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nanaminsmoon · 1 year ago

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babydaddy!connie x blackfem!reader

a/n: this one made my heart ache a little icl. but i had to put this song because it goes so well😭

pt.2

cw: pnv, unprotected sex, infidelity (reader cheats), connie calls reader; 'ma', 'hermosa', ”es bueno, ma?” ("is it good, ma?"), "quieres otro hijo, hm? you want a boy or a girl? dime, and i’ll give it to you” ("you want another kid, hm? [...] tell me, and i'll give it to you"),

wc: 3380

“why’s my daughter telling me you got a boyfriend?”, booming from where its owner was stood at the door, connie’s voice abruptly entered your ear canals to bring your attention to him. after hugging your daughter, you had kept your front door open for connie to come in if he wanted to. and, when he followed you both inside, you had just assumed he was bringing in your daughter’s belongings. even as he stuck around after having placed her bags in her bedroom, his presence was dashed to the back of your mind. now, as your child sat in the garden eating with her aunt, he was demanding your attention as he leant against the doorframe.

“because i do”, your eyes were trained on the soapy dishes in front of you, and they wouldn’t divert as you spoke. meaning you didn’t see the incredulous expression on your ex-boyfriend’s face, as his features scrunched at your straight forward response.

“the fuck you need a boyfriend for?”, he asked. confusion was laced through every word in that sentence to hold it together so it could leave his mouth. barely.

“because we can't fuck as friends forever, connie. at some point we both need to move on, and i have”, you answered, frankly. the decision to coparent came after you and connie decided to break up four years ago. and four long years had been hastened by sunday sunsets spent behind closed bedroom doors when he returned your daughter back to you. meaning that suspicions did rise when the emotions sprawled on your face, at the end of every week, had become more impassive—the lustful glimmer in your irises, dimming to a seemingly more platonic one. yet, connie never said anything, he just assumed you wanted space. that’s not to say that it didn’t bother him, but he knew that he couldn’t beg you to come back to him. as much as he did want to.

because, contrary to popular belief, connie had changed since you two broke up. having heard the news of you having a boyfriend, old connie would’ve had a video of some girl throwing ass on him seared into the back of your eyelids by sundown. but old connie had never developed an understanding of how important his family was, and new connie would lose his life before he lost his girls. yet, these two different versions of the same man still shared one similarity; their love for antagonising you.

“so you're just bringing randoms into the place my daughter sleeps?”, connie exaggerated as he always did, irritation audible in his tone. and you’d roll your eyes at him.

“first off, he's not a random, he's my boyfriend. and second, this is my house, i can bring in whoever i want”, you said, wiping a pan. that term, ’my boyfriend’, was an anvil that sunk connie’s intestines to his feet in a way he had never felt before. it was hard to put a finger on what exact feeling it induced, but he did know that it pressed his dreams, of getting his family back, into grains of sand that would escape his grasp through the growing gaps in his fingers.

“has she met him?”, he asked, cautiously, looking at his sock covered feet in the slippers you had always kept for him. in the past, that had been a gesture that made him feel at home with you; something that made him feel like you still cared for him the way he did you. but now, the slippers felt uncomfortable. like they were growing in size, and the only person capable of wearing them was someone he could never be—like he couldn’t fill them anymore, and you knew that so you had gotten someone else to do it.

“yeah, he came over and cooked us dinner and she loved it.”, you said, tone coming out more braggy than you had hoped. and that hurt connie more than it angered him, but the latter was the only thing he was capable of expressing.

“so what, you gonna marry him?”, those words were abrupt, even surprising connie’s ears. but they’d be met with a scoff from your glossed lips as annoyance built inside you. your love life was none of his concern, and he knew that, so his entitlement infuriated you beyond belief.

“i don't know, connie”, you said, vexed, as you waved him off, “even if i was, why’s that any of your business?”,

“’cause you're the mother of my child. as long as she's here, your business is my business”, the truth in that statement rested in what connie didn’t say. that being, you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with so, whether you liked it or not, his heart had already staked its claim on you. and he needed to know who to fend off, to keep you by his side.

no thoughts spawned in your mind at that statement, so you’d just remain silent as you continued what you were doing. that gave connie enough time to search for straws to clutch at to get you back. but he could only ever draw one. that was the one that placed a small smile on his face as his tongue swiped across his bottom lip; if connie couldn’t win your mind over, he’d try his luck at the one thing that refused to obey the former.

”so we’re done? not even one more time for the road?”, connie’s shoulder pushed his body off the doorframe, before he started making his way toward you. a stutter in your mind would replay that phrase, ’one more time for the road’, until it finally clicked.

“we're not fucking, no”, you said, avoiding eye contact.

“just quickly, ma. i know you miss it.”, connie’s smirk would only widen when his statement received no rebuttal. and it’d stay that way as he walked to stand right behind you—he’d place a hand on either side of you, pushing you right against the counter. all you could muster was a harsh swallow as connie moved closer to you, and his breath would be touching your neck as he spoke, voice lowered.

"you used to call me all the time telling me you ain't never had dick like this. and i know he ain't fucking you good enough for you to forget about me", connie’s lips brushed past your ear. a brief shudder would intensify to wring out any suppressed longing you held for him, producing a moist patch at the front of your underwear. and that was before you could even feel his desperation, to keep you his, pressing into your lower back. once that’d register, you’d have to breathe deeply to release the temptation building within you.

"i'm not cheating on my man, connie", you said, voice shaking. a sigh would fall from connie’s lips, hitting the spot on your neck they planned to cover, before transfiguring into a tingle that explored your back. one of connie’s favourite things about you was your loyalty, so that answer was expected. but he’d still kiss his teeth at the knowledge that it was now being directed toward someone else.

"then leave him", he’d say, an inch away from your neck, before his plump lips would attach to the skin there. a proprietorial mark would be etched onto your skin when connie heard you sigh out in pleasure. the erasure of all his doubts would arrive when you tilted your head to give him better access. and those doubts would then be quashed completely when your hand rose to run your fingers through his buzzcut.

a few more kisses to the neck, combined with connie’s hand venturing into the front of your leggings to rub away all loyalties to your man, affirmed connie’s statements about you missing him. but once you were in the privacy of your bedroom, he could actually feel how much you missed him; your need for him was prominent in the way you tightened around his length like you feared letting him go. this was the first time where fucking you was a welcomed struggle, pulling out of you being a necessity he wanted to avoid. mainly due to the connection of your foreheads, connie couldn’t see anything but you; the noises you made, your scent, the look he could discern in your eyes when they weren’t exploring their sockets, all of it warmed his heart in an infuriatingly delightful way. and there was no way you hadn’t missed him, and the way he knew your body inside out. the way he knew where to kiss as your legs rested over his shoulders, a pillow sat underneath your hips as your nails painted stripes onto the skin on his back. five years ago, connie fucked you in every position he could think of, but separation birthed the need for closeness. so now, whenever you two fucked, it was always in a position that allowed for his eyes to be locked with yours as his tip poked that spot that had made you nut twice already.

”es bueno, ma?”, he asked and you’d nod a reply, pulling a smile from the man above you. you were all he could see, and perhaps that’s why he saw love in everything that surrounded him.

prior to this point in his life, connie’s need to build a family with you had never been a focal point for him. but now it was all he could see; he saw it in the envy that followed him around at the sight of families happily laughing together, he saw it in the ducks dutifully trailing their mother at the pond near your house, and he felt it when the merging of you and your daughter’s giggles made his heart feel swollen in a way he could never soothe. if he had it his way, you’d both be married with four kids living in some mansion somewhere. but when push came to shove, his ideals only ever amounted to short-lived ‘conversations’ when you two were fucking,

”quieres otro hijo, hm? you want a boy or a girl? dime, and i’ll give it to you”, a fucked out mutter would always fall from your lips, and that’s the only answer he could ever get from you. because the answer you gave him any other time, tore his heart into a million pieces he had yet to locate. your boyfriend posed a new challenge for him, so connie would have to tell you how he felt before he lost you forever. feverish kisses would be placed on any skin connie would reach, as his hips sped up. pleasured mumbles would mean nothing to him, because he could feel your body warning him of your release.

”i’m yours, hermosa, just—fuck—nut on it”, he’d instruct, and your body would obey. this man was fucking you so good, you could’ve sworn you felt your soul leave its vessel, to watch you coating connie and the bed underneath you, in your arousal. and connie wouldn’t be far behind—hips losing their rhythm, and low ’fuck’s leaving his mouth before he started kissing you again.

”ifuckingloveyou”, he messily kissed onto your lips and surprise struck you so hard, you didn’t even register your own mouth speaking back to him,

”mmloveyoutoo”, those words would be enough to trigger a twitching in connie’s balls that would empty them, until he was leaking out of you.

the kiss you two shared was bittersweet, both literally and figuratively. not just due to the lingering taste of the results of your aching throat, mixing with the reason why you could still feel his lips wrapping around your clit, but also because connie felt like he was flirting with a dream that could never be realised. but that wouldn’t stop you two from losing yourself in each other and making out for a few minutes. until you’d hear a knock. all movements would be halted, and there’d be silence from behind the door. then winces, and small hisses of discomfort, would fill the space as connie pulled out of you before getting up to put his boxers on. he’d step off the bed, walking over to the door to tend to, who he thought was, his daughter.

”princesa, we’ll be out in a second, okay?”, connie shouted to the other side of the door, but the voice he heard was not the one he was expecting.

“the fuck’s going on?!”, connie’s eyes would dart back to your wide ones, before a smirk would quickly grace his face. it was clear to see that he was trying his very hardest to not burst into laughter, despite your panic being written all over you. disorientation clouded you to the point that you didn’t even realise that the shirt you decided to put on your body was connie’s. but he would. and he wouldn’t say anything, even as you walked to the door to talk to your boyfriend.

”i can explain”, is all you’d manage to get out to your man, before he’d open the door further to find connie sitting himself on the bed, covering himself with the sheets he’d just put on his lower half. the lower half of his face remained smug, but the upper half of it was focused as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him; desperate hands grappling to hold your boyfriend’s arms or hands, as he paced the room, trying to digest what he was seeing. connie’s enjoyment would be short-lived, ending when he heard the angry words your boyfriend was throwing at you.

”shoulda fucked her better, then i wouldna had to do it”, he said, still laid on the bed. the room would fall still once again, and you’d look at him in pleading. he’d shrug, but acquiesce, not saying anything after that comment. that seemed to be the final straw for your boyfriend, because he’d say something about needing to go outside before walking out.

the blustering of infuriated footsteps would fade out as you followed your boyfriend down the hallway to the front door. connie would sit in waiting, leaning against the headboard, as he contemplated what this meant for the both of you, but those thoughts would be cut short at your return. alone. it turns out, no amount of apologies or promises that this will never happen again could convince your boyfriend to stay. and, though that elated connie more than he cared to admit, he couldn’t help the lump forming in his throat at the sight of your slumped posture as you sandwiched your lip between your teeth, swallowing pained tears. that lump would block any sly comments he planned to make. in fact, he wouldn’t even speak as he got up to walk to you, hands reaching to pull you closer to him. even as you pushed him away,

”leave me alone”, you chided, quietly. but, no matter how hard you pushed, connie would overpower you to pull you into the warmest hug you’d had in months. its warmth would invite your arms to wrap around him, sobs spilling into his bare chest the second your cheek touched it. not once letting go, connie would pull you back into bed, wrap you in the sheets, before comforting you. relief drowned a certain of him as it knew that he had a chance of getting you back. but the part of him that still had its head above water wrestled with guilt; there’s nothing this man wanted for you than happiness, and seeing his hands be the ones to take it away from you pained him.

the commotion of everything numbed you to your environment, so it would be only a few moments before your distraught sobs would reach the ears of the person you wanted to hear them least. small knocks would bring yours and connie’s attention to the half-open door, and you’d try to get yourself together, but there was only so much you could do to hide the shadows of sorrow reddening your eyes, and creating darkened splotches on connie’s shirt. as soon as you saw your daughter reach up to comfort you, you’d climb off the bed and hug her, feeling your heart start to glue back together when she wiped a tear off your face. both you and connie would instruct her to wait for you in the living room and you’d begin getting dressed properly once you’d hear her run off excitedly.

the both of you would get dressed, and walk down the stairs, in silence. the most connie would provide would be an arm around your shoulder, and a kiss to your temple, which you accepted happily. and, as soon as you were within an earshot of the living room, you’d hear ’the little mermaid’ playing for the nth time, accompanied by the usual harmonisations provided by your daughter’s jovial singing. you’d be admiring the blankets, cushions, and snacks she had set up before you’d be distracted by the rustling of connie putting his shoes and coat on. every fibre of your being would beg you to stop him, but you’d try and convince yourself that he probably had somewhere to be. however, such considerations meant nothing to your hand that was already reaching to grab at his own,

”stay.”, you asked quietly, and his eyes would widen at the request. of course he wanted to stay, but he didn’t think you’d want to spend another minute around the man who had just ruined your relationship. but then once your daughter ran up to him, pouting while asking,

”please~”, his decision would be made for him.

as you watched the movie, you’d notice connie’s eyes fixated on you. at first you thought he was watching your daughter wave her little mermaid doll around but, when you’d turn to check, you’d be met with direct eye contact. his lips would fall agape only to meet again, before they’d open to allow their owner to mouth a belated apology,

”i’m sorry”, his swollen lips would trace out, and a forgiving ”it’s okay” would be mouthed by your own lips. there’d a second where you’d just be staring at each other in mutual love and understanding. it was obvious that this chapter wasn’t finished, not when the authors holding the pens had changed immensely since the day the first page of the book had been written. but small hands would rise to push your faces to face the screen, and connie’s own inability to forgive himself for his actions would shift his eyes to the floor. that’s when they’d narrow in on the slippers that did nothing but breed insecurity. a small voice in his head would ask him if they still felt hard to fill, and admittedly, they still did. yet, looking at them again, he didn’t mind that. though the future still held uncertainties, the feeling of you and your daughter leaning on him, as his arm reached around to embrace you both, filled the gaps of himself he had lost confidence in. because this was all he had ever wanted; to become a person that could be leant on by the people he cared for most. both of you. for as long as his lungs held breath, and for as long as the image of you and your child falling asleep on him every night, was the only one his subconscious could conjure up when his head met his pillow at the end of every day.

#nanaminsmooninc #aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #connie springer x black reader #connie x black reader #connie x black y/n #connie smut #aot connie #Spotify

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yandere-toons · 6 months ago

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Yandere Bakugou Katsuki (Platonic & Romantic Headcanons)

Warnings: Mentions of Child Abuse (with domestic implied in association), Bullying, Intense Violence, Toxic Mindsets.

A.N. - Usual friend/partner format is absent to denote character's complicated relationship with intimacy!

"Friend" is a word he would never use, as it implies a degree of closeness and equal standing that Bakugou struggles to accept, that eats up the freedom and control he refuses to surrender, although others apply it for him.

Despite the enforced distance, Bakugou is quick to harass and torment any who claim intimacy with you or wish to establish such. This stems less from any clash with such feelings in Bakugou and more from the simple fact that attention divided is attention lost. Additionally, letting some extra into your life is another way of calling him incapable of fulfilling that need, a grave insult that rouses him to sever this dead weight on the battlefield.

Whomsoever has the gall to take that mantle from him, a death match will settle the undying question of whether his passion can conquer theirs. If they manage a desperate escape or a swift rescue, Bakugou will forever brand them a coward and challenge them on sight to let him finish the job.

It is difficult to overstate the amount of enmity he feels for those who intrude on the relationship. All who came before him, with the superior bond of time, cluck their tongues and sneer at his efforts to surpass them; all who come sniffing after him, he refuses to see as anything other than leeches in need of plucking and destruction.

A volatile household has imbued in Bakugou a hypersensitivity to all forms of criticism. He wishes to never again feel so trapped and powerless as the loser of a fight, so he exerts a similarly aggressive level of control over others, believing violence to be the one reliable way of coming out on top.

After all, no relationship is without contest as far as Bakugou was taught: compromise and compassion are tools for the weak, who cannot stand alone and serve only to elevate the strong. Some opponents, such as his teacher Aizawa, present a challenge not undertaken without first suffering heavy penalties to his dream, and thus this battle of wills is relegated here to a more passive defiance.

