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helen-with-an-a · 1 day ago

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Healing

Hi, so this is Part 2 of You Hate Me. There will definitely be a part 3 and probably a Part 4. But I hope you enjoy it <3<3<3<3

Shout out to @lyak12 for helping me out and giving me encouragement ahahaha - forehead smooches for uuuu 💕

Part 1 : Part 2

Lucy Bronze x sister!Reader

Description: R finally starts to move on and heal

Word Count: 3.4k

It was silent. The kind of silence that stretched across the room like a suffocating blanket, pressing against the walls until they seemed to shrink inward. You could have heard a mouse sneeze or the faintest creak of the old floorboards beneath the weight of a ghost. Lucy sat motionless on the bed, her posture rigid, her eyes fixed on the phone that lay discarded on the floor like a venomous thing. The glow of its screen had dimmed, but its presence radiated with an almost malevolent energy. Behind her, Ona knelt, her hand half-raised as if reaching for an answer suspended in the thick, unmoving air.

“That’s not true … is it?” Ona’s voice was a whisper, more a breath than a question, barely cutting through the silence. But Lucy heard it; she had to. The only response was the tightening of her jaw, the muscle tensing so sharply it seemed to carve shadows across her cheek.

“Lucia?” Ona ventured again, her voice fragile, cracking like thin ice. This time, she reached out, fingers brushing lightly against the soft fabric of Lucy’s shirt. The moment shattered like glass as Lucy shot up, the bed creaking beneath her sudden movement. She snatched up her phone and began to pace, the rhythmic thud of her footsteps filling the silence with tension.

“Lucia.” Ona’s voice turned firmer, cutting through the charged space like a blade.

“What, Ona?” Lucy snapped, spinning on her heel. Her eyes, usually so warm, were storm-dark, and for a moment Ona flinched under the glare.

“What she just said … that’s not true, is it? It can’t be true.” The question hung in the air between them, an accusation and a plea tangled into one.

“Well, it is,” Lucy said, each word dropping like a stone into the pit between them. The room seemed to shudder with the weight of her admission. Her hand gripped the phone so tightly that her knuckles were white, a stark contrast to the flush of anger spreading across her skin.

The room shifted, the energy twisting and sharp. Ona’s eyes widened; disbelief painted across her features as she searched for anything in Lucy’s expression that would contradict what she had just heard. But there was only raw, unyielding truth.

“You can’t mean that,” Ona said, her voice thickening as emotion clawed at her throat. “Familia … familia is everything.”

“She is not my family,” Lucy spat, the venom in her voice startling in its ferocity. Each syllable dripped with resentment that had festered for years, an old wound torn open and bleeding anew.

“She’s your hermana,” Ona said, her tone wavering between a declaration and a plea. It was as though stating it aloud would shift the reality, would force Lucy to reconsider.

“And I hate her for it,” Lucy replied, her voice breaking at the end, betraying the deep chasm of hurt that lay beneath her anger. She turned away again, shoulders trembling with a mix of fury and something that looked achingly like grief.

It had been three long months since Lucy promised she’d fix things between you. She had looked straight into Ona's eyes, swearing that she would try, that she would reach out, and that she would sit down to talk with you. The weight of that promise hung heavy in the air, a lingering tension that neither of you could shake.

Lucy despised lying to Ona, but the truth was too complicated to share. She couldn’t just send you a random text out of the blue, asking to meet up after everything that had happened. It felt wrong, and even more so, she didn’t even have your number saved in her phone anymore. She thought about it often, how you might react if she did reach out. Deep down, she was fairly certain that, even if she had begged you for a chance to explain herself, you would have turned her away. So, instead, she chose silence.

She took the summer to relax, to move to London, the distance between your flats less than a twenty-minute drive. She started at her new club, immersing herself in work and the hustle of a new city, trying to find a rhythm in her life without you. To Ona, she created a narrative, a facade of resolution. Yes, you had met; yes, you had talked and cried, and yes, you had both agreed to be civil. In her mind, you both started moving on, creating lives that didn’t intersect, both pretending to let go. She didn’t tell Ona that she couldn’t reach out to you. That she didn’t really want too either. She was perfectly happy with the way things were. She had her life, and you had yours. You wouldn’t have wanted her to reach out.

Except you would have. You would have done whatever Lucy wanted, without hesitation. If she had reached out, you would have replied immediately, agreeing to meet with no hesitation, even if self-loathing washed over you in waves. No matter how much you hated yourself for it, the thought of ignoring her would have been unbearable.

You would have walked to that little coffee shop in the heart of London, the very place where countless memories lingered. You would have felt a knot of resentment twist in your stomach with every step. You would have watched the door intently, every minute stretching painfully, your mind racing with what-ifs and should-haves. Each time the bell above the door tinkled, you would have hated the way your heart leapt in response, a foolish flutter of hope that perhaps this time, it would be her. You would have cursed your own vulnerability, the way your body betrayed your resolve to move on.

Yet, despite all the anger and sadness, you would have done it anyway. You would have waited for her, yearning to hear her voice, needing to see her face again, even if it meant grappling with the truth of your tangled emotions. Each moment spent there would be a testament to your feelings, a silent acknowledgment that, despite everything, you were still drawn to her in a way you couldn’t fully understand.

You weren't going to deceive yourself – not anymore. That resolve had taken root in you on that brutal morning when you woke up, head pounding, heart shattered. You had vowed to allow yourself the time to grieve, to feel the sharp ache of loss without rushing the healing process. However long it took, you would give yourself that space. And, day by day, the wounds dulled. Watching Lucy's life unfold from a distance stopped stinging quite so much, and with each sunrise, another small piece of you wove itself back together.

For a week, you allowed yourself to fall apart. You mourned, sobbed, let every pang of sorrow run its course for the sister you had loved like family but had never truly had. Then, you chose to begin again. You left the cramped room in Alnwick, packing your life into boxes and setting your sights on London. There, you poured yourself into work, each task a stitch in the tapestry of a new life. You pushed yourself to meet new people, to explore parts of the city that felt unfamiliar and exciting. Gradually, your time outside the house expanded, and so did your world.

You even made it to an Arsenal-Bayern match – an opportunity to see both Leah and Georgia on the pitch together. Watching them, seeing the warmth in their smiles, and the comfort in their hugs, stirred something inside you. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to imagine it was Lucy’s arms around you, grounding you, holding you close.

"Hello, gorgeous girl," Leah greeted, laughing as she playfully ruffled your hair.

"Hi, Leah," you replied, a soft smile breaking through as you leaned in for a hug.

This wasn’t your first meet-up with Leah. Your mum had reached out to her, asking her to look out for her "littlest baby" as you adjusted to life in London. And just like that, you’d become a sort of unofficial addition to the Arsenal family. Most of the England girls were aware of the strained history with Lucy, how you’d barely registered in her life. Yet, little by little, they’d pulled you into their circle, coaxing you out of your shell and into a place where you finally felt seen.

"Y'know, that offer’s still open," Leah murmured softly, her hands moving in a comforting rhythm along your back.

"I know," you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. "I got another email about it the other day."

Before you could say more, Georgia joined the hug, pulling you both in tight. "What offer?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

You took a breath, letting the excitement bubble up as you spoke. "I got an email … from the FA. They’ve seen my photos – they liked them, actually. They’re offering me a chance to work with them as a photographer. Not the action shots, but the behind-the-scenes stuff. Capturing the players just… living, being themselves, showing the everyday moments."

Georgia’s eyes sparkled as she looked between you and Leah, clearly impressed. "That’s huge!"

"It’s big," you admitted, the reality of it still sinking in. "They want a team of four photographers. To help show the players as normal people. And they’re holding a spot for me if I want it."

Leah grinned, squeezing your shoulder. "You’d be amazing at that. They’d be lucky to have you."

You felt warmth spread through you as their support wrapped around you, grounding you and lifting you at the same time. This opportunity wasn’t just a job – it was a chance to carve out something meaningful, something of your own.

"I want to take it," you murmured softly, the weight of the decision hanging in your voice. "I just…" Your voice trailed off, hesitation tangling with hope.

Leah squeezed you tighter, her voice gentle but firm. "I'll talk to Sarina. Make it clear you’ll be separate. No interactions necessary."

You didn't need to elaborate – Leah and Georgia understood enough. They might not have known every painful detail of your history with Lucy, but they’d seen the shadows that used to linger in your eyes slowly fade. They’d watched as your smiles, once fragile and forced, gradually softened and grew genuine. This job offer was a step forward, but the thought of Lucy potentially being around stirred a familiar unease.

Before the silence could settle too heavily, Georgia nudged Leah with a grin. "Not sure why they think people would want to see Leah more. Everyone knows she's anything but normal." She stuck her tongue out, her playful tone slicing through the tension.

"Says you, cheeky fucker," Leah shot back, rolling her eyes with a grin as she pulled Georgia in for a side hug.

That night, you took a deep breath and sent off the confirmation email. As soon as you hit "send," a mix of excitement and anxiety surged through you, bubbling beneath the surface. It was a huge opportunity, one you’d dreamed of, but the what-ifs nagged at you. What if you ran into Lucy?

You knew she was in London, her presence like a shadow at the back of your mind. Chelsea had welcomed her with open arms, and by all accounts, she was thriving back in the WSL. Her life seemed bright and full – photos of her smiling with her new teammates, celebrating goals, her happiness almost palpable even from afar. She looked like she was where she was meant to be, in a space that had no room for you.

The thought unsettled you. It wasn't the same hurt as before, but an echo of it – a reminder of the distance that had always stretched between you. This new role would bring you closer to the world she lived in, closer than you had been in a long time.

But you reminded yourself of Leah and Georgia’s words, their support grounding you. They would be there, making sure you had the space to grow and heal without the interference of old wounds. You could do this. You wanted this, a chance to finally create something of your own, to build a life where you weren’t haunted by past disappointments.

And so, with a mix of nerves and hope, you closed your laptop, letting the enormity of this new chapter settle over you. Whatever happened, you were moving forward.

To: y/[email protected] From: [email protected] Hi Y/N, Congratulations. Welcome aboard the team. We’re so delighted to have you; your photographs are truly incredible and capture exactly what we are looking for. As you know, we have four photographers on the team, so we have split the England Women’s senior squad into four. Please see the list below for your players. For those who play outside of the WSL, please organise your own flights and accommodation but reimbursement will be made if you send in the receipts. The breakdown of the assignment is in the document attached. Y/N Tough – players: Leah Williamson Lotte Wubben-Moy Georgia Stanway Keira Walsh Alessia Russo Beth Mead Attachment: Y/N Tough – assignment brief Please do not hesitate if you have any questions. I look forward to working with you, Sincerely, Kim Wilson. Managing Social Media and Outreach Director

You couldn’t hold back a laugh when the list of names came through. It was obvious Leah had pulled some serious strings for you, probably calling in every favour she had. But as you read over the names, excitement bubbled up in your chest, mixing with a sense of wonder. For the first time in a long time, you felt genuinely seen. You never imagined you’d reach this point, where your work would be valued by people who actually wanted you around, people who recognised your talent and believed in you.

The realisation hit you hard. For so long, you’d been weighed down by the sting of constant rejection, a silent ache you had buried so deep that you hadn’t even noticed its impact. You’d convinced yourself it was normal, that maybe you simply weren’t meant to fit in or be accepted. But now, sitting here with your laptop open and this email in front of you, that old pain seemed to ease, just a little. It was like a tight knot in your chest had loosened, allowing space for something softer, something brighter.

This new opportunity felt like a fresh start – a chance not only to showcase your work but to belong, to carve out a place for yourself among people who truly valued you. The familiar ache, that constant reminder of past rejections, had softened, replaced by a tentative sense of pride. Maybe… maybe you were healing, after all?

You let yourself linger on the thought, the possibility of healing, of moving on from the scars of the past. It wasn’t the kind of thing that would happen overnight, but in this moment, it felt attainable. You were no longer defined by the shadows of what you lacked or the people who’d overlooked you. Instead, you were finally stepping into your own light.

"Leah," Beth groaned, laughing as she eyed a very stubborn Leah, who was perched childishly on top of the kitchen counter. Leah's face scrunched up in exaggerated distaste as Alessia held out a spoonful of pasta sauce, trying to coax her into tasting it. Smiling to yourself, you brought your camera up, snapping a quick shot before lowering it again.

You always preferred to work that way – keeping your camera tucked away, only bringing it out for a fleeting moment to capture something genuine. Over the years, you'd learned to stay in the background, a wallflower observing life from the sidelines. Being around people who were used to the spotlight, you knew that the moment they noticed a camera, they’d instinctively turn on that public persona. So, you’d made it a habit to hide your camera, only clicking when a moment truly called for it.

"I don’t understand why I have to have the sauce," Leah whined, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Because you need actual nutrition," Alessia laughed, shaking her head as she turned back to the stove. "And I’ll be damned if I let you eat plain pasta."

"I get plenty of nutrition, thank you very much," Leah huffed.

"Drinking protein smoothies doesn’t count, Le," Lotte chimed in, grinning as she joined in the teasing. She stuck her tongue out, and you captured another shot of their playful banter, the warmth and laughter filling the kitchen.

Leah slid off the counter, grumbling as she made her way over to you. "Y/NNNNNN," she whined, wrapping her arms around you. "They’re being mean."

"Sorry, Leah," you replied, leaning back into her embrace. A soft sigh escaped you, contentment washing over you as you soaked in the light-hearted moment.

"Can I take a photo?" Lotte asked, nodding towards the camera hanging around your neck.

"Uh…" You hesitated, the thought of being on the other side of the lens making you feel oddly vulnerable.

"It’s okay if you don’t want me to," Lotte quickly reassured, her tone gentle.

"No, no," you managed, giving her a smile. "How about a group one?" You nodded toward Leah and Beth, hoping that sharing the spotlight would take off some of the pressure.

"Lessi? Photo?" Beth called over, waving Alessia to join.

"Nope, the sauce is almost done, and I don’t want it to burn," Alessia replied, waving them off with a grin.

Before you knew it, Beth and Leah were squishing their faces against yours, grinning and laughing as Lotte snapped the photo. The moment was a blur of warmth and closeness, a reminder of how far you'd come. Here, in this kitchen filled with laughter and teasing, you finally felt like part of something real. And for once, being in front of the camera didn’t feel so daunting.

It continued like that – small, intimate moments, snapshots of laughter and friendship, as you found yourself surrounded by people you were slowly coming to think of as friends. Each frame you captured was filled with warmth, with faces you were beginning to trust, and with memories that made you smile. It was a strange, almost surreal feeling to be surrounded by footballers and not feel the familiar ache. In the past, every encounter with this world had been shadowed by Lucy – her dismissive comments, the way she’d turned people away from you without a second thought. Football had once been a painful reminder of rejection, but now, the hurt had started to fade.

"Are you sure you don’t mind?" you asked Leah one afternoon, your voice wavering with lingering hesitation. Her bright blue eyes met yours, steady and gentle.

"Not in the slightest," she replied with a reassuring smile.

It was the London Derby. Over the past few months, you’d become a regular at Arsenal matches, using each game as an opportunity to work on your Lionesses project, but also taking a few personal shots for yourself. You enjoyed these games now, finding inspiration and comfort in the sport, rather than pain.

Still, the idea of seeing Lucy lingered at the edges of your mind, a quiet fear you couldn’t quite shake. Even after nearly six months of silence, you knew you weren’t ready. You’d spent so much time and energy mending yourself, stitching up the wounds that had felt endless and raw. Piece by piece, you were rebuilding, learning to stand on your own without looking back. The thought of seeing her – even just catching a glimpse of her on the field – was too much. You feared it would unravel everything you’d worked so hard to mend, the fragile progress you’d made in healing yourself.

So, you stayed close to Leah and the others, grateful for their understanding, for the way they shielded you without asking too many questions. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe, not just from the world but from the pain of your own past. And as you lifted your camera to capture another candid moment, you realised you were finally starting to find peace – one frame at a time.

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7ndipity · 6 months ago

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Every Little Thing Pt.2

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You want to keep your relationship quiet for a lil bit following Yoongi’s confession, but subtlety is not quite his thing.(aka, bf Yoongi’s a lil bit of a clingy brat, but we love it). Part 1

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, swearing, reader is referred to as Yoongi’s girlfriend like once, not proofread

A/N: Finally a part 2! This has been sitting in my drafts for far too long, but I hope you guys like it!

Masterlist

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The first thing you became aware of as you woke was the distinct weight of another body pressing on your chest. Cracking your eyes open slowly, you were greeted by the sight of Yoongi half on top of you, sound asleep, small puffs of breath brushing warmly over your skin.

Flickers of the night before flash through your mind as you watch him sleep, a grin of disbelief spreading across your face.

Yoongi showing up at your door, his confession, the feeling of his lips on yours, it all felt like a dream, yet the proof of its reality was right in front of you, snoring lightly.

You stretched slowly, a task made doubly difficult by the fact that still on your couch, you and Yoongi having not made it further through the house before collapsing together.

You hadn’t done much more than kissing, due to Yoongi, god bless him(despite you wanting to strangle him in the moment), wanting to talk everything out and make sure that you were both on the same page about how you felt towards each other.

It had been nearly morning by the time you had fallen asleep, you didn’t know what time it was now, stretching to reach for you phone on the coffee table, causing a low whine to emit from the sleeping form on your chest, tired arms wrapping tightly around your waist to hold you down, preventing you from moving further.

“Don’t, ‘m comfy.” Yoongi grumbled.

“I’m just trying to check the time.” You chuckled.

“Time is a capitalistic social construct.” He groaned, rubbing his face against the material of your shirt. “It’s too early to be moving, that’s all you need to know.��

You laughed again, the vibrations in your chest finally drawing him into full consciousness.

He lifted his head enough to meet your eyes, propping his chin on your chest. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You grinned.

There’s something singularly unique about experiencing something for the first time, an exciting uncertainty like the pause just before the drop on a rollercoaster. That’s what it felt as you stared at Yoongi, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as he shifted enough to connect his mouth with yours.

