#final note: all this did is make me love IVE more and make me even more mad i didn’t get to see them live when they were on the west coast | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

exitpursuedbyavulcan · 5 months ago

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What is Broken IV (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader) FINALE

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: traumatic childbirth, blood, semi-suicidal thoughts, Aemond is fantasizing about murder again, all the angst

Point of View: Limited third person omniscient

Author's Note: I don't understand why, but thanks so much for all the support I've gotten from this horribly angsty fic! This is my first go at angst so I really appreciate it. I'm gonna work on two happy-ish fic chapters before I get started on When It Breaks, but it's coming...

And a huge, enourmous thanks to @ewanmitchellcrumbs and @ripdragonbeans for being my betas for this! I was so anxious about getting this absolutely right and they were so kind and encouraging. Love yall forever 💜💜💜

Taglist is done via reblogs

Series Masterlist

What is Broken

She was so light, his ābrazȳrītsos.

Even while carrying their children – their sons – Aemond swore she was lighter than when he left. He held her close to his chest, her head resting on his shoulder and her legs draped over his forearm. With every step, he could feel more of the liquid that had spilled from her womb - now mixed with small, hateful tendrils of blood - dampening his sleeve.

Gods, how much blood had he seen in the past year? How much had he spilled himself? There had even been times when he reveled in its metallic tang. But the sight of her blood was nothing less than abhorrent.

He ran faster, until he could not make out the faces of those he passed, shouting for a Maester to be sent to their chambers immediately. One of them must be a servant. With luck, the Maester would already be there when they arrived.

She cried out as he began to ascend the stairs, wincing with each step, her weak grip on him tightening. “It hurts, Aemond.”

“I know, my love.” He slowed down, though his pounding heart urged him to do just the opposite. “I’m so sorry. The maester will be here soon, and he’ll help you feel better, hmm?”

“He has to stop it. It’s too early,” her voice cracked, and Aemond’s heart with it. “They’re not ready!”

But it couldn’t be stopped, not by man or gods. Their children would be born today. The only question was whether they would survive. If their mother would survive. Her poor body was so weak, and her heart… he had broken that, too.

If any of them died today, that blood would be on his hands, and he would gladly accept his damnation to the worst of the seven hells.

“Come now,” he chided gently as they reached the corridor to their chambers. “Our sons are dragons – they will be strong. And so will you, ābrazȳrītsos.”

“Sons?” She lifted her head, her entire body trembling with the effort it took. Her eyes – those beautiful eyes now gilded by the setting sun outside the windows – locked with his. “How… you sound so sure.”

Just one more lie. One more, and then he would never lie to her again.

Besides, this lie was small, nearly inconsequential. Many fathers insisted that their children would be sons until the child itself proved them wrong. It would be so easy for her to believe. The truth would hurt her – perhaps weaken her further. Aemond did not want her to hear Alys’ name. She should never have to even think of that witch ever again.

But he could not bring himself to do it. He could not sully the birth of his sons with yet another lie. He pushed their door open with a shoulder, never breaking her gaze. “Alys told me after you left. Before… she had a vision of us holding our sons. I’m so sorry, love.”

She slumped again, her face dropping into the curve of his neck. Once, she kissed him there, slept with her head tucked there. Now, it was simply where her head lolled. “I’m glad it’s sons. You’ll have two heirs…”

Her words were cut short by a gasp of pain, but Aemond heard it clearly. It echoed in his very bones. So if I live, you’ll have no more need of me. The gods had just crumbled the ground beneath him, his heart and soul with it. He was falling, falling, falling…

“I am glad, too.” He set her down gently in the bed, brushing away several tangles of hair stuck to her sweaty brow before arranging the pillows around her, hoping he was adequately managing to hide his devastation. For he could not bear to be without her, could not bear to love her only from a distance. He would go mad. Yet he would happily accept that horrible fate if it meant he would not lose her to the Stranger. “Mother will be, as well.”

“Mother!” She tried to rise, but he held her softly to the bed. “I can’t do this without Mother, Aemond. We must return home immediately!”

“I am afraid that is not an option, Princess.” Maester Artos stood just within the doorway, maids and Septas streaming in behind him. He was a mountain of a man, better suited to the battlefield than the birthing bed. But he was good at what he did – very good. Aemond had seen him work miracles on men who should have never survived their injuries.

The moment the women began attending to his wife, he approached the Maester, speaking quietly so as not to frighten her. “Something is wrong, Artos, she is bleeding. And she’s very weak.”

Artos hardly acknowledged him, looking only at the princess lying in the bed. “The blood is not the problem. She is distressed and too thin.” He stated, as cold and clinical as all other Maesters.

“Yes, I know that already.” Aemond took a shaky, calming breath. He did not like the way Artos observed her, as if she was a thing to be studied rather than a woman – a princess. Perhaps when it was all over, he’d kill the man for it. “I fear she is not strong enough to survive this.”

She cried out behind them. Two maids were pressing damp cloths to her forehead. Another was hastily braiding her hair back. A Septa had begun cutting away her dress, leaving her only in her chemise as two more maids removed her slippers and stockings. Two other Septas knelt by the windows, praying, while one woman who seemed to be neither maid nor Septa laid metal and wood instruments atop a tall, thin table.

It took every ounce of Aemond’s self-control not to go to her. To shove away each woman because it should be him – and him alone – to touch his wife while she was so vulnerable. He should be the one to protect her, but he couldn’t. He could only hurt her, it seemed.

“Artos!” Aemond hissed.

“Is her spirit weak as well?” There was suspicion in his dark eyes. The same he’d shown when he confirmed Alys was carrying a child. If he hadn’t been so proficient a healer, Aemond might have killed him then.

But for now, Aemond was glad Artos was alive. He swallowed, avoiding looking back at the bed as his wife continued to whimper and moan. “Yes.” The maester just hummed before approaching the bed. Aemond followed, kneeling at the bedside, the maids immediately clearing away.

“This is Maester Artos, ābrazȳrītsos.” She stared wide-eyed at the hulking mass of the man who now knelt between her legs. Aemond tugged on her hand, her gaze snapping back to him. “I know him well. He’s going to take very good care of you, I promise.”

She shuddered, her eyes closed tight as she squeezed Aemond’s hand so hard he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. He delighted in it. She was not as weak as he thought, thank the gods. If she needed to break every bone in his hand – in his body – to live through this, he would let her do so without complaint.

“Are you going to stay with me?” she asked, her voice already ravaged by screaming.

Aemond blinked. When they first learned they were to have a child, he swore he would. But now, it seemed impossible for her to want him there. Not after what he’d done. “Do you… want me to stay?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out but another moan of pain. Her eyes darted all over his face. The longer she stayed silent, the further Aemond’s stomach dropped, and his heart ached.

“I believe it wise to have the prince wait outside,” Artos said decisively.

Aemond felt her hand slide out of his, the sensation the same as if he were falling from Vhagar’s back—her answer.

He nodded, and though he knew he shouldn’t, he leaned over her and kissed her forehead, trailing a hand down her cheek. “I love you.”

As he walked to the door, he still held a little shred of hope in his heart, waiting to hear her say it back.

It never came.

The moment the door shut behind Aemond, she regretted sending him away. She wanted to call him back so she wouldn’t be alone with so many strangers. But panic began to set in as the maids pulled her gently down the bed, and her voice failed her.

“It won’t be long now, princess,” the maester said, but she found no comfort in it. She couldn’t even remember his name. Alton? Alyn? Amos? Aemond had said he trusted him, but…

But that meant he had been here when Aemond was with Alys. And that glint of pity in his eyes, not just for her conditions, but for what he knew. He knew. Seven Hells, he’d probably been the one to care for Alys and her pregnancy.

Alys. Alys, Alys, fucking Alys!

She did not know what to think of the woman who had stolen so much from her. Had she stolen it, or had Aemond given it? She could hardly make sense of what she’d learned in that dreary little room.

Alys was not the evil, scheming witch she had first imagined. But neither was she innocent in the affair, not wholly. She was not remorseful for her actions, but she apologized for hurting her. She had been kind.

Blinding pain shot through her, and she screamed. Wordless and desperate, her only outlet for release. She needed to scream, needed to roar, needed to breathe fire. Anything to distract from this. Gods, she even wished for a moment for Alys to be there, holding her hand. At least then, she could return some of that pain.

“Princess,” the maester said, though he sounded far away. Though it was more likely that her shouting was drowning him out. “Very soon, I will ask that you push. Do you know how, your highness?”

Push. That’s what the septas had instructed Helaena to do at the birth of her twins and for Maelor. She even had vague memories of the word from when she peeked through the open door to her mother’s chambers when Daeron was born. But what it meant and how to do it?

Her confusion must have been apparent, for the maester continued. His voice was frustratingly calm and steady. “It is fine if you do not, princess. You must simply follow your instincts. When you feel the urge, push the child outward with all your might.”

“I have no might.” She heard herself laughing through tears and only then realized she was crying. Someone took her hand – she didn’t know who. But the feeling of another’s skin on hers was heavenly.

“You have carried these babes for months,” the maester – Artos! that was his name – said gently, “while your husband and the realm were at war. In my estimation, you are the mightiest woman in Westeros.”

She felt nearly every muscle she had tense, turning her answering grateful smile into a grimace. The mightiest woman in Westeros would not have weathered her pregnancy as well as a paper boat in a storm. The mightiest woman in Westeros would not still love her husband after he betrayed her. The mightiest woman in Westeros would not have let her emotions weaken her or put her children’s lives in danger.

She was far from the mightiest woman in Westeros, and she could not do this. She wasn’t strong enough. She was only a weak and broken little girl.

A maid approached, a fresh cool, damp cloth in her hands. The princess had not looked at any of their faces, too absorbed in her pain and panic. But now, she caught the eyes of this girl—deep, rich brown, so similar to her own – to her mother’s.

“I want my mother,” she whispered to the maid, even knowing it was impossible. “I can’t do this without her.”

The maid gaped at her as if she could not fathom a princess ever speaking to her. She looked to her companions for guidance, but the princess only looked into the maid’s eyes and thought of her mother—the scent of the rosemary oil she used in her hair, the warmth of her embrace, and the soothing tones of her voice.

“Please, I want my mother,” she begged. A new surge of pain gripped her, radiating into her legs. They were coming faster now; she barely had time to breathe between each wave. “Please.”

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness.” The maid’s voice was high and breathy, nothing like her mother’s. “The queen is not here.”

She cried, turning away from those false eyes. She was alone – entirely and utterly alone.

“Princess, I need you to be strong now.” Artos’ sweaty brow was furrowed with half a dozen creases, his eyes wide and mouth a firm line. He looked more like a commander on a battlefield than a maester. The Grand Maester would have smiled at her, but he was not here, either. “Your labors are progressing quickly. It is nearly time to push.”

“I don’t know how,” she cried. She refused to open her eyes. If she kept them closed, she could almost imagine she was home.

Artos wrapped his hands around her ankles, pushing them upwards and further apart. “You do, princess. The Mother wove the knowledge into your body. Listen to it, and all will be well.”

“I – ”

Her next scream rattled the room, the keep, the entirety of the Riverlands.

Fire, ice, steel, and claw seemed to rake down her spine to her thighs. But Artos was right; her body reacted to the pain, her muscles moving near-unconsciously to force the babe out of her womb. She followed the instinct, pushing it harder, harder, harder.

“Very good, princess!” Was that Artos or Orwyle? She couldn’t tell anymore.

It was never-ending.

Pain, pushing, and a brief moment of reprieve.

Again.

It lasted hours, days, perhaps even years.

Was a child – a son – even worth this pain? How could she love someone who had tortured her so? Would she ever be able to look at him without remembering how she suffered?

Pain.

PAIN.

Then –

“Stop, princess!”

She went limp, vaguely beginning to feel other sensations creep in: the coolness of the water on her forehead, the slight scratching of the sheets beneath her, and the hushed whispers of the maids and midwives.

The pain was still there, but softer. Less insistent.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice nearly unrecognizable, even to her.

Artos emerged from between her legs, relief painted over his harsh face. “Nothing is wrong, princess. It is simply time to be gentle and allow your body to do its work.” He smiled, chuckling under his breath. “I can see your babe’s white hair – quite a bit of it.”

Laughter bubbled up in her throat. Deep, joyous laughter. Another slight wave of pain passed through her, but she didn’t care at all. She was thinking about her niece and nephew, how Jaehaerys was born with nearly a full mane of silver frizz while Jaehaera had not a single hair on her head until she was over a year old. “He has hair?”

“Yes, although I do not know yet whether it is a boy, princess.”

“It is. He is.”

There was one more brief surge of pain, and then she heard her son cry.

It was torture to wait outside while his ābrazȳrītsos screamed with pain. At first, Aemond stood leaning against the wall, as Aegon did when Helaena began her labors, but his knees failed him when he heard a scream that rattled the world.

He’d been on the floor since, resisting the urge to cover his ears. But he had caused her this pain, so he must listen.

He would be in that room with her if he hadn’t been a weak, damnable fool. He would have held her hand, letting her release her pain onto him. She had only squeezed his hand once, yet he still felt the ghost of her touch on his skin. He would savor that pain for the rest of his life.

It seemed to be never-ending, the torture his son was inflicting upon her. How could he ever forgive the child for doing this to his own mother?

Then, it stopped.

Aemond leaped to his feet, panic infecting his blood like a disease. Why had she gone quiet? What was wrong? Was she dead? He couldn’t face –

A babe cried—his first cry, with his first breath.

Their son.

He tried to push the door open, but it was locked.

“Let me in!” he shouted, pounding his fist on the door. “Artos, let me in!”

There was no answer, but he could hear soft voices inside. None sounded like hers. Oh gods, had she brought their son into the world at the cost of her own life?

Aemond slammed himself against the door again and again, not caring for the damage he was doing to his own body. “Open the door now, Artos!”

He threw himself against the wood again and again. At some point, it had to yield. Either it would, or his body would.

It opened just before he launched himself at it again—not all the way, but it was open. Then, Artos stared at him through the gap with his hateful, disapproving gaze.

“Let me in,” he growled. Trying to force the door open was useless, as the maester was practically a giant and, apparently, throwing all his strength into holding it closed. “If you don’t let me see my wife, I swear I’ll – ”

“Your wife has not finished her labors yet, my prince.” Damn him, the mountainous bastard. “But I am pleased to inform you that she has borne you a son.”

Though he knew it was to be a son, the words still shot through him. A son. His son. Their son.

“Is he healthy? Is she?” There was no more fight in his voice. The warrior prince had vanished, replaced only by the husband and father. By all the gods, he was a father.

Artos nodded. “The boy is small but healthy. Your maester may have miscalculated the date of conception. He is remarkably healthy for being born so early.”

“And my wife?”

“She is tired, but well. The second babe is not quite ready to emerge, so she is resting.”

The weight of all the world was lifted from his shoulders. He felt like the little boy he had once been on Driftmark, wanting nothing more than to see his zaldrīzītsos and take comfort in her embrace. “May I see her? Please.”

“I’m afraid not, my prince.” Artos at least had the decency to sound genuinely apologetic. “She needs this rest. With the first birth, she was wonderfully strong, more than I could have ever imagined. But I fear she has depleted her strength. She fell asleep the moment it was done.”

“Is… is it bad that she fell asleep?”

Artos sighed, his eyes turning to the floor. “Ordinarily, no, but with how thin she is, how weak… it worries me.”

No. No, no, no. “Is there anything you can do? To help strengthen her?”

“I am afraid not, my prince.”

“Well, do something. Do whatever you can.”

A soft moan came from behind the door. Ābrazȳrītsos. Aemond pushed against the door, opening it as far as he could to try and catch the barest glimpse of her.

Her eyes were nearly closed, her reddened cheeks making them appear as dark as night. Her chemise was soaked through with sweat and whatever other fluids came out with their child. But no blood beyond what he already knew to be there.

“Ābrazȳrītsos! I’m here!” He shouted. It took a moment for her to look his way. He could have sworn she smiled. “I’m with you! You must be strong, my love. I know you can be. I love you! I love you so much, ñuha zaldrīzītsos!”

Artos pushed against the door, forcing Aemond back. “That is enough, my prince. Upsetting her will only drain her strength.”

Aemond knew it was true, that his presence would likely upset her rather than comfort her. So, he stopped resisting and allowed the maester to close the door. Just before it closed, he whispered one final command, “Take care of her, Artos. She is my world.”

The pain returned, worse than before. The lightning crept down her spine again, but it was now accompanied by a great force set on tearing her body apart at the seams. Pushing brought no relief, nor did it seem to move her son any closer to the world.

Artos came to her bedside, resting the back of his hand against her brow.

“It’s worse this time,” she confided in the maester when it finally ebbed. “It’s so much worse. Why?”

He sighed and sat on the bedside, his massive hand nearly eclipsing her head as he stroked her hair. It made her feel remarkably like a kitten. “I cannot say, princess. There are many possibilities. This child could be larger, in a slightly different position, or…” He hesitated. “As I said, there are too many possibilities for me to be sure.”

His pause unsettled her, but it soon faded away when another wave went through her. “Is he nearly ready? I can’t do this much longer.” At least she knew what to do this time, so surely it would be better.

“Ah, another son, is it?” Artos stood from the bed to examine her spread legs. Several maids gently moved her to replace the sheets beneath her. “Not yet, but soon. Your motherly instincts will tell you when.”

Motherly instincts. Gods, she was a mother now. There was a child on the other side of the room that she had given birth to, that she had grown within her. A son who would depend on her for his entire life. Her, and his father.

Aemond would be a good father, she knew, even if he were decidedly lacking as a husband. But as a father, he would be attentive, kind, and loving. He would give their sons all the love he was denied by their own father.

They would not repeat the mistakes of the past. They would love their sons. They would not ignore them, speaking to them only to scold them. They would teach them the language of their ancestors themselves instead of relying on tutors. As soon as they were old enough, they would teach them how to be compassionate and fair rulers. They would not force them to marry for political advantage or the continuation of the bloodline but let them fall in love, as they had.

She could see them now. Both with white hair and unruly curls. Bright lilac eyes. The elder would take after her, but with Aemond’s determination. The younger would take after their father but with her gentle temperament.

As if the vision was summoning her second son, she felt her body constricting, muscles tightening. Without fear, she began to push.

“Princess, stop!”

Artos screamed as if someone was holding a sword to his throat, desperate and panicked. His eyes were wide and bulging as he looked from her face to where her second son should be emerging. “You mustn’t push now, princess. Not once. I…”

He stood, pulling one of the Septas aside. Others followed, and their frantic, poorly hushed whispers grew louder. She knew the sight should frighten her, but she forced herself to remain calm. Aemond said he trusted this man and had seen him work miracles. Whatever was wrong, Artos would fix it.

She was sure.

Artos burst out of the door without warning. Aemond pushed away from the wall. “Is it over?”

The maester sighed.

Shit. Seven Hells and all the Gods.

“Your wife is strong, my prince,” he began. Holy gods, he sounded as if he would cry. “Enough so that I would have little doubt that she could deliver your second child, but…”

“What’s wrong?” Aemond felt his heart race, his blood surge, his finger twitching for his sword. He was going into battle, but this was not a battle he could fight with steel or fire. This was not a battle he could fight at all. “Artos?”

“The babe is not in the right position.” He moved his hands as if it would somehow make Aemond understand what he was saying.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that the babe cannot be born, your highness.”

No. This couldn’t be happening. Not after everything she had suffered and survived.

“If she were to continue her labors, neither she nor the child would live.” Artos put a hand on his shoulder, an attempt at comfort. “I can save only one. Who survives… that is your decision, my prince.”

The gods were cruel to force this upon him – the very choice that had damned their family decades ago when Viserys chose to sacrifice his wife and queen for the chance at a son. That was where the seeds of destruction had been sown.

Aemond could not repeat the mistakes of the past. He would not be like his father. He had his son and heir. A second would be preferred, but not at the cost of his ābrazȳrītsos.

His ābrazȳrītsos, whose heart would break to lose her son. Who would never forgive him if he decided to –

He couldn’t choose. He couldn’t let her die, and he couldn’t let their son die.

He couldn't live without her, and he couldn’t take away her will to live.

He tore himself out of Artos’ grasp and stormed into the room.

Aemond threw open the door, his eyes wide and wet, and suddenly, she was not so sure that Maester Artos would fix whatever was wrong.

He ran to the bed, not sparing a glance at their new son. She burst into sobs the moment he took her in his arms. “Oh, ābrazȳrītsos,” he whispered into her hair as he kissed her temples. She entwined her fingers with his, desperately squeezing. “I’m here now. Everything is going to be fine.”

Liar. Sweet Liar. Beloved Liar.

“I want Mother. I want Helaena.” Her voice crackled with tears and exhaustion. Everything hurt. Someone – most likely her – was crying, though it sounded distant. And if Aemond was here, not waiting outside…

If Aemond was here, holding her hand and stroking her hair, it meant something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

“Mother is not here right now,” he said, squeezing her hand tighter. He wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t meet her gaze. “And Helaena… she can’t be here. I’m so sorry.”

“She told me she would hold my hand like I did for her. She promised!”

“I know. I know, my love, but it is not possible.”

Because Helaena was dead. So were Daeron, and Jaehaerys, and Jaehaera, and Maelor, and Otto, and Ser Criston, and nearly every other person she loved. Aegon would be dead soon, too, then she would only have her mother and her husband.

Her mother, who had begged her to forgive the husband who betrayed her and broken her heart.

“I can’t do this alone, Aemond. I can’t.”

“You can, I know it. You are so strong, dearest.” Yet there was no confidence in his voice.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to tear his hair out just to make him hurt, too. “I can’t! I’ll die if you make me, Aemond, I know it. I know something is wrong. Please, tell me.”

He pursed his lips, eyes narrowed. “My love, I…” his voice faded, leaving them in total silence, save for that distant crying.

Then, he kissed her—not the soft kisses on the temple or head of the past fortnight, but the way he had kissed her when he said goodbye all those months ago. His lips slotted against hers perfectly, and she opened for him on instinct. She knew she should stop, push him away, and scold him, but she couldn’t.

Everything felt wrong—her entire body felt wrong. But this, kissing Aemond, felt right. Her desperation for comfort far overpowered her anger and resentment. Her trembling hand rested on his shoulder, her fingers bunching in his shirt. She pulled him closer, wanting more—more rightness, more connection, more feeling.

More Aemond.

But he pulled away, resting his brow against hers as she chased his lips again. He placed a hand on either side of her face, holding her still. “I’m going to fix this,” he rasped, his voice shredded by fear and desperation. “I will fix this, I swear.”

Then, he let go.

He stood from the bed and turned away from his wife.

He was leaving. He was fucking leaving her.

She screamed his name, cursed him, begged him to come back, hurled insults, and cried for him. He couldn’t do this to her, not after everything he’d already done.

This was not love. The heat that burned in her chest was not love.

It was hate.

For the first time in her life, she truly hated Aemond.

“Alys!” Aemond bellowed as he descended the stairs to the servant’s quarters, taking the steps two, three at a time. No one dared approach him. Not even Artos had tried to stop him as he ran away from his ābrazȳrītsos.

She may hate him forever for this, for leaving her when she was so weak and scared.

Fine. It would be worth it.

“ALYS!” The door snapped from its upper hinge as he tore it open. The witch was precisely where she’d been when Aemond left, her hand on her chin as she looked into the fire. What vile hell did she see in her visions now? “Alys!”

“I heard you, Aemond.” She did not look at him, only staring at the flames, those green eyes flitting around as if she were reading a book. “The entire continent heard you.” There was no humor in her voice, no hint of a smile on her face.

He swallowed, panting. He was crying – weeping like a little boy. That didn’t matter now. Very little mattered now.

Aemond fell to his knees before the witch with whom he had destroyed his life. He would do whatever she asked, destroy what little was left of his pride if necessary. “I need your help, Alys. Please.”

“She’s dying?”

“Yes. The maester said I had to… that I had to choose who to save.”

“And you can’t choose between her and the child.”

“No, I – ” he swallowed as his voice shattered. He was going to vomit. “I can’t, Alys. I can’t. Please.”

“What is it, exactly, that you want me to do?” She was colder than the Wall, than the entirety of the lands beyond it.

“Save them, both of them.”

Alys’ eyes narrowed. Her face was painted with an expression he had never seen. He had no clue what it meant. “What would you sacrifice,” she asked flatly, “to ensure your wife and her children – your true heirs – live?”

“Anything,” Aemond croaked, “Everything.”

One corner of her sinful mouth lifted in a way that did not bring him comfort. She sighed as if taking the time to thoroughly consider his plea. The wicked bitch was gleefully stalling when the lives of his wife and child could end at any moment.

“Please, Alys,” he begged again, desperation crawling through his veins like spreading ice. “I cannot live without her, and she will never recover from her grief if she loses the babe.”

Something passed over her face, and she smiled fully. “You have always been a man of loyalty and nobility, Aemond.” Her grin sharpened as she laid one delicate hand upon her belly. “Almost always, at least.”

“Alys,” he growled in warning.

“Oh, don’t be a beast about it,” she scoffed. “I will do it – save them. If only in memory of our time together.”

Aemond sagged as relief swept through him, but it did not last long. She was still dying. The babe was still dying. Whatever Alys would do, she needed to do it now. He opened his mouth to command her to start, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“I promise it will be done.” She flung her hand to the door in dismissal. “You should be there for her. She is still so very frightened.”