Through strength and superior force of will, a connection with Bakugou can only be a deterrent to other bullies and all the Minetas of the world. It is a pathway to unmatched companionship, performance, and success. All other relationships are transient, but with Bakugou, the results are entirely concrete and, by extension, reliable. You don't need nebulous concepts like "good company" preached by lesser individuals when Bakugou will ensure the identification and erasure of all vestigial weaknesses.

Additional elements in your life are, at best, a source of concern as dead weight or, at worst, actively prohibiting your well-being by limiting your time with him. Anyone who refuses to exact their pound of flesh in the relationship is either a liar or an idiot. Lies mean danger and warn Bakugou to expect an attack; idiots are not long for this world and therefore are unworthy of his time save for the occasional heckling.

Bakugou drives himself to excel at his every pursuit, trusting in such a "mastery over all" persona to cover his weak spots and allow for nothing that others could point at as his one failure. If he wins in all contests, then who could legitimately claim he is wrong?

Bakugou thrives on any chance to flaunt his strength — but abhors the idea of being used in the same manner as a lowly foot soldier; that is, presented as cannon fodder and expected to die a forgotten tool. Such requests are seen as an attempt at controlling him, which in and of itself is indicative of disrespect and cannot be tolerated.

Any advances from another in your life, he assumes, are a deliberate slight against his pride; and the knife must be stuck in a thousandfold lest he be remembered as the simpering coward who showed his belly at the first glare of competition.

Bakugou expects a mountain of boasting and gushing at the supposedly generous act of bestowing upon you his undivided attention; he, however, remains silent on the affair so as not to suggest any emotional dependence, an achingly true reality he is certain others will prey upon with mockery and invasive questioning. The loss of control over his attachment is a long-kept secret, for once it goes beyond his immediate control, it becomes a potentially gaping vulnerability, one readily exploited by his many enemies.

Despite his best intentions, Bakugou is much like the mother he fought so hard to survive and escape, a fact he both resents and considers necessary to protect himself. Only through being the strongest, and king of the hill, will his voice and his desires never again be ignored.

Bakugou often re-enacts these fights on his own terms, where the opponent is hopelessly outmatched and he can assume the position of power, subconsciously spewing the same insults and threats that were used against him to eke out a sense of worth and control in his life.

As a youngster, Bakugou is ripe to demand participation in all group activities. He frames his team as the one for whom success is guaranteed and assures you he only partners with winners. Any who step in or challenge with another word are blown away.

Among classmates, Bakugou has made a habit of targeting your favourites and any more who dare to dream they can take his place, unable to cope with a future where he is unnecessary. He must be essential, for anything less is an insult to his capabilities and a potential source of vulnerability.

In combat exercises, no one else is allowed to engage you. Those who land even a single blow, he puts through the wall. Bakugou himself is noticeably milder with his attacks on you, taking aim at less vulnerable areas and shooting to stun rather than kill. Training with you is fundamentally still a competition, but he won't allow you to be harmed by any of the lesser candidates and would-be heroes.

For the opposing team, Bakugou displays an enduring hatred and arms his attacks with power enough to blow through the human body and split the concrete wall behind it. This is no longer a game to him, but something deeply personal.

He leaves a slot open on his team and chases away any who seek to fill it, convinced that with an ample enough show of force, you will realise the error of your ways and switch sides to the clear winner. Still, he cannot let slip that he hopes for such a thing and would be hurt by its absence. If anyone asks, the slot was left open because his team, having him as a leader, did not require full manning.

At the peak of junior high, Bakugou's emotions spiral: lunging for perceived rivals, pummeling them, and teasing an explosion down their throat. Teachers, victims, and spectators alike keep quiet, half in fear for their own safety, half in the hope that he will grow out of it. The threat of death in such encounters is quite high, but any follow-through is likely to occur after the school day ends, where no one can block Bakugou from his prey.

Still at the peak of junior high, Bakugou is king of the schoolyard, and yet, has just as little power at home as he did before. This constant failure demands more showboating and greater performance at school, lest Bakugou be unacceptably rejected as another lost cause. He will never realise his goals if the world is not reshaped as it must be.

With age comes more power, and with more power comes more wins; and soon enough, Bakugou turns his hostilities on teachers. While in grade school, the few who tried to coax him into letting his "special friend" play with other kids were dismissed as copycats of his mousy father and roundly ignored; but in high school, the many who resort to lectures and threats sound all too like his mother and trigger a host of aggression.

Calls are made to his home about increasingly violent behaviour, which in turn leads his mother to scream profanity for hours and lay hands on him as punishment. His father, shut out of the loop by a dismissive wife and an equally hostile son, mistakes the vicious cycle taking root for general delinquency. He tries to talk Bakugou into standing down, but risks his own life in the process and so remains resigned to the background.

These well-intentioned but ineffective efforts, in a tragic twist of irony, feed Bakugou's attitude that no one has his back, and he must fight to keep hold of his one safe spot in life. As his "special friend," you must see his excellence and, only in continued and ever-greater reminders, be motivated to stick with him as you should. When he decides to grace you with his presence, there will be no distractions, only recognition for the inner weakness of all who fall short of his towering standards.

Well into his formative years, Bakugou retains a growing distrust of adults, viewing them as inherently antagonistic figures who seek to smother his freedom and cannot be relied upon when it counts. They are, at best, effete annoyances and, at worst, monstrous obstacles to be endured only until they may be properly annihilated.

Conditioned to see a potential foe in everyone, only once stout trust has developed can Bakugou turn his back and not fear the glint of the blade come swinging to make him regret it. These innocuous displays remind Bakugou of how much would be at stake if the intensity of his true feelings were revealed or, worse yet, surreptitiously exposed by some gossip-prone dunce.

In the event Kirishima turns the wrong phrase, Bakugou allows him to escape with a comparatively light thrashing, whilst everyone else is subject to the uncorking of years of rage and belligerence. Only his "special friend," worth more than all others, is spared the worst of his wrath.

Nothing riles him so as a battle with an audience, and when Bakugou has someone in particular to impress, what remains of the enemy is carted off the field on a stretcher. Through an excessive response, Bakugou simultaneously asserts his dominance as the premier hero, crushing his villainous opposition, and unambiguously demonstrates why choosing him in lieu of all the others was the only sensible conclusion. Everything is right in the world, at least until the next challenge presents itself.

Strength is the greatest virtue, and nothing says "superior dedication" like dropping your worst enemy at your feet after everyone else cautioned forgiveness. Bakugou sees a downed enemy as a current and future threat, but he sees a broken and crushed one as a sign of power.

Climbing to the top rung is his way of proving, both to himself and to the world, that Bakugou Katsuki is no longer the little boy who only dreams of victory and cannot face his mother. All opponents, today or tomorrow, will be summarily crushed, and Bakugou will prove, definitively, that any opposition was wrong to contest his will. In the heat of battle, he charges to conquer, afraid only of the feeling of smallness that comes with loss.

Raised in an environment where violence was the only way to be heard and respected, backing down from any kind of challenge is tantamount to cowardice; and the cowardly have no hope in this world, merely asking to be walked over and trampled. Pity and mercy are insults from the lips of those who look down on him, who see him as no threat and wish to deepen the wound of his mistakes.

Bakugou shapes his value on what he can accomplish rather than who he is. The rage and panic after a failed exam, the violent jealousy — it all stems from one core belief: if he is less than the best, he is nothing.

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ynsvnte · 1 month ago

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Haunt me — Sim Jaeyun

pairing: agent!Jake x nurse!reader — genre: angst, some fluff, drabble — Synopsis: Who knew how would it be without his love.. thinking back to the event how he lost his only love. His last love. His forever love.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: mcd (main character death) death, blood, crying, pet names, bittersweet ending

Masterlist

recommend listening to “To get better” by Wasia Project while reading!

“Will I die..?”

Those words haunted him.. it’s been 826 days. 2 years, 3 months and 6 days.. those exact 3 words never left his mind. It became a part of him. He promised.. promised to.. be with you..till the end. As he still grieves with your loss.. he tries to recover but that seems impossible.

“No I won’t let that happen trust me.. I’ll make sure you’ll live..” you let out a sob of pain.. the pain of leaving him.. and also the pain you’re in now. “Jake but..-“

“No.. don’t finish it..” He shuts his eyes.. your blood on his hands as he tries to stop it. He couldn’t lose you. Without you he’ll be lost. He wanted to keep living for you. Even with the ups and downs of your relationship.. although you both weren’t actually together.

You cough out blood. Losing consciousness each second passing by. “Jake just so you know..”

“Stop.. you're not dying..” you reach your hand and place it on top of his while you lay on the ground. “Jake.. I love you.. so much..” you say weakly. “Please stop.. I’ll get help soon..” his vision starts getting more blurry. He couldn’t lose you now.

“I don’t want to die.. please..” you begged. “Love.. I promise.. promise once we’re both out of here.. we’ll move away for a new fresh start. None of this dirty work…” You smiled at the thought, the thought of paradise where no restrictions could stop you both. Your love was too strong. Jake’s gaze softened. Your smile was so beautiful, pretty.

His pretty girl.

“What if I do di-“ you started he didn’t want to hear any what if’s good or bad. The thought of losing you scared him to death. He dealt with many losses but this one. This one may be the worst. “I won’t let that happen.. Please just keep looking at me. Don’t think..” He didn’t want to cry not when you were on the verge of losing your life

Your sobs quiet down a bit. Slowly trying to breathe at a normal pace. You hold Jake’s hands in yours. This may be the last time. Who knows. Jake took one hand and smiled at you. He smiles, becoming weaker and weaker. The cold feeling against his skin. You have a gunshot wound.. He tried to distract you from it. Despite his own injuries. Jake picks you up, noticing you losing your consciousness a bit, but still breathing. He starts walking towards the exit. You both were so close. Until a stupid bastard decides to shoot you before fleeing.

Each step took too much effort. Exhausted reaching him. Jake pushes through. You weren’t going to die. You were going to live and move far away from this country and live a happy life. Your skin is getting colder and colder and even pale. He didn’t want to lose hope.

—

“You know you're the only person I really opened up to..” you spoke while taking a sip of your coffee. Jake stared at you in surprise. He felt his heart start racing. Was he gaining feelings?

—

“Why..? Why did you trust him? I loved you. To even think of giving up my long life dream to stay here with you!!” You yelled tears down your face.

“No it’s not that he had documents that proved—“ “Prove what! Jake.. I’m leaving. I can't be in this mess any more.” Jake stayed silent. “No you’re not leaving” you sighed in frustration, tears streaming down your face.

“I trusted you! And yet here you are.. betraying me.. Jake those papers are fake. I never worked for those people.”

—

The memories of how you got here flooded his mind. Jake pushes the door open. But it wouldn’t budge open. For fucks sakes hurry up. “Open this fucking door.” He was losing his cool each second with your life on the line. He had to hurry. Once the door finally opens he rushes through.

“You're here..” he says as he sees the team's doctor.. he sets your body onto the ground.. “Hurry up save her..” he demanded he was going to get you back. The doctor was startled. But quickly acted fast on saving you.

And 2 hours passed. He was getting anxious as he waited outside of the truck. Were you alive..? And finally once the back door opens the doctor steps out. Silence. “How’s she..?” He felt his gut twist. “I-I’m sorry..”

Jake could feel his heart crack. Bleeding out. Not you. Why you! He promised to keep you alive, but it was far too late. “What do you mean.. she still had a pulse when we got here.. how did she—“ He was in rage. History repeats itself. His life was always shitty and it just kept getting worse. Too much happened in one night.

“I don’t believe you.” He was in denial. He walked towards the doctor before he grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “Why didn’t you try hard enough?” The doctor pushes him off. “I did!.. She lost too much blood.

And here he was now.. sat down right here.. staring at your face. You always looked so beautiful. His heart is still beating for you. He visited you everyday. Never missing a day. The memories always came back whenever he was here. How he could’ve been quicker, how he could’ve stopped you from getting there in the first place.

He shakes.. tears threatening to come out. He lets go. Letting his emotion take over. He was a weak man when it came to you. You had that affect.

I miss you each day.. wishing I would wake up and the first thing I see is you. I miss the days where I would go to work and see you. The highlight of my day.

You, my love made me feel another way no else could make me feel. I love you. I fell hard for you. Even with my rough past. You managed to get past my guard, tearing it apart.

I will never let you go.. my love.. my pretty girl. You’re the reason why I live today.

To see you here laying in peace. No parasites to harm you. No one will harm you. I wish I told you how much I loved you. I had many chances, but it’s far too late. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Don’t forget that. Now sleep peacefully love.

Jake sets the flowers down on your grave, smiling. He strokes your headstone, staring at your photo. He places a kiss on it. He gets up before walking away. Tomorrow he’ll see you again, and again, and again, and again, and again…

Author’s note: So hey.. I made this after reading sinful on wattpad by tanyasapple it’s actually a Leon book but I made into a Jake drabble. I sobbed while reading it. It’s inspired by its recent update (chapter 34) Soo angst bc I’m in that mood.

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caitified · 14 days ago

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big day

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:none ( part three, part two here )

the day of the wedding dawned bright and crisp, sunlight filtering through the curtains as you stirred awake. there was a buzz in the air, a sense of excitement you could feel from the moment you opened your eyes. today was the day—after months of planning, dreaming, and counting down, you and caitlin would finally say “i do.”

your closest friends and family were already around, bustling through the house, and you could hear laughter and the hum of voices as they set up. every detail felt like a small gift, reminders of everything you and caitlin had built together. with every flower arrangement, every light fixture, it was clear this day had been made just for you two.

you met caitlin briefly that morning, sneaking one last hug before the day took off. she’d held you close, her arms warm and familiar. “i can’t wait,” she murmured, her voice soft and full of emotion. “i’ll see you at the altar.”

those words echoed in your mind as you slipped into your dress, fingers trembling as your friends helped zip it up, adjusting every last detail. you took one last look in the mirror and felt a swell of anticipation—it felt surreal, but seeing yourself ready, knowing this was the day you’d marry caitlin, filled you with a joy you could hardly describe.

meanwhile, on the other side of the venue, caitlin was pacing in her suit, grinning ear to ear as her friends teased her. she looked incredible in her deep navy suit, fitted perfectly, with subtle detailing that gave it a unique touch—something that felt distinctly like her. her friends laughed as she fussed with her cufflinks, a nervous habit she couldn’t shake. but she couldn’t stop grinning. “i just want to see her already,” she admitted, glancing at her reflection. “i can’t believe today is actually here.”

her best friend clapped her on the back, laughing. “you look like a lovesick puppy. but don’t worry; you’ll be seeing her in just a little bit. just breathe, cait.”

caitlin took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and when she looked in the mirror again, there was a determination in her eyes. she knew you were the one from the moment she met you, but somehow, knowing she’d be promising forever in just a few moments made it all sink in.

the guests began to gather, filling the venue with quiet chatter and smiles. the autumn colors you both had dreamed of surrounded you—deep oranges, soft golds, warm ambers that glowed as the sun streamed through the trees. candles flickered along the aisle, creating a cozy, intimate atmosphere, just as you both had imagined.

when it was time, the music started, and you felt your heart race as the doors opened. the world seemed to slow as you stepped forward, locking eyes with caitlin at the end of the aisle. her gaze was fixed on you, her expression soft and full of awe. she looked like she was holding back tears, and you could see her take a deep breath as she tried to steady herself.

you walked toward her, every step feeling like a promise, a memory. every laugh you’d shared, every late-night conversation, every dream you’d ever had together seemed to echo around you. finally, you reached her, and she took your hands, her touch warm and steady as she whispered, “you look beautiful.”

the ceremony began, and as you stood there, listening to the officiant, you couldn’t help but get lost in her eyes. there was a glow in them, a look that held every unspoken word between you two, all the shared moments that had led you to this exact spot.

when it came time for the vows, caitlin took a breath, her hands gently squeezing yours as she looked straight into your eyes. “i remember the first time i met you,” she began, her voice a little shaky, “i remember thinking, ‘how did i get so lucky to know someone like you?’ every day since then, i’ve only fallen more in love with you. you make me want to be the best version of myself. today, i promise to stand by you, to laugh with you, to hold you through every high and every low. i’ll be there, always.”

her words washed over you, and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. when it was your turn, you took a deep breath, your heart pounding. “caitlin, from the moment we met, you’ve felt like home. you’ve been my best friend, my rock, my safe place. i promise to cherish you, to lift you up, and to love you fiercely, through every season of our lives. i can’t wait to build a life with you.”

after the vows, there was a pause as the officiant spoke, but all you could focus on was caitlin. then, finally, the words you’d been waiting for: “you may now kiss.”

caitlin didn’t hesitate. she took your face in her hands and leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a soft, warm kiss that felt like the culmination of everything you’d been through together. cheers erupted around you, but all you could feel was her, her touch, her warmth, her love. pulling back, she whispered, “we did it.”

the reception was a whirlwind of laughter, music, and dancing. you barely left each other’s side, holding hands as you made your rounds, sharing stories with friends and family, and sneaking glances at each other as if you couldn’t believe you were actually married. during your first dance, caitlin held you close, her hand firm on your waist, guiding you in slow circles under the soft glow of the lights.

she leaned down, whispering in your ear, “thank you for making me the happiest woman in the world.”

you smiled, resting your head on her shoulder. “thank you for giving me forever.”

as the night wound down, you slipped away to a quiet corner, watching as your guests continued to celebrate. caitlin wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close as she whispered, “ready to start this adventure with me?”

you looked up at her, your heart swelling with love and excitement. “i’ve never been more ready.”

thanks for reading! requests are open.