You let out a contented sigh, parting your lips just enough for him to take advantage of, slipping his tongue inside with a fervor, his mouth hot and insistent against yours.

He let one hand drop to your waist, slipping beneath the thin fabric of your sleep top, the other settling at the base of your neck, anchoring you to him as he pressed your hips down into the cushions with his own.

By the time you came up for air, the atmosphere around the two of you had shifted considerably, any traces of your earlier drowsiness long gone.

You were fully underneath him now, his hands positioned on either side of your head, his eyes holding the same dark craving that they had last night, his mouth swollen and red from your continued assaults on it.

You reached up slowly, tucking a messy strand of hair behind his ear, taking in the way the midday light gave his skin a soft, golden hue. He was truly so beautiful.

His soft laughter brushed over your face like a morning breeze.

“What’s that look for?” He asked, taking in your dreamy expression.

“I-” Before you could form a proper response, the moment was shattered by the ping of your phone.

You sat up slowly, Yoongi managing shift so that he was still wrapped around you as you did so.

Glancing down at the screen, you tapped on a new message from Jimin.

What time should I pick you up tomorrow?

Tomorrow? With everything that had happened last night, you had almost forgotten that you had asked Jimin to help you go furniture shopping.

Sorry Chim, smth came up and I can’t go tomor-

“Why can’t you go?” Yoongi asked, peering at the screen over your shoulder.

You looked up at him quizzically. “I thought you didn’t like me going with him?”

“I didn’t like it because you were ignoring me, I don’t have any issues with you hanging out with Jimin.” He shrugged. “I’ll even go with you.”

You blinked at him. “What, as like a couple?”

“Maybe, is that too soon?” He tilted his head at you.

“I don’t know...” You bit your lip. So much had changed in the past twelve hours. Last night, you were afraid that you were losing one of your best friends, now he was more or less asking you on a date? Did this even count as a date? You weren’t sure. What about Jimin? Would this make him feel uncomfortable? The three of you had hung out together before, but now-

“We don’t have to say anything yet if you don’t want to.” He offered, as if sensing your spiraling train of thought. “I’ll just tag along in case you guys need help with anything. Plus, my car has more room.”

His words helped calm your mind. You nodded. “Okay.”

He grinned, leaning in to press kisses to your face as you tried to type out a quick reply to Jimin.

Slight change of plans-

“So you guys are done fighting?” Jimin asked as he climbed into the back seat the next day.

“We weren’t fighting.” You replied, shooting him a look.

“Sure seemed like it.” He muttered under his breath.

“We weren’t fighting-”

“But if we were, we’re done now.” Yoongi said, shooting you a smirk.

You slumped back in your seat with an annoyed huff.

“Yeah, okay.” Jimin snickered. “So what are we looking for today, Y/n?”

The drive passed rather comfortably, Yoongi leaving you and Jimin to do majority of the talking for the most part, smiling to himself as the two of you argued over differences in interior design preferences and color palettes.

Things felt pretty much back to normal, until he noticed you shiver slightly out the corner of his eye as he was parking.

”Are you cold?” He asked, glancing over at you with a frown.

“I just forgot my jacket, it’s fine.” You said dismissively, getting out of the car, but Yoongi was having none of it.

“Nope.” He quickly rounded the car to you, shrugging off his jacket and holding it out for you to put on. “Here.”

“I’m fine.” You argued.

“I don’t want you to be cold, put it on.” He insisted.

“But what about you?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it, just put the jacket on.”

“Yoongi-”

“Please?” His eyes softened as he looked at you, making your stomach do a tiny somersault.

Damn him, he knew exactly what he was doing, that was the same look he gave you whenever he wanted his way, the same look he’d given you to keep you cuddled up with him till almost 3 in the afternoon the day before.

“Fine.” You sighed, slipping your arms into the sleeves, letting the slightly oversized article envelope you.

You turned back to face him. “Happy?”

“Yes.” He said with another pointed smirk.

Jimin, who stood behind the two of you, watching the whole bizarre exchange with a baffled expression, cleared his throat.

“Soo, are we ready to go?” He asked, pulling you both back to attention.

When Yoongi had said you didn’t have to say anything about your relationship yet, you had thought that also meant that Yoongi was going to act the same as he normally did.

You soon found out that that wasn’t the case.

He wasn’t overly obvious about wanting to be closer to you than usual, but he wasn’t exactly subtle about it either. Brushing your hair out your face for you, grabbing your wrist to draw your attention to certain items and then “forgetting” to let go, and generally just sticking to your side as much as possible.

It wasn’t like he was trying to make you uncomfortable or anything, but after the past week of you ignoring him, he wanted to tease you just a little bit. He knew how easily flustered you were, and was taking a great deal of enjoyment out of trying to raise the color in your cheeks.

While you were mainly choosing to ignore his ‘odd’ behavior, Jimin was absolutely stunned.

“Okay, what the fuck is up with you and Y/n?!” He hissed as soon as you were out of earshot.

“Don’t worry about it” Yoongi said simply, finding the lamp display in front of them much more interesting.

“Don’t worry abou-?!” Jimin stared at him in disbelief, wanting to press further, but seeing you approaching, he let it drop for the moment.

The way Yoongi’s expression brightened as you rejoined the group however, told Jimin far more than he knew his hyung ever would.

It wasn’t until later that evening as you were helping him unload a few things he picked out that he spoke about it again.

“So, when you and Yoongi get married, can I be your best man?” He asked, only half teasing.

“Goodnight, Jimin.” You said, ignoring his question.

“G’night.” He grinned, hugging you.

“I’m really happy for you.” He mumbled into your shoulder, causing your eyes to prick with tears as the sudden wave of emotions hit you.

“Thank you, Chim.” You whispered, squeezing him tighter.

When you finally separated, you could see his eyes were shining similarly to your own.

“If he ever hurts you, I’m gonna kick his ass, just so you know.” He cautioned.

You let out a wet laugh.

“Good to know.” You nodded. “Night, Chim.”

“Goodnight.”

When you got back to the car, Yoongi was smiling knowingly at you.

“Did you have a nice time today?” He asked pleasantly.

“Mhm, my boyfriend was being kinda weird though.” You said, settling into the passenger seat. “Kinda clingy.”

“Maybe that’s just because you’re not familiar with boyfriend Yoongi.” He said. “We’ll have to give you a crash course on it.”

“I look forward to it.” You said with a grin. “So then, what does boyfriend Yoongi do when his girlfriend is tired and hungry?”

“Typically, buys her favorite dinner and makes her go to bed at a reasonable hour.”

“Sounds good, except for that last part.” You replied, stifling a yawn.

“Would it sound better if I told you that it also includes said boyfriend staying over and cuddling?” He offered.

“Yes, it would.” You grinned.

“Then it’s settled.” He started the car.

“Jimin said he’ll kick your ass if you ever hurt me, by the way.”

“I don’t plan on ever giving him a reason to do that.” He replied, resting a hand on your thigh as he drove, making you smile.

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#yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi scenarios #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts requests #bts scenarios #bts reaction #bts reactions #bts drabble #bts fluff #7ndipity

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amirasainz · 6 months ago

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I feel like the grid would be so happy to see Amira in the Met Gala like in thr fic that you wrote... And then Carlos would see her with Lewis and go: HEY WHY DID HE GET AN INVITE AND I DIDNT?? ALSO WHY IS HE TOUCHING MY BABY SISTER

Cue Carlos throwing hands and trying to convince Max to lend him his plane so he can go chase after a knight for being near his sister 😂

I love writing about the Met Gala. Enjoy reading and send me some requests. -XoXo

The After Party

The Met Gala and its glamorous allure had captivated the racing grid. Lewis Hamilton’s presence was no secret; they watched him on the screen, cheering and eagerly awaiting Amira’s grand entrance.

But the unsuspecting twist came during the After-Party. The anticipation to see Amira in her stunning new dress was palpable. And when they noticed her surrounded by girls, Kim and Lana, their happiness soared. Amira’s animated conversation with her friends seemed like a dream unfolding before their eyes.

Then reality shattered that dream. Lewis Hamilton, the unexpected intruder, covered her eyes. The shock wasn’t just that he was there; it was the genuine happiness on Amira’s face. But the worst part? His possessive arm remained around her waist. The. Whole. Damn. Time.

Oscar muttered, “No. No fucking way.” George stumbled over his words, unable to form a coherent sentence. Max, in his stunned state, accidentally dropped his phone.

Carlos, protective brother mode activated, shook poor Charles. “That stupid man! First, he takes MY seat. Now he wants to take my sister. What’s next, my liver? Where’s my invitation? Did you eat it?” His frustration knew no bounds.

Charles stood up, resolute. “Not with me, mate.” Daniel attempted to mediate. “Hey, Carlos, let’s calm down a bit.”

But Carlos wouldn’t be placated. “No! I won’t calm down. This man has the audacity to hold my sister. MAx, give me your plane, You don't need —DID HE JUST KISS HER CHEEK?!" "Quick! Grab him!” Pierre’s command set off a frenzy. Six drivers piled on top of Ferrari’s Carlos Sainz, determined to protect their own.

Carlos’s final declaration echoed through the room: “NO, YOU CAN’T PROTECT HIM FOREVER! I WILL SEE HIM IN IMOLA!”

And so, for the next 30 minutes, the room buzzed with attempts to calm Carlos’s fiery rage.

**********************************************

Bonus (+)

“Oh, look at her. It seems our pretty girl fell asleep,” Lana gently informed Lewis. Throughout the night, he had subtly shifted her chair closer and closer to him until, finally, she succumbed to slumber in his arms.

Kim, ever considerate, asked, “Should we help you get her to the car?” Lewis’s gentle response came, “It would be very sweet if you could help me get her to her hotel room.”

And so it happened—the iconic picture of Lewis Hamilton carrying a sleeping Amira Sainz, flanked by Lana Del Rey and Kim Kardashian, became an internet sensation.

#formula 1 #baby!sainz!sister #lando norris x reader #carlos sainz x sister!reader #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russell x reader #pierre gasly x reader #met gala #kim kardashian x reader #lana del ray x reader #after party

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user211201 · 2 months ago

Text

Listen Up: Swimmer

--- Originally posted on 2021-04-21 by newyoutf ---

Jon twisted back and forth under the showerhead, singing along to the music blasting from his phone on the counter.

The music lowered in volume for a second, making way for two loud dings. Jon reached out from the stream of water and fumbled with the screen in his wet hands. It was a message from Oliver, his best friend, “Hey bro, got something you should listen to.”

“Bro?” Jon wondered. Since when did Oliver say “bro”? Jon blinked, struggling to think for a moment. Oliver talked like that all the time, he was American after all... wasn’t he?

Attached to the message was an audio file. Jon figured it must have been a new song by one of the pair’s favorite pop divas, perhaps a new leaked track. Jon hit the play button, placed the phone back down, and returned to the hot water.

A harsh static buzz and what sounded like garbled speech boomed from the phone, taking Jon by surprise. The corrupted audio cleared up after a moment and a deep, male voice started.

“Welcome. This audio program is custom designed. Just for you. Ensure you are in a comfortable, private place. You will not want to be disturbed.”

“Oliver,” Jon rolled his eyes, thinking that surely something starting this ridiculous would be some sort of joke or meme. After all, Oliver had always been a dumb joker. “Wait,” Jon felt confused, he could have sworn Oliver was a quiet, twinky lad like himself?

Jon realized couldn’t form a solid impression of his friend in his mind. They met at their university in London and became best friends, bonding over their mutual love of pop music and ogling the campus jocks. But now it was like that reality had been shattered. Those memories gave way for ones of meeting each other at the campus gym shortly after Oliver arrived from the US. Oliver was his best, hot, American friend, right? Jon’s cock twitched at the new image of his friend as he placed his face under the stream of hot water in an attempt to clear his head.

“Relax. Take a deep breath, in and out.”

Jon unwittingly followed the instructions. The frown fell from his face and his body relaxed, taking in the warmth of the water.

“You’re Oliver's best friend. Makes sense, given you’re a total alpha too.”

“Both wha- ah! Ah!”, Jon planted his hands against the wet, tiled wall as the words sent pleasure rippling through his body. He looked down feeling a strong warmth against his leg but it wasn’t the hot water. His semi-hard cock had blasted a rope of cum against his leg. “What the fuck?” Jon mumbled.

“What a coincidence that you’re both six-foot-four. It serves him well in the gym, the same way it serves you well in the water.”

Jon howled in ecstasy, spluttering and moaning, as his five-foot-nine body stretched higher. His soft cock drooled hot cum as it rapidly began to rise. His arms pushed against the wall, lengthening for better performance in the pool. He stepped backward as his head struck the showerhead and rose even higher. Hot water poured down the front of his much longer torso and legs.

“Your shoulders are so broad. Typical of you swimming jocks.”

Unable to resist the command, Jon's shoulders crunched and throbbed, thrusting out larger and bulging with muscle. “God! W- What the fuck i- is... ugh... happening?!” he roared, terrified not just by the growth gripping his body, but the incredible pleasure it wrought on him.

“Those are some long, meaty fucking arms, Jon.”

“F- fuck!” Jon roared, spraying a massive load up the back of the shower feeling his narrow arms explode with thick mounds of muscle, rippling across his biceps and triceps. The growth spread down his arms, his forearms bloating with tight, lean muscle. His wrists cracked as they thickened.

“Hands that big must be useful for pushing through the water.”

Stifled screams rumbled from Jon’s tightly clenched mouth. His hands were pressed against the back of the shower, clicking and twitching as they began to swell across the tiles. The fingers accelerated longer and longer. His palms spread monstrously broad. He flexed his hands, in total awe of their disproportionate size; perfect for pushing through the water.

The experience was like nothing Jon ever felt. A sexual eruption taking place across every cell as the words rewrote his body. “Can’t... resist... so g- good,” Jon grunted, gasping for air.

“You clearly work out for the aesthetics as well, not just the pool. Your shredded chest is proof of that.”

Jon couldn’t even attempt to fight anymore, but nor did he want to. His chest puffed and bulged, distorting the path of the water running across it. The previously non-existent pecs pushed outward from his widening chest. His cock trembled as the changes took hold in his abdomen, causing his flat stomach to erupt with tight, thick abs. Jon gripped his ass, feeling it swell into his huge hands while he erupted cum across the tiles once more.

*“That’s the spirit, Jon. You’re a *stud.”

Jon felt those words echo in his ears and rumble down his throat. Grunts and pants became deeper and deeper as his thickened and voice morphed. His head groaned as it enlarged to fit his frame. Hair began to flourish out of his cheeks and across his upper lip while the mop of medium-length hair on his head retreated, leaving a short, handsome cut in its place. He stroked his cock with one hand and clasped his face with the other feeling his jawline refine and the angles of his face sharpen. He turned to the mirror cabinet, seeing just a sliver of his improved visage. Jon gasped at the sight and immediately ejected another load of cum.

He didn’t just look like a swole swimming jock. He felt like one too. He rejoiced in his mind being filled with thoughts of the pool, weightlifting, spotting his bros at the gym, and fucking them afterward.

“Good to see the bottom half matches the top.”

Jon’s legs trembled. He clutched the slippery tiles harder to hold himself up, the pleasure reverberating through his legs almost too much to bear. Muscles spasmed in his calves, swelling with every little twitch. Muscle wasn’t all that was gracing his legs. Dark hair grew forth from the skin, coating his powerful legs in a layer of fur. Jon swore under his breath, impressed by the hair spreading up and down his legs. He thought about how he refused to shave like other swimmers, he liked the hair, and regardless his superior form needed no extra boost. His body responded to the suggestion, triggering a fine layer of hair to sprout from his forearms, between his pecs, in a trail over his abs and across the tops of his feet.

Memories of the pool, the beach, and victories across university swimming tournaments swarmed his brain. Trophies and medals materialized in the bedroom just next to where he was showering.

“Damn, it’s no surprise you outperform everyone in the water with feet that massive. And you know what they say about that, Jon.”

Every one of the toes on Jon’s size eight feet surged with pleasure. He moaned loudly as they began to push across the floor of the shower while his soles stretched to catch up. He recalled new memories of having large feet, how they propelled him to victory in the pool, and the comments people would make: “Bigfoot”, “You know what they say...”, “Where can you even buy size sixteens?”

“Sixteen?!” he repeated in his mind. The brief shock turned to anticipation as he felt his soles continue to march forward longer and wider, his toes twitching while they reshaped long and meaty. Jon growled aloud as he expelled another load, “God, yeah... so f- fucking... big.”

The jock trembled under the stream of hot water, desperate for sexual release. He looked down as the expanding feet settled into excessively large size sixteens, curling his long toes as his six-inch cock began to quiver in its desperation to grow larger as well. It felt as though it were perpetually hardening, only to then push longer and girthier instead. Jon grasped his wet cock and thrust into his grip hard and repeatedly. He relished in the sensation of the veins bulging and the shaft thickening.

*“I guess what they say really is true, isn’t *it?”

The audio toyed with him, pushing his cock just that little bit longer and pumping it ever so slightly thicker. It pulsed and twitched, gradually and slowly with every breath. His uncut, British foreskin slid further backward, as a larger, blunter head swelled outward. Jon smirked as he groaned and growled, stroking faster and faster, enthralled by the beautiful nine-inch weapon he now possessed.

“Cum.”

“Oh yeah! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jon made three final long, hard tugs on his thick pole before roaring in delight as unspeakable ecstasy filled him. Cum rocketed upward against the water rushing from the showerhead, ejecting what remained of Jon’s old genetic material while orgasm after orgasm pounded his body.

Exhausted and dripping wet, he stepped slowly out of the tub, unsteady on his new legs and feet.

*“Remember to share this recording with your friends*.”

And with that, the playback stopped. Jon looked at himself in the mirror, still shocked, but enraptured with his new body and looks. He grabbed his phone and wiped the water from the screen, struggling to unlock it with his longer fingers. He typed out a reply to Oliver, “That shit was fucking lit mate!”

