#angst series is gonna be wild tho

[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!)

[octoberautumnbox]

Happy Anni-box-sary!! :DDDD

Whew! It's been a year since I've started writing on this platform (and in general fsgsdjkfghjadskfh), and what a wild ride it has been. Ups and downs scattered throughout the year, but I really wouldn't have it any other way :uwuge:

All that said, let's move onto the box 2024 recap!

Yuri fics I've written: 8

Fly in the Night Trip

Love in the Night Train

Juicy Juicy

Friday

Adrenaline

Enjoy

I Got All I Need

Like It Like I Love It

buncha drabbles I didnt count, some of them fluff, some of them angst, all of them box 📦���

Yuri fics other people have written: 6

@fillinforlater's Friends that can Keep a Secret

@birchleavesdawn's Bitter Taste

@xshadowdelta's Former Manager pt. 1: Back in Town

@usedpidemo's Cruel Flower

@prael's Reality

@leafostuff's Operant Conditioning

Non-Yuri fics I've written: 11

in my best attempt not to double count when there was more than one idol in the fic (lmao),

1 for soloist Chaeyeon

1 for Kiss of Life

2 for woo!ah!

2 for tripleS

2 for Kep1er

3 for fromis_9

Funnest fics to write:

Hell Week: despite not doing sins's prompt justice, I really did enjoy how I built Yubin and OC's character, even as the writer i fell in love with how sweet Yubin came to be, and while I do think the sex could have been fluffier, i do like how i wrote the ending :DDD

Cute and Caring Noona from Apartment 424: i think deep down inside i knew the apartment thing was gonna come back, even at the time, though i had to promise myself it wouldn't be a series. Yujin and Xiaoting are still a killer duo i'd love to write but it wouldn't fit that well with what i've decided on what the apartment fics will be, instead i'm going with the direction that The Sultry and Pervy Soda in Apartment 307 went and go from there

Like It Like I Love It: EASILY my top 1 from this year. it was everything reader box would have wanted in a yuri fic: a casual relationship, a possibility that there's something more in it, hot sex (literally), and just the right amount (maybe a bit too little) of showing off babygirl yul. i really hope this isn't peak box but going back to why i started writing in the first place, which is that i wanted to see more quality yuri fics, this was something that if i were still a reader would have sated me for at least another year. good job box!

Idols/Groups I've come to know:

Kiss of Life: I think they debuted before me? I noticed Natty first bc ofc I did 😭 but quickly fell in love with how Bobsky just vibes so well with them aaaaaaa

tripleS: I started paying attention around Girl's Capitalism but I knew of them since Generation. I still know only like ten of them and still need to look up whether they're of age or what number S they are but I've written the group thrice now so worth :DDDD

Kep1er: zozi was tough for wizones and I'm not exception, so there was a lot of animosity to this group starting out. I only really started loving this group because of choiyuj, and it was me falling in love with that tiktok that cookies n seggs noona was ever made and it's been upwards ever since

Collabs:

One Heck of a Joyride with @leafostuff: simultaneously this took way too long and not long enough LMAO we started in Feb and released in May, if u can remember Best Job Ever and Like It Like I Love It came out in May too so that was hectic for me. but it's my first and to date only long fic and I hope someday to surpass it in terms of word count and idol nuguness :sitt:

Prompts:

@i-am-lifeform24's Curated Companions: this first major prompt I took part in, where I wrote Dito Muna Tayo :nolookk: it got me attention I didnt know how to feel abt (I still don't tbh) but it was a major step in the right direction to temper my expectations of myself: it reminded me to write for me

@msafterhours's Seasons: this was a major L for me jfkgjslahhf I wrote A Little Goes a Long Way, misunderstanding the prompt "Seasons" for "Seasoning" and making a cooking fic instead. it was a great laugh with him tho, and a memory I come back to fondly

@mintwithchoco's Favorite Song: I wrote Orange-Tinted Sunset with Sticky in mind but promising mint I'd break Belle's heart lmao, at the time my current favorite song switched from that to Nothing and it all just fell in place. I had the idea a long time ago for Haneul but this was the perfect chance to broaden my horizons yet again, and to my dismay it proved @0cta9on right that I kinda was okay at all three genres of fics that touched on after all :bearlazy:

Growth:

can't remember if I said it out loud on the tl but im not a serious writer! that just means that I dont consciously aim to improve how I write and I'm totally fine with the skills and style I have now, and any exp gained or skills learned is has been passively achieved

that said, I'm really so so happy with Fly in the Night Trip and Love in the Night Train. In my first ever fic i said i wanted my next work to be a smut, and that i would be able to write more of what i wanted on my blog soon. Enjoy was both of those, and i even got to write so much more of my ult bias throughout the year and then some. you could call it self-serving, or as @capslocked so eloquently put it, unconsidered readers, all of you. :sitt:

thats why im really happy to be able to come full circle with another fluff in Love in the Night Train, because i feel like it concludes such an awesome year in such an awesome way. id tell 2023 box that just keeping at it wouldve worked out so well, but the extra effort to write just a tiny bit better, to listen to @midnightdancingsol's advice, to stick with it even though work fucked us up (and still does) is going to be well worth it

Hiatuses: 2

ok obviously im not as proud of this one. but each time i did, it was me reevaluating how I run the blog and what sort of stuff I'm getting myself into. it was well worth taking a step back from writing and just figuring out what exactly I wanted to do, and the breaks did wonders for how I paced myself.

these were me asking myself questions that struck the very core of how I conduct this cacophony of a kpop smut blog. it made me aware of arbitrary rules I was holding myself to, and gave me a chance to do away with them. everyone has to clear out their inventory every once in a while, and these were mine :DDDD

Everything else:

ive stopped tracking notes bc I learned since I occasionally write nugu and non-smut to never expect 100+ and I'm always pleasantly surprised when I get there slfjglah but yeah, there's better things to keep track of like what I did above

these are what really matter to me: yuri, writing, and the community i've become part of. while I do think the 1022 club is a fun milestone to celebrate, anything else is a bit more work than i care to make a separate post about (except maybe on bluesky lmao)

at my core, im a glassy, a true fan of the little ball of sunshine that is jo yuri. i keep saying that as long as im able to make one of you lovely readers a fan of her too, i'll know i'm doing good! so to all you box followers, all you honorary glassys, please tune in to yuri! she just released her tenth(!!!) OST entitled Spring Days Pass, will appear in Squid Game season 2 which premieres on Dec. 26 on Netflix, and is bound to have a comeback lined up soon :cuteplead: please join me in supporting her! :DDDD

Aaaaand that's it I think? A wild ride for sure, and I'm happy to have spent it here doing what I love. Hopefully all you readers also show greater support to my fellow writers and friends on here, and as always, stay tuned for more box fics in the future!

Thanks for reading, and see you all in October Autumn Box season 2!!

[wonlovie]

— RACING, BEATING PART II TEASER !

read part i here

— starring. illegal-racer!heeseung x model!reader

— tags. arranged-marriage!au, pre-established relationship, minor angst (if u squint??), reader gets objectified, smut [oral (m. receiving), face fucking, vaginal fingering, degrading (use of whore, slut; heeseung 'accuses' reader of wanting to fuck someone else during sex), mean-dom!heeseung, car sex [MINORS DNI])

— word count. [teaser] 0.6k, [estimated] 4k

— notes. HAH i did this instead of sleeping even tho i have a midterm today // this is ltrly only smut atm LOL

Heeseung caressed his knuckles against the length of your hollowed cheeks with a gentleness that contrasted his thrusts. Tears burned your eyes, the back of your throat sore from his abuse. The sound of wet slick and choking gasps almost rivaled your heartbeat as you stared up at the man.

He was almost fully dressed—a simple black blazer thrown on over a red silk top, ironed black slacks that fell to his perfectly shined shoes. His hair was styled up neatly, showing you the expanse of his forehead glistening with sweat.

A hand reached to cup the back of your head, keeping you in place as he fucked into your wet cavern relentlessly.

“Fuck,” he breathed out in a whine, head thrown back against the leather seats as he groaned loudly. “Fuck, fuck, baby, you’re taking me so fucking well.” His lips parted, ruby red lipstick smudged over his visage, staining the silver lip ring. Heeseung’s jaw dropped as you swallowed around his cock, a series of long, winded whines coming from the back of his throat.

“Shit, princess. Gonna make me cum,” he warned you, dropping his head down to look at you through hooded eyes. His newly dyed black hair fell over his irises, obscuring them from view. His face pinched in pleasure as he lifted his hips against your plush lips. “You’ll take it for me, yeah? Swallow every last drop like the good little whore you are.” His nails dug into your scalp.

You pressed your thighs together, the carpet floor of the backseat rubbing harshly against your bare knees. The dress you’d worn, a little black number that you picked out just for Heeseung, had ridden up to your waist. The fabric bunched prettily around your hips, showing off that you had forgone undergarments.

He watched you breathlessly, eyes darting from your teary eyes to the way your little mouth took him so well. He didn't miss the way you tried to covertly rub yourself, thighs moving slowly—a futile attempt to feel something against your aching clit.

His cock twitched against your tongue as you licked at a jutting vein, a perfectly manicured hand coming up to cup his aching balls. He watched tenderly as you switched from suckling on his angry red tip to taking his length fully, your nose tickling against his happy trail. His thrusts grew wild, a loss in rhythm suggesting he was close.

“Gonna paint your mouth white, baby,” he hissed, tugging at your matted strands. “God, you look so pretty covered in my cum. Wanna make a mess out of you so bad.”

You whined, your muffled tone vibrating against his dick. He cried out your name, low moans tumbling from his pretty lips as he came, shooting hot and thick ropes of cum down your throat. You blinked away tears, a burning sensation left behind as he pulled his length out from your mouth. Spurts of cum spilled from his tip and you lolled your tongue out as Heeseung dragged it over your face.

His chest heaved as he stared at you, adoringly as though he was admiring his art. “Fucking hell,” he hushed, tugging you impatiently onto his lap. You fell clumsily against him, legs bumbling to straddle his small waist. You moaned in unison when your dripping core rubbed against his cum and saliva coated cock, your hips twitching in anticipation.

Heeseung sighed out your name against your lips as he cupped your cheek with a large hand. The coolness of his rings made you shiver as he pulled you in for a kiss. His mouth moved against yours slowly, his tongue flicking out against your lip. His kiss was hot and wet, his tongue caressing yours in a way that made you crumble atop his lap.

— permanent taglist.

@jaeyunsleftnostril @deobitifull @jenowhere @moonchus @1-800shutthefuckup @lilriswife4life @ni-kisgf @fakeuwus @tya0 @chickenscoups @in-somnias-world

©WONLOVIE please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

[renekoyuki]

Ok it took me longer than it should've to find art - I'm gonna try and keep this simple while still explaining what they're related to?

An entire essay under the cut

This is Grian - chaotic bird guy - associated with watchers and purple eyes and stuff - also won the first season of the life series, third life - represents the sun ( kinda ) - oh yes also he's short.

( original )

Lizzie LDShadowLady !

She's generally sweet - ( she raised me ) sometimes drawn as a bug , fairy, or as above a canary ( the canary curse is essentially a curse that causes a player to be out first in the life series - Lizzie died first in secret life an d for a while she was called the new canary - also the curse is fully broken now I'm pretty sure)

( original )

Scar/gtws

Ok how do I explain - scar's one of my favorites and I genuinely don't know how I explain him -

hes silly - charismatic/silver tongued - everyone has collectively decided he's tall and jacked and that he has scittes ( scar titties ) - he does alot - Oh and he won secret life/life series season 5 and could not leave that world and could not die and was all alone in a field of sunflowers where 'shadow people's would visit him- he's usually represented by the earth/ sunflowers or lilacs and poppies - He's also shipped with Grian which is desert duo/scarian. ( The lilacs and poppies came from these two ) People such as myself who cannot for the life of them stop thinking about these two have never left the desert - oh yes and he cannot keep a shirt on for over 5 seconds

Couldn't find much art that had his default skin so this is my piece from the coloringwithhermits ( line art )

He's basically drawn with an aviator jacket/some form of brown jacket

( Yes I had to pick an angst-ish piece )

This is Joel smallishbeans !! He has mania. He will insult you at every turn. He's pathetic. I love him. He loves his wife ( Lizzie ) more than anything in the world - he won the latest season - wild life - and the fandom will never decide on what his celestial body is so he's a car ( tho for that specific fanart - a black hole. I feel like he's the chariot constellation personally bc it's the closest actual thing to a car also it's close to Gemini, I'm running off track ) - he's also usually hell-bent on surviving longer than Scott - also he goes on mad red killing rampages on his last life and it's fun to watch - he was shrek for a good while - so he's drawn with skrek/alien antenna? Head things? I dont know what they're called.

( original )

Yea ok I think that's all ? I just wanna see how you draw them :3

will draw you anythibg you want please send me these people’s fan designs i need it for my sister’s christmas gift and idk who tf these people are. any personality/signature items/important details (like. are they dead???? running jokes??? etc) would be so helpful and ilysm dear sister if you see this kindly turn a blind eye

[dreamscapesin1582]

Happy New Year 2019~!!

I was late to posting this in this blog but happy new year to each and every one of you! I sincerely hope you guys have an awesome year ahead! ♡

I know I don’t write as much as the other lovely blogs out there, but each time I post I get so much love and positive feedback from you all and I just hnggghnbvfdrtyujbv. Thank you so so much! I really don’t think my writing is good enough but it makes me happy to see so much love; only one of the reasons why I am fond of this fandom!

Now, one of my resolutions for 2019 is to write more often! My schedules and my penchant for procrastinating does not really help at all but for this year I will try my best! I revamped my masterlist that way so that I could look at it and have the urge to fill up the blanks haha. 

