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therealmrsgojo · 7 months

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Timeless

pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: you have been dreaming of a man ever since you were little; different lives with him were spent in your dreams, but when you wake up, his face becomes blurry, and you forget his name. maybe, in your real life, you might see him too. warnings: past lives, reincarnation au, kinda inspired by a song called timeless, soldier gojo, captain gojo, doctor reader, mentions of injuries, dreams, death, angst, comfort, and happy ending. word count: 10.5k

"I know that you and I would've found each other In another life, you still would've turned my head."

Present day

Sitting in the hospital break room, you let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of your exhaustion.

The walls around you are stark white, and you lean back in your chair, cradling your third cup of coffee for the day. Despite the caffeine coursing through your veins, you can't shake off the fatigue that has settled into your bones.

Still holding your coffee, you trudge the hallway toward the restroom, your feet dragging on the tiles. You're grateful for the brief respite, a chance to relieve yourself, and take a moment to collect your thoughts.

You entered the restroom, and you glanced at yourself in the large mirror above the sink.

"What a sight you are." You can't help but chuckle at your unkempt hair, crumpled collar, and slightly moist eyes that beg for rest. You quickly run your fingers through your hair, trying to smooth it down and look presentable.

As a third-year general surgery resident at the prestigious University of Tokyo Hospital, you know that exhaustion is par for the course. Your days are filled with evaluating patients, obtaining medical histories, performing physical examinations, and assisting in surgeries.

In spite of the exhaustion and doubts that creep into your mind, you remember that one gratitude from a patient can make it all worth it.

Helping people has always had your heart in it.

You finished using the restroom and washed your hands at the sink, cleaning rigorously. After drying your hands, you grabbed your coffee cup and sipped the last bit of your warm beverage before disposing it in the nearby trash bin.

Exiting the restroom, you checked the time on your watch and realized with dismay that you had been working tirelessly for 14 straight hours. Your mind and body begged for rest.

Sighing deeply, you called it a day and reached for your smartphone to text your colleague about your departure. You made your way towards the rest areas of your residency building, eager to collapse on one of the double deck beds.

Entering the rest area, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of the inviting beds that you had been dreaming of all day. You remove your top shirt, knowing no one is around to see you and replace it with fresh clothes from your mini drawer.

After removing your shoes, you crawl onto the soft mattress and let out a small laugh of contentment.

"Fucking finally." You stretched your limbs and pulled the blanket over your body, feeling the softness of the fabric against your skin. You close your eyes and let out a deep breath, feeling the day's stress slowly melt away as you drift off to sleep.

1944

The morning was calm and peaceful, with warm kisses pressed onto your skin, creating a sense of comfort and safety. You could feel your husband's hands roaming around your waist as he whispered sweet promises on your skin.

Slowly waking up from your slumber, you reached out to the hands holding your waist, sensing something amiss.

"Satoru, what's wrong?" Your worried voice asked as you looked at the man hugging you as if it were the end of the world.

"Just hugging my beautiful wife," he replied with a smile as he moved closer to you, kissing your lips lovingly and slowly. You gazed at him, seeing his white hair and piercing blue eyes that always made your heart ache with love and longing.

As the kiss ended, you whispered, "It's today, isn't it?" His smile faltered, and you could sense the anxiety and fear in his eyes.

It was today, the day your husband was to be deployed to the war. You felt a churn in your stomach as you remembered all the stories of the horrors of war and the uncertainty of whether he would return home alive or not.

You avoided his gaze, afraid that he would see the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You knew you needed to be strong in front of him, to support him and lift his spirits. You didn't want him to be stressed or distracted on the war front, as that would be the last thing he needed.

"Sweetheart," he said, his voice low and soft, "Can we hug more before we get out of our bed? I wouldn't mind being late today if that means I get to be with you more."

Without a word, you nodded and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly. You looked into his eyes and said, "I love you."

"I love you too, (Y/N)," he replied, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

Minutes that felt like seconds passed, and before you knew it, your husband was walking away from the porch of your home. You watched him leave as you stood on the porch of your home, cradling your hands to your chest.

It was hard to hold back your tears as you watched him walk away, the distance between you growing with each step.

But then, Satoru turned back, looking at you with a pained expression. Without hesitation, he ran back to you and tightly wrapped his arms around you. You sobbed, feeling his tears fall on your shoulders.

"I promise to get back home as soon as possible, okay? Don't be too sad. I promise I'll come back to you. We'll see each other again, every time. You wait for me," he said, his voice cracking with emotion as he cupped your face as if trying to memorize your features.

He kissed away your tears and continued, "I'll write you letters so you won't get too lonely."

You nodded, feeling a mixture of love and sadness in your heart. "Take care of yourself, Satoru. I'll wait for your return," you said softly, holding him close.

Kisses were exchanged, hands were tangled in each other's hair as the two of you promised to see each other again. It was a bittersweet moment, but you knew your love would endure, no matter how far apart you were.

As time flew by, days turned into weeks, which then transformed into months, marking the most prolonged duration you had ever been separated from your husband since your marriage.

The distance between you both seemed unbearable, and the only way to stay connected was through letters sent back and forth. Every word written in these letters was crafted with the utmost care and love as both of you poured your hearts out on the paper.

Gojo Satoru took every opportunity to share the most minor details with you, expressing his love and longing for you.

You developed a daily routine of reading his letters, savoring each and every word as if it were a vital source of oxygen. The mere act of holding those pieces of paper in your hands and tracing your fingers over his familiar handwriting brought you a sense of comfort that nothing else could.

It was as though your heart could only find solace in the assurance that he was still out there; he's alive in the middle of the war, thinking of you and missing you just as much as you missed him.

Letters that can soothe the ache in your chest.

I can't even begin to describe how much I miss you, my dear wife. Every single day, from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to bed, you're on my mind. I think about the way you laugh, the way you smile, the way you move, the way you talk, the way you love. You are the most important person in my life, and I cherish every moment we've spent together. I know we're apart right now, but please know that my love for you is as strong as ever. I hope to see you soon, hold you, kiss you, and tell you how much you mean to me. You are the light of my life, my light in this war. I love you more than words can express, and I can't wait to be with you again.

As you finish reading the final lines of the latest letter you received, you can't help but feel a warm glow spread across your chest. You place the letter on your bedside table, making a mental note to write back tomorrow and express how much you appreciate their words.

With a contented sigh, you reach for your comb and carefully work out the tangles and knots in your hair. The rhythmic motion of the combing is soothing, and you feel yourself growing more and more relaxed as you prepare for bed.

After caring for your hair, you finally finished and decided to call it a night. You tossed and turned around the bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but to no avail.

A deep frown formed on your face as you kept your eyes closed, hoping that sleep would eventually come.

You let out a deep breath, slowly opening your eyes to find that your husband's side of the bed is empty. Your heart sank as you stared at the vacant space beside you, looking bare and empty.

You try to shake off the feeling, but it persists, and you find yourself unable to look away from his spot.

After several minutes of staring at the bed, you finally pull yourself out of it and walk to the closet. You start digging through your husband's clothes, searching for something that still carries his scent.

Finally, you find one of his shirts and hold it up to your nose, taking a deep breath.

The familiar scent of his envelops you; tears start streaming down your face as you clutch the shirt to your chest, whispering silent prayers for your husband's safety. You sob into the shirt, longing to be with him and wishing that he was there to hold you to sleep.

You were only able to sleep, hugging his clothes tightly on your chest.

Another month passed, and you found yourself walking back to your humble abode, a basket full of fresh produce tightly clutched in your hands. The sun began to set, and the sky was painted with hues of orange and pink.

You smiled as you thought about the meal you would prepare for your husband, Satoru, later that evening.

You received a letter from him just last week informing you that he would return home today after being finally discharged from the war.

Standing in the kitchen, you were determined to prepare the dish to perfection, having the recipe memorized like the back of your hand. You carefully measured the ingredients, double-checking each one to ensure everything was just right. As you stirred the pot, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and satisfaction at the sight of the fragrant steam rising from the mixture.

You knew your husband deserved the best and were determined to give him just that.

With each passing moment, your anticipation grew as you imagined his face with his bright blue eyes, knowing he would like this delicious meal he craved from his letters.

The savory aroma of your cooking wafted through the entire kitchen as you put the finishing touches on the plates and set them on the dining table.

Everything was ready; all that was left to do was wait for your significant other to arrive.

You walked over to the living room and positioned yourself near the front door, where you could see and hear anyone approaching. You checked the time and noticed that it was getting late. You couldn't help but wonder if he would be later than usual.

As the hours ticked by, the darkness of the night seemed to grow heavier, food forgotten and cold as your anxiety began to mount.

You waited patiently, but worry was evident on your face. You found yourself staring at the clock, hoping to see his arrival soon.

The minutes turned into hours, and your eyes grew heavy as you sat alone, waiting for him to arrive.

Eventually, you couldn't keep your eyes open any longer and decided to rest, thinking that his knock would wake you up.

You were startled by a series of loud knocks on your door. Your eyes fluttered open just in time to catch a glimpse of the bright sunshine peeking through your curtains.

You realized that you had slept through the entire night, and it was morning.

Feeling a sudden rush of excitement, you quickly got out of the couch and dashed towards the door, a wide grin spreading across your face. You were unfazed by the delay. All that mattered was that your husband had finally arrived.

You opened the door, and a tall and muscular man with long black hair partially tied up in a man bun greeted you.

Your smile faded, and your heart sank as you realized he was not who you were hoping for.

"Good morning, I'm looking for Gojo Y/N," he said softly.

"I am Gojo Y/N," you answered, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. You wondered who this man was and why he was looking for you.

He then started to search his backpack, and you finally took notice of his clothes. It was no doubt that he was in the military, judging by the clothes he wore. He wore a green camouflage shirt and pants and a black tactical backpack slung over one shoulder.

Finally, he pulled out an envelope and a dog tag, which he held out to you. Your heart began to race as you saw the familiar handwriting on the envelope - it was your husband's.

"What?" You took the items with your trembling hands, muttering, "What is this?"

Your mind had some understanding, but your heart refused to believe.

"We were on our way back when a sudden explosion took place. It occurred from the military truck he was riding with. Despite our efforts, we couldn't find survivors or even bodies. It was a devastating experience that left us shaken and heartbroken." He started, eyes looking down as he continued, "I am sorry for your loss -"

"Stop," you interrupted him firmly, lips quivering with emotion, "Please stop."

He looked at you with a mixture of sorrow and concern. "I'm Geto Suguru," he introduced himself, his voice gentle. "Tomorrow, we will be holding a memorial for them, even if we don't have the remains. You can find me there if you go. I'm sure Satoru wouldn't like for you to be alone. He would hate me if that happened." He paused momentarily, adding, "I'll come back and check on you. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Leave," you said, your voice shaking with emotion. You didn't have the strength to look at him, so you turned around and closed the door loudly.

You took heavy steps towards the bedroom, feeling the weight of your grief crushing down on you. As you entered the room, you sank to the ground, the letter still clutched tightly in your hand.

You began to hyperventilate, your chest heaving with sobs as you struggled to catch your breath. You let out a loud, piercing scream, the pain and anger in your heart bursting forth. You threw the letter to the ground and shouted curses into the empty room, your hands gripping your hair tightly as you rocked back and forth.

"You're a liar!" Tears streamed down your face as you shouted, consumed by the overwhelming heartache and anguish that had taken hold of you.

Reading that letter would mean accepting his death, and you refused to do so.

You cried uncontrollably for hours, hugging yourself tightly as if to protect yourself from the harsh reality. Your face was puffy and red from all the tears you shed as you called out for your husband's name, wishing this was all a dream.

But deep down, you knew he wouldn't come back. If only you had known, you would have never gone to the trouble of cooking his favorite meal, fixing his clothes, preparing his bath, or smoothing the side of his bed.

Now, all you have is you, sitting amidst the dark walls of your home and the weight of misery that surrounds you. It's a deep grief that seems to envelop you like a heavy blanket that you can't escape from.

The only sounds you can hear are the sobs escaping your lips and the breath you no longer want to take. You look around, taking in the familiar surroundings that, once filled with hope that he would return as he promised you, are now unattainable and shattered.

A sense of heaviness seems to saturate every corner of the room, leaving you feeling adrift and detached from the world outside.

As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, time seemed to slip away unnoticed. Before you knew it, the sun had set, and darkness enveloped the room.

You realized with a start that you had been sitting in the same spot for hours, unmoving, ever since you received the devastating news about your husband.

Your mind was racing with a million thoughts and emotions, and you felt utterly paralyzed by the weight of it all.

As you looked around, you noticed the letter your husband had left on the ground, still untouched. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you were ready to face whatever was written inside. But then you took a deep breath and made up your mind to read it.

Slowly, you reached for the letter, fingers trembling with anticipation and anxiety.

As you unfolded the paper, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over you as you saw your name first.

My dearest Y/N, If you are reading this letter, it means that I have departed from this world, my wife. But I have not left you. I could never leave you alone, not even for a moment. I would never do that to you. I want you to remember that my love for you will never die, not even in our next life. I will carry it with me always, wherever I go. As a soldier, I am aware of the risks involved in every mission, and I write this letter to you with a heavy heart that I can barely breathe, hoping that you will never have to read this, and if you do, please forgive me. The time we spent together was the best years of my life, and I cherish every memory we created. When you came into my life, heaven had opened its gates for me. Knowing you was the most incredible honor I could ever have. Even if gold or silver is placed on my grave, nothing will ever compare to the love you've given me. I don't have any major regrets in my life, but if there is one thing that I wish I could have done differently, it's that I wasn't able to give you the gift of a family. I know that having children was important to you, and it hurts me deeply that I wasn't able to make that happen for us. I hope you can forgive me for not being able to fulfill this dream of ours. I am scared, Y/N, scared that you will not take care of yourself, scared that you will forget about me. Please promise me that you will care for yourself and live a long and happy life. I do not want you to worry about me or grieve for too long, for I will always be with you, watching over you. Please always remember that I love you more than anything in this world. I promise I'll return to you, and we'll find each other again in our next life. You can count on that. You can rely on that. I could write endless letters, but I don't want to cause you any more pain. Please know I'll always be with you; I will keep my promise. Your husband, Gojo Satoru PS: I know that we will meet again, my wife.

