#state of grace series

[nathanbatemanfucker]

SoG Blurb: Reassurance

summary: 6 months after you and aaron had a second chance, you’re still unsure about where this is headed.

pairing: fem!reader x aaron hotchner

content: internal angst, fluff, kissing, hotch being sickly sweet

an: sometimes hotch fluff is just a need <3. again thanks for @kryptonitejelly for encouraging me to post the blurbs of this series!

word count: 723

state of grace masterlist | cm masterlist | requests are closed

When you wake to any empty bed in the morning a sense of dread rushes through you. You didn’t remember Aaron waking you up to say he was called in but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. There are a few things that keep you from truly committing to whatever it is the two of you are doing: your doubts of being enough, the looming possibility of his ex wife, and his job. The latter is the easiest, really not a problem and more of an adjustment but those first two you aren’t sure you’ll ever shake.

But how could you not try when you get to have him finally?

You hear a cabinet door and know that you aren’t alone in his apartment. It feels weird to be in the city, you’re rarely here but for him you’ll make the drive any time of any day. You still only come when Jack is away, unsure if you’re really ready to make that connection. Jack getting attached to you and vice versa wouldn’t be good, especially if this eventually ends.

“I know that face.”

You jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice. You’d thought you were alone. “Fucking Christ, Aaron.”

“Sorry, I thought you heard me.” He’s biting away his grin as he leans against the doorframe with a mug filled with coffee.

“Totally forgivable if that coffee’s for me.”

“Only once you tell me what you were thinking about.”

You groan in frustration, laying back on the bed. “I was thinking about how I’m not ready to meet Jack,” You say hesitantly.

You hear rather than see him walk into the room and set down the mug. The bed sinks beside you, and his hand comes to cup your cheek, “Does it seem like I’ve been rushing you?”

“No, no, Aaron, you’ve been patient with me. I just have some reservations still.”

A frown paints his features, eyebrows pulling together, “What can I do to make it clear that I love you?”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t clear.”

He gives you a sympathetic smile, “Honey, you didn’t have to.”

Guilt. It starts in your toes, creeps up through every single one of your muscles until it’s anchored in your stomach. Openly doubting the man you love makes you feel icky, “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t make this easy on us, I’m aware of that. But we’re here now and I’ll do whatever it takes,” He says matter of factly.

There’s something strangely romantic about him talking about your relationship as if it’s one of the budgeting reports he works on. But it means that he’s serious, dedicated, and committed to doing what needs to be done. It makes you feel a little more at ease.

“It’s all in my head I suppose.”

“What is? Talk to me.”

You look up past him at the ceiling as you speak, “I just want to be enough for you. I don’t want you to look anywhere else…at anyone else. In familiar places and not.”

He turns your head, makes you look him in the eyes while he says his next words, “You’re everything to me. I couldn’t imagine my life without you anymore. I’ve lived it, and while a lot of what I had was right, just as much was wrong because you weren’t in it. I’ll tell you that, every day for the rest of our lives if I have to.”

You kiss him then in an attempt to say everything you’re feeling. He kisses you back eagerly, his fingertips calloused against the skin of your soft cheeks. Your tongue explores his mouth on a path you’ve memorized, shivering at the taste. Once your lungs scream for air you pull away, keeping your mouth rested on his.

“Even when I’m old and wrinkly and have to eat mush again because I lose all my teeth?” You murmur against his lips.

He raises an eyebrow at you, “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“You like me dramatic.”

“I love you dramatic,” He captures your mouth with his once more, swallowing the giggle that bubbles from your throat. His eyes are warm, glowing when he pulls away. “Feel better?”

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips, “A bit, yeah.”

“Bit by bit, I’ll convince you. Every single day.”

“I can’t wait.”

nsfw tagged: @ssahotchsbitch, @azenpal, @chelseyjoyce, @ssamorganhotchner, @kuolonsyoja, @heliotropehotch, @averyhotchner, @zetasaturno99, @art-and-thoughts, @akira-155, @laurensprentiss, @ssa-montgomery, @thinking-bucky, @silvermercy, @fightingdragonswithwho, @ashhotchner, @moonshine-evelyn, @emlynblack, @ssahotchnerxx, @sunshinemunchkin, @angelfxllcm, @wheelsupkels, @jaspxr, @sadgirlml, @gspenc, @hotchs-bitch, @hotched, @crowfootwrites, @reidselle, @strange-mischief, @eternal-silvertongued-prince, @scargarcia-magshotchner, @honeybrowne, @greg-montgomery, @rousethemouse

[wlntrsldler]

ii. and i never saw you coming, and i'll never be the same. | luke castellan | state of grace

sixteen-year-old luke castellan has his first kiss with you, the girl he'd been hopelessly crushing on for the last two years.

athena!reader x luke castellan. not canon compliant, no betrayal. happy ending luke :)

series masterlist | previous | next

sixteen-year-old luke castellan was shooting daggers at annabeth right now while she playfully approached you, pretending to expose his crush on you. 

“beth!” he hissed, making a ‘cut-it-out’ motion with his hands. chris chuckled softly from beside him, too entertained by the situation unfolding. luke jabbed his elbow into chris’ rib, unable to handle two of his so-called friends laughing at his demise. “annabeth, please don’t!” 

that caught your attention. you turned around to see annabeth, a sheepish smile on her face as she awkwardly waved at you. you cocked an eyebrow before tilting your head to see luke, half-standing from the bench with a frozen expression on his face. chris was doubled over in laughter, nearly falling off his seat. 

“come with me,” you placed both hands on beth’s shoulders, letting her lead you to the two hermes boys. you stood in front of them, removing your hands from beth and crossing them over your chest. you playfully pointed between the three of them, “care to tell me what this is about?” 

“i think luke should tell you,” chris shrugged, making eye contact with annabeth. the two of them erupted in giggles and luke wanted the ground to swallow him whole. if it wasn’t for his friends’ actions, he’s sure it would’ve been the redness on his cheeks that gave it away. 

“well, go on, head counselor,” you bit your bottom lip, finding his blushing face completely adorable. 

you and luke got closer over the past two years since he got to camp. he was always around the athena cabin, at first because he wanted to be close to annabeth, but everyone knew that it slowly morphed into wanting to see you and hang out with you more. because he was always with you, the campers got to know him fairly quickly. luke was right– everyone did love you, and by association, the campers liked him too, or at least, tolerated him. 

you were known to be the nicest head counselor, even before you took the position from oliver, known as the best archer in camp’s history, and the wisest daughter of athena. the more luke hung out with you and got to know you, the more his feelings for you developed.

in his defense, it was hard not to fall for you. he’d never met anyone as funny as you. every time he returns to the hermes cabin from being with you, his stomach hurts from laughing so much. you seemed to finish each other’s sentences so the punchlines of the jokes die on the tip of your tongues, but you’re both out of breath from laughing that not finishing the joke didn’t even matter. 

you took care of everyone at camp, even if they weren’t your own siblings. he’d seen you bandage travis and connor stoll up one too many times and let them go instead of writing them up for one of their pranks. the boys would return to the hermes cabin, heads hanging low, with a look of short-lived apologies on their faces when luke asked them about why they had bandages on their forearms. luke pretended not to notice the knowing smiles the two troublemakers shared whenever he would say, you’re lucky counselor y/n was there. 

you were fearless. you were often chosen to be a companion for quests because everyone knew you were the best. you never denied them and it got to the point where chiron and mr. d had to make a public service announcement that you were no longer allowed to go on quests unless it was your own because camp fell apart during the weeks you were away. the first time luke prayed to the gods, to his father, was when you returned from a particularly difficult quest with clarisse and you were in the infirmary for three days.

but above all that, you made luke a better person. you inspired him to always find kindness in everything. you cared so much about your siblings and the campers and it made him open himself up to care for his own siblings. he and chris were inseparable now and luke knew he probably wouldn’t have been ready to get close to other people if it weren’t for you. you pushed him to work on his sword work, helped him understand strategies, and taught him everything about camp. eventually, people took note of him and he became the hermes head counselor not too long after. 

in between all of these things were luke’s favorite moments; like the calm minutes after hours-long training sessions, where you reveal something new about yourself. you’d go on and on about a random story that goes off into at least ten tangential stories, but luke didn’t care. he’d gladly lay on his stomach, letting the rays of the sun beat down on his back until his skin turned red and hot to the touch, to hear you talk. you’d roll over on your back or prop your chin on your open palm and ask him questions about himself. and luke would tell you things he’d never told anyone before. luke treasures these moments in his mind– small, happy memories, like a step-by-step guide on how to fall in love. 

“they were just going to pull a prank,” he lied, ignoring the ‘thumbs-down’ motion annabeth sent his way and the ‘womp womp’ that chris let slip past his lips. “told them to quit it.” 

“tsk, tsk,” you tutted, but there was no anger on your face, only fondness. you looked at annabeth, “i expected better from the daughter of athena, but you’re too much like your brother.” 

“oh, ew, don’t say that,” annabeth shook her head, walking away as luke raised his hands in defense. chris pat luke on the back, following annabeth back to camp to join everyone else. 

“i am offended that she is in her, ‘i hate my brother phase,” luke scoffed, shaking his head. he moved over to let you sit on chris’ previous seat. “i’m not that bad to warrant an ‘ew.’”

“she loves you,” you nudged him, letting your shoulder stay connected to his. “she’s exactly like you, even if she doesn’t admit it.” 

“she’s got the good parts of me,” he replied, looking down at where his shoulder was touching yours. his hand slowly crept to yours, trying not to be super awkward about it. 

he’d held hands with you before, when you’d mindlessly lace your fingers together underneath the table while you were talking to someone, wanting to feel him there, making sure that he was next to you or when you’d hold his hand during moments where he’d get so frustrated with the gods that you had to calm him down. but he always got nervous initiating it.

over the years, he’d grown to be strong and unafraid, but when it came to you, his resolve crumbled. with you, he was just a teenage boy with a crush.

“so, she’s got all of you,” you said, noticing his hand moving closer. you put a hand over his, flipping it over so you could properly hold it. you squeezed his hand making him rub his thumb across the back of yours.

“not all of me,” he turned his head to look at you, “i see parts of you in her, too.” 

“you mean our mom.”

“no, i don’t,” luke replied, sincerity in his eyes. “i mean you.” 

sure, annabeth was brilliant like the daughter of athena should be. she was always six steps ahead of everyone else and she quickly became your right-hand woman when coming up with strategies for capture the flag. there was no doubt that annabeth was a daughter of athena.

but there were so many parts of you, the person she looked up to the most, in her as well. annabeth was more patient than luke. she can explain things to younger campers, and sometimes older ones, a hundred times without getting frustrated that they weren’t grasping the concept. luke had to walk away so many times when he got frustrated. you’re such a hot head, luke, you said to him once, a teasing smile on your face as you ran your hands down his back to help him relax. beth also grew to read people well. she can hear the unspoken words in conversations and know exactly what someone needs, a heightened sense of emotional intelligence that luke knew she couldn’t have learned from anyone else but you.

there were other, simpler, things too; like how annabeth doesn’t tie her shoes too tightly, unless she was training or competing, so she can slip her shoes on and off easily, or how she tucks her camp necklace under her shirt just like you. 

the look in luke’s eyes was intense. you had to look away before you lost your senses and connected your lips with his. he does this often, say things so nonchalantly like it didn’t make your breath catch in your throat. he says these words with such clarity, like the only things he’d ever been sure of in his life were the things he says about you or to you. it made your head spin. 

“so,” you changed the subject, untangling your hands from each other to turn your entire body to face him. you poked his cheek with your index finger, “you gonna tell me the truth about what that was?” 

“what’s that?” he asked, dumbly, trying to act like chris and beth didn’t just leave you alone with him. he pretended to think, rubbing his chin with his fingers, “dunno what you’re talking about?” 

you groaned, dropping your forehead to his shoulder. you felt him wrap an arm around your torso, his chest rumbling as he laughed at your reaction. you looked up at him, temple pressed against his shoulder blade, “c’mon, luke,” 

“no,” he shook his head, face turning red again, “it’s humiliating.” 

“if i tell you a secret, can you tell me yours?” you whispered. luke shivered at the feeling of your breath hitting his skin. he felt the goosebumps rising on his arms that he had wrapped around you. you pulled your head away from him, creating more distance, ��how does that sound?” 

“no promises,” he replied, eyes darting to your lips for a brief second. he cleared his throat, “if your secret is a good one, then maybe i’ll consider it.” 

“oh it’s a good one,” you said, mischief in your eyes. there were only a handful of moments where you let go of your head counselor persona, where you’d join the hermes cabin in wreaking havoc on camp.

his sixteenth birthday came to mind. you arranged for a surprise birthday party for him. he woke up to an empty cabin, which was rare, and camp was deserted when he left to grab breakfast. when he got to the dining hall, all the food prepared were his favorites and there was a messily painted banner hanging across the walls, courtesy of the art skills of the younger campers you taught during arts and crafts the day before. 

the food wasn’t nutritional at all and mr. d made it clear that it would never happen again. i don’t know what i was thinking saying yes to an all-day sugar rush, he muttered after the third instance of young kids breaking their arms from attempting to climb up on their cabin roofs. maybe twinkies and salt and vinegar potato chips were not the healthiest breakfast foods, but luke thought it was perfect.

he received his present from you after, a messenger bag for the son of the god of messengers and a compass that always pointed him back to the athena cabin. so you always find your way home, you reasoned. 

luke knew he didn’t need a compass to bring him back to you. his dad gave him the ability to always find his way back home and he was glad you knew that to him, home was wherever you were. on his sixteenth birthday, with you under his arm and the compass safely tucked inside his pocket, for the first time, he was thankful to be his father’s son. 

that look of mischief in your eye always meant that you had something up your sleeve and luke didn’t know if he should be excited or scared. luke pressed, “tell me, then.” 

“i have a crush on this boy,” you scrunched your face up, cheeks dusted with the lightest shade of pink.

he pursed his lips, heart dropping. he knew this time would come. he was thankful that he was spared from the boy talk that you engaged in with your other friends. he often heard you and silena squealing about some guy one of you liked and he was glad that you had other friends to talk to about it because he couldn’t handle you gush over another guy when he felt this deeply about you. 

“it’s the new aphrodite kid, isn’t it?” luke asked, pulling away from you. “everyone is in love with him. even clarisse said he was cute! i personally don’t see it.” 

you rolled your eyes, “luke, come on.” 

“what?” he asked, “i’m pretty sure he’s not even a natural blond.” 

you didn’t know if luke was playing dumb or if he genuinely didn’t realize that you were talking about him. you’d been blatantly obvious about how you felt about him, at least you thought you had been. you were always sitting beside him, choosing him to be your partner for head counselor activities, spent every free moment you had with him, and you were touchy with him, more than you were with anyone else at camp. at this point, all that was left to do was to spell it out for him. 

you laughed, throwing your head back in laughter, “it’s not jack.” 

“who then?” 

“nope,” you said, shaking your head. “you gotta tell me your secret now because i told you mine.” 

“that was like half a secret, angel!” 

“okay so tell me half of your secret!” 

“fine,” he relented, “i have a crush, too.” 

your eyes widened, heart beating a million miles an hour. you knew how he felt about you, but you'd just been waiting for him to say something. “now, you have to tell me!” 