I am hyped to write more for Ikemen Revolution as well!  God knows what will happen to me once Ikemen Vampire comes out lmao. 

I have so much plans for this blog that I hope you guys will look forward to! 

First off, yes, I will continue From Death, With Love. I was really doubtful about the whole thing but then I received word that people like it so I will continue it! Now I regret stopping at the actual midpoint of the series but it’ll start moving again after I get used to the fatal attack of homework when classes start tomorrow HAHA.

Next up is kind of an apology but I will probably never stop writing angst. I’m starting to think that I’m incapable of writing anything else lmao. Due to this, I have already planned an angst theme-based individual fic series starring everyone. And yes, both Ikemen Sengoku and Ikemen Revolution. (two games = two different themes tho) That comes out sometime later after I finish FDWL.

Also, I barely have any idea about Ikemen Vampire but I’m sure af I will jump at it the moment it’s out and high chances it’s going to be another option on this blog AHAHAHAHA. I won’t guarantee anything just yet but knowing myself and my shitty self-control, well. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I have plenty more to say but I don’t want to make big ass promises and not do it because that’s what I usually do and I don’t want you guys to wait so much only to be disappointed lmao

But here’s a bit of bad news, I won’t be taking requests at the moment to give a little time to at least prepare for all this. I have one more coming up, and after that I won’t be writing requests for a while. Just want to have a little start up before being a normal writing blog and start taking requests lmao.  

Then again, thank you so much for sticking with me this past year! Even though I don’t respond as much, I see every like & comment and it always makes my day. I want you all to know that I appreciate you! Thank you so much! 

Here’s to a great year ahead! (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

P.S. I mostly keep bits of updates on whatever I do on my Twitter account! If you wanna have a bit of idea of what the heck I'm doing or writing, go there! ☆

[yichens]

reveal your watch & rewatch drama list

thank you for tagging me mor @liyazaki ♥ it’s been a while since i did this so let’s go~

Watching:

KinnPorsche  so hyped for the last ep tho am also feeling kind of sad ;; it’s been a wild ride! the time has passed super quick and am not ready to let go of this insanity 

Sky in Your Heart has turned out to be way better than the sister series which was nice but didn’t reach the emotional high i was expecting. big 1000 stars vibes bc of the mountain/voluntary work setting. i am enamored by fah/mek and am expecting these last few eps to absolutely destroy me emotionally 

Triage an absolute wild card. never expected anything from this but has turned out to be amazing?? really hoping aisplay wasn’t such a bitch and made it easier to watch this series but what can i do really, i can only sob in my corner 

The Truth (开始推理吧) an absolutely bonkers chinese variety show, tho i think basically every c-variety is just insane. i love it so much. it’s so cool. lyn is doing amazing, i love him so much and i think i want to just put both guo qilin and zhou shen inside my pocket 

Ms. Cupid in Love have watched this until ep 18 where the angst hit and then wasn’t really prepared to get sad over this so i put this on hold... i wanna finish this soon tho ;;

The Umbrella Academy S3 i have watched until ep 5 and i am just!!! i love my dysfunctional superpower family so much, they are absolutely bonkers ♥ also very much enjoying seeing all of their character development in this season! they have all changed so much  

Starting soon (bc you did, I will too!!):

Vice Versa i don’t probably have to tell anyone how abnormal i am about this. there’s one more week to go. i will be at work when the first ep drops and i am suffering :) please pray for me. i think i already love puen way too much and the plot seems amazing and i am ready to sob my heart out 

To My Star 2 really wanna get into this bc i’ve seen and heard good things. i just dunno if am emotionally capable. tho if we’re gonna continue with the sobbing then why not add this to the pile 

Rewatching:

My Country: The New Age this is very much on hold. i started this rewatch at the beginning of the year, got to ep 3 and then just. left it hhhh. every ep just requires so much preparation with how much this show legit Hurts to watch. i wanna continue tho bc i miss the tragedy

Heroes gonna start on this rewatch soon!! i wanna sob again. i wanna write something for bcf who is my absolute beloved ♥ also i will fix all of them, trust me, they deserved better writing 

tagging: @dimpledpran @namchyoon @patprans @ashenlights @i-am-just-a-kiddo @snimeat @psychic-waffles @basvpr @eohachu @icouldhyperfixatehim ♥ no pressure and if you did this already, link it to me! and i apologize if i just forgot :’D

[jenrecs]

i am already obsessed with this !! i think it's been like 4 months since i read your last series (wwh) and i have missed your writing so much !! i know xmas yoongi just came out but like, i missed that gradual build up that you get with a series y'know, especially with your series !!!!!!!! anyway i'm just gonna get into it. one chapter and mffmhh is already one of my fav series 😚

“Please, no,” you beg. “Please tell me this is a joke. I can’t live with a man. Do you know what men are like?”

literally the first line and i'm already obsessed with her. also the having to wear a bra all the time thing, babygirl sending you well wishes 😭 could never be me, i would die before i'd consider living with a male roommate (unless..... they are one of seven very specific people.....)

You won’t talk about how you wish Taehyung would offer more than his couch.

You won’t talk about how when he’d said, “You know, you could stay with me,” in that deep, comforting voice of his, your heart had run wild. 

i'm so used to loving your other tae's and them being so flirty from the get-go that throughout this entire chapter i kept expecting smth romantic to happen even tho i know it's unrequited 💀

ngl i really really enjoyed all the details of the moving process and unpacking. it was satisfying for some reason, like i could imagine everything coming together so nicely and her getting to craft a whole space of her own, those paragraphs just felt so nice

Luckily, you’re saved from yourself by a knock at the front door. This strikes you as so polite, because not only is Namjoon going to literally live here, but also because the door is still propped wide open.

this made me smile askshfkg he is so 😭

He’s all in browns except for a pair of light-wash jeans. He’s got a dark brown beanie tugged low on his head, and even his thin, wire-frame glasses seem to be chosen for the vibe above all else.

WHY DID I NEVER THINK THAT MFFMHH!JOON WOULD WEAR GLASSES LMFAO THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING FOR ME. HOT HOT HOT

At one point you wander out of your room to get some water and you freeze in your bedroom doorway, struck by how lonely it feels. 

ah the seed of angst... hate how this could potentially peak but i also love the pain. i am ready to be hurt

“JayKay!” you call happily. “Welcome to my house!”

He laughs, nose scrunching with delight. “Y/N,” he crows. “Where should I put the couch?”

i am so prone to jk that when he popped up i was like ah yes, my boyfriend is here kekekekekkeke 😌😚 and then i remembered that oops no we're not here for him 💀

Getting up the stairs with your groceries sucks, but you make it, panting like crazy as you finally unlock the front door and let yourself in.

literally same. as someone who lives on the 4th floor of a building with no elevator and who buys a shit ton of stuff every time she goes grocery shopping bc she only wants to buy groceries a couple times a week, i relate to this on a molecular level. having to haul all that shit is exhausting, i gotchu bbygurl

Conversation flows better with Taehyung in the mix; he talks so much, it almost doesn’t matter if anyone else does. 

when i read this my first thought was why is he literally like my mom 😭 she could be calling me telling me smth i don't care about and i could leave the phone there for 15 whole minutes and come back and she'd still be talking 😭

Taehyung hugs you before leaving, and you snuggle into the embrace, body exhausted from the moving process. He rests his chin on top of your head, swaying you around a little bit. 

i swooned ngl 😭 tae bear for the love of god please reciprocate my love 😭

Taehyung definitely sleeps around, but he’s surprisingly tight-lipped with you about it. You’re not sure if he’s sparing you, or he’s actually just a gentleman.

why did i not consider that tae would be seeing/sleeping w other people. oh oc bbygurl let me give you a hug 😭 it's okay we have joon now (who is much cleaner than tae so, you're already upgrading) you don't have to think about bear and his boy cooties anymore 😭

If you lose him, it isn’t just that you’ll lose him - and trust, that would be devastating - it’s also that you would be deeply alone. 

pain, oh pain, oh pain, oh pain. very scared but cannot wait to watch shit blow up 😈 oh what a chapter, what a *chef's kiss* start to the series. i will lay down my life for this series. you are spectacular jo 🥰

I. My Wild-Running Heart || KNJ

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni

Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader

Beta'd by @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!

Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love. 

Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.

//

When your roommate bails last-second and leaves you completely in a bind for the new school year, your best friend Taehyung mentions that his friend Namjoon needs a place off-campus, too.

Section Warnings: language

WC: 7k

The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay

Friday August 28 

“Please, no,” you beg. “Please tell me this is a joke. I can’t live with a man. Do you know what men are like?”

Taehyung, quite a specimen of man last time you checked, cocks an eyebrow at you. “Y/N,” he says flatly. “You’re doing it again.”

It meaning being dramatic, and you resent that implication.

You whine, shuffling your feet unhappily. “But Tae,” you say - okay, you whine. “If my roommate is a guy, then I have to wear a bra in the apartment, like, all the time.”

“Oh my god,” he says, throwing his hands in the air, completely over you. “Do you want my help or not? What are your other options right now?”

How nice of him to ask. 

You’d been so excited to lease an apartment off-campus for your final year of university, even more excited to share it with a girl in your writing program named Penny. You hadn’t thought twice about putting the lease in only your own name, but when Penny texted you - the audacity of her to not even call - to say she wasn’t going to return in the fall after all, you were stuck with the responsibility.

So, since Taehyung asked, your options are this: pay the entire rent by yourself (impossible), or find a roommate, fast. 

“Namjoon’s a really good friend of mine,” Taehyung tries again. “I am personally vouching for him that he’s not a weirdo or a creep. His building flooded and he’s in a bind - just like you. He’s nice, he’s smart, and he’s normal.”

“What about clean?” you prod. 

Taehyung shrugs. “Cleaner than me.”

You sigh. You know Taehyung is right - you need someone quickly, and at this rate you’re bound to only find creeps. At least this guy - even though he’s a guy, which is your main issue - has been vetted.

“You’re not very clean,” you tell your best friend.

He grins at you, guilty as charged. 

“Could we talk first?” you suggest, nerves churning. “Like, can I meet him?”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you. “Did you think I was going to drop the key off at his place and say ‘okay, have fun!’?”

“Maybe!” you cry, feeling a little hysterical. 

Taehyung rolls his eyes at you. “Want me to see if he can swing by the place tomorrow?”

The plan for the next day was originally for you two to load up your car through the morning, grab lunch somewhere, and then start moving your stuff into the apartment after you ate. 

“Yeah,” you answered. “That actually sounds like a good plan. Then he can see the apartment, too. And you’ll be there with me.”

“Actually a good plan,” Taehyung parrots with a scoff. “Please.”

After your lunch date, Taehyung drops you back home so you can finish packing. You’d packed a lot already - all of your big pieces of furniture were there already, your bedroom now just a mess of random piles of clothing and your bare mattress on the ground. A lot of what you still had were things you knew you’d need to use again during the days you were starting to pack - toiletries, electronics, that kind of thing. With a sigh, you turn on some music and start pulling hangers out of your closet. 

You think about your situation as you work. You’re disappointed about Penny - you’ve lost a roommate and a good friend, somehow. You’re nervous about meeting Taehyung’s friend Namjoon. You’re somehow both excited for and dreading the academic year starting - your final year, complete with a senior thesis course you’ll have to pass in June. And you’re excited for the apartment - your first one that isn’t an on-campus dorm. 

No campus security knocking on the doors, no RA going through your fridge for forbidden liquor bottles, no shared hallway bathrooms. With your own bedroom in the apartment, you’re guaranteed a space that is just yours, a sanctuary where you can have the quiet you crave and aesthetic you want, your own four walls that are completely your own. 

Taehyung’s apartment, which he shares with two friends, isn’t far from your new one - walking distance, actually. He’d offered you his couch there when Penny first bailed. But even if you took his offer, you’d be charged for breaking your lease, and you’d still have to find something more permanent - which would mean another security deposit, not to mention rent. As long as you kept the optimism that you’d successfully secure and keep a roommate, staying was the cheaper option.

You won’t talk about how you wish Taehyung would offer more than his couch.

You won’t talk about how when he’d said, “You know, you could stay with me,” in that deep, comforting voice of his, your heart had run wild. 

Then he’d continued, “That couch isn’t too bad to sleep on, I’ve done it before. And the guys wouldn’t mind. Then you’d have time to find something new, maybe something you can afford alone?”

And your wild-running heart had stuttered, stumbled, caught its footing, stood still. 

You can’t even get mad at him. He’s trying to help. It’s not his fault - at all - that he doesn’t know that your imagination leapt off a cliff at his words, was already picturing snuggling in his bed, those strong arms tight around your middle, was already picturing waking up to his sleepy smile. 

You don’t pretend for even a second that it’s anyone’s fault but your own. 

--

Around ten pm your Aunt Lin comes and knocks on your open door, looking down at the scene before her: you, sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor, surrounded by half-closed boxes, miscellaneous items strewn around the floor around you, clothing piled up like mountains around you.

“You don’t look very ready,” she remarks.

“That’s helpful, thank you,” you say. 

Lin has raised you ever since you lost your grandmother, who had taken care of you before that. Your grandmother and Lin are the only parental figures you can really remember, but Lin’s technically only ten years your senior and has always felt more like a big sister than a mother. You can’t fault her for it; she was still quite young when she took over raising you. She certainly didn’t have to take you in, but she had, and she’d done her best. 

Lin chuckles. “Why isn’t Taehyung here helping?”

You roll your eyes. “He’s my friend, not my servant. He’s helping me move all this in tomorrow, that’s plenty.”

Lin shrugs, already disinterested. “Okay,” she says lightly. “Well, I wanted to say good luck with the move, and good luck with school this year. Let me know if you need anything.”

