#Fic Writing

[sister-lucifer]

Taken To Another World 

⊹₊⟡⋆A Multifandom Fantasy AU Themed 5K Celebration Writing Challenge⊹₊⟡⋆

Special thanks to @ghostboneswrites2 for inspiring this! 

Interested? Keep reading! 

There will be two prompts for each genre; a pair for fluff, a pair for smut, a pair for angst, and a pair for horror. Each prompt comes with its own criteria, so read carefully! 

How To Participate: 

Reblog this post (for reach! thanks!) 

Pick a prompt (or multiple) 

Write your fic 

Post it and tag me (feel free to send it to me directly if I don’t see it!) 

Use the tag #lucifer’s 5k fantasy challenge 

The fandoms this challenge is open to are as follows: 

Obey Me!, Creepypasta, Marble Hornets, Batman (and all related media), Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure (all parts), and any original characters/universes.

Don’t see your fandom? You’re still free to use these prompts (and please tag me if you do so I can see it,) but it unfortunately will not count as an entry for this challenge!

Rules: 

Feel free to pick multiple prompts, but you cannot enter more than one fic per prompt! 

The fics can be part of your own ongoing series, but they must be able to stand alone as their own piece without the additional context of the series 

Please state which prompt you chose somewhere on your post 

Feel free to cross post your work to another site such as Ao3, but please, do mention that it was part of my challenge 

Anyone can participate in this challenge, however I ask that minors stay away from the NSFW prompts 

You are free to bend the prompts as you wish, there is no mandatory time period or setting 

My inbox and messages are always open if you need to ask questions, consult me, or just want to discuss ideas!

The fics can be Character x Reader, Character x OC, or Character x Character; relationships can be platonic or romantic as you wish

Some prompts are written with pairs in mind; feel free to modify this to fit in as many characters as you’d like. Poly relationships included!

Absolutely NO incest OR pedophilia under any circumstances 

NO AI, NO using other people’s writing, and NO using a piece you’ve already written

Pay attention to the criteria! Prompt 1 will have a required quote, and Prompt 2 will have a required plot point/action

The Deadline is currently undecided. This will be updated soon 

Winners: 

I will choose up to 3 finalists for each prompt.  The finalists will be presented in a poll, and the readers will choose the winner. 

The winner of each prompt will get their own shoutout/promo post including an analysis of what I liked about their fic, & at least 3 fics I recommend from them and why. 

Does all that sound like fun? Good! Here’s your prompts:

Over The River, Through The Woods…

Fluff + Faeries

Prompt 1:  In a fit of rebellion, a naive royal flees from the castle and into the woods. They stumble upon a faerie who, against all they’ve ever been taught, seems rather…kind. 

Necessary Criteria: “Anyone can do a good thing if they try.” / “Well…how often do you try?”

Prompt 2: Fae don’t often leave their villages, except to gather. Unfortunately, one foolish faerie has found themself entangled in a trap left behind by a human hunter. Even worse, the human has returned to see what they’ve caught; although, they seem far more curious than hostile. 

Necessary Criteria: One of the characters teaches the other a new word in their native tongue. 

Magic Begins In Superstition, And Ends In Science…

Angst + Alchemy 

Prompt 1: The job of an alchemist’s apprentice is rarely an easy one. Magic is a fickle mistress, after all. When the apprentice’s companion tries to pull them away from their work, the argument gets heated, until the pressure becomes too much and causes an intense explosion…literally. 

Necessary Criteria: “You’re not even smart enough to understand what I do, and you think you get to tell me when to stop working?!”

Prompt 2: The alchemist’s work is starting to consume them. Blinded by their pursuit of knowledge, they recklessly decide to slip a bit of their newest experimental concoction into their companion’s meal without their knowledge. The alchemist convinces themselves this is all for the greater good, and surely nothing all that bad could happen, but soon comes to regret it. 

Necessary Criteria: A horrible transformation. 

The Tongue May Be Twice As Sharp And Thrice As Lethal As The Blade…

Smut + Swords 

Prompt 1: A rivalry between two swordsman gets a bit out of hand when the pair decide to make a salacious bet over a duel: whoever loses must play submissive to the other, starting from the moment they drop their sword. 

Necessary Criteria: “Don’t think I’ll surrender that easily.” / “Mm, I didn’t think you would…I like it so much more when you’re fiery.”

Prompt 2: A courageous knight rescues a royal from the clutches of peril, and their majesty simply can’t let their hero leave without thoroughly rewarding them for such bravery. 

Necessary Criteria: The pair narrowly avoid being caught in the act. 

Cursed Is The Man Who Dies, But The Evil Done By Him Survives…

Horror + Hexes

Prompt 1: Foolish explorers accidentally wander into a witch’s garden. One of them can’t resist plucking a berry from a bush, not giving it a second thought as they swallow it down, only for the horrific consequences of a curse to start taking form the next day. 

Necessary Criteria: “Please…you have to tell me you know how to make this stop.” 

Prompt 2: While treasure hoarding is generally frowned upon among honorable bounty hunters, some simply can’t kick the habit. This quickly proves to be a terrible mistake, though, as a cursed trinket starts to warp its owner’s mind and plunge them into a darkness that turns them on the one they love most. 

Necessary Criteria: Creative use of an everyday object as a weapon. 

Final Reminders:

Most importantly: Have Fun! 

Make sure to read the rules carefully! 

You’re always free to ask questions! 

Tag me in your entry + use the tag #lucifer’s 5k fantasy challenge! 

Happy Writing, everyone!

(even if you don’t plan to participate, please reblog and share this post so others will see it!)

[kookntae4ever]

This is me. Kinda jealous of all the writers who can write quickly because I can't.

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Hello fic writers, mind answering something for me?

Me personally, option 1 but wishes I was option 2

[ashleyfableblack]

"Okay… what about this one?" Queen Twilight tapped a hoof on the page. With a soft glow of her horn she drew out the complex symbol in the air as she sounded it out. "Vah… Lahk. Varahk? Varrac!"

Chrysalis smiled. "Perhaps…" She sleepily craned her neck to study her most recent clutch of eggs. A sticky green resin held the precious charges in place, dangling from a nearby rocky overhang. As the wind funneled through the natural arch, they gently swung, rocked as a baby in a crib.

With a puff of her cheeks she blew a gust of glittering pinkish light in their direction. The love energy swirled around the eggs like an octopus ink, clouding the air in a warm soupy fog before it was absorbed into the tiny grey orbs. The as-yet-unborn gobbling up the nourishment from their mother. Chrysalis gave a sleepy yawn and began to slowly drift to laying on her side,. She wondered if they, too would have violet eyes like their little lavender pony other-mother.

"Chryssi?" Twilight gave her wife a gentle prodding with her wingtip. "Honeybug?"

"MRZussaffm…" Chrysalis's eyes struggled open.

Twilight gave an pleading grin at the pitifully adorable sight of the little larvae nuzzled around her bughorse bride as they tucked into the translucent tresses of her cobweb-mane. "Chryssi…?"

Chrysalis chittered to one of the larvae and gave her an affectionate nip, removing a flake of molting chitin. "I'm sorry, beloved. I'm just-" she yawned again . "You know your pony naming conventions are so unnecessary to our changelings. They're hatched knowing their designations through the hive-mind."