He needed nothing more to run back to his wife.

She was alone. Even with Maester Artos and the dozen women hovering around her, even with her son cooing softly from the cradle by the window, she had never felt so alone.

Aemond was gone.

He’d left her. Without even a goodbye, he’d left her. He had not even stopped to meet his son.

Artos murmured something to one of the Septas, who quickly gathered the other women on the far side of the room. He approached the bed, again seating himself upon the edge, and pressed the back of his fingers to her brow briefly before petting her hair. “How are you feeling, princess?”

“Am I going to die?”

He hesitated in answering. “I cannot say for certain…”

“I know something is wrong. Please, tell me.” Her heart constricted as his fingers brushed against a spot where Aemond had kissed her. “You told him, now tell me.”

“Very well,” he sighed. His harsh face fell, and she swore she could see his eyes glistening. “The babe is breech. It should emerge head-first, but it is not. It’s… the way it is attempting to come out is nearly impossible. Should I not intervene, one or both of you will die.”

No. No, no, no, it wasn’t fair. To suffer for this long, to endure what she endured, only for her child to enter the world wrong? In a way that would kill them? She had always been good and devout. She prayed and studied holy texts, listened to her Septas and the Maesters, and avoided sin at all costs. Then why was she being punished?

Unless… the gods had not sent this to punish her.

Aemond had abandoned her and their marriage – their holy union – when he slept with Alys. It would be fitting, and very like the gods, for him to lose that which he had forsaken. She and her second son were merely instruments of punishment. But it wasn’t fair.

“There is nothing you can do?” She felt hollow as Artos continued to look at her in pity.

The warrior-maester looked as if he were about to cry, as well. “In these situations, it is usually asked of the father whom he would rather save.”

So that was why Artos left the room – to ask Aemond whether to save her or the child.

“Who did he choose?” Either answer would devastate her. He would either prove the fragility of his love for her, or he would willingly break her heart by killing their son. Whatever he chose, he would become a kinslayer thrice over.

“He… he did not, your highness.”

“What?”

“I explained the situation, and he stormed in here – to you. When he left, he said nothing. He just ran. I presumed he had…” But he hadn’t. Had not said a word about the peril she and their son were now in.

A coward. Too frightened to maintain his vows of marriage. Too weak to admit his wrongdoing. Too cowardly to even make this most crucial of decisions. The gods damn him.

If they hadn’t already.

“So… what will you do?” If she had to be the one to make the decision, so be it.

“There are three options.” None of them were very good, she knew, simply by looking at his forlorn face. She had thought him a grave man when she first saw him. Now, he looked mournful – a reluctant harbinger of death. “I can forcibly remove the child, more than likely killing it in the process. I can attempt to save it and, in so doing, certainly kill you. Or we can proceed with the birth, risking killing both of you and pray that the gods may be merciful.”

Such a choice – a decision of life and death – should be difficult. It should tear away at the soul to condemn another. It should be far beyond the limits of the heart or mind.

But it was easy.

“Save him,” she whispered. “Let me die.”

Artos frowned deeply, shook his head, and said something in return, but she did not listen – she could not and would not hear his words. She only vaguely saw him move to the end bed, ripping away the sleeve of his robes as he barked orders at the maid and midwives. Perhaps the gods were merciful to dull her senses now so she could pass peacefully.

What did it matter if she died now?

She will have fulfilled her duty and given her husband his heirs. Finding a new wife would be easy – what woman would not want to marry him? Even if news of Alys spread beyond the walls of Harrenhal, surely it was nothing in exchange for a crown. Aemond would have everything he needed to be king.

If she lived, what sort of life would it be? To raise one son while constantly mourning the other. To be the wife of a man she could no longer trust. To remain empty, a shell of her former self. She would be alive, but she would still be a ghost.

“Save him,” she said again, her voice fading.

It was easier this way. Hadn’t she already learned that it was easier not to fight? Letting Aemond take care of her was easier than fighting him. Perhaps it would be easier to let him care for the children, too. He would love them enough that they would not feel her absence.

Distantly, she felt pressure between her legs, then heard her firstborn son cry out to echo her own screams.

Her son.

Oh, he had no name.

She couldn’t leave him motherless and without a name.

Months ago, she had decided on names, but they were hard to remember now. What was it? She could grant him this one last gift. She just needed to remember…

“Daeron.”

Yes. It had been her brother’s name. Her kind, brave, daring brother. He died some months ago. There had been a battle. Why was her little brother fighting? He was too young for that.

Tendrils of pale mist crept into the edges of her vision, playfully willing her to sleep.

Once she was gone, Daeron—her Daeron—would have a little brother, too. He would need a name as well—a strong name, a courageous name. When she was dead, he would need courage.

“Aenar.”

A strong name. With courage enough to forge a new beginning.

There. Names for her sons, the little princes.

With that last parting gift, she could close her eyes at last.

Goodbye, she tried to say.

I love you, my children.

Be kind to each other.

Love each other always.

Goodbye.

The mist filled her vision, illuminated by a distant light. It was cool, like a late spring morning. She did not hurt anymore. Did not feel anything but an overwhelming sense of peace.

The distant light faded.

The mist darkened.

Through it, she swore she could see grass-green eyes and hear the faraway cry of a babe.

She was still screaming. Good.

Screaming meant she was still alive. Screaming meant Alys was fulfilling her promise. Screaming meant that Aemond was racing back to his wife – his living, breathing, beloved wife – and not her corpse.

The door was still locked when he arrived—one final obstacle between him and his family.

No, not final. Far from it. The door was the only tangible thing keeping him from his wife and children, yes, but there was far more beyond it. The pain he caused her, the hatred his ābrazȳrītsos now surely felt for him, and the third child that would soon be born still kept them as far apart as the earth and stars.

They would get past it. They had to. They were siblings, husband and wife, now destined to become King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. They were meant for each other. The gods or fate or whatever else had made her for him and him for her.

They were two parts of the same whole, cleaved.

“Prince Aemond.”

Cregan Stark, the man who humiliated him and his wife mere hours ago, stood behind him. Aemond snarled. “Leave. Now.”

Stark stood strong and still. “You have been my enemy. You may be still, I have not decided. I have no admiration nor respect for you, my prince. In short, I do not like you.”

“Do you want me to kill you?” Aemond asked. He did not wish to greet his sons with blood-soaked hands, but if Stark didn’t close his fucking mouth –

“To lose the woman you love so dearly in this way… it is a pain I know all too well and one I would not wish on anyone. I have instructed all my men to pray for the Princess and the child, and I will join them soon. Negotiations will be postponed indefinitely.”

“I…” Perhaps Aemond had underestimated the brute, if he was a brute at all. And though he knew the prayers were unnecessary, gratitude still dulled his rage. “Thank you, Lord Stark.”

He simply inclined his head and walked away, leaving Aemond leaning against that godsdamned door, listening to nothing but the sound of his own panting breath.

Oh gods.

He froze.

The screaming was gone.

It was silent.

Was she dead?

Had Alys betrayed him?

He would kill her. He would tear her apart with his own hands and –

A child cried.

Then…

Oh, thank each and every god a thousand times over.

For then, Aemond heard his wife laughing.

“Princess?”

She always expected that the voice of the Father would be deep and smooth, but shouldn’t it be the Mother to greet her, given how she died? And shouldn’t the gods greet her by name, not her title?

“Princess, it is time to wake up,” the voice said again. “Open your eyes for me.”

Oh, her eyes were closed. She should open them.

The Heavens were not as bright as she imagined, nor as golden. They were dark and sparsely decorated and looked very much like –

“I am not dead?”

Maester Artos looked down at her and smiled. It reminded her of the few times she had seen her father smile at her, sparking a warmth in her chest she had not felt for years. She had not known she still remembered those smiles. “I am very happy to say you are not, your highness.”

“But, my son – ”

“He lives, too.”

It couldn’t be. After all the suffering of the past year, she could not believe it could be true. Loss had become a certainty, as sure as the sun rising each morning.

A babe cried, and she turned toward the sound. A young maid was wrapping an infant boy with a shock of white curls in a cobalt blue blanket. Daeron.

A different, softer cry came from the other end of the room. There, another boy with only a smattering of silver wisps atop his head was being gently cleaned by a Septa. Aenar.

Her sons – alive and well and here.

She threw her head back against the pillows and laughed.

She laughed with joy and relief, with eight months of eager waiting and sickness. She laughed with a body nearly dead, saved only by some miracle she did not understand. And she laughed with a heart that was both shattered and overflowing.

This was the moment she had dreamed of since she learned she was pregnant, since the moment she married Aemond. She had dreamed of this all her life. It was her destiny, even if it was vastly different from how she had dreamed it. For she was not at home in the Red Keep but within the cursed stones of Harrenhal. Her mother was not by her side but miles away. The family that was supposed to crowd around her and coo over the children were nearly all dead. And her husband…

“Let me in!” he shouted through the door, the wood pounding against stone as he threw himself against it. He had been doing that before, but she did not notice until now. It was so like him, the impatience and need to act, that she laughed again. “Ābrazȳrītsos! Is that you? Tell me you are safe!”

Taking her laughter as permission, Artos opened the door. It was mere heartbeats later that Aemond was upon the bed, his eye flitting over every inch of her, his hands roaming to try and locate something wrong, to stem blood that did not flow or relieve pain that did not exist.

“I’m fine,” she said, breathless. “I did it, lēkia, and I’m fine.”

“You did it?” He looked down at her in utter disbelief and joy before his eye drifted to the Maester. Tears slipped from his eye and caught the light of the setting sun. “She did it…”

Her gaze went to the maid that held her firstborn – the girl with eyes like her mother’s. Fitting, for her to be the one to hold him. But it was her turn. “Bring Daeron to me,” she ordered,” some strength at last returning to her voice. “I want to hold him.”

Aemond stared at her. “Daeron?”

Was he angry that she named their sons without him? She couldn’t quite tell. Her mind was still fuzzy, like the mist she had seen still lay over her, casting everything in a sweet, happy light. She shrugged. “There are already too many Aegons, so…”

He laughed. She had missed that sound – she loved it so dearly. He settled into the bed next to her, their bodies fitting together perfectly, like two halves of a broken plate. So many familiar feelings – the warmth of his arm around her, the rhythm of his heart, his lips kissing her temple in the gentle way that always sent shivers down her spine. Hadn’t her spine hurt not long ago? “Daeron is perfect.”

Indeed, he was absolutely perfect. So tiny and precious as he was put in her arms, looking up at his parents with wide lilac eyes. Neither she nor Aemond said anything as they beheld him, taking in each tiny, perfect detail. The wild curls of his silver hair. Each and every eyelash framing his bright eyes. The pink of his lips. Fingers and toes so wonderfully soft and small. A toothless smile that lit the world.

“He’s going to be king someday,” she realized aloud. How could someone so tiny rule an entire kingdom? He had a lot of growing to do before the Conqueror’s Crown would fit.

“A great king, I think,” Aemond mused. He held out a finger, and Daeron instinctively wrapped his hand around it. “Wise and strong. Daring, like his namesake.”

“He must be kind, too.”

“He will be,” Aemond assured, brushing out her damp, tangled hair with his fingers. The feeling was so familiar, but each touch had her flinching slightly. “We will raise him to be kind. His brother, too.”

“Aenar.”

Aemond stiffened. Had he forgotten they had another son, or did he not like the name she gave him? He pulled his finger back from his son’s fist to touch the babe’s hair. “The Exile?”

“I just thought…” Perhaps it had been a foolish name. But it had felt right when it came to her, when she was on the brink of death. “Our family needs a new beginning.”

“Yes… I suppose it does.” He kissed her again with slightly too much pressure. “Another fine name.”

She looked at the Septa that had been cleaning him. Maester Artos stood with her now, along with several other women, crowding so much she could not see the babe. “I want to hold him, too. Bring him to me.”

None of them moved. The room fell silent.

“Allow me just a moment longer, princess,” Artos said. His voice shook, and he would not look at her or Aemond. “I am still finishing my assessment of the boy.”

He’s dead, her mind insisted. They saved your life at the cost of his. He died because of you.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”

Daeron began fussing in her arms, disturbed by how she began to tremble. She failed one son by killing him, and now she was already failing as a mother to the one who survived. Aemond tightened his arm on her shoulders, pulling her closer as his free arm gently lifted their son into his own grasp.

He hushed her, ducking his head to press his cheek to hers. “Lykirī, ābrazȳrītsos. Izūgō daor īlo bēvili gō.” Calm, little wife. Do not panic before we have reason to.

“Kostan daor,” she whimpered. If Aenar was dead…

“Is he alive?” Aemond’s hand moved to shelter Daeron’s head as if to shield him from whatever danger or heartbreak lurked. She turned to press herself into him – into the safety of his arms.

Brother. Husband. Protector.

Why did the feel and scent of him no longer make her feel safe?

“Yes, my prince,” Artos answered.

“Will he remain that way?”

“Yes…”

“You could tell me he’s green-skinned and winged for all I care.” His arm curled protectively around her, but it did not comfort her. Rather, she bristled against it, the possessiveness of it. He did not notice. “He’s alive, and that’s enough. Bring him.”

Artos hesitated but obeyed, hastily wrapping the babe in a dark blanket.

He looked whole – unbroken. Aenar’s eyes were closed as the Maester placed him in her arms, but she could feel his warmth, his little heart beating, and the faint rise and fall of his chest. He only woke when a tear fell from her cheek onto his.

Even then, he did not cry. He only looked at his mother with bright eyes – the same shade of violet as his father's and brother’s. “Ñuha trēso,” she whispered, and he smiled. My son.

“Taobosa sylvȳse,” Aemond added. “He already recognizes the language of his ancestors. He will serve his brother well. Dārys sepār Ondoso zȳhon.” Wise boy. The King and his Hand.

They had two perfect sons. So why did Artos still look like that?

The Maester’s frown deepened. “I am afraid…” he cleared his throat. “It appears that the younger prince was injured during the birth.”

She examined him again but could find nothing wrong. He was perfect. Surely, Artos was mistaken.

“May I?” His large hand hovered over the edge of the blanket.

Her instinct was to pull away, to not let this man touch her son. Yes, he had saved both their lives, but he must be wrong now. Why should she let him make a problem where there was none?

She suppressed that instinct and allowed him to uncover Aenar’s right arm. Artos’ demeanor had made it seem as though something was horribly wrong – that the arm would be missing or deformed. But it was just an arm, small and plump and pale, with a splotch of reddish-purple covering the shoulder like a pauldron.

“It… is it a birthmark?” She brushed a thumb over it, the skin smooth but slightly raised. A birthmark wasn’t an injury, nor was it exceedingly unusual. There were several families where such a mark appeared on nearly every child born.

“Explain yourself, Artos,” Aemond hissed. He looked ready to tear the man to pieces. If he did, he would likely do so without even setting Daeron down.

With a sigh, Artos ran a finger down the length of Aenar’s arm. “Note how he gives no reaction.”

“So he is calm,” Aemond spat. “I fail to see the injury.”

“Do the same to the elder.” He repeated the touch. “Gently, my prince.”

Aemond obeyed with a scowl. The moment he touched the babe, Daeron squirmed and flailed his arm.

“But he looks fine.” She looked down at her second son, her wise boy, and held out a finger, as Aemond had with Daeron. Aenar’s left arm squirmed within its wrappings, but the right was still. She touched the arm, silently pleading with the gods for it to move, for that tiny hand to reach for her.

It remained still. A desperate noise escaped her. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aemond and Artos said in unison. Her husband attempted to pull her into his chest, but she pushed him away. An embrace could not fix this. Nothing could. He did not pursue her again.

“It is not uncommon among children born breech.” the Maester explained. “I have seen many such injuries and many even worse.”

Artos offered no sympathy or apologies, and she was thankful for it. There was nothing he could say to ease the pain of knowing that her son would never be whole, just like his father. But unlike Aemond, he was never even given the chance, wounded from his first breath. What would the people call him? ‘Prince Aenar One-Arm, son of King Aemond One-Eye?’

“What do we do?” She asked her husband, the Maester, the gods. Anyone who may have an answer.

Aemond’s face was drawn with grief – for his son and for himself. “He will adapt, as I did. I will ensure it. He will be stronger for this. I promise.”

I cannot trust your promises.

The thought was a sudden gale of icy wind scattering the lovely mist coating her mind into oblivion, leaving her with only stark, wicked reality and the faint memory of green eyes.

“How did I survive?”

Too quickly, Aemond turned to her, taking hold of her chin and pulling her close to him. “It does not matter, ābrazȳrītsos. All that does is that you are still with me. You and Aenar.”

If he wasn’t holding her firstborn, she would have shoved him from the bed.Liar. Liar. Liar.

I will fix this. he’d said before he left her. The pure, unrelenting anger she felt as she watched him leave had prevented her from considering what those words meant. Now, she could think of nothing else. What could he do? He was no midwife nor Maester. He had no knowledge of childbirth, beyond the few questions he’d asked of Orwyle months ago. What could he have done for her and Aenar except beg the help of another?

Of Alys.

Alys, who had eyes the color of fresh grass and possessed a dark magic that allowed her visions of the future. Was she also able to influence that future?

How?

At what cost?

What had Aemond promised her in exchange for their lives?

“No Maester wants to admit to ignorance,” Artos smiled sadly as Aenar continued to try to wriggle his left arm free of his blanket, “but I cannot explain it. All I can think is that the gods are kind to you, princess, and for that, I am glad.”

She could not look at him or any of the others in the room who watched her as if they could see the Mother’s hand upon her shoulder.

The gods weren’t kind. They were cruel to allow her to now owe her very life, and that of her son’s, to the two people who had destroyed her. Would she ever be able to look upon Aenar and not remember? To not feel her soul torn between unyielding hatred and infinite gratitude?

Yet, she had her life – and her sons. Surely anything was worth that.

Wasn’t it?

“I’m tired,” she said. The day had seemed to last a year, and the sun had not even set. “I want to rest now.”

After what she endured, no one argued.

His ābrazȳrītsos fell asleep mere moments after Daeron and Aenar were settled into their cradles. She did not even wake when Aemond lifted her so the servants could replace the soiled bedding. Just as she had so many times before, she tucked her face into his neck as they sat in the window, sighing contentedly. Now, he lay beside her in the bed, trying to memorize how it felt to have her in his arms.

When she woke, he knew she would never allow him to hold her like this again.

She knew. Somehow, his wife knew what he had done to ensure she and Aenar survived, and she would never forgive him for it for as long as she lived.

But she would live.

Aenar would live. Though he would bear the wounds of his father’s sins forever.

After his wife had fallen asleep, Maester Artos had told him that it would likely be necessary to amputate Aenar’s arm. The purple mark on his shoulder had grown, apparently indicating further bleeding within the limb. If it grew much more before morning, the arm would be removed before midday.

It was his fault, Aemond knew.

Alys had told him that in her visions, both boys had been healthy. But that was before his ābrazȳrītsos knew that he betrayed her. Before he brought her to this cursed place. Before he failed to stop her from meeting Alys and learning the full extent of his sins.

He only hoped Aenar would not grow to hate him for it.

For now, the boy slept in his crib, limp arm hidden beneath the dark blanket he was swaddled in. Aemond rose from the bed, moving closer to his son.

How peaceful he looked now, with the redness of his skin finally faded. He did not have as much hair as his older brother, but his was wilder - more reminiscent of his mother’s curls than his father’s straight locks. At least he had that part of her, if not the warm brown eyes Aemond had hoped for.

In the other cradle, Daeron fussed slightly, though he did not wake. It seemed he resented being confined within the tight swaddle of his blanket. The thought made Aemond smile, remembering how his younger brother once did the same. It faded quickly.

He had to go to Alys. To thank her for giving him his family - a kindness he did not deserve. To say goodbye to the child he would never meet. Another cost he would force himself to pay.

He had to go now, while his ābrazȳrītsos slept.

“Before our wedding,” he whispered, careful not to wake her as he approached, “I promised to hold you every night I could, that I would do anything to return to you when I was away. I have failed to uphold that promise, and for that, I am so sorry.”

When he stroked her cheek, she turned into his touch, a small smile upon her lips. Seeing that some unconscious part of her still reacted to him with love warmed his heart, even as the knowledge that her conscious mind would never allow her to do so felt like a dagger buried in his gut.

Aemond knelt at her side, basking in her beauty, memorizing her peaceful face. “Now, I swear my devotion again. I know you no longer wish for me to hold you, and I promise I will not try to persuade you otherwise. But I swear I will always be with you, to love and protect you, even if I must do it from a distance. I will never fail you again.”

It did not matter that she could not hear his vow. Even if she did, she would not believe him. But he made it anyway, for his own sake, and so the gods, wherever they may be, would hear him. It was to them he spoke next.

“Should I ever harm you again, I pray that the gods will strike me down where I stand. And if they do not, I shall do so myself.” He kissed her brow - the sealing of a promise and a farewell - and left.

A maid shrunk away as she passed Aemond in a corridor deep beneath Harrenhal, cradling the bundle of cloth she carried closer to her chest. It was one of the same maids who had tended to his wife—the young girl with deep brown eyes. She did not wear the clothing of a midwife, but the colors of her linen dress were similar. Perhaps a midwife in training.

Strange, then, for her to be here. Stranger still for her to be seemingly performing the duties of a laundress.

He glanced down at the bundle of cloth she carried and froze.

There was blood. Too much blood.

A young midwife, carrying bedlinens soaked with blood.

What would you sacrifice? Alys had asked.

Aemond ran.

He knew what he would find. There was no other explanation. Yet he still hoped and prayed he was wrong. Loss had followed him like a loyal dog for so long, but today it was banished. It must be.

Alys stood in front of her fire. One hand rested on a stomach that was not as distended as it had been only hours ago.

His wife’s stomach now looked very much the same.

“What did you do?” His voice shook with fear and guilt and shame. Gods, he felt so weak.

Her eyes, cold and distant, slid to his. “What you asked.”

“I didn’t ask you to…” This blood was on his hands - the blood of his child.

The word that had haunted him for more than a year - the word that had nearly led to the death of every person he ever loved - echoed in his mind.

Kinslayer.

Killer of his nephew. His uncle. His child.

Aemond looked back into the corridor, hoping to see the young midwife again. Had he not looked closely enough? Had she been carrying the body of his child within those bloody linens?

“I only wanted you to save my wife and son.” His words were a justification, a plea. It fell on the deaf ears of the gods and the dead child’s mother.

“And you thought there would be no cost?” Alys laughed, cruel and cackling. “No god in the world is so generous as to save a life and ask for nothing in exchange, boy.”

“I didn’t think – ”

“You never do.”

Grief morphed into anger. Reckless, aimless, dangerous rage. “You should have told me!”

“What would you have done?” She faced him fully now, her hand falling to her side. There was no trace of the woman who had once comforted and reassured him - who had kept him sane amidst the insanity of war. There was only annoyance and derision. It reminded Aemond of his dead half-sister and her bastard sons. “If I had told you?”

“I –”

“Would you have left your wife to die? Let her son die?” Alys’ lip curled in a hateful sneer. “You could not choose between wife and son, yet you believe you could have chosen between two sons?”

The world stopped. Only Alys’ flickering fire and burning eyes remained.

“I… it was a boy?” Aemond leaned against the wall, sliding down to his knees, savoring the scrape of the rough stone against his back. He deserved every bit of pain. More.

Alys let a single hint of sorrow slip through her cold façade. “It was. Three sons within a year. What your father would have given to have had the same.”

The last thing Aemond wanted to do was to think about his father. The king who had nearly destroyed his throne by choosing one child over another.

Gods, was he any better?

Did his ignorance of his son’s sacrifice absolve him of blame? The guilt?

It certainly didn’t feel like it.

Alys sighed. “Better for his death to mean something than for his life to be spent destitute and fatherless.”

“I would not have allowed that to happen,” Aemond said. It was a reflex, a reassurance he’d grown used to giving since he learned he seeded a bastard.

“Wouldn’t you? Perhaps if my visions had not changed. But now…” She shook her head, more exasperated than sorrowful. Did she mourn the child at all? “No. You’d have wanted us as far away as possible and done anything you could to not think of us.”

“I would have ensured your comfort.” The words felt as hollow as his chest.

“Your wife would, yes.” Alys smiled fondly, just as she had when his ābrazȳrītsos sat across from her earlier that very day. She had never smiled that way for Aemond. Never truly cared for him. He should have known. “She is kind-hearted. But not you. Your resentment of me, of us, would have festered until you found some way to be rid of us.”

He wanted to deny it. To say that there was nothing that could drive him to do what she insinuated. Once, it would have been true. But now, with the man he’d become in the war and how close he’d come to losing his heart itself, it would be a lie.

If he had killed Alys along with the rest of her cursed family, would he have become this man? Would he have learned to cherish the metallic tang of blood and its warmth as it coated his hands? Would he have become so proficient a liar that false words rolled off his tongue like a Valyrian lullaby? Would he have grown so accustomed to violence that it now came as naturally to him as loving his wife?

Would he have broken his ābrazȳrītsos’s heart?

He’d trusted her visions. It had been a mistake.

One mistake that led to thousands more, and it was all her fault.

Alys was the one who lied, who deceived him. Who had pulled his strings as if he were no more than a puppet, knowing that he was married and his wife was lonely and infirm.

His failure as a husband. His wife’s pain. The death of his third son.

Her fault. Her fault. Her fault.

