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farity · 1 year ago

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Obsession, part 20

Six Months Later

"Five? Are you insane?"

Aemond wasn't budging. "I can make it six."

His wife stood with her hands on her hips. "I am not going shopping with five guys surrounding me."

"Okay."

"Aemond!"

He walked around his desk, ran a hand down her arm. "Look. I am not letting anything happen to you and our baby. I can go with you if you wish."

She grabbed his hands. "Just you?"

"No. Five guards and me."

"How the hell is that less insane?"

He brought her hand to his lips, kissed it. "How about this? I will ask them to close the store for an hour so you can shop and I will only send four guards with you."

She hung her head and sighed. "Fine. Fine. I just wanted to shop for baby clothes."

Aemond's phone buzzed but he ignored it, cradling her face in his hands. "All I want to do is keep you both safe. I will tear apart anyone who tries to harm you, but I'd rather it not get to that."

She nodded quietly. "I know. And I love you for it. I just wanted to look at baby stuff like everyone else."

"I can make it happen, you won't know the men are there."

* * * * *

You invited Alicent to go along with you. Helaena was in Winterfell but she'd be back when the baby was born, and in any case, as much as she still made you wary, Alicent was your baby's grandmother, and she'd seemed delighted when you asked her to go with you.

"This is very sweet," she mused, holding up a little pajama set in the softest cream knit fabric.

"That is very cute," you agreed, letting her add the little jammies to the basket she held. She headed to the counter and you heard her asking if they could source the same but in green.

In the end, you spent more money on the baby than you had ever spent shopping for yourself - well, before your days included charity events and fancy dinners - and Alicent had asked that they hold a few items back so they could be monogrammed after the baby's birth.

At lunch, she told you how clueless she'd been with her own babies at first. She had been a very young mother and had no idea what she was doing.

"They turned out well in the end," you smiled. "They're all great human beings."

"I am very proud of them," she agreed, "and I know-"

Suddenly an explosion rocked somewhere a block away, and Alicent immediately stood to shield you as two of Aemond's men appeared and escorted you to the car.

"Do we know what is going on?" Alicent asked while you concentrated on keeping your breathing steady and getting the seat belt over your bump.

"We'd heard rumblings from Pentos, but we don't know for sure."

You looked at Alicent, "who's in Pentos?"

Alicent shook her head, exasperated. "Viserys's brother, Daemon. He surfaces every once in a while, trying to make trouble."

"The one who married Rhaenyra?"

Leaning in, Alicent smirked. "The one who cheats on Rhaenyra."

"Oh."

"I heard she'd thrown him out for good a couple of days ago. He's probably drunk and angry and decided to blow something up."

"Will he attack the family?"

Alicent considered this, "no, he just likes making trouble. We'll retaliate and he'll sink back into whatever hellhole he's living in now."

Back home, Aemond was waiting for you at the main gate. "Are you okay? The doctor is on her way."

You raised your eyebrows at him. "I'm fine, Aemond, I don't think I really need the doctor." But you didn't protest any further, because as you well knew, your husband would not be happy until you were checked over.

* * * * *

When the doctor walked in, you had been taken down to the medical wing, mostly used for Alicent's skin treatments.

"Thank you for coming in such short notice," Aemond said, shaking her hand. She looked at you and smiled.

"Not a problem, I'm close by."

"Hello, Dr. Alysanne," you smiled back. She was a distant cousin of the Targaryens and a world-renowned specialist in obstetrics, and you'd felt comfortable with her since your first appointment.

Alysanne walked around the hospital bed. "I hear you had an exciting lunch date."

You related the events while she took your vitals and then started the ultrasound machine. Aemond stood on the other side of the bed, holding your hand while the doctor spread gel over your belly and began running the wand over.

"Everything looks good, baby's active, oh," she turned to look at both of you, "last time baby was being shy and we couldn't find out the sex. Would you like to know?"

You turned to Aemond, and nodded. "Yes, please."

"What is my beautiful wife having, doctor?"

* * * * *

"Are you happy, my love?"

You were in Aemond's arms later that evening, after sharing the news of the baby's sex and the name you had chosen with the family, you had retreated to your home, where Aemond had slowly peeled off your clothes and kissed every inch of you. He'd needed to have you, despite knowing you were well, and that the pregnancy was going as it should.

After, you'd turned onto your side, letting him run his hand over your belly. The baby kicked as Aemond gently caressed your skin.

"Yes," you said, "very happy. I have you. I have our baby, it is more than I ever thought I would have."

He raised your face to his. "It is more than I ever thought I would have." He placed a gentle kiss on your lips. "You are more than I ever thought I would have."

You smiled, "well, I'm becoming more and more every day with this baby."

"You are a goddess," he replied, "you are radiant, glowing, sexy." He nuzzled your cheek, inhaling the scent of your skin. "I can't keep my hands off you."

He was right. He'd always had a high sex drive, but since you began to show, he had to be touching you at all times. Whether it was a quick grab of your ass, an afternoon spent in bed, or simply holding you on the sofa, he was always there. You felt cherished and safe, more than ever.

Aemond pulled your leg across his stomach so that you straddled him. He reached up to touch your breasts as you sank onto him and you gasped at how sensitive your skin was. He kept his touch light and gentle, and you began to roll your hips.

"Tell me if I hurt you," he murmured, fingers skimming along the curves of your breasts. They were fuller and rounder, and Aemond loved taking his time with them.

"You never do," you said, sighing as he brushed his thumb over your nipple. It was like lightning, the way the pleasure spread to the spot between your legs, and you moaned as he continued lavishing attention on your nipples.

He squeezed your breasts gently and your hips started moving faster. "That's it," he whispered, "so fucking good."

You grabbed onto his hands as you felt your release starting, letting your head fall back as you came. You felt him thrust up against you as the lashings of pleasure took you, felt him come inside you and fall apart underneath you.

* * * * *

"Hey, it's the Starks!" Aegon called out to his sister as she and Cregan walked in to the main house. "Oh."

A petite brunette walked in behind Cregan. "This is my sister Lyanne, she's on her way to Highgarden but I wanted her to meet you all." He smiled easily at her, and Aegon could see the similarities - the same grey eyes, the dark wavy hair.

"Ah, welcome," he said, walking toward the brunette, "I'm Aegon."

"Lyanne. You have a beautiful home."

He vaguely heard his sister and her husband walking to his mother, but could only stare at Lyanne. "You're beautiful," he blurted out, and immediately berated himself. "Sorry, I'm just, uh, welcome. I'm Aegon."

Lyanne smiled at him, "it is very nice to meet you, Aegon. I adore your sister."

Aegon simply stared at her until he heard his mother's voice.

"Stop monopolizing the girl, come on over here!"

"Sorry," he said, and offered her his arm, "mother wants to meet you. She's not as scary as you may have heard."

Lyanne laughed, a soft, musical sound that had him smiling in response. "We Starks don't frighten easily," she whispered, her eyes dropping to his mouth.

Alicent started speaking to Lyanne while he, Aegon Targaryen, who had bedded many a beauty, was left speechless. She was hardly dressed for seduction, her jeans and high necked shirt more practical than alluring, her well worn boots more suited to the countryside than the city. And still he couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

When Aemond and his wife arrived, there were more introductions, and as glad as he was to be around his family, Aegon wanted nothing more than to have Lyanne Stark all to himself.

She was going to Highgarden, Cregan had said, and he texted Aemond across the dinner table.

"Aegon, you know I don't like that during family dinners."

"Mother, this is of utmost importance," he said, very seriously.

* * * * *

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Milena Tyrell."

Aemond rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Aegon, you don't even know-"

The call connected, and Aegon signaled his brother to be quiet. Aemond listened while his brother asked, cajoled, and then threatened, until he got his way.

"Aegon, if I'd known what you were going to do-"

"You don't need to know what I am going to do, brother, you were asked to procure information and you did. Now, I believe we should join the conversation."

Aegon left his office, not giving Aemond a chance to interject. Not that Aegon would listen, Aemond thought.

While he sat next to his wife and listened as Helaena told them all about her new dog at Winterfell, he caught his mother staring somewhere behind him, and when he turned, he caught Aegon taking Lyanne Stark to the gardens in the back.

He turned back to find Alicent raising an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged almost imperceptibly.

"I've named her Dreamfyre, and she was so little just a couple of weeks ago, but they grow to be the size of wolves."

"Mine is Darkfyre," Cregan added, "they're such loyal animals, steady and protective. We've always had them in our family."

"Have you guys finished the nursery?" Helaena asked.

You laughed, " 'we' didn't really do anything. Alicent had a designer come in and she asked some questions about what we liked, and it's all done and ready."

"She is the best in Westeros," Alicent chimed in. "She doesn't take many clients, but of course she will work for us whenever we need."

"Do you want to go see it?" you asked, and Helaena jumped up.

"Hell yes!"

* * * * *

Three months later

"Is there anything else I can get you?"

You smiled sleepily at your husband. "I have everything I need right here." You looked down at your son as he fed at your breast. The first few days had been rough because of the c-section and because the baby wouldn't latch properly, so Dr Alysanne had brought in a lactation consultant who had worked with you both until things finally clicked and he began feeding in earnest.

Aemond had paid the consultant to stay in the estate for a couple of weeks, just in case, and there was a rotation of three nurses that worked eight hour shifts to help with the baby.

"I'll burp him," Aemond said, taking his son in his arms with practiced ease. He laid the cloth on his shoulder and then began patting the baby's back. "Come on, Aerys," he cooed, "can't keep those bubbles in your belly."

"May I?"

The night nurse knocked gently, peering in.

You nodded, and she helped you up and went to the bathroom with you. Being in labor for hours had drained your strength, and in the end, surgery had been needed for Aerys to be born. but you were starting to feel like yourself again.

Your surgery site was healing fine, the nurse said, and she helped you back to the bed, tucking you in and making sure you had everything you needed.

"Would you like me to take him, sir?"

"No, I got him, thank you," Aemond said, "he's ready to settle down."

"Very good, sir, I'll be next door."

You hadn't expected Aemond to be so hands-on with your baby. He had no experience caring for children, but with Aerys, he'd asked the nurses a thousand questions, watched everything they did, and then jumped in to care for his son while you recovered.

Helaena and Cregan were staying in the main house, and the new aunt was delighted with her new nephew. She had made several drawings of animals for him, and had cried with happiness when she saw that all the drawings were framed, filling one of the nursery walls.

Aegon had married Lyanne, with Cregan's approval, a month after they met, after her arranged marriage with Willas Tyrell was broken off by Milena. Lyanne, who was usually steadfast and sensible, had told her brother that Aegon was the one and either she married him or she married no one.

Daeron said he wanted to post photos of himself holding his nephew because "chicks like it," and Aemond had told him that his son would never be used as bait, but it was Daeron who had stayed up all night with Aemond as he cared for Aerys those first few days. Aemond had found a new maturity in his younger brother, and Daeron had expressed his desire to start working for the family soon.

Alicent delighted in her new status as grandmother, stopping by in the mornings to check on Aemond and his family. "You chose well, my son," she said one morning as she rocked baby Aerys after he'd been fed and burped. "She makes you happy."

"She does. I'm very happy, mother."

"I am glad to hear it, Aemond. You deserve every joy."

Aemond sat on the rocking chair, gently bouncing his son while his wife slept. He couldn't have envisioned this moment. Every hurt, every loss, every moment of grief he had experienced, he supposed it had all led to this. And he wouldn't change a thing.

THE END

* * * * *

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rationaliity · 7 months ago

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OC — CALICO

Calico and Tabby ★★★★★

Preservation — Physical Faction : Planetary Protection Division Obtained On : 20XX-XX-XX Character Introduction : Two sisters working with the IPC; they’re always close to each other, never straying apart for long. Two bright, eccentric personalities, one girl dances around telling her exact feelings, while the other tells it as it is without hesitation.

Character Story I : ( Unlocked at Character Level 20 )

XX-XX-XXXX : patient has not woken up from her state of comatose since we found her on the dead planet. eye witnesses say she was awake when they found her, but she passed out from exhaustion soon after. we have reason to suspect she dropped her survival instincts, and her body’s exhaustion caught up to her. we don’t know when she’ll wake up, if she even will, but we are doing tests around the clock to check on the long-term affects of being on a dead planet long after a stellaron crisis. some of her wounds are scarred over so many times we cannot get a date on how long she’s been there, but documents have proof that the stellaron burst on the planet that caused the explosion happened at least two hundred years ago.

—

XX-XX-XXXX : we found… anomalies within her body while she has been out. the majority of her body’s muscles are comprised of scar tissues deep within the layer of her skin, and she is missing.. her entire uterus, with serious scarring all around that area. we have ideas of what happened, but none of us are willing to voice our concerns because all of our ideas are graphic and terrifying to think about. she still has not woken up, and we are beginning to suspect there are serious injuries inside of her brain as well. perhaps a lack of proper food and sleep have diminished her cognitive abilities, or at the very least, could explain why she is in a coma currently. until we have more information, we do not know what happened to her on that planet. regardless, we’re all in an agreement: whatever she went through, it was hell on earth. i believe an easier fate for her would have been death.

Character Story II : ( Unlocked at Character Level 40 )

XX-XX-XXXX : she has woken up, and seemed a lot calmer talking with us than we initially expected. furthermore, we’ve come to a shocking revelation: she has no memory of her time on that planet after the stellaron explosion. she can only recall her name, calico, and an overwhelming desire to find someone she knew from the planet before the explosion. we have reason to believe that it’s because of the damage to her brain we found during a brain scan, but we’re doing whatever we can to attempt to restore her memories. we have a renowned doctor from the intelligentsia guild is here to study her case, although he refuses to talk with the subject face to face. perhaps he finds her less than ? he’s adamant about the subject remaining unaware of his work here.

—

XX-XX-XXXX : a week after she woke up, calico was trying to stand and broke her femur practically in two. her body is so weak right now that she’s struggling to move, but she refuses to give up and continues to push herself. however, when the doctor tried to help her, she insisted that she was okay, even daring to stand up on her own two feet. doctors everywhere were stunned, even i can hardly believe it. after running some tests, we’ve discovered that the nerve endings in her entire body are not working properly, and her brain no longer sends signals to signify pain. she cuts out the majority of pain from her cognition unless its something detrimental. this is… not a wholesome update to her case. we are worried that she may not ever progress as a normal person again.

Character Story III : ( Unlocked at Character Level 60 )

XX-XX-XXXX : i’ve been.. staying at this hospital for a long time now. doctors walk by and shoot me a look of pity, as if i’m a failed experiment. a lab rat gone wrong. but i won’t give up hope. no matter how much they poke and prod at me, i know.. i know i will get out of here. alive, hopefully. i’ve been regaining my strength, and my stomach can now handle most foods, even if i have to eat in small bursts. apparently, starving does numbers on your ability to eat. i want to get out of his hospital, and make a name for myself out here. perhaps i could join the interastral peace corporation myself. i mean, they were the ones who saved my life, i kind of owe it to them, don’t i ? besides, i've heard talk that they'll wring usefulness out of anything, so saving my life did not come for free, i'm sure. so many people came to help me, including very important people, so i’ve heard, i feel as though i wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the doctors that helped me along the way. i just wonder what i can do, what i bring to the table.. but sitting here beating myself up over my uselessness isn’t going to change anything.

i want to get out of this place, yes. but i think what i want more is to have a normal body, a normal life. i cannot.. no, i won't live like this, unable to find my own path. i'm better than this, i think. i want to be better than this, at least. i've been studying cellular regeneration, and i think i figure it out. i mean, i'm just sitting in a lab every day. i've got the time to figure it out.

Character Story IV : ( Unlocks at Character Level 80 )

XX-XX-XXXX : and here i was, under the impression that your first week alive wouldn't be a hard one ! i've been tested and tested over a million different times, and i still have no idea why at this point. we know what happened, we know why i'm here. she copied her dna and tried to replicate it, but before the cells got swapped over, something went wrong. the experiment didn't stop at just copying her damaged cells, it created all of her cells, which made meeee ! i don't understand why we need to do so many tests. apparently, there's even an important guy from the ipc here to do some tests, but i haven't seen him yet. she likes to avoid him as much as possible, i wonder why. is she nervous ? no. she's not the nervous type. maybe she just doesn't know how to approach him. she's silly like that.

i like her. and i like him too. but, obviously i do. i'm her, everything about me is just her copied over. well, everything is just her except my conversational skills, of course. while we were talking to someone, she was getting uncomfortable, and i could tell that she didn't like this guy very much. so i told him to stop talking to us and that he was making her feel bad. and what did she say to me ? she said " tabby, you can't just say that to people, that makes them feel bad. " but i don't get that line of reasoning. why should she feel bad and not other people ? what's the point of not saying what you mean ?

GALLERY > VOICELINES > LIGHTCONE

#honkai star rail #hsr fanfic #hsr oc #oc #original character #dr. ratio x oc #canon x oc #honkai starrail oc #calico #honkai star rail calico

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wandaluvstacos · 2 months ago

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SEASON OF BLOSSOMS

CHAPTER SEVEN IS UP! ($5 TIER)

Genre: Fantasy Romance Rating: 18+ Elevator Pitch: Bridgerton, but gay and with tieflings. Check out this story’s art under the tag Season of Blossoms

Includes: Mxm, mxf, and nbxm romance, sibling rivalries, romantic drama, fun sexy hijinks all around. This one’s lighter than most of the stuff I write, lol. There is a scene that takes place after an attempted suicide, but I think that’s the only thing that needs to be warned for.

In the nation of Tithly, it is custom that those of marriageable age travel to the city of Philsia for the yearly Season of Blossoms– four summer months of parties meant to provide youth the opportunity to find their spouse. This year will be the first year that all three of the Tsylgahra siblings attend: Mithleem, Anli, and Lisanth.

Three years after his wife’s tragic death, Mithleem has finally decided that he’s ready to start his search for someone new. As one of the top people in his class at the Academy and a successful doctor during his time in the army, he’s a household name and a hot commodity at parties, including one thrown by Tithly’s most renowned painter. There Mithleem is called to the bedside of the painter’s equally famous spouse, Ysaika Talorilau, and it may take someone of Mithleem’s skill to save their life.

Anli’s been to Philsia three times for the Season, but she hasn’t had much luck. This time she meets a young man above her station who shows interest, and despite her misgivings, she’s willing to give him a shot, even if the family’s new steward, Thyla Daschanhildi is quite insistent that Anli deserves better. Anli’s not sure about that, but she knows that Thyla’s only ever been supportive and loyal, sometimes to such a degree that Anli wonders if there’s more to it.

As the youngest Tsylgahra and wild child of the family, Lisanth is interested in racing horses, starting squabbles in the local tavern, and worrying his parents on the nights he doesn’t come home. However, he knows he can’t put off Philsia forever, and at the insistence of his mother, Lisanth grudgingly makes the journey with his siblings to the City in the Sky. There he meets a stranger who wields charm with just a hint of danger. Only later does Lisanth come to realize that the stranger is in fact a prince– Prince Jafkar A’nesh to be exact.

EXCERPT:

“Mithleem Tsylgahra, was it?” Mithleem turned and saw the lilac-skinned girl suddenly at his side, dressed in a dark purple damask dress with gauzy sleeves that drooped over her shoulders, leaving a lot of bare skin from chin to bust. “Ah, yes,” Mithleem said, smiling to the best of his ability. “I don’t know why the name strikes me as familiar… Where are you from?” “Aspith.” “And where is that?” “On the continent, around the western plains. A cute little village surrounded by farms.” “How quaint.” She smiled. “Would you like to dance?” “Dance? Oh. Of course!” Mithleem finished off the rest of his wine—the glasses were really not that large—and placed it back on the table. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a bit clueless. This is my first Season.” He paused, catching Anli out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, wait! I need to get water for my sister. One second.” Mithleem grabbed a glass of water and rushed across the room to deposit it in his sister’s hand. “I’m going to go dance with that lady, so have fun without me.” “What lady? Her?” Anli pointed at Mithleem’s dance partner. “Do you know who that is? That’s Utha Granking, daughter of Citel Granking.” “I don’t know who that is.” Anli frowned with frustration. “They own nearly half an entire island in Philsia!”“Oh.” Mithleem paused to consider. “Good to know. I’m going to dance now.” Before Anli could protest, Mithleem was off, returning to Utha’s side to offer his elbow. They returned to the first room, and when a quartet began a new song, Mithleem took Utha’s hand in his. Together they moved in a side circle, and Mithleem had to admit Utha moved with a confidence that spoke of experience at such events as these. Mithleem wasn’t one to be struck dumb by a pretty woman, but he had to admit, he could have done much worse. “So this is your first Season?” Utha asked. “I’ve had one before, but many years ago.” Utha’s brow pinched. “How many years? You do not look a day past twenty-five.” “I am thirty, in fact. So that was perhaps eight or seven years ago, I believe. Is this your first Season?” “Oh yes. I’m nineteen.” Mithleem nearly dragged them to a halt on the dance floor but managed to keep his composure. Nineteen. Spirits, a child. “Ah. You seem quite sure of yourself for someone so young.”