“you first!” luke laughed, reaching out to grab you when you got up. you slipped past his fingers, walking away. “come back!” 

your laughter filled his ears as you stood behind him. you wrapped your arms around him, propping your chin on his shoulder. luke nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, letting out a content sigh. he tilted his head to the side, his lips ghosting over the skin of your arm. 

you stayed like that for a few beats until he broke the silence. he should be upset right now because you liked a boy and wouldn’t tell him who it was, but it was hard to be mad when you were holding him like this. he looked up at you, a boyish grin on his face, eyes half open, “you gonna tell me?” 

“it’s obvious,” you said, running your fingers through his hair. he purred under your touch, grabbing a hold of your arms to stop you from leaving his side. you weren’t planning to. “come on, luke. use that pretty little head of yours.” 

luke tucked his face into the crease of your elbow, hiding his blush. he racked his brain for anyone else who you could have a crush on, but his mind ended up blank. when he thought of who on this earth could deserve you, he came up with no names. there was nobody who was good enough for you. 

he changed his strategy. who did you hang out with at camp? he tried to think of the people he saw you with. he’s seen you with the boy from the apollo cabin a few times but that was usually only when one of your siblings got injured. maybe the boy from the hephaestus cabin? the one who made his sword? no, you only talked to him on luke’s behalf that one time when you noticed he needed a new sword because he broke it during a particularly intense training session with you. he frowned. the only guy you actually hung out with at camp was him. and that couldn’t possibly be… unless? 

luke’s head snapped up, “do you like me?” 

“do you like me, he says,” you mimicked, “took ya long enough.” 

you placed a chaste kiss on his cheek before running away from him, giggling and blushing like a school girl. luke couldn’t react quick enough to stop you from leaving, too dazed at your rushed confession. when he snapped back to his senses, he jumped from his seat, using all his strength to chase after you. he was thankful for his growth spurt because he caught up to you before you entered the main area of camp. 

he wrapped his arms around your hips, twirling you around, ignoring your sounds of protests. he stared at you as you beat on his chest, hair in disarray from the wind. his lips were in a full-blown grin, head spinning with thoughts of you. you. you. you. you were all he could think about. 

he finally put you down but left his hands on your hips as you tried to fix your messy hair. he liked you like this, soft and shy. it was a part of you that felt like was reserved for him. usually, you took on this authoritative, caretaker role, always having the weight of responsibility resting on your back, but with him, in these secret moments, you were delicate. luke wanted to protect you from everything, not because he thought you needed his protection, but because he felt like he’d finally found his purpose in this life-- to be with you. it was still caused by the hands of fate but away from the meddling of the gods.

“you like me,” he teased, pinching the skin of your hips. 

“don’t get cocky,” you replied, smacking his chest. 

luke hummed, leaning closer, “i like you too.”

“i know,” you whispered, inching closer to him. “just wanted you to confess first.” 

“c’mon angel, cut me some slack,” he blushed, eyes darting to your lips. he ran his tongue across his lips, “didn’t think i had a shot with you.” 

“you need to start giving yourself more credit, luke,” you reached over to cradle his face in your palm. your eyes traced over his features, mesmerized by the pools of honey in his eyes, the pink of his plump lips, “you’re the best person i know.” 

“all ‘cause of you,” there were those words again. there was no room for argument when luke spoke about you. he was sure of it, too sure of you.

“are you gonna kiss me or am i gonna have to make all the moves in this relationship?” 

luke rolled his eyes, “shut up.” 

he placed his lips on yours, unable to stop himself from smiling as you kissed back. he pushed you towards him, wanting to feel you closer. the kiss was short because you were both breathless and grinning. it was messy and uncoordinated with it both being your first kisses. when he pulled his lips away from yours, he placed kisses all over your face, your jaw, your neck, his curls tickling your skin. 

eventually, he stopped in a fit of giggles, lips puffy and pink. there was a dazed look on his face, as if he couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. he let go of your hips but threaded your fingers together as you walked into camp, burying his face into your hair when he heard chris and beth hollering in support when they saw your intertwined hands and disheveled demeanors. 

[massiveladycat]

maybe the "did you love me?" could be seen as platonic or romantic, but i'm not here to argue about that honestly, even if it was meant in a platonic way, luke was still an awful person. he manipulated kids in bad positions to join the titan army, knowing full well so many of them would die and knowing full well camp half-blood was full of children. in fact, he knew most of the campers personally children who trusted him were exploited and luke castellan is literally one of the most evil people in pjo deadass and it surprises me when i see people trying to defend him list of all the things he's done, excluding what he's done when possessed by kronos:

stole Zeus's lightning bolt to start a war with the gods, knowing full well that would have led to many deaths

framed 12-year-old percy for stealing Zeus's lightning bolt

gave 12-year-old percy cursed shoes meant to drop him into tartarus. he would NOT have survived that. that was done with every intent to kill percy.

summoned a hellhound to kill percy

left percy alone with a deadly scorpion

poisoned thalia's tree to put the campers (CHILDREN) in serious danger

tried to kill 13-year-old percy in a duel

deceived Annabeth into holding up the sky in place of atlas. she was 14. holding the sky is extremely painful. he literally took advantage of the fact she still had affection for him.

used Annabeth to make artemis hold up the sky

extorted silena into being his spy, threatening to hurt her boyfriend if she disobeyed; also took advantage of her crush on him (she was 14 or 15, luke was 23) anyways. fuck luke castellan and he is NOT innocent and never will be and he hurts children❤️ yes i agree that the gods are pretty messed up but he was more than willing to harm the people the gods were harming. he claimed to only want the best for them, but he was likely the number 1 reason that so many of the kids were dead and/or traumatized. he can't claim to only want the gods to be better when he's going to take it out on kids who've done nothing wrong.

[dv-kelp-face]

Y'ALL

THIS IS SOO COOOL!!!!!🥺😭

[liesmultixxx]

state of grace is so percabeth coded

[somewhereincairparavel]

Gotta love how when Aphrodite gave the lost trio a makeover, she legit just changed the colour of Jason's shirt to purple and called it a day lmao. We love a barefaced photogenic beauty king <3

[mandalorian-chiara]

One thing about me is I never knew Taylor Swift was singing “you’re my Achilles heal” in State of Grace until I saw an ungodly amount of Percabeth edits

[syrusinthedust]

Earlier I made a post about Holloway being the Guardian to the Baudelaires so now I present to you:

Hatchetfield x ASOUE HCs and Ideas that haunt me

Duke was the one who convinced Holloway and Poe that she should be the Baudelaires guardian.

Duke also Absolutely hates Mr. Poe. Mr. Poe believes Duke to be a friend/good coworker.

The Baudelaires tried running away when they first got their because they needed to find the Quagmires and they wanted to Protect Miss Holloway

Miss Holloway immediately clocked Count Olaf and until Wilbur got involved was always 5 steps ahead

Duke Also immediately clocked Count Olaf, which surprised everyone except Holloway.

Violet became a Freshman at Hatchetfield High, befriending Hannah.

She also loved Tom Houston’s Shop Class, and went on to become his apprentice as he taught her the business side.

Hannah was really excited to have a friend at her school and ended up introducing her to Spitfire, Daniel, and Lex.

Lex and Violet bonded over going through so much trying to protect their siblings.

The Baudelaires fully believed Duke and Holloway were dating and did not realize they weren’t for the longest time.

Klaus ended up running into Pete at some point and befriended the Nerds, joining them for DND

Grace Chasity babysat Sunny once. It went so wrong. There was fire.

Sunny once almost ate the black book.

Sunny was once left in the Kitchen of Miss Retros and made something so good Miss Holloway added it to the menu. Duke gave her the title of “Non-Retro Retro’s Chef.”

Every time someone from VFD (including Olaf) stops by, they assume Miss Holloway is from VFD or has a connection to it.

Similarly, Miss Holloway often assumes that VFD members have connections to the Cult of the Starry Children.

The Baudelaires were once accused of being chemists, which confused them to no end.

Violet once socked Max in the jaw, breaking it.

[truthdarespinbottles]

Surprise Song Series 2: this is me trying // state of grace

[boypussydilf]

getting worked up over Doctor Who Lore is just so funny “but this thing is contradictory!” “this new lore drop is gonna ruin everything forever!” “oh that thing can’t happen that’s too absurd” guys the doctor’s abilities include being able to fully understand babies and animals & also straight up flight. who cares

[dwuerch-blog]

Something to Shout About

Forgive me as I take off on a tangent today. We lived in Tulsa, OK for forty-plus years and we were avid fans of OU — Oklahoma University’s sports teams. We always rooted for them. On the other hand, my brother-in-law who attended Oklahoma State University, with his children, were huge OSU fans. We were friendly rivals when we would have OU vs OSU parties at our home. So of course when I see…

[wlntrsldler]

iii. you come around and the armor falls, pierce the room like a cannonball. now all we know is don’t let go. | luke castellan | state of grace

seventeen-year-old luke castellan returns from his failed quest and wonders if he's good enough for you.

series masterlist | previous | next

seventeen-year-old luke castellan came face-to-face with death but against his better judgment, and the medical advice from lee who told him to lay in bed and heal, he stood up to drag himself across the floors of the infirmary to sit beside the bed where you were unconscious. 

thankfully, you were going to be okay. it would just take a few hours for the medicine to kick in until you regain consciousness. it was luke who took the brunt of the attack. he can feel the sticky bandages covered in his blood across his back and his face. luke managed to prop himself up on the small wooden chair. 

he’d grown taller and bigger over the years and the chair was definitely not the most comfortable place for him, especially not with all his wounds, but he had to make do. he couldn’t stay on his bed, across the way from you while you slept alone. in the off chance that you’ll wake up before the 5-hour estimate they’d given him about the medicine, he didn’t want you to wake up without someone next to you. 

you weren’t even supposed to be there. he didn’t even know how you’d found him, but he should’ve known better when you looked at him with that look in your eye, the look that he got from you whenever you were about to save him from something, even if he didn’t know he’d be in trouble yet. you always seemed to show up just when he needed you– like his own personal guardian angel. 

he thought back to when he was fourteen and you let him tag along with you, oliver, and beth to the athena cabin because you noticed he was anxious to be left alone. you didn't even know what he'd gone through then, but you somehow knew exactly what to say, what to do.

he thought of his first full summer at camp. he'd just turned fifteen, before he was named head counselor, and he accidentally set the shed that the satyrs used to house their gardening tools on fire. the stolls managed to sneak in fireworks and the three of them thought the perfect welcome for the summer campers was a firework show. he wandered into the shed in search of a lighter and found one tucked underneath a tablecloth, probably left by one of the older campers when they smoked.

between him and his siblings, they shared one and a half brain cells so he, stupidly, tried the lighter while he peeked his head under the tablecloth and the whole thing erupted in flames before he could even react. thankfully, you were already out looking for him when you noticed he slipped away from dinner.

you helped him put the fire out before it got too bad and paid for the damage with the few drachmas you had saved up. luke managed to pay you back after picking up random tasks for campers for a small fee, although, you argued with him that it was okay, that he didn't owe you anything, but at that point, luke figured he owed you much more than just a few drachmas.

chiron and mr. d ended up loving the idea of the fireworks show and asked who was responsible for the festivities. you stood up and pointed at him, grinning like you were happy he was finally getting the recognition he deserved. he didn't think he deserved the credit, it would've ended in a shitshow if it weren't for you.

he was promoted to head counselor a week later.

luke fell asleep hunched over your sleeping body, sleeping on the side of his face without the fresh scar. he woke up to the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp a few hours later. he sat up, immediately holding your hand between his own. 

“you’re up,” he croaked out, rubbing the tears away from his eyes, “how are you, angel?” 

“feelin’ great, bub,” you faked a smile, exhaustion evident on your features. “how are you? you’re the one who got attacked by a dragon.” 

luke flinched at the memory, holding your hand up to his lips, “don’t worry about me. i’m good.” 

“let me worry about you, hm?” you mumbled. “i’m always worried about you.” 

“you shouldn’t have been there,” he sighed. his anger against his father was rising again. “it was my quest. you’re not even allowed to go on other people’s quests anymore, remember?” 

“you’re dumb if you think i was going to let you go into a suicide mission alone, luke,” you replied. you moved over on the small bed, motioning him to join you. “needed to make sure you were gonna be okay.” 

“i don't want that if it's at your expense,” he mumbled, following your request. you laid your head on his chest, allowing him to push you closer to him. his hands found the ends of your hair, twirling it around his fingers, “don’t know what i would’ve done if you–” 

he couldn’t finish his sentence. he didn’t want to think about it. he let himself be delusional, ignoring the reality of being a demigod. luke wanted to beat the odds with you, get out of here with you, mostly unscathed. he didn’t want to think about a life without you in it. he couldn’t. 

“hey, it’s okay,” you placed his hand over your heart, letting him feel it beat. “i’m okay, see?” 

your optimism was something luke admired about you. the way you viewed life like a gift despite everything you'd gone through. he wished he could see things the way you did, but he didn't understand it.

he looked at you, thinking of how you'd just risked your life for him, and he couldn't stop himself from feeling so hopeless. this was not the life you deserved.

he let out a breath, turning to face the ceiling, “i don’t understand how you’re not furious at the gods right now.” 

“there’s so many horrible things to be angry at, luke,” you whispered, placing a kiss on his bruised hands. “i’m mad at the gods for allowing this to happen to all of us, their children. i am angry luke, but i have been given so much because of it, too.” 

he stayed silent, letting you continue. he felt his breaths even out as he listened to the sound of your voice. 

“i grew up as an only child until i met my siblings. now, i love them. i can’t imagine not knowing them,” you smiled, “the rest of the campers, they can be a handful sometimes, but there isn’t a boring day in my life. there’s always adventure and fun and love.” 

luke turned to look at you to find that you were already staring at him. even in the dark, he can make out the look on your face. that face that made him feel safe so effortlessly. 

“i met you because of them,” you continued, placing a soft kiss on his lips, trying not to put too much pressure on him knowing he was still healing, “there are so many things i am angry at the gods for, but knowing you… well, it makes up for it, don’t you think?” 

he didn’t know if he had a complex enough vocabulary or if there were any words in any language that could scratch the surface of how he felt about you. you were in every part of him. he thought of you, your eyes when he woke up to the sun shining on his face, bright and hopeful because there was a new day ahead. he thought of you, your lips when he tasted the fruits they served during meals, sweet and addicting. he thought of you, your smile during his nightmares, safely pulling him back to reality, a life where you were there with him. 

it’s only been you since he met you. he had a feeling it’s only been you in every life he lived before this one. and it will only be you in every life after it. 

luke settled, “i love you.” 

