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rosemaeridream · 1 year ago

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mercs have mommy issues. || aespa - uar

uchinaga aeri x reader (drabble)

warnings: guns, mentions of murder, reader is kinda insane but not so threatening, aeri just wants to live, reader’s got mommy issues (aeri give them a hug pls), aeri's weirdly calm?, stay away if u have a peanut allergy

A/N: i wrote this at like 2 am while i was delirious and had too many ideas for dialogue so enjoy xoxo also just realised there isn’t much romance it’s more aeri & reader — unless y’all want a second part which i would consider cause i enjoyed writing merc!reader and straightman!aeri (in the comedy sense - aeri’s not actually a straight man … ) anyway, just read and you'll understand what i mean.

Synopsis: Aeri just wants to have a happy and healthy life. So why can’t she get this stupid mercenary of her back. And why on earth do they keep calling her princess???

word count: 3.7k

(this is longer than a drabble but it’s my train of incoherent thoughts so it’s not worth putting in my actual works)

You scramble for the gun that’s placed on the table. It takes you a moment to get there, and by the time your favourite pistol is safely back in your hands, there’s a scream from the other side of the room and a vase is flying straight towards your face.

Dodging it with practised ease, you point your weapon at the new arrival who has just entered the apartment. The girl stands there with her eyes wide, long dark hair falling to rest messily over her shoulders after her overhand throw. She opens her mouth to let out a shriek.

You physically cringe at the pitchy sound. “Oh my god, stop screaming-”

Clearly your words don’t work because a chair is flung in your direction along with another yell. Sidestepping the chair with a huff, you give her an exasperated glare, returning your gun to its position aimed at her. “I’m not trying to kill you! Jesus Christ-” You twist your wrist so the gun is on its side, a show of pacifism. “Stop throwing things at me.”

The girl pauses to catch her breath, glaring at you suspiciously. Her voice is shaky when she starts to speak. “What are you doing with that gun then?”

You sigh, still pointing it at her. “Okay fine, you’re kinda sort of slightly on my hit list.” Your eyes roll as if this is the kind of thing you deal with on a daily basis.

She freezes, looking at you with her eyes wide. It’s not exactly a fearful expression, more surprised or astonished. “I’m on your what now?”

“Hit list?” She returns a blank stare.

“Uh… like a group of people to kill.” You explain, slightly confused. Who doesn’t know what a hit list is? Your empty hand goes to your combat jacket, slipping out a piece of paper. “See - hit list.” It has a couple names written underneath each other; the top few are ominously crossed out.

“And your name!” You point to the scrawl with the gun, a little ‘Aeri <3’ written. Flashing a gleaming smile at her, like the tiny paper is your pride and joy. “I added a heart here because you’re the only one close to my age, and I thought you might appreciate it more than the others.”

“Uh-huh?” She steps backwards slowly, edging towards the door and you’re too caught up in explaining how the hit list works, and who your favourite targets were to notice. “Why am I on your list?” She squeaks out, picking up speed.

You shrug, pulled from examining your list. “I don’t ask questions, it’s not really my list.”

“Who’s is it then? And why am I on it?” She takes another two shaky steps, gaining ground quickly.

You notice immediately this time, no longer looking at the piece of paper. Firing a warning shot at the door, she flinches and stumbles back in fright, putting distance between her and the door, where there is now a smoking bullet hole. Your trusty silencer makes sure that the shot isn’t too loud, but a gunshot is a gunshot and the firing pin still creates a metallic crack. Returning your gun to aim at her, your eyes light up in excitement. “Don’t move, princess.”

Aeri grimaces, clearly unimpressed with her new nickname. “princess? Don’t call me that, and don’t shoot at the door!” She scans around her apartment and you assume it's to look for other exits. Or maybe that’s just your brain working overtime and she’s just trying to figure out how much of a mess you’ve created in her home.

Feeling slightly guilty about the newly made peephole. “I’m sorry. It’s a lovely door. I’ll make sure the landlord adds in a fisheye lens for the next tennant.” Your words are said with utmost sincerity, clearly the door means a lot to her or so you assume. “Also, I think princess suits you! You’re definitely pretty enough.” You absentmindedly scratch your head with the gun.

Aeri rolls her eyes, as if being called princess was the very last thing in the large pool of nicknames she could have been given. “Whatever, I guess.” Your eyes get caught on the way she bites her lip, perhaps in thought. “Is there any way I can get off the list?”

You hum in thought. “You know, no one’s ever asked me that.” You move your gun down and think about it for a moment.

“Probably because I’m usually quicker than this.” The words hang in the air between the two of you, just a casual comment for one, almost a threat to the other.

The beat of silence is disturbed by a frustrated sigh. “If you’re gonna kill me, I guess just get it over with, no reason to drag this out any longer.” There’s a flash of thick dark hair as the girl walks past you, slumps down on one of the kitchen stools with a huff, and rests her head on the benchtop, closing her eyes.

You blink, sort of puzzled. No one’s done that before either. Furrowing your brows, you sit down next to your target. The urge to comfort her comes before your trigger happy nature. “Woah, cheer up, princess, this whole accepting death thing is a bit depressing.”

“Well, what do I have left to live for? I’ve never met or seen you before, but if you’re here to kill me then someone clearly wants me dead. There’s no point living like this.” The words come out almost lighthearted but there’s an undertone of fear and sadness. Aeri glances at you from the corner of her eye. “What’s your name anyways?”

Usually you wouldn’t tell anyone your name, but thinking about it, it doesn’t matter anyway. Squinting in decision, you ultimately come up with a compromise. “That’s classified, but you can choose a nickname if you wish.”

Instantly, she throws you a look that screams ‘Seriously, what is wrong with you??’. “Yeah, no thanks.” And yet, Aeri still sits up properly on the stool and the tiniest of smiles forms on her lips. “So… is killing me like… your job? Or a hobby?”

“My Job.” You fiddle with the safety catch on your firearm. “You rack up a pretty price. Nearly 5,000,000,000KRW.”

A couple seconds tick by before Aeri reacts, she doesn’t really seem to register the amount. “Oh wow…” Her eyes move to the benchtop and she seems to deflate a little, if there was a sad sort of squeaky noise she’d 1:1 replicate a balloon. “Why are you still talking to me then? Shouldn’t you be killing me or something?”

“I don’t know.” You respond after a beat, confused by your own actions. Although she looks like the human equivalent of a slinky toy failing to get to the bottom step, you appreciate that she still looks stunning in her last moments. Her hair shiny and clean, jeans hugging her legs nicely and her top feminine but not extensively. “No one’s ever thrown a vase at me before. Or a chair for that matter.”

Aeri tilts her head and considers you for a moment before she bursts out laughing. “Wait, so you’ve never met someone brave enough to fight back before? What about the other people on your list? Did they all just sit there and accept their fate?”

Your hand waves in the air like what she’s asked is silly. “Everyone else is dead within the first couple minutes. Or like, they beg and cry.” You look around her kitchen, eyes getting caught on the plate with a peanut butter sandwich you were making before Aeri came home. “I got a bit distracted tonight.” You push up from your stool, leaning across the bench with a small ‘sorry’ to pick up the sandwich, then you pull half your mask down to eat.

She stares at you like you're crazy. Maybe you are. “You’re not concerned about me seeing your face?”

“I mean, you’re about to die, sooo…” You bite half of the sandwich slowly. It’s been cut diagonally into triangles just how you like. “Besides, it’s only my mouth. How are you going to identify me from that?”

“I- yeah… I guess so…” Aeri trails off, seemingly lost in thought. Her body relaxes, like there's no trace of fear left, just pure confusion.

“You’re calmer than I thought. Usually people cry a bit. One guy pissed his pants.” Another bite of the sandwich. This time you make a little moan of appreciation. “God, what peanut butter do you use? This is so good.”

Surprisingly, she smiles at you. “Oh, it’s Skippy. I know, pretty basic but it kinda slaps, right?”

You mull over her words. Skippy wasn’t your usual choice, but maybe you should start buying it. Taking another bite of your peanut butter goodness, crumbs fly as you speak. “You’re sorta cool. I’m starting to feel bad about killing you.”

Aeri sends you a sceptical look, raising her eyebrows. “I don’t doubt you’re going to kill me eventually.” She shifts a bit in on the kitchen stool, her leg bouncing. Whether it be with nervousness or adrenaline, you can’t decide. “So why did you choose not to shoot me the second you saw me?”

“Well, you threw a vase at me. And a chair. It’s hard to aim while you’re dancing around flying objects.” You point out, finishing up one half of the sandwich then moving onto the other. “Do you have jam?”

Eyeing you, she slides off the stool and walks to her fridge, rooting around, then sits back on the stool with a jar of jam. “Don’t eat the whole thing. My mum gave it to me.”

A beat of silence follows as Aeri watches you slather one side of the remaining sandwich in jam. Then she speaks again. “I know I’m not dead yet, but I'm guessing if I were to convince you not to kill me then you’d just go home and find another target, right?”

“Yeah. I actually have another one tonight, but I think I may have missed my window.” You think over your schedule as you spread the jam thickly before closing up the sandwich and taking a bite. “Strawberry… Can I keep your mum?”

Her lips quirk up and she rolls her eyes, almost playfully.

Then there’s a pregnant silence.

After a moment or two of Aeri watching you eat, she tilts her head over to the tap. “So… Do you think you would let me get some water?”

“Are you going to throw the glass at me?” You move the sandwich from your mouth right before you take another bite.

She sighs, rolling her eyes again, this time less playfully. “No, no I won’t throw the glass at you. I promise.” Her arms cross and she leans on the counter. She looks depleted, like there’s no hope. You suppose there isn’t.

Studying her with a sturdy gaze, you decide that even if she does throw the glass at you, it’d be easy to dodge. “Sure then.” But just in case, you put your gun down on the counter close to the jam.

Another round of silence takes over as Aeri fills a glass of water and gradually drinks it. Well, at least until she breaks the silence again. “Are you working alone?” Her body twists so that the question could be addressed directly to you.

“Hm? Like, am I alone here killing you or what?” Your tongue runs over your teeth, poking at little bits of bread caught then you take another rather large bite of the pb and j.

“Yeah, are you alone in this whole assassination thing? Like, do you have a partner or a boss that you report the mission results to?” Aeri moves back across the kitchen and leans close to you. You can feel her watching your every move.

“Nope! All anonymous. I’m really just a goon, I suppose.” Your words are muffled by the amount of bread and peanut butter and jam in your gob. Patting your combat jacket, you pull out a little tube. You can tell she’s about to ask what it is, so you just shake the contents onto your sandwich. Rainbow sprinkles come out. “The blue ones taste the best.”

She blinks twice before muttering something along the lines of ‘Don’t they all taste the same?’ but you’re too happy munching on your sandwich to really hear.

“So… you’re literally just a mercenary getting orders on a random assassination from a client?” Her eyes light up for a moment. “I could literally just pay you more to not kill me, couldn’t I?”

You scratch your neck, slightly saddened that you’re about to burst her bubble. “You could. But where are you going to get 5 billion won? That’s like 3 mil USD. 5 mil CAD. Maybe… 500 mil Japanese yen?” Squinting you try to convert in your mind.

While you distract yourself with conversion rates, Aeri begins to freak out. “Wait, woah 5 BILLION??!” She steps back in shock. “That’s the reward?” Her hand flies out to grip the counter, trying to contain her panic. “What the fuck have I done to deserve such a high price??”

You shrug, not surprised by her reaction. This was closer to the type of thing all your other targets did. “Don’t ask me, princess. I just get the orders.” Your legs swing back and forth as the sandwich diminishes to a couple bites.

Aeri glares at you. Assuming it’s about the nickname and not the fact that you’re here to kill her in general, you give her a polite smile. “Well… the money and the orders. I get paid half when I accept.”

Her eyes widen and she takes a shaky breath. “So you’re getting 500 MILLION for walking into my apartment and having a chat with me?” She processes the information rather well, you think. “I could give you half of what you’ve already got and you can just call it a day, right?”

“Well, I mean, I get the other 500 mil after you’re dead.” You point out. “That would only be 750 mil. I’d be 250 short.” You go to bite your sandwich again and find that there’s nothing left.

“What if I give you the other half then? 500 million?” She takes a couple steps messily in a circle, her hands flailing. “My life is more than just 500 million fucking won, right?”

“I personally believe that lives cost $0 but you do you, princess.” You say nonchalantly, picking up your pistol again.

“Oh my god, why are you calling me princess all the time?” Aeri snaps at you. Then her eyes flick to the gun in your hand and she smiles nervously. “So you’re not accepting my offer? What if I make it better? Half the money, and get you a lifetime supply of Skippy peanut butter?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “You’re pretty like a princess. And you have those Disney eyes.”

Standing up to stretch, your back crackles. Then your hand moves to slide your mask back down over your lower face, covering your identifiable features up again.

Aeri watches you do so, almost glaring at you. “Ok, let’s put your attraction to me aside for a second and think about what I’m offering. You take the offer and you can have 500 million in cash, plus a lifetime supply of Skippy peanut butter. I’ll even throw in some of my mum’s Strawberry Jam.”

Your eyes light up when you hear her offer the jam, but then you remember your contract. “Mmm I don’t know. I already accepted the offer, and turning back would be a slight on the higher ups.”

“A slight? So they’d be upset if you let me go?” Aeri steps towards you again “Oh my god, I swear on my life I won't tell anyone you were here, I’d just prefer not to die.” Her voice is laced with fear, her eyes pleading. This is when you started to hate your job. Bargaining was always the worst part. “Couldn’t you just tell someone I ran away or something?”

“Not plausible. When people run I just make a mad dash after.” You pretend to run for a moment, then turn back to Aeri looking proud of yourself. “It always ends up with the target dead.”

That final sentence seems to get to her and her skin is a sickly pale sort of tint. Weary that she might throw up, you take a wide step back. “Are you actually gonna kill me?” Her face pales further and now she steps back, eyes wide open. The brown almost shimmering with tears. “Please don’t do this, I just wanna live happily and healthily.” Her voice cracks, and the tears start to fall. “I don’t want my mum to be sad.”

As she starts to make her final speech, you prepare your firearm. It’s beloved, having added your favourite silencer. LIfting it up to aim where it would hurt the least, you are a little sympathetic to your targets, your finger brushes against the trigger.

But something about her last sentence makes you pause. It echoes around your mind. Bouncing into the depths and then running you over like a bullet train. “Your… mum?” The words aren’t meant to be said out loud but they come out anyway.

Aeri watches tearily as you freeze and her voice catches in her throat. “Mum, yeah.” She looks at the floor, trying to hold back her tears. But it’s always hard to stop crying once you’ve started. “She’s my whole world. Always telling me how proud she is. When I’m down I think about how much she’d miss me if I were gone.” She looks back up at you, and you have to look away, avoiding her ‘Disney princess eyes’.

“She’s been through so much… having to deal with losing people. I promised her I’d stay safe.”

You grunt, your jaw clenched so hard you could feel the enamel scratching off your teeth. Then finally you lower your gun with a huff. “This is why I don’t talk to my targets.” You mutter to yourself before you flick the safety back on.

Your now ex-target rubs her eyes when she sees you lowering your gun. “Hey wait, you’re not gonna kill me?” She looks at you, her tear-streaked face staring earnestly into your eyes. You hold back a huff. “But what about the client? Your bosses? Will there be consequences for sparing me?”

“Yeah, probably.” You move around the room, grabbing the bugs you had placed around her apartment a couple days prior.

Aeri watches you and something switches in her. “And what exactly are you going to tell whoever ordered the hit?” She takes a step towards you, for the first time since she entered her apartment. “What if they send someone else to do the job?”

“Oh, they’ll send someone else.” You nod to yourself before strapping your things to your combat jacket. “I’d say lock your doors, but I don’t think that’ll help much.” Humming, you make an advance back to the window you came from.

“Then what the fuck was the point in sparing me if you know they’re gonna come after me again? You saved me, what, like a week at most?” She crosses her arms and glares at you, her eyebrows furrowing in disapproval. “Why go through this whole charade? I could’ve just died and it would’ve all been over with.”

You pause, thinking over her words. They circle in your mind, turning into scenarios that lead to the loss of your job. Then you grunt exasperatedly. “Oh my god, princess. You’re not my responsibility.” You twirl in a circle, frustrated, before walking back over to her and giving her a childlike squint.

She rolls her eyes, clearly still not a fan of your nickname. “Then why even let me live at all? Why not just shoot me? Why go to all of this effort just to spare my life and prolong the inevitable?” Aeri points a finger, like a gun to her head, then moves it to the floor. “This, right here. You sparring my life was so unnecessary.”

You groan, moving your head in a circle. “It’s your fault for bringing up your mum, I can’t deal with old people being sad.”

“She’s not even old!” Her voice raises a level. “And what about me feeling sad? What about YOU making my loved ones sad?” She moves her finger to your face now, clearly frustrated. It’s getting to the point that you’d be intimidated by her, except for the way her finger trembles. Now that the threat of dying seems to be over, she seems to realise how absolutely ridiculous this entire situation is. “Your clients are just going to send another assassin after me, so saving me was the most pointless, time-wasting choice you could’ve ever made.”

“Fine! Oh my god, Jesus Christ. I’ll make sure they don’t send another hitman.” You groan, then huff, then grumble to yourself as you check your pockets.

“And how the hell are you going to ensure that?” Aeri asks. “They paid you so much money to do this, do you think they’re going to just give up and be like ‘Aw okay, we’ll look for someone else.’? I honestly don’t think their next choice is going to be any nicer than you.”

You give her a glare behind your mask, annoyed that she can’t see the fullness of your frustration. “I’ll just kill the next one, jeez.”

Her jaw drops open as she stares at you, completely stunned. “You’re gonna kill them? Really? Even if it goes against the original orders?” Her eyebrows raise in shock, her head tilts and she crosses her arms. She’s clearly angry. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“I don’t know.” You sound meek.

“What a stupid answer.” Aeri rolls her eyes, looking at you with utter disbelief. “So, let me get this straight. You’re going to kill another assassin and probably get your loyalty card revoked and get into a bunch of trouble just because you feel bad for me because I talked about my mommy?” She shakes her head, looking completely flabbergasted at your responses. “Does the job matter that little to you? Wouldn’t you rather just ‘BANG’ and get paid?” She puts her finger back to her head and mimes the hammer striking.

“Mothers are important, okay?” You practically whine, taking a couple steps forward to remove her hand from her head.

Aeri takes another breath to continue her tirade, but your words and touch make her pause. Her entire expression dissolves into joint confusion and concern. “Huh? Are you like… mum-less?” You can tell her words are trying to be harsh but they just come out sort of flat.

“That’s classified.”

She raises an eyebrow like she knows that you’re lying, and that’s when you decide it’s time to jump ship.

Moving away to her window again, this time you make it to the frame. Lifting the lower pane with ease, you wave your hand behind you in an aloof manner. “Try not to die, princess.”

She looks at you, her mouth slightly ajar again. “Oh, ok.” She looks up at the ceiling as she tries to process what just happened. The more she thinks about it, the more ridiculous it seems. “Okay, I’ll try not to die,” Her voice is laced with sarcasm and she can’t believe she’s saying these words right now. “Thank you so much for sparing my life, Merc. The world is a much better place with you around.”

You flip her off as you vault through her window and into the night.

A/N: my search history is full of peanut butter brands now (this is the dumbest thing i’ve written in my entire life)

#!! dreamy’s pieces #aespa #giselle x reader #giselle #uchinaga aeri x reader #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #idol x reader #aespa imagines #kpop x reader #aespa x reader

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revvethasmythh · 7 months ago

Note

Random-ass fic question: Of all the dialogue you've published so far, what is your favorite line/exchange/monologue? What is it about that dialogue that you enjoy most? Was there anything notable about the process to come up with it?

Did I just go through ALL of my published fics scouring them for favorite dialogue? 100%, absolutely I did. But, ironically, my answer is actually from the most recent fic I published, which was a holiday themed Gale/Durge piece I wrote back in December.

I suppose the context of the moment is important, in that Durge is having trouble adjusting to mundane life after everything and Gale is seeking advice from Jaheira about this. My favorite published dialogue is Jaheira's monologue from the end of that fic (that first dialogue is from Gale):

“So what do I do?” Jaheira shrugged, her voice uncommonly gentle. “You find space for her. Space for her to try and to fail. Space for her to experiment and to grow. I was growing larkspur recently—they’re beautiful flowers, but, like anything, they require care. Full sun, moist soil, and mine grew to be quite tall, so they required a stake to give them support.” Her hands opened and closed and she stared into the corner of the room, as if searching for the right words. “Living things love to grow. All living things can grow into something beautiful, I believe, as long as you treat them right and give them the support they need to keep going. But the growing itself? That’s for them to do. You want my advice? Be her sun. Keep your hand steady at her back. Find her the space to grow and the means to do so. Then you can only hope you will watch her flourish.” She tipped her head from side to side. “I don’t know how much that will help, but that’s what you get when you ask for wizened advice, yes?”

I don't know, something especially about "living things love to grow" stuck with me after writing that. I actually, genuinely think about it frequently, as if it was advice given to me by Jaheira and not something I thought up on my own. Also, I think I love it because it feels very in character? I finished it and I was like "yes! THAT was a successful representation of her character and something she absolutely WOULD say."

I WISH there was something notable about the process of writing this. Well, actually I'd written 7k of that fic in one day all at once because I was trying to meet a deadline to publish it, so by the time I got to this I was a little delirious and I actually think it helped me channel Jaheira because I just was not overthinking it. If delirium can give you anything, it's the ability to not overthink what you're doing and just follow your instincts to put the right things on paper.