Aemond’s heart slowed, his breathing becoming deep and steady. No longer the heart of a broken boy or a desperate husband. Now, it was the blackened heart that had carried him through countless battles and raging rivers of blood.

“I will be rid of you now,” he hissed as he stood. “And I will be rid of you forever.”

The bitch had enough sense to look scared.

“In memory of the son you killed, I will allow you to live. But no more than that.” She didn’t even deserve that, this woman who did not mourn her own child. Perhaps it was good that the babe was gone, for surely he would have suffered with a witch as his mother.

He approached Alys, sneering down at her and the false bravery on her wicked face. “As Prince Regent of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I banish you from these lands forever. You have ten days to leave Westeros. After that, if you are ever seen here again…” He reached out and grabbed her by the throat, holding just tight enough to steal a bit of her breath - just enough to make her fight for it.

“I will kill you myself,” he promised. “Without hesitation or remorse, I will kill you. Slowly. And I will savor every moment, for it will bring me far greater pleasure than that withered cunt of yours ever did.”

She fell to her knees when he released her, clutching at her throat as she coughed and gulped for air. He didn’t care. He only turned on his heel and left, not sparing a single glance at the woman who had only hours ago been carrying his bastard child.

Only one woman mattered now, had ever truly mattered to him.

His ābrazȳrītsos was still asleep when he returned to their chamber, as were their sons. They had no idea where he had gone - that he had even left at all. No inkling of the fact that a moment ago, he had again become the man who wiped an entire bloodline from the earth, slaughtered tens of thousands, and delighted in the suffering he had wrought.

Now, as he leaned down to gently kiss his sons’ brows and muss their soft hair, he was a mere man of twenty, his heart bursting with love and affection for his family. How could a heart overflow with such love at the same moment it was fracturing with grief and regret?

It was a question far beyond him at that moment. Perhaps forever beyond his reach.

He was so tired. Too tired to consider the heartbreak that would come when he woke in the morning and his wife pulled out of his grasp. He could face that pain when it came. But now, he needed to feel whole, if only for a few hours.

So, Aemond climbed into bed with his wife, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her into his chest. He remained awake only long enough to kiss the top of her head and whisper, “Jāla tetan, ābrazȳrītsos. Īlon lentot selagon kosti.” It is over, ābrazȳrītsos. We can go home.

She woke to the sound of Daeron fussing. Strange how quickly she was able to tell them apart, even just by their little noises of discontentment. Although, considering she had been with them every moment of the last seven - near eight - months, it may not be strange at all. Perhaps that was why she felt so sure that it had been Daeron who occupied the top of her belly, constantly pestering her with his tiny fists pounding against her at the most inopportune times.

“Hush, little prince,” a soft voice said. “You’ll wake up your mother, and after what you and your brother put her through, I dare say she needs her rest.” A maid was speaking to him, a slight, old woman leaning over his crib. She had not seen the maid before, and somehow, it comforted her.

Daeron continued to grumble. She moved to stand but found Aemond’s arms wrapped around her waist. Thankfully, he was still asleep. Quite deeply asleep, apparently, for when she untangled herself from him, he did not wake.

The maid curtsied when she saw the princess approaching and stepped away from Daeron’s cradle. His fussing had now roused Aenar, but the younger prince made no sound, only glaring at his brother in what seemed to be intense displeasure at his sleep being interrupted.

“Is something wrong with him?” she asked the old maid. Daeron quieted slightly upon seeing his mother but still fussed.

“Nothing to concern yourself with, princess.” The old maid had a kind, soothing voice - that of a wise grandmother. She looked at the babes with fondness and a hint of apology. “They are simply hungry.”

“Where is the wetnurse?” She immediately regretted asking. In her sleepy haze, she had forgotten that Alys was the wetnurse at Harrenhal. Why wasn’t she here? Did she even want Alys here? No, of course she didn’t. Had Aemond requested another be found so she would not have to see Alys again?

The old maid looked away, sighing. “I’m afraid she’s left us. No wonder why, poor thing lost her babe again. Such a shame. We all thought she’d had a miracle with this one. But not to worry, Maester Artos sent some men to find another girl from the closest village.” She shook her head and again leaned over Daeron’s crib. “You’ll be fed soon, darling prince, don’t you worry.”

Alys’ child - Aemond’s child - was dead?

It was a good thing, wasn’t it? There would be no bastard son of the new king, no living reminder of what he’d done. This was good news. She should be happy, shouldn’t she?

But she wanted to cry.

“Mother, forgive me,” the old maid looked horrified as she clutched her pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star. “I should not have said that, princess. Not when you’ve only just finished your own labors. Please, forgive me.”

She glanced at Aenar, now peacefully asleep once more. How close she had come to losing him. It had devastated her. Made her willing to forfeit her own life if only he could live. If she had lost him and had to live with that loss… it would have driven her mad.

“How…” she licked her lips. “How many children has she lost?”

The old maid dropped her pendant. “I do not know, exactly. Enough that we all stopped counting.”

Oh gods. She blinked to clear her eyes, wiping away an errant tear with her thumb. “You said she’s gone?”

“Yes, princess. She left in the night. Didn’t say where she was going, to my knowledge.”

It made no sense. If Aemond had struck a bargain with Alys to save her and Aenar’s lives, why would she leave? Had whatever he offered her not been enough to keep her in the place where she’d lost so many children?

Daeron cried again, his face reddened and wrinkled. He was so hungry, she could nearly feel it herself. She… she could feel it. When she looked down at herself, she saw two dark stains on her chemise right above her breasts. Her milk had finally come in, which meant -

“I can feed them.”

The old maid looked aghast. “Princess, there is no need - ”

“I want to do it.” She was their mother, why shouldn’t she be the one to feed them? It was her body that made them, that brought them into the world. It made sense that it would continue to care for them even now. “Can you show me how?”

It took a moment for the maid to close her mouth before she smiled gently. “I’ve raised nine children myself, princess. I think I know a few tricks.”

The maid had gone by the time Aemond woke.

Daeron was still suckling at her left breast while Aenar had fallen asleep using the right as his pillow. She had not realized how heavy and uncomfortable they had felt until the boys had drunk from her, easing the pressure that she’d become accustomed to.

“You should not be doing that yourself,” Aemond muttered as he raised himself on an elbow. His eye darted from son to son, only ever glancing over her exposed breasts. Once, he loved to worship them, quite similarly to how his sons fed from her now. “Where is the wetnurse?”

Did he not know that Alys had left? Had no one told him of the death of his child?

No. Those were the faint remnants of tear tracks lining his cheeks, and there was a deep sadness in his eye that was not there when he held his sons for the first time. He knew. He knew, and he was grieving, though he was fighting to hide it. She still saw it.

Perhaps that was the real reason he never returned to King’s Landing during the war - he knew she would be able to see the guilt on his face.

“There is no other wetnurse,” she explained gently. “Alys left. They’re looking for another woman now.”

Aemond froze, his gaze growing distant. She could not decipher his expression. Rage? Guilt? Sorrow? Grief?

“I’m sorry, Aemond.” He frowned and shook his head, but she continued. “Truly, I am.”

“It’s better this way,” he whispered. He didn’t believe it. Neither did she.

He reached out to her. No, not to her, but to Aenar, gently stroking his hair. She allowed him to take the babe and hold him against his own chest.

Aenar opened his eyes and looked up at his father. Then, he smiled.

Aemond took in a deep breath. “That boy should never have existed,” he said, letting Aenar take hold of his thumb and mouth at it. “I already had what I needed. And wanted.”

So it was a boy. Another son. A brother for her own. Would he have had his father’s nose, as Daeron did? Or his stern brow, like Aenar? Gods, why did she care?

“You are allowed to mourn him. He was innocent. I bear him no ill will.” Bastard or no, a babe was a babe, blameless of his parents’ sins. Deep in her heart, she mourned him, as well.

Again, Aemond shook his head. “I cannot mourn what never should have been.” He turned his head to face her, face open and pleading. “And I am mourning too much already.”

“I am alive. Aenar is alive. There is nothing to mourn.”

“You know that is not what I mean, ābrazȳrītsos.”

She did. He mourned not for the loss of a life, but for the loss of their life. The life they should have shared, and would have, had Aemond not strayed. In truth, she mourned for it, too.

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a moment as Daeron finally finished feeding, stretching his little arms to push her breast away. She pulled her robe closed again to combat the chill.

Aemond raised a hand to help her. She flinched away. He winced in response.

“Ābrazȳrītsos, please.” His voice was already breaking, his eye watering. The sight should have tugged at her heart. His begging should have fanned the flames of her anger. But looking at him, she felt very little of anything, save a small seed of pity. “Alys is gone. My… the bastard is gone. Can we not return to the way we were? Pretend none of this ever happened? Can’t you forgive me at last?”

The answer came without hesitation.

“No, Aemond.”

Within her, there was no longer a grassland, barren with loneliness and despair. The never-ending field of raging fire had also vanished. In its place was a small, lush garden, safely contained within tall stone walls draped with flowers and a polished iron gate – locked firmly, but perhaps not sealed forever.

“I shall always be your sister, your blood, and the mother of your children.” Daeron cooed, as if he knew she was talking about him, and she could not help but smile down at him. “I will remain your wife in the eyes of gods and men. And when Aegon dies, I will be your faithful queen.”

Aemond shook as his breath quickened, failing to keep the heartbreak. “You will be a wonderful queen, ābrazȳrītsos. I know it.”

She pulled away, taking Aenar from him and into her empty arm. “But I will never again be your ābrazȳrītsos.” She forced herself to ignore the whimpering, broken cry that escaped him, the breath that carried it echoing like a death rattle. “I will not share your bed. And I will no longer allow you to hold my heart.”

Between desperate sobs, Aemond raised his head to face her. Utter devastation lay in his eye, but so too did acceptance. Anguished surrender. “My heart is and always shall be yours.”

I don’t want it, her mind told her, even as her heart cried, I will cherish it forever.

But her decision was made. In all but name, their marriage – their once legendary romance – was finished. A few fragments of love remained but would never be repaired. Could never be.

Slowly, she rose from the bed, her sons still in her arms. Aemond began to reach for her, but when she did not even acknowledge him, he covered his face with his hands and wept. Though it tugged at her heart, it was the same she would feel for any man weeping so, no longer the instinctive pull of a wife. She did not comfort him.

The soft, pitiful sounds of Aemond’s grief faded as she walked toward the eastern window, settling herself in the cushioned seat just beneath it.

Daeron smiled, watching the trembling branches of an oak tree dotted with the first tight green buds of the season. Aenar angled his head just so, until the sun warmed every bit of his fat, pink face, then promptly fell asleep. She sighed, taking in the sweet scent of spring on the wind, and realized she had not breathed so easily in months.

It was a lovely morning in Harrenhal.

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nanpecan · 2 months ago

Text

₊✩‧₊˚once more to see you˚₊✩‧₊ pt 4

{nanami x f!reader}

pt 1. pt 2. pt 3.

˚₊✩‧₊summary: You’re a manager at Jujutsu Kaisen and you've now had two extremely intimate encounters with grade 1 sorcerer Nanami Kento. After surviving a terrifying encounter with a curse you feel like you can finally think clearly. Nanami wants to talk to you as well, is it finally time to put it all out there?

˚₊✩‧₊tags: nanami x fem!reader, slight angst, explicit smut (mdni) !!

˚₊✩‧₊word count: 7.8k (sorry not sorry)

˚₊✩‧₊author’s note: I wrote like five different versions of this chapter and this is the one i'm finally happy with. I love a good confession. I hope y'all enjoy the ending heheheh!

˚₊✩‧₊obligatory mistki song to accompany this chapter

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You woke up to a bright, sterile light flooding your surroundings. You were in the infirmary. You couldn’t remember how you got there but you blushed as you remembered Nanami outside of the office. He had probably brought you here after you passed out. You propped yourself up and looked down at your body. You had been stripped of your suit jacket and button up and were now in a white undershirt. Your right arm was hooked up to an IV. You looked over at your left and took in the aftermath of the hasty healing. The arm looked almost completely normal but the skin was a little bit discolored, more pink, like a fresh scar.

You pressed down on your rib cage and didn’t feel pain anymore. Shoko must have fixed you up. Your neck felt better and you cleared your throat. No pain. You put a hand up to your throat and massaged it thinking back to how close you had been to dying.

You spotted movement from the corner of your eye and turned your head towards it. Shoko was walking up to you. “Are you an angel?” You said as you smiled at her.

She shook her head. “You are just full of surprises.” She pulled up a chair next to you and sat down. “Did you know you could use RCT?”

You looked at her and nodded slowly. “Not well, that’s why I have this scar on my lip. I discovered it in my fourth year. I don’t have enough output to heal anything major.”

“You say that but you were able to patch yourself up pretty well for being inexperienced. And the two victims, they’re saying the curse’s bite was clean, but I think something else happened.” She wasn’t saying any of this in an accusatory manner but something made you uneasy.

“I…”

“You used recycled cursed energy didn’t you?” You stared at her briefly before finally nodding. Even though you had never been told it was bad, it felt wrong to admit it.

“I don’t know what happened, I just suddenly knew what to do. I grabbed a smaller curse and…” you made a sharp inhale noise, “and then I felt the weight in my hand and I was able to” you made a whoosh sound with your mouth. “And then it just worked.” You frowned as you realized how stupid that sounded.

“I see.” She understood. You shook off your surprise.

“Talking about it now…it feels wrong, like I shouldn’t have done it.”

“It is wrong.” She said simply. “Well, it’s taboo.” She looked up at you. “It’s not a technique just anyone can use, the old heads think it would be used inappropriately by the wrong people. Under the right circumstances it would allow for a sorcerer to have an unlimited power supply and become basically invincible.” She sighed. “They always think the worst of people. You’re not like that are you?” You looked at her and shook your head. “Good.” She stood up. “Take my advice, don’t tell anyone what you did. Falsify your report.”

“It won’t make sense how I was able to defeat the curse then.”

“Lie, tell them it was weak. It just caught you by surprise, they have no reason to suspect anything as of now.”

You looked down at your hands bitterly. If you falsified it and called it weak your little outburst would be unjustified. The students could have been facing an unimaginable danger.

“Will you teach me?” you asked.

Shoko smiled. “Nanami asked me the same thing,” you glanced at her curiously. “If I could teach you how to correctly use RCT I mean.” She stared at you looking for a reaction. You didn’t have one. She smirked. “You should give him a chance. I’ve never seen him so interested in someone.”

You felt your face burn up and blushed. “He told me he wasn’t interested.” You said softly.

“He talks out of his ass to look cool. He probably didn’t mean it.”

“It’s probably only because we-“ you stopped yourself and blushed again.

Shoko laughed. “Oh I know.”

“You do?” You said horrified.

“Nanami’s one of my dearest friends, I got it out of him. He looked frazzled the next day and I always get the information I want.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s so hard headed and in denial of how he feels.” You looked down at your hands. “I can see you’re both like that.” She grabbed your hand. “I think you’d be good for him.” She smiled softly. “I haven’t really known you for very long but your spirit reminds me of someone. You act like the weight of the real world hasn’t affected you, but I’ll admit I did some digging and know that you’ve gone through a lot.” You didn’t look at her. “You’re very optimistic for someone who’s lost so much. I think you should at least give it a shot.”

“If I do…” she listened intently, “will you teach me?” She laughed.

“Sneaky.” She shrugged. “We’d have to rearrange your schedule and find a reason to justify it to the higher ups.” She sighed. “But sure, why not.”

You nodded thankful. “Speaking of managers…why don't you give Ijichi a shot?”

She smiled and shook her head. “I’d ruin him. Besides, I’m not into younger men.”

Shoko discharged you about an hour later, you both got caught up talking about a little bit of everything. You looked at the clock on the wall and saw it was almost 7 pm. You went out to the hallway. You needed to call a ride to get the car back from the museum, all your things were in there, you had been too exhausted to think about grabbing them before you left. You had a report to write.

“Can I speak with you for a moment?” You jumped and turned to look. Nanami smiled slightly. “I didn’t mean to startle you, my apologies.”

“It’s okay…were you waiting the whole time?”

“I was.”

You were a bit surprised. “You should have come in! We weren’t really discussing anything important. I wouldn’t have taken so long if I had known you were waiting.”

“It’s alright, I wanted to speak with you privately and there are ears everywhere in there.” He seemed irritated and you had a feeling he was referring to Shoko.

“Ah, I need to walk to the main entrance, would you want to walk with me?” For some reason you didn’t feel any sort of resentment towards him, you felt rather calm in his presence. Having almost died four hours ago probably had something to do with it. “I need to go to the museum again to get the school car.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“Um,” you thought about it. You smiled at him. “Let’s see how this talk goes first.”

You walked down the hallway with him. Neither of you spoke for the first minute.

“I overheard some of your conversation with the office worker. What happened today?” he said.

You frowned as you thought about it. Should you tell him about your RCT? You could trust him, right? You looked at him and scrunched your face. “I unexpectedly picked up one of Ryomen Sukuna’s fingers that had been unwrapped from its seal.” He stiffened. “I managed to stop a curse from getting it but at the cost of doing something a little unorthodox. I broke a couple of ribs, ruptured some internal organs and almost degloved my left arm but it was nothing a little RCT couldn’t fix.” You said with a smile. “Anyway, I was a little upset because while I was told the nearest sorcerer was on the way, they sent two students. Two first years at that.” You furrowed your brows. “If things had played out a little differently. If I had failed they would be in over their heads.” You sighed. “I probably sound stupid, or like I’m doubting their abilities. It’s just, they’re kids, they shouldn't have been the first line of defense.” You turned to look at Nanami after he didn’t say anything back. “I know it’s sort of silly, we’re a school after all… I think I have a soft spot for them because my younger sister is around their age.”

“I share the same sentiment.” Nanami said, a somber look on his face.. “I don’t think it’s silly.”

“Thank you.” You said with a smile. You both walked in silence again. “What..what did you want to talk to me about?” Nanami stayed silent for a bit longer. You looked at him again. “I have a feeling I know what it’s about. For some reason last night feels like so long ago…For me at least.”

“I did want to discuss that, but seeing as you’ve had a long day…”

You laughed a little. “Don’t worry about it. If anything it might make me feel better, I’ve had a lot on my mind lately but I think today snapped everything into perspective. It was a good wake up call.” You put your hands on your cheeks and shook your head. “I’ve been thinking too much about myself and when that happens I start to overthink and criticize everything I do or that others do to me.” You sighed. “So let’s talk it out.”

“Why are you so convinced I wanted someone else every time we’ve been together?”

“Straight to the point, fair enough.” You muttered.

“You told me it could have been anyone, and that you weren’t the one I was hoping for. What did you mean by that?” He asked.

“I..I just thought that maybe,” you felt your face getting hot. You sighed, “After you were affected by the curse, I mean even before that, you might have known something was going to happen and that maybe you had expected Akari to drive you originally and so you might have been a little disappointed when…when it was me instead.” Nanami was silent. You turned away from him. “You don’t have to say anything, I’ve already accepted it.”

You heard him let out a breath of laughter and turned quickly to look at him. He put a hand up to hide his smile. “I apologize.” You frowned. “I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “You’re so quick to resolve your invented problems instead of talking them out. I mean, you’ve already accepted what? That I had, based on a mission that was changed three times, somehow masterminded a plan to sleep with a manager?” You looked at the floor embarrassed.

“When you say it like that…” you muttered.

“I’m flattered you think I’m capable of such forward thinking, really.” He seemed more relaxed. “How do you explain what we did last night then? If it wasn’t you I wanted, why would I come for you again?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe you think I’m easy.”

He stopped walking and got serious. You looked back over your shoulder at him. “I would never think that.” He seemed disgusted at the idea. He walked up to you, his gaze softening. “I’m afraid I continue to hurt you without meaning to. I need to be more honest, as you have.” He looked at you and you couldn’t help but blush. “If it had been anyone else in the car I would have had much, much more restraint.” He removed his glasses and looked you right in the eyes. “There’s something about you that draws me to you. I can’t explain it, I don’t want to explain it, and against my better judgment I can’t seem to stay away from you.”

You stared back shocked. “I-“

“Today something in my gut told me to wait for you to return from your mission. I felt sick with worry when I heard something had gone wrong. I could have just left you with Shoko and asked for an update later but I couldn’t leave you. I’m not acting like myself, and it’s frustrating, you’re frustrating. You come up with solutions instead of speaking to me and I admire your independence, but I can’t help wanting to be involved in your decisions.” You didn’t know what to say. “I tend to be cold towards people in an effort to isolate myself. I’ve been hurt in the past and the last thing I want is to let someone in when everything in our lives is so impermanent. However, it’s too late for me.” He looked at you now with a deep sadness in his eyes. “You’ve broken my defenses. I need you.”

You continued to stare at him wordlessly, shocked at everything he had just confessed. He liked you. He really really liked you. He needed you. You blushed and stuttered over your next words. “I- I don’t know what to say.” His face was slowly turning pink. “Me? I broke through to you?” He nodded. “I’m not very special.” You muttered quietly.

“You’re very good at underestimating yourself.” You gave him a look. “Despite the sorcerer world turning its back on you, you continue to be loyal to it, and you care about the people around you. If I had been interested in Akari you would have helped me, correct?”

“Yes.” You said.

“You’re either a very good liar or you’ve got a good heart. That’s very rare.” He stepped closer to you and you thought he might try to kiss you again. “If you had driven Satoru and he had been affected by the curse would you have let him sleep with you?”

You made a face and frowned. “No.”

“If it had been anyone else?”

“No.” You had to look away from his intense gaze. “The reason Akari passed me the mission was because she knew I liked you,” you blushed and looked up quickly. “We didn’t know what kind of mission it was! That’s not the reason at all I didn’t know it would be a-“

“I believe you.”

You looked at him nervously. He had backed up some. You were both silent for a bit. “I’m happy.” You finally said. “But I’m…hesitant?” You frowned and looked down at your hands. “I…I mean I almost died today. Back at the cafe, when you said that romantic matters weren’t really smart in our line of work I honestly thought you were making some sort of excuse to turn me down. I know you’re not one to do that, I was just overthinking everything. But now…” you looked up at him. He seemed to understand and solemnly put his glasses back on. “I’m not very strong. Shoko can teach me how to use RCT and I’m so grateful for that, but it may mean I’ll be out in the field more. Even if I’m not, there’s no guarantee I’ll ever really be safe on missions. I don’t want to hurt you.” He was silent. “The moment I thought I was going to die I had nothing in my mind. I fought back of course but I didn’t have any regrets, I didn’t have anyone to worry about. All my dues have been paid and I’ve set everything up for when I’m gone. I…I didn’t even think about you.” You frowned. “I shouldn’t have said that.” You didn’t want to look at him. That must’ve hurt. “I thought you didn’t like me, I thought you-“

“I understand.” Your chest felt tight. His tone was neutral again.

“It seems we’ve switched positions huh.” You said.

“I’m not giving up on you,” he stated.

“What?”

“I’ve found something that I want and I’ve made a promise to myself to not have any regrets when I die.” He came closer to you again. “I believe in the separation of business and pleasure. It’s dangerous to mix both, however as I’ve said, I need you.” He leaned in closer. He was going to kiss you this time you were sure. “Even if we don’t work out, even if you turn me down right now, I wouldn’t regret it. I feel as if I’ve said what I needed to.” He leaned even closer and you felt his breath on your face. “Are you not even curious to see if we could do it?” He whispered and you closed your eyes. He was going to kiss you. You felt his warmth fade and you opened your eyes to see him smirking and backing away. “You’re very honest with me, but you should be honest with yourself.” He started walking down the hallway leaving you standing there. You realized you had puckered your lips and everything. “I don’t mean to be rude when I say this, but,” he stopped for a moment. “Will you let fear rule your life?”

You watched him walk. Will you let fear rule your life? It ringed in your ears. Up until now you had. After all, you were always the first to call yourself a coward. You hated confrontation. You had been so afraid of curses and of being hurt. But could you have done what you had if you were truly a coward? You had saved two lives, just today. You had fought tooth and nail to get that finger and unknowingly saved two students from meeting a worse fate. You had endured the rigorous years at Jujutsu Tech and everything in between. You had left home when you knew you were unwanted. You should have been afraid then, but you weren’t. You started tearing up a little.

“Are you coming?” You looked up to see Nanami had stopped and turned towards you.

He looked like he always had, well put together, confident in his stance, not a crease in his suit, so utterly unbothered. He glanced at his watch. You began walking towards him. Standing right in front of him you looked straight up at him. He looked down at you and cocked his head. You grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. You hugged him, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into his suit. “Thank you.” You said to him. “I want to live fearlessly.” You looked up into his glasses, the light was hitting them just right and you saw his eyes through them. You felt his heartbeat against your chest and you lifted yourself up on your toes to kiss him.

He kissed you back gently, letting you take the lead before he flipped you to push you against the wall and attacked your lips. You laughed against his mouth and he backed his head away to look at you.

“We’re in public.”

He scowled. “I don’t care.” He looked serious and you know what he was going to say next. “Come home-“

“I haven’t been home in a while. I need to check on my plants.”

He gave you a look. “Plants?”

“I didn’t even get to eat the sandwiches you bought me.”

He kissed you again quickly. “I live near the café, I’ll buy you as many as you want.”

“You really like me, huh.”

He laughed and you smiled as you watched him. “You make me smile. Not many people can.” he backed up and you watched as he fixed his tie. “You’re going to have to think of a better excuse than your plants,” he said.

