#even though I'm writing him sad and crying

[4linos]

first steps, second chances

bang chan x fem!reader

synopsis/request: chan grapples with guilt after missing his son’s first steps, but a beautiful, unspoken connection during the following morning's moment makes him realize that the love between them is always present, no matter the timing.

wc: 2044

(a/n: i definitely see chan as a girl dad but i don’t know why i felt like writing him as a boy dad for this🤧.)

The day felt impossibly long. With back-to-back rehearsals, hectic tour preparations, and late-night meetings, Chan had little time to think, let alone rest. But no matter how busy his schedule got, he told himself and you that he'd be there when his baby boy took his first steps. It was a milestone that no parent, especially him, wanted to miss. He wanted to see it with his own eyes, to save the memory forever, not through a screen.

But life, as it often did, had other plans.

You sat on the couch, a few feet from your son, who was happily playing with his blocks. The little noises of his little fingers moving the pieces were reassuring, a gentle reminder of how important these early memories were. You watched his gaze shift, lingering on you as if he was considering what he should do next. He wobbled slightly, then attempted to push himself up, his small hands grabbing the carpet for support.

You knew. You felt it in your chest. This was it.

Your heart raced as you grabbed your phone and called Chan's number, pleading he'd respond in time. But there was nothing. His phone kept ringing, and you watched as steadied himself, balancing on his little feet for a moment before taking a tentative step toward you.

You didn’t even think twice.

You tapped the screen, recording the moment with shaky hands as your son took another wobbly step, then another. He was doing it. He was walking, and you were cheering him on, your voice trembling with pride and awe.

"Look, baby, you're doing it! You're walking!" you whispered, half-laughing, half-crying, capturing the magic of it.

You ended the video quickly, wanting to keep the moment just for you, even though part of you wished more than anything that Chan had been there. But he’d catch up, you told yourself. You’d share it with him when he called back.

It wasn’t long before your phone buzzed again. You saw his name flash across the screen, and you answered, smiling through the bittersweet weight in your chest.

“Babe, where were you? He just..he just took his first steps,” you said, trying to hide the sting of disappointment.

You could hear the panic in his voice, the way it broke with guilt. “No, no, no, I missed it? I-I wasn’t there?”

The weight of his words struck you hard. Chan was heartbroken, and you could hear his disappointment over the phone. "I'm really sorry, Y/N. I promised I'd be there. I should have been there."

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply to steady yourself. You didn't want him to feel this way, especially given how important the day had been for both of you.

"You didn't miss it, Chan. You didn't miss him. He will do it again. You'll see him walk in person soon. I know you will. And he knows you're there." But the sadness in his voice did not change. "I wanted to be there." "I should have been there, Y/N."

When Chan arrived home that evening, you could sense the weight of the day pushing down on him. His shoulders fell as he stepped in, and he didn't look like himself. He kissed you softly on the cheek, but not with the usual warmth. He was still disappointed, and his guilt was eating away at him.

You didn't say anything immediately away. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him, bringing him closer as you sat down on the couch. He nestled into you, the comfort of your presence the only thing that kept him grounded in that moment. His hand brushed through your hair, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He seemed tired and distant.

“I hate that I wasn’t there,” he muttered after a while, his voice low and strained.

You ran your fingers along his jaw, tracing the lines of his face. “I know, Chan. I know. But it’s okay. He’s okay. We’re okay.”

“But I promised.” His voice cracked slightly. “I said I’d be there when he took his first steps. I wanted to see it, Y/N. I wanted to be there with you.”

“I know. And I want you to know that he’s still going to keep walking, and you’re going to be there for all the other milestones. Every one of them. You’re going to be there for his first word, his first soccer game, his first date or whatever it is. He’s not going to remember that you weren’t here today. He’ll remember how you were there every other day.”

Chan's breath hitched, his chest tightening. “But it feels like I missed something so important.”

“You didn’t. You didn’t miss anything. He knows his dad loves him. We both know how much you care. This one moment this tiny moment it doesn’t define everything else you do.”

He sat there for a moment, processing your words, but you could tell it didn’t make him feel any less upset.

“Look, I have something for you,” you said softly, reaching for your phone and pulling up the video you’d taken earlier. “I recorded it, so you could see it. He took his first steps, just like we thought he would.”

Chan’s face softened, though there was still that pained edge to it. He took the phone from your hands, and his gaze immediately softened as the video began to play. His eyes traced the small figure of your son, wobbling but determined, taking his first steps toward you, and then the laughter, the cheers from both of you as you praised him.

"You're walking! You're walking!" you could hear yourself saying, the happiness in your voice almost breaking through the tension.

A silent tear rolled down Chan's cheek as he watched. "I can’t believe I missed it... But I'm so proud of him. So proud of both of you."

You gently cupped his cheek and wiped away the tear. "And he's really proud of you. He will always know how much you love him and how badly you wanted to be here." He leaned toward your touch, letting out a tiny sigh. "I just wanted to see it with my own eyes." To hold onto it." "I know," you said quietly, kissing his forehead. "You will. We'll have more moments like this. Together."

He nodded, his breath steadying as he drew closer and buried his face in your neck. You embraced him tighter, understanding that the weight of missing moments was heavy at times, but that true love would always be there to compensate.

The next morning began peacefully, with soft light flowing through the curtains as the world outside came to life. The air in the room felt lighter now, as if the night had allowed both of you to let go of some of the weight that Chan had carried the night before. He had fallen asleep beside you, holding you close as if to ground himself after the emotional intensity of the previous day. You could sense he was still upset, but his embrace was a little more relaxed and at ease.

As usual, your son was up and about, full of energy and wonder in his eyes. He'd been exploring slowly, creeping about the room and occasionally pausing to glance up at the two of you, as if seeking approval for each move. He was now on the floor, surrounded by his blocks, his little fingers enthusiastically placing them one on top of the other. Today, he moved more deliberately and with confidence, as if he had a purpose in mind.

You looked at Chan, who was still sitting on the floor in his pajamas, attempting to get ready for the day ahead, his mind already worried about rehearsals and work. He had said that he would need to leave very soon, but for the time being, he was focused on being present, sitting cross-legged across from your son.

You observed as your son glanced up at Chan, his gaze fixed on the form of his dad as if he knew exactly where he wanted to go. The small legs tightened and wobbled, and then, without hesitation, he pushed himself up again, balancing on his feet for a brief moment. You held your breath when he took his first step. But this time, it wasn't for you. This time it was toward Chan.

"Chan, look," you said quietly, pointing to your son, but he had already noticed. His eyes widened in awe, and he let out a gentle sigh as he watched their baby take a few shaky steps towards him. Your son was staggering slightly, his arms swinging in quest of balance, but his drive was unmistakable. He took another step, then another, and his face lit up as he got closer to his dad. He then reached Chan.

There was a beat of silence, a frozen moment in time, before your boy collapsed into his dad's lap with a giggle, his small hands gripping the fabric of Chan's pants as if he knew precisely who he had approached.

Chan's heart flooded with emotion as he held up his baby, holding him high and gently twirling him around. His eyes were filled with uncontrollable excitement as he laughed, his voice trembling slightly under the weight of his tremendous pride. "You did it! You walked to Daddy!" Chan muttered with wonder, his voice full of emotion.

The tiredness of the previous day seemed to fade as he held his son close, inhaling the scent of his baby's hair and feeling the warmth of his little body on his chest. It was a moment that moved beyond the tension, guilt, and frustration. This. it was everything.

You sat back on the couch, your heart filled with love for both of them. There was nothing better than seeing your two favorite people in the world experiencing an absolutely perfect moment. The disappointment of missing his first steps was no longer relevant. This was their moment, and it meant everything.

Chan stared at you, a warm smile creeping across his lips. His eyes gleamed with astonishment and relief. "I can't believe he walked to me," he said quietly, as if still absorbing it.

You nodded, a smile forming on your own lips. "He knew who he wanted to go to," you teased lightly, but it was apparent that the burden of the day before had been shifted away from him. His bond with his son was stronger than anything else, and it had always been apparent.

Chan leaned down and kissed his son's forehead before returning your eyes, his expression softening. “Thank you. Thanks for being so understanding last night.” You shrugged lightly and gave him an understanding grin. "We both know how much you love him. He has been waiting to walk toward you, haven't you, little one?" You cooed at your son, who gurgled happily while still cuddled in his father's arms.

Chan smiled, brushing his fingers gently over your son’s cheek, his heart filled with gratitude. "I’m glad I’m here. I won’t miss another moment, I swear." You chuckled, your voice light. "I know, Chan. But you don’t need to worry so much. Every moment we share is important. He knows you love him, and you’re going to be there for all the other milestones. Just like you promised."

As Chan looked at you, a peaceful smile stretched across his face. “Yeah, I’m learning that,” he admitted, his voice warm and filled with a quiet contentment. “I guess sometimes I just need a reminder.”

With a final kiss on your son's head, he pulled him closer, clutching the small body against his chest as if to protect and adore him in just a moment. The steps may have been small, but their significance was huge. Chan recognized that, while he might not always be present for every tiny moment, the quality of the ones they shared was what counted most.

You reached for Chan's hand and softly squeezed it as you leaned into him. You could tell that the weight of the day before had finally been removed. For the time being, all that mattered was the present moment: a father and son, their bond becoming stronger with each single step.

(❌proofread)

//

masterlist

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Well, at least Fukuzawa got his wish granted, I guess.... he's finally inside Fukuchi <3

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

me: i will not think of more angst today

me: *listens to For Riddles, For Wonders*

me: well mission failed then!

[mad-hunts]

after hearing what jervis had to say, although it was an impulse he didn't want to give into, all jack could do was turn his face downwards. the act of relating to someone saying something like that about themselves and being able to empathize with them — it made his throat sting, as jack had drawn up the proper dosage for someone of jervis's size of both meds. the pain-reliever was injected into the IV first before he had to stop.

jack still wasn't looking at the other while he spoke to him, ❝ that's not true. i may not know you personally, but your life is valuable. if you spend enough time around people who treat you as if you're just a bother to them, though? you start to believe stuff like that in my personal experience. ❞ it was only when he was finished with having the cyclizine (the anti-vertigo medicine) join the other meds in his IV that he finally looked up. and directly at jervis, too, while squeezing the bag of it. why would he be asking for ketamine?

jack might not be so good at remembering all of the pharmaceuticals his dad just hoped he would memorize, but he knew that ketamine was pretty notorious for causing hallucinations. shaking his head was an almost instantaneous reaction once he recalled something and tried to keep his tone light-hearted. ❝ no, i'm afraid we don't have any of that here. what you really need is food anyways; your body seems to be running off of just hopes and dreams right now, after all. no offense, ❞ jack smiled a bit sheepishly at that before turning his back to jervis.

deciding to just get it over with, he then disposed of the needles in the sharps container in the room once his feet had successfully carried him there. this allowed jack a moment to drop the smile he'd put on and stare at the wall in confusion. because even though it wasn't really his business to ask jervis about the ketamine, in his opinion, it was still perplexing. this was of course after jack had given the man the washcloth he'd carried with him. he supposed now that he'd learned a bit too much about nico, that jervis was now the person he was wondering about.

and i say this because he seemed different. not in a bad way, but from an emotional standpoint. the rest of jack's family always seemed so reserved at the best of times. then unfeeling, at the worst. but here jervis was seemingly intentionally trying to connect with jack. it made him feel less like an outsider than he usually did, which he was thankful for. jack only blinked at the idea of lewis carroll also being a mathematician. he honestly never would've guessed he had both an analytical and creative mind. that was just further evidence that it was easy for people to get swept up in seeing only one facet of a person, jack supposed.

whoever jervis's wife might've been, she must've been smart. a small smile tugged at his lips as the other talked about her liking for puzzles and wanting to pursue different intellectual challenges. jack decided to only ask him a short question, then, ❝ it sounds like you knew her like the back of your hand. how long were you two together? ❞ the smile that was on his face soon dissipated just like that, however, when the topic of miscarriages was brought up. oh... that was devastating. jack didn't even know what to say to that.

he turned his attention to his tarot deck due to being at a complete loss as to what he should say. jack's breath caught in his throat at the apology, nodding as a way of saying 'thanks.' ❝ yeah. i'm sorry too, honestly. ❞ that felt like the best way to convey his feelings about it at that point. it wasn't that he was bitter about it, but saying 'it's okay' never felt right to him. jack lifted up the table and chair one by one to move them directly next to jervis's bedside. and then, it felt as if his heart was being squeezed. ❝ we were. julien was always looking out for me and although i was three years younger than him, i always tried to look out for him. ❞

jack spread out all of the cards in a fan-like pattern with one hand upon the table. he cleared his throat to try to maintain his composure as he said, ❝ i try to, ahh, talk to him sometimes even though he's not here. which does strangely help. and allowing myself to feel all the things that come with grief, then letting them go has been like... going from being swallowed by the waves in a shipwreck to surviving one. ❞ jack blinked up at jervis, smiling briefly before running his hand along the cards.

❝ while we've got time to spare, do you want me to read your past, present, and future? it could be therapeutic. ❞

“Both. Please. Although, you needn’t worry about me fainting; I’m not worth the trouble or the concern.”

Jervis folded his arm across his eyes; counted the seconds as he tried to focus on his breathing. The five senses technique wouldn’t do him much good with his present state, as erratic as his thought process currently was; as battered and muggy as his body felt.

“Maybe even a dash of ketamine, if it’s possible? Though I understand if that’s something you don’t have on hand.” A joke at his own expense; pitch-black, crashing and burning.

White walls, white ceiling, white floor. Everywhere, the gleam of white. The scent of antiseptic choking like mothballs. Good old Vitamin K, thin and watery. Enough pills forced down his throat to incapacitate a warhorse. Which will it be today, Tetch, IV or up your nose?

Not entirely a joke, either, if we were being completely honest here. But the boy didn’t need to know that. Pathetic. As though you weren’t wretched enough… get over yourself. Are you that much of a coward?

He didn’t want to look at Jack’s face, couldn’t fathom how the boy would possibly react. Didn’t want to consider it.

Instead, he accepted the washcloth with a faint, grateful hum and carefully dabbed at his mouth, blotting away every bit of blood he could taste. It almost reminded him of how Alice would use sponges to wipe away errant streaks of paint on her canvases—

Jervis cut the thought off before it could finish maturing. It was a wonder those mental shears hadn’t blunted, with how much he’d been using them of late… He shifted his focus on the comments the other made about the Carroll quote. A very faint grin quirked the side of his face; blink and you’d miss it.

“Correct… though I suppose it’s just a matter of perspective, really. Carroll was also a mathematician, but not many people outside academia tend to think about or focus on that particular facet of his legacy. Quite brilliant… geometry, linear and matrix algebra…” He moved his arm, gazed at a hairline crack in the ceiling.

“My wife would frequently read and re-read his essays, after I introduced them to her.” Pale, scarred fingers swept his sweaty hair off his brow. “She was mad for Sudoku and logic puzzles, always looking for ways to challenge herself intellectually…”

Jervis straightened the chain from where it tangled around his neck, carefully tucked it back beneath his shirt; out of sight but not out of mind. “… she’d had two miscarriages, before our daughter was born; I guess the equations and the rules were her way of channeling it; all the pain and sadness and self-blame…”

His voice trailed off again, and he shrugged. There was no point to any of this; he hoped Jack had enough sense to just dismiss it as delusion or fatigue-induced rambling, and ignore it all. He couldn’t rightly say why his thoughts turned in that direction, and he certainly wasn’t looking for any sympathy or pity. He could barely keep his own eyes open, as it was. But there seemed to be an air of warmth and easiness around Jack; in sharp contrast to his sister and father.

In any case, Jervis’ attention diverted as Jack’s shell bracelet rattled softly around his wrist. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he murmured; nothing in his tone facetious or contrived. Merely a sense of pure, genuine empathy embroidered those four words; infusing them like a cloud of purple mist.

He let out a soft breath and shook his head slightly. “Did you have a close bond?” Thoughts of his uncle Stephen and father, Simon, danced in his mind; their uncomfortable silences and lengthy, strained strolls. Memories flickered like shadows, each one a reminder of the distance that had grown between them over the years.

More often than not, the air between them was thick with the lingering scent of pipe and cigarette smoke, enveloping them like a veil. Each moment felt like a thread in a tapestry woven with both love and resentment.

Two sides of the same coin… but then again, when was family ever perfect?

[kirammanswifey]

how arcane characters would deal with mental disorders x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: writing this felt like giving myself a warm hug, a comfort that i needed. if anyone reading this is going through or has gone through any of these disorders, i want to tell you that you are very brave because it is not an easy thing, so feel proud of yourself. i hope you liked this as much as i did. as i'm a psychology student, i felt very motivated and i hope that it was quite understandable and enjoyable. as you already know request are open ;)

P.S. i know the other option won in the poll on my profile, but i need more time to refine the ideas and make something high quality that everyone will love, which i’ll be posting tomorrow ;)

Viktor Depression

The world around you feels like a constant weight, a heavy blanket that wraps around you, not letting you breathe. You wake up each day with a sense of emptiness in your chest, as if a black hole is absorbing all your energy, your motivation, your ability to feel anything other than sadness and apathy.

It’s not that you don’t want to get out of bed; it’s that the simple act of moving a finger feels like a titanic task. Fatigue is your constant companion, a shadow that never leaves you. Things that once filled you with joy now seem distant, irrelevant, as if they belonged to a life that is no longer yours.

The dark thoughts are your constant whispers, reminding you that you’re not enough, that it’s all pointless, that there’s no way out. Sometimes, you cry without knowing why; other times, you want to cry, but even that you can’t do. You feel trapped in an invisible prison, with no strength to fight your way out.

Viktor watches you from the doorway of your room, his gaze soft and full of concern. He knows the weight of shadows well, although his are different. Silently, he approaches and sits on the edge of the bed, not invading your space, but close enough for you to feel his presence.

“I have a new project I’m working on,” he says in a quiet voice, trying not to break the fragile bubble of your world. “I thought maybe you could join me today. You don’t have to do anything, just be there. Your company always helps me think.”

He doesn’t pressure you. Viktor understands that words can be hard to find when your mind is clouded by depression. He knows that the solution isn’t to force you to feel better, but to be with you, to offer you a hand, a small step forward.

He gently rises and offers his hand, not expecting you to take it, but hoping that you’ll know he’s there, ready to support you when you’re ready. “The world can wait,” he murmurs. “But I’m here, whenever you want to come back.”

His patience is infinite, his understanding deep. Viktor doesn’t try to fix you, because he doesn’t see you as broken. He knows that depression is a battle you fight every day, and he’s willing to walk alongside you, every small step, every shared silence.

You look at his hand, then his face; he’s concerned even though he tries to hide it. You make a huge effort to get out of bed, and even though your body doesn’t cooperate at first, you manage. You take his hand and gently squeeze it; that’s the most affection you can give him right now, you’re exhausted.

“Let’s go,” you murmur, your voice hoarse and broken; it’s the first time you’ve spoken all day.

You’re sitting next to Viktor in his small workshop, surrounded by pieces of metal and unfinished prototypes. He’s explaining his latest invention, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. You feel a little better, enough to enjoy his company, and for a moment, a laugh escapes your lips when you hear one of his stories.

“Did you really say that to Heimerdinger?” you laugh, your eyes shining with a spark of life. It’s a small moment, but for Viktor, it’s like seeing the sun rise after a storm.

He smiles, pleased to have made you laugh. “Yes, and his face... It was certainly indescribable,” he replies with a softness that reflects his pleasure at seeing you enjoy yourself, even if just for an instant.

But suddenly, without warning, the laughter turns into a lump in your throat. The spark of joy fades as quickly as it came, and you find yourself trapped in a wave of overwhelming sadness. The tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you can’t stop them. The confusion in your eyes is evident, as if your body has betrayed the fleeting happiness you just felt.

Viktor notices immediately. He leans toward you, his expression turning serious, but his eyes remain warm and full of understanding. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t seek explanations that may be impossible to give. Instead, he moves a little closer, offering you his silent presence.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, his voice an anchor amidst your internal storm. “You don’t have to explain it. Just breathe.”

He offers you his hand, this time with more intent. You take it, feeling the warmth and firmness in his grip, a reminder that you’re not alone in this moment. You needed that contact. You needed to know that you could feel something other than sadness right now. Viktor doesn’t pull away, doesn’t feel uncomfortable. He knows that depression doesn’t follow rules, that it can strike at any moment, and he’s willing to stay with you, no matter how long it lasts.

“Do you want us to stay here?” he asks, his tone delicate. “Or we can walk a little, if that helps.”

His willingness to adapt to your needs wraps you in a sense of safety. Even though the tears keep falling, Viktor’s presence is a balm, a reminder that, even in the darkest moments, there’s someone who sees you, who understands you, and who’s willing to stay by your side.

“Just... stay here with me,” you say, letting yourself fall against his body, exhausted.

He caught you and wrapped you with care, it was a hug with the right amount of strength.

“Take your time, darling. I won’t go anywhere,” Viktor promised in a whisper, never stopping the caresses on your back.

And that was enough to make you feel less miserable.

Jinx Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

The echo of the explosions still resonates in your mind, even though years have passed since that day when your world crumbled. The night everything you loved was consumed by flames in an attack on the Undercity. The night you lost your family and were left alone, with the screams and the smell of smoke forever etched in your memory.

As you walk beside Jinx through the bustling streets of Zaun, everything seems normal, almost calm, until an explosion in the distance makes your heart stop. It’s a dry, loud sound, far too similar to the one you heard that night. Without warning, your breath becomes shallow, your lungs struggle to take in air, and an overwhelming sense of absolute panic takes hold of you.

Your body freezes, and it feels as if the world around you disappears. The crowd, the lights, even Jinx—all fade away, leaving you alone in that dark place where time doesn’t move. The ground beneath your feet seems to give way, and you feel yourself falling again into that abyss of the past.

"Hey, hey!" Jinx’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind. Her hands grip your shoulders, and her gaze searches for yours with desperation. "You’re not there, do you hear me? You’re here, with me."

Her words feel distant, but the warmth of her hands somehow anchors you, reminding you that you’re not alone. "But... the sound..." you murmur, barely audible, as tears start to fall down your cheeks. "It was the same... the same as that night."

Jinx guides you to a quieter corner, away from the noise, holding your hand firmly. "Breathe, hon, like we always do," she says softly, her voice tinged with controlled urgency. "Fill up those lungs, okay? Like we’re balloons."

You try to follow her instructions, but every time you close your eyes to concentrate, the images of that night hit you with renewed force. "It’s not working," you whisper, trembling. "It’s always there. No matter how much I try, it doesn’t go away. It doesn’t go away!" You scream in panic, the fingers of your hands stiffening, making them immobile.

The worry in Jinx’s eyes softens a little, but there’s something else there, something you can only describe as recognition. "That explosion... it reminded me of something too," she says after a moment, her voice quieter, almost a whisper. "I’ve been there, in that fucked-up place, where the ghosts never stop screaming."

Her words are like a key that opens the door to a deeper understanding.

She falls silent for a moment, gazing into the distance before refocusing her attention on you. "When I have my attacks, you’re always there for me, and I remember I’m not alone. That helps me a lot," she admits, a small, almost sad smile curving her lips. "And you’re not alone either, hon. We’re not broken, just a little bent. And here we are, bent together."

The hug she offers you is warm and firm, a tangible reminder that you’re not alone. You feel her strength, her determination, and something else: her own fear, her own struggle. "You don’t have to fight alone," she whispers, her voice a promise. "If you ever feel like you’re going to fall, we’ll fall together. And then, we’ll rise. Always."

You cling to her like a lifeline, letting her warmth and her words anchor you to the present, if only for a moment. "Thank you, sweets," you whisper, allowing yourself, for the first time in a long time, to feel that it’s okay not to be okay.

Vi Anxiety Disorder

The night drags you into the abyss of your mind, but you find no respite. Instead of waking softly to the day, you're trapped in pure panic. Your chest burns, each breath a lost battle. Your heart gallops wildly, as if trying to escape your chest. You are drenched in sweat, the sheets sticking to your skin, becoming yet another prison.

Your eyes snap open, the darkness of the room seems to close in on you, and the silence is deafening. The sensation of suffocation consumes you. You try to gulp down air, but it's as though your lungs have forgotten how to function. Your hands search for something, anything, to anchor you to reality, but all they find is emptiness.

The door swings open abruptly, and Vi stands there, alert, her eyes filled with concern. She doesn't need to ask what’s wrong; she knows instantly. She moves swiftly but carefully, approaching you without frightening you further.

"Breathe with me," she says gently, her hands finding yours, steady yet comforting. "Inhale through your nose... like this... and exhale through your mouth."

You try to follow her, but your body won’t cooperate. Your breath is shallow, frantic, as though every breath disintegrates before it even reaches your lungs. Tears begin to streak down your cheeks, mixing with the sweat.

"Vi... I can’t... I can't... I’m scared," you stammer, your words broken by sobs. Your mind is caught in a loop of terror, every thought spiraling downward, taking you further away from calm.

Vi sits beside you on the bed, her voice low and constant. "Don’t be afraid. Listen to my voice. I’m here with you, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you." Her tone is firm, anchoring you in the present, pulling you out of the tide of your own fear.

"But it hurts... my chest... I can't breathe..." Your body trembles, and your hands clutch desperately at her grasp. The feeling of control slipping away is overwhelming, leaving you feeling helpless.

Vi pulls you into an embrace, holding you close, offering her calm, her strength. "This is temporary. It won’t last forever," she whispers in your ear. "Trust me. Focus on me."

Slowly, very slowly, her voice cuts through the fog of your mind. You begin to breathe more deeply, following her rhythm, feeling how her presence stabilizes you, like a lighthouse in the storm. The pain in your chest begins to lessen, the pressure relents just a little, and your body starts to remember how to breathe without fighting.

Vi continues to speak, her voice a soft murmur, calming you with every word. "You’re strong. You have control, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now."

The tears still flow, but now they are tears of relief, not fear. "Don’t leave... don’t leave. I need you here," you whisper, your voice broken but sincere.

Vi strokes your hair, her other hand gently squeezing yours. "I’m not going anywhere, little doe," she says affectionately, kissing your forehead, tasting the salty remnants of your sweat.

You remain in her arms a moment longer, allowing yourself to rest, letting her strength hold you as you regain your own. Gradually, the panic fades, leaving only exhaustion and the certainty that Vi will always be by your side, no matter how dark the nights may get.

Caitlyn Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

The silence in the apartment is deafening. The only sound that breaks the stillness is the relentless ticking of the wall clock, its rhythm echoing in your ears like a hammer. You’re in the kitchen, eyes fixed on the glasses you’ve meticulously arranged in the cupboard. Each glass must be perfectly spaced, each one aligned to the exact same level. Symmetry isn’t just a preference—it’s a necessity. If something is out of place, you feel as though the whole world could collapse.

Your breathing is uneven, your chest rising and falling in quick succession. "One, two, three..." you murmur to yourself, counting each movement. Your hands tremble, but you can’t stop. You can’t stop. If you do, something terrible will happen. You don’t know what, but the certainty that it will be catastrophic clings to you like a shadow.

Caitlyn enters the apartment after a long day at work. Her expression shifts instantly when she sees you in the kitchen, trapped in your own ritual. She stops in the doorway, watching you with a mix of concern and sadness. It’s not the first time she’s found you like this, but each time, it hurts her as though it were.

"Darling?" Her voice is soft, as if afraid to shatter you. She steps closer, carefully setting her hat down on the table. "What are you doing?"

You don’t answer at first, your eyes still fixed on the glasses. "Almost done... just a few more minutes," you whisper, your voice trembling. You can’t stop. Every glass moved, every small adjustment is a battle between reason and irrational fear.

Caitlyn stops beside you, her eyes scanning the scene, seeing the perfect pattern you’ve created. "You don’t have to do this," she says gently, yet firmly.

Your hands freeze for a moment, but the urge to continue is too strong. "You don’t understand... if I don’t do it right, if they’re not perfectly aligned, something bad is going to happen." Tears begin to well up in your eyes, the pressure in your chest intensifying. "I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, but it’s like my mind... it can’t stop."

Caitlyn takes a deep breath, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder delicately. "You’re not crazy," she says, locking eyes with you. "I know this is hard, that your mind doesn’t give you peace. But you don’t have to face it alone. Let me help you."

You turn to look at her, your eyes filled with desperation. "I can’t stop, Cait. If I do, I feel like everything will fall apart. I can’t control what’s happening inside my head."

Caitlyn nods slowly, her gaze unwavering from yours. "I know, darling. And I know this won’t be fixed in a day. But I’m here, and I’m going to stay by your side. We’ll face it together."

Her words anchor you, a beacon in the storm that is your mind. Slowly, almost against your will, your hands begin to lower, moving away from the glasses. The fear is still there, a current running just beneath the surface, threatening to overwhelm you, but Caitlyn is beside you, her presence a reminder that you’re not alone.

"Breathe with me," she says, her voice soft and steady. "Inhale... exhale... together."

You follow her instructions, though your lungs seem to resist, full of anxiety. Caitlyn guides you, her hand never leaving your shoulder. "See? We’re doing it! You’re doing it!" She encourages, kissing your neck when she notices you’ve looked away from the glasses for five seconds. It was only five seconds, but Caitlyn knew it was a huge accomplishment, and she celebrated it.

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your muscles easing slightly. Your hands travel to Caitlyn’s waist, moving her so the glasses are no longer in your line of sight. You let your head fall against her chest, breathing in her scent. It’s so much better, especially when you start counting the beats of her heart.

"How brave my wonderful and glorious girlfriend is. I’m so proud of you," she whispered, her fingers weaving through your hair as she praised you.

"Cait, I love you so much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," you whisper against her warm chest, unwilling to leave that comforting refuge.

Caitlyn chuckles softly, and it feels like music to your ears.

"I feel the same way, darling," Caitlyn replied, gently swaying your bodies from side to side in a small rhythm.

You know that your compulsions won’t disappear, that the need for control will remain, but with Caitlyn, you feel like you can face it one day at a time.

Jayce Narcissistic Personality Disorder

The mirror in your room is your judge, jury, and executioner. Every imperfection is a sentence, every flaw a conviction. You spend hours in front of it, adjusting, retouching, trying to reach a perfection that always seems to slip through your fingers. Your heart beats fast, not from excitement, but from the constant fear that the world will see the cracks beneath your flawless facade.

Jayce enters quietly, his presence comforting and, at the same time, a threat. What will he think? Does he notice the imperfections you see? He steps closer, his gaze soft, but you feel the weight of his eyes as if he's scrutinizing every flaw.

"Love, it's late. Come to bed," he says in a calm voice, trying to distract you from your self-destructive spiral.

"Just one more moment," you reply without looking at him, your focus still on the mirror, searching for symmetry in your features, perfection in the unattainable.

Jayce sits on the edge of the bed, watching you. "You've been here for hours. You don't have to do this. You're beautiful just as you are."

His statement, though well-intentioned, feels like a white lie. "You don’t understand, Jayce," you murmur, your voice trembling with suppressed frustration. "If I’m not perfect, I’m nobody. I can’t let them see my flaws. I can't let… you see them."

Jayce stands, walking toward you carefully, as if approaching a flickering flame. "You don’t have to be perfect to be loved," he says, his words a whisper in the storm raging in your mind. "You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to me."

Your gaze finally meets his through the reflection. Tears fight their way out, but you can't allow such weakness. "It's not that simple," you whisper. "Every day, every look, every word, it’s all a test. And if I fail…"

Jayce places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes filled with compassion and infinite patience. "If you fail, I’ll be here to lift you up."

"And what if I’m not enough?" The question slips out before you can stop it, the insecurity behind your narcissism showing in all its rawness. "What if one day you realize you deserve something better?"

Jayce leans in, his forehead touching yours, a gesture so intimate it almost breaks you. "I deserve someone who loves me for who I am, not for what I pretend to be. And that’s exactly what you are to me. I don’t have impossible expectations of you. I just want you to be happy, to find peace in who you are."

The internal struggle within you is fierce. The fear of rejection, the desire for perfection, the need to be seen and admired, all mix together in a whirlwind that consumes you. But in Jayce's arms, for a moment, the noise silences. His love is not a chain, but a refuge, one that offers rest if only you can let yourself fall into it.

"How can you be so sure?" you ask, your voice broken but curious.

"Because I love you," he answers without hesitation. "And love isn’t about waiting for perfection. It’s about accepting every part of you, even the ones you think are flaws."

The tears finally make their way out, releasing something within you that has been held back for so long. Jayce holds you as you cry, whispering words of comfort, letting all the pressure, fear, and anguish flow out of you.

"You’re perfect," you whisper, your voice cracked but full of sincerity. In your mind, Jayce is the epitome of everything you don’t believe you are: strong, confident, unshakable.

Jayce smiles softly, his hand caressing your cheek, wiping away the tears still falling. "No, I’m just a man in love. A man who loves you madly." His voice is warm, filled with a tenderness that disarms you. "Why don’t you show me that precious smile of yours? Please, it would make me so happy."

His sweet words touch your heart, and the corners of your lips stretch on their own, forming a sad smile.

"Gorgeous," Jayce murmured, caressing your lips with his strong, calloused fingers.

"Flatterer," you reply with a more elaborate smile, your eyes still wet, but now with a different shine, one that reflects the spark of hope he’s ignited in you.

"I’m just stating facts. I’m a scientist, honey, so I can tell you that, from my perspective, it’s scientifically proven that you’re gorgeous," he commented wryly, a wit that made you laugh.

Jayce smiled and kissed your forehead, holding you firmly in his arms. Finally, you feel like you can breathe, like air is filling your lungs again without that constant weight on your chest.

Ekko Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)

The room is silent except for the soft hum of music playing in the background, but your mind cannot stop racing. Your thoughts scatter like arrows shot in every direction. You try to focus on something, anything, but it feels as though your brain is in a constant battle between the ideas that come and go. The light from the lamp flickers irregularly, and for a moment, you wonder if the bulb is about to explode. This makes no sense, you know that, but the unease lingers.

You quickly get up from the bed, taking a misstep, tripping over a chair you hadn’t seen, barely avoiding it. Your heart races. Everything is a series of chaotic jumps in your head, an endless torrent of thoughts that can’t follow a single path. You look at the desk, with papers scattered about—unfinished projects, ideas you can’t ground. Everything calls to you, but you can’t focus on anything.

Your hands tremble slightly as you grab the pen and begin to write down an idea that came to you, but before you finish the sentence, a new image flashes in your mind. You stop, leaving the pen on the desk and staring out the window. Something about the glow of the stars makes you think of something else. You can’t concentrate. Everything distracts you, even the small noises you used to never notice. It’s so annoying.

Suddenly, you feel the stress begin to accumulate in your shoulders. It’s not just the lack of concentration; it’s the sense of constantly running toward something without ever arriving. You try to finish a task, but more and more thoughts pile up, projects, things that need doing. Everything seems urgent, and nothing seems possible to complete. Anxiety settles in your chest.

