#U Panel bags

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Continuation of this

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Customizing U Panel Bulk Bags: Tailoring Solutions for Your Industry

U panel bulk bags, also known as U panel FIBC bags, have become an essential packaging solution across multiple industries. The versatility and durability of these bags make them the preferred choice for transporting bulk materials. With the ability to customize the U panel bag to specific industrial needs, companies can optimize their logistics and storage operations. In this article, we will explore the advantages of U panel bulk bags, their customization options, and how a reliable U panel bulk bag manufacturer can help businesses find the perfect solution for their requirements.

Understanding U Panel Bulk Bags

A U panel bulk bag is designed with three panels of fabric that are sewn together, creating a "U" shape. This construction provides the bag with its characteristic strength and shape retention, allowing it to hold large quantities of bulk material without sagging or tearing. The design ensures even distribution of weight, making it ideal for industries dealing with heavy or dense materials.

For industries like agriculture, mining, chemicals, and construction, the U panel FIBC bag is indispensable due to its ability to safely store and transport powders, granules, or coarse materials. However, what sets U panel bulk bags apart from other flexible intermediate bulk containers (FIBCs) is their high degree of customizability. Depending on the industry, manufacturers can tailor these bags to meet specific requirements, enhancing both efficiency and safety.

Why Customization Matters in U Panel Bulk Bags

When selecting packaging solutions, one size does not fit all. Customizing U panel bulk bags ensures that a business’s unique demands are met, whether it’s handling hazardous materials, optimizing storage space, or enhancing the ease of transport. A quality U panel bulk bag manufacturer will offer various customization options that cater to the specific needs of different industries. These can include:

Size Adjustments: U panel bags come in various sizes to accommodate the storage or transportation of different material volumes. Customizing the size allows businesses to optimize space in warehouses or during shipping.

Weight Capacity: Depending on the material, the weight capacity of the bag can be adjusted. Industries dealing with heavy materials can opt for reinforced U panel FIBC bags that ensure the bags remain stable and do not tear under pressure.

Filling and Discharge Options: U panel bulk bags can be customized with different filling and discharge mechanisms, such as spouts, duffel tops, or open tops, and discharge options such as flat bottoms or spout bottoms, making the process of loading and unloading materials more efficient.

Lifting Loops: Custom lifting loops can be designed to allow for easy handling of the U panel bags with forklifts or cranes, essential for industries requiring quick and secure transportation of bulk goods.

Liners: For industries dealing with moisture-sensitive materials or hazardous chemicals, a U panel bag can be customized with internal liners. These liners provide an additional barrier that protects the contents from contamination, moisture, or leaks.

Industries Benefiting from U Panel FIBC Bags

Many industries rely on U panel FIBC bags for their day-to-day operations. Some of the industries that benefit the most from these customized bags include:

Agriculture: Farmers and agricultural suppliers use U panel bulk bags to store and transport grains, seeds, and fertilizers. Customization options like UV-resistant fabric, breathable materials, or added liners help preserve the quality of agricultural products and ensure that they arrive at their destination in optimal condition.

Mining: The mining industry frequently transports heavy materials like ores, minerals, and rocks, requiring bulk bags that can withstand considerable weight. Customized U panel bag with reinforced seams and durable lifting loops ensure that these materials are moved safely.

Construction: Construction sites need bulk bags for storing and moving sand, gravel, cement, and other building materials. U panel FIBC bags provide a reliable solution, especially when customized for heavy-duty usage.

Chemicals and Pharmaceuticals: For industries handling sensitive chemicals or pharmaceutical ingredients, U panel bulk bags can be customized with liners and anti-static materials to prevent contamination, ensure product safety, and maintain compliance with safety regulations.

Food Industry: U panel bags used in the food industry can be tailored to meet strict hygiene standards, ensuring that food-grade materials like flour, sugar, and starch are kept safe during transport. These bags can be customized with food-safe coatings, ensuring the safety and quality of the contents.

U Panel FIBC Bags in India: Meeting Global Standards

India is emerging as a significant player in the global U panel bulk bag market, with numerous manufacturers offering high-quality, customized solutions. The U panel FIBC bag in India is manufactured in compliance with international standards, ensuring that businesses across the world receive bags that meet their specific needs.

Indian manufacturers have honed their production processes, focusing on quality control, sustainability, and customization. Many U panel bulk bag manufacturers in India offer eco-friendly options, including bags made from recycled materials or those designed to be reused multiple times, reducing the environmental impact of bulk packaging.

Indian manufacturers also offer competitive pricing, making them a cost-effective choice for companies looking to import customized bulk bags. Whether a business needs UV-resistant bags for agriculture, chemical-resistant liners for hazardous materials, or extra-strong lifting loops for construction, Indian manufacturers provide a wide range of options to meet the demands of different sectors.

The Role of a Reliable U Panel Bag Manufacturer

Choosing the right U panel bulk bag manufacturer is crucial for businesses looking to tailor packaging solutions to their specific requirements. A reputable manufacturer will offer more than just a standard bag; they will provide guidance on the best customization options for the industry. Key factors to consider when selecting a U panel bag manufacturer include:

Experience and Expertise: A manufacturer with extensive experience in producing U panel FIBC bags for various industries will understand the unique challenges of each sector. They will be able to recommend the most suitable materials, designs, and custom features.

Quality Control: Look for manufacturers that prioritize quality control, ensuring that every bag meets strict safety and durability standards. This is especially important for industries dealing with hazardous materials or food products, where contamination risks are high.

Customization Options: The best manufacturers will offer a wide range of customization options, from bag size and weight capacity to specialized liners and lifting loops, ensuring that each bag meets the client’s specific needs.

Sustainability: As environmental concerns become increasingly important, manufacturers that offer sustainable solutions, such as biodegradable materials or reusable U panel bags, will be the preferred choice for businesses looking to reduce their carbon footprint.

Conclusion

Customizing U panel bulk bags allows businesses to find solutions that fit their unique requirements, enhancing the efficiency of their operations. Whether you need a U panel FIBC bag in India or anywhere else in the world, a reputable U panel bulk bag manufacturer will help you design the perfect packaging solution. With a range of customization options available, businesses can ensure they are using the most suitable bulk bags to transport and store their materials, while also benefiting from durability, cost-efficiency, and safety.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

How is a U Panel Bulk Bag different from other bulk bags? The U Panel design provides greater stability and strength, making it ideal for handling heavier loads compared to some other FIBC designs.

Can U Panel Bulk Bags be customized? Yes, U Panel Bulk Bags can be fully customized in terms of size, fabric type, liners, spouts, and printing to meet the specific needs of various industries.

Which industries use U Panel Bulk Bags? U Panel Bulk Bags are used in a wide range of industries, including agriculture, construction, mining, chemicals, and pharmaceuticals, due to their durability and flexibility.

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Choosing the Right U Panel Bulk Bag for Your Needs

U Panel Bulk Bag Manufacturer: A Comprehensive Guide to Flexible Packaging Solutions

In the world of industrial packaging, bulk bags, also known as FIBC (Flexible Intermediate Bulk Containers), play a vital role in transporting and storing various materials, from grains to chemicals. Among the different types of bulk bags, U panel bulk bags stand out due to their unique design and structural advantages. As industries increasingly seek efficient and reliable packaging solutions, the demand for U panel bulk bag manufacturer continues to rise. This blog will explore the features, applications, benefits, and considerations for selecting a U panel bulk bag manufacturer.

What Are U Panel Bulk Bags?

U panel bulk bags are designed using a single piece of fabric that is sewn to form two vertical sides, creating a “U” shape when viewed from the front. This design enhances the bag's strength and stability, making it ideal for handling and transporting bulk materials. The U panel structure allows for better load distribution, which can accommodate heavier weights without compromising the integrity of the bag.

Features of U Panel Bulk Bags

U panel bulk bags come with various features that make them suitable for a wide range of applications:

Durability: Made from high-quality woven polypropylene or other strong materials, U panel bulk bags are designed to withstand rigorous handling and transportation conditions. Their robust construction ensures they can carry heavy loads without tearing or breaking.

Variety of Sizes: U panel bulk bags are available in various sizes and capacities, ranging from 500 kg to 2000 kg or more, catering to the specific needs of different industries.

Customizable Designs: Many manufacturers offer customizable options, allowing businesses to choose specific dimensions, colors, and printing to suit branding or identification needs.

Loading and Unloading Options: U panel bulk bags can be designed with different types of filling and discharge options, including spouts, skirts, or open tops, making them versatile for various handling methods.

Reusability and Sustainability: These bags are often reusable and can be designed for recycling, contributing to sustainability efforts within the packaging industry.

Applications of U Panel Bulk Bags

U panel bulk bags are widely used across multiple industries due to their versatility and strength. Common applications include:

Agriculture: In the agricultural sector, U panel bulk bags are used for storing and transporting grains, seeds, fertilizers, and other bulk agricultural products.

Construction: The construction industry utilizes these bags for handling sand, gravel, cement, and other building materials, thanks to their durability and capacity.

Chemicals: U panel bulk bags are often used to transport and store chemicals, resins, and powders, as they can be designed to meet safety standards and regulations.

Food Industry: These bags are also suitable for bulk food products, such as sugar, flour, and grains, as they can be manufactured with food-safe materials.

Pharmaceuticals: U panel bulk bags are used in the pharmaceutical industry for transporting bulk ingredients and raw materials, ensuring safety and compliance with industry regulations.

Benefits of U Panel Bulk Bags

Choosing U panel bulk bags for packaging and transportation offers several advantages:

Cost-Effective: U panel bulk bags are a cost-effective solution for transporting large volumes of materials, reducing packaging costs compared to smaller bags or rigid containers.

Space-Efficient: When empty, U panel bulk bags can be folded flat, saving valuable storage space during transportation and storage.

Enhanced Stability: The U panel design provides enhanced stability and load distribution, reducing the risk of spillage or damage during handling.

Ease of Handling: With features like lifting loops, U panel bulk bags are easy to handle, allowing for efficient loading and unloading processes.

Custom Branding Opportunities: Businesses can print logos or product information on U panel bulk bags, promoting brand visibility and recognition.

Selecting the Right U Panel Bulk Bag Manufacturer

When choosing a U panel bulk bag manufacturer, consider the following factors:

Experience and Reputation: Look for manufacturers with a proven track record in producing high-quality bulk bags. A reputable manufacturer will have positive reviews and testimonials from satisfied customers.

Quality Assurance: Ensure the manufacturer follows strict quality control measures, including testing the strength, durability, and safety of their bags.

Customization Options: Choose a manufacturer that offers customizable solutions to meet your specific requirements, including sizes, materials, and printing options.

Sustainability Practices: As sustainability becomes more important, consider manufacturers that prioritize eco-friendly materials and practices, contributing to a greener supply chain.

Customer Support: A reliable manufacturer should provide excellent customer service, assisting you throughout the purchasing process, from inquiries to after-sales support.

Certifications and Compliance: Check for relevant certifications that ensure the manufacturer adheres to industry standards and regulations, especially for specific applications like food and pharmaceuticals.

U Panel Bag: Versatile Solutions for Bulk Packaging

U panel bags, also known as U panel bulk bags, are a popular choice for transporting and storing bulk materials. Designed with a single piece of fabric that forms a "U" shape, these bags offer enhanced stability and load distribution, making them ideal for heavy-duty applications. Constructed from durable woven polypropylene, U panel bag are suitable for various industries, including agriculture, construction, and chemicals. Their customizable sizes and features, such as filling spouts and lifting loops, make them versatile for different handling methods. With excellent durability and space efficiency, U panel bags are an effective solution for bulk packaging needs.

U Panel FIBC Bag: The Ultimate Choice for Bulk Packaging

U panel FIBC bag, or Flexible Intermediate Bulk Containers, are essential for transporting and storing bulk materials efficiently. Characterized by their unique U-shaped design, these bags provide superior strength and stability, making them ideal for heavy loads. Made from high-quality woven polypropylene, U panel FIBC bags are durable, reusable, and suitable for various industries, including agriculture, construction, and chemicals. Their customizable features, such as filling spouts and lifting loops, enhance handling efficiency. With excellent load distribution and space-saving capabilities, U panel FIBC bags are a reliable and versatile solution for all bulk packaging requirements.

Conclusion

U panel bulk bags are a versatile and efficient packaging solution that meets the needs of various industries. Their durability, customizable features, and ease of handling make them an ideal choice for transporting bulk materials. As demand for these bags continues to rise, partnering with a reputable U panel bulk bag manufacturer is essential for ensuring you receive high-quality products that meet your specific requirements. By considering factors such as experience, quality assurance, customization options, and sustainability practices, businesses can find the right manufacturer to enhance their packaging solutions and optimize their operations.

FAQs 

1. What are U panel FIBC bags made of?

U panel FIBC bags are typically made from woven polypropylene, a durable and strong material that can withstand heavy loads and harsh handling conditions. This material is resistant to moisture, chemicals, and UV rays, making it suitable for various applications.

2. What are the advantages of using U panel FIBC bags?

U panel FIBC bags offer several advantages, including enhanced stability and load distribution due to their unique design, excellent durability for transporting bulk materials, customizable sizes and features, and space-saving capabilities when empty. They are also reusable and environmentally friendly.

3. In which industries are U panel FIBC bags commonly used?

U panel FIBC bags are widely used in industries such as agriculture for grains and fertilizers, construction for sand and gravel, chemicals for powders and resins, and food for bulk ingredients. Their versatility makes them suitable for various bulk packaging needs.

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The Cost Benefits of Using U Panel Bulk Bags in Your Projects

Introduction to U Panel Bulk Bags

U panel bulk bags, also known as U panel FIBC full form is Flexible Intermediate Bulk Container bags, are widely used in various industries for their efficiency and cost-effectiveness. These bags are designed with a distinctive U-shaped panel construction that offers several advantages over other bulk bag designs. Understanding the cost benefits associated with U panel bulk bags can help businesses make informed decisions about their packaging solutions. This article explores how these bags can contribute to cost savings and operational efficiency, with a focus on the roles of U panel bulk bag manufacturers and bulk bag suppliers in providing these benefits.

What is an FIBC and the Significance of U Panel Design

FIBC stands for Flexible Intermediate Bulk Container, which refers to a type of bulk bag designed to handle and transport large quantities of materials. The U panel design is characterized by a single U-shaped panel that runs the full height of the bag, with the sides being constructed from one continuous piece of fabric. This design contrasts with other bulk bag styles, such as 4-panel and 6-panel bags, where multiple panels are stitched together.

The U panel design offers several advantages, including reduced sewing requirements and improved durability. The fewer seams mean less risk of seam failure and a more uniform strength distribution across the bag, making it a preferred choice for many applications.

Enhanced Durability and Reduced Downtime

One of the primary cost benefits of using U panel bulk bags is their enhanced durability. The U panel design minimizes the number of seams, which are often points of weakness in bulk bags. By reducing the number of seams, U panel bulk bags are less prone to splitting and tearing, which can lead to material loss and downtime.

Less frequent bag failures translate to reduced operational interruptions and lower costs associated with replacing damaged bags. This increased durability ensures that your project runs smoothly, with fewer disruptions due to bag-related issues. For industries that rely on consistent material handling, such as construction or agriculture, this reliability is crucial.

Cost-Effective Manufacturing and Material Usage

U panel bulk bags often require less material to manufacture compared to 4-panel or 6-panel bags. The continuous panel design means fewer fabric joints, which can reduce both the material and labor costs associated with production. Additionally, the streamlined design can lead to more efficient use of fabric, minimizing waste and lowering overall production costs.

For businesses looking to optimize their packaging expenses, working with U panel bulk bag manufacturers can offer significant cost savings. By choosing a bag design that uses fewer materials and requires less labor to produce, you can achieve a more economical packaging solution.

Improved Load Stability and Handling Efficiency

The U panel design contributes to better load stability compared to other bulk bag types. The continuous panel structure provides a more uniform distribution of stress and strain, which helps to maintain the bag’s shape and stability during handling and transportation. This improved stability reduces the risk of material shifting or spilling, which can be a major concern in bulk handling.

Furthermore, U panel bulk bags often have a more consistent and predictable shape, making them easier to handle with machinery and equipment. This ease of handling can reduce labor costs and improve efficiency in loading and unloading operations. For projects that involve large volumes of material, the enhanced stability and handling efficiency provided by U panel bulk bags can lead to significant cost savings.

