#like I want surround sound speakers because you know if you were standing there you could feel him speak

[little-shiny-sharpies]

God I love and am also so filled with thoughts that everyone here, the people in charge of all these powerful mages said “Yeah this is very bad but Kalecgos is on his way! We just need to hold out until he arrives.” Like you are actively losing this fight. This isn’t even really a fight you guys were absolutely ambushed and your camp was getting frosted and fried to hell and back this was a one way ass whooping. And you guys know this. But it’s fine Kalecs on his way just hide behind some rocks and cover the important bits of you. I’m just so intrigued with the inherent trust everyone here displays, “Kalec will show up because if he doesn’t we WILL die. but he won’t let that happen so just hunker down and shoot back!”

And then Kalec does. In fact. Arrive. Wiping the absolute floor with these things and fucking kills them immediately no hesitation like he just flew out and said “Death. You want it? it’s yours my friend” and fired a magic meteor storm and wiped them out keeping all his tiny mortal mages safe. Exactly what everyone knew he would do. Then he outright asks for help no hesitation and flies away. Like maybe it’s not that deep and I’m just gripping a shovel really hard over this quest design but it’s my blog and I get to talk about the interest. These people all trust him with their lives, Kalec knows this, Kalec is fully prepared to kill without hesitation to keep these people safe. Things that make me wanna go keep leveling my mage to see Kirin Tor stuff. My god.

[agent-cupcake]

Ulterior Motives

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f! student Reader

Synopsis: Gojo becomes a little bit infatuated with his bratty new student.

Warnings: Explicit smut, noncon, teacher/student relationship (reader is 18+), possessive behavior, manipulation

Tags: Spanking, panty gag, dacryphilia, dirty talk, vibrators, bondage, orgasm torture, bratty reader, humiliation

Word Count: 24.4k

Notes: This one is for ABanonymous, I hope you didn't mind the wait and I especially hope you enjoy the story. The title IS a reference and if you know, you know.

Next requested fic I will have out next Saturday, and that's a pinky promise.

“Is this seat taken?” 

Bored, a little tired, you turned your gaze up to the interloper with a rejection at the ready. You stopped at the cafe to warm up, you weren’t in the most social of moods.

But you didn’t say anything when you saw the speaker. Your lips were parted and ready, but the words puffed out as nothing more than air. There was something wrong about him. If you hadn’t been so utterly—perhaps even willfully—detached from your surroundings, you might have noticed sooner. 

It was a trick of yours. Good for interviews, social gatherings, and first impressions. Bad for relationships, communication, and your general interest in other people. The girl with long, straight hair ordering a brown sugar bubble tea was annoyed. The man behind her was texting someone, likely his paramour, because his bad mood was being soothed with excitement and lust. The female half of the couple behind you was excited, her male partner was bored. Those were things you knew. Things you sensed as intuitively as you interpreted sounds from vibrations and visuals from light. 

The tall, white-haired man standing above you wearing a dark uniform and white bandage over his eyes was a solid, unreadable wall. The energy surrounding him wasn’t emotional, it was manifested, strong bordering on physical and, most likely, very bad news. You looked around the cafe, searching for some further clues about this utterly bizarre stranger, but nobody else seemed especially interested beyond his odd appearance. You cleared your throat. 

“Excuse me, what?” you asked, composing yourself. 

“May I sit here?” he asked again, smiling.

This could be interesting. Or bad. You shrugged as if disinterested. “If you want to.” 

He took the seat across from you, his smile fixed in place. “Thank you, I can’t stand drinking alone.” 

“Of course.”

“I’m Satoru Gojo,” he said, undeterred by your unfriendly demeanor. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  

You introduced yourself in turn, smoothing your hair and hoping you didn’t look too terrible. Could he even see you? Somehow, you got the feeling he could, but it didn’t look like the bandage was mesh. 

“Did you hear about what happened at the City Central Library?” he asked, bracing his elbow on the table to cradle his head. “Nasty business.”

The words themselves were casual, but they left you with the same feeling as when you got caught sneaking out. That little pang of surprise, a stark interruption of suspense with panic and then a mental scramble as you tried to come up with a believable story that would get you out of trouble. 

Did he know? That made the most sense, otherwise it was odd that he’d ask. But if he did know, you had no idea how he could, and had no way to guess how much he knew.  

No response was worse than a bad one, so you fell back on the easiest and usually the most effective approach. “What happened?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows with a vacuously concerned expression. The kind of look that made it seem as if any question was so hopelessly complex, like the slightest problem was simply impossible for a girl as empty-headed as you to grasp. 

“There was a gas leak of some kind,” Gojo said, his mouth set into a contemplative line. A second later, that solemn expression melted into a mischievous half-smile. “Rather, that’s what the news will report. We know better, don’t we?”

You frowned, your head tilting to the side and eyes curiously wide. “We do?” 

“A curse manifested itself there. Nobody died, but it was close.”

“A curse?” you repeated slowly. “Are you talking about ghosts or something?” 

“Something like that.” 

You laughed, the light and ditzy airheaded kind of laugh. “Oh, come on. You’re teasing me, aren’t you.” 

“When we interviewed the receptionist at the library,” Gojo said, his casual demeanor unaffected by your act, “she mentioned a young woman who stopped by and warned her that something bad was going to happen.” 

“Oh?” 

“Actually, I have three accounts of people saying that they were contacted before an incident involving a curse occurred. One of the tips was anonymous, but the third was at a construction site. The manager said that a pretty young woman approached him and warned that the conditions would be hazardous and he needed to be very careful. He’s in the hospital now.” 

“That’s terrible,” you said, frowning. It was more of a pout, really.

Gojo pulled his phone out of his pocket. He clicked a few things on the screen—so he could see from behind the bandage, how odd—before holding it out for you to look at. It was security footage, presumably from the library. Although the quality was terrible, it didn’t take a genius to recognize that it was you in the video.  

“This is from yesterday,” he said. “A curse was exorcized at this library earlier today.” He turned the screen to look at his phone, looking between you and the footage with theatrical scrutiny. “This does look a lot like you.” 

“I don’t know who that is, but it can’t be me,” you said, pouting more. “I don’t even have a library card.”

“To be clear, I’m not accusing you of causing these incidents. If I thought you were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Gojo told you. He put his phone in his pocket, picking up his drink to mess with the straw. “How long have you been able to see them?” 

“See what?”

“Curses. Evil spirits, whatever you like to call them.” 

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide if you wanted to continue playing dumb. He obviously didn’t believe it. Besides, you were starting to get very curious about this strange not-blind man and the disconcerting amount of information he had about things he shouldn’t.

“As long as I can remember,” you finally answered, dropping the act. 

“Do they scare you?” he asked, as unconcerned with your shift in demeanor as he had been with everything else.  

“They’re definitely ugly,” you said. Gojo snorted in amusement at that. You looked down to consider a real answer, pushing the chunks of ice at the bottom of your cup around with the straw. “I’m not scared of them. They’re dangerous, but more like how a wild animal is dangerous.”

“Is that why you warn people?” 

You shrugged.

“Hmm,” he hummed, stroking his chin thoughtfully, staring at you through the bandage. It really was a creepy feeling. “Something still isn’t adding up. Sorcerers are more likely to come into contact with curses, but you’re not reacting to cursed activity; you’re predicting it. Moreover, the places who reported your warnings have no other connection. It’s unlikely that you were coincidentally nearby to feel the cursed energy.”

“Sorcerers?” you asked, continuing to push your straw around your cup idly, the ice crackling. 

“People who can see curses and manipulate cursed energy. You could also call them curse users. Of course, I don’t think you’re either. At least, not yet.” He gestured to you with his drink. “You’re avoiding the question.” 

“You didn’t ask me a question.”

“Didn’t I?” he asked with a frown. “Ah, whatever,” he waved it off dismissively. “How are you finding and predicting curses?” 

“I use a map,” you told him, like it was obvious. It was obvious to you, at least. 

“A map,” he repeated bluntly. Without any aura to read, you wished you could see his eyes at least.

“That’s usually how you find things, isn’t it?” 

“You’re saying that you have a map that tells you where curses will manifest?” 

“You’re asking a lot of questions,” you said. “I don’t think I should be talking so openly to a strange and mysterious man.”

“Mysterious? I told you, I’m Satoru Gojo,” he said, placing a hand on his chest. “I’m a jujutsu sorcerer and a teacher at Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School. If anything, you’re the strange one for going around cryptically warning people about evil spirits. ”

You narrowed your eyes at him, pursing your lips. The logical part of your mind rejected everything he was saying outright, it sounded made up. Then again, you knew there was some truth to what he was saying, even if the words he used were different than your own. The fact was, it seemed like he had more information than you. You didn’t like that. 

“You warn people about these curses in an attempt to protect them,” Gojo said, his tone softening a little as he tried to level with you, “but they never believe you, and so they get hurt anyway. Doesn’t that bother you?” 

You shrugged. “It does sound pretty ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Gojo said. “Nobody believes you see the things you see, or that you have a very special gift, but I do. If you tell me how you predict these curses, I’ll teach you how to take care of the problem yourself. More than that, I can teach you how to use your cursed energy to do things nobody else can.”

He had you on the line with that one, and he knew it. You didn’t have to be able to read his aura or look in his eyes to understand that smug grin. 

“I read once that mediums could perform a sort of dowsing technique with maps,” you said, giving in. “I’ve always had a knack for divination, so I tried it out. Even with my eyes closed and using different maps, I could reliably find and mark the same spot. It didn’t really turn out how I wanted it to though.” 

“How so?” 

“You’ve seen TV shows and videos about hauntings where ghost hunters dig up all kinds of scary and interesting stories, right? I was hoping it’d be like that. You know, exciting. Instead I marked a lot of schools and hospitals and that sort of thing.” 

“That makes sense,” Gojo said. “Curses tend to congregate in places like that.” 

“Well, I was disappointed. But then I started hearing news stories about people getting hurt in places that I marked on my map. I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want it on my conscience.” 

Gojo nodded thoughtfully. “This… dowsing ability, can you do it on purpose, or does it happen randomly?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“If I got you a map right now, could you mark places where a curse will manifest?”

“It depends on if there’s a place on the map where a curse will manifest,” you said.

Rather than get offended by your cheeky response, Gojo carried on. “Are there any locations you’re watching out for at the moment? Other than the library, I mean.” 

You considered that question. “I’ll tell you, but if this is for a TV show, I don’t consent to being on camera,” you said. “Not wearing this, at least.” 

He laughed. “This is not for a TV show,” Gojo said. “Although, if it was, I don’t know why you would need to change your clothes. You’re cute, the messy look is endearing.” 

“Ah, I guess you are blind after all,” you said imperiously, pulling out your phone to find the website of the other place you had marked. “There’s an antique shop. I don’t think anything has happened there yet. I tried calling, but the guy got angry. I guess lots of people try to claim things there are haunted to get a discount or something.” 

“Do you have the address?” 

“Yep, right… here-” You flipped the screen towards him. He peered at it for a second before smiling again.

“Oh, lucky! I know somebody who should be just nearby.” He pulled out his own phone, dialing a number.

“You said you exorcized the curse at the library,” you said, “will you do it there too?”

“If there’s a curse there, yes.” Gojo pressed call and put his phone to his ear. After a few rings, you heard a voice on the other end. The exchange was short, he gave the address and some words of encouragement. You couldn’t hear specifics, but it didn’t sound like the person was too pleased. 

“I don’t know for sure that something is there,” you said after he lowered his phone. 

“Have you ever been wrong?” 

“I haven’t followed through on every lead,” you said. “There are potentially dozens of times that I’ve been wrong.” 

“But all of the ones you’ve tracked have been correct, yes?” 

You smiled. “Yes.”

“What an interesting ability,” he cooed. “And you possess a respectable amount of cursed energy. I knew it. You should come to study to be a jujutsu sorcerer.”

“What?” 

“I told you that I could teach you how to use your abilities, didn’t I? You’re a bit old to be scouted, but everybody starts somewhere. I think you have the potential to be a great sorcerer.”

“You’re joking.” 

“Not at all.” 

“You said you teach high school, didn’t you?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. “I’m almost through my third year. It would be strange to transfer so late, I wouldn’t want to do anything to risk my graduation.”

“Do you have plans for after you graduate? Work? University?” 

“I’m going to study business.” 

“Really? You don’t strike me as the business type.”

You gave him a very flat look. “You don’t strike me as the teacher type.” 

Gojo laughed. “You got me there. I’m only saying that you go to university so you can get a job, right? If you study at Jujutsu Tech, you will have a guaranteed job upon graduation.”

“What kind of job?” 

“Exorcizing curses, saving the world, that kind of thing,” he said, waving his hand casually. “It’s not something many people can do, you know. You have to be a special mixture of brave and crazy to face curses knowing you could get hurt—knowing that others could get hurt if you fail. It’s tiresome, scary, and you very rarely see much of a reward.”

“You’re not exactly selling this.” 