You look up from your packing and take in her appearance. She’s in scrubs, a huge thermos of coffee in her hand. She’s got work tonight, then, and won’t be here in the morning when Taehyung picks you up. You should have figured. 

“Thanks,” you say. 

She shifts, looking down the hall instead of at you, suddenly. Lin’s not great with emotions; it’s where you get it from.

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll see you for winter break? If not before?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah. Definitely by then.”

She nods, tells you goodbye, and heads down the hallway. You hear the front door close, and you’re alone with your boxes. That’s about as mushy as it gets with Lin.

[11:44 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: what time tmrw?

[11:45 PM] You: you drive the car, you tell me

[11:51 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: 10?

[11:54 PM] You: you think that’s enough time to pack up the car and drive there before lunch?

[11:58 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: 🙄 this is why i asked YOU what time

[12:01 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: 😤

[12:02 AM] You: 9:30 

[12:03 AM] You: and bring me iced coffee 🤗 plsssss???

[12:06 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

[12:08 AM] You: love u tete

[12:11 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: yeah yeah love you too 

You press the top of your phone into your forehead, closing your eyes. Letting yourself pretend, for just a second, that he could mean it the way you do.

Saturday August 29

Taehyung shows up in the morning - at ten, not nine-thirty, but he has an iced coffee for you in his car, so you let him live. 

It takes you over an hour to load up the car, the boxes and suitcases and garbage bags squished together, shoved impossibly tight, the world’s most desperate game of tetris. Taehyung declares it impossible no less than five times, bemoaning that he’ll have to make the hour drive a second time in order to fit all of your shit. 

In the end, you make it happen. It just takes a little determination. 

The drive to your university is around an hour, depending on traffic. You and Taehyung both don big, goofy aviators and blast music as you sail down the highway, the backseat loaded floor to ceiling. The car is so stuffed, you even have boxes between your feet and on your lap. 

The sun shines brightly down on you as you and Taehyung sing and groove your way through the drive, and you feel… so content, so sure that this is right, that you’re meant to be next to him, like this, forever. Like everything in the universe just clicked together to give you the perfect snapshot of how things are meant to be. 

What if you said it? What if you told him? 

Sometimes, moments like now, you just can’t fathom how he doesn’t feel it too. 

But you know better. You know he doesn’t - doesn’t want to. Something deep inside you tells you to tread carefully with this best friend of yours. Something instinctual tells you that the dysfunctional friendship you’ve crafted together is a Jenga tower and if you so much as nudge the wrong brick, it’s all coming down. 

You eat lunch at a table out in front of a cafe, people watching and basking in the sunlight. It’s the last, trickling days of August, but today’s breezy and cooler. It’ll warm up again before fall comes in full force, you’re sure, but you appreciate the reprieve from the scorching heat, since you’re about to spend several hours hauling boxes up a stairwell.

After lunch, Taehyung drives to your new neighborhood and finds a street-parking spot close to the front entrance of the tall, brick building.

“Okay,” he says. “Now the fun part.”

You giggle. “Have I told you yet that I appreciate you?”

“Elaborate, please,” he says, which is so typical for him. He looks over at you, sunglasses low on his nose.

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “I appreciate you helping me move in. I appreciate you driving me. I appreciate the afternoon you’re about to spend carrying boxes and shit.”

“You’re forgetting something,” he tells you sagely.

You want to whack him in the belly for being so obnoxious, but you can’t risk him dumping all your stuff on the sidewalk and fucking off to let you deal with the stairs on your own. 

“I appreciate you finding me a roommate so I don’t have to sleep on your couch,” you add.

“There we go.” Satisfied, he unbuckles, and you both get out and examine the backseat for whichever Tetris piece seems like it could be removed easiest. Arms full of boxes, you make your way up the steps to the little lobby that houses a wall of mail slots, and then up a second set of stairs to your second-floor apartment.

You set down the box you were carrying and dig out the key, opening the door to your new home.

You really do love this apartment. Through the open space - past the kitchen and through the living room - sunlight streams in through the large front windows that overlook the city block below. You can already see in your mind where you’ll put plants on low tables, or hanging from the ceiling.

You had done the big stuff days ago, with both Lin and Taehyung’s help; Lin had rented a little moving van and you’d loaded up the big furniture. From Lin’s house, you’d taken your bedframe and boxspring, leaving just the mattress in your old bedroom at Lin’s house. You’d also loaded up your low dresser, a nightstand, and two bookshelves. You’d gotten a few pieces from a local repurposing store - a desk to work at and a little swiveling chair to go with it. Your final splurge was an expensive mattress; the one in the store had felt like damn clouds. It was set to be delivered sometime this afternoon. 

You’re already looking forward to going to sleep later.

You and Taehyung try to just put boxes where they’re meant to go. Two boxes end up in your bathroom, another two in the kitchen. You split the books between your bedroom and the living room, where a lone bookshelf is the only current piece of furniture. You heave bags of clothes and linens into your closet, determined to deal with them later. 

The mattress delivery goes smoothly, the truck arriving as you and Taehyung are about halfway done unloading the car. You leave the building’s front door and your apartment door propped open and both teams do their thing: the delivery guys carrying the mattress up the steps, you and Taehyung behind them with garbage bags full of your clothes or boxes of books. 

“You,” Taehyung pants, “have way too much stuff.”

You grin sheepishly, as in the other room your new mattress is removed from its plastic wrap and placed atop your awaiting boxspring. You’re itching to dig out your linens and make the bed; that’s always what makes a room feel ready to you, even back when you were just setting up a little dorm. Once the bed was made, everything else slowly fell into place. 

Once the delivery truck rolls away, you throw yourself bodily onto the mattress, letting out a series of happy groans as you let the pillowy goodness envelop you. 

“Taehyung,” you call tantalizingly. “Come feel it.”

You hear him drop a box in the living room with an audible oof - it must have been more books - and then he comes into your new bedroom and flops sideways across the bed next to you, the mattress jumping and settling again under his weight.

“Wow,” he says, rolling on his back and then turning to look at you, his legs bending to touch the floor. “This is nice. Let’s trade, I’ll bring mine over.”

“Nope,” you say, smiling. “I bought this one with my hard-earned summer money. It’s just for me.”

“Yeah,” he says, voice wry, “for you and your guests.”

Now you do whack him in the belly. He grunts, hands covering the spot, then lays still again.

“That wasn’t nice,” he comments mildly. “No hitting.”

“What guests?” you pout. “I haven’t had a guest since–”

“Ah, spare me the Great Drought of 2022 story,” he begs. He sits up, reaching into his pocket. As his hand retracts, you realize his phone is buzzing with an incoming call.

“Bro,” he says as a greeting, and then listens. “Yeah, we’re here now. That’s fine. Sounds good. Okay.”

He taps to hang up and looks at you. “Namjoon is almost here. That’s fine, right?”

“I was right here,” you huff. “Yes, it’s fine, but you literally could have asked me.”

Taehyung ignores you. “There’s one more box. I’ll go get it, and then I’ll stay while you meet with Joon, and then I’m gonna go, okay?”

“Oh,” you say, heart sinking a little bit. You’d kind of hoped he’d stick around, just hang out and goof off while you unpacked boxes and organized your stuff. “Sure.”

He reads you like a book; he always does.

“Don’t pout,” he says, and there’s something apologetic in his tone. “I just have to do some stuff today. And I really need to shower, this got me all sweaty.”

Well, you don’t need that mental image. Luckily, you’re saved from yourself by a knock at the front door. This strikes you as so polite, because not only is Namjoon going to literally live here, but also because the door is still propped wide open.

You sit up, fixing your hair from where you laid on it. Taehyung has already made his way through the living room and is giving a one-handed bro-hug to the guy at the door. You make your way over, heart thumping. 

You notice a few things right away. He’s tall - taller than Taehyung, and you don’t see that often. His eyes are absolutely striking - there’s sharpness to them, something that makes you want to see the world how he does, something that makes you want to keep looking, something that makes you curious about how he’d see you. 

When he smiles, each cheek dimples, the perfect size for the pad of your index finger. He’s all in browns except for a pair of light-wash jeans. He’s got a dark brown beanie tugged low on his head, and even his thin, wire-frame glasses seem to be chosen for the vibe above all else.

“Hi,” you say, sounding a little shy even to your own ears. Taehyung moves out of the way and you reach to shake Namjoon’s hand. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you. Taehyung promised me you’re normal.”

The guy lets out one big laugh, surprised. “He told me the same,” he says conspiratorially, “but really, that’s such a subjective thing.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, and you step back to let Namjoon in, preparing to show him around. 

“Kitchen and living room are here,” you say unnecessarily, since he can see for himself. “Your bedroom would be on this side.” You push open the door and Namjoon sticks his head in. The room is completely bare, the empty closet door standing open. 

“You get your own bathroom,” Taehyung points out. Namjoon nods appreciatively, still looking silently back and forth across the room that would be his as soon as you pass him a key.

“Is it okay?” you ask, suddenly feeling nervous. If this guy backs out, you’ll be back at square one, and now with less time to solve the problem.

“Oh,” he says, as if remembering he should communicate. “Yeah! It’s great.” He turns and peers at the living room, which is empty but for your lone bookshelf and several boxes of books, unopened.

“I have some stuff we can put here, if you want?” he asks, his tone a little uncertain. “Specifically, I have a couch and coffee table, plus a TV and a console to put it on. It should all fit.”

“That would be great,” you say enthusiastically. “I was already stressing out about saving up enough for a couch.”

He nods easily, looking around the room thoughtfully. Taehyung has wandered over to the large windows and is looking up at the tree that stands right outside, the branches waving lightly in the afternoon breeze. With the sunlight coming in, he looks like a painting. 

“I have a rug, too,” Namjoon muses. “Would you be interested in that?”

“Definitely,” you tell him, tearing your eyes away from Taehyung’s back. There’s something knowing in Namjoon’s face as he watches you, and you flush, feeling weirdly caught.

“Okay,” he says, “I’ll bring it. What about kitchen stuff?”

“I don’t have a ton,” you admit, pointing to the two boxes - not very big ones - that you’ve left on the kitchen counter. “If you’ve got more, that’s probably good. I don’t cook that often, to be honest. I’m not very good at it.”

Namjoon smiles at you, leaning over a little like he’s letting you in on a secret. “I can barely boil water,” he admits. “So you’re all good.”

You stand together as you discuss how you’ll be splitting the monthly costs for the utilities, not to mention the high-speed wifi that’s getting set up in two days. That leaves you to work out the rent, what day it’s due and how you want to handle paying it. In the end, you decide that he’ll electronically pay you, and you’ll pay the landlord, since it’s your name on the lease. He pays you right there on the spot, and you pass him the key that was meant for Penny.

“Is it okay if I start moving my things tomorrow?” he asks you.

You shrug. “This place is yours now, too,” you say easily. “You can honestly do what you want.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll probably start in the morning then?”

“I can’t promise I’ll be up,” you laugh, “but don’t let that stop you!”

“Should we…” he pauses, adjusts his glasses. “Should we exchange numbers?”

Taehyung makes a face you know well; it’s the face he makes when he wants to laugh or make fun of something, and he’s doing the Good Person Thing by keeping the thought to himself, but he wants to make sure you know by his face that he is holding it in. He wants credit for doing the Good Person Thing.

You honestly hate him sometimes. It’s the only thing keeping you from tipping straight into insanity. Sometimes, I really hate Taehyung. 

“Yes, we probably should,” you say, because someone in this room needs to act like they aren’t twelve years old, and it’s not going to be Kim Taehyung, apparently.

You do, and then Namjoon tells you both goodbye, making his way back out to the hallway and down the steps. You can hear his footsteps fall away into nothing. 

Taehyung looks at you, smiles angelically. “See?” he says. “I told you he was nice.”

He reaches for his keys on your kitchen counter. You frown, detecting his imminent departure. 

“Will you come over tomorrow?” you ask, a little pitifully. 

He considers this, and nods. “For dinner?” he suggests. 

“Yeah,” you say. “We still won’t have wifi yet. We’ll be bored.”

“Only boring people get bored,” Taehyung says sagely, holding up one finger like a wizened philosopher. Then he comes to hug you goodbye, pulling you into a sweet embrace. You want to live there, in the spot between his arms. 

Once he’s gone, you look around your new home. Alone, you decide to put on music and start tackling boxes. You start in the bathroom, finding towels so you’ll be able to shower in the morning, unpacking all your toiletries, setting up your toothbrush just so. You do the kitchen second; the sun sets outside as you find places for your battered pots and pans. 

You stop for dinner, getting take-out from a place nearby that delivers. Then you dive back in, setting up your bedroom. It feels cozy already, once the bed is made and you’ve plugged in your little lamps. Calmer, you start folding clothes to put into dresser drawers. At one point you wander out of your room to get some water and you freeze in your bedroom doorway, struck by how lonely it feels. 

The rest of the apartment is lit only by the yellow glow coming from your bedroom, plus the thin, white light that filters in from the streetlight below the living room windows. You hurry into the kitchen and turn on the light over the sink, which vanishes some of the bad feeling for you. You pour your glass of water and lean heavily on the counter, looking out at your empty living room, and the dark doorway of Namjoon’s untouched room. You wish Taehyung had come back over, or that some of your university friends had moved back into the area sooner.

You rinse your glass and head back into your room, ready to distract yourself with more unpacking until you’re tired enough to sleep.

Sunday September 30

Bumps and crashes wake you in the morning. It takes you a few minutes to figure out where you are - ah, the cloud bed, in your new room. The morning sunlight is strong; apparently the windows on the front of the apartment face the east. You make a mental note to shop for some good blackout curtains, and check your phone. Not much waiting for you - Lin texted around 1 am asking if you got settled okay, probably while she was on a quick break. You answer her, check your socials, and then lay back, just looking around. 