Reduced Freight Costs and Storage Efficiency

Another cost benefit of U panel bulk bags is their impact on freight and storage costs. The U panel design allows for more efficient packing and stacking of the bags, which can reduce the amount of space required for storage and transportation. The bags can be more tightly packed in shipping containers or storage areas, optimizing the use of available space and reducing transportation costs.

Additionally, the reduced need for excess packaging materials further contributes to cost savings. By minimizing the volume and weight of the packaging, businesses can achieve more cost-effective shipping and storage solutions. This efficiency is especially beneficial for large-scale projects that involve significant quantities of bulk materials.

Customizability and Versatility

U panel bulk bags offer a high degree of customizability, which can enhance their cost-effectiveness. These bags can be tailored to meet specific requirements, such as size, capacity, and fabric type. Custom features, such as liners, closures, and lifting options, can be incorporated to suit the needs of different applications.

The versatility of U panel bulk bags allows them to be used for a wide range of materials, from powders and granules to aggregates and chemicals. This adaptability means that businesses can use the same type of bulk bag for multiple projects, reducing the need for different types of packaging and simplifying inventory management.

Choosing the Right U Panel Bulk Bag Manufacturer

Selecting the right U panel bulk bag manufacturers is essential for maximizing the cost benefits of these bags. Reputable manufacturers can provide high-quality bags that meet industry standards and offer the best performance for your specific needs. When choosing a manufacturer, consider factors such as their experience, production capabilities, and quality control measures.

A reliable manufacturer will also be able to offer guidance on selecting the most suitable U panel bulk bags for your application, ensuring that you receive a product that delivers the best value and performance. Additionally, working with a manufacturer that provides strong customer support and competitive pricing can further enhance the cost benefits of using U panel bulk bags.

Role of Bulk Bag Suppliers

Bulk bag suppliers play a crucial role in the distribution and availability of U panel bulk bags. They act as intermediaries between manufacturers and end-users, ensuring that the right products are delivered to meet the needs of various projects. Suppliers can offer valuable insights into the different types of bulk bags available and help you select the most cost-effective option for your requirements.

When choosing a bulk bag supplier, consider factors such as their inventory levels, delivery options, and customer service. A good supplier will be able to provide prompt and reliable service, helping you to manage your packaging needs efficiently and cost-effectively.

Conclusion

U panel bulk bags offer numerous cost benefits that make them an attractive choice for various projects. Their enhanced durability, reduced manufacturing costs, improved load stability, and efficient use of space contribute to significant savings and operational efficiency. By partnering with reputable U panel bulk bag manufacturers and reliable bulk bag suppliers, businesses can further maximize the advantages of these versatile packaging solutions.

As industries continue to seek ways to optimize their packaging and handling processes, U panel bulk bags stand out as a cost-effective and reliable option. Their ability to deliver high performance while reducing overall costs makes them a valuable investment for any project that involves bulk material handling.

FAQs About U Panel Bulk Bags

1. What is a U panel bulk bag?

A U panel bulk bag, also known as a U panel FIBC (Flexible Intermediate Bulk Container), is a type of bulk bag made from a single U-shaped panel of fabric that runs from the top to the bottom of the bag. This design differs from other bulk bag styles, which may have multiple panels stitched together. The U panel structure reduces the number of seams, enhancing the bag's durability and strength.

2. What are the benefits of using U panel bulk bags?

U panel bulk bags offer several benefits, including:

Enhanced Durability: Fewer seams reduce the risk of bag failure.

Cost-Effectiveness: Reduced material usage and manufacturing costs.

Improved Load Stability: Better stress distribution and shape retention.

Efficient Handling: Easier to handle and stack, improving logistics.

Space Optimization: More efficient packing and storage, leading to lower freight costs.

3. What is the FIBC full form, and how does it relate to U panel bulk bags?

FIBC stands for Flexible Intermediate Bulk Container. It refers to a type of bulk bag designed to transport and store large quantities of materials. U panel bulk bags are a specific type of FIBC characterized by their U-shaped panel construction, which provides enhanced durability and load stability compared to other FIBC designs.

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FIBC U Panel Bags - Silvassa Woven Sacks Private Limited

Looking for FIBC U Panel Bags manufacturer, exporters & suppliers? Woven International offers high-quality U Panel Bags for bulky goods and transportations.

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Hot Ghouls in Your Area

Chapter 1

“A cult?” Jason blew out a bubble and enjoyed the disgusted face that Bruce made.

“Yes.” His voice was tight. Jason could tell that he wanted to turn back to the Batcomputer. “They’re operating in Park Row-”

“Crime Alley.”

Batman sighed and accepted the correction. “I would like to propose a joint operation.” He sounded so tired and not very optimistic.

Jason eyed up his on-again-off-again Father figure and popped his gum, thinking it over. Bruce clearly expected him to say no, fuck off, and take the information himself.

He could. There was nothing wrong with that.

“Sure, old man.” He clapped Bruce on the shoulder and finished screwing together the tool he’d brought in for maintenance. He’d had to fabricate a new part and the Red Hood didn’t exactly have the equipment for that in his two room apartment. “Thursday night alright?”

“They’ve a planned meeting on Wednesday, actually,” Bruce said, frowning slightly at him but looking soft around the eyes with confused hope. “Would that be possible? They seem to gather mid-week.”

Jason let out a sigh. “I can make it work. Ta, old man.” He made sure to toss off an especially insouciant salute as he sauntered away. Sure, he was willing to put a little effort into maintaining their relationship, but he couldn’t be too compliant. If you gave Bruce an hour of your time, he wrote you down on the schedule for an hour every day until one of you fuckin’ died in a warehouse explosion. Something like that.

He wasn’t that trusting, though. Jason took the information that Bruce emailed him and did his own legwork. He wasn’t stubborn enough to bother redoing digital work that Bruce had done or gotten from Babs. That would be a waste of his time, and he valued his time. But he scoped out the cult’s meeting place.

Of all the undignified things, it was a rented room in the community center. Jason found himself sheepishly breaking into the office to check on the reservation and poking around the room itself.

There was nothing special about it. It was a shitty room with shitty paneled walls and cheap, well-trodden grey carpet. It boasted a few too many tables, arranged in a U shape, and a whiteboard pushed up against the wall that hadn’t been cleaned off well enough to erase what he was pretty sure was a reference to their lord and savior, destroyed of worlds.

So. That was a point for Bruce’s cult thing.

He hadn’t really doubted it, if he was honest, given that this had originated in a tip from Zatanna. She had told him as a courtesy that some creep had moved their base of recruiting and operations into Gotham.

Apparently, recruitment was going pretty well. The room could seat like, twenty? Jason counted chairs and left.

He came back on Wednesday at 8pm with the Batman and an attempt at a good attitude. He probably wasn’t going to need any of the weapons on his person. They were going to check in so that this guy knew they had an eye on him and that he would be suspect number one if there was any hint of people or cats being sacrificed.

Bruce fucked off to peer in the windows, like the giant caped creep he was. Jason took the front door, nodded congenially at the old man in the office, and knocked at the room the cultists had reserved.

He could hear Bruce internally curse through the comm. It was silent, of course, but the quality of the silence changed. “Knock knock,” he called, since a literal knock hadn’t done it. He opened the door without waiting. “Just checking in, heard you’re new to town and that you tried to feed Zatanna’s shitty little cousin to the god of Death?”

The room stared at him. A whiteboard marker squeaked to a stop. He idly followed the sound to the board. A …. Huh. that looked like some kind of mystical bullshit.

“You’ve been touched by death,” said the fraud himself, a man in his fifties with a wildly pretentious robe that was wrinkled from the paper bag he’d clearly used to carry it in. He outstretched the hand that didn’t have a blue whiteboard marker in it. “You would be a perfect sacrifice to our Lord.”

“So will it be,” said about half the people there, at the same time a young woman said, “No shit?” in an impressed tone.

Jason rolled his eyes through the helmet, unintimidated by the room of weirdos standing up. The kind of people who gathered at a community center on a Wednesday night were not going to summon the God of Death. Light glinted off the window where Batman was clearly weighing the possibility of breaking glass and swinging in. Jason silently waved him off with a headshake. They weren’t to the point of property damage yet. He took a couple of steps into the room with deliberate swagger. “What a lucky guess,” he drawled. “The Red Hood has had brushes with death? No one but a legitimate prophet could possibly make such a statement.”

“I’m not a prophet,” said the man, and turned back to his white board. “I’m a devote.” He rubbed out a line with the meat of his hand and then hurriedly wrote in ‘The Red Hood’ in a tilted cursive. “The sacrifice!” he shouted, throwing his arms wide and accidentally making a big blue line through his evil little sigil or whatever it was. The elderly lady to Jason’s right opened up her bag, thrust her hand in, and came up with a fistful of -

“Salt?” Jason asked, confused and unimpressed as the silly twit threw her handful of salt at him. “Thanks, I’m better seasoned now,” he snarked. He pulled out a gun easily. “Alright, let’s get serious. I-”

The whiteboard was glowing. The blue letters were glowing green.

“What the fuck?” Jason said. The windows exploded with broken glass as Batman decided now was the time to make his entrance. He barely got to see it before something hooked unpleasantly on his body and soul and twisted it sideways.

The world was green now. Holy shit. Jason spun a circle on uneven ground and gaped. “...Egg on my face,” he said. “I’ve been sacrificed. Consider me embarrassed.” A quick check showed that his comm was useless. It was giving off a steady little eeee of static that kinda sounded like screams. Whimsical. Jason turned it off.

He wasn’t panicking yet. The void wasn’t that freaky. It was weird, sure, but there weren’t any demons or enemies. He flicked the safety off his favorite gun just in case and frowned into the darkness.

It was like he was standing under a spotlight with no light source. There was ambient lighting in all directions, but the world faded into darkness only a few dozen feet away. He took some experimental steps to determine that, yeah, the field of visibility traveled with him.

Well. Time to get moving. Jason walked. There was nothing for the first - hour, he was gonna call it an hour. He got antsy and started jogging. The green stretched on, placid and infinite in a way that was really starting to piss him off. “Hey!” Jason barked into the void. “Anyone there?”

There was an answering electronic whirr. He stopped in his tracks. Jason looked in every direction, including up, and only saw the fucking thing when it was basically on top of him.

The vehicle was probably most equivalent to a spaceship, he decided, as what was probably a 3-man craft at most parked. The top clicked. It opened from the top and someone bounded out. “Hey!” came an annoyed male voice. “What’s the deal, bud?” The stranger landed in front of Jason with crossed arms and a pissy expression. His white hair floated above his head as if he was the little fucking mermaid in the ocean.

Jason scowled, the back of his mind cataloging the other guy’s outfit as pristine and undamaged and his musculature as athletic. “What’s it to you?” he asked, defensive. He didn’t know if it was safe to give information to this guy. “I might be a little lost,” Jason conceded.

“A little lost,” the guy repeated, and then- okay, he flew in a weird little flippy circle, scowling all the while as Jason gaped. “A little lost.” He scoffed. Then he let out a sigh that made his whole body look smaller. He uncrossed his arms and ran a hand through his hair. “This is a weird question,” he said, making it sound more defensive than apologetic. “Did you uh.” He scowled, like the words were distasteful. “Look,” he tried again. “Are you delulu, or did you get caught up as the sacrificial bride? I told Frank to knock that shit off.”

Sacrificial bride. Jason felt his brain go offline for a moment. Say what now.

“Helloooo,” the… was this rando a god of death? He was impatient. He flew way up into Jason’s personal space and snapped his fingers. “Someone just smashed metal trash bins together at my grave to get my attention, basically. No, it’s more like one of those spam pop ups that says there’s hot girls in your area?” He made a gesture at Jason. “Only it’s loud. It’s ringing in my ears, and I had to come track you down. Do you think this is funny?”

“...Sacrificial bride?” Jason finally managed to croak out.

Weirdly, this made the other guy relax immediately. “Just found out, huh,” he said, sounding much more sympathetic. “Yeah, okay, we need to sort out a spiritual divorce immediately. And then you can go home and there will be no more hot girls in my area and I can get back to my ess- my work.”

Jason took a few moments of grief and confusion to accept his apparent status. “We’re married?” he said weakly.

The white haired man looked a little sheepish. “Marriage is probably not quite accurate,” he said, and Jason felt a little bit of relief before the guy continued, “It’s more like you’re my concubine?” He sounded mortified by this. “I didn’t want this!”

“No, no,” Jason said, meaning both that he believed it and that he needed this conversation to change directions immediately. “I- who are you?” He gestured at his– what the fuck was the other side of a concubine relationship? King was the associated word that came up, but that…

“I’m nobody, really,” said the white haired man weakly. “But I may technically be King of ghosts or whatever. The Infinite Realms.” He scratched at his face. “So… yeah.”

They stood in utterly mortified silence for a long moment before he seemed to remember something. “You can call me Danny,” he offered.

“...Call me Jason,” he said.

“Thanks, Jason,” Danny said genially. “So, uh, this is a mess, right?” He started floating away backwards. “I’m going to hunt down my mentor and advisor and get some uh- advice, I guess. Do you wanna come with? Or should I come back and check in once I’ve heard from him?”

Jason weighed up his situation, the conventional wisdom about getting in vehicles with strange men, and wondered how useless his gun was going to be in this situation. Danny had never reacted to it being pointed at him, so his guess was ‘utterly unhelpful’. He put it away. “I’d like a ride, thanks,” he said dryly.

They made some stilted conversation on the ride. Danny was clearly trying to hold back and give him no identifying information. That was fascinating, because it implied that there was something Jason could do from the human world to track Danny down. It was also reassuring because there was no reason to withhold information if he’d planned to keep Jason prisoner, so, ya know, that was a good sign.

Anyway, Jason got a lot of information from Danny.

Danny was a terrible liar and he misspoke like, all the time. Jason was pretty sure he was in the ghost equivalent of school, like college or something. He talked like someone in Jason’s age group would, so he’d probably died very recently. Maybe he had been a college student when he’d died and he just hadn’t given up on that degree yet, honestly. Jason managed to drag the conversation around to education. He got nowhere with asking about literature but he hit the jackpot with science. Danny was still babbling about a telescope when he landed the …ship outside of a wonky clocktower.

Jason took off his safety belt and froze in his tracks when Danny absently stopped him with a cool hand. Jason looked down at that hand.

“You had better stay here,” Danny said. He shook his head slightly. “Clocky doesn’t like everyone.”

He melted into the chair as if he had never wanted to get up. “Alright,” Jason said.

Danny was out of the spaceship by the time that Jason realized something was very wrong with that interaction.

He hadn’t decided to sit down. He hadn’t wanted to sit back down. Did- did he actually think it was reasonable to stay behind, or would he have argued and gone in normally?

‘...I think Danny did something.’ Suspicion swirled in his gut. Jason tried to take the safety belt off and stand up. He couldn’t. It was like his muscles wouldn’t respond to it.

Well, that was pretty fuckin’ evil. His pulse picked up in his throat. It… It was some kind of compulsion? He had to do what Danny told him to do? That was really fucked up. He was starting to feel really unsafe now. He wished he’d hung back with Bruce. He wanted someone to bring him home. And weirdly, he felt betrayed. He hardly trusted Danny, didn’t know the fucker well enough to, but he hadn’t gotten that impression off the guy–

‘It wasn’t him,’ Jason realized. ‘It was the binding ritual. Danny said it wasn’t like a marriage, it’s not equal. That’s why I did what Danny wanted me to do.’

Well. Well then. If Danny didn’t know that Jason had to follow his orders, Jason was most fucking certainly not going to spell it out for him. It was a grim calculation to make, but it seemed the safest. As it was, Danny seemed to want to get rid of him as fast as possible.

So that was it. He’d play along and get Danny to spit him back out into Gotham, a young hot divorcé free on the streets.

[ghast1yghosts]

famous steve wearing a mask when he can, declining hugs, and limiting events he goes to bc the person he lives with is currently immune compromised.

meanwhile rockstar eddie munson has been out of the spotlight as of late, nothing even on his social media—unusual for him.

steve mentions his roommate at a con panel to explain why he’s not doing big hugs & limited photo ops.

the dude has a cameo in one movie and apparently they’re besties? sus.

their fans pick up on it, as they do. eddie comes across a tiktok some someone breaking it down-

“i feel like there could be more to this we’ve missed. this is crazy oh my god- also this isn’t a discussion on whatever’s going on with eddie, i hope he’s doing okay.”

eddie stitches it with him half cut off on the bottom, and in the most monotone voice: “oh my god you might be on to something.” it cuts to him still cut off but with a selfie of him and steve sat in some chairs, u can see an iv bag pole but that about it for context.

