#Infamous chapter 11

[bellarichie]

just read a few chapters in a book that were so baffling so batshit insane that after reading it i was so emotionally confused i couldn't even identify whether the author was a bad writer or if i was the bad reader

#this is the power of nora sakavic #talking about that infamous chapter (11) from the second book of that sports mafia gay romance ya book trilogy #and all the other subsequential chapters #you know the one

[eregyrn-falls]

Tweet link. (Beware: this video of the book has flashing lights and glitching graphics.)

Link to tweet.

Link to Books.disney.com

Did you miss him? Admit it, you missed him.

The demon that terrorized Gravity Falls is back from the great beyond to finally tell his side of the story in The Book of Bill, written by none other than Bill Cipher himself.

Inside, Bill sheds light on his bizarre origins, his sinister effects on human history, the Pines family’s most embarrassing secrets, and the key to overthrowing the world (laid out in a handy step-by-step guide). This chaotic and beautifully illustrated tome contains baffling riddles, uncrackable ciphers, lost Journal 3 pages, ways to cheat death, the meaning of life, and a whole chapter on Silly Straws. But most importantly, The Book of Bill is deeply, deeply cursed.

Beware: This book travels to dimensions meant for older readers.

Alex Hirsch, #1 New York Times bestselling author, resuscitates this infamous villain and invites fans to a Bill’s eye view of the Gravity Falls universe. There are many who believe this book is too dangerous for human hands. But if you can’t resist, beware: Once you make a deal with Bill, it’s not so easily undone . . .

Released: July 23rd, 2024

Pages: 208

ISBN1368092209

9781368092203

Age Range: Adult

Barnes & Noble exclusive edition!

This Barnes & Noble Exclusive Edition features a gold foil jacket and includes 16 extra pages of Bill's twisted life advice!

This also displays a link for a "Signed Book", for the same price as the B&N Exclusive. It is a signed copy of the B&N Exclusive edition.

And just to round things off:

Link to tweet.

THIS IS NOT A DRILL. It’s a dremel. Learn the difference at Ranger Henson’s woodworking workshop every other Wednesday at 11 at our Administration Building

That's it for now! I'm sure there will be more later, but time to post this.

#gravity falls #alex hirsch #bill cipher #oregon parks dept #the book of bill #merch #ids in alt text

[dmclemblems]

i bet the reason bk attacked my cat again three/four years later is bc he thought there was a warranty on how long he had to go not attacking him and he thought that warranty was expired so he did it again

joke’s on him, tibarn said it wasn’t

#every time he tries to hurt blue kett someone stops him #has he just not realized the earth and nature itself has a protective veil over him? #has he just not realized it was not meant to be? #has he failed to see that everyone loves the blue kett and will not allow such a blasphemy? #bk rly opened his villain dictionary after por chapter 11 and read: #an engagement by the insured party that certain statements are true or that certain conditions shall be fulfilled #the breach of it invalidating the policy #and he was like hmmm okay #an engagement by the insured party (blue kett) #that certain statements are true of that certain conditions shall be fulfilled (go now hurry!) #the breach of it (attacking kett and preventing go now quickly) #invalidating the policy (''one of the perisoner's'' get out of bk kill free pass go collect 200 gold) #and realized he could not breach the policy set forth by world renowned mastermind jokester birb #lest he face the hammer of cat justice far earlier than the end of the sequel war #the thing abt the hammer of cat justice is that no armor is impenetrable to it #so no goddess blessing was gonna help him if that hammer came down to smash him and turn him into a black ant #mind you red ants are more persistent than black ants and harder to kill #which is why zelgius hides in red armor bc he knows he's less likely to be killed if he's a red ant today #a black ant is easier to spot too bc he's so infamous and recognizable and tellius peta will come for his ass #if he's a red ant nobody will realize he's also the black ant #but he messed up when he thought the warranty was expired and tried to attack again bc that warranty never expires #so now he's not safe bc both black and red ant have tried the same thing and it gave him away #ranulf was like shit man i had this one black ant try to get me once before and you just did the same exact thing #that's hella sus and i might have to confer with my people (boyfriend) that i think you're an imposter #also what would happen if we tossed a red ant in armor out of the airship? #and then tibarn comes in like we'll have to wait and see bc before we toss him out into space i have to get you #a special free ride with yours truly back to safety bc he revealed his true colors (black ant) when he attacked you #later janaff was asked to spy on red ant and lost his shit when the red ant grew in size and turned black and warped #to the enemy ant hill and fought as a black ant but then shrank himself and turned into red ant and went back to other enemy ant hill

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 11

x pairing professor!gojo x med student f!reader (medical au)

x 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.

x wc 13.5 k (enjoy your meal lol)

x 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.

x 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!)

#symptoms and causes #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen #saturo gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo angst #gojo angst #jjk smut #gojo satoru #jjk x you #jjk fanfic

[mochinomnoms]

The Private (not) Thoughts of a Moray

Gender Neutral Reader x Jade Leech

Synopsis: In theory, telepathy is a great power that can help the person understand the other better, learn dark secrets, or just be a little nosey. In your case, though, theory doesn’t always reflect reality. Slowly turning your head to the source of the (tremendously) loud thought, you saw the infamous Vice Housewarden of Octavinelle, Jade Leech. A polite, yet inscrutable smile on his face, Jade’s thoughts betrayed his nonchalant facade. Aaaaaaaah! I’m sitting in front of Y/N! I just wanna turn around and stare. Aaaaah! Little pearl, your voice is so cute, talk some more! Y/N’s class introduction…their voice was… really cute. Their moans are probably really cute too. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit how the hell do I turn this off??? Loosely based on “Mousou Telepathy”

a03 link

spotify playlist

fanart: @nefe-kav (1/2/3/4/5/6)

[cw] – sexual humor and innuendos

[tags] – fluff, sexual humor, slightly aged-up characters, slow burn, mutual pining, more tags to follow

Edited 2/19/2024: added accompanying playlist and added all chapters with their titles

Chapter List:

chapter 1: I wonder if you look both ways (when you cross my mind)

chapter 2: I love you means you're never, ever, ever getting rid of me!

chapter 3: They say it’s gotten out of hand, and I’m obsessed with you

chapter 4: This thing called love, I just can’t handle it

chapter 5: I wanna go on walks with you, I wanna have long talks with you

chapter 6: I've gotten good at making up metaphors [PENDING]

chapter 7: No matter what they say, You'll never meet another me

chapter 8: Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle

chapter 9: Bhfuilis soranna sorcha, Ach tagais 'nós na hoíche

chapter 10: Before the dawn has come, I'd block the sun (If you want it done)

chapter 11: Son of Nyx (and thoughts of a moray)

chapter 12: Perfection is so quick to bore

chapter 13: My heart, I never be, I never see, I never know

chapter 14: You were steerin' my heart like a wheel in your hands (Turn back, darling)

chapter 15: I can hear your thoughts light a melody

#twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #twst jade #jade leech x reader #jade leech x yuu #mochi masterlist #the private thoughts (not) of a moray #ptm

[yunjinified]

Jeonghan fic recs

✿=personal favourites

note: this list will constantly be updated. In all of these fics the reader is either gender neutral or female. Posted this for Jeonghan's birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY JEONGHAN

red horn by @himbocoups warnings and genre: devil!jeonghan, innocent!reader, fantasy, supernatural, smut, pwp, flirting, food mention, office, bondage, light choking, creampie, dirty talk, fingering, oral, pet names, pnv, praise, jeonghan fucking you with devil horns, reader wears lingerie, reader's first time, multiple orgasms. word count: 5400

manipulative by @sxfthannie warnings and genre: yandere!jeonghan, mild manipulating. word count: 780

angel of the night by @00angelyoon warnings and genre: husband!jeonghan, established relationship, newly weds, smut, fluff, pet names(darling, baby, pretty girl, angel), mean dom!jeonghan, sub!reader, degradation, slight praise kink, multiple orgasms(fem receiving), oral(fem receiving), fingering, lingerie, swearing, teasing, mentions of food. word count: N/A

we get along infamously by @seungkwansphd series warnings and genre: coworker!jeonghan, smut, fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, emotional constipation, secret relationship, meet cute ugly, makeup sex, dad!seungcheol, dad!dk, college friend!joshua. word count: N/A, 3 chapters, 2 prequels.