“And why do you want me to come over so badly?” you asked in a teasing tone. You both continued to walk down the hall.

“Well right now I think Ieiri would want someone to watch over you, given your condition.”

“Right, my condition,” you agreed sarcastically.

“You need someone to take care of you,” he said. “It wouldn’t do if you just collapsed again on your way out. As someone with a higher rank, it’s within my responsibility to take care of you.”

“Within your responsibility, I see.” He nodded.

“I’m glad you agree. I’m only suggesting this out of concern of course.”

“Oh yes, I’m so grateful that Grade 1 Sorcerer, Nanami Kento, can take time out of his busy schedule to watch over me. In fact I am feeling a bit faint, thank goodness he’s so responsible.”

He nodded again, “I really am.”

You laughed and felt your chest growing warm. “Well then, is it within your responsibility to do this?” You put your hand on his shoulder turning him towards you for another kiss.

You pulled back to see he had no reaction, but the tips of his ears turned pink. You tilted your head, staring at him with a smile on your face. His lips tightened as he pretended to be deep in thought. He sighed, “I would say so, besides you requested it so kindly, who am I to turn you away.”

You laughed. “I’m glad my kindness isn’t lost on you. Would you be so kind as to kiss me again?” you asked, batting your eyelashes. He finally smiled back at you and pulled you in for another kiss. He put his hands up to hold your face close to him.

“So I take it, you're agreeing?”

You mimicked his thinking face, “Hmmm, sure. Why not.” He kissed you again.

“I would invite you out to eat beforehand, however I’m sure you’d like to clean up first.”

“I’d love a shower right now, but I have to drive to Naka-ku for the car, remember.” He frowned and you kissed him again. “Patience Nanami, you’ll get what you want after.”

He scoffed and squeezed your face a little before dropping his hands. “You’re in no shape to get worked up. I do genuinely want to make sure you’re alright.”

You frowned at him now. “I’m tougher than I look.” he raised an eyebrow. “But maybe you’re right…especially because you haven’t been very gentle with me.” You smiled but you saw his expression darken.

“I do apologize,” he said.

You shrugged. “It wasn’t a complaint.”

You heard footsteps coming from the corner ahead and stepped back from Nanami. Daisuke appeared from around the corner and looked shocked to see you.

“Y/N! I was just coming to check on you.” His eyes went to Nanami who stood there silently.

He nodded in acknowledgement. “Daisuke.”

“Nanami.” Daisuke said back respectfully.

“I’m okay, I was on my way to get the car from the museum.” Daisuke was still staring at Nanami, “Ah, Nanami escorted me to Shoko after I dropped off the finger, I guess I passed out.”

Daisuke turned back to you worried. “You’re okay now right?”

“Yes, I’m practically brand new, Shoko fixed me up. And Nanami offered to give me a ride to the museum.”

“Ah,” he glanced at him again. Nanami checked his watch. “Well, don’t worry about that, Akari went out to get the car. She should be back in any minute now. She's worried sick about you. She had me check on you.” You looked at him curiously. Why hadn’t she texted you. You felt around for your phone and realized you didn’t have it. You must have dropped it at the museum.

“Well you can tell her I’m okay. I seem to have dropped my phone, I’ll wait for her to get here.” Daisuke nodded and looked at Nanami who checked his watch yet again.

“Ah, I can wait with Y/N if you have somewhere to be sir.” Daisuke said.

Nanami looked up and frowned. “No need, I’ll walk her to where she needs to go.”

Daisuke seemed confused. “Okay…”

“Walk with us. Do you know where she’ll be?” You all started walking, Nanami behind you and Daisuke typing away on his phone.

“She’ll probably be in the garage, she has to check the cars tonight before they’re serviced.”

“Okay, do you know if she needs any help?”

“She’ll probably say no.” He typed silently. “She said no.”

“Stubborn.” You said. You turned back to look at Nanami and smiled at him, he seemed to lighten up some. “Well I’m not keeping you from anything right Daisuke?”

“No, I’m going to leave once I get to the garage. It’s past my time to head out.”

“Thank you for helping me out today.”

He nodded as he typed something else. “Of course. She’s pulling in now.” As the three of you walked, Daisuke continued to type away at his phone. You tried to sneak a glance at what he was typing but could only make out he was messaging with Akari. You suddenly felt Nanami pull on the back of your shirt. You smiled and slowed down to walk next to him instead of Daisuke, Daisuke didn’t seem to notice. You looked up at him and smiled again picking at his collar after you noticed his tie was crooked. He grabbed your hand as you pulled away and you blushed.

Daisuke stopped in front of the parking garage and looked around for his car. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waved at you and bowed slightly at Nanami. Nanami nodded.

“So you’re the jealous type,” you said as you both watched Daisuke walk away.

Nanami frowned. “No, I’m not.” He crossed his arms, but he was a little flustered. “I was just annoyed that he interrupted us.��

“Sure…” you teased.

He sighed, “Maybe you should go check on your plants.”

You smacked him playfully and laughed. “Shut up.”

“Y/N!” You heard Akari call out for you. You turned to see her rushing towards you. “Back to back you have me worried about you. I need you to stop getting into trouble, please.” She glanced back at Nanami and bowed slightly. “Good evening.”

“Akari,” he said, nodding back.

“I’m okay, a lot happened but it all worked out. I’ll write a report tonight and submit it first thing tomorrow. I don’t have the energy to retell it twice.”

“Okay,” Akari said. “Oh I found your phone,” she pulled it out of her pocket. “They’re saying it was a gas leak and that a broken pipe left two staff members with injuries that needed amputations. It’s all over the news.”

You frowned. “Besides the amputations, are the staff members okay?”

“Yes, the man is still in shock, the woman has been directed and interviewed.”

You nodded satisfied. “I’m going to head home. Please let me know if you need help with inventory tonight.”

Akari sighed and shook her head, “Don’t worry about it. Let me know when you get home.” She glanced over at Nanami, “Do you need anything sir?”

He shook his head. “I was just talking with Y/N, I wanted to make sure she was okay.”

Akari smiled, “You’re so kind.” you made a face at her when you recognized the sarcasm and the look she was giving him. She looked at you confused. It’s okay you mouthed at her. She looked at you still confused, we talked! She couldn’t read your lips. We talked, you repeated. She shook her head.

“We talked it out.” You said out loud. You looked back at Nanami. “I told her about the car..” he blushed and nodded. “I also told her you turned me down and that you were kind of an asshole, I was mad.” He smiled a little. “But we talked it out.” You turned to Akari. “We’re good now.”

“So what are you dating her now?”

“It’s not-“

“I was asking him,” she said pointedly. You rolled your eyes at her. She was being protective, which you had been grateful for in the past but now you were a little annoyed.

“She hasn’t fully agreed, but as of now she knows I’m interested in her.”

“It’s getting late,” you murmured trying to change the subject.

Akari looked at you confused. “You’ve fawned over him for the last two years and now you can’t give him an answer?”

“I’m going to hit you.”

“Well I’m proud of you, know your worth.” She turned to Nanami, “You’d be lucky to have her.”

“I’m very aware.” He said.

You were so embarrassed. “I’m going to go now.” you grumbled. “I’ll talk to you later, Akari.”

“Text me,” She said, waving you off.

Nanami walked you to his car. You weren’t really surprised when you saw it. It was a foreign make, you wouldn’t have expected less. He opened the door for you and you nervously sat down. When he came in and turned the car on you noticed the radio was off.

“You really don’t listen to music do you?”

Nanami looked at the radio and shook his head. “I don’t. But you could play something if you’d like.”

“No, it’s okay, I won’t change it up for you.” You both rode in silence as he pulled away from the school. “Why don’t you listen to music?”

“You can play something if you’d like.” He said smiling.

“No, I’m just curious.”

He was silent for a bit longer and you were afraid you might have pushed it. “I used to have a friend while I was attending jujutsu tech.” You knew who he was talking about. “We were teenagers together,” Nanami smiled fondly. “He used to show me all types of music. Every day it was something new, he was very into the charts and new releases. I could never keep up.” His smile dropped and he was a little more somber. “After he passed I just…”

“I see.” You say quietly. “Thank you for sharing with me. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“Don’t be, I understand it’s a strange habit.”

“No it’s sort of sweet, it’s like a moment of silence for him.” You worried you might have overstepped once that left your mouth, but he smiled.

“Something like that.”

You continued to chat until you reached the apartment building you had pulled up to two days ago. You turned to him. “I’m curious to see what your place looks like. If your car is any indication, I bet it’s nice.”

“It’s a bit messy at the moment, I wasn’t really expecting company.”

Messy? You looked around at the spotless apartment. The hues of greys and browns elegantly accentuated the minimalist design of his furniture. “This is really nice,” you said looking around. You noticed a large bookshelf in the living room filled with books of all different thicknesses and colors. You smiled as you saw a pile of different books scattered around the coffee table. “Were you looking for something?”

“Ah, thats…” you turned to him curiously before looking back at the books. Pride and Prejudice, The Sound of Waves, Jane Eyre, the more you looked the more you realized they were all romance books.

You slowly turned to look at him, he was looking down at the books, his face pink. “Were you reading through these..for me?” you asked softly. You didn’t want him to think you were teasing him.

After a beat he nodded. “I'm afraid I'm a bit clueless when it comes to romance,” The flush to his face had calmed but his ears were still burning. “I was looking for...help or rather, inspiration if you will.”

You turned to face him and moved directly in front of his frame. You slowly reached up to remove his glasses. He moved his face closer to allow you access. You didn’t know why but you were suddenly very aware of your fingertips on his skin, brushing along his temples as you removed his specs. You pulled them down and stared into his hazel eyes. “Well, I don’t think you really need the help..” you said, you felt your cheeks burning as you thought about what you were about to say next. “I’ve already liked you for some time now.”

He took a small step closer to you. He carefully pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and moved his hand under your chin. You saw his eyes flicker down your body before looking back into your eyes.

He sighed before backing away from you completely. “You’ve had a long day, you should wash up and get some rest.”

You couldn’t help but pout. “I -”

“The bathroom is down that hall to the right, it’s connected to the bedroom. I’ll prepare some food while you shower. Is there anything you’re allergic to?” he asked.

“No, um thank you.” he nodded.

“There are clean towels in the bathroom. I'll lay out some clothes for you in the room. They might not be the best fit but-”

“Thank you.” you said again. As much as you had wanted to move forward he was right, you were exhausted. And you’re sure you probably smelled a little; a mix of sweat, blood and the lingering smell of the infirmary.

You stepped out of the shower, patting yourself dry and went up to the mirror. Non-fog, ofcourse. You quickly brushed your hair and wrapped the towel around yourself stepping into his bedroom. On the bed he had neatly laid out a white shirt and a pair of shorts with a drawstring. You changed into them and reached for your phone. You had forgotten to text Akari.

-Did you make it home???

She had sent the text about ten minutes ago.

-Yes, I did, sorry.

You replied.

-Good good. By the way what the hell happened?

-With Sukuna’s finger or nanami?

-THATS RHE ÍTEM YOU RETREIVED??

-Yeah lol

-That’s not funny what the hell, I’m going to kill Renzo

So that’s what the front desk guy's name was, you made a note of it.

-Yeah, a curse was trying to get to it and injured those people and almost got me but I managed to make it out with all four limbs…barely.

- I’m shocked you weren’t more injured, not that you’re weak or anything but this is serious. We need to check on the location of all the other fingers. You have to emphasize that in your report.

- …

-What?

-…let’s say I ALLEGEDLY have to tweak some things on the report…(I’m only telling you because you’re one of the only people in my life I can trust)

-What you fucked the old man again?

-Akari….

-Okay okay, I’m sorry

-let’s say I ALLEGEDLY used RCT to heal the injured and myself some, and I ALLEGEDLY used an unorthodox technique and then maybe ALLEGEDLY Shoko advised me against telling anyone about it

-Then ALLEGEDLY why are you telling me this over text shut up and tell me about it tomorrow in person I’m deleting these texts good night, love you, glad you’re safe

-Fair enough, good night.

She made a good point. You thought to yourself. You went back and deleted the texts. A futile attempt at covering your tracks.

You sighed, It didn’t matter honestly. At the end of the day your report was not likely to be read. No one had died, the finger was retrieved and you, a weak manager, had managed to survive the whole ordeal. Your mind wandered back to this morning and the death of the sorcerer. You briefly wondered if Gojo had retrieved the kid.

There was a knock at the door, interrupting your thoughts.

“You can come in.” You said.

“I just wanted to let you know the food is almost ready. Take your time.” Nanami’s voice came through. You stared at the door and felt that warm feeling in your chest again. You were in his house, in his bedroom, wearing his clothes. How the hell had you managed all this.

You stepped out of the room, trying your best to not trip over the slippers you were wearing- also his. Nanami looked up at you from the kitchen, he was wearing an apron and turning down the heat on something in a pot.

“It smells incredible.”

“It’s nothing fancy.”

“Do you need help?”

He shook his head and looked back down at the pan in front of him. He carefully transferred the contents onto a plate.

You ate dinner in silence, the tension thick. You discussed some books here and there, but the conversation would always end in awkward pauses. Both stopping before saying something that would push the tension over the top. You finished dinner and began collecting the plates.

“You’re a guest at my place, I would be ashamed if I made you clean up after me.”

You pushed his reaching hands away. “Please, it's the least I can do. I insist.” He didn’t move. “Nanami go shower. I want to do this, please let me.” You looked down at your hands. “I feel like you’ve done so much for me,” you looked up, meeting his eyes. “Please.” you whispered.

He stared at you and you had to do your best not to smile. He was struggling to keep his composure. He nodded curtly before quickly heading into the bathroom. You couldn’t help but feel bad. You had him wrapped around your finger. You smiled to yourself as you cleaned up. Whatever you had done to deserve this, you hoped you did it in every lifetime.

You finished cleaning up the dishes and wiping the table and went over to the books again. You traced a finger over the spine of the books in his collection. Your attention turned to a photograph. It was him as a teenager. With him you saw a young Shoko, Gojo, Geto and the boy you knew to be Haibara. You looked at his face and felt a tug at your chest, he was really just a boy. His eyes were so familiar to you. Your eyes switched back to Nanami and you smiled as you saw the annoyed look on his teenage face. You wanted to take a picture.

You reached for your phone only to find it wasn’t in your pocket. You must have left it in the bedroom. You could pop in there while he showered. It would be fine.

You made your way to the room listening for the sound of the bathroom fan. Still on, this should be okay. You opened the door and looked in to see a shocked Nanami, who had just finished securing a towel to his hip.

“I’m- I’m sorry!” you squeaked. Closing the door. You felt it stop before you shut it all the way. You looked up to see Nanami standing by the door holding it open. His hair was dripping wet, his body glittering with beads of water. You couldn’t help but stare.

“You’re really testing my patience.” He said through gritted teeth. “I wanted to at least try to have a proper meal, maybe a date, or some time to really get to know each other before I took you as mine again, but here we are. I don’t think I can last much longer.” He looked down at you and placed his hands on your waist, finding your figure, which had been lost in his shirt. “Giving you these clothes was my first mistake, I can’t help but think about how I could get used to seeing you like this all the time. Wearing my clothes, strutting around my apartment, eating my food, irrefutably mine.” He moved a hand down along your neck and pulled the shirt to the side revealing your collar bone. He moved his lips down and gently kissed along the ridge. “Will you let me have you once again? I promise to be gentle.”

You were silent, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt trying to ground yourself. You closed your eyes as you felt his teeth nip at your skin.

“Well?” he asked, kissing up along your neck.

“Yes, please. Always yes.” he moved up to your face and placed a hand on your chin lifting you up to kiss him. He was being so soft.

He grabbed your hand and led you towards his bedroom. You could feel your heart beating in your ears. You tried to calm yourself but had a feeling the night was only going to get more intense.

He slowly pushed you down onto the bed. You started to reach out for the towel around his waist but he stopped your hand. “Patience, Y/N,” he smiled coyly.

He reached for the edge of your shirt, lifting it to pull on the band of your shorts. You shifted back on your elbows as he lifted your hips and pulled the shorts down your legs. You readjusted your shirt to cover yourself. You didn’t have underwear on. He looked at you, his eyes locked onto your core. “It would be a shame to cover you up.” He reached for the hem of your shirt again and lifted it up. You obediently pulled your arms up allowing him to pull the shirt over your shoulders. He tossed the fabric aside and once again stared at you, his gaze intense and focused on your body.

He crawled onto the bed pulling you to the center. You readjusted yourself to lay your head back on the pillows as he moved to the center of the bed, his knees resting between your legs. You looked at the towel and tried to reach for it again. He smirked and pushed your hand aside again. He backed up and you watched him lower his face down closer to your thighs. He kissed the inside of your thighs softly, making his way closer and closer to your mewling core. He sucked a little on the skin and you moaned softly. You looked down at him and felt the heat in your stomach grow. He looked up at you, eyelashes glistening with droplets of water. You ran a hand through his wet hair, tugging on it slightly as he sucked on your sensitive skin again.

“Please.” You whimpered. He released your skin with a wet plop and hovered his face over your cunt. He moved his nose down running it between your folds and you felt the tips of your ears burn as you watched him take a deep inhale. “Nanami…”

“From the moment I tasted you, I knew I was ruined.” He ran a stiff tongue between your folds and you gasped. “You don’t know how much I’ve craved you since then.” He dove in. Licking, prodding, sucking, you unraveled under his touch trying your best to hang on to the feeling building up your core. You didn’t want it to end. “Nanami!” you gasped as he latched onto your clit and toyed with it in his mouth. “Nanami, Nanami…” you couldn’t think, all you knew was his name and this feeling. He suddenly moved back and you gasped. Your hips were raised and you wriggled trying to chase the feeling. You hadn’t come, but you wish you had. “Kento,” you whined. You saw a flame light in his eyes.

“I’m being selfish,” he said, adjusting himself between your legs again. You watched, hypnotized by his hands as they reached to undo his towel. “But I’m afraid your cries were getting me close.” The towel fell to the side and you dug your fingers into the sheets craving the sight in front of you desperately.

You took in his entire body from head to toe. His hair was glistening in the light, a sheen of sweat over his flushed face, his body was so… “Beautiful.” you said out loud. “I shouldn’t be calling you beautiful, maybe, but you are,” you said. “Nanami you’re-” He pulled your legs up onto his thighs as he sat back and ran his erect cock between your folds.

He curved his body over yours, placing his hand under your chin again. “Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe you,” he said. He placed a kiss on your lips before pulling himself up again. He ran a finger from the side of your neck down along your body. He passed over your perked nipples, and traced down the curve of your waist and to your hip, resting his hand there and gripping you on either side, securing you against his member. “I’ll try to be gentle, I really will,” he said. You thought he might be trying to assure himself more than you.

Slowly he pressed his tip against your center and clenched his jaw as your wet folds enveloped him easily. He slid in slowly, sinfully, his face twitching as he felt your warmth consume him. He bottomed out and you bucked your hips as you felt him reach that spot deep inside of you. Your breathing was rapid as you tried your best not to move against him. You wanted him to move, you wanted him to take you in the same desperate way he had in the car, but he wasn’t moving.

He waited for you to settle before pulling out just as slowly. He began pushing in again. You moaned, you were beginning to get annoyed. He was being gentle, sure, but a little too gentle for your liking. You let him continue. He bottomed out again but this time he bucked his hips up to purposefully hit that spot and you let out a gasp. He pulled out, not all the way this time, before pushing back in. He was speeding up, but barely. You didn’t know if you could take this. God, it felt good but the pleasure was excruciating. You moaned in ecstasy and squirmed under his touch. “Kento please.”

He stopped for a moment, taking in the sound of his name on your lips. He squeezed your hips as he continued at a slightly faster pace. You moaned underneath him. The wet sounds of your skin slapping against each other filled the room and you wrapped an arm around his neck. You couldn't take it any longer. You lifted yourself up, pushing him back and straddling his lap. He was still buried deep inside and you shivered at the shift in pressure in your lower abdomen.

“Y/N-”

“You had your fun.” You said before kissing him and grinding your hips into his, pushing him even deeper than you thought he could go. You moaned into his mouth, and began bouncing your hips desperately over him. You moved quickly, you were already so close. Just a little bit more, more, more. You felt your high topple over and you shook vigorously, your body twitching and your mouth open against his gasping lips. You felt him jut his hips up as the grip on your hips tightened. He gasped and you felt him shake against you as he came. You felt his cock twitch inside of you releasing deep inside of you.

You pulled him closer and pushed your face against his. You just wanted to be closer to him. You pressed your body into his as his hands traced up your spine. He kissed tender kisses into the skin of your neck and you moved to press your cheek into his. You nibbled on his earlobe and finally rested your head into the crook of his neck. You were both silent, breathing hard and taking time to memorize the feeling of your bare skin pressed together.

You could get used to this.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

˚₊✩‧₊nana here: nanami is mr. darcy coded and you can't tell me otherwise. thank you all for reading! I might continue with series but it'll be more of a personal project than anything haha. I'll definitely post updates if there are any. as always if you saw a typo, no you didn't.

again shout out to @zoldsick for reading and editing my wine drunk ramblings

pt. 1 pt. 2. pt. 3

˚₊✩‧₊ taglist: @wrldtups @rjreins @phattyboo90 @tnyblacklesbo @silkija @justwantedachange @inthedarkshadows000 @nniiyyaa @starkmila09 @sikuthealien @wifenanami @bloombb @kentos-glasses @inciteterr0r

352 notes · View notes

cozage · 1 year ago

Note

2k followers lets goooo!!! (Proud follower hereee!!!) And ive been wanting to request smth from you for a while now and i think this is the perfect opportunity !! Can u create some hesdcanons for sabo, law, luffy, zoro, and sanji (maybe shanks too?) where the reader wants to leave the crew/organization their in coz of smth from their past, making them have to? They could've already left, about to leave quietly, betrayed them unwillingly etc!!! Do your thing !

^ - ^

Angst to comfort plsss my heart cannot take anymore heartbreaks huhuhu

A/N: just did the captains for now :)

Characters: gn reader x Sabo, Law, Luffy, Shanks Total word count: 1.2k

Blackmail

Sabo

You were gone when Sabo woke up. No note, nothing. But you had knocked out some security guards in your escape off the island. So Sabo set off, trying to figure out where you had gone. He would go to the ends of the earth to find you again if he had to.

Some people called it denial. Some called it insanity. Some called it pitiful. He didn’t care. He had been called all those things before.

But he knew you. He knew that you wouldn’t betray him. Not like that. He refused to believe everything you two shared wasn’t just an act.

He chased you for weeks, following your tracks and just barely missing you at several encounters.

He was so close, and he couldn’t help but feel like you were leaving him a trail. You knew how to disappear. The fact that he could find you meant you wanted to be found.

When he finally found you, curled up in a bed with shackles around your arms as you slept, he knew you were doing everything against your will. The two men who were guarding you were easy enough to take care of, and he woke you up gently.

“We’re going home,” he whispered, unlocking your cuffs.

When you realized it was him, you began sobbing, apologizing for all the trouble you had caused. But he refused to accept your apologize-you owed him nothing of the sort. You were safe now, that’s what mattered.

After you return home and he’s certain you’re safe, he sets off to find the mastermind behind the whole blackmailing situation. He’ll never let anyone ever hurt you again, and those people need to be taught a lesson.

Law

Your plan was to slip out quietly, in the dead of night. You had snuck sleeping pills into everyone’s drinks, and you were certain they would be out until morning.

So your heart dropped when the light flicked on as you were stealthing through Law’s office to take your leave.

“Y/N,” Law’s voice was steady and alert. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving.” You refused to look at him. He’d be able to see through you in an instant.

“Is that why you attempted to drug me?” he asked, and you silently cursed yourself. Of course he would notice. “This isn’t like you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you said through gritted teeth. “Stay out of it.”

“I know you enough to realize your hands are clenched and your entire body is tight, which means you’re doing something you don’t want to do. I also know you won’t look at me when you’re lying, so you’re obviously hiding something.”

“Just stay out of it, Law.” You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if he got hurt.

He suddenly shambled in front of you, and you couldn’t hide your tear-filled eyes anymore. He stared down at you, slightly disappointed in your lack of trust in him.

“We can figure this out together,” he reminded you. “You’re not alone. And we’re stronger together than we are apart.”

You let out a sob and collapsed into his chest, thankful for his endless love and acceptance, even when you tried to push him away.

Luffy

Luffy didn’t understand what you meant by “leaving the crew”. Especially since you wrote it on a note.

“We’re all in agreement, right?” he asked his crew. “Y/N needs our help. So we’re going to help.”

Everyone was in instant agreement. A goodbye note wasn’t like you. Even if you did want to leave, they all deserved more than a note.

Luffy made it his top priority to find you. They scoured the island, searching for hours. But nobody found you.

The next day, Luffy was the first one awake, and he was on the island before Sanji could even make breakfast. He was searching, determined to find you.

When he finally rounded a corner and made eye contact with you, your eyes widened. “Leave me alone!” you hissed, and then you took off running.

He easily chased after you and tackled you to the ground. “You’re not leaving!” he yelled, pinning your arms to the ground. “Not like that!”

“Luffy!” you hissed. You both needed to be quiet, or he would be seen. “Please go! Just leave.”

“Haven’t you learned?” he asked, his voice breaking. “We’re a family. We solve problems together. You don’t leave notes saying goodbye. Don’t we mean anything to you? Don’t I?”