You’re about to get up again when you hear the sound of the door opening behind you. Ekko enters the room, his calming presence is the only thing that makes you stop for a moment. He watches you in silence for a few seconds, noticing the frenzy of your movements. You hadn’t realized, but your breathing is irregular, and you’ve gotten up twice without purpose. Something isn’t right.

He watches you quietly, understanding the internal struggle you’re facing. He knows what this means, what it costs you every day.

“What’s going on? Why are you so worked up?” he asks, his voice soft but with enough authority to make you stop and listen.

Your eyes focus on a fixed point, but you can’t find the words to explain what you’re feeling. You don’t know how to put into words what’s happening. It’s like you’re trapped in a cycle of thoughts that never stop.

“My mind... it doesn’t stop moving,” you finally manage to say, almost in a whisper. “Every time I try to do something, it’s like something else distracts me. Nothing stays. Everything slips away.”

Ekko watches you silently for a moment, understanding the fight you’re facing. He knows exactly what this feels like.

“I get it, babe,” he responds, his tone firm but gentle. “I know your mind’s all over the place right now, but I promise we can do this one step at a time. We’ll focus on one thing at a time, no pressure. Sound good?”

The fact that Ekko is offering to be there, without judgment, brings you relief. You know that the impulsiveness you feel, the urge to move without a plan, is something that consumes you. Your mind jumps from one thought to another, and each of those thoughts feels like an urgent need, an immediate necessity. But at the same time, nothing makes sense. Everything is scattered and out of control.

“It’s just that...” your words fade into the air, unable to be completed. You feel trapped in your own body, in your own brain. You can’t stop, but you can’t move forward either.

Ekko gently places a hand on your shoulder, his touch calming. “How can we start?” he asks sincerely, not rushing you. “Tell me what you need.”

For a moment, everything seems to stop. The flood of thoughts quiets down, and for the first time in a long while, you can think clearly, even if it’s just for an instant. It’s not about having everything figured out right away; it’s about feeling that someone is there, willing to stand by you while you navigate through the mental whirlwind.

“I just... I don’t know how to do it without jumping from one thing to another,” you murmur, frustration and shame creeping into your voice. “I feel like everything’s overwhelming, and I can’t focus on anything.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Ekko replies, his tone calm and direct. “First, breathe. The first step is to breathe, and then we can start with just one thing. The rest can wait.”

You close your eyes for a moment and follow his words. You breathe deeply, slowly, trying to find the balance that always seems so hard to reach. Ekko is there, not rushing you, waiting for your mind to settle. With his help, little by little, you manage to focus on one small task, one that’s manageable enough not to overwhelm you. It’s just one step, but it’s a step toward calm.

“You don’t have to do it all right now,” Ekko says softly. “What matters is that you’re not alone in this. We’ll go step by step.”

You feel the knot in your stomach loosening, even though there’s still much to do. But at this moment, with him by your side, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you can find a way toward a little peace.

After hours of work and soft laughter, you’re sitting on the floor, with Ekko beside you, both looking at the pieces left to place in a puzzle. It’s almost complete, the pieces fitting perfectly, and though the hours have flown by, you feel lighter, the atmosphere quieter.

“One more,” Ekko says with a smile, holding up a piece in the air. He passes it to you, and together, you place it in its spot, completing the picture. The puzzle is done, and though it’s a small accomplishment, it feels more meaningful than it seems. Not just because of what you’ve completed, but because you’ve managed to feel centered, accompanied.

When you look at the drawing you had left unfinished, now finally complete, you feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Ekko helped bring to life the image that only existed in your mind, his hands working alongside yours, following every line with care.

“You did it,” Ekko says, his eyes shining with pride. “My girl is incredible.” He pulled you into his lap and kissed your forehead.

You look at him, your heart beating a little faster. The fatigue of the afternoon washes over you, but you don’t care. All that matters is that he’s here, by your side, and that, for once, you feel at peace. The air feels lighter, as if the space between you two has been reduced, softened by the stillness of the moment.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your words barely a whisper, but full of gratitude.

Ekko turns toward you, his expression softening. “Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. You’re the one who made it happen, not me.”

The way he looks at you, the way his presence has become part of your space, makes you smile. And, in a moment of impulse, without thinking too much about it, you move a little closer. He seems to understand it instantly, and before you can second-guess yourself, his lips brush against yours. It’s a soft kiss, no rush, no urgency, just a moment where words aren’t needed.

When you pull away, both of you stay there, looking at each other, the air between you charged with something that doesn’t need to be named. Ekko smiles, his eyes sparkling with that glint that makes you feel as though everything is right, as if the world, for a moment, is in its place.

“Everything’s okay now,” Ekko says softly, filling you with calm.

And in that instant, you believe him.

Silco Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

The air in Silco's office is thick with tension, as always. The sound of the bustling city echoes through the glass windows, but inside, everything is still, almost as rigid as the gaze Silco fixes on you. You're sitting across from him, feeling a familiar dizziness, as if everything is out of control and, at the same time, you're trapped in an empty space. A mix of confusion and anxiety courses through every fiber of your being.

Your hands tremble slightly, and although you try to control your breathing, each inhalation seems to sink you further into the internal chaos. The voices in your head blend together, demanding answers, claiming something you can't give. Silco watches you calmly, but it's a cold, calculated calm, as if everything that's going on inside you is a game he knows how to play.

You feel the emptiness consuming you, and yet an unbearable pressure weighs on your chest. Your mind betrays you, throwing destructive thoughts at you, telling you you're worthless, that everything you do is doomed to fail. The contradiction is overwhelming: on one hand, you feel lost, and on the other, you refuse to give in to the feeling of helplessness.

"Are you alright?" Silco asks, his voice low and steady, but there's a slight intensity in his tone. He doesn't break eye contact, as if he's evaluating every micro-expression on your face, every movement. He knows you're not, but still, he asks. Is it a test? A need to know how far you can go? The silence stretches on, and your thoughts only intensify.

The urge to stand up and run from it all is strong. Everything in you screams to follow your impulses, to escape, to flee from the overwhelming weight of it all. But you stay there, because something in you knows that running will only plunge you deeper into the darkness you're feeling inside. You see yourself fighting, trying to maintain control, but every second makes you feel more lost.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what's happening to me," you whisper, your voice broken, struggling against the avalanche of emotions threatening to drown you. You feel the tears pressing behind your eyes, but you force yourself to keep composure. "It's just... it's all so intense. So confusing."

Silco keeps watching you in silence. There's no judgment in his gaze, only a calculated assessment, as if he's reading between the lines of your suffering. After a long moment, he sighs and stands up from his chair, approaching you slowly. It's not a sudden gesture, but calm, as if he's used to dealing with people who struggle with their own minds. He says nothing, but his presence is the only thing anchoring you in this moment.

With one hand, he takes yours. The contact is firm, but not aggressive, as if he's giving you space to breathe, but also space to not escape. In his eyes, something changes. There's an understanding that you can't fully decipher, but it fills you with a strange sensation, like, for the first time in a long time, you're not alone in the storm raging inside you.

"Your mind is betraying you," Silco says calmly, his voice soft but full of an authority that makes you feel that everything happening has a purpose. "It's an enemy that everyone must face at some point. But you don't have to face it alone."

The words fall on you like a stone, but strangely, they allow you to relax, even if only for a moment. The internal chaos you've always felt halts for an instant. And in that silence, you're finally able to breathe.

"All of this... this emptiness, the feeling that nothing matters, it's not your fault," Silco continues, his tone firm, though not without a strange gentleness. "It's just a phase, a moment that will pass. But you need to control it. Not let it take over you."

You feel vulnerable, but at the same time, a part of you relaxes in his closeness. Silco doesn't tell you that it's okay, nor does he promise easy solutions. He speaks to you with reality, with that harshness that you know comes from someone who understands suffering, but who doesn't have time to sugarcoat the truth.

"What you're feeling is real, but it's also transient. Not everything is as final as you think," he adds, his gaze fixed on yours with intensity. "You can be stronger than this."

The words resonate in your mind as you take a deep breath. You don't know if you fully believe them, but for some reason, in this moment, the darkness feels less imposing. You're not completely free of it, but at least you feel you're not entirely alone. Silco is here, firm and without judgment, waiting for you to take control of your own mind, without expecting you to do it immediately, but giving you the possibility to believe that you'll manage.

The pressure in your chest doesn't disappear completely, but a small crack of calm starts to open within you. And though you know your inner struggles won't end immediately, for the first time in a long while, you don't feel as lost. Silco looks at you one last time, without haste, but with a silent certainty.

"When you're ready, you can get out of this. I'll be here."

You're surprised by how firm his voice sounds, as if, by saying it, he's committed to being a constant presence. And although you don't fully understand how he does it, you realize that, in this moment, his steadiness helps you more than any empty words of comfort.

The world continues around you, but somehow, Silco has given you the strength to face it.

The silence between you and Silco lingers for a moment, but it's no longer the same silence as before. There's a strange peace, almost comforting, in the way he holds you, in the closeness you now feel between you both. The contact of his hand, firm and steady, gives you an anchor amidst the storm that still rages inside you.

A sigh escapes your lips without you noticing, and for a moment, it's not one of despair, but of relief. Silco, still keeping his gaze fixed on you, takes one more step closer. It's not a quick or rushed step, but a calculated one, as if he's sure that, in this moment, the only thing you need is that closeness, that calm presence.

Without saying anything, his fingers gently caress your cheek, a soft gesture that cuts through you. There's a tenderness in his movements that you hadn't anticipated, something that seems in complete contradiction with the person you know, but that, in this moment, comforts you more than any words. You feel vulnerable, but you don't fear it, not now.

Your breathing gradually calms, and Silco, silently, moves a little closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his body. The space between you is almost nonexistent now, and you can feel his breath in rhythm with yours. There's something in his presence that soothes you, that gives you the feeling that everything will be okay, even though it still feels hard to believe.

Finally, his lips come close to yours with an unexpected softness. It's not a hasty or desperate kiss, but something slower, more measured. The brush of his lips against yours is so gentle that it surprises you, as if he's waiting for you to accept it, for you to be ready. And you are. Though your mind is still filled with doubts and fears, something inside you tells you that this is the moment you can allow yourself to be vulnerable, that you can receive something that won't hurt you.

The kiss deepens slowly, and in that instant, the world seems to fade away around you. All that remains is the warmth of his body, the firmness of his arms around you, and the gentle contact of his lips, like a silent promise that, even though the future is uncertain, for a moment, everything is alright.

When you finally pull away, no words are needed. Silco looks at you with an intensity you've never seen before, but in his eyes, there's something more, something you can't describe, something that makes you feel that, despite everything you've been through, you're not alone.

"I told you you were strong," he whispers, his voice deep and soft at the same time.

And for a moment, everything seems enough.

Mel Chronic Stress Disorder

The atmosphere is thick with tension, but it's a different kind of tension. It's a quiet calm, yet at the same time, it is filled with the constant threat of what could happen. You’re there, in one of the rooms of the mansion, sitting on a chair by the window, gazing out at the illuminated city, but unable to really see anything. The world around you seems to blur, as if a layer of fog has settled over your senses, blurring every detail and leaving only the emptiness of your thoughts.

Mel, who has been watching your behavior for the past few minutes, approaches with a palpable gentleness in her movements. Her presence is firm, but not intrusive. From a distance, she’s observed how the symptoms of your chronic stress have taken over you, how anxiety and mental exhaustion have combined to make you feel beyond your limits.

She crouches slightly to be at your level, her eyes fixed on yours, searching for your attention. “I notice you’re not yourself, and I know it’s because the weight of everything has piled up,” she says in a low voice, her tone soft yet firm. “But I want you to listen. You have the right to rest. You don’t have to carry the world, not all the time.”

Despite her words, you feel a pressure in your chest that won’t ease. Everything feels too big, too heavy. Chronic stress consumes you, leaving your thoughts tangled while your body responds with a deep exhaustion that doesn’t seem to go away no matter what you do.

Mel, noticing the internal struggle that consumes you, steps closer and, without warning, places a firm hand on your shoulder. It’s not a gesture of force, but of support. A sign that she’s here, silently, but available to help you find the balance you need.

“Your body is telling you it needs to stop,” she continues, with a softness that’s hard to deny. “Those moments of despair, of exhaustion... they’re real. But you don’t have to go through it alone, no matter how much you think you can.”

The contact of her hand on you, her quiet strength, begins to offer some relief. Even though the weight still lingers, something in you relaxes. It’s as if her words offer you a rope to hold onto, something tangible in the fog that seems to surround your mind.

You lean forward, your fingers briefly touching your forehead as you try to calm the agitation still coursing through you. The stress, that constant pressure in your life, seems unwilling to let go of you, but at least in this moment, with Mel by your side, you can breathe a little more deeply.

“I’ll be here,” Mel whispers, like an unbreakable promise. “If you need to rest, I’ll help you find peace. You don’t have to go on alone.”

For the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to think that, maybe, it’s possible to let go of some of that burden. Mel’s voice, soft yet full of certainty, is a refuge in the midst of the chaos in your mind.

Mel doesn’t expect you to feel guilty for your exhaustion. She doesn’t demand that you change or “overcome” your chronic stress overnight. She only gives you space to feel what you need to feel and to acknowledge that, even though the road may be long, you don’t have to walk it alone.

When your eyes lift and meet hers, there’s something in your gaze that softens. The stress doesn’t vanish immediately, but the simple fact that someone understands you, that someone is staying with you without judging, gives you something you didn’t have before: the possibility of healing.

The silence between you both is comfortable. It’s a silence of acceptance and understanding. And as Mel remains by your side, her presence becomes something that offers comfort, not an immediate solution, but a step toward the calm you so desperately need.

After a long silence, Mel slowly approaches you, and her eyes, filled with softness and understanding, capture you. She takes your hand, with a delicacy that makes you feel lighter, as if the weight of your mind could lessen just with that contact.

“You know, right?” she whispers, her voice gentle but firm. “I’ve seen you fight, and still, you’re here, being so incredible. And to me, that’s what really matters. Not everything you’ve been through, but who you are now.”

The sparkle in her eyes makes you blush slightly, and your heart beats a little faster.

“Mel...” you whisper, barely able to find the words, feeling your nerves breaking. “I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

She smiles, moving closer. “I’m here, for whatever you need, for anything, always.”

Without saying another word, Mel gently caresses your cheek, as if every movement is a silent promise. Then, you see her lean in toward you, her face so close to yours that you can feel the brush of her breath.

“You’re my refuge, you know that, right?” Mel says, with sincerity that runs deep within you.

And without another word, her lips find yours, in a tender, almost urgent kiss, as if she wanted to convey everything she couldn’t with words. When she pulls away, her eyes shine with an unmistakable softness.

“I love you, with all my being. And that won’t change.”

You shiver slightly at her words, but instead of insecurity, you find comfort. Her eyes transmit calm to you, and for the first time, you realize that she’s willing to be the peace you so need.

Sevika Bipolar Disorder

The darkness surrounds you, but it’s not physical darkness; it’s something denser, creeping through every corner of your mind. It’s one of those days. You don’t know for sure, but you feel it deep in your gut: something has changed. There’s a void in your chest that you don’t know how to fill, and a sensation in your stomach that twists you up. You’ve been through this before. The bipolar disorder drags you, takes you as its own without warning, pushing you from one extreme to the other in a matter of hours, minutes.

You wake up feeling the weight of sadness, a sadness that feels physical, sinking you into the mattress as if the sheets were lead. You don’t want to move, think, or do anything. You just feel empty, as if all your strength has evaporated. The room seems smaller, the walls pressing in on you. Your legs don’t respond when you try to get up. A knot forms in your throat, but the tears won’t come. There’s no energy for that, just the weight of despair.

You don’t see her enter. Her presence is silent, but solid. Sevika knows something is wrong, she feels it even before you tell her. When you look at her, her expression doesn’t change, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you feel that the situation is serious. There’s no surprise, no fear, just a cold, calculating understanding. Sevika isn’t one to lose her calm easily. And that makes you even more confused, making you feel like you don’t belong in that moment, like you’re not the person she expects to see.

“What’s going on?” she asks, not softening anything. The question isn’t condescending, nor filled with concern. It’s direct, almost harsh, she doesn’t beat around the bush. She knows that, when you’re like this, empty words don’t help.

You struggle to form a response. You can’t, really. Your thoughts are tangled in an incomprehensible chaos. But she doesn’t expect you to explain anything. Sevika approaches, sits on the edge of the bed. Her gaze never leaves you, as if she’s evaluating your soul, searching for a point of vulnerability, a sign of what to do next. She has the ability to see beyond your emotions, beyond the depression that consumes you and the anxiety that makes you tremble. She knows that right now there’s nothing rational in your mind, but understanding is her only response. Patience mixes with a slight touch of toughness, as she always does with things she can’t control.

“You’re staying here. You’re not going to do anything impulsive. You’re not going to try to run out of here or make this worse,” she says with a calm coldness that leaves no room for objection. You know that, in this moment, she’s the only voice of reason you can hear.

You’re aware that Sevika is used to dealing with extreme situations, but this one is different. She watches you closely, but from a distance, as if she’s weighing the damage, calculating what she can do to keep you safe. You don’t see fear in her, but you see resolve. She doesn’t switch into “rescuer mode,” she doesn’t try to hug you or tell you that everything will be fine. What she says, she says with authority because she knows that if she gives in, chaos will take control, and everything she’s worked to keep stable will fall apart.

In the internal struggle between your broken mind and the anger that begins to build up inside of you, Sevika is the rock that keeps you from diving into the void. But she also knows she can’t ignore your emotions. Her expression hardens slightly when she realizes there’s something more going on. “I’m telling you this because you know it, not because I need to explain it to you,” she whispers, making it clear that there’s no room for games.

When you finally speak, it’s in whispers, as if your words have weight and could break you. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m... I’m so tired of this constant back and forth. I can’t handle it.”

Sevika doesn’t change her posture. She doesn’t tell you that she’s going to “fix” you, nor does she try to cure you. She knows that what you have doesn’t have an easy fix, but she does have tools to deal with the situation. “You don’t need to fix anything right now. You need to rest. Let what’s going to happen, happen, but don’t make decisions you’ll regret later. Do you understand me?” her voice is firm, but underneath there’s something else, a touch of softness she rarely shows.

The air in the room is heavy, laden with the weight of your thoughts, like a fog that prevents you from seeing beyond. Sevika is there, watching you with the same intensity as always, but with an odd calm, a calm that scares you because it makes you feel like she sees it all: the chaos consuming you, the internal battle between despair and rage.

“I don’t want this to control me. I don’t want to be like this,” you murmur, the words coming out broken. You know you’re saying it more to yourself than to her, but still, the guilt pierces your chest like invisible needles. You feel like you’re not being who she expects.

Sevika stays silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on you. There’s something in her face, a line of tension in her jaw, as if she’s weighing every word before speaking. Finally, she gets a little closer, breaking the distance between your bodies.

“It’s not about what you expect from yourself. It’s about what you need right now. And what you need right now is rest, stop fighting against something you can’t control.”

Your eyes search hers, those eyes that always seem to understand more than you can verbalize. And, somehow, you feel that there’s no judgment in them, just a silent acceptance of what you’re going through. It’s strange. In the middle of the storm in your mind, Sevika gives you the feeling of being the only anchor left in your world.

Suddenly, she stretches out a hand toward you, not rushing, not in a hurry, but with the firmness that characterizes her. You take it without thinking, as if it’s the only thing that can stop the flood of erratic thoughts flooding your mind. Her touch is warm, comforting. There’s a strength in that simple gesture, something that allows you to relax, even if just for a second.

“I’m going to take care of you, understand?” she whispers, her voice low, barely a breath. There are no empty promises in her words, just a statement of fact. But in her tone, you find a softness that she rarely shows. It’s like, for a brief moment, her heart opens a little more, even if she doesn’t fully recognize it.

The moment stretches on, and even though the storm in your mind hasn’t ceased, there’s something in you that feels a little lighter. Sevika doesn’t have the solution to your pain, but her presence, her closeness, gives you a peace you never even imagined.

Without thinking, you move a little closer to her, seeking that warmth. Her fingers interlace with yours, and for the first time all day, you don’t feel completely broken. Sevika has never promised you a happy ending, but in this moment, you don’t need one. The simple fact of being here, of having her close, gives you a reason to keep going, even if just for a little while longer.

“I love you,” you say without thinking, and the words come out with a clarity that surprises you. It’s not a grand declaration, it’s not a promise that everything will be okay, but it’s something real, something you never thought you could say to anyone before.

“I love you too, doll,” she responds with a half-smile, though her eyes seem softer than ever. And, for a second, the world seems to stop. The anxiety, the disorder in your head, dissipate, if only for a brief moment.

She leans in a little toward you, and in that instant, all that matters is the touch of her lips on your forehead, a simple gesture but filled with affection. The silence between you both is comfortable, no pressure, just the comfort of being together, knowing that, even if the world around you falls apart, Sevika will be the one to keep you steady.

[scarletwinterxx]

won't let these little things slip out of my mouth - jeon wonwoo imagine

i have a confession... i cried while writing this. now i'm sad no one will ever propose to me this way, why oh why did i even write this BUT I LOVE IT SO MUCH🥺🥺🥺🥺

A/N: I HIGHLY SUGGEST PLAYING SPRING SNOW BY 10CM WHILE READING THIS. or not if u don't want to cry like a baby (like me🥹)

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The cold winter air nips at your cheeks as you walk beside Wonwoo, his camera slung over his shoulder as always. The streets are adorned with twinkling lights, festive wreaths, and the hum of Christmas carols drifting from nearby speakers. Despite the chill, you feel warm. Maybe it’s the cozy scarf he insisted you wear or the way his hand occasionally brushes yours as you walk.

He’s been unusually quiet tonight, though. You steal a glance at him, noting the slight curve of his lips as he stares ahead, the golden glow of streetlights reflecting in his dark eyes. He’s up to something. You just know it.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” you say, breaking the silence, “what’s with the secrecy? You’ve been grinning like a kid who knows something I don’t.”

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and familiar. “Patience,” he teases, his tone as smooth as always. “You’ll see soon enough.”

He leads you to a quaint little gallery tucked away on a quieter street. The windows are frosted, but you can see the soft glow of light inside, illuminating what looks like an intimate exhibit. Your curiosity piques as he holds the door open for you, the bell above jingling softly.

The gallery smells of wood and faintly of pine, and the atmosphere is calm, almost reverent. Wonwoo leads you through the first room, where a variety of black-and-white photos hang on the walls. They’re beautiful, sure, but they don’t hold your attention for long. Not when you can feel Wonwoo’s excitement radiating beside you.

“Come on,” he says, tugging you gently toward a smaller, dimly lit room at the back. “This is the part I wanted you to see.”

The moment you step inside, your breath catches. The walls are lined with photographs, but these aren’t just any pictures. They’re familiar. Too familiar.

“That’s... Wait, that’s from our trip to Jeju!” you exclaim, pointing to a shot of you laughing on the beach. Another photo catches your eye—a candid of you staring in awe at cherry blossoms during spring. And then another, of you holding an umbrella, your face lit up with laughter as the rain poured down.

You turn to Wonwoo, your heart racing. “What is this?”

He’s smiling, that soft, shy smile that always makes your knees a little weak. “Keep going,” he says, nodding toward the other wall.

You walk further into the room, and your chest tightens as you take in rows and rows of photos. All of you. Every angle, every expression, every moment he managed to capture. There’s one of you napping on a park bench, another of you squinting at a map, and one where you’re mid-bite into an enormous burger, ketchup smeared on your cheek.

You burst out laughing, tears pricking your eyes. “You didn’t!”

The walls of the gallery feel like they’re closing in as you walk further into the room, your gaze darting from photo to photo.

Each one is a piece of your life together—your smiles, your laughter, even your messy moments. You pause at a picture of you trying to eat an ice cream cone that’s melting faster than you can keep up with it. You remember that day vividly, how Wonwoo kept laughing and snapping pictures while you tried (and failed) to salvage the cone.

“Wonwoo,” you say softly, your voice trembling as the weight of it all settles over you. “You’ve been collecting these... all this time?”

“Every moment I could,” he says from behind you, his voice warm and quiet in the stillness of the room.

You move to the next photo. And then the next. They’re all you, and it’s overwhelming in the most beautiful way.

Then your eyes catch something different.

The very last photo on the wall.

It’s simple—a close-up shot of a ring nestled in a velvet box. The light glints off the delicate band, making it shimmer in a way that feels almost magical. Your breath catches in your throat as you take a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Is that—” you start, but the words die on your lips when you turn around.

Wonwoo is there, down on one knee in the middle of the gallery, holding that same velvet box in his hand. The air leaves your lungs as your gaze locks onto his, the vulnerability and love in his eyes almost too much to bear.

“It’s just us,” he says softly, as if he’s answering a question you didn’t ask. “No distractions, no one else. Just you and me.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. He takes a deep breath, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“I’ve spent so much of our time together trying to capture every moment, every expression, every laugh, because I never want to forget a single second with you. But the truth is, none of these photos come close to how I feel when I’m with you. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—through my lens and in my life.”

He opens the box, revealing the ring that you’d just seen immortalized in the photo. It sparkles under the soft lights of the gallery, but nothing shines brighter than the love in his eyes as he looks up at you.

“I want this to be my last photo project,” he says with a small, shaky laugh. “Because after this, I just want to live the moments with you. Will you marry me?”

The world tilts and rights itself again as you nod furiously, your tears spilling over. “Yes! Yes, of course, I’ll marry you!”

Wonwoo grins—one of those rare, wide grins that you know he reserves for the moments when he can’t contain his joy. He slides the ring onto your finger, his touch gentle and sure, before standing and pulling you into his arms.

The silence of the gallery wraps around you both like a warm blanket. It’s just the two of you, the faint glow of the photos on the walls casting soft shadows.

You lean back to look at him, laughter bubbling up through your tears.

“You seriously used a picture of the ring for the big reveal?” you tease, your voice trembling with joy. “Couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “It’s a story, isn’t it? And now it has the perfect ending.”

You rest your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. “Not an ending,” you whisper. “The perfect beginning.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the story of your love etched in photographs, you know you wouldn’t want it any other way.

[moonstruckme]

hi honey! this is quite a personal ask and it's a very touchy subject so if you don't want to write it that's perfectly fine!

I recently found out I'm infertile and won't be able to have biological children- I would love it if you wrote something with poly!marauders comforting a reader whose always wanted biological children but finds out she's infertile?

no pressure because this is a sensitive topic- but it would mean the world if you do x

Hi lovely, I'm so sorry about how jarring that must be for you. Thanks for your request <3

cw: grief related to infertility

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 626 words

You hadn’t cried when you found out. It had been a slow, seeping revelation. A shock you don’t know how to get past. So it comes as a surprise when, after sharing the news with your boyfriends, tears spill from your eyes. 

Sirius moves first, as he often does, his arms wrapping tight around your middle. “I’m sorry,” he says, pulling you to his chest. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” 

You don’t know if it’s a loss for him the way it is for you; you never really got around to talking about it, and now it’s a moot point. You appreciate the sentiment anyway. Remus’ hand has been on your knee since you’d sat them down on the couch, a comfort for whatever difficult conversation he sensed was coming, but he’s still now, in shock as you have been. On Sirius’ other side, you hear a dismayed breath go out of James. 

“I’m sorry, too,” you whimper. Sirius doubles down on the comfort, arms a vice and mushing kiss after heavy kiss into your hair while you weep. 

“Hey,” says James, gently. His hand comes to rest on your back, big enough to touch both shoulder blades. “Shh, it’s alright. It’s going to be okay.” 

“Jamie,” Remus murmurs. 

“It is, lovely. If you really want it, we’ll figure something out.” 

“But we don’t need to do that today.” Remus’ tone is at once stern and gentle. His pinkie makes a couple of short strokes over your leg. “I know how much it meant to you to have kids on your own, dovey,” he says, softer. “I’m sorry.” 

James sounds wounded. “I only meant that we’re with you. Or that we’re here for you, you know. Whatever you need.” 

You pick your head up from Sirius’ chest. Sirius allows it, though by the way his hands tighten on you only just, so that you can give James a watery smile. 

“I know,” you tell him. And you do. It’ll all be alright in the end is the motto James lives by; whatever the opposite of a defeatist is, your sweetheart boyfriend is that all over. But you only want to be sad right now. It’s a new sort of mourning for you, mourning a future you’ve never known and now you can’t have. “It’s okay, I get it.” 

James’ expression is already creased with sympathy, but at your teary eyes he starts to look like he may cry, too. “I love you,” he says, squeezing your shoulder softly. “We’ve got you, you know that.” 

You nod, because you do. You feel it like a pleasant weight right now, just in the center of your hurt. 

Sirius has begun swaying you gently, his lips pressed to your head like he plans simply to leave them there. “What do you want to do, sweetness? Just for now, what do you need?” 

You try to clear your throat, but your voice still comes out fractured. “I don’t know.” 

“It’s okay to just be sad,” says Remus. His voice has dropped to a soothing timbre, like logs crackling in a fireplace or the sea shushing over rock. “If you want to just stay here for a while, or cry some more, that’s perfectly alright.” 

His understanding draws another sob out of you, your face going back to Sirius’ chest as you give into grief. 

“Oh, my love.” Sirius hugs you even tighter, and then a second pair of arms comes around you, James hugging you both. Remus’ touch moves up your leg as you feel the couch dip closer to you, his lips pressing to the side of your head a moment later. You feel engulfed by love and caring. “I’m sorry, lovely,” Sirius whispers against your hairline. “We’ve got you.” 

[tarohugs]

they forget your birthday (nct dream)

►ot7 x reader

► angst and fluff

► w/c 3.1k

► toxic dreamies, some sad scenes, jeno being a meanie per usual

►a/n pleasee enjoy. i'm not the best at writing for the other members so I'm sorry if some are better than the other. let me know if you enjoy 😜

MARK is the busiest man you know. As his girlfriend, you were perfectly aware of his failure to properly manage all his activities. To him what mattered was staying afloat. Even though your time together was limited due to his schedule, you didn’t mind waiting for him to come home at the end of the day. He had made a huge effort to carve out time from his hectic lifestyle to make space for you and this was the most you could ask for. Because of this, time with Mark is valuable. Every second spent with him is thought out with love.

Your birthday is the most overloaded season regarding Mark’s schedule. With the demand for new music, constant touring, and endless practices, you didn’t expect much for him to surprise you. All that you wished for was at least some time to be spent with your loving boyfriend. But as you sat on the couch the whole day – ignoring requests to hang out with your friends in hopes Mark would pull through, expecting him to come home with a surprise straight from practice – the time was ticking closer to midnight and he was still nowhere to be seen. 

He was out of the house before he could even wish you a happy birthday. No note was left, breakfast wasn’t made, and all the chores were still left unfinished. As far as you knew, Mark hadn’t even come home from the previous night. As you sit on the sofa, envious of his bandmates who got to spend the fleeting days with him, you begin to regret waiting for you to matter enough to him. You could’ve spent the whole day catching up with friends, instead, you waited for your boyfriend who didn’t even care to send a simple “happy birthday” text.

Waiting got tiring and you only became more pissed. Just as you were about to reach your bed with your tears flowing down your face, you hear Mark enter, sounding exhausted from the day’s workload.

“Baby, I’m home,” he called across the apartment, only loud enough to hear from the room you were in. 

A sliver of you still had hope that he would surprise you with some form of greeting, but as his footsteps clicked closer to your shared bedroom and he had nothing in hand, all the hope had left your body. 

He sighed as he approached your tired figure, “Falling asleep already?”

It was obvious he didn’t even remember what was so special about today. A part of you wanted to slice at his throat for forgetting such an important date. Instead, you opted for peace, already feeling more tears threatened to spill.

“Yeah, had a long day.” you uttered, trying not to sound heartbroken. You couldn’t gain the courage to confront Mark. All you could do was tuck yourself under the covers and cry yourself to sleep while your loved one went about clueless.

RENJUN wasn’t one to open up to others about his feelings. You were the only one that he felt was worthy of sharing his deepest thoughts with. One of his being the fact he always felt distant from his friends. When he moved away from home he had broken a lot of his relationships and had difficulty rebuilding them. When Renjun told you he would be going out this weekend with his friends, you didn’t think much of it – other than the fact it was your birthday.

You knew not to become too hopeful when it came to surprises. You weren’t a little kid and you were aware that you’ll most likely get what you want by just asking. Although you knew this, you still thought that Renjun might possibly surprise you. However, you should’ve known better. 

When Renjun arrived home with nothing in his hands but shopping bags and a filled stomach, you knew he had forgotten a date that was so important to you. “Renjun, how was it?” you asked him excitedly, to the best of your abilities.

He smiled as he walked over to your spot on the couch, setting down his bags beside you on the coffee table. “We had a lot of fun. Had to catch up on lots though, who would’ve known how much my boys have grown.” 

You knew it was wrong to ruin his joy, but you had to get straight to the point. “Did you get anything while you were there?” You didn’t acknowledge his rambling about his friends, instead wanted to know if the bags held something for you to make up for his actions.

“Yeah, just some new clothes for the summer. They said they wanted to match-”

Before he could even finish his sentence you walked yourself to your room. Getting mad at him would only make matters worse so you did what your best at and removed yourself from the situation.

“Where are you going?” he asked as he tried to see what you were doing.

You continued to change and gather your belongings, clear what your intentions were. “Going out. Not wasting my special day waiting for you.” Before he could even process your words, you slammed the door in his face. Renjun knew he fucked up.

JENO is your homebody boyfriend – he loves spending time with you and cozying up in bed. It is rare he got to do so, though, as a lot of hours are filled with his idol lifestyle. He was expected to stay on top of his numerous schedules and manage time with his girlfriend. This is a lot of responsibility for a man like Jeno. 

You quite honestly didn’t expect much from him considering how busy he would be on your birthday. The date happened to fall on a Saturday when they were holding a concert. You were aware he would be extremely tired and might even not have time to hang out with you afterward. The least you expected with for him to send you a birthday greeting but you had received nothing and the concert had already begun. 

Being the loving girlfriend you were, you had arrived at the concert to support your boyfriend. When the other boys saw you they even made the effort to wish you a happy birthday. All of them but your own boyfriend, the reason you were even hear right now. 

The stadium was filled to the brim with adolescent teens to elderly couples. This was most definitely not your scene but you wanted to spend your birthday with the one you loved. You had brought your friends along as they also wanted to hang out. Even though you had so many people around you celebrating your life, you couldn’t help but feel worthless for not meaning anything to the one you loved most. 

When the concert ended you had excused yourself from your friends for the night to meet up with Jeno. Pushing yourself backstage was a difficult task after trying to scooch past all the fans and security. As soon as you had managed to locate Jeno backstage, you were told to wait outside by his managers, Jeno making no effort to halt their actions. 

