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lol-im-done · 5 months ago

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Overactive Empathy

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Nurse!Reader

Summary: A story of an ex-army doctor still haunted by his past who strives to maintain control of his emotions and a nurse with a sixth sense for the emotions of others that everyone has come to rely on- will a traumatic event force them to confront their true feelings for each other or pull them apart forever?

Tags/Warnings: age gap, yearning, too scared to admit they're in love, empath!reader, angst, panic attacks, comfort, descriptions of blood and pittfest, trauma, happy ending

Word Count: 4.3K & AO3 link

Author’s Note: This may not be everyone’s cup of tea but I could not stop thinking about writing this. I also have absolutely no medical knowledge so enjoy!

The Pitt - Night Shift

The faint beeping of monitors and clicks of the keyboard mesh with the sounds of patients and staff. The fluorescent lights aren’t the only thing landing on your skin, you feel his stare from chairs away. It doesn’t make you uncomfortable, quite the opposite, it sends a warm feeling rushing through you and when you peek up you catch sight of his silver curls twinkling in the light.

Dr. Jack Abbott can’t help it, after two years of working alongside you he doesn’t get tired of tracing the slope of your nose or watching the way you bite your lip in concentration. He stopped trying to be discreet a long time ago even after repeatedly being caught by Dr. Robby or Dr. Ellis. You’re both snapped out of your thoughts by the sirens approaching the ambulance bay. By the time the EMTs enter the Pitt you’re standing next to Jack at the ready.

“Man in his late sixties- disoriented and aggressive. He was distributing patrons outside of a nightclub and eventually someone knocked him down,” the EMT summarized as they wheeled in the man who was strapped down to the gurney. He wasn’t saying anything comprehensible, only letting out grunts as he attempted to free himself.

“Psych eval?” Jack tilts his head.

“Yup, no ID or other identification found with him. Probably homeless and off his meds,” the EMT replied.

“Give me a moment with him,” you step forward, not entirely convinced. Jack’s eyes narrow slightly at the patient who began to twist in his restraints again. Unease grows in his gut but he learned a long time ago not to question you.

“Don’t get too close to him yet, we may need sedation.”

He stands at the door watching the interaction closely, his body taut in preparation to intervene. The soldier inside him never left him, those instincts embedded into his bones.

Slowly you approach the older man, quietly assessing him. Jack watches your hand hover over the patient’s arm for a moment, but what you do is still a mystery to him.

Eventually it becomes clear to you what he needs. “You must be very tired and thirsty. It’s been a long day,” you murmur softly. This made the man go still, eyes widening as he nodded urgently. He was mute, everything he wanted to say stuck inside him at this moment but his emotions were clear.

“We’re here to help you,” you give him a reassuring smile as you back away towards the door. The moment you turn, you’re face to face with Jack. You force yourself to stay concentrated on your task and not on Jack’s handsome features. “He’s not homeless, he feels lost and he misses home. He’s also extremely thirsty, so he’s dehydrated which is why he was disoriented and acting out. He wasn’t able to ask for help because he’s mute,” you explain.

“Not a Psych case then,” he concurs, impressed once more.

“The usual tests will let us know how dehydrated he is and if there’s other underlying causes. This is a case for the night shift social worker to help with, they just need to find out who he is and where he lives. I think he has family,” you reach for the IV kit.

“Thanks Sherlock Holmes.”

There’s no malice or sarcasm in his tone, just his usual dry wit which you’ve come to love. You can see the wheels turning in his head and although he’s never asked questions, you know he keeps trying to figure out how you’re so good at reading patients.

Intuition, your grandmother winked at you one day when you asked if she had what you had. A curse, your mother declared before she had left for good, not able to handle what she was born with. Overactive empathy was what you had come to call it. It had been overwhelming at first, discovering that as you got in close proximity to someone you could identify their emotions and feel them yourself, all of them. It took many years to build up your control to a point where you felt you could be around people. Out of nursing school you spent your first few years in hospice care, holding the hand of those making their way out of this world, watching the hazy colors around them fade into nothing. Soon the time came to try something new and you found yourself standing in the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center Emergency Department, hoping to make a difference and make use of your ability in a new way.

It was an open secret, the little trick you had up your sleeve. No one put a specific label on it and on one questioned it. Anytime you interacted with a patient who needed that extra level of support, with a simple glance or press of your hand to their shoulder you seemed to read their emotions to a tee. It had also helped de-escalate potentially dangerous situations, preventing many fights in the halls of the Pitt. In this world, it was all about the patient and being able to read them was an asset. Their feelings and experiences are half of the story when they walk in through the doors.

Grabbing your backpack from your locker you take your time walking back to the nursing station to clock out. It gives you time to admire Jack who stands at the counter, his blue eyes flickering across the screen. Dr. Abbot - the broody, stalwart and incredibly selfless man who captured your heart. Not that you would ever admit it, you were years younger and convinced he could do much better. What catches your attention is his posture, he’s leaning heavily against the counter hoping no one can notice his discomfort.

“Is it bothering you again?” you whisper as you stand next to him. Jack grimaces as he flexes the prosthetic foot under his khakis, internally kicking himself for showing a trace of weakness.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he grits out.

“Liar,” you muse, swiping your badge to clock out for the night.

His face turns stoic as he stares you down, intimidating as hell to others but not to you. You stare right back, waiting until one of you inevitably cracks. His dimples pop out as he lets out a hearty laugh. Several people send you curious looks, an Abbot laugh was rare.

“It's not fair if you use that trick on me,” he pretends to sound mad. Not that you would ever intentionally violate his privacy by delving further than his surface area emotions.

“It’s not like I can read minds.”

“It’s close enough.”

“I don’t have to use anything on you Abbot. It's clear as day.”

He feels that familiar swoop in his stomach at your words, forcing himself to not say anything stupid.

“Will you be here tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here, just in case you pick up another shift,” you tease, finally starting to walk away. He winks at you and you feel like you’re floating on clouds all the way home.

The Pitt - Day Shift

Today was a never ending roller coaster and it was going to give you whiplash. Angry patients, argumentative family members, interpersonal drama, fucking rats. Then Dana had gotten punched, which had rattled all of the nurses. It had brought you to tears seeing her bruised face and bloody nose, your mentor and dear friend. She had shushed you in a motherly fashion, assuring you and everyone else she would live long enough to finish the shift as long as she had another cigarette.

It was also the first day for new residents and medical students, another layer to the never ending day. You took it in stride as always offering helpful advice and keeping an eye on them for Robby making sure they didn’t mess up too badly. Some had already latched onto you, King and Whittaker frequently asking you to join them on patient care.

You could immediately sense that today was an off day for Robby, as you assisted with his difficult cases you could see the strain behind his eyes and his increasing use of the word fuck. He also kept asking you about what the patients were feeling long after they had died. It wasn’t a good sign.

“Is he asking you about dead people again?” Dana hands you a cup of tea. You nod.

“Christ Almighty he’s a morbid one,” she shakes her head with a sad smile. “Wish Collins hadn’t left early, she knows how to get him back on track.”

....

“Do you think he feels anything? Even if he’s brain dead?” Robby asked you as you stood side by side, about to enter to give the parents of the overdose victim the final verdict on their son.

“No...he doesn’t feel anything. There’s nothing,” you replied truthfully.

“What do you think she felt while she drowned?” he asked as they wheeled the young girl's body out of the trauma room. You think back to when you had held onto her tiny cold hand as they worked to bring her back.

“She felt scared and exhausted but she also felt certain. Certain that she had saved her sister.”

Robby finds comfort in your candidness to his morbid questions, you’ve always been honest with him and a shoulder for him to lean on. He knew he was being extra hard on you today and he would apologize with your favorite snack by the end of the shift.

None of this compared to what came next.

“What’s going on?” you can feel the anxiety spike in the room as phones and pagers go off. Gloria is talking to Robby and Dana on the side in a serious manner, their faces pinching with worry. Shooting, Pittfest, mass casualties, are words that fill the air. It seems to suck the oxygen out of the room, a sobering reminder of the world you lived in. Taking a deep breath you steady your nerves as instructions are being shared to the whole team. Suddenly a familiar warmth settles next to you, calloused hands brushing against yours.

“You okay?” Jack asks quietly.

“I’m fine...but all of those people that are going to come in-,” you shudder at the thought.

“You don’t have to, you know, get too close to them if it gets too much,” he finally faces you as people start to rush around you. With his eyes trained on you it feels like you’re both in your own world for a moment.

“I know, but I want to help them. Anyway I can,” you reply, eyes filling with determination. It reminds him why he does this job, why he comes back.

Reality breaks apart your bubble as Dana calls out your name and Robby pulls Jack towards the team of doctors. Everything after that is a whirlwind, a mass casualty event hitting an already understaffed ED like a hurricane. Every ounce of training is in use as you work tirelessly alongside your colleagues to save every life that passed through those doors. It soon becomes clear there's not enough blood, medications or supplies. Only sheer willpower will get you all through this.

“Everyone please use the sedatives and morphine sparingly! More is coming but it's minutes out!” Dana shouted from the nurses station.

Following her announcement, a flurry of movement caught your attention in the Red Zone. The patient was thrashing on the gurney, arms flying around wildly as she shouted in pain, begging them to stop from pressing against her broken legs. Without hesitation you rushed over, hands slipping into the fray until they pressed against the woman’s face. Jack watched as you brought your head closely against hers, eyes scrunching tightly in concentration.

“You feel tired, so tired,” you repeated softly over and over again.

Slowly her shouts became nothing but disgruntled murmurs, her eyes closing and arms falling sluggishly at her side. No one else seemed to notice what you had done, preoccupied with her impending blood loss and shattered bones. Jack could do nothing more than send you a grateful nod before you slipped away once more to assist on the next patient.

Unfortunately she had not been the last patient you had helped calm down, dozens more streamed into the Pitt in various states of emotional distress and you did your best to keep them from overwhelming the rest of the staff. It was starting to wear you down, drain your energy reserves as you still ran from zone to zone, arms full of supplies and bags of blood. Dry blood mixed with your sweat caked your arms, and your lungs burned from the smell of antiseptic and alcohol in the air. Give me strength, you begged the universe.

You had been standing by the ambulance bay doors, replenishing supplies for the Red Zone when another wave of gurneys and patients flooded in once more. You hadn’t even had a chance to set down the IV bags in your hands when a tall man stumbled straight into your body. Blood stained hands clasped onto your shoulders with such force you could feel the bruises start to form. His eyes were wild and he kept repeating someone's name over and over. Time seemed to slow around you as his emotions flowed into your body like a dam had broken- hair raising panic, paralyzing fear, and pain that brought you to your knees. Your vision swam, all you could see now was bodies piled upon each other and hear the cries of those hit by the spray of bullets. A high pitched ringing filled your ears and your throat was suddenly raw.

Your ear splitting screams snapped Jack out of his concentration, his heart lurching at the scene before him. He barely had time to make sure Dr. Mohan had a handle on the patient before he was running full speed towards you, Robby at his side. The man was ripped away from you by Robby and one of the security guards who wrangled him onto a gurney. All you could do was cover your eyes as if that would stop the horrific visions in your head.

“Look at me, you gotta breathe (Y/N),” Jack begged as he stood in front of you, hands hovering over your shoulders not wanting to make it worse. His heart was beating a million miles per minute and he felt as if he was staring in the mirror, the traumatized medic in the throes of a panic attack staring back at him. Except now it was you.

You shook your head, stumbling backwards blindly into the wall. There was only one option he could think of at that moment. Without missing a beat, Jack grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you over his shoulder as you let out another desperate cry. The whole Pitt had frozen, shocked at the turn of events.

“Get back to work dammit!” Jack roared, making everyone flinch as they rushed to return back to the task at hand, averting their eyes.

In a few strides he made it to the end of the wing and into the empty on-call bathroom, slamming the door behind him with his foot. By this point you had gone limp over his shoulder, letting out the occasional whimper. He set you down lightly onto the shower floor, hand reaching up to the shower knob.

“I’m sorry baby but it will help I promise,” Jack couldn’t stop the term of endearment from slipping out.

You seemed to be stuck in some sort of trance, another agonizing scream slipping past your lips as you hunched over. Suddenly ice cold water flowed from the shower head hitting your body in a forceful gush. A high pitched gasp filled the air as your eyes flew open from the shock. Shivering hands immediately reached out to find Jack’s arms, needing something to ground you as the temperature of the water numbed your frayed nerves.

“Jack.”

“You’re safe, you’re in the bathroom now. You’re not there,” he assured you, hand smoothing your drenched hair out of your face. Tears swam in your eyes and you nodded numbly, trying to reorient yourself. His hand settled on your cheek, watching the water pour down your red cheeks. Even now, he thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He was only a few short seconds away from climbing into the shower with you when the door squeaked open.

“Dr. Abbot, they need you out there,” Princess frowns as she takes in your state. He gives her his harshest stare, about to protest but you push his arms weakly.

“Go,” you say. “Princess and I will handle it from here,” you look up at her. She gives a nod of affirmation.

“I’ll get her cleaned up, Dr. Abbot,” she promises, reaching for towels.

I need to stay with you and protect you, he wants to say to you. I can’t live another moment without you.

So many unsaid words stuck in his throat. Jack wishes you would just look into him and decipher his emotions so he wouldn’t have to say them out loud. It wasn’t the right time, it never was. He couldn’t stand risking everything you had just to lose you if you didn’t feel the same way. Instead of staying as his heart begged him to, he stands, ignoring the pain in his leg as he walks out without a word feeling like a coward.

