#you don’t understand this song makes me ILL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

runariya · 17 days ago

Text

Beyond Probability JJK (m.)

summary: Matching with an idol? Unlikely. But with a 99% compatibility? Beyond probability. pairing: idol!Jungkook x f!reader genre: idolvers, S2L, fluff, smut rating: 18+, MDNI! warnings: fluff, fluff, a bit of self doubt, fluff, fluff, explicit sexual content, shower sex, unprotected sex, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 4k

a/n: It’s a rly cute and short oneshot, light and mainly fluff, nothing too deep, no big words etc this time. Just had to get it out of my system since the idea’s been on my mind for months now (unedited bc I fell ill halfway through writing it 🤒)

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

Your biological clock’s ticking—has been for some years now—and even though you’re only now nearing 30, you’re painfully aware that the life you pictured as a kid might never come true.

It’s not like you’re unstable in who you are or what you’re doing. You’re fairly successful at your job, you’ve got your own place, and you’re more social than most people these days. Still, you’re only what most would call average-looking, and even though you’ve got a good career, you’re too soft to keep it up forever. You picture yourself more as a loving wife and mother than a corporate boss bitch climbing the ladder of success.

That’s also why your dating life has been rocky all along. Men see what you put out there, but they don’t like who you really are or what you want from life, which has left you single for most of it.

So, when a new project starts—after the K-pop industry finally acknowledges that idols need partnerships and a life of their own, and fans finally understand that these people are human too, that they deserve to experience love and happiness like everyone else—you decide to take your chances too.

Funnily enough, all the labels have teamed up, hiring not only the best scientists and psychologists from Korea but from around the world to create a program that can find ideal matches for their idols. Sure, science shouldn’t determine who you fall in love with, but… what if it could?

After being pre-selected—just to confirm you’re not some crazed fan—you’ve spent over two weeks going through tests. Recorded interviews, personality assessments, even physical evaluations… now you’re staring at your company’s computer screen, listening to Dr. Song explain the results through the phone.

“Ninety-nine percent?”

“Yes. The chances of such a high compatibility score are next to impossible. We see it as a perfect match and would like to introduce you to your match.”

“Sure, of course.” Even though your voice is steady, you can feel your nerves flaring up like never before.

“Is tomorrow at 8 p.m. alright for you?”

“Yes, that works for me.”

“Perfect, we’ll see you then.”

Well, joke’s on you, you didn’t expect this outcome.

Meeting an idol feels surreal, and the closer you get to 8 p.m. the next day, the more you can feel the anxiety and doubts inside you rising. Every last detail in Dr. Song’s calm, clinical rundown replays in your mind, the ninety-nine percent match, the endless rounds of testing, the surreal realisation that, somehow, all those numbers and algorithms miraculously spat out a name next to yours.

You want to trust that there’s a reason for this, that somehow science isn’t just working with chance, but the tension of actually meeting someone this special is so overwhelming you barely notice yourself entering the lab building until you’re standing outside Dr. Song’s office.

“Right on time,” she chirps, giving you an approving nod. She seems to sense your nerves, and as she leads you down a hallway you’ve never been before, she gives you a reassuring smile. “I know this is all a lot. But he’s likely feeling the same way. The tests told us that he’s, well, quite like you.”

Her words would make you laugh in any other situation, though disbelief and a strange kind of comfort floods through you still. Like you. An idol, standing here in a lab somewhere to meet some random stranger, feeling just as out of place as you. You’re not sure of that but still like to think it must be true.

You don’t have time to process it fully before you’re led into a quiet room with yellowish walls so plain they almost blur in the corners of your vision, a low, comfortable couch and a couple of chairs standing there and none of the lab equipment that surrounded you in the testing rooms all those weeks ago.

And then you spot him, sitting on the couch, alone. He stands the second you walk in, hands half in his pockets, a slight, almost unsure smile grazing his lips as he glances down at you. He’s got that casual look about him, the same dark eyes you’ve seen a hundred times on a screen that somehow feel warmer and more human here.

He looks not quite better than he does on screen, but not worse either. Somehow, he’s realer, if that’s a word—close enough that you can see the little flecks of colour in his irises, the slight tension in his posture, the faintest trace of nerves hiding under his composure.

“Hi.” Jungkook’s voice is lower, softer than you expect from an idol. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m ___.” There’s a pause, and you can tell he’s just as unsure what to do with the space between you two as you are. The click of the door makes you turn around briefly, only to realise Dr. Song has left you both alone. “This is, um, weird, right?”

He nods, a quick, breathy laugh breaking through. “Very. I mean, this isn’t exactly a ‘normal’ kind of meeting, right?”

His words are awkward but disarming, and suddenly, you’re aware of all the tiny, meticulous details of him that somehow make him feel more relatable than his polished, on-screen persona. The way his hand keeps moving to rub against his thigh or abs, his tongue playing with his lips and piercing ever so slightly—everything about him is familiar but also somehow close enough to feel completely new.

“I don’t think I was ready for this,” you admit. You aren’t really talking to him but more like letting your own thoughts slip out in the safest way possible, like saying it makes it feel less absurd.

“Honestly, same.” He laughs, and you think there’s a light flutter in your chest now. “I kept thinking about this whole ninety-nine percent thing. Like… how does that even work? Isn’t it supposed to feel, I don’t know, obvious? Like you know the moment you see someone?”

You nod, understanding exactly what he means, and somehow you move on autopilot, walking towards him and sitting down on that couch with him beside you. It feels like you should both somehow know, like there’s a sign or an instant connection, something that would make all of this feel simple, easy. But it’s just the two of you in a quiet room, barely knowing each other, held together by nothing but a number on a report.

“Yeah, that’s so wild. I didn’t think I’d have a match, this close to a hundred even less. Might be a glitch if our score is this high.”

Jungkook nods with sparkling eyes, seemingly relieved by your honesty and humour. “Yeah, I get that. I kept thinking about it too. Wondering if maybe the tests were wrong, or maybe I was just…thinking too much.” He lets out a sigh, his gaze meeting yours for a long, meaningful second. “But I think maybe this is about finding out, right? Not having it all make sense right away.”

“Hm, makes sense.” You giggle, because what else can you do in the presence of him.

The two of you sit there in a momentary silence, as if testing each other, feeling out the small boundaries that keep you both distant.

“So, what did the report tell you about me?” You ask the question half-jokingly, trying to break the quiet, but also curious. You want to know what he knows, how much of this supposed ninety-nine percent compatibility is actually something that either of you feel.

He lets out a silent breath, looking down as if slightly embarrassed. “Honestly, not as much as you’d think. They told me you were kind of… soft-spoken but resilient? And that you have a job that’s, uh, stable and…” He trails off, the tips of his ears slightly pink, like he’s embarrassed to keep going.

“And?” You can’t help but push further—not maliciously, just way too curious and playful for your own good. Jungkook’s expression shifts from embarrassed to surprised, and then to a look that’s just as playful.

“And that we’re, apparently, very much sexually compatible.”

Really, you should be the one feeling embarrassed or shy now, but you can’t help the laugh that slips out. You know exactly what he’s hinting at—your report clearly showed the same.

“Well, it might be not wrong. And they told me…” You pause, realising that you barely remember the details in the face of the reality in front of you but alas. “They said you’d be a good match because, I think, there was something about humour?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Humour? Never heard of it.” And it makes you laugh all over again. “I feel like they just told us things we’d want to hear, to make it seem easier and normal.”

His words hit close to home, but they’re strangely comforting in the way he says them. You reckon, he’s just as bewildered by this as you are, maybe even more so. And somehow, in the middle of all the awkwardness, you find yourself genuinely smiling at him, naturally gravitating towards him, finding that there’s a softness and reassurance in his gaze, a gentleness that cuts through your nerves like a knife through melted butter in the sun.

You start talking more freely after that, exchanging stories that are too mundane to make sense in any real context but feel right here. You tell him about your last trip to the beach, how you got sunburned and spent the whole evening sitting on your balcony, nursing it with iced water and aloe, wishing for a helping hand that you didn’t have. He laughs, nodding along as if he can picture it exactly and tells you about how he tried to make pasta he ate in Italy for the first time a few months back and ended up burning the whole batch, because no one was by his side, so badly his kitchen smelled like smoke for days.

The more you talk, the more you notice the little things about him that aren’t so polished, aren’t so perfect, and make him feel more human and real than anyone you ever met. He has a way of listening, eyes intent on yours, like he’s trying to pick apart every word to understand it better. When he laughs, it’s with his whole face, even body, not the careful, composed look of an idol but a natural, carefree laugh that makes you feel like maybe he’s as relieved as you are to be here, to have someone he doesn’t have to impress.

At some point, you both lapse into a comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts but somehow still connected. The tension from earlier has faded away, replaced by a soothing aura you know you don’t want to miss for a day in your life.

Eventually, Jungkook glances over at you, his eyes sucking you in without much resistance. “I kept thinking this would feel forced, you know? Like we’d be sitting here, struggling to find anything in common.” He leans back, drapes his arm around the back of where you’re sitting, glancing up at the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “But… it doesn’t feel that way. You feel… I don’t know, right?”

The slight flutter in your chest has now swelled into a full-blown hurricane, and you’re not sure if it’s that ninety-nine percent compatibility causing it. But you don’t let yourself think too much—not when you’ve both been inching closer with each word, not when you take a chance and lean in, resting your head against his side. Especially not when his arm settles directly over your shoulder, pulling you a little closer, his other hand finding yours, fingers intertwining just to see how it feels.

“Yeah, it feels right. I really like this.”

As you absently play with his fingers, breathing in his scent for the first time and deciding it’s like heaven, you let yourself trust science. Because this feels like exactly where you’re meant to be.

While the first meeting with Jungkook went better than you’d ever hoped, you’re painfully aware of your overthinking nature. Overthinking in a way that makes it painfully clear there are countless women out there who, on the surface, would seem a better visual match for him than you.

Overthinking to the point where you wonder why Jungkook would even need matchmaking when he could so easily choose a partner on his own. It’s also why staying focused at work isn’t exactly easy today, knowing that soon his label will be sending a car to pick you up for your next meeting with him.

You understand the precautions they’ve taken and completely agree it’s better to meet in a private, safe space rather than making headlines this early on. That’s why, as the tinted car arrives, you feel a bit more at ease than you have all day.

Soon enough, you’re driving down the path to the label’s underground garage, and while you fix your makeup real quick, the car comes to a stop. The driver nods and guides you towards the lift, where the lights are dim and everything has this quiet, professional atmosphere you’ve only seen on screen.

You try to take it all in, letting your thoughts settle just a bit more as you follow through to the hallways upstairs, past doors labelled with room numbers and studios, and then finally, you’re outside the door to Jungkook’s studio, right where you’re supposed to meet.

Your heart beats a little faster as you hear Jungkook’s familiar voice call out, “Come in,” and when you open the door, you find him leaning casually against the chair before his equipment with an easy smile that somehow manages to be both happy and slightly flirty.

Again, Jungkook’s dressed just like uniquely him, with a few silver rings glinting on his fingers. And while you didn’t think he’d even get up to greet you, he steps forward and embraces you in hug so tight, it leaves you drowning in him.

“Hey,” he greets with that disarming grin, eyes boring into you, taking in your formal work attire, as he gestures to the coffee set up besides his laptop. “Hope you don’t mind the casual vibe.”

You laugh a little, settling onto the free chair beside him, feeling a bit strange but somehow not. “I think it’s perfect. And to be honest, I don’t think I’d cope well with the whole five-star dining treatment and whatnot.”

He laughs, nodding in agreement, taking your purse from your hands and draping it casually over the back of his chair. The fact that he’s still so attentive, even though he’s clearly in his element here but completely relaxed, is rather fascinating and pulls you in even more.

Like the day before, talking with him comes easy, and while there’s nothing groundbreaking in your conversations, every word feels meaningful in the bigger picture.

Eventually, you feel yourself relaxing like you were at home by your own, getting comfortable enough to let out the thoughts that have been swimming in your head since last night. “I’ve thought a lot about how all of this could play out,” you admit, taking a sip of your coffee, trying to find the right words, though knowing there won’t be any wrong words when talking with Jungkook. “And honestly, I’m not really interested in taking things public if they did work out. I know that’s probably strange to say, but I’m not cut out for the spotlight.”

He tilts his head, watching you thoughtfully. “No, it’s not strange at all. I get it.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you go on, “I just want something real. A partner who’s loyal, someone who’s there because we get each other, not because we’re some public ‘it’ couple, parading around every chance we get. Does that sound crazy?”

He shakes his head, while he swings from one side to the other. “Not at all. That actually sounds perfect to me.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that makes you feel, for the first time, like there’s some truth to your report. “The whole ‘idol’ thing is just a job. It’s not who I am, not at the core. And having someone who sees it that way, is what I want too.”

It elates you to know that you could have something like this, with him, someone you could genuinely share your life with.

Then, in a thoughtful voice, he asks, “What do you want for the future? I mean, outside all of this.”

You take a breath, feeling a little nervous but wanting to be honest. It’s not like it’s news to him, seeing that this information’s written in the report he was handed. “I want something traditional. A home, a family, maybe staying home with kids, having that steady, grounded life. It sounds simple, I know, but it’s what I’ve always pictured.” You look up at him, expecting maybe a hint of judgement, but instead, you find him nodding, his eyes lighting up like a candle in the night.

“I don’t think that sounds simple at all, but meaningful.”

A shy smile forms on your lips as you add, “Sometimes I feel like people don’t see that side of things anymore, you know? Like everyone’s so focused on careers and success and everything else… and I get that, I do, but I’ve always just wanted something steady. Something I can hold on to.”

His hand finds yours, his fingers like second nature intertwine with yours, and the gesture is so simple yet so heartwarming that you feel like squealing out of happiness. “That’s exactly what I want too.” It’s nothing new to you too, but him saying that, seeing the honesty in his eyes, is better than any data shown to you. “I want that sense of home.”

You feel yourself falling a little harder, a little faster, and maybe that scares you a bit. You’ve seen the kind of attention he gets, the kind of girls that throw themselves at him, and it’s hard not to let those doubts creep in. Especially now. “I know this probably sounds insecure,” you start awkwardly, glancing away, “I think, I don’t know, maybe I’m not the kind of person someone like you would go for. I mean, you could have anyone, and not just because you’re an idol.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. And while his mouth opens to say something, the pull against your hand surprises you as much as him settling you in his lab. “Hey, don’t think like that. I’m here because I want to be. And trust me, I’m not looking for ‘anyone’. I’m looking for someone who gets me. And that someone is you, no?”

The look in his eyes is so genuine, so unguarded, that it’s hard to keep your heart from doing all sorts of stunts. He’s not the polished idol right now; he’s just Jungkook, being flirty, being compassionate, being so him, sitting in a cosy studio with his tattoos, his piercings, his moles, his beautiful smile, his whole presence more comfortable and inviting than you could have imagined.

And as he sits there, looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, you realise that you definitely don’t have to doubt this. Maybe it’s okay to let yourself believe that he’s here because he wants to be, that he’s falling for you irrevocably just as you’re falling for him.

“Sooo… that means?” You know you need to be brave now, because if this isn’t a dream, you’d never forgive yourself for not taking the leap.

“That means, if you want to, I’d love to have you as my girlfriend.”

“Isn’t it a bit rushed?” You don’t actually think so, but you still need to be sure.

“I’m all in if you are. I don’t want to waste any more time, and even though it’s just a report, I can feel there’s real truth behind it.”

Fast forward seven months, and you find yourself pressed against the shower wall like you do every night. But this time, it’s different—just hours ago, you made your first public appearance on a music show with Jungkook, just because you both felt ready, where he was not only nominated for Best Singer of the Year but won as well.

“Koo, right there, right there.”

It still amazes you how his cock seems to find your g-spot as soon as he enters you, though you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Yeah? Right there, hm? Or is it…” he trails off, shifting his hips ever so slightly, making you realise he’s actually hit the centre point of your g-spot now, his hard, unrelenting thrusts pushing you over the edge without warning.

“Oh my goooddd,” your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open against the cool shower wall, as your cunt keeps gripping him even though it’s already creaming around his cock.

“Good girl, keep going, love. Show me how many you can take tonight.”

There’s nothing you can do, not that you’d want to do anything other than let him rearrange your insides. Especially not when his tattooed hand finds its way from the back of your hair to your jaw, tilting your head to the side, giving you the perfect view of his upper body—rivulets of water cascading down his chiselled form, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed.

He’s the epitome of perfection. Not just a ninety-nine percent but a hundred.

His eyes, though hooded, bore into your soul as his hips pick up the pace. It’s this connection you share with him make being with him feel so special.

“Koo…”

“I know, love, just a bit more. Can you be a good girl?”

“Yes,” you moan, because hell, you can. “Yes, for you…ah, winning the trophy.”

Even though you shouldn’t feel his cock twitch with the pace he’s set, you do, realising instantly what he needs tonight.

“Best singer, Koo…fuck…best boyfriend, only fucking me when, hmm, the whole world wants a piece of you.”

“Only you. Always you, ___, love.” You think you catch him licking a drop of saliva from his lips as he stares down at where your bodies connect, sending another wave of arousal from your stretched-out hole.

“You’re so big.”

“Just for you, fuck, squeeze a bit more.”

It’s not that you did it on purpose, but when his hand shoots down to your clit, circling it just right, your body responds as though it’s never felt this good, soaking him even more and gripping him tight as a vice.

“Like that, love, like that.” Jungkook grunts and pants, holding you harder, tighter as his cock seems to swell even more, pumping frantically in sync with your impending second orgasm.

When Jungkook can’t hold back any longer, it’s all you need to let go too, the rush flowing through your veins just as fiercely as the love you feel for this man.

After some time, Jungkook pulls out, helping you straighten up and lean against his chest under the stream. His veiny hands trail down your body, washing away his release dripping out of you, as he plants kisses along the side of your face.

When he’s had enough, he, like always, turns you, brushing the wet strands of hair from your face. And as you do the same to him, captivated by how content and in love he looks, you can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world when, for the first time, Jungkook declares his feelings.

“I love you, till the day I die, ___.”

“I love you too, and beyond.”

Because this, because having Jungkook calling you his, is beyond probability.

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀 If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

permanent taglist: @runariyaluvr , @kookiewithluv , @closer-to-jungkook , @dreamcatcherluvr , @blueofocean, @https-mei, @xsyruhh , @nemelkawar , @joonlover1207 , @elinaki92

#fic: beyond probability #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts army #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #jjk x reader #jungkook #idolverse #Jungkook idolverse #Jungkook smut #bts smut #Jungkook fluff #bts fluff

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youreverydayfangirl · 29 days ago

Text

ENDGAME

pairing: max verstappen x singer reader

summary: the one where new beginnings are made, a second championship is one and she allows herself to fall

warning: self doubt

a/n: hey guyssss

face claim: sabrina carpenter

f1 masterlist

main masterilst

series masterlist

y/nsprivate has posted

liked by jimmyandsassysdad, thatoneartgirlalex and 20 others

y/nsprivate BACK IN THE STUDIO

jimmyandsassysdad when she writes songs about you>>

-> y/nsprivate STOP YOUR SO CUTE

livbereallydumb NEW MUSIC???