You got a lot done yesterday, but you still have more unpacking to do. It also occurs to you that not only is there no coffee waiting for you in the kitchen, there’s no food of any kind in the whole place, unless you count your container of leftover takeout from last night. 

You shower and get dressed, figuring it's best to stay out of the way - you can hear the grunts and huffs and loud bumps that indicate Namjoon’s got some friends helping him move things in. But eventually, the growling in your stomach and your body’s clamoring for caffeine send you out into the living room.

The low entertainment center is in place across the room from you, a flatscreen tv situated on top. There are now two stools tucked beneath the breakfast bar in the kitchen, and a pretty, wooden coffee table sits in the center of the living room.

There’s a guy on the floor surrounded by furniture pieces, a screwdriver, and a packet of instructions in his hands. You can hear a lot of shouting, bumping, and cursing floating in from the stairwell down the hall. 

“Hey,” the guy on the floor says. “You’re Y/N? I’m Namjoon’s friend, Yoongi.”

“Hi,” you say, a little bewildered. “What are you… building?”

He sighs, squinting at the paper in his hand. “It’s supposed to be a bookshelf. Eventually.”

You’re about to respond to this when the noise from outside the open door gets infinitely louder. You see Namjoon’s expansive back as he shuffles backwards through the doorway, one end of a faded, grey couch in his hands. 

“Okay, you have to turn,” he coaches whoever is on the other side.

The couch makes it through the door, and you’re surprised to see that you know the other person carrying the couch. He’s one of Taehyung’s best friends, and you’ve hung out together as a group plenty of times over the last three years.

“JayKay!” you call happily. “Welcome to my house!”

He laughs, nose scrunching with delight. “Y/N,” he crows. “Where should I put the couch?”

“Across from the tv,” Namjoon answers for you, sounding a little breathless. They shuffle through the room, and you notice for the first time that they’ve already put the rug in place, covering most of the warped, wooden floor of the living room. The couch settles over top of it, and Namjoon slides the coffee table to a more centered position.

One more guy comes through your doorway, carrying a nightstand and a lamp. He’s got quite possibly the widest shoulders you’ve ever seen. He disappears into Namjoon’s bedroom, and you hear the quiet thump as he sets the nightstand down in there.

“Wow,” you say. “You’ve got a whole moving crew.”

“Notice who’s not here helping,” Jungkook grumbles.

You smile to yourself. If you know him at all, you’ll guess Taehyung isn’t even out of bed yet. 

“In his defense,” you say, and Jungkook snorts, as if it’s so typical that you’d defend Taehyung, which… it might be, “he did a lot for me yesterday. We had his car packed with my stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook mutters and turns to - presumably - get more stuff from downstairs.

“You have a lot left?” you ask Namjoon, who seems to be catching his breath for a minute, perched on the arm of the couch. “I’d offer to help, but I was just about to go get groceries - there’s very literally no food here.”

“We’re about done with the heavier stuff,” he says, looking at the open door, like he’ll find an inventory there that he can reference. “But still plenty of assembling left.”

“Hooray,” Yoongi deadpans from the floor, holding the instruction packet up in the air like a different angle will help him decipher the directions.

You find your little foldable cart and make your way to the grocery store a few blocks away. By the time you’re done scouring the aisles, you’ve loaded the cart to the top and still have to carry some of the bags. But at least now you’ll have food to eat, things to drink besides tap water. 

Getting up the stairs with your groceries sucks, but you make it, panting like crazy as you finally unlock the front door and let yourself in.

You’re greeted with silence; it’s clear the guys are all gone. The living room looks completely different than twenty-four hours ago. The couch and table look great, and it seems like Yoongi’s bookshelf is mostly complete - it’s upright, just missing a few shelves near the top. You set the groceries down in the kitchen next to three unopened boxes - it seems like Namjoon’s gameplan was the same as yours yesterday: get the boxes into the appropriate rooms, do the rest later. 

You peek into his bedroom - he’s left the door all the way open, which feels nice, like he trusts you, and you make a mental note that you should probably do the same. You notice that it looks like the furniture is all in place there, too. It doesn’t differ much from yours, actually. The bedframe is put together, the boxspring and mattress leaning against the far wall. He’s also got a tall chest of drawers, a wicker hamper, and in the corner, a desk. Namjoon’s furniture is a lot more modern looking than yours, sleek and matching. You bet he didn’t get half of his from the thrift store. 

You put the groceries away and make yourself a small lunch, eating it on the couch in the quiet of the apartment. You’ve got about twenty-four hours to go until there’s wifi and you can stream shows when you’re home alone. You’re just cleaning up your lunch when you hear a key in the lock, and then the cacophony of boys’ voices as they reenter the apartment. 

“-far superior, I’m telling you,” Jungkook is saying emphatically. The smell of greasy burgers and fries hits you in the kitchen along with the sound of his voice.

“I hear what you’re saying, and I respect your opinion,” a flat voice responds that you think might belong to Yoongi. “It’s just that you’re wrong.”

“Hey,” Namjoon says, noticing you standing in the kitchen. The guys pass through, heading into the living room, Jungkook already digging in the bag. They surround the coffee table, handing out burgers and fries, filling the room with delicious smells and noisy chatter.

You take this opportunity to head back into your room, sitting on your bedroom floor and opening one of your boxes of books, starting to put them on the small shelf beneath your window. You pop in your airpods and turn on music, losing yourself in the monotonous movement of digging out a new book, then turning to place it on the shelf. Rinse, and repeat.

When you finish, you move into your closet. You put your little wire shoe rack back together and locate your box of shoes, lining them up neatly. Then, you tackle another garbage bag full of clothes that go on hangers, flapping each shirt or dress to relieve it of wrinkles before hanging it up. After that, you find a box of miscellaneous dresser items - jewelry boxes, perfume bottles, headbands - and put those where you want them, too.

By the time you decide you need to sit down and take a break, it’s nearly evening, the light outside reaching that golden hour. You really do love the natural lighting in this place. 

You take out your airpods and set them to charge, listening carefully. You’ve had your bedroom door open this whole time, but the guys had left you alone and you’d minded your own business. Now, the apartment is filled with silence again. They must be gone.

You text Taehyung for the first time that day, which strikes you as weird. He must have been busy today, too. It’s odd for you two to make it until almost dinner without speaking.

“Dinner?” you text, and then wander out into the living room. 

“Hey,” a voice says from near the floor, and you practically leap out of your skin. You startle so violently that your phone slips from your hands and clatters to the floor.

“Holy crap,” you breathe when you realize Namjoon is sitting on the floor next to his newly assembled bookshelf, an open box of books before him. He seems to be sorting them into piles before putting any on the shelf.

“Sorry,” he says, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to--”

“No, you’re fine,” you assure him. “I’m just… a jumpy person. You’ll get used to it.”

You watch him sort books for a minute, then eye your own empty bookshelf, your boxes still closed on the ground next to it. You decide if it’s Bookshelf Hours, you might as well, right? You set your phone on the coffee table and settle in, opening your first box and starting to place books on the bottommost shelf.

“So,” you say, because it feels weird to be sitting four feet from your new roommate and not speaking, “Taehyung said you’re a grad student at the university?”

Namjoon nods wordlessly, eyes on the books he’s sorting. “Yep,” he says finally. “And you’re a senior?”

“Mhm,” you confirm. 

After that scintillating conversation, you both lapse into silence as you work. You continue like that for some time - long enough to reach the middle shelf - before you realize you hear your phone buzzing on the table. You stretch to reach for it, missing how Namjoon glances sideways at you, at how an inch of your stomach is revealed as you lean over. 

“Hi,” you say, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Took you long enough to answer,” Taehyung gripes.

“Sorry,” you say. “We were putting books away.”

Taehyung’s silence is just one beat too long. “We, huh?”

You laugh, once. “I mean? That’s what each of us is doing? So? Yeah?” From his spot a few feet away, Namjoon glances over his shoulder, frowning slightly.

“Anyway,” you say, “dinner? Do you want to come over?” 

“Yes,” he says decisively. “Order us something and I’ll head over?”

“Sure,” you say, already hanging up. You don’t need to ask what he wants; no matter where you order from, you know what he likes. 

“Do you want to order with us?” you ask Namjoon mildly as you scroll through the local delivery app. “I was thinking pizza.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says slowly, like he was deep in thought and has to process what you’d said to him. “That would be nice. Thanks.”

The place you’d order from back when you lived in the dorms is actually closer to this apartment than campus, which is the most beautiful, serendipitous thing that’s ever happened in your life. You place the order for delivery and continue putting your books away. Once all the books are on shelves, you’re essentially done - finally, after two days - unpacking. 

This gives you exactly one whole day to relax before you have to start going to classes again.

Taehyung arrives before the pizza, knocking on the door in a silly rhythm. You pound back on your side of the door, echoing his rhythm, before opening it, greeting him with a big smile. You’d missed him; of course you had.

“Wow,” he says, genuinely impressed, as he peers around you. “It looks so much different in here.”

“Right?” you ask, filled with joy. Taehyung pokes his head into the kitchen, which is arguably the least “ready” room, as aside from putting your things into drawers and cupboards, neither you nor Namjoon had really done much to it. No hand-towels hanging by the sink, no magnets on the fridge, even the counters were empty, save for the two sets of keys resting there. Taehyung adds his own to the key pile and moves into the living room, which is much more impressive.

“Hey, man,” Namjoon says from the floor. It seems like he’s done sorting his books into piles and has started actually putting them on shelves now. “Looks good, right?”

“It does,” Taehyung answers from the doorway of Namjoon’s room, where he's peeking nosily. “The guys helped you?”

“Everyone except you and Jimin,” Namjoon says innocently. 

Taehyung smiles guiltily. “I helped Y/N the entire day before, just the two of us,” he argues. “And what about Hobi? He’s on--”

“--on vacation with his parents,” Namjoon finishes agreeably, “so he’s off the hook. Where was Jimin?”

“Where do you think Jimin was?” Taehyung scoffs, reaching down and touching the rug absently.

“Sleeping,” you and Namjoon say at the same time, both of your voices wry. You smile at him, and he looks away. 

The pizza arrives and you all sit around the coffee table to eat. Conversation flows better with Taehyung in the mix; he talks so much, it almost doesn’t matter if anyone else does. 

“I was thinking of making a list of things we need for the apartment that wouldn’t necessarily belong to either of us - cleaning supplies, stuff like that,” Namjoon says to you. “I thought I could buy it and we could split the cost?”

“Buy the cheap stuff,” Taehyung advises. “Y/N’s summer money is gonna go fast, especially the way she orders out instead of cooking.”

“Thank you, Taehyung,” you say flatly, shooting him a look. “I start work in like two days. I can handle it.”

After the pizza’s done, Namjoon goes back to working on his bookshelf, obviously wanting to clear the floorspace of his book piles sooner rather than later. You and Taehyung sprawl across the couch opposite each other, his feet resting near your elbow, both of you on your phones. 

You stay like that until nearly midnight, talking occasionally but mostly just happily coexisting in your own little bubbles. At some point, Namjoon finishes the bookshelf and wanders into his bedroom, pausing to look at you two on the couch before disappearing. He pushes his door almost shut, leaving it open a few inches. You hear the subtle sounds of music playing from behind the door, but not loud enough to discern what it is. 

Taehyung hugs you before leaving, and you snuggle into the embrace, body exhausted from the moving process. He rests his chin on top of your head, swaying you around a little bit. 

“Thanks for helping me,” you murmur into his chest. Sometimes the only time you can get Taehyung to be serious for a conversation is when you’re like this; in each other’s arms, your walls come down - in his case, deflecting with humor and sarcasm, brushing off everything like it’s a big joke. In yours, saying what you really mean, and not a more delicate version of it.

“You’re welcome,” he answers, squeezing you a little. “I’m glad everything worked out. It really does look good in here. And I think you guys will get along.” 

Once he leaves, you deadbolt the front door and head to the kitchen to wash the plates and cups you’d used for pizza. Behind you, you hear the squeak of door hinges, and Namjoon pads into the kitchen behind you. He pauses, scanning the cupboards.

“I don’t remember which one I put my cups in,” he laughs a little, and then starts opening each one until he finds what he needs. Once he has a glass, he rummages in the fridge, taking out a juice carton and filling his glass about halfway. You finish washing the last plate and turn the water off, rummaging through a drawer for a dish towel to dry everything.  

“So…” Namjoon says between sips of juice. “You two are pretty close, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say, shrugging easily. “He’s my best friend.”

Namjoon hums, nods, purses his lips thoughtfully. If you knew him better, you’d push - ask him what that face means, or why he’d asked in the first place. 

But, you don’t need to. You know already. You’re used to being interrogated by others about your relationship with Taehyung. Sometimes people are trying to see if you’re a threat in their quest to worm their way into Taehyung’s heart (or pants) - and in your own weird way, you kind of are, at least for the former. 

Taehyung definitely sleeps around, but he’s surprisingly tight-lipped with you about it. You’re not sure if he’s sparing you, or he’s actually just a gentleman. Could go either way. But when Taehyung considers dating someone - rare, to say the least - he always has you vet them first. You never like any of them, surprise surprise. 

You’re used to girls approaching you in bathrooms, sometimes aggressively, sometimes meekly, to ask if Taehyung’s your boyfriend. You’ve had girls come apologize, saying they “didn’t know about you”. Once you’d had a girl nearly shove you down a staircase for talking to “her man”, but luckily, said man was walking next to you and helped shut the whole thing down. (You two had had a serious talk after that one about communicating with his partners about his relationship status. Things have never gone that far again, to date.)