“Really?” Gojo asked. “You look plenty interested to me. You don’t want to live the rest of your life being normal and bored, do you? You’re too special for that.”

You blew out a big breath, trying to think independently of this whole bizarre situation and the fact that his flattery was more effective than it should have been. 

“I’m still not sure I believe you,” you said. “Isn’t there some sort of saying that you should never trust somebody who hides their face? An innocent young girl like me could get hurt trusting scary men like you.” 

“Scary?” Gojo repeated. 

“You are, aren’t you? I can feel it.”

“You mean that you can sense my cursed energy?”

“Is that like an aura?” you asked. “Because I can’t read yours. That hardly ever happens.” 

“Aura?” 

You narrowed your eyes. “You know, spiritual energy and emotion and that sort of thing.”

“Ah, this might be a difference in terminology. This is cursed energy,” Gojo said, raising his hand and curling his fingers as if holding something. The intimidating energy that surrounded him pooled there, a dark shroud around his hand. All of the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, the discomfort prickling like thousands of little needles poking against your skin. “Is this what you mean?” 

“No, that’s… Bleh,” you said, exaggerating your shudder. “I’m talking about aura. People’s emotions, their mental state. I think your cursed energy is stifling yours, I don’t know. Or maybe you’re not human.” 

“Maybe,” he agreed, lowering his hand, the dark energy flowing back into him. “I think you have the potential to be a wonderful sorcerer.” 

“Really?” 

“I’ll teach you. I’m the best, you know. Aren’t you tired of knowing that there’s a problem you can’t fix? Do you think you can live a life of ignorance now that you know there are answers?” 

Before you could respond, his phone rang. 

“Yes?” Gojo asked, taking the call. Whatever the person on the other end said made him smile. “Sure, sure. You can’t leave it there, I’ll transfer you the money… Yes, of course.” 

He hung up and leaned forward, dropping the phone and cradling his cheek in his hand. 

“There was a cursed object there,” he told you. “It would have been a while before the seal unraveled enough to be noticeable, but it was only a matter of time before it began attracting curses.”

“If you take it away, that means the place will be safe?” 

“We’ll keep an eye on it to be sure, but, generally, yes. You saved innocent people from being harmed by an unseen evil. They will be allowed to continue on living their boring, mundane lives. That’s what a jujutsu sorcerer does.”

You nodded thoughtfully. It was the smartest choice to simply reject him and leave and move on with your life. 

Most likely. 

Absolutely. 

But when you mentally followed that course of action to its completion, you knew that a part of you would always exist in this little cafe sitting across from the strangest man you had ever met considering an offer that scared and excited you. You would always wonder about the answers he promised, every day you would wonder if there was something more. 

“If everything you’re saying is true-” you began.

“It is.”   

“-then I’ll consider it.” 

Gojo smiled. “I’ll have Ijichi get your transfer paperwork pushed through. We’ll have to move fast, you have a lot of missed time to make up for. You don’t mind, do you?” 

“I said that I’ll consider it,” you told him, taken aback by his presumptuousness. 

“Sure, sure,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be in contact soon, okay? Be ready.” 

Despite your attempt to retain a certain amount of resistance and control over the situation, things moved exactly as fast as Gojo said they would. He was telling the truth about all of it. There was such a place as Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School, and he was a teacher, and although being such a late transfer was weird, it was all legitimate.  

The explanations were easier than you thought too. Mom was utterly charmed by Satoru Gojo. He came to your house wearing expensive clothes and a pair of sunglasses with his white hair flipped boyishly over his brow and explained the situation with a big, charming smile and the most disarmingly blue eyes you had ever seen and she was putty in his hands. She didn’t always believe you about spirits—curses, as Gojo called them—but she believed it from him, enthusing about how she’d always known you were special, and that you could do things nobody else could. It was moments like sitting in the room seeing Mom’s aura flash and sparkle with attraction and desire that made you wish you didn’t have the ability to see them. 

Not even two weeks after the cafe conversation with Satoru Gojo, you were packing up and moving to live on the Tokyo Jujutsu High campus grounds. As you packed, you thought a lot about the first time you saw an evil spirit. You screamed and screamed. It wasn’t until your grandmother came and comforted you that you calmed down. She had that effect on people. Making them comfortable, making them feel safe. 

Throughout your life, you flirted with divination and spirits and dark energy mostly for your own gain and amusement, but she was a real deal spiritual woman. If she were alive, she wouldn’t have liked who you were. That had been true for a while. You wondered what she would think of you going to study to exorcize curses, if that would have met with her approval. You wondered what dad would think. It had always been his plan that you should go to university. He wanted you to be educated before you got married. Funny, because he abandoned his university educated career-driven wife for some ditzy young thing he met at a bar.

It was kind of funny to think that, in the end, you wouldn’t go to university and you wouldn’t get married. Spite wasn’t a good primary reason to do something, but you couldn’t deny the frantic heat of its inspiration.

“I don’t know,” Haruka said, her voice distorted through your phone’s speaker as you unpacked your things. The room you were given on the Jujutsu Tech campus was larger than you thought it would be, although it didn’t look nearly so big with your stuff strewn everywhere. Mom laughed at your materialism, but you didn’t want to be underprepared. “I like him, but I don’t think he likes me back.”

You slipped a shirt onto its hanger, rolling your eyes at her dramatics. “The only way you’ll know is if you ask him.” 

“It’s weird for him, I think. ‘Cause I’m still in school. I mean, there’s barely a year difference between us, but… I don’t know. Maybe it is weird. If my mom knew I was dating Ikki, she’d flip out.” 

“Then don’t ask him out.”  

Haruka sighed. “I wish she was like your mom. She lets you do basically whatever you want.”

That stung, although you weren’t entirely sure she meant it to. “The way I see it,” you said, sidestepping that comment, “it won’t be weird after you’re out of school. Wait a few months, it’s not like you’re going to have time with exams going on.” 

“I wish you were here. Now when I make bad decisions I don’t have anyone to blame them on.” 

You laughed. “I was thinking the same thing. I can’t copy your homework anymore, why even bother being friends?” 

“Because,” Haruka said, clearly taking offense, “I am-”

“Knock knock,” somebody called through the open door, startling you. You turned to watch Gojo come in, looking around your room while Haruka rattled off all of the many reasons she was an invaluable friend to you. Well, you assumed he was looking around your room. He had returned to the bandages covering half his face, hiding his impossibly beautiful eyes. 

“One second, Haruka… Can I help you?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow to hide the flicker of excitement you felt seeing him. 

“Oh, are you talking to someone?” Gojo asked. “I can come back later.”

“Ah, no, that’s fine,” you told him, very easily deciding that you would rather talk to him than listen to Haruka’s boy troubles. “Haru, I’ve gotta go,” you said, picking up your phone. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Is that a man’s voice?” she asked. “Why is he in your room, what kind of school is that? Is-” 

You ended the call, cutting her off. “Do you need something?” you asked. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” 

“You didn’t,” you said, returning to hanging up your clothes. “Although she’s probably going to tell everyone this whole transfer thing was an elaborate lie to cover for the fact that I got knocked up and ran away with some guy. I’m not sure why, but nobody believes I’ve dedicated myself to a strict religious lifestyle.” 

“How much do they know about your abilities?” Gojo asked, walking over to your bed and sitting down, grabbing one of the stray magazines off the floor. He flicked through the glossy pages of fashion advice and gossip with a distinct lack of interest. 

You snorted, hanging up one of your last few dresses. “You’re kidding, right?” 

“Not at all,” Gojo said, dropping the magazine to flip through another. “It can be very isolating to keep such a big secret from the people closest to you.” 

“It would be such a drag to explain,” you said. “Besides, nobody wants to know that things like curses exist. They just want to live their normal lives where things make sense.” 

Gojo hummed in amusement. “Is that really the only reason?” 

The tone of his voice set you on edge. It sounded like he was implying something. “What do you mean?” 

“It would make things more difficult for you if anybody knew you could read their mind, wouldn’t it?” 

You frowned at him, although he didn’t seem to be paying attention. “First of all,” you said, putting a hand on your hip, “I can’t read minds. Second of all, it’s not like I’m actively trying to spy on people. I can’t help it.”

“Calm down,” he said with a smile, tossing the magazine aside. “I wasn’t making any comment on your character. It was an observation.” 

“Right,” you said, forcing yourself to let it go. “By the way, where is everyone else? The rooms around me all look empty.” 

Gojo waved his hand nonchalantly, standing up. “There aren’t any other third year girls.” 

“Did something happen?” 

“No, it’s not abnormal. Jujutsu sorcerers are extremely rare.” Gojo walked towards the wall you had half covered with various posters and decorations. “I heard your admission interview went well.” 

“Of course it did,” you said, smiling.  He didn’t see it, too focused on the map. You had it set up on your wall like you had at home, ready in case the mood struck.

“That’s the library,” Gojo said, tapping a finger against the marked spot. His fingers were long. Considering his abnormal height, it was hardly surprising. It was attractive though. You shut that thought down fast. You could acknowledge it as a fact, but he was your teacher now. Besides, he probably had women throwing themselves at him from all angles, you’d rather be celebate than be reduced to one of the many.

“And right there,” you said, coming up behind him to point at another mark, “is the-”

“Antique shop,” he shot you a smile over his shoulder. “What an interesting ability.” 

“Isn’t this sort of thing normal for, um, jujutsu sorcerers?” you asked, the term coming out a little awkwardly. 

“Not at all. Sorcerers are highly individualistic. There are inherited techniques, but many of them are unique to the sorcerer. They’re innate, carved into your frontal lobe.” He tapped his forehead, turning towards you.

“But you can do the same thing,” you said. “Reading people’s auras and all of that.” You grinned, raising your eyebrows playfully. “You’ve got a third eye.” 

“Six Eyes, actually,” Gojo said. “Although it does seem like you have a related form of extrasensory perception.” He threw an arm around your shoulders, swaying you back and forth. “You’re a little mini me! Isn’t that exciting?” 

The sudden touch made you stiffen up, too surprised to react immediately. The only coherent thought you had was that he smelled really good. You shook that out of your head, pushing at his arm in a half-hearted attempt to get some space.

“What can you do then?” you asked. “Can you teach me?” 

Gojo stopped swaying you around. “Weren’t you listening to anything I said? Jujutsu techniques are-” 

“-innate and unique,” you finished for him. “But you can teach me how to get better at my own techniques if they’re like yours, right?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Gojo said, stepping away. “If you try to run before you learn to walk, you’ll fall on your face. You’re getting a late start, so you’re going to have to work hard.” He raised his pointer finger to lecture you. “You’ll start by getting control over your cursed energy.” 

“Okay,” you said, nodding. “How do I do that?” 

“First! You clean your room,” he said. “It’s a mess in here. Then come to the classroom. I’ll have to find Oyama.” 

“Who’s Oyama?” 

“The other third year. He’ll be able to help you when I’m not here.” 

“You’re leaving?” 

“Are you disappointed?” Gojo cooed, leaning forward to put himself on your level, pursing his lips in a mocking display of pity. “As much as I would love to teach my cute little student personally, I have obligations to fulfill as a sorcerer. I hope you don’t miss me too much in the meantime.”

You gave him a flat look, hiding your genuine disappointment behind your irritation at the mockery. “I’m sure I’ll live.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Gojo said, patting your head. “Okay!” He stood up straight, turning away. “Don’t take too long,” he called as he left, “I hate having to wait.” 

“I’m sure this will only take me four or five hours,” you said. “Maybe six. I hope you don’t miss me too much in the meantime.” 

Gojo didn’t respond to your taunt, shooting you a final smile over his shoulder, one that was all blinding white teeth. The covered eyes made it more menacing than playful. 

“I hate it when you ignore my calls,” Mom said. “It’s been over a week since you gave me any sort of update. There’s only so much time I have to talk to you, so when you don’t answer, I have no idea what to think.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you said in as apologetic a voice as you could fake, holding your phone between your ear and shoulder as you did your nails. It was a futile effort, there was no way you could keep your hands manicured. All you could do was fight back your cuticles and paint your nails knowing they would be chipped the next day. “I spend all my time training, studying, or exhausted from training and studying. Do you remember Gojo talking about how being a late transfer meant a lot of extra work? I want to succeed here, so I have to put in the work.”

As you hoped, the apology and mention of Gojo quelled some of her fire. “Oh, well, I still expect you to keep me informed.” 

“I know,” you said. “Really, there’s not much to say.” Other than going out on a mission with Oyama for the first time and helping him exorcize a nasty curse that you helped to find with your unique ability, but you weren’t going to tell her that. You were saving that for when Gojo came back from whatever mission he was off doing. Instead, you painted a lick of red onto your pinky nail, carefully working the color into the edges. “How are you?” you asked her. “You mentioned you were seeing that guy from the lab?” 

“Didn’t I tell you? I had to end things with him,” Mom said. “He was a real piece of work.” 

“Oh, no you didn’t. I’m sorry,” you apologized, capping the nail polish bottle and appraising your hands. Serviceable, under the circumstances. 