You feel a tremble in your hands as you finish reading the letter your husband wrote to you. Tears flow down your cheeks despite the pain that it causes your eyes, as you have been crying for hours.

You hold his letter tightly against your chest, whimpering your husband's name as you take shallow breaths. The words he wrote to you are etched deeply into your heart and soul, as they are the last you will ever hear from him.

Gojo Satoru had loved you until his very last breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, 'Toru," you croak out, sobbing uncontrollably as you whisper apologies like a mantra that could somehow bring your husband back to life.

You regret calling him a liar earlier, and you wish that you nothing but take back those words.

Present

You suddenly opened your eyes, whines leaving your lips and the heaviness in your chest. You were crying.

Confused and disoriented, you looked around the room and noticed Shoko, your colleague resident doctor, sitting beside you. She had a startled expression, but she was doing her best to gently comfort you by patting your back.

You knew you must have been dreaming again, but the details were hazy and blurry. It was strange and unsettling, like you had just awakened from a different reality.

Trying to recall the details of the dream, you realized that it was vivid, but you couldn't remember everything.

"I'm sorry I woke you up, Y/N. You have been crying and trashing in your sleep." Shoko gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Another weird dream of yours?" She added, giving you a bottled water.

You nod in agreement, feeling a bit dizzy. Shoko was your childhood friend whom you have known since grade school. She had been the person you had confided in about your strange and unsettling dreams for as long as you could remember.

You took a sip of water and tried to gather your thoughts. "This time, he was a soldier, and he, he died," you muttered, barely able to articulate the jumbled images that had been plaguing you. "God, I swear I can see his face and say his name in my dreams, but it's all blurred now."

Shoko nodded sympathetically, her expression one of concern. "This has been going on since we were kids, Y/N," she replied, her voice gentle and soothing. "I remember the last time you cried like that, was when you told me about that white-haired man and how you ran away together because you were supposed to marry another man." She paused for a moment, searching for the right words. "I suggested that you seek help, maybe from a dream interpreter or something."

You take a few moments to regain your composure and try to piece together what happened.

The memories of your past dreams rushed back to you, and you were sure it had been the same man you had never met before.

"I don't really have the time for that right now. I can barely manage to go home and visit my mom," you replied, gripping your hair in frustration. Your best friend then stood up to take off her lab coat.

"I also researched some things about that," Shoko said, trying to reassure you. "It can be your past life or past memory."

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. "I think I'm going insane," you muttered, entirely overwhelmed by the situation.

Your best friend chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Yeah, that's another possibility, too," she said. "Especially since you've never even had a boyfriend at the age of twenty-five. You're a hopeless romantic, my friend."

You couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. You had tried to put yourself out there, going on blind dates and meeting new people, but nothing ever seemed to stick. You just couldn't seem to fall in love, no matter how hard you tried.

And now, with these dreams, you felt even more lost.

"I feel like I'll betray him if I did," you mumbled to yourself, feeling guilty for even considering the possibility of falling in love with someone else. You knew it was irrational, but the thought of being with anyone else didn't sit right with you.

You glanced at Shoko and wished her a quick goodbye, knowing that she was going to take some rest now. You then got up from bed, feeling refreshed after a good six-hour sleep.

You walked over to your assigned drawer and picked out all the necessary items; you went to the bathroom to shower.

The warm water cascaded down your body, washing away all the tiredness and exhaustion from your mind. As you finished your shower, you quickly dried yourself off and got into the fresh set of clothes you had picked earlier. You then took a moment to dry your hair and put some moisturizer on your face to keep it hydrated throughout the day. Lastly, you applied a thin layer of pink lipgloss, ensuring your lips were soft and supple.

After getting ready, you checked your phone and saw a few notifications reminding you of your daily responsibilities.

With a deep breath, you set out to tackle the day head-on, feeling energized and motivated to fulfill all your duties.

You made your way down the hospital's long hallway, and your footsteps echoed through the corridor. You straightened the collar of your white lab coat, feeling the cool fabric against the back of your neck.

Approaching a corner, you saw two nurses chatting quietly to each other behind the information table. Nobara, one of the nurses, noticed you and greeted you with a warm smile.

"Good morning, Dr. Y/N!" she exclaimed, holding a folder towards you. "Here are the files for the patients you'll be doing morning check-ups on today."

You took the folder and smiled back at Nobara, appreciating her enthusiastic attitude. You flipped through the pages, taking note of any potential issues or concerns.

The hospital loudspeaker blared out, "Code Blue, Code Blue! All available doctors, nurses, and medical staff near the emergency room are needed. Code Blue." It was a clear indication that something serious had happened that required the attention of all medical personnel in the vicinity.

Without wasting time, you quickly handed your folder to Nobara, who stashed it away and promptly moved to join you. The two of you rushed to the emergency bay, and as soon as you arrived, your eyes widened in shock as you saw a chaotic scene; medical personnel were running around, attending to the patients.

Stretchers were being hurriedly moved around, and people rushed around the hospital room in a frenzy.

As you tried to take in the situation, a first-year resident named Maki called you, "Dr. Y/N, there has been a shooting incident, and we were instructed to apply first aid as soon as possible." Her voice was filled with urgency, and you knew that time was of the essence.

"Got that, Maki. Nobara, please gather some supplies." You immediately got to work, assessed the situation, and walked towards the patient nearest to you.

You heard Nobara's footsteps approaching; she quickly laid out all the necessary medical supplies beside you. Your focus was solely on the patient before you, and you worked with precision and care as you began cleaning the wounded area. The nurse beside you looked on in amazement as she watched you work.

"Dr. Y/N, I must say, I have never seen someone work as swiftly and diligently as you do," she mumbled in awe, her voice filled with admiration. You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle in response before turning your attention back to your patient.

After skillfully completing the stitching procedure on your patient, you took a minute to ensure everything was perfectly in place.

You then carefully removed your medical gloves, disposing of them safely while relaying crucial information regarding the next steps your patient needs.

"Help! My captain needs help, anyone please!" You suddenly heard a panicked voice calling out. You turned around to see a man with pink hair, dressed in a green military uniform, running towards you with a look of desperation on his face.

He then grabbed your wrists and pulled you towards one of the bed stretchers in the hospital.

You gently removed his hands from your wrists and asked, "What happened? How can I help?" The man was panting heavily, and it took a moment for him to compose himself. He explained, "My captain needs help urgently. He's been injured protecting me, and I think he stopped breathing. I don't know what to do."

You quickened your pace upon hearing his explanation, and as you approached the scene, you caught a glimpse of his captain lying on a stretcher, looking pale and in pain.

But as you moved closer, your eyes widened in shock as you recognized the white-haired man lying on the stretcher, the same man who had been evading your dreams ever since you were little.

Throughout your life, this man has appeared in your dreams, eluding your grasp and leaving you with a sense of longing and curiosity. He has also been a constant presence in your thoughts, occupying your mind as you go about your daily life.

When you were in high school, you found yourself drawing him in the back of your notebooks, trying to capture his essence on paper.

There were times when you even cried over him, missing him despite never having met or even knowing his name.

This man has left an indelible mark on your heart and soul; now he is in front of you, unmoving and not breathing.

"No, no, no." The memories of your last dreams played in your head, making you panic, and your breaths became labored as a surge of panic engulfed your body, causing you to tremble uncontrollably.

Suddenly, Nobara's voice called out your name, breaking you out of your trance. "Dr. Y/N! Are you okay? He's not breathing," she said, noticing your distress, as she sat beside the man.

You immediately sprang into action, shouting orders frantically, "Step back, now! Get the Defibrillator and ECG Machine, immediately. Call for a cardiac doctor, too."

You quickly propped yourself on the man's bed, removing his pillow to flatten his body. Your hands pressed down on his chest as you began giving him chest compressions, counting 30 on your head while taking notice of his face.

You weren't mistaken. It was him. How could you ever forget his face?

Tears welled up in your eyes as you continued with the chest compressions, making sure the steps were precise and accurate. Nobara returned a moment later, quickly followed by one of the cardiac doctors named Utahime, who placed the medical equipment on the body of the white-haired man. But your focus remained on the compressions as you ignored everything else.

Utahime noticed the sweat on your forehead and offered to take over, "Dr. Y/N, I can take over." But you shook your head, "No. Start working with the Defibrillator, please. I'm almost done."

You and Utahime worked together, following the necessary steps to revive the man. The minutes seemed like an eternity as you could barely breathe due to nervousness.

Finally, you heard his heartbeat back in the monitor beside you. You stared at him, your hands shaking lightly as you finally calmed down.

One medical staff wheeled the captain into one of the rooms, and Utahime turned to you, "Do you know him? Don't worry; he is in good hands. We'll do everything we can to help. Everything is under control now. You can take a rest."

You fulfilled your other responsibilities, your mind remained preoccupied with thoughts of the white-haired man you had encountered. Despite the passage of time, he continued to linger in your thoughts. His face kept flashing in your eyes.

Throughout the day, Utahime informed you about the man's condition, providing updates on his progress as he received medical attention.

You expressed your gratitude to her for keeping you in the loop, and she promised to let you know as soon as he woke up from his unconscious state.

"Y/N," you were startled by Shoko's arrival, "You haven't eaten, have you? I heard you helped with the emergency earlier, too. Come on, let's eat." She said.

You nodded wordlessly, following your friend to the cafeteria. As she ordered, Shoko noticed that your eyes were fixed on the ground, and you kept sighing. Sensing that something was troubling you, she asked, "What's wrong? Tell me."

You hesitated at first, not knowing how to convey your thoughts. You finally took another deep breath and said, "I don't know if you'll believe me, but I met him earlier." You sighed, feeling a heavy weight in your chest as memories of him flooded again in your mind.

Shoko looked at you quizzically and asked, "Who?" You looked back at her, not knowing how to answer when you didn't even know the man's name. It took a few minutes for her to understand, but when she did, she let out a loud screech of shock and shouted your name. "What? What's his name? Where is he? What happened!?" she asked, her hands shaking your shoulders.

Shoko's expression softened as she saw the tears welling up in your eyes. "Oh, I see," she said empathetically. "How can you be sure that it's him? What are your plans, honey?"

"It's him, Shoko," you said, feeling your voice shake a little. "I can't believe that I even forgot his face. But I don't know. I feel like I should not approach him at all. I would sound like an insane person if I ever did."

She sighed and said, "Who said you need to tell him immediately? You can just drop by and say hello. Let fate play out on its own, Y/N. You don't need to do anything about it."

You smiled at your best friend, grateful for her advice and carefree attitude that you needed. You spent the rest of the meal together, describing him to her and enjoying each other's company.

You were bidding farewell to Shoko outside the hospital cafeteria when she received an urgent call for her assistance in surgery.

You watched her quickly approach the operating room while you headed toward the elevator to check on one of your patients. As you approached the nurses' station, you noticed a familiar figure - a man with distinctive pink hair, eyes scanning the area intently as if searching for someone specific.

He was the pink-haired boy who asked for your help. As you approached him, you noticed his anxious expression and asked, "Sir, is everything okay?"

He seemed taken aback momentarily before gathering himself and responding, "Oh, there you are, Miss Doctor! I was looking for you." He scratched his head awkwardly and continued, "I just want to thank you personally for saving my captain. We owe it all to you." He bowed deeply, his gratitude palpable.

You smiled warmly at him and patted his shoulders when he stood straight again. "Thank you for acting so quickly. Your help made it possible for us to save him."

The boy beamed, a light flush rising in his cheeks. "Thank you again, Dr. He's very important to us all," he said earnestly.

You were intrigued by his words and asked him to elaborate. "Really?"

The boy looked surprised by your question and answered, "Yes. Tell me anything you want, and we'll try to do it for you in return."

"Well, do you mind telling me his name?" you asked shyly, your eyes avoiding his gaze as you gripped your coat.

"Huh? Um, yeah, he's our captain, Gojo Satoru," the boy replied, looking at you curiously.

Gojo Satoru.

When he spoke the name, you felt a jolt of recognition run through you. It was a name you had never heard before, but you couldn't quite place it where. It felt familiar as if you had muttered that name countless times before.

"Does, does he have blue eyes?" Your voice was barely above a whisper as you struggled to control your emotions.

The man across from you tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Yes," he finally answered, his tone growing more puzzled by the second. "Why do you ask?"

Feeling your heart thump back in your chest, you replied quickly, "Just, just because. I better be going now. I have some work to do." You turned around to start walking away, your mind racing about what could happen if you stayed.

However, before you could get too far, the young boy's voice cut through the silence. "Doctor! Once he wakes up, please pay us a visit! So he can thank you too in person." You kept walking, answering him in silence.

You had faced challenging surgeries and worked consecutive shifts in the hospital, but the thought of seeing him again in his awakened state sent shivers down your spine. You didn't know if you had the strength to face him.

It was as if you weren't wishing to meet him throughout your life, wondering if he would love you as he did in your dreams.

The day ended, and you left your workplace and walked home to your apartment, which was located nearby. You were looking forward to your rest day, scheduled for tomorrow.

Utahime texted you in the morning to inform you that Gojo Satoru had finally woken up, letting you know there would be no complications.

You spent the day resting, finding it difficult to sleep as your thoughts kept returning to the white-haired man.

You were scared that he might not even spare you a second glance, and you felt a sense of helplessness as you wondered about the possibility of him being discharged from the hospital quickly.

This could mean you would lose the chance to meet him again and be left in the dark about his whereabouts.

Despite your fears, you found yourself walking back to the hospital in the afternoon, unable to resist the urge to catch a glimpse of him, even if he was far away.

You felt a mix of emotions - hope, fear, and uncertainty - as you tried to calm your nerves and prepare yourself for whatever lay ahead.

Let fate play out on its own, Y/N.

You arrived at the hospital, and friendly staff greeted you warmly when they saw you. You explained that you were just there to retrieve something you had forgotten from the doctor's resting quarters.