Your heart squeezes painfully as you watch Jack go but you can’t stop him. By the time Princess helps you change into clean scrubs it feels like hours have passed. She stays silent the whole time, giving you space as you rebuild the mental blocks in your head. Eventually you walk out onto the floor which is still wet with blood, doctors and nurses running to and fro with urgency. Sirens blare in the distance without stopping. Smoothing your hands over your new scrubs you hoped you looked better than you felt.

“Go home,” Robby’s baritone voice is the first thing you hear.

“I don’t believe you can send me home Dr. Robby,” you glance up at him. He looks absolutely wrecked, likely the same as you.

“Dana-,” he turns to Dana who is by your side next. Dana knows you well, knows you wouldn't be standing here if you couldn’t handle it.

“I can’t force her to leave Robby. Trust that she knows her own limits,” Dana squeezes your hand. You squeeze it back in thanks. “We still have patients to help, let’s go kiddo,” she guides you back into the disaster zone, arm over your shoulder.

It’s when the emergency protocol is finally at an end and the last Pittfest patient is stabilized that you spot Robby again. Robby had been walking on a tight line today, Leah’s death finally pushing him over the edge. You had heard the terrible things Jake had yelled at him moments ago.

“Hard day yeah?”

“For both of us I’d say,” he laughs dryly, tears beginning to leak once again from the corners of his eyes.

“You’ve shouldered the burden of so much today Robby. Let me help you,” you extend your hand to him.

“I can’t do that to you,” he shakes his head, knowing what you’re offering.

“This may be the only time I offer this to you Robby. Trust me,” you say. He shifts uneasily in place before finally making his decision. He takes your hand. The colors around him darken, his frustration, grief, anger and disappointment swirling around him like a storm.

“Go home soon and sleep. It will come easy tonight,” you say. Robby feels a warm sensation run up his arm, filling his chest with a lightness he hadn’t felt in years. The tension in his shoulders visibly eases and he feels like he can properly breathe again. Before he can thank you, you’re gone.

You hand found a quiet space in the supply closet to unwind, taking advantage of the day shift and night shift switching places. Sitting in the dim room you allow the events of the day to wash over you, taking steadying breaths to settle your emotions. Then you would find Jack and hope he didn’t look at you differently like you were something that had been crushed into tiny pieces.

You hadn’t left Jack’s mind since he had left you in the shower, your screams echoing in his mind. Compartmentalizing all of his emotions and stuffing them into the back of his mind was the only thing that kept him sane for the remaining shift. The moment he finally handed off the last patient to Shen and Ellis he was on the lookout for you. Unable to find you yet, Jack makes his way up to the roof as he does after most shifts, muscle memory taking over. He’s not surprised to see Robby staring at the city skyline from the ledge.

“I think I finally understand why I keep coming back now,” Jack calls out to Robby. “It's in our DNA. It's what we do. We can't help it. Not everyone can do it, it takes a special type of person,” he says, thinking of you.

“Maybe you, not me,” Robby shakes his head as he steps back onto the roof.

“What are you talking about?” Jack’s tone is incredulous.

“You know damn well what I'm talking about. I broke. I shut down. At the moment everybody needed me the most, I wasn't there. I couldn't do it. I choked,” Robby hangs his head.

“Don’t say that you broke in there because if that was you breaking apart then that means (Y/N)-,” he stops himself, unable to finish the sentence. “You’re not broken, you’re just human. We all are.”

Robby sighs. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You’re stronger than you think. She’s stronger than she thinks. Just because you both got overwhelmed today doesn’t mean you’re broken, not even close,” Jack says. “I used to think there was a weakness in feeling too much. Never allowed myself to cry or grieve even when-,” he pauses thinking back to his time after he came back from the army, what had happened to his ex wife and her untimely death years ago.

“This is starting to sound less like a pep talk and more like you need to go find her,” Robby crosses his arms. Jack remains silent, running his hand through his messy curls as he paces back and forth.

“What are you going to do Jack? It’s been months of you pining after her. We all saw it on that karaoke night-.”

“Don’t even,” Jack scowls at the memory which makes Robby laugh for the first time tonight.

You had been singing alongside Dana and McKay, your smile infectious as you swayed your hips to the beat. Jack had scoffed at the idea of karaoke night with the team but seeing you up there, he was entranced by the lights making your skin shimmer, your smudged lipstick and sweet voice. The only thing that snapped him out of it was watching a young guy approach you with a shot and a flirtatious grin. It had taken both Robby and Shen to hold him back, dragging him back to the booth by the scruff of his neck.

There wasn’t anything more to say so they descended back down to reality, one step at a time. By the time he and Robby exit the Pitt doors, there was only one thing on Jack’s mind.

“You gonna grab a beer with us?” Robby asks as they cross the street but he already knows the answer.

“I have to do something first. Something long overdue,” Jack stations himself at the entrance of the park.

“Fucking finally,” Robby claps his shoulder. “Tell her I said goodnight.”

“I heard you’ve been asking her about dead people again, not cool man!”

“Sorry! Sorry, I’ll make an effort to stop that,” Robby throws his hands up before disappearing into the park.

Jack steels himself in place, waiting and praying he hadn’t missed you. His instincts were correct as usual, you soon appeared before him with a tired smile gracing your lips, backpack hanging off your hand. For a moment the only sound is the wind rustling through the trees. Slowly he takes measured steps closer to you, until he can see the small scar on your top lip. You take the moment to admire the freckles that adorn his nose and cheeks. You were nervous seconds ago, but not anymore.

Finally Jack speaks. “You wanna know what I see when I look at you?” he whispers, his strong hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I see the woman that I love, who makes me want to live life, not just survive it. I see a woman with the endless capacity to help others, the strongest person I know.”

“I- you saw what happened to me today. It may not always be easy,” your voice is thick with emotion.

“You know me better than anyone, it won’t be easy with me either, but we have each other.”

“That’s all I need - you.”

Lifting yourself on your tiptoes you press your nose to his, your lips hovering over one another. Electricity crackles between you, months of yearning and unspoken tension threatening to break free. His muscular arm wraps around your waist, tethering you to him.

“Come home with me, where you belong.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you whisper.

Then something blooms in his chest, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time - hope. You can see the fuzzy color around him lighten into a beautiful blue color, like the sky on a sunny day.

“Feel it with me?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, letting the mental blocks down momentarily. The moments your lips touch bursts of colors fill your mind and you feel it all. His love encompasses you, his hope for the future with you and passion makes your skin tingle.

“I love you Jack Abbot.”

“I love you more."

#jack abbot #dr. jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot imagine #the pitt fanfiction #shawn hatosy #dr. jack abbot

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floretteluv · 3 months ago

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SLEIGHT OF HANDS ⊹₊⟡⋆ h. haddock x reader

summary : knowing close-up magic, you always watched your boyfriend be amazed at all the enthralling tricks you showed him—with him showing you how dumbfounded he was, and asking you how you did it, acting all unknowing. But little did you know, Hiccup did have a trick up his sleeve.

word count : 3.06k words

tags : rtte!hiccup, fem!reader, magician!reader, idiots in love, love confession, fluff, chaste kisses, unrealistic wording and description of sleight of hand/magic, no use of y/n or (name)

author's note : yes i'm gonna be using hiccups confession when he gave astrid the bethrothal gift because i cannot let it out of my head (´ 3｀) bro ive been watching videos on how sleight of hand and close up magic is done and i was like—that sounds like a good fic. . . why don't i write it? i have free will anyways lols :p anyway enjoy this read im very sleep deprived ahdjajdasl

"Hey, do you uh— know where one of my Dragon Trivia Cards are?" Fishlegs timid voice was heard as walked into your hut, peeking in first before fully going in. He was fanning through the cards he currently had in his possesion, looking at each one thoroughly to see if maybe he accidentally just missed it.

You stood up from your hut's dining chair and turned around, finishing putting your shoes on and walking closer to the Ingerman.

"It's the one for the Gronckle, it's me and Meatlug's favorite, so if you see it anywhere—" Fishlegs started to talk faster, panic filling his veins.

"Oh, you mean this?" You flipped your hand quickly, the exact Dragon Trivia Card he was talking about appearing in your hand, which made him sigh in relief.

"You left it on the table last night at the Great Hall," You finished, while he looked astonished.

"Oh! Thank you. . .!" You put your hand out, and he took the card, examining it, putting it into light and turning it around to observe it.

"I still don't know how you do that," He commented, looking at the card and then at the hand you used to make it appear.

And you walked past him, before stopping at the door and over your shoulder to say three words that explains it.

"It's just magic." You shrug, a grin on your face as you speak. He started to follow you outside, seemingly to go back to his hut.

"Yeah— whatever," Fishlegs dismisses the topic, knowing he won't get anywhere if he pries any more.

"Where are you going anyway?" The Ingerman asked, while you replied in a curt manner.

"Hiccup said he needed to give me. . . Something, I dunno. . ." You replied nonchalantly.

"Oh," The blond Viking said unelated, with a few seconds of silence covering your conversation, until he suddenly spoke again, startling you.

"Ohhh!" He loudly exclaimed, a cheeky smile hinting at his face. You jolted a little from how loud he sounded.

"So, based on your reaction, I'm gonna assume it's something good. . .?" You were nearing Fishleg's hut, which meant this was probably going to be your last dialogue with him until you see him later.

"Let's just say it's. . . A surprise of some sort," He vaguely answered, and you had made it to the front of his home.

You both waved each other goodbye, with you walking past his hut to surge onto Hiccup's hut.

You were almost there, until The Twins had practically jumped you, asking if you could show them another magic trick.

"C'monnn, what you did last time was really awesome," Ruffnut pleaded. They were walking with you now, not that you disliked it—you were happy you were seeing alot of them today.

"Do the one where you switch the chains you were wearing and put them on Tuffnut! Or the one where a Terrible Terror appears from Snotlout's helmet," She cheered, grabbing your arm excitedly.

"Y'know, I don't think Tuffnut would really enjoy that, and Snotlout isn't here for me to do it. . ." You awkwardly shrug, not wanting to put one of the twins into a fit of being distressed again.

"As much as I had 3 days of trouble getting out of those chains, it was worth it seeing you do that." He defended himself, as if sacrificing his freedom again.

"Yeah, last time you did it, he had to scratch his butt with his—"

"O—kay, I don't need to know that," You put a hand up to stop her talking any more.

Ever since you were a kid, you were taught by your father how to do magic tricks, or more specifically—sleight of hand.

What he did teach you wasn't that much of the spectacular, showstopping actions; He taught you the basics, such as making cards appear into your hands suddenly and making coins appear from your ear out of thin air, but that was about it.

All this weird stuff they were asking you to do—like making chains attached from your wrist go to another person, and making small dragons appear from helmets were all your doing, coming from your own practice. You could say you were starting to become a magician, one might surmise.

But right now, you really needed to make it to Hiccup's hut. He sounded like he really needed you to be there right now, it sounded urgent when he said to go to his room today.

So now, the best you could do to send the Twins off your tail, with nothing in your disposal at all, was either to: A.) run away and disguise it like a magic trick, or B.) wait for Snotlout to unceremoniously arrive.

I think we're going to settle with A if we want to get to Hiccup's as fast as possible.

"How about I show you— a new trick?" you tore Ruffnut's grip on your arm and placed her next to her twin brother.

"When you guys turn around and say 'Yaknog' at the same time with your eyes closed, you'll make me dissapear. Cool, right?" You finished. They both looked at each other for a second and smiled deviously.

Once they had both turned around, you made the most silent run for it, the other Vikings seeing you scamper off until you were nowhere in their vicinity.

"Ready?" Tuffnut asked.

"Ready. 3, 2, 1. . ." They closed their eyes and balled their fists.

"Yaknog!" They yelled out at the same time, they opened their eyes, then cautiously looked behind them, where you were nowhere to be seen.

"Woah. . ." Ruffnut smiled in a goofy manner, looking around to see any trace of you, but nope. No sign of you anywhere.

"It's like she was never there," Tuffnut put his hand on the place where you previously where and waved around, as if he'd find out you were invisible of some sort.

They both paused what they were doing and looked at each other, proceeding to hit their helmets with one another.

"Awesome!"

You almost hit your face on the door if you didn't stop yourself with how fast you were going, knocking a good three times.

You put your hands on your knees in momentary exhaustion before dusting yourself off and standing straight, waiting for your boyfriend to open the door.

But much to your surprise, the person that opened the door to welcome you was not Hiccup, no, but his broad-shouldered Chief of a father, Stoick.

He greeted your name with a smile which you mirrored back, slightly shocked you were here.

"What are you doing here?" Stoick asked politely.

"Hiccup was actually going to give me uh— something," You gently replied, a tight smile on your face.

Stoick looked to be in thought for a moment, until something he was thinking of clicked, and he expressed his joy.

"Oh. . . Oh— I get it," His voice crooned, and it made you slightly feel odd. Even under all that hair on his face, you could still see a satisfied smile grace his face.

"You— you do. . .?" You inquired with a tilt to your tone, with Stoick coming up to you, walking past you, but not before grabbing your shoulder to reassure you.

You felt a sense of déjà vu, Fishlegs already gave you that response earlier.

"It's gonna be fine, don't worry too much about it," He walked off, seemingly to do his rounds and some Chiefing around the village.

You walk into the hut, and the smell of firewood hits your ears. The crackling sparks from the hearth warm the interior, with you looking around the first floor for a moment.

You've been in here dozens of times, but the comfort and warmth of their home always made you relax.

You walk up the wood staircase, and you see Hiccup on his table, twisting his charcoal pencil in boredom, looking at a sketch on his notebook of a random dragon.

He heard the nearing thump! of your steps, and looked at you at the entrance of his room.

