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tima7fa · 8 months ago

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Eyes Are The Gates To The Soul

Tf!Sukuna Ryomen x Concubine!Reader

Contents:some heavy themes, sukuna being an asshole, not really romantic, blood kiss?, slightly suggestive, sukuna calls reader "sweet lotus" and "darling", reader has a scar across the face, slight showing of obsession (sukuna), no use of y/n, I don't like this, character study but I'm really bad at it, sukuna kinda doesn't act like sukuna so forgive me folks, sukuna ryomen is his own warning tbh

___________________________________________

Hideous

That's the term that always accompanied your presence, due to the disfiguring scar that marred your mouth and cheek. The individual in question, Ryomen Sukuna, was well acquainted with your plight. The villagers had offered you as a sacrificial lamb, nothing more than a disposable offering.

He had the option to decline.

Yet, he chose not to.

The reasons behind his decision remain uncertain to him. You appeared delicate, a fragile woman, dwarfed in comparison to his own formidable stature. He understood that even the slightest touch from him could shatter your fragile bones to pieces. The evidence of constant mistreatment was evident in the way your skin clung to your skeletal frame. The garment you wore could hardly be classified as a kimono; it was a mere tattered cloth. Additionally, half of your face was obscured by a lotus-embroidered fabric secured by an upper lace, fashioned into a dainty bow behind your head.

You were a far cry from conventionally attractive.

That was the consensus among the villagers. He had the option to refuse and exact revenge on them for daring to disrespect him through this hideous creature. Yet, he did not. He should have. Perhaps it was those eyes that captivated him. They were the sole aspect he could focus on when he gazed at you. Your eyes were the only discernible feature.

Designating you as his concubine seemed not suitable, and many would agree. How could such a lowly being attain the position of the king's concubine? It was an outright display of disrespect. After all, he was not just anyone; he was the king of curses, the all-powerful Ryomen Sukuna. In comparison, you were insignificant, an unsightly and hideous entity. Some might have overlooked your ascension to concubine if you were not such an eyesore.

You did not desire to be sacrificed to protect those wretched individuals, the ones who had mistreated you since birth. Vague memories of your mother being burned alive haunted you. The stench of charred flesh and witnessing your mother's agonized screams were unbearable. Yet, not a single person showed her an ounce of compassion. You despised them. The way they treated you as if you were a bastard child, a product of adultery. You vividly recalled the torment inflicted upon you by your father, who began to yearn for your mother again after being the cause of her demise.

As your body gradually matured, your father's gaze transformed into a repugnant predatory glare. The scar he inflicted upon your face mimicked the one your mother bore. Every time he laid his hands on you, you felt an overwhelming urge to puke. His comments about your resemblance to your mother made you contemplate self-annihilation. Each time you bathed, you vigorously scrubbed your skin until it turned a burning red, even drawing blood in some areas. The revulsion you felt toward your own body was indescribable. The day that man perished brought a sense of liberation, and beneath the cloth concealing half your face, a hidden smile emerged.

Now, your fervent hope is that this village, filled with detestable inhabitants, meets the same fiery fate as your mother. They do not deserve to live, nor do they deserve the privilege of breathing and leading peaceful lives, devoid of care in the world.

___________________________________________

"Make her more presentable."

With that command, you were abruptly handed over to the maids who bowed anxiously, displaying their respect for their king. Yet, he paid them no heed, his four eyes locked onto your gaze. Remarkably, you refused to avert your eyes. Normally, in the presence of this man, one's gaze should naturally shift downward. However, you held your ground, never once diverting your gaze.

He huffed dismissively before turning away and striding off. Your eyes followed him, fixated on his receding figure as he grew smaller and smaller. The maids beside you sighed audibly, relieved that they no longer had to prostrate themselves. Their expressions twisted with disdain as they regarded you, a sight they were accustomed to. "Let's start by bathing her." one of them suggested.

The bath itself could accommodate twenty people, a testament to the luxuries of the wealthy. As you undressed, you gingerly dipped your feet into the water, mentally preparing for the expected chill. To your surprise, the water was warm, enveloping you in comfort. It felt almost inviting, coaxing you to drift off to sleep. The maids recoiled in horror when you removed the cloth concealing your face, for it was a scar that not even makeup could conceal. Nevertheless, they attended to you diligently, beginning with your unusually long hair, a result of never having the means to afford a pair of scissors. They proceeded to scrub your body, a canvas adorned with blue and purple bruises. Strangely, it did not elicit pain. At least, that's what you convinced yourself.

After the bath, the scent of roses clung to your skin, an aromatic residue from the bathwater. They applied oils to your body and hair, meticulously attending to every detail. They trimmed your nails and tidied your hair, leaving it neatly styled. You pondered why they didn't cut it shorter, but you didn't bother questioning them. Subsequently, they dressed you in a kimono, meticulously fastening the obi and obijime. Truly, the affluent are coddled. They need not lift a finger, as everything is handed to them on a silver platter. Not that you were complaining; it was a novel experience to enjoy such privileges.

As the maids styled your hair, you hummed contentedly, fixating your gaze on a spot on the wall, conjuring faces in your imagination. Once they finished, they presented you with a feast, a veritable abundance of food. It could easily satiate thirty people. Did Sukuna intend to fatten you up to savor a more substantial meal? You wondered as you began to eat, only to have the maids promptly correct your eating mannerisms. How infuriating. Why should you learn the "proper" way to consume food? For heaven's sake, it's simply nourishment, and you certainly weren't dining like an animal. Although, in their eyes, you were likely no more than a beast. They even went so far as to correct your sitting posture, deeming it unladylike.

Tonight, you drifted off to sleep on a plush futon, relishing the comfort afforded by the opulent surroundings. You had glimpsed a taste of the opulence enjoyed by the rich, and you were content. The thought of tomorrow, whether you would become his next meal, briefly crossed your mind. However, you swiftly dismissed it. After all, your wrists remained slender; Sukuna likely preferred his victims with a bit more flesh, not mere bones.

___________________________________________

Months elapsed, and your health steadily improved, resulting in a much more favorable appearance. However, you had yet to catch a glimpse of the man responsible for your newfound opulent lifestyle.

Today, you made the decision to venture outside into the garden for the first time. Until now, you had remained sequestered within the confines of your chamber. After all, there was little incentive to venture out when the maids attended to your every need and little was demanded of you—simply staying silent and breathing was sufficient. Nevertheless, today you yearned for a breath of fresh air. Even you could grow weary of the sight of the same chamber, furniture, and faces adorning the walls and ceiling.

The garden was a sight to behold, meticulously maintained, as one would expect. You pondered whether Sukuna had an appreciation for the beauty of nature. However, you found it difficult to imagine such a scenario—a rather amusing thought, nonetheless.

"The mouse has finally emerged from her hole?"

A familiar voice sounded beside you. You glanced to your side to find him standing there, arms crossed over his chest, while the other pair dangled loosely at his sides. His approach had gone unnoticed, highlighting just how vulnerable you must appear in his eyes. He wasn't looking directly at you; instead, his gaze remained fixed straight ahead. His voice had been a rarity in recent months, but it possessed a distinctive quality that had been etched into your memory. Raising one hand, you pulled up the sleeves of your kimono and began kneading the flesh on your wrist. This action seemed to pique his interest, as his lower pair of eyes fixated on your movement. "What are you doing?" he inquired.

From the beginning, you should have realized that the maids were preparing you as the next course for the King of Curses. It became apparent once they applied a different oil to your skin. Did he prefer the taste of flesh seasoned with rose oil? You had discreetly sampled it when the maids weren't looking, and it tasted awful. The only redeeming qualities were its color and scent. "Do you enjoy consuming women who lack substantial flesh?" you replied, countering his question with one of your own. "What?" His face now turned towards you, all four eyes focusing intently. "I possess very little flesh, so I doubt you would derive pleasure from devouring me," you added with a sigh. Everyone has their preferences. Well, at least the lavish life had been enjoyable while it lasted.

"What kind of consumption are we discussing here?" he huffed, appearing somewhat amused. You noticed a slight curl at the corner of his mouth. Did he find this situation entertaining? "Are there different types?" you inquired, furrowing your brows. He seemed to tense as he averted his gaze, fixing his attention straight ahead once more. "Forget it." he dismissed. "I am not here to consume anyone. I was not even aware that you would step out of your chamber." He scoffed, yet he seemed to take notice when you took a step away from him. "I said I'm not here to consume anyone."

"I am simply being cautious. You might change your mind." you replied, tugging at your sleeve to occupy yourself. You heard him sigh, perhaps out of annoyance, who knows. "I did not bring you here to devour you."

"Nevertheless, you might still change your mind." you argued, unwilling to take any risks. "I believe I might change my mind if you continue to be this irritating." he declared, his grip on his biceps tightening. It was becoming apparent that provoking the King of Curses was not a wise course of action. "You've just proven my point..." you groaned softly, realizing the futility of continuing the conversation.

For a while, silence hung between the two of you, initially carrying a certain tension that gradually dissipated over time. "Why do you keep me around? I had assumed you would dispose of me once you had your fill." you broke the silence, but he offered no response. He himself lacked an answer to that question, a rather absurd realization. He simply walked away, leaving you to ponder the matter on your own. You decided it was time to return indoors; you had experienced your share of fresh air, and that was enough.

___________________________________________

You found yourself inexplicably seated on the ground, hands planted firmly to support your upper body. Tilting your head upward, you locked eyes with the figure before you—Sukuna. He cast a fleeting glance your way before resuming his heavy, enraged strides. A shiver coursed down your spine, regret flooding over you. You should have remained hidden away in your room.

Sukuna was no ordinary individual. Known for his merciless killings, he was not one to simply "forgive and forget." How could you forget such a fact just because you had a seemingly harmless conversation in the garden? This man had the power to slice you into countless pieces, showing no mercy to anyone. And you, in truth, held no special significance. Your right arm throbbed from the impact of the accidental collision with him. You couldn't help but wonder how it would have felt if it had been intentional, rather than a mere accident.

Dusting off your kimono, you rose from the ground. If you wished to avoid a premature demise, you knew you should confine yourself to your room, remaining silent and simply breathing. Otherwise, you would be cutting short your insignificant, pitiful existence. Returning to your chamber, you berated yourself for getting ahead of your station. You were nothing more than a nobody, and if Sukuna decided to end your life, you would perish. No one would come to your defense. In the past year, you hadn't even bothered to establish connections, not even with the maids. Perhaps you should have, as it might prove beneficial in the future.

You had recently begun forming connections with the staff, finally making an effort to remember their names. Previously, you had dismissed such endeavors as futile, convinced that death was inevitable. However, you had recently come to the realization that you didn't want to die. You weren't ready to surrender just yet. It might seem foolish, but you were only human after all. Humans clung to life until the bitter end. Staying alive had become your primary mission. Be compliant, follow the rules, behave like a lady, stay silent, and speak only when spoken to. One thing you had learned about this cruel world was that women were merely objects of pleasure and vessels for bearing children.

Therefore, you mustn't overstep your boundaries. Remain silent and endure whatever comes your way. Despite bearing the title of a concubine, you were still a nobody. A year had passed since your arrival, and Sukuna had not once visited your chamber. You were nothing more than a useless, pitiable excuse for a person. Not a single day went by without the memory of his enraged expression haunting your thoughts. You had been fortunate once, but becoming arrogant would surely seal your fate. The next encounter would likely be your last.

___________________________________________

You were overcome with a profound sense of dread upon receiving the summons. The shattered remnants of the delicate teacup, from which you had been sipping moments ago, now lay scattered at your feet like a shattered mirror of your own fractured composure. Why had the formidable Lord Sukuna requested your presence to dine with him? For this was no mere request - Sukuna's words carried the inescapable weight of absolute command, regardless of how they were phrased.

For the past two years, you had carefully cultivated a life of deliberate obscurity, purposefully making yourself scarce and unnoticeable to all, even earning the unenviable title of "the forgotten concubine." Sukuna's other consorts did not even view you as a challenge, granting you the blessing of fading entirely from his consciousness. And yet, here you were, called to his presence once more after such a prolonged absence.

The temptation to take your own life crossed your mind, but you swiftly dismissed such a cowardly act as unworthy. "I understand. I shall attend His Grace forthwith." you replied solemnly to the servant, who swiftly departed to relay the message.

'His Grace' - how the honorific now dripped with ironic bitterness. There was a time, you recalled, when you had addressed Sukuna with the casual familiarity of a friend, narrowly escaping punishment for your irreverence. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you smoothed the delicate fabric, adorned with the embroidered lotuses, tying its lace into a small bow that got covered with your hair and made your way to the grand dining hall.

Sukuna was already present, elbow propped upon the table, chin resting contemplatively in his palm, exuding an air of bored indifference. The sumptuous feast laid out before him remained largely untouched. You bowed low in deferential obeisance. "Greetings, Your Grace." A muted hum of acknowledgment was his only response, granting you tacit permission to take your seat at the opposite end of the grand table. Your gaze studiously avoided meeting his, focused instead on the ornate tableware arranged before you.

"Your Grace, huh?" he muttered, a note of curiosity laced through his words. "I don't recall you ever addressing me so formally before. What changed?" Indeed, a great many things had shifted within you. You steeled yourself, replying. "My apologies for my previous rudeness and lack of proper decorum."

I am now more acutely aware of my station and position within these hallowed halls.

Your response, however, did not seem to satisfy him, for he scoffed dismissively before turning his attention to the sumptuous feast laid out before him. You wondered what it was he truly sought to hear from you, for he appeared decidedly unsettled by your courteous words.

"Why aren't you eating?" he questioned, an edge of impatience coloring his tone.

"I did not wish to presume to partake without your express permission, Your Grace." you replied demurely.

In truth, the very prospect of consuming food in his imposing presence filled you with a sense of profound unease, as if your stomach might rebel at any moment. Yet, you dared not voice such trepidation aloud.

"Don't wait for my permission to eat," he grumbled, his irritation palpable. "Begin when I do."