You waited hours for him to finally exit the dressing room but to no avail, he never came out. 

“Y/n, what are you doing out here?” Jaemin saw you sitting on the bench you had positioned yourself on for the time being. 

It was silly he was asking such a question, he had to of known why you were here in the first place. “Just waiting for Jeno. Is he almost done?”

Jaemin had a shift of energy as if something had clicked in his mind upon your words. “He left a while out the back. I can go find him, he probably is still in here. I’m sorry he didn’t come to see you he probably forgot.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it Nana. Thanks for telling me.” You quickly gathered your belongings before he could even have a chance to comfort you. There was a time and a place for everything and crying in front of him on your birthday was definitely not something you had wished for. 

You refused to wait for Jeno any longer, he obviously never did the same for you. As you left the stadium all your emotions exited your body. How could someone you love break your heart so terribly?

HAECHAN is a family man at heart. He never failed to mention his siblings in a conversation and made sure to keep up with them when time allowed. This was something that drew you towards your boyfriend. Seeing his love for domesticity made you feel like you had found the man who would lead you in the future.

Funny enough, you had managed to be birthed the same day as his sister he loved so dearly. Obviously, it wasn't a coincidence that he would constantly mention his sister’s birthday and what he was planning on gifting her. What you did begin to question was his lack of mention of your own special date. 

It wasn’t uncommon for couples to not do much on each other’s birthdays, but your relationship was Haechan was not typical dating. He cared for you deeply, at least to the extent you thought. Each date was carved to cater to your liking and surprise you each time. You knew your birthday would be an even more special day for him which is why you weren’t surprised when you came home on the date with party streamers covering the house and an entourage of his family.

“Baby your home,” Haechan noticed your entrance and shocked face.

You smiled as you embraced him into a tight hug, “Thanks for doing this all for me. I love you.”

He laughed at your response, slight confusing you. “It’s my sister’s birthday, you know how much these days mean to us.”

Even though you were confused by Haechan's response, you did know you were happy he didn’t let you down in the end. He never wished you a happy birthday but you were sure a surprise party would make up for it.

As the party ensued and time for cake came, the lights were turned off and Haechan appeared out of the corridor with the candle lit sweet. You were standing next to his sister as you were greeting her a happy birthday. As he approached you with the cake you couldn’t help but notice your name was spelt wrong on the cake. Oh wait. It wasn’t even your name at all. He had never even remembered your birthday to begin with.

JAEMIN had mentioned your birthday to you on numerous occasions. He loved planning time with you and never failed to make sure each date was tailored to your liking. When he had asked you where you had wanted to dine in on your birthday, you weren’t surprised in the slightest by his actions to make sure the day was perfect for you. He had even made sure to pick an outfit for you to match and he already knew what gifts you wanted without asking.

As the days ticked down to the date, Jaemin didn’t seem to get any more excited. Typically, he would be all over you explaining the details of how excited he was to spend time with his loving girlfriend. When the day finally turned to be your birthday, you noticed he still was not making an effort to mention your planned date.

“Good morning my love,” Jaemin had greeted as soon as your eyes fluttered awake. 

You smiled, awaiting the day ahead of you, “What have you got on your mind today?” You knew Jaemin would have the whole day planned and wouldn’t be able to contain his joy. 

“Just happy I get to spend time at home with my love this morning. I got to go to practice later, though,” he replied as he pulled you closer under the covers.

You knew Jaemin had mentioned going out so you were surprised by his words. Jaemin wasn’t the type to cancel all your plans for work, he was adamant about making time for you. The last thing you had expected was for him to postpone your birthday for something so small.

“Can’t you just miss practice today?” You questioned slightly agitated. As much as you know work is important to him, it felt right to at least be somewhat selfish of your time with him. 

“No can do. You know these are a non-negotiable.” 

You could tell he was taken aback by your response. He had just wanted to make the most of his day with you before he had gone to practice, and who were you to avoid wishes. You could accept his business for at least an effort to make time for you. 

As you spent the fleeting moments with Jaemin, you couldn’t help but notice nothing about your day was going as planned. No presents were awaiting you at the table, not a single of your favorite meals was dished up by your favorite chef, and no greeting was uttered out of his mouth. 

The day had continued on as normal until he left for practice. Maybe he would bring you the gifts and dinner when he got back? Much to your dismay, he arrived home in the same state he was in before, just much more tired. 

As he tucked himself into bed next to you, you couldn’t help but feel the need to ask him about the change in his attitude. But before you could even question him, he gave you the answer you were searching for. “I feel like I forgot about something today.”

Damn right, you had forgotten something Na Jaemin.

CHENLE was never one to back down from an argument. He always made sure he was right even if it meant hurting others along the way, including his own girlfriend. Because of his ungodly ego, you two got into numerous fights. It was a red flag but he always managed to earn your forgiveness. His love language was gift giving and he never failed to surprise you with the most extravagant items. 

Most of your fights would end within a few hours, but this was different. You two had been arguing about his lack of care regarding setting aside time for you. He was busy, but so was everyone else in the world – he is perfectly capable of putting in the extra effort yet he lacks to do so. 

With your birthday on the rise, you had expected him to forgive you relatively quickly. Instead, you two had still not spoken a word since the day of your fight into your birthday. You were aware Chenle was stubborn, but you couldn’t believe he was this difficult. 

You should’ve taken the warning from others about your toxic habits. Even though time was running out you still felt like Chenle would end up pulling through. He always refused to bite the bullet and message you first, so this time you wanted to see how long it would take him to come crawling back. When it took multiple days, you knew he wouldn’t be speaking to you anytime soon.

Y/n: what the fuck is your problem Y/n: do you even know what today is? Chenle: was waiting for you to finally apologize Chenle: what’s so special about today Y/n: it’s my birthday

You couldn’t believe that Chenle would be so adamant about his stance he would even forget your own birthday. When you saw the bubbles appear indicating him typing his response, you didn’t pay any mind to it. Protecting your peace, you powered off your phone and chose silence to celebrate the remaining of your day.

When you heard a knock on your door no longer than 30 minutes after texting Chenle, you knew it had to be him. But you had no room left in you to listen to his excuses. If he wanted to prove himself, he should’ve done so before.

JISUNG was never the type to put his best friend over you. He always ensured you were his number one priority and his numerous date nights made you guarantee this. His best friend since childhood happened to be extremely possessive of him. Her intentions were clear, but your boyfriend was always too oblivious to notice. 

There were multiple occasions where she had uttered the most absurd comments to your face. Time and time again, Jisung had never stood up for you. You should have taken this as a red flag but you knew your boyfriend loved you dearly –  who were you to let a random girl get in your way?

Your birthday was around the corner and Jisung had not yet mentioned any plans regarding the day. He had mentioned a couple of things in the past but nothing that stuck out recently. When the day of your birthday arrived, the atmosphere remained the same. 

You had mentioned to him you were going to spend the day out with your friends and he didn’t question it. Before you could leave the house, he was already out for the day, not giving you a chance to even greet him good morning. It was odd for him to be out so early but you knew better than to think so deeply into it. 

When you arrived home you had noticed another car in the driveway – his best friend’s car. You were never one to be selfish but spending time with her on your birthday was the last thing you would ever wish for. 

You had still not received any messages from Jisung and you were starting to grow more concerned. Before you could enter your shared apartment, you were immediately greeted by the girl you wished to avoid.

“About time you showed up,” she eyed you head to toe, shutting the door behind you.

Her attitude never failed to surprise you. Nevertheless, you still played into her tricks, “I’m just getting back from the mall. You know, celebrating my birthday.”

She laughed at your comment, “Oh, poor Jisung must have forgotten. He hasn’t mentioned you all day.” She didn’t even offer any explanation as she pushed past you to exit the building, smirking on her way out.

You were aware she was a snarky bitch but you couldn’t believe she had the courage to make up such a lie. A part of you wanted to push past the door and confront your boyfriend and the other wanted to go after her like she was your prey. 

Even though anger fumed your vision, you couldn’t confront Jisung in such a way. Instead, you left and opted to spend a girl's night out. Little did you know Jisung was waiting on the other side of the door with your cake in hand.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Sweet Reunion

pairing: hwang hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: fluff, smut, high school crushes to lovers au

description: your best friend since high school is getting married, throwing a lavish wedding in a private resort on the bahamas. a week of having fun, drinking cocktails, eating nice food and enjoying the luxurious resort await for you. the only problem is, you don't have a plus one. your friend has an idea that just might light up some old forgotten flames.

word count: 14.4k

warnings: switch!reader and switch!hyunjin, multiple sex scenes, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up), smut with feelings, fingering, creampies, oral (f and m receiving), shower sex, lots of praise and pet names, reader and Hyunjin are in love fr, squirting, face fucking, brief foot job and foot massage (lmk if i missed something)

important: for people with thalassophobia there's a scene of a night swim in the ocean

a/n: reader is depicted as chubby and with tan skin but you can imagine yourself however you want to!

i wanted to write romantic and infatuated hyune, hope you enjoy!🫶🏻

also sorry if the ending seems rushed asjksls

~check out my: Masterlist

"Look how pretty they came out!"- your best friend Nicki practically vibrates with happiness as she hands you her wedding invitation, wrapped in a baby blue envelope, gold details etched into the expensive material.

"It's beautiful, Nicki."- you smile.

"Open it, open it!"- she almost knocks the table over with how jumpy her legs are.

You chuckle at her giddiness and carefully open up the sealed envelope. The paper inside is also nice and feels expensive under your fingers, and golden letters are engraved into it, inviting you to witness the happiest day for Nicki and Josh, who've been high school sweethearts and your best friends for years.

You were more than happy to be a part of their beautiful love story, but you can't lie and say you weren't at least a little bit jelaous. You were still single, a few of your relationships never too serious, never growing into something more. Coming home to an empty apartment wasn't horrible since you didn't mind being alone but sometimes you needed comfort and arms wrapped around you, someone to be there for you and tell you that feeling sad and lonely sometimes is okay and normal.

But, you didn't want to wallow in your loneliness and bring down Nicki, even though you were pretty sure almost nothing could bring her down in this moment, in fact, you felt like you have to hold onto her so she doesn't fly up into the sky like a helium balloon with how excited she is.

"They really came out beautiful. You always had an eye for aesthetic stuff like this."- you smile at your friend.

"Thank you. For everything, you know. You helped me a lot with the wedding, and in general. I'm happy to have you as my maid of honor and I wouldn't dream of choosing anyone else for that."- she says as she holds your hand.

"God damn it Nicki, don't make me cry now."- you chuckle squeezing her hand.

"Sorry, but you already know the both of us will be like waterworks on my wedding. Better to get a head start already, hm?"- she jokes and both of you laugh.

"Also, I know you were worried about your plus one and not wanting to be dateless at the wedding."- she adds after your fit of laughter. "But you don't have to worry anymore."

"What? What did you do?"- you narrow your eyes at her.

"Well... I might've invited Hyunjin to be your plus one."- she smirks.

"Hwang Hyunjin?! The Hwang Hyunjin from high school?"- you start freaking out immediately.

"You're still in contact, right?"- she asks.

"Well, we text sometimes for birthdays and Christmas, and like each other's posts on Insta. You do know I had the biggest crush on him, right?"

"I do, that's why I asked him."- your friend wiggles her eyebrows.

"And he's okay with that?"- you swallow, butterflies swarming in your stomach at the thought of Hyunjin, something you haven't felt for years.

"He sounded happy to me."- Nicki keeps smirking.

"You actually called him?"- you chuckle in disbelief.

"Josh and I still talk to him sometimes too. I was gonna invite him anyway. So why not as your plus one?"

"I will literally faint when I see him in person."- you say.

"Oh, I hope you don't because he's walking towards us right now."- your friend announces, waving as the door of the diner open.

"He- what?!"- you snap your head towards the sound and see Josh walking with Hyunjin, both of them laughing.

Your jaw collides with the floor as you stare at your high school crush, you can't believe that he looks even more beautiful than he did back then. You're suddenly self-aware, cursing Nicki in your mind for bringing him without telling you first because you didn't even put on any makeup and it's unfair that he looks so good effortlessly, like it's normal and casual to roll out of bed looking like a god. Nothing is normal and casual about that. You also hate your choice for an outfit, only wearing some stupid old t-shirt and a pair of jeans you deemed clean, running out of your apartment this morning to what you thought was just a coffee with your best friend.

"Oh, hello Hyunjin!"- Nicki stands up and hugs him, patting his back.

"Hi, darling."- Josh smiles and Nicki gets instant heart eyes, even after so many years they were still in love with each other like they've literally just met.

"Hi, baby."- she cooes at him as they peck each other's lips shortly.

You stand up awkwardly, ready to shake Hyunjin's hand but he smiles sweetly at you and pulls you into a hug.

"It's so nice to see you, y/n."- he says as he wraps his arms around you and you swear you've stopped functioning. You barely register lifting your arms up and returning the hug. Hyunjin smells so nice, and despite the cologne he wears you can smell that distinct scent of him that made you feel drunk whenever he got closer to you in high school.

It's like you're 16 again, stealing glances at your crush during class, hoping he'll say hello to you in the halls, hoping you'll sit next to him during lunch. The nights you spent daydreaming about holding his hand, kissing his lips, the diary you kept that's full of Hyunjin's name and little hearts around it, all the memories flood back to you so vividly and you feel giddy and embarassed as you lean back.

Hyunjin still wears the sweet smile he always does, and you can see the tips of his ears reddening as his eyes take you in.

"It's nice to see you too."- you manage, your voice almost breaking from nervousness.

"This feels like high school, doesn't it?"- Nicki claps excitedly as the four of you sit down.

"Except I don't have the embarassing bangs I thought were the coolest shit ever back then."- you sigh, your cheeks warming up under Hyunjin's gaze that hasn't left you since he walked in.

"I thought they were cute."- Hyunjin says and you chuckle, your heart fluttering.

"And I got rid of my braces. Those were a pain in the ass."- Nicki sighs.

You spend at least an hour reminscing together, about your teachers, the shenanigans you got into, the first time you got drunk, gossip about people you knew from back then and you can't believe just how much of those memories somehow involve Hyunjin.

You're thankful for your friends as they made your high school experience less hard and embarassing, and more fun and filled with positive memories you can always think back on with fondness.

"Well, you two feel free to stay here but Josh and I have some more wedding stuff to get to. So, I'll text you later y/n."- Nicki winks at you and you wish you could convey through your eyes just how panicked you are to be left alone with Hyunjin already.

You feel awkward when they leave, and as you look up at Hyunjin he suddenly seems shy too as his eyes flutter away and then back to you again multiple times, his cheeks rosy.

"So, we didn't really manage to catch up."- he starts. "What do you do?"- he asks.

"Oh, I'm a veterinarian."- you say and Hyunjin smiles.

"You always wanted that. I'm glad you made your dream come true. Although, I had no doubts that you wouldn't."- he says, looking at you fondly and you melt into the chair you're sitting on.

"Thank you, really."- your face is warm again. "What about you?"

"I'm a painter. And a photographer. Mostly doing comissions and sometimes events."- he says shyly, like he's cautious not to sound like he's bragging.

"Look at you! You also made your dreams come true."- you say, smiling at him.

"Eh, I'm far from that. I still need to make a name for myself. I wish to own a gallery one day too."- Hyunjin says.

"You're being modest. Not many artists can say they live from their art. Plus, I believe you'll make it. I always did."- you confess, your heart hammering in your chest.

"T-thanks for believing in me."- Hyunjin smiles sheepishly. The tension between the two of you feels tangible, like you can cut through it with a knife.

"Thanks for agreeing to be my plus one."- you chuckle embarassingly.

"Oh, well it's my pleasure."- Hyunjin shifts in his chair, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

This is going to be interesting.

-

Nicki calls you that afternoon excitedly asking for details of your "date" with Hyunjin.

You tell her it wasn't a date, and after you tell her what the two of you talked about you almost shriek loudly into the receiver when she informs you that Hyunjin and you would be sharing a suite at the resort.

Nicki invited around 200 guests to her wedding which you thought was too much, but it's not your place to comment on it. If she wants to throw a big lavish wedding, she should do what her heart desires. But only about 20 of the guests, including hers and Josh's immediate family and closest friends were invited to come a few days earlier and enjoy the pre-wedding activities and the luxurious resort fully.

This ofcourse includes you and your plus one, with whom you'd be sharing the suite.

"And you didn't tell me this earlier because?"- you pace around your living room.

"Because I knew you'd be freaking out."- she laughs.

"I'm not freaking out."- you say, trying to sound calm.

"Yes, you are."- Nicki chuckles.

"Yes, I am! You want me to basically live with Hyunjin for almost a week?!"

"Y/n, this is a great chance for igniting some old flames. Obviously everyone knows you two were head over heels for each other except the two of you. Which is so funny in retrospect. Like how you'd stare at Hyunjin and sigh dreamily. And then he would stare at you every time you looked away. We actually had bets on who'll make the first move."- Nicki tells you and you can't help the chuckle that escapes your lips at the silliness from high school.

"I guess all of you lost because neither of us made a move. I didn't think he ever saw me that way. He's you know... Hyunjin. And I'm me."- you sigh, sitting down on your couch.

"What is that even supposed to mean bestie? Don't start with the pity party because Hyunjin would literally kiss the ground you walk on even now. Didn't you see the way he was looking at you?"- Nicki says.

"Don't exaggerate! I did see it but maybe he was looking at me like that because he didn't see me in a long time and-"

"Y/n, face it. Hyunjin and you have some feelings left from high school that need to be explored. Don't feel nervous and trust me. As soon as we come to the beautiful resort, as soon as you drink your first cocktail and take a swim in the ocean, you'll be seeing things differently. You need to loosen up. We all do."- Nicki sighs happily.

"I hope you're right. I'm honestly kinda excited."

"You better be more than kinda excited for my wedding!"- Nicki threatens you jokingly.

"I'm beyond estatic for you."- you chuckle, shaking your head even though she can't see you.

-

You can't sleep the night before the flight to the Bahamas. You checked your suitcase like a hundred times, making sure you packed everything you'd need for the trip.

You decided to also pack some cute lingerie just in case and since it was the Bahamas and you were basically gonna let loose as your best friend said, you packed the skimpiest bathing suits and the shortest dresses you had. Hoping in your mind, Hyunjin would be the one to take them off of you.

You slap yourself internally, annoyed at how far you're already thinking about Hyunjin in all kind of unholy scenarios when the two of you had barely just begun hanging out again.

You toss and turn in bed in anticipation, unable to sleep almost all night, your alarm blasting at 6am. You arrive at the airport feeling like a truck ran you over and meet up with Nicki and Josh, and their family.

Hyunjin joined you not too long after you came and again he looked like a model for a luxury brand who just woke up looking perfect. You felt a bit embarassed but what was making you even more nervous is that he hasn't taken his eyes off you yet again.

You made small talk while waiting for the plane, like there wasn't a break in your communication since high school ended. Being next to Hyunjin and talking to him felt so natural and weirdly normal.

Sitting in the plane next to Nicki and a few other close friends, you listened to music and daydreamed about all the possible romantic scenarios that could happen between you and your high school crush.

You were ready for almost anything.

-

As soon as you leave the airport and arrive at the resort, you already start feeling like another person. The air is different, better, more fresh. Everything looks more vibrant than the dull city and the resort looks expensive as fuck and you feel excited to be at a place like that, knowing that even with your decent pay you could never afford something like this, especially for a huge wedding.

Not that you wanted a huge wedding like your friend did, on the contrary, you'd rather have a small and intimate ceremony with just a few people who matter the most to you.

You scoff at yourself, thinking about a wedding when you can't even have a serious relationship.

"What is it?"- Hyunjin appears next to you with a smile and you shake your head quickly, cheeks heating up from how close to you he's standing, his shoulder brushing yours.

"Nothing, just thinking how expensive this place looks."

"Probably costs an arm and a leg."- Hyunjin nods, looking around.

The staff welcomes you, taking your luggage and bringing it to your rooms, with Nicki and Josh at the front, probably making sure that everything is okay with the reservations.

"Your suite is number 14."- Nicki strides towards you with a keycard, a smirk on her face as she looks between you and Hyunjin.

"Thanks."- you chuckle at her expression as you grab the keycard.

"We're gonna have so much fun! We should all freshen up and then meet up for lunch."- Nicki smiles at you and Hyunjin, and your other friends who are all couples.

Everyone agrees to meet up in the lobby in an hour and you make your way to the suite with Hyunjin.

The walk is comfortably silent but your heart is beating loudly in your ears. Being alone with Hyunjin and a bed brings all kinds of dirty thoughts to your mind.

As soon as you walk in, both you and Hyunjin gasp. The suite isn't just a room, it's like a small apartment. There's a huge bathroom, kitchen, living room, balcony and a jacuzzi in the yard.

"This is insane."- you whisper in disbelief.

"I've always wanted to go to a place like this."- Hyunjin admits.

"Me too, honestly. Like I'm not that fancy as a person but just sometimes you wanna drink expensive champagne and sit in a jacuzzi, you know?"- you say and Hyunjin laughs.

"Ah, to be rich and without worries."- he sighs dramatically as you two look around, finding your luggage neatly placed next to the closet in the bedroom.

"Well, we can pretend we're that while were here."- you say and Hyunjin agrees with you.

Both of you start unpacking as you glance at the bed, it's a decent size to where both of you would fit and it makes something stir in your gut. Hyunjin notices you staring at the bed.

"If you're uncomfortable, I will sleep on the couch, I really don't mind."- he smiles at you.

"What? No way, I'll sleep on the couch."- you say and he snorts.

"There's no way I'd let you do that. I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing you're cramped on that couch, no matter how soft it looks."- he says and you feel your face heating up again.

You can't believe the words that come out of your mouth next.

"We can share the bed."

Hyunjin looks surprised, his eyes widdening and lips falling open silently as he tries to answer. His cheeks are pink as he smiles.

"Alright. If you're okay with that, I'm okay with it too."- he says.

Both of you continue unpacking and talking and Hyunjin insists you take a shower first while he waits like the gentleman he is.

You grab your shower stuff and a change of clothes and head for the bathroom.

As soon as you walk into the huge shower, you're confused. The shower looks more like a spaceship with buttons you don't understand, it's fancier than any shower you ever used you have no idea how to turn it on.

You play on luck and press a button, making hot water spray over you and you shriek as it burns your skin, quickly turning it off by pressing the same button.

"Y/n, are you okay?!"- you hear Hyunjin's muffled voice on the other side of the door.

"Ugh, yeah, just a sec!"- you call out, walking out of the shower and grabbing the robe that the resort staff left in the bathroom.

You quickly put it on, tying it and trying to cover up as much as you can before you open the door.

Hyunjin's face becomes deeply red as he gives you the elevator eyes, taking your appearance in.

"This is embarassing but I don't know how to turn on that shower."- you say quietly as Hyunjin stands there, catching flies with his mouth open, eyes lingering on your cleavage.

"Oh. I'll- I'll check it out."- he says and you step aside, letting him come in.

It's awkward as he fiddles with the buttons while you peer at what he's doing, standing behind him on your tippy toes.

He presses a few buttons and both of you scream as soon as the water starts spraying from the ceiling, bursting out in laughter the moment you lock eyes with each other.

"This is a shower running on quantum physics."- Hyunjin says as he fiddles with the buttons again. "But I think I get it."- he finally manages to adjust the water.

You step in closer and Hyunjin explains which buttons he pressed and how to control the temperature.

"Thank you."- you say, embarassment seeping into you once again.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll... leave you to it."- he steps out, and you try to calm your breathing, with the prospect of having Hyunjin in the shower with you dancing around in your mind.

The shower is big enough to fit two people, especially if they wanna do certain activities. You scold yourself as you do your skincare, thinking that you must be really touch deprived to be this horny. Or maybe it's just Hyunjin's fault, for looking that good and being so sweet.

-

By the time lunch comes around, you are so hungry you can barely think.

You meet up with Nicki and Josh on the terrace of one of the resort's restaurants, and the view is simply breathtaking.

The ocean kissing the sand looks alluring and it invites you to dive in and find out all the secrets it hides. You briefly forget about your call to the ocean as Hyunjin brings out your chair and smiles cutely at you, his dimples showing as he looks at you through his sunglasses.

"Thanks."- you mutter and sit down.

Two other couples join you and everyone starts conversing about how beautiful the resort is. Nicki asks about the rooms and you tell her about the confusing shower to which she laughs, saying that it's some new technology and that she would love to have a shower like that installed at home.

You order your food, ready to even eat the plate with how your stomach is growling.

"So, how long have you and Hyunjin been together?"- Sophia, Nicki's friend from work, asks you as you eat the delicious food and you almost choke on the bite in your mouth.

"W-were not together. Were just... friends."- you say hesitantly, unable to look at Hyunjin, missing the look of embarassment and disappointment on his face.

"Oh, sorry."- Sophia makes an awkward face.

"Friends. For now."- Nicki smirks.

"Nicki!"- you smack her arm and she laughs like she just said the funniest joke.

Josh reads the awkwardness between you and Hyunjin and quickly changes the theme to all the things the resort offers.

You steal a glance at Hyujin and he seems to be contemplating something, deep in thought as he stares at the ocean. You wonder if it calls to him too.

"I wanna swim in the ocean."- Hyunjin says suddenly, like he can read your mind.

"Me too."- you agree immediately and he looks at you like he didn't realize he said that out loud.

"We should all go swim-" - Sophia starts but Nicki kicks her under the table making her gasp.

"No, no. There's a thing I wanna show you, Soph. You know."- Nicki nods towards the two of you as you talk quietly and Sophia realizes Nicki's plans.

"Oh. Yeah, I know."- she nods quickly.

-

"So, should we go to the beach?"- you ask Hyunjin after you get back to your room from the lunch, feeling a pleasant buzz from the good food and a few drinks you had.

"I was thinking more of a night swim."- he smiles mischieviously.

"A night swim? Isn't that kinda scary?"- you ask.

"I think it's exciting."- he says, looking at your every move as you take the bottle of wine in the kitchen and take out two glasses.

"Have you ever tried it?"- you ask him, struggling to open the wine.

"A few times. You?"- Hyunjin asks as he makes his way towards you.

"No, never."

"Do you want to?"- Hyunjin's breath hits the back of your neck as he suddenly appears behind you.

Shivers run down your spine as his arms wrap around you but his hands reach for the wine bottle you're holding.

"Let me help."- he whispers.

"I want to. I mean go on a night swim. But, I'd like to try the jacuzzi first."- you swallow as Hyunjin manages to open up the bottle with a pop.

"Sure, I'd like that too."- he smiles as he steps away from you, like he wasn't just all up in your private space leaving you hot and bothered. "We can do whatever we want to, really."- he adds, and you look at him trying to read his mind but all you get is him looking at you warmly, like you're the most beautiful and precious thing he's ever seen, you can even swear there's a twinkle in his eyes as he smiles at you.

Is he flirting with you?

You're sure at this point that you're feeding into your delusions and you turn around to pour two wine glasses.

"Here. To Nicki and Josh."- you say and Hyunjin chuckles as he takes the glass from your hand.

"To Nicki and Josh."-your glasses clink together. "And to us."- he adds and your chest flutters.

"To... us."- you nod and both of you take a sip.

-

The sun is just starting to set as Hyujin lowers himself into the jacuzzi, waiting for you to join him.

You're in the bathroom, trying on your third bathing suit and checking yourself out in the mirror.

You're usually not this self-aware but you saw how toned and lean Hyunjin's body is and looking at your slightly chubby figure, you wonder if he'll like the way you look. You always said you'd be damned if you ever let a man's opinion on your body change the way you see yourself but Hyunjin looks at you with such intensity that you're scared he will see all the flaws clearly.

Ultimately, you decide on the first one, a white bathing suit with gold details that compliments your tan skin, and you finally gather the courage to actually walk out of the bathroom. As soon as you step out into the private yard, Hyunjin looks up at you. You catch the quiet gasp that leaves his lips, redness spreading on his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears and down his neck. He barely conceals the smile that breaks out on his face.

"I like your bathing suit."- he says as you step into the jacuzzi slowly, and he mentally slaps himself for saying that instead of telling you that you look like the most beautiful goddess he has ever seen.

"T-thank you."- you chuckle as you quickly sit down into the water. Hyunjin turns away from you, a smile still playing on his lips as he grabs your wine glass from before and passes it to you.

For a few moments, all that can be heard is the sounds of the swirling water in the jacuzzi and the light jazz that Hyunjin probably put on coming from the room, as the two of you admire the orange and pink hues painting the sky above the ocean.

"So, do you still dance?"- you ask him, after taking a few sips of the wine.

"Oh yeah, in my free time. What about you? You used to like dancing too."- Hyunjin tilts his head at you.

"I did. I mean, I do like it, I just don't have that much time anymore. Plus, I wasn't really good."

"That's such a lie!"- Hyunjin chuckles. "You're a great dancer. Almost as good as me."- he jokes with a smirk.

"Yeah, almost."- you chuckle with him.

"So, what takes up all your time except work?"- Hyunjin asks, and you notice he's sitting closer to you now.

"I do volunteer work too, I help out at animal shelters and such. It's hard for me to resist helping animals in need. I don't have the heart to turn the blind eye."

"That's really sweet of you."- Hyunjin smiles. "So, basically you work all the time."- he chuckles. "No significant other?"

"If there was, they'd be here with me now."- you say and feel Hyunjin's thigh slightly press against yours under the water, making your core throb immediately. "W-what about you?"

"Still waiting for the one."- he smiles at you, his arm sneaking behind your upper back.

"Forever the romantic soul, huh?"- you chuckle nervously, he's so close to you.

"Do you believe in love?"- his eyes roam all over your face like he's analyzing it and it's hard to focus and not be on edge when you can literally count his eyelashes and when he's asking questions like that.

"Ofcourse I do. Honestly, I'm just a little disappointed with love right now."- you sigh.

"Bad experiences?"- he asks.

"More so bland than bad."- you answer, and Hyunjin goes silent for a few moments.

The sun has almost completely gone down, leaving your faces illuminated by the fairy lights in the garden.

"You know... I have something to confess."- Hyunjin says suddenly, his knee resting on yours and he's even closer now.

"Y-yeah?"- your voice trembles.

"I had the biggest crush on you in high school."- Hyunjin says, his eyes softening.

Your brain short circuits as you try to process what he just said. The biggest crush of your life, the one you pined over for years, the most beautiful and sweet man you've ever met felt the same way about you?

"Y/n?"- Hyunjin says unsurely as you stay quiet.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't... I never knew you felt the same way as me."- you accidentally say and Hyunjin looks at you, before he realizes what you said and his eyes widden as he gasps.

"You had a crush on me too?!"- he asks, seemingly excited.

"Come on, Hyun. Everyone had a crush on you in high school. People called you Prince. It's not exactly news."- you chuckle awkwardly, trying to ignore the way your heart is beating fast.

"I don't care about everyone. I care about you."- he says, his cheeks rosy. "I never thought you'd feel the same though."

"Me either. Actually, Nicki told me that everyone knew. And that they made bets on which one of us will make the first move."- you chuckle and Hyunjin laughs.

"Our friends really are something."- he says. He looks like he's about to say something again but you feel so nervous that you get up abruptly.

"I feel like I'll melt into the water if I keep sitting in the hot tub. I think I'm gonna take a shower and go to bed. I need to catch up on some sleep."- you talk quickly as Hyunjin looks at you, the look on his face slightly confused and a little bit dejected.

You basically run away from him and lock yourself in the bathroom. You try to catch your breath first, thinking what the fuck just happened in there?

Hyunjin's confession coupled with his body so close to yours intoxicated you more than the expensive wine ever could. You needed a cold shower.

-

You leave the bathroom on your tippy toes, dressed in your night gown and ready for bed.

You hope you can avoid Hyunjin at least for tonight, while you gather courage to face him again tomorrow and your plan is to get into bed and act like you're asleep if he asks you something or tries to talk to you.

You know it's childish but the figurative butterflies in your stomach are making you nauseous each time Hyunjin smiles at you.

"I'll go get ready for bed."- your plan is interrupted as Hyunjin appears seemingly from out of nowhere, grabbing his clothes.

You sigh and sit in bed, grabbing your phone and checking your messages. You see that Nicki had texted you asking how's it going with your 'lover' and if you're getting any 'action'.

You snort at your phone, quickly typing out an answer that he isn't your lover and that there is no action whatsoever.

You toss your phone aside and lay down, your muscles instantly relaxing into the bed, and you think how it's definitely the most comfortable bed you've ever touched.

You hear Hyunjin shuffling towards the room and he walks in wearing only his boxers, his hair damp from the shower and you swear your heart skips a beat or two.

"I'm actually feeling tired now. I think the plane and change of scenery are finally catching up to me."- Hyunjin talks as he gets under the covers and you wonder why this feels so casual like it happens every single night, like you're a couple that has been sleeping next to each other for years.

"Yeah. I'm barely awake."- you answer, your eyelids becoming heavy despite the fact that Hyunjin is laying next to you half naked and you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, inviting you closer to him, making you wish you could melt into his arms.

"I wanted to show you some of my recent art but we can save that for tomorrow. I'd also like for us to continue our talk."- he whispers the last sentence.

"What talk?"- you ask, already falling asleep.

"About our feelings."- you think you hear him say, but you can't fight the sleep anymore.

-

There is an arm around you. There is an arm around you.

Your eyes snap open and trail down towards your waist.

There is an arm around it, holding you tightly and there is a warm body attached to your backside.

You panic and then you remember where you are and who you're with and then you panic even more.

"Hyun?"- you whisper, trying to look back at him. "Hyunjin?"- you try again.

"Mmh?"- his voice is muffled, half of his face smushed into your pillow.

"I think Nicki wanted to see us for brunch or something."- you say awkwardly.

"Mm yeah, I'm awake."- he says, moving away and then you hear him gasp. "Oh my god, I am so sorry for getting all into your space and practically sleeping on you."- his face is red when you turn to look at him finally, and he looks even more embarassed than you are.

"I'm used to hugging my pillow every night."- he says sheepishly and you chuckle, deciding to tease him.

"Am I the equivalent to your pillow? Is that what you're saying?"- you smirk.

"No, no! You're way better than a pillow. I mean... you know what I mean... Nevermind, I'm gonna go get dressed."- Hyunjin rambles as he gets up clumsily, almost tripping over nothing as you stare at him and chuckle under your breath.

You can't believe you actually have that effect on him, and you also can't believe he looks so good when he just wakes up. It's like his lips look even more pouty than usual and you wish you could kiss those pretty lips until they're bruising.

And with the morning sun rays peeking through the window, you can see Hyunjin in all his glory and the sight makes your mouth water.

He grabs some clothes and you quickly look away as he turns around, busying yourself with your phone. There are a few texts from Nicki asking if you're up, and to come down to the restaurant you ate yesterday at for brunch. You quickly text her that you'll be there soon as the two of you get ready.