#caitlin clark x reader #wnba x reader #wnba imagine #wbb x reader #wbb imagine #caitlin clark #iowa wbb #indiana fever

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angellesword · 5 months ago

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BAGGAGE | JJK (07)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, drama, OC cusses excessively so watch out, blood, pregnancy, discussion of abortion, giving birth

Pairing: dad! Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 6.1k

← Previous Chapter (06) | Next Chapter (08) →

****

Six Years Ago, 2017:

France was not all that you expected. One would think people pursuing their doctorate degrees would be busier with their academic lives, but it looked like French people cared more about their social lives.

"Come on, just a few more steps!" Elyna, your classmate, chuckled while dragging your warm, sweaty body across the street. She almost tasted victory when she got a glimpse of the façade of your apartment.

Admittedly, Elyna still gets jealous whenever she remembers your apartment being nicer than hers. Talk about favoritism, huh? You were both scholars of Sorbonne University pursuing your doctorate degrees, but Professor Verlaine liked you the most.

"There you go! You can look after yourself, right? Bye, cutie." Elyna kissed your cheek before practically throwing you in your front door.

You were smaller in stature compared to your French classmates, making it easier for them to push and pull you around. You groaned when your back hit the door.

You were too drunk to cuss your classmate, so you could only suck it up and push yourself to enter your apartment. After what felt like forever, you finally stumbled inside, puffing out a breath and debating whether to just sleep on the floor.

Hours of clubbing with your classmates messed you up. You shouldn't have gone with them, but those shitty French didn't really give you a choice. Even Verlaine encouraged you to go out, going as far as postponing the submission of your business paper so you could have a fun Friday night.

Verlaine's exact words were, "Have fun. You've been in France for months already. You're the only international student who hasn't gone clubbing here."

You did not care for clubs. In fact, you hated them. You only attended your graduation parties and some quiet bars with Jungkook.

"Hah! Stupid pompous freak!" You cussed your traitor of a best friend, wanting nothing but to beat yourself for thinking about that bastard. You had done so well suppressing thoughts about Jungkook for the whole day. It's ten minutes before midnight. How could you fail so miserably?

You struggled to fish your phone out of your pocket, vision doubling, but that did not stop you from sending chains of messages to Jungkook.

To: Jungkook-shit I fucking hate you traitor

To: Jungkook-shit yoi betrayed me freak,. i hope you rot in hell

To: Jungkook-shit fucker

To: Jungkook-shit i hate you so mcuch pleas fo me a favor snd die

To: Jungkook-shit i will ndcevef dorgive you digshfit

To: Jungkook-shit dick

To: Jungkook-shit duck you

To: Jungkook-shit ny heart hirts

To: Jungkook-shitcan we go back?

The last message remained unsent as your intoxication finally caught up to you. You dropped your phone on the floor, face hitting the cold tiles as darkness clouded your vision.

You fell asleep.

***

That night, you had a long dream, which you were pretty sure had happened in real life—back when you were still very small, probably at five years old.

If you thought about it, you'd say the dream slash memory was triggered by going to a club with Elyna and the others. Your dream started off in a club, too.

Your Jisoo-unnie told you to hide in the closet and never make a sound, no matter who tried calling your name. You were an obedient child, only trusting your older sister. But it didn't mean your mother was as kind as Jisoo. Your mom would boss you around as she entertained guests. You basically served as an errand girl at a young age, forced to keep your mouth shut even when you saw your mother and the other girls get violently beaten up by rogue men.

"Where is my sister!?"

You were lighting heavy scented candles for your mother and client when you heard your sister's voice.

Your ears involuntarily perked up. You threw the matchbox aside and immediately ran out of the club's private room.

"Jisoo-unnie?" You blinked innocently.

Your sister was standing there, looking as if she was going to smack your mother. But Jisoo stopped when she heard you call for her.

"Don't take her away!" Your mother screeched and tried to pull Jisoo's hair.

Jisoo dodged, immediately running toward you and hugging your frail body. She covered your ears. "I will take her away! Please. Stop it! She’s just a kid!"

"Bah!" Your mother spat. "She earns me money, unlike a brat like you!"

"I will take her place." Jisoo did not even hesitate. She hugged you tighter. "Let me be your errand girl or whatever you want me to do. I will do it. Just leave her alone."

You couldn't properly hear what the adults were talking about. Jisoo covered your ear tighter to ensure you heard nothing. It took a while before your mother spat on the ground for the second time, but she relented and let Jisoo take you away.

Your memories were pretty vague. All you remembered was that Jisoo had brought you into a tiny apartment; it was cramped and dark and smelled like dead rats. But it was better than those heavy-scented rooms at the club. At least in here, Jisoo cared for you and did not try to beat you up.

It didn't mean all your trauma would go away instantly, though. There were many moments when you would wake up in the middle of the night, silently crying because of a nightmare. You usually dreamt about your mother's client beating up girls and throwing profanities at everyone, including you.

"It's okay, my little one. Your Jisoo-unnie is here, I'll protect you." You weren't sure if you were recalling memories of the past or if it was just part of your drunken dream. All you knew was that Jisoo's warm embrace was palpable. She used to cradle your little body in her arms.

You were a docile kid, wings clipped by those men at the club. They used to threaten to beat you up if you so much as made a small noise or a mistake. For a long time, you carried that pain and refused to talk to your Jisoo-unnie, or anyone else, for that matter. At school, kids made fun of you for acting all meek and weak.

There was a time when Jisoo was called by your teacher, asking if there was something wrong at home for you to act so distantly. You were seven years old around at this time, and you still didn't understand adult words. You just recalled your teacher telling Jisoo that you needed therapy or whatever that was.

Jisoo was barely of legal age. Your mother had a cut whenever Jisoo took in clients at the club. She spent more than half her money to feed you and ensure you could attend class.

Your Jisoo-unnie only had one reminder: "Study well, my dear. That's all I ask. You can get anything you want if you're smart and have lots of money."

You still didn't speak much but diligently followed whatever your sister said. Things took a turn after your teacher talked to Jisoo. The latter took the teacher's advice to heart, but she didn't have enough money to bring you to a professional. She could simply improvise.

"My dear, there's nothing to be scared of anymore, okay? I won't ever hurt you the way they did. Here," Jisoo offered her cheek to you. "You can slap me and tell me all the bad things those men did to you, I won't ever fight back."

You shook your head rapidly, cowering. Memories of those nasty men came like a tidal wave, sweeping you off your feet until you felt nauseated.

"Sshh, my dear. It's okay. Just try, okay...You're okay."

It took a lot of conviction before you relented. Every day, Jisoo would coax you to act like a regular kid who was not frightened of acting difficult and throwing tantrums. She made you feel like it was okay to be mean and that whatever you did or said, you would still be loved—this was the beginning of you having a sharp mouth that couldn't go one statement with profanities leaving your mouth.

You got away with so many things because of Jisoo.

That had been your setup for many years, but your life slowly progressed. You worked hard in school while Jisoo did all the jobs available to her. You got out of that tiny apartment and were able to move to a new house. You were initially reluctant to leave, afraid you would lose connection with the first friend you made in the neighborhood—Jungkook.

You didn't talk to Jungkook before, either. You two would casually sit beside each other and be in your own world.

"You don't have an adult at home? Cool, me too." That was the first thing Jungkook told you. You weren't bothered by his presence before, but Jungkook had become insufferable over time, teasing you here and there until you had to snarl at him.

Despite your banter, you had grown attached to Jungkook and even begged Jisoo not to separate you. Jisoo smiled at you, ruffling your hair and explaining that you would only move to a nicer home, but it was still around the area.

You felt relief flood your veins. Things were going well. You slowly healed from your traumatic childhood as you stayed close to Jungkook and your Jisso-unnie. Your sister kept her promise, never once leaving you.

Every day, Jisoo would go home to you. You gingerly waited for your sister to arrive; you'd set aside your homework and other stuff to open your front door and greet Jisoo with a simple "Welcome home!"

You couldn't maintain your happy façade as Jisoo smiled faintly at you, coughing and smelling like smoke. There were bags under her eyes, too exhausted at her work at the club.

You were getting older. You thought you could apply for a part-time job and help your sibling with the expenses, but Jisoo wanted you to focus on your studies. She brushed your concern off, saying, "It's just secondhand smoke. You know those men at the club, they can't live without cigarettes. Don't worry."

As usual, you blindly followed your sister's request. You hid your verbal concerns and could only welcome her home with hot water with honey. You did your best to care for your Jisoo-unnie until you moved to the university dorm and got busier with school. As time passed, your time with Jisoo lessened until it reached a point where Jisoo would not contact you. She even went as far as betraying you.

She must have known, right? How could she not know that you were hopelessly in love with Jungkook? How could the two most important people in your life betray you like this?

It just didn't make sense.

But then again, nothing made sense—not when feelings were involved. For instance, you flew all the way to Europe so you wouldn't have to deal with the mess back in Incheon. You had cut off connections with Jungkook and Jisoo, but months later, right when you were recovering from your hangover from clubbing too much, was when your doorbell rang.

It's probably Professor Verlaine, you thought. You didn't bother checking the peephole because, for one, you didn't want to see your professor looking prim and proper while you looked like shit. You were still wearing your clothes from last night and you just got up from the floor. Seeing Verlaine at the peephole would make you want to freshen up first; you just didn't have the energy for that.

And for fuck's sake. It's seven in the morning. Seven! Anyone who dared to disturb you at this ungodly hour deserved to see your bed hair, drool on the side of your mouth included.

So you opened the door, fully expecting to grin at your professor, but your smile froze mid-air.

You were still hungover, yet your reflexes were as agile as ever.

You slammed the door shut—no, wait, that's wrong. You swore you were about to slam the door shut. You were not a pushover and didn't intend to talk to your traitor sister.

But you stood there, stiff and unable to shut the door to her face when you heard her cough.

A stupid fucking cough.

Jisoo coughed, and you felt as if you were a child again, excited to open the door and welcome your sister home with hot water mixed with honey from the comb.

***

In hindsight, you should have seen it coming. Jisoo could go a long time without contacting you, though she could never cut you off completely.

Once, she promised to stay with you forever, and until now, that promise still stands.

A promise is a promise.

Jisoo was sitting on your couch. You foolishly let her in, heart still throbbing after hearing your sister's cough. It was just a stupid cough, yet you felt your resolve crumbling.

This can't be. You couldn't possibly still have a soft spot for her.

"Ya having a sidepiece spawn?"—so you attacked her.

Jisoo visibly flinched at the roughness of your tone. You sighed a breath of relief. Her expression would help you sleep at night: Jisoo lowered her eyes, lashes trembling because of your intense look at her stomach. You longed to damage her heart until all she wished to do was run.

Jisoo called your name, choking back a sob. It was hard to say if it was because of the guilt she felt toward you or if it was because of what you called her unborn child.

Yes, Jisoo was heavily pregnant.

It was unfair. Jisoo felt the kick in her belly while you felt like your heart had been stomped.

"It's Jungkook's." There was no room for rebuttal. You said it with finality.

Jisoo didn't deny it, either.

"Of fucking course." You chuckled mercilessly. "How many rounds of 'playing around' did it take before you finally managed to get knocked up?"

"We weren't playing around." Jisoo defended. It was real. The thing they have done, it was real. "But I never dated him."

You scoffed. "But you fucked him." Your jaw slackened. Looking at your sister ignited your anger.

"Once." Jisoo was desperate.

You did not know what to feel anymore. A searing headache hit you. You barked a laugh.

"Tell me, Jisoo-unnie," you said pointedly. You might as well knife her heart. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Crashing defeat settled at the pit of Jisoo's stomach. The baby kicked her tummy aggressively like it was punishing her, too.

Jisoo called your name, trying again. "It was a one-time thing."

"A one-time thing." You repeated. It was probably said to reassure you, but it didn't. If anything, you just found a way to nitpick her excuse. "Not a one-time mistake?"

Jisoo inhaled sharply. For a moment, she looked like she wanted to cup her stomach to calm her baby, but she saw your piercing gaze there, leaving Jisoo no choice but to keep her hands on her side.

"We were both drunk. I admit, it was a moment of weakness."

Cliche. You snarled, feeling acid burn your throat. You wanted to vomit bile. "Still not calling it a mistake?"

"We both wanted it."

"Why!" Millions of questions attacked your head at once. Why did you betray me!? Why did you sleep with him, out of all people!? Was it good!? Was it worth breaking my trust? Why did you want it!?

Jisoo parted her lips, seemingly ready to answer your query, but you raised your hand to shut her up.

Jisoo obediently followed.

"Don't answer that." You felt your knees buckling. You wanted to crawl and die.

"It is—"

"Please, stop." You were certain your heart had been broken to pieces, and you thought there was no way Jisoo could shatter it more.

But now you weren’t so sure anymore.

You could only storm off to your room, slamming the door and hoping Jisoo would leave you alone.

***

Jisoo did not leave you alone. She was sheepishly sitting on the couch when you emerged from your room.

"You're still here," you observed, no snark in your voice, but exhaustion was there.

"I will be here," Jisoo responded with a small smile.

You ignored her, but she kept her promise.

She stayed the whole day in your home. The next day, she was still there.

Then the next.

And the next day.

You couldn't keep track anymore.

***

You and Jisoo were certainly not on good terms or talking terms. Fortunately, you learned to cohabitate without tearing each other apart.

Sometimes, you would buy baby clothes for Jisoo's child. You’d leave the shopping bag on the couch where your sister usually sat. However, you wouldn’t wait to see her reaction after checking the clothes.

Once, though, you accidentally saw her hugging the new clothes you had bought.

You caught Jisoo's gaze. Your sister smiled shyly at you.

Unlike before, you didn't immediately look away. In fact, you gazed at her as if asking, "It's white. A pretty neutral color. That should work, right?"

You weren't siblings without a reason. Jisoo picked up the question in your eyes.

She embraced the clothes tighter. "It's a boy. You’re going to have a nephew."

You did not react. You cast your gaze away and wordlessly left your sister alone.

But the next day, you had ten shopping bags in your hand. You left them at the usual spot.

Blue. You brought blue clothes and a bunch of toys.

You also brought pink clothes because assigning colors to gender was stupid.

But also because your nephew would surely look cute in blue, pink, and all other colors.

***

Jisoo was 32 weeks pregnant when you made up your mind to say something to her.

"That's it." You barged into the bathroom, catching your sister on the spot. She was vomiting blood.

Jisoo gave a start; her eyes were glistening with tears when she snapped her head up and met your glare. She hurriedly wiped her mouth.

"Why are you here?" Jisoo felt cornered, so she stepped back like a frightened lamb.

