#Let's all hope that the colors are meaningless

[respectthepetty]

I went into episode six of Wandee Goodday already knowing that Yak is crying, begging for a kiss, and wearing his chain in the next episode which signals that he and Dee are likely no longer in a fake relationship.

So I was nervous at the very beginning of episode six hearing Yak admit that the one time he lost a fight was due to his weak spot.

Yak was so used to winning quickly, that when he actually had to put in the effort, his opponent defeated him by simply putting up a fight and draining his energy.

This extended theme of winning and losing is starting to really stress me out!

Because both of these color-coded boys (in love) need to win.

Especially Yak since money troubles have been mentioned several times.

But both boys can't win since Dee has proven to be a worthy opponent even as Dee is already wearing Yak's yellow.

Dee has more stamina, and no, this isn't about sex. It's about denial. Once Yak leaves for training camp, Dee looks out to the balcony and his fake blue (post coming after episode seven) and sees Yak's pants hanging. But look at the fire hazard! The black curtain is draped over the light as Dee states he does not miss Yak.

A gentle breeze was blowing so the curtain could have magically covered the light, but this is also a monitored television production and if a source of light is covered, there is usually a reason, because once Dee goes out and actually touches the pants, magically, the (yellow) light is shining brightly even though the breeze is still there. And Dee texts Yak.

This happens again. Dee is speaking to his little mini Dee and clearly states he does NOT miss Yak as he stands in front of his fake blue.

Yet as the conversation continues, a yellow light magically appears.

And that's the thing! Dee, with his fake blue, is really good at denying his feelings.

But yellow Yak isn't. Because even when he said that he feels comfortable around Dee because he can be himself and included Taem in that statement at the last second, he was still holding onto a purple water bottle.

And even when Dee showed up in front of him after driving two hours just to see Yak and tried to claim that YAK MISSED HIM FIRST, Yak still asked for a kiss . . . on the lips knowing full well what that means to Dee.

So I really liked that Ter observed Dee standing in front of the purple direction arrows for the bathroom and a lab as Dee watched Yak with Taem because Dee has to pick which direction he is going.

Dee, in his purple, needs to decide if he really is no longer in love with Ter, who he was in love with for eight years.

Or if he is willing to try something else.

Because Yak, who doesn't want the public to know when he is in a relationship, has actually always been true to himself and his color, but Dee's purple and feelings stay hidden, which is why he could hide the fact that he was in love with Ter for eight years.

Yet Yak has brought out that color and gets to see what Dee hides from others.

Like Dee being a little drunk trash panda.

Yak has been fully invested in Dee's purple since the very first time they met, but Dee, with his fake blue, still hides his feelings.

He is wearing pink, his friend is reading him for filth, and yet Dee will still deny everything.

Even if Yak still talks about Taem, he has made it clear that he likes Dee. He introduces himself to Dee's parents as Dee's boyfriend. He took Dee on a family trip with his brother and brother-in-law. He asks to kiss Dee . . . on the lips.

Yak's safe space is a place made up solely of their colors.

And with the purple lighting on his side and the yellow light on Dee's, Yak asks Dee to promise to tell no one else about his special place that only Dee knows about.

Yet Dee can't, even as the yellow surrounds him.

And this is why I'm worried. Yak is clear. Yak, with yellow lighting to back him up, is speaking through his actions. But Dee, even as the green lighting behind him turns to yellow, cannot lose.

So even though I know I'm getting ahead of myself, next week, Dee's purple is soooo light that it barely registers.

Then, it appears that he kisses Yak in blue.

So either I'm completely crazy, which is a huge possibility, or Yak is still going to lose to Dee because Dee, in his fake blue, either won't kiss Yak or he will claim that means nothing more than Dee fulfilling Yak's request. Because Dee has to win and him and his fake blue have what it takes to drag this out.

Dee is Yak's weak spot.

[traceybrakes]

Let's Talk About Un-ironicizing Art!

In light of a lot of the conversations i've seen surrounding Death Grips and recent events concerning them, I want to take the time to point out that this is a good time to start thinking about how we engage with art on the whole!

For a long time, the irony poisoned method of consumption went unchecked in all facets of internet culture. As an internet musician in current day, I have noticed a sharp disconnect between artists and enthusiasts/casual listeners when it comes to attitudes surrounding music specifically, though I've witnessed it permeate all forms of art in some way.

I see people who have grown scared to engage on deeper levels, intentionally severing any resonant connections or knowledge learned from a piece of media before it has the chance to take root. In short, dare to be vulnerable! Dare to enjoy something on the basis that you yourself resonate with it, and not for any other nebulous reasoning. When masses of people relegate art to a spectacle, not only do artists become more likely to be disenchanted with the passions that fuel their work, but the audience ultimately suffers as well. All art at that point becomes less an extension of ourselves, less a vehicle to explore our identities, and is rendered a meaningless hulking sludge, or worse, the opponent to an already shrinking and narrow worldview.

Be not afraid to be unabashedly in love with the work that inspires you. Be not afraid to have the things you love misunderstood by some. When you engage with work new and old, make sure to do it for yourself. Making and observing art is inherently selfish, but being selfish is not inherently misguided. Allow yourself to learn, grow, discover, and repeat that cycle until the day you die.

To speak more candidly about my own experience, throughout the course of my life, there has been art that I've held near and dear to my identity, and own journey of self discovery that I seldom find others who hold the same sentiments to. I've always found this exciting. Exciting to hold something close to my chest as something so personal, and even more exciting when I can ease up on that grip when I find someone who I can share that with. However, I've also been through the throes of how the internet tends to chew up and spit out art that generally isn't understood by the many. I've fallen victim myself to the hive mind mentality that circles some artists and the cult of non-identity around them. This off-color ouroboros of knowing all about an artist's work and simultaneously upholding this facade of vapid complacency. I've come to the conclusion that if being openly supportive and connected to an artist's work or a particular piece of work automatically renders a person uninteresting and unambiguous at the very least, then I will live happily as an uninteresting open book. At the worst times, we see this line of thinking contribute to Death Grips being mocked and belittled en masse by people who are unwilling to engage with their art before they even get that far. It's heartbreaking, to me at least to see people put so much effort, emotion, and passion into transforming culture for the better to be rewarded with a crowd that's plugging their ears.

I realize I run the risk of sounding self indulgent, or even patronizing to an extent; I apologize because that isn't my intention, I'm hoping to see gears shift at least on a micro level surrounding attitudes towards art appreciation. Remember to dare to be in love holistically with the art you engage with! Speak of the things you love in a way that makes that clear to others, and consider your peers to do the same! You and the people around you can only be better off for it.

[santsukii]

ᯓ✿ say you love me

ˋ°•*⁀➷ anemo boys falling for you (alt angst version here)

ˋ°•*⁀➷ venti, xiao, kaedehara kazuha, shikanoin heizou, wanderer x gn! reader

₊˚ character story spoilers, this is more or less just an excuse to write the silly little scenarios in my head involving these boys, some more angsty than others but it’s like 90% fluff

it’s not as if venti were completely oblivious to his own emotions, he understands what’s going on when he notices his heart fluttering when you’re around. when you smiled at him, it was as if his heart were beating right out of his chest. his music so clearly and beautifully graced the air, drowning out his own whispered confession of love. if he were to say it loud enough for you ears to pick up, how would you look back at him? as if fate itself were turning its head and laughing at him for falling so helplessly in love with someone he only considered a friend until recently.

to all but the archon himself, such melancholy tunes played on his lyre while sitting on the hands of a statue made in his likeness were simply meaningless and carried little to no weight whatsoever. the sky was clear, allowing him to gaze ever so wistfully at the constellations in the night sky as he thinks of you. maybe he’d find yours, reaching up and tracing the connections of the brightly shining stars with his finger. he knows he’s nothing more than a god fallen from grace, and not even you knew of the gnosis that had been taken from him. venti’s heart ached at the idea that he may never be able to scream out his love for you due to his own doubts.

yet right now, in the dead of night, he could sing of the love residing deep within his ever-beating heart. with a final song to confess to the night sky, he sings and plays so softly that it’s difficult to hear. even with that, his voice is so soothing and comforting as he sings out the love that had plagued him for a long time now. as he finished his song, he noticed the smallest amount of tears dripping from his face as he finally let out the pent-up emotions. even if he presumed you were far away, he hopelessly hoped that his voice would reach you. your beautiful smile and laugh were etched in the archon’s heart, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

if xiao met the same fate as those he once held dear, he hoped he could at least let out his love for you. it brings him peace that he can protect you as the last yaksha of liyue. he often finds himself separate from society for their own sake, his karmic debt often drawing closer the demons he swore to kill. yet, you stayed close to him despite the immediate danger you often faced. sometimes, he would find the tears pricking at his golden eyes as he reminisces the life he wished he could have lived with you. it would have been a peaceful life full of happiness and love beyond compare, surrounded by his fellow yaksha.

even with that, the light of your smile never passed him by. silently watching over you from afar during the lantern rite, he was torn. xiao wanted nothing more than to join you in the crowd, but what if you got separated from him? would he have the courage to hold your hand? those doubts landed him sitting atop a building and watching from a distance, silently hoping you’d turn around and notice his affectionate observations. as hundreds of lanterns gently floated into the air, he found himself once again fighting the urge to join you in the crowd. it would only be a matter of time before the fireworks begun, maybe then he’d have the opportunity to stand beside you and welcome in a new year.

in the bitter cold of the night air as the first of the fireworks exploded into the inky dark sky, you saw him next to you. xiao smiled gently, not saying a word as the landscape was illuminated with the bright and lively colors of the fireworks. his hand in yours, welcoming a new year together with a kiss. the one thing that couldn’t be heard beneath the explosions of color that could outshine the brightest star was his voice, saying three words he never thought he’d say again. “i love you”

he had fallen for you without a care in the world, allowing it to grow as the days go by for no reason besides the idea that he has nothing to lose by falling for you. kazuha’s heart felt as if it were bursting with love and passion whenever he looked at you. it was a whirlwind type of romance, one in which both parties involved were constantly sharing knowing glances and giggles, overly affectionate with a passion that will surely burn itself out if given enough time.

but it didn’t. he never once doubted his love for you, in fact he was quite open about it. it was bound to make others jealous, the way he was constantly sending letters with gifts when he was away on various travels. whenever kazuha was away from you, he found himself missing you exponentially more as the days went by. oftentimes, he only wanted to return to the place he belonged, in your arms. he doesn’t really enjoy being all alone, so he’d take your hand and hold it ever so tightly. you’ve always been what guides him and gives him peace of mind. your smile was like a guiding star in the darkest of nights, always there to light the way despite the circumstances.

kazuha never truly “confessed”. his actions alone indicated his love for you, and he one day just began saying he loved you. it came so naturally to him that he could never overthink it, like a second nature. those three words flowed so naturally out of his mouth with that beautiful and soft voice of his, it just felt right. what began as simply a lighthearted summer romance had quickly grown into a love that would stand the rest of time, despite any struggles the two of you may face. if nothing else, you’d face it together.

heizou is a naturally flirty person, using that to his advantage to conceal his true feelings for you. being a detective, he was naturally able to read people, yet he could never truly understand what was going on behind those eyes of yours. really, it was such a nuisance to hold these feelings in. alas, it was a hinderance to his work. sometimes he wondered if you could hear his heart beating out of his chest whenever you were around, surely it wouldn’t take much to realize what’s going on here. he’d need for you to simply let him in and he’d be the happiest man in teyvat.

it really doesn’t take a detective to figure out he loved you, it was quite obvious really. how many words at minimum would it take for you to notice his love? even with heizou attempting to hide the feelings in his heart, the summer days spent with you made his feelings soar. sitting on the beach and watching the sunset together, he really couldn’t be happier. he knew he was helplessly in love with you, warmth creeping onto his face every time you smiled or laughed because of him.

so here he was, singing and dancing in the warm sand with you under the sun’s fading light. the crashing of the waves on the shore drowned out your voices, but he hadn’t a care in the world. with his hands in yours, your laugh as the both of you fell into the cool water, he couldn’t be happier. even if both your clothes were now wet, you didn’t care even one bit as his lips met yours.

ever since the day he met you, he feigned indifference and rudeness to hide his feelings for you. he was a perfect example of using his naturally intimidating demeanor to hide the love he held for you. a puppet made without a heart, you had given him all the more reason to continue living. the nameless wanderer was so into you that he couldn’t help but smile to himself after any interaction with you. of course, he wouldn’t be caught dead smiling over you. just like magic, he was immediately done in by you without your knowledge.

he wanted to hate you as much as he pretended he did, that much was true. even after he warmed up to your presence, he wanted to stop acting like his true self around you. he wished he could just shut you out again, yet he couldn’t stop wondering if you felt the same. he assumed you did, based solely off of your words and actions without even the slightest verbal proof. with every single touch of his puppet body, his heart beat out of his artificial chest. maybe he had known you in his past life, maybe his heart broke knowing you wouldn’t remember him.

yet, you seemed to love him in every iteration of his life. he knew it all along, he said as he held your hands and forced himself to confess. the more he tried to fill the metaphorical gap between you, the more he unintentionally forced himself away. sure, he’d admit that he was greedy for your love. it wasn’t that bad to be in love, was it? under a beautiful tree surrounded by colorful flowers, he had his first kiss. hundreds of years living, but you were the only one he ever seemed to want to be around. angry looks and scoffs had been replaced with smiles despite all odds.

[undyingoracle]

hai omg can you do alastor reacting to the person he's courting giving him flowers instead of the other way around

Alastor reacting to you giving him flowers.

warnings: gn!reader. romantic scenario. might be ooc. sorry about that.

A/N: I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS IDEA. At first, I wanted to write something like him just getting flattered by it? but I think he would be more upset and disappointed that he wasn't the one who was giving you flowers. after all, "he's a gentleman and should spoil his beloved with that kind of gifts every time he got the chance to." (that's what he thinks, at least). Hope you can enjoy it anon! ;; thanks for your request. ♡

English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. feel free to correct me as long as you're polite about it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝅭ㅤ𝅭ㅤ⎯⎯ㅤㅤִㅤㅤ୨ ♡ ୧ㅤㅤִ ⎯⎯ ㅤ𝅭ㅤ𝅭

February 14th. a date everyone knew the meaning of. a date where everyone did their best to show off to their loved ones, to spoil them or even fall into the deepest of the lustful desires.

however, for the radio demon it was a pretty irrelevant date. he didn't really saw the meaning of it, and therefore, he didn't get as excited as other people did, and it wasn't exactly because he didn't got gifts or attention during it, in fact he did get lots of gift, specially from people of the cannibal town (who seemed to like him quite a lot). however, all those gift were meaningless to him, and he even hate most of them, since they're usually some kind of sweets, and he isn't really a fan of them, so they ended up in the trash or someone else's hands. he just didn't cared about it, nor the people who gave it to him.

nevertheless, this time it was a little different. he had someone in mind he wanted to give a gift to, and since a few weeks ago that thought has been running around his mind. but being quite unused to being on the giving end on this dates, he was conflicted on what to get to his special someone. flowers? he already got them flowers before, a lot of times and a lot of different types and colors. chocolates? he couldn't even stand the sweet smell of them. other kind of desserts had the same effect. and just like that, he keep discarding ideas that wasn't good enough for him. he wanted to blow you mind, he couldn't just do the simplest things!

soon enough, he asked for advice to the best person: Rosie, who, after giving some other ideas that were also discarded, ended up suggesting that he invited you to have dinner together, but instead of going out to a fancy restaurant, both of you just stayed at the hotel and HE cooked the most mind blowing meal himself. that way not only was he able to show off his cooking skills, but he also was able to make sure that everything was perfect. to the decoration, to the lighting, to the ambience music, to the flavors. he was simply in control of everything. he agreed to this, he thought it was a perfect idea!

so the next day, he went to ask Charlie for help at having a space for you and him alone. she agreed excitedly, of course, and promised him that absolutely no one was going to interrupt their perfect date. so, with her help, he got the kitchen, dining room, and a balcony all for himself.

when the day itself arrived, he immediately started decorating the dining room and balcony, with just a little magic it was a quick process. the table had a pretty dark red tablecloth, in the middle of it were some light up candles. it was just what you expect to see at a table on a romantic dinner really, kind of the cliché stuff. the balcony, however, had some lights wrapped around the railing, you could find some flower petals from the table leading the way to the entrance of the balcony. he wanted it to be the most unforgivable night of your life! that way, even if you ever (tried to because hes not letting thay happen) leave him, you would remember him whenever this date came around.

he also cooked some fancy dishes, some simpler meals that he knew you liked, and Rosie got him some sweets (against his will) that she knew you would love. everything was made for you to love.

soon enough, the time for the date came around, and you showed up. as you were standing before him, he tilted his head, confused as to why you kept you arms behind your back.

— Darling, are you perhaps hiding something from me?

he asked as you giggled. then, you pulled a bouquet of flowers from behind you back and extended it to him, holding it with both hands as you said "happy valentine's day!" excitedly. he looked at you in shock. you got him flowers. and he didn't. you prepared such a beautiful bouquet for him, and he didn't? he felt disappointed in himself for not getting you something as basic as a bouquet of flowers. how could he not get something like that for you? how could he even think of not getting such a beautiful gift to you? he could have made it the best and biggest bouquet ever and he didn't! how could he-

— Hey, Al? Are you ok?

he came back to his senses when you spoke to him. he looked at your worried expression and just chuckled.

— You just took me by surprise, my dear! I wasn't expecting to get such a beautiful and heartfelt gift from you. I am truly flattered by such a cute gesture!

— You're sure? You seem a little... down.

— Well, I am a bit disappointed in myself. After all, such a beautiful person gave me such beautiful flowers, but I didn't get them flowers! How could a gentlemen forget to bring flowers to his date? For shame.

he replied in a joking tone, making you laugh. your laugh was absolutely worth everything to him, he adored it and he loved seeing you so happy.

— Don't worry silly! you already planned all this, didn't you? that's more than enough for me.

after you were done talking he extended his hand to you, taking the bouquet in his other hand as he lead your way to the table. he wanted that night to be something that you wouldn't forget, but he didn't planned for it to be a night that he also wouldn't forget because of a little surprise. not that he was complaining though.

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 11

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

ღ summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

ღ wc 13.5 k (enjoy your meal lol)

ღ warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, overdosing, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive and abusive behavior, manipulation, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note hey loves!! thank you so much for your patience, i know it's been a while. buckle up, because we're taking another trip inside satoru's mind, so yeahhh. it's gonna be wild, oh and we're continuing right were we left off in the last chapter. this chapter is again in satoru's pov!! i've also updated the trigger warnings, so please take a look before reading (might be spoiling tho). and lastly, credit to the fanart in the cover, if you know the artist, pls let me know!! can't wait to hear what you all think & thanks for sticking with me!! ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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They say before you can love someone else, you have to love yourself first.

And there lies the damn problem. 

I don't know how. 

Never have.

Why am I thinking this now? 

I knew this was right. 

Right for her. 

But then why does my heart feel like it's being ripped out by the fucking roots?

Suguru will take care of her. He always does. That's the only thing that keeps me from screaming, keeps me from chasing after her.

I trust him, damn it, but it shouldn't be him.

It should be me holding her. Me, who knows how she likes to be held when the panic claws its way up. Me, holding her until the world feels less sharp, less cruel.  

Me, who knows that she doesn't want to talk about it. Me, who knows to give her space. She needs space. My strong girl needs space first. 

I hope he gives her space.

But he wouldn't know any of this. He couldn't comfort her in the ways I instinctively knew how. 

Me, who knows how to soothe the invisible wounds, the ones even she denies exist. Me, who knows the soft words she needs to hear after it passes.

It shouldn't be him. 

Sorry. 

It shouldn't have been him.

Past tense. 

It all might be past tense now.

And the thought is more than I could bear.

Shattered. 

Was that the word?

Was there even a word for what I felt in that moment?

How could I ever convey this suffocating agony that's tearing me apart with mere words?

Words are meaningless in the end.

Meaningless when they couldn't be spoken to her, couldn't reach her, couldn't make her understand, couldn't heal the wound I'd carved into her heart.

So, yeah, maybe shattered is the right word. 

The wrong word.

The sterile air was acid in my lungs. Each ragged breath felt like sandpaper against my throat. I held my breath, a desperate plea for the world to stop spinning, for the clock to rewind, for a chance to undo everything.

But time doesn't care. 

It marched on, relentless, while I stayed trapped in this hell, drowning in the mess I made. 

My lungs burned. My vision blurred. I waited until she disappeared. The world seemed to tilt sideways, losing all color and shape, leaving only the sharp, agonizing realization that I'd made her walk away.

I didn't want to breathe anymore.

Not in a world where every breath ached without her.

"Dr. Gojo?" A voice, distant, muffled. 

Irrelevant.

My gaze flickered to Sukuna. He watched, a predator savoring the kill. 

His twisted smile fueled rage within me. But there would be no fighting this. No grand defense. Not when her life was the bargaining chip.

So, I lied. 

Each word a nail in the coffin of the connection I craved more than life itself.

Each word a drop of poison forced down my throat. A self-inflicted wound, a desperate mutilation of the only thing that had ever felt real.

Her eyes, those beautiful eyes I loved so fiercely, wide with confusion and horror. The strangled gasp, the way her body went limp in Geto's arms — a haunting image that would forever be etched on my heart.

Muscles screamed, a silent protest against my own pathetic stillness. But I remained frozen. 

This was my punishment. 

I had to watch her leave, had to sear the pain into my very being, an endless penance for the choices I'd made.

The door clicked shut behind them.

That simple sound, final, absolute.

My lungs filled with air, a betrayal. Oxygen I didn't deserve, didn't want. 

My own body, this treacherous thing kept going, kept me alive against my will, kept me tethered to this cruel reality.

The room swam back into focus, the judges' accusing faces nothing but a blurry backdrop. The sounds of their inquest washed over me like meaningless noise.

"Dr. Gojo? Can we continue?"

I nodded.

They pressed on. More questions about the research, her involvement, their accusations of favoritism.

How stupid.

Of course, I favored her. 

How could I not? 

She is everything.

Oh, sorry. Forgot. Past tense.

She was everything.

Did I regret it? 

Did I wish I could go back and treat her with the same damn indifference I afforded everyone else?

Yeah, maybe.

A familiar craving stirred my senses, the desperate need for the numbing escape that would mean failing her even more. My fingers clawed at my forearm, trying to replace the hollowness with physical pain. It wasn't enough.

My responses were rote, mechanical.

Yeah, I favored her. 

Yeah, I let her into the OR because of it.

Yeah, and she outshone every damn surgeon twice her age. 

No, she didn't know I'd set it up. 

No, she never asked for special treatment. She just worked until her eyes were bloodshot, pushing harder than anyone else.

And hell no, she didn't do a single thing wrong.

Except maybe — maybe loving me. 

After what felt like an eternity, the judges seemed satisfied, or perhaps just exhausted by my robotic replies. 

They painted me the arrogant professor with a weakness for a young student, who abused his power, who played favorites.

Whatever they wanted to believe, fine.

Didn't even have the energy to care anymore.

Let them drag my name through the mud, tarnish the reputation I'd worked so hard to build. 

Because the title, the position, the facade of success meant nothing when all I wanted was to rewind time, to undo the damage I'd done to the one person who truly mattered.

I didn't feel anymore.

I was done.

─── ·✧· ───

I burst out of the courtroom.

I needed escape, not just from this sterile prison of a room, but from my own traitorous flesh.

That itch.

It was a wildfire beneath my skin, a thousand insects gnawing their way to the surface. My fingers twitched, claws desperate to tear, to bleed out the poison of this relentless craving.

My legs moved without conscious thought, pushing me towards my office. Somewhere. Anywhere I would be able to breathe again. The guilt was a serrated blade twisting in my gut, each movement slicing me open anew.

Her terror-stricken eyes seared into my very soul.

The walls of my office closed in, the familiar space suddenly too small, too suffocating. 

My fist slammed into the desk. Papers scattered to the floor, a meaningless sea of white against the dark wood.

They didn't matter. None of it mattered.

A half-finished coffee mug followed. Porcelain shattered. Dark liquid splashed against the wall. 

My blood roared in my ears. 

Across the room, my framed diploma. I ripped it off the wall. Glass smashed. Sharp edges bit into my palm, drawing blood. But it wasn't enough. I hurled the frame against the wall.

Blood, hot and slick, coated my hands, the pain nothing.

In the shattered frame, I caught a glimpse of myself — wild eyes in a sweat-slicked face, a man on the verge of collapse.

It was a stranger.

I was across the room before I even registered the decision.

The drawer.

My fingers ripped it open. 

There, like a coiled viper, the amber vial gleamed, a venomous promise of oblivion.

Don't —

Don't come at me now. 