-

You didn't expect for Nicki to drag you and her other friends away from the guys claiming the girls need to go shopping and have some fun on their own. You're actually thankful for that because with the way your heart's beating fast the whole time Hyunjin is near you, you think you're seriously gonna have a heart attack.

"So, tell me, what happened last night with Hyunjin?"- she lowers her voice as she hooks her arm with yours, while you walk through the mall.

"Nothing happened. We talked."- you shrug.

"Boo! Boring! Give me some juicy details."- she shoves you a little and you laugh, shoving her back playfully.

"Well, we sat in the hot tub. Like real close."- you say and Nicki gasps. "And then Hyunjin told me he had the biggest crush on me in high school."

"Y/n!!! That is huge! I knew it, oh my god! What did you do?"- Nicki asks excitedly and you chuckle at her.

"I basically ran away and went to sleep."

She shakes her head looking like a disappointed mother as she narrows her eyes at you.

"You should've kissed him."

"Yeah, right."- you scoff.

"I'm telling you, don't miss out on a good thing."

-

You had a fun time with the girls, getting to know some of Nicki's other friends more, ofcourse with a cocktail or two in your hands because who cares, you're practically on vacation.

But your mind wanders to Hyunjin the whole time and you can't wait to be alone with him again.

He texts you telling you he came back to your shared room and asking if you're hungry to which you answer that you're starving. It's somewhere around dinner time as you walk into the suite, leaving the bags from your shopping trip in the living room.

A nice smell spreads from the kitchen making your stomach growl as you walk towards it.

You didn't expect to see Hyunjin in an apron, actually making dinner.

"Oh hey, you're back just in time. Dinner's almost done."- he turns towards you and smiles.

Your heart flutters when you see that the table is set, and there's flowers in the middle of it and a few candles and it all looks so romantic.

"I hope you like what I made. I'm not the best cook but I tried. I know we could go to any expensive restaurant here but honestly, I wanted it to be just the two of us."- Hyunjin rambles.

"Oh, it already smells really nice. I'm sure it'll be delicious."- you say, finally snapping out of your trance as you come closer to him. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure."

The food is actually delicious, and the expensive wine adds to it, and the fact that Hyunjin cooked for you just makes everything much better and tastier. You both share how you spent the afternoon, agreeing that this is probably the most relaxed you've ever felt in your life.

Hyunjin remembers the night swim you promised him and you glance out the window at the almost completely dark sky.

"Let's do it."

Both of you get ready for the beach, giggling like little kids as you make your way towards it. You feel giddy and adventurous, like you're having an out of body experience cause there is no way you would do something like this usually.

You find a quiet part of the beach and sit down on your towels first, Hyunjin sitting close to you again, leaning on his arm that's placed behind your back.

He turns towards you and you can barely make out his features in the almost complete darkness while his eyes roam all over your face illuminated by the distant lights of a beach bar.

"I have to say, I'm so happy to be here with you. I'm happy that Nicki's and Josh's wedding brought us together again."- Hyunjin says quietly and you swallow as butterflies rise up to your throat.

"Me too."- you whisper.

"You have no idea how many times I wanted to just dm you on Insta and ask you to meet up."- he confesses.

"Really?"- you chuckle.

"Yeah. But I always chickened out, I don't know why. I guess it's because of the same reason I never asked you out in high school."

"Which is?"

"Which is that I always thought you could do better than me."- Hyunjin sighs and you can't help the scoff that leaves your lips. The Hwang Hyunjin was insecure next to you? What dimension did you fall into?

"That's absurd. I thought the same thing for you though."- you add and he laughs.

"We were dumb, both of us. But I hope we've grown and we know better now, hm?"- Hyunjin asks, his hand resting on your lower back, his eyes landing on your lips as he slowly leans in closer.

"I would hope so too."- your voice trembles as his leg presses against yours.

"Can I kiss you?"- he asks and you don't even answer verbally, you close the gap and your lips land on his.

He reciprocates immediately, his hand wrapping around you as yours tangles in his hair. Kissing his soft lips feels even better than you could ever imagine. You can't believe you're finally kissing your high school love, you feel like you're actually floating on clouds and also exploding at the same time.

Hyunjin's kiss is slow, purposeful and sensual until he gets drunk on you and then his kisses become more passionate and desperate, tongue prodding at your mouth. Your lips part to let him in, his free hand is on your cheek now as he angles your head to push his tongue in deeper and explore your mouth. You grip at his arm and his hair and Hyunjin grunts into you, the sound going straight down to your core.

"H-Hyunjin..."- you whisper as you part for air. He chuckles and then full on laughs as he leans his forehead on yours.

"You've no idea how long I wanted to do that."- he licks his lips.

"Same."- you say and he leans back and smirks.

"How about that night swim, hm?"- he wiggles his eyebrows as he takes off his t-shirt. You gulp and look around before taking your dress off.

You're in your bathing suit, but Hyunjin doesn't stop at his shirt. His fingers hook into his swim trunks as he stands up and slides them down, his dick in front of your face and your body feels hot as you gasp and turn away.

"W-what are you doing?"- you almost shriek and Hyunjin laughs.

"Swimming naked. Your turn."- he says and you look up at him. "I mean, don't feel pressured, you don't have to if you feel uncomfortable."

"I want to."- you bite your lip, your hands behind your back as you untie your bathing suit, letting it fall down. Your breasts spill out of it and Hyunjin's eyes are full of lust as he stares at them, wishing he could bury his face between them in that moment. You stand up and slide your panties down, now completely naked in front of Hyunjin.

Your heart hammers in your chest as he looks at you and you feel a little self-conscious.

"You're beautiful."- he smiles sincerely and you think you're gonna have that heart attack right about now.

"So are you."- you say and Hyunjin laughs sweetly as he grabs your hand, fingers intertwining with yours.

"Are you ready?"- he asks.

"I'm a little scared."- you say as you look at the dark ocean in front of you.

"I'll keep you safe, darling."- Hyunjin looks at you softly.

"Okay."- you say and the two of you get into the water, both of you screaming because it's cold but you're already in it so you wanna go all the way.

"Oh my god!"- you shriek as Hyunjin laughs and screams at the same time, his arms flapping around funnily.

"It's cold as fuck!"- you say.

"We'll warm up."- he swims closer to you, winking at you and you roll your eyes at him playfully.

"Something- something's touching my leg."- Hyunjin's serious suddenly and you panic a little.

"Don't joke around."- you warn him but he shakes his head.

"I'm not, I can feel something-" - he says and then screams as something tugs on his leg, almost pulling him under water.

"Hyunjin!"- you panic, trying to swim closer to him as he flaps around.

You're scared until you come close to him and he suddenly stops the dramatic flapping and gives you a dumb smirk.

"There's nothing, I was joking."- he says calmly and you smack his shoulder.

"You asshole! I was really scared for a sec! Why would you do that?"- you whine at him and he pouts at you, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into his body.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to joke around a little. I wont do that again, I promise. I'll make it up to you, please don't be mad."- he continues pouting as you try to ignore him, even though your arms are wrapped around his shoulders.

"Start making up for it now and I'll think about forgiving you."- you smirk and Hyunjin presses himself closer to you, your breasts pressed against his chest. He leans in and you make out in the water, forgetting about the cold and the fact that someone could catch you in that moment. You don't care about any of that, you only care about Hyunjin's arms around you and his tongue licking into your mouth.

"Let's get out of here."- you smirk and both of you swim back to the beach and get out of the water, still holding hands.

You sit on your towel and Hyunjin grabs his, wrapping it around the both of you. You start kissing immediately, feeling like you're finally making up for all the years of pining over each other.

Your limbs tangle together, hands roaming all over each other's bodies and both of you heat up again after cooling down in the water. Hyunjin's hands come up to cup your breasts and you moan into his mouth as he runs his thumbs on your perky nipples.

"Hyun..."- you moan, arching into his touch.

"I want you."- he whispers on your lips.

"Here?"- you giggle, caressing the back of his neck.

"Mhm. Here. I can't wait anymore."- he whines.

"Ah, me either. I want you too."- you say, your hands tangling in his wet hair.

"I have a condom in my pocket somewhere."- he tries to find his pants but you grab his hand.

"I want to feel you completely."- you say, your voice low as you look at him with eyes full of lust.

"Fuck... Okay darling, whatever you want."- Hyunjin says, his pupils blown.

He can't wait anymore as he lays you down, plump lips attaching to your neck, his hands massaging your breasts and you feel arousal drip between your legs, you need him more than you've needed anything in your life ever.

He bites down into your skin, sucking on it and you moan, gripping his bicep. Your hand slides to his wrist and you guide his hand between your legs.

"Touch me, please."- you whimper.

"Gladly."- Hyunjin whispers, his fingers on your clit immediately, massaging the bundle of nerves in circles as he kisses you again, his tongue playing with yours. He swallows every moan you release, your hips lifting up into his touch as he runs his fingers over your wet folds.

"So wet. All this for me?"- he asks as he leans back and looks at you, caressing your hair.

"Only for you."- you answer and he presses two of his fingers on your entrance, silently asking for permission as he looks into your eyes. You nod and he bites on his lip, slowly pushing his digits into you.

"Ah!"- you moan, nails digging into the towel below you as he pushes in deeply, curling his fingers to find that gummy spot that drives you crazy.

You spread your legs for him, his hand speeding up, the tips of his fingers hitting that sweet spot over and over again making you see stars. He scissors his fingers inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal melting into the sound of the waves crashing together in front of your heated bodies.

You spill your juices over his fingers as you arch you back and grip his wrist, pushing him deeper into you as you ride out your orgasm.

"Fuck, you're so hot babygirl."- Hyunjin groans before pulling his fingers out of you and putting them in his mouth.

"Mm."- he moans around them. "Taste so sweet."

"Please Hyun, I need you."- you whimper, grabbing at him and pulling him closer to you.

"You don't have to beg, sweet girl. I'll give you anything you want."- he smirks at you, stroking his cock before pushing between your folds slowly, his eyes staring into yours intensely.

You moan loudly, the stretch is delicious as he fills you up, sliding himself slowly into you so you feel every inch of his hard cock opening up your pussy.

"Mm you're so tight."- Hyunjin moans into your ear as he leans down closer to you, his hands resting on your hips. "Feels so good to finally be inside you."

"Ah, Hyun- move, please."- you whine, burning up for him and him only.

He starts slowly fucking into you as you wrap your legs and arms around him bringing him even closer to you, wanting your bodies to melt into each other like the sea foam melting over the sand. Everything disappears around you except the ocean and Hyunjin. He's deep inside you, his tip kissing your cervix repeatedly as your pussy stretches to take him perfectly, like it was made just for his cock. And as you rock together, you realize you love him, you've loved him for years and even though you never had a taste of him before tonight, none of the people you tasted before made you this hungry for them. No one could compare to Hyunjin, nothing could compare to the feelings running deep inside you, deeper than the dark ocean murmuring before you.

"Y/n, are you okay? Am I hurting you?!"- Hyunjin looks panicked and just then you feel the tears sliding down your cheeks.

"No, no. You're perfect."- you say and his eyes soften as he slowly starts moving his hips again.

"Then what's wrong, darling?"- he asks.

"I... I love you, Hyunjin."- you say with all your heart and Hyunjin practically melts, his face breaking into the happiest smile you've ever seen.

"I love you too, y/n. I've loved you for years. Don't cry, my darling."- he wipes your tears away.

"Make me yours, Hyunjin. Fuck me and make me yours."- you plead as you grab onto him desperately and he grips your hips, eyes rolling back as he starts fucking you faster.

The feeling of his cock splitting you apart, his hips slapping into yours, your mixed breaths and moans makes the sea inside you rise, the waves crashing over you as your hearts wild inside your chests, the ocean wilding together with the two of you, almost tickling at your feet.

"I'll make you mine, darling. Only mine."- Hyunjin groans, one of his hands on your breast and his mouth busy with your nipple as he fucks his cock into you harshly. You can't take anymore and with the crashing wave you snap and explode, squirting on his pulsating cock.

"Mm Hyunjin!"- you moan his name as he fucks you through your high, hips becoming sloppier before he twitches inside you, and then paints your insides with his warm cum, pushing as deep as he can to make you only his.

"Wow."- he breathes hard, leaning his forehead on your shoulder as you wrap your arms around him and hold him tightly.

"Wow indeed."- you say and he lifts his head up, giving you the cutest smile that reaches his eyes.

"I love you."- he whispers.

"I love you."- you whisper back and he pecks your lips gently, sweetly.

"Let's get out of here before we freeze our asses off."- you add and he chuckles, kissing your forehead.

-

"I really needed that warm shower."- you shiver under the blanket that Hyunjin found in the wardrobe.

"Same."- he says, sliding under the cover with you. "Are you still cold?"

"Mhm."- you nod.

"Come here, we'll warm each other up."- he says as he opens his arms and you roll into his embrace lazily making him giggle. You wrap around each other, limbs and hearts tangled together as you breathe each other in.

"I feel like I'm in high school."- you giggle, your fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. His hand rests on your waist as he caresses you gently.

"Yeah, like were sneaking around from our parents after our curfew."- Hyunjin chuckles. "Oh, would you let me sketch you? Or maybe paint you even?"- he asks, his hand coming up to caress your cheek.

"You brought your supplies with you?"- you ask.

"I don't go anywhere without them. Just in case inspiration hits, you know?"- he smiles, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Okay, I'll be your inspiration then."- you smirk and lean in to kiss his soft lips.

"Remind me... to show you... some art tomorrow."- Hyunjin mumbles between kisses.

"Mhm."- you mutter against his lips, unable to detach yourself away from him. You wish you could stay like this forever, close to your Hyunjin, your lips attached to his like he was giving you air.

You have no idea how long you kissed each other like that before the two of you fell asleep, holding each other as close as you could.

-

The sunlight is almost blinding as it comes through the window, the warmness of it and of your lover's body so close to yours make you wanna spend the whole day in bed, wrapped in the blanket and wrapped up in Hyunjin.

His face is smushed into your chest, his arm and leg around you holding you tightly. You chuckle quietly, lips pressed to his forehead as you comb your fingers through his soft hair.

"Mm."- he mutters, nuzzling between your breasts.

"You having fun there?"- you poke at him and he chuckles quietly before rubbing his face on your skin gently.

"I don't wanna move."- his voice is slightly muffled and you giggle, knuckles brushing his cheek.

"Me either but we kinda have to get up."- you say.

"Says who?"- Hyunjin mumbles, leaving little kisses on the valley of your breast.

"Nicki. She wants us girls to go to the beach and then have a spa day."- Hyunjin groans at that, holding you tighter.

"So, you're leaving me again?"- he finally looks up at you and you chuckle at his squinty eyes and pouty lips.

"You'll have me later again."- you smirk.

"Okay, deal."- he nods, pouting at you cutely like he's begging for a kiss. You lean in, still smirking, so close to his lips but you stop there, waiting for him to react to your teasing.

Hyunjin whines and opens his eyes.

"Kiss me."- he pouts again and you chuckle, pressing your lips on his, both of you melting into each other instantly.

"I'll miss you until later."- Hyunjin whispers and your heart flutters as he caresses you everywhere he can reach, his lips on your skin.

"I'll miss you too."

-

"You what?!"- Nicki screams when you tell her the details of last night.

"Lower your voice, please."- you smack her arm as you look around the beach.

"You fucked on this beach?! You guys are more adventurous than I thought."- she wiggles her eyebrows with a sly smirk, pushing you playfully.

"We couldn't wait to get to our room so..."- you smirk and she almost screams again, both of you giggling like crazy.

"What else?"- she asks.

You thought about telling her how you've already confessed love to each other, but for some reason that felt so intimate to you that for now you wanted to keep that between you and Hyunjin.

You told her some other details and Nicki was estatic for you, as happy as you are for her and Josh. You talked about the bachelorette and the wedding, Nicki being so excited about all of it that she was practically walking on water.

You had a fun time actually swimming during the day, when you can see how clear the ocean is, the sun reflecting off of the water making everything look a hundred times more special and wondrous.

After the beach, you and the girls hit the spa, needing a self-care day and you tried all the different massages you had no idea even existed.

Feeling extraordinarily relaxed after the spa and yummy lunch, you were basically ready for a nap.

As you walk back into your suite, you hear some faint music coming from the balcony.

You follow the sound and peek out of the door, Hyunjin's sitting on one of the chairs, a sketchbook in his hands as he draws.

You lean on the door frame, staring at him fondly as his hand glides expertly over the rough paper.

"You can admire me from afar, but I think you'd like me better up front."- he smirks, eyes not leaving the sketch he's working on.

"Haha, very funny, Prince."- you say mockingly and he chuckles, looking up at you.

"I mean it, pretty. Come closer."- he wiggles his finger at you, you roll your eyes playfully but make your way to him.

"Closer."- he tugs on your arm gently as you stand in front of him.

"A little bit closer."- he adds as you start leaning in.

You smirk and tease him, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks.

"Almost there."- he whispers, your lips close to his and you give in and kiss him with a smile on your lips. His free hand comes up to hold the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss, breathing you in like you're his oxygen.

"What are you sketching?"- you ask when you part.

"I was sketching the sky but now that you're here, I'd like to sketch you."- he smiles.

"Alright."- you nod, sitting down on the other chair. Hyunjin pours you some lemonade, flipping his page as he gets back into his drawing.

You talk about anything and everything, he lets you look through his other sketchbooks and you admire how far he's come with his work. The drawings and paintings are more intricate, more heavy and emotional, deeper than the doodles he made in high school.

He seems proud of his work but also bashful, the paintings bare the artists soul to the world after all.

"Here."- Hyunjin gives you the sketchbook so you can look at his sketch of you.

"Oh wow, you made me so beautiful."- you say and he laughs sweetly.

"I draw what I see."- he smiles.

"Stop that."- you say embarassingly, your cheeks heating up.

"Never."- Hyunjin smirks and you shake your head at him.

"No, but really, all of your work is so beautiful. You really deserve to have it hung in a gallery so the whole world can admire it."- you say and Hyunjin's cheeks are pink as he leans towards you, his hands resting on your thighs.

"You're so sweet, you know that?"- his eyes fill with something you recognize as desire, the same look he gave you on the beach last night.

The nap you needed is long forgotten as Hyunjin starts massaging your bare thighs.

"Let's get inside."- you whisper and he smirks.

Teeth clashing and fingers digging into your skin, you clumsily make your way to the bed, kissing and bumping into furniture on the way.

Your hands slide under Hyunjin's shirt and you explore his waist and abs, fingers coming up to play with his nipples, your lips attaching to his neck. He groans, gripping at your dress as you suck on his skin, just below his ear.

"Mm, darling."- he moans and you slide his shirt up, signaling him to lift up his arms so you can take it off. You throw it somewhere on the side and push Hyunjin down on the bed.

He falls with a thud and a giggle, his face red as he looks at you like you're the sun itself.

You straddle him, leaning down to attach your lips on his skin again, worship his beautiful body as you kiss him everywhere you can reach, the sweet scent of him filling up your nose and taking over your brain.

Little grunts and moans leave Hyunjin's pink plump lips and you keep sliding lower, your fingers hooking into his pants as you kiss his abs.

He looks down at you with lust, lifting his hips off the bed and you slide his pants and boxers down, throwing them aside carelessly too.

Your hand wraps around his length, his pretty pink tip glistening with precum and you lean in and lick at it, making Hyunjin's eyes roll in the back of his head.

"B-baby..."- he whines quietly, legs spreading subtly and you smirk, wrapping your lips around him, your tongue playing with the sensitive underside.

Your hand is still wrapped around the base of his cock as you keep teasing him, moving slowly and only concentrating on his tip.

"Darling, more, please!"- Hyunjin whines, pushing his hips towards your face desperately and you oblige, gripping his hips to hold him still as you slowly slide down to take more of him.

"Mm, fuck!"- he whimpers as you start bobbing your head up and down, your hand working what doesn't fit in your mouth, your other hand fondling his balls, squeezing them gently.

Pretty moans and grunts keep spilling out of his lips as he struggles not to fuck up into your mouth harshly. You keep speeding up and trying to take as much of him as you can, you eyes watering when he almost hits the back of your throat, making you gag.

"Fuck, darling you look so pretty like that."- Hyunjin moans as you give it your all, sucking on his dick like it's the tastiest lollipop ever.

Hyunjin buzzes with arousal, legs shaking as his fingers tangle into your hair. You moan around him, sending vibrations through his cock. Hyunjin looks down at you with so much lust in his eyes that it makes you shiver.

You're almost sore but you don't wanna stop, not until you make him cum and it doesn't take Hyunjin too long to explode, his cum hitting the back of your throat, making you choke on it as you swallow as quickly as you can.

Hyunjin gasps and whimpers, his hand gripping your hair harder as you milk him dry. He shakes from oversensitivity and gently tugs at your hair.

"P-please... sensitive..."- he whines and you lift off of him, licking at your lips.

He leans on his elbows, his eyes fluttering as he shakes his head slightly.

"Let me return the favor, darling."- he says and you crawl closer to him, your lips on his, making him taste himself on your tongue.

"Can we- can we continue in the shower? I've always wanted to try that."- you say shyly, your face warm, your cunt wet and throbbing for Hyunjin.

"You're so naughty, babygirl."- Hyunjin smirks, hands wrapping around you and gripping your ass. You moan in arousal and embarassment as you accidentally grind against his thigh.

"Can we?"- you ask again.

"Ofcourse baby. Your wish is my command."- Hyunjin kisses you and you make your way to the bathroom, peeling your clothes off on the way there.

Both of you step into the shower, Hyunjin attaching his body to your back, his semi hard cock pressing into your plush ass as you fiddle with the buttons on the shower.

He gently moves your hair to one side, his lips on the back of your neck as he kisses you slowly and gently, his hands coming up to cup your breasts as he runs his fingers on your nipples.

You moan, relaxing into him as your eyes flutter closed, the warm water from the shower spraying on your legs.

Hyunjin slides one of his hands down between your legs, his fingertips finding your sensitive clit as he starts playing with it, pressing it in circling motions.

"Mm, Hyunjin please!"- you moan, leaning into his touch. He's all over you, playing your body like an instrument and you can't get enough of him, you just want more and more.

You grab his hands and turn around.

"You still wanna return the favor?"- you smirk.

"Yeah, yeah."- Hyunjin nods eagerly.

"Get on your knees."- you say and he looks surprised before he chuckles.

"Alright, I don't mind kneeling for you."- he smirks and kneels in front of you. A gush of arousal drips between your legs when you see such a pretty man looking up at you like you're everything to him and waiting eagerly to please you.

You hook your leg around him, your foot resting on his back as you bring him closer to your dripping cunt.

Hyunjin whines and buries his face into you, his tongue lapping at your sweet pussy greedily. His eyes are closed, long eyelashes fluttering, his nose massaging your clit in the right way as he buries his tongue deep inside you and fucks you with it.

"Oh my god- Hyune, ah!"- you moan, gripping his hair harshly and pushing his face further into you.

He moans and whines as he keeps moving his tongue expertly inside you, his eyes opened and staring up at you. The look in his eyes as he grips your ass makes you almost double over and you're sure you would slip and fall if he wasn't holding onto you. Your moans echo in the small space of the shower but in that moment you don't give a flying fuck about anyone hearing you. You can't help it as your hips start grinding on Hyunjin's face and his eyes flutter shut again as he lets you use him until you're almost screaming, the coil inside you snapping as you squirt on his face and lips. Hyunjin moans with you, cleaning you up with his tongue as you whimper, your legs shaking and ears ringing.

He leans back, smirking at you and you see that his dick is fully hard now again.

"So good, Hyune. So good."- you whine, grabbing at him as he slowly lifts up.

He leans his forehead on yours, his cock slotting between your hips, dragging against your wet pussy.

"I can't get enough of you."- he whispers.

"Me too. I need you, I need you inside me."- you gasp, rubbing your pussy against his heavy cock.

"I'll give it to you, babygirl."- Hyunjin smirks, eyes glazed over with lust as he grips the underside of your hips and lifts you up. You squeal and wrap your legs around his waist, the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance.

You move your hips towards his and he wastes no more time, lining up with you and pushing his cock in.

You groan, nails digging into his shoulders as he slowly pushes in until he bottoms out, his tip kissing your cervix, his cock stretching you deliciously again.

"So big."- you whine, throwing your head back and he chuckles.

"Hold onto me, darling."- he grips your ass, lifting you up slightly and then pushing you down on his cock again. You moan loudly, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he keeps ramming you on his hard cock, hips fucking up into you at the same time, making your brain turn into mush.

He kisses your neck and grunts into your ear as you surrender completely, your head thrown back, eyes shut tightly, limbs completely wrapped around him, pussy stuffed with his cock.

You've gone delirious at this point and you can't even think or form coherent words, and you can see that Hyunjin's in the same state of disarray.

"Cum. Need to cum."- you whimper.

"Let go, babygirl."- he whispers into your ear and you release your juices all over his cock, making everything even more wet and slippery as you clench around him.

"Shit, ah!"- Hyunjin keeps pushing his cock harshly into you, burying himself as deep as he can and making a home inside you as he groans your name and spills his cum into you.

Both of you hold onto each other as you slowly move, riding out your high. Hyunjin's legs tremble for a second and he slowly pulls out and puts you down, his arms wrapped around you.

Your arms are wrapped around his waist, your bodies pressed together, your face buried in his neck as he caresses your head and you find comfort in his embrace and in the warmth radiating from his body and his heart.

-

You're sitting on your side of the bed, texting Nicki about some details for the bachelorette party tomorrow when Hyunjin joins you.

He slides on the bed comically, laying his head in your lap and poking at your arm to get your attention. You put your phone aside and chuckle at him.

"It's almost over."- you sigh.

"What is?"- he asks.

You put your hand in his hair and caress him gently and his eyes flutter, lips pouty.

"This wonderful dream. Soon, we have to go back to the real world."- you say wistfully.

"The good feeling doesn't have to end. We can carry it back with us."- Hyunjin smiles at you, grabbing your other hand and kissing your knuckles gently.

"You think so?"

"Mhm. Especially if... if you wanna give us a chance."- he looks at you hopefully, his cheeks rosy.

"Ofcourse I do. It's all I've wanted for years."- you smile and he chuckles in relief.

"Then we can continue dreaming together."- he sits up, hands cupping your cheeks as he kisses you lovingly, pouring his emotions from his lips to yours.

"You know, I have sketchbooks from high school that are full of drawings of you."- Hyunjin smiles bashfully as you lay down and hold each other.

"I have like 4 diaries worth of simping over you. Oof, that was so cringy!"- you cover your face in embarassment and Hyunjin laughs.

"Oh my god, that's so adorable!"- he says, pulling your hands away so he can look at you and you feel your face burning.

"Nooo, it's embarassing!"- you whine.

"You gotta show them to me."

"God, no!"

"Yes, please y/n! It's cute, we can laugh at it together!"- he pouts, batting his eyelashes at you.

"Alright, alright. You know I can't say no to that face."- you sigh and he smirks.

"Hehe, fun."- Hyunjin mocks and you roll your eyes.

"You're lucky I love you."- you say.

"Damn right I am."- he kisses you.

Between all the sweet kisses and the whispered words of love, you know this is what you were waiting for.

-

You and Hyunjin decide to wake up early the next morning so you can go to the beach before Nicki snatches you away for some girl time.

You cut up some fruit to take with you with Hyunjin hovering behind you the whole time, his hands roaming all over your body, pulling you into him.

You grab your towels and some other things you need before you skip down to the beach, holding hands.

It's pretty early when you arrive and the beach is not crowded, making it all feel more intimate as Hyunjin and you strip to your bathing suits and make your way to the water.

It all feels like a dream you don't wanna wake up from, the two of you relaxed and playful with each other, splashing around and racing each other.

You feel partly like a kid again, just enjoying the simple moments in life, that veil of wonder covering your eyes and making everything look beautiful and mystical again. And partly you feel like the luckiest woman alive when Hyunjin pulls you into his loving embrace, your heart giddy as electricity runs through you waking up every neuron inside your brain. If this is what being in love is like, and having your feelings reciprocated, you never want it to stop.

-

"Bestie, you don't understand how happy I am for you!"- Nicki squeals excitedly, throwing her arms around you and almost throwing you off balance.

You and the other girls are gathered in her suite, getting ready for her party, and you finally told her how you and Hyunjin already said 'I love you' to each other.

"You don't think it's kinda going too fast?"- you ask, biting on your lip nervously.

"God, no! You've been crazy for each other for years. It's about time you came clean with your feelings."

"I'm just worried, something that goes up fast usually crashes and burns down fast too."- you sigh.

"Don't be ridiculous. Those are years worth of feelings. You and Hyunjin were made for each other, and deep down you know that. Don't let any bad thoughts or insecurities make you believe otherwise."

"You always know what to say."- you chuckle at your friend. "But enough about me, let's get ready for your party!"- you add excitedly.

You decide to wear one of the lingerie sets you brought, lacy and almost see through, your mind already making up scenarios of Hyunjin taking it off of you. You put on a sparkly short dress that accentuates all your curves perfectly, your make up is sultry and smoky. When you finish with the final touches, you look into the mirror and feel so happy that the whole outfit looks even better on you than you've imagined.

The party is held in one of the resort's 'dance rooms', and there is so much food and alcohol around that you have no idea where to start.

It starts off with all of you taking shots and congratulating Nicki and as the night goes on, more alcohol is being poured into your glasses, there's laughter, tears and dancing as all of you celebrate Nicki's last 'free' night and the beginning of a new chapter in her relationship.

By the time you stumble back into your suite, you're a bit tipsy and not expecting Hyunjin to already be there. He peers from the kitchen as you shut the door too loudly on accident.

"Oh, Hyune. You're back already."- you make your way to him and he chuckles as he takes your hands in his.

"Are you a bit drunk, baby?"- he asks as you face plant into his chest and whine.

"Just a little bit."- you say, your voice muffled.

"Luckily for you, I just made some coffee."- he smiles and you lean back, wearing a stupid smile on your face, making him laugh.

"You're cute."- you coo at him, your palms on his cheeks, squishing them together and making his lips pop out.

"I think that's you."- he manages to say and you chuckle and kiss him.

"Drink some coffee."- he adds when you part.

The coffee is warm and just how you like it, the two of you sharing the love for the bitter taste of the dark liquid.

You end up on the couch as you sip on your coffee, some light music playing in the background as the two of you talk. Hyunjin's hand ends up on your bare thigh as he squeezes it.

"You look sexy."- he says, always so forward with his compliments and you feel arousal pool between your legs, already under his spell just from the way he looks at you and gently massages your thigh.

"Oh yeah? Are you gonna do something about that?"- you smirk, now sobered up.

"As a matter of fact I will."- he smirks back at you, grabbing your face and crashing his lips on yours, making you whimper as he bites on your bottom lip, his tongue licking at it. You open your mouth and your tongues dance together, battling for dominance until you let him have it and moan into his mouth. The muffled sounds and the shared kisses make you both throb for each other.

But Hyunjin has other plans in his mind, no matter how much he just wants to lift up your dress and fuck you into oblivion.

He leans back, his eyes dark and narrowing at you. You gulp as he slowly kneels in front of you, the carpet giving some relief to his bare knees.

"Your feet must hurt in these."- his hand covers the top of your foot in your strappy heels.

"Actually, they do."- you nod, catching your lip between your teeth in anticipation.

"Let me."- he whispers as he starts undoing your heel. He slowly takes it off of your foot, before his hands wrap around you and he starts massaging you. You gasp, having no idea how much your feet were actually hurting until Hyunjin started pressing his fingers into them.

You relax, leaning back on the couch as he takes off your other heel, his hands kneading your feet. You've never had a man touch your feet like that but the fact that it was Hyunjin, made your head float. You throw your head back, little grunts and moans of relief leaving your lips, as you spread your legs subtly, your panties now soaking wet.

Hyunjin notices your legs opening up and your body shivering a little and he leans in, one of his hands on your thigh and the other still holding your foot. You look down at him as he leans in, leaving kisses on your inner thigh and you whimper as he keeps touching you and kissing you. Your foot reaches down to press his erection through his shorts and Hyunjin jerks his hips up, gasping in surprise.

"Y/n!"- he whines and you smirk, massaging his hard cock with your foot, moving it up and down until you feel his shorts dampen with pre cum. Hyunjin has a death grip on your thighs, his nails digging into your flesh as his eyes close, brows furrowed and lips parted. Pretty groans and whines spill from his lips as you start circling his wet head with your toes.

"Fuck!"- he grips you harder, glassy eyes looking up at you.

"I didn't know you were into feet this much."- you smirk.

"P-please don't judge me."- he whines, his hips moving up into your touch involuntarily.

"I'm not judging you, baby. I think you look so pretty right now, Hyune."- you coo at him, your hand cupping his chin and making him look up at you.

"Mm darling..."- he whimpers as you speed up. "You better stop now cause I'm gonna cum."- he licks his lips and you chuckle, pressing into his cock harder before you move your foot completely.

Hyunjin seems on edge already and you feel proud that you can make him unravel with just your foot on his clothed dick. He slides his hands to the hem of your dress and slowly rolls it up, revealing your lacy panties.

"Fuck, sweetheart."- Hyunjin chuckles darkly. Before you can even say anything, his hands hook under your thighs and he pulls you closer to his face harshly, his nose and lips pressed into your lace covered cunt immediately.

"H-Hyunjin!"- you gasp as you grip at the couch, your heart leaping out your chest for a moment. He licks over your damp panties, making them even more wet. Your legs rest on his shoulders and you tangle your hands in his hair as he grips your ass, pushing his face into you.

"M-more, please!"- you beg and Hyunjin sneaks his hands between your thighs, spreading them apart before he grips your panties and rips them apart.

"Oh my god!"- you whimper as you peer down at his lustful face.

"I'll buy you new ones."- he chuckles and dives back in, tongue lapping at your juices.

"Mm. Don't care."- you moan, gripping his hair and holding him in place. Hyunjin closes his eyes and eats you out like a man starved as your legs close around his head, pressing him between your thighs.

You're going crazy for him, grinding on his face and he lets you take control as you keep fucking his face faster, chasing your release.

Hyunjin thinks his head is gonna explode with the strength you squeeze him with as you get closer, your moans getting more high pitched, movements getting more erratic and desperate.

"Ah, ah, fuck Hyune!"- you scream out as you cum, squirting all over his face.

Hyunjin seems surprised for a second and you feel a little embarassed.

"Shit, I'm sorry! I kinda lost myself in it."- you say, your cheeks heating up.

"God y/n, don't apologize. That was the hottest fucking thing ever."- Hyunjin licks around his lips and you feel your pussy clench around nothing.

"Really?"- you ask and instead of answering, Hyunjin stands up, taking his clothes off fast before he hovers over you and starts slowly sliding your dress off.