Twilight pouted with a pleading smile as she leafed through the pages of the incredibly ancient book. "I know it's a point of cultural confusion between our races, beetlebum. That's why I'm trying to incorporate more of your culture and try some names more familiar to your people and your people's history- while at the same time educating myself on the Ancient Equish language and history." She held the book aloft in her magic with a prideful flourish, still carefully keeping her place in its pages. "THUS, we are using one of your old journals from the pre-Sucrosian Period!"

Chrysalis sighed and gave a playful roll of her eyes in surrender. She had to chuckle. When Twilight was like this, she truly couldn't deny her little wife anything. She watched with interest as Twilight opened her old journal. Two of their larvae quickly skittered from the navy waves of her wife's mane to climb on the millenia-old manuscript. Excited to help their ponymother, they chittered happily, holding the page in place with their forelimbs.

"So…. Varrac?" Twilight asked with a bright, curious smile.

"Well, she was good with snakes."

Twilight looked from the ancient book to one of the tiny changeling larvae cuddled into her crest of alicorn chest-fluff. "Are you a 'Varrac'? Are you going to be good with snakes?"

The tiny face lit up like a Hearthswarming bonfire at her ponymother's excited smile. She hissed out her tiny forked tongue and wiggled her little caterpillar-like rump of a tail segment. Twilight fawned with motherly pride and nosed at the tiny changeling babe. "I'll bet you will be. Of course you will. You look just like a Varrac."

Chrysalis adored moments like these, lazy afternoons together with her wife, watching her excitement and pride as she learned new things. Pouring over old volumes of any sort, Twilight came to life in a whole other way. Knowledge was her passion.

"Let's see here… What about… This one, V….Vaaa….Varghan?"

Chrysalis peered over the tome. "Vabam. As I recall she …was good with secrets…. good at telling them anyways."

Twilight crinkled her nose at that thought. Looking to one of the larvae she shook her head. "That doesn't sound like you, does it?" The tiny changeling babe tilted her head. returning her ponymother's smile and shake of the head. "No. You're not a Vabam. That's an honest little face if I've ever seen one. Hmmmm…."

She continued pouring over the swirling, magical symbols. With Chrysalis tutelage she was learning the art of reading them but still, the practice was FAR more complicated than any language she'd ever encountered. Deciphering the symbols was as much mental wrestling as it was arcane finesse, even compared to the darkest and most ancient of pony magics. "Okay, what about… Sssssurgat? No. I remember you said something once about that one. She liked to pick locks or…. Oo! Suluth! What about that one, Chryssi?"

After a few moments of silence Twilight looked up from the page. "Chrysalis?"

She chuckled. Chrysalis had dozed off. Their tiny charges, nestled secure in the tucked chitinous hooves of their armored queen-mother, mirrored her gentle snoring.

"Oh well." Twilight sighed. With a curling of the enchanted waves of her mane she drew the larvae gathered around her into her crest of chest floof. "I guess that can be enough for today."

The alicorn queen softly shut the tome. With a mother's love, she gently carried her little buggy babes with her as she sidled over to the slumbering bughorse. After a few moments of ooching she eventually found her way into the creche of her wife's limbs and In the enchanted air of sweet summer breeze the royal family drifted off together.

[the-broken-pen]

As another request, maybe the villain and hero are fighting , and the villain notices that the hero reacts suspiciously numb to his attacks. And when he taunts him about it, the hero sisimply says something to the effect of being used to it. And the villain is suspicious by the tone so he follow the hero and find out he’s abused by family . Cue villain saving the hero, comforting him and showering him with the love he never got

The villain should have known something was wrong the first time he hit the hero, and he simply braced, pain flickering along the muscles of his jaw, before hitting back. Face blank, a mask stronger than concrete. As if pain played no part, and it was just the give and return of kinetic energy, and nothing more.

He should have known when he said something so cruel it felt like graveyard dirt upon his tongue, and the hero merely stuttered for half a second, everything within him freezing, before he continued like nothing had happened. Nothing cruel in return, nothing biting in his face. Just–complete nothing.

“You never flinch,” the villain said, and it wasn’t a sudden realization, but it was close. Again, that momentary pause, like the hero had been grabbed and stopped by some otherworldly being on a molecular level. It allowed the villain to catch the next hit the hero threw at them.

“What?”

The hero, to his credit, didn’t sound upset, and in this line of work the villain was especially good at noticing the tiny pieces of that kind of thing. He just sounded confused, maybe.

“When I hit you. You don’t flinch,” the villain clarified. The hero just stared at them.

“You only really flinch if you aren’t used to it,” the hero said finally.

“Used to it?”

“You heard me,” the hero replied, and this time, there was irritation behind his words.

The villain tossed the hero’s fist down, and the hero stumbled back.

“And you didn’t answer my question.”

“I wasn’t aware there was one.”

“Are you intentionally being annoying, or is it just natural for you?”

The hero’s breath shuddered.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry–you–I don’t want an apology,” the villain sputtered. This conversation felt above his pay grade; and he wasn't entirely sure why, either, which irked him, itching under his skin.

“So–” the hero snapped his jaw shut around the rest of the word, and it looked like he was doing everything in his power to stop himself from finishing it.

Before the villain could prod further–about the flinching, or any other confusing aspect of it–the hero blew out a breath, and said, “I’m done here.”

The villain blinked.

“You can’t just decide when a fight is over.”

“Watch me,” the hero said, but his voice didn’t have the heat that usually went along with that phrase.

“You’re a hero, isn’t this kind of your entire job? Finishing fights, not walking away from them?”

“I said, I’m done,” the hero snarled, and it was the first hint of emotion he had shown the entire day, explosive and aimed entirely at the villain. The villain was taken aback for a moment.

The hero turned and left before the villain could even think of a response. He didn’t look over his shoulder.

Of course, the villain followed him home.

The fact that he had been able to at all was something to be worried about.

He watched as the hero entered, shutting the door behind him. Heard the sound of his bag hitting the floor, his jacket being hung up. Normal, quiet little things. Shuffling through the kitchen, making a cup of tea. A quiet conversation with his mother.

The villain was about to leave when he heard the slap.

He was through the door before he realized he was moving, leaving the handle to slam into the wall.

He caught the barest edge of a conversation as he rounded the corner–a curse word, then a vile sort of thing that was somehow worse than anything the villain had managed to say in his entire life–and slotted himself neatly between the hero and his mother.

The villain caught her wrist before it could touch any part of the hero. His grip was too tight to be anything but painful.

The hero’s mother gaped at them.

A bruise was beginning to bloom across the hero’s cheek.

The hero was shaking, slightly, face tense and drawn as he stared at the villain. Like the villain was the unnerving thing in this situation, and the hand his mother still had raised was the normality.

A rage, raw and unfathomable, ravenous within him, descending down so deep into the white hot of fury that it passed anything that had a name, uncurled itself along his bones.

“Touch him again,” the villain seethed, voice shaking with all that feral untamed mess within himself, “and you lose the hand.”

“Villain,” the hero said quietly, and the villain had never heard him so meek.

How long did it take for a person to learn that kind of quiet?

“Villain, leave it.”

The villain didn’t release the hero’s mother’s–no. The woman in front of him wasn’t a mother. She was something twisted, and broken, and cruel, upper lip curled with displeasure. Not that the villain was within her kitchen; but that he had stopped her from hitting her child.

The villain wanted nothing more than to vomit on her spotless white tiles.