“i love you,” you replied, kissing him once more. “let’s rest now, hm? want to be able to kiss you proper.” 

he couldn’t help but laugh, shutting his eyes as his body succumbed to the tiredness in his limbs, “me too.” 

lee fletcher found you two tangled in the covers, sleeping soundly, when he entered the infirmary the morning after. usually, he’d scold his patients for disobeying orders, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the rules right now, not when you and luke looked so peaceful sleeping beside each other. 

word about luke’s failed quest spread quickly after your return. the looks of pity were starting to get to luke. you noticed that he’d been distant, too, opting to not let you clean up his scars when he replaced the bandages. he only went in to see lee when he knew the infirmary was absolutely clear of people. he stopped letting you touch his face and run your hands down his back. at first, you chalked it up to the fact that he was healing and the wounds probably still hurt to the touch, but after a conversation with lee, where you slyly asked how luke’s healing process was going, you knew it wasn’t that anymore. 

lee let you know that the wounds were healing faster than anticipated. new tissue was replacing his damaged ones and that the cream he prescribed luke would ensure that the scars would be faint, noticeable, but not as intense as they could’ve been. you walked away from your conversation with the boy with your shoulders sagged and your smile a little less bright. there was something else going on with luke and he wasn’t telling you about it. 

when luke returned to the hermes cabin, tired from his three-hour-long training, he expected the cabin to be empty with all his siblings away at the campfire, but instead, he found you, tidying up around the area of his bed. he shut the door quietly, hoping to have a few moments where he could just admire you. 

he’d been avoiding you more than usual so he hadn’t gotten the chance to spend as much time with you as he’d liked to. he doesn’t remember the last time he hugged you longer than a quick side hug before he was jogging to move onto his next activity or the last time he’d been able to have a conversation with you about something other than counselor duties. luke missed you. he missed you a lot, but he felt so disgusted with himself that he couldn't bring himself to be in your presence. 

the scars were healing fine, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d think he was hideous and weak and a failure. it seemed like everyone else at camp did, anyway. the scar on his face stretched from his eye all the way down to his jaw. every time he looked in the mirror, it reminded him of what he wasn’t able to do, of what he put you through. it made him sick to remember it. 

the wounds on his back started on his shoulder blades and ended in the middle of his spine. it wasn’t a good look. not even all his trainings and his workouts to get his back defined could hide the scar. 

his wounds were now the first thing people noticed when they saw him. he hated it. 

he wasn’t naive enough to believe that he was the most attractive guy in the world, but at least before the quest, he felt like he was average. he was tall enough, built adequately, and he wasn’t terrible to look at. but now, it felt like he was knocked down a few pegs. if he thought he didn’t deserve you back then, he sure as hell knew he didn’t deserve you now. 

he watched you fluff his pillows and fold his blankets before he decided to make himself known. he walked over to you, placing a quick kiss on the back of your head, before walking to his dresser to pull out his clothes for bed. 

“been waiting for you,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his torso. you gently placed your head on his back, listening to the sound of his breaths pick up. “where have you been?” 

“training,” he replied, removing your arms from him. you placed your head so close to his wounds and he was sure you could feel the bumps of his flesh through his thin camp shirt. “why aren’t you at the campfire?” 

you frowned, sitting on his bed, “because you weren’t there.” 

“you can still go and hang out with your friends,” he reasoned, directing his head at an awkward angle so you don’t see the scarred side of his face. the bandage on his face fell off a few hours ago. he forgot to stop by the infirmary to ask lee for some more.

“don’t wanna hang out with them right now, luke,” you said, eyebrows furrowed. “i want to hang out with you.” 

“i’m really tired right now, angel,” luke turned around again, pretending to dig through his drawers for something. he tilted his head low, hoping that his shadow would hide his face. “maybe tomorrow or something?” 

“okay,” you sounded defeated. luke heard his sheets ruffle from under you as you got up. he followed the sound of your footsteps all the way to the door. he waited for the sound of the door to open, but it never came. instead, it was your voice, hushed, “luke, i don’t understand.” 

he lifted his head, “huh?” 

“i said i don’t understand,” your voice was trembling. luke couldn’t help but face you then. your eyes welled up with tears, bottom lip quivering as you tried to speak. “what’s going on with you?” 

luke clenched his jaw, “nothing.” 

“there’s something going on,” you rebutted, walking closer to him. you stopped in your tracks as he took a step back. you let the tears fall, “i can usually sense what’s going on with people but with you right now, i just can’t. i-it’s like i’m so blinded by how i feel about you that instead of understanding what’s going on with you, i can only focus on what i could’ve done wrong.” 

“you haven’t done anything wrong,” luke licked his lips, wanting nothing else but to hold you in his arms. he was fighting back the tears now, too. the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry. he sniffled, “i’m just tired, angel.” 

“that’s never stopped you before,” you said. “even before we were dating, you always found me just for the sake of being with me. we'd talk nonsense until we lost our voices, and then we'd sit in silence together. you used to sit and wait in the back of the art room until my lesson was over just so we could come back here and be together until it was lights out.” 

“that was then.” 

“what changed?” you asked, voice hoarse. your tears were unstoppable now. you rubbed your eyes, trying to get a clearer vision of the boy in front of you. he was hidden in the shadows of the dim light. “do you.. do you not feel the same about me anymore?” 

“no, never that,” he shook his head, eyes wide. he tossed his clothes on his bed, stepping closer to you. “i love you, you know this.” 

“so come back to me, luke,” you cried, taking a tiny step closer to him. “come home to me.” 

luke groaned, falling to his knees. he buried his face in his hands, sobbing at your words. you ran to him, engulfing him in a hug, as his sobs shook his entire body. he mumbled incoherent words into his palms. 

“what is it, luke?” you asked him, peppering kisses on the crown of his head.

he took a deep breath, “i’m not ready for you to realize that i’m not good enough for you anymore. i’m not ready to lose you.” 

“oh my love,” you sighed, prying his hands away from his face. he turned his cheek, biting his bottom lip. you weren’t having it anymore. you grabbed his face in your hands forcing him to look at you, “what’s gotten into you?” 

“i know you see it,” he said, voice cracking. his eyes were focused on the wall behind you. “the scar. i know you see it.” 

“and?”

“it’s hideous, angel,” he confessed. a single tear rolled down his cheek. you were quick to wipe it away, “i know what people say about me now.” 

“is this what all of this was about?” you questioned, pressing your forehead to his.

luke closed his eyes. he missed you so much. “yes.” 

you removed your hands from his face and let your index finger trace the line down his scar. he sucked in a breath despite himself. he wanted to hide and shy away from you, your touch left him vulnerable and open, but he knew there was no need for that anymore. you pressed soft kisses all over his face, cradling his jaw in your palm. you kissed the lids of his eyes, the crease between his eyebrows, the points of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, until you got to his scar. 

you were even gentler now, luke didn’t know how it was possible. he could feel your lips ghosting over the raised flesh, apprehensive. he squeezed the skin of your hip, giving you the okay. with that, your lips touched his cheek, a kiss with purpose. 

luke shuddered at the feeling. why did he deprive himself of this? from the love in your touch and the emotions behind your actions? he pulled you closer, trying to make up for lost time. 

you sighed happily in his grasp, pulling yourself away from his cheek to place a kiss on his lips. all the air was knocked out of luke’s lungs. he’d kissed you a million times before, but this felt different. luke knew you loved him, you said it more than he deserved to hear it, and of course, he felt your love in everything that you did with him; in stolen touches in the middle of crowds, in corny jokes you made just to see him smile, in your words when you tell him he’s more than enough, but in this kiss, it was all of those moments, all of what you felt for him, amplified.

he couldn’t breathe. it was too much, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from you, not when you were kissing him like this. not when you were anchoring him back to where he belonged. not when you were reminding him of everything he could have if he just let himself have it. 

eventually, you pulled away from him, tear-stained cheeks and pink, raw lips. luke thought you looked incredible. even after all this time, over a year of being together and over three years of knowing each other, your cheeks still flushed because of him. a small smile made its way to his lips, you still had that effect on him too. 

you got up from the floor, offering your hand to luke. he gladly accepted it and allowed you to lead him to his bed. you slipped off your shoes, your signature cartoon owl socks on full display as you laid on his bed. he joined you, pulling you close to his chest. you buried your head into the crook of his neck, fingers playing with the string of his camp necklace. 

the campfire was coming to an end and soon the cabin would be filled with his loud, rowdy, siblings, who he grew to love, but for now, he’ll get lost in this moment with you. he’ll wander aimlessly in this feeling, the feeling of his girl asleep on his chest, a hand over his heart to remind him that she's still here. he’ll let himself get lost for a few more minutes, after all, he’ll always find his way back home to you. 

[iamthedukeofurl]

Discworld is an interesting beast in the age of ACAB. Like, the city watch books are a story about police and the way in which a good police force can help and protect people. Which would make it copoganda. And I'm not going to say that the City Watch books are completely free of copoganda, but they also do something interesting that fairly few stories about heroic police officers do, and I think it has a lot to do with Samuel Vimes. A lot of copoganda stories like, say, Brooklyn 99, are perfectly capable of portraying cops as cruel, bigoted, and greedy, but our central cast of characters are portrayed as good people who want to help their communities. The result is that the bad cops are portrayed as an aberration, while most cops can be assumed to be good people doing a tough job because they want to help protect people from the nebulous evil forces of "Crime". The police are considered to be naturally heroic. Pratchett does something very interesting, which is provide us with Vimes' perspective, and present us with an Unnaturally heroic police force. In Ahnk-Morpork, the natural state of the watch is a gang with extra paperwork. It's the place for people who, at best, just want a steady paycheck and at worst want an excuse to hit people with a truncheon. Rather than be an army defending people from the forces of Crime, the Watch is described as a sort of sleight-of-hand, big burly watchmen in shiny uniforms don't stand around in-case a Crime happens in their vicinity, they stand around to remind people that The Law exists and has teeth. The Watchmen are people, when danger rears it's head, their instinct is to hide and get out of the way. When faced with authority, their instinct is to bow to it out of fear of what it might do to them if they don't. Carrot is a genuine Hero, but his natural heroism is presented as an aberration. Normal Cops don't act like Carrot does. The fact that the Watch ends up acting like a Heroic Police Force is largely due to the leadership of Sam Vimes, but Vimes himself is a microcosm of the Watch. The base state of Sam Vimes would be an alchoholic bully of an officer, one who beats people until they confess to anything because that makes his job easier. Vimes The Hero is a homunculous, an artificial being created by Sam Vimes fighting back all those instincts and FORCING himself to behave as his conscience dictates. Vimes doesn't take bribes or let his officers do the same because, damnit, that sort of thing shouldn't happen, even if doing so would make things a lot easier. Vimes doesn't run towards sounds of screaming because he WANTS to, he forces himself to do so because somebody needs to. It's best summed up in Thud “Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Your Grace.” “I know that one,” said Vimes. “Who watches the watchmen? Me, Mr. Pessimal.” “Ah, but who watches you, Your Grace?” said the inspector with a brief little smile. “I do that, too. All the time,” said Vimes. “Believe me.”

In the hands of another writer, or another series, this exchange would be weirdly dismissive. To whom should the police be accountable to? Themselves, shut up and trust us. But from Vimes, it's a different story. Vimes DOES constantly watch himself, and he doesn't trust that bastard, he's known him his entire life. The Heroic Police are not a natural state, they're an ideal, and ahnk-morpork only gets anywhere close. Vimes is constantly struggling against his own instincts to take shortcuts, to let things slide, but he forces himself to live up to that ideal and the Watch follows his example. Discworld doesn't propose any solutions to the problems with policing in the real world. We don't have a Sam Vimes to run the NYPD and force them to behave. We don't have a Carrot Ironfounderson. But it's at least a story about detectives and police that I can read without feeling like I'm being sold propaganda about the Thin Blue Line.

[ambivalence-is-me]

All I Want (One-Shot)

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Do opposites really attract? Feyre didn’t think so but Y/N and Azriel prove her wrong.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: fluff

A/N: this is kinda from Feyre’s pov, beginning of ACOMF. I’m in love with the idea of someone from the outside looking at two people in love. I’m thinking of turning this into a series? Or just more one shots? Like write about the dates, the wedding, that stuff. Let me know if anyone would be interested to read it!

————————————————————-

Feyre was shocked. Well, lately it seemed that’s all she was: shocked with a side of skeptical and scared. How else was she supposed to feel after everything she’s been through? She’s thinking of the very first times Rhysand took her to the Night Court. It was during one of those ‘’visits’’ that she first met you.

‘’She’ll help you with anything you need’’ he had said and that you did.

Feyre had taken one look at you and didn’t really know what to think. Physically you didn’t look like a threat, you were beautiful (it seemed there weren’t ugly faes) and your posture was relaxed, like you weren’t standing in front of the Cursebreaker but just another fae. You were smiling kindly at her, no judgement in your eyes and then you started talking.

And you never really stopped.

You were a yapper. Answered all of Feyre’s questions as best as you could and more. You walked her through the court’s history, culture, customs, everything. On her second meeting with you, she had concluded you definitely weren’t a threat. Instead, you were easygoing, kind and just freaking…happy? It seemed like you were always shinning, that nothing can bring you down. Feyre had tested that after a particularly bad day when Rhysand was driving her up the wall. But instead of running away, you stayed and helped her, saving Rhys from another shoe-throwing incident.

You had this soft and gentle angle that reminded her of her sister Elain. But you weren’t quite as graceful as Elain. You were louder, clumsier and upbeat, not afraid to strike up a conversation with anyone about anything. And you definitely weren’t like her sister Nesta but she could tell you shared her observation skills.

Truthfully, for Feyre, you were a saving grace. Someone she could go to in this new world that was thrown at her. She never really expressed any of this of course, scared that if someone found out you’d be in harm's way but she kept you close to her whenever possible.

That’s why Feyre was extremely happy that you were accompanying her to a dinner with Rhysand’s family. Thanks to the information Feyre had gathered from you and meeting them beforehand briefly, she inferred that you obviously knew them but you never stated what was your relationship with them.

Which is why Feyre is now shocked to see the turn of events.

She had expected you to be close friends with them, how can you not? You were a social butterfly and if Rhysand’s family was anything like him, she was sure you had befriended all of them. And you had but not in the way Feyre had expected.

‘’Feyre darling, care to share why you look so shocked?’’ Rhysand asked her with that stupid smile of his. But she couldn’t even bother to answer him, not when she was still staring at the scene in front of her.

Again, Feyre had met these faes…briefly. She’d experience Mor’s welcoming energy, Cassian’s cheeky smiles and jokes, Amren’s silver bright eyes and of course…Azriel’s quiet and intimidating presence. The latter preferring to stay in his shadows and observe the chaos around him.

Which is why Feyre NEVER expected for him to be with…you.

Obviously Feyre didn’t know him, not at all, just what you and Rhysand had told her but she was confident that her observations of him helped her come up with an idea of him. It seemed that she was wrong.

They were all gathered in this beautiful grand room, just chatting and sipping on expensive wine before dinner. Cassian and Amren were in conversation in a corner of the room, the latter looking annoyed at whatever the big Illyrian was saying. You, Mor and Azriel occupied a big comfortable looking sofa. You and Mor leading the dialogue and Azriel, unsurprisingly, was just sitting there listening and assessing. But that’s not what had Feyre shocked. No, it was the fact that you were almost sitting on the Shadowsinger’s lap.

He had one whole arm wrapped around your waist, it screamed ‘’she’s mine’’. His other hand touching your hair softly, as if he put any more pressure on it, it would break. His eyes went back and forth between all of the faes in the room but stayed mostly on you. And Feyre didn’t know if he knew that he was smiling.