"As you wish, Your Grace." You grasped your chopsticks, your eyes falling upon the delicate rolls of futomaki. Raising the morsel to your lips, you hesitated, your ever-present veil of concealment still in place.

"The hell are you doing?" he growled, his brow furrowed in annoyance. "Just take that damn cloth off and eat like a normal person."

You swallowed thickly, your gaze averted. "The scar upon my face is rather unsightly, and I did not wish to disturb your meal with its unsightly presence."

His response caught you off guard, for he scoffed dismissively. "I've consumed human flesh thousands of times. A little scar is nothing I haven't seen before."

Was that his attempt at providing some semblance of comfort? If so, it had been a rather shitty effort. Yet, you dared not voice such an assessment, for you knew all too well the perilous consequences that could arise from such irreverence. Slowly, you removed the delicate cloth, placing it within easy reach upon the table, and resumed your meal, acutely aware of his unrelenting gaze upon you.

The sudden summons had taken you by surprise, leaving you to wonder at his motives. Had your chance encounter in the past provoked this unexpected audience? Yet, the passage of time since that incident made such a reaction seem oddly delayed. A myriad of questions threatened to spill forth, but you dared not give voice to them, fearful of overstepping the bounds of propriety.

Remaining silent and obedient, you knew, could risk boring the capricious Ryomen Sukuna, for he demanded constant entertainment. However, you were uncertain whether drawing his interest would be a prudent course of action. A life of peaceful obscurity was your fervent wish, though you harbored doubts as to whether such a fate was truly attainable.

To your astonishment, Sukuna seemed unbothered by the scar that marred your countenance. In truth, for a man, such a blemish was often viewed as a mark of honor and bravery – a notion that, in your current circumstance, seemed utterly incongruous. Yet, you dare not dwell upon such fanciful musings, for his very presence filled you with a profound sense of unease.

You continued your meal in silence, offering only the briefest of responses when he posed questions, effectively stifling any attempt at meaningful discourse. Sukuna, you sensed, grew increasingly vexed by your reserved demeanor, a stark contrast to the spirited disposition he had once witnessed.

Your repeated apologies, too, seemed to grate upon his nerves, and you had somehow managed to strike the delicate balance between captivating his interest and avoiding his wrath.

___________________________________________

You had inadvertently piqued the interest of Ryomen Sukuna himself.

You were not the only one to have discerned this fact, as his other concubines had also become acutely aware of the shift in his attention. At first, your increased frequency of shared meals with him had not seemed to elicit any particular reaction from the others. However, when Sukuna began to visit your personal quarters more often than before, the jealousy and resentment of his other companions began to simmer.

Soon, the insults and petty acts of harassment commenced, as the other concubines sought to undermine and humiliate you. Yet, you remained steadfast in your composure, recognizing that their outbursts were rooted in the delusion of a genuine, romantic connection with the capricious daimyo. In truth, you all were trapped in this gilded cage, bereft of familial or social ties that might offer the prospect of escape.

The lack of reaction from you seemed to gradually extinguish the interest of your tormentors, and you were able to return to the semblance of a peaceful existence, though the frequent visits from Sukuna himself continued to weigh heavily upon your mind.

Seeking refuge, you resorted to the ruse of claiming illness, sequestering yourself within the confines of your quarters. As you sat upon the zabuton, contemplating the best means of avoiding his unwanted attention, you carefully dried your damp hair, your thoughts consumed by the need to devise a plausible excuse to keep Sukuna at bay.

At that moment, the door suddenly slid open, and Sukuna himself stepped through the threshold. In the wake of his imposing presence, his attendants carried boxes tightly wrapped in intricate Furoshiki cloth.

"Ah, my sweet lotus has finally awoken. I was beginning to worry I might have to summon the imperial physician once more." he remarked, his voice laced with a palpable undercurrent of sarcasm. Advancing closer, his massive form cast a looming shadow over you, a vivid reminder of your chance encounter in the hallway.

"Your grace, you're here.." you murmured, your tone flat and devoid of any discernible emotion. A cursory glance at the boxes carried by the servants quickly dissipated your interest, as your eyes returned to meet his penetrating gaze.

"What? Not happy to see me, my sweet lotus?" Sukuna said, his voice tinged with amusement. He observed you in silence, his eyes intently fixed upon your every movement. "Perhaps you'd like to be carried back to bed?" He chuckled softly, his hand reaching up to gently brush a stray, damp lock of hair from your face. "I would hate for you to overexert yourself."

"I'm fine, thank you for your concern, my lord." you swiftly dismissed the suggestion, your hands continuing their work as you dried your hair. "I'm grateful for your visit."

Sukuna raised a single, skeptical eyebrow, his mouth curling into a sardonic smirk. "Are you? It seems to me that you have been actively avoiding my presence of late." His tone had grown low and serious, his eyes scanning your countenance with an intensity that belied his true intentions.

"Is there something amiss? Perhaps if you were to obtain a bit more rest, you would find yourself in a more amiable mood to converse." he mused, his voice tinged with a hint of feigned concern.

"I assure you, I am not avoiding you, my lord. I would never dream of such an act." you responded, your tone resolute.

"You're not?" Sukuna remarked, a subtle note of disbelief coloring his words. "Then why is it that you so often shrink away from my presence? I cannot help but suspect that this supposed illness of yours is nothing more than a convenient excuse to elude me." He took a measured step closer, his towering figure casting a looming shadow over your seated form.

"You would do well to be more forthright and transparent with me, my lotus," he said, his eyes filled with a palpable disdain. "I have little tolerance for liars, especially those who lack the decency to even fabricate their falsehoods to my face."

You knew he had seen through your deception. Lying to Sukuna was a perilous endeavor, yet you steeled your resolve. "I assure you, my lord, I am not being untruthful."

"Oh? So you're telling me that you are not, in fact, avoiding me, yet your actions suggest my very presence is unwelcome," he said, his gaze darkening as he reached out to cup your cheek, running a calloused thumb along the contours of your lips.

"You may well be able to deceive others with your falsehoods," he whispered, his voice laced with a palpable undercurrent of danger. "But when it comes to me, I see through your every attempt at obfuscation. I know when you are hiding something from me, my lotus."

"I merely required a respite," you sighed, resigning yourself to a degree of honesty. "Spending time in your company has incited jealousy among your other concubines, and they have taken to tormenting me. I sought refuge in my chambers to avoid such unpleasantness." It was not a complete lie, but rather a carefully constructed excuse that sounded plausible.

Sukuna's eyes narrowed perceptibly at the mention of the other concubines' actions. He fell silent for a moment, his gaze intently fixed upon you.

"Those concubines should know better than to provoke you," he said, his voice cold and unyielding. "And you, my lotus," he added with a scoff, "you should have come to me directly. Hiding away in your chambers is not the solution." Reaching out, he gently took hold of your chin, compelling you to meet his unwavering gaze. "This matter could have been resolved swiftly had you confided in me, instead of resorting to avoidance."

"Please, do not kill them," you requested, "but rather punish them accordingly." You did not wish for their lives to be forfeit, only for them to face appropriate consequences for their actions.

Sukuna's lips curled into a sardonic smirk, a gleam of dark amusement sparking in his eyes. "Oh? Are they truly worth the exertion of my time and energy to be punished?" he mused, his tone tinged with a hint of derision.

"Very well," he conceded, the corner of his mouth twisting into a cold, cruel smile. "Consider it done. I shall personally see to it that they are dealt with in a manner befitting their transgressions." Turning his gaze back to you, he added, "And as for you, you will accompany me for the remainder of the day."

___________________________________________

You found yourself the recipient of an increasing number of gifts, though you were unsure how to truly feel about this development. Silently, you accepted these offerings, allowing them to accumulate untouched within your chambers, left to rot without ever being utilized.

This apparent disregard for his generosity seemed to have caught Sukuna's attention. How dare you not make use of the gifts he had bestowed upon you? Your seeming ingratitude clearly annoyed him, stirring a rage within that threatened to consume his composure.

"My sweet lotus," he began, his words seemingly benign, yet his tone spoke of a simmering fury lurking beneath the surface. That familiar endearment, so often used to address you, now carried a palpable undercurrent of menace. "Are the gifts not to your liking?" he asked, stepping closer until his looming figure cast a shadow over your seated form.

You sat upon a zabuton, positioned atop the tatami floor, your hand pausing in the act of combing your hair as you caught his reflection in the mirror before you. "My lord, I assure you, I appreciate all that you have gifted me. They are truly lovely." you responded, your words ringing hollow even to your own ears. No matter the quality of the offerings, you could not bring yourself to feel genuine gratitude for them.

"Do you now?" he scoffed mockingly, leaning down until his breath caressed the shell of your ear, his eyes meeting yours through the mirror's surface. "Or are you merely saying what you believe I wish to hear?" A shiver ran down your spine at his words.

"My lord—" you began, only for him to cut you off. "Enough with the obedient act, my sweet lotus."

"I despise the vile creatures called humans," he trailed off, one of his hands reaching out to pluck the comb from your grasp, "but I loathe liars even more than I hate mankind, and i have a already made it clear before." The comb glided smoothly through your hair as you maintained unwavering eye contact with him through the mirror, your silence becoming a tacit acknowledgment of his accusation.

"If you value your life, I would advise you to speak the truth." Sukuna warned, his grip on your chin tightening, causing you to wince. Your gaze lowered reflexively, but he quickly rectified that, roughly guiding your eyes back to meet his through the mirror.

"Keep those pretty eyes focused on me, darling." he commanded, a grin replacing the frown that had previously marred his features.

Your hand reached up to grasp his wrist, your nails digging into his flesh as you felt the tightening of his fingers on your chin. His gaze fell to where your nails pierced his skin, and his grin widened with amusement. "Make me bleed. Go on." he chuckled, and you complied, watching as his blood tainted your nails and dripped down to stain your kimono. The metallic scent of the blood hit your nostrils.

"You've made a mess. Why don't you clean it up, darling?" he mused, releasing your chin and raising his arm slightly, positioning the bleeding wound before your mouth. You moved your head back, causing it to press against his chest. "Why are you so afraid? I can assure you, my blood tastes amazing." he said, pushing your head forward until your lips connected with his wrist, the crimson liquid staining them.

You kept your lips tightly sealed, and he withdrew his wrist, studying your face. "Red suits you, my sweet lotus." he murmured, his gaze focused on your lips, his thumb gliding across the plump of your lips smearing is blood, before he captured them in a rough, demanding kiss. You tried to pull away, but his hand held the back of your head in place, and his lower pair of hands snaked around your waist, anchoring you to him. His free hand caressed your cheek, a stark contrast to his forceful actions.

His tongue easily slipped past your lips as you opened them in a failed attempt to speak, and his eyes remained locked on yours, which you struggled to keep open amidst the overwhelming situation. Your hands gripped the fabric covering his chest tightly, and you felt tears forming in your eyes as you fought to draw breath.

Finally, he pulled away, but remained close, his breath caressing your skin. A thin strand of saliva connected your lips before it snapped, and you were left breathing heavily, striving to regain your composure. His laughter echoed in the room.

"What? Can't handle a simple kiss?" he taunted, his voice laced with amusement.

"There's a long way to go, darling."

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ky-landfill · 2 years ago

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#fic rec #to the red planet Mars #by r_astra #heavy themes #bruce and jason are telepathically linked #so bruce feels a portion of the pit rage #jason todd #bruce wayne #lazarus #this fic is incredible #a bit dark though be warned #vidicated jason #pit rage

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aventurineswife · 2 months ago

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[Inspired by]

The weight of the gift box lingered in your hands—heavier than it looked, heavier than it had any right to be. The velvet beneath your fingertips, soft and inviting, seemed almost mocking. Aventurine's flair for dramatics clung to every detail, but the somber stillness of the moment stripped away his usual charm.

You opened the lid with trembling fingers, revealing a set of poker coins gleaming in the dim light. Each coin shone brilliantly, polished to perfection, yet cold to the touch. Your reflection warped across their surfaces—fractured, distorted.

Beneath the coins lay the letter, its folds crisp, the ink bold yet eerily delicate. You recognized his handwriting immediately. The flourish of each letter mirrored his showmanship, but the words carried the weight of a man stripped bare of illusion.

When all the things worth cherishing in life are traded for chips that flutter between your fingers, losing them becomes all too easy.

“What a gambler gains in the end is also what they lose in the end.”

Your breath hitched.

The room felt smaller, the walls closing in as the silence thickened. Each word burrowed deeper into your chest, cold and cutting, like the edges of the coins now clutched in your hands. You tried to imagine his voice as you read the words again, but all you could summon was the emptiness between his practiced smiles and hollow laughter.

Was this his way of saying goodbye?

Anger bloomed hot and fierce in your chest, but it wilted almost as quickly, leaving only a raw ache. The coins clinked softly as your grip faltered, each sound a reminder of how easily they slipped through your fingers—just like him.

He had always warned you, hadn’t he? Always made you understand, in his roundabout way, that he was a man destined to play and lose. But you had stayed, believing you could be the exception to his game, the one hand he would never fold.

The coins lay scattered across the table now, their perfect symmetry disrupted by trembling hands. The letter remained open, its words blurred as tears welled and spilled, each drop darkening the paper like the weight of the truths he’d left unsaid.

You wanted to scream, to call him a coward for running, for turning your connection into another gamble he couldn’t afford to keep. But beneath the hurt, you understood. You always had.

He had never feared losing the game. He had feared losing you. And, in the end, his way of keeping you safe was to let you go.

A single coin rolled off the edge of the table, hitting the floor with a hollow ring. You didn’t pick it up. You couldn’t. Instead, you sat in the quiet, clutching the letter to your chest, feeling the weight of his absence press against your heart.

And though you didn’t want to admit it, you finally understood: Aventurine had gambled, and this time, he had lost everything.

If anyone would like to write a continuation of this, be my guest! 🥰🤗

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madsmadart · 9 months ago

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HEAVY THEMES WARNING!!

(Repost from 2022) A bit of a dive into Meta Knights inner turmoils. This one is probably the most intense comics I've made so far. I hope I didn't make everyone too OOC for this, if so then I apologize.