Less frequently, you’ll get asked about Taehyung by guys who are interested in you, who are trying to figure out how much of a lost cause it is. That one’s a little trickier. How do you tell the cute guy at the coffee shop that no, you’re not dating Taehyung, but you are secretly so in love with him that it really isn’t worth their time? 

Anyway, usually you just tell guys that you’re not dating Taehyung but that you’re not interested in dating anyone. It usually does the trick. It’s not that far from the truth, either.

That leaves the last category of people who ask about you two, and this is where you feel Namjoon falls: the people who watch your weird, boundary-pushing friendship and are just genuinely curious how it could possibly work. 

And you get it, you really do. You know how this looks from the outside. Hell, you’re sure that from the outside it’s fairly obvious how gone you are for him. Is it just as obvious to the outside that he sees you more like a sister than anything datable? 

Probably.

You’ve had friends ask you what keeps you around. You always say the same thing - regardless of your feelings for him, he’s also your absolute best friend.

Your friendship is precious to you, sacred. It sometimes feels like the only thing you have, in a life where you generally don’t have much. Your family is Lin - that’s it, end of the road. Your girlfriends are nice, but Penny was the closest you had and she’s across the country now. You only have Taehyung. And what you have with him, as special as it is, it’s also precarious. 

If you lose him, it isn’t just that you’ll lose him - and trust, that would be devastating - it’s also that you would be deeply alone. 

Finished with the dishes, you bid Namjoon goodnight and head back into your room for the night, planning to change into pajamas and wait for Taehyung to text you that he made it home safely, wait for Taehyung to text you goodnight. Namjoon murmurs goodnight, but you feel his calculating gaze on your back until you close your door softly behind you.

Thank you so much for reading! I started writing this in August, it feels amazing to finally postttttt. Please consider some type of feedback - I'd love to hear anything you want to share! Section II will post on Friday, January 27th - hope to see you there!

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL

May 2021 Wk 3

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs.

It’s a cray cray Friday when Vietnam gets its eng subs up before GMMTV Thailand. What alter-reality are we in? Well, the Vietnamese offerings are better right now anyway. (Oooo, feel that burn.) 

Ongoing Series - Thai

Top Secret Together Ep 2 - pulping it up in the best possible way. Sure sound and production values are pants, and in classic Thai fashion the editing in post is exacerbating (rather than fixing) pacing issues, but it’s still CUTE AF. I don’t even mind the added university storyline, because they’ve got good chemistry (and a confident gay fresher after a panicked gay hazer is an old favorite... what can I say, SOTUS was my first love). We aren’t spending too much time with any one couple, so it’s weighted a lot better than Brothers was, but also character development is slow. 

Siew Sum Noi Ep 2 - Unfortunately, it’s just too hard to find, plus no subs. I’m dropping it in the hopes it comes back on my radar some day. 

Y-Destiny Ep 8 - (Thurs) It’s rough having a ghost boyfriend, half your friends are scared, the other half think you’re crazy, and kissing shortens your lifespan. This was a cute couple even if I wasn’t wild about the surrounding story. 

Close Friend Ep 5: (Dear My Star/JimmyTommy) - about high school penpals. It had to rely entirely on voice over work as the actors only meet face to face at the end. It’s a good thing they are appealing screen presences on their own, with good vocal control. It’s hard to imagine any other BL pair carrying this kinda plot. It’s by far my favorite of the series so far, and I’m not even a big JimmyTommy fan. 

Fish Upon The Sky Ep 7 - no subs. Do we care? Not really. Because we have... 

Nitiman Ep 3 - currently my favorite out of Thailand. It’s the university Thai BL i’ve been waiting for since... when was the last good one? My Engineer? Yowza. Anyway we got: head on my shoulder, baby is a floppy drunk (but still wants to be in control), proximity alert, boyfriend’s closet, seme gets seriously jelly, and a cute twist on feeding him. There’s something fun and complex about Jin’s character. He’s not a panicked bi. He knows exactly what’s going on, he just hasn’t decided if he wants Bb or not. He clearly enjoys being looked after, the compliments, and the attention, but he’s not sure if he’s going to like what happens if he gives in. I like that twist on the usual tsundere uke archetype a lot, cautious rather than willfully obtuse or freaked out. We can see Jin realizing in stages: I like this person, I like that they like me, I like the romantic attentiveness. But in the background is... do I actually want to f*k him? It’s a dynamic we don’t often see on BL. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

HIStory 4: Close To You (Taiwan) Ep 10 fin - the most ridiculous show using BLs worst tropes in a sort of weird smoothie of bitter greens and too ripe banana. The ending was the sappiest cheesiest thing ever, like cheese syrup tapped from the cheese tree. So of course I loved it, but I’m pretty sure I giggled through all the bits meant to be profound. Because, in the end, to tolerate this show at all, you just can’t take ANY of it seriously. RECOMMENDED (with some SERIOUS reservations and trigger warnings.) Full review here. 

Be Loved in House: I Do (Taiwan) Ep 1-2 - I don’t mind a damaged seme character but this one is a bit weird for me. Like creepy Cheese in the Trap level weird. On the bright side, the story has given our tsundere uke good motivation for his angst and great existing friendships, loyalty, and likability. Plus I’m invested in the cafe owner/innocent puppy side dishes. So if it’s only the seme character I’m not jiving with, and he’s the most established actor, it should all turn out fine. I believe in you, Taiwanese BL. 

Papa & Daddy (Taiwan) Ep 6 fin - speaking of belief. This such a good show but they gave us a cliffhanger ending. Now we must hope against hope for season two. That’s never guaranteed with Taiwan tho. So, I’m docking a few points and saying, RECOMMENDED so long as you realize it’s a cliffhanger. 

Love is Science? (Taiwan) Ep 1-9 (BL subplot) - this is a good het romance, but the fact that the BL subplot is a beautifully acted disaster bi + confident gay means you’re hearing about it whether you want to or not. Plus they just added in some GL! Come on! I gotta support Taiwan normalizing queer to this extent. They are fighting the good fight and if I also have to watch a career lady and her much younger softest straight boi get it on, too? Twist my arm with that service sub subtext. Go on Taiwan, TWIST IT. It’s on Viki. Join the revolution.   * Incidentally if you actually like the D/s het dynamic of this show, I highly recommend Japanese Kimi wa Petto - career woman keeps a hot young dancer boy as a pet. Oh yes, an actual pet, that IS the pitch. Never doubt Japan when kink is on the line. It’s also on Viki. Go get your kink on, thank me later. (If it helps: That was not a request.)  

Most Peaceful Place 2 (Vietnam) Ep 2 (AKA 5) - love triangles aren’t my thing, but if you’re gonna do it short form, by all means bring in the lead’s other BL pairing so the chemistry is on point. Now I've no idea who I want him to end up with. Can’t they just be in a poly triad? 

My Lascivious Boss (Vietnam) Ep 7 - I’m still enjoying it a lot. It’s still unabashedly queer and the tension is ramping up. We now have secret identity, blackmail, femme fatale, faen fatale, and incoming seme confrontation. Best of all, the series is still airing, which makes it longer than any other Vietnamese BL I’ve seen (aside from Tein Bromance - which is just too weird to count). 

Gossip - Thai BL 

SEVEN PROJECT TEASERS

No one is entirely sure what Studio Wabi Sabi’s Seven Project/7Project will entail. 

It might be like Close Friend (1 episode per couple, no linking), 

or Y-Destiny (2 episodes per couple, loosely linked), 

or The En of Love (4 episodes per couple, linked but independent consecutive stories). 

They’re giving the couple’s arcs separate titles. So each one would be what? Seven Project: Once Upon a Time or the like? We’re in Taiwanese title territory people and NO ONE WANTS TO GO THERE. Anygay... 

Once Upon a Time is the BounPrem (og UWMA) anchor story, and seems to be the most dramatic and likely saddest. These two can handle most of what’s thrown at them at this juncture, so it should be good. 

Vs Love is a BoomPeak (og Make it Right) university vehicle. Since I thought Boom was done with our nonsense, I couldn’t be more thrilled and surprised this pair is doing another show together. I don’t think either of them are the greatest actors but I find Peak very endearing and Boom charismatic on screen, so I’ll watch. 

Would You be My Love is the hotly anticipated SantaEarth launch. They’re a (cultivated) IRL ship and Earth is an established BL actor. They have great chemistry and high energy so this could be lots of fun. 

We are also getting a GL from this series from established BL actresses Samantha and Pineare. Nothing teased yet on that, but I’m looking forward to this installment the most. Also curious to see how the ladies handle the branding and promo side, not to mention the culture. (Thailand variety shows gonna force *girls* to play the Pepero game?) 

Secret Crush on You upcoming Thai BL with no release date, co-produced by and featuring (but NOT staring) Saint and directed by Cheewin (sigh) with all fresh faces. (Previously known as Stalker the series.) It looks like pure pulp and I’m not wild about the plot but could be better than expected as it’s adapted from a novel. Cheewin is an okay director when he has an actual story to follow. 

Don’t Say No the series. Coming from the producers of TharnType this is the JaFirst vehicle many have been waiting for. Friends to lovers + a good boy/bad boy pairing on a sports romance foundation. It’s basketball so they tapped Meen as well (he’s semi-pro). The bad news? You get one guess as to who is writing the darn thing? Yep it’s MAME. So, ya know, expect some slam dunk kidnapping, a light dribbling of rape, and me turning into a basketcase. AKA... 

Will I have to live blog this series in order to survive it? That seems to be the only way I can. So probably. Which means the bad sports puns will continue. Look, if I’m suffering, SO ARE YOU! 

Rumors of a new YinWar vehicle The Best Story (mini series) coming in July. Also rumors that their previously announced Love Mechanics (full length series) has either been delayed, is facing money issues, or is moving studios, or all three. 

Breaking News 

DELAYED (I’m talking these three off the watch list until we get new airing dates) 

Love Area’s release was pushed out but it got a trailer. 

Golden Blood was supposed to drop Weds but comments in MDL report that it is delayed due to C19.  

Love’s Outlet (Taiwan) is supposed to have started a 50 episode run (only 3-5 min each, what utter nonsense). Sadly, this delay is due to a surge in cases in Taiwan which was doing so well, but also doesn’t have many inoculations. 

Bad Buddy has started workshopping at GMMTV actual. 

Kang Insoo’s BTS for Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding is SO FLIPPING CUTE. You have to watch it. Trust me, I don’t rec behind the scenes stuff often. 

Next Week Looks Like This: 

Some shows may be listed later than actual air date for International accessibility reasons.

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

[atherix0]

hii o/ i came here to gush about your new mumscarian series because i just read iit and ??? it's AMAZING

first of all, you're insane (affectionate) for writing another long ass work right after the previous one, like it's actually so impressive. i love your writing so much btw i think it deserves all the praise in the world<3

the wordbuilding is so fucking good, i'm a sucker for all fantasy aus and i LOVE when the authors expand on their world and add their own little things to it like yes girl give me all the fantasy lore of your silly little world. it's just so interesting to read and i want to know more about it :D

ALSO THE CHARACTERIZATION OF SCAR…. i'm obsessed with him. i need to put your scar in a little box and study him. he's such a cool character, the fact that he pushes people away on purpose makes me sad, my boy deserves so much love but he doesn't think he does:( and i love the fact that grian just decided to befriend him as a challenge, he really saw a wild and deranged sorcerer and started domesticizing him. scar deserves a little kindness, as a treat. and their little conversations through the glyph made me so happy. also scar talking about how the glyphs work made me think that one day something will happen that will make scar dismiss his glyph and grian will think that he died or something

mumbo and grian's relationship is sooo cute, i love them a lot. grian just decided to befriend all the wild and lonely creatures out there, as he should. i'm also really curious about scar's relationship with mumbo, it's obvious that scar actually cares about mumbo but for some reason doesn't want or thinks he should have his feelings reciprocated…. i wonder what backstory do they have bc surely theres a lot to unpack throughout the seven years of knowijg each other

okay sorry for the longish ask but i had to talk about them bc brainrot<3 i love your works and i'm looking forward to seeing more of this series :D

AAAAA thank you so much <3 I'm really enjoying writing it, it's living in my head rent free right now <3 (also it's 3 AM here and I was just writing more scenes so uhh hahaa <3)

HHH thank you so much, that means the world to me <3 Long works are so fun to write, it lets me explore everything I want to explore and gives me time to tie up loose ends <3 I will admit I had not expected this one to be so long bUT I am happy to be making it even longer because there is... a LOT of ground to cover <3

Worldbuilding is one of the most fun things to write IMHO, I love it so much <3 I try to be subtle with it so as to not like infodump about the world I'm weaving but ya know <3 Sometimes I just gotta talk about it jhgfdjkfd

THIS VERSION OF SCAR HAS TAKEN OVER MY LIFE. I'mma call him Midnight!Scar since all the parts so far are named Midnight [word], but I started writing this and he absolutely took over. He's a feral thing and you haven't even seen half of how feral he can be <3 After all, you haven't even seen him in action yet... hehe~ There are things I'm quietly hinting about Scar that Grian isn't able to just see like he can pick up on Scar's manipulation, so I hope that turns out to be exciting <3 But Scar's reasons are... complicated at best and won't be fully explored immediately, but more like... lightly uncovered throughout the story, because his story has layers on top of layers. Also Scar Angst is my life fuel and I shall, in fact, delight in him suffering before he gets that happy ending. And oh yes- the glyph's being explained is, in fact... foreshadowing. Foreshadowing to what, I won't say, buuuuuut.... :) And also yes, Grian would absolutely befriend the guy who just blatantly wants him to hate him, just like "oh he's a little messed up, friend now" hhh