#Season of Blossoms #update #excerpt #patreon #my writing #tiefling romance #original fiction

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walpu · 7 months ago

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is it okay if i talk about my oc a little bit 👉👈

her name is calico !! she works for the planetary protection division, a delegate of the ipc under the watchful gaze of qlipoth the preservation. basically what she does is she travels to planets that have gone through a crisis of some kind, usually a stellaron burst or some other world-ending phenomena, and offers her aid in rebuilding the worlds to ensure that they can overcome the crisis, usually by offering the aid of the ipc in one way or another. shes a good problem solver in terms of survival ( its because of trauma teehee )

when she was a kid she resided on a planet called kitsumiko-iv, her home planet, when a stellaron burst onto the surface of her planet, imploding from a reaction and destroying about 90% of the planet. calico was in a plane above ground before the explosion, and when it happened, her plane went down. she was the only passenger on the plane that survived. there may have been more survivors on the planet, but she couldn't find any. the ipc saw the explosion happen and considered her planet a dead planet, with no survivors, leaving calico alone for a really long time on the dying soil of her home.

her people are a long-life species, so calico was on that planet for nearly 200 years after the stellaron explosion before the ipc had made a pitstop on the planet to see if they could source out fine materials, and they accidentally stumbled across her, half dead but still kicking. immediately upon seeing other people, she completely passed out, all of the strength in her body evaporating. she was in a coma for nearly 2 years after they found her, with even the most renowned doctors ( ,,,,,,,, we know a doctor in the ipc ) trying to at least understand the reason of her survival, because it made no sense. she had virtually no food or safety, there were fragmentum monsters from the stellaron explosion all over the planet, x-rays showed that most of the muscle underneath of her flesh was just scar tissue, and she was in general a very bad state, her brain in constant survival mode.

when she woke up, after some tests, they found out that calico felt virtually no type of pain unless it passed a certain threshold, her nervous system basically shutting down because of all of the pain she went through for 200 years. while she was recovering, because she couldn't feel her body, she tended to push herself too far, even breaking one of her very fragile bones while she was trying to deliver some documents to a doctor, just trying to help out around the hospital, and all she had to say was that it was an annoyance that they were telling her that she had to rest.

years later, she made the best recovery that she could, although it wasn't perfect. now, she's under the protection of the ipc, bound by a contract because they had saved her life. she's got a really close relationship with topaz, often sending her pictures of cute, fluffy things on the planets that they travel on, while she harbors a deep respect and admiration for a certain blue-haired doctor that tried to help save her life within the intelligentsia guild, a faction that she often finds herself working with. disseminating knowledge is crucial to aiding people with their crises, no ? after all, now they'd have the knowledge to deal with another crisis should it come to that, and they wouldn't need her to check up on them again.

i feel like she would get along really well with the nameless, because their jobs overlap a little bit. where there's trouble, there's usually calico trying to solve the puzzles behind it.

in conclusion, shes my little squishy and I love her and need to share her with the world. ( I have SO much art I've done of her and ratio its a problem ) - miya <3

I LOVE HER WE NEED MORE RATIO KISSERS

#the ipc when they see another traumatized person: how can we make more profit out of it :)#calico

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lostfracturess · 10 months ago

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symptoms and causes | ch. 04

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

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

ღ wc 7.9 k

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

ღ author's note has anyone asked for a bit of angst? dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world ♡

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It had been a week since you had your unconventional date with Gojo. You were back in practical class, relieved that it didn't involve drawing blood like the last time.

Yuta surely was thankful for that.

Doctor Kento was demonstrating how to perform various types of stitches. You paid close attention, even though you knew most of the stitches by heart. When it was time for the students to try, you picked up the needle and thread, grabbed an orange and began to stitch.

You never learned to suture on fruit before, but it must be easier than working on actual human skin, right?

"Bet I can finish my stitches before all of you," Yuta chimed in, a grin spreading across his face as he expertly threaded his needle.

Maki glanced at him. "You're on, Okkotsu. But don't come crying to me when I beat you."

The two worked with newfound speed, their needles weaving through the orange peel. Yuta finished his line first. "See, what did I tell you?" he said with a smile.

Maki leaned closer to inspect his stitching. "Not bad," she admitted. "But check out your spacing here, Yuta. It's a bit off."

Yuta squinted at his work. "Ah, you're right. Gotta work on that."

"And... done!" you said, holding up your perfectly sutured orange.

Yuta turned to look at your work. "Wow, that's some neat stitching. Makes mine look like child's play."

"Impressive," Toge said.

Maki paused her stitching to glance at your handiwork. "Seriously impressive," she commented. "How'd you get so good?"

You smiled. "I had to learn a few things on my own before university," you explained. "And I guess some practice outside of class helped too."

As you finished your set of stitches, doctor Kento came over to inspect your work. His eyebrows raised as he examined the neat line of sutures. "Excellent work," he said. "And I thought you were a failure in practical class, after the mess you made with the blood withdrawal."

Ouch.

Why was he always so direct.

You and your friends were fully engaged in the session, focused on perfecting your suturing techniques. Suddenly, the door opened and professor Gojo entered. He moved towards Kento's desk, as if to retrieve something.

Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Gojo's gaze found you across the room. His eyes met yours, and a small smile appeared on his lips. You watched him as he walked over to Kento.

Maki leaned closer to you. "Oh, look, Dr. Handsome graces us with his presence," she said. "Isn't it strange how often he shows up around you?"

"Only strange coincidences," you replied, but Maki's raised eyebrow told you she wasn't entirely convinced.

Gojo finished his brief conversation with Kento and made his way over to your group. The others paused, needles in mid-air, as he approached.

"Hello there." His gaze swept over the group and then rested on you. "I see you're all making good progress with your suturing."

Yuta leaned back in his chair. "We're doing our best, professor. But she over here is putting us all to shame," he said, nodding towards you.

Gojo's smile broadened. "Is that so?"

He walked over to you, a bit too close for the classroom setting. He picked up one of your stitched oranges, turning it over in his hands. "Impressive precision."

"But perhaps a bit basic for your skill level," he added, his eyes meeting yours briefly before he picked up another orange from the table. He pulled a chair up to your table, sitting down close enough that his knee brushed against yours under the table.

"Have you ever tried a subcuticular suture?"

"No, I haven't."

Gojo grabbed an unused needle and thread. "Let me show you."

Your friends gathered around, watching as Gojo skillfully maneuvered the needle through the orange peel. "Subcuticular suturing is an intradermal suture that minimizes scarring. You need a steady hand and some patience to do it."

The needle dipped in and out of the orange peel, leaving a nearly invisible line on the surface. "The key is consistent tension," he explained. "Imagine you're weaving, each pass of the needle equidistant to the last, and the thread tension must be just enough to approximate the edges without puckering the tissue."

Once finished, he held up the orange for everyone to see. "See?"

He tossed another orange towards you. Your caught it just in time. "Your turn," he said.

Gojo leaned further towards you, his leg touching yours under the table. Then you felt a hand resting on your thigh. You jumped slightly and immediately kicked him with your foot under the table.

God, Gojo, keep it professional, at least in class.

He received the message and gave you a quick, sly smile that you hoped would go unnoticed by your friends.

With Gojo still watching closely, you began to work on the orange, trying to mirror the technique he had just demonstrated. The stitch was more complex than you were used to. And it didn't help that Gojo was so close.

"Angle the needle a bit more... that's it. Now, even tension as you pull through," he said. You were acutely aware of every comment, every slight touch as he pointed out adjustments.

When you finished, Gojo examined your work, his fingers brushing lightly against your hands as he reached for the orange. "Well done," he said. "You're a quick learner. Or perhaps I'm just a good teacher?"

Sure.

At that moment, Kento approached your table, his gaze lingering on the two of you for a brief second. "Taking over my class, Gojo?"

Gojo straightened, turning to face Kento with a relaxed posture. "Not in the slightest, Kento," he replied. "Only sharing a new technique with the students."

"Well, ensure it doesn't become a regular occurrence," he said. "Managing these students is challenging enough. I don't need any additional burdens."

"Understood, Kento," Gojo said, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I'll leave the teaching to the experts, then."

He turned his attention back to you and your friends. "Keep practicing, students," he said, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. As Gojo moved to leave the classroom, he cast one last glance in your direction, his smile lingering.

After he left, Maki leaned closer to you, a suspicious look in her eyes. "You know, he looks at you a bit too long to be just your research partner," she observed in a low voice.

Your stomach fluttered. "Does he?"

Maki leaned back, her eyes studying you closely. "Yeah, It's pretty obvious."

You hesitated, searching for the right words. "We've just gotten to know each other better recently. That's all."

"Uh huh," Maki replied. "Just be careful, okay? He's your professor, after all."

The conversation came to an abrupt halt as Kento redirected the class's attention to the front.

─── ·✧· ───

Later that day, the campus was bathed in warm sunlight, the air filled with the chatter and laughter of students enjoying a break between classes. You were sprawled out on a blanket in the grass with your friends, Toge, Maki, and Yuta, basking in the pleasant warmth of the early afternoon sun.

The breeze, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, rustled through the leaves of the trees. Birds high above scurried and chirped. The world seemed to slow down for a moment, allowing you all to enjoy this brief respite from the university's hustle.

As you lay there, soaking up the sun, your phone buzzed with a new message. Glancing at the screen, you saw Gojo's name. Your stomach fluttered. You sat up, shielding your phone from the sunlight to read the message.

[3:12 PM] Gojo: Why aren't you here?

[3:12 PM] You: Where?

[3:12 PM] Gojo: With me.

[3:13 PM] You: Just done with class.

[3:13 PM] Gojo: Done with class, but not with me. How about we change that?

[3:14 PM] You: Is that an invitation or a challenge?

[3:14 PM] Gojo: Consider it both. I'm at the cafe, and it's missing your presence.

[3:15 PM] You: How tragic. Perhaps, I could be persuaded to change scenery.

[3:15 PM] Gojo: I'm sure I can provide a few persuasive arguments.

[3:16 PM] You: Such as?

[3:16 PM] Gojo: The best coffee on campus, for starters. And, of course, the pleasure of my company.

[3:17 PM] You: Tempting, professor.

[3:17 PM] Gojo: I aim to convince. Join me, and let's see if I can sway your decision further.

[3:18 PM] You: Give me 5 minutes.

[3:18 PM] Gojo: I'll be waiting, first-year.

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. Slipping your phone into your pocket, you turned to your friends. "I've got to step out for a bit."

Maki raised an eyebrow. "Mysterious meeting with a certain professor?"

You laughed it off, feeling the warmth of a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Just a coffee break. Nothing to gossip about," you replied, gathering your things.

As you stood up, Maki gave you a knowing look, but she didn't press further. "See you later then," she said with a smile.

You made your way to the campus cafe. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the trees that lined the path, casting dappled shadows on the ground. As you approached, you spotted Gojo waiting outside, casually leaning against a wall. His eyes scanned the crowd until they settled on you.

A smile played on his lips as he pushed off the wall and strolled over to you. "I was starting to think you'd ditched me," he teased, his snow-white hair falling loosely across his forehead.

"Ditching my favorite professor? Never," you quipped back, falling into step beside him. Entering the campus cafe, you both queued up to grab coffees.

"So I'm your favorite, huh?" he said. "I'm flattered."

"Well, you do make things more interesting."

"Is that so?" He leaned in slightly closer. "I'm not just an interesting professor, you know."

"Oh?" you responded, your tone feigning innocence. "Pray, enlighten me, professor Gojo."

His lips curved into a sly smile. "Well, that's a conversation for a different setting."

"Such a tease, professor."

The barista called out for the next order. "An americano for me, and whatever she's having," he said to the woman behind the counter, already reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

"You know I can pay for myself."

He glanced at you. "I know, but I don't want you to."

After picking up your coffees, Gojo guided you through the campus towards its back garden. "Thought we could use a bit of privacy," he said. "Less chance of running into nosy students or colleagues."

As you followed him, the firm pavement turned into a lush, vibrant green carpet of grass and flowers. The garden was in full bloom, with knee-high blossoms exuding a sweet scent that wafted through the air.

Suddenly, he strayed off the path and into the grass. Without a word, he lay down, almost disappearing among the colorful blossoms. He lay on his back, arms folded behind his head, gazing up at the cerulean sky.

"You're really just going to lie down there?"

He looked up at you with a relaxed smile. "Why not? It's a beautiful day. Come, join me."

Hesitantly, you sat down beside him, tucking your legs to the side. The grass was soft and cool beneath you, and the floral scent enveloped you. Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the nearby trees, casting playful, dappled shadows across the two of you.

Your gaze flicked around the area, half-expecting someone to appear. "Aren't you worried about someone seeing us?"

He chuckled, his eyes still fixed on the sky. "There's no one around. And even if there was, we're just two people enjoying a beautiful day. Nothing wrong with that."

Yeah, nothing wrong with a young, stupidly attractive professor and one of his students lying on the grass together.

You watched him for a moment.

Gojo wore his usual white button-down shirt, which accentuated his well-built physique, the top few buttons casually undone. Dark designer sunglasses adorned the bridge of his nose. His sleek white hair was tousled by the gentle breeze that caressed the garden.

As he reclined amid the flourishing garden, the shifting patterns of light and shadow played a mesmerizing dance upon his skin. He seemed to savour every ray of sunlight that touched his skin. The corners of his lips curled upward.

"We have a potential case," he began, shifting to a more serious tone. "There's a patient who might be a perfect candidate for the neurotransplant procedure."

You glanced at his bandaged hand. "Are you sure you're ready for that? With your hand still healing?"

He lifted his hand, testing its movement as he flexed his fingers. "It's healing better than expected. It has to be okay," he said. "Besides, Principal Yaga is really breathing down both mine and Geto's necks about it. He wants to see results."

"And you're okay with that?"

"There's no other way."

You pondered for a second.

"The patient's young, only sixteen," he revealed.

"Sixteen? That's so young," you murmured.

"I know, but he's a perfect fit for this surgery. He wants this chance, and we owe it to him to give our best."

Your brows furrowed.

"I know you're worried," he began. "But trust me, we'll take every necessary precaution. And this time, we have the advantage of everything we've learned so far. We're in this together, and I'll be right there by your side every step of the way."

You smiled faintly.

Gojo propped himself up on one elbow to face you. "What happened to your fearless spirit? When we first met, you suggested an approach in surgery that even I hadn't considered. It was bold, a bit crazy even."

"It was a different situation. That patient was dead either way. So it didn't really matter".

He lay back down, gazing up at the sky. "Wow, how pragmatic of you."

"Aren't you scared? That we mess this up?"

"No, not really. I trust you."

You huffed. Yeah, if only you could have his confidence.

"Why does it always seem like you're so carefree?" you asked him.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Me, carefree? Not exactly. It's more that I've stopped giving a fuck about the small stuff. Stick around in research long enough, and you'll learn to do the same."

"Stopped giving a fuck, huh?" you mused, raising an eyebrow. "That's one way to live a careless life, I suppose."

"It's not about being careless. It's about choosing what deserves your energy and what doesn't."

"And what deserves the energy of one of the most famous neurosurgeons?"

His smile deepened. "Challenging surgeries, medical mysteries and, of course," he paused, " intriguing students who keep me on my toes."

Before you could react, Gojo grasped your shoulders in a swift, unexpected move and pushed you back down onto the grass. Suddenly, you were looking up at him, his face inches from yours, his eyes holding yours in a captivating gaze. Your heart raced.

"Are you insane? What if someone sees us like this?" Panic tinged your voice as you instinctively tried to push him away, but he remained steadfast.

Gojo's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Would it really be that bad?"

He was surely insane.

Yet, your breath caught in your throat as Gojo's eyes burned into yours. You could see the raw desire in his eyes, mirroring your own.

"You're always so tense, first-year," he teased. "Need someone to help you relax?"

"Gojo, we really shouldn't—," you tried to protest. But your body betrayed you, responding to his closeness. You felt your core heating up.

His lips grazed your earlobe, sending delightful shivers cascading down your spine. "Shouldn't what?" he whispered. "Have a little fun?"

Your heart raced as his lips traced a tantalizing path along your jawline, leaving a trail of heated anticipation in their wake. "Gojo," you breathed out, torn between desire and restraint.

Suddenly, Gojo's hand reached out, grasping your wrists that were still pushing against his chest. He pinned your hands above your head, pressing them into the lush grass.

He paused for a moment, his lips hovering just above yours. "Tell me to stop," he challenged softly.

You swallowed hard, acutely aware of his presence, his warm breath, and his other hand that found its way between your legs. "Gojo, seriously," you whispered. "We're in public."

Yet you couldn't stop yourself from letting your head fall back. Your back arched into him as his fingers traced a slow path along the inside of your leg. "Thrilling isn't it?" His lips moved ever so slightly against the curve of your neck. "Didn't hear the word 'stop' yet."

Yes.

Fuck.

Please stop.

Please be the reasonable one of you two.

Because you surely were not able to.

"Gojo, this is crazy." You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to still the rapid beating of your heart. "We can't... not here."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes still locked with yours. "Then tell me to stop."

You knew you should push him away, end this dangerous game before it went any further. But the desire to give in was overwhelming. His fingers continued their slow, deliberate path, now dangerously close to your core. "I'm waiting, first-year."

His touch ventured higher, feather-light yet electrifying, teasing over your most sensitive spot between your legs. A soft moan broke from your lips. Instantly, his hand clamped over your mouth.

"Shh, sweetheart," he cautioned, his breath hot against your lips. "What if someone hears us? We wouldn't want to get caught, now would we?"

With a sly smirk, Gojo pulled back, granting you a moment to catch your breath. He sat upright. "Seems I can't trust you to keep quiet."

Your heart raced as you watched him, unable to form a coherent response. Gojo had a way of leaving you breathless and wanting more, and you couldn't deny that you were drawn to the dangerous game he was playing.

Eventually, Gojo stood up, casually brushing off grass from his clothes. "Break's over," he said, glancing at his watch. "I've got a lecture in 15 minutes."

He extended a hand toward you, offering to help you up. You took his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Standing close, your eyes locked once more, though your gaze briefly dropped, noticing something.

"You can't go lecture like that."

Looking down, Gojo sighed. "Yeah, it always happens with you. Don't worry, I'll just remember your clumsy attempt to draw blood from Okkotsu's arm. That should take care of it."

Oh, how funny.

"By the way, we're starting the surgical practice again tomorrow, right after your last class," he added. "Wear something nice and easy to get rid of."

─── ·✧· ───

You pulled on your surgical gloves, positioning yourself in front of today's human brain test subject. The sun was beginning to set, casting a crimson glow through the windows and onto the sterile surfaces of the lab.

You went straight into action. You stabilized the tissue as Gojo proceeded to implant the neurotransplant into the cerebral cortex. You breathed slowly, trying to keep your hands as still as possible.

You and Gojo worked together in silence. Every muscle tensed. Gojo successfully placed the neuroimplant in the intended location in the brain. However, when it came time to test the connection between the implant and the biometric arm that the patient would eventually use, something went wrong.

The neural signals fluctuated, failing to align with the anticipated patterns. After double-checking the connections and recalibrating the equipment, you traced the issue back to the placement of the implant.

"Looks like the placement is slightly off," you said, examining the data on the screen. "The implant is a bit too far to the right. That's why we're not getting a proper signal."

Gojo sighed. "A fraction of a millimeter off, and it makes all the difference," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the brain before him. "Let's redo this part. We need to make sure we get this right."

You retrieved a fresh brain from the lab's refrigerator. You sure were spending these brains like you get them at the supermarket.

But Gojo wanted perfection. And so did you.

You made the first incision, exposing the underlying area of the brain where the neuroimplant would be placed. Gojo followed with another incision, providing access to the targeted cortical area as you stabilized the tissue. Gojo then carefully placed the neuroimplant in place.

You watched Gojo closely. It was then that you noticed a subtle tremble in his hand.

"Gojo, your hand..."

He glanced at his hand briefly. "It's nothing to worry about," he said. "Just a slight tremor. It'll pass."

He paused for a moment and took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. You watched him, noticing the small beads of sweat that formed on his forehead.

"Gojo, if your hand isn't ready, we should—"

"I know. Just give me a second," he cut you off.

Despite his words, Gojo's hand continued to tremble more noticeably as the procedure carried on. The strain on his face became more evident.

At a crucial point in the procedure, when precision was essential, Gojo's hand shook erratically. He tried to steady it, but the tremor proved too severe. After a moment's hesitation, he abruptly withdrew his hand. He muttered a curse under his breath.