A few miles away, a sweaty Oliver was busy lifting weights, waiting for his friend to give him some indication that something had happened. He had to place the weight down slowly as his mind blurred for a moment. He saw the images and memories that he had of his friend change and shift. Gone were the images of a quiet little twink, replaced by those of a loud, masculine swimming jock. Oliver smiled cockily realizing what had just happened. Then, as if on cue, his phone vibrated with Jon’s reply. Following was a photo of a huge, semi-hard cock swinging above two gargantuan feet. Oliver felt his own cock stiffen slightly at the image.

“Hell yeah, bro! You should be selling these pics like I do,” Oliver sent in response, getting a deep chuckle out of Jon.

Both men now looked at their phones, horny and pondering who next to share the mysterious audio file with.

#male tf #male transformation #muscle grwoth #jock tf #swimmer tf #sport tf #cock growth #americanization #foot growth #listen up series

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imloyaltoscoups · 6 months ago

Text

unforgettable memories | yoon jeonghan

As you storm out of Jeonghan's apartment, your heart feels like it's been shattered into a million pieces. Each step you take feels heavy, weighed down by the burden of your emotions. Tears stream down your cheeks uncontrollably, blurring your vision as you try to navigate through the streets.

The memories flood your mind - the laughter, the shared moments, the promises made. But now, it all feels like a cruel joke, a facade that's come crashing down around you. You trusted Jeonghan with your heart, believing that your love was enough to weather any storm. But now, it feels like you've been betrayed, like everything you thought was real was just an illusion.

You try to wipe away the tears, but they keep coming, a relentless reminder of the pain inside you. You want to scream, to let out all the frustration and hurt that's consuming you from within.

But instead, you keep walking, putting one foot in front of the other, trying to escape the pain, even though you know it will follow you wherever you go. And as you disappear into the night, the tears continue to fall, a silent testament to the love you once had, now lost amidst the ruins of a broken relationship.

As you find yourself walking aimlessly, each step a subconscious movement as your mind reels with questions and doubts. The morning sun begins to cast its warm light upon the city, and you stumble upon a small cafe. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee beckons you inside, offering a brief respite from the turmoil within.

You take a seat, hoping that a cup of coffee might provide some solace amidst the chaos of your emotions. As you sip the steaming brew, your thoughts drift to the why's and what-if's of the relationship. Was it something you did wrong? Were you lacking in some way? The self-doubt creeps in, gnawing at the edges of your consciousness.

Lost in your thoughts, you're suddenly jolted back to reality by the persistent ringing of your phone. With a sigh, you glance at the caller ID, recognizing the number instantly. Without hesitation, you block it, a small act of defiance amidst the overwhelming sense of vulnerability.

For a moment, there's a fleeting sense of relief, a brief respite from the build up emotions. But deep down, you know that blocking the number won't erase the pain. So you take another sip of your coffee, hoping that with each swallow, the bitterness of the brew might somehow numb the ache inside.

Your phone continues to demand attention, this time with Seokmin's name flashing on the screen. Despite the uncertainty in your heart, you know Seokmin's call isn't unexpected. After all, you're close with the other members, and he's likely just checking in out of genuine concern.

As you ignore the call, a text message pops up from him, a simple inquiry about how you're doing. It's a reminder that amidst the chaos of your own emotions, there are still people who care about you, who want to see you smile again.

With a deep breath, you compose yourself and begin to type out a reply, masking the pain behind a facade of normalcy. You tell Seokmin that you're doing okay, that it's just been a rough day. You don't mention Jeonghan or the disturbance that's been consuming you. Instead, you focus on the trivial details, hoping to divert attention away from the painful memories you were consumed to.

With each passing day in Seoul, you've made a conscious effort to immerse yourself in the experience, determined not to let the weight of your emotions overshadow the beauty of the city. You've explored its vibrant streets, sampled its culinary delights, and went to the places you wished to visit together with Jeonghan.

As the fourth day draws to a close, you find yourself reflecting on the moments of joy and wonder you've experienced during your time alone here. Despite the lingering ache in your heart, there's a sense of empowerment in knowing that you can find happiness even in the midst of pain.

As you make your way back to the hotel, exhaustion begins to settle in. You finally arrive at your hotel room, you let out a sigh of relief, grateful for the sanctuary it provides amidst the chaos of the outside world. And as you settle into bed, a notification pops up on your phone, a message from Seungkwan inviting you to the celebration, you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you. On one hand, you're genuinely happy for the boys and their success with the new album. They've worked hard, and you know they deserve to celebrate this milestone.

But on the other hand, the thought of facing them, of pretending that everything is okay when it's not, fills you with apprehension. You know that they had no part in Jeonghan's actions, and they're innocent bystanders in the fallout of your relationship. They've always been supportive friends, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface.

As you contemplate whether to attend the celebration or not, you weigh the pros and cons. On one hand, it could be a chance to temporarily escape the heaviness of your emotions, to immerse yourself in the joy of the moment. But on the other hand, it could also be a reminder of everything you've lost, a painful contrast to the happiness you once shared with your former lover.

In the end, you decide to attend, knowing that isolating yourself won't heal the wounds in your heart. After all, you refuse to let Jeonghan's betrayal rob you of your friendships and the joy of celebrating the boys' success. And since today is your last day at the country, you thought meeting with your friends before you go is the perfect way to end this trip.

As you arrive at the venue where the celebration will be held, you feel a surge of nerves coursing through you. Before stepping inside, you decide to give Seungkwan a quick call to let him know you've arrived.

"Kwannie, it's me," you say, trying to sound casual despite the the feeling in your chest.

"Y/N! Are you here now," Seungkwan responds cheerfully. "We're all excited to see you. Oh, and by the way, Hannie said he'll come to pick you up. He's on his way."

Your heart sinks at the mention of Jeonghan's name. You hesitate for a moment, wanting to protest or come up with an excuse, but the words stick in your throat.

"Oh, okay," you finally manage to say, masking your discomfort with a forced smile.

"Great! See you in a bit then," Seungkwan says before hanging up.

As you end the call, a sense of dread settles over you. You know you should have spoken up, should have told him the truth about your breakup with Jeonghan. But the fear of confrontation and the pain of admitting the reality of the situation hold you back.

With a heavy heart, you resign yourself to the inevitable encounter with your ex, knowing that facing him will only reopen wounds that have yet to heal.

As you scan the room, your heart clenches when you spot Jeonghan making his way towards you, a warm smile playing on his lips. Despite the pain and betrayal you feel, a part of you still longs for the familiarity of his embrace.

But as he draws closer, his arms outstretched in invitation for a hug, you feel a surge of anger and indignation rising within you. How dare he act as though everything is normal after what he's done?

You step back, halting his advancement, and the smile on his face falters for a moment, replaced by a look of confusion and concern.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, his voice laced with genuine concern.

You feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, and for a moment, you're tempted to spill everything, to unleash the torrent of emotions that have been simmering beneath the surface. But you clamp down on the impulse, steeling yourself against the vulnerability of exposing your heart to him once again.

"The audacity you have..." you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words hang heavy in the air between you.

Jeonghan's expression softens, his eyes searching yours for answers that you're not ready to give.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. "Can we talk?"

But you shake your head, your resolve hardening with each passing moment.

"Not now," you reply, your voice firm despite the tremor in your heart. "I'm not ready."

And with that, you turn away, leaving Jeonghan standing there, his outstretched arms falling to his sides, a silent testimony to the chasm that now lies between you.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you make your way over to where Seokmin, Seungkwan, and Hoshi are gathered, chatting and enjoying their drinks.

"Hey, guys," you say, mustering a smile despite the chaos of emotions swirling inside you.

"Hey, there you are!" Seokmin exclaims, his face lighting up as he spots you. "Welcome back!"

"Yeah, we were wondering when you'd show up," Hoshi chimes in with a playful grin.

Seungkwan nods in agreement, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "We missed you!"

You return their smiles, pushing aside the pain for the moment as you focus on celebrating their success.

"Congratulations on the album launch!" you say, genuine warmth seeping into your voice. "You guys did an amazing job. I'm so proud of you."

Seokmin beams at your words, his eyes shining with gratitude. "Thanks! We really appreciate it. We couldn't have done it without the support of our fans and friends like you."

As the conversation flows and laughter fills the air, Seungkwan suggests, "Hey, why don't we go find the others? They'd be thrilled to see you here."

You hesitate for a moment, the thought of facing the rest of the members stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within you. But you know that avoiding them won't make things any easier, and deep down, you long for the comfort of their familiar presence.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," you reply, mustering a smile despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach.

Seungkwan grins, his enthusiasm infectious. "Great! They're over at that corner table near the stage. Let's go, I'll show you the way."

You follow Seungkwan's lead as he guides you through the bustling crowd, weaving between clusters of people until you reach the designated area where the rest of the members are gathered.

As you approach the table, you're met with a chorus of greetings and smiles from the familiar faces of Joshua, Mingyu, and Wonwoo.

"Y/N! Nice to see you again!," Joshua says, his warm smile putting you at ease.

Mingyu nudges Wonwoo, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Told you Y/N wouldn't miss out on all the fun!"

Wonwoo chuckles, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess you were right."

As the conversation flows smoothly among the group, Joshua's question catches you completely off guard. You feel a momentary panic rise within you, unsure of how to navigate the delicate balance between honesty and protecting your heart.

Joshua's gaze is gentle, his concern evident as he waits for your response. You swallow hard, searching for the right words to convey the truth without revealing too much.

"We're... uh, doing okay," you finally manage to say, forcing a small smile despite the discomfort gnawing at your insides.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, sensing the hesitation in your voice. "Just okay?"

You glance at Seungkwan, silently pleading for support, but he only offers a sympathetic smile in return.

"Yeah, you know how it is," you reply, deflecting the question with a casual shrug. "Just taking things one day at a time."

The others nod in understanding, their expressions a mixture of sympathy and concern. You feel a pang of guilt for not being more honest with them, but the fear of exposing your vulnerability keeps you from saying more.

Thankfully, the conversation quickly shifts to lighter topics, and you breathe a silent sigh of relief, grateful for the distraction.

You glance down at your nearly empty glass, using it as an excuse to momentarily escape the intensity of the conversation. Clearing your throat, you offer a small smile to the group.

"Sorry, I'll be right back. Just need to grab another drink," you say, your voice light and casual, though your heart still feels heavy with unspoken emotions.

Seungkwan nods understandingly. "Sure thing, take your time. We'll be right here."

With a murmured word of thanks, you slip away from the table, grateful for the brief respite from the weight of the conversation. As you make your way to the bar, you can't help but feel a sense of relief at the opportunity to gather your thoughts and compose yourself.

At the bar, you signal to the bartender for another drink, grateful for the chance to momentarily drown out the chaos of your emotions with the clinking of glasses and the buzz of conversation around you.

As you wait for your drink, you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the inevitable return to the group.

Your heart skips a beat as you hear Mingyu's voice shouting across the room, the sudden tension pulling you back into the present moment. You quicken your pace, anxiety gnawing at your insides as you approach the table.

As you arrive, Mingyu's eyes lock onto yours, a knowing look in his gaze that sends a shiver down your spine. "She knows," he says again, his voice laced with a mixture of surprise and concern.

You furrow your brow, confusion clouding your thoughts as you try to make sense of his words. "Knows what?" you ask, your voice tinged with apprehension.

Before anyone can respond to your question, another voice, one that is hauntingly familiar, echoes in your ears. You turn around, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and dread, and your eyes widen in shock as you see her standing there, conversing with Seungcheol and Dino.

Your mind races as you try to comprehend the sight before you. It feels like a cruel twist of fate, a moment you never could have imagined in your wildest dreams. And yet, there she is, a ghost from your past, standing mere feet away from you.

As you turn back to face your friends, a lump forms in your throat, making it difficult to speak. You gulp down the rising tide of emotion, mustering the courage to confront them with the question that weighs heavily on your heart.

"Are you guys aware of this?" you manage to choke out, your voice trembling with a mixture of hurt and betrayal.

Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Hoshi exchange uneasy glances, their expressions clouded with guilt and remorse. Seungkwan steps forward, his voice barely above a whisper. "We… we're sorry, Y/N. We didn't know what to do. We thought… we thought it was best to stay out of it."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling with disbelief. Since when? Since when had they known about Jeonghan's cheating, about the betrayal that had been lurking in the shadows all this time? And why had they chosen to keep it from you, to shield you from the truth at the cost of your own pain?

Tears began to blur your vision as you struggle to make sense of it all. "Since when?" you repeat, your voice cracking with emotion.

Joshua hangs his head, unable to meet your gaze. "For a while now," he admits, his voice thick with regret. "We didn't want to hurt you, Y/N. We were just trying to protect you."

But their words offer little comfort as the realization sinks in - that they had known about Jeonghan's betrayal all along, and yet they had chosen to keep it from you, to spare you the pain of facing the truth.

Your words come out sharper than intended, laced with bitterness and resentment as you struggle to process the magnitude of the betrayal. You clear your throat, trying to steady your voice as you address your friends.

"Well, of course you guys would hide it," you say, your tone tinged with sarcasm. "After all, Hannie has been with you guys since your teens, right? Three years of friendship with me couldn't possibly compare."

The words hang heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the imbalance in your relationship with Jeonghan and your friends. You feel a surge of anger rising within you, fueled by the realization that they had chosen loyalty to him over honesty with you.

But beneath the anger lies a deeper hurt, a sense of betrayal that cuts to the core of your being. You had thought they were your friends, your confidants, the ones you could rely on no matter what. And yet, they had chosen to keep such a significant secret from you, robbing you of the chance to confront the truth and reclaim control over your own life.

"Well, thank you for inviting me here," you say, the words dripping with sarcasm. "At least I have a reason to never come back here again. Thank you for making my stay here memorable, again congratulations with the album."

With that, you place your drink down on the table, the clink of glass against wood echoing in the tense silence that hangs between you and your friends. You straighten your posture, steeling yourself against the waves of emotion threatening to overwhelm you.

As you turn to leave, you can feel their eyes on you, filled with regret and remorse. But the damage has been done, the trust irreparably shattered. You refuse to look back, unwilling to subject yourself to any further pain or betrayal.

As you begin to walk away, a hand grabs your arm, pulling you back with a force that startles you. You turn around to see Jeonghan, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. His eyes plead with you, a desperate plea for one last chance to explain.

"Please," he gasps, his voice raw with emotion. "Can we talk for the last time?"

Your anger boils over at his audacity, at the nerve he has to ask for your time after what he's done. Without thinking, you raise your hand and slap him across the face, the sound echoing in the empty space between you.

"How dare you?" you seethe, your voice trembling with rage. "You know what you did. You know where I come from, what my family has been through. You promised me you would never do this, that you would never cheat on me."

Tears blur your vision as you confront him, the pain of his betrayal cutting deep into your soul. The weight of your broken trust hangs heavily in the air, a silent accusation against the man who promised to love and cherish you, but ultimately chose to betray you in the worst possible way.

Jeonghan recoils from your slap, his hand coming up to touch his stinging cheek. His eyes are filled with regret and remorse, but it's too little, too late.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the roar of your anger. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Tears stream down your cheeks as you confront Jeonghan with the depth of your pain and betrayal. Anguish and resentment surge within you, fueling the torrent of words that spill from your lips like a flood.

"And the fact that the other members know about this, not just recently, but from the start!" you exclaim, your voice trembling with emotion. "You should have asked to break up, Jeonghan. You should have been honest if you were getting tired of me cause of this LDR. You make me question if what we have is really real, if you really do love me."

Your hand instinctively clenches into a fist, and you hit his chest, the force of your blow fueled by days of pent-up frustration and disappointment. Jeonghan winces at the impact, but his eyes remain fixed on yours, filled with a mixture of regret and longing.

"I do love you," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. "I still do."

But his words ring hollow in your ears, drowned out by the echoes of his betrayal. You shake your head, unable to bear the weight of his empty promises any longer.

"If you really love me," you continue, your voice trembling with emotion, "you would never even entertain the thought of cheating. You would have respected me enough to be honest, to communicate, to work through our problems together."

"I can't do this anymore," you say, your voice filled with resignation. "I deserve better than this."

And as you turn away, the echoes of your words lingering in the air, you can't help but wonder if you'll ever be able to trust again, if you'll ever be able to love again, after the wounds Jeonghan and your "friends" has inflicted upon your heart.

part 1 , part 3

....... ≿━━━━༺JEONGHAN༻━━━━≾ .......

#seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x you #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan angst #yoon jeonghan x you #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan angst #svt angst #seventeen angst

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mermaidfanficlibrary · 3 months ago

Note

hiii i loved your cute yan bsf is there a part two? i am so obsessed 🫶🫶

Cutey for you! PT. 2 | Yan Cute boy best friend x you

Characters: Jesse

Summary: Your cute best friend just adores you with all his heart. To the point it brings him to tears

Warnings: Yandere themes, possessiveness, violence, mention of self harm, angst

a/n: I can make a part 2! I've been planning this for a while but I wanted people to want it, yk? Also this will be very self projected. Bone is mentioned!

Pt. 1

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Jesse couldn't understand it. Why couldn't you just stay with him? Why did you have to befriend that delinquent of all people! He's tried so hard to show you how he isn't worth your time or attention. Your best friend is! He's supposed to be your number one! You know that… And yet you chose to be with that stupid idiot!

Jesse can't take this! He can't be without you. His heart aches. He needs you so much. More than that delinquent that's taking you from him! There's more than just jealousy within his heart. There's more than rejection. There's so much more, and he has no one to tell because his best friend is with his rival! The person that is ruining his life!

He's scrolling through his phone, reading messages you had sent. He's deliberately ignoring you. He can't take it, and you need to know he's suffering. It's not like he can tell you, but that's not his fault! You should just know that when he's without you, he's suffering. Not only that but he's afraid. Afraid the moment he reaches out, you'll have moved on. Afraid that you'll reject him every time he wants to talk to you.

Laying in the dark, he's moved on to looking at photos of you. Some he took with you, some he took of you, and some were secret snapshots but let's not talk about those. He's fighting tears. Fighting them and losing. Misty eyed as he finds a video of you laughing with him and being silly with each other. He can't take this!