Your nerves didn't stop you from walking on autopilot, your feet carrying you toward the private room where he was supposedly resting.

You longed to see his face, hear his voice, and just to see him again.

When you approached the room, you noticed the door was slightly ajar, and you could hear laughter and voices coming from within.

You were about to leave when a familiar voice called out your name, and you turned to see a pink-haired boy beaming at you. He was holding a brown bag filled with snacks, and a dark-haired boy stood beside him, nodding at you in acknowledgment.

"Miss doctor!" the boy exclaimed. "Did you come to visit us? He's awake now, too."

"I just happened to be passing by, dear. I'm sorry to disturb you," you replied, trying to keep your voice calm.

You turned your gaze back to the private room and noticed the door was now open wide, and the people inside had heard your conversation. Your eyes widened as you finally saw Gojo Satoru, the man you had been thinking about all day.

He looked at you with his cerulean blue eyes, witnessing your conversation with the pink-haired boy; his white hair was slightly unkempt, and his skin glowing as the sun reflected off it.

His head was slightly tilted as he inspected your face, and he looked ethereal.

You were so lost in his gaze that your background blurred, and it was as if the two of you were in your own little world. It took some time before he finally spoke out, "Yuuji."

You broke the staring contest you had with him and felt a rush of blood to your chest as you avoided his gaze. "Come on, let me introduce you," Yuuji said, holding your elbow and guiding you into the hospital room.

As you walked into the room, you noticed that the people with whom Gojo Satoru was laughing earlier excused themselves before you came in. You cleared your throat awkwardly and noticed that Satoru was still looking at you with curiosity in his eyes.

"Captain! This is the doctor I told you about. Be nice, she's your savior!" Yuuji exclaimed while laughing. He put down the brown bag he was holding on the nearby table.

Satoru was surprised and said, "Hello. Nice to meet you, and thank you for everything, Doctor." He gave you a small smile, grateful as his eyes memorized your face.

"It's good to see you up," you mentioned while returning a small smile. You fiddled with your fingers as your heartbeat became louder in your chest, finding it hard to keep eye contact with him.

"Megumi and I have been looking for you, Miss Doctor, since the captain woke up," Yuuji interjected, mentioning the black-haired boy beside him, whom you realized was Megumi.

"It's actually my day off every Sunday. I just needed to stop by to get some things," you countered, explaining your civilian clothes. "And you can call me Dr. Y/N; just Y/N is fine, too. Whichever you prefer."

The pink-haired boy laughed, and a blush crept on his cheeks as he told the efforts Megumi and he made to find you. His stories made you laugh, especially when you learned that Nobara scolded them for accidentally entering the nurses' resting room.

"We aren't hogging you, are we?" Satoru's voice cut you off, and he added, "Since it's your rest day, you should be resting. I apologize if Yuuji disturbed you." His stare observed your reaction.

"Oh no, not at all; I'm about to leave anyway." You bowed, embarrassed.

"Thank you again, Dr. Y/N. Let me know if I can do anything for you." He softly spoke, giving you another sweet smile.

"You can return the favor by not letting me see you in that state again, Satoru." To your surprise, he seemed to be taken aback when you mentioned his name, and you noticed his eyes widen and mouth agape lightly as he watched your face.

Yuuji and Megumi stood frozen at the interaction. It was their first time seeing their captain be speechless as he was the one to give snide remarks. But now, they were surprised to see the stoic man seem enchanted when you mentioned his name.

You were the first to break eye contact, bidding farewell as you quickly stepped out of the room without glancing back.

Walking into the hallway of the hospital, you found your eyes become wet with tears; spilling out of your eyes without your consent. Sobs that you were stopping made your lips quiver.

Your hands balled into fists with sadness and frustration, preventing yourself to have a mental break down out in the public space.

You have faced countless uphill battles during your life, ranging from witnessing some of the most gruesome injuries to undergoing the most complex surgical procedures.

Despite all of the challenges you have encountered, you have never before felt as vulnerable as you do now.

You thought it was the end. You would never see him again. When you mentioned his name, he seemed taken aback, and you thought he might see you as a creep that snoops around patient records. You were not even his attending doctor. You were not his friend, not his girl, not his betrothed, not his wife.

You are not the girl he loved timeless in different timelines, like what your dreams showed you.

You were just a mere doctor who happened to be near when his heart stopped, doing what's expected to treat patients. You are a stranger to him.

Standing inside the empty elevator, the silence seemed to amplify the weight of your emotions. The sobs that have been welling up inside you break free, echoing off the walls of the elevator and filling the air with your anguish.

You felt alone and overwhelmed; the moment's solitude only added to your desolation.

The feeling of being trapped in the small metal box only heightened your anxiety, and you longed for the doors to open and release you from the suffocating confines of the elevator.

It was a painful reminder that sometimes, no matter how much you prayed for something, it's just not meant to be.

You couldn't help feeling a void in your chest as you stepped out, wiping your tears with the sleeves of your clothes, knowing that life is not a fairytale, and dreams will remain just that - dreams.

One week after

In the aftermath of your encounter with Gojo Satoru, you decided to avoid him at all costs and made sure to steer clear of his designated room in the hospital.

Your days quickly became repetitive and monotonous as you focused on your hospital duties and tried to keep your distance from him.

One day, as you were walking outside the cafeteria, you bumped into Yuuji, who greeted you warmly and tried to strike up a conversation. However, you were quick to end it, explaining that you had a lot of tasks to do.

You didn't want to risk getting too close to anyone close to him.

The vivid dreams that had been a constant presence in your life disappeared since your encounter with Gojo Satoru. Although you had once wished for them to stop, they had become a source of comfort and solace for you in your darkest nights, reminding you that someone out there might have loved you in your past lives.

The thought of never having a chance to say goodbye to those dreams was haunting, and you found yourself grieving for them.

It was like letting go of a cherished friend without being able to say goodbye.

Sharing your recent encounter with your best friend, Shoko, she enveloped you in a warm and tight embrace that made you feel safe and secure. Her brown hair tickled your face as she whispered reassuringly that she was always there for you, no matter what. The feeling of her support and care lifted a weight off your shoulders.

Your final shift of the week ended; all you wanted to do was go home, slip into something comfortable, and unwind in the peace and quiet of your own space.

You politely declined Shoko's invitation to hit the town for some drinks, letting her know you needed time alone to gather your thoughts and reflect on the week that had just passed.

"I'm going home now, see you." You bid goodbye to your Nobara, who waved back at you with a happy smile.

"Get some rest, Dr. Y/N!" Nobara hollered after you, making you chuckle as you walked toward the elevator.

As you walked out of the hospital, you were welcomed by a breathtaking sunrise, illuminating the sky with a blend of warm oranges and pinks. The sun gradually creed up on the horizon, casting a soft, golden light on everything it touched. As the wind caressed their leaves, the gentle sway of the trees caught your eye, creating a soothing rustling sound.

The pavement was bathed in a warm, amber light, and it radiated a positive energy that spread throughout your body, leaving you feeling content and serene.

Suddenly, something caught your attention, and you looked up to find yourself across none other than Gojo Satoru himself.

He was leaning casually against a brand new-looking 2022 Cadillac as he donned a luxurious black polo shirt and slacks that accentuated his impressive physique.

His eyes met yours with relief, making it seem like he had been waiting for you.

The scene felt surreal, making you squint your eyes to ensure you weren't imagining things.

You feel your pulse quicken at the sight of him approaching. Every step he took echoed in your ears, drowning out the noise of the crowd around you. Your hands instinctively clenched as you braced yourself for his arrival, nervous as you waited for him.

He stood before you, looking hesitant and unsure of himself. "Dr. Y/N," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please tell me if I'm overstepping or saying too much."

His sudden appearance still perplexed you, and you couldn't grasp what was happening. "Huh?" You answered, hoping to get some clarity.

He took a deep breath and continued, "I'm sorry if this comes out too weird, but I just wanted to offer to drive you home, or maybe we could grab dinner together. As, um, as a thank you." You saw the hope in his eyes as he spoke.

Seeing a military intelligence captain being so nervous in front of you was pretty surprising. Your presence seemed to have impacted them, leaving you wondering about the cause of their nervousness.

"You don't really need to do that," you said, but you immediately regretted your words as his shoulders slumped in defeat. "But I haven't eaten yet, so I find it hard to say no," you continued, giving in to your emotions and favor towards him.

As you spoke, you noticed his eyes widen slightly at your words. His reaction reminded you of one of your dreams, where his teenage self would throw his head back in laughter at your banters. However, you quickly snapped out of your reverie when he called out to you, leading you to his car.

You followed him closely; he opened the passenger door with a gentle hand and helped you settle inside. You fastened your seatbelt while watching him get inside, his hands on the wheel as he started driving.

"What would you like to eat, Dr. Y/N?" he asked, turning his head slightly to face you.

"Anything is fine, and you can just call me Y/N," you replied politely.

"Alright, Y/N," he said, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. Hearing your name from his lips made your heartburn, making you remember the familiar voice of his name in your dreams. You turned your head to face the windows, feeling your eyes moisten.

You had heard his voice in your dreams before, and it was a surreal feeling to listen to it now.

"Have you been waiting for me outside?" you asked, still looking out the window.

"Yes, I remembered last time that you told me every week you have Sunday as your rest day, so I waited," he replied as he continued to drive.

"Waited?" you asked, intrigued now. You finally glanced at him with curiosity in your eyes. "For how long?"

"Yeah. For 4 hours. Since I was not sure what time you'll be out," he chuckled, tapping his fingers nervously at the steering wheel.

"What? You could've asked for me. That's too long; I'm sure you have other things to do," you said, feeling guilty for keeping him waiting.

"I didn't want to disturb you, and don't worry because I have requested a leave today, too," he said reassuringly. He stared back at you with a warm smile, his blue eyes shining like the ocean on a sunny day.

You were fully aware of his striking blue eyes, having seen them for the first time when he woke up in the hospital. But every time you looked into them, you couldn't help but feel a rush of admiration for their pure beauty. You two had been gazing at each other for a while, lost in thought and captivated by each other's presence.

Suddenly, a car horn blared behind you, causing both of you to startle. Satoru cursed under his breath and accelerated, seeing the traffic signal turn green. "Shit, sorry."

Stepping into the restaurant, you were immediately drawn to the opulent decor surrounding you. The place was adorned with intricate details that exuded elegance and luxury.

Satoru gave you a warm smile and guided you to your table with his big, gentle hands resting on the small of your back.

You both sat down to eat, the aroma of the food wafting around you; you engaged in light conversation, exchanging short stories here and there. Satoru spoke fondly of his subordinates, sharing anecdotes that painted a picture of a kind, respectful leader who genuinely cared about the people he worked with.

You listened to him speak, and you admired him for his qualities and how he treated his team with the utmost fondness and care. It was evident he was a good person, just like the one you had seen in your dreams.

"Would you like some wine?" he asked, offering a drink.

"Yes, I'll just take a glass or two," you replied, smiling at him as you accepted the glass and sipped the expensive-tasting wine. You watched him drink his wine, too, his eyes fixed on you, making you blush.

"Y/N," he began, "I wanted to apologize for my behavior last time. I fear I may have come off rude by not speaking much and being surprised when you called me by my name. Yuuji mentioned that he told you my name, so I'm sorry if I was taken aback." His eyes seemed to soften as he spoke.

"Okay," you shyly replied, feeling like a teenager again. He took a sip of his wine, then looked up at you with a serious expression.

"To be honest, I've wanted to talk to you for a while now," he said. "Ever since I was a child, there's been this girl that I've been dreaming about. I can't recall much about her features, but one thing that has always stayed with me is the vivid memory of her eyes. They were the most beautiful and expressive eyes I had ever seen. It broke my heart whenever I saw tears streaming down her face in my dreams. I know it may sound strange, but I was mesmerized the first time I saw you because you have the same eyes as the girl in my dreams."

As you stood there listening to him, your heart skipped a beat, and your breath became shallow. His words were like a punch to the gut, "And after I met you, whenever I think of that girl in my dreams, all I keep seeing is your face instead." You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, and your palms started sweating.

"Tell me," you shakily said, "Tell me one of your dreams."

Satoru stared at you, joining his hands on the table as he leaned in. "There are many of them; it's like different versions of myself, but there was this one time that I was a soldier, and--"

"And you died in the war," you cut him off, continuing, "And you left a letter to your wife, apologizing for leaving her, not giving her kids, and saying that you'll meet again."

As you locked eyes with him, you noticed a look of bewilderment on his face reflected in your expression. Both of you were left speechless, lost in contemplation, as you realized your dreams had been intertwined.

"I get them too, Satoru. I see those same dreams every day, but I can never remember your name for some reason. Your face becomes a blur every time I wake up, and it's heart-wrenching," you said, your voice shaking as tears streamed down your face. You instinctively wrapped your hands around yourself, seeking comfort from your embrace.

Satoru looked at you; his heart tightened with emotion as he observed the tears streaming down your face.

At that moment, he realized that his heart still belonged to you, and all his doubts and apprehensions vanished into thin air, realizing that you, just like him, were deeply invested in your shared dreams of the past.

"I could tell it was you from the moment I looked at you, but I wasn't sure if you would know me. It's funny, a year ago, if someone had told me that you were real, I wouldn't have believed them," you said with a bitter chuckle. Your head hung low, avoiding eye contact with him. "Despite that, I always held onto the hope that we would find each other again. I knew you would still turn my head like you did all lives ago."

You rested your hands on the smooth surface of the table. Satoru's hands moved towards you without a second thought. They were warm and welcoming, fitting yours perfectly as if they were meant to be there.

His voice was gentle as he said, "Let's get you home, sweet girl."

Satoru gently wiped your tears away with his thumb, his touch warm and reassuring. He then helped you into the car, carefully protecting your head as you got in. He was extremely careful and attentive towards you, ensuring you were comfortable and safe.

Once settled in your seat, Satoru made sure your seatbelt was fastened correctly. His hands moved precisely, checking and adjusting until he was satisfied that everything was secure.

