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astraystayyh · 6 months

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The snow falls, we fall apart.

summary: when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

genre: producer student!hyunjin x reader. roommates!au. friends to lovers. acute descriptions of heartbreak and general sadness. slow burn. hurt/comfort. healing and hopeless romantic hyune. very inspired by long for you so lots of pining and yearning. (wc: 13k)

warnings: mentions of alcohol. it is implied that reader was in an a very toxic relationship but no details are shared.

a.n: happy birthday to my hyunjin, my muse, my light. thank you for being so full of love that it made me love love again in return. this is i think my most personal piece, and i hope it reminds those who need it that love should be soft and kind, that it shouldn’t hurt, that it should heal not break. i love you guys and i love you my xi, writing this collab with you has been a true honor <3 also!! please listen to long for you while reading :,)

winter falls masterlist.

You’ve only ever felt utter despair twice in your life.

First, when you were seven years old, playing hide and seek with your cousins at your grandma’s house. It was a warm summer afternoon, the air sweetened by pastries you devoured hours ago. You decided to hide in a wooden cabinet up in the attic, only to end up stuck there. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, the oxygen seeping away from the cracks underneath the door, leaving you deprived of air, of life.

Second, at twelve, when you've come to discover sorrow's new facet, clad in grief's heavy cloak. Your parents adopted a hamster for your birthday, but they did not know he had a terminal disease. You were distraught, to say the least, when you awoke to its still form, death claiming a frail heart unaware of its imminent fate.

And now, third, many many moons later, you are knocking on Hyunjin’s door a few minutes after midnight. It is cold out, tears tracing rivulets on your cheeks, your fingers tinted pink from roaming outside in the harsh winds, your heart much heavier than when you were a child. More grief-stricken, at your own hands, this time.

A disheveled Hyunjin opens the door, his blonde ash hair tousled and sticking upwards, a clear indication of the many times he had run his hands through it in fits of frustration. His gray hoodie zipped up hastily, revealing the silver cross necklace he was wearing, nestling perfectly against his honeyed skin.

You've always had an aversion to seeking comfort, saw it as revealing your deepest vulnerabilities to a world that isn't always kind. It was easier, much simpler to do so when you were a clueless child— when you sank in your cousin Lia's hold as she attempted to steady your breathing, when your mother cradled you in her lap after Pinky died.

It is much harder now, much more embarrassing because Hyunjin has never seen you this sad, never glimpsed your shadows that now swarm his doorstep, unannounced.

“What's wrong?” he quickly asks, eyes darting over your figure in a rapid search for visible wounds. He wouldn’t find any. All your injuries stem from within— blood doesn’t have to be spilled for your heart to weep.

You had rehearsed a lie as you walked up to his doorstep. You would say that your car broke down near his place and ask if you could stay over for the night. He would insist he could drive you to your place and you’d refuse, saying that it was too late and you did not wish to bother him. You’d sleep on the couch and slip away in the early hours of the morning.

Yet, it is the genuine worry etched in his eyes that dismantles the fortress you've hidden in, melts the lie in your throat, morphing it into a steel lump coiling in your throat. He looks concerned when all you’ve had directed towards you recently was anger. And you missed someone looking at you in care, not reproach.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You admit, your voice shattered, fragments of your vocal cords scattered out in the wind like a broken mosaic, the sound of it scraping against your ears.

Blow one hurt. It felt like your body turned against you as it deprived you of oxygen. The sobs that escaped you once you perceived the light pained you, perhaps more than being confined in the darkness.

Blow two was even worse, it was your first time experiencing grief. It was too hard of a concept for your innocent heart to grasp, too complicated for you to find solace in anything as adults do.

You promised yourself that you’d reserve blow three for monumental agonies— big pains and big sorrows only. That’s how you managed to keep all your tears at bay for most of your life. Would they be worth losing your third sob for? No, you've always found the answer to be.

And in all the twisted scenarios you’ve conjured up in your mind, deaths and illnesses and the haunting tale of failure, you did not imagine that it would happen on Hwang Hyunjin’s doorstep. That you’d burst into sobs at the compassionate look in his gaze, and the sad smile he sent your way. As if he knew, as everyone did around you. That you had handed a knife to a serial killer and it was only a matter of time before he stabbed you in the heart.

Two weeks ago.

“I’m trying to understand you but you aren’t helping me,” Seungmin is frustrated as he paces relentlessly before you from left to right like a swinging pendulum. You sit on the couch, beholding only his shoes, avoiding his gaze that would reflect the truth you dare not confront.

“He’s sucking the life out of you, can’t you see that?”

You can, out of everyone that surrounds you, you can see it the most. You feel as if you are carrying a skin that isn’t your own, weighed down by a relationship that has taken everything from you. But admitting it is admitting that you were wrong, in trusting him, in loving him. You couldn’t bear it.

“We are fine!” you shout back, the defiance in your voice surprises even you. This is a familiar script with Seungmin, a recurring conversation spurred by your puffy eyes and diminishing appetite. He tells you, begs you to leave, but where could you go? How could you leave a home where you've shed all your treasured belongings at the door— your skin, your bones, your very self.

What place would welcome you now that you're stripped bare of your soul?

“When was the last time he made you smile, huh? All he does is hurt you, and you...” he chuckles incredulously, running his hand through his hair. “You are letting him.”

Deny, deny, deny.

“This isn’t true. He loves me,” the words taste foreign in your mouth like rusty metal dragging across your lips. A small voice whispers that love shouldn't feel like this, but you quiet it down.

“Are you hearing yourself? Yn, I…” he kneels before you, his hands resting comfortingly on your knees. This is Seungmin, your best friend of five years. You know he has your best interests at heart, you are even more sure of it when his voice softens, shakes slightly when he utters your name. “Yn, please. I’m trying to help you. Please.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you push away his hands, standing up. “I don’t want your help, and I don’t need it.”

You quickly leave Seungmin’s dorm, your heart heavier than when you entered it, foolishly hoping that he'd ignore your distressed state after yet another fight with your boyfriend. But Seungmin doesn't understand, no one around you does— you’ve gambled your heart, and you cannot stop drawing the cards, even in the face of losing strikes.

❁ ❁ ❁

Hyunjin offers you a cup of tea with a gentle smile and you grab the steaming drink from his hands. The smell of chamomile wraps around your senses, and your brain fizzles out for a second before the soothing aroma. But it is a fleeting respite, the tempest of your thoughts crashes back onto you with an unsettling force, causing you to almost drop the drink as your hands shake. You place it down the table without taking a sip.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced,” you apologize, wincing at the intrusion, “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“I always sleep late. Don’t worry about it,” he smiles, but you know it isn’t a genuine grin, because his eyes betray an unsubdued concern, refusing to morph into their usual moon crescents.

You’ve always thought that Hyunjin wears his emotions openly— when he laughed, he did so loudly, his boisterous giggles traveling around Seungmin’s dorm. When he hurt himself, everyone in the vicinity would know so from his loud yelps. And when something worried him, he would bite his lip, toying with the plush flesh to ease his nerves.

As he is doing now. Looking at you.

“We broke up,” you quickly say, and your words hang over you like a gloomy cloud. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Do you want me to fight him? I’ll bring changbin too,” he suggests a serious tone underlying his playful offer, and it manages to tear a reluctant giggle out of you.

“Changbin doesn’t know me well enough to fight for me,” you counteract and he shakes his head. “He’ll fight for me, I'm his princess.”

“Are you now?” The giggle escapes your mouth less forcefully, and the smile that graces Hyunjin’s face is a genuine one.

“I am. My proposal stands,” he extends his hand and you wrap your fingers around his palm. “Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind,” you smile but he frowns, flipping your hand around in his hold.

“You are freezing,” he whispers, using his other palm to rub warmth into yours.

“It’s fine,” you lie, slipping your hand out of his grasp, not feeling deserving of his kindness.

Wordlessly, Hyunjin stands, walking into what you assume is his bedroom. You only know of his place because you dropped off Seungmin here some time ago. You are too exhausted to even drink in the interior.

“Here,” he returns, handing you a navy hoodie of his and black joggers. “This will keep you warm at night.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, hesitating for a few seconds before speaking again. “Can you please not tell Seungmin, I... I can't face him right now.”

“Of course. I’ll be awake still if you do need something.”

Hyunjin’s clothing is warm, although peeling away your own garments felt like shedding layers of your skin, as if the fabric melted into your very flesh, just like memories from the day did. You have never felt this worthless before, discarded like a forgotten leaf on the roadside, one he stepped on for his own enjoyment, leaving you crushed in his wake, unable to fly away again.

Hyunjin’s rose perfume wraps around you, and you find relief in sleeping somewhere where your, his, scent was no longer around. You foolishly hope that if you close your eyes hard enough, you’ll manage to convince yourself that you’re someone else, tonight. Someone who isn’t tethered to the heartache, someone who can slip away from the clutches of a love that hurts more than hate could ever manage to do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Heartbreak isn’t beautiful, no matter how eloquently you try to dress it in the syllables of poetry, no words can soften the burn in your lungs, the searing ache that courses through your very core, reminding you that deep within, down to the fundamentals of your being and the most basic alchemy that ties your atoms together— you are unlovable. Whether you cut your hair or allow it to grow, change your heart, or leave it as it has always been, you will remain so.

You don’t remember much of the past week, blurry fragments here and there that float in your mind like a distorted water reflection. There is little room for memories when you are busy trying to remember how to breathe— one inhale in, one exhale out. The simple concept seems harder when there are unkind hands permanently lodged into your heart, squeezing it tight.

What you do remember is telling Seungmin through text the next day, because you couldn’t bear the way his eyes would soften if you spoke to him in person. No signs of surprise cast on his figure, because he knew that it was long coming, a train with one final inevitable destination— you in shambles, him okay.

You remember Seungmin cradling you in his arms when he came to see you, and you trying desperately to keep the tears at bay— too focused on pinching your arm to let Seungmin’s warmth radiate through your being, Hyunjin lingering uncomfortably by the entrance of his living room.

You remember begging Seungmin to grab your belongings from the apartment you shared with your ex because you were unable to face him, him, and everything that your old place spelled out for you. Stand in the ruins of what you once thought would be your permanent home.

And now, you watch as Seungmin and Hyunjin bring suitcases full of your stuff into the latter’s place. And you feel like an outsider in your own body, standing at the corner of the room gazing at utter destruction, unable to stop it, unable to mend it. Seungmin quickly reassures you that you could crash in his and Minho’s place until you find a new one to live in, already taking out his laptop to search for new apartments for you.

But you did not care for it, your eyes zeroed in on the satin shirt peeking out of your suitcase. The one he bought you on your first month anniversary. Back when love felt like a gentle feather running down your spine, and not a dull knife slicing away at your skin.

“This place's expensive too,” Seungmin sighs, rubbing his temple warily. Your logical best friend could not fix your heartbreak but he took it to heart to alleviate your other troubles. You would thank him for it, later, when your tongue finds enough will to move.

“What if you move in with me?” Hyunjin suddenly says and his words filtrate through the fog in your mind easily, as if he rehearsed them enough times so they’d roll out smoothly out of his mouth. “I mean, Felix is away for the next year since he went back to Australia. And I was looking for a new roommate anyway.” He shrugs and Seungmin turns to look at you, his eyes convey the question his mouth doesn’t articulate— is it okay with you?

“I don’t…” your voice is croaked, so you clear your throat. “I don’t want you to do things out of pity.”

“I’m not. If I was, I would've told you to move in with me for free. I still need you to pay rent,” he raises his eyebrows, a playful tease and you smile in relief, nodding, “Okay, I will. thank you.”

Heartbreak is ugly and all-encompassing, weaving through the roots of your heart and infecting each organ with its insidious touch. It renders you immobile, incapable of performing the simplest tasks, burdened by a weight unseen by the world. But you try your best, your very best to contain it.

You smile at the cashier as she hands back your money only to wonder if her soft, well-manicured hands would too crush a soul without remorse. You go to all your classes without fail but your mind is elsewhere, contemplating why the sun filtering through the windows no longer warms your skin. Can nerve endings perish when subjected to too much pain? What's left of life when you can no longer feel the caress of the sun?

You watch a movie at Seungmin's dorm but your mind is elsewhere, fleeting to this morning and how you refused to stay in the shower for more than three minutes because your thoughts might become haunting ghosts tempting you to follow them. You brush your hair and spray your perfume, only because you have to, because you live with Hyunjin and you wouldn’t want your sadness to taint him too. You wonder how long you’ll have to bear it. You wonder if it’ll ever leave you or if the veins in your heart have molded themselves after the pain and they wouldn’t know how to accept happiness anymore.

You greet Hyunjin as he walks past you, shaking your head when he asks you if you want to eat dinner with him, quickly retracting back into your room. You have ten unread messages and a pile of growing laundry you need to do, but all you can muster is to gaze at the empty walls, mirroring the void within you. Your mom told you to call her again and you don’t know how you’ll speak to her without bursting into a sob, how you’ll tell her that all it took was one person to break you. Or maybe it was two people, your hands and his tearing apart your flesh and bones. Maybe that’s the worst part about it. So you don’t call her.

And you only ever emerge from your room when you need to, just like now because your water bottle is finished and you need to refill it. You go to open the kitchen door when you hear Hyunjin’s muted shatter, Felix’s distinctive deep voice coming out of the phone speaker.

“Next you add the melted butter and stir it,” Felix instructs, the sounds of pots and utensils clinking in the background. You fidget slightly, mustering the strength to paint a fake smile on your lips.

“What next?”

“Sift the dry ingredients then add them to your wet mixture,” Felix explains, met with a few seconds of silence. You can almost visualize Hyunjin's perplexed expression, blinking rapidly in confusion.

“Explain it to me like I’m five years old,” he requests, prompting a small smile to etch itself onto your face.

“How are you surviving without me?”

“I’m not please come home,” Hyunjin sounds horrified as Felix’s rich chuckles fill the air. “Why do you suddenly want to make brownies anyway?” he then asks.

You go to open the door when Hyunjin’s response catches you off guard.

“They’re for Yn.”

Hyunjin's words resonate in the air, causing a hitch in your throat and Felix’s teasing whistles simultaneously, but Hyunjin is quick to stop him. “No, no, no, it’s not like that. They’re just a bit down and I remember them loving your brownies. So…”

It takes you a fleeting moment to dig the memory out of your mind, a year ago, right before your ex came to pick you up from Seungmin’s dorm. You had a bite of Felix’s brownies, a surprised gasp escaping your lips at its delicious taste, back when food had taste and happiness came easily to you. It was an insignificant memory, you did not imagine Hyunjin, out of everyone, would remember it.

But he did, and he’s now pacing before your closed door, contemplating how he’ll convince you to finally eat something with him. He throws a thumbs-up in the air for no one but himself, inhaling deeply before knocking on your door.

“Hey,” he greets with a hopeful smile, his gaze meeting your tired form. He hesitates for a second, clearing his throat. “Brownies?” You remain unmoving and he falters, “Hm? Please?”

“Sure,” you nod and a wave of relief floods through Hyunjin as you step out of your room. His joy is short-lived when he takes the brownies out of the oven, only to find them thoroughly burnt.

His mouth hangs agape, and he walks back shamefully to the oven, lowering its door only to scream inside of it.

“This will be more therapeutic,” you say, pointing nonchalantly to the fridge and he agrees, opening its doors and yelling once again in the much larger space.

Your melodic laughter fills the kitchen, Hyunjin’s embarrassment is suddenly a forgotten memory.

“I’m craving kimbap. Should we get it instead?” you propose, a touch shyly and he quickly agrees, afraid you’d change your mind and walk back to your room where he can no longer ensure you are okay.

Hyunjin absentmindedly dances along to the music blasting through the convenience store when a girl sidles up to his side, a saccharine grin on her lips as she looks up at him, “hi,” she greets and his tentative smile mirrors hers. “Hey.”

“Are you single?” she asks, her gaze briefly fleeting to the window. “I think you are really cute.”

“I’m…” he glances at you but you're suddenly engrossed in the ingredients of the tuna kimbap you are holding, pretending not to listen. “I am but I’m not interested, thank you.”

“Oh, come on,” she places a hand on his arm and he physically recoils. “Give me your insta and we could talk.”

“No,” he repeats, grabbing her hand to remove it when a loud voice startles him. “Baby, what’s taking you so— What are you doing?” Hyunjin watches in horror as the girl’s eyes grow wide, before she scrambles to the man’s side, feigning fear.

“He kept hitting on me when I said I had a boyfriend, baby.”

“What?” both you and Hyunjin gasped in comical unison. He would find it amusing if not for the escalating anger radiating from the man, who looks like he spends all his days in the gym. Hyunjin suddenly regrets not working out with Changbin.

The man strides towards Hyunjin. “Do you want to die?”

“No? there’s a misunderstanding,” he replies, swiftly standing before you and shielding you with his arm. “Your… baby,” he wiggles his finger in front of the man's face, “she was the one hitting on me!”

The man scoffs loudly, his face growing redder from the anger seething in him. “So you hit on my girlfriend and then accuse her of cheating?” His fist rises threateningly, prompting Hyunjin to step back, accidentally bumping into your chest.

“Wait, wait, wait! Let’s go talk outside, man to man,” Hyunjin pauses, his voice taking on a taunting edge, “unless you're too scared?” he smirks as he feels you pull at his shirt, whispering an incredulous- “What are you doing?” He shakes his head, grabbing your hand and leading you outside, throwing a sly wink at the man behind you now.

“Are you seriously going to fight him?” you ask, your gaze shifting towards the deranged couple who are about to step out of the grocery store. “No, of course not. I'm a lover, not a fighter.”

“You said you'd fight my ex,” you point out and his eyes soften surprisingly.

“You are an exception.” He looks back at the man, who's now walking towards you both. “But anyways, do you know how to run?” he asks and you frown, “who doesn’t know how to—” you pause as realization dawns on you. “No," you whisper furiously.

“Yes.”

“No,” you shake your head, horrified and he nods, eyes apologetic.

“Yes.” His fingers entwine with yours, he squeezes your hand once before he takes off running.

“Hwang fucking Hyunjin!” you shout and he looks back at you, a mischievous smile on his face. “I’m sorry Yn my face is too pretty to be beaten up.”

“He’s following us!” you yell, looking back horrified as the, even angrier, man runs after you.

“Well, run faster!”

“I’m wearing fucking slippers!” you curse and he giggles, tipping his head back, the wind slamming into you both, his hand never letting go of your own.

“Oh my god why is he still running!” you groan and Hyunjin picks up speed, moving you even closer to his sprinting figure

“I know, is it ever that serious?” he yells above his shoulder and you dig your nails into his palm.

“Shut up, this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so gorgeous.”

“So, you think I’m pretty too?” Hyunjin grins proudly and an incredulous laugh escapes your lips.

“Really? Is this what you’re getting out of this situation?”

“Silver linings, Yn, silver linings,” he shouts as you round a small alley, finally stopping to catch your breath. You both fall to the ground, heavy breaths escaping your chests.

“Holy shit, I’m not athletic at all,” he heaves, his eyes meeting yours. He expects to find anger lingering in your gaze but all he can grasp is your amused smile before you collapse into a fit of laughter, clapping loudly and clutching your stomach with your hand.

“Oh my god, I’m crying,” you laugh harder, wiping away at the tears falling from your eyes. Hyunjin’s weariness disappears in the blink of an eye— he did not realize how much he missed your smile until he glimpsed it again. And it is beautiful. Happiness looks beautiful on you.

“Idiot,” you hit his shoulder playfully, and his response is delayed for a few seconds, the warmth from your smile rendering him immobile.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, pulling you up. “Here, I’ll carry you home,” he squats slightly before you. “How impolite of me. How dare I make your majesty run.”

You shake your head, amused, before climbing atop his back, his warm palms holding your thighs securely. “Only because the slippers hurt my feet.”

You walk in silence for a while, your arms wound up around Hyunjin’s neck, the ghost of a smile still lingering on both your faces.

“They said it will snow tomorrow,” Hyunjin speaks suddenly and you stay silent for so long he starts to wonder if you even heard him.

“Mm? That’s nice,” your tone is melancholic, and he pauses at the peculiar sadness in it— as though you were trying to act nonchalant about something that has once meant the world to you.

“Don’t you like the snow?” he asks and your hold on his neck falters.

“I loved it. Loved ice skating and building snowmen.” Your voice is light and airy, like Hyunjin’s favorite mint chocolate ice cream. “But now it reminds me of bad times, bad memories.”

“I understand.”

Hyunjin knows what it feels like to relinquish parts of yourself you never wished to part from. For someone to grab your happiest places and to cast a gloomy filter atop them. Sometimes it is the loss of a season that hurts more than the departure of a person.

And Hyunjin loves winter.

He’ll do everything so that you’ll come to love it again too.

❁ ❁ ❁

Is it a nightmare if the person in it is one you once loved, looked forward to beholding with your gaze, hoping they’d never slip out of your reach? You don’t know, but you are growing tired of having the same dreams every night. Of waking up with an exhaustion that goes beyond your restless sleep but pleads from your soul to rest after almost a year of torment.

You sigh wearily, rubbing a hand through your face before walking to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. You find Hyunjin there, eating a cupcake while standing shirtless, scrolling through his phone. You blink at the sight.

“Hey,” you clear your throat and he startles, dropping the cupcake on the ground. He goes to pick it up only to bang his head on the table, a loud yelp escaping his lips. You barely contain your giggles as you walk to his side, rubbing your palm soothingly on his head. “I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you.”

“At least pretend you are sorry,” he mumbles, pointing to your amused smile and you chuckle, taking his hand and helping him to his feet.

“What are you doing up now?” he asks as he grabs some napkins to clean up the pink frosting smeared across the floor.

You hesitate for a few seconds before whispering, “Just nightmares. And you?” you quickly add, not keen on pushing the subject any further.

“I'm working on a song,” he explains, as his gaze lingers on your sunken eyes, weighed down by dark circles from too many sleepless nights.

“And the cupcake?”

“Some people need caffeine to function. I need flour.”

“I literally see you drink three americanos per day.”

“Okay well maybe I need both,” he admits sheepishly and you grin, drumming your fingers along the countertop.

“Can I sit with you while you work?” you ask quickly, before the words linger enough in your mouth that you no longer wish to spit them out.

The smile that Hyunjin sends you is kind, pushing the shadows of your nightmares just slightly out of reach.

“Of course, yeah you can. Don’t even need to ask.”