Also a bonus favorite UN-published dialogue below the cut because it's funny and also I just like to add bonus things whenever I talk about my writing:

This is a conversation that never ended up getting published because I lose momentum on the piece (I might return to it one day, still, but for now it's on indefinite hiatus). But every time I see this in my notes it just makes me cackle. Like, yeah, this IS a conversation Beau and Veth would have

Beau threw her head back and growled in frustration. “I know you love your husband. But are you happy?” Silence fell. Assurances sprang to Veth’s lips, but for the first time she found she couldn’t force them out. To her complete humiliation, she felt tears start to gather in her eyes. “Beau,” she began haltingly. “I-I don’t know what to do.” “Oh, shit,” Beau’s hands were planted on the table, fingers splayed wide and rigid. “You’re crying. Oh gods. I’ve literally never seen you cry.” “I don’t know what to do, Beau! Oh my gods, I’m crying.” She paused to swat at her wet cheeks in disbelief. “Oh shit, oh fuck, okay, come here.” Beau practically vaulted over the table to get next to Veth, throwing her arms around her and pulling her close. “I don’t cry!” Veth wailed, letting herself fall into Beau’s arms. “What did you do to me?” “I don’t know! I just asked you a question. Shit, I wish Caduceus was here. He would know what to do.” “Caduceus? I don’t want to talk about this with Caduceus!” “Okay, cool, cool, cool, good thing he’s not here, then.” Beau patted Veth’s back and tightened her grip on her. “Let it out, Veth. Just let it all out.” “You’re so bad at this.” “Hey, I’m trying! And, no, I’m not bad at this. I give great hugs.” Veth sniffled pathetically, nuzzling her head into the crook of Beau’s shoulder. “I bet Yasha gives better hugs. What if I want Yasha to hug me instead?” “Veth,” Beau’s breath hissed in through gritted teeth. “I know you’re going through a crisis right now, but I will punt your ass right back to Nicodranas.”

#thanks for the ask!!#fic asks #asks #mareastrorum

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orreanintrepidness · 1 year ago

Note

Sitting on his lap while Alistair was doing something on his PDA, Valentine was carefully writing out words in Orrean on a notepad. Her handwriting was immaculate, each stroke carefully placed as the message she wished to convey was very important.

Actually, Valentine was kind of shaking while she did it, a rarity for her. Perhaps he may take it as her feeling cold during those Orrean desert nights. But the reality was, she was scared, a feeling that didn't come up often.

Not when she was hanging off of a pole several feet in the air by her knees to get the perfect shot.

Not when she was freefalling after jumping off a burning plane with a broken parachute.

This was a life or death situation, a true one in her eyes. Valentine had to fight from crinkling the paper, as she wished for this message to be perfect. He might want to preserve it, this message that may never come again for him.

After all, in her family, you either marry or die when an assassin tells you their real name.

The message is carefully removed from her pad and given to Alistair after she turned to face him, tapping his cheek to get his attention. Using her usual detachment, Valentine swallowed her nervousness and put on a calm smile, hoping against hope he would not react badly to what he would see.

[In my family, we don't exchange rings, we exchange names. We truly believe in 'til death do you part', even before a marriage happens. A partner is loved until their last moment as their spouse. Even if we have to kill them ourselves to keep them to ourselves. I love you enough that if you ever left me for any reason, I'd kill you with my own two hands, because the thought of you with someone else when I can make you the most deliriously happy man in the world would kill me. I would kill you and then myself. That being said, will you be mine? Or will I have to claim you with death?]

And then she pointed to herself and slowly, quietly, sweetly, as if she practiced it to make sure the delivery was perfect. A preserved cherry blossom was pulled out of her pocket, offered to Alistair.

"SA-KU-RA."

That was it. Like a cured Pokemon move, whatever he did next would alter their lives forever, for better....or worse. Til death do they part.

To say the look on his face upon reading was one of shock was a given. He just stared at it, and stared at it, and stared at it. The silence must have lasted at least five minutes at a minimum. Not that such silence was unheard of with him, he was known for his long, drawn-out deliberations. This was not deliberation. This was him reading what was essentially his own death warrant if he declined. Not that he was considering such a decision given, it was Valentine who had made the demand. But that didn't make it any less... Unnerving, even for him. He knew she knew him too well, he relied on being an unknown, she would chew him up, and spit him back into the desert he crawled out of like it was another Tuesday. He dropped it. He just dropped it, like that. But he didn't move to act at all either. "Valen- Oh... OH... Sakura. You really need to not... Phrase an order like it is a question with choices. Choices give that illusion that there is any choice to be made on the matter..." He paused. Just staring at her for a moment, before he gave a nod, taking that cherry blossom into his hand, delicately, it would not be crushed like things usually would be in his palm. "I always have been... I already am, Sakura... Always..." His words stumbled again, and again, but he kept on nonetheless "Yes. The answer is yes." He finally blurted out, whatever hesitation was in him, it vanished in that moment. It had to. He knew it had to.

#ic #alistair's inbox: let's go!#cherryrockett

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 11 months ago

Text

SEL……………………

i finally got around to reading this!!!! :3 im sorry it took so long PJDJD bUT honestly im glad i took my time w it because this fic really does deserve a thorough reading!!!!! and i think i needed time to just….. Absorb a lot of it. to be in a good headspace. i still cried though i dont even know where to begin honestly!!!

sel……….. something about your writing just makes me sob. I DONT KNOW WHAT IT IS BUT…….. its just always so painfully soft. to the point where it hurts a little bit? 😭😭 in a VERY good way to be clear, but reading ur fics feels a little like going to therapy…. i cried a LOT reading this. so much of it is soooo heartwrenching but you never fail to patch it up w more softness and that’s just.

i take back the therapy comparison actually bc reading this felt more like going thru surgery…. getting scalpel’d and then sewn back together again….. but like. in a gentle way.

if u cant tell im a bit delirious rn bc there’s just so much i want to say 😭😭 but!! overall i am just in AWE of your writing style. always always always. how effortlessly u mess up my emotions…… i really do think its such a wonderful talent for a writer to have!!! i always without fail feel SO much reading ur fics :’3 if sel has a million fans i am one of them if she has no fans i am no longer on this earth 🙏🙏 u r so so so talented!! (but i expect financial compensation for every single tear i shed reading this PHDJD)

anyways!!! onto the actual fic… gosh. sel what have u done to me. i honestly truly dont know where to begin, i loved so so SO many things abt it, my notes are a mess, this might be a little incoherent but pls just know i adored this fic from start to finish…….. DEFINITELY one of my favorite depictions of gojo ever.

BUT OK im just gonna try to get all my thoughts out in a … somewhat ….. cohesive manner ….. i just hope u can feel the love i have for u and this fic <333333 im gonna take a page out of ur book and format this the same way u do when u rb my stuff!! and Hope that it turns out semi-structured… I FEEL A LITTLE LIKE IM WRITING AN ESSAY RN but im so unbelievably serious abt this sel. im treating this like a paper worth 80% of my grade.

When Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it. <- how DARE u start with this line u immediately shattered my heart 😔😔 this set such a distinct tone for the entire fic and its such a genius take on gojo….. his approach to love. his choice not to reach for it as a contrast to his somewhat greedy nature. more on that later though!!

BUT ON THAT NOTE………. gosh sel. i knew i was gonna love ur depiction of gojo in this obviously but i was really so so awestruck by how thoughtfully uve written him here 🥺🥺🥺 hes sooooo cute but he also feels so heartwrenchingly real, so vulnerable AND AND AND: soooooo human. i was completely enamored by so many lines and moments in this, when he gets shy and nervous and when his boyish side shines through. when you get a peek of who gojo Really is, when you strip away the godhood and resonsibilities and he feels safe.

You’d think this a rejection, if any, but he doesn’t move away from you, and the blush blooming at the tips of his ears says more than he ever could.

Your eyes trail to the side of his neck, hidden in the shadows of his jawline; there’s really nothing, but sometimes you blink and see crimson, oozing, gushing, leaking—you shake away the thought.

He looks cozy, almost boyish, beaming against the autumn breeze blowing on his thick gray hoodie.

Gojo continues to eat, blabbering about a site visit he’s assigned to next week, but you don’t miss the way his ears are fully red and how he’s biting his lips to death. <- THIS ONE IN PARTICULAR…. literally had to take a breather after this hooowwwwww do u write him so cute. tell me ur secrets. hes so cute im literally tearing up writing this hhhhhh 😥😥😥

its a side of gojo that i think a lot of people dont explore, bc he never really shows it in the manga, but i really do think that its exactly how he’d be in a situation like this!!! one thats completely unknown to him and hinges on that raw, unguarded, human part of his heart…. its such an interesting side of him.

it can be super cute to read, like all the moments in this where he gets a bit awkward and blushes and everything, but other times its just….. Unbelievably Heartbreaking. like when he gets downright desperate and openly afraid. its so chilling in a way because gojo as a character is always so calm and collected and chill, but then u have these moments of unfiltered emotion that are just….. so hard to read? but also so interesting and just. so Good. so wonderfully written i was FLOORED….. this moment in particular:

“Wait,” he swallows, a franticness you’ve never seen before. His head stays down as he bites his lips, sunglasses hanging by his fingertips. You wonder what he wants to say, that even if it comes out messy, it’s okay. You want to tell him that it’s just you—that you’ll always want to hear it all anyway.

What comes next is unlike any version of Satoru you have ever known—nervous and uncertain, almost like he’s afraid. He lowers himself, slowly coming down to his knees in front of you. A giant of a man so small in your presence.

“I don’t know how.” he mutters, dropping his sunglasses to the floor.

GAHHHHH……. PDJDJDBXBC ……… can u hear my heart breaking sel. a giant of a man so small in your presence……………. the way he opens himself up here. (and the way he drops his sunglasses!! the symbolism hhhh its so satisfying.) he comes off as almost helpless and thats just………… its so tough to read LMAO like truly!!! it gutted me!!!!! but i love it so much. and reader being so so SO patient (more on that later but sel shes literally my Wife i love her to death)

i think gojo is very much afraid of love, and that wounded part of him shines through so effortlessly in the way u write him here….. its such a realistic and grounded take and it just feels so right. which is probably also why it hurts so much :’3 but ive been thinking abt this a lot tbh, not just in regards to col but ALL your fics, just….. how good you are at really looking at a character and seeing their human side. and capturing it!! expressing it!!! lil habits of theirs, or vulnerable aspects that others might stray from…… im sure ive already said this and ill definitely repeat myself LMAO but!! youre such a wonderful writer sel. i really was so floored by all this!! how u make gojo feel so genuinely human, just in the way his ears go red or he bites his lip….

ohhhh also!! before i forget!!!!!! the divinity theme……. the god theme……. (explodes). literally every single time u write abt it i picture our braincells connecting PHDJDF i LOVE ur take on it so much!!

How does he tell you that he must be fucked in the head? That every second in his mind is another step closer to insanity? That he’s lost your tether on Satoru in pursuit of Gojo—of being a god?

^ LIKE………….. this entire paragraph. how he feels himself seeking the ’gojo’ in his name instead of the ’satoru’… n how reader always only calls him satoru!! he is slipping away!!!! n distancing himself from the person who makes him feel most human!!!!! im rattling at the bars of my cage sel.

BUT okok. lets talk abt my favorite part of this fic. there are Many bUT…… i think overall what affected me most and had me crying most (and obv also the main theme of the fic!!) is gojo’s relation to Love. his fear of it. but also his yearning for it. u show everything so subtly yet vividly and it feels so grounded and real!!! such a bigbrained take on him. how he loves reader but also fears how she affects him, how HE affects her…….. the softness he feels but also that panic. and just how closed off he is….

aaaaa there were just SO many lines that explored that part of him in so many different ways and i loved them all to bits:

It’s dangerous, he thinks, how you make wanting something so complicated seem so simple.

“I’ll tell you,” he starts, “but you have to look away." (....) “I’m fine,” he says to the back of your head, “you have nothing to worry about.” <- THIS… gahh… how he has to physically avert his gaze to lie to her. the symbolism here too… how his eyes reveal how he truly feels. im so weak for it sellllll ;w;

Gojo’s a pretty bad communicator; for how much he talks, he doesn’t really say much—and maybe that’s the root of all this. There are too many things he wants to say but can’t formulate in the right way.

“I can’t.” he speaks softly. What hurts the most is that beneath his sunglasses, his eyes still hold the sky. You think you want to cry. <- ME TOO READER ME TOO .. the helplessness here. the helplessness and discomfort that gojo must feel….. oughhh

It’s threatening, he thinks, how you can say so much with so little.

(…) how Gojo is now afraid of love, more than anything else, not because of loss but because he might not know how. <- if u listen closely u can hear my muffled sobbing in the distance

But it doesn’t come. You feel Gojo’s breath stilling before speeding up into little exhales. Something is wrong.

You realize that it must be true then, what they say, that those who love to be feared, fear to be loved, because you’ve never seen anyone afraid of something so good as Gojo is of this. <- (SOUND OF GLASS SHATTERING) SELLLLL I AM GRABBING U BY THE SHOULDERS…. this is sooo… so………… i cant speak just know i resonate a lot w col!gojo + i cried LMAO

Gojo hates it, how you’ve always had to adjust for him. He hates that he can’t give you this one thing, hates that you’re still so patient, that he’s still so afraid. He swallows, closing his eyes tight before opening them again. “I want to,” he chokes out, “I just don’t know—”

^ this entire moment…… GOD. the fact that he isnt incapable of it or anything, he just literally doesnt know how!!! and the frustration of that…. someone like gojo, who is good at Literally Everything EXCEPT for giving and receiving love. ack. it hurts but its such a real aspect of his character and u depict that side of him so well…….. how he wishes he could give u this One thing. when ur so patient. :( hes a sweetie and hes flawed and hes trying his best.

i know ive said this before but…. i really do identify so so much with col!gojo!!!! im kind of in love w col!reader bc of that LMAOO she’s just….. to have someone love you so gently and patiently……… with so much care. yeah. i get why gojo is literally gutted by her presence. hes so Me.

and THATS my segway into col!reader <333 my beloved. my angel on earth. i love her!!!!! so so dearly!!!!!!!!! she has this older sister vibe that just makes me want to hug her ☹️☹️🤧

i talked abt this a tiny bit before but she really has this resiliance abt her!! shes so so strong and kind and those traits melt together so seamlessly. i love how gojo is physically the stronger one, but when it comes to the emotional aspect reader is just so much more brave and willing to be vulnerable….. even when its scary for her too.

and how that rubs off on toru!!!! i adore their dynamic SO much and you wrote it so thoughtfully sel!!! i lovelovelove them. and its so perfect for gojo too…. i know u and i agree on this but i genuinely dont think any trope works better for gojo than slowburn/friends to lovers…. u just Get it

there’s just something so sweet about the way they interact, how they help each other!! their love is so so so tender and gentle and just. loving. its a slowburn and thats comfortable for both of them. there is just so so much care between these two!!! and getting to see the way their relationship slowly blossoms was such a treat 🥺🥺

“I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.” When you offer your heart to Gojo, he looks at you softly.

^ this gutted me like a sad fish. ive said this before but ur ability to turn my heart into sashimi w only a couple of finely chosen words kills me every time

Once Gojo turns to give you the cone, you reach for his other hand tentatively, shyly—your fingertips grazing his palm lightly. You want to give him an out if he can’t take this, but he doesn’t move. He twitches a little, as if he’s been caught off guard, but that’s it. <- FUCKKKK . sorry. im just ;; shes just ;;;;; the way she ALWAYS gives him an out in case its too much. she loves gojo so patiently and tenderly and thats exactly how he deserves to be loved :(

You choose to show him slowly, gently, like the trickling introduction of water to a man who is first learning how to drink. <- THISSSS GOD ur choice of words sel….. u really get such a good grasp on their dynamic and love just from this single sentence

It grows organically that way: knuckles brushing as you both reach for the stapler, pinkies touching whenever you walk side-by-side during site visits—until you’re able to hold his hand fully again, leaving that little infinity between your palms for him to close (hopefully, one day). <- THE SUBTLE INTIMACY;;;;;;;

Shoko asks what you are and you don’t know what to tell her other than you’re happy and it’s good. <- SHOKO MENTION but also i adore this line. stuck out to me a lot while reading!! tbh i think this is all love needs to be; it doesnt have to be labelled to mean something. theyre happy and its good!!

(i always get so giddy when i see how much our views of gojo overlap also .. i have a fic thats literally just this one line!! a relationship w gojo that isnt quite a relationship but the love is there and thats enough :’3 im just. aaa. im so thankful for u sel!! our gojo discussions mean the world to me <3)

You chuckle, without judgment, “I don’t either,” you lean forward, foreheads touching, “but do you want to try together?” <- MY HEARTTTTTTTT SHES SO….. shes like if someone gathered a bundle of the softest sweetest loveliest flowers n turned em into a person :< theres so much love in her heart!!

if i was gojo i’d be bawling LMAO just!!! to be treated so tenderly!!!! so patiently!!!!!! i doubt he’s has ever been met w so much tenderness and love :( it must feel scary to him but reader is just always so reassuring… to me the One dynamic that will always make me crumble is a patient, kind person who chooses to love someone who’s damaged and afraid. its difficult and tough but!! the love is there!! and the patience is so healing to me.

and needless to say u portrayed it soooo wonderfully…. u show how hard it is for both of them, how much theyre both struggling but still willing to bare their hearts to each other… how reader has to tiptoe that line between fondness and love and intimacy, not get too close but not too far… how its kinda like trying to take care of a wounded animal — if you move too quickly itll try to stumble away.

CAN U TELL IM NORMAL ABT THIS phddjjd i just. sel………… there is a tiny lil portion of my heart that belongs entirely to u and ur gojo and ur delicious takes on him <3333

but angst and hurt/comfort aside theyre also just. SO cute. i was gushing over them the whole time!!!!! im especially weak for shy nervous gojo SEL HES LITERALLY SO…… i dont know who im more jealous of at this point. theyre both so cute. u can sense their history and fondness for each other just in the way they speak, and the air between them is just so so so warm. i want them to adopt me i think. or just be their friend. or join their relationship

It’s always like this with Gojo: he pulls you in and you follow. No matter the distance between you, when you sit down together like this, it still always flows so easily. The banter you’ve built together over a decade and more shines through no matter what state your relationship is in.

“You know…” he looks to the side, pouting, “whatever you do….” “Like…?” you coax lightly, trying hard to hide the small smile forming on your lips. He grips his pants tighter, fabric bunching under his fingers, “When you hold my hand… those things. You get it.” You wonder how many versions of Satoru you’ll meet in your lifetime, and if this one, shy and nervous, will be one you’ll fit into the crevices of your heart just like all the others.

^ GOOD GOD (i exploded.) sel im literally so serious u r DAMAGING my brain hes way too cute. i think that if i flustered gojo like this i would simply fall to my knees and cry. hes just the cutest guy in the world i think. blushy and sweet. its embarrassing how down bad i am for him

You nod, opening your mouth. Gojo’s eyes widen, nearly dropping the spoon at your request. You see the flush of his cheeks and smile, corners of your mouth extending wider. The spoon is shoved to your mouth too quickly, almost like he’s embarrassed to feed you. <- cutiepie 😭

“Too sweet.” “Like me, right?” he winks. “Sure,” you drawl sarcastically and Gojo smiles like it’s high praise.

You turn to him, a shy smile on your face. The tips of his ears are blush red but he looks at you the same, “Your hands were cold,” he pouts, “is this– is this okay?” “Yeah, it’s warm. Thank you, Satoru.” you nod, beaming.

^ CUTIEPIEEEEEEE 😭😭😭

“There’s a secret ingredient.” He swallows before he scoffs, “What?” (...) “Love?” You’re surprised because he says it so casually, and Gojo’s never talked about love, has never even mentioned the word since this shift in your relationship. He realizes a beat late by the expression on your face and gets flustered, thinking immediately of ways to brush past it. (…) “if it is?” you whisper, pretending to stir your coffee. Gojo doesn’t know how to approach this, really, but he’s come too far to back out now. He clears his throat, mentally running through what he wants to say, then, “Good. ‘Cause that’s what I put in your coffee too.”

^ this whole scene……. psjdksbxjdbjxkzkz. so cute.

When he leaves for missions, you kiss his cheek, pull him in by the hand and linger there, shyly. He gets embarrassingly red but tries to cover it up by telling you not to miss him too much (even though you know you will, and he knows he’ll miss you more). Your near-kisses with Gojo happen more frequently, and it comes to a point where he even manages to land one on your forehead, while you fall asleep next to him on his office couch.

^ sel 🤝 the most gutwrenching heartfluttering depictions of subtle intimacy i have seen in my life

You stand there stunned for a good minute before you shake out of it, laughing. Gojo yells about how you’re being so mean, making fun of him when he’s like this, but you aren’t—not really. <- the banter!! the playful teasing n laughter!!!!!!! theyre so comfortable with each other and its so fun to read. :>

and sel…… just as a final note; this should hopefully be obvious atp but i ADORE ur writing. so so so much. i love the way this is written and i had to stop literally every two seconds to write down a line that i loved. i think the only ones i havent mentioned yet are these!!:

There are crescent indents on your palm from squeezing your knuckles too hard. You think, is this how you form shallow cuts on your heart? <- SO PRETTYYYYYYY

You learn that Gojo sees himself so differently from how you do—and maybe that’s everyone, but Gojo tends to say things while doing the other. He says he can’t bother with kids, but continues to take so many of them under his wing anyway; he calls your cereal concoction disgusting but tastes it regardless; and he says he can’t think about love, doesn’t know how, but proceeds to try so much harder, everyday. When you look at Gojo, you see a heart so big, so capable, that he can’t see it himself.

^ this one means so much to me. ive run out of brain juice atp but like … sel ….. 🥺🥺🥺😥😥 the way u just understand him. hes not perfect, hes not a saint, but he loves and he loves and he loves even when it only ever hurts him. there’s something so human about gojo and ironically i think it hinges on how isolated he is? just… the fact that he continues to love despite that gap is so telling to me!!! i agree w reader so much, he doesnt understand how kind he is :( but he has a lot of love in his heart too.

u can probably tell but this rly did just tear my heart right out of my chest sel………….. im sniffling. tearing up. but im so so so happy and grateful that i found u and ur fics <3333 this really felt so healing!! im so excited to read more col sometime soon <33

give col!reader and col!gojo a lil kiss on the head from me pls 🥺

₊˚⊹｡ tell me about love (show me how) | gojo satoru

wc: 7.4k

summary: you teach gojo how to love.

contains: f!reader in mind but no pronouns mentioned, descriptions of blood (typical jjk canon type stuff), shibuya onwards manga spoilers, implied minor character death, there are swears, suggestive bit at the end (but it’s funny!), lots of internal thoughts/dialogues, kind of canon divergent

a/n: relates to my short blurb, do you believe in love?, explores a lot on how i think gojo would be when it comes to love; ambiguous but linear timeline (jumps through scenes)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 01. do you believe in love? <- you are here -> 2.5. and my body keeps saying (it's yours)

When Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it.

It’s unusual for him to be so restrained, being born into greed and predetermined purpose—a one-man clan fated to hold power close to God. There exists a hunger within him, insatiable and stubborn, unstoppable until he gets what he wants. It’s all he’s ever known: to take and devour, simply because he can.

Yet with this, he doesn’t. He can’t seem to.

“I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.”