He tore off his surgical gloves, tossing them into the trash with unnecessary force. The sound of his heavy breathing filled the otherwise quiet lab.

You watched him, the room enveloped in stillness.

Gojo leaned heavily against the lab counter, his head hanging low. After a minute, he ran his hands through his hair and met your gaze. "Let's switch roles. I'll take care of the parts I can do with one hand, and you'll handle the critical aspects."

What?

"You mean I should try the implant placement?"

"Yeah," Gojo confirmed. "You've got steady hands, and we just need to ensure it's placed correctly. My hand will heal by the time of the actual surgery."

"I'm not sure, Gojo."

He walked over to you. "We'll need to practice," he continued. "I want to make sure we have every step down perfectly."

"Okay, then let's try it."

So, you prepared again, this time with you in the lead and Gojo at your side, standing close. You glanced at his hand. "Are you sure you can manage with just one hand?"

He smirked. "One hand is all I need to get the job done."

You didn't give him the satisfaction on answering to that.

You began the procedure.

"You're doing well," he said as you carefully maneuvered the tools. His voice close and calm. Every so often, you caught Gojo flexing his injured hand, working through the discomfort. Yet, he remained focused on guiding you through the process. "A steeper angle gives you better access... yes, perfect."

The session progressed more smoothly than you had anticipated. As you completed the practice run, a sense of accomplishment washed over you. You had successfully completed the implant placement.

"We make a good team," Gojo remarked. "I knew you could do it."

You found yourself smiling. "Thanks to your guidance, professor."

"Let's try again just to make sure."

You both prepared for another round of practice. As you repeated the procedure, you became acutely aware of Gojo inching closer. His focus seemed to shift away from the procedure to something other.

"Gojo what are you doing?"

Suddenly, you felt him lean in closer from behind. His breath was warm on the back of your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You could feel him subtly inhaling, as if taking in your scent.

"Did you change your shampoo?"

His question caught you off guard, causing a momentary lapse in your focus. "Ehm, yeah."

"Hm. Change it back. I liked the other one better."

You cleared your throat, trying to ease the flutter in your stomach. "We should really focus on—"

Without warning, he reached out and took the surgical tools from your hands. "We've practiced enough for today."

You turned around to face him. "We could still use some more time to—"

Before you could finish your sentence, he leaned in, closing the space between you. "I think there are other things we should be focusing on right now, wouldn't you agree?" he said, his voice a husky whisper.

He set the surgical tools down on the table behind you. Gojo inched even closer, his lips hovering over yours. "Sometimes, first-year," he whispered, his breath mingling with yours, "—it's important to know when to take a break and enjoy the moment."

In a fluid motion, he lifted you effortlessly, setting you down on the edge of the lab table. His hands were planted firmly on either side of you. Your pulse quickened as you looked up into his crystal blue eyes, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

"Hard work should be rewarded," he went on. "Don't you think so?"

You couldn't find the words to respond, your breaths growing shallow. He reached up, his fingers grasping your hair at the nape of your neck. His tilted your head back, exposing the delicate skin of your neck to his gaze.

"Tell me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your neck, "where should I start?" His mouth met your skin, planting deliberate, slow kisses along your neck. Your breath hitched.

His hands slipped beneath your shirt, pulling you closer until your chest pressed against his. His fingers began to explore the skin underneath your shirt. The sensation of his touch was like fire, sparking a heat within you that you hadn't known before.

He trailed his lips down to your collarbone, each kiss a question. "Should I start here?"

Your arms found their way around his neck, pulling him even closer. The realization that you were crossing a line was there, in the back of your mind, but it was overshadowed by the overwhelming need to be close to him.

Breathless, hearts racing, you both surrendered to the moment. He pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. In an instant, his lips found your collarbone once more, trailing down to your chest. "Or here?" His warm, wet breath brushed against your skin. His fingers dug into your hips.

"Gojo," you breathed out, unable to say anything other than his name.

"What is it, sweetheart? Tell me, where do you need it?" He placed soft, lingering kisses down your chest until he reached your breasts. The sensation sent a wave of warmth through you as he kissed the skin right above the hem of your bra.

Then, in one fluid motion, Gojo knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours. He lifted one of your legs, placing it over his shoulder. With his hand, he pushed the other away, spreading your legs apart. Unable to support yourself on the table any longer, you leaned back.

He continued, placing kisses over the fabric of your jeans, from your knee up to your thighs. "How do you like it here?"

He persisted in his journey up to your sensitive spot, mere inches away from it, his face nestled between your legs. "Tell me, should I start here, sweetheart?"

Overwhelmed, you leaned back further on the table, resting on your elbows for support. Then, accidentally, you pushed the glass container holding the brain, causing it to tip over. The preservative liquid spilled across the table, drenching both of you. You sat up abruptly.

Gojo pulled back. "Did you just spill brain fluid on us?"

"I guess I did," you admitted, still trying to process what had just happened. Here you were, in the middle of a lab, drenched in preservation fluid from a human brain, right before... well, you'd rather not think about it.

Gojo stood up, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Well, that's one way to cool down." He offered you a hand to help you stand up properly. "We should call it quits for today."

You stood, glancing down at your drenched jeans, still feeling the remnants of his kisses and touches on your heated skin.

He leaned in. "You know, if you wanted to get me wet, there are far more enjoyable ways to do it." Then he backed away with a playful smirk.

Back home, you tossed your shampoo bottle into the trash.

─── ·✧· ───

The day of the surgery had finally arrived.

You methodically scrubbed your hands and arms, the sterile scent of the hospital soap filling the room. Through the window, you could see the young patient being prepared in the operating room. He smiled nervously as the nurse inserted the anesthesia needle into his arm.

Is he more nervous or are you? Perhaps you.

The observation gallery was filling up with hospital staff and the usual press, setting up cameras to document the high-stakes surgery. The weight of their gazes, even from a distance, was palpable, intensifying the pressure.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. Gojo hadn't arrived yet. Your heart rate quickened slightly. You reminded yourself that Gojo's hand had been functioning perfectly in the days leading up to the surgery. There was nothing to worry about, right?

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself. As you continued your preparations, the door to the washing room opened, and Geto stepped in.

"Geto," you greeted him, trying to mask your surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to wish you luck," he replied with an easy smile. "But I guess you're so prepared you won't need any."

"Thank you."

"I'll be cheering on you from the observation gallery."

You nodded. After a moment of silence, you said, "Do you know where Gojo is? He should have been here by now."

Geto's brow furrowed. "Hm? I'm not sure, actually. He didn't mention anything to me about being late."

Your stomach turned. It was unlike Gojo to be late, especially on a day like this. "I need to find him," you said, removing your gloves.

"Should I come with you?"

"No, I'll be fine."

You hurried out of the washing room, your mind racing. Where could Gojo be? Was it because of his hand? Or something else? You quickened your pace, moving through the corridors of the hospital, checking every possible place where Gojo could be.

Pulling out your phone, you called Gojo's number. But he didn't answer. You tried calling again, each ring echoing your growing anxiety. Still, silence.

You reached his office. The door was shut and no one answered when you knocked. Taking a deep breath, you cautiously opened it and peered into the dimly lit room.

The blinds were drawn, casting the office in near darkness. Your eyes adjusted, and that's when you saw him—Gojo, slumped against the wall, his legs sprawled on the floor, head tilted back.

Your heart sank as you saw him.

No.

This can't be real.

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. You knelt in front of him. Gently, you cupped his pale face in your hands, urging him to look at you. His usually sharp eyes were unfocused as they struggled to fix on you.

No doubt.

"Satoru," you whispered, his first name escaping your lips. There was no need to address him by his last name anymore, was there?

Not anymore.

His slightly glassy eyes flickered, showing a glimmer of recognition, but he seemed distant, lost in a world of his own—clouded by whatever substance he had taken.

The realization hit you hard.

"Satoru," you called his name again, more urgently this time.

His lips parted, an attempt at speech, but only a slurred, indistinct sound emerged. It was painful to see him like this, to witness the downfall of a person you respected and cared so deeply for. Your skin run cold with fear.

"Fuck, Satoru what are you doing?" you asked, your fingers tenderly stroking his cheek. You needed answers, but more than that, you needed to understand why.

Why?

Why today?

Why Satoru?

You shook him slightly, trying to get any response from him. "Satoru, answer me!"

His focus sharpened slightly, and he murmured, "God, you look so beautiful today."

You shook your head. "What are you saying?"

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm you. Right now, you needed to be strong—for him, for the patient waiting in the OR, and for the team depending on you both.

"We need to call this surgery off," you said as you tried to stand up but his grip on your wrist halted you.

"No, wait!" he said. "We can't call it off."

"What?"

"There's too much at stake. If we don't go through with it today, the project will be dead. The funding, everything we've worked for, will be lost."

"Are you insane? You're fucking high, you can't operate!"

He tilted his head up to meet your gaze. "You can."

Gojo's words hit you like a ton of bricks. "You are insane." You stared at him. "I can't do that."

"You're prepared for this," he countered, gaining a semblance of clarity in his speech. "You know the procedure inside and out. You've practically done it already."

"Don't ask this of me, Satoru," you pleaded, feeling the weight of the responsibility he was trying to place on your shoulders.

Shakily, he stood up, his hands gripping your shoulders. "You can do it," he insisted. "I know you can and I'll be there to assist you."

"Geto is also here, he should do it. "

"Suguru hasn't trained for this specific approach. He won't be able to do it without harming the patient. But you can."

"Then we call it off!" you raised your voice, feeling trapped.

"No, you should do it. You need to do this."

You stared at him, lost for words. The intensity in Gojo's eyes was undeniable, his grip on your shoulders firm yet pleading. "You are the only one who can do this now. And I'll be there to guide you. You have the skills, the knowledge. You've done it before, you can do it again."

"This is insane. You can't assist in your condition," you whispered, holding back tears.

"Give me a few minutes and I'll be ready. I swear."

You studied his face, the redness in his eyes betraying his current state. "Fuck, Satoru. Why are you making me do this?"

"You can do it, I know you can."

Silence.

You nodded.

Stepping into the OR your heart raced. Sweat broke out on your forehead. You moved as if in a trance, the reality of the situation numbing your senses. You and Gojo scrubbed up, then walked into the OR where the patient lay prepped and waiting.

You took your position at the operating table where Satoru was supposed to stand. You could feel the weight of numerous eyes on you; could hear them whispering, but no one dared to say anything. Not with Satoru Gojo beside you. No one dared to question him.

Your eyes darted to the gallery. You saw Geto rise from his seat, his brows furrowed as he stepped closer to the glass in front of him.

"Ignore him," Gojo whispered beside you. "Focus on what's in front of you."

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you turned your attention back to the patient, the ridiculous young patient lying open skull in front of you.

Then you held out your hand to Satoru. "Scalpel, please."

─── ·✧· ───

The clapping around you was a distant sound, barely reaching your ears as you stepped back from the operating table. The surgery was a success. Stress and adrenaline abruptly left your body, leaving you feeling suddenly empty and nauseous.

You run over to the corner of the OR, barely making it to the trash bin before succumbing to the overwhelming urge to vomit. Your body shook with each heave.

The whole room suddenly fell silent.

After vomiting into the trash bin, your body shaking from the sudden release of tension, you pushed your way out of the OR. You heard Satoru call your name, but chose to ignore it. You needed space; you needed to get away from him.

You rushed through the sterile corridors of the hospital. Finally reaching a bathroom, you locked yourself in, pressing your back against the door as you fought to steady your breathing.

The clinical smell of the bathroom was sickening.

The sterile exterior felt sickening.

Everything felt sickening in that moment.

You splashed cold water on your face, trying to wash away the remnants of nausea and regain your composure.

Fuck, you whispered.

Fuck.

Fuck!

Your hands clenched tightly around the edge of the sink, knuckles white with tension. Tears brimmed in your eyes, threatening to spill over, but you willed them back.

Why did it feel like your heart was being torn to shreds?

Your breaths came in rapid succession, shallow and uneven, as panic threatened to take over. But you couldn't let it. Not now. Falling apart was not an option. You forced yourself to take slow, deliberate breaths.

Inhale. Exhale.

With one final, deep breath, you pushed open the bathroom door. Pulling out your phone, you called Geto without hesitation. "Where are you?" you demanded, cutting through any pleasantries.

"In my office."

You hung up and marched straight to his office, pushing the door open without bothering to knock.

"When did you want to tell me he's a fucking addict?" You yelled at him.

Geto stood up, his hands planted firmly on his desk. "When did you want to tell me you're fucking him?" he shot back, his voice equally furious.

You didn't even spend the breath to correct him.

You approached him. "I didn't know my love life concerns you that much."

"Don't you get it? He's your professor, he's lecturing you, you're working on this project together that could shape your whole career. What was that even about just now? Why did you do the surgery?"

"Because Gojo was high, damn it! He was fucking high!" Your frustration boiled over, your hands tugging at your hair as you paced the room.

"You should have called off the surgery! What were you thinking?"

"Huh?" You turned to him. "What I was thinking? What were you thinking? Why didn't you tell me? You knew, didn't you?"

He sank back into his chair, tilting his head back as he let out a heavy sigh. "I thought he had it under control."

Was he for real?

"Under control?" you hissed. "Since when do addicts have their addiction under control?"

The room fell silent.

"You should have told me, Geto," you said as you sat down on the chair in from of his desk.

Geto leaned forward, rummaging through his coat pocket. He retrieved a cigarette and lighter. As he lit it, the flame briefly illuminated his face in a warm, orange glow. The cigarette's tip crackled softly, the smoke curling upwards in lazy spirals.

"Smoking in the office now?"

As he took a slow drag, the cigarette's cherry end burned brighter, and he inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs. A sense of calm seemed to wash over him, his tense shoulders relaxing slightly as he exhaled a thin plume of smoke into the room.

"Does it matter anymore?" he said as he took another drag from his cigarette. He leaned back, the creak of the leather chair punctuating the silence. His dark eyes were fixed on you. Wisps of smoke curled around him.

"When did it start? With Gojo?" you asked him.

His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he took another slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly as he continued to study you. Then his eyes drifted away for a moment.

"It started back in our university days," he finally said. "Satoru was always the charismatic one, the life of every gathering. Back then, it was just for fun, a way to let off steam, to unwind after exam periods."

The ember of his cigarette glowed brighter with each drag, casting a faint light on his face. "But over time it got worse. The occasional use became more frequent, and he lost control. He started needing the drugs just to get through the day. On good days, he could mask it, but on the bad ones..."

He trailed off.

"He tried to quit, to get clean, but it's... he developed such a high tolerance for it that he could easily take drugs and still function. Eventually, he became an expert at hiding his addiction."

Your stomach tightened. The truth felt like a heavy stone on your chest, and it refused to go away. Then your phone rang with a message. Startled, you reached for it. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw the name.

[5:43 PM] Gojo: Where are you?

"Message from your lover?" Geto asked dryly, rising from his seat to get something out of a cupboard.

You tucked your phone back into your pocket. "He wants to know where I am."

"Of course he wants to know." Geto remarked, returning to his desk with a bottle and two glasses. He poured a rich, dark liquid into the glasses, sliding one towards you.

"I don't really drink," you said, observing him take a sip of his whiskey.

"What a shame."

"What happens to the project now?"

Geto laughed. "The project? It was a full success, wasn't it? The neurotranplant worked. The surgery worked. The media will love the story of a young, brilliant surgeon performing such a groundbreaking procedure. They'll be even more fascinated when they find out you're still a student."

"You find this amusing?"

"Not really. It's my project, after all," he replied, taking another sip. He set his glass down, his gaze meeting yours. "They'll want you to lead more surgeries like this one, to further validate the technique."

"I don't think I can do that again. Just the thought of it makes me sick."

Your phone vibrated again.

[5:48 PM] Gojo: Where the hell are you?

[5:48 PM] Gojo: Talk to me.

You stared at the screen.

"You want to go to him?"

"No." Without hesitation, you reached for the glass of liquor, tilted your head back, and swallowed the drink in one fluid motion. The alcohol burned in your throat. "I want to leave."

"Should I drive you home?"

"No, I'm fine," you said, setting the empty glass back on the desk with a slight clink.

─── ·✧· ───

After leaving Geto's office, you made your way to the elevator, lost in thought. The doors slid open, and you were jolted back to reality by the sight of Satoru leaning against the wall inside the elevator. His eyes looked up at you.

No way.

Before you could react or step aside, the people behind you, caught up in their own hurry, pushed forward, shoving you into the elevator. The confined space forced you to stand close to Satoru, your back to him.

The elevator began its descent. The people around you chattered, but you felt that the silence between you and Satoru was louder. You could feel his presence only centimeters away. The close quarters left no room for avoidance, and you were acutely aware of every breath Satoru took.

The elevator ride felt like an eternity, each second stretching out as you struggled to maintain your composure.

"You smell like smoke," Satoru observed quietly.

"Are you still high?" you retorted under your breath, not turning to face him.

"I'm good."

"You're good?" you echoed. "How can you even say that after what happened today?"

"You're angry."

"Angry is an understatement," you replied, turning slightly.

He leaned closer, wrinkling his nose. "Did you drink?" he asked, a bit too loudly. "Are you drunk?"

"It's none of your business, Satoru."

As the elevator stopped and its doors slid open, you saw your chance to escape and quickly maneuvered through the crowd. You wanted to put as much distance between you and him as possible.

The lobby of the hospital was a blur as you rushed through it, Satoru's voice calling after you, but you ignored him. You wanted nothing more than to get away from him.

You pushed through the exit doors and stepped outside, only to be greeted by a heavy downpour. The rain drenched you almost instantly, but you hardly noticed.

His footsteps splashed behind you. "Talk to me!" he called out, his voice barely audible over the sound of the pouring rain.

You quickened your pace, the rain streaming down your face. Your heart ached as you tried to distance yourself from the situation, from Satoru, from everything.

"Enough of this crap already! Talk to me!"

"Leave me alone, Satoru!"

"Then just tell me!" he implored, his tone desperate. "Tell me, will it ever stop?"

You halted, but didn't turn to face him. The rain was relentless, soaking through your clothes, matting your hair against your face. "What do you mean?" you called over the downpour.

"Wanting you—every damn second of every fucking day. I don't think I can take it anymore."

His words cut through the sound of the rain, raw and unguarded. For a moment, you were speechless, his confession hanging heavily in the air between you. You slowly turned to face him, seeing in his eyes a tumult of emotions that mirrored your own.

"Satoru—," your voice barely rose above the rain.

"I can't ignore it," he said, taking a step towards you, closing the gap. "I've tried, believe me, I've tried. But it's always there—you are always there."

Your heart pounded against your chest as he stopped mere inches away from you. Raindrops trickled down his face, cascaded down his striking white hair, which clung to his forehead and temples.

"So tell me," he urged. "Will it ever stop? Because I don't know if I can take it much longer."

You were both soaked to the skin, standing in the middle of the downpour, the world around you blurring into insignificance.

"It's killing me, pretending not to want you is killing me," he said quietly.

He stepped closer. His hands reached out, gently cupping your face.

Then, he kissed you.

Without warning, without permission.

Without even deciding to do it, simply because he couldn't not do it.

His lips pressed firmly against yours, molding to their contours as if they had been crafted to fit together. The world around you faded away, leaving only the sensation of his warm breath mingling with yours, the electrifying touch of his fingers on your cheek, and the intoxicating taste of his mouth.

Your hands found their way to his rain-soaked shirt, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as if you were afraid he might disappear if you let go. His mouth moved hungrily against yours, and you responded in kind, as if trying to convey all the unspoken words and feelings that had lingered between you for far too long.

As the rain poured down, you tasted rainwater mixed with his unique flavor, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. You finally gave in to the undeniable pull that had drawn you together, allowing it to consume you completely.

Because that's how it felt. Satoru Gojo consumed you.

His tongue grazed your lower lip, seeking permission to explore further, and you willingly granted access. His tongue explored every inch of your mouth, caressing and teasing, his urgency and intensity increasing with each passing second.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. Your bodies pressed closer together. His hands roamed your body with a newfound boldness, tracing the curve of your waist, the small of your back, and the nape of your neck. Each touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but respond in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair.

But as you kissed, the reality of what had just happened crashed over you like the waves of the rainstorm around you. In that fleeting moment, you hesitated, and Satoru pulled back.

Separated now, both of you stood there, breathless and drenched by the rain. He lowered his forehead to rest against yours. His arms remained loosely around you.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No, it's... don't speak."

You both stood there under the relentless downpour, the rain streaming down your face, mirroring the tears that had started to well up in your eyes. Satoru reached up to tenderly brush away the tears that slipped down your cheeks.