Hyunjin walks first into his bedroom, quickly slipping on a hoodie while you take in the interior. It is a quite simple room— a large bed with gray covers, and a desk filled with what you assume to be his producing equipment sits adjacent. But what catches your attention is the dried rose hung delicately on the wall, and the array of paintings surrounding it. You edge closer to it, drawn to the well-crafted paintings— a sun-drenched beach, a couple lost in an embrace so intimate their forms can no longer be separated, and an elderly pair riding a motorcycle, their love radiating vibrantly as if enclosed in eternal youth.

“You paint?” you ask, turning around to find Hyunjin watching you. He steps closer, enveloping you once more in the fragrance of his rose perfume.

“In my free time.”

“You are amazing, Hyunjin,” you compliment sincerely, your gaze fixed on that imagery of the old couple, one that most likely grew together. It tugs at your heartstrings, stirs a painful longing within you, a memory of a time when you too believed you’d find such boundless love.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, before brushing his fingertips gently against your forearm, for a fleeting second. “Are you okay?” he asks, a tenderness you’ve been aching for latched into his question. Your eyes refuse to peel away from the paintings and the love spilling from each paint brush stroke, a love that refuses to rest on your being as if you were harboring an armor that repels it.

“No,” you reply sincerely, turning to face him. “It’s really hard,” you say with a smile, hoping that the mechanical display of happiness would keep your tears at bay, tricking your brain into believing you're not as sad as you feel.

It fails to do so, and the tears well in your eyes like a gathering storm. Frustration twists your features as you shut your eyes, tilting your head upward in a desperate attempt to contain the flood. It pauses as Hyunjin cradles the back of your head, drawing you close to the warmth of his neck. His palm glides soothingly along your spine, before patting your back ever so gently.

Your back stiffens, hands curling into tight fists, breath catching in your throat. You've grown accustomed to pushing away comfort, putting up tall barriers to shield yourself. But tonight, Hyunjin seems to break through your defenses.

Tonight, you soften, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, head nestling deeper against his tender skin.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispers and another sob wracks through you, but he only holds you tighter. “It’ll get better soon.”

“I loved him,” you hiccup, your voice breaks, “a lot.”

“I know, that’s why it hurts.” His voice is gentle, and yet his hold on you feels secure as if you could stumble and fall, and he would be there to catch you

“I want it to stop hurting.”

“It will, with time.”

Your next words are tinged with a childlike vulnerability, reminiscent of blow one, then two. But you do not care for it, in that instant, you crave the reassurance, you need someone to plant a seed of hope in your soul because your hands are too frail to dig for it.

“Do you promise me?”

His response doesn’t come hastily, carelessly thrown into the air like idle chatters. He takes his time, considering it with the gravity of an oath.

“I promise you.” He finally says, each syllable infused with sincerity. A brief pause hangs in the air before he adds. “And if it doesn’t then you can hit me.”

“On your pretty face?” you ask, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“On my pretty face,” he confirms with a chuckle.

“What an honor,” you roll your eyes playfully as you lean back and he grins, tenderly wiping away your tears with the back of his fingers.

“I can't believe it took three minutes for you to cry in my room. This isn’t good for my reputation.”

“Good thing this will never leave this bedroom, right?” you point a finger at him threateningly, and he pretends to zip his lips, tossing away the imaginary key. “You got it.”

“So what are you working on?” you ask as you settle on the edge of his bed, knees drawn up to your chest.

“It’s a pretty sad song, wanna hear?” he offers, sitting across from you on his chair.

“Yeah, I'd love to,” you smile, and Hyunjin deftly adjusts a few buttons, before his melancholic whistles weave through the air, coupled with the somber melody of a piano. Your breath catches in your throat, the music reaching into the very depths of your soul. It's as if the notes are calling out for a loved one, for a time that has long passed, for a past that will never come back no matter how much we long for it.

The instrumental continues, each piano note and each violin string echo like a bittersweet lament, springing tears to your eyes. But the melody remains beautiful, akin to the beauty always found in the sadness— in the tears that cascade down your cheeks like glistening crystals, in the tremble of your hands akin to branches swaying in the wind, in the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, mirroring the ebb and flow of the waves.

Hyunjin watches you intently as the music envelops you both, his gaze softening with each passing moment. You bring a hand to your chest, almost unconsciously, too engrossed in the melody to even blink. He feels a blush sprout on his cheeks as your teary eyes hold his with the last fading guitar strings.

“You keep on making me cry,” you whisper, your voice choked with emotion, and he grins, tilting his head shyly against his shoulder.

“You like it?” he asks, a tad eager and you nod, not bothering to wipe the lone tears that are falling down your cheeks.

“I think this is what my loneliness sounds like,” you confess softly.

“As do mine.”

A silent beat runs between you both, it isn’t uncomfortable, but safe. Because you understand him, just as he understands you.

“Sometimes I long for things that have passed," he admits, “although I know I can't get them anymore.”

“The most terrible thing you can long for is yourself.”

“Because no one’s to blame for that loss but you?” he muses and you nod, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, exactly.”

You bite your lip, casting a glance back at the paintings adorning the wall. “I don't love him anymore,” you begin quietly. “I stopped a long time ago because there was no room for love anymore to grow amid weeds and thorns.”

He remains silent, sensing that this is a weight you need to unburden yourself from.

“But in the midst of it I think I stopped loving myself too,” you whisper, a confession too terrible to be uttered out loud. “That's what I long for. The things I used to love that I'm indifferent to now.”

“Like you’re a stranger before everything once familiar to you.”

“Yeah, you express it prettily,” you remark with a small smile.

“It's my job,” he grins lightly.

“I think when your heart is pure,” he begins after a while, pausing to carefully choose the words that will soothe your burn, help sleep come more easily to you. “You give love to others more readily than you do to yourself. And it takes time, patience, to redirect that love back to your own heart once again. But it's not a mistake to love, you shouldn’t hate yourself for it. Nor should you blame your past self for loving the wrong person because they did not know what you now do.”

“Think of it as a caterpillar in their cocoon,” he continues gently, “when they finally emerge from their chrysalis, they might long for who they were, where they once were because it is the only place they've ever known. But they do not realize that they've transformed into a beautiful butterfly, that they can now fly, and witness much more than their chrysalis. So maybe, your new self will love the same things as before, or maybe you’ll find new, better things to love that you would have not known before. But in either way, your heart is beautiful. That is what matters, no?”

A small pout draws on your lips, your eyebrows scrunched as you gaze at him.

“You have a very tender soul, Hyunjin.”

Your words linger in Hyunjin's mind long after the sunrise, as you lay peacefully asleep on his bed. The melody of the instrumental he produced continues to play faintly in the background, serving as a gentle lullaby that eases you into slumber, entwined in his sheets, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself, one hand cradling your shoulders and the other resting gently on your stomach. The image sears into his eyes as he sketches the outlines of a figure holding itself absentmindedly, long into the night.

Hyunjin has had his fair share of compliments, mostly pertaining to his face, and others to his craft. but it is you who seems to have sensed that a part of his soul resided in his art, that he left pieces of his heart hidden in the notes he composes and the lyrics he writes, hoping they’ll find soft hands that will take care of them, just like your own.

Five days later.

hyunjin [11:34 p.m.]: are you home?

yn [11:34 p.m.]: yeahh, do you need anything?

hyunjin [11:35 p.m.]: come downstairs, im waiting for youu

if you say no i’ll freeze to death..

hurry i can’t feel my fingers anymore (please please) ㅠㅠㅠ

“This better be a life and death situation Hwang Hyunjin,” you say threateningly as soon as you appear before Hyunjin, causing him to straighten up from the wall he was leaning against.

“It is a very dangerous life-altering situation that requires your immediate assistance, indeed,” he responds solemnly, ushering you gently to his car and opening the door for you.

“Which is?” you ask as soon as he settles inside the car and he simply grins at you, his left dimple coming forth like the very sun on a gloomy day.

“You’ll see.”

Hyunjin’s eyes fleet to your figure every now and then, but you do not seem to notice, your gaze lost into the blurring lights ahead. He can tell you're still not entirely yourself, so he was prepared to forcibly drag you along with him. He’s almost surprised you accepted to come down so easily.

“Is that… Seungmin?” you speak suddenly, pointing to a man waving in the distance, as Hyunjin parks his car near an empty field.

“And Changbin? And Minho?” you continue, squinting your eyes, “and a bonfire?” you giggle with a hint of excitement.

“You love s’mores during the winter, right?”

Hyunjin smiles, your soul softens.

“I do,” you say quietly, “I really do.”

You quickly exit the car, running into Seungmin's arms with a grin of disbelief plastered on your face. “This is insane,” you almost shout, squeezing him tight in a hug.

“It was so hard to find the perfect middle of nowhere for this,” Minho grumbles as you move to greet him, but the warmth of his embrace assures you he's only teasing.

“Thank you,” you say with a smile as you hug Changbin, who affectionately ruffles your hair. “It was Hyunjin’s idea,” he reveals, and you glance back at Hyunjin, who stands with his hands buried deep within his sweatpants behind you. You mouth a silent “thank you” to him, but he shakes his head modestly as if it is nothing to bring happiness to a bruised heart.

The night unfolds in endless laughter, with Minho and Hyunjin taking turns roasting marshmallows over the crackling bonfire, and Seungmin serving you hot coffee to keep your hands warm. Your stomach aches from the uncontrollable fits of giggles that overtook your being as Minho recounts the time he danced so vigorously on stage for his dance club that he ripped his pants, feeling a breeze where there shouldn't be one; and Changbin tells you the story of the time his voice cracked in the middle of a rap battle, and how none of the boys stopped teasing him about it for months to come.

And as the four of them take turns making you laugh, a quiet, tender realization dawns on you—you are loved. It is something he tried to convince you was impossible, that no one around truly cared for you but him. And even then, you weren’t deserving of his love whole, only scrapes of it, as if you were a beggar tugging at the outskirts of his heart.

But Hyunjin reminded you otherwise. And if your friends found something worthy of love within you then perhaps so will you again, one day.

“Did you have fun?” Hyunjin asks as he opens the door to his, your, apartment hours later. What he doesn't expect is for you to respond by wrapping your arms around his slender torso, squeezing tight in gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whisper and he nods, though you cannot see him, returning the embrace by wrapping his arms around your shoulder blades.

Hyunjin doesn't let go first, sensing that perhaps you need this hug more than he does. He smiles as your eyes meet his again, but his grin falters when he notices your gaze flickering towards your bedroom, a hint of unease clouding your expression. It's as if behind that door lie monsters only you can grasp, wearing the faces of people you once knew, once loved.

“Wanna stay with me while I work on the song?”

“Last time I ended up sleeping on your bed,” you say a bit shamefully, recalling the morning you woke up to find yourself covered with a thick blanket that wasn’t there before, alone in Hyunjin's room.

“It's okay,” he shrugs, “I missed sleeping on the couch.”

You stare pointedly at him and he chuckles, “Fine, I did not miss it. But you needed the sleep, so it’s okay with me.”

“Fine,” you concede, though you did not need much convincing for it. “But only if you promise you’ll wake me up if I end up falling asleep again.”

Hyunjin tilts his head, thinking to himself for a few seconds before shaking his head stubbornly, a small pout drawn on his face, his eyes semi-closed. “No.”

“Hyunjin!”

“Nu-uh,” he insists, shaking his head once more as he walks back towards his room. “I'm waiting for you!”

“I'm not coming!”

But you do eventually join him, after changing your clothes and washing your face. You find Hyunjin clad in beige and white checkered pajamas, his glasses pushing back his silky hair as he hunches over his journal, scribbling away before erasing what he wrote.

“Struggling with lyrics?” you ask, leaning against the wall and he startles. “Do you float on the ground? Why can I never hear you come in?”

“Or maybe you just love being dramatic,” you sing-song, laying atop his bed, much more at ease than the previous night.

Hyunjin sticks his tongue out childishly in response, and you playfully mimic the gesture before both of you dissolve into happy giggles.

“Kind of,” he explains once you both settle down, “I have this specific feeling in mind that I need to convey.”

“You'll do well,” you reassure softly, “your lyrics are always so beautiful. Remember Cover me?” you smile and he scratches the back of his ear, a shy grin spreading across his face.

“You still listen to it?” he asks and you nod eagerly, attempting to belt into Seungmin’s ending high note. You fail horribly and Hyunjin throws a crumpled piece of paper on your face to get you to stop singing.

“My poor ears,” he laughs loudly, and you retaliate by throwing back a pillow on his head.

“You just don’t get my artistic abilities.”

“I’d get them more if you stayed silent.”

You gasp, faking offense as you stand up to tickle Hyunjin on his chair, he starts squirming immediately, his loud giggles spilling all over the room, coating it in vibrant hues of happiness, and you’re suddenly captivated by the sight of him— his head thrown back, a golden lock framing his laughter-filled eyes, his top lowering slightly to reveal glimpses of his collarbones and the delicate veins that trace enticing paths on his neck.

You pause, your hand hovering over the side of his stomach, as a long-forgotten warmth spreads through your heart, like the first rays of dawn greeting the earth after a long winter night. It doesn’t diffuse quickly through your being, but rather drapes like sticky honey on your veins, making you well aware of your growing blush, of how beautiful Hyunjin is in his joy.

“Never singing to you again,” you clear your throat, laying atop his bed once again, and quickly reaching for your phone, anything to avoid his eyes which rival the crescent moon outside his window.

Hours pass before a warm hand gently settles on your shoulder, rousing you from your slumber. Blinking away the fog of sleep, you find Hyunjin leaning over you, his grin wide and infectious. “Wake up,” he whispers, but you only groan, burying your face deeper into his pillow.

He doesn’t yield, taking hold of your wrist and guiding your drowsy figure upright, before wrapping the blanket snugly around your shoulders. Without a word, he leads you out onto his balcony, carefully putting his neon green beanie on your head to shield you from the cold.

“It’s snowing!” he smiles, and his excited tone manages to dissipate the fog in your mind. You blink repeatedly and soon enough, you too behold the fallen snowflakes, each one resembling a tiny speck of light bidding farewell to the sky to greet the earth.

“You missed the first snow so I didn’t want you to miss this one too,” he explains, and his thoughtfulness blankets you with a warmth that seeps into every crevice in your body, drips down your fingertips and makes the cold of 4 a.m. seem less harsh, less biting to the touch.

You don’t know how to say thank you, because those two words don’t encapsulate the depths of gratitude that you feel for Hyunjin. Because he is speaking to the person within you who still loves snow, the part buried underneath layers of dust from a ground heartbreak. But you still manage to hear him, and you squeeze his hand tightly, and he doesn’t let go until you finally do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Remembering has become easier for you these past two months— both the good and the bad. And each day, the scale tips towards one side or the other. Sometimes you recall the suffocation you felt with him, the feeling that no matter what you did you could never please him, that your hands were crafted to break rather than mend. And on those days your wound grows, it throbs and bleeds different emotions.

Sometimes it's anger— at him for treating your heart so carelessly as if you were a being devoid of feeling. And then at you— for staying, for giving him excuses and desperately searching for goodness within him, for the one redeeming quality that would convince you he was worth the pain.

And other days bring an excruciating sadness along, a weight that presses down upon you until you're paralyzed. Because you feel bad for yourself and for everything you went through. Because you’re unsure how to rise when unseen hands push you deeper into the abyss.

And on these days, Seungmin becomes your anchor. He buys your favorite food, skips classes with you, and takes you to your favorite gardens. He talks and he talks and you try your best to laugh because you do not wish to worry him more. It is enough to be your own burden, you do not wish to burden him too.

But when he drops you home, your facade slips away, the smile fading from your face as if it were never truly yours to wear. You are too tired to pretend so you don’t, and Hyunjin doesn’t let you, either. He brews you tea and orders takeout because he knows you lack the energy for cooking. He goes with you on walks and drapes you in pieces of his clothing— scarves and beanies and gloves because he knows you couldn’t care less about a cold when there is a frost coating your bones. He lets you sit in his room while he works on his songs, and while he paints. Sometimes you talk and often you don't need to. But he’s there. He's there with you.

But you also remember the good. You remember your movie night with the boys, Hyunjin building an entire fort for you, adorned with twinkling lights and the softest blankets. How you watched movies until 5 a.m. your bodies so closely huddled together that there was no room left for sadness.

You recall Hyunjin begging you to build a snowman with him at the crack of dawn, the two of you collapsing in fits of laughter as you threw snowballs at one another, your footsteps marking the fresh fallen snow.

You remember being so exhausted after one of your showers that you simply laid atop the couch, gaze fixed on the void, too drained to even untangle the knots in your hair. Yet, it is not the tiredness that you exactly recall, nor the salty tears you shed underneath the scorching water jet. But it is Hyunjin's tender hands as he brushed through your hair, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck, his knuckles ghosting over the slate of your shoulder. You remember whispering that it was a particularly hard day and Hyunjin understanding. You remember him watching many YouTube tutorials to prepare your favorite seaweed soup, only for it to end up being too salty. But you still ate it all, because he made it for you, to lift your wounded spirits. And that alone was enough for it to taste good.

You remember your heart hardening then softening again, breaking then stitching itself back together, closing off then blooming like flowers on the first day of spring. You remember smiling only to cry then smile again. And you remember liking snow, a bit more than you thought you would. Because Hyunjin was there, holding your trembling hand, steadying it enough for you to rewrite your memories with winter.

So, you want to say thank you.

You do not wish to spell it out, because there are too many things to thank Hyunjin for and too few words to do so. Instead, you drag him to the farmer’s market near your home, and you tell him to help you pick flowers.

“I could be in bed watching my favorite show and yet here I am bestowing you with my enchanting presence,” he sighs, not too modestly, as you both eye the array of colorful blooms.

“Okay, Shakespeare, are you done?” you roll your eyes, attempting your best to hide your grin.

“Done annoying you? Never. These are very pretty,” he adds, pointing to the white roses in full bloom, their delicate petals emitting a sweet fragrance into the air.

“I agree, what else should we add?” you ponder, picking out four roses.

“Mm, Hibiscus? The red in the center is so vibrant,” he suggests, taking out his phone to capture the flower.

“Cute. Baby breath’s would look good too,” you say as you gather the flowers, heading to the cashier with Hyunjin trailing behind, still admiring the delicate blooms.

“Can I write a note?” you ask the middle-aged man as he wraps the bouquet in a powder blue paper.

“Sure,” he replies with a smile, and you return the gesture, quickly jotting down your words.

“Are you done?” Hyunjin grins when you return to his side and you nod, exiting the flower shop.

“What do you think?” you ask, angling the bouquet towards him.

“It's beautiful.”

“It’s yours,” you smile, growing shier at the intensity of his gaze as it lands on you, then the flowers, then on you again. “Take it,” you hand it to him, your cheeks flushing like the hibiscus’s crimson core.

“Actually?” he says softly, his fingers trembling slightly as he accepts the flowers and you nod in response. You bite your lip as you watch him take out the note, his eyes softening once he reads the words inscribed in it— thank you for making my winter less cold.

“Should we go?” you say a tad too cheerfully, turning away, but Hyunjin grabs your wrist, spinning you around once more. His fingers trail up your arm, coming to rest gently on your cheek as he leans down to plant a tender kiss there.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than necessary. You think that if his soft lips grace your skin a few times more, your nerve endings might forget the harshness they were subjected to. If his gentle hands remain on your cheeks, then maybe, your heart would heal quicker, better. Maybe your past self that you long for would emerge again, maybe Hyunjin would be able to unearth it.

Your hopeful thoughts disappear as quickly as they arrive, overshadowed by a sense of helplessness that crashes over you, all of the sudden. You sense him before you hear him, the familiar anxiety that is only synonymous with your ex’s presence.

“Yn?” the sound of your name feels harsher in his mouth, the syllables spat out rather than spoken tenderly, as they are when Hyunjin pronounces it. Your veins run cold as his voice pierces the air, your heart skipping three beats at once before plummeting to your knees. You wrap your hand around Hyunjin’s forearm instinctively, and he looks down at you, his expression morphing into one of concern.

You’re unsure of what he sees in you— whether it is your pale face, the quiver of your lower lip, or the fear that has coated all your features— but his eyes harden, his brows furrowing as he gazes at the man behind you.

You refuse to turn around, bracing yourself for his next words. “Yn,” he repeats his tone laced with anger, his fingertips grazing your arm as if intending to force you to face him. But before he can touch you, Hyunjin intervenes, swiftly stepping in between you and your ex, shielding you with his own body protectively.

“Leave,” Hyunjin's voice is cold, dripping with a venomous edge you've never heard from him before, his jaw clenching with barely contained fury.

“Is this your new shiny toy, Yn?” your ex taunts and his voice cuts through your being against your will, triggering a flood of memories you've tried so desperately to suppress. Memories of his cruelty, his manipulation, and the pain he inflicted upon you—using your love as a weapon to bolster his own ego.

“What's in it for you?” you find your voice again, though it trembles when you speak. He is the very embodiment of your pain and everything you loathe about yourself. You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, for a bolt of lightning to strike the earth, anything to spare you from facing him.

“It's only been three months, I didn't know you were a whore.”

Hyunjin's fist connects with his cheek before you can register his words. It all unfolds so rapidly that you barely have time to comprehend it. Your ex staggers back, blood trickling from the cut on his lip, while Hyunjin stands before you, his chest heaving with restrained anger, his right hand clenched into a fist, the bouquet still held tightly in the other.

“Fine, I deserved it,” your ex chuckles, his voice laced with mockery as he wipes the blood from his lip. His gaze meets yours briefly behind Hyunjin's back.

“You might not be a whore but you are unlovable, keep that in mind.” He spits out before walking away, crude words that tear at every scab covering your wounds, reopening them with a brutal force. Hyunjin moves to follow him, but you grab his shirt, pulling him back.

“He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Your words seem to snap Hyunjin out of his haze as he turns to look at you, worry cast across his figure. He moves to cradle your cheeks but you step back, refusing to meet his eyes. He swallows thickly, clutching the bouquet in his hands. “Are you okay?”

You let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping as you shake your head slightly. “Let's just go home,” you whisper, eyes fleeting to his for a split second. All the lights in your gaze are muted.

You’re crumbling before him once again and he cannot stop it, no matter how much he yearns to.

It's long past midnight when you find yourself seated on the floor of your living room, a bottle of red wine placed between you and Hyunjin. You exchange it wordlessly, taking turns sipping from it, the alcohol warming your insides but doing little to ease the ache in your heart. You don’t exactly recall when Hyunjin sat next to you, but you don’t mind. You were too lost in your own thoughts to even register his presence.