“You know how men are. You think they’re fine, but they turn out to be completely crazy.” She huffed, you could imagine the way she would shake her head. “Actually, I’ve been spending some time with a man from the second floor. It’s going really well.”

“Oh, that’s exciting!” you exclaimed with enthusiasm, rolling your eyes. She was almost as bad as Haruka with the boy drama. You wanted her to be happy, of course you did, but having to hear about her messy romantic life got tiresome. 

“When you get back, maybe the four of us can go out for dinner.”

“Four?” 

“He has a daughter. She’s a little younger than you, I’m sure the two of you would get along really well.” 

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” you said, really scooping deep to manage an enthusiastic tone. “I’m just not sure when I’ll be able to get some time away. Like I said, I’m very busy.” 

“It’s been two months, surely you can ask Gojo for one weekend home.” 

“I’ll ask him,” you told her, making sure she could hear your doubt. Hopefully this fling wouldn’t last long, you really couldn’t stomach the thought of feigning interest in some stranger’s daughter. 

Content that your nails were dry, you peeled your phone away from your ear. 

“But I’ve gotta go for now,” you told her. “I promised Oyama I’d study with him. You know, final exams.” 

Another lie, although one you didn’t feel as bad about. In reality, final exams at Jujutsu Tech weren’t at all like at a normal school. You would still be graduating, but not through lengthy tests. It felt a little cheap to have all of your studying go to waste, but you weren’t about to complain.

“Yes, of course,” Mom replied. “Don’t forget to keep me informed, alright?” 

“Got it,” you said. “I’ll talk to you later. Love you, bye.” 

“Love you.” 

You hung up, tossed your phone to the side, and uncapped the bottle to paint your toenails. 

Gojo returned a few days later with kitschy souvenirs from some small village you had never heard of and a big smile, eager to hear how you were progressing. For that matter, you were eager to share it with him. He hadn’t been gone too long, but you were working harder than you ever had before, and getting better accordingly. 

“Okay!” Gojo said, leaning against the edge of his desk. “Tell me everything I’ve missed. How is your training?” 

“I’m getting a lot better at controlling my cursed energy,” you said. “You can tell, can’t you?”

“I can,” Gojo said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a little smile. “What about your hand-to-hand training?” 

You frowned at how quickly he brushed over your impressive accomplishment. Even Oyama was a little impressed by how quickly you adapted to the natural movement of cursed energy. Once again, you tried to get a read on Gojo’s state of mind to know what he was thinking, but it was as impossible as before.

“I got punched in the face for the first time,” you said. 

The comment didn’t have the intended effect of eliciting amusement or confusion. Instead: “Did you deserve it?” 

“What?” you asked, indignant. “No, not like that. I was sparring with Oyama and I realized that I’d never been punched in the face, so I asked him to. It seems like the sort of thing I needed to experience.”

“And what did you learn?” 

“That Oyama enjoyed it way too much, and I needed to buy waterproof mascara. It made my eyes water like crazy.” 

Gojo laughed, but didn’t give you anything else to work with. 

“I’ve also learned that I’m really not into fistfighting,” you said, finally being serious. “I’ll definitely want to use weapons.”

“Your cursed technique is more effective the closer you are to the opponent, isn’t it?” Gojo asked. “So you’ll want something that can work at very close range.”

“But first I’ll have to learn how to reliably close the distance. I’m not fast enough. Yet.”

Gojo nodded thoughtfully. “Speed is important, but reading your opponent is more valuable in that situation,” he said. “If you ask nicely, I may be able to help.” 

“I have to ask?” 

He sighed dramatically. “My time is in high demand.”

“Some teacher you are,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes in as exaggerated of a way as possible. 

“Watch your tone,” Gojo told you, wagging a finger. “You don’t want detention, do you?” 

“I’m so sorry, sensei,” you said, batting your eyelashes. “I didn’t mean to disrespect you.” 

He didn’t immediately respond to the taunt which, when you couldn’t get a read on his mood anyway, was oddly unsettling. 

“You’re lucky I’m such a kind, patient man,” he finally said, his voice softer than before. “That cheeky tone could get you in trouble.” 

“I’ve heard that you’re way worse,” you said. “I’ve heard that all of the higher-ups think you’re a nuisance. I’m only trying to be more like you, sensei.”

“You might find you don’t enjoy where that gets you,” he said. The tenor of his voice was playful, but the tension beneath wasn’t.

“You wouldn’t do anything,” you said, hoping to laugh it off.

He smiled, but didn’t laugh. 

“I heard what happened in Shinjuku,” Gojo said before things got too awkward. “You were able to identify the type and motivation of the curses and warn Oyama. That’s impressive.” 

“Oh… Yeah, thank you,” you said. “It wasn’t that difficult once I understood what type of place it was. Officially, it was a club, but that was only a front for their prostitution scheme. Of course the curses would hate men.” 

“You know, I’ve been thinking, with proper honing, you might reach a point where you can perceive the nature of a technique before it can be used against you.” 

“Really?” you asked, excited by the idea. It sounded like an impressive trick.

“It’s possible, certainly. But,” he pointed at you, “you’re a long way off from developing a skill that complex. Don’t get distracted from working on the basics.”

“I know, I know,” you said, trying not to seem too petulant. “I know I have to practice with my cursed energy, but sensing things about people and curses, that’s intuitive.” 

“It’s hard on you, isn’t it?” Gojo asked, although it wasn’t much of a question. “Your ability is empathetic, not sympathetic. To understand what you’re facing, you have to let it in. That can be very dangerous. You have to carefully control it.”

“It’s not comfortable,” you allowed. “But I can do it.” 

“To know the nature of the curse is to be confronted with the absolute worst of humanity, and it very well could end with you cursing them in turn.”

“I won’t let it get to me.” 

“Not to mention how dangerous it is, I’ve known sorcerers who are rendered entirely catatonic just through proximity to especially strong curses, and that’s with their defenses up.” 

“I can handle it,” you insisted, frowning. 

Gojo paused, considering you with his head tilted curiously to the side. 

“You said you asked Oyama to punch you in the face,” he said. “You might be a bit of a masochist, but I assume you were looking for that experience in a controlled environment.” 

“Yeah, something like that,” you said, too caught off guard by the change of topic to properly react to the masochist comment.

“That’s smart, actually,” Gojo said. “Come here, I want to show you something.”

“Show me what?” you asked, frowning. 

“The danger of special grade cursed energy. Come here, I don’t want to cast too wide a net and catch anyone else. This is for educational purposes only, alright?” 

“Okay,” you said, hopping off your desk and approaching him.

“What do you feel?” Gojo asked, pushing away from the big desk to stand up straight. His height continuously took you by surprise. Maybe you’d find loafers with more of a heel, it was annoying to have to look up at him like this. 

“Not much. You’re as mysterious as ever,” you said, an unmistakable note of bitterness in your tone.

“Okay then. Are you ready?” Gojo asked. 

“Go ahead,” you said, bracing yourself. You knew cursed energy, you had felt it both from sorcerers and actual curses. You thought you were prepared.

You were not prepared. 

Cursed energy flared out around him in an oppressive wave, capturing you in its field. The only thing you could think was that you were going to die. There was nothing you could think to compare it to. Fear flooded your system, it was all that existed. Not the fear of pain or death or any human threat, but complete and total destruction. Cellular annihilation, the ruination of the thing that was ‘you’ until not one part remained. You couldn’t move. His cursed energy snuffed that out, squishing down everything that wasn’t animalistic terror. When your legs gave out, you barely felt it, only the weakness of your body caving in. Gojo caught you before you fell, holding you up against him. 

“The way you feel right now,” Gojo muttered, his voice soft and low, “this is what it is to be truly helpless. This is what you’re ultimately up against. Unless you’re prepared to endure the depths of hell, your arrogant curiosity will destroy you.” 

Just like that, it was over. 

You sobbed, hiding your face against his chest. It was pathetic, but you couldn’t control the entirely bodily reaction now that you were arrested with blind fear. Your body was practically vibrating from how violently you were shaking. Never in your life had you experienced such horrific, visceral fear. It was worse than you would have thought, even though you were never actually in any danger. 

“Ah, maybe that was too much,” Gojo said regretfully, patting your back. 

“Wha-aa-as that-t yo—uor te-eh-chnique?” you asked, your stammered words muffled against his chest. How embarrassing. 

“That? No. If I had used my technique, your brain would be mush right now.” Gojo ran his hand over your hair, almost affectionately stroking it. “Do you need me to carry you to your room? I wouldn’t mind.”

Your hands tightened in the front of his uniform, although you couldn’t recall when you began holding onto him. Gojo hummed, petting your hair again, his hand idly lowering to your back, and then your waist, and your hip. 

It was only a flicker, a fraction of a second, but you felt the barest whisper of glee. Lust. For blood or otherwise, you didn’t have the capacity to tell, but the impression was in such stark opposition to your own tumultuous feelings that it startled you.

You gasped, stumbling away from Gojo like he’d shocked you. Luckily, you managed to catch yourself on the edge of one of the desks rather than fall. He was, as ever, completely inscrutable. Whatever you thought you felt, it was gone as fast as it struck. 

Unable to read anything else from the man, you decided that it was your imagination, a subsequent reaction born from a panicked brain. It was difficult to hold onto the feeling of primal terror now that it wasn’t actively battering down your defenses. Without any actual danger, your brain couldn’t generate the same intensity. With shaking hands, you wiped beneath your eyes, keeping them averted. 

“That was embarrassing, I’m sorry,” you said.

“This isn’t too bad of a reaction. It’s kind of cute, actually.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” you agreed with breathless sarcasm, trying very hard to compose yourself. “For the record, I preferred being punched in the face.” 

“I’m sure,” Gojo said with a little laugh. “Well,” he clapped his hands together, effectively ending the report, “you look like you could use a break, let’s go see what’s for lunch.” 

“It’s so stupid,” Haruka said, her sniffling voice crinkling through your phone's speaker. 

You laid on your back while listening to her cry, staring at your dorm’s plain ceiling. Things with Ikki hadn’t gone well. Normally you could at least pretend to care about her love life, but your thoughts were elsewhere. 

“I knew he didn’t like me, I just thought since he was so nice and-” 

It pissed you off to be so consumed by thoughts of one man, but it felt like there was a whirlpool in your head. You could fight it for a while, but all too soon your thoughts would return to your enigmatic teacher. Back and forth, back and forth, you bounced between trying to convince yourself to be realistic about yourself and the creeping paranoia that there was something going on.

Gojo was a very physical sort of person. It was conceited to think he’d be interested in you when he was attractive enough to get any woman he reasonably wanted. He was only helping you. It wasn’t intimate. Even if it felt a little strange, that was normal for combat training, wasn’t it?  

He was interested in you. He was taking advantage of his role as your teacher, teasing you for his own amusement. That flash of lust was real, and it warned you of danger. The awkward nerves you felt around him were rational. 

Back and forth and back and forth and-

“Hello?” Haruka snapped.

“Ah, um, yeah, I’m really sorry, Haru,” you said, realizing after a beat of silence that you had missed your cue. 

“Whatever. I know you don’t get it.” She sniffed and then cleared her throat, composing herself. “I don’t suppose you know any hot guys, do you?”

“No dice,” you told her, although your thoughts went in a different direction. Gojo was hot, but he was also older than you and your teacher and there was no way. You rubbed your temple as if you could physically drive out the intrusive thoughts. It was pure ego. 

In any other situation, you would be able to check for sure, but not with him. That was it. You didn’t know, and so you were making assumptions. Everything was normal, you were the one acting like a fool, self-obsessed enough to think you were getting the attention of an attractive older man.  

“When you visit, we’ll have to go out looking for guys,” Haruka said. “I want to do something crazy before classes start.” 

“I’m sure I can find a way to sneak out,” you joked. Mostly joking. You weren’t confined on campus, it was a little hard to find time. 

That weekend, Gojo was gone, Oyama was busy, and you had the day to yourself. Rather than wasting it on campus, you hopped on a bus to the Tokyo station and took the train to Yokohama. You thought you would feel different returning to familiar stomping grounds after being away so long, but you didn’t. Nothing ever really changed.

That thought struck you especially when you spotted a pretty girl in a red sundress lackadaisically scrolling on her phone on a bench at the station. Haruka Inaba consistently scored top marks in every class, volunteered at hospitals in her free time, and reigned over the school’s tennis club throughout her second and third year of high school. She was the type of girl other girls wished they were.

A cursory look over your social media timeline would present picture after picture of the two of you having fun together, and she was the only person you had ever told about your dad leaving your mom for a younger woman. In short, she was your best friend.

Although, it might have been more accurate to say you had entered into an alliance. Everybody had a face they preferred other people didn’t see, when you were honest with someone that made you close, but didn’t necessarily foster a lot of affection. 

“I hope you didn’t wait too long,” you said, greeting her with a smile. 