-> y/nsprivate new beginnings.

thatoneartgirlalex this new album is gonna hit so hard

-> y/nsprivate dont you know it babes

-----

y/nsprivate has posted

liked by jimmyandsassysdad, thatoneartgirlalex and 25 others

y/nsprivate hes actually gorgeous omg

leosfather THE ARMS 🥵

-> y/nsprivate pack it up leclerc

keekslikestospamm CAUGHT Y/N THIRSTING 🫵

-> y/nsprivate EVERYDAY OF THE WEEK EVERYWHERE

livbereallydumb if gizmo likes him i like him

-> y/nsprivate dont we know it

thatoneartgirlalex he better treat you well

-> y/nsprivate he does dont worry ❤️

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

Y/n’s screen lit up, and her heart did a small flip at the sight of Max’s name. She swiped to answer, and his face filled her screen, looking more tense than usual, his hair a bit messy as he ran a hand through it.

“Hey, champ,” she greeted with a gentle smile, trying to ease the tension she saw in his eyes. “What’s going on?”

Max managed a small smile back, but it was laced with nerves. “Tomorrow’s just… it’s everything, you know? I can’t think straight.” He paused, exhaling, his eyes darting down as if ashamed. “I don’t even know what to do with myself. I’ve never felt this... tense.”

Y/n’s expression softened. “It’s all riding on tomorrow, huh?”

He nodded, a faint flicker of vulnerability in his gaze. “If I mess it up… after everything…” His voice trailed off, and he looked away for a moment. “I want this more than anything, but it’s like every thought I have is just making it worse.”

She tilted her head, voice gentle. “Max, you’ve been incredible all season. Everyone can see how much you’ve given, but right now… it’s okay to be nervous. It just means you care.”

His eyes met hers, searching, almost as if he wanted to believe her. “But what if I fail?”

She sighed softly, offering him a warm smile. “Then you get back up and try again, just like you always do. And no matter what, I'm by your side, I promise”

He gave a small nod, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. “Thank you, Schatje. I just… I needed to hear that.”

She grinned, voice playful. “Of course, and besides, when you win tomorrow, I can say that you were calling me the night before all cute and nervous”

Max chuckled, some of the tension leaving his expression. “If I win tomorrow, the first call I’m making is to you.”

“Good,” she replied, giving him a reassuring look. “Because I’ll be here, cheering you on. Now, get some rest, champ. You’re going to be amazing.”

For the first time, he looked like he believed her. “Thanks, Y/n. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

As the light from her phone flickered off, Y/n looked at the dark interior of the hotel room she was currently in, The only glow came from the Abu Dhabi cityscape beyond her window, casting a soft, hazy light across the room.

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

y/nsprivate has posted

liked by jimmyandsassysdad, thatoneartgirlalex and 25 others

y/nsprivate changed it up guys - ill always be a ferrari girl at heart

leosfather NO TRAITOR

-> y/nsprivate ITS FOR A GOOD CAUSE

jimmyandsassysdad never gonna understand how i got so lucky

-> y/nsprivate aww i love you

-> y/jimmyandsassysdad being world champion <<having you

-> y/nsprivate aww i love you 😭😭

-> leosfather CAP

-> y/nsprivate I HATE YOU

keekslikestospamm Y/N OMFG

-> y/nsprivate 🤷

thatoneartgirlalex NEVER SEEN YOU IN ANYTHING BUT RED BABES

-> y/nsprivate red girl at heart always❤️

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

"Y/nn." Y/ns head spun around to see where Alex was standing at the gate, coming to let her in. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she made her way over to meet Alex. She hadn't told Max she was coming, she wanted it to be a surprise if he won. The buzz of the paddock was electric, the air charged with energy, and everywhere she turned, familiar faces were moving through the crow. Y/n moved her cap lower and adjusted her sunglasses. More so for her comfort.

Alex grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug. "Kika is somewhere around, I think Pierre is running a little late." Y/n nodded uncomfortable, the tension in her body high. "Hey." Alex said, drawing Y/ns attention back to her. "Everythings fine okay, and think about the look on Max's face when he sees you."

Y/n gave her a grateful smile but was still nervous. As hard as Max had been fighting, Lando had crawled his way up the standings and it was a fight to the death.

The pair made it to the familiar garage, and Y/n felt the tension leave her body at the comfort it brought her. A few paces ahead, she spotted Charles chatting with some mechanics, throwing her a quick grin when he noticed her. After he finished what he was saying, he made his way over to the girls, planting a quick kiss on Alex's cheek.

“Nice disguise,” Charles teased, noticing her cap and sunglasses. “Max will be thrilled when he sees you.” He pulled her into a quick hug before running back off the his mechanics.

The two girls made their way over to the Alpine garage where Kika had just arrived. She was muttering something in portuguese when her eyes locked on the girls.

"Never on time." She said rolling her eyes as she pulled the pair into a hug. All three of them laughed at that.

As the three girls engaged in conversation, Y/n found her self zoning out a little.

“Still good?” Alex murmured beside her, nudging her lightly.

She nodded, steadying herself. “Yeah, all good. Just… here for Max.”

Kika squeezed her hand with a knowing smile. “Then let's make sure it stays a surprise. He’s going to be thrilled when he sees you.”

As they moved through the paddock, Y/n’s heart pounded with anticipation, mind focused on the green eyed man she had fallen deeply for.

The three walked on, their voices blending with the hum of the crowd. Y/n kept her head low, hoping the brim of her cap would be enough to keep her from running into anyone who might recognize her. But, as fate would have it, the moment she rounded a corner, she accidentally brushed shoulders with someone.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, stepping to the side, her eyes firmly on the ground.

“No worries,” came the familiar voice. It took a moment for her to register it fully, but when she did, her stomach twisted. Lando. Her heart raced as she kept her face turned away, hoping he wouldn’t notice. She could feel his gaze linger on her a second too long, like he was trying to place her.

She felt his eyes on her as she started walking away, her pulse thudding in her ears, but she willed herself not to look back.

“Y/n?” Lando’s voice followed, tentative, as though he couldn’t quite believe it. She quickened her pace, hoping the crowd would swallow her up before he got a chance to catch up. But his voice called after her again, firmer this time. “Y/n, wait!”

But she didn’t stop. Alex and Kika shared quick glances before positioning themselves beside her, subtly shielding her as they continued through the paddock. She tried to steady her breath, focusing on Max and the reason she’d come here today.

“You’re okay,” Alex whispered, leaning close, her tone comforting but firm. “He doesn’t need to be part of today.”

Kika gave her hand another squeeze, a silent reminder that she had people around her who understood. They pressed on, eventually arriving at the garage, where Y/n felt the comfort of familiarity wash over her. Lando’s voice was lost in the crowd behind her, and she took a deep breath, knowing that this moment wasn’t about the past. It was about being here, now, for Max.

The last ten minutes of the race were a blur of intensity. Max and Lando were neck-and-neck, battling it out on the track like two lions. Every overtake and every turn had the crowd on their feet, and the tension was palpable. Y/n felt her pulse pounding in sync with the roaring engines, each corner threatening to shift the race's outcome. Her hands were clasped tightly, white-knuckled as she watched the screen, Alex and Kika mirroring her tension beside her.

“Come on, Max,” she whispered, her eyes glued to the screen as the cars hit the final lap. Lando had pulled slightly ahead on the last corner, but Max was right on his tail.

The team radios crackled with updates, and she caught snippets of Max’s voice, tense but determined. He was pushing the car to its limits, using every ounce of focus to close the gap between him and Lando. She knew he could feel it, the weight of the championship riding on his next move.

Max’s car edged closer, drafting behind Lando to reduce the air resistance as they hurtled down the straightaway. The gap between them was shrinking. Just as they approached the final few turns, Max made his move, diving down the inside, daringly close to the wall.

The crowd erupted as he edged past Lando, his car taking the lead by the narrowest margin. It was heart-stopping, and for a brief moment, Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as she watched, hardly daring to blink.

“Come on, come on,” Alex murmured beside her, her hands gripping Y/n’s arm.

Max’s car crossed the final corner in front, accelerating down the home stretch with Lando mere inches behind him. It was all or nothing. Y/n held her breath, the crowd’s roar filling her ears as Max’s car hurtled toward the finish line.

“Max Verstappen wins the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix and the World Championship!” The commentator’s voice rang out, echoed by cheers and applause from every corner of the circuit. Max had done it. He’d crossed the line first.

Y/n’s vision blurred with tears of relief and overwhelming pride as she watched him slow down, the realization settling on his face even through his helmet as he punched the air in victory. The entire team erupted in celebration, people rushing forward, and she felt herself swept along, her heart so full she could barely contain it.

She barely registered the tears slipping down her face as she laughed, catching a glimpse of him stepping out of his car, arms raised in triumph. The crowd’s cheers were deafening, but through it all, she felt a magnetic pull, the thrill of knowing she’d be there when he turned around. She wanted to be the first face he saw when he celebrated the dream he’d just made real.

The atmosphere at the podium was electric. Max stood in the center, his face still flushed with the adrenaline and euphoria of victory, the World Champion trophy gleaming in his hands. Confetti rained down in a glittering storm as fans cheered and waved flags. Y/n watched him from the sidelines, her heart pounding with an indescribable mix of pride, relief, and love.

As he looked out over the crowd, Max’s eyes finally landed on her, hidden among the sea of people but unmistakably there. His expression softened, and in that moment, a private smile crossed his face. She raised her hand in a small wave, feeling her own grin tug at her lips despite the tears gathering in her eyes.

Max took a deep breath, lifting a bottle of champagne and twisting off the cork, sending it flying into the air. The bubbly spray erupted, drenching the mechanics nearby. Lando wiped a droplet off his cheek, unable to suppress a hint of a smile at the chaos, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed his mixed feelings.

Back at the garage, the celebratory atmosphere still buzzed with excitement, but now it felt more intimate. Max pushed through the group of mechanics and team members, his heart racing not just from the victory but from the anticipation of seeing Y/n again. As he turned a corner, he spotted her leaning against a wall, her smile brighter than the confetti that had rained down just moments ago.

“Y/n!” Max exclaimed, rushing toward her. He enveloped her in a tight embrace, lifting her slightly off the ground. The warmth of her presence was intoxicating, and he could hardly believe she had made it.

“You did it! I can’t believe you’re the World Champion!” Y/n said, her voice bubbling with joy. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks,” he replied, beaming down at her. “I couldn’t have done it without you Mijn liefje.” He leaned in closer, whispering, “You’re my lucky charm.”

They shared a tender moment, eyes locked, the world around them fading into a blur. It felt like time stood still, and all the tension from the race melted away in the warmth of their presence. In that moment, what Y/n had already been thinking was solidified, he was her endgame.

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

formula1 has posted

liked by maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc and 7, 291, 103 others

formula1 Max Verstappen is the 2024 World Champion for the 4th consecutive year in a row.

tagged: maxverstappen1

charlesleclerc 🎉🎉

redbullracing CONGRATULATIONS MAX!!

landonorris good job mate

-> user1 i just know he was in pain

user2 well earned!

user3 lando should have one

-> user4 grow up

user5 so no ones gonna talk about the way max was smiling at someone when he was no the podium

-> user6 no he was just happy

-> user7 no he was definetly looking at someone

-> user8 RIGHT!

-> user9 LOOK AT HIS RECENT POST OMG

user10 why is no one talking about the fact than Y/n Y/ln was there

-> user11 WAIT WHAT

-> user12 yeah my cousin was there an shes a HUGE y/n stan and she said she saw Y/n with Alex and Kika

-> user13 😱😱

-> user13 proof??

maxverstappen1 has posted

liked by charlesleclerc, alexandrasaintmleux and 11, 293, 293 others

maxverstappen1 FOURTH WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!! I couldn't have done it without you my love 🖤

user1 THE CAPTION IM SCREAMING

user2 WHO IS IT

charlesleclerc shes definitely giggling and kicking her feet

-> alexandrasaintmleux can confirm i just heard her scream

-> maxverstappen1 😂😂

user3 what does the black heart mean?!

-> user4 🤔🤔

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

The night was electric as Max and Y/n entered the club, the pulse of the music matching the racing rhythm still echoing in their hearts. The atmosphere was alive with celebration; lights flashed in vibrant colors, and laughter echoed off the walls. Streamers adorned the ceilings, remnants of the day’s earlier festivities, creating a glamorous backdrop for the night ahead.

Max, still riding high from his victory, squeezed Y/n’s hand as they made their way through the crowd. She felt a mix of excitement and nervousness; the energy around them was contagious. As they reached the center of the club, they were greeted by a chorus of cheers from their friends, who had gathered to celebrate his win.

“Max!” Pierre called out, raising a bottle of champagne as he waved them over. “You made it! We were starting to wonder if you’d show up!”

Max grinned, pulling Y/n closer to him. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

The group enveloped them, and Y/n felt the warmth of camaraderie wash over her. Daniel handed Max a drink, giving him a playful shove on the shoulder. “To the champion!” he shouted, and Charles raised his glass in agreement. “You earned this!”

They made their way to the dance floor, surrounded by friends and the infectious beats of the music. As they danced, it felt like the world had faded away, leaving only the two of them. Max pulled her in close, their bodies moving in sync, the rhythm of the music guiding them.

Y/n laughed as Max spun her around, her hair whipping through the air. She felt free, unburdened by the past and the weight of expectations. In that moment, all that mattered was their connection, the joy of celebrating his hard-earned victory.

“Can you believe it? You’re the World Champion!” Y/n shouted over the music, her voice filled with exhilaration.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” he replied, his eyes sparkling.

The song shifted to a slower beat, and Max wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. “Thank you for being here,” he said softly, his gaze sincere. “You really are my lucky charm.”

They swayed together, the world around them blurring into insignificance. For Y/n, it felt like the beginning of something beautiful.

As the night wore on, laughter and cheers filled the air, and the celebration continued. Y/n found herself lost in the moment, reveling in the energy of the club and the warmth of Max by her side. Her heart was full of him, she didn't think she could ever get enough.

---------

y/nsprivate has posted

liked by jimmyandsassysdad, that oneartgirlalex and 26 others

y/nsprivate the king of my heart 🖤

jimmyandsassysdad 🖤

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

just got back from a party and realised i forgot to post <3

this is prolly shit but whatever

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#f1 masterlist #formula1 #f1 series #f1 fluff #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #reputation series #repuation #max verstappen angst #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #formula 1

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ziracona · 2 years ago

Text

The Darkness really is the best song in the show.

#not musically. like as far as sheer Song goes it’s probably It Was A Shit Show or something but for like. emotion and rarity? I’ve never #ever seen someone confront that really ugly side to mental illness and it’s done so well. like yeah. it can become your identity to be ill #and you can fear losing it and it becomes a parasitic relationship that’s killing you and that’s not good and it’s hard to talk about —#almost impossible. because like. you /know/ how bad ‘what if without this I’m not interesting anymore and people have no reason to worry so #they have no reason to care about me’ is as a statement like that’s fucked up to think and feel. but it’s also not malicious or really you #it’s a part of being sick and people who haven’t been don’t understand it which makes it scary to try to confront and best because it makes #you sound so horrible—it makes you sound horrible to /yourself/ and that makes it hard even for you to confront it alone because you have to #admit it to kill it. I got so sick when I was dying of an ED and my brain got so fucked I began to believe with intense primal terror that #it had become so much of my identity nobody would care about me without it. which makes no sense but to a dying addicted head it did. and #I’ve never seen someone confront and discuss that ugliness so openly or so sympathetically at the same time. the line ‘for so many years ive #used the Darkness to feel. But now there are things in my life that are actually real. I’ve got to make a choice darling don’t ask me why.#But will I have the strength? to tell the darkness…goodbye…’ I cry.#it applies to a lot under that. to trauma associated with social neurodivergence where you learn to fear feeling happy as a kid because you #get loud or too much or things you don’t understand enough to not do them so the only way to be safe from repercussions is to not /be/ happy #in the first place. it applies to having clinical depression you’ve survived alone since childhood and your way of making it through life is #so intrinsically tied to coping with depression you have no idea what you’d be without it. it’s learned self-hatred of a cluster B needing #to hate themself to keep back the world flooding them when they feel at risk by doing it first #and it’s not pretty and it’s not easy but it is so fucking important people admit this is such a fucking common thing with serious mental #illness. how are we to get through self hatred and hopelessness and despair if we can’t even see the things we think are too bad to face are #as common a symptom as cutting? and just as curable and forgivable and not representative of who we are #god I love that song #crazy ex-girlfriend

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chrissvalentine · 1 month ago

Note

matt and singer reader. Where they are filming a car video with her where they asked fans to send in questions for her and someone puts “ give me a chance y/n ill treat you way better than matt😍” reader jokingly says “hit me up” matt gets mad and ignores her for the rest of the video. When they get home they make up and cuddle

:: singer!reader x jealous!matt jealously

after yours and matt’s soft launch, the triplets realized that they could finally include you in a car video.

it was a q&a, nick reading the questions as you, matt, and chris answered with some arguments here and there.

nick read a few questions off of his phone throughout the video.

the questions mostly consisted of things like ‘when are you releasing your album?’ and ‘what is being on tour like? and ‘what’s your favorite song of yours?’

but eventually, nick read out a question that shifted the cars atmosphere from laughing and cracking jokes to a quieter, more serious atmosphere

‘give me a chance y/n, i would treat you so much better than matt does.’ nick read with a goofy smile.

you responded jokingly before even thinking. “hit me up!”

matt’s smile faltered when nick read that question and hears your response. he doesn’t know why the question pisses him off so much. it’s just a fan. you were his girlfriend, but that didn’t stop the jealousy and annoyance from building in his chest.

matt is practically silent for the rest of the video unless he needs to answer a question. he doesn’t crack as many jokes like usual, and he doesn’t look over at you as much like he always does.

he didn’t want you to see that he was upset, but he was, and it was evident. he didn’t look at you once on the ride home.

matt had to admit, it took a surprising amount of willpower to not have his hand on yours as he usually does while driving.

when you all finally arrive at home, matt didn’t even wait for you to get out of the car. he just got out, shut the door, and made his way inside.

matt let out a hard huff of a sigh as he threw himself onto his bed, one arm across his eyes. he knew he was acting childish, he was fully aware of it. but right now he didn’t care. he was annoyed, jealous, and upset, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

it only took a few minutes for you to come into the house. he heard the door shut, and soft, almost quiet footsteps walking down the hallway.

as you approached his open bedroom door, he didn’t turn to look at you. he just stayed still, lying down on his bed.

“hi baby,” you spoke softly as you lowered yourself onto the bed with him. you ran your fingers through his hair while waiting for a response.

matt tried to not give in, but after just a few moments he couldn’t take it anymore. he moved his arm, dropping onto his chest before his eyes flickered open. he stared up at the ceiling for a moment before he glanced over at you.

he didn’t say anything at first, just letting out another sigh. he was still feeling jealous, but he couldn’t help the way his heart softened when he looked at you.

there was a slight frown on his face, and he kept his gaze on you. he stayed silent for another moment, just looking at you before he spoke, his voice quiet.

“why’d you..” he paused, the thought leaving his mind before he spoke again, “why’d you say that in the video?” he asked, trying not to sound too jealous.

you respond confused. you knew what he was referring to, but you really didn’t think it had affected him. “baby, is that what your upset about? you know i didn’t mean it like that, right?”

“don’t say anything like that again. you know how your fans can be.” he murmured.

matt knew you didn’t really mean it like that, but he needed to make sure you understood why you can’t say things like that on the internet.

“it — it doesn’t matter if you were joking or not, people are crazy and will take anything you say and use it against you.”

you had just realized he was trying to protect you.

“okay, i understand. i’m sorry, we can ask nick to cut it out of the video right?” you said with an apologetic look on your face.