“Yn,” he calls out softly and you hum absentmindedly, memories of when your ex spoke your name haunting you, each time he yelled your name, uttered it in disdain as if it was the starting point of everything wrong with you.

“Talk to me, please?” he pleads, angling his body towards your own. But you refuse to meet his eyes and Hyunjin’s heart twists in his chest. He is afraid of all the ugly thoughts that must roam your mind. He wishes he could enter it, open the windows wide, and usher the light in.

“I'm sorry you were dragged into this,” you say, your gaze fixated on the bouquet placed atop the table. The crimson painted on the hibiscus’ petals reminds you of the blood that spilled from your ex’s mouth, and your gaze fleets to Hyunjin's hand, slightly bruised from the punch.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers, “there is nothing to be sorry for.”

It’s as though you don’t hear him, your fingers trailing gently across his scraped knuckles, tears pooling in your eyes the more you stare at his hand.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, voice thick with emotion, and Hyunjin’s quick to shake his head. “No, don’t worry about it. He deserved it.”

“You didn’t deserve to be hurt.”

“Neither did you.”

Your disbelieving scoff that follows scares him. What if you’re slipping away into a dark place yet again, one void and barricaded, in which the only sound that echoes is your ex’s hurtful words? What if he can’t reach you again?

“If the only person I’ve ever loved says I’m unlovable then maybe I am.”

You’re drunk, you wouldn’t have said such an ugly thing otherwise, wouldn’t have allowed this sentiment to materialize into the air, to take a tangible form apart from your abstract thoughts.

“No,” Hyunjin says in a panic as though he’s trying to quickly pull the brakes on your free-railing thoughts. He cups your face between his palms, your tears falling freely atop his hands but he does not move away.

“No,” he repeats, more calmly this time. “How he treated you is a reflection of who he is. And how you see him is a reflection of who you are. And you wanted him to be loving because you’re full of love. You wanted him to be good because you are a good person. And he can’t stomach that, can’t stomach that you are happy without him so he’s trying to ruin you again.”

“Hyunjin…” you shake your head but he only inches closer to you, his thumbs gently caressing your cheekbones. “No, listen to me. Seungmin loves you so much he couldn’t eat properly for the first few days you stayed here, texted me all the time asking me how you were and if you were feeling better. He isn't good with words so instead he tries to make you laugh. He wishes he could give up parts of his happiness for you.”

A sob swells within you but Hyunjin presses on. “And Minho, he tried to memorize all your favorite recipes so he could cook them for you. It isn’t a coincidence that every time we go over to their dorm it is your favorite food that we eat. He takes more pictures of his cats these days so he could send them to you because he knows it cheers you up.”

“You told me Changbin doesn’t know you well enough to fight for you but when we saw your ex across the campus one day he wanted to get up and beat him. He always asks me if you are well and if there is something he can do for you, anything.”

He inhales deeply, tears welling up in his eyes as well. “And me…” a tender smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, “you make this house a home. I feel like my true self when you are around and loneliness doesn’t come to me as often as it did. Because you are here. You are like a beam of sunlight that lightens up every life you touch, mine first,” he’s baring his soul to you, vulnerable yet resolute. “So tell me, Yn, what’s not to love in you when you yourself are so full of love?”

“Hyune,” you speak the nickname for the first time, and Hyunjin’s heart thrashes achingly around his ribcage. “If you keep talking like this I might end up loving you,” you smile sadly at him as if it is a terrible thing to be loved by you.

“But I don’t want to love you, because I won’t know how to, not anymore. So I'll end up leaving. And I'll long for you, and I don't think I can stomach longing for you from afar.”

“So please,” you place one hand atop his own, wipe away the lone tear rolling down his cheek. “Don’t make me love you, hm? You deserve more than to be loved by someone like me.”

You leave Hyunjin in the living room, alone before the white flowers you gifted him. He doesn’t want to put them away in a vase, for as soon as he grabbed them from your hold, everything around you both crumbled. So he leaves them there for the night, the creamy white petals aglow underneath the moonlight. He spends the night painting the bouquet from memory, but the petals end up too tinged with red, perhaps mirroring the blood his heart refuses to stop spilling still.

He did not realize it before, maybe he blinded himself so he wouldn’t see what was before him all along. But it is all the clearer to him now— that in his attempts to make you love winter again, Hyunjin only ended up loving you.

A week later.

hyune [1:25 a.m.]: i miss you

You and Hyunjin spent the last seven days avoiding one another, well you more than him. He just understood your silent plea when you took a step back the one time he tried to talk to you in the kitchen, swallowing thickly before inching away, allowing you to move past him.

You did not know how to face him after what he said, partly because you were embarrassed by your own response, mostly because even in your drunken daze, his words etched themselves permanently into your memory.

It is his reassuring words that echoed in your brain for the past week, not those of your ex.

hyune [1: 26 a.m.]: and i miss sleeping on the couch

You giggle, shaking your head before replying.

yn [1:26 a.m.]: no you don’t

hyune [1:26 a.m.]: no i don’t ㅠㅠ

but i finished the song

wanna hear?

Walking to Hyunjin’s room feels as familiar as going into your own. And when your gaze finally meets his you can’t help but break into a relieved smile. It was foolish of you to punish yourself, enough people have done that for you already.

“Hey,” he greets tentatively, and you respond with an awkward wave, a moment pregnant with anticipation passes before both of you dissolve into laughter.

“What is this? Are we in middle school,” he teases and you giggle, settling comfortably on his bed once more.

“I know. We are so lame.”

“You are,” he corrects with a grin and you gasp, pretending to leave but he quickly catches your hand, stopping you. “No, please stay. I meant it when I said that I missed you,” he repeats quietly, as if afraid that his confession would make you run away once again.

Your heart aches, the knots in your stomach tightening and unraveling all at once. “I missed you too,” you admit softly, and he smiles, his thumb tracing a gentle path above your pulse before releasing your hand.

“So it's done then?” you ask and he nods, running a hand through his hair with a hint of anxiety. “How do you feel about it?”

“Good. I hope you’ll like it, mostly.”

“I'm sure I will,” you reassure him with a soft smile, and he nods once more, pressing a few buttons before his melodious whistles fill the air once again.

Nothing could have braced you for the sound of Hyunjin's voice that followed, its timbre soft as silk yet imbued with profound sorrow. It's as though he recorded the song on one of his loneliest nights, his honeyed vocals dipped in an excruciating nostalgia that seeps into every corner of the room, every corner of your heart.

In the faded photo, I come across a smile spread across a youthful face, overlapped with the seasons.

Your gaze flickers to Hyunjin as a shadow of recollection dawns on you. You remember telling him that you couldn’t stomach looking at pics of your past, ones in which you smiled so freely because you were blissfully unaware of what was to come.

The night’s so cold that it’s almost unreal.

Because you weren’t aware of the winter that will follow and the biting cold that it would bear, for everything that will go astray in your relationship, for your ex's facade to crack like a glacier succumbing to the pressure of lies and pretense.

I wake up in another silence, and I close my eyes.

You remember Hyunjin confessing that silence haunted him more than words ever could, and you had agreed, sharing how sometimes you shut your eyes, pretending that the reality you woke up to wasn't the one you were living.

The white flower we planted together has bloomed. I do not dare pick it. Now it withers away.

You gaze at the white flowers you brought him, now wilted in the vase placed on his desk, yet Hyunjin refuses to throw them still. You see the card you wrote for him hung on the wall, right next to the dried red rose. He kept it. Though it withered, he kept it all.

So I long for you. And I long for you. And I'll long for you.

You remember the longing you both spoke of, how he understood a feeling you felt so incredibly alone in. How he tried to reassure you when he too was caught in the webs of the past. How you longed for him in the past week. How you wished he longed for you just the same.

So I can keep loving you. So I could be loving you. And morе.

The violin swells and so does the emotion in your chest. You remember him asking you ‘What’s not to love in you’ and how you've spun those words in your thoughts ever since. You remember thinking that if he gave you a few more weeks, just a bit more time, you might have found it in you to believe them.

You see Hyunjin’s glimmering eyes holding yours, you see his heart atop a platter handed to you, and you see the resignation in his being. Don’t make me love you, you told him. You didn’t dare to tell him not to love you in return, deemed it too foolish of thought to entertain.

For he was Hwang Hyunjin, the quiet producer who paints in his free time and who wears his heart on his sleeve. Who remains hopeful, loving, and tender, despite the thorns pricking at his side. Who is beautiful, so much so that he allowed you to see beauty in the universe once again, through his eyes.

How could he love you?

How could you not love him?

“The song,” you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips as you stand, trembling, on your feet. Hyunjin rises too, meeting you in the center of his room.

“It is about you. For you,” he says simply as if his words don’t cause your world to burst at the seams only to mend itself once again, too eager to fix itself and exist in the same timeline as Hyunjin.

“I don't… I don’t know what to say,” you say earnestly, feeling your heart pound in your chest, its beats resounding loudly in your ears.

It is wrong of you to assume he wishes you to say something. He is Hyunjin, the one who finds words in your silences too, after all.

“I don’t need you to say anything,” he shakes his head, taking another step closer to you. “I don't want an answer, I don't wish to pressure you. I just wanted to tell you that my love is here, it is yours to take or to leave, to cherish or to discard. But it is yours, because this is who I am. I am someone who loves you.”

“So do not tell me to forget you because I don't know how to. And don’t tell me that you’ll leave because I will love you still, because you’d still be you, near or far, you are you. And you are someone I long for.” He pauses, his voice softening. “And I long for you, Yn, more than anything I've ever longed for. And I've spent all my life longing.”

His lips meet your forehead tenderly, and you feel your entire being grow limp at the chaste kiss, as if your limbs wish to liquefy and form a puddle on the floor. His touch is soft, and you miss it the moment he parts from you.

“There must be something in this room that keeps on making you cry,” he smiles and you bring your hands to your damp cheeks, surprised to find there tears you didn’t realize had fallen.

“It’s you,” you pinch his arm playfully and he squirms away from your hold, stabbing his toe on the desk in the process. A loud fuck echoes around the room, and your laughter dissipates the tension clinging into the air.

“Can you play it again?” you request softly and Hyunjin’s theatrics fade as a shy smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Is it good?”

“It's everything to me.”

“It's called ‘long for you’, by the way.”

“Long for you,” you repeat quietly. There has never been a prettier combination of words.

The title all but makes sense as you lay on the bed, your gaze fixed on the paintings hung on the wall, Hyunjin sketching quietly on his desk, the song resonating softly in the background. You've longed for many things in your life—the person you once were and the tender love you once craved—but amidst it all, nothing has weighed heavier on your heart than the longing for the man sitting just two meters away, almost in your loving grasp. Almost.

❁ ❁ ❁

It is an excruciating five days that Hyunjin spends apart from you, the both of you too caught up in your assignments to find a moment to properly speak. But you do not shy away from him when he greets you, and your grin is kind as it drapes across his being, and Hyunjin swears he has never seen a prettier sight than you smiling.

On the sixth night, Hyunjin completes the cover for the song— a figure wrapped around itself protectively, mirroring the way you hug yourself in your sleep. He hangs it on the wall, right next to your thank you card and the white bouquet he drew once again, wishing to properly immortalize its beautiful flowers, to purify that memory from the tumult that followed it.

On the sixth night, the house is quiet, the full moon high up in the sky, snowflakes falling softly to the ground. Hyunjin wonders if you too mimicked the snow’s descent— both of you falling apart with it.

But then, there’s a knock on his door.

His heart catches in his throat, his body freezing as if it forgot how to move. You are here.

“Come in,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. You push the door open, and Hyunjin's words wilt on his tongue as he sees what you're carrying—another bouquet, filled with white flowers, yet again.

“Hey,” you smile, standing by the door.

He remains silent, unsure of what to say, or how to speak. He longs for you when you are away, even more so when you’re before him.

“We shouldn't let these white flowers wither away too, right?” you smile slightly, placing the bouquet on the desk before walking to Hyunjin’s bedside. His voice falters, vocal cords refusing to move and overshadow your voice.

You sit beside him, gently pulling his hand so that you’d both lie on the pillows. Your hand doesn’t leave his own, instead, it moves to rest on his cheek, reminiscent of the many times he had cradled your face before. Inch by inch, you close the gap between you, nuzzle the tip of your nose against his own. “Hi, Hyune”, you say softly, and he swallows thickly, his voice coming out just as quietly.

“Hi, my Yn.”

“If we take care of the white flowers together do you think they’ll survive a bit longer?” you ask, your gaze never wavering from his, countless stars twinkling in the depths of your irises.

“I believe so,” he says tentatively, too aware of the warmth of your palm against his skin, of the sweet ache unfurling within his being.

“Mm, and even if they wilt we can always buy new ones. We can learn how to care for them better, with time,” you say, and he nods in agreement, laying his hand atop your own, tilting his head to bestow a chaste kiss on your palm.

“With time,” he echoes softly and you smile, vulnerable yet secure in his gray sheets, in his hold.

“Will you give me time too?” you ask, and Hyunjin reads in your eyes what you mean, understands in the shake of your voice the question you are too afraid to voice. Will he give you time to heal in order to love?

“As long as you need. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures, pressing his forehead gently atop yours, and you both close your eyes, as a running warmth encloses you both, blooms a blush on both your cheeks.

His arms wrap around your back, drawing you close until your chests are pressed together, your head resting naturally in the curve of his neck. And it is long forgotten in your mind, all the nights you slept in this very bed alone. You feel safe, safe enough to long for love knowing that it patiently awaits you behind the door, once you find enough courage to turn the doorknob. You feel serene, as Hyunjin’s warm palms glide soothingly up and down your spine, as every muscle, every nerve, every atom in your being relaxes in his hold.

You are healing, slowly, with each fleeting second that passes in which Hyunjin’s heartbeat resounds within your chest, as its melody runs through your veins, melds with your own as if it was destined to be there all along. As you rest in Hyunjin, as you find a safe home within his soul to discard your worries at the doorstep and breathe.

“It did get better,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Hm?” He leans back to look at you, and he’s so beautiful, so tender as he gazes at you, you can’t help but trace the contours of his face with your fingers, hoping to commemorate him with your eyes, with your touch.

“You promised me it’ll get better, and it did,” you smile, as your legs further intertwine with his, and his rose perfume becomes an indelible mark on your skin. “Too bad I can't hit your pretty face now,” you joke and he giggles, tipping his head back.

He's so beautiful, body and soul, and he longs for you, you alone.

“But I can still do this,” you murmur before finally pressing your lips against his like a boat finally reaching the shore after months of sailing. You both exhale, in yearning, in relief, as your mouths move together in a slow, languid dance, his hand finding the pulse on your neck, yours settling atop his jaw.

He would kiss you again, this intimately, in the coming months, when your heart expands enough to contain the love Hyunjin deserves. He would kiss you again, when your past comes to haunt you, and healing sounds like an elusive myth you’d never encounter in your life.

And he would kiss you again, over the kitchen table and under the fridge’s light, in between paintings and in supermarket aisles, while picking flowers and watching the first snow.

He would kiss you, this tenderly, in the next winter, and the ones after it, as if his longing for you never wanes. Till blow three disappears from your memory, till all you remember is the love, the true one, the kind one, the soft one Hyunjin alone could have brought you.

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kisses4reid · 3 months

Text

ruined surprises | ·˚ ༘ aaron hotchner ,,

summary - you accidentally find a small, red, velvet box in aaron’s drawers.

genre - fluff, nonbau!reader x aaron, proposals, engagement rings, happy ending

warnings - mentions of anxiety, mixed feelings, um… being proposed to???

w.c. - idk why i put this here i never check before uploading. it’s only like 1k you’ll be okay.

a/n - hey pia why don’t we edit those drafts for the requests- no. ima do my own thing 😏🕷️also pls tell me abt mistakes i did not proof read this lol!

You sat at your dining table staring into space, or more specifically the bare wood in front of you. There were mixed emotions coursing through your veins. You felt as if your blood was changing from pink to green in the ugly mesh of conflicting feelings.

While this revelation brought you happiness and immense excitement, it also brought you fear. You were not supposed to find this, at least not now.

It stood prominent in your pocket, a pandora’s box of possibilities on how Aaron would react to your discovery. Would he be scared? Angry? Sad?

Your fingers picked at your nails as you took steadying breaths. The clock read only 5 minutes before Aaron returns from his vigorous job, 5 minutes before you’d have to reluctantly tell him you found the one thing he had been hiding from you.

The front door opens to your apartment and your palms start sweating in insecurity.

He’s tired, he’s worked all day, maybe it’s not the best time to bring it up. But what if he found out you knew the whole time? You’d be lying to him, and he values honesty above all else. What if it’s not for you? A gift, or maybe even an heirloom? Everything in your head started to doubt the one thing you wanted it to mean.

“Honey?”

Aaron stood at the end of the table, eyebrows low and eyes squinted slightly in concern. Coming home to your favourite person disassociating rigidly wasn’t a very warm welcome home. He would usually be greeted by a kiss, or the smell of a meal, or a bear hug. This was off, this was different.

“Aaron.” You smile, genuinely. Even with your anxiety raising your heartbeat by the second, there’s nothing that can keep you smiling from the sight of your handsome lover. Though the feeling was not long lived.

“Are you okay?” He asks, placing his bag down on the table and loosening his tie slightly.

“I’m… We need to talk.” You say with a gulp. You lowered your head and glanced at his expression quickly. It came out more serious than it needed to be, and honestly Aaron started thinking the worse.

He sat on the chair next to you and searched your avoiding eyes, “Y/n-“

“Before you say anything, and before I tell you about what,” you waved your hands slightly, “we’re actually talking about. I need you to know that if I’m wrong you can’t laugh at me, and you can’t get angry. Okay?”

He nodded more confused than ever. Okay so, the fact that he could possibly laugh from this ‘talk’ was a sign it wasn’t anything too bad. He only wished you’d stop taking deep breaths and get too it.

You sighed, tired of your own stalling before reaching in your back pocket and putting a small, deep red velvet box on the table. Aaron’s dark eyes latched onto the box and he sighed, bringing a hand up to mess with his hair in shock.

“Do you know what’s in there?” Maybe you hadn’t-

You nodded. He nodded back and closed his mouth in a tight lipped grimace. This was not how he planned his proposal to go.

You took a deep breath and quickly defended yourself, “I lost my sports bra, and I thought maybe I put it in your drawers accidentally so I opened them and found… that.”

Aaron looked into your eyes, you looked scared but as he watched your eyes soften he knew that you weren’t scared of the implications, you were scared you had done the wrong thing.

“Thank you for not pretending to be oblivious.” He said smoothly, receiving a small smile in return. It warmed his heart. Jesus, he thought you were breaking up with him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have looked through your stuff. I’ve ruined the surprise, your surprise-“

“It’s okay.” He smiled, bringing his hand over yours, pulling it to his mouth and kissing your knuckles. You smile softly and he continues, “Honestly, it’s a little embarrassing.”

“How?” You tilted your head and furrowed your brows, running your thumb over the back of his hand softly.

“Now you know I want to marry you.” Aaron’s cheeks reddened only slightly, and you laughed to bask in it. It wasn’t often you got your lover blushing.

“You told me you wanted to marry me on our fourth date. Trust me, I remember.”

He laughed this time and looked down at the box. “Did you like the ring?”

“I didn’t get a good look because I shut it immediately. I pinched my finger in the clasp.” You displayed your fingertip as proof, “But from what I saw, it was perfect.”

You didn’t ruin his plans at all, he thought. It wasn’t a terrible revelation, you didn’t give it to him and run away, you didn’t let him down easy. You were honest and turned the moment into a core memory. You laughed. Everything was good when you laughed.

Aaron placed a soft hand on your cheek and placed a loving kiss on your lips, you smiled into it. “You’ll just have to wait longer now.” He whispered jokingly, to which you slapped him on the chest and whined, no fair.

No. What wasn’t fair was that he would get the best life, with the most perfect wife in the world, and others wouldn’t.

But it was hard to feel sorry for others when you were in front of him.

About a month later. Aaron Hotchner decided he couldn’t wait any longer.

Aaron’s arm was on the back rest of the couch, legs stretched on a foot rest and you cross-legged beside him explaining the deep lore behind the movie that was playing in the background. You were blabbering on, voice changing between characters that you tried to imitate, and topic lighting up your face more than the TV screen.

And Aaron’s heart just couldn’t take it. He needed to ask you to marry him more than he needed anything else in the world. Those four words seemed to be the only cure to his love sickness (though he knew it would only get worse).

You laughed at one of your own jokes, and started to calm down your explanation.

“And that’s why the first actor got replaced.” You smiled and placed your hands in your lap, face triumphant. Aaron smiled softly, eyes tracing your face with love and adoration.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asked.

You nodded, thinking it would be about the movie, “Of course.”

“Will you marry me?” He took the familiar velvet box from his sweatpant’s pocket and clicked it open, cheeks hurting in a smile as the ring was exposed to you for the second time. Aaron mentally scolded himself for not having a speech ready but seriously, he had not planned to do it tonight. It was a yearning, a need. Everything he would say to you, he promised to say a million times in your marriage as to not feel guilty about the bland proposal.

You held a hand over your mouth. Eyes glistening quickly, heartbeat seemingly still in your chest.

“Yes, oh my god. Aaron- Yes!” You threw yourself on him and squeezed his shoulders and back in a hug so tight he had to pat your back to get you off.

Not that he wanted you to stop, he just wanted to see you with a ring on your finger as quick as he could.

perm taglist (open!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover

#criminal minds #aaron hotch oneshot #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x fe!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner x you #🍵 —☆ pia’s pages

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vanteguccir · 2 months

Note

can u write about y/n doing that one tiktok trend where she tells Matt/Chris to get out of the room while she changes and he’s all shocked n stuff 😭😭

matt:

matt would be so disconcerted, not believing that you want him to get out of your shared bedroom so you can change after so many times seeing you naked, he would think he did something wrong and that you were feeling insecure, being a lost puppy 😭😭

- here's a small blurb of it -

Y/N stood at the foot of the bed, rummaging through the closet for a fresh change of clothes. Matt was sprawled on the bed, his laptop propped up on a pillow as he half-heartedly worked on answering some emails. Every few minutes, he'd glance up at her, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched her move around the room.

"Hey, honey?" Y/N called out, trying to keep her tone casual. "Could you step out of the room for a minute? I need to get changed."

Matt's eyes shot up from the screen, his expression instantly transforming into one of confusion. His brows furrowed, and his mouth opened slightly as if to ask a question, but no words came out. He just stared at her, blinking a few times as if trying to process what she'd said.