"Hey," The brunet Viking said in surprise, a gentle smile growing on his face.

"Hello to you too," You walked around him, kissing his head caringly as you sit next to him, dragging a stray chair next to him.

You put your elbows on the table, leaning to take a peek at his face.

"What are you looking at?" You inquired.

He closed his notebook, then turned his body to you, so he can look at you better.

"Uh— nothing much, I was just waiting for you," His full attention was on you, and you smiled at him in amusement.

"Really?" You asked, but you already knew the answer.

"Yeah, and now you're here, so I can start," He started to adjust himself in his seat, and you were kind of perplexed.

"Uh. . . Start what, exactly?"

"Give me your hand," He ordered you softly, and you obeyed—putting your palm out for him to grab, and he closed it up to ball your fist.

"Wait. . ." You understand now what he was doing, given that you've done this magic trick dozens of times for the children in the village.

Your smile grew in excitement as you watch him ready the magic trick.

"I'm gonna make my something appear in your hand, okay?" He explained, looking into your eyes cheekily with affection.

Although you've heard yourself say what he instructs you to do a multitude of times, you still follow his orders, while you look elatedly as he almost finishes.

"Okay, once I snap my fingers, it'll appear. You ready?"

"Just do it, already," You smile, excited at what's to come.

He snapped his fingers together, and he lets go of your hand still balled into a fist. He looks at you in glee, waiting for you to open your palm.

You hesitantly sprawl your palm out, and to your surprise, his gift isn't there.

"Huh, I could've sworn it would be there," Hiccup's voice sounded defeated, and scratched his head, in confusion.

Not wanting him to look so upset, you grab his shoulders and scooch your chair so your knees were in between one another's.

"Hey, it was a good try babe," You comforted him, rubbing your hands up and down his arms.

"I was pretty intrigued." You added.

"Thanks, but I think if it would cooler if it did appear, I just don't know where it went— wait," His head was slightly tilted down, until he lifted in up in some kind of realization.

"What is it?" You ask, your actions pausing to look at his perplexed expression, as if his head was starting to turn its cogs.

"I think I know where I put it," He smiles, rejoiced.

"It was right behind here. . .!" His arm lifted close next to your head, and your eyes followed his movements.

What you didn't expect next was for a coin to be pulled out behind your ear by Hiccup. Consequently, your mouth went slack jawed in awe, before composing yourself and smiling, your hands slightly patting your lap in elation. It was a simple sleight of hand trick, yes—but still, it made you merry.

"You learned!" You cheer at him, looking at him in disbelief, punching his shoulder playfully.

"I wanted to surprise you." He replied smoothly, carding the coin between his fingers before holding it between his thumb and pointer finger so you could see it clearly.

It was a slightly large coin, with a leather cord tethered to it, creating a loop for a necklace.

"So, what is it?" You ask in curiosity.

"Well, this was my Dad's betrothal gift to my mother," He held it up by its leather rope, the coin slightly swaying from motion.

"Hiccup," You gasp softly, before Hiccup put the necklace over your head, lowering your head slightly to help him. He placed it around your neck, lowering his arms after.

You clutch it in both your hands, looking at it dearly, before he put his own hands over yours, covering them.

"And— uhm, he gave it to me, to give to you." He finished. You smiled at his confession, but something in the pit of your stomach had faltered your joy.

He gave you his father's betrothal gift, an heirloom passed on to him, to be held onto until given to the person he cherished—which was you, to show you how much he loves you, but. . .

You didn't get him anything.

It ate at you, the swirling pool of guilt building in your chest until your smile was fully etched off your face, lowering your gaze slightly so Hiccup couldn't see it.

He called your name, instinctually making you look into his eyes, his eyes showing vulnerability.

"You're a part of our family," Hiccup said with unwavering assurance, and no matter how upset you were, it made you smile.

"You always have been, and," He looked shy to say the next words, but her says it anyways.

"I hope you always will be." He ended, his hands letting go of yours—and you smiled in adoration, but the fluttering beating of your heart didn't overcome the swirling feeling of shame and guilt in your stomach, making your smile falter.

"Hiccup, it's— I don't. . ." You struggled to convey your feelings, looking away from him, making Hiccup nervous.

Did he say something wrong? Was it too fast? Did you not like it?

"Uhhh. . . Okay— well, if you don't like it," He leaned back, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"No. . .! No, Hiccup— I love it," You sputtered looking at him in panic, you didn't want him to think that, especially when it was the most beautiful thing you've ever been gifted.

"Eh, you do?"

"I do, it's perfect, I just—" You sigh in defeat, letting your arms fall to your sides.

"I didn't get you anything," You shrug. Your voice was meek, looking away in disgrace. With your confession, Hiccup's tense demeanor softened into something of understanding.

"If I had known— Hiccup, I would've gifted you something great too. . ." You trailed off, not wanting to say anymore, you felt more embarrassed trying to explain yourself, it'd be better off just keeping your mouth shut.

"But you did," Hiccup said, making you pause and look up at him, wary.

"I. . . I did?" You reply, still confused.

"Yes, you got me the best gift in the world—" His voice was true, as if he was sure of all of what he said as he grabbed your hands together with his, making you stare up at his viridescent gaze.

"You," He answered, and all of the reluctance, the guilt of it all washed away, as if his voice was the cure for your looming doubts.

"You—just being here, with me," His soft, yet calloused hands brought your hands to his chest in adoration, making your arms jump out and hug him.

"Is that only gift I need." He muttered into your neck, making you smile at the feeling.

"Hiccup," You pull away to see his lovestruck eyes looking into yours.

"Thank you," You cup the side of his face with one hand, his smile growing.

You quickly kiss his lips, looking back at him. He was slightly startled, but he recovered quickly, pulling you back for another kiss. You could both feel it, the slight clanking of teeth due to you smiling—you both didn't care, you were in love.

"So," Hiccup enunciated when you both pulled away.

"Did you like the trick?"

"Hmm. . ." You looked up to think, but you already knew you were going to mess with him a bit.

"I've done better," You taunted, and shrugged.

"Really? Like what?" He smiled, he knew you could've done better, he'd seen your talent dozens of times do it for him, but he wanted to ask anyway.

"Oh, I dunno— like," You roll your eyes playfully, before holding his belt up to view.

"Taking your belt, perhaps?" He looked baffled, you'd never done that trick before. He looked down padded his hips, and there it wasn't, just his pants.

"How did you. . ." He paused his sentence when he saw you look at him cheekily. He shook his head in joking defeat, before he pulled you in for another kiss.

He didn't care how you did it; you could steal his belts, his pencils, his heart even—but he wouldn't pay it no mind.

Because you were here with him, and you loved him back, and that was all he needed to know.

BONUS ⋆˚ʚɞ

"So let me get this straight; you guys turned around, closed your eyes, then when you opened them again, she just disappeared into 'thin air'?" Astrid retorted, her arms crossed, unenthused.

You and the Dragon Riders were at the Great Hall, with The Twins explaining your 'spectacular' magic trick you did with them earlier that day while you all ate.

"Yeah!" The Thorston siblings said with confidence.

The Twins nodded eagerly, before going back and bickering, throwing their food at one another.

Astrid looked at you, tiredness coating her face, her expression unimpressed.

"What?" You said, but you already knew what she was looking at you like that for.

"I needed to get to Hiccup's hut, and they wouldn't stop bugging me," You complained, leaning into your soup. Hiccup was next to you, a gentle smile watching the scene unfold.

You were suddenly called by Snotlout, and you looked across the table at the dark-haired Viking.

"Any chance you could make someone fall in love?" He crooned, all the while looking at Astrid seductively and blew a kiss, which the blonde Viking rolled her eyes in distaste at, gagging.

"Eugh," Astrid heaved, with you softly giggling as you spooned food from your bowl into your mouth.

"Any chance you could make someone fall off a cliff?" She deadpanned at you.

"Y'know, Astrid, I think you could do that yourself," Hiccup piped up, Astrid going into thought as he said that, before grinning mischievously at you and Hiccup, before directing it at Snotlout.

His flirtatious demeanor faltered, changing into a nervous one.

"Uhh— somehow, I feel like I'm in danger."

bro nothing beats his confession to astrid and their love for one another, I NEED A RELATIONSHIP LIKE THEIRS ASAP!!!

anyway, don't forget to leave a note and comment what you think :3

thanks for reading ~ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

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kirozai · 10 months ago

Text

—HSR YANDERES AS TROPES.

Forced Proximity? Soulmates..? Amenesia! Common tropes that always end up happy! Your favorite characters love you so so much! But.. is it in the way you want?...

content warnings: yandere, toxic love, unreliable narrator, descriptions of gore, unrealistic relationships, unwanted PDA, depressive elements, suggestive, gn!reader (maybe ideas for makeup but most of the part is gn) pairing(s): sunday x reader, blade x reader, aventurine x reader, jing yuan x reader word count: around 350-500 each, 2100+ words in all A/N: I got a tiny bit carried away

Aventurine - Amnesia

WHAT’S PLAYING: engravings - Ethan Bortnick

Your eyes are blinded by the casino lights. The sound of chips being thrown and cards being shuffled fills your ears. Things feel so familiar, but at the same time, completely foreign. You turn your eyes to your lover. At least you think he’s your lover.

Two weeks ago you woke up in the dead of night on a hospital bed feeling numb from your head to the tips of your toes. The hospital lights were blinding making you feel dreary. You slowly regained movement by wiggling your fingertips and finally being able to sit up on the comfortable bed. As you gazed around the room you felt shocked to see gold engravings on the trim of the walls. It’s obvious it was a hospital, but it felt too expensive.

And you? You felt out of place.

A nurse walked into your room with a pan of what seemed like a new IV bag and other things like syringes and such. She turned wide-eyed and gasped as she suddenly dropped the pan of expensive medical equipment. You couldn’t make out what she said as she mouthed something out loud. The drowsiness hit you and you passed out.

The next time you woke up to a man sitting beside your bed in the most luxurious clothes you ever laid eyes on. He looked worried, very worried. Realizing you woke up once again his Avgin eyes-

Wait Avgin?...

“Sweetheart! You’ve been out for months. How are you feeling? Is there any pain? How… Can…?” He spoke quickly but after the first couple of sentences, his words faded into mush.

He called you sweetheart though, you deduced he was someone close to you. Someone that must have cared for you.

But then why do you feel-

Cutting your thoughts you paused. Thinking was causing you too much pain and headache at the moment. You tried to recall what happened.

And at that moment you realize you couldn’t even recall who you were.

After some time of recovery, you were able to get a couple of things down. The handsome man’s name was Aventurine. He is your lover. (?) You two have been together for quite some time now. You were diagnosed with severe amnesia, but your lover was kind enough to explain everything to you. Although, he was still hesitant to explain what happened to you and the reason why you were in the hospital.

You tried to get something out of the many doctors and nurses, but they seemed… scared.

Aventurine never left your side when other people were around. It was either you and him or no one at all. Leaving you lost and not being able to truly be clear about your condition. Everything went through Aventurine.

One day during your walk around the large hospital, Aventurine got a call. He looked at it and furrowed his eyebrows, smiled at you, said it was an urgent call, apologized, and left for a brief moment.

You dragged your IV stand a couple of steps more and abruptly stopped in your tracks as you overheard a pair of nurses talk about… you?

“IPC… they… lies… Aventurine… hiding.” Those were the only few words you were able to make out.

It no longer mattered though because Aventurine’s bright smile found you again and you walked back to your room first. If only you could see the piercing glare that he sent to the nurses. He wouldn’t know what to do if you heard about the fates of them after spreading lies to your pretty head.

After the recovery, you settled in enough to “your life”. Now you sit next to your lover whose luck shines more vibrant than a newborn baby’s laughter. You feel content for the most part.

I wonder if you would still feel content if you were able to take a good look past Aventurine’s perfect poker face. While you sleep he watches you worriedly, wondering if you’ll remember one day. Remember that this perfect love story he crafted isn’t so perfect after all. He wonders how you would react if you were to find out again the atrocities he’s committed in the name of “love”. He holds his chips tightly, but luck has always been on his side.

So tonight like any other night, you’ll smile with no idea of what had occurred in the past. At the end of the day, occasionally it is better to live unaware.

•••

Jing Yuan - Grumpy x Sunshine

WHAT'S PLAYING: Carousel - Melanie Martinez

The Luofu General was known for his joyous laughter and the positivity that he spread throughout the entire planet. He joked and was an infectious smiler. You on the other hand were known as the Yin to his Yang. If Jing Yuan was the sun, you were his moon. It’s adorable on paper, isn’t it?

You do nothing less than agree with the fact that your husband Jing Yuan was very positive. The reason why differed from others though.

You believed the reason he was so happy was because he sucked every smile, every laugh out of you.

Your story was the average fairytale, opposite attracts and then they fall in love. The End.

Unfortunately for you, Jing Yuan was anything but ordinary, and maybe that played a part in your perfect tragedy.

Jing Yuan loved you. You knew that for sure. He had always been a PDA person, always close to you and you would most likely be seen dead than without his arm around your waist. It wasn’t a big deal though. This is what lovers usually do right?

Until you tried to back away. Things got… messy.

Arguments ensued and you realized that he never really treated you as an equal. He loved you, yes, but he viewed you as lesser and somehow put you on a pedestal at the same. exact. time.

“You don’t respect me.” You stated firmly.

“But I love you.” He replied as if nothing was wrong.

You never thought your husband to be a jealous person and truly he was not. The possessiveness is what got you through.

It began small from making excuses on why you shouldn’t go out,

“It’s my day off!” or “It might rain soon.” Both are lazy excuses you’ve heard again and again. Yet you still seemed to fall again and again for his sunshine charms and wits.