“It was no big deal,” she told you. “The station’s on the way to the mall anyway.” 

“Well then, shall we?” you asked. 

“Of course,” Haruka said, getting to her feet and tossing her hair back to expose her perfectly smooth neck and shoulder, a very practiced gesture. “I’m surprised your mom didn’t come. You haven’t seen her since you left, have you?”

Internally, you rolled your eyes at how obvious the question was. Testing pressure points, or just looking for gossip. 

“She’s a busy woman, I wouldn’t ask her to spend her day off with me,” you lied as you shuffled into the crowd of foot traffic flowing out of the station and onto the street. Mom didn’t even know you were in town. “Besides, I hate shopping with her.”

“That’s fair. What are you looking for today?”

“Athletic wear that isn’t hideous.”

“Do you do a lot of exercise at that new school of yours?” she asked, saying ‘school’ like it was a joke. 

You shrugged. So far, you had been vague about Jujutsu Tech. It was impossible to be specific without sounding insane. Besides, Haruka only wanted to know more so she could dismiss the idea that you were special enough to be scouted for an incredibly upscale and mysterious school and she wasn’t.  

“A bit,” you said. “What time are we meeting Fumiko and Kaoru?”

“The movie starts at four-fifteen,” Haruka told you.

“Oh, Ikki’s coming too,” you said. “I hope you don’t mind, Kaoru invited him before I could ask him not to.” 

Haruka smiled tightly, her aura flashing aggressively. “Why would I mind?” 

You let that one go, knowing better than to rub it in.

After that, you and Haruka relaxed into a far more superficial, casual dynamic. Clothes were a great unifier, and she had great taste. 

The world was set right. No curses, no fighting, no second guessing people’s feelings. The other three showed up around lunch. There was still some strain with Haruka and the ever-oblivious Ikki, but you pretended you didn’t notice. The movie was boring, the dinner conversation even more-so, but you were rewarded with a milkshake out in the open air plaza.

Haruka and Fumiko were arguing with Kaoru about action versus drama movies. You wondered what type of movie Gojo preferred, if either. He was capable of stunts cooler than any action hero, but you weren’t sure he’d buy into drama either.

Was that some sort of mystical divination, your errant thoughts predicting the future? Probably not, although it was concerning that your thoughts would stray to him so easily. 

You realized someone was behind you a fraction of a second before their big hands were covering your eyes. “Guess who,” he said. He, as in, one of the few people who could easily sneak up on you, who could make you nearly jump out of your skin, your cursed energy flaring and heart racing.  

You grabbed Gojo’s wrists, pulling his hands away from your eyes and turning to face him. He wore a casual button-up, a pair of retro round lensed sunglasses, and a huge grin. 

“Who are you?” Ikki asked, his body tensed and halfway out of his seat. 

“It’s alright,” you said, putting a hand on his arm. “This is…” you said, looking at Gojo as you tried to think of an answer.

“I’m her teacher, Satoru Gojo,” he finished for you with a megawatt smile, waving to your friends. Haruka looked impressed, her eyes dragging over him without even an attempt at subtlety. The other three looked at him with a range from mild interest to outright hostility. 

“I thought you were on a mi—a business trip,” you said. 

“I finished early,” Gojo said, wedging himself between you and Ikki to wrap an arm around your shoulder. The stool was high enough that he didn’t have to lean down very much, but he still almost pulled you out of the seat. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” His face was right next to yours. You couldn’t look at him, not when he was peering over the top of his sunglasses, giving you the full weight of his beautiful eyes.

You cleared your throat, irritated that he would go out of his way to embarrass you. “This is Ikki, Haruka, Fumiko, and Kaoru,” you told him, gesturing to them in turn.  

“You’re more than welcome to join us, Gojo,” Haruka said, leaning forward with her eyes fixed directly on Gojo. “She’s spoken very highly of you.” 

“She didn’t say you were so young,” Ikki said, clearly disgruntled by the way Gojo had pushed him aside. “Are you really a teacher?”

“Ah, you flatter me!” Gojo said, laughing a little louder than appropriate. “Well, as much as I would love to stick around to hear embarrassing stories about my cute little student, it’s time for us to get going.” He released you, standing up straight. “It was nice meeting you all.”   

He couldn’t be serious. 

“Us?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes. There’s something we need to do before going back to campus. It’s time sensitive, we have to hurry.” 

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” you said. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” 

“No, it can’t. Come on.”

You played out the scenario where you continued to argue, but all of them ended with the same eventuality. He was, no matter what else, your teacher. Sighing dramatically, you slung your bags over your arm and stood up. 

“I guess I have to go,” you said. “It was fun, I’ll see you later.” Fumiko and Kaoru smiled back, but Haruka was fixated on Gojo. You could practically see the hearts swirling in her aura. Ikki was unamused on the edge of hostile, glaring at Gojo who had put his hands in his pockets, unconcerned.

“Okay,” you said, turning away from your friends. “Lead the way.”

Gojo smiled. “Don’t worry,” he told you, taking off with his long-legged strides, “it’s not far.” 

“Is there a job?” you asked, trotting behind him to catch up. The plaza was congested with the late afternoon crowd, it was a bit of a battle to make your way out until you reached the equally crowded sidewalk. 

“It’s something very important,” Gojo told you. “Time is of the essence. Can’t you walk any faster?” 

“In these shoes?” you asked incredulously, coming to a stop beside him as you waited for the crosswalk light to turn. 

“I’ve never understood that,” Gojo said, looking at your feet. “Why wear something that you can’t move around in? I’d hate that.” 

“Because these shoes are adorable and they make my legs look great,” you said, once again rushing to keep up with him as he crossed the road. 

“Oho?” Gojo asked, slowing his stride to look at you with a smile. “Are you trying to impress somebody?” 

“I want to impress everyone,” you said.   

“It was that guy you were sitting next to, wasn’t it?” he asked knowingly. “Are you dating?”

“Ikki?” you asked. Your nose scrunched up at the idea, you could only imagine Haruka’s reaction. “No, we’re not.” 

“Really? He was very protective of you.”

You shrugged, not really interested in that particular topic. 

“How was your trip?” you asked, prompting him to tell you about England. When you thought about the city of London, you imagined big stone castles crawling with translucent ghosts in huge gowns, but he said it was just a regular city with regular boring curses.  

You weren’t as disappointed by that as you might have been otherwise, too busy trying to keep up. Apparently, not far meant something completely different to Gojo than to you, although part of that was that he refused to slow down for your sake. It was almost like he was amused by forcing you to scramble behind him, but you didn’t want to think he would be that rude just for his own entertainment.

It was a huge relief when he stopped in front of a collection of businesses. “Wait here,” Gojo said, grabbing your shoulders and pressing down as if to plant you in place. 

“Yes, sir.” 

He went into the store and you waited dutifully, looking around at the people passing by. You felt out the area curiously, but there wasn’t much. People’s auras that projected regular, boring emotions and some vague, stale residuals, the tumultuous swirl of rotten energy that swarmed the city like a foul stench. Nothing out of the ordinary.

It was difficult not to replay his questions in your head, it really only added to the confusing mess of nerves and doubt you felt when you thought about Gojo. Why would it matter if you were dating Ikki or not? It wasn’t his business whatsoever. But really, not that you would ever openly acknowledge it, the idea that Satoru Gojo would give you attention in that way was thrilling. Not good, not bad, just thrilling. It was because of who he was, you knew that rationally, and you knew that was a weird and childish way to think. There was no way he had any inappropriate sentiments towards you, no more than you did him. 

When you thought about it like that, you just got irritated. With him and with yourself. 

“Okay!” Gojo called, easily catching your attention as he left the store and came to stand by you. He held a little box from the bakery, although you couldn’t see what was in it. “Close your eyes and say ‘ahh’.”

“What?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing. 

“Come on, do it,” he insisted. 

You did as he said, making no attempts to hide your exasperation. Gojo pushed a pastry puff into your mouth, leaving a smear of cream over your bottom lip. 

Chewing the pastry, you opened your eyes to Gojo’s eager smile. “Well? Delicious, right?” he asked, licking off the extra cream from the fingers that had just been in your mouth. 

You nodded as you swallowed, more distracted by the way his tongue ran along his long fingers than the flavor. Which was ridiculous. “Are we waiting for someone?” you asked, forcing yourself to focus on that instead.

“No, we’re going back to campus. These are the best profiteroles I’ve ever tasted. We had to hurry—they make a fresh batch for the evening crowd.”

“So… there’s no job?” you asked. 

“I never said it was,” he told you, popping another pastry in his mouth. 

“This was the thing that was so important that I couldn’t spend time with my friends that I never see?” you pushed. “You’re not serious.”

“Are you mad?” Gojo asked. “I got some just for you.”

“I haven’t seen them in a long time,” you said. “And you were acting weird.” 

“You are mad,” Gojo said, frowning. “I only wanted to share something nice with you. After all, you’ve been working so hard. I’m proud of you.” 

“Is that it?” you asked. “Really?” 

“What else?” he asked. 

“Hello?” you asked after picking up the call. You were waiting for your laundry, half-heartedly leafing through a book about historical cursed objects. 

“Did you make it back alright?” Haruka asked from the other end. 

“I did,” you said. “I’m sorry about earlier. Gojo is a little… eccentric.” 

“He’s gorgeous,” Haruka said. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me your teacher was so hot.” 

“He’s my teacher,” you said, surprised by the flare of irritation you felt at having her point it out. Of course he was hot, but you couldn’t acknowledge that. You wouldn’t want to anyway, not when you were still feeling so conflicted. 

“Yeah but he’s young. What do you think, twenty-five? Twenty-six?” 

“He’s my teacher,” you repeated.

“He’s not my teacher. Do you think he’s single? I didn’t see a ring.” 

“No,” you said bluntly, closing the book with a snap. 

“No, he’s not single?” 

“I mean no, I’m not having this conversation with you,” you said. “It’s weird and disrespectful.” 

“You’re kidding,” Haruka asked. “Since when do you care about that?”

That caught you off guard; you didn’t have an answer. Any response you could think of led to increasingly disquieting explanations. “I don’t think Gojo’s the dating type,” you told her, deciding to side-step that question completely. “He’s out of the city about as often as he’s here, so I doubt he’s got much time for that sort of thing.” 

She hummed. “Maybe I can come visit you on campus. It’s just outside of Tokyo, right?” 

“It’s a religious school,” you told her. “No visitors on campus.” 

“That’s so lame. You should give me his number then.”  

“Why would I do that?” 

“For me,” Haruka said. “To mend my broken heart.” 

“You can’t date my teacher.” 

“I’m not looking to date him,”  Haruka said. “Come on, you owe me. Please?” 

“Look, Haru-” you began, ready to try to explain to her why it was a bad idea that wouldn’t go anywhere, but she cut you off. 

“Unless you really are saving him for yourself,” Haruka said. “I guess I wouldn’t put it past you.” 

You closed your mouth, swallowing your warning. For that, she could deal with another rejection. “Okay, I’ll ask.”

“Thank you!” Haruka said. “Okay, I gotta hurry to take a shower, text me. Don’t forget, okay?”

“I won’t,” you said, truly meaning it. “Goodnight.”  

The next day, the sun was high and hot as you dropped down to sit next to Gojo on the field-side benches. 

“Your form is looking much better,” Gojo said. “I like that outfit too. Is it new?” 

You smiled, preening a little bit at the compliment. “Thank you, it is,” you said, smoothing your hair back. “You know, men don’t usually notice clothes.” 

“I notice everything you do,” he said. “It’s the best way to keep track of your progress.” 

“Right,” you said, smiling and accepting that with a nod, aggressively rejecting the fluttery nerves the comment inspired. “Sensei, may I ask you something personal?”

“Oh? What is it?

“Are you seeing anyone? Romantically, I mean.” 

“That’s hardly an appropriate question to ask your teacher.” 

“You asked me if I was dating someone,” you pointed out. “I’m only asking for a—a friend.” 

“A friend?” Gojo repeated dubiously. “Well, you can tell your friend that I’m not seeing anyone. Not exclusively, at least.”

That confirmed that, at least. “And you’re okay with younger women?” you asked, acting more flustered than you felt. “My age, I mean. Or, you know, around my age. Not me, obviously.”

“It depends on the woman,” he said slowly, leaning forward with a little smile curling his lips. “What’s she like?”

“I guess you could say she’s kind of like me,” you said. “Some people think she’s difficult, but maybe you don’t mind that?”  

“Is she secretly very shy?” he asked. “Perhaps because she’s afraid of her true feelings?” 

“She is a little shy,” you allowed. “You’re intimidating sometimes, sensei. And it’s scandalous because you’re my teacher.” 

“I won’t be your teacher forever.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“But I would hate for anyone to think I’m playing favorites.” 

“It’s not like I’m asking for special treatment.”

“Aren’t you?”  

“Not at all. I’d rather you keep the entire thing between you two,” you said, your tone reverting to its normal timbre.

“What?” Gojo asked, his voice flat with confusion. 