His big, sad eyes finally made you break down, explaining everything to him and how you couldn’t sail with him due to a problem you had on the island.

Needless to say, Luffy fixed that problem immediately and had already forgotten about it all by the time the two of you got back to the ship.

Shanks

“That’s a lot of supplies for a quick run to port.” Shanks’s joking tone was present, but you could hear that his voice held something else.

“Things to sell,” you replied smoothly. If you could get off the boat and away from the crew, then at least they wouldn’t be hurt in the process.

Shanks hummed, clearly not believing you. “Strange of you to sell your most prized possessions, yet leave the emeralds and diamonds we picked up from that other ship.”

“Shanks-”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on.”

You thought about running, but a glimmer from the crow’s nest told you that Yasopp was watching closely. Time to switch to Plan B. “I’m leaving.”

You could feel Shank’s gaze on you, his heart breaking at your words.

“I don’t like it here anymore,” you said, trying to keep your wits about you. “It’s suffocating. I can’t stand it.” You turned to look at him, mustering all the hatred you could. “I can’t stand any of you.”

You could see Shanks wrestling with your words, trying to decipher truth from lie. You had an excellent poker face, but unfortunately, he knew that as well.

“Kiss me, then.” Shanks walked toward you, and you stiffened at the thought. “You may be able to lie with your words, but your lips don’t lie when they’re pressed against mine. So let’s see if you’re telling the truth.”

“I never want to kiss you aga-” His lips crashed into yours, cutting your words off.

You tried to pull away, but you couldn’t. Your body simply wouldn’t let you. After a few moments, he pulled away, and you let out a soft whine in protest.

Shanks grinned, the answer to his question plain as day. He was relieved to know you didn’t actually hate him, but now there was an actual problem to be solved.

But he didn’t blame you, he blamed whoever put you in this situation. And surely they would pay.

2K notes · View notes

mononijikayu · 2 months ago

Text

stuff we did — geto suguru.

“Hey!” you called out, a mix of excitement and nervousness in your voice. “What are you doing?” Suguru looked up, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and curiosity. “I’m trying to figure out what’s inside. This place looks like it’s been abandoned forever.” You stepped closer, your own curiosity piqued. “Do you think it’s haunted?” Suguru grinned, his imagination clearly running wild. “Maybe! Or maybe it’s just full of old, forgotten things. Either way, I bet there are some really cool secrets in there.” You looked at the house, its weathered appearance now seeming a bit more inviting. “Do you want to explore it together?”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Modern AU;

WARNING/s: Angst, Fluff, Romance, Hurt/ Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Suguru, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Comfort, Falling In Love, Pining, Slice of Life, Humor, Domesticity, Miscarriage, Infertility, Character Death, Depiction of Infertility, Depiction of Hospital Visit, Depiction of Illness, Depiction of Old Age, Mention of Miscarriage, Mention of Infertility, Mention of Character Death, This Is One Of My Favorites In A Long Whille, My Writing Vault Is Just Angst;

WORDS: 8.9k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was written a while while back and i just finished proof reading it to suit what i wanted to see. this was inspired by both queen of tears and the film up, which was just the most beautiful movie ive seen over and over. i hope you enjoy this a lot and that you'll be just as moved as me. i promise i'll be back with fluff soon enough!!! i genuinely cried at the end. anyway, i hope you love it. i love you guys!!! thank you for reading <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

A WHOLE LIFETIME WAS WAITING FOR HIM. At ten years old, Suguru Geto was a dreamer with a spark in his eyes that hinted at a life full of exploration and wonder.

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It was an ordinary afternoon, the sun casting long shadows as you wandered through the neighborhood, when you stumbled upon the abandoned house. Its once-grand façade was now a patchwork of peeling paint and overgrown vines, and the wooden fence sagged in places, as if it were barely holding on to its secrets.

You had been intrigued by the house for weeks, often imagining what mysteries lay behind its dust-covered windows. That day, you decided to finally investigate, only to find someone already there. Suguru was crouched by the front gate, peering through the rusty bars with a look of intense concentration.

“Hey!” you called out, a mix of excitement and nervousness in your voice. “What are you doing?”

Suguru looked up, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and curiosity. “I’m trying to figure out what’s inside. This place looks like it’s been abandoned forever.”

You stepped closer, your own curiosity piqued. “Do you think it’s haunted?”

Suguru grinned, his imagination clearly running wild. “Maybe! Or maybe it’s just full of old, forgotten things. Either way, I bet there are some really cool secrets in there.”

You looked at the house, its weathered appearance now seeming a bit more inviting. “Do you want to explore it together?”

Suguru’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! Let’s make it our clubhouse. We can turn it into our secret base where we plan all our adventures.”

The two of you both pushed open the creaky gate and made your way up the overgrown path to the front door. Inside, dust motes danced in the beams of sunlight filtering through the broken windows. The air was musty, but the promise of discovery filled you with a sense of excitement.

“This place is amazing!” Suguru exclaimed, running his hand along an old wooden beam. “Imagine all the things we could do here, don’t you think? We could have treasure hunts, build secret compartments, and even create maps of our adventures!”

You smiled, already swept up in the excitement. “And we could scrapbook all of our adventures. I’ve got a ton of stickers and colored pens at home. We could make it like a journal of our explorations!”

Suguru’s eyes lit up with delight. “That sounds perfect. We’ll make this place the coolest clubhouse ever!”

With the possibilities swirling in both your minds, you turned to Suguru, realizing you hadn't properly introduced yourselves yet. “Oh, by the way, I’m…….”

Suguru grinned, his enthusiasm still bubbling over. “Suguru Geto. Looks like we’re gonna be partners in adventure!”

The two of you spent hours exploring every nook and cranny of the house. Suguru’s enthusiasm was contagious, pulling you deeper into the magic of the place. Every corner held a new discovery, a forgotten relic of time that sparked your imaginations. You both laughed as you uncovered old, dusty furniture, imagining all the stories it could tell.

Suguru, always the dreamer, crouched by an ancient-looking wardrobe and peered inside. “What if this belonged to a pirate?” he mused, brushing away cobwebs. “Maybe they stashed their maps and treasures in here before sailing off for another adventure.”

You chuckled, running your fingers over the faded carvings on a wooden chair. “Or maybe it was a writer, sitting here every night by candlelight, crafting tales of far-off lands.”

Suguru stood up, eyes gleaming. “We could be the next storytellers! We can make up stories about this place—maybe even start our own treasure hunt for future explorers.”

“I love that idea!” you grinned, already envisioning the elaborate maps and clues you could create together. “This whole house could be our playground.”

As you explored further, you found hidden doorways and forgotten passageways, each discovery filling you both with a sense of wonder. There was an old attic with creaky floorboards that groaned under your weight, and a cellar that held shelves of ancient, dusty jars—relics of a time long past. Suguru’s energy never faltered, and neither did yours. It was as if the house had become an extension of your shared imagination, every forgotten room a new world to explore.

At one point, Suguru turned to you, breathless from excitement. “Can you believe how much potential this place has? We could make it anything we want! A fortress, a secret hideout, a museum for all the stuff we find!”

You nodded eagerly, already planning how you’d decorate each room with artifacts from your adventures. “We’ll turn it into our own world.”

Suguru’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “We’ve gotta make sure no one else finds it, though. This is our secret spot.”

“Deal!” you said, sealing the pact with a grin.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the house, Suguru turned to you with a thoughtful expression. “You know, one day we’re going to see the whole world. Just like those great explorers. This clubhouse will be our starting point.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of deep connection with Suguru. “I’d like that. I think we’ll have the best adventures together.”

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YOU THINK THAT ADVENTURE WAS THE WAY TO GETO SUGURU’S HEART. When you started to get to know him, you couldn’t help but notice the way Suguru’s eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement whenever the topic of exploration came up.

It was as though each conversation opened a window into his boundless curiosity, and you found yourself drawn to the light in his gaze, the way it brightened with every new idea or story he shared.

Geto Suguru’s fascination with the world wasn’t just a passing interest—it was a deep passion, woven into the very fabric of who he was. He could turn even the smallest details into an adventure, transforming mundane objects or places into portals to other worlds. You can tell that he was a born story–teller. Born to know the wonders of the wider world.

Whenever he spoke of famous explorers, his voice would rise with enthusiasm, as if their courage and daring lived within him. Marco Polo’s travels along the Silk Road, Amelia Earhart’s fearless flight into the unknown—Suguru recounted their tales with such vivid detail, it felt as though you were right there alongside them, venturing into uncharted lands.

“He didn’t just travel, you know what I mean?” Suguru once said of Marco Polo, eyes alight with admiration. “That guy managed to help open some doors to a whole new world. Can you imagine that? Being the first to set foot somewhere no one even knew existed?”

You nodded, already swept up in the vision he painted as you kicked your feet. “It’s like the whole world was waiting to be found.”

Suguru smiled, and there was a quiet thrill in his voice. “Exactly! That’s the magic of it—everything’s an adventure if you look at it the right way.”

It didn’t take long before his excitement became infectious. These days, you just feel like that when you are around Suguru. Just as quickly, you could only find yourself equally captivated by the idea of exploring far-off places and uncovering their mysteries. Geto Suguru had a way of making even the ordinary seem extraordinary.

He would point out things that others might pass by without a second glance—a strange rock, an oddly shaped tree, or even the patterns in the clouds—and turn them into puzzles waiting to be solved. His mind was always buzzing with “what-ifs” and “maybes” sparking conversations that seemed to stretch on for hours as you both imagined worlds within worlds, hidden just beneath the surface of reality.

“I wonder what it would be like to be Amelia Earhart too!” he mused once, as you both sat on a hill, gazing at the horizon. “To fly into the unknown, chasing the horizon, not knowing what’s on the other side but going anyway.”

“Scary, but exciting, don’t you think?” you replied, feeling a twinge of that same wanderlust Suguru seemed to carry with him at all times. “It’s like you’re both lost and free at the same time.”

Suguru nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, that’s exactly it. The unknown is terrifying, but that’s what makes it so… beautiful. There’s always something more to discover. And I…I just can’t wait to find out all of it!”

It was moments like these that deepened your bond. His wonderment was contagious, and soon you began to see the world through his eyes, where even the smallest things held the promise of adventure. Whether it was the forgotten corners of an old house or the distant lands of long-gone explorers, with Suguru, everything became part of an ongoing quest.

You realized that it wasn’t just about the places you would explore, but the way he looked at the world—with a wide-eyed excitement that made you feel like every day held a new mystery, waiting to be uncovered. And you wanted to be there with him. Just beside him. Because to be with him, you like to think that you would find nothing but a wonder if you were there.

He had a knack for finding the magic in the mundane, and it opened your own bright eyes to the wonders around you. What once seemed ordinary now felt like it held endless possibilities, all thanks to Suguru’s infectious spirit.

He showed you that adventure wasn’t just something that happened in faraway places—it could be anywhere, even in the most unexpected moments. You didn’t have to cross oceans to find excitement; sometimes, it was right in front of you, if only you knew where to look. And with Suguru, you were learning how to see it.

This weekend afternoon, as you and Suguru sat cross-legged on the floor of your clubhouse, surrounded by colorful supplies and old maps, Suguru began sharing his latest dream with you. The sunlight streamed through the dusty windows, casting a warm, golden light on the room.

“You know…..” Suguru said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “I read about this amazing place called the Himalayas. It’s full of towering mountains, and some of them are so high that they touch the sky. Can you imagine climbing one of those?”

You looked up from your sketchbook, eyes wide with wonder. “That sounds incredible! What would it be like to stand on top of one of those mountains?”

Suguru’s face broke into a smile as he imagined the scene. You like to think that he had the most beautiful smile in the world. “It would be breathtaking. You’d feel like you’re on top of the world. And there’s this special mountain called Everest—people say it’s like touching the edge of the heavens!”

With a gleeful chuckle, Suguru grabbed a pencil and began sketching a mountain range in your scrapbook. “We should definitely put this in our adventure book. We’ll draw mountains and imagine ourselves climbing them.”

You nodded eagerly, already picturing the pages of your scrapbook filled with sketches and notes. “Absolutely. And we can write about all the things we’d see and do. Maybe we’ll even draw ourselves in climbing gear, standing triumphantly at the summit!”

As the weeks went by, the scrapbook became a canvas for your shared dreams. Each page was a tribute to the places Suguru talked about with such passion. There were intricate drawings of ocean vistas, with waves crashing against rocky shores, and sprawling cityscapes with towering skyscrapers and bustling streets.

Geto Suguru’s descriptions were so vivid that you could almost hear the sounds and smell the scents of these distant lands. He just knew how to give you the wide world to you in the vibrant brighteness no one could.

As you worked on the scrapbook together, Suguru’s excitement reached a new peak. “I’ve been reading about this incredible city called Istanbul. It’s where East meets West, and there are markets full of colorful spices and beautiful mosaics everywhere. I think it would be amazing to see it in person.”

You looked at the sketch Suguru had just added, depicting a bustling market scene with vibrant colors and intricate patterns. “It looks so lively and full of culture. I’d love to experience it with you. Maybe we could even learn a few phrases in Turkish before we go.”

Suguru nodded, clearly thrilled by the idea. “Yes! And we can try all the different foods and maybe even buy some souvenirs to bring back to our clubhouse.”

As the scrapbook filled up, it became a treasure trove of aspirations and memories. The house, once an abandoned relic, was now a haven for your dreams, where the world beyond your doorstep felt just a little bit smaller and a whole lot more reachable.

As you look at him, you couldn’t help but smile. Your scrapbook would be an adventure as long as you had him.

IT WAS EASY TO SEE THAT YOU LIKED HIM. As the years passed, as you both grew older—the bond between you and Suguru deepened in ways that neither of you had anticipated. Nothing has changed and yet it has.

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You couldn’t even understand how you could describe it. What had begun as a playful friendship, sparked by shared adventures and dreams, evolved into a profound connection that anchored both of your lives moving forward.

The seasons changed, and so did the nature of your relationship. As the crisp air of autumn gave way to the first frost of winter, something subtle yet profound shifted between you two.

Your weekends, once filled with the solitary pursuit of sketching mountains far off in the distance or wistfully dreaming of cities you had yet to explore, began to take on a new rhythm. These quiet moments of creativity were now shared, woven into times of meaningful conversations that deepened your connection.

The clubhouse, once a refuge for your art and ideas, had evolved alongside you both. It was no longer just a place to retreat but had grown into a cozy home filled with warmth and a sense of belonging. The walls, once bare and practical, were now alive with a collage of your memories—scrapbook pages pinned up like trophies of the adventures you’d had together.

Here, in the dim light of your clubhouse-turned-home, time seemed to slow. Conversations stretched long into the evening, filled with laughter, confessions, and sometimes a comfortable silence that spoke more than words ever could.

You realized that it wasn't just about the places you wanted to visit or the mountains you hoped to climb. It was about these moments—right here, right now—that had been shaping the most important journey of all: the one you were taking together.

You and Suguru sat on the porch of your clubhouse. The place had become a sanctuary for the two of you, and tonight, it felt even more so. Wrapped in thick, warm blankets, you watched the sun slowly sink below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of soft gold, pink, and lavender. The fading light bathed the world in a warm, almost magical glow, a contrast to the growing chill in the air.

But something else lingered in the quiet of that evening—an unspoken tension. Suguru, always steady and thoughtful, had been unusually silent. You could sense that something weighed heavily on his mind. His usual animated presence, the one that balanced your own, seemed subdued.

He stared out at the trees, their leaves a patchwork of fiery reds and oranges, but his thoughts were clearly somewhere else. The contemplative look on his face was deeper than the usual moments of introspection he had.

You knew him well enough to understand that silence was part of who he was—he often found comfort in it—but this was different. This wasn’t just quiet; it was an absence of something.

The air, cool against your skin, seemed to press in, amplifying the stillness between you. It felt as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to be said. You didn’t push him; you knew better than that.

With Suguru, patience was key. He always opened up in his own time, and when he did, it was always worth the wait. You could tell he was wrestling with something important—something that couldn’t be rushed.

You glanced over at him, his face softened by the golden light of the setting sun. His expression was unreadable, yet you could sense the conflict beneath the surface.

It was as though the quiet had become a shield for him, a way to protect himself from whatever thoughts he was trying to sort out. You wondered if he even knew how to begin talking about it, or if he was still trying to make sense of it for himself.

The porch creaked as you shifted slightly in your seat, the only sound breaking the stillness. The leaves continued to fall, gently drifting to the ground, but the world around you felt frozen in that moment, waiting for Suguru to speak. Whatever was on his mind, you knew it was important, and you were ready to listen when he was ready to share.

You glanced at him, sensing that something was on his mind. “Hey, Suguru.” you said gently, “is everything okay? You seem a bit… distant.”

Suguru turned to you, his eyes reflecting the fading sunlight. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” he began slowly, “about us, and about everything we’ve shared.”

You felt a flutter of nerves in your chest but kept your voice steady. “What about us?”

Suguru took a deep breath, his fingers intertwined with yours. “You know how we’ve always dreamed about exploring the world together? Well, lately, I’ve been thinking that the greatest adventure of all is the one we’re already on. The one where we’re building a life together.”

You looked at him, your heart racing as you realized what he was about to say. Suguru’s face softened into a gentle smile, and he continued, “I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time. You’ve been my partner in every adventure, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

The world seemed to pause as you processed his words. Your feelings for Suguru had grown from admiration and friendship into a deep, abiding love. You had felt it for some time but hadn’t fully acknowledged it until this moment.

“I love you too, Suguru.” you replied, your voice trembling with emotion. “You’re my best friend, my confidant, and the person I want to share my life with.”

Suguru’s bright purple eyes sparkled with happiness, and he reached out to hold you close. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, and you felt a profound sense of belonging. From that evening onward, your relationship transformed.

You both began to plan not just for the next adventure but for a future together. You talked about dreams of traveling the world, but also about building a home, starting a family, and creating a life rich with shared experiences.

The future you envisioned was no longer just about distant places or grand plans; it was about the everyday moments and the life you would build side by side. You found joy in the small things—quiet dinners, laughter over shared memories, and the simple pleasure of being together. And for each of those moments, you would both be together. For every last one.

And from that moment, everything felt like a flash, a blur of time passing with both rapidity and grace. Years slipped through your fingers like sand, but each one seemed to deepen the bond you and Suguru shared.

You both arrived at the house, this time not as wide-eyed dreamers, but as people ready to take action. You were equipped with the resources, knowledge, and expertise that had been hard-earned over the years. What once seemed impossible now felt within reach.

The house had transformed, much like the relationship you shared. The wild, overgrown vines that had once snaked across its facade had been cut away, revealing the clean lines of the structure underneath.

The sagging fence, which had leaned precariously for years, had been replaced by a sturdy, welcoming one. Even the gate—the one that had creaked and stuck when you were kids—now swung open smoothly, inviting you in with a sense of ease and possibility.

Standing there together, gazing at the house, the nostalgia hit you both in waves. You could still remember the first time you stumbled upon it, back when the future felt like a distant, far-off dream. But now, it wasn’t distant anymore. It was here, within your grasp.

The silence between you was comfortable, filled with anticipation and a shared understanding. You both knew this wasn’t just about restoring an old house. It was about building something together—something that was uniquely yours.

This house, with all its history and imperfections, was about to become the home you had always envisioned. It wasn’t just a physical space. It was a reflection of everything you had been through, everything you had grown into, and everything you had yet to become.

As you exchanged a glance with Suguru, you didn’t need words to know what he was thinking. The years had brought change, but they had also brought clarity. Together, you had always been building something—first with your dreams, then with your actions. And now, you were ready to take that final step, to make this place your home.

“Look at it, baby!” Suguru exclaimed, his voice filled with awe as he gazed at the house. His eyes sparkled with the kind of excitement and pride you hadn't seen in a while. “It’s incredible to see how far we’ve come. I remember the first time we explored this place, imagining what it could become.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion as you took in the sight before you. “It’s amazing. It feels like we’re finally turning our dreams into reality.”

The house had been a vision for so long—an idea you had held onto through thick and thin. Now, as you stood in front of the freshly painted exterior, with the sun glinting off the windows and the scent of fresh grass in the air, it was hard to believe that this place had once been nothing more than an abandoned shell. But it was no longer just an idea or a distant goal. It was real, solid, and yours.

Suguru picked up a paint roller, dipped it into the bucket of soft, pastel blue paint you had both agreed on, and turned toward the wall with a grin. “This is the fun part, don’t you think?” he said, rolling a stripe of color onto the previously bare wood. “It’s like coloring outside the lines, but now we get to make the lines too.”

You laughed and grabbed your own roller, eager to join in. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, mister. This is a team effort.”

Soon, the two of you were painting side by side, your laughter filling the crisp air as you carefully applied the vibrant colors to your home. The soft hum of birds chirping in the distance and the gentle rustling of leaves set the perfect backdrop for your playful banter. Every brushstroke felt like a step closer to bringing your shared vision to life.

At one point, Suguru turned toward you, his roller dripping with paint, and a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “You know what’s missing here?” he asked, his voice playful.

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be suspicious. “What?”

“An artist's touch!” Before you could react, Suguru flicked his roller in your direction, sending a spray of pastel blue paint across your shirt.

Your eyes widened in mock horror as you looked down at the splatters of paint now decorating your clothes. “Suguru!” you exclaimed, half-laughing, half-gasping. “You’re in so much trouble!”

Without hesitation, you dipped your roller into the paint and aimed it squarely at him, sending a cascade of blue across his chest. Suguru's bright purple eyes went wide in surprise, then he broke into a wide grin.

“Oh, it’s on now,” he said, stepping toward you with his paintbrush raised like a sword. What started as an innocent painting session quickly turned into a playful paint war, the walls momentarily forgotten as you splattered each other with streaks of pastel blue.

You squealed as he rushed off with a dash and followed you. His laughter was just as much the best part of the progress you think. It was like the music that was missing in your life. And it never stopped that afternoon and you were content.

The soft spring breeze carried your laughter, and for a few moments, the rest of the world faded away. It was just you and Suguru, in the moment, covered in paint and joy.

At some point, you collapsed onto the grass together, breathless from laughter and covered in splashes of color. The house loomed behind you, its newly painted walls gleaming in the sunlight, but all you could focus on was the way Suguru looked at you, his face smeared with paint, his eyes filled with warmth and happiness.

He reached over and gently wiped a smudge of blue from your cheek, his touch tender. “Look at us, baby.” he said softly, his voice a mix of awe and affection. “We’re a mess, but this—everything we’ve built together—it’s beautiful.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Yeah babe.” you agreed, your heart full. “It really is.”

Just like that, this once old abandoned soul was starting to come back to life before your eyes. It reminded you of all those dreams you had shared with Suguru for so many years. And in that moment, as you sat in the grass with your husband—covered in paint, laughter, and love—you realized that this, right here, was the real dream coming true.

That cool summer night as you both sat together on the porch of your newly renovated home, watching the sunset paint the sky with shades of pink and orange, Suguru turned to you with a contented smile. You had never seen him this happy in your entire lives together. And it suited him. More than you think he’d understand.

“I never imagined this day would come, but here we are. Our adventures didn’t just remain on paper anymore, baby. They became a reality now.”

You leaned against him, feeling a deep sense of fulfillment. “It’s incredible. We’ve seen so much of the world, and now we have this beautiful home that’s a reflection of our journey.”

With your home now complete, you and Suguru embarked on a new chapter of your life.

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LIFE EVEN IN ITS MOST MUNDANE WAS EVERYTHING. As the years went by, your and Suguru’s paths continued to align in the most fulfilling ways. Suguru, inspired by his love for learning and his experiences, decided to become a teacher, just like you.

Both of you found immense satisfaction in shaping young minds and sharing your passion for knowledge. Your combined efforts in education became a cornerstone of your lives, and it was a field where your love for exploration and discovery seamlessly translated into inspiring others.

Your old friends, who had once joined you in those early childhood adventures, also found their way into the field of education. Together, you formed a tight-knit community of educators, all driven by a shared passion for helping students explore their potential. The clubhouse, once the backdrop for your childhood dreams, had become a symbol of your commitment to fostering curiosity and creativity in the next generation.

Even your nights you spent in your home were often filled with lively discussions about teaching methods, innovative ideas for the classroom, and the exciting possibilities of new educational tools.

Your love of exploration, once confined to distant lands, now found a new outlet in the classroom. You and Suguru worked together on projects that encouraged students to think critically and explore the world around them, just as you had done as children.

Suguru, with a nostalgic smile, traced his fingers over a particularly cherished page. “Remember this, baby?” he said, pointing to a sketch of the Himalayas. “We were so excited about climbing those mountains. And now, look at us—living our dreams and sharing them with others.”

You leaned against him, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “I do remember. And I’m so grateful for everything we’ve experienced together. This scrapbook is a reminder of how far we’ve come and all the dreams we’ve made real.”

As you both looked through the pages, you realized that the scrapbook was more than just a record of your adventures—it was a reflection of your journey as a couple. It symbolized not only the places you had been and the things you had done but also the love and partnership that had grown alongside them. Everything was perfect. Nothing could be better.

Your careers were flourishing, and life with Geto Suguru was a tapestry of shared happiness. The bond between you had only deepened over time, each day bringing a new layer of intimacy and understanding.