You were the perfect lover to Jing Yuan, loving, kind, and malleable to believe whatever he wanted you to believe.

At some point after the large argument you two shared, you didn’t remember the last time when you had left the estate.

You felt stuck, stuck on a carousel that kept going around and around and stuck trying to read between the lines of Jing Yuan’s perfect facade. If you caught him at the wrong time you wouldn’t see him for days and when he would return he would haphazardly apologize with the stupidest excuses.

You never raised your voice anymore after THAT argument though. You were too scared to. So even when he scratches his name into your skin, even if he hugs you so tightly to the point that you feel like your lungs are collapsing, you find excuses for him. For yourself. To make this entire relationship work

Because you love him.

And you don’t not what scares you more anymore. The slight warning in his tone and the ever-present toxicity seeping its way into your originally “perfect” marriage.

Or.

The fact you’ll still stay even if it gets worse.

Why?

Because you love him.

•••

Blade - Forced Proximity.

WHAT’S PLAYING: This is Love - Air Traffic Controller

There’s blood on the walls, the floors, and even on the couch. Anything you’ve been able to find you’ve smashed onto the ground. Your hands are covered in blood. No worries to Blade though. He sits on the couch covered in the blood of a man. Your eyes flicker to the dead body right in front of you. The now dead man who tried to help you escape from this prison Blade oh so lovingly calls “your” home to no avail.

Blade’s red eyes stare into the distance of space. Perhaps he’s wondering what he should do next for your transgressions. Perhaps he is wondering what he can do to make you smile again. Or maybe, he doesn’t care. Maybe he finds happiness and contentedness in your suffering. After all, a being who is forever stricken by mara might find peace in others' pain.

But.

Past this mara-stricken being is a man who does have some semblance of love for you. Blade knew your every like and dislike. He would trail kisses up your neck and on your lips. You’d joke together. You both were disgustingly domestic at times. At least that’s what appeared. Loving Blade wasn’t difficult when every moment you breathed you were near him.

You wear outfits perfectly fitted to your style sponsored by your self-proclaimed lover himself. Anything you want you’ll get. Jewels, clothing, books, anything you could ever desire. It’s nothing but pocket money for the Stellaron Hunter.

Your mascara has been smudged after all the tears. Your sniffles fill up the room, you look at your palms. Hands covered in scratches and blisters from broken glass and accidental burns. You don’t have to worry though, Blade will patch it all up for you. This situation will fade into the past just like all the others. Your head peaks again at the dismembered and maimed body on the floor. You stop breathing yet again. You shut your eyes and open them once again when you feel a warm breath on your neck.

It’s Blade, you can tell that the mara had warned off him. He tightens his arms around your body and somehow pulls you closer than he ever did before in your “relationship”. You blink once again as a tear rolls down your cheek and pray to any Aeon out there for help. Despite this, you're well aware it’s no use. There’s no place in the universe where Blade won’t find you. So you close your eyes to hum a broken chord as you prepare for the cycle to begin again.

•••

Sunday - Soulmates

WHAT’S PLAYING: Butch 4 Butch - Rio Romeo

Fairytale love stories where the prince and the princess lived happily ever after were something that you grew up with on your home planet. As you grew up though, “soulmates” left your mind. Other things like making credits and exploring the galaxies were more on your agenda than finding “true love”.

True love was a fairytale. Something that didn’t exist and that’s what you stood by ever since.

Ever since your planet was destroyed by its inhabitants. If people couldn’t love the homes they lived in how could they ever love one another?

You enjoyed travel, you enjoyed learning about other planets, cultures, and people. You didn’t have time for the nonexistent love. Though you enjoyed hearing the stories of it. You’ve met others who found their “soulmates”, their one and only blessed by the Aeons themselves.

On your travel across the world, you stumbled on Penacony, The Planet of Dreams and Entertainment. The perfect and endless days are what brought you in the most. You could be there for days on end but turn out to only spend a couple of hours outside in the “real world”.

Real world huh?

You think you miss the real world a little bit.

“Are the pastries not to your liking love?” Sunday inquires.

“They’re… fine.” You reply.

Sunday smiles. You don’t know what it means though. He smiles at everything, he smiles at gatherings, at your laughter, and even at the tears you desperately try to hold in. He thinks of you as something to be protected, something that should be kept safe in a cage, away from the tainted lies of others.

Everything feels uncomfortable, from the moment you met Sunday you felt an odd gravitational pull towards him. It was truly as if he was your soulmate.

Except,

Something begged you to run away, something deep in the back of your soul. It all went away when you laid eyes on him though.

You wish you listened to your fight AND flight response.

Everything you wear is coordinated by the Head of the Oak Family. From the tiniest detail to your entire personality. Sunday is a firm believer that only the true you can come out behind closed doors, with locks only he has access to. His mansion was the perfect enrichment for a now flightless bird like you.

Perhaps the fairytales were somewhat true. The prince and the princess always seemed to stay forever together.

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lunarxcity · 5 months ago

Text

Why here? (Part VI to Why me?)

azriel x rhys' sister! reader

angst/eventual comfort ( Now this one is a bit different from the rest and is a bit angsty and more Eris and Azriel focused so we'll see how that goes )

Summary: When you walk in on Azriel and Elain the mating bond snaps leading you to flee to Autumn with Eris so you can be free of Azriel. Your absence causes Azriel to come to some drastic realisations, but is it already too late and has your time in Autumn led to you moving on?

Parts I, II, III, IV, and V if you missed them!

There is an enchanted chessboard older than the cauldron itself. Before the fae inhabited this world and when the creatures in the prison roamed free Fate had gifted the Mother a chessboard. They play more often than not and through the centuries the stakes have gotten higher and higher.

Around the times of the first high lords, when the lines of the courts were being drawn and the Cauldron was being built an intruder had run interference on their game. A small black tendril, nameless in nature and free in spirit, the first shadow of this world. The emergence of the first shadowsinger had awoken it, apparently teaching it to shift through the different worlds and it had accidentally stumbled upon the Mother's. The shadow had swirled around the pieces, animating them and moving them around which gave the Mother the wonderful idea of turning her pieces into the lives of actual fae as the chess games had become rather boring lately.

So for centuries, the Mother and Fate have been writing the destinies of unsuspecting fae. Move after move, piece after piece. Now this particular game has hit quite a standstill. Move after move and yet no clear winner or end in sight. The story of you and Azriel has been a rather difficult one to craft and the game has been played for hundreds of years, it's vicious and cut-throat. The Mother who has been playing for you has been going for direct and sharp moves, while Fate who has been playing for Azriel has been going for the unsuspecting moves, the ones that you don't realise are happening until it's too late.

"How long are we going to make them dance around each other for?" The Mother looked at Fate with her all-knowing gaze before she began to eye her pieces, a pensive look that only belonged to someone who is actively working out their strategy because if the Mother hated one thing it was losing.

Fate looked back at her, "We could continue this game for all eternity darling. What's the rush when we have forever? You do know how I love a slow dance." Fate had always loved the journey, he loved to craft these elaborate stories for the Mother's characters, he always told her that he believed it would make the payoff better, but she was rather fond of these characters and they had been playing for so very long.

The Mother made her move. She sighed, "Haven't we made them go through enough? I do like these ones they might be my favourites." She looks at him in his ethereal eyes, glowing with a light that was anything but mortal, "You do know the sister plotline was a bit much. She has gone through enough any more struggles and she might not even want the mating bond anymore."

He looks at her and then the pieces, competition lacing his very being, he moves his piece. "I believe that suffering is the only way to bring out the truth of someone's character. It is in these moments of darkness that we must look actually look at ourselves and truly see us for what we are."

He picks reaches out across the table and holds her hand. "This is the only time we can truly change for the better. They would have never been happy together otherwise my love. You know that you made them both too stubborn for their own good." Fate gives the Mother a blinding smile, one with all the kindness and reprise that he refuses to give the ones who's destiny he is in charge of.

She gives him an annoyed look. Not one of true annoyance but rather an I'm annoyed your right and know me well enough to know I agree with you kind of annoyance. She gives a small smile back and goes, "Yes the shadowsinger reminds me of a certain someone too. Someone who is also too stubborn for his own good and refuses to accept a loss.

At this the Mother smirks and moves her piece, she looks at Fate with a mischievous grin and forces his hand. Very few had the power to tamper with Fate, but right now the Mother had him in the palm of her hand. She smiles and for the first time in almost 500 years she it looks like the game is going in her favour, the endgame is near and she refuses to lose.

"Check."

In the Gardens of Velaris, there was a shadowsinger hiding in the shadows. This was not an unusual sight, as his job description entails spying and the shadows are curious creatures, what was unusual was the feeling of the mating bond that had just snapped for Azriel.

He has been yearning for this very thing for Centuries, so now that he has it, why does the world feel like it's collapsing beneath his feet. You were only a few feet away in the distance. He could literally see you. See you laughing with Eris. Eris.

Rage envelops him and a way of thinking so primal and ancient is fighting with his rational mind. Well as rational as it could be mind. A bombshell has been dropped on him and he is trying his best under the current circumstances to stay calm and not tear Eris' throat out for being that close to you and even worse, making you laugh.

Shadows emanate from every fibre of his being. The shadows take over, and Night hears them, and together, they envelop the court in an all-consuming blackness that snuffs out every light source for miles. It had only lasted for a millisecond, barely anyone had noticed it and those who did had just assumed they had blinked or it was a trick of a light, but he could tell you did.

You started looking around frantically. Cauldron save him he couldn't face you right now. He had no right to even look at you. After the initial shock of learning that you were his mate, the reality of everything that he has done came crashing down on him. Azriel can't deal with himself. The reality of what he has put you through. He pined over Mor for over a century. He almost invoked a Blood Duel over Elain. You were his mate and he had forsaken your bond. Forsaken your bond for another fae's mate. Your friend's mate.

Mother free him from this torment. Everything came crashing into him at once. Reminders of every time that he had ignored you for another female. Reminders of the flash of sadness that would flicker in your gentle gaze every time that Azriel would rain-check your plans for Elain or talk about another female.

The look of disdain that Rhys had on his face the night he found him and Elain. The uncharacteristic cruelty that had been directed towards Azriel. The distance of the inner circle and his own shadows. Everyone had known. Everyone except for him. Did you know? Is that why you left? Why you had been ignoring him for months?

He tries to tug on the bond and he winces. The bond snaps back at him painfully like a rubber band that was held taught and released. Seems like even the bond itself is punishing Azriel. So you didn't know then?

You were still looking around with your senses on high alert and it seems like you weren't the only one that had noticed the blackout. Eris in all his horrendous glory had also been surveying the area and while you looked like started pray that was scanning for predator to jump out of the bushes and attack, Eris was every bit the predator scanning the area ready to pounce.

Azriel locked eyes with Eris. Eris' eyebrows raise, his eyes holding mischief and curiosity, a truly despicable combination. The conniving fox never stops his scheming and with a smirk he puts his hand on your lower back and leans to whisper something in your ear. All while maintaining eye contact with Azriel.

His rational side is long forgotten and he luges for Eris. Pupils dilated, teeth bared, and siphons glowing. Instead of landing on Eris, he landed on a barrier of shadows which drag him through the shadow realm like a parent dragging their misbehaving toddler by the arm into timeout.

The shadows drag him through the shadow realm, struggling to constrain him, and throw him onto the floor of the training ring in the house of wind. Rhysand and Cassian arrive on the scene moments later, amusement coating their features once they see the position that Azriel is in. Cassian bursts into a fit of laughter seeing Azriel shadows trying to hold him in place and watching him fight back against them, while swearing profusely.

Rhys saunters towards Azriel, "Well took you long enough brother. Release him." The shadows immediately release their hold of Azriel. The look he's giving Rhys is filled with so much malice that anyone other than Rhys would have shivered at his gaze.

Rhys is gives Azriel a predatory smile that is anything but friendly. Rhys says, "Now that you officially know I can finally do this", and he punches Azriel in the face. Rhys looks at Azriel while he's on the floor from the hit, "You want to be my brother again. Earn it. "

Azriel's nostrils flare and he comes swinging at Rhys with full force. Cassian is enjoying this a lot more than he should have and the house agrees spawning him popcorn on the table on the outskirts of the training ring. Between Azriel's vicious as a result of a new mating bond and Rhys' pent up anger for hundreds of years of pain you endured this was going to be a very entertaining fight.

There were very few things that brought Eris Vanserra true unadultered joy - his schemes, the suffering of his enemies, and apparently spending time with you. For these few months with you had been the first time he genuinely enjoyed someone's company. He was sad you were leaving, of course, but that was the whole point of your stay, you would process your mating bond and return when you had distanced yourself from it enough that being around Azriel wouldn't break you.

Eris had never wished for a mating bond. He has never been surrounded by happiness, let alone love, only pain, and would never wish that life upon another. To be tethered to Eris is to be tethered to a lifetime of cruelty and a lifetime of pain. He watched his mother suffer every day at the hands of his father, the only true happiness she experienced was in the presence of Eris or Lucien, whom she seldom sees anymore. He watched the love of Lucien's life be sentenced to death by his father.

Eris knows that when he becomes the high lord of Autumn that he will have a target on his back and is one day destined to meet a bloody end. How could he sentence someone to a fate like that? Every Vanserra's is a flame - burns brightly, hurts to the touch, and is destined to go out.