“My friend Haruka. You met her yesterday. She asked me to give her your number and see if you were interested,” you said. “It’s the only way to make up for having to bail out on the plans we had last night. That’s okay, right? It was your fault.”  

“Are you still mad at me for that?” Gojo asked.

“I’m not mad,” you pretended to consider his nonplussed expression for a moment. “You seemed interested before.”

“You were misleading me on purpose, weren’t you? How cruel. I thought you were a nice girl.” 

“Misleading you? I don’t know what you mean, sensei. I told you I was asking for a friend.” 

If you could see his eyes, you had a feeling they would be narrowed. “In that case, I’m  afraid I’ll have to pass.”

You shrugged. “Your loss.” Taking a drink, you pumped yourself up and got to your feet. “Okay! I’m gonna win this next match for sure.” 

You jumped off the benches. You did not win the next match. You did, however, feel as if you had scored some sort of petty victory with Gojo’s obvious confusion. You wondered if he truly thought you were making a pass at him and was willing to play along, or if it was just as much a game to him as you. If you could read him, you’d know. And it wouldn’t be a source of many late nights spent looking up at your ceiling wondering if you were reading too far into innocuous interactions. 

But you couldn’t.

You shouldn’t have played into it. That was the conclusion you quickly drew as March rolled out into April and your training reached a feverish intensity. The more you trained, the stronger your Divination became, the more you realized how utterly outmatched you were, how unprepared. Not only with Jujutsu sorcery, but with your enigmatic teacher.

The interactions seemed so banal at face value, but they became the only thing you could think about. It was always something. 

“Oh, look at you!” Gojo said, startling you as you were leaving campus one Saturday morning. “That’s very cute. Did you get all dressed up just for me? I’m flattered.” 

“No, I was going to go out.”

“It’s for a boy, then. I see.” 

You rolled your eyes impatiently. “If I was dressing up for you, I’d be dressing up for a guy. But I'm not.”

“Oh, but I just remembered,” Gojo said, snapping his fingers. “I’m taking you along on a job. You need more experience, don’t you?”   

And he was always so close. Maddeningly close, finding any excuse to touch you.

“Oop, there’s an eyelash on your cheek,” Gojo said, leaning in close with his lips pursed as he pinched it off. “Okay! Make a wish!” 

You resisted the urge to shrink back, looking at the bandage covering his eyes as impassively as you could. “I wish-”

“No, don’t tell me!” he said, waving his hands. “Otherwise it won’t come true.”

The two of you would be walking somewhere and he’d grabbed your hand. “No, no, we’re going this way,” he'd say, acting like it was the most casual thing in the world to entwine his fingers with your own to guide you. 

And the other things, a friendly arm thrown over your shoulder, his hands physically adjusting your stance when practicing fighting, his relentless proximity, it added up. Added up to what? You didn’t know. Whenever you expressed discomfort, Gojo seemed so confused. 

You thought that at least when he was away on missions, you would have space to breathe, but even then you felt his domineering influence. 

“Where are you going?” Oyama asked.

“It’s not your business.” 

“Is it an emergency?” 

“No. I’m-”

“Then you need to be training, your hand to hand is still way too sloppy.” 

And then it was:

“You marked a spot on your map, we should go check it out.” 

“And it can only be done today,” you said flatly. “On the day I had off. When I specifically mentioned I wanted to go out.” 

Oyama shrugged as if helpless. And, honestly, he probably was. You had a feeling you knew exactly where the orders were coming from.

When Gojo came back and you asked him about it, demanding some explanation, he looked utterly baffled by your confrontational tone. 

“You need to focus,” Gojo said, frowning with concern, his aura as impenetrable as ever. “You’re still so far behind your fellow sorcerers.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to comfort you, his voice lowering intimately. “I know it’s difficult right now, but when you’re strong, you can do whatever you want.”

The string of cancellations as well as the thing with Gojo not working out was the breaking point for Haruka. She stopped inviting you places. More than once, you considered telling her the truth, coming clean about everything regarding Gojo’s strange behavior, but you didn’t. 

Even if you told her the truth, that you weren’t necessarily trying to invite Gojo’s attention, it would validate the thing she first assumed when asking you to get his number for her. That was an old wound, an uncomfortable situation in high school with the tennis instructor. Besides, when you presented the case to yourself, it sounded insane. A handful of interactions with a man who was a bit eccentric, being restricted because you were so far behind other sorcerers.

Sometimes you felt insane, like you were missing something vital, drawing the wrong conclusions from inferred motivations because you couldn’t read Gojo like you could everyone else. You asked for a transfer to the Kyoto campus, and you clung to that. They said they would consider it, but you weren’t sure if they took it seriously. You couldn’t provide any details as to why you wanted to move, not even to yourself. 

All you could do was lay in bed listening to white noise TV overthinking every comment he made and interactions you had, your thoughts caught in the endless back and forth of confusion.  

“You weren’t there to greet me,” Gojo said, calling into the empty gym where you were stretching. He had been gone for three days and, unlike when you first began at Jujutsu Tech, you weren’t excitedly looking forward to his arrival. Or maybe you were? At least it was something other than the oppressive isolation and relentless training, but it only really upset you. “I got you a souvenir.”

“I’m good, thanks. Did you have a fun trip?” you asked in an icy tone, refusing to turn around to address him with respect.

“I wouldn’t call it fun, it’s work.” 

“Still,” you insisted, rolling your shoulders, “it must be nice to have a little freedom.” 

An awkward silence followed your comment.

“You’re not mad or something, are you?” Gojo finally asked. 

“I’m not mad.”

“I haven’t done anything to deserve this attitude,” Gojo clearly wasn’t convinced, you could hear the theatrical dismay in his tone. “What’s got you so grumpy?”

“I’m not grumpy.” 

“So why are you pouting then?” 

Finally fed up with the badgering, you whirled around to face him, resolved to be upfront, to not give him a way to get out of the question. But then you looked him up and down and felt an odd jab of disgust and guilt twist in your stomach. It was so much easier to think the worst of somebody when they weren’t there to provide any sort of counternarrative. Seeing Gojo, it was hard to believe that he was the person you sometimes feared him to be. He was too attractive, powerful, and intelligent. It didn’t make sense that he would resort to underhanded means to manipulate you.

“Is there a reason I’m not allowed to leave?” you asked, staring at his covered eyes. 

“What do you mean?” Gojo asked, the picture of innocent confusion. “Nobody’s stopping you.” 

“Really? Because when you’re here, you stop me and, when you’re not, Oyama finds a reason that I can’t. It’s almost uncanny that so many jobs coincide with the days that I make plans.”

“Have you tried asking Oyama?” Gojo asked. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”

“He detests me,” you told him flatly. “I don’t blame him.”

“Oh? Do you want me to talk to him about that? I hate to think that my students aren’t getting along.” 

“I want to know what’s going on,” you said, trying to keep calm.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Gojo said, his act of innocence perfectly maintained. Unless it wasn’t a mask. You couldn’t tell. “Are you feeling okay? Maybe you’ve been working too hard.” He frowned, thinking about it for a second. “I know! Let’s go out together. I’ve been dying to try this new sushi restaurant in town. I’ll invite Oyama and we can all get to the bottom of whatever it is you think you’re feeling.” 

The moon hung high in the sky as you did training exercises in the field near your dorm, trying to shut your brain off. Nothing was solved over dinner. Of course not. Both men acted like there was nothing strange going on.

No, of course you were allowed to do whatever you wanted. Of course they weren’t stopping you. But if they were, they had good reason to. If they were, the problem was that you were just so weak. Sure you were making progress, but you weren’t even close to catching up with other sorcerers your age.

When you got back to your room, you broke down and called your mom, intending to tell her everything. The isolation, the suffocation, the worries you had about your teacher’s behavior. But all she could talk about was how well things were going with her new boyfriend. They were considering moving in together. And it was fine if she gave his daughter your old bedroom, wasn’t it? You didn’t need it anymore. You texted Haruka, but she didn’t reply, posting on her social media story to ensure you knew she was ignoring you on purpose.

So you decided you needed to hit something. It helped you calm down, at least. It was easier to believe the world had a semblance of peace in the dark of the night. 

“Looking good!” a familiar voice called from behind you. You were trained enough to not be startled, taking a defensive stance as you considered how you were going to handle this. “I am curious as to why you’re out here though. I thought you were tired.” 

That was the reason you gave after you got back to campus, the reason you immediately excused yourself from his company. Gojo knew it was a lie then, and said it like a joke now. 

“I can’t sleep,” you said, shrugging as you turned around. 

“I see. You’re not still angry with me, are you? Even though I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“No.”

“Then I can’t help but wonder what face you’re imagining on that training dummy.” 

“Are you that hopeful that I’m thinking about you, sensei?” 

He laughed. “If anything, I’m worried,” he said. “You know what they say about a woman scorned.” 

“You told me I needed to train more,” you pointed out. “Do you have any tips? I prefer fighting with knives, but I can’t trust that I’ll always have weapons, and I still need to get in close if I’m going to use my Divination.” 

“I’m not sure there’s much to read from your current opponent,” Gojo said.  

“I’m being serious,” you said. “If you don’t want to help, that’s fine too.” 

“No, I do. Okay, get into a defensive position,” he instructed, which you did. 

Gojo walked around to stand close behind you, you could feel the warm thrum of his body, the energy coursing through it, the power. 

“Your posture is fine, the problem is your mindset,” he said, his voice lower. He reached around to brush his fingers over your flushed neck and over, across your shoulder and down your arm. “You can’t think of it in terms of only using your cursed energy or only your body. Jujutsu sorcery is more than the sum of its parts. You fight with your whole self.” His hands settled on your hips, repositioning them slightly to the side. Then his palm laid flat over your pelvis, dragging up your stomach. Your skin crackled with little sparks of electricity, crawling and thrumming and alive and nervous.  

“Sensei, I’m, uh…” Tongue-tied. A shiver snaked down your spine and you resisted the urge to move and put distance between you. You cleared your throat. “I understand that part, it’s just…”

“You don’t feel it yet. The harmony,” Gojo said. “Most people aren’t actively aware of their bodies, but a sorcerer has to be.” 

“I am,” you said softly.

“Are you really?” Gojo asked, his lips brushing your temple. “Do you feel how your cursed energy flows through your body? It has its own circulatory system, you just have to find its pulse, synchronize it with your own.” He raised his hand up to press against your neck, lightly pressing against the place where your blood erratically thrummed beneath the skin. 

“I get it,” you told him, you turned around, grabbing his hand from your neck, pressing your palms flat together. 

Gojo looked taken aback, but didn’t withdraw. You saw nothing from within him. Felt no flicker of emotion. 

“You know, I… I realized,” you said, looking up at his half-covered face, imagining a pair of sparkling blue eyes, knowing he was staring at you. “When we’re close like this, I can feel your… Infinity. The endless expanse that separates you and me.” 

“Really?” he asked, sliding his hand to the side. It dwarfed your own. “I heard that you’re getting even better at reading people. It’s very impressive how fast you’re progressing, I’m so proud.”

“I thought that would help me figure you out, but it’s not your cursed energy keeping me out. It’s your infinity.” You looked at where your hands met. You felt his skin, his warmth, and yet you knew the connection wasn’t quite there. It was impossible to truly connect with him. “Trying to read you is like trying to find a flame in an endless abyss. Even the few times I thought I’ve seen something, I can’t be sure that it wasn’t just an illusion in the dark.” 

Gojo’s head tilted curiously. “What was it that you thought you felt?” 

“I’m getting stronger,” you told him rather than answer, pressing your hand ever more firmly against his. “If you give me a chance, I’ll show you. That’s why you’re keeping me from going out, right? Because you think I’m weak.” 

“I’m not keeping you from doing anything,” Gojo told you. “I don’t know where you got this idea that I am.” 

You dropped your hand, stepping away from him. The words were a knife twisted in your chest. He made you sound crazy. Made you feel crazy. 

“Right. I’m going to bed,” you told him flatly. “Goodnight.” 

“Hello?” Haruka answered, her voice groggy from just waking up. She probably wouldn’t have taken your call if she was fully awake. 

“I’m too sick to train or study today,” you told her, holding up a potential outfit for the day. Gojo was gone, and you were done asking for permission to leave. “I’m going to be laid out in bed all day today and tomorrow.”

“What?” 

“Do you think Ikki and Kaoru would be interested in hanging out? I could use a drink.” While you were still a little over a year out from buying liquor, both Ikki and Kaoru were of age and they didn’t mind hosting little parties at their shared apartment. 

“It’s eight in the morning,” Haruka said. 

“Not now, I mean later. I’m gonna catch the twelve-twenty train. Let’s get lunch, or go shopping. Honestly, I don’t care, I just need to get out of here.” 

“Um. Yeah, I think we could do that.” 

“Great. See you then.” You hung up before she could change her mind. 