He checks his notification seeing you posted a new video on your social media. It's just like the video he saw with him and you, but this time it's with that delinquent. Jesse's whole world is tumbling down. Now he's stalking your account and that dumb delinquent's, finding every single post you are in together while tears stream down his cheeks.

He makes no sounds. No sobs. Only shuddered breaths and shaky shoulders. Throwing his phone across the room and cracking his screen, his mind becomes a dark place. One of nightmares that he has tried so hard to keep locked away from you. All his insecurities, fears, and intrusive thoughts swirl. Hyperventilating. Panic. Nothing is making sense.

He grabs a plushie of his. One you gave to him. One that reminds him of you. The scent of you is still on it. It soothes him barely, but the panic attack has settled. A single thought screams within his mind.

“You're being replaced.”

“You're not their favorite anymore.”

His brain is lying to him. It must be! You wouldn't just replace him. You've known him for years! You're his best friend and he's yours. Nothing can just shatter a bond like that.

“Shut up.... you don't know! They love me... I'm still they're favorite!”

Jesse whispers to himself. To the thoughts. A sound barely brings him back to his reality.

Your ringtone.

His favorite song now sounding sour. He doesn't want to take your calls. He doesn't care if you're panicking. He's suffering! He's sobbing into the plushie and holding it for dear life. He can't care for anything other than the irrational worries.

A part of him wishes you would break into his room and hold him, another part loathing the idea of you seeing him like this. It's so close. The blades are so close. He's surrounded by them. He can't help but think about it. He can't help but think about hurting himself. Would you notice how much pain he's in then?

Before Jesse can even think about reaching for any sharp object in his room, the darkness is shrouded in the light of an open door. You. The light surrounding you like an angel.

His body stiffens. Your warmth. It felt like a distant memory. When has he been held like this by you? Do you hug your new friend like this? No. That thought doesn't matter right now.

Only you matter. His crying quiets down. His body melts against yours. No words needed to be exchanged. All that was needed was your arms around his and your touch on his skin. In a matter of minutes he's calmed down.

Snores replaced the tears. Jesse fell asleep against you. Something he used to do when the two of you were kids. He's never going to miss this. You're his best friend. He loves you so much. And right now, all the nightmares were replaced with sweet dreams of the two of you together.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

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perfectsunlight · 3 months ago

Text

[20] I CAN DO IT WITH A BROKEN HEART

warnings: mentions of abortion, malicious statements, mental breakdown

SBS GAYO DAEJUN, 2018

jennie dabbed her eyes, doing her best to not ruin her stage makeup. her chest felt tight, the screen displaying the most recent message from the father of her daughter. the air in the small bathroom stall felt almost suffocating as she stared at the words that had shattered her world just moments before.

the message played on a loop in her mind, the words searing into her memory like a brand. her hands trembled as she read it again, as if hoping that the letters might rearrange themselves into something less devastating. but they didn't.

the reality was unchangeable—he wanted to come back. but jennie refused to let that happen.

the idol’s breath hitched as she fought to hold back another wave of tears. she couldn't let herself fall apart, not now, not when she was moments away from stepping on stage. no one else knew what had happened, and she intended to keep it that way. the last thing she needed was her heartache becoming a headline for the media, or another dagger they could use against her or her daughter.

she forced herself to take a deep breath, closing her eyes and focusing on the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. inhale, exhale. inhale, exhale. it was a mantra, a desperate attempt to keep herself grounded.

there was a knock on the bathroom door, startling her from her thoughts. “jennie, five minutes!” a staff member called out, their voice cutting through the suffocating silence that had settled around her.

jennie glanced at herself in the mirror, her reflection a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil brewing inside her. her makeup was flawless, her outfit perfectly styled, every detail meticulously crafted to present the image of a confident, untouchable idol.

but behind her carefully constructed facade, she was unraveling.

she pressed her lips together, applying a final coat of lipstick to seal the cracks in her composure. “you can do this,” she whispered to herself, “for her sake.”

the memory of his words cut deep, sharper than she ever imagined. they echoed in her mind, pulling her further into the pain she was trying so desperately to ignore. jennie squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the tears threatening to spill.

she couldn’t let anyone see her like this, especially not jane.

ivory was everything to her. her little girl was innocent, unaware of the turmoil that had just shattered her mother’s heart. jennie knew she had to protect that innocence, to shield her daughter from the pain that had been inflicted on her. she would fight through the heartbreak, smile through the tears, and give everything she had on stage, just like she always did.

a knock on the door startled her. “jennie, it’s time,” one of the staff called out.

i can read your mind

"she's having the time of her life"

she took a deep breath, forcing herself to stand up and smooth out her outfit. the weight of her heartbreak was heavy, but the thought of her daughter gave her strength. as she stepped out of the dressing room, she felt the familiar rush of adrenaline begin to course through her veins.

the stage was her escape, her sanctuary, and tonight, it would be the only thing holding her together.

“hey,” rosé gently grabbed her by the shoulder and looked her friend up and down. “are you okay?” jennie stiffened at her touch, her carefully maintained composure threatening to crumble under the concern in her friend’s eyes. she forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and nodded.

“yeah, i’m fine,” jennie replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside her. “just tired, you know?”

the blonde studied her for a moment, her brow slightly furrowed with worry. “you don’t have to pretend with me,” she said softly. “i know something’s wrong. if you need to talk—” jennie shook her head quickly, cutting her off. ]

“not now. we have a show to do. i can’t let anything distract me from that.”

rosie hesitated, clearly wanting to press further, but she knew jennie well enough to recognize when the older girl had made up her mind. “alright,” she said, letting her hand drop from jennie’s shoulder. “just remember, i’m here if you need me.”

“thanks, rosie,” jennie whispered, grateful for her friend’s understanding.

with one last nod, rosé stepped back, allowing jennie to continue her path toward the stage. as jennie walked away, she could feel rosé’s eyes on her, the concern practically radiating off her. it took everything in jennie not to turn back, not to collapse into her friend’s arms and let out the sobs that were clawing at her chest.

but she couldn’t afford that luxury. not tonight, especially since she was performing her solo first.

there in her glittering prime

the lights refract sequined stars off her silhouette every night

the stage lights hit her like a wave as she stepped into view, and the roar of the crowd surged around her, a cacophony of sound that drowned out the pain, if only for a moment. jennie forced herself to smile, to move with the music, to perform like nothing was wrong. she was an expert at this—hiding behind the idol persona. no one in the audience could see the cracks in her facade, the tears she had fought so hard to hold back.

there was a sea of people, hundreds of faces blurring together into a moving tide of lights and cheers. jennie’s eyes skimmed over the crowd, her smile firmly in place as she hit every beat with practiced precision. her body moved fluidly, as if on autopilot, each step and spin rehearsed to perfection. but her mind was miles away, trapped in the echo of her ex-boyfriend’s harsh words, the cold reality of the breakup weighing on her heart.

she barely registered the applause between verses, her focus only snapping back into place when the next note cued her in. it was almost cruel, how well she could switch on the charm, delivering every line with a confidence that belied the turmoil churning beneath the surface.

meanwhile, underneath the stage, the other members were watching jennie’s performance from the monitors. they knew her well—well enough to see the subtle tension in her shoulders and the fleeting moments where her eyes didn’t quite sparkle like they usually did.

“unnie’s really pushing herself,” lisa murmured, biting her lip as she watched jennie hit her marks flawlessly. the maknae’s usual playful demeanor was replaced with worry, her eyes glued to the screen.

“she’s been like this all day,” jisoo added, her tone low and serious. as the oldest, she often played the role of the steadying force among them, but even she couldn’t hide the unease in her voice. she knew something was wrong, but she wouldn’t dare press jennie about it now—not when they were about to perform. “you know how she gets when something’s bothering her. she just locks it away and keeps going.” she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied her friend on the screen. “it’s like she’s forcing herself, and it’s making me nervous.”

rosé was silent, her gaze fixed intently on jennie’s figure as it moved across the stage. out of the three of them, rosé felt the most attuned to her friend’s emotions. there was something deeper gnawing at their unofficial leader tonight, something that couldn’t be easily brushed off.

but jennie was stubborn—once she decided to bury her feelings, it was nearly impossible to get her to open up.

“she’s performing like nothing’s wrong, but…” rosé’s voice trailed off, her brow furrowed in concern. the slight tremble in jennie’s voice during one of the softer notes hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. it was so brief, so faint that the audience would never catch it, but to rosé, it was a crack in jennie’s usually flawless facade.

lisa looked between her members, uncertain. “should we say something when we come up? maybe cheer her up?” jisoo immediately shook her head gently. “not before the group stage. we can’t do anything now.”

“but we’ll keep an eye on her,” rosé said firmly, her resolve clear. “after the performance, let’s stay close. she might not say anything, but we’ll be there when she’s ready.” the conversation fell into silence as they watched jennie continue to command the stage, pouring everything she had into the performance.

her confidence was undeniable—hips swaying, eyes piercing through the crowd, a playful smirk on her lips—but to those who knew her best, it was almost painful to witness.

i can show you lies (one, two, three, four)

“okay,” the sound engineer’s voice echoed through her in-ears. “blackpink, stand by for group stage.”

the final beats of solo reverberated through the arena, and the applause thundered in response. jennie flashed her signature grin before the stage lights dimmed, giving her a brief moment to herself. but underneath the stage, her members knew that the show wasn’t over yet—for jennie or for them.

above them, the stage crew was already preparing for the next transition. jennie’s solo ended with a stunning pose, and the crowd roared in approval as the lights dimmed. for a split second, the screen caught jennie’s face as the spotlights faded—and that brief glimpse was all rosé needed to see the exhaustion hiding behind her friend’s eyes.

“we’re coming, jennie.” jisoo muttered to herself as they felt the platform beneath them start to rise.

as the girls were lifted up onto the stage, jennie was waiting for them at the center, already in position for ddu-du ddu-du.

'cause i'm a real tough kid, i can handle my shit

they said, "babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and i did

they knew better than to question her now. the best way they could support jennie in that moment was by giving her the strength to lean on them during the performance.

as the iconic beat of ddu-du ddu-du dropped, the girls synced up perfectly, falling into formation as if nothing was amiss. the energy was electrifying, the choreography sharp and fierce, and the crowd’s cheers were deafening.

but despite the adrenaline surging through them, each of the members was hyper-aware of jennie, subtly positioning themselves closer to her throughout the routine. they exchanged brief glances, small silent promises passing between them: we’ve got you.

for the audience, blackpink’s performance was flawless, another powerhouse display of charisma and talent.

jennie could feel the intensity of the moment—the lights, the beats, the deafening cheers—but her mind kept drifting elsewhere. despite the sharp movements and fierce expressions she was nailing, the image of her daughter, jane, lingered in the back of her thoughts.

is she okay? did she eat dinner properly? did she miss me today?

jennie’s heart tightened with every question. she knew jane was in good hands with her mom, but nothing could fully ease the ache of being away from her, especially after now knowing her father was back in the picture. it was the one thing jennie had dreaded the most—his reappearance, his attempts to insert himself into their lives after being absent for so long.

the thought of him trying to play the role of a father now, after everything he had done, made jennie’s blood boil.

does jane even think about having a dad? jennie wondered, trying to push the thoughts away. she didn’t want to believe that he could undo all the stability she and her mother had worked so hard to build. but the uncertainty gnawed at her, distracting her even as she performed in front of thousands.

rosé glanced over at jennie, sensing the tension radiating off her despite the bright smiles they all had to maintain. for a split second, their eyes met, and rosé’s brow furrowed in concern. but jennie looked away quickly, biting down on her lip and focusing on the choreography.

i can’t think about him right now, jennie told herself, even as the thoughts kept creeping in. i just need to get through this, then i’ll deal with it.

but the truth was, she had been dealing with it—every sleepless night spent worrying about how to protect jane from the storm that was threatening to come. she had sacrificed so much to keep her daughter safe, to give her the things she never had growing up.

but now, it felt like all of that could be at risk.

lights, camera, bitch smile, even when you wanna die

he said he'd love me all his life

on top of that, jennie couldn’t forget how he left her heart in ruins. the betrayal, the abandonment—it all resurfaced whenever she thought about him. she had moved on, or at least tried to, but the scars he left ran deep. the way he disappeared when she needed him most, only to reappear now, as if he had any right to disrupt the life she had built with jane.

what did he want? the idol wondered as she moved in sync with her members, executing each step with practiced precision. the stage lights blazed down on them, the fans’ cheers swelling as the performance reached its peak. jennie spun into her next move, but her mind was still clouded with thoughts of him.

why now? what could he possibly want after all this time?

as the intro of forever young approached, jennie forced herself to stay focused, her expression cool and confident, masking the turmoil swirling beneath. but her mind kept circling back to the message she had received earlier. he hadn’t said much, but the implications of his sudden reappearance were enough to send her spiraling.

she shot a quick glance at her members. lisa was next to her, radiating energy, while rosé and jisoo were singing their hearts out just a few feet away. they were giving it their all, and jennie hated that she couldn’t be fully present with them.

but the questions wouldn’t stop. she loved that man once, and despite everything, a part of her still ached at the thought of him, even now. it was a complicated mix of emotions that she couldn't entirely shake off.

but that life was too short

breaking down, i hit the floor

she still remembered the night he left, how she had sunk to the floor once he was gone, the tears coming in waves. how each breath felt like a fresh blow to her heart, and the emptiness in that cheap hotel room was palpable. she remembered how she called him again and again, her voice growing hoarse with desperation, but he never answered.

when he finally did call back, his tone was icy, devoid of any trace of the affection he once held for her. “jennie,” he hissed, his voice dripping with arrogance, “i'm done. if you call me again about this–” he paused, as if considering the right word, "—this mess, i will make sure you are ruined. you hear me?”

his lack of remorse was chilling. he spoke with a casual disdain, as though the life they had shared meant nothing. the way he spoke about their future, their child, was cold and indifferent. “get rid of it.” he continued, his words cutting through the air like ice. jennie’s heart sank as she heard those words.

they were not just a rejection of her; they were a rejection of everything she had hoped for. the future she had envisioned, the dreams she had nurtured, were dismissed with such casual cruelty that it left her breathless.

“think about what you’re doing,” he said dismissively. “you should be grateful i’m even talking to you. you’ve got no idea what this will do to me if someone finds out. just deal with it and move on.”

each word was a harsh reminder of the disparity between their lives. to him, their child was an inconvenience, a complication he was unwilling to endure. he spoke as though the responsibility was solely hers, as though his involvement was a mere inconvenience he could easily discard.

the finality in his voice made it clear that he had already moved on, leaving jennie to face the consequences alone. as the call ended, jennie was left in the silence of her own despair, the weight of his rejection settling heavily on her shoulders.

standing on stage, amidst the flashing lights and the roaring crowd, jennie was a performer hiding behind a mask of confidence. but beneath the surface, she was still that woman in the hotel room, grappling with the cruel words of a man who had abandoned her and their child.

all the pieces of me shattered as the crowd was chanting, "more"

their voices echoed around her, demanding more energy, more smiles, more of the persona she had so carefully crafted. each cheer felt like a piercing reminder of the gap between who she was on stage and the turmoil she carried inside.

jennie danced and sang, her movements precise, her smile bright but hollow. each note she hit was a reminder of her inner strength, a battle against the pain she felt. she watched her reflection in the stage lights, seeing the shimmer of her costume and the fierce look in her eyes, but she felt far removed from the image she projected.

in those moments between the songs, as the music swelled and the audience roared, jennie tried to push her personal anguish aside. the performance was her sanctuary, a place where she could momentarily escape the reality of her life. but as each song ended, the memories of that cold, dismissive voice crept back in, making it hard to hold onto her focus.

the last notes of "forever young" rang out, and jennie took a deep breath, her heart still heavy with the echoes of the past. as the crowd cheered, she gave one final, dazzling smile, pushing through the last vestiges of her pain.

i was grinning like i'm winning, i was hitting my marks

'cause i can do it with a broken heart (one, two, three, four)

“blackpink, stand by for lift.” the stage manager’s voice crackled through the earpieces. signaling the end of their performance.

jennie took one last deep breath, trying to steady herself before the final bow. the energy from the crowd still buzzed in her veins, but the weight of her emotional turmoil was beginning to settle heavily on her shoulders. the familiar routine was a temporary respite, but reality was waiting just outside the stage doors.

as they made their way backstage, jennie forced herself to maintain a composed facade. her bandmates were still close, their concern evident in their whispered conversations and fleeting glances. jennie appreciated their support, even if she wasn’t ready to open up about the turmoil inside her.

the idol quickly changed out of her stage outfit, her movements automatic and second nature. every action was a reflection of her need to escape the intensity of the night and the prying eyes that followed her every step. her hands shook slightly as she slipped into a more casual ensemble, the comfort of familiar clothes offering a small reprieve from the glamorous but constricting stage attire. she avoided looking at herself in the mirror, focusing instead on the task of packing away her stage wardrobe.

the paparazzi waiting outside the venue loomed in her mind, a reminder of the ever-present scrutiny. she knew that once she stepped outside, the flashes would resume, capturing every tear she fought so hard to keep at bay. as jennie finished changing, her friends remained nearby, their quiet presence a source of silent support. rosie, jisoo, and lisa busied themselves with their own tasks, allowing jennie the space she needed to gather her thoughts.

i'm so depressed, i act like it's my birthday every day

i'm so obsessed with him but he avoids me like the plague

the moment arrived, and jennie took a deep breath, steeling herself for the ordeal ahead. rosie placed a reassuring hand on jennie’s back, while lisa and jisoo moved close, forming a protective barrier as they approached the exit. the crowd’s roar and the flashing cameras intensified as they neared the door.

as they pushed through the throng of flashing cameras, jennie’s gaze shifted momentarily. her eyes caught a fleeting glimpse of a familiar figure just ahead of her. the back of a man’s head, unmistakably recognizable, stood out among the crowd. he was surrounded by his own entourage, making his way to a nearby black van.

jennie’s breath caught in her throat, her heart skipping a beat. the sight was brief but enough to send a wave of conflicting emotions through her. she could only see his silhouette, but it was enough to stir up a storm of memories and feelings.

the man who had once been the love of her life and the father of her child, was now just another person in the sea of flashing lights.

the sight was a painful reminder of the unresolved issues that lingered between them, a sharp contrast to the façade she maintained for the public. jennie struggled to keep her focus, pushing the unwelcome emotions aside as she stepped into the car.

i cry a lot but i am so productive, it's an art

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart

despite crying at least six times earlier that day, jennie had managed to channel her pain into her performance, her professional mask firmly in place as she danced and sang under the spotlight. it was a form of catharsis, an escape from the raw, unfiltered ache that seemed to follow her wherever she went.