"Wait, what?" He finally managed to utter, sitting up straighter on the bed. "You want me to leave the room? Why?"

Y/N suppressed a grin, keeping her face as neutral as possible.

"I just need some privacy, that's all."

Matt looked even more bewildered.

"But... I've seen you naked like a million times, babe. We live together. Why do you need privacy now?" His eyes were wide, resembling those of a lost puppy. He looked genuinely hurt, and Y/N felt a pang of guilt for a moment, but she pressed on with the prank.

"I don't know, Matt." She said, her voice deliberately casual. "I just feel like I need some space right now."

Matt's confusion deepened, and he swung his legs off the bed, standing up but not moving towards the door. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes fixed on her with a mix of worry and sadness.

"Are you... are you feeling insecure about something? Because you're so pretty, Y/N. You're perfect. You don't need to feel that way."

The earnestness in his voice made Y/N's heart melt a little. She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"It's not that, Matt. I just... I don't know, I need some time to myself."

Matt took a step closer, his expression pleading.

"But why now? Did I do something to make you feel uncomfortable? Because I swear, I think you're the most beautiful person in the world. You don't need to hide from me."

Y/N could see the genuine concern in his eyes, and she almost caved in. Almost. But she wanted to see just how far she could take this.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong." She said softly. "I just... I just need a moment."

Matt looked utterly defeated. He took another step towards the door, his shoulders slumping.

"Okay, if that's what you want." He said quietly.

Y/N watched as he reluctantly reached for the doorknob, his movements slow and hesitant. She could see the hurt in his eyes, and it was too much for her to bear. Just as he was about to turn the knob, she burst out laughing.

"Matt, wait!" She called, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice. "I'm just messing with you!"

Matt froze, turning to look at her with a mix of confusion and relief.

"What?"

"I'm pranking you." Y/N admitted, still giggling. "I just wanted to see how you'd react."

The confusion on Matt's face slowly gave way to a look of realization, and then he started to laugh. He let go of the doorknob and walked back to her, shaking his head.

"You little brat." He said, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. "You really had me worried there."

Y/N grinned up at him, her arms looping around his neck.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. You just looked so lost and confused."

chris:

chris would for sure be confused and upset, I feel he would question you and be a little brat when you insist, rolling his eyes to you and acting like you were crazy LMAO

- here's a small blurb for it -

Y/N stood in front of the closet, rifling through hangers as she searched for something to wear. Chris was sprawled out on their bed, propped up against the headboard with his phone in his hands, glancing up occasionally to watch her.

Y/N pulled a dress from the closet and held it up, examining it critically. After a moment, she turned to Chris, a playful glint in her eye.

"Hey, babe, can you step out for a minute? I need to get changed."

Chris's head snapped up, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"What?" His voice was a mixture of confusion and amusement. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah." Y/N said, trying to keep a straight face. "I need some privacy."

Chris blocked his phone screen, throwing it to the side above the mattress as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stood up, towering over her with his broad frame.

"Privacy?" He repeated, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "We've been together for how long now? And you suddenly need privacy?" His voice sounded high-pitched.

Y/N bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"Yes, Chris. I just... I need a minute to myself."

Chris stepped closer, his presence commanding and gentle all at once.

"Are you feeling okay?" He placed a hand on her cheek, tilting her head up so he could look into her eyes. "Did something happen?"

"No, nothing happened." Y/N replied, her resolve starting to waver under his intense gaze. She knew he could be bossy, but he was also incredibly gentle, which made her expect his reaction eagerly. "I just... I thought it might be nice to have a little space."

Chris let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

"Space? In our bedroom? While you're changing?" He shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You know I’ve seen it all before, right? And that all of it is mine." He gestured for her body with his hands.

"Yes, I know." Y/N said, finally letting a giggle escape. "But, you know, sometimes a girl needs a little mystery."

Chris's eyes sparkled with amusement as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

"Mystery, huh?" His voice was low, teasing. "Alright, I'll play along."

Y/N felt the warmth of his embrace, the steady beat of his heart against her cheek.

"Thank you." She murmured, her face pressed against his chest.

Chris kissed the top of her head before stepping back.

"Okay, I'll step out. But only for a minute." He said, pointing a finger at her playfully. "I expect you to be dressed when I get back."

"Yes, sir." Y/N replied with a mock salute, trying to keep a straight face.

Chris chuckled, shaking his head as he walked to the door. He paused in the doorway, turning back to look at her.

"You're really something, you know that?"

"I do." Y/N said, grinning. "Now go, I need to get changed."

Chris rolled his eyes, but there was a fondness in his gaze.

"Alright, alright. I'm going." He stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Y/N waited a few seconds before she burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the room. She could picture Chris standing just outside the door, probably shaking his head at her antics. She quickly slipped out of her current outfit and into the dress she had chosen, adjusting it in the mirror.

A few minutes later, she opened the door to find Chris leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"Done?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Done." Y/N confirmed, stepping aside to let him back in.

Chris walked in, his eyes immediately scanning her outfit.

"You look beautiful." He said, his voice sincere.

#⋆౨ৎ˚ 𝒍𝒆𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒔 #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #blurb #tiktok #matt sturniolo x reader blurb #matt sturniolo x reader fluff #chris sturniolo x reader blurb #chris sturniolo x reader fluff #fluff

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natalievoncatte · 3 months

Text

“Hey,” Kara said, “want to grab something for lunch?”

Seated at her desk, Lena waved her hand dismissively, even though she was only talking to Kara on the phone.

“I can’t. I have too much to do.”

“You’re the boss, you can just take off. Everyone has to do what you say.”

Lena rolled her eyes. There was a hint of teasing in Kara’s voice, but Lena meant it. L-Corp was in the final stages of a major acquisition. Lena was taking over an AI startup that was developing a key technology for one of her medical division products, and to make it viable she needed their patents, IP, and scientific talent.

“I really am swamped.”

“Can’t you spare half an hour? For me? I want to make sure you’re not starving yourself again.”

Lena sighed. The teasing was replaced with a genuine concern, now. Lena had admitted to Kara that she lost five the last time she got caught up in something for three weeks. Of everyone she mentioned it to, Kara was the only one who didn’t congratulate her. She worried, she fussed, and she fed Lena that night.

“Okay,” said Lena. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten, does that sound…”

“I’m already here.”

Kara then opened the door and walked in, smirking. Lena’s breath caught when she saw her. Kara had her hair in an elaborate braid and was dressed for the blistering summer heat in a green sun dress and sandals. Joy sparkled in her blue eyes and she smiled wide.

“We could get delivery,” said Lena.

“Nope! Fresh air! It’s good for you!”

Lena sighed and allowed herself to be bundle outside, throwing on a hat and sunglasses. Since she was in the office on a Saturday and had let herself in, she had dressed casually and the heat was tolerable while they walked.

They spent the trip in companionable silence. Kara walked close to her, a presence just to Lena’s right that seemed to electrify the air, like something pulling between them.

Lena noticed things. Like how Kara always walked between her and the road, and how the way her arms would swing always seemed to leave Kara’s pinky brushing the outside of Lena’s hand. Sometimes she’d mumble an apology. Sometimes not. Sometimes Lena would feel the tender touch, and find Kara looking at her oddly, a soft wistful smile on her face that made Lena melt.

Sometimes she thought about catching her hand. Sometimes she thought about stopping and meeting that look, gently asking what Kara was so intent about. She never did, because as much as she enjoyed that fluttering feeling in her belly, she was certain Kara was straight.

It was like an ache she just couldn’t stop, dull and pulsing at the back of her mind. One soft brush of Kara’s lips on her own would be more than-

“Hey,” Kara said. “You’re a million miles away.”

“Oh,” Lena murmured, realizing that she’d been staring this time. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking about work.”

There was a nearly imperceptible flash of concern and sadness on Kara’s face, the tiniest hint of a frown that made Lena want to cup her cheek and whisper an apology, but didn’t.

“This is it,” said Kara. “Try to relax, alright?”

Lena sighed her best promise and followed Kara in to a quaint little lunch spot with air conditioning and big ceiling fans mounted high overhead, and they took their seats.

Kara ordered for her -you need protein, Lena!- and she spent the next forty-five minutes picking at a turkey wrap and listening to Kara chatter excitedly about gossip and work and who was dating who at CatCo and a big story she was working on. Lena knew she had a lopsided smile on her face and was nodding along, as much for the delight of Kara’s excitement. She did little voices when she imitated her coworkers and got animated when talking about her story.

Lena barely said a word.

“You’re quiet,” Kara finally said.

I’m in love with you, Lena thought.

“I’m just tired. I was listening. You think Elliot is dating… Katie?”

Kara smirked at her.

“I wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard. There’s more to life than work.”

Kara rested her hand atop Lena’s, and Lena felt her heart flip in her chest.

“I know. I’m sorry I’ve been distant, this project just means a lot to me.”

“Let’s get you back before the building burns down,” said Kara.

Lena felt a little guilty as they walked into the bar to pay the bill. For some reason, Lena felt a little thrill when Kara insisted on paying, and the host looked at Lena and then smirked at Kara.

They turned, snd a man stepped up to Lena.

“Luthor!” he shouted. “You ruined my fucking life!”

Lena froze, wide-eyed, about to ask what she did. The man raised the gun he had hidden in the pocket of his sweatshirt and fired. The sound was incredible, stabbing at her ear drums and filling the world with a dull ringing. She stumbled back into the bar.

Kara’s fist was clenched in front of her chest, her eyes wide and expression wild. Kara snapped her attention to the gunman, who fired again.

She stepped between the gun and Lena. Five more shots went off and seemed to rumple her dress with tiny bursts of wind, but then Lena saw the bullets had torn the fabric before they tumbled to the floor.

Kara swept her hand and yanked the gun out of his hand, and it fell to the floor in a crumpled mass, sliding along the tiles.

She changed. It was as if she grew taller, wider, expression hardening. She grabbed the attacker by his collar and hauled him off the floor with one hand, and Lena felt a pang of fear as fire literally blazed in her eyes.

When she put a hand on Kara’s shoulder, the muscles were coiled like steel cables.

“Don’t” she caught herself whispering.

Kara threw him. He slid across the floor and thumped against the wall, and she strode over and planted her foot on his chest, easily pinning him. He stared up at her in naked shock.

Kara touched her ear. “Alex, get to my location asap. Someone just tried to kill Lena. We need a cleanup.”

Lena stared at her.

It wasn’t five minutes before her sister, in full tactical gear, led a team of armed agents into the cafe and bundled up Lena’s assailant, dragging him away. They took the crumpled gun and the fallen bullets and began talking to the other patrons and staff.

Lena started to shake.

Kara focused on her instantly and led her outside, where “FBI” vans were waiting. Kara stepped into one and in half a second, without seeming to break stride, stepped back into view in full Supergirl regalia.

Lena almost fell. He knees went wobbly and she slumped, right into Kara’s arms. Kara scooped her up in a single fluid motion and lifted off as Lena took a death grip on the collar of her suit and buried her face in Kara’s neck.

Moments later they lighted on Lena’s balcony. Kara pushed the door aside, ignoring the very expensive lock that popped off as she did, and carried her inside.

Bolting, Lena ran to the bathroom. Her entire body had gone cold, like she’d been dunked in ice water. She sagged to her knees and grabbed the toilet, retching.

Kara was there. A soft, reassuring hand rubbed her back while the other tenderly and expertly gathered her hair. Lena couldn’t help it; she struggled to hold on her lunch, shaking, screaming between retches.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you.”

“He almost killed me,” Lena choked out. “If you weren’t there I’d be dead.”

Kara sat down, and pulled Lena into her lap, rocking her softly until the shaking subsided before standing up, easily carrying her out of the room.

A glass of water helped. Kara was attentive, gently, softly encouraging while the adrenaline shakes ravaged Lena.

Kara was Supergirl. It seemed weirdly obvious to her now. She looked up and realized that Kara hadn’t unbraided her hair, and the effect was disconcerting. Kara took Lena in her arms again, hugging her tight.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you, you’re safe now.”

Lena took in a deep breath, drinking her scent as Kara rubbed her back and did the same, burying her face in Lena’s hair.

“You’re going to be okay,” Kara murmured, “it’s alright.”

“I’m so tired of this,” Lena whimpered. “What did I do? Why did he want to hurt me?”

“You don’t deserve to live this way,” said Kara.

“Oh God,” said Lena. “I have to… the acquisition, my work…”

Kara seized her head in her hands, firmly yet gently, cupping Lena’s cheeks in her palms. Kara stared at her with shocking intensity, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Fuck your work,” Kara almost shouted. “I care about you. You, Lena! You’re more than… you… I…”

Lena stared back at her, in shock at the intensity in her voice, even moreso than the out of character f-bomb. Kara was still holding her, looking at her with such fullness of feeling, biting her lip and struggling to hold back tears and failing, that Lena couldn’t stop herself. She lunged, diving into Kara, hugging her.

Lena hugged Kara, but Kara was the one to kiss her first. Their lips met in a nearly painful crash, Kara diving into her like she might never see her again.

Oh.

It was a wild sensation, this adrenaline shock combined with the feeling of Kara’s powerful arms wrapped around her, fingers that could crush diamonds gripping her hip and the back of her neck, the way Kara stood tall over her and her boots thumped on the floor when she took a step.

“You mean everything to me.”

Lena sucked in a breath and swallowed a sob.

Oh.

“Don’t leave,” Lena chirped out. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t. I won’t.”

Lena finally felt herself slowing down, but it left her drained, barely able to stand. She slumped against Kara and stayed there, clinging to her.

“I’m going to change,” Kara murmured. “Easy.”

She lowered Lena onto the sofa and she curled in the corner, huddled in a ball.

Then Kara reached to her shoulders unclasped one side of her cape, then the other. With a flourish she swung it wide and swept it over Lena as a blanket.

“Stay right here.”

She wasn’t gone long. In mere moments she was there in a t-shirt and shorts, wrapping herself around Lena.

It took hours for Lena to finally calm down, and by then she’d fallen asleep on Kara’s shoulder. When she woke up, Kara was teasing her fingers along Lena’s scalp and singing softly. It took a moment for Lena to realize that the clipped, rhythmic language had to be Kryptonian.

“Are you okay?”

Lena nodded.

“It was different this time. People have tried to kill me before but… it was different. He was just some guy in a cafe.”

“Lena,” Kara murmured, “look at me.”

Lena looked up, meeting Kara’s soft, intent gaze.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Lena’s heart swelled. It felt so real, so true. Kara meant it, every bit of it, from the depths of her being. Lena tucked in closer to her and sighed on her shoulder.

“Work can wait until Monday,” Lena whispered.

“Tuesday,” Kara corrected.

“Can you stay tonight?” said Lena. “Just to sleep,” she added.

“Of course.”

They were silent to a while.

“Lena?”

“Yeah.”

“About earlier, if I… overstepped, I’m sorry. It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

Lena sucked in a sharp breath.

“It means everything.”

“Oh,” said Kara.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #identitity reveal #requited crushes #Lena doesn’t always just get over it when this shit happens #protective Kara #softcorp

501 notes · View notes

niningtori · 2 months

Text

mastermind | oneshot

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: you should be used to your relationships failing by now, but after finding out your boyfriend, yeonjun, cheated on you, you're devastated yet again. and beomgyu, your best friend, is there to pick up the pieces, just like always. but isn't it a little odd that things just never seem to work out?

genre: romance, angst, smut (MDNI), yandere

warnings: YANDERE!GYU, manipulation, gaslighting, SMUT (MDNI!) creampie, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, dirty talk, degradation, if i missed anything pls lmk!

word count: 5.1k

notes: ... hi. i'm reposting this with major edits but i hope you all still like it!

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do you love your boyfriend? of course. do you trust him? of course. so are you surprised to see a photo of him very clearly making out with another woman? well, of course.

your friends, your family, and even passersby would simply tell you you shouldn’t be, though. yeonjun used to be very well known for his sexual escapades, so when you announced he was your boyfriend, nobody was particularly happy for you. especially not your best friend in the whole world, beomgyu.

“he’s just gonna hurt you, just like the last one!”

you remember flinching at this. you remember how hurt and indignant you felt at the time. you also remember the silent treatment you gave him, and the cold war that began shortly thereafter. he apologized afterwards, of course, but you had asked him what was so bad about you that he couldn’t just believe that yeonjun had changed for you. he was silent at this, which only made you even angrier. it was all pointless in the end, you suppose.

as you sit on beomgyu’s couch, your phone rings again. you have a special ringtone for yeonjun, so you don’t even bother to check the caller id before you silence it. he’s been calling you incessantly since you texted him that you saw the picture and were done with him. your face is downcast and if you weren't so consumed by your sadness, you'd notice the faint look of delight in beomgyu’s eyes.

“i think you should just block him,” he says as nonchalantly as he can muster. maybe in another state of mind, you'd register the satisfaction in his tone, but right now? all you can sense is his urgency, which can easily be explained away by selfless and sincere concern. just how he likes it.

“you’re right,” you sigh. “i guess i just don’t understand. things were going so well, and then he goes and does this to me. i don’t know what i did wrong,” you say while burying your face in your hands. he almost can’t control the way his lips want to curl up at this, but he’s become nothing if not a master of containing his true emotions. he’s kept them from your prying eyes for years, after all.

“aww, baby. it’s not you, it’s him. he’s just not the right guy for you,” he coos, but for some reason, you can’t help but be annoyed at his kindness.

“i know you want to say i told you so, so say it,” you snap, pulling your face from your hands and scowling at him.

“i don’t want —”

“if you wanted me to learn my lesson, i’ve learned it, alright? i don't need to be taught again,” you say with a huff. you know you’re being unreasonable. you know you’re being a bitch, but you just can’t help it. who told beomgyu to be right about your potential partners all the damn time? fuck his crazy-accurate intuition.

he looks genuinely hurt by your harsh words, though, so you can’t help but feel a wave of regret wash over you. you’re drowning in it, even, as you watch his puppy eyes gloss over.

“beomie, baby, i’m so sorry,” you say, gently grabbing his face with one hand and pushing his long hair behind his ear with the other. “i know i’m being awful to you when you’re just trying to help.”

“it’s okay,” he says solemnly, looking like a kicked puppy. “as long as you’re sorry.” somehow, his easy acceptance of your apology makes you feel even worse. you pull him in for a hug and he buries his face in your neck to a) soak up your scent and b) hide his growing smirk. but you’re too caught up in your feelings to notice.

“it’s really okay,” he assures once you part.

“no, it isn’t. i’m being a shitty friend. how about you stay over tonight? we can watch a movie and i’ll order something for us to eat,” you suggest. he graciously accepts your peace offering and the night is spent with giggles and an overt amount of cuddling.

as you’re drifting off to sleep, you feel beomgyu plant a kiss on your forehead. to anyone else, this might come across as oddly intimate, but you know better. people have said that you two would make a good couple, but you two do nothing but laugh it off every time. they just don’t understand your dynamic. he’s a man like any other, you guess, but seeing him as anything other than a friend is simply laughable. you know he feels the same exact way about you, too, which is why you are unfazed by his next words.

“i love you. it’s just — i just love you so much, you know?” he whispers.

“aww, beomie. you know i love you, too. you’re my best friend in the whole world,” you murmur as sleep finally overcomes you.

if the lights were on, you’d see how his face falls and contorts into something like a grimace.

yeonjun has been spamming you like crazy, so you listen to beomgyu and block his number as well as his social media accounts. you think this whole chapter of your life is over, but, as always, you are wrong.

a week or so after your messy breakup, a sudden knock at your door pulls your attention away from mindless scrolling on your phone. you don't think much of it — it’s probably just beomgyu with some takeout, or something. however, when you look through the peephole, you realize that yeonjun is not finished bothering you just yet.

“baby, please. i know you’re there. please, just open up. i’ll explain everything!” he pleads. you’re not particularly known for your callousness of heart, so it doesn’t take much more begging for you to feel guilty and let him in. you open your door with a sigh.

“thank you!” yeonjun says with a look of pure relief as he hurriedly enters your apartment. he takes a seat on your couch (unprompted, you might add) and takes a shaky breath. you cautiously seat yourself on the other end of the couch and prepare to listen to whatever bullshit he has conjured up for your viewing pleasure before you decide that it’s best just to cut to the chase. ripping the band-aid off, and all that.

“look, i don’t care that you’re sorry. there’s nothing you can say to make me change my —”

“it was beomgyu!” he exclaims before you can get another word out.

“... what?” you ask confusedly. where the hell is he going with this?

“the girl, the picture, fucking everything was all his fucking fault. he did it,” he rants. oh. he must think you’re fucking stupid.

“yeonjun, please don’t waste my time,” you sigh. “i think you should leave,” you add, getting up from your seat.

“wait!” he pleads, reaching for your hand and gently pulling you back down. “remember how i always told you that i had a weird feeling about him? like how something always felt… off?” oh well. if he wants to continue putting on a show, then so be it. besides, it’ll be a funny story to tell beomgyu later on.

you nod.

“well, he always looked at me weirdly. like, whenever i’d walk into the room, there was always this… this tension and i never knew why, but i understood it as soon as we made things official. it’s because he likes you.” you’re silent for a moment and yeonjun actually thinks he’s getting through to you before you burst into near-maniacal laughter. his face falls.

“beomgyu? beomgyu likes me?” you say between giggles. beomgyu loves you like a sister. no way in hell does he harbor a shred of romantic love for you.

“you’re not listening,” he grunts, slightly tugging at his own hair in frustration. “he’s always been weird, and the other night at the bar, he introduced me to that girl you saw me ‘kissing’. they kept giving me drinks until i could barely fucking see straight. then she kept coming onto me, but i said no. i finally told her to kick rocks, but the next thing i knew was that she was kissing me. i know it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me.” you want to dismiss everything he’s saying, but his utter sincerity seems to strike a chord within you. you can’t say you believe him, but he continues before you can properly digest his words.

“think about it. why the hell would i cheat in such a public place where all of our friends hang out? don't you think i would be smarter than that? and even if i wasn't, you know me. you know i would never cheat on you.” he seems desperate now, but it’s still hard to believe that beomgyu orchestrated this entire thing instead of the very real possibility that yeonjun just got drunk and acted recklessly.

“alright, this isn’t funny anymore. you need to stop,” you warn, not liking how much he’s making sense.