It was as though your relationship had found a perfect equilibrium, a serene joy that seemed like it could stretch on indefinitely. Your home was filled with the warmth of laughter, the comfort of companionship, and the contentment of having achieved many of your dreams. But still, you felt like something was missing. And your husband knew it too.

Suguru, with his usual thoughtful demeanor, was the first to broach the topic. “You know, baby….” he began, his voice gentle but carrying an undercurrent of contemplation. “We've built something incredible together. Our careers, our lovely home… Everything feels right. But have you ever thought about what might come next?”

You turned to face him, curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?” you asked, sensing that there was something more beneath his words.

Suguru hesitated for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “Well, we’ve talked about our future in many ways, but lately, I’ve been thinking about children. About…..about what it might be like to have a family of our own.”

Your husband’s tender words hung in the air, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. The idea had surfaced in fleeting thoughts and half-formed conversations, but hearing it out loud made it feel more real, more tangible.

You considered his words carefully. The thought of children had always been a distant possibility, a dream tucked away among other aspirations. But now, in the warmth of the evening and the comfort of your home, it feels different. It was no longer just an abstract idea; it was something you were both ready to explore.

“I’ve thought about it too, babe.” you admitted, your voice soft but filled with emotion. “It’s strange how this feeling crept up on us. I suppose we always knew that our life together would be about more than just us, that there would be something else to share our love and our world with.”

Suguru reached out and took your hand, his touch reassuring and full of promise. “I think it could be a beautiful next step for us, you know? I know it won’t be easy, and there will be challenges, but I can’t help but feel that it’s the right time.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling a sense of warmth and excitement building within you. “I agree. It feels like we’re ready to open up to this new chapter. I can’t imagine doing it with anyone else but you.”

And that settled your desires to begin unfolding. You both wanted it — to have a family together, to raise a child that would be a reflection of your love. The excitement was palpable, filling the days with a hopeful kind of anticipation. You tried, again and again, but it wasn’t long before the first signs appeared, subtle at first. A growing worry gnawed at you, but you pushed it aside, willing everything to be okay.

Then came the miscarriage.

The room was heavy with silence, the kind that feels suffocating and oppressive. Your eyes were red from the tears you had shed, each one a testament to the depth of your loss. The sterile whiteness of the doctor's office seemed to mock the vibrant dreams you had once held.

The doctor’s words were like a sharp blade cutting through the haze of hope you had been clinging to. “You won’t be able to have children, Mrs. Geto. I am so sorry.” he said softly, his voice compassionate but firm.

The words hung in the air, each syllable a painful puncture to the fragile balloon of hope that had floated between you and Suguru. At that moment, the world seemed to fall apart.

The colors of the room blurred together, the sounds of the doctor’s voice faded into a distant hum, and the only thing that remained was the crushing weight of the news. It was as if the very foundation of your dreams had shattered, leaving behind a void that seemed too vast to fill.

The future you had imagined—of shared late-night feedings, tiny feet pattering around the house, the joy of watching a child grow—was now nothing more than a distant, unreachable fantasy. The dream you and Suguru had so carefully built together crumbled, leaving behind an aching emptiness that felt like a gaping hole in your heart.

You looked at Suguru, and in his eyes, you saw the same devastation mirrored back at you. The strength and support that had always been a cornerstone of your relationship now felt fragile, as if the very fabric of your shared hopes had been torn apart. His hand reached for yours, trembling slightly, and you could feel the shared grief pulsing between you.

As you and Suguru drove home, the silence in the car was almost unbearable. The world outside seemed muted, as if the colors and sounds had been drained away. The roads stretched out in front of you, but they felt meaningless, like they led nowhere important. The weight of the news settled heavily on your shoulders, and neither of you knew how to break the quiet.

For days, you were unapproachable, lost in a fog of devastation. The loss felt like a gaping chasm that nothing could fill. Conversations became infrequent and strained, and even the comfort of routine seemed distant and hollow. Suguru was there, his presence a constant but silent support, and though he tried to offer solace, the words and gestures seemed inadequate against the depth of your shared grief.

The stillness in the house felt almost oppressive. You found yourself sitting alone in the backyard, the garden now a quiet reflection of your internal turmoil. The familiar sight of your favorite flowers and the gentle rustling of leaves seemed to offer no solace. You sat there, wrapped in a blanket of melancholy, trying to make sense of the void that had settled in your life.

Suguru came out and joined you, quietly taking a seat beside you on the patio. He took a deep breath, the kind that seemed to carry the weight of the world. For a moment, he just sat there, gathering his thoughts, his presence a steady anchor amidst the storm of emotions.

“You know, baby…..” he began softly, his voice breaking the heavy silence, “it’s okay to feel like this. It’s okay to not have all the answers or to be okay right away.”

His words were simple but carried a depth of understanding that only someone who truly cared could offer. You turned to look at him, seeing the pain and determination in his eyes.

“I don’t know how to move past this.” you admitted, your voice cracking with emotion.

“I know.” He whispers to you with tenderness. Tenderness you will never truly deserve. “But you know, baby…..We’ll always be together.”

“I know that.” you retorted, your voice tight and strained as you tried to contain the wave of emotion threatening to break free. “But I just… I wish I could have given you a child, you know? A child that’s a mix of you and me. I just…”

Your words trailed off, leaving a raw vulnerability exposed. The weight of your regrets hung heavily in the air, mingling with the sorrow that had become a constant companion. Suguru’s eyes, usually so full of life and energy, now reflected a deep, pained empathy.

His purple orbs roamed over your face, taking in the sight of you so broken and anguished. The sight of you in such distress was almost too much for him to bear. His own heart ached at the realization that there was little he could do to ease your pain.

“Does our lifetime of love need to leave evidence?” Suguru asked softly, his voice tender yet resolute. “Does…..does it need more than what there is?”

His question wasn’t just a consolation; it was a reflection of his deep belief in the essence of your relationship. You turned to him, the tears welling in your eyes now spilling over, blurring your vision. The raw honesty in his words cut through the fog of your grief, reaching the core of your heart.

“We have each other now, baby.” Suguru continued, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “And we love each other. That’s all that matters.”

His words were simple but powerful, a balm to the wound that had seemed insurmountable. His words broke something inside of you, not in a painful way, but in a way that let all the pent-up sorrow flow out.

You sobbed, burying your face in your hands, and Suguru wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you cried. He didn’t say anything more—he didn’t need to. In his embrace, in the warmth of his presence, you found the reassurance you didn’t know you needed.

You cried for the loss, for the future you had dreamed of, but you also cried for the love you still had. Suguru was right. You had each other, and in that love, you found strength. That’s all that truly mattered.

Geto Suguru held you close as your tears flowed, his hands gently rubbing your back, whispering words of comfort that barely reached your ears. But his presence, steady and unwavering, spoke louder than any words could.

In his arms, you found a fragile sense of peace, a reminder that even in this moment of heartbreak, you weren’t alone. His touch was familiar, grounding, and you turned to look at him. There was a tenderness in his eyes, a deep understanding that made your heart ache in the best way. He smiled at you.

“I know this isn’t what we imagined.” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But I’ve been thinking… Maybe it’s okay if our love doesn’t leave a legacy in the way we thought. Maybe our love can just be… us.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of his words settling into your heart. Suguru had always been your anchor, the person who knew how to pull you back when the world felt too overwhelming. In that moment, you realized that maybe he was right.

Maybe your love didn’t need to be measured by the future you had imagined, by the children you thought you would have. Maybe it was enough to have each other, to share this life together, and to hold onto the love that had always been there. Maybe this was all there has to be. Maybe….this was enough.

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time they weren’t filled with sorrow. You squeezed Suguru’s hand, leaning into his warmth. “I love you.” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. “I love you so much.”

He pulled you into his arms once more, his lips brushing against your temple. “I love you too. Always.”

In that quiet moment, you realized that while the future you had once dreamed of was no longer possible, there was still a future waiting for you. A future where it was just the two of you, building a life together, creating memories that were uniquely yours. And as long as you had Suguru by your side, that was enough.

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YOU LIKE TO THINK THAT YOUR HUSBAND’S DREAMS WERE BEAUTIFUL. Even after everything, your husband Suguru had always been a dreamer. He never gave up even after the rollercoaster life had dealt you. Everything you both went through—the heartache, the healing—he found a new dream. It was no longer about building a family or leaving a legacy.

His new dream was much simpler, yet so much more meaningful: seeing the world with you. He wanted to explore every corner of the earth by your side, to share in the beauty of new experiences together, and to make memories that would last a lifetime.

There was one place, in particular, that you had always talked about—Grindelwald. The snow-covered mountains, the crisp winter air, the breathtaking views from atop the peaks.

It was a dream you had held close for as long as Suguru could remember, and now, it had become his dream too. He wanted nothing more than to take you there, to hike those snow-dusted trails and see the world unfold beneath you, together.

The two of you started saving for the trip, setting aside small amounts whenever you could. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep the dream alive. But life, as it often does, had other plans.

Each time you neared your goal, something else would come up—unexpected expenses, repairs, emergencies. And each time, you had to dip into your savings, pushing the dream further and further away.

The years passed, and the dream remained just that—a dream. Life after all was always busy, life had always had other plans. But you were just happy, being with him. Being together was more than enough.

Yet, Geto Suguru never gave up. He never forgot the way your eyes lit up whenever you talked about seeing pictures of Grindelwald, and he was determined to make it happen one day, no matter how long it took.

Then, one quiet evening, many years later, your husband Suguru sat across from you, his once dark hair now streaked with bright vibrant silver. His hands were still steady, but time had softened their strength. He looked at you with the same love he always had, and there was something different in his eyes—something hopeful, something excited.

“I have a surprise for you, baby.” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out two plane tickets, holding them out for you to see.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the destination: Switzerland.

“We’re going, finally!” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re finally going to see Grindelwald.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, a cascade of emotions threatening to spill over, but before you could voice a response, an unfamiliar, sharp ache deep within your body made you pause. It was a discomfort that had been gnawing at you for some time, a persistent shadow that you had tried to ignore.

At first, you dismissed it as stress or perhaps a lingering side effect of the emotional turmoil you had been through. But as the days turned into weeks, the ache intensified, becoming an unwelcome companion in your life.

You tried to push through it, attributing it to the residual strain of the recent loss and the emotional weight you were carrying. Yet, the pain was relentless, and it wasn’t long before you knew you could no longer ignore it. After several visits to various doctors, numerous tests, and consultations that felt endless, the diagnosis finally came: cancer.

The words hit you like a physical blow, the gravity of the diagnosis sinking into your bones. Cancer. It was a term that seemed to hang in the air, heavy with implications and uncertainty. The doctors’ explanations, though thorough and compassionate, felt distant and detached, as if they were speaking a language you couldn’t quite grasp.

The news was like a seismic shift in your world. It felt as though everything you had been trying to hold together was unraveling. The tears that had been welling up before were now flowing freely, mingling with the shock and fear that gripped you. You tried to process it all, but the weight of the diagnosis was overwhelming. It was as if the universe had decided to compound your grief with a new and daunting challenge.

You found yourself grappling with the implications of the diagnosis, trying to come to terms with the reality of what lay ahead. The future that had once seemed so full of potential and hope was now clouded by uncertainty. The plans and dreams you had cherished were overshadowed by the looming shadow of illness.

Suguru was there, his presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos. His own emotions were a mix of concern and determination, but he tried to remain strong for you. In the quiet moments, as you both grappled with the weight of the diagnosis, he held you close, offering a solace that words couldn’t fully convey.

Everything about it was a crushing blow. But Suguru held firm and so did you. You wanted to fight it. After all that time, your dreams together were about to come true. You didn’t want to give up just yet. You wanted to live on. You wanted to go. You wanted to have more time. With him.

But life wasn’t always as one wants it to be. You were admitted to the hospital soon after, the trip to Switzerland slipping away, replaced by sterile rooms and treatment plans. Geto Suguru was devastated. He had waited so long, saved so carefully, and now, just when it seemed possible, this had happened.

But as you lay in the hospital bed, weakened but still filled with love for the man sitting beside you, you knew there was something more important than the trip, more important than the dream that never came to be.

You called him over, and with trembling hands, you handed him the scrapbook you had kept over the years—the one filled with all the adventures you’d already shared, the places you had seen together, the memories you had created.

“You’ve always been my greatest adventure, you know?” you said softly, your voice a little hoarse. “We may never get to see Grindelwald together, but that doesn’t mean the dream has to end.”

Your husband Suguru looked at you, his eyes filled with tears, unable to speak.

“I want you to keep making memories, Suguru. I want you to keep having adventures. Take the tickets, go see the world… live for both of us. Because as long as you’re alive, as long as you’re making memories, there will always be evidence that I live on too.”

Suguru’s hand tightened around yours, his tears finally falling. He shook his head, unable to imagine a world without you, without your shared dream. But you smiled, reaching up to touch his cheek.

“You’ve always been the dreamer, Suguru.” you whispered. “Don’t let that part of you die. Keep dreaming, keep living for me, for us. Our love… it’s more than just a place or a moment. It’s a lifetime of memories. And as long as you’re out there, making new ones, I’ll be with you.”

Suguru nodded, his heart breaking but understanding what you meant. You had always been his greatest love, and now, even in this painful moment, you were still giving him the strength to carry on.

As he sat by your side, holding your hand tightly, Suguru made a silent promise—to keep your love alive, to honor the life you had shared, and to one day, perhaps, stand atop those snow-covered mountains of Grindelwald, knowing that you were with him in every step, in every breath, in every memory he made.

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HE WASN’T GETTING ANY YOUNGER. But he still had a promise to fulfill to you. Geto Suguru stood at the base of the trail, staring up at the towering Alps, their snow-covered peaks gleaming under the summer sun.

The path before him was steep, challenging, but it was the journey he had promised to make—for you, for both of you. He reached up to touch the small locket that hung around his neck, a picture of you carefully tucked inside. Your smile was his anchor, even now, long after you were gone.

The climb was grueling, especially for someone his age. His knees ached, his breath came in short, shallow gasps, but he pressed on. The crisp mountain air filled his lungs, reminding him of the dream you had shared for so many years—to see Grindelwald together, to hike these mountains and stand at the top of the world.

As he ascended, memories of you filled his mind. He could still hear your laughter, feel the warmth of your hand in his, see the way your eyes lit up whenever you talked about this place.

It had been your dream, but over time, it had become his as well. Even after all those years of saving, when life had repeatedly forced you to spend the money on more pressing needs, the dream had never faded.

Now, finally, he was here. But he was alone.

Each step was harder than the last. The trail wound higher and higher, becoming more treacherous, but Suguru refused to stop. He clutched the locket, his fingers brushing over the metal as if your presence was embedded within it.

“I promised you,” he whispered to the open air, as though you were walking beside him. “I promised we’d see this together.”

It took hours, his body protesting with every movement, but at last, Suguru reached the summit. The world spread out before him, vast and beautiful, with the jagged peaks of the Alps stretching into the distance. The view was breathtaking—just as you had always said it would be.

He stood there, chest heaving, staring out at the endless sky. Tears welled in his eyes, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer weight of the moment. He opened the locket and gazed at your face, your smiling eyes staring back at him. You should have been here with him. You should have seen this with your own eyes.

“This is for you, baby.” he murmured, his voice cracking as tears spilled down his cheeks. “We made it, love. We’re finally here.”

Suguru stood there for what felt like an eternity, just holding the locket and letting the wind carry his words. The silence of the mountains felt sacred, and for a moment, he could almost feel your presence beside him, hear your voice on the breeze.

After a long while, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small, framed photograph—the two of you, from years ago, standing side by side, laughing as the sun set behind you. It was a moment of joy, of love, captured forever. He knelt down carefully and placed the frame on a small, flat rock at the very peak of the mountain. The picture stood there, delicate but steadfast, a testament to the love you had shared.

Suguru stood back, his gaze soft as he looked at the photo. He ran a trembling hand through his silvered hair, then placed his hands together, pressing the locket to his chest. “We don’t need evidence for our love, you know that, baby?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I want… I want everyone to know that there was love somewhere.”

His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and a bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“And it will be here. Always.”

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves and the grass around him, as if the earth itself acknowledged his words. Suguru stood there, the weight of his age and grief heavy on his shoulders, but in his heart, there was a quiet peace. This was your place now, your memory, your love, etched into the mountains for all time.

As the sun began to dip lower on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the Alps, geto Suguru turned and began his descent. With each step, he carried the knowledge that your love was eternal, not bound by the constraints of time or place. It lived on—in the memories, in the moments, and now, on the very peak of the world.

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kookslastbutton · 1 year ago

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Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) || Series Masterlist

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, slice of life series

Word count: 44k

Rating: M, 18+

Warnings: 8-year age gap, professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), lots of family drama, fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, therapy, sexual content, flashbacks + more specific warnings per chapter

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, Heaven+

A/N: Ummm so I don't ever do series but....I can't help it this time :) big thing– jk is not a complete butt. This is not a "jk finally coming around after treating oc like garbage for wanting a kid". It's more of a we'll figure it out together kind thing, though there will be bumps in the road. Pls enjoy and lmk what you think 🥰

Chapters

༓ ch. I – "This eternal night with no end in sight" (4.1k)

༓ ch. II – "Just hold me silently like you did that day, that time" (5k)

༓ ch. III – “I could make it better” (3.3k)

༓ ch. IV – “I could hold you tighter” (4.1k)

༓ ch. V – “I can make it right” (3.3k)

༓ ch. VI – “Its you who gifted me the morning” (6.1k)

༓ ch. VII – “Can I now hold that hand?” (6.6k)

༓ ch. VIII – “Oh you're the light” (8.6k)

⤷ three month check-in

༓ epilogue: stargaze (4k)

Drabbles

↪ Surprising each other with gifts on the same day (requested)

↪ Jungkook proposing after two years of dating (requested)

↪ Happy Birthday, My Love - recreating Love 911 kiss scene (requested)

note: if you would like to request a drabble lmk ☺💗

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

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fandomxo00 · 2 months ago

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can you do a headcannon about Hugh getting reader pregnant and he’s like “omg how am I gonna have a kid at 55!?” But reader tells him he’s gonna be great and Hugh is like all dad mode now

hope this makes sense 😭😭

note: i'm so deulu is not funny, when i was younger i would come up with these same time of plots where like i'm related to a celebrity so i meet famous ppl and whatever or literally anything, ive come up hundrds of scenarios while i was playing outside, completely enveloped in the world. if i did that now....well lets just say im not going to and can go into so much detail when writing that its so much better.

Hugh never thought he was gonna be a father again, he never that he would have a biological child. It wasn't a loss for him, he loved his children so much. But he's nervous about how he was going to fit to your standards. He had many mistakes the first time around, and this was different for him. The love he has for you is something he hadn't ever felt before, he did need more children but Hugh wanted to give you everything. You didn't come from a loving family, you didn't feel safe for such a long time, in the beginning of the relationship you couldn't believe that he actually liked you.

You didn't think you were his type and you were in your early thirties. You'd met through the grapevine, your little sister, Gracie was getting really close with Taylor. The two of you being huge fans, you couldn't believe the two actually connected. You were closer to Taylor's age than Gracie was and the two of you became fast friends. She even invited you to help with The Era's Tour, being one of the backstage managers. That's when you met Hugh, he'd been heading towards divorce with his wife for a long time, and they were in the middle of it. You were hesitant when he was confident and respectful, the two of you getting to know each other better through different dinners and hangouts before you officially started going out with him when the divorce was finalized.

But after that things moved pretty quickly and within two years you were married to him, and deeply in love. Hugh couldn't believe that he had met you know. He'd wish that you had been a little older and he could've met you sooner. When he met you, there was this innate attraction and comfortably around each other. You were never comfortable around people you didn't know well, but Hugh made it seem like he'd known you forever. He knew about what you wanted, and he didn't even hesitate when it came to you. There wasn't anything that Hugh wouldn't do for you and vise versa.

Even though he wanted to give you children one day, he didn't realize it would be so soon. Though it wasn't and you'd been trying for awhile when you finally got a positive pregnancy test. You were so excited, even in your mood swings, weird pregnancy craves, and constant pain literally everywhere. Hugh did everything to soothe you asking you what you needed and doing that exactly for you. Listening to you carefully especially when you were so upset you were crying over something as simple as a snack or spilling a glass of water. Taking care of you reminded him of what his past looked like and what his future would consist of. He felt a warmness come over him as he did some refreshers on different parenting books. Going through a list of questions with you, things that were important for your parenting journey. It was important to compromise and listen to each other.

But one night he let out that he was indeed nervous, "I mean I'm 55, what if I'm not good at this, anymore? What if I can't be a good husband and a good dad? I mean look what happened-." He rambled, as your hand came up to his cheek. Hugh's hand coming to round pregnant belly, as you looked into his eyes.

"You are a great dad, and a great husband. And the difference between when you did this with your ex and me, is that our love is different. Right? You always told me that."

"Yeah baby, our love is different." Hugh hummed, leaning in to lightly kiss your lips.

The two of you balanced each other, it wasn't that you couldn't handle yourself without him. But rather it was just easier to be when you were with him. When you feeling like you were lacking he never forgot to remind you how valued and how much you meant to him. You tried to do the same, trying to give him hope at the end of the tunnel.

@ me for forgetting to tag ppl : @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland

#hugh jackman imagine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman fluff #hugh jackman dad #hugh jackman request

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tannieastrology · 9 months ago

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Solar Return Observations💋❤️🌹

💋This year I have a Virgo Ascendant in my solar return along with 2 Venus returns and Ive been so much more health/beauty focused. Like I care more about myself and am trying to break bad habits that I made in 2023. Im also alot more driven in sports/goals and back when I had this in 2020 I was also into skincare and makeup alot too and was into running and working out. I feel like the year you get a virgo ascendant for your solar return is the year to cleanse bad habits that youve made in the previous year its like a chance to start new.

💋The year you have Uranus in the 11th house is most likely a year where you will lose friends but will also get the chance to make new ones. I had Uranus and North Node in my 11th house last year and my 3 year long friend who claimed we were “besties” backstabbed me and cut me off with no explanation BUT I also found a friendgroup who are here to stay and am incredibely blessed to have met them. This was a year where my view on society and people changed significantly but i feel it was for the better.

💋Last year I had Sun and Pluto in the 8th house along with Moon and Mars in the 12th. I struggled really bad with my mental health(also a Gemini Rising) and my whole personality shifted from these experiences. From January my grandma almost died of cancer, I faced unrequited love, bullying from “friends”, losing friends, and overall felt pressure from school. I was just sensitive to what people said about me and let little things bother me and now that Im looking back none of it was a big deal but I dont know in the moment it affected me way too much. It made me realize that you cant ever really put your faith in people and that you need to trust and respect yourself the most. That you cant be attached to people and your faith should be put in god (atleast thats what I think). Most of the pain came from lowself esteem and I do believe that these placements made me grow a thicker skin and to become more independant. Im a completely different person now and while I did lose my innocence to the world I feel that I can survive on my own now. I guess I just grew a backbone which im really thankful for.

💋Everything that happened last year (like growth transformation death) is all related to the 8th house which is where gemini is in my natal so also keep that in mind where your solar ascendant falls in your natal.

💋This year I have a Moon in Libra in the 1st house and a Virgo Lilith exactly conjunct my ascendant and Ive been getting so much praise from woman its weird? Weirdly guys have been liking my instagram stories and when I posted on my birthday so many people came and viewed my story who dont even follow me. I also feel more pretty and empowered this year and Ive been trying to figure out how I want to present myself more. Compared to last year I feel like I am more upfront with my feelings. I feel like this year I might not struggle as much since im a Libra Ascendant and my solar return is Virgo and almost aligns with my natal chart.

💋My sadness and pain from my 2023 solar return actually really did last until my birthday aka my 2024 return😭 So keep in note that solar returns will remain effective until your next birthday.

💋I have Pluto, Mars, Sun, Vertex, Mercury, and POF, all in the 5th house this year and Im really hoping I can finally meet someone to date for the first time but so far its manifested as being more interested in hobbies/ having fun. Im not complaining tho I actually have been so much happier and I havent cried that much at all from this new Solar Return. I will say I feel like having Pluto in the 5th house will make your view change a bit on relationships. I lost feelings for my 3 year crush and I also feel like its impossible for me to properly catch feelings now. I dont know its like I broke the cycle of infatuting crushes and am way more realistic when it comes to love. Part of it is probably just me getting older but I think thats a good thing. I dont expect love like the movies anymore but i just want something REAL.

💋The year you have 8th house Venus a old flame might come back into your life.

💋Tell me why I have Jupiter, North Node, and Chiron in the 8th house this year and ive been attracting money/all the things i want so easily? I got almost $450 for my birthday, a vanity, a lulu bag, and a big party and its only been like 2 weeks😭

💋 When I turn 18 in 2026 I have a stellium of Venus, Mercury, Sun, Mars, and Pluto in the 12th SOOO im predicting that I might be struggling with mental health that year, probably lost in where I want to head after high school, or Im either hiding sum secret love affair(8th house ruler of libra in 12) or like something about it is forbidden/ secretive. I also do have Moon and Jupiter in Cancer in the 5th house that year so that should be interesting lol. Let me know what aspects/ placements in your future solar returns yall find interesting and have down in the comments I wanna see.

💋A Saggitarius Ascendant/ 9th placements might mean that you get opportunity to travel

💋Having Lilith in the 2nd house might mean that you struggle with eating consistently or might struggle with self worth and body image.