SMILING

A small soft smile that Feyre didn’t know the Shadowsinger was capable of. It made him look a thousand times more irresistible. A thought that didn’t go unnoticed by Rhys, who arched an eyebrow at her in return. But Feyre didn’t say anything, she opted to try and hide her surprise and continue on with the evening.

An evening that only continue to bamboozle her. At the dinner table, you were sitting infront of Feyre. Azriel on your left side, Cassian on your right. It was a pretty funny picture Feyre would love to paint. Your frame and sunshine aura in the middle of two big intimidating Illyrian soldiers. As she had expected, you were mostly leading the conversation during dinner. Cassian and Mor quickly keeping up with your jokes and laughter, Rhysand chimed in at times but seemed content to take it all in with a soft smile. But Feyre was observing Azriel and Azriel was observing you.

His eyes didn’t seem to wander off too much, seemingly staying on you throughout the night. He looked at you like you held the world in your hands. Honestly, Feyre had never seen anything like this up close. There were no doubts that this male was incredibly in love with you and honestly, Feyre didn’t even know how to react.

Feyre thought she loved Tamlin at one point but now, after witnessing how Azriel looked at you, just this one look, she was extremely in the wrong.

If you moved, Azriel moved. He was so attentive to your needs: refilling your drinks, serving you more food, he held your hand, brushed your hair away from your face; all of it without you having to ask once. At one point, you looked at him with a smile Feyre hadn’t seen from you before and kissed his temple. An act so simple and yet so intimate that Feyre had to look away. Small tears graced the corner of her eyes, her chest felt so…whole?

She was in a room full of so much love that it was overwhelming her. This isn’t what she expected at all.

You seemed to notice that something was wrong with Feyre. Asking her with your eyes what was wrong. But she didn’t say anything, just gave her a look that you hoped would understand that said ‘’we’ll talk later’’. And later you did.

‘’You’re with Azriel?!’’ She had all but exploded the next day when it was just the two of you.

You smiled and said ‘’Yes’’ like it was a fact so obvious that Feyre should’ve have known. But it only confused her more.

‘’But-you-you’re so…’’

‘’Different?’’ You finished. The same smile still on your face. Feyre could only nod.

This wasn’t the first time someone had questioned your relationship with Azriel. To be fair, you were the very first one to question it back when you started courting a couple of hundred years ago. Because the truth was that you and him truly were opposites. You, an extrovert and him obviously an introvert.

But it was your differences that somehow made it work, that completed each other. At the beginning it had taken time. You never seemed to stop talking and you worried that it was only annoying Azriel. But you never did, at least, he insists that you don’t. But you’ve learned to know his little quirks and expressions. You’ve learned when to stop your yapping around him, particularly only for few moments after he’s had a bad day. You’ve learned his ways, and he learned yours.

He learned to interpret the moments when you kept a conversation going because you wanted to and not because you felt like you HAD to. He learned how to ground you back and remind you that your job wasn’t to make everyone’s day brighter. He learned to take care of you, and you took care of him.

You explained all of this to Feyre, a soft smile never leaving your face when you talked about your Shadowsinger and Feyre couldn’t help but smile back.

‘’In the human world, we- ‘’..She cleared her throat. ‘’When people love each other, they get married but here that seems so…miniscule. Like, marriage isn’t enough for the love you and Azriel have.’’

It was the best thing Feyre could say because really, she didn’t know how else to compare the love you and Azriel seemed to have.

You beamed at that. ‘’I thought the same actually but our wedding day was one of the best days of my life. Right after our mating ceremony.’’

Feyre looked confused. Mating ceremony? But you only kept smiling.

‘’ We’d already been married for a hundred years when the bond snapped. Mating bonds are so special and rare, Feyre’’ You looked at her.

‘’I was already blessed to have found a male that loved me and all of my loudness. And then, to be gifted a mating bond with him?’’ You shook your head as if you still couldn’t believe it.

In truth, even many years later, you still couldn’t. And that was all Azriel. He made you feel so incredibly happy and whole. He still made you feel like a fool, as if you’re a female who’s experiencing falling in love for the first time. And perhaps that’s why the shock Feyre had felt still hadn’t left. Because she couldn’t comprehend how you and Azriel made it look like it was just yesterday that you got together. Like you were still in the honeymoon phase.

Feyre had seen married couples in her village. They fought and yelled at each other frequently, almost never held hands and especially didn’t show public display of affection. But what you and Azriel had didn’t look like that AT ALL.

Later, after you had left saying ‘’Azriel said he had a surprise but I’m pretty sure I know what it is. I don’t care what his job description is, I can find out what he’s planning!’’, Feyre was still processing your love story.

It didn’t seem real. It didn’t seem real that two people/fae could love each other so much, who would do absolutely freaking anything, including die, for each other. After her experience with Tamlin, Feyre wasn’t sure if she’d ever have what you and Azriel have. Deep down inside, she wanted it. She felt like she didn’t deserve it, specially after what she’s done but…she hoped that maybe one day, however far it may be, she would have someone who would look at her like Azriel looks at you.

[hoshigray]

𝐒𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Going on a date with the guy who broke your heart is something you’d never thought would happen – especially on Valentine’s Day! But it’s just for him to be in your good graces again, nothing more…Yeah, go ahead and tell yourself that.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining + confessions - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - going on a date - sex in a public space; hotel room - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (sucking and swiping) - missionary position - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up + Gojo doesn't shoot inside) - pet names (baby, cutie pretty, princess, sweetie) - angst + fluff - cameos: Shoko, Mei Mei, Utahime, Geto, Nanami - mentions of tears and spit - humor bc I'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k (going out with a bang, jfc)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: final part to this short yet fun story !! tysm for the love you've given this series, it was a random idea that came to me last year and I'm so glad I was able to put more thought into it. all y'all's comments and rbs have been entertaining to read thru, love the support and engagement this story sparked with you, and I thank you sm for sticking around ccc: also!!! ty for 5.9k loveliessss mwah mwah~

and lol, yes, the title is based on the laufey song, hehe~

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“Sorry, Satoru, Y/n doesn’t wanna see you right now — like, at all.”

“Oh, Gojo. Sorry, Y/n’s in no mood to talk to you right now. Said you better not make so much as a step past this door. Because if you do, I’ll have to charge your savings.”

“Hmph, you got some nerve, Gojo! Didn’t you hear from Mei Mei earlier? Y/n doesn't wanna talk to you…What the hell did you do this time?”

You could hear your roommates telling off the person showing up at the front door from your door. Before, they’d come to you and ask if you wish to give this person an audience for your presence. Yet you say the same thing: you’re not ready to converse with them. You’ll probably never want to talk with them again. 

It’s been like this for the past week. Ever since the little fiasco between you and Gojo — not to mention you slapping him across the face for his upsetting words — things between the two of you have been quiet as promised. The very last words you ever told him were to never speak to you again after publicly humiliating yourself by crying in front of him.

Outside of being the talk in everyone’s mouth (I mean, who wouldn’t gossip about one person slapping another after walking into them saying some mean shit about the other), you’ve been worried about by your friends ever since the incident. Your direct senior roommate, Utahime, was the first one to see you crying to yourself after coming home from classes and immediately called up Gojo to rip him a new one for making her junior roomie cry. Shoko was the passive one who listened to both sides yet still put your emotional state above anything else, telling Gojo white lies that you weren’t in your dorm room whenever he’d try to visit. And Mei Mei walked with you to your classes throughout the week in case the tall figure tried looking for you.

But it didn’t stop there. After that day, your Contemporary Issues course with Professor Naga was sheer awkwardness. The silent tension between you and Gojo was so thick that it effortlessly suffocated your peers and made it hard to concentrate — especially for the professor and your friends, Ijichi and Haibara. Outside of the class, you did your part in avoiding Gojo, and the same applies to the lectures you shared with him. No words, no greeting – not even a mere glance – were shared in his direction. It was as if your life mission was to avoid him at all costs.

However, this is Satoru Gojo we’re talking about. Although he respected your no-talking rule in the premise of lectures, he’d still try to get your attention once class was over. And even then, you’d bolt to the door to not give him the chance. He’d follow right behind you and have to maintain a respectable distance when Mei Mei was the light lavender eyes behind your back.

But what the hell did he expect? What he said hurt you to your core, so there was no way you’d want to speak with him again. He deserved that slap! The sting you inflicted on his face for a few minutes was nothing compared to the torment of your heart that’s been aching for a long while now. You can’t even look at Gojo after what had transpired. The pain he caused has been with you for a while, yet it still felt new and fresh to reflect on. 

And yet…your mind still can’t help but agonize you even more. Do you think it was easy to not engage with Gojo this entire time? Oh, it was the worst, both for your soul and mind. The memories of his smile and dimples would come up every often, pooling you deeper into your dread. The routine of him speaking to you with whispers when it was just the two of you — like he didn’t want others to find you in the comfort of each other’s presence — like it was sacred. And the way he said your name. It toyed with your heart whenever you’d reminisce it. 

“Y/n!”

Especially after how much has changed in your relationship with him, you really thought things between you and him were going for the better. Or, to be honest, becoming something a lot closer and personal. Something you grew to want with him as the days’ encounters and nightly calls went by. 

“Y/n...”

But you were wrong, lecturing yourself for being so dumb and naive for wanting such a thing. Amid the fun, you had forgotten what you two were and believed that you could change from that. Change with him. And yet here you are, broken-hearted, barely concentrating on your Word document on your laptop. 

“Hey, Y/n,” your brow twitched with the snap of reality, Utahime opening the door after knocking. “It’s the front door again; it’s—“

“GRRRAAAHHHHHHHHH!!” 

You were never one to shout within your apartment — Utahime’s eyes widened at the sudden shout of vexation. You stood up from your desk and walked past her, marching through the hallway. Mei Mei peeks from her shared room, and Shoko pours coffee in the kitchen. All three of your roommates observe you stomping to the door.

You swung the apartment door open with vigor, “I SWEAR TO CHRIST, GOJO, WHAT PART OF ‘DON’T EVER TALK TO ME’ DO YOU NOT UNDERST—…Geto?”

“Oh, hey there, Y/n. I was worried about you.” You were surprised to open the door and not find the unusual silver hair you expected. Instead, it was Suguru Geto, Gojo’s dark-haired direct roommate, rubbing his cold hands together that weren’t covered with his black windbreaker. Next to him was Kento Nanami, standing silently in his sand-colored trench coat.

“Hey, guys,” knowing they aren’t who you thought it would be, your shoulders relaxed with your tone. “What’s up?”

“Well,” Geto sighs heavily before telling anything. “We wouldn’t be here for a reason. And, after hearing what happened between you and you-know-who, I think you can guess why we're here, too.”

And then it hits — the realization of how these two’s abrupt appearance came to be. “…He asked you two to come and talk to me for him.” 

The two roommates look at each other for a second, and then Geto points behind him with his thumb to the stairwell door. You follow his finger, seeing the person you’re talking about watching you from the door window. You try not to contort your face into an ugly, exasperated expression in front of the other boys. So, you settle for a sigh to alleviate the stress growing inside you.

“Ugh. What is it.” You ask Geto with an attitude that wasn’t easily sheathed.

“Honestly, all I know is that he really – like, really – wants to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to him. So there,” you shake your head and backtrack past the threshold of your door. “Sorry you two came here for no reason, but I can’t—“

“—Wait!” Geto cuts you off and brings a hand on the door to stop you from closing it. You caught the intervention, widening the door again. Geto explains himself. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you—well, no, sorry. I get that Satoru said some things that hurt you last week. Believe me: I already lectured him hell and back for it when Shoko told me you came home crying, and you have every right to be mad at him right now…But—“

“Did he tell you what he said to me?”

“H—No, he didn’t,” your brow quirked at that response. He didn’t? “All he told me when I confronted him was that he messed up real bad and crossed a line.” 

“A line?” You enunciated after him. “That’s cute...Geto, he won’t tell you what he said because I caught him saying those things. That scumbag,” you averted your gaze to the door window, seeing Gojo gulp at your fierce eyes. “—knows what he said. And he knows that I told him I want nothing to do with him for that.”

Nanami was quiet throughout the entire thing, so it took you aback when he spoke. “And I’m on your side in that regard. You’re right, he is a scumbag; tactless, crude, borderline annoying—“

“Just borderline?” Geto points the word out to lighten the mood.

“And the type of person to get on someone’s nerves purposely. And with that, I don’t blame you for cutting him off. If anything, it’s what he deserves, if not more.”

You knew there was more to say beyond that. “And yet…"

“And yet,” Nanami picks it up. “…I’d be lying if I said that guy doesn’t know when he’s at fault. He can be prideful and childishly playful — albeit disrespectful to anyone he thinks doesn’t deserve it. However, he’s not emotionless, and if he is disrespectful to his friends, he knows when he’s in the wrong.“

“And take it from me, Y/n.” Geto comes in with the assist now that things are a bit calm. “Fucking asshat will take days to apologize to me for something stupid, and that’s if he feels like giving me one. But even if he doesn’t, I know he cares about me like any best friend…Like he cares about you.”

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes, so you close them and shake your head. “He doesn’t care—“

“Yes, he does.” Nanami doesn’t let you finish that sentence. “Like I said: Gojo is many things, but he’s not an emotionless moron. Because I can tell that whatever he said distraught you to your core and made him feel bad about it — pathetically so.”

“…How do you know?” You don’t know why you asked that question; why the fuck should you care? The fucker in question is the one that broke your heart behind your back, so why bother?

“Because when he came home that day, Geto pulled him by the shirt, threw him against the wall, and yelled at him like no tomorrow. And he just stood there, letting Geto give him his rightful lashing. He even told him he didn’t deserve you as a friend, which I agreed with. But then Gojo said something after that…”

Again, this isn’t something you should be caring about. So why are you turning to Geto to ask, “…What did he say?”

“He said I was right, that he definitely didn’t deserve you.” Before the raven-haired boy answered, he exhaled through his nostrils. “And that what he said about you was, by far, the dumbest thing he’s ever done, which is saying a lot.”

“A whole lot.” The blond-haired boy jumped in. “Y/n, don’t take this as me vouching for him. But, if you could have seen the look on his face when he said that,” he nods when you shake your head ‘no’ again. “You would feel the guilt and shame pouring from him. It was pathetic to look at — pathetic for him to express. But it was real.”

And you know it’s the truth — not because it came from Nanami, but because you could picture the scene as if you were there. You could just imagine Gojo’s face, a dangerous move as your heart skipped with a twinge. You imagine the emotions he was expressing, your skin crawling thinking about his blue eyes – usually filled with life and light – appearing so broken and devoid of animation. 

“He does care about you — there’s no mistake about it. You two have been friends since freshmen year; he’d be an idiot to let those years go down the drain because of him. And that’s why we went along with coming here in his stead and asking you to talk to him.” You open your mouth, but Geto isn’t finished. “Please, Y/n. You’re the mature one, but you don’t have to act strong on this one. I can only assume, of course, but I’m sure you want this handled, too.”

He wasn’t wrong, yet at the same time, you couldn’t shake the heavy feeling that was weighing you down. 

“I…I don’t want to speak with him.” The two guys didn’t change their facial expressions. “Not now, at least...I don’t want to see his face right now.”