You smacked your lips together, finding this situation ridiculous. Jisoo had already slept with Jungkook; nothing could ever top that betrayal, so why was she acting like you would strangle her for puking blood?

"This is my apartment, in case you forgot."

"That's not what I meant." Jisoo inhaled as she struggled to swallow blood back to her stomach. "You're supposed to be at school."

"Yeah, whatever I skipped." You couldn't bear to see your trembling sister any longer. You helped her sit on the wide edge of the bathtub.

You worried about your Jisoo-unnie. She'd been retching in the bathroom almost daily. She thought she could hide it by turning the faucet on to muffle the sound, but she was wrong.

You planned to put an end to this. Your brow creased. "Enough with your bullshit. You are thirty-two weeks pregnant, and you can't possibly still be experiencing morning sickness. Even if you were, you'd be vomiting vile or that strawberry yogurt you've been eating every day. Not fucking blood."

"It's fine." Jisoo brushed it off, making a move to stand and end this conversation. You two never talked for more than one minute since she arrived, so why were you being loud now?

"You are not getting out of this conversation." You blocked her way out, glaring at her with the storm in your eyes. "I'll ask again. Why are you vomiting blood?"

The silence was deafening.

You wanted to punch the mirror. You cursed your sister; your eyes were turning bloodshot. The betrayal from before was back in full force. The fact that Jisoo wasn't telling you anything made you feel like she was hiding a nasty secret again.

You couldn't handle any more treachery. You might actually die.

"Don't lie to me again—" You cut yourself off, afraid you’d make yourself look pathetic by murmuring a soft please.

Jisoo stubbornly refused to speak. She watched as tears fell into her open palm.

She had done so well hiding this. She didn't want to tell you about her sickness, but every second that passed made Jisoo feel like the distance between you and her was stretching.

In the end, she could only concede.

"I'm dying." Shallow breath. "I've cancer."

This time, it wasn't the distance that stretched but the silence.

Jisoo dared to peek at your reaction as the silence made her uncomfortable. Only two people knew she was sick: Jungkook and now you.

Jungkook at least hugged her and wiped her hands, telling her it would be all right.

But Jungkook was Jungkook. She hadn't done anything to hurt him.

But you? She shattered and betrayed you, so she should have expected it when she heard your giddy chuckle. However, when Jisoo looked at you, no sign of happiness or sadness could be traced on your face.

It was eerily impassive.

And then she heard you say:

"Good. That's good. I hope you die."

The bathroom door slammed shut, leaving Jisoo with tears in her eyes and kicking unborn child.

****

Jisoo was 33 weeks pregnant when you gave up on radio silence. Your sister was lying on the bed she bought herself. Your apartment only had one bedroom, but Jisoo still squeezed herself in. Seeing her dozing off on the couch was a pain, so one day, you brought brochures where Jisoo could choose a bed of her liking.

Jisoo bought a single bed, putting it close to your bed. You two slept without bothering each other. Tonight, though, you couldn't take it anymore.

You lay on your side, staring directly at Jisoo. Your sister was already looking at you.

She smiled and said hi.

You didn't bother with greetings. You went straight to the point.

"What type of cancer." It was like you were reporting the weather, refusing to ask the question properly. Your monotonous voice made you appear apathetic. No one knew how heavy your heart was.

"Does it matter?" Jisoo cupped her bulging belly. Her baby seemed excited whenever he heard his aunt speaking. He was wildly kicking Jisoo's belly.

"Tsk. Just answer the damn question. Why do you have to make everything difficult?"

This was starting to get on your nerves. Even after everything that happened, you still weren’t used to Jisoo not indulging you.

"It's not difficult. It just doesn't matter. I'm dying, anyway." Just like what you wanted. But Jisoo didn't say the last part. She was not in a position to hold grudges against you.

You hugged your pillow to your chest like you wanted to shield your heart that was about to jump out of your body.

"Just answer."

It was getting harder for you to breathe. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead; you couldn't seem to get the image of Jisoo coughing in your head.

Please don't let it be lung cancer. Please don't let it be lung cancer. Please don't let it be lung cancer. Please don't let it be lung cancer. Please don't let it be lung cancer—

"It's lung cancer."

Your heart missed a beat.

"How much time do you have left?" You dug your nails into the pillow while Jisoo sighed. She was sure you couldn't wait for her to die.

"Not too long. Maybe I'll pass soon after I have my baby."

"But why." Jisoo wasn't sure if she was imagining things, but she thought she heard you whine. "Don't you have a treatment plan? Fucking chemotherapy and stuff?"

"Chemotherapy is harmful for the baby." Jisoo's tone was soft.

"Fuck the baby!"

Even you were surprised by how resentful you were. But it was true, wasn't it? Her baby was the devil's spawn. It was the fruit of betrayal, so why was Jisoo choosing it over herself?

"Why didn't you abort it?" You abruptly sat on the bed, shooting daggers at Jisoo. A whirlpool of abuse danced at the tip of your tongue. You didn't voice it out because Jisoo looked sad.

"Don't be like that to Soobin."

"Who the fuck is Soobin? Why should I care!?"

"It's your nephew's name," Jisoo explained patiently as she caressed her stomach. Soobin had stopped kicking, probably scared of his aunt.

"That's such a basic name. It's so ugly. I hate it. I hate him."

You didn't give your sister a chance to speak. "Forget it." You turned off the lampshade. "I don't want to talk to you anymore. I'm going to sleep."

You laid back down. Darkness enveloped the room. This was better. This way, you couldn't see the sadness in Jisoo’s face.

But you couldn't sleep. You tossed and turned all night, but nothing worked.

It's my fault. You wanted to say. Jisoo got cancer because of you. That club was a rotten place. You should've stopped her from working there.

Lung cancer. What a bullshit thing to have.

"Don't die." A week ago, you were saying the complete opposite. "If you die, I'll chase you to hell. You can't die, Jisoo."

You still have debts to pay. I have not forgiven you yet. You have to suffer my eternal wrath, so do not die before me.

*** In Jisoo's 34th week of pregnancy, you had asked her another question.

"Why did you do it?"

Jisoo didn't need context. She knew exactly what you were talking about, but like before, you cut her off before she could explain.

"Never mind." You covered your face with a blanket and slept.

***

In Jisoo's 35th week of pregnancy, you pestered her again about chemotherapy.

"I told you already. It's harmful for Soobin."

"And I told you already, I don't care about Soobin." You rebutted.

This bedtime routine was tiring Jisoo. She felt like she was arguing with a wall.

"Good night," so she just turned off the lampshade and went to bed.

*** You asked about the betrayal again in Jisoo's 36th week of pregnancy.

"Are you sure you want to know now?" Jisoo's carefulness shot your heart.

You shook your head, your chest heaving.

"No," you admitted. "Never mind it."

***

Jisoo's 37th weeks pregnant when you panicked upon seeing her looking like she was in a lot of pain.

"What's the matter?" Your heart leaped to your throat. You were beside Jisoo at once.

Jisoo bit her lip and wiped the sweat on her forehead. "It's nothing. Your nephew's just being naughty. He keeps kicking my tummy."

Oh.

Your heartbeat returned to normal. And then you snorted and folded your arms across your chest. "Tell that scrub to shut his trap and quit being annoying."

You were about to return to your bed when Jisoo seized your wrist.

You flinched, but you didn't push her away.

It gave Jisoo the courage to push through her suggestion. She cleared her throat, "Why don't you pacify him yourself? He's quite obedient. Here, I'll guide you."

Jisoo slowly led your hand to her tummy. Your hand was stiff at first, almost resisting when you had contact with the skin of Jisoo's belly.

"Sshh, it's okay, dear." Jisoo's voice was like a lullaby. You relaxed at once.

It took you a while before you finally started caressing your sister's stomach without wanting to die.

And then you felt it.

"Oh!" Your eyes grew big. "He kicked me! Your kid kicked me!"

An involuntary chuckle came out of Jisoo. "Yes, he likes his aunt a lot."

"Hmp." You withdrew your hands. "Too bad I don't care about him."

Jisoo didn't react because, deep down, you were fooling no one.

***

You asked about the betrayal again in Jisoo's 38th week of pregnancy. Jisoo had learned her lesson, so she did not speak and pretended to be asleep.

***

You found the courage to be honest in Jisoo's 39th week of pregnancy.

"I take it back." You gripped your blanket. "Soobin isn't so bad. I think his name is cute."

Jisoo gasped, which had you worrying. You thought your sister was in pain again. These days, all she did was vomit blood.

However, Jisoo's gasp was because of plain surprise. She beamed at you, "Soobin just kicked me three times. He means to say he loves you."

"You're an idiot, and you know it." You clicked your tongue in disgust, "Tell your devil spawn I hate him."

Your words were harsh, but Jisoo knew your heart was melting.

Just a few more. Jisoo mused, mentally patting her baby's head. Your aunt’s gonna warm up to you soon, Bin-bin.

***

Jisoo was in her 40th week of pregnancy when she gave birth to a healthy baby boy.

It took a while before you got out of the hospital because of Jisoo's worsening condition. Thankfully, you were there to look after Soobin.

"Welcome home, mon bébé," you secretly whispered when you finally got home.

Soobin cooed at you, and you wanted to cry.

You stopped calling Soobin the devil's spawn.

***

Jisoo's 3 weeks postpartum, and she was delirious.

"Jisoo-unnie, it's time for your medicine." You were sitting in your sister's bed with a glass of water in your hand.

"Honey water again...?" She blinked, eyes unfocused. She was hot to touch. "I don't want honey water. You make them too sweet."

"This is not honey water." You tried to make her drink, but Jisoo was stubborn.

She called your name. “My dear, please. You have to listen to me, alright? Hide in the closet. Don't answer even when mom calls for you. I will..." She cupped your cheek. "I will be back for you, okay?"

Postpartum was foreign to you, but you figured your sister was struggling.

"There's no need to hide. I'm not a five-year-old anymore, Jisoo-unnie."

It was the wrong thing to say because Jisoo scowled. She was unhappy, though she kept caressing your face.

"What are you saying? You'll always be my little girl."

***

Jisoo's 9 weeks postpartum when her mind cleared up. Regrettably, her body became weaker.

"You can't even carry your own baby," you taunted, peering down at your bedridden sister as you gently rocked Soobin in your arms.

Your nephew was so well-behaved.

"It's okay." Jisoo coughed. "Soobin has you."

"I'm not a babysitter." You jutted your chin, annoyed. "Hurry up and get better. I'm getting tired of—oh."

You weren't able to finish whatever you were saying. You couldn't even remember what you were trying to prove. All your thoughts vanished when Soobin wrapped his tiny hand around your pinky.

"Jisoo-unnie! Look! Look! He's holding me!" You stepped closer to Jisoo's bed, crouching down so your sister could see.

Jisoo forced out a smile. But that small action was taxing to her body. She coughed up blood again. She wiped it before you could see it.

"That's good. That's really, really good...."

***

Jisoo was 10 weeks postpartum, and she was still rotting in bed.

"You have to force yourself to get better," you demanded, a deep scowl on your lips. "Just look at your son. He clings to me a lot. Do you want him to recognize me as his mom?"

Your statement was meant to be threatening, but it made Jisoo happier.

"He is yours, dear." Her voice was barely above a whisper. She didn't have the energy to speak louder, but she could still smile. "He is meant to stay by your side."

"Shut up." You rolled your eyes. "I'm not cut out to be a parent. This is your mess. I was not there when you made him." I was against you making him. You hurt me.

Jisoo's forehead creased, though. She didn't agree with you. "But I made him for you."

What?

You couldn't believe your ears. If postpartum was this kind of bitch, then you were willing to fight it. It was making your Jisoo-unnie act crazy. She was full of shit.

"Soobin...stay...you..." And she was blabbering random words.

You touched her forehead. She was burning. Her fever was probably making her crazy.

"Next time, I'm bringing you to an asylum." Soobin slept soundly in his crib, so you had time to care for your sister. You put a wet towel on her forehead. "You're crazy, did you know that? Who would have thought a cute baby like Soobin came from a nasty girl like you?"

Jisoo's scowl deepened. She struggled and weakly caught your wrist. "No. Soobin looks like...me."

You glanced at Soobin's sleeping form. Yeah, right.

"Keep dreaming. It's free."

"No." Jisoo cried. It looked like she took your statement to heart. "He looks like me...he should look like me..."

Suddenly, Jisoo was crying. You were stunned. What was this drama queen crying for!?

"He looks like me. Please. He should remind me of you. I'm dying, I'm dying. I'm dying--!!"

Your eyes widened. Jisoo was out of control. She was sobbing and kicking her feet, albeit weakly.

"Jisoo-unnie, calm down." You held her hands, giving up. "I believe you, okay? Soobin looks like you."

She was easy to pacify. She stopped crying at once, and then she cupped your cheeks.

"My dear, my little one...I'm sorry, your Jisoo-unnie can't keep her promise to you. I'm going soon. Stay...stay with Soobin, alright?"

Jisoo slowly trailed off. The terrible realization slapped you in the face.

You were shaking, bile crawling to your throat when you connected the dots:

There was a high possibility that Jisoo, your sister, planned on sleeping with Jungkook so she could get pregnant. She wished to get pregnant because, after all this time, she still saw you as a little girl who needed someone by her side.

And since she was dying, she needed someone to...

You stopped thinking. You looked at Soobin's sleeping form and sobbed; your sister's words echoed in your mind:

Stay with Soobin. I made him for you.

Fuck.

***

In Jisoo's twisted way, what she did was for your sake. Unfortunately, you did not ask any of this.

Jisoo was 15 weeks postpartum. She was like a withered flower. No color was left on her face. Death was around the corner.

"Are you there, my dear?"

You did not answer. The question you didn't have an answer to entered your mind. You hadn't asked in a long time. Should you?

"Why did you betray me?" You asked it aloud before you could think properly. You thought Jisoo's too weak to answer, but she forced herself to speak.

"I was lonely. We were both lonely."

In the grand scheme of things, that explanation should have made sense. Lonely people sought comfort. You should be the first to understand that. But you didn't. It only brought you pain.

"I can't make you happy?" But you were her sister and Jungkook...Jungkook was your best friend. How could you not know that the people you loved were suffering? That they were lonely? Were you that...insensitive?

"It's not about you." Jisoo groaned. She was in a lot of pain. "You will never understand our grief. Your life is...a bliss."

The pain was unbearable. You wanted to cover your ears. You regretted asking that question, but you just couldn't stop.

"So you don't trust me? You don't think I'd understand you?" Did Jungkook think so too?

Jisoo didn't give a clear answer. She couldn't breathe. Her chest was stuffy.

Silence prevailed.

You stared blankly at Jisoo.

Jisoo struggled to maintain her breathing. She called your name.

"Have you forgiven me?"

It took you an eternity to respond, but your tone was biting when you did.

"You and Jungkook bonded over something you thought I was too immature to understand, so tell me, Jisoo-unnie, how can I forgive you?"

It meant to hurt. But Jisoo smiled through the pain.

She seemed...happy.

"Good…Good. Don't forgive me. I don't deserve it."

Blood. There was blood everywhere. Jisoo was barely awake.

"But leave Soobin...out of your...anger. That kid will love you. I swear, he will love you."

You had no plans to give Soobin away.

"I know...I am in no position to ask you anything, but...Jungkook...he must know about his son. He deserves that much, no--" She seemed to shake her head. "Soobin deserves that much....Promise me, in three..."

She paused. She was thinking....calculating...

"No four...four years...three years..." It was getting confusing. "Return him home in three years. Ugh."

Jisoo couldn't hold on.

She called your name. “ You and Soobin...you two are my life...I love you...I'll see..." you.

Jisoo didn't get to finish her last statement. She died, eyes clamped shut and blood splattering everywhere.

She died while her son slept, and you wept.

**** A/N: I wrote this for so many hours...this is not edited, I feel like I'm going to vomit if I read this chapter one more time. Imdeadtired.exe.

We will be back in the present in the next chapter.