The silence stretched between you, filled with words you were too afraid to say.

Then you pushed away and turned.

You walked away.

He didn't follow you.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: let the angsty and hurtful part of the story begin haha. as always thank you for reading ♡

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

#gojo saturo #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #professor satoru gojo #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo #jjk x you #jjk

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thirteenthxwitch · 2 years ago

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Rowan Mayfair had just started work at her new hospital Mayfair Medical, seeing as she was a renown neurosurgeon from San Francisco - well at least she thought she was from there. She had recently found out she was adopted and was originally from New Orleans. Many weird things were happening with vampires, ghosts and now witches. Her being one of them. She now was the designee of the Mayfair Coven. Weird was kinda her forte. Though she wasn’t expecting murders to start happening. She didn’t condone this, or ask for this. She was about helping people not hurting them.

She had been warned by other Mayfairs that someone was imprinting Pentagrams on the walls, where the murders happened. A sigil she knew well. However, it wasn’t her, or her coven (that she knew of). The raven haired woman walked down the rainy streets of New Orleans when she had a vision. Another murder. In New York City. A sigh left her lips. Her phone rang, someone from the Talamasca. “Rowan. We need you down in New York City. The Talamasca has a special mission for you and only you are the one who can do this. Maybe you’ll even find Lestat.” A gasp left her lips, the name of her ex-lover in her ears. How she missed him. Her heart still beat for him. After he rejected the Blood from her, she had eventually left Michael and started to live her life single again. She didn’t need Michael like she thought, she kept him around for security and that wasn’t right for either of them. He knew she was in love with Lestat anyway. So, not long after, this happened. Well, a fresh start couldn’t come fast enough. ”I’m on my way.” She hung up and headed home to pack a bag, grab her passport and head off on the next flight.

The next night she was in New York, in her hotel. She had on dark black slacks, a white shirt and a blazer. It was a little chilly in New York compared to the South. She was told to keep tabs on the situation and tell the Talamasca anything she found. However, she’d keep Lestat to herself. They followed him around like a lost puppy, last he told her. He didn’t deserve that. He deserved his peace.

The witch walked down the streets, purse clutched at her side. Her heels clicking on the sidewalk. She gasped when she saw a man by the crime scene. Not what she saw in her vision... Shit. Fuck.

“Uh, hi.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. “Dr. Mayfair.” She said. “Um, I was sent here to check out the crime scene too. I’m from New Orleans. We got word one of the missing and murdered girls are from back home.” She had to come up with something. She grabbed her Doctor’s ID and showed it to him. Proof enough that she wasn’t totally lying.

“So, uh, what did you find?”

Blue eyes sharp and looking around the scene. She could feel the energy of the magick that was placed here. It wasn’t hers. It was darker than that. Black magick. And Lestat’s scent wasn’t here either, he didn’t do this, nor involved. Yet, she wondered if he was here in the city somewhere.

"Who are you?" (From Rowan)

Two bodies in advanced decomposition stage and unidentified mutilated pieces of, at least, three other individuals later, Svarog had enough contact with the dead for the day - Emerald hues flickered to the orange and pinkish shades coloring the skies by the window - correcting: night, with a thoughtful frown while he discarded the rubber gloves in the lab bin and even the unplesant sound of it hitting the shiny aluminium container was able to give him an unsavoury taste under his tongue and dreary unnerving thoughts inside his head.

He had just given his reports about this case to the headchief and dismissed free to what little left of that gloomy colf evening with a very bright, and most certainly morally reprovable excited pat on his shoulder of the boss with a "Einstein" flattery that in addition of being rude as fuck, taking in consideration the critical and cruel situation of those murdered bodies and the grivieng families, they were too beyond a lie - he always been terrible with anything related to numbers.

Dear Lord! He just wanted to crash in his bed.

Svarog tiredly sighted while passing through the front door mildly doing a cross sign before adjusting his silver rosary behind his burgundy shirt, hidden to beyond the bare skin of his collarbone with a too pale face and too bright eyes, not without some effort, he gazed ahead and adjusted up the collar of his long leather coat.

And then while he walked the cold night path back home he saw it the so characteristic yellow fosforescent color of barrier police tape. Svarog passed under the tape with a swift move to better see the stone wall that were surrounded my it. There were no chalk lines on the ground, no blood drops on the ground nor in the footer-

Emerald bright eyes squeezed lightly then as identified a strange mark in the wall. Long fingers touched the star-like symbol with its tips, almost too softly even though the sharp jaw of the man was clenched: a pentagram.

And then he heard a feminine voice and his eyes snapped to the side.

Wow! Smoking hot babe on the radar.

Yet the petulant note on her ask made Sva with devil-may-care casualty and a brain melting contagiously playful smile move his left hand to move away his coat left lateral in the level of his chest reveling in the well tailored black shirt, a few buttons open exposing nonchalantly the sharp collarbones, his distinctive was still visible. And then moving his bright emerald eyes back to the dark haired woman with a tint of boyish amusement playing in the tip of his lips.

"Forensic expert of NY Violent Crimes units."

His tenor voice echoed pleasantly honeyed although professional, as always edging an innate sensuality.

And then the same hand of long fingers that were in his coat now moved, as smoothly elegant, to extended in the woman's direction in a greeting.

"And the miss is...?"

He asked, an almost hiss dancing in his last word with boyish charisma although his verdant hues were firm and gravely serious. This weren't places to civils be. No matter how gorgeous they were. Especially the gorgeous ones.

@hauxtedbeauty

#doctoral bitch ; Rowan Mayfair #yeah Rowan's not the friendliest person #aww she misses Lestat tho :3 #i decided to make Rowan leave Michael haha

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windblooms · 3 years ago

Text

inazuma girls – letting you fall asleep on them

inazuma girls × reader; reader's pronouns aren't specified. headcanons of ayaka, baal, kokomi, sara, yae miko, and yoimiya in the company of their very drowsy s/o. warnings for: power imbalances + unhealthy relationship with baal, don't let the romantic language fool you.

- ̗̀ ayaka ̖́-

if thoma were just a bit more unprofessional, then he'd be teasing her day and night about how her voice hitches the instant you look at her, or the brazen rush of color that swirls on the apples of her cheeks at the mere slip of her name from your mouth; ayaka has, on some occasions, been literally head-over-heels in the middle of the kamisato estate hallways for you, a flustered pile of arms and legs and strewn hair accessories.

"i– oh, i apologize. i wasn't watching where i was going, are you hurt?"

in other words: she's nothing but bashful in your company, and her fondness is painfully obvious, even to the untrained eye.

the first time you allow yourself to go completely limp against her shoulder, the timid kamisato actually believes that something is amiss. she immediately drops what she's doing, careful not to jostle your unconscious body, and inspects your face and pulse.

genuine astonishment isn't an expression she wears often, and it settles awkwardly onto her visage; ayaka reaches out to rub your shoulders and wake you up. perhaps you're ill, and you need to see a doctor. you probably haven't eaten enough today – all sorts of possibilities run rampant in her mind, but come to an abrupt halt once she feels you nuzzle your cheek onto her shoulder.

"oh." she gets it now.

of course, she'll still be concerned. while you're content to rest against her (and her heart keeps doing these little jumping motions, as if it's about to leap out from between her lungs – be still, poor thing), ayaka does her best to keep her figure upright so your neck doesn't crane uncomfortably. she'll also write a note to her retainers to send for a medical advisor, on the off-chance that there really is something that's causing you to feel unwell.

parts of –oh, all of her, from the tips of her ears to the extremes of her toes– are alight with the realization of your trust towards her. inazuma is so hostile nowadays, and being in connection with one of the most renowned clans in the nation can't be easy. your vulnerability, and apparent willingness to share it with her, stirs a warm, kindled sensation in her chest that seldom reoccurs with anyone else.

when you wake up, she's there for you. ready with a myriad of worries and check-ups that will surely keep the two of you preoccupied for the next hour.

- ̗̀ baal ̖́-

the relationship that the two of you share is . . . complex. for one, no one is on equal footing with the raiden shogun, nor ever will be in all of teyvat. two, well . . .

sometimes she will do things that make you feel equal. you've been conditioned your entire career –no, life– to believe that the shogun is all-mighty, barren of competition, and without any obligation to lower herself.

and you still think that. how could you not, when she holds your gaze hostage and curls her voice around your throat, trickles lightning through your bones and bends your knees with just the tilt of her crown–

but she lingers on your figure, beckons you to her side when her other retainers are dismissed, and asks you to stay for tea. her brow eases when you're just an arm's reach away, and you can see the faintest, nearly imperceptible tug of her lower lip between her teeth.

you don't dare protest in these instances, nor verbalize any curiosities. what the raiden shogun wants is her business, and you have no right to interfere.

if only you could tell your mind that, and ingrain it into your soul.

"if there is nothing else to say," she vocalizes one evening, studying your bowed figure on the tatami matt. however, she isn't addressing you, but the other attendants and scouts in her presence, "then you may leave."

the raiden shogun's gaze doesn't falter from you, a silent, unavoidable command, as you rise to your feet and take your place at her side.

this is what celestia is like, you determine as the shogun's palm hovers above your shoulder blades. if it isn't, then what else is?

you don't know (nor do you really want to, apprehensive of an answer to) what the two of you are. perhaps you're her pet, obedient to her whim and incapable of retaliation. yet that fondness in her irises . . . the violet inferno is absent when your eyes meet, and instead, you're only witness to a morning ocean.

"rest." she traces the words into your back, too, and your shoulders sag immediately. with open arms, the shogun welcomes you into her embrace, visage void of any distinct emotion as she cradles your form for the remainder of the night.

- ̗̀ kokomi ̖́-

"that's the last of our tasks today. you look a bit weary – would you like to retire for the day?"

with the lilt in her voice airy and serene, she manages to lure you into her tranquil reef. kokomi's clothes are so inviting to your senses, wafting of seabreeze and island ganoderma, and her smile . . . you'd probably be sent into cardiac arrest, since merely observing her makes your heart halt in your chest.

the sleeves of her dress tickle your cheeks, and boop against your nose. curtains drawn closed and with only candlelight to illuminate the room, the ambiance is much more intimate than in her office. there have been a handful of instances when she's worn herself out and collapsed on atrociously-strewn heaps of books, and you've had to craft a make-shift cot in the study. but thankfully those occurrences are seldom, and the two of you can enjoy the quietude of her room.

lethargy softens the skin underneath her eyes. concerned, you reach out a slow hand to brush the displaced hair from her forehead, but she catches your fingers in her own. she offers her signature, reassuring smile.

within moments, a small jellyfish materializes on her fingertips, just next to yours. it dances and pedals down your arm, over the ridge of your shoulder, and nuzzles your head affectionately. kokomi's quaint laughter follows.

she starts. "we made lots of progress today, and each hour was worth it. the resistance will be glad to hear of our accomplishments. but i can't go out there and speak without my lucky guppy." on queue, a watery string rubs against your cheek. the jellyfish, pleased with itself, evaporates into a light shower of hydro.

"so we should rest now. don't run that ingenious mind of yours in circles."

and what the lady sangonomiya decrees is what shall be done. she cranes her neck to give you a gentle kiss on your lips, content, before squeezing your hand. she observes as your eyes drift shut, and your chest rises and falls evenly.

kokomi falls asleep after ruminating of future days when she won't have to worry about protecting your resting form, because in the future, it'll be guaranteed.

- ̗̀ sara ̖́-

there isn't any instance that you can recall in which sara is at ease. shoulders drawn back and bow at the ready, ruthless efficiency is seemingly her only disposition. even in the face of you, her treasured and loyal tenryou companion, she has yet to let down her guard, or objective for that day.

you worry that's all there is to her. callous meticulousness and pragmaticism for such a devout, unwavering soul to the shogun. there's more to her, there has to be, you wish. not just for yourself to alleviate the shock of her piercing words as they puncture your ears, but for her. she shouldn't just live her life under one goal, one purpose. as prestigious as serving the shogun is, there has to be more to the reason of celestia's blessings than serving others.

the trek today has been laborious. tracking down the resistance is, unfortunately, a tedious chore, and the rest of the soldiers that accompany the two of you have withdrawn to their bedding for the night. sara sits, silent on the lake shore, eyes transfixed on the stark outline of seirai island. tepid yet hopeful, you approach her figure, softly calling out her name as she turns to greet you in the moonlight.

"is there something you'd like to speak about?" she curtly prompts, verbiage formal. you shake your head, and gradually ease yourself down to her side. "it would be best for you to head in soon. the clouds won't be merciful tonight."

again, you shake your head. sara doesn't say anything else, leaving you in the stillness of the night. all of a sudden, your eyelids feel heavy.

"i might . . . actually . . . " you murmur, and sara is quick to turn her head towards you. you seem to sway, and she suppresses the urge to reach out and support you; that would be unprofessional, after all, so she settles for a sigh.

after thoroughly asking for permission, sara wraps an arm under yours, bearing the weight of your body as she helps you to your tent. you're still partially awake, as your feet don't completely drag against the dirt, but she doesn't take any short-cuts. lowering you onto your cot, sara tugs the blankets over your figure, mutely observing as you float to sleep.

another deep exhale. in the morning, she'll ask the kujou physician to ensure that you're in adequate health to continue following the resistance.

- ̗̀ yae miko ̖́-

her eyes lift from the article in her hands as soon as she catches your figure at the tips of her vision. the edges of her lips quirk up slightly, lipgloss shining in the sakura light, as she extends a lithe arm to greet you.

"tell me," she murmurs sweetly, and you sink into her embrace. the weather is pleasant outside the shrine, and the two of you are sheltered from the poisoning at the base of the great tree. although she doesn't tell you aloud, yae does find solace away from the bustle of onlookers. her wit is quick and prowess, unmatched, but a maiden such as herself does deserve her withdrawals every once in a while.

"the day's been kind to you, hasn't it." it's a statement, as if she's seen your afternoon through a crystal ball. there's no envy, nor any other negative sentiment, behind her claim; in fact, yae allows her facial features to soften, rubbing a lone thumb along your side as you sink further into her hold.

"you can sleep. some suns needn't be alert."

a hum emanates from you in response. she speaks cryptically, and those familiar with her have the inkling she does so on purpose. you don't pay any mind to her coy mannerisms, and instead, listen to what she means: yae draws a landscape of the countryside in your mind, air fresh from a meadow and a breeze that carries tales from far away lands.

yae affords an indulgent laugh, lowers her body until her back is flush against the petal-covered ground, before puppetting your figure after her. with your head on her breasts, the priestess threads her fingers through your hair, fixated on how they fall back after she finishes toying with them.

her chest rises, then falls. with her heartbeat, you have a lullaby of the shrine itself, whispering into your ear and caressing your skin.

although yae closes her eyes, she doesn't drift like you do. she still intakes the mumbling of inazuma denizens from up the shrine, and the zephyr codings in the wind. eventually, her hand falls, and she indulges herself by allowing it to collapse on top of yours.

yes. some suns needn't be alert.

- ̗̀ yoimiya ̖́-

"what say you and i get some treats after the festival? did'ya hear – apparently there's this fellow from kannazuka who's really popular for making taiyaki . . . "

it's always lively with her around. any other stranger to yoimiya's eccentricity would probably be left with whiplash, since her pace is break-neck and adaptability, unparalleled. but to her jubilation, you seem eager enough to keep up.

the past month especially has been hectic, with non-stop preparations for the plethora of summer festivals in inazuma. yoimiya has been in and out of the work shop more times than you can count on your two hands, yet never relents.

you've even taken care to help out where you can, the pyrotechnician carving out breaks to teach you how fireworks operate, how to process orders, so on and so forth.

you're practically apart of the business now, and yoimiya ensures to compensate you with plenty of gifts and kisses.

this is one of the last festivals of the summer season, much to both your relief and despondency. the two of you are understandably exhausted, although yoimiya doesn't wear the fatigue on her sleeve as much as you do; that's just how she is, still insistent on enjoying the festival that the two of you contributed your time to make shine.

"waah, there's a good spot up ahead! c'mon, let's go there."

with snacks in-hand, you plop down next to her. she's right (as always): there isn't any foliage to obscure the twinkling sky above, nor too many nearby individuals that'll smudge your alone-time. content, you nestle closer to her, the melody of distant chatter and pacified onikabuto gradually dulling your senses . . .

of course, yoimiya notices when your breathing evens out and you're just a bit heavier against her arm. briefly, she detracts herself from the colorful, explosive display above to fold her legs and lower your head onto her thighs.

her fingers are nimble against your scalp, carding through your hair. you're none the wiser to her care, even as the blasts above dwindle off and the shore overtakes the ambiance at midnight.

#genshin impact x reader #ayaka x reader #baal x reader #raiden shogun x reader #kokomi x reader #yoimiya x reader #yae miko x reader #sara x reader #ayaka kamisato x reader #kamisato ayaka x reader #sara kujou x reader #kujou sara x reader #raiden shogun headcanons #baal headcanons #baal scenarios #yoimiya headcanons #yae guuji x reader #yoimiya scenarios #kokomi headcanons

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signedaiko · 3 years ago

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I want to resend one of my previous messages cuz I feel I rambled on that one way too much lol Hope that’s ok. My request is for your HCs for an unaligned bot that’s revealed to have the power to summon and create Energon, and how TFP bots and cons of your choice would react to such a sight. When said bot was found, their stasis pod was encased in Energon crystals. They were told about the war from their rescuers, and the impact of such news caused said bot to anxiously pace around. In doing so they were leaving a trail of Energon crystals that would grow wherever they stepped. However they didn’t notice until after the bots and cons of your choice pointed it out to them. In the past, the unaligned bot was a scientist and they gained their powers from a freak lab accident. As a trade off to such a power however they have no combat experience whatsoever.

Coffee Birb

Ratchet [Prime]

- Ratchet would not mistake who you were, a renowned scientist that dabbled in the medical field - He took significant doubt in your survival, as that would mean you went on for millions of years without being seen - After various scans, checks and a surprising resuscitation from yours truly, it was no doubt the bot that had seemingly perished so long ago - And with you came the only thing the doctor would ever consider a miracle; the power to create energon - Ratchet was careful with you, as you could be all sorts of fragile after such time - He would lecture any bot willing to be reckless in your vicinity - Being such a small team, there were many times you would insist on helping the team - But Ratchet was sure to keep you in base - Not only had you no war experience whatsoever, but you were also a walking combustible - Who knew what one laser could do with whatever trail you lead - Not to mention you were probably the most valuable cybertronian known to the universe - Both because of the energon and because you were a joy to have in the lab - Ratchet would never tell you that

Shockwave [Prime]

- What they found in the mines was at first thought to be a large energon cluster - But upon drilling and cracking through the ginormous crystal, something Cybertronian laid within - Your stasis pod was brought immediately to Shockwave - He took a great time picking each crystal from the device to ensure whoever was inside would not suffer from an explosion - And the scientist was filled with a temporary pride when he managed to salvage what he thought at the time to be a corpse - He was wrong - You burst upwards and smacked right into him moments before he was going to cut into your arm to analyze you further - He wasn't planning on keeping you alive as it would be a waste of energon - But he quickly realized that excuse was most illogical considering you created it - I like to think you both worked together a long while back, but he does not care to remind anyone of such

Soundwave [Prime]

- Your status pod crash-landed right near the Nemesis, so it was all easy to recover and bring on board - Knockout saw to your care when you were pulled from the rubble, and that was when Soundwave's interest piqued - No insignia, no identification node, no alt mode as seen by lack of transformation cog - Among all else, the TIC was an interrogations officer, so it was in his duty to interrogate you - Your designation was unmistakably the same one as the great scientist that fell just before the war had started - He lands you a position among their rank in the labs and has found you produce much more energon when content - Soundwave sees to it that you are protected in the Nemesis, but naturally, he would have seen whether he wanted to or not

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

Authors Note - I kind of went for the 'scientists' of the groups because I felt that opened a big door for possibilities here :)! Less focus on romance or anything here and more lore aspect of this because I realllyyyy like the prompt here!

#transformers #transformers x reader #tfp #transformers prime #soundwave #shockwave #ratchet #headcanons #transformer headcanons

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jojobee2256 · 2 years ago

Text

Final Wish

Warning: dying reader, angst, doffy’s daughter, isolation

Part 2

You sneak out of the mansion easily and walk the streets of the city barefoot. You had been feeling better lately, but you had enough experience to know this was the calm before the storm. After all that's how your disease worked. In a few weeks you would be bed ridden, unable to keep anything down, and in so much pain that whatever doctor the family brings in no matter how renowned would put you into a medical induced coma till the episode passes in a few more days. You were used to the routine since you've had the illness all your life, but you never got to go to town. The most you were allowed out was in a wheelchair through the mansions gardens with a family member pushing you.