Now Eris does believe in love but he also believes in choice and he has chosen to keep his circle small and tight for as long as he could remember. His walls were impenetrable and he was very guarded, he wore cruelty as a mask and indifference as a cloak with wit being his sword. He had never needed anyone, he only needed himself. That's what he told himself when Lucien had told him he was leaving Autumn for Spring. That's what he told himself when he isolated himself for hundreds of years and that's what he told you when you guys had first met in the Autumn Court library.

You had been about 75 and were in the Autumn Court on a diplomatic visit with Rhys and your father. You had grown bored and decided to sneak off into the Autumn Court library in the middle of the night, unaware that anyone would be there. You had just waltzed in and started grabbing text after text that Eris was actually impressed and had remained silent for two hours until he decided enough was enough and it was time to bother you. You guys argued for hours, matching each other's wit in a way that Eris had never experienced, and he didn't admit it to anyone but he was looking forward to your next visit.

You guys had always corresponded after that. Remaining good friends and regularly sending each other updates, book recommendations, and even jokes. Eris realised that he missed you, a very uncommon feeling for the cold hearted fire wielder and was elated to receive an invite to the Night Court ball. He arrived elated to see you only to find you on the arm of the shadowsinger. He couldn't be upset though, because you ran to him excitedly and embraced him in a hug.

Eris refused to be second to anybody so he gave it up and accepted his role in your life. You value the people in your life greatly and he appreciates your friendship either way but it would be a lie to say it didn't pain him to hear about Azriel for so long.

Azriel had this amazing person pining after him and he couldn't even appreciate you enough to properly give you his attention. How he didn't know you had feelings for him, Eris couldn't figure out. He was the Spymaster of the Night Court and he couldn't even notice how your eyes lit up in his presence.

When you had written Eris in a panic calling in the favor you held over him for securing certain information about Beron, Eris knew it had something to do with that Cauldrons-damned shadowsinger and had left immediately. The minute he was in that room with you and him and the rest of the inner circle, he knew the mating bond had snapped for you and that Azriel was contemplating invoking a blood duel over Elain. A blood duel with his brother. Eris was furious.

Eris is still furious. The shadowsingers stupidity almost got his brother killed and maybe you, he believes you to be formidable, but a broken mating bond has catastrophic effects on fae. It was something he would never wish upon you. Eris would lie to everyone but himself and he knows that he has sent a prayer to the Mother at least once or twice or more times asking for you to be his mate because he knows that while he could never deserve you he would do everything in his power to try to be.

Eris is not a traditionalist by any means, how could he be when his father runs Autumn with an iron fist claiming that the old way is the best way especially when it comes to fae rights, but Eris does believe in the sanctity of a mating bond. If you and Azriel had tried it out and it didn't work then he would be free to make his move, but anytime before then he deems it unacceptable. He also feels the same for Elain and Lucien, which is another reason he didn't respect Azriel.

Eris would never openly sabotage your life like that. The number one thing he wishes for is your happiness and he sends a prayer to the Mother for that a lot more than he would care to admit. That doesn't mean that Eris can't at least mess with Azriel and make his life a living hell for the period before you get together. He did cause you to suffer for so long, it's only fair.

Eris does not consider himself to be a good person. He's selfish and downright evil at times, but he believes the Mother knows him at his soul and that one day when he is freed from the confines of his father the Mother will allow him to find happiness in either this life or the next. While he doesn't need a mating bond, he is tired and exhausted from being so lonely all the time. When everyone sees you as a villian, it's so hard to not become one and Eris is ready for some change.

But today was not the day for changing for the better. Which is what Eris tells himself as he meets Azriel's gaze in the Gardens of Velaris. Based on the dilated pupils and the overall feral look of the shadowsinger, Eris assumes that the mating bond has just snapped for him. Oh goody. This would be a real treat for Eris. A bit of payback if you will.

Eris raises a brow and maintains eye contact with the shadowsinger as he gets close to you and puts a hand on your lower back. He gives some sort of witty retort and you laugh. He continues to look at Azriel while all of this is happening, just to add to the torment. He sees Azriel lunge and then disappear in a cloud of shadow. Well looks like his shadows took care of that. He'll be back eventually and then Eris can do the same thing again.

Eris has already made peace with the fact that you were not his, but he had to make sure you had the best in his absence and if you were destined to be with this male Eris had to at least test him first. Consider it a hazing ritual or reparations for the way he treated you. Either way Azriel was going to make sure this male suffered until he shapes up and became the perfect mate because you deserve nothing less and if Azriel fails to do that then Eris would have no problem sweeping the rug from under him in his own Court.

Eris loves a challenge and he has grown very bored lately. He let Lucien in on this plan and Lucien had actually spoken about wanting to give Elain the opportunity to get to know him, now that Azriel's out of the picture, so the timing was working anyways. Worst case scenario the Night Court is in shambles which would sit back and enjoy anyways. Best case scenario you leave back with him to Autumn and never step foot in this court ever again and leave the shadowsinger forever. Either way he gets to spend time with you and torment Azriel.

He thinks Rhys agreed to this arrangement just because he also wants Azriel to suffer a little bit, after everything he's done.

Eris looks at you again, snapping you out of your search for Azriel. he goes, "I have a surprise for you." You look up at him, focusing on what he's saying, but still being half distracted by the idea of Azriel being near.

"You were saying how much you were going to miss me due to you leaving of Autumn and I have business in the Night Court, so guess who is going to be staying here for the foreseeable future?" Eris says all of this with the smug grin you have been accustomed to seeing him don.

Your face lights up and he continues. "Lulu is also going to be tagging along because he adores his charming older brother so much-" You roll your eyes at him. "Lucien did not say that."

Eris cuts you off by throwing his arm over your shoulder and leads you through the arches of the garden into the ball. "But he will once he sees the havoc we are going to wreak in Night." Eris gives you a mischievous grin and for once you actually give one back as you take your official steps back into your life in the Night Court.

part vii

note: This chapter was actually meant to be twice as long and this was the first part but I am about to get busy so I wont be writing for the next week or so and I wanted to get something out before I fall of the grid. I will be answering to asks though I do love receiving them and hearing what you guys think I just won't have that much time to write. The style of this chapter is a lot different from the rest so I do want to know what you guys think. I didn't think it was a good idea for the reader and Azriel to interact immediately after the bond snapped for him, he was just in such a high alert state that I don't think it would be a good idea until he's at least calm again(I know Rhys has been holding in that punch for hundreds of years). Until next time my lovelies!

note note: again pls ignore the lack of editing and the sleep deperivated state I wrote this in :)

taglist: @alimarie1105@chaosabroad@bbontenswhhore@tele86@ashblooddragons@circe143@i-am-infinite@princesssunderworld@thestartitaness@tiffany-xx@cpfantasybooks @lucia-valentinaa@jennigsonl@ivy-34@firefly-forest@k-homosapien@coeurdeveea@cherryjain17@bckynatt@becstersworld@rcarbo1@gojospearlycim@atluky@juliebluehufflepuff@willowpains@abadfantasybook@neverendingstay@hellohauntedturnstudent@highladyofhogwarts@littowl@iluvyewman-blog@lunaticpotatoe @justlivinginadaydream @julesiebean @shylahstarzz @olive-main @lreadsstuff

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celestie0 · 1 year ago

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach.

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her.

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?”

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.”

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long.

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore.

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you.

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights.

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.”

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you.

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give.

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes.

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong.

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.”

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth.

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck.

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field.

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed.

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead.

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too.

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!”

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before.

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck.

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.”

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.”

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?”

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess.

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that.

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair.

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.”

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.”

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.”

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand. “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry.

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—”

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does.

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.”

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done.

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you.

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look.

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing.

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness.

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing.

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused.

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging.

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist.

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along.

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ take me to chapter ten!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

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mekakitsune · 9 months ago

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caitlyn x vi x reader | nsfw - minors dni

as promised <3 extension of my last post but can be read separately

you, despite your confusion, were happy to hear violet was in contact with her sister once again. you had heard the stories, drunked and slurred as the pink haired girl poured her heart out.

what shocked you, was news of a certain someone finding her way back into violets life. you had respect for vi, for whatever her and caitlyn had going on. your job at the brothel came with many feelings, ones that you had trained yourself to push away. a job is a job, thats what youd tell yourself.

the night went by like any other as of recent, slow and barely steady, leaving you with not much else to do but pack up and find your way home. it was only a small amount of time after your curtains were closed for the night that you heard hushed voices in the hall.

"are you sure?" a voice spoke, seemingly uncertain in the unusually quiet halls of the brothel.

"just...trust me?" it was her, the girl you had seen many times over the last few weeks, the girl who had drunkenly poured her heart out to you in the very room you sat in. sometimes, it was sex, a way to make both of you forget the general dismay of the fissures. other times, you just talked, almost like a small, pitiful therapy session for the both of you.

you had told her to come back, had she needed anything, but to follow her heart, to find the girl that held the key.

the curtian slid open slowly revealing the pair. you gave a gentle, yet sad smile as your eyes locked onto vi's.

"i told you id come back....and look, i brought a friend" she joked with a nervous chuckle, but something in her voice seemed uncertain. you swear you noticed the other girl stifle a laugh with a roll of her eyes.

"im glad you made it safe, both of you." you gave a genuine smile. you knew way more than you should, but seeing violet seem more lively than before, and seemingly sober, you took their appearance together as a good thing.

"im sure the two of you had a lot to say about me, and i get it. it was a lot of miscommunication, on both parts, but i wanted to thank you...for being there for her." the dark haired girl spoke, leaving you surprised at her kind words. you half expected the girl to jump you, not thank you for sleeping with her so called "situationship."

"its what i do." you stated simply, giving the girl a bashful smile. this felt so different from any other client visit.

"she told me about you...how you took care of her." caitlyn spoke smoothly, moving to sit herself beside you on the couch, dangerously close.

"youre a good person for that." she placed her hand on your knee, causing your skin to tingle. vi moves to sit herself beside you on the opposite side, leaving you feeling slightly overcrowded suddenly.

"she did...did everything i needed her to." violet spoke, hand finding yours and giving it a comforting squeeze.

the air suddenly felt hot as the two girls shuffled impossibly close. cool fingers found your chin, belonging to caitlyn, moving your head to look at her. "we want to repay you." she purred, scanning your face carefully for any signs to back off.

"you dont need to pay me...i just thought it was the right thing to do, no strings attached." you spoke softly, words almost getting caught in your throat at the sudden attention from the girl.

caitlyn hummed at your response, a smirk on her pretty lips.

"you know, ever since vi told me about you, the two of us havent been able to stop thinking about you."

you turn slightly to look at vi, who nodded with a sly smile on her face. "s'true. best lay ive had in a long time." she poked your side teasingly, making you huff and laugh softly.

turning back to caitlyn, you spoke– "this isnt how i expected this meeting to go..." you confessed, mesmerized by how easy it was for these two to charm you.

"lifes full of surprises, isnt it?" caitlyn whispered, eyes trailing on your lips. your breath hitches as she leans in, lips almost touching where you suddenly wanted her.

"just say the words and we will stop." her breath tickled your skin, making your chest squeeze in anticipation.

"please dont." you barely manage to speak, and with the final confirmation, her lips press against yours. the kiss was hungry, sinful for just having met the girl. her tongue brushed your lips, and you immediately grant her access to what shes been craving. a whine sounds from your throat as a strong pair of hands find your hips from behind you, rubbing affectionately.

after a few more breathless moments, the girl pulls back from your lips. her eyes seem darker now, filled with something you couldn't place.

a shudder rips through you as vi's lips find your neck, pressing searing kisses against the skin.

"let us take care of you." she muttered between nips on the delicate skin.

you nod desperately, back pressing against her firm chest. caitlyn moves in front of you gracefully, fingers finding the ribbons of your robe, untying it with experienced fingers. the fabric falls down your shoulders revealing your breasts, making both girls hum in approval.

caitlyns hands find home on your chest, squeezing softly and smirking at the cute whines leaving your lips and the arch of your spine. she moves forward to press calculated kisses along the exposed flesh. her lips move to your nipples, sucking the bud softly as you pant beneath her. vi's hands move from your hips to push away the pool of fabric, leaving you bare. caitlyn moves to give vi a silent demand, which the girl immediately obeys. she pulls away from your back just enough to slip her fingers under her own shirt, pulling it off after she shrugs off her jacket. youre pulled back against her with much force, causing you to gasp, the feeling of the warm skin of her breasts against your back making you undeniably soaked.

caitlyns hands move to your thighs, spreading them in a sinful yet delicious manner. she shuffles herself so she is between your legs, and her lips press kissed along your lower stomach and thighs. you gasp and your hips buck into her as she leaves small bites along your plush skin.

after much teasing and marking you up, you feel her breath on your core. you feel her blow cool air onto your dripping pussy, making you moan loudly.

caitlyn laughs slightly at your reaction. "you were right vi, she is cute." she smiled at the display infront of her. vi huffs a laugh against your neck in response –"told ya."

a whine sounds from you again and caitlyn decides she cant hold herself back any longer. the moment her tongue touches your cunt, electric sparks tingle up your spine, making you buck into her once again. her pace is steady, licking and sucking at your swollen clit and dripping hole. once shes deemed you ready, her fingers play with your hole before sliding in two slim digits. you gasp at the intrusion and arch against the girl sat behind you, who is very clearly enjoying the show. vi's lips find your neck again, sucking pretty purple splotches into your heated skin.

it was incredibly overwhelming, the lips on your neck paired with the fingers in your cunt. you were getting close embarrassingly quick, despite having sex for a living. you had never felt so taken care of, so...noticed.

caitlyn watches intently as her fingers slid in and out at a steady pace, moving her head back down to lap at your clit once again. you clench around her fingers tightly, gasping and moaning into the back of your hand. suddenly, a strong hand rips your own away from your lips.