Maybe in another life she would have been the kind of person the hero, with his kind heart, would have saved before it got to this point.

Maybe in another life the villain would have let the hero try.

But that was not this life.

And there was a bruise blooming on his hero’s cheek.

“You have no right–”

“Did I not make myself clear?” He said, and it was black and poisonous in the air.

The woman in front of him swallowed, and for the first time, fear flickered across her face.

Good.

“Villain,” the hero said, voice strangled, and the villain turned to look at him.

“She’s hurt you before,” the villain said, and it wasn’t a question. The hero looked at him wide-eyed, and he wondered how many times the hero had walked into a fight with him with pre-existing injuries. Injuries he would pretend later that the villain had given him.

The hero swallowed, hard.

“Yes,” he whispered, and that was all the villain needed. He turned back around.

“The only reason you are alive right now is because I think killing you would upset him,” he informed her, and he watched her face pale. “That, and getting blood out of shoes is a bitch. Isn’t it, hero? See, you wouldn’t know. Nobody’s ever made you bleed, I’d wager, because if they had, you would understand it isn’t the kind of thing you do to someone you love.”

He grinned, feral.

“You’re going to leave,” he continued. “Matter of fact, you’re going to vanish. And you’re going to do it so well that if he wants, he’ll never have to think of you again. The only way you’ll ever see him again will be because he wants it to happen, do you understand me? If you don’t, we’ll make you vanish my way.”

The hero made a choked noise behind him. “I don’t think you’ll like that very much,” the villain confided in a whisper.

He wasn’t sure the woman in front of him was breathing.

“Hero,” he said after a long minute. He was going to leave bruises on her wrist. She was shaking, and it soothed some of the yawning rage within him. “Pack a bag.”

The hero vanished into the halls of the house.

The villain didn’t say anything, just stared at the woman in front of him, as if he looked long enough he would be able to see the rotten core inside of her that had made her this way. Turned her into something violent. Or perhaps, the thing that had been inside her since birth, broken and seething. Inevitable.

He didn’t like to believe people could be born evil.

He would make an exception.

The hero appeared back behind him as silent as a wraith, far faster than the villain had expected, duffel bag in one hand.

He wondered how long the hero had had a bag tucked away, packed and ready to run if it got too bad.

He wondered what the hero considered ‘bad enough’ and his jaw clenched hard enough he could hear the bones creak.

“That all you need?”

The hero nodded, mutely, and the villain finally dropped the woman’s hand. She pulled back, hissing as she rubbed her arm, but she had the sense to not glare at the villain.

He tipped his head towards the door.

“Let’s go,” he said, as gently as he had ever heard himself.

The hero followed him out, and they didn’t say anything until the villain’s apartment door locked behind the both of them.

The villain blew out a shuddering breath.

The hero looked like he wasn’t entirely there, eyes glassy.

“Hero,” he said softly, and the hero’s gaze snapped to his face. He stopped himself from reaching for him, a helpless effort to do something, to fix it. “Can I touch you?”

He made sure it didn’t sound like a demand, because if the hero said no, the villain would die before crossing that line, no matter how much it stung. A moment later, to his relief, the hero gave a jerky nod.

He moved slowly, a gentle palm on the hero’s jaw to tip it up, inspecting the bruise with pursed lips. He brushed away the tear that slipped down the hero’s cheek with his thumb, and left it there.

“It could be worse,” the hero offered quietly.

“The fact that it exists at all is worse enough,” the villain murmured, tipping the hero’s head back down. “I’m so sorry.”

The hero blinked, brow furrowing. “For what?”

The villain shrugged one shoulder. “That it happened. That it has been happening. That I didn’t notice.”

“I’m good at hiding it,” the hero said, like it was supposed to make the villain feel better.

“You shouldn’t have had to learn how to do that at all,” the villain said, and the hero’s lip wobbled.

The hero wavered slightly, like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He carried himself like the entirety of his body was an open wound, every second spent breathing a second spent in agony.

The villain couldn’t pretend he knew what this felt like, but he could do his best to soothe it as much as possible.

“Come here,” he said softly, and the hero melted into him, shaking as he tried to cry quietly and failed. He tucked the hero against his chest, and hand coming to curl into the hero’s hair as he let out a desperate keening noise.

He rested his chin on the top of the hero’s head. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered. “It’s not right now, but it will be, I promise. Even if it takes a while.”

The hero shuddered against him, then nodded, just once.

It wasn’t okay, but it would be.

The villain had promised.

And he never broke a promise.

[arcanefox207]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tags @magpiepills and @for-a-longlongtime 💜🩷🩵

Something random I am working on. The intent was something soft and intimate. Not so sure that it will stay the course…. Ok let’s be honest it probably won’t. 😅

You lightly bat your eyes open as you feel Joel tracing his fingers along the length of your body. His feather touch was gentle, as if he was trying not to wake you while he stole a secret moment with you.

His arm curls over your hip and his hand finds the softness of your inner thigh, sliding it up higher and higher until he is at your center. You feel him pause briefly before he drags his fingers over your opening and gently grabs a hold of you. The tiniest moan escapes your lips and he knows you are awake now. He places his mouth on your neckline for another kiss and whispers into your ear the lowest growl.

NP Tags (and anyone who has something to share please jump on in and get your writings out there)

@burntheedges @tonysopranosrobe @hier--soir @lotusbxtch @guiltyasdave

@hellishjoel @sixhours @yopossum @djarinmuse @pink-whiskey-woman

@chronically-ghosted @cavillscurls @alltheirdamn @pedrospatch @youandmeand5bucks

@rifflovesjoey @murder-wife @itwasntimethatdidit40 @sin-djarin @jessthebaker

💜🩷🩵

[theelizamanelli]

Tengoku

Reina Iyashi wants a normal, mundane existence until Satoru Gojo takes a special interest in her uncanny ability to bring people back to life (or so Itadori says) and offers her a job as his assistant at Jujutsu High. Tags: 18+, satoru gojo x female oc, boss x assistant, golden retriever x black cat, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, romance, grinding link to all chapters link to ao3

——————————————————————————————————

Chapter Eight

——————————————————————————————————

Slamming his hand onto the desk, Gojo stared at Reina with a grin on his face. He stood up straight, gesturing at the piece of cardstock he left behind.

Her eyes flitted to the paper before sliding up to meet his gaze.

A moment passed before Reina finally asked, “What is this?” with a slight shake of her head.

“An invitation.” Gojo replied, leaning back. 

“I can see that,” Reina sighed. “For what?”

“It seems that the people of Tokyo have finally realized what a true treasure I am,” He said with a theatrical arch of his arm, “Unlike some people.” He pointed towards Reina with an exaggerated scoff. 

You are invited 

to a banquet 

honoring 

Satoru Gojo

Reaching forward she lowered his finger with her hand, “What does that have to do with me?”

“I can’t go without my assistant.” He said, looking offended. 

“You have before, I’m sure.” Reina replied, beginning to organize the papers on her desk. Careful to avoid the invitation, she slowly moved her laptop to the side and opened it. 

He closed it with a snap, leaning his body over the desk - his face inches from her own. His blue eyes bore into hers, she shot him a look of irritation. 

“Please come with me, Iyashi.” He said, his breath warming her lips. 

Reina turned her head to the side, a slight pink gathering on her neck. With a deep sigh and a roll of her eyes she turned towards him, “Fine.” she said. 