I tried picturing what someone's overwhelming intrusive thoughts would visually look like. I didn't plan to add shading but it added emphasis to the mood. I figured putting a word I REALLY don't like would hit home more in the last panel to add emphasis. It also took some time to come up with some encouraging words, lol.

#angst #madsmadart #madsmadfanart #kirby #kirby fanart #kirby art #meta knight #kirby meta knight #dedede #king dedede #the kirby krew #kirby king dedede #kirby dedede #kirby bandana dee #bandana waddle dee #bandana dee #heavy themes

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skimmingmilk · 27 days ago

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For all of winter break, Amy would watch as her parents walked out the door every morning, trapped in an endless daily grind of productivity and employee satisfaction, and leave her behind. But unlike how Birdie had stepped up for his family, Amy couldn't save them from this. — In the aftermath of the battle against Perfect Chaos, Station Square is forever changed. Everything Amy Rose had known and held dear had sunk far below the surface of the water that claimed the lives of thousands. Nothing will ever be the same.

Chapter 3

The call didn't come for another week.

But Amy couldn't sit around for an entire week. None of them could.

School had been canceled for the foreseeable future. Between the damages and the displaced families, it would be a while before classes could resume. Businesses went dark. Storefronts remained shuttered, people relying on emergency supplies being sent to them by way of G.U.N. and various charity organizations. Some grocery stores and restaurants in the suburbs were still open, donating what they could to emergency workers and people in need. The hotels in the area that could still function were operating as shelters for people who'd lost their homes, government officials working around the clock to get people to safety by whatever means possible.

Hospitals were full—people were being transported to neighboring cities as far north as Westopolis when supplies had run low and healthcare workers couldn't keep up with the demand. Loved ones were separated, entirely by accident, in the cases where individuals couldn't be identified. Phones were ringing off the hook as people tried to find news of friends and families' whereabouts, many of them merely waiting for the same confirmation Amy was.

So it was the perfect time to put her plan into motion.

Because if Amy Rose had time to worry, then she also had time to do what she did best. Help people.

[Continue at AO3]

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pandemoniumwritingsstuff · 11 months ago

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You are not defined by your past

Evan Buckley X reader X Eddie Diaz

*Gifs are not mine*

Pairing: Evan Buckley X reader(She/Her) X Eddie Diaz

Summary: When your past comes back in the middle of the night, your boyfriends are here to help you through this moment

Trigger warnings: Polyrelationship/ Past rape, sexual assault/ Ptsd/ Trauma/ Nightmare/ Self harm(sort of)/ Loads of crying/ Panic attacks/ Anxiety

A/N Like I say everytime, English is not my first language, so if there is any mistake, feel free to tell me. Be really cautious reading this story, there are heavy topics talked about in this story, it's just me trying to cope with my feelings with writing

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You woke up in a pool of sweat and sandwiched between Eddie and Buck after yet another nightmare. It was the third one this week. You got out of bed, making sure you didn't wake up any of your boyfriends. After you went downstairs, you slipped yourself into the bathroom. You started the shower and went in. You scratched your skin until it was red and raw; you had to get off the feeling of his hands on your body. Some of the scratches even started to bleed after a while. You didn't know a long you had been in the shower until you heard the door opening and the voice of Eddie, calling you."Baby, are you okay in there? You've been in there for quite a while. " If it wasn't for the shower curtain protecting you, he would have seen you and your body full of wounds. You tried to answer with a steady voice but failed miserably."I'm fi-fine, I'll be out in a mi-minute." You couldn't make out what Eddie whispered to Buck, but a second later, the curtain was being opened. Buck and Eddie gasped when they saw the state of your body; covered in wounds and bleeding. They immediately went to hug you but stopped when you flinched violently. Buck tried to reassure you."Honey, we aren't gonna hurt you. What's going on? Talk to us, please. " You stood there frozen, tears filling your eyes while you felt like you couldn't breathe anymore. When you started clawing at the skin of arm, Eddie stepped in and held you so you couldn't hurt yourself any further. You thrashed and tried to free yourself from him, but there was no use he won't let you go. "That's it, honey, breathe. Can you take a deep breath for us?" It was like you couldn't hear him because you kept trying to push him away."Let me go, please. Please, don't hurt me, don't don't hurt me. " " Sweetheart, look, it's me, Eddie, and here is Buck, look" He said while pointing Buck standing in the middle of the bathroom. He was looking at you worriedly with tears in his eyes, like he knew what was going on. After fighting to free yourself from Eddie for a long time, you ended up tiring yourself out and fell on the shower floor. Eddie and Buck were at your side in a moment and were careful to ask "can we touch you honey?". And when you gave a tiny nod, they gathered you in their arms. Holding you so hard like you were going to disappear at any moment. You didn't how long you sat there, on the shower floor until you felt Buck picking you up and carrying you and bringing you to your shared bed. Once the three of you were settled, they landed a kiss on your cheeks and Eddie said "We'll talk tomorrow, sleep well our darling girl."

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While you were sleeping

Once you were asleep, Buck asked Eddie, "Do you know what caused that?" "No. Do you think it has to do with what happened on call today?" "No it seems to be much more than that. What happened today was scary, but it can't be the cause for tonight breakdown." "We'll talk to her in the morning. Maybe she'll open up" And with that, Eddie and Buck placed themselves on each side of you: Buck on your right and Eddie on your left.

——————

In the morning

You woke up once again sandwiched between Eddie and Buck, but this time you weren't scared out of your mind, feeling his hands everywhere. You tried to get out of the bed without waking up your boyfriends, but as you were sitting up, Buck's eyes started to open. "Good morning honey, how are you feeling? Better than last night?" "Better, but I'm pretty sure you are wondering what happened last night. Why I was acting so scared and panicked" "Eddie and I are worried about you, but we won't force you to tell us something you don't want. You tell us what you feel comfortable telling us" "I want to tell you what happened to me, but I'm scared of how you will react" "Angel, whatever happened to you in the past won't make us leave and we won't ever judge you for it" Tears brimmed your eyes, and you started shaking. Buck brought you close to him, you buried your face in his chest. Eddie woke up hearing your cries and looked at Buck worriedly. He touched your back in order to bring comfort, but you flinched violently. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to, I'm sorry" "It's okay, it's alright honey" Eddie reassured you. "But it's not, I'm not okay, I'm scared that he will come back and do it again" "Who's he baby?" "The man who-the man who-who" " The man who what honey? It's alright, we won't judge" "The man who ra-raped me when I was younger" You sobbed. They both asked simultaneously "Can we hold you honey?" "But I'm dirty, filthy, impure" "That doesn't matter to us. What happened to you in the past does not define you, you are not defined by your past" "In our eyes, you are still the girl we fell in love with, regardless us knowing about your past or not. We won't ever leave for something that you didn't choose to happen. Something that was brought upon you, against your will" "For now, all we want is to help cope with your past. Help you through the difficult times and love unconditionally" "We will love you forever"

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Thanks for reading. Again I apologise for any grammatical mistake in this story

Pandemonium

#9 1 1 fox #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #Evan Buckley x reader x eddie diaz #trauma #imagine #Heavy themes

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geegers22 · 6 months ago

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I watched Heavenly Delusion yesterday and…

Holy shit I need a mental health day just to unpack that. I’m at work right now absolutely failing to pay attention because this story is all I can think about.

I think I really must love fucked up media because this show grabbed me by the throat and did not let me go, and I loved every second of suffering. Same way AOT and CSM did.

Oh wow that was an experience and a half. I have a new favorite series and I’m going to read the manga next. I can not stress how good this show is but I can not in good conscience recommend it to anyone without a strong content warning.

If you can take it, please watch this underrated gem.

#don’t watch this show #this is your final warning #it’s for your own good #unless you’re like me and you’re into fucked up shit #then run DONT WALK to experience this #ahhhhhhhh #heavenly delusion #tengoku daimakyou #heavy themes #seinen anime

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iamgodsoopsie · 1 year ago

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Astarion Headcanons (that you probably won't like) Pt. 1:

Part 2 link

BG3 does an excellent job at depicting SA trauma and the beginning of the healing process/journey. Many of the headcanons I've seen floating around (intentionally or unintentionally) gloss over the uglier side of healing from (prolonged) trauma. I'm not judging anyone for magically healing him, he's fictional after all, but I'd like to make some more ...realistic... headcanons.

Disclaimer: Everyone's healing process looks different, but they tend share commonalities. These headcanons are based on my own experiences. Not everyone who is healing from their trauma will experience what I have or have experienced it like I have.

[Please don't message me with explicit details about your trauma. I am at the point in my healing journey where I can share my experiences, and commiserate with other's similar experiences, but I am unable to support others in a more personal manner at this time. I wish you the best of luck in your healing process/ journey.]

Spoiler warning

Mental illness, SA, & DV Trigger Warnings

These headcanons are based on an Astarion who is still a spawn and romantically involved with a Tav who honestly loves him and isn't abusive or manipulative. Also Cazador is dead and Astarion got to stab him. They also assume that he himself does not turn into Cazador 2.0 or Wish.com Cazador.

He needs a LOT of love and patience. Which, frankly, many people don't have.

He's messy af. If "Damn bitch, you live like this?" was a person it'd be him. C-PTSD is a hell of a drug. I think he wants to be more organized and clean than he is, it's just going to be a looong process for his inside appearance to match his outside appearance. (His appearance may stay mostly the same or drastically change).

---Don't believe me? Just look at the outside of his tent: it's mostly organized and sophisticated, but the inside is messy and he sleeps on a plank of wood with a threadbare stained blanket.

He'll struggle with control issues rooted in his anxiety until he finds a way to channel that energy in to something productive and/or healthy.

---He'll veer between controlling micromanager (aggressive) and door mat (people pleasing/ passive) until he finds his (assertive) middle ground.

Anger issues ahoy! He went through "200 years of shit. PURE SHIT!" and had to dissociate/repress his feelings to 'survive'.

---Stabbing Cazador was cathartic, but it only released the surface level of his repressed rage.

-----An interesting line from the game that I haven't seen enough people talk about: When you tell Astarion to keep his cool when Cazador is goading him, Cazador scoffs and sarcastically asks Tav if they've witnessed his "fits of rage". (Of course a "fit of rage" to Cazador is probably Astaion having a slight frown when Cazador wants him to smile and be a pretty toy to show off.)

He will try to push you away and 'test' you to see if you stay consistent in respecting him and his boundaries. He needs to make sure you don't turn into a Cazador when you two are in an argument. He needs to be sure that his "No" is respected when in a steamy moment after a dry spell.

---This probably won't be as intense as it otherwise would've been because of what you two went through together, but he'll still do it.

-----He probably doesn't realize what he's doing, and when he does he'll shame spiral.

I hope you are prepared to patiently give lots of reassurance and affirmation about the same things over and over again.

---It'll sometimes seem as though he is seeking permission, but if you ever act as though you are giving him permission instead of affirmation/ reassurance he will become very defensive.

He's indecisive but unwilling to listen to your input.

---He went from 200 years of having no control or ability to make his own decisions to suddenly being free, he's going to feel overwhelmed.

-----He'll eventually realize that you have his best interest at heart and that you are not telling him what to do, you're offering suggestions to help him make an informed decision.

There's so much more but I'm tired. He'll eventually heal and live a happy and healthy life, but it'll be a bumpy road to get there.

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cinnasweetss · 1 year ago

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Out Of Bounds (M) - sim jaeyun

PAIRINGS: jake x female reader, afab reader

SYNOPSIS: in which jake is your little brothers best friend that knows absolutely no boundaries when it comes to you.

GENRE: smut, pwp.

CONTENT: jake is super whiny, one-sided pining, reader is slightly older, overuse of the word ‘noona’, jake def has a thing for older women, mentions of drinking, masturbation (m), mentions non consensual groping, mentions of verbal threats.

jake is everything but a pleasure to be around. endless flirting, groping, threats aimed at your boyfriend, and other unspeakable things. all done where no one can hear you beg him to just leave you alone, just this once. or hear him grumble about how much he likes you, and won’t stop.

jake is like your brother too, just a little bit more annoying. although his actions can be a bit much, you know he’s a kind hearted boy deep down with pure intentions. even if his actions can be a bit much. it’s nothing you can’t handle.

your never bring this up to your brother either. never would you deny him of a friend just because he has a very insatiable desire for you. boys will be boys! your friends say their siblings friends develop little crushes on them too. but jake’s feelings and wants for you are not little.

so, it’s no surprise that he calls you late at night after a night of drinking with your younger brother. overcome by the feeling of needing to hear his best friends older sister. just to settle him. that’s it.

your phone rings next to your pillow, pulling you from your slumber. it takes a minute for you to roll over, sighing when you pick up your phone and see ‘sim jake’ written across the screen.

“hmm? what is it?”

you know he’s been drinking. that’s why you don’t hesitate to answer. “Just…thinking about my noona.” his noona. you’re always referred to that way. his voice is slow and slurred, hinting at just how much he’s drank by now. “are you drunk?”

you have to say you're flattered. extremely. to be on his mind even when he’s drunk and has likely been around plenty of drunk women says a lot. “a lil- little bit..." you hear an exhale come through the speaker, and another noise follow. "jake, how much did you drink? do you need me to come get you?" you’re sitting up out of your bed, ready to throw on clothes and leave just incase he does need you. there’s a short pause before you hear his voice again.

“Can you- fuck... can you say my name again?" he sounds out of breath, and you can faintly hear some very suspicious sounds coming from the other end. those words mark a new boundary that’s been broken. adding to the multitude of broken boundaries. "what are you doing?" his tone sounded very suggestive, and it makes you stop, pressing your phone closer to your ear. "Thinkin' about you, noona..." he responds, and this time, he moans. "Jake..." you don’t mean to feed into him. not all all. you're just utterly shocked and at a loss for words. but most of all, worried about this would affect your relationship with him. "oh, fuck.” he's shameless in the way he moans, loud and whiny, begging you to say more. "tell me, noona..." he starts, moaning directly into your ear... "y-your panties...what color are they?"

“they’re…red..”