23:48 by @sluttyminghao warnings and genre: smut word count: N/A

blueberries by @sunnylovespickles warnings and genre: yoga instructor!jeonghan, smut, impact play, public sex?, multiple orgasms, dom-sub themes, counting, sadist jeonghan, multiple positions, pull out method, recording, controlled orgasm, use of 'sir'. word count: 2000+

beef by @wondernus warnings and genre: one shot smau, humor, e2l. word count: N/A

pathetic series by @leejihoonownsmyheart series warnings and genre: dub con, smut, frat boy!jeonghan, college student!y/n, best friend!jeongyeon, soft dom to hard dom!jeonghan, mean!jeonghan, submissive!y/n, heavy degradation, light masochist!y/n, sadist!jeonghan, mild pain kink, vaginal fingering, cunnulingus, creampie, spitting, slapping, mentions of safe words but they are never used, big dick!jeonghan, blowjob, slight public play, phone sex, y/n has a humiliation kink, mentions of aftercare. word count: N/A, 8 chapters, 1 bonus content.

heaven angel by @jeonghantis warnings and genre: university au, frat boy!jeonghan, fwb, smut, a bit of angst, language, house party scene, gossip, bathroom sex, unrequited crush, reader has commitment issue, reader is a bit mean, mentions of piss and shit but not in a sexual manner. word count: 4100

call me by his name by @sweetlemontart warnings and genre: smut, established relationship, fluff, sub!reader, angry hard dom!jeonghan but actually soft dom, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, degradation, choking, hair pulling, spanking, creampie, slight dacryphilia, orgasm denial?, mentions of mc's past relationship with ex!seungcheol. word count: 8600

rain and kisses by @babyleostuff warnings and genre: fluff, drabble. word count: N/A

mirror, mirror on the wall by @ikigaisvt warnings and genre: dom!jeonghan, sub!reader, smut, mirror kink, dirty talk, begging, mean!jeonghan, teasing, orgasm denial, overstimulation, masturbation(male), use of vibrator, cum, talk of exhibitionism, pet names(reader: doll, slut/my slut, sweet thing, baby, poor thing, pretty angel / jeonghan : hannie, baby). word count: 1000

Seungkwan's and Jeonghan's friend swap Pt.2 by @bitchlessdino warnings and genre: smut, mature themes, mentions of alcohol, brief mention of substance in drink, bathroom sex, dom!jeonghan, mirror sex, fingering, standing back shots, praise kink, one night stand. word count: 2700

no one! - 11:55pm by @kaespas(deactivated) warnings and genre: smut, degradation, mentions of porn, masturbation. word count: N/A note: because this account has been deactivated, i had relogged the original post and used that reblog as the link for this fic, if you get what i mean.

4:59pm by @sunnylovespickles warnings and genre: incubus!jeonghan, smut, drabble. word count: N/A

blame it on me by @onlymingyus warnings and genre: brothers bestfriend!jeonghan, joshua's sister!reader, smut, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, banter, pet names, hair pulling, eating food, alcohol, fluff, humour. word count: 5400

lucky girl by @horangare warnings and genre: model!jeonghan, smut, angst, fluff, fake dating, unrequited love, friends to strangers to lover, public sex, couch sex, oral(m and f receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, cockiness, mentions of rehab, crying, arguing, jealousy, pining and yearning. word count: 14 900

my guardian demon sucks at his job (not clickbait) by @shuaflix warnings and genre: smut, fluff, humour, angsts, supernatural au, demon au, demon!jeonghan, not biblically accurate, profanity, slow burn, found family, banter, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, teasing, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), fingering, palming, unprotected sex, ft. demon!shua and demon!wonwoo word count: 23 610

I Hate U, I Love U by @wonusite warnings and genre: enemies to lovers au, rich kid au, college au, model au, fake dating au, angst, fluff, smut, rich boy!jeonghan, frat boy!jeonghan, former rich girl!reader, model!reader, classism, asshole parents, drinking, scheming, mild violence (1 slap), repressed feelings, jealousy, fake relationship, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, pussy drunk!jeonghan, cockdrunk!reader, multiple creampies, squirting, overstimulation. word count: 20 800

little miss naughty by @hoshzone warnings and genre: established relationship, idol!au, smut, thigh riding, begging, oral(fem receiving), breast play, orgasm denial, dirty talk, manhandling, voyeurism, use of pet names, dom!jeonghan, innocence kink. word count: 4300

#jeonghan smut #jeonghan angst #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan angst #yoon jeonghan fluff

[ohnococo]

Fight Night Masterlist

Warnings: public sex, exhibitionism, size difference bordering on size kink, Sukuna has a monster hog that's pierced, fingering, creampie, rough sex, reader doesn't realize there's a voyeur present, partying, drinking, drug use, grinding, fem bodied reader, a fuck buddy type situation, reader cums in the middle of a crowd, reader is messy sloppy drunk/high, vaginal sex, hand jobs, spitting, sex under the influence, overstimulation, forced orgasm, Oral sex (giving and receiving), deep throating, manhandling, ruined orgasm, squirting, car sex, breast play

Chapter 1 | You weren't familiar with Infamous MMA Fighter Ryomen 'The King' Sukuna when he entered the club, but he certainly wants to become familiar with you.

Chapter 2 | The end of your first encounter bleeds into your second.

Chapter 3 | Its your last night with Sukuna, and all you can do is make the most of it.

Chapter 4 | Two months after you last closed the door on your "situation" with Sukuna, he sends you a message.

Chapter 5 | Sukuna invites you out for lunch.

Chapter 6 | Sukuna gets some bad news about his fight, and you take him out to get his mind off of it.

Chapter 7 | When Sukuna finds out who his next opponent will be, you get a few breadcrumbs about his past.

Chapter 8 | Aoi Todo calls Sukuna out publicly, and it leads to a very uncomfortable discussion between you and Sukuna.

Chapter 9 | You take care of Sukuna, and he takes care of you - this time with a gift. Uraume gives you a little insight along the way.

Chapter 10 | After clarifying things, you and Sukuna are much closer, and you have something special in mind for the night before his fight.

Chapter 11 | FINAL CHAPTER | The day of the fight has arrived.

Fight Night Recovery: Events taking place after Fight Night

#💛 fight night #masterlists

[syrikif]

Gamer Etiquette

Kodzuken x Streamer!Y/N

Pairing: Kenma Kozume x Fem!Reader

Genre: SMAU + Written, Strangers to Lovers, Romance, Fluff, Humor, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Streamer/Youtuber AU

Content Warnings: Sexual jokes/content, mention of death threats, mature language

Upcoming content creator/streamer, Y/N, has gone viral for lots of things. Her infamous dumb moments, her blended cookie recipe (which tastes better than it sounds), the way she rages at her friends during games, and about a hundred more.

But her most recent viral moment? Accidentally knocking famous streamer, Kodzuken, off the Bedwars map and making him lose his two year winning streak.

Now with more attention (and hate) than she ever asked for, her only option left is to go to the source: the man himself, Kenma Kozume.

Created: October 6, 2023 Completed: (Ongoing) Update Schedule: I’m currently in the process of moving so just whenever I can :)

Masterlist:

Important Profiles: Y/N's Group Kenma's Group Prologue: Daddy Kink Cat Distribution System Chapter 1: Thirst Trap Hospital Food Chapter 2: Bedwars 🖊 Boredom 🖊 Chapter 3: Trending One Game Chapter 4: Calm Guilt 🖊 Chapter 5: Unhinged One in a Million Chapter 6: Cuddle Buddies 🖊 Casual Chapter 7: Rating The Cat Girl Chapter 8: A Dozen Men Little Things 🖊 Chapter 9: Scaredy Kitten Disappearing Act Chapter 10: Chapter 11: tbc . . .

Author's Notes:

Hey guys! This is my first post on Tumblr and the first SMAU I've ever written. Which, kudos to everyone else who makes SMAU's because they are a lot of work.