She moved his hand off of her laptop with a rough flick and opened it.

Gojo smiled before straightening up, “Iyashi in a gown! Iyashi in a gown! Iyashi in a gown!” he chanted as he began to walk to his classroom.

——————————————————————————————————

A tendril of hair fell forward from the messy updo, splaying into Reina’s field of vision as she put on her earrings. Tucking it behind her ear, she stood up and admired her appearance in the mirror. 

The floor length gown was a dusty blue, high neck with no sleeves. She turned slightly to admire the back, her light skin on display until it reached the lower portion of her spine. 

Turning forward, she admired the high slit where a sliver of her legs could be seen when walking. She sat down at her desk to slide her white heels on before walking out into the living room.

Gojo stood near the counter, looking in the direction of the door. His navy blue jacket and pants tailored to his long body, he turned towards her with a warm smile. 

The sight of him in the suit nearly took Reina’s breath away. 

His tucked crisp white shirt, the tightness providing clear signs of his muscled torso. He opted for no tie, leaving the top two buttons unfastened. 

 His bright blue eyes remained uncovered, his hair slicked back with gel. 

Gojo’s gaze slowly dragged down her body before returning to her face. 

“If I had known this was how you would dress I would have invited you to dinner sooner,” he said softly, reaching his hand out for her. 

Reina rolled her eyes before placing her hand in his, “Shut up, Gojo.” her embarrassment fresh on her cheeks. 

The drive to the banquet hall was long, Reina began to fuss with her hair as pieces continued to fall and curl around her face - anxiety beginning to brew.

Gojo grabbed her wrist as she went to fix another, “It looks beautiful - stop touching it.” He moved his hand into hers with a comforting squeeze, placing them into his lap as he stared out the window.

Her breath hitched at the contact, she stared at where their hands rested together. She looked at his face, attempting to read his emotions with no success.

The town car pulled up to the banquet hall, allowing them time to slide out of the door. He didn’t let go of her hand until the first step, guiding her in front of him. They slowly ascended, Gojo one stair behind her. 

The venue space was filled with light wood flooring and high ceilings. There were circular tables adorned with elegant tablecloths and centerpieces. A long table sat at the opposite side of the room, Reina assumed this was where they placed the seat of honor.

As she took in the hall, people slowly began to greet Gojo. He politely accepted handshakes with a slight bow. Within seconds he was encircled, Reina being pushed softly to the outskirts. 

This hardly bothered her, it was what she had anticipated - she was only his assistant afterall.

Squinting she turned her attention to the rest of the room, attempting to scope out the bar. She took a tentative step in its direction when a hand wrapped around her bicep. 

“Where are you going?” Gojo leaned down, murmuring into her ear.

Surprised, Reina turned in his direction - the swarm of people had dissipated, now looking at the two of them standing together. 

“Getting a drink,” She said with a point of her finger towards the bartender. 

Gojo bit back a chuckle as he reached his free hand to hers, pushing it back towards her body, “I don’t know if anyone has ever told you, Iyashi. It’s rude to point.”

He maneuvered their bodies so that her arm was intertwined in his. She rested her palm on his hard bicep, it took restraint to keep from squeezing it. Reina turned her gaze to the ceiling, silently chastising herself.

“Are you praying?” He asked quietly, his gaze pointing forward. 

“No, Gojo, I am not praying,” She bit back, her free arm reaching over to grab onto his forearm with a threatening squeeze.

He laughed softly, guiding them towards the bar where he ordered two cocktails. There were various figures of importance that stopped him periodically to discuss matters that Reina had no interest in - tuning them out in favor of assessing guests. 

She had noticed that the women in attendance were staring at Gojo, whispering to their female counterparts. Intense gazes fixed on her, scoffing at their intertwined arms. 

A general call had been made for everyone to find their seats, Gojo led Iyashi over to the long table. Searching for a name card, she quickly noticed that she didn’t have one. 

Patting his arm, she whispered, “Have a seat, I’ll go find one somewhere else.” 

Reina took a step to the side in an attempt to separate from him, Gojo’s arm tightened - pulling her to his side.

He flagged down the attention of a staff member, “I am so sorry,” he looked down quickly at his nametag before continuing. “Sato, there isn’t a space for Reina Iyashi.”

“We apologize for the misunderstanding. Your assistant’s spot is actually at that table,” He gestured to a space near the door where guests had begun to sit down.

“I see, we will go sit there then.” He said with a smile, beginning to step in that direction.

“Your seat is here, sir.” he said quickly, pointing at the chair in the middle of the long table. 

“No, my seat is wherever Iyashi is.” He kindly corrected, moving them in the direction of where her name card was.

“Is there a problem?” An older man stepped towards them, his smile not reaching his crinkled eyes.

“No, Governor, we are just finding our seats.” said Gojo with a slight decline of his head. 

“Your seats should be here, with us.” He gestured to the rest of the political members who looked at them with confusion.

“Ah, they should be but they forgot Reina Iyashi’s. So, I’ll be sitting at that table with her.” Pointing once again to the door, she closed her eyes and pursed her lips. 

The prolonged interaction brought a growing heat to the back of her neck, her stomach tightening. 

“No, that won’t do.” The governor offered a half hearted smile in Reina’s direction before turning to the worker, “Fix this.” he said in a stern tone.

Staff members flooded forward to create room at the table for Reina. Pulling a chair seemingly out of nowhere. Gojo slid the seat out, gesturing for her to take her place. 

Settling into the table, Reina noted how tight the space had become. Gojo’s seat was notably closer to hers - his knee rubbing against her own.

The speeches stretched on through the night, guests of various backgrounds standing at the podium to remark on Gojo’s sacrifices for the community.

Noting his most heroic measures - including but not limited to rescuing orphans from a building set alight by curses and a recount of saving an elderly woman from being thrown from a bridge by another.

Reina stifled a laugh - recognizing how far fetched the stories sounded. If a stranger had heard these tellings they would surely have assumed they came from a story book or that he was simply a fraud.

Much to Reina’s dismay, Gojo was just a good person.

She had to consistently remind herself to adjust her face as yet another tearful woman attempted to wrap her arms around Gojo who politely declined in favor of a curt handshake. She finished her cocktail with a nervous gulp, starting on the next.

The Governor finally invited Gojo to the stage to accept his award, signaling the end of the speeches.

Shifting his chair backwards, he stood upright before taking his place at the podium. 

“It is an honor to receive this prestigious recognition. I had no idea you all liked me this much.” The crowd laughed and cheered in response. 

He grinned before continuing, “I would be remiss to not mention the diligent effort of Reina Iyashi.” He paused, turning to her. “Iyashi, would you please stand up?” 

Reina froze, staring up at Gojo - a pleading look in her eyes. He nodded his head at her encouragingly. She rose from her seat slowly, surveying the crowd.

“I owe all of my success in the past six months to this woman. Without her unwavering support, intense organization, and encouraging words I would not have been able to accomplish a quarter of what I have.”

“It is a privilege to serve you.” Gojo bowed before returning to his seat, he placed a hand on Reina’s lower back as the crowd applauded. 

In a desperate attempt to recover from the humiliation of being publicly complimented, Reina quickly finished her fifth drink of the night. 

He watched as she set her empty glass on the table, Reina hiccuped as the pink attempted to fade from her cheeks. 