Gods yes they're so sweet together, like for Grian he saw Mumbo and it's Instant Crush and Mumbo is like Interest Piqued and they're so soft I love them <3 Grian is ultimately a gremlin tho so once they're established and comfy he's gonna be an absolute menace ahaha

YEAH SO ABOUT MUMBO AND SCAR'S BACKGROUND, that is exactly why I've chosen to post the story the way I'm doing it- because Third Person Limited (my favourite perspective to write from tbh) from Grian's POV means we lose every single private conversation between them, and my GOD I absolutely need to explore that deep dive because it is so important for them to Talk About It because Grian actually isn't there for a lot of it (because it's Scar and Mumbo's personal past together, so) and in the original doc, which is 100% from Grian's POV, there is a huge jump from them being hostile to being friends and it's jarring, so yeah........ buuuut I will give a little spoiler in that Scar knows a lot more about Mumbo than Mumbo knows he does, which might play a bit into why Scar cares so much. Also I want to explore/focus on them more than the way I originally wrote the story allowed since the Mumbo/Scar part of the Mumscarian is the slowburn so uhh yeah I feel like giving them the attention they deserve is super important <3

(also it's nice to post it as a series rather than a chaptered fic cuz this means I can go back and write scenes and order them chronologically on the list <3)

NO APOLOGIES THANK YOU SO MUCH this made my night honestly <3 Thank you so much! I'll be posting another part soon~ I hope my response actually makes sense because it's 3 AM and I was so happy to get this that I had to answer ASAP, thank you for sending this in! <3

[afterartist]

It’s been four weeks since The Chain got their latest member, surely Hylia wouldn’t just give them another after a month of silence. Right? At least, she wouldn’t dump them in the middle of a storm in an unknown Hyrule that seems to stretch forever with no civilianisation in sight. Right? Legends general dislike of Hylia grows as his hair gets drenched. Chain meets Wild fic but with a twist —- —- -— Ohhhhhh yeah, it’s Fanfic time

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

fic writer review

thanks to @delphiniumblooms for tagging me!!! :D

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

66 posted and one lonely little draft that's probably never gonna get finished

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

102,532

3. How many fandoms have you written for?

including things i've multiple-tagged for related fandoms, 24. but like i said, a lot of that is because of interconnected/related fandoms

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

tell me more than just the scars i've known - my first Sylki fic that i wrote while extremely frustrated by lack of cell service, it's not my favorite thing i've written but listen: sometimes a girl's just gotta write some whump, ok?

Dream Again (When One's Left Behind) - the one and only Tangled: The Series fic i've ever written. Varian angst and platonic h/c with one of the only alternating POVs i've ever successfully written.

for the bad decisions that we made - the Sylki fic i posted less than two days ago (writing for big fandoms is wild, guys); yet another take on an s2 reunion but this time featuring heart-to-hearts, hugs, and one of my favorite lines of prose i've ever written

Learn Me Right - Newsies sickfic that i'm not incredibly proud of, but it's where i started writing my favorite minor character, so it's cool.

We Are Broken - one of my other Newsies fics, bc yeah i had a phase back in January, and i saw some Wormsies post that gave me an idea.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

YES. i always reply to comments just bc i love talking to people, and i also love talking about my fics at any opportunity. also bc i know how nice it is to leave an author a comment and get a reply later on, it's just such a great feeling so i like to be that person :)

6. A fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

eurrgghh probably either Dust & Ashes or we're gonna sing it again and again, bc they ended with MCD, but i really kind of hate both of them in retrospect because i was trying to write them to be canon compliant, but i wasn't familiar enough with canon and they're just... very very off

7. Do you write crossovers?

nope, not unless you count different eras and contexts of Doctor Who stuff as crossover

8. Ever received hate on a fic?

nope again, AO3 culture is very nice and i really love it

9, Do you write smut?

biggest NOPE yet, i don't write it or read it. just.... n o p e.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no

11. Ever had a fic translated?

again, no. but that would be really heckin cool if one of my fics ever did get translated!!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic?

i'm saying "no" a whole lot, wow... but yeah, no i haven't. i've considered co-writing something with my best friend, but we've never gotten around to it

13. All time fav ship?

i... cannot pick one tbh. it changes with my hyperfixation. right now i have Sylki brainrot lol

14. WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

probably my Gallifrey/DWEU buddy cop au?? i love it, it's my brainchild, but yeah :/

15. Writing strengths?

i've been told that i'm really good at packing a lot of emotion and meta into very short fics, and i'm pretty proud of that tbh

16. Writing weaknesses?

i suck at plot and dialogue can sometimes drive me nuts. i think my biggest weakness as i perceive it is that i find it hard to *not* make things in fics go very fast? like i write everything out that i want in a fic but it's still incredibly short and i worry that it feels rushed, even though other people don't usually think that.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

uh... the only language other than English that i know is Koine Greek (as in, the specific Greek that the Bible's New Testament was oroginally written in) and it's a dead language, sooooo.......

18. First fandom you wrote for?

Big Finish Doctor Who! (tho tbh i think back when i was 11/12 i wrote some random self-insert stuff for whatever little fandoms i was in back then 😅)

19. What’s your fav fic you’ve written so far?

ohhh i can't choose? usually i'm just most partial to whatever i've most recently written, which right now is for the bad decisions that we made. i think one of my Gallifrey fics, In The Drift, is definitely high on my list of favorites though.

here's my AO3 for anyone who might like to take a look!

tagging @fortes-fortuna-iogurtum and @picnokinesis if either of you want to do this, and anyone else who sees it if you want. :D

[saintobio]

HWJSJEJDQHHQ I'M A MESS RN 😭 MAI MY BELOVED CAMEO & toji has my heart already plsss imagine if mc decided to push thru with the clothing line bc of toji and mai's undying support that would be so cute!!! i hope we could see them more because mc deserves to be surrounded by nice and genuine people too 😌 ps: fawk u gojo 😋💓

Anonymous said

I'm so engrossed in this fic that I genuinely felt the sheer happiness when Toji wanted to talk more about our interests. I kept on thinking that there might be some ulterior motive that's leading the convo but as soon as he widened his eyes and smiled when we shot him w that "forgot you were pushing 40" just made me feel so comforted idek 😭 until a fucking grumpy furby came in and ruined it all 😭 I love how we did that "u see this fucking face? He's satan :D" with gojo though, it felt good ⛈

Anonymous said

toji i am in love with you ‼️ yn leave gojo pls (for now)🙏 and now we seeing some of gojo’s inner turmoil too 👀 he tryna ignore how he starting to feel

just to let you know you’re literally my favorite author on this app bc my lord the amount of DEVELOPMENT we’ve already seen in five chapters, and the way every single character has so much depth. please never stop writing 😭 please take care of yourself too 🙏 you gotta publish a book or something and you can’t do that if you don’t take time for yourself ‼️ thank you for all your efforts and incredible talent 🥰

Anonymous said

Ok so I’m 99% sure Y/N is gonna die at the end and this makes me so sad ):

After this chapter I just want her to get closer to Toji and get the happy ever after she deserves with him and they raise Megumi together. Periodt.

Anonymous said

Yooo this was wild. I’m all for Y/N just packing it up and being w/ Toji. He’s a fine ass dilf who cares about her and her well-being beyond her money and status. But I think that it’s really funny that Sera seems to focus only on what Gojo can do for her in terms of the materialistic sense rather than emotional. So far, he’s only been seen giving her things rather than true affection (Although that could just be because we don’t see both of their POVs that often). Not to mention the fact that Gojo doesn’t seem to love her enough to give up his money and status for her 🙃. Anyway, Gojo and his hoeish ass can go be with his beloved Sera. At this point, I’m shipping Y/N x Toji until further notice.

Anonymous said

ZENIN TOJI COME TAKE YN AWAY TO VENICE'S WEDDING!!!!!!!! DAMN TOJI I LOVE YOU WTF😭🖐️ I LOVE AI-SAN MORE THO😻 LET'S GO RUN AWAY WITH OUR BLESSINGS NAMED MEGUMI, PAPI🧚‍♀️✨ LIVE THAT SOFT DOMESTIC LIFE YOU ALL DESERVE!!!😘🥰🧚‍♀️✨

also.... YN seemed to be... Sick.....

- 🌸anon

Anonymous said

AAAAAAAAAAAAA GODDAMNIT yn does NOT deserve to be treated like this 😭😭 i’m glad she found a friend in Toji, but i’m begging you to give Yn more friends she can rely on 😭😭

Anonymous said

I love love love this series, your writing is beautiful I am in tears.

All I want is for YN to stop caring and Gojo to finally notice exactly how great she is, like everyone else sees.

BUT I hope it’ll be too late because she will already be Tojis. YN will be designing her wedding dress and she will be Megumis new step mom, and she’ll finally be loved softly. Her dad sucks, fuck his business.

@seashellmichellee said

ngl if I were y/n I’d fucking leave Gojo for Toji WLDJAK like???? I stan a gentleman and someone who genuinely cares 😫

Anonymous said

another great but heartbreaking update :”) canon toji is a lil uhh sus BUT SN!Toji is a sweetheart !! Imagine yn discovering what true love is really like w toji :(( he appreciates n loves her sm that he supports her dreams of being a fashion designer !! Toji eases her insecurities AND IS AN AFTERCARE KING, yn builds her own brand outside of her family while gojo and sera end up in the streets where they belong <33 in all honesty we’re in for more angst before any fluff bc you’re the author LOL

Anonymous said

the way toji & y/n need to get together... gojo gotta look at them and be like oh fuck i messed up 💔 anyways toji+mc supremacy <3 thank you for putting it in my fav character! the way you wrote toji & mc’s interactions was SO good and so soft! you can tell toji warmed up to mc and was willing to literally protect her... he could cherish her so much better than gojo ever could 😭😭😭 can’t wait for the next chapter! you always keep us on our toes ILY for that 💗

i am loving the toji brainrot you guys !! i’m glad you liked his introduction <33 i also enjoyed writing the zen’ins i just love them sm ?? :’) i hope toji lessened the angst for this chapter bc we are all fuming at gojo until further notice 😤

[peaches-writes]

a hundred days of seo - of all places (pt. 1)

member: changbin but this part is dedicated to besties hyunlix bc i said so  wc: 1.2k genre: fluff, angst, enemies to lovers au, roommates to lovers au, childhood friends to lovers au, neighbor au, college au, eventual friends to lovers au, slow burn, some besties seunghyunlix action hehe chapter warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol note: anon! the roommates part comes later pinky promise!

readers choose the adventure game! mechanics | requests checklist & series masterlist 

parts: prologue | part 2 (coming soon!) 

“If you guys really love me—” You groan exaggeratedly with furrowed brows, climbing up your wonkiest living room chair with a broom in your hand and violently tapping the ceiling with its handle end. In front of you, your two best friends are quick to approach closer with their hands outstretched in your direction in surprise and worry—Hyunjin, in particular, going as far as letting out a dramatic cry for you to come down which you simply ignore in your annoyance. “If you idiots care about my well-being, you wouldn’t go to this stupid party or, better yet, you would’ve made him take it somewhere else in the first place!” 

“But it’s Changbin’s birthday! As much as you’re our friend, he’s also our friend.” Felix pouts, cautiously taking two more steps closer to you and placing his hands around the chair’s head rest to steady you. “And it’s not that wild this time, just close friends!”

You fiercely glare down at the younger boy, making him gulp and flinch. Gesturing up to your ceiling and the muffled rock music, you then ask, “This is ‘just close friends’? Whatever, I don’t care! I need to study in peace and this isn’t helping me at all!” You protest, hitting the ceiling a few more times for good measure before jumping down the chair. Felix jumps as well and tightens his grip on the chair, scolding you under his breath for being reckless while Hyunjin finally beelines closer to your side and asks you if you’re okay. “Ya, Hwang Hyunjin, don’t you need to study too? We’re in the same Lit class!” 

“We’ve been studying the whole day, dumbass. We’ve literally studied the whole syllabus down for today! Tsk. Chill...” He points out, dusting off the imaginary dirt off of your pajamas in between warning you not to jump off chairs again. “Anyway, why don’t you just go with us? I saw the invite on your DMs! Just swipe a drink and go or something. You look like you need it—“

You redirect your glare at him who doesn’t waver, clearly your longer friend between him and Felix. “I have other things to do and we’re not friends. That jerk and I, I mean.” You grit stubbornly between your teeth. “He’s just stuck to me like a leech because of you two and Seungmin.”

“What’s worse is that he’s my neighbor starting this semester,” You quickly add before Hyunjin could argue back with another one of his bratty remarks. “I’ve seriously had enough of this guy. I’m definitely not giving myself more headache to go on his stupid birthday party!”

“But it’s free drinks?” Felix tries this time with a raised brow, making you slap a hand to your forehead.

“No. I already told you: the drinks aren’t worth it if it’s him offering.” You shake your head firmly, groaning and rolling your eyes when the muffled music intensifies above your heads as if in dramatic cue. 

“Why aren’t you even friends in the first place?” Hyunjin huffs, crossing his arms as if challenging you. “Seungmin won’t say anything, Changbin always changes the subject, and you’re always mad whenever we do as much as inhale to say Changbin’s name.”

The question sets you off even more, making you groan. “Just because! I really don’t like him, that’s all you need to know!” Sighing in defeat, you then push the two away from you and towards the direction of your door. “Ugh, I guess you three have chosen to be traitors to me tonight. Say hi to Seungmin for me if he turns up, I guess. He hasn’t dropped by so he’s probably gonna be late from tutoring or something. Damn it...” 

“Y/N!!!” The two pout at the same time, not even making efforts to stop you from pushing them across the floor and out of your mini communal area.

“Don’t be mad, please.” Felix adds with his best puppy eyes.