💋Venus in the 4th house will be a year where you try to improve your home and find comfort in familial relationships

💋Look at transits to your solar return too theyll give you a deeper dive in whats going on you can look on astroseek.

💋12th house placements will make you inclined to find god

💋On November 16 2021 I caught feelings bad for this guy and I would go on to like him for a long time. Near that time I had a Venus Return and also a transit Solar Return with a 7th house stellium(Sun,Mars,Mercury,Moon in Libra/Scorpio). I was around this guy 24/7 and it just unexpectedly happened. Near that time Iwas having so much fun with my friends in cross country I feel so fond about those days that I could never forget.

💋 Last year having a Gemini Rising but placements like Mars and Moon in the 12th made me get talked about unknowingly behind my back so keep that in mind. Girls secretly hated me and also one of my “friends” twisted my words and spread drama about me.

💋Pay special attention to Chiron and where it is in your chart ESPECIALLY if its in retrograde

Anyways I hope yall enjoyed this was very last minute and I know people have been complaining about there not being enough Solar Return observations so here I am lol. See yall next time💋

#astrology #astrology observations #solar return #my observations

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martinsorbit · 1 year ago

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Oh hey, it's that sun guy.

After two arduous weeks (Aug 1st - Aug 15th) the Sun cold porcelain figure is COMPLETE! DONE! FINISHED! HE IS HERE IN ALL HIS GLORY

Its been a long (and at times painful) process considering the time it took for all the stuff to dry and for me to have free time to finish this project, but now the silly little jester is in my hands and he looks SO CUTE AND COOL!! HE EVEN HAS A HOOK

Thanks everyone for hyping me up and keeping me motivated during this <3 It literally meant a ton and helped me keep working on this bonkus shit

under the read more, there will be some more details about the figure itself and some more pictures ( Like materials, how much time it took, the process stuff etc)

feel free to ask me questions! thanks everyone!

QUESTIONS ABOUT THE PROCESS!

Q: What materials did you use for this?

A: White Cold Porcelain, Hot Glue, super glue, pencils, pliers, paper clips, scissors, paint, all purpose varnish, paintbrushes, metalic pens

Q: How long did it take to make him?

A: Roughly two weeks

Q: Are you going to make moon too?

A: yes but it will take a while

Q: [X element of suns character design] is missing.

A: trust me, I know. Ive been staring at his model for roughly a whole week and mentally rotating him in my brain , so if something is missing its cuz i was either having a hard time making it or cuz I took creative liberties lmao

Q: How long did it take for the stuff to dry?

A: The cold porcelain abt 3 ish days; Paint took 1 day and the varnish also a day (as it states in the bottle)

FINAL NOTES:

Yes, you can use colored cold porcelain instead of painting it! It's just easier for me to paint it over

- For the love of god, be careful when applying the varnish, that shit is bad for your health! read the instructions, do it in a ventilated area, and NEVER put it too close to your face, or u might get some not so good side effects ( like yer eyes burning)

No, i dont intend on selling him anytime soon sorry ( this was asked before regarding some other cold porcelain thing I did, so I just thought i would add it here)

- If u dont wanna spend too much money on the colors u can just buy some Yellow, Cyan, Magenta, Black and White (CMYK) along with some skin tones; u can basically make any color from those

- I used two of Sun's main poses in the game as inspo for making this

- His faceplate is supposed to spin but since it keeps falling off I decided to glue it

#martinsaysstuff #fnaf #mars artz #fnaf dca #dca #fnaf security breach #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendant #sun #five nights at freddy's

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simplygojo · 2 months ago

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Unspoken Desires

Author's Note: THANK YOU for your kind words, my friend!! I loved this request, sorry for the delay on it hehehe. I love the concept of the Drink, Dare, and Desire and think it turned out pretty well so I was so happy to get your request. I hope it is what you were expecting, I am always open to feedback :) Lurrvv u anon <3 (sorry I forgot to include Nanami...MY BADD)

My requests are always open :)

Request: “no cuz like why did Drink, Dare, and Desire eat. its how i found ur account and now ive literally read all of your works. you are so so talented. like fr ur so underrated. i wanted to request if you could do smth similar to Drink, Dare, and Desire but with young gojo, geto, shoko, nanami? potentially a gojo au ^.^” - Anonymous

Pairing: 19yo!Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Word Count : 4.1K

Warnings : 18+ Content, SMUT!, fingering, intercourse, alcohol use

The Jujutsu High dorms were filled with a cozy, intimate glow as the evening wore on. The soft light from the desk lamps cast a warm, inviting hue over the room, creating a perfect setting for a night of relaxation after a rigorous week of training. The air was charged with laughter and the faint, comforting aroma of sake.

You, Gojo, Geto, and Shoko had gathered in the common room, the evening unfolding with a mixture of playful banter and flirtatious energy.

Gojo, as usual, was at the center of it all, his charismatic presence impossible to ignore, not to mention he was such an attention whore. With a smirk on his face and a glint in his eye, he suggested a game of Truth or Dare, promising to spice up the evening.

“Alright, everyone,” Gojo announced, spinning the bottle with a dramatic flourish. “Let’s turn up the heat. Truth or dare?”

Shoko, lounging comfortably on the arm of the couch next to Geto, raised an eyebrow. “I’m in. Let’s make this interesting.”

Geto, leaning casually against the wall with a drink in hand, gave a nod of agreement. “Yeah, I’m game. Let’s take it easy on each other, though.”

The bottle spun and finally pointed to Shoko. She met your gaze with a mischievous grin, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Truth or dare, Shoko?” You asked, your tone laced with playful curiosity.

“Dare,” Shoko replied, her voice steady.

You leaned forward, emboldened by the alcohol and the thrilling atmosphere. “I dare you to share your biggest kink with us.”

Shoko’s cheeks flushed, but she responded with a sense of lazy confidence. “I’ve always been into dominant partners. I like it when someone takes control and knows exactly what they want.”

The room erupted in laughter and knowing looks as the conversation turned to more intimate revelations. The game continued, each turn more daring than the last.

When it was Gojo’s turn, the bottle landed on you. His eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and mischief as he leaned in, clearly excited to challenge you.

“Truth or dare, y/n?” Gojo asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Dare,” you replied, trying to match his playful tone.

Gojo’s smile widened, and he leaned closer, his eyes locked onto yours with a smouldering intensity. “I dare you to give me a kiss. Right here, right now.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt a rush of heat. The challenge was bold, but you couldn’t resist the thrill it sparked. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smirk tugging at your lips. “Fine. You asked for it.”

Gojo’s expression turned from playful to interested as he leaned towards where you sat beside him. His lips hovered near yours—the anticipation was tangible. You felt a jolt of excitement as you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a tender and fervent kiss.

His kiss was a mix of softness and intensity, his lips exploring yours with a passion that made your heart race. A heat formed between your legs almost instantly after his long fingers found themselves around your belt loop.

The kiss deepened as Gojo’s lips moved against yours with an emotional urgency.

His touch was firm but gentle, and the warmth of his lips moving hungrily against yours made your pulse quicken. You felt a surge of desire, a thrilling intensity that matched the fervour of his kiss.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, Gojo’s gaze was filled with a mix of satisfaction and something more profound. He grinned, clearly pleased with the outcome of his dare. The room was charged with an electric tension, the intimate connection between you and Gojo palpable.

The awkward silence in the room was thick with anticipation as Shoko and Geto watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Shoko leaned back against the couch with a smirk, an unlit cigarette dandled between her lips. “Well, that was something,” she remarked, her voice laced with playful sarcasm. “Gojo’s definitely not holding back tonight.”

Geto, who had been observing with a mix of interest and approval, chuckled softly. “Looks like Satoru’s been keeping a few secrets,” he said, his tone light but edged with a hint of intrigue. “You two make quite the pair.”

You, still catching your breath, felt your cheeks flush at their comments. Gojo’s arm remained around you, his presence both comforting and intensely alluring.

“Are you always this bold during Truth or Dare?” You teased, trying to lighten the mood while still feeling the heat from the kiss. You shoved his arm off of you and scooted back over to your previous spot on the couch.

Gojo’s grin widened as he looked down at you. “Only when it’s worth it,” he said with a confident wink, provoking another annoyed eye roll from you.

As the game continued, Shoko took another long sip from her cup, a teasing glint in her eyes as she leaned back against the couch. The atmosphere in the room had shifted, the playful undertones now replaced with a palpable tension. Each revelation that followed seemed to push the boundaries further, testing the limits of comfort and desire.

Shoko swirled her drink lazily, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Alright, Geto,” she began, her voice laced with amusement. “Truth or dare?”

Geto, ever calm and composed, raised an eyebrow at her. “Truth,” he replied smoothly, taking a relaxed sip of his sake. He had been observant the whole night, watching the growing tension between you and Gojo with keen interest.

Shoko didn’t miss a beat. “Tell us your biggest fantasy,” she said, her tone both playful and challenging, the question causing Geto to choke on his sake. The question lingered in the air, drawing everyone's attention.

Geto’s gaze flickered briefly to you and Gojo before he answered, his voice casual yet with an edge of sincerity. “My biggest fantasy?”

He took a moment, his dark eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. “I’ve always thought about having control over every sensation someone feels. To see them completely at my mercy, knowing every touch, every breath I take is driving them wild.” His gaze settled on the ground in front of him as he finished, his smile growing. “There’s something irresistible about being in control.”

Shoko chuckled softly, clearly entertained by his response. “Of course, you'd say something like that. You’re so emo, Geto.” She rolled her eyes but didn't seem surprised. There was a flicker of intrigue in her eyes, though.

You shifted in your seat, the charged atmosphere making it harder to sit still. Gojo’s hand, resting dangerously close to your thigh, gave a subtle twitch, reminding you of his proximity.

His fingers brushed lightly against your leg, sending another wave of heat coursing through you. You glanced at him, catching the faintest smirk playing on his lips.

After another round of revealing truths and daring challenges, Geto turned to Gojo with a sly grin. “Truth or Dare, Satoru?” “Dare,” Gojo replied with confidence.

“Have you ever had a wet dream about anyone here?” You practically choked at Geto’s direct question.

Gojo’s eyes gleamed with a mischievous light. “Actually, yes.”

The room fell silent, anticipation hanging in the air. You felt your cheeks flush as you glanced to your left at Gojo, who met your gaze with a knowing smile.

Geto leaned forward, putting a hand on his knee as he took a big sip of sake, clearly intrigued. “Who was it about?”

Gojo’s eyes locked onto yours with an intense, burning gaze. “It was about y/n.”

The confession hit you like a jolt, that burning heat returning to your crotch, making you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to squash the feeling. The revelation made your skin tingle and your heart race.

The room seemed to narrow to just you and Gojo, the weight of his words making your arousal more palpable.

Shoko sighed loudly, “What a shocker.” She said before tilting her cup up to drink the last few drops of sake she had in her cup.

You tried to steady your breathing, but Gojo’s intense gaze and the revelation had stirred a deep, simmering desire within you. The wet heat pooling between your thighs intensified, and you became acutely aware of every touch, every glance.

Gojo’s grin widened as he saw the effect his words had on you. He subtly shifted closer, his hand brushing against yours with deliberate and charged intent.

“Looks like I’ve got your attention,” he said, his voice low and sultry.

You met his gaze, your breath hitching as the atmosphere between you thickened. The desire in his eyes mirrored the heat you felt, and it was impossible to ignore the magnetic pull between you.

As the tension between you and Gojo thickened, his hand began to move with quiet intent, brushing against your thigh with the faintest touch.

It was subtle—almost teasing, but the sensation sent a shiver through your body. He was barely touching you, but the electricity in that light contact made your skin tingle, every nerve hyper-aware of his presence.

You tried to focus on the ongoing conversation, but Gojo's fingertips grazed your thigh again, this time lingering just a moment longer.

The casual way he did it—like it was nothing, just a simple gesture—made it even more intoxicating. Your breath hitched as the warmth in your core began to build, a slow burn that grew with each fleeting touch. You were practically squirming with arousal.

Gojo's gaze flickered toward you, his eyes filled with that same teasing glint—he knew exactly what he was doing to you. Every time his hand brushed against your skin, it became harder to ignore the growing ache between your legs. You shifted in your seat, trying to find some relief, but the friction only heightened your arousal.

Shoko, who had just finished telling a long story about one of the corpses she was working with, chuckled and leaned back against the couch. “I think I’ve had enough for tonight. Time for a smoke and some sleep,” she announced lazily, stretching her arms above her head.

Geto, always the gentleman, gave a nod and stood up, finishing off his drink as well. “I’ll join you. I am getting pretty tired myself.”

You felt a strange mix of relief and anticipation as Shoko and Geto prepared to leave, the prospect of being alone with Gojo sending another thrill through you.

The playful teasing from earlier now seemed to hang in the air like a promise, unspoken but understood.

As Shoko and Geto moved toward the door, Gojo’s hand slid further up your thigh, his fingers brushing dangerously close to the hem of your pyjama shorts. You bit your lip, trying to steady your breathing, but the heat between your legs was now a steady throb, a pulse that begged for more of his touch.

“Night, you two,” Shoko called over her shoulder with a knowing smile. She and Geto gave a final wave before stepping out into the cool night air, with Geto following behind her.

As the door clicked shut behind Shoko and Geto, the room seemed to grow quieter. The only sounds now are the soft hum of the air and the pounding of your heart. The atmosphere thickened, the lingering heat of their playful banter giving way to a deeper, more charged tension.

Gojo broke the silence first as he slid his hand off of your thigh, his voice low and teasing, carrying a weight that made your pulse quicken.

“Looks like it’s just the two of us now,” he drawled, the words rolling off his tongue like silk. He leaned back against the couch, his legs spread in a confident but relaxed manner, but the intensity in his eyes behind those rounded shades told a different story.

There was something predatory in the way he looked at you, his gaze tracing the curve of your body with shameless intent.

You swallowed hard, the room feeling smaller, more intimate now that it was just the two of you. The heat that had been simmering between you all night flared to life, and it became impossible to ignore the pull, the desire that had been building.

“I guess it is,” you replied, sounding far steadier than you felt.

Gojo’s smirk widened as he shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours, the subtle contact enough to send a shiver racing down your spine.

His eyes stayed locked on yours, intense and unyielding, as his hand slowly slid toward your thigh, already pressed against his. His fingers barely grazed your skin, a feather-light touch that sent jolts of electricity sparking through your body, igniting every nerve.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” Gojo murmured, his voice dropping lower as his fingers traced lazy circles along the inner part of your thigh, the teasing touch maddeningly gentle. “I’m sure you know that, don’t you?”

You nodded in response, but you felt your breath hitch as his hand slid higher, the heat from his palm searing through the fabric of your shorts. The way his fingers lingered so close to where you wanted him made your skin tingle with anticipation.

It was agonizing, but it was also thrilling—the way he held back, drawing out your need until it became unbearable.

“You’re torturing me, Gojo,” you managed to whisper, your voice betraying the desperation building inside you. The ache between your legs was nearly unbearable now, every touch of his hand sending waves of heat through your body.

Gojo’s grin widened, but the look in his eyes was darker, more intense. “Am I?” he teased, his fingers slipping just beneath the hem of your shorts, grazing the edge of your panties. “I haven’t even started yet.”

The deliberate slowness of his touch was driving you insane, and you could feel the wetness pooling between your thighs as his hand hovered so close, teasing but not quite giving you what you craved.

You had enough, and you went to stand up, to move yourself onto him yourself. But he pushed you back down into your seat with one of his large hands on your abdomen.

“You’re such a tease,” you breathed as you were forced back down–your voice catching as he moved closer to your face, placing a teasing kiss on your neck.

Gojo chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling. “I like watching you squirm for me,” he confessed, his hand finally slipping beneath the fabric of your shorts, brushing lightly over your soaked panties.

The contact sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making you gasp softly. “It’s almost too easy.”

His touch was maddening, his fingers tracing the outline of your folds through the thin fabric, but not quite giving you the pressure you needed. He placed sloppy kisses trailing down your neck as he toyed with you.

You could feel your pulse quicken, the heat between your legs intensifying with every second. The anticipation was unbearable—you were practically clawing at your cage—you found yourself leaning into his touch, silently begging for more.

“You’re so wet already,” Gojo whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned in, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “Is this all for me?”

You could barely think, let alone form a coherent response. All you could do was nod and a meek-sounding “mhmm,” your body trembling under his touch as his fingers continued to tease you, slipping beneath your panties now, gliding through your wetness with practiced ease.

“I knew you wanted this,” he murmured against your skin, his lips pressing soft kisses along the curve of your neck. His fingers found your clit, circling it with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made you audibly moan. The sensation was overwhelming, and your body arched into his touch, craving more.

“Tell me what you want,” Gojo whispered, his voice a low, seductive hum in your ear as his fingers worked you with expert precision. His other hand slid up your body, cupping your breast through your shirt, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple.

The combination of sensations—the way his fingers moved against your clit, the heat of his hand on your breast—was almost too much to bear. Your body ached for release, the tension coiling tighter with every passing second.

“I want you, Gojo,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need. Every nerve in your body was on fire, your skin tingling with the promise of what was to come. “I want you in me,” you breathed out, almost embarrassed to say it out loud.

Gojo’s smile was wicked as he applied more pressure, his fingers moving faster now, coaxing out those sweet, soft moans from your lips.

“That’s more like it,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. His other hand slipped beneath your shirt, finding your bare skin, his touch firm and possessive.

Just as you felt yourself nearing the edge, Gojo pulled back slightly, his fingers exiting your gummy walls, leaving you teetering on the brink of release. “Not so fast, y/n,” he murmured, his voice filled with amusement. “I can’t let you cum for me quite yet, I wanted to recreate that dream I had…”

With a swift movement, he lifted you, adjusting your position from sitting beside him to straddling him. As you straddled him, you could feel the hardness of his cock pressed against your soaked pussy, aching to be inside you. His hands on your hips were firm, and his touch sent shivers down your spine.

His smirk softened into something darker, more primal, and without another word, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a searing, hungry kiss. Your hands tangled in his soft white hair, gripping it tightly as you leaned into the kiss.

Gojo’s lips moved against yours with an insistent hunger, each kiss deepening the tension between you. His hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling them into a grinding motion as his bulge pressed harder against your core, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

Gojo inhaled sharply, and he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his blue eyes now dark with desire. “You feel so good like this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. His hands roamed over your waist, pulling you down onto him. T

The two of you exchanged as your breath came out in short gasps against his mouth, each movement of his hips making you crave more.

You could feel the heat radiating between you, the pulse of your shared desire growing stronger with every subtle grind of your hips.

As you straddled him, he unbuttoned his pants to reveal his giant cock, making your mouth practically water with anticipation. Teasingly slow, he pressed the thick head against your entrance, the heat of him making you dizzy.

He teased you with the tip of his thick cock, pressing it teasingly against your entrance before slowly pushing inside. This evoked a string of moans echoing his name in the now-empty common area.

With a deep groan, he thrust into you, filling and stretching you with each powerful movement. He threw his head back in ecstasy as loud moans escaped his lips, while you felt your walls pulsing around him.

You could see the tension in his muscles as he thrust into you, his face contorted in pleasure with every powerful movement. Gojo’s mouth hangs open in a blissful expression, and your own body is flush with desire and need as you watch him.

The sensation was almost too much to handle, but the intense pleasure kept coming.

Gojo's warm body pressed against yours, your skin slick with sweat and heat as he moves inside you. Every thrust feels like a wave crashing over you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulls you closer.

As he pounded into you, the sensation of his skin against yours was electric, igniting every nerve ending in your body. Your hands grasped at his chest as you rode him, feeling the muscles flex and tense with every thrust. And as you tightened around him, you could feel his body respond, moving with even more urgency and need.

Your screams echoed through the room as tears streamed down your face from the overwhelming pleasure of his dominating rhythm. And even though you knew that Shoko and Geto were in their rooms just down the hall, you couldn’t help but keep shouting out his name in pure bliss.

—

You should have known, but due to Gojo being the self-proclaimed ‘strongest,’ you two spent the next few hours fucking in that common room.

Neither of you had gotten much sleep, but somehow, you ended up in his bedroom, tangled in the sheets of his small bed, lying in each other's arms as you cracked a few jokes with each other, laughing until the sun rose.

Gojo's piercing blue eyes locked onto yours, his gaze steady but filled with a raw intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. His usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his lips were set in a thin line, the vulnerability in his voice betraying his usual confidence.

"Y/n," he whispered, the words rough but so quiet, like they’d been sitting on his tongue for far too long. "I’ve wanted this... wanted you...for so long."

It was surreal seeing Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, like this—unguarded.

His white hair fell loosely across his forehead, framing his handsome face, and for once, his eyes, usually concealed behind his goofy-looking sunglasses, were fully visible, the intensity of their electric blue drawing you in like gravity.

It was as if the entire universe had quieted, and all that remained was this moment.

“Gojo…” you whispered back, your own voice trembling slightly. Your heart pounded in your chest as you reached up to brush a strand of his hair away from his face. His skin was warm against your fingertips, and his gaze softened at your touch, but the heat in his eyes only grew.

A small smirk finally pulled at the corner of his lips, though it lacked his usual bravado. “Aww, look at you,” he teased lightly, his voice low and husky, but there was a nervous edge to it. “Looks like you care for me too, huh, y/n?”

His hand cradled your face, his long fingers grazing your cheek with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his usual arrogance. His thumb brushed lightly over your lips, and you could feel his cursed energy ripple faintly, heightening every sensation, every touch.

“Oh wow, what gave it away?” You teased, a small laugh escaping your lips as you planted a small kiss at the corner of his lips.

"I've dreamed of this," he admitted, his forehead leaning into yours. “Yeah, I know. You told all of us about your wet dream.” You said it with a giggle, a playful tone still in hold of your words.

His breath was warm against your lips, and you could feel the tension between you building, like the moment before lightning strikes.

"Yeah,” He laughed at your quick remark, “There is that. But that’s not what I meant this time. I have dreamed of this—of holding you, of telling you how much you mean to me." His voice dipped lower, laced with emotion.

“Satoru…” you said, your voice trembling as your hands slid up his chest, feeling the solidness of his body beneath his clothes. There was so much strength in him, but right now, all you felt was the vulnerability and desire he rarely showed anyone.

The kiss deepened slowly, not out of hunger, but out of a desperate need for connection, as if he had been holding these feelings back for so long and could finally let them out.

He pulled back slightly, his breath ragged as he gazed down at you. “Do you know how hard it is to control myself around you?” He said, his voice dripped with desire.

He leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that was so gentle—so full of emotion, it nearly took your breath away. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by an earnestness that you rarely saw from him.

“You mean everything to me,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. His fingers tangled in your hair, his touch tender. “I need you to know that. I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

And in that moment, with Satoru Gojo’s arms around you, it felt like the rest of the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you and the emotions you had both been too afraid to share for so long.

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todayisawthewhxlewxrld · 9 months ago

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A TRAGEDY THAT'S BUILT ON DESTINY!

I WOULD CHANGE MOST EVERY SINGLE THING. I WOULD LET YOU KISS ME, KILL ME!

synopsis// multiple different universes, but one thing remains the same: geto loves you in each and every one of them.

pairing// suguru geto x gn!reader

word count// 5.8k

contents// different universes, angst, satisfying angst?, hurt/no comfort but also hurt/comfort at the same time, ooc geto?, character death tehe

notes// inspired by everything everywhere all at once and the song kiss me kill me by mest :3 i wrote this SOOOO long ago but u have no idea how much i adore this oneshot. like i think it might be my fav oneshot ive ever written. it is everything to me!! and i did not do the idea justice but u get the point!!

December 24th

You assume the fight is over because neither you nor Shoko have gotten any more wounded victims. The two of you glance at each other briefly but don’t bother saying anything. What could be said about a full-blown borderline war schemed by your high school best friend and lover? Nothing could possibly be said, so nothing is. The two of you stand there waiting for anything to happen, whether that’s getting called back to Jujutsu High or being brought another victim, and eventually something does happen, and Shoko gets a call. You can’t read her expression for the whole 20 seconds she’s on the phone before she passes it to you. You furrow your eyebrows in question.

“It’s Gojo,” she says blankly before attempting to hand you the phone again.

You hesitate to answer. “Hello?”

“You should get down here,” he says blankly over the phone.

“What? Why? Is everything okay?”

“Um, yeah, just—you know those back alleys by the school?”

“Uh huh?”

“Meet me there.”

“Gojo, you’re kinda scaring me-“

“Y/N, just come; you’ll thank me—I hope.”

You frown and begrudgingly agree, “Okay, fine, yeah, whatever, I'm on my way.”

“Make it quick, alright? I'm serious,” he adds quickly before hanging up.

As you give Shoko her phone back, you roll your eyes at the fact that he didn't even give you a chance to say okay before hanging up.

“What was that about?” she wonders, slipping her phone back into her pocket.

You sigh. “No idea, but he wants me to go meet up with him for some reason.”

Shoko hums curiously. “You should get going then; must be urgent.”

You nod, “Yeah.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

It doesn't take you long to get to the school given how fast you were walking since Gojo told you to hurry it up, the tense anticipation aiding in your speed. It does, however, take you a few moments to find Gojo, but once you do, you find that he's not looking at you, but he’s speaking, and it's not to you either; it's to something—or rather someone—he's blocking with his body.

“Gojo?” you ask once you finally reach him.

Gojo turns to face you, a sorrowful smile on his face, before stepping out of the way to reveal who he was speaking to and the whole reason why he called you here in the first place.