“has anyone brought up this picture yet 👁️👁️” then in his normal voice, “idk just food for thought.” and the video ends.

people, rightfully, start losing their shit. does it confirm they’re roommates??? why are they together??? are they together??? it’s all very entertaining.

[macfrog]

mile high sex on fire chapter three

we're going overseas baby! (this is gonna be a three-parter cause i hyperfixated and couldn't stop myself so BUCKLE UP) author's note: i absolutely do NOT condone the use of private jets. they are GROSS and terrible for the environment and just fucking fly commerical ok? but in this ceo!joel ficland, private jets are fuelled by delusion and emit only clean, pure oxygen. thank you for reading. now, with that in mind, please enjoy reader being railed in a plane cabin. i love u all to paris n back 🤍🥐

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: you accompany joel on a work trip to paris, to eat good food, drink expensive wine, and…get to know each other a little better

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) environmental crime, plane sex, fingering, handjob, unprotected piv sex, daddy kink, joel being a fucking exhibitionist menace, creampie, more gf representation, showering together, softdom!joel, sugardaddy!joel, heavy on the flirting, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), cursing, very ridiculous spending on very ridiculous things, workplace relationship and therefore odd power dynamic yadda yadda yadda

word count: 6.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

Joel’s fingers squeeze your hips, his pace quickens even more. “Louder.” “They’re gonna – ah – they’re gonna hear.” “Who?” Joel asks. He knows damn well who. You’re only separated by a thin paneled wall. You’d be fucking surprised if the flight attendants haven’t been hearing you for the last twenty minutes. “Baby,” Joel’s voice coos as he bends forward, sweaty chest flat against your back. His lips line with your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “They get paid not to hear.”

You’ve never been on a work trip with Joel. Usually, he likes to take them alone. Martha told you once about a time a couple years before you started when Joel took an intern to a conference in Canada, and the kid spent the entire first night in the hotel bar, missed the conference the next day, and only just made the flight home, scruff of his neck between Joel’s knuckles.

He racked up a bill of nearly a thousand dollars just on liqueur and finger food. Joel had sworn he’d never take anybody anywhere with him again.

But there’s this client over in Europe he’s due to meet – an annual thing where they sit on the terrace of some luxurious hotel, drink expensive wine that tastes like piss, according to Joel, and have a cock-off over their money and status.

Sounds like fun, right?

You’ve a pretty good idea why he asked you. And he made a pretty convincing pitch: he’d promised you a relaxing weekend. You didn’t have to sit in on any meetings, he’d let you amble around the city by day, take you for a fancy dinner or two at night. All expenses paid. You barely had to lift a finger.

As per the deal, Martha organized the travel documents. Printed them, collated them, handed them to you in a neat little folder with a paperclip on top and a Post-It note with Have fun! written in red ink. You’d slipped it into your bag and followed Joel to his car, nodding to Rand as you ducked under the starlit ceiling.

Joel’s left hand sits around your thigh – because where else would it be? – his right clutching his phone, thumb scrolling as he absentmindedly reads some document. You’re watching the city soar by from behind tinted glass. Before long, it’s the dark green of trees flickering by, and then, canvased by the clear blue sky, an air traffic control tower in the distance.

The Rolls saunters past the main entrance to the airport. You watch it roll by, leaning forward in your seat.

“Wait, what…?”

“What, baby?” Joel asks, looking up from his phone.

You usually knew every fine detail of the plan by heart. It was your job to. But with Martha being in charge of arranging your flight, you’d missed one crucial speck of information this time. And that is –

You’re travelling by private fucking jet.

The car drives across smooth tarmac toward a pointed white plane, bold against the brilliant blue sky behind it. There are four people standing at the bottom of the steps leading into it; what you assume are the two pilots, and two smartly dressed flight attendants.

“How did I never know you had a…?”

Joel smirks. “Never showed you it. C’mon.”

He gets out, strolls around to your door and opens it for you. You’re still gawking at the jet.

“Jeez…” you whisper, hopping out of the car.

“What is it?” he says through a chuckle, leading you across the tarmac.

“I feel so…Everyone looks so…I’m in my fucking sweatpants, Joel.”

He looks at you under low brows, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Like he doesn’t want to hear one more word of it. He holds an arm out; his pinkie bumps into your tummy.

“I think you look beautiful, darlin’.”

It might’ve stopped you in your tracks. Might’ve crumbled the entire airport to dust. Might’ve made the sun drop out of the sky. You’re not sure. You wouldn’t notice if you dropped dead right now.

His words, his soft voice when he says them, send a pang of white noise through your ears, echoing around and bouncing off the walls of your head.

You swallow. Digest what he just said. And do your best to forget all about it.

Joel takes your hand and leads you to the plane steps, helping you up. He follows at your heels. “Thanks, Jerry, Lisa,” he says. You give both pilots a nervous smile as you pass.

The airconditioned cabin chills your arms when you reach the top, twisting around to look back to Joel.

“Go on.” Joel nods, palm ushering you inside.

You step forward and turn right, standing in the doorway to a pristine, white-walled, wooden interior cabin, leather seats dotted against the walls, dark brown glassy tables between them, soft gray carpet at your feet, vacuum cleaner lines still visible. There’s a long plush couch on the left wall, today’s newspaper on the side table next to it.

You feel Joel’s body shell around yours, his chin dips against your ear.

“Like it?”

“Not really. Feelin’ pretty guilty about all the air pollution.”

“How many trees you want me to plant to make up for it?”

You tut. “What are you doin’ in business? You’re so funny.”

You wander off without looking back, heading for one of the window seats.

“Uh,” Joel clears his throat, “there’s a separate cabin up back, too, if you want it.”

“Separate cabin?”

He nods. “’s got a bed. It’s cozy.”

A bed. Of course this asshole has a fucking bed in his private jet.

The pilots file in behind him, dipping into the cockpit. The flight attendants follow, and begin preparing for takeoff. Joel strolls over to the seat opposite yours, giving your legs a nudge under the varnished table when he sits down.

You both click your seatbelts into place, relax, and look out the window as the jet rolls by the airport, heading for the runway. The engine fires up properly, a deep hum you feel rattling up your spine, and then you’re pulled forward, body pushing heavily into the soft leather of your seat.

The plane races down the runway, the grass and trees blurring into a mix of dark and light green, before you’re lifting off the tarmac and into the air, your tummy flipping a little from excitement and maybe some nerves, and…Joel’s gaze on you.

When your eyes meet his, he scans down. Your little black t-shirt, skin tight. The way your breasts rise and fall with your breathing. Down to the waist of your sweatpants, then further down your legs. You know exactly what’s going through his mind.

And, honestly…being on a private jet on your way to a free weekend in Paris, accompanied by the best sex you’ve ever had…? Goes against a couple of your core beliefs about the world, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t on your mind, too.

The flight attendants let you guys know you can unbuckle your belts now, and, like a hive mind, you both unclip them and stand.

“Was gonna go check out that, uh–”

“I’ll show you to it,” Joel cuts in, taking your bag and leading you down the aircraft. He dips his head as he walks, the cabin too small for him to stand straight. You follow like a fucking dog, trying to hide the spring in your step.

Through a door concealed to look like part of the wall is a small room with a double bed, soft white sheets untouched. There’s a little TV on the wall opposite, a small table with another comfy chair by one of the windows, and a rail for hanging up clothes. The shades over the windows are pulled almost all the way down, sunlight splintering through and lining the soft carpet.

Joel wasn’t wrong. It is cozy.

He sets your bag down on the floor and closes the door behind you. You notice he locks it.

The corners of your lips tug, your eyebrows raise. “Might be classier than my bedroom.”

He scoffs, and you turn, falling back onto the bed and kicking your shoes off.

“Alright,” you announce, flat-out on the sheets, “I’m gonna get some shut-eye.”

Joel looks surprised. Almost – offended. “Sh…You’re gonna sleep?”

“’s why you got a bed, ain’t it?”

He narrows his eyes, runs his tongue along the bottom of his teeth. Steps forward. Sticks a knee between yours. “Not exactly.”

You smile up at him. He’s pulling the jacket from his shoulders, plain white tee underneath. He looks so fucking good. The man always looks so fucking good. He tosses the jacket to the floor and bends down over you. Hands pressing deep into the bed either side of your head, torso hovering over yours. Hips just too far away for you to lift yours up to meet them.

You take hold of his wrists. “Then…show me what it’s for.”

Joel looks from your lips to your chest, then back up to your eyes, grinning like a devil. He lifts one hand and his fingers come down to play with the drawstring of your sweatpants, tugging painfully slow on them. You want to whine, but that’d be letting him win too easily.

He loosens the waist and his fingers find the hem of your tee tucked beneath.

“You gonna show me those pretty tits, baby?”

You nod, biting your lip as he peels your top from your body, your back arching, arms splaying out on the bed. Joel uncovers your chest and slips the top over your head, discarding it to the side and leaning back to take the view in.

You didn’t wear a bra today. Wanted to travel in as much comfort as possible.

One of your wiser choices.

“Fuck, darlin’…” he breathes, eyes set on your perky tits, your round, hardened nipples. His reaction sends a fleet of electricity down to your core.

“C’mere,” you whisper, taking his shirt in your fists and dragging him down against your naked torso. And then his hips are there, right against yours, and you grind up into him, feeling his bulging crotch between your legs.

Your fingers dance along the hem of his shirt and he lifts off of you, letting you tug it over his head before his chest is pressed back against yours. You part your lips and he fills your mouth with his tongue, hands in your hair, body grinding against your own. He’s pushing you further up the mattress until you’re both in the center, disturbing the sheets and shifting the cushions decorating the bed.

Joel’s hand trails down your naked stomach and under your pants, cutting past the lace of your underwear to cup your mound, middle finger daring ever lower. You moan and drag your hips forward to edge his fingers further, until they’re dipping between your folds and your body’s rolling with pleasure.

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, “that’s it, huh? That’s what you want?”

“Uhuh,” you nod, bottom lip between your teeth, eyelashes batting in a plea for him to keep going. Keep fucking going.

His mouth dips between your jaw and your shoulder, teeth picking up your hot skin to suck a bruise while two fingers push inside of you, lifting your back from the mattress and into Joel’s rock-solid body. Some noise escapes his lips, something caught between a laugh and a groan.

“So tight, baby,” he murmurs, drawing a smile across your face.

And then your hands are messing around at his waistband, fingers fumbling with the button. Wanting him in your hands as much as he has you around his own. Needing to feel what you’re doing to him, since he’s well aware of what he’s done to you.

Joel’s hand slips gently out from under your pants and his weight lifts off of you. In the slivers of light streaming through the cabin windows, his silhouette steps back off the bed and shoves the denim down his thighs. His jeans hit the floor and as quick as he left you, he’s back pressing into you again, hard outline of his length nudging against the top of your thigh.

You slip a hand under the elastic of his underwear and take hold of his cock, while he picks up where he left off between your legs. Your lips connect, breathing laughs and pants and desperate moans into each other, hands working to push each other closer and closer…

Joel’s fingers pump in and out, curling just enough to hit your G-spot every time. His thumb’s bumping at your clit, pushing waves of pleasure with each circle. He adds a third finger when you start to gasp, the movement of your fist around his shaft becoming messy and staggered. You’re trying to focus on him, trying to get him there as fast as he’s getting you, but he’s so fucking good at it, and you’re starting to fade out of the cabin.

Your eyes roll shut; head falls back against the bed. You’re still trying to fucking jack him off, as if he’d even let himself cum in your hands before he’s been inside you. But you’re desperately trying not to give him the satisfaction of having you unfold on his hand less than ten minutes into this. Desperately trying not to give in to him and his stupid private jet.

“It’s okay, baby,” Joel whispers in your ear, pressing a delicate kiss to your hair, “you can cum. Do it for me.”

“F-uck you,” you whisper, and you cave.

Let’s put it down to the air pressure when you’re this high up. In fact, let’s just say: you’re on a plane, and you’ve never had anything remotely close to sex on a plane before, and that’s why, when your orgasm bursts through, you cum harder than you think you’ve ever done before. It’s because of how fucking insane this is.

Let’s just say.

You come to with your face buried in the crook of Joel’s neck. His chest is vibrating, Adam’s apple bobbing. You pull back and notice the dimples in his swollen cheeks, the crow’s feet by his eyes, and then…the wide smile spread across his lips.

“That feel good, darlin’?” he asks through a laugh.

You curse at him again, eyes screwing shut. His hand’s still between your legs, slowly moving in and out, lulling you through the tail end of your orgasm. Your hands have deserted their original job; they’re clutching Joel’s shoulders. You don’t even remember grabbing onto him.

“Got somethin’ that’ll make you feel even better,” he breathes, and before you’re fully awake, his hands are on your hips, flipping you over. He drags your pants down your legs, discarding them to the floor beside his.

You sigh when he pulls your ass up into the air, resting your ear on your folded arms. Accepting defeat, or maybe just…letting him do what he does best.

Joel slips your panties to the side and runs his cock up and down your dripping cunt. You flinch, still sensitive, and feel him slow down.

“Gonna make you feel real good, alright?”

“Mhm,” you reply, eyes closing again as he lines up.

It sounds like a bit of a dumb thing to say. Joel makes you feel good every time his hands are on you, without question. Even that first night, in that dive bar, before he’d ever really done anything. His hands sent electricity through your body that you failed all weekend to rid yourself of. But you hear what he’s really saying.

You haven’t had each other yet without someone on the other side of the wall, waiting for one of you. It’s always been a rush, always been about that race to the finish line just to satisfy your needs, and then return to Earth as soon as you’re done.

There’s no need to rush to that finish line this time around. Nobody’s waiting. Joel can do whatever he wants, can fuck you however he likes, and have you under his hand for as long as he wants. As long as you both last.

The bed makes sense now, doesn’t it?

He pushes inside you, thick, hard, full. You gasp, face burying into the comforter, legs spreading to accommodate his size. Your fingers grasp onto the sheets, nails digging into the soft fabric as he fills you up, pulls halfway out, and rocks back in.

“Fuck, Joel,” you cry, and his hips slam into yours.

“Huh?” he asks.

“Daddy,” you correct yourself, still gasping.

“Better.”

Joel pounds into you, strong grip on your waist, pulling you up and down his cock at a punishing pace. His grunts match your whines. Your hand stretches out to grab something – anything – to hold onto, to steady yourself as your body begins to collapse.

“Daddy,” you mewl again, muffled by the cotton of the sheets, like it’s the only word coming to mind. “So – fuckin’ – good.”

“Louder, baby,” he replies, groaning when you tighten around him.

You whimper. “F-fuck, daddy.”

Joel’s fingers squeeze your hips, his pace quickens even more. “Louder.”

“They’re gonna – ah – they’re gonna hear.”

“Who?” Joel asks.

He knows damn well who. You’re only separated by a thin paneled wall. You’d be fucking surprised if the flight attendants haven’t been hearing you for the last twenty minutes.

“Baby,” Joel’s voice coos as he bends forward, sweaty chest flat against your back. His lips line with your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “They get paid not to hear.”

His hips crack into yours again once, and then halt. You cry out, the sudden feeling of him in his entirety, filling you up, pushing right up against your cervix, too much to bear. Too much to be muffled by the mattress beneath you.

“Let – them,” Joel’s hips drag back, slow, leaving you empty, “hear – you.”

He thrusts forward again, painfully, and you moan. Loud. “Ah, daddy,” you cry out again, and you swear Joel’s chest rumbles behind you with a laugh.

“That’s it, good girl. Tell ‘em how good it feels.”

You feel your mind start to slip, the cabin going with it. Your eyes roll closed, your mouth falls open. The only sound escaping your lips a whine, over and over, shaped just like the word daddy, daddy, daddy.

Joel’s forehead rests on the crown of yours, his voice a soft hum at the nape of your neck.

“See? Sound way too pretty to keep quiet, darlin’.”

He’s panting, words spilling out of his mouth between gasps and grunts. Hips are snapping at a grueling pace. You reach for his wrists again, planted in the bed either side of your head, and squeeze as if it might relieve the building tension in the pit of your stomach.

But he’s going so fast, so hard, fucking you dumb. And you can feel him start to falter, when your walls hold him snug, tightening around him as you reach your high.