You laugh to yourself a bit. He would be so mad at you when he found you gone. He almost never let you out of his sight to the extent of having a nanny cam installed in secret in you room, but you spotted it right away. After all you knew every corner of the place. Today you had planned for the power to go out in your room though and dad was on a mission so you were able to escape easily before the nurses came to check on you or the maids to see why the power wasn't working.

Normally you would never do such a thing but you could feel your strength leaving you for the last few months, your heart giving in despite your will wanting to live. This next one may be the one that finally kills you and you wanted to see outside the mansions large walls at least once.

You notice a lot of interesting people, a man with odd piano like teeth, a woman who was eating an absurd amount of food, a large guy with disproportionate wings on his back. You were so busy people watching you didn't notice the group in front of you and fell down hard after colliding with the one in the middle.

"Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going." You apologize while carefully getting up. You had scrapped up your hands when you fell and your elbow was bleeding but it was your fault for not looking. As you begin to walk away, thinking about how you were going to explain this to your over protective father, a man stops you.

"Oi you stupid mosshead, apologize to the lady!" He grabs your hand and gently yet firmly.

"What'd you call me, you ero cook!?!" The green haired man shouted back. The first one let's go of your hand and you shuffle back a little bumping into another member of the group.

"I'm sorry! I didn't notice someone behind me!" You spin around and apologize again but to a woman this time. She laughs a little and smiles at you, moving her black hair from her face.

"It's alright, those two tend to get carried away so why don't we get you cleaned up instead of waiting here?" She holds her hand out to you.

"It's fine really, it was my fault. I'll just tend to my wounds when I get home." You try to reassure the woman, not wanting to cause anymore trouble.

"Still, if our friend heard that we let an injured girl walk away without helping her out, he would be quite upset." Not wanting to be rude with denying her again and thinking about how you really didn't want to go back like this, you take her hand.

"Ok, my dad would be pretty upset if I came home like this anyway. I should get home soon though, my family will go crazy if I don't go back soon."

"Then we better get you fixed up quickly. Our friend Chopper is a doctor and is at a nearby clinic helping out another one of our friends." She talks about how the two of them would have you good as new as she guides you to a clinic a few blocks from where you were. Once you reach it you read the sign saying 'Heart Clinic' and are instantly reminded of Corazon and Law. They had apparently betrayed the family and had been killed, but you were always fond of your uncle and Law. He had an incurable disease like you and would always talk about how he would cure you before he died. At the time only the executive members of the family were allowed to visit you, but Baby 5 and Buffalo would occasionally sneak in to see you, however they never told Law about you. He discovered you on accident when he was trying to find a 'peaceful' place to read and ended up in your room since he hardly saw anyone come in and it seemed quiet enough. Since then had visited You whenever he could and would keep you company.

You chuckle bitterly at the memories. Maybe you could meet him soon after death. You knew what your family did and you didn't necessarily agree with it but loved them anyway and chose to ignore their wrong doings out of a fear of dying alone. Law and Corazon were different though, you didn't have to ignore any wrong doings they did because they didn't do many of them, if any at all, in your eyes.

"Robin, I thought you went out with Zoro and Sanji to get some food?" An orange haired woman walked up to the two of you, snapping you back out of your thoughts.

"We were but then Zoro bumped into..." she turned to you. "Oh my, I forgot to get your name!" You smile at her and open your mouth to say your name when it comes out in a different, more masculine voice than your own.

"(Y/N)-ya?!" You turn to the origin of the voice to see a tall man with black hair sticking out of a fluffy white hat with black spots... just like Law had all those years ago. He rushes over to you and hugs you tightly, as if you were going to disappear if he didn't grab hold of you.

"Law? Is that you?" You try to turn your head to see his face but he buried it into your shoulder and hair.

"Yeah, it's me." He let's go of you a bit but still holds you at an arms distance. "I thought you died."

"Me? I thought you did! Everyone told me you died with uncle Corazon years ago!" He flinches as you say Corazon's name but not necessarily in a bad way.

"No, only Cora-San died that day. I escaped and healed myself, but you should have died years ago. Your condition-" Law's interrupted by Robin.

"I don't really get what's going on but shouldn't you treat her wounds first?" Laws eyes immediately rest on your arms and drags you to the nearest room with an examination table.

"What happened!" He seemed very upset as he began to disinfect and cover your wounds.

"I just bumped into someone and fell down. It was an accident caused by me not paying attention." He looks at you skeptically.

"And did you fall so hard you lost your shoes?"

"Oh, I forgot about that!" You laugh a little. By now you were joined in the room with several other people, including the three from before.

"I was wondering about that. You didn't have any on when you bumped into Zoro." Robin points out.

"Well, I don't really have any shoes aside for some indoor slippers so I just ran out like this. It was a choice to go outside like this and I don't regret it." You wiggle your dirty and beat up toes with pride.

"Eh? Do you never leave your house with shoes on? That's inconvenient. You should get some!" A boy with a strawhat tells you.

"I have a couple of pairs you can have at the apartment. I'll go get them." The orange haired woman adds before starting towards the door.

"Oh, you don't need too!" You shout out quickly before she can leave the room. "I never leave the house grounds so I never needed shoes before. I just wanted to go outside once and besides, when I get home My family will probably never give me a chance to leave again so it's ok." You blabber on without fully realizing how much you said.

"They lock up such a beautiful princess in a house! Don't you worry, your knight in shining armor has arrived and you don't ever have to go back again!" The blonde guy from when you first met spouts out as he dances around the room. He attempts to grab my hand but Law blocks him.

"Just who exactly is your family?" A long nosed guy asks. You jump a little and look at Law. He gives a nod before speaking himself.

"I need to treat her feet first so why don't you all introduce yourselves and then we'll fill you in on why she has been locked up inside her whole life." Law knew you wanted a chance to compose yourself because he also knew that you weren't exactly eager to tell people who your father was. Lots of people get hurt because of him and you didn't want to have them hate you due to your bloodline.

After learning everyone's name and Law finished wrapping your feet, you all moved to the break room where you sat next to Law on a couch.

"I want to explain why I am not allowed outside first." You begin. "My family was told that I had an unknown disease when I was a baby and my dad never wanted me to leave the house grounds in fear of me having an episode outside. I don't think I even have a social security number, he's hidden me so well. None of the doctors could figure out what it even is or what caused it, but they knew it was going to kill me."

"Then how do you know Law if you never went outside before?" Nami asks.

"I was apart of her family for a while when I was a kid. Only the higher family members knew about (Y/N)-ya, I just stumbled upon her one day though." Law adds while pulling you a bit closer to him.

"So that means (Y/N)'s family is..." Franky begin.

"Yeah, my dad is Doflamingo."

"EH!!!!" Everyone in the room voices their shock.

"I know my family has done horrible things and I hope they get justice eventually, but... is it so wrong to want to die surrounded by those that love you?" They all seem to grow less tense at your statement but Law seemed to actually stiffen in return.

"What are you saying, (Y/N)-ya?" He asked in a stern voice and as if in cue your chest begins to burn a bit. You stand up and turn to Law with a smile on your face.

"You already know I'm dying. It was a miracle I made it this long, but I feel myself getting weaker." You touch your chest as the glaring pain grows. "I probably won't live through this next episode, whatever doctor Dad brings will just put me under again and I'll die in my sleep. I am just happy I got to go out this once, I even got to see you again so I have no regrets." You turn to leave and as you reach the door you turn to Law on last time. "I am glad you got yourself cured, bye Law." And with that you left the room leaving the remaining people stunned and silent only to have your vision fade halfway down the hallway and collapse against the cold floor.

#law x reader #law x y/n #law x you #one piece #doflomingo daughter #doffy daughter #trafalgar law

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jerzwriter · 3 years ago

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The Ex Factor... Tomas A Casey & Ethan Story...

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Casey)

Rating: Teen

Summary: LinkedIn suggests Casey's ex as a connection for Ethan and he can't leave well enough alone.

Category: Fluff with a bit of jealousy on the side

Warnings: Maybe a curse or two

Words: 836

A/N: This is a just-for-fun fic, but it became too much fun, so I'm not opposed to revisiting other exes (his and hers) in similar ways in the future... let's see where it goes?

A/N 2: Tomas FC is Diego Boneta

Ethan detested social media. To him, it was no more than a vast wasteland filled with grotesque conspicuousness. It seemed people did not have a modicum of decorum any longer and he wanted no part of it. That is until Casey came into his life. Now, to his chagrin, he occasionally appeared on her timeline. Sometimes even smiling.

He felt it was a travesty that he was forced to get an account due to the Gwyneth Monroe debacle, and he planned on deleting it right away. Planned on. But the lure of remaining, thanks to his one and only Insta friend, proved too tempting. He could never get enough of her bright smile, her ocean blue eyes, the curve of her... well, you've got the picture. So there he stayed. It was seldom used typically only when Casey was not around and he really needed a fix before they were official. Since they were official, he'd check every so often to make sure she wasn't mocking him too much.

But then there was his professional burden. He didn't want a LinkedIn Account. What was the purpose? If people wanted to see his published works, there were plenty of avenues to find them. If the hospital wanted to highlight his personal success or that of his team, isn't that what their website was for? But one day the suggestion became a requirement.

"We'll set it up for you," Naveen's assistant beamed.

Translate. We don't trust what you'll do with it, so let us.

But now he was in the habit of checking it once a month, usually on his laptop with Casey curled up nearby. She'd be scrolling through more entertaining content as Ethan learned what an old Hopkins buddy or two were up to today, or making sure Tobias wasn't doing anything to cause the team grief. He often found the suggested connections interesting, but never as much as tonight:

What the...

Tomas Sanchez. Renowned new voice in the social psychology movement. Area Chair at UCLA, the youngest person to ever hold that title. No surprise really, his two recent publications, both geared for the mass media, sat on the top of the New York Times charts for over a year each. He used his newfound wealth to create a mental health clinic for migrant workers, and he named it after his Abuela. Then he spearheaded a new program to make mental health services available to disadvantaged youth in his community, the attention came from as far away as the White House. He was on the talk show circuit frequently, baring that toothy grin next to one luminary or another, who more often than not were singing his praises. Some felt he was handsome, though Ethan didn't see it. What he did see is that a Ph. D clearly didn't teach the man how to button his damn shirt properly. He'd probably fit right in with Lahela and Carrick. Ethan shook his head.

While all these accolades were impressive, indeed, Ethan was a world-renowned leader in the medical community. Unlike Dr. Sanchez, he didn't want nor seek the media spotlight. So that left just one reason that the mention of his name alone, never mind the audacity of LinkedIn suggesting they connect, turned the normally logical doctor into an irrational loon. And that was because of a title Tomas held long before he was a semi-household name... the first man who ever owned Casey's heart.

Casey sat about ten feet away, snuggled up on the couch giggling as she tapped away at the screen on her phone. Ethan chuckled. She was undoubtedly engaged in three simultaneous group chats, all with the same group of friends. He didn't get it. He didn't want to. He no longer tried. But he didn't care, because he loved the way it made her smile.

He looked back to the toothy, chest-bearing psychologist staring back at him. He wasn't Lahella, he wasn't a fling or a friend with benefits. He was her first love. Real love. She thought she would marry him until their work took them apart. He glanced over at her again and felt his body melt with relief. Thank God he himself had come to his senses as her residency ended, or else they could have suffered the same fate.

Preeminent psychologist of his generation, my ass. He let Casey go, how smart could he be? Clearly not as smart as he thinks he is. And there is no way I'm connecting with that clown.

He was about to close his laptop when Casey spoke.

"Baby! Guess who is going to be in Boston next month! Tomas! He is coming for two days for an interview and book signing and he wants to grab dinner. My God, it's been... I don't even know how long it's been any more!"

Is that why she's smiling?

Yeah, the laptop wasn't closing. He knew he shouldn't do it. He was being ridiculous. This was beneath him. But...

Down the rabbit hole, he fell...

Scholarly article. How nice.

Accolades from the governor. Isn't that special.

Charity ball. Attended stag. Hmmm.

Instagram account...

Looks like he hasn't been on this once since... 2014? Can that be right, say's he was an NYU grad student that's about right... when he and Casey were dat ... oh, fuck it.

Click.

CASEY!!!!!!!!!

To be continued.....

SERIES MASTERLIST

#choices fan fic #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #casey x ethan #playchoices fan fic #fics of the week #cfwc fics of the week #ethan ramsey x casey mactavish

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wandaluvstacos · 4 months ago

Text

SEASON OF BLOSSOMS

THE FOUR CHAPTER IS UP! (THE FIRST 5 CHAPTERS WILL BE FREE)

Genre: Fantasy Romance Rating: 18+ Elevator Pitch: Bridgerton, but gay and with tieflings. Check out this story’s art under the tag Season of Blossoms

Excerpt:

In the painting, Ysaika was completely surrounded by flowers of every variety, color, and shape, and in their detail laid Thimwich’s genius. Anli could name most of the blossoms, but the list would be lengthy and Anli would be missing the point in creating it. Anli was not trained in the reading of art, but she knew Thimwich made no mistakes. The flowers were overwhelming in their quantity and diversity, and it seemed that Ysaika was not so much in a garden as she was in an ostentatious collection created solely for this painting. This was Thimwich’s love letter to his spouse, an attempt to match Ysaika’s beauty and show is devotion with every stroke of the brush. How many nights had he spent detailing ever petal? He likely painted them after he painted Ysaika, and so each night spent painting a flower was another night he would spend in the looming and angelic presence of his beloved.

Anli didn’t know how long she stood there staring at it, but eventually she felt Mithleem touch her shoulder.

“Are you tearing up?” Mithleem murmured in the silence of the giant room.

“No.” Anli sniffed and wiped at her face. “Maybe.”

Mithleem squeezed her arm. “It’s a beautiful painting.”

“Can you imagine someone painting you like that?” Anli whispered, afraid of intruding upon the quiet. “I believe the pamphlet advertisement said it took him a year.”

“It’s something.”

“He must really love them, don’t you think? It’s so apparent in how he paints them.”

“I’d probably paint more clothes on my spouse.”

Anli turned to Mithleem with pursed lips. “You don’t get art, do you?”

“I get it. Maybe if I looked that good naked, I’d want to be painted nude, too.”

#Season of Blossom #update #original fiction #patreon #my writing

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c-optimistic · 4 years ago

Note

Hallo! I greatly enjoy your writing, for everything really, and whenever you get the chance and some inspo hits, wouldya write somethin sweet and gay? Whatever you're feeling, I'm sure I'll enjoy it! Thank you v kindly and I hope you have a lovely evening/day!

Kara shifted in the chair, feeling a tiny bit uneasy. Her nurse—a young woman who introduced herself as Nia when Kara had been called from the waiting room—smiled kindly and paused her typing on the desktop situated on the study table in the examination room.

“First time getting your eyes checked?” she said knowingly, voicing the question though the answer was clear in Kara’s fidgeting hands and on Nia’s computer screen, proclaiming Kara to be a first-time patient. “You shouldn’t worry, Dr. Luthor is the best ophthalmologist in the business. She’s world renowned, not that she’d ever admit to it.” It seemed like that last part was more for Nia’s benefit than Kara’s, said in a slightly miffed mumble as she turned her attention back to the computer. “Any known allergies?”

Kara blinked, feeling a bit trapped. “Um, no, but—”

“—we don’t have any medications listed for you. Is that right? You’re not on any prescriptions?”

“Oh, no. I’m not. But I—”

“—I see you wear glasses. When was the last time you got a prescription? Did you want to get new frames, we can—” Finally Kara had enough. She reached out and grabbed Nia’s hand, causing her to fall silent. “This is weird. Is this a come on? Because you’re really pretty, but I don’t swing that way.”

“No, I—wait, what?” Kara released Nia, feeling as though she’d been burned. “No! Not a—not a come on, I would never—”

“Look, it’s okay. I didn’t think so, you seem...well, nice. But I have a lawyer friend who owes me a favor so...I can have you sued. Just so you know.” She narrowed her eyes in an attempt, unsuccessful unfortunately, to look intimidating. “So what is it? You look like I tried to drown your cat.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” Kara confessed, meeting Nia’s eyes steadily. The nurse blinked owlishly at her, clearly lost.

“I don’t follow,” she said, confirming what Kara already knew.

“Look, I’m going to trust you, okay? There’s nothing actually wrong with my eyes. Or my health in general. I’m in like perfect health. By human standards, maybe more than perfect. But I don’t want to sound arrogant or anything, you know?”

Nia’s head was cocked to one side as she studied Kara. “Sorry, I still don’t follow.”

“I’manalien,” Kara said in a rush, and judging from the way Nia’s eyes widened and her expression cleared, she understood Kara perfectly.

“Well that explains all...that,” she gestured wildly to Kara. “So what’s the issue? Dr. Luthor is super supportive of aliens. She’s one of the only doctors in National City to—”

“—I don’t need glasses!” Kara interrupted, not really needing to hear about Dr. Luthor. “Look, I’m only here because,” she paused, not sure if she was willing to give the long explanation of how her work mishap, the stupid excuse she’d mumbled out, and a well-meaning coworker’s insistence to help (with a voice in Kara’s head that sounded suspiciously like Alex reminding her to keep her secret identity secret when she tried to get out of the whole thing) led her here to this moment, “it doesn’t matter. I just need your help. Tell the doctor I don’t need to be seen, give me a fake prescription, and I can go on my way.”

Nia frowned, shaking her head. “Dr. Luthor would never buy it, and she has to sign the prescriptions. She’s very particular about it. You’re here, you may as well just...get your eyes checked?”

“My alien eyes that can shoot lasers and see through anything but lead? Those eyes?”

“That’s so cool,” Nia breathed out, but she was focused. She pulled a drawer open and pulled out to eye drops. “One is to numb, the other is to dilate.” She paused, eyeing the bottles then Kara. “Would you even need a numbing agent?”

Kara resisted the urge to tell Nia that her cousin once had a bullet to the eye and it just dropped to the ground, harmless to a Kryptonian. Instead, she leaned her head back, allowing Nia to apply the drops, reassuring her the whole time that she’d help with Dr. Luthor. She winked at Kara before slipping out of the exam room, leaving only a single dimmed light on, assuring her the “doctor would be in soon.”

Kara closed her eyes—which felt no different from before she’d gotten the eye drops—and leaned her head back. She couldn’t leave, she didn’t want to stay, and she was just about to declare this one of the worst days in the last year at best, when there was a knock at the door and it swung open.

And standing there, bathed in the bright light of the hallway, was the most beautiful woman Kara had ever seen, a grinning—and all too smug—Nia standing right behind her.

She had long dark hair, brilliantly green eyes, wore the tightest dress Kara had ever seen, with heels that she was sure were murder to walk in all day. The sleeves of her white coat were rolled up to her forearms, her bright red lips were curved into a breathtaking smile.

“Hi,” said the walking angel, “I’m Dr. Lena Luthor. Nia tells me you wanted to check your eye pressure and get a new prescription?”

Kara nodded numbly, struck dumb by Dr. Luthor’s easy grace.

Nia snickered, actually snickered, as she closed the door behind them, leaning against it as Lena pulled a chair in front of Kara and motioned for her to bring her face up to the tonometer. “Forehead against, yes, and chin on the rest down there...perfect,” Dr. Luthor said gently, her voice like honey. Kara couldn’t help it, her eyes followed Dr. Luthor’s, wanting to memorize the shade. She was so busy trying to decide whether it was an emerald or sea green, forgetting entirely her misgivings about being here in the first place, that she missed the first part of Nia’s attempt to ‘help.’

“—quite extraordinary, don’t you think?” Nia finished, causing Dr. Luthor to pull slightly away, cheeks tinged pink.

For the first time, Lena Luthor was something just below perfection, stumbling over her words a little as she responded. “Oh, yes, um. They are. Looking at eyes is my job, Ms. Danvers, but yours are—well, like Nia said, so unprofessionally, they’re quite extraordinary.” She leaned back in, looking a little interested. “In fact, they’re almost—”

“—your eyes are very green,” Kara blurted, both because she was thinking it with Dr. Luthor’s face so incredibly close and because she wasn’t sure if she wanted a world renowned ophthalmologist looking too carefully at her eyes, lest she see something, well, inhuman. “Do your patients ever mention that?”

“For sure, but you’re probably the first person Dr. Luthor wants to hear it from,” Nia said, which had the doctor in question turn around and flash her a dirty look, and had Kara spluttering.

“Your lawyer friend should sue you,” Kara managed before refocusing her attention on Dr. Luthor. “I’m really sorry about commenting on your eyes. That was rude. I said the quiet part out loud. Can the numbing agent for the eyes cause a loose tongue?”

It was the stupidest thing to say, Kara knew it as soon as the words escaped her, embarrassment heating her cheeks and the back of her neck as Nia choked on laughter and Dr. Luthor seemed, well, angelic.