When you offer your heart to Gojo, he looks at you softly.

You catch his eyes and see the sky, bright, with flecks of light floating on his irises like cotton clouds in its periphery. It’s different from the piercing blue you’re used to—a terrifying riptide that washes you away.

It wasn’t intended as a confession, but Gojo always takes whatever you have to say. He commits it to memory each time; how could he not? Words that come from you flow so naturally, so earnestly that the air around you shifts all on its own.

His lips part slightly, red spatterings lining pink inner corners before they close again. He doesn’t say anything, but you know Gojo and the fingerprints of his soul—the way he bites his lips to withhold himself from speaking.

It’s dangerous, he thinks, how you make wanting something so complicated seem so simple.

He takes a small breath, then you feel it, pressed against you—the faint signature of his cursed energy overlaying his entirety. It tickles your skin a little, the effects of it brushing. You don’t remember the last time he put it up around you.

A million things run through Gojo’s mind for every split second he breathes, but at this point in time, he counts a million and one—one thought that if he touches you by infinity instead of his hands, he can have this good thing for now, that this is the only way how.

You’d think this a rejection, if any, but he doesn’t move away from you, and the blush blooming at the tips of his ears says more than he ever could.

The subtle intimacy you share with Gojo grows sporadically, from knuckles brushing to pinkies touching. He stands next to you more often, a few inches closer than he used to and sometimes, still, with an infinity connecting you.

When you hold Gojo’s hand for the first time, he jolts very slightly, as if you’ve shocked him. He’s started to put his infinity down around you again, and you continue the limbo of whatever it is you both are—except this time, he’s made it clearer, just a little bit.

During the last few leaves of fall, Gojo skips to an ice cream stand like a pre-schooler on early dismissal. You trail behind him slowly, shaking your head affectionately; he’s the only adult you know that still acts like he’s 5.

“You’re like a horse.” you jest, stopping next to him in line.

“You’re a snail.” he huffs, side-eyeing you, like a child.

You gasp exaggeratingly, hitting his arm. He fake-winces, but that’s all it is; Gojo’s the strongest and you don’t know of any human touch that has managed to hurt him, except—

Yeah. Your eyes trail to the side of his neck, hidden in the shadows of his jawline; there’s really nothing, but sometimes you blink and see crimson, oozing, gushing, leaking—you shake away the thought.

When he receives his ice cream cone stacked with vanilla-strawberry-vanilla and rainbow sprinkles on top, the smile on his face parallels the sun. He looks cozy, almost boyish, beaming against the autumn breeze blowing on his thick gray hoodie.

You wonder if he feels just as warm.

(Maybe that’s why you do it, then).

His eyes widen briefly, just a bit, before turning into the same soft skies frequenting them lately.

“Sorry, is this okay?” you whisper, peering up at him.

He stares at you for a while, his hand in yours unmoving. You leave a sliver of space between your palms–your own version of his infinity–just in case. And he takes it all in: how tiny your hand is wrapped around his, how gently you speak—how warm he feels now amidst this autumn breeze.

“The strawberry’s really good,” he finally replies, pressing the dessert closer to you, “try it.”

You give him one last look before you indulge in his request. Gojo’s always been good at that: pushing and pulling—pushing you away with non-answers only to pull you back in with something else.

But he doesn’t let go of your hand, so you keep yours there, palms nearly touching. (You make a point not to mention how the parts that do touch become clammy for the rest of the afternoon).

You start to think that your relationship with Gojo is going somewhere, then he disappears (‘gets sealed’ might be the more proper term).

His absence is deafening. You’ve all lost so much, and it hurts, but you carry on knowing full well that this is what being a jujutsu sorcerer means. There aren’t many left to fight his fight, so you do what you can to. You stay with Shoko, mostly, if not going back and forth with Utahime. You can’t afford to be crying when the students, the kids—you can’t even bear to think about what they’re going through.

Nights are the hardest, when the world is quiet but your mind is loud, throwing far too many questions you can’t find the answers to.

What will Gojo come back to? Then the scarier thought: Will he even come back?

You don’t want to doubt him, ever, but your mind continues to play back that day, like a final memory. The unintentional confession; his eyes like the sky.

You don’t want it to be the last important thing you tell him.

“I should start looking into retirement plans, like Nanamin.” you raise an eyebrow, questioning. Gojo’s never spoken this far into the future before, most especially his.

“Work is shit now for you too?” you scoff, leaning back on the wooden ledge.

Gojo rolls his eyes, skipping the coverage of his blindfold today.

“Well, after I remove the old geezers and change everything, there won’t be much left to do.”

You hum in response. He does make a point.

“Also, Megumi won’t need me anymore,” he pouts, whining, “who else will want me around?”

You try to hold back your laugh, wanting so badly to tell him that Megumi doesn’t even really like him around to begin with—but you figure breaking Gojo’s heart isn’t really something you want to do if you value your peace.

“I don’t know,” you reply, shifting your weight, “I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.”

Even now, especially now. You wish you were with him, too.

The day you hear of Gojo’s potential return, you drop your breakfast outside the 7-Eleven near Jujutsu Tech. You’re supposed to meet up with Utahime for a weekly check-in but your feet take you to Shoko, and the footsteps in your heart have never echoed louder.

This is the first good news in a while—especially after finding out about the state of Megumi and what happened to Tsumiki, your sweet girl Tsumiki.

When Gojo comes back, it’s like he never left. He pops out of the box joking the same way, talking the same way. He proves himself to be the strongest all the same, and when he wins—there are scars, but he wins and that fact stays the same.

So, when you reach for his hand now and he moves away, you’re stuck wondering what’s changed.

You let it stay that way for a while, your understanding extending to Gojo the way it always has—you don’t push, and he gives you what he can. It honestly isn’t all that bad, because at least he’s still talking to you like he used to.

Jujutsu society is still shaken from its core. You and all who have survived bear the task of building everything from the ground up; it’s exhausting, especially since most of you are still mourning.

Megumi’s been put in an induced coma; you understand why but it still tugs at your heart when Shoko tells you it might take a while. Everyone else has been assigned to sweep through the rest of Japan to ensure that any remaining curses are taken care of.

You see Yuuji and Yuuta visit Megumi sometimes, along with Maki and Toge when they’re free. Gojo’s there pretty often too, using healing sessions with Shoko as an excuse to see the boy he’s practically raised at 17, with you.

But while Gojo’s smiles to everyone else remain as charming as ever, you can always tell when they’re untrue.

“Are you okay?”

You find Gojo a little after midnight on the rooftop of the faculty building. The city always looks pretty from up here—a sea of lights reflected up on the sky. It’s a running joke that rooftops are Gojo’s ‘thing’, but you know he really only comes to places like this to think. You wonder what’s on his mind now, coming here every single night since being unsealed.

Despite how quiet you try to be, sneaking up on Gojo is almost impossible; he senses you before he hears you, sees the familiar traces of your cursed energy through his Six Eyes.

“Can’t sleep thinking about me?” he teases, looking straight ahead.

The steps you take towards him are careful, afraid of running him off like you seem to be lately. You sit beside him, leaving a space larger than you usually do, then shrug, “These days, yeah.”

It’s times like this when Gojo forgets how honest you can be, how he takes your word for everything, completely.

It’s threatening, he thinks, how you can say so much with so little.

“Well, maybe I can suggest—”

“Seriously, Satoru,” you grip the ledge tightly, knuckles turning white, “please.”

You tend to let Gojo dodge your questions a lot of the time, his elusiveness a hallmark of who he is. So you never sound like you do now, serious, pleading.

Gojo fiddles with his fingers, pondering. He hums lowly before speaking, “Does it matter?”

It hurts you a little, how that’s even a question. He should know better than to ask that to you.

“It matters to me, Satoru,” you sigh, “you know it does.”

You barely catch the way his brows furrow at your response, but there are creases on his blindfold that can’t be created by anything else. And Gojo knows—is so painfully aware of the way you care.

Since coming back, he’s never felt like he’s fully returned. It’s an odd existence of in-between, like he breathes everything and nothing all at the same time. The emotions are even worse, overloading his senses with feelings he can never pinpoint.

How does he tell you that he must be fucked in the head? That every second in his mind is another step closer to insanity? That he’s lost your tether on Satoru in pursuit of Gojo—of being a god?

“I’ll tell you,” he starts, “but you have to look away.”

You’ve always treated Gojo tenderly, patiently, and he knows, without a doubt, that no matter what he says you will continue to do the same. But he can’t allow that, not anymore. Not after the way you looked at him that day.

“Okay,” you mutter, turning your head the other way.

He breathes out and you can almost picture it: half-bitten lips and eyes like low tide.

“I’m fine,” he says to the back of your head, “you have nothing to worry about.”

A breeze picks up and brushes past your neck. It’s a lie. He knows it, knows you know it too, but—

it’s easier this way, he thinks, to give you answers when you’re not looking.

Gojo’s never found a weakness he can’t work around, but he might have just found one with you—in your eyes, that read through his every lie. If you turn around now, he’ll want to tell you everything.

“Satoru,” you whisper, letting his name fill the air. You get it—him, and even when you don’t, you try damn hard to because you refuse to let Gojo carry all of it on his own.

There are crescent indents on your palm from squeezing your knuckles too hard. You think, is this how you form shallow cuts on your heart?

“It’s just me,” you continue, facing him when you say it.

He takes you all in—your eyes that hold the city lights, your lips, the only vessel that handles his name so delicately. It’s that look on your face again and Gojo’s hit with an ache in his chest—the overwhelming truth that whatever it is, he feels the same.

There’s a secret Gojo keeps, one he’s certain he’ll never tell you: that when he looks at you upon his return and finds an emotion he refuses to name, he’s never felt so afraid.

He takes in the shadows under your eyes and the sunkenness of your cheeks—the number of blinks it takes you to reign in tears on the brink of leaking. The way your voice shakes when you say his name.

Shoko tells him about it because she knows you never will—about how you’ve been running yourself dry, speeding through colonies to gather intel for any possible way to break the seal. She tells him about the sleepless nights, how she catches you standing outside his office at 3 a.m. before travelling to Utahime the next morning.

And he cannot comprehend it at first, cannot understand how he’s caused you to crumble this way.

If this is all because of him, how you’ve broken yourself all for his sake, he can’t allow it. To see you ruin yourself over him, over anyone ever—you deserve better.

So, when Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it; he cannot possibly take any more from you if this is what is left of you when he does.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you catch him by the door of the conference room.

Rebuilding an entire society requires work and apparently a lot of meetings. Gojo doesn’t usually go to most of them, leaving you and Utahime to carry the chunk of his attendance when he’s not there. In the rare times that he does show up, he makes it a point to be the last one in and the first one out. Utahime hates him for it but you don’t blame him—he isn’t exactly amicable with other figures of authority.

He pauses when he steps out of the door, hands in pockets as he turns to face you.

You’re not mad or anything, just stating the fact. He’s always known you to speak this way. You lean against the wall next to you, keeping your arms crossed. More people continue to file out of the conference room, some eyeing the two of you curiously as they pass by.

Gojo glances at them, suddenly self-conscious as he clears his throat, “Right, I’ve been avoiding the paperwork you left in my office,” he emphasizes, practically announcing it to everyone in the vicinity, “let’s finish it now.”

You don’t know whether it’s irritating that Gojo’s so terribly bad at acting, or comforting that he still can’t, for the life of him, successfully lie in front of you.

He motions for you to follow him as he strolls down the hallway, but you intentionally lag a few steps behind, careful not to encroach on his space lest it make him avoid you any more than he already is.

Stepping into Gojo’s office after so long feels weird, like you belong here but only to a memory of it—as if closing the door behind you feels like activating a muscle you haven’t for a while. It’s been months after all.

Your eyes skim over the entire room, zeroing in on the stacks of paper lined up on his desk; paperwork has always been Gojo’s least favorite part of the job, often leaving you to do them with him (or alone, when you’re feeling generous). Not much has changed in his space; the mini living area still exists to the left of the room, with little bits of you in its interiors—the pillows, the coffee table books.

Gojo plops down on the sofa chair and props his feet up on the ottoman, giving four scrolls to his phone before pocketing it. He has the audacity to casually offer you the seat across from him, as if nothing’s wrong—as if he hasn’t been avoiding you for god’s sake.

Ever since the rooftop, he’s canceled lunch with you six times for reasons that you’re now realizing are less likely to be true. He’s kept a distance of at least one person in between you at all times, and to this day, you still don’t understand why.

You sigh, taking a seat and leaning back to cross your legs.

“You’re so bad at acting.” you start.

Being with Gojo for so long, you’ve come to realize that there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it.

“I technically wasn’t lying.” he replies, sticking his index finger up.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you snicker, nodding to his desk.

Neither of you say anything until Gojo replaces his blindfold for his sunglasses, placing the piece of cloth on the coffee table.

You break the silence.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you ask quietly. Gojo aches at that, how you still choose to regard him so kindly.

Why has he been avoiding you? It’s a good question, completely valid with how he’s been treating you lately, but he could draw up every answer he has, all one million and one, and still not know what to say.

“If it’s something I did, can you at least let me know?” you continue. Gojo frowns, how can you be wronged yet still think of yourself as the one to blame?

“Why do you do that?” he tuts, head tilting sideways as his hands dig deeper into his pockets.

“Do what?” you furrow your brows, confused.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t worry about it.” he says dismissively.

You arch an eyebrow; he has it all mistaken.

“Satoru, I’m not worried because I feel guilty,” you sit up, inching towards the edge of your seat, “I’m worried because you’re pushing me away.” your voice is level, but your pupils shake.

Something grips at his chest seeing you this way; together or apart, he seems to be the main contributor to your heartache.

You wonder if confronting him like this is any good if he’s not going to say anything anyway.

“If you want space, that’s okay, I get it, but,” you exhale, “at least just tell me why.”

This entire time avoiding you, Gojo’s had you on his mind—the million and one. He’s come to terms with what he feels when you’re together, and how it amplifies when you’re not.

It’s shitty of him to practically ghost you, not just in text but in real life too. But he’s thought about it logically, really, that removing himself from your life should be just like ripping off a bandaid—painful but quick. At least that way, you’d get over it fast.

He’d been resigned to doing that and that was the plan—until now.

All it takes is seeing that look in your eyes, and his resolve falls apart.

“I can’t.” he speaks softly.

What hurts the most is that beneath his sunglasses, his eyes still hold the sky.

You think you want to cry.

You take this as your answer and close your eyes, taking a deep breath before getting up to leave. If this is goodbye, you don’t want your last interaction to be an awkward memory of him watching you bawl in his office chair.

You push yourself up with the armrest only to sit back down—because Gojo is right in front of you, blocking your way. His infinity is up but touching, a tingling sensation sweeping across your knees.

“I don’t know how.” he mutters, dropping his sunglasses to the floor.

You blink once, twice, still surprised by what’s in front of you. Gojo has always towered above you, has always known how to do anything and everything so effortlessly without fail.

Watching him now, with every inhale and exhale dragging in slow motion, you do your best not to startle him.

“How to what?” you whisper, the moment so fragile.

He looks up, eyes locking with yours. A reaction happens in that moment—the split second of all his thoughts collapsing into one. You see a clear sky, blue and bright as day, the Satoru he saves for you—while he sees you, with that look on your face, the one that he knows has always only meant love.

The sincerity in your gaze overwhelms him—makes him look away before it becomes too much. Red blooms at the tips of his ears as he bites the inner corners of his lips, fingers grabbing at the fabric of his pants. You’re afraid he might run away again, but he doesn’t and stays right where you are.

“You know…” he looks to the side, pouting, “whatever you do….”

“Like…?” you coax lightly, trying hard to hide the small smile forming on your lips.

You wonder how many versions of Satoru you’ll meet in your lifetime, and if this one, shy and nervous, will be one you’ll fit into the crevices of your heart just like all the others.

He grips his pants tighter, fabric bunching under his fingers, “When you hold my hand… those things. You get it.”

And you do (get it), so you don’t push, taking whatever Gojo has to give you like you always have.

The tension relieves from you slowly, comforted by the fact that at least he’s given you his reasons now (no matter how vague they still seem to be). That at least there are no non-answers this time.

You tell yourself that it’s okay, that you’re content as long as Gojo’s in your life even without the possibility of becoming something more.

“Ok—”

But there’s always one thing you forget about Gojo—

“So show me how.”

—in the moments you least expect it, he speaks the words that matter most.

You choose to show him slowly, gently, like the trickling introduction of water to a man who is first learning how to drink.

In the first few weeks of you and Gojo readjusting to one another, he turns on his infinity again—but only when he gets close enough to touch you. Lunches together happen more often, dinners sometimes too. Then he puts his infinity down, indefinitely.

For the most part, your relationship falls into the usual steps of your dynamic with Gojo; there’s no pressure for anything and he likes that, appreciates the time you’re giving him to learn things at his own pace.

The faculty room is cold, especially during winter. The heating system is never warm enough to keep your hands from shaking whenever you mix your morning coffee.

“So loud so early,” Gojo saunters into the kitchen, hands in pockets as he approaches the pantry.

You stop mixing, ceasing the clinking of the spoon against your mug. “How are you not freezing?”

He shrugs, grabbing his box of (heavily sugared) cereal. “I guess I’m just hot.” he says, turning to wiggle his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes and set your coffee on the table, Gojo following with a bowl brimming with cereal and milk.

Mornings usually consist of you and Gojo, with an occasional new hire who has an early class that day. Most of the time, it’s just you two though, with Shoko coming in much closer to lunch time already.

“Want some?” he asks, holding out his spoon.

It’s routine—Gojo asks and you decline, choosing to save yourself from the cavities that he somehow manages to evade despite having a diet of 80% sugar.

Today though, you’re feeling a little adventurous.

“Too sweet,” you scrunch your face, swallowing down the copious amount of sugar you’ll feel for days.

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Gojo throughout this whole relationship trial period, he recovers from any state within a nanosecond. There’s no end to how shameless he can be.

“Like me, right?” he winks.

“Sure,” you drawl sarcastically and Gojo smiles like it’s high praise.

You sip your coffee slowly, revelling in the heat that flows down your throat.

“Can I have half of that?” you point to his bowl. Gojo looks at you, confused, but slides it over anyway.

What happens next is an abomination to Gojo’s eyes—pure absolute disgust: you pour half of his cereal into your coffee and mix, sipping and crunching on a few pieces every now and then.

His face contorts into complete distaste, horror and revulsion in the way his mouth hangs open.

“What are you doing? That’s gross!” he nearly yells, reaching over to bring your mug down. His hand covers yours for a moment, the contact still causing gallops in his heartbeat.

You laugh, giggling as he processes what you’d wasted his cereal on. It honestly doesn’t taste that bad, you think.

“You’re weird,” he says to you, the grin on his face uncontained. This morning, he feels fond, like the butterflies in his stomach are warm, tickling him from the inside. “Give me.” he motions to your mug.

You hold it up for him to take a sip but he keeps his hand over yours when he tastes, sticking his tongue out once the bitterness of your coffee hits. You set the mug down, preparing to reach for your spoon, but he takes your hand in his, long fingers slotting right between yours, interlacing.

Gojo doesn’t normally reach for your hand, much less interlace them together (a recent evolution to your hand-holding), but this feels nice, how your fingers fit right in the spaces of his.

You turn to him, a shy smile on your face. The tips of his ears are blush red but he looks at you the same, “Your hands were cold,” he pouts, “is this– is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s warm. Thank you, Satoru.” you nod, beaming. And it’s not a competition but he hopes you see the light in his eyes, how it feels to be ignited within him only when he’s spending breakfasts like this with you.

Shoko asks what you are and you don’t know what to tell her other than you’re happy and it’s good. Gojo’s existence is loud and vibrant, easy to spot from miles away—but he cares for you discreetly, in the hand that gently rests on your lower back while crossing the street, and the seemingly unlimited supply of your favorite coffee when you have no recollection of restocking it ever.

He gives you a new mug for Christmas, one with little cereals painted all over while you give him his own tube of hand cream that he claims always smells like you.

During the faculty New Year celebration, you overhear one of the new hires make a move on Gojo. You aren’t bothered by it or anything, simply walking past to sip your sake by the couch. You can hear them talk a bit from the kitchen, but you try not to pry despite how curious you are about his response.

Until—

“I’m taken,” you hear Gojo say bluntly.

Everything rings in your ears after that. The countdown music is loud, but your heart beats louder; there are murmurs and footsteps around you, but only one man crouches down to check on you, glass of water in hand.

You snap out of it and see blue, the sky—a familiar light; you don’t think you can control the smile on your face, the alcohol lowering your inhibitions to paint on something lovesick.

And when he smiles back, pink lips stretching wide—oh your heart can’t take it. He places one hand on your knee, rubbing gently. You hear it faintly, how he asks if you’re okay, but all you can do is nod, words failing to express how you feel right now.

The countdown starts. 3 — and you take his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks to an image of him on your phone from many, many years ago. 2 — you go closer and his eyes go wide, a mixture of panic and surprise, but soft at the same time. 1 — you lean in and his eyelids fall shut, his chest on rampage. Then it lands, there, on the tip of his nose: a delicate peck and the smell of sake mixed with mint (like the lip balm you always carry around in your pocket).

When you pull away from him, you’re smiling the biggest he’s ever seen, and he can’t feel it from how numb his cheeks have become, but he’s doing the same.

That kiss to his nose serves as the catalyst to the months that follow: Gojo becomes more comfortable touching you now, and though he blushes every single time, there’s nothing to be ashamed of because you do too. Shoko can’t believe the slow burn this is taking you both, having watched this on the sides since you were both 22, but you think you like it—like the slow drizzle of honey on Gojo’s favorite breakfast waffles.

“How is it?” you ask, watching as Gojo takes a big bite.

“D Beft.” he replies, mouth full as he chews. You take the seat beside him and take a spoonful.

“There’s a secret ingredient.” you say mischievously, wiggling your eyebrows.

He swallows before he scoffs, “What?” cutting up another piece, “Love?”

You’re surprised because he says it so casually, and Gojo’s never talked about love, has never even mentioned the word since this shift in your relationship. He realizes a beat late by the expression on your face and gets flustered, thinking immediately of ways to brush past it.

You had meant to say that you used that infused sugar he buys whenever he goes to Kyoto, but… you suppose love works too. He should know by now, right?

“If it is?” you whisper, pretending to stir your coffee.

Gojo doesn’t know how to approach this, really, but he’s come too far to back out now. He clears his throat, mentally running through what he wants to say, then, “Good. ‘Cause that’s what I put in your coffee too.”