Gojo leaned forward, “Are you ready to go home?” his hand lightly touching her shoulder.

“Oh, god, please?” She replied quickly. Reina pushed her chair out and stood, swaying slightly.

Gojo steadied her with his arm around her waist, “Iyashi, don’t tease me with those words.” 

He thanked the Governor before leading them to the doors, offering goodbyes as he walked past. 

A few women stood by the exit, striking Reina with a jealous stare. Unable to stop herself, she let out a giggle - clapping her hand to her mouth.

Gojo bit back a laugh, saying a quick farewell as he hurried Reina down the stairs. 

Settling into the back of the town car, Reina noticed how light her head felt. She slid her hands along the leather seats before turning her gaze to Gojo.

He let out a weary sigh before shrugging his jacket off his shoulders - unfastening two buttons and rolling his sleeves up. His head fell back against the seat as he stretched his legs wide, his eyes closing.

Reina objectively recognized that Satoru Gojo was a handsome man - she hadn’t realized to what extent until the moonlight slid over his hair and cheekbones.

He was devastating.

Instinctively she reached her hand out towards him, running her fingers through his slicked locks - it was deceivingly soft.

Gojo let out a low groan before asking, “What are you doing, Iyashi?”

“It should be a crime to be this handsome,” She replied softly, her confidence growing as the streetlights passed - the five cocktails finally catching up to her. 

“They should lock you up.” Reina giggled, her hand falling to the back of his neck. 

Gojo turned his head slightly to watch her, “It surely would save you from having to deal with me.”

She pouted slightly, “I like dealing with you.” She pushed his shoulder. “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll kill you.”

“Too late, I already recorded it.” She gasped and he let out a laugh, shoving her knee playfully. 

“I’m kidding, Iyashi.” His head lazily fell to the side, his eyes grazed down her body.

Her hair fell softly around her face as she leaned forward, bracing herself against his thigh, “You’re funny - you shouldn’t be funny and hot.” 

The bumps of the road knocked Reina off balance, causing her to surge forward. Landing on the floorboards in between Gojo’s legs, she placed each hand on one of his knees to sit herself up.

Reina aimed her gaze up, noticing that Gojo had shifted slightly in his seat - his pupils notably dilated as he stared down at her. She admired his sturdy thighs - running her hands up them and towards his hips. Stopping short of the zipper, her head tilted to the side as she wondered what was underneath.

She would never admit it out loud but Reina had spent many a sleepless night with her imagination - attempting to recreate it.

Reina straightened and re-adjusted, dragging her hands back down his thighs until she reached his knees - pushing off of them unsteadily to seat herself on his lap. Her dress gathered around her thighs, leaving her legs bare. 

She rested her hands on his chest, “So handsome, Gojo.” she whispered.

His chest began to rise and fall at a faster pace, his eyes dragging over her lips momentarily before returning to her eyes, “You’re killing me…” he said in a low voice. 

Her hands slid along his bare skin where the buttons left him exposed, he let out a deep groan as he fisted a portion of her dress. She leaned forward, her fingers tracing his collarbones before sliding around his neck.

“I wore blue for you,” She murmured into his ear. “To match your eyes.”

“Fuck, Iyashi.” He growled, shifting underneath her. The movement forced Reina to push down onto Gojo���s zipper. The growing hardness caused a sprinkle of pink to form on her cheeks. 

She let her head fall back as she grinded against him, a sweet moan slipping from her lips.

“Is this all for me?” She teased, her chin falling back down to meet his eyes. 

“Oh, Iyashi,” His eyes darkened as his face neared hers, “That’s not all of it.”

Reina bit her lip, a giggle springing from her as her head fell onto Gojo’s shoulder. She yawned, watching the cars speed past.

The last thing she remembered was floating through the air, the smell of a familiar cologne, and the faint feeling of soft lips warming her forehead.

——————————————————————————————————

chapter nine

[unpredictable-probabilities]

Intertwining Symphonies || Chapter 1: Sunday at the Park with Robyn

Summary:

A small mishap at the park leads to new friendships and an invitation.

Note:

I originally wrote this as a gift to @patchyegg87 <3

I hope you like it, too!

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1,293

Square/Prompt: B2 - Free Space |  @dreamlingbingo

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Family, Family Fluff, Ice Cream, Friendship, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Kid Fic, Single Parents

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59036896

—

“Can I get both vanilla and chocolate?” Robyn was practically bouncing on his heels, barely holding himself still enough to stay in the queue with Hob.

“Of course, duck,” Hob smiled at the sight of his son still bursting at the seams with energy even after running around the park for almost an hour already.

Hob had packed the usual snacks for Robyn, but today an ice cream truck stopped by and his son practically dragged him over.

It was finally their turn to place their order, and Hob ordered a scoop of vanilla and a scoop of chocolate in the biggest cone size available.

As he got his wallet from his pocket, something blunt hit the back of his head.

“Ow!” Hob instinctively put a hand up to where the pain was beginning to sting and turned around to see what happened.

A man wearing a black shirt with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows was jogging towards them. “I’m terribly sorry,” he said in a voice deeper than Hob would have expected and picked up a blue plastic Frisbee from the ground. “My son and I had been playing. Please, let me pay for the ice cream,” he took his wallet out.

“What? No, that’s not necessary,” Hob quickly paid for it himself and handed the cone to Robyn.

“Are you okay, dad?” Robyn asked in concern as he took it.

“Yeah, no harm done,” Hob smiled at his son before turning to the man. “Really, it’s alright.”

Their small group moved to the side when other people queued up at the truck, then a boy with fair skin and raven hair ran up to the man and partially hid behind him, peeking up at Hob.

“I’m sorry, Mister,” he mumbled.

“This is my son,” the man put a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s our first time playing Frisbee and I’m afraid we require much practice.”

“I didn’t mean to throw it so far,” the boy looked down at his shoes.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hob said reassuringly. “My son hit me with a baseball once while we were playing. That’s just part of it.”

“Ooh! Can we play Frisbee with them, dad?” Robyn asked through a mouthful of chocolate ice cream. “We’ve never played that before.”

Hob looked at the man questioningly. Robyn had played with other kids at the park before, but none of them looked as shy as the boy did.

The man looked down at his son. “What do you say, dove? Would you like to play with them?”

The boy nodded with a small smile. “Yes. I would.”

“Yay!” Robyn cheered, raising his arms in the air.

“Hey, careful not to spill your ice cream,” Hob chided fondly.

“I’m Morpheus,” the man held out his hand. “This is my son Orpheus. And yes, I am aware of our awfully similar names,” he smiled.

Hob shook the man’s hand and returned the smile. “That just means it’ll be easier for me to remember. I’m Hob, and this is Robyn.”

“Robyn with a Y!” Robyn declared, already halfway through his ice cream cone. “I know a spot where we can have lots of room to play. Come on, before the other kids arrive!” He ran off towards a clearing in the park.

Orpheus looked up at his father questioningly, who smiled and nodded. Then the boy took off after Robyn.

“You’ve really never played Frisbee before with your son?” Morpheus asked as they followed their kids at a more leisurely place while keeping them in sight.

Hob shook his head. “Nope. We played catch and baseball, but we haven’t tried Frisbee yet. What games do you and Orpheus usually play?”

Morpheus fell silent for a moment, his long eyelashes catching the light of the sun as he blinked. “I have not had much opportunity to spend time with him. Until recently. All games are still new to us.”