"Can you tell me your address and phone number?" he asked softly, his hands resting gently on your thigh.

Satoru began to drive, clasping your hands in his, taking a different route than usual. Knowing that he had your best interests at heart, you didn't question it. You trusted him implicitly, knowing you were safe with him above all else.

The car gradually slowed down and finally came to a halt. You gazed out the window and saw a vast, open field that immediately caught your eye.

The scene was so picturesque - the colorful flowers on the sides and the lush green grass in the center welcomed you warmly. And as you tilted your head toward the sky, the countless stars shining down upon you took your breath away, filling your heart with a sense of wonder and awe.

As you both sat down, the silence was filled with the gentle rustling of the leaves and the twinkle of the stars above. The cool breeze brushed against your skin as you gazed up at the sky, admiring the constellations.

After a few minutes, you felt a soft touch on your hand and turned to see him looking at you with a gentle smile.

Without a word, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. "I've never been in a relationship before," he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours, "Because I was waiting for you, Y/N."

You felt your heart swell with emotion, and a soft smile spread across your lips as you leaned towards him. Wrapping your arms around him, you inhaled the scent of his cologne mixed with his natural musk, feeling the warmth of his embrace as he pulled you closer.

He kissed the top of your head, and you could feel the gentle movement of his lips against your hair. It was a moment of pure bliss and contentment, a feeling that words could not describe.

You spent the moment getting to know each other, from the simplest things like birthdays and favorite foods to the grander things like your hopes, dreams, and beliefs.

It was like two lost souls finally finding their way back to each other, and you felt yourself falling deeper in love with him with each passing moment.

Satoru drove you back to your apartment, chatting and laughing with you. When you arrived at your doorstep, he didn't just drop you off and leave - instead, he walked you towards your door, patting your head affectionately as he said, "I'll text you as soon as I get home. And let's schedule our next date soon, okay?"

You laughed at his eagerness, teasing him, "Date? Have you even asked my permission if it's alright to court me?"

"I'm sure we all know you have been my wife," he teased, flashing his charming smile. "And I'm sure you won't resist my handsome face." His lighthearted comment made you double over in laughter.

Finally, it was time to say goodbye. You closed the door, and your smile slowly faded away. You had expected him to at least kiss you - even a peck on the cheek would have sufficed - but he didn't.

Feeling a bit disappointed, you walked towards your living room, wondering what could have you done wrong. However, your thoughts were interrupted when you suddenly heard your doorbell ring.

Your heart skipped a beat as you turned around and walked back to the door, peering nervously through the peephole. To your surprise, you saw Satoru standing outside, looking just as nervous as you felt.

Opening the door, you were surprised when he grabbed your face without hesitation, lowering his head and pressing his lips against yours. Your arms snake around his neck, pulling him closer still as his tongue darts out to gently sweep across your bottom lip, seeking entry.

With a gentle moan, you open up for him, allowing your tongues to dance in a passionate embrace. He deepens the kiss, using his free hand to tangle his fingers gently into your hair, holding you firmly in place.

He continued to explore every corner of your mouth, savoring the unique flavor that is uniquely yours. You break away from the kiss to catch your breath, only to see his eyes hooded as he stares at you with admiration.

Satoru pulled you into his warm embrace, whispering, "I'll see you soon, my wife."

The endearment immediately made your eyes well up with tears, as it was his favorite in your past life. You held onto him, cherishing the moment.

Eventually, he released you, giving you one last peck on your lips before walking away towards his car. You watched as he approached the driver's seat and waved back at you happily.

"See you soon!" you called out, trying to keep your voice from trembling. Satoru winked at you, making your heart skip a beat.

The memories of your past lives flooded your mind as you watched him drive away, and you were grateful for the chance to start anew. The journey ahead was uncertain, but you were ready to face it together with Gojo Satoru by your side.

Deep down, you knew you were ready to spend this lifetime with him.

Note: Writing this made me cry and emotional, and I hope you liked it. Soldier/Captain Gojo makes my brain melt.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Called to Duty 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The bank is as ever anxiety inducing. On pay day, you go down to cash your check then give most of it right back, parsing it out for your various expenses. At the end of it, you have even less than the month before. You don't get it. Thing's only seem to get worse; not just money, but your body. Every day you wake up, you feel even more crummy than the last.

Your hopes of a treat at the cafe are dashed. You give a longing look as you walk by and peer through the window. You can smell cinnamon and coffee. You're strict non-caffeinated, doctor's orders, but a decaf would be amazing with one of those cinnamon buns. Ugh, damn, why are you torturing yourself?

You turn to continue down the street but barely dodge out of the way of another pedestrian. He makes sure you can't pass as he mirrors you, sidestepping to block your way. You sigh as you step back and look Sy in the face. For a big man, he sure can sneak up on you.

"Hey," he flips up his dark sunglasses, "how're you feeling?"

You stare up at him defiantly, not quite bold enough to glare. He hasn't done anything wrong, he's just persistent. It isn't his fault he reminds you of that spoiled deadbeat. Or that your emotions are volatile, one moment teary eyed, the next blazing hot with rage.

"Fine, thanks for asking," you shrug, "Sy, I gotta--"

"I owe you a cookie," he points to the cafe window at his shoulder.

You blink. You remember the cracked shortbread. You forgot about that. The mention of the sugary treat makes your stomach growl and your mouth water.

"No, you don't--"

"I do," he insists, "I don't like to carry 'round debts. Let me buy you one."

"I got it free," you say, "it's not a big deal."

"It is to me," he counters, "I was heading in anyway."

You stare at him. You really don't get this man. You're no longer so sure that Thor sent him to check up on you, not since your last interaction. In fact, the wingman seemed more spiteful of him than you. You look across the steeet to the pharmacy then back at him. The aromas wafting out with each swing of the door have you ravenous.

"I can't stay long, I gotta work," you say.

His cheeks twitch, as if he tamps back a smile before it can bloom, "after you."

He gesture behind you to the door. You turn and lead the way. He reaches past you to open the door before you can and you enter ahead of him. The din within is lively and the air is warm from the crowd and the employees steaming out orders behind the counter.

"Wanna find a seat?" He suggests, "you should rest."

You open your mouth to argue but think better of it. You'd rather not stand in the clustered line. You nod and head off to claim the table by the window. There isn't much left.

You pull out the chair and brace your back as you sit with a sigh. You glance over and find Sy watching you as he stands in the queue. His gaze makes you want to wilt, instead you turn your attention out the window.

Not even Thor looked at you like that. Don't be silly. Sy is just being a dutiful guy, helping out the town slut in her time of need. You won't be duped. Not when you can hear your name being twisted on tongues at that very moment.

You sit and wait, wring the strap of your small purse. You watch the street. If it wasn't for the people, Hammer Ford would be serene.

A plate clinks in front of you and a porcelain mug as well. It isn't a cookie and you can smell the herbal tea's rosy flavour. You peer up at Sy as he gives an apologetic look.

"Cookies are still baking so I got you a cinnamon bun," he says.

"And tea?" You add.

"Can't have one without the other," he says, "no coffee for you."

"Yeah, I... I know."

You could laugh. He suggested before he's been reading things about pregnancy. You just can't picture him with a copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.

"Thank you," you smile as best you can.

"Gotta get mine, be back," he excuses himself and marches back to the counter.

You look down at the gooey iced draped spiral. You really shouldn't. Not only accept his misspent generosity but indulge in the excess sugar. Yet your hormones won't let you resist. You can at least wait until he's sitting down.

He returns with a black coffee and a rather colourful donut. They don't match. Bitter and sweet all at once. He sits and takes off his hat and sunglasses.

You put your purse to the edge of the table and rest your hand on your stomach, doing your best to resist the animalistic need to tear apart the dessert. His eyes follow the movement and you quickly drop your arm. You don't even think when you do it, it's just a habit.

"You-" he begins.

"Wh--" you find your voice at the same time.

You both stop, hesitant. He nods and gestures to you, lifting his cup as he watches you intently. That's new too. Thor never listened much, only talked a lot. Besides, you weren't exactly together for the conversation.

"Sy," you clear your throat and sit forward as much as you can, "why are you following me around?"

His brows form a vee, "I'm... it's not... I'm tryna help."

"Okay, but why?"

His eyes flick up to the ceiling and his cheek ticks as he gives the question genuine thought. When he looks at you again, his face is set, "because I want to."

"You want to?"

"Yes, I'd like to take care of you. And the little one, if you'll let me."

You can't help your snort, "we hardly know each other."

"Isn't for lack of trying," he taps his fingers on his mug. "Aren't ya gonna try the bun?"

"I will," you assure him. He's trying to distract you and it's close to working. The cinnamon is driving you mad. "A baby is a lot of work and... I'm not your responsibility. I know Thor is your friend."

"Was," he interjects.

"Sure," you accept his decisive declaration, "but that doesn't mean you have to worry about his mistakes."

"Mistakes? I don't think so," he says.

"Well, it's not exactly planned," you scoff, "Sy, really I don't feel right about you doing so much."

"Wouldn't feel right not doing it," he shrugs his burly shoulders.

“But why?” You nearly exclaim. You just want to know why he cares so much, about you?

He leans forward, elbows on the table, “they talk about me too, ya know? Since I got back from... serving. They say I’m f—crazy, or whatever. It wasn’t easy or nothin’ over there but I’m not nuts. Not like they say. Just like you’re not some slut, forgive me for saying it out loud.”

You look down at the table and exhale. So he hears as much as anyone else about you. At least he’s honest. At least he isn’t joining them. You purse your lips and reach for the cinnamon bun, unable to restrain yourself any longer.

“For what it’s worth,” you raise your eyes to meet his, “I never thought you were... unwell, or whatever they say.”

His cheeks pinch, another suppressed smile, and he tilts his head, “I’m only happy to hear you think of me.”

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #drabble #backwoods #called to duty #series #sand castle #au

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my-pjo-stuff · 2 months

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So, has anyone ever noticed that Luke only really seems to have done really BIG things personally when Percy was around (as in, at Camp)? Which was like, a pretty small amount of time all things considered? Now I know that logically that's only because Luke is the antagonist and Percy is the protagonist, and as such Luke has to make his moves when the protag is around for the story to function.

That's boring though so here's my personal headcanon of why that is:

Luke was just- chronically overworked to the point of just not having the TIME to deal with shit personally most of the time.

Like genuinly do you all know what sort of WORK goes into forming and sustaining armies like that? Resources, supply lines, allies, logistics, strategy- that all needs to be handled and organized! And we all know for sure Kronos wasn't the one dealing with that, and certainly no monster either. So who does this leave? RIGHT, our favorite little depressed big brother figure Luke. You think that Percy and co. are Luke's main problem? HA, he wished. Luke during every one of his appearances post TLT is just high of his ass on caffeine with a mountain of paperwork on his desk waiting for him. Sorry Lord Kronos I can't do anything against camp right now, I need to do the paperwork for the supply line proposals and then I have a meeting with our strategists to plan for our assaults.

The reason he's so downright evil in SOM? He just came out of a HORRID four-hour meeting trying to figure out how to make functioning communications work while also attempting to smooth over the bureaucracy of a functioning chain of command.

Alabaster has seen him eating raw coffee beans on multiple occasions, no one questions it anymore at this point.

We all thank Silena for managing to hide those grand canyon eyebags the guy has with make up.

Chris SWEARS that he saw Luke chugging three packs of monster energy before suddenly passing out and flatlining for a good minute and getting up and about like nothing happened seconds later. Luke's health is a minefield, the guy doesn't even know where he is half the time on the Princess Andromeda. How hasn't he died of exhaustion yet? No one knows.

Leading theory is that he lives off of spite.

#pjo #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan headcanons #percy jackson headcanon #titan army pjo #alabaster c torrington headcanons #chris rodriguez #luke is just tired #plz get that poor boy a nap #silena beauregard

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starlightshadowsworld · 5 months

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I feel like for the first several years Fukuzawa had Agency mandated cooking classes. Because let's be real here, none of em knew how to cook.

Kunikida was a college drop out who was probably used to surviving on instant ramen, caffeine and spite. And Katai was right there with him.

Yosano lived on military rations and than hospital food. Dazai just holds up a can of crab and a bottle of sake like behold, a meal. Ranpo is the same except its just sweets and snack food.

Fukuzawa taught himself and was used to cooking for Ranpo and tried to teach the others. Yosano, Katai and Kunikida are the only ones to retain any of it.

Katai survives on leftovers bought by Kunikida mostly. But when he's up for it, he can cook but it'll be something rather easy.

Yosano and Kunikida make a lot on their days off and than just refrigerates it and eats it throughout the week. Kunikida will also bring extra lunch knowing Dazai will steal it.

Ranpo will not cook and Dazai can and will burn water. And so Fukuzawa was prepared to do the same for the younger recruits but learned, he didn't need too.

Granted Kenji had to be taught how to use appliances but he got the hang of it. Sometimes he's forgetful but he has a handy lil egg timer to stop that.

He named it Ihatovo after his village.

Junichiro was already used to cooking for him and Naomi. Naomi can make the best tea you've ever had, everything else is a nope.

Atsushi was taught how to by the Orphanage as part of his chores And it's another skill Kyouka learned in the Port Mafia.

After a long and gruelling case, Fukuzawa will order take away for everyone and they'll all eat their comfort foods together.

#bsd fukuzawa #bsd kunikida #bsd kyouka #bsd kenji #bsd katai #bsd atsushi #bsd junichiro #bsd yosano #bsd dazai #bsd ranpo #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd naomi

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starryeyeddreamer21 · 8 days

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Hazbin Hotel cooking head canons

Alastor: I think we can all agree he's the best cook in the hotel. He would've learned from his mom and enjoys cooking for people because of it. The first few times he cooked for them everyone was a little weary because cannibalism but he made it "vegetarian" so don't worry. Also he hates cooking with other people that spot is reserved for his mother only and everyone learns really fast to not go into the kitchen while he's cooking.