He cums when you do. You feel him empty inside you as you hurtle through your own orgasm, rippling bliss all around your body. You both cry out, filling the tiny room with groans of pleasure and release together.

Your hips give, fall flat to the mattress, Joel still inside, slowly rocking back and forth, pushing his cum deeper and deeper inside you.

His elbows sink into the bed at your shoulders, caging you under his body as the remnants of your highs wash away. He’s running soft, wet kisses from your neck down the top of your spine. When your body stills, the pulsing of your cunt a mere flutter, he slips out from between your legs and pushes up off of your body.

Joel collapses alongside you atop the tangle of sheets and pillows, skin sticking, bodies thrumming with energy. You roll over to lie next to him. Chests rising and falling in unison, fingers intertwining at your sides. You’re staring at the ceiling, head tilting to rest on Joel’s shoulder, and he places a soft kiss to your hair.

You glance up to look into his brown eyes, lit by the thin rays of bursting sunlight seeping through the windows. The way the light moves across him as the plane turns, brilliant rays sweeping over the horizon and reflecting every angle of his face.

When he notices you, he dips his chin, and you prop yourself up, pressing your lips to his. Joel holds your jaw softly, thumb grazing over your cheekbone. His other hand scoops around your back, holding your body close to his.

“Sleepy,” you mutter, and he nods.

“Get some rest,” he tells you, but you’re already laying your head down on his chest.

Your heavy eyes blink the jet out of view; Joel’s hand stroking your hair sends you off to sleep.

----------

You wake under the white sheets, still wrapped up in Joel’s arms, to the sound of voices on the TV. Some comedy movie. Sounds like Adam Sandler. Joel mutes it when he notices you stirring.

“Afternoon,” he mutters, voice husky.

“Hi,” you reply softly, and his hand runs through your hair. “How long was I out?”

“Only a little while. They’re probably getting ready for lunch. You want me to head out first?”

You nod, suddenly feeling ashamed…and hungry. “Yeah. ‘n can you…make sure they don’t ask?”

“They ain’t gonna ask,” he groans, laughing as you roll off his body and let him up.

You watch as he dresses himself, toned arms pulling his tee over broad shoulders; tan legs slipping back into neat jeans. He slings his jacket over his arm and bends back down over you to let you kiss him again – slow, deep. Something of a thanks, a you’re welcome, maybe. A marker, anyway. A prelude to this weekend.

And then he slips out front. You lock the door behind him and start collecting your clothes, hopping around the cabin as you pull them on.

Before you leave, you grab a hoodie from your bag, feeling a little more exposed than you did when you first boarded. You toss it over your shoulders and open the door.

“Couple more hours,” Joel tells you as you sit opposite him, propping your ankles on his lap. His hands run over your socks, brows furrowing when he notices the pattern. “Bart Simpson?”

“Comfiest socks I own. Good plane socks.”

“Alright.”

“Go on. Make fun of ‘em.”

“I didn’t say anything. You want somethin’ to eat?”

You smirk. “Sure.”

He pours you a glass of water from the metal jug on the table between you both, and one of the attendants appears as if by magic on your right.

“Got you gluten free stuff,” Joel says as you gulp at the ice water.

You almost choke. “Seriously?”

His face twists, confused. Mirroring your astonishment. “Yeah. You think I’d let you starve?”

You almost laugh before you hear it, and realize how sweet it is. You didn’t even know Joel noticed this stuff. Didn’t think it’d be on his radar.

“Thank you,” you whisper, lifting your glass to mask the blush burning across your cheeks.

Joel nods once. Then turns to the attendant and asks for a burger, side of fries, side of onion rings. “We got sweet potato fries, Len?” he asks.

“Think so,” Len replies. “Want them instead? Or both?”

Joel thinks it over for probably two seconds, before he shrugs and says, “Both. Thanks, man.”

Len turns to you, but you’re still staring at Joel. “Unbelievable,” you mutter.

Joel holds his hands out. “I’m hungry.”

You give Len a smile. “What’s…What can I have?”

“We got gluten free flour, bread, pasta, uh…garlic bread for sides, too. And a couple desserts.”

“What the f…?” You stare at Joel. “You didn’t have to–”

“Just order, baby,” Joel says, palm facing you, stopping you from going on.

“I’ll, uh…You do fried chicken?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll have fried chicken, side of fries, and coleslaw, if you have it, please.”

Len nods curtly and heads back up front, leaving you and Joel on your own again. You finish your thought.

“What the fuck?”

He’s chuckling. “What?”

“You…This is…Nothing, you just…you blow my mind, every time.”

Joel shrugs, grinning. “Blow your back out, ‘n all.”

“Alright.” You snatch your ankles from his grasp – Bart’s toothy smirk slipping from between Joel’s fingers – and sit up straight, looking out of the window to the dazzling sky; bright blue on top and fluffy white clouds beneath.

Your food arrives shortly after and the pair of you eat in comfortable silence. Joel checks through his emails, you sit back in your seat with your headphones in. It’s nice, not having a phone to answer or Joel’s schedule to fix. Nicer, still, having him feet away from you, giving you all the attention you could possibly want at the drop of a hat.

You land in Paris at 10PM local time. Straight off the plane and into another sleek, black car, driven by a gray-haired, sharp-suited man named Denis whose hand Joel shakes before climbing in beside you. He slides into the leather seat and you fall against one another, your head on his shoulder. Partition wound up, though neither of you feel much like doing anything that’d require privacy. Your eyes are tired, heavy, you smell like eight hours’ worth of plane, and you’re basically salivating at the thought of collapsing into a huge, soft, clean bed.

Which is exactly what the pair of you do when you reach the hotel. You’re in some extravagant suite picked by Joel; you manage two glances around the dark place before he’s leading you by hand off to the bedroom, cases still parked at the front door.

And before you know it, you’re sinking into the plush sheets of a king-size bed, limbs entangled with Joel’s, city lights twinkling through the window into your sleep-glazed eyes as you drift off.

----------

Day breaks across Paris around seven in the morning. You wake with the blue glow of the sky, dusty pink on the horizon bleeding upward as the sun rises higher. When your eyes open and adjust to the light, you glance over Joel’s still sleeping body and notice the view behind him, split in half by the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower.

The curtains are still pulled back – neither of you noticed nor had the energy to shut them when you arrived. You’re both still in your clothes from yesterday, too. Joel managed to kick off his shoes, and you remember him pulling yours off before he fell into the bed next to you. You didn’t even sleep under the bedsheets.

You push yourself up off the bed, stretching your back and glancing around. This room is fucking nuts. Gold accented – gold handles, gold light switches, gold frames. Pretentious modern art decorating each wall, an upholstered headboard that almost touches the ceiling in front of you. Marble-topped nightstands with spotless silver lamps, glinting in the light.

You roll off of the bed, Bart Simpson socks landing on soft carpet, though his face has been awkwardly twisted around your ankle in your sleep. You shuffle off to a door on the left, leading down a small hallway – past some fancy ornate vase – to the living room: a wide, open space with the same floor-to-ceiling windows as the bedroom, looking out to the same view.

Two velvet couches sit opposite one another, a white marble coffee table sat between. Behind them, a dining table with eight chairs. Gleaming varnished wood. And then, through a couple more doors, a kitchenette with modern white cabinets, a coffee machine, a microwave.

Fucking. Nuts.

You hear Joel stirring in the bedroom and wander back through, dazed with sleep and amazement at this place. He’s rubbing his eyes when you walk in and spring down on top of him on the bed.

“Mornin’,” he grumbles, voice thick and husky. His hands fall onto your thighs, sat either side of his waist, and his eyes flutter open. “You’re energetic.”

“Have you fucking seen this place?”

“I have. Stay here every year.”

You press further into him, feeling a swell in his jeans and doing your best to ignore it.

“Can we go explore?”

“Outside?”

You nod eagerly, despite the way his face screws up.

“Baby,” he sighs, “I’m still in my damn jeans.”

“So, go shower. Get dressed.”

He’s not done protesting. “We travelled for, like, nine hours straight yesterday.”

“’n now we’re here and we ain’t here long, so let’s go do something. C’mon.”

You lace your fingers through Joel’s and pull him up toward you, sitting in his lap on the bed. He buries his face in your chest, mumbling something incoherent into the cotton of your shirt.

You giggle. “Huh? Can’t hear you.”

Joel pulls back with a sigh and rolls his eyes dramatically. “Alright,” he says, “go get ready.”

You leap off of him with a quiet squeal of glee.

As you pace around the suite, dragging your case into the bedroom, fishing some clean clothes and your toothbrush out, practically skipping into the marble-tiled shower room, Joel lays back in bed watching your every move. Smiling, eyebrows lifting with encouragement anytime you look over to him. Head resting back in the crook of his arm, sleepy eyes taking in all of your excitement.

You’re rinsing shampoo out of your hair when he slides into the shower behind you, a quick kiss to your shoulder.

“No sex,” you tell him with a pointed finger, squeezing the lemon scented gel into the palm of your hand.

“No, ma’am,” he says with a smirk, dipping his head to let you lather up the suds in his salt and pepper hair. “So, where we goin’?”

You shrug. “Wherever. Lots to do in Paris.”

“Wanna get you somethin’ nice,” he says, eyes screwed shut as he runs his head under the flow of water, “a thanks for comin’ with me.”

“I think maybe the private jet, the hotel room, plus the free trip in itself is thanks enough, Joel.”

But Joel disagrees. Heartily, apparently.

He takes your hand and helps you out of the car on a tree-lined street, tall cream buildings on either side. It looks like a movie set. You’re following Joel’s lead, spending more time craning your neck to look up at the huge, ornate windows guarded by black balconettes while he guides you across cobblestone toward the smoothly paved sidewalk.

You’re not even paying attention to where he’s taking you until you’re stood in the middle of a glistening store, plush rug under your feet, lavish chairs in the center of the room, a rainbow of fashion surrounding you.

“What…? No, Joel.”

“Hm?” he asks, eyes scanning the room. He takes a step, and you tug on his arm.

“I can’t fucking afford Gucci,” you whisper, pulling his body back against yours.

He hands you a bemused smile, eyebrows low, corners of his lips pulled. “All expenses paid, baby.”

Your arm falls limp and he drags you through the store, past mannequins in patterned gowns and silk shirts, past shelves of obnoxiously huge purses and accessories gleaming in the spotlights from above.

Your fingers stay locked around Joel’s hand, your head swiveling so much you worry it might fall off, looking from the vibrant floral wallpaper down to the spotless tiled floor, glancing politely at attendants and then dipping your head and wandering by them behind Joel.

“See anything?” he asks, turning to you at the opposite end of the store.

It’s ridiculous. This entire trip…is ridiculous, and you’ve only been here twelve hours. Following around at Joel’s heels like a puppy, watching as he clicks his fingers – no, before he even gets the chance to click his fingers – and everything and anything either of you could dream up just…happens. Right in front of you.

He won’t let up. You know him. If you tried to pull him back outside onto the street, he’d buy you something for the hell of it.

You know him. So, you decide to use that to your advantage.

“Gucci…I dunno…” you muse, squinting at him.

“Not your thing?” he asks, and he seems curious, but – you know him. You know that behind that polite mask is a smirk thick enough to make your knees wobble. He knows what you’re doing. “Where to, angel?”

You lead him out of the store. Feel his shadow behind you, watching as you thank the doorman and take a left around the corner, passing under the shade of the gently rustling trees. Arm in arm, you arrive before a huge archway, pristine windows surrounding the door to…

“Dolce & Gabbana…” Joel looks up at the stone writing atop the arch. “Alright. Classy girl.”

You giggle, pulling him past the wrought-iron fence and inside.

It’s sleeker, moodier. Less in your face. Suits you a bit better, though you can’t quite swallow back the guilt that sticks in your throat as you saunter around, Joel right behind you. It catches you when an assistant touches your arm, snapping you out of your daze, and asks if you need anything.

“No, thank you,” you reply, mirroring her smile. “Thank you.”

She nods and floats off.

Joel’s frame shells around yours, dipping his jaw to lean against your shoulder. “What about that one?” His eyes flit up to a mannequin just past a lit table of purses.

“The black one?”

“Mhm.”

“You like that?”

He repeats, a little more exaggerated: “Mhm.”

You shrug. “I do look good in black.”

“Look better in nothin’.” Joel steps forward and takes the tag between two delicate fingers, deliberately hiding it from you. He turns back, lifts his eyebrows in question. “Buy you it if you promise to wear it tonight.”

You smile. This man knows how to barter. And you take no convincing at all.

“Alright,” you accept, “deal.”

----------

Three hours later, you’re strolling down another cobbled street with an ice cream in your hand. And not much else, by the way. Joel’s taken all the shopping bags back to the hotel. He slapped your hand away when you tried to lift one of them from his clutches.

The wind sifts gently through your hair, cooling your face and neck, toying with the hem of the oversized shirt you’re wearing. It flutters the French flags overhead, red, white and blue blowing in the breeze. Cars roll by, engines humming as they weave in and out between one another, horns calling out in the distance.

Joel hadn’t let you come up to the counter to pay with him, had insisted you stay right where you were standing, and when he finished up and laced his fingers through yours, it was like a surge of energy had shot through him.

He led you out of the store and into another, and another, and another…until his hands were wrapped around, what, six bags? All carrying different components of your outfit for tonight.

And then he’d noticed the time – unlocked his phone with a curse under his breath, and kissed your temple. Midday. He was meeting Jean-Marc in an hour.

“You wanna come back with me? Chill at the hotel?” he’d asked, dialing his chauffeur’s number.

“I’m good,” you said, smiling sweetly as he squeezed your shoulder. Then, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed you his card.

“’case you see anything else you want.”

“Joel,” you protested, but he’d shut you up by clicking his teeth and walking off, leaving you to follow after him, shamelessly beaming.

He’d apologized another three times before Denis had pulled up, then once more as he loaded the trunk with your bags.

“See you later. Enjoy your meeting,” you teased, laughing at the way his face twisted into a grimace as the car rolled off.

It’d been a pretty nice afternoon. You’d dipped into a couple more stores – though, without Joel to impress, the low-cut dresses and short miniskirts were somewhat less exciting.

That is, until you passed by a lingerie store. You stood outside for a second, peering by your reflection in the window to study what lay behind. Suddenly lace and satin – and the idea of Joel seeing you in them – seemed a lot more enticing.

You’d pieced together an entire getup: bra, panties, garter belt, even a pair of stockings, and a silk robe to go over the top. You handed over Joel’s card, ignoring the way your cheeks began to heat and focusing instead on how smug you felt, and skipped out of the store, bag in hand.

You’d called Denis five minutes ago to ask for a ride back to the hotel. He called you Madame, he said Nonono every time you apologized for bothering him again, and he promised he’d be there in less than ten minutes.

You pace back and forth along the curb, waiting for the shiny black Maybach to pull up. You’ve checked your phone, like, five times already, kinda hoping there’ll be a text from Joel. You swing the bag between your fingers.

A door swings open behind you, giggles filter out into the street, and you turn to see a couple bounding out of a jewelers, hand in hand. She flicks her left wrist up, tilts it in the sun. It’s hard to ignore the light bouncing off of her ring finger. You feel nauseous at the sight.

Suddenly the Parisian street dissolves, and what sweeps over in replacement is a long, empty lawn, maple trees swaying menacingly in the distance. There’s a blur of bright blue sky, sunrays bursting across your vision. Your hand comes up to shield your eyes, and there he is. There he was.

He was on the grass. You told him to stand up; his suit trousers would be stained green. He did it anyway. Trembling hands, expectant stare. You stuttered and stammered your way through a sentence fueled by shock and horror and…resentment.

And then you did it anyway, too.

The crackle of tires coming to a stop on the road in front drags your fraught gaze from the couple, now strutting off down the avenue. You reach for the door handle, but Denis is already out of the car and leaning down, hand on your back as you duck into the backseat.

----------

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[romanoffsbish]

Surprise, Surprise

Scarlett Johansson x Reader (no pronouns used)

Scarlett was wrapping up another day on set when she got unexpected news… Aka, R visits her on set | WC: 1,366

A/N: Purely fluff — R is not given any description but their infant is described as looking like them both.

"Your son is the cutest!" Elizabeth sang as she giddily approached Scarlett who had been stood behind an accordion panel, changing out of her characters outfit. The blonde grinned and nodded along, it was the truth and she was used to her costar gushing over your son, but it was usually over photos she'd show her...

——

“His cheeks are just so chubby, and so squishy—you and Y/N created a little cutie; bring him to set more."