Hob could sense that there was a story there, but he had no business prying so he just offered an encouraging smile. “Great, there’s a lot to discover. Let’s start with Frisbee.”

So they did; Hob and Robyn against Morpheus and Orpheus.

It seemed that Orpheus had already learned a great deal from his mistake earlier, as he was much better at it now and the disc rarely got too far away whenever it was his turn to throw.

Robyn was the better catcher. He had more than enough energy to dive and jump just to catch the disc, though he often got too excited whenever it was his turn to throw and his aim went wide.

Hob and Morpheus weren’t much good at either throwing or catching, but their children didn't mind and in fact even evidently enjoyed seeing their dads fumble.

Hob shared the biscuits and fruit juices that he packed, which kept up morale and started a conversation between Robyn and Orpheus about their favourite snacks.

Afterwards, Hob and Morpheus sat on a bench to catch their breaths while their children played with the others at the playground.

“I cannot remember the last time I ran around so much,” Morpheus said before taking a sip from a water bottle. “Children truly have an indefinite repository of energy.”

Hob chuckled, wiping sweat from his forehead with a hand towel that he always brought whenever going to the park. “You don’t need to tell me. I’m glad that those two are getting along well, though.”

Morpheus nodded. “Indeed. It is good to see Orpheus so cheerful.” A soft smile appeared on his face as he watched his son laugh brightly while on the seesaw with Robyn.

“He would remember this, you know,” Hob told him. “You brought him to this park. He would ask you again, and you’d have more time to spend together.”

“I certainly hope so. After the divorce, I got so caught up in my work that he often stayed with his mother. It’s only recently that I…” Morpheus trailed off, fidgeting with the bottle cap. “I apologise. I do not intend to spring this all upon you.”

“Nothing to apologise for,” Hob reassured him. “I’m divorced with Robyn’s mom too, and at first it was challenging to figure it all out. But you’ll get there.”

Morpheus looked at him, then at his backpack of provisions. “You seem to be rather well-adjusted now.”

Hob chuckled. “It just takes practice, my friend.”

Morpheus tilted his head slightly to the side. “We are… friends?”

“Um…” Hob blinked. “Yeah, if you want to?”

“Dad!” Robyn came running towards them, towing Orpheus in hand. “Can I invite Orpheus to my birthday next week? I wanna show him my comics!”

Morpheus turned to Hob in surprise, looking just as uncertain as Hob felt when Robyn asked if they could all play Frisbee.

“Of course you can, duck,” Hob smiled at his son and Morpheus. “Orpheus can bring anything he wants to show you, too.”

“Father!” Orpheus’ face brightened as he seemed to realise something. “I wish to have Robyn listen to our song! He said they have a piano!”

“Oh I can’t play it,” Hob quickly said, smiling sheepishly. “It’s my mum’s. We have it in our house because she was a pianist, and she still likes to play whenever she visits.”

Morpheus’ expression was fond. “I play the piano as well. If you would allow it, I can play Orpheus’ song so he may have Robyn listen to it.”

“Sure, no problem!” Hob said perhaps a little too enthusiastically. He loved music, and shared Robyn’s excitement with making new friends. “Um, should we exchange numbers, then? I’ll text you the address.”

“Of course,” Morpheus smiled as he took out his phone. “It’s what friends do, is it not?”

—

Note:

Probably the most chill Dreamling fic I've written so far. They deserve to relax and have fun every once in a while~

Chapter title is from the musical "Sunday at the Park with George".

—

(Dreamling Bingo Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[whatsnewalycat]

Made this for u 💝

[king-nyx]

Say it with me now

You are never late to a fandom. Your fic is never "invalid" for being "late". Your fic doesn't need a high word limit. Your fic does not need a high standard. Your fic does not need to be highly popular. Your fic isn't less valid than a popular author's fic. Your fic isn't inheritly bad. Your fic is amazing. Your fic is valid. The only thing that matters is that you're having fun. Fandom is not consumption and consumerism. Fandom is fun, free and for the people. Fandom is not a popularity contest. We're all nerds at the end of the day.

[chodzacaparodia]

It's frustrating that you can come up with the plot of an entire fic in just a few seconds, but writing it all down can take anywhere from never to forever.

[wishingforatypewriter]

Me to my draft: You are a oneshot.

The draft: Wrong. I am the pilot chapter of a multichapter fic that you do not have the bandwidth to take on, but will haunt your every waking thought anyway.

[the-broken-pen]

Hello! i love your cat villian one so much maybe do more??????

but ignore if not (AMAZING BLOG EVER)

The protagonist was dying. They were sure of it, they could feel it, this all consuming terror and in the way they couldn’t draw a full breath into their lungs, like it was funneled through a straw and it was killing them–

Their vision went blurry and they crumpled against the wall, curling into a half-hearted ball over their knees against the baseboard. There was blood splattered over their hands. They just–if they could just–a tiny bit of air–

A hand, warm and gentle, appeared at the nap of their neck, tipping their head up to look at their face.

The protagonist blinked, and the villain was there, and they were watching them die, and oh god they were going to get fired–

“Breathe,” the villain said, and it sounded like they were under water. A million miles away. Point Nemo. Their sister had told them about that once, in the middle of the night as they sat on the roof.

It must be so lonely, she had said, head tipped to the stars. To be so far from everyone else.

The protagonist had wanted to say, I don’t need to be far from everyone else to feel lonely. I’m Point Nemo, can’t you see? But they hadn’t, had just hummed something in agreement, and the villain was telling them to “breathe,” again.

I’m trying, the protagonist wanted to sob. I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m trying.

“Protagonist,” the villain cupped their face in their hands, and through the blurring of the protagonist’s vision, they looked absolutely terrified.

Which didn’t make sense, because the villain always knew exactly what to do in every situation. It was comforting to be in the shadow of someone who knew exactly how they fit into the world.

The villain said something, and the protagonist blinked.

“What?” they managed. The villain snapped their head to look up at them.

“I said, I’m calling your mom.”

Abruptly, terror was flooding their veins again, and they slammed the phone out of the villain’s hand and onto the concrete.

The villain just watched them, concern stark on their face.

“Protagonist–”

“You can’t call her,” they gasped out, chest tight. “She’ll worry and–I can’t do that to her, not after my sister, she can’t do that again.”

Point Nemo. One million miles away.

Really, though, just six feet down.

It felt the same.

“Okay,” the villain said, low and soothing, like they were a scared child. They were. “Okay, I won’t call her, but I need you to breathe,” they emphasized.

“I’m trying,” the protagonist bit out, sucking in air that didn’t seem to be doing anything. How could it not be doing anything? This was one of the worst things that could be happening to them, let alone in front of their boss. They were supposed to be stronger than this, they were stronger than this, so why were they shaking against the baseboard in the hallway of their base. Idly, they looked down at the blood coating their arms, and couldn’t remember whose it was.

“I don’t know how to help you,” the villain admitted, voice breaking.

The protagonist couldn’t get their hands to stop shaking.

If they could just draw a breath–

Blood is harder to get off than you would expect. It clings and clings and clings–

The villain followed their gaze down, and a moment later, they had a wet wipe in their hand, wiping down the protagonist’s hands with an efficiency they could never hope to imitate.

They flinched away from the cold of it a second too late, and the villain frowned.