“We’ll tell Changbin to turn it down, then, swear!” Hyunjin adds after, nodding along with Felix in agreement. “And we’ll be civil tonight! Less drinks for us and no drunk stopovers here later, promise—“

“You said that a month ago at Changbin’s housewarming part 1 then two weeks ago at Changbin’s housewarming part 2. Not to mention when you stupidly stopped by my house drunk off your ass both ti—“

“Yeah, yeah, but that’s why Felix’s gonna remind me this time! Geez, Y/N.” Hyunjin frowns, flicking your forehead before pushing himself off of you and walking to the entrance on his own. “But swear, it’ll be as quiet as the campus library in a moment! We’ll really tell Changbin!”

“I wouldn’t even count on it at this point.” You sigh, directing Felix down to your apartment entrance to retrieve his shoes. “Just go, get out of my house. Happy birthday, Changbin or whatever.”

“You want us to pass that along?” Felix’s eyes immediately brighten optimistically while yours blow comically wild in disagreement. As you open your mouth to protest against it, the boy then wears his shoes back on and makes a run for your door. “Okay, Y/N, I’ll text you later what he’ll say!”

“Felix, no!” You call out for him helplessly, approaching Hyunjin who follows along haphazardly. “Ya! Ya! You fucking traitors!”

The music surprisingly quiets down when you hear Hyunjin’s loud voice upstairs three minutes later. 

The soft ping of your phone over an hour later reminds you of the pain seeping up your neck from looking down on your notes, making you reposition yourself in front of your work desk as more follow in quick succession. Picking up your phone, you immediately hold it away from your lamp as the screen brightens with each message from your best friend. 

seungmo: how’s the party? 

seungmo: running v late! 

seungmo: im walking to ur place now tho !!!

seungmo: soojin gave me a headache today w her homework 😭😭

seungmo: but yeah u & changbin aren’t killing each other yet right? 

seungmo: pls don’t

Sighing, you quickly cap your pen in your other hand and type in a quick reply. 

y/n: i didn’t go

y/n: i actually feel even better now that i didn’t seeing as you still aren’t there

seungmo: why not? 

seungmo: i thought you were coming???

seungmo: that’s why i’m coming? 

seungmo: dude we talked abt this 

seungmo: ur like neighbors now it’s rude if u don’t greet him at least once

seungmo: & u opened the DM from jisung too so???

y/n: y would i go? i hate changbin

y/n: doesn’t mean we’re neighbors now means that i have to greet him we can just co-exist until he gets kicked out or something

When Seungmin uncharacteristically doesn’t lecture you over text about being civil and polite right after, you set your phone down with a scoff on the quick conclusion that he’s probably caught up with crossing the street or the lack of cell service on your building elevator. Sinking in your chair, you look up to the ceiling once, threatening to shake with the heavy bass reverberating from its other side, and heave a long sigh. 

Of all places, you think to yourself in frustration as you then proceed to close your books and notebooks with a sudden migraine creeping up from the back of your head. Of all places, he just had to move here! 

You look over your phone once more as you then stand up from your seat and finish clearing your desk, frowning when no more messages pop up. 

The intercom across the hall, however, decides ping after. 

@skzwriternet

m.list

readers choose the adventure game! mechanics | requests checklist & series masterlist | prologue | part 2 (coming soon!)

[ramp-it-up]

Fresh Squeeze, Pt. 6

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall

Set in 2023, post-pandemic

Warnings: Cursing, Wild Thoughts™️, Angst, Yearning, 18+, Walmart shopping, Anime discussion, Anthony Ramos. Lots of Plot

Word Count: 2.8 K

Plot: Linden Marshall just finished law school at Columbia University in NYC. Daveed Diggs is still creating magic with his platonic life partner Rafael Casal in the form of their Blindspotting musical, Bay Boys. Linden’s boyfriend WAS Mark Monaco, star of the superhero movie series Invincible.  They were together for years, and her trauma and his addictions were toxic. She knows now that wasn’t love. 

A/N: Keep in mind that this the same AU as Arrivals, with Holly Woods, but is BEFORE Rafa and Holly get together. 

Read the previous chapter.

==================

Isabela, Puerto Rico, May 2023

“We are about 30 minutes from our destination. Please stay seated with your seatbelts fastened. The pilot will let you know when it is safe to do otherwise. Enjoy the rest of the flight.”

The flight attendant’s announcement woke up Daveed. He felt warm and happy. And he had you in his arms.

Daveed moved his head down into your curls, and kissed the top of your head., checking to see if anyone was watching. Everyone was knocked the fuck out. 

You had fallen asleep on his shoulder about 45 minutes into the flight after passing around champagne bottles. You were so cute, but he could tell that your neck was gonna be wrecked when you awoke.

Daveed had carefully maneuvered you so that he could pull up the armrest without waking you. You were dead to the world, so you waking up wasn’t a problem. 

Then, he pulled you to his chest, situating the blanket around you two and leaning back.  If he wanted anything from you right now, at the top of the list would be to be able to hold you like this and to show love.

He questioned that word in his mind. Love, really? He did love you, even if it was only as a good friend. But could it be more? Were you ready for that? Was he?

Daveed looked around to see Craig watching him and giving a thumbs up.  No one else noticed, Rafa was on his laptop and he could have sworn that Anthony and Jasmine were doing something nasty under their blanket behind you.  

He settled back into this feeling of being with you and fell asleep too, happy and content.

You woke up to a strange rhythm under your ear. It was a blue covered heartbeat, you recognized as you opened one eye, and it was insistent and hard, yet warm and safe. You shifted, held Daveed’s torso tighter and tried to drift back off. His arms tightened around you in response.

 Then your eyes popped open.

“Oh shit!”  You realized what was going on. You sat up slowly and squinted at Daveed’s smile and his damn low sexy voice. 

“Hey sleepyhead.”

“Hey.”  

You blushed and wiped your mouth. 

“Shit, I’m sorry…” you wiped at his onesie. “I think I drooled all over  your…” 

You didn’t finish the sentence when you glanced at Daveed and caught his eye. 

What you said that night came back to both of you. D’s eyes darkened and he licked his lips. For a minute, you were trapped by the static energy of your attraction. Daveed could do a lot with those lips right now if you’d let him. 

But of course you fought it.

You took a deep breath and sat up, separating from Daveed more fully. You had to get it together. You reached for your phone and checked your face, making sure you weren’t too crusty.

“Practically perfect in every way.” Daveed was watching you.

“That’s your first mistake.” You clicked your camera off. “ Anything that’s perfect isn’t real. Or alive.”  You had learned a lot in therapy.

“Truth.” Daveed looked at you appraisingly. “Such wisdom from a young one.” He leaned close to you.  “That’s why I said, ‘practically.’”  He was staring at your lips, not wanting to give up on meeting them again.

“I’m not a ‘young one.’ I’m thirty in two days.” 

You lifted your chin as a child would do, Daveed noted.  It was appropriate, because you were being stubborn as fuck right now.

He chuckled and stayed close, not letting you off the hook.  

“And I’m 40. I could be your…”  

The timbre of his voice was causing your pussy to vibrate. Holy fuck.

“...Daddy,” you said, huskily.  

You opened your mouth to breathe, as Daveed grunted quietly in his throat. God, you wanted to fuck him. You remembered that you knew how big he was. Your eyes widened and you watched his mouth.

Daveed would teach you about Daddy. He wanted to rail you until your pussy curved to his dick.  Got damn.

Daveed wanted you and you wanted him. It was crystal clear. He began to reach for you under the blanket when the flight attendant’s voice intruded on your vibe.

“We are beginning our descent into Rafael Hernández Airport, please stay seated with your seatbelts fastened and bring your tray tables and seats to an upright and locked position. The temperature is 75 degrees and the current time is 12:47 am.  We should be at our gate shortly. Thank you.”

That’s it. The moment was gone. You reached for your water bottle and took a drink to cool down. You were grateful.

Daveed was frustrated, as he sat back, brought his seat up, but held the blanket on his lap for a little while longer. It wasn’t fair, he almost had you. He closed his eyes. Now he felt like a child.

---------

The crew finally arrived in town around 2 am, after the two hour flight and renting a couple of cars to get to Isabela, a village on the seaside.

Loud music was playing to avoid falling asleep, Rafael driving one car and Ant the other.

Arriving in town, the two cars headed straight to the Walmart to get some food and things. It was almost 2 am, but everyone was re-energized and playing around, glad to be free for the time being on the island.

Daveed had to concentrate to read the titles in the video section.  His mind kept going back to the moment on the airplane.  But he vowed not to chase you up and down this island. He didn’t want to crowd you.  It had to be your decision.

You had to come to him. And  the thought of you made him want to cum. He’d have you to think about in the shower tonight, or today, whatever.

He needed to stop thinking about it.

Daveed was looking for Black Dynamite to watch in the condo in case it rained. He knew better than to think that Walmart had it, but he tried anyway.

He did see Afro Samurai tho… He picked it up as Rafa approached him with a toy xylophone and a big grin.

==================

Puerto Rico did something to all of you. It was like some weird no inhibitions pollen or something. When you stepped off the plane you decided to not overthink shit. You were just going to respond naturally, fuck the consequences.

This was your weekend, after all.

You walked into the entertainment section and heard some vaguely familiar music. As you got closer, you realized what it was.

Daveed was in the book section rapping “Rubber Duckie” as Rafa played a toy xylophone.

I got my rubber duckie

I'm in the tub with bubblies

He isn't very fuzzy

I know my duckie loves me

Call up my homie Ernie,

You know the orange one, ya heard me

D was going in, being silly and laughing with his bestie. He was fucking adorable.  You grinned at them and turned down the dvd aisle.

“I can’t believe they don’t have Cowboy Bebop.”  

You shook your head as Daveed and Rafa walked up and flanked you at the display, a shopping cart by Daveed’s side.

“It’s a classic.  Children will be referencing the War on Titan and it's after effects a hundred years from now."

Rafa just nodded and stroked his chin, having enough sense to be quiet.

“Wait, Attack on Titan is right here Lindy…” Daveed reached for a dvd and held it up in front of you.

Rafa shook his head and covered it with his hand.

"Spike Spiegel wasn't in Attack on Titan.  That's an entirely different anime series, my dude." 

The sardonic wit in your voice. Daveed just nodded, face on the floor, and put the blu ray down.

You squinted at what D had in his hand. 

"Afro Samurai is 20 years old as well.  You know that and not Cowboy Bebop? You put shame on your house. Old Man.”

You gave him a sexy grin and sauntered away shaking your head.

Rafa had been watching the scene, head on a swivel. All he had to say after you left was, “Boom. Roasted.” 

Daveed just chuckled, surprised and exhilarated at the same time. It seemed that you were up to letting loose a little bit.

He looked at Rafa who just watched Daveed falling. He couldn’t catch him this time.

"Man. Tonight looks like the beginning of an EPIC weekend,” Rafa said as he pushed some more dvds into Daveed’s cart.

Then he pulled a pack of Magnum XLs off the shelf that he had been hiding under his arm from you.

Daveed looked at him. Rafa stared back.

“What?  All these beautiful women on this island. I’m not gonna be unprepared or take any chances.”

Daveed shook his head, grimaced and looked around to see where you went, but you were nowhere to be found.

----

You were busy eating some Hot Cheetos that you’d grabbed on the chip aisle and were turning down the candy aisle when you saw Grumpy Care Bear standing there with a basket full of food, dvds and shit, looking at some sour patch kids.

"Oh hell,"  you said as you turned right back around.

"Ay, yo.  Lindy. You can get your candy. I'm not going to assault you with my inferior anime knowledge."

He laughed that sexy laugh and held up his hands. He sort of regretted calling you back because you walking away...Damn. Even in the Pikachu onesie.

Daveed continued to hold up his hands to show he didn't intend any harm, a smile on the lips that were your weakness earlier.  Fuck me, you thought.

You smiled back at him and went for the Jelly Bellys. You crunched loudly on your Cheetos as you clocked him out on the low. You felt bad. A little. 

"Look, I'm sorry about that in the dvds.  I'm just passionate about what I like."

Daveed wondered if you liked him. Like liked him liked him. He allowed himself to go there. 

You sucked the Cheeto dust off your fingers and it was making D feel some kinda way as he watched your fingers go in and out of your mouth. His eyes began to slide down your body.

He needed to stop. Daveed cleared his throat and looked at your face.

"No problem. I get it. It's all good." 

Diggs unconsciously licked his lips and grinned, causing you to stare for a second at his casual hotness. This couldn't continue. You frowned.

Daveed sensed the change in mood, grabbed his Sour Patch kids and backed away.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

That was a close call you thought as you felt some weird pang of disappointment at him leaving. But it was what it was.

Soon enough, you all left the store.  Rafa stole some of your Jelly Belly’s. You just handed over the pack to him and pulled out some more. You were prepared.

==================

When the crew finally got to the house, you dropped your bags and ran to the beach, celebrating four days of freedom from work, acting, fame, fortune, and expectations.

After a few minutes of staring at the waves, y’all made your way back up to the house.

When you walked in before Jazzy turned the lights on, you recognized a large dark expanse which seemed to be the back wall. As your eyes got adjusted, you noticed the white rolls of the waves on the shore. 

The back wall was floor to ceiling glass.  When the lights came up, it turned into a mirror and 6 characters in onesies stared back at you.

You were at the back of an open concept space with a huge u-shaped sectional sofa and a beautiful, big kitchen with a bar.

Daaaammmmmmnnn! This place is gorgeous!  Craig’s mouth was hanging open. You reached over and closed it.

“Welcome to our home away from home!” Anthony was bleary eyed and smiling wide. 

He pointed to the right of the house.

“Me and Jazzy’s room is over there,” he then pointed to the right of the house. 