“Then how about a phone call later tonight?” Nanami proposed. “You two can talk it out with each other after you guys think about what to say to each other. You can even have the call while we’re sleeping so you can have privacy.”

“Ehhh, but I’m nosy.” Geto teases his sophomore roommate, making the younger blonde huff. 

“Not tonight, you are. Plus, you got a project to present tomorrow, so you need sleep.”

“Fair, fair…But seriously, Y/n, you should talk with him. If not for him, then for us, for Shoko, Utahime, Mei Mei, all of us. We don’t want you upset about what this idiot did this time. So, one talk should be okay, right?”

It should be okay. Keyword: should. However, the anxiety that you harbor within your limbs tells you otherwise. The pool in your stomach churning into a state you find uncomfortable to fight against. 

But concurrently, you couldn’t lie to yourself; a piece was missing in all of this. The resolution was needed — there had to be a way to see the entire picture in this matter. Otherwise, you’d be walking around campus mad at the person behind a door examining your reactions for the entire semester — no, the whole next year! You knew you didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that. You can barely go through it right now. So, might as well get this off the table before it worsens…At least, that’s what you say to rationalize.

“…Okay,” you straightened your posture. “The girls have morning classes tomorrow. Tell him to call me at midnight.” 

Your answer sealed the deal, the two males dismissing themselves before you closed the apartment door. Your roommates peered around the corner once they heard the door lock, coming to ask if you were all right. You molded a faux smile and said you were fine, and yet you couldn’t tell if that was a lie to them or yourself. 

From there, the time felt so long to witness and experience throughout the day, watching one hour pass after the other. The sun had never settled under the horizon so slowly before, taking its time to draw the curtains of darkness over the Earth. And yet the time went fast simultaneously — the minutes spooked you every time you looked at the clock. 

Was this the universe’s way of toying with you for agreeing to talk to Satoru Gojo? It had to be. Your stomach doing somersaults didn’t help either; you could barely get through eating dinner because the dreaded talk bound to happen in a few hours was all your mind could think about. 

And then, when everyone was fast asleep ten minutes before midnight, your nerves couldn’t settle down. Five minutes before, you decided to take yourself and the phone to the bathroom (because the fan would be loud enough to tune out your conversation), needing the tiny space to yourself to pace back and forth and not to disturb Utahime snoring away. One minute before, you were sitting on top of the toilet, watching the seconds go by on your phone, praying that he wouldn’t call on the dot. He wouldn’t buzz you at the immediate stroke of twelve, right? He had to be doing something — anything else — hoping he’d spare you another minute if he could.

BZZZR!! BZZZR!!

However, that wasn’t the case. He called you right on the dot, and your heart jumped at the vibration from your phone. His display name was titled ‘do not answer this jerk,’ a change you made the day after the incident. Yet here you are, in the bathroom, and your thumb shaking over the green button. 

It wasn’t until the sixth vibration that you pressed the button with a sharp inhale, bringing the phone to your ear with haste. The silence was in the air for a couple of seconds, worsening your anxiousness. Until—

“…Hey.” He was the first to say something, thank God.

“Hi…..Where are you?”

“Outside my apartment, sitting on the stairwell...You?”

“In the bathroom.”

“You sitting on the toilet?”

You know what he was doing, making the conversation easier before getting to the hard stuff. Nonetheless, you admit it was working while your nervous state gradually deteriorated. “…And what if I am?”

“Then I’d say….Heh, actually, no. I can’t make that joke right now. Not when we’re like this.”

“Mmm, like this…” You hummed, the awkward tension filling the silence once again. “….Look, Gojo—“

“Before you say anything,” he cut you off, but you allowed it. “I have a lot I wanna say to you, and I want to get them out the way before I forget and never get the chance to say them to you…Can I say them?”

Your brows scrunched together, your free hand drawing reassuring circles on your thigh, and your teeth gnawing on your bottom lip. “…Go ahead.”

“Okay…So, first off,” you held your breath to brace yourself. “What I said about you on that day — I’m not gonna sit here and say I didn’t mean those things when I said them because I did. But NOT in the way you’re thinking.”

“Then what way did you mean them, Gojo?”

“I meant them in the implication that I was trying to protect what you and I had.” Had? “Our relationship was being questioned, some girl was asking about us and…I know you weren’t ready to have our business out in the world yet, so I thought….I just said what was believable with how everyone sees us since we’re always butting heads and shit. So, I said and meant those things to protect us in the heat of the moment. And then…I guess I got carried away.” 

“You guess you got carried away?” You repeated, your anxiousness now substituting for subtle anger. “…Just a little person angry at the world around them? So exhausting to deal with someone so boring and uncute as me?”

“Holy fuck, you remember it all—“

“Of course I did!” How could you not!? “And then — hmph, now this one I’ll never forget — ‘I’ve seen prettier, been with better, I feel sorry for the poor bastard who does end up with them’…” Your emotions were a mix of offense and pain, irritation and misery. Despite that, your voice maintained a calm tone, even if you wanted to do nothing but yell at the screen. Yet that wouldn’t solve this. “Gojo, the fact that I know all of that, verbatim, and have refused to talk, think, touch, or even look at you since them…To say you got carried away is just…like, holy fuck. Who the hell were you?” 

He didn’t say anything for a minute, but you couldn’t blame him. Being hit with his own words like that, any moral human being would stop and let that shit simmer into their skin. 

“…I’m sorry,” you wanted to call bullshit so bad, but not after he followed up with this. “Really. I’m so…so fucking sorry, Y/n. I know that shit wasn’t cool, and, to be honest, I expected more than one slap for that. I only meant it to save you the burden of gossip; believe me when I say that.”

“I—ahem…” Nope, you were not going to do this. Not tonight. “I want to believe you, Gojo. But I just…I can’t; it hurts my head thinking about it.”

“I know…I did that to you, and I’m so fucking sorry. My foot was too far up my mouth when I said all that, just one useless thing after another….And you know what’s crazy? I think my conscience knew me spouting shit wasn’t the right call. I mean, I literally walked with you to the class that day; what kind of friend does that and say shit like that afterward? And when I saw you….the way you looked so…distant? Just like that, everything that we had was just gone. I couldn’t see it — I saw absolutely nothing when I saw you. That scared me, seeing the happiness and the smile you had minutes ago just vanish with the flip of a switch. And I fucking did that. I knew at that moment that I lost you…..Y/n…? Are you crying?” 

You immediately moved the phone away from your ear, covering your mouth with the arm of your sweatshirt. The cries you tried to suppress poured out at that moment, and the pain that scratched your insides left your system with every sob and intake of breath. The tears damped the material, soaking them in as they rolled down your cheeks.

As ways to start the eve of your Monday, crying with the person who broke your heart on the phone was not one you expected to be one of them. It all hurt: the rapid emotions, the memories of that day replaying in your head, the genuine sincerity expressed in his voice. It was all too fucking much, your face heating up to a concerning level that you’d think you’d blow up.

You give yourself a few seconds before bringing the phone to your ear, “….What else?” 

“Huh?”

“You said—sniff—that you had other things you wanted to say to me.” A change of subject was necessary, not wanting him to notice the broken crack of your voice. “So, what else?”

The request took him aback, but he knew better than to question or fight you. “…Second of all, I wanna say – since I’m not sure I’ll ever get the chance to tell them to you in person – I want you to know that you’re more than what I said. There’s nothing 'kinda' pretty about you — you’re pretty all over. I’m not saying that to butter you up; it’s something I’ve said to myself all this time…Who am I kidding, saying I’ve been with prettier and better when I hurt the most beautiful and kindest one my eyes ever laid on….? Boring and uncute? Heh, you’re anything but. Sure, I say you're uncute when you nag at me to no end, but I don’t think there’s been a single day that I’ve thought you were a sore for my eyes. You’re too gorgeous for that.”

“Gojo—“

“I don’t deserve you as a friend, Y/n.” Your breath hitched. “Honest. I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now. And yet, you gracing me with time to spare shows that I really don’t have the right to have you close to me…I’m sorry.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he was honest about his apology. You felt it in your bones; your gut told you what Gojo told you was true. Your anger was nowhere to be found, but your guard was still up.

You slowly exhale through your mouth before taking your turn in the conversation. “So…Is that all?” 

“….”

“…Gojo?”

“….”

“Gojo? Are you still—“

“I like you.”

Okay, you lied; your guard wasn't up for that.

There’s no way he just said that. There’s no way those three exact words left his mouth and entered your eardrums. They kept ringing throughout your head, bouncing off the walls of your cranium with each repeated syllable. Your eyes widened by the second, your body coming to a complete standstill. And yet, the only thing that was moving and showed signs of life was your heartbeat increasing with the silence.

He likes you. The Gojo Satoru — your frenemy, annoying peer, and friend who enjoys your yelling and nagging — likes you.

“You…You what?” You heard him perfectly, but you wanted to confirm this wasn’t some joke.

“I like you.” He didn’t hesitate to replicate. “I do, I really do. I’ve liked you for….quite a long while, way before we started having sex together.”

“How long ago is that?”

“I think since the spring semester of freshman year when we had started to get a little closer before you became friends with Geto...Yeah, for a while now.”

“…Why?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you like me? 

You heard him sigh out a large breath before answering. “…To be honest, I just like how you…are you. Like, you’re not scared to be yourself around me. Many people I’ve known try to kiss my ass for me to call them a friend, and even then, those guys are assholes…But you, I don’t see that — I never saw that. You’d never kiss my ass; you’d always be down to tell me when I’m wrong or right. Being around you was different from other people; I felt comfortable around you like you were one of my friends.” 

You didn’t intervene, listening to every word he was to say. 

“Not to mention…Heh, you’re so cute. Like, actually. And pretty, and independent, and bright. I can’t count how many times I’ve been lost in my thoughts about you. Especially recently, you’re all that I can think about. I like how it feels to hold your hand, and your fingers look small against mine. I could never get enough of you talking to you; it’s one of the things I look forward to. And, holy fuck, the way you smile. I swear, you could kill me with that face of yours. And your eyes — I’m always told mine are so beautiful to look at, yet I find that impossible whenever I get stuck when you look at me….Y/n? Are you—You’re not crying, are you?”

You said in sniffles. “You’re such a fucking asshole, Gojo…”

“Huh!? Why??”

“You break my heart one day and then say all these things the next…Are you trying to tell me that stunt you pulled is that dumb thing where people say stupid shit about someone else because they like them?”

“Hey, I told you why I said them! Besides, those two bimbos were getting in our personal life, and we didn’t have anything to call our relationship, so…!”

“Sniff—And you! Why didn’t you tell me you liked me for so long instead of annoying me to no end?”

“I could’ve done that, but…I don’t know. I guess our relationship was easier the way we had it. Things were less complicated for you. Plus, you’re cute when you’re angry at me.”You had to scoff at that. Of course, he’d say something like that. He can be such a prick sometimes. “I was okay with how things were, being all naggy and arguing with you while secretly close to you. I didn’t want to change something we were used to into something more.”

“Mmm.” You could only hum to that sentence, letting his words sink in before saying anything. “…Would it have been a bad thing if it was something more?”

He didn’t answer immediately, indicating that he took the question in serious thought. “No…I wouldn’t have minded. But that decision was all yours to make.”  

“Gojo,” The words you were about to say were about to be so nerve-wracking that you had to take in a deep breath. Chewing on your lips while exhaling through an open mouth. “….Would it be a bad thing if I said….that I liked you, too? And that…I still like you—”

KA-BANG-BANG!!

You jumped at the sudden sound coming from the other side of the line, as it was not the response you were expecting, and you could hear him saying curses further from the phone. After a few brief seconds, Gojo’s voice comes back.

“Fuck, sorry, sorry! I just dropped my phone on the stairs!” He sounded so worried, as if he lost you. “You.…You like me?”

“Yeah, I do…” Gosh, you didn’t think this would happen, the heat on your cheeks expanding to your ears and neck. “I really do. And I’m also willing to forgive you. BUT, you have to prove your worth by redeeming—“

“I WILL!” Again, it wasn’t the reaction you were expecting! He replied with such momentous excitement that you could imagine the sparkle in his blue eyes. “I will, I promise! In fact, I have an idea; how about I take you out on a date?” 

Huh!? “A date??”

“Yeah, on Valentine’s Day, this Wednesday! I know this great place not too far from here, or maybe you wanna go to a small café to wind down from classes? You can pick—”

“Wait, wait! We have classes that day; we have our night class with Professor Yaga—“

“We could skip—“

“Hell. No.” You shut him down with quickness. “We’re going over some serious discussions that day for our papers on Friday; we’re just gonna have to do the date after class.” 

“Pfft, God, you can be such a geek sometimes.”

For the first time that night, you rolled your eyes. “Says the Digimon-fanatic talking to me right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He snickers at the phone, and your heart swoons at it. It felt like you hadn’t heard that laugh in ages. “So…Is that a yes?”

It had you thinking for a temporary moment; talking with Gojo again just felt so…familiar. It was something you’d been missing for the past week, accepting that you’d never experience it again. And here he is, inviting you on a date? This was, by all means, a weird night. An apology, a confession, and now being asked out? 

Regardless, you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to be by his side again. And with a chance like this, why brush it off? “Yes, I accept your date.” 

“Then it’s a Valentine’s date. Cool.”

“Cool.” You awkwardly repeated after him, becoming squeamish with the brief silence. “Okay, well, now that we talked. I need to get some sleep.”

“Mmm, okay. Go get your sleep, then. Be sure to think of me in your dreams~”

Your head is shaken again, this time with a smile. “Whatever. I’ll try…Think of me too, Satoru.”

“I always do, Y/n.” Jesus, the way he gently and affectionately said your name. Is this what it’s like to admit you like someone? “Good night.”

“Good night…Oh, wait! You said you had a joke earlier.”

“Hmm…Oh, yeah?”

“Well, now that we’re kinda on good terms…What was the joke?”

“Oh! I was gonna say it’s kinda a shame that you’re sitting on a toilet and not on my face.”

“Goodbye, Gojo.”

“PFFFT, No, wait, I’m so—“

CLICK!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As far as dates go about, this is one that Satoru Gojo was the most nervous about. 

As promised, after your class with Professor Naga ended, Gojo waited for you with his car on Main Street by your dormitory. He was already dressed for the date, adorned with a black turtleneck and jeans that matched his Chesterfield coat. But you had a few things you wanted to touch up on before going out for the night, so he texted back that he’d wait for you outside.

What he didn’t expect was being instantly shot down by you once you came down and walked to his car. Because holy fucking shit, you looked so fucking beautiful. If this was a “touch-up,” all the people he went on dates on must’ve not been trying.

You were wearing a black halter long-sleeve top; your collarbone and shoulders were out for his eyes to trace and breathe to hitch. Your arms were shielded by a hoodie that looked a bit big for you but did its job of protecting you from the cold winds. And black thigh socks that contrasted with the plaid skirt and the puffy boots. And…did you put on lipgloss on? Holy shit.

“So,” you’d say meekly to catch his attention since he’s examining your every feature. “I’m ready…” They were simple words, yet they had the power to have him stop leaning on the car and grab the door for you. You were chewing on your lip, avoiding his gaze that watched every step you took. “You’re staring, Satoru…”

“Hmm? Oh! Sorry...” He’d close your door and mutter, scratching his neck where the heat from his ears crawled around. 