Did you really think I wouldn't keep a backup?

My hand reached, then hesitated.

The world lurched to a sharp halt as a knock pierced the chaos. My breath hitched, the vial a burning brand in my bloodied hand.

The door creaked open.

And there he was. Sukuna. 

He leaned against the doorframe, that sickening smirk plastered on his face. It was like a lit fuse to a powder keg. The rage that had been gnawing at my insides, tearing me apart, finally found its target.

Before a single rational thought could form, I was on him. Fist to jaw, heard the crack, felt it in my knuckles. He stumbled back, the smirk finally wiping off his face.

I pinned him against the door. Forearm across his throat, crushing his windpipe. His eyes widened, but even then, there was that damn flicker of amusement.

"Well, well," he choked out, "this is a nice welcome back."

"Funny to you?"

He coughed, a harsh laugh scraping out of him. "C'mon, Satoru, relax. I did you a favor," he sputtered. "Your precious little student, she's better off now. You know I'm right."

Every muscle in my body tensed.

He was right. 

In his twisted way, he was. 

And that's what made it all so much worse.

My grip on his throat tightened. But there was nothing, no satisfactio, no release in the violence.

Sukuna saw it, the hesitation. His mouth twisted into a smirk again. "See, you get it. Sweet thing doesn't belong in this mess, does she? It's not for her, Satoru. It's for us."

His words scraped like nails on a chalkboard. 

Yes, she was safer now, untouched by the rot that festered within me. Some desperate, logical part of me clung to that. But how could I hold on to that when my heart was screaming for her closeness?

"Or maybe," Sukuna drawled, pushing the knife deeper, "maybe you wanted to see where this goes. Stain her a bit, make her just a little bit more like you."

My breath hitched. For a split second, the floor vanished beneath me.

"Hit a nerve, did I?"

"Shut the hell up!" I couldn't face it, couldn't face the ugly truth as it would tear me apart. "You twist everything. Play with lives just for your own sick amusement."

This was his game.

Sukuna thrived on chaos, on exploiting pain. 

He knew my guilt, my fear for her, and wielded it like a scalpel, laying bare the raw nerve of my fragile sanity.

"Perhaps. But ain't I right?  You needed to end it, but you lack the guts for it. Waited a bit longer, it'd be a total disaster."

I hesitated, then my grip on him slackened. I stepped back.

"You know I'm right," Sukuna continued. "You know how this would have ended. Suspension. Scandal. She'll be doomed forever for getting involved with her professor for favors. You wouldn't destroy her like that, would you? You're not that cruel."

"I'm not so sure." I ran a hand through my hair.  It had taken everything in me to push her away. 

But I can't deny that an ugly part of me wanted to keep her close. Drag her down with me. 

See her drown.

"Damn, you hit hard," he said, rubbing his jaw. "Go beat up some students again, not me."

"Stop giving me reasons to punch you."  Exhausted, I slumped into my desk chair, burying my face in my hands. My head pounded, the infuriating itch worsening with each damn moment. "Was this your plan all along?"

"What?" he scoffed.

I lifted a single eyebrow at him.

"You think that low of me? Honestly, Toru, a bit of credit, please. It was your pathetic indecision that made this entertaining. You basically gift-wrapped this mess and handed it to me."

"Besides," he continued, "let's be honest, you were holding her back. Now maybe she'll have a chance to become someone who might surpass you one day. You wouldn't deny her that, would you? No thanks needed."

He was right, and I hated that more than anything.

Sukuna sank into the chair across from me, a picture of smug satisfaction despite the visible bruise. "Damn, that punch still stings."

I opened my desk drawer and wordlessly tossed him the bottle of opioids. His eyes widened in surprise, before he gave the bottle a knowing shake. "Still on the hydromorphone?"

I didn't answer. The sound alone threatened to shatter what fragile control I had left. The itch was unbearable, each nerve ending screaming for relief.

Sukuna observed me, a predator watching its prey struggle. "Withdrawal never suited you," he said, popping a pill. "You always get so—" he paused, savoring the word, "—tense."

"Yeah, real supportive of you."

"Actually, I'm being incredibly supportive. I'm leaving for a little research trip overseas—four months. Ethics committee can't meet without me, so—" He leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. "Gives you time to get your shit together. Isn't that nice of me?"

"Shut the hell up."

"C'mon, I put in a good word for you too. No suspension for now. You can keep teaching, just no surgeries. Yaga really hates my guts, doesn't he? But hey, at least you're not totally screwed."

"You expect a thank you?"

"Relax, Toru, the show's over," he said. "Trust me, they don't want a scandal, let alone lose their star surgeon. When I get back, a slap on the wrist, maybe a semester's suspension, then you're back to the boring old grind."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Last I checked, you were the one pushing for a scandal."

He rolled his eyes. "Someone had to do it. Knew you'd drag this out forever, playing the tragic hero. Needed a villain to get things moving." He gave a mocking bow. "At your service, my friend."

"Also," he continued, leaning forward in his chair, "the focus is off you now. The committee's sniffing around those implant engineers. Funny, isn't it?" 

Sukuna paused, savoring the moment. "Honestly, never thought there was anything wrong with your surgeries. You wouldn't make that kind of mistake. Tech malfunction more likely."

Of course. 

The bastard never doubted the damn research. It had all been a game to him — my career, my sanity, her — just pieces on his chessboard.

It should've made me furious, lash out, pound his face in again — but all I felt was a bone-deep exhaustion, a weariness that seeped into my very soul. I was too tired, too hollowed-out to do anything but swallow the bitter truth.

"That supposed to make me feel better?" 

"A little," he said, tossing the opioid bottle back. "This, though? That'll do the trick even better."

I caught it, my fingers clenching around the plastic.

He rose, stretching with a theatrical sigh. "Well, time to go. Remember, you owe me big time. You should take one," he gestured towards the pills, "you look like shit."

My grip on the bottle tightened. I looked up at him. "When all of this is done, I never want to see your damn face again."

He laughed. "We both know that's a lie. You and me? We need each other."

"The only thing you need is some damn therapy."

"Ah, Toru," he dismissed me with a smirk, "you'll come crawling back soon enough. We both know how this works."

With that, he was gone. I was left alone in the echoing silence, the pill bottle a burning weight in my hand. The world seemed to sway around me, my eyelids growing heavy.

The will to fight simply wasn't there anymore.

─── ·✧· ───

Cruel. 

Cruel how one little pill can undo everything. 

Cruel how one little pill can silence everything. 

Cruel how one damn pill can soften the world, make it — bearable, almost.

Unfair. 

It's truly unfair.

The screaming under my skin, that relentless itch — it's still there, but it had dulled to a faint hum, pushed back by the familiar numbness.

Finally.

Oh, finally some fucking silence.

I let out a shaky breath. It wasn't peace, not really. I knew that all too well. Borrowed time, each second ticking closer to the inevitable crash, the return of that relentless screaming in my head.

But for now, it'll have to be enough.

I collapsed on the couch, smoke curling lazily before my eyes.

I knew I shouldn't mix opioids with cannabis. That's something they teach you within the first year of university. What I used to teach students within the first year of university.

What a hypocrite I am really.

Another drag — harsh, burning down my throat. 

The urge to close my eyes, to sink into oblivion, was almost overwhelming. But sleep wouldn't bring respite. Only nightmares. I knew that only too well.

So, I lay there, staring up at the ceiling.

It really came down to me failing again, huh?

What was it now?

Attempt number five? 

Six?

I started losing count.

Maybe this was my fate.

A broken record, stuck on the same damn track.

Deep down, under the chemical haze, guilt gnawed at me. It was a dull ache now, no longer the searing pain of earlier, but a constant, insidious reminder. 

She were out there, her life forever marked by my choices, while I was — here. Hiding in a haze of pills and smoke.

God, I hoped Suguru was looking after her. Making sure she ate, making sure she was safe — that she didn't hate me too much.

I brought the joint to my lips again, the smoke curling up towards the ceiling. It left an acrid taste in my mouth.

I watched my hand for a second.

Bloodied earlier, the wounds had scabbed over, the blood dried. It was perfectly still now, the trembling smoothed out by the chemicals in my blood. 

I clenched it into a fist, then unclenched, watching the movement like it belonged to someone else.

Traitor.

This body was a traitor — betrayed myself, betrayed her, betrayed everything I held dear.

Weak. 

Broken.

A pathetic mess.

Was that it?

Living as a slave to these chemicals to patch up my crumbling sanity one day at a time? 

Chained to pills, each dawn a ticking clock until the next dose, until I could silence the screaming for a few damn hours?

My eyes locked onto the half-empty vial on the table. 

Took too many, didn't I?

I knew that, even through the haze. But a cold certainty twisted in my gut. There'd be more. Always more. Until there was nothing left.

Before I could think, I threw another down my throat. Bad idea, probably, after a few clean days.

Suddenly, the haze warped, twisting into nausea. Bile rose in my throat.

I lurched to my feet, the world tilting precariously with each step. Surfaces rippled, the bathroom light stabbing into my skull.

I barely made it. My stomach heaved. Each retch wracked my body, leaving me gasping, weak.

Too many. 

Way too many.

How the hell did I forget? Forget my body's limits? Somehow, I felt like some reckless student again, stumbling through experiments, blind to the consequences.

Stupid. So damn stupid.

Darkness swam at the edges of my vision.  Another wave of nausea, and I was back, hunched over the toilet. 

I hauled myself up, hands shaking, clinging to the sink. In the mirror, a stranger stared back. Eyes bloodshot, a sheen of sweat coating his skin.

This wasn't me anymore.

I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the acid burn. Didn't help. Drops of water ran down my face, felt like they were melting the damn skin off.

My knees buckled. I slid down the wall, my head heavy against the tile wall. 

The bathroom light, needles in my brain moments ago, seemed impossibly distant now. Each breath was a ragged gasp, each pulse a dull throb in my temples.

I waited for it to pass, the nausea, the haze. But as minutes crawled by, a new, searing pain gnawed at me.

My fingers trembled against my abdomen, pressing into the tender spot. Liver, of course. 

Wrecked it, just like the rest of me. I'd known the risks, had ignored the warnings, and now my body was demanding payment.

How pathetic.

Darkness gnawed at the edges of my vision, pushing back against the stubborn spots of light. My head felt heavy, detached from my body. Arms and legs useless.

Each breath a battle I wasn't sure I'd win.

Time warped. Stretching, then snapping, leaving me floating in nausea and pain. Then I heard something — muffled, distant. Footsteps, getting closer.

My eyes struggled to make sense of the shifting shadows.

Then, a voice. Soft, achingly familiar. I couldn't make out the words, but the warmth of it—

I knew that voice — would always recognize it.

Cold water hit my skin. Hands, gentle, but firm, on my face. I strained to focus, to see her, to soak in the sight I needed, yet feared more than anything.

Oh, how desperately I needed to see her. Needed her to be real.

But my eyes betrayed me.

She must be so beautiful. She always was.

Then, a touch on my outstretched leg, a flash of metal — was that a scalpel?

Agony ripped through me, shattering the haze. I jerked back, my scream ragged against the tiles. My head slammed back with sickening force.

Before I knew it, a needle pierced my skin.

The room spun as whatever she'd injected battled the comfortable blur of the pills. Nausea churned in my stomach, the numbness receding with terrifying speed.

Groaning, I shifted on the floor.

My vision sharpened, my senses returning with brutal clarity. 

The first thing I noticed was the metallic glint of the discarded syringe beside my leg. 

Then the cut, a ragged gash through the fabric of my dress pants where she'd stabbed the needle in — the unnecessarily deep and brutal cut — but in the chaos, I let it slide. Didn't even register the pain as I watched the blood drain from the cut. 

I reached for the syringe and read the label. 

Adrenaline. 

Smart girl. 

But as I turned it over, a frown creased my brow. Two fucking milliliters? Was she trying to give me a damn heart attack?

I lifted my head, the question burning on my tongue. But the words died unspoken as my gaze locked on hers. 

She stood there, just a few feet away, her breath ragged, her eyes — those pretty eyes.

Terror. 

There was raw, unadulterated terror etched in her eyes. But I was right. She looked as beautiful as ever. Even with those terror-stricken eyes she was breathtaking.

She stumbled back, slumping against the wall opposite of me with a choked gasp, pulling her knees up. I didn't move, couldn't move, my gaze locked with hers.

The terror faded slowly, replaced by a weariness that was far worse. 

For a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of that familiar defiance, the spark I both loved and feared. But even that felt strangely muted now, as if even the energy to fight had been drained out of her.

She simply watched me. In silence, in that devastating silence.

How I hated her silence.

Because her silence was far worse than anything she could have screamed, any insult she could have hurled my way. Her stillness, her silence, was the most terrifying weapon she'd ever wielded against me.

And for the first time in a very long time, I was truly afraid.

Time stretched, then I choked out, "You're angry."

Her answer was blunt, devoid of emotion. "Oh really? What makes you think that?"

I glanced down. Blood still seeped from the gash in my leg. With a trembling hand, I fumbled for a towel and pressed it against the wound. "Your cut is kinda deep. Was that on purpose?"

She didn't say anything.

It probably was on purpose.

My gaze fell on the syringe. "Where'd you get that?"

"What happened to your hand?"

"I asked first."

"Don't try to play games now, Satoru. You're walking on thin fucking ice," she snapped.

"Shattered some glass," I said after a pause ", and punched Sukuna."

"Stole it from the hospital."

"What?"

"You think I'd date an addict and not have adrenaline on hand?"

My lips twitched into a weary smile. Oh my beautiful, brilliant girl, always prepared.

"But you know, two milliliters is a bit much." I moved my leg slightly to check if she had cut any tendons, which would complicate the healing a bit. "Or are you trying to kill me?"

Her gaze pierced me, colder than any scalpel. "Looks like you're doing a fine job of that yourself."

My smile faded.

Silence.

Oh, that cruel silence again.

She didn't say anything. Maybe I should be thankful for that, because if she said anything now, I'd probably crumble completely — if I haven't already.

Ironic, wasn't it? 

How much power this woman had over me. 

Yet it was me who destroyed her.

She dropped her head, ran a shaking hand through her hair, then looked at me again. "How much did you take?"

Huh?

Why would she ask that?

Didn't she see that it's over?

That I'm too far gone?

It was unbearable.

It was unbearable, how she could still look at me and see someone worth saving. It was unbearable, knowing she believed in me even when I didn't. 

Almost pissed me off, how stubbornly she clung to that stupid hope. Because seeing that hope in her eyes — it made me hate myself even more.

I wouldn't change, couldn't. Not for her, not for anyone.

"Doesn't matter. It's over."

"Satoru, please," she choked out, pain raw in her voice, the pain I caused, "cut the crap and tell me. Now."

"It doesn't matter," I repeated, my voice cold. I couldn't bear the flicker of hope, couldn't bear to fail her yet again.

Then, the first tear rolled down her cheek and my heart shattered, the fragments piercing me from within. 

I'd never wanted to be the reason those beautiful eyes filled with pain, the reason her sweet lips trembled. Every fiber of my being wanted to pull her close, erase the hurt I'd caused.

I would have given anything, sacrificed anything, if only I could make it stop.

But I couldn't.

Because I was the problem. I was the poison.

She buried her face in her hands. "I'm tired, Satoru."

"I know."

"I'm so fucking tired," she whispered through tears.

"I know, love."

My eyes burned as I watched her fragile body shudder. Each sob of her driving a stake deeper into my already bleeding heart. I bit my lip until I tasted blood. 

I hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself because — because I was the reason for all of this. 

She'd never wanted this, never wanted to fall in love with me to begin with, but I dragged her into it anyway.

Because I was selfish. 

Knew how it would end.

And now, I could only watch — only watch in this unbearable silence as the woman I loved wept over the man I hated. 

"It's for the best, believe me—"

"No," she cut me off.  "You're sacrificing me for this—this reputation of mine you think matters. It doesn't. I don't want any of it without you. I don't want a future where you're not in it."

She looked up then, eyes red and filled with unshed tears. "Because I love you, Satoru."

What?

The words turned my blood to ice.

After everything — the lies, the ways I'd hurt her, the desperate attempts to push her away — there it was, the confession I'd craved and feared in equal measure.

My heart was being ripped apart and stitched back together again in that very moment — vulnerable and yet so unbearably full. 

She loved me, she said it.

She loves me.

She loves me.

And I love her.

God, how I loved her. More than I thought possible.

I've never once loved in my entire life. 

Not until her. 

Not until she changed me completely. 

What is that, anyway? Love?

How can I possible describe the type of feeling I feel when I'm with her? How can I ever convey the words when they are not even clear to me? 

How cruel it is. How utterly cruel the type of feeling is, that she makes me feel.

Because how could I ever live without it.

Not when she showed me how to breathe.

How to live.

How could I ever go back to what I was before her — was there even something before her?

Not when she showed me how to breathe.

With her.

For her. 

Because she is the air that fills my lungs.

The pulse that keeps me alive.

And nothing can ever change that. So how could I ever go back to what I was before? 

Oh, how she tortures me, tortures me with feelings I rather not feel, tortures me with her love that I deserve so little. 

Nothing. 

I deserve nothing and yet she gives me everything.

Why can't I give it back? What chains me, binds this rotten heart? Why does it fail me so cruelly to love her the way she deserves? 

Because she does. 

She deserves everything. 

She is everything. 

Yet there is only my own failure in loving her. I'm failing her again and again. I hurt her again and again. I hate myself, hate myself for the pain I cause her.

Still—

How can I let her go, when she's the only good thing in my life? 

It is selfish, selfish to say the least, to want to keep her close when all I do is fail her.

Her tears were molten iron searing my insides. But I clench my jaw, refusing to let them break me. If she saw weakness, she might hesitate. Might stay and continue to be broken by me. 

Every fiber of my being wanted nothing more than to reach out, to comfort her, to tell her it would all be okay.

More lies for a heart that deserved nothing but the truth. So I swallowed down the love threatening to spill from my lips. 

I would give her anything, my life, the last shreds of my sanity — except the one thing she asked for, the only thing she ever ask for. 

Because loving her, truly loving her, meant letting her go. Even if it destroys me.

"I spare you," I rasped.

"No." She slowly shook her head. "You're killing me. Can't you see?" There was a cold edge in her voice now. "You're killing me."

"I can't change. Love isn't enough. I can't stop."

"You're the only one who thinks that." Her reply held a flicker of her old, beautiful defiance, a defiance I loved so dearly. "I'd follow you anywhere, Satoru. Even if you can't get clean, then so be it. I don't care. I won't leave you."

The sincerity in her voice was a blow, a beautiful, terrible blow. Complete, unwavering acceptance of who I was, in all my brokenness.

And in that moment, I finally realized. 

It wasn't about saving her. It was about saving myself from the terrifying vulnerability her love demanded. From the weakness that threatened to drown me if I let her in.

Perhaps I'm just a coward after all.

My heart was too damn small, too messed up. Of course I had to push her out, deny her the love she offered so freely — because it terrified me.

Her love terrified me.

"I can't do this to you," I choked out, the words scraping my throat raw. "You deserve—" I swallowed, the words catching in my throat. "You deserve better." 

"Better?" She leaned forward slightly. "You are my better."

Oh, love, that's not true.

You are my better. I'm your worst.

I wanted to say that, should've said that.

But I remained silent, unable to say anything. 

"Say something, Satoru." 

I couldn't, simply couldn't. Because mere words were too hollow, too insignificant against the depth of her pain.

"Say something, damn it!" 

"It will get easier someday," I chocked out. Each word felt like a stone I was forcing down my own throat. Each word empty — we both knew it.

"Is that what you hope for?"

"I have to."

She closed her mouth. Her silence more devastating than any scream. She didn't explode, as I half-expected. Instead, she straightened, her movements slow, weary.

I watched her, unable to move, unable to look away, as a horrifying realization bloomed across her face. It wasn't anger, wasn't sadness — it was a terrible understanding.

She knew. She always knew.

Perhaps that's what I hated about her the most.

"That's it?" she asked.

"That's it."

She watched me.  Not in anger, but with chilling detachment. Her eyes, usually so filled with warmth, were now as distant as those of a stranger. 

Still, I burned the image into my soul, knowing it might be the last time.

Then, without another word, she turned. And walked away.

When she finally disappeared from sight, a wave of crushing despair washed over me. It wasn't just the loneliness. It was the terrifying certainty that there was no going back from this. 

I had destroyed the best thing in my life — a sacrifice she didn't even ask for.

But then again, my sacrifice is really only an illusion after all, masking a desperate, terrified selfishness.

Because I'm selfish.

I do love her.  Gods, how I love her. 

But my fear was stronger.

And I was too damn weak to fight it.

─── ·✧· ───

Four weeks.

Was it four weeks?

I can't remember.

Time — it didn't tick or flow anymore. 

It was a shapeless thing. Punctuated only by the empty thump of my heart in this wrecked chest.

Those first days — or weeks, who knows? — they melted together in a haze. After she left, I was — raw. One giant exposed nerve.  

Each damn breath without the pills felt like scraping sandpaper across it, a reminder  of what I'd lost — no, what I'd destroyed.

So I was barely sober.

My body didn't even protest. At first, it was almost — nice? The rush, the way it wiped out not just the pain but any thought at all.

But the crash was always brutal. Mornings, if you could even call it that, I'd wake up shaking, sick to my stomach, and terrified of — what was I even terrified of? Somehow of everything and nothing at all. But I knew the fix for that. 

It was a sick, relentless cycle.

The phone rang, vibrated with messages. Suguru mostly. His messages growing more urgent with each unanswered text. Liver issues. Treatment. Something about irreversible damage.   

It was all white noise compared to the screaming in my head.

Her name, though, cut through the haze.

There were nights — or was it days? — when a desperate, clawing need to hear her voice, to see her face, would rise up in me. I'd reach for the phone, fingers hovering above her name. Then the fear would crush that impulse. 

I knew that reaching out to her would be the final act of cruelty.

So I stumbled on, each day collapsing into the next. 

Until the next semester started and I remembered I had an actual job.

─── ·✧· ───

I stood in the corridor outside the auditorium.

My fingers fumbled with the familiar pill bottle. Just enough to numb the edge, get me through the lecture. With a bitter swallow, I tilted the pill into my palm, chasing it down dry.

Four weeks. Four weeks of barely holding it together, four weeks since I almost OD'd, four weeks since she left, and the weight of it all threatened to crush me at any moment. 

Yet, muscle memory took over.

I limped slightly as I walked into the auditorium. My leg still hurt after she basically cut my muscle in half. 

She definitely did that on purpose. She was too smart not to not know what she was doing.

The usual chatter died down when I walked in.  Old routine. Time for the performance. Pretend I'm the professor, pretend like this whole thing isn't ripping me apart, piece by piece. It should have been comforting. 

Once, perhaps, it was.

Wordlessly, I grabbed a marker, scrawled my name on the board. Like they didn't already know who I was, right? 

Everyone on campus knows, especially after this summer's mess.

With a sigh, I turned towards the class.

And there she was. 

My breath hitched, the marker clattering to the floor. My lips parted, but no words came.

Of course.

Of fucking course. 

Second-year lecture. 

How the hell could I forget that?

She was here, after everything, right in front of me. The pain of the past weeks, that suffocating emptiness — it all melted away, replaced by a pounding headache in that one instant.

My eyes clung to her, unable to look away, drinking in the sight of her. That stubborn tilt of her head, the pain in those beautiful eyes — God, how I'd missed her. 

Yet with every beat of my yearning heart came a fresh wave of guilt. I longed to reach out, to apologize, to tell her how much I'd missed her. 

But I knew it was wrong. 

Then, it hit me. Every eye in the room was on her, following my gaze like a spotlight burning into her. Damn it.

Still, she didn't flinch.

Endured it like she has always endured everything.

Clearing my throat, I managed to speak as I adverted my gaze. "So, uh, let's start the lecture."

My voice echoed in the now tense auditorium, words tumbling out in a forced attempt at normalcy. The lecture blurred. My own words were just noise in my head. I pushed through the lecture. Don't even remember what I lectured about.

It was routine, should have been easy, but — not with her there. Never with her. 

Every damn minute, my eyes flicked towards her, drawn like a magnet. I couldn't help it. Because all I could see was her. But she avoided my gaze.

Should've expected that.

Shouldn't make me angry, right?

Still did.

Finally, thank god, the bell rang. 

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

I remained behind my desk and gathered my notes. Students surged towards the exit, a faceless blur of motion. My traitorous gaze remained locked on her as the auditorium slowly emptied.

She and her friends passed by me. Before I could even think, the words tumbled out, "Wait, not—not you, first-year."

Silence. 

Her friend's chatter halted abruptly. I hadn't meant to say it, hadn't thought before the desperate need to speak to her had short-circuited my brain.

Now, it was done.