“don’t apologize baby. you didn’t know. it’s okay, i promise. i’ll make sure nick takes it out.” he reassures.

the annoyance and jealously he was feeling was quickly being replaced by a sense of exhaustion and fatigue. he raised his hand off his chest, motioning for you come closer. he just wanted you close to him even if he was still a little upset with you.

“c’mere,” he spoke quietly, patting his chest.

matt shifted slightly, making more room for you on his chest. he glanced between your eyes before he pulled you onto his chest.

matt immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer to him. he pressed closer to you as he buried his head into your shoulder.

he wasn’t saying anything, just taking a few moments to breathe in your scent.

his arms were tight around you, he let out a deep breath against your neck, burying his head farther into your shoulder.

“mine,” he muttered quietly against your skin. “all mine.”

→ love, jess

notes: this was way longer than expected sorry!

🏷️: @submattenthusiast @dominicfikeenthusiast @pixxiies @breesturns

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #the sturniolo triplets #✸ singer!reader

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leaderwonim · 11 months ago

Text

𓇻 I’M A FEMINIST, OBVIOUSLY, BUT I WOULDN’T REALLY MIND HIM SAVING ME.

▸ PAIRING.. class president!yang jungwon x outcast!fem!reader

▸ SYNP. jang y/n hated yang jungwon. perfect, loved by everybody, class president yang jungwon. people only liked him because he was a man and he was charismatic. however, when she’s being picked on by the girls at school, yang jungwon comes to her rescue, and weirdly, she didn’t mind it?

▸ GENRE. enemies to lovers (it’s one sided though, yn just hates jw😭) angst, mentions of bullying, mentions of sexism, fluff

author’s note: this is based off of olivia rodrigo’s unreleased song! This was honestly so much fun to write and it took me about 3 days cause I fell violently ILL like the day after I started writing😭 As usual, REBLOGS and COMMENTS are so greatly appreciated <33

Jang Y/N was what people called an outcast. Although she was pretty and had the grades, she heavily disliked half of her class, which in turn, didn’t exactly make her very popular.

“I hate him.” She says as she shoves a spoonful of rice into her mouth. Her only friend was her sister, Wonyoung, who told her that she shouldn’t be so negative all the time.

“Who, Jungwon?” Wonyoung asks, frowning. “Yah Y/N, you can’t hate him forever. He’s nothing but nice to you.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N mumbles angrily, putting away her lunch. “Wonyo, people only like him because he’s a man who can say a few charming words. He smiles and at least half of our class falls onto their knees or something.”

Wonyoung chokes at her sister’s comparison, and can’t help but let out a little laugh. “I’m just saying Y/nie, you can’t just despise him because he seems perfect to the naked eye. In fact, I say become friends with him. It’ll be good for you.”

Y/N shuts down the idea right away, much to Wonyoung’s dismay.

“I am just saying,” Wonyoung stands up, finished with her lunch. “I mean, don’t you find it sad? That you eat lunch everyday with your sister instead of eating with friends or a boyfriend?”

“No,” Y/N says, frowning. “I like eating lunch with you Wonyo.”

“Hm, I guess.”

The Jang sisters lock arms, strolling to their next class. They miss the longing glance that Yang Jungwon sends towards Y/N’s direction, already too far gone into the Decelis Academy hallway.

‏‏‎ ‎

Unfortunately for Y/N, she had her leadership class with Jungwon, where they would discuss things like student politics and how to better the school so that Decelis could stay at its rightful place of number one on private academy rankings.

It was stupid, Y/N thought, Decelis shouldn’t even be close to number one, this school was filled with a bunch of spoilt children who were obsessed with the idea of money and power.

“Is there a problem, Miss. Jang?” The teacher asks, noticing the little scoffs she was adding each time Jungwon spoke about an initiative he wanted to add.

“No,” Y/N shrugs. “I just think Yang Jungwon’s new initiative is just a waste of time. It's not going to solve anything.”

Jungwon smirks, something that Y/N so desperately wants to wipe the floor with. “Y/N, always the critic of my ideas. Very well, let’s hear your brilliant solution.”

She rolls her eyes. Of course Yang Jungwon wanted to pretend to remain civil, if he had blown up on her, it would’ve tarnish his reputation, and Yang Jungwon would be nothing without his reputation, right?

“Instead of your one-size-fits-all approach method, we need personalized mentorship programs. Each student faces unique challenges, and your initiative doesn't address that.”

Jungwon smiles. “Well I suppose you’re right. But perhaps if you actually joined the initiative, you'd understand its effectiveness.”

Y/N grits her teeth, not enjoying how much Yang Jungwon was enjoying this. “Oh, right, because following the herd blindly is the key to success? Unlike half of Decelis’ population, I prefer independent thinking.”

The boy leans closer in, face almost touching the girl. “Sometimes collaboration is the key to progress, Y/N. Try it sometime.”

The two students make eye contact until Y/N breaks, finally pulling her eyes away.

“As usual, Yang Jungwon always has to be right.” She mumbles under her breath. “God, please save me from being in this class any longer,”

‏‏‎ ‎

Y/N throws her backpack on the floor as soon as she steps into her house, not caring about the expensive computer her grandmother had bought her last Christmas that was stuffed inside. Her parents were in the kitchen, discussing something in hushed whispers, almost as if it was top secret.

Always being the curious child, she leans onto the wall that separated the living room and kitchen, trying to make out what the topic was about.

“I’m just worried honey,” she can hear her mom say as her dad rubs her back comfortingly. “Y/N doesn’t have a lot of friends at that school, Wonyoung told me about it. You know she only hangs out with her sister and that’s it?”

“I mean, is it really that bad that she only hangs out with Wonyoung? She’s always been quiet, I think we’ve just got to respect that. She’s an excellent student anyway, there’s no harm in having little friends.”

Although her parents truly just wanted the best for her, Y/N felt like a complete loser by how they were going about it.

She quickly rushed to her room, biting her lip in annoyance at how everybody seemed to have an opinion about her life. She was happy with how it was going, and she didn’t care that her only friend was her sister, Wonyoung was a sweetheart and lived with her, it was a built in best friend for life.

“Just you wait,” Y/N huffs, sharpening her pencil. “I’m gonna go to university, leave this place, and I won’t have to hear about any of these kids ever again.”

‏‏‎

Y/N woke up the next day with a red eye, probably from crying last night despite telling herself she didn’t care.

She cared, a lot.

Romanticizing being alone was fun until she realized that she was truly all alone, with no friends to lean on.

“Is that Jang Y/N?”

Park Jiwon. The devil herself. She was evil as she was pretty, and she had no problem making Y/N’s life a living hell.

“Where’s Wonyoung? Did your own sister finally get tired of you?” Her little group of minions laugh as if it was the funniest thing ever, and Y/N tries and stops herself from giving them all a swing to the face.

“No, but I’m sure you’re used to that feeling, right Jiwon?”

“Oh you little b—”

“Jiwon, you can’t hit her! You’ll get suspended and it’ll go on your permanent record.” Her friend says, which makes the girl straighten up right away.

“You’re lucky Jang,” the girl snarls. “But yah, what were you thinking? Talking back to Jungwon? He’s so smart and handsome, dedicating his time to make initiatives for the school. You should be more grateful.”

She and her minions get so close that they practically push Y/N back onto the locker, suffocating her with their glares.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” The voice of Jungwon doesn’t go unnoticed by a single girl, who, all but Y/N, straighten up their hair when they realize he’s behind them.

“We’re just talking, right Y/N?” Jiwon says, pinching onto the girl tightly.

“Really? It doesn’t seem like it.” Jungwon rolls his eyes. “Park Jiwon, don’t make me give you detention for picking on other students. It doesn’t make you attractive.”

The girl gasps, immediately letting Y/N go as her face heats up in embarrassment.

“I wasn’t—”

“Just go.” With one point of a finger, Yang Jungwon got Park Jiwon and her minions out of the hallway, leaving Y/N and him alone.

“You okay?” He asks her, eyes concerned.

“Thank you,” she breathes out. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Why didn’t I?” He raises his eyebrows. “You were getting picked on.”

“Well, I’m not the nicest to you.” The girl says, suddenly embarrassed. “At all, actually. So thank you Jungwon, really.”

“Ah,” the boy smiles. “It’s nothing. I don’t hate you if that’s what you think, I think you have a brilliant mind just like me.”

And for the first time since she’s stepped into the school, Jang Y/N finds herself liking Yang Jungwon, and not just for his looks.

‏‏‎

“Y/N!” The loud voice of Yang Jungwon doesn’t go by Wonyoung, who gives her sister a smirk as she slightly pushes back her shoulder.

“Wonder why he’s coming,” she teases, which makes Y/N scrunch up her nose in annoyance.

“Would you like to come with me to this new bread place?” He asks, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. “Sorry—I ran all the way from the cabinet office to here.”

“It’s alright,” Y/N giggles, which makes Wonyoung’s eyes pop out of their sockets because she swears she never heard that sound coming from her sister’s mouth before. “I’d love to Jungwon.”

“Great! I’ll uh.. I’ll see you later!”

Wonyoung turns to face Y/N as soon as Jungwon leaves, giving her the biggest grin ever. “What was that?!”

“Let’s just say, I don’t hate Yang Jungwon anymore.” Y/N smiles, laughing as she watches Wonyoung’s jaw practically drop to the ground.

‏‏‎

“It’s cold, isn’t it?” Jungwon says as he and Y/N walk to the new bread place.

“Yes,” Y/N puffs out, “I should’ve brought a jacket.”

Before she knew it, Jungwon already takes off his jacket and wraps it around the girl’s shoulder.

“Jungwon,” she whines, “then you’ll be cold!”

“It’s alright really!” He laughs, giving her a big smile. “I’m practically invincible to cold. Was just asking because you seemed to be freezing.”

“You’re sweet,” she says, looking down at her feet. “I feel really guilty for trying to one up up all the time or prove you wrong. I just hate it, you know?”

“Hate what?”

“You might not realize it but a lot of people don’t want to hear what I say because I’m a woman, and that’s it. Just because I’m a woman. Like sometimes, I have ideas just as brilliant and changing as yours, but everybody says I’m complaining and over analyzing. When you say it, with your handsome face and clear voice, everybody’s suddenly entranced, and they’re so interested in school politics.”

“So you think I’m handsome?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, pushing back Jungwon slightly as he laughs.

“I’m kidding, Y/N. I know what you mean now. I’m sorry that I can’t change how people view and perceive things, but I want you to know that I listen to your ideas, that I care. You might not realize this either but whenever you’re talking, I always listen. Like your initiative about bringing better programs into the school, I listened through the whole thing because I just—I’m inlove with the way you articulate things and the way you speak. If I was half as good at speaking my mind like you were, I’d be unstoppable. You’re a great person, Y/N, and I’m so glad I’m able to see that.”

The way Yang Jungwon speaks about her makes Y/N want to cry and smother him in a hug, which she does a second later by bringing him into a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you Jungwon.” She says, face in his neck. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He feels like he’s out of breath by how close the two of them were, his heartbeat racing by each second that passed. “I’d do anything for you, Y/N.”

‏‏‎

“Hey!” Y/N is practically used to seeing Yang Jungwon come up to her everyday now, the two even spending lunch together every two days.

“What’s up Yang?” She says, noticing a packet of papers in his hand.

“You know your feedback on my initiative? Your personalized mentorship program idea! The headmaster really liked it and he’s implementing it starting next semester with your name as the credit on it!”

Y/N’s eyes widen in joy, shrieking as her hands unconsciously come in contact with Jungwon’s, the two holding both of each other’s hands tightly as they jumped in happiness.

“You’re amazing Yang Jungwon!” She says giddily, “you really are.”

The two of them stop to stare at one another for a brief second before Jungwon finds himself leaning in, closing the gap between their lips.

When they pull away, the smiles on their faces never fades, Jungwon’s dimple ever so prominent.

“I love you,” Y/N breathes out. “My wonderful class president.”

And although Y/N is a feminist, obviously, she wouldn’t mind a man like Yang Jungwon saving her, for he taught her what love was like, and that she should never ever settle for less.

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nmakii · 9 months ago

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‘Can I ask you to do something about Alastor×reader? About y/n being a modern girl (2023-2024), and she often has strange gestures or words towards Alastor. One time she talked to him in modern language, making him confused and very curious. (You can expand the situation as you like, sorry my English is not very good)’

NEW IS ALWAYS BETTER!

— alastor x modern!reader (platonic or romantic!)

— alastor calls reader “good girl” so mostly fem!coded

— I WROTE THIS AND THEN IT GOT DELETED I MIGHT KMS.

alastor gets slangs that are common such as LOL, WTF, IDK but doesn’t get some that aren’t as common like LMFAO, IDRC, or WTAF since they’re just making them longer, so it’s quite useless…

he also doesn’t quite get shortcuts for words. one time you left him a note “lol brb rq imma b back in like 20 min. j gon pick smt up” most of it was honestly gibberish to him, but at the very least, he understood you’ll be back in 20 minutes.

gets really angry when you say things like “stop reaching, gooner. you’re just pissed that you’re a beta.” because; one, you’re blatantly disrespecting the radio demon and telling him to shut up. and two, he doesn’t get what any of that meant. what’s a gooner?

also gets annoyed often when you start singing songs like “i’m the alpha, i’m the leader” or “sticking out your gyatt for the rizzler” because, it’s a reflection on modern society and how music quality in modern times have plummeted significantly.

what happened to those beautiful songs such as “the man i love”? has it been replaced by this rizzler nonsense??? honestly, you’re giving alastor more and more reasons to dislike modernity… you’re lucky he finds your company enjoyable

in a desperate attempt to connect with you, he asked angel about your humor, hoping he’d understand. alastor knows that if anything, velvette would know. but, he’d rather get beaten by lucifer than ask the vees for help…

sadly for him, angel is just as confused. although, he at least knew what this alpha bullshit was, vaguely explaining furries and the alpha-beta-omegaverse to him…

you were in the hotel den, scrolling on social media as alastor walked in. “s/o, be a dear and fetch me some chicken breasts from the butcher, would you? i’d like to prepare something for tonight’s dinner.” alastor smiled

“hmm… nah. go do it yourself, furry” you giggled brattishly. “hahah… what did you call me?” alastor asked sternly, his face now close with yours, antlers increasing only slightly in size. “ah…” you stuttered.

alastor was never this mad when you said stuff like that, what was so different today? maybe he was in a bad mood? “ah… ill get it…” you conceded, using your hands to lightly push alastor away, lest he decides you’ll be for dinner…………

alastor snickered before patting you on the head. “good girl. don’t call me that again, this old dog can still learn new tricks, y’know?” he teasingly sang out. “huh?” you asked. “did you learn what a furry is?” you bit your lip, holding back your laughter.

“indeed, i did. horrifying that you’d think i would indulge in such hobbies…” he sighed, looking a little uncomfortable through his stressed smile. “what..? i don’t think you’re a furry, alastor. it’s not that deep. furry is just something that i used to laugh about with my friends back on earth.” you shallowly laughed, copying his actions by rubbing his hair.

he has to admit, that little mistranslation was a little funny looking back on it. but, he is a little disheartened that he got you scared over nothing. you were just having your fun and he got all pissed off. he’d definitely try to instead ask you about your slang as to prevent such a thing again…

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hasbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hasbin hotel

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marcyvamp1re-blog · 1 month ago

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I’m not sure if this is where requests go, but can you do a platonic!yandere! Charles Xavier and Magneto with child reader? Maybe she’s around 13-14. She’s a decently strong mutant who can control shadows and has similar powers as Raven from DC? I don’t see a lot of platonic Charles and magneto. Maybe some headcanons and small snippets? Idk. Thank you!

THE SONG OF THE RAVEN.

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Charles Xavier x Raven! Fem!reader x Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr. (Platonic Fic)

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

warnings ⸺ mdni! Dark themes, violence/death, blood, insolation, invasion of privacy, scars, delusion, Angst, ¿OOC Xavier and Magneto? Idk, fights, Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Gaslight, Mental Illness, Corruption, Isolation, Paranoia, Manipulation.

sinopsis ⸺ A young girl caught between two worlds: the war of a man obsessed with a cause and another who has a completely opposing vision. She desperately seeks to escape the fate that both are trying to impose on her. Amidst silent dinners and celebrations she never wanted, a solitary raven watches her from the shadows, a symbol of the freedom that always seems just out of reach.

A/N ── English is not my first language—Spanish — I didn’t know if you wanted me to do it together or separately. Just send me a message and I’ll make another one for you.

Yandere Charles Xavier who... met you in a disturbing and violent way, a storm of chaos surrounding you as you remained expressionless on the threshold of his door. The contrast between your cold determination and the horror of the blood covering you fascinated him immediately. He felt in you an internal storm as powerful as the one raging outside, a repressed power that he needed to comprehend and, more importantly, contain. The way the red gem on your forehead gleamed with darkness only intensified his desire to guide you, to be the only one capable of unleashing your true potential... to control you.

Yandere Charles Xavier who... perceives the fear in the hearts of those around you. He knows that the students and the other X-Men watch you cautiously, whispering about the dark energy that emanates from you, the shadow that always seems to follow you. But for him, that darkness is what makes you so fascinating, so special. While others retreat, Xavier moves closer. He uses his powers to silence those murmurs before they affect you, convinced that no one else, except him, can see the beauty in what you truly are. Every time his thoughts touch your mind, he feels your confusion, your internal struggle with the dark power within you. And that only reinforces his desire to keep you close, to have you trust only him.

Yandere Charles Xavier who... insists on training you personally. He does not trust that anyone else understands the depth of your abilities as he does. His training sessions are intense, his mind enveloping yours as he guides you through the darkest corners of your powers. He assures you that only he can help you control it, to master it, and with each passing day, you feel more bound to his presence. You feel him, always in your mind, always near, watching you even when you think you are alone. Sometimes you wonder if he is protecting you or if he is caging something within you that he only wants to possess. But you dismiss those thoughts because, after all, he was the only one who took you in despite everything.

Yandere Charles Xavier who... obsessively cares for your well-being, to the point of seeing you as a daughter who needs to be watched at all times. He provides you with an isolated room, away from the other students, a place where you can be "safe," although you feel it is more like a prison disguised as protection. Every time you leave your room, his eyes seem to follow you, and his words are always filled with care: “It’s for your own good. I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed by the weight of your power.” But in his voice, there is always something more, a need to keep you safe... safe only for him.

Yandere Charles Xavier who... knows he cannot allow the world to harm you, and in his twisted mind, that justifies any invasion, any manipulation. He follows you in dreams, watches over you through his powers even while you sleep, ensuring that no nightmare, no vestige of Trigon or your own darkness reaches you. Sometimes you feel his presence within your mind, a forced calm that leaves you uneasy, but when you try to confront him, he simply smiles at you kindly and says, "I just want you to be at peace, Y/N. I won’t let anything hurt you."

Yandere Charles Xavier who... sees in you more than a student. You are his creation, his project, his daughter in a sense deeper than anyone else could understand. He has shaped you, protected you from yourself and the world, and in his mind, only he has the right to be so close to your essence. Sometimes he talks to you about a future where no one else can hurt you, where he will be everything you need. And in those moments, you see in his eyes a glimmer of something disturbing, a need that goes beyond the mentor that everyone sees.

Yandere Charles Xavier who... has made the entire mansion a refuge for you, although it really feels more like a prison from which you cannot escape. The mental bond he has established with you is so strong that even if you wanted to leave, you would feel an invisible resistance. Charles has intertwined his mind with yours in such a way that it is impossible for you to imagine a world without him, and that dependence is exactly what he has desired all along. Because in his vision, absolute control over you is not something to be feared, but a demonstration of his love and care.