Just some basic info before you begin reading:

Y/N uses she/her pronouns and is feminine presenting.

Every chapter will have two parts, one part from Y/N's point of view and one part from Kenma's; the order will differ depending on the chapter.

Every update will be a double post so make sure you know you’re reading the correct one first, and reading both of them.

Time stamps don't really matter unless explicitly written by me so you can just ignore them :)

There will be both written and social media elements; written parts will be marked with a pen (🖊).

And I'm gonna be honest, while I love the anime I haven't actually watched it in a long time and I was never able to finish season three. That being said, if anything I write seems out of character for anyone just bear with me I'm trying my best lol.

Please feel free to give me any feedback and/or criticism to help me improve. And if any of the links aren't working just let me know and I'll try to get it fixed ASAP.

If you have any questions, don't feel too shy and reach out if possible; I promise I'll answer to the best of my ability.

(Also, just comment if you'd like to be on the taglist.)

Hope you enjoy the story :)

#kenma x reader #kozume kenma #kenma x y/n #kenma smau #kenma kozume #kodzuken #haikyuu smau #smau #smau series #gaming #fanfiction #minecraft #kenma fanfic #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyū!! #haikyuu x female reader #kenma x female reader #fanfic #content creator #romance smau #streaming #youtuber au #haikyuu au #kodzuken x reader #hq kenma #kenma imagines #kozume x reader #social media #alternate universe

[ak-vintage]

Quarry (Series Master List)

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn romance, minimal descriptors of reader character, dual POV, canon-typical violence, sexual tension, light angst, mutual pining, SMUT (Each chapter will have specific warnings, please check them before reading!)

Status: Ongoing

Read on AO3

Main Story

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9 - Part 1

Chapter 9 - Part 2

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Oneshots

Coming soon...

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din djarin smut #pedro pascal characters

[justfangirlstuffs]

THE FINAL CHAPTER IS HERE AT LAST!!!

Story summary: You are just a humble tinkerer of animatronics trying to make their way in a city that doesn't care if you live or die. However, two infamous mob bosses have taken a rather keen interest in your skills, making your life a little more complicated than you'd like. Sun and Moon are determined to have you under their rule, but you won't bow so easily.

Chapter summary: It all comes to a head, and you're caught smack dab in the center of it.

#fnaf sundrop #fnaf moondrop #sun x y/n #sun x reader #moon x y/n #moon x reader #celestial tinkerer #mafia au #mob boss sun and moon #police chief eclipse #private eye bonnie #ennard #sleuth jesters #syzygy in dedication #tw gun #cw guns

[dindjarindiaries]

The Mandalorian Seasons 1 & 3: Direct Parallels

After rewatching The Mandalorian season 3 cohesively and thinking back to season 1, I came upon a realization that every episode of season 3 somehow directly parallels back to each respective episode of season 1. Below is a breakdown going episode-by-episode and diving deep into each parallel I noticed. Please keep in mind that these are my observations and theories, nothing more!

CHAPTER 1: THE MANDALORIAN & CHAPTER 17: THE APOSTATE

“Chapter 1: The Mandalorian” is all about setting up Din Djarin’s journey, mainly the job he’s tasked with that causes him to cross paths with a new ally, Grogu. “Chapter 17: The Apostate”—like many season openers—accomplishes the same thing: setting up Din’s journey and causing him to cross paths with a reluctant ally, Bo-Katan Kryze. IG-11 is an important part of each episode and helps to bring some comedic relief to the screen. In Chapter 1, Din utters the infamous “I like those odds” line when his odds are 4 to 1. Din also finds himself with 4 to 1 odds during the pirate showdown, where he takes down four of them and leaves Vane standing. Lastly, Chapter 1 reveals that the job Din’s taken is a very difficult one that other hunters either can’t complete or refuse to. Chapter 17 proves that Din’s journey to Mandalore is also seemingly impossible and many others refuse to do it.

CHAPTER 2: THE CHILD & CHAPTER 18: THE MINES OF MANDALORE

“Chapter 2: The Child” seals the bond between Din and Grogu as Din faces trials in his journey to bringing Grogu back to Nevarro. “Chapter 18: The Mines of Mandalore” seals the bond between Din and Bo-Katan as allies while Din faces trials in his journey to redemption on Mandalore. In both episodes, Grogu has to rescue Din when he’s in danger, and both times he tries to use the Force to do so. Each episode also features Din fighting off an ambush on his own, though that tends to be pretty common for him. Both episodes also featured a creature that hasn’t been seen in Star Wars live action before: the mudhorn and the Mythosaur, respectively. By the end of each of these episodes, Din’s gained at least one new ally and has accomplished his original goal (getting Grogu back to Nevarro and earning his redemption).

CHAPTER 3: THE SIN & CHAPTER 19: THE CONVERT

“Chapter 3: The Sin” and “Chapter 19: The Convert” both see their protagonists going against a set of rules they’re expected to follow in order to further what they view as the greater good. In Chapter 3, it’s Din breaking the Guild Code to rescue Grogu. In Chapter 19, it’s Penn Pershing breaking the rules of the Amnesty Program to restart his research. Both episodes feature a betrayal of sorts, Greef Karga and Elia Kane respectively. Additionally, the Children of the Watch in both episodes—most notably Paz Vizsla—start both episodes off by being hostile towards Din only to end up helping him in some way. In Chapter 3, it was saving him and Grogu from the hunters, and in Chapter 19, it was accepting his redemption as well as Bo-Katan’s. Each episode title also uses religious language.

CHAPTER 4: SANCTUARY & CHAPTER 20: THE FOUNDLING

“Chapter 4: Sanctuary” and “Chapter 20: The Foundling” each start off a 3-episode run of different adventures that fill in the storytelling space and offer the characters time to face trials and grow before the overall story starts to wrap up. In Chapter 4, Cara Dune mostly leads the effort to rescue the village. Bo-Katan fills this same role in Chapter 20 by leading the Mandalorians to rescuing the foundling. Interestingly enough, both these episodes also are some of the only to address how and when a Mandalorian should remove their helmets to eat. Chapter 4 offers some Din backstory that he gives to Omera while Chapter 20 offers some Grogu backstory. At the end of each episode, the rescues are complete, but another call to adventure haunts the protagonists.

CHAPTER 5: THE GUNSLINGER & CHAPTER 21: THE PIRATE

These two are probably the hardest to draw parallels on. “Chapter 5: The Gunslinger” starts with a dogfight, while “Chapter 21: The Pirate” features quite a long dogfight as well. Peli Motto was originally meant to appear in Chapter 21 and her introduction to the Star Wars galaxy was in Chapter 5. Fennec Shand tells Din of the Mandalorians’ fate on Nevarro in Chapter 5, but in Chapter 21, the Mandalorians are the ones taking down others on Nevarro. Each episode also leaves off on a cliffhanger that isn’t resolved by the next episode, with Chapter 5 featuring Boba Fett saving Fennec and Chapter 21 featuring the New Republic finding beskar within a destroyed shuttle.

CHAPTER 6: THE PRISONER & CHAPTER 22: GUNS FOR HIRE

This one has some of my favorite parallels, and for no good reason! In “Chapter 6: The Prisoner,” Din teams up with mercenaries he used to work for, while we see in “Chapter 22: Guns For Hire” that Axe Woves, Koska Reeves, and other Mandalorians have become their own band of mercenaries. Both episodes feature Din being very hostile towards droids, even more so than usual. They also both include notable cameos, Bill Burr and Matt Lanter for Chapter 6 and Lizzo, Jack Black, and Christopher Lloyd for Chapter 22. In Chapter 6, Din is against the side of the law, while in Chapter 22, Din is united with Bo-Katan on the side of the law. The end of Chapter 6 saw Ranzar Malk and Qin sharing some choice words about Din while the end of Chapter 22 saw Axe also sharing some choice words about Din. (It’s fun how similar these two episodes are to each other in my head!)