"ahhh, shit." you can hear him struggle with himself like he's imagining you in red panties , likely doing something lewd. "today...in the kitchen. did you like it? when I touched you?" ‘touched’ is too sweet of a word to describe what he did to you. groped, manhandled, fondled, is better. overpowering you when you tried to push his hands away from your chest, beg him to stop before your brother sees. tell him he must learn how to control himself.

“you cant...touch me like that...it isn’t right.” those are words you’ve said to him a million times before. words that go through one ear and out the other without a second thought. "cant help it. fuck, fuck, i'm so close! keep talking, please noona!" you can hear him increase speed in whatever he's doing, which, sounds exactly like he's jerking off.

"you're so pretty, too pretty, noona..." he rambles on in his fit of pleasure. telling you how much he wants to kiss you, and fuck you between very loud moans. "wish I could cum in you instead...agh! I gotta have you...gotta make you mine." his words bring heat to your cheeks despite the vulgarity of it all. "Jake..." you start, the other seemingly seconds apart from coming undone. "yes? yes, yes, noona!" he pants over the phone, whining and struggling to hold himself back from cumming before you get to respond. "maybe one day." those words from you are all it takes, a "fuck i'm gonna cum! i'm cumming! fuck!" being yelled into the speaker as he releases every pent up emotion he has for you in the form of one intense orgasm.

sim jaeyun, is way Out Of Bounds.

#enhypen smut #enhypen #jake sim #jake smut #cinnasweetss #sim jaeyun #smut #heavy themes #enhypen imagines #kpop bg #enha x reader #enha smut #enhypen jake #enhypen jaeyun #enhypen x reader #jake x reader #cinnasweetss: out of bounds

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olsenmyolsen · 1 year ago

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A Night In The City

master list

dark master list

No Powers AU (Female Reader X Yelena Belova)

Summary: When a blonde excited to explore New York comes into your place of work, you end up spending a night you'll never forget.

Word Count: 5.4K

Content: Sadness, Mentions of Suicide, Sucidial Actions, Angst, Happy Ending, Kissing ;)

You were tired.

Tired of your job.

Tired of the big city.

Tired of not being enough.

Tired of liv-... well, everything.

You missed when you didn't feel this way, but times change. You guessed you missed the time to change, too.

So, as you logged another book into the computer for your boss Agatha, you briefly wondered what to have for dinner.

If you even felt like eating by the time you got home...

The bell ringing above the door broke you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see blonde braids surf past a bookshelf and to you.

That's when you saw her face.

Bright green eyes, small pink lips, and bushy eyebrows. Slightly chubby cheeks were a bonus to see. "Hello!" She said in a heavy accented voice as her body hit the counter. "I'm looking for a book about New York City!"

You looked at her like she was joking, but after a moment of her just staring at you, you realized she was not. "Oh." You said. "Umm, you're in the city now... but what kind of book are you looking for?" You asked.

The woman thought before it looked like she got an idea. "Any books on restaurants or parks!?" You nodded and started typing into your computer. "Let me just make sure we have any."

You knew you did.

"Okay." She said as she craned her neck to see what you were doing. "That's a lot of books." She commented when you clicked the page. You looked at her. "Yeah... you're looking for a book about the millions of restaurants in this city."

You didn't mean to sound rude, but as the words left your mouth, you knew exactly how you sounded.

The blonde took a step back with her mouth dropped. "Jeez, I hope everyone isn't as rude as you!" Her voice sounded like you actually hurt her feelings. "I'm sorry!" You started apologizing as the blonde frowned. "I didn't mean it that way!" You went to talk more, but you were cut off.

"What way did you mean it then!" She looked pitiful. You sighed and collected your thoughts. "I mean... New Yorks a big place..." She nodded. "I know that." She said. "And as opposed to looking at hundreds of books about the restaurants and parks that'll be way too crowded or too expensive, the best way to experience it all is by just going out, walking in the city. Taking the subway to the Upper West Side or even Brooklyn. That's a way to get the best kind of food."

The blonde was hanging on your every word as you spoke about the city you used to find passion in.

"Plus, I'm sure you'll have a great time." You added before your smile faded. But the blonde saw it. She took a closer step to the counter. "Okay." She said.

"Okay?" You asked.

"Show me." The blonde smiled and rested her arms on the counter before you. "Take me around the city."

"Uhh, I- what?" Did she say what you thought she said?

"I want you to take me around the city." She said without an ounce of a joke hidden in her words. Leaving you lost to find any. "I-I can't do that.." You said, causing the woman across from you to tilt her head. "I'm working, and I- I don't even know you."

The blonde made a flat smile with her lips before extending her hand. "Well, hi, I'm Yelena. Yelena Belova." She waited for you to take it until you did. Cautiously. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N." You shook her hand and took note of the black fingernail polish she was wearing.

"There, now we know each other. How much longer do you have to work?" Yelena whined as her hands dropped back onto the counter.

You peered over to the computer and looked at the upper right corner of the screen. "It still have over an hour, but-" Yelena groaned. "Fine. Give me a book, and I'll wait."

As Yelena looked at you with her pretty green eyes, you couldn't find the words to say that you couldn't do it.

Your mind was blank.

"You're really serious, huh?" You asked, making Yelena scoff. "Of course."

Another second passed between the two of you before you nodded and pointed Yelena in the direction of some sapphic novels you loved to kill her time.

As you watched her walk away, you found yourself looking down her backside to her ripped jeans and black boots.

Once she disappeared down an aisle, you were alone again with your thoughts. But this time, all you could think was, "What did I just agree to?"

Once Yelena sat down in a chair made for little kids, she began reading a book from the selection you pointed to earlier.

Yelena quickly found herself swept up in the details of a woman returning to her hometown for a job only to discover that her former rival was now her new boss.

It was cheesy and short, but Yelena couldn't get enough.

Except for when she did stop reading to look up and see you still working from time to time.

Yelena took notice of the things you did. How you acted. How often you pushed your hair back behind your ears. She quickly liked you and was in dire need of someone new. A friend, so to say. But she could tell you were somewhat guarded.

Troubled wasn't the correct word, but Yelena could see it.

It was quiet the last hour you worked. No other Yelena's came in. Leaving you to finish up logging the stack Agatha wanted done. And yet. Every so often, your eyes drifted back to the blonde in the green froggy chair. Her eyes were glued to the words she was reading, and you couldn't help but smile at how she bit her lip as she concentrated.

But who was she?

You pulled your gaze away and again tried to think of an excuse to get yourself out of what the rest of the night would bring, but you couldn't.

It was almost like your heart was on its last line. Giving you nothing so you'd jump headfirst into this opportunity.

It wanted you to keep going.

"Alright!" Agatha came out from her office in the back. Walking straight past Yelena. "Closing time, hon!" She said to you as she grabbed the stack of books and moved them elsewhere.

Yelena got up from her spot, pushed the froggy chair in, and started walking towards the two of you.

"So, any plans for the next two days?" Agatha always asked the same question, even if you both knew the answer. Except this time, when you went to answer, Yelena spoke for you. "Actually-"

"Oh my God!" Agatha screamed and turned around with her hand over her heart. "Where did you come from!?" Agatha exclaimed as she came down from her fright.

Yelena proceeded to look from her to you and back to the kids corner. "From over there." She pointed. "I was just reading." She held up a book you were very familiar with.

Agatha, of course, took notice of that.

"Ah, looks like you picked up one of Y/N's guilty pleasures." Yelena looked at you. "Really?!" She asked you as you still stood behind the counter. "Uhh yeah." You answered honestly.

Yelena smiled wide enough that her dimples showed, and you felt something in your stomach that you had not felt in a very, very long time.

"Well, I'd like to get it." Agatha quickly wrapped an arm around Yelena and pulled her to the counter. Yelena, not looking too happy about this, let it happen. "Oh, of course, dear!" Agatha said, taking the book from her hand and into yours. "Y/N could also probably show you a lot more that she loves."

You picked up on Agatha's secret message.

Yelena did not.

"Actually, Y/N is showing me all around the city tonight!" Yelena smiled with glee.

Meanwhile, Agatha turned her head to you with a grin. "Is she now?" She asked a clueless Yelena. "Yep," Yelena said as she went to pay for the book, but Agatha stopped her. "Oh, here, take it!" She put the book into a bag and quickly gave it to Yelena. "A friend of Y/N's is a friend of mine. Especially a special one like you." She not so slyly said as you clocked out and grabbed your bag from the floor.

"Oh, thank you!" Yelena seemed genuinely grateful for the book and watched as you came around the counter.

Yelena's eyes quickly scanned your black vans and high-waisted jeans. Traveling up, she could see the entire band t-shirt underneath the open brown jacket you just threw on.

When Yelena's eyes met yours, you both smiled.

"Okay, well, you two, be safe and have fun!" Agatha said as she practically shoved the two of you out the door. "Wear protection." She whispered into your ear before closing the door and locking it.

You rubbed your ear and did your best to forget about her joke; all the while, Yelena just looked at you as you both started walking.

"So where to first!"

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You asked, confusing Yelena. "Well, of course. Do you not? You agreed, remember?" She said, making you nod. "Yes, I know it's just..."

"It's just what?" Yelena asked as you stopped walking and faced her.

"It's just we don't know each other." Yelena rolled her eyes and started walking away, knowing you'd follow. And you did. "Y/N Y/L/N, we already went over this. We shook hands. We know each other now. Okay?" She turned her head. "Now get we just hang out and be friends."

You stopped dead in your tracks.

Hang out and be friends.

That sounded wonderful.

You smiled. Like a real smile. And started walking again. "Yeah. You're right. That sounds good."

"Of course I'm right," Yelena responded, making you laugh. She laughed too because she was surprised by your laugh.

You two continued your walk in silence. The only thing breaking it up was the plastic bag with her book hitting Yelena's leg every once in a while.

"Here."

"No, it's mine." She pulled the bag away from you.

"Yes, I know that. I was going to put it in my bag so you're not carrying it the whole time." You explained. Yelena just looked at you and extended her hand with the handle of the bag wrapped around her palm. "Sorry." She said.

"You don't need to apologize." You said in a softer tone as you took the bag. "I just... I didn't want your arms to get tired."

Yelena watched you push your hair behind your ears for what must've been the hundredth time that night.

"I'm sorry if this is rude..." You started as you and Yelena turned down a new block. "But where are you from originally?" You grabbed onto the straps of your book bag and waited for Yelena's answer. "Russia." She said.

Ah. That made sense.

"How long did you live there?"

Yelena thought about her answer. "We lived there when I was a kid, then came to America before going back. What about you?" She asked, not wanting to talk more about it.

"All over the United States. My dad moved us around a lot." You remember your childhood, and not many happy moments come to mind. "Do you like it here?" She asked, gesturing to the city as you passed by a fat rat eating a pizza.

"Sometimes." You said and quickly moved on. "What about you? Is it your first time here? I mean, I assume so, but..." You trailed off as Yelena started to talk. "I've been here a couple of times. But it's always been for meetings for work, so I never got to explore and stuff." Yelena said, and you watched the way her eyes danced across the sky and the bright lights of skyscrapers getting closer and closer. "But this time, I don't have work. My sister was planning on taking me around, but she ended up being busy."

That was new info. "Oh, you have a sister!? Older or younger?"

"Older," Yelena said. "Her name's Natasha. She lives not far from your shop."

You made a note of that. "Oh, cool! Do you think she's ever been by the shop?" You asked, wondering if you had seen someone that looked like Yelena before.

But you think you would have remembered if you had.

Yelena shakes her head. "Probably not." You looked from Yelena's side profile to the sidewalk before looking back. You loved her earrings. Slowly, your eyes moved from the earrings to her neck. You watched the way her skin disappeared under her top. "She just got a girlfriend," Yelena said, breaking you from your thoughts. "So I thought I'd explore the city by myself..." Yelena's eyes meet yours. "Until I met you."

There it was again. That long dormant feeling in your stomach being broken by a fluttering.

"It hasn't been bad so far." She then added, making you smile. "Thanks." You shook your head and looked up at the street signs, figuring out the best place to go, when Yelena ran ahead of you to the other side of the street—not paying attention to the street lights or cars that slammed on their breaks.

"I want one!" She yelled back to you, making you realize what she ran to.

A pretzel cart.

"At least it's not a hot dog cart," you thought as you quickly ran to her. Sending a flat smile to the angry cab driver, Yelena pissed off. "Here." Yelena handed you a hot pretzel before taking the cups of mustard and cheese. "It smells so good!" She said as you two said bye to the man pedaling the cart.

And without warning, Yelena bit into the pretzel still in your hand. Luckily, she wasn't anywhere near your finger. "Oh, my gofh." Her words muffled by the pretzel. "If ho goof!" You nodded to her and smiled as pieces of salt fell from her lips.

Yelena took your eyes off of her lips by pushing the pretzel up closer to your mouth.

You couldn't remember the last time you had a hot pretzel or one from a cart on the street. But one look to Yelena and her big eyes made you cave.

You loved it.

"Good, right?!" Yelena said after she swallowed but not before tearing another piece to dip into the cheese sauce. You nodded. "Bery goof!"

Yelena laughed as her body brushed up against yours, as the two of you found yourselves passing by a group of teens making music from buckets and their own mouths.

As you watched with a group of other people, Yelena stole glances to you like she had at the bookstore. She found something new every time she looked your way. Her favorite discovery was two moles on the left side of your neck.

She smiled as she thought about drawing a curved line underneath them to make a smile.

Because that's another thing Yelena discovered.

She liked seeing you smile.

She was glad she met you tonight.

Moments like these blossomed as you took Yelena into Times Square. She made you take her to an American coffee shop, aka Dunkin, before you took pictures of her in front of the giant screens and crazy stores that lined the streets.

And when you weren't looking, she made sure to take some of you.

For you.

If you wanted!

Regardless, you took her to the financial district and then to a place where the noise of the city seemed to stop, past the memorial and to the tip of New York.

"What do you mean it doesn't light up?" Yelena tilted her head before looking back to the Statue of Liberty. You laughed as Yelena shook her head. "She has a torch! It should light up!" You didn't say anything but laugh because, honestly, you agreed with her. How cool would it be if the torch was on fire?! "Still cool, though," Yelena said before turning around.