Her eyes, those beautiful eyes, met mine. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. 

Her friends exchanged glances. I could feel Zenin glaring daggers at me, didn't even need to look. She'd always been fiercely protective.

"I'll catch up later," she said then to her friends, a strained smile plastered on her face. 

They left, leaving us alone in the vast, suddenly suffocating auditorium.

Silence again.

My heart hammered against my ribs, so loud I feared she could hear it.

Finally, she spoke. "You know I'm not a first-year anymore."

I rounded the desk, the wood rough against my fingertips. "Yeah, right. Sorry." Leaning against it, I crossed my arms.

"Didn't you get suspended?"

"They postponed it."

She watched me for a moment, those beautiful eyes drilling into me. Her eyes held a coldness I've never seen before. For a sickening moment, I thought I might throw up.

"How are you?"

"Don't," she snapped. "Don't ask me that. Don't you dare pretend to care after—" 

She stopped herself, the silence louder than any accusation. After everything you did. After you pushed me away. After you nearly killed yourself.

She didn't need to voice it.

My hands clenched into fists against the edge of my desk, nails digging into my palms in a futile attempt to ground myself. Needed to maintain this thin illusion of control.

I do care. Dammit, I care more than you'll ever know. 

I wanted to scream it, to tear open my chest and show her the bleeding wound she'd left behind. But the words stuck in my throat. 

Pointless now, anyway.

Knuckles turned white, nails digging deeper.

She stepped closer. Her hand darted into her bag, then shot out, palm open. Keys glinted in the harsh light — the keys to my apartment. 

I watched them for a second. Should've expected that. Shouldn't hurt me. Still did.

"You don't have to return them. I want you to keep them."

"Why? I won't need them anymore, will I? Or are you planning on overdosing again?"

Each word was acid on an open wound.

I deserved this, the anger, the contempt, it was all on me. But why the hell did it make me so fucking angry?

"Have you ever thought about how I felt when I found you?" she snapped, her voice rising. "How terrified I was when you wouldn't respond? When you couldn't even recognize me? When I thought you'd die on me?" She took a shaky breath. "Fuck Satoru, I held your face in my hands while you were barely breathing!"

I tried to speak, but she cut me off.  "Don't. You. Dare."

"Four weeks," she went on, her voice sharp, laced with a fury that cut to the bone. "Four weeks of silence. Ever think I might be drowning, haunted by what I saw? Or were you too busy numbing yourself with pills? Hell, I didn't even know if you'd overdosed for good this time!"

Her words hit me cold, but they weren't the storm tearing me apart. It was the image of her, terrified, holding my barely-alive body, that ripped my insides out. 

Those eyes — her eyes filled with a terror that was all because of me. The guilt choked me. Seeing my near-death through her haunted eyes is twisted a knife in my gut.

It was the look of someone who'd had a piece of her soul ripped out. 

It was the look of someone who loved me.

"But then again, you never cared about me, did you?" she added, the raw hurt bleeding beneath the anger.

My stomach twisted. "Don't you dare say that," I rasped, the words ripping from my throat. "I care so much it damn near killed me. You were the only thing keeping me alive, the only reason I fought at all! Don't you dare say I don't—" I choked, the pain unbearable.

The room seemed to tilt, my anger threatening to consume me. 

I took a step towards her, closing the distance in one move. We were so close, I could smell her damn shampoo. "Every damn thing I did, every stupid decision—it was all because I care about you too much."

Her eyes widened. But only for a second. Then, that cold defiance was back, and it cut deep. 

"You're really pathetic, you know that?" she spat. "You talk about caring, but in the end you threw everything away. Because you are too terrified to let yourself love me. Because apparently your own damn peace is worth more than me."

Her words were knives, finding their mark with cruel efficiency. 

"Shut up," I whispered. "You know nothing."

"Oh really?" She glared at me, "then let me paint the picture for you—the minute things got difficult, the second you had to face actual consequences for your actions, you used it as an excuse to back away. Shut yourself down."

She moved closer still. "Convenient, wasn't it? Pushing me away, destroying us—it absolved you from having to confront anything real."

Her accusations hit uncomfortably close to home.

And I didn't want to hear it from her lips.

Not from hers.

"Shut up," I growled.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up," she snapped back, her voice rising. "You don't get to play the victim here. You did this. You ruined everything."

Fury ignited, not at her, but at myself. 

Blindly, I reached out, my fingers gripping her jaw so tight it bordered on violence. I forced her to look at me, my eyes burning into hers. "Shut up, or I swear to god, I'll make you."

Her chin lifted, eyes narrowing. "I dare you."

The words set me on fire. Every rational thought, every vestige of self-preservation was devoured by a sudden, desperate need. My gaze fell to her lips, slightly parted, a vulnerable target I craved to claim.

Without even thinking, my hand went to her waist, fingers digging in as I pulled her impossibly close. My other hand tangled in her hair, forcing her head back. Our eyes locked, some kind of messed-up challenge.

I could feel her rapid breaths on my skin, smell that damn perfume of hers that I'd always loved, but now was driving me to the edge of control. Her heart pounding against mine.

Everything in me screamed to close the distance, claim those lips that had haunted me, haunted me for weeks. 

I wanted to claim her, to silence her, to lose myself in her, but my last shred of sanity held me back.

Because pushing her further into my nightmare was the ultimate act of cruelty. 

"Uncomfortable, isn't it? Getting confronted with the ugly truth?" she whispered against my lips.

My grip on her tightened. She really didn't know when to stop, or maybe she simply wanted to watch me burn. Perhaps both.

"Don't push me."

"Why? Scared of what you'll find if you let yourself be honest for once?" Her head tilted. Her gaze was fire, and I was already ash. "You run, Satoru. From everything, but most of all, from yourself."

"And that," she leaned closer, almost brushing my lips, "is what makes you the most pathetic person I know."

Oh, she could be so viciously cruel when she wanted to. So disgustingly cruel. It was one of the things I'd fallen hopelessly in love with. Even now, as it tore me apart, I still loved it. 

But I also wanted nothing more than to fuck that attitude out of her right then and there.

"You're right. You're always right. Maybe that's what's terrifies me about you so much."

"You're not terrified of me," she whispered. "You're terrified of yourself."

The air between us crackled. Every rational thought in my brain begged me to stop. Still, I couldn't resist. I inched closer, helpless against the force that binds and burns us both.

My hands tightened their hold as I took a sharp inhale. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling. 

Our lips hovered, almost touching, two aching souls suspended in that impossible space. So much unspoken words, so much hurt, and the destructive pull between us that had always tethered us together.

Then, the auditorium door creaked open. 

Her head snapped towards the sound. But I couldn't look away, wouldn't miss a second of her. Because this, right here, was all I had left.

Had to be Suguru anyway — anyone else would be screaming their heads off by now.

After a pause, she turned back at me. "You know, I'm still waiting."

"For what, love?"

"For it to get easier."

I looked at her, the woman I loved, and guilt clawed at my insides. That hurt, that anger on her face — I deserved it all. Because it was the consequence of the pain I'd caused.

"You said it would get easier," she added.

It was a lie. Nothing about this was easy. Nothing ever would be again. Suddenly, the room felt too small, the air thick and unbreathable.

"I don't know if it ever will."

Perhaps I was only meant to love her in silence.

In distance.

Because at least then I couldn't hurt her anymore.

Suguru cleared his throat. He stepped into the room, breaking the moment.

Reluctantly, I let go of her. She stepped back, eyes holding mine for a second, something flickering there that I didn't dare try to read. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

I watched her go.

Suguru approached me, stopping close by. He didn't say anything.

I leaned against the desk, running a hand through my hair. The adrenaline from that almost-kiss crashed, leaving behind a hollow ache.

The sound of the door slamming behind her echoed in the empty auditorium, way too loud.

Suguru's hand landed on my shoulder. 

"You really have a thing for bad timing," I muttered.

"Bad timing," he echoed, "or good timing to stop you from doing something stupid?"

I didn't answer. The memory of her, so close, choked every thought out of my mind.

"You know it was the right thing to do. With everything going on, letting her go was the right decision."

"I know," I said, pushing off the desk and rounding it to gather my things. I couldn't meet his gaze. "I'm trying to remember that."

Suguru then started placing pill bottles on the desk with a serious expression. The first clink of plastic on wood cut through the silence. 

"Prednisone for the liver inflammation." Another bottle. "Lactulose for the hepatic encephalopathy." Then another. "Vitamin B and K for the nutritional deficiencies."

"But you know the first step would be to—" he paused for a second then placed another two bottles in from of me. "Methadone, to manage the withdrawal and craving. And Naltrexone, to block the euphoric effects of your opioids."

Hesitantly, another bottle appeared. "Clonidine, in case you feel like you're dying."

"Suguru—" I began, but he cut me off.

"Satoru, you have to get clean. The pills won't do a damn thing if you keep wrecking your liver."

"Yeah, it's a little late for that, don't you think? It's the only thing keeping me sane right now."

He sighed.  "You're the absolute worst patient ever."

"Aw, come on, I thought you liked a bit of challenge. You're the best doctor, you'll figure something out."  I rummaged through my bag, pulling out a folder.

"Even the best doctor on earth can't help if you don't—"

I shoved the folder across the desk, cutting him off. "What's this?"

"It's a patient. An anyeurism. I'm still not allowed to do surgery, not until this thing with the ethics committee is over."

Suguru opened the folder, flipping through the pages.  "You want me to do it?  Is there something special about this patient?"

"I want you to take her with you," I said quietly. "She likes aneurysm clippings."

Suguru looked up, that familiar crease between his brows.  "She'll figure it out. Sooner or later. Latest when you're in the hospital waiting for a liver transplant, not lecturing anymore."

Silence stretched. My eyes fell on the pill bottles lined up on the desk. 

I sighed, then gathered them and crammed them into my bag.  "Let's go. I need fresh fair," I said as I brushed past him, putting the withdrawal meds back into his hands.

Without another word, I left the auditorium.

─── ·✧· ───

My eyes snapped open.

I sat upright, a strangled gasp tearing from my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat threatening to burst right out of my chest. 

For a disorienting second, the world was a blur. Sweat drenched my skin. My lungs screamed for air.

Damn nightmares. 

Another night of that shit. 

I clutched at my chest, trying to quell the frantic pounding. Cold sweat made my shirt cling to my skin. The room spun. My pulse thundered in my ears.

I fumbled for the lamp, the sudden brightness stinging my eyes. But it didn't chase away the image seared into my brain. Her face, cruel, beautiful, cruelly beautiful, twisted in absolute terror. My stomach twisted.

My fault. 

Always my fault.

I couldn't breathe right.

Sleep was a lost cause now. First decent rest in a week, and my brain decided to torment me again. Exhaustion was its own kind of hell, but it was nothing compared to this. That, more than anything, was the real torture.

I slumped forward, scrubbing a hand over my face.

I'd hurt her. 

I'd hurt her, the one person who meant something.

Every day, it felt more like I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. Letting her go, pushing her away, I—

I hated myself. 

Hated the way I ruined everything.

Hated the way I ruined every chance at something good. 

It was like a damn curse.

Nothing good ever lasted for me. I should've known that by now.

Damn it, I knew it was wrong. But how the hell could it be wrong when it'd felt so damn right? When she was the only thing, the only person, that cut through the crap, made this whole mess seem like it might have some sort of meaning?

How could that possibly be wrong?

Guilt ate at my insides. Had I been a damn coward? Too scared to fight for something that made me feel, really feel?

Perhaps.

Easier to push her away, sabotage the whole damn thing, than risk actually letting her in. Letting anyone in. Losing control. But it didn't matter now, did it? 

It was over. 

I needed out. Out of my head, out of this apartment, out of my own damn skin. 

The silence was unbearable.

I pushed off the bed, muscles screaming in protest. I slipped into running clothes, the routine automatic. As I laced up my shoes, a sharp sting shot through my leg from the still-healing cut on my leg.

That bitch. 

The more I thought about it, the more sure I was she'd done it on purpose.

Good thing I was addicted to painkillers, huh?

I drowned a pill — no two, for good measure — before stepping outside into the pre-dawn chill. 

Cold autumn air bit at my skin. Each step echoed on the empty street. The pills kicked in, dulling the sharp pain in my leg. Good. Long as the cut didn't split open, I didn't damn care.

I pushed myself, needing the burn in my muscles, the ache in my lungs, to drown out the constant echo of her voice, her name, in my head.

The world blurred. Streetlights, shadows, it all melded together. The only reality was the ache in my body, the cold air forcing its way into my lungs. My mind, for once, was mercifully blank. 

No nightmares, no guilt, no memories of her haunted eyes — just the simple focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

I didn't set a goal, didn't choose a destination. 

Just moving, pushing, escaping.

Sweat dripped, but I barely registered. With each mile, the crushing weight eased. Not gone, hell, not even close to forgotten, but  — manageable. 

I ran until the city was a smear of lights, until my legs burned and my lungs screamed. 

Finally, gasping for breath, legs threatening to give out, I stumbled to a halt. The neon lights of a Seven Eleven cut through the pre-dawn darkness. My throat was sandpaper. I pushed through the door.

Inside, the harsh lights stung my eyes. I grabbed a water, my body on autopilot as I shuffled toward the register. The bored-looking teenager behind the counter gave me a sidelong look as I fumbled for my wallet.

"Rough night?"

"Something like that." I glanced down at my leg, the still-healing cut a visible red line. Wincing, I shifted my weight, favoring the uninjured side. 

I pulled out my card to pay, but then a flash of color caught my eye. Beside the cashier's register, stacked in a gaudy pyramid, was a display of energy drinks. I starred at them for a second, the name oddly familiar.

I knew why the name was so familiar.

I reached for a can and placed it on the counter. "And this."

Outside, I downed the water in a matter of seconds. Then, I cracked open the energy drink. The first sip hit my tongue. Surprisingly, it didn't taste half-bad without a shot of stale coffee to ruin it. 

But the taste wasn't the problem, wasn't it? 

Memories flooded back. Her, hunched over a massive anatomy textbook in the dim library, those beautiful eyes ringed with exhaustion. Beside her, half-empty, a mug of coffee — spiked with the sickeningly sweet energy drink I currently held.

Just the thought of that awful mixture made my stomach turn.

Still, a smile tugged at my lips.

Dammit, I didn't want to think about her. But to be fair, thinking, not thinking — it was all the same. The dull, constant ache of her absence throbbed beneath it all.

I chugged the rest of the energy drink, crushing the can in my hand.

Ah, fuck it.

Before my sanity could interfere, my legs were in motion.

I knew this was wrong. Knew every step took me closer to more pain. Knew all along this was stupid, reckless — inevitable. 

I couldn't stop.

The pull towards her was too damn strong. I needed to see her, to confirm her existence, to know she was real, to fix — what? What the hell could I fix? What the hell did I even think I was doing?

Finally, gasping for breath, I stumbled to a halt outside her apartment building.

A glance at my watch confirmed the hour — well past 3 am. Insane. I hadn't expected her to be awake. Just needed the pathetic reassurance of her presence. But as I looked up, my breath hitched. 

In a second-floor window, a flicker of warm light spilled into the darkness. And there, etched against that warmth — her silhouette. Unmistakable.

A heavy exhale escaped my lips. 

She was there.

Here.

On this same cursed world with me.

My heart pounded against my ribs. I knew, I had no right to be here. But god, I needed this, needed to see her.

She sat on the windowsill, book in hand. My future wife. Even in the dead of night, she was studying. How I loved her.

My gaze traced the familiar curve of her shoulders, the way the soft lamplight painted her skin with warmth, highlighting the strands of hair escaping her messy bun. 

In that stolen moment, I could almost convince myself that things were different, that my actions hadn't irrevocably shattered something precious.

But then, she moved. Rising from her seat, she stretched, drawing the fabric of her shirt upwards. Before my mind could catch up, she was at the window, pushing it open. I froze.

She was staring down — right at me. 

Shit.

I held my breath. For what felt like an eternity, we simply stared at each other. A muscle in her jaw twitched. Then her gaze dropped, breaking eye contact.

"You're bleeding."

I glanced down. The edge of my shorts was soaked through, a fresh stain of crimson spreading. Damn it. The cut had reopened.

"Yeah," I said, looking back up at her, "I'm a mess."

I braced myself for whatever was coming. The anger, the disgust, the righteous fury — it would all be justified. I deserved it. But she simply watched me. Her gaze was steady, devoid of emotion. 

"You know where the entrance is," she said finally, then leaned back into the soft glow of her room and closed the window shut.

Before my brain could catch up with how wrong this was, I walked toward the apartment building.

─── ·✧· ───

I sat on the edge of her bed, she on a chair in front of me, her hands already on my leg as she pushed the fabric of my shorts up. "How could you not notice that?"

I opened my mouth, but she cut me off, "Wait, forget it." 

Yeah. Now she remembered.

With practiced efficiency, she began cleaning the wound. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, considering how pissed she must be. 

The silence was heavy, broken only by the rustle of bandages and my occasional  sharp intake of breath when the antiseptic hit a raw spot.

My eyes wandered. Her space, even small and half-finished, felt warm, lived in. Smelled like her. Books spilling everywhere, papers scattered on a desk, a yoga mat forgotten in the corner — the organized chaos was so perfectly her.

Then my gaze landed on the half-unpacked boxes stacked against the wall. She really still didn't fully move in. Occupied with my mess, huh? 

Guilt flooded me. I didn't deserve this, didn't deserve her gentle hands on me, not after everything. 

Yet, a selfish part of me wanted nothing more than to stay exactly like this, wanted nothing more than to keep her hands on me.

With a sigh, I sank back against her pillows. Exhaustion seeped into my bones. Pain returned as the effects of the pills wore off.

Her fingers brushed the reopened cut. I winced, throwing an arm over my eyes. The relentless pounding in my head threatened to split me open, spilling all the ugly thoughts onto her pristine sheets.

"You've had nightmares again, haven't you?"

Huh? 

I lifted my head a fraction, struggling to meet her eyes. She glanced up briefly, her eyes guarded, then focused back on my leg.

"Yeah, something like that." My head thumped back onto the pillow. "Hard to sleep when your head won't shut up."

"What dose?"

"You really don't want to know."

"I asked because I do," she countered. The sharp tug as she tightened the bandage around my leg was enough to make me speak.

"Ten milligrams," I admitted, wincing. "The usual."

She scoffed, then another, even sharper, tug had me gritting my teeth. "Ngh—fuck," I moaned. 

I really needed a pill now.

She stood, gathering the first-aid supplies. "Heals slowly, doesn't it?"

I knew it.

I popped myself up on one elbow, raising an eyebrow at her. 

"Don't give me that look. You know damn well you deserved it."

I let out a dry laugh. "You really are a bitch sometimes." I dropped back onto the bed, my hand reaching for my throbbing head. 

I needed two pills now.

"You've got some damn nerve. You show up here in the middle of the night, injured, high—"

"I'm not high—"

"Save it," she spat. "You know what your fucking problem is? You can't stand being alone. Alone with your thoughts, with yourself. So you run. You run to pills, to whatever distraction you can find, anything to fill the void."

Yeah, how the hell am I supposed to want to be alone after feeling what it's like to be with you, stupid.

"You're too damn scared to face your fears," she continued, her voice laced with a bitter edge, "and when someone threatens your artificial peace, someone who might actually force you to look in the damn mirror, you panic. You sabotage it, push them away before it all gets too real, too close."

She stepped closer. "Because it's easier, isn't it? Safer to stick with the misery you know than risk having to face that void."

Every word stung, but I couldn't deny it, couldn't lie anymore.

"You're right. And I'm sorry—"

"Don't." She rose a hand at me. "Don't pretend you care, Satoru. You've made it clear how little I matter."

How little you matter? 

Oh, love, you couldn't be more wrong.

A harsh laugh escaped me. 

"You find this funny?"

"No, love," I said, pushing myself up. My leg throbbed in protest, but I ignored it. Everything narrowed down to her. I moved closer, a strange recklessness fueling me. "Quite the opposite."

Something flickered in her eyes — surprise? wariness? — but the anger remained.

"Keep going," I insisted, moving closer. "Let it out. Yell at me, tell me how pathetic I am. Make me feel something, anything other than this damn emptiness."

She hesitated. Her eyes searched mine, and for a breathless moment, I hoped that her fury, her anger, would burn away the numbness, making me feel something, anything.

Because even her anger was better than her indifference.

I couldn't stand being indifferent to her.

Might as well make her hate me.

"You want me to yell at you?" Her voice rose, the first hint of the storm I craved. "Fine! You wanna be a pathetic mess? Go ahead! Piss away your career, your life, whatever the hell you care about, I don't give a damn anymore!"

Each word hit me, but there was a desperate relief in it. Finally, she wasn't looking at me with that chilling indifference, that cold pity that twisted a knife in my gut. 

Her rage, it was fire — scorching and brutal, but alive. And I loved it.

Because it was prove she still cared, even if it was just to hate me with every fiber of her being. It was better than the void, that terrible chasm that had opened up between us after I'd pushed her away.

I closed the distance, enjoying the anger in her eyes. She flinched, but didn't back down.

"More." I grabbed her waist, lifting her with ease, and hauled her towards the bed.

"You're weak!" she spat, pushing against my chest, her voice rising with each word.

Yeah, so damn weak for you, love.

"You're selfish! So consumed by your own self-pity you can't see how you hurt everyone around you!"

Her words should have hurt. They probably would have, under different circumstances. But right now, I couldn't care less.

"Keep going," I rasped, my pulse pounding in my ears. I forced her onto the bed and hovered over her, my body trapping her between the mattress and my own. "C'mon, love, let it all out."

"You don't deserve me," she continued. "You don't deserve anyone who gives a damn, because you only know how to destroy things."

Each word was a knife. Yet, with each insult, the suffocating hollowness inside me eased a fraction. I wanted her anger, the full force of it, wanted the burn only she could inflict on me.

"More."

Her breath hitched, eyes narrowing. "You keep breaking my heart over and over, then come crawling back when it suits you, like it doesn't matter!"

"You're right." I leaned in, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. The thin fabric of her shirt did little to hide her shivers. "C'mon, love, give it to me. I know you can do better."

In one swift move, I ripped my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. I leaned down again, my breath ghosting over her lips. "Hate me." My hands went for the flimsy waistband of her shorts. "Tell me how much you despise me."

Her breaths came fast, quick gasps against my skin.  I could see it all over her face — the rage, the fear, and maybe — yeah, maybe that darker edge, the same desperation burning in me.

"I fucking hate you, Satoru. Hate that you made me care, made me fall for you, then crushed it."

"Don't stop," I said, my voice a hoarse rasp. "Say it again." Before she could react, her shorts were down, exposing her to the night air. My own pants followed hasty, desperate. "Say you hate me."

"I fucking hate that you treat me like I'm just another damn plaything to fill whatever void your messed-up mom or whatever left you with!"

Okay, now it gets personal.

"I fucking hate that you act like you can control me," she hissed, but her body betrayed her, shivered running down her skin as my hands gazed her collarbone. "Hate that you make my choices for me, decide what's good for me, like you got to have control over something when you obviously can't control yourself!"

Damn, Freud himself is on to something tonight, huh? She really doesn't know when to stop.

"You're a fucking hypocrite, you know that?" I leaned closer, my mouth close to her ear. "You hate who I am, but you crave this, don't you? Giving up control, being at my mercy. Admit it."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She lifted a hand, as if to slap me, but I was faster. I caught her wrists and pinned them above her head, pressing them hard into the mattress.

"You know it's true," I pressed, relishing the way she struggled against my hold. "It's hard always being the composed one, isn't it? The responsible one. It's draining. Maybe that's why you're drawn to me. You love the thrill as much as I do, don't you?"

She stared at me, silent, her lips a tight line. 

"Prove me wrong, sweetheart. Call me a liar, and I'll show you just how wrong you are," I leaned in closer, my voice a harsh whisper against her lips. "We're the same, you and me. We feed off each other. Even if you hate to admit it, I fill that emptiness inside you same as you do for me."

"You arrogant piece of shit!" she spat, twisting and bucking against my grip. "You think you know everything, control everything!"

"Don't I?" My grip tightened, feeling her pulse throb against my fingers. "Seems I've got you pinned pretty damn well, wouldn't you say?"

"You know it's true. You love this. Makes you feel something your books, your fancy grades never could."

"Screw you, Satoru," she hissed, venom in her voice. "We're nothing alike."

"You really are a fool, for wanting to fix something so broken it'll cut you to shreds the moment you get close and then you cry afterwards—"

Her spit hit my face. I closed my eyes for a second, then a smile twisted across my lips. 

My future wife just spit in my face — what a good anecdote on our wedding day.

"That's my girl," I rasped, shoving her legs wider. "Tell me how much you hate me. Scream it."