CHAPTER 7: THE RECKONING & CHAPTER 23: THE SPIES

“Chapter 7: The Reckoning” and “Chapter 23: The Spies” each act as a part one of the overall grand finale of their respective seasons, with each ending on a devastating cliffhanger of a main supporting character’s tragic death. Both episodes start with a somewhat reluctant team-up of Din’s collected allies to continue a journey. Each episode is also Moff Gideon’s first appearance in their respective seasons, with both featuring Moff Gideon’s holographic image on a call before his actual physical appearance. Both episodes see the groups venturing across a desolate landscape to get to where they need to go only to get led into an ambush. In Chapter 7, it’s Grogu who gets captured by Gideon, while in Chapter 23, it’s Din who gets captured by Gideon. Additionally, each episode has peril in which allies cannot be contacted by comms. Lastly, as referenced before, Chapter 7 ends with Kuiil’s tragic death, and Chapter 23 ends with Paz’s.

CHAPTER 8: REDEMPTION & CHAPTER 24: THE RETURN

“Chapter 8: Redemption” and “Chapter 24: The Return” both end on a hopeful and somewhat peaceful note for Din and Grogu with a brand-new call to action. In Chapter 8, Moff Gideon blows up Din, while in Chapter 24, Moff Gideon gets blown up. Grogu protects Din and his allies from fire in both Chapter 8 as well as Chapter 24. In Chapter 8, the Armorer tells Din he is as Grogu’s father, while in Chapter 24, Din officially adopts Grogu as his son. Din earns a mudhorn signet for Grogu in Chapter 8 and Grogu earns part of Din’s name in Chapter 24. IG-11 sacrifices himself in Chapter 8, but comes back to life to serve as the marshal of Nevarro in Chapter 24. Both episodes contain big battle scenes that eventually lead to an entire planet being liberated. Chapter 8 features the Darksaber’s first appearance in live action, while Chapter 24 features the destruction of that same weapon. Finally, Chapter 8 sees Din and Grogu leaving Nevarro, but Chapter 24 sees Din and Grogu staying there in a home of their own.

#and this is why i love the mandalorian #is most of this just me reaching and being delusional? perhaps. perhaps #but as a season 1 girlie and a season 3 lover i will gladly go down this route #the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian season 1 #the mandalorian season 3 #din djarin

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

Happy Thursday y'all! It's been a while since I gave an update on the Dancing with the Stars Dieter fic, Closed Position.

As mentioned before, I do not plan to fully dive into this fic and start posting until Destiny & Deliverance has been completed. However, there is only one chapter and the epilogue left (I'm not ready). Since, it's not that far off...I have started working on my outline for dancing Dieter. More below the cut. 👇

I have it planned out fairly well, so I am sharing my chapter list with you today. This could change slightly when I start digging in, but this is the format I'm going with:

Prologue

Introductions

Week 1 - Foxtrot

Week 2 - Cha Cha

Week 3 - Jive

Week 4 - Rumba

Week 5 - Argentine Tango

Week 6 - Paso Doble

Week 7 - Jazz

Week 8 - Viennese Waltz

Week 9 - Quickstep

Week 10 - Samba

Week 11 - Finale

Epilogue

I've been doing a ton of homework on the show, so I plan to incorporate a lot of crazy behind the scenes stuff that actually happens and makes for an entertaining plot. Anyone down for a weekly spray tan? No? Dieter isn't a fan either.

This fic will not be anywhere near as angsty as D & D. However, some tough topics are mentioned, mostly relating to Kat's (OFC) asshole ex who will be very present as another professional dancer on the show. Then of course, Dieter's issues with drugs and alcohol are discussed too. He will be sober in this fic, but early on in his journey. Still very much our loveable, hot mess trash panda though.

I would like to do a lot more extras with this fic. I plan to share some inspiration videos for each chapter so you will have a visual of the dances. I think it will help you understand what ultimately causes Dieter and Kat to fall for each other. If nothing else, the visuals are just hot AF.

There will be a lot of Latin dances, just because we have to show off Dieter's loose hips. You know there are going to be jokes about that. I feel like it's a good excuse to take Dieter's button allergy up a few notches too. 😏 Here is a sexy little Rumba video to get us started. This dance may or may not be the one that gets them in trouble...🤐

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo was looking to change his bad boy image and clean up his act after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dance partner to one of Hollywood’s biggest stars to go the same as it had for the past nine seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

If you would like to be added to my taglist for this fic, feel free to comment below or shoot me a message and I will get you added.

Tagging all my usuals. If this isn't a fic you would like to be tagged on, let me know and I will remove you. 😉

@rhoorl @chaoticfestninja @survivingandenduring @partyofone3413 @wannab-urs @cakipy-blog @titlee78 @poodlebae @guelyury @missladym1981 @maried01 @alokaerza @samiamproductions @misstokyo7love @themonadiaries-blog @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @avastrasposts @weho2kcmo @harriedandharassed @tkchaos @girlofchaos @yghuibt @musings-of-a-rose @secretelephanttattoo @maggiemayhemnj @legendary-pink-dot @linzels-blog @morallyinept @undercoverpena @sin-djarin @trulybetty @goodwithcheese @jazzloveslatte @timpletance @myloveistoolittle @annieispunk @bitchwitch1981 @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @for-a-longlongtime @hisandsnakes @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @copperhalfcent

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #dancing dieter #closed position teaser #closed position series #Youtube

[feelbokkie]

One Last Dance | Chapter 15

pairing: Minho x fem reader

genre: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, major character death (I am apologizing now), friends to lovers, soul mates, first love, roommates

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: suggestive (well I mean more than suggestive but it's not smut), mention of food, swearing, non consensual kissing (twice!)

summary: Childhood best friends Lee Minho and L/n Y/n are in their final year of university. While both of them are in love with each other, the only thing keeping them apart is Minho’s fear of change. As both dancers prepare for their lives after college, will Minho finally let fear rule him and his emotions or will he finally gain courage before he loses Y/n forever?

word count: 6,168

screenshot count: 11

taglist: closed!

previous | masterlist | next

©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

In hindsight, you should have told Chan that you wanted to have a more low-key celebration. Maybe at a nice, quiet restaurant. Or even movies and ice cream. Things, you're now realizing, that you'd do with Minho whenever something good happened in your lives. Minho passed an English test? Ice cream. You nailed a particularly difficult dance routine? Lunch at a restaurant you like. The two of you got into your dream school? Celebratory trip to Lotte World.

Chan, on the other hand, appeared to like more flashy forms of celebration. He brought you to a bar, which you might as well consider to be a club. The music is way too loud, you can feel the beats in your chest. The lights are too dark to be considered safe. And while you weren't opposed to the idea of hanging out in a bar, you work at one and don't like the idea of spending your night off with drunken idiots after a week of doing so.

"Sorry, what was that?" You shout over the music. Chan has been trying to hold a conversation with you but you can't hear him over the music.

Changbin, who sits on your left, is making out with some girl he met within the first 10 minutes of you guys getting to the bar. Jisung is at the bar, talking to two girls who look like they're already too drunk to be having any sort of meaningful conversation. Chan brought them along so it would feel "more like a celebration." Right now it just feels like another pointless party.

Chan's arm snakes around your waist, resting his hand on your upper thigh. He pulls himself closer to you than he already is. The scent of his cologne and the soda he is drinking fills your nose. He smells good, familiar. Like the practice room after class as all the guys quickly spray themselves before leaving. But something is missing.

"I was just asking if you knew which offer you were going to take yet?" Chan lowers his head so he's talking directly in your ear.

"Not sure yet," You lean in close to his ear, "I have to sit there and think about each company. Plus looking at how much they're offering me wouldn't hurt. I still have a few months before graduation so there isn't a huge rush right now."

Chan pushes your drink closer to you. Chan is the only one not drinking, taking his responsibilities as designated driver seriously. But as a result, he's been pushing you to drink. So that you can "drink for the two of you" so to speak. You take your cup and take another large sip.

"If you choose the one in Australia, I can show you around. Like your own personal tour guide." He adds after you take a sip.

"Yeah? Show me your old haunts? And then to one of your infamous hook-up spots." You tease.