“You know, Nia tells me you have very interesting eyes,” Dr. Luthor said, her tone and the stressing of ‘interesting’ making it very clear Nia had told her about the laser vision. “You don’t need a doctor.”

“I need a fake prescription.”

“I can write you a note instead,” the doctor offered, getting Kara to lean back in her chair and tugging the tonometer out of the way. “Would that work?”

“Could you say I can’t see with my old glasses and that’s why I ran into a table and knocked over a coworker’s favorite mug, not that I broke it by trying to heat their coffee with my laser vision?”

Dr. Luthor laughed, the sound like the jingling of bells. It was beautiful and was thoroughly distracting. “I think that’s a lot for a note. What about, you have vision issues I’ve never seen before?”

Kara thought about it for a moment, then nodded, sticking her hand out for the doctor who stared at it with a fond smile on her lips. “You’ve got a deal, Dr. Luthor,” she said, waiting for the angel to take her hand. After several seconds, during which Lena Luthor met and held Kara’s gaze, she reached out and took Kara’s hand, her index and middle finger sliding against the inside of Kara’s wrist. She opened her mouth—to say what, Kara wasn’t sure—when Nia cut in.

“In return for the note, Kara will take you to coffee. Oh look you shook on it! That’s an oral contract, my lawyer friend will sue you if you don’t go on that date.”

Kara blushed and glared at Nia, ready to let the doctor off the hook, but Dr. Luthor’s grip on her hand tightened. And when Kara’s eyes met Lena Luthor’s incredibly green ones, she noticed they were crinkled in a smile.

“When we go to coffee,” she said softly, “you have to call me Lena. All my dates do.”

#you're so nice anon thank you so much!#this is brought to you by a shitty week #and a trip to the eye doctor #during which I was very much inspired #apologies for all ophthalmology errors #and also apologies if it's like super unethical #it seems very unethical/inappropriate #anyway!#supercorp #fanfic

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nillegible · 4 years ago

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the JGY amnesia Fic

[AN: Someday I will come up with decent titles for my fics... but not now XD I hope you like this fic, the premise is that the issue with XY and NMJ happens before JZX’s death, and so the argument and the stairs moves up in the timeline! And JGY hits his head and gets TV-show amnesia, and remembers no one, not even himself, but is otherwise his sharp, suspicious self...]

He wakes up sure that he is dying, nothing else could hurt so sharp, agonizing pain radiating out from the back of his head, stabbing sharply every time he is swung, and he forces his eyes open. The light burns, but he can make out an earth green and brown collar, and a strong jawline. He is being carried by this man.

He doesn’t know who this is, but he feels… safe. Even though every step this man takes makes his eyes water.

He blacks out.

His name is Jin Guangyao. It rolls smoothly off his tongue, but sits wrongly in his mind. “Temporary amnesia,” the doctor had informed him, when Jin Guangyao could not tell him the answers to any pf his questions; not his name, or the date, or where they were.

A fancy young master in white-and-gold robes, who introduces himself as Jin Zixuan, is the one who sits by his side and tells Jin Guangyao the basics of his life. There is such an obvious lack of detail that it leaves him intrigued. And Jin Zixuan looks ashamed when Jin Guangyao asked if he was Jin Zixuan’s uncle. “No, I’m your older brother,” he says. “We… we share a birthday, but you’re a day younger.”

Jin Guangyao watches him for a moment, and wonders at the source of his brother’s shame. “I’m a bastard, aren’t I?” he asks.

“My father legitimized you!” Jin Zixuan protests. “You’re my brother.”

Jin Guangyao smiles at him. This man is clearly naïve, but has no ill-intent. The man who had named Jin Guangyao Jin Guangyao, however? He is yet to ascertain that.

Jin Guangyao’s memory doesn’t return within the first week. With his head injury healed, though, he’s allowed to leave the infirmary which allows him to collect a lot more useful data.

There is a lot of work piled up in his room. Disorganized, as if someone had gone through it to take the important paperwork to work on while he is <infirm>. That he was assigned so much work that was non-essential makes him wonder if he was actually pretty low on the social ladder, here. He goes through all of them anyway, most of it is useful information, painting a picture of Jin sect’s activities, and the sorts of projects that they allow to drag on for weeks. Jin Guangyao has left meticulous notes in a separate notebook about how to put everything into a more sensible order. That such reworking was required

His accessories, or lack-there-of, are even more enlightening. There’s also a scholarly-sort of hat, and only a few cheap hair ribbons. Nothing at all like the intricate jade hairpins or crowns with intricate metalwork and precious stones that Jin Zixuan and Jin Zixun wore daily.

Jin Guangyao’s place here is… obvious.

He wonders who the man who had picked him up after his injury, was. No one tells him, not even Jin Zixuan, he just pats Jin Guangyao’s hand and says, “Don’t worry, you’re safe now.” The implications of that are obvious, of course, that the stranger was the one who had hurt him. And yet it’s a subject no one speaks of, of how Jin Guangyao had fallen down the thousand steps of Koi Tower, and he hadn’t asked after the first two times. He stays wary, watching everyone. Someone had tried to kill him, and he doesn’t even remember which of his acquaintances might want him dead.

Lan Xichen arrives two days after his release from the infirmary, Lan-Zongzhu, according to everyone else. He’s beautiful, the most beautiful person that Jin Guangyao has ever seen. Since he remembers all of a week, this doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Jin Guangyao could probably search for decades and not find anyone more beautiful. It would not be fair.

They have tea together, after Lan Xichen – “Call me er-ge, you are my sworn brother, A-Yao,” – has checked him over worriedly, and checked his meridians, and pressed his fingertips gently to the back of Jin Guangyao’s head, to where his head injury had been, and ascertained that he truly is well.

“They did not tell me you were injured,” he says. “Da-ge had to, and this is the week of new students for the summer lectures, I could not leave. Jin Zixuan promised me you were well, though,” he says. Sincerity shines through him, and Jin Guangyao wonders what on earth he, an unwelcome child in his own family, could have done to make this man care for him.

So he asks.

Lan Xichen describes a heroic young man, who gave him shelter when he needed it most, who had smiled and laughed at him, and helped him with chores he could not do, and gave him the strength to fight a war. Lan Xichen tells him that this kind young man had gone into a war that did not affect him, only to help, that he had turned spy against a raging mad man, and finally taken off his head.

“So that is why my father took me in,” says Jin Guangyao. There’s a flicker of pain on Lan Xichen’s face as Jin Guangyao tells him what he’s surmised about how he’s treated here. “Did you know?” asks Jin Guangyao.

“I suspected,” Lan Xichen says softly. “But you were too proud to tell me. You insisted you were happy here. I visited when I could, but I never… I’m so sorry.”

Jin Guangyao reaches out to pat Lan Xichen’s hand, it feels so familiar, even if Jin Guangyao can’t remember doing it before. He must have, Lan Xichen’s sad face cannot be borne. “I’m sure I didn’t want to bother you, er-ge. You’re overworking yourself even now.” The signs are there, even behind his flawless composure. “You look so tired.”

“I had to come,” says Lan Xichen. “I was so scared that you…” He trails off, then turns his hand, holding onto him tightly. “If you don’t remember your place at Koi tower, do you want to return with me until your memory recovers? We’re still reconstructing, but Cloud Rececsses is still an excellent place to ”

“This Jin Guangyao is honoured, but what if it doesn’t?” asks Jin Guangyao practically. “I can’t just leave my home like that.” More quietly, he adds, “There must have been some reason I didn’t leave before.”

“You never said, exactly, but I believe it was because of your mother,” says Lan Xichen. “She wished that you would gain your father’s recognition, and a place at Koi Tower.”

“Do you know anything about her?” Jin Guangyao is not an idiot, he knows from the snide remarks, the way that people try not to touch him that he is of low birth, that his mother’s occupation was. That. He wonders if Lan Xichen will lie to him.

“She was an educated woman,” he says. “A renowned beauty. You’ve told me that you take after her, in many ways. She was skilled in the arts. She never taught you art but she was your master in calligraphy and music. She loved you very much and wanted you to have a good education because she knew… she knew that A-Yao is so incredibly smart and destined for greater things.” He squeezes Jin Guangyao’s hand. “Her life was not easy. She suffered, but she loved you. She would be proud of you, to know how much you achieved.”

It should matter, it does matter, Jin Guangyao’s heart squeezes, but it is from sympathy for what Lan Xichen is feeling. The dark honey-gold eyes are bright with tears. Clearly Jin Guangyao had loved her very much, before. But Jin Guangyao cannot find in him any love for a woman that Jin Guangyao cannot imagine. A woman with his face, a prostitute, but educated, talented. And ambitious to have Jin Guangshan’s son.

“My father did not take her in, I gather?”

“He did not. She died of illness shortly before I met you.”

“Thank you for telling me,” says Jin Guangyao.

Lan Xichen stays an entire afternoon, and readies himself to leave at dusk. Jin Guangyao accompanies him to the sky-pavilion on Koi Tower that the Jin disciples use to take off from.

There’s a last nagging question that Jin Guangyao hadn’t managed to slide into the conversation, as it meandered into cultivation theory and Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen had tried to piece out some kind of pattern in what kinds of cultivation knowledge he had retained, and what he had forgotten. It had been an interesting exercise.

“Er-ge, before you go,” says Jin Guangyao. He looks around cautiously, but no one is near enough to overhear. “You’re older than Jin Zixuan, aren’t you?” he asks, and Lan Xichen nods. “So our da-ge… you never said. Is he… did he die during the war?”

“No!” cries Lan Xichen. “A-Yao no, he’s not. He’s fine, he just could not find time to visit.”

Lie.

It’s the first time Lan Xichen has lied to him today, but Jin Guangyao is certain of it.

“No one talks about him, and I couldn’t find any letters from him. I did find a few of yours. No one even says his name. Who is he?”

“Nie Mingjue,” says Lan Xichen, sounding defeated. “Of course you would think to ask, but his name is Nie Mingjue.”

Everything falls into place. Jin Guangyao has seen some Nie disciple couriers on their way to private meetings with his father and the Jin council of elders. Hard faced and angry looking, they kept to themselves and departed the moment they could, without staying for a meal or entertainment.

“You think he pushed me down the stairs,” says Jin Guangyao.

“No,” says Lan Xichen. “We know he did. He kicked you down the stairs. He–”

“And you believe that?” asks Jin Guangyao.

“Of course I do,” says Lan Xichen. “Da-ge was the one who told me. I knew that things were difficult between the two of you, recently, but I had not imagined… It does not matter, we are looking through the records now, so that you can be free of your vows to him, and even if we can’t find something, he won’t visit Koi Tower again, Jin-zongzhu has forbidden it.”

“Oh,” says Jin Guangyao, mind whirring. “Okay then.”

“Is A-Yao afraid we’re covering something up?” asks Lan Xichen. Jin Guangyao is not sure what gave it away, he thought he’d kept his face smooth.

“Naturally I trust er-ge,” he says, smiling up at him. “I just remember him, vaguely. He picked me up. He saved me.”

It’s Jin Guangyao’s first memory, pained and fragmented though it is.

“He did take you up to the infirmary right after,” Lan Xichen agrees. He looks faintly puzzled, like he’s not sure why that matters to Jin Guangyao.

“I understand,” says Jin Guangyao. “Nie-zongzhu would of course regret his action after his moment of anger.”

“He does,” Lan Xichen assures him. “You should write to him, if you are willing to accept his apologies, but Da-ge is terribly sorry.”

“Thank you er-ge, I will,” Jin Guangyao promises. The relief on Lan Xichen’s face is too pure for this world.

He waves goodbye after Lan Xichen takes off, and steps back into the maze of Koi Tower, mulling over all the new knowledge that Lan Xichen had brought with him. He was right, he should write to Nie Mingjue.

But after some more research.

What could they have possibly quarrelled about so badly?

Jin Guangyao makes his way back to his rooms, keeping his face expressionless at the gilded opulence and overt unfriendliness of his home. He doesn’t understand his past self at all.

Why does he still live here, where he’s so clearly unwanted?

Why did he even care for the acknowledgement of Jin Guangshan, who from even just Jin Guangyao’s few interactions this week and the gossip he’s picked up, is a selfish, disgusting pervert who wouldn’t spit on Jin Guangyao if he was on fire.

Just because his mother wanted him to?

She was a good woman, he hears again, in Lan Xichen’s sincere voice. But Jin Guangyao doesn’t get it. She had to have been a fool, to believe in Jin Guangshan, or terribly cold and cruel to send him to Jin Guangshan knowing exactly what kind of derision would await him here. He is a war hero, and yet he’s treated like a servant.

Jin Guangyao is in the mood to be charitable, so he picks the former.

He still doesn’t know why he stayed.

[You can now read part 2 here!]

#meng yao #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #lan xichen #3zun #fix-it #JGY revaluating his own life objectively #amnesia #the fictional kind

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shoutogepi · 4 years ago

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A Million Times Over, part 1

┌────── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ──────┐

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Todoroki Shouto x American!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 11.3k holy shit this is so long guys. fuck.

[ ☀︎, ☁︎, ✘ (nsfw!) ] (series warnings)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : some NSFW themes but no actual smut. a lot of pining and angst. some cute moments too tho!

𝐛𝐢𝐨 : You lose all memories from the past five years of your life due to an accident-induced coma, including any recollection of your beloved boyfriend and fellow pro-hero, Shouto. He’s devastated that you don’t remember him, but the both of you are determined to get your memories back, no matter how long it takes. In the meantime, you attempt to rebuild your relationship with him… while also nurturing the spark that’s still very much lit between you two.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : Originally I intended for this to just be a long fic… but even for my standards, this would be wayyy too long to be just in one post. I decided to split the fic into three instead, so this will be the first part of my very first multi-chap series, A Million Times Over, for my beloved Sho <3

𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : big thank you to my sweet friend @todoscript for beta-reading this for me and hyping me up!! love you, can’t wait to read what you have in the works soon <3

└────── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ──────┘

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

“.../n”

…

“.. y/n…”

…

🅃he buzzing noise in your ears sharpened. White light snuck between your eyelids and you groaned, fingers reaching toward your temple. Confusion burst forth as you recognized foreign, plastic tubing connected to your skin, your eyes opening wider as you began to register your surroundings.

You were in a hospital room. To be more exact, you were in the bed in the middle of the hospital room— meaning, you were the patient. The realization shocked you, and you jolted upright abruptly, suddenly all too aware of the tubes stuck up your nose. At your sudden movement, large, warm hands landed on your arms and rubbed at your skin gently, making your attention turn to the person sitting at your bedside.

“Y/n? Hey, you’re okay, love, it's alright. You’re safe, I’ve got you.” His voice was smooth and deep, an anchor for you to grab onto in the midst of your confusion.

You were gawking, staring straight at him— you couldn't help it. Your jaw was probably hanging open, gaping like a fish at the man before you. What were you in the hospital for exactly— had you gone insane and dreamed this situation up?

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Sh-Shouto Todoroki,” you mumbled, gaze connected with his tired but bright, heterochromatic orbs. His brow furrowed and his head tilted slightly at your courteous acknowledgement, but he brushed it aside and smiled at you instead.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you took in his form beside you. He was tall— you could tell even though he was seated— and he was more handsome than you’d ever imagined, somewhere in his mid-to-late twenties judging by the sharp, masculine features of his face.

“Y/n…,” he breathed out, a large, calloused hand coming up to cup your jaw. Then he pulled you into a hug, his strong, muscular arms wrapping around your torso and cradling the back of your head to press you into his chest. He smelled of clean laundry and winter, a crisp, fresh scent that made an unknown comfort blossom in your chest.

Slowly you placed an arm around his neck, your other hand laying limp on the sheets as it was still connected to the IV. You rubbed his back slightly, still dazed by your apparent situation. Looking outside the open window in the corner of the room, you realized it was daytime; yellow sunlight beaming into the room and pouring onto the tiled floor. There were vases of flowers all around the room, as well as stuffed animals, cards, and balloons that all wished for your health and speedy recovery.

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” Shouto whispered into your shoulder, still holding you tight in his embrace. His voice was still low, but this time it shook with profound emotion. “I missed you… so much.”

Your body felt relaxed in his arms, even though your brain was whirring a thousand miles a minute. You had no clue how you’d ended up in the hospital, who sent you all these gifts, where you even were geographically, and most importantly, why Shouto Todoroki was holding onto you like you meant the world to him. You patted his back stiffly and he let go of you just enough to move his face in front of yours. His eyes held such love and relief, the emotions as clear as day that butterflies ruptured from your stomach. As if his expression wasn’t enough to get your heart racing, he leaned forward and captured your lips, pressing his mouth to yours in a firm but sweet kiss.

It only lasted for a minute, but it was enough to have your heart rate monitor start beeping rapidly, noisily chiming at the other side of your bed. His face was so perfect and smooth up close— you couldn’t close your eyes as you took in his astonishing beauty. Sure, you’d imagined he would be perfect… but in person, here before you, he was indescribable. The man of your dreams. And a good kisser, too.

A nurse rushed into the room, seemingly out of breath. When she caught sight of the two of you, your lips locked, and Shouto holding you so tenderly, she let out an awkward cough and pawed at her scrubs, averting her eyes as she approached your bedside. Shouto pulled away, only to plant a soft kiss on the very tip of your nose before leaning back into his seat. He had a wide smile on his lips, content-crinkled eyes settled on you as his hand enveloped yours.

“So you’re awake!” the nurse stated excitedly, busying around with the beeping machine, managing to shut the blasted thing off. “How are you feeling? Any pain, discomfort?”

You glanced at Shouto, who smiled at you warmly and squeezed your hand. If that heart rate machine was still on, surely it would be going haywire again. “Uhh, I think I’m okay… just kinda groggy,” you replied truthfully, your voice coming out hoarse. You cleared your throat and she handed you a small cup of water, which you took gratefully. You continued on after taking a few sips, the liquid cooling your irritated throat. “No pain, but I’m a little… confused, to be honest.”

“I’m sure you are, hon,” the nurse said, giving you a smile full of understanding. It made you feel a little less on edge, and you gave her a half-hearted smile back. “You were in a bad accident almost a month ago. You suffered some head trauma, and you’ve been in a coma ever since. You also had two bruised ribs, and some minor surface wounds. The cuts are all gone now, and your ribs should be almost all healed by now as well, but if you have any discomfort on your left side here,” she gestured to your ribs and continued, “just let me know. I’ll page your doctor and we’ll do a quick check-up on you in just a minute!”

You nodded slowly, the gears turning in your head. You were in an accident, and then a coma for a whole month? It all seemed so crazy to you— you can’t remember a single thing leading up to your supposed accident. Head trauma… you weren’t usually the type to get hurt, and you’d never been in a coma before. “Umm… what kind of accident was it?” you asked, looking between Shouto and the nurse, not really directing the question to either of them specifically.

“You were flung into a cement pillar during a fight, love. The blow was mostly on your side, hence your bruised ribs… but your head smacked into the pillar secondarily,” Shouto replied, his smile disappearing as an unfamiliar bitterness washed over his handsome face. “We were battling together and you were knocked unconscious instantly… you’ve been asleep ever since.”

“A fight..?” you frowned, tilting your head in confusion. “We were fighting, and you threw me against a… cement pillar?”

Shouto looked horrified at your misunderstanding, adamantly shaking his head and making his soft, two-toned hair shine in the sunlight. “No, I would never hurt you— the villain did, baby. I incapacitated them right after,” he paused, eyes casting downwards and his free hand forming into a fist at the memory, “but the damage had already been done...”

That sounded right… your job was herowork, you could at least recall that. But you didn’t think you’d ever fought beside a hero as great and renowned as Japan’s famed dual-tempered Shouto. Sure, you’d been doing your best to climb the American hero leaderboard, but you weren’t by any means at the top yet. “Umm… can you tell me.. why we were fighting a villain together, exactly?”

Shouto looked directly at you, his brow furrowing before he looked to the nurse on the other side of your bed. They shared a look, and you shuffled uncomfortably in the cotton sheets pulled up to your waist, unease sitting like a rock in your stomach.

“Y/N, can you tell me what you remember before the accident?” Shouto asked slowly, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction. There was a sliver of something else in his voice now, a hint of urgency in his request.

You looked between him and the nurse hesitantly, racking your brain for anything you could think of. “Uhh… I don’t… I don’t remember, I— I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright hon, don’t worry. It’s common to have some confusion after just waking up from a coma. We can try an easier question. Let’s see… do you know your birthday?”

You responded instantly, and there was the tiniest amount of relief on Shouto’s face at your correct response.

“Your mother’s maiden name?”

You got that one right too, Shouto’s thumb rubbing over your knuckles soothingly in silent praise.

“How about your phone number?”