He loves the lacy bra you wore but he doesn't want any obstacles in his way so he snaps it open and takes it off of you, tossing it aside.

He leans down to kiss you, his lips pressing hard into you, bruising and making you taste yourself on his tongue. You grab at him desperately and he slides his arms under your thighs again but this time he lifts you up like you're as light as a feather. You whine and he sits down on the couch with you on top of him.

"I want you to ride me, darling."- he smirks at you, hands on your breasts, playing with your perky nipples.

"As you wish, Hyune."- your lips tremble as you grab his painfully hard cock, he gasps and pushes up into you, his lips parting as he stares at you.

You move his tip against your wet cunt making both of you moan as you lean in to kiss him and bite his pretty plump lips. You can't wait anymore and by the twitching of his cock against you, you know he can't wait anymore either so you sink down on him slowly.

He looks down at where the two of you are connected and groans.

"You take me so well, baby."- he praises and you mewl, slowly moving your hips in circles.

"Your cock was made for me, Hyune."- you lean your forehead on his and he breathes out a shaky breath.

"Mm yes baby, only for you."- he whimpers as you grab onto his shoulders and start slowly sliding up and down on him.

Hyunjin lets you set the pace as his hands roam all over your body, mapping you out, sketching you in his mind already.

You press your chest into his and the two of you kiss as he starts slowly fucking up into you, matching your movement. You fuck on each other slowly for some time before you need more, your cunt stretching more and more to adjust his length and girth and you need him harder, deeper.

You lean back and start bouncing faster on him, fucking yourself on his hard cock as he hits you so deeply, where no one has ever reached before. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and you throw your head back as you keep rocking on him faster and faster. Hyunjin looks at you mesmerized, his cock twitching inside you and he knows he wont be able to last much longer. The way you lose yourself in pleasure, your tits bouncing as your pussy takes him in deeply, keeping him wet and warm, clenching around him in a deathly grip has him counting stars.

He grips your hips and starts fucking up into you relentlessly, hitting your sweet spot with every strong thrust. You almost scream out in pleasure as you cum hard, squirting on his cock, the pleasure spreading through your body, from your head all the way to your toes.

Hyunjin grunts and moans your name as he throbs inside you, his cock twitching as he explodes, the warm cum spurting inside you and hitting your cervix pushing you over the edge again.

You collapse into his opened arms and you hold each other tightly as you come down from your high.

"You're gonna be the death of me."- Hyunjin whispers into your hair. "I don't mind it, though."- he adds and you chuckle, still trying to get yourself together. You slowly lift off of him and feel his cum drip out of you.

Hyunjin looks down and whines, his hand coming between your legs as he gathers some of his and your cum mixed together, and then brings his fingers to your lips. Your eyes flutter as your wrap them around the tips of his fingers and lick them clean, slowly and sensually, never breaking eye contact with him. You slide down taking more of his fingers in and sucking on them.

Hyunjin bites on his lips before slowly pulling his fingers away from you.

"I think we should sleep now, if we want to be awake for the wedding tomorrow."- he chuckles at your pouty face.

"What time is it even?"- you ask.

Hyunjin looks around for his phone that's also the source of music you've completely forgotten while the two of you were intertwined with each other.

"Oh wow, it's almost 4am."- he laughs and you gasp.

"Okay, you're right, we really need to sleep."- you say and the two of you clean up and get ready for bed.

"Tomorrow's the big day."- Hyunjin mumbles as you melt into his arms.

"Mhm. And basically our last day here."- you say, pressing your lips on his neck.

"We gotta use that to our advantage."- he wiggles his eyebrows, making you giggle as you look up at him.

"Sure, we will."

"I love you."- Hyunjin whispers, lips brushing your forehead.

"I love you."

-

Immediately after breakfast the next morning, you and Hyunjin had to start getting ready for the actual wedding.

He offered to help you style your hair and you helped him with his tie.

Your hands tremble in excitement as you tie it, Hyunjin's eyes never leaving your face.

"Too tight?"- you ask and look up at him.

"No, it's perfect."- he smiles, seeing you in the beautiful dress you had on makes his heart beat wildly in his chest.

You look him up and down, the sight of him looking so freaking handsome in a suit has you folding for him.

"You look unreal."- you say and Hyunjin laughs, throwing his head back a little.

"Really? Have you seen yourself, baby?"- he asks.

"Just take my compliment, okay?"- you chuckle.

"Okay."- he shakes his head, smiling fondly.

The setting of the actual wedding on the beach is ethereal, even though there were so many people and you feel a little overwhelmed, Hyunjin is there to hold your hand.

Both of you are glued to each other, you being a little anxious and him being an introvert, and you feel like you're still in this bubble where it's just the two of you there and no one else.

Nicki looks absolutely breathtaking, the smile gracing her face is probably the happiest one you've ever seen.

You and Hyunjin stand together on her side as she exchanges vows with her soon to be husband. Ofcourse, you can't help but start crying and Hyunjin puts his arms around you, comforting you with his gentle touch and whispers of love.

"Fyi, I want a small wedding."- you say between sobs.

"Oh?"- Hyunjin chuckles and you gasp.

"Ignore that. I don't know why I said that."- your face heats up as you wipe your tears away.

"Good to know. For the future."- he smirks, leaning into you and kissing your cheek.

Everything seems absolutely perfect, the weather, the food, the music, the overall vibe feels impeccable. Especially after the first dance of the newlyweds, when the dancefloor opens for everyone else, and Hyunjin takes your hand in his leading you out to dance under the stars.

It's cliche but you feel like your feet aren't even touching the ground as you glide with your lover, it's like you're floating on air and the rest of the world doesn't exist.

"What happens when we go back?"- you ask, a sudden nervousness washing through you.

"I was hoping you'd be my girlfriend and we can continue loving each other just like this."- Hyunjin smiles, his eyes shiny.

"I love the sound of that."- you smile back at him and lean up to kiss his lips.

You hope the feeling of weightlessness with Hyunjin lasts forever.

(Hyunjin accidentally catches the bouquet later on and everyone teases you that you're next.)

Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght

[formula-ghost]

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 5: Valentine (FINALE)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: The end of the 2024 F1 season brings regret and a newfound desire for reconciliation—but is your relationship with Franco beyond saving?

WORD COUNT: 13k

WARNINGS: Sadness. Angry Hispanic mother. Creepy men in bars (not Franco ofc). Drinking, drunk Franco is a media menace. Use of the word whore jokingly. Smut 18+ MINORS DNI. Hickeys, hair pulling. Dom Franco and sub reader, use of good girl, light choking, Oral (m receiving), p in v, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

SERIES TAGLIST:  @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @xivilivix @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse  @uncreativetm  @ncrsbrg  @tillyt04 @amz824 @ellelabelle

A/N: My baby is now complete!! I did not plan for this to be the ending originally, but as I was writing it just kind of came about, and who am I to anger the writing Gods? Honestly, though, the beginning of this chapter destroyed me trying to find a way to redeem Franco. Fun fact, I very loosely based my depiction of Franco off of my real life ex, which explains why he is so horrible lmao (but unlike my real life ex, Franco has been redeemed!). I cannot express how grateful I am for everyone’s support throughout the writing of this story. More to come, but for now, enjoy!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

All this love, I'm so choked up, I can feel you in my blood

All this lust for just one touch, I'm so scared to give you up

Valentine, my decline is so much better with you

Valentine, my decline, I'm always running' to you

Valentine, Valentine

The block button did nothing to assuage Franco’s obsession with you. In fact, it only made it worse.

If he hadn’t blocked you, he would at least know that you weren’t contacting him. But since he pressed the button, there was now the ever present question of if you had reached out, and if the digital barrier he erected had led it to be lost forever. 

But why would you reach out after what he had done? 

Truthfully, it took everything in you to not call him. You had both said things you didn’t mean—at least, you prayed that Franco didn’t mean them—and you wanted nothing more than to just make up and act like it never happened. 

But the words kept echoing in your mind at night when you couldn’t sleep. You were a distraction.

All the years of supporting him, all the sacrifices you made—all for nothing. 

You couldn’t help that you loved him. And the Franco you knew and loved didn’t mean those things. He couldn’t. 

So you checked your phone’s international clock. It was still night where you were at home, but morning in Abu Dhabi, where he’d be completing his last F1 race tomorrow. 

There was still time. If you called and made up now, you could be there for the final race. You could be there at the end, just like you had been there at all of his beginnings.

So you swallowed your pride, tapped on his name in your contacts, and pressed call. But it didn’t even ring before it hung up. You knew what that meant. He had blocked you.

At first you wanted to puke. You wanted to burst down the stairs of your apartment and run into the street screaming. You wanted to throw a bottle of wine on the walls and cry in the wreckage.

But after a few hours of getting all the crying out, a strange peace fell over you.

It was just… over. That was that.

In the morning, however, the grief came back from a familiar notification. His mother.

You had been putting off her messages ever since your argument with Franco. You couldn’t bear to tell her what had happened. But she was worried about you, evident by her increasingly concerned messages.

You finally gathered the courage to type up a response.

Hi Mami, you began—she had forbidden you to call her by her name, instead telling you to call her Mom—I tried to talk to Franco like you asked. It didn’t go well, and we both said a lot of hurtful things. It ended on bad terms and he ended up canceling all my passes and flights, and I think he blocked me. I’m sorry, I tried to get through to him. Thank you for all the kindness you’ve shown me over the years <3

You read over what you’d typed. It was honest. You could have spared her more of the details, but why? Franco would have to live with the consequences of his actions. That wasn’t your problem.

It was only a few moments later that she responded. Oh dear, I am so sorry. I am ashamed of Franco—that is not the son I raised. I hope you know we all love you, and I wish you all the best.

You liked her message and left it at that. But she called you later that night.

She began, “YN, words can’t describe how sorry I am. What happened?”

“I… I don’t know,” you began, carefully choosing your words. You weren’t quite sure how much you wanted to tell her. “He was already upset when I got there. He kept accusing me of lecturing him, but I was just trying to tell him I was worried. He said… that I was a distraction.”

“I can’t believe him! You have never been a distraction. You’ve been there for him when we couldn’t, we’ve always been so grateful for you.” Her admission nearly brought tears to your eyes. “I just… Dios Mio.” 

The conversation was short, but vulnerable. 

“YN, can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.”

“You had feelings for him, didn’t you?” She asked it as if it were a statement, rather than a question.

You were silent for a beat before answering. “I did. I… I do.”

“Oh, dear, I wish I was there to give you a hug.” You could feel the care in her voice, a soothing comfort. “I want you to know you’re always welcome here, no matter what my idiot son says.”

You chuckled, thanking her for her kindness before ending the call. You were truly grateful for her invitation, but you couldn’t imagine being in Argentina without Franco. The call had felt more like a farewell. 

In Abu Dhabi, Franco was having his own farewells. It was bittersweet; he had worked so hard for so long to get here, but he couldn’t wait for it to be over. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. He just wanted to go home.

Home—the only place he felt like he had left. His Madrid apartment would feel empty without your laughter echoing in the halls. But back in Argentina, the people still loved him, and he could come back to a warm, home-cooked meal.

It was the only thing on his mind as he was forced to retire the car early, ending his last F1 race of 2024 with a DNF. But he didn’t care about that at all when he stepped off his flight from Abu Dhabi to Buenos Aires. 

Unfortunately for him, what was waiting for him at home was not peace and a warm meal. It was a very angry Hispanic mother. 

He came through the door, jet lagged, struggling with his luggage. She didn’t help him. 

When his father and sister ran up to give him a hug and help him in, she didn’t move an inch. She just stayed in the kitchen, silently chopping vegetables with her recently sharpened knife.

After putting away his bags into his room, Franco made his way to the kitchen to greet his mother, who didn’t even look up from her cutting board.

“Hi Mami, I’m home,” he said tentatively.

“Welcome home,” she replied, no warmth in her voice.

“Aren’t you excited to see me?” he joked. He knew he was dodging landmines. He knew she had every right to be angry—he had gotten caught up in everything after Singapore, and after his controversy, he had been dodging her calls and texts, other than to arrange plans to come home for the holidays. Others may have gotten over their frustration, or chose to ignore it for the sake of the holidays. She was not that kind of woman. 

“Oh, I’m thrilled,” she said, her voice flat. “Dinner is almost ready. Can you set the table for five, please?”

“Five? There’s only 4 of us.”

“Well, isn’t YN going to join us?” She already knew the answer. She just wanted to see him squirm as he answered it. He had nowhere to run anymore. 

“Uh… no. Not this year.”

“And why would that be?”

“She’s, uh, busy.” His mother didn’t respond. He had to fill the awkward silence. “And she’s probably mad at me…”

She paused, holding the knife in an iron grip. She lifted it from the cutting board to point towards him. “And why would that be, Franco?”

“Mami…”

“Do not lie to me.” Her voice was cold as ice.

“Mami, it’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to enjoy the holidays and forget about this whole season.”

“I’m sure you do,” she concluded, not an ounce of sympathy in her voice. Franco sighed, getting down the plates to set the table for his family. But he stopped in his tracks when he turned and felt a slipper to the back of his head. 

“Ah! What was that for?” The blow didn’t hurt anything but his ego.

“You know what you did,” his mother seethed. “You can’t run from this forever. Now get out of my kitchen.”

Franco obeyed, muttering under his breath. 

“What was that?” his mother asked.

“Nothing!” he chirped, setting the plates on the table.

During dinner, it wasn’t any better. His father and sister, oblivious to his mother’s rage, chatted as if nothing had happened. They had been angry at his…questionable dating decisions, yes, but they clearly had let it go in the meantime and decided to just enjoy the time together as a family. His mother, however, had not. 

And whenever anyone asked about it, she said she was fine. But she was clearly not fine. 

As Franco took the dishes into the kitchen to help clean up after dinner, he sighed, knowing that his mother was right. He couldn’t go the entire holiday ignoring it—she would make sure of that.

He couldn’t sleep that night. The bed of his childhood home was warm and comforting, but he couldn’t relax under the weight of it all.

Maybe some fresh air would do him good. That’s what he reasoned when he slid open the back door and inhaled the cool night air. He sat cross legged on the back terrace, just taking in the sounds of the serene night. 

That was, until he heard another person closing the door behind him. His mother. 

“Not now, Mami,” he said, not even turning to look at her.

“I’m not going to chastise you.” She handed him a mug of something warm. For a moment they just sat next to each other, sipping their drinks in silence. 

Franco began to speak unprompted. “YN has every right to be angry at me. I…ruined everything. I was so cruel to her.”

His mother just gave him a reassuring hum.

He continued, “She had feelings for me. I know I should have known it sooner, but I was in denial. But I had feelings for her too. And I got distracted. But it wasn’t her fault. I was so worried about my future that I ignored how she had always been there in my past.” 

The mug in his hands trembled and his voice wavered. “She was always there for me. Every race, every win, every failure. She was always there.”

His mother reached for him, lovingly stroking his back as he confessed.

“She probably hates me now. I don’t blame her.” A tear fell into his mug. He turned to look at his mother, her expression far more sympathetic than it was at dinner. “Can I fix it?”

“I don’t know. But first of all, you owe her an apology.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. Because if you did, you would have already done it.” He was silent. “It’s possible that she will forgive you. Or, she may not. You have to accept that.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“Franco,” she began, “you did this. You have to suffer through the consequences of your actions. And if you are lucky enough that she forgives you and wants you back in your life, it’ll be a hell of a lot of work to regain her trust.” 

He nodded. “I’ll do it. I’d do anything.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

He paused. “I’m scared. Scared that it really is beyond saving.”

“The longer you wait, the more likely that is to be true.” 

This time, he actually knew what he needed to do.

Neither of you knew the parallels between you two; each of you pining for the other’s love, wanting nothing more than just to speak to the other. And when he unblocked you and called, it was like the stars aligned.

You didn’t answer. 

He didn’t panic at first. It was close to the holidays, in the middle of the day in your timezone. Maybe you were with your family. 

But as one missed call turned to two, and days of no contact turned to weeks, Franco began to know the bitter taste of his own medicine.

You had seen him call. And yes, you were with your family at the time. You told yourself that was the main reason why you hadn’t answered. As if seeing his contact on your phone didn’t shatter your heart into a million pieces. 

But later that night, when you were finally alone, you couldn’t bring yourself to call him back. He hadn’t left any voicemail or text, just his name and a missed call icon. 

What would you even say to him? He knew you were angry. And you knew you couldn’t just act as if nothing happened.

So despite your desperation to speak to him again, you just let his calls keep coming and coming over the weeks. 

A dark part of you enjoyed having his attention. You waited to see his icon pop up, just to let the call go to voicemail. It made you feel wanted again. 

And you were wanted. When he tried to sleep at night, he wanted you. When he talked with his manager about future plans for the next season—back down to F2—he wanted you. 

Both of you knew it was a delicate balance. He couldn’t keep calling forever. At some point you’d have to answer, or he’d have to stop. But you loved the dark thrill of pushing it. 

And this continued for weeks.

The calls lessened as the F2 season began. Franco was back at work. You had finally let go of the need to watch his races.

But there was another contact you hadn’t ignored: Lily. 

She called you out of the blue one day. “YN! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

The last time you saw her—it must have been Austin—felt like years ago.  

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” you replied. 

“Do you… wanna talk about how you’ve been?” It was late January now. You had spent the weeks just passing time, lost, but somehow also at peace with all of it.

“Um… not if you don’t want to ruin your day,” you joked. Humor was a good coping mechanism, you had learned. You’d grown tired of explaining to people why Franco was no longer in your life. You had once been so intertwined, and now, nothing. You were thankful that she didn’t press further. 

“Well, we should go out,” she suggested. “I know a great new club in Madrid, and Rebecca and I will be there the weekend before Valentine’s Day.”

Valentine’s Day. The bane of your fucking existence. Worst holiday ever.

But you had spent Christmas in a daze, and New Years alone. You didn’t know if you could do another holiday like that, so acutely aware of Franco’s absence. So you agreed. 

But Lily’s phone call wasn’t as out of the blue as you had thought.

One thing about Franco was that he was determined. If he wanted something, he was going to get it. So yes, he called and called and called and let all his calls be missed.

He couldn’t just text you or leave a voicemail. What he needed to say was too important. He needed to see you.  

So he called up the only other woman he knew besides you and his own mother: Lily. 

He pitched the idea simply. He just needed her to arrange something where you and him would meet. Lily was skeptical. 

“Franco, you know when a woman isn’t answering your calls, it’s usually because she doesn’t want to talk to you, right?” 

“I know,” he signed. “I know she’s pissed at me. She has every right to be. I just want to apologize to her.”

“Then why not, like, send her a letter or something? Trying to organize an event where she’s forced to see you is kind of…creepy.”

Deep down, he knew Lily was right. “It’s not like that, though. I just need to see her, say it to her face. If she gets angry and never wants to see me again, I’ll respect her wishes. But I love her too much to not try.”

Lily was a hopeless romantic if nothing else. And Franco was charismatic and too smooth to deny with his one-liners. 

So she agreed. Besides, she knew you needed a girls night.

And you realized it too when Rebecca and Lily came over to your apartment to get ready a few weeks later. 

You vented to them as they helped you apply your eyeliner and zip up your dress—yes, THAT dress—about how hard the past few weeks had been.

“And then,” you explained, as Rebecca dusted a brush along your cheekbones, “he told me that I didn’t need to be there! As if he wasn’t the one who begged me to go!”

Rebecca made a sour expression. “Girl,” she said, “Good riddance to him.”

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you nearly gasped. You looked fucking amazing. 

Yes, you were wearing that dress that always reminded you of him—his favorite color, bought while on vacation to see his family. But if he couldn’t see your beauty, someone else would. And right now, that someone was Lily, as she snapped photos of you all before you left for the club and posted them on her story.

As you entered the club, you felt the bass in your bones. Yes, this was exactly what you needed. 

You drank. You danced. You felt the eyes of tipsy men on you.. And for a while, all your troubles faded away.

You approached the bar for your second drink of the night. A man walked next to you, presumably to order his own drink. You recognized him as someone you’d danced with earlier.

“You look great tonight,” he said, eyeing you up and down. His tone was too sleazy for your liking.

“Thanks,” you said, hoping a short response would end the exchange so you could get your drink and make your way back to Lily and Rebecca, who were waiting for you in a booth. 

“D’you always dance like that?”

“Like what?” 

He smirked. “You’re cute when you play dumb like that.”

You genuinely had no idea what the man was going on about. “Sorry, I need to get back to my friends.”

You turned to leave, but the man grabbed your arm. “Don’t you need to get your drink? Stay a minute.”

You grimaced, but a surge of anxiety kept you frozen to your spot. You turned your glaze to the floor, silently beginning for an out.

“So, what’s your name?”

“Uh…” You were unable to answer. You feigned ignorance. “Sorry, it’s loud in here, I can’t hear you.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to know your name to take you home tonight.”

“What?” You wanted to puke.

The man started to reach his arm out toward your waist. You stepped back and bumped into someone. You cursed your own awkwardness. When you turned to apologize, you saw a familiar face.

Franco. Fuck. You felt your stomach drop. 

“You know this guy?” The man behind you asked.

“She does,” Franco answered for you. You were grateful—you were unable to speak, choked with anxiety. 

“You let your girl act like that?” 

“Fuck off, mate.”

The man took the hint and shrugged, taking his drink and disappearing into the crowd. 

Your eyes were still glued to the floor. “Thank you,” you said. 

“Don’t thank me,” he said, “it’s the least I could do.”

The bartender handed you your drink. Part of you just wanted to go back to Lily and Rebecca and act like all of this never happened. But by the look of Franco’s face, one of grave seriousness, you knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

But the other part of you was thankful. Thankful that Franco had saved you from that creep, yes, but also thankful that the stars had aligned to bring you and your best friend back together. What were the odds?

Wait. Maybe the stars hadn’t aligned.

“Franco, what are you doing here?” 

Now it was him who looked to the floor in embarrassment. “Lily told me you were here. I asked her to help me talk to you.”

“So you… arranged to find me in a club, because I wasn’t answering your calls?” 

Franco may be Latino, but he sure had the audacity of a white man. 

“When you put it like that, it sounds bad…”

You rolled your eyes and walked away. He followed you through the crowd. 

“YN, wait! Why won't you answer my calls?”

“Because I have nothing to say to you.” That wasn’t true. You actually had a lot to say, you were just too afraid to say it.

“Okay, I get it. I fucked up. But will you just listen to me? Please?” 

You just kept walking. 

“YN! Please!” You had nearly reached the booths, and he was still following you. You just kept ignoring him. 

“YN—” You slammed down your drink on the table, startling Lily and Rebecca. When Franco came into view behind you, they exchanged knowing glances. 

You turned around to face him. “Are you really begging?” you whispered in a hushed tone. 

“Yes,” he said, his voice equally low. 

Lily got out of the booth, standing next to you. “What’s the harm in just hearing him out?” she said, low enough that he wouldn’t be able to hear her over the thumping bass. 

You swallowed. The harm? You would fall for him again. And he would hurt you again and again. You’d lose him again. A never ending cycle of pain. 

But his pleading expression in front of you was too much to bear. You couldn’t say no to the man you still loved.

“Let’s get some air, hm?” he said, and you nodded, silently following him back to the crowd. He led you to a staircase where a bouncer nodded and silently let the both of you pass. 

The staircase led to the roof of the club, with a beautiful view of the city. The space was clearly set up for patrons to enjoy, but there wasn’t a soul there besides you and Franco. 

The view took your breath away. You had seen so much beauty when you had traveled the world with Franco for his races, but this was home, and he was warm next to you as he snaked his arm around your waist, silently taking in the sight next to you.

You relaxed into the touch. For a moment, you just let everything fade away into the peaceful scene. 

But as you smelled Franco’s familiar cologne and relished the feeling of his touch, you couldn’t help the anxiety that rose in your throat. It felt like it was choking you. You moved forward, forcing his arm away, and leaned against the railing on the edge of the rooftop.

“Say what you have to say,” you said plainly. 

“I want to apologize.” His opening sentence was simple, yet powerful. “YN, I was horrible to you. I lied and I betrayed your trust. I blamed all my problems on you, when you were the only one who was ever there for me.”

You watched the cars on the road below, like ants in a colony.

He continued, “And you were right, about everything.” 

The silence in the air was thick.

Your voice was shaking when you began. “Franco, you made me feel like I was insane. You… you accused me of using you. You called me a distraction. You said I was disgusting. You uninvited me from the last races and you blocked me.”

“You tried to call?”

“Of course I did.” The tears in your eyes threatened to mess up your mascara that Rebecca had so carefully applied. “I tried to call you before Abu Dhabi. I wanted to forgive you and be there for your last race.”

“Shit, YN… I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I don’t know if I can forgive you now.”

It was him, now, who had eyes full of tears. “YN, I…I love you. I can’t lose you. I know I hurt you, and it kills me. But I miss my best friend. My friend who skipped prom to come to a race. My friend who helped me dry my clothes after she found me trying to use an oven to do it. My friend who is the only one that really gets my sense of humor.”

You finally broke down at his confession. He reached out to hold you.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “I’m here. It’s gonna be okay.”

He let you cry it out, before pulling back and looking at you. He gently used the pad of his thumb to wipe away your tears and fix your smeared makeup.

“I can’t ask for everything to go back to normal,” he said, looking you in the eyes. His eyes were teary, too. “I know I can’t. I did things that are beyond awful. But I promise you that if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’ll do whatever I can to regain your trust. You’re too important to me.”

All you could do was bury yourself in his chest. He wasn’t expecting the sudden gesture, but he slotted his arms around you like they always belonged there. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. You don’t know how long you stood there, warm in his embrace. You could have stayed there for years. 

You were brought out of the perfect scene by the sound of a notification on your phone. You broke the hug after a moment to check it. A text from Lily: everything okay?

You chuckled. “I think Lily is worried about us.”

“Well,” he asked, “is everything okay?”

He wanted an answer. You didn’t know if you could say it. 

But is this not what your entire journey had been leading up to? You had begun writing in your journal to communicate what you feel. And now, you had no choice. 

You were strong. You had changed.

“I want to forgive you,” you said. “But it won’t be easy. It’ll take time.”

“I have all the time in the world.”

“And I can’t promise that I won’t be scared or insecure.”

“Whatever you need, I’ll do. I’ll listen, I’ll show you—”

“Franco.” You cut him off. “I know. I love you.”

You couldn’t name the expression on his face. Like relief. Or love.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. 

You were scared of what door that would open, of how much you truly wanted him to. So you didn’t speak. You just reached up to caress his cheek and tell him with your actions.

Your lips met his, and all the sorrow melted away. You could feel the vibrations of the club under your feet, the gentle pumping of blood through his veins, faster now that he could touch you. He pulled you in by the waist, and you brought your other hand to the back of his neck, making the space between you infinitesimally small. 

But you pulled away before he could deepen the kiss. You couldn’t rush it, no matter how badly you wanted it. 

When you opened your eyes, he had that expression you had grown to yearn for; it gave away how badly he needed more of you. You could feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the thought of his wanting.

“We should go back down before Lily gets too worried,” you said. He smiled and nodded, but as his expression of desire faded away, you saw the familiar signs of anxiety. He didn’t know how far to push, how comfortable to act. 

You grabbed his hand. “And then, you should dance with me.”

His tentative smile grew more relaxed. “Of course.”

Turns out, there’s nothing an honest conversation and a little alcohol couldn’t fix. And in the aftermath of the former, you definitely indulged in the latter—maybe a little too much. 

You went downstairs to retrieve your drink that Lily and Rebecca had so kindly watched for you. It was a little watered down from the ice melting, but it would do the trick. 

Rebecca helped you fix your makeup as Lily glared at Franco for making you cry. He knew he’d have work to do to earn back their trust, too, but he was more than willing. 

So when you were ready, he wasted no time taking you out to the dancefloor to give you the night of your life. 

The only problem was that Franco was not a frequent club goer, and therefore unable to handle his liquor. And you all had a lot to drink that night. 

You finally cut him off when he threatened to get on the table and start stripping. 

“Oh, Lord, Franco, I’m cutting you off, you’ve had too much to drink,” you slurred. You were tipsy yourself, in no state to talk, but at least you were committed to staying clothed for the night. 

“What are you gonna do? Fuck me about it?” he joked, sticking his tongue out playfully. 

You don’t know if the blush on your face was from the drinks or his taunting. But God, even when he was wasted, he looked so good. As the night had progressed, he had become more disheveled, his shirt buttons coming undone to expose his toned chest and a sheen of sweat from all the dancing. He leaned over, running a hand along your cheek. “Bet you would want that, wouldn’t you?” 

“Okay, time to get you home!” you told him. Lily and Rebecca had left a bit earlier, satisfied that their mission was accomplished. 

You got up and tried to corral your drunk friend out of the club. He didn't want to cooperate, though. 

“No, YN, I don’t want to go home! I missed you, dance with me!” He reached out to grab your waist, his hands wandering up and down your body. 

“Franco, you’re drunk,” you said, moving out of his grip. “I’m calling an Uber and getting you home.”

It’s not like his touch was unwelcome. But you were in public and he was inebriated, unable to consent to what he was actually doing. You knew it was time to go. 

You finally dragged him outside as you waited for the Uber on the corner. You hoped the cool night air would sober him up a bit.

“Have I told you that you look fucking gorgeous tonight?” he slurred. You ignored him as you watched the little car icon drive closer and closer. 

“I always loved that dress on you,” he continued, “but it’d look better off of you.”

“Our Uber is here!” you said through your blush. 

But even in the Uber, he was relentless. 

“I missed youuuuu” he cooed in your ear.

“I missed you too, but could you not be a whore for 5 minutes?” you laughed. You hoped the humor would distract him. He lowered his voice to a husky whisper.

“But YNNNNN, I want you so fucking badly. Every part of you, even the parts that you’re ashamed of—fuck, especially those parts. I want to know the version of you that you’re scared to be. I want you to use me like a toy to get what you want. And when I read what you wrote I was… fuck, I couldn’t stop myself. Every day I’d read it and touch myself and wish it was you. God, I just need to fuck you so badly—“ he practically moaned in your ear as his hand again reached to your waist.

You grabbed him by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks. His doe eyes looked up at you, deceptively innocent, hiding behind them the true depths of his lust.

You moved his hand away and let go. He was silent and still.

“Franco, you are drunk. I am going to get you home and you are going to get some rest.”

“I know you’re mad at me. You should be, I’m a fucking idiot,” he slurred. “But you can take it out on me, on my body—“

“Franco! We are in public,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“Is being horny a crime? You can arrest me, put me in restraints—” 

The Uber pulled up in front of your apartment and you wasted no time getting Franco out of the car and up the stairs. You made sure to tip the driver well. 

Franco didn’t even let up as he collapsed on your bed, dizzy from stumbling up the stairs and into your apartment. He grabbed you, pulling you back to the bed, burying his face in your hair.

“You smell so good,” he muttered. You wrestled free from his grip, throwing a pillow back at him playfully. 

“I am not going to fuck you when you’re this drunk. Get changed and go to sleep.” 

He pouted, but complied, undressing agonizingly slowly behind you. You had turned away to give him privacy, but your mind wandered as you heard the shuffling of his clothes. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he apologized, still behind you.

“You didn’t,” you said, and it was true; you loved that he wanted you, just…not in that setting. “Just sleep it off. I’ll take the couch.”

“No, come here,” he said, patting the side of the bed. You turned and jumped, seeing that instead of changing into the pair of old pajamas that he had left at your place many months ago that you had laid out for him, he had just stripped down to his underwear.

“Absolutely not,” you said, your face turning a bright red. “Put some clothes on.”

“But it’s hot in here!”

“Then I’ll take the couch.”

“YN just snuggle with me—”

You cut him off by closing the bedroom door. 

A few hours later, you were convinced that you had the world’s most uncomfortable couch. You couldn’t sleep a bit. 

You filled the hours by scrolling on your phone. The F1 gossip pages were calling your name. 

The reappearance of YN! The former friend (and suspected ex girlfriend) of Williams reserve driver Franco Colapinto was featured in a post from a nightclub in Madrid with current Williams wags Lily Muni He and Rebecca Donaldson. Several attendees also caught videos of her dancing with a mysterious man that is definitely not Franco. YN hasn’t been publicly seen since the 2024 Brazilian Grand Prix, which fans assume has something to do with Franco’s fling with a controversial Argentine actress.

Above the caption was a slideshow: the pictures of you, Lily, and Rebecca on the first slide, and the next being a video of you dancing with the creep. You cringed at the memory.

The top comment made you chuckle: I can’t believe Franco fumbled his 2025 seat AND a baddie. 

You scrolled to the next post. 

Former F1 driver for Williams, Franco Colapinto, spotted in a nightclub in Madrid getting very handsy with best friend YN! 

The two have not been seen together since the Brazilian Grand Prix in 2024. At the time, fans speculated that the two were dating, but sources close to the driver reported that a falling out regarding Franco’s dating controversies during the season led him to cancel her VIP pass for the last triple header.

But luckily for Franco x YN shippers, the pair seem to be quite comfortable with each other again. Do you think they’ll make it official soon? Comment your opinion below!

Fuck. Someone had gotten a video of you trying to get Franco out of the club, and without context, it looked bad.

You were pushing him off of you, yes, but not because you didn’t want his touch. You were just afraid of this exact scenario happening. You prayed a silent apology for his manager. 

Your scrolling was interrupted by the sound of Franco waking up and stumbling into your kitchen for a glass of water. Even with only a few hours of rest, he had slept off the drunkenness, but was left with a horrific hangover. 

You probably should have just pretended to be asleep until he went back to bed. But, against your better judgement, you got up to meet him at your kitchen counter.

He still hadn’t put any clothes on. Typical.

“You alive there?” you joked.

He downed his entire glass of water. “Barely,” he grimaced. “Worth it, though.”

You gave him a half smile. “You’re probably gonna have a million notifications from your manager. I tried my best.” You handed him your phone to watch the video.

“Jesus, that’s how I looked? I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mind. But it’s a good thing that you probably don’t remember what you said.”

“Oh no, I remember.” You blushed. “And I don’t regret a word. I meant everything I said.”

“Franco, when we were in the Uber, you said I could use your body as a toy.” You cringed as you repeated his words back to him.

“I know. Offer still stands.”

“Franco…”

“YN, be honest with me. If I was sober, and we were alone, what would you have done?”

You swallowed. He was sober. You were alone.

He saw the thoughts cross your eyes. He broke the space between you walking to the other side of the counter. He pulled you in by the waist until all that separated you was the thin fabric of your pajamas and his underwear.

The breath had been taken from you. “Talk to me,” he said. You couldn’t. The anxiety choked you. “YN, I’m tired of pretending like I don’t want you.”

“Don’t do this to me, Franco,” you pleaded. “I want this but … we shouldn’t.” You looked away. You couldn’t handle the intensity of his gaze

“Why not?”