They waited until you were more than a little drunk to ask. You should have expected that, although you also didn’t expect to get so drunk. Ikki kept handing you drinks, urging you to relax and enjoy yourself. The world was warm and sweaty and spinning and comfortable and lovely and frightening. 

“Okay,” Ikki said, catching your attention. A cigarette hung out of the corner of his mouth like he was some kind of cowboy. He only smoked when he got drunk, it was kind of cute, not that you would ever tell him that. He already knew it anyway. “What’s up with you lately?” 

“What?” you asked, blinking fast.

“Kaoru thinks you got knocked up,” Fumiko said, speaking up from her position leaning against Kaoru’s chest.  

Kaoru frowned down at her.

“What?” you asked, trying to force your drunk brain to think sober thoughts. “It’s not anything like that… It’s a… It’s nothing.” 

“You’ve been blowing us off every time we asked you to come out without any explanation,” Haruka said. “It has to be a boy.” 

“No, it’s not.”

“Come ooooooon,” Fumiko pushed. “It’s a guy. He’s keeping you all to yourself.” 

“That’s not it,” you insisted.

“Is it something illegal?” Ikki asked with a puff of smoke. 

“No, nothing like that,” you said. Then you broke out laughing, looking at your nearly empty beer. “It’s not like I have a boyfriend or anything. It-it, okay it is a guy. We’re not dating. It used to just be a weird vibe but now it’s like, weirder. He stops me from leaving and if he’s not there then he gets Oyama to keep me from going and there’s always a reason, but it’s still… That’s weird, right? I had to sneak out to come tonight, and even then that’s only because he’s out of the country.” 

“There’s no way,” Haruka said, her voice flat with genuine disbelief. You could tell she was already prepared to call you a liar. “You’re saying you’re some kind of hostage?” 

“Wait so, what, there’s somebody at your school who’s obsessed with you?” Kaoru asked. “What even is that place?”

“It’s that teacher, isn’t it,” Ikki said, pointing his half burned cigarette at you “The creepy guy with the glasses.” 

“He’s not, like… creepy,” you said. “I don’t know, it’s just weird.”

Haruka scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Why would a guy that looks like Gojo go through all the trouble for you?”

“Tell him you’re dating me and I’ll beat him up if he keeps you all to himself,” Ikki said with a lopsided grin, butting his cigarette and throwing an arm around your shoulders. 

“How would that help?” Haruka snapped, glaring at the two of you, her aura sparking with anger. That was very not good. 

You shrugged off Ikki’s arm, scowling and trying to snap back to sobriety. “I knew you would do this if I told you,” you said. “That’s why I didn’t say anything before.”

“Why would I believe you? I know how you are. This is just like that one time in our second year with the tennis coach.” 

You frowned. Of course she would bring that up. “That wasn’t-”

“You thought he was cute, but he didn’t reciprocate so you told everyone he was a perv.” 

“Wasn’t that guy fired for trying to get with his students?” Kaoru asked. 

“Yeah, but he wasn’t into her,” Haruka argued. 

“It’s weird that you’re jealous about sexual harassment,” you told her bluntly.  

“Okay! I think we should take a breather,” Ikki said, trying to smooth things over. “You girls might’ve overdone it a little.” You pushed him off, your own temper flaring to meet Haruka’s fiery aura. 

“I bet Gojo turned you down and that’s why you’re making this up,” she said, her voice raising. “Or, no, you just want to outdo me. Brag about how you’re so much better just like always.”

“The only reason you’re saying this is because you’re mad he didn’t wanna sleep with you and you think it’s my fault,” you told her, working hard to keep the drunken slur out of your voice. “It’s not like I enjoy having somebody breathing down my neck all the time, although I’m sure you’d love the attention. You beg for it often enough.” 

“You do too!” she said, getting shrill. “You just act like you don’t. Being a prude doesn’t make you superior.” 

“That’s true, I don’t need self-respect to be better than you,” you snapped. In the ensuing silence, everybody in the room was just staring at you. Like you were the one out of line. Like they hadn’t ganged up on you to force you to tell them what was going on. 

Angry at them and angry at yourself for losing it so spectacularly, you stumbled drunkenly to your feet. Ikki got up too, although you pushed off his help as you went to the bathroom. Haruka shouted insults after you, which you ignored. 

Instead you went into their bathroom, marveled at the disgusting state of a place shared by two guys, and threw up. 

The knocking woke you up. It took a minute of looking at the sunshine peering in through the blinds to realize you were on Ikki’s and Kaoru’s couch, your back cramping from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position. A glass of water and two painkillers sat ready for you on the messy coffee table alongside empty beer bottles and snack wrappers. You groaned, sitting up and taking the medication with a wince. 

Whoever was at the door continued to knock. You grunted, standing up. Bad idea. You nearly fell right back down, but you managed to stay on your feet. You were about to answer the door before you realized that could be a bad idea, turning around to find Ikki.

The door to Kaoru’s room was closed, but the other door yawned open. You peeked in. Haruka was passed out on the bed. You could hear the shower running from the bathroom.

“Ikki?” you called through the door. “Someone’s knocking.”

“What?”

“Someone’s at the door,” you said. “Are you expecting anyone?”

“No,” he said. “Will you get it? I’ll be out in a second.”

Perhaps hearing voices inside, the person at the door only got louder. You sighed, annoyed by their insistence. 

You returned to the living room to open the door, squinting at how bright the morning was in comparison to the dark apartment.

“Good morning!” Gojo enthused. 

You blinked hard three or four times, willing reality to bend to make what you were seeing stop being true.

“Woah, you look like shit. Did you have a fun night?”  

“What?” you asked, baffled beyond comprehension.

“Who is it?” Ikki asked, coming out of the bathroom with billows of steam and only a towel around his waist, drying his hair absently. 

“I’ve come to retrieve my wayward student,” Gojo said. 

You stared at him, hungover and confused and wanting nothing more than to lay back down on that horribly uncomfortable couch and never get up. 

“Are you ready to go?” Gojo asked you when he got no answer. 

You let out an unsteady breath, closing your eyes for a second to try and gain some clarity or zen. Nope. That was a lost cause. 

“Give me a second, I have to use the bathroom,” you said, turning away from him towards the bedroom to get your bag. 

Haruka was still passed out, a fact you were very grateful for. You weren’t completely clear on the details of last night, but the broad strokes were all there. You slung your bag over your shoulder and went into the steamy bathroom. Clearing the mirror in squeaky finger-streaks proved Gojo right. You looked like shit.

After dry heaving a little as you brushed your teeth, you put on clean clothes and sorted out the mess that was your hair. It wasn’t perfect, but you didn’t look as awful as you felt. When you returned to the main room, Ikki was dressed. The room was heavy with awkward tension, although Gojo didn’t look at all uncomfortable. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what words were exchanged. 

“Ready to go?” Gojo asked. You sighed, throwing your bag over your shoulder. 

“I’ll talk to you later,” you told Ikki, smiling apologetically. 

And Ikki, in his endless wisdom, did the last thing you expected and grabbed you around the waist, pulling you in for a kiss. He stared at Gojo the whole time, aggression swirling around him thicker than any desire or affection. Using you to prove a point. That was unlike him. Gojo might’ve just had a way of pulling out the worst in people. 

“Call me later,” he said when he released you, winking.

“Bye,” you said, forcing a smile. 

“It was nice to see you again,” Gojo said, smiling and waving in a too-cheerful way. You walked out into the sunlight, wincing at how bright it was, going for the stairs without waiting for him to follow. 

“Did you have fun last night?” Gojo asked as you took the stairs down to ground level. 

“Yeah,” you said, too tired and irritable to play along. 

“You know, as your teacher, it’s my responsibility to look after your wellbeing,” Gojo said, hopping the last few steps to stay next to you. “Underage drinking can have very dire consequences. Especially when you’re spending the night at a man’s home. I would hate to think that you’d be taken advantage of.” 

“Why are you here?” you asked, turning to face him. “How did you know where to find me?” 

“I got back last night. I was worried when you weren’t on campus,” you could feel his gaze as he looked you up and down. “I’m glad to see you’re just fine.”

“Right,” you said. That didn’t answer your question, but you doubted you would get anything better. “Can we stop to get breakfast?” 

“Can you wait until we get to the station? We have to hurry to catch the train.” 

“Hurry for what?” 

“Didn’t you read my messages? You have a job,” he told you. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“You begged me for a chance to prove yourself, well here it is. If you do well on this mission, I’ll consider you for a promotion of sorts. Isn’t that exciting?” 

Through a series of increasingly unfortunate circumstances, the thread you were following led to a realization that the curse was based on the time of day. That is, exactly before sunrise. By the time you figured that out, you had about nine hours to kill.  

Gojo said he’d rent a room for you to rest, but it had to be close enough that you could be at the lot exactly on time. On short notice and in such a small area to select from, the choices of accommodations were slim. 

One room, one bed. If the embarrassment didn’t kill you, the cliche would. 

Gojo showering gave you some time alone to prepare yourself, at least. It wasn’t like you were afraid he would do anything, but you couldn’t say you were exactly comfortable with the arrangement. The whole day, you had been standoffish, but now you were just tired and nervous. Of course you wanted to prove yourself to him, but you also got angry every time you thought about him springing this on you when he knew you weren’t operating at your best. It felt calculated, but you knew that he would easily deny that if you accused him of anything.

The worst of everything was how meticulously he avoided any conversation about your behavior, or Ikki, or his own motivations for doing this. The more stormy your mood got, the bigger he smiled, and the more he acted the role of the caring teacher.  

Just like always, you felt like you were a little crazy. Drowning in delusions of self importance.��

You sat crossed legged on the foot of the bed and put on a ghost hunting show. If only being a sorcerer was like on TV. Dramatics, theatrics, silly devices, and easy answers. That had been your original hope when you started playing with Divination. You wanted something exciting, the cheap thrills weren't doing it anymore.

Well, you got what you wanted. You certainly weren't bored.

“What are we watching?” Gojo asked as he came out of the bathroom with a cloud of steam, drying his wet hair. You cleared your throat and averted your eyes from his partial nudity.

“Ghost Adventures,” you said, staring straight ahead at the screen.

“What’s that?” he asked as he got onto the bed, laying on top of the comforter. The robe mostly covered his bare torso.

“A ghost hunting show,” you answered. “It’s American.”

“Is it any good?” 

You snorted out a short laugh. “No. We don’t have to keep it on.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

You stared at the TV for a minute before checking your phone again. Haruka hadn’t texted you all day. At first, you were resolute that you would only accept an apology, but the longer you thought about it, the more you reasoned yourself to accept anything. 

“Isn’t it uncomfortable to sit like that?” Gojo asked, startling you. You turned off your phone screen, setting it on the bedside table. 

“I’m fine.” 

“I heard that if you sit with your back hunched like that you’ll get stuck that way.”

You rolled your eyes, although you did swing your legs around to lay against the headboard. As much as you wanted to pretend it wasn’t true, you were still tired from the previous night. Since he made no move to do it, you got under the stiff sheets, trying to fluff the lumpy pillow into comfortable submission. 

“Are you dissatisfied?” Gojo asked suddenly.  

“What?”

“Are you dissatisfied with your life as a sorcerer? When you first started at Jujutsu Tech I thought you were over your rebellious delinquent phase, but now you’re falling back into the same habits. I can only assume it’s because you’re dissatisfied.” 

“It was one night,” you argued. Chewing on the words and your lip for a second, you cast a sideways glare towards him. “If there weren’t such strict restrictions about when and how I can leave campus, I wouldn't have had to lie.”

“You’re still technically a student, of course there are restrictions. Do you think that’s unfair?” 

“Oyama doesn’t have the same restrictions.” 

“Oyama is nearly a Grade Two sorcerer, and he’s never had any behavioral issues.”

“Right,” you said, your voice flat. At least that was a different answer than you had gotten previously, some acknowledgement that you were getting unfair treatment. 

“If you’re this unhappy, why haven’t you said anything?” Gojo asked. 

You wondered how much he already knew or assumed. He wasn’t stupid, he was painfully perceptive. Unless it was all in your head, and he truly did not understand why you were reacting like this because he had no reason to think you would second guess his behavior and motivations.

“You already have a lot to worry about,” you told him. 

“I always have time for my cute little student. It’s my responsibility to see that you’re satisfied. I have noticed that you seem a little more tense. Is the stress starting to get to you? It’s important to talk about these things, you know. Otherwise they can spiral into a much larger problem. We have to rely on each other as sorcerers.”

“I’m fine.”

Gojo hummed. You pretended to be very interested in a case about some old haunted asylum where they tortured patients or whatever.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” Gojo said when the show cut to commercial. “Your abilities can be considered dangerous to yourself and those around you.”  

“What do you mean?” 

“Sorcerers and curse users go to great lengths to keep their techniques secret. The mere idea of your Divination puts them at risk. While it’s not fully refined yet, there is a non-zero chance that you will be able to read techniques in their entirety. I’m sure there are already conversations being had about taking you out. Nobody’s stupid enough to try anything when you’re under my protection, but if they saw a chance, they would jump at it.” 