You laugh and the tension dissipates; there are hearts in your eyes for how hard Gojo has tried after denying himself of this for so long.

He stares at you—at the laugh lines by your eyes and the soft curves of your lips, the moment moving much too slow, stop motion in his mind. He’s drawn in until you’re all too close, a few centimeters from your noses touching.

Your laughter dies and your cheeks feel like they’re on fire; he’s so close you think he might kiss you. The signs are there—his eyes scaling your face to focus on your lips, his tongue peeping ever so slightly to wet his lips.

So you wait.

But he doesn’t, because he moves away after wiping his thumb on the side of your mouth. Even though you know there was nothing there.

Gojo continues to eat, blabbering about a site visit he’s assigned to next week, but you don’t miss the way his ears are fully red and how he’s biting his lips to death.

The tension this time is different; instead of a growing rift, you can’t seem to be close enough. Every time you part ways, he lets go of your hand more reluctantly—as if he wants to say more, do more, but stops himself while he still can.

Your near-kisses with Gojo happen more frequently, and it comes to a point where he even manages to land one on your forehead, while you fall asleep next to him on his office couch.

It’s driving you crazy, this tension—the mixed signals of it all. You try to kiss him a few times on the lips, but he evades them each time. You’ve caught Gojo staring at your lips more times than you can count; if that isn’t a sign, you don’t know what is.

Now that Gojo thinks about it, he’s come so far yet the prospect of kissing you properly still scares him. What if he fucks up? Doesn’t do it right? What if it’s not how he wants you to be kissed?

There’s that secret Gojo will never tell you, of how seeing that look on you has never gotten him more afraid. And he’s worked through that now, but it’s evolved into something else: how Gojo is now afraid of love, more than anything else, not because of loss but because he might not know how.

And kissing you, loving you this way—he’s never done it before, doesn’t know how to make you feel love without his lips shaking and heart palpitating; how to do it while letting you know he feels the same.

It happens during an assignment out of town. Curses aren’t as bad as they used to be, but they’re still stronger than what any of the available sorcerers right now can handle.

You don’t remember the last time you saw Gojo use his technique that way—almost forgotten how powerful and ruthless he can be. Every time since, holding your hand, keeping you close—he’s just been your Satoru.

Your apartment for the weekend is a two-bedroom unit with one bathroom and a decently sized living area and kitchenette; Gojo always chooses the room in front of the bathroom because he tends to wake up in the middle of the night to pee (information you know from your many other assignments with him before). Still, going as what you are now—it feels different.

There’s a charged air between you as you move around the unit; you make your nightly tea while Gojo looks through the groceries for some crackers. It’s peaceful and quiet—domestic almost, but there are goosebumps on your skin for reasons you can’t explain. Being around Gojo lately has felt that way.

He brushes past you to throw the finished packet of crackers and the feeling intensifies; it’s not awkward, just tense, like anticipation sitting deep in your bellies, waiting on each other to make the first move.

He announces that he’ll use the bathroom first, if you don’t mind, and you motion for him to go ahead. Your mind is fuzzy and having Gojo around seems to only make it worse.

When you walk past the bathroom and straight to your room, you hear Gojo humming that soft pop tune from a popular girl group on the radio earlier. You giggle, thinking it’s sweet—how he sings obnoxiously around everyone else but is admittedly pretty good when it’s just him, alone.

You still have the rest of the weekend in this area, having agreed to monitor the site and any nearby locations for other suspicious activity, but at least the worst of it is over (maybe just to you though; Gojo hates paperwork).

The sound of running water stops and you hear the bathroom door swing open. You don’t see Gojo when you exit your room but he leaves the door open to release any remaining steam.

There’s a reason why people say showers are good for the mind. You’re happy for those who’ve found it, but that couldn’t be you, because the only thought plaguing your head right now is Gojo—and whether you should greet him goodnight, if you should kiss his cheek or hug him tight. The tension between you now is palpable, an electric current waiting to zap on both ends.

Your mind is so out of it that you don't realize you’re missing your skincare bag until after you finish brushing your teeth and dressing for bed. You open the bathroom door with the sole intention of going back to your room to get it, but instead, you’re met with a wall of chest.

Gojo’s eyes are wide, bright blue with damp strands of white falling like curtains barely shielding the sky. He’s just as surprised as you are, toothbrush in his hand as you hold up the towel wrapped around your head.

You’ve seen Gojo in his pajamas many times before—white long sleeves with gray cotton pants, but your eyes trail to his collarbones and the way the bathroom lights cast it under a soft glow. The redness on his cheeks, a visual manifestation of the heat on yours.

Gojo can’t stop staring at your lips, at how soft they look—at how soft you look fresh out of the shower. The little baby hairs sticking out under your towel are cute, and he leans in without knowing—a pull he can’t seem to resist. For once in his life, Gojo’s mind is still.

You try to meet him halfway, tiptoeing, but you’re a little out of your element; you don’t know where to put your hands and your heart’s about to explode out of your chest. When your noses touch, you can’t breathe, closing your eyes while you wait for it.

But it doesn’t come.

You feel Gojo’s breath stilling before speeding up into little exhales. Something is wrong. You open your eyes and find him staring back at you, a version of Gojo you haven’t seen in a while—that you rarely see ever, except that day during your confrontation in his office.

Concern laces your features and you move back a little, hands coming up to caress his cheeks. His eyes still look frantic, but they focus on you when you cup his face so gently.

“Satoru,” you whisper, voice grounding. His breaths slow down a little.

You realize that it must be true then, what they say, that those who love to be feared, fear to be loved, because you’ve never seen anyone afraid of something so good as Gojo is of this.

“Satoru,” you repeat, massaging his temples with your thumb, “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,�� he chokes out, “I just don’t know—”

You chuckle, without judgment, “I don’t either,” you lean forward, foreheads touching, “but do you want to try together?”

When you look at Gojo, you see a heart so big, so capable, that he can’t see it himself.

You nudge his nose with yours and he breathes deeply, closing his eyes once again. If he doesn’t do this now, how much longer ‘till he does?

Gojo hums before nodding his head slightly. His hands come up to cover yours, toothbrush wedged in the spaces between his fingers; they’re clammy, he’s sure, but he’s kept you waiting long enough.

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, everything trembles—his pupils, his lips, the breath he takes. It’s all shaky and nervous, but your lips touch and all you know is that you like it there. He’s a little bit stiff but you don’t mind, pressing closer just for a little bit before pulling away.

Gojo keeps your hands in place, half-lidded eyes staring at you lazily. His ears are fully red now but he’s giving you a look you’ve never seen before—like lightning crackling in the gaps between his eyelids.

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, you don’t expect it to be by the bathroom door of a rented apartment, while away on a mission. You don’t expect it to be in your pajamas, towel wrapped around your hair as you’re getting ready for bed. You definitely don’t expect him to guide your hands down his neck while he places his on your lower back, squeezing lightly before pulling you in to kiss you again.

This time, his lips move more pliantly, parting yours slightly; he tastes mint, mixed with the strawberry candy he had earlier and it’s nothing he could have ever imagined before, but is now everything he’s ever wanted. The push and pull between you is magnetic, soft lips and the intermingling of held breaths. All Gojo can think of now is to take, to devour—to keep you with him, like this, always.

You wonder if Gojo is lying—that he’s never done this before, because you don’t think you can kiss anyone after this and not think of his lips on yours.

By the time you part, the air is significantly warmer. Your fingers thread through the hair at the base of his neck and you smile, sighing. Gojo looks warm, with his swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

“That…” you trail off, nudging his nose.

Gojo looks at you fondly; to ever even think he could have this now, with you—he doesn’t believe in any higher being but you must be his prayer come true.

“We can practice a bit more, I think.” he pulls you closer, hands gripping your hips.

You feel it against you, something solid and firm against your stomach and your eyes go wide at the realization; Gojo does the same.

“Satoru, you–” he moves back and freezes, untangling himself from you completely. There’s a faint outline on the crotch of his pants and your whole face goes red.

“Let me use the bathroom real quick.” he panics, rushing past you and closing the bathroom door.

You stand there stunned for a good minute before you shake out of it, laughing. Gojo yells about how you’re being so mean, making fun of him when he’s like this, but you aren’t—not really.

It’s been a long time getting to this point with Gojo, but considering all things, you think, this might just be the beginning.

thank you notes: i would also like to shoutout @stellamancer for leaving such lovely comments on dybil that it actually kinda pushed me to write this longer piece connected to it!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#THIS IS A MESS IM SORRY SEL </3 i get so scatterbrained when im writing these out bc theres always so much i wanna say aaaa T_T #but!! i hope u can feel my love … i am sending it to u telepathically. kissing ur forehead for having such a huge brain #now onto ur gumi fic and sugu drabble i am SO excited #shy nervy gojo literally obliterated me btw i dunno if i made that clear enough #i had to stop reading for a while bc i started experiencing rapid symptoms of heart palpitations PJSBDBD #SEL!GOJO THE ABSOLUTE LOML <3333333 i wanna feed him treats #im keeping this fic so close to my heart always and forever!!!!!! putting it in a lil locket :>

3K notes · View notes

chesterleprince · 3 months ago

Text

Delirious Samson

seamless strings pull me, bulling.

senseless maid, my senses made,

the endings waste, I sense a nay.

raiding my empty state,

lay in my letters, saint.

strangely I'm set in ways,

raging like "miss you babe".

magis mace is laced,

laced, but her love is late.

waiting, the dove is fake,

why is this oven caked?

her size like above me raised,

I cry for her substance, mamed.

Im the mime that is sullen, lame,

so lame, see me ruptured cased,

cased in a lustless lake,

submerged under rain,

allure is above the cain.

the sinner stands,

look into a mirror,

see that the mirrors damned.

leave me, I'm in the sand,

little lamb, her glasses hiding her face.

a face ready for war,

her face, one that heaven adored,

she's truly jeshua born,

over me sentinals walked.

I'm not ready for anything,

but Ill be dead if you want.

If you desire I'll be your pawn,

I'll be your dwarf,

I'll be your sword,

that cuts nothing, except every liar you saw.

But I'm a liar, I'm a fire that burns you,

If I find you I hurt you.

involuntarily,

my skin crawls just forget me,

never miss me.

I'm the bricks that drown you,

a foul fool just listless.

kiss me, don't kiss me.

kill me but don't kill me.

strip me of my insides,

catch my heart in your palm,

stab my love, it is yours.

light me on fire,

just don't fight me I'm tired.

not alive in this quiet,

cut my wire Im silent.

only silent for you,

cut my rise into two.

gold is your iris,

cold in your eyelids,

hope that I'm dying,

a pool that I dive in.

you're soothing lightning,

If I make a move just strike me,

since I'm doomed, fucked, bite me.

feeling the pain that I'm causing,

stealing your faith like I'm lawless.

you're a goddess, I am only sawdust.

since I am so appalling,

live your life like I'm no cause in,

the cause to your demise.

If I'm the prophet paul,

just scavange my organs, and write it copper gone.

sell these valuables,

dwell in a dragons home,

heat you can't fathom, nope.

seizing, I let you go.

shaking, my rope it is quaking.

dangerous, loathed by,

the famous, approached.

if you want I am taking an oath.

Should I be racing towards,

you like a rhino?

am I just casing your home, or beside you?

You changed me to job since your arrival.

a cape or a cloak? I cant decide. You?

lately Im roped into sailing your boat,

I am tailing your hope,

close to where it leads,

but you rose above me,

or so it seems.

it seems like it.

leave me and see me turn into a cheap lycan,

Justify the means like this,

the end it just seems frightening.

I seek guidance,

and you might just be the type to,

keep fighting,

Achieve highness.

or better put you're god and I'm just a leased sideman.

but the lease is running out,

never been this fucking proud,

but it seems like time is running out.

running quickly,

rummage this fucking city,

till I find something simply.

simple and nice, like me but not quite.

siege the last castle,

appear before me like that's that,

the last laugh.

but yours is never the last.

my corpse is steadily smashed.

merrily manned, as married as man is, Mary is man.

stirring my casket,

scratching, she's curing my madness.

delirious samson,

until the day I die,

I'm like the curious cat is.

I'm a murderous manic?

the only thing I've ever done is murder our marriage.

so nervous,

nervous around you.

in earth sitting like turnips I'm serving.

her allure's hitting me like scalpels from surgeons.

I know no one,

a damaging person.

it's sad but hilarious.

unearthed from the dragons den,

necropolis, darius.

I'm searching for remington,

bullets of adamantium.

silver the dagger that's piercing my lariat.

licked clean?

there's nothing on that dagger.

only her hope,

slowly, very slowly I'm laid.

the cloud that carries us,

only for angels, she's carried up.

burn if I go there,

surely I'm nowhere,

appear clear,

in my lair, that's rare.

omen is unopened,

only elope if sun's stolen.

sleeping silently,

dont believe in lionry,

only feed feats, I feel cyrusly.

demise is rising,

sir rye is ryeless.

halo of paper,

ceylon is savoured.

the mason is mayoured.

raise mo to mayham.

elate rope, reaps razors.

goodnight and a bye,

survive not arrive.

constant cold core,

warring woes, walled,

the wows wrought.

I vow force will never blind me,

my course is seeded blindly.

no remorse, my weeping sightly,

so sighlty but silently.

I'm rising out the advisory,

revising my effort rhymelessly.

I seek a better livelihood,

I unsheath my dagger silently,

achieve that my letters, milelessly.

no reason for my debauchery,

I'm seasoned at the fire of shaytans lava leak.

I reak of my sire, his chains are comradery.

free is the wire that hangs me at the waterwheel.

sinning still praying,

stilled by your sacred.

satiated by your famous faces.

race against mace.

the lady I love doesn't want me anymore

the lady I loath is still the lady that won't.

0 notes

pwblogarchive · 3 months ago

Text

July 2004

July 5, 2004

“Its Such A Joke How Every Song I Ever Write Is”

we’re getting close. i think we might do one more video for TTTYG. the song is gonna be one thats gonna suprise you, because its our favorite one off the record. if it happens, the band is gonna write the video and act in it- cross your fingers and we’ll see what goes down.

has anybody noticed how cliche, selfserving and overdamatic this journal has become? me too.

peter wentz- president of the FOB drama club

love never wanted me but i took it anyway. and there aint a pill that can keep you from my mind- there aint a siren that can keep me from your window. didn’t you hear the word on the streets? i’m getting by on obsession, baby.

p.s. my hair is now black, im here for your heart.

July 7, 2004

“And I Dont Care If Im Just Like The Boys I Trash In All These Songs…”

heard a bunch of the new academy record- you are gonna be suprised. dont sleep. this thing is good and not just in a “my friends are in this band” kind of good, i’d like it even if i didn’t know those geeks. they are like my little brothers. sorry i cut out of the show fast tonight. im not feeling so great about some friends lately. i don’t get “it” but i get it.

if you have any crazy home footage (like the time you and your brother glued yourselves together or whatever) send it to us. we are gonna include a section for it on the release the bats dvd- send it and a release (a piece of paper saying you release the footage and your image to be used by clandestine industries) to: Release the bats DVD at 900 forest. wilmette, il 60091- we need it this month. expect it to drop this fall around the TBS tour.

peter

we joked about the kids who used to be just like us- sick inside of their own skin.

i dropped an “i love you” thankgod it got caught in the wind.

you shouldnt have come back here alone. i’m a shark, baby. and theres blood in the water.

July 8, 2004

“Clip My Wings, I Don’t Deserve The Sky”

I must confess how much I love touring here and seeing old friends. Please come say hi.

I also must confess my serious ashlee simpson crush.

Peterabbit

July 12, 2004

“I Would Forgive You But You Could Never Forgive Yourself”

sooo. this half of tour has been hot. hot and fun. there has been lots of drama in my life. i apologize for being out of it. so st. louis- i got hot. i got delirious. i made some weird decisions. i smashed a bass. said weird stuff. left the stage. threw up. asked bill from the academy to get me some FOB booty shorts and tell the crowd i quit fall out boy. then i yelled into a megaphone. got into skimpy shorts and ran around on stage playing.

Oh yeah all these ideas seemed really funny at the time, now not so funny.

i apologize for anyone who had to see my legs in shorts.

that was the hottest i have ever been in my entire life.

peter

texas is the reason.

July 14, 2004

“Which One Is It Gonna Be The Smile Or The Voice Cause You Can’t Have Both”

For some reason texas air feels right on my lungs. I can’t wait to hit the coast. The stars out here are playing jokes on me. These shows have felt pretty good too. Me and patrick wrote a new one today, it gonna make you dance.

July 15, 2004

its been awhile. i apologize. i can't say i haven't missed you. i need to write more. i think i start to lose it otherwise.

sometimes it all just feels so fucking on. if you don't get that, i'm sorry i cant explain it.

seeing this country in the summer in a van leaves me breathless. get off the computer and go out and fall in love with someone or something.

you gotta know you have my heart.

- petey

July 15, 2004

“Its Like Chris Said”

New mexico was great for never having been there before. People were so welcoming. I got electrocuted. That was not so great. I’ve got to stop reading the internet, it bums me out a lot. Okay I’m through with (me) all the complaining. I feel like I am holding my breath all the time. A nervous stuttering wreck, and then you don’t like me anyway. I’ve got it figured out, none of it matters. Either: you love to hate me or you hate to love me. But for the record you are my favorites anyway.

Love peter Oh yeah. Hey j.m. Remember that boy I was always nervous about you hanging out with, the one I hated? When did I become him? I dunno, but I did. I’m sorry. For the record I hope you’re doing alright.

July 16, 2004

There’s a part of me that thinks that things might turn out alright. But there’s another part that hopes you didn’t leave your hotel key between pages of the bible iin the drawer.

- petey

July 16, 2004

“Nobody Puts Pete The Baby In The Corner”

Sometimes I just write when I am in a bad mood. And often what comes out is trite and depressing. I am sorry. As I sit here with my posture clearly indicating hours on a glowing screen filled with meaningless words, my middle finger calloused and crooked from writing for hours a day in a notebook that seems filled as soon as a new one it bought. With this keyboard I take AIM on nothing and don’t really care. My wrists feel like they’d slit themselves if I let them, they want out (so do I). Then I remind myself I am out with my bestfriends and having the time of my life. My hotel room was next to a palm tree,

I slept well and dream free.

That was me beng a baby. It happens. You have all always been so nice so don’t even sweat it. Just deal with me getting “emo” sometimes.

July 18, 2004

A lot of people have been asking for this. Here’s a bit from our new song- we don’t take hits, we write them….

Find myself on the street out in front of your house so you can kiss safe thoughts good bye. I’m coming up to break your heart. You’re sleeping with the light on like you’re dying to be found out.

I need to take a break from the internet for awhile. I think you’re getting to me love.

- petey

July 18, 2004

“This Place Is A Prison And These People Aren’t Your Friends”

I heard somebody once say “if you love something set it free”

But we’re doomed to crash with these clipped wings

July 25, 2004

“I Aint Dropping No Sympathy… On You Cause Youre Living Lives Way Too Complete For Me…”

its only always been about dropping tears and names. its just a song. so forget all the questions. the stories getting old - but we’ll always be the homewreckers with the hearts of gold.

dont believe in someone who never believed in anything.

July 25, 2004

“No Time For Love, Dr. Jones, We Got Trouble”

I’m gonna miss california. This trip to the west coast was what I needed.

Peter

July 27, 2004

“Status Report”

Lots going on. We’re gonna miss the west coast…. Also. Were gonna have some new merch for warped tour: a shirt that has 8 of our early shirts on it for the collectors, a fob drama club shirt, scene point pins and more. So come by and check it out. Secondly, we aren’t/didn’t play warped in your town because they didn’t ask us to not because we didn’t want to so don’t believe the hype.

Also, our friends in gym class heroes will be playing the bnd tour with us on august 1 in davenport, iowa and then I am setting up a show again for them in chicago on august 3, so come check them out. They are the next big thing, better than atmosphere.

Lastly, I guess some people have told the guys in new found glory we were shittalking them in our dvd. That is the farthest thing from the truth. I knew chad when he was in shai hulud and have always looked up to nfg. That is a band that did it right and I have more respect for than any other band in our genre. We goofed around on a video three years ago to try and trick some girl. That’s it. No drama. So if you are going to warped before we get on it, stop by nfg and tell them fall out boy loves them for us.

There’s no other band out there that did it like them.

Didn’t we tell you the fob drama club was in full effect.

Pete

July 30, 2004

after awhile when you bounce back and forth between different hearts nothing gets old. you never really have to mean anything to anyone. i have intimacy problems with the world. her eyes are blackened around the edges so much that she looks like a racoon. they look like permenant black eyes- the consumate victim. everybody loves the victim. he can’t put his finger on what it reminds him of but the closest he can come are old zombie movies. she’s made-up to look half dead- which still beats most of them who are just half-alive anyway. her hair looked like rows of shark teeth dyed over dye jobs like she was running away from her natural color. noone wants to be what they are. she looks independent in a very vulnerable way. the safest kind of dangerous. we drove around the city so she could alternate between cigarettes and coffee. we talk about the kids we hate just so we have something to agree about. they used to be just like us. we’re sitting on the edge of her bed. every single inch on your body is filled with millions of nerves. somewhere inside your brain neurons have fired to synapses and put them on alert. when your hands brush hers it feels electric. every movement has a meaning, either yes or no. its getting later and later. the conversation and the possibilities are running out. last call. this is a war. everytime she moves her hand to her hair she is sending you signals. stay or leave. why can’t you figure them out. don’t strike first. wait until you are tired enough to make a move. lean in to kiss her bringing an awkward break in conversation. as you pull back she keeps talking about writers and bands she thinks will make her look cooler. but your fooled if only because you are worried she has found you out. push your tongue into her mouth too keep the right words from spilling out. her sheets smell like stale cigarettes smoked by boys who were me on nights before. she has a body that is built for sex. the kind a kid like me wouldn’t know what to do with if we had half the chance. imagine the chemistry of swallowed DNA. she has a scar that runs down her back right along the spine, like somebody tried to steal it. i joked her like this: “someone must have ignored the blue prints, look at all the structural damage”. but i stuttered and trailed off. the smoke curled off of her lips. for a second i was dying to be it. dying to be as clever and kissable as her. there she was sitting in front of me, knee pulled up to to her chin. smoking a cigarrette thinking of something or someone else. and thats how she will be stuck in my mind forever. two explorers in the dark, mapless and hopeless. alone together. its funny how easy it is to sleep with someone, but how hard it is to sleep next to someone. it’s too intimate. it makes my heartbeat race and pound inside my head. it is deafening. i slide my arm from behind her head and slip out the door. the pavement on the sidewalk is watching me go over every moment in my head. it’s watching me remember you. mistake by mistake. frame by frame. we’re not just taking trips down memory lane, we are broken down on it.