Yandere Charles Xavier who... knows that the dark power dwelling within you could destroy the world if not contained, and yet, he increasingly feels tempted to unleash it, to see you in your purest, most chaotic form. But he would only do it if that means he will be the only one capable of guiding you, of touching that part of you that no one else should know. The thought of losing you or your power at the hands of another is unbearable, and that leads him to make increasingly extreme decisions, justifying his actions as if they were for your own good. For Xavier, you are more than a powerful mutant. You are the center of his world, the living manifestation of everything he fears and everything he desires.

Yandere Charles Xavier who... begins to see with you the same dark and melancholic series that seem to attract you, those that reflect your own internal struggle. The hours you spend together in the mansion's living room are an attempt to understand you more deeply, and although the plots are often laden with fatalism and sadness, Charles watches them carefully, always studying your reactions. “I wonder if you see anything of yourself in these characters,” he comments one night, as a gloomy episode unfolds on the screen. He says it in a casual tone, but his interest is deeper, always trying to unravel the corners of your mind. You allow yourself a slight smile, a reflection of the dark sarcasm that sometimes dominates you. Charles remains silent, but his mind works frantically. He cannot help but feel fascinated, even more connected to you, by that dark side you share through the screen, knowing that only he can help you confront it… and control it.

Yandere Charles Xavier who... tensed the first time you spoke of Trigon. You mentioned him with a chilling calm, explaining how your destiny, according to your mother, was marked by his shadow. “He is my father,” you said one day in one of your mental sessions, while you were both immersed in that peaceful void that Xavier created for you. “And he is also my curse.” The words resonated in his mind with a weight he could not ignore. Charles felt a dull anger in the depths of his being, a resentment he did not expect toward an entity he had never known. Trigon. That malignant presence that had tried to claim you before he found you. "You are not a curse, my child" he replied, his voice firmer than usual, trying to maintain his composure while feeling something dark stir within him. “You are not your father, nor the destiny imposed on you. You are much more than they will ever understand.”

Yandere Charles Xavier who... felt something dangerous when you mentioned your mother and your dimension, Azarath. It was a calm conversation at first, you talking about her with a mix of nostalgia and sadness, a mother who had tried to protect you, but also one who had allowed Trigon to leave his mark on you. Charles listened in silence, but with each word you spoke about her, he felt a growing resentment. She had brought you into this world of darkness, a girl who did not deserve to be subjected to that cursed fate, and no matter how hard she tried to protect you, she was the one who deliberately delivered you and put you at the mercy of Trigon. "She didn't really understand you, Y/N," Charles said one day, his voice laden with careful control, fearing to say something that would upset you, but with a latent fury that only you could perceive if you looked closely. “Not like I do. Not like those who truly want what is best for you.”

Yandere Charles Xavier who... organized a small celebration on your fourteenth birthday, a day that should have been joyful, but he knew meant something very different for you. He watched your empty expression, your indifference toward the candles, the few gifts the students dared to give you. You discreetly stepped away from the celebration, seeking solitude. Charles followed you, his chair moving silently to the corner where you had taken refuge, away from the bustle. “I’m not celebrating this day, Charles,” you said, your voice laden with a coldness he could not ignore. “My birth was a curse. This day, in the future, will be the downfall of all humans in this dimension.” His eyes watched you with a mix of compassion and pain. The feeling of helplessness briefly overwhelmed him, but it was replaced with a fierce determination. “No, Y/N. It was not a curse,” he replied, moving closer. “Your birth is the arrival of a messiah to the earth, and nothing that happens will change my mind. You are free to be whoever you want to be, and I will help you see that. I… will always be here to remind you.” His warm, paternal hand touched yours, trying to make those words penetrate the darkest corner of your mind. “You are my daughter, and no destiny imposed by a foolish demon can change that. So let’s celebrate.”

Yandere Charles Xavier who... felt a mix of pride and relief as he saw how, year after year, you remained true to the X-Men, but more importantly, true to him. While the other students grew, forming deep friendships and even romances, you remained distant, always the solitary shadow doing what was necessary but not truly connecting with others. Charles noticed this, and although he pretended to worry about your loneliness, deep in his heart, he felt satisfied. He knew you had remained intact, far from the influences that could have pulled you away from his control. In his mind, that distance was proof of his success, of how he had shaped you to depend only on him.

Yandere Charles Xavier who... as he aged, felt pride every time he looked at you and saw that you remained his daughter, his creation. You were no longer the teenager who arrived at the mansion covered in blood and viscera, but you still did not allow anyone to affect you deeply. “You have grown so much,” he told you one afternoon, his voice soft but laden with a possessive love that had always been present. “Not just as an X-Men, but as a person. You have given me more than I could ever imagine. And I thank you… for staying by my side.” His eyes, now older, more tired, shone with pride that bordered on obsession. He knew you had overcome your demons, but he also knew it was because of him. And as long as he could keep you close, away from any other influence, he would be happy.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... found you in a dark alley after an uncontrollable explosion of power had left devastation around you. Your emotions had exploded after your arrival from Azarath, and Erik, seeing you surrounded by shadows, immediately felt a connection. “You are a mutant,” he affirmed, recognizing the immense power within you. But as he saw you more closely, his motivations began to mix. At first, he saw you as a tool for his cause, but the fragility of your emotions awakened in him a deep concern.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... took you under his protection with an obsessive intensity. Although he trained you hard, his desire for control was evident, convinced that only he could help you channel your power. “You are stronger than you think,” he would tell you in moments of greatest despair, but what he truly longed for was to mold you into someone who shared his struggle. For him, your potential was unlimited, but also a source of fear.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... obsessed over seeing you in the white suit you had brought from Azarath, interpreting it as a symbol of your purity. However, there was a dark desire within him: to see you covered in red, a color that for him represented fury, destiny, and his cause. Although his exterior seemed serene, in his mind, Erik struggled against the growing need to possess you, to protect you not only from others but from yourself.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... felt trapped between the desire to see you become a warrior and his paternal instinct that pushed him to protect you. Your demonic lineage generated both fear and admiration in him, and every time you showed signs of rejecting the path he had laid out for you, his frustration grew. “You can’t escape what you are,” he would tell you, although he knew those words hurt you deeply. What he didn’t understand was that your internal struggle went far beyond the war between mutants and humans.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... tried to isolate you from others, especially from those who showed you any kindness, like Charles. “They don’t understand you, kid” he warns you, trying to sow doubt in your mind. But deep down, Erik feared that others could offer you the balance that he, in his obsession, denied you.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... wakes in the middle of the night to hear your frightened whispers. He knew you had nightmares, but he could not stand to see you in such a state of vulnerability. Not knowing how to comfort you without seeming weak, he stayed by your side, watching your tormented expressions. In the end, he would gently wake you, murmuring, “Nothing will happen to you while I’m here.” However, his need for control grew every time he saw you affected. He couldn’t bear the thought that something, not even in your dreams, could hurt you.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... is surprised the first time he finds you watching a romantic series. “Why are you wasting your time with that?” he asks you, disdainful at first. However, over time, he begins to tolerate it only because he sees you more relaxed. He doesn’t admit it, but he secretly watches you, intrigued by how you can find peace in something so far removed from his reality. Although he despises those stories, he starts to buy them for you in an attempt to keep you entertained and close to him.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... begins to get angry when he notices that you are becoming friends with Pietro Maximoff. He is deeply bothered by the closeness you develop with his son, as he fears that his influence will pull you away from him. “Pietro is unstable,” he warns you, trying to sow doubt in your mind. But you can’t help feeling freer with Pietro, who understands your desire to escape better. Every time Erik sees Pietro make you laugh or when he talks to you about the freedom he feels when he runs, Erik becomes increasingly jealous, wishing to control every aspect of your life.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... becomes furious every time you escape. Even though you try to do it discreetly, he always notices and takes it as a personal betrayal. “Where do you think you can go without me?” he asks you when he finds you, his voice filled with a mix of disappointment and possessiveness. Erik justifies himself by telling you that he only wants to protect you from the dangers of the outside world, but the truth is he cannot stand the thought of losing control over you. Every time you return, he locks you further in his world, believing he will keep you safe.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... listens carefully when you talk to him about Azarath and your father, although his expression hardens at the mention of Trigon. “Your father has no power here,” he assures you, as if his words could ward off the danger he represents. However, he cannot help but compare himself to Trigon in his mind. His desire to protect you intertwines with a dark satisfaction: he is the one who has pulled you from that world. Still, his disdain for the demonic seeps into his words, sometimes making you feel that Erik does not understand the depth of your internal conflict.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... at first gets annoyed when you refer to him as your mentor instead of your father. For Erik, the relationships of power and control are clear, and your resistance to see him in a paternal role confuses him. “I care for you as if you were my own daughter,” he says, trying to soften his tone, although what he really wants is for you to feel more dependent on him. However, little by little, he realizes that being your mentor also gives him a position of influence, shaping you in his way. And although he does not admit it, sometimes he would prefer that you did not see him as a father, as his feelings toward you become increasingly complex.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... becomes irritated when he sees you seek comfort in other mutants or in your memories of Azarath when you feel alone. For him, those connections are a threat, as he fears that any bond outside his influence will lead you to distance yourself from him. “They don’t understand what you can become,” he tells you, convinced that he is the only one who can help you reach your true potential. But every time he sees you embrace your past or connect with others, the need to isolate you intensifies.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... sometimes struggles with the desire to let you go and allow you to be independent, but that thought consumes him with jealousy. Every time you show glimpses of autonomy, his possessiveness increases. Although he respects your strength, his need to protect and control puts you in a constant cycle of tension. “You will always need my guidance,” he assures you, convinced that his presence in your life is indispensable. However, he does not realize that, despite his obsession with keeping you close, you see him only as a teacher, not as the omnipresent figure he aspires to be.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... at first saw you as a key piece in his fight for mutant supremacy. He trained you hard, wanting you to be his perfect weapon against humans. But over time, something changed. He no longer cared if you fought in his war; he wanted you to be his daughter. Now, instead of training you in combat, he teaches you to control your powers in ways that, according to him, will only make you stronger, but without putting you in danger. “You don’t need to risk yourself for a cause that no longer makes sense to you,” he tells you, ignoring your own desires to fight or make your own decisions. He only cares about keeping you close, protected, and under his control. He is no longer interested in the war; his only obsession is to keep you in his life, away from any conflict that could take you away from him.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... has become addicted to the moments when he can feign paternal normality with you, like the dinners he organizes almost every night. He knows that his presence makes you uncomfortable, especially when he watches you with an intensity that makes you nervous, but for him, it is a ritual that reinforces the connection he believes he has with you. Every time you try to avoid those moments, he insists: “It’s important that we have dinner together, as a family.” Although his attempts to create a family atmosphere feel forced, you stay because you feel you have no other option. Every dinner is laden with awkward silences and glances that make you feel like you are under a microscope.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... is terrified to witness, for the first time, how Trigon attempts to possess you. It was an unexpected and terrifying moment, one that left him powerless in the face of a force he could not control with his magnetism. He watched you struggle against the influence of your demonic father, and for the first time in a long time, Erik felt a fear he had not felt since childhood: the fear of losing you, but in a much darker way than he had ever anticipated. When you managed to resist the possession, Erik took you by the shoulders, his eyes filled with a mix of panic and fury: “I won’t let that monster take you. Never.” Since then, he has redoubled his efforts to keep you close and under control, looking for any way to prevent Trigon from attempting something similar again, even if that means isolating you even more from the outside world.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... has never understood why you are reluctant to celebrate your birthday. For him, celebrations are important because they reinforce the idea of family and unity. But you have always avoided Erik marking that date, and each year you try to spend the day in silence or distracted by anything else. Despite your resistance, Erik always finds a way to get you a gift or prepare something special, even though he knows it makes you uncomfortable. “No matter what you think, this day is important,” he insists, ignoring your wishes. For him, celebrating your birthday is not just a symbolic gesture; it is an affirmation that you belong to him and that, even if you reject it, you cannot escape his influence or control.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who...feels increasingly obsessed with the idea of having a perfect family. Although at first he saw you as an ally in his war, now he sees you more as his daughter and less as a warrior. Every time you mention the possibility of fighting for mutants or exploring the outside world, he cuts you off with cold determination: “Your place is here with me. You no longer need to prove anything to anyone.” This only increases your frustration, but Erik seems more than willing to do anything to prevent you from exposing yourself to danger, even if it means cutting all your external connections.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... watches every movement of Y/N as she trains with her powers, controlling shadows with impressive skill, his eyes burning with a mix of pride and possession. Every time she makes progress in her control of her powers, he feels his own purpose renewed: to protect her from a world that does not understand her. He feels jealous of the attention she gives to Charles, but at the same time, he knows he needs her to see him as a paternal figure as well.

Yandere! Charles Xavier who... takes her to therapy sessions to help her cope with her nightmares, creating a warm and welcoming environment. His approach is more understanding and emotional, and although he feels threatened by Erik's intensity, he strives to be the father that Y/N needs, even if it means yielding in some aspects to Erik's demands.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... cannot stand to see Y/N go on a mission with Charles or the other mutants. Although he knows it is part of her training, his protective instinct kicks in, and his scheming mind seeks ways to dissuade her. When he finds her talking to Charles about the mission, his voice hardens. “It’s not safe for you to go out; you could lose control and hurt yourself,” he warns her, his tone filled with concern and jealousy.

Yandere! Charles Xavier who... tries to calm the situation, reminding Erik that Y/N needs to have experiences and learn to defend herself. “You can’t always protect her, Erik. She needs to learn to face the world.” His tone is firm, but in his eyes, there is a spark of challenge. The rivalry between them intensifies, but both know that their ultimate goal is the same: to protect their little Raven who is so lost in life.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... feels helpless when Y/N expresses her desire not to celebrate her birthday, a day that is painful for her to remember due to her own traumas. However, upon seeing how Charles plans a small celebration, his anger erupts. “Why are we celebrating a day that represents her vulnerability?” he yells, even though inside he is torn by the idea that he cannot be the only one to make her happy.

Yandere! Charles Xavier who... realizes the importance of this day for Reader and refuses to yield to Erik's doubts. “She deserves to enjoy her life, Erik. You can’t keep her in a bubble.” Although both fight for Reader's attention and affection, the celebration becomes a point of unity, combining their efforts for the well-being of the young girl.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... feels a pang of jealousy and frustration when Charles invites Y/n to the mansion to spend time with family and have dinner with the other X-Men. “Why are you bringing her here? She should be training, not sharing laughs with them,” he reproaches, his voice tense as he watches Y/n smile and interact with the others. Erik cannot help but feel excluded, fearing that by spending time with Charles and the X-Men, Y/n will drift away from him and his teachings.

Yandere! Charles Xavier who... tries to see the best in the situation, explaining to Erik that Y/n needs moments of normalcy and connection with others. “Erik, you can’t protect her from everything. It’s essential for her to learn to interact with her family and friends,” he says, trying to remain calm. However, he realizes that Charles's words only ignite Erik's anger further, who believes those moments are a dangerous distraction.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... feels even more upset when he learns that Charles is fostering a relationship between Reader and Pietro. “She doesn’t need a boyfriend, especially not that boy who will only hinder her development,” he tells him in a grave voice, raising an eyebrow at the complicity between the two. His scheming mind fills with jealousy, convinced that Pietro, with his carefree nature, could negatively influence his daughter, diverting her from the seriousness he believes her life should have.

Yandere! Charles Xavier who... tries to calm Erik, reminding him that the bond between Y/n and Pietro could be beneficial for her development. “She needs friends her age, Erik. Who better than your son? You can’t be the only one in her life,” he insists, although the tension between them feels palpable. In reality, he does this to torment Erik and make Y/N want him more.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... feels irritated when he sees Y/n wearing battle clothes that he hasn’t chosen. He hated that she dressed in that dark attire. “Why are you dressing like that? You need to be ready for battle, not for a parade,” he tells her, frowning as he sees that Charles allows Y/n to wear whatever she wants. When she appears uncomfortable with her choice, Erik feels frustrated by the lack of control he has over his surroundings. “I don’t want you to feel vulnerable,” he says with concern, but his way of expressing it is possessive and almost demanding.

Yandere! Charles Xavier who... intervenes, defending Y/n right to choose her own clothes. “She should feel comfortable and secure, Erik. Strength doesn’t just come from appearance, but from the confidence she has in herself,” he argues, trying to show him that possessiveness is not the answer. However, Erik feels overwhelmed by the desire to protect her, thinking that clothing should be an extension of that protection, not realizing that his approach may be making Y/n feel trapped.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... one night, upon seeing Y/N wake up startled from her nightmares, cannot help but feel a pang of pain. “I won’t allow them to trap you like they did me,” he murmurs, gently taking her hand. However, his possessive nature surfaces, and a flash of fear crosses his face at the thought that she might distance herself.

Yandere! Charles Xavier who... encourages her to talk about her fears, using his telepathic abilities to connect with her in those mental landscapes. “You are not alone, my girl. We are here for you,” he tells her, his voice soft and reassuring. Their emotional connection strengthens in those moments of vulnerability, and although Erik struggles with his own instincts, he realizes that together they can offer her the protection she needs.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr who... joins Charles to defend Y/N from an external threat, forcing a collaboration that seemed impossible before. Both are aware that, although their methods differ, their love for her transcends any rivalry. “If we lose her, there will be no victory,” Erik says, his voice deep as he watches Charles nod, understanding him.

Yandere! Charles Xavier who... is also compelled to recognize the value of Erik's strength. “We need to join our forces if we want to protect her from the darkness that lurks,” he agrees, looking at Erik with a mix of respect and challenge. Together, they form a formidable front, balancing Erik's brute strength with Charles's cunning and knowledge, becoming two protective fathers seeking the best for Y/n.

Yandere! Erik Lehnsherr and Yandere! Charles Xavier who... finally find an understanding in their struggle to protect Y/n. The rivalry that once separated them becomes a bond that unites them, each complementing the other as they face the adversities of the outside world, with the Raven of freedom always present in their hearts.

A/N ── I don’t know much about Magneto (surprisingly), so I did what I could with him. Still, I wasn’t satisfied with his part, and that’s what worries me the most, but I think with a look at the comics, the movies, and watching a few videos, I’ll learn more about him.

I separated them because I think in Xavier’s case, Y/N would feel more drawn to his affection and appreciation, which is why she would remain loyal to him without wavering, which is different in Magneto’s case.

Raven is a character I really like, in several adaptations, except for two that I don’t like much mainly because of how they were written.

Feel free to ask me anything if you want. Just go to my profile and message me; I always read your ideas and requests.

Take a Bath!

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sorcerersseestars · 4 months ago

Text

LIMERENCE (III)

PART I, PART II

preview: So maybe this was unexpected, but maybe not. Your parents had always told you to be careful who you lent your heart to, but even more careful about who you made promises—or rather, vows—to. You were never fond of listening to their advice, however life saving it turned out to be…

word count: 11.9k

warnings: Violence/violent thoughts, mentions of illness/injuries, mentions of choking, vomiting, and blood, actual romance finally?? 😳

song rec: Mahler Symphony III, mvt VI <3 for nostalgic/bittersweet parts

NOTE: JJK0 edit! In this timeline, Geto invaded the school, failed to obtain Rika, but left unscathed. The twins depicted as mid-late teens.

“WILL YOU please lay off for once?” The man sighs, an unusual note of annoyance threatening to creep into his voice.

“But, Master Geto, this is horrible! They look like they're on death's door and you basically dropped them!” The girl exclaims loudly. “Who even are they?”