"What do you mean more?" Elizabeth's smile fell, "I am now realizing I might've ruined a surprise."

Scarlett smiled at her aloof friend, "Thanks for that!"

Then she took off in a hurry, abandoning her plans to change, leaving in her favorite pair of sweats and her character's black and blue striped crop top instead. It had been a week since she last saw you two, as you both agreed moving your son a lot wasn't ideal, so she filmed during the week and was home on weekends.

Except the last one since she had to film promo for The Outset in New York while your current home was in LA so it was random fleeting hours over FaceTime, and that made her dream for the day her schedule clears.

Scarlett needed you in her arms more than she needed anything else, well besides to kiss your son's cheeks so she kept up a decent pace even though she was winded. Just as she rounded the corner of the lot she caught sight of you walking up the steps of her trailer, her eyes sparkled with joy, but then they narrowed when she saw the diaper bag lowly dangling from your arm, with your other hand cradling your sleeping babies head to your chest, you were clearly trying to safely ascend.

The blonde jogged a little faster, concern ebbing its way into her soul as she saw you move up another step. Just as you were about to move again she arrived, her hand seamlessly took the diaper bag so you could grip the side rails while her other firmed against your back.

Scarlett felt as you sighed and it made her smile, you opened the door and almost as soon as you entered she had circled you and stopped in front of you. "Thanks."

Your wife smirked, "No need to thank me love,” her lips then closed the distance left between yours and her hand pushed you into her, “I always got your back."

Scarlett giggled when you threw your head back with a playful groan, “you’re just so cheesy Scar, stop it…”

Your wife instantly pouted, feigning offense, “Why?”

“Because I can’t have our son following your lead,” you responded while gently cupping his ears to make sure your wife understood the message. “He’s vulnerable.”

Scarlett scoffed, “If I remember correctly it was my corny quips that won you over baby, you ate it up.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” you deflected with ease as you slid from her hold and started to move towards her bed so you could set Noah down, but just before you could she pulled you back in and kissed you until you had forgotten what you were planning to do.

The blonde felt warmth slowly spread throughout her body as she melted into the feeling of your thumbs gently caressing the soft skin of her fuller hips. Just beneath her chin lay the adorable, snoring cause. It was hard for her at first, adjusting to the physical demands of pregnancy but then she had your son.

Not only was he the most adorable infant she’d ever seen, but she saw the natural way in which you took to parenthood. With the unwavering love you not only held, but expressed, like in small moments like these, she learned to cherish the changes and to crave more.

If not for her predetermined, already rearranged once schedule she would have convinced you to make more. Hell, she even considered asking you right now… This is her last commitment for a long while, and shooting was set to wrap up next month. It was the perfect time.

A soft whine pulled the two of you apart just in time for a pouting baby to whip his head back from your chest, his eyes and frown shone with deep grumpiness as he slowly blinked, eyes fluttering with a clear fight as his body decided if it was even ready to be awakened yet.

Scarlett smirked at you and you nodded your head in agreement, the two of you shared another peck before both of your lips firmly planted on your son’s cheeks. He grunted initially but the two of you felt them upturn and a gentle giggle left him at the tickling sensation.

“There’s mama’s happy boy,” Scarlett coo’d and your son’s head whipped to the side as if he had only just realized who it was that kissed you and his right cheek. His giddy babbles warmed your heart but his inability to keep still strained your back and led to you swiftly removing him from the harness so he could leap to her.

Scarlett caught him with ease and you sighed in relief. It was his new favorite habit, he’d just leap from one person to the next, hence the need for a baby carrier to restrain his urges and the potential script for Xanax you’ll need as he becomes more daringly independent.

The two of them were in their own world the moment you were no longer attached to them, swaying softly as she told him all about her week. It almost hurt your feelings but you knew it was their time to bond and hers to finally spill the movie secrets even you weren’t allowed to hear so you ventured off to the bathroom.

When you returned thirty minutes later, after having slipped off to take a walk—something you also needed, they were calmly laying in the bed, your sons sleeping face was now smushed against her exposed abdomen and you smiled at the scene from the ajar door.

“You’re letting a draft in,” your wife teased as she shut the book in her hand. Without a word you replied by shutting the door and moving further into her trailer. Scarlett watched you curiously as you slipped your shoes off then as gently as you could you joined them.

Her fingers softly stroked over the skin of your cheek, then it did the same for your sons right after as you were both currently utilizing her stomach as a pillow. As her hand returned to rest on your head yours moved to continue to caress your son’s sweet face.

Noah was your first of hopefully many, miracles, the perfect blend of you two in both features and attitude. Scarlett’s heart nearly combusted as she saw the same desires she held for months now blossom in your eyes.

“How much longer until you’re all ours Scarlett?” The blonde gently guided your face until your chin was resting against the softened muscles of her abs. “I am always all yours,” she smiled gently, her gaze genuine as she stroked your cheek. “My entire heart is here.”

“Entire?” She nodded, gaze a bit confused as you questioned her level of loyalty. “That’s too bad…”

Now she was amused, and played right along, “Why?”

“Kinda hoping there’s room for more,” you began, voice light and lovestruck as you cradled your son’s face in one hand and reached out for hers. “More?”

You nodded, then confirmed her hopes, “More little ones just like this goober that’s drooling all over you.”

Scarlett beamed, “I’ve been hoping you’d say that for actual months now baby. I want endless little you’s.”

You smiled as you placed a gentle kiss to the subtle ridges that adorned her stomach before nuzzling against the warm skin—an attempt to burrow into her which you knew to be impossible, yet you always tried.

“I love you, my beautiful baby mama,” you mumbled tiredly, lips gentle as they kissed her belly once more. The blonde chucked then stared down at your calm face in relief. “I love you too, you beautiful fool.”

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

Unpredictable-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: I was inspired a lot by the Bama Rush documentary and couldn't get the idea of a sorority girl in GOD U out of my head. Let me know if you want a part 2.

Warnings: some swearing

Words: 5.2k

Series Masterlist

Future probability cognition, the ability to see potential future outcomes, was usually a nice power to have. At 7, I knew my parents were going to get divorced before either of them considered filing. At 9, I knew my mother would focus all her energy on the agency. At 12, I knew that my older brother would take a head of surgery job in Buenos Aires, escaping the chaos at home. Despite this history, nothing could have prepared me for my second year at Godolkin.

The first day back on campus was uneventful: I survived a grueling early morning Pilates class that I envisioned would put me in Sydney’s, the Si Chi president, good graces and, later in the afternoon, I settled an argument between two Si Chi juniors by predicting that brunch would be the most successful rush event.

Being (one of) the first black high-ranking members of Si Chi could be a full-time job.

As I was re-reading the chapters for Brink’s class, my V-Phone buzzed with a text from Leah, one of the seniors in the sorority.

L: Do you know Emma?

I quickly typed back: Which one? Wallace or the girl who got the botched nj in SK?

L: Neither. Short girl with curly blonde hair. She’s here 4 u.

The yelp that left my mouth would have been embarrassing if anyone else was in the house study room. Quickly, I tucked my book under my arm and ran into the ivory and wood-paneled foyer complete with Tiffany crystal chandelier and faint instrumental piano music playing through the Bluetooth speakers. At the door, Leah’s arms were crossed over her lavender babydoll dress as she smiled fakely at Emma, who looked more apprehensive than usual.

“Emma, hi, I thought I told you to text me when you got here!” I greeted as I approached the two.

Emma’s expression relaxed when her blue eyes landed on me. “Sorry, I got distracted and then I got lost trying to find you.”

I glanced at Leah, who shot me a questioning look. “Thanks, Leah, I can take it from here.”

Leah shrugged, turned, and teleported into thin air. Emma’s eyes widened again as she stepped further into the house and I closed the door behind her.

“Sorry about Leah; she’s cagier than usual because she couldn’t get a refill on her favorites,” I explained.

“It’s fine, I’m just glad you aren’t like that,” Emma admitted.

I paused to finally hug her and she nearly crushed me as she wound her arms around my middle. It felt like forever since I had seen Emma, even though it was at my dad’s annual 4th of July barbecue. When I pulled away, Emma eyed the book in my hand.

“You’re reading before school starts. Nerd,” she teased.

   I playfully pushed her shoulder. “We’re in college, we have to take school way more seriously now. Besides, a requirement for Si Chi is at least a 3.8.”

   Emma tapped her chin. “Let me guess, you have a 4.0.”

  I smiled and tugged her further into the house. Of course, I had to give her a tour of the house and introduce her to the girls we passed. When we finally got to my room, Emma collapsed on top of my pastel blue comforter, dropping her bag on the matching rug.

  “I know Si Chi is a top house, but you basically live in Barbie’s Dream House,” Emma beamed. “How do I get in? What do I have to do? I will do literally anything or anyone.”

   I rolled my eyes and set my book on my desk. “I’m glad you like the place but, you haven’t even met your roommate yet. What’s her name again?”

  Emma pushed herself up on her elbows with a huff. “Marie Moreau. I tried to find her on social media, but she doesn’t have any: No X, no TikTok, not even an obligatory Facebook.”

  Social media presence was basically a requirement at GOD U these days so it was a bold move for someone to show up without any. It could mean Marie was hardcore about her studies or…

  “She might have strict parents,” I pointed out, sitting next to Emma.

  Emma raised an eyebrow. “They better not be weird, cult-y parents. I guess that would be my luck too: have a psycho roommate my freshman year.”

   “Hey, no one could have had it worse than me: a slob who always had boys over and threatened to gut me in my sleep,” I argued.

   “But, you saw all of that coming,” Emma argued.

   I shook my head. “Only the part where she stood over my bed with a knife in hand.” I sighed and pressed my hands into the covers. “I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with that ever again.”

   “Really, because some of these girls are giving unhinged,” Emma replied.

   “The nice thing is I either pick up on the signs or ‘see’ their breaking point,” I explained.

   Emma nodded and pushed herself off my bed to start exploring my room. As she started messing with my checkered Moschino teddy bear figurine, my phone buzzed on my desk. When I grabbed it, I saw it was a video call from Cate.

   “Hi, what’s up?” I greeted, holding the phone at the most flattering angle.

   “I’m trying to entertain myself while Luke preps for training,” Cate admitted.

   “What, you’re not totally entertained by your star boyfriend?” I teased.

   Cate rolled her eyes. “No, I can’t wait for this to be over. You’re coming, right?”

   I shook my head. “Sorry, we have a rush event at the same time, including a choreographed dance.”

  “Ooh, did you choreograph it?” Cate asked.

  “I might have helped a little.”

  “Well, I’m pissed I’ll miss it but make sure to have someone send me all the cute videos and pictures,” Cate requested.

  “Sure.”

  There was some yelling in the background and Cate rolled her eyes.

  “I have to go but we’ll talk later.”

  “Bye!”

  When I hung up, Emma was staring at me with her mouth gaping, the teddy figurine dangerously close to slipping from her grasp and onto the hardwood floor. I crossed the room as quickly as I could and carefully placed the figurine back on my dresser.

  “Emma, I love you but if you break anything, I will lose it,” I warned.

  “You know Cate Dunlap?” Emma asked slowly.

  “Oh, yeah, she’s my peer mentor. Dean Shetty paired us up last year since our powers are similar,” I answered.

  “So, you’ve met Luke Riordan? Like, you’ve been in his presence?”

  “Yes,” I answered slowly.

  “And you didn’t faint or throw up from his glory?”

   “Emma, he’s a regular person. His powers are insane but he is also human, just like us.”

  “No, I’m a regular person. Luke Riordan is, like, a demigod or something. Is he better looking in person?”

   I hesitated and busied myself with grabbing my rush outfit from my closet and setting it on my bed. Then, I stared at my shoes, feeling Emma’s eyes bored into the back of my head. I closed my eyes and focused on the event tonight, the potential sounds and people. Seconds later, I got a decent image of my Si Chi sisters and I dancing in front of the house, surrounded by freshmen girls in Princess Polly and House of CB. I focused all my energy on looking at our feet and tried not to groan when I saw red high-top Converse.

   “Every time,” I muttered as I opened my eyes.

   Two more years, just two more years of going along and I would reap the benefits: a strong ranking, a decent contract, and my pick of the most eligible supes. I just had to keep playing the game.

   I grabbed my platform red Converses and set them in front of my bed, sheepishly turning to Emma. “Yes, Emma.”

     She squealed. “I knew it!”

     I laughed at her joy as she bounced in her Vans. “Go to the training today and see for yourself.”

   Emma’s expression deflated slightly as she walked closer to me. “I wish you could come, you could introduce us!”

   “There will be a next time,” I stated.

   “Promise?” She held up her pinky and eyed me as I slowly wrapped my manicured one around hers. She opened her mouth but was cut off by an alarm going off on her phone. “Shit, I have to go film a video!”

   “You’re still doing Little Cricket?” I asked.

   Emma shushed me loudly and her eyes filled with panic. “Not so loud and definitely not in this house!”

  The girls probably already know all about it, I thought.

  I flipped my waist-length box braids over my shoulder and laughed as she rushed towards the door. “You don’t know where you’re going, let me walk you out!”

  She paused for a split second and gave me some time to catch up to her. However, I led her through the quickest route back to the front door and she gave me a quick hug before she took off. I laughed as I closed the door behind her.

  “Some things never change,” I mused.

   When I got back up to my room, I realized she left her backpack and groaned. She would have to learn to be more responsible if she was going to survive more than a week here. So, I grabbed my purse and her backpack before traipsing the campus. Fortunately, Emma had texted me her dorm information before she got on campus.

   “In case of an emergency,” she’d insisted.

    The freshman dorms were not as bad as I remembered them but I cringed at a few musty speedster jocks I crossed in the hallway. A brief premonition helped me duck to avoid an ice user’s power going out of control when I finally made it to Emma’s door. First, I rapped on the door three times.

    “Emma, it’s me, you really have to keep a better eye on your stuff!” I called.

     After a few seconds of no answer, I knocked again.

     “Seriously? I can’t always be looking after you,” I teased.

     Finally, the door swung open, revealing a pretty black girl with big brown eyes and long brown dreads that were pulled partly away from her face. Her eyes widened at me and I smiled.

     “Sorry, I’m looking for Emma, she left her bag in my----”

     Emma cut me off, appearing next to the girl, “I was wondering where that went, thanks!” She grabbed the bag from me.

    “Oh, uh, come in,” the girl said, stepping aside.

    I nodded and wandered further into their dorm. It was small, like most freshman dorms, but Emma’s side offered pops of color and coziness. The other side was more basic, probably because the girl just moved in.

   “Marie, this is Y/N, my best friend, Y/N, Marie,” Emma introduced as she plopped onto her bed.

    I turned to Marie and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

   She hesitated slightly before shaking my hand. “You too.”

  “Don’t worry, Marie, you’ll get used to her hotness,” Emma advised.

   My cheeks warmed as I whirled around to my friend. “Emma!”

   “It’s true!”

   The embarrassment floated in the pit of my stomach as I faced Marie, who looked somewhere between surprised and amused. “Sorry about her, she speaks without thinking.”

   “It’s okay. How do you two know each other?” Marie asked.

   “Her mom represents me,” Emma answered.

   “Oh.”

   “She’s the one who helped encourage me to make a YouTube channel and is helping me get into more commercials until my big break,” Emma continued.

   I sighed as I sat in Emma’s desk chair. “We’ve known each other since I was four and she was three.”

  “Do you want to be an actor too?” Marie asked.

   I shook my head. “I tried it when I was little but it wasn’t for me.”

   Emma’s eyes lit up and she sat up on her bed. “You should have seen her, she was so cute! She was that toddler in that one diaper commercial----”

   “Emma,” I softly begged.

    Marie laughed. “Now, I’m curious.”

    “Please don’t look it up, it’s not worth it anyway,” I insisted.

    Marie shrugged and sat on her bed. “My curiosity might get the best of me.”

    “Why did you have to mention that stupid commercial?” I whined at Emma, who laughed at my pain. “Anyway, what’s your major?”

     “Crimefighting,” Marie answered.

     I straightened up. “Me too.”

    “So, you’ve had classes with Brink? How is he? What’s he like?” Marie rambled.

    “Well, he’s really tough on first years and makes his tests almost impossible to pass,” I admitted.

     “Really?” Marie asked.

     “But, I can help you if you want; I did pretty well last year,” I offered.