"I fucking hate you Satoru, I hate you—"

Her words died on her tongue as I thrust forward, filling her completely. I closed my eyes, letting my head hang heavy for a second. 

My god, the things this woman's body could do to me. I could feel her body trembling beneath me, her heart racing as she arched her back.

How treacherous a body can be, huh?

"Hate you, Satoru," she managed to say before she closed her eyes, biting down her lip as I thrust deeper still. Her thighs spread further apart, inviting me closer, urging me onward. 

She's so damn beautiful.

I grinned, my hands still holding her wrists in place over her head. "I know you do, love. But you know what?" My lips were only a breath away from hers. "I hate you, too. I hate how you make me feel, how you expose every broken piece of me, how I crave you like I crave another fix."

Hell, I might just be addicted to this woman.

I pulled out fully, before thrusting back into her. Her head fell back, pressing into the mattress as a strangled moan escaping her lips.

She felt incredible.

Pulling back slowly, I watched her body react to the absence, her eyes flickering open to meet mine. Those pupils dilated with need, mirroring my own hunger for her. 

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not our fight. Not our problems. Not our insults that had left our lips moments before. Just us — two halves coming together in a perfect whole. 

I pushed back into her, deeper, harder.

With each thrust, I felt myself sinking deeper into her, losing myself in her. Fuck, if there was anything better than this — well, I hadn't found it yet.

This woman owned me — plain and simple.

It was madness, this pull towards her. 

Insane, perhaps.

But it was also undeniably real. So real that even though dawn threatened to break soon, stealing away whatever remnants of darkness remained, I couldn't help but chase after that high only she could provide.

Even knowing full well that when morning arrived, reality would crash down upon us, forcing us back onto opposite sides of the divide.

"Look what you've done to me, love. You're making a fool of me." I whispered against her lips without touching them.

Weren't together anymore after all.

Kissing would be too much.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath me. Her nails dug into my skin where my hands gripped her wrists. With each deep thrust, I watched her face contort with pleasure and pain, her features illuminated by fleeting streaks of moonlight seeping through the curtains.

I loved that look on her face.

I wondered if I could make that look even more pathetic.

I pulled out, dragging the tip of my length across her clit before pushing back in. She squirmed underneath me, arching her back. But I denied her, keeping my unhurried pace. I wanted to draw out this sweet torture for as long as possible.

Hours passed — or perhaps mere minutes. I couldn't tell anymore. All that mattered was this woman writhing beneath me.

Groaning in frustration, she attempted to break free from my grip. "Dammit, Satoru. If you won't finish what you started, then get off me!"

I smirked. "Why so eager, love. Can't handle the wait?" I leaned in to kiss down the side of her neck. She shivered beneath me, her breath hitching as my teeth grazed her skin. 

With my free hand I reached down, running my fingers down her quivering stomach, relishing in the shivers that coursed through her body. 

She glared up at me, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Stop calling me 'love'. I don't belong to you, not anymore—" 

She gasped into my mouth when I found her clit. Slowly, deliberately, I began to circle it with my thumb, feeling her surrender to me. I plunged deeper, thrusting into her mercilessly.

Let her hate me all she wants. She can't deny the chemistry between us — a spark that refuses to fade, no matter how hard either of us tries.

She must have hated this — hated how she surrendered to me, even with all that anger. Made me wondered if I could rail her up even more.

"You think you're so much better than me?" I rasped. "So strong, so selfless, always putting others first? It's a lie, and you know it. You're just bored."

"You fucker!" Before I knew what was happening, she broke free of my grasp and had flipped us over so that she was now straddling my hips. 

Without warning, she reached forward, gripping my throat with surprising strength as she leaned down, her hair falling like a curtain around our faces. I couldn't help but smile.

"Don't project your bullshit on me," she seethed, her face inches from mine. 

Her words sent a chill down my spine, stirring up a fresh wave of desire within me. Damn, this woman was infuriating — and captivating in the worst way possible.

We glared at each other like enemies preparing for battle. 

"Aren't you a little tired? Pulling up that act all the time?" I choked out, feeling her fingers dig in further. "Deep down, you're just as bored as me, you're just too righteous to admit it."

"Shut up," she hissed, pressing harder, choking the words out of me.

This was madness. Destructive madness. But for this one desperate moment, I didn't care. It was exhilarating, addictive. Because love, our twisted, broken love, wasn't supposed to be pretty.

It was messy, chaotic, and borderline abusive. But sometimes all you need is a firm grip around the throat to remind you that you're alive.

"Harder, love," I gasped, a laugh bubbling up in my constricted throat. "Come on, make me feel your rage."

Slowly, deliberately, she began grinding her hips against mine, setting a maddening pace that left me reeling. Fuck, I think I love it even more when she hates me.

"Ahh, shit," I gasped, clutching at her thighs as she rode me mercilessly. "That's it."

Eyes squeezed shut, my head rolled back. Chills prickled my skin, possibly due to the cool breeze drifting in from the window. Or perhaps it was merely her.

She rode me with increased speed, and I could barely contain the overwhelming sensations coursing through my body. Every fiber of my being screamed for release. 

My knuckles on her thighs turned white from the force. "Oh, shit, you're going to kill me," I moaned between choked sounds that escaped my lips. 

My lips twisted into a smile again. "Admit it. You love the chaos as much as I do. The thrill, the way it makes you feel alive."

"You're wrong," she said, increasing her pace making my cock twitch inside her. "We're nothing alike."

"Keep telling yourself that," I replied, struggling to catch my breath, as she made me lose my mind. "But I know the truth—we're two sides of the same coin."

"You really believe that, don't you?"

"Why else would you be here, like this, with me?" I countered. "Face it, we're addicted to each other—the highs, the lows, the constant push and pull. It's exhilarating, isn't it?"

"You're the only addict here."

"Liar," I rasped.

Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She was close. Each contraction of her pushing me further towards a peak that I knew would soon shatter me.

But I wasn't ready yet. Not quite.

I shifted our positions, sitting upright before spinning us around so she was now beneath me on the mattress. I positioned myself behind her, forcing her down onto the mattress.

I slowly slid my hand along her spine as I pushed her further down, feeling her tremble beneath my touch, the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips. 

It was intoxicating to watch her submit to me.

"Fuck, you'll be the death of me."

Leaning down, I pressed my lips against the small of her back, feeling her shiver once more. My hand continued its descent, stopping just short of where she needed me.

"Satoru," my name fell from her lips.

Oh, how I loved it when she breathed my name like that. I couldn't resist her — could never resist her. I was at her mercy. Even now.

She arched her back, silently pleading for me to continue. I slid my hand between her legs. "God, you're so fucking wet," I murmured, slipped a finger inside her, then another. She was so tight, so warm. 

I couldn't wait to be inside her again.

She gasped, pushing back against me. "Don't stop."

Curving my fingers, I searched for that spot that I knew would drive her mad. When I found it, she cried out, her hips bucking against my hand. Her hands scrabbled at the sheets, grasping for purchase as I started to move inside her.

"Yes, fuck," she moaned, spreading her legs wider. "Right there."

Oh, love. I know you like that.

I smiled, relishing the fact that I knew her body better than herself. I knew every inch of her, every freckle, every scar, every sensitive spot that made her squirm. 

"More," she begged.

I happily obliged, adding a third finger and thrusting deeper. She was soaking wet, her juices coating my fingers as I fucked her with my hand. Her moans grew louder, more urgent. She was close, so close.

I increased the pace of my fingers, pumping them in and out of her as I used my thumb to apply pressure to her clit. 

However, as her moans reached a fever pitch, I withdrew my fingers, denying her release.

She gasped, glanced over her shoulder at me, her mouth open, but said nothing — probably out of breath. 

I brought my fingers to my mouth, savoring the taste of her. It was so uniquely her. I couldn't get enough.

Leaning in, I pressed my body against hers from behind, my hard length probed at her entrance. 

I leaned down over her, my hand snaking into her hair. I grabbed it tightly, forcing her head up to meet mine. "I love you, first-year," I murmured against her ear.

She trembled, but her defiance remained strong. "I hate you."

I sighed — always so fierce, makes me wonder what it takes to fuck that stubborn attitude out of her. 

"It's alright, I love you enough for both of us."

With that, I pushed her head down into the mattress. Her cry muffled by the sheets beneath her as I thrust into her once more, bottoming out inside her with a groan.

I began to move in and out of her. Faster now, harder until the headboard slammed against the wall. Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She clawed at the sheets beneath her, her moans muffled by the fabric.

As her cries grew louder, I quickly pushed her face further into the mattress. "Quiet, first year," I murmured as I angled myself to rub against her G-spot, making it harder for her to keep quiet. "Wouldn't want to disturb anyone in the middle of the night, would we?"

Neither of us spoke a word — not that she could but — perhaps because there was nothing left to say. Instead, we communicated solely through our actions, saying everything that needed to be said without opening our mouths.

I increased both the pace and pressure. Nearly causing her to fall forward hadn't I held her in place with one hand on her waist and one sill in her hair. Her breath hitched, her entire body tensed as she approached her breaking point.

Oh, how I loved feeling her tighten around me.

Bringing her closer to the edge was a thrill like no other. Watching her lose control, hearing her cries and moans, feeling her body tremble beneath me — it was intoxicating.

I could feel myself getting closer to the edge, my balls tightening as I approached my own release. 

Her cries grew louder, more urgent, until finally, she shattered around me, her orgasm triggering my own.

With a final thrust, I emptied myself inside her, filling her completely. Her contractions milked every last drop from me, her body still quivering around me. 

I stayed inside her, savoring the feeling. It might be the last time.

I was panting, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to catch my breath. My cock was still twitching inside her. Reluctantly, I pulled out with a low moan.

I stayed behind her for a moment longer, admiring the curve of her waist, the sheen of sweat on her skin in the sliver of moonlight. 

Don't know when or if I'll ever see that again.

Time seemed to stand still, suspended indefinitely as we tried to find our breath again.

Then she turned her head. "You're a fucking idiot," she finally said.

"Tell me something I don't know."

She shifted to face me, her expression serious.  "Promise me something."

"Anything you want, love."

"Promise me, you won't kill yourself with your pills."

I swallowed hard. That's not what'll get me, I thought, as I felt a sharp pain lancing through my right side.

I moved closer, cupping her face with my hands that trembled slightly. For an insane moment, I wanted to kiss her, but I knew I couldn't — couldn't ever again. "I promise," I rasped.

The words heavy with a lie we both knew.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: wooooaaa, another insane!gojo chapter lol. this chapter really killed me, was crying, screaming, throwing up while writing.

i'm equally scared and excited to hear what you think about todays chapter, ngl. originally i didn't plan a smut scene in this chapter, but you know, somewhere down that line gojo just happened and here we are. 

also like, i think now both their's darkest secrets are now out — in the worst way possible. also because i keep getting messages regarding how much chapters are left of the story, idk i write form chapter to chapter. we're down somewhere the 60—70 % line with the story i guess, but we'll see. still more to uncover of gojo's past and all that.

also sorry for the people asking of for more fluff and happy moments, ehhh, there will be some in the future?? also i'm still sticking to the plan of a happy ending, so don't worry!! gojo fucked up big time and the next chapters will center about him trying to fight his fears and get shit together — let's see if he can do that. curious myself.

so thank you so so much for sicking by with the story. sending kisses to all of you lovely people seeing me messages, leaving likes, comments and reblog stuff. it really makes my heart happy everything i see a notification. love you all sm!! ♡

okay my last note, just so you know, i'm going on vocation soon, so the next chapter will be a bit delayed again, sorraaaayyy!! wishing you a great day or night and an awesome weekend ahead! ♡

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 @kendall0111 @bloopsstuff @therealestpussyeater @louoi7 @whereflowerswenttodie @billiondollarworth @deluluforcarlos55 @starrynight-777 @vina21 @michelleeveline @boba-is-a-soup @cre8inghavoc @love-jelly @daimiyu @d0nk3y-k0ng @mo0nforme @smolbeanzzz @oneiricals @ynishalee @gojolvrr34 @nanasukii28 @ariiiii0938 @kelppsstuff @tojisdollx @drakenswifeyy @bakarinnie @vina21 @phoenix-eclipses @nanamis-baker @neptnszn (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

[tzuyuscloud]

My Loser Kim M.J x fem!deaf reader

A/n: This fic took awhile because I have no knowledge of Sensorineural hearing loss (SHL) whatsoever and wanted to get an understanding so I was reading articles and watching videos. If any information is incorrect please don’t hesitate to correct me respectfully. :)

Pairings: deaf!reader x non idol Kim Minji

Scenario: Kim Minji finds you in the art studio alone after being harassed by fellow students.

Warnings: Mention of blood, bullying, horrible parents, ableism (NEVER BE ABLEIST PEOPLE >:| )

Tags: Romace, college au, friends to lovers, angst??, art student y/n, loser Minji

⋆˙⟡ Star ⋆˙⟡

If my tears fall

Down in my universe

Turns into a new world

Time to find my way back home

As a famous artist said, “painting is just another way of keeping a diary.” And that’s exactly how y/n saw her creative process. As painting. She first started painting when she was 12 years old after she felt like her life was meaningless, she felt like she didn’t have anyone who understood her pain, so she spoke to a canvas. Sneaking into her grandfather’s studio and started splashing paint on the canvas, not caring when drops of color stained her freshly washed uniform.

She would come home and get interrogated by her parents as to why she was covered in paint, and she would sarcastically state the obvious, “i was painting, duh.” Thus being the beginning of her artists life when her parents placed her in an art school where she discovered more of her hidden talents with art.

Now as y/n was in her sophomore year of university, majoring in fine arts but focusing on painting specifically, she improved with every new painting she created. Her classmates envied the fact that she was a natural born genius, but the only thing that made her different than everyone else is the fact that she couldn’t hear.

Y/n’s classmates often sabotaged her works so that they wouldn’t be displayed in competitions or recognized by guest artists. They all envied her to the point where they often hurt her as well.

“Oh my, look what we have here” a group of students, led by one of the board members daughter, walked into the studio where y/n stayed painting late at night. Her body tensed up feeling the familiar vibrations of their footsteps causing her to jump when Jimin placed her hand on her shoulder.

“Whatcha painting?” Jimin said as she bent down to your level causing your arm to shakily create a false line on the brightly decorated canvas, ruining the painting. You closed your eyes hoping that they would disappear along with the world, often times when you we’re overwhelmed you would just close your eyes and turn down your hearing aid, because then the world would actually disappear.

“remember she can’t hear you.” one of Jimin’s little minions retorted causing the leader to roll her eyes.

“don’t be fooled, she has an hearing aid” Jimin then taps the device causing y/n to jump and clutch her ear, she angrily faced Jimin with a frown upon her face, looking eye to eye with the girl. “watch who your glaring at before I make you blind too!” Jimin smacked the girl on the head forcing her to look down,

“you think you’re entering the art competition? Ha, funny. You have no reason to be at this school anyways let alone enter into a competition. You will always be lower than everyone else-”

Jimin was cut off by a painful feeling that lingered on her cheek causing her and everyone around her to gasp and stare at y/n in shock. “the only low one is you.” y/n whispered, her voice shaky as she was now afraid of what was to come.

“oh~ how brave of our little y/n” Jimin smiled before grabbing your hair. While the rest of the girls knifed the painting, shredding up the canvas.

_

“ayo Minji! Make sure to grab everything from out of the locker that is labeled with red tape.”

“bruh, you literally said this already, I got it, I got it. How hard can going into the art building and grabbing your materials be?” Minji groaned on the phone, as she walked towards the entrance of the art building. It was pushing midnight and Danielle needed her art supplies that she had forgotten, but ended up catching a cold and wasn’t able to get them, so Minji being a great friend offered to grab them for the girl.

“alright alright! Thanks again Min, I owe you one!” Danielle smiled through the phone before hanging up. Minji walked through the halls, searching for studio 214A when she heard small noises coming from a fairly lit room. She peaked her head in the entrance and found a small girl sitting on the ground picking what looked like broken materials up while wiping away at her nose.

Once Minji squinted to get a closer look she saw what she was wiping wasn’t snot but blood, causing her eyes to widen and immediately run to the girl. “Hey bro are you alright, your nose-“ As the girl looked up at Minji from the shadow she casted. Minji saw that her lip was bruised and she had a scar on her head as well. “who did this to you?” she frowned. Y/n didn’t respond but just stared up the taller woman with tired eyes.

“can I help you with your wounds at least?” Minji asked again hoping for at least a nod. Y/n then pointed to the expensive hearing device that laid crushed into small pieces on the ground next to her. Minji felt her heart sink into her stomach as her eyes paneled to the broken device to y/n’s bleeding ear in which the device used to sit in.

Minji then squeaked out a small, “y-you can’t hear me?- minji don’t be stupid” before grabbing her phone and typing out sentences.

Who did this to you? Im gonna help you with your wounds if that is okay with you?

She faced the screen towards y/n and gently places it in her hands. Y/n looked up at Minji with soft eyes before typing something back.

Jimin and her friends.

Okay

Y/n handed the phone back to Minji and Minji never ran to grab a first aid kit so fast in her life once she got y/n’s consent to help her. She gently dabbed all the scars with cotton balls and places bandaids on them all, before picking up the pieces to the very expensive device and placed them in a plastic baggie for y/n.

Once she helped her clean up everything, including herself she offered to walk y/n home.

Do you stay alone?

Minji shook her head no at the question before softly speaking, “I live with my friend.” she said quietly leaving Minji shocked. She didn’t know the girl could speak, but she also knew very little about the girl and her her disability in the first place.

“What’s your name?” Minji asked and earning silence as she stupidly didn’t type out the question.

What’s your name?

Mine is Kim Minji

Y/n stared up at Minji and smiled, “Park f/n” she spoke. Every time y/n spoke, Minji got excited inside as the girl’s soft voice healed something inside of her. The whole way to y/n’s apartment was filled with Minji asking questions and eventually exchanging numbers where Minji texted y/n all through the night.

_

Minji still couldn't get the phrase "Jimin and her friends" out of her head. Doing everything she could to try and figure out who exactly Jimin was and why she would ever physically harm anyone.

Minji "Dani I have a question." The bright faced Aussie looked up at her best friend with a smile,

"What's up?"

"Mmm you're in the art department a lot," Minji paused "do you know someone who goes by the name Jimin?" just then Danielle's eyes widened and she let out a small gasp.

"ugh!! everyone knows her! Look I'm not one to talk behind people's backs but she is a bully" Dani huffed out with an animated frown. Danielle was never one to talk badly about people, in fact she spoke to everyone no matter how they came off or appeared, and if she saw someone who was sad, all she had to do was flash her signature smile and suddenly all clouds were replaced with sunshine and warmth. "Why do you ask though, Min?"

"Well when I went to get your supplies last night...there was this girl-erm Park f/n, and she was hurt badly. She said Jimin and her friends did it to her and that they always hurt her." Just then Minji was looking down and picking at her fingers, something she has a habit of doing when she's anxious.

Danielle jumped up from her spot on the sofa, "Wait...y/n?!" she slapped her hand over her mouth causing Minji's eyes to widen.

"w-what? is there something wrong?"

Danielle sat down after calming herself down to make her poor friend less worried, "that poor girl, she's in majority of my classes but I haven't noticed she was being assaulted." tears welled in the younger girl's eyes. "I try talking to her but she just rolls her eyes and looks away. I don't think she likes me"

Minji comforted her best friend as she pouted about the thought of someone potentially not liking her. "Dani"

"hmm?" the brunette faced her friend.

"y/n is deaf. Have you not known?" Minji asked genuinely. Danielle dropped the fruit that was in her hand and slowly turned to Minji.

She didn't know wether to keep her mouth open or close it but she looked like a fish out of water, "Im such a horrible person, everyday I would ask her questions and try to make conversation but- wow."

Minji cut the girl off, "well from what I have learned she can hear when she has her hearing aid, but recently it was broken because of those bitches. And when I catch them I will-" Danielle cut the girl off with a worried stare.

"Hey I know you are worried about y/n but violence does not solve more violence! What we need to do is report this to the school immediately to get justice for y/n." Danielle stood up proudly, while Minji scoffed from her place on the couch.

"Beating Jimin's ass seems like enough justice for me" she mumbled, earning a glare from the peaceful girl.

The older girl stood up, patting her best friend on the back, "well good luck with your peace treaties. Im gonna go take y/n out to eat"

"oh a date?~" Danielle teased causing Minji to blush, "no! she doesn't like me like that"

"But YOU never denied not liking her so, a one sided date, eh?" Danielle urged on, Minji grabbed the nearest pillow from the couch and smacked her friend on the head before running out the shared apartment.

"Ill be back!" she shouted on her way out.

_

Entering the small cafe, Minji noticed how you doodled in a sketchbook as you waiting for her to arrive.

“Hi y/n!” she greeted waving, silence. Her brows furrowed in confusion going to wave again but then as she walked to take a seat, she noticed that the small pink device was no longer in your ear.

Once she sat down you looked up feeling her presence, flashing her a small smile. You took out a small, cutely decorated notebook that was filled with stickers, and a pen before scribbling a few words down.

Hi!! :) I apologize, I can’t get a new hearing aid until next month. My parents are too busy to ship it to me

What kind of parents are too busy to tend to their own child?! Minji thought to herself. She couldn’t help but wonder why they would brush her off like that.

It’s okay, we can talk like this. Look.

Minji then tapped the table in y/n’s line of sight to get her attention. Her hands then started moving, forming words that were a bit choppy but still clearly showed that she put effort and time into learning.

‘Im learning sign language so you can speak comfortably’ her heart was racing afraid she messed up a few signs, because y/n just stared. She then smiled and looked down shyly trying to contain her excitement as no one has ever tried learning sign language to try and communicate with her, not even her own parents.

Y/n’s fingers swiftly flowed in different directions, speaking freely and comfortably. Although Minji couldn’t catch half of what she was saying, she still gazed at her with bright eyes.

“Thank you” Y/n whispered as she signed so that Minji could learn along with her, “for being nice to me” she said softly, looking up at Minji’s big brown eyes that never left hers.

Minji had ordered their food and drinks, sharing everything she had as y/n told her that she rarely tries new stuff because she is never introduced to anything.

I used to travel and do fun things before…the accident

Y/n gently pushed the book towards Minji as she cutely stuffed her face with fruit, earning a slight giggle from the opposite girl.

“Accident?” Minji mumbled to herself. Y/n let out a “hmm?” as she saw Minji’s lips move.

Accident?

Minji wrote but then quickly scribbled more,

You don’t have to tell me, it sounds personal

Y/n laughed at the panic writing, waving her hand and brushing it off.

It’s okay, I will tell you another time

You nodded before changing the subject, engaging in conversation that had you both laughing for hours without realizing how much time has passed. On your way back to her apartment, you heard her let out a small gasp and point to the small arcade that brightly lit up the evening skies. She took your hand, pulling you towards the machines as she eyes all of the plushies.

Letting out of the words “I want” slightly below a whisper. Minji couldn’t help but cave into her cute squeals of excitement as she pointed to all of the plushies she eyed. Pulling her wallet out she placed two bills into the machine bringing it to life.

Y/n excitedly jumped to hold the levers and when she thought she had the correct spot, she pushed the button. The claw grabbed the stuffed bunny, bringing it to the drop but dropping the bunny right next to it instead, before powering down.

The girl turned to Minji, puffing her bottom lip out in a pout before turning to walk away. Before she could take another step, Minji grabbed her arm, bringing her to a stop. The older girl then placed more money into the machine, focusing hard on the task at hand as she pushed the button. She hadn’t realized she closed her eyes, hoping that she would win the plush before she was shaken awake by y/n who was jumping around with the pink plushie in her arms.

“Bun bun! Bun bun!” she squeaked happily prancing around Minji who watched with sparkles in her eyes. She wrapped her arm around the smaller girl’s shoulder, walking her home before it got too late.

Y/n stood on her porch with a red tint to her face as she failed to look Minji in the eyes. “m’bye.” she waved, “thank you for winning bun bun” she spoke again and before she turned to enter her home, she quickly gave Minji a peck on the cheek before running inside.

Minji on the other hand, was stunned.

“She wants me bro!” The older girl said as her roommate rolled her eyes, laughing at the description story of their “hang out”

“That’s cute, she sounds adorable I wanna be her friend” Dani pouted remembering the fact that, said girl side eyes her during class. “what about me do you think she hates?”

Minji’s thick brows spoke before she did, “I wouldn’t say she hates you, she just doesn’t let her guard down easily” which confused her since she spoke to you easily. “I don’t know why she clings to me so quickly though”

Danielle laughed, “are you serious Min, you’re literally like a golden retriever. Your aura is so welcoming.” Minji blushed at the compliments,

“you think im a golden retriever girl” she wiggled her brows causing the both of them to burst into laughter. “but on a serious note, I think I like y/n”

The Australian girl looked at her roommate with a ‘duh bitch’ look, “I thought we all knew this?” she said with sass.