He hoists your limp body back over his shoulder, easily handling your weight. He had set you down for a few moments, as his shoulder had begun to ache after being burdened in one position for too long, but he intends to move you to a more permanent place than the ground he had momentarily set you on. He begins to walk away and, like always, the girl is his shadow, following behind immediately with no hesitation.

"I didn't drop them, Mimiko. My shoulder was hurting, so I had to put them down..."

"You practically did. If that's how you treat someone who's unconscious, remind me to never pass out around you. It looks like they hit their head when you 'didn't' drop them."

"Well, they have a price to pay. I wasn't necessarily trying to be gentle," He chuckles bitterly, “Let this be a lesson to you and Nanako. Don’t make a deal you’re not willing to follow through with until the end. It could cost you your life.”

The young girl frowns, confusion clear in her bright eyes. “But Master, aren’t they a sorcerer and not a monkey? I feel their cursed energy, even though it is weak. Why are you acting like this, Master Geto? I feel like…I feel like I don’t know you right now. How can you be so kind to us and then…and then treat this sorcerer…”

Her voice that started strong, as she means her words and thus began her inquiry with conviction, now gradually fades in volume until nothing can be heard but the roar of the wind.

He turns away quickly, trying to conceal how wide his eyes are, to hide the quiver that runs down his neck and through his fingers, to bury the contradicting feelings and morals that are tearing him apart. Yes, he has always been praised for his gentle nature and softness of his soul. Yes, he has always been commended for his strong moral compass and even sometimes accused of being self-righteous. Satoru had a tendency for the latter, but you…you would always readily agree with Geto and would look to him for an example. He remembers your eyes on him when Satoru pledged to kill all of the sorcerers that had involvement with Riko’s death during the Star Plasma mission. You had instantly laid down your weapon when Geto told Satoru that it wasn’t worth anything, that it wouldn’t change the tragic outcome that had already fallen upon them.

But when Geto later had—in the view of the sorcerer’s world, and most definitely in your view as well, he can only assume—his fall from grace, you had not looked to him or followed him then. But as he only had one opportunity to speak with you after, he could not pretend to fully understand your entire opinion of him—did you despise him, did you feel betrayed by him, or maybe, deep down, did you understand?

He doesn’t know what you truly think, and probably never will. And yet he cannot hold back about what he thinks about you—you, a pivotal figure in the Jujutsu world, a strong sorcerer who also has a strong attachment to the strongest sorcerer. You, who represent and fight for the future generation of sorcerers. You, who often put your life on the line to save mere monkeys, and teach others to do the same.

He turns back to Mimiko, who looks to him with wide, hesitant eyes. Her presence alone reminds him of his purpose, of his mission, and he quickly summons his resolve. He has his reasons, after all.

“Master, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean to doubt you or disrespect you—“

Geto sighs, expression softening at the slight tremble in her voice. “It’s quite alright, Mimiko. I am the one that should be apologizing. It’s just that it is difficult for me to be in their presence, knowing what they are and who they are close to. It makes me someone…someone that I sometimes wish I wasn’t. They are both symbols of everything we despise, of everything we are fighting against. I can’t help but feel disgusted and irritated in their presence.”

She blinks slowly, processing his words. "So you mean them and...are you talking about this sorcerer and Gojo Satoru?"

"Very good," Geto praises, but he does not smile. "Those two have been on my list a long time."

Mimiko raises an eyebrow. "I understand about Gojo Satoru, of course, but why this person? I don't recognize them from our black book. Aren't they just a teacher at Tokyo or something?"

"(Y/N) was our classmate at Tokyo, and it is true that they teach there now. They are particularly special to our situation, you could say. They could turn the tide for us," He pauses, then shakes his head decisively. "No, they will."

Mimiko's lips twitch as many more questions threaten to burst out, but she holds her tongue and instead takes in her master's expression. Excitement glitters in his dark eyes, or maybe anticipation. He looks like he has cracked the code to something very important, giving him an almost manic appearance. But there's also something else in his countenance. She can't put her finger on it, but an emotion akin to regret occasionally interrupts his otherwise eager expression.

"They have always been infatuated with Gojo. I can't say it was love at first sight, but as close as you can get to that. I knew that, eventually, they would fall for Gojo. For a long time, I never thought anything of it, other than the fact their heart was going to be broken someday. After all, he was notorious for his arrogance and, well...philandering, I guess you could say, back then."

Mimiko rolls her eyes. "You mean he was a playboy."

"So, you get my meaning," Geto chuckles. "Yes, he has always been like that. And ever since the night that...that I rescued you and Nanako, ever since we went our separate ways, I haven't been able to lure him out. Not that I've wanted to, yet, but you know my goal."

"Yes," She breathes out the word almost instantly. "To eliminate all non-sorcerers, for the betterment of our world."

"That's the end goal, yes," He says, letting out a grunt of assent. "But remember what I told you and Nanako all that time ago?"

He turns to face her, eyes searching her expression, wondering just how firmly she believes in his ideals.

She looks up at him instantly, eyes glinting with a determination and purpose beyond her age. The intensity of her gaze almost startles him. "Gojo is the sorcerers' figurehead. Once he is eliminated, they will panic and we can make our move. They won't have the advantage anymore."

"Figurehead...maybe I said that before, but he is no figurehead. The higher-ups are, definitely, but Gojo...Gojo is the real deal. As much as I hate to admit it, we are no longer equals and haven't been for a long time. He is the most difficult to handle, and that's why we have to take him out first."

"Even though you didn't get Rika? I thought acquiring that cursed spirit was necessary."

Geto sighs, "You wound my pride by reminding me of that failure...but, no, that won't be necessary anymore."

He enters his room and haphazardly deposits you onto his bed, although it is still considerably gentler of a movement than before. His eyes sweep over your form, scrutinizing your sickly appearance. You look rather convincing for his case.

"Why not?" Mimiko prompts after the silence stretches out too long. Her patience can only last so long—he has been avoiding what she has really wanted answers for this entire conversation.

He nods to your form. "Gojo will come for them soon. He knows this is my doing, I made sure of it. And once he sees their condition, knowing that he caused this...and after they explain our little Binding Vow we took, his worldview will shatter."

He doesn't elaborate. Mimiko, who was listening with rapt attention, shakes her head in confusion. "Master, please explain this to me. What do you mean to happen? I thought you wanted to dispose of him."

"I did, once. When I was angry with this world, angry at his sudden insistence on helping the weak, I did. But I've never truly wanted to kill him, just as he has no desire to kill me. He's supposed to, but he won't. We were best friends, after all. After this happens, after they succumb to this disease, then I can't imagine he will ever want to help anyone ever again, monkeys included. Even if he doesn't join us, he will no longer be a threat."

His dark eyes trail over your form, taking in your gaunt cheeks and thin hair. He lingers on your closed eyes—even though you are unconscious and technically resting, the fatigue that plagues your features does not fade in the slightest.

“Which disease, Master?” Mimiko prompts, seeing that Geto’s mind has drifted. His eyes quickly shoot up to meet hers.

"They are afflicted with Hanahaki disease. This is what I anticipated all those years ago as I watched them fall head over heels for Gojo. That he would be too cautious to show his affection to them and they would believe their love to be one-sided. It is not, I know it is not, but I convinced them otherwise. I made a Binding Vow with them to guarantee that they wouldn’t notify anybody else about their condition, once it has befallen them. They vowed to keep quiet until they sensed they were close to death."

“They took this Vow willingly, or…?” Mimiko asks in a hushed voice, as if afraid to offend her master.

“Yes. I told them that one day they would fall prey to this disease, that their love would be unrequited—they easily accepted this. I convinced them that letting them succumb to the disease would be…would be for the best.”

Fear and confusion pulse through Mimiko, quickening her heart rate. She is quickly piecing together all the information that pertains to her master, and through every line of thought she comes to the same conclusion. She squeaks out, “But won’t he come for you?”

Geto shakes his head calmly. “No, he’ll come for them.”

“That’s not what I meant, Master,“ She says with urgency. “Won’t he kill you?”

“And what would that accomplish?”

“He’ll be angry, he’ll want revenge! You implied that he…that he loves them, too.”

“Killing me will not bring them back.” He says simply, coolly. “It would only bring him more pain. His love and his best friend dead in one night? It would be too much to bear.”

Mimiko shakes her head worriedly. “Even so…would he really consider you his best friend after that? I think you are misjudging the situation slightly, Master…”

Geto laughs, “You believe me to be a fool. I can’t say I disagree, but I know him. Too well.”

“Can I ask you something, Master?” She asks quietly. He nods his consent with an intrigued expression. “Did he ever expect you to defect? When you two were close, did he ever know this side to you? If not, then…how do you expect to know him at all, either?”

Geto says nothing, train of thought interrupted by a bright sound. Mimiko’s point is clear, clearer than the peals of the bells from the rustling wind chimes outside. The wind that consumed Mimiko’s words before now disturbs his thoughts with this incessant chiming.

He eventually says, “He will be defeated, especially with the knowledge that they agreed to this. That they agreed to die for him.”

“Why did they?” Mimiko whispers, gazing at your broken form with unbridled pity in her eyes. “What did you promise them?”

“They came to me, begging to spare him. They knew I would come after him some day. They admitted to me that he had direct orders to kill me, but could never go through with them or even think on them. They feared this weakness of his would cause him to hold back and leave him vulnerable if I ever decided to go through with my plans. But I, of course, needed something valuable in return if I were to promise to spare him. And this is the only valuable exchange I could came up with…a way to defeat him without ever needing to physically do so. They didn’t hesitate to lay down their life, and I…”

Geto pauses, reflecting on his feelings for you. You had once been a good friend, although he always thought you were too lenient towards Gojo—always walking around with large puppy eyes for him, at times blind to his faults. At one time, you and Geto were so close that he perfectly knew your order at the local cafe, down to the two sugar packets and only a few droplets of cream, and that you would only ever go to bed earlier than 2 am if you knew they were serving your favorite breakfast in the morning. In comparison, Geto doesn’t know much of you anymore—but he knows your literal fatal flaw—you give up too much of yourself for Satoru, this time being your life.

“Well, I have to admit it didn’t feel great guaranteeing the death of an old friend, but…it is for a higher purpose. Our purpose. It’s for the sake of the entire world. If Gojo goes down, in one form or another, we will be able to infiltrate and dismantle their whole society. Their death won’t be in vain.”

A new voice pipes up from behind him, soft and choked. "That's too cruel, Master Geto.”

He looks over to the doorway and sees only long, dark brown hair and shaking shoulders.

“Nanako?” He questions quietly, tone gentle, yet curious.

Nanako slowly turns around, her face revealed inch by inch, and he is surprised to find glossy eyes and rivulets of tears pouring down her cheeks. One hand is pressed over her mouth as if she is trying to rein in her emotions, but is failing.

“I know it is for the betterment of our world—“ She is stopped by a telling rasp in her voice. “But—I really can’t believe in love and goodness anymore if they die.”

Before she can hear any response from either her sister or her master, she turns on her heel and races down the hall.

The air in Geto’s lungs is stuck and feels like it’ll be forever suspended there, but then Mimiko says, “She still believed in that stuff?” and he can finally exhale.

Gojo Satoru isn’t having a good night—or, rather, a good morning. Ever since you called him at 3 am, he has been wide awake and filled with a jumble of emotions. He was so relieved to see your name pop up on his screen—he thought it was a good sign, that maybe you didn’t hold his ghosting you for months against him. He was also glad that he didn’t have to initiate contact with you, which he honestly didn’t feel like he deserved after how he’s brushed you aside—although he couldn’t shake off the feeling that maybe he was just a coward and in denial about it. He’s often in denial about things pertaining to his feelings—oftener about feelings involving you.

Ever since the call ended, when your screams and near unintelligible speech were abruptly cut off, Gojo has been frozen: hands shaking, vision coming in and out of focus, mouth turning to sand. He can’t reach you right now. He wishes he could teleport instantly to you, but he remembers Shoko’s news that you have moved to a new apartment about a month ago. Shoko had been shocked when he admitted he didn’t know, and further so when he didn’t proceed to ask for your new address. Gojo always used to come by and bother you at your last apartment, after all. And here his past behavior comes to bite him in the ass.

His mind begins to race, full of regrets and hopes and fears; his thoughts fly by faster than they ever have before. It makes him think of you all the more, and memories he had long forgotten begin to surface.

It’s funny how fast he is inundated with memories. In school, you had always teased him about how slow he was in school, specifically how slow of a test taker he was. He would always finish last, no matter the day, no matter the subject.

“You must be a slow thinker,” You used to tease him. Once you had followed it up with, “I’m surprised you even take the tests seriously. I figured you’d just Christmas tree it and be the first one done just to get it over with. Wouldn’t ‘the strongest’ want to focus on training more anyway?”

Your mischievous smile flashes through his mind, your laughter so full of mirth that he hasn’t heard in forever also rings through his mind; his chest aches. Back then, he didn’t exactly know what to think of how you could never stop poking fun at him—he didn’t understand what you meant by it, but he sorely, sorely misses it now. Back then, he couldn’t help but try to fire back with something he found equally as insulting, but it never had the same effect. His face would always be flushed and his charisma would melt away, revealing a stuttering and helplessly in love boy. Nobody could look at him and recognize him as what would be the strongest sorcerer in their age, or relate him to the cocky, rich Gojo heir who was rumored to be head of his clan soon. He was a mere boy would wanted to impress a regular sorcerer of no material or familial importance or fame, a sorcerer who was smart and witty enough to cut down his personality—or, rather, his persona—down to his raw self with just a few words. And yet when Shoko and Geto would poke fun at his crush on you, he would vehemently deny it. He didn’t truly believe it himself—or didn’t want to believe it—because of how vulnerable you made him feel. Despite all the signs, he maintained his claim of not liking you, which was hard to believe with his strong need to impress you.

He couldn’t use his charm or fame to get to you, so he wanted—no, needed—to impress you through other means. For example, Gojo did indeed prefer training to studying, but he couldn’t just say that, otherwise he would reveal too much. So whenever you would tease him about his molasses pace in academics, Gojo would begin to either shrug or quip back with something about how you were quite the opposite, a quick learner with perfect grades but always the first one to be beaten in a spar and the last to understand a new technique. You never seemed offended or even embarrassed by his claims, which irked him, considering how ruffled he would get if you said something similar to him. You would just smile as if you knew something he didn’t.

The real reason why he tried so hard in academics is—surprise, surprise!—that he wanted to impress you. He found that you were difficult to impress—you didn’t seem to care about how strong he was as a sorcerer, or about his looks and charm. In Satoru’s view, you always seemed to prefer his best friend Suguru for his mind and moral compass. Suguru was naturally book smart and didn’t have to work hard to get good grades; if Gojo fell behind, he thought he wouldn’t have a chance with you at all. In actuality, you cared little about others’ grades, but you were amused—and, okay, maybe a little impressed—by how diligent Gojo seemed to be.

Either way, you’d be destined to fall for Gojo Satoru anyway. Either way, Gojo Satoru was destined to be oblivious to your attraction toward him.

But, your love for him was inconsequential—either way, he would always come for you. Even if you hated him, he would be there, with no ounce of hesitation. He wouldn’t think twice when it came to you, even if it involved someone he also had a painfully complicated relationship with.

His former best friend, someone he truly believed to be the only one to understand him, blindsided him all those years ago. Even you, who were always so perceptive and attentive to your friends, hadn’t anticipated Geto’s horrific exit from society.

That was the first time you had seen cracks emerge in Gojo’s mask. He remembers your concerned gaze on him when he would forget to laugh when a joke was told, or at how quickly his perpetual smile would fall once he thought nobody was looking.

“We’re all shocked,” You had tried to console him once, even though he acted like he didn’t need it. “It’s not your fault, Satoru. Nobody expected this…”

You two were enjoying ice cream, sat lazily on the steps of the school. It almost felt normal, but the fact that Satoru’s treat was untouched broke the illusion for you.

“Who said it was?” He tried to laugh like he normally would, but it sounded faker than he anticipated. “If that idiot wants to go running off like a little bitch, let him.”

Your brow had furrowed as you tried not to glare at him. You hated when he used misogynous terms like bitch or pussy when describing someone negatively, but he couldn’t give a flying fuck right now. You knew he was struggling so you said nothing on this, but your sharp gaze reminded him of his fault nonetheless.

“It’s a little more than just running off,” You had sighed. “The report was…”

You trailed off, not wanting to recount the atrocious crimes someone you believed to be so gentle committed.

“Like I don’t fucking know that.” He snorted bitterly, angrily.

The mask was slipping more, that much was obvious. You wanted to help ease it off, but knew you would likely have to press him. It wasn’t healthy for him to be holding everything inside.

“There’s a rumor that they’re going to assassinate him,” You said quietly.

“It’s no rumor,” He said, voice quivering from trying to hold back his emotions.

“Really?” You turned to him with rapt interest, but he didn’t elaborate. The school-wide known yapper sat silently, his jaw clenched.

“Why are you holding back?” You suddenly accused. “You never say so little.”

“He shook his head, avoiding your eyes. He felt like he could snap at any second, that his mask would shatter for good and he’d be completely exposed in front of you.

“Why are you holding back?” You repeated more loudly. You didn’t seem like you were going to give this up.

He suddenly threw his uneaten, melted ice cream to the ground. There was a palpable crunch as pressed his palm down on the cone, shattering it. You flinched, momentarily caught off guard, but deep down you weren’t surprised. He had so much guilt, anger, and sadness sitting dormant inside of him, and it was only a matter of time before it erupted.

Your eyes followed his figure as he pushed himself up and started to walk away. He didn’t glance at you—but it guessed he was being avoidant rather than spiteful.

“Don’t you dare walk away, too,” You had pleaded, but it sounded more like a threat. “We’re not done here, Satoru.”

You stood up quickly, ready to go after him, but your fear would soon be proven unfounded, because Gojo stopped abruptly at your words. For a moment, both you and him were still. You were scared of what might happen next, but you didn’t dare say another word.

You didn’t have to. Gojo swiveled around, eyes blazing with a fire you had never seen before and chest heaving as if he had just been battling. Long gone was his usual cocky smile and condescending, playful gaze.

He began to shout at you. “What do you want? For me to admit to you what you already know?! Well, fucking fine! They ordered me, me of all people, to murder him—or, as they put it, ‘dispose’ of him. Is that what you wanted to hear me say? Are you fucking satisfied now?”

Your eyes were wide, taking in this new and painful information. You recovered quickly, speaking back in the most gentle tone he had ever heard from you.

“I’m sorry, Satoru. I didn’t know. I can’t believe they would…No, I guess I can believe that, but they can’t…they shouldn’t be allowed to order you that just because you’re the strongest. I’m sorry I pressed you about this,” You murmured. “I just wanted you to let out whatever was hurting you. You keep pretending around everyone, but…You’re hurting more than any of us, but you won’t admit it. You can tell us your pain…you can let it out.”

Nobody had seen through him like that before.

Then words began to flow out, words he had never told anyone. Truths that had never seen the light of day. He hated that you had this effect on him, that you able to unravel him like nobody else could. He could never keep anything from you, and this alone would influence many decisions in the future.

He shouted the words out, thinking that maybe if he yelled it would force the ugly painful lump in his throat to go away. “I hate that I’m expected to kill my best friend. I hate that the higher-ups use me as a weapon. I hate that ever since I was born, that’s all I’ve been and ever will be. And I hate most of all that one day, one of us will have to kill each other, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Your eyes swam with tears, horror clear in them. You knew his words were true. You knew it was true, and you had to do something about it. Later you would seek out the other side behind Gojo’s back, not knowing why desperation burned through you until you had settled a deal.