“Because… we just made up. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t. I’m here to stay. Trust me. If I promise that everything will be okay, will you trust me?”

You paused. “… I can’t. I don’t trust you. Not yet, at least.”

You had to be honest with him, but it broke your heart to say those words. You didn't know yet if he was genuine, or if his fling with the actress hadn't worked out and he was using you as a placeholder. The thought made you want to puke. 

He loosened his grip on you. Your words felt like a thousand knives going through his chest, but he knew he was going to have to face the very real consequences of his actions. 

“I understand,” he said. “Just let me hold you. I know my words don’t mean much anymore. But I promise I’ll do everything in my power to earn back your trust, and I mean it.”

He buried his face in your hair. “Come back to bed with me.” You knew the request was innocent, so you allowed it, snuggling up into his warm chest and falling asleep as the sun began to peak in the sky outside. “I’m letting go of you. Never again,” he murmured. Both of you knew that it wasn't about the sex, or about how right you felt curled up next to him. It was something deeper, more intimate, than the bare skin that he now innocently wrapped his arm around. 

When you woke up, for a moment, you thought you had dreamed the whole thing. But the soothing sound of Franco’s soft snoring proved you wrong. 

Over breakfast, you laid out boundaries. You both needed to take things slowly, build up the trust that had been lost.

But when you woke up a week later on Valentine’s Day to a bouquet of pink roses on your nightstand, you couldn’t help but blush darker than the petals, remembering the reference from your diary. 

Franco had planned to take you out, and of course, you wore his favorite dress. 

The night was perfect—a little too perfect. In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help remembering the salacious ending to that diary entry, replaying the fantasy over and over in your mind. But as he took you home for the night, Franco was ever the gentleman, perfectly keeping his hands to himself.

The longer you looked at him, the more you wanted him to touch you. 

You had only made it to your apartment for a few seconds when the sight of Franco taking off his suit jacket was too much to bear. You grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a frantic kiss. 

He wasn’t complaining, of course.

He took your actions as a sign, gently pushing you into the wall behind you until you were pinned. His lips never left yours, instead deepening the connection, tongues exploring each other’s mouths.

When you did come up for air, there was a faint hint of your lipstick on him. He chuckled. “Mi amor, what was that?” he teased, stroking your cheek and he looked down on you. He rested his arm above your head, leaning his body into yours. You could feel both of your chests breathing heavily with a growing desire.

“I wanted you.”

“I thought you wanted to wait?” He was right. You didn’t want to rush into physical things so early. Franco had been nothing but respectful and apologetic all week, but still, only those few days had passed. 

“...Yeah,” you said. You were frustrated at him. For being so fucking attractive. For making you want him so badly.

“It’s alright, hermosa,” he teased, “I’m sorry that I’m so irresistible.” Only a week since you all had made up, and he was already back to reading your thoughts.

“Oh, hush.” 

In the following weeks, Franco’s return to racing made resisting him a lot easier. He had asked you to come to a few races, but you had declined. The memories of his time in F1 were too fresh, the wounds not quite sealed. Besides, you didn’t want to be seen in public with him just yet. You hadn’t exactly made your relationship official—though neither of you were talking to other people—and you were anxious for the public eye to be on you again. 

That was, until Franco got a very exciting phone call. 

Carlos Sainz had gotten in a minor biking accident—nothing major, just a sprained wrist, but enough that he needed to take a week off to heal—so Franco would be back in his car.

When he asked you to return to the F1 paddock with him, this time, you couldn’t refuse. 

So that’s how you found yourself in a hotel room with your best friend (and now sort-of boyfriend). 

Before bed on Wednesday night, after a long day of meetings, he wanted nothing more than to come back to the hotel and lay in your arms. And that’s exactly what he did.

You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair. “You nervous for tomorrow?” you asked.

“No,” he answered truthfully, “not one bit.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I mean, I have nothing to lose. Nothing could be worse than the end of last season.”

“Franco, don’t say that.”

“It’s true, though.” He chuckled. “I can’t fuck up any worse than I already did. For a while there, I lost everything.”

You stopped playing with his hair to crane your neck down and kiss the top of his head. “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” you said. 

He sat up, looking you dead in the eyes, his expression as serious as it could get.

“I love you.”

You were taken aback for a moment. You had both said it back in February when you confessed, but it was different now; more real, vulnerable. 

“I love you too.”

“I want you to be mine.” His gaze traced the line from your lips to your eyes, finally meeting you where you couldn’t look away.

“I already am.”

“Then I’m yours, too. And I want the world to know it.”

You finally broke the stare, looking down at the comforter. “I’m nervous about what people will say.”

“YN, who gives a fuck what they say? They’re not here. They don’t know us.” You knew, deep down, that he was right, but that did nothing to temper your anxiety.

Franco playfully grabbed you and pulled you to sit on his lap. You let out a yelp that dissolved into laughter as you saw the smile on his face. 

“I don’t care what anyone says. You’re my girl, yeah?” 

You smiled too. “Yeah.”

“And I'm yours. You wanna prove it?” he teased, pulling down the collar of his shirt, exposing his neck. “Show them all what’s yours, hm?”

“Franco,” you said, blushing, “everyone will see.”

“That’s the point, mi amor.”

“Your manager will kill me if you show up to media day covered in hickeys.”

“I’ll cover them up.” You knew better. He absolutely would not cover them up. He’d wear them like a badge of honor.

But Franco’s refusal to be media trained was one of the many qualities you loved about him.

“Come on, you know you want to,” he teased. He was right. Right now you wanted nothing more than to cover him in love bites, claiming him as yours. 

But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he could read you so well.

“Oh, hush,” you said, grabbing his chin to bring him into another drawn out kiss. 

You trailed the kiss down to his neck, finally giving in to his request. Yes, he was yours. And now the world would see it.

You relentlessly nipped at the rough skin, enjoying the soft but labored breaths that came from Franco. You kissed his earlobes, his jaw, his collarbones, until you found that perfect spot on his neck. He gasped when your teeth met his skin, softly moaning when you gently sunk your teeth in and sucked to leave a bright red mark.

You pulled away, and his expression was one of deep wanting. Sitting on his lap, you could feel him hardening under you, desperate for whatever he could get of you. 

You rested your hands on the hem of his shirt. “This is getting in my way,” you complained.

He wasted no time in taking it off. 

He slid his hands under your shirt too, drawing you closer to him, burying his face in your neck and smothering it with kisses. You gently grinded down on him, giving both of you the friction you so desperately needed.

But you didn’t want to be the focus of the night. You took back control, running your hands through his hair and roughly pulling it, forcing his head back.

His doe eyes on you were full of lust. He paused for a moment.

“Sorry, was that too much?” you whispered, embarrassment beginning to flush your face bright pink.

“Oh no, I..” he panted, “I liked that a lot.”

You smiled, and went right back to your attack on his skin. He ran his hands up and down your back underneath your shirt, teasing with the clasp of your bra.

You felt his phone buzz in his pocket. You both ignored it. 

“YN…” he exhaled, a breathy moan. You pulled back, seeing the red flush on his face. You could feel his excitement beneath you.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his hands tugging at your top.

You weren’t quite sure what to answer. You figured that you’d sit down and talk before your first time. You all hadn’t gone beyond heavy kissing—Franco had been respectful of your desire to wait. But it had been months now, and he’d gone above and beyond to prove that you could trust him.

His phone buzzed again. And again, you both ignored it.

“You don’t have to if you’re nervous,” he said. “We only go as far as you want.”

You nodded, silently giving him permission. He leaned in to softly press one last kiss to your lips before moving to pull off your top.

Only for his phone to ring, ruining the moment.

Your shirt remained on as he fumbled to get his phone out of his pocket and turn it off. But the caller was James Vowels.

You both saw the contact info and knew that the mood had been ruined.

“I’m sorry, amor, I have to take this—” he apologized as you climbed off of his lap and he answered the call.

As he spoke, you took a deep breath, trying to process what had just happened, and what was about to happen before you had been cockblocked by the William’s team principal. 

After only a minute he hung up the call, continuing to apologize. “I’m so sorry, they need me right now.” His voice was full of urgency. 

“It’s okay, go,” you assured him, your tone genuine. He placed a chaste kiss on your cheek before grabbing a Williams quarter zip from the floor to cover up the darkening marks on his neck. 

He raced down to the hotel conference room, hoping that his…little problem would not be visible in what had sounded like a very important meeting. The tone in James’ voice had been one of immediacy, and Franco had no idea what to expect. 

And when he finally made it to the room, he was met with faces both new and familiar: James, his manager, and…Aston Martin employees?

He made a confused face and he gave the group a cursory nod and sat down in the last remaining seat, next to his manager. 

“Oh, Franco, you’re here,” James said, exhaling. “We have some exciting news.”

His manager had a smile that beamed across the room. “We’ve been talking to these lovely folks from Aston Martin,” she said, gesturing to the other side of the table. “It hasn’t been officially announced yet, but soon they’ll be putting out a statement. Fernando Alonso is retiring.”

Franco gave them a polite smile, unsure of what that information had to do with him.

“So, Aston Martin would like to offer you the seat for 2026.”

Franco felt the air leave his lungs. “I…uh…yes,” he said, too stunned to really speak. “Yes, I want it. Where do I sign?”

“Well, not so fast,” his manager responded. “We have a lot to discuss regarding the new contract, brand deals, buying you out of your Williams contract…”

But Franco was on cloud nine. His manager’s words faded into the background. He felt like heaven had opened up, and the absolute novel of a contract that now sat on the table in front of him was dropped directly there by God Himself. He could even hear the chorus of angels singing. 

His presence there was merely a formality, it seemed, as the Aston Martin officials and his manager talked back and forth on minute details for what felt like hours. Nothing would be set in stone today, of course, but she wasn’t lying when she had said that a mountain of work laid ahead of them. 

As the time droned on, the officials filtered out one by one, leaving only Franco and his manager alone in the conference room.

“I’m so proud of you, kid,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “You really earned this.”

“Thank you,” he replied, genuine. 

“Look, go back to your room and get some rest. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. But this is strictly confidential, you hear me? You can’t tell a single soul. Not even your own mother. Not even YN.”

“I hear you.”

“And, tomorrow, maybe cover that up better, yeah?” she said, gesturing to her neck. But Franco felt no shame.

“Well, can’t help that you all called at a very inconvenient time.”

His manager grimaced. “I didn’t need to know that. Get some rest,” she laughed, shaking her head. Even she was too happy to truly scold him. 

When he finally returned to the room hours later, you had already fallen asleep waiting for him. He quietly undressed and got in bed, gently brushing your hair out of your face to gaze on your sleeping form.

You were perfect. He had gotten the seat and the girl; what else could a man ask for?

The morning was chaotic. You had both overslept. 

“I’m sorry about last night, amor,” Franco said as you applied concealer to his neck. “It was urgent, and they kept me there for hours.”

“What was it about?” You gently dabbed a makeup sponge across the reddened skin.

“I can’t say. Strictly confidential. But it’s amazing, you’ll see.” He beamed, but you made a face at him. Smiling flexed his neck muscles and made it harder to cover up the evidence of your intimacy.

At the paddock, it was chaos as usual. It was the return of the Franco Colapinto—now triumphant, having had a solid season in F2 so far—and this time, he walked in with you on his arm. 

The only problem was that Franco kept tugging at the neckline of his quarter zip, and the friction was causing the hastily applied makeup from the morning to smudge, revealing the marks beneath.

Thankfully, no reporters said anything. But the fans online certainly were.

Steamy! Franco Colapinto arrives today at the paddock with suspected girlfriend YN in tow, and the driver appears to have several red marks on his neck. YN and Franco have not confirmed any relationship other than being friends, and this is the first race she has attended since Brazil 2024.

COMMENT: Franco showing up to the paddock absolutely covered in hickeys was not on my 2025 bingo card

COMMENT: Okay but that is so on brand for him. This man simply does not give a fuck and I love it.

You chuckled to yourself as you read the comment. But you tensed up as you felt Franco’s manager walk up next to you. You were already anticipating the earful she’d give you.

“He’s a natural at this, ain’t he?” she asked, more a statement than a question. In the distance, Franco was making a reporter laugh.

“Yeah,” you said. Franco’s manager always made you nervous, for some reason. 

“I’m so proud of him.”

“Me too.” You paused, unsure of whether to broach the subject. “You’re…unusually chipper today.”

His manager laughed. “Yeah, I guess so. But even I have to relax sometimes. I mean, he’s doing a great job.”

“I heard there was some exciting news. Franco wouldn’t tell me what, though.”

His manager’s casual smile now stretched from ear to ear. “Oh yeah, big stuff. But top secret.”

“I can’t wait to hear.”

Media day went smooth as butter. Practice 1 and 2 went perfect. With the arrival of Carlos Sainz, the Williams car had vastly improved, and Franco drove like an expert.

Such was evident by his P8 finish in qualifying the next day; his highest ever qualifying in F1. 

Since your night had been interrupted the day before, your wanting of him hadn’t lessened; in fact, it had grown stronger ever since you realized how you truly were ready. But quali day had taken it out of him, and you knew he needed to rest before the Grand Prix tomorrow.

And on that next day, as you watched him climb in the car from the Williams garage, you hoped that he’d put that rest to good use. You said a prayer for his safety even more than his success.

You held your breath through each lap, silently cheering him on through the knots of nervousness in your stomach. But it seems like your prayer was working; he was gaining places, P8 to P5 only a fourth of the way into the race. 

He boxed halfway, and your eyes traced the lines of his car and helmet as he pulled into eyeshot of you and sped away in only a few seconds. He wasn’t looking at you, of course, but it didn’t matter. Your heart felt like it would burst with love.

At first, you didn’t even notice the cameras capturing your sentimental expression. That was, until you glanced away from his car in the distance and looked toward the screen. You were shocked to see your own reflection, captioned with your job title and ‘Franco Colapinto’s partner.’

He really was yours, now. You smiled at the camera and waved before it cut away to the action. Franco just kept gaining. He had dropped a few places after boxing, but made up for it in no time. P4.

You could hear the commentators through your headphones.

“And really, Franco Colapinto is stunning us all here. As we all remember, he had a rather disappointing end to the 2024 F1 season, but he seems to have come back with a vengeance. A podium is a real possibility for him today.”

Your smile couldn’t be contained. He was going to do this. You knew it. 

With only five laps left, he overtook for P3. The garage cheered. You cheered with them. But it wasn’t over yet. It was a tense, wheel to wheel battle. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

He was able to inch just slightly enough ahead to cinch the spot as he crossed the checkered flag.

The William’s garage erupted in applause.

You ran to meet him as he pulled up the car, catching him when he jumped into the arms of the crowd of William’s employees. He nearly ripped off his helmet and balaclava, grabbed your jaw and brought you into a rough kiss.

You broke with a smile. “I love you, I’m so proud of you!” you said, unsure if he could even hear you in the chaos.

“Te amo, YN,” he said, tears of happiness clouding the edges of his vision. He continued speaking in Spanish, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying over the crowd. He had to break the embrace to go to the podium.

As he stood up there, you beamed with pride below. He really had made it.  

After the podium, you hid away in his driver’s room, waiting for all his media obligations to be over so you could go back to the hotel together. To pass the time, you scrolled. The internet was losing their mind over your hard launch.

And even better, people had already uploaded videos of you and Franco exchanging words of love at the barriers. His words were difficult to make out, but a few dedicated lip readers had attempted to decipher the message. But there was no internet consensus just yet.

You made a mental note to ask Franco what he had said later, but for now, you were sure he was exhausted.  

Your assumption was proven correct as he walked into his driver’s room, rolling his shoulders and sighing. But upon seeing you, his face lit up. You greeted him with more hugs and words of praise.

As you both stood there, holding each other, it was like the world around you melted away. 

“YN, can I tell you something?” he muttered into your hair, hand snaked around your upper back.

“Anything,” you answered, your face pressed into his chest.

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone. You can’t let my manager know that I told you.”

You hummed in response, but he broke the hug to look at you, indicating the seriousness of his statement to come.

“I got a contract for 2026.”

Your eyes went as wide as dinner plates. You were speechless.

“Franco… that’s, oh my God, that’s amazing!” You thought you were going to burst with love for him.

“Nothing is set in stone yet,” he explained, “but she’s been negotiating the contract, and they’ll probably announce it in a few weeks.”

You reached your fingers up to run them through his curls. “You’re incredible.” He blushed.

“I think we should go back to the hotel and celebrate, hm?” he teased.

“You don’t want to go out?”

“We can if you want,” he mused, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “but I think the world has seen enough of us today, yeah?”

So you celebrated in your hotel room alone. The bottle of champagne that decorated the desk of the room was left untouched—but you sure as hell weren’t. 

The podium had emboldened him. He explored the curves of your body over your clothes with reckless abandon. You wordlessly helped him remove his shirt, trailing your eyes of the muscles that were sure to be sore in a few hours. You traced the marks you had left the other day, now beginning to fade.

“My turn,” he joked, bringing his lips to your neck to give you your fair share of love bites. He brought one hand to gently hold your neck, while the other inched further and further up your shirt, teasing the edge of your bra. You felt like you could drown in his touch. You closed your eyes and fell deep into bliss. 

“YN,” he whispered, “are you sure you want to do this? Are we ready?”

You swallowed, nervous. “Yes.”

But he could sense your anxiety, and was hesitant to continue. He pulled back, raking his eyes up and down your form. You couldn’t help your nervousness. But having read your darkest fantasies, he knew what you really wanted. 

“You know, the reason I read your diary is because I knew there was something about you that you try so desperately to hide,” he said, his voice soft and smooth as honey. “I wanted to know whatever part of you that you try to hide away from the rest of the world,” he let his hands trace down the length of your arm, and leaned in closer to whisper in your ear, “and that part of you is that you’re a needy girl who’s desperate to get fucked.” 

A shiver ran down your spine at the vulgarity of his words, a side to him you’d never seen.

He brought his hand from your arm to your neck, gently tracing the curve towards your chin. “And there’s nothing wrong with that, of course.” 

His voice was soft and tender, but when his hand grabbed your chin and forced you to face him, his expression was anything but. “You just needed a man who can fuck you like the desperate girl you are.” Your eyes widened at his words, and you could feel the warmth rush to your cheeks in a rosy blush. 

His eyes met yours. “Just say the word, mi amor. Do you trust me? Will you let me fuck you like you want… no, like you need to be fucked so badly? I can do it. I’m not afraid. I want to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of…” His voice trailed off as he turned his head and closed the gap between you, placing his lips right below your ear. The kiss was soft and made you release your breath. “Say it, YN. Tell me you want this as bad as I do.” 

“You really want this?” you said, your voice almost trembling with anticipation.

His lips near your ear were going to be the death of you. “Of course. Can’t you feel how badly I do?” he whispered. You could feel him beneath you, hardening with every second that went past. You imagined the feeling of grinding your hips down on his length, recalling the memories of only a few days before. 

Oh God, how badly you wanted to. You wanted to give him everything. You could feel his soft breath on your neck, his hands now resting on your waist, tentatively waiting for your permission to resume roaming the curves of your body. But your breath was caught in your throat.

“Franco…” The soft exhalation of his name was all you can muster. “What, amor?” he replied. You swallowed and closed your eyes, knowing your next word would let the floodgates of your desire open.

“Please.”

His lips met your neck in a kiss that was tentative at first, like you were something fragile that could be broken by his touch. But the feeling of his soft lips finally meeting your skin caused you to draw in a breath. 

“You want to take the lead, or should I?” he asked. 

“You,” you answered simply, too distracted by the absolutely heavenly feeling of his velvet lips on your neck.

He hummed in response. “If you ever want to stop, just tell me, okay?”

“I will.”

He placed one final kiss on your neck and helped you take off your top. You felt his eyes undressing you more than his hands.

He wordlessly turned you around to sit on his lap, your back against his chest. His hands traced lower and lower down your stomach until they met the lacy waistband of your shorts.

“Are you going to be a good girl and take these off for me?” he purred. 

“Why would I do that, when I have you to do it for me?” You could tease him right back. He let out a dark laugh, kissing your neck from behind. 

“Little brat…” he cooed, but you took no offense. He slid your shorts off, and you were left with only your bra and panties. He ran his hands up and down your now exposed stomach. His touch was warm and inviting as it traced down to the now wet fabric of your panties. 

He began slowly, just tracing the skin through the fabric, inching lower and lower. He could already feel how wet you were. “Doesn’t take that much to get you going, hm? So wet just from my words.”

You blushed in embarrassment at his teasing. “Shut up…”

“Oh, amor,” he kissed your cheek, your face now turning away from him. “It’s okay. I know how badly you needed this.”

You let out a breathy moan as he began to outline your pussy with the feather-light touch of his fingers. He tentatively dipped his fingers under the fabric, spreading them around your growing wetness as he circled your clit.

Slowly and carefully, he put a finger inside you curling it up to hit that sweet spot. With his other hand, he roughly groped at your chest. He unclasped your bra with one hand, tossing it across the room, and let his free hand paw at your chest and circle your nipple.

“See, bébé, what a reward you get when you use your words and tell me what you want?”

“Yes,” you moaned, breathy and full of desire.

“And what do you want?” he asked.

“I want… you.” The words stuck in your throat, your mind too preoccupied with the pleasure of his thumb swirling softly around your clit and the two fingers now pumping in and out of you. You were vulnerable, at his mercy, but you trusted him. 

“You want me to…?”

“I want you to… to fuck me.”

“Good girls get what they want. You’ve been so good for me, haven’t you? Can you do one more thing for me?” He smirked, removing his hand from your sensitive bundle of nerves. You already missed the friction. 

“Yes, anything,” you promised. 

“Get on your knees for me.”

You obeyed. The sight of you on your knees below him, gazing at home longingly with your big doe eyes, made his cock twitch. But he saw something beyond obedience in your face.

He knelt down next to you. “Are you still nervous?” he asked.

You laughed. “I’m always nervous.” 

He brushed your hair out of your face, removing all the barriers between the two of you. “Do you want to stop?”

“No. I’m just… not as experienced as you. What if I'm not good?”

“You’ve already been so good for me,” he said, cradling your face in his hands. “I’ll guide you.”

You watched him with your innocent eyes as he stood up, unbuckled his belt, and took off his pants. You dug your knees into the pillow beneath you as he shed his last remaining layer of clothing.

He had no right to tease you for being so wet, when his own arousal coated him. His cock was dripping precum, so hard that it nearly hurt.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed, and again, you obeyed. He gently led you to him as you pressed your tongue to the bottom of his length and licked up to the sensitive head.

He moaned. “I don’t think you need any help, do you?” You just hummed as your tongue traced the lines of his veins up and down his shaft, before you took as much of him as you could, closing your mouth to trap him in the warmth.

He grabbed your hair to gently guide you to a good rhythm. You looked at him in admiration, but his head was thrown back, eyes closed in bliss. 

He moved your head faster, and you gagged a bit at his cock filling your mouth. You dug your hands into his thighs. Franco cursed in Spanish under his breath.

Soon, he pulled you away. You were embarrassed. Did you do something wrong?

“God, you feel too good. I can’t finish yet. I want to take my time with you.” He led you back to the bed, finally taking time to gaze at your form laid bare before him.

For a moment, he was silent, just taking in the sight of you. “You’re beautiful, YN.”

You blushed. “You don’t need to flatter me, you already got in my pants,” you joked.

“It’s not flattery,” he replied as he crossed the room to grab a condom from his bag and put it on, “it’s true.”

He returned to the bed, climbing on top of you. “You’re perfect. Every part of you.”

The vulnerable praise made you uncomfortable. “Franco…” 

“Touch me, amor.” You obeyed, bringing your hands to his broad shoulder, bracing for what you knew would come next.

“You may not think you’re beautiful, but I do. And I’ll make love to you as many times as I need to until you believe it.”

You blushed and brought your hands to your face. You were not immune to his Argentine charm. He gently pulled your hands away, kissing your wrists, so he could see your face. 

As he guided himself to your entrance, he slowly and carefully slid inside you with a deep groan. His eyes rolled back into his head at the heavenly feeling of your pussy, and your breath hitched.

He stopped to give you a moment to adjust to his length. You felt filled and warm; all his. 

For a moment he just stayed there, still, looking down at the sight of you stuffed with his cock, ready to be ravished.

“You alright?” he asked, softly tracing circles along your hips with his hands. You nodded through the sweet burn of being stretched on him.

But he could feel the tension in you. “Just relax, YN,” he cooed at you. “I’m going to take good care of you, hm?” 

He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead and you whined. He whispered something in Spanish, too fast and incoherent for you to understand, but with a soft enough tone to recognize the love behind the gesture.

His thrusts at first were slow and shallow, giving you time to adjust. As he gently fucked you, he leaned down to softly whisper sweet nothings into your ears. You felt safe in his arms. 

But soon the softness faded away into lust. You both wanted it, and you showing him by how you sang a chorus of noises the faster he fucked you. His rough thrusts brought forth sinful noises from the both of you, lost in your pleasure. “It’s okay, YN. I know how badly you needed this,” he cooed, his own breath strained. “And I needed it too. I needed to feel you wrapped around me. You feel so fucking good, so tight and wet.”

His words weren’t lost on you. “Fuck, Franco…” you begged between his thrusts. You dug your nails into his back as he continued his unrelenting pace.

“Talk to me, pretty girl,” he said, slowing down for a moment. “You okay? Is it good?”

“So good,” you responded. “Don’t stop.”

He wordlessly continued, pumping his full length into you with reckless abandon. You were sure that your nails in his back would draw blood with how roughly you clung to him.

All you could do was take it, all of him, and let the moans and gasps fall from your lips with every touch.

As he sped up, his tone changed, becoming something rougher. He was clearly emboldened by the noises that left your mouth with every movement.

“I love hearing your pretty little noises. I want you to scream for me. Fucking scream my name,” he commanded. You didn’t have the strength in you, too distracted by how good he felt, burying his cock in you. 

“F- Franco,” you gasped. He pulled back so you could see him and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look him directly in the eyes.

“What’s that, love? Did you say something, or am I fucking you too good that you can’t even speak properly?”

“Franco, I—” you were cut off by your own whine, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Oh, pretty girl,” he cooed at you, “let go. Cum for me.”

You wanted nothing more than to obey him, and you came closer to the edge hearing his command. 

“I want you to look at me when I make you cum,” he instructed. You nodded at him.

But he slowed his pace down to a torturously slow speed, savoring how every inch of him went in and out of your drenched pussy. 

Even with his switch, you could feel that knot in your stomach tightening, threatening to explode as you held his intense gaze. Any self consciousness you would have had was cast aside by your desperate need to obey him.

And when he moved his hand from your hips down to your sensitive clit and began to rub, you couldn’t help but follow his command, climaxing in his arms.

He held you as you let the waves of pleasure come over you, not letting up his soft assault on your bundle of nerves. Even as you began to buck your hips involuntarily from the sensitive touch, he just whispered, “It’s okay, mi amor. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He softly shushed your whimpers of pleasure, gently running his free hand up and down your curves. “Are you okay to keep going? Because you know I’m not done with you yet.”

You didn’t know if you could handle any more, but you sure as hell weren’t going to tell him to stop. You’d waited too long for this, wanted it too badly, to go back now.

You nodded, so he kept going, hitting every spot inside you just right, causing you to throw your head back in pleasure. He was careful not to overwhelm you, taking an even and steady pace, but neither of you could help so heavenly it felt to have him inside of you.

Franco chased his own release, sitting up so he could see your whole body as he fucked you. He held onto your hips hard enough to leave marks, but you’d gladly wear them with pride. 

It didn’t take long for him to pull out and rip off the condom, pumping his hand up and down his length. 

“YN, I’m so fucking close,” he moaned. “Where—”

You didn’t answer him, just leaning down to take him in your mouth. He grabbed the back of your head, roughly pushing you closer to him.

“Don’t stop, you’re gonna make me cum, don’t—” 

He couldn’t finish his sentence before he climaxed, filling your mouth and letting out a low and low groan.

You pulled away from him and swallowed the stickiness that coated your mouth. 

He collapsed on the bed next to you. “Fuck, YN.” You laid down next to him. “That was so good.” His chest was still heaving with the intensity of his orgasm. 

But as he turned to you, the lust left him, growing into something softer as he brushed your hair out of your face. You were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“You okay?” he asked.

You hummed and nodded, closing your eyes and leaning into him, taking in the smell of sex and his cologne. You couldn’t get close enough to him.

He kissed the top of your head. “I’ve got you,” he assured. You were too overwhelmed to say anything. He just held you. 

Eventually, you both got up to take a shower before you both got ready for bed. Snuggled close to him, you felt the quiet warmth of his presence protecting you, and it lulled you to sleep quicker than anything else ever could.

When you woke up in the middle of the night, you checked your phone. The internet sleuths had finally deciphered what Franco had said to you—a heartachingly sweet confession of love. He had said you were his life, his everything. He couldn’t have done it without you. 

Within the thin crack of light from blinds and the streetlights outside, you could see Franco’s backpack, with your diary still in it. If you wanted to, you could have stolen it back. But instead, you left it be, snuggling deeper into the bed to get close to the man you loved who slept peacefully beside you. 

It was true that more work needed to be done until you all could fully communicate with no difficulties—no language barriers, no journals, just heartfelt words. But you knew you both could do it. You loved each other too much to not. 

So you smiled as you felt his arm sleepily wrap around you and pull you close. You were safe. You were home. 

[mononijikayu]

pretending as always — ryomen sukuna.

"Sukuna." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "Do you ever think about us? About how things used to be?" He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if the answer was written somewhere in the shadows. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned. "Things change. People change." "I know, I know." you replied, your fingers tracing the outline of his hand resting on your waist. "But I miss it. I miss us. The way we were before… everything."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: angst, toxic romance, hurt/no comfort, cheating, unhappy marriage, crying, hurt, sadness, pain, character death, grief, unhappy ending, depictions of broken marriage, depiction of grief, depiction of cheating, depiction of death, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of misery, mention of loneliness, cheating husband! sukuna, long suffering wife! reader;

WORD COUNT: 10k words

NOTE: the thought bubble says 'things change, people change.'; the playlist for this chapter alone was just so angsty. like from i'm not the only one to glimpse of us, i really went through it writing this. i decided to write only one sad fic because i feel like putting out casual, together and thirty nine almost at the same time was just really criminal of me to do. so i hope you enjoy this, though!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 900;

if you want to, tip! <3

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ANOTHER HUFF RELEASES FROM YOUR MOUTH. You don’t remember how many you’ve smoked today. But you were sure that it was beyond one pack. This was the only time you could be alone, to think for yourself. To have control. The control you’ve been craving for years and years, one that you will never truly have again. You didn’t need someone to see you out here, to tell you no, to worry about your health. You didn’t need that. Not right now. You needed to be alone. You needed silence. 

You sat on the balcony of your lavish penthouse, gazing out at the shimmering lights of Tokyo. The city was alive, vibrant, a testament to the empire your husband, Ryomen Sukuna, had built. He was the man behind the biggest conglomerate in Japan—a titan in the world of business, feared and respected in equal measure. And you were his wife. 

Once upon a time, you had been someone too. A doctor with a promising career, surrounded by friends, fulfilled by the life you had created with your own hands. Your days were spent saving lives, making a difference, and your nights were filled with laughter and tenderness with colleagues who had become family. You were driven, passionate, and proud of the work you did. But now, as you sat in the lap of luxury, the woman you once were seemed like a distant memory.

Now, you were just his wife. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t love him—you did. You loved him more than words could express. Sukuna was everything to you, and being his wife brought a kind of happiness you hadn’t known was possible. Yet, there was a gnawing emptiness, a void that had grown over the years. As much as you loved him, as much as he adored you in his own way, you knew the truth.

Ryomen Sukuna was not a man who could be kept down, not even for you. He was a force of nature, unstoppable, always striving for more, always looking beyond what he already had. His ambition was a double-edged sword, driving him to unimaginable heights but also pushing him further away from the simple life you sometimes yearned for. 

There were nights when he didn’t come home, when he was out sealing deals or attending extravagant parties where you were merely an accessory. You’d watch him from a distance, surrounded by admirers, his presence commanding attention wherever he went. He thrived in that world of power and influence, and you knew that no matter how much he loved you, that world would always be his first love.

You tried to be content with the life you had with him. After all, you had everything most people could only dream of—wealth, status, and the affections of a man who could have had anyone but chose you. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had lost yourself in the process. You weren’t the doctor anymore, the woman with her own dreams and aspirations. You were simply Mrs. Ryomen Sukuna, a title that came with its own set of expectations and sacrifices.

As the night grew darker, you wondered what it would take to feel like yourself again. Could you ever reclaim the life you had before Sukuna, or had you given up too much to ever go back? And if you did, would you lose him in the process? It was a question that haunted you, even as you curled up in the luxurious sheets of your bed, waiting for him to return home. You loved him. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

Your husband was a man to love—eccentric and electric, a living embodiment of wonder wrapped in the form of a man. His presence was magnetic, a force that drew people in, leaving them captivated by his every word, his every move. Ryomen Sukuna was a personality larger than life, his energy palpable, his enigma undeniable. He filled every room he entered, his laughter loud and contagious, a stark contrast to his own brother, Jin, who was quiet, composed, and unassuming.

Where Jin blended into the background, Sukuna demanded attention. Everyone who met him felt the spark, the electricity that seemed to radiate from him. He was unpredictable, always a step ahead, always thinking of the next big thing. His mind worked in ways that left others in awe, trying to keep up with the whirlwind that was his thoughts and ideas. Loving him was like holding onto a storm—thrilling, dangerous, and consuming.

But for all his vibrance and charm, Sukuna was still a man of cold realities. His work came first, always. No matter how much you wanted to be his priority, the empire he built was what he poured most of his energy into. He was often distant, consumed by the responsibilities that came with being the man at the top. Days would pass where you barely saw him, where his presence in your life felt more like a memory than a reality.

Yet, when he did give you his time, it was genuine and honest. Those rare moments were when you saw the man beneath the mask, the one who cared for you in his own complicated way. His touch was real, his words sincere, and in those fleeting minutes, you felt the depth of his love, even if it was buried under layers of ambition and duty.

There were nights, though, when he would come to bed, slipping under the covers beside you, and in those moments, he was truly yours. Those were the times you held onto, the nights where the world outside his office door ceased to exist, where the only thing that mattered was the feel of his warmth next to you.

His arm around your waist, his breath on your neck—these were the small, intimate moments that made the loneliness bearable. In the quiet of the night, Sukuna would pull you close, and for those few hours, he was just a man who loved his wife, not the untouchable titan he had become during the day.

But as the dawn approached, you knew he would slip away again, back into the world that demanded so much of him. Those nights were a bittersweet reminder that while he was yours, you would never fully have him. Still, you cherished them, holding onto the hope that maybe one day, the man who captivated the world would find his way back to you, not just in the shadows of the night, but in the light of day as well.