- petey

July 30, 2004

“Gbet Down With A Sickness”

i am sick. colorado was insane. sorry the show sold out so quickly, we had no idea. somebody bring me some fireworks to the iowa shows so i can shoot them at people and feel better. this is a part of this other book i have been working on: www.fueledbyramen.com/journal its a bit different than the boy with the thorn in his side.

you have no idea.

peter

#livejournal #pete wentz #fall out boy #pete wentz livejournal

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sin-of-jess · 3 years ago

Text

Sugimoto Saichi

With Golden Kamuy being my second favorite anime of all time, I decided to get my writing going again with my favorite man!

Type: Smut

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No one in the group expected the bridge to collapse, except Asirpa of course, whose warning fell onto deaf ears. Being the most prepared for the inevitable she was able to grab onto the edge of the rubble and climb back onto the side of the rushing river. I was the closest one to Sugimoto, and therefore it was my waist he had grabbed before grabbing at the overhang of a huge bush. It nearly gave way to the sudden weight, but Sugimoto was able to pull the pair up onto the bank of the river. The pair were heaving, Sugimoto even heavier thanks to the exertion of energy it took to pull them. Up a small hill to the left was the edge of a roof, and I silently hoped whoever was in there would be kind enough to let us dry off.

"W-where are we going?" Sugimoto mumbled out through blue-tinted lips. It was still weeks away until spring, and the harsh, cold winds were making it feel as it would never come. I could barely feel Sugimoto's drenched jacket on my fingers as I feebly gripped it to guide him, "There's a ho-house over the-ere. W-we need to g-get warm." I struggled out. It wasn't too far away, and the busted fish rack made it safe to assume a fisherman lived here. Sugimoto took the lead, opening the door and poking his head in, "Hello? Anyone here?" He asked with silence as the only answer. I push him in gently, and it's safe to assume with the dust and lack of personal items that this place had been long abandoned. I grab an overturned chair and toss it into the firepit in the middle of the room, now looking around for anything that could fill in the open parts of the chair and effectively burn. "Hurry and help me find things to burn!" Sugimoto rushes over to a trunk and pulls up the lid, rifling around and grabbing any loose papers and other burnable items. Between the two of us, we find enough flammable items to stuff under the chair and light. Sugimoto starts to undress and I blush as I grip the fabric around my neck, flustered at what I knew I needed to do. Sugimoto looks in my direction as he grips the latch on his belt, "You'll get sick in those, lay your clothes over there to dry." He tells me, voice kind as he knows why I'm being hesitant, and decides to turn fully away to finish undressing. Taking my heavy kimono off wasn't the hard part, it was the thin fabric that protected my decency that felt impossible to remove. As many times as I fantasized about removing my clothes in front of the ex-soldier near me, this moment felt far more awkward than I could imagine. I could hear shuffling, and I looked over my shoulder to see Sugimoto had sat with feet planted dangerously close to the pit, his knees bent as he leaned forward and between his legs to warm his hands on the fire, "Modesty won't keep you from dying of hypothermia," He warned me, and I sighed deeply as I let the fabric drop from my body. It felt 10x more awkward to bend over to situate it so that my clothes would dry evenly, but I couldn't tell if the redness on his cheeks was from the cold or a blush. I sat a few inches from the still shivering man, but we might as well have been touching skin with how nervous I felt. I felt delirious with excitement and shame, but I let my body do its thing as I scootched closer to the still-shaking man. He looks over at me curiously, and I awkwardly smile back at him. "Being closer will help warm me-uh us, warm-up." I nervously stuttered back. He followed suit and shifted so that he could wrap his arm around my shoulder and bring me to his side. It was my turn to look at him curiously, and he almost mimics my previous statement, "It'll warm us up faster." It had to be the delirium, cause I could swear his gaze was lustful. When his gaze turns to my lips and he licks his own my stomach twists, was I really going to push the boundary of our friendship? "Y/N..." The way he says my name sends a shiver down my spine and I lean up to him, excitement flooding through me when he leans in to meet my lips with his. He quickly wraps his other arm around me to bring me in, my hand sliding up his head so I can slide my fingers through his wet hair. He dips me slightly, hovering over me as our bodies come closer together. Eventually, my back hits the cool floor and I wrap both my arms around his neck as he moves between my legs. His lips leave mine as he peppered kisses along my jaw and down my neck. I let out a breathless moan when he lingers on my collarbone, his hands massaging my hips as he made his way down. He focused on my chest for only a moment, kissing around my nipple before latching his lips onto the hardened bud. He keeps one hand on my left breast as his lips and now tongue travel past my navel and closer to my pubic mound. My breathe hitches at the sensation, squirming in anticipation over what was to come. He pauses at my slit for only a moment before sliding his tongue between my folds and giving me a long lick. I shamelessly moan, dropping my arm over my eyes as Sugimoto devours me. I never had someone focus so hard on pleasing me and I can only moan out his name as he alternates between sucking my clit and shoving his tongue as deep into my pussy as he can. He's ravenous as he eats me out, like a starved man at the buffet reserved for an Emperor. I've never felt an orgasm like this, and I desperately grip his hair as I wail out. He doesn't slow, following me as my hips jerk and spasm from the pleasure. As I come down from my high I tug at him, "Sugimoto, please," I whimper out to him, surprised at my own taste as he catches my lips with a kiss. I can feel his cock bounce off my thigh and my pussy clenches. I reach down and grip him, pleasantly surprised at the soft moan that comes from him when I pump him. He leans his hips down and I move to guide him, my breathe bated as I feel the tip of the head push inside me. He slides into me and stills, asking if I'm okay. I grip his shoulders and groan out a yes, whining in pleasure as he slides out and pushes in again. Confidence grows as he starts at a steady pace, my breathless moans and my back arching encouraging him. He props himself with his arm beside my head, his other arm wrapping around my leg at the knee to pull my legs apart more. The new angle has him hitting just the right spot and my grip on his shoulders tighten, my hips slamming back into his as I chase the high of cumming again. He adjusts the both of us so that he can crane his neck down and slip my nipple in his mouth, leaning into the wet touch as he swirls his tongue around. "Please, I'm close Sugimoto..." I speak out, gripping his hair and pulling him back to my face for a kiss. As he covers my face with open mouth kisses he thrusts faster, letting himself fall into the pleasure as small moans slip out. To hear such a strong and dangerous man moan so weakly into my ear was enough to guide me over the edge again; to stay in this exact moment would be eternal bliss. He finally releases my leg to grab my ass, pushing deep inside me in a way no one had ever done. It was as if we were floating in the sky as my final orgasm ripped through me, eyes rolling into the back of my head as my body shakes uncontrollably. Sugimoto moans out my name as his hips snap before stilling, filling me with his warmth. He keeps himself propped up as we both breathe deeply in an attempt to catch our breath. Sugimoto sits up enough for us to lock eyes, and we both smile softly at each other. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, we hear a voice. "Look, maybe they're in there!" We could hear Shiraishi say. Our eyes widen, and we scramble over to our still half-damp clothes. My kimono barely concealed me when the group busted into the room. "Warmth!" Shiraishi shrieks, diving towards the fire that was starting to crumble as the wood turns into ash. Suddenly the man tilts his head slightly as he sniffs the air, cocking a curious brow at us. Sugimoto gave a look that even Shiraishi could read that meant 'kept your damn mouth shut.' He gulps and looks back at the fire, and Sugimoto lets his face soften as he glances his way at me once more with a smile he'd never given me before.

#sugimoto saichi #gk sugimoto #sugimoto x reader #sugimoto x female reader #golden kamuy #golden kamuy x reader #golden kamuy x female reader

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dourpeep · 3 years ago

Note

IT WAS 2AM WHEN I SENT THAT SO I HELD BACK MY SIMPING FOR COLLEGE ALBEDO A LITTLE. tried not to send all my brainrot so I didn't just send a wall of text into your inbox LOL. Some others I thought of were:

- Mona giving astrology forecasts and compatibility readings in this au and Albedo may have asked her about the two of you

- Going to botanical gardens or museums with Albedo but for some reason it feels like a date even when it didn't intent to be. You tug on his sleeve now and then when you see something he might be interested in or even when it's something that excites you, and Albedo can't help but have a soft look in his eyes that he can share this moment with you! Somehow it results in the two of you holding hands - just so neither of you stray from each other of course - and eventually, intertwined fingers. You hear someone say that the two of you seem like a cute couple and you know Albedo heard it too, but neither of you say anything. You feel his hand squeeze yours a little tighter and respond in kind. The two of you are too embarrassed to look at each other but can't help the smiles on your faces.

- Lending Albedo some of your favourite books for pleasure reading and you've left tiny tabs on lines that you like. Perhaps this is before Albedo realizes his feelings so when he reads particularly romantic lines, he wonders if this is how he feels about you. Or did you mark these pages because you feel this way about someone? His stomach is in knots to the thought that you may be intrested in someone that isn't him and he settles for it just being prose.

WHAT YOU WROTE WAS SO CUTE AAA. THANK YOU FOR SIMPING FOR COLLEGE BEDO WITH ME!!

Tugging his hand and not letting go omg . . . you tend to just intertwine pinkies or play with his fingers absent-mindedly that Albedo becomes so accustomed to it so he starts to offer you his hands without a second thought.

WAIT. I gasped at Albedo being a cuddler. He's a little delirious when he first wakes up but you're so comfy that he hugs you a little tighter, asking if you've slept well. You try to reply while worrying about whether or not he can feel your heart thrumming in your chest.

What if Klee is staying with Albedo one night and the three of you fall asleep cuddled up together. Alice comes back early in the morning before any of you are awake and takes a picture. She sends it to Albedo later and he sets it as his phone's wallpaper.

Albedo staring at your lips winded me, thank you.

YES TO THE SWEATERS. I bet Albedo would have the softest and coziest sweaters too! Imagine it being a little cold out and you see Albedo across campus so you bound over to him and give him a hug. You nuzzle into him and mumble out a little 'hello' and say he's warm. You feel his laugh rumble through his chest while he greets you back, wrapping his arms around you

And I LOVE ALL YOUR HEADCANONS! I believe I found your blog around the time you posted Albedo's snort headcanon and it was too much for my heart!! I held tight to that headcanon and never let go lol. I also thought the science + college headcanons you had of him were really nice despite not being necessarily romantic!

Side note: I looked up that lobster fact and that's so cool!!

The Lobster Fact(tm) is my go-to ice breaker and it always fails. I'd imagine it's normally the same w/ Bedo OTL so sad...not many wish to know about potential lobster immortality.

I'm glad that you love the headcanons though!! I enjoy writing for Albedo so so much as you can tell ehe

That being said--if it makes you more comfy to send stuff in a few bursts of asks, I don't mind :DD I'll answer them as usual nodnod

OKIE DOKIE

"...Mona, yes?"

"Ah, I was expecting you to come around sooner or later, Kreideprinz."

Really, Albedo didn't mean to stumble upon the Astronomy major, but for some reason the thought of you has been on his mind and the campus' observatory just so happened to be on the way. With the meager hope that...maybe he'd find some sort of answer (in what, he wasn't really sure himself), there she was.

Luckily, she knew just what he was there for.

The moment that she twirls her hand with a wave, telling him that there isn't anything to worry about, the apprehension creeping within his chest at the thought of seeing you next-

disappeared.

It's not often that he turns to less orthodox methods, but he wouldn't lie. Knowing that--at least in Mona's opinion (which tended to be correct, anyway)--the two of you were undoubtly compatible? Something about how your constellations were intertwined...

In fact, Albedo turns a little theory around in his mind. Though based in old folktales, the idea that you gravitate towards those who are made of the very same stardust as yourself, suddenly made sense.

Or, perhaps he was just being hopeful.

Little does he know that you most definitely asked Mona about the same thing earlier that day.

AHHHHH BUT OF COURSE-

Any of those kinds of places--Botanical Gardens, Art Museums, Aquariums, Zoos, Museums in general--Any place where you're able to utterly lose yourself in your surroundings and look around in awe, really, are your go-to date outing destination!

Usually, it's just the two of you, maybe with Sucrose or Timaeus if it's for a particular class, as well as the occasional Klee in tow whenever Alice is busy with work.

But in this case, fingers interlocked, it's just the two of you on a impromptu trip to the art museum downtown after seeing a promotional banner about a new exhibit. Once inside, you rush along, Albedo trailing close behind with a light squeeze of your hand. The large area used for temporary exhibits isn't far from the entrance, so it's not long until you skid to a stop.

All along the walls are incredibly detailed oil paintings, the thin layered strokes glistening in the light. Albedo takes a moment to whisper to you about how oil paint works.

Due to the thinness of the paint and it's transparency, light passes through every carefully placed stroke, allowing for a unique sort of depth that isn't achievable with other painting media. You smile, the artificial light of the art exhibit making your features glow and Albedo can't help but wonder if you are like those paintings.

So complex, so carefully created in an image perfected with time. Your eyes search his and you say his name and Albedo clears his throat when he realizes he's been staring.

"Do you like this one?"

Ah, you must've assumed he took a liking to this particular painting.

His eyes shift back to it, taking in the sight of the balance of color, the composition, then back to you. He only stares a second longer before nodding.

Whether or not you realize the view he likes is you is something that he dwells on as you both make your way to the next painting.

If you had a penny for every time that someone comments on the way you compliment each other, you'd probably be able to pay off your tuition for next semester.

Okay, perhaps not, but the idea still stands.

You're only just at the end of the art exhibit when the security guard wishes the two of you a lovely date. Something about how young love is something to be treasured, something about how the two of you already seem so natural and comfortable in each other's presence.

Before you can mumble out an explanation, Albedo just squeezes your hand, gentle as always, and smiles.

It's a compliment, right? For someone to see how close you are, even if you really are just friends, is a good thing.

Ignoring the warmth that spreads over your cheeks, you smile and turn your head away shyly. Squeezing his hand back, the thought of what it'd be like if you were together crosses your mind.

Just as you lend books to him, he lends books to you. Surprisingly, this time it just so happens to be a poetry book--something that you expressed interest in a week ago but ended up not getting.

Within, he's left colorful notes with his neat, slanted writing.

Short discussions (presumably questions to himself) of what the poet must've been thinking, different possible scenarios, are peppered throughout the book. But one just so happens to catch your eye. Rather than a question, it's a statement. Simple, short, and...sweet.

'You carry the aura of the stars.'

The little yellow sticky note pasted beneath a love poem to the night sky stands out. Suppressing a flutter in your chest, you continue reading through the poem book with a few giggles at Albedo's musings until you find a note with most of the words crossed out.

It's entirely unlike him, the way that the dark ink scribbled over the words, making them illegible.

But at the bottom was a continued attempt--one you presume he was satisfied with by the way it lay pristine on the colorful paper.

'You look. I fail to speak.

Your mind, so brilliant as it is I wish to see behind To further appreciate the one I love.

I can only hope one day you shall let me in, So for now I wait patiently by your side.'

Who could he have written this for? You can't help but stare at the poetic attempt, knowing full well that Albedo seldom does something without meaning.

The book closes and you tuck it back on the shelf to ask about later.

AAAAA YESYESYESYES I LOVE THAT CUDDLE PILE W/ ALBEDO AND KLEE

Even though Albedo's a grade A student and certified genius (he's adamant in his denial, shaking his head and mumbling about how he just studies hard), he's not entirely a stickler for rules.

Well, that is, Aunt Alice's suggestion that Klee goes to bed by 9.

Instead, the three of you settle in the common room of Albedo's place in a bundle of pillows and blankets at the demands of a pillow fort.

The tv blinks on accompanied by the near silent click of the remote.

"What should we watch?"

Klee always ends up picking the movie. This time, she wants Alice in Wonderland, commenting on how the bunny is like her best friend Dodoco and the blonde girl on screen is named after mommy. Albedo doesn't bother correcting her, even though he knows quite well that dear, sweet Dodoco is a chinchilla.

Between sips of juice and a few mouthfuls of popcorn, the three of you fall asleep, Klee curled up besides you and Albedo's arm draped over you both.

Even when the sun is up in the sky, you sleep peacefully.

So, naturally, Aunt Alice has a spare key just in case something like this happens.

Immediately she's met with the sweetest view--her two kids (she's practically adopted Albedo as her own at this point) and--

Hiding a cheeky smile behind her hand, Alice can't help but sneak a little closer when she spies the way that you and Albedo somehow gravitated closer, his face buried in your hair and yours resting against his collar. Wedged between you with tousled hair, Klee snoozes peacefully.

She snaps a picture, followed by another, and another, and a fourth for good measures before meandering into the kitchen to prep something for breakfast.

Might as well let her three favorite people enjoy the comfort of sleep for a little longer...

You wake up the moment that Klee wiggles her way out of the blankets, nuzzling against the warmth radiating under your cheek.

Nice and cozy. Smells nice...wait.

Eyes fluttering open, you're met with a familiar birthmark and the nearly gone scent of Albedo's cologne.

You nearly pull away until the arm, now wrapped around your waist, pulls you closer accompanied by a satisfied sigh. Ah. You shut your eyes tight when you realize that Albedo's going to be asleep for at least another thirty minutes, resigning to your fate gladly.

Of course, Alice takes the opportunity to snap a few more pictures when you've finally fallen back asleep.

YES ALSO ALSO

Speaking of Albedo and sweaters and warm and also the just mentioned cologne. A little fun tidbit--not only are you familiar with the scent of his cologne because he wears it often, but it (in this au) is actually one that you picked out some time back. You probably were at the store together smelling some of the perfumes when you came across one that you were pleasantly surprised by.

Specifically, something that's lightly floral, a little warm but sweet with a hint of earthiness.

The pros? It fits Albedo perfectly! It also kinda sticks well and his place faintly smells of it.

The cons?? Well...you're embarrassed to say that hugging Albedo tends to drag on a little longer than anticipated because it's just such a comforting scent-

Not because you associate it with Albedo or anything-

Ehe

Man I really went to town again, didn't I?? Well, I'm glad that you enjoy my headcanons :DDD Albedo just seems like such a sweet person??? Like endearing in a way that just is...him. If that makes sense.

Brain go brrrrrr

I'll admit that my favorite headcanons for Bedo are mundane and domestic ones though! Like these! Just the little moments where there's nothing really going on except for him and you and ahhhh yesyesyes

Okay that's all-

#anon asks #albedo #albedo headcanons #genshin impact albedo #albedo x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fics #genshin impact drabbles #modern au #college au #modern au albedo

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griffintail · 4 years ago

Note

I’m surprised people think techno’s grief extends to pure violence. When it’s clear the news of his S/O death leaves him trembling on the floor, and letting out pained wails his first night alone. Leaving him delirious in denial as Philza has to keep watch to make sure he doesn’t kill himself trying to bring them back. And as the grief seeps in he is left to sleep through dreamless nights and live through thoughtless days. And at the end, acceptance isn’t voluntary, he’s too tired to do anything else. (Please write smth for this I can’t sleep this idea’s been eating at me for days)

I went a bit off script- I hope you still enjoy. :)

The Bolt

In-Game

Pairings: Technoblade x GN! Reader

Warnings: Death, Blood, Angst

Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Techno blocked the axe coming for his face with his shield as he chugged his last regeneration potion.

The last battle of L’Manberg was over and he needed to find (Y/N) and get home to safety. He gave a whistle that echoed across the battlefield before pushing Sapnap away from him. Booking it away, he went towards the meet-up spot Phil and (Y/N) had agreed with him.

“Phil, I want you to have the totem.” Techno held it out to his friend.

�� He saw Phil running from the wreckage the withers were causing as he could see the (H/C) head of hair weaving through the chaos. Techno lost his concentration as he stared at (Y/N), everything a dull roar as he smiled softly at their figure. Creating the scene of anarchy and chaos.

“Wait, I’m your damn fiancé, why don’t I get it?” (Y/N) gave a dramatic huff as they put a hand on their chest.

It was true, they both only had one life but…

“Because, you and I, we never die blood goddess,” Techno smirked.

“TECHNO!” They screamed.

He had missed seeing the crossbow aiming at him because he had been looking at (Y/N)…

He went to get his shield but he would be too slow…

Then there was a cracking as an ender pearl shattered in front of him and in a cloud of purple sparks appeared (Y/N), who gasped as they caught the crossbow bolt in the stomach.

“You’re such an idiot.” (Y/N) laughed. “Now! Let’s celebrate our freedom from the child by blowing up a nation!”

Techno laughed as he enjoyed the sparkle in their eyes at the thought of the anarchy.

“No, no, no!” Techno caught them as they fell, Jack quickly loading his crossbow again.

He needed to go.

Scooping them up, he bolted for where Phil was watching in wide-eyed shock. Phil managed to snap out of it though and covered Techno’s retreat as he tried to reassure (Y/N).

“It’s ok, we’re going to get you home, alright? Come on, you’re going to need to keep your eyes open for me beautiful.”

But (Y/N) winced before crying out as the crossbow bolt brought them pain. The voices were screaming in panic with them and Techno.

WE NEED TO GO FASTER! WE’RE OUT OF HEALTH POTIONS! WHY DID THEY TAKE THE BOLT! PHIL, HELP TECHNO! GO GO GO GO!

“I’m here mate!” Phil ran beside him now, taking off his jacket. “We got to keep pressure on it till we get to the potions. I sent a crow ahead to get one faster hopefully.”

Phil kept pace as pressed the jacket around the bleeding wound, (Y/N) letting out another scream. Techno wanted to scream himself as he ground his teeth together to keep himself together.

They had to cross the nether to get home!

They had so far to go!

That crow needed to get here yesterday!

“T-Techno.” (Y/N) sputtered.

“Quiet, keep your strength,” Techno demanded.

“I-I-I…” They muttered before their eyes blinked closed.

“We got to stop.” Phil panicked.

“We don’t have any potions!” Techno also panicked.

“We have to slow down the bleeding now!”

The pair stopped as Techno put (Y/N) down as Phil tried to work as fast as he could being the experienced healer. He tried to stem the bleeding as best he could, he couldn’t take the bolt out though and it had to have hit something important because there was too much damn blood!

Then a few minutes later…

(Y/N)’s chest stopping moving…

“No. No, no, no. Breath damn it!” Techno commanded, putting a hand on their shoulder.

“Techno…” Phil said quietly, tears in his eyes.