“You’re okay,” the villain promised, and the protagonist wanted to believe them.

They still choked on the next breath they tried to take, and it hurt and was miserable and the protagonist just wanted it to stop.

The villain said something that sounded like their name again, and they wanted to respond but felt the words get caught in their ribs, and the villain vanished and–

They were holding a cat.

Their shoulders untensed immediately, hands curling softly into the fur, as softly as they could manage while shaking, and they bit their lip to keep from crying at how useless they felt. How could they not figure out how to use their own hands? They bit back a sob, because nothing was working and they couldn’t bear to hurt a cat.

The cat curled itself further against the protagonist’s chest, tucked into their arms in the hollow between their knees and their abdomen.

The villain was–oh.

Oh, the protagonist was so stupid.

The villain was kind, kinder than they deserved, probably, turning into a cat just to make the protagonist stop having a meltdown in their hallway.

The protagonist just needed to get their legs to stop being numb, and then they could stand up and go hide in the bathroom until their body remembered how to do its job, and stop bothering the villain with their stupid problems and panic.

And then, abruptly, the villain began to purr, rumbling into the protagonist's chest.

Some knot deep inside of them that they hadn’t realized existed uncoiled, and they sucked in a breath so deep they thought it would never end. They choked on it on the way out, but the villain simply kept purring, so they tried again, and again, until their vision unblurred and the ache in their lungs had vanished.

“Okay,” the protagonist murmured to themself. Sometimes, they could trick themself by talking in the tone they used on frightened children when out on patrol. “You’re okay, I’m okay, everything is fine.”

They moved to set the villain down, but the villain dug their claws into the protagonist’s arm, nudging their face into their bicep.

Are you really okay? They seemed to ask, and the protagonist didn’t have an answer to that. They could breathe, and feel their toes, and they could remember–oh.

They could remember.

Blood on their hands.

The villain started purring again, and the protagonist burst into tears, burying their face into the villain’s fur. The villain let them, nudging the side of the face every so often in a reminder to breathe.

They stayed like that, until the protagonist’s tears had dried, and their heart only panged a little bit when the villain jumped down out of their arms and onto the floor in front of them.

A blink, and the villain was in front of them again, eyes filled with concern as they grabbed onto the protagonist’s elbows.

“You’re okay,” the villain breathed, and then the protagonist was pulled into a hug so warm they never wanted to leave. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” the protagonist agreed, face tucked into the villain’s chest.

The villain simply hugged them tighter.

Point Nemo had never felt further away.

[lgbtlunaverse]

Nothing will dispell the "the curtains were just blue" myth faster than writing something yourself, because the amount of pretentious symbolism i am putting in my silly little fanfics is ridiculous. I mean SO much with these words, literally every single one of them. This fic has twenty five typos and zero correct uses of punctuation but if there's curtains you bet your ass I put thought into what colour they were.

[theimprobable1]

[theelizamanelli]

Tengoku

Reina Iyashi wants a normal, mundane existence until Satoru Gojo takes a special interest in her uncanny ability to bring people back to life (or so Itadori says) and offers her a job as his assistant at Jujutsu High. Tags: 18+, satoru gojo x female oc, boss x assistant, golden retriever x black cat, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, romance, one bed link to all chapters link to ao3

——————————————————————————————————

Chapter Nine

——————————————————————————————————

Reina tapped her pen on the table, glancing at the clock: 1708.

Gojo stood abruptly, hands pressed to the top of the wood as he leaned forward - shouting at the principal. 

“You can’t change the dress code! Iyashi belongs in skirts!” He pointed in Reina’s direction, she held her hands up innocently. 

“Sit down, Satoru.” Yaga replied with a long sigh. “I am not changing the dress code, some of the girls have asked for pants instead of skirts as an option.”

The meeting droned on, Reina sat next to Gojo carefully noting what commitments had been made on his behalf. She highlighted the calendar, penciling in the new additions. 

In her peripheral vision, Gojo stretched his legs forward with a wide stance - letting his head fall back over the edge of the chair.

Reina blushed, quickly averting her eyes as the stance brought the memory of the town car racing through her mind. The pencil slipped from her fingers, clattering to the ground.

Sliding the chair backwards, Reina leaned down to see where it rolled to.

“I hope I’m not distracting you with how funny and hot I am.” Gojo whispered, a smile fighting to appear on his lips. 

Her scathing look burned into him, he shrugged and turned his attention back to the principal. Reina scurried under the table to grab the pencil, sitting back onto her shins. She turned in an attempt to grab the seat of her chair to help her stand up.

Gojo was closer to her than she anticipated, her body conveniently occupying the space directly in between his legs.

He grinned down at her before murmuring, “This feels oddly familiar.” 

Reina’s brows furrowed before she smacked his knee, Gojo winced - a small yelp escaping his mouth.

“What’s going on down there, Iyashi?” Yaga asked, his face weary - the exhaustion of having to lead this obnoxious group evident. 

“Nothing, sir. I’m sorry to interrupt.” Reina quickly returned to her seat, keeping her head down for the remainder of the meeting.

Gojo had taken every opportunity to tease her about the post dinner incident since it occurred. She had woken up the next day in her own bed with a terrible headache - her memory intact. 

Regrettably. 

Reina blamed the cocktails and Gojo’s navy blue suit for her behavior. There was a section of her conscience that reminded her it had been two years since she had last been intimate - a better reason than most for her boldness. 

She decided that the next joke he made she would tell him so.

Well, not the last part. Nor the second part. Reina would tell him it was the five cocktails he bought her. So in reality it was Gojo’s fault.

She shook her head at the ridiculous reasoning. 

Reina never had the opportunity to address it, Gojo bounced from mission to meeting to mission over the next two weeks. She barely saw him long enough to hand the planner over or the letters, taking note that his normal sunny disposition was slowly dissolving. Only solidifying when his students were in the vicinity. 

Gojo sat at his desk, various questions regarding the curses they were assigned flying at him. Reina entered the classroom, stirring the contents of a mug before setting it down in front of him. 

Looking up at her, a faint smile appeared on his lips, “What’s this?”

“Herbal tea.” She responded, turning towards the students. 

Fushiguro sat at his desk, writing out his report. Kugisaki strained to look at what was on his sheet of paper. Itadori focused intently on the book in front of him, intermittently gasping.

“Are you worried about me, Iyashi?” He teased lightly, his eyes unreadable behind the blindfold. 

Reina avoided his gaze, “No, if you die then I’ll be unemployed again.”

Gojo was gone by the end of the day, she returned to his classroom to grab the mug. Fushiguro sat alone by the window, still writing.

He raised his chin, making eye contact with Reina as she stepped towards the door.

“He’s gone again, isn’t he?” He asked softly.

“Yes, Fushiguro, he’ll be back soon,” She answered, turning to face him.

“You’re worried about him, aren’t you?” Fushiguro replied, returning his attention to the notebook. 

Reina stared at the empty coffee mug before answering, “Yes.”

There was a long pause before he said, “Me too.”

——————————————————————————————————

A heavy cold seeps into Reina’s body as she steps forward, a low whimpering sliding underneath the door.

A vase knocks over on its side, sliding off of the nightstand to the ground with a rough clatter. 

“Hana?” she whispers into the dark.

A scream breaks through the silence as her hand wraps around the door handle - Reina shoves it forward.

Blood splatters across her vision.