After that, Yelena and you found yourselves at a bar you've never been to after exiting the subway at a random stop.

What turned into you showing Yelena around turned into a random exploration of the city.

Something you would normally advise against, but you were having fun and smiling more in a couple of hours than you had in a long time.

To Yelena, she was having a blast and didn't want the night to end.

So, drink after drink and shot after shot, you and Yelena danced to whatever the DJ played and ate greasy New York Pizza while watching guys shoot their shot and miss horribly from the comfort of a booth.

"Oh, it's my Sestra!" Yelena picked up the phone with a bubbly glee before scooting closer to you and answering the FaceTime, not caring about the loud bar in the background.

Her face almost touching yours.

You smiled as you looked at your two faces in the top left-hand corner before focusing on the person filling the giant frame.

"Yelena, where- Oh?!!" A confused-looking redhead emerged from the darkness of the screen before turning on a light next to them.

It's clear that they were sleeping.

And Yelena called them. Not the other way around.

"Yelena, who are you with!?" Yelena's sister questioned as she looked from her sister to you. "Who are you and where are you!?! It's so loud!"

You went to open your mouth, but Yelena stopped you by pulling the phone to be in front of her. "Natasha! This is Y/N! She's sweet, so don't be such a grump!" Yelena scoffed before sipping on her red cocktail.

You scooted closer to try and listen, but it was challenging due to the throwback 2000s that was playing.

But your ears did catch: "I know she's pretty!"

You turned away and smiled at that before picking up your drink.

"Oh my gosh! Go to bed! Bye!!- yes, I love you too!" Was what you heard when you decided to start listening again.

"Sisters can be so annoying," Yelena said as she shook her head. "She seems to love you though." Your drunk mind said, making Yelena turn to you. "Well, of course. I'm the best." Her face broke out into a grin that made you smile wide. "And yes, I love her." She took another sip while not so subtlety scooting closer to you. "Apparently, she was sleeping." Yelena rolls her eyes.

"So the date went well?" You rested your head on your hand and gave Yelena your full attention.

Yelena's eyes ran up your arm. Past your small stick and poke tattoo that you talked about briefly when you walked through a park that she couldn't remember the name of. And up to your fingers, where she glanced over the gold ring you bought for yourself two years ago. Past your unpainted nails until she landed on your face.

Your eyes.

Yelena nodded. "I think she had an amazing night."

It wasn't an easy trip back home.

But somehow, you and Yelena made it to your place safely.

Okay. You don't know how you made it to your place safely.

Yelena knows it's because she wasn't as drunk as you and could walk straight and could sing the real version of American Pie.

Whereas, on the train ride to your stop, you tried to convince Yelena that the Weird Al Yankovic Star Wars Parody was the real version.

But Yelena didn't know what Star Wars was and knew the original song by Don McLean by heart.

After Yelena set you down on the couch, she quickly looked around your place. It wasn't far from Natasha's due to the proximity to the bookstore.

Yelena thought your space was cute, but it wasn't decorated very well. In fact, Yelena found it interesting.

Odd. Would be another word for it.

She discovered most of your belongings were in boxes labeled to different names and places.

She walked to the fridge and grabbed a cold water bottle, knowing this would help sober you up more than the cool air had helped so far.

"Here." Yelena handed you the bottle as she crouched down in front of you. You took the water without a problem and opened it. Chugging it like it would be the last time.

"Thank you." You said into the air of feet between the two of you. "You're welcome," Yelena said back before she moved to sit next to you. You watched her the whole time.

In fact, the whole night, it became harder to keep your eyes off of her.

Maybe it was the drinks.

Maybe it wasn't.

"I had a great time." You said, making Yelena turn to you. She could smell the alcohol still dancing on your tongue, but you could smell hers. So it didn't really matter. "I did, too!" Yelena smiled. "Thank you." She said, making up shake your head the tiniest bit. "No, Yelena. Thank you."

It was hard to see because of how dim the lights behind you were, but you could've swore you saw Yelena's cheeks turn pink.

Yelena wanted to lean into you. She wanted to take this leap. But she couldn't. She didn't want to jeopardize anything. So, instead, she turned away from you.

You who wouldn't have said no. You who would've kissed her back and savored her taste. You who, if Yelena was going to be your last, you wanted to make it count.

But she turned away.

She looked at the book on your coffee table and recognized it immediately.

The book from your job. The book Agatha gave her.

"Oh wow! You really do love it!" Yelena leaned forward and picked it up. "Oh, I do more than love it." You said, acting coy. Confusing Yelena. "What do you mean?" With your foot, you pointed to a book near your bedroom door. Yelena got up and stood in front of it. "Nothings going to jump out and get me right?" She asked like a scared kid making you laugh. "It's safe. I promise."

Yelena took you by your word and opened the box. Inside were more copies of the book. Brand new.

You wrote it.

Yelena looked up at you with a fresh copy in hand. "You're Emily Hornberg?!" She said as she made her way in front of you.

You nodded. "I am."

Yelena froze as she held the hardcover in her hand. "Why aren't these everywhere?! It's great!" She asked questions and wanted to ask many others, but you held up your hand and leaned up from the back of your couch. "No one bought them." You took the book from her hand.

The touch of your fingers on her skin made her burn with pleasure.

"I would," Yelena said.

You looked up at her and her puppy dog eyes. "Take them."

"The whole box?"

You nodded.

Yelena waited for the joke to end, but you just looked at her until the room's silence continued for too long. And when your eyes darted away, that's when Yelena took a look around the room one more time.

Boxes of your things. Envelopes on top. No personal pictures throw about. Your work- a story the two of you loved waiting to be given away.

It dawned on her.

Yelena's eyes found the top of your head. "No." She said as tears slowly filled her eyes. "Please..." She said when you didn't look up, instead re-reading the back of the book repeatedly.

Yelena wanted you to look at her to see if this was really your plan. She reached forward and grabbed the book from your hand with ease and threw it into your bedroom door. You jumped and looked up.

Tears were in your eyes, too.

"Y/N..." Yelena said as she crouched in front of you, her voice the opposite of her previous action. Soft. "Yelena..." Your voice cracked as tears slipped down your cheek.

This time, Yelena went with her gut as she wrapped her arms around you, holding you close and letting you sob into her shoulder.

Apologies and a bunch of mind-twisting truths spilled from you as Yelena did nothing but hold you close and whisper into your ear about how much you changed her life tonight.

You watched as Diane, a mom of two daughters, talked about a night recently when her oldest asked them where their daddy had gone.

You held back the tears in your throat as you couldn't help but picture if that had been you people asked questions about. If you weren't sitting in a metal chair, that did shit for your back.

When Diane was finished, the time had hit six o'clock, meaning that group was over.

As people filed out, you hung back to stack the chairs with the leader, Lizzie—a thrifty-something brunette who had green eyes that reminded you of another.

"Any plans this weekend?" She asked to break up, the only sound being the clanking of the chairs. You shrugged. "Maybe go to the beach." Lizzie nodded. "And the writing?" She asked. "Has that been going well?"

You stopped as you put up the last chair.

"If you want to save it for group, we can." She said as she placed a hand on your arm. You shook your head. "It's fine." Lizzie nodded with an understanding smile. "I just have this one idea about a character. But... I don't know." Lizzie patted your arm before she pulled her hand away. "Well, I think it sounds great. Something that you should keep exploring."

You nodded, knowing she was right. Like always. It was kind of annoying but in a fun way.

"See you Monday?" She asked as you walked to the exit. "Same time." You replied, making Lizzie send you a thumbs up.

You took one last look at her green eyes before leaving through the double door. Immediately, you were attacked by someone you had not been expecting. "Jesus, Agatha! What the fuck!" You shouted at your friend and boss. "Gotcha!" She winked and pulled you close.

"What are you doing here?" You asked as she let you go. "Saving you from taking the subway, hon." She replied as she rounded her car. "You coming?" She asked, knowing that she wouldn't take no for an answer.

You followed.

"You know..." You said as Agatha pulled out of her illegal parking spot. "You don't have to keep picking me up every Friday. I'll be fine."

"I know." She replied. "I want to." You nodded and let your defense down. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." She said as she hit the CD button. "Besides, I want to show you a display I was working on today."

You looked over at Agatha. "Okay." You said before tilting your head. "It's not another Collen Hoover display because I swear to Go-" Agatha stopped you. "That was a prank one time!!" You rolled your eyes. "One too many." You mumble, making Agatha slap your arm.

The drive wasn't long, but it was long enough where your mind kept floating back to Yelena, how she held you night and stayed by your side for the weeks that followed. How you struggled and fought with your own mind and body. The good days and bad. The days that became worse.

She was there.

But it wasn't becoming easy for the blonde. How were you to know that Yelena had been pushing work off for a month after your first night together? How she wanted to protect you. How she stayed up shopping your book around to different publishers for hours after you fell asleep next to her.

Or even how she didn't hear your confessions of more fall from your lips because she had fallen asleep as you laid on her chest.

"How's Yelena?" As if Agatha could sense where your thoughts had gone, she asked a question to make you frown. "She was gone this morning." You replied, making Agatha immediately take her eyes off the road to look at you. "She what!"

"10 and 2!" You shouted. Once the car was not going to crash, you looked over at the older woman. "Yeah, she was gone this morning, and all of my calls and texts haven't been answered." You looked down at your phone and back to Agatha. "Did I do something wrong?" You asked.

"No." Agatha instantly replied. "You did nothing wrong. Besides. Let's not jump to any conclusions she maybe got busy with her sister or something."

The thought of texting Natasha had crossed your mind, but a part of you was scared, and you didn't want to have someone else worry about your dangerous thoughts.

"Alright. Let's pop in quickly, and then I'll walk you home." Agatha said as she parked the car and threw off her seatbelt. Excited to show you the new display. You follow suit at about less than half the excitement.

Agatha waited at the front door and let you go in first, but you stopped in the open doorway when you lifted your eyes. "Go!" Agatha pushed you in as you froze, staring at Yelena.

Agatha quickly followed in and locked the door behind herself.

Yelena stared back at you with a smile. "Come here." Yelena quietly said with an outstretched hand.

"Where were you?" You asked with your voice not as gentle. "In Jersey," Yelena replied, making you tilt your head as you took steps closer as you knew she wasn't lying.

You went to ask a million more questions, but Yelena surprised you by taking steps forward to grab your hand in hers. "I'm sorry I ignored you today. But I promise Y/N Y/L/N I'll never do that again." You looked into her green eyes and could feel the love. "I just want to surprise you."

"Surprise me?"

Yelena hated surprises, so this intrigued you more.

She nodded with a big grin before biting her bottom lip and turning around. Yelena pulled you to the spinning book display.

"That's my book..." You said. Yelena watched your eyes dance across the multiple copies. "It says my name. My real name..." You watched Yelena's hands pick up a copy and hand it to you.

With the spine facing you.

At the bottom of the spine, it had a publishing house logo.

Your mouth moved up and down as your emotions threatened to spill out. Yelena could see it, too. "Here." Her voice was light and soft as she took your hand and moved it to the back of the book.

Inside was a picture that Yelena had taken of your first night together. It's you standing at the bottom of the red stairs in Times Square, looking up. Yelena couldn't help it as you looked beautiful. But Yelena's favorite part of the picture is that you could see your two moles.

And on the inside of this copy, Yelena drew the tiniest line underneath them.

A smile.

"Yelena..." You swallowed a sob as you looked up to her. "Detka." She responded as you still had no idea what it meant. She saw the tears in your eyes and brought her hand to your cheek. "You did this for me?" You asked, forcing a laugh from Yelena.

"It's only because I love you."

That broke you.

You collapsed into her arms as Yelena kissed the sides of your face and head. "I lobe yov too!" Yelena's shoulder muffled your declaration.

But she heard you and smiled.

"I'm proud of you," Yelena whispered into your ear. "Thank you." You whispered back, only to earn a shake of the head. "You don't need to thank me for something that's honest and easy. You did all the hard work." You looked up at her. "I'll be here," Yelena said.

"I'm happy you came in here that night."

"Me too."

As your lips pressed against hers in a passionate kiss, Agatha adverted her eyes and found herself being unwanted at this moment.

Meanwhile, as you and Yelena separated from one another, you both couldn't help but think how different your lives would be if Yelena hadn't stepped into this shop...

But two years later, as you found yourselves at a party celebrating your second book about a hot blonde female spy, Yelena held a box in her pocket.

Happy that she'd never have to know any other life besides this one.

dividers by @/benkeibear

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alexandria-alexis · 1 year ago

Text

The point of no return

The life that Charles Leclerc shares with the outside world is very different to the life he leads behind closed doors.

It comes as a shock to him when he realises that the one person he can trust is the man who he has spent his entire career fighting against. Max Verstappen.

NC-17

Heavy Mentions of Domestic Abuse

Charles Leclerc / Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc / Original Male Character(s)

(Please read the tags before beginning)

Thank you for all the support. Chapter 1 & 2 are out now <3

#max verstappen #charles leclerc #lestappen #f1 fanfic #heavy themes #rating: nc17

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tima7fa · 8 months ago

Text

Talk To Me

Gojo Satoru x Therapy

Contents: satoru being stupid, reader is a therapist, reader is sugurus sister, didn't adress it that much because my hands hurt and I'm lazy, mention of character death, I honestly don't think this is very romantic probably more platonic, I hate this actually for some reason, this is the longest shit I've written in a while

Note: Satoru doesn't know reader is sugurus sister because she has a different last name, and while she was studying at the same school suguru never knew he had an older sister reader knew she has a younger brother but she never approached him or said anything to him what she regrets the most

And do not attack me yall I don't know how therapy works okay? I've never been there even tho some people tell me I should go to therapy

"Suguru geto is dead."

Your hand froze, the pen you were holding punched a jagged hole through the paper, which became surrounded by a spreading pool of ink. You stared blankly at the damaged sheet, the room falling silent around you in a suffocating hush.