If you tried slyly, you could sometimes extract details about his life—small, fragmented pieces of the puzzle that was Ryomen Sukuna. A hint here, a passing comment there. But even after so many years of marriage, he wouldn’t budge.

He was a vault, his thoughts locked away in a place you couldn’t reach, no matter how hard you tried. There were times you sat across from him, watching his expressions, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on behind those sharp eyes, but he was impenetrable. You didn’t know what he was thinking half the time. 

And as the years passed, you began to realize a painful truth: you didn’t know this man anymore. He wasn’t the man you fell in love with, the one who had promised you the world with that charming smile and infectious energy. That man was a memory, fading with every passing day. The man you were married to now was a stranger, someone who wore Sukuna’s face but carried a weight and distance that hadn’t been there before. He was no longer wholly yours, not anymore.

But when he was—on those rare occasions when he let you in, when the walls came down just enough for you to feel the warmth beneath his cold exterior—those moments were everything. His exterior remained hard, a shield against the world and perhaps even against you, but in the quiet darkness of your bedroom, he softened.

The bed you shared became a pure and sacred shrine, a place where the outside world couldn’t reach, where only you and he existed. In that space, the burdens he carried were set aside, and for a fleeting moment, he was just a man, your husband, the one who still held pieces of your heart.

The warmth of his body against yours, the way he would pull you close as if you were his anchor—these were the moments that reminded you of the love that still lingered between you. It was as if, in that bed, time stood still, and the distance that had grown between you disappeared, leaving only the two of you, as you once were.

And though those moments were few and far between, they were enough to keep you holding on, hoping that perhaps, one day, the man you fell in love with would return to you, not just in the night, but in every aspect of your life together.

You lay beside him in the dark, feeling the weight of the silence between you. His arm was draped over your waist, his grip firm but gentle. It was one of those rare nights when he was fully present, when the business world he ruled seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. You turned slightly, your face inches from his, searching his eyes for something—anything—that might bridge the gap that had grown between you.

"Sukuna." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "Do you ever think about us? About how things used to be?"

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if the answer was written somewhere in the shadows. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned. "Things change. People change."

"I know, I know." you replied, your fingers tracing the outline of his hand resting on your waist. "But I miss it. I miss us. The way we were before… everything."

His eyes finally met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flicker there—regret, maybe, or a trace of the man you once knew. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that familiar unreadable expression.

"I’m still here. I always have been." he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "I never left. And you know that."

"Physically, yes, I know. But I just….It’s just." you murmured, a hint of bitterness creeping into your voice. "Sukuna, it’s like I don’t know you anymore. You’re not the man I married. You’re not the man who promised me the world. And I don’t know where he is. And I want him back.”

He didn’t flinch, but you felt the slight tension in his arm as he pulled you a little closer. "The world isn’t what it used to be. It won’t ever be what it was, you know that." he replied quietly. "And neither am I. And you know that too. But I’m still here. I’m still your husband.”

You sighed, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "But when you’re here, like this… it’s different. For just a moment, it feels like nothing’s changed. Like it’s just you and me, the way it used to be. I wish we could stay here, like this, forever."

He didn’t respond right away, but you felt his grip on you tighten, his thumb brushing softly against your skin as if to reassure you. "This bed, our bed…." he said slowly, his voice rougher than usual, "it’s our sanctuary. It’s the one place I can forget about everything else. But you know I can’t stay here forever. Not when the world calls me, not when it needs me.”

"I know that." you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. You needed him too. You needed your husband. And he will never see it. Not even when he tries. "But I can’t help wishing you would. That maybe, just once, you’d choose me over everything else. Like you used to.”

He was silent for a long moment, his breath warm against your hair. When he finally spoke, there was a softness in his voice that you rarely heard. "If I could, I would. You’re the only thing that keeps me grounded, that reminds me I’m still human. But I can’t give you all of me. Not anymore. I have things to do too.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall silently. "I just wish… I wish you’d let me in, Sukuna. I want to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. I want to know the man I’m sharing this bed with."

He didn’t answer right away, and you knew he wouldn’t. Instead, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead in a rare, tender gesture. "I’m here now, you know?" he whispered. "Let’s just… stay in this moment, just for tonight."

You nodded, unable to find the words to say anything more. You clung to him, holding onto the warmth of his body, the rare softness of his embrace, knowing that when morning came, he would be gone again—pulled back into the world that demanded so much of him. But for now, you had this, and it would have to be enough.

It sounds more romantic than it actually is in reality. What you shared with Sukuna was far from the idyllic love story others might imagine. It was a volatile existence, a solitary one. A lonely existence. There were no whispered secrets in the dark, no playful banter or stolen glances across the room. There were no soft gazes filled with unspoken affection, no tender moments that lingered long after they ended. With Sukuna, you got the raw, unfiltered version of him—a man stripped of any pretense or facade.

Sukuna was not a man of many words, and that held true even during the most intimate moments between you. He was silent, his focus intense, his mind seemingly elsewhere even as he was with you. There were no sweet nothings exchanged, no promises of forever whispered into your ear. He was a man of action, not words, and even less so when you were in bed together.

Yet, despite the lack of verbal communication, there was one thing he always maintained—eye contact. His gaze never wavered, never strayed from yours, and in those moments, you saw something in his eyes that you rarely saw anywhere else. His eyes were earnest, and that sincerity was the closest thing to vulnerability he ever allowed himself to show. It was as if, in those brief moments of connection, he was telling you without words what he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud.

But even that small comfort was fleeting, a temporary solace in a relationship that often felt more like a battle than a partnership. You loved him, but it was a love laced with pain and longing, a love that left you feeling more alone than ever. Because while his eyes might have been honest, they also held a distance that you couldn’t bridge, a reminder that even in his most vulnerable moments, Sukuna was still just out of reach.

So you took what you could get—the warmth of his body against yours, the rare tenderness in his gaze—and tried to ignore the aching loneliness that gnawed at you in the silence that followed. Because at the end of the day, you knew that this was the only version of Sukuna you would ever truly have. And for better or worse, you had to make peace with that.

You lay there in the quiet aftermath, your body still humming from the intensity of it all. But as the warmth began to fade, reality seeped back in. The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the things left unsaid. There was no gentle touch, no soft embrace to pull you closer. Sukuna remained beside you, but there was a distance, an unspoken barrier that kept you apart even when you were lying inches away from each other.

This was your life—a series of fleeting connections punctuated by long stretches of solitude. You had learned to navigate this existence, to find comfort in the small moments, even if they were far from the grand romance you had once imagined. But it was a lonely existence, one that often left you feeling hollow, as if a piece of you had been carved out and left behind somewhere along the way.

There was no pillow talk with Sukuna, no lingering in the soft afterglow. Not like it used to be, when you greeted the morning light talking and talking. The man beside you was not one for such things. He was not the type to reach out and hold you close, to whisper sweet reassurances that everything would be okay. He simply wasn’t built that way, and you had long since stopped expecting him to be.

Instead, there was just the raw version of him—the man who was silent in his love, who showed it in ways that were hard to decipher, in ways that often left you questioning if it was there at all. His love wasn’t gentle or easy; it was fierce, consuming, and at times, almost indifferent. But it was there, hidden beneath layers of responsibility, power, and the iron will that had made him who he was.

Sukuna’s eyes were the only place where you could see that truth, where you could catch a glimpse of the man beneath the exterior. Even during sex, when his body was moving against yours with a deliberate intensity, his eyes stayed locked on yours, never wavering.

There was something disarming in that gaze, something that spoke of an honesty he couldn’t express any other way. It was in those moments, brief as they were, that you felt a connection, a thread of intimacy that tied you to him, even if it was fragile and frayed.

But as much as you clung to those moments, they were never enough to fill the void. The bed, which had once felt like a sanctuary, now seemed more like a cold, empty place where two strangers shared space but not lives. You would turn to face him, hoping for something—a word, a touch, anything to bridge the gap—but he remained still, his mind already miles away, lost in thoughts you could never reach.

And so you would close your eyes, trying to hold onto the fleeting warmth of his body next to yours, trying to convince yourself that this was enough, that you could live with the silence, the loneliness, the distance. Because at the end of the day, he was still the man you loved, the man who had once promised you the world.

But that promise had faded, just like the warmth that now ebbed away in the cold, empty silence of the room. And as much as it hurt, you knew that this was all there would ever be—a man you could never fully have, a love that was always just out of reach, and a life lived in the spaces between what was and what could have been.

You cry a lot about how life has let you suffer this way. The tears come in waves, usually in the quiet hours of the night when the weight of it all feels too heavy to bear. You cry for the life you thought you would have, for the love that feels like it's slipping through your fingers, for the man who promised you everything but gave you only fragments. The pain of it all has become a constant companion, a dull ache that lingers even in your happiest moments, because you know, deep down, that things will never be what you once dreamed they could be.

You knew about the women. You’ve always known. The whispers that reached your ears, the subtle changes in his demeanor, the way he would smell of a perfume that wasn’t yours. You knew about the women he took to hotels, the ones he wined and dined in the finest restaurants, the ones he spoiled with gifts and attention that you used to believe were reserved for you alone. You knew about the strip clubs, the fleeting kisses at bars, the meaningless trysts that filled the void you couldn’t seem to reach.

But knowing and seeing were two different things.

The image before you feels like a knife to the gut, twisting with a cruel precision. She’s beautiful, laughing at something Sukuna has whispered into her ear. They’re sitting too close, his hand resting on her thigh as though it belongs there.

His expression is relaxed, the mask he wears with you completely gone. This is who he really is, you think to yourself. You could feel this bitter realization curling in your chest. You feel like you were going to be sick.

For a moment, your legs threaten to give way beneath you. The restaurant is dimly lit, the low hum of conversation and clinking silverware suddenly drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears. You’ve been here before. It’s one of his favorites—one you thought was yours too, where he used to look at you with that same easy smile.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, urging you to flee, to turn away before the pain can deepen. You take a step back, and then another, the darkness of the entrance swallowing you whole as you move further from the scene. It’s as if you’re in a dream, your body moving on autopilot, one step after another, until you’re out on the street, the cool night air hitting your skin like a jolt.

You keep walking, eyes unfocused, the city lights blurring into a haze of colors. The truth is, you don’t know where you’re going. All you know is that you can’t stop moving. Because if you stop, if you allow yourself to think, to feel, the walls you’ve built around your heart will collapse, and you’ll be left with nothing but the agony of what you’ve lost. Or perhaps, of what you never truly had.

You knew everything. And yet, you pretended as always, especially when he came home. Because he always did. No matter how many nights he spent in the arms of someone else, no matter how many times he broke your heart with his affairs, he always came home to you. And you clung to that, as painful as it was, because it was the one thing you had left—the knowledge that, for whatever reason, he chose to come back to you.

You knew everything. And yet, you pretended as always, especially when he came home. Because he always did. No matter how many nights he spent in the arms of someone else, no matter how many times he broke your heart with his affairs, he always came home to you.

And you pathetically clung to that, as painful as it was, because it was the one thing you had left—the knowledge that, for whatever reason, he chose to come back to you. That he'll always choose to come back to you. And only you.

The sound of his key turning in the lock was your cue to slip the mask into place, smoothing out the cracks in your facade. You could hear the soft rustle of his coat as he shrugged it off, the faint smell of that foreign perfume clinging to the air. It was like a slap in the face, but you swallowed the bitterness down, forcing yourself to stay calm.

“Hey.” he called out, his voice casual, as though nothing were amiss. As though he hadn’t just spent hours with someone else.

“Hey.” you replied, keeping your tone light, as if you hadn’t been waiting in silence, wondering who he was with, what she looked like, if she made him laugh the way you used to.

He stepped into the room, his gaze brushing over you, taking in the sight of you curled up on the couch with a book in your hands. It was a scene of domestic tranquility, one you’d perfected over the years. You’d become a master at hiding the turmoil beneath the surface, at pretending that everything was fine.

“How was your night?” you asked, the words slipping out easily, as if they weren’t laced with the weight of unspoken truths.

“Busy.” he replied, moving toward you. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into him, to savor the warmth of his presence. This was the part you held onto—the part where he came home, where he chose you, if only for a few fleeting hours. “Did a lot of meetings. It was dull. Like always.”

But even as he pulled away and headed to the bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel the coldness seep back in, the emptiness that settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew he’d be gone again tomorrow, off to chase whatever thrill he found in the arms of someone else. 

Still, you clung to that tiny thread of hope, the one that told you he would return. Because as long as he came home, as long as he kept choosing you, there was a part of you that could pretend—pretend that it was enough, that you were enough. You knew that you were tearing yourself apart. Apart from this man. But you were stuck. You didn’t know how to get out. Not when you can’t bear separation.

It was a cruel cycle, one that left you feeling shattered and hollow, but one you couldn’t break free from. You pretended because it was easier than confronting the truth, easier than acknowledging that the man you loved was also the man who was tearing you apart. You pretended because you wanted to believe that, despite everything, there was still something left between you, something worth holding on to.

Because as much as he hurt you, as much as he used other women to fill whatever void he was running from, you knew one thing with absolute certainty: he loved you. He might have been distant, cold, and unfaithful, but that love was there, buried beneath the layers of deceit and betrayal. It was a twisted, painful love, one that hurt more than it healed, but it was real. And that’s what made it so hard to walk away.

He loved you, and it hurt you. It hurt because that love wasn’t enough to stop him from seeking out others, from indulging in pleasures that had nothing to do with you. It hurt because that love didn’t protect you from the heartache, didn’t shield you from the loneliness that came from sharing a bed with someone who was only half there.

But it was love nonetheless, a sick, unadulterated, gut-wrenching love you can never truly escape even if you wanted to. and you clung to it with everything you had, because without it, you weren’t sure who you would be anymore.

So you cried, and you pretended, and you waited for him to finish his shower, knowing that when he did, you would smile, you would act as if nothing was wrong, as if your heart wasn’t breaking a little more each day. Because you loved him, too, and that love was the only thing holding you together, even as it threatened to tear you apart.

The stairs creaked with every step, and you quickly wiped the tears from your cheeks, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. You knew the routine by now—how to mask the pain, how to put on a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the steps, and you braced yourself, slipping into the role you had perfected over the years. He’d gotten out of the shower and dressed.

Sukuna walked back into the living room, his presence filling the space like a storm cloud. He glanced at you briefly, his expression unreadable as he walked in front of you. You could still smell the faint scent of a perfume that wasn’t yours, the remnants of a night you knew all too well. It was as if he was mocking you. It was as if he wanted you to know.  But you didn’t say anything. You never did.

“Did you have dinner yet?” you ask him, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. “There’s still some soba I made for dinner.”

He hums in response, reaching for your hand, his touch warm but somehow distant. “Maybe later, I’ll heat it up myself. Let me stay here with you for a bit.”

You nod, pretending to be satisfied with his answer, even though you know it’s a lie. “Okay, that’s fine.”

You make some space for him to sit beside you, but instead, he lowers his head onto your lap, his body stretching out along the couch. The gesture is familiar, almost comforting, but tonight, it feels like a weight pressing down on your chest. You feel the bile rise in your throat as he closes his eyes, humming softly to himself, as if this moment is as peaceful for him as it is tormenting for you.

You force your fingers to move, to edge along the tips of his fuchsia-colored hair, the strands soft beneath your touch. The motion is automatic, a habit born from nights like these, where you pretended that everything was still okay. But as you purse your lips into a tight line, trying to keep your composure, you feel the tears threatening to spill over, the pain clawing at the walls you’ve built around your heart.

Not now, you tell yourself. Not now. You can’t break, not here, not while he’s with you.

You swallow hard, pushing down the surge of emotions that threaten to rise to the surface, and speak in a voice you barely recognize as your own. “You worked hard.”

He opens his eyes, his gaze meeting yours in the dim light of the room. “So did you.” he whispers, his tone soft, almost tender.

His words, if they were meant to comfort you, only deepen the ache inside you. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, forcing a small, hollow smile as you continue to stroke his hair. Because that’s all you can do—pretend that this moment is enough, that his presence here is enough to make up for all the nights he’s been away, all the lies you’ve told yourself just to keep going.

He closes his eyes again, sighing softly, and you watch him, your fingers never faltering in their gentle rhythm. And as you sit there, with his head in your lap and the soba cooling on the kitchen counter, you realize that this is what you’ve become—someone who is willing to live in the spaces he leaves behind, someone who clings to the small moments he offers, even when they’re built on a foundation of lies.

“I missed you, Sukuna.” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

“I know.” he replied to you, in a tone that knows. A tone that reveals it all. He knew that you know, you weren’t a fool. You were too smart for it. And yet, here you are. With him, his lying, selfish self, loved by you. “I’m here now.”

You nodded, knowing that was the most you would get from him. “I’m glad you’re home.”

He didn’t respond, but you could feel the tension in his body slowly easing, his breathing becoming more relaxed. You knew this was as close as he would come to letting you in, and you tried to take comfort in it, even though it wasn’t enough.

You lay there in silence, your hand still resting on his chest, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing. You wanted to say more, to tell him how much it hurt, how much you wished things could be different. But you knew it wouldn’t change anything. He would always come home, but he would never truly be yours.

So you stayed quiet, pretending for him, for yourself, for the fragile love that still tied you to him, even as it slowly unraveled. You pretended that this was enough, that the fleeting moments of closeness were worth the nights spent alone, the tears shed in silence, the knowledge that he would never be wholly yours.

And in the dark, as you lay beside him, you let yourself believe the lie, if only for a little while. Because sometimes, pretending was the only thing that kept you going.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN YOU HEARD THOSE WORDS. The doctor's words echoed in your mind as you drove home, your knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. "A few months, at most," he'd said, and you'd nodded, thanked him even, before walking out of the clinic in a daze. The sky outside seemed unchanged, the world continuing its indifferent spin, while inside you, something had irrevocably shifted.

When you finally made it home, you sat down, the weight of everything settling onto your shoulders like a heavy blanket. The familiar surroundings seemed distant, like you were seeing them through a fog. The elegant decor, the soft lighting—everything was perfect, just as it always was, but it felt like a set piece now, like something you were watching from afar.

You tried to think of what you should do next, what anyone would do with such news. Should you cry? Scream? But nothing came. Instead, a strange sense of calm washed over you, like the stillness after a storm. Maybe this was it—God's way of freeing you from this misery, this life you’d never truly lived.

A miserable existence, that’s what it was. A life spent in the shadow of Ryomen Sukuna, the man who was everything to everyone, and nothing to you. The man who had captured your heart and soul, only to lock them away somewhere deep inside, where they withered, starved of the love you so desperately needed. You’d given everything to be his wife, to play the part in the perfect narrative he’d constructed, and in the process, you’d lost yourself.

The relief that bubbled up inside you was unexpected, but undeniable. You wouldn’t have to suffer much longer. No more pretending, no more aching for a love that would never be yours. No more nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering why you weren’t enough. Soon, it would all be over. You wouldn’t have to endure this life, this love, for much longer.

You decided then and there—you wouldn’t tell him. What would be the point? He was a man consumed by his empire, by his power, and you were just another piece of his world, another part of his success. Telling him would only disrupt the perfect narrative he had written for himself, and you couldn’t bear to see the indifference in his eyes when he realized that your story was ending.

No, you would continue to be his wife. You would play your part until the very end, letting yourself fade quietly from the narrative, just as you had faded from his heart. And maybe, when it was all over, when you were gone, he might feel something—a twinge of regret, perhaps. But that didn’t matter. Not anymore.

In the stillness of your home, a peculiar sense of peace enveloped you. The silence was heavy, but it was a silence of your own making, one that spoke of an end and a release. You had loved Sukuna with a depth that was both profound and consuming. Your love for him was a force that had shaped your days and your nights, driving you to care for him in ways that went unnoticed and unappreciated. 

But as you faced the reality of your impending departure, a bittersweet calm settled over you. The weight of your unrequited love, the fatigue of constantly giving without receiving, was finally lifting. You had poured your heart into a relationship where your love was met with indifference and infidelity. You had tried to make him see, tried to make him understand, but in the end, the love you gave was never truly reciprocated in the way you had hoped.

Now, as the days dwindle and the finality of your situation becomes undeniable, you found a strange comfort in knowing that the end was near. The thought of liberation from a love that had only ever been one-sided was both heart-wrenching and soothing. You were tired of the endless cycle of giving and waiting, of hoping for something that would never come. And in the quiet of your home, you felt a sense of relief at the prospect of being free from this endless cycle of emotional exhaustion.

That night, when Sukuna returned home, you greeted him with a facade of normalcy. Despite the heavy burden of your knowledge, you smiled at him with a warmth that belied your inner turmoil. You continued to dote on him, serving him his favorite dishes with the same loving care you always had. Every gesture, every touch, every look was a continuation of the role you had played for so long.

You carried on as if nothing had changed, maintaining the pretense of a happy, loving wife. Your actions were deliberate, a final testament to the depth of your love and the extent of your sacrifice. You wanted to give him one last glimpse of the love he had taken for granted, to remind him of what he would be losing, even if he would never fully grasp it until it was too late.

You went through the motions of daily life, engaging with him, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes. The facade was not just for him, but for yourself as well—a way to preserve a semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos of your emotions. You wanted to leave him with the memory of a wife who had loved him deeply, who had cared for him until the very end, despite everything.

In the quiet moments alone, after he had gone to bed, you would sit in the darkness, feeling the weight of your impending departure. You would reflect on the years you had spent loving him, on the moments of joy and sorrow that had shaped your relationship. And as you faced the end, you found a strange sort of solace in knowing that you would finally be free from the constraints of a love that had never truly been mutual.

The peace you felt was not without pain, but it was a relief nonetheless. You had loved Sukuna with all that you were, and now, as you prepared to leave, you took comfort in the knowledge that you would soon be free from the sadness and longing that had defined your existence.

Sukuna looked up from his plate, his gaze lingering on you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. He could see a flicker of something in your eyes that he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“You seem... unusually happy tonight,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of both surprise and suspicion. “Is something going on?”

You met his gaze, a faint smile on your lips that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It’s been a long time since we had a dinner like this, just the two of us.”

Sukuna’s brow furrowed as he studied you. “Yeah, it has. We’ve been so wrapped up in our own worlds that it’s easy to forget what it was like before everything got so complicated.”

You nodded, your fingers nervously twisting the edge of your napkin. “I’ve missed this—being with you like this, without all the distractions and complications. It feels like a rare moment of normalcy in the chaos.”

Sukuna’s expression softened, but there was an edge of concern in his eyes. “You seem more at peace than usual. Is everything okay? You’ve been acting... different lately.”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “I’ve just been reflecting on things. It’s strange how time changes everything, how we lose sight of what really matters until it’s almost too late.”

Sukuna’s gaze grew more intense, his unease palpable. “Reflecting on what? You’ve been acting like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “It’s just... I’ve been thinking about how we’ve lost touch with each other. How we’ve let life get in the way of what really matters.”

Sukuna’s eyes searched for yours, trying to grasp the depth of your words. “Are you saying there’s something wrong? Something you’re not telling me?”

You looked away, your smile faltering. “It’s not about something wrong. It’s about realizing that sometimes, we need to appreciate the moments we have, even if they’re fleeting.”

Sukuna’s confusion deepened, his concern growing. “You’re scaring me. Why are you talking like this? What’s going on?”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, your heart aching with the weight of the truth you couldn’t reveal. “I’ve just been feeling... reflective. It’s hard to explain, but I’m grateful for these moments, even if they’re all we have left.”

Sukuna reached out, his hand gently grasping yours. “Are you trying to tell me something? You’re acting like this is a goodbye.”

You pulled your hand away, the pain in your chest almost unbearable. “It’s not a goodbye. It’s just... a realization. I want to make the most of the time we have, to cherish these moments together.”

Sukuna’s face fell, his worry evident. “You’re making it sound like something terrible is happening. If there’s something you’re hiding, you need to tell me.”

You shook your head, forcing yourself to smile through the tears that threatened to spill. “It’s not about hiding anything. It’s about acknowledging that even when things are difficult, we can still find moments of happiness. I wanted tonight to be one of those moments.”

Sukuna looked at you with a mixture of sadness and confusion, his frustration clear. “You’re not making any sense. Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

You stood up from the table, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze any longer. You smiled at him. And even at that moment, he noticed. He noticed it didn’t go up to your eyes. “I can’t. Not yet. I just needed you to understand that despite everything, I’ve always cherished our time together.”

Sukuna watched you with a heart heavy with concern and regret, as you walked away from the table. "Do you still want some wine?"

"No." Sukuna whispers under his breath. "I'm fine."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

YOU WERE GOOD AT PLAYING ROLES. Sukuna didn't suspect a thing. You continued playing your part, showing up at events, smiling when required, and being the perfect wife that the world expected you to be. He remained oblivious, too wrapped up in his own world to notice the subtle changes—the way your laughter had lost its warmth, the way your eyes seemed distant, even when you looked directly at him.

He carried on with his life, his empire growing ever larger, his influence spreading like wildfire. And on the side, there was her—the woman he met in secret, the one who made him feel alive in ways that you no longer could. He didn’t care to hide it anymore, not really. He knew you knew, but in his mind, it didn’t matter. You were his wife, his possession, and that was enough.

The restaurant was bathed in a warm, subdued light, its cozy ambiance a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Sukuna's heart. He sat across from his date, his smirk easy, a deliberate mask concealing the turbulent emotions beneath. His eyes roamed lazily over the flickering candlelight, his drink half-empty, the conversation flowing smoothly. It was supposed to be an escape, a fleeting distraction from the complexities of his life.

The phone buzzed on the table, its vibration slightly jarring against the relaxed hum of the evening. Sukuna glanced at it, a shadow of irritation crossing his features. He almost ignored it, but a nagging instinct—something primal and insistent—prompted him to check. The screen lit up with an urgent message, and as he read the words, his smirk faltered, replaced by a sudden, unsettling pallor.

His hand trembled slightly as he answered the call that followed.

“Mr. Sukuna, I’m terribly sorry to interrupt your evening. There’s been an emergency. Your wife—she’s collapsed and has been rushed to the hospital. The situation is very serious. You need to come immediately.”

Sukuna’s mind reeled, struggling to process the gravity of the message. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, a cacophony of fear and disbelief.  “What? No, that can’t be right. Are you sure? What happened?” His usual bravado turned into worrisome, strained whispers. “My wife was healthy when I left her at home.”

“Yes, I’m certain. She was rushed in a couple of minutes ago. The doctors are doing everything they can, but it’s critical. Please come to the hospital right away.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving Sukuna staring blankly at his phone. The realization of what he had just heard began to sink in, each beat of his heart echoing with a growing dread. Without a word, he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“Suku? What’s going on? Where are you going?” Her face is a mask of confusion and concern. “Suku–”

 “I—I have to go. It’s an emergency.” His voice barely more than a whisper, laden with panic.

He didn’t wait for any further questions or explanations. His mind was a chaotic whirl of thoughts as he left the restaurant, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm inside him. The drive to the hospital was a blur, the city lights streaking by in a disorienting haze. Every turn, every red light seemed to stretch time, amplifying his growing sense of dread.

Inside the emergency room, the atmosphere was clinical and cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of the evening he had just left behind. The cacophony of beeping monitors and hurried voices created a symphony of chaos that matched his inner turmoil. He pushed past the reception desk, barely acknowledging the questions they asked him. All he could think about was reaching you, seeing you, and holding onto whatever fragments of hope remained.

“Sir, you need to wait here. We’re in the middle of an emergency procedure.” The nurse said firmly, as Sukuna tried to approach.

Sukuna’s eyes fixed on the form lying still on the gurney, a sight that twisted his insides with a profound ache. The resuscitation efforts were intense, a desperate dance between life and death. He felt a profound sense of helplessness, the cold efficiency of the medical staff contrasting sharply with his own emotional chaos.

 “Please, I need to be with her. I have to—” His voice breaking, a raw plea. “Please let me through—”

“Sir, we need to focus on the procedure. You can’t be in the way.”

Sukuna was forced to retreat, his heart sinking as he slumped against the wall, his fists clenched in frustration and fear. The minutes dragged on, each second feeling like an eternity. He stared at the closed doors of the emergency room, the gnawing fear that he might lose you forever consuming him.

In the cold, stark hallway of the hospital, Sukuna felt his world unraveling. The veneer of control and dominance he had always relied on was gone, replaced by a gut-wrenching vulnerability he had never before experienced. He was left alone with his thoughts, confronting the painful truth that he had been given a chance to face his own failures and regrets.

Everything they could, they tried—but it wasn’t enough. He could see it in their eyes, in the frantic movements that were becoming more desperate by the second. He shouted at them, his voice rising to a roar, demanding they do something, anything. He wasn’t used to feeling powerless, wasn’t used to being afraid. But in that moment, as he watched you lying there, unmoving, unresponsive, fear gripped him in a way it never had before.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not now, not when he’d taken you for granted for so long. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. You had always been there, always been his, and he’d never truly appreciated it. And now, as he watched the life drain from you, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time—genuine, bone-deep terror.

When the nurses finally stopped, when they turned to him with those solemn expressions, he knew. They didn’t have to say a word. He pushed past them anyway, falling to his knees beside your bed, his hand grasping yours, still warm but lifeless. You were slipping through his fingers. He didn’t want to free you — not yet. He needs you. He still wants you.

“Don’t do this, not yet.” he whispered, his voice breaking, something it never did. “You can’t leave me. You don’t get to leave me.”

But you were already gone. The silence in the room was deafening, and for the first time in his life, Ryomen Sukuna felt utterly and completely helpless. 

Sukuna stayed by your side long after the nurses and doctors left the room, long after the machines were turned off, and the sterile, mechanical sounds faded into an unbearable silence. He gripped your hand tightly, as if somehow, by sheer force of will, he could pull you back from the brink, undo what had just happened. But the truth was inescapable—you were gone.

The world outside continued to turn, indifferent to the agony that churned inside him. Sukuna, the man who had always been in control, who had never feared anything or anyone, was now paralyzed by a fear so intense it consumed him. He had never imagined a moment like this, a moment where he would lose something so irreplaceable.

Memories flashed through his mind—moments he had dismissed, overlooked, or taken for granted. The way you would smile at him when he came home, the quiet dinners you shared, the way you had always been there, even when he hadn’t deserved it. He had grown so used to your presence that he never considered what it would be like without you.

He had thought he could live his life as he pleased, that you would always be there, in the background, silently enduring whatever he put you through. But now, with you gone, the enormity of his loss hit him with full force. It wasn’t just that you were gone—it was that you were gone because of him. He had driven you to this, with his neglect, his infidelity, his arrogance.

His chest tightened, and for the first time in years, Sukuna felt the sting of tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried—if he ever had. But now, the tears came unbidden, a raw and overwhelming response to the pain that was tearing him apart. He had lost you, and it was his fault. There was no one else to blame, no way to undo what he had done.

He thought about all the things he would never get to say to you, all the apologies that would never leave his lips. He had always believed he had time—time to make things right, time to explain, time to finally show you that you mattered to him. But now, that time was gone, and with it, any chance of redemption.

Sukuna stayed there, holding your hand, until the nurses gently told him that he had to let go, that it was time to say goodbye. He didn’t want to—he wasn’t ready to. But he knew there was no choice. Slowly, reluctantly, he released your hand, feeling a cold emptiness settle into the space where you had once been.

As he walked out of the hospital, the reality of his life without you began to sink in. The thought of returning to his grand, empty house—one that had always been a symbol of his success, his power—now felt like walking into a tomb. You were no longer there to greet him, no longer there to fill the space with your presence.

And for the first time, Sukuna understood what it meant to be truly alone. All the wealth, the power, the women—none of it mattered anymore. The one thing that had truly mattered was gone, and he was left with nothing but the echo of his own regrets.

As he stepped into his car, the weight of your absence pressed down on him, suffocating in its intensity. He had never been afraid of anything before. But now, as he faced a future without you, he was terrified.

Sukuna sat in the driver’s seat of his car, the door still open as if he might somehow find the strength to run back into the hospital and reverse what had happened. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, and the first sob broke through his defenses, ragged and harsh. He slammed his fists against the wheel, the sound echoing in the empty garage, the pain in his chest mirroring the bruising force of his punches.

Each hit was a release, a desperate attempt to rid himself of the unbearable grief and regret that had settled over him like a heavy fog. Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision, and he felt a profound sense of helplessness that he had never known. He had always been in control, always been the one to dictate terms, to manipulate situations to his favor. But now, as he sat there, he was powerless, unable to change anything, unable to bring you back.

In the midst of his torment, memories began to flood back—painful, vivid recollections that he had buried under layers of indifference and self-absorption. He remembered the way you would spend hours in the kitchen, cooking meals with a dedication that went beyond mere obligation. You had always taken care of him, preparing dishes that you knew he loved, ensuring the fridge was stocked with his favorite foods.

He could picture you now, in the kitchen of your shared home, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, your face focused and serene. The way you’d hum softly to yourself, the warmth of the kitchen contrasting with the coldness that seemed to have crept into his heart over the years. Every meal you made was a labor of love, a testament to the care and consideration you had for him, even when he had taken it all for granted.

And then there were the times you’d prepare extra food, stock the fridge with ready-made meals, knowing that his schedule was unpredictable, that he might be too busy to eat properly. You’d filled the refrigerator with care, making sure he would have something to sustain him, even when you couldn’t be there. 

He should have noticed the subtle changes in your routine. The house had been unusually pristine lately, the surfaces spotless, the floors immaculate. It wasn’t like you to maintain such a high level of cleanliness without a reason. It was as if you had been preparing the space, ensuring that everything was in perfect order, as if you were orchestrating a smooth transition for him, even after you were gone.

The closets were tidier than usual, the clothes organized and neatly hung. He realized now that you had cleaned out your own belongings with quiet efficiency, not because you were preparing to leave in the conventional sense, but because you wanted to spare him the burden. You had sorted through your things, reducing the mess he would have to deal with, thinking ahead so that your death wouldn’t leave him grappling with the physical remnants of your life.

The laundry was always done, the baskets emptied and folded with a care that went beyond routine. You had taken care of it all, ensuring that he wouldn’t be confronted with chores and tasks that might remind him of the void you were leaving behind. The house had been more than just clean—it had been meticulously arranged to make his life easier, to ensure that the practicalities of your absence wouldn’t add to his grief.

In the midst of his grief, the realization struck him with the force of a revelation. You had been planning for this moment all along, your every action a carefully orchestrated preparation for the inevitable. You had thought of everything—how the house should be, how his daily life should continue without disruption, how he might cope with the void you would leave behind.

And yet, despite all your foresight, he had been so absorbed in his own world, so blind to your quiet efforts, that he hadn’t seen what you were doing. He had been wrapped up in his own needs, his own desires, oblivious to the depth of your sacrifice.