“think,” he repeats with conviction.

so you do. you think back to all of the tumultuous relationships you’ve had until now. they've all ended in different ways, yes, but they all had one common denominator: beomgyu. oh, beomgyu saw your boyfriend getting cozy with his ex. you’re having an argument with your boyfriend? beomgyu thinks he’s a piece of shit because of how he treats you, you obviously deserve better! wait, your boyfriend keeps taking too long to text you back? he’s just losing interest! it’s clearly better to break it off now rather than getting too invested when you’re inevitably going to break up, anyway. and all the other greatest hits. your face twists from focused to horrified as the realization sinks into your bones. it's beomgyu. it’s always been beomgyu.

you look to yeonjun with pure shock in your eyes and he meets your gaze with a look of sympathy. you finally get it.

“junie, i’m so sorry,” you say, tears springing into your eyes. “i’m so sorry i doubted you.”

“it’s okay,” he replies with a melancholy smile. “he manipulated you.”

“does… does that mean we’re back together now?” you ask, voice tinged with hope. his smile falters at your question, and you feel a sense of dread.

“i need some time,” he says after a pause, dropping his hand from yours. “you really hurt me. i understand that beomgyu manipulated you, but it really hurts that you didn't trust me, you know?”

“i understand,” you quietly reply. you’d be hurt if the tables were turned — it’s only natural. you just hope to god above that you haven’t let beomgyu ruin another good thing for you.

beomgyu is confused as to why you’ve been ignoring him for the better part of a week. you don’t respond when he texts or calls, and his intuition is telling him that it has something to do with yeonjun. maybe you’re just shutting down because of the breakup? it was particularly brutal this time around, after all. he’s lucky that yeonjun has such a lascivious sexual history, or else you might not have bought his little charade, even with the proof presented directly in front of you. that’s how much you love(d) yeonjun. the thought causes jealousy to rear its ugly head in his stomach, but whatever. there’s no way you’re going back to him after the way the scandal has made its way through your social life. even if you do want to get back together with him, there's no way your pride will let you. your pride has been a particularly nasty sort of obstacle in beomgyu’s pursuit of you, but it’s absolutely delicious to be able to use it against you like this. serves you fucking right.

still, it’s his job as your dutiful best friend to cheer you up. with this in mind, he picks up your favorite takeout and heads to your place. he smiles when he imagines the way you’ll gratefully embrace him once you realize that he’s here for you. maybe this time you’ll understand that he’s always been the one who’s there for you when someone hurts you. maybe this time will be his big break, finally freeing him from the purgatory he has been in for god knows how long.

he knocks on your door with a hopeful smile on his face. surprisingly, you’re swinging the door open mere seconds later with your eyes similarly lit up with hope.

“yeon— oh. it’s you,” you say, deflating immediately. there’s a certain sense of resentment in your tone that he catches onto, but he chalks it up to disappointment. his face falls. goddamn it. damn it all to hell.

“i brought you some food to cheer you up,” he says while shaking the plastic takeout bag, completely ignoring the slip of another man’s name.

he invites himself in, slipping off his shoes and sitting down on the couch as he usually does.

he waits for you to join him, but when he looks up at you, all he sees is you staring at him, arms crossed and face contorted in anger. surely you can’t be that upset that he’s not yeonjun, right? now that he thinks about it, why would you be expecting yeonjun, anyway? hadn’t you effectively cut him off? did you talk to him and take him back after all that (you think) he’s done? that can’t be right. unless… unless you actually let him talk to you. oh god, please tell him that’s not what happened.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, face devoid of anything deeper than curiosity and worry.

you’re silent for a moment before you carefully choose your next words.

“i talked to yeonjun,” you reply, and his heart sinks to his stomach. “he told me some… interesting things.”

beomgyu hopes you don’t notice how hard he gulps. you do not.

“what did he say?” he asks, face tense but still showing no clear signs of guilt.

“he told me what happened that night. he told me how you got him drunk and basically forced that girl onto him. he also said that you’re the reason none of my relationships work out,” you declare, opting to stop beating around the bush and just get some answers. you study his face for a crack of some sort, but there is none.

“and what do you think?” he asks quietly.

“i think… i think he might be telling the truth,” is what you say, but you’re sounding increasingly unsure with every word because beomgyu looks more hurt than you’ve ever seen him.

“you believe him over me?” he asks, voice cracking and lips trembling with his brown eyes glossed over in what you can only describe as devastation. god, either beomgyu’s a really good actor, yeonjun’s a really good actor, or you’re just fucking stupid.

“i… i don’t know what to think, beomgyu,” you whisper after a pause. all he does is nod before his next words pierce your heart.

“is that why you’ve been ignoring me?”

jesus christ. you were so sure that yeonjun was telling the truth when he told you about beomgyu, so ignoring him only seemed natural under the circumstances, but he looks every bit like the victim in light of your accusations. his trembling lips and wounded gaze make you want to strangle yourself for ever doubting him. as you feel yourself being consumed with remorse, though, you remember the sincerity and desperation in yeonjun’s words. maybe this was all a huge misunderstanding? maybe they’re both convinced that they’re right?

“y-yes. i’m sorry. i was just confused. maybe he just misunderstood?” you babble. he likes your hesitancy, but it’s still wearing on his patience. as much as he wants to say he can’t believe that you’d question him because of some guy you dated, he can believe it when it comes to you. you always, always, always hurt him like this, and he’s had just about enough.

“and what if it’s true?” he asks, pathetic facade wiped clean off of his face while something more somber replaces it entirely. your eyes lock with his and you’re stunned silly.

“what?” is all you can manage to reply with.

“what if i pushed that girl onto yeonjun? what if i ruined all of your relationships? what would you do?”

“so it’s true?!” is all you can say, guilt flaring into sheer rage and hurt.

“so what if it is?” he asks, as if he doesn’t comprehend how twisted this is.

“so… so how could you do that to me?!”

“i was only doing what’s best for you,” he impatiently replies. “they were only gonna hurt you, can’t you see that? even before i did anything, there were still all those men who cheated on you, lied to you, used you. what’s wrong with wanting to protect you from people like them? i just couldn’t stand to see you living like that!” he argues, clearly believing he’s completely justified in all of this.

sure, you’ve been hurt before even without his intervention, but that doesn’t mean he can just play puppeteer in your love life to “protect” you from anything similar happening ever again. you trusted him and he manipulated you. he acted like a knight in shining armor this entire time while knowingly sabotaging any potentially good thing that could come your way. and he did it all because he wants to protect you? bullshit.

“you know, i thought that even if everyone other man in the world could hurt me, you never would,” you say shakily, either from sadness or anger. maybe both. “i guess i was wrong.”

“hurt you?! hurt is watching the person you love fuck other people over and over and over again! hurt is watching you laugh me off and never even fucking considering me as an option, goddamn it!” he yells while slamming his hand on your coffee table.

“so your solution was to fuck up every relationship i have just to have me to yourself?! do you not realize how fucked up that is?!” you yell back, trying to appear unfazed by his increasingly enraged behavior. he seems to falter at this, genuinely at a loss for words at your unforgiving pinpointing of his erratic actions. the desperate, eager-to-please beomgyu you know all too well is finally back and you feel your confidence surge because of it.

“i only did that because —”

“why? because you love me? or think you do?” you mock with a hollow laugh. “you don’t purposely ruin the life of someone you love.” he looks genuinely wounded by your words.

“but i —”

“i don’t care. get out,” you say mercilessly. you’re absolutely through with listening to his fucked up ideations about love and what his twisted moral compass deems as justified because of it. you’re so preoccupied with preaching on your soapbox, you don’t even realize his attitude has once again shifted from the compliant beomgyu to the one you don’t recognize at all.

“... no,” he says flatly.

“did you not fucking hear me? i said get out,” you repeat through clenched teeth. normally, your raised hackles would be enough to scare him off, so you figure he’ll tuck his tail and leave right about now. oh, how wrong you are.

“are you deaf?” he asks with a sneer. “i said no.”

“what do you mean, no?” you ask. somewhere in the depths of your mind, alarm bells begin ringing, but it’s far too late to heed them. plus, you’re still under the impression that he’ll bend to your will.

“oh, so you’re not deaf. just stupid,” he snorts. your jaw is agape at his audacity. beomgyu has caught an attitude and gotten fresh with you before, sure, but nothing like this. to say you’re dumbstruck would be to put things in the mildest of terms. you can barely get out your next sentence.

“w-what do you mean?”

“i’m not leaving this apartment,” he says firmly, and before you can even ask him to explain, he’s dragging you away with a painful grip.

“ow! beomgyu, you’re hurting m—”

“shut up. i told you what real hurt is, but you're not fucking listening. i don't want to hear another word come out of your mouth,” he says in a monotone voice. if the alarm bells were ringing in the depths of your mind before, they’re absolutely blaring at the forefront of your brain right now.

“what are y-you —”

“i thought i told you to shut up,” he snaps before roughly grabbing your face and planting his lips on yours. the kiss is crude. it’s absolutely vulgar with the way it’s all tongue and teeth and saliva, but after a few seconds of uncertainty, you find yourself melting into it. this is wrong. you two are the best of friends, almost like brother and sister. and more than that, you love yeonjun, right? you’re supposed to be working on getting back together with him, aren’t you? but your reason starts to be sucked away as you feel his hands caress your body, leaving nothing but fire in their wake.

you don’t know how you got here, almost completely naked as you lay on your back while beomgyu continues attacking your lips. it’s blazing hot and you can’t help but feel your underwear becoming wet with every moan that escapes his mouth and consequently reverberates onto your tongue. as if he already knows the intricacies of your internal battle, one of his hands finds its way to your now soaking wet pussy and he uses his index and middle fingers to spread the slickness around. he swirls his fingers around your hole and just barely pushes one of them into the entrance. you gasp at the shallow intrusion and you can feel his notorious shit-eating grin pressed across your lips as he feels how tight you are. you’re ridiculously turned on and he knows it. he pauses his actions only to unzip his pants and yank them down to his knees. your eyes widen at what you can only describe as his huge appendage, all reddened and already leaking. you feel your cunt throbbing with even more need at the sight, but your last shred of reason still makes you hesitate.

“beomgyu, we can't… we're friends, and yeonjun is —”

“can’t you just let me make you feel good? god, you’re making this so difficult, but what the fuck else is new,” he growls.

he's right. you are making things difficult. there's no way of salvaging your friendship after this, so what's the point in holding back now? you realize that while he may be absolutely unhinged, his feelings for you are real. do you reciprocate them? you don’t know yet, but the thought of him doting on another person the same way he dotes on you makes you feel uneasy. as for yeonjun? well, he deserves better than the cesspool of turbulent emotions that you currently find yourself in.

“you still sure you don’t want me?” he asks cockily. you, with all of your pride, can only muster up a feeble shake of your head. he knew the answer before you gave it to him, but his condescending gaze shows you that your words have scratched a certain itch of his.

he rubs his hardened length against your folds and it’s all you can do to resist locking your ankles around his waist and pulling him into you, but something stops you. protection. you don’t even have to say it, because he knows you too well for your own good.

“let me fuck you raw,” he says breathily, just barely poking his length into your tight hole. “i know you need it, baby. just let me take care of you.” you’re silent for a moment before pinching out your next words.

“p-pull out?” he won’t because he knows you’ll be begging him for his cum when he’s done with you, and you already know he won’t, even when he nods and promises he will. you don't know why you even asked.

the ache you feel to have him buried inside you is quickly replaced by the ache you feel once he begins to stretch you out. it’s a stinging, burning sort of pain, but that’s nothing in comparison to the pure pleasure you feel as his flared tip drags along your walls. he begins with thrusting shallowly, fucking you open like you’re a virgin, and you’re so tight while he’s so big, you might as well be.

painfully slowly, he pushes each and every inch of himself into your gummy hole. he reaches places you didn’t even know existed and stretches you open so good all you have the brainpower to call the sensation is fullness. overwhelming fullness. when he finally sheathes himself in you completely, a strangled cry leaves both of your throats as you feel him throbbing inside of you and he, in turn, feels you pulsating around him.

after you adjust, you expect him to start drilling into you with reckless abandon, but he does nothing of the sort. just watches you with a strange look on his face.

“b-beomie? what are you doing?” you ask pathetically, head raising up from its place on the pillows to meet his wanton gaze.

“beg me for it.”

“beg for w—” your question is interrupted by a sharp smack on your sensitive pussy.

“beg me for it. beg me to fuck you like a whore. i won’t tell you again,” he says menacingly. your bleary eyes are so confused, so stupid, and so, so cute, but he’s determined to use the last of his self-control to get you to feel even a fraction of the desperation he’s felt for years. well, even if you don’t, he’ll spend the whole night fucking you dumb until you do. but you’re so hungry for his dick, you don’t even realize that he’s bluffing.

finally, you understand what he’s asking of you, and you waste no time to comply.

“n-need your cock, beomie. need you to make me f-feel good,” you say, trying to retain even a semblance of your dignity. this brings a mean smirk to his face, but he’s not done with you, yet.

“surely you can do better than that?” he taunts, rocking his hips ever so slightly so you can feel every inch of his length and girth teasingly hitting your cervix, but providing no relief. fuck your dignity. you need him.

“please! please, i need you! need your cock to fill me up!” you whine.

“mhmm, and?”

“need you to fuck me! need you to fill me up with your cum!” well, there goes your resolve to have him pull out. this seems to satisfy his sadistic desires.

“oh, my love. all you had to do was ask,” he says with a grin. and that’s when he starts.

his hips meet yours in the most punishing way, and that’s what this is: a punishment for the way you’ve treated him all these years. you can feel it in the way that his fingernails dig into your skin and in the way that he mercilessly presses down on your tummy until all you can feel is pressure building up to something unknown.

“who else can fuck you like this? who else can split you open like this?” he asks as lewd squelches reverberate throughout the room.

“n-nobody! only you, beomie!” you cry.

“that’s my good girl, such a good girl. baby just needs me to use her like a fucktoy, right?” and all you can do is whine and clench in carnal need as the poor springs of your bed squeak with every unforgiving thrust.

“oh, you like that, don’t you?” he snickers. “you like being my little whore. you’re just a toy for me, alright? free to use whenever i feel like it.” you nod in agreement and he lets out a chuckle as he pounds into you at an unimaginable speed, balls slapping your ass with every fiery thrust. each time he pumps into you, your pussy’s clamping down on him and sucking him in like that’s where he’s meant to be. and maybe it is.

“god, i’m close,” he groans after pumping into you for what feels like hours, and you whimper like a bitch in heat. “honey, don’t worry,” he tuts. “i’ll fuck you every day, i’ll fill you with my cum so you can’t leave. not that you’ll want to after this. you’re made for me, made to be my cumdump whenever i want.”

“y-yes!” you shriek, somehow liking the idea of being full of his cum forever and ever.

“that’s my girl. baby just wants me to fuck her good. that’s all you needed, right? that’s why you’ve been such a brat. you just needed me to show you what it’s like to be fucked right,” he says, rolling your clit for good measure, which is enough to make you reach your high as it comes crashing down around you. beomgyu wasn’t lying when he said he was close, so when he feels you clenching around his big cock as if you’re milking him for all that he’s worth, you feel it twitching before hot bursts of cum paint your inner walls until you’re leaking white and seeing stars. he continues with slow, lazy pumps until he softens. you stay like that for an indeterminable amount of time, breathing raggedly while your bodies are overcome with thrums of delight.

when he finally pulls out and lays down beside you, bodies slick with sheens of sweat, he pushes your hair back behind your ear and plants a kiss on your temple. shakily, he takes his hand and rubs it along your distended tummy, full of his cum. he lovingly strokes it with an awed smile on his face.

“such a good girl for me,” he repeats. “i can’t wait until you’re pregnant. you’ll have as many babies as i can give you, right?” and all you can do is nod deliriously. he smiles in satisfaction as you eagerly agree to his every nasty, perverted thought. “god, i love you so much. and you love me too, right? say it. say you love me.”

“i love you.” and you realize that you do. this man is deranged, but he’s yours, and for better or for worse, you're his. especially now that you might very well be carrying his children. and even if you aren’t, you know he’ll make good on his promises to keep fucking you until you are. should you be glad that he effectively ruined every potential relationship for you? you were unsure before, but you realize that nobody has or ever will love you as much as he does, even if he has a demented way of showing it. well, it is what it is. there’s no way out after this.

notes pt. 2: i hope this goes over better after the editing!

taglist: @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @midwinterblizzard @everythingvirgoes @sooberryworld @20-cms @inkigayocamman @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @blossommi @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @binniebakery @notevenheretbh1

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#niningtori #mastermind #beomgyu smut #txt smut #yandere beomgyu #yandere txt #beomgyu hard thoughts #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu angst #txt angst #beomgyu hard hours #txt hard hours #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #beomgyu fic #txt fic #nini's hard hours #mdni

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suguae · 4 months

Text

'cause it was always you..

જpairings. G. Satoru x F. Reader

“I do ballet, I’m a ballerina.”

Satoru smiled in amusement. "I honestly would've never thought," he said, his tone light and teasing. "It's like I learn more about you each day." He chuckled as your face turned red.

"Do you have any performances coming up soon? I would love to see you dance in person." His tall body hovered over you, his head tilting as he waited for your answer."Y—yeah, um, in two weeks, I think." You scratched your head slightly, trying to remember.

He chuckled once more before playfully rubbing your head. "Cute," he mumbled, his smile lingering on his face. "Let me know the time and date. I'll see you around."

"I cannot tell you how important it is that you must focus, y/n," Your instructor muttered. "This is a very complex piece. Don't make me regret choosing you for this important role."

Her words felt like a slap to the face. "Yes, ma'am," you muttered before getting back into position. As the music started playing, you moved gracefully. With every move, her face showed satisfaction, but you knew she wanted more than just satisfaction.

"That's your lunch?" Satoru asked, his eyebrows lifting as he examined the small portion of salad and a bottle of water sitting in front of you. His gaze shifted to meet yours, his blue eyes curious and concerned. "Oh, hi Satoru..." you mumbled nervously, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks as he took a seat right in front of you.

"Here, we can share my lunch," he offered with a warm smile, reaching into his bag to pull out a beautifully crafted bento box filled with an array of tempting dishes.

Your stomach grumbled at the sight and aroma of the food, but you shook your head slightly. "Oh, it's no worries. I have to be on a strict diet for this upcoming performance," you replied, forcing a smile despite the longing in your eyes for a taste of his lunch.

Satoru looked around before flashing a mischievous smile. "Well, who's gonna know?" he whispered, his tone playful and conspiratorial.

"Oh, believe me, she'll find out one way or another," you replied awkwardly, chuckling nervously. He playfully rolled his eyes at your response. "Anyway, are you busy tonight?" he asked, changing the subject smoothly.

You nodded in confirmation. "I have rehearsals,"

He leaned in slightly, his blue eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "From what time?" he inquired softly, his tone laced with curiosity.

You looked up, unaware of his intention, and replied, "From 3 to 9..." Confusion tinged your voice as you tried to decipher the meaning behind his question.

"You're overworking yourself for this piece, huh?" Satoru remarked, his voice gentle with concern. "You need to be careful; I don't want you hurting yourself." He leaned back slightly, throwing you a reassuring smile. You couldn't help but blush at the thought of his genuine concern and care for you. It warmed your heart to know that he was looking out for you.

"But after, we should watch a movie at the cinema. I know it'll be late but..." He trailed off, leaving the invitation hanging in the air. "Yeah, um... I mean, yeah, if you want," you quickly replied, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with nervousness at the prospect of spending more time with him outside of school.

Just the other day, you two had started talking, and you were still surprised when he first came up to you. His dazzling blue eyes charmed you in an instant, but even before that, you had always watched him from a distance. Never would you have expected this turn of events, where you were not just talking, but making plans to spend time together outside of your usual interactions.

"Perfect," he whispered softly, watching you silently enjoy your sad meal. "After your recital, we are gonna go out and eat so much food," he partially joked, his tone light but sincere. "Because I know you deserve it, because you're gonna do amazing," he reassured you, his words causing your cheeks to flush with warmth at his confession.

"Better, I love the improvement. Keep your moves sharp yet graceful," she instructed as you danced with your partner. Her words spurred you on, pushing you to embody the precise balance between sharpness and grace in your movements.

"And more emotion!" she yelled, her eyes fixed on you like a fox with its prey. Her demand for greater emotional expression pushed you to delve deeper into the performance, infusing each movement with raw emotion.

After hours of rehearsing, you found yourself standing a little under her gaze. "Not only is this performance important to the school, but to you as well," she remarked, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and concern. "You've improved, but you have got to show more emotion," she sighed, her words weighing heavily on your shoulders.

"I thought you were gonna ditch on me," Satoru said, smiling as you met him in the cinema."I would never do that," you replied with a smile, playfully poking his arm.

"Did I forget to mention, it's a scary movie," Satoru chuckled, noticing the quick head turn as you gulped in fear. "Relax, you can always hold onto me whenever you get scared," he teased, a playful glint in his eyes as he offered you comfort in the face of the impending fright.

"N-no, I can handle it," you said, trying to sound brave, but your face betrayed the exact opposite. Despite your attempt to mask your fear, Satoru could see right through it, his smile softening.

"Let's go, or we'll miss the beginning," Satoru suggested, his hands softly holding onto yours, catching you by surprise. The unexpected touch sent a jolt of warmth through you, and you followed him into the theater,

There you sat, side by side with the boy you've always had eyes for. His perfect face watching the gory movie with a smile on his face, seemingly unfazed by the horror unfolding on the screen. But rather than watching the movie, you found yourself watching him, mesmerized by the way his features softened with amusement.

Your heart pounded intensely in your chest as you stole glances at him, unable to tear your gaze away. When you looked down, you realized your hands were still interlocked, his warm touch sending shivers down your spine. In that moment, the fear of the movie was overshadowed by the thrill of being so close to him.

His head turned as he met your gaze, and you quickly turned away in embarrassment, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. You could hear his soft chuckle, the sound sending a flutter of nerves through you.

His hand unlocked from yours, and he brought it up to your cheek, gently turning your face to look at him. Your faces were mere centimeters apart now, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as your heart raced.

"Kiss me," he whispered, his breath warm against your lips as he leaned in even closer. And there you were, lost in a mini makeout session. His lips were like cherries—sweet and red—as they moved against yours with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

He smiled as you two stood outside the cinema, the evening breeze cooling your flushed cheeks. "I like you, y/n," he confessed softly, his words sending a warm thrill through you.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, placing one last peck on your lips, the gentle touch lingering for a moment before he pulled away. "And I had a lot of fun tonight," he added with a grin, his eyes sparkling with genuine joy.