"I'm not like that Y/n. Honestly," He takes another sip of his soda, "you should have a bit more faith in me."

"You told me not too long ago that you were purposely blasting your music to get my attention. So, I have zero faith in you."

"Did it, or did it not work?" He asks after thinking for a moment.

"Running into me on a girls' night out while I was plastered worked. You playing your music that loud worked in getting through my auditions."

"Still, it worked because here you are." You think to yourself for a moment. He's not exactly wrong.

"Changbin hyung, come up for air!" Jisung says as he walks to the table with the two girls in tow. He sets down about 10 bottles of soju before sitting down in between both girls.

"Why!" Changbin whines loudly, making the girl he's making out with laugh.

"It's a celebration, let's play some drinking games." He adds as he passes out the bottles. Chan takes the bottle Jisung passed to him and places it in front of you.

"I'm driving," He tells Jisung.

"That's fine, just keep drinking your stupid soda." He throws back. He has to be a little drunk, you know he wouldn't talk to Chan like that otherwise out of fear of repercussions.

"Or noona can drink for him," Changbin adds. Chan turns to you with quirked eyebrows.

"Don't worry, I'm good at drinking games. Plus, I'm the only sober one here so I have an advantage."

You think for a moment. He is the only one who is completely clear-headed right now, even if you're feeling a bit buzzed. You probably wouldn't have to drink much anyway, you're relatively good at games in general.

"Yeah, okay," You hum.

***

It doesn't that Chan is good at playing drinking games, you are the absolute worst. You're beyond drunk and you're about to get drunk as you watch the shot glass of soju sink to the bottom of the beer glass.

"Drink, noona, drink!" Jisung yells as he slams a fist on the table.

"Wow, noona, you suck at drinking games." Changbin laughs as you pick up the glass and start drinking.

You're so drunk you can't hear a single thought in your head. It's like your conscience clocked out for the night and you were alone with your impulsive thoughts. You're leaning into Chan with your right hand resting on his thigh to keep yourself upright.

"'m shit a drinking games but I can out dance all of you. Let's have a dance battle right now!" You shout, standing up quickly. You immediately stumble from how fast you stand up and fall back down, landing in Chan's lap.

"Okay, I'm going to take Y/n for some fresh air," Chan says as he places both of his hands on your waist to help you up. He keeps his hands on you as he leads you out of the bar.

His grip on you is tight as he maneuvers you through the bar, past all the couples making out and hammered dancers. Eventually, the cool, fresh air hits your face, a sigh leaves your throat. You didn't realize how hot and stuffy it was inside the bar until right now. You were hot when you were inside, naturally, but you thought it was just the alcohol warming you up.

"Look at the moon!" You shout excited when you get outside. The moon is big and full.

"Wow, you really are drunk, huh." Chan laughs, still holding on to you.

"'m not drunk." You hum, twirling around in Chan's hands.

"I don't see how you're not. You drank about 5 bottles of soju by yourself. How you're still awake right now is a miracle."

"'m not a lightweight. Look, I can prove I'm not drunk." You wiggle out of Chan's grip and walk a little bit away from him.

You wink at Chan before managing to do 6 pirouettes. Just as you put your foot down to stabilize yourself again, you become dizzy and stumble. Before you can fall, you're suddenly in Chan's arms again. It feels nice, to be held in his arms, but it feels cold and unfamiliar. Not like Minho's warm and familiar hold.

"Okay, I believe you. Let's not do that again, okay?" He chuckles as he pulls you upright.

He walks you backward until your back is flat against the wall. Your head is still spinning so you grab his forearms to keep yourself from falling. As if it would help. You squeeze your eyes shut, slowly opening them only when you feel a little less dizzy. Your eyes focus on Chan's face illuminated by the back alley lights. On his hooded, yet soft brown eyes. The curve of his perfect nose. His soft pink lips.

"Has anyone told you that you're pretty?" You breathe.

"You think I'm...pretty?" Chan's mouth quirks upward into a smirk.

"Mhm!" You nod quickly at him.

Chan's hands leave your waist and move to the wall behind you, resting on either side of your head. He leans in closer to you, only stopping about halfway to your face.

"Am I still pretty?" He whispers. If your face isn't already red from drinking, it definitely is now.

Your breath gets caught in your throat. All you can do is nod in agreement. Chan smirks yet again and pulls in even closer. He's right in front of your face, his breath tickling your face.

"How about now?" His lips barely brush against yours.

"If...you get any closer 'm gonna get cross-eyed." You mumble.

"Is that a promise?" He whispers before pressing his lips into yours.

The sudden feel of Chan's lips on yours sobers you up a little bit. It's not unfamiliar, you've kissed him before under similar circumstances. You're drunk and heartbroken just like you were the first time. The only difference is, Chan's not drunk. Maybe he wasn't drunk the first time either. But something about this time feels...different. His lips are just as soft and desperate as you remember but they feel wrong. This feels wrong.

Chan's hands drop from the wall back down to your waist, slightly lifting your shirt. His touch feels hot against your skin, burning you almost. Chan pulls away from your lips and attaches himself to your neck, nipping at the soft skin and sucking. He slides one hand down, his thumb toying with the waistband of our jeans. His other hand moves to the small of your back. Each act seemingly wakes you up slowly, his touch still burning your skin.

Wrong. This is all wrong.

"Channie...stop," You whisper, trying to push him off.

"Hmm...?" He hums against your skin as he moves down to your collarbone.

"Chan, please stop."

"Why?"

You're not sure if it's your natural fight-or-flight instinct or something else entirely, but you can't stop yourself as your right knee quickly jerks upwards. Chan quickly pulls away from you and doubles over. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, trying to process everything that happened.

"What the fuck, Y/n?" Chan turns back to you, holding his stomach. You must have missed, but you still hit him hard enough.

"I told you to stop!"

"If you waited 2 seconds, I was going to." He grits through his teeth.

"You should have stopped the first time. This isn't...it's...you're not--" You stammer trying to find the right words. As you do, Minho's face pops into your head.

"I'm not who?"

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. Nothing is making sense. You didn't exactly hate Chan's touch or kiss. And you were starting to enjoy the night with Chan. And normally, drunk or not, you would have simply gone along with Chan, no matter how disgusting the back alley of the bar is. So why are you thinking about Minho?

"Are you serious, Y/n? You're thinking about him? Right now?" Chan scoffs, finally standing upright.

"I--I'm not!" You lie.

"Y/n, it's been months. He doesn't give a single fuck about you. Never has, never will. While you're rejecting the guy who's right in front of you, he's probably out fucking some girl he doesn't know the name of."

"Minho isn't like that." You shake your head again. Minho isn't like that.

Sure he can be cold at times, but that's when he's trying to hide how he's really feeling. He's the type of person who will drive down to your job at three in the morning, even after a day of classes and a full work shift just to make sure you get home safely. Sure, he'll complain about it the whole time, but you know he doesn't mean it. He's the type of person who will spend hours cooking you a meal he's never made before because you mentioned it once. He's the type of person who will give you his last pudding cup if you ask. And if you didn't he'd give you the first and last bite. He's the type of person who will learn your entire dance routine to help you figure out the one part you're struggling with. He's the type of person who will stay home with you when you're sick just so you're not alone. He's the type of person who cares. Always has been, and always will be.

"You really are fucking pathetic. You know that, right?" Chan says, cooly.

"What...?" Your breath escapes your throat, unsure where this new version of Chan is coming from. Your head swirling in confusion.

"I tried being nice. I tried being patient but there's no point. You're forever going to be hung up on a guy who doesn't care for you anymore. And I'm right here. Hell Changbin and Jisung are probably in line waiting for me to be done with you. But you know what? You're not worth it." Chan laughs.

"I...I don't understand. What's happening right now?" You rub your hands over your face as if that will help you sober up faster.

"You don't understand?" Chan walks closer to you, keeping his distance this time just in case. "Princess, I was only being nice to you so I could sleep with you. And I was going to toss you aside when I was done. But you're not worth all that effort. It's not fun anymore. You're all looks and no substance. I've fucked bimbos with more personality than you. And they're not still hung up over their--Well I'd say ex but you guys weren't even together."