“jennie, over here!” “lisa, look this way.” “rosé, jisoo, over here!”

despite the chaotic scene and the swarm of flashing cameras, jennie forced herself to keep moving forward. her exhaustion was palpable, her emotional armor beginning to crack under the pressure. she knew that her public image was as important as her private struggles, and maintaining it meant navigating the relentless gaze of the media with grace.

she made her way past the sea of reporters and photographers, her heart aching at the thought of her daughter and the life she wanted to provide for her. each step felt heavy, laden with the weight of her responsibilities and the personal sacrifices she had made. jennie couldn’t escape the feeling of being trapped between the demands of her career, the issues with her ex boyfriend, and the longing for a more personal connection with her child.

part of her even wondered what ivory would think when she found out who her father was. would she even tell her daughter who he was?

as they approached the car, jennie kept her gaze forward, determined to focus on the brief moment of respite she would find inside. she could feel the weight of the day pressing down on her, her heart heavy with thoughts of her daughter and the painful memories that had resurfaced.

the fans continued to scream, their enthusiasm contrasting sharply with jennie’s internal turmoil. the flashing lights from the paparazzi’s cameras were relentless, each lens capturing her in a moment she wished she could escape.

rosé, sensing jennie's distress, moved closer to her, offering a reassuring presence amidst the chaos. jennie simply gave her a grateful nod, appreciating the small gesture of support. lisa and jisoo remained close as well, their silent solidarity a source of comfort.

the car door finally opened, and jennie stepped inside, the noise of the crowd fading as the door closed behind her. the silence of the vehicle provided a brief reprieve from the sensory overload.

i can hold my breath

i've been doing it since he left

once all members were inside, the van slowly pulled away from the curb. jennie quickly sank into the seat, trying to steady her breathing as the car pulled away from the venue. despite the relative calm inside the vehicle, her mind was still racing, filled with thoughts of her daughter and the unresolved pain from her past.

as the van moved forward, jennie’s gaze inadvertently shifted to the vehicle right next to theirs. even through the tinted windows, she could make out the faint silhouette of a figure inside. her heart skipped a beat, recognizing the shape and the posture. it was him—his presence unmistakable, even in the dim light.

jennie’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as if it were trying to escape from her chest. the sight of him, even from such a distance and through the darkened glass, triggered a torrent of emotions she had tried so hard to suppress.

she wanted to look away, to focus on anything else, but her eyes remained locked on that silhouette, unable to tear themselves away. the weight of her memories and the unresolved feelings she carried seemed to converge in that fleeting moment of recognition.

truth be told, she felt like she’d been holding her breath since the moment he left. the only times she felt like she could breathe were when she was with jane.

the van slowly rolled past, and the silhouettes faded into the background as they continued their journey. jennie exhaled slowly, her breath trembling as she tried to regain her composure. she glanced at her reflection in the window, her eyes reflecting the fatigue and emotional strain she had been hiding so well.

the car turned a corner, and the sight of the van vanished from view. jennie allowed herself to breathe again, though the ache in her chest remained.

i keep finding his things in drawers

crucial evidence, i didn't imagine the whole thing

by the time jennie got home, she practically collapsed in the arms of her mother. the exhaustion of the day, coupled with the emotional strain, left her feeling drained. jieun wrapped her arms around jennie, holding her close in a comforting embrace.

“i’m here,” jieun whispered softly, stroking jennie’s hair. “you did great out there.”

jennie nodded, her eyes brimming with tears she had held back all night. “thanks, mom,” she murmured, her voice small and hoarse. “where is she?” the idol asked, wiping her eyes quickly with the back of her hands. jieun offered a reassuring smile and gestured towards the mentioned girl’s room.

“she’s asleep, just like you wanted.”

jennie’s mind was still buzzing with the adrenaline from the performance as she walked past her daughter’s bedroom and into her own room. a familiar drawer stood in the corner, a ghost of the past that had haunted her for far too long. it was where she kept the last remnants of the relationship that had shattered her so completely—the relationship that had left her alone to raise their daughter.

tonight, that drawer would finally be emptied.

with a determined breath, the idol marched over and yanked it open. her cat-eyes skimmed over the contents: old letters, a bracelet he’d given her, a crumpled photo of them during happier times. each item felt like a ball and chain, dragging her back into memories she wanted to bury for good.

one by one, she tossed them into a trash bag with a cold finality. the letters went first, followed by the bracelet that she once wore so proudly. when her fingers brushed over the photo, she hesitated for only a moment before crumpling it even further and shoving it into the bag. there was no room in her life for these memories—not when they were tainted by the way he’d treated her, by the way he’d dismissed jane as if she meant nothing.

this was the end of his influence in her life. the end of him taking up space in her thoughts, in her heart, and in her home.

jennie was done letting him linger in the corners of her mind. more importantly, she was done letting him have any claim over her or her daughter.

i'm sure i can pass this test (one, two, three, four)

'cause i'm a real tough kid, i can handle my shit

the woman’s hands trembled slightly as she clutched the stack of old letters and the crumpled photo. standing in the dim light of her bathroom, she stared down at the remnants of a past she was finally ready to let go of. the faint scent of perfume from those days still clung to the pages, taunting her with memories of the man who had once held her heart, only to shatter it completely.

she reached into the cabinet under the sink and grabbed a small lighter, her grip tightening as she made the decision that had been brewing inside her for months. this wasn’t just about moving on—this was about erasing him entirely from the life she had worked so hard to rebuild.

jennie took one last look at the letters, tracing the words that once brought her comfort but were now nothing more than lies. then, without hesitation, she flicked the lighter, a small flame dancing to life at her fingertips. she held the flame to the edge of the first letter and watched as it began to curl and blacken, the paper hissing as the fire consumed it.

the flames spread quickly, licking up the sides of the letter until it was nothing but ash. one by one, she fed each letter to the fire, the bitterness of the past turning to smoke in the cramped space of the bathroom. the final piece was the photo, once a snapshot of what she thought was happiness. as she held it over the sink, the flames ate away at the image of his smiling face until there was nothing left but charred edges and a fading memory.

the idol stared at the ashes for a moment, feeling the finality of it all settle deep within her. there was something cathartic about watching the pieces of her past dissolve into nothingness, leaving behind only a clean slate.

she turned on the faucet, washing away the remnants of the burned paper, watching them swirl down the drain. the water carried away the last traces of him, taking with it the weight she had carried for so long.

with a deep breath, jennie shut off the water and stood in the silence of the bathroom. the scent of smoke lingered faintly, but she felt lighter, freer than she had in years. this was her moment of reclaiming herself, of choosing her future over the pain of her past.

satisfied, jennie tucked the lighter back into the cabinet and left the bathroom, the ashes now just a memory.

but before heading to bed, she had one more stop to make.

they said, "babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and i did

she quietly walked down the hallway and opened the door to jane’s room. her daughter was fast asleep, curled up in her blankets with a soft, peaceful expression that tugged at jennie’s heart. all the stress and turmoil of the day melted away as she approached the bed and gently lowered herself next to jane.

jennie leaned in and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, breathing in the comforting scent of her little girl. “i’m here, baby,” she whispered softly. “mommy’s always here.”

as she watched jane sleep, jennie’s heart swelled with a fierce protectiveness. he could never understand what it took to sit here with their daughter, night after night, through the sleepless nights, the fevers, the fears, and the little triumphs. he could never comprehend the sacrifices jennie had made to ensure jane grew up surrounded by love and stability.

the man who had abandoned them so callously would never grasp the strength it took to be both mother and father.

she was juggling the pressures of celebrity life while still doing her best to put jane first in everything. and now, with his arrogance and indifference still echoing in her mind, jennie’s resolve hardened.

“i won’t let him near you,” she whispered, her voice firm even as it trembled with emotion. “he doesn’t deserve to know you, to see the beautiful, smart girl you’re growing up to be. he walked away, and that was his choice. but i’m the one who stayed. i’m the one who’s here for you, always.”

jennie’s fingers lightly stroked jane’s soft hair, her chest tightening with a mixture of love and determination. “i don’t care what he tries to do. i won’t let him take you away, i won’t let him hurt you. you’re my everything, jane. and i’ll protect you with everything i have.”

she blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over, determined to stay strong, for jane and for herself. jennie knew that being an idol meant living in the spotlight, where even her most private moments were vulnerable to public scrutiny. but this—her love for her daughter—was sacred, and she would never let the shadows of her past cast a shadow on jane’s future.

after a few moments, jennie leaned down and kissed jane’s forehead once again, lingering in the warmth of her daughter’s presence. “you’re safe, baby,” she whispered. “as long as i’m here, you’ll always be safe.”

lights, camera, bitch smile, in stilettos for miles

he said he'd love me for all time

with a deep breath, jennie slowly stood and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her. the soft click of the door seemed to echo in the stillness of the night. she paused for a moment in the hallway, letting her back rest against the wall as she composed herself. the overwhelming emotions she’d held back all day threatened to surge forward, but she quickly pushed them down, reminding herself that she couldn’t break down in front of her daughter’s door.

she moved to her bedroom, deciding that the shower would be the place for her to let everything out.

the second she stepped under the spray, the tears she’d been holding back finally broke free. her sobs were swallowed by the sound of the rushing water, each one tearing through her as all the emotions she’d bottled up throughout the day poured out. jennie pressed her forehead against the cool tile, letting the water mix with her tears as she cried for everything she’d been carrying inside—the loneliness, the exhaustion, the pain of dealing with her ex, and the overwhelming fear of not being enough for jane.

the pressure of being jennie, the idol, was one thing. but being jennie, the mother, was another burden altogether. she felt like she was constantly balancing on a tightrope, trying to give jane everything she deserved while holding herself together for the world.

but that time was quite short

breaking down, i hit the floor

as the scalding water hit her skin, jennie felt her body start to tremble. she hugged herself, trying to find some sense of comfort in the midst of her breakdown. she hated feeling this way, hated that even in her own home, she couldn’t fully escape the shadows of her past.

but more than anything, jennie hated him—hated how he had turned her love into a source of pain, how he had made her doubt her own worth, how he had walked away so easily, leaving her to face everything alone. and yet, even with all that hate, there was a part of her that still hurt because of how much she had once loved him.

jennie cried harder, her sobs shaking her entire body as she let everything out—the fear, the anger, the sorrow. she stayed under the water until her tears finally ran dry and all she was left with was exhaustion.

slowly, jennie slid down to sit on the floor of the shower, letting the water run over her as she stared blankly at the tiles. her chest still felt tight, but she couldn’t cry anymore. she didn’t have the energy left to.

the worst part about being an idol was the fact that even though she felt horrible now, and would still feel similar tomorrow morning, she’d still have no choice but to plaster on a smile and perform. jennie knew that no matter how shattered she felt inside, the world expected her to be flawless, to be jennie from blackpink—confident, poised, and untouchable.

the pressure never let up, and sometimes it felt like her true self was buried so deep under the idol persona that she forgot what it was like to be just jennie, a woman struggling with heartbreak, a mother trying to protect her child.

she rested her head against the cool tile wall, letting the water continue to soak her hair. she thought about the endless schedule waiting for her in the morning—the interviews, the rehearsals, the meetings. there was no room in that schedule for weakness, no space for the heartache gnawing at her insides. but she had long since accepted that this was her reality.

no one was going to stop and ask if she was okay; they would just expect her to keep going.

all the pieces of me shattered as the crowd was chanting, "more"

jennie shut her eyes tightly, the weight of it all pressing down on her. the loneliness felt unbearable at times, but she couldn’t afford to give in to it. she had jane, and that was what mattered most. her daughter was her anchor, the one thing in her life that was real, pure, and untouched by the world’s expectations. jennie would endure anything to make sure jane never had to feel the way she did right now—lost, broken, and alone.

with a shaky breath, jennie slowly pushed herself to stand. the water had turned cold, but she barely noticed as she reached for a towel and wrapped it around herself. she stared at her reflection in the fogged-up mirror, barely recognizing the woman looking back at her. her eyes were puffy and red, her face pale from exhaustion, but she knew she had no choice but to push through it.

she quickly dried herself off and slipped into a comfortable pair of pajamas. her body was running on autopilot, each movement mechanical as she moved through her nightly routine. but as she finally collapsed into bed, the emptiness she had been holding at bay all day rushed in like a tidal wave. lying in the darkness, she felt the overwhelming urge to check her phone—an old habit she couldn’t seem to break.

jennie couldn’t resist the urge to scroll through social media, knowing all too well that the night’s performance had already gone viral. she opened her favorite app, her heart heavy with a mixture of anxiety and curiosity. the trending tags were filled with blackpink and her name, accompanied by clips and photos of their performance. fans praised her charisma, her fierce stage presence, and how flawlessly she delivered a performance.

but those who only saw the idol on stage had no idea how broken she felt underneath the spotlight.

she kept scrolling, her thumb moving automatically as she skimmed through posts. some fans noticed the emotion in her eyes, speculating about what might be going on behind the scenes. “jennie looked like she was holding back tears during that last song,” one post read. “she’s such a pro, but i hope she’s okay.” another fan wrote, “no one performs like jennie, even when she’s clearly hurting. she deserves the world.”

i was grinning like i'm winning, i was hitting my marks

'cause i can do it with a broken heart (one, two, three)

the kind words made jennie’s eyes sting with fresh tears, but then came the harsher comments—the ones she’d learned to steel herself against. “she looks tired. maybe she’s losing her touch,” someone commented under a video clip. another user questioned her commitment to the group, speculating about why she seemed “distracted” lately. those words cut deeper than they should have, but jennie had grown used to this duality—the praise and the judgment that came hand in hand with fame.

she knew the fans meant well, but they could never understand the full picture. how could they know that behind every smile was a woman who had just burned the last traces of a man who shattered her heart? or that beneath her perfectly applied makeup was a mother fighting every day to protect her daughter from the man who abandoned them both?

jennie took a deep breath and locked her phone, tossing it onto the bed beside her. the more she tried to engage with her public persona, the more the lines between jennie the idol and jennie the person blurred.

but tonight, she couldn’t be the idol anymore.

i'm so depressed, i act like it's my birthday every day

i'm so obsessed with him but he avoids me like the plague (he avoids me)

she quickly switched to her contacts application. for a brief moment, she just stared at her screen with her thumb hovering over his name. even after everything he had done, a part of her still clung to the past, to the memories of who he used to be. but those days were long gone, and she knew deep down that holding onto this last connection was only hurting her more.

she had already burned his letters, destroying the last physical remnants of their relationship. this was the final step—the one that would completely sever whatever ties were still left between them.

with trembling hands, jennie opened his contact information. her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at his name, the memories of his cruel words replaying in her mind. "get rid of it," he had said about her daughter. the cold indifference in his voice still echoed in her ears, reminding her that he didn’t deserve to be a part of jane’s life—or hers.

taking a deep breath, jennie clenched her jaw and pressed “delete contact.” the screen flashed for a moment before his name disappeared, leaving an empty space where it used to be. it was a small act, but it felt like reclaiming a piece of herself. she wasn’t going to let him haunt her anymore.

he had made his choice to leave, and now she was making hers.

i cry a lot but i am so productive, it's an art

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart

jennie dropped the phone onto the bedside table and lay back against the pillows. the room was quiet, but there was a certain finality in the silence that felt liberating. she had carried the weight of that relationship for so long, letting it define her pain and shape her fears. but now, she was free of him—free to focus on herself and on jane.

as she pulled the covers up to her chin, jennie allowed herself to imagine a future where his shadow no longer loomed over her every decision. it wouldn’t be easy, and there would still be days when the hurt would resurface, but she knew that she had the strength to keep moving forward.

it was odd how the world knew everything about her. from the way she styled her hair to the rumors about who she might be dating—everything was dissected and discussed like it was public property. yet, the most crucial parts of her life, the battles she fought in silence, remained unseen. they didn’t know about the sleepless nights when she stared at the ceiling, replaying every moment she wished she could change.

they had no idea how every choice she made was weighed against the thought of what was best for her daughter, and how the love she had for ivory kept her going when she felt like crumbling.

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart

you know you're good, i'm good

from the outside, jennie’s life looked perfect—glamorous even. the designer clothes, the luxury cars, the millions of fans hanging on to her every word. but behind all the glitz and glamor, she was just a woman trying to find her way, trying to make the best out of the cards she’d been dealt.

sometimes, the idol felt as if she never grew up. she was surrounded by all these symbols of success—fame, fortune, and the endless applause—but inside, she felt like a child grappling with responsibilities far beyond her years.

yes, she got pregnant at a young age. but even at 22 years old, she still didn’t feel fully grown up. the responsibilities of motherhood had thrust her into a world of adult concerns far earlier than she had anticipated. sometimes, she felt like she was faking her way through adulthood, juggling the expectations of being a public figure with the demands of being a devoted mother.

jennie often wondered if she would ever truly feel like an adult, or if the weight of her responsibilities would always overshadow her sense of personal growth. but as she lay in bed, exhausted and emotionally drained, she took solace in the small victories and the love she had for her daughter. that love was a constant reminder that, despite the struggles and imperfections, she was capable of handling whatever life threw her way.

her journey was far from ordinary, but it was uniquely hers.