“Where’s your crow!?” Techno shouted. “We need a potion now!”

“…It’s not going to help Techno.”

“It has to! We—They’re not gone! They…they…”

Techno put his forehead on theirs as tears gathered in his eyes.

“Please…don’t leave me. I love you; I need you…”

But (Y/N) had fallen and lost their last life…

…

Techno had carried (Y/N) all the way home to the tundra and he held them for a while before he finally let himself bury them. Then…

He just sat there for hours, shaking.

In the freezing cold.

Next to the mound of dirt.

“Techno, mate. You got to come in.” Phil muttered as he came out as night was starting to fall.

“I don’t want to leave them,” Techno mumbled.

The voices were quiet whispers as they talked about all the things they loved about (Y/N) and Techno just sat listening to them, ignoring as Phil protested.

“They wouldn’t want you to die with them mate.” Phil finally broke through the voices.

Techno huffed, tears falling behind his mask. “And they didn’t want to die either.”

Phil sighed before just sitting next to his old friend.

“What are you doing?” Techno looked at him.

“You got to pass out eventually. Doubt all the adrenaline from the fight is helping.”

It really wasn’t. Techno felt bone tired and his body wanted nothing more than for him to sleep but he wanted nothing more to sit here with…(Y/N). He was covered in the blood of his lover and those he harmed today. Maybe it was all karma everything he had done…

It took another hour but finally, Techno’s body took control and he was out. Phil let out a long sigh before dragging the man into his own home. It was going to be a hard time for a while…

…

Phil thought Techno would be the same as the first night, that the other man would become unresponsive. His assumptions had been false though. In fact, it was worse.

Techno didn’t eat or sleep properly, which Phil had expected, but what he didn’t expect was for Techno to practically go insane as he poured over hundreds of lore books, trying to figure out how to bring (Y/N) back.

“Techno, mate, you need to take a break from this.”

“No, I will get them back. If I can just figure this out…I can do it.”

“You can’t do it if you die too!”

Phil went around these circles for hours, Techno sometimes striking low saying if he can figure it out, he could bring Wilbur back as well. Techno went full force into his work, the voices only encouraging his behavior as they threw out ideas to research. He had never listened to his voices more than now.

Techno had been so invested in his work, he didn’t notice when Phil gave Ranboo to build on the land, mostly because Phil gave him one rule, leave Techno be. Phil knew Techno the best and was trying his damn best to knock Techno back.

The blood god was pouring over notes for a hopeful experiment when Phil came in, food in hand as always.

“It’s late Techno, eat and go to bed,” Phil told him.

“After I’m done,” Techno muttered.

“Techno.”

“After. I’m done. Phil.” Techno gave him a dark glare before going back to his notes.

Phil sighed, putting the food down on the table. “Tommy locked Dream in prison.”

Techno frowned. That made him glance at Phil.

“Why?”

“Something about his discs as usual.” Phil crossed his arms, shrugging. “We got a notice on the radios that Dream lost two lives to Tommy.”

“Huh,” Techno mumbled, looking at his work again. “Kid should have finished him…”

Techno scribbled out a sentence. That wouldn’t make sense.

“Probably, I don’t know why he didn’t. Ranboo might know though.” Phil smirked to himself, his tactic working a bit well in his favor.

Techno’s interest was at least separating a bit from his research.

“Who?” Techno pulled over one of his sheets.

“The kid living outside the house.”

“Heh?” Techno looked up fully at that.

“He’s been here for weeks Techno; you’ve just been so caught up you haven’t noticed.” Phil pointed out now. “You need a break mate. You’re going…you’re going to kill yourself doing this.”

Techno looked at the papers in his hand.

“Techno, you need to fight another day. Come on.” (Y/N) tried to coax him away from preparing potions. “I’m tired.”

He clenched the papers as the voices were scattered, none of them focused on one thing right now.

“…Fine. I’ll at least talk to the kid.” Techno grumbled, getting up.

“Take the food.” Phil grinned.

Techno rolled his eyes, taking the bread but nothing else. He ate it as he left the house, his eyes not daring to travel to the beautiful flowers around the mound of dirt. Indeed, on his land, was a little house in the side of the hill. Huffing, he went over as the voices were skeptical, remembering one boy named Ranboo from L’Manberg and visiting Tommy.

“I can’t believe the little brat!” (Y/N) screamed as they paced around the house. “We gave him shelter! I should him love! AND HE BETRAYS US!”

Techno closed his eyes, his body shaking before trying to distract himself by knocking on the door.

“Phil?” A voice called from the other side before they opened the door.

The tall boy shrank seeing Technoblade at his door.

“Uhhhhh…hi,” Ranboo muttered, looking anywhere but the pig masked man.

Techno didn’t care really for pleasantries right now, so might as well get straight to the point.

“Hi, heard you might know why they locked Dream away rather than just kill him,” Techno grunted.

He hated the fact that Dream also had a favor over him. Would have been nicer for him if they had killed the smiley masked man.

“Oh yeah…I was there…hang on,” Ranboo muttered, taking a book off his belt and flipping through. “He uh…Dream said he had a book that could bring back the dead.”

Every. Single. Voice. Went silent.

As Techno stared at the tall hybrid, who shifted nervously at the stare.

“He did now?” Techno muttered.

“Y-Yeah. He said he could bring Wilbur back for Tommy.”

Techno didn’t care about the rest as his cape fluttered behind him as he took a determined march to the house to grab his things. If Dream wanted to cash in that favor, he owed him one more thing…

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #technoblade x reader #dreamsmp x reader

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charnelhouse · 3 years ago

Note

Hey! I just read death, I don't know why it took me so long but I think it’s because I was just scared of the feelings that would come with it... or because I'm stupid

Your externalization of Will's pov was magnificent. With every story you post I get more and more fascinated with your brilliant mind and writing skills. Thank you so much for sharing it with us!

It made me wonder what it would have been like if it had been the opposite. If one of the boys had died... I don't know if anyone has asked you this before, sorry if it's repetitive. But how would the reader react to the loss of one of them? Would she walk away from them like they did or perhaps become dependent on them? Or nothing like that, idk

A/N: Character Death.

It is as if it happens in slow motion. Stars-burst behind your eyes. The taste of ash and cordite in your mouth as you collapse. There’s a scream caught in your throat - swelling painful and burdensome and you think no no no no -

This can’t be real. This can’t be true.

“Frankie,” you whisper as you crawl towards him. There’s the pound of lukewarm rain across your shoulders - soaking your hair and making your fingers squish through the mud. You cannot breathe - you cannot find a center to focus on. You’re dizzy and there’s the rush of salt from your tears streaking - thinning to a river that wells in the cup of your lower lip.

When did you start crying?

“Frankie,” you call to him as you brush up against his side. There’s a bullet hole and there’s a second. A third. You tug at your pack - searching for bandages or cloth and your fingers won’t even respond. You’re shaking - trembling and you can’t get your head on straight.

“Baby,” Frankie rasps as he reaches for you. He places his hand on your thigh - the sun-browned skin gradually fading to grey.

“One-one second,” you tell him - your voice thin and weak. “Let me - let me find some bandages and I - I can fix this. I can fix this.”

He says your name - it rolls out from his lips - soft and delirious.

“Look at me,” he pleads - his fingers slightly tightening around your knuckles. You choke on a sob before you glance up at him. You immediately regret it. There’s a thin stream of blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth.

“This is bad, honey,” His thumb strokes a tight circle across the top of your hand. He is soothing you - relaxing you - when he is the one who is - who is - jesus christ - you think you might be sick. “I-I’m not getting out of this -”

“Shut up,’ you growl. “Shut up! It’s okay. I’ll stem the bleeding and drag you out. Just - just fucking hold on for me.”

But Frankie is wheezing - his grip on you going paper-weak. There’s a sharp splatter of blood with each cough - it stains his shirt and you uselessly rub at it. You can’t even see clearly as your vision blurs - your head ringing and this can’t fucking be real -

“Hey,” he smiles. “Don’t cry. Just - just c’mere.”

You do - dropping your head to taste his mouth - to let him kiss you and there’s the flush of iron and copper. It makes you gag but you keep it down. You cling to his face as you hold him steady - as you breathe i love you - i love you - i love you

He jerks beneath you - going boneless and lank. You don’t open your eyes. You screw them tighter - keeping the vision of him alive and hot with a pumping heart.

#tf poly vibes #frankie morales #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #frankie x reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales imagine

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ninja-knox-ur-sox-off · 3 years ago

Note

Tell us more about the "If you want… me" WIP

(Thank you for sending this ask in I love you with my entire soul, Lace)

Pigsy adopts Mk.

That's it. That's the fic.

Just a thing about Pigsy slowly realizing just how much he cares about the kid (which he's been in denial about for a while now.) There's a moment in which Mk gets sick and is a little delirious and is practically crying and begging Pigsy not to leave him because abandonment issues go brrrrrrr, and it hits Pigsy that even after everything Mk still fears he might drop him somewhere and, well, abandon him, so he decides to do something that scares him to make sure the kid knows he's loved because action speak louder than words, right? And he's never been real good at talking anyways. Mk's worth it. When Mk calls him dad as he's falling asleep that pretty much solidifies his commitment.

So he starts researching and filing out adoption papers.

Tang gets a little concerned because Pigsy's practically running himself ragged between running the shop, dealing with bills, and filling out adoption papers, and confronts him about it which is a bit of a mess for a sec cause Pigsy hasn't actually told anybody what he's doing lol skdmfa;oghe It turns out fine though and Tang finds out and is just absolutely ecstatic for him. (Freenoodle in this AU but they're both kinda still in denial about it lol)

It's been in the works for... a long time now actually lol, pretty quick after I finished my first fic for the fandom Family is What You Make it. But I've never quite been able to get it moving the way I want it. Might have to re-start it sometime, but I do eventually want to write it because this is something I've wanted to write since I got into this fandom lol skldmf;aghoae

Anyway, without further ado, here's a (rather large) snippet! <3

3:43am.

He'd need to open the shop in a few hours. He didn’t really want to leave the kid alone though. He could probably get Tang to come watch him, but he most likely wasn’t awake yet, and he didn’t want to accidentally wake him up. He could have made the call downstairs, but didn’t really feel like moving somehow.

It had been a while and his fever didn’t show any signs of breaking. Pigsy was thinking that maybe he should take him to the hospital, or at least get him some sort of medicine. There wasn’t any in the noodle shop, and he made a mental note to stock up on another first aid kit with some essentials in there somewhere so the kid would have easy access to it in the future. He had one down in the kitchen in case of cuts and other injuries, but medicine was another story altogether.

Pigsy glanced at Mk, who was still asleep, and looking no closer to getting any better. He stood up, reaching for his jacket, which he’d taken off sometime in the night or early morning, pulling it on, his hand slipping into his pocket to check for his phone and keys out of habit, the metal clinking together as his fingers touched them.

He turned away, about to head for the door when a weak tug at his sleeve stopped him and he started slightly, head snapping to see Mk, still curled up clinging to his sleeve.

“Kid?” he said, questioningly, his brow furrowing.

“Don’t leave,” he whispered, his grip tightening a little, but still weak.

Pigsy blinked.

“I’m sorry,�� Mk mumbled, and to Pigsy’s alarm he saw tears gathering in his eyes. “Please don’t leave.” He hiccuped, curling up a little tighter. He was still shivering, which suddenly looked a lot more like trembling.

“Kid…” Pigsy said, his concern growing. He still didn’t look quite there, he wasn’t even sure he realized he was awake.

“Please, I’ll--I’ll be better,” Mk hiccuped, shaking even as he clung to his sleeve. “I promise, I’ll be better, please don’t leave. Please. I’m sorry. Please keep me.” He was crying in earnest now, and Pigsy just… stared at him, his fractured heart aching.

“No, kid…” he started, but couldn’t think of anything more to say, closing his eyes, his face screwing up in a grimace because… Mk didn’t talk about before they met, but it didn’t take a genius to figure it out, especially not with him trembling and crying and begging Pigsy to keep him, of all things, apologizing for no reason, promising to be better, like he needed to do something to be worthy of someone wanting him around.

He wanted to do something, say something, anything to reassure him, but… kind words, physical affection... they weren’t something he was good at. He wasn’t even sure he knew how to be anything other than gruff and loud. Mk deserved someone so much better than him, but…

Mk was still clinging to his sleeve, curled up in a tight ball and trembling, his face hidden, pressed into the covers like he was afraid it was wrong to cry, or that he might have gotten in trouble for it, tensed as if expecting a blow (one of words or one of the physical kind Pigsy wasn't sure he was ready to know), and yet through all of that, still holding onto Pigsy.

Mk deserved so much better than him, but he was what the kid had right now. The least he could do was try his best, even if it was rough, blunt, and unpolished.

He crouched down at the side of the bed, careful not to make Mk think he was pulling away--even in his deliriously feverish state, he didn’t want the kid thinking he was going to leave him, that would likely only make him more distressed--and haltingly placed a hand on the top of his head.

Mk stiffened at the contact, and Pigsy did too, suddenly afraid he’d done something horribly wrong by touching him, but then Mk was relaxing and leaning into the touch and his crying was more of just, shuddering breaths and shivers.

He still didn’t release Pigsy’s sleeve, and Pigsy didn’t try to make him.

He stayed like that, crouched at the edge of the bed, his hand resting on Mk’s head, just… letting him know he was there.

Somehow, miraculously, his half-aborted, unsure attempt at comfort seemed to be enough for him, and Mk fell back asleep after a few minutes, still mumbling things now and again.

“Yeah,” he said quietly after Mk had drifted off. “I’m not going anywhere, kid.”

Wip Ask Game ASK ME ABOUT MY WIPS (wip list post)

#knox rambles #asks #Monkie Kid #Pigsy #WIPS #Wip bit #wip game #ask game #strange-lace #my writing's changed quite a bit lol lksmdaf;ohgowe #sickfic #implied abuse #abuse mention tw #no more than a passing thought but tagging just to be safe <3 #long post

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years ago

Text

In Your Arms ~J.M.

A/n: This wasn’t a request that inspired me to write a lot, so I didn’t, but I hope y’all enjoy this sweet little short! It’s been in my drafts way too long and I want to get more of these done so I can get to recent requests :)

Request: “...jack Morton x male reader where the reader is human of the pack and he always sleeps on the couch until the pack comes home. Jack thinks it’s adorable and carries him to his room and maybe they have a sleep talking conversation like reader:“no I have to wait for jack.” Jack:”why” reader:”because I like him”...”

Word Count: 1800+

MASTERLIST

Listen, being a werewolf in a human world is hard enough especially when it comes with a whole new world of secret societies and magic and literal demons and magic and endless rules that you have to learn and oh did I mention ACTUAL MAGIC?

It is exponentially harder when you make things worse by shoving a human into that world.

Y/n didn't have a werewolf ability to defend himself, or heal him when he got hurt. He didn't have magic... which you know thinking about it now, might be a good thing. He'd rather be useless than be part of the Order.

That was the problem though, wasn't it? He had chosen to be useless. That's what he was now.

I mean sure, he'd read the books Jack had given him enough times to memorize them, and he was getting used to playing doctor. He was also getting really good at helping in small ways. Helping Hamish grade papers, or doing one night of homework for Lilith, or passing some messages around when Randall forgot because he was busy with supernatural stuff. He was great to talk or rant to, and all of the Knights had been utilizing the very nice ability to go off to someone who actually listens. Sure, he had fallen into a habit of taking notes for the Knights in the classes he had with each of them, if they missed. But... that was just school stuff. Sure it took off a lot of the pressure in the long run (a lot more than he probably even realized), but if they died what the fuck did school mater?

When Jack almost died after the whole meltdown with Silverback a while ago, it had really pushed Y/n into gear. He was a lot faster at responding to things; a lot more eager to help; and above all, the single most annoying person ever when it came to asking about going along to showdowns to play backup.

The others simply refused again and again, and, again and again, he would end up sitting in an empty room as he pretended to focus on whatever task he had given himself to kill time before the worry got to him and he just curled up on the couch ad stared at the ceiling. Worry ate him alive for several hours, and then he'd fall asleep. Most of the time because things always went far later than intended, but also sometimes because between being a student, having a job, scrambling to cover for your friends too, and spending several hours emotionally exhausting yourself with unimaginably high stress levels, one simply passes out.

As Y/n's falling asleep became more and more of a habit, things started to get complicated. Because the thing was, he always fell asleep waiting, so he would be in the Den's living room, uncomfortably scrunched on the couch. They'd left him there a few times and he always woke up sore and aching. They'd tried to wake him up a few times and, half delirious, he had overly emotional reactions. After he had broken down into tears at how happy he was to see all of them alive and then been so embarrassed he hadn't talked for three hours the next day in pure shame, they had decided against the waking him up method. Which only left one option: one of them carried him to bed.

Lilith had tried, but the size difference between her and Y/n was big enough that it was jst awkward for her. She was small (even though she'd never admit it). She's end up waking him up, or dropping him, and that was the last thing they wanted.

Hamish had also tried, but he was really awkward and didn't know how to let Y/n get comfortable in his arms while walking around so that he wouldn't wake up, so Y/n often would. Then it would be super awkward as they just stared at each other. Their relationship was too brotherly and rigid to make room for touching it seemed.

Of course Randall had given it a try, and he was actually fairly good at it, but as much as he was big enough to actually carry Y/n, and at ease enough to let Y/n stay asleep, he wasn't good at maneuvering, which often left him pinned under Y/n when he actually put the sleeping boy to bed. Which lead to a lot of them cuddling. Which, while that was chill and platonic and fun and stuff, made Jack super jealous.

Oh yeah, Jack had a HUGE crush on Y/n, so it only felt right that eventually everyone left it up to Jack to take Y/n to bed. He could pick Y/n up, carry him to bed, and put him in an actual bed without any problem. Y/n didn't know this was happening. He had gotten used to everyone taking turns carrying him to bed, and they hadn't said anything so he assumed they'd just gotten better at it.

That's probably why on one particular night, he didn't simply assume that he was talking to Jack when he was picked up and began to be carried to bed.

That night was different, because Jack and Y/n had plans to study. Jack had an important test the next day and he and Y/n had the class in common, so Y/n had volunteered to stay up a little later to go through what Jack had missed. It had gotten derailed when Jack had been called away for Knight business, but Y/n had only written it off and told Jack that he'd still be there when it was over and they could continue if Jack was up for it. Unfortunately, it was one of the really time consuming ones, and Jack didn't get back until well into the night.

Dutifully, Y/n was asleep on the couch. His face was contorted oddly. Even asleep, the couch was uncomfortable enough to leave him with a permanent frown, even if it was soft since he was asleep. Jack wasn't surprised though - the couch was so small it barely fit two people on a good day, so sleeping on it was not a fun time.

Considering all of that, Jack thought it incredibly adorable that Y/n found a way to fall asleep on it anyway. They had told him a hundred times to just go to sleep in his bed, but he had refused time and time again. He had insisted that he needed to be as accessible as possible if nything went wrong. If they needed him, he had to be close. He insisted that it was best to be on the couch, and had sworn that he was trying to get into the habit of not falling asleep. But he always did, and he always ended up in the exact same situation. Not that Jack minded. It gave him a prime moment to hold his crush.

He scooped Y/n up now, smiling as the sleepy boy's head fell on Jack's chest. He sucked in a small breath but then settled. Jack chuckled to himself as Y/n pressed his nose into Jack's shirt, burying his face to get closer to the closest source of warmth since he didn't have a blanket. Jack began to carrying him to the stairs to head upstairs, but was stopped when Y/n's foot caught just a second on the doorframe. See, earlier Jack had hurt his arm. Due to werewolf healing it was almost fine, but it was still quite sore, and the tug on his shoulder when Y/n's ankle caught on the wall, forcing his leg into Jack's shoulder... Well it wasn't a big enough pain to make him drop Y/n or shout or anything, but it was enough to startle Y/n just a little bit awake.

"Wh- what?" Y/n mumbled, blinking heavy eyelids as he tried to look around. Jack winced, feeling guilt rise. "What happened? What did I miss?" His words were slurred, and it was obvious that he was barely conscious.

"Nothing," Jack reassured, hoping Y/n would just go back to sleep. If he knew Jack was there he would insist on staying up and helping. It would be nice and much appreciated - since Jack really did need help - but more than Jack needed help, Y/n needed sleep. He had been crashing on the couch for a reason; he was exhausted.

So Jack immediately rushed to soothe, "Nothing happened, just hit your foot on the wall by accident. Go back to sleep."

Y/n huffed, a whine in his voice when he argued, "No put me back." Jack tried to swallow a smile. It was adorable seeing a sleepy, whiny Y/n and that on top of his sleepy voice that was low and grumbly and kept cracking and having the boy in his arms, Jack was having a hard time not feeling a bit giddy.

He tried to keep his head on a little longer though. He needed to get Y/n to bed. "And why do you NEED to go to bed?" He teased lightly.

"I have to wait for Jack," Y/n mumbled, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. "We have plans."

Jack's smile turned warm. He thought about telling he who he was, but if he did then he'd NEVER get Y/n to sleep, so he decided to lean into the misconception that he was no in fact himself. "Jack will understand. It's late, you need to sleep."

"No," Y/n insisted with a firmer voice. He tried to struggle, but it was genuinely so pathetic that only a few seconds later he was still.

It made Jack wonder what Y/n was so desperate for though. "Why not?"

"He has a test tomorrow," Y/n explained with a soft irritation. "He needs help."

"You don't have to help him," Jack reminded softly, feeling suddenly guilty for some reason. Had he made Y/n feel obligated to help him?

"No I don't," Y/m agreed. "But I want to."

"Want to what?" Jack joked. "Stay away with a loser like him and lose sleep you need?" He had reached the top of the stairs now, and was headed to Y/n's door.

Y/n just rolled his eyes. "He's not a loser, but he does need help, and I can sacrifice a little sleep to help him with something he really needs. Making small sacrifices liek that is just what you do when you love someone."

Jack froze. WHAT?

When it was quiet for a long stretch of time, Y/n finally succumbed to the tiredness and his soft snores vibrated against Jack's chest. He cleared his throat and shook his head, opening the door and putting Y/n to bed. When he left the room, closing the door behind him, he came out with the biggest fucking grin he had ever worn.

Y/n like him back.

They had a lot to talk about tomorrow, and none of it had anything to do with a stupid test Jack no longer remembered. Because he loved Y/n too, and that's all he could think about right now.

Sorry Miss Styne.