Sir Pentious: An amazing baker but not a great cook, like he can cook and it comes out fine but he always feels like something isn't right. Loves baking with Angel and Nifty. He even tries to teach Charlie how to bake. She makes no progress but he continues to teach her until he ends up in heaven.

Charlie: An absolute disaster like holy shit. Not only will she set the kitchen on fire she will also create the most disgusting food combinations and act like they're completely normal. She's doing her best I swear. She would probably try to take cooking classes but that would just end horribly.

Vaggie: Cannot cook. Everything will come out burnt and underdone at the same time. She's convinced she's cursed.

Angel: Second best cook at the hotel. Learned from his Nona. He used to cook with Molly all the time but hasn't for a while. He just didn't have the energy to cook and it always made him miss his sister too much. Eventually he got more comfortable at the hotel and started cooking again. Now he tries to cook dinner for everyone at least once a week. Loves cooking with other people he just doesn't have the patience to teach them.

Nifty: Is actually a good cook is just terrible at plating. Her food won't look good but the taste would be worth it. There might be a crunch in something that probably shouldn't be crunchy but just try not to think about it too much.

Husk: Would live off microwavable dinners if they let him. He can't cook but he'll eat anything anyone makes him. He's even eaten Charlie's disgusting food combinations like it was nothing. Can probably figure out how to make anything in the microwave if you give him the time.

Cherri: Do NOT let this woman in the kitchen. She will blow the entire place up and then do it again the next day for fun. Has probably figured out how to make bombs out of food idk how but she would.

Lucifer: He's not a bad cook he just doesn't usually have the energy or patience to do it. He prefers to make sweet foods so he'd specialize in breakfast and dessert. He can make other food too he just doesn't as much. It's probably better for him to have supervision while he cooks though. He gets distracted or just bored really easily. He'll space out or leave the room entirely to do something else and completely forget he's cooking. Like he'd be boiling potatoes to make mashed potatoes and then leave the room to do something and get distracted until suddenly he smells burning and runs into the kitchen to find that all the waters evaporated and the potatoes are burning to the bottom of the pot and he has to start over (no this has never happened to me why would you say that). Because of this Lucifer and Angel tend to cook together because Angel prefers cooking with company and they both have a sweet tooth.

Vox: Mostly lives on cup ramen and take out. He cooked once but it was dry unseasoned chicken and was never allowed to cook again. I want to say he'd have expensive taste but he's a workaholic so leftover Chinese food for the third time this week it is. I'm serious though this man hasn't slept in four days, is on the brink of hallucinating, and is surviving off caffeine, three day old leftovers that should definitely not be eaten, and pure unfiltered spite.

Valentino: He's actually a really good cook. The thing is he can't decide if he wants people to be in the kitchen with him or not because he'll be standing at the stove and ask Vox to hand him something and then five minutes later he's yelling because Vox is in his way. It's a very stressful experience for everyone except Valentino who finds it calming.

Velvette: She's pretty average honestly. Like she can cook fine but it's nothing exciting. She loves trying new recipes she sees online but always gets pissed when it doesn't go as planned so then she orders takeout. She's really good at decorating though like she can't bake a cake but she'd decorate it beautifully so that actually works well with Valentino who can't use a piping bag for shit.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #funny #alastor hazbin hotel #sir pentious hazbin hotel #charlie hazbin hotel #vaggie hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin hotel #nifty hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #cherri bomb hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #vox hazbin hotel #valentino hazbin hotel #velvette hazbin hotel #the vees

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omgreally · 1 year

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Hot Coffee ☕️ / Joel Miller/F!Reader / 1.5k-2k ish / E18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: This escalated quickly. Angst; Banter; Sexual tension that is most definitely resolved; Consenting adults getting carried away; unprotected sex; smut, little bit of a breeding kink if you squint.

Summary: When is a coffee date not a coffee date? When it’s with Joel Miller, of course. It’s about time both of you got the hint.

—

Joel tries not to think about creature comforts much. The world ended so suddenly that most of them became a thing of the past in a single afternoon. By the time the next day dawned, he forgot about things like Sunday mornings and coffee and watching TV and playing board games; all that mattered was survival.

He often wondered why he bothered. There didn’t seem to be much to live for, after - after Sarah. Tommy kept him going a while, and sheer spite after that; anger at the whole world, anger that manifested itself through the impact of his fists or from the barrel of his gun. Bloody knuckles and the metallic tang of of gunpowder and copper the only taste left in the back of his throat. Things like coffee and pancakes? A thing of the past. Forgotten.

Tess cooled him down some, reminded him of something other than emptiness, but the space between her and Ellie coming along was too narrow, the grief too fresh, so he locked it away. He was pretty sure he’d never be close to someone like that ever again.

It was inevitable, though. Humans always sought out companionship; it was pack instinct more than anything else. At least, that’s what Joel tells himself as you sit across from him, drinking coffee.

He tells himself he isn’t getting comfortable or complacent, because if he let himself think that, then he’d start to think he doesn’t deserve it, and he knows where a thought like that ends. But he can taste something other than blood now, and he’s not sure why, but that scares him - more than his anger does.

Joel lets the silence stretch between you, and you seem comfortable with it. He imagines a time years ago when this would be a date. Now it’s just two humans sharing a space and a time where they don’t have to fight to survive. When he stops to think about it, he realises it feels…nice.

So nice he almost didn’t want to let you in when you came to his door, but you had a bag of coffee beans- real coffee beans - you pilfered on a patrol and you were offering to share them with him, no one else, him - and he’s not sure if it’s because he was the only person you knew who owned a coffee grinder in Jackson or not.

Joel’s not sure he can handle the implications otherwise.

“Finished already?” You raise a brow as he drains his chipped mug and sets it down on the table between you. “Jesus, Miller. You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls for hours. That shit’s Colombian.”

“Thirty-year-old Arabica beans,” he corrects, pointing a finger at you, making you smile. Making you smile is always easier than it should be. Easier with him than with others, he’s noticed. It worries him. “Probably full of more E. coli than caffeine.”

“You fail high school chemistry too?” You tease him often, because the man takes himself too damn seriously. Joel hates that he likes it, and he hates that you can tell.

“Okay, it’s oxidised,” he drawls, “It tastes like shit but it won’t kill me. Happy?”

“Only when you’re miserable,” you say brightly. He scoffs and shakes his head, and the quiet builds between you, its presence suddenly large and uncomfortable in the absence of more coffee. You sigh, and give up. “Ah, never mind. I should get going. Sorry the coffee was shit.”

You stand up and move towards the door. Joel catches your wrist, and you pause. Look down at the man. More greys than when you first met him, but his cheeks aren’t as hollow. Jackson suited him, even though he makes any excuse not to settle down.

Ellie’s happy here, so he doesn’t have a choice.

“Thanks,” Joel says, making eye contact. Your turn to look away. Too serious. “I haven’t had fresh-ground coffee in…” he pauses to think, going back. Too far back. “Ages,” he finishes. His fingers are still on your wrist.

“Well, you were the first person I thought of when I found it. Haven’t had a good supply run like that in ages. But it wasn’t fresh. I think you said something about E. coli?”

“Sorry. You know I-“ He fights for the words when you take his hand. You’ve never done that before. Flirted with him, sure, but you’ve never touched him unsolicited like this. You’ve got more boundaries, more walls up than he does sometimes.

“You remember coffee dates?” You smile at his frown. “You know, some asshole buys you a coffee, expects you to sleep with him after. Happened all the time to the girls I worked with at the bar, back before the world ended. Never to me though. So one day, I brought an asshole a cup of coffee. Know what happened?”

Joel shakes his head, mute. He’s stroking your wrist with his thumb, turned his body towards you. You could just sit right on his knee if you wanted. You could lean down and kiss him.

“We sat and drank coffee for twenty minutes and neither of us said a word.”

Joel lets you go like you’ve bitten him. He wonders if he’s blown it, and he’s surprised to find out he really hopes he hasn’t. You put up a lot but he’s always known it was inevitable he would ruin any chance at friendship - or more - with you by pushing you away. He’s been doing it for weeks, months even, ignoring your hints, responding with taciturn silence, expecting you to figure out it was habit drilled into him by years of only his own loneliness and anger for company.

“I’m sorry,” Joel says, not meeting your eyes. You touch his shoulder and then he looks up.

“Don’t be. Best coffee date I’ve had in ages.”

He tastes like bitter, burnt beans when you kiss him, and you imagine you don’t taste much better. But Joel reacts as if he’s drowning and you’re his only source of air - rising to his feet, his hands on your waist - he kisses you back like he never forgot how.

He didn’t know how much he wanted you until you were about to walk away.

Joel prays to god Ellie’s still out with that girl she likes because if she walked into their house right now she would see her surrogate father figure with his tongue down your throat and his hands in your pants. Your thoughts go down a similar road as you fumble with his belt.

There’s no need for words or what-ifs between you; you don’t need to say anything because you both know it doesn’t matter. All that matters is now, the press of Joel’s mouth and tongue, the solid promise of his body.

Joel touches you at first as if he can’t believe you’re real, that this is happening. But he’s quick to grow bold, hands kneading at your breast, fingers pinching at the peak of your nipple when he finds out it you like it - rewarding him with a gasp. Joel grins that cheeky fucking grin you see on him sometimes, when he thinks you aren’t looking, and suddenly all that matters is the stubborn zipper of his fly, the buttons of your shirt, and your sneakers which you just can’t seem to kick off fast enough before either of you stop to think that this might not be the best idea after all.

Joel can’t remember the last time he had a good idea, but this doesn’t feel like a bad one. Not with the heat of your mouth at his throat, the firm, pliable curves of your body pressed against him. He knew you weren’t the shy type but he almost chokes when you palm the outline of his stiffening dick before you even get his zipper all the way down.

It’s like a spell the two of you are too reluctant to break by speaking. There’s just the combined sound of your breathing, the press of your mouths, the intoxicating buzz of caffeine mixed with arousal so painfully strong it’s like a cramp. You need to fuck Joel right now as much as you need to breathe. He seems to feel the same, if how hard he is is anything to go by.

When you finally free his cock the animal part of Joel’s brain starts snarling and clawing at the walls. He grabs a fistful of your hair and spins you around, bending you forward over the table. You manage to kick one of your sneakers off, your jeans hanging off one leg - he doesn’t even pull your panties down, just drags the soaked fabric aside to make room for him.

Everything up til now has been frenzied. Coffee cups and clothes all over the floor. But when he pushes into you, time slows; and for a moment there’s no apocalypse outside Jackson. There’s just the feeling of Joel feeding your pussy every inch of his cock, slow but steady, as if he already knows you can take it. And you can, and you do, holding your breath as your entire focus narrows to the delicious ache between your legs as Joel stretches you open.

Then you feel his warm, wide palm on your back, long fingers stroking almost soothingly down your spine. He doesn’t speak but you can almost hear the dark molasses of his Texas drawl, lifting the hairs on your neck - Relax. Breathe. So you do, and Joel rewards you by pulling out slow - and thrusting in again quicker, finding a new angle that has the blunt head of his dick striking some nerve inside you that has you seeing stars, and then he does it again. And again.

You want to sob his name and drag claw marks into the table but you just hold onto the edge of it and arch your back, closing your eyes. You haven’t been fucked like this in years - maybe ever - and it feels right that it’s now, that it’s Joel Miller.

Thank God for coffee dates.

Joel’s thighs slap into the back of yours, the table jumping beneath you. You can hear him panting like distant thunder. When your legs start to shake beneath you, he loops an arm around your hips and finds your clit in seconds with two fingertips, as instinctive as pulling a trigger. You know you’re not going to last much longer, and he seems intent on it.

You moan his name then - without meaning to, without your permission - and Joel’s pace stutters. He starts grinding into you, barely pulling out before surging back in again, almost lifting your feet from the floor. You’re so wet you can hear it with each impact but you don’t give a fuck and Joel loves it; the reaction of your body only spurring him on.

All too quickly, you’re quivering on a knife’s edge, straining towards it, and you let go of a sob when you come, and the sudden fluttering, wet clench of your cunt around his cock finally does Joel in.

He knows he shouldn’t but he just needs to be inside you, deep enough to bruise, to replace the taste of coffee with the taste of him in the back of your throat - an instinct he just can’t hold back. He snaps his hips forward one last time, the slick wet heat of you welcoming him home, and his vision goes white as his cock pulses rhythmically inside you, filling you with his come.

You twitch and shiver through it, moaning weakly, encouragingly. You push back against him with the grip of your toes on the floor, murmuring wordless little sounds in time with the aftershocks.

Joel’s knees feel weak when awareness finally returns. He leans over you, breathing hard as if he’s just been running from a pack of Clickers, pressing his forehead against the back of your neck.

You know you should be pissed that Joel Miller just fucking came in you, but, well, you let him - and you liked it. A lot. You wanted him to. In fact, the predominant feeling you have now is one of satisfaction. In more ways than one.

You reach back on instinct to touch his face, as if to reassure yourself he’s still there. Joel flinches - but then you feel his beard, his lips against your fingers, your neck, your temple.

Yeah. He wanted this too. Maybe even needed it, too, as much as he needed the coffee.

“Definitely the best coffee date I’ve ever had,” you croak when you can speak again. And you think you can feel Joel smiling against your neck.

#joel miller smut #joel miller oneshot #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #last of us hbo #joel miller x you #joel miller/f!reader #omgreally; joel miller/reader

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findmeinasunshower · 2 years

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𝑪𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒆: 𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒖 𝑯𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊

word-count: 2.4k

summary: pro-hero psyche moves into your neighborhood, and you bond over your local convenience store <3 (y’all. when i tell you it took me a wholeass season to write this.)

warnings: fluff. just fluff

part ii

When you stumble into Kondō Convenience on a rainy summer evening, you nearly stop in surprise at the sight of another customer in the hallowed space.

Since you moved off campus last year, it’s been your Friday routine to stop at the convenience store below your apartment and get yourself a treat. The little corner store is usually pretty lonely, save for during the morning rush when practically the whole neighborhood stops in for coffee and a small breakfast.