'cause i'm miserable

and nobody even knows

try and come for my job

inside her room, jane’s eyes remained wide open. she hadn’t been fully asleep, just resting in the comfort of her mother’s presence when she arrived. her grandmother had told her to pretend to be asleep after letting her stay up to watch her mother on tv. but now in quiet darkness, the weight of what she had overheard settled heavily on her small shoulders.

she didn’t know much about her father; he was just a mysterious figure in stories she’d never heard fully told. but she understood enough to know that he wasn’t a good person—especially if he made her mom cry like that.

even at her young age, jane could sense the tension in jennie’s voice, the way she spoke with a mix of love and sadness. her father wasn’t spoken about, and when he was brought up it was always in hushed tones or quickly changed subjects. the absence of his presence in her life made her mother’s emotions all the more vivid.

jane knew that her father’s name was like a shadow that loomed over their lives, even if he was never directly present. the stories she overheard or the subtle changes in her mother’s mood whenever the topic arose painted a picture of someone who had caused a great deal of pain. it wasn’t hard for her to piece together that he was a source of deep hurt for her mother.

tears welled up in jane’s eyes as she lay there, silent sobs shaking her small frame. she covered her mouth with her tiny hands, trying to stifle the sounds so her mom wouldn’t hear. she didn’t want to worry jennie, not when she could feel how hard her mom was trying to protect her. but it hurt, knowing that there was someone out there who should’ve cared for her, yet never did.

jane buried her face in her pillow, crying quietly. she clung to the comforting words jennie had whispered just moments ago: “you’re safe, baby.” it was all she needed to hold onto, even as her small heart ached with the confusion and hurt of a reality she was too little to fully understand.

ivory didn’t know how long she laid there for, but after a while, her sobs faded into soft sniffles, and she began drifting off to sleep. even in her drowsiness, a part of her held onto the hope that her mom would always be there, always keeping her safe from the shadows she didn’t yet fully comprehend.

and in that very moment, right before sleep overtook her, she vowed to protect her mother from the man who had caused her so much pain.

previous | masterlist | next

TAGLIST ⸺ ✶ @silantryoo @imahallucination11 @jisooftme @yerimbrit @linnnsworld @edeivveiss @urmom2314 @aespasoooool @mygfiswonyoung @yeetaberry127 @@sixflame438 @yourmyst4r @shegoswhoree @saysirhc @hwm1hyun @literallybipanic @yejiscene @gayforalll @yvsvrn @bunnywonyo @karifrogs @thefckghost @yoontoonwhs @pandafuriosa60 @somedaydream @hotluvlet @pagedpick7 @lizseos @cy8erpunkz @keiji-jin @lizseos @xszn @awkwardtoafault @hellokiraa @chicopichu @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite @lesbian4themis @literallybipanic @tjdc25 @st4r4ngel @jihyos-hoe @jxmis

CLOSED.

#jennie kim #blackpink #lesserafim #angst #kpop angst #original series #jisoo kim #roseanne park #lalisa manoban #kim chaewon #ivory #perfectsunlight

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hoshinoyozora · 2 years ago

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Poor, Unfortunate Soul(s)

🖤 Pairing: Yandere! Self-aware! Twisted Wonderland x Female! Reader

💛 Word Count: 1,3k+

❤ Warnings: -

[Edited]

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission. Also, don’t ask for a sequel unless I like the story enough to write one. Please reblog so other people can see my stories!

***

Just a lil scenario about MC who ‘dismisses’ their existences aka me lmao.

“They’re just a bunch of game characters, anyway. Why should I care so much about them?”

You laughed, unaware of the hearts that you broke within the screen. The thin yet sturdy piece of glass that separated you from the people who thought of you as their world. Their everything. Your friend chuckled, adding salt to the injury. Had she didn’t ask you why you hadn’t logged into the game for days, weeks even, maybe they wouldn’t be so humiliated and disappointed.

But did that mean they wouldn’t know your true opinion on them otherwise?

Maybe ignorance was bliss, because, then, they would’ve kept holding onto the hope for you to come back. To still want them the same way they wanted you. In this world of codes and numbers, you were the one real thing in their lives. You were human. Warm, fleshy, and expressive. And yet, you dismissed their existences so easily just because you both lived in two different worlds.

Did they really mean nothing for you? Were all of your reactions towards them merely a façade? Or a memory so insignificant you forgot about it in the next day?

“Maybe I should just delete the app. It feels like a chore to open it nowadays.”

The sky darkened, the ground trembled, and the thunder rumbled as the result of a certain dragon fae. Was this your true self? Then again, NRC was a school of villains. They shouldn’t be surprised if you, the Player, turned out to be the biggest villain of all. Not even Malleus Draconia could hold a candle to you. Your words alone had the ability to mold and break their spirits. Your touch alone could move them somewhere else and show them how beautiful Twisted Wonderland was with you by their side. And your presence alone gave them a reason to live.

If you were to disappear, wouldn’t that be comparable to death? A slow, painful death where everyone lost themselves in depression and rage, and ultimately, destroyed themselves. In a moment of morbid curiosity, they wondered if that was what you wanted all along. You toyed with their hearts, and when you got bored, you moved onto their lives.

“We… we can’t just let her leave!” A boyish voice, thick with desperation and an even desperate attempt to recompose, shattered the mournful silence. Everyone recognized him as Ace Trappola, one of Yuu’s enviable first friends and troublemakers from Heartslabyul. “We need to stop her! Come on, guys. Are we really going to stop now, after everything we’ve done to reach her?”

“But how?” Leona asked, sounding even more listless somehow. Despite his pride and consent, you’d taken a peek into his past and remained amicable with him. It didn’t matter that it was for the sake of the plot, your vessel, Yuu, still approached him and asked for his help during Octavinelle’s story. Didn’t that mean something for you? For him? “Just because we’ve managed to hack into her phone doesn’t mean we can drag her here. There’s only so much we can do to make her stay.”

Ace flinched, unprepared for the reality to slap him twice.

“I-I don’t know.” He turned to face the Diasomnia gang who, with the exception of the sniffling Sebek, looked as somber as a funeral guest. “Malleus-senpai, Lilia-senpai, you guys gotta know something about bringing someone from another world, right? You guys are the strongest of the strongest. I don’t care if it’s forbidden. There… there has to be a way!”

For a moment, they were silent as though reluctant to admit their lack of knowledge. Ace wilted, his buckling knees threatening to collapse once the severity of the situation settled in.

That is, until Lilia opened his mouth.

“… There is, actually.” he murmured. “But for every soul that moves here, another has to replace them.”

Some of the characters lit up, but the others remained skeptical.

“And I assume it’s for the sake of balance?” Vil mused, crossing his arms.

Lilia’s glance confirmed his suspicion.

“T-then, what are we waiting for?” In a burst of hope, Azul momentarily stopped sobbing. “Let’s sacrifice that person.”

“But who’s gonna be that person?” Jamil retorted.

Everyone fell quiet again, unwilling to be the lamb in the altar of your capricious existence.

“The NPCs ‘live’ when the story is moving.” Idia mumbled through the floating device. His shyness and reluctance for a face-to-face interaction was customary, but nobody could truly see the underworld his sanity was falling at a rapid pace. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he still wanted to see you living among them. Literally. “That means she has to play again if we want to sacrifice one of them.”

“I, for one, would be more than willing to help ‘convincing’ her, if that’s what it takes.” Jade simpered with his eyes closed and a hand over his chest.

“Oui! It’d be a splendid day to see her sublime face gracing us again. The sun would shine warmly, the flowers would grow tastefully, and the birds would chirp merrily!” Rook enthused, jabbing at Malleus’s inadvertent use of magic.

Riddle wiped his teary eyes with the sleeve of his uniform and straightened up.

“Seeing that our Player has slackened in her responsibility to watch over us, it is our duty to set her right.” he declared. “Heartslabyul students, I order you to find this person and bring him here!”

“I-I agree…!” Sebek piped up, still loud as always despite his trembling voice and runny nose. “I shall seize him and send him to that world at once!”

Ever the dutiful one, Silver gripped his baton and nodded. As long as it wasn’t murder without a cause, he’d gladly perform any task like a true knight would.

“Well, if Riddle ordered us like this, who are we to disobey him?” Cater laughed, trying to hide the shakiness of his voice.

Trey pushed his glasses, foggy from the upcoming tears.

“Indeed. But I won’t lie, this is something that I’m looking forward to carry out.”

“For once, you did something right, Ace!” Deuce beamed proudly.

“Oi!”

Jamil glanced at Kalim, who reluctantly nodded. He hated to see people throwing away their lives carelessly, after all the assassination attempts that he suffered through the story. But if it was for the sake of seeing you with them, who was he to stop them?

Floyd grinned happily, but the anger of being abandoned by you darkened his eyes.

“Once she gets here, I’ll be sure to give her a nice, long squeeze as a welcome~”

“Well, Leona-san?” Ruggie asked, crossing his hands behind his head. “Are we gonna boost their morale or something?”

Leona sighed, lacking the irritated exhaustion he usually had. Even he wasn’t immune to the hope that Lilia brought to them, no matter how annoying it was to trust him.

“You better not be disappointing us, Lilia.” he growled. “And you, too, Radish Sprout.”

“I don’t like this.” Jack murmured. “But if this is what it takes to make the Player fulfill her role again, then I’ll do my best to live up to the expectations!”

“I… I will join as well!” Epel stated, clenching his fists resolutely.

“Look, Brother!” Ortho chirped. “You managed to bring them all together. That’s so cool!”

Idia muttered something, but the younger boy was too engrossed in their touching cooperation to notice.

Sunlight finally dispersed the dark clouds, mirroring their spirit. Malleus took a step forward with his chin raised in determination.

“Then, I shall assist Lilia with the magic.”

You said you didn’t care about them?

Well, they would make you care.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #twst imagines #self aware twst #self aware au #yandere twst #female reader #yandere heartslabyul #yandere savanaclaw #yandere octavinelle #yandere scarabia #yandere pomefiore #yandere ignihyde #yandere diasomnia

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aventurineswife · 8 days ago

Note

anon who requested the IPC worker x Aventurine where reader faked their death :D

a part 2 would be cool, how you go abt it id up 2 u but if u would like any ideas…it could maybe have a flashback of their fakeout death and Aven’s reaction, and then flash to the present where he tries to leave IPC to live domestically w Reader, but they get killed for real in the process (i’m angst #1s lover) and now Aven is stuck in the IPC 😭

“At the end of the world, or the last thing I see, you are never coming home” | Part 2

Summary: Memories of your past with Aventurine resurface, unraveling the intense moments that led to your faked death. A flashback reveals the night you made the harrowing decision to disappear, showing how it shattered Aventurine’s world. Torn between loyalty to IPC and his love for you, Aventurine is ultimately willing to risk everything for a future together. However, when he attempts to leave the IPC, tragedy strikes, claiming your life in reality this time. Now, Aventurine must face an eternity of regret and entrapment within the very organization you both sought to escape. Bound to the IPC, haunted by memories of you, he is left yearning for a life he can never have.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, angst, fake death reveal, intense emotions, love and loss, tragedy, betrayal, hurt/comfort, forbidden love, character death, emotional breakdown, regret, forced separation, internal conflict, bittersweet romance.

Warnings: Intense emotional themes, character death, grief, betrayal, mentions of violence, flashbacks, guilt and regret, dark themes, potential tearjerker, unresolved trauma.

A/N: AHHHH!!! 😭 THAT'S SO MEAN BUT SO GOOD TOO?! MY BABY!!! 🥺💔

(Part 1)

The memory clung to Aventurine like a shadow—one he could never shake. He could still recall every detail from that day years ago, the day he’d thought he’d lost you forever. In his mind, it was as if he were back there now, reliving the dreadful series of events that tore you from his life.

It had started with an anonymous tip. He’d been in the heart of IPC headquarters, surrounded by the opulent furnishings and hushed power plays that were his world, when he received the message. The vague words scrawled across the screen still felt burned into his mind: An unexpected death in IPC’s ranks. Don’t ask too many questions.

At first, he’d dismissed it as some cruel joke or an attempt to provoke him. But as whispers circulated, he’d felt an ache that reached far deeper than any professional ambition or loyalty to the IPC. His instincts screamed at him that something was wrong. His fingers shook when he finally demanded details from an IPC informant. They had tried to placate him with silence, then with excuses, before finally leading him to a private room where they produced a list of names lost in action. His eyes landed on yours.

His heart had shattered. And in that moment, the world he’d so carefully built around him crumbled. The IPC, his title, every ounce of the strategic power he wielded felt like a joke, a hollow nothing in the face of your loss. Days bled into weeks, then months as he clawed through records, files, and whispers, desperate to uncover anything that could prove this had been a mistake. Eventually, after countless sleepless nights and fading hope, he resigned himself to a cruel reality: you were gone.

In the present, Aventurine had all but lost himself in your kiss, his hands cradling your face as if afraid you might disappear again. But now that he’d found you, he couldn’t imagine letting you slip away. You’d barely finished promising him you weren’t going anywhere when he whispered urgently, “Come with me. I'll leave the IPC. We can start over, together.”

The idea hung in the air, and the look on your face said you wanted it as much as he did. The life you’d built in hiding had given you some solace, but nothing compared to the warmth that had returned the moment you’d locked eyes with him again.

“I want to, Aventurine,” you murmured, your voice soft with hope but tinged with caution. “But you know, you leaving IPC isn’t going to be that simple.”

He gave a wry smile, the familiar gleam of his gambler’s spirit returning to his gaze. “Since when have I ever played it safe?”

It was settled. Together, you and Aventurine began planning a final escape from IPC, the promise of a quiet, shared life filling every unspoken moment between you.

Weeks later, the two of you were ready. Aventurine had secured falsified documents, disguises, and even an old shuttle that he’d salvaged and reprogrammed to slip through IPC scanners. His heart thrummed with excitement as he held your hand, the two of you ducking into back alleys and secret passages within IPC’s labyrinthine halls, moving closer to the shuttle bay with each step.

But just as freedom felt within reach, a familiar voice stopped him cold.

“Aventurine,” called a smooth, calculating voice—a voice he knew well, belonging to his superior within IPC, one of the few who could see through his every bluff. “Going somewhere?”

A team of armed operatives closed in, blocking your escape route, and Aventurine felt his stomach sink as he saw the trap closing around you both.

“What’s this?” he asked smoothly, masking his fear with a cocky grin as he positioned himself protectively in front of you. “A farewell party?”

His superior raised a brow, her gaze shifting to you before returning to him. “Leaving isn’t an option for a Stoneheart. Surely you know that.”

He cast a glance over his shoulder, meeting your eyes, silently urging you to stay close, to trust him just one last time. “Then let me make it clear,” he replied, stepping forward, his voice steady. “I’m done with IPC. And if you want me, you’ll have to get through us both.”

In the ensuing chaos, you and Aventurine fought with everything you had, desperate for one last chance at freedom. But just as you were about to reach the shuttle, a shot rang out.

You stumbled, a look of shock crossing your face as blood bloomed from your side. Aventurine’s heart seized. “No,” he whispered, catching you as you collapsed into his arms. “No, no, please… we were almost there.”

Your eyes met his, filled with a quiet acceptance he couldn’t bear. “It’s okay, Aventurine,” you murmured, your hand weakly reaching to touch his face. “I’m just sorry… I couldn’t give you the life we dreamed of.”

Tears he’d fought so long to hide spilled over as he held you, pressing his forehead to yours. “No, no, please don’t… I can’t do this without you.” But even as he clung to you, your grip grew weaker, your breaths fainter.

When your hand slipped from his cheek, Aventurine was left cradling your lifeless form, his vision blurring as grief consumed him. He’d lost you once before, but nothing had prepared him for the agony of losing you again—for real this time.

In the end, IPC dragged him back, broken and hollow, the final remnant of his old life slipping through his fingers. He returned to the office and his title as a Stoneheart, each day haunted by the love he’d sacrificed to leave the IPC, each night dreaming of a life he’d never know.

And so Aventurine remained, a prisoner of the world he’d once called his own, but now bound by grief—a gambler who’d lost his most precious wager.

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bbunivxrse · 10 months ago

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 2:34AM ‒ megumi fushiguro

pairing ‒ 21+megumi x f!reader contents ‒ College AU, alcohol consumption, gets a bit suggestive at one part but no smut, heartbroken megumi gets wasted asfff, a bit angsty word count ‒ 2.3k a/n ‒ a tad bit angsty fgjioejio wrote this at like 4am if you see mistakes no tf u didnt ??? - also making my posts more nice n pretty n aesthetic cuz i felt like it :3

Megumi Fushiguro sat alone on the couch at a party. he can’t recall why he was there or how many shots he had but everything was starting to get cloudy. girl after girl walking up to him, offering him drinks. he hates alcohol. he hates the taste, he hates the smell, he hates the feeling of it in his mouth and going down his throat, he hates being drunk and he hates being hungover, yet he continues accepting all their offers. the women were hot but none of them were you. maybe he thought if he drank enough he could forget the past, forget the guilt and move on from everything like he should’ve a long time ago. he thought if he got drunk enough the regretful thoughts of the past would go away and the thoughts of you along with it. then he could go on with his life. but the more he drank the more present it became and the more his reality began to shatter at the thought.

girl after girl came up to him, sat near him, sat beside him, sat on him, yet it was only you he could think about. he gladly took their drinks but could barely have a one sided conversation with them for a few minutes before shooing them away.

as the party went on it felt like the music got louder and the lights brighter. his head pounded and he felt nauseous. ‘what am i doing here.’ megumi sinks into the couch, trying to keep himself calm by taking deep breaths and grounding himself in reality. ‘i wanna go home.’ he takes out his phone and stares at his lock screen, it was pitch black with only the white text of the time and date showing. he remembers when it used to be a picture of you with the text showing how far away you were from him. a picture you had taken of yourself in the mirror and sent to him, moments later he had it saved and set it to his wallpaper. he remembers your reaction when you saw it, a bright smile on your face while he was a bit embarrassed to be caught doing something he considered a bit ‘obsessive.’

megumi is ripped from his thoughts as someone taps on his shoulder. “wanna have a drink with me..?” he looks up to a see a woman standing right in front of him, a bottle of wine in her hand. megumi wanted to say no, and he was about to, until he took a closer look. ‘she looks just like her’. no, she wasnt exactly the same, but she was similar. from the shape of her body to the way she did her makeup, the way she styled her hair, the jewelry she wore and the shy expression on her face. even the damn dress she wore was similar to the short, black, skin tight dress he had bought you. she was so similar, so familiar, but it still wasn’t you. “sure.”

megumi patted his lap for her to sit down. she handed him the entire bottle and the two of them shared until the bottle was finished. they chatted as they took swigs from the bottle of wine, and as the conversation went on megumi continued to realize that as similar as she seemed, she wasn’t you. it started to throw him off. she didn’t talk like you, she didn’t have the same favourite colour or have the same aspirations. she was still a stranger. she felt like you, looked like you, dressed like you, she almost was you. almost. “let’s go somewhere private.”

megumi pulls her off his lap and leads this mysterious women to a bedroom. this would be the first time he’s fucked another woman since getting with you, even though it’s been months since you left him. he hasn’t even looked at another woman until tonight. he closes the door to the bedroom, the mystery woman pulling him closer and putting her lips on his. ‘she doesn’t kiss like her.’ megumi is yet again reminded that as much as he wants this to be you and he’s willing to pretend it’s you, it’s not you. still, he allows her to unbotton his shirt as they make out and get into bed. she hiked up her dress for him, revealing her black laced panties. ‘her favourite set was red.’

megumi hovers over her, his eyes dead set on her panties making her a bit uncomfortable. ‘what am i doing?’ he questions himself, the headache starting to come back as the music that was previously bothering him can be heard from downstairs. “i need to go.”