"You're a dick," You spit.

"Maybe, but it's all good fun." He smirks. You've never wanted to hit someone more in your entire life

"Take me home, now." You quietly demand.

"Find a new way home. I'm going back inside to have some more fun." Chan leaves you standing there in disbelief in the alley, confused as to what just happened.

You hate to admit it, but he's right. Not entirely, but he's right. You are pathetic. You're hung up over a guy who would rather let you walk out of his life than be with you. You're holding out hope, for what? That one day he'll wake up and take everything back? Would you even go to him if he did? You're wasting time on him when you could be happier with someone who would be happy to be with you without any fear.

You crouch down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest. Today, you were meant to celebrate you and your accomplishments. Now, it's a complete shitshow and you can't help but wish Minho was there to comfort you. To stroke your hair and tell you how proud of you he is. To hug you and make you feel better. To make some dumb joke that would make you giggle. You need him, and you hate that you do. Hate that you allowed him to consume so much of your life. Even if Chan wasn't being a total asshat, you know that you would have pushed him away anyway for the simple fact that he's not Minho nor will he ever be. And for that, you hate yourself a little too.

***

"Ugh..." You groan as you wake up. Your head is pounding and the room is spinning. You can't even bear to open your eyes, scared of the light that you know is awaiting to burn your retinas the second you open them.

You lay there in silence for a moment, letting the cool air hit your face. You furrow your brows in confusion. Ma-Ri likes the room to be warm, so why is it ice cold? You slowly open your eyes, trying to minimize the burning sensation you know you're going to feel from the sunlight.

You blink a few times, allowing your eyes to adjust to the light. Still, with your eyes barely open, you look around the room. Everything begins to look familiar. The pictures on the walls. The hoodie slung over the desk chair. The organized mess on the dresser.

"What the hell...?" You mutter as you sit up.

You're in your room back at Minho's apartment. You're not entirely sure how or when you go here. The last thing you remember is arguing with Chan in the back alley of the bar.

"Whoever this is, you better be dying."

"I hate you,"

"Y/n?"

"I really, really hate you. You keep ruining everything for me. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Y/n, where are you right now?"

"I wish I never fell in love with you. I wish...I wish we never became friends in the first place"

"We'll talk about that later. Just tell me where--"

Click.

That's right, you called Minho last night while in your drunken state. He must have gotten worried and came to pick you up. Why he brought you back to the apartment and not the dorm is beyond you. You're not even sure how he got you home. If you called him just to tell him that you hate him, there's no way you willingly went home with him.

"Minho, put me down!"

"So you can be a brat and run away? No thank you,"

"Put me down, put me down, put me down!"

"Jesus, you're loud as hell-- Ow! Did you just bite my back?"

"Put. Me. Down!"

"You're never allowed to drink again."

...He carried you home like a sack of potatoes because you refused to go with him. You sit up and hold your head in your hand out of embarrassment. He came all the way to you in the middle of the night to take you home, and you acted like a brat.

"I'm never drinking again," you groan, regretting everything that happened last night, even the stuff you can't remember.

You slowly swing your legs over the side of your bed. Immediately, as you start to get up, you notice something is off. You look down at your clothes and notice you’re wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts.

“C’mon, put your arms up,” 

“I’m sorry,”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I shouldn’t have been carrying you like that.”

“Yeah, but I threw up! That’s not cute,”

“You threw up and you’re worried about looking cute?”

“Don’t laugh at me, asshole.”

“Okay, okay. Here, put your shorts on yourself, I’ll go get you a toothbrush and some mouthwash.”

If there was ever a moment for a whole to open up and swallow you whole, now would be the time. Why, why did you have to call Minho? For all you know, he thinks you're spiraling even though you've been doing just fine without him. He had to come to your rescue on your one off day.

You slowly walk over to your closet to find something to walk home in. If you're quiet enough, you might be able to leave without running into Minho or the cats. You know that if you run in Soonie, Doongie, or Dori, you're going to want to stay and cuddle with them. Hopefully, they're sleeping in Minho's room with him. In your closet, you find your favorite pair of sweatpants and and the matching hoodie. You grab a random shirt and get dressed as quickly as the pounding in your head will allow.

After you get dressed, you scan the room, looking for your phone, student ID, and key to Ma-Ri's dorm. You find them on your bedside table. Your phone is charging and faced down with your ID in the case and key attached to the case. Sitting right next to your things, a bottle of water and two aspirins. You let out a deep sigh and take the pills, silently thanking MInho.

You take the bottle of water with you as you quietly leave the room, looking back one last time to see if there is anything you want to take back with you. Your eyes fall on your half of the seashell necklace at your desk. You contemplate taking it for a moment, before closing your door. You slowly close the door, being careful to not make too much noise. Once you turn around, you lock eyes with Doongie, who is sitting on the arm of the couch,

"Fuck," you mutter under your breath.

Doongie hops off the arm of the chair and walks towards you. Doonige begins to purr as he walks between your legs, pressing his body against you. You bite your bottom lip and look up at the ceiling. There is nothing more that you want to do than to pick him up and hug him. But you know you can't you don't have time. Soonie and Dori come from their hiding places and start meowing at you, being more vocal than you remember them being.

"I know, I know. I miss you too but I really need you guys to--"

"Guys, I know you're excited but mom needs to--Oh, you're awake. Minho walks into the living room in an apron, holding a wooden spoon. The front of his hair is up in a ponytail with one of your clips that he stole. Stole is too aggressive. You clipped his bangs up for him during a dance practice because it was frustrating him and he never gave it back.

"I...I am. Thank you for picking me up...and taking care of me. I need to get going." You say quickly, averting your eyes.

"Wait, don't leave yet. I made you haejang-guk." He says quickly, putting his hands up as you start to walk away.

"You made me haejang-guk?" Your head tilts to the side.

"I figured you could use something in your stomach after last night. Eat some before you run away again."

Ba dump. Ba dump.

The idea of Minho waking up early just to make you hangover soup makes your heart skip a beat. It's not a complicated recipe, a fairly simple one. But you also know that when Minho cooks for someone, it's a labor of love. And for that, your heart is a little hopeful.

"Yeah, sure," You nod.

The two of you quietly walk to the dining room. You sit in your usual spot like usual, not thinking much of it until Minho freezes for a second, staring at you with a small smile as he brings you out a bowl of soup. You silently thank him and wait for him to come back with his own bowl out of habit. Once he's back, he gestures for you to start eating.

You pick up the spoon and blow on it for a second before putting the cooled spoon in your mouth. The saltiness of the soup hits your tongue, quickly ridding your mouth of that nauseating bitter aftertaste you were starting to notice. The heat from the soup starts to warm up your body. It's hard to explain, but Minho's cooking reminds you of home. His cooking tastes nothing like your mother's, but it feels like home. You're more homesick for him than you are for your parents.

"How's your head?" He asks, breaking the silence.

"Better," You take another spoonful of soup and quickly swallow/ "Thanks for the aspirin."

"No need to thank me. I know how cranky you can get when you're not feeling well. I did it for Ma-Ri's sake." He teases.

It feels almost normal, sitting here eating breakfast with Minho. Like you haven't been ignoring him for the past couple of months. Going home for the holidays was difficult. You two almost got into a fight on Christmas morning in front of your parents when you opened one of your gifts from Minho to find your half of the scallop shell made into a necklace. And now the two of you are being civil as you eat soup. Maybe you're too tired and hungover to fight right now.

"I have a question," Minho asks again.

"What?"

"How does Ma-Ri sleep with your snoring?"

"I don't snore. You know I don't snore."

"Must be new. You were snoring last night." Miho smirks.

"How would you know that I was snoring last ni--"

"Minho, wait,"

"What's wrong?"

"Can you stay with me?"

"I don't know that's a good idea."

"Please?"

"Y/n,"

"What...What if I throw up again? I could asphyxiant."

"Don't roll over then. I put you on your side for a reason."

"Minho, please. Just this once."

"...Fine. But only until you fall asleep."