"dont get shy now pretty girl, show her how good shes making you feel, let us hear it." vi muttered into your neck, making you spiral even deeper.

you mind was beginning to fog and your cunt was undeniably dripping onto the couch below, but you didnt care. not when caitlyn was eating you out like you were her last fucking meal. your hips shuddering and your whines pitching told both girls you were close to cumming.

"cum for us baby, let us see it." vi rasped from behind you, hands squeezing at your sensitive chest.

her words were more than enough to push you over the edge, along with caitlyns steady thrusts. she licks at your pussy as you moan shamelessly. you cum hard around her fingers and into her mouth, not missing the groan ripping from caitlyns throat as she swallows everything you give her. she doesnt stop until your panting hard, hips bucking and thighs shaking. she pulls away after letting you ride it out, moving up to slot herself between your thighs. her fingers find your chin as she pulls you into another kiss, this time much messier and far less calculated. you whine against her lips quitely, unintentionally following her as she pulls away. before you can protest, shes leaning over your shoulder and slamming her lips against vi's, making her moan at the taste of you on her girlfriends tongue. you watch in awe as the two girls kiss feverishly.

after a moment caitlyn pulls back again, this time looking down at you. her chest is heaving and her lips are swollen, its an incredible sight to behold.

"i want to see her make you cum now." she nods at vi, who immediately grabs your hips and flips you over so you are beneath her.

"you can give us another, right princess?" vi smirks at your shocked expression, large hands rubbing your thighs.

what have you gotten yourself into? something told you it was going to be a long night.

TAGLIST: @frsnkxie @themoonitselff

let me know if anyone would like to be tagged in future works!

#this got wild quickly and i got lazy towards the end i apologize #enjoy pookies #arcane #arcane smut #arcane x reader #vi x caitlyn x reader #vi x reader #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn x vi #vi smut #caitlyn smut #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn kiramman x reader #lesbian #nsfw.mp3 🫧

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wing-ed-thing · 10 days ago

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God Spelled Backwards is D-O-C-T-O-R (Trafalgar Law x Reader, Chapter VII)

Synopsis: Dr. Trafalgar Law is the brilliant, cold, new electrophysiologist fresh out of residency with something to prove. He wasted no time in singling you out as you battle his unyielding demands and an overbooked schedule with non-existent back up. Your dynamic goes beyond professional tension, and in a hospital where boundaries are protocol, and protocol is gold, it’s an all out fight for power and control.

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags/Warnings: Minors DNI, CardiacElectrophysiologist!Law, EchoTech!Reader, AFABFEM!Reader, Modern Hospital AU, Slight Sanji x Reader, Language, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Workplace Sexism, Heavy Dumbification, P in V Sex, Fingerfucking, Dirty Talk, Workplace Sex, Sir Kink, Degredation, Petnames (Good Girl, Baby, Sweetheart), Unprotected Sex, Dom!TrafalgarLaw, HIPAA Violation

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII

Another day with the schedule from hell. The fact that it was a Friday almost seemed to make things worse. The weekend was right there, oh so close and yet so far. You had half the nerve to call out that morning as soon as you opened your eyes. But ultimately, who would you call out to? And with Nami out and Hancock temporarily seeing patients out of Main instead of Kokoyashi, there was no one else to count on.

You strolled into the office. Too few hours had gone by since you were last there, but instead of a dead, empty office, Jean Bart was already sitting at the desk next to yours.

He had turned everything on. The room was spruced up and smelled like coffee. The piece of equipment you couldn’t figure out yesterday was displaying a happy connection screen, and to top it all off, Jean Bart already had the schedule pulled up on his computer.

He turned in his chair as you entered. You stopped short, wondering if this was a dream and if you’d slept through your alarm.

“Hey,” you greeted him, surprised, “What’s… up?” You blinked a few times.

“I heard you could use some backup,” he said, sipping his coffee, glancing toward the screen. “By the looks of it, you really need it,” he mused.

And just from the way he said it alone, you had half the nerve to send him back to Law. It wasn’t Jean Bart himself— you thought very highly of the multi-talented nurse, especially having worked with him yourself— but the very fact that Law sent him down here.

Because you didn’t need help from him, of all people.

“Hancock, Hogback, Trafalgar, and Crocus are all in today. Crocus has a good amount of post-ops from the late morning to the early afternoon,” Jean Bart recited. “Chopper has been doing well with Dr. T’s patients, but I can already see a few he’ll want sent down here.”

You took a look at the schedule. Goddamn, Jean Bart wasn’t kidding. Crocus was one of your heavy hitters, but given that he was halfway out the door to retirement, he wasn’t in nearly as much as some of the younger doctors were. But, for as much as Crocus ranted and complained about wanting to retire, he was just as stubborn as the rest of the providers at NBUMC. He tried retirement once, lasting less than a month before he came back and began taking patients again.

He was an absolutely brilliant doctor, one whom you respected highly, but his protocol was killer, and he always timed his blocks in the middle of your allotted lunch time. (Not that you got a regular lunch nowadays anyway.)

“Jean,” you started, setting your things down as you logged in to punch in. You shot him a tired, meaningful look. “You know I love you.”

“I’m here of my own free will, and this has nothing to do with your ongoing feud with Dr. Trafalgar,” he stated before you could even levy the accusation. He was good, and despite the little time he had spent in imaging, he knew you well.

“I know how busy your clinic gets,” you said pointedly with a frown, “You should be with your team.”

“It’s a light day.” Jean Bart shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee.

“A light day?” You quirked a brow because Trafalgar Law’s clinic and light are two words that didn’t belong in the same sentence. “Now I know something isn’t right.”

Jean Bart crossed his ankle over his opposite knee, tilting his chin down as he gave you a stern look. He spoke your name like he was gearing up for a scolding.

“Is it so hard for you to accept help?” he shot straight to the point. His voice was level and unaccusing, just filled with exasperated understanding. “Or is this still about Dr. Trafalgar?”

You sighed, opening your mouth to deny him, but your reaction was apparently enough evidence.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Jean Bart affirmed somewhat sternly. He turned in his chair to fully face you. His long legs were planted on the floor, and he leaned forward so his elbows touched his knees. Jean Bart continued to hold his cup of black coffee between both hands. “And I think you know that.”

“I don’t like him,” you stressed, and Jean Bart said nothing in response. He looked at you with a neutral expression, still poised for a lecture. But if you were going to take a lecture from anyone in the building, it would be from Jean Bart.

“Well, if you don’t like him so much and don’t want Dr. Trafalgar— who you don’t care about, by the way— to think you need help, then…” He shrugged, heaving a heavy breath. “He can fuck off, right?”

You gaped in amused shock, your breath stolen straight from your chest.

“Jean!” you cried in disbelief, a mischievous smile on your lips.

Jean Bart sat back in his chair, offering another shrug and a bounce of his stern brow.

“If he means so little to you, you shouldn’t care what he thinks. And if you get an extra pair of hands on a busy day, then that’s just a win for you,” he continued, taking another sip of his coffee. “Who cares what he thinks? Fuck him, right?”

You howled with laughter and pure shock. Ever respectful Jean Bart hardly ever used foul language, let alone spoke ill of another coworker. The sheer combination of his words and nonchalant attitude had you completely aghast.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” you laughed, although you died down quickly as you took in what he said.

Because you didn’t care about what Law thought of you, by all means, this was a great day to connect with a friend whom you’d worked with in the past. And with having Crocus in the middle of the day, Jean Bart could handle everyone else’s patients while you focused on the intricate cases.

“So…” you began, already anticipating Jean Bart’s reaction. “He did send you down here to help me?”

He let you sit with that question hanging in the air for just a moment. And you dared to consider that Jean Bart looked acutely disappointed.

“We don’t care about what Dr. Trafalgar thinks, so it doesn’t matter, remember?” He peered at you from over the lip of his cup.

You glanced away. You expected as much. Jean Bart was never one to play these types of games, and you knew it. You turned back to your computer, clicking around to make a mental list of what you needed to do for the day.

“But if we were to explore some different realities for a moment—” Jean Bart continued. You didn’t even swivel your chair to look at him. — “And if you didn’t completely dislike Dr. T— which we all know you do, of course— then I might assert that he doesn’t see you as weak and that perhaps you should just talk to him.”

“Jean—” you groaned.

“But that’s a preposterous thought exercise.”

“Note taken. Thank you for being here and helping me today,” you conceded.

You didn’t take your eyes off your computer, nor did Jean Bart with his, but both of you held your morning drinks out toward each other, bumping them against each other without a word or a glance. It was a cheers to a good day.

***

You had to hand it to him; having Jean Bart there was a lifesaver. He knew exactly what to do, needed little direction, and to top it all off, he could anticipate your needs like a goddamn mind reader.

“I restocked the gel in room 2. We were getting low,” he called as you were about to enter.

You ran over to the doorway between the imaging hall and the office, leaning against it adoringly.

“Have I ever told you that you’re amazing?” you grinned.

Jean Bart scoffed playfully. He stood at the desk he had claimed next to yours. He had done away with the chair, instead raising the table to stand at the desk. When you were on a roll, you also liked the height function. It made your workflow much more streamlined by keeping things at eye level, rather than having to sit down all the time. And when the clinic day was mostly done, you could lower the table to sit and review your data.

“You were trying to get me to leave earlier this morning,” he muttered.

“Through no fault of my own!” you called over your shoulder as you left to tend to your patient.

You could give your full attention and efforts to each person you imagined without worrying as much about the pile of others that cluttered your waking hours. This was precisely what you had always been trying to advocate for. Having even just one additional person at a given office, especially Main, was like inhaling a fresh breath of air.

Things were going so well that you even had time to run to the restroom, and you looked like you were going to get a lunch break today. Jean Bart insisted on finishing up the last of the patients, and so you took your time wandering back to imaging from the restroom just down the hall.

You were considering getting something at the food cart line when you rounded the corner—

“Oh my god!”

“Whoa there! Is there a fire no one told me about?”

You nearly barreled Sanji over at your velocity. He had to physically stop you, gripping you by both your biceps as he stumbled a step backward, absorbing your momentum as he went.

“Sanji! Hi!” you exclaimed with surprise the moment you caught your breath. Sanji smiled at you with as much sweetness as he usually did. “What are you doing here?”

He laughed at the question, letting go of your arms to mock a thought. He hummed to himself, stroking his chin with his hand as he gazed at you cheekily.

“What am I doing here?” he repeated playfully.

You rolled your eyes at him, swatting him on the arm.

“You know what I mean,” you scoffed.

“I was just a bit worried, is all,” Sanji admitted, looping his thumbs in his coat pockets. “You weren’t answering your phone last night, and I heard that Hogback was throwing a tantrum all yesterday.” He jabbed his thumb in the vague direction of Hogback’s wing. “Wanted to make sure you got home safe, hopefully at a fairly reasonable hour.”

You cringed at the mere mention of last night, and Sanji’s expression fell.

“That good, huh?” he hummed, oblivious to the fact that you were thinking about more than just a late clinic.

“Sorry I didn’t get back to you,” you said, fully aware of the exact time he’d called, along with all the thoughtful messages that followed his attempt. He’d practically said the same thing in the two messages following his missed call before politely bidding you a good night, and you didn’t even have it in you to text him back.

God, were you the worst person on the planet?

Sanji laughed again.

“Don’t sweat it, you’ve been through a lot. Given everything that’s been put on you, I would’ve told ya that taking care of yourself is the number one priority over messaging a goof like me back!” Please, stop talking. “I know it’s a bit last-minute, but I would love to treat you to a relaxation day this weekend to get your mind off things. I know the best spot for brunch. That’s actually why I came down here.”

You tried to muster a nice face to cover up your pained expression, because everything would’ve been so much easier if Sanji had been like every other guy who’d incessantly ask you out. But if that wasn’t the most perfect response you’d ever heard… and it stressed you out more.

“You know, after the week I’ve had, I probably wouldn’t make for the greatest company…”

“Nonsense!” Sanji beamed. “I bet you’d be excellent company no matter the mood.” He was adamant. “If you’d rather take Saturday to sleep in, let me take you out on Sunday. You’ve been working incredibly hard to carry this entire department. The least you deserve is to be treated.” And when he spoke, Sanji said it as if it were self-evident.

You opened your mouth to dispute him, but Sanji tilted his head toward you, already appearing like he had a retort ready. And quite frankly, you weren’t up for a dispute with him.

“You’re letting me get the bill this time,” you asserted.

Sanji hummed with amused thought.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he teased, “I’ll swing by your place at, say, nine?”

“Ten,” you countered, gulping down the weariness in your tone. “You don’t have to pick me up, you know.”

Sanji shrugged.

“We’re taking the load off you this week. Let me pick you up.” He wasn’t leaving any room for argument, not with that oh so understanding gleam in his eyes.

You took a breath, swallowing your frustrations in the face of what must’ve been the world’s most perfect man. How could you be expected to turn him down when he’s being so thoughtful? He’s not taking no for an answer, and you didn’t think you had it in you to fight him, no matter what. Because in the face of someone who’s trying to be so good and do so right by you, how could you possibly show any of your jagged edges?

“I’ll text you my address,” you conceded.

Sanji flashed you a wink.

“Perfect,” he said, and he was on his way.

You continued to stand still even when Sanji left, and as if on cue, Law slowly turned the corner. He revealed himself by a few steps before stopping, almost as if he was waiting for your conversation to finish before making his presence known.

And you didn’t even want to look at him. You wanted to stand completely still and disappear from his gaze like he was a T. rex and this was Jurassic Motherfuckin’ Park. But despite being cold-blooded himself, Law was no lizard, much to your dismay.

