Webster. Tries to get out of everything”, but it’s loud enough that we can assume Web himself also hears this, and he has a small moment of looking back at them in response before he advances to address the officers.

He points out that both he and Liebgott speak German, and we the audience infer that having the two guys who speak German on the same patrol would be a bad idea because both of them could get taken out and then the company would be shit out of luck. Speirs is quick on his feet, and as Liebgott, Grant, and Jackson pass by he stops them and tells Liebgott he can sit this one out. Liebgott accepts, winks at Web, and gives him a joking thanks.

Web gives him a tiny half-smile, thanks the officers, and walks away, clearly not loving the fact that he’s going but not appearing resentful.

FINIS

That’s the scene of the crime. So, with this narrative context, let’s get to our second suspect.

IV. The Liebgott of it All

In black and white terms, the principal Antagonist to our Protagonist in this episode is Liebgott, even if we can all agree he’s a king and Web is Himself.

In Web’s intro to the episode he’s the character we see giving him the hardest time about being away from the company, when Web is gearing up to spill the beans about the patrol Liebgott is the one stirring the pot, and in the patrol meeting he’s the one making fun of Web for downplaying his German. Liebgott gets more weight in this episode than he has in any previous episode, and we are meant to extract from their numerous interactions that even if Liebgott is a guy that has been mostly on the fringes throughout the show up to this point he is going to be the one that makes the ultimate decision about whether or not Web will be accepted back into the group.

We have an automatic trust for Liebgott because we’ve seen and known him from the very first episode, he’s had individual moments sprinkled throughout the show, and narratively we’ve mostly seen him displaying his competency, humor, and principles. These are all things that the audience is missing in a relationship with Web, so like the other guys we’ll trust Liebgott’s assessment of Web more than we’ll likely trust Web’s intentions at face value. This gets tricky, because Liebgott is not immune to his own pettiness, and even if he Was capable of reading Web’s actions in good faith he is still going to have reservations because up to this point we have no reason not to think that Web stayed out of the fight On Purpose.

So, Liebgott gives Web a ton of shit throughout the episode, and the audience can take that as an indication that Web is not worthy of regaining his place in the group. Web also seems to realize this. If he wants to be back in the mix the person he’s really going to need to impress is Liebgott. As it goes on Liebgott’s exact intentions with Web are a little dubious, because at some points he does seem to internalize that he may be being too harsh or too resistant on Web. After Web gets outed as having told the other guys about the patrol Liebgott appears reserved, not taking pleasure in his embarrassment.

And after hearing Chuck’s pivotal line we can hear Liebgott brush it off with a “whatever” as he clearly looks towards Web in the foreground.

There are things at play in regards to how Liebgott is feeling about his own pettiness towards Web, but whatever reservations he has are not powerful enough up to this point that we take too much notice.

This, Web’s knowledge of it, as well as the throwaway line from Chuck, all inform the decision to approach the officers after the patrol meeting.

V. Let’s Break it Down: Part Deux (boogaloo électrique)

What We Know: Web is ostracized from the group and is trying to get back in, Liebgott in particular doesn’t want Web back in the group because he’s missed a formative event for the company and feels he doesn’t deserve it, and there’s a patrol that nobody wants to go on because They’re Tired looming in the distance.

With what we know (above), what we know happens in the scene (see part III), who these characters are plus their narrative intentionality (parts II and IV), and what the episode is presumably supposed to be about (part I), gives us a pretty clear indication of what Web’s intentions are when he approaches the officers. Web wants to be back in the group, Liebgott is the one he has to convince, and to put a cherry on top he clearly hears Chuck talking smack by saying he tries to get out of everything.

He prompts the officers by pointing out that Liebgott speaks German as well, and we Must assume he does this with the understanding that there’s no way they would take him off of the patrol over Liebgott.

Though we’ve seen Web make plans and have them backfire we can’t infer that he’s that stupid just based on what the show has told us about Web thus far. Socially awkward? Yes. Stupid? Not really.

There would be no way he’d think they would take him off and keep Liebgott on, and he already approaches with the knowledge that if he does earnestly try to remove himself from the patrol that would forever damage his standing in the company and he would never, ever be able to get back in with the core group. You know, that thing that’s motivating everything he does in the episode.

It wouldn’t make sense in any measure for Web to be going up to them trying to get himself removed. It wouldn’t flow with his actions in the episode, his motivations, Liebgott’s mini-arc of excluding him, and it certainly would not serve the overarching themes of the episode which are Trust and Belonging.

The perfect button to this conflict is the wink that Liebgott gives Web after being told he can stay behind. There’s a brief moment where he Just looks at Web, and there’s a definite understanding that moves between them that this isn’t the end of the road for Web’s attempts to get back in but that an Important Step has just been taken.

Web gives him that half-smile, accepts that his work is not done, and they move to their separate corners.

The culmination of these sort of swirling themes comes during the patrol, when we get a few different moments of Liebgott waiting across the river displaying clear alarm at what he’s seeing.

Given our context for Liebgott in this episode, and his primary relationship within it being with Web, we can assume this is the moment his feelings about letting Web back into the fold turn. He sees Web took him off the patrol, is now in a precarious position, and as we’ve had a few flashes of his backtracking his own pettiness towards Web we can assume this is the final straw.

He was fine holding out on Web up to this point, but he doesn’t actually want anything bad to happen to him just because he indirectly influenced Web into proving himself (even if Web was always going to be trying to prove himself).

So with the completion of the patrol two big things have occurred: Web has weathered a harrowing experience that cost the life of a beloved member of the company and as such got a small, small taste of what the rest of the company experienced in the Bois Jacques, and Liebgott has come to accept that Web’s intentions are good and he can be trusted again.

After this occurrence we see that at least as far as the other guys in the group Web is - for the most part - accepted back. Martin defends him against Cobb, and in that we can assume that the heavy lifting portion of Web's attempts to rejoin Easy have been successful. But the main character that Web, as well as the audience, is interested in is Liebgott. He's presented the greatest barrier to acceptance, and a lot of weight has been placed on he and Web's dynamic in the episode, so we have to wait and see how he will react to Web's newfound acceptance.

That leads them both perfectly to the end of the episode, where our visual cue to this is given: Web approaches the transport, Liebgott offers him his hand, Web takes it.

Poetic Cinema.

Web has regained trust, and once again he belongs.

VI. I've Had It

I own the fact that I’m feral about this episode and for the most part people don’t seem to like it that much, which is fine and I’m not here to convert anybody. Additionally, I own the fact that Web is my son and I think he’s hilarious and everybody else thinks he’s The Worst. However, I just don’t think that This particular criticism holds much water when we give it the actual reading that we’re meant to be giving it with the weight of the narrative, what we’re being told about individual characters, and the overall themes of the episode.

The truth is the truth, and we can’t All be champs.

Lol jk bc truly if you feel as strongly about this as i do (which seems doubtful lol) I am not anti-debate and I would welcome hearing why people seem so Deeply convinced of Web doing all of this just to try and get himself taken off the patrol.

(Answers I will Not accept are the kind that use Web being annoying as a basis for a read on his character motivations because girls that’s Not It.)

And so it is ~

#media analysis? on MY blog? it's more likely than you think #i think i was so haunted by the idea that i could die and people would still have this take that it propelled that i defeated my fever #band of brothers #david webster #listen lets clown on web for the Actual stuff he does that's not great aight bc This Ain't One #and i have been silent too long lol #now i'm going to dinner and i'mma get myself a Big glass of wine

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