“I- goodnight”

-

Given y/n’s situation, she still had no hearing aid, causing her hell during her lectures as she had to rely on notes from generous classmates. She came from a well off family, growing her her parents would take her and her older brother on vacations and many outings, spoiling them, especially y/n since she was their princess. Treating her to whatever she wanted. Despite being handed whatever as a kid, her mother was still very strict and controlling at times.

You were always sent to every educational lesson after school as well as extracurriculars, and once she found out you had a talent in art, she ran with it and enrolled you in art programs. The life you had before the accident was chaotic, you didn’t enjoy it but you tolerated it because it was better than most. Though after the accident, you were pushed away. You were no longer the “princess” but more so the “burden.” You vividly remember your mother screaming at you to listen to what she was saying, even though you couldn’t clearly distinguish what she was saying.

She was in denial about her daughter being deaf to the point where she refused to tell anyone. Instead she blocked you out from the world, Park y/n had disappeared from the wealthy social circle and sent to study at a well off university. Anything to keep you out of your mother’s sight.

A knock sounded at your apartment door causing your roommate to jump up from her spot at the kitchen table to grab it. You looked up at the shuffles to find your older brother entering the place, smiling as she made conversation with your roommate.

He then looked at you with a smile before signing, “how are you, princess?” as you sat on the couch curled in a ball under blankets. You flashed him a thumbs up. You watched as he pulled a pink bag from behind his back, eyes following his every move as he handed you the bag. You looked up at him with a confused face considering there were no major holidays or birthdays near.

You opened the box and saw a brand new hearing aid. You looked up at your brother before tearing up. “thank you” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around him. Part of you didn’t wanna let go as it felt like that was the only family you had that truly cared about you.

“Of course you know…since I caused it” he whispered as he rubbed his neck. You knew he would forever feel everlasting guilt for what he did.

Summer of 2016

“Wait for me!” scrawny little y/n ran as fast as she could behind her brother and his friends. Her pink sundress flying with each stride, and her bare feet connecting with the grass.

She huddled around the older boys as they all piled fireworks on top of each other in the field. Different kind of pyro tied together and linked by a singular string that would be lit.

“This is gonna be awesome! I can’t wait to see the explosion” Y/n’s brother exclaimed, tackling one of his friends. Y/n was oblivious to what was actually happening, and got easily distracted by the beautiful flowers that coincidentally surrounded the pile of pyro.

She wasn’t aware of the stack being lit until she heard constant shouting from her brother and the rest of the guys. “Y/N MOVE!!” As she turned around she was thrown back as the fireworks went off in front of her. She felt someone pick her up saving her from the rest of the loud explosion.

All she could do was cry as she covered both of her ears. “It hurts!” the little girl sobbed. From the commotion her parents ran outside to see what had happened and was met with their daughter being cradled in her brother’s arms crying. She was covered in burn marks from head to toe.

“What happened?! What did you boys do?!!” Mrs. Park shouted, grabbing her daughter. Leaving no time to explain she rushed off to the hospital with her husband not too far behind with the boys.

Hours spent in the waiting room, the doctor had eventually came bearing the news of their daughter. “Miss y/n is doing fine. She is very brave for her age” he complimented.

Mrs. Park smiled faintly, “thank you doctor, is she healthy?” The man’s smile faded at the question before exhaling.

“Your daughter has hearing loss in both ears, she can respond to some sound but only depending how close she is to the noise. We recommend seeing a specialist for ears so that she can get a proper hearing aid that works best for her.” Mrs. Park threw herself into her husband’s chest with loud sobs.

“What am I gonna do with her now! I can’t let the world know she’s deaf!” she sobbed causing a gasp from the doctor. Y/n’s brother on the other hand felt guilty for what happened never thinking he could look his baby sister in the eyes again.

-

Moving forward, y/n got left at home and forgotten by her mother. She no longer received attention, not even basic conversations from her mother. She was put in more activities and after school classes to stay out of sight of her mother. The world had forgotten that the Park family had a daughter as she was hidden.

Present day

Y/n and her brother, Kai sat on the couch catching up about each other as Kai took over their father’s company.

“How’s mom and dad? Have they asked about me?” y/n whimpered, hating the fact that her own parents lost love for her, their one and only daughter.

Kai pulled his little sister in for a hug, “Father worries about you, he always talks about how he misses his little princess” you smiled at the thought of your father missing you, the thought warming your heart. “but mother. She’s still a cold hearted b-“

“woah okay okay, I see” You lightly laughed.

Kai then changed the subject, “What about you though sis, how has school been?”

All of a sudden you blurted out, “I think I like someone.” covering your mouth quickly. Kai started squealing like a teenage girl,

“omg omg what’s their name!?” He clapped his hands causing you to burst into laughter.

“Stop being silly, haha. Her name is Kim Minji” you said with a deep red tint forming on your cheeks. “We went to a cafe together and she helped me when I was…stuck on…an art project haha” you laughed nervously. You never wanted Kai to get worried about you if you told him about Jimin and her clan.

“she wants you” He joked, but little did you both know she actually did.

-

Minji: Would you like to go on a date Saturday evening?

Minji was pacing back and forth her apartment as she panicked at the message she impulsively sent to y/n. “You will be fine girlfriend, I doubt she would say no” Danielle gave the older girl a pat on the shoulder to reassure her.

“But what if she thinks Im some old creep who just happened to win her a plushie at the arcade and learn sign language?!” Minji pulled at her hair causing Danielle to roll her eyes.

“Puh-lease. She would never-“ the sound of the phone going off caught their attention. Minji quickly picked the phone up, reading the message aloud.

“I would love to, smiley face. SHE WANTS ME!” The Korean girl shouted before jumping around the apartment.

Dani laughed as she walked back into her room, “Nerd”

-

Minji laid in the sand next to y/n taking in the evening sky after a long day of playing in the water and writing in the sand. “I’ve never had this much fun since I was a kid” Y/n whispered turning to face Minji. “Thank you for accepting me Min” The words left Minji speechless at the thought of people not accepting her because of her disability.

Minji sat up, causing y/n to follow as she was concerned by the girl’s sudden movements. “You’re more than what people think you are y/n, and those who don’t accept you don’t deserve you because you are everything anyone could ask for and I-“ Pausing abruptly her heart started racing as she almost slipped up and confessed her feelings to the younger girl.

“You what?” Y/n smiled cheekily, playfully hitting Minji’s arm. Her face turning redder than the sunset as she started fumbling like the loser she was.

‘I like you, y/n’

Y/n’s eyes widened in shock, hoping she wasn’t hallucinating what she just saw you sign to her. “Like…like as a friend or-“

Before she could finish her sentence Minji grabbed her face, finally feeling the softness of y/n’s lips, the softness she had always imagined being on hers since the day she saw you in the art studio. You returned the kiss pulling her closer to you afraid it was all a lucid dream that would fade away as soon as you let go.

“Like you like you, as in I want you to be my girlfriend” Minji panted as she broke the kiss that had you feeling all kinds of butterflies.

“Such a loser” y/n giggled and threw herself in Minji’s arms. “But you’re my loser”

“SHE SAID YES!!” Minji stood up cheering for everyone to hear, “Park y/n is my girlfriend!!!” You couldn’t help but laugh at the action and when Minji turned to face you again, you couldn’t help but notice the sparkle in her eyes.

Pulling her into a hug while burying your face in her shirt you mumbled, “Kim Minji is my loser”

[chococolte]

Hello! May I request SAGAU childe reaction to his god letting him rest his head in their lap and saying they love him? I hope that’s alright thank you I hope you have a lovely day!

word count. 669

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, sagau + cult au, gn reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. something possessed me and i wrote this in like 30 mins?? also this is barely proofread so im sorry for any mistakes TT

Childe is acutely aware of every muscle in his body.

Your hand rests on his head, gently caressing his hair. Every glide of your fingers against his skin sends a rush of euphoria down his spine, mixed with the ever growing urge to hide his face in your thighs and escape into your warmth.

He feels every minute twitch of his fingers, the rumble of his heart, the dull ache in the back of his head that presses deep against his skull the longer every word of worship stays unsaid on his tongue.

Childe has never felt so blessed before. If every death on his hands was for this short moment, he would do it how many times it takes for another second. There is no place he'd rather be than by your side— whether that is at your feet, as your shadow, or merely another in a crowd of worshipers.

He doesn't know what exactly he did to deserve this, but he would throw himself back into the abyss if it meant figuring out what it was. Anything for a repeat of this moment. Anything for it last a little longer.

Your breath is barely audible above him, but he bites his tongue anyway— stops his breath short in his throat so he can etch the sound into his mind; burn it into his memory so he can never forget. Anything to make the you in his dreams more accurate. Anything to make it so the next time he sleeps, it feels a little bit more like reality.

Sacrilegious to tarnish your image in his mind, maybe; but your fingers still coil around the curls of his hair, still hum under your breath a tune unfamiliar to him. His copper-lashes still flutter close, his mind still veiled with fog and dazed thoughts of where this moment could go next— and you're still there, letting him enjoy this short reprieve before he is torn from you again, back to another battlefield drenched in blood, to the darkness and bitter silence found in the halls of the Tsaritsa's palace.

He once lived without you, utterly lost and alone. He should be used to the ache left in the wake of your presence. But then you found him, and he can't bear the thought to be apart from you again.

Childe feels your hand still, and his eyes snap open before he can register anything else.

Did he do something wrong? Did he do something to upset you? Fears muddle his mind and dread clings to him like a cloak, burrowing into his flesh and wrapping around his lungs.

"I love you, Ajax."

Life rushes into him all at once. Like the warm morning rising onto a world covered in black and ash, an unbearable heat suffused his cheeks and spread from his chest to every inch of his body. It wrestles with gray of his world and brings it color and vibrancies.

He jumps, rising so he can catch the expression on your face. You're smiling, eyes crinkled at the corners, with so much fondness dancing within that it hurts. Childe doesn't feel deserving of it— he's only barely begun to prove himself to you.

Maybe you read the disbelief on his face, because you repeat yourself. You say it softly. Gently. You say it with so much affection and love he can barely comprehend it. His soul sings, and his heart drums, and his eyes turn glossy before he can stop them.

Only you can make him feel this way. Only you are deserving of his worship. Only you, in all of your grace— only you, in all of your perfection. Anybody else is secondary. They are inherently meaningless when compared to you. And in this moment, you shine ever brighter— you make him realize just how lucky he is to have you as a god.

"I..." Childe chokes on his words, finding it harder to keep his emotions at bay. "I love you too, Your Grace. Only you."

[elryuse]

Yandere mafia rose x male reader who likes to make her jealous

Mafia's Lover

Yandere Mafia Rosé X Male Reader

The world was a blur of red and pain. I remember the cold metal biting into my flesh, the acrid tang of blood filling my senses. A lifetime ago, it seemed. I was a ghost in my own body, a hollow shell drifting through a crimson haze. Then, he appeared. Y/n. An oasis in the desert, a beacon in the storm. His hands, gentle as a summer rain, tended to my wounds. His eyes, filled with a compassion I’d never known, held me together.

In that vulnerability, I found a strength I never knew existed. I clung to him, to the warmth of his touch, the steady rhythm of his breath. In those stolen moments, love bloomed in my heart, a defiant flower pushing through the concrete of my world. But my world was a harsh mistress. A world of shadows, where loyalty was a chain, and betrayal a death sentence. I couldn’t drag him into that darkness. I had to let him go, even as it tore me apart.

Months turned into an endless winter. The world was a monochrome canvas of gray, devoid of color, devoid of hope. But then, a flicker of life, a spark of defiance ignited within me. I needed to see him, to feel the warmth of his presence once more.

And there he was, my heart aching at the sight. Surrounded by a flock of giggling girls, he was a sun radiating warmth. A sun that should have been mine alone. Rage, a venomous serpent, coiled in my gut. How dare they? How dare they infiltrate my world, my Y/n?

I watched him through the binoculars, a silent voyeur to a scene that was both beautiful and agonizing. His laughter, once a melody reserved for me, was now shared with others. A bitter taste rose in my mouth, a cocktail of jealousy and longing.

I had to have him back. Not just for the love I felt, but for the control, the power it gave me. I was a queen in a kingdom of shadows, and he was my crown jewel.

The next day, I stood at his door, my heart a drumbeat of anticipation and fear. The moment he opened the door, my world shifted. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a raw pain that mirrored my own. It was intoxicating.

“I missed you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. But my hands, they spoke a different language. They wrapped around his, a possessive claim. His wince was music to my ears.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, my voice low, a purr of menace.

His eyes, wide with fear, were exactly what I wanted. He was trapped, a bird caught in my web.

“Those girls don’t deserve you,” I hissed, my voice laced with venom. “All you need is me. And only me.”

With a decisive pull, I dragged him inside, closing the door on the world. We were alone, two souls caught in a tempestuous dance of love, obsession, and control.

His fear was a sweet nectar, fueling my desire. He was mine now, completely and utterly. I would mold him, shape him into the perfect reflection of my desires. The world outside could wait. This was our moment, our world. A world of two.

I ran my fingers through his hair, the softness a stark contrast to the storm raging within me. His eyes held a mixture of fear and something else, something I couldn’t quite decipher. It intrigued me.

"Remember when I was weak, and you were my strength?" I asked, my voice soft, almost seductive. His eyes flickered, a silent acknowledgement. "I gave you everything, Y/n. My trust, my love, even a part of myself."

I paused, letting the words sink in. "And what did I get in return? Betrayal."

His lips parted to speak, but I silenced him with a gesture.

"Don't," I warned. "Your words are meaningless now."

I leaned in close, my breath warm against his skin. "Now, it's my turn to shape our destiny."

I could feel his fear, a delicious tremor running through him. It was intoxicating. I wanted to break him, to rebuild him in my image. And then, I would possess him completely. Body and soul.

I smiled, a predator's grin. The game had just begun.

A week had passed since I dragged him into this gilded cage I called home. In those seven days, I had transformed from the predator to the caretaker. I cooked, I cleaned, I tended to his every need. I had become the woman I had always pretended to be, the one I thought he wanted. And to my surprise, he seemed to be thawing.

The fear in his eyes had gradually been replaced by a hesitant trust. His body, once tense and rigid, now relaxed under my touch. It was a slow, insidious process, but I was patient. He was mine to keep, and I would ensure it.

I watched him sleep, his face serene in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. There was a vulnerability in his slumber that made my heart ache with a strange tenderness. This was the man who had saved me, the man who had ignited a fire within my soul. And now, he was mine.

Morning brought with it a new routine. I would wake him with soft kisses, the scent of coffee and toast filling the air. His sleepy smile was a reward I craved. We would spend the mornings together, lazy and intimate. I would read to him, my voice a soothing melody that seemed to calm his spirit.

In the afternoons, I would teach him about the world beyond his sheltered existence. He was fascinated by the stories of my life, the danger, the thrill. I painted a picture of a world that was both terrifying and exhilarating, and he listened with rapt attention.

As the days turned into a week, I began to see a change in him. The fear was fading, replaced by a quiet strength. He was learning to rely on me, to trust me. And in that trust, I found a love I never knew existed.

One evening, as we sat by the fireplace, I took his hand in mine. "You are safe here, Y/n," I whispered, my voice soft as velvet. "No one can hurt you."

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion I couldn't fathom. "I know," he replied, his voice barely a whisper.

I leaned in, our lips brushing together. It was a tentative kiss, filled with unspoken promises. When we pulled apart, I could feel the shift, a seismic change in the dynamics between us. He was no longer the terrified victim. He was becoming my equal.

My world, once a monochromatic canvas of black and white, was now painted with a thousand hues. There was still the darkness, the undercurrent of my past, but it was no longer the dominant force. Love, a foreign concept, was now a vibrant part of my life.

Time passed, and I managed to extricate myself from the underworld. The life of a mafia boss was not one I wanted anymore. I wanted a quiet life, a simple life, with Y/n by my side.

We opened a small cafe, a sanctuary away from the chaos of the world. It was a world away from the life I had once known. But in this new reality, I found a happiness I never thought possible.

Y/n thrived in his new role. He was a natural with people, his smile a beacon of warmth. And as always, he attracted attention. Young girls would flock to the cafe, their eyes sparkling with admiration. I watched him interact with them, the same warmth and kindness he had shown me.

A pang of jealousy would sometimes strike, a ghost of my past self. But then he would catch my eye, and with a playful wink, he would send the jealousy packing. I would smile, a mixture of love and amusement.

One evening, as the sun began its descent, casting long shadows over the cafe, I found myself watching him. He was laughing with a group of young customers, his eyes sparkling with mirth. I felt a surge of protectiveness, a remnant of my past life.

I walked over to him, my arms wrapping around his waist from behind. He turned, his smile widening. "Jealous, my love?" he teased.

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Maybe a little," I admitted.

He chuckled, pulling me closer. "You're mine, remember?" he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear.

I turned in his arms, our lips meeting in a passionate kiss. As we pulled apart, I looked into his eyes, seeing the love and adoration reflected there. I was home.

Days turned into weeks, months, and years. Our love deepened, a rich tapestry woven with threads of passion, trust, and companionship. The cafe became more than just a place of business; it was our sanctuary, a testament to our love story.

And as I watched the world change around us, one thing remained constant: my love for Y/n. He was my everything, my beginning and my end. And in the quiet moments, as we sat together in the warmth of our cafe, I knew I had found my happily ever after.

The end.

[httpsghostie]

Hi!!! I'm obsessed with your writing, especially all the Ghost stuff. YUM!! I was wondering if you'd be able to write an angsty and emotional blurb with DBF Ghost...Maybe they get into a fight or something

Favorite Regret

pt 1 / pt 2 / pt 3

took me a while to get to this but hope you enjoy it <3

any similarities with sleep token is a mere coincidence I am not responsible for this

Summary: Simon doesn't know how to handle love, so he pushes you away.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: dbf!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!reader, angst/hurt, alcohol abuse, age gap (reader's in 20s and simon in his late 30s) // masterlist

Your story with Simon began a few months back when he returned from his duty and desperately – more like unconsciously, needed affection.

It happened, you were there, emotionally available for you dad’s best friend, it was wrong, he knew it, but Christ you were too good to be true.

Always there for him, dropping off work and studies only to take care of a fever he’d have, pampering him with lots of kisses, making him a warm cup of tea. He was never a physical touch kinda guy, but with you, the way you felt lying peacefully on his chest, he couldn’t help it, he became clingy, almost annoyingly clingy.

And he filled you with empty promises, painting a future for the two of you. He held you in his arms, he let you invade his personal space – which he then called our personal space. You were in fields of elation, but every color seemed to fade as he shut the doors to his heart again.

It’s almost like he determined you were no longer useful, you had given everything to him, you trusted him wholeheartedly, just for him to take it all from you and throw it in the bin.

You hated him, the image of the one you loved and cared for turning black and white as the entirety of your relationship turned meaningless. It’s like he gave you a whole beautiful horizon that stretched ahead in front of you, and then made it disappear from your view, leaving you standing at the edge of uncertainty.

He took what he wanted from you and left.

“You’re not getting it, this is never going to work, your dad doesn’t even know about us, he’ll kill me if he finds out. God, what have I done?” He had his back turned to you as he sat on the edge of the messy bed from your previous actions. You covered your bare chest with the blanket, your face getting red and hot.

“No, you don’t get it, Simon. I’m a fucking adult, and you are a childish, self centered idiot, can’t you see it? You just cared for me when you needed someone to be by your side, and now that you don’t need me anymore, you’re gonna throw what we had away because what? You said so?” You screamed back at him, eyes filled with hot tears that dared to roll down your cheeks.

“Call me what you want, I don’t care. This was a mistake.”

“A mistake? Is that what you’re gonna call me?” Your voice was shaky, and you tried your best to keep your cool. You dressed yourself quickly, still expecting an answer from him, but he just sat there, watching all the events unfold. “What is wrong with you?”

“You don’t wanna be with me, I can’t even stand myself, you deserve someone better.”

“Someone better?” You stood in front of him in denial, crossing your arms, but he never looked at you. “Did I just hear you right?” 

“I’ve made myself clear, kid. You should go.” He finally got up, and your eyes accompanied his emerging size. But he still never looked at you, he just walked up to the front door to his apartment and opened it. You slammed it closed, pointing a finger to his face.

“You listen to me-”

“No, you listen to me.” He grabbed the sides of your arms, holding you firmly. His teary eyes staring down into your soul. “Do you think this isn’t hard for me, either? You don’t understand, we can’t be together, I can’t disappoint your father like that, I can’t be with you. I should’ve never texted you in the first place.”

And the way he spoke made you inhale a familiar smell escaping from his lips. Whiskey.

“Simon, are you drunk?” You cried. 

“Go.” He finally let go of your arms, leaving your skin almost bruised.

You brushed your arms and headed to his kitchen, trying to find the bottle that was shoved in the trash can. You picked the empty whiskey bottle, noticing a discarded pack of cigarettes — empty, too, and smashed.

"You drank half a bottle?" You raised the object to your head, he looked down, rubbing his eyes. "Unbelievable."

"You're still young, you have a prosperous future ahead of you and I won't be the one to hold you back." He said quietly, fighting back the tears and the agonizing pain in his chest.

"God, you talk like you have a terminal disease." You scolded, leaving the bottle on the kitchen aisle and grabbing your stuff from the couch. "Maybe you do, Simon, maybe your terminal disease is not being able to accept love. Maybe your terminal disease is you becoming the one who you swore you'd never become."

It came out strained, and you didn't realize you were comparing him to his father until his hand gripped your wrist tightly. He looked deep into your eyes, and you could see how pissed he was.

"I'm not him. Get out." You pulled away and he opened the door one more time. 

You didn't comply, your eyes desperately tried to find the loving Simon you knew, the one who held you close in the night, the one who couldn't stand your cheesy movies but still watched them with you. But he wasn't there, the version you saw in front of you had killed the previous one. The Simon you knew was dead.

"Simon, I didn't-"

"Get out." 

Now he screamed, almost spitting out, his hot tears flooding his eyes and rolling down his red cheeks. 

He stood outside the apartment watching you clumsily press the buttons on the elevator, giving him one last glance before finally walking away.

A mistake. That's how he said it. This relationship was a mistake, and you were his favorite regret.

taglist: @butterbunana @snoisisabitch @nuhteyam @iamabsolutelynothere @blissful--moon @jellyluvr @khomugi @xaintxun @kichimiz @frog-spot @sasukeswife3 @aly0be

[hothothotch]

hi! can you write a hotch angsty / fluff piece based off the episode of s3 ep 20 where they go to NY and have to work with Kate Joyner and Hotch treats reader like how he did to Morgan and pushes reader aside bc even after reader being there for him after his divorce with Hayley and thinking there was something more but then ends in fluff? :)

hey hey! first i want to say that this ask has saved my life. second, i got carried away again. but i hope you like it, anon s2

(god knows how much i want a part two for this one)

requests are open!

tw: angst, fluff, 5.3k words.

You should have seen it coming.

You’ve been a part of BAU’s team since the departure of Ellie, a quick replacement approved by Agent Hotchner — or Hotch, as the team called him — that took place for the first time after The Fisher King’s case, when Ellie was shot; when she decided working at the BAU was too much to handle, Hotch approved your official transference only a few weeks before Strauss’ approved Prentiss’.

In all honesty, you’d been surprised Hotch didn’t kick you out after that, but grateful nonetheless — you absolutely loved that job.

You had been the first to notice when Hotch’s marriage started to crumble, your own habit of staying late nights at the office giving you a first-row view of the nights he’d stay late and go home only on the early hours of the morning, just to come back fresh and new as if nothing had happened. There wasn’t much you could do to help, even if you wanted to; the fact that Hotch trusted you on the job didn’t necessarily mean that he trusted you enough to let you in on his personal issues, and you didn’t feel like you really wanted to. But, as purple bags started to form under his eyes, a clear evidence that he hadn’t been sleeping, you couldn’t help but start showing small, almost meaningless acts of service that you hoped would make him feel better.

Everything was pretty secretive.

You started to get in the office earlier, so you could leave a cup of fresh coffee on his desk (black with no sugar, as you know he liked), and whenever you went out for dinner, you’d come back bearing something that was small enough so he wouldn’t want to pay for what you brought.

You started daring more only a few weeks into your small endeavor. Instead of only leaving your secret gifts, you started to write small notes in Garcia’s colorful sticky notes (because you had none on your desk, so he wouldn’t know it was you) with encouraging comments, mostly about his job — and, when you were feeling specially bold, about his appearance in general.