“What do you want?” you snapped.

“I wanted to talk to you about a patient,” Law answered curtly, “Wanted to see if you could be on my first afternoon slot.”

“Oh, so you’re done freezing me out?” You turned toward him with a fury that you’d been holding onto for the past week. “You don’t need to hide behind a scheduler anymore?”

He spoke your name with a familiarity that you could only assume he thought was helpful.

“I was trying not to interfere.”

“Like how you sent down Jean because you didn’t think I could handle myself?” you huffed. “Because you thought you could play hero and prove a point?”

Law’s expression didn’t change, nor did the tone of his voice.

“Jean Bart requested to come down here,” he said slowly and levelly.

“That’s a surprise,” you shot back, “I didn’t think you’d ever let anything happen that wasn’t a part of your manicured plot to control the whole goddamn hospital!”

You knew you were raising your voice, but you couldn’t stop. You crossed your arms over your chest, holding yourself tightly as if you were in desperate need of a sweater. You didn’t understand why you were so angry at him. And what was worse was that Law hadn’t given you the slightest reaction in return.

“I'm not trying to undermine you,” he spoke, his voice measured and low.

You scoffed, glancing down the hall toward imaging.

“Not trying to undermine me. Heh, sure,” you snarled. Your eyes were darting all over the place. You couldn’t decide what to do with your hands. Your feet shifted, unbalanced. “Just deciding that the imaging department no longer meets your godly standards, that you’re slowly replacing me with your own team. Because it doesn’t matter that I’m doing all this by myself while the entire department explodes on me! It doesn’t matter that I’m fucking good at what I do!”

“You’re the best at what you do.” Law’s voice almost sounded like a whisper in comparison to you.

“I am the best at what I do!” you raved, finally snapping toward him fully. Your hand exited your coiled posture just enough so you could gesture at yourself. You turned on your heel. Your hands went to your hips, then your hair, before you turned back to Law. “So if I’m so replaceable, you might as well let me train Chopper myself so you can have your perfect clinic the way you want it.”

You exploded onto Law like a flashfire, and through it all, he let you. You said what you wanted—what you needed—and Law only spoke when you simmered down.

“You didn’t want to go with him,” he replied with the slow bob of his head, like stating a fact. “You said yes to something you didn’t want, so you’re taking it out on me because you know I’m the only one who won’t back down when you break.”

He might as well’ve slapped you. That’s what his words certainly felt like: a direct slap to the face.

“I’m not broken,” you grunted. The heat rising to the top of your skin made you feel clammy. “Maybe if you bothered to notice, I wouldn’t have—” Law stared on as you bit back your words. Your eyes narrowed at him. “You know nothing about me.”

He stared right at you, taking a breath in and then out.

“I know more than you want me to.” He almost sounded resigned.

Your teeth formed a clenched line.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you gritted, quickly turning on your heel to make it back to imaging.

***

And so, perhaps taking Jean Bart’s advice wasn’t as easy as you thought. Because even despite your outburst in the hallway, when Law’s first afternoon patient rolled around, he acted like nothing happened. In fact, he acted like more than nothing had happened, as if negative things had happened, which was somehow possible and worse.

He stood by the door like he’d been tending to do for the past week. He barely approached you, only keeping enough proximity to be able to see your monitor and the direction of your probe. And just like Law had been for quite some time now, he was utterly silent.

He stood and watched at a professional distance, and yet you could practically hear his comments in your head. As you scanned, his commentary came to you as clearly as if he were speaking, telling you to adjust your gain or rotate a few degrees. You continued your work, fighting with the imaginary Law in your head, fortifying your arguments for when he questioned you about your choices.

But his scrutiny never came. And when he said, “Good,” it was like you were fragile.

The one time he didn’t say “better,” Law just gave you “good,” in the same way one would be pleasantly surprised with a dog. Because you supposed he thought you needed to hear “nice job,” so you didn’t explode. Well, it was far too late for that.

You stormed out of the exam room. You didn’t even linger to talk to Penguin or Shachi. You just made straight back to your wing because even with the help today, there was too much to do.

***

Jean Bart may have helped with the patient load, but you were still drowning in administrative work. Wapol had been the one to train you when you were onboarded—although the word "trained" was doing a lot of heavy lifting—and when he disappeared, the responsibilities had to fall on someone.

The team had been stretched thin as it was. NBUMC originally had about seven employees in the imaging department, and as satellite offices were opened to reach more patients, each of those technicians was relocated. Eventually, it was just you and Wapol at Main, and with him gone, you were made the de facto leader.

Although that upgrade was made in spirit only. You advocate several times for a title change—and more importantly, a pay raise—but it never came. And so there you stayed, a bandaid treated like industrial welding.

You peered ahead in the schedule to see how things next week were looking. The schedule was subject to change, but you wanted to get a sense of who was in at the very least. As you clicked through the days, you realized you had a relatively heavy week ahead, with every single day except Thursday being completely slammed and overbooked.

You inhaled, your hands sliding up your neck to cover your ears as you stared at the screen. It would have sucked on a regular day, but it would be unmanageable if Nami was still out next week. That, and Hogback appeared to be experimenting with his schedule again—likely going after research grants as usual.

You sent Nami a quick message asking how she’s doing, quickly turning your phone face down to swallow the guilt of checking up on her with an ulterior motive.

Your hands moved to cover your face, your elbows digging into the surface of your desk. But you shot back to an upright position as Jean Bart emerged from the imaging hallway. Like the sweet man he was, he had taken care of shutting down all of the outpatient imaging rooms.

He stood in the doorway, scrutinizing you for a moment.

“You’re going home on time, right?” he said slowly.

“Yeah, just finishing up the schedule for next week.” You nodded tiredly. Jean Bart seemed unconvinced.

“You should get a start on your weekend,” he suggested with a parental earnestness, “Staying any longer isn’t going to do any good.”

“Trust me, the moment I get a reply back from Nami, I’m out of here.” You slumped deeper into your chair. And perhaps it was your sheer and apparent exhaustion that was enough to convince Jean Bart that you’d keep your word.

“Text me when you get home,” he said tentatively, gathering his things to head out for the weekend. “And if you ever need help down here, just message me.”

“Will do.” You offered him a small smile, barely mustering the energy to swivel in your chair to send him off. “Get home safe. Enjoy your weekend.”

“You too,” he called back before leaving the imaging wing.

You turned back to your desk and checked your phone. Nami still hadn’t answered. Part of you wondered if you should just call it a weekend, but you also knew that if Nami couldn’t come in on Monday, it would be easier to start arranging things now than at the ninth hour. Hancock wouldn’t be too happy about being asked to move clinic locations again, but she’d be much more agreeable the more notice she had.

You decided to wait things out another ten minutes, rooting around on your computer in search of any emails to respond to, secure messages to read, or requests to approve. You were doing decently well for yourself. With the bit of free time you had between patients, you got caught up on most of your administrative work.

And just as you were deleting emails, you noticed a notification for the shared cardiology department drive.

“PORCIUS HOGBACK uploaded a new file to ‘NBUMC CARDIOLOGY LEADERSHIP DRIVE’ entitled ‘ECHO—”

The title of the document caught you off guard, so much so that you had to do a double-take. Because what business did Hogback have to do with anything regarding imaging?

You immediately went to the drive. The shared folder was intended to share protocols, schedules, and resources, but the document uploaded to the “General” folder was a document entitled “Echo Leadership Responsibilities.”

You wasted no time clicking it open. And the moment you read, “Patients are experiencing extensive wait times at the imaging department—” you knew exactly what had happened.

Dr. Hogback had accidentally shared a letter of complaints about you with the entirety of the department leadership and physicians. It was addressed to Dr. Saturn, detailing everywhere Hogback disapproved of your performance, down to your badge.

“The NBUMC Dress Code Policy clearly states in section 2 (Identification Badges), point F that ‘badges are not to be defaced with stickers, pins, labels, or other decoration or writings’...” the complaint wrote.

And you stared at it, rattled by the new information that you were supposedly going to take with you into the weekend. It was just… ridiculous. Unbelievable. Not only did this document exist, but Hogback was too much of an idiot not to realize he had shared it all to a public drive.

There it went: the rest of your barely salvageable mood. You sat with your face in your hands, hunched over your keyboard as you just simmered. Your brain was fried. Your patient was non-existent.

You should save this dumb letter and figure out a game plan, but what were you even devising a strategy for? You weren’t even sure if you could look at the thing again, but you knew you had to. You needed to read it all twice over because it would eat you alive if you didn’t. And you needed to figure out what you were going to do about it.

And then the door opened and closed. The sound had you on a knife’s edge. You weren’t sure how long you could restrain yourself before you lost it.

“This is really a horrible time,” you bit. You sounded like you were on the brink of tears. “You’ve got to stop doing this.”

But Law didn’t answer. You didn’t even hear him walk across the room, but when you heard the clicking of your mouse, you couldn’t help but jump slightly. You glanced up to see the blue NBUMC logo. Law still kept a hand on the back of your chair, leaning over you with his hand on your mouse. He had logged you out.

“I was doing something—”

“It’s after work hours,” he said, glancing down at you from where he stood, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Law—”

He swiftly unplugged the USB that connected your wireless mouse to your computer, pocketing it before you could blink.

“You know, you only call me by my first name when you’re worked up. I wonder why that is?” he hummed, standing up straight a step back from you with his hands in his pockets.

You blinked at him for a moment, needing a moment to register what he said. You hadn’t realized you’d spoken his name in the first place.

“I’d like to think I haven’t made a habit of using your first name at all.” You frowned, trying to muster up any brain power to engage in this exchange.

“You’ve said it,” he hummed, shrugging, “That one time.”

“I quite am literally going to combust if you don’t leave,” you snipped, almost impressed with yourself at how you’d been keeping it together.

“That’s actually why I’m here.” He leaned back against an adjacent desk. Although considering how absolutely leggy the man was, he’d have an easier time sitting on it— and even then his feet would certainly still be planted on the floor. He smoothly pressed the control panel, taking the surface of the table up to be a more convenient height for him. “I wanted to make sure you were still alive after your little meltdown earlier.”

“God, you’re so annoying.”

You reached for your badge to tap back in. In addition to the scheduling, you also wanted to tackle some of the things that Hogback detailed in his letter. You were certain that you’d be hit with that like a tsunami sooner rather than later. And if you had to defend yourself, you’d rather be prepared. But when you tried to grasp your badge, you realized it wasn’t there.

Law removed his hand from his pocket, letting your badge dangle from his fingers by the reel. You made a grab for it, but with a flick of his wrist, Law took the badge in his hand and pocketed it again.

“You can have it once you’ve left the building,” he said sternly.

And with those words, Law officially drove you to your limit. You slumped back in your seat. Your feet perched on the leg of your swivel chair as you glanced down at the floor. Your elbow leaned against the armrest to support the way you planted your forehead in your hand. You didn’t think you could put up a fight even if you tried.

“Why do you do this?” you breathed, your voice coming out weaker than you wanted. You hid your face in your hand, letting your stray hairs fall over your forehead. “You’re always interfering, and poking at me, and judging me and everything I do. I just want you to stop looking at me like that.”

Law didn’t move from where he leaned, his palms planted on the desk behind him.

“Looking at you like what?”

“Like I’m another one of your cases!” Your head snapped up to scowl at him. “I already had enough asshole doctors talking down to me before you decided to make me your pet project. And you know what? I can’t take it anymore! I’ve been trying to keep this entire department together with no help, no backup, no direction, or anything else! You don’t know what that’s like to have all this pressure on you with no help while everyone around you seems to have it out for you!”

And for a moment, Law didn’t say a thing. He stood still next to you, and you resented that he was still there. You were on the verge of breaking, and you were determined not to cry. You didn’t want to cry at work, and certainly not in front of Trafalgar Law, no matter what he’d said the day before.

When he finally spoke, he did so steadily and softly, “I know exactly what that’s like.”

The response surprised you, not just the sincerity of it all, but that Law of all people could possibly relate. You scoffed.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you muttered sarcastically.

“No, I’m quite serious,” Law responded, pushing off from where he leaned to come around behind you. He took hold of your shoulders, gently but deliberately guiding you back to sit up against the back of your chair. His touch was out of place, but clinical in a way that didn’t set you off. “It’s now I know that you don’t want encouragement. You don’t want help. You just want to stop thinking, don’t you?”

Law leaned over you, planting both hands on the back of your armrests. His chest pressed against the back of your seat. You looked up at the computer monitor in front of you.

It had timed out, showing your reflection in the black screen. You looked exhausted. Your clothes were a mess, and your hair was far from the neat style you had put it in to start your day. Your face looked drained, and your eyes lidded with fatigue. And the way Law seemed to dwarf you as he leaned over you didn’t escape your notice. But you sat still.

“I just want to be switched off…” you whispered. You sighed, leaning back as you felt the slightest bit of resistance where Law stood.

Law reached over you, plucking your water bottle from the side of your desk to hold in front of your face.

“Drink,” he said.

You looked at it for a moment, wondering if you had even cracked the thing open today. You took it from him, doing what you were told.

The sip shocked your system, and the next breath you took felt like just a fraction of the weight on you was lifted. Law watched you—studied you—through the dark monitor. A shadow flickered across his gaze.

“That’s it… That’s what you want,” he ruminated. You met his eye in the reflection of the monitor. “Not the water. The command.”

“Don’t make this into something it isn’t,” you muttered.

Law glanced down at you, dragging a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“If you tell me what you want—” He twirled the end of it around his finger. —” I’ll give it to you,” he cooed.