“what?” megumi barely gives her a chance to speak before getting out of bed and heading out the door. she fixes herself up before following after him, but by the time she’s back to the party, he’s already gone.

megumi stumbles down the sidewalk, aimlessly walking into the night. the streetlights barely illuminate the sidewalk as he tried to keep himself upright. he finds himself at a dimly lit park, throwing himself onto a park bench. he groans as he takes out his phone, the bright light blinding him and making his skull splitting headache worse. the words on the screen are barely legible as he spends an embarrassing amount of time trying to find his contacts. he thinks about calling yuuji, but he knows he’s usually asleep by this time and keeps his phone on do not disturb at night. he scrolls to kugisaki and calls her instead. the phone rings for a bit, before he hears her groggy voice on the line. “hello..?”

“can you pick me up?” megumi barely pieces his sentence together “oh my god megumi, it’s 3AM! you shouldve left earlier. i’m going to bed, i have a class in the morning.”

“please, kugisaki. i can’t drive…” megumis words slur a bit “holy shit, you actually drank?? oh my god this isn’t what i meant when i told you to have some fun.”

“just pick me up. ill make it up to you.” megumi pleads over the phone, a desperate tone coming from his voice that she wasn't used to hearing even after knowing him for so many years

“yeah, whatever. where are you? actually, don’t fucking bother, you sound too wasted to figure that out. just send me your location.” megumi can hear his friend's bed sheets ruffling as she gets out of bed, which begins to fill him with a bit of guilt, even if she was the one who suggested he go to the party in the first place. eventually he figures out how to send kugisaki his location, patiently waiting for it to go through. “okay, i got it. ill be there soon, idiot.” she hangs up before he can say anything back.

megumi sits back on the hard bench, rethinking his night at the party. he wasn’t even hung over yet but he already regretted all of it. he had hoped that the music and the people and the alcohol would distract him, take his thoughts away from the past and finally live in the present but they only made him miss you more. if you were still with him he’d be in your room, laying in your bed napping whilst you studied for your next exam. the music wouldn’t be blasting in his ears and causing him a headache and instead would be soft lofi playing quietly from your speaker, which helped you study and helped him sleep. he wouldn’t have to try and imagine the girl he was talking to was you, it would’ve been you.

without thinking, megumi takes out his phone, opening up a locked folder. his face id unlocks the folder that held pictures and videos of you. he’s gone through everything multiple times and he wishes he could still take more and add them to his collection. he wishes you would still take pictures of your outfits and send them to him. he wishes his wallpaper was still his favourite picture of you.

tears begin to well in his eyes as he turns off his phone and stuffs it in his pocket, he can’t bring himself to look through that folder again. not in his current state. you’re already gone, he knows that, he’s been told that, you told him that. he knows he needs to move on and continue his life without you but you’ve been the only thing on his mind for months and the alcohol in his system certainly wasn’t helping.

megumi wipes his tears as he hears the car in front of him beep. pushing himself off the bench, he limps his way over to his friend’s car and gets in the back seat.

“jesus, i thought you didn’t like drinking.” usually his friend would laugh at him for things like this but this time her tone and the look on her face was more serious. “whatever.”

the car ride was abnormally silent and the odd tension in the air was prevalent. kugisaki dropped him off in front of the dorms, his roommate already waiting for him outside. “thanks.” is all megumi can say to his friend as he walks away from her car.

“you alright, megumi? did something happen while you were there?” yuuji takes a good look at his best friend. he knows it’s been rough since the break up, he’s seen all of it. he’s done what he can to help keep his mind off it, to help his friend move past it but clearly it’s all still there. he feels guilty for sending megumi to this party now. kugisaki suggested it but he was the one who really convinced him it’d be a good idea, but he should’ve thought it through a bit more. yuuji can see the puffiness of his eyes and it breaks his heart to see his normally stoic friend in such a state. he’s really tried everything to help but at this point he can’t do much anymore. “it’s okay man, forget about it.” he throws an arm around his friend to keep him stable, taking him back to their shared dorm. yuuji spends the night trying to distract his friend, getting him to sober up and eventually fall asleep.

sunlight spilling from the blinds shines on megumis face, waking him up. the moment he opens his eyes he’s met with painful pounding in his head. still, he manages to sit up, his headache getting worst every moment hes conscious. he makes his way to the living room, where his friend is already sitting on the couch. “hey.” he barely mumbles out before plopping himself on the other side of the couch. “you hungry?” his roommate waved back at him.

“no.” megumi gets himself comfortable on the couch, trying to distract from the overwhelming throbbing he’s feeling. suddenly his phone buzzes on the coffee table, where he apparently left it last night. picking it up, he had a slightly abnormal amount of notifications from kugisaki, both texts and calls.

[ 4 missed calls from kugisaki ]

[ kugisaki: did you text y/n? ]

[ kugisaki: megumi answer my call oml ]

his heart drops as he opens his phone and goes to messages, and there he sees it. three messages he had sent last night, all of which he doesn’t even recall. “sorry…” yuuji looks over at his roommate, seeing the colour from his face leave as he looks at the messages he had sent. “i tried to stop you but you were gonna beat the shit outta me when i took your phone...”

“it’s fine.. sorry.” megumi didn’t even want to read the messages he sent. he can see them, he can see that they went through, he can see that you haven’t read them, and he doesn’t want to read them either. he decides to turn off his phone and put it down, judging by kugisaki’s messages, you had already seen the messages and told her about them, just never actually opened them. ‘fuck.’

“hey, why don’t we just go out somewhere? To help you forget about it. let’s go watch a movie!” normally megumi isn’t the most excited about leaving his home and heading out. he prefers staying in his room, lounging on the couch or getting a good workout in at the gym, but today he feels more than ever that he needs to spend some time doing something else, distract himself from his sad, dull life. go out and have some actual fun, especially with his best friend. “sure,”

“I told you it’d be a good movie!” yuuji pokes at his friend’s arm.

“It was about an earthworm.” megumi playfully rolls his eyes as the two of them walk out of the theater. “It was more than that! Did you even watch the movie!?” the two of them continue to argue about the quality of the movie they had just seen on their way to the parking lot. megumi takes his phone out of his pocket to check his notifications and his heart drops for a second time that day. a name that hasn’t appeared on his lock screen in months, the name he’d been waiting to see there for so long. it was the only one in his contacts to have any sort of emoji or decoration to it, and he never changed it despite everything.

[ you: i mess you sofucjng much ]

[ you: pls so im sorry for everything ]

[ you: pleese baby pls talk to me ]

- Unread message -

[ y/n <3: come over, we’ll talk about it ]

megumi stares at the notification. it felt as if his heart skipped several beats. he opens the message and continues to stare. his fingers move on their own as he types a response and he doesn’t even think about it before hitting send.

[ you: on my way ]

omg can u guys tell im not good at coming up with endings :sob:

#megumi x reader #megumi x y/n #megumi x you #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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lemoniiiiiii · 3 months ago

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things never change (pt. 2)

(post-prison!warren lipka x fem!reader) in where you cross paths with an old friend

content: angst, some fluff? maybe?

a/n: this was really fun to write in the most awful way my heart is sobbing. but i've always wanted to write a post-prison!warren fic so.. yay?

part 2 requested by @tracysent!

(here's part 1 if you haven't read)

when warren had left your unconscious body on the couch he returned to ghosting you. you thought you'd never see him again, until about a year later when your mom called you and told you to put on the news. "4 college students arrested for attempted robbery at transylvania university" was the headline. the story dominated local channels for weeks.

ultimately, your father never pressed charges against warren for stealing his painting. the monet remained exactly where it had been, still the centerpiece of the room—though now sporting a few dings and dents on the frame. nothing you couldn't replace without him noticing.

when your father heard the news, he practically jumped for joy.

"i told you that boy was nothing but trouble!" he exclaimed, his hands planted firmly on his hips as the screen showed four figures in orange jumpsuits walking out of the courthouse. "i'm glad he got out of your life when he did. couldn't imagine what it would've been like if, god forbid, he had gotten you wrapped up in something like this."

warren had already broken your heart twice. this time, he completely shattered your sense of self. did he ever care about you? had he only gotten close because you were well-off? or was it that the painting on the wall, the dream of quick riches, was just so much more enticing and valuable to him than you were?

you had talked to him about it before... dreams. warren fantasized about a life, outside of kentucky, maybe starting on a yacht in the bahamas and then traveling the world. it seemed so outlandish from the empty parking lot you were sharing a joint in, but you admired his ambition. to think you would've followed that idiot anywhere he went. hell and back. anything he would do, anything he went through, you would've been by his side. but now the reality was clear: your relationship was a one-way street that went miles on.

even though that night he had told you that he missed you, that he loved you while you lay underneath him. it was all just a mental diversion. a way to keep you docile while he served the only person he loved: himself.

it took years to put yourself back together, to trust again, to believe that someone could love you without an ulterior motive.

then that near decade of work— therapy, long conversations with friends, countless nights of self-reflection— was put to the test in one moment.

"..y/n?"

you looked up from your laptop, startled. there, standing before you in a philadelphia café, was none other than warren lipka. his long hair, once wild and untamed, was now brushed back, though a few loose waves still escaped from behind his ears, giving him that same effortlessly disheveled look you had once found so endearing. he had grown a short beard, the kind that hinted at maturity but still carried a touch of the boyish charm you remembered. despite the years that had passed, his face was almost exactly as you remembered—those sharp, familiar features that had once been the center of your world.

especially that damn smile of his.

"mind if i sit?"

you nodded, motioning to the chair across from you. part of you wondered if you were hallucinating. after all, with work, you hadn't been getting much sleep lately.

"i almost didn't come over, you know—didn't think it was you," he admitted, taking a seat. "but you know what tipped me off? that necklace."

you looked down at the delicate silver necklace, the one your grandmother had given you on your 16th birthday. the pendant, a small locket engraved with intricate floral designs, had once been her most cherished possession. when she placed it around your neck, she had told you stories of her youth, of love lost and found, of the strength she had needed to build a life on her own. she had smiled at you, her eyes filled with pride and warmth, and said, "this is yours now. a reminder that you're never truly alone, no matter where life takes you."

after she passed, the necklace became more than just a piece of jewelry. it was a tangible connection to her, to her wisdom and her love, something that kept you grounded when the world felt too overwhelming. you took a vow to never take it off for any reason, except to clean it. to you, it was as much a part of you as your own heartbeat.

you had shared this with warren one night, during one of your midnight dates. about your grandmother, about the promise you’d made to yourself regarding the necklace. it wasn’t a story you shared with many people, and when you spoke, you did so almost absentmindedly, not expecting him to truly listen. but he did.

"when did you…?" you started to ask, unsure how to finish. no one had told you warren had been released.

"almost three years ago," he replied, looking down at the table. "did seven years and some change."

"wow…" the word slipped out before you could stop it. warren, who had valued his youth so much and feared wasting his life away, had lost the entirety of his 20's just like that. the fact that he had come out on the other side seemingly unscathed was astounding.

as the conversation continued, you found yourself slipping back into an easy rhythm with warren, the years of distance and pain seeming to fade with each exchange. he told you about how he had decided to go back to school for filmmaking. it was a surprise, but also somehow made perfect sense. warren had always been drawn to storytelling, whether it was through his wild, grandiose dreams of the future or the way he could captivate an entire room with a well-spun tale.

“it’s funny,” he said, leaning back in his chair, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. “after everything, i realized i wanted to create something that actually mattered. something that could make people feel, you know? i guess sitting in a cell for years gives you a lot of time to think about what you really want to do with your life.”

you nodded, genuinely impressed by his determination. “filmmaking suits you, warren. i can see you doing great things with it.”

“thanks, it’s been a journey, but i’m excited to see where it leads.”

when the conversation shifted to your career, warren listened intently as you shared how you had built a successful career in business consulting. you explained how you had worked your way up, navigating the corporate world with determination and a relentless drive to succeed. you spoke of the challenges you faced, the late nights, the difficult decisions, and the satisfaction of seeing your efforts pay off. it wasn't quite what you imagined for yourself all those years ago but you were happy with what you had.

“yeah, i could tell you were a big shot,” warren grinned. “there was never a doubt in my mind that you wouldn’t be.”

“thanks…” you replied, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

there was a brief pause, and you noticed warren’s expression shift to an almost hesitant look. he leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking onto yours in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

“can i say something?” he asked, his voice softening with a sincerity that was almost disarming. “might be crossing a line, but i have to say it… you look just as fucking beautiful as the last time i saw you.”

the world stood still, frozen, as you processed his words. you felt your breath catch, your pulse quicken as you searched his eyes for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was a raw honesty that left you momentarily speechless.

“warren…” the way he was looking at you, as if no time had passed at all, threw you for a loop.

"i know, i know," he chuckled, looking down as he fiddled with a sugar packet. "don't want to get myself in trouble with your husband—or wife… whatever…"

"i'm… actually single…"

warren stopped fiddling with the sugar packet and looked up at you, his gaze steady. he didn't move his head, just stared at you for a long moment before shifting in his chair, his eyes drifting off to the young couple seated nearby. you had noticed them too when you first walked in.

"make sense kinda... you're genuinely too good for anybody, anyway. deserve way better than what most people have to offer.."

a heavy silence settled between you and the sounds of the bustling café faded into the background, except for the laughter of the couple nearby. their easy, carefree joy was a stark contrast to the weight of the moment you were sharing with warren. each second of silence felt like an eternity, amplifying the pain and confusion swirling inside you.

finally, warren broke the silence. "i’m sorry—and i know that when i say that word, you have no reason to believe me—but i am. it haunts me, the things i've done… leaving you there…" you could see the struggle in his eyes, the guilt that had clearly been gnawing at him for years.

you wanted to brush it off, to protect yourself from the flood of emotions that his words were stirring up. "that was 10 years ago," you replied quickly. "no need to bring it up."

warren shook his head, not ready to let it go. "i just wanted you to know that i loved you...i tried to convince myself that i didn’t… that what we had wasn’t real. i hadn’t even planned on seeing you again until i got desperate for cash and wanted to skip town. my biggest mistake was leaving your bed that night."

his words hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over the walls you had so carefully built around your heart. tears began welling up in your eyes, the sting of emotions you thought you had buried long ago. you turned your head, looking away, desperately trying to compose yourself, to regain the control that was slipping through your fingers.

but then, warren's hands gently clasped around yours. the warmth of his touch was both familiar and jarring, sending a shiver through you. you had thought you were over this—over him. you had convinced yourself that seeing him again would be nothing more than a footnote in your life, a chance to hear him out and move on, finally closing that chapter for good.

but all those preparations, all the mental rehearsals of how you would remain composed, indifferent even, had crumbled the moment he smiled at you. that damn smile, the one that had always been able to disarm you, to make you forget all the reasons you should be guarded.

as he held your hands, you could feel the sincerity in his grip, the way his fingers tightened slightly, as if he was afraid to let go, afraid that you might slip away again. the flood of memories, the good and the bad, rushed back, and the tears that had been threatening to spill finally broke free. you blinked rapidly, trying to push them back. you didn’t want him to see you like this, to know just how much he still affected you.

warren’s gaze softened as he watched you, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “but i need you to know that i never stopped thinking about you. even when i tried to convince myself that it was over, that we were done… i couldn’t let go. i still can’t.”

part of you wanted to pull away. but another part, the part that had loved him so fiercely all those years ago, wanted to hold on, to see if maybe, just maybe, there was still something left to salvage.

"i don't know if i can do this again... i- i hear you... i believe you it's just-"

“i understand,” he said quietly. “and i don’t expect you to just forgive me, or even give me a second chance. i’ve made too many mistakes for that. but… i want to try. i want to make things right. even if that means starting over, from scratch, just as friends.”

“friends,” you repeated, testing the word on your tongue. it felt strange, almost foreign, to think of warren as anything other than the boy who had broken your heart. but maybe, just maybe, this could be a new beginning—a way to heal, to move forward without being shackled by the past. "i'd like that"

"me too."

#warren lipka #evan peters #evan peters fandom #american horror story #evan peters x y/n #warren lipka x reader #american animals #evan peters fanfic #warren lipka fanfic

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koiir · 1 year ago

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WANNA BE LOVED (I KNOW ITS OVER)

‧̍̊˙· I’m which they aren’t over you, based on the lyrics from Like

Characters - Scaramouche, Kazuha, Xiao, Albedo, alhaitham, Venti, x gn!reader

Genre - angst without comfort

Cw: not proofread, mentions of breaking up/ fights, lyric refers to reader as “pretty woman” in Albedo parts but other than that reader is gn, reader is an actor in ventis part

“On every picture you post, a guy I’ve never seen before likes it who is he / Oh right, I’m not your boyfriend anymore”

Scaramouche never thought he was be in this position, ever. The grip on his phone enough to shatter glass, he stared at the account of the one liking every, single, post of yours. He was basically stalking the account, something he did in the past. But now with one difference.