     As soon as the words left my mouth, I questioned where they came from. Marie was a complete stranger, yet she was one of the easiest people to talk to. Normally, I stumbled over my words in front of new people, and this was…new.

    “That would be great, thanks,” Marie replied.

     Emma leaned forward. “Y/N, you are way too modest. She was in the top ten of the first years last year and she has a peer mentor and meets with Brink on a regular basis.”

     Marie snapped her attention to me. “Wait, what?”

     I shook my head. “She makes it sound more impressive than it is.”

    “No, I’m not; she hangs out with the Top Five all the time.”

    “Top Five?” Marie asked.

     Emma and I turned to her, stunned.

     “You don’t know what the Top Five are?” Emma asked slowly.

     Marie shook her head, growing tenser the longer we looked at her.

    “Godolkin ranks all the students based on their Q score, which is basically the strength of their powers, academics, and social media engagement. The Top One Hundred are the only ones published every day,” I explained.

   “And the Top Five are the only ones everyone really cares about since they’re the ones most likely to make it into the Seven,” Emma added. “It’s on the GOD U app.”

    “I don’t have a phone,” Marie admitted.

     Emma balked at her. “How have you gone this far in life without a phone?”

     Marie shrugged. “My parents wouldn’t let me have one.”

     “What about emergencies?” I asked.

     “Someone else always has one,” Marie countered.

     Something was off about her statement and I knew that if I focused on it long enough, I would get a premonition about her. However, I decided that it would be rude to do that in conversation and tabled it for later.

    “You’ll get through it,” I said.

    “So, what ranking are you, Y/N?” Marie asked.

    “Last I checked, I was number twenty,” I recalled.

     Marie and Emma’s eyes widened at me, and I shrunk a little under their gaze. It really was not that impressive considering how intense the nineteen other people above me were.

    “That’s amazing!” Emma cheered, leaping off her bed and hugging me.

    “How did that happen?” Marie asked gently.

     When Emma pulled away, I replied, “Well, right before summer break, I had a premonition about a case Brink had the class working on all year.”

    “You solved a crime?” Marie concluded.

     “I just helped with a tip,” I insisted.

    “Please, Y/N, don’t act like you haven’t solved cases before,” Emma stated.

     I narrowed my eyes at her and Emma smirked in reply. Marie held up her hands and shook her head.

    “Wait, as in plural?”

     “It’s really not a big deal. With all the forensics, psychology, and ethics classes you’ll take, you’ll be solving them too.”

      Marie looked unconvinced but did not push it. “So, what’s your ability? I’m sorry if that’s rude to ask.”

     “No, it’s fine. Future probability cognition, I can see potential outcomes for the future,” I explained.

     “That’s amazing,” Marie complimented.

      “Eh, a lot of times it means I get blurry images in my head but it’s helpful sometimes. What about you?”

      “Blood manipulation.”

       “Whoa, no offense, but that is such a supervillain power,” Emma thought outloud.

        “Emma!”

         “I said ‘no offense’!”

        Marie laughed. “It’s okay, I get why people would think that.”

       “Can you give us a demonstration?” Emma asked.

        Marie nodded and grabbed a switchblade from her cargo pants’ pocket. In a graceful motion, she cut one of her palms and held it out in front of her. Seconds later, a circle of blood floated in the air like water, swirling each way. Marie smiled at our expressions and the blood slowly flowed back in her palm and the mark healed.

       “That was awesome!” Emma cheered.

       “I think Brink will like you,” I added.

      “Thanks. I think it’s your turn, Y/N,” Marie said.

       I hesitated. “Well, mine is definitely not as impressive as yours and I can’t promise I’ll see anything…positive.”

     “That’s okay,” Marie insisted.

     “You can use me as a demonstration,” Emma offered.

     I turned to her and closed my eyes. My mind wandered to images of her face and the sound of her laugh. Eventually, I saw an image of her rolling around her dorm bed with some guy. Then, all of a sudden, she was small and---     “AAAH!” I jumped from my seat, both underclassmen looking at me confused.

     “Is it that bad?” Emma asked.

     My eyes looked everywhere but my best friend and my hands unconsciously flexed. “Whatever you do, do not bring a guy here in the future.”

   “You don’t want me to get laid?”

   “I don’t think you would want to experience what I just saw.” I shivered at the thought.

    “Have your powers made you respond like that before?” Marie asked.

     I nodded. “It’s rare, though, and I have help to get a handle on it.”

     Slowly, I sat down and focused on the orange circle rug on the floor. Suddenly, I wished Cate was there to wipe that premonition from my memory. My stomach churned and I swallowed thickly.

     “Oh, Marie, you have to come to the training with me today,” Emma announced.

      “What training?”

     “The Top Five have public training at the beginning of every year. This year, Luke Riordan is up first,” Emma explained with a grin.

       “Luke’s a big deal?” Marie asked.

       “Hell yeah, he’s number one!” Emma chastised.

        Marie turned to me. “Are you going?”

        I looked up at her and wondered if she seemed kind of hopeful. “No, I have to do rush tonight.”

      “On top of everything else, she is also the secretary of Si Chi, the top sorority on campus,” Emma bragged.

      “Wow, are you always this busy?” Marie asked.

     “Not always. Things calm down once rush is over.” My phone beeped in my bag and I grabbed it. “Speaking of which, I have to run and get ready.”

      “But you already look nice,” Marie commented.

      “Thanks, but I need to be up to Si Chi standards. Have fun at the training and Emma, please try not to act up too much.”

      “I can’t control what will happen once his clothes burn off.”

       “What?”        I shook my head. “I’ll see you around.”

    The next day, I was shocked awake by a series of texts from Emma.

          E: Emergency, pls come 2 my dorm.

         E: Srsly, Marie needs ur help.

    Immediately, I wondered my Marie would need my help. When I reached out to Emma last night, she was busy gushing over Luke and never mentioned any issues. Also, I didn’t see any posts about her on social media which calmed my nerves.

    After texting her I would be there soon, I slowly pushed myself to sit up in my head and pushed my silk sleep mask up over my scarf. Then, I meditated for a few minutes, breathing through all the chaotic thoughts and scenarios that included strangers and people that I knew. Just when my temples began to throb, I stopped and made my way into the en-suite bathroom.

   About thirty minutes later, Emma shoved her dorm room open and pulled me in. She was wearing a gray GOD U t shirt and matching shorts, her curly stuck up in random places.

   “Where the hell have you been?” she whispered.

   “I got here as soon as I could,” I defended. “What’s going on?”

    Marie stood from her desk, a deep frown on her face, and made her way towards us. “I’m not in any Crimefighting classes; it’s all performing arts!”

    I cocked my head to the side. “That’s weird. Can I see your schedule?”

   “It’s on my phone.” Emma handed it to me and I started scrolling through Marie’s schedule.

   “Did you register for any performing arts classes?” I asked.

   “No, I registered for all the first-year Crimefighting classes,” Marie insisted.

   The frustration was thick in her voice and I wondered what was keeping her from punching a hole in the wall.

   “Is there anything I can do?” Marie asked.

   “Sorry, I don’t know. I’ve never heard of this happening.” I paused for a moment and smiled. “But I might be able to help. I have a meeting with Brink today and if you come with me, I could introduce you and we could get this all figured out.”

   “Really? Do you know how it will go?”

   “Let me try.”

   I closed my eyes and focused on Brink, the Crimefighting building, and Marie. The images were as blurry as a Monet up close and all the audio was muffled as if everyone was speaking underwater. When I opened my eyes, I shook my head at Marie.

   “Looks like it’s up to fate,” I commented.

   Marie deflated and I did not know whether to comfort her or not.

   “I’m sending good vibes your way,” Emma offered.

   “Thanks, we’ll need it,” Marie replied.

    As much as I wanted to push back, I did not like not knowing how this would turn out. My heart drummed in my ears later that day as we walked to the Lamplighter building. At the very least, the sun was beaming on everything, making Godolkin look shinier than usual. It was the perfect day for the white cherry-printed sundress and denim jacket I wore with platform white sandals. My braids flowed freely around me under the cool breeze.

   When we walked into the building, I let out the breath I did not know I was holding in.

   “You okay?” Marie asked.

   “Yeah, why?” I replied.

   “Your heart rate picked up,” she observed.

    I paused and looked at her. “You can hear my heartbeat?”

   She nodded. “Sorry, I know that’s kind of weird.”    “Nothing’s weird at this school but, that’s good to know,” I assured.

   I made a mental note to be more intentional in meditation as I led Marie to Brink’s office. The Lamplighter building was practically empty since most students were sleeping off hangovers. However, Jordan Li wasn’t most students and was at their usual post, the desk outside of Brink’s office, eyes focused on their laptop. They were in their feminine form, hair slicked back in a low ponytail.

   A small smile etched its way on my glossed lips at the sight and I turned to Marie, whose eyes widened at Jordan.

  “Let me do the talking,” I whispered.

  “Sounds good,” she answered, nodding.

  As soon as we got in front of Jordan’s desk, I waved my hand in front of their face to no avail. With no choice, I grinned as I slammed my hands on the desk and called their name. Immediately, Jordan jumped in their seat, yanking their earbuds out as they exclaimed an expletive.

    I laughed as they rolled their eyes at me.

   “Seriously, freshie?” Jordan commented.

   “You can’t call me that anymore, I’m a sophomore,” I sang.

   “It doesn’t have the same ring to it,” Jordan teased.

    My cheeks warmed at their words and I gripped my Longchamp tote closer to me in an attempt to get a grip on myself.

   “By the way, I loved your little dance from last night,” Jordan added.

   “You saw that?” I rasped.

   “Rushtok is so big that no one can escape it.” Jordan glanced at their laptop. “You’re early, as usual.”

   “I like to be punctual but, I also have someone who might be your new favorite freshman,” I replied.

    “Impossible,” Jordan scoffed.

     I nodded to Marie, who slowly moved to stand next to me. “This is Marie Moreau. Marie, this is Jordan Li, Brink’s TA.”

    Jordan glanced at Marie, a smirk disappearing from their face. “Hi.”

    “Hi, it’s so nice to meet you. You’re so awesome; your powers are incredible,” Marie confessed.

    Jordan smirked. “I’m glad I impressed a freshman.”

    Marie looked taken aback and glanced at me.

   “I brought Marie with me since there’s been a mix-up. She applied for Crimefighting but she’s in all the performing arts classes. So, I was thinking that you’d be able to help,” I explained.

    Jordan looked back at their laptop and started typing again. “I know, I’m the one who rejected her.”

   Their words hung in the air and I could feel a lump starting to form in my throat. As smart as Jordan was, they were either unaware of how deeply their bluntness could cut or they did not care. After knowing them for a year, I began to lean toward the latter.

   “What?” Marie muttered.

   “Why?” I questioned.

   “She has no social media presence and, even though her scores are decent, she needs a following,” Jordan rattled.

   “Isn’t that a little biased? Do you know what her powers are? If you knew, I think you would be open to making an exception,” I argued gently. “Besides, she can still get a following online. With her face, it will take no time.”

    As soon as the comment left my mouth, I froze. I had no idea why I said that, maybe Emma’s tendencies had rubbed off on me.

    “Sorry, the decision’s final.” Jordan did not sound apologetic at all and I thought I saw them trying not to smirk again.

   “You can’t do that. Let me talk to Professor Brink,” Marie requested.

  “There’s no point, he leaves all admission decisions to me,” Jordan said. “You should learn from your friend. Y/N here has ten million followers across her social media and solved the Glasgow Ripper case and a twenty-year-old cold case before she got here.”

   Marie whirled around to me. “You solved the Glasgow Ripper case?”

   “I just gave them a tip and it was supposed to be anonymous,” I muttered.

    “Nothing is anonymous with Vought,” Jordan countered. “Plus, you led them to key evidence.”

    “They would have solved it…eventually,” I admitted.

   Based on my original estimate, it would have taken them three years and I always felt horrible whenever they showed the victims’ families on the news. The tension in the space was thick as Jordan and Marie glared at each other. I wracked my brain for something, anything to say.

   Fortunately, Brink took care of the tension when he burst out of his office, gun in hand, and shot at Jordan. Marie yelped as Jordan switched to their male form and absorbed the shot.

   “Wow, every time,” Brink admired.

   “If you keep it up, I’m going to run out of shirts, sir,” Jordan replied, smiling.

    Brink turned to Marie and me. “Oh, Y/N, you’re here, early as always.”

    “Hi, Professor Brink. How was your summer?” I asked.

    “Busy. And yours?”

    “Good. Um, Professor, I don’t want to take too much of your time, but this is Marie Moreau and there was a mix-up with her schedule,” I started.

    Professor Brink nodded and turned to Marie. “Is that so?”

    Marie quickly explained the dilemma, narrowing her eyes at Jordan but was able to stay as calm and professional as possible. I glanced at Professor Brink’s expression and while he looked pleasant, I dreaded his words.

   “Well, if Jordan rejected you, that’s final. I trust their judgment,” Professor Brink affirmed. “You can serve as a hero in many ways; Crimefighting is a select group of students who show high aptitude in several areas. That does not mean anyone else is less valuable. Maybe we will see you on Dancing with the Stars one day.”

   Marie’s face fell and her body tensed. I might have started crying if I was in her position but her eyes stayed dry. I gently put my hand on her shoulder.

   “We’ll figure something out,” I muttered.

   She did not look convinced and as I politely followed Brink into his office, I prayed that I would get some sort of helpful premonition. Then again, why did I want to help this girl? I knew her for less than twenty-four hours. Nothing was making sense.

    Later that day, I practically ran a hole into my bedroom floor as I ruminated over my next steps. My meeting with Brink was unremarkable and I couldn’t stop thinking about how to get Marie into crim. She was obviously a strong hero in the works, even if Jordan didn’t see it. One way to help would be to get her into a decent house on campus since that was one of the only viable routes outside of making it into the Top 100 to get noticed on campus. However, Marie did not strike me as the sorority type.

    Then again, I could help her with donors at fundraisers since they loved throwing their money to make themselves feel better. As I thought, my mind somehow circled back to Jordan. It was fun getting a rise out of them after everything last year. They were not as rude to me as they were to Marie, but they were still terrifying last year. They always had a critique for someone and had reduced numerous kids to tears before the first semester ended. Somehow, I impressed them last year and they started being nicer to me. It probably also did not hurt that I had befriended Cate.

    “Ugh, it’s hopeless!” I huffed, plopping onto my bed.

    Even when I tried to get premonitions, there was nothing helpful; just Jordan and Marie arguing while I attempted to settle things.

    What was this year turning into?

      My phone rang, jolting me from my thoughts, and I answered without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”

    “Do you have any rush shit tonight?” Cate asked.

    I sat up and eyed her in the video call. “No, all the presidents and VPs are meeting tonight so we’re on our own.”

   “Great, so you’re free to go out with us,” Cate concluded with a grin.

  My heartbeat picked up at the thought of going out with Cate and the others. Any time I went out with them always ended in an interesting story, from the time Cate got us all out of a really embarrassing ticket to the time Andre and Luke drunkenly dueted “Never Gonna Give You Up” in a Korean karaoke bar.

  “I know that face, you’re thinking too much,” Cate warned.

  “Not in a bad way, in a good way. Where are we going?”

  “Don’t worry, just wear something hot and meet us in the parking lot at ten.”

  “Okay.”

  I hung up and set the phone on my dresser. Maybe this would help me clear my head or get me out of my head. Sometimes the thoughts could be suffocating but I would get a break tonight. I closed my eyes and wondered what would happen tonight. Slowly, clear images of a dark club and the sound of a thumping bass flooded my mind. The club was crowded but I saw myself dancing with Cate and…Marie?

[gomzdrawfr]

Bear with me here I am going to word vomit of an AU I thought of (and I literally just woke up) Idk if I have the time to write, draw or even animate this bUT

A ghostprice au where Price goes blind

Here’s a scene I had in my head, imagine a blackout panel, with a typewriting sound effect in the back that reads:

Patient Information: Johnathan Price, birth date, weight, height, number, address (something along those lines which are meant to hint this is a beginning of a medical record)

and then white blurry speech bubbles appearing from left and right

“What?”

You voiced out, or rather, Price voiced out (you are in Price’s POV)

All the speech bubbles seized, and for a moment it’s just darkness and much quieter whispers

“…Laswell?”