"M-me too," you stammered, feeling a rush of gratitude and nervousness flood through you. "Thank you for tonight." You glanced down, unable to meet his gaze, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, grateful for the unexpected turn of events and the wonderful memories you had created together.

Despite the magical night you shared at the cinema, the next day at school feels like a stark contrast. Satoru's sudden avoidance leaves you bewildered and hurt. Every time you pass by him in the school halls, he seems to purposely avert his gaze, as if trying to pretend you don't exist.

At first, you wonder if it's just a misunderstanding, if perhaps he's dealing with something personal or caught up in his own thoughts. But as the days go by and his behavior remains unchanged, doubts begin to gnaw at you.

As you walked past an empty classroom, you overheard snippets of conversation that made your heart sink. "That was gonna be easier than I thought,'' one of Satoru's friends joked, followed by another chiming in, "Yeah, no kidding, she waited no time."

You stopped in your tracks, feeling a mix of confusion and hurt wash over you as you realized they were talking about you. Satoru's smile at their words only added to the sting, and you couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal creeping in.

Was it all just a game to him? A bet or a dare among friends? The realization left a bitter taste in your mouth, and you couldn't help but feel foolish for believing in something that was never real to begin with.

Relief washed over you as your instructor clapped, praising your performance. "That's perfect, y/n!" she exclaimed, pausing the music. "You've been doing well; the portrayal of the emotion is just right."

As her words soothed you, you couldn't help but feel the weight of built-up frustration from the events with Satoru earlier. The emotion you poured into your performance wasn't just about portraying the story—it was also a release valve for the pent-up feelings swirling inside you.

With each movement, you channeled your anger, hurt, and confusion, allowing them to fuel your dance with a raw intensity that left you feeling both drained and empowered.

There you were again, watching Satoru from a distance as he laughed playfully with his friends. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you reluctantly tore your gaze away from him, feeling a wave of sadness wash over you. You rested your head on the cold wooden desk, closing your eyes as you tried to push aside the thoughts and emotions swirling inside you. It was a familiar routine now—watching him from afar, longing for something that seemed increasingly out of reach.

"I think she's cute though," one of Satoru's friends remarked, prompting Satoru to turn his attention towards you. "Knowing how easy she was, I might just go after her now," they laughed.

But Satoru's reaction was immediate. His brows furrowed in disapproval as he quickly intervened. "Don't," he stated firmly, his eyes shifting to you, where you lay your head down on the desk.

His eyes lingered on you longer than he intended, the soft glow of the sun casting a graceful halo around you. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest, a pang of longing mixed with regret washing over him. He knew he liked you—perhaps even more than he cared to admit—so why did he still go along with this stupid dare from his friends?

As he watched you, lost in your own world, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was betraying something precious between the two of you. The laughter of his friends echoed in his mind, but in that moment, all he wanted was to bridge the distance that had grown between you and make things right.

The night of the recital was excruciating and nerve-wracking. Every step you took felt heavy with anticipation, the weight of months of preparation bearing down on your shoulders. As you stood backstage, the murmur of the audience filtering through the curtain only heightened your anxiety.

Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to burst from your ribcage as you waited for your cue. The stage lights glared brightly, casting harsh shadows against the darkness backstage. Your palms were slick with sweat, and you fought to control the trembling in your limbs.

Despite the hours of practice and the reassurances from your instructor, doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind. What if you forgot a step? What if you stumbled and fell? The fear of failure loomed large, threatening to consume you whole.

You took a peek out onto the stage, your eyes instantly drawn to the sea of faces in the audience. But amidst the sea of strangers, your gaze quickly found solace in the familiar sight of your parents and your two younger sisters. They were seated near the front, their faces glowing with pride and anticipation. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

As your cue arrived, you shook off all your fears and made your way onto the stage, each step filled with perfect grace. Your movements flowed seamlessly, every emotion conveyed with precision and depth. But then, as your eyes shifted to the crowd, you saw him—Satoru—standing there with flowers in his hand.

A wave of conflicting emotions crashed over you, and all you wanted to do was run away as far as possible from him. Tears welled up in your eyes, betraying the facade of composure you had worked so hard to maintain. It felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on your shoulders, threatening to crush you beneath its burden.

Many in the audience seemed to notice your distress, including Satoru himself. His brow furrowed in concern as he watched you, his earlier jovial demeanor replaced with a look of genuine worry.

Meanwhile, your instructor watched proudly from the wings, unaware of the turmoil raging inside you. To her, your performance was flawless, your portrayal of emotion transcendent. Little did she know, the tears streaming down your face were not just part of the act—they were the raw, unfiltered expression of a heart torn between love and pain.

As the performance came to an end, you and your fellow dancers bowed to the audience as the curtains closed, the applause ringing in your ears like a symphony of triumph. But amidst the fading echoes, your eyes remained glued to Satoru's figure in the crowd.

There he stood, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of concern and uncertainty. It was as if time stood still in that moment, the world around you fading into the background as you locked eyes with him.

"After that, so many dance schools are gonna be giving you offers like there's no tomorrow," your mom says, her voice filled with pride as you all walked out of the theater, caught up in the whirlwind of congratulatory remarks and well-wishes.

But then, as if out of nowhere, your eyes met Satoru's. There he stood by his car, flowers in hand, a silent testament to the emotions that lingered between you. For a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning as you took in the sight of him, the memories of your shared moments flooding back with a bittersweet intensity.

"I'll meet with you guys later," you say, tearing your gaze away from your parents, who had been just as surprised as you to see Satoru. They exchanged a smile before walking away, leaving you alone with him.

As you approached him, a whirlwind of emotions swirled inside you, uncertainty mingling with hope. You couldn't help but wonder what he had to say, what his presence meant after all that had transpired between you

"Y/n..." He started, his voice tentative as he searched for the right words.

"I really liked you, Satoru," you say, interrupting him, your voice soft but steady as you walk closer to him. "I've liked you for longer than you can even imagine."

His expression softens, a flicker of regret passing through his eyes as he meets your gaze. "Was it worth it? The validation of your friends?" you ask, the words heavy with emotion.

For a moment, there's silence between you, the weight of the question hanging in the air. Then, with a sigh, Satoru reaches out to gently take your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring.

"No," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

Without any hesitation, you embraced him in a tight hug, tears streaming down your face as you allowed yourself to release the pent-up emotions that had been building inside you. Satoru felt his heart grow heavy as he returned the embrace, holding you close as he whispered soothing words of comfort. "None of it was worth it, y/n," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. "Everything I said to you was true."

"Then why? Why did you leave?" Your muffled voice said as your face was stuffed into his chest, the words tumbling out between sobs.

"Because I was being dumb, but please let me make it up to you," he whispered, his voice filled with regret and sincerity.

In that moment, the walls you had built around your heart began to crumble, replaced by a flicker of hope. Despite the pain of the past, you couldn't deny the longing in your heart for a second chance, for the possibility of rebuilding what had been broken.

With a shaky breath, you pulled away slightly, meeting his gaze with tear-stained eyes. "I want to believe you," you say, your voice wavering with uncertainty. "But you have to prove it to me."

He pulled away from the hug, placing the beautiful roses gently in your hand. Then, in a bold move that caught you off guard, he got down on his knees, despite the crowd still bustling around you.

"Y/n L/n," he began, his voice ringing out clear and unwavering, "I have loved you ever since the day I laid eyes on you. So please, just please give me another chance."

Your face flushed red from crying and embarrassment as you realized the extent of Satoru's devotion, his declaration of love unfolding in front of a crowd of onlookers. But despite the eyes watching, all you could focus on was the sincerity in his words and the depth of emotion shining in his eyes.

"G-get up," you say, your voice wavering as you watch the people around you smile at the heartfelt scene unfolding before them. But Satoru remains steadfast, his eyes never leaving yours as he stays on his knees. "No! I will wait here until I know you will give me another chance to prove myself, because I love you," he declares.

You nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips despite the tears still glistening in your eyes. "Yes, I will give you another chance," you say softly, your voice filled with warmth and forgiveness. "Now, get up."

With a relieved smile, Satoru rises to his feet, his eyes shining with gratitude and love as he pulls you into a tight embrace. In that moment, surrounded by the murmurs of the crowd and the gentle rustle of the breeze, you knew that together, you could overcome anything that life threw your way.

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss against your lips before resting his head in the crook of your neck. "I really do love you, and I will do anything to prove that to you," he murmured, his words filled with sincerity and determination.

Tears of happiness pricked at the corners of your eyes as you held him tight, feeling the warmth of his embrace enveloping you like a comforting cocoon. "I love you too, Satoru," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, but filled with all the love and affection in your heart.

"Now how about we go eat any and everything in our sight? You more than deserved it today," Satoru says, cupping your cheeks gently with his hands.

A smile spreads across your face at his suggestion, feeling a warmth radiate from deep within as you gaze into his eyes. "That sounds perfect," you reply, your voice filled with gratitude and excitement.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x y/n #angst #jjk angst #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru angst #light angst #angst with a happy ending #suguae

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neptuneiris · 1 month

Text

could you pretend to be in love? (09/10)

The Consequences

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: things get complicated, you and Aemond's relationship ends and despite finding solutions, nothing can repair the damage to your ruined future.

word count: 8.3k

previous part • series masterlist

fortunately it didn't take me as long as last time and finally here it is hehe🙏😚

I really hope you like it a lot and remember that we're not far from the end, so I'm looking forward to your comments with your opinions. thank you very much for reading beautiful people!❤

You want to believe it's all a misunderstanding.

You couldn't sleep all night. Anxiety and worry consumed you like never before, waiting and checking your mail every moment hoping to see if anything would arrive, but nothing.

Your whole night was summed up in thinking about possible catastrophic scenarios, although they were not possible after all, since that is what is really going to happen because at this point there is nothing you can do because the college applications have already passed.

That's why you checked your email every moment, almost on the verge of tears, thinking about what the fuck you're going to do, how you're going to go to college and why Aemond didn't keep his end of the deal.

There was the urge to text him and even call him in all your desperation and confusion, ask him what happened, but you decided to wait until the next morning to ask him in person to get clear answers.

And that's what you're going to do now.

You don't even know if you are right but there is no other explanation when things are too clear. And you can't help but feel the pain of betrayal burning in your chest, with the anxiety consuming you and the need.

You finally arrive at the school, where without thinking of absolutely nothing, you start searching for Aemond through all the hallways, with determination and rage mixed inside you.

Your eyes frantically search through all the students as you walk quickly and make your way through them all, ignoring their stares at you as you don't care at the moment, you have a goal in mind.

And along with that goal and what you have to do now, still your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more painful and confusing than the last.

After all the moments you both spent together, both real and pretend, every laugh, every gesture, every kiss, it all seemed so real and so genuine.

But now… it all felt like a cruel illusion.

And to have to accompany it all with this, it's just unbelievable.

You finally see him in the distance, it's not hard to make out his distinctive silver hair, with his figure walking towards the doors leading to the huge backyard of the school, talking to some friends.

Anger and sadness intensify as you see him looking so calm, as if nothing is going on, made worse by the fact that he won't try to contact you either to let you know anything about the university, or even give you the news himself, anything.

You clench your fists and muster up all your courage before reaching for him, feeling completely hopeless.

“Aemond,” you call out to him, your voice tense and cutting.

He turns to you at the call of your voice, his expression changing from surprise to slight concern in an instant. His friends continue walking and he remains standing, as you walk towards him.

And you don't even give him time to speak, as you immediately raise your phone, showing him the college's Facebook ad on the screen.

“What is this?” you ask him, demanding explanations, confusion and pain reflecting in your eyes.

You feel your voice tremble, but you stand your ground, holding his gaze with a determination that belies your vulnerability.

He watches the screen and you see the worry spread further across his face, followed by a nervousness that runs through him from head to toe. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words seem caught in his throat.

“I'm sorry,” he says in a barely audible whisper, leaning toward you and with sorrow in his gaze, ”I-I didn't want you to find out like this.”

The knot in your stomach tightens even tighter as the worry and anxiety intensifies, watching him without understanding.

“And what does that mean?”

He looks to all sides, noticing the number of students surrounding you who begin to watch you both curiously, whispering amongst themselves.

“Come,” he says softly as he places a firm but careful hand on your shoulder and guides you into one of the empty classrooms, away from the stares.

You don't argue with him because you don't want to draw attention to yourself either, but as soon as he closes the door behind you, you feel the pressure in your chest intensify and you immediately turn to him, the need for answers burning inside you.

“You didn't talk to your grandsire or your sister?” you ask, your voice trembling between anger and the anxiety you're trying to contain.

He looks down for a moment, swallowing hard. His silence hangs heavy in the air before he looks up at you, his eyes showing a mixture of weariness and regret.

“Yes, with my grandsire,” he states to you, "But I'm still working on it," he confesses with his tone infused with a sincerity that hurts you more than you expected.

You feel your breath catch and you watch him in shock, with your lips parted and hopelessness all over your gaze, trying to process what he just said. The hopelessness is reflected in your gaze, and your eyes fill with tears of frustration that you struggle to hold back.

“What?” you manage to say, your voice cracking in disbelief.

He takes a step toward you, his eye fixed on yours as he tries to remain calm, though you can see the tension in the way his hands move, as if he's searching the air for the right words.

“Listen,” he begins, your tone softer and almost pleading, ”It's not entirely true that the whole admissions process is over. There are still… possibilities,” he says nervous, ”And I promise you that I've already sent all your documents to my grandsire. I just need a little more time to be able to convince him, and I will, I swear.”

He tries to convince you, observing you completely honest and sincere in what he is saying, but you no longer believe in him.

His words are like a desperate attempt to calm you down, to reassure you that everything will be okay. But distrust grows inside you with a sharp pain that spreads throughout your chest.

You watch him, looking for some sign to give you hope, some spark of certainty you can cling to. But all you see is uncertainty and nervousness, insecurity, because even he doesn't know if he will get you in.

You think about the announcement, how the university has already sent out all the emails, both acceptance and rejection. Then reality hits you like a slap in the face, and suddenly you understand.

“You… you got in?” you ask in a breathy whisper, though deep down you already know the answer.

He doesn't answer you right away, as instead of words, all you get is his look, a mixture of pity and embarrassment that only confirms it.

“Yes but you'll get in Y/N too,” he quickly insists, his voice desperate to convince you, ” You don't need to worry about anything.”

How easy it is to talk when he is the one who certainly should not worry about his future.

And finally the tears find their way, unable to control them any longer. You press your lips together tightly, trying to keep your composure, but the pain and frustration are too intense.

Aemond stirs restlessly, hating to see you cry. His hands tense, wanting to reach out and be able to hug you, but he restrains himself and watches you with concern.

“Y/N—

“ You don't even know if you'll be able to get me in too,” you interrupt him in a cold and distant voice, laden with bitterness with the feeling of betrayal and disappointment in your chest, “I trusted you, that's why I didn't apply to other colleges,” you look at him hurt and annoyed, “Now what am I supposed to do? The time for applications has already passed. I can't apply anywhere else because this, your promise, should have been settled long ago.”

Your words echo in the air, and the reality of the situation settles between the two of you like a barrier. He is affected by your words and falls silent, not knowing how to respond.

Worst of all, you know that he really wanted to help you, that his intentions were sincere, that's what you really want to think in the midst of all this.

But did he really want to help you in the first place?

If that was really his intention, then you wouldn't be in this position right now, in this situation that should never have been allowed. And you also remember Floris.

The tension is palpable and you feel the lump in your throat tighten even more and you look at him with pain.

“You used me,” you say with your voice cracking and barely above a whisper.

He shakes his head, his gaze full of despair.

“No, it wasn't like that,” he tries to correct with his pleading tone as he takes a step closer to you, “That was never my intention Y/N, you know that.”

You pull away from him, increasing the distance between the two of you, tears gathering more in your eyes and this time you make no effort to hold them back.

“I know because of what happened with Floris,” you say bitterly, ”And the worst thing is that I did like you.”

Your words leave him speechless for a moment, his expression marked by a mixture of regret and pain. He reaches out a hand toward you, as if to touch you, to comfort you, but you abruptly pull away.

“Y/N, please let me explain—

“There's nothing to explain,” you cut him off, unable to bear to listen to him any longer.

You feel something inside you crack and he seems to notice your change, to which he doesn't know what to do.

He tells you something else but you no longer listen. The broken promises, the destroyed trust, it all piles up on your shoulders, making you feel smaller and lonelier than you ever felt before.

The pain on his face is evident and when you finally decide to walk away, Aemond tries to stop you, tries to remedy the situation, but you don't even hear him anymore, you don't even see him, it's as if he is suddenly invisible and you leave him behind with pain and bitterness branded on your chest.

All because you realize that he, his promises, his words, were never worth it. And now you're paying the consequences of your future ruined by an absurd contract you should never have accepted in the first place.

You feel as if the world has fallen on top of you.

All the way home, you feel a mixture of intense emotions overflowing and the only way you can get them off your chest is to cry.

You are thankful that your father is still at work or else you would have had no idea how to explain your visibly pitiful state to him. Besides you don't even have the courage to really tell him what's going on.

But all is probably not lost.

Anxiety, despair and frustration wash over you as you sit in front of your laptop. But it also invades you and you cling to hope. You want, desire and yearn to find a solution, one last chance to not lose an academic year, so you open the browser.

Your fingers move quickly over the keyboard, as you search the admissions pages of other universities.

You visit one after another, hoping to find one that is still accepting applications, one that might have a deadline extension. But as you read and watch, that hope fades.

The words ‘admission perido has ended’ are repeated over and over again on every page you visit.

You try a small college in another city, then the only two available in your own city, but in all the answers are the same. Time has run out. The deadline has passed and there is no way to reverse it.

Frustrated, you hold your hands to your head, feeling the despair and anxiety growing inside you. And unable to help it, tears well up in your eyes and finally the situation crushes you.

With a loud sob escaping your lips, you collapse in your chair, feeling completely helpless, hopeless and like a fool.

You don't understand how you couldn't take precautions, have a backup plan B in case Aemond's plan failed, apply to even the city's public university, but none of that crossed your mind at all.

How are you going to explain this to your father? That you didn't apply to other colleges because you trusted a guy's word to get into Citadel in exchange for making his ex-girlfriend jealous?

Even the situation, thinking about what you were doing all that time instead of applying to other colleges makes you frustrated and angry at yourself for being such a fool.

And yet, you still hold on.

The next morning, your spirits still low, you head to the office of the school's coordinator, Mrs. Turner, with this last spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you can find some way to resolve this with her help.

Mrs. Turner greets you with a friendly smile, though her face reflects some concern when she sees the expression on your face clearly tired from lack of sleep and swollen from all the crying you've done.

“Miss Y/N, what's wrong? Is everything all right?” he asks you, inviting you to sit down.

You waste no time and explain the situation to her. You decide to omit certain details, especially everything to do with Aemond and his promise. Instead, you opt to say that, due to a family problem, you missed the date for applying to colleges.

“Well, I understand that some universities do a second round of application, but you're mostly private universities in the city.”

“Only private here in the city?” you ask nervously and with a slight illusion.

“Yes,” he nods at you, “Maybe you could make an application for a scholarship.”

You bite your lip, feeling the frustration begin to take hold of you again and the illusion disappears.

You know that, while a scholarship might help you cover some of the costs, it won't be enough. You will only be offered a partial scholarship, and even then, the costs of a private university would be unaffordable for you and your father.

With the scholarship you had applied for at Citadel, you would have had most of your expenses covered, as long as you maintained a good grade point average. But you were rejected.

“No, I-I… I can't afford private college,” you admit as you look at her in desperation, ”Are you sure there's nothing you can do at the public university? Maybe send in a special request or something?”

She looks at you with some pity and disappointment.

“I'm sorry Y/N, but I'm afraid that's not the way things work,” she tells you in a soft voice, “Unfortunately, at most universities, once the admissions deadlines have closed, there's nothing we can do.”

You're not even surprised because you were definitely expecting something like this. Nor do you feel anything, just…emptiness and bitterness.

Mrs. Turner maintains her compassionate look as she continues to speak, trying to soften the impact of the situation on you.

“Y/N, I know this may seem discouraging, but I want you to know that all is not lost. Losing a year before entering college is not the end of the world,” she says in a reassuring tone, ”You can use this time to get a job, gain experience, and prepare an even stronger application for the next cycle. There's no rush, and many people find that taking a year off allows them to better focus on what they really want.”

But you know what you really want.

You want to study law, have a professional career, graduate and work at something you really like where you earn enough money to help your dad, give him a better life. That's what you want.

But you ruined it all by agreeing to a dumb contract, by believing his words and by not backing yourself.

You know her words are meant to calm you down, to offer you a positive outlook in the midst of the storm of emotions flooding through you. But, at this moment, these words offer you no comfort.

All you can think about is how your plan, your future, has crumbled in front of you.

You nod slowly, not wanting to seem rude or ungrateful for his attempt to help you. But inside, you feel misunderstood. You know Mrs. Turner only wants to help you, but the despair and fear of the future you now face keep you from seeing the bright side.

“Thank you, Mrs. Turner,” you say with an effort to keep your voice steady, ”I appreciate your advice.”

She gives you a warm, though still concerned, smile as you rise from your chair.

“If you need to talk more, or if there's anything I can help you with, feel free to come see me, okay?”

You nod once more, thanking her for her kindness and time before leaving the office.

Once outside, the hustle and bustle of students filling the halls of the school envelop you and you quickly make your way to your locker.

You open the door with automatic movements, barely aware of what you are doing as your thoughts invade you. With trembling hands, you put away the books and notebooks you won't need for the next few classes.

As you go through the motions, the pain and frustration begin to build. And when you least expect it, tears begin to slide down your cheeks silently.

You try to control yourself, pursing your lips and wiping your cheeks, but your emotions are too intense to be repressed. When suddenly, laughter reaches your ears.

You watch out of the corner of your eye and see Alys and her friends walking almost in front of you with mocking voices and laughter, full of undisguised contempt.

You have an idea what specifically amuses them about you, you know they must have sent you that picture of Aemond and Floris, but you also feel their laughter as a cruel mockery of your already desperate situation.

Still you can't help but feel embarrassed and angrily wipe away your tears with a sharp gesture.

Rage runs through your whole body, for everything. And your tears, though stopped for the moment, still threaten to return. You hurry to put everything away and slam the door shut to finally walk away.

You walk quickly down the hallway, wanting to get away from all the people, when as you turn down a corridor, you come face to face with Aemond, Aegon and his friends.