← Previous Chapter (06) | Next Chapter (08) →

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #ficswithluv #jungkook x oc #bts fic #jungkook x y/n #pseudo cheating

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kiiwiigii · 1 year ago

Text

New Life

Demetri x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were new to this life. A life sustained on blood. There were only two rules you had been taught: 1. Don't expose your kind. 2. Never attract the attention of the Volturi.

Warnings:

Kinda-sorta-fluff?

Angsty-ish

Word Count: 1400+

Requested?:Yes! @pooka167 I hope you like it!

Heya, thanks for adding me to your taglist! Could I please request a demetri fic (he currently has a chokehold on me, and I blame my adhd brain for picking the most random things to fixate on🤣) where he meets them by chance while on his way back from a mission for the volturi and the reader is a newborn vampire who's very confused about being a vampire but also a little nervous as the person who turned them had explained the volturi and stuff and they freak out thinking they broke a rule without realising it and Demetri reassures them and takes them back to volterra with him to be a part of the volturi? Thank you 💖💖

A/N: This was fun to write.

I was a mistake, he told me. He thought I was gifted. He thought I would make an excellent addition to his coven. The only thing, he said to me, was that at least I was pretty. And even then I was rather mediocre-looking by vampire standards.

I had wanted to cry then. But vampires can't cry of course. This- this man, had cursed me with an immortal life, only sustained by drinking the blood of others. I couldn't even kill myself if I wanted to. So now I was stuck. Forever nineteen and cursed with a burning in my throat that would never subside.

All because he thought I had been gifted.

Instead, I was about as ordinary as one could be. He had wasted his time seducing me. But I suppose time wasn't really relevant for someone who lived for eternity. And for someone who never slept.

That's what I missed the most from my old life. Sleep. I missed being able to turn off my brain. To dream. That and food. Sadly the smell of human food made me gag now. But the thought of taking a human life also made me queasy.

I had a rather substantial amount of control as a newborn. At least that's what I had been told. But in the 5 months I had been a vampire, I'd had my fair share of slip-ups.

Three weeks ago, Nathan finally decided I was useless and left me with one warning. Don't expose yourself or attract the attention of the Volturi.

He had made the consequences very clear if I were to do either.

Since then it had been a struggle. Finding a place to hide and keeping myself in check. I had a hard time taking the lives of innocents, so instead I turned to looking for criminals, which is easier than anyone would think.

But I had lost control twice. I squeezed my eyes shut at the thought. A had wiped out a whole family the second time. I wanted to gag as venom filled my mouth at the thought. I'd had a sense of mind to make it look like a house fire in the end and then fled the area.

I was in a new town now and had holed up in a warehouse for the night, the sounds of the water of the empty harbor lulled me into a sense of peace.

Until I heard footsteps.

My eyes popped open and my nose flared in alarm. If they were a human they would be dead. The burning in my throat was too much. My control was this close to snapping. I was suddenly on my haunches, hissing softly.

But... it wasn't a human, although whatever it was... smelled absolutely divine. I couldn't put my finger on the exact smell. Only that I really liked it. Pine mixed with... amber, maybe?

It had to be another vampire.

And it was.

"Well, what do we have here?"

My eyes widened at the sight of him. Outside of Nathan, I had never met another vampire. This man was beautiful, with dirty blonde hair, thin lips, and rather angular face. And his eyes were a stunning red.

And his voice...

I met his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through me. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt warmth.

I stood slowly, watching as he gazed at me, mouth slightly agape.

"I have waited centuries for you." He whispered, stunned.

My eyes widened in surprise, and I felt both flustered and confused. Then I caught sight of the necklace around his neck. An intricate 'V' crest.

If I had a beating heart I'm sure it would have slammed out of my chest. I flew backward into the wall, creating a human-shaped imprint before causing it to crumble around me.

The man looked shocked, holding his hands up in surrender.

"I- I promise I haven't done anything. I haven't exposed our kind- I burned- I made it look like a house fire. I promise there was nothing left."

He just gave me a confused look, approaching me cautiously, his hands still out until he was right before me. He squatted down next to me and I cringed away.

"You're not in trouble, love." His voice drifted over me soothingly.

I stared at him warily, despite my body's protests to relax.

"I'm not here to hurt you."

"But- but." My eyes glanced back down to the crest around his neck and he took notice. "Aren't you a part of the Volturi? Aren't you here about the family I killed last week? I'm so sorry-"

"Please relax. I'm not here to punish you for anything. I don't even know what you're talking about, love."

When I still wouldn't relax he held his hand out to me.

"I am Demetri. It is lovely to meet you...?"

I reluctantly took his hand, and if I had still been human I would have blushed violently when he kissed my hand.

"Y- Y/N." I stuttered.

"Y/N."

I really liked the way he said my name.

"Demetri?" A new, deeper voice sounded from behind this… Demetri.

I jumped and cursed myself for not being more aware.

"Just a moment, Felix. I have found something- someone extraordinary."

"Oh?"

Felix came into sight and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. He was huge. Easily the biggest man I had ever seen. And my eyes didn't miss the golden crest hanging from his neck.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he scanned me. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"I mean in vampiric years. When were you changed?"

I paused, still eyeing him warily. Demetri gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

"Five months. I was changed five months ago,"

"Five months??" Demetri's mouth dropped open in surprise before snapping shut angrily.

I flinched backwards, taking my hand back. He caught himself and relaxed.

"I'm sorry, love. You have done nothing wrong. But why are you on your own? Where is your sire?"

"He left me."

"Left you?" Felix asked.

"Yes. Three weeks ago."

Demetri looked absolutely livid.

"He left you, a newborn, on their own?"

I chewed my lip and his eyes zeroed in on them, his beautiful red eyes darkening a little.

"Who is your sire? Why did he leave?" Felix murmured.

I looked down at my knees guiltily, picking at my worn jeans. Suddenly I was very aware of how disgusting I must appear to them. To Demetri. I shook my head, warmth filling me again at just the thought of him.

"Y/N?"

Demetri's hand appeared over my own, stopping my fidgeting.

"His name is Nathan. I'm not sure where he is now. He- he changed me because he thought I had a gift, but when- when it turned out I didn't…" I blinked harshly at the venom pooling in my eyes. "He left me. He only allows those that are gifted in his coven."

Demetri hissed angrily before taking a deep breath to calm himself. He clasped my hand and lifted it to his lips again. I sucked in a surprised breath myself.

"Why don't you come with Felix and me back to Volterra? We will welcome you with open arms, gift or not."

I looked at Demetri, his pleading eyes staring into my own. I had been warned about the Volturi, but here were two members of the coven who had shown me the most kindness since I had awoken into this new life.

"And it would mean the world to me. To have you there with me."

"You- you said that you had been waiting centuries for me." My voice was barely a whisper. "What does- what does that mean? What did you mean?"

Demetri and Felix shared a look before the latter began to walk away, perhaps to give us a semblance of privacy.

"What did your sire tell you about vampires? About our world?"

His thumb rubbed circles into my now open palm, a gentle caress that helped me finally relax.

"He explained the basics, like feeding and staying inconspicuous. He mentioned that some vampires have gifts… and about the Volturi." I met his eyes then.

"Nothing else?"

I shook my head and in a surprise move, he leaned forward and kissed me gently on the forehead. I felt my body begin to heat up a little.

"Then I have much to teach you, if you'll come back with me that is."

He was pleading. How could I say no? I thought of them leaving me here- of him leaving me and I couldn't stand the thought of it.

"Okay. I think I would like that."

Demetri grinned, and it was like my whole world was shining.

{Masterlist} // {Request Guidelines}

Taglist: @alecvolturi @belladonna-xox @birdiebeesblog @lack-lust-3r @pawspurpaw @pooka167 @rosedpetal @twilightlover2007

Wanna be notified when I post a new fic? Ask to join my taglist!

#demetri volturi x reader #demetri x reader #volturi #reader insert #fanfic #twilight

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gabessquishytum · 1 year ago

Note

Human au/Immortal throuple idea!

Hob and Dream are best friends but Hob has a secret. He has been in love with Dream his whole life. But as far as he knows, Dream is only interested in women.

In fact, when Hob meets Calliope in a college course, develops a crush and invites her out for drinks, he sees the exact moment Dream falls in love with her. He watches it happen and feels his heart break again. Because Calliope is amazing. hob already knows it. But what can he offer either of them?

So Hob encourages Dream and Calliope to date, and pretends it’s fine. Dream has had flings before but this time, Hob knows it is serious. Still he hangs out with them all the time. More than he should, but Hob can’t ever turn them down when they invite him out. Their other friends joke about Hob being their constant third wheel.

After a year, Dream proposes and Hob helps throw them an engagement party. And Dream and Calliope both jokingly fight over who gets Hob as their best man. They share.

But Hob is at his limit. He had tried to quiet his heart but it’s just too painful to be so in love. And as long as he is in their lives, he knows he will never get over them. So quietly, Hob puts in an application for a grad program in the states, as far away as he can get. He doesn’t have the heart to tell them, not when they’re so excited for their future. He doesn’t want to ruin their happiness.

The day of the wedding, hob is heartbroken but so happy to see them happy. He means every word of his speech, where he tells the crowd how well matched they are, and how they are his best friends. He hugs them goodbye. Even if they don’t know it’s goodbye forever, he tries to memorize those last moments. And then as Dream and Calliope depart for their honeymoon in Greece, Hob shuts the door in his packed up apartment and hops on a plane.

Dream and Calliope don’t hear from Hob on their trip—but they assume he wants to give him space. But when they get back, they find a letter from Hob waiting. Hob tells them he has loved Dream for years but he knows his feelings aren’t returned. He tells them that he is not angry and that he knows Calliope will make Dream so happy. He admits that he loves Calliope too. He tells them to take care of each other but that he needs to move on and he is sorry but this is the only way he could think to do it. If he saw them he knows they would have been able to talk him out of it.

Dream falls to pieces. He calls Hob over and over but Hob has changed his number. He has deleted his social media. Hob doesn’t want to be found. Calliope is stunned by her own heartbreak. And she’s never seen Dream like this.

Their first year of marriage is rocky. Without Hob’s joyfulness Dream drags Calliope into depressive spirals. Without his gentleness, they grate on each other’s nerves. They realize how much Hob had been the glue that helped them work. Their sex feels more like fighting for dominance than making love. Calliope is sure Dream resents her for Hob’s leaving. And sometimes he spits at her that she is right, he does. It’s clear something is missing. Now they realize not only have they lost Hob, they’re on the verge of losing each other.

Calliope, because she is a queen, finally sits Dream down to talk about Hob. He tends to fly into a rage or collapse into sadness at the mention of Hob’s name these days. But she makes him talk to her about him. About their friendship. And slowly they realize that not only did they depend on Hob, but they might have been in love with him too.

So there is only one thing to do. They have to track Hob down and convince him to give them a chance. But how will they find him when he is determined not to be found? And if they find him, what if he has already moved on?

Oh I love it!!! 3 dumbasses is the only thing better than 2 dumbasses.

I'm imagining that they rally all their friends and family to try and track Hob down. Calliope's sisters put out feelers around Europe, Death contacts all of her colleagues in the medical field, and Delirium has the amazing idea to get in touch with their brother Destruction (now know as Ollie) who also disappeared at one point and knows the best places to go to track Hob down. With a plan of action and hope in their hearts, Dream and Calliope's relationship actually settles into something more like it used to be. They feel united and they finally start to comfort each other instead of fighting.

Ollie's work pays off and he tracks Hob down studying for his PhD and living in the middle of bumfuck, nowhere. He's changed his name and even altered his appearance slightly - long hair tied back in a ponytail, beard sleek and neat around his jaw. Ollie sends the information to Dream and he and Calliope are on the first flight out to the nearest airport.

Hob is... not mad that they tracked him down. He's fucking lonely and he misses his two best friends, and he's not sure if he made the right decision. Never getting to see them hurts even more than seeing them in love. When they show up on the doorstep on his trailer he's so relieved he could cry.

Calliope smacks him on the chest, hard enough to make him stumble, and she says a lot of thing that mainly boil down to "I'm so mad that you didn't even give us a CHANCE to love you." And Dream is all teary eyes and trembling lips, holding onto Hob’s sleeve like he's going to just disappear into thin air. Eventually they all go inside, and Hob makes tea. Just like he always used to.

Dream and Calliope get on either side of Hob and twine themselves around him like vines on a trellis. They need his support and strength to allow them to grow. And they feel awful that they never even realised just how important he was. He should have been an equal partner in their relationship from the very beginning. And now they have him back, they're both practically trembling with want. They need to show him that they want him to come back and be with them always!

Meanwhile Hob is just trying to work out if this is just a wonderful dream come true... or if his two loves are really crowding him up against the wall and kissing every inch of him they can reach?!

#the sandman #immortal throuple #dream x hob x calliope

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reminiscingtonight · 2 years ago

Text

Closure

Leah Williamson x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Something soft I wrote last night. Posting early because we gotta celebrate that Arsenal win somehow, right?

[WOSO Masterlist]

She looks beautiful. Despite everything that’s happened, she still looks beautiful.

You’re sitting at the same table, no doubt because Keira wants her two best friends by her side on such a special day, but still, you can’t help but wish she sat you anywhere else but here. All night Leah’s been looking your way, not hiding the sadness and longing whenever your eyes meet. You try to distract yourself with Georgia’s random musings, but even she can’t compete with the magnetic call of Leah’s gaze.

“You should talk to her.”

You’re quick to shake your head. You took it as a win that the blonde hadn’t followed the two of you to the open bar. “She doesn’t want to talk to me, trust me.”

Georgia sighs, picking at the napkin in front of her. “The two of you are obviously still torn up about the whole break up. Just go talk to each other and make up.”

“I’m pretty sure Kei and Luce would rather we not. They don’t need us causing a scene on their special day.”

It was a long time coming, Keira and Lucy’s wedding. You had months to prepare yourself for the inevitable run in you were going to have with Leah, but it still didn’t help when you finally laid eyes upon the blonde.

The two of you had been together for what seemed like forever. You met for the first time during a youth camp eons ago, relationship building as the years passed by. By the time you signed your first senior contract with Arsenal, Leah had already asked and taken you out on a couple dates.

Leah bled red and white, a gooner through and through, it was almost fitting that you were the exact same. The two of you stayed together through all the ups and downs of both your club and national careers. When you won the Euros, you were sure nothing could beat that feeling.

And then Barcelona reached out.

You were elated. Leah… not so much.

Looking back at it now, the month between winning the Euros and the start of the new season was marred with countless arguments and fights.

Leah didn’t want you to leave. “We have a life here together. You can’t just throw it away.”

“I’m not throwing anything away, Leah. It’s Barcelona. It’s… it’s a dream. One that I want to take with you by my side.”

Breaking up was the last thing you wanted.

Somewhere it gets lost in translation.

“If you go, that’s it.” The words are spoken in the quiet of your bedroom, Leah staring at the ceiling, biting back her tears.

You have to fight the urge to hold her. To tell her what you know she wants to hear. “I love you. I will always love you. Please don’t make me choose between my career and you.”

In the end she makes the decision for you.

The night you fly out, you press a shaky kiss against the side of her head. “I love you. I’ll call you when I land.”

Leah doesn’t pick up.

A day later she deletes all traces of you from her social media accounts.

The box full of your things arrives midway through the next week.

It’s an abrupt end to a story you never thought you’d have to close.

You try calling the first couple weeks. Each time your calls go straight to voicemail, but you tell her about your time in the city, the girls you play with, how much you miss her.

The one time your call goes through, Leah interrupts you before you have a chance to say anything. “I wish you never loved me. And that I never loved you.”

She hangs up before you can answer.

It feels like a dagger to the heart when you catch a story of Leah at a party, wrapped around another woman. Tabloids run wild the next couple days, pictures of Leah locking lips with the mysterious girl splashed all throughout the internet.

Injuries prevent you from attending the next couple of camps. The only time you end up putting on the England jersey is the one time Leah’s out with one of her own.

It almost seems as if karma’s mocking you for leaving your home for the unknown.

It’s Georgia’s soft nudge that has you breaking out of your thoughts. You realize with a start that Leah’s making her way towards the two of you.

“Hi.” She sounds breathless. A little nervous. Your heart still flutters at the sound of her voice.