You looked so scared that it startled Gojo out of his miserable state. He came closer to you, arms held out as if he was halfway thinking about embracing you.

“God, I’m sorry I yelled at you like that, angel.” He said, mistakenly believing that his yelling induced your horrified state, eyes crinkling apologetically behind his shades.

“Angel?” You questioned, taken so aback that you barely remember what other words he uttered.

His cheeks suddenly colored. You had never noticed him blush before, even though he had because of you many times, so you couldn’t help but be surprised at his redness.

“I-is that okay?” He asked, uncharacteristically sheepish.

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, Mr. Flirt. I’m sure you call everyone that, anyway.”

He shook his head, “Nah, I’ll reserve this one for you. Of course, everyone else is baby, or sunshine, or pookie—”

“Okay, can I give you one then? How about harlot? Can I call you that?”

“What? NO!”

He smiles at the memory—the first time he called you angel, which was then cemented as his ‘ironic’ nickname for you. How you never realized his pet name was indicative of his feelings, he could never understand.

His smile falls—that pet name hasn’t crossed his tongue in ages, just as he hasn’t been open with you about his feelings and situation. He is sorry to say that you and him haven’t had the type of transparency you had in the past in a while, at the very least not since he was backed into a corner by the higher-ups and forced to ignore you. And maybe even not since the time you once came to him, bawling your eyes out and claiming you felt like you had done something awful that involved him but you couldn’t remember what, as if someone had put a spell on you to forget.

These memories all run through his head at a speed beyond what he can comprehend. He feels like he is missing something, and that it may be hidden somewhere deep in his memories. But Gojo does not have the luxury of time on his side; he has no more time to dig through his memories. Even if the answer may lie from within, he has a better chance of finding it out by pursuing you.

After he allows himself a final moment to remember and remember and remember, to regret and regret and regret some more, he starts making calls—he needs to gather information as quickly as possible. He knows that Geto is crafty and calculated—this must definitely be related to your Binding Vow with him. He can’t guess what it entails, and as much as he wants to believe that Geto must have some good in him still, he can’t rule out the possibility of your life very much being in danger. You being some sort of a twisted bargaining chip is a fear that does not go unnoticed in his mind. He knows this to be highly probable, but he doesn’t want to admit it.

Gojo knows that Geto and his association, disguised and funded as a “religious organization”, are constantly moving around. Their temple’s location has been known for a long time, but they are rarely there, intel has reported. Thus he makes calls to all of the top sorcerers involved in collecting intel to see if a new hideout has popped up. He was hoping that they could pinpoint exactly where Geto is, but they only have a few general ideas of his location.

Gojo hangs up on the last sorcerer right after they could only propose two vague locations. He wanted to berate all of them for being inadequate, for letting such a high level dangerous sorcerer like Geto to exist without detection, to let him run amuck in their society with virtually no consequences, even after targeting Gojo’s student for his sole personal benefit. But Satoru knows this anger would be misdirected—projecting the higher-ups problems onto these sorcerers who are just obeying orders.

“Fuck!” Gojo yells, the panic and frustration rising with every passing moment. “I’m going to kill those fucking higher-ups one day.”

At least they all had similar guesses, so Gojo has an idea of where you could be held. The only completely useful piece of information he acquired was your current address, as much as it pained him to ask a random person for it. And just like that, Gojo is on the case. He could have called in specialized trackers, but it would take too long to dispatch them and would definitely result in interference from the higher-ups.

Instead, Gojo pockets his phone—which he had thrown quite forcefully onto his bed in his frustration after failing to locate you—and teleports to your new address. He races up the steps to your floor and stops in front of your unit. He frowns. Your front door is ajar, which makes him bristle. It’s a clear statement from Geto—brazenly boasting that he got to you easily and with little care about being caught. Well, really no care—which is suspicious and smells of a trap. But there’s no way Gojo will choose not to pursue you—and, unfortunately, Geto seems to know this, too.

Gojo sets his Six-Eyes on your apartment and finds no active cursed energy. Finding the coast to be clear, he quickly pushes the door open further and walks in. He is first struck by the mess in the living room, eyes darkening at the sight of the broken glass and neglected blooms lying on the floor.

You struggled all the way to the door, is what Gojo assumes of the eerie mess. His jaw clenches as he recalls your shrieks as you were dragged against your will. He continues on, reaching your bedroom first. It is surprisingly in order there, so he moves to your bathroom—and that’s when his heart drops into his stomach.

Blood. Blood is everywhere. He feels sick. The scent clogs his nose and he swallows to keep himself from gagging. He sees the imprint of your hands in the edges of the pool of blood on the floor. He feels sick. He sees red handprints on the doorframe where you desperately tried to hold on while you were dragged out—there are gouges in the wood from your nails digging in. He feels traces of your cursed energy, fainter than they should be, overpowered by Geto’s strong residuals. He feels sick.

The only key detail that Gojo fails to notice is the singular baby blue petal, darkened from a layer of dried blood, lying on the floor. You had disposed of the flowers earlier in the night because their presence only allowed you to think of him—but this petal had evidently escaped your notice. Is it ironic or fitting that the object of your affection and disease does not notice the petal in the color of his eyes?

Geto has been waiting patiently by your bedside. You haven’t woken yet, which spares him the ordeal of conversing with you. He fears that you would be troublesome if you realized that Gojo would be coming for you—if you truly realized what was going on, you’d in hysterics, surely. Good thing that he prevented that the day he made the vow with you.

On the other hand, however, Geto is curious about what you would possibly say to him. Would you be glad to see him after all of these years? He doubts you truly despise him, deep down. After all, you always aspired to be more like Geto—from his composure, to his gentle character, to his morals. You definitely don’t adhere to the same moral code now, and Geto is positive you think of him lowly for his misdeeds. But perhaps you may still envy him for his composure and even his apathy to an extent—his ability to keep calm in life or death situations, and for his ability to kill without batting an eye. Maybe you wish you more like that so that you could take him out and spare Satoru the pain of doing so.

Or maybe he is completely wrong. Maybe you have changed—if you had not been in such a sickly state, would you have fought back to the point of killing him? Have you gained enough mental fortitude and tenacity to kill him in Satoru’s stead?

After spending a few more minutes mulling over his thoughts, Geto leaves the room. Satoru should be here soon—but not too soon. After all, nobody knows his new location—only him and his girls know. So Gojo shouldn’t arrive at least until sun-up, or at least he hopes. He’s depending on that—if not, then he might have to interfere more directly.

Geto exits the house, hoping the chill of the night air will clear his mind. It is very cold tonight—a few small flakes are falling, but melt as soon as they touch the ground. He’s itching for a smoke, a warm stick of cancer to fill his lungs with. He detachedly wonders if Shoko is still keeping her old habit.

“Master Geto?” Comes a small voice.

He turns his head to acknowledge her presence.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks with genuine concern. “It’s late, Nanako.”

She shakes her head. “Not really…this place doesn’t hold the best memories for us.”

He nods. “I know. That’s why we chose it though, right? It sets the scene well.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of eerie that nobody lives around here anymore…I mean, this countryside was full of monkeys.”

“I remember very well,” Geto says with some disgust. “You and Mimiko were too good for this place. They were cruel to you.”

She sighs. “I know, we really hated it here. To think what would have happened if you didn’t rescue us…thank you, Master.”

Geto smiles gently. “There’s no need to thank me. I only did what was right.”

Nanako smiles back, looking a little sheepish. Then her smile falls and she nervously twiddles her fingers together. “By the way, Master, they’re still asleep…and still breathing. I thought they would…I thought you said they’d be deceased by now?”

His eyebrows furrow. “Hm. I thought so, but perhaps I was mistaken. I’ll go check on them. You should go back to bed and try to get some rest.”

He seems troubled and his mood noticeably soured. Nanako nods and quietly excuses herself, not wanting to bother her master any further. But before she is out of sight, Geto loudly lets out a string of expletives from. When Nanako turns to look at him, she sees that his head is in his hands.

“What’s wrong?” Nanako asks, rushing back to him.

“He’s here,” Geto says through gritted teeth. “Nanako, go. I don’t think he’d harm you, but I won’t take any chances. Wake Mimiko and go to the place we discussed earlier.”

Nanako doesn’t hesitate. She really doesn’t want to be anywhere near Gojo Satoru, who her master has admitted surpasses him in strength. She’s seen Geto in battle before—she can’t imagine how monstrous Gojo must be in comparison. She rushes back into the house, set on going directly to Mimiko, but instead pauses by the room where you rest. She studies your sleeping form, lingering on the unfairness of your situation. But what can she do? She is powerless to help you.

And so, Nanako and Mimiko flee just as they were told to. One wonders if she’s doing the right thing, the other yawns and asks about breakfast.

While they’re escaping, Geto ponders what to do. It’s not dawn yet—the sky is starless, covered by black clouds full of snow—but the barrier Geto placed has been penetrated. Gojo Satoru has arrived. Early. Which is, well, rather inconvenient: you aren’t dead yet. But he can’t just go and finish you off—it would defeat the entire purpose of this set-up. He doesn’t have to lay a finger on you for you to die. That’s the beauty of it.

Geto suddenly stands up straight, alert from the feeling of cursed energy so near. His eyes trace the perimeters of his vision, but he sees nothing even in his peripherals.

“Where are they?”

The words come from nothing, from nowhere. It’s as if the words enter only his mind and not his ears.

His instincts are going off like crazy—ringing through his head as a massive wave of cursed energy washes over him from behind. Geto slowly turns around, regaining calm as his thoughts catch up to his instincts.

There stands Gojo Satoru, the man who can change everything. Just like the time Geto ‘revisited’ Tokyo Tech, white bandages obscure his famous eyes. While Geto blends into the night’s shadows, Gojo almost glows. His white hair and pale countenance instantly draw attention to him.

As Geto quickly looks over his figure, his eyes begin to narrow. Considering what he’s seeing, he’s not sure how to approach this or what his reaction will be—because right now, Gojo looks different. He doesn’t stand with his usual casual air, and even lacks the cocky smirk he normally wears. His hands aren’t in his pockets, he isn’t leaning on anything, and his weight isn’t shifted to one side. In contrast to his normal posture, he stands tall, finally doing his height and strength justice.

If Geto were wiser, he might be scared. After all, he’s never seen Gojo look this serious, even when he was messing with his students in front of him. But knowing what he knows, Geto can’t help but feel smug. Almost everything has gone according to plan so far—a plan that he had enough foresight to create years ago. His prediction of you falling for Gojo and feeling the keen sting of unrequited love came to fruition—surely, everything else will also fall into place.

Geto chooses not to be wise.

Geto looks at Gojo calmly, a small smile appearing on his face. “Always so direct nowadays, eh, Satoru? Well, nevertheless, I’m glad you’re here. Without the strongest, this would all be pointless.”

Gojo’s lip curls. He can hardly believe that the man in front of him used to be his closest friend that he thought understood him the most. To Gojo, it’s sickening how gentle and familiar Geto’s easy smile is, knowing he has killed more innocent people than he ever saved.

“Oh, really? Care to enlighten me on your worthless plan this time? I’m really starting to think you actually went crazy just like everyone said.”

Geto walks away from Gojo, back turned to him. With no eyes on Gojo, he leaves himself completely exposed and at the mercy of Gojo. Geto’s display of trust makes him bristle, eyes darkening under the swath of white that lays over his eyes.

“That would be easier to accept, wouldn’t it?” Geto says, but quickly pulls away from the topic. “You know, Satoru, I didn’t even give you the address. I would give a warmer welcome for an invited guest…say, like (Y/N)! They have been received well by myself and my twins.”

Gojo sighs, adopting more of his casual charm as he chuckles dryly.

“Just what is this, Geto?” Gojo holds up his hands. “Don’t tell me you’re the jokester now, because this isn’t fucking funny.”

“Whatever you say, Gojo. I’m thoroughly amused.”

His dark eyes, glinting in the light of the moon, crinkle in said amusement. Gojo holds back a shiver—there’s something sinister in those eyes.

“Just because you have forsaken yourself doesn’t mean others will accept that,” Gojo says firmly. “I thought that would be obvious by now.”

“And when has that stopped me?” Geto says with a tut. “Besides, you’d think someone would try to interfere if they didn’t accept this. But alas, you have left me alone for years. Is this not a product of your own doing?”

Gojo almost falters. After all, he’s not wrong.

“I leave you alone for years and you go and—” He audibly exhales. “You harass my students and then kidnap (Y/N)? Let’s cut the bullshit. What are you plotting? Why would you take (Y/N)? What could you possibly want with them? You left all of us and never looked back.”

“With them? Don’t you mean from them?” Geto says, turning to give him a small smile. “As to what I’m planning…you’ll find out soon enough.”

Gojo’s brow furrows, but he says nothing.

“It’s so cold tonight,” Geto sighs lazily, as if he hasn’t a genuine care in the world. “You know, I would welcome you inside, but you’re here earlier than expected. I don’t know if they’re ready for you, yet.”

Gojo is rendered silent for a few moments as he considers what Geto could possibly mean. Geto speaks lightly, as if he’s hinting at something amusing to himself. Obviously Geto has done something to you—but what could be possibly mean by ‘ready for him’?

Gojo doesn’t want to entertain Geto by falling for his bait, so he speaks only what he truly wants to know. “I already told you, Suguru. Cut the bullshit. Tell me what you want from them. Now.”

Geto turns to him with a sharp glare. “What am I, a dog for you to order around? Don’t you know that’s what monkeys are for?”

“Do you try to control, or should I say enslave, humans now, too?” Gojo sneers. “Sounds like you have less dignity than one of your so-called ‘monkeys’.”

“What a low blow. Enslave? No, nothing like that! I just put them out of their own miserable existence after they do some of my bidding. You know Satoru, you’re more feisty than you used to be.”

“I wonder why,” Gojo says bitterly, but tries to hold his tongue. The more he gives in to his banter, the further he is from what he came here for.

Geto doesn’t respond this time. Gojo doesn’t like the feeling he starts getting—the feeling that Geto is stalling for time. He needs more information if he can get it, but Gojo knows he doesn’t have any more time to waste—you could be in any sort of condition. He’s beginning to panic, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

“What do you want from them? Why would you take them?” Gojo speaks lowly. “They don’t have anything to do with you anymore.”

When Geto remains silent, Gojo barks out, “Tell me now, Suguru! I won’t play these fucking games with you. You already crossed the line before by messing with my students. Now this? You should be careful. It’s like you want me to kill you.”

Geto laughs heartily, as if this is just a tense moment in an otherwise pleasant reunion. “Sure, Satoru. We played poker together, don’t you remember? You could never hold your pokerface. You’re still horrible at bluffing, I see.”

“Call my fucking bluff then,” Gojo spits.

“I have been, all these years. We both know why I’m still alive.” Geto says calmly.

“But you know that I won’t overlook this. I don’t know what you’re thinking, Suguru, but there’s only so much I can sweep under the rug. Especially with…with them, and you know that.”

“Oh, yes, I certainly do.” He smiles easily, eyes crinkling as if he is particularly pleased.

This unnerves Gojo even more.

Geto startles when Gojo suddenly appears mere inches from him. He’s never before witnessed his former friend with an aura this agitated and full of aggression, with cursed energy so inflamed and oppressive. Gojo seems so tall in this moment, towering over Geto even though they’re practically the same height.

Geto finally feels a sliver of doubt. Gojo has never been able to harm him, or rather, could never bring himself to. Geto has known this and has exploited this, in fact—but right now, for the first time, he can’t help but wonder if today is the day.

“What the fuck are you doing, Suguru?” Gojo asks lowly, anger bleeding in to his tone despite his efforts to stifle it.

Geto laughs. If only he knew. If only he knew that he would soon be on his knees, reality falling apart, finally succumbing to Geto’s worldview.

“I don’t think that’s the right question,” Geto shakes his head, his voice teasing—mocking. “Wouldn’t it be ‘What have I done?’”

He watches the color drain from Gojo’s face as his meaning sinks in. Something has been done to you, and it might be irreversible. You might be…you might be de—

Gojo sharply inhales as his mind goes blank with fury. His entire mind is consumed with the thought of strangling Geto. He can’t get the image of his hands around his throat, hurting him like he must have hurt you, life draining from his twisted eyes, to fade away. The fiery rage in him is triggering the euphoria he gets with a taste of violence—when he almost goes mad, addicted to his own strength and invincibility.

But…but you. What about you? What if you’re still alive?

The violence falls away, cast away by thoughts of you. All it takes is a single second of your smile, an echo of your sweet laugh, for him to singularly focus on you. If you’re alive, he needs to find you right now.

And the next time Geto blinks, he is greeted on with an icy breeze, as the figure in front of him has vanished. Geto doubles over in laughter, thinking that he has won. He will be the one to break THE Gojo Satoru, or at least shatter the weapon the jujutsu higher-ups love to use. This weapon will be at his disposal; with Gojo Satoru by his side again, the extermination of the human race will be finally be within his grasp.

That’s assuming that your heart has stopped beating. Geto, who chooses to be a fool, does not even check. Even though Nanako relayed that you were breathing a few minutes ago, his arrogance and hope to break Satoru exceed any doubt.

Gojo is also a fool, or so he thinks. He wasted so much time on Geto, who had him so easily transfixed by his vague mentions of you. He should have just searched for you from the start.

Thundering footsteps and calls of your name now echo through the house in which you reside. Finally able to focus solely on you after separating from Geto, Gojo frantically searches the house, going from room to room as fast as he can.

He hadn’t acknowledged it to Geto, but he’s been here before, that time when he had to confirm with his own eyes the extent of Geto’s crimes. It doesn’t bode well with him that Geto chose this place to house you—the place where he slaughtered dozens of people, his first step to breaking away from jujutsu society.

Gojo finds himself profusely sweating—whether it’s from fear or from sprinting through this maze of a house, he can’t tell. But after learning practically nothing from Geto except that he has done something to you, Gojo can’t keep the bubbling anxiety at bay for much longer.

The panic rises acutely in Gojo once he realizes something—he feels so blind, running around like a chicken with its head cut off, because there is no cursed energy to detect. Your distinctive energy that led him from your home until here, is nowhere to be found, as if it has been extinguished.

He can’t breathe. His chest feels tight, and he is practically wheezing as he continues to rush around the rooms, scanning them with his bare eyes since he doesn’t trust his Six-Eyes right now. It’s illogical, he knows, but maybe his eyes are broken and that’s why he can’t see your energy. He refuses to give any serious thought to the alternative—if you didn’t have any cursed energy anymore, then that would mean…

He enters the last room—this room is larger than the rest, implying its greater importance, but is practically empty. It’s one of the the most minimalist looking bedrooms Gojo has even stepped foot in. The only thing that immediately captures his attention is a neat stack of papers that sit on the desk. He instantly recognizes the scrawl on the top paper as Geto’s. It pains him that he still remembers a detail as minute as that about Suguru.

His gaze migrates to the rest of the room, namely to the bed that is nestled into the furthest corner. His heart lurches. The fact that he didn’t notice this immediately, not used to relying solely on his normal vision, isn’t good. Him not noticing someone usually means they’re not with the living.

Only steps away, there is a figure strewn out over the sheets, unmoving and looking rather ragged. Hair unkempt, lips cracked, clothes bloodied, chest still.

Chest still.

He immediately moves to you, not wasting a second as takes a place by your bedside.