Your gaze slowly met the somber expression of the man seated across from you. "Why are you telling me this, Principal Yaga?" you asked, your voice laced with a veneer of mournful softness.

The man shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "He was your younger brother-"

"No," you interjected firmly, cutting him off. "I do not know such a man, so please do not speak of him to me here." The harshness in your tone was palpable as you released your grip on the pen, crumpling the ruined paper into an uneven ball and tossing it into the nearby wastebasket.

"You were always a terrible liar, you know," Yaga remarked, reaching a hand out to gently wipe the tears that had carved burning paths down your cheeks. "I would have believed you if your eyes weren't betraying so much grief."

"I'm not crying because of him," you protested desperately, though your futile attempts to stem the flow of tears proved fruitless.

"Child..." Yaga murmured, pulling you from your seat and enveloping you in a comforting embrace. You clung to him tightly, burying your face into the reassuring solidity of his chest as you surrendered to your sorrowful outpouring.

After some time, you finally managed to regain your composure. Yaga handed you a stack of files, and your eyes immediately fell upon a photograph of a white-haired man.

"There is someone I need you to help," the dark-haired man began. "Satoru Gojo." You uttered the name of the renowned child prodigy, staring at Yaga with a look of confusion.

"Satoru and Suguru were close friends, with a deep connection to one another..." Yaga trailed off, his expression heavy with concern. "The one who ended up killing Suguru... was Satoru himself. And he is not in a good mental state."

"I know I'm asking a great deal of you, to help the person who took your brother's life, but-"

"I'll help him," you interrupted, offering Yaga a weak, but resolute smile.

The man's eyes widened with surprise, but his gaze remained clouded with worry. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

You simply nodded in response, steeling your resolve to assist the one who had taken your beloved sibling from you.

___________________________________________

It's absolutely preposterous. No, wait - it's downright hilarious. Satoru Gojo, of all people, being forced into therapy? What a cruel twist of fate. He never wanted this, never needed this. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, he's been strongarmed into it, all thanks to Principal Yaga's meddling.

Surely, this has to be some sort of twisted joke. But alas, he has no choice in the matter. It's either submit to this ludicrous therapy session or risk losing his teaching position - a job he cherishes, as it allows him to continue molding his students, pushing them to heights greater than even his own.

And so, here he sits, in this cozy little room, across from a woman armed with a pad and pen, scrutinizing him through his thick black shades. How is he, a sorcerer tasked with the mastery of curses, supposed to confide in this simple human about the intricacies of his life? She likely doesn't even have the faintest idea what "cursed energy" is, let alone the trials and tribulations he faces on a daily basis.

But he can't ignore the neatly maintained amount of cursed energy emerging from her.

Of course, he has no intention of revealing anything of substance. If he so much as mentions the nature of his work, she'd probably have him committed to a mental institution faster than he can blink.

"So what brings you here today, Mr. Gojo?" the woman asks, her voice dripping with false sweetness, a saccharine smile plastered across her face.

Satoru huffs heavily, the irritation seeping into his tone. "I'm not here by choice. Principal Yaga forced me to come here."

"I know," she responds, and Gojo raises a brow, surprised by her candor. "And I can see that this is your first time here."

"I'm asking you why do you think you're here," the therapist probes, her brows furrowing as Satoru satoru shifts in his seat, crossing his legs defiantly.

"Because I was forced to be here-" he begins, only to be swiftly interrupted.

"Why?" she presses, her tone infuriatingly calm and measured.

Satoru falls silent, staring at her blankly, his irritation palpable. This is supposed to be his time to vent, and yet she keeps interjecting, undermining his attempts at explanation. He already finds her immensely grating.

"Mr. Gojo?" the therapist gingerly tilts her head, awaiting his answer. Satoru sighs heavily, the frustration clear in his voice.

"Because Principal Yaga thinks I'm in desperate need of therapy," he spits through gritted teeth, the mere recollection of that argument making his blood boil.

"What about you? What do you think?" she probes further, her expression maddeningly serene.

"That all of this is stupid. I'm not in need of therapy - I'm perfectly fucking fine," satoru retorts, turning his head away to gaze out the window, where the rain has now begun to fall. He's the strongest sorcerer, for God's sake - he doesn't require aid from anyone.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't need it," she calmly asserts, and satoru can feel his nails digging into the flesh of his biceps through his clothes, crescent-shaped indentations surely imprinting his skin.

His gaze snaps back to her, a scowl etched upon his features. "The hell you mean?" he spits, his tone dripping with venom. "I just told you I was forced to be here. Why the hell don't you understand that?"

"If you were actually fine, Mr. Gojo, you wouldn't be here," the therapist repeats, her saccharine smile infuriating him to no end.

"Since it's your first time here, I'll explain to you how therapy works-" the therapist begins, only to be swiftly cut off by satoru's acerbic retort.

"I know how it works. I spill my guts out to you, you give me some useless advice, write some bullshit on your pad, diagnose that I'm somehow mentally ill - blah, blah, blah," he interjects mockingly, rolling his eyes with palpable annoyance.

The therapist pauses, staring at him for a moment before chuckling softly. "Therapists aren't actually supposed to give advice, as we know that it won't help our clients in any meaningful way or may even make them feel worse. So we avoid doing that. Rather than giving you advice, we guide you to see how your feelings, thoughts, choices, and actions affect one another. And we teach you about emotions, thoughts, coping skills, facing fears, and more."

Satoru scoffs in return, unimpressed. It doesn't matter to him what her job description entails. How the hell is he supposed to feel comfortable when he's paying a person to listen to him? She doesn't genuinely want to hear his problems (not that he has any, of course). And who knows, she'll probably gossip about the shit he says with her friends.

"Now, how about you start telling me about your day?" she inquires, switching the subject, having likely noticed his lingering irritation. Satoru scoffs, as though that were a mind-numbingly dull question.

"My day? Same as any other day," Satoru shrugs. "What do you want to know? The weather? I took a very interesting dump in the morning? Got myself some food, did whatever the hell teachers do - the usual."

The therapist sighs, seemingly ready to give up on that line of questioning, or perhaps regretting having asked it in the first place. Even so, she jots something down on her pad, and Satoru isn't sure if what he said was actually so worthy of being noted.

"Do you seriously have to take notes? What was so important in my answer to write down?" he questions, his tone mocking.

"Everything you say is important, Mr. Gojo," she replies with a hum.

"Really? Is it really that important that I took a dump this morning?" Satoru laughs derisively. Therapy is a joke, as far as he's concerned.

The therapist looks at him with those eerily calm eyes once more, her irritatingly artificial smile still plastered on her face. "You're a teacher - what did you teach your students today?"

What.

"Aren't you supposed to ask me what subjects I teach?" Satoru looked at her suspiciously, wondering if Yaga had somehow explained to her that he is a sorcerer.

"You're a jujutsu sorcerer. There's no need for me to ask what subjects you teach," she replied calmly.

Satoru leaned in, his elbow resting on his thigh as he held his chin in his palm. "You seem to know a lot about me, doc. Just who are you exactly?" A grin appeared on his face, as he considered the possibility that she might also be a sorcerer like him. Outside of the jujutsu domain, humans don't typically know who Gojo Satoru is.

"I'm your therapist," she simply replied, and his brow twitched slightly. "You know what I'm asking, miss."

"What do you think?" She tilted her head, smiling at him. Of course, she would turn the question back to him - it always has to be about his feelings and thoughts in therapy.

"You are a sorceress," he muttered, no longer doubting the amount of cursed energy he felt in the room. She must be a skilled sorceress, able to maintain her cursed energy at a small, unnoticed level surrounding her.

But why would Principal Yaga assign a sorceress to him? Was this some kind of trick? The woman before him is probably not even a real therapist. Still, he's never heard of her name before - perhaps she's a sorceress from another nation?

"Close. I was a sorceress," she revealed.

Satoru's brow furrowed. Why did she quit? And why did she become a therapist? Just who is she exactly?

"Now, why don't we get back on track?" she inquired, smoothly switching the subject and ending his train of thought.

The rest of the session was simply her attempting to get to know him better, or rather, analyze him. However, satoru did not give her that opportunity. Why should he? Yaga had only instructed him to attend therapy, not that it had to be effective. Honestly, satoru did not particularly care about this endeavor.

Why should he divulge information about himself to someone he barely even knows? Not to mention, she is being paid to listen to him - she is not doing this out of her own volition or good-hearted intentions.

She likely does not truly care about his problems (not that he has any, in his opinion). So why should his feelings and thoughts matter to her? She is merely performing her job, nothing more, nothing less.

Satoru has no intention of pouring his heart out to a complete stranger he knows little about. He understands that therapy is meant to provide him with a safe space to be vulnerable and open about everything. But he does not feel comfortable in this room.

___________________________________________

Satoru sighs, leaning his cheek against his fist as he relaxes in the chair in front of her.

"You worry too much," he says casually. "Why don't we ever talk about your feelings? We only ever talk about me."

Satoru is aware that she only wants the best for him. He simply does not care. He is here because it is mandatory, not because he wants to be. He does not believe he needs therapy, despite her claims otherwise. As his therapist, of course she would tell him he requires this treatment.

It has been a month since their therapy sessions began, and satoru has not been the least bit cooperative. The only aspect he has enjoyed is the freedom to freely criticize the higher-ups without anyone chastising him or telling him it is inappropriate.

She would always listen intently to every word that came out of his mouth, diligently noting things down in her little pad. Honestly, not even his own students gave him the same level of attention that she bestowed upon him. He couldn't help but appreciate the fact that his feelings mattered in this space, that what he said truly held significance. He liked that. And he couldn't deny that he enjoyed her undivided attention on him.

"Because I'm your therapist, and I'm supposed to listen to you. Not the other way around." She sighed softly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "How many times do we have to go through this conversation?" She looked utterly exhausted, and he almost felt a tinge of guilt for making this so difficult for her. Keyword: almost.

He knew that she was simply doing her job. But he didn't care - he would make her tired of him until she gave up on him.

Yet, at the same time, the thought of her giving up on him left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn't really want that.

He shrugged, smirking. "As many times as you want to," he said, with his ever-present sense of humor. "I can keep dodging questions all day, if you like. I'm perfectly fine just existing in this room while you try to wrangle me into being vulnerable."

"However, I can't say the same about you, doctor." He taunted.

"I am not trying to make you vulnerable, I'm trying to help you understand your feelings and maybe find solutions for your problems, Mr. Gojo," she said calmly, as she crossed her legs and leaned back into her chair.

Satoru rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, waving his hand dismissively as he slumped against the back of his chair. "Help me understand my problems. Solve them. Figure out why I am the way I am. Heard it all before."

He knew he had to be here, in therapy, every week. However, that didn't mean he had to be vulnerable or cooperate with all this touchy-feely stuff. He simply didn't like that kind of thing.

"What makes you the happiest, Mr. Gojo?" She began asking him again. Seriously, how many questions did she prepare for him every time? He couldn't deny that he didn't dislike the fact that she worked so hard, just for him.

Hm.

It was a question he had genuinely considered. What made him the happiest?

"Fighting," he said after a pause. He gave a casual shrug. "I enjoy fights. They're fun. And when they get hard, it makes me want to try even harder. So... I guess that's what makes me the happiest - winning a difficult fight."

"The rush of adrenaline makes me feel... I don't know, excited? You know," he muttered, finding it somewhat challenging to articulate.

She scribbled some more notes in her pad. "Is there any fight that made you especially happy?" she then asked, her gaze shifting back to him from her pad.

"Mhm," he hummed, a small smirk forming on his face. This was a fun question for him. "Well... there was the time I got to fight a special grade," he said, the smile widening as he recalled the memory. "And that time I beat Toji. That's a really good memory."

"I would've died. But he didn't use a cursed tool, and didn't cut my head off," he chuckled, as if it were something to be happy about. "You should've seen the look on his face when he saw me, the one he supposedly killed, still alive and kicking."

"But I can't say I'm not grateful to him. Because I got to finally learn how reverse cursed technique works," he said with a wide grin on his face, and she followed suit by taking more notes in her pad.

He noticed her actions and stared at her with an exaggerated eyebrow raise. "Go ahead, make your notes about me being a sadist and liking to inflict pain or something. Then go back and analyze it with all your other therapist friends."

"I already said this before, whatever happens in this room will stay in this room, Mr. Gojo," she replied. "So be not afraid to spill anything to me."

"Yeah, yeah," he smirked, amused.

"What's my diagnosis, doc?" He tilted his head, staring at her as she lifted her head up from her pad to meet his gaze. "I'm a very bad person, don't you think? I love the pain I inflict on curses, I love the way they fear me, the fear in their eyes makes me feel so fucking excited," he laughed loudly.

"And when their blood taints my skin and clothes, it's such a disgusting texture yet it makes me want to be covered more with their blood. It feels so fucking amazing," he stared at her, awaiting a visible reaction, but he was met with nothing but an empty smile and empty eyes.

He hates this. He hates her. She's just an empty shell.

"You're just as crazy as I am, doc. Aren't ya?"

___________________________________________

But before she could say anything, the session had already ended, and Satoru was quick on his feet to get out of there.

Satoru rolls his eyes at her words and sighs. He leans back into the chair and spreads his legs, getting comfortable.

"This is such a pain," he mutters. "Do we really have to talk today? There's nothing to discuss. I'm peachy keen."

"Mr. Gojo, I need you to be a little more cooperative," she uttered gently.

"Do you, now?" Satoru's tone was dry, like sandpaper, his expression unchanging. He tilted his head slightly to the side. He could tell she was running out of patience, but that didn't stop him from being intentionally difficult. In fact, it made it more fun for him. "Yes, it's for your own good."

Satoru chuckles a little bit. "Aaaand here's the old 'it's for your own good' trope again, huh?" He shook his head, feigning mock disappointment. "I thought we were done with that by now, honestly."

"I do think that you really need this," she said seriously. "Look, Mr. Gojo, you might show your playful and cheerful side to everyone around you, but that is only a way to make them feel safe around you. I don't know what it's like to be the strongest, but I know that it can get pretty lonely standing on your own on top."