“I’m just gonna…” Georgia makes a jerking motion with her hand, quickly departing before you can stop her.

You’re left staring after your friend, silently cursing her out in your head.

Neither of you say anything as Leah gingerly takes a seat next to you. You can feel her staring at the side of your head, but you keep your eyes down, focused on the drink in your hand.

“I think it’s stupid, but I can’t stop thinking that it should be us out there right now.”

All at once your muscles feel stiff. There’s unshed tears pricking your eyes, because truth is, you can’t help but think the same.

The two of you had been together for close to a decade. Your friends always joked that the two of you would be the first to get married, but you and Leah were happy where you were, still feeling a bit too young to tie the knot. The two of you had talked about it, agreeing to wait until later, until you had a firmer grip on life, on your football careers.

But here you are now, a little past your mid-twenties, alone, wishing more than anything you could go back to those early days. Those days when you still had Leah and could call her yours.

You chance a look up, but Leah’s looking off into the distance, staring wistfully at Keira and Lucy who are in the middle of their first dance.

“Our best friends are getting married, and I should be happy for them, but all I can think about is how that should’ve been us. That should’ve been us standing up there, saying our vows. That should’ve been us slipping on those rings, following through on forever.”

When she finally looks back at you, you can see the watery sheen in her eyes.

“Leah,” you whisper, hand darting forward to wipe at a tear before it can make its way down her cheek. Leah all but leans into your hand, eyes slipping closed at the familiar feeling.

“Do you regret this? Us?”

It breaks your heart a bit to hear the vulnerability in her voice. Leah’s quiet, expression a bit pained, as if you hold all the power in fixing or shattering her heart.

Your hand slips from her cheek, and Leah’s face turns panicked for a moment. At least until it drops to her collar. You avoid her eyes as you fix up the crookedness of her jacket.

“I’ve done a lot of things that I regret. But loving you,” you pause, finally lifting your eyes to meet Leah’s. “Loving you is something I’ll never regret doing.”

And it’s the truth. All the fights, all the arguments, you’ll never regret a single moment you’ve ever had with her. Because through all the bad, you still had the good. You still had the memories of Leah chasing you around the house, tackling you onto the bed with a giggle. You still had the memories of Leah cuddled up next to you, pointing out all the trashy things about the rom-com you’re watching, though she stays because she knows they’re your favorite type of film. You still had the memories of nervously padding up and down the halls, of Leah screaming and jumping into your arms when the two of you get your first senior call ups, when Leah gets asked to be captain, when the two of you make the Euros roster.

You have the firsts and lasts, though you didn’t know the lasts would be the lasts when they happened, but every moment you’ve had with Leah is special in their own ways. You would never regret a single moment of calling her yours.

“I hear Barcelona’s nice this time of year.”

The question is there. Silent and hidden, but there.

You nod, not able to stop the soft smile on your face. Leah’s looking a little bashful right now, hand brushing against yours, not quite daring to hold them quite yet.

When you walk back to your table, a new drink in tow, you do so with your arms brushing each other’s, pinkies gently hooked in the space between. Nothing can be fixed with just a couple words, but for the first time since you left home, your heart feels full, knowing that there’s still a chance. The book hasn’t fully closed yet, and you’d do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #engwnt x reader #engwnt imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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maxverstappensflatbrim · 9 months ago

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Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [46]

chapter forty-six, act six: be my mistake

masterlist

December 25th 2017

It takes Tommie forty minutes to stop staring at the front door as if he’s going to walk right back through. When she finally does leave the hallway her gaze settles onto the wrapped gift still untouched.

She’s sitting criss crossed under her green Christmas tree with Button on one side and Allen the other.

The wrapping paper has little dinosaurs wearing cowboy hats, which upon further inspection she realises have been drawn on by hand. She tears it open, then folds it neatly and places it to her side. Her eyes tear up, her thumb traces the leather.

It’s her book.

Her lyric book she thought lost forever sits right there in her hands with a blue post it note on top.

‘ Don’t worry, I didn’t punch him, Ross did (again).’

She giggles to herself as she takes the post it note and slots it inside to a page in the middle of the book, the one with the first ever draft of her poem ‘show me yours’.

Beneath the old brown leather book is a very similar one. The exact same book instead this one is a dark green colour.

She flicks open the first page and finds a note has been drawn on the inside cover.

‘The day that I met you I started dreaming. Now I write them down if I remember in the morning

-Yours, Matty’

A few pages have been written on, he writes on one side of a double page then leaves the other blank so she can fill in her own thoughts or change what he has written.

They’re songs. Songs he had written in rehab. About her. For her. She’s not sure yet.

Her eyes scan the pages as she flicks through them all, taking note of the titles scribbled in red ink.

Inside your mind Love it if we made it Be my mistake Sincerity is scary If it’s not with you Mine In love Sometimes About you Playing on my mind

She reads them all. Over and over and over. She only adds to one of the songs he’s written.

She finds inspiration, she writes. She writes a lot, poetry which turn into songs and songs which become poetry. She finds herself finishing songs from her old book that she’d begun writing years ago. Love songs she’d tried to write about Caleb seem to fall together with a new inspiration in mind.

Matty.

Even in the breakup songs she finds ways to reference him in some way.

She can’t help it. There’s a piece of Matty in everything she does. Not just in her writing, she finds herself gravitating towards clothes of hers that he’d once touched. Like her old The Stone Roses shirt he wore once, or the flannel shirt he’d always ‘borrow’ when he came into her room. She buys his favourite brand of tea bags and stocks the fridge with his favourite pop. She listens to his favourite artist and hums a few tones lower to match his usual pitch. She reads books he had recommended and watches True Romance over and over because she can still picture his happy grin as he mimed the words along to the cinema scene. She finds herself stroking the freckle on her collarbone he once kissed. Touching the part of her hairline he would rest his lips against when he held her close. She finds herself thinking of him. Consumed by him. It’s Matty. It’s always been Matty.

She doesn’t stop writing. The words seem to flow out of her unlike anything she’s ever experienced before. Her hand cramps and even then she continues on with ink stained finger tips delicately turning white pages.

She shifts the book from her knee to the coffee table and as she does something falls out from the back of it. Shuffling awkwardly across the floor and raising the heads of the two dogs who watch her, she reaches for the small photograph.

A smile stretches her lips. It’s of the band a few weeks after she first met them. She was young at the time, thirteen maybe if she remembers correctly. Matty is standing directly behind her with his hand on her shoulder and his chin on her head. She’s smiling so big. She misses it. She misses the band. She misses her boys. She misses her Matty.

July 30th 2007

“You’ll be fine.’

Her cousin's words do little to help sooth her nerves as she clutches his hand. “They’re my best mates,” He continues on as he holds the door open for her, “They’ll love you as much as I do.”

“I’m not sure, Ads.”

“It’ll be fine.”

He promises as he opens the door. Three sets of eyes are on her when she enters and she pauses at the doorway.

It’s the tallest one with a buzzcut that comes to her first with a smile. “Caroline?”

“Tommie.” She says quickly.

“I’m Ross.” He tells her, then with a hand on her back he guides her further into the room to sit on the small two seater they have.

Before he can settle beside her the space is taken by the long haired guy, he throws an arm over her shoulder and places the other in front of her for her to shake. “I’m Matty. Hann tells us you can play guitar, wanna be in the band?”

Ross shakes his head and pushes Matty away from her by his forehead, “She’s like ten leave her alone.”

“I’m not… ten.” She says quietly.

Matty shrugs, ignoring her quiet comment, “Well, let her decide, Ross.” He turns back to her then, brown eyes looking right through her, “Would you?”

She shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“Leave her alone.”

The third guy who she hasn’t learnt the name of yet drags him to stand and pushes him away, Ross takes Matty’s spot while the guy in the beanie offers a shy smile. “I’m George.”

She nods back to him and lets her eyes go back to Matty who’s rocking back and forth on his feet, “I’ve always said having a girl in the band will do us better.”

“Better how?”

He sighs dramatically and Adam shoots a sharp look to George, “Really? You want him to give his whole speech again?”

George shrugs innocently as Matty clears his throat, “First of all, a girl can hit different notes than me, having one to harmonise-”

“Matty.” Ross interrupts, “The girl’s just got here. Let’s leave her alone, eh?”

He rolls his eyes then turns them back to Tommie, “Favourite song?”

She looks back to Adam, already hating her cousin for forcing her to meet his friends, “I don’t know, um.” She looks around at the walls of the little pool house they’re hidden away in. There’s posters and instruments all lying around, the floor is covered in wires and through a barely covered glass window she can see the pool. “I like that one of the new Arctic Monkey album.”

“Which one?”

“Brianstorm.”

He nods in thought, “Alright. Sit back, relax and enjoy, Thomas. We’re gonna blow you away.”

He ushers the guys up and Ross leans towards her, “This is him trying to convince you. Don’t give in, he’s pushy but he’ll give up eventually.”

Looking back, Tommie’s glad he didn’t give up.

She clutches the photo to her chest and leans back against her settee with a sob of solitude.

With tears in her eyes she crawls across the floor to her sofa and grips her phone. With shaky hands she lifts it to her ear as the phone starts ringing.

“Hello?”

“Can you come over? Please. I just-” She niffles and rubs the back of her wrist against her nose, “I really need you right now.”

taglist

@thereisaplaceintheheart, @indierockgirrl, @sofaritsalrightt, @julezs-bl0g, @eaglestar31, @sophinthealpss, @noacfemcel, @if-my-heart-bleeds, @befrwime, @fallingforel, @sexorchocolateorpillowsorclouds, @3terna15unshin3, @1975sophie1975, @thesocraticjunkiewannabe, @littlesoldierelleora, @procrastinatinglikeapro, @beatr2x, @byyourside28, @plantinghobbies, @sinarainbows

-let me know if you want to be added :)

#show me yours matty healy #matty healy x oc #matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #the 1975 x oc

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mqverick · 11 months ago

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Walking On Air || chapter 9

Take me to bed or lose me forever, was what Carole said to Goose every time they were together, having fun. Maverick never really understood what she meant by it until he started having feelings for you. It was exactly how he felt about you; he needed to just fuck everything and everyone, every obstacle in the way, and take you with him before he could lose you to someone else — which ironically enough, had already happened.

Or so he thought, until the other night.

He had been so fixated on the fact that you were taken so deeply inside of him, that he believed he could never fully have you, that part of your mind would always stay true to Iceman, even if the miracle happened and you broke up with him.

Hearing the drunken words come out of your mouth, so rushed and so painfully angsty, got him hoping you might be getting lost in the same path he’d been since the day you spoke to him for the first time. Drunken words were — in fact — sober thoughts, after all. Not to mention that it was the — what, third? — time he almost got to kiss you. Maverick was not the one to pine after someone, he was used to the exact opposite effect, never having to chase anyone.

He liked having to chase after you, though. He liked to dream up flawless scenarios of you, desperately wanting them to come to life. He liked how much of a dopamine rush he got from those breathless conversations and moments with you. It was hard to resist the urge to keep his feelings buried, opting to play them off as a charismatic, casual flirt — because that was what he’d been used to. That was all he knew.

You liked the way he yearned for you as well. He just made you feel so irresistibly wanted and loved, even if his cockiness never really helped his pure feelings come to light. You were very aware of them though, you were in the same page as him, never mind the fact that for you, it happened as an accident. Sure, a little flirting never hurt anyone — but oh, he was holding your hand (and for some reason you found yourself struggling to breathe steadily.)

In the morning, you woke up wanting to beat yourself to death. You’d been mindless; consuming all that alcohol, getting yourself hammered and ignoring the consequences.

Goose’s words were bloody when he said that Maverick technically had every right to hit on others. Goose’s words teared your heartstrings in pieces and made you conscious of how you’d been accusing everyone else to be a jerk, when in reality, you’d been the only twat in the story.

Maverick probably hated you.

Tom would probably hate you, too.

You tried. Gave it your all — good point to chuckle — to make your relationship with him work, but every time you closed your eyes, your mind betrayed you, unable of getting a certain someone out of the picture. The worst thing was the fact that you didn’t even really care whether Tom would want to cut you off once he found out about the situation you’d been dealing with.

You were frightened of the scenario where Pete stopped caring about you, mostly because it was impossible to imagine. Therefore, you did your best to turn yourself invisible by making up a rushed excuse of being too hungover to properly function at Top Gun, opting to stay home.

Tom respected your decision, wishing you to get well soon as he gave you a sweet kiss goodbye.

“Fuck,” you muttered as you fell back on the couch with a plop. You felt as if hours had passed when a thud on the door startled you. You fumbled to get up, standing unblinking as you opened the door to see Maverick holding a paper bag with both of his hands as he fiddled the heel of his shoe around the floor while chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Heard Ice say you felt poorly and got you something,” he spoke lowly, reaching his hand out for you to take the item he held. Your lips parted in silent surprise as you hesitantly invited him in. “Look, I know you don’t want to see me, but you might as well say a word, because it’s getting sort of weird.”

“Maverick, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d bring you a little something to eat.”

You honestly despised the man. How did he still care about you after you you’d been unable to seal your mouth shut the night before, yammering about mistreating you (mind the irony), you didn’t know. Still, that did not constitute an obstacle for you to lunge forward and fling yourself into his arms, your head hitting against his chest as you encircled his waist tightly. You moved your head a little, stopping dead in your tracks as your ear picked up the sound of his heartbeat violently increasing.

He still had to reach for you, taken aback by your sudden affection and not being sure how to react. Maverick’s brain short-circuited, until everything finally clicked and he was holding you so close to his body, he thought he was squishing the life out of you — but he never heard you complain.

“I’m so sorry, Pete,” you whispered, muffled in the fabric of his shirt. You wanted to say more, apologize for being so ridiculously indecisive and not giving him the chance to move on, instead having him wait until you could grow a pair and end things with Tom, but the words died down in your throat when you felt his fingers tangle in your hair, his palm now cupping the back of your head. He knew you could hear his heartbeat and he also knew it was giving him away.

When you pulled away, your knees buckled and you almost melted into a puddle. His hands had somehow traveled down to your smaller ones, holding them delicately.

Take me to bed or lose me forever.

“It’s a grilled cheese, in case you were wondering, by the way,” Maverick blurted, looking over to the paper bag with the food you’d left on a counter.

“I love it.” I love you.

“I need to get going.”

“No,” you argued, grabbing his hand in yours the moment he reached for the door handle. “Stay here with me. I’m sure Viper’s more than happy that you’re not there to wreck the planes. Goose might be missing you, but he can cry about it to Carole when the day is over.”

Maverick let an amused chuckle escape from his lips as he wrapped his fingers around your wrists, gently rubbing on the skin with his thumbs.

“You want me to stay with you?” he asked in disbelief. It was adorable how flustered he was.

“I’m not repeating anything, Mitchell.”

With a little smirk and a smudge look on his face, he moved toward you, leaning in closer to your lips, which was a scenario you’d accepted, hadn’t he had a sudden change of heart and went for your forehead instead, pressing a long, warm kiss against it that made you shudder under his touch.

“You want me to stay with you,” he chimed, sounding more as if he was bragging to himself.

You tried to stifle a smile as you placed your ear over his drumming heartbeat, already forgetting you had the whole ‘sick from the booze’ act to keep up, but then again, when had you ever been able to hide what you really felt around Maverick?

“We can’t be here though,” you suddenly mouthed, the image of Tom unlocking the door to you and the man he hated snuggling comfortably up on the couch causing sweat to form on the back of your neck as you pushed Maverick away from you and fixed your fingers through your hair.

“Why not?” You gave him a knowing look that made him sigh. “We can’t hide forever, you know.”

Deciding to ignore his comment, you dragged him outside by the hand, nodding where he’d parked his motorcycle. “Cliff tops,” you silently explained and saw the corners of his lips turn upward as he helped you onto the seat.

It seemed to startle him when you wrapped your arms around his middle, laying your face against the fabric of the leather jacket that covered his back, turning his head ever so slightly to look at you with that charming Maverick smirk of his.

Your heart hammered against your chest as he began driving, hair flying carelessly through the wind, leaning further into him and clutching your intertwined hands firmly against his stomach.