“The birthday girl’s room is opposite over there, a mirror of the master,” then he pointed to the back of the house behind you and to the right,  “and the other four bedrooms are here.” 

Ant started pulling their luggage toward their room, talking over his shoulder. 

“Everybody gets their own room, even me, when I fuck up.” 

All of you cracked up laughing whole Jasmine nodded her head.

It was almost 4 am, so you all were tired.  You gladly pulled your suitcase to your room, feeling grateful and warm for being the guest of honor of your friends.  Your room was the bomb.

You walked into a spacious room with bamboo wood floors,and exposed wooden beam ceilings and several floor to ceiling windows.  There was a huge fluffy white rug under a comfortable king sized bed in the middle of the room. 

Two uniquely designed bamboo lounge chairs and white pillow ottomans faced a window where you could look through and see the pool and beach.

It was a luxury get away and right now, all you wanted was a shower and the bed.

You put your suitcase on the floor and got down and opened it.  You shook your head at what you saw.

“HOLY FUCK GOT DAMN SHIT!!!!”

Daveed, Craig and Jasmine came running at your screams.  Rafa and Ant were behind.

“What happened.”

You were embarrassed. But so irritated.

“Craig. You got the wrong suitcase.  This is Mark’s shit that he never came to get.  None of my clothes are here.  I have nothing to wear.”  You felt like crying.

“I’m sorry Lindy, you said that your summer clothes and bathing suits were in the rolling soft Louis bag…”

I mean the large one. This is the medium one. It’s okay, Craig.

“You have nothing to wear hunh?”

Daveed was smirking at you and you ignored it, crossing your arms and tapping your foot.

“But it’s perfect!”  You looked at Jasmine and her chipper British accent.

“We can go shopping for your birthday tomorrow. Treat yourself!”

You couldn’t help but smile at Jazzy’s happiness. She was right. Rafa and Ant went away and left y’all to that talk. Daveed was glued to his spot.

“OOooooh. Good Idea.” Craig was in. 

“Ok.I’m tired as fuck. I just wanna shower and sleep now. I’ll not need anything tonight.

Daveed couldn’t get the image of you in the shower and naked in bed out of his head now. He cleared his throat.

“I can give you something to wear shopping tomorrow, Lindy.”

His voice was soft.  You smiled at him and he was a goner.

“Man, you are like three times bigger than she is?”  Jasmine didn’t understand.

“Hold up. Are you willing to sacrifice, D?  Can we cut up one of your t-shirts and jeans?”

Daveed felt pain. The only t-shirts he had were Oaklandish.  

“Let’s compromise. You can cut my jeans all you want, but not the shirt.”

Craig smiled wide.  “Deal, if you throw in a belt.”

“Damn, Diggs…” was all that Jasmine said, smiling and shaking her head.

“Thank you Daveed. I appreciate it.” You were blown away.

Daveed played it off. “No problem…” And then he just turned around and walked out of your room.

“Girlllllllll!!!!”  Craig and Jasmine squealed at you and it took you a minute to get them out of your room.

You walked into the en suite bathroom and marveled at its beauty. It was large, with a huge tub and a walk in glass encased shower with an overhead waterfall  shower head. 

You turned on the shower to get it hot, stripped off your onesie and your underwear, wrapped yourself in a towel and went back into the bedroom.

You stopped short, because there was Daveed standing in your room, clothes in hand.

He had immediately gone to find his least favorite jeans and the Oakland shirt that would suit you the best.  He decided that you would look beautiful in blue.

You just in a towel was a sight to behold. He was sure that underneath that towel was paradise.

You stared at each other for a minute, Your eyes were glued to his.  

“Th-thank you again Daveed.”  He couldn’t discern if your hesitant, sexy voice was for him or from embarrassment.

“Sorry, I…. didn’t think you’d be… sorry.” He put his hands up and backed out of the room.

“Daveed.” You called, softly. “Stop.”

You approached him with a smile on your face. Daveed’s eyes were wide, not knowing what was going to happen.

“Thank you. I mean it.”

You stood on your tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, your lips lingering. Daveed closed his eyes and fought the urge to grab you and hold you close to him.

“You’re welcome.” His smile wrinkled his eyes as he smiled down at you. 

“Goodnight, Linden. Have sweet dreams for me.”

You just stared at him as he turned and left the room.

Daveed was just outside your door when he heard your reply.

“Yes, Sir.”

==================

Read the Next Chapter.

Thank you for liking, replying, and reblogging! 

Tagging: @einfachniemand @sillyteecup @commandersmiley @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @curtainremote @biafbunny @id-do-it-for-free-babe

[cryptid-called-ash]

stupid incoherent Arthuriana based story ramblings i had to shove somewhere. tbh it’s insane, but funny enough that i thought i’d at least share the ideas.  (brandy bottle knighthood and other classic hijinks, 1/?)

please note this is in no way, shape, or form even trying to pretend to by accurate to the text. this is a crack fic for the sole purpose of good ol’ fashion feel something again entertainment. 

debating on posting/continuing to write this thing based off Arthurian legend. will absolutely be buck wild and only use the most bizarre lore/barest minimum recognisable stuff (half of which is stuff pulled from the Disney vers plot/the one movie i think is just called ‘Arthur’?). like dead-ass pretty much only names and obscure powers. and it is really queer, i mean like pretty much every character is some flavour of LGBTQ+. 

for a general idea of the tone, there are 4 working titles; brandy bottle knighthood and other classic hijinks, the queer antics of the round table rebels, the many tales of the rebel king and his beloved knights, (and finally) a series of increasingly ridiculous happenings centred around the Pen Draig twins roughly coalesced into a maddening but mostly tangible plot. (the last one’s my favourite)

one last point i need to mention, ya’ll cool is we briefly let Kay and Arthur think Ector set them to get fucked (read executed for treason, it’ll make sense later i swear)? absolutely not permanent, i’m a slut redemption arcs, but just for the narrative knife twisting, you know? 76% of this is found family fluff, the angst has to go somewhere. (hurt/comfort drawn out for two chapters. don’t worry, they work it out; ‘Of family and rainstorms’ and ‘The storm breaks, we are safe and warm’. sappy titles, eh? they get worse trust me) stans please don’t hurt me, i’m only doing this bc i love you

(alrighty, with all the crack fic warnings out of the way, last chance to back out, i am just gonna info dump all the insane jot-notes directly from my notebook, of which half i don’t remember writing down.)

all set? good, let’s get this show on the road i guess.

weird random shit it would have include(but is in no way limited too):

[background info/prologue?]

-Uther had wed a woman named Westenra(sounds pretty and i could not be bothered to look up his wife’s actual name. we’ll just say her real name is the one she used in a public setting). 

-first huge change, Wes is fae. (why? bc i said so.) Uther is fully aware of this and is loving it. “pretty lady and she could rip me apart without even lifting a finger?” 0////0 

(don’t get attached to this tho, they both die like 14 years before the story even starts.)

-unimportant fact #1: wes is like a foot and a half taller than Uther. none of this matters but it’s important to me you know this. okay back the mess of bullet point i called ‘plot relevant’

- royal couple with baby! two actually. yes big change two is Arthur and Morgan are twins and no other siblings. i like them the best, the others can be fae encountered later. maybe.  

-oh, and are like half fae too, i guess. (yay for drawing purposes bc pointy ears and tails! no i didn’t think through how Arthur’s gonna hide these traits for like 14 years, i’ll figure it out later)

-babies arrive, but oh no treason! 

-so the king’s dead now, that’s fun. kingdom get uspered (idk, pick a villain or make one up, all the same. will be referred to as King Man Person or KMP until further notice) 

-newborns get shunted off onto the closest loyal attendants for safe keeping, Wes promptly goes wrathful fae queen, wrecks shit, but gets mortally wounded. 

-she jams Uther’s sword (fancy wedding gift from the lady of the lake) in that churchyard rock, binding it to her bloodline so only the twins can wield it, takes husband’s body into a forest, whereupon she dies and the bodies turn into an oak tree bc magic i guess. 

-kids get pawned off to separate them (think the luke & leia, for their protection kinda thing) . the usual Ector adopts Arthur stuff. Morgan gets raised by the witches of Avalon. 

- time skip and we’re ready to actually start taking plot...

...in the next post. this one’s already really long.

[legendofzelda4life]

Up In The Skies

Hellooooo today is day 21!

A whole three weeks? Wow. Thank you all for taking the time to read these so far. I hope you’ve all enjoyed.

Anyway, today I give you some non-platonic Hyrule and Sky. If you’re new here, I write Zelda-themed (or LU-themed) one shots. I do take requests and more information is left at the base of this post.

Also disclaimer: Sun is depicted very differently in this compared to canon.

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

“Welcome to my Hyrule!” Sky spun in a circle as he recognised the Hyrule Sun and him had been putting together.

“You live on land?” Wind was extremely surprised. He had a good reason to be as well.

“Isn’t your title ‘hero of the skies’?” Legend asked with a chuckle.

Sky looked slightly to the floor. “That was over year ago. I live here now with Sun.” Hyrule could easily hear the saddened tone in the hero’s voice as he tried to look anywhere but up. It didn’t seem like anyone else noticed though.

“Anyway,” Sky looked to everyone, cheery once more, “I should show you all around!” He took Hyrule and Wind - who were both closest to him - by the hand. 

Hyrule.exe has stopped working

The brunette boy felt his brain turn to mush as his face heated up slightly.

“Sky’s holding my hand! Sky’s holding my hand! SKY IS HOLDING MY FUCKING HAND!” His thoughts screamed.

Yeah, he was broken.

Before he knew it, the group was walking through the town as Sky explained everything.

Hyrule wasn’t listening to the words, just the tone. When Sky was calm, it was nice. When he was happy, it was absolute music to his ears. But, when the boy was sad, Hyrule could feel his pain and squeezed his hand every time.

“So, what are you and Sun?” Warriors asked. Hyrule payed a lot of attention to the conversation. Sky burst out in laughter. “Sun is my best friend, basically a sister to me.” Suddenly, another voice appeared.

“BESTIE!”

And Sky was pulled from Hyrule’s grip.

“Oooh, are these the boys you talk about? Which one is he?” A girl - who was assumed to be Sun - gave Sky a look that said ‘tell-me-or-I-will-eat-your-family’. Scary.

“Ummm…” Sky trailed off and shot Hyrule a glance. “It doesn’t matter.” Unfortunately, Sun noticed the glance and snapped her head to Hyrule.

Then screamed.

“I approve!” She yelled before leaving. Sky pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “My best friend, everyone.” He said disappointedly, waving a hand in the direction Sun ran in.

“What just happened?” Wild asked, earning shrugs from all over the group. Sky looked to Hyrule before looking above him. “You guys should get to bed, there’s enough space at my place.” Sky grabbed Hyrule’s hand once more as the group walked to the boy’s house.

“Okay the seven of you can get comfy- don’t touch that.” He said casually as Wind reached for an expensive looking bow (sacred bow).

“Seven?” Time questioned. “Yeah, I’m stealing ‘Rule for a few hours.” Sky squeezed the boy’s hand. “Ew, couples.” Wind pretended to gag as he pushed the pair out the door. “Have fun!” He yelled. “I’ll make sure Wild doesn’t burn your house down!” A loud ‘hey’ came from inside the house, causing Hyrule to chuckle lightly.

The pair walked for a bit and Hyrule could feel himself - and see Sky - getting sleepy. “We can go back if you want.” He suggested. Sky shook his head. “I want to show you this first.” Sky then called out and a giant red bird came down.

“This is my loftwing. They will take us where I want to take you.” Sky lifted Hyrule onto the loftwing, following soon after.

“Ready?” Sky asked. Hyrule gave a silent nod and held Sky’s hands as they sat on the reigns.

Suddenly, the pair was in the sky, yelling happily as they went into the air. “This is so fun!” Hyrule yelled, causing Sky to chuckle. “Well we’re gonna get off soon.” Sky said, guiding the loftwing downwards slightly.

(this place isn’t actually in the game)

They landed on a small piece of land that was elevated above the clouds.

It had a small lake on it with a tiny tree. There was also a small lantern-like object on a wooden post.

“This is where I wanted to take you.” Sky hopped off the loftwing, letting Hyrule off after. 

“You probably want to know what Sun was talking about?”

Hyrule nodded. Sky sighed a little as he smiled. “Thought so.” He laughed.

“Well she meant ‘he’ as in ‘who’s the one you like?’” Sky explained. Hyrule let his hopes raise a little.

Maybe… He desperately wished so. It can’t be though… He knew.

“So you want my advice? I don’t have experience with guys Sky but, knowing you, you probably like Warriors or some shit I don’t know.” Hyrule was a little frustrated. “What? No! Dear Hylia, you’re an idiot.” Sky said.

“What?” Hyrule asked quietly. Was it Twilight?

“You.” Sky said the one word and Hyrule felt helpless.

Let the kid process.

“SKY like the SKY likes ME???”

Yeah, Hyrule isn’t really working.

Then everything loaded in his brain and Sky was tackled into the water.

“You’re fucking amazing and I love you!” Hyrule said, full of happiness.

Then again…

Sky always made him smile.

END

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

I know, I know, it could’ve been longer. But if I didn’t stop now I’d make a whole series and I really don’t have that kind of dedication lmao.

I hope you all enjoyed this.

LEAVE REQUESTS BELOW!

REQUESTS MUST INCLUDE:

PAIRING

TYPE/GENRE/CATEGORY (fluff, angst, etc)

PLATONIC OR NOT

I WILL WRITE ONLY ABOUT THE LINKS (including the ravio, shadow, the zeldas, and requested characters. Will not write about whole other fandoms though)

I CAN DO READER INSERTS IF REQUESTED (no oc’s tho)

CAN DO AN AU IF REQUESTED