"You make it sound like I'm unhappy or something," he replied, shaking his head again. "Is it really so crazy for you to think that I'm perfectly fine being by myself? That I prefer being alone?" A small smile appeared on his face again. "I'm not lonely, doctor. I get more attention than I want, actually."

"That's not it," she sighed, shaking her head. "I know you have friends, you're a pretty talkative person and also a person who's approachable." She gave him a small smile. "Still, being surrounded by people doesn't mean that you feel the warmth of comfort. You keep them around you but still hold a certain distance between you and them that you never let them cross. You never let people get too close to you, which is a problem because you're isolating yourself from the world even if you think you're doing the opposite."

His small smile faded, and he rolled his eyes as he began to look agitated. He sat up, leaning forward towards her, his elbows on his knees. "What's with the armchair psychology? Where are you even getting all of this? You don't know me. You can't just assume these kinds of things based on just a few therapy sessions."

"I'm sorry if this is making you uncomfortable, and please do correct me if I'm wrong. But there are a lot of people who feel lonely even while being surrounded by people," she sighed.

"Regrettably, I struggle to forge meaningful connections with others," he murmured, running his fingers through his hair. "They fail to comprehend me. They do not know the true me. They would be unable to accept me as I truly am, so I ceased exerting the effort. I stopped attempting to force something that was simply never going to materialize. Therefore, I shall keep everyone at a distance, for that is what they deserve. I do not grapple with the kinds of issues you presume I do, so desist in your efforts to analyze me."

She replied softly, "They are unaware of your authentic self because that is the outcome you desire, Mr. Gojo. If you are unwilling to be truthful about your personality and emotions with another individual, can you genuinely call that a connection? A relationship? It is all constructed upon walls of deception, intended to keep them at bay."

Satoru's response was tinged with bitterness. "So you are asserting that the fault lies with me for people's rejection, correct?" He leaned forward, his arms crossed defensively over his knees. A sardonic smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I have made attempts to be honest with others. I have exerted the effort before, yet all I ever received in return was judgment and fear. I shall not place myself in that position again."

"The fault does not lie with you that they do not like you. However, the fault lies with you in presenting a false persona to them daily. Allow me to pose a question - from all the individuals surrounding you, can you name a single person who truly knows you?" she inquired.

Satoru's expression darkened at her words, the façade he maintained for others striking a chord. How could she discern this about him? It irritated him, albeit slightly. His gaze hardened with annoyance.

"No," he admitted in defeat. "I am surrounded by those I call friends, yet not a single soul among them truly knows me."

"Why not try opening up to them?" she suggested. "I will not ask you to confide in me, for I understand you do not particularly enjoy conversing with me, and that is perfectly acceptable. However, I am certain that at least one person would be willing to listen. Believe it or not, if they truly care for you, they will accept you with all your vulnerabilities and flaws."

A scoff escaped his lips at her proposal. "I'd rather not," he stated firmly. There was a sense of finality in his tone, and he was resolute in his decision. He had no desire to open up to anyone. That struck him as a waste of time.

"Even were I to open up to someone, there is a zero percent chance they would genuinely accept me for who I am. It is merely wishful thinking on your part, and you know it," he added.

"I would be truly delighted if you felt inclined to open up, Mr. Gojo. I sincerely implore you to believe me when I say I am fully attentive and receptive to whatever you wish to share," she sighed.

"Yeah, yeah..." he responded dismissively.

Satoru maintained his smirk, genuinely impressed by her unwavering conviction. He leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin pensively. "Why are you being so uncharacteristically kind?" he inquired. "Most therapists I've encountered are arrogant, know-it-all types. You, on the other hand, seem far too amiable. I'm not entirely convinced."

His expression suddenly hardened as he leaned forward, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "You're deceiving me," he declared. "You must have some ulterior motive. Therapists do not pose those ostensibly benevolent questions out of pure kindness. You must be attempting to extract something from me - perhaps a salacious story to sell to the press, or you may have a reporter willing to pay handsomely for such information. Or, it could be that you are merely trying to bolster your own image, and I am the unfortunate individual you intend to 'utilize.' Well, let me inform you of something, my dear."

He seized the arms of her chair, pulling it forcefully towards him until their faces were mere inches apart. Satoru could hear the subtle hitch in her breath, a sign of her surprise at his sudden, assertive action. Maintaining unwavering eye contact, he leaned in closer, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You should understand," he whispered, "that I am no stranger to individuals who believe they have me all figured out. So no matter how genuine you may seem, my dear, I am not so easily cracked." With that, he reclined back in his chair, releasing his grip on her seat. "You'll have to try something else."

For a moment, she remained silent, before letting out a soft sigh and offering him a gentle smile. "Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Gojo." Her words, rather than indignant, carried a sense of empathy.

Satoru's eyes widened in surprise. He had expected her to refute his accusations, to insist that she harbored no ulterior motives. But instead, she had responded with gratitude for his candor.

He stared at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her facade of kindness to crumble. Yet, it never did. This woman, it seemed, was genuine in her compassion.

"If you feel uncomfortable in my presence, please do not hesitate to request a different therapist," she suggested, her tone measured and understanding. "I would be more than happy to make the necessary arrangements."

Satoru's expression darkened at her offer. "No," he said, his voice harsher than he had intended. He paused, taking a breath to regain his composure. "No, I want you," he stated firmly. "I'm cooperating, aren't I? If I wanted someone else, I would have requested a change long ago."

Satoru took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly at her gentle suggestion.

"You were more cooperative than before. And I appreciate that," she said, offering him a warm smile.

Satoru blinked in surprise. He had not expected such a genuine acknowledgment of his progress.

"So... what?" he asked, tilting his head as he considered her words. "You're saying you're proud of me?"

"I am. You're doing great," she hummed softly.

To both her and his own surprise, Satoru suddenly burst out laughing – a loud, unrestrained sound that filled the small space as he leaned back in his chair, clutching his stomach in an attempt to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he managed after a moment, taking a deep breath as he looked at her. "That... that just took me by surprise."

"No, please don't apologize," she quickly reassured him. "I must say, this is the most expressive I've seen you in this room." She chuckled lightly.

Satoru couldn't deny the truth in her words. His laughter finally subsiding, he smirked, crossing his arms. "Expressive? I guess if you count 'laughing like a maniac' as being expressive, I can agree."

He paused, a touch of amusement still in his tone. "I guess I'm improving, if I'm entertaining you."

"So, got something else to ask me, doc?" he inquired, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"Tell me, do you know who you are, Mr. Gojo?" she asked, her gaze steady and her tone sincere.

Satoru's features twisted into an expression of annoyance at the question. "Of course I know who I am," he retorted, the defensiveness evident in his tone. "What is this, a therapy session?"

"I'm not asking you about the position you've been forced into, and definitely not the personality made up," she said, shaking her head. "I'm asking you – do you really know who you are?"

He let out a dry laugh, the irritation seeping through. "Who I really am? What kind of question is that? Are you seriously going to ask me to define my entire existence right now? Are you expecting me to have some groundbreaking revelation or something? Because I hate to break it to you, doctor, but I'm tired of all this self-reflecting nonsense."

"Tell me the first thing that comes to mind when you think about yourself," she sighed, her patience unwavering.

Satoru tilted his head back with a sigh, closing his eyes. He was doing this not because he genuinely wanted to, but to get her off his back.

After a few moments of contemplation, he responded, "The strongest. I'm unreachable, untouchable."

"If you ask someone else the same question," she trailed off, "what's the first thing that comes to mind when they think of Gojo Satoru? They'll reply with the same thing. But is it really what you want?"

He opened his eyes, looking at her with a furrowed brow. "What I want?" he said, his voice filled with disbelief. "What I want is for you to not ask me weird questions that have no point or answer. I'm perfectly fine with being unreachable and untouchable. That's how I's always been. It's the natural order of things."

"Is strength really what defines you?" she asked. He raised a brow. "What's your point?"

"Do you know who you are?"

"Tell me, will you be Gojo Satoru without your powers?"

This question - it struck a chord within him. He remembers the day Suguru left, and the question that had remained unanswered until now. He had chosen to ignore it, but now it was haunting him once more.

Without his powers? His powers had been such a central focus in his life; he'd never truly considered his life without them. He... didn't even know who he would be. He was Gojo Satoru, the strongest of the strong. Take that away, and who was left?

He couldn't answer that. He simply remained silent, looking down at his hands, his grip tightening on his knees as he felt a sense of defensiveness.

But then, he stopped himself, his grip loosening as he looked at her, still frowning but with slightly less irritation in his expression.

"The therapy session is over," she said softly. "I want you to think about this question and try to find an answer to it."

Satoru let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, the session was finally over. Despite being overjoyed that he no longer had to continue, his expression darkened a little, his brow furrowing in thought. He knew he would be thinking about this, whether he wanted to or not. She didn't even have to ask.

He stood up from the chair and left the room without giving her a last glance. He heard her say something about how he should take care of himself.

The drive back to the Gojo Clan's compound was spent in relative silence. Ijichi kept a watchful eye on Satoru, who remained uncharacteristically quiet. His thoughts were consumed by the question posed to him during the therapy session.

As the car pulled up to the gates of the compound, Satoru suddenly spoke. "Ijichi," he said, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, "if I weren't the strongest, would I still be Gojo Satoru?"

Ijichi's gaze shifted to Satoru, surprise flickering across his features at the unexpected question.

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "Your strength is a significant aspect of who you are, but it is not the essence of your identity." He watched Satoru for a moment, noting the expression on his face. "May I ask why you're asking this, Gojo?"

"Just something that I thought about," he said dismissively.

The rest of the evening was spent in a haze of thought for Satoru, tossing and turning in bed as he wrestled with his questions, doubts, and insecurities. They swirled in his mind, keeping him from finding respite. He had never felt so uncertain, so lost before. Who was he without the mantle of the strongest? What did he even have left?

He tried to shake off these thoughts, to push them to the back of his mind, but the questions persisted, gnawing at him like a relentless ache.

Gojo's thoughts returned to the question she had asked, "Do you know who you are?" He couldn't help but scowl at the recollection. He had taken offense to the question then, but now, alone with his thoughts in the quiet of the night, he found himself truly grappling with the magnitude of that question.

Who was he? This question had never posed a challenge before. He had always known who he was - the strongest. That had been his identity for as long as he could remember.

___________________________________________

The days that followed were restless, as her questions flooded his mind at all times - while teaching, on a mission, or at home. Her question occupied his mind constantly.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. There was no point in lying here, unable to sleep. He needed air.

Satoru grabbed his jacket and threw it over his shoulders before quietly making his way out of the room, the floor creaking under his feet in the otherwise silent compound.

As he walked, the echoes of his footsteps reverberating down the hallway, he couldn't shake off the persistent questions that had been plaguing his mind all night.

He reached the entrance of the compound and stepped outside into the cool night air. The stars twinkled above him, a blanket of sparkling lights against the inky sky. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the quiet and the solitude.

But even in the silence of the night, the questions stayed with him, refusing to give him peace. He found himself facing an identity crisis that gnawed at him like never before.

Satoru walked, the snow crunching beneath every step his feet took. He walked with no destination in mind, hoping that maybe the movement and the fresh air would help clear his mind. Yet, no matter how far he walked, he couldn't escape the questions that haunted him.

Suddenly, the thought struck him - perhaps he needed guidance. But who could he turn to? His mind flitted through the people in his life - Nanamin, Ieiri, Ijichi, but ultimately he dismissed each one. They would never understand what he was going through.

But the thought persisted. He couldn't shake off the idea of her help. She had already managed to get under his skin, planting this seed of doubt that had grown into this existential crisis. Perhaps she was exactly the person he needed right now.

Satoru clenched his fists, silently cursing to himself. He had always prided himself on being in control, but now, here he was, considering seeking help from the very person who had caused his turmoil in the first place.

But it was late at night, would she even help him if he called her right now? Would she help him without getting paid, without being in that stuffy room?

As the dial tone rang through the line, anxiety began to creep into his mind. What if she didn't answer? What if she hung up once she realized it was him? He had never called her outside of their sessions before. Why would she answer now?

After what felt like an eternity, the line clicked open, breaking the silence. Satoru's heart pounded in his chest. She had actually answered.

"Hello? How may I help you?" Her voice was sleepy and confused at the late call.

Satoru hesitated for a moment, the sound of her tired, confused voice sending prickles of guilt through him. Should he really be doing this? But he had already come this far; he couldn't back down now.

"It's me," he finally said, his voice low and a little apologetic. "Gojo Satoru. I - I need help."

"Mr. Gojo?" She was suddenly wide awake, she didn't expect him of all people to call. "Of course, where are you right now?"

"I'm... I'm outside," he replied, a hint of shame in his voice. He didn't know how to explain where he was or what he was doing out so late. "I was walking. But I can't stop thinking about that question you asked me in the session that day. And it's driving me insane. I - I need answers."

"Can you be more specific? I'm on my way— ah, shit!" She cursed as she hit her foot with something she wasn't able to see in the dark, she quickly put on her jacket and her scarf and went downstairs.

Gojo heard the clatter and curse from her end of the line, making him flinch slightly. He felt oddly guilty for waking her and even making her come out at this late hour.

"Be more specific?" he repeated, his irritation seeping into his voice. "Isn't it enough that you threw my whole world off-balance? Now you need more specifics...?" But his tone softened as he mumbled, "I guess it'd be better if you were here."

"No. Where are you right now exactly?" She asked, putting her shoes on and finally going outside as it had begun snowing. She quickly got into her car.

Gojo huffed out a sigh, glancing around to get his bearings, "I'm about three miles north of Jujutsu High."

He was still outside the compound, which meant he had walked a considerable distance in his thoughts. The snowflakes were slowly falling from the sky, each one descending gently to the ground. Gojo stood there, watching them fall, waiting for her to arrive and, hopefully, provide some clarity to his chaotic thoughts.

"Okay, stay where you are. I'll be there in 10 minutes." She said as she started driving. "Tell me how you've been feeling today?"