When you see Getou on the ground, your heart sinks into your stomach, and your blood runs cold. You look back at Gojo, who merely shrugs.

“You should say your goodbyes; I already did,” Gojo whispers before leaving you and Getou alone.

Getou lets out a hushed laugh. “That’s a little melodramatic of him, don’t you think?”

The hammering of your heart roaring in your ears makes it difficult to hear what he says. You stand there frozen in what you can only describe as horror as you stare down at Getou, who's missing an arm and is only growing more pale by the second from blood loss.

“Do you plan on ignoring me?” he asks softly, as though he’d understand if that really was your plan.

You blink a few times and shake your head, your tears blurring your vision. “I dont-“

Getou hums appreciatively and smiles up at you, which makes you completely break down, a sob racking through your body so violently that the only thing you can do is collapse to your knees. Getou winces as he tries to sit up straighter, as if he’s going to catch you or crawl over to you. You sniffle, your sobbing uncontrollable, as you crawl to him, and once there, you let your head fall upon his blood-stained chest. Getou immediately places his only remaining hand on the back of your head, as if holding it to his chest, and gently pats your head.

“Are you an idiot?” you snap.

“Might be.”

You sob even harder into his chest. “Why would you do this?”

Your question makes his heart race. “I wanted something better for Jujutsu society.”

You shake your head at him disapprovingly. “Why’d you have to go about it this way?”

“I don’t know Y/N," he sighs. "Does it make a difference?”

You scoff, raising your head to glare at him. “Of course it does, you idiot! You left! and had a hit placed on you! Why couldn’t you have just stayed?” You sob, letting your head fall back onto his chest. “Why couldn’t you have wanted me as much as you wanted this? Why couldn’t... Why couldn’t you have wanted me as much as I wanted you?”

“Y/N,” he coos regretfully, as if he doesn’t know what to say, which he doesn’t. He did want you, and he’d even go as far as saying he wanted a better jujutsu society for you so you wouldn’t have to live your days slaving away for the non-sorcerers. “Y/N, look at me.”

You shake your head and screw your eyes shut, not wanting to look at him. You don’t want to see your first and only love withering away right in front of you.

“Y/N, please look at me.”

“I-I can't."

“Y/N, open your eyes.”

The demandingness dripping from his voice has your head shooting up to look at him and your eyes opening wide, but as you open them, you’re not met with an actively dying Getou; you're met with a sunny and flower-filled meadow? You move to wipe your tears, but your face is dry. You blink a few times, trying to take in your new surroundings, given that a moment ago you were just in a dark alley and now you're sitting on a blanket in a field under a glowing sun.

“Y/N?” Someone speaks from beside you.

Your attention is drawn to the person. “Getou?”

He smiles at you.

“Getou, where are we?” you ask, now starting to slightly panic.

He looks at you in confusion. “We’re on our date?”

Your chest heaves up and down, and you're more confused than ever. “Huh? But- We-“

“We what?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“We were just behind Jujutsu High; you were missing your arm, and-"

Getou scoots in closer to you and cradles your face in his hands. The feeling of a warm, full-of-life Getou touching you brings tears to your eyes all over again.

“Woah, woah, love, calm down. What are you talking about? Jujutsu High? Me missing an arm?”

“You don’t remember?” You croak out, distraught, and slightly convinced that you’re going crazy.

“Remember what, love?” he asks softly.

You stare at him in disbelief. “The fight—you wanted a better jujutsu society, and you tried? You lost your arm! You were dying; I saw you! I was there with you! You were covered in blood and-“

Getou gently wipes your tears away. “Love, that didn’t happen. I’m here, yeah? and I have both my arms, and there was no fight for Jujutsu society? Whatever that means..."

You blink at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

“It was probably just a bad dream, Y/N.” He smiles at you reassuringly.

“You don’t know about jujutsu society?”

“Am I supposed to?”

You stare at him in awe. What’s happening? How could he not know about jujutsu society when it was the very thing he was fighting for? But then again, how could he not be missing an arm? And how could the two of you not be in a dark alleyway right now? How could any of this be happening? Maybe he’s right; maybe it really was a bad dream. A very vivid, detailed, lucid, and lifelike bad dream.

“I guess not,” you respond with a frown.

Getou wipes away your last few tears and smiles at you. “You’re okay; I’m okay. We’re okay. It was just a bad dream, love.”

“Yeah,” you say haltingly, "yeah, I guess it was..."

“Are you okay now?”

You nod as you take one of his hands off your face and into your own. “Yeah, I think so... Um, where are we, Getou?”

“On our weekly date?” He answers curiously as he removes his other hand from your face.

You look around at your surroundings curiously. “In the middle of a forest?”

“This is your favorite place, Y/N,” he says, quizically.

As you take another glance around, you hum, not necessarily agreeing or disagreeing. “I can see why; it’s beautiful here.”

He raises his free hand and grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Y/N, are you okay? How come you don't remember?”

You look into his eyes, and something doesn't feel right—as if you're not meant to be here—but you digress and shrug anyway. “I don't know...”

He frowns briefly before leaning in and giving you a quick peck on the lips, and you practically melt, having not felt his lips on yours for far too long.

“That's alright. We can still make the most of the rest of our day, right?”

You nod, and he smiles at your response, letting go of your face and hand to open his arms to you, inviting you into his embrace. You return the smile before laying yourself in his arms, trying to ignore the rising feeling that something is wrong, but you can't because the minute your head touches his chest, you're thrown into a moment, a memory, a dream? where you're back in the alley with your head on a bleeding-out Getou, and it's just for a split second, a flash in time, but it's enough to make you go stiff and your breath hitch.

Getou rubs his hand down your back soothingly. “Hey, what's wrong?”

You swallow harshly and try to concentrate on the green scenery in front of you rather than whatever you keep seeing. “Nothing, I'm fine. It's fine.”

Getou places his head on top of yours. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I am.”

He hums disapprovingly but doesn't press the issue any further; instead, he just runs his hand up and down your spine in an attempt to calm you down, which works as you begin to relax into his embrace and regain control of your breathing.

“What do we usually do here?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He shrugs. “Usually just talk about our days, our future plans, and stuff like that.”

You hum. “Is it nice?”

“Very nice; I like spending our days together.”

“I do too,” you correct yourself, “or I'm sure I did too.”

Getou doesn't say anything; instead, he lays himself down and, since he's holding you, takes you with him. You sigh contentedly and let your eyes flutter close, the sun and his hold keeping you warm. Suddenly, even with your eyes closed, you can tell it's getting brighter outside, and you groan. You’re about to ask what's up with the sun when a shooting pain in your head causes you to wince. Your heartbeat rings in your ears, and you can feel your hands grow clammy.

You feel unstable, as if you're no longer on the ground being held, as if you're floating through time and space, and the uncertainty forces your eyes open, but you're not met with anything—no, that's not right, you're met with everything, glimpses of time that you can barely make out. One moment you see Getou at an alter, and then you see you and Getou nodding to each other in determination, and the next glimpse is of you, Getou, Gojo, and Shoko laughing about something before you’re hit with another shooting pain in your head. Screwing your eyes shut, you hiss in pain, and all too suddenly, you're back on stable ground, no longer floating, and the brightness you could see through closed eyes a moment ago is gone.

You still hesitate to open your eyes, unsure of what you'll see, but when you can just barely make out that you're not where you were before, your eyes shoot open. You're now standing in the doorway of what appears to be the room of two teen girls, and Getou is sitting at a vanity staring at you; his hair and make-up are done, and he's frowning. Despite your confusion about where you are, you can't help but burst out into a fit of laughter.

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Oh haha, yeah, keep laughing.”

You slap your hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter. “What happened?”

He crosses his arms over his chest and looks away, mumbling, “Our daughters thought I would make a very good model, apparently.”

You go to laugh again, but it hits you, and you look at him like he's crazy. “Sorry, daughters?”

He returns the look. “Yes? Our kids?”

You look away, muttering to yourself, “We have kids...”

You didn't mean for him to hear it, but he does anyway and instantly stands up and makes his way toward you. He grabs your shoulders, drawing your attention to him, and when you look at him, he's staring back at you in concern.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You want to take him seriously, but truthfully, you can't when he’s wearing bright pink lipstick and bright pink eyeshadow. He does look cute, though. You try to bite back a smile.

“I'm sorry, but I can't take you seriously when you look like that.”

Getou sighs. “I know I look amazing. Can you try to ignore my beauty for like five seconds and tell me why you’re acting like you don't remember our kids?”

You frown. What are you supposed to tell him? That you're apparently having nightmares upon nightmares about different lives with him? And now you're not sure what's real and what's not? You can't say that, so instead you shrug and merely mutter, “You do look amazing like that, though.”

His head drops to the side at the same moment that his smile fades. “Y/N.”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“Some really weird shit is going on, Getou,” you breathe out heavily.

He doesn’t say anything, instead grabbing your hand and leading you to one of your apparent kids' beds, where he sits you down.

“What’s going on?”

“I don't know, and you wouldn't know either so,” you explain vaguely in frustration.

He gives your hand a squeeze. “Maybe I would?”

You shake your head. “I don’t wanna waste time on that; I don't know how long I have here.”

“What?” he asks blankly. “What do you mean you ‘don't know how long you have here’?”

“Getou,” you whine, not wanting to think or talk about it because you wouldn't even know where to start; all you want is to learn about this new nightmare and what it holds.

He relents. “Okay, I won't ask.”

You smile at him and let a moment of silence pass before asking, “What are they like?”

“Huh?”

“Our kids—daughters.”

Getou hums. “They’re great; we raised them well.”

“They are especially great at making you a model, huh?” you snicker.

He laughs and rolls his eyes. “Oh whatever, you're just jealous they never make you model.”

You shrug. “What are their names?”

“Well, we were gonna keep the names they had when we adopted them, but they ended up not having any names at all, so we settled on Nanako and Mimiko.”

You stare at him in awe. “Did you pick the names out?”

“We both did,” he recalls fondly and vividly, as if it were just yesterday that the two of you were picking out names.

“And we are...?”

He kisses your cheek before answering, “Married—we’re married.”

You hum and raise your left hand, your gaze fixed on your ring finger. “I don't see a ring?”

He hums curiously. “You were wearing it this morning? Maybe you dropped it somewhere?”

You nod. “Yeah.. Maybe..”

Getou doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t know what to say. What could he? His partner of multiple years suddenly has some form of amnesia and can't remember that they have kids, let alone that they’re married to him. You turn to face Getou. He looks like Getou—like the Getou you know, who apparently was merely a nightmare. Besides all the makeup and stuff, he looks like Getou. He says he’s Getou, but something just feels off.

“Are you real?”

He nods. “Very real.”

You look around the room, taking in the messy vanities, the messy beds, and the drawers stuffed with clothes. “Are our kids real?”

“Extremely real.”

You study his face for any hint of uncertainty, and when you find none, you ask, “Am I real?”

He narrows his eyes at you and hums curiously. letting go of your hand only to bring both hands up to your face and start smooshing your face together, pushing and pulling at the flesh on your cheeks.

“Getou,” you mumble.

He hums approvingly and nods, letting his hands fall back to his sides. “Yep, you’re real.”

You smile at his idiotic antics but appreciate them nonetheless. And although you can touch him and feel him, and he is real, as are you and your kids, it still doesn't seem real. And then, all too suddenly, your head starts throbbing again.

“Fuck no, not again,“ you panic.

“Y/N? whats wrong-“

You can't hear what he’s saying anymore; it's like you've gone underwater and he's speaking to you from the surface. Another shooting pain in your head has your eyes screwing shut, and you know you're fucked when all you can hear is your heartbeat ringing in your ears and feel your hands grow clammy all over again. You’re back to feeling unstable, drifting between time and space once more, and just like last time, the uncertainty of the feeling forces your eyes open, and you're faced with everything again—more glimpses in time that you can barely make out.

One moment you think you see yourself back at the beginning on Getou’s cold chest, and then you see yourself and Getou covered in blood, and you're not sure if it's yours or someone else's, and the next glimpse you see is of Getou on your cold chest, like your roles had been reversed, before you’re hit with another shooting pain in your head. Screwing your eyes shut, you wince in pain, and finally you're back on solid ground again, no longer floating, and the brightness you could see through closed eyes a moment ago is gone. This time you don't hesitate to open your eyes, and you find yourself in a cemetery.

You look around curiously, trying to assess your surroundings while simultaneously trying to recover from whatever just happened. But you're starting to realize something now. All of this is real. You laying on Getou’s chest was real; having a picnic with a perfectly fine Getou in a world where curses apparently don't exist was real; having kids and marrying Getou was real; and all of those little bits of time in between each new life were real. All of it was real—is real; all of it happened—is happening; it just didn't happen to you specifically. Not this version of you, at least. You’ve realized that you’re experiencing different universes and living alternate lives of your own. You didn’t think alternate universes existed, but it's not too hard to accept when the world you live in—the world you belong to—is riddled with curses and sorcerers. You are not above believing in alternate dimensions.

Finally over your sudden epiphany, you're able to realize that you weren't immediately met with Getou like you had been the past two times you got transported into another dimension. As you put the pieces together, a grave feeling washes over you—no Getou, and you’re in a cemetery. You swallow harshly.

No, no, no.

You start running around the cemetery, inspecting each and every headstone, and praying to the universe(s) that you aren't about to find one that reads his name.

No, no, no.

You keep running, the cemetery seemingly interminable, until you run up behind someone who looks suspiciously a lot like Getou, and when you hear him murmur under his breath, you sigh heavily in relief that it is him, but why is he here? You tilt your head and try to look around him to read the gravestone.

“What the fuck?” you exclaim, stunned.

Getou spins around faster than you can even blink, and he almost chokes on his spit. “Y/N?” His chest heaves up and down as he shifts his gaze between you and the gravestone. “But-but-how-you’re-“

“Dead apparently,” you say, finishing his sentence as you stare at the gravestone that reads, "HERE LIES L/N Y/N."

He stares at you, completely bewildered, and you can see him trembling. “How—how are you here?”

Will something bad happen if you tell him this isn't your universe and there are actually multiple universes out there? Who knows, but you’re about to find out.

“I'm not, well, I'm not supposed to be.”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I'm just hallucinating; you’re not real.”

His reply breaks your heart. “I am real.”

“You’re not.”

You step forward, taking his hand in yours. “I am.”

He finally opens his eyes back up, and he stares at you through tears, completely amazed that you're here, that you're actually touching him, and that you're actually alive and real.

“I don't—I dont understand—you're dead!” He stammers, yanking his hand from yours, and as he breaks out into full-on sobs at this point, he’s reminding you an awful lot of yourself in your own world.

You nod slowly. “In this universe, it seems so... how?”

“What?” he stutters. “This universe?”

You ignore his question. “How did I die, Getou?”

He shakes his head sternly. “No, I'm not saying anything until you explain what you meant. What if you’re a curse? What if I cursed you, holy fuck? Fuck!”

“Okay, curses still exist in this universe; good to know,” you acknowledge with a nod.

Getou snaps, “What are you talking about!?”

You flinch, which only makes him sob harder.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap—I'm just so fucking confused; you're supposed to be dead,” he bawls as he falls to his knees.

You take another step closer and kneel down, drawing him into your embrace and letting him sob into your chest for as long as he needs, ignoring the horrible feeling of deja vu crawling all over you like worms.

“Shh, you're okay,” you whisper, soothingly brushing your fingers through his hair.

He finally starts to calm down after a few more minutes of whispering sweet nothings to him, and once he’s no longer sobbing, he pulls away.

“Answer my question, and I'll answer yours,” he says through sniffles.

You nod.

“What were you talking about, universes? How are you here, Y/N? You’re dead—or you’re supposed to be...”

“Do you believe in alternate or multiple universes?”

He shrugs and wipes away any remaining tears. “I don't know; I never really thought about it.”

You hum and nod. “Right, so, uh, they exist! There are a lot of universes out there, actually." You let out an uneasy laugh.

He stares at you curiously.

“Obviously, I'm not from this universe.”

He continues staring at you.

“Oh, cmon, curses exist, but you draw the line at alternate dimensions?”

Getou frowns and says, “I guess you’re right... So you’re from a ‘different dimension’?”

You point a finger at him, narrowing your eyes. “Don't air-quote me like you don't believe me; how else would I be here right now if I were supposedly dead?”

“I don't know; that's what I'm trying to figure out!” he exclaims, gesticulating wildly.

“Can you just humor me and hear me out?”

He takes a deep breath before ultimately agreeing, “Okay, fine.”

You clasp your hands together. “Okay, um, in my universe, you’re dead.”

“What?!”

You shake your hands and your head. “Ok, no wait! You’re not dead yet, but, uh, you were like on the verge of death when I got put into another universe.”

He looks at you in disbelief. “And you just left me?!”

“It wasn't on purpose! Why would I want to leave you when you’re dying? I don't know how I ended up here! or in the last two other universes!”

He stops you and asks, "Okay, okay, wait—how am I dying?”

You look away awkwardly. “You wanted to change jujutsu society in… a not-so-friendly way... And, um, you were willing to die for your cause.”

“I'm dying the same way you did?”

You return your attention to him. “What?”

Getou nods. “Yeah.”

You shake your head. “What do you mean you're dying the same way I did?”

“In this universe, you’re the one who wanted to change jujutsu society in a... not-so-friendly way,” he explains sheepishly.

“Holy shit,” you mutter to yourself.

He nods again. “So, in yours, our roles are reversed.”

“And I'm dead already? I didn't even last as long as you?”

“Well, yeah, I guess," he shrugs, "but it worked; there hasn't been a curse, at least not a special-grade one, since you died." His eyes gleam as he looks up at you. “Did I succeed?”

You bite the inside of your cheek anxiously and shake your head.

“I'm dying for nothing, then?”

You look away and mumble, “My Getou is okay with it; he knew he might fail—he knew Gojo was the only one who could probably change anything—but he still wanted to try.”

“Okay, well, this—” he gestures to himself, “Getou isn't okay with it.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, well, you’re also still alive, so it doesn't really affect you that much, now does it?”

“Still! You just told me one version of myself is dead—or dying—and I'm supposed to be chill with that?”

You stare at him blankly. “Your version of me is dead.”

Getou grows quiet, and you can almost physically see how his demeanor wilts away.

“Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he says, shaking his head. “You said you were in two other universes before this one, right?”

You nod.

“What were they like?”

You smile as you think back on the previous universes: “We were both alive and happy, and we were together in them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah... and curses didn't exist either.”

“Huh,” he says ambivalently, like he's not sure whether to be happy for his other selves or be bitter that that isn't him. “Tell me more?”

“In the first one, we were actually on a date in some forest that I apparently loved.”

He stares at you wide-eyed, completely engrossed in your retellings.

“In the second one, we were married.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Really?”

You nod. “We even adopted two daughters.”

“What were they like?” he wonders, enamored by some alternate universe of you two.

“I'm not sure; I didn't get to meet them,” you confess meekly. “But I know their names were Nanako and Mimiko, and they loved doing your hair and makeup. You adored them, and I'm sure I adored them too.”

He nods wistfully. “In your universe, were... were we together?”

“For a bit.” You look away sadly. “We broke up when you, uh, went off and wanted to-“

“Change jujutsu society,” he chimes in.

“Yeah... How'd you-“

“Same thing here, just roles reversed, remember?” He laughs sadly.

You nod. “Did you still love me? even after I'd gone off and did what I did?”

“I did. I do,” he quickly corrects himself. “Did you?”

“I still do.”

The two of you sit looking away from each other in glum silence. It's hard to stay upbeat about your happy alternate selves when your actual selves are currently dying or dead.

“Kinda feels like we got the short end of the stick, don't you think?” Getou mumbles softly.

“Huh?”

“Well, I mean, there are no curses in those universes, and we’re both alive and happy, but in ours we’re dead?” he elaborates.

You nod reluctantly. “Well yeah, but I don't know; I guess it's kinda nice to know that it worked out in at least one universe.”

“Don't you wish it worked out in ours?”

“Of course I do, Getou; what kind of question is that?" you scoff. "You think I want to go back to my universe just to watch you die?”

“Well,” Getou pauses, turning to face you, “what if you don't go back?”

Your gaze zeroes in on his. “What?”

“What if you stay?…”

You abruptly stand up and chuckle uncomfortably. “Getou-“ your sentence is cut short by an echo of your name that only you seem to hear because you're the only one gazing in the general direction it seemed like it came from.

Getou joins you on your feet and follows your stare, but when he realizes you aren't staring at anything, he returns his sight to you.

“Think about it.”

His voice snaps you out of your trance, and you look back at him with a small frown.

“I'm practically dead in your universe, and you're dead in mine, but we’re together right now!" he says, taking your hand in his. "Maybe the universe put you into mine for a reason— so we don't have to go back to one where we’re not together…”

You struggle to swallow; your mouth suddenly goes dry as Getou stares at you in full, unadulterated hope, and you can't bring yourself to say anything to crush that.

“Y/N, wouldn't that be nice?”

You nod and murmur, “It would.”

“Then?” he asks expectantly.

Someone calling out your name echoes in your head again, and you quickly look down the street to now see a small, bright light in the distance, and you know your time here is soon coming to an end.

“I... I can't stay, Getou.”

His voice cracks as he panickedly asks, “Why?”

"Because,” you explain with a shake of your head, “I'm not your Y/N, and you're not my Getou.”

“I could be,” he says confidently, or he would have if it weren't for the way his voice trembled.

Your vision goes blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes as you shake your head.

“We could try!”

You sniffle and reiterate, “I can't stay.”

“Please,” he begs through his sobs. “Please, we can make it work.”

You look away from him, trying to fight back your tears, but it's futile; you’re a complete mess, just like he is now. “No.”

His hands shake as he grips your face and forces you to look at him. “Y/N, please, I'm begging you.”

“I cant.”

“Don't leave me again.”

The same voice calling out your name echoes in your head again, this time louder, and the bright light is getting bigger and closer.

“I don't want to go back to a universe where you’re just gonna leave me either, but,” you sob, weakly clinging onto the wrists of his hands that are still on your face.

“So stay.”

You shake your head and take his hands off your face. “I won't.”

Getou’s head goes limp and drops as sobs shake his entire body, and you can't help but think that's exactly how you'll look when you return to your universe and have to deal with the death of your Getou.

“Please,” he pleads.

You're both in tears as you lift his head up by his chin to look at you. The voice calling your name echoes even louder, and the bright light is getting closer by the second.

“You’re not my Getou, and I'm not your Y/N.”

He nods reluctantly. “I know, but...“

The bright light is only a few feet away at this point, and the voice echoing in your head is so loud that it's giving you a migraine—you know this is your last few minutes, if that, in this universe, so you lean in and take Getou’s lips into yours—a goodbye kiss for a Getou who you'll never see again, a goodbye kiss for a Getou who desperately needs one when he never got one from his y/n. You pull away and cradle his cheek gently.

“I have to go say goodbye to my Getou now; I think he’s waiting for me.”

He nods. “If he’s anything like me, he’ll want a goodbye kiss too.”

A faint smile tugs at your lips. “I know.”

Getou doesn't get the chance to respond when you're suddenly gone—completely vanished right before his eyes.

You, on the other hand, are back again, feeling unstable as you float through time and space, and again, the uncertainity of the feeling forces your eyes open, but this time you're met with only one thing—the image of you on your Getou’s chest. With every passing second, it grows closer, as does his voice calling out for you, and before you know it, you're back in your body, looking up at him with a gasp.

“Y/N?” he asks weakly.

You're still in tears from the previous universe as you now pull him into your embrace.

He winces, and you quickly let go of him. “Sorry.”

He smiles at you with blood in his mouth and teeth. “It's okay.”

You have to force yourself to look away to try and choke back a sob, but Getou notices immediately and slowly lifts up his remaining hand to cradle your cheek.

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

You nod. “I know.”

“You’ll be okay.”

“I know,” you croak out.

“Kiss me?” He asks out of breath, knowing he doesn't have much longer.

You don't hesitate to lean in and kiss him, ignoring how it tastes like blood and tears as well as how cold his lips feel. You ignore it because he's kissing you back. He’s kissing you with all the power his frail body can muster, and it makes up for all the years, months, weeks, days, minutes, and seconds that your lips haven’t touched. But just as quickly as he kisses you, he stops, but it's gradual; he gradually stops kissing, moving, and breathing. It doesn't take long for it to get to that point, and even when he's not kissing back, you still kiss him with some fairy-tale hope that it will bring him back, that your kiss will somehow save him, like he's Snow White and you're Prince Charming. But it doesn't.

It doesnt.

You pull away to look at Getou, whose eyes are glazed over but not closed. You sob as you reach up to close his eyes, only to let your head fall against his chest. He’s so cold. Too cold. That's why you have to stay there on top of him to keep him warm. You'll stay there all night if you have to. But you don't even get the chance to stay there for longer than a few minutes when someone suddenly pulls you off of him, and you look over your shoulder to see Gojo, who's crying as well.

“He’s gone, Y/N.”

"I know," you sniffle, “I know.”

Gojo helps you up to your feet, his hand on your waist to keep you steady as he leads you away from Getou’s body. The further you get from it, the harder you cry.

But it's okay. It’ll be okay because, even though you lost Getou in this universe, you’ll eventually be able to come to peace with it knowing that in a hundred, a thousand, and even a million other universes, you and Getou are living happily ever after.

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