“John, you’re up, easy now”

He hears her from his left, but still there’s total darkness, and he furrows his brows, hands slowly reaching up to pat his face, or scratch it— there’s nothing on his skin, so he’s not being blindfolded, and there’s no sac or bag covering his head— but there is layers of something covering his eyes that he tries to pull off, managing to peek through a bit, he thinks he’s opening his eyes but—

Still black

“…?”

And then we cut to a shot of Ghost’s face, eyes wide with realization that Price can’t see anymore.

The last panel reads:

“Diagnosis: Traumatic Optic Neuropathy” (aka vision loss”

- end of scene

More rambles:

Thinking about maybe from a mission an IED went off before anyone could react— well technically Price reacted first by pulling Ghost away, which resulted in direct exposure to the blast, followed by a concussion

Ghost immediately got on his feet and dragged Price away while also making sure all units were still available, he looks down and he sees laceration and red

Well okay I haven’t figure out the clinical part but Im thinking maybe some blood pools around the corner of Price’s eyes (if, say, the laceration cut across his eyelids), it wouldn’t be as dramatic to the point where there’s blood trickling down his eyes per see cuz Idk if I plan to make the shrapnel penetrate into the cornea (in this case it would be extremely severe cause of trauma, I shall have some mercy on him)

Maybe amongst the panic he saw how Price’s left eye slowly turned red (internal bleeding) and all his alarms went off and quickly get medical on it

Of course he was praying that it wasn’t as serious, maybe it was superficial and maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him cuz it was dark and the hallway had red lamp all over

Also i just realized this is prob quite inaccurately portrayed bcuz the bandages that covers the eyes are usually tightly sealed, and that his action of ripping them off is prrrobbaaably not good since infections and increasing the pressure around his eyes are just going to make this worse (like reopening sutures or whatnot) but i think it could work (shhh ✨fiction science✨)

But nope, Price is blind, and that automatically puts him unfit for service and Ghost knows that this isn’t going to go well for the man

We always joked around saying Price is old but imagine if he’s mid 30s, prime in his years and definitely still had a lot of kick in him— only to be forcefully ripped away from it

The devastation, the angst, the anger, the unfairness of it all, the never ending cycle of guilt from both Ghost and Price

DO U FEEL IT?!

Anyways *ah hem* if you’ve read this far and would be interested to develop this yourself whether with fic or art go ahead! I sure as hell won’t be able to bring out the sheer desperation and agony from this sort of au or story so yeah XD

[simplygojo]

The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 12

Authors Note: Alright guys I got a bit carried away with this chapter, that's why i'm posting it so late IMSORRY! But this is my version of the beach episode-except its a pool, lol. I hope you've all been well, I'm super excited for these upcoming chapters...I hope you are too! luv u all <3 Also my bad bc I did not edit this at all

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary : After a very angsty night due to all the events of the day prior, Gojo takes you to a hotel before heading to the Gojo estate for a while to sort things out and go someplace safe. Little do you know—its a nice ass hotel, and he's brought along a surprise.

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: good times, fluff, pool party! mild angst

Taglist: @mawhoreagaa; @peqch-pie; @blue-serendipity; @simplyyyuji; @starrnai; @sorcerersseestars; @n1vi; @angryglitterperfection; @krak-jj; @coweringbear; @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni; @cococola-cocaine; @sdv98o; @theendx888; @dvmb4ssbiatch; @sugxryratz; @kinny-away; @crankyarchives; @enfppuff; @nanamisrighthand; If you’d like to be added to the series tag list, leave a comment below:)

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The hum of the car blends with the city’s distant sounds as the sleek black vehicle zips through Tokyo’s streets. 

You glance at Gojo in the driver’s seat, one hand casually resting on the steering wheel while he taps a rhythm with the other. He's unusually quiet, a sly smile tugging at his lips like he's savouring some inside joke.

You can’t help but give him a curious look. “You’re being suspiciously quiet, Gojo.”

He grins, his eyes hidden behind his trademark sunglasses. 

“Suspicious? Me? No, no. I’m just soaking up the atmosphere. You’ll see why soon enough.”

“Atmosphere?” You echo, eyeing the cityscape flashing by the window. “We’re just going to a hotel. Right?”

“Oh, we’re going to the hotel, thank you very much,” he says, giving you a conspiratorial look. “Only the best. You’ll get it when we get there.”

You shake your head, wondering what he’s got planned. With Gojo, there’s always a fifty-fifty chance of something extravagant or completely chaotic. 

"Oh, come on. I know you’re excited. You deserve a little luxury, and besides—" he pauses for dramatic effect, "—we’re going all out." 

He makes a finger-gun gesture at you like this whole thing is part of some elaborate game he’s running, and you roll your eyes.

Before you can press him for more details, the car takes a sharp turn, and your jaw drops as you take in the hotel in front of you. 

It’s towering, sleek, and wrapped in glistening glass panels that reflect the city lights back out in shimmering fragments. 

The whole place screams opulence.

As Gojo pulls up to the grand entrance, a flock of impeccably dressed bellhops practically materializes to greet the car. One of them opens your door with a polite bow, while two more appear on Gojo’s side, ready to relieve you both of your bags.

You step out, blinking at the scene. “I thought we were just staying here for the night, not moving in.”

Gojo slides out of the driver’s seat, tossing his sunglasses into the car before he gives you an exaggerated shrug. 

“Why would we settle for ‘just a room’?” He grins, then gestures toward the lobby’s gilded doors. “Come on, you’re gonna love this.”

He leads you inside, where a glistening chandelier illuminates the lobby, bathing the space in golden light. 

You’re still in awe when he presses the button for the top floor, and you side-eye him with a mix of intrigue and suspicion. “Just what exactly are we walking into?”

“You’ll see,” he says, winking. “Trust me.”

You smile but roll your eyes. His playfulness is a great distraction from the nerves that had been simmering just below the surface all day. 

The moment Gojo had suggested a night out before heading to his place, you'd felt a mix of anticipation and unease. 

Spending time alone with him, away from the academy, made you wonder what he had planned. Gojo always had that unpredictable edge—one moment, he'd be serious, focused, even a bit mysterious, and the next, he'd be grinning with that mischievous sparkle in his eye, as if he’d just thought of the world’s greatest prank.

The elevator ride up feels endless, the anticipation building as the numbers climb higher and higher. 

The elevator ride up feels endless, the anticipation building as the numbers climb higher and higher. 

You glance at Gojo, who’s sporting a smug grin, hands casually in his pockets, looking all too pleased with himself. 

Just as you open your mouth to ask what exactly he’s dragged you into, the elevator chimes, and the doors slide open.

A loud “SURPRISE!” nearly makes you jump out of your skin.

Standing in the hallway, dressed in fuzzy robes, are Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi. Yuji’s grinning from ear to ear, holding up a peace sign; Nobara looks smug, clearly revelling in the shock on your face, and Megumi’s leaning against the wall, attempting to act as if he’s above all this, though even he’s stifling a small smile.

Gojo raises his hands as if presenting a grand prize. 

“I couldn’t leave them out of the fun! What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t bring the whole team?” He winks at you before throwing an arm around Yuji. 

“Besides, I rented out the entire top floor! Each of you gets your own room, fully stocked, premium everything. And don’t worry,” he adds, turning to you with a grin, “I made sure we have a connected suite so I can keep an eye on you.”

Nobara smirked, folding her arms as she gave you and Gojo a knowing look.

“Ohhh, a connected suite, huh? Gotta keep an eye on her, orrrr…?” She raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence but clearly enjoying your flustered reaction.

Yuji snickers, nudging Megumi. “Yeah, totally for ‘safety,’ right? Good thing we’re all here to keep you two in line,” he says, barely stifling his laughter.

Gojo just rolls his eyes, though he’s clearly amused by their suggestion. 

“Exactly. I wouldn’t trust any of you to keep from causing chaos without proper supervision,” he says, ruffling Yuji’s hair. “Besides, who says I’m not keeping an eye on all of you?”

You try to brush off the teasing, but Nobara’s grin only widens. “Sure, sure, Gojo-sensei. Whatever you say,” she sings, clearly not buying his excuse.

You feel the heat rising to your face, and Gojo’s only response is a wink in your direction, as if to say, Let them think what they want.

Nobara claps her hands together in delight. “I knew this wasn’t just gonna be a ‘simple night out.’ You’re really spoiling us, sensei!”

Yuji bounces over, nudging you with a conspiratorial grin. “Gojo-sensei said there’s room service and a rooftop pool!”

“Oh, and karaoke,” Nobara adds, her eyes gleaming as she nudges Megumi. “We’ll find out if our ‘Mr. Cool’ here has any hidden talents.”

Megumi sighs, folding his arms and glaring half-heartedly at Gojo. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as the whole scene unfolds. Gojo gives you a smug grin, clearly revelling in his grand reveal.

Gojo gives a dramatic sigh, as if their surprise is the greatest validation he’s ever received. 

“You all deserve a night to unwind—just make sure not to destroy anything. I promised management we’d behave,” he says, looking pointedly at Nobara, who immediately rolls her eyes.

Gojo claps his hands together, grinning as if he’s just announced the party of the century. 

“Alright, troops! Meet me at the rooftop pool in twenty minutes. Swimsuits are in your rooms—yes, I thought of everything.” He flashes a look that’s somehow both playful and utterly smug.

Yuji pumps a fist in the air, already halfway down the hall. “Race you there!”

Megumi groans, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “As long as you don’t start cannonballing the second you get there.”

Nobara tosses her hair, giving Gojo a cheeky salute. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to keep everyone in line,” she says with a smirk aimed your way.

Gojo chuckles, then turns to you, offering his arm. 

“Shall we, partner?” He tilts his head toward the suite, a glint in his eye that suggests this might be just the beginning of his elaborate surprises for the night.

Looping your arm through his, you walk together down the plush, carpeted hallway. When you reach the end, Gojo swipes the keycard and opens the door to a sprawling suite that practically glows with opulence.

He gestures dramatically, like he’s unveiling a masterpiece. “Behold—your palace for the night.”

Stepping inside, you take in the stunning view of Tokyo’s skyline from the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room itself is a blend of sleek modern design and luxurious comfort, with plush seating, a massive bed, and a mini-bar that’s practically overflowing. You’re still processing it all when Gojo nudges you toward the far wall.

“Best part’s over here,” he says, sliding open a frosted glass door halfway to reveal a small passage that connects to his suite next door.

Gojo slides the frosted glass door open with a flourish, revealing a narrow passage leading into his suite. 

He taps the glass, grinning like he’s showing off a masterpiece. “See? Practically paper-thin. If anything happens, I’ll be right there in an instant.”

You smirk, crossing your arms. “And by ‘anything,’ you mean…?”

He feigns innocence, his eyes wide but gleaming with mischief. 

“Oh, you know, emergencies.” He taps his chin as if thinking it over. “Like, if you forget how to work the TV or you need someone to fetch you snacks…or I get bored.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “So, the real reason you set this up is to play hero over a snack shortage?”

He leans in just a bit closer, his voice dropping playfully. “Maybe I just didn’t want you to feel alone. It’s a big, fancy hotel, after all.”

You let out a small laugh, amused. “You really think you’re that charming, huh?”

“Hey, just looking out for you,” he quips back with a wink.

Just then, you hear a loud crash from the hall, followed by Yuji shouting, “Megumi! Nobara! Help! The snack cart’s tipping!”

Gojo sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes. “And there they go, ten seconds in.”He jokes, already heading toward the door. 

“But really—twenty minutes at the pool. Don’t let me be the only one in a ridiculous inflatable.”

With one last smirk, he disappears, leaving you alone in the lavish space. 

—

You sit there in the stillness of the room, letting the quiet settle around you. After everything that’s happened today, the silence feels jarring—almost unnatural. 

Your mind races back to that morning, the instant shock of recognizing the man in your nightmares: Suguru Geto. 

Even now, the thought sends a shiver down your spine. And to think he’d actually been in your room…watching, lingering right there. Just hours ago, you’d been consumed by fear and dread.

And now? 

Gojo’s acting as if none of it matters, whisking you and the others off to a luxury hotel like this is just another day. 

Maybe he’s just trying to help you escape it all, you reason. Maybe he wants you to relax, to have one night where you don’t have to look over your shoulder. It’d be… surprisingly thoughtful of him.

But as much as his carefree, reassuring presence feels good now, that doesn’t ease the confusion swirling in your mind. 

You and Gojo shared a heated moment that felt so vivid, so intensely real, it left you breathless. For a second, it seemed as though something unspoken had finally surfaced. 

And then, just like that, he pulled away. He put up that huge wall between you, cold and unreadable—as if he regretted every second.

Yet somehow, over the last two days, that distance seems to be fading again. And then there was that conversation with Nanami–There’s a warmth in his eyes, a kind of ease in his smile that makes it feel like you’re finally seeing the real Gojo. 

You can’t help but wonder if he’s going through his own uncertainties. Or maybe he’s as good at hiding his fears as he is at conjuring his charm.

With a sigh, you glance at the sliding door connecting your room to his, the thin glass a reminder of how close he really was.

—

You step onto the rooftop, the night sky sprawling endlessly above, lights from the Tokyo skyline flickering like distant stars.

The pool area is beautiful and sleek, lined with lounge chairs and the faint glow of soft, underwater lights casting a tranquil ambiance over the water. 

A cool breeze brushes over your skin, and you clutch the towel draped over your shoulders, pulling it a little tighter as you take in the scene.

Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara are already in the pool, laughing and splashing around.

Yuji hollered something to Megumi, who responded with his usual half-hearted irritation, and Nobara just rolled her eyes, enjoying herself despite her feigned annoyance. 

Standing by the edge of the pool, Gojo is stretching in his swim trunks, clearly ready to dive in.

When his gaze lands on you, his grin widens, his expression teasing.

"Thought you'd never make it," he calls over. 

"Gonna get in, or are you just here to supervise?" He gestures to the inflatable swans bobbing cheerfully in the water, a little ridiculous against the upscale backdrop of the rooftop pool, yet perfectly fitting his playful style.

As you walk toward him, you can’t help but notice that without his usual layers and long coat, he looks somehow...different—broader, the play of muscles over his arms and chest clearly defined. 

You’d always known he was strong, but seeing him like this gives you a fresh appreciation for just how powerful he really is.

His confidence radiates off him, casual and effortless, and when he catches you looking, he smirks in a way that makes your cheeks warm.

Rolling your eyes to cover up your reaction, you nod toward the pool. "Just waiting for the right moment to make an entrance," you say, giving him a smirk of your own.

He chuckles, tossing you a wink before raising his arms to dive. With a graceful, fluid motion, he springs into the pool, slicing through the water smoothly before resurfacing.

His hair, now wet and falling into his face, gleams under the soft pool lights, and there’s a hint of smug satisfaction on his face as he shakes the water out, blinking at you with mischief in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you slip off your towel and drape it over one of the lounge chairs, walking confidently to the edge of the pool before sliding in, the cool water washing over your skin as you wade toward the others.

The water is refreshing, soothing away the last remnants of tension from the day.

Your swimsuit, black and simple, hugs your body perfectly. The fabric conforms to your curves, and as the water slicks your skin, it only highlights the way the suit fits you. 

Despite your attempts to focus on the others, you can feel Gojo’s eyes on you, as if nothing else in the world exists except for you at that moment. 

The way his gaze moves over your body is undeniable, like he’s studying the way your swimsuit fits, the way your body moves with the water. 

His attention lingers, tracing the curve of your waist, the way your hips shift as you move, and the way the wet fabric clings to your chest. His eyes travel the length of your legs as they move beneath the surface, the water shimmering as it follows the lines of your form.

Yuji immediately waves at you and grins once he notices you got in the water. 

"Hey! Come over here! I’ve gotta show you something." He hands you a bright blue pool noodle, his eyes sparkling with childlike enthusiasm. 

“This is the best way to mess with people.” Demonstrating, he dunks one end of the noodle into the water, then blows into the other end, sending a stream of water splashing directly at Megumi.

You laugh, following his lead and getting a quick splash aimed right at Yuji’s shoulder.

The two of you quickly descend into a playful back-and-forth, aiming noodle streams at each other and dodging around with exaggerated, dramatic dives as if you’re in some kind of slow-motion water fight. 

Yuji, laughing so hard he’s nearly choking, gives you a high-five as you successfully splash him.

Meanwhile, on the edge of the pool, Gojo has been watching you, an amused smile tugging at his lips as he takes in the way you laugh, splashing water at Yuji with unexpected ease. 

He watches how your hair, damp now from your battles with Yuji, falls in wet strands down your back, the water pooling around your shoulders as it drips down your neck.