Satoru rolled his eyes slightly as he heard her questioning. This woman just didn't know when to quit. But he was here for an answer, so he might as well satisfy her with some small talk beforehand.

"I've been feeling lost," he admitted after a moment, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "Like everything I've ever known about myself has been turned upside down." He paused, a hint of resentment in his voice. "All because of what you said during the session."

"I see. It's good that you've thought about it, Mr. Gojo," she muttered softly.

"Is it?" he snapped. "Because right now, I feel like you've thrown my whole world off-balance. And for what? Because you wanted me to 'think about it'?" Satoru let out a bitter chuckle. "You're cruel, you know that? Or perhaps you just find pleasure in messing with my mind."

"A person needs to know themselves before trying to help themselves." She said. "You don't know who you are."

"And whose fault is that?" He muttered under his breath, his frustration growing. "I had this issue before, but I had somehow gotten rid of it. But now that you've planted this seed of doubt again, all I can think about is questioning who I am. It's maddening!"

He let out a bitter chuckle again. "Are you happy now, that I'm having this crisis?"

"Thank you for sharing your feelings." She said, as if trying to comfort him.

"Don't act so sweet, like you actually care about how I feel," he snapped. He was tired, irritated, and at the end of his rope. "You have no idea what this revelation is doing to me. My whole identity was built upon being the strongest. If you take that away, what's left of me? Who am I without that identity?"

She parked near Jujutsu High, getting outside of her car. "I do know what you're feeling right now, believe it or not I was in the same state that you were in." The snow crunched beneath her shoes as she started searching for him.

Satoru scoffed slightly, disbelief clear in his voice. "You know what it's like to have your entire identity shattered like this? Please. As if you could ever understand my struggle. I've dedicated my whole life, my very existence to be the strongest."

He shook his head, his expression a mix of bitterness and desperation. "But now, all I have are questions. Why am I here? Who am I, if not the strongest? It's like a never-ending abyss of uncertainty."

Here is the expanded version of the dialogue with more descriptive language:

She strode towards him, her eyes finally landing on his familiar form. "Turn around," she instructed gently.

Satoru's brow furrowed slightly, confusion etching across his features at her sudden command. After a moment's hesitation, he slowly pivoted to face her, his expression guarded, eyes wary.

"Where's your blindfold?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

He blinked, surprised by her question. In the whirlwind of emotions, he had nearly forgotten about the blindfold when he left the compound. But what did his lack of the customary covering have to do with anything?

"I don't have it," he responded slowly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't want you to have a headache." She spoke softly, aware of his unique situation - the six eyes that made him perceive the world differently, often leading to painful migraines. Reaching up, she untied her own scarf. "Here, put this on."

Satoru stared at her, a mix of surprise and wariness evident in his gaze. He was unaccustomed to anyone showing him such genuine concern. She had already managed to see through his carefully crafted bravado and delve into the depths of his mind, and now she was extending this empathy? It was unsettling.

Still, he hesitated for a moment, torn between his reluctance and the throbbing ache pulsing at his temples. Finally, he reached out and gently took the scarf from her outstretched hand.

Satoru carefully wrapped the soft fabric around his eyes, tying it securely in place. It felt unusual, a stark contrast to his familiar blindfold, yet it offered a surprising sense of relief. The gentle pressure against his eyes was soothing, and the plush material was a comforting contrast to the chill of the night air.

He took a shallow breath, feeling a slight easing of the headache. He couldn't deny the scarf was helping, but it felt peculiar to be seen and cared for in this way.

"I want you to think about the moments in your life that didn't involve your powers," she said gently, her words a gentle nudge.

Satoru's expression darkened slightly at her prompting. His life had always revolved around his abilities, especially after discovering the rarity of his Six Eyes.

But the thought did pose an intriguing question. He had never truly considered the times when he wasn't constantly using or contemplating his powers.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice laced with a rare vulnerability. "What if there are no such moments?"

"Right now, right here. You aren't using your powers," she pointed out. "I'm sure there have been many instances in your life where your abilities weren't the primary focus - going out with your students, spending time with friends, studying, taking walks, even just everyday tasks like eating or running errands."

Satoru's frown deepened slightly as her words sank in. She was right. In that very moment, he wasn't relying on his Six Eyes to protect himself or perceive the world around him.

He couldn't deny the existence of those more mundane, seemingly insignificant moments in his life that didn't revolve around his powers. Simple joys like laughing with his students, or the solace he found in the company of his friends - times when his abilities weren't at the forefront of his mind.

"You're human, Mr. Gojo," she said, her tone gentle yet firm. "So, please, don't treat yourself as if you're not. Your power is a part of your identity, but is it really everything about you? That's the question you need to ask yourself."

Satoru's breath caught slightly as her words sank in. He had spent so many years defining himself by his power, by his role as the strongest, that it was difficult to imagine there was anything else to him.

But she was correct. His abilities were a part of him, but they did not encompass his entire existence. He was more than just his powers. He was a jujutsu sorcerer, a teacher, a friend, a human with emotions and a complex inner world.

"Now let me ask you again," she trailed off. "Do you know who you are, Mr. Gojo?"

Satoru exhaled slowly, feeling a sense of clarity wash over him. He understood now what she was trying to convey. His identity was not solely tied to his powers. There was so much more to him than that.

He lifted his head, the scarf over his eyes lifting slightly. His voice was quiet but sure.

"I am Satoru Gojo. Jujutsu sorcerer. Teacher. Friend. Human. And so much more."

"Exactly." She chuckled. "I'm proud of you."

Satoru felt a flicker of something unfamiliar stir within him at her words. He had never heard someone express pride in him, at least not on an emotional level. Usually, it was about his prowess or his accomplishments in battle.

He gave a small snort, trying to downplay how her praise affected him. "You make me sound like a child, Miss Therapist," he muttered, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh..sorry, I didn't mean to come across that way," She quickly apologized.

Satoru waved her apology away with a dismissive hand gesture. "No, no. I wasn't offended or anything like that," he reassured her. "It's just..a little surprising, that's all."

He gave a small laugh, shaking his head slightly. "People usually praise me for being the strongest, not for being...human. But it's not a bad feeling, to know that someone is proud of me as a person. So thank you."

"No. Thank you for being truthful with me, Mr. Gojo," She hummed softly.

A small chuckle escaped Gojo's lips, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You know, I'm not sure why you're thanking me for doing the bare minimum," he teased. "Being truthful should be expected, shouldn't it?"

"I'm thanking you because I know how difficult it is to be truthful about yourself with someone and to be truthful with yourself," She chuckled.

Satoru's smile widened slightly. Her words carried a sincerity that resonated deeply within him.

"You're right," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not easy. In fact, it's damn near impossible sometimes." He took a deep breath, letting out a small sigh.

"Being honest with yourself, and with others...it requires a certain level of vulnerability and courage, and frankly, I'm not always very good at it."

Here is the response with more detailed and descriptive wording:

"That's perfectly understandable, you are only human and thus not impervious to imperfections. We all have our flaws, fears, and moments of fallibility at times. But that is what makes us distinctly human, what sets us apart from the animal kingdom. We have the capacity to learn and grow from our mistakes, to confront and overcome our fears, and to refine our shortcomings. " She spoke softly, her voice tinged with a gentle empathy. "You should never forget that you are just as human as anyone else—" Her words were suddenly interrupted by a delicate sneeze.

Satoru flinched slightly as the unexpected sound pierced the crisp, cold night air. On some level, he was somewhat relieved that her soothing words had been cut short, as they had started to hit a little too close to home for his comfort.

"Bless you," he murmured, his tone a curious blend of playful teasing and genuine concern. "It seems the frigid weather has gotten the better of you."

"Sorry about that...I'm just not terribly well-suited for cold climates," she admitted, rubbing her hands together in a futile attempt to generate warmth.

Satoru couldn't resist the temptation of a mischievous smirk. Here he had been feeling vulnerable and exposed, and now the tables had turned, with her appearing to be the one struggling against the biting chill.

"That's not something one usually hears from someone who was living in the northern regions," he teased, unable to resist the opportunity to poke a bit of fun. "I thought the hardy folk up there were practically immune to the cold."

"Well, you see, I wasn't actually born and raised in these parts, i just lived some years there." she chuckled.

"Ah, I see," satoru nodded, a playful glint sparkling in his eyes. "So you're not a true northerner. That certainly explains a lot."

He paused for a moment, a mischievous thought crossing his mind. "But you'll never truly adapt if you don't embrace the cold," he declared dramatically. "And what better way to do that than by engaging in a good old-fashioned snowball fight?"

Without warning, she hurled a tightly packed snowball directly at him, the frozen projectile striking him with surprising force.

"You should be more careful!" She laughed as she scurried away.

Satoru was momentarily caught off-guard by her sudden attack. He blinked, stunned for a moment, before a wide grin spread across his face.

"Oh, it's on now," he declared, his eyes twinkling with competitive delight.

He swiftly leaned down, scooping up a handful of snow and shaping it into a compact, aerodynamic ball, before launching it towards her with remarkable precision.

"Agh!" She groaned as the snowball hit its mark, but her laughter quickly followed. "Cheater!"

Satoru chuckled, not holding back a hint of smug satisfaction. "Cheat? Perish the thought, my dear," he declared, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. "I'm merely making use of my natural talents."

He quickly formed another snowball, his movements quick and elegant, and with a flick of his wrist, he released it, aiming straight for her. "I am, after all, the reigning champion of snowball warfare," he boasted.

"Hey! Go easy on me!" She laughed again, retaliating with a well-aimed snowball of her own.

"Easy? What is this, a snowball fight for beginners?" Satoru teased, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He dodged her projectile with effortless grace, his steps light and fleeting like a shadow.

He swiftly countered with his own snowball, a perfect shot that struck its target, causing her to stumble slightly. "Come on, you can do better than that," he taunted, reveling in the adrenaline of their playful conflict.

"No fair!" She whined as she threw another snowball, this time finally hitting him squarely. "Ha!"

Satoru let out a theatrical groan, pretending to be wounded by her snowball. "Oh, the agony," he clutched at his heart dramatically, a grin betraying his amusement. "I've been hit! What a catastrophic defeat this is."

Not one to be outdone, he swiftly retaliated, launching a flurry of snowballs in her direction with deadly accuracy. "You can't stop the king of snowballs!"

She deftly dodged his barrage of snowballs, her movements agile and nimble. "The rightful queen of snowballs will reclaim her throne!" She chuckled as she threw another well-aimed projectile.

Satoru raised an eyebrow at her declaration, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Oh, is that so? The rightful queen of snowballs, you claim to be?"

He evaded her snowball easily, his laughter echoing through the night. "Well, let's see how rightful you truly are!" He retaliated with a series of perfectly aimed snowballs, each one a testament to his skill and precision.

Some snowballs found their mark, but she quickly retreated behind the shelter of a nearby tree, emerging to launch her own volley of icy projectiles in his direction. "You're cheating!" She accused playfully.

Satoru laughed heartily, his eyes glinting with a competitive spark. "Cheating? Or simply better at this than you?" he teased.

He ducked, weaved, and dodged her snowballs with a casual ease that made it appear as though he were dancing rather than engaging in a fierce snowball battle. "Admit it, darling. I'm just naturally gifted at the art of snowy warfare!"

"Nuh uh!" She laughed, her voice filled with playful defiance as the relentless snowball fight continued.

As the intense battle of wits and wintry wonders wore on, their laughter filled the night air, echoing through the trees. Satoru's competitive spirit was fully ignited, and he wasn't holding back. His movements were swift and precise, each snowball hitting its mark with remarkable accuracy.

"Admit it, admit it!" he called out, his voice teeming with playful taunting. "You can't defeat the Snowball King!"

"The queen will reclaim her rightful place!" She said playfully as she suddenly ran up to him and tackled him, sending them both tumbling into the soft, powdery snow. "The king has fallen!" She laughed triumphantly.

Satoru's eyes widened in surprise as he felt himself falling, his balance thrown off by her unexpected attack. He landed on his back with a thump, sinking slightly into the snow, a look of mock indignation on his face.

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be, queen?" he chuckled, his tone filled with playful defiance. "You really think you can take down the king with a sneak attack like that?"

"Yeah!" She laughed as she straddled him, triumphantly launching a handful of snow directly into his face. "Payback!"

Satoru sputtered and spluttered as the cold, powdery snow landed on his face, momentarily obscuring his vision. But the unexpected sensation of her sitting atop him, coupled with the icy touch of the snow, sent a shiver of exhilaration down his spine.

He blinked, his eyes glinting with a mischievous sparkle as he grinned up at her. "Oh, you think that's payback? That won't do. I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

And in a sudden, swift motion, he flipped them over, now pinning her down to the snow, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face. He took a handful of the icy powder and gently placed it in her mouth before she could react. "How does snow taste, my queen?"

She quickly spat out the snow, coughing and sputtering, but he merely laughed in response as he collapsed down beside her, both of them lying in the snow, their breathing heavy from the exertion of their playful battle.

After a moment of catching their breath, satoru turned his head towards her, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, a result of the cold. He couldn't help but find her endearing in that moment.

"I would like to know more about you, miss therapist," Satoru murmured, his curiosity piqued. She was silent for a moment, contemplating his request. "What would you like to know?"

"I don't know... perhaps you could start by telling me why you decided to quit being a sorcerer?" Satoru's expression sobered slightly.

She paused for a moment before speaking. "I was previously involved in a perilous mission and perished back then, but I still clung desperately to life. So I made a binding vow, offering my cursed technique in exchange for the preservation of my life, I suppose." She shrugged, as if the matter was trivial. "I'm sorry to hear about your experience," I responded sympathetically.

"It's alright, the practice of sorcery simply was not meant for me. Instead, I have decided to become a therapist, helping people who are part of the jujutsu community, as I understand the daily realities they face as sorcerers."

He hummed thoughtfully as he looked back up at the sky. "That explains why I have never heard of you before," he mused. "Do you have any surviving family members?" he inquired.

"They have all passed away," she replied solemnly.

"I see," he said quietly.

"I apologize for-" he began.

"No need to apologize," she assured him. "I understand your curiosity."

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