The impact is almost physical, but both you and they stop abruptly to avoid the blow. And as soon as you realize who you have in front of you, you freeze for an instant.

Just when your day couldn't get any worse.

Aemond, with his silver hair and imposing figure, is the first to notice you. His expression instantly changes from surprise to concern as he sees the traces of tears on your face.

And although he doesn't say anything right away, his gaze is intense, full of worry and guilt.

The tension in the air becomes palpable, because both you and he have no idea what to do, what to say or how to react. But you, feeling the pressure of the stares, feel trapped and instantly have the urge to walk away.

But first, Aemond takes a step towards you, trying to close the distance between the two of you and your eyes meet his, charged with a mixture of desperation and hope.

“Y/N,” he calls your name.

And before he can say anything else, you don't let him and quickly move away.

Desperation drives you to dodge him, also the fact that you can't stand to be in his presence, which you do but Aemond reacts immediately and follows you.

He calls your name with an urgency that makes his voice echo down the hallway, leaving his brother and his friends behind.

“Y/N, please stop, he needed to talk to you,” he urges you.

His hand reaches out to yours in an attempt to stop you but you continue walking quickly.

Maybe it's the look you both have or it's the unusual attitude you're both having around each other that starts to get people's attention. But you don't care since all you want at that precise moment is to get away from him.

“Please, Y/N.”

And then his hand takes yours, stopping you and you turn to him, your face flushed with tears and anger inside you.

“Let go of me,” you tell him in warning in a cold, cutting voice, ”I won't tell you again.”

The scene definitely draws more attention and some students begin to murmur and watch you both very intently, but the whole whirlwind of emotions makes you lose sight of the awkwardness of the situation.

You really don't want to deal with Aemond right now. In fact you don't even want to have anything to do with him anymore.

And Aemond seeing that, your attitude and coldness, the fact that you can't even stand to see him and the fact that you are being terribly honest, hurts him, really hurts him with a sharp pain in his chest, but he insists.

“Please, just for a few minutes. I need to explain—

Completely losing patience, showing the intensity of your pain and frustration, you release yourself from his grip in a sudden movement that draws more attention from the students and the situation becomes an unwanted show.

“Leave me alone,” you warn him through your teeth before turning and walking away with quick steps.

And thankfully he doesn't try to stop you again.

Everyone is looking at you and everyone is looking at Aemond as well, but you quickly find refuge away from all the stares, taking no notice.

However, you should have expected that little show to go around like plague throughout the school accompanied with the new rumor that Aemond Targaryen and his previously invisible girlfriend have broken up.

And honestly… you didn't even care.

To this point, technically he and you have ended whatever the two of you had, so you don't care to either affirm or deny it, you just don't make a big deal out of it and let people believe what they want.

Besides, how could you care when there are certainly more important things like thinking about your now ruined future?

News you have the confidence to share with Alysanne after all the drama involving you and Aemond, since you two are all anyone talks about in the entire school.

“That fucking idiot,” Alysanne mutters in disbelief, "Just when I thought what he did with Floris was so low but this… I mean, are you kidding me?" she stares at Cregan, incredulous, ”This is so much worse.”

You let out a long breath and bring a hand to your forehead as you close your eyes and simply let your body try to relax. It's uncomfortable because of the hard metal beneath you as you lie on the bleachers but you still try.

“But he said he would try to fix it, didn't he?” asks Cregan in a cautious tone.

“And you believe him?” reproaches Alysanne incredulously, "I wouldn't and Y/N shouldn't either," she observes you, ”He had all this time to do something about it, even to be honest with you and tell you ahead of time that he wasn't going to succeed in helping you. Then you would have had a chance to apply to other colleges but no, he preferred to stay silent and enjoy the acting and all that it provoked in his stupid ex-girlfriends.”

And put like that… everything that happened sounds so much worse.

But you know she's right.

While the whole school is whispering about your ‘breakup’ with him, you can't help but feel that there are much more important things at stake, things that Aemond never understood or tried to understand.

And Alysanne seeing your expression and you basically not reacting because you're thinking about the future and how incredibly fucked up you must feel, lets out a long breath and moves a little closer towards you.

“I know it's a stupid question but are you okay?” she asks you in a warm and concerned tone.

You let out a sigh and take a moment before answering, not watching them and not taking your hand off your forehead.

“I don't know what to do,” you say in a low, emotionless tone.

Alysanne grimaces and looks at Cregan who also returns the same expression; they don't know what to do to make you feel better and relieve that huge weight you're carrying.

College is a big deal, both of them would also feel the same way if they were in your place, that's a fact. But by the same token they are not in your situation, they don't know what to do to cheer you up because, what could they possibly do to even help you? Nothing.

“I'm just thinking about how I'm going to tell my dad.”

You confess finally, withdrawing your hand from your forehead and fixing your eyes on the gray sky above you.

“I'll have to lie to him, tell him I applied but all the colleges rejected me,” you say regretfully, “Now I'm just left to look for a job and do that until I can apply next year.”

Alysanne and Cregan exchange a look.

“It's not a bad plan,” she tells you, trying to cheer you up, “In fact, a lot of people of our age don't go to college after graduation and do exactly that, get a job and apply until the next year or until they're sure of what they want to study.”

“Yeah,” Cregan agrees, "Besides, my family has several businesses in town, I could help you get a job at one of them.”

You can't help but place a small smile on your lips, seeing the willingness of both of them in wanting to support you, however, they can see the sadness all over your face and the discouragement you feel.

“Thanks guys, I really appreciate it,” you say genuinely, "And I know it's not a bad plan but…" you sigh, feeling the frustration and sadness swirl in your chest, ”I know my dad, and I know that, when I tell him that I wasn't accepted, he'll be supportive… but I also know that he'll be very disappointed.”

That's what weighs on you the most, far more than anything else, going over the whole Aemond thing and also over you, your dad.

He has sacrificed so much for you, working long hours at a job that doesn't give him what he truly deserves. He earns enough to support you and the house, he has always made sure you both have what you need; food on the table, clothes and basic comforts.

But he never buys anything for himself and his own dreams have always taken a back seat. All so he can give you a chance to do something else, have a better life and now…you feel like you've failed him.

Cregan and Alysanne watch you silently, their faces reflecting the gravity of your words. They know there is nothing they can say that will truly ease your pain, but you know they are both here, offering you their support.

“Well, I don't know your dad but still, he's your dad and he loves you,” Alysanne tells you in a warm tone, ”He knows you better than anyone and I'm sure all he'll want is for you to be okay.”

“And I'm sure he's seen how you've tried your best and you can't take the blame for something that was out of your hands.”

You understand what they both mean and you also ponder your dad's attitude in your mind briefly, but still, you can't help but place a small bitter smile.

“Actually it was my fault because it was my decision to trust Aemond, instead of making sure I had other options to prevent exactly this,” you say without emotion, “And I also feel that… not only it hurts me to have to tell my dad, but also to feel this disappointment,” you explain, “I really believed that I would go to Citadel and that my life was going to follow that path I had planned for a long time. But now… I feel like that dream has been taken away from me again.”

Alysanne looks at you sadly, understanding the weight of your words and she along with Cregan, no longer have any idea what to say to you. And you notice this, so you watch both of them trying to keep a genuine smile on your lips.

“You know? I really appreciate you both being here for me… I don't know what I would have done if I didn't have you guys to talk to,” you tell them sincerely, ”But I think it needed some time alone.”

Alysanne looks at you uncertainly.

“Are you sure? You know I don't mind, I can skip the next class to stay with you.”

“No, no, don't worry,” you hasten to say.

“I can stay too,” Cregan adds, shrugging.

“No guys, I don't want you to miss class for me, really,” you look at them sincerely, "I'll be fine, I just…" you let out a sigh, ”I need time alone.”

They both exchange a look and Cregan is the one who stands up first, stretching his arms out before looking at you with a mixture of understanding and concern.

“Fine but if you need anything, tell us,” he tells you with a soft voice and a warm gaze.

You nod in his direction.

“Yes, thank you,” you reply as you return a small smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

Alysanne lingers a little longer, watching you with the same intensity as always, as if she wants to make sure you really will be okay before she leaves.

“I'll keep an eye out on you, okay?”

“Okay,” you tell her, feeling that simple gesture of support fill you with a strange mixture of relief and sadness.

She nods, smiling a little before walking away along with Cregan, leaving you alone on the bleachers.

And you stand there, thinking about everything and yet nothing, where you allow yourself to let out a long, heavy sigh. You look up at the sky, allowing thoughts to flow unrestricted.

The faint sounds around you envelop you, such as the soccer team boys training on the field and the entire cheerleading squad, as well as the faint, comforting sound of the leaves moving from the big trees along with the birds singing.

And even though you don't want to feel bad, the pain, the disappointment and the uncertainty about what will come next, it all hits you again in an unavoidable way.

And it all blends together in an emotional whirlwind that leaves you exhausted.

Time seems to stand still as you stand there, lost in thought. And you barely notice when someone approaches, as the sound of approaching footsteps barely registers in your consciousness.

And because you are absorbed in your thoughts, you only come out of your trance the moment a soft voice right next to you breaks the silence in your space.

“Hi Y/N.”

You raise your head almost immediately, definitely not expecting that and suddenly you see Floris standing next to you, watching you with a mixture of insecurity and regret.

You frown and look at her confused, not bothering to hide it, truly not understanding what she's doing here, talking to you.

And receiving no response from you, she looks down uncomfortably for a moment, fiddling with her hands as if searching for the right words before speaking.

And this is the first time you see her like this. You don't spend your time watching and analyzing her either but normally she always comes across as confident and sure of her whole persona, but now… you've never seen her so nervous.

“I know I'm probably the last person you want to talk to right now…” she admits with her voice barely a whisper, sitting down next to you on the bleacher, though she keeps an appropriate distance, ”But I really want to talk to you.”

'Talk?'

You repeat in your mind, still watching her without understanding and unable to help but feel a pang of bitterness at the memory of all that has happened.

The truth is you don't want to talk, you already feel frustrated and tired enough without now having to deal with this and especially with her.

But for some strange reason, you don't say anything, you just watch her, waiting, keeping calm, waiting for her to continue. She seems to hesitate for a moment, but then takes a deep breath, focusing her gaze on the horizon.

“I-I… after what happened in Dragonstone…” she begins to speak cautiously, ”Aemond decided to cut off all communication with me.”

That nonconformity and that little ache in your chest comes up as you hear her name and you too look straight ahead, avoiding her gaze.

“He told me that what happened between us was a mistake and that you never deserved that,” she continues in a soft tone, ”I don't know if that gives you any kind of comfort, but I thought you should know.”

'Comfort?'

You don't know whether to laugh or cry but it's clear that none of this brings you comfort.

And she seems to be struggling with her own emotions, as you see out of the corner of your eye how her hands clench in her lap as if she's trying to control the trembling in them.

“And I'm not telling you this to justify myself, I know what happened at that party was a mistake,” she says emphatically, ”I shouldn't have gotten involved, let alone knowing that you were his girlfriend. That was…” she pauses and lets out a frustrated sigh, ”That was a big mistake on my part. I should have walked away from him the moment I met you, given you your place and respected you, but… I didn't.”

Her words fall heavy in the air and although part of you wants to lash out at her, another part of you feels so drained that you can't even find the energy to argue. Besides it's not just her… it's also Aemond.

“I was the one who was all the time looking for his attention at that party, you know? I was the one who had the intention of kissing him all that time, “she confesses, visibly embarrassed, ”I-I… I don't know, I felt so jealous when I came back and saw him with you. I-I guess I… still had feelings for him.”

You let out a long breath and finally speak bitterly.

“If he was the one who sent you to tell me all this to justify what he did and expect me to forgive him, it's not going to work Floris,” you warn her.

She shakes her head instantly, her eyes full of urgency.

“No, no,” she tells you immediately, ”He didn't send me to tell you anything, he doesn't even talk to me and barely notices me when we're in the same place. There's nothing really between us anymore Y/N,” she insists, ”It all ended when I left.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to say or what to really think, also not having the slightest idea what to do.

Even if all of this were true, everything she's telling you, you don't care anymore. All of this just comes with the part where Aemond didn't deliver what he promised you. All of this is just more accompanying pain, but what does it really matter?

“I'm really sorry about what happened,” she murmurs in your direction after you say nothing, “I know my words won't change anything and I'm not expecting you to forgive me… but I wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry.”

You remain silent, jaw clenched and gaze lowered, with the silence still heavy, dense.

Her words echo in your mind, mingling with everything else you've been carrying. But what are you supposed to feel? Relief? More pain? Or both? You don't know.

And resigned to the fact that she won't find some kind of reaction from you nor will you say anything to her, she lets out a last sigh, accepting your indifference without a problem.

“And I also wanted to tell you that…I know that Alys and her friends were the ones who sent you that picture,” she confesses to you and you feel that sharp pain in your chest again, ”And you don't have to worry about them spreading it all over school. I made sure that doesn't happen.”

The lump in your throat tightens. Though his words seek to offer you some sort of comfort, they do not soothe the wound that has already been inflicted. It doesn't change what happened, nor does it erase the humiliation you felt.

But even so, there is something in her tone, in the sincerity with which she speaks to you, that disarms you a little, if only for an instant.

Finally she stands up, feeling that there is nothing more to say. She throws you one last look, full of regret, before turning and starting to walk away.

And you don't stop her, as you have nothing to say, when suddenly, she stops after only a few steps and this catches your attention, so you look at her in confusion.

Floris, still with her back to you, seems to hesitate for a moment, as if considering whether or not to say what has been on her mind. When finally, he turns to you again, his eyes searching yours with an intensity you didn't expect.

“He really loves you, you know? Aemond.”

For the first time in the entire conversation you hold her gaze.

The sincerity in her eyes strikes you, but it's hard to believe those words after everything that's happened.

“When I came back from the exchange, something changed in him towards me. I don't know, he didn't see me the same way anymore,” she explains, "At first I didn't understand why, but when I met you, I knew," she confesses.

She pauses and seems to hesitate, as if choosing her next words carefully.

“The kiss…that kiss meant nothing to him, I know,” she finally confesses. “I saw him at Dragonstone, I saw how he looked at you… completely in love with you.”

You press your lips together and stare at a specific point, remembering those moments.

“And I also saw you completely in love with him too,” she admits in a soft voice, “I saw how you looked at him, with the same intensity with which he looked at you. And honestly… the two of you looked very happy together.”

This makes you feel exposed in a way you didn't expect, stirring a little in your seat, not knowing how to react.

The images of you and Aemond at Dragonstone, the times you spent together on the yacht, the hot tub, on the beach, in the castle and at the aquarium, when everything was fine and neither of you were faking it and it looked like everything was going to be just fine, all flashes through your mind.

“I saw all that, Y/N,” Floris continues, looking down in shame. “And that's why I accepted his decision to walk away from me. Because even though I didn't want to accept it at the time, I knew that what he felt for you was real. And what you felt for him was too.”

For a moment, you stare at her, not knowing how to respond or what to do, since you didn't expect to hear this either.

And you honestly can't deny the honesty in her words and in that it's probably true what she's saying, but you also can't ignore the pain that still burns inside you.

And so you simply nod slightly, as if you are accepting her confession even though you don't know what to do with it.

Floris looks at you one last time before turning completely around and continuing on her way, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the emotions you've been trying to contain.

You feel a surge of sadness mixed with a strange calm, as if there is nothing left to give. Everything that has happened between you, Aemond and Floris is still a complicated knot to untangle.

Now the silence that follows is heavy, but somehow, it also seems liberating.

Aemond POV.

With a folder in hand containing all the documents he needs and a determination all over his mind and posture, he barely observes all the people around him as he walks quickly through the hallways of the building, heading towards a specific office.

When he reaches the corresponding hallway, he slows his pace, cautiously observing his surroundings, making sure his grandsire is not nearby.

After so long keeping him waiting in the hope that he would do him the favor despite having already told him it would not be possible, he must have known that he will never really help him after all the favors he has done for him.

And that is precisely why Aemond has resorted to such measures.

But if his grandsire sees him here, he will immediately know what he wants to do and will not hesitate to kick him out of the building. That's why he has to be quick as the guards have seen him come in and so have all the people who work here.

And it's hard to go unnoticed when you have silver hair, which implies either that you work here or that you are the son, brother or nephew of the people who run the company.

So he quickly makes his way to the office, where he doesn't even knock on the door before entering, just walks in quickly to avoid being seen.

“Aemond?”

He looks at his sister and lets out a long breath watching her wearily, to walk over and take a seat in front of her.

“I'm sorry, my grandsire can't know I'm here or he'll kick me out,” he explains.

“Why? What happened?” she asks genuinely concerned, stopping what she was doing on her computer.

“Nothing, it's just…” he pauses as she brings a hand to his hair, ruffling it in frustration, ”I need you to do me a favor, Nyra. A big one.”

This gets her full attention and she nods slowly in his direction.

“What do you need?” she says to him with all disposition, watching him intently.

Your face, your words, all the moments that happened, whether good or bad, but most of all your hurt and broken face, the disappointment and how terribly sad you must have felt.

All of that is Aemond's drive to finally make things right and the things he should have done in the first place.

But it is not only that, it is also the fact that you no longer want to have anything to do with him, that you no longer want to be in the same place with him, that you can't stand his presence and that you don't answer any of his messages or calls, wanting to stop having any kind of contact with him.

All of that lets him know exactly how you felt about Floris and also about the fact that he didn't keep his promise.

And now he is willing to do anything, absolutely anything to be able to keep what he promised you. It doesn't matter if you still don't want to have anything to do with him, all he wants is for you to go to the college of your dreams.

But Rhaenyra's face after explaining and asking him for the favor, is exactly what he expected but he will still keep trying.

“You know I can't do something like that, Aemond.”

“You just don't have to say anything to him Rhae, please.”

She shakes her head.

“That's only worse. You know how hard it was for me to get him to agree to let me work here since dad died and I still have to put up with his bad treatment—

“Oh please, we all know it's only a matter of time before you and Daemon also get to run this company in addition to Driftmark and Harrenhal,” he interrupts her seriously, “You'll take my grandsire's job and send him to run only the Oldtown company.”

Rhaenyra remains serious for a moment, pursing her lips.

“It's the right thing to do and you know it. My father left this to me, to us,” she clarifies truthfully, ”And your grandfather took advantage to take it all and leave almost nothing to me.”

He lets out a long breath, bringing a hand to his chin.

“When you've finished your degree, you'll run Oldtown and if you want, we can spread out more locations,” she tells him in a soft tone, “Helaena can also run Highgarden and Aegon and Daeron can also help us if that's what they really want. That's what father wanted and I never once intended to take that away from you, your legacy, as your grandsire told you I would.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he tells her in a soft, sincere tone, understanding what she means.

The fight over the inheritance was always in the family ever since their father became ill. He never showed them love or even that he cared even a little for them, but at least he intended to leave them a large part of his legacy.

Neither he nor his siblings fought with Rhaenyra and Daemon for it, it was only their grandsire, who from the time they were all children put hatred towards them to her.

But eventually, both he and his siblings realized that Rhaenyra had other intentions and everything grandsire said was a lie. Rhaenyra didn't want to steal their legacy, she never did.

And now… they have all developed a strange but pleasant relationship with her. He more than anything has developed a respect, even an affection, for his older sister, because she wasn't the villain they had always been led to believe.

“Our arrangement with Citadel University was made precisely from the company in Oldtown, a company he will run until you have graduated,” she continues, “And if he already refused once to help you with that and finds out that I did, this strange peace I have managed to keep will be over.”

And the worst part is that she's right.

He closes his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of those words.

If his grandsire finds out that she helped him behind his back, all the progress they've made to maintain family stability will shatter, destroying any chance of avoiding another conflict. And all because of a girl only he knows.

If it were a nephew, cousin or someone closer to the family nucleus, everything would be different. Nepotism is a common currency among wealthy and powerful families, like his, but in your case, you are a complete stranger.

That is precisely the reason why his grandsire refused to offer help him.

And now, Aemond is caught between the desire to repair the damage he caused in you and the fear that his insistence will cause an even greater rift in the family.

“Then I'll do it,” he says with conviction, sure of his words and Rhae looks at him surprised and confused, “Just tell me how I can get her into college. You don't have to get involved, I'll take it all on myself. I'll say I asked you for help and you refused. If anything goes wrong, it will be my responsibility.”

Rhaenyra lets out a long, deep sigh.

“Aemond—

She begins softly, but he interrupts her before she can say more.

“She deserves this,” he says, his voice lower but laden with sincerity. “It wasn't her fault. She did a favor for me on the condition that I would do this one for her. Besides, I've done a lot of things for my grandfather and the company, especially this company, so please Rhae, I really want to do this.”

Rhaenyra watches him for a long moment, her eyes searching for something in his.

The intensity in Aemond's gaze does not waver, for he is willing to take the consequences, to stand up to even his grandsire, if it means giving you a chance to repair the damage he himself caused.

“Even if I have to give up my own place to give it to her, I don't care, I'll do it.”

Rhaenyra blinks slowly, her mind struggling between logic and the desire to help him. Aemond rarely shows regret, and seeing him so willing to sacrifice himself for someone surprises her and reaches her deeply.

And finally, after what seems like an eternity, she sighs.

“What you're asking is a huge risk,” she admits, looking at him with a mixture of seriousness and empathy.

He holds his breath, his body rigid, as she seems to debate internally and he waits for a decision. And then, she turns to her computer, beginning to type, letting out a long breath.

“But don't be silly, I want you to study at Citadel too.”

The relief Aemond feels is almost palpable. A mixture of gratitude and hope takes hold of him, and his shoulders seem to relax for the first time since he entered the office.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “Truly.”

“Just let me make a phone call and I also need her docu—

She doesn't finish saying the word as he, with a quickness that reflects his urgency, drops the folder with all the necessary papers in front of her on her desk.

Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow, looking at the folder with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

“Sure,” she murmurs and opens the folder, letting out a small laugh, beginning to flip through the documents, making sure everything is in order "Well, this folder is quite complete and the grades are excellent,” she says in acknowledgement, "That's good because it will help us speed up the process."

Aemond allows himself to let out a sigh of relief, watching as Rhaenyra steps in to help him with this favor. And as she begins to make calls and coordinate the necessary details, he remains attentive throughout, beginning to feel more relieved than ever.