Your brain felt as if it was fogged by the light fragrance he was wearing, head nuzzling on his shoulder now, lips moving dangerously close to his cheek. You let them carefully graze his skin, feeling him shudder — or was it just your mind playing tricks on you?

After having arrived at the tops, Maverick got off his motorcycle, lending you his hand to take as he helped you get off as well, shaky, nervous fingers testing the waters as he gently let them linger around yours, waiting for your hand to pull away. Instead, your knuckles tightened, grasp sinking into his, not daring to look up at him for capturing his reaction.

He sat next to you on the hill, so close that the warmth radiating from his outer thigh gave you goosebumps. You shifted just a little, so that your leg could be touching his, eyes darting down on your lap as you crossed your arms.

“It’s beautiful up here. I like how I can consider it our spot now,” you heard Maverick mutter.

“Our spot?”

His head turned to look at you. “Yeah. Ideally, the first time I would’ve liked to bring you here would be a date, but I can settle for the late sneak-out after your fight with Kazansky.”

Your heart clenched as you hesitantly met his cherishing gaze. You hadn’t wanted anyone like that in really long time and it felt like something was sucking the soul out of you. “Maverick?”

“Hm?”

“When you’re flying, you might lose power. It’s a fatal risk, but it doesn’t stop you from enlisting in the Navy. Flying at up to 700 mph, the smallest mistake can be deadly, your plane could plunge out of the sky, break apart on impact. The cockpit is too small, so you’ll feel like your losing your breath even though you might not have died just yet — and it’s all terrifying and out of control.”

Maverick stared blankly at you, waiting for you to make a point. “What are you trying to say?”

“This is exactly how I feel whenever you look at me,” you finally mustered the courage to confess, seeing your lip starting to quiver. Unsure of how to properly weave the complexity of your feelings, you opted to let your pinky softly wrap around his.

Maverick stared at you, jaw slightly hung, eyes gleaming. “You feel that way about me?”

His question came out so shaky and gentle that it worsened your situation of trying not to break down right there in front of him. “Of course I do. You’re so ridiculously insufferable, I hate you.”

He cocked his head to the side with the tiniest hint of a smirk. “But you love flying.”

“I love flying,” you confirmed, letting the rest of your fingers wrap around his hand as you brought it over to your lap, holding it firmly enough to believe that what was happening in that moment was not just a figment of your imagination.

“I love flying, too.”

With hope written all over your face, your mouth stretched into a grin, holding back a giggle. God, when had you turned fourteen all over again?

Right when you were about to say something, you felt his lips ghost above your forehead before he was leaning down just a bit and kissing the bridge of your nose as tenderly as he could, making you dizzy and unable to think straight. Kiss me, kiss me before I regret it, before I start thinking again. He stalled against you, foreheads now touching as he realized that you hadn’t moved away from him yet.

“Take me to bed or lose me forever.”

“What?”

“It’s what Carole says to Goose. Said. I don’t know if she still tells him that. I never got it, to be honest, but all I know is that I don’t want to lose you, Maverick. Never,” you explained breathily.

“You’re not losing me, not even if you want to,” Maverick chuckled, letting a warm puff hit your already very reddened cheeks. You smiled at him, head now moving forward, so that you could nudge the top of his nose with your own.

“Pete,” you whispered, the words coming out as a ghost tugging at his heart. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, bringing you oh so impossibly close to him that if you squinted hard enough, your lips would be touching. And there it was again; that look he’d been giving you ever since the day you met, lovestruck eyes melting into yours. “Drop looking at me like that, Pete.”

“I can’t,” he spoke, voice weary as if he was on the verge of tears. “You walked in the room the first time Viper came in and the breath was knocked out of my lungs the very same second. So, no, I don’t think I can look at you in a way that’s not giving away how deeply head over heels I—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, stunned by his words. “Don’t continue the sentence, Mav. Don’t continue it, because if you do, I’m going to lose every last ounce of self control I have in my body right now and I should warn you, there’s not much remaining.”

Maverick nodded slowly in acceptance before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, then deciding to be brave, ducking down just the right direction to kiss the corner of your lips. His palms were still holding onto your cheeks, applying more pressure now as he let his mouth linger, heads connecting. You were about to lose it; all the sanity in your system, all the thoughts of do’s and dont’s. With a slight angle twist, he could be kissing you properly, on the lips, but every cell in your body was sweating to prevent that from happening. It was killing you.

“I love flying so much, Roger. So much that I don’t care if it costs me my life, I’m going to keep pursuing breaking the typical rules and fly on my own. It makes me feel alive,” Maverick confessed.

“You should,” you replied breathlessly. “It’ll get you places, Pete. You can hold your own.”

“Take me to bed,” he whispered, loud enough so that you heard him, a small smirk creeping up against the — now flushed from the kiss — corners of your lips.

“Or lose me forever.”

tags:

@holishol

@honeymvnt

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ruhjkie · 2 months ago

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Threads of Time (part 2)

Summary: In a twist of fate, after their respective deaths, Aemond and Lucerys are transported back in time to the pivotal moment in Storm's End—just before Aemond demands Lucerys' eye as payment for an old debt. Unbeknown to each other, they are thrust into the very moment that changed their lives forever. As tensions rise and old wounds reopen, both must confront the weight of their past actions.

Words: 1900

Pairing(s): Aemond Targaryen/Lucerys Velaryon

Author's note: inspired by a lovely idea from @technicallyfriendly. Thank you for allowing me to use it <3

Also posted on AO3

Here: Part 1

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

The storm outside Storm's End mirrored the chaos within Aemond Targaryen’s mind. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the castle's stone walls and casting fleeting shadows over the wet ground. The rain pounded against the ancient stone, as if the heavens themselves were weeping for what was about to unfold. Inside the Hall, plans were being plotted and war was in motion. Uneasiness also settled over Aemond like a heavy cloud, nibbling his thoughts as the conversation drifted on. Then Lucerys Velaryon walked in, and time seemed to bleed into itself, twisting the very fabric of reality. The presence of his nephew, the cause of his rage, was a cruel reminder of the fate that had shaped him. Aemond was no longer just Aemond. Was he ever? He wasLucerys' making, both blades borned from the same iron.

"Wait, my Lord Strong. Did you truly believe you could fly across the realm, scheming to steal my brother’s throne without consequence?" The words tasted bitter, as if they belonged to someone else—spoken once before, in another time. A sudden sense of déjà vu came over him, but the words had already been spoken before he could prevent it again. "You owe me a debt, taoba. An eye for an eye.”

Something odd happened, Lucerys did not flinch, nor did he attempt to flee as Aemond had silently hoped, as he had in another time. Deep down, Aemond had wanted him to flee. Instead, in that exact moment, memories tore through his mind—visions of death, fire and blood, of a dragon’s roar ripping through stormy skies, a sword, a boy's fall and the suffocating pull of the sea. He saw it all: brutal and swift, the consequences of Lucerys’ fall—the boy he had chased in blind vengeance. He was truly back again at Storm’s End, to the exact moment everything had gone out of control, where he had lost everything, his everything. From the look in Lucerys’ eyes—determined yet fearful—Aemond recognized it, the same shared fate, the boy must have remembered too. All happened too fast, Lucerys moved swiftly his hand finding the small dagger in one fluid motion, as if fate were dragging them both into the same inevitable end once more. It was Aemond who had tossed the blade, but just like that stormy time, Lucerys provoked it too, setting everything into motion. Aemond, blinded by his own rage then, had lost control, and now, watching the scene unfold before him again, he realized he was helpless to prevent it once more.

Aemond knew that his thirst for retribution had clouded his judgment back then, consuming him until he could no longer see anything beyond the boy’s face. As if It was Lucerys who had led him into the storm, into the chaos, and Aemond, driven by fury, had followed blindly, seeking an eye for an eye, not realizing that in doing so, he was sealing his own fate. Now, the weight of that moment—and the guilt that clung to him like a shadow—had left him hollow again. He had thought himself in control, but in truth, he had been blinded by Lucerys all along. He imagined this moment countless times—dreamed of the satisfaction that would come with finally claiming his revenge. But now, standing there, with the memories of another life still burning in his mind, the satisfaction was gone. It was never just about his eye, taken as a debt he never wanted to pay. What he truly wanted was for Lucerys to be accountable, to take responsibility for his mistakes—for anything, really. An apology, even. But nothing ever happened to the King’s favorite grandchild.

“No—” Aemond’s voice broke, he lunged forward, desperate to stop him, but he was too late. The boy had already fallen. Then, the weight of it all settled over him, and he realized that the vengeance he had once so desperately craved felt hollow. All he could see was Lucerys, crumpled on the ground, the eye that lay discarded beside him like a broken promise. Lucerys looked up at Aemond, his voice barely a whisper.

"Will you leave me be, qȳbor? Is the object of your torment finally settled? Am I free?"

The question cut through Aemond like a blade, will he really hold to his word? Would it truly change anything? What had he truly gained from this confrontation? Lucerys lives, but for how long?. The Greens had secured Storm’s End, Lord Borros had exchange a marriage pact, an offer of alliance, but with what had just happened, that promise seemed fragile at best. And for all that Lucerys was bleeding, alone, no new alliance had been won for his mother. Except, perhaps, if Borros reconsiders, fearing retaliation from the Blacks or the inevitable chaos that had unleashed in his hall. So, if both lose Storm’s End, what then? Aemond could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, suffocating and relentless. Had time stopped, or was his mind racing too fast to keep up? Thoughts swirled chaotically—Lucerys was alive, the debt was paid, but what did it matter now? If the boy somehow made it back to Dragonstone, what good would it do? He would return without an eye, stripped of his pride, with no support, and no closer to ending this war. Would any of this prevent what comes next?

His thoughts drifted to his sweet Helaena, whose innocence had been shattered by the violence set in motion the day Lucerys died. Aemond’s actions had sparked a brutal chain of events—his sister’s despair, the murder of her children, and the unending bloodshed that followed. If Lucerys lived now, would it change anything? Could they stop this before it escalated beyond control? Did Lucerys even understand the chaos his so-called father had unleashed in his name? Perhaps Daemon would seek retribution not for Lucerys’ death, but for his son’s mutilation instead. And maybe, just maybe, Lucerys living wouldn’t change anything at all. So, what end was there in either of them returning? Though the end was written, could their actions change the course of it? Could Aemond and Lucerys, standing at the edge of this storm, alter the path just enough to avoid the worst of it or was it too late? If they turned their backs on their families, choosing peace over bloodshed, would they be seen as traitors by their own blood? Aemond’s mind raced, confusion clouding his thoughts. What was he supposed to do? Could we ever truly stop it? Aemond wondered.

He had spent years chasing revenge, but now he was lost, unsure of what came next. Aemond’s resolve wavered as he stood over Lucerys, staring at the boy’s tear-streaked face. He had dreamed of balance, but nothing about this felt right. It felt pointless. The eye lost, the blood spilled—none of it would bring back the horrors that had unfolded. And even now, with Lucerys maimed and begging, Aemond couldn’t see a way out of this endless cycle of pain and retribution. When they walk away from this, Lucerys would return to Dragonstone, missing an eye but still a symbol of the Blacks’ defiance. His mother would see his wound as a call to vengeance that would only fuel the flames already burning within her. And what of Aemond? He would return to King's Landing, as a victor only in name, with Storm’s End sworn to their cause but with nothing gained in his heart. His grandfather would likely praise him for securing the Baratheon allegiance, and his poor mother might look upon him with concern, seeing the blood on his hands and the growing darkness in his soul. In the end, they were both marching toward the same fate. The dance had already begun, and neither of them could stop it.

Aemond glanced down at Lucerys beneath his touch, and he noticed: his boy, his nephew, his enemy—was as trapped as he was. They were bound by blood, by duty, by the choices of their parents, caught in a cycle neither of them had ever truly controlled. Was it the shared burden of their lineage, the invisible chains of expectation, or the cruel irony that both were prisoners of a war they never chose? Even now, Lucerys likely hated him, feared him. And as he looked into his nephew's eyes, Aemond felt, for a fleeting moment, something dangerously close to understanding.

And yet, there was something more—something that tethered them together in this moment, something unspoken and unsettling. What is it? with his fingers still gently brushing the bloodied curls from Lucerys’ face. He had hated him for so long, blamed him for everything. But now, with Lucerys trembling beneath his fingers, Aemond saw something he had never allowed himself to see before. Those big, round eyes—people always said they were plain, but now Aemond could see that there was nothing plain about Lucerys Velaryon. He was every inch his mother’s son. The Targaryen blood flowed in him indubitably, his dark curls now damp with sweat and blood, falling into his one remaining eye. Beautiful

He gazes at those curls—dark and untamed , clinging the boy's face. A strange urge crept into him, an absurd longing to run his fingers through them, to feel their softness despite the blood and grime, wanting to touch the very hair that symbolized everything he had hated. He resisted the urge, but the thought lingered, unsettling. They smell of salt and sea, and at that moment, he almost laughed. It was indeed a mockery. There was something about the boy that always tied him to the waves, to the endless expanse of water— the sea did claim him, he recalled, just as it had Luke when he fell from the sky. The boy belonged to the sea as much as any Velaryon. bound to its depths, just as Aemond was bound in his doom. The sea had called them both, and perhaps it was always destined to tie them again.

“Yes,” Aemond whispered, his voice thick with a grief he did not yet understand. “Yes, taoba, you may leave.”

Aemond could see Luke's hesitate, his one remaining eye searching Aemond’s face for any sign of deceit, but there was none. His gaze softened; his usual cold resolve melted away, replaced by a flicker of regret—or perhaps the dim glow of a truth neither of them could name. He watched as he rose unsteadily, the pain from his missing eye a sharp reminder of the cost of this encounter, yet Aemond made no move to stop him. They were no longer hunter and prey but simply two souls adrift in the storm of their families’ making.

As the crowd began to close in around them, Aemond heard distant echoes, voices swirling in a haze, but he couldn’t quite distinguish the sounds. His focus remained locked on Luke, astonishment coursing through him as he processed the gravity of the moment. And then it happened—He had fell to the ground, but this time, Aemond was right there to catch him.

"Luke," Aemond breathed, a mix of urgency and despair, his heart racing as he held the boy steady. “I won’t let you fall again. I regret it all”

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

So, that’s it! I hope you all enjoyed it. I tried to end this in the best way possible and settle all the unanswered questions. I hope you liked it as much as I did.

To address some remaining questions, I left a open ending because I might be bold enough to continue this, even though I highly think the conclusion will go closely with canon—or perhaps even go sadder. Who knows? That’s why I included some hints in case it goes into a series. Let me know if you caught them!

I think Aemond is the kind of person who always overthinks everything and plans for the worst before considering the good, so I portrayed him in that light here. I hope that decision pays off.

I would love to hear your opinions, critiques, or any thoughts you have!

Thank you!

#lucemond #aemond x lucerys #house of the dragon #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucemond fanfic #lucerys x aemond #a song of ice and fire

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deobienthusiast · 6 months ago

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be my only one | jacob bae

• pairing: ex!jacob x gn!reader

• word count: 3.7k words

• genre: exes to lovers, angst, fluff, non-idol jacob, non-idol tbz members, there is also a mention of non idol joshua because why not🤷🏾‍♀️

• rating: PG

• warnings: jacob makes the executive decisions in that make him and reader sad, the sad parts are pretty sad guys, BUT IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE!!!!, make out sesh also

• tagging: @deoboyznet

• notes: based off of leehi’s only (love that song so much! a favorite of mine) ex jacob trying to rekindle the flame with the only person he wants to be with! WELL WE LOVE THAT!!!!! i didn’t bother to have anyone beta read this because i feel as though we’ve collectively all waited long enough as a group. BANNA BANNA BY @daemour (thank you so much love🩵) THE ENDING IS SO FUCKING BAD OH MY GOD WHY AM I SO SHIT AT WRITING ENDINGS.

If Jacob had to pinpoint the exact moment his life went to shit, it would have to be when he lost you. You were his world, his life. Hell, Jacob would go as far as to say you made up his entire existence. There was no reason to go on if you weren’t there, no reason to wake up in the morning if he didn’t get to see you first. You were single-handedly the only reason Jacob continued on this planet. All the bullshit, violence, corruption, politics. He could ignore all of it when you were around.