You thought nothing of it, and had no idea if he even read them, but the fact that you were doing something to at least try and make things better was enough to warm your heart. Much more when his stern façade would suddenly turn into a lighter one as the day went by, even when you were out on cases and he found a cup of steaming coffee waiting for him, a sticky note attached to it with a unique message handwritten by you.

It wasn’t until the divorce that you felt the urge to reveal your identity.

Hotch had been served the divorce papers in front of the whole team, only a few minutes before they went out for drinks — it goes unsaid that he immediately stepped out of the group, deciding to go home. The team still went out for drinks, but the talks weren’t as fun as they were supposed to be, and the topic in hand was only one: Hotch’s sudden divorce.

“Haley left home a few weeks ago” Derek confessed, playing with his full glass of beer. A few women had come to hit on him, but it seemed like that small and closed group had decided that if one of them was miserable, they all would be miserable that night — and Morgan had been the first to agree to that silent contract, refusing every opportunity he had to get laid that night, “She took Jack and her things and… left”.

“How could she do it?” Penelope had asked, her voice wrapped in a wrath no one had ever seen the blonde bubble of happiness be.

“Hotch is very dedicated to his job, Pen” Emily had replied, her voice as condescending as sad, a clear indicative that while she wished things had been different, that maybe there was a second chance, something they could do to help, she still could understand Haley’s side in this bargain, “We understand that because we do the same, but Haley… she wasn’t one of us”.

And it was true. While any of you were ready to make sacrifices, to jump off cliffs in order to do the best for your job, Haley was just a wife that had to stay closed off at home with her kid, praying that, at the end of the day (or the week) her husband would make it back home.

Now Hotch knew how it felt.

“There’s nothing we can do to help” David had said that night, taking his own glass of whiskey and taking a sip of the sour drink, “Just be there for him”.

David was right. And maybe his words that night had been what prompted you to climb the three-steps of the catwalk’s stair one week later, one hand playing nervously with your necklace as you used the other to knock on Aaron’s door right after Spencer had left to go home, only you and your boss still on the sixth floor.

“Come in”.

Aaron’s voice was imposing, as serious as it had always been; it was curious, you noticed very quickly, how you’ve never seen Hotch falter before — even when he was served the papers, or when he officially announced for the team that he was, indeed, divorced. He had been calm and collected, talking about the topics as if he was making a comment about a case, or about the weather, and the only indication of his unsaid pain was the way his fingers played nervously with the now empty space where you’d been used to see his wedding band.

Just as he was doing when you opened the door, your eyes falling immediately on that spot, as if searching for an indicative that they had decided to try again. The hope painful on your heart.

“I finished the reports from the last case” you said after a few minutes, moving slowly to leave the folders on top of his desk, “And I’ve also filled the late paperwork, I’m sorry it took me a while”.

Hotch looked up at you, his brown eyes scanning your face almost curiously, and you frowned nervously at the prospect of having something wrong with your face, “What is it?”.

“Nothing” Aaron replied quickly, dropping his eyes back to his hands, “I’m sorry”.

You smiled softly at Aaron, moving slowly to take the seat across from him, careful enough to assure him that if he didn’t want you to sit with him, then you’d quickly move out and pretend nothing had happened. When he didn’t, you allowed yourself to place both your hands on top of his desk, your palms up in an inviting manner — you knew Hotch wouldn’t hold your hand, even with the clear offer, but you’d keep offering until he felt like accepting.

“We’re a team, Hotch” you whispered, almost inaudibly, hoping, one more time, not to be overstepping or making him uncomfortable in any capacity, “I know we’re not best buddies…” you teased lightly, adding a ‘yet’ on your mind, “But you still can share things with me. I’m here to help, you know? If you want to talk, ever, I’ll be here, okay?”.

Much for your surprise and happiness, Aaron had wanted to talk, eventually.

The first time was after a child-related case, from where he left with the need to see Jack, but unable to do so because Haley had taken him to his grandparents’ house. At first, when he called you up to his office, you’d thought you’d be reprimanded for a mistake you couldn’t even remember you committed, but you had barely stepped inside the office when Aaron started to speak, his eyes focused on the mess of papers on his desk.

“I want to talk” he said, his voice more painful than you thought it would be, “If you’re still up to it”.

You were. Absolutely.

And just as talking to him, falling in love with Aaron Hotchner was the easiest thing you’ve ever done in your life.

You didn’t notice how it happened, or when you finally realized you were head over hills in love with him, but what you did know was the unspeakable feeling of your heart thundering on your chest whenever he shot a smile on your way, or when he accidentally brushed his hand on your arm when walking past you, or during your nightly conversations, when he’d repeat the words you first told him all those months ago, when you offered your help.

“We’re a team”.

But you should’ve seen it coming.

You should’ve seen it coming when Aaron announced whoever was responsible for that case had called him personally, and not respected the natural order of things in which JJ receives the case and reunites with Aaron to know if it deserves their immediate attention.

You should’ve seen it coming when Derek commented about Kate Joyner being as ass, and Aaron immediately got defensive — and to some extent you believed you had noticed, even if you decided to ignore it, since your body had responded to his defensiveness.

But you didn’t. Mostly because up to that moment, everything was okay.

“You’ll keep throwing theories at me until I tell you to stop?” Hotch asked, and even if his voice was serious and perfectly professional, you could see a hint of a smile on the way his brows weren’t as furrowed as usual, a shy dimple appearing on the corner of his lips.

This, you thought as you observed his clear features, moving from side to side on the chair you’ve been sitting on, your sole duty being waiting for Garcia’s call, or a lead of any form, this is what I love the most about him. His almost smile.

The thought alone both intimidated you and made butterflies dance on your stomach. You loved him.

“I will” you agreed with a resolute nod, your face as serious as possible considering how bad you wanted to laugh, “That’s what I do when we don’t have leads, I try every possible outcome and make you smile every once in a while. Because we’re a team”.

Aaron shook his head, his smile a bit more apparent than before, “A team, indeed”.

“I hope we make a good one”.

You cringed visibly at Kate Joyner’s British accent, not failing to notice how Aaron immediately moved to look at her, a smile creeping up on his lips immediately as he met her eyes — and you felt your heart break even more at the realization that it was the same smile he always gave you.

“They liaised at Scotland Yard”, Emily had teased when you arrived, JJ gasping at the mischievous tone on her friend’s voice. You wondered if any of them noticed how your face fell by the minute, your eyes unable to match any of theirs, heart thumping against your chest because you had noticed how Aaron had looked at Kate.

He wanted her.

In a way he clearly had never — and probably would never — want you.

“Hotchner” you looked up immediately at his serious tone, furrowing your brows as you paid close attention at his words. You saw, with the corner of your eyes, when Derek and Rossi moved closer to the three of you, their faces as serious as Hotch’s, “Does it look like he could be one of our guys?”.

“What’s going on?” Derek asked, his eyes following Hotch’s every move.

“We’ve got eyes on one of them” Aaron replied quickly, and for a second you hoped they’d be somewhere you could get them, that maybe this hell would be over in the next hour, maybe you were remotely close… “He’s on the subway platform at 59th and Lex”.

Your heart stopped beating at that moment, your breath immediately caught on your throat as you turned to face Kate, “We could be there” you muttered, your voice nothing more than an accusing whisper, “If we’d followed Derek’s plan, we could be there”.

“No, we should be there!” Derek retorted, his voice pulling out the anger you’ve managed to keep away from your words, and if your message hadn’t been clearly delivered to Kate, Derek’s had been — it was her fault.

“He’s got a gun” Garcia announced on the other side of the line, her voice wavering slightly at the new information.

“What do we do?” you asked, eyes moving past Kate to meet Hotch’s, “What are we supposed to do?”.

Aaron didn’t have time to reply before Garcia’s voice came through once more, “He shot her”.

God.

“Where the hell are the police?”, Kate’s voice was nervous when she next spoke, walking past you as if you weren’t there, her eyes not daring to meet yours, even if you knew that she didn’t care about the rage you were displaying. She cared about nothing other than Aaron’s impression on her, “This is Kate Joyner with the FBI. We have a murder suspect, subway platform. 59th and Lex”.

“He’s getting away!” Garcia announced, her voice clearly anguished.

Your mind started to work, all the training you ever had in your life — both for the BAU and other Units — coming back to you on that second, drawing you to move closer to the phone, you’re voice commanding, “Garcia, can you get eyes on him above ground?”.

“He’s heading west on 59th Street”.

“If he makes it to the park, we’ve lost him” Kate pointed, clearly worried.

The point was, Kate’s worry meant nothing to you anymore. Not when she was responsible for that; not when her pride got over her job and caused you to lose the only lead you could’ve had.

“And whose fault is this, Joyner?” you asked, your voice as venomous as you could make it sound, both your hands holding tightly at the wooden surface of the desk you’ve been sitting at, “Because from where I see it, is yours”.

The silence between your small group was almost palpable, and you could hear how someone took a harsh breath, as if your words had been like a slap to their face. You didn’t turn to see who had had that reaction, though — you knew the team had a very tunneled vision of you, that the fact you rarely snapped at people made them think you weren’t as fierce as Prentiss, even though they knew you were way more able to stand your ground than Spencer, usually without being overly rude at the source of your dismay.

That wasn’t the case, not that day.

You heard Aaron calling your name, and if it were any other day, maybe you’d have drawn your eyes off Kate to look at him, but you knew if you did this now, you’d backtrack — and God knew you didn’t want to.

“We could’ve had this guy!” you spat, pointing at the phone, “We just had to follow along with Morgan’s plan, which was a good plan, but Ms. I’m-better-than-anyone couldn’t handle hearing that someone was better than her!”.

“That’s not what happened—”.

“Oh, isn’t it?” You cut her off immediately, licking your lips for a second as your eyes kept glued on hers. Not blinking, not faltering. For the first time since you joined the FBI, you allowed the anger to consume you, because it was personal for you.

The way she looked at Hotch was personal for you.

The way they kept their bodies close was personal for you.

The way he had immediately stopped reciprocating you and your feelings whenever she was close, was personal for you.

The way she had the man you loved under her spell was personal for you.

“Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved onto someone isolated” Kate retorted, her voice way calmer than yours.

“Maybe, but it was worthy a fucking shot!” you screamed, slapping your hands against the table, the sound calling the attention of the other Agents around, “Morgan said to put us at express stops. You wouldn’t need any new cop or to take the cops that are working from the streets, you just needed to assign us for this, and you decided not to, just because Morgan said so!”.

“It’s not your place to have this discussion”.

You were ready to spat back, maybe even to move closer to Kate and tell her that if she failed to do her job, then it was time someone else do it. But the voice that called you out wasn’t Kate’s.

You faltered, your voice suddenly getting caught on your throat as you turned to face Aaron, his eyes void of emotion as he looked at with you a grave expression, only one message written on his face: shut up, or you’ll see the consequences.

“My…” you stuttered, “My place?”.

“You need to back off” Aaron moved on, “We’re here to give the profile, that’s what we’ll do”.

“We have seven bodies, Aaron!” you said, but your voice had lost the strength it had when you were discussing with Kate, your anger turning into something way more painful. Painful for you, “Seven bodies. A woman was just killed on a subway platform because of her incompetence and you’re telling me to back off?”.

You hated how your voice broke on the last phrase, clear evidence that you were on the verge of tears. And you hated that he was a good enough profiler to see it, but he chose to ignore, because he was favoring her over you.

“You said it right, we have seven bodies” Aaron agreed, “Which is exactly why we need to stay focused”.

Derek snorted, drawing your attention back to him, “Pretty rich coming from the man who can’t stay focused on anything but her”.

As if it couldn’t hurt you more.

Aaron didn’t flinch, his eyes meeting Derek’s as he finished the almost inexistant space that separated the two of them, his voice low and passive — the tone he always used when talking with a suspect, “Take a walk. Now. You both”.

All you needed was for his eyes to meet yours for you to know you were done. With this case; with Kate Joyner; with Aaron.

“I’m out” you announced, messily grabbing your things and throwing them on your pockets, trying your best not to unravel then and there, where Kate could see how much she had affected you — how much their actions had affected you, “Out of this precinct. Out of this case”.

You walked past Aaron without sparing a glance at him, making a beeline towards the elevator. And for a second you thought about ignoring the way he called you, aware that you wouldn’t be able to look at him without the tears falling down your face, without you pouring your heart out to the man you ultimately loved, but that couldn’t reciprocate your feelings.

But you stopped, anyway. You stopped because a part of you hoped you’d see the man you’ve grown fond of in the past months; because you expected him to apologize, to say that you were right, or just say something… because if he didn’t, you might as well give up on him.

Ask me to stay, you pleaded, just ask me to stay.

“You can’t walk away from this case”.

You snorted at his cold words, and even with your back turned to him, you knew his face was still cold as stone, the Unit Chief, not your friend, “I can. And I will” you finally found it in yourself to turn and face him, the first tears falling down your face, “I’ll tell Strauss I couldn’t handle it, that it hit too close to home. Don’t worry, I’ll take the plane back to D.C tonight, I don’t want the jet and won’t make the Bureau pay for a bedroom for me. It won’t ruin your budget”.

“Why are you acting like that?” he asked, and you allowed yourself to bask on the way his own voice faltered, the way his closed demeanor changed at the sight of your tears, but it only lasted one second before you looked over his shoulders, finding Kate looking straight at you, clearly curious.

Suddenly there was no way you’d walk out without saying everything you needed to say.

“You really don’t know?” you questioned, “Okay, so I’ll tell you, Aaron” you made a pause, fidgeting with your necklace once again, trying to find the courage you needed to let it all out — everything and nothing at the same time, “I’m so in love with you, Aaron. I’ve been from the moment you started opening up to me. And to see you dismissing my opinion, acting like I’m nothing more than just an AIT who has no idea what she’s doing here, it hurts…” your voice was nothing but a mumbled hiss, the tears now staining your shirt, and you were unable to stop them, even when you violently wiped them away with the palm of your hand, “It hurts because I thought maybe… maybe you were feeling the same. Maybe you were opening up to me because you wanted me to be a part of your life, more than a friend, but a real partner… I thought we were a team, but I see I was wrong”.

You allowed yourself to look desperate, broken, out of place for one more second as you watched the way his demeanor changed as he processed every word you’ve said. You noticed with a heavy heart when it stopped, when he finally took in the meaning behind your words, and then…

Then you saw nothing.

And that only made your heart break even more.

“As I said, I was wrong” you repeated, pressing the elevator button violently, “I’m sorry, Agent Hotchner. I hope the case ends well. I’ll hand you my resignation once you’re back home”.

And without a word more, you left.

…

Prentiss called to let you know the case had ended only two days after you left — not that you wanted to know, but you had told Hotch you’d hand your resignation once he was back, so you were grateful she called. She didn’t ask if you were okay, because you clearly weren’t, and you were grateful for that, too (even if Derek and Penelope did call to know if you were feeling okay).

Aaron didn’t call.

He didn’t reach out.

Didn’t send a message or an email.

He was dead silent.

You had learnt from Derek that Kate Joyner had been killed on an explosion meant to hit her and Hotch, and that Morgan had driven him back to Quantico once Aaron was cleared from the hospital. He didn’t need to tell you, but you knew he had talked to Aaron (or either talked while Aaron listened) about what you said before leaving, about your feelings and how you were ready to resign because of the way he treated you; you also knew from his voice that he wanted you to ask what had been Hotch’s answer to their talk, but you didn’t want to know. Your heart was already too damaged to accept another blow.

It had been around the third day since the end of the case when someone knocked on your door. You had asked the team not to come over, not wanting them to see you on the state you were — hair disheveled, eyes puffy and red from crying —, and much less have to answer to questions you weren’t ready to answer; but you had been receiving a visit from your neighbor, Mr. Clark, who had caught you crying alone once and since then had been visiting you on the same hour everyday to make sure you were doing okay.

He was also helping you look for new jobs, even if he was trying to convince you to do something less dangerous than working for the FBI. It wasn’t working.

“Hello, Mr.—” you cut yourself off immediately when your eyes met the newcomer, your lips slightly parted as you took in his image, “Agent Hotchner?”.

You noticed how he flinched at your words, moving slightly back as if you had shot him straight on the heart, and not just called him by his title. Still, Aaron tried to keep himself perfectly composed (as always), one hand hiding something on his back as he fidgets with his fingers with the other.

If you hadn’t spent the past weeks crying over him, you’d have found it adorable.

“What are you doing here?” you asked sharply, your eyes scanning him one more time before you stopped to find his eyes, almost losing yourself on their brown — almost green, depending on the light — immensity.

“I wanted to talk to you” Aaron replied, rolling his eyes at the notice of how obvious his words were, “I wanted to apologize”.

You tilted your head to the side, your body clearly blocking his way inside your apartment — something you’ve never done before, “Okay. Done. You can go now”.

Your words were harsher than they’ve always been, void and certain, mostly because you knew you still loved him, and that if he asked to go inside, you’d allow. You’d buy anything he said in order to feed the fantasy of you two being more than friends, of the possibility of you being what you wanted you to be.

“Can we talk?” Aaron pleaded, taking a step towards you, “Please”.

“Why? So you can ignore everything I said at the precinct and cry over Kate’s death?” you spat out, and maybe you shouldn’t have talked about someone’s death with the coldness you’ve done, but you were honestly tired of Aaron and his bullshit, “I offered myself to help you, Aaron, because I knew you were suffering over your divorce. And if for some miracle Haley and you decided to go back together and try again, I’d swallow my feelings and let my heart break as I watch you and her trying to rebuild what you had, because I know how much you suffered over losing her. How much you miss being Jack’s father everyday…” you raised one finger, pointing directly at Aaron’s heart — the heart you still loved more than everything, “But I’m not stupid. I won’t let you step on my feeling to cry over another woman after I’ve told you how I feel, after I’ve pathetically confessed my love to you. I’m worthy more than that, Aaron! I deserve more than someone who only needs me when they’re emotionally vulnerable. I deserve to be loved, Aaron!”.

Aaron was silent for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as he observed the first tears rolling down. You thought he wouldn’t say anything, that maybe he’d only move away as you told him to, but he didn’t.

He took a step towards you, using his free hand to clear your tears, “I know” Aaron whispered, licking his lips, “And I should’ve thought about it, about your feelings, before putting mine on top of them. And I apologize, even if I know it’s not enough”.

No, it wasn’t. Because merely apologizing wouldn’t erase the memory of him observing as you poured your heart out and dismissing it on behalf of another woman. It wouldn’t erase the comments, and how he belittled you. It wouldn’t erase the pain you’ve felt on the plane back, or how pathetic Erin Strauss made you feel for abandoning the field over personal problems.

“I didn’t notice you were in love with me because I was trying to brush past the fact that I had fallen in love with you, of how inappropriate it would look like for Strauss, of how it could jeopardize your career…” Aaron cleared his throat, looking at the ground, “And how bad I felt over the fact that you were trying to help me with my marital problems, and I was too busy noticing how beautiful your smile is. I didn’t believe it was right for me to fall in love with you, because I didn’t deserve someone as pure as you”.

You remained silent; your arms crossed in front of your body. You knew there was something else he wanted to say, so you allowed him to.

“I imagine you heard someone talking about how… how much Kate looked like Haley”.

You snorted bitterly, and that seemed to attract his attention back to you, “Everyone. Even I thought that when I saw her”.

Aaron nodded slowly, this time his eyes didn’t move from yours, “When I saw her, all I could see was Haley. And I tried to convince myself that the fact I was shaken by that meant that I was still in love with Haley, and that I didn’t have to worry about my feelings for you, that I wouldn’t mess up our friendship because there weren’t feelings between us… but whenever I looked your way, or talked to you, I’d feel my heartbeat faster. And when I looked at Kate, I felt… empty. As if I was staring at an old ghost” he confessed, and you could see on his demeanor how confessing that pained him — either because he was confessing in a way that he wasn’t in love with Haley anymore, or because he felt bad speaking ill of the dead, you weren’t sure, “So I tried to force myself into find that old spark, the way I felt for Haley, something that would prove to me that I wasn’t in love with you, but I failed. And I failed you in the meantime”.

You took a sharp breath, hating yourself for the way you started to play with your necklace, “Where does it put us, Aaron?” you asked painfully, “Because I won’t go through that again”.

Aaron took his hand off his back, showing you the small Tifanny box he had been hiding, your breath getting immediately caught on your throat as you reached for the object hesitantly, “I’m not proposing to you” he clarified at the look on your face, “I couldn’t, not after just getting divorced… and I also can’t be in a relationship with you, now. I want to, but I need to settle things with Jack before I bring someone knew into my life, and I need to prove to you that I mean it when I say I love you”.

“Aaron…” you whispered, opening up the lid to reveal a golden lock pendant, one that you knew all too well — one you had nonchalantly commented with Aaron you wanted, but thought nothing of it, believing he hadn’t paid any mind at your words. He had, “I can’t… I can’t accept it, I—”.

“I’m not trying to buy your forgiveness, I’m not stupid to think you’d accept a gift in exchange of it” he cut you off, “But I want you to keep it as a promise that I’ll try to make it up to you every day, until you can forgive me. And that I’ll wait for you ‘til my last breath, if needed”.

You looked up at Aaron, nodding slowly.

You knew by the look on his face that you’d be the one leading them from that moment on, that if you wanted to just get the necklace and tell him to go, he’d go without missing a heartbeat. But you didn’t want it. Aaron was willing to try, to win your forgiveness and to respect your feelings in a way he hadn’t before.

“We’re a team” you muttered under your breath, opening up a smile.

So maybe you owed it to yourself to try, too.

Aaron gave you a similar smile, nodding, “We’re a team. The best team”.

And as you took a step to the side, inviting Aaron to enter your apartment, you knew you had already forgiven him.

Thank you for the request ✨

[ggyutarist]

some things you learned about love. ᯓᡣ𐭩

A/N: writers block kind of being a bitch rn. get friendzoned lol😂. its so easy and difficult to write angst ykwim?? count how many times i said ‘love’ here.

💫: Bsf!Beomgyu x GN Reader

Content: Just pure Unrequited Love with best friend Beomgyu.

WC: 817

It hurts. It hurts being the bestest of friends with Beomgyu. As well as being in love with him. It’s ironic, isn’t it? The person who makes your whole day better with just their mere presence, also makes it worse.

The constant reminders that he would never be yours lurk at the back of your head, but you paid no mind. If being his friend is the only way to keep him here, then so be it. You don’t care anymore.

You don’t care if all those hugs dragged on too long because you wished to hold him in your arms, as your lover. If you held his hand unusually tight so he wouldn’t run away and be yours forever. You continuously stare at his eyes that would not look back that same way you do, whatsoever. 

For him, he hugs you for so long because he has a lot of affection to display. He holds your hand, not for the reason you desperately want him to convey. He looks at you endearingly, unbeknownst to him, you return it in a different way.

His oblivion truly knows no bounds. Unfortunately for you, this would cause you to be stuck in a constant loop.

The loop of you falling in love with him, realizing it can’t be, and then he does a stupidly endearing thing, triggering the cycle all over again.

He taught you so much about this trivial thing called love. Yet, he can’t be your love. Your whole life, feels like falling apart just because of him. Why? Just because he happened to take the chance of being your first love? Or is it because of all the little things he showed you that love could be?

Giving you meaningless things he found that you would keep for years onwards.

Sharing his earphones to you so you both could escape this mundane world and listen to his playlist instead.

Giving you the fuller, well made drink to enjoy (after sipping on it himself obviously).

Long, thought over birthday letters from him for you to melt over as you read it in your room.

Remembering each of your favorite colors so he knows which item to get with which color.

Idiotic, really. Everyone would know these actions don’t automatically mean romantic. So why did your heart decide to take it otherwise? It grows painfully heavier by the minute as you think that, it won’t be you. Somewhere, in the future, someone else will steal his heart. His precious, precious heart that you want only for yourself. Cruel, is it not? He, unknowingly, shamelessly, steals your entire heart but ends up not giving his to you in return. 

To him, who reminds you of days where the sun is close to setting and it’s so pretty…but suddenly, there’s rain. The rain isn’t heavy, no. Just weightless drops accompanied by the sun’s warmth. That’s why it’s so Beomgyu to you.

His presence consists of the sun warming your monotonous days that limps along the passing seconds, minutes and hours. But it also has its rain. The pattering of rain reminds you that he’s always here. He’ll always let you know he’s here. Despite all that…what is real, you threw to the very back of your mind. Hoping to be forgotten. The continuous sound of the rain tells you that it simply cannot be. A story of you and him? It would be lost to a book filled with fantasy, tied to a tragic ending. You wouldn’t want that, would you? You wouldn’t want to see his smile fade away.

It prevents you from reaching out to the full warmth of the sun; you’ll get drenched on by the rain. The sound of the raindrops is comforting, albeit regretful. His ceaseless presence that supposedly provides you comfort, still keeps reminding you of your painful reality. You should’ve never fallen for him from the very start. You shouldn’t have but you did anyways.