#jack morton #the order #knights of saint christopher imagine #knights of saint christopher x reader #the knights of saint christopher #knights of saint christopher x male reader #the order x male reader #the order imagine #the order x reader #jack morton x male reader #jack morton x reader #jack morton imagine #male reader #the order of the hermedic blue rose

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tommybaholland · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! I was wondering if you could write a angst oneshot about the whole Izuku leaving UA incident and how his s/o would take it seeing that letter right after the war ark, and maybe their reaction if he came back?

If you've done this already please just ignore this! (ˊ˘ˋ*)

where are you, deku?

featuring: midoriya

recent manga chapter spoilers in this one! i have to admit that i haven’t been the biggest fan of the current arc thus far but this is one reason why i write. so i included some stuff that i feel were missed opportunities. also, if you read the manga, i’d love to hear any predictions you might have. enjoy! x

sitting in a hospital was never fun. it’s already bad if you’re there to be treated but sitting there, waiting for someone to wake up, not knowing that they will? you’d rather be admitted.

you didn’t know how he would recover from this. there’s no way his body could handle everything that he pushed through to stop the evil from winning. was there even a winner in this war? you’re not even sure how or why it started. there were so many things happening, so many twists and turns and surprises that everyone who survived physically wouldn’t have much luck mentally.

no matter how you spin it, there was no silver lining. and you were not the only one plagued by the lasting effect.

todoroki’s supposedly dead brother is alive and a mass murder, mirio has his powers again but doesn’t know that tamaki might be dead, midnight’s death was confirmed days ago and no one could just forget about it..

and it had been three days, but deku had not awoken from his unconscious state.

you were adamant about being the first one he saw when he woke up. he’d say that you’re stubborn but that was one thing you had in common. it was odd for him to stay unconscious for this long when he had always been the epitome of persistence.

the sound of all might entering the room jerked you awake from what was probably the tenth time you had dozed off.

“y/n,” he addressed. “you have done a great job keeping midoriya company but i think it’s time for you to get some rest. todoroki and bakugo have awoken, why don’t you go check on them with your other classmates?”

you didn’t even look over to him, not wanting to see the pitiful expression on his face.

“why isn’t he waking up, all might? he doesn’t even look like he’s in pain,” you observed, looking down at your unconscious partner.

“that must be a good thing, though, right?” the former hero replied.

“yes but,” you paused, unsure of how to say it. “it’s odd. he’s not in a coma-induced state, he just looks like he’s taking a nap.”

all might knew that midoriya and bakugo had kept the secret of ofa between them. now might be a good time to tell everyone, or at least everyone who should know, what was going to happen to him. midoriya was not unconscious nor asleep but was in a similar state, one that allowed him to talk to the previous holders of one for all.

until he finishes his conversation with them, an explanation would have to wait.

“you have observed well, y/n. i can assure you that he is not in any pain and will wake up eventually. he’ll want to tell you everything when he does. until then, please go tell the other students what you know for now.”

“what if he wakes up?” you questioned, continuing to face deku with your hands over one of his casted arms.

“i’ll have someone send for you but i’m sure you’ll be around when he finally wakes,” all might reassured.

you nodded, too tired to protest at this point. you stood from your seat before leaning down to press a parting kiss to his freckled cheek. his skin was warm which prompted a tear you didn’t know was there to fall down your cheek. he was alive but you wanted him to be okay.

you wiped the tear from your face and sniffled before turning around to finally face all might. he patted your shoulder as you walked by, quickly leaving the room. you decided that you would do as you were told and to go check on your other classmates. however, you didn’t get very far when you ran into bakugo who was storming down the hallway while resisting the restraint of sato and mineta.

“Y/N! WHERE IS HE?”

It almost made you smile to see that bakugo was still his belligerent self, despite being seriously injured. however, that doesn’t mean he should be walking around so soon. you stood in front of the door to deku’s room, prohibiting him from entering. once he finally reached you, he tried to push past you with his hands on your shoulders.

“you better move out of the way or start talking before i kill both you AND HIM,” he threatened when you wouldn’t move.

“he’s still unconscious,” you replied solemnly. “but all might’s certain that he will wake up.”

bakugo’s demeanor changed as he observed the melancholy expression on your face. he wasn’t an idiot but you were. it was the least he could do.

“well, i agree with him. of course he’s going to wake up, you idiot.”

you looked up at him, waiting for elaboration from his sudden confidence.

“tch. i thought you loved him or whatever. somehow your annoying ass decided to put up with his dumbass so you of all people would know that he wouldn’t just quit. and if he does, i’ll make sure he’s really dead.”

once almost everyone was discharged from the hospital, you were instructed to return to UA. you were told that you would receive updates and further instructions the next morning. however, sleep was far from what you would receive. despite the exhaustion, you were restless beyond belief which made you delirious and you couldn’t tell if the shuffling outside your room was real or not.

you woke up early, just when the sun was beginning to rise. you decided to get up as there was no point in trying to fall back asleep. you didn’t get even a step outside your room after stepping on a folded piece of paper that had been shoved under the door, waiting for you.

it was a letter from him.

it turns out that seemingly everyone got a letter from him. all of them varied in contents but they all conveyed the same message:

he had left the hero course.

they also explained his power and how it passed down from all might which is the reason why the league of villains and all for one were after him. yours, however, included a little extra message written at the end.

i love you, y/n. please don’t come looking for me.

he had probably blamed himself for all the strife he had caused with the war but you thought it was dumb for him to leave. how did he think he was going to do this on his own? there was obviously more to this story than he provided but given that he told everyone in the class, he had to keep it simple.

it was all making sense to you, shedding some light as to why all might was so sure of deku’s recovery. however, you didn’t get to see him when he woke up like you were told. he played it safe in writing these letters because he knew that you and others in the class would only try to stop him if he left. everyone was asking you about what you knew and you couldn’t tell them squat. you tried calling and texting him but he wouldn’t answer.

it was an odd feeling. you didn’t know whether you should be mad or not. if you couldn’t see your boyfriend yourself, you had to talk to all might. however, mr. aizawa was the only thing standing, or rather now sitting, in your way.

“by now, you all know that your classmate, midoriya, has left the hero course. this does not mean that the rest of you should follow in his footsteps.”

even though he didn’t tower over everyone anymore from his wheelchair, he was still equally as intimidating.

“now, UA has agreed to use its campus as an evacuation shelter. your families have already begun the moving process. classes will resume as normal but no one will be allowed to leave the campus under any circumstances. we’ve put a pause on all work study-related activities outside of the school until we know that there are no more possible threats, at least, for now. any questions can be directed to me.”

“will all might be returning?” you asked.

“all might will be taking leave from teaching for now,” answered mr. aizawa. “as i said, you can direct your questions to me.”

“right, sir, but i have questions for him about dek-- i mean, midoriya.”

“well, you’ll have to wait until he finds an opportunity to return then.”

“when will that be?”

“whenever he finds an opportunity, y/n. any other questions?”

it seemed like you were at a loss until you remembered something from when you were in the hospital with deku. bakugo’s behavior when you told him what all might said changed rather abruptly and you don’t think it’s because all might is his favorite pro hero. although they grew up together, deku and bakugo were anything but close. however, bakugo’s affirmation that he would recover felt odd and like he knew something that made him sure of it.

this led you to pursue him as your next lead.

you found him later in the kitchen making something for himself, as he usually cooked for himself than eating the food sent over by the school.

“what did you think about his letter?”

“what letter? i didn’t get anything from that damn nerd.”

that was surprising but that logic further pushed the idea that he knew something and therefore didn’t need a letter to explain it to him.

“so you don’t know anything about this?” you asked as you pulled out the folded-up paper that was left at your door that morning.

bakugo snatched the paper out of your hand and scanned over its contents quickly. his brows raised by the time he reached the end before he grimaced again.

“that idiot,” he muttered under his breath.

“so you didn’t know about it?”

“this is almost the same as what everyone else got,” he observed, ignoring your question.

“okay. but did you know about it?” you asked again.

“of course i did, you dumbass! so are you gonna ask me a billion questions now that his cowardly ass isn’t here to explain it to you like he should’ve?”

“so there is more to it.”

“he gave you the gist of it. that’s really all you need to know.”

“but what do shigaraki and all for one have to do with this?”

“can’t you read? the letter literally explained that.”

“like you said, it was really only the gist of it.”

“well, you were right in wanting to talk to all might but i guess you’ll have to wait.”

“no. if you know something, i need to hear about it. also, why do you get to know about all this?”

“because that moron originally told me about it back when we started school here. i didn’t take it seriously at the time until he started getting stronger. right after we moved to the dorms, he and all might told me everything,” he explained.

“i need you to tell me what happened then because he and all might aren’t here right now.”

“look, it’s really not my job to tell you! this really belongs between the two of them. dumb deku just promised that he would be strong enough to try to beat me.”

“at least tell me why he felt he had to leave when we could’ve helped him! i know he likes to act like a selfless idiot but i don’t know if he can do this by himself.”

bakugo sighed. “this is his fight and his fight alone. like icyhot said back at the sports festival, he has all might in his corner. that’s all the help he’s gonna need.”

you nodded in agreement.

“plus, that dumb power of his involves more than what you’ve seen of it,” he added cryptically.

“what does that mean?”

“did you even read the letter? it said that the power was passed down from all might to him, moron.”

“again, that doesn’t really mean much to me,” you pressed.

“tch. yeah. you probably only paid attention to that gross end part. that stupid nerd,” he muttered.

“what was that?”

“look, i’m done talking with you. either talk to all might or use your damn head.”

that wasn’t a complete waste of time but it certainly was a lost cause. despite his arrogance, everything bakugo said was true. he’s not someone who goes around lying about things so you felt that you could trust him when he said that deku would be in good hands with all might.

you left the kitchen somewhat satisfied but it still bothered you that you didn’t know everything completely. you wondered if there was anyone else who knew about it but the chances were slim, given that bakugo also stated that it was between deku and all might.

while heading back up to your room, you ran into todoroki. you hadn’t talked to him much since the war. out of anyone, he was probably going through it more than anyone.

“hey, todoroki. how are you holding up?” you asked, grinning softly.

his voice was still recovering but it was a lot better than a few days ago. “hello, y/n. my family’s okay for the most part and my father is finally doing what he should.”

you didn’t want to pry but you knew what he meant.

“did you get a letter?”

“from midoriya? yes. i’m not especially surprised since he and all might have been close since school began. however, i do find it odd that he suddenly has another power. did you notice it?”

you nodded. “it first happened during the training session with class B, right?”

“yes. were you ever curious about it?”

“he was probably more freaked out about it than anyone else so i didn’t focus too much on it,” you explained.

“i asked him about it and i agree, he did seem apprehensive about it.”

there was a beat of silence then which had you pondering over what bakugo had said.

“apparently there’s more to his power than we think and it has something to do with the passing from one user to another,” you reported.

“i’ve been thinking about that, as well,” todoroki replied. “it’s possible that midoriya’s power is evolving to beyond what all might could do with it. it would make sense, given quirk singularity.”

his theory seemed reliable since he would know about something like singularity.

“thank you for sharing that with me, todoroki. it think it’s quite possible that you’re right. i’m going to try to talk to all might if you want to confirm it,” you offered.

“thank you, y/n, but i believe the answer will be more clear later on. there’s something i have to focus on for myself right now. i hope you find out more soon.”

you thanked him, wished him well, and made the rest of the way to your room. now, you really couldn’t imagine what todoroki was going through. if anything, he had just as much weight on his shoulders as deku right now.

then again, you still needed answers as to exactly what he was doing.

later that night, bakugo sat on his bed looking down at a piece of paper. it had four simple words on it. words that both excited and annoyed him immensely.

i’m catching up, kacchan.

months passed and you hadn’t heard from deku. well, you had but not in the way you wanted. you finally got in touch with all might, who showed up to UA in person. apparently, mr. aizawa had passed down the message that you were wanting to talk but you don’t know how long ago that had been. you appreciated his effort but at this point, it was your boyfriend who you needed to see now. you didn’t want to displace your anger onto him but he could see that distress that you are in.

“i’m sorry that he couldn’t come himself,” all might apologized.

you sighed. “it’s alright. it seems like he has better things to do now.”

“he just needs to work on yielding one for all,” all might elaborated.

“is that what it’s called? one for all?”

“he didn’t tell you about it? i thought he wrote everyone in the class a letter?”

“he did but he didn’t go into too much detail which is why i wanted to talk to you,” you explained, your tone rather aloof.

“right. of course,” all might replied before clearing his throat to fill in the missing pieces.

it turns out that todoroki’s theory was on the track in that one for all had reached the singularity point and the quirks from its predecessors were beginning to manifest.

“the fact that he was completely quirkless before one for all makes the singularity point easier for him to transition to and use the other six quirks.”

that was news to you. “he was quirkless?”

“yes.”

it was all making sense now. everything that seemed off about him and his power was because he never had one in the first place. you also could now understand why bakugo was the most hostile with him when it came to training and deku’s improvement with his power. and this was why bakugo was dead set on deku coming out of this alive.

however, you couldn’t help but feel naive. you felt like you should’ve listened to your intuition more when things weren’t adding up and he was landing himself back in the hospital with broken arms time after time. but you ended up falling in love with him and it wasn’t because of his power. in the same vein, you weren’t about to hate him for it either, like bakugo or even todoroki at the beginning of the school year. he had worked hard to where he is now and the truth was that he had always been that way, quirk or not.

but how come he felt the need to hide it all, especially from you? bakugo had only recently been clued in about all of it so why not you as well?

“i made him not say anything to anyone, especially since i had started teaching at the school,” all might explained, continuing to be incredibly perceptive. “and bakugo was only roped in because he was catching on to it.”

“yeah. he told me that deku originally told him a while ago,” you recalled. “so what is he going to do about shigaraki and all for one?”

“we’re not entirely sure yet. right now he’s mostly acting as bait to try to lure out the league of villains while taking care of any stray villains from the prison breaks.”

“so what you’re saying is you don’t have a plan?” you questioned.

“we’re considering all of our options, y/n.”

“who?”

“deku, myself, endeavor, and hawks. best jeanist has also been helping with recon,” he elaborated.

of course, he’d have the top three heroes and all might on his side. not to mention all the vestiges talking to him in his head. what about the rest of the class though? surely he was going to need more than that. hero society is hanging by a thread that could snap at any moment if the villains strike again first.

“why didn’t you let me see him after he woke up?” you asked, changing the subject.

“we wanted him to stay at UA, as that’s where he’d be most protected. unfortunately, every decision has been his own,” he answered.

that was what you were afraid of.

since that conversation, the city had been partially recovered, villains were being captured, and there weren’t any threats as of yet from the league. UA fully reinstated work study programs and students were allowed out under heavy supervision.

todoroki kept coming back from his father’s agency with letters from deku to give to you. you read them, of course, but hadn’t replied to a single one. talking to all might was helpful, it really was, but you couldn’t help this nagging feeling inside you. his letters didn’t help much either. of course, you were happy to hear from him and it did give you that tingling feeling of love that you hadn’t felt in months.

the letters mostly detailed what he was doing and provided updates on his progress since you had talked to all might. however, if he was freely moving about the city, you didn’t understand why he couldn’t just come talk to you. all might had said that all the decisions made were his own and he was doing it in the best interest of you, the school, and his family. the thought of deku saying that he didn’t want to see anyone else get hurt made you shake your head. he’s very persistent and strong-willed but he too often doesn’t accept the help nor listen to the warnings of others, yourself included.

you missed him but you were also resentful towards him and you hated feeling that way. you wanted to be supportive rather than selfish but it was hard when he could be too self-sacrificing. it’s not that you didn’t have faith in him. you just wanted to prepare for the worst.

“hey, idiot.”

“what is it, bakugo?”

bakugo and todoroki approached you one day after they came back from their work study.

“we’re trying to tell you something important so don’t cop an attitude right now,” he glared.

you gave him an unamused look, unfazed by the irony. “so did you need something?”

todoroki spoke up next. “yes. my father would like to recruit you for work study. you don’t currently have one, right?”

“no. i don’t,” you replied honestly. “why does endeavor want me all of the sudden?”

“because midoriya—“

“shut up, you half and half moron!” bakugo interrupted. “look, we need help and thought you would want to be included.”

“okay. but why me?”

“you’re such a dumbass. just come with us!”

and now you were here at the endeavor agency in your hero costume with an uneasy feeling. maybe it was because you were standing right in front of the number one himself.

“hello, y/n.”

it was true that he didn’t have any other expression other than a scowl. lately, that scowl seemed worn down and honestly, you couldn’t blame him.

“bakugo and shoto have told me about you. of course, i first heard about you from deku.”

your ears perked up at his hero name. you hadn’t heard it in months.

“since he has left the hero course, we needed another student apprentice at the agency. the reason why we didn’t contact you sooner was that we were overconfident in thinking that we didn’t need another and for that, i personally apologize.”

endeavor bowing to you was a sight you thought you’d see only in your dreams.

“so what is this really about then?”

“the league of villains is on the move and he needs some help.”

you didn’t have time to even think of a response before the familiar mess of green hair came into view. that was really the only familiar thing about him against his dirty and tattered hero costume. not to mention all the upgrades that you had never seen before.

“hey, y/n,” he greeted with a soft grin.

you felt like your heart had stopped for a solid three seconds.

“deku…” you breathed out finally. you let the tears well up in your eyes. you didn’t want him to see you cry. you felt a rush of adrenaline pull you towards him and tackle him to the ground.

from the view, it looked like you were happy to see him. you were anything but thrilled.

“why— how— w- what are you doing here?” you questioned, leaning over him on the ground. you face felt hot with rage but you couldn’t stop it. the more you tried to suppress your emotions, the more intense they felt.

“well, i wanted to see you!” he answered, trying to lighten the mood.

“you wanted to SEE ME!? what about the previous eight months, huh? or when you woke up? you didn’t want to see me then either?”

“y/n, please i didn’t intend to abandon anyone. i only wanted to protect—“

“everyone, right?” you interrupted him. “what about the rest of us? we want to be heroes too! we’ve fought countless battles and went through a whole war with you! when are you going to get it through your dumb head that we want to help you?”

“heh. they sound like me now,” bakugo quietly commented as he and todoroki watched this whole scene.

“i wouldn’t get excited about that,” replied todoroki.

“i’m sorry if i’m being selfish but this isn’t fair, deku,” you cried, your tears dripping onto his face.

if he thought about it, deku had improved immensely in the last several months, most likely at a quicker rate than he had at UA. however, that was because there wasn’t as much restraint on the usage of his powers. he got to fight high-level villains without a lot of supervision. he was essentially a vigilante and the top three of the hero society were allowing him to do it.

“i’m sorry for leaving, y/n,” he began, sitting up as you leaned up off of him to wipe your tears.

“i wasn’t thinking about everyone’s feelings but i felt that it wasn’t anyone’s decision. you guys would have stopped me no matter what.”

you didn’t make eye contact with him until his next sentence.

“but that doesn’t mean i should be treated as a special case. you’re right, i shouldn’t waste all the energy and effort everyone has put into to stop something that i’m mostly responsible for. even though i’ve been figuring things out on my own lately, i have no idea how i’m going to stop all for one or save shigaraki.”

you suddenly felt stupid as he looked down solemnly. you were stupid for overreacting. at the end of the day, this was his fight. no one else could do this but him. however, hearing that he needed help was what you needed to hear.

your boyfriend needed help.

“hey,” you called softly, placing a hand over his cheek. he looked up as you with glossy green eyes.

“you don’t have to do this all by yourself. you have so many friends and heroes wanting to help you. i know you don’t want to lose anyone but i think everyone involved knows the risks.”

you looked back to bakugo and todoroki for reassurance. todoroki nodded in agreement while bakugo simply, “tch. whatever.”

“you’ve got me, too. you’re never gonna lose me, deku. and i won’t let you lose either. i love you too much even if you can be really dumb sometimes.”

“i love you too, babe,” he reciprocated, his face getting closer to yours. “i did really miss you.”

“i know, baby.”

you completed the reconciliation with a sweet kiss, one that made bakugo roll his eyes.

“can you idiots stop wasting my time already?!”

“i agree,” endeavor spoke up. “we should start telling them what we know.”

“right! sorry, sir!” your boyfriend squeaked before scrambling to get you both off the floor. you stifled a laugh. he’s probably seen some stuff over the last few months but his cute, spastic self didn’t change much.

“let’s get y/n acclimated to the agency first and then we’ll go over everything,” endeavor suggested.

“oh my gosh, y/n! i can’t wait to show you how huge this place is! c’mon,” deku exclaimed, grabbing your hand and pulling you around the office.

he didn’t want to let go once but if you wanted to because your hands were sweaty, he’d simply reach for it again. his thumb ran over the back of yours when you were just standing next to each other, giving it an occasional squeeze. even when it was his turn to talk, he didn’t release.

“okay so here’s what i’ve done recently and the information i’ve gathered from those encounters..”

you didn’t know what the end result would be and he was none the wiser. he knows how he wants it to end and now he has people he can count on for that.

heyy bnha night! let’s hear about more of your favs..

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya fluff #midoriya angst #midoriya oneshot #request #requested #tommybaholland

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spine-buster · 4 years ago

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 35

A/N: Alright folks...here she is: the last chapter. To say that I love all of you so much and appreciate with my entire life every like, reblog, comment, tag comments, canon question, ask, etc. would be an understatement. You guys TRULY make my stories what they are and encourage me to write and post every single week. From the bottom of my heart, thank you thank you thank you ❤️

Like with all my stories, there will be epilogues for Aberdeen and Willy so we see into their future. I’m not sure how many I have planned -- probably three right now, thinking of four, depending on how I split things up.

After the epilogues are posted, I will be starting my new Brock Boeser mini-series “Peaceful Easy Feeling”. Stay tuned for a post date -- check my Masterlist for future reference.

Without further ado...

August 31st, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was looking into William’s eyes.

They were getting Korean walnut cakes from Hodo Kwaja. They were out in the open. Alone on Bloor Street West, in Little Korea, where no-one would recognize him. He convinced her. She couldn’t hold back anymore. She’d tried so hard and she’d succeeded for months – fuck, the better part of a year at this point – and now, she just wanted to have a date out in the open with her boyfriend instead of having to drive to some park on the lakeshore in Etobicoke to secretly hook up in his car.

“These better be good,” William said as he looked away briefly at the shop owner making a new batch of cakes behind the glass wall. Even though they were both wearing masks, Aberdeen could tell he was smirking. “When you say bean paste…”

“I promise you,” she stressed. “They’re amazing.”

“You wanna bring them to Christie Pitts after?” William asked, reaching for her hand.