Seriously, you're never drinking again. You put your spoon down and hold your head in your hands just as Minho starts laughing. You let out a pained groan at your stupidity. How could drunk you abandon your morals like that?

"I probably only snored because I was so drunk." You mumble as you pick your spon back up and start to eat your soup again.

"Surn,"

"Minho," You set your hand on the table, "Why are you being nice to me?"

"We'll talk after breakfast," He says quickly.

"I'm going home after I finish eating." You watch as Minho's face slightly twists when you say home because he knows you don't mean the apartment.

You watch as Minho's eyes shift up like they normally do when he's thinking. Like the thoughts are written on his brain and he is trying to physically see it. Cute.

"Y/n," He says suddenly.

"Yes?" You quirk your eyebrow at him.

"Let's talk," He places his spoon down on the table.

"Are we not already talking?"

"No--I mean yes, we are--but that's not what I mean." You watch in confusion as Minho starts to get flustered.

"Min?"

"None of this is how I planned it but something tells me that I'm not going to get another choice."

"Another chance for what?"

"Y/n," Minho sits up a little straighter in his seat. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for telling you that we should pretend that we had a one-night stand after we slept together. I'm sorry for being a coward for all these years and hiding my feelings from you. And I'm sorry--"

"Min, breathe." You say as Minho speaks fast, not taking a single breath.

"Sorry, it's just-- I love you, Y/n. I am truly, madly, deeply in love with you. And these past couple of months without you have been hell. I need you in my life. And I want to be with you, and I mean really be with you. Even if it scares me. Especially if it does." Minho stares at you, maintaining eye contact with you. There's a twinkle in his eyes, determination maybe.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment. Minho waits for your response, feeling as if he's said everything I was able to. You, on the other hand, process everything that just happened. You can't help but let out a small laugh.

"Why...are you laughing?" Minho asks, his voice laced with concern and fear.

"Because you have shit timing." You explain as you set down your spoon.

"What do you mean?" He tilts his head as he stares at you.

"I love you too, and if you asked me months ago, I would have asked for this exact scenario."

"I need context, I can't guess. You know I’m not a mind reader."

“I’m not going the be here in a few months.” You say simply, unsure of how to explain. Or if you should even try to.

“Neither am I. We’re graduating.”

“No I mean,” You take a second to let out a sigh, “I don’t want to go back home and run the dance studio. That’s always been more your thing than mine. I want to travel and being in Japan last summer made me realize that. I spent most of the school year auditioning for overseas companies. And I got a few offers."

"Oh," Minho's expression drops to an unreadable one.

"And judging by that reaction, you're not going to be able to handle a long-distance relationship."

You pick up your bowl and quickly drink the rest of your soup. Once you're done, you use your spoon to scoop the leftover veggies from the soup and shove them in your mouth before quickly standing up. Soonie, Doongie, and Dori come out from under the table and follow you as you walk towards the front door.

"Y/n, wait! Let's talk about this." You hear Minho's chair fall to the floor as he quickly gets up and rushes to you.

"You've been so scared of me leaving all these years. Wouldn't me moving away after a little over 2 months of dating be the same thing for you? Can you honestly tell me that you wouldn't start panicking once I'm gone?" You turn back to face Minho, who is standing about three feet from you.

He stands there puzzled, unable to answer. Or, he knows the answer and is unwilling to share it with you. Both of you know deep down that it'd be difficult for him, that his fear would settle in and he'd up breaking up with you. Or maybe that's your own fear and it's just easier to project that onto him.

What's wrong with you? You've wanted nothing more than to date Minho since you two were 15. And now that he finally got over his fears, you shut it down. Maybe you were a little grateful over the years for not being with Minho. That being near him was enough. But now that the opportunity to be with him, fully and deeply, you're terrified. You've spent years making fun of Minho for being a coward, but at the end of the day, you're just like him.

"That's what I thought. Maybe it's better we stay friends." You open the door and hesitate leaving Minho for a second time. "I wish you had this epiphany sooner. Maybe we would have had a chance."

You pause the music and let out a frustrated groan. For some reason,y you can't nail one of the moves in your routine. It's making you want to rip all of your hair out. It's a simple move, you've done it before in other routines, but for some reason, you can't hit it now and it's pissing you off.

You don't look up when you hear the door to the practice room open, too focused on the dance tutorial on your phone, hoping to see if there is anything you can do differently to hit the move and call it for the day.

"I still have this room for another hour," You call out, not looking up to see who walked into the practice room.

Still focused on the video, you don't notice that the door doesn't open again. You don't notice the rapid footsteps that make their way to you. Nothing you feel two hands cup your face and lips press to yours. You freeze for a second, alarmed by the sudden touch until you see that it's Minho kissing you. Your eyes slowly close as your heart begins to pound in your chest. It's a simple kiss, not going past his lips touching your lips, but it's enough to make you melt into his touch. His calloused fingers rough against your skin. Your hands find their way to the front of his shirt, barely gripping the fabric between your fingers.

After what feels like an eternity, Minho finally pulls away. Your eyes remain closed, afraid of opening them and Minho disappearing. Your grip tightens on Minho's shirt as you slowly open your eyes. You blink a couple of times to make sure he's really there and you're not dreaming. With each blink, Minho's serious face stares back at you.

"What…what the fuck was that?" You whisper. Minho's simple kiss seems to have taken away your voice.

"I don't care," Minho says softly.

"Excuse me?" Your grip loosens on Minho's shirt.

"I don't care that you're leaving. Go, live your dream, I'll be here. I just want to be with you. And if that means I can't physically be with you, I'm okay with that. I did some thinking. I'm perfectly okay with being long-distance with you. I just want to be with you. I'm tired of being scared."

Minho's hopeful eyes, stare into your confused ones. Realization and hope settle into you the longer Minho is quiet. He means it, truly. You can tell. You've known him long enough to know that he does. You can feel his hands shake against your face in anticipation. Part of you wonders if he can feel your heart pounding. You can feel your heart banding against your ribcage in every inch of your body.

"I'm going to be living overseas." You whisper slowly.

"Did I break your brain?" Minho laughs, "I told you, I don't care. I can come visit you. Or, I can move with you. I can find work as a dance teacher anywhere."

You shake your head, gripping his shirt so tight you're almost certain that you're stretching out the soft blue cotton.

"No, taking over the studio back home is your dream. It always has been. I can't let you give that up." You say firmly.

"No, you're my dream. Always has and always will be. I wanted to run the dance studio with you because I wanted to be with you, not because I love the studio. As long as I'm near you, I'm happy. I don't care where we are."

Minho looks down with downcast eyes, slowly losing hope the longer you take to reply. You love him, with your whole body and soul. You want nothing more than to be with him, so why are you hesitating? You know you've always held a special place in Minho's heart. But how do you know that this isn't just his anxiety talking? What if you two start dating and he says that it was a mistake again? Like he did after you two slept together. How can you truly know that he loves you in the way that you love? The way that you want--no need?

"Y/n?" Minho whispers.

"Yeah?" You whisper back, closing your eyes.

"I first fell in love with you during Dream a Little Dream of Me." He says suddenly.

"My jazz solo from when we were twelve?" You cock your head to the side in confusion.

"It was your first dance solo. And you placed. First place to be exact."

"I remember,"

"Do you want to know what I remember?" Minho's hands slide down from your face down to your waists and just rest there.

"What?"

"I remember watching you struggle with the routine for weeks before the competition. Hell, I was worried, I thought you weren't going to nail it in time. You even refused my help and didn't hang out with me in our free time between school and our extracurriculars. I remember you getting yelled at by the instructor because you were struggling so much. And I remember you walking on that stage the day of the competition and I was in awe of you. I remember standing in the wings waiting for you, ready to comfort you just in case something went wrong. I remember that pale blue dress and the way it sparkled under the stage lights. I remember how gracefully you danced on stage and thinking you were just like a butterfly. I knew that I always wanted to be there to experience you in all your glory. I knew in that moment, you were it. You're still it for me, I don't want to be with anyone else."

You remember that competition. Jazz wasn't your strongest dance style but your coach had faith in you. You'd practice in all of your free time to make sure you got the routine down perfectly. As tiresome as it was, that was the same time you decided to take dance seriously and pursue it professionally.