You took a second to think of it, but you answered that one too. The nurse looked over at Shouto to see his reaction, and so did you. But Shouto was frowning at you, making dread drip into your veins. “That’s your US number, love… what’s your Japanese number?”

You looked at him incredulously. “My Japanese number? Why would I need a Japanese number?” you inquired, thinking this must have been some kind of trick question.

The nurse and Shouto shared a more serious look, and Shouto swallowed as he looked away from you, turning toward the window instead. You squeezed at his hand but he didn’t respond, so you turned to the nurse instead, confused now more than ever.

“I don’t understand…,” you mumbled, hoping for some clarification from her. She smiled at you, but this time it did not reach her eyes.

“You’re in Japan, hon. You’re speaking Japanese right now… and you’re also one of the top heroes in Japan, just like your boyfriend here.”

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

The next few days passed by in a blur. The hospital staff was all very kind and hospitable, but it still felt like you had woken up in the middle of someone else’s life. Even though your body was yours, and you looked just the same, you couldn’t help the unease that lingered from your imposter syndrome.

You had gone through so many tests and check-ups that they all blended together at this point. You had been poked, prodded, and quizzed the entire time since you’d woken up from your coma. There were so many different tests regarding your memory that your brain felt like melted jelly by now, and your frustration was at an all-time high.

Shouto had gotten up and left the room shortly after the nurse informed you of your situation. Your heart felt heavy for him— he seemed so excited, so relieved that you were finally awake— and this was the devastating reality that he was left to face. After patiently waiting at your bedside for weeks, this was the bitter pill he had to swallow when you had finally come-to… you imagined that he was not eager to confront such a terrible twist of fate. Yet he had come back into your room half an hour later, eyes suspiciously puffy and pink, and his nose a little stuffy, but nonetheless, he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles, squeezing even tighter than before. Even though you barely knew him, his presence made you feel safe, and you were glad to have him by your side.

Between your numerous mental tests and check-ins, the conversation between the two of you was surprisingly easy. He was patient with you, and kind. Apparently, you’d first met him in America at a hero convention about five years ago, and you started dating after a year and a half of being friends. Your memory had been completely wiped of the past five years, leaving your Japanese friends, coworkers, and dedicated boyfriend all in the dark. According to Shouto, you had befriended many of the top heroes in Japan, seeing as they were also your colleagues. It turned out that the numerous flower arrangements scattered about your room were from these heroes, as well as fans… though a good amount were from the heterochromatic man himself.

Shouto took care of you during your days at the hospital. He talked to the doctor after your check-ins, pulling them aside and conversing in hushed voices in the hallway just outside your door. He called your family for you and flew them out, only adding to the chaos in your hospital room. He told all of your Japanese friends and acquaintances to stay away for now, knowing that meeting them would probably just overwhelm and guilt you. And each day he would bring you a treat that you would inevitably love, proving to you that he really did know you, and that he knew your preferences and even your favorite boba order. He probably would have stayed by your bedside even through each night, but you insisted he go home and sleep in a proper bed. You already felt bad enough that he was taking a hiatus from hero work until you recovered… you didn’t need to add his future back issues to your already guilty conscience.

You found yourself enjoying your time with him. You knew who he was— you had certainly heard of him during your previous hero work that you actually remembered. You kept it to yourself that you had harbored an embarrassingly large crush on him, though. You figured he probably knew that, seeing as he was your boyfriend of three and a half years… no need to bring it up! But now that your memory had reverted back to your mental state five years ago… you inevitably had feelings for the pro hero, and you weren’t sure if he either couldn’t tell how he affected you, or if he was just being polite. Whatever the case, there was still a spark between the two of you. Even though all the progress of your relationship had been erased on your side, each day your feelings only grew for the selfless, charming, and witty half-and-half man. So much so, that you would now reach out for his hand when he would enter your room each morning, and he would smile at you and slip his fingers between yours, no matter how much it hurt to restrain himself from showing you more affection.

After about a week, you were cleared to go home. Your nurse, who you had come to know as Akari, told you that the doctor had originally wanted to keep you for longer… but that Shouto was such a doting beau that they had given you the express go-ahead, knowing you would be in the highest of care.

Your memory was still not restored, though you had started to remember odd things here and there. Like how to use your phone— it was the newest model and far from the technology you were familiar with five years ago, but you opened the device and navigated it expertly on your first go. The doctor said that that was a good sign, though it could just be muscle memory... but Shouto still gave you a small smile of encouragement. Next was when you had asked Shouto to bring you your favorite moisturizer, a Japanese brand, and you just mentioned it so casually in conversation that you would have blown right over it had Shouto not pointed it out to you. You were recalling little, mundane things here and there, but never anything big— no people, no places. No distinct memories.

Akari assured you many times that as long as you kept working at it, your memories would return. She always said it when you were frustrated— she could tell your moods and she could see how hard you were trying. But she also said it when you were doing fine, and that was when you knew she was saying it more to Shouto than anything. You were glad to have her there, because even though Shouto was there for you physically, he kept most of his emotions sealed off from you… and it was hard for you to read him. Akari was an excellent nurse, and you felt blessed to have been taken care of by her. But a tiny, minuscule part of you was jealous that she could tell how he was feeling, while you were left in the dark.

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

You sighed as the car door clicked shut, feeling apprehensive. The vehicle that Shouto had driven to the hospital today is sleek, shiny, and foreign. You had no clue what model it was, but you knew it must have been expensive— the interior was framed with a polished wood that complimented the peanut-butter color of the leather seats and steering wheel. Shouto slipped into the drivers’ side next to you, offering you a small smile as he clicked his seatbelt into place.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, pausing before he turned the ignition. The car purred to life, a welcome screen popping up in the middle of the console.

You thought it over for a moment before answering, watching as he slid the parking ticket out from under the overhead visor. “A little… I think excited is a better word for it, though.”

Shouto’s smile broadened just a tad, his hand reaching over the center console and squeezing yours briefly. “Me too,” he murmured, eyes locked with yours for just a moment too long before his arm propped back against the corner of your seat, and he reversed out of the parking spot. You couldn’t help but admire his chiseled jawline as he did so, eyes flitting away quickly when he caught your lingering gaze.

The drive from the hospital to your home wasn’t long, and you were thankful that was the case— you’d have definitely felt even guiltier if he’d been driving for a long time all these days to come and see you. The city distracted you along the way, bustling and bright as ever, and your eyes were wide with wonder as you took in the colorful displays littering the streets and storefronts. Everything— everyone just seemed so alive; it was impossible to keep the smile from your face.

At one red light in particular, you saw a cat cafe, zoning in on a particularly pudgy cat snoozing at the top of the cat tree in the window. You giggled and pointed it out to Shouto, glancing over at him to see if he was looking, and the softest smile was on his lips as his eyes gazed deeply into yours. You held his stare for a moment and then looked away again, flustered and your cheeks feeling warm as you cleared your throat.

It was then that you noticed his hand lying atop the center of the console, tempting you to reach out and lace your fingers with his, like you had done so many times at the hospital. But it felt different without the safety of the white walls and medical equipment you had grown to know, somehow scarier— like he might reject you for whatever reason. You chose to keep your hands to yourself for now.

“It seems like you’re curious about the city,” he said as silence settled between the pair of you, the only noise in the cabin of the vehicle being the low melody from the radio.

You shrugged and hummed in agreement, eyes now glued to the other side of the window as countless people and businesses whizz by. “I like to know the city I’m protecting,” you answered, leaning back against the headrest. “It makes me feel more connected to the people that live here… the people we’re helping when we do our jobs. Y’know?”

Shouto nodded, humming his own agreement. “Yeah… I know what you mean,” he replied. After a short pause, he turned to you, waiting for another red light to turn green. “Maybe we can come out in disguise sometime… if that would interest you. I can show you around, we can have a little adventure.”

You visibly perked up at his suggestion, your grin making his heart flutter suddenly in his chest. “Yes! I would love that!” you beamed at him and he smiled back at you, the faintest hint of a blush dusting his cheeks.

You bit your lip as he turned back toward the road, the car shifting forward as he pressed the gas at the green signal. He was trying… so you had to, too.

“But only if we go together, okay?” You reached over and took his hand before you could chicken out. His fingers fit perfectly in between yours, and your cheeks felt hot again as you gazed intently at your intertwined hands.

Shouto let out a little breath of surprise at your action, but his fingers curled tightly around yours in under a second. “Of course… love.”

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

Shouto had sent your family home, despite their protests. The doctor’s orders were for you to resume life as you normally would— apparently, that would be the quickest way for you to regain your memories. The verdict was much to your parents’ dismay, but they understood that it was the fastest means for you to return to, well, you. So they left Shouto to take care of you, and he insisted that once your memories came back, he would fly them back out to see you again, or the two of you would come to them.

Though technically he was a stranger to you, he was the closest thing to home in the strange storm of your memory loss. He had been there for you every step of the way, every day. He tended to your every need, and he even anticipated your needs before you were aware of them. That didn’t change once you arrived at your shared apartment.

If you could even call it that.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled when Shouto unlocked the door for you, gesturing for you to enter first. Your jaw was on the herringbone-patterned, hardwood floor as your eyes wandered around the entryway, taking in every design detail you came across. You barely managed to take off your shoes before you were peeking your head into the bathroom next to the entry hallway, inspecting the clean and gorgeously-furnished half-bath.

Shouto chuckled and closed the door behind him, making sure to turn the lock as he set his keys into a porcelain bowl beside the door. “Go explore, I think you’ll like what you see,” he said amusedly, a half-smirk on his pink lips as he eyed you. Your starstruck expression only grew as you padded into the open space of the living room.

A long, cushy sofa and chaise stood before the huge flat-screen that was nestled into an elegant built-in, shelves filled with books you knew and loved and ones you didn’t recognize, too. Game consoles lined the shelf below the plasma screen, and your toes curled into the fuzzy rug underfoot as you gaped at the room. Everything— even the curtains and the coasters on the coffee table— was exactly in your taste. You felt like you were in wonderland. Had you fallen down a rabbit hole and this was the magical, heavenly place you had landed in? Clearly this had to be a dream, right? You woke up as Todoroki Shouto’s long-time girlfriend, and apparently you lived here, with him?

Goddamn.

The kitchen, laundry room, main bath, office, bedroom, and master bath all fit your taste exactly the same. Only the second office and spare bedroom seemed a little out of place— they were more of a traditional Japanese design, but even though it was different, you did not mind. Even the runner on the staircase— who had a staircase in their apartment, by the way?!— was in a pleasing color and pattern. There was even a decently sized home gym, with various equipment and machines and a mirror running the length of the entire wall. By the end of your expedition, you were simply at a loss for words. You found Shouto sitting on one of the stools at the marble island that separated the kitchen and the living room, busy combing through some manila files.

“Umm,” you started, catching his attention.

He looked up at you, propping his chin onto his hand as his elbow rested on the counter. One brow quirked up, he grinned slyly at your outright astonishment. “Well?” he prompted, sitting up and rolling his neck, then stretching his broad shoulders. “What do you think?”

You try not to linger on the way the muscles rippled underneath his tight, crisp shirt, playing off your silence as shock. “It’s uh… perfect? I live here? I actually live here, right? You’re not pulling my leg?”

Shouto chuckled and shook his head. “I would never, love. Well, I have before, but no— I’m not right now. You live here. We live here. It’s all ours.”

You laughed giddily, unable to contain your excitement. Shouto smiled fondly at you, your grin infectious as your eyes wandered around the kitchen once more.

“Snack pantry is behind that door,” he nodded his head to the side and your eyes grew even starrier. He couldn’t help the laugh that trickled out of him at your instant footsteps— you were still you, after all. He knew all the ways to your heart very well, and one of them was most definitely through food.

“Woah.” Your mouth hung open once again at the rows of snacks and foods that greeted your gaze when you opened the door, the light flicking on automatically. Your eyes danced over the labels, recognizing many of your favorite flavors throughout the variety. “We could survive a whole year off of this stuff, Shouto.”

You stiffened when an arm wrapped around your middle, his front pressing up against your back as his chin fell onto your shoulder. That same comforting scent encircled you, but this time it was mixed with a subtle, woodsy aroma that made your mouth water.

Shouto breathed softly into your hair, the tip of his nose brushing the side of your neck. “I stocked up for your return, love.” He took another leisurely deep breath before he pulled back, his arm falling from your body and leaving you surprisingly cold without his touch. “Wanted you to have everything you could possibly desire.”

Your eyes inspected the pattern on the hardwood floor as he stepped away from you, your arm crossing over your front to grab onto your bicep nervously. Letting out a small laugh, you replied, “Yeah, I think you covered all the bases…”

He only hummed as he returned to his seat, sliding on a pair of thin metal glasses you hadn’t seen him take off before. You couldn’t help but think he looked incredibly handsome like this— a rare, domestic sight for only your eyes to enjoy. “Sorry I can’t entertain you at the moment,” he said, that analytical gaze locking onto you once more. “My agency asked me to look over these cases and I just have to finish them up— I’m technically on leave, but I still want to help out when I can. I only need another half hour or so. Feel free to help yourself to anything you like. This is your home, after all.”

You smiled and nodded, rolling back and forth on the balls of your feet. “Alright, I’ll try not to bother you.” Shouto frowned at your wording, but you carried on anyway. “I think I’ll poke around our room and see if I can find something that triggers a memory.” Your acknowledgement of your shared bedroom seemed to put him at ease, and with that, you grabbed a strawberry-flavored snack from the pantry before making your way past him, roaming over to the bedroom.

“You can go through my things if you want, too!” He called from behind you, having already made your way to the stairs. Choosing not to reply to his invitation, you hopped up the steps and quietly closed the door to your bedroom, hands landing on your hips. Inspecting the room from left to right, you decided to go through the toiletries in the master bath before anything else.

Before you could move even a foot in the direction of the en-suite, a furry creature darted out from underneath the bed skirt and dashed toward you. You gasped in delight at the gorgeous visage of the long-haired cat— she had bright blue eyes and fine white fur, her coat streaked with gray here and there. The cat meowed cutely and curled around your ankle, rubbing her head against your leg affectionately.

You immediately crouched down and lowered yourself to her level, fingers eagerly diving into her soft fur and offering a good scratch behind the ears. “Hi gorgeous,” you cooed, the animal mewling back at you in response. Your fingers found her collar and you flipped over the tag, reading her name with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Yuki.”

Heart softened at the thought of Shouto owning such a pretty creature, you gave her a good long rub before you decided to move on to your quest at hand. The creature followed closely behind, twisting in between your legs as you entered the en-suite.

The bathroom was large and luxurious, just what you would expect from a pro-hero of Shouto’s standing. It occurred to you that you too, were a hero of such regard, which must explain why you could afford all the lavish things you came across while combing through the closets and cabinetry.

You went through countless skincare products, face masks, makeup items, and bathing goods on what you presumed was your side of the double sink before you peeked into Shouto’s drawers. You fingered through his hygienic products, mumbling to yourself in surprise when you came across skincare items whose existence most men would not even be aware of. You shrugged and figured that you just must be an excellent girlfriend and teacher, assuming he used them correctly.

Eventually you found his shaving items, eyes scanning the labels until you find his aftershave. Shrugging, you took the cap off, giving a tentative sniff before you realized that must be what you smelled on him earlier, when he’d pressed up against you from behind and nuzzled into your neck. You bit your lip as you recalled how his arm felt around your waist, his nose on your throat. It had felt so intimate, and oddly… natural.

It was the most contact you’d had with him so far. While you were at the hospital, he would hold your hand. Besides that first moment when you had just woken up— when he hugged and kissed you, and the fireworks that had gone off had been then overshadowed by the horrific realization that your memory had been wiped— the half-hug just twenty minutes ago was the only time he had initiated further physical contact with you.

You frowned. It wasn’t like you’d been super affectionate toward him, either. Sure, you had reached out for his hand at the hospital, and you took it again during the car ride home… but now that it was just the two of you, alone in your home… it felt different. Maybe that was why Shouto had asked if you felt nervous when you were in the car, following your discharge from the hospital only an hour ago. Had he seen it coming— this potential pitfall in the reconstruction of your relationship? You wondered how he felt about all of this, but you were too shy to ask him so directly. Not when you barely knew him.

“Missed me so much you’re sniffing my cologne?”

You froze and glanced up at the mirror, Shouto’s reflection smirking at you from his leaned position against the doorway. Your cheeks immediately went warm and fuzzy again as you capped the glass bottle, carefully placing it back into its drawer before looking over your shoulder to him. A glance at the clock on the wall revealed it had been forty minutes; you must have gotten swept up in examining your beauty products.

He didn't have his glasses on anymore, and he had changed into a solid-colored t-shirt, the crisp button-down he’d donned earlier nowhere to be seen. Damn it… you had missed your chance to ogle at him with his shirt off. At your silence, his smirk melted into a small smile, stepping forward and joining your sitting form on the heated-tile floor. “Don’t worry, I’ve done the same to your perfume before as well,” he murmured as he reached toward the drawer on your far side, his arm brushing against your back as he searched for the glass vial. “You can try it, too. It’s the most recent addition to your collection, and I personally am very partial to its scent.”

The contact made you swallow, your gaze flicking over to his. He was looking at the various perfume bottles in the drawer, though, giving you the chance to inspect his face as his hair fell forward, soft locks of red and white splaying across his forehead. He was so breathtaking up close like this… your gaze dropped to his lips. God, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to feel those lips on yours again, to be in his arms and to be held as tenderly as you were that first day you awoke.

“Oh right,” he chuckled, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. “I brought it into the spare room the other day… Must’ve forgot to put it back.” He leaned back, ending the accidental physical contact with you.

You looked at him quizzically. “The spare room? Can I ask why?”

Shouto blushed and your heart thudded in your chest. Oh crap, he was so cute with his cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah… I’ve been sleeping in there since the accident. It just feels…,” he paused as he searched for the right word, eyes avoiding yours, “wrong… to be in our bed without you.”

Your own cheeks warmed at that, his confession pulling at your heartstrings. “So the perfume..?”

His cheeks darkened a few shades, the hand on his neck rubbing harder at his skin. “Ah, that’s… honestly kind of… embarrassing to explain.”

You reached out so your hand covered his, and Shouto sighed as he allowed your fingers to slide in between his. “Can I guess? Will you tell me if I’m right?” He nodded at that, deciding it was better if he didn't have to say it. “You spray my perfume onto a pillow at night and snuggle up with it?”

Shouto’s eyes widened at your immediate response, swallowing before he let out a stiff laugh and a nod. “Yeah, that’s exactly right… kind of lame, isn’t it?”

Shaking your head, you smiled gently at him. “No, I think it’s sweet. It’s just what I would do if you were away, too.”

There’s a shocked silence that filled the bathroom then, Shouto’s wide eyes fixed on you for a long, intense moment. Eventually you broke eye contact, looking to the floor with an awkward smile.

“And you don’t have to do that tonight…” you offered quietly. “If you want, I mean… you can sleep in here.”

“Is that where you’ll be sleeping?”

You looked back at him, surprised by his instant reply. “Y-Yeah, I think so…”

“Alright,” he conceded, his blank face melting into a warm smile. “Then that’s where I’ll sleep, too.”

You returned the gesture, pleased to have made him happy. “Will you be spraying me with perfume before we tuck in?” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“No,” Shouto answered seriously, the smile dropping from his face, “your natural scent is a thousand times better than any perfume, love. I’ve missed it lingering on our sheets.”

Cheeks warmed for what seemed like the thousandth time today, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and smiled, unsure of what to say. “Aha okay… well, I think you smell pretty good, too.”

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

Shouto originally wanted to order in from your favorite restaurant for dinner, but you managed to sweet talk him into allowing you to cook instead. After about a week of feeling completely worthless, it was nice to have something you could finally, actually do.

The refrigerator was just as stocked as the pantry, so after analyzing the plethora of ingredients at your disposal, you decided on a meal and set off, gathering all the things you’d need in an excited hurry. Just as you were about to start washing vegetables, Shouto slipped an apron over your head, steady hands drawing the ties together at the bottom of your spine. The garment fit you perfectly, intricate design in your favorite color. You thanked him as you glanced over your shoulder, grinning up at him.

There was a somewhat somber look in his eyes, a halfhearted smile just barely curving his lips before he nodded and moved away, retreating back to the other side of the counter where he’s staked out to watch you work. He’d offered to help— numerous times, actually— but you told him to just sit back and relax. You wanted to do something for the tired man, even if it was as small as putting together a meal.

It didn't take long for you to get into a rhythm. Chopping the vegetables and preparing the other ingredients came naturally to you, and you found yourself enjoying the process. It was something familiar, which was very much welcome.

“Do we cook a lot?” you inquired, raising your voice a bit so Shouto could hear you over the sizzling pan in front of you.