Aberdeen nodded. This was the first time he’d reached for her hand in a public place. She’d always remember Hodo Kwaja as the place now. They could never close or tear this bakery down. “We can eat them under a tree or something.”

“Romantic.”

“I try to be,” she said. “Especially with my boyfriend.”

“Especially when we’re out in public.”

She crinkled her face. So did William. He pulled her into his body and wrapped an arm around her. They were silent for a few moments before William decided to speak again. “You should try calling Beth,” he whispered, his voice low. “You said Alec wouldn’t get back to you, but Beth might. She’d let you know whether or not they chose to publish the article.”

A shiver ran up Aberdeen’s spine. “Maybe I’ll email her or something,” she said. “Alec’s silence speaks volumes though. I don’t think—”

“Fuck that guy,” William interrupted. “Call Beth. Call her. Maybe she rooted for you.”

The shopkeeper handed Aberdeen the brown bag full of walnut cakes, and she paid for them. She grabbed at William’s hand and their fingers intertwined before leaving the shop. “I just think I would have known by now,” Aberdeen mused. “I mean, the new issue will hit newsstands soon. Usually they’d tell the writers.”

“Call her,” William urged. “You’ll never know if you don’t call.”

They walked down the street hand in hand. It was dusk outside, the hot and humid air of the city finally giving way to a nice breeze that cooled everything down. Aberdeen’s dress swayed back and forth as they walked towards Christie Pitts, switching subjects to the next bakery they should try. William made Aberdeen laugh recounting the story of how much Cam loved the Swedish pastries he brought the family during his surprise Christmas visit. Aberdeen’s heart swelled when William brought her hand up to his lips and kissed where the ring was – the ring he got her, which she’d been wearing ever since.

As they passed by all the different storefronts – most closed, saved for a few convenience stores or 24 hour laundromats – they both noticed a loading truck parked by the curb with two men going in and out of it, hauling new magazines and the next day’s newspapers into the shop. William made them stop. He watched them for a few seconds.

“What are you doing?” Aberdeen asked him.

“Excuse me, sir?” he ignored her, instead calling out to one of the men hauling in the newspapers. The man looked at him. “Are those next month’s magazine issues?”

“Of course they are.”

“William—”

“Do you have the new issue of Toronto Life?”

“William—”

“We’ve got everything in the truck, bud,” the other man said, setting down a huge stack of Vogue magazines all bundled together. “Either you wait or you jump in there yourself to get it.

William looked between the truck and the men. He let go of Aberdeen’s hand abruptly. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets. “William what are you doing?!” she asked as she watched him climb into the back of the loading truck.

“What do you think?!” he called back out. “It’ll be a good off-season workout finding the stack!”

“William!” she repeated for what felt like the umpteenth time.

“Oh! They’re right here! They’re covered but…” he trailed off. Aberdeen held her breath. He emerged hauling a giant wrapped stack – you couldn’t see anything besides the white paper covering it and the plastic ties tying them all together. He jumped off the back of the truck. The two men were just watching him. “You got scissors?” he asked them.

One of them handed him an exacto knife. William cut off the plastic zipties.

“William, stop,” Aberdeen pleaded. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to know yet. She had to psych herself up for the inevitable disappointment of not seeing her name on the cover, not seeing her article anywhere in the magazine, and she wasn’t given ample time to do that. She knew William was being William – proud and spontaneous and excited on her behalf instead of riddled with anxiety and doubt and all the bad things one could be riddled by when their dream job was in their midst but definitely out of their grasp because of an asshole editor – but she needed time to process that she was going to be faced with a huge disappointment. She needed time to process that she would have to keep looking for a writing job.

William could hear the fear in her voice. He could sense her uncertainty and her anxiety about it all. He stood up from his crouching position. “Hey…” he said softly, taking a step towards her. He grabbed her hand again and held it in his. “Minskatt, don’t be nervous.”

“I need time to psyche myself up for not seeing my name on there,” she said. She felt her phone buzzing aggressively through her purse but she decided to ignore it. “It’s gonna hurt, Willy.”

He squeezed her hand tighter. “Are you listening?”

The question they’d always ask each other. “Yes.”

“Remember what you told me before and after the bubble? That no matter what happened, you’d love me no matter what?” he asked. Aberdeen nodded her head. “Whatever happens here…whether you got it or not…minskatt, I’ll love you no matter what.”

His words were so soothing. And as always, they were so simple, but so perfect. They immediately put her at ease despite all the anxiety she was feeling, that had rushed upon her within just minutes. She nodded her head slightly as she squeezed his hand back. “Can I open it?” he asked.

She nodded her head.

He crouched down again and ripped open the packaging. Aberdeen took a step forward and looked down to see the iconic red rectangle header. And then the headline.

The Bubble Diaries: Aberdeen Bloom explores the characters, stories, and all-too-real tribulations inside the NHL’s Eastern hub.

Aberdeen’s entire body jolted up, and she let out a short and quick scream as the bag of walnut cakes went flying.

Then she realized what this meant.

And she screamed at the top of her lungs.

William’s eyes lit up as he heard the shriek – the entire city heard the shriek. He watched as she started jumping up and down through more shrieks before he got up himself. Aberdeen jumped on him – just fully and completely jumped into and onto him – and he caught her expertly in his arms as she shrieked in his ear.

“They did it! THEY DID IT!” she screamed as he set her down. She bent down to pick up a copy of the magazine and shrieked again as she held it in front of her. Maybe this was a fever dream. Maybe she was delirious. Maybe the gratuitous walnut cake the bakery gave her to try before ordering was laced with some hallucinogenic and she was imagining things.

No. That was her name attached to the article. That was her name on the cover of Toronto Life magazine.

“You did it, minskatt,” William said as he reached up to her face to pull her mask down, planting a giant kiss on her lips. The energy was radiating off of her. She was a ball of sunshine, a star radiating energy bigger and better than anything in the universe. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.”

“I can’t believe it! I can’t – oh – oh my GOD Willy!” she was still shocked. “I—they—I’m published! I’M PUBLISHED!”

“Your name is on the cover of a damn magazine, minskatt!” he giggled.

“My name is on the cover of a damn magazine!” she repeated more emphatically, kissing him again. “I can’t – I – oh my God – oh my God my phone is…” she trailed off, feeling her phone buzzing violently from her purse again.

She pulled it out and saw Beth Zadakis’s name flash across the screen. She immediately picked up. “Beth!”

“Surprise,” she practically purred into the phone. “I’m assuming you saw it just posted on our website? Alec was overruled. He knew he would be. The way you wrote about the boys, Aberdeen…there’s no way we couldn’t publish it.”

“Thank you. Thank you,” she stressed, putting her hand over her heart. “From the bottom of my heart Beth, thank you.”

“You should celebrate, Aberdeen. We’ll discuss the logistics of your new position with Toronto Life later,” she said. “It’s not every day that a novice writer gets the lead cover story. Pop a bottle of champagne. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Aberdeen hung up. She looked into William’s eyes.

She did it.

***

September 4th, 2020

Aberdeen walked into the MLSE offices like she was going to work. Except she wasn’t.

Brendan had called her in for one last meeting. He didn’t say it would be their last, but both of them knew it would be their last. It was bittersweet, of course. Aberdeen had walked these halls for a year. She’d walked in on the team nearly naked on her first day. She’d tried to pick up a hockey bag and fell over. She’d taken countless calls from very important people she had no idea existed before this job. She’d gotten called out by her boss for being an idiot. She’d walked Niklas Lidstrom through the halls to impress her boss. She’d waited countless hours for jersey proofs. She’d made friends. She’d made enemies. She’d learned the game of hockey. She’d travelled countless miles up and down the steps and up and down the elevators to the ice, to the locker room, to the offices, and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.

She ran into her summertime hookup in the elevator on her first day. She’d fallen in love with him in these hallways.

It all happened here.

When she approached the doors of Brendan’s office, and looked at her desk – well, now her former desk, she felt her heart flutter. This was it. She stepped into the doorway and saw him looking out his window. She knocked.

He turned around, giving her the proudest smile she’d probably ever received from a boss. She took off her mask so he could see her smiling too. “Hi Brendan.”

“Aberdeen. Sit,” he nodded towards the chairs. This was where she cried and told him she’d been sexually harassed in the kitchen. This was where he fired Ethan. This was where he’d bared his soul to her after the Leafs lost to a Zamboni driver. She took a seat.

“I’m so incredibly proud of you,” he said after looking at her for a few moments. “What you’ve been able to accomplish in a year is outstanding, Aberdeen.”

“I would be remiss if I didn’t thank you,” she began. “You had the biggest role to play in this by setting up that meeting in the first place. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for you.”

Brendan shook his head. “I didn’t write that article, Aberdeen. You did,” he said sternly. To think that he had the faith in her to put the meeting together in the first place, knowing she could pull it off, spoke volumes. He was definitely her most powerful supporter. “I keep reading and re-reading it and I find new things to admire every time.”

She smiled humbly. “Thanks.”

Brendan paused for a moment. “You know, Aberdeen…most people would have sold us out,” he said. She nodded her head, understanding what he was getting at. He knew – he knew the demands Alec put on her. Beth must have told him, because she certainly didn’t say a word about it. “It…it speaks absolute volumes to your character that they demanded that scoop for you but you refused to give it and instead relied on your talent to get you the job anyway.”

She nodded. She could read between the lines. “Thank you.”

“You’ve got some fucking guts on you, kid.”

They both giggled. “I guess being around some gutsy hockey players did me some good this year,” she joked.

“I’ll say,” he said. “All the boys know. They love it.”

“I know. I got texts from pretty much all of them. Travis sent me a picture of his dogs reading it too.”

“That last night in the bubble, when I told you that you were the soul of this team, I meant it,” he said. “And I don’t think…I don’t…well, I don’t think it was a big secret that William had a thing for you since that first day in the elevator. And I know…well, I think we’re all aware the feeling is mutual.”

Aberdeen gulped. She felt like she already died and got rigor mortis in that tiny amount of time. So they were going to go there. Brendan was bringing it up with absolutely no shame. On her last day. Last meeting. She looked him in the eye. “Am I safe to assume that nothing happened between the two of you in the year you were here?” Brendan asked.

She could do it right now.

Be honest.

She was leaving, after all.

And she had the job already.

She looked Brendan right in the eyes.

“No sir,” she shook her head. “I…it was clear to me at the beginning too, and…and the feelings did grow on my end as well, I will admit that.”

“So the feeling is mutual, then.”

“Yes sir.”

“And I’m also correct to assume that once you leave these doors and employed by Toronto Life, you two will get together?”

She was already lying to the man she respected most in this world; there was no use in lying even more. “Y—Yes. I—I…” she hesitated. She took a deep breath. “William waited for me, Brendan. He waited for me this entire time. I don’t want to make him wait any longer. I don’t want to wait any longer, either.”

Aberdeen didn’t know what she was expecting, but she definitely wasn’t expecting Brendan to smile. “Understandable,” he said. “I could see it at the Christmas party – William’s crush on you. And I kept wondering to myself if he ever…well, you know, acted on it. Told you, at least.”

“Didn’t need to tell me. It was pretty apparent,” she smiled slightly. “He wears his heart on his sleeve. Well, at least for me.”

Brendan nodded his head. There was a moment of silence between them. “You’re welcome here whenever you want,” he said. “In this office, in the arena, in the back – whenever. You’re family now, Aberdeen. And you’ll always be family. I’ll make it a clause in the contracts all the future presidents sign that Aberdeen Bloom can come in and do whatever she wants in this building.”

She giggled slightly. “Who are you kidding? You’ll be the president of this hockey club ‘till the day you die. Tanenbaum won’t let you leave. There won’t be any others.”

“Are you going to write my biography when it’s time?”

“If you let me.”

Brendan stood up from his chair. He extended his hand across his desk. Aberdeen hadn’t touched another human being since March 13th besides her family and William. She extended hers to shake his hand. “Aberdeen Bloom, my Etobicoke girl, it’s been a pleasure,” Brendan was proud, so proud of her.

“Brendan Shanahan, it’s been an honour,” she replied.

He side-stepped around his desk, and Aberdeen knew what was coming. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to leave the offices without one. It was another thing that she’d only given to her family members and to William since March 13th – a hug. But in that moment, she wrapped her arms around Brendan, and he wrapped his arms around her, and they hugged each other tightly. Aberdeen could smell his cologne. She heard him sniffle. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t start crying as well. “Thank you, Brendan,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome.”

She sighed. When he let go of her, he kept his hands on her shoulders as he looked down at her. “William’s coming to pick you up?” he asked. She smiled and nodded her head. “Jason’s around the building somewhere. For negotiations. You should find him. He’ll want to see you before you leave.”

Aberdeen nodded her head. “I’ll find him.”

She left his office, closing the door behind her. She felt a heavy feeling in her heart, knowing it would be the last time she’d exit Brendan’s office, no longer his executive assistant. Now, she was a writer at Toronto Life magazine. And before she could process that thought, she had to find Jason.

As she wandered through the building, popping into rooms and asking whoever she saw if they knew were Jason was, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket and knew, like a sixth-sense, that it was William. She stopped walking so she could look at the message.

i like this one

He’d attached a quick video Aberdeen had taken the other night. The video couldn’t have been more than four of five seconds long. In the first second, the video showed hands being held, one hand dragging forward the other. In the second second, the camera panned upwards. In the third second, the video showed the back of a figure, with increasingly long blonde hair, broad shoulders, and a stupidly expensive designer t-shirt on with the CN Tower in the background at sunset. In the fourth second, the head turned, and the face smiled at whoever was behind the camera. It was all a bit blurry. It was all a bit fast.

It was William looking at her.

She promised him she’d post whatever he wanted to her Instagram feed once they could be official, and out in the open, not having to hide anything anymore. He wouldn’t dare post anything on his feed, so Aberdeen would. She understood why. Even now, even though they could be out in the open with their friends and family, with William’s teammates and Aberdeen’s extended friend circle, William wanted to keep their relationship out of the spotlight. Judging by what she’d gone through with the media and what she’d seen herself in the year she worked for the team, she understood completely.

She found the video in her own camera roll, editing the colour tones slightly before uploading it to her own Instagram feed with a simple caption: ❤️

She continued to look for Jason. And in looking for Jason, her phone kept going off. It was almost annoying, but she knew it was all the guys probably commenting something on the photo. After a particular string of constant notifications when she walked into the trainer’s room hoping to find Jason – which at this time last year would have been filled with shirtless, half-naked hockey players with their thighs and bulges out rolling on foam rollers, but was now empty – she couldn’t help but take her phone out again to see what the hell they were commenting.

@austonmatthews: FUCKING FINALLY

@travisdermott: awwwww s’cute

@tysonbarrie4: look at you lovebirds!

@rasmussandin: he likes lasagna!!!!! gotta make sure u learn how to make it

@1jackcampbell: you guys!!! What a bunch of beauties <3

@morganrielly: i second what @austonmatthews said

@buzzinb0831: YOU GUYS ARE THE CUTEST

@marner_93: finallyyyyyyyyyyy

@aleidacasillasandersen: Cute cute cute!

@kasperikapanen: cn tower…shocker

She couldn’t help but smile at them all. Especially Auston’s. That twerp.

Without warning, William’s name flashed across the screen for a phone call. She immediately picked up. “Hey.”

“Hi minskatt,” his voice was sing-songy. “Did you talk to Brendan?”

“Yeah,” she said, looking down at the floor.

“Was it bittersweet?”

“Mhm,” she nodded her head. “I know this is what I’ve dreamt of for the longest time, but I can’t picture myself not coming into this office every morning during the new season. I haven’t quite wrapped my head around it yet,” she admitted.

“I get it. It’s okay,” William said. “The team’s gonna miss you. Brendan’s gonna get a new assistant and he or she is gonna have some huge shoes to fill.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but smile. “He asked about us, you know.”

“He did?”

“He said it wasn’t a big secret that you had a thing for me since the first day in the elevator. He also said everyone is pretty much aware the feeling is mutual.”

“And?”

“And…he asked if anything had happened between the two of us.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Well I didn’t exactly tell Brendan fucking Shanahan that we randomly hooked up the night of my graduation. And I didn’t exactly tell him we’ve been secretly hooking up and in a relationship since January,” Aberdeen said. “But I told him the feeling was mutual, and that we’d both waited long enough, and the second I walked out of those doors I wasn’t going to make you wait anymore.”

“Okay…” she could hear William exhale. “Okay.”

“I lied to him, Will. I know. I lied to him about the last nine months. Hell, I’ve lied to everyone these past nine months about us being together. About our feelings, about your late-night visits to my hotel rooms and us hooking up. About loving you. About being with you. I’ve lied about everything. Everything.”

“We’ve lied to everyone about everything in the last nine months,” William corrected her sternly. “You’re not alone in this. You know that. We lied to everyone. We kept it a secret. But none of that matters, Aberdeen. What matters is that we get to be open about it now. That’s all that matters. That’s it.”

Aberdeen nodded her head. She knew he was right. She collected herself so she didn’t get emotional on the phone. God knows if she shed at least one tear and then found Jason, Jason would automatically be able to tell. “I just have to find Jason to say goodbye and then I’m out of here.”

“I’m actually already waiting outside, so take your time,” William said. “I’ll be here whenever. Take as long as you want.”

“I love you, William.”

“I love you too, minskatt. I’ll see you soon.”

Aberdeen locked her phone. She took another deep breath, replaying the conversation in her mind, before resolving to find Jason. She turned around to keep searching.

Only to find Jason standing a few feet behind her.

When she saw the look on his face, she knew immediately that he’d heard every single word of the conversation she’d just had. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. No – her heart dropped into the depths of hell. Her breath caught in her throat. She felt like her entire body was on fire. “Jason,” was all she could say.

“January,” was all he said.

Her hands began to shake. She reached out to him. “Jason—”

“Don’t,” his tone was harsh, and his entire arm flinched away from her. She tried to say something but nothing would come out. “Since January, Aberdeen? January?!”

“Jason, please—”

“I don’t – I – late night visits to hotel rooms?!” his voice kept rising as he verbally began to piece all the information together. “How – how could you?!”

“Jason, I can explain—”

“No! No you can’t explain! There’s nothing to explain in a situation like this! You lied to us! You lied to all of us!” he kept saying, his voice strained. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. He couldn’t believe the words that had come out of Aberdeen’s mouth. “Aberdeen, I went to bat for you time and time again. I looked out for you this entire fucking year and this is what you were doing behind my back? Hooking up with William Nylander?!”

“Ja—”

“You promised me, Aberdeen. You promised me that day that guy stalked you that there was nothing happening between the two of you. I took your word for it, Aberdeen. And William – William promised me nothing was going on that night you got stitches. And now you’re telling me this has been going on since January?!”

“Since the Night With the Blue and White,” she said, voice strained, tears welling in her eyes now. There was no use in lying to him. He was Jason Spezza. “The first time it happened was that night when I got home. When we got home. I can’t – I couldn’t…”

Jason was quiet, but she could hear how heavy he was breathing through his nose. She knew he was trying to calm himself down so he didn’t blow up at her. At this moment in time, though, she wasn’t so sure he’d be able to do it. “I can’t believe you’d do this to the team. To me. To Brendan,” he stressed. His voice was calm. Eerily calm. “I never want to speak to you again.”

Aberdeen’s cheeks flushed red with emotion almost instantly. No. It couldn’t end like this. It couldn’t. She tried reaching out to touch him again, but he flinched once more and took a few steps back to distance himself from him. “Jason—no—please—let me explain—”

His next words cut Aberdeen like a knife. He looked her dead in the eye. “I’ve never been more disappointed in you.”

A sob escaped her and she covered her mouth, but it was no use. Tears were streaming down her cheeks like Niagara Falls and her heart was sliced into a million pieces as she watched Jason turn around and walk out of the room, not bothering to look back at her.

What hurt most of all was that so much love goes into disappointment. Someone can still love you but be disappointed in you and that was infinitely, infinitely worse than someone hating you. It hurt so much more. Jason wasn’t wrong when he said he’d looked out for her this entire year. He wasn’t wrong when he said he’d went to bat for her this year. He’d done all those things out of love, because he cared for her, because he wanted to see her succeed in an environment that was, historically, not kind at all to young women. He’d done it to look out for her, to make sure she didn’t get hurt, to make sure she got where she wanted to go.

Jason Spezza was disappointed in her. And that hurt more than anything else.

Aberdeen sat down in the middle of the room and began sobbing.

***

William was scrolling through his phone when he noticed Aberdeen walking speedily towards his car. He unlocked the doors and slipped into the passenger seat, taking off her mask and throwing it onto the dashboard.

He immediately saw that her entire face was red, and her eyes were practically bloodshot. “What happened, minskatt?” he asked.

She looked like she was going to cry again. She turned her head towards him. “Jason overheard our conversation.”

William stopped breathing momentarily. “So he knows.”

She nodded her head, face scrunching up to stop tears from falling. “He said he never wants to speak to me again. And he said he’s never…he’s never been more disappointed in me.”

“Hey—hey, c’mere,” he said, grabbing her chin and leaning over the centre console to give her a loving kiss, feeling the tears stream down her face. He continued to kiss her for as long as he could. “It’s gonna be okay, minskatt. It’s going to be okay.”

“No it’s not,” she shook her head vehemently. “It’s not going to be okay. It’s not.”

“Yes it will. He’ll get over it.”

“No he won’t,” she was steadfast. “He hates me William, and he never wants to speak to me again and he’s disappointed in me. He’s not gonna just get over me lying to him for the past nine months.”

“We lied to him,” William clarified for her again, like he did on the phone. “We lied. He’ll be madder at me than you. He’ll get over it. It’s going to be okay.”

Aberdeen shook her head. She wanted to believe him – she really did, but her mind was all over the place right now. “But what if it’s not?” she asked.

“Are you listening?” he asked.

She visibly calmed down at the question. “Yes.”

“It’s going to be okay because I love you, minskatt. Because we love each other.”

She nodded her head. He loved her. She knew he loved her, and that he would for the rest of their lives. And she’d love him too. That brought her more solace than anything. “I love you too, William.”

He gave her one last, long, lingering kiss before he put the car in drive. He fiddled with his phone to start the music, the opening notes of “Quitting You” by the Arkells playing through the speakers. He grabbed Aberdeen’s hand and held it in his enormous one, bringing to his lips and kissing it tenderly and holding it against his heart momentarily before settling it on his lap. She looked out the window at 50 Bay Street, saying goodbye.

She looked at William. The man she loved.

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