“Seriously? This dude can’t seem to get enough of you.” He said as you giggled. The jealousy was evident on your boyfriend as he clicked on the male’s account.

“Sucks for him, I’m yours.”

Not anymore, cause he shattered something as fragile as glass. The remnants draining him of his worth as he was forced to recall the night he called it quits, only to become the one wishing for you back. Wanting to be yours, not a stranger who was only able to see the online persona you created.

Yet Scaramouche is greedy, so he’ll take in the post from your account, wishing to take the photos you post rather than someone else. Someone who is now in his position, he was now the dude liking your post wishing to be recognized.

“You’re not even mine anymore / but why do I feel like you’re being taken away”

The way Kazuha has been to an endless number of destinations, yet the feeling he has never goes away. He looks back, feeling the familiar presence of the one that was once his. Ah, a leaf. The leaf now on the floor, Kazuha always recalled the times in which you would catch a leaf for him.

So as time passes, why does this feeling go away? It’s not like he’s moved on, Kazuha knows that by now he should have, but he can’t shake the uncertainty of “what if”. If the day comes he encounters you again, he would run to your side, pleading even if it was hopeless. For once he will chain himself down to you and only you, something that he should have done if it meant he could still be with you.

Each step that is taken Kazuha only hopes he will receive a sign from above, one that will lead him back to you. A single breeze was all it took for him to turn back, only for him to encounter a scene that would break all hope. You and another. Happy as ever, you smiling like the sun shines down on the earth. The smile Kazuha once had the pleasure of witnessing each day.

Now the smile would haunt him, the atmosphere suffocating him as he watched. Wishing to be the one next to you, not a witness who would never see you again.

“I swallow the curse’s that rose up to my throat / and again today I press the like button… shit”

Xiao can feel the way his throat hurts, the way his words are caught in his throat as he specks. Trying to hide his feelings, wishing to let out what he has been holding in for what feels like forever. He sighs, knowing that things will never go back to the way they were. Xiao wishes for a time where he can start over, grow a relationship back up with you, and let it blossom rather than whither up like those flowers he gifted.

He taps twice, his mind far from reality as he notices what he did. Xiao told himself he would stop, he would unfollow you and never dare to look back on your account, but xiao couldn’t do it. Not when he can get the pleasure of seeing your smile on screen, even if miles away from you. He has to the chance to look back at the picture, whenever and wherever.

Almost like he has a piece of you left, right? But that feeling is washed away as Xiao now goes into deeper thought, the feelings build up to consume his mind of the same thoughts he has over and over, each day.

The feeling of knowing you have lost and will never get another chance like it, never get you back. His only option left is to continue what has been the cause for his aching heart, or let go for good. Xiao ponders these two options, the second option should be the most logical answer, the one thing he should have done a while ago. But xiao can’t help the way his gaze natural wonders of to your account, wanting to hit the “message” showed on your account.

“After we broke up you look better / pretty woman, yeah yeah yeah yeah”

Stuck in a trance, Albedo couldn’t get a single thing down. His creativity stumped as he pondered on what to do next. The sketch book empty, waiting to be filled with new moments that would fill his heart with happiness. Just like the one he hid away, one filled with sketches reminding him of you and him. He hoped that this book could bring something new, anything to forget the past. But once he looked, those thoughts were pushed away.

Albedo stuck in the scene ahead of him, you. It seems you haven’t noticed the blonde as he was trapped in the confines of the cafe, yet albedo could never forget his muse. He could never bare to look away. The scene filled him with a bittersweet feeling, the way his day got just a little bit better seeing you once more, only to be reminded of the one he lost. The smile adorning your face, the one he once saw every day. That smile now for someone else, along with the gaze you held for them.

Albedo always was fond of the beauty you held, it was only natural that you were the muse for his paintings. Now with that gone, he couldn’t get a single thing down on the paper waiting to be used. It was dangerous, to torture himself by creating sketches of you. To be reminded of the past, even if they were placed in a place of seclusion. Albedo could never get the peace he wanted knowing that was his only way to remember you by. Yet he continues once more, his pencil moving as if it was the most natural thing, beginning to draw you once more.

Albedo stopped, knowing that something was missing. He knew he shouldn’t, he should have stopped. But he looks up, only for his heart to break into pieces. Two hands enclosed, holding one other with a smile on your face. Maybe that was the missing piece. You soon left his vision, once more.

The paper now stained with tear, it near the eye of yours. Almost mocking him of the time he was the cause for your tears. The tables now turned, as he was the one tearing up, one able to make its escape onto the paper. Albedo wished to continue, but he had his answer. You moved on, so why should he still hold on. He got up in order to leave, not before placing the paper into the confines of the trash bin, leaving for the exit. Leaving a piece of the past behind.

“Because of them I backspace into the memories on the word that has stopped / so why am I still stuck in those times”

The night is silent as alhaitham works without care, throwing himself into the piles of despair. In which he can’t find the peace he’s been longing for, wishing for once it could all be a dream and it could be a reality once more. He should know better though, for his smarts it seems he can’t accept the fact that he’s lost you and will in fact not get the chance for you to be his again. The chances of them being zero.

The moments in which you bask in his warmth, the way you would ramble while lowering your voice in order not to disturb him, it all remains stuck in his mind. These memories not once being unnoticed by him. He gripped the files he held in the palm of his hands, the angry growing in him. Just like that night, the night where he broke you. In which he was the cause for you leaving.

He grows cold, realizing the way his angry was the cause for everything. If only he would have stayed calm and collected, just like everyone views him, maybe things would have gone different. He thought he was being rational, thought he was in the right, then why did it end? It should have been logical for you two to stay together, but it seems that the emotions took over and won in this battle.

Alhaitham lets go, collects himself and sits in thought. Calming himself, hoping that maybe he can grow enough to win you back. Just as he grows, you will only grow further. Maybe soon he will be able to catch up, but for now he has to resort to the silence that fills him with sorrow. The silence being a reminder of the nights shared with you as he watched you slumber in bliss.

“Your mind is like a guillotine cutting me mercilessly, but I sneak up behind / as a goblin and watch your daily life”

Venti is in thought as he thinks of how his life could have been different, if he had chosen the path he longed for. But he couldn’t bear the thought of ever encountering you again, so he was whisked into an industry that he had as what others told him “natural talent” for.

“Can you imagine, us… playing the lead roles in a movie!” His smile bright as the sun shines upon you two. “Yeah, and I hope things take a turn for the worst and you somehow end up dying.”

“UGH [NAME]”

“I’m kidding! Hey-“ you caught off guard as he attacked you, tickling you in the process. Laughter being the only thing heard as you two dreamed of a life where you two would shine with one another.

But here venti is now, forced to watch you and your co-star being interviewed on your roles. The two of you being the main leads that would fall for one another, how he once wished to be you and him. He knew many actor’s who would fall for their co-stars, but he wished you wouldn’t be one of them. Maybe it’s just for the press, he thought. But venti knew better.

He could see the evidence on your face, the glint in your eyes that held love. The same could be seen on your co-star, the reporters asking questions on the relationship and others who loved you two together. It’s obvious you two looked good together, which is why it’s hurt so much. It seems like the only thing he hears is people gushing about the love between you two, how everyone knows of the relationship. How Venti wishes to be yours.

Venti loved his career, he really did. It might not have been his first option but he had always had a passion for music. But what if he still went with the first option? The option that could have fixed the two of you? The option that could have gotten him to be yours, once again. But maybe that wouldn’t have happened, maybe you still would have moved on from the past on focus on the bright future ahead of you.

Maybe it was for the better, but either way Venti will never be able to fix the ache in his heart when he encounters your face on every screen he faces. The face of someone he lost, someone who will never be his.

A/n: when I was writing albedos it somehow didn’t save and so I had to start over with his… but i like the way it turned out, anyways hoped you enjoyed the angst

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unhonestlymirror · 11 months ago

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I am horrified by how often I see people writing, "Well, we shouldn't take Holocaust into account when talking about Israel-Palestine war." Of course we SHOULD, and that's why:

"October 7 is getting rewritten and certain social media users are an active of the campaign to erase the atrocities.

I was barely awake on October 7th when news of the atrocities that were committed by Hamas began to trinkle in, horror by horror. With sleep still in my eyes, I had hoped it was a nightmare I could erase by burying my face in pillows and returning to slumber, but alas, reality was insistent. Hamas had butchered over 1,200 people, amongst them infants, pregnant women, the handicapped, and the elderly. Even dogs were not spared.

But Hamas didn’t just murder them in cold blood, they had tortured, raped, desecrated their bodies, and took hostages. Their depravity was limitless. And they were so proud of their crimes that they used GoPro cameras to record them, later releasing the sickening spectacles to the public as a form of psychological terror. Add to that the live streams, cell phone recordings, and CCTV camera footage, and you’ll probably have the most documented massacre in history—with a reported 60,000 video clips collected.

I’ve seen some of these videos, including those not circulating quite so widely in public. They will haunt me for the rest of my life—and that falls far short than the 47 minute “film” shown to select journalists and diplomats worldwide, a number of whom broke down and/or fell ill during the screening.

But as shocking as all of this deranged butchery was — which was entirely the intention — what stunned me in the aftermath is the world’s reaction.

Putting aside disputes of land and politics, it was jarring to hear such a blatant reframing of narrative. It started with calling Hamas the “resistance” and justifying the unjustifiable. A number of BLM chapters had put out “heroic” images of Hamas terrorists descending on parachutes. I half-expected them to release action figures of Hamas fighters too. Maybe they did?

And then came the "BUTs." Sure, some folks condemned Hamas, but it was always followed by a "BUT," justifying the unjustifiable. I've been asked, ad nauseam, "What would you do in their situation?" Well, my response remains steadfast: not commit random acts of murder, torture, and kidnapping. Call me old-fashioned. (For the record I’ve called many colorful words for my stance, but oddly that was never one of them).

It was a wake-up call for many, especially those of us in the global Jewish community. Overnight, the illusion of safety shattered, much like the dreams of anyone who's binge-watched a horror series alone at night. But now we were all collectively trapped in that nightmare, and couldn’t wake up no matter how hard with pitched.

The history of the Holocaust is taught in many schools around the world. “Never forget” and “never again” are sentiments that are echoed within that curriculum. Yet, while some might scoff at the persistent advocacy for Holocaust education, insisting that it’s hitting them over the head, a nationwide survey in 2020 reveals that the under-40 crowd seems to have missed the memo. Shockingly, one in ten respondents haven’t even heard of the word “Holocaust,” let alone being aware that as many as 6 million Jews perished in it.

Further, nearly a quarter of those questioned said they believed the Holocaust was a myth, had been exaggerated or that they weren’t sure. Meanwhile in Canada, one in five young people (under 34) either hasn't heard of the Holocaust or isn't sure what it is. And in Britain, one in twenty adults flat-out deny that it ever took place. Ah, the privilege of blissful ignorance.

Most who underestimate the number of Jews killed in Holocaust have neutral or warm feelings toward Jews.

But it's not just ignorance; there's an entire industry that has been propped up and dedicated to Holocaust denial, complete with books, “movies,” and groups. To make matters worse, alarmingly, fewer Holocaust survivors are around to share their firsthand accounts and counteract the flames of denialism.

Nearly half of the 1000 people surveyed had stated that they’ve seen Holocaust denial or distortion posts on social media or elsewhere online.

I’ve always thought that denials of genocide—such as the Holocaust —were something that happened over time, with history slipping away and being re-written.

However, I never expected to be observing this in real time.

While initially the so-called “resistance” was celebrated by a subset of society, this soon turned into full-fledged denials of Hamas’ actions on Oct 7. Despite overwhelming evidence in the form of videos captured and shared by Hamas themselves and shared on Telegram channels and elsewhere, I would read and hear people claiming that they had only targeted Israeli military. Absurd claims emerged using supposedly ‘leaked’ footage where an Israeli helicopter shoots at Nova music festival goers. That video was viewed over 30 million times on X alone. The video, which was actually originally shared by the IDF on Oct 9, was showing their attacks on specific Gazan targets—certainly NOT indiscriminate bombings of music festival attendees in Israel. (Here’s a great thread that details how this piece of disinformation spread and geolocation information that further confirms that the claim is fake).

I’ve heard countless denials of the rapes of women (and men), despite overwhelming evidence in the form of physical evidence, forensics, and a number of witness testimonies. Women’s rights groups, meanwhile, remained silent—thus offering a vacuum for denialists to fill. Proponents of “me too” also stayed silent. Worse, the University of Alberta Sexual Assault Centre’s director signed an open letter calling Hamas perpetrating “sexual violence” an “unverified accusation.” It took UN Women nearly two months to issue a lukewarm condemnation of the brutal attacks. “We are alarmed by the numerous accounts of gender-based atrocities and sexual violence during those attacks,” they wrote, following a letter writing campaign urging them to speak up. Better late than never though, right?

The roughly 40 dead babies claim was debunked as a lie. At least that’s what people on social media now declare as fact, citing a Haaretz investigation.

“Haaretz investigation EXPOSES all the ISRAELI LIES from October 7th just like I predicated (sic),” reads the post of one particularly large disinformation account.

These claims persisted despite Haaretz directly addressing that post and calling it “blatant lies” and insisting that it “absolutely no basis in Haaretz’s reporting.”

The denials continued regardless of the fact that a group of 200 forensic pathologists from all over the world had confirmed that babies were indeed murdered and that some babies were found decapitated, though it was unclear whether this was done before or after death. First responders also corroborated that they witnessed beheaded infants. Regardless of decapitation, these were babies, murdered.

The forensic pathologists also confirmed that humans were executed, bound and burned alive. Israeli police have over 1,000 statements related to the attack.

When some of the hostages were released, Hamas supporters claimed that the hostages enjoyed being held by them, that they hardly wanted to leave. That this was like a pleasant vacation for them, that’s all. Like sipping piña coladas by the beach. In fact, they would state that they were more concerned about their safety in Israeli hands. They even concocted stories of love affairs between a hostage who was shot in the leg and a Hamas captor. A sick and twisted take on reality where up is down, cats are dogs, and denial is truth. They dismissed the reality that many of these hostages watched their loved ones get murdered in front of them, and still had relatives being held in captivity. The hostages were also administered Clonazepam by Hamas, a mood-enhancing tranquilizing drug, before handing them over to the Red Cross, so that they would appear “happy.”

Meanwhile, the Yale Daily News published a correction of an opinion column stating that the “allegations had not been substantiated.”

The denials go on and on, and I can’t help but feel like I’m watching a version of Holocaust denial, except this time it’s happening in real time—not years after the fact. And this time, it has a Wi-Fi connection and a social media account.

The conditions for this were ripe. Moral relativism is why just several weeks ago, Gen Z embraced Bin Laden's 'Letter to America.' It has been building up for years across college campuses, a breeding ground for ideologies that support violent means to achieve political gains.

The perceived power dynamics play a role here too. In the eyes of many, the Israelis are seen as a superpower whereas the Palestinians, and by extension Hamas, are seen as underdogs. In their view, the underdog is always right because it is the victim, and the “power” is the oppressor. So how can the oppressor be a victim?

Israelis, despite the majority of the population being Mizrahi Jews, as well as 20% Arabs (who were also victims on Oct 7), have been framed as “white colonizers,” vs the Palestinians who are seen as “POC” in the context of this conflict. Never mind that Jews, including Ashkenazi Jews, can be traced back to the land through DNA, archaeological evidence, and historical documents.

An overall distrust for media is another factor, which has resulted in individuals taking the word of random influencer accounts as gospel over traditional media outlets. According to Gallup polls, Americans’ trust in media is near a record low. Only 34% of US adults have a “great deal” or “fair amount” of confidence as of 2022. This is a major hindrance to our sensemaking abilities.

And then, of course, there’s cognitive dissonance. When a group identifies so closely with the perpetrator and they commit heinous acts, confronting that fact happens to be uncomfortable. So, in an attempt to reduce that discomfort, they rationalize or deny the evidence. This means that they accept only evidence that supports their existing beliefs, while placing unreasonable demands on the other side.

But none of these factors would have gained as much traction if it weren’t for something that didn’t exist during the Holocaust: social media. This is the engine that helps drives this real-time historical revisionism and denialism. According to 2021 data from Pew Research, over 70% of Americans get their news via social platforms. A Reuters Institute report from 2023 found that 30% of respondents use social media as the main way to get their news.

We have a society that consumes sound-bites of information, both truth and lies (as well as lies based on grains of truth).

Social media algorithms—combined with human nature—tend to amplify outrageous untruths, which spread widely. Corrections, never make it as far as the original lie. They are just a faint hum.

Throughout the Israeli-Gaza war, we’ve seen AI generated images and bots used to paint a specific narrative—for evocative, emotional effect. But technologically sophisticatication isn’t a prerequisite for painting false narratives. Many “influencers” have taken to using existing images or videos and attaching misleading headlines to them—including sharing content that captures events in Syria while presenting it as taking place in Gaza. These networks of influencers have large reach, and can turn even the most blatant lie into a revisionist truth.

Researchers for Freedom House, a non-profit human right advocacy group, found that generally at least 47 governments have used commentators to manipulate online discussions in their favor, either via humans or bots. They’ve also recruited influencers to help spread false and misleading content, and have created fake websites that mimic actual media publications. Then there’s always Russia’s propaganda arm RT, and various other publications like Al Jazeera and Quds who have direct ties to Hamas and/or other Islamic regimes.

All of this has contributed to narrative confusion, and the erasure of unspeakable acts of brutality, and the denial of the facts of October 7, right before our very eyes.

If we cannot even share a common reality, how can have any hope of resolving anything?

“Never again” is happening now."

#jews #israel palestine war #hamas attack #russia finances hamas

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