And from there, the date began. The plan? He wanted to take you to some fancy restaurant, but you politely declined and told him you’d settle for dinner and a movie. And you two did just that, going to this burger joint that was popping off when you entered. You two sat at a booth by a window, enjoying your food and conversing about each other’s day.

“You did not have to do that.” You said in giggles, bringing a fry to your mouth. 

“I did, too!” Gojo replied after taking a big bite from his burger. “The fucker almost tried to dirty my basketball shoes; do you know how much those shits cost? Expensive as hell.” 

“Yeah, but to push your buddy to an ice bath because he almost dirtied your shoes?” You shook your head with a smile. “And all shoes are expensive these days, Satoru.”

“Yeah, well, mine were custom-made. So,” he takes another bite. “Serves him right.”

Gojo didn’t notice it himself, but you saw a bit of ketchup on the corner of his mouth. Tending to your friend’s obliviousness, you grab a napkin and stretch to him. At first, he thought you were giving it to him to wipe it off himself; nope. You did it for him, tenderly dabbing the condiment off his lip. 

And you didn’t even notice what you were doing until your eyes met his, instantly pulling your hand back. “Sorry! You just…had something on there…”

“Mmm, thank you…” he said it low, but you heard him. What you couldn’t hear, thank God, was the beat of his heart going at an unsteady rate. It took a minute for you two to shuffle uncomfortably for the conversation to flow back.

After the dinner was the movie, a random action movie that you two felt interested to see. And it wasn’t that bad of a film; the plot was pretty subpar, the acting mediocre, but overall, a good movie. 

However, Gojo couldn’t focus on the movie for lengthy periods because his eyes would usually drift to the right of him where you sat, surveying how engrossed you were watching the film that you didn’t notice him. God, even in the dark, you looked so gorgeous and cute. 

Sometimes, he’d glance at your armchair and look at your hand, the inner dialogue between himself on whether he should go for it and place his hand on top of yours. But he doesn’t do it. He wants to, but he can’t, not like this. It was killing him so much; the feeling of wanting to touch you and have you against him again was haunting him — they’ve been haunting him for the past few days now.

“Fuck…” he’d mutter under his breath, but you wouldn’t hear because of the sound of explosions coming from the theater speakers. He wanted you but didn’t want to mess this date up. He couldn’t afford to screw this chance with you, he just couldn’t. 

Once the movie was over, he’d walk with you to the parking lot where the car was parked. The chill winds of February crawl up on your bodies, and you bundle up into your warm hoodie. “Did you enjoy the movie?”

He hummed with a tilted head. “Meh, I’ve seen better. It wasn’t too bad. What about you; you liked it?” 

You looked up to ponder and shrugged, swaying side-to-side as Gojo leaned on his car. “Yeah, it was okay. There’s better stuff out there.”

“You just saying that to agree with me?” 

“No, maybe you’re reading my mind and copying my answers.” You give a tiny smug look, only for him to smile along.

He then asks, “So…did I do good with this?” He can’t lie; how you lifted your brow instead of giving an immediate answer made him a little nervous. And with the tilt of your head and turning your body fully towards him, you knew you had him in the palm of your hand. You hand him your verdict:

“I think so. You treated me to good food, didn’t try to poison me, and got a free movie ticket out of it.” You jokingly punch his chest. “Yeah, I liked this date, Gojo. Consider yourself redeemed.”

He snickers lightly, “Good, I don’t think I can take another day of you being mad at me.” That made you giggle; good. Things go quiet for a while, and he averts his stare downward. His eyes land on your hand, the thoughts from the movie theater teetering back to his head. Goddamn it, he really wants to touch you—

“I can see you staring through those glasses, Gojo.” And just like that, you propelled your hand to link with his, making the tall boy flinch. “Your subtlety is wearing thin.”

Your teasing tone evokes a chuckle disguised in a sigh from Gojo, his fingers slithering to intertwine with yours. “What makes you think so?”

You peer up to him. Fuck, your eyes were so beautiful. “You were practically staring daggers at me while watching the movie. Am I on your mind that much?”

“Yes.” You expected a different answer – something more playful – and it’s why you couldn’t breathe after he brought his face closer to yours. “Infintely.”

Suddenly, the cold air didn’t bother you anymore. The heat on your face blossoms across your cheeks and ears while maintaining eye contact. “Am I on your mind right now?” He nods, your noses barely brushing each other. You whisper to him, “What are you thinking about?”

“I wanna kiss you.” He closes his eyes; you can see from his shades. “I want to hold you like I did before.” The hand clutching yours gets firmer. “I want you…Just you.”

The way he has with words effortlessly pulls you in, his voice comforting to the point you allow him to put his other hand around your waist. You faintly reply before connecting your lips with his. “I want you too…Satoru.”

When he pecks your lips, a feeling you two feared was wiped off the Earth returns to warm your bodies. Your hands instantly go around his neck like usual, sighing through your nostrils as you permit to sink into his hold and kiss.

Gojo uses this to bring his hand behind your neck to keep you on him, the kiss becoming more passionate by the second. He licks on your bottom lip, a sign of wanting entry. So, you open and lick him back before he takes the initiative to put his tongue inside your mouth. And you moan into his lips — fuck, how he missed the sounds you’d make for him. It felt like forever since the last time he heard them. 

This moment brings the spark between you two back, the sounds of the world around you drawing out from your space. All that mattered was you being in his embrace and him having you with him like this again. It all felt right — being with each other — with nothing bothering this peace meant for you two.

So much so that Gojo took it upon himself to convince you to stay with him tonight at a nice hotel close by, where you two couldn’t get off each other the moment you closed the door to your room. Hot kisses are exchanged as you two remove each other’s clothing, Gojo undoing your bra and lifting you to place on top of the bed. 

His lips never leave yours, even when his hands play with your chest. Your legs wrap around his waist to pull him closer as he rocks into you. Your core down south experiences throbs that entail you want him, your horniness dialing up with every grind of his groin.

He breaks the kiss to playfully bite your lip so he can hear you yelp for him, placing his lips from your chin down to your neck. You say in shaky breaths, “Hahhh, Satoru, please touch me more…”

He lifts his lips from your clavicle, “Of course, princess; you know I always got you.” He then licks from your collarbone down to one of your nipples in a tantalizingly slow fashion, your body squirming from anticipating what he’s about to do. His tongue finds its way to swirl around the bud, having your hum to the wet touch. And when he decides to suck it into his mouth when it’s hardened, you gasp. 

But it doesn’t stop there, one hand tweezing the other nipple as he licks around the one in his mouth. The free one snakes down your abdomen to your skirt, lifting the material for his digits to meet the damp spot of your panties. 

You jerk at the feeling of him moving the material to the side, rubbing his bare fingers on your precious, wet cunt and clit. “Ahhnn! Satoru, Satoru—Mmmm…” He rubs around on your folds in circles before adding his forefinger smoothly inside, his slender digit efficiently rubbing your vaginal walls have you holding back whimpers. 

When he thinks you’re ready enough, he adds his middle finger inside. Both his digits scrape and graze around your inner walls, provoking silent screams to leave your lips. Your fingers find his hair to tug, which only has him suck on your breast more. 

“Hooohhh, mmmmh…Right there, right thereee…please—Ohooo…!” You moan to him, your thighs jerking with every scratch of his fingers in your chasm.

“Mmm…you close, pretty?” Gojo releases your nipple for a quick second, returning it inside his warm mouth after he sees you nod hurriedly. “Hold tight, okay? Lemme get you ready, sweetie…”

You cry at the increase in speed, the nails of his fingers scraping the velvety tender spots inside you. Your body jerks to him as your hands find his shoulders to pinch on. Gojo lets go of your bud once again to move his lips down south, spreading your legs to take a look at your mess.

“Holy shit,” he says with a bitten lip before he crouches down to kiss your clit after slipping your panties off. “I fucking missed this pretty thing so fucking much.” He licks your soapy folds up to your clit, drowning the delicate button with feverish laps of the tongue. It has you screaming his name, and he loved that so fucking much.

Gojo stuffs his face to your slit, drinking your essence while teasing the clit with fast swipes. Your wails get louder and louder, and he doesn’t make it any easier when he keeps your legs spread for him to continue his work. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum, I’m—“Ahhahnn!!”

That’s when you come onto his face, your cunt spasming with electric pulses and your legs shaking with every hit of your orgasm. And he keeps on sucking and licking your fluids; you’d think he’s sucking the life out of you. But you can’t blame him; the boy is starved for you.

He soon withdraws his face from between your legs when you’re done with wailing and crying, licking his lips and leaving off the bed to take out a condom, throwing his jeans and drawls to the floor. But then something is wrong, and you can see it when Gojo presses his lips into a thin line before climbing back to the bed and maneuvers on top of you. He aligns the glans of his cock to the entrance of your vagina, and it’s there that you notice he doesn’t have the rubber on.

“I…I forgot to bring a condom, sweetie.” He says to you in a tune that harbors slight worry, and you can tell from his azure eyes that he’s a little nervous about this step. You held back a giggle; for once, he looked adorable when worried about something.

“…How good is your pull-out game?” You ask, half-jokingly.

His white brows trench together. “Are you sure?” 

You nod and kiss him on the cheek. “I trust you, Satoru, so just be careful, okay?” 

He blinks at you, taken aback by your lack of resistance. Yet, at the same time, he knew you needed this just as much as he did. So, with that in mind, he pushes the glans into you, observing your breathing to gauge how much to propel inside. The tip of his length then bullies itself inside you, a sharp gasp coming from your sweet lips while Gojo moans at the raw feeling of you around him.

“—Hnnn! H–Hooooly fuck,” with every inch he pushes inside of you, the sensation of your pussy chills him up his spine. The rubber had been shielding this away from him, every dent and smooth tissue of you wrapping around him. Oh, fuck, this was a dangerous game to play. “Oh, shiiit, you feel so fucking good..”

You could agree with that notion, experiencing his naked girth inside you for the very first time. You could feel his veins graze against your walls, the curve scraping your spots tenderly. “Ohhhh, fuck, you too, ‘toru…Oh my God…”

Even starting with slow thrusts was a hard card to pull, the subtraction of the condom making this feel so new and fresh — a scary dance to do with two young lovers. He pulls his cock slowly til halfway up the tip and then rushes it back inside to your wetness. Your pretty purrs fly out with every movement.

Gojo takes this time to look at you with your disheveled figure sprawled out for him to see and pick at like eye candy. Watery eyes batting up at him with pleasure behind half-lidded orbs, your chest that he loves so much out for him to give a nipple another tweak, and your legs curling around him as his tempo increases. You’re so fucking beautiful, and he’s so lucky to be able to have you under him again. He wouldn’t want it any other way — he wants to belong to you and you with him. It’s a dream he’d kill to have with you.

“Y/n…” he says your name in a shaky breath, groaning at your slit clamping onto him so suddenly. “Can I…Be your boyfriend?”

You didn’t have enough time to react appropriately because Gojo hammers his cock into you with no warning. You scream out for him to stop, to wait a minute so you can give an adequate response! But no, he ruts into you like his hips have a mind of their own, forcing you to cling onto him for dear life as the curve of his length jabs you in places that have you rolling your eyes to the stars.

“—Ahahhnn!! Ahhh! W-Wait, Satoruuuu!!” Your words slur out with a hot breath, drool coming down your mouth with no control. “You want me….Mmnph! To be your—“

“Yes! Oh, fuck…yes!” He says with no hesitation, slamming his pelvis down to your pussy so fast that his balls smack on your taint. Oh, fuck, this felt way too damn good! “I wanna be yours, and I want you to be mine—Hooooh….No one else’s…!”

“Nnahh…!! Ohhh, my God, fuuuuck…!” Your heart beats eighty miles per hour, your whole body endures heat shared with Gojo, and your thoughts travel too fast to keep up. He wants to be my boyfriend? He wants to be my boyfriend! “…R–Really?”

“Yeah, really, really.” He smiles breathlessly at you, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Let’s be a couple, yeah? I want you so bad; you drive me so fucking crazy—Hannhh!! Shit, shit… I don’t want to hide this anymore — to hurt my cutie anymore. Let’s make this official so I can be with you without worries.” He snaps his hips harshly, grinding his pelvis with the flex of his abs, provoking more horny howls to seep from your puffy lips. He lowers to whisper to your ear while a hand clings to yours on the side. “Whatcha say, princess, hmm? Let’s be together….Hmmm…!”

Holy fuck, this is not a confession you were expecting while having your insides churned out, with your crush between your legs, in the middle of a hotel room, on Valentine’s Day. Your mind was getting foggy enough from the hot commotion in your inner thighs — now your head was filling up with fantasies of being with Gojo as a couple! This was beyond bizarre, something out of a fucking movie! 

And yet, you couldn’t find any reason to say no! There’s no denying it — those feelings Gojo had for you were the same as you had for him. You feel so happy being around him, in his hold, whispering and expressing his vulnerable side to you, and you’d want to throw all that away? Hell no! 

“—Mmm, yessss,” you can’t help but shed a little tear at him, to which he readily dries away with a thumb. “Yesss, Satoru, I wanna be yoursss — please…take care of me!”

Gojo slams his lips onto yours, your mewls taken by hungry lips while his strokes go at a rapid tempo. You almost choke on his spit from the way your clit catches abrupt hits from his pelvis, and the tip of his dick pokes your fragile spots with precision. 

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ! You felt it; it’s coming. You felt it in your bones, the shivers crawling up your spine as you inhaled to prepare. “Maahhh! ‘Toruuu, I’m gonna cumm…! Quick, pull out—Oooooo!!” 

Thank God you gave him a warning. The tall other was too lost in the feeling that he was just about to come inside you! He removes his body off of yours to swiftly pull his member out, using his hand to finish the job for him, although he already misses the warmth of your cunt. 

He comes at the same time as you, his load shooting out from his urethra and spilling onto his hand. White fluids slide between his fingers as he continues to stroke himself off while your legs twitch and your slit contracts and flutters on nothing, letting the wave of your climax pass on through with every howl. 

The air of the hotel room cools your bodies after disconnecting your sexes off each other, and huffs and pants from heaving figures are evidence of you two trying to find your balance in the world. Sky-blue eyes lock in with yours, and he laughs in faint puffs.

He crawls his way back between your legs after wiping his hand, placing kisses up your neck and chin. “Hahhh, fuck, that felt way too good.”

“Mhmm,” you hum with him, letting him place his head in the crook of your neck. 

“Hey,” he traces a finger along your collarbone. “Wanna skip classes tomorrow?”

Your eyebrows draw upward. “One day of Valentine’s isn’t enough?”

“Nope~. Plus, I wanna make up a week’s worth of not being around you.”

“Pfft, sure,” you stifled a laugh. “But you need a single day to do all that?” 

He lifts his head with a grin. “Well, we don’t have enough clothes to stay here until Saturday.” He maneuvers himself to lie on his side. “Why? You doubt I can do it?”

“You’re free to prove me wrong,” you give him a sneer. “I suggest you start getting to work.” You didn’t expect your words to flip a switch, causing the snow-haired other to grab you by the legs to him. He restrains your hands above your head, and you can’t fight the giggles from his playful manner.