"That…that was twelve years ago." Your voice cracks, tears welling in your eyes.

"I've loved you for twelve years. And I'll love you for twelve more. And twelve years after that. I'll love you in multiples of twelve for all of eternity. Until death do us part, and even then I'll still love you beyond death. Like I said, you're it for me."

You bite your bottom lip, the butterflies in your stomach doing somersaults. If he didn't feel your heart pounding before, he surely can hear it now. Something in you tells you to trust him. The same thing in you that's always told you to trust him, even when that trust was baseless.

"And you're it for me," You pull on Minho's shirt, bringing him closer to you. His lips crash into yours, you can feel his lips turn into a smile as you both decide to trust that everything is going to be alright.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Taglist

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@amyyscorner @aaasia111 @weird-bookworm @allaboutyej8 @kangaracharacha @lilcutieana @jungkookies1002 @lanatheawesome @hanniemylovelyquokka @jiisungllvr @marked-unknown @kitheat @spearb-99 @chlodavids @veedoesntknaur @yongbbokkie @warlockwithoutcharisma @fennecnco @aslou  @babygirlsuna @jihanlovic @kalopsian-thoughts @reianagarcia @sunshinessky  @brain-empty-only-draken @f9clementine  @jaydebow @phtogravi @mal-lunar-28 @jhstayy

#feelbokkie writes #one last dance smau #stray kids #skz #stray kids smau #skz smau #chan #bangchan #bang chan #lee know #minho #lee minho #changbin #seo changbin #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #han #jisung #han jisung #felix #yongbok #lee felix #lee yongbok #lee felix yongbok #seungmin #kim seungmin #i.n #jeongin #minho smau

[simjyun]

BETWEEN THE LINES !

PAIRING. lee heeseung x reader

SYNOPSIS. college was great, fun even. i mean who wouldn’t like to live the typical free-spirited college life? but what wasn’t fun was waking up to pictures of you and the infamous frat boy, lee heeseung, kissing at a party you attended. two words— you’re fucked.

GENRE. angst, college au, smau, crack/humor, fluff (?)

WARNINGS. suggestive/mature themes (no smut), swearing, drinking, kys jokes

FEATURING. purplekiss dosie, wei daehyeon, &team nicholas, enhypen!hyung line

DISCLAIMER. ages are altered to fit the story!!

A/N. im back!! i’ve been thinking about starting up a new series ever since yours truly so here it is!

STATUS. …ongoing! (updated once a week)

++ pls send an ask to be in the taglist!!

𓆩♡𓆪 — CHAPTERS

..profiles !

001 | 002

..chapters !

00. prologue

01. i was drunk

02. ease up

03. learn to love it

04. mean girl

05. god she’s hot (written)

06. its called networking

07. was that towards me

08. she pisses me off

09. sign of delusion

10. the cycle begins

11. who is she

12.

#enhypen imagines #enhypen smau #enhypen angst #heeseung #heeseung angst #heeseung smau #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung angst #lee heeseung imagines

[lumidotexe]

The masterpost for Even Rainfall Has Shadows, a Lego Monkie Kid Fan comic. STORY SUMMARY: Sent on a mission by her brother to hunt down the infamous Monkey King, tigress demon Hu Ru Daxian bands together with the Six-Eared Macaque and a celestial crane named An Hè in hopes of bringing him down once and for all. 

This story is recommended for ages 15+. It will contain some language, death, violence (no gore), depictions of slavery, mild suggestiveness, and abuse. I will put trigger warnings before the pages. It is an oc x canon story as well so dont read it if thats not ur cup of tea 👍

Even Rainfall has Shadows

CHAPTER 1 - When the Mountain Threatens CHAPTER 2 - To Trap a Soul CHAPTER 3 - From the City CHAPTER 4 - Hopelessness CHAPTER 5 - Plays CHAPTER 6 - An Act CHAPTER 7 - To Facade CHAPTER 8 - The Guilt that Feeds CHAPTER 9 - Her Doubts CHAPTER 10 - The Butterflies CHAPTER 11 - In the Flood (panneling)

Extras

Official Discord Server (reccomended for ages 15+) ERHS Merch Store! Q&A for the ERHS cast Author FAQ Meet the Artist Open Commissions Kofi (for early acess WIPS/pages!) Patreon (for early acess WIPS/pages!) 4K/HD Page Download Drive (still updating) Wallpaper Stills (still updating) An He's Song

Animations

Not Thinking Straight | MacaRu LMK Animation Macaque and Ru flirting Animation ERHS Fanmade Animation Animating Ru into LMK Scene

Other Art

Anime-Mac Style Comic If ERHS met Kung Fu Panda MacaRu cuddling eachother as plushies Consent Minicomic Streetwear Ru Design Mac feeling Ru kiss his clones Consent is Hot Minicomic Ru in a Macaque sweater MacaRu at the Beach Mac n Ru Post-training Flirting 101 Mac x Ru Fanfic If Ru was Mac's stunt trainer Road to El Dorado AU

Playlists

Ru Daxian Playlist An He Playlist Macaque x Ru playlist MacaRu Alt Playlist (by @runningwithscizzorz) If ERHS had a movie soundtrack An He Villain AU Playlist

References

Hu Ru Daxian An Hé

#lego monkie kid #lmk #monkie kid #six eared macaque #hu ru daxian #ru daxian #lego monkie kid fanart #macaque #lmk art #lmk fanart #lmk macaque #lmk oc #lmk oc art #macaque fanart #monkie kid sona #macaru #shadow dumpling #evenrainfallhasshadows #ERHS

[0310s]

feline (mis)adventures at apartment 11!

౨ৎ a multipart series featuring seventeen... and cats 🐈

summary:

౨ৎ a series revolving around the lives of seventeen members and you, currently living at apartment complex 11 with your pet cat. lots of adventures and (mis)adventures to come!

chapters:

౨ৎ one — feline (mis)adventures with 11h (lee jihoon)

everyday, your cat disappeared from your apartment from morning until noon. he had meowed to you convincingly (well, it didn't take that much convincing as you were helpless to the whims of your kitty) that he deserved some outdoor time as he left for god knows where. like clockwork, he slipped out of your apartment from 6AM until he returned at the same time. until one day, your cat was nowhere to be found hours after noon. terrified out of your mind, you knocked on all your neighbors' doors only to find...?

౨ৎ two — feline (mis)adventures with 11c (jeon wonwoo)

hallway boy who lived across your unit was cute. to your cat, not you (that was what you chanted to yourself in denial). every time you caught each other in the corridor between your units, your cat lost ability of all her limbs and flopped to the floor, begging for crumbs of attention from hallway boy, who easily gave it to her. you were not about to fall for hallway boy whose name you didn't know after a year of corridor encounters just because he had charmed his way into the heart your infamously haughty kitty!

౨ৎ three — feline (mis)adventures with 11a (choi hansol)

was is you or was your cat getting chonkier? you had kept her on the same diet for a year and she had adjusted without any fuss. but you were pretty sure the meal plan you chose was the healthiest it could get. it couldn't have to do with your neighbor, vernon, catless cat lover, who your cat visited everyday... right? the same vernon who you coincidentally harbored a crush on for years. right?

౨ৎ four — feline (mis)adventures with 11f (lee seokmin)

you had for the life of you no idea why seokmin was so adamant on befriending your cat even when he had these horrible cat allergies. as fellow college course mates hunting for cheap places to stay, you had finally rented similar units in the same apartment complex. it's been two years since then and seokmin still made an effort to befriend your cranky senior kitty (he was always going to be a baby to you) despite all his sneezing and sniffling. you had no idea why, but you were were going to try your damn best to ignore your burgeoning feelings... because you definitely had a thing for dudes who loved cats.

taglist:

౨ৎ to be added to the taglist for the entire series, kindly reply to this post!

#seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #svt x y/n #svt x you #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt fluff #woozi x reader #vernon x reader #wonwoo x reader #dk x reader #woozi imagines #vernon imagines #wonwoo imagines #dk imagines