Reina sprang forward with a gasp, a cold sweat dripping down her neck. Her eyes adjusted to the dark quickly, recognizing the familiar features of her bedroom. 

She sighed, looking at the clock: 0308. Pulling the covers from her body, she padded across the floor to the door. Opening it slowly, she made her way towards the kitchen.

The soft sounds of the television floated through the air as she entered the living area. 

Gojo sat on the couch, one arm resting on the back with a drink lazily hanging from his fingers. His chin tucked forward, blue eyes illuminated by the light of the screen. His lips were tight and his jaw clenched. 

“One hundred and three people were murdered outside of Osaka tonight. Suspect at large.” the newscaster droned in the background. Reina peeked over and saw images of the ambulance crews pushing gurneys covered with sheets.

She shivered as a gust of wind licked her legs, she looked at the patio door sitting ajar. 

“Are you crazy, Gojo? You’ll get sick.” She moved towards the door, closing it with a swift thud. 

His stare glued to the screen, she noted that he had yet to acknowledge her presence. The dark circles gathered on his face, the whites of his eyes tinged with red. 

Reina took a few tentative steps in his direction, she reached down and grabbed the remote. The television shut off with a loud click, she tossed it back onto the table before turning towards him. 

“They’re all dead,” Gojo broke the silence with the devastating line.

Reina’s eyes softened as she stood in front of him, his stare blank. 

“You did everything you could.” Reina knew that to be true without being present for the incident - he always did.

“I could have done more.” He replied, his tone deadpan.

“No, the great Satoru Gojo could not have done more.” She reached her hand towards him, resting it on his shoulder. “He did everything he could.”

 “You can’t save everyone,” she whispered with a comforting squeeze of her fingers. 

Gojo reached out and wrapped his arms around her torso, pulling her to stand in between his legs. He nuzzled his face into her bellybutton.

Reina stood frozen, unsure. Physical comfort or intimacy was not her strong suit - he tightened his grip in response.

Slowly resting her arms on his back, she instinctively rubbed her hand in circles. Stopping intermittently to caress the back of his neck with her fingers.

Surprisingly, Reina found that she did not hate the contact. 

Several minutes passed before Gojo released his hold and laid down on the couch, finally resting his eyes. Reina covered him with a blanket and removed his glasses, setting them on the table. She took a step towards the kitchen before springing back - Gojo’s fist tangled in her shirt. 

Reina slowly unfurled his hand and rested it back on the couch. She resigned herself to sit on the cushion next to him until he slipped into a deeper sleep. 

His hair brushed against her bare leg as she admired his face. The normally confident, well dressed, and laid back man appeared exhausted - the lines in his forehead prominent and his typically natural smile tipped downward at rest. 

This troubled Reina, how she didn’t notice sooner that he was running on empty. She could have intervened before he got to this breaking point. 

He stirred slightly in his sleep which prompted Reina to softly run her fingers through his hair, settling him. 

——————————————————————————————————

The birds chirped outside as the light streamed through the room, Reina opened one eye with a squint. She propped herself up on her elbow, surveying the space. 

The living area appeared to be in its normal state, Gojo’s glasses and drink rested on the table. 

A low rumble sounded from behind her, Reina quickly turned her head in its direction. Gojo lay parallel to her on the couch, his arm wrapped around her waist. 

Her cheeks flooded with heat, her eyes wide as she returned her gaze forward. 

He stretched before tightening his hold on her, pressing her back against him. 

“Iyashi, lay down.” He mumbled into her shirt.��

He lightly pressed her down, returning his arm to its original position - wrapped around her stomach. 

Gojo rested his chin on her shoulder before saying, “It’s too early, stop thinking about it,” his breath warm on her neck.

A chill spread down her spine as she threw the covers off - standing abruptly. 

He groaned, rubbing his eyes as he turned his gaze to her, “Please tell me.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Reina said with an incredulous look.

“You’re about to,” Gojo rolled to his back, placing his hands on his chest.

“What do you think you’re doing - working yourself to death?” She shouted, pointing an accusing finger at him.

He winced, “The volume, Iyashi. It’s so early.” 

“You can’t help anyone in this state!” Reina ignored his request, “Irresponsible! Reckless!” 

She began to pace as she listed a few more, Gojo lifted a hand into the air - counting the adjectives.

“Eight,” He said once she finished her rambling.

“What?” Reina asked, her tone filled with irritation.

“Go on.” He urged her with his hands to continue.

“How could you be so reckless?” She returned to her original volume.

“You said that one already. It was number two.” He held up his fingers to mimic where it was in the order.

Reina sighed, “Gojo, I’m serious.” she took a step towards the couch to look down at him. “You have to take better care of yourself.”

“I don’t know, if it means you’ll make me herbal tea more often then I might not,” He grinned up at her, one eye squinting in the light.

Though she was irritated, Reina found relief in his teasing words - he was at least acting himself. 

“If you don’t figure out how to balance work and your health then you’re going to have to start bringing someone with you on your trips.” She crossed her arms and gave him a stern look. 

“Okay, come with me then.” He replied, closing his eyes.

“What? Me?” Reina staggered momentarily, not expecting his response. 

“Why not? You’re a good fighter, a great cuddler, and only a pain in the ass sometimes.” He re-adjusted his head, his hair brushing against the couch. 

“Well, I meant another one of the jujutsu sorcerers,” she replied hastily.

“Yeah, I am asking another one of the jujutsu sorcerers.”

——————————————————————————————————

The train station marquis flashed “Sawara” as Reina climbed the steps to enter the compartment, Gojo followed behind holding onto their luggage. He placed it above their heads on the metal grates as Reina took the window seat. 

This was hardly what she had in mind when she told him he should bring someone along. She had hoped it would be Fushiguro, a way to put his worries at ease. 

Gojo collapsed into the seat next to her, “Geez, Iyashi, how much did you bring?”

“I thought you were the strongest in the world?” She quipped, admiring the scenery as the train began to move.

“If there’s a body in there you’re legally required to tell me as your boss.” He turned towards her, feigning a serious tone before whispering, “Is it Nobara? She can be real annoying sometimes. May she rest in peace.”

Reina fought a smile as she shook her head, pushing her elbow into his side playfully. 

Gojo chuckled and rested his hand on her knee - jostling it slightly, “I saw that smile, Iyashi.”

The three hour train ride passed without incident, Gojo sleeping intermittently and Reina listening to music as she stared out the window. 

As the vessel came to a stop, Gojo retrieved the luggage and headed for the door - Reina a few steps behind. The seaside town proved its beauty within minutes of their arrival - the sunset falling below the water line, splashing colors over the surface. 

Gojo led them into the inn, setting their luggage to the side. Reina surveyed the building, noting the older structure. The rural town lagged behind in infrastructure, making up for it in aesthetic. 

“We’re on the third floor, Iyashi.” Gojo called out, nodding his head towards the stairs. 

They ascended, turning down the corridor and following the signs until they reached 308. 

Gojo pushed the door open, holding it wide for Reina to enter.

“Is this my room or yours?” she asked as she looked around.

Shoving the luggage inside the door with a loud thwump, he replied “It’s our room.”

Reina plopped down on the bed, the words not registering as her hands ran along the soft comforter.

Her head whipped towards Gojo before she shouted, “Ours?”

He grinned, admiring Reina as she sat on the only bed in the room.

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chapter ten

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