You can tell the stranger is handsome even from behind — He’s clad simply in flowing black pants tucked into expensive combat boots, and a black shirt tight enough to emphasize the lean muscle he’s built up (though, most of the view is hidden underneath a thick purple scarf and an even brighter purple mop of hair).

"Ah, my favorite student,” your attention is pulled away by Kondō, the uncle that runs the store. He smiles at you kindly when you make eye contact over the counter. “How was your week?”

You smile at the man. “It was good. Thank you, Ojisan.”

“What will you be getting this fine evening?”

“I’m not sure yet. Any suggestions?”

“Well, our new neighbor is already exploring our caffeinated selection.”

New neighbor? You look back at the stranger just in time to see him turn around curiously. You’re immediately stricken by his arresting violet eyes, matching his coiffed mop of hair perfectly. He looks from Kondō to you and gives you a tentative smile. “What can I say? I’m a man who likes options.”

Your mouth twitches up at the tired, deadpan way he jokes. Despite having just met the man, you immediately decide you like him.

“You new around here?” you ask, walking over to join him by the row of fridges.

"Yeah, just moved around the corner. I'm Shinsou," he introduces himself with a small smile and a dip of his head. You give him your name in return.

“Well, welcome to the neighborhood,” you say, and you genuinely mean it. Shinsou smiles again, and you can’t tell if the shiver that runs through you is from that or the chill of the open fridge. You clear your throat and gesture to the different selections of canned coffee. “Any suggestions?” you ask.

“Uh...” Shinsou turns back to the fridge with a thoughtful frown. “I’ve actually never tried any of these brands. But, my friend has said good things about...” He reaches in and retrieves an amber can of cold brew. “This one.”

You smile and pluck the can out of his hand when proffered. “I do like caramel. Thank you, Shinsou.”

“You’re welcome,” he responds, and the slightly raspy quality of his voice as he tacks your name on at the end makes you look back up. His hair has fallen over his forehead and almost into his eyes, giving him a younger look in spite of the signs of stress that exist alongside his smile lines.

You feel a flush starting to creep its way across your neck and turn to walk to the counter before you embarrass yourself. “Well, I live just across the street if you want help learning the area.”

Kondō raises his eyebrows at you as he rings you up, and you give him a look, imploring him to stay quiet. You don’t know what made you say that, but the offer flew out of your mouth before you could stop it. In the year you’ve been coming here, Kondō has never seen you with so much as a friend, let alone even interact with anyone in the store outside himself. So, your immediate interest in the purple-haired stranger could not be more obvious.

Shinsou smiles at you as he joins you at the counter and lays 100 yen on the counter. “I just might take you up that.” He nods once more to Kondō before spinning around towards the door, coffee in hand. “I’ll see you around, neighbor. Ojisan.”

“Stay safe out there, MindJack.”

You frown and turn back to face Kondō just as the small bell above the door jingles to signal Shinsou’s exit. “‘MindJack?’” you prompt.

“That boy’s a hero,” your friend says reverently as he slides your can of coffee back across the counter.

You blink in surprise and look back towards the door, where the bell is still shaking at the top. “Really? What’s his quirk?”

“I’m not sure. But, I’d recognize a hero costume anywhere.”

“Huh. I’ve never seen him before either.” You reach into your jacket for your wallet and ask, “How much for the coffee?”

Kondō shoots you a teasing smile. “Psyche left more than enough to pay for both of you.”

~*~

The rains stop toward the end of May, giving way to the traditional blistering summer heat. You had taken a few summer courses upon yourself in the hopes of graduating sooner...but if you're honest with yourself, you probably should've taken a break. On the way home one evening, you walk past a group of kids shrieking and laughing as they run through a sprinkler park, and can't help but feel your jaw tighten with envy.

“Need another coffee?”

You gasp and spin around toward the sound of the voice, only to see no one. A dry chuckle meets your ears next. “Up here.”

You shade your eyes from the sun and peer upwards—Shinsou’s smirking down at you from where he’s perched on a traffic light, swinging his legs back and forth so you can see the purple undersides of his boots. His hair is glowing in the sun, casting a vibrant halo around his sharp features.

Okay. So you might have a thing for purple hair.

Or maybe it’s just the man attached to it.

The two of you have formed an easy comradery in the past few weeks that is both extremely good for you and extremely not. Instead of harboring a stupid, but ultimately futile crush on a Pro Hero, every interaction you have with Shinsou ends with a distinct air of possibility. A possibility that you absolutely refuse to entertain.

“What are you doing up there?” you ask incredulously.

“Surveilling.” Shinsou takes the last sip of his canned coffee before tossing it perfectly into the trash can below. “Mrs. Agawa’s cat got out again.”

“Ah. So she enlisted our favorite local pro hero?”

“Well, Blue Rider lives a street over. So, I guess that depends on if I’m your favorite.” You drop your hand from your forehead so he can see you roll your eyes spectacularly, regretting it immediately when you accidentally make eye contact with the sun.

You curse and blink furiously to clear the spots from your vision, faintly aware of the shadow of Shinsou's form dropping down from his perch to land in front of you. "Whoa there, you okay?" his deep voice rumbles through you, and you're grateful for his lean form casting a shadow over your face. Through your blurry vision, you see his hands reach for you tentatively before falling back to his sides.

"Yeah, sorry," you reply, but you don't really know what you're apologizing for. You risk a glance at his face, swallowing as he straightens up to his full height. You swear you can feel his body heat he's standing so close, but you cast that thought away quickly, blaming the bead of sweat that rolls down your back on the heat of the day.

You turn away from him to hide your blush and start back off down the street. “You're in second just for that, you cocky bastard.”

You bite your cheek to keep from smiling when after a short pause, you hear Shinsou jogging to catch up with you. He sidles up alongside you, hands shoved in his pockets and a goofy smirk on his face as he walks backward next to you. “How can I be cocky when you don’t even know my quirk?”

“Because you’re cocky despite my not knowing your quirk.”

Shinsou’s mouth turns up at the corners and, after a moment of thought, he spins around so he's now bumping shoulders with you. “Fair point.”

You look at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s smiling to himself slightly as you walk together, eyes scanning the quiet street for a hint toward Mrs. Agawa’s cat. “You’re awfully cheerful today," you observe. "Talkative too.”

Shinsou breathes out a laugh and finally turns his eyes on you. “You might be the only person to ever say that to me.” His eyes soften and drag over you slowly. “Must be something about you.”

Your heart stutters and you find yourself stumbling to a stop, a small smile growing across your face. “Are you flirting with me right now, Shinsou Hitoshi?”

There’s a faint flush decorating his cheeks as Shinsou steps closer to you. “And if I was?”

“And if I were,” you correct, and Shinsou rolls his eyes.

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re flirting with me.”

“I am.”

You can’t help how the corners of your mouth turn up in a pleased smile at his admittance. You turn and continue walking before you say anything else, quite liking the fluttery feeling you've been left with. "Alright then."

A comfortable hush settles over the both of you for the next block and you close your eyes briefly, enjoying the sensation of the sun on your back. You inhale the distinct smell of early summer—sun-baked pavement after a night of heavy rain and the sweet aroma of blooming hydrangeas.

“What are you doing?” Shinsou asks.

“Just being.”

“Okay, well, you’re about to walk into a trash can.”

Your eyes fly open just in time. “Shit!” You dodge the offending obstacle and Shinsou laughs, catching you with steady hands when you stumble into him. After you push yourself back to your side of the sidewalk, you make sure to land a solid hit on his arm. “You could’ve said something earlier! Aren’t you supposed to be a hero?”

“You were clearly enjoying ‘just being.’”

“Jerk.”

Shinsou chuckles again and opens the door to Kondō’s, gesturing inside. “Will a coffee make it up to you?”

You cross your arms. “Two will.”

“Deal.”

You jump back with a shriek as a bright flash comes barreling out the convenience store door. Shinsou’s eyes widen and he sprints past you, already halfway through unwrapping his purple scarf.

“Shit! Come here, kitty kitty!”

You cover your mouth to quiet the flurry of giggles that threatens to rise out of you as your friend chases the fleeing orange cat down the street. And if you take out your phone to take a picture…well, that’s no one’s business but yours.

~*~

A hot wave rolls over you when you step out of Kondō’s a week later. The asphalt is steaming in the downpour after a blistering summer day, and you sigh inwardly at the feel of sweat gathering underneath your raincoat. You tug your umbrella low to your head and begin trudging down the block to your apartment building.

You kick up a puddle as you slow to a stop at the sound of a familiar voice calling your name over the pounding of the storm. You turn around to see Shinsou jogging toward you in his full hero regalia. The mask dangling from his chin is starting to gather water and his hair is plastered to his head, making his tired face seem a lot younger.

“Hey, it’s the birthday—oh.” You inhale sharply when Shinsou barrels into you and gathers you into his arms. Despite your surprise, you return his embrace immediately, awkwardly squishing the handle of your umbrella between you two. “What’s wrong, jerk? Are you okay?”

You gasp when Shinsou pulls you even closer, lifting you off your feet slightly. His face is wet where it’s pressed against your neck and he’s shaking slightly…you can’t tell if it’s from whatever he’s feeling or the rain. “Rough day,” his voice rumbles through your chest like thunder, and you find yourself gasping slightly at the feeling.

“I can tell,” you mumble softly. You wrap your arms tighter around him, resting one palm on the cold back of his neck to warm it. “Want to come up and talk about it?”

He pulls back, breath warm where it sighs over your chin, and you find yourself chasing his heat. “Can’t. I gotta get back out there, every hero in the area is on this.”

“Ah.” You lift the umbrella off of where he’d let it rest on his tall head. “So it’s a fucked day.”

Shinsou finds himself chuckling despite himself, despite the things he’s seen and heard and done in the past twelve hours. “Yeah. Today’s fucked.”

“Well, you did say you weren’t a birthday guy,” you tease him with a small smile. Shinsou’s heart sighs at the sight, every inch of him relaxing at the quiet patience you seem to always have for him.

“I did get you a gift, though,” you continue, the hero stepping back slightly as you reach down and pull an amber can of coffee out of your bag. “Seeing you now, it looks like I chose correctly.”

Your friend’s lavender eyes blink once in surprise before his usual smirk is back in place. He plucks the can of coffee out of your hands and fixes his eyes on you. “Thanks, jerk.”

“Any time, hero.” You don’t know what made you say the new nickname, but you’re happy you did when a dusting of pink appears across Shinsou’s cheeks. “Sorry your birthday is fucked,” you whisper.

“Will you go out with me sometime?” Shinsou asks, and suddenly you find your face getting warm enough to match his. He chuckles nervously, warm breath ghosting over you from his proximity to you underneath your umbrella. “Sorry, that was blunt. But, I mean, it’s about time I asked, huh?”

“I…” You lick your lips. “I guess it is.”

Shinsou grins and shifts his feet, his downcast mood from earlier nowhere to be seen. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. I’ll pick you up.” Shinsou smirks once more before ducking his head and escaping the safety of your umbrella, back into the summer storm and whatever he’d been dealing with before. “Good night.”

He spills out the water that had gathered in the bottom of his mask before fixing it across his chin. This is your first time seeing the device up close, and you realize it's much more intricate than you thought. After a wink in your direction, Shinsou disappears back into the shadows and you stumble backward slightly as if the short conversation gave you whiplash.

“See you tomorrow, hero.”

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sarucane · 10 months

Text

This is an under-caffeinated OFMD rant about how awesome I think it is that Ed and Stede aren't obsessed with each other, and aren't particularly protective of each other.

I see this obsession/protectiveness narrative around a lot, and want to state up front that as far as headcanon goes you do you, but I just don't see compelling evidence for this interpretation in the show itself.

People talk about how Stede burned a whole ship of aristocrats because they made Ed sad, but Stede barely pays attention to Ed's reaction when the fire is lit. Stede's hatred of the aristocrats was rooted in how they treated him, which dug up old traumas and frustrations we see rise every time Stede faces people from his old world. And just today I saw someone say that Ned Lowe signed his own death sentence by Stede's hand when he poked Ed with the bow, and it's true that Stede's provoked to start the execution by Ned shit-talking Ed--but Stede kills Ned in spite of Ed, and he lists a bunch of reasons for killing Ned that have nothing at all to do with Ed.

Ed absolutely is sometimes protective of Stede, but it's not a universal thing. He steps in front of the firing squad in Act of Grace, but a few minutes later Chauncey's waving his sword at Stede and Ed steps back. When Ned Lowe attacks and they don't know what's happening, Ed does cover Stede, and he does swear vengeance when Ned hurts Stede--but Ed then point-blank refuses to kill Ned. In the next episode, Ed warns Stede that someone's going to try to kill him, then fucks off.

And as far as obsession goes: there are times when they hyper-focus on each other, like when Ed is thinking about leaving and Stede ignores the oranges problem, and when Ed suggests the run off to China. But there are many more moments throughout the season when the boys choose not to be in one another's company. They spend time together sometimes, and they don't sometimes, and there's nothing suggesting they're "always" obsessively thinking about each other. Often, yes, but not always.

And that "often" is where I get into why I actually love this. Ed and Stede aren't obsessed with each other because they're both fully-realized characters. They have complex motivations related to themselves and to one another, and they exist in a web of relationships, some entirely independent of their significant other. They have rich internal lives of which their romantic connection is one element. One that is extremely important, that is a sometimes overriding and often pivotal element--but still, one.

This love story is really different from just about anything else out there. So many love stories have 1 complex character and 1 love interest; have two characters who are focused only on each other. In a story like that, Ed killing himself would have been "because of Stede," not because of several factors of which Stede was one. Stede would have lost it completely when he found out the Revenge crew had murdered Ed, and again when Ed was voted off the boat. And if they were hyper-protective of each other, they would have been unable to go into battle together. This love story has space in it for two protagonists, and it feels real and honest in a way most TV love stories don't.