To Jacob you were what the sun revolved around. Screw the solar system, screw space, screw NASA. The universe’s entire makeup was created specifically for you in his eyes.

Jacob only knew how to treat you like a delicate flower. He was the gentleman type. Constantly opening doors, lifting heavy objects, carrying the groceries in the house in one trip (which he was positive he could do each time until he tripped over one of his shoes the last time and face-planted). He wanted to be your knight in shining armor, and he was. Always coming to your rescue and supporting you in everything that you did. So, when you came to him that one day, almost three years into your relationship, to rave about getting the dream job opportunity you had been working so hard for, he was ecstatic. Jacob was so proud of you. This was what you had worked so hard for. All the late nights, plans canceled (something Jacob never let you feel bad about), the constant studying, numerous tests. It was all for this big moment.

The happiest moment of his life was finding out you were getting everything you wanted.

“I did it Cobie! I did it! I got the job.” You said excitedly, handing him the acceptance letter.

You were too caught up in your own excitement and emotions to notice Jacob’s dark eyes scaling the acceptance letter. He was particularly locked into the almost two year internship that would bring you across the ocean, away from your home, from your friends and family. More importantly, away from him. Jacob couldn’t be bothered to say anything. He would never want to take this moment from you, so he bit his tongue.

The next time you saw all your friends, you raved about the job opportunity, making everyone buzz with anticipation. They knew how hard you had worked, Jacob had kept them all filled in whether they liked it or not. Sangyeon suggested a party before you left to celebrate.

A going away party.

Jacob hated those words. He didn’t want you to go away, whether it was your dream job or not. He wanted you to stay with him forever. Jacob wanted to tell you that the job he had was enough to support the both of you. He worked hard so that you wouldn’t have to, but that would be selfish. That would make Jacob everything he’s really not. When it comes to you, though, he wants to be the most selfish person on the planet. He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t. That wouldn’t be fair to you, and all the work you put into this.

The party came quickly. Jacob was heartbroken. Because the party meant you left quicker. You had noticed a change in his mood, the closer the party got. His attitude had changed so drastically that you hadn’t seen him in almost a week when the party arrived due to him staying with his friend Kevin. You weren’t sure what the issue was, why was the love of your life acting this way. You needed to talk to him about your leaving, you needed to reassure him everything was going to be okay. Jacob wasn’t giving you the opportunity, though.

Everyone arrived at yours around 6. Food, drinks, and lots of storytelling are what the night entailed, but it was hard to enjoy anything with your better half keeping a football field length distance between the two of you all night. Eventually, enough was enough. You watched two of your young neighbors pull Jacob into the kitchen to get him a drink, clearly trying to convince the older boy that alcohol will temporarily solve his bad mood. As you stood, you were stopped by Kevin.

“Jacob has been spending a lot of time at my place.” He said, leaning in close to speak into your ear so you’d be able to hear him over the bustling noise of your party.

You looked at the boy with sad eyes. “He won’t talk to me. I’m assuming this is because I’m leaving.”

“Can’t get anything past you, huh?” Kevin teased in an attempt to lighten the mood.

You frowned as you stepped away from him, heading towards the kitchen to hopefully rescue a sober Jacob before Sunwoo and Eric got him too plastered. This impending conversation would need to be done sober.

Jacob was in somewhat better spirits when you located him in the kitchen. He was sandwiched between the two boys, and they were all laughing about something, you weren’t sure what.

“Jacob,” You spoke softly, so softly that Sunwoo and Eric didn’t hear. Jacob did, though. He always did.

Jacob let his eyes slowly trail up and down your body. You always looked so effortlessly beautiful. He was so enamored with you, it wasn’t even funny. Your call out to him by his full name was a distress call. You were upset, you were bothered, and he was the cause of it. Jacob hated that. He hated making you upset. Jacob was a very sensible person, he wasn’t one to fret too easily on things. He was a very good communicator. So for him to leave you in the dark for days was uncharacteristic of him. He just needed time to process everything.

Jacob cleared his throat in a sign for the two younger boys to make themselves scarce in the kitchen. He was buzzing on account of the two shots they had managed to get into his system, but he was still sober enough to have a conversation with you. The conversation.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Stupid question. He knew the answer, so why ever ask.

Your eyes rushed to his, darting back and forth as a look of confusion crossed over your face. “Okay? Okay? Why would I be okay when my boyfriend has been avoiding me for a week?”

Jacob flinched at your frustrated tone. Your voice had raised just slightly, loud enough to echo off the white kitchen walls decorated with gold accents, but not loud enough to stop the party that was still going strong hours later.

“I just need time.” Jacob said quietly.

You shrugged, throwing your hands in the air in the process. “Time for what? Time to not talk about our feelings and process things together?”

Jacob sighed. “You’re leaving.”

“Which we knew would happen if I got the internship.” You countered.

“Yeah. But I was expecting like six months, not sixteen. You’re going to be gone for almost two years.” Jacob raised his voice this time.

Long gone was the boy you fell in love with. This was a whole new Jacob that clearly had formed in the week that he was avoiding you. His statement had filtered out of the kitchen, catching the ears of passerby’s. Some stopped by the kitchen doors to crack it open and eavesdrop. It was rare that the two of you fought, opting to keep any issues you had behind closed doors so this was new territory to your friends.

You chuckled to yourself. “Jacob, I didn’t know the internship was going to be that long. Nor did I know they would be sending me all the way across the globe. I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“I am happy for you, but you can’t expect me to not be upset that the love of my life is going to be leaving.”

Tears began to prickle the corners of your eyes. You had never seen Jacob like this before, he had never spoken to you in such a stern tone. You weren’t sure what to do, but you just wanted to make him feel better.

“Okay, so I’ll give it up then. I won’t go. I wouldn’t be able to focus anyway if my boyfriend is heartbroken over the fact that I’m not with him.” You said.

By this time the music had stopped, people were listening in, or standing outside the now open kitchen door, watching.

“You don’t have to do that. And I won’t let you.” Jacob said.

Kevin had pushed his way through the crowd, almost knowing exactly what Jacob was going to say next, as he tried to stop the boy.

“I’m not going to let you give up your dream job for me. I would never let you do that.” Jacob began.

“Hey, maybe we should all just take a breather.” Kevin chimed in softly.

“I’m breaking up with you.” Jacob said quietly.

Your eyes widened at his statement. “What?”

Jacob looked down at his worn sneakers, the same ones you gifted him when you first started dating. The same sneakers you would always tell him you’d buy a new pair because no amount of washing was going to make them look better.

“I’m not letting you give this up for me. And if you won’t be able to focus knowing I won’t be able to function without you, then I’ll make the decision simple. No reason for you not to go if there isn’t a reason to stay.”

You took a step towards the boy, grabbing his hand as you sniffled. “Jacob, please. Don’t do this.”

Slowly, he pulled his hand from yours.

“It’s already done. Party’s over.”

That was the last thing Jacob had said to you before you left for your internship. He didn’t want to make the situation harder than it had to be, so he didn’t go with you to the airport. Your shared friends were not pleased by this. A final opportunity to see each other, and Jacob chose to let you leave on your own. No goodbye, no see you soon, no I love you. None of this was like Jacob, like your Jacob. You decided to just let bygones be bygones. You decided to suck it up, and you left.

The first few months were the hardest. You missed Jacob terribly. You avoided Chinese restaurants and frozen yogurt stores. Botanical gardens and zoos were a no go. Jacob felt the same way. Every little thing reminded him of you. What he didn’t realize was that eventually you became numb to the pain. You had to push on, even if you didn’t want to.

When you got your first promotion during your internship, you had to resist the overwhelming urge to call him. One because he was in a totally different timezone than Los Angeles, and two because you weren’t together anymore. You did call Kevin and Sangyeon, though. And they made sure to inform Jacob of your successes. Jacob couldn’t have been happier for you. Everything was working out for you. You updated Kevin and Sangyeon whenever you could on anything new and exciting while you were in the states. It became a habit to talk to them, and it was no longer because you knew they would tell Jacob. It was because you just wanted to tell someone about what’s going on. You made new friends, started going out again. From Jacob’s heard perspective, you were happy. That was good enough for him. Sort of.

The sixteen month internship went by fast. Before you knew it, it was time to come back home. Jacob had managed to make it an almost full two years without you. He clearly was not the same. He hid himself away, and didn't like going out with friends. It got to the point that Kevin and Sangyeon stopped updating him about you, because they refused to feel sorry for him anymore.

Jacob knew his friends well enough to know that they had been visiting you when you got back home. They probably weren’t telling him to spare his feelings, but he just wished they’d let him know how you were. He wanted to know everything. If you had changed, if you were going to go back to the states, if the internship was everything you had hoped it had been or more. He wanted, no, needed to see you. Thus came his chance.

“A party?” Jacob asked softly, staring down at the takeout Kevin had brought him.

Kevin shook his head with a shrug. “It’s more like a welcome home dinner. No heavy alcohol, no loud music. Just friends catching up with a friend. You should be there, Cob. We’d all want you there.”

Jacob looked up from his food. “We?”

Kevin nodded, giving Jacob a reassuring smile. “We.”

To say Jacob was nervous would be a vast understatement. He was pretty sure he was sweating from places he didn’t know he could sweat from. Everyone was already at the restaurant Kevin had picked for dinner. There was talking and laughing, hugging, some people notably crying. Jacob was greeted warmly by his friends, and for the first time in almost two years a genuine smile made its way to his face. He sat down next to Kevin, joining into the conversation before someone spoke.

“Look who’s here!”

Heads turned to the doorway of the back room everyone was in, and Jacob felt time stop. You looked ethereal, stunning. Your hair had grown. Your style had even changed, but you. You were still you. You still looked like you did when you left. A smile was adorning your round face. The bubbly pep in your step had Jacob smiling to himself. There was a slight flush on your face, most likely from the uncharacteristically warm weather outside. You were looking around, being pulled in every different direction imaginable by friends greeting you. That was until you saw him. When your eyes met, Jacob felt fireworks go off in his stomach. He had never felt so jittery in his life. It was like he had drunk the world's biggest and strongest red bull. A small smile made its way across your full lips as you lifted your hand, giving Jacob a small wave. Jacob returned it.

He stood up to greet you, ready to give you a hug and feel you in his arms again, but you were intercepted by Sunwoo and Eric. Jacob could only laugh. Of course the two youngest of your friends managed to get to you first. You let out a loud laugh as they tackled you, and butterflies bloomed in Jacob’s stomach this time. The sound of your laugh brought back so many memories that Jacob became glued to his spot. He watched the rest of your shared friends get up and greet you, hugging you tightly as if you’d dare to even leave again. It wasn’t until a tall figure appeared behind you that Jacob was eventually pulled back down to Earth. For the first time since you walked in the room all but five minutes ago, Jaocb’s eyes weren’t on you. Rather they were on the person, the man, who showed up behind you.

You stepped back from everyone and looked at the boy. He smiled at you before giving everyone else a smile as your friends warmly greeted him.

“This is Joshua! He was my roomie in the states. I figured I would bring him back so he could meet some of my favorite people.” You told everyone.

Jacob watched the way you two were looking at each other. He couldn’t read the look on your face, apparently you had gotten really good at masking your emotions while in the states. He was able to get a good read on Joshua’s face, though. The look he knew all too well, because he would give you the exact same look. You both managed to make your way through the sea of friends and sit at the large table set up for your party.

You ended up being seated right next to Jacob. Joshua sat across from you and was able to be bombarded by Kevin and your other friend Chanhee to tell his life story. This gave you an opportunity to give Jacob a look over before speaking.

“Hi Cobie.” You whispered softly.

As always, Jacob heard you. You could be a million miles away, and he would still hear you. You just had that effect on him.

He looked at you, finally getting an up close look and felt his breath catch in his throat. You looked perfect.

“Hi.”

A smile made its way to your face at the sound of his voice. “How have you been?”

Jacob smiled back. “I’ve been good.”

Jacob ended the conversation there, much to your dismay. He didn’t want to get into how he had been while you were gone. The truth is, he hadn’t been good at all. In fact, he had been an absolute wreck. He felt like he was trying to function without one of his limbs. He didn’t want to ruin your dinner, though.

The night went by smoothly. Everyone seemed to get along well with your friend, if that’s what he was that is. Jacob mainly kept to himself. Only getting a moment of silence when he excused himself to use the restroom. Kevin followed the boy, stopping him at the restroom door as he looked over Jacob.

“So are you two going to talk or just ignore each other the whole night?”

Jacob shook his head. “We have talked.”

Kevin scoffed. “That’s not what I meant. There are unresolved issues that need to be fixed. I’ll lock the both of you in the closest until they are.”

Jacob let out a sigh, knowing the boy was right. He sulked on the way back to the table, catching your eye in the process. He sat in silence for a moment, feeling your gaze on him. You let out a sigh before laying your hand on his arm.

“Maybe we should talk.”

Jacob looked at you as he nodded. You both stood up to excuse yourselves and headed for the entrance. When you both got outside, the silence of the dark night sky greeted you both. The moonlight cast shadows across your face that made your features pop. Jacob probably said this every time he saw you, but he was still convinced he had never seen you look more beautiful than you did in this moment.

“How were the states?” Jacob asked, breaking the silence first.

You smiled, turning to him as you tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “It was amazing. I learned so much. Made new friends, experienced new things. I missed home, though.”

Jacob nodded. “You missed your friends.”

A small nod followed his statement. “I missed you, Jacob.”

The boy could only look at you before finally letting it all out. “I’ve missed you. So much. You remember earlier you asked me how I was doing. I told you I’m doing okay, but the truth is, I’ve been absolutely terrible. I literally just got back into a healthy eating and sleeping routine again. When you went to the states, you took a piece of me with you. I never wanted to leave our, I mean, my apartment. I stayed inside all the time. I practically became a recluse. I turned down every offer to go out and spend time with friends. Kevin even tried inviting my family, but it was enough. I thought I would be able to handle ending our relationship. I would never want to hold you back and when you mentioned giving up your internship just to make me happy, I panicked. I was afraid you’d end up resenting me in the long run. I figured I might as well break up with you, because I knew you would leave. There would be nothing to keep you here.”

“You’re wrong.” You whispered.

Jacob gave you a confused look. “I am?”

You chuckled. “Yes. I’ve always had a reason to not leave home, and it’s you Jacob. It’s always been you.”

You stopped only to open your mouth and then close it again just so you could formulate your feelings correctly. “Jacob, I learned a lot about myself while I was in the states. I learned a lot about myself as a person, and I learned a lot about what I want in my life and my career. A lot of things changed for me for the better while I was away, but the one thing that didn’t change was the strength of my feelings for you. The love I have for you, how in love with you I am, that never once wavered. I didn’t even bother trying to find a way to get over you because no one would’ve compared.”

“Not even Joshua?”

His comment made you laugh as you took a step towards him. Jacob took the opportunity to wrap his arms tightly around your waist, trapping you against his chest.

“Not even Joshua, Cobie. He’s just a friend. I promise. I love you, Jacob Bae.” You told him, inching yourself closer and closer until your nose was bumping against his.

Jacob grinned, laying a long passionate kiss to your lips. You practically melted against him, dragging your hands up his chest and to his shoulders before wrapping them around his neck. You tugged ever so gently at the hair sitting at the nape of his neck, making the boy shiver. You pulled away from him, giggling slightly as he whined quietly and tried to chase after your lips.

“Easy tiger. Plenty of me to go around.” You told him jokingly.

Jacob let out a breathy laugh, tightening his grip around you. “I’m not sharing you with anyone. Not Joshua or the states. I’m dragging you back to our apartment and locking the door.”

He lifted you just slightly off the ground, giving you another kiss before he pulled away this time. “I love you, too.”

all the fics belong to @deobienthusiast and are protected under copyright- absolutely no translating/reposting or claiming my work as your own.

#deoboyznet #kvanity #k-labels #wkcnet #the boyz #tbz #the boyz jacob #tbz jacob #bae joonyoung #jacob bae #the boyz imagines #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz x reader #tbz x y/n #tbz x you #tbz jacob imagines #tbz jacob x you #tbz jacob x reader

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