The delicate shine of your skin catches the light, droplets of water trickling down your arms and over your collarbone.

There’s something almost soft in his gaze, as if he's seeing a side of you that surprises him—or maybe just one he’s glad to witness. 

His eyes linger on you, trailing over the graceful curve of your shoulders, the way the water smooths over your skin.

But Nobara, noticing his attention as she floats past on her hot pink floatie, is quick to break him out of his reverie. 

She splashes a handful of water his way, hitting him right in the face. "Stop gawking!" she scolds, a playful edge to her tone.

Gojo blinks, taken by surprise. His mouth opens to protest, but he only laughs, flicking some water back in Nobara’s direction. 

"Hey, can’t a guy admire his...team?"

She rolls her eyes, unimpressed. "Yeah right," she teases, her gaze flicking from you to Gojo with a knowing grin.

Unaware of the exchange, you continue splashing with Yuji until you’re both out of breath, leaning against the side of the pool to catch your breath. 

The cool water, the laughter, the lightheartedness—it’s all a welcome distraction, an unexpected reprieve from the day’s earlier revelations.

Only moments after you had stopped your pool noodle battle, Yuji gets out of the pool and walks over to the deep end, stretching his arms out in front of him before taking a big jump into the deep end.

He swims back over to you and Megumi, Gojo approaching also as he sat goofily on a pool noodle. "Alright, your turn y/n! Think you can dive like me?"

You pause, looking at the water with a hesitant smile. "Well... I don’t know...I don’t really remember if I’ve ever swam before…" you reply, your voice trailing off, unsure of your own abilities.

Yuji smirks, his energy contagious. “Come on, I bet you could! Just try it, you’ve got this!”

With his encouragement ringing in your ears, you take a deep breath and walk up the pool steps towards the deep end.

Once at the end, you crouch slightly, preparing for the dive, but as soon as you push off the edge and your head hits the water, everything changes.

The moment your body submerges, the water feels different—like it's not just water, but a veil lifting. 

A flood of memories crashes over you, sharp and overwhelming. You see yourself as a child, your hair slicked back just like it is now, diving into a pool. 

Your little sister is beside you, laughing, urging you on as you practice your dives together. You can almost feel the warm sun on your back, hear the splashing of the water, the excitement in her voice. 

The sound of your family in the background, their voices calling you to take your time, to perfect your dive.

For a second, it’s like everything else falls away. 

It’s just you, in the water, in the past, with your family, laughing, swimming. It’s such a real and intimate memory, you can almost smell the chlorine, taste the fresh air as it mixes with the feeling of the pool beneath your feet.

You break the surface of the water with a gasp, the moment leaving you breathless. Your heart pounds in your chest, and as you come up, you can't help but grin widely, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

“I used to swim! I remember I used to swim!” The words spill out before you even realize you’ve said them, and there’s a moment of shock in your voice as you come to terms with what just happened.

The flood of memories, so vivid, so real, feels like a key turning in your mind. For the first time, pieces of your past—pieces you never thought you'd get back—are falling into place.

As you break through the surface of the water, your heart races, and you let out a breathless laugh, the exhilaration of the moment overwhelming you. Your eyes are wide, sparkling with newfound joy, and your chest swells with the excitement of what you've just discovered.

“I used to swim! I remember I used to swim!” you exclaim again, your voice still carrying the shock and wonder of the realization.

Yuji, treading water nearby, blinks in surprise. "Huh? What? You used to swim?"

Megumi lifts his head from the water, his brow furrowed in confusion, trying to process what you’ve just said. “Wait, you… you remember swimming?”

Your grin is bright, the flood of memories still fresh in your mind. “Yeah! I do! I remember my sister... we used to go to the pool together. We practiced diving, and... I remember the sound of her laughing, and... the smell of the chlorine... I had a sister. I—” You pause, the weight of your own words sinking in, as if the mere mention of her name makes her presence feel real again.

The group is quiet for a second, taking in the significance of what you’ve just shared. You’ve gotten a piece of yourself back—something so personal and meaningful. Yuji’s face lights up with enthusiasm, his voice warm and full of excitement.

“That's amazing, y/n!” He calls out, grinning like it’s his own personal victory. “You’re remembering things! That’s huge!”

Nobara, floating past on her hot pink floatie, claps her hands together. “Yeah, that’s a big deal! You’ve got some real memories back. That’s progress, y/n!”

Megumi, though usually a bit more reserved, offers a small but genuine smile, clearly happy for you. “Good to hear. That's a step in the right direction.”

Gojo, standing in the middle of the shallow end with his arms folded, lets out a deep breath, his usual playful demeanour giving way to something more sincere. 

“See? I told you you were making progress. You’ve got more memories waiting for you. I knew you had it in you.”

Your heart swells at their reactions, the collective happiness of your friends filling you with warmth.

For the first time in a while, you feel like you’re not entirely lost, like there are pieces of your past coming back to you, one fragment at a time.

“I remember my sister,” you repeat, as if saying it again makes it more real. "I can't believe it... I have a sister."

The group looks at each other, nodding and sharing quiet smiles. You can feel their support, their belief in you. It’s not just a small step—it’s a breakthrough.

And as you stand there in the pool, surrounded by people who care, you realize that even though you don’t have all the answers yet, you’re moving forward. 

You’ve gained something tonight, something that was yours all along.

Gojo, his playful smile returning, gives a nod of approval. “Alright, y/n, looks like we’ve got a swimmer in the group now. You’re on your way to being a full-fledged diver.”

The others laugh, and the mood shifts back to its usual lightheartedness. But for you, there’s something deeper now—something that’s been restored. Your past, your memories, are slowly coming back, and with them, you’re beginning to understand more about who you are.

And for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel so alone in the dark.

—

The soft click of the suite door closing behind you echoed in the quiet space, and you exhaled, letting the weight of the day settle on your shoulders. The room was as extravagant as before, but its opulence felt distant, secondary to the whirl of thoughts in your mind.

You couldn’t help it but your mind drifted back to that conversation you had overheard between Gojo and Nanami just a few days ago.

Their words replayed in your head, his voice low but insistent in that rare serious tone he used only when he meant something deeply.

“She doesn’t know how much I need her to be okay,’ Gojo had said, the tone of desperation evident in his voice. 

‘Then let her see it,” Nanami had replied.

Shaking your head, you made your way to the bathroom, hoping a hot shower might help clear your mind.

The bathroom was a masterpiece of modern luxury, with sleek marble counters, gleaming fixtures, and a rainfall shower that looked more like a spa experience than a simple rinse.

You turned the water on, letting the heat build until steam clouded the glass walls. 

Peeling off your swimsuit, you stepped under the cascade of water, the warmth instantly soothing your tense muscles.

For a few moments, the only sound was the steady rhythm of water hitting the tiles, a gentle white noise that filled the space.

You tilted your head back, letting the stream run over your face, down your back, carrying away the salt and chlorine and the weight of the day.

But no matter how soothing the shower was, your thoughts kept circling back.

‘She’s in my head—everywhere I look.’

Why had he said it with such conviction? Such quiet protectiveness? Gojo, for all his teasing and playful arrogance, had always seemed untouchable, always wearing that mask of flippancy. Yet in that moment, he’d sounded so... different.

Did he really feel that way? As someone worth fighting for? Or was it just Gojo being Gojo—throwing himself into situations out of principle, out of defiance against authority?

You sighed, resting your forehead against the cool tiles. The heat of the water contrasted sharply with the strange warmth blooming in your chest, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

And then there was the other side of it—the nagging confusion that came with Gojo himself. He was impossible to figure out, swinging between moments of genuine care and infuriating smugness. 

One minute, he was flirting shamelessly, his words laced with a confidence that made your head spin. The next, he was cool and distant, as if pulling back the moment things got too real.

But that moment with Nanami... It had felt real. Too real to ignore.

“Get a grip,” you muttered to yourself, running a hand through your wet hair.

You let the water run a little longer, hoping to wash away the lingering mix of confusion and... whatever else it was. 

Yet as you finally turned off the shower and stepped onto the heated tiles, wrapping a plush towel around yourself, you couldn’t shake the memory of his voice, or the strange, unspoken something it stirred in you.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t simple. And with Gojo, you doubted it ever would be.

As you walked back into your room, you noticed the folded pair of black silk pyjamas on the bed.

He really did think of everything…

—

After a while of reading one of the books you had brought, you were interrupted by a soft knock at the frosted glass door between your room and Gojos.

The knock at the frosted glass door was soft, but in the quiet of your room, it sounded louder than it should. 

You glanced up from the book in your lap, a little startled. Sliding off the bed, you made your way over and slid the door open.

There he was, Gojo, leaning lazily against the doorframe, his damp hair falling in soft tufts around his face. He looked more relaxed than usual, dressed in a plain white t-shirt and loose gray sweatpants, but his trademark grin was still firmly in place.

“Can’t sleep,” he said with a casual shrug, stepping inside as if it were his room.

“You never seem to,” you replied, stepping aside to let him in. 

“Should I be worried this is becoming a habit?”

He chuckled, making himself comfortable by sitting at the edge of your bed. “Nah, just thought I’d check in on you. See how you’re holding up after earlier.”

You folded your arms, leaning against the wall. “I’m fine. It’s nothing I can’t handle. But you—” You gestured toward him. “You look like you haven’t even tried to sleep. What gives?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “I just don’t sleep much. Don’t really need to.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unconvinced. “Yeah, but why not? You’ve got to get tired like everyone else, right?”

For a moment, he just looked at you, as if debating whether to answer. Finally, he let out a sigh, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s not that I don’t get tired. I just can’t sleep the way normal people do.”

You frowned, moving to sit beside him on the bed. “What do you mean?”

He glanced at you briefly before turning his gaze to the wide windows, the glittering city lights reflected in his eyes. 

“You know my Infinity technique,” he began. “It’s always on. Even when I’m not actively thinking about it, it’s working in the background, keeping me untouchable.”

You nodded, vaguely familiar with the concept from what you’d learned about cursed techniques.

“To keep it running all the time, I can’t let my mind completely shut off,” he continued. “Even when I sleep, part of me is still monitoring it, making sure it stays active. I’ve trained myself to sort of… half-sleep. But it’s not the same as real rest. Three, maybe four hours a night is all I can manage. Anything more, and I risk losing control of the technique.”

The weight of his words settled over you, heavier than you’d expected. “That sounds… awful,” you said quietly.

He gave a small, lopsided smile, but there was no humour in it. “It’s not ideal, but it works. And it keeps people safe, so… it’s worth it.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening at the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his voice. For all his teasing and bravado, there was a depth to him you were only just beginning to see. 

“Still,” you said softly, “it must be exhausting.”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But I’ve been doing it for so long, it’s just… part of who I am now.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you shifted your gaze to the windows, the city lights stretching endlessly into the distance.

“Do you ever miss it?” you asked after a moment.

“Miss what?”

“Being able to just… rest. No Infinity, no responsibilities, just being… you.”

He was quiet for a long time, his expression unreadable. “Maybe,” he said finally. “But it’s not like I have much of a choice. If I didn’t keep it on, people would get hurt. I can’t let that happen.”

You nodded, the quiet conviction in his voice striking a chord in you. “It’s a lot to carry,” you said softly.

He glanced at you, his usual smirk returning. “Are you trying to psychoanalyze me now? Because I’ve got to warn you, I’m a tough nut to crack.”

You rolled your eyes, relieved to see a hint of his usual self shining through. “No, I just think… maybe you should let someone else help you carry the weight every once in a while.”

He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Are you volunteering?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you shot back, though the warmth in his gaze made it hard to hold onto your feigned annoyance.

He chuckled, leaning back on his hands. “You’re pretty cute when you’re all serious, you know that?”

“Satoru,” you warned, though your tone lacked any real bite.

The playful edge in his chuckle faded as silence settled between you again. 

He leaned back, his hands propping him up on the bed as his gaze shifted back to the cityscape outside. You followed his line of sight, watching the lights twinkle like stars on the horizon.

But your mind wasn’t on the view. It was on him.

You thought back to all the moments you’d spent with Gojo since you met him—the way he carried himself, always carefree and teasing, as if the weight of the world didn’t touch him. 

Now, sitting here with him, you realized it wasn’t that the weight didn’t touch him. It was that he refused to let anyone see how much it did.

Your chest tightened again, a mix of sympathy and something else you couldn’t quite name. 

He wasn’t just Satoru Gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, the one who could take on anything and walk away unscathed. He was also just… a man. A man who carried more than anyone should ever have to, who never let himself rest because too much was at stake.

It made sense now, why he acted the way he did. The jokes, the cockiness, the endless energy—it was all a shield. 

A way to keep people from looking too closely, from seeing how much he gave up to be who he was.

And now, you had seen it.

Finally, you shifted slightly on the bed, pulling your legs up to sit cross-legged beside him. “I get it now,” you said softly.

He turned his head slightly, one eyebrow quirking up. “Get what?”

“Why you are the way you are,” you said, your voice low. 

“You’re not just… Satoru Gojo. You’re the Satoru Gojo. The strongest. The one everyone relies on. It’s like…” You hesitated, unsure if your words would sound foolish.

“Like what?” He prompted, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“It’s like you’re the sun,” you said finally. “Bright, untouchable. But no one ever thinks about how lonely it must be, burning that brightly all the time.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, he looked at you as if seeing you in a new light. “That’s poetic,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I’m being serious,” you said, nudging his arm lightly with your knee. “You carry so much, and you make it look effortless. But it’s not, is it? Effortless.”

He looked away, his gaze fixed on the glowing cityscape. “No,” he admitted. “It’s not.”

The quiet honesty in his voice made your chest tighten. 

You wanted to reach out, to tell him he didn’t have to bear it all alone, but you didn’t know how. Instead, you tucked your arms around your knees, leaning against the bedpost as you studied his profile.

“You don’t let people see this side of you often, do you?” you asked.

“Only on special occasions,” he replied with a smirk, though his voice lacked its usual teasing edge.

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow, lucky me. Should I feel honoured or concerned that I’m your VIP audience tonight?”

The faintest chuckle escaped him, and his smirk softened into something gentler. “A little bit of both, probably.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt heavy, like the room was holding its breath.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” you asked softly, breaking the quiet.

He didn’t look at you this time. “Tired of what?”

“Being you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “The strongest. The one everyone depends on.”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he let out a quiet laugh, but it wasn’t like his usual one. It was softer, more subdued. “I think if I let myself get tired of it, I wouldn’t be able to take it anymore.”

You frowned, the ache in your chest growing. “That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair,” he replied lightly, but his tone lacked its usual playfulness.

You shifted closer to him, your legs brushing against his. 

“You shouldn’t have to do it alone, though. Don’t you want something more out of life?”

His smile lingered, but he didn’t reply. 

Instead, he turned his attention back to the window, his eyes distant waiting for a few moments before speaking again. 

“It’s not about what I want,” he said finally. “It’s about what I can do. And what I can do… no one else can. It may not be fair, y/n, but its the way it is.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. Because he was right—for all the unfairness of it—he was right.

The quiet between you lingered, neither uncomfortable nor easy. 

The city lights reflected off the glass, painting faint patterns of gold and silver across the room. 

You wanted to say something, to push back against the resignation in his voice, but no words seemed fitting. What could you say to someone who carried the world and made it look effortless, even when it wasn’t?

Gojo leaned back slightly, resting his weight on his hands, his gaze distant but thoughtful. Finally, he exhaled, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. 

“You should get some sleep,” he said lightly, standing up and walking backwards towards the frosted glass door.”

“Big day tomorrow. The Gojo estate, bright and early. You’ll get to see the big mansion with no one living in it–well except us for a short while ‘till we get things figured out.”

“Sounds thrilling,” you said, your attempt at levity falling a little flat.

You sat there for a moment, staring at the space he’d just left. 

The weight of the conversation lingered in the air, a quiet reminder of just how much more there was to him than his usual carefree demeanour.

Finally, you let out a breath, sliding under the covers and curling up against the mattress. 

The faint patterns of light from the city still danced across the walls, but your eyes felt heavy now, your body sinking into the comfort of the bed.

As you drifted off, your thoughts lingered on his words—on the way he carried so much without complaint, on the rare vulnerability he’d let slip. 

Tomorrow would come, bright and early, but tonight, you let yourself hope that maybe, just maybe, you could ease even a fraction of the burden he carried.

Sleep found you, though not without the quiet echo of his voice following you into your dreams.