“No, no, no,” Satoru whispers, as if speaking too loudly will mean that this is reality, that maybe if you don’t wake up it’ll be because he didn’t speak loudly enough. Though soft, his voice is urgent and pleading. “Please no. Please don’t be true.”

He instantly scoops you up, handling your weight easily. He cradles you close to him as if you could disappear from his arms at any moment—and maybe, if you could see yourself, you’d understand that his fears aren’t unfounded, as you truly look as if your life force could fade at any moment. He then notices a rivulet of blood running from your mouth—he tries to gently brush it away, but ends up smearing it onto both your chin and his hand. Anger fills him when he thinks what Geto must have done to reduce you to this state.

Your eyelids begin to flutter open at his touch and warmth, but Satoru still sees more of your long eyelashes than your unusually dull eyes. They will not open past halfway, no matter how hard you try. In your disoriented state, you don’t notice Gojo’s sigh of relief, or how his grip on you tightens as if to remind himself that you’re here, you’re alive and breathing, you’re safe in his arms.

Through the spots in your eyes, you see a halo of white and two luminescent blue eyes. As your vision clears, you admire the light filtering through his translucent hair, which makes him appear angelic. Of course, he is as beautiful as the last time you saw him.

“Satoru? ‘S that you?” You manage to ask, and you sound raspier than a chronic smoker, much to your displeasure. You cringe internally, knowing how awful you must look and sound right now. You know it doesn’t matter how disheveled you look when you’re on the brink of death—and yet you can’t help but worry about it while you’re in his presence.

“You’re so cold,” Is his softly spoken answer. “God, I really thought– I thought that—”

If you didn’t know any better, you would say he sounds despaired. But that can’t be right—there’s no way he still cares about you. Not after his cold and harsh behavior towards you, not after he got together with Utahime—he can’t care. Or at least, not how you want to be cared by him.

After a few moments of silence, it’s evident that Gojo doesn’t intend to finish his sentence. Even in your hazy state of mind, you can guess what he was going to say. You do look awful, probably even worse than the last time you had a chance to look in the mirror.

“I think you’re just warm,” You tease weakly, with a smile full of too much amusement when considering the situation, when considering your condition. Now you’re playing Gojo’s role: joking when you should be serious.

It hurts Gojo to see the gentleness in your smile, gentleness and goodness that reveal how truly soft-hearted you are. Your natural softness after what you’ve been through—it angers him.

“No, I can’t be. It’s snowing outside,” He says, growing more upset with each sentence. “But you’re– you’re even colder than that. Your skin is—it’s like ice. You’re making me fucking worried!”

You blink rapidly, startled by his show of strong emotion but even more surprised by the glimmer of near tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” You say quietly, although neither you nor him know what exactly you’re apologizing for.

“That’s not what I meant,” He says, sighing, pulling you tighter to him. “I’m just…I was worried before I came, but now I’m really scared for you.”

“You are? You have been?” You blurt out automatically and mindlessly, eyes wide open now. You look so surprised that Satoru can’t help but chuckle a little, though it pains him that you don’t seem to believe him.

Heat rises to your face and you squirm a bit in his arms, now suddenly aware of your closeness, of all his skin touching yours. He quells your movement with a brush of his hand on your arm, encouraging you to stay still.

“You shouldn’t move too much. You really don’t look too good, angel,” He says, voice tight and threatening to break. “What did he do to you?”

Hah. You must look so disgusting and beat up that he assumes Geto hurt you. You smile weakly to yourself, wondering what he would think if you said you had looked like this for days.

“He didn’t,” You simply say, not seeming to have any intention to clarify. “This is how he found me. How could something like this happen overnight?”

You’re astounded by your own honesty. It’s always been difficult to be completely transparent for you, especially to Satoru—always trying to brush things off, make excuses for people, diminish your own pain in order not to bother or worry others.

Your words cut deep through Gojo and instantly take his breath away.

How could something like this happen overnight?

He hasn’t seen you since the day he rudely brushed you off, and it has been weeks since then. In the months before that dreadful interaction, he had only seen you one-on-one a handful of times. He knows you didn’t mean anything by your words, but he can’t help but feel guilt and karma very sharply. He deserves this after ignoring you for so long, even if he thought it was for the best.

You begin to cough, and it’s a horrible grating noise. It’s a miracle this didn’t happen sooner, although you wish that Gojo wouldn’t see this at all.

“You should go,” You croak out between coughs. “Leave me here, get away from Geto. It’s…it’s too late for me. Leave me.”

Gojo lightly rolls his eyes, partly in frustration by your melodramatic reaction and partly at himself because he has made you believe that he would just leave you there.

“As if,” He says almost playfully, gaining back some of his personality now that he has processed that you’re alive. “What are you saying? If I leave, I’m leaving with you. Just gimme a second to call Shoko, she’ll get everything prepared as always, she’ll be annoyed but she always has a soft spot for you—”

“No,” You interrupt Gojo, your voice firmer than he’s heard from you in a long time. “I told you, there’s no saving me.”

The dread sets in. Why are you so insistent on that?

He opens his mouth, about to say something, but doesn’t manage get the words out before the room is filled with rough coughing. You cough until all the air escapes from your lungs—and then you’re wheezing and choking on nothing.

“You okay? Tell me what’s going on,” He asks in an even tone, but he is anything but calm, especially when you are thrown into another coughing fit. “Angel? It’s okay, just breathe.”

Gojo places you back onto the bed, elevates your back so you’re in a sitting position, and begins to pat on your back in the hopes that it’ll help regulate your breathing. What he doesn’t realize, though, is that you’re not just having a panic attack. Something is actually lodged in your airways.

You begin to choke and gag. Satoru’s eyes are wide when he realizes that something is wrong, something is horribly wrong. He pats your back harder, the force beginning to push your body forward.

“Well, it’s finally started, has it? A little late, but no matter.”

Gojo’s head whips to the door so fast it almost gives him whiplash. He has been so focused on you that he didn’t even sense Geto’s sudden presence. He rests on the doorframe, watching with interest sparkling in his eyes.

“What’s going on here?” Gojo asks, accusatory, but is so scared to hear the answer that he almost wishes neither respond.

“Just watch and you’ll understand,” Geto says knowingly, easily. Everything is unfolding as it should, he’s glad to see.

Geto looks to Gojo smugly, wanting to see the fear swimming in his uncovered eyes, but is completely caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. Adrenaline quickly courses through Geto’s veins, the type that spiderwebs through your tingling palms and traces icy fingers down your spine, for the first time in years. The true fight-or-flight feeling, reminiscent of when he first fought a high-level curse. But now it’s from Gojo’s hardened blue eyes boring into his own, penetrating down to his very soul, like a god passing divine judgment.

Your hacking interrupts the tense face off. Gojo is the one who looks away, but Geto does not feel as if he is backing down. He is ashamed to admit that he feels waves of relief once Gojo tends to you again. Unsettled, Geto takes a few steps away from the doorframe, retreating into the hallway away from Gojo’s scrutinizing gaze.

You don’t notice it, but of course you can’t in your state. At least, not when you feel it coming.

The thorns and stiff branches begin to scratch your throat. The numerous petals suffocate you and are slow to rise as they are heavy with blood. You grip Satoru’s wrist tightly to get his attention.

“Go,” You manage wheeze out. “Leave. Don’t want you to…see.”

He looks at you with so much horror in his eyes, looking even more scared than you feel. You can visually see the gears turning in his head, connecting the dots. Your weakness, your coughing, the blood from your mouth, the fact that this ‘couldn’t happen overnight’—

A blue petal escapes from your lips. It spins through the air, right before Gojo’s eyes, confirming his worst fears.

This must be a nightmare. It has to be a nightmare. Maybe he hallucinated the petal. Maybe you can still be saved, even though your coughing keeps getting worse and worse.

But then there’s something he can’t deny out of existence. As he rubs your back, helping you through your coughing and gagging, you cough up what he feared most. His heart rate skyrockets as he lays eyes on what you coughed up. A flower.

A flower the color of his eyes, the beauty of it corrupted by your blood that drenches it. A flower that’s meant for him. A flower that means you love him and that you don’t believe he loves you back.

Pain shoots through him, spikes working under his chest. He brought this on you. He thought he was protecting you, but instead he has been slowly killing you from the inside.

“No…” He whispers, unbelieving.

For some reason, you smile. Just a tiny quirk of your lips and the crinkling of your eyes as you look up at him. It’s a real smile, one he hasn’t seen in so long. And it hits him: one he might never see again, if he doesn’t fix this.

“No!” Gojo gasps out, not wanting to believe his eyes. “No, angel, no. Not this. This– this can’t be real. Why? Why did this happen to you?”

It’s cruel, but he knows very well why. He vied for your affection for years and years and has loved you for just about as long. And yet you are the one cursed to this fate, due to his denial erroneously leading him to Utahime and the suppression of his feelings leaving him to heartlessly ignore you.

You stare up at him with wide eyes, shame flickering through them. You didn’t want him to find out.

“‘Can’t help it,” You say weakly. “Not when it comes to you. Always sort of knew, but I figured it out recently. By then, though, you were…gone.”

He shakes his head frantically, words coming out in a jumble as he desperately tries to explain. “I just wanted to protect you. The higher-ups were after you—I thought I had to let go of you. I-I never thought this would happen. I never knew that you…”

“It’s okay, Satoru. I understand,” You say, holding back tears. “I’ve accepted it. It’s okay that you don’t feel the same. You have…you have her and that’s enough for me.”

You smile again. So bright, so genuine, and yet so painful.

“No! I…”

He wants to vehemently deny it, but the words get stuck in his throat. For years he has swallowed his feelings and never truly allowed himself to feel or speak them. The deepest feelings in his heart have never risen to the surface to be shared; they have always pooled deep in his soul, away from prying eyes and hearts.

But now they are so close to be verbally admitted that they are in his throat, choking him. He looks into your eyes and is overwhelmed by the waves of emotion that crash over him; it’s uncomfortable and even painful.

He has always shoved down his emotion for you. Any time he has ever shown his true feelings, about you aside, is when you eased it out of him. He has never divulged any real emotion on his own.

Despite his natural instincts screaming at him to keep it inside, despite the knot in his throat choking him, this time, he lets himself be overwhelmed.

“I love you. I always have,” He speaks, voice trembling with emotion. “Even when I didn’t know it yet. (Y/N), I’ve always liked you. I used to try so hard for you during school, always trying to get your attention. Remember how I never left you alone? You’d get so annoyed at me. Shoko and Geto said I was so obvious…”

Now that he’s started, he can’t seem to stop.

“I know I’ve fucked up recently, but it’s not…it’s not because I don’t have feelings for you. They’ve never once faded, even when I tried to ignore them. I tried with Utahime because I couldn’t get you out of my head, even though I needed to. The higher-ups have been targeting you, and I thought it was because of me, so I had to prove to them that you weren’t close to me. I even went out with Utahime, who hated my guts, but that…didn’t work out. It wasn’t fair to her—she herself realized how in love with you I am.”

He looks at you with an emotion you can’t place—it fills you with warmth and brings tears to your eyes. You sniffle a little, wondering if this is a cruel trick because this just cannot be real. There is no way in the world that Gojo Satoru went to look for you after months of radio silence. There is no way that he is here, right now, admitting feelings you never once suspected.

A sob wracks your body, even though you try your hardest to keep it in. You cover your face with your hands when you can’t stop yourself from the absolute meltdown that ensues, trying to preserve your dignity. He can’t love you, he just can’t.

“Don’t do that,” He says softly, gently easing your hands away from your face. “You don’t have to hide from me. God, I’m so sorry, angel. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

He leans in close, wanting to embrace you but not knowing if he even deserves to hold you. You sense his hesitance when he comes near you, and you think that this is the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. His hand slowly comes to your face to caress your cheek, to wipe away your pathetic tears, and you are shocked at the drops that fall on your skin from above.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” He chuckles weakly, tears freely falling, his words an echo of your own mind. “I shouldn’t be surprised, but please…please try. I don’t want anything more to happen to you.”

And you do try. You do, but you feel so tired and weak. Your vision is starting to go out of focus and your ears are ringing. Your body is telling you that it will soon give up. Your body is ready to give up, but you aren’t.

You lock eyes with him as best as you can, your heart skipping from the prolonged eye contact. If only you could have always been able to look into his eyes like this.

“Satoru, I think it’s pretty obvious by now, but…no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop loving you. Not even if it kills me…” You smile sadly. “And I think it might.”

“But I love you!” He cries, and it comes out as a plea. Tears stream down his face. “I don’t understand, I love you, (Y/N)! Is it– is it someone else? It’s okay if it is, I’ll take you to them and—”

You laugh, causing blood to dribble down your chin. “Even after all that studying, you can’t think. I already said it, but should I say it again? I love you, Satoru.”

“Then why? It was just one flower. You should- you should be fine. Please be fine.”

“The flower,” You explain hoarsely. “That wasn’t the first one. I’ve already coughed up a lot of them. Too many. I think my fate has been sealed for a while. I’m sorry, Satoru. I’m a fool. I finally learn that you love me, and I’m like this.”

He’s frozen for a moment, everything sinking in. Your life is no longer suspended in his hands, but rather in death’s treacherous grasp. There is no telling how long you have left.

In the next moment, he quickly gathers you in his arms, scooping you up effortlessly from the bed.

“You’re not dying on me,” He says, trying to assume his regular calm. “I won’t let you. We’ll figure this out, o-okay? Please angel, just fight it a bit more for me. We’ll leave right now, I’m sure Shoko can handle this.”

You nod, seeing through his false calm. “Satoru…I want you to know that even if I d—”

He shakes his head resolutely. “Tell me when you’re all better, okay? Promise me.”

Time feels suspended when you look into his eyes again, all of your emotions showing through them as if this is the last time you’ll ever see each again in this world.

You never get to promise him. Instead, Geto’s loud and commanding voice startles the two of you. “You’re not leaving with them.”

“Like hell I’m not,” Gojo snarls. “Like you can stop me.”

He closes his eyes, mentally easing into his large store of cursed energy, and prepares himself to make the familiar teleportation route to Tokyo Tech. But something’s different this time—his eyes fly open, pupils blowing wide, when he hits a block he never has before.

“You can’t teleport once you’re inside this barrier,” Geto explains calmly, voice as smooth and slow as molasses. “Thought you might pull something like this.”

You’re glad you didn’t promise him. Your ears ring again, and you feel so dizzy that you can’t keep your eyes from closing, even though you hear him begging you to keep them open.

The conversation between Geto and Gojo is lost on you with your fading hearing. You only hear their vague intonations and cadences, shouting and cursing. And then you’re being jostled wildly. Gojo is running with you in his arms, making a break for the edge of the barrier—that much you can surmise by the loud thumps and his erratic breathing.

You’re fading fast. You mumble out his name, giving everything you have just to open your eyes.

He’s so beautiful. The moonlight catches in his silver hair and reflects through his blue eyes you’ve always loved so much. You gaze into them as if they were pools you could dive into, endless depths of his soul. You wish you could spend more time looking at his eyes, just like this.

You hear his voice you could listen to for hours. He usually has a sly, silver tongue, but not today. It is weak and wavers. It bares the true feelings of the strongest today. “Don’t you dare die on me, angel!”

You wish you could promise him that, but your eyes close without your permission.

part iv

TAGLIST: @certainduckanchor @kawaiivillainess98 @arehzhera @starrylibras @mandysfanfics @rain-and-a-nice-nap @csillana @sup-hoes-its-me @llliissuu @hawkdaddy1111 @dcvilxswish @angel-kyo @eliz-lovesgojo @5268r @wooasecret @timetobegone @ceronnica @torusblindfold @mo0nforme @crookedlyaddictedtodark-blog @soapysofi @sadmonke @shartnart1 @dummyf @adoraspace @allie-jay @notgoodforlife @spin-garden @astrokatsuki @reiluvr @kinny-away @turtl3-warr1or

a/n: not Geto listening to the confession like 🧍‍♂️

ahhh I’m so sorry it took this long!!! Thank you for your patience! basically I had a pretty long draft written out and it yeeted itself out of this world (😭😭😭 legit have no idea what happened to it) and was really frustrated by that, so I didn’t return to this for a long while…Anyway, I’m glad to be back!!

There will be another part! Sorry not sorry about the cliffhanger/ambiguous ending. 😳

Btw I’m really sorry to all Geto lovers out there, I feel like I always do Geto dirty and write him as some evil unfeeling man 💀💀 but I swear I don’t actually hate his character and I think he’s a lot more complex than I write him…🥴

Thank you for reading! 💙🩵

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic #gojo hurt/comfort #hanahaki #jjk #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you

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wordbunch · 1 year ago

Text

how they care for you when you’re sick/injured but refuse to rest

a/n: requested by @tolkien-fantasy!! 💕 since i already did sth quite similar with Frodo/Sam/Merry/Pippin, this time I decided to include only the “big guys”, aka Aragorn, Boromir, Faramir, Éomer and Legolas. Also Fíli doesn't go here but I decided he will be here.☺️ I hope you enjoy, let me know your thoughts and opinions, and reblogs are always super appreciated!!!🥰🥰🥰

Aragorn: He is literally just like that, even if he’s unwell he will keep pushing, and that is exactly why he immediately notices you do it too, and decides to put a stop to it. As much as he is loving and supportive and always respects your opinions and wishes, he is not taking ‘no’ for an answer when he deems that you really need to rest and recover. Luckily for you, he’s a legendary healer, so you will probably get better relatively soon. If he’s able to give you 100% of his attention and time during your recovery, he will literally feed you if he needs to, just so that you don’t exhaust yourself even more. Also he will quickly hush you if you begin to protest and insist that you’re fine and really have things to do! Sorry, king’s orders! Not just that, he will most definitely have your favorite food made for you, so that you don’t have to lift a finger (even though you want to).

Boromir: You were both extremely busy on the day when Gondor was preparing for some big festival, and amid your errands you sprained your ankle, but you brushed it off because you wanted to personally oversee the flower arrangements. For the first and only time you were thankful not to see Boromir half the day because you knew he would make a small fuss about it immediately, so you limped on until you accidentally ended up tripping and stumbling backwards into a familiar strong chest. He looked at you suspiciously while you attempted to just brush it off as being clumsy, but he thought you looked a little bit pale and was not convinced. Before you could keep convincing him, he picked you up bridal style and carried you to your bed, having seen right through your act. Sadly he couldn’t have stayed with you the whole time as there were still some things to prepare, but he ran to you as often as he could to check if you were still resting, and to attack you with a flurry of reassuring kisses. Later in the evening he will 100% cuddle you until you both fall asleep wrapped up in each other, and he has no trouble carrying you around for days so that you don’t have to put weight on your injured leg - he enjoys doing it!

Legolas: Injuries and illnesses are not exactly something he is very familiar with, but he knows enough to be aware that they require rest and recuperation! His senses are sharp and he notices if you wince one time, and he is there in an instant. He will ask you what is wrong, what you need, etc. As much as Legolas he understands your restlessness and the constant need to be up and about, he needs you to understand that he’s worried and doesn’t want your condition to get worse. If it’s something very serious, he will immediately call Aragorn for help, but if it’s something minor, he thinks he should be able to handle it and support you through it. Before you know it, you’re not allowed to do anything under his watchful gaze but you’re bored!! No problem, though, he is more than ready to entertain you in any way he can, even if it means he has to sing you all the elvish songs since the beginning of time (and you will make good use of his promise to do that!).