“So I can’t leave,” you said, staring hard at the TV as a commercial for foot cream played out.

“You can!” Gojo said quickly, his voice energetically trying to placate you. “Neither myself or any other sorcerer will hold you against your will. You’re an adult, you can do what you please. I’m only telling you of the risks you face now.”

“How would they know about my technique?” you asked.

Gojo shrugged glibly, his expression just as unreadable without sunglasses or that bandage. “These things have a way of getting around.” 

In the very deepest part of your brain, you wondered if he didn’t have a hand in that. If he wouldn’t be willing to put you at risk if it meant you needed his protection. That was ridiculous. Truly. No matter what else Gojo had done, he hadn’t done anything you could call evil. The jujutsu world was just dangerous, and you already knew that. 

“I understand,” you said, trying to sound unaffected.

Neither of you spoke for a while, although you didn’t think he was watching the TV any more than you were. It was a ridiculous story and they were so deadly serious about their silly spirit boxes. 

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Gojo asked. “I’ll wake you up when it’s time.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I should. Do you want to turn it off?” 

“I don’t mind. You usually sleep with the TV or something on anyway, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, but…” You frowned, your assurance trailing off. How did he know that? 

“I’ve always wondered why,” Gojo said. “Are you afraid of the dark? That seems inconvenient for a sorcerer.”

“I have bad dreams,” you said.

“Will I have to worry about you waking up kicking and screaming?” 

“Bad, not scary,” you corrected him, trying to make yourself as comfortable as possible. “Isn’t it wonderful that no matter how hard you repress things when you’re awake, your brain can just shove it in your face when you’re defenseless?” 

“I understand that,” he told you with a wry smile.  

“So even the strongest has to deal with that?” you asked, stifling a yawn into your palm. “I guess there really is no hope for the rest of us.” 

“I’ve read that nightmares offer insights into our psyches,” Gojo said as you stared at the ceiling. “Things that we fear the most… and things we want the most.”

“I dream about my dad coming back,” you said softly, without thinking. You scrubbed your palms into your eyes, laughing humorlessly. “It’s pathetic. Sometimes I wish I’d dream about curses or whatever. The happy dreams are so much worse.”

“I truly believe that love is the worst curse of them all,” Gojo said softly.  

“You’re probably right.” After a moment, you added, ”I’m sorry. For whoever you dream about, I’m sorry.”

“Who said I dream of anything?’

You huffed. “Fine. I take back my sorry.” 

“You can’t, I’ve already accepted it. It warms my heart to think of my cute little student worrying about her sensei. What would you do to help me, I wonder?”

Your face scrunched up in disgust. “Nothing. Forget it.” 

“I’d be more than happy to return the favor, you know. If you’re lonely,” Gojo said, turning onto his side with his head propped up on his arm, “I can help you.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Liar,” Gojo said. “I’ve noticed how sad you are, how you refuse to reach out to anybody for support. I know what that's like."

“I don’t need anyone's support,” you said, avoiding his eyes. “I can either get over this, or I can’t. That’s on me.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Gojo said, even softer. “Even the strongest need help sometimes, and you’re hardly the strongest. I’m worried about you.” 

You sighed, even more annoyed. “Don’t be.”

Gojo groaned dramatically. “You make it so difficult to be a good teacher and mentor. I want to help you, but then you act like this. It’s like you’re trying to rile me up.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, a cold flush running through your stomach.

“I’m telling you that you should be more careful,” Gojo said. “I’m not entirely sure you realize that you could very well face consequences for your behavior.”

“Is that a threat or something?” you asked. 

“No, of course not,” he told you with a smile. “Now go to sleep, you’ll need it if you’re going to perform well tomorrow. Remember what’s at stake.” 

The next afternoon, after getting your wounds treated and taking a long nap to make up for two nights of barely any sleep, you stood in the classroom facing Gojo. You had been expecting bad news, but not quite to the gleefully dismissive extent that he saw fit to deliver it. 

“Suffice it to say, you did not meet my expectations. I guess you’re stuck with me for a while yet,” Gojo said, smiling like it was great news despite the attempted apologetic tone.

You grit your teeth. “Is this what you meant about consequences for my misbehavior?” 

“What do you mean?” Gojo asked, tilting his head curiously.

“I don’t know what you want, if you expect something from me or if you’re mad I’m dating or whatever, but I did a good job,” you said. “You know I did, so-” 

“You didn’t,” Gojo said, cutting you off. “I carefully evaluated every part of your performance, and I don’t think you’re ready to take on more complicated jobs. This isn’t a game. There are lives at stake. Your life, the lives of your fellow sorcerers, and the lives of the civilians we’re trying to protect. If you want to accuse me of trading favors or having an unfavorable bias, you’re more than welcome to take your case to the higher ups. I’m sure they would be delighted to hear of any perceived misconduct. Otherwise, I recommend you focus on your training.” 

You nodded stiffly, biting your tongue. “Yes, sir.”

“I know you’re upset, but it’s important that you don’t rush something you’re not ready for. You could get hurt.”  

“I understand. If you’ll excuse me then.” You turned to leave his office, your shoulders high and tense. 

“Oh, right! I was told this morning that you asked for a transfer,” Gojo said, snapping loud enough to make you wince. “It was denied.” 

You looked over your shoulder, a cold bit of dread sinking into your gut. 

“Kyoto doesn’t need any more sorcerers at the moment, especially when you're still such a low level sorcerer,” he told you, returning to that innocent tone. “Why was it that you wanted to transfer anyway?” 

“No reason,” you said, hiding your expression and leaving quickly.

The disappointment was bad, but what you hated more than anything with the humiliation. If Gojo were honest, then you could understand your failure, but not in the way he presented it to you. He was going out of his way to embarrass you. Hot bouts of sticky red fury filled your stomach and your head whenever you thought about it, a feeling so mean and aggressive that it hurt.

You couldn’t call your mom, you wouldn’t know what to tell her. Haruka still hadn’t texted you. Ikki had asked if you were alright, but there wasn’t anything you could think of to say to him. You knew what he wanted, what he expected from you by offering what he saw as help, but you couldn’t do that. Even if it pissed Gojo off, it wasn’t satisfying. He would view that sort of behavior as petty. It was petty.

If you were going to do something, it had to be big. Something that you weren’t supposed to do, something that would make a point, something that would soothe your embarrassment. When you felt yourself drawn to the map on your wall, pencil in hand, it was like a golden opportunity had fallen into your lap, gifted directly to you by fate.

“Oyama! We have a job,” you told him, acting like you were unhappy with the arrangement. 

“What are you talking about?” Oyama asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s a spot on my map.” You could see his hesitation so you feigned annoyance. “If you want to go alone, that’s fine, but Gojo told me I had to as a part of my evaluation.”

He believed it, not even checking to make sure you were telling the truth. 

As soon as you were conscious, a ragged gasp ripped up the inside of your dry throat, panic shooting through your veins like ice water. You groped your chest and stomach, searching for wounds that weren’t there. A little yelp of fear left your mouth and you wrenched your body upright. The sheet fell from your chest, making you realize that you were not dressed, and you were not alone. 

Ieiri shot you a concerned look, blowing a final puff of smoke out of the window into the dark night before butting the cigarette. “Careful,” she warned, “your wounds are healed, but you’re going to be weak.” 

Tugging the sheet up to cover your chest, you realized you were in the clinic, and then your memories crashed through the gauze of groggy ignorance. The curse, the fight, the terror, and then the stupidest plan you had ever concocted. Although you weren’t wounded anymore, you coughed weakly, your body reacting to the mere memory of suffocating on your own blood.

“How do you feel?” she asked. 

You groaned, falling flat onto your back. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.” 

“How much do you remember?” Ieriri asked, closing the window.  

“Everything.” Unfortunately. Your face scrunched up as you tried to put the horrific memories of your mutilated body out of your mind. “Is Oyama okay?” 

“He has a few bruises, nothing major.”

You nodded, relieved for that. If he got hurt after you forced him to take you along, you’d never live it down. After a second, you threw an arm over your face, something like a raspy laugh crackling its way out of your sore chest. “I think I did something extraordinarily stupid.” 

“Like using yourself as bait so your fellow sorcerer could exorcize a curse?” Ieiri asked dryly.  

You opened one eye to look at her. “Did it work?” 

“It did, although you very nearly died for it. The broken ribs were the worst. You’re lucky they didn’t puncture anything vital.” 

Hiking up the sheet over your healed chest, you sat up again. Your head spun, but the only pain you felt was phantom, like your brain was unable to reconcile the severe physical trauma with your perfectly healed body. 

“It was the strangest thing,” you said. “The curse was smart enough to know to attack the stronger sorcerer, but I… I forced it to focus on me.” You winced, a shiver of soul-deep revulsion slithering down your throat all the way to the pit of your stomach as you remembered what happened after that. Remembering pain after the fact was difficult enough, let alone thinking of the right words to describe the experience. 

“You need water,” Ieiri said, pressing a bottle of water into your hand. You eagerly accepted it, uncapping the bottle and chugging the whole thing. She was calm as ever, if tired. 

Capping the bottle, you cleared your throat again. “I don’t suppose I can borrow some clothes?” 

She patted a pile of folded clothes on the bedside table with a tired smile. “They won’t fit, but it’s better than streaking across campus.” 

“Thank you,” you said, wrapping yourself in the sheet to fully sit up. 

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Ieiri said, turning to leave the room. She paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at you. “Oh, before I forget, Satoru wants to see you as soon as possible. I doubt he expected you to wake up so quickly, I’m sure it can wait until morning.” 

You frowned, your stomach twisting up at the thought. “Where do you think he’ll be?” 

“He’s probably in his apartment. I doubt he’s asleep, if you wanted to talk to him now.” She snorted, shaking her head. “That man sleeps less than I do.”

“Got it,” you said. “Thanks.” 

She hesitated in the doorway, thinking about what she was going to say. “Satoru was very upset when he heard what happened. I know he worries about his students, but this is different.”

“How so?” you asked, tensing up at the faint insinuation.  

Ieiri sighed. “I’m not trying to involve myself, you’re free to do what you want. But, speaking as someone who has known Satoru for a while, be careful. I care for him, but his nature doesn’t always lend itself to respectable behavior.” 

“Okay,” you said flatly, narrowing your eyes at her. You didn’t get the sense of any malice or disgust, but the words were obviously pointed. 

“That’s all,” Ieiri said with a light shrug, leaving the room and closing the door. You squeezed your eyes shut, wondering what to think about that. You didn’t know if you wanted to believe her or not. It was the first time anybody confirmed some of the strange things you felt about the man, but you didn’t know if that made it any better. 

Besides, you hadn’t so purposefully baited a reaction just to shy away now. 

At twelve-twenty-five, you left the clinic. Considering you almost died earlier that day, you didn't feel too terrible. Every muscle in your body was sore and shaky, like you had been training too hard, but you had just slept for nine hours. Even if you laid down, you wouldn’t sleep. If Gojo wanted to talk, you would talk. The reasoning behind it was, on the surface, because you wanted to get it over with. 

There might have been more to your compulsion, but you were too irritable to interrogate your motivation.  

Before going over, you stopped by your room to exchange Ieiri’s borrowed clothes for a clean shirt, oversized hoodie, fresh panties, and a pair of shorts. While you were there, you took the time to wipe the mascara rings out from under your eyes, swipe on some lip balm, and pull your hair back to mitigate the mess. What you really needed was a full coat of foundation and some dry shampoo, but the idea that you were so desperate to impress him pissed you off even more.

On your way to the faculty apartments on the edge of campus, you thought about the best way to handle this. Gojo would know why you lied and disobeyed him, he wasn’t stupid. There wasn’t any way you could think of to reframe the narrative either. You did it because you wanted to, and because you were angry about his ruling, and because you thought you could get away with it, and because you felt the need to act out against his authority. 

You still weren’t sure what you were going to say when you stopped in front of his door, knocking before you lost your nerve. Footsteps sounded almost immediately from the other side, and then the door slid open. Gojo stood on the other side. He was dressed down for the night, wearing a casual t-shirt and sweatpants. His hair was messy and eyes uncovered, sparkling in the faint light from the lamps along the path. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow.” 

“Yep, I’m all fixed up,” you said, throwing your arms out as if to present yourself. “Ieiri said you wanted to see me.”

“I can wait until you’re better rested,” Gojo said, putting on a dramatic frown.

You sighed, feeling awkward of all things. The whole time, you had been geared up for some sort of confrontation, but he was so calm, behaving just like he always did. Maybe Ieiri had misunderstood his mood. 

“I don’t think I could sleep with this hanging over my head,” you told him. “Unless this is a bad time.” 

“No, it’s fine. Come in,” Gojo said, opening the door wider to usher you through. 

Despite the traditional exterior, his apartment was decorated in a plain yet clearly expensive style, a marble coffee table and velvet upholstery and understated lighting. What struck you the most was how good it smelled inside. The TV was on, but muted, splashing color and light into the dim room. 