He was leaning on the countertop again— he must’ve known he looked delicious like that or something— and he glanced over at you from the open book he was reading. “Mm, when we have time. It’s not that we don’t enjoy it, but usually we’re both very busy. It’s normal for us to leave early, and return home late.”

You nodded in understanding, grinding fresh peppercorns above the skillet and giving the contents a stir.

“I like everything you cook for me, though.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, stealing a look over at him. While your cooking had improved since your teenage years, it wasn’t like you were a chef by any means. “Everything? You’re just trying to be sweet on me.”

The corner of his mouth curled up. “Maybe… is it working?”

The sound of the food crackling from a drizzle of oil filled the kitchen for a beat, and you stared at the wilting greens before you, unable to bring yourself to look at him. “Yeah, I think it’s working…”

There was another pause in conversation, this one less stifling than before. This time, Shouto broke the ice. “Even though we’re busy people, we always have a date every Friday… It’s the highlight of my week.” His voice sounded gloomier than just a moment ago, but when you chanced a look over at him, he was smiling slightly, staring at a cabinet and seemingly off in his own memories.

You wondered which memory he was going over particularly, but didn’t want to intrude his recollection, so you focused on stirring the pan instead. Tapping your phone on the counter next to you just to make sure, your eyes flitted over today’s date.

Thursday.

“Tomorrow’s a Friday,” you mentioned, trying to be casual, despite your heartbeat ringing in your ears. It was stupid for you to get anxious that he’d reject you— he was your boyfriend after all. But to you, this was all uncharted territory; foreign waters.

“Tomorrow is a Friday, yeah,” he confirmed, looking down at his book again. “It’ll be a week since you woke up.”

The realization that you’d woken up exactly one week ago—the day that caused the man so much joy and then so much pain— that that day had been on a Friday, your sacred day that was devoted to being spent with each other… it made your heart throb uncomfortably in your chest. You nibbled on the inside of your cheek, shutting off the burner and transferring the food into a serving dish. Bringing it over to the counter and setting it in front of him, you untied the apron and folded it neatly, placing that on the counter too.

“Would you… want to go out with me tomorrow, then?” you proposed smally, opening the drawers before you in search of eating utensils. You frowned when all you were met with was measuring cups and spatulas. “For our Friday date ritual, I mean.”

Shouto stood and crossed the island, opening the drawer behind you and revealing all the silverware and chopsticks. You moved to grab two pairs of chopsticks and he took your wrist gently, large thumb stroking across your skin. His other hand came to brush against the small of your back, but he chose not to grab onto you. “I would love that.”

You shared a smile and a meaningful look.

“Then it’s a date.”

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

After the dishes were all washed, you agreed to watch a movie. You had initially wanted to pour over your things again, to see if anything could help your memories come back. But Shouto had suggested the two of you relax on the couch instead, explaining that he was not surprised that you were overworking yourself, but that it was his job to make sure you took care of yourself. He further threatened that if you wouldn’t take care of yourself, then he would have to “take care of you himself”, and that left you flustered more than anything. So you dropped whatever excuse you had prepared to argue back at him and followed him to the living room.

Walking in, you blinked in awe at the spread that Shouto had set up. Numerous candies and snacks are laid out for your convenience across the coffee table. The lights were dimmed and curtains drawn, even a few candles flickering in the shadows and scenting the room with a cool, refreshing aroma. There was a pile of blankets stacked in the center of the sofa, all the decorative pillows pushed into the corners to leave one large space for the two of you to share. It was a little… dare you say it… romantic. You looked over your shoulder at him, shooting him a suspicious glance. He had led you to believe he was “taking care of you”, but it seemed he had ulterior motives, too. Not that you were complaining.

Seating yourself next to the blanket tower, you peeled one off the top before unfolding it, letting the soft fleece tickle your ankles and lay across your lap. Shouto crossed in front of the TV, grabbing two remotes from the basket and coming to sit next to you. There was a respectful amount of space between your legs, and you couldn’t help but frown at the gap. You thought that he would sit right next to you…

It took a little while for you to settle on a movie, all the films from the past five years unknown and novel to you… even if Shouto informed you you had already seen them. He went along with your selection without resistance, opting to grab one of the biscuit snacks on the table before you.

As the movie began, you leaned back against the soft cushions of the couch, not really focusing on the actors on the screen. Your eyes were trained on the television, but your mind was elsewhere, unable to distract yourself with the story. You also noticed that Shouto was sitting stiff as a board next to you, focused on nibbling at his snack. He didn’t attempt any moves at you throughout the first thirty minutes, even after he’d finished with his confection. Slowly you allowed yourself to relax, succumbing to the film and settling into the pillowy sofa.

Shouto detected your newfound relaxation, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he watched your eyes fix on the main character and her love interest. “I’m going to make some tea. Would you like a cup, love?”

“I’m okay, thanks…” you replied softly, not really hearing him as the love interest was in the middle of their heartfelt confession.

He took a moment alone in the kitchen to calm himself. Even though you had been very receptive to him, he couldn’t help but feel hesitant whenever he touched you. He wanted you to want him; for you to want him to touch you. But he didn’t want to force anything with you, in fear that he’d scare you off or make a bad impression. He didn’t want to be pushy. Even before the accident, his heart still pounded whenever you would smile at him. When you would grab his hand, bring him something because it reminded you of him… when you would moan into his ear at ungodly hours in the night… Now it felt like his heart was in his throat every time you spoke to him, like if he said one word wrong, you’d fly away from him and never look back. It was terrifying.

Shouto shook his head. Sighing to himself, he filled his mug with water and held the ceramic in his hands, steam rising off the surface of the liquid almost instantly as he activated his quirk. He allowed the tea leaves to steep for a moment before he fished them out, steeling his nerves and returning to his spot on the couch. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like you’d scooted over just the tiniest bit, shortening the distance between you two as he took his seat.

Your eyes flicked over to him and caught his gaze on you, inspecting the mug in his hands before giving a curious sniff. “Chamomile?”

He nodded and offered the cup to you, which you took in both hands. “Technically, it’s called Sleepytime Mix. But yes, it has chamomile. Have some, if you want.”

“Ah,” you gave a long inhale and smiled drowsily at the familiar scent. “I don’t wanna drink all your tea. And besides, it’s a little hot for me.”

“Oh,” Shouto said, taking the cup back into his hands. He focused for a second, and then the liquid no longer emitted steam, now a pleasant, warm temperature. “Try it now. Help yourself, please.” He handed the mug back to you, the light from the television flickering across his handsome face.

You blinked at him cutely, taking the mug in your hands again. Your fingers brushed against his in the transfer, and he cleared his throat slightly, skin warmed from your touch. “Wow!” you chimed after a sip, going back for another few gulps before you handed it back to him. “It’s really good. Perfect temp, Sho, thank you.”

Shouto felt his heart skip a beat in his chest, his eyes widening at the name he hadn’t heard in weeks. It sounded so good rolling off your tongue, so right. At his flustered expression, you laughed awkwardly, fingers delving into the blanket and looking away meekly.

“Sorry… I thought that that was probably what you’re used to me calling you, but I can use something else if you like.”

“No,” he said instantly, his hand automatically reaching for yours. He pried it out of the fleecy material, folding his fingers around yours. “I like it. Please call me that, I… I’ve missed hearing it.”

“Alright,” you mumbled, fingers squeezing his for a moment. You kept his gaze for a long pause, and then you duck down, scooching flush against his side and laying your head onto his broad shoulder. It caught him off guard, but after a moment of buffering, he moved, his arm tentatively wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you against his side. The action made your cheeks perhaps as hot as the tea in his mug, but you only settled deeper into his embrace, happy to be in his arms. You fixed the blanket so it covered his long legs, too, settling over the both of you snuggly.

You two stayed like that for the rest of the movie, another forty five minutes or so. Your hand gradually moved to rest on his stomach, his long fingers stroking your spine through your shirt. It was new to you, but it was comfortable— your body recognized his touch and welcomed it, even— years of unknowingly conditioning yourself to receive his affection allowing you to accept his embrace. By the end of the film, you were dozing off, warm and relaxed now more than ever, curled up into Shouto’s side.

Shouto, however, was wide awake, his pulse rushing in his ears at your proximity. It had been a very long month without you, and now here you were, cuddled up with him just like how you used to be every night. He knew you were somewhere in between consciousness and sleep, so he let the entire movie credits roll by before he decided to move you. Still holding his mug, which had been empty for the past half hour— but he didn’t want to risk moving and causing you to pull away— he set it on the side table, carefully maneuvering his wide frame so as to not disturb you.

You whined in protest but did not stir when he curled his arms around you, picking your form up and off the couch. After making sure all the candles were blown out and the lights were turned off, he quietly carried you to your shared room, not bothering to turn on the lights. It was then that he hesitated to make the next move— you were still in your clothes from the day, and he wasn’t sure if you would want him to see your bare body if he took the liberty to rid you of them.

His tongue wandered over the bottom of his teeth as he gazed at you, strewn across the soft blankets that covered your bed. The few beams of moonlight that slithered through the bottom of the blinds fell perfectly onto your face, your lashes casting long shadows onto the duvet and giving you an ethereal glow. He could imagine how your naked skin looked underneath that cute little sweater you donned, your bra strap poking out as if to tease him even more. His eyes slammed shut as he sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth, recognizing the color, and the image of you clad in the matching panties that completed the set suddenly sprung forth in his mind.

Acquainted was an understatement as to how well he knew your body, but the problem was not as simple as physicality— the problem was mental, and it could not be vanquished by anything except time, it seemed. The beautiful brain he loved so dearly was now wiped, void of all the memories the two of you had made and cherished together. Shouto clutched his stomach as he took a seat on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, feeling sick from the forceful whirlwind of emotion that came along with the thoughts that crept up on him in the night. The knowledge that you did not remember him, not even one measly memory of him, upset him more than anything.

He had not realized how much his world had shifted now that he had you. Of course, he loved you and he made great effort to ensure that you knew the extent of his devotion to you. But it wasn’t until you had woken up like this, confused and distraught, mind reverted to just months before he had even met you, that he had come to terms with just how much you meant to him. He knew that he loved you before. But now he knew the pain of being unable to hold you, and be with you— really, even talk to you like he had grown so accustomed to.

It was eating him alive, and tearing him apart.

When you had awoken after such an excruciating, lonely month, he had been overjoyed. Finally, he could be with you again— he could touch you and kiss you, hear your sweet voice, hold your body close to his as you fell asleep, and wake up with you still in his arms, groggy and adorable… except, he couldn’t. Because while you knew who he was… you didn’t, really. You didn’t know him at all. And what hurt the most was that he could see that you were trying… but at the end of the day, he was only a stranger to you. He was not your boyfriend, not anything more, other than a hero that you idolized and had a silly crush on.

At the very least, he found comfort in the knowledge that you found him attractive. Of course, you had revealed to him, albeit once you were deep into your relationship, that you had fantasized about him and fostered a schoolgirlish crush on him when you hadn’t yet been introduced. He remembered laughing at your embarrassed confession, pinching your cheeks and then kissing you through his smile… then, taking you from behind as you bent over the bathroom counter, pressing you against the mirror as he donned his hero suit, savoring your pleading moans for him to fuck you deeper, harder.

His cock twitched in his slacks, blood beginning to travel south as his interest grew for the first time in weeks. He groaned and he grit his teeth, frustrated at himself for even daring to feel desire while you laid asleep next to him, plagued by your wiped memory but sitting there looking like that. Gorgeous and untouchable.

As if his heated gaze had summoned you from your slumber, your eyes opened and you blinked at him, squinting at his silhouette in the dark of the room. Shouto recoiled even though he hadn’t been caught doing anything too suspicious; he was a good distance away from you, but still, you had caught him staring at you like a creep in the shadows.

“Sho?” you mumbled drowsily, a hand coming up to rub at your eyes. You propped your body up on your elbows, your shift stretching flush over your chest.

Shouto nearly moaned at the sight combined with the sound of your sleepy voice uttering his name. It didn't help the situation that was stirring in his pants one bit, only adding water to an oil fire. “Hey,” he replied, clearing his throat. “You fell asleep, so I brought you to bed.. Did you want to clean up before we go to sleep?”

You sighed, rolling over as you roused yourself from sleep. “Not really…,” you chuckled, and Shouto felt his chest tighten at the premise of having to get into bed with you with his problem at hand. “But I’ll be a responsible adult,” you finished, rolling out of bed and padding over to the bathroom.

He glanced over at you in the mirror as you brushed your teeth, the cat curling around his ankle and taking his attention away from you. Giving the animal a scratch underneath her chin, he tried to focus on calming himself, closing his eyes and controlling his breathing. Even though this wasn’t at all like how it had been before, it was still better than being alone. Your presence, the sound of you tidying yourself up in the nearby vicinity, took the month-long weight of loneliness off of his chest. It still stung, it still hurt— but at the very least, you were here. You were alive, and you were here with him.

It was you calling out for him that interrupted his train of thought, and when he looked toward your voice, he found you peeking around the doorframe, your hair pushed back and your face glistening with moisture from your nightly routine. “Aren’t you going to wash up, too? There’s two sinks in here, y’know,” you stated matter-of-factly, as if he didn’t know the layout of his own home.

But Shouto only smiled at you and nodded, leaving the cat and accepting your invitation for him to join you in your bedtime ritual. The situation in his pants had since relaxed, thankfully, so he didn’t have to worry as he took his place adjacent to you at the sink counter. Squeezing toothpaste onto the bristles of his toothbrush, and watching you put on your moisturizer in his peripheral, it felt almost as if nothing had changed. For the first time in a long time, he let himself forget about the horrible curveball that life had thrown at him, instead choosing to stare at you as you picked up the cat at your feet, and placed a sweet kiss on the top of its head as you cradled it in your arms.

You padded out of the bathroom first, opting to close the door behind you. After Shouto had finished his routine, he slinked out into the bedroom quietly, surprise flickering in his gaze at the pyjamas you were now dressed in— a pair of soft sleep shorts and an old t-shirt you had stolen from him years ago. He tried not to stare as you crawled into the sheets, the cat taking her perch at the foot of the bed.

The clearing of his throat caught your attention, and he licked his lip as your eyes settled on his. “Is it okay if I sleep without a shirt?” he asked, having to keep himself from smirking as your eyes widened and a flustered expression blossomed on your face. Cute.

“Y-Yeah,” you stuttered after a second of recalibrating, your eyes still trained on his. “The doctors said we should just live out our normal routine, so… whatever we normally do, we should do.” Sliding deeper underneath the comforter, you pretended to look busy as you fiddled with your phone.

Shouto bit his lip and wondered if telling you that your nightly routine of getting naked and passionate between the sheets would do you any good, but he decided against it, not willing to push his luck. Instead, he tore his shirt over his head and pulled down his pants, turning toward the wall so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. He could still feel your gaze on his flesh— he always could, for his skin prickled and the hairs on his body stood up as your eyes roved over every inch of him in appreciation. He didn’t need to see you to know that you were staring.

After he stepped into a long pair of sleep pants, he turned and pretended not to notice your obvious shuffling in a foiled attempt to not be caught looking at him. Carefully he slipped into the sheets on his side of the bed, ensuring not to wander too close to you in order to keep a respectful distance between your bodies… even though he wanted nothing more than to launch himself at you, and wrap his body around yours until neither of you could tell where one of you stopped, and the other started.

There was a long, stuffy silence as the two of you laid there, both of you unsure as to the level of affection you should be displaying at the moment. Shouto was doubtful that you’d want him to hold you like he so desperately desired, and you were hesitant to initiate anything with him laying frozen and a good distance away from you.

“Is this… how we normally sleep?” you wondered aloud, and though you were surprised that the words actually fell from your lips, you were grateful to have broken the rising tension.

Shouto left out a breath he had been holding at that, turning so that he was facing you on his side. “No,” he answered truthfully, his fingers sliding over the cool cotton that separated your bodies, wandering toward you at a snail's pace. “Usually… we like to,” he cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the lump that was situated there, “snuggle.”

In the quiet of the room, he could hear your lips part, a soft breath falling from between them as you processed his response. Your heart was beating faster now, body crying out for his touch, his embrace. “Can we?” you asked so softly that you hadn’t thought he’d heard you, but slowly, surely, he shuffled toward you.

You inhaled as he placed a gentle hand on your waist, pulling your body to slide across the sheets and meet him in the middle of the bed. Lifting your head so he could slip his arm beneath your neck, he brought your face into his neck, arms wrapping tight around your torso. His fingers dug into your side and the hair at the crown of your neck, curling around the tendrils as if he was scared that you would slip out of his grasp at any moment. Pressed up against his bare chest, you could hear the steady, fast thumping of his heart, and the shakiness in each breath he drew in and let out.

It sounded like he was trying not to cry.

Your hand wandered up and under his neck, your elbow angling around the back of his neck so that your fingers could trace the sinews that lined his shoulder blades. Your other arm slung around his back, and although it was just a bit of a reach, you managed to find his silky locks, combing through the ends with your fingers. Daring to push the fragile boundaries that kept you two separate, you threw your leg across his hips, trapping his legs between yours and pressing your body completely flush against his.

Shouto stopped breathing, tears threatening to spill over as he held you so delicately for the first time in what seemed like forever. Similar emotions were flowing through you as well, your body singing at the feeling of being with him, in his embrace. Your heart throbbed at the thought of leaving this man alone for an entire month, with no one to comfort him and calm his worries. No one to hold him and tell him that it was going to be okay, no one to plant kisses across his tear-streaked cheeks and help him forget his pain.

It wasn’t your fault you had been in this accident, that you had forgotten your memories from the past five years. But it wasn’t his, either. The two of you were forced to suffer in different ways, separated by your condition and worlds apart. You wished so desperately that you would just remember already— if not for your sake, then for his. Anything that would make him feel better, anything to ease the ache in his heart.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out quietly, overcome with emotion as you laid in the arms of the man you had once loved. The man you’d been learning to love again. “I’m so sorry I don’t remember you. I want to, I’m trying.” A tear dripped down your face and landed on his chest, sliding down to stain the sheets.

Shouto sucked in a shaky breath at your meager apology, rough fingers running over the back of your neck. “I know you are,” he murmured, and you could feel him swallow thickly as he tried to find the right words. “It’s not your fault, love… You can’t— you can’t blame yourself.” His voice broke at the last syllable, his arms squeezing tighter as he held onto you.

You pressed your face into the junction between his shoulder and his neck, uncaring of your tears that smeared across his skin. “Neither can you,” you sniffled, body clinging to him as best you could. “Please, Shouto, promise me you won’t.”

It was then that he let the tears he had been holding back fall, racing down his cheeks to plop onto the dampening pillow. You held him as he cried, unphased by the sudden outburst of emotion from the man who had shown you so little of himself in the past week.

“I’ll try,” he mumbled into your hair once he had calmed down a bit, lungs still rattling as he tried to suppress his emotions. “For you, I’ll try.”

You leaned back from his chest, his heart seizing up at the tear tracks on your cheeks that were illuminated by the soft moon’s glow. And then, you kissed him. It was simple and sweet, just your lips pressed to his as your thumb swiped across his cheek. But it felt like you were breathing life into him, like he had been starved of oxygen until this very moment.

Both of you gasped when you pulled away, the kiss having lasted as long as you could stand without breaking for breath. Your eyes wandered from his shining ones to his lips, shocked that you had planted such a passionate kiss there just seconds ago. It had worked, though— Shouto was breathing normally and his tears had stopped, dual-colored eyes now staring at you as if you had just given him a purpose to live. You licked your lips, not missing the way his gaze flicked down to watch the action with longing, but he did not act on it.

“We’ll get through this together,” you whispered, hand resting on his sharp jawline. There was not a hint of doubt in your voice, no hesitance nor fear. It was just a fact, simple as that. You let yourself look at his handsome face for a moment longer before you ducked and nuzzled into his chest again, taking your spot as if you had never left.

Shouto exhaled, his fingers trailing down your spine as he closed his eyes, syncing his breathing to yours. The feeling of your body wrapped around his made his bones glow with a missed sense of comfort, his heart fuller than it had been for quite some time. He welcomed sleep to take him, the exhaustion of many long and insomnia-plagued nights from the past month all piling on. Pressing his lips to your forehead as softly as he could, he closed his eyes and murmured one word, wishing with every fiber of his being for you to wake up the next morning and have just one memory of him.

“Together.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

...soooooooo idk how this is only part 1, shit’s 11k already 💀 ahh for those of you who made it through, thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoyed!! there was no smut in this chapter which is so foreign to me, but i’m hoping to improve my story creation skills as part of my 2021 author resolutions... so, let me know what you think! hopefully part 2 will come to fruition soon, but it would probably come faster if i knew people were waiting for it ;)

➥ masterlist

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