Éomer: Oh that is literally his BRAND because he’s out there being unstoppable even when something is wrong - and he is not letting his beloved be like that, not on his watch! He is also the type to carry you to bed despite your protests and you being like “I’m fine!” And he is like, alright then, but even if you’re fine, that doesn’t mean you can’t get some rest! No amount of your pouting is going to make him let up. Eventually when you finally admit you’re in pain, he will fuss over you a bit and he will literally try to cook something (he feels better when he can take action) and before you know it he’s making 4 different kinds of tea at the same time and things seem a bit chaotic… When you ask whether he’s sure he doesn’t need any help, he will insist that you just go and rest and that he has everything under control. Needless to say, you didn’t get to eat/drink everything that he started making cause he failed at many things, but you appreciate the love that went into it regardless!

Faramir: He can notice that something is off within like 0.3 seconds and multiple times throughout the day he will ask how you’re feeling and if something is wrong because he can sense that something is off, but he knows you well enough to know that you’d prefer to keep going on about your day, even when in pain. And then when you almost pass out you finally admit that you’re not feeling well, and you know he will immediately drop whatever else he is doing and just focus on you as much as he can until you’re perfectly recovered. More likely than not he is immediately looking for Aragorn because he is NOT taking any risks; although you try to reassure him that it might not be necessary. He knows how to be persistent and when he gives you puppy eyes with those gorgeous teal blue eyes… you have no choice but to let him do his thing.

Fíli: When it comes to you he is a very worried person and he likes to keep an eye on you as much as he can, so it doesn't take him long to become aware that you're acting...different. He is especially fussy if you get injured, and he will push everything and everyone else aside to nurse you back to health, and it literally becomes his number one priority. Fíli won''t hesitate to be even a little bit harsh if anyone comes to bother you or ask something of you before you're 100% recovered, so sometimes you gently reprimand him for it - you feel well enough to go and keep doing things! But good luck trying to convince him!

✨ taglist my beloved ✨ @lotrnonsense @starlady66 @queenmeriadoc @entishramblings @thesolarangel @silversword7000 @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @averys-place @valkyriepirate @emmaarenstarr @noldorinpainter @asianbutnotjapanese @adamgetawaydriver @fenharel-enaste @ironmandeficiency @starryeyedrogue @dinofromspac3 @wisheduponastar @lady-of-imladris @frodo-cinnamonroll @unethicallypleistocene @deadlymistletoe @suncran @sillyvampireboi

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qraceiuv · 1 year ago

Note

hii can you do singer!reader x jude (ik you’ve done it recently so i understand if you don’t want to 😞) and can the faceclaim be tyla? idk if you let anons choose faceclaims anyways thank uuu!!!! also remember to eat and stay hydrated 🫶🏽🫶🏽 love u

water. jude bellingham.

summary — your new song causes the fans to want more and more content from jude and yours relationship

notes — tysm for this request! love u more bb, i literally had tyla in mind for a new blurb, and getting this made it perfect

warnings — inappropriate jokes? idk + mentions of throw up and such - js some cute lil fluff as usual

_________________________________________

y/nsusername

y/nsusername: 'water' out this friday🩵🐆

—

username: OMGOMGOMG

username: THIS IS SO UNEXPECTED

username: totally not breaking down

username: i need to wife her

username: WHATWHATATWNAN

username: WATER??😭

yourfriend: HOT HOT MEOWWW

— y/nsusername: oh thats

username: her and jude r dating right

— username: yeah it was confirmed like 3 months ago but they dont post much of each other

— username: maybe the singles abt him

— username: I HOPEEE

y/nsusername

y/nsusername: make me lose my breath, make me water 🪩🪞🐆💦

—

username: IM GLING INSANE

username: WTF

username: omg im so proud of her

username: SHES COME SO FAR CRYING

— y/nsusername: 🥹🥹🥹

username: AH AH AHHHH

username: im actually so happy for her

yourfriend: JIMMY FUCKING FALLON

— y/nsusername: JIMMY FUCKING FALLON

username: STREAM WATER BY Y/N

username: MAKE ME SWEATTTT

— username: MAKE ME HOTTERRRR

username: on repeat

username: oh shes gonna eat

judebellingham: 💦💦💦

— y/nsusername: delete immediately

— username: HELP?

username: JUDE IM CRYING

username: judes comment has made my year

username: finally y/njude content (its horrible)

y/nsusername

y/nsusername: tour so far... i love you lovely people and the many helping hands behind the scenes <3

—

username: see you in a week!!

username: i need to go

username: shes thriving

username: getting the hype she deserves

judebellingham: omg you love me?

— y/nsusername: no !

— judebellingham: guess ill turn the plane around

— y/nsusername: HEY.

username: HES ON A PLANE TO SEE HER😭😭

username: GUYS R WE GONNA FINALLY GET SOME Y/NJUDE LORE

username: i love them (we barely know them)

judebellingham

judebellingham: to be proud of my girl is an understatement 🩵🩵

—

username: okay ill cry

username: y/n love club

username: shouldve put 💦💦💦

— y/nsusername: agreed

y/nsusername: 💦💦💦

— jude bellingham: i hate you now.

— y/nsusername: payback

username: adoption papers wya

username: hard launch a lil too late

y/nsusername: i love you

y/nsusername

y/nsusername: my man finally took me out

—

username: KMS KMS KMS

username: FINALLY WE GETTING SOME SHIT

username: make me sweattt... sorry

— username: MAKE ME HOTTERRR

— username: everyone thank jude for this sexy song

yourfriend: i could treat u better

— y/nsusername: i know i know

judebellingham: im gonna do it

— y/nsusername: dont.

— judebellingham: 💦💦💦

username: JUDES COMMENT😭😭

username: theyre actually so cute

username: the banter >>>

username: my man is whipped

y/nsusername

y/nusername: 2M weekly streams on water... kisses 🐆💋

—

username: MAKE ME WATERRRD

username: YESSS

username: literally so deserved

username: im so proud lemme cry

username: MY BABY

username: WE LOVE YOU

username: STFU OMG

username: nobody deserves it more

judebellingham: my popstar

— y/nsusername: my starboy

judebellingham: so proud of you baby

username: BABY?!?!

username: im on the floor rn

username: jude is too lucky

username: im throwing up cuz of them

_________________________________________

#jude bellingham #fanfic #qraceiuv #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham oneshot #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude x reader #jude bellingham smau #jude bellingham social media au #jude bellingham x fem!reader #jude bellingham fic #soccer x reader #soccer imagine #football imagine #futbol imagine #fanfiction #social media au

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0310s · 5 months ago

Text

gently, by your side | jaehyun

members: myung jaehyun x gender neutral reader

genre: college au, angst, comfort, best friends! to ???, more platonic stuff in this one

tags/warnings: extensive discussions of mental health and chronic/mental illness, y/n is not okay. :(

summary: jaehyun finds you after a bad week.

wc: 2.7k

a/n: this fic’s title comes from this lovely song. as someone who’s struggled with both chronic and mental illness, it really takes someone strong and amazing to keep on going, despite everything. most of the dialogue in this comes from my own musings and experiences with mental health. i wrote this for a dear mutual of mine! i hope better days will come for you soon, whenever that may be. meanwhile, i hope this gives you comfort when things are tough! sending lots of love <3

𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

5 days ago 1:28 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

(y/n) we haven’t seen each other in such a loooong time imy :(( i mean i KNOW it’s just been a couple of days since we last hung out but still!!!!!!! when are we seeing each other again !!!! tell me ur schedule QUICK !!!!

4 days ago 6:33 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

heeeeyyyyyyyyy (with the intention to hang out) heeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy heeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyy reply to meeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!! tell me when ur free pls i miss u :((

3 days ago 11:58 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

hey i didn’t see u at the party today i thought u said u were going last week!!! also i asked around and people said they haven’t seen u around recently??? and they don’t know what ur up to

2 days ago 2:05 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

heeeyyyy ?????????? did i do smth????? or are u just really busy w school and work idk either way pls just let me know :(( i won’t bother u if ur rlllyyy busy

10:35 PM sorry if i’m being annoying btw

Yesterday 11:32 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

ok i thought about it reaaaaaallly hard and i don’t think i’ve done anything to make u mad or upset w me??? well aside from that time last last week that u got mad at me for accidentally messing w ur computer and deleting ur work files WHICH IM LIKE REALLY SORRY FOR but i fixed it!!!!! i thought we were good alrd!!! are u still mad at me 4 that ?

1:00 AM (y/n)?

1:28 AM idk i thought i was ur best friend :(( did smth change???

2:47 AM pls pls reply :(( i know we can talk this out i don’t want us to not be ok

Today 3:00 PM 🐶 cutie puppy i’m coming over.

𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

Sitting up from your bed, your heart thuds in anxiety as you quickly scroll through your chat history with Jaehyun. Your eyes hurt and your brain feels especially foggy, like you’re looking at the world through a particularly cloudy lens. How long did you sleep? The last thing you recall was working on your assignments last night, then choosing to sleep instead when you got overwhelmed. Even then, you slept fitfully. You remember setting an alarm at 9 AM today to continue working, but even as you sat at your desk, you couldn’t type a single sentence on your laptop. Everything felt muddled and it was as if you couldn’t understand anything at all. Even the cups of coffee you drank in desperation was of no use keeping you alert; all it did was make you palpitate.

Then you gave up, went back to bed, and you’re here now. Checking the chat timestamps, you realize you haven’t replied to Jaehyun’s messages in almost a week, which has never happened before—you talk almost everyday, even multiple times a day. Jaehyun’s last message was at 3 PM, when he said he’d come over. One look at your screen shows you it’s already 3:20. If you’ve memorized his schedule right, it takes your best friend thirty minutes to get to your dorm from his Fundamental Maths class. That means you have ten more minutes to get your shit together and clean your mess of a room.

But right when you’ve mustered the energy to stand up, you hear a series of knocks on your door. That can’t be— “(Y/n), open up, I know you’re in there!” Jaehyun’s voice echoes from outside the door. “I asked your dormmate and she said you haven’t left your room since yesterday, so there’s no use pretending!” Shit, shit, shit! You immediately spring up and hastily fold your blankets and organize your desk, throwing away stray food wrappers and plastic cups. You open your blinds to let some air in, and the bright sunlight makes your head throb even more.

On your way to the door, you spot yourself in the mirror. There’s no other word for it—you look like utter shit. Your eyebags are dark and prominent, your hair disheveled from tossing and turning in your sleep. You look horrendous, but Jaehyun is persistently knocking on your door, so you have no choice but to fix yourself up as fast as you can. You splash water on your face and smoothen down your hair and open the door—then there’s Jaehyun in all his glory. Your heart clenches seeing him; he looks as handsome as always, his bangs fluffy and soft and his letterman jacket fashionably oversized. He looks nothing like you in your ratty T-shirt with coffee stains and pajama shorts. His hand is halfway raised, positioned to knock at your door (he could and would probably do it all day if he had to). Upon seeing you, he blurts out: “Did I do something?”

Instead of answering him, you open your door wider as an invitation, and Jaehyun takes the hint, stepping into your dorm. Once the door is shut, Jaehyun peers at your messy room and remarks, “Wow. When was the last time you cleaned up? You’re usually not like this.”

You know he didn’t mean it like that, but his comment stings at you all the same. “Sorry, Jaehyun,” you snap, “not everyone can be at 200% energy all the time like you.” At his hurt expression, you backtrack. “Sorry, that was really rude of me.”

“It-It’s fine,” Jaehyun replies confusedly. Then he looks straight at you, eyes pleading. He’s picking at the stray thread hanging from his jacket, a habit you’ve come to known is something he does when he’s nervous. “You know what, I thought about it. For days, really, if I did anything that would make you mad and ignore me. But I couldn’t come up with anything at all. I was really worried when you didn’t reply to me for days on end, especially when we talk everyday. So if I did something, can—can you just tell me? I just want us to be okay.”

Your throat closes up and your heart pounds even faster, making you feel dizzy. You have no idea how to answer him, when all he’s ever seen of you is the perfect student who does everything right, who’s smart and good at what they do without any flaws or exceptions. How would he react if he saw you for who you really were?

The words can’t form in your mouth, and out of frustration at yourself, you tear up. Jaehyun notices this, eyes widening in worry, “(y/n), baby, no, no,” and pulls you into his arms. Almost instantly, the tears cascade down your face and sobs wrack your body. You feel pathetic crying in your best friend’s arms, but Jaehyun just soothes a hand up and down your back as you break down. His other arm is wrapped around your shoulders, and it feels like your anchor when you’re drowning in all your troubles. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he says in a hushed tone, “let it all out.” You grip his jacket even tighter as you bury your face in his chest.

When was the last time you’ve ever been hugged like this? The last time you’ve ever been truly vulnerable to anyone without that mask of perfection you often don? The last time you felt safe just being yourself? You have no idea. All you know that is in the circle of Jaehyun’s arms, you want to be small and imperfect and yourself just this once.

After your cries die down, Jaehyun clears his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t know what it is I did, but I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

“It’s not you, Jaehyun,” your voice is muffled by both your sniffles and Jaehyun’s chest. You don’t want Jaehyun to get the wrong idea that he’s hurt you in some way because of how broken he sounds thinking he’s done something to make you sad. “It’s just. Me.”

“You? What do you mean?” Jaehyun leads you into your room from the doorway. He’s holding your hand and doesn’t let go even when you both settle at the edge of your bed. His palm is warm and his grip loose enough in case you want to let go; you don’t. While you muster up the courage to speak, your best friend just sits there, waiting patiently. “It’s okay, whatever you say, I’m not going anywhere.” You don’t know that for sure, but him saying that makes you want to be truthful just this once, damn the consequences.

You take a deep breath, focusing on your intertwined fingers. You’re too scared to look at his face because you don’t want to see his reaction. “Jaehyun, what kind of person do you think people see me as?”

“Well…” He takes a moment to think about it. “Someone smart, talented, and who gets stuff done?”

In turn, you let out an resigned exhale. “Well, that’s the image I project. Of someone who’s perfect… someone who does things effortlessly. People think it comes easy to me. But it doesn’t. When people tell me that I didn’t need much effort to get to where I am now, I feel undermined. When I express I’m having a hard time, people brush it off and think I’m just overreacting. Because they think I’m perfect all the time. But honestly…? That’s the farthest thing from the truth."

Glancing up from your hands, you scan your room—your desk is a mess of papers and assignments that you have yet to get to. You can’t tell when the last time you spent time being actually productive when what you’ve been is fatigued out of your mind. When you try to sit at your desk and work, all you feel is difficulty concentrating and processing work and readings. Sleep has also proven to be elusive—no matter how long you lie in bed, you never feel well-rested. Simple actions and decisions require so much energy from you that you undeniably lack. You also constantly compare yourself to others, whom things like these come natural to them. But you’ve kept these feelings of yours secret for a long time—you’re utterly terrified that you’d be undermined for being useless and overly sensitive.

“(Y/n)?” Jaehyun squeezes your hand, and you turn to meet his eyes. His eyes are sincere and kind. “I-I know I may not be the most empathic person, but I promise I’ll hear you out without judging you. I want to be here for you… and I hope you’ll let me. Please?”

At this, you spill everything you’ve been feeling the past weeks—months, even—to Jaehyun. You stumble over your words and your breath gets caught in your throat, but he’s there to pat your back and to encourage you to keep going. Without you knowing, tears make their way down your face once again, and Jaehyun uses his other hand to gently brush them away. “It just gets so hard that I want to just. Give everything up. I don’t know what the use of trying so hard is when I see how other people don’t need this much effort to do even the most basic of tasks. It’s just so… unfair.”

When you’re finished with your rant, you don’t know what to expect from Jaehyun—but you’re stunned to see him crying. He’s sniffling and wiping at his eyes furiously. “Why…” You have no idea what he’s about to say, but you brace yourself for the worst. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” he whispers brokenly. “I didn’t know you were having such a difficult time. I feel like such a shitty friend for not even noticing. I’m sorry, (y/n).” Jaehyun’s eyes fill with tears and he starts “I… I thought we were best friends.” The best friends tell each other everything goes unsaid, but you know exactly what he meant.

“I…” You feel awful now for making Jaehyun cry. “You’re just. You just naturally have all this limitless energy. You’re…” Normal. Not like me. “I don’t know how if you were going to take me seriously if I told you what I was going through… There were times I’d see you, and I’d be so disappointed in myself for not being like you. And I was so scared that if I did tell you, I’d be letting you down.”

Jaehyun’s expression grows more miserable at this. “I-I’m sorry, (y/n), I never meant to make you feel unheard. And I never meant for it to feel like you couldn’t tell me about these things.”

“It-It’s not your fault, Jaehyun,” you protest, but he shakes his head, obviously disappointed in himself.

“No, (y/n), I’m supposed to be your best friend. How stupid can I be if I can’t notice when you’re having a hard time? I didn’t even stop to ask how you’ve been doing because you seemed to be doing fine. But I should’ve known better. I shouldn’t have taken things at face value. I’m such an idiot,” Jaehyun berates himself. “I’m so, so sorry.”

At his sincere apology, you can’t help but admit it to yourself—you desperately needed Jaehyun’s support as your best friend, but you were too scared to ask for it. And honestly? You felt immensely lonely without his words and presence to comfort you.

“(Y/n), I hope you know that I see how hard you work. I know your sleepless nights and how much effort you put into every single thing you do. Despite everything you’re going through, you’re always trying to be better than the person you were yesterday, and it’s something I truly admire about you. But I hope you know it’s okay to be imperfect and flawed and to not be okay. I want to be here on your good and bad days. I just wish I could’ve been more vocal about this earlier… I’ve really taken you for granted, huh?” Jaehyun sighs wetly, taking your hand in both of his. He’s still crying; you both are, actually. What a silly pair the two of you make.

“Thank you for trusting me and sharing all of this. It literally means the world to me,” Jaehyun rambles. “I promise I’ll be a better friend to you, someone you feel safe opening up to about anything, whether that be your achievements or your struggles. And (y/n), if it’s not too much to ask… Could I ask you to be more honest with me in the future?” He stares at you imploringly. “I don’t want you to think you have to go through all of this alone. I want to be here for you the same way you’ve always been there for me… Okay?”

“....Okay. Okay, I’ll try,” you respond softly. “Thank you, Jaehyun. I… I’ve never told anyone about this before. But thank you so much for just listening, and not judging, and accepting me for me…” While you appreciate Jaehyun’s presence at this moment, a new wave of fatigue washes over you with all this emotional vulnerability and talking. “Jaehyun… I’m still feeling really tired, so I might go back to sleep. Sorry, I know you came all the way here to see me, but here I am being shit company,” you apologize regretfully.

“Oh! That’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jaehyun stands up from your bed to leave. When your fingers slip from each other, you feel an acute loss of warmth—both in your hands and in your heart. He makes his way to the door, slipping on his shoes, and your heart sinks. There’s something you badly want to ask of Jaehyun, but you’re too much of a coward to tell him what you truly want. You don’t want to be on your own right now, but you’d probably be asking too much of him. Accepting your fate, you settle in bed, attempting to take a nap so restless you’re sure will be of no help to your exhaustion.

However, Jaehyun himself stops in the doorway. He turns back around, a distraught look on his face. “(Y/n)... I don’t want to assume, but are you sure you want to be alone right now?” he begins. “I mean, we just had this really heavy talk. Can… Can I keep you company? I promise I’m great at cuddles—that’s what all my other friends say anyway when I annoy them with my hugs.”

When you nod, that’s all it takes for Jaehyun to shuck off his shoes, strip his jacket, and climb into bed with you. With your ear against his steady heartbeat and his comforting arm around you, you’re asleep in no time. It’s the best you’ve ever slept in months.

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