At the end of s2, Ed and Stede open an inn. It's not a place where Ed and Stede will be alone together, it's a place where many different people will come and go. Stede is giving up the sea for Ed, but while it's a serious sacrifice (that is very underwritten), his life isn't going to be just about Ed. They're taking steps on the paths of lives where a key pillar will be their relationship with one another, but that will have space for many other stories.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd spoilers #ofmd meta #ed teach #stede bonnet #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #i'm gonna go drink more coffee #long post

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intermittent-showers · 2 months

Text

Part 2: Random Facts & Sweet Gestures

Cute little fic about how Tommy tries to cheer up Buck during his shifts with Gerrard.

Read here or on AO3

"Buckley! Diaz! I want this rig scrubbed from top to bottom!"

"Sure... Cap." Buck said, this time without gritting his teeth and rolling his eyes.

Gerrard kept walking, though, shouting commands out like he'd been doing for the last six weeks. "Wilson! Start dinner! Han!"

"Cap?" Chim popped his head out from behind the ambulance he had been using to seek refuge.

"Mop the floors!" Gerrard practically growled before turning his attention on Ravi, who was now being assigned bathroom duty.

Eddie sighed, grabbing a few rags before handing one to Buck. "Better get started. You know he'll never shut up if it's not clean by the time we eat."

"Yeah. I know." Buck replied before walking yo the front of the ladder truck and started to assess where to begin.

They had just come back from a four alarm fire. They themselves were filthy, covered in ash and mud, and god knows what else. Yet, as exhausting as that call was, working under Gerrard was far worse. There was never any time to just be. Always something to be done and all the while Gerrard would make little comments here and there. About how Bobby had run the 118 into the ground. About how everyone here was weak and undisciplined.

After three weeks of all that, Buck was struggling. He couldn't believe someone so hateful and spiteful could ever be allowed to captain any firehouse, let alone their's.

One night, he said as much to Tommy over dinner at his home. The man had simply asked about Buck's shift, to which he received a full-on rant about how much he hated being there. The job Buck once loved was now the thing he hated most. All because of one obnoxious man.

Buck felt his phone buzz in his pants pocket, quickly putting a smile on his face. Pulling his phone out, he checked the message.

𝗧𝗼𝗺𝗺𝘆: Did you know that around 700 grapes go into one bottle of wine?

Buck responded as quickly as he could, hoping Gerrard was off harassing someone new, not currently in the bay.

𝗕𝘂𝗰𝗸: I didn't know that actually!

And then.

𝗕𝘂𝗰𝗸: miss you

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and continued to clean the rig.

This was something that had been Tommy's idea. To try and have Buck think about things throughout his shift that would interest him and get his mind off of Gerrard. It wasn't terrible advice, especially from someone who understood how horrible shifts could get with that tyrant as your Captain, but Buck didn't really believe something as simple as that would work.

But it had... and it was.

The random facts started out as handwritten notes placed inside Buck's duffle. That first day, he had unzipped the bag to find a single blue post-it note stuck to his extra change of clothes.

It read: 'Human teeth are the only part of the body that can't heal themselves. -T'

And for the first time since Gerrard had taken over, Buck felt happiness within the walls of his firehouse once again.

After a week, one note turned into two notes, and now Buck started just about every shift with a handwritten note in his duffle, followed by random facts sent to his phone every few hours.

"Buck?"

Thoughts being interrupted, he looked over at Eddie, who was staring at him amused. "What?"

"You've cleaned that door six times."

"Oh, sorry." He said before moving to another section of the rig, already looking forward to his next random facts of the day.

---

𝗧𝗼𝗺𝗺𝘆: Bees sometimes sting other bees.

𝗧𝗼𝗺𝗺𝘆: Giraffes are 30 times more likely to get hit by lightning than people.

𝗧𝗼𝗺𝗺𝘆: A chicken once lived for 18 months without a head.

---

As the shift finally came to an end, Buck took his time changing into his civvies. He needed to grab some coffee or something with caffeine to help wake him up so he could make it safely to Tommy's.

Opening his locker, he smiled at the blue post-it note secured to the inside of the door. His first random fact, chosen exclusively by Tommy, to try and cheer him up. It was special to him. Knowing that he had someone in his life who wanted to cheer him up, wanted to help in any way they could, even if it was just a few tiny words.

A soft knock on the locker room door had him turning on the spot. "Tommy?"

"Hey." Tommy grinned, making his way towards him. "You all ready to go?"

Buck was confused. "My jeep's here. I can drive."

"After the shift you just had? No way."

"But I-"

"Evan." Tommy took his duffle from him, slinging it over his own shoulder. "You're in no state to drive. We can pick it up tomorrow. It's not going anywhere."

Buck shut his locker door and nodded. "Okay, you win." Halfway to the parking lot, he poked Tommy in the side. "Can we pickup dinner on the way? I'm starving."

Tommy reached down, slotting their hands together. "I ordered your favorite on the way over here. Should be ready in ten."

"Fun fact: you're the best."

With a laugh and a kiss to Buck's temple, Tommy opened the passenger side door for him. "Fun fact: I know."

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 fandom #911 fic #intermittent writing #until there was you

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flashbangstars · 2 years

Text

How you and NCT dream met, (college version< 333) weirdly specific

your lovely writer is in college, so I wanted to make this like lowkey realistic because that's funny to me

Mark

you work at the university's tech center part time because you're broke and kinda know technology, women in stem am I right.

he came in one day the minute y'all opened looking like he literally ran there, his computer was in a separate bag and he placed it on the counter and stared at you helplessly

"I spilled a fucking water bot- I'm sorry I spilled a water bottle over my keyboard and my thesis is due in three hours please for the love of god can you help me.

you felt kinda bad, because with the damage he was describing it was going to take way more than three hours

"I'm really sorry, I think the earliest I can get this back to you is by tomorrow afternoon"

he looked like he was about to cry and you momentarily contemplated giving him one of the lollipops from the bowl of the counter but decided against it.

checking the clock, you didn't get off for another five hours, rifling through your backpack and pulling your laptop out of it placing it on the table

"ok here's what I can do, if you can work in the student center across the hall and promise you will get this back to me when your done, you can use mine so you can have it finished. Just leave your ID with me"

he picked his head out of his arms eyes wide, "I could fucking kiss you"

"I WON"T SORRY"

"no but thank you so much oh my god"

three hours when he returned, your laptop was unscathed and he looked a little less panicked

"thank you so much, seriously you are a complete life saver"

and when you opened your computer to a sticky note stuck on the screen saying "to the cute tech girl, I'm mark xxx-xxx-xxxx"

Renjun

it was 2 am on a thursday night before finals weeks, and you had been studying for weeks for the for your finals.

you currently were in desperate need of caffeine and new pens

the cvs was right below your apartment and 24 hrs, lowkey a safe haven at this point the amount of time you spend there

you were going down the aisle and found the pilot g2s in a pack for four black ones, and the last pack.

when all of a sudden, a small pale hand snatched it from the shelf as you were reaching for it.

"excuse me, I was grabbing those"

and the perpetrator looked at you and blinked "well I had it first"

"I was literally reaching for it, like you saw me hand out"

"well sorry"

AND HE JUST WALKED AWAY WITH YOUR PENS??

so you left cvs empty handed. you did have a coconut red bull though, but watching him check out as you left was painful

when you go to the elevators for your apartment, the double doors open and there he is the pen snatcher himself.

"so are you stalking me now?" you say little bit out of spite over the loss of your pens

"god I literally live here" he says the cvs bag in his other hand a stark reminder of your loss from earlier

and when he asked you to push the same button for your floor you almost screamed

"so what finals are you studying for" he asked from the other corner of the elevator.

squinting your eyes a bit, and scanning him over once.

he's a pen stealer AND he's hot??? what the fuck

"nursing, I'm up to my neck in flashcards" you finally answering giving in

"I'm engineering, I understand your pain

you two both spend the walk to your apartments talking about finals and the mental anguish you were both in until you go to your door

"you live here?" he glanced at your door, and then at the one next to you. with a nervous laugh he rubbed his neck and looked at you again "I guess we are neighbors"

HOT PEN SNATCHER IS YOUR NEIGHBOR??

later that night a knock at your door sounded, and when you opened the door, two pilot g2 pens were sitting on a flashcard that read "from your neighbor, Renjun :)"

Jeno

you and him were in a good amount of gen ed classes (for my friends who don't know what that is - its like math, english, science -non major specific classes)

he always sat in the back where you were and sat a couple seats over

but yall had never talked, like you would do that weird eye contact on the quad like, oh i sit next to you in this class, but you never say hi

one day you got assigned to be in a group together for a project, and things went downhill

"do you have any idea what we are supposed to be doing?"

"uhh no... do you?"

you both stared at each other for a second before realizing you're both kinda fucked

"ask him" you say pointing at the guy next to him

"no that's weird, I don't know him" Jeno said whisper yelling at you now

"You don't know me either?" you argue getting annoyed

"We've sat next to each other every class since the semester started, Yes I know you?"

oh, realizing you had never noticed he always was sat there

"I literally give you extra space for your big ass pencil bag"

now looking over the desk and noticing his things we scrunched into one corner in fact leaving you the bigger half of the desk leaving him with really only a notepad and water bottle in his space

"oh... well thank you" you nod feeling your face get hot at the small gesture

"my name is jeno though" he said

" I know your name is jeno, I'm y/n. thank you for the.. the desk space"

he smiled eyes disappearing into two little crescents

"no problem! so do you maybe wanna come over to mine tonight to work on the project" he asked eyes darting between your two eyes

"Yeah, that would be great" you said forgetting that with the in class 90 minutes you probably would be able to finish, but you were also so so down to go over and "finish the project"

(you ordered food and watched movies, and may have smooched a bit)

Haechan

you were bored one evening laying in bed on a thursday, being in college ment you either had a lot of down time, or literally none at all

opening up the tinder app you starting swiping out of boredom and seeing who would pop up

Haechan 21, was your third eligible bachelor to show up on the queue

you weren't gonna lie he was attractive, he had brown hair and and brown eyes and surprisingly as a male, knew how to pose in photos

swiping right, the big blue words "IT'S A MATCH" flashed across the screen and a odd sense of pride swelled in your chest that he had swiped on you first

switching over to spotify changing your music almost immediately a text bubble popped up on the screen

New message from haechan

wow he works fast

opening up tinder again you braced yourself for whatever monstrosity that could be awaiting you in the dm

but it was a simple "hey : )"

responding back with a "hey handsome" because you were feeling bold and this is the internet, throwing your phone down on the bed and throwing a sweatshirt on to complete the trek downstair to the vending machine for late night snacks

perks of university housing, snacks available whenever

leaving your room and making it to the elevator, settling into the corner for the ride down 10 floors

a couple floors later the doors open to another floor

a pair of feet shuffle in and stand across from you in the other corner

"so you think I'm handsome?"

disadvantage of university housing EVERYONE LIVES THERE

snapping your head up from your phone to be met with none other than the Haechan 21 from your tinder spree.

"nice to meet you, I'm haechan but you already knew that" he said placing his hand out to shake, you stared at the frustratingly pretty hand and against your better judgement, shook it

"y/n"

"would you wanna join me on my snack run" he said now staring softly at you still holding your hand.

"hmm, why not"

Jaemin

you had a routine, every monday, wednesday and friday.

wake up at 6, leave at 8, call mom and get coffee, then finally go to class at 9:35

on this monday, you decided to go to the new starbucks on campus in the student center, phone pressed against your ear your mom updating you on the family & life and vice versa

"one second mom" putting the phone to your side and ordering your drink

"can I have a venti Iced americano with a extra shot and 4 pumps of vanilla please"

The barista smiled and this is weird, had really pretty teeth?

asking for your name and writing it on the side of your cup

"I like your scarf" the barista with the pretty smile said pointing to th striped scarf wrapped around you

"oh thank you" you say pressing the phone back to your ear and walking away from the register.

"y/n" pretty barista called your name and placed your drink on the counter sliding it towards you with a devastatingly pretty smile

this part of your routine continued for the next two weeks, pretty barista and you turning out to have little conversations every time you ordered and him complimenting something about your outfit each time you went and then you'd leave and continue your phone call

pretty barista had worked himself a good 5 minutes of conversation time into your routine

on a tuesday when you were walking home from the library your name got called from behind you

turning, the one and only pretty barista was jogging towards you

"I knew it was you from the scarf, you always wear it" he said grasping one end of the scarf softly in his hands

his breath turning into vapor as he spoke due to the cold

" I tried really hard these last two week but I don't think you ever noticed so I figured I was gonna have to do it in person" he said rubbing the back of his neck

"ehh?" you said head tilting and focusing on not staring at only his pretty smile

"well uh, I wrote my number on your cup at least like 4 times these last two weeks and I watch you never actually notice and then just throw your cup away, you know you're really a creature of habit?" he said now conversation flowing more comfortably

"OH my god I'm so sorry" you say now remembering all the times he would personally hand you your drink and smile.

"it's ok! but do you actually want to go out sometime and talk? when I'm not in a apron?" he asked

you laughed softly and smiled back " I would love that" looking down at your phone now at the new contact "I'll text you Jaemin"

and you watched him jog back to the student center, in the same green apron you has grown accustomed to him being in

Chenle

you and "czhong" had been arguing in the floor group chat for thirty minutes now.

this was a regular occurance, he would say some dumb shit, you would argue back and the whole floor would have to bear witness to your petty argument for however long it lasted.

as of right now he was arguing why it was fair for you to blast harry styles in the shower, and he wasn't allowed to blast justin bieber when he showered

the problem was, when you did it. it was 3 pm during the day when most students were away, WHEN HE DID IT it was midnight on a fucking school night

standing outside the men's bathroom and yelling SHUT IT OFF did nothing to quell the issues so you had reverted to the group chat again

and this fucker was texting you, FROM THE FUCKING SHOWER

your rivalry between you two was vicious and he was in fact your sworn enemy

currently it was ass o clock on a sunday night and you were working a paper with a dying computer, and your charger was in the science lecture hall, halfway across campus that was definitely locked.

y/n: does annnyyyooonneee have a macbook charger I can borrow??

absolute crickets in the gc

czhong: I do > : )

please god no

czhong: if you need it, come to D402

why were the gods punishing you now? what had you done to deserve this in a past life

begrudging you grabbed your laptop and slide on your slipper and stomped across the dorm floor to the harrowing door of your sworn enemy

knocking aggressively and stepping back waiting for your impending doom

the door swinging open to reveal him, (why tf is he hot) standing hip popped and propped against the door frame

"well well well, what do we have here" he said giving you a very obvious once over

"hand over the charger and no one gets hurt" you said extending your hand.