Now, as he sat there in the car, the weight of his regret felt almost unbearable. You had given him a gift of love so profound, so selfless, and he had only realized it in the harshest of moments. He had been given a chance to appreciate you, to see how deeply you cared, but it had come too late.

The house was prepared, the chores managed, the meals cooked—all to make sure that your departure wouldn’t add to his burden. And all he could do now was mourn the loss of someone who had loved him so completely, while he had remained unaware of the full extent of their care.

The realization hit him with a crushing weight. You had been preparing him—preparing him for a future without you. You had known, on some level, that your time was limited, and you had tried to make things easier for him, to ensure he wouldn’t be left entirely lost when you were gone. You had left behind a legacy of care and love, even in your absence.

The tears flowed more freely now, each one a testament to the depth of his regret. The sight of the empty kitchen at home, the pristine rows of shelves, the meticulously arranged pantry—all these things that once seemed so ordinary now felt like a poignant reminder of the love he had squandered. You had been his rock, his constant, and he had never truly valued it until it was too late.

Sukuna’s sobs grew louder, more desperate, his grief palpable in the confined space of the car. He felt as if he were drowning in a sea of his own making, surrounded by the memories of what he had lost and the realization of how profoundly he had failed you. The realization of your love, the sacrifices you had made, and the undeniable truth that he had only seen it all now, when it was too late, was a torment unlike anything he had ever known.

He sank forward, resting his head on the steering wheel, letting the tears fall harder than before, his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He wished he could turn back time, could undo the mistakes he had made, could tell you how much you meant to him. But all he was left with was the crushing weight of his actions, the echoes of your love, and the empty space where you once were.

[malavera]

Logan: "I'm right here, Bub." (18+) — Logan Howlett

summary: You had a fight with your father, he pissed you off so much you ran off to Logan's for comfort. But is that all you want?

warning: SMUT! MDNI. Legal age gap, Unprotected sex, logan has a big cock, reader wanted creampie, reader is called peach, daddykink, foul language, spanking, choking, basically SMUT.

an: concept is inspired after reading @plutodexay-nsfw's thoughts/ideas i hope i got the permission to write this one! This one's dedicated to you!

🏷️: @robynanthonystark @joelsgoldrush @bpmiranda @bobateababe @simonwifu @weallhaveadestiny @daddy-hugh-jackman @suchasweetieee @kholdkill @superhoeva @narjuko @wcndercore @bontensbabygirl @weallhaveadestiny @heart-0f-silk @peachyystuff @the-occasional-artist1125

this is part 4 from my series called Peaches, you can read it as a standalone! if you wish to read the previous ones, click here.

🍑 Check out my other works here

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🍑 do buy me a coffee if you like this one ;)

“Logan! … Logan! Where are you?!”

You storm into his house like a burglar ready to hit the jackpot, the wind rushing in with each determined step. You're on a mission to find the six-foot, muscular beast of a man—and complain about what a complete jerk your father is. How dare he come back from his long-awaited business trip with a woman on his arm, declaring she’s the one he’s going to marry—after all this time since your mother’s death. You put up a hell of a fight back there, screaming and crying, saying that you will not accept that woman as your step-mother as there will be no one that can replace or resume your mother's love.

Logan knew about this. Your father had a long conversation with him, asking whether it would be a good idea to introduce this woman to you. Logan didn’t want to come off as a know-it-all, even though he is, but he steered clear of family matters. Still, if your father had asked for his honest opinion, he’d have told him it wasn’t the best idea—you’re not emotionally ready for something like this.

And then you were off, rushing to Logan’s, even though your father yelled your name countless times. His new girlfriend held him back, urging him to let you be for a moment, to give you some space.

“I’m right here, bub.” Your head snapped toward the sound of his voice from the kitchen, where he stood, a mix of pity and disappointment etched on his face. His eyes reflected sadness, but there was also a glimmer of understanding; he knew how you felt, even if he believed you should show more respect to your father.

You exhaled sharply before rushing to him, enveloping him in a tight hug. His body radiated warmth, and with each passing moment, your anger melted into a puddle. Sobbing into his neck, Logan wrapped his arms around you tighter, his hand gently caressing your long, soft hair as he shushed you. “There, there, calm down, Peaches,” he cooed. He lifted you off your tiptoes, and your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. Holding you close, he made his way to the living room, settling down on the couch with you in his embrace.

“I hate him. I hate him so much,” you murmured into his neck, grumbling a bit as your anger began to bubble up inside you again.

“I know, Peach, I know. It’s okay—just calm yourself, okay?” Logan gently pulled you away to face him, wanting to see those beautiful eyes, even if they were now clouded with tears. Your eyes were bloodshot and red, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sniffled, struggling to hold back the snot threatening to escape.

You sighed, looking down, pouting. "I need you, please..." You whispered, your hands fisting his buttoned up shirt.

"What do ya need, Peaches?" His eyes searching for yours, looking for your honest answer.

"I need to fuck you, please. Please give me what I want." You pleaded, finally looking at him as your hips started to move on his lap a little.

Logan’s eyebrows knitted together, torn between giving you what you wanted and being the better man who took care of you. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sickness in his gut; even as you cried, he found you utterly adorable and breathtaking. He wanted those tears to be from pleasure, that only from him you would receive. He wanted those tears to be from the pain of taking his big cock, his hips piston while fucking you hard. Too bad, the day he saw those tears streaming down those kissable cheeks, was from every little girl's first love, their father.

“Please,” you pleaded once more, pressing your face closer to his, connecting your swollen lips to his soft ones. You began to peck and kiss him all over. The kiss was charged with your wants and needs, the urgency evident in its hurried pace. Short breaths mingled as your tongues swirled together.

Logan couldn't find the words; all he could do was surrender to your control. In that moment, he convinced himself it was okay—as long as it was what you wanted and it made you happy, he would give in. Because why? Because he was in love with you. He knew it was complicated, that he should be cautious given the age difference, but from the moment he laid eyes on you, he vowed that you were meant for him and him alone.

The fabric of his jeans felt rough against your exposed skin once you started grinding on him. The tent in his pants started growing each time you ground yourself more to him. Soft moans and pants coming out of your lips as you ground yourself more on his bulge. You placed both of your hands on his shoulders, supporting yourself to grind more on his lap. Logan leaned back and scootch his bum a little lower so you'd feel more comfortable moving on top of him. His arms that were wrapped around you now lay defenseless on his sides, as he now lets you do whatever you want on him.

"This what you want, Peaches? To use me?" Logan grunted, his eyes watching yours as you screwed them shut and whimpered.

"Please—Need... More," you whimpered. You moved a little to sit on his thighs as your hands found their way to the band of his jeans.

"Peach," Logan spoke, he wanted to stop you right there but he himself is not even sure if he should stop this moment right here and right now. You fumbled with his jeans attempting to undo it and once it's done, you pulled his jeans along with his boxers a little, enough to free'd what you're looking for.

Logan grunted once his cock released to open air, slapping against his clothed abdomen. You gasp, even though you've seen it, it never fail to always leave you breathless. His cock stand tall and proud, and you couldn't help but immediately scootch off his lap, until your knees hit the soft carpet, to grab him with both hands and put the tip inside your warm mouth.

Logan nervously moaned from the feeling of your warm tongue twirling around his tip that keeps throbbing from the way you suck on his cock. You purposely let some of your saliva spilling out of your mouth down to his balls, as you let one hand reached down to knead his balls in your hand.

"Argh, god." Logan grunted, screwing his eyes shut, tossing his head back. His hand found your head, as he fisted some of your hair. "Peach," he choked out a moan.

You whimpered before you started to bob your head up and down his cock, purposely making a mess with your saliva. The slurping and squelching sound from sucking his cock is the only thing that fills the quiet room, along with Logan's constant grunts and heavy breathing.

Giving him a couple of bobs before you release his cock from your hold, Logan grunted in surprise. You pushed yourself back up on your feet as you attempted to pull your panties off. Logan could literally smell your arousal leaking down your needy cunt. You pushed him to lean against the cushion as you mount on his lap before grabbing on his cock giving him a couple of pumps while you aim his cock at your entrance.

"Peach, peach—Wait... Baby, I gotta get us a condom." Logan hastily stop you right there but you whined and hold him by his chest.

"I need to feel all of you, Daddy, Please." Before Logan could say anything, he moaned once he felt you sinking down on his cock slowly while you looked down mouth agape slightly trying to hold down the pain from his monster cock tearing your walls.

Logan wished he'd claim your innocence in some other way, other than this. He wanted it to be special, to be memorable for you, but if this is what you want, and he'd hoped this would be memorable enough for you, then so be it.

He grunted through his gritted teeth, trying to hold himself from combusting in you right there and now. The way your tight walls choking his thick cock, it feels like as if he was getting choked by his neck. Your tight cunt felt so good around him, he wanted to take the matters into his own hands and fuck you hard right there.

"Baby, can you move, please?" Logan, is the one who pleaded.

You whimpered before nodding your head as you started to move yourself up and down his shaft. Once you get the hang of it, you place both of your hands back on his shoulders. Eyes bore into his as his into yours while your lips spill out the prettiest moan he's ever heard from you.

"God! Logan, you're so big." Logan lazily smirked.

"I know baby, I know you can take it. Come on, work that pussy on daddy's cock. Use, me baby." Logan whispered, his hand found its way to your nape, pushing your head closer to him to connect your forehead against his.

You started to screw your eyes shut, whimpering once you feel him move his hips along your rhythm. "So good, daddy." You sobbed.

"Yeah? Need to fuck that anger away on my cock, don't you, Peaches?" He reminded you why you needed his cock. To fuck your pain and anger away. The little girl that was once fragile on top of him all of a sudden snapped into someone even you don't recognize. Someone sinister that has been long living inside you.

You snapped your eyes open, eyebrows knitted together before pushing your head off disconnecting from his forehead. Logan keeps his face neutral, looking at you and groaned when he felt your hand wrapped around his throat. You started to move your hips rapidly, like riding a horse to make it gallop fast.

"Yeah, that's it, baby. Use my cock, come on, make yourself feel good. I know you're mad, baby. I know you do, come on, fuck my cock. Faster—Harder!" Logan gave your ass a couple of smack earning a loud moan from you, resulting in getting a rapid move from your hips.

"Yeah... There's a good girl," Logan whispered. "Come on, baby, I know you can do better than that," Logan coo'ed when he felt your hand attempted to squeeze his neck. He almost laughed at you on how pathetic you are, trying to control him.

So he reminded you, even though you're in control, who's the captain of this ship.

Logan's hand found your neck, as you choked out a moan. His squeeze was far from choking you but it felt like he was. He started to thrust his hips upwards, fucking your throbbing pussy; the squelching sound could be heard. His semi-saggy-and-heavy balls slapping against the bottom of your ass, sounding like a clap.

"Awh—Daddy!" You pathetically moaned for him. "Daddy—Yes! Right there, like that—Please! I wanna cum." You pleaded.

"Come on, Baby, cum f'r me."

"Ah—!" You shrieked with your eyes screwed shut as your whole body stuttered reaching your orgasm, coming down on his cock.

"There... We go." Logan helped you ride off your orgasm by still softly fucking your cunt. "Now come on, make daddy cum. Daddy wants to cum too." Logan whispered before he begin to fuck you back, fast.

"Ngh—Daddy! ... Does my cunt feel good around your cock?" You softly spoke, looking down at him flexing your doe eyes and your famous pout while Logan's bore into you, his mouth fell agape slightly as his main focus was to reach his high.

He panted, he groaned, while you're there on top of him doing nothing but letting him use your cunt. "Grrh—Fuck! 'M gonna cum." Logan grunted and now you started to fuck him back forcing his hips to stay down.

You rode him fast, faster than before to help him reach his high. "PEACH—GET OFF!" He boomed but you refused to listen to him, instead you crazily smiled at him and spill out tiny moans, looking at him.

"FUCK—I'M GONNA FUCKING CUM! GET OFF OF ME!" Logan roared.

"Cum in me, Daddy—Yeah!"

Logan couldn't hold himself any longer, his moral is not even working at the moment. All he thinks is only shooting his hot load out and he does, as he choked out a moan gripping your hips to stay in place while he shoot out his strings of cum inside you. His thighs stuttered a little while he still emptying his load; it was so much.

You giggled watching him trying to gain his breath while he looks at you dead in the eye.

"I better not see that attitude for the rest of the night." Logan warned while you just sit there, on top of him, looking at him without a care of his words.

"Thank you, Daddy."

[ahsxual]

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader where they are dating but the readers parents hate him so one night are 2:33 am Stu knocks on the readers window and she opens it it tells him to leave but before she can get a word out Stu is kissing her and telling her how much he misses her and one thing lead to, and so Stu had to push the readers head into her pillow so she didn’t wake anyone.

Sorry if the store request does not make any sense i’ve been wanting to request something from you for a while and this idea kinda came to my brain as I was falling asleep at four in the morning so I am very sleep deprived lol anyways I love your story. I hope you have a great day

Surprise Baby

Genre: Fluff & Smut

Warnings: +18 content, clingy and soft Stu, dirty talk, degrading, cursing, dom!Stu, p in v (w/o protection), sad Stu at the end (reader comforts him)

Word Count: 1,8k

A/N: This was actually a very interesting request and Ik very well that our daydreams before we sleep are the best 🤭 I added something to the plot at the end, so I hope you still like it! Tysm, I'm so glad you like my writing! It always feels so gratifying whenever you guys tell me that &lt;33

Right now you're lying on your bed crying, while hugging your favorite bunny plush that Stu gave you for Valentine's Day. You'd just had an argument with your parents, since they weren't the biggest fans and supporters of your relationship with your boyfriend Stu Macher. You didn't understand why they didn't like him and didn't even make an effort to, even though Stu always made you happy and made your life more colorful and enjoyable from the moment you met him. Of course Stu had his flaws like everyone else, since perfection is impossible to achieve and that was fine by you. But not for your parents. They said that Stu distracted you from school, that he "lived" for parties and didn't give you your "precious" time to concentrate on your studies, because he always took you on dates so that he could spend more time with you, even when you said you were busy.

You perfectly knew that Stu wasn't a guy who would take "no" for an answer. Maybe it was because he'd always been spoiled by his parents and didn't understand the meaning of that word? Maybe he hated the fact that you would say "no" to him, because if you truly love him as you always say, why would you reject an opportunity to go out with him? Both answers to those questions are probably correct, because you knew that Stu didn't know how to respect your personal space either, not that you minded anyway. But your parents did and that was the problem. They even told you once that Stu was obsessed with you and that your personal life has also become his, as if it were his property. Maybe they were right about that, but that's how Stu showed how much he loved and cared for you and it always worked well in your relationship. And you really missed him.

Sleep didn't want to make its presence known, so you decided to watch your favorite show on your new tv. However, you still couldn't stop thinking about the argument with your parents. Of course you defended your boyfriend and were always on his side to protect him against anyone, even your own parents, but it did made you very upset... all you wanted was for your family to see how genuinely happy Stu makes you feel, how he always admired you and treated you as if you were the only woman to walk on earth and how he's so funny that it's practically impossible not to laugh because of some silly joke he's made until your cheeks hurt. You just wished your family accepted him and loved him as much as you did...

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted when you heard your window being knocked on repeatedly. You screamed for a second, because you weren't expecting that to happen in the middle of the cold night. Nevertheless, you immediately felt relieved when you saw Stu standing there with his puppy eyes and big smile on his handsome face you loved so much. A wide smile appeared on your face the moment you realized your boyfriend wanted to surprise you and that he had actually made an effort to see you.

His giant body barely fit through your window and the way he clumsily tried to get into your room, like a cartoon thief, made you laugh until your belly started to get sore.

"Baby, what are you doing?? It's cold outside!" you asked worriedly, before you watched him fall face down on the floor as he let out an "ouch". You couldn't stop laughing at his poor attempt to sneak into your room, as he already knew that your parents would never let him in, especially so late at night. You looked over your bedside table, where your alarm clock was, to see what time it was, as it marked 2:33 am.

"Surprisee baby!" he shouted excitedly, with a contagious smile that didn't leave his face for a moment. His breathing was accelerated, which made you realize he had some trouble climbing up to your window. You felt your heart warming at his romantic gesture, yet you didn't want your parents to find out and kick him out of your house or worse.

"Be quiet babe, you're not supposed to be here! You need to leave Stu, my parents are gonna ki-" you were really worried about your boyfriend's safety, but Stu didn't give you a chance to finish your sentence, as he grabbed you firmly around your waist and began kissing you passionately with his long, skilled tongue. His hands were all over your body and his grip was tight, not allowing you to move away from him.

"Shh- don't worry about them. It's just us now. I've missed you so much, baby." he admitted, before kissing your neck eagerly. When he he'd had enough, he pulled you up by your hips and laid you down on your bed, his mouth never leaving yours. You couldn't help moaning as you felt his sweet, loving assaults on your body, his lips and big hands making you melt into his addictive touch.

"Love, we have to be quiet... and you're making it hard for me." by now you were feeling breathless, unable to contain your desire for your horny and needy boyfriend. Instinctively, you rubbed against Stu's crotch which made him groan in pleasure, as you could feel him already hard under his jeans. He began to gently pinch your nipples through the fabric of your short pajama top, enjoying and closely analyzing your reactions to his teasing touch.

"Looks like I have to shut you up so we don't get caught, baby..." the last thing you saw was a mischievous grin on your boyfriend's face, before he firmly turned you around so that you were on all fours for him. He pressed his erection against your ass, while his eyes rolled back as he put his head back from the stimulation and his mouth was slightly open. You were starting to enjoy this game way too much, to see who couldn't hold back their moans, and you made sure you would win this battle. You pushed your ass against him and started rolling your hips in a provocative way, knowing that Stu wouldn't be able to hold it much longer. He bit his lips at this and frowned, realizing what you were trying to do to him.

"My girl really wants to get some, huh? You wanna play dirty, doll? Do you really think you can win this game against me?" he laughed trying to mock you, making you feel pathetic if you really thought you could stay quiet with the way he was about to fuck you.

"Just fuck me already Stu, I can't hold it much longer..." you quickly gave up and decided to beg him for mercy, so you could feel him inside you for once. You were dripping by now and the thought of having to keep quiet so no one would catch you at such a vulnerable and intimate moment turned you on even more for some reason.

You finally felt him give you want you wanted, since Stu himself wasn't a very self-controlled guy when it came to you. You felt his tongue lick a long, firm strip from your throbbing clit to your pulsing, empty hole. This made you grip your pillow as hard as you could while he ate you out from behind. Unfortunately, it didn't last much longer like you'd hoped, as you didn't realize how horny and impatient Stu was feeling that night. Suddenly, you felt his fully erect cock enter you without any resistance, sliding easily into you because you were so wet with your cum and his saliva. He didn't give you any time to adjust to him as he usually did and started pounding you hard and fast. He knew you all too well, so he pushed your face against your pillow to prevent any sound coming out of your pretty mouth and kept his strong hand on your head. You prayed that no one would hear you both fucking like horny teenagers who can't control their sexual hormones. It wasn't your fault that you and Stu were so fucking attracted to each other and that your shared love was considered obsessive, right?

"You like that, don't you babygirl? You love it when I fuck you like this... You needy slut, can't get enough of your boyfriend's cock inside your tight hole. I bet your parents would be so embarrassed if they saw you getting fucked this good." he whispered in your ear before changing his angle to fuck you deeper. Wet sounds, your muffled moans and his heavy breathing were the only sounds being heard in your room, turning you both on even more. It didn't last much longer when you both came at the same time, since Stu was way too horny to hold his orgasm. He was so glad he'd made you cum before he climaxed inside you.

After the moment of ecstasy you both experienced, you lay there trying to catch your breath while staring at the ceiling. It was then that Stu pulled you closer to him and hid his face on your neck, clinging to you more than usual. He was acting way too needy and clingy, and wasn't trying to be the "dominant" one, which made you worry about him.

"Are you ok, love? Do you wanna talk about it?" you asked him softly as you caressed his hair and cheeks. You knew him too well to recognize whenever he wasn't feeling good, even when he was trying to hide it.

"My girl knows me so well." he chuckled weakly, trying to find the right words to tell you what was had been bothering him. After a moment of silence in which you tried to comfort him with your tender touches, he finally spoke. "My parents won't be able to make it for my birthday. Again." your heart ached for him, because you knew this problem had happened before. Although Stu's parents loved him and treated him right, they had never been very present throughout his life and that took a tool on his emotional behavior. That explained why he was so addicted to your attention and wanted you all to himself, all the time. It made you really sad that you couldn't help your boyfriend properly, because the presence of anyone's parents is irreplaceable.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, baby. I'm sure they're extremely busy with work and that's the only reason for their absence on such a special day. We both know that they love you and I'll be there for you to make sure you have the biggest party ever." you gently grabbed his face and smiled warmly at him, admiring his ocean eyes that reminded you of the maldivian water, as he stared back at you with pure love.

"I know you will. What would I do without you? You're the love of my life, you know that right?" you chuckled as you softly kissed his cute nose.

"I love you too, Stu... so much. You have no idea of how much love I have for you and no one ever will."

[ervotica]

the ones we love (will destroy us)

pairing; aegon ii targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

tags; twincest (lol i'm sorry yk what the targaryens are like), aegon is so sad and babygirl and an idiot, hurt/comfort

note; heavily reworked repost of an old fic that i adored writing but needed a lot of editing! (i still lowkey hate it tho)

“Why is Aegon staring at you?” Aemond asks, a cruel smirk cracking his perpetually stoic facade; the's mocking in the way his gaze falls between you and Aegon, not entirely genuine as he takes amusement in his older brother’s miserable pining. Aegon watches your discussion with Aemond, sour faced from across the dining table. You’ve taken it upon yourself to sit as far away from him as you can manage; and where you’re usually attached at the hip - though he knows you’re arguing - he can’t deny the ache in his chest from your lack of acknowledgement. You're cold, unflinching as you stare right through him as though he's irrelevant, as though he's worth nothing to you.

“Because he’s a twat,” you answer bluntly. Aemond barks out a short laugh, coarse and harsh, that penetrates the quiet chatter of the room. Heads start to turn towards your avid conversing with your younger brother.

“What are you two bickering about now?”

“If he thinks it’s funny to to speak ill of me to everyone in the seven fucking kingdoms, I don't want anything to do with him.” Your lips purse as you cross your arms; Alicent eyes you, watching the tick of your jaw and flare of your nostrils - you’re upset, even if you’re excellent at masking it. 

Aemond watches on amusedly as your twin grows increasingly agitated the more you pointedly avoid his glances. Your mother frowns.

“Y/n, don’t you feel you’re perhaps being a little hard on Aegon?” 

“No.”

“He's your twin brother!” she sighs, ever frustrated by your stubbornness and your twin’s lack of consideration for anybody’s feelings, even yours at times.

“He’s still a twat.”

Aegon huffs and rolls his eyes. 

You continue to only speak about him indirectly. When you turn to Jace, he grins.

“Jace,” you start, clasping your hands where they lay on the dining table in front of you, “If someone said that you were ‘an ugly whore with no friends’ - as he so eloquently put it - would you be upset?”

“He said that?” Jace's jaw falls slack. “Wait, no. He honestly said that about you?”

The table clatters, cutlery bouncing, and Aegon stands abruptly, face screwed up in that way it does when he’s about to cry.

“It wasn’t like that!”

“How else could you possibly have meant it?” You’re incredulous, covering your misery with spiteful words. You want to make him hurt, make him feel your pain, but run to him for comfort all at once.

“Not-”

“Gods, just be quiet,” you mutter. Your face is hot as you turn away and you feel your eyes prickling with the threat of an onslaught of tears. Aegon cringes, drawn tight and tense as though you share one body, as though he can feel the pain he’s putting you through. Your upset has always caused him real physical distress, from when you were tiny children and still to this day. Your voice lowers to a whisper. “You’re so mean.”

“Y/n-“

You’ve never seen him quite this distressed; his cheeks flush pink and ruddy and his eyes start to water and gloss over, not dissimilar to your own expression - though you’re much better at concealing your emotions. His nostrils flare the way they only do when he cries: the way they did when he sobbed in your arms for hours after your mother rejected his pleas for affection once again, the way he cried when you were ten years old and your father interrupted him every time he tried to speak. Your bottom lip trembles. 

“Please,” he croaks. Your brows knit and crease your forehead as your chest tightens; you bite the inside of your cheek with such force that you draw blood. 

You stand and the solid wooden dining chair thumps against the floor. Aegon mirrors your movements, rushing towards the exit in your wake.

Once you’ve left the presence of your family, the tears come hard and fast and unrelenting. They’re hot against your cheeks, damp as your hands shake to scrub them away, leaving only a tender sting and blooming heat in your touch’s wake.

“Please talk to me.” The door creaks shut and then Aegon’s voice cuts through the sounds of your sniffles; you spin on your heel and he surges towards you in a bout of energy, clasping one of your hands in both of his larger ones. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that about you, it was mean. And you should be angry with me. I miss you and I love you and I'll never, ever speak a cruel word against you again.”

“Did you mean it?” you ask; he lurches to latch himself to your body, anxious as though you’ll push him away at any given moment. His arms are tight and unmoving around your waist.

“No.” He shakes his head vehemently, “I don't know why I said it. I just wanted the others to respect me but shouldn’t have said such awful things. The only person I need is you.”

“What?”

“I don’t care about any of that now. None of it matters to me if you’re not by my side.” 

His body shudders when your arms close and tighten around his body and a sob looses from his throat. Your voice is thick as you murmur in his ear. 

“You hurt my feelings.” 

His head falls to the dip of your shoulder and he clings to you with a strength that you’re not unfamiliar with; it cracks your heart all the same.

“Please forgive me, sweetling. Please.” The velvet of your dress darkens in splotches where his tears fall. “I love you.”

You know he really is remorseful; the guilt eats at him until he can’t feel anything else, not until you’ve reconciled. He's always been the same, ever since you were six and he hit you in the face; you didn’t speak to him for four days and he cried with such vigour that he made himself sick.

“I love you,” you can’t help but whisper back. “But if you ever do something like that again, I won’t be so forgiving.”

He laughs wetly, an odd sound that gets caught in his chest as he presses further into your embrace. 

“Can I have a kiss?”

You hook a finger under his chin and tilt his damp face towards your own. His lips fill with air and push out into a pout. 

His muscles go soft and relax the second your lips mesh with his; your fingers tangle in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He angles his head and deepens the kiss, licks into your mouth and murmurs something imperceptible. When you pull yourself away, he chases you, desperate to be close. 

“Love you,” he mumbles, plying you with damp, open mouthed kisses across your cheeks and neck. They leave glistening half moons in his wake. “I‘m so sorry.”

“I know,” you say, tucking your head in the hollow of his throat. “I forgive you, alright?”

A laboured breath forces its way out of his lungs when your arm wraps around his neck for a hug.

“I didn't like you sitting next to Aemond,” he sighs. You shush him, rubbing thumbs over his eyebrows and down his cheeks in unbridled affection. “I want you to sit next to me.”

“I always sit next to you,” you murmur. “I was upset, remember?”

“I know,” he whines. “but you’re mine.”

“Don’t be a baby,” you giggle. “I spend all of my time with you.”

He squeezes you tight then and buries his face in your hair. You grunt with the force of his weight.

“I missed you.”

[amazinglyashy]

Hi hello!!! I saw tons of your work and I'm very impressed with your skill! If I may, may I request the LaDS Men with Reader who sometimes stare at kids who are having fun with their parents or spending time with each other because Reader doesn't have a good relationship with her family and felt envy to those kids who got to spend time with their parents.

I wanted to know how would they react and do! If my words are confusing, feel free to DM me! Thank you for your time!!

Everyone keeps yelling at me in the tags about me personally attacking them with some of my posts, yet YALL ARE ATTACKING ME WITH PROMPTS AS WELL, POT MEET KETTLE! Thank you so much for this prompt <3 I felt this one personally :'D So I had fun writing it!

LaDS men when you get emotional in public seeing parents and their kids in public

Zayne -

It's… difficult for Zayne to watch.

He knew you when you were both younger, but old enough to know that what was happening to you was… not good. But still too young to do anything about it himself.

It hurts to see you look at families and know exactly what's going through your mind in that moment, but he does his best to quell his own emotions and keep them in check. You don't need to be worried or feeling any kind of guilt for making him feel hurt on your behalf. He wants you to express things in a way that'll help you, without being conscious about how he might be feeling.

Zayne stays quiet though. Sometimes it's good to get you away from the bad thoughts wracking through your mind, he knows that. But other times? You have to process it. You have to get through the painful and the ugly in order to start healing, and you have to do the fighting on your own. Inside your head, where he can't help you.

But out here?

He'll do anything for you.

Anything you ask, anywhere you want to go after you snap out of your envy and thoughts, you can consider it done.

He might not be able to help you- might not be able to stop those feelings of envy and sadness from even entering your mind before they make a home there, even if for a little while-

But he'll help you in any other way he can.

Sylus -

"The people closest to you might be the ones who want to kill you the most."

Sylus keeps so many tabs on you, even prior to your eventful meeting, that he knows good and well what the relationship with your family looks like. And there's more than one reason to why he said this to you, gun in your hand and legs straddling his lap. He may not believe they want to kill you, or may be he does depending on the circumstances, but what he does know is that you're safe with him regardless.

That doesn't solve the whole 'emotions' aspect of it, however.

He'll place a hand on the small of your back, ushering you forward. It's not that he doesn't want you to watch the family, it's just he can see the clouds forming in your eyes, and he'd rather you get emotional somewhere more private, for your own sake. He didn't need you feeling humiliated for getting misty-eyed in public on top of the already complex emotions you were already feeling.

Even if you're not close to tears, it's still better to him to get you away. He wants you to feel safe enough to do so, if your feelings bubbled up unexpectedly and you suddenly needed to cry, he wanted you to be somewhere you could.

And he knows you know you're already with someone you could cry around, as well.

Sometimes, he'll ask about it, just to allow you the space to vent. Oftentimes, he just keeps quiet, letting you process the thoughts going through your mind.

He's right there though, no matter what you may need.

Xavier -

"That looks good, would you like one too?" He'll ask, referencing the ice cream cone the kid is holding, knowing fully well why you're staring.

He has his own generous share of family and parental issues, so he knows how you feel. And after hearing some of your childhood memories, whether they were about your feelings or if he just gathered that information from in between the lines- he can relate to you well.

But... he'd rather not let you dwell too long, if he can help it.

The way he sees it, is you already spent a long time in pain. Years upon years of it, wondering if you would ever get the approval- love, care- from your family that was never going to come. Your own forever waiting and hoping and trying to make a relationship work that was always destined to fail, because the deciding factor on it's success or failure was not on you. It was never on you.

And he doesn't want you to waste more time feeling sorrow over something you've already dug a knife into your gut over, so many times already.

But if you need to- feel what you're feeling, be a little wistful, or even cry- he's here for you. He's here for you no matter what you need.

A shoulder to cry on, a big hug, a favorite movie on the couch later that still reminds you of a time where you chased after affections that were sadly never meant for you- but the happy parts that made you laugh alone in a room raised on a television-

He's got you.

Rafayel -

Rafayel's heard the stories.

Whether it's about your babied little sibling getting a bike after asking once when you spent years begging and saving to buy your own, being treated to the bare minimum of care by your parents, or something more insidious-

Rafayel has heard all of the stories from you by now.

So when he sees you looking abnormally long at a family, when nothing particularly funny is happening- the kid isn't saying something insane, the parents aren't trolling the kid, etc- and he sees your far-away expression, it's like he's pulled up a chair in the recesses of your mind to join you in your melancholy.

It's better than you suffering alone.

"Hey cutie. How's it going?"

He'll ask you after a while, having been with you the whole time, so he knows exactly how it's going. But his words are less out of concern for you and more to snap you out of the daze you're in. He doesn't mind if you feel sad, he's here for you no matter what, but he just doesn't want you to start and spiral.

He knows there's not really anything he can do. It's just a part of you now, the pain of the relationship you'll never get to have, that's nearly there but just an inch away from your fingertips every time you reach for it, no matter how much you try and strain yourself to grasp it. And he knows he can't exactly fill that hole.

But damn if he's not going to be with you throughout every bad thought, bad day, bad experience.

You're stuck with him, and he'll love you through it all.

[pomefioredove]

Hi uh—I would like to request platonic hcs for Diasomnia and any of your favorites with a very young Yuu? Like, not a child, but not college age either (so like 13-15 maybe). The reader is very quiet and gets overstimulated easily, but they can be very sweet—they just show their affection through actions rather than words (like giving someone a pretty rock because it reminded them of that person, without really thinking about it). Recently, my older brother passed away, and your writing has helped me lots! I hope this request wasn’t too much—apologies if it was!

thank you so much for doing what you do, it genuinely makes me happier :)

hi anon, I'm very sorry to hear about your loss, take care <3 I hope this helps

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ brotherly

summary: young yuu type of post: headcanons characters: diasomnia (malleus, sebek, silver, lilia) additional info: platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

Malleus just absolutely treasures you

(dragon pun intended)

it's not strange for him to feel protective of his loved ones, but even so...

call it what you will, paternal, brotherly, either way he sees you as family

and he doesn't take such labels lightly!

he definitely has a little space in his room where he keeps everything you give him

and he's quite reciprocal, too

be it the finest jewels from Briar Valley or a glass bead he found on a walk

he quite likes spending time with you, too

let him into Ramshackle and he'll never leave

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Sebek is, as always, a little distant at first

...he can be a little hard to get close to, that's all

but once he's deemed you worthy of his friendship, you will never get rid of him

he's loyal to the core

the kind of guy to start crying because he loves his friends so much

so, you're definitely safe with him

he teaches himself how to recognize sensory overload so he can get you out of uncomfortable situations faster

he keeps the things you give him on his person as good luck charms!

actually a sweetie, 10/10 no notes

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

though, out of the four, I see you and Silver being the closest

he can be a little... awkward at times

but he's got a soft spot for the meek and quiet

and he knows how overwhelming a place like this can be, especially for you

he knows what it's like to feel out of place

his friendship is full of comfortable silences and moments of peace

any time you feel overstimulated, or sad, or even just feel icky, he's got somewhere quiet you can hide away in

he's a sweetheart <3

he's just as protective as Malleus is, in a way

though he's more likely to teach you how to wield a sword and defend yourself

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the creaky old man himself!

much like Malleus, Lilia keeps everything you give him

unlike Malleus, it's... everywhere

all over his room, hidden in his pockets, he swears Grim ate one of the pretty rocks you gave him...

he cherishes the little gifts no less, though

and he'll often pass down some of his own old knick-knacks to you

(half of them have some kind of curse he forgot about. Silver deals with it)

he's basically adopted you at this point

Lilia has a soft spot for children, after all

and he's been getting oh-so nostalgic over Silver's youth, lately...

he probably makes everyone take terrible embarrassing photos together now that the family is complete