How could you not? After all the time you spent with him, it would be impossible not to fall. You fall yet again and again with no regards to how hopeless your situation is. Yeah, it still hurts but you can numb it out…a bit.

You hope that one day, you will stop falling in love with him. Somewhere, there will be someone who like you like you like him. You will bring along all the love that you had stored in your heart and give it to someone else.

Then we move on and forget.

But how?

There are some things you learn about love. This one, however, is the only thing you cannot bring yourself to understand. How would you move on and forget about someone like him? You really don’t know but…

Until then, you’ll stay by his side, even if he stays in yours for not the same reason as you.

A/N: no you guys dont see that laufey and w2e reference shhhh. also no. neither did i expect the rhymes lol. the sun and raining scene was inspired by what actually happened while i was writing this.

also guys pls dont look like bots. how am i supposed to know ur a breathing human😞 just put a cute little pfp or smth and thats good enough. im getting worried my stuffs are just being liked by bots lol.

[trentsgirl]

— 🖤 ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

⟡ summary: you want to be more than just friends, but jude doesn’t.

⟡ content: fwb!jude x reader, pure angst, no happy ending, reader getting a bit emotional, around one thousand words, one shot.

⟡ notes: not my favorite work, but had to get it out of my drafts some day. also, requests are open:)

⟡ streaming: say don’t go by taylor swift.

⟡ masterlist.

the cold winter wind tickled your nose as you and jude strolled amidst the rustling leaves, your breaths creating misty clouds against the fading daylight.

in the midst of casual chatter about trivial matters like the latest bakery in town, jude’s impressive gym gains, and his peculiar dream from the previous night, an unspoken tension lingered. it was a quiet question mark concealed within cozy quiet moments and secret glances.

as you reached the bridge, gazing down at the glistening ice below, you halted, your focus fixed on the serene scene. with a hushed voice, you finally uttered the question that had been weighing on your mind, “what are we?”

jude paused, his forehead creasing in confusion. “what do you mean?” he responded, genuinely unaware.

you let out a sigh, turning to face him directly. “please don’t say we’re only friends,” you pleaded, revealing a vulnerable side that caught jude off guard.

a pang of emotions surged within him, a tangled web he struggled to unravel. “well,” he stumbled, searching for the right words, “we’re more than just friends.”

“alright,” you echoed, a flicker of optimism dancing in your eyes.

jude, still taken aback, muttered, “yeah.”

a profound silence enveloped you both, pregnant with unexpressed hopes. detecting his hesitation, you tilted your head, replacing hope with confusion. “is that all?” you inquired.

jude’s eyebrows rose as he met your questioning gaze. “what do you expect me to say?” he snapped, exasperation mingling with a touch of desperation.

a pang of disappointment tugged at your heart. “aren’t you also confused?” you challenged, a hint of letdown coloring your voice.

jude shook his head, his eyes dropping to the ground. “confused about us? i mean, i haven’t given it much thought, to be honest.”

his words landed on you like a sudden downpour, dousing the glimmer of hope you had held onto.

was it all in your imagination?

had you constructed something out of stolen glances and intimate moments that existed solely within your own mind?

the wind whispered through the bare branches, echoing the emptiness in your heart.

inhaling deeply, you managed a smile and said, “oh.. yeah, it’s okay,” while slipping your hands into your pockets. “let’s just keep going.”

as time passed, the silence became heavy with unspoken words. you paused once more and asked, “so, it’s just me?”

jude, lost in his own thoughts, blinked at you, still puzzled. “what’s bothering you so much?” he inquired, genuinely unable to grasp the turmoil brewing within you.

frustration urged within you. “honestly, jude, what do you want?” you trembled as you demanded.

he shrugged, his face blank. “i want what we have now,” he replied, oblivious to the chasm between his contentment and your longing.

“what do we even have?” you exclaimed, desperation creeping into your voice. "meaningless sex and telling everyone we’re just friends. is that what you truly want?”

taken aback by your sudden intensity, jude struggled to respond. “we have something that brings us both joy, don’t we?” he stammered.

“are you genuinely happy?” you questioned.

he hesitated, caught off guard by your directness. “i’d say so, i suppose,” he replied cautiously. “and you?”

you averted your gaze, the wind tousling your hair. “i don’t know,” you admitted softly, the weight of the words resonating. “does it even matter? i just want clarity.”

“i don’t know what you want me to clarify,” he muttered.

he was well aware of the direction this conversation was heading, and he felt paralyzed, unable to take the necessary steps towards the impending confrontation.

“will things remain the same?” your voice quivered, each word reflecting the hidden fears bubbling inside. “do you really not see us going any further?”

jude clenched his jaw, your radiant smile haunting his thoughts. he despised himself for allowing things to escalate to this point, for leading you on when you were never intended to be anything more than a temporary diversion.

“i... i can’t answer that, y/n,” he stammered, his voice weighed down by remorse.

“for whose sake? mine or yours?” you questioned.

“for both of us,” he responded, but the words lacked sincerity, even to his own ears.

your frustration, held back for so long, began to engulf you as you demanded. “listen, i need an answer. now.”

you couldn’t continue in this way any longer. it was time to determine if your time with jude was worthwhile, because honestly, it felt like a waste. the two of you seemed to follow a repetitive pattern: he would appear, have sex with you, and then vanish for weeks before the cycle repeated itself.

jude, caught in the midst of your emotional storm, could only stumble, “what will happen if i can’t?”

you swallowed back a sob, the words you despised forming on your lips like bitter ashes. “this thing... is over.” you uttered painfully.

the declaration hung heavily in the air, more of a surrender than a triumph. you observed, your heart racing, as jude’s expression turned vacant. you waited, desperately clinging to the last shreds of your composure.

and then, he simply uttered, “okay.”

his response, devoid of any emotion, felt like a blow to your stomach. you, momentarily stunned, could only repeat his word, “okay? what does that mean?”

jude shifted his weigh from foot to foot, recognizing the pain he’d cause you. “okay,” he corrected silently, “as in it’s over.”

the weight of his statement crashed down on you like a forceful wave. disbelief surged through you, threatening to overwhelm you with its icy grip.

tears, restrained for far too long, welled up in your eyes, distorting the city lights into shimmering trails of anguish.

“are you fucking serious?“ you choked out quiveringly. “are you truly so afraid to confront our situation that you’re willing to throw it all away?“

jude glanced down, unable to bear the weight of your accusation. “i’m sorry you feel that way,” he muttered, his words carried away by the wind. “but you were knew from the beginning.”

“knew what? that we were doomed to fail?” you retorted fiercely.

jude locked eyes with you, his expression filled with deep remorse. “you were aware that i didn't want to treat this seriously,” he explained, his voice lacking the usual charm that eased your worries. “you knew the circumstances.”

desperately clinging to shreds of hope, you pleaded, “those things can change. no one makes the rules but us.”

however, jude remained firm in his decision. his shoulders slumped, his words laden with a burden you couldn’t comprehend. “for me, things don’t change like that,” he confessed. “i’m sorry.”

the apology rang hollow, lost in the vast divide that had grown between the two of you. it became clear to you, unmistakably clear. this wasn't about circumstances or fate; it was about him. “just be honest,” you said bitterly. “you used me.”

jude flinched, a flicker of guilt flashing across his face. “don’t kid yourself, y/n,” he retorted defensively. “i made it clear that i wasn’t interested in a serious relationship. it’s not my fault you misunderstood.”

each word felt like a dagger, piercing your heart. with a sickening realization, you understood that you have built a fragile castle of illusions, believing that stolen kisses and intimacy were promises of forever.

with one final, tearful glance at the man who shattered your heart, you turned away, unable to stand there and keep together any longer.

in the midst of that heavy silence and suffocating atmosphere, a profound realization washed over you—sex doesn’t make someone love you.

[sweetlummie]

Doll

Tysm to @aurorawritestoescape for this amazing moodboard!! Ilysm my sweetest heart!!! 💗💗

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

A/n: ANOTHER PEDRO CHARACTER‼️‼️🗣️🗣️ Something soft n sweet and not smutty just to dip my toe into this pond! I hope you all enjoy!! ALSO sapphires come in different colors not just blue! :) Not proofread so any and all mistake are mine!! As always feel free to leave constructive criticism. Likes, comments, and reposts are appreciated 🫶🫶🫶💗

Warnings: Whiskey being a jerk to women, mentions of deceased loved one

W/c: 1.7k+

* ・‥…━━━━━━━ *˖◛⁺♡ ━━━━━━━…‥・

Jack Daniels, better known as Agent Whiskey, wasn't one for relationships. After his high school sweetheart died, his need or want for love died along with her. Of course like any man with needs he would often fuck around. It was meaningless one night stands, just to satiate his lust. He was sure to let whoever he was fucking know that there were no strings attached and he didn’t want a relationship. He broke countless hearts and even some women from the office quit once he rejected them, he simply didn’t care.

That’s what happened to the last receptionist. He swooped in and began to woo her with his southern charm just to get her in bed and he had accomplished his feat. They slept around for a few months before she caught feelings. One night after they had sex, she confessed and he laughed. “Sorry sweetheart, don’t want ya like that. You’re only good to me in my bed when you’re moanin’. Don’t need ya for anythin’ else. Now get.” He told her harshly, essentially laughing in her face. After that she quit, no two week notice or anything. Simply never came back.

Today the new receptionist was supposed to begin. He didn’t care who you were, he wasn’t interested in getting to know you. He would simply play nice, woo you, and fuck you. The same as he’d done with other women. As he sat in his office reviewing mission files Champ knocked on his door. “Come in.” Whiskey looked up from the files. “Ah, what can I do ya for Champ?” He spoke as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “New receptionist started today. Don’t be a jerk and make this one quit, alright son?” Champ said with a smirk even though he was serious. Whiskey laughed, “No promises. Anyway reckon I outta introduce myself to the little lady.” He said as he stood up buttoning his blazer, he made his way to the elevator to go to the first floor where you were at.

Once he reached the floor and the elevators opened, he looked up and the air was taken from his lungs. His eyes widened, his jaw nearly dropped, he swore he heard a choir of angels singing as he laid eyes upon you. He clutched his chest, this feeling was foreign. He swore he could never feel what he felt ever again.. What was happening? He had never felt this way for any other women except his wi- no. He can’t feel this way, he won’t feel this way. He knows you can only fall in love once and he already was in love, this isn’t possible.. Right? He was probably having a stroke or a heart attack, yeah, that sounds about right.

You felt the sensation of someone staring at you so you looked up from your computer and saw Agent Whiskey standing in front of the elevator, looking at you while clutching his chest. You had a look of concern etched on your face. You quickly got up and made your way over to him. “Agent Whiskey? Are you okay?” You spoke softly as you walked toward him.

He looked you up and down and internally groaned. You were so curvy and your rolls were so cute to him. You were far different from the women he used to bring home. And your voice- it was like honey, like silk, like the sweetest sugar. There was no denying it he was so fucked.

He cleared his throat and straightened out, flashing a smile. “I’m alright sugar, jus’ had a lil’ heartburn. Thank ya for checkin’ up. You’re new around here ain’t ya?” When he confirmed he was alright you smiled and nodded. “Yes sir! I’m the new receptionist!” You sure were a bubbly thing, your smile contagious. Whiskey kept his smile, but this smile was genuine and he genuinely was interested in the things you said, he clung onto the words you spoke like you were giving him oxygen to breathe. “I see, got a name lil’ lady?” He placed his hands on his hips as he looked down at you. You told him your name and chuckled. “Very pretty name, I must say you’re a pretty lil’ thing.” He flirted, which shocked you. Agent Whiskey was an attractive man and you had high confidence but men rarely openly complimented or flirted with you. “Oh, thank you! You’re not too bad yourself.” You chuckled, Whiskey was about to make a risky move but he didn’t care, he had come to terms with it. He wanted you, actually wanted you. Not for a fling, not to get in your pants, he truly wanted you. “Are uh, are ya doin’ anythin’ later tonight doll?” he asked, you shook your head, “No, why?” Now was his chance. “There’s this lil’ burger joint ‘round here that’s like a vintage diner.. Maybe ya wanted to, I dunno come out with me there for dinner?” He asked as he looked into your eyes, they were so beautiful to him. Like two sapphires shining in the moonlight. You smiled and bit your bottom lip. “Sure! I’d like that Agent..” He exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and he had the biggest grin on his face. “Alright then.. I’ll come down here after hours an’ I’ll pick ya up to take ya to the diner.”

Once back in his office Whiskey couldn’t believe what happened. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that would happen. As he sat down on his chair he thought about his deceased wife. She would’ve wanted him to move on… truth be told she was probably disappointed in how he had treated women and discarded them like they were nothing. It was time for him to start anew with you. He wouldn’t mess this up, he owes it to you and his wife to at least try to make this work.

Surprisingly the time goes by fast for both you and Whiskey. You both busied yourself in your work which made time fly. Before you knew it Whiskey was already descending the elevators on his way to your desk. You logged off the computer and collected your things. “Hey doll.” His thick, rich southern voice drew. You looked over at him, “Hi Whiskey!” He grinned, “Please doll, call me Jack.” He held out his arm for you to take, ever the gentleman.

As you both left the building he held the door open for you and when you got to his vintage Ford Bronco, he held the door open for you as well. Y’all hadn’t even gotten to the diner and already this date was going super well. Once you both were inside and buckled up he pulled out of the parking lot and drove through the Kentucky streets to take you to the diner.

After y’all arrived and he parked he helped you out of the vehicle and escorted you inside. The place was so cute, it looked like it was out of a movie in the 50’s with all the vibrant colors and lights that surrounded the area. You both were seated in a booth and you looked around in awe. Whiskey couldn’t help but smile at how adorable you looked as you took in your surroundings.

“Ya like it doll?” He asked as he leaned back in the booth, draping his arm on top of the booth he was sitting in. You looked at him with the biggest smile. “Uh huh! It’s so cute! This place is amazing!” He was pleased that you liked this place. “Glad ya think so.”

When the waitress came and took their orders Whiskey got a bacon cheeseburger with a coca-cola. You got a regular cheeseburger with a strawberry milkshake. While you waited on the food you both chatted for what seemed like hours. The conversation flowed so naturally between you both, it was as if you’ve known each other for years. Whiskey himself thought about how he could listen to you yap forever and he’d never get bored or annoyed with you. He was truly a man in love.

Once your food came you both ate, the food was so yummy! You shared your burger and milkshake with him and he shared his burger with you. Whiskey watched at how cute you looked with your chubby cheeks filled with food, he could get used to this sight every day. If there was one thing Whiskey learned today was that maybe you can fall in love more than once and that was okay. He knew he wanted to be the one that you woke up next to and would fall asleep next to as well, he wants to be the one who sees you at all hours of the day. Hell he even wants you to carry his children and carry his last name. His late wife could never be replaced but he didn’t see you as a replacement, he saw you as someone who was slowly healing him and helping him move on.

When you both finished your food, he paid and drove you home, the ride was filled with a nice comfortable silence. Once he pulled up to your place, he got out and opened the door for you so you could exit his vehicle. He then walked you to your door. Before you opened the door, you turned to look at him, a small shy smile on your face. “Thank you for everything Jack.. I truly enjoyed myself.. I hope we can do this again soon.” Whiskey looked down at you with a soft smile on his lips. “Glad you enjoyed yourself.. I did too.. Of course, this ain’t a one time thing baby. I wanna keep seein’ ya.” You nodded and leaned in, placing a soft, gentle kiss on his plush lips. He held you there for a while before you both pulled away. “Kay.. Night Jack, see you tomorrow..” You said as you entered your house. As you shut the door Whiskey stood there, bringing his fingers to his lips, still feeling the phantom feeling your lips left on his. He made his way back to his Bronco, maybe his wife sent you to come to his life and make him a better man.. He grinned and began to drive back to his place. He was hopeful that you two would create something beautiful and real together.

* ・‥…━━━━━━━ *˖◛⁺♡ ━━━━━━━…‥・

[imaginepirates]

Everything I Need

Jack and the reader both have feelings for each other, but have yet to act on them. When the reader sees him kissing someone else, they think he's already in a relationship, and they begin pushing him away to save their own emotions.

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @viper-official @hellspawn-brownies @groovy-lady @ghoulishbehaviour @kittenlittle24