“Do you want tea?” Gojo offered, shutting the door. “Water? Strawberry milk?” 

“I’m okay, thanks,” you said. “I’d rather get this over with.”  

“Get what over with?” Gojo asked as he walked around you. He wasn’t wearing shoes, so you toed yours off, setting them next to his.

“You’re going to yell at me, aren’t you?” you said, maintaining a casual demeanor despite your anxiety.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he said, dropping onto the couch. Those were unmistakably Fendi Pequin stripes on the armrests, the thing must have cost a small fortune and yet he was lounging on it. “Do you want me to?” 

“Not especially.”  

“How about you sit down,” Gojo offered, patting the spot on the couch beside him. You shuffled from foot to foot, rethinking your decision to come to his place so late at night. It was so far down from all of the other buildings. Even if you screamed, nobody would hear you. But that was stupid. He could have done anything he wanted to do to you in the hotel, and he didn’t. You were making things up to justify your discomfort.

You sat down stiffly, more than aware that you were sitting on a piece of furniture that cost as much as your mom’s car. 

Gojo shut off the TV, leaving the two of you in the intimate near dark. It had been muted, but somehow the room felt even more quiet. His attitude was horribly off-putting. Ieiri said he seemed upset, but you weren’t getting that at all. If anything, he seemed more relaxed than the last time you saw him. 

The silence dragged on and on, you had no idea what to do or say. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, not when they were uncovered and you were alone. 

Finally, he sighed theatrically. “This is my own fault,” Gojo said. “I’ve always known you had behavioral problems. I thought—I hoped that it wouldn’t come to this. You could have died.”

“But I didn’t,” you pointed out, keeping your voice steady. “Nobody died, the curse got exorcized, and everything’s fine.” 

“Is that your defense for disregarding my authority, lying, and putting yourself and Oyama at risk?” 

“It’s not a defense,” you said. “It’s a statement of fact.” 

Gojo laughed, a sound that made you flinch away. It wasn’t forced, he sounded genuinely amused. “You are such a pain in the ass,” he said, smiling as if he was endeared by it. “I can’t tell if you’re unafraid of the consequences or if you really don’t believe you’ll face any.” 

“I did face consequences,” you argued. “Didn’t Ieiri tell you how badly I was injured?”  

“That’s not enough, is it? If you have the chance, you'll definitely do something like this again. The danger is a part of the thrill for a girl like you.” He hummed thoughtfully. “No, I need to take care of the underlying issue.”

“The underlying issue?” you repeated.

“You have no respect for authority—mine or otherwise.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sensei. I have the deepest respect for you,” you said, looking up at him with innocently wide eyes. It didn’t get the rise you wanted, his expression didn’t change. The unrelenting calm and friendly demeanor he maintained was beginning to creep you out.   

“Normally, I don’t mind. I understand; I can’t stand people ordering me around. With you, though, it really irritates me. Maybe I should try a little more discipline.”

“What are you going to do, spank me?” you asked, raising a brow. You could hear how desperate your sarcasm sounded, an attempt to regain control over the situation.

Gojo’s head titled as he considered your taunt. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.” 

You rolled your eyes, your hands curling into fists to hide your increasing anxiety. If you could read his feelings, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but you couldn’t tell how serious he was. “You’re funny.” 

“Oh? But that wasn’t a joke. I think that might help fix your attitude.” 

“So breaking my ribs wasn’t good enough, but that is?” you asked, disguising your fear and dread with more desperate scorn. “Come on, don’t be gross.”

“It was your suggestion.” 

“I was joking! I didn’t actually… I mean, you can’t just…” You shook your head rather than try to finish that statement, kicking yourself for getting so flustered. 

“You were never punished as a child,” Gojo said. “You said your dad left? I bet that, after that, your mom grew distant. She yelled at you, but you never faced any serious consequences for your misbehavior. You only got better at hiding your indiscretions. Is that it?” 

“That’s not your business,” you said, every muscle in your body drawing up tight in response to that accusation. 

“Children who aren’t taught boundaries and respect grow up to be rotten adults,” Gojo said. “Spoiled, rude, self-important adults.” With every word he moved closer.

“You would know, right?” you said, clinging onto the strength of attempted wit.

Gojo smiled. “Oh yes, I know very well. I’m rotten too. Shoko told you, didn’t she? That’s why you look so scared right now.”

“I’m not scared,” you said, clenching your jaw.

“There's been something I've been meaning to tell you for a while,” Gojo said. He put a finger beneath your chin to lift it, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re not as complicated of a woman as you think you are. I know you think you’re better, but in reality you’re playing the same games, just with different rules. All of the posturing to get my attention, the misbehaving, the petty tricks to make me jealous–you're so obvious.” He let out a relieved breath, smiling. “Whew, I’m glad I finally got that out.”

“What are you even saying?” You asked, pulling away from him, shaking your head fast. “This is a joke, right?”

“I almost pity you. It isn’t entirely your fault. You’re young, ignorant, and weak, you couldn’t possibly have known where this would go. It’s not in your nature to leave well enough alone.”

“Stop it,” you said, your voice harsh. 

“I’m the same,” Gojo continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “It’s not in my nature to spare the weak or ignorant just because I feel bad for them. I’m not nearly that nice.” 

“I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” he asked. “You showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night begging me to punish you. I am a man. Even I have my limits. You've been testing them from the beginning.”

“You have to stop,” you said, your demand taking on the edge of a whine. “This is insane.”

“I’ll give you one last chance, okay? Prove me wrong. Leave,” Gojo said, backing off and gesturing to the door. “This is it, this is the last time you’ll get away without facing any consequences.” 

“Gojo, why are you-” 

“Three.”

“Nnn-no, wait, I-”

“Two.”

You stood up, swaying on your feet, but you didn’t run. You took one step back from him, afraid, but you didn’t run.

“One,” Gojo said, grunting the word as he got to his feet and picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder.

“No!” you shouted, struggling to escape his grasp as he carried you further into the apartment. “Stop it, put me-put me down! Stop, I want to go! I’ll leave! Put me down!”

“I warned you what would happen, it’s not my fault you never listen,” Gojo said, dumping you onto his bed. You bounced once, scrambling to get up and away. “No, don’t move,” he ordered, his voice low and authoritative, freezing you in place. His eyes sparkled inhumanly in the dim light. 

“I want to go,” you said, softly, your heart racing, pounding harder because you couldn’t move. “I’m leaving, I’m going and-” 

“No, you’re not,” he said, rolling his eyes as he opened a drawer on the nightstand, looking inside with a thoughtful expression. “By all means, keep up the act. The whole brat thing is pretty hot. There’s no point in punishing a girl who’s well-behaved.”

“What are you going to do?” you asked.

“I’m going to spank you for being such a naughty student,” Gojo said. “I don’t want to be too cruel, I know you’re sensitive. That’s fine. I can be nice too.” He looked up at you. “Do you think you can stay still on your own, or…?” He smirked. “Of course you can't.”

“You’re scaring me,” you said, hoping the words would break his act. 

“Don’t be afraid,” Gojo told you, rolling his eyes like you were being unreasonable. “I won’t hurt you that much.” 

You were going to be sick. “You can’t-”

“Of course I can,” Gojo said, pulling what you recognized as a vibrating wand and a pair of handcuffs from the drawer. “What you mean to say is that I shouldn't. You’re right about that. I'm well aware that this is a bad idea, and I might regret it, but it's too late to let that stop me. You know the feeling, don't you?” 

“No, no. You,” you shook your head, unable to form the words in your shock and disbelief at this situation, “you can’t.” 

“You already said that,” Gojo said, putting the toys on the bed to kneel on the very edge. You flinched away, but you didn’t dare run. He would definitely catch you, you could feel the thrill in his cursed energy. It was all a game. 

“I know,” you said, trying to think of the words to reason with him and coming up short, “but… You can’t.”

“The way you’re looking at me is too good,” he said with a boyish grin. “You genuinely can’t believe that somebody finally called your bluff.”

You shook your head. 

“I think this will be good for you,” he said. “You need to learn this lesson. It’s better to learn it here, in a controlled environment.” 

Gojo grabbed your legs before you could scramble away. You yelped, slapping his hands when he grabbed your hips. That did nothing to deter him from flipping you onto your belly and wrestling your hoodie and shirt off before collecting your arms and pulling them behind your back. Even though you were fighting him so hard that it hurt, he was barely trying, as if the process of overpowering you was as inconsequential as putting the leash on a small dog. You cried out as he secured your wrists in the handcuffs, giving them a solid tug to test their hold. They were lined with soft material, but they obviously weren’t the fuzzy bachelorette party kind that could be easily escaped. There was no way you could get out of them on your own. You tried to use your cursed energy to break free, but it did nothing. Had he reinforced them somehow? Was that possible? 

“Gojo, stop,” you demanded. “You can’t do this, you can’t!”

“It’s humiliating, isn’t it?” he asked, pulling your panties and shorts off in one go, getting them over your legs no matter how hard you tried to kick him off. “Being at the mercy of another person. Next time you think about misbehaving, think about this feeling.”

“Stop it!” you yelled, truly thrashing now. He grunted, sitting with his legs aside your torso, threatening to crush you. “Stop, get off. You’re hurting me!” 

“It’s okay if you fight,” Gojo said. “But you know it doesn’t matter, don’t you? You’re so weak.”

“Stop it! Just—ngh-” He shoved your panties into your mouth before you could finish that thought, muffling the words. You just yelled in disgust, in despair, in anger. And it didn’t matter.

Gojo leaned over you, brushing your hair away from your ear to speak directly into it.

“I’m sure you’re having a difficult time thinking clearly, but it’s important you remember what I’m about to tell you,” he said. “The next time I allow you to speak, I expect you to address me properly. I really don’t think that’s too unfair. I am your teacher, I deserve some respect, don't you agree?”

You shouted through the gag, shaking your head back and forth. 

Gojo hummed, dropping his shirt on the bed next to you. He lifted his weight from your back and turned around to sit on the edge of the bed. You used the opportunity to roll onto your side, trying to get away from him, but Gojo had no problem collecting you, letting you flop on the bed across his lap while you writhed helplessly. The first touch of his hand against the back of your bare thighs made you jump, tears of humiliation already pressing against the corners of your eyes.

“How many, do you think?” he asked.

No.

There was no way. You shouted in panic, kicking your legs. There was still a part of you that simply rejected this all, that couldn’t believe this would happen. Things like this didn’t happen to you. Not you.  

Gojo’s palm landed loudly against your ass, the smack striking your skin with a burst of stinging pain and the sickening flush of humiliation.  

“I knew you were going to be a problem from the first time we met,” he told you, rubbing his palm over the sore spot. “You think you’re better than everyone else. I can’t stand undeserved self-importance.”

He spanked you five times in quick succession, spreading them out across your ass and upper thighs. You struggled and yelled and kicked, but his other hand easily kept you in place. 

“You’re not fighting very hard. I really thought it would be harder. Are you sure you weren’t secretly hoping I’d do this? You can admit it, I won’t tell anyone.”

You shouted, pooling up all over your cursed energy to fight him off. Gojo rewarded you by spanking you more, focusing on your upper thighs, slapping the same spots over and over until your shouting became sobbing and the skin buzzed, burning red hot. 

“I know, that wasn’t very nice,” he said, rubbing the sore flesh, coaxing it out of becoming too numb to his touch. “You’re not very nice either, are you? Wearing all those cute little outfits to tempt me, flaunting that guy to make me jealous.” You yelled in fear when he raised his hand, but he only playfully tapped your ass, digging his long fingers in to knead it, just playing with you. “And then using your friend to taunt me… I think you deserve to be punished for that, don’t you?” 

You shook your head frantically, squirming and writhing and kicking to escape. But he spanked you again, and again, and all you could do was endure the pain. Gojo mixed in the playful swats with genuine strikes, keeping you crying, always on the edge, unsure if he was going to hurt you or not, not when he was going to stop or where this would go. 

You weren’t counting, and you weren’t sure if he was either, but eventually he let up.

“Mmm, that looks like it hurts,” he said, tracing the tender flesh with his fingertips. You cried, glad he couldn’t see your face. “Poor little thing. Okay, let’s-” Gojo flipped you around, pulling you up onto his lap. 

Putting any amount of pressure on your stinging ass made you yelp, your back arching. He didn’t care. He grabbed the vibrator and flicked it on, pushing the head past your pussy’s outer lips to buzz against your entrance before dragging up, drawing slick circles around your clit. You thrashed against him, but your kicking legs couldn’t do anything and there was nowhere to go. Gojo moved with your struggling in an indulgent way, like he was wrangling a disobedient animal, letting you tire yourself out as he tilted the wand this way and that to really grind it against your clit.

“It’s a little intense, I know,” he said. “If you just relax and let yourself enjoy it, you’ll feel so much better.”

You pressed your face against his shoulder, telling him to stop. The words were all mush, muffled by your own panties. Every part of your body was