“With pleasure,” he claims your lips again, your sweet murmurs entering his ears.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Psst, oh my God, do you see that?”

“Holy shit, this can’t be real!”

“Woah…Am I in the right universe?”

“Satoru, I told you people would stare…hurry and let go of my hand—“

“Nope! I like where your hand is right now~.”

It was like this the entire day. Ever since your Valentine’s Day date with Gojo, things instantly returned to where they were supposed to be and more! It was amazing how one day could make the bitterness of the weeks prior dissipate with the February wind. There was nothing to be scorned about —nothing to be scared of — everything felt clear to you and the person you were holding hands with.

After that date successfully went well — and won your heart in more ways than one, you’ll admit — you and Gojo decided it was time to unveil the status of your relationship. No more secrets, no more hiding feelings for each other; you two were officially a couple, both in private and outward!

Spending two days alone together felt like a dream, being so close to each other without worrying about being seen and critiqued in the eyes of others. But now, back on campus grounds, you can’t go back on your promise and have to walk with your cheeks and ears burning as Gojo’s fingers tighten the grasp around yours. 

Of course, the change of pace was a complete shock to the students and staff on this Friday. The number of perplexed gazes and starstruck figures who stopped to look at the two of you was too many to count — hell, you even saw Professor Gakunaji’s eyes widen for the first time! It was all so embarrassing, being the talk on everyone’s mind after keeping a low profile for so long. And here you are, holding hands with the star basketball player, the guy everyone knew assumed you couldn’t stand being within arm’s length with, and now, the boy you want to spend the rest of your college life with, Satoru Gojo.

Who, by the way, is loving every single second of this — of course he is, the fucking cheeky bastard! You don’t think you’ve seen his smile and dimples never leave his face for the entire day. He was stuck to you like glue, walking you to your classes and immediately returning to your side after his lectures ended like a happy puppy. He knew you were a little overwhelmed with it all, but that wasn’t a problem because he’d happily make sure you didn’t think you were the only one going through with this. Plus, you just looked so fucking cute looking all bashful around him now that he expresses his love for you publicly. I mean, the way you were in shock after he kissed you on the cheek after walking you to your second class of the day with Utahime? Oh, he wished he had a picture! Especially with your roommate’s jaw dropped to the floor (which never closed throughout the remainder of class as she just stared at you) after seeing the startling, romantic interaction.

And now, here you two go, walking out from your last class of the day with Professor Yaga — who was caught off guard when you two walked in together with a lovey-dovey (mostly on Gojo’s part) atmosphere but gave you a small smile as you walked to your seats (which were changed because Gojo pleaded you sat next to him from now on) as Haibara and Ijichi exchanged cheeky glances at the observation. 

You two were walking down to the dining hall, where you planned to have dinner with Shoko and Geto and tell the two best friends of Satoru Gojo of your intimate relationship. But gosh, everything was going too fast! “Hey, Satoru—“

“Yeeeess~?” He says in a sing-song tune, too pleased with himself as he swings your hand to and fro with his. 

“Do we really have to do this today? Why not eat with Shoko and Geto tomorrow—“

“Huuuh!!? But I’m taking you out tomorrow!” You want to hide your face when passersby hear your boyfriend’s reaction, immediately swapping gossip when they’re out of your vision. “Besides, they’ll be hella busy studying tomorrow at the library, so today was the best option.” 

You nod aimlessly. Ughhh, this is just too much. I feel like my head is gonna implode. Then, you felt Gojo grip your palm tighter and put your walk to a stop, prompting you to look up at him again. 

“Hey,” he says with his signature smile, his dimples becoming more prominent now that you’re gazing up at him. “It’s gonna be okay, alright? I got you, and you got me, right?” And he brings you in for a tight hug that has you squeaking and your lips quivering from hearing people gasp at the display of affection. “And now that I finally have you to myself — officially! — don’t think for a second that you can ever get rid of me!”

On the one side, you really want this fool to let go of you so everyone can stop staring and you can get this dinner over with! And yet, on the other side, your heart was beating in such a tune that had you melt into his embrace, and the smell of his cologne made you hum to his chest. You can’t seem to fight the smile growing on your face and your hands coming around to hug the white-haired, lovestruck fool back. “You’re too silly, Satoru…”

“Uhh, are we interrupting something?” 

With haste, you and Gojo break the hug to see the owner of that familiar voice. To your surprise, it was Shoko greeting you two with a smile. Next to her was Geto, also harboring a sly smile on his face before you. 

You cough to clear your throat away from Gojo, who sneaks his hand on your shoulder to keep you close. “H–Hi Shoko, Geto! I see you guys beat us to the dining hall.“

“Yeah, we were wondering if you two would make it. But now,” Shoko’s brown eyes venture from the figures of Gojo and you being close together, “I can see that you two wanted a bit of time to yourselves.”

“Uhhh, oh, you know; we just wanted to walk together since we had our last class for today!” You try to move your shoulder away from Gojo, but his grasp gets firmer and firmer.

Geto laughs, “Oh, no need to act so shy on us, Y/n! It’s good to know that you two are back to being close and cool now. Especially now that you two are a couple.”

“Ohhh, c’mon now, we’re not—“ you stopped, your body going rigid, and everything suddenly fell silent. “Wait….You knew?”

Geto hums as confirmation. “Yeah? Gojo told me.”

Your face forms into confusion. Gojo?

“Me?” Silver brows hang up at the statement. “I never said anything.”

Shoko makes a slightly bewildered expression. “What are you talking about? Remember that photo that you sent to Geto on Wednesday, and—“

“Woah, woah, woah.” Gojo’s fingers tense on your shoulder. Oh, he knows he’s in trouble. You can tell as he silently removes his hand while you question his best friends. “What picture?”

“Uhhh, the one he sent when you two were out for Valentine’s?” When we WHAT!? “Hold on, lemme pull it up from our messages…Yeah, this one.”

The moment Geto brings out his phone and gives it to you, Gojo felt his heart dropped to his ass. Not that you could tell, but the aura of fear was enough to be picked up. What showed on the screen not only had your jaw drop to your feet, but the cutesy feelings you had a minute ago with Gojo faded. Instead, it was replaced with the growing irritation that had your fingers tremble.

Geto’s phone screen displays a message and an attachment from Gojo on the night of your date. Judging by the time, it happened when you assumed you two were sleeping. The attachment proves your point, showing your sleeping face peacefully on Gojo’s bare chest. And the man in question is shown groggily awake, holding his phone to take the picture while his lips are planted on your forehead. The message below the photo answers Geto’s question, “Yo, you two made up already?” To which the taller figure says, “Yeah, kissed and made up. :3”

“Gojoooo….”

Before you do or say anything, your shaky hands return the phone to its owner, which Geto takes silently while backing three steps away with Shoko. 

“SATORUUUU!!!”

You yell out his name without a care for the people around you who immediately look at you. You turn to where he’s supposed to be — supposedly by your side. But you’re not surprised to see that he’s gone, turning your heel to find that the snowy-headed figure was backing up with his hands up.

“H–Hey now, Y/n,” He says nervously. He better be nervous because your eyes showcased a wrath he wasn’t ready for. “Calm down for me, okay, princess?”

“You…Are so…FucKING DEAD!!!”

And it was there that you chased him down, running around the halls. Geto and Shoko watch with baffled expressions before they scoff with laughter. The same goes with the other students who witness the commotion, enjoying the familiar banter between you two. 

It’s weird to say that you and Gojo are officially a couple now, at least to the public eye. However, no one seems to be in denial of it or push it aside. If anything, they seem happy for you two, finally coming around to express each other’s love for one another in a better way than insults and shouts.

And your friends can say the same, enjoying the change of ambiance whenever you two are in the same space. No more trying to ignore the rambles and arguments between you two, no more tired eyes rolling around their sockets when you call each other names. Because they know those will happen anyway; nonetheless, it’s now in a better light that the banner of young love is finally open and hanged.

 It’s a love that you and Gojo can finally express, be free, and be happy with.

“COME BACK HERE, SATORU GOJO!!”

“NO, YOU’RE JUST GONNA HIT ME!!”

And you two wouldn’t want it any other way. 

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: TOJI

A/N: You’re booked. Busy. Filled to the brim with board meetings. Then your car decides to stop functioning. There’s one mechanic shop open and somehow they seem to only hire God’s sweetest eye candy. One of which keeps getting stuck in the back of your throat. Uh—I mean—

S/N: Toji Mother-Fucking (literally) Fushiguro. Idk why it took me so long to feature this green-eyed monster but I am foaming at the mouth for this AU, him, and his lil vampy co-worker. Toji girlies, can’t WAIT to rush Toji Tau Sigma this fall 🙂‍↕️

C/W: ….he’s his own CW. Mature, 18+. MDNI. 

Art credit: yashaliart_01 on insta

Music: for the love of God if you don’t listen to Obsessed x Mariah Carey I’m calling the coast guard. Reader wants to pretend Toji is not her newest vice so BAD. Ive never laughed so hard and been so painfully turned on writing a piece. SOMEONE tell me not to make this a series RN.

“Can I get a little help here?”

Toji grabs the rag nestled in the back pocket of his heavy work cargos. Charcoal ink stains the fabric. 

Bugatti engines are such a bitch. And make a mess like one too. 

“Hello? Am I talking to a wall or..?”

And just like that, you’ve earned yourself a few more seconds of silence. 

The mechanic’s Evergreen gaze and satisfied smirk peer back at him in the mirror. Not even a second passes before you ensnare him in your fiery scrutiny. 

Ahh, yes. Just his type. 

You are mean. 

With a sexy fucking silhouette. An angry merlot painted on those beautiful, pouted lips. A fresh manicure and keys to your Benz dig into hips that have definitely stopped traffic. 

The mirror image isn’t enough of a bite. Toji needs a real taste, so he turns around to lock eyes with his new favorite unsatisfied customer. 

“Mornin, doll.” 

“Nice of you to grace me with your presence! I was starting to think no one worked here.” 

Melodramatic, the way you narrow your gaze to bring his name tag into focus. It’s hot, though. All this sarcasm and irritation. 

“—Toji? Is it?” You hiss venom. Clearly there’s a point you’re in a hurry to make. 

But..

it’s 7:13 AM on a lovely Monday morning.  Birds are singing. The Red Bull he just downed was particularly delicious. Life is good, right now. 

Toji has all the time in the world. 

He’s in no rush. Especially when a stunning, uptight, bratty little thing — sorry, career woman — like you woke up and chose him to be your personal punching bag. 

And he’s built to take hits. From fists much, much larger than yours, gorgeous.  

“Toji, it is. What can I do for you, darlin?” 

And he knew that sweet, innocent pet name would dump diesel fuel all over those pretty flames. 

You ramble off your full name as if he is going to use it. By the time he’s through with you, you won’t have any use for it either. 

His name, though. You’ll have plenty use for his name. 

“…and when the stupid thing turns on this morning, the dash light won’t turn off.” 

Toji lands on earth just in time to clasp the car keys shoved into his chest. You’re gawking at him. Expecting a fury of motion and urgency. Because your charming little fingers demand it. 

So accustomed to time stopping and starting on your watch, aren’t you? 

“You’re so pretty.” Toji responds with a shit eating grin. 

Just for the huffing and puffing you’re currently displaying. Sputtering about how unprofessional he is. And how much work you have to get done. 

Adorable. 

Toji slips past your disdain and makes his way to the front door. Matte black G-Wagon with a champagne interior. The vision of you behind the wheel, scowling at traffic, in your tailored dress and stilettos makes his cock twitch. 

“She’s a beauty.” He calls from the driver seat. 

“That’s why I bought it. Can you please pick up the pace a little?”

Both arms are folded across your chest, eyes rolling at his wasted breath stating the obvious. 

You’re going to look phenomenal when he has those defiant arms pinned above your head. He’ll diminish those daggers in your eyes to tears. And make those puffy lips whimper for mercy. 

Toji will have you begging him to pick up the pace in no time. Your snarky comment was just a test run. 

The mechanic lets out a low chuckle, his eyes scan the dash for the source of your apparent distress. 

The tire pressure gauge. 

Really, gorgeous? This is why you’re screwed so tightly this morning? 

It should take approximately 3 minutes to fix. But there’s no way Toji is letting you slip away from his skilled fingers so easily. Not when you need to be unwound.

Unraveled bit by bit until you’re a warm, sweet, puddle of manners and gratitude. 

“Alright, babydoll—“

“My name is—“

“I’ll have my guys get to workin on it, sweetheart.” 

He can play this game all day. You scoff. Temporarily placated by his promise of a fix. 

“It’s an all day job, though.” Toji’s right hand man comes into view. 

The only other guy in the shop (on the planet) to get as much play as he does without meaning to. 

Women are insane about his stupid, empty-headed, love-drunk stare. And the purple rings around his eyes like the last time he got sleep was in his mother’s womb. Always giggling and asking about “the hot one with the pigtails” and “the pretty one with the tattoo on his nose.”

If he were a less confident man, Toji would’ve called someone else over. But the kid gets his antics. 

And today is going to be stuffed with them. 

“Choso! Can you take this beauty to the back for repair?” 

Dracula’s first born is sporting his hair down today. Already a bit damp from work. He gives you a once over, then offers a smile that evaporates underwear off of women. 

“Happy to. Which beauty am I taking to the back?”

“Ha, quit your lover boy shit.” Toji teases, and you sneer at his hypocrisy. 

“The car, big guy. Have it ready by 5:00, yeah?”

“5:00 pm?” You do a thing with your hands eventually landing on your hips. And Toji’s dick leaks like a virgin. 

“Well, there must be a courtesy rental. My first meeting starts in an hour.”

“I’m so sorry, miss. We don’t have that.” 

Kamo, you slick fuck. 

Choso apologizes with his signature puppy-eyes and half open mouth. Even you, made of sharp words and soft curves. Goddess of Fire and Ice, you melt under his gaze. 

Toji snickers to himself, while you stutter to a shockingly patient understanding. 

Something about the boy looking half asleep and like he can’t string letters together to spell his own name always does the trick. Leaving you wide open for the kill. 

“Tell you what, sweetheart.” Toji moves in with an assassin’s expertise. 

“Consider me your courtesy rental.”

“I’m sorry—what?” You flicker between the two smiles, rightfully suspicious. 

“I’ll get you from point A to point B, safe and sound.” The mechanic offers again with a broad smile, dangling his own car keys in his hand. 

Pensive eyes drop down to your watch. Board meetings start soon and he is offering a courtesy ride. 

“Fine.” Finally, a little submission. 

“It’s a 10 minute drive. The high rise on the corner of Koen and Mitake street.” 

The financial district. No wonder why you’re so tightly wound. 

“I know exactly, where we are going.” Toji beams. Beating your slender fingers to the passenger door. You barely mutter a ‘thanks’ before settling into the seat. 

You in your heels. And suit jacket. And handbag that costs enough to feed a large family for 6 months. Nestled so perfectly into his passenger seat. Toji can’t help but acknowledge how hard his dick is right now. 

The career woman clearly doesn’t approve of how fast he is hurling down corner streets. But you should understand, no? Places to be, and all that jazz?