You brushed his hand away, lingering with his hand on top of yours. You watched the way his tattoos popped on the dark monitor, how his white coat appeared so clear as his form framed you. You basked in the feeling of his hand against yours, the movement of shooing him away halfheartedly.

You shook your head, casting your chin down as your skin burned. You felt vulnerable under his scrutiny. You always did.

“I—” you started, feeling your voice stall in your throat. You considered your following words, wanting nothing more than to spit them out. But heat radiated off you in waves, smoldering with frustration, embarrassment, and stress. You took a breath, eyes still cast downward. —“I won’t beg,” you asserted, almost inaudibly. “I won’t give you the satisfaction of you making me.”

“I don’t want you to beg,” Law countered, his voice as grounded as his touch felt. His hand slid under your chin, applying just enough deliberate pressure to raise your chin so that you could look at yourself in the reflection. “I want you to hand it over,” he said. “Let me make it stop for just a little bit.”

You brought your hand to his wrist, brushing your fingers up toward his forearm. His skin was firm, and the muscle under it even more taut. He spent so much time hiding under stylish button-ups, scrubs, and that damn white coat that you almost did a double-take. Law was already tall, but now that you had your hand on him, he was even bigger than you could’ve anticipated. Stronger.

You leaned your cheek into the palm that cupped your chin, letting your hair brush against the arm that hung down over your shoulder.

“Take it,” you breathed, closing your eyes, “I don’t want to think anymore.”

You whispered it like a wish. Like a prayer.

Because you didn’t care anymore. You were on the brink of collapse, and it didn’t matter that you and Law had been at each other’s throats since day one. It didn’t matter that the only thing that ever came out of his mouth was a snark. You didn’t even care about his picky attitude when it came to your work, or that he was an insufferable know-it-all who thought he knew you better than you knew yourself. It was because of it all.

Law read you before you even had to speak. Your work together in the cath lab was nothing short of mind-reading. And no matter how he pushed you, he always struck a nerve with the precision of an acupuncturist. He knew your boundaries better than you even wanted to admit to yourself.

It needed to be him.

And goddammit…

You trusted him completely.

Law spun your chair around, and when he kissed you, he did so like a man who’d been teetering on the knife’s edge of restraint. His hands cupped your face, his fingers tangling and messing up your already disorderly hair. You stood as he backed you toward the desk, clumsily kicking your chair out of the way as he forced you to sit. Law fumbled for the controls on the side panel, and the desk raised jerkily to bring you to a better height.

His lips were firm, and his scent seemed to completely envelop you. You couldn’t quite place the taste of his tongue, except that it was so undeniably him. His skin was cool to the touch by a micro degree or two. His hair was softer than you expected.

You wasted no time in sliding your hands under his coat. Law shrugged it off onto the floor, grabbing your hips and pulling you to the very edge of the desk. You wrapped your legs around his waist, fumbling with his tie as you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to loosen it or pull him closer. Law made the ultimate decision, recoiling back for just a moment to rip the tie loose, throwing it over his head and onto the floor before bringing his mouth to your neck.

His hand was under your shirt, palming your breast from under the cup of your bra. Your hands were clawing at the buttons of his white button down.

You ground against him, feeling the slick spot of your panties grow wetter and you arched your back as he sucked on a sensitive spot in your neck.

With an annoyed huff, Law tore your scrub top up over your head, reaching around your back to unclasp your bra with one hand. Everything was thrown to the floor. You had barely made it halfway down the line of buttons that bisected his chest.

Law’s mouth was back on your neck, biting the space just above the curve of your jaw and just below your ear. His fingers slipped below the waistband of your pants as you stared over his shoulder with unfocused eyes and parted lips at a random part of the ceiling.

“This is insane,” you panted, nearly seeing stars as his fingers set a brutal pace against your clit. You instinctively reached down to grab his wrist, but Law’s opposite hand pinned yours to the edge of your desk.

“You asked for this.” His mouth was directly against your ear. You almost flinched away from the deep rawness of it, your body already shaking from the merciless way he toyed with your sopping clit. “You said you wanted it, so don’t act shy now.”

His fingers slipped down, and two slid with ease into your soaked cunt, drawing a strangled cry from your throat. You were absolutely soaked, allowing him to thrust into you with ease. You clawed at the back of Law’s shirt, hardly able to contain the scream that escaped you.

He didn’t let up for a second, overwhelming your every nerve as he fucked his fingers into you, curling them to hit that delectably sensitive spot that had you seeing stars. You tried to spread your legs farther, but you were restrained by your scrub pants. You made a pathetic attempt to pull them off, but being so overwhelmed by the barrage against your nerves left you unable to even grasp your own waistband properly.

You whined as Law pulled his fingers out, causing a horrifyingly obscene wet noise to follow. He ripped your pants off you along with your ruined panties, spreading your thighs to plunge back into your sopping wet cunt.

The back of your head rolled against the wall behind you as his pace intensified. Your keyboard had been pushed off your desk. The monitors you did your work on were askew and stuck to your clammy skin.

Law’s opposite hand came to pin you down by the front of your pelvis, his thumb swirling sadistically over your clit. You slapped a hand over your mouth, your legs beginning to tremble as he hit that sweet spot over and over and over again. The wet noises that came from between your legs were humiliatingly loud.

“Law—!” you sobbed, feeling your own slick drip down your cunt and over your tight asshole. You could barely think. You could barely see straight. And Law didn’t even allow you one moment of reprieve from the way he set your nerves on fire. “I—I can’t…!” you stuttered.

You felt him grin against your temple. He pulled back, forcing you to meet his eye as he kept his unrelenting pace.

“Look at you,” he cooed, cupping the side of your face with his palm. His thumb ran lovingly over your cheek, then your bottom lip. “Not so smart now.” You hated how his laugh made your cunt ache.

The tension was building in your stomach like a knot, coiling pressure so intense you weren’t sure if you could handle it.

“All that attitude… Where is it, huh? You don’t have anything clever to say now, do you?” Law grinned, flicking your clit in a way that nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“It’s gone!” you gasped like you were struggling to keep your head above water. “Gone, it’s gone!”

“Yeah, it is,” Law purred, planting a light kiss on your temple. Your eyes were screwed shut, mouth agape as you shook. “Because your brain is useless. You’re mine to play with. You’ll never be in charge here. No, no, no… Not with me, you won’t. Isn’t that right?”

“Fuck—!” you moaned, feeling the pressure build within you. You clawed at him, scratched at your desk, tried to find something to brace yourself on. “Law— I—!”

“No, no,” Law chastised, hooking his thumb on the corner of your mouth. “You don’t get to use my name like that. Not after you’ve been running that mouth all over my goddamn clinic,” he growled. “You know what to say, baby. Be a good girl—”

“Sir—! Please!” you broke apart without another word of encouragement. “Please, let me, sir—”

“Cum on my fingers. I want you dripping all over your desk.”

He gave the command, and the dam inside you broke without another second. You clenched around him, biting down on the collar of his shirt as you choked back broken sobs. Law fingerfucked you through the high, keeping a slow but steady momentum as you recovered.

And when he spoke again, you could barely hear him.

“You have a condom, sweetheart?” he muttered. You could hear the clink of his belt.

You shook your head.

“It’s okay,” you panted, “I just need—”

Law grabbed the sides of your face from under your chin, tilting you up to look at him. You watched lazily as his eyes darted across your gaze, taking in his good work. The way your flyaways stuck to your forehead. Your already fucked out expression. He huffed a little chuckle, the corner of his lip raising in a smirk.

“I couldn’t possibly have fucked you dumb already,” he cooed, sliding the fingers that were just in your pussy into your mouth, staining your tongue with bitter musk.

You shook your head profusely.

“No, wait, I’m sure. Please.”

Law slipped his fingers from your mouth, an amused smirk still plastered to his lips. He looked at you like you were a marvel, glancing over you like you were a prey animal who just did a trick.

He grabbed you by the hips, spreading you open as the head of his cock pressed against your drenched folds. He leaned forward to speak into your ear again.

“You’re lucky I already looked in your chart.”

Law braced your hips, driving into you with one brutal thrust. Your walls stretched with a delicious soreness as you cried into his shoulder. Your hands balled up in the front of his open shirt. The rest of the buttons had been undone sometime within the haze of it all.

You threaded a hand at the root of his hair, pulling him forward to meet your lips as he drove into you. He grunted into your mouth, and the low, masculine noise sent shockwaves directly to your core. He kissed you deeper, tilting his nose as he fucked his thick length into you, swallowing the cries you let out.

You were so fucking full.

You shuttered, lips parted as Law stretched open, each snap of his hips stealing your voice from your throat. He pulled you against him, leaving no room to run from his strokes. His thumb came back to your clit, and the moment he applied pressure, you immediately pressed your hands against his chest. But even as you pushed, Law didn’t budge a bit, maintaining his ruthless pace.

It was becoming too much. You were vibrating. Seeing stars.

“You asked for this.” Law bit your earlobe, his voice ghosting the shell of your ear. You could feel the force of his consonants. “Don’t you dare forget it.”

He slammed into you harder, forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck. You let out choked, helpless moans into his collarbone as your legs threatened to give out.

Law shoved you back onto the desk, hands forcing your thighs wider. Your computer monitor rattled behind you, threatening to fall off the surface altogether. Your cup of pens had already spilled onto the floor, and miscellaneous items were swept away as you tried to find something else to hold onto.

“Look at you,” Law huffed. His eyes had long been overtaken by obsession. He grabbed you under your knee, forcing your leg higher and bullying even deeper into your overwhelmed pussy. “Can’t even take cock right without me holding you in place.” His chest puffed at the thought, a breathy laugh spilling from his lips.

“Fuck— No! Ah—! I can’t—!”

“Say it.” Law’s lips curled upward. His pupils were blown. “Say you can’t take it without me pinning you down.”

You trembled, his voice soaking you more than you wanted to admit.

“I need it…” you whined. “I need it—!”

Law’s smirk wavered for a moment. His fingers dug into the skin of your hips, keeping you angled and steady against his animalistic momentum.

“Not it,” he corrected, taking his hand from your hip momentarily to force your gaze to his. Law looked as desperate as you in his own way, jaw clenched and hair messy. “Me.”

You twitched around him, your walls squeezing despite your brain not registering what he was really saying.

“You! Please,” you sobbed, “Law, I need you—!”

“Good fucking girl.” Law slung your leg over his shoulder, his thrusts turning merciless as your back completely collapsed against the surface of your desk. Your hands wandered his forearms, finally having something to anchor yourself to. “You like this? You like when I fuck you stupid?”

“Yes!” you cried, your back arching.

One of Law’s hands went back to your clit.

“Yes, what?”

You gasped, glancing down at the way his thick cock drove into you and his tattooed fingers punishing your clit.

“Yes, sir!”

Law snarled, placing a kiss on the calf that sat on his collarbone. The desk shook under you. The pounding of the surface against the wall behind you was undeniable, and Law’s thrusts only grew more jagged and brutal.

“Say it again,” he commanded. You could feel the same pressure coiling in you.

“Yes, sir! I love when you fuck me stupid! Please—”

“Cream on my cock.”

Your mouth hung open as your release ripped through your body, but Law didn’t let up, letting you paw at his arms as he fucked you through the aftershocks.

Law didn’t last for long after, his strokes breaking rhythm as he drove into you. He pushed your leg by the underside of your knee again before spilling inside you, fucking hot, white cum into you. And he didn’t pull out, even as he slowly caught his breath, and you gradually came back to reality.

You let yourself deflate against the surface of your desk, all too aware of its sensation against your sweaty back. Your neck and hips were sore in several places. And Law was still over you, hands planted on either side of your head as he stared down. You met his golden eyes with your tired ones.

He was flushed, his hair messy, his shirt undone and wrinkled, yet still rolled up to his elbows. He was still bottomed out inside of you, stretching you out in a way you were sure you’d feel for the rest of the night. As if you wouldn’t feel the rest of what you’d just done.

But overall, he looked much the same. His face was almost as neutral as always, save for the glint of something in his curious eyes that you didn’t have the brain power to dissect even if you wanted to.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt him rise from where he had hunched over you.

You swallowed.

“We did not just do that…” you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.

Law traced the spot on your neck he’d been sucking on earlier, his words almost absentminded, “You handed it over,” he said with little thought, “And I finished in you.”

Your chest puffed in a laugh.

He said it so… matter-of-factly.

The motion caused you to drench Law’s length more than you already had, his sticky fluid seeping out from around his cock and down his balls.

You were going to have to get creative with the cleanup. At least something to hold you over until you got home. A weekend would go by until you saw him again. A whole weekend.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII

Glossary for Nerds

Tag List: @aveocadeo @augustanna @starzbrii @sporkslol @r3nstar @chillerkiller @weepingjudgediplomatbasketb-blog @notbleachtea @yunloyal @valval08 @qui-sap @vilemint @all-mights-wife @breakingthebank13

In the rhythm of the "wack" meme: No age in bio, no tag! Minor, no tag (MINORS DNI ANYWAY)! No series interaction, no tag!

NOTES: I'm thinking a goal of 275 notes might give me time to write the next chapter AND get something else out. That, or if I happen to get 2-3 chapters ready. Whatever happens first.

Also, I was thinking to myself "is it really a slow burn if they have sex this quick?" and then I realized it's been 50k words I think I'm safe hahahahahaha... ha. haha... i'm losing it

ALSO ALSO Thank you all for continuing to be awesome and respectful.

#law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar x reader #op x reader #x reader #x you #reader insert #one piece x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar op #trafalgar d law x reader #fic: gsbid #fic: God Spelled Backwards is D-O-C-T-O-R

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