~3100 words

~~~~~~~

The distinct slide of warm sand through your toes pulled a smile to your face. After six long months of roving, the Pearl had made port back at Tortuga, and your feet hit solid ground for the first time in half a year. As much as you loved sailing, a ship was only so large, and you could only walk the same fifty yards of deck so many times before it began to drive you batty. 

The scenery never changed on the open ocean, not truly. Oh, every day the water was a new shade, and the sky a new color, and the patterns of the waves and clouds never took the same shapes, but even when the sea changed from serene to angry, wind was still wind, and water still water. 

The little cove you’d tucked yourself into was a welcome change to all that. You relished the vibrant greens and yellows and reds of the plants, as well as the chirping of birds, and even the singing cicadas. Later, you would enjoy new company, too, and new stories alongside, but for the moment, you were content to sit only with the company of the land. 

Your seclusion, however, didn’t last long. A figure dropped down next to you, barefoot with their trousers rolled up to the knee. It hadn’t taken Jack long to find you; he knew you too well. It should have annoyed you more, that he always knew where you would be, but his company was never unwelcome. 

“Glad to be back ashore?” 

You accepted the bottle he held out to you, taking a swig before answering. “In all honesty, I am. But you’re already itching to be back out there, aren’t you?” You nudged him with a knee, and he smiled back at you, used to your teasing. 

“Can’t help myself, love. The ocean calls to me, and who am I to deny her? I have everything I need out there.”

“Except rum. You come back for that.”

“Except rum,” he agreed. 

It was easy, conversation between you. Jack had a way about him like a gentle morning tide, an ebb and flow to his words and thoughts, simple to wade through and enjoyably warm. A part of you wondered whether he shared this side of himself with everyone, and another, selfish part of you secretly hoped he didn’t. 

The truth you had come to accept was simple: after many long years of knowing him, somewhere along the line you’d fallen a little in love with your captain. That truth, of course, was a maddeningly frustrating one. There were many unspoken rules aboard a ship, the first and foremost being that no part of the crew was to have romantic, or god forbid sexual, relations with the captain. It was a grand violation of the fragile ecosystem that was ship life. Compounded with that fact was the deeper, more meaningful reason you couldn’t bring yourself to confess— Jack was a creature of freedom, and in desiring his affection, you would be denying him the full range of liberty he needed. It was a thing you simply couldn’t do. 

“What are the chances Anamaria has already gotten into a fight?” Jack was still staring out over the horizon, that characteristic gleam in his eye. 

“What are the chances she’s already won?” You knew Anamaria, and there was a high likelihood that by the time you got to whatever tavern she was in, someone would already owe her money. And have a broken jaw. 

Jack stood, helping you to your feet and corking his bottle. “I won’t let you be reclusive all night. I’ll need someone sympathetic there when Anamaria decides it’s my turn.”

“I’d pay good money to see that.”

Jack feigned offense. “How could you?”

“Because if there’s someone knocking you around, you likely deserve it.”

You walked into town like that, joking and placing meaningless bets on who had gotten up to what while you were both away. Tortuga was exactly like you remembered it, a city much like the sea, where things never really changed. Every building was still itself, if a little more tattered and worn. Not that you minded. That exact attribute was what made it perfectly suited for a group of pirates. The place had its charm, even amongst the heaps of mud and rusty door-joints. Old and battered, just like you all were.

Jack slipped past you into a crowded bar, and you promptly followed. You were overwhelmed all at once by the rowdy music, the sea of voices, the mix of smells, the different fabrics, and the heat created by so many bodies in so little space. You tried peeking around for a familiar face but had no such luck. Instead, you accepted the random fluke of drink Jack had plucked off a bar and set in your hands. 

It took careful navigation through multiple rooms before you saw anyone you knew. Sure enough, Anamaria had a stack of coins on the table in front of her, and half the room away a man was nursing a black eye and bloody nose. 

You settled down next to her, eyeing the considerable amount of money she’d won, grinning. You could swear she had some sort of gambling god sitting on her shoulder, whispering in her ear and telling her the right cards to play. Jack had wandered off somewhere else, presumably in search of something new to drink. You watched him go, letting your eyes linger on his form in the dim light, comfortable in the knowledge he couldn’t catch you, only to get an elbow in the ribs from Anamaria who sat just beside you. 

“You have got to stop staring at him like that.”

“Hey now, don’t be unfair.” You held up your hands, reluctantly tearing your eyes from Jack. “It’s not that bad. I really doubt many people have noticed.”

“Only half the crew. If excitement onboard doesn’t pick up, we’ll be betting on you two next.”

“That’s unfair. Pintel and Ragetti provide ample entertainment.”

Speaking of those two, you noticed them across the room, clearly bickering over some newfound subject. They always found ways to inspire philosophical discussion, even if the philosophy at hand was objectively ridiculous. 

Unfortunately, though, Anamaria was right. Your feelings for Jack were probably a bit obvious, despite trying to keep them to yourself. You were afraid Jack would find out, or worse — that he already knew. But you couldn’t keep yourself from noticing his smile, his laugh, any simple expressions of true joy that weren’t part of his facade. He put on an act, you knew, for most people. The perfectly suave pirate come to rob you of all earthly riches, leaving you dazed and a little enthralled. An alluring storybook character come to life. It was those real smiles, though, that you couldn’t shake from your brain, that kept you staring after him even as the moment faded and passed. 

Then there were the endearments, said out of habit if anything else, but they still had their charm. Every time he called you ‘love’, you got this warm sensation in your chest like the feeling of a good drink, spreading to your stomach and dancing across your limbs. Flirtation was in his nature, but that didn’t make it any less effective.

You sighed, taking a sip of the mystery drink Jack had handed you. It was some sort of cocktail, pleasantly fruity with a hint of grenadine*. Jack had disappeared, so your focus shifted toward watching other bar-goers. A tall blonde sawed a whipping fiddle, the tune drawing dancers to the center of the floor. The dancers, of course, were too drunk to keep their coordination, and the resulting chaos of limbs had you snickering. 

Tortuga really was the last bastion of revelry in the ever-shrinking world. You let yourself enjoy it; there was enough time for overthinking things later. For the time being, you relaxed back into your seat, cheering on Anamaria when another poor sod challenged her to cards, wheezing with laughter as Gibbs attempted a jig, blushing and breathless as the fiddler pulled you into the crowd for a dance of your own. 

By the time early morning rolled around, the bar was full of passed-out patrons, people napping wherever they could find room. You rose groggily to your feet, unaware of how long you’d been asleep, and staggered to the door. The outside air made a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat inside the bar, and the smell of brine helped clear your head. You rubbed your eyes and straightened up. 

You walked around the back of the bar in hopes of finding clean water with which to wash your face, only to see a handsome, redheaded young-man with their fingers buried in the front of Jack’s shirt. And their mouth firmly on his. 

You whipped around before either of them could notice you, stalking back the way you came. You didn’t hear the soft thud of the redhead’s body hitting the wall as Jack pushed them away, nor Jack’s voice, calm but firm, denying any further advances. Instead, you followed your feet until they hit sand, curling up in the cove you’d found the previous day. 

You should have known. You should have known Jack would already have someone, someone he was closer to than you. You couldn’t be the only person in love with him—if you’d noticed all the wonderful things about him, other people undoubtedly had, too. Jack had been a pirate for a long time, and had a whole past you knew nothing about. Of course there would be someone else. 

You curled and uncurled your fingers in the sand. The breeze off the ocean did nothing to cool the hot wave of jealousy that rolled over you. You let it sit there, broiling and festering and simmering within you, allowing yourself to stew over it. Warm tears fell over your cheeks, and you wiped them away angrily with the back of your hand.

Then it was gone. Like the recession of the morning tide, your jealousy left you in one fell swoop, and only exhaustion and emptiness remained as you hugged your knees. You had no right to feel jealous of Jack’s lover. You and Jack had never shared a romantic relationship, and you had no claim to him. All you had were the feelings you kept to yourself, and it was your own fault for never acting on them. If anything, you should be happy Jack had someone he cherished; it was so rare as a pirate to find time for partners. 

Still, a little nagging voice in the back of your head whispered its miseries in your ear. 

Back aboard the Pearl, the crew filed onto the ship, still dreary and in need of more sleep. But Jack seemed anxious to leave, and everyone was used to hangovers and quick departures. Gibbs grumbled something along the lines of ‘what trouble has Jack gotten into this time?’, but nobody argued about getting underway. 

For you, it was both a blessing and a curse. While you doubted anyone had noticed your absence that morning, you were less than thrilled with the prospect of seeing Jack every day and being reminded of the feelings you desperately needed to leave behind. Then again, leaving Tortuga meant you wouldn’t have to hide from the bars in fear of more…potent reminders. 

You spent your time avoiding Jack as much as possible. Somehow, there was always a task for you to do down below when he was on deck, or rigging to climb until he was a speck far beneath you. The crow’s nest was quickly becoming your favorite spot. You could climb there and brood for a while under the pretense of watching out for the Navy—any of them—and you didn’t have to deal with concern from the crew over uncharacteristic frowning. 

But he noticed. And you noticed he noticed because his gaze wavered whenever it landed on you, and that never used to happen before. He’d stopped speaking with you, though you felt how much he wanted to. You told yourself it was for the best, but it felt wrong at the same time.

In truth, it hurt. You missed your old conversations, the easy familiarity you used to share. Your life on the Pearl just wasn’t the same without it. It was your fault, too, which stung even more, and you hated thinking that you were putting Jack through any sort of torment of his own. Your intention was never to hurt him, but you feared that was part of the result you were getting. 

As it turned out, Jack wasn’t the only one who noticed. “Why are you avoiding him so much lately?” Anamaria sidled up to you, helping you secure belaying pins. Jack wasn’t on deck, so you were more free to talk without fear of anything getting back to him.

Leave it to her to sniff things out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You tried playing the comment off, but knew you failed miserably. 

“Did something happen between the two of you in Tortuga?” 

“No.”

She put a hand over yours, halting your work and forcing you to meet her gaze. “Something’s wrong, of that I’m sure. Care to enlighten me?” Seeing your hesitation, she reassured you. “I’m your friend. I’m not going to tell anyone, and I’m not going to judge you. Too much.” 

You knew from her smirk that she was joking, and it was the first time you’d had any humor around in weeks. It felt good to have that dynamic back, and you warmed to the idea of opening up, though you were a bit mortified to do so. 

“It’s just…” you began, “you know I have feelings for Jack. And I was finally coming to terms with them, but the morning we left, I realized there’s no place for them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I saw Jack kissing someone else.” You stopped mid-action, the rope in your hands suffering an unfinished knot.

You didn’t need to look at her to know Anamaria was shocked. You pushed on, the silence too much for you to bear at the moment. “It makes sense: I mean, he’s been a pirate for a long time, and he’s had all these adventures and travels, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he met someone on one of them. I have no right to feel jealous; we were never together.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Anamaria’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, her thumb rubbing gently over your shirt. 

You sighed. She was right, as usual. “No, it really doesn’t.”

“I’d say let’s spit in his drink, but you’ve already acknowledged it’s not that sort of situation.”

You smiled a little in spite of yourself. You continued working in silence, taking as much comfort from her company as you could. Maybe with her around, and being friends with the rest of the crew, you could dull some of your pain with their companionship. No matter how much it stung that Jack couldn’t love you, you could never be truly lonely with the rest of them by your side. 

Evening fell with a cloudless sunset, nothing to obscure the reds and yellows and pinks of the darkening sky. You stayed on deck instead of retreating somewhere else, unwilling to let your negative thoughts get the better of you. You were still alone, standing at the rail by yourself, but you weren’t lonely with the rest of the crew milling about, wisps of conversation drifting over to you. 

A presence at your side made you turn. It was Jack, staring out over the horizon, looking a little anxious. You couldn’t blame him. You knew you were the source of his discomfort, and you wanted to make up for it as best as you could, though the prospect of confessing the reasons behind your behavior scared you. He would think less of you for this, you were sure. He was too easygoing to understand why you would be so caught up on jealousy.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but you started. “I know I’ve been distant, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You sucked in a breath, bracing yourself for what had to come next. “I saw you in Tortuga the morning we left, you know, with that boy. He’s a handsome sort, and I’m glad for you, but I had no idea you were in any sort of relationship, and I had kind of been hoping…” you trailed off. This was hard, but you had to grit through it, because not talking to Jack again would be harder. “I had feelings for you. Have feelings. And watching you with him has kind of been eating me up alive.”

You risked a look over to Jack after a moment, waiting on a response. To your surprise, he looked shocked, and beneath that, you saw a tinge of sadness. 

“I’m sorry to overwhelm you,” you began, but Jack cut you off with a shake of his head. 

“I’m the sorry one, love. You shouldn’t have had to see that, and it gave you the completely wrong idea.”

Now it was your turn for shock, and not a little panic. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I didn’t want him to kiss me.” The sentence hung in the air before Jack continued. “It’s not that he isn’t good looking, or that I don’t know him—I do, but I don’t feel that way about him. I don’t…” Jack frowned, looking for the right word. “I don’t love him.”

“Oh.” It came out so small you weren’t sure you’d even said anything, but Jack finally managed to look you in the eye. 

“I don’t know if I deserve your affection. My flirting gets me in trouble; you got to see it first hand. And that got me in trouble with you. I’m not sure I’m worthy of commitment.”

“Oh Jack.” You raised a hand to cup the side of his face. “I don’t think you have a choice. I’ve already loved you for so long, I’m not sure I can stop.”

“Even though I deserve one of Anamaria’s beatings?”

“Even though that.”

Jack’s fingers laced themselves through yours, keeping your hand in place on his cheek. “I don’t need land to find my lover. You said it yourself: I could stay at sea forever. Because I have everything I need right here.”

*I’m aware grenadine wasn’t invented until 1872, but I needed to put something there, and idk my alcohol. 

[anni-writes]

i’m getting a little nervous

Atsumu Miya x reader | Angst

Warnings: self indulgent angst, Atsumu a little shitty, post timeskip

Songfic based on Nerves by DPR IAN. Highly recommend listening the song or watching the mv

word count: 1270

23:02h

Hi, how you doing?

I heard you seem to be happy now

Never in a million years Atsumu though he would sob so hard for someone

He never antecipated that his shitty behavior would draw away someone he loved so deeply

Although, his brother antecipated.

Since forever, Osamu knew that the raw words, the lack of tact, the uncaring demeanor and the obnoxious narcisistic behaviour would tire you out eventually.

And he alerted Atsumu, just as he did in high school.

So is safe to say the last person he could reach now was Osamu.

He know better than to hear a painful “I warned you, dumbass” from him in this state.

Not when he was still so vulnerable from this afternoon.

_____

13:43h

It had been three months of radio silence after the fight, and Atsumu was hanging on the thin thread of hope that you would come back to him. Just as you always did.

He didn't see it coming. But he wished he did.

While scrolling through the meaningless registers of people's lives, waiting for his coach, he saw the airplane window picture on your Instagram story, alongside the news that you were moving to another country.

Another fucking country.

Just like that.

Out of reach.

The ball fell. On his side of the court. The referee blew the whistle announcing that it was officially his loss.

But he never loses, how can it be?

He could feel the rush of adrenaline increasing his heart rate.

His body acted on his own.

He left his teammates confused at the gym and ran like he had never did in his entire life. Not even in a volleyball match to catch an unpredictable, difficult ball on the other side of the court. Not even in high school when he was late for practice, and the coach would scold him and double his warm-up laps.

His body ran towards a destination he knew all too well, apologizing to people he bumped into on the street until they all became a blur, and he gave up on his own awareness.

So you came around my house

And you left your marks with your fingertips

I'm sitting where you sat down

And now he's looking for something meaningless

The image of you picking that place because it was so close to both the MSBY practice gym and the office where you worked, and also had the best view of Tokyo at night, was burning somewhere in the back of his mind while his lungs worked double-time to keep up with his speed.

A couple of minutes of running, which felt like hours, he bumped gracelessly against the building door, opening it and fumbling inside.

Breathless, he almost broke the elevator button in his impatience, earning a glare from the doorman, who chose not to say anything due to the visible distress on Atsumu’s face.

Just like the mirrorless elevator, the hallway of the 13th floor seemed more claustrophobic than ever.

And the door of apartment 1307 no longer held the garland from last Christmas, the one you always claimed to forget there, but in reality, were just too lazy to remove, saying “Christmas is gonna be soon again” every time Atsumu pointed it out.

God fucking hell, he could swear he heard your voice in the back of his head, and he hated it.

His sweaty hands reached the doorknob. The door was unlocked, but the sight locked something inside him.

The bright, colorful, saturated walls you made him help you paint were now white.

It looked like a nightmare.

Each uncertain step he took inside the plain apartment was like a different stake driving into his heart.

The once lively space that echoed your goofy laughter and his loud one, but mostly your colorful warmth, was now nothing more than an empty shell.

His heart ached as he desperately clung to the fading memories of you.

Letting his sight scan the place, he spotted the small nook where you used to sit and read, the sunlight from the window casting a warm glow on the now vacant spot. The vision triggered a fresh wave of pain, his legs almost buckling under the weight of his grief.

He leaned his back against the plain white wall, sliding down to sit on the floor.

It was as if every inch of the apartment was screaming out your absence, the silence deafening.

He let himself drown in the sea of regret, each memory of you like a wave crashing over him, pulling him further into the depths of his despair.

And in that moment, Atsumu realized the full extent of his loss. Not just the loss of you, but the loss of the love and joy you brought into his life, the loss of the person he had become because of you.

And I'm sorry

I was hurting too much to know

That you were standing right there

And it hit him. All the times you were there for him when he was alone in Tokyo, way before his brother moved.

A country boy trying to reach his dream all alone. Trying to deal with the pressure all alone. Trying to handle the early stages of fame all alone.

But he was never alone.

He would cry comfortably in the crook of your neck while you combed his hair, soothing his soul.

“Breathe with me, baby,” you would say so softly to him when he was in the middle of some panic attack on a Wednesday night.

When the nightmares with the cameras, the press, and the fans woke him up, and you were just… there. Sleeping soundly. And his shaking figure would spoon you to scent the vanilla of your shampoo and calm himself down to sleep again, dreaming of taking you to the vineyards in Italy on his first vacation in-between seasons.

You were always there for him.

But he failed to remember when he was there for you.

You got a little nervous of running back to you

When you weren't there

____

18:33h

He didn't know how long he sat there, lost in his thoughts. But when he finally managed to pull himself together, the sun was already setting.

The view from the window was the same as he had seen so many times with you. But this time, it felt so different, so… dull.

Just like him now.

____

23:40h

He never anticipated that his shitty behavior would drive away someone he loved so deeply, even though Osamu anticipated it.

And now he was sobbing while his sore muscles were relaxing under the strong effect of the whiskey in his left hand.

His phone, forgotten all day in his pocket, was now in his right hand. His thumb purposefully ignoring all the missed calls from his teammates and his brother, to open a three-month-old chat.

Your picture almost made him throw the glass of whiskey against the living room wall. A picture that he took.

But he suppressed the bottled anger. His once unwavering steady setter hands, now trembling, typed away on a mission.

He wanted to be there for you at least once, knowing what’s best for you right now.

So against all the cells of his body pleading for your presence, he sent:

So many times I could've held on

How much I wished I'd never let you go

I still can't believe I left you alone

It tore me down to pieces, she’ll never know

[futurecorps3]

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭

Masterlist<3

Summary: Sirius and reader finally get together and it's time for dinner at the Potter's! Pairing: Sirius Black x fem!reader Warnings: Idk if it counts as a warning but there's Remus x Regulus for a quick second because I really just couldn't help myself HAHA, and brief mentions of war. Let me know if I missed any! Word Count: 2.8k Requested: Yes A/N: This request is so lovely,, I want to bawl my eyes out. Thank you so much @siriuslyjanhvi for this sweet little piece <3 hope u like it.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* "Darling, are you almost done? I don't want to rush you but- shit." His leg stopped bouncing and if his anatomy allowed it, his jaw would be on the floor. Y/N stood there in the black silk dress and chunky heels of the same color she got on their shopping trip last week, clumsily fidgeting with the silver necklace as she'd been too stubborn to ask for her boyfriend's help sooner. "I'm sorry love, it's just this stupid necklace clip won't...well, clip. Can you help me?"

Sirius stood behind her and gently took the metal piece off her fingers, noticing the retouched black nail polish now matching with his. "You look gorgeous," he mumbled, easily fixing the simple looking yet fancy piece of jewelry around her neck and placing a kiss on her shoulder blade. Y/N turned around, wrapping her arms next to his head as he cradled her waist. They've spent so many hours like this since they started dating -and even a little more before- it now feels too natural not to do it when facing each other.

"You don't look too bad yourself, Pads" the girl smiled cheekily, pecking his nose and pulling away from his grasp. "Let's go. Lily will kill us if she finds out we're late because we spent too much time 'gazing into each other's eyes' as she says we do." Sirius laughed airily, grabbing the coat she was clearly forgetting and fixing his hair one last time in the mirror before exiting their bedroom.

As they got into the cab and drove through the rainy streets of London, the boy looked over to Y/N who was intently staring at the droplets of water in the window. Anyone else would've guessed she was looking out into the sidewalk or small businesses along the road, but he knew better. He knew her. Sirius' mind then wandered to all those years he spent staring.

Staring at the way her cheeks reddened when he'd throw one of his seemingly meaningless flirtatious comments. Staring at how her hands contorted when writing, the specific position they had and how much strength she was applying in order for the parchment to stay intact but her letters to be clear. Staring at her as the sun came up on Hogwarts's rooftops and lit up her face beautifully, making him believe in that god his muggle friends mentioned so often.

Oh, how much time he had wasted! But he was too daft to realize little Y/N Y/L/N felt exactly the same way about him. She stared too. Lily once told him after he confessed that she sometimes zoned-out when thinking or staring too hard at him. They were equally whipped for each other and their friends even thought of running a bet on who'd break first. Sirius did and James, Peter, Marlene and Regulus would be fifty galleons richer to this day if the bet would've been concealed.

He felt his hand being squeezed, now actually staring at her and not lost thinking about her while his eyes happened to be directed in her direction. "M'sorry. What?" "I'm really nervous," she giggled anxiously and just then he realized she was tapping her feet lightly on the car's carpet. "Love, they've known you for years! Us moving together let alone dating won't change how they perceive you" "I know, it's just... Euphemia and Fleamont were too polite as to say anything last time we were over for movie night and I noticed little reaction from either of them!" That was over six months ago and they had been dating for four prior to that. After said night, the couple had independently seen Jame's parents, but not really together as a couple.

Euphemia had made small comments around the time they moved in together and Sirius figured she was trying to be respectful of his pace to formally introduce the lively girl they knew all too well as his girlfriend. That day was today. "We're going to be fine, my dear. They're well aware of what's been going on with us... consider this dinner to be merely a catch-up." She let out a breath she didn't know was holding and squeezed his hand again in confirmation.

Soon, the cab stopped. They both walked out after Sirius payed the man, almost giving him galleons. The Potter household had been some kind of sanctuary during the past few years, Y/N recalled as the warm lights bled outside. Inviting. Tender. Just like the family, the house sheltered. "Y'ready darling?" she asked now, as if she was not shitless scared herself. "Let's go," Sirius nodded, taking her hand in his once again and walking firmly towards the door.

The boy walked the few cobble stone steps that led to the entrance and knocked twice. "If it isn't the Blacks!" James smiled, engulfing his best friends in a bone-crushing hug, as always. He had this on-going joke after he proposed to Lily (and she said yes) that Sirius' had to pop the question to Y/N soon and referred to them as "The Blacks" every time they saw each other. "Hello, Jamie" Y/N giggled, kissing his cheek and stepping inside, letting her boyfriend's boyfriend and boyfriend hug for a little longer.

She looked over to the living room and found Remus sitting in one of the green and yellow corduroy couches, smoking a fag he quickly put out in the glass ashtray when she walked in, knowing there was nothing she despised more than the smell of smoke after she quit. Y/N's heart warmed at the action and opened her arms as the lycanthrope approached her. "Hello, sweetheart" he mumbled against her scalp "Hi, baby".

To anyone outside their circle, the interactions Y/L/N and Lupin had might've seemed odd; the nicknames, the regular physical touch, or the constant acts of service. Some could've thought they were dating and certainly there were more than best friends. They were in love with each other as one's in love with pretty flowers or sunsets. Purely platonic, but with a passion that could exterminate kingdoms if given the time. Almost like James's love for Sirius and vice versa.

"Have you tried the coffee?" he asked, pulling away while keeping an arm draped around her shoulders and pressing his mouth against her head. Y/N peered up at him with excitement in her eyes at the thought of the Colombian coffee Remus had gifted her. She looked forward to drinking a cup or two every morning. "It's the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love how you can bite into some tiny pieces of the coffee beans that remain after brewing it". Moony laughed at that, knowing exactly what she was referring to.

"It's great," Sirius' voice was heard as he was standing in front of them now. Remus smirked at his best friend. "I recall I bought that for Y/N/N, not for you, you nasty dog". Y/N's boyfriend barked a laugh and hugged him while roughly patting his back. "Good to see you too, Moons" he said between chuckles before pulling away.

"Mum and dad are in the kitchen, feel like making your grand entrance lovebirds?" James asked from afar, already walking towards said area with Remus trailing behind him. With Remus's warm embrace and how loved her friends made her feel, the stress she had been going through for the past days hours washed away. It was just Euphemia and Fleamont. It was just the Potters. They'd be okay.

Y/N looked at Sirius with expectancy in her eyes and a promise on her lips; they were ready. They held hands, squeezed his lightly and stepped to where their friends were. The spicy smell of whatever James's mom was cooking filled their nostrils, almost making them sneeze. She loved to experiment with them. Lily sat at the table, waving them briefly before she directed her gaze at her in-laws to see their reactions.

Euphemia and Fleamont stopped the meaningless, playful argument they were having about the dish in question and just stared. The silence made the fright come back. She wasn't sure if the sweat that now made her hands wet was from Sirius or from her (or both), Y/N sported a timid smile. "Mum, dad..." her boyfriend started, tightening her grip around her hand "...this is my girlfriend, Y/N". Remus couldn't help but giggle at his mate's behavior. "They know her already Pa-" "I know." He stated all too sure of himself, everyone except his parents laughing.

"Merlin" Euphemia sighed, walking towards them and stopping right there. "My babies!" he squealed, hugging them both just like James had when he greeted them. Y/N could barely return the hug before Euphemia cupped her face while smiling. Then she turned to look at Sirius. "Took you long enough! I thought I'd die before seeing you two together." She smiled wholeheartedly as the others laughed and uttered small agreements.

Fleamont then approached the girl, a knowing eye in his gaze as he always knew Y/N had a thing for Sirius. "I'm thrilled for you kids" he spoke, deep voice lazed in kindness just like the boy he raised. "Y/N was a nervous wreck before we got here," Sirius teased, and his girlfriend looked at him with wide eyes. He did not. "Why!? There's absolutely no reason for you to be-" "Your son's a liar, Euphemia. Come on, let's set the table boys" she cut off, glaring daggers at her lover as he responded by blowing her a kiss with a little wink and an arrogant smirk.

James's mom couldn't help but smile at the exchange. After some time, everyone sat at the table, eager to taste whatever the 'oh so great matriarch' (Lily's drunk praises) had prepared for them. Y/N sat next to her boyfriend, Lily, James and Remus on their other side and their parents sat on both vertical sides of the table. Sirius always left a seat next to him in case his brother showed up.

Naturally, he received invitations whenever these little gatherings would occur since he stuck around his boyfriend, but wouldn't show up or otherwise politely decline. Remus wasn't too bothered by it, knowing he had a hard time settling calmly in "enemy" lines with the whole deal of him being a spy for the Order. They all hoped he'd walk through their door one day... so, until then, the seat would remain intact.

"Be careful, it's burning hot" Euphemia warned, taking her place at the dinner table and smiling sweetly at everyone. "Here, darling" Sirius said, placing a napkin on Y/N's legs and as James noticed the gesture, did the same for Lily. His dad chuckled at that before everyone digged in.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Oh, I have one!" Her boyfriend said, patting his feet eagerly on the floor when Euphemia asked for anecdotes of their Hogwarts youth now that they got older and could disclose the details they all kept hidden when they were younger. "My dear girlfriend was advised by some former booger goblin that goes by the name of Lily Evans to take a shot of firewhiskey for confidence when playing truth or dare on Christmas break-"

"Oh no" Y/N facepalmed in embarrassment at the memory as her cheeks turned red. "-so she'd dare me to kiss her!" Remus groaned, knowing where the story ended. The room fell silent, Sirius and Y/N looking daringly at each other. The girl mouthed something, and he shook his head no, continuing with his story after his girlfriend rolled her eyes playfully.

"So, we are all sitting in the common room, merely cheery as miss Y/N is fully drunk from too many confidence shots and it's her turn to dare me... Mum, any guesses on what happened?" Sirius quizzed the woman on his right and she tried hard to guess.

"Your first kiss!" she exclaimed, eager to hear the end of the story as she and her husband remained ignorant of the situation when all the others knew it by heart. "No..." Sirius grinned as James made a buzzing sound like the one of the alarm on that shitty game show he watched with his fiancé. Batting his eyelashes at Y/N, her boyfriend graciously requested "Care to finish the story, babe?".

Theatrical silence fell into the room, broken by a giggle when the secret glance the couple shared (only Euphemia could perceive) became too much for the girl. "I chickened out and made Remus and Siri kiss...". James bursted out in laughter along with his father. His mom gasped and snickered as Remus smirked with Sirius grinning in satisfaction with his arms crossed around his chest, leaning back on his chair.

"I mean, there was a first kiss, right?" Y/N laughed, looking at her boyfriend. "You'd make a lovely couple, guys!" Fleamont said jokingly, and Moony gagged at the mere thought of dating his brother-in-law. "Oh come on Moons! Even mum agrees. Maybe you'll get lucky enough to be with the handsomer brother in the next life... Y/N/N won in this one" Y/N loved couldn't stand his audacity and delivered a well-deserved smack on the back of his head that had everyone laughing. "Kiss it better" Sirius demanded, leaning in as she pecked his head.

The moment came for everyone to move on to independent conversations, too invested in varied topics. "Mum, you're staring" James smiled, unbeknownst to the couple in question who were now gossiping amongst themselves about anything and everything. "They're perfect for each other, Jamie... He looks at her with adoration and so does she. I'm glad they found each other just like you did with Lils" she nodded, an honest smile adorning her cheeks.

The rest of the evening was spent in laughter, wine and enjoyable conversations, and, as Sirius stared over at the people he held most dear in the universe, he found his heart was full. For many years, this is what he'd wish for every night; a family. Back at the place those people dared to call home, the boy felt misplaced. Lost, like a coin someone dropped behind the couch and is never to be found. He had a family now, and he hoped he'd be able to keep it perpetually.

Around eleven; Remus left, the boys were smoking a cigarette outside, Lily was sleeping on the couch since she had been oddly tired in the past few days and Y/N along with Euphemia were washing the dishes.

"You look happy" the older woman said, passing her another wet dish Y/N dried with a red washcloth. "I am. I'm wearing the smile he gives me" she nodded and Euphemia giggled. "Everyone seemed to know except you guys, growing up" "What gave it away?" Y/N flushed "Eye contact is way more intimate than words will ever be and we always try to hide our feelings but we forget our eyes can speak; you stared a bit too long to be just friends".

The water on the sink started going down the drain with a funny sound as they both wiped away "When he confessed he said he had loved me every day of every month of every year since and asked if I had a single idea of how much he wanted to grab my face and kiss my god dammed mouth. I felt like the biggest fool... and a bit sad we lost so much time" Y/N reflected at the memory of her love spitting those words like a madman.

"Oh darling, you didn't lose time! Everything happens at the time that's meant to happen... it was certainly a excruciating long one in your case, but few couples have the connection you do. You're best friends. I see the secret glances and the pure interest when the other opens their mouth, no matter what they'll talk about. He's right; you're lucky to have him, and Sirius is lucky to have you." Euphemia rambled, the dishes long forgotten.

Y/N smiled, seeing a new perspective on a matter that had been in her head since they had started dating. Time only made the connection stronger. "Thanks, mum" she mumbled as the woman pecked her forehead "You're welcome, baby".

Meanwhile, outside, two best friends and their dad were having a very serious conversation. "It's been three weeks!" Fleamont exclaimed, puffing the smoke out his lungs "I know, I know... your baby boy has been non-stop bugging me about the matter since I got it" the raven haired boy snickered, flicking his second cig down to the floor and stepping on it. "I just don't get why it's taken you so long! What? Are you afraid she's gonna say no?" James now chimed in.

Sirius took the small velvet box out of his jacket, opening it and staring at the ring as he had been for the past month. He was absolutely fucking terrified. Not of her saying no. He knew she'd say yes... hell, even if she proposed he'd say yes in this lifetime and in the next trillion ones. "I just want it to be perfect. She deserves perfect".

Sirius Black ended up proposing to Y/N Y/L/N on a Tuesday morning over coffee. They hadn't slept at all the night before, and when the sun came up with the light bleeding into their shared home, he was looking at her. That was perfect.

And she said yes.