"uh uh, you gotta do it in here, I only have this charger and I will not part with it" he said walking further into the room leaving the door open for you

what the fuck????

against your better judgement AGAIN you walked into the room

of course he had the one single room on the floor

he gestured to the desk against the wall with the charger cord on it and pulled out the chair for you. smiling evily the entire time.

plopping down you opened your computer plugged it in and put your headphones on, as he went back to his bed and took his laptop out and placed it back onto his lap

somehow, three hours passed of you spending time in the enemy's lair. you both working in a silent lull.

closing your laptop at the 3 am mark. you looked towards the bed again and stood up. "thank you" you said genuinely and he smiled

" you know I think we work well, let me know if you ever wanna borrow the charger or just come keep me company" he said leaning his back against the wall and and looking all SMUG

scoffing and walking to the door and opening it, you turn around one last time staring him down.

"fine"

Jisung

it had been a fucking day.

you had woke up late for lecture and had to embarrassingly walk in ten minutes late taking a spot in the back

you had slept terribly and had finally gotten to be 2 hours before your alarm was supposed to go off

now you were fighting off sleep aggressively in class , you had a hour left to go and were currently losing the battle in staying awake

placing your elbows on the desk and feeling your head slowly nod off you contemplated the idea of slip and slowly slide forward on the desk

until

BANG

a giant crash sounded throughout the entire room and the class all moved to stare at you

you had slide down your desk, and had knocked your hydroflask off the desk onto the tiles floor causing a fucking loud ass crash throughout the entire lecture hall

you could die right now actually

take me now please

hanging your head as the class laughed at the mishap a second loud crash sounded throughout the room

whipping your head to the side, making eye contact with the boy who sat down your room, staring back at you already. his hand positioned at the end of his desk in a sweeping motion

had he pushed his water bottle of his desk.... in .... solidarity of you??

had he really pulled a freshman 101 mistake to help with the mass amount of embarrassment you were facing

more importantly, was he single??

smiling back at him and nodding you acknowledged his sacrifice in your honor

once class had finally ended you packed your things and ran out of there as fast as you could to escape imminent embarrassment

until you realized you had forgot one thing

your fucking water bottle

turning around with the shame weighing heavy on your shoulder you came face to face with your prince charming once again, now holding a yellow water bottle in addition to his black on that sported a new dent

" you forgot this" he said extending the hand that held yours

"do you happen to be single" fuck it

his face flushed red entirely and he stifled a laugh out of shock

"im sorry let me try that again" clearing your throat and making eye contact "I'm y/n it's nice to meet you, are you free currently"

his face started to lose a bit of the redness and the hand that had been covering up the bottom half went down and rested at his side

"jisung, and I totally do happen to be free right now" he said

"how convenient!"

---------

the tinder elevator thing lowkey happened to me, but he wasn't smooth and cool about it. he just stared at me and then messaged me about it after. men suck lowkey

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months

Text

Same as it ever was 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: Oh my, we be sad gurls and bois.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

When Pete rumbles with snores, you move to the couch, hoping for what little sleep you can summon. You can't lay there beside him knowing what you know. You can't steam in the spite of knowing that he can sleep just soundly while sneaking around.

Two wrongs can never make right. You're not absolved. Far from it. You're mad. At him. At yourself. At life.

As you drift in and out, the apathy comes. You can't care. If you let yourself feel, you'll fall apart. You don't have that choice. Someone has to hold it together for the kids.

You get up first, like most mornings. You're restlessly impatient to get the day started if only to get away from that house. From the husband who isn't much of one.

Simone and Malik sit at the table eating cereal as you check your phone. You're on track so far. As if fate is throwing you a soft ball, the morning is going smoother than ever.

You get the kids packed and in the car. Every step is taken on habit alone. You walk them to the school doors and wish them a good day. Then you go back to your car and idle in silence. You're empty, you have nothing left.

You make yourself pull out and join the snailish roll of traffic through the school zone. Your drive to work is over before you know it as you stay locked in a trance. Before you just went through the motions, now it's like you're a ghost, floating aimlessly from one place to the next.

You enter the office, the walls a blur in your vision as you find your way blindly to your desk. Your head is pounding. Amid your early morning scramble, your desperation for distraction, to think of anything but reality, you hadn't even had a coffee. Your entire being throbs from the caffeine withdrawal.

You cup your forehead as you boot your computer. Eventually you'll get up and grab a cup of the weak break room brew. You lean heavily on the armrest of the chair and wiggle your mouse.

For once, you're thankful to be at work. No fighting kids, no laundry, no scoundrel husband. But you're there and it's just as hard to live with yourself.

"Morning, sunshine," Mr. Hansen's booming tone has you careening back in your chair as he comes to lean on the corner of your desk, "aren’t you bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Long night, huh? Husband finally loosen you up a bit."

You give him the daggers. That look that says 'enough'. Your motherly chagrin blazing at full force. He winks and laughs as he taps the end of your nose.

"You're real cute when you're pissed off, you know that?" He puts a hand on his hip, smoothing his index and thumb of his other across his mustache.

"Mr. Hansen," your voice is gravelly with dry fatigue, "is there something I can do for you?"

"Well, I can think of a certain wakemeup," he snickers, "but I'm thinking that you're not really into it. Still, you look like you could use it."

You huff and turn your chair to glare up at him. Can't he bother anyone else? He had his fun, he humiliated you, he made you hate yourself. So what else does he want?

"If you don't mind," you push your chair back and stand, "I'm going to get some coffee."

"Oh, sounds fun," he shoves away from the desk and trails after you, surprising you as he stretches and arm across your shoulders, "this company shit, it's garbage. How about I make you my own personal brew? I got a keurig in my office, just got some French Vanilla–"

"No thank you," you grumble and pull away from him.

You enter the kitchen first as he continues his incessant pursuit. He likes Malik when he wants to tell you about his legoworld. You go to the machine and find the carafe empty. You rinse it and fill the tank.

"You're mad about yesterday," he says as he leans on the counter, "if you're into snuggling, you coulda stuck around–"

"No," you growl as you measure out the coffee grounds.

"I let you go take care of the crotch goblin so I thought we'd be square–"

"Mr. Hansen, it's not you," you close the lid and flip the switch, "really."

"Ah, got it, it's the hubby. He's not taking care of his marital duties, huh?"

"Please, sir, it's not… it's not that," you falter as the lie sticks on your tongue. "Tired, need coffee."

"You look like you need sleep," he shifts closer as you stare at the slow trickle of coffee, "tell you what," he lowers his voice, "you come in my office, give me a good tug and I'll let you sleep in a meeting room. How's that? I'll make sure you get your eight hours."

You open the cupboard, taking out your mug from the bunch of mismatched porcelain, and set it on the counter. You can't even look at him. Not only because he repulses you but he reminds you of how pathetic you truly are.

"I'm good," you insist, "thank you, sir."

He scoffs, "I'm giving you something you're not getting elsewhere. Action and sleep," he runs his knuckles up your sleeve, "beggars can't be choosers, can they?"

You look at him. You're so fucking exhausted that your eyes are too dry to eke out a single tear. It's the only thing keeping you from tipping over the edge.

He smirks and looks at your blouse, reaching to pinch one of the front buttons, "look at that, all put together."

You glance down at the misaligned buttons. You don't even care. You're a mess. You're old and used up and unwanted. Even he only wants to get off, it doesn't matter who does it. At the end of the day, he'll be just as happy to do it himself.

You're speechless. It's nothing like shock. It's exasperation. Are all men really like this? Is this what Pete does? Is she some girl at the company?

"Forget it," you take your empty mug and spin in your low orthotics.

You stride out and stumble to your desk. You can do this. You just have to get through the day. And then what?

Get the kids, go home, cook dinner, do homework, bath time, bed for them, clean the endless mess…

Tomorrow? The same thing, over and over, until what? Until when? When do you admit defeat?

Hansen struts out of the breakroom. You look up as you see him sipping from a mug; your mug. He meets your gaze as he drinks deeper and passes by.

You wonder the same thing about him; when will he give up?

🗄️

You feel yourself slumping lower and lower. Your eyelids are scratchy and burning as you fight to keep them open. You cup your chin in your hand, elbow planted on your desk as the emails blur before you. You can do this…

In a minute, you’ll get up and get a coffee, undisturbed, and really start working. You won’t fall asleep. How could you? Right here in your office chair. On the best nights, you can barely sleep in your own bed. Lately, it’s only been bad nights.

Once you find the energy, you’ll get up. You swear you will. It’s all you have to look forward to. That cup of coffee. You can smell it. You know it’s burnt by now, stale and bitter, but your stomach growls for it.

A few more minutes.

You hear snorts, strange noises that seem to rumble from within you. The clacking of keys and soft clicks continue, almost forming a rhythm as your screen ripples to bars of colours. You feel a weight over you and a sudden shift.

You hit the floor, bouncing on your ass as your seat hits your shoulder. You look up as you awake, only realising then that you dozed off. You blink at your coworkers before focusing on the figure glaring down at you. Mr. Hansen has a hand in his pocket and a foot on the bottom of your chair. Shit.

“Working hard,” he muses tritely.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stutter, disoriented. You can’t believe you fell asleep. You hope this is just a dream, if so. “I… I didn’t–”

“Get up,” he demands.

You scramble to get to your feet. You reach for the chair and he kicks it further away. You’re overly aware of your audience. No one will look directly at you in fear that they might draw Hansen’s attention, but it’s obvious by the lack of typing that they are very aware of the scene.

“I’m very sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to. I was– I’ll stay awake. You don’t have to worry.”

“Go home,” he says curtly.

“Home? No, I can make it through the day. It was a mistake.”

“Go. Home.” He repeats pointedly, “this isn’t a hotel.”

“Please,” you murmur, “please, Mr. Hansen,” you clutch your hands together, trying not to speak too loud, embarrassed as your voice cracks, “I–”

“Don’t make me call security,” he warns as he steps back on one heel, his posture victorious. He arches a brow in challenge. You’re certain he’d love to see that, you dragged out like an intruder. “Come back Monday, well-rested, and HR will deal with your disciplinary report.”

“What?” You gulp. In all your time there, you’d never been written up. Not once.

“Keep digging that hole.”

“Okay, okay,” you go to your desk and open the drawer to pull your bag out. You hook it on your shoulder and turn around, nearing him as you reach for the coat hung on the back of your chair. He watches you with a smug smirk, “I’ll be back Monday.”

“We’ll see.”

His ominous words put you on edge. You recoil and stare at him. What does he mean by that? You’re not stupid enough to ask. You put your head down and march out, burning with embarrassment as you pass your rapt audience.

“Hey,” Hansen claps his hands, “back to work.”

🗄️

You barely make it home. You set an alarm as you get in the front door and collapse on the couch. You don’t care that it’s lumpy and uncomfortable, you don’t care about anything. You forget all your worries for the blackness that clogs your mind.

As quickly as you close your eyes, your ringer goes off. You wake with a groan and roll over, shoulders cramped and stiff as you reach for your phone. Two o’clock already. Your head pulses with the dregs of fatigue. You feel marginally better.

You fill a travel mug and head out to pick up the kids. Along the way, you can’t help but shrink behind the wheel as the morning pricks in your mind. You don’t expect things to go well on Monday.

You pass a Burger King and slow down. You don’t have the money for a Whopper. No, that’s not what you’re thinking. It’s not spending you’re planning on.

You pull in and get out. You enter and approach the counter, sheepish as a twentysomething greets you from the other side. You smile as you come forward.

“How can I help you ma’am?” He asks, hands on the side of the till.

“Oh, uh, I was… I was looking for an application,” you eke out. “For a job.”

He nods, you see the surprise flick in his lashes, “oh, well, we don’t have physical applications anymore but…” he reaches over to a stack of small flyers beside the till, “if you scan this QR code it will take you right to careers page.”

“Um, right, yeah, makes sense,” you take the slip as he offers it, “thank you.”

“You lookin’ to order?” He prompts with a strained smile.

“No, sorry, I gotta go get my kids,” you fold the flier and turn away, “have a good one.”

You head back to your car. You drop into the driver seat and curse. Fuck, your hips are killing you. You don’t imagine doing weekends standing behind a till will do much for that but you don’t have much of a choice. Even with the second job, you doubt you’ll be able to pay for the babysitter to cover it. What a stupid idea.

You shove the flier into your purse and back out from between the lines. You check the time as you set out to the school. You arrive just as the bell rings and the kids are let out into the yard.

You find Malik with the other grade ones as Simone seeks you out on her own, too cool to hang around with the other grade sixes. She can be a bit of a loner but not in a sad way. She can intimidate even you.

“Hey, how was school?” You ask as you take them to the car, “did you do anything fun?”

Malik tells you about the popsicle stick houses they made as you buckle him into his car seat and Simone does up her seat belt on her own. You nod and smile, humouring your son’s slightly lisping story.

“What about you, Simone?” You ask as you look over at her.

“I just read. I’m almost done number four,” she shows the cover of her latest fantasy series, “but they wouldn’t let me stay in the library during recess.”

“Good, you need the fresh air,” you tease, “speaking of, I was thinking we could go for a hike this weekend. How does that sound?”

“A hike?” She grimaces, “is dad coming?”

“Err, we’ll see,” you shrug, “I spend all day in the office, I’d like to get out before the winter gets here.”

“I’ll go if dad does,” Simone opens her book, “it won’t be any fun without him.”

“Daddy, daddy,” Malik claps his hands, “I love daddy!”

“I’ll ask him,” you nod and keep a frown from tugging at your lips.

You stand straight and gently close the back door. You round to the driver’s door and get it, quiet as you turn the engine. You’re not even good enough for your own kids.

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