He knows this won't exactly make you forgive him, but at the very least, he's fixing the damage he's done to you so he can give you the opportunity you deserve.

general taglist:

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @a-beaverhausen @saturnssrings @ladythornofrivia @iloveallmyboys @vhwyrm @strangersunghoon @urmomsgirlfriend1 @saturnssrings @queen-of-elves

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #hotd aemond #modern hotd #modern au #modern aemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond targaryen angst

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riley-0u0 · 4 months

Text

Wanderer is the type of guy to hate PDA, despises it, would spit on it if he could, but when it comes to you? He doesn’t mind as long as you’re happy, he likes seeing your smile.

Wanderer is the type of guy to genuinely let you use his hat as an umbrella, pressed up against him as rain falls around you, his face bright red and turned away from you.

Wanderer is the type of guy who doesn’t get sick at all, puppet things, and when you’re sick he doesn’t fully know what to do, so he will always go to nahida or tighnari and hesitantly ask what to do.

Wanderer is the type of guy who used to think crying made you weak, so when he saw you crying infront of him, he was confused why he also felt sad and somewhat happy knowing you felt that comfortable around him.

Wanderer is the type of guy to carry you places, I’m not kidding, he’ll fully pick you up bridal style and use his vision to take you to your destination, even if it’s all the way in mondstatd.

Wanderer is the type of guy to be so utterly concerned when you choose his name, not in a genuinely worried way, but in a way that screams ‘wtf’

“How do you feel about Babygirl?”

“I beg your pardon? Is that even a name?”

“Ok then..cumslut!”

“IM SORRY?!”

#wanderer #Scaramouche #genshin impact #genshin #genshin Wanderer #Wanderer x Reader #Scaramouche x Reader #x reader

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fangirl-dot-com · 8 months

Text

Chapter 16 - Chéri

Aha, so I went a different route this time and the POVs are all over the place! But I enjoyed how this one turned out. Hit me in all the feels. just a bit angsty but nothing too terrible!

I hope you all enjoy this chapter! much love from me

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Arthur hated the rain.

Sure, you seemed happy when you danced with P and splashed in the puddles as you waited for the signal for you to get in your car. The smile on your face should have been enough to damper his bad feelings.

But it was raining. And it was Suzuka.

He felt heavy as he got ready earlier that morning. The sad smile on Charles’s face hadn’t helped either. They both felt it when their feet touched the asphalt. They felt it as they held onto each other for a little longer than usual before Charles got dressed.

He tried to take deep breaths before the cameras turned on as he was supposed to help Jensen and Nico with the interviews today. Both ex-drivers seemed to understand the weight that this track had on the younger Monegasque, so they covered the heavier questions.

Arthur could only be glad that he was technically supporting you today. The navy polo felt itchy on his skin. Sure, he missed the red polo with the yellow symbol, but navy was your color. It helped him feel closer to you, when you were kilometers away in your car.

He could tell people wanted to ask. He knew they were itching to just say, “How does it feel to be back on the circuit that killed your godfather.” But, they’d never ask, they would just send sad smiles that didn’t quite reach anyone’s eyes.

Even you, his smiley best friend, could tell something was off.

Arthur’s hands itched more than the skin under the polo. He would never be able to explain the sensation, but they itched. Maybe he should hold a cold can of Red Bull to cool the burn, but that wouldn’t help.

His eyes were strained as he watched the data computer in front of him. He checked and checked again.

Your tires would be fine. There’d be no stray cranes or tractors. The car was safe.

Well, that’s what everyone told him and Charles 9 years ago.

You scared him when you put a hand on his shoulder.

“Jumpy today?” you questioned. You were already in your thick race suit, a helmet was in your hands. It wasn’t anything special, just your plain navy and gold one. You had already showed him your special one for Miami.

He shrugged, not knowing how to answer. “A bit.”

A sad smile formed on your face. Right now, he didn’t need words. He just needed you and Charles to be safe, and not be in the car this weekend.

He finally sighed and turned to face you as he took your helmet in your hands. For a moment, he thought about smashing the damn thing, since he knew you didn’t have a backup. But what would be the point.

He placed the lid on your head, keeping it above your forehead. “Starting pole today?”

Now your smile was genuine. “Yep! Thur, I have a chance to win this!”

He tried to mirror the smile, but again, it didn’t reach his eyes. Normally, he’d wait to kiss the “forehead” of you helmet, but today he needed a little something extra.

Your eyes closed as he leaned in and placed a kiss on your head, almost between your eyes. You placed your hands on top of his, where they were still holding your helmet as a mushroom hat.

You whispered, “Are you ok?”

Arthur backed up just a bit. “Like you said, a bit jumpy.”

Looking back, you knew you should have listened to the warning bells that were going off in your head. Arthur was rarely jumpy.

And he loved the rain.

You stepped closer and gave him a hug. Tears might have pooled at his lash line, but he’d never admit to it. He squeezed just a bit tighter before letting you go, so you could get into your car.

Another hand was placed on his shoulder. His eyes met the figure of Kelly, who was holding P. Her eyes, he thinks, were trying to tell him that you’d be alright. That Charles would be alright. And that nothing would go wrong.

How wrong she was.

Starting Grid:

Y/n L/n

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc

Fernando Alonso

Carlos Sainz

Lewis Hamilton

Lando Norris

Lance Stroll

Oscar Piastri

George Russell

Alex Albon

Pierre Gasly

Logan Sargeant

Esteban Ocon

Yuki Tsunoda

Daniel Ricciardo

Nico Hulkenberg

Valtteri Bottas

Zhou Guanyu

Kevin Magnussen

“And it’s lights out and away we go for the Japanese Grand Prix. Y/n L/n gets a good start down the first straight with her teammate Max Verstappen right behind her. Charles Leclerc goes wide, trying to gain the position around Verstappen, as the Dutchman is still trying to get the jump ahead on his rookie teammate and does he have it on the first turn?

“No he does not! Y/n L/n leads the Japanese Grand Prix!”

Was it normal if his heart was racing just as fast as these cars were? Well, for some fans it would be due to excitement. And, deep down, Arthur was very excited. You were doing everything that you ever dreamed of doing.

You’d make 5-year-old Y/n proud.

“Looks like the rain is drying up a bit. We’ll see who gets called into the pits first, and it looks like our race leader has been called in to switch. Now, she started on the intermediates and looks like she’ll be going to the hards. Weird call, but so far this season she has been on the bad end of tyre degradation. So we’ll see if she’ll be able to keep her lead with the hards.

“Seems as though she has started a train of pit stops and still comes out in P1.”

Your car was cruising. Yes, your heart was racing, maybe going as fast as your RB20. And it was due to excitement. You were leading, with a comfortable gap. Right now, you couldn’t see anything in your mirrors.

You pressed your radio.

“Mitch, what is the gap? And will I be able to take a win or do I need to let Max by?” you questioned. You were hoping that it’d be the first instance. Your maiden race win on your fourth Formula 1 race. What a start that would be.

Mitch finally answered. “Just talked to Christian. If Max is able to catch you, then you’d need to let him by. But, right now your pace is the same if not faster than his. So, kid, I’d suggest you keep making qualifying laps and you might be a race winner today.”

“Copy.”

Your car jerked around a corner as you continued to press.

You were hungry, starving even, for that win. You’d show everyone who doubted you that you were capable of winning.

Yet, around the spoon corner of turn 13 and 14, the RB20 slid a bit more than you intended to.

Your finger flew to the radio button. “Uh, Mitch what was that?”

Her response was immediate. “Your breaks are a bit hot. I know I told you to push, but please slow down on the turns.”

“Got it. And who is the car in front of me? Did someone get around or?”

“That’s Ocon. He dropped down after he pitted and will be a lapped car in about a lap or so.”

Arthur listened from the pits as Mitch gave you some advice. The first time he saw your car jerk a bit too much, he swore he died right there. He was thankfully given a pair of headphones so that he could listen in on whatever you said. They were uncomfortable, but he’d do anything right now to be closer to you.

He watched as you got closer and closer to the Alpine. If you got around it, you’d be home free with almost 10 laps to go.

Your first win. He could almost taste it for you, and he wasn’t even hungry for a victory. And maybe after your win, it’d be a good time for a confession.

But he had hope that things wouldn’t end like that.

You’d get a win and he’d get the one thing he’s wanted ever since you scared him at the first meeting.

“Mitch, he’s braking hard on the turns. Can you please let the stewards know? He’s going to be a lapped car but is defending like he’s in first place.”

One of the Red Bull engineers immediately got on it.

“Mitch?”

Was Arthur hearing things, or did you sound panicked?

“Yeah Kid? We’re on it about the breaking.”

“He’s not letting me by! And my breaks are acting weird again.”

You sounded panicked. Mitch pressed a couple of buttons as Arthur started to nibble on his fingers.

“Mitch! My breaks.”

“Kid, they’re overheating. You need to slow down.”

“Mitch I need to get around him. Seven more laps left.”

“Kid, I know that, but we don’t need you spinning out.”

Arthur’s hands began to burn as the itch got worse.

“He’s going deep. I can go around.”

“Kid, it’s too risky. Just wait until he’s given a penalty.”

“I can do it! I’ll be a race winner!”

“Kid, hold on!”

“I got it!”

Arthur’s heart stopped racing.

“Kid!”

“L/n tries to go around the outside of Ocon and…”

Oh.

The sound was silent and deafening at the same time.

A ringing sound echoed in his ears as he watched your car flip and flip and flip.

Asphalt. Sky. Asphalt. Sky. Asphalt. Sky. Grass. Sky. Grass. Sky. Grass. Sky. Barrier.

Black.

The garage was in chaos, but somehow everything was going in slow motion? Arthur just stood still as everyone raced around.

“That is the Red Bull of Y/n L/n that has gone into the barriers. It seems to be wedged upside down and stuck. Do we have any answer from inside the car?”

Mitch frantically held down the radio button.

“Kid answer me? Kid? Come on. This isn’t funny.”

Arthur just stood still.

Next to Mitch, GP was on the radio with Max.

The Dutchman passed the accident site first.

“Ah, was that Ocon? Serves him right for last week. Gap to Y/n please?”

“Uh. That is a red flag Max,” GP sighed, “please come back to the pits.”

“Fine. Tell the kid that we can drink a juice box or something.”

“Just come in.”

The rest of the drivers got similar radio messages.

“Be careful. Red flag, there’s a Red Bull in the barriers Charles.”

Charles’s heart dropped but he covered it with a chuckle, blissfully unaware. “Max finally made a mistake?”

There was no answer from Xavi.

“Red flag, return to the pits Lando.”

“To the pits please Lewis, there’s a red flag.”

“George, come in. Red flag is out and you need to get to the pits.”

“Ah, Daniel, red flag. Back to the pits please.”

“Oscar, please come to the pits. There’s been an accident and it’s a red flag.”

“Logan? Pits please, the red flag is out.”

“Arthur!”

The yell of his name brought him out of his stupor. His eyes met Mitch’s brown ones, where she was beckoning him over. He took the itchy headphones off and all but sprinted over to the pit wall. Immediately, Mitch put her own headphones on his head.

“Talk to her. Get her talking.”

It was a command that Arthur would take to heart.

“Y/n?” Damn it, voice crack. “Y/n, please let me know you’re ok?”

“It seems as though Arthur Leclerc is trying to get L/n to respond. Is there still nothing? The marshals are over there, and are trying, but she’s not out of the car yet?”

Max looked around for your matching Red Bull. Two juice boxes were in his hands as he looked for your helmet. Had you gone for another lap on accident? He turned to the red-clad Monegasque who was weirdly frozen next to him.

“Hey Charles, where’s Y/n…”

The juice boxes fell to the ground as Max’s attention was now on the big screen that was broadcasting the wreck site.

Next to him, Charles’s eyes were welling up with tears. His head swerved as he tried to find his brother. Curse him for wearing the dark polo.

“Hey, Charlie?”

A voice called for him through the fog, but his brain was hyper-active. Two hands were placed on his shoulders and blue eyes blocked the big screen.

“She has a halo. Right now, they’re trying to get her out, ok?” Max tried to comfort the Ferrari driver, but was having some issues not crying as well.

Charles mindlessly nodded. Pierre had come by a few moments later and brought him into a hug. It was then he let the tears fall along with his knees as he dropped to the asphalt.

Max whispered as tears began to fall. “Come on kid. Just answer please.” His hands were tucked under his face, almost as if he were in prayer.

Lando and Oscar held on to each other, trying to offer some comfort. Daniel stood behind them, hands at his sides.

In his mind, he only thought, “Was he going to lose another friend to this track?”

Charles was still on the ground, being comforted by Pierre as he rocked back and forth. “No, no, no. This cannot be happening again. Pas encore, pas elle. J’ai perdu Jules, je ne peux pas la perdre, Arthur ne peut pas la perdre. S’il te plait, s’il te plait, s’il te plait.” (Not again, no her. I’ve lost Jules, I can’t lose her, Arthur can’t lose her. Please, please, please.”)

Logan sat numbly on the ground a little ways away. He had gone to get his headphones first thing to block everything out. He would laugh if he could at the next song that played through the speakers, but didn’t. Life is a Highway wouldn’t have the same meaning after today.

Alex was on the phone with Lily, trying to update his girlfriend. You weren’t close with Alex yet, but he saw how well you treated his teammate.

Lewis and George were couped up in the Mercedes garage. Lewis had refused to turn around and look at the big screen. Ten years hadn’t even passed since it last took a life and Lewis wasn’t about to see them drag your body from under the wreckage. George was trying to cope. Sunglasses were on to hide his tears and red eyes.

At this moment, they were all prepared for what was to come: your body draped with a white blanket.

Arthur was still trying. In this moment, it was just you and him. You were alive, you had to be.

“Y/n? Please answer me? I-I can’t lose you. Ok? Can’t lose you like Jules. S’il te plait, tu dois aller bien. Nous avons encore tellement de choses a faire. Tu as besoin d’une victoire, et je te dire ce je ressens. Chéri…” (Please, you have to be ok. We still have so much to do. You need a race win, and I need to tell you how I feel.”)

A crackling noise came over the radio, right as he was about to give up. His breath hitched.

“Y/n?”

“Heeyyyyy,” you voice sounded. A sob escaped from Arthur’s lips.

His hands didn’t itch anymore.

“You are an idiot.”

A groan left your mouth. “I know. Shit, I’m stuck.”

Mitch, who now had another headphone set on her head, started to talk. “Ok kid. The RB20 was designed for this. You just have to keep kicking the side.”

You sighed. “Ok.”

You managed to scrunch yourself in the cockpit and began to kick. That was the moment that Arthur ran back to the garage.

“She’s awake and answering!”

Cheers filled the air while Christian crouched down.

“Thank God,” he whispered, before standing back up and walking out to the pit lane.

Kelly was the one to grab Arthur’s shoulder. “Come, I can drive you to the hospital. She’ll need us.”

With a nod of his head, Arthur grabbed your bag and off he, P, and Kelly went. Vito quickly followed after them, hands full of your documentations and everything you'd need.

On the pit lane, Max watched as the wall of your RB20 suddenly flew away from the car.

“Charles,” he barely whispered, but the Monegasque heard him somehow and stood up swiftly. A hand grasped his shoulder, and he whipped around to find Christian.

“She’s ok.”

By now, everyone’s eyes were trained on the car. Marshals swarmed around it, ready for anything. What they didn’t expect though, was for one leg to swing out and then another. By the time they got over their shock, you were already halfway out. They quickly kneeled to help you further.

“She is out of the car and looks completely fine! She will have to be taken to the hospital. Our calculations are showing that when she stopped, she experienced 54 g-forces. We don’t know if the race will be continued for the remaining 7 laps, but we will keep you updated.”

Your feet squished the grass as you limped toward the on-site ambulance. You looked around and saw multiple cameras, watching your every move. You were thankful for some of the marshals who tried to push them away. But, in the back of your mind, you knew you needed to let everyone know you were fine.

So, with a probably sprained ankle, you started to lightly bounce and raise your hands and wave. A few laughs were let out by the people around you. You pressed a finger toward you heart and then lifted it to the sky.

Charles knew exactly what you were doing. He finally lifted himself off the ground, with Pierre’s help, and did the same motion.

Thank you Jules.

Max was back in the garage, now getting ready for the last few laps. He was angry. Honestly, they should just let everyone go, but a race is a race and it’s not completed.

Mitch and GP came over.

“Kelly went with Arthur and P to the hospital. She says that she’ll keep us updated,” GP told him.

Mitch sucked in a breath. “We’ll let you know how she is after the race. And Max?”

He turned to your engineer.

“Win for her. Ok?” Tears lined her eyes.

Max nodded, wanting to win for you.

He put his helmet on and stalked toward his car.

“And Max?” This time it was Christian, who had jogged up next to him. Max turned his head, full attention on his team principal.

“Give Ocon hell for us.”

Max turned back toward his car, eyes quickly darting to the alpine vehicle.

Oh, he would.

Race Results:

Max Verstappen +25

Charles Leclerc +18

Lando Norris +15

Oscar Piastri +12

Carlos Sainz +11

Lewis Hamilton +8

George Russell +6

Daniel Ricciardo +4

Alex Albon +2

Fernando Alonso +1

Logan Sargeant +0

Yuki Tsunoda +0

Pierre Gasly +0

Valtteri Bottas +0

Lance Stroll +0

Kevin Magnussen +0

Nico Hulkenberg +0

Zhou Guanyu +0

Esteban Ocon +0

Y/n L/n – DNF

Standings after Suzuka

Max Verstappen – 100 points

Charles Leclerc – 66 points

Lando Norris – 42 points

Y/n L/n – 41 points

Lewis Hamilton – 32 points

Oscar Piastri – 31 points

Carlos Sainz – 28 points

Fernando Alonso – 23 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 21 points

George Russell – 20 points

Alex Albon – 4 points

Logan Sargeant – 0 points

Lance Stroll – 0 points

Pierre Gasly – 0 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 0 points

Zhou Guanyu – 0 points

Kevin Magnussen – 0 points

Nico Hulkenberg – 0 points

Valtteri Bottas – 0 points

Esteban Ocon - 0 points

Constructors Standings after Suzuka

Red Bull – 214 points

Ferrari – 139 points

McLaren – 105 points

Mercedes – 87 points

Racing Bulls – 36 points

Aston Martin – 26 points

Williams – 4 points

Alpha Romeo – 0 points

Haas – 0 points

Alpine – 0 points

f1 has posted *pretend there are no cars in the back of the second photo*

f1 Y/n L/n is out of the Japanese Grand Prix following a nasty impact! Mechanics who looked at her car found a faulty brake pad that caused an intense lock up on turn 15. The Red Bull rookie would have experienced around 54 G's when her car finally stopped at the barrier. L/n was escorted to the local hospital and was later released today.

liked by y/n_nation, maxiel_lover, iamred_iamyellow, and 94,873 others

y/n_updates I am so thankful that she's ok now, my heart stopped for a few minutes until she got out

y/nxarthur Arthur's and Charles's faces as they were waiting for her to get out, I was sobbing

leclerc4ever well, considering they lost their godfather at this exact circuit almost ten years ago, I felt their pain through the screen thur_thur exactly, Arthur's cries over the radio will haunt me for the rest of my life

box_box_express does anyone know who went with her? obviously the drivers had to finish the race

y/n_nation some sources say that Arthur and Kelly went with her as well as her manager Vito box_box_official thank you!

rb_rookie Red Bull finally released a statement that they will be looking into the faulty part, because apparently Max was also having the same issue

y/n_lover glad our girl is ok, but did anyone see how mad Max was? she locked up because she was breaking too hard behind Ocon. He needs to be stopped because this is Y/n's second impact and its all because of him

f1_fanatic ikr, and he was about to be a lapped car too!

b0x_b0x_nightmare she flipped almost 10 times, she could have died - Jules was definitely keeping her safe (thank you halo)

y/n_marry_me AND THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HER FIRST WIN TOO GRRRRRRRR

f1_gossip has posted

f1_gossip looks like Mad Max is BACK. The dutch driver was seen yelling at Alpine driver Esteban Ocon after the race. Some sources say he was needed to be held back and Ocon had to be escorted back to his own garage. Max also barely responded to any of the post-race media interviews and immediately left after he was done.

tagged: maxverstappen1

liked by max_max_super, f1_fanatic, y/n_on_TOP, and 24,028 others

f1-fan BAHAHAHA I was laughing my ass off when Max was yelling at Ocon because he deserved it

max_max the return of Mad Max (although I wish it was under different circumstances, I feel so bad for Y/n)

lestappenlove I also saw Charles join in on the yelling as well

max&kid well deserved for Ocon. Seriously though, he needs to have like a penalty or something

y/n_fanclub is it bad that I wished Max would have punched him?

max_is_da_best nope, because I think we all wanted that to happen

leclercxverstappen I know for sure that if Arthur was there, he would have gone off too, you don't mess with Y/n and expect to walk away unhurt

max33 he was FUMING

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 everything hurts but pookie made it better with Macas, Cars 2, and the Porsche 911 Lego set - I'll be back, that top step is MINE

tagged: arthur_leclerc

liked by ollibearman, lewishamilton, danielricciardo, y/n_updates and 73,911 others

y/n_nation so happy for the update! we're all so glad that you're ok!

oscarpiastri mad that he got a picture and not me, I was literally also there

logansargeant and I brought your blanket?? y/n.89 but did you bring me macas, my favorite movie, AND legos?

olliebearman that's it mom - I'm coming to visit before you actually die

y/n.89 SON! olliebearman MOM! arthur_leclerc son? olliebearman DAD? maxverstappen1 son?! charles_leclerc dad?! olliebearman grandfathers? landonorris hold-up

y/n_updates POOKIE?? HELLO?

y/nxarthur me rn, having the urge to say something about the word "pookie": STAY IN THE BOX, NO! STAY IN THE BOX, NO!

that_1_y/n_fan I wonder what the doctor said

y/n.89 basically I have bruises in the shape of my seatbelt and a sprained ankle from kicking the side of the RB20 to get out. just some r&r needed before Shanghai! y/n.fan703 oh my gosh feel better!

danielricciardo hope you feel better darl! Heidi and I will be over with some actual food

lewishamilton Roscoe says that you need some snuggles, we'll come over when you tell us to francisca.gomez coming over with pear and some other get better goodies :D y/n.89 I love you all!

maxverstappen1 was the Lego set really necessary?

arthur_leclerc YES y/n.89 YES landonorris YES oscarpiastri YES logansargeant YES maxverstappen1 ok sheesh, sorry

y/n-y/n-fan is no one going to address the middle picture??

author shhhhhhhh (its for the plot)

f1_fanatic Ocon better watch out cause it's on SIGHT

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19

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