“Uh, I’m sorry, where exactly are you taking me?” You perk up. Darting those beautiful warm eyes at the very short building in front of you. 

Not the corner of Koen and Mitake street, but Toji’s favorite coffee shop about 3 blocks over. The only place in the city that can get an Americano right - La Parisian. 

Toji grins maniacally. Pulling his sports car into a front row spot. 

“Point A, darlin.”

“Look, I don’t know what kind of game you are playing but I swear—“

“C’monnn. Lighten up.” He turns to face your incredulous expression. You wear it well, by the way.

“People stand when you walk in a room.” He continues. “They’ll still stand if you’re 5 minutes late and properly caffeinated.” 

Silence. Two huffs. A bitten lower lip. And one long, drawn out sigh.

“Fine. 5 minutes, max. Then I’ve got to get going I have—“

“Meetings baby, I know.” Toji finishes you off. 

He steps out of the driver’s seat fast enough to be at your door before your fingers touch the handle. 

The two of you walk in stride (in Toji’s mind) to the cafe. It’s adorable how you beeline towards the pastry display. Salivating over the various treats. Doing the thing women do, badgering the person manning the register about nutritional details. 

As if your figure wouldn’t make any living red-blooded human being fall to their knees. 

“What can I get started for you?” The barista probes. 

“I’ll have a soy London Fog latte, please.” You flicker over to the dessert you think you’re leaving behind. 

“And?” Toji probes. He taps the glass in front of the vanilla macaroon.

Another crack in the shield. You flash him a genuine smile for 0.04 seconds before turning back to the register.

“…and a vanilla macaroon, please.” You’re cute when you’re sheepish. 

“And I’ll have the largest iced Americano you can make, thanks.” 

Toji closes out the transaction and you two mosey over to a small table by a window. Your shoulders relax with the first sip of coffee. 

A satisfied grin tugs on your chauffeur’s lips. He knew what you needed the second he laid eyes on you. 

Much to your chagrin, and Toji’s delight — conversation flows like a bottomless well between you. The second something warm and another thing sweet landed on your tongue — the shield crumbled down. 

You’re an account executive. 

You work 80+ hour weeks. 

Live in an uppity neighborhood with a Doberman named Rocky. You got him because you like walking around at night to clear your mind. Having a dog taller than you on its hind legs and probably twice your size has eased your anxiety about that. 

You have a mean sweet tooth. 

And you’re single. Have been for the last year or so. 

“And not looking to change that anytime soon.” You reiterate, tossing him a look. 

Toji holds his hands up in feigned defeat. “I wasn’t plannin’ on it, sweetheart.” 

You’ve warmed up to his pet names, albeit against your will. But you’re there. The both of you harmonize light-hearted laughter. Fitting together like missing puzzle pieces.

“Your eyes are so green.” 

A rather obvious observation of your own, after a few moments of comfortable silence. 

As if your eyes don’t bend time. 

Toji catches his breath before responding. 

“They are…your kids could have ‘em too, if you want.” 

You burst into another fit of giggles. Unknowingly driveling rogue pastry on your chin. Babbling on and on about how ridiculous he is. And how cheesy his pick up lines are.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there all high powered and intelligent. With a smile that makes him want to be a better man than he is. 

…and pastry all over your chin. 

Yeah. 

He’s going to marry you one day. 

Toji reaches over and swipes the macaroon off your chin. A sharp gasp tumbles from your lips, staring at his fingers. Which Toji slips into his mouth. 

He’s a betting man and would put money down on the fact that the dessert tastes exponentially better off of your skin. 

“Toji!!” 

“What else can I do for you?” Each word more smug than the last. 

“You could’ve told me I had food on my face!” Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you frown and Toji’s cock throbs to life. 

“Why?” The mechanic shrugs. “I wanted to lick it off instead.” 

The choppy inhale is music to Toji’s ears. You avoid him. Like the plague. Peeling your gaze away and planting it on the side window. Under the guise of people watching. 

But Toji knows better. 

He doesn’t miss the way you struggle to swallow your last bite. Or your thighs coming together so aggressively beneath the small table, rip tides break the surface of his Americano. 

“I felt that, baby.” Toji leans in. Shameless about the way he scans your face. 

Your lips should be outlawed.

The bottom one is marginally fuller than the top, so it naturally hangs a bit open. Inviting the most vile thoughts from his cock. Toji’s rational mind went to sleep the second you climbed into his passenger seat, princess. 

“What?” You sputter, gulping down the rest of your U.K. cloudy cappuccino, or whatever. 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Your voice is steady, but the fidgeting and cagey eye contact hold the truth. 

Oh, really? 

“You’re squirming in your seat.” Toji counters, unblinking. Filling as much of your personal space as he can without tipping over. 

“Quick to cross your legs—“

“Toji!” 

Is your underwear as sticky as your face is flushed? Saliva pools in one direction, warm pre-cum pools in the other. 

“You are so out of—“

“All that talkin’ and you haven’t denied it once, doll.”

Toji’s palm digs into his crotch underneath the table. You are fucking his brain smooth with the raspberry blush along your nose and high cheeks. Sure, the sarcasm and ball-busting is hot, but this? 

The Career Woman suddenly so flustered and shy? 

You’re already thawed out. All he needs to do is dive in. 

Toji blinks back to reality when you rocket up from the table at warped speed. Your fingers clumsily fondle the zipper of your purse. 

“Excuse me for a minute.” You’re halfway to the restroom stalls by the end of your sentence.

The mechanic lasers down to the serpentine curve of your hips. Your plump, perky ass is just begging to be handled. It’s a felony, the way your work dress hugs your body. 

Is he really going to do this?

Heat slams into his groin. Wave after wave of lust slowly chipping at his teetering self-control. 

You might slap him. 

Call him a goddamn pervert. 

…and just the thought of either of those things makes his dick beat against his zipper. 

Fuck it. 

Toji is slick, how he maneuvers his way over to the restrooms. Both single-use stalls occupied, he walks up to you muttering some kind of pep talk to yourself. 

“Get your shit together.” You spit out. 

Amused, Toji leans against the wall behind you. Curious about where this cute little speech is going to go. 

“He’s a rando you met at a mechanic shop. For fuck sake, are you that horny?”

“Sounds like it, baby.” Toji takes the liberty to answer. You whip your head around and crawl out of your skin. 

Eyes wider than a newborn kitten. Mouth gaping as if you’re trying to show off how much you can handle. Toji swallows a groan. He can’t lose control. Not a chance. He has to savor his first taste of you like this. And every taste after that. 

Because, the weather in Hell is a balmy 0 degrees Fahrenheit and you are his, now. 

“I—uh, I—“ Your eyes dart over to the poor soul opening the bathroom door in slow motion. 

You think you’ve found an out, gorgeous?

Toji is faster and bigger than you are. Gripping the handle of the open door, ushering you into his new lair. Still choking on the shock of him catching your admission, you look to your left and right before diving into the empty bathroom. 

“Toji I…” 

Your back hits the wall and eyes settle on your hands. Shifty and nervous. Toji palms himself at the sight of you caged in like this. 

He’s disgusting, he knows that. 

And normally, he would ask permission. Being a gentleman and all. 

But there’s something too alluring about the way you’re trembling right now. The obvious conflict written all over your face, and heaving chest…and tense thighs…

His cock can’t take another second. 

And apparently neither can you. 

Because the second his fingers cup the back of your neck and his breath grazes your mouth you crash into him. Slotting your puffy lips into his, taking him by surprise for a millisecond. 

“Oh, T-toji.” You whine into his mouth. Grasping at his shoulders that are far too wide, far too muscular for your dainty grip.

Fucking, christ. 

Hearing his name like that. 

The gorgeous, high-pitched, pathetic plea trails down his ears to his aching sex and jerks it. If his cargos were any lighter you would’ve seen the pre-pubescent mess he’s making in his pants right now. 

But they aren’t. And you don’t. 

You mewl at how Toji nips at your bottom lip. Sinking it underneath his teeth until its swells to his liking. Melting beneath his large grasp, currently riding the dizzying lines of your hips and ass. 

“You taste fucking good, baby.” Toji mumbles into your warm cavern. Licking along the warm, soft ridges. 

“Ah-T..god.” You pull away and dive into his neck. Attempting to hide your utterly fucked out daze, but he won’t let you. 

Toji palms your ass with a tenth of his strength. You yelp and jump into his arms. He takes advantage of the momentum and lifts you high on his waist. Temporarily forcing you to look down on him.

Glassy eyed. Kiss abused lips. Panting and heaving. Cupping his face like your hands were made to. 

And something tight clenches in Toji’s chest. It takes a moment for him to shake it off, but it existed.

He’ll revisit that later.

“You look good up there, babydoll.” He pants, before setting you down on the sink ledge. He catches your chin in his hand before you turn away. Rooting you in place. 

“I…Toji.” 

Moaning his name like you’re begging for him to start and stop all at once. 

Your eyes descend to his lips. Watching the smirk blossoming across his face. Distracted enough not to notice his free hand shove up your dress in one swift motion. 

Your thighs recognize his authority and melt wide open for him. He kisses your tiny whimpers while nestling between them. 

“Mmmgh g-god please.” 

“This why you were so bratty this mornin baby?” 

Toji’s index and long fingers stroke your soaked, clothed core. Thin lace panties plastered to your warm sex. You wind your hips into his fingers. Batting your eyelashes up at him as if he’s going to give you what you want so easily.

He hovers his lips over yours. Pulling away each time you lunge forward for a kiss. Pouty and frustrated, you dig your nails into his neck and grind along his stationary fingers. 

“T-Toji, please…I’m so..ahh.”

“Needy cunt just wanted some attention, mm?” 

His fingers slip past your opening, and you offer up a soprano moan that shatters to stardust. 

Hedonistic noises fill the spaces between both of your punched out gasps. You’re fucking tight. Gummy, slick walls clamp down around his knuckles when he curves up to pet your pleasure spot. 

The steel pipe between his legs throbs against his thigh. Demanding friction. But one hand is cupping your chin and the other is so pussy drunk an army couldn’t pry his fingers away. 

“T..I—I’m oh fuck I—“

Toji bites down on your bottom lip. And you clench around him. Gushing more of your sweet arousal into his palm. And he damn near laps it up with his greedy tongue. 

“Shhh baby,” he coos against your jaw. 

“Can’t have everyone hearing the Executive getting fucked open by some mechanic’s hands can you?” 

There is a delicious irony in you treating him like a punching bag no more than an hour ago and now bucking your hips on his fingers, chasing an ever elusive high.

Sandpaper lines Toji’s throat. 

He wants nothing more than to bounce you on his cock in this bathroom. Fill you up with his cum and send you to your meetings full of him. 

But you haven’t learned your lesson yet.

“What did I promise baby?” Toji strains in your ear. His hand migrates from your chin to your neck, while his fingers ‘pick up the pace a little.’

His pretty little powerhouse. 

You babble a chorus of nothing. Unable to breathe, unable to think. Only drip. And leak. And squelch around his digits. Toji tightens the grip around your pulse point. Lulling your mouth open.  

“Talk to me, princess. What did I promise you?” He probes again, stealing air from your lungs. 

Tha—y-you would…p—point A.” Barely audible syllables tumble out of you. Ascending in pitch. Your hips reflexively try to pull away from your threatened orgasm.

“Keep going, I’m listenin.” 

“Oh fuck T..Toji?! I-Im c-im gonna—”

“I know, baby.” He smears wet kisses along your jawline. “ I can hear how messy your precious little pussy is. But I didn’t give you permission to stop. Keep going.”

Your walls spasm at his command. Followed by an angelic pitiful little whine. You’re close. So close. 

“P-P-point A to—“

“Point B.” 

Toji finishes your sentence as you reach nirvana. Full body convulsions. He slots his arms around the small of your waist. And it fits like it was molded for him. Like you were sculpted for him.

And he, for you.

The mechanic burns his gaze into your skin. Riding each choppy wave of your ecstasy. Such tiny, sexy sounds. Staccato breaths fanning his lips, his chin, his neck when you try to hide from his scrutiny. 

You are a goddamn dream. 

And his future wife.

Toji guessed it when the macaroon balanced on your chin for a full 30 seconds before he swiped it away and you accused him of defamation of character. 

But now? 

Watching you saddle this stallion of an orgasm. Clawing at his back with all the desperation of a pretty little damsel in distress. 

Distress at just his fingers, alone. 

What intoxicating melody will he unlock when he laps up the honey straight from your core? How will you gasp and moan and squirm when he single-handedly re-shapes your cunt to accommodate his size? 

He has no clue. 

But Toji will spend forever figuring you out. And mastering you.

The back of your neck fits beautifully into his grasp as he coaxes you from hiding. Pupils blown out. Cheeks flushed and warm. Tendrils matted along your forehead. Before he can speak, you beat him to the punch.

Of course you do. 

“I’ve decided,” You pant. The baseline spice returning to your grin. 

“That you might just be obsessed with me, Toji.” 

Both of you share a hushed laugh. Exchanging cotton candy breaths. But then his lips accidentally brush yours and Toji can’t help but dive in for a kiss. Fucking the warm cavern of your mouth with his tongue. 

You pull away before he’s ready, with a look on your face that makes him feel like a God. 

“I might be.” Toji whispers, partially against his will. His lips find the corner of your mouth. Careful to avoid falling victim to your pout again.

“Let’s get you to the other point B, baby.” 

The car ride to your office could make anyone queasy. 

Constant banter back and forth. Full bodied laughs. You mindlessly stroking his forearm with those angelic fingers riling his cock up as if it just now discovered women. 

You let out a small sigh, with slightly dropped shoulders when your office building comes into view. Toji doesn’t know how to interpret it. But for him? Reality is coming too quickly.

“So,” You start once the both of you are out of the car. Pretty face tilting up and Toji’s dick strains against its confines.

“What do I owe you, Mr. Fushiguro?” 

The way you say his name.

It takes the will of God for Toji to bite back his original response.

“Nothin, doll.” He’s wearing the same, dumb, love-struck face Choso wears on a daily basis. Shockingly, Toji couldn’t care less. 

“The tires just needed air. Choso will drop it off in an hour.” 

He would do it himself. But the urge to park in an empty lot and abuse the fuck out of his cock until a shred of clarity re-settles in his mind is a tad bit overwhelming, sweetheart.

Then your mouth drops in an incredulous ‘Oh’ and all Toji can picture is ruining the back of your throat. How pretty you are going to be wretching around his girth. Gasping for air. Choking on his cum. 

“Toji. Fushiguro.” You like using his name, don’t you?

“You held me hostage for a whole morning for some air—“

Toji kisses the rest of your complaints off your tongue. And you whine. Slot open for him with no resistance. Because under all that irritation and sarcasm, buried within the Trojan Horse, lays your supple, delectable submission. 

And he will take every opportunity to taste it. 

“I had a great time on our first date, babydoll.” Toji rasps against your swollen lips. 

The raging erection is threatening to embarrass him. There’s not enough restraint in the world to be around you any longer. Toji nestles your voice in his back pocket. The two of you watch each other with wordless, taken aback smiles as he takes slow steps toward his sports car.

Before the mechanic sinks into the driver’s seat, he makes a promise.

“Can’t wait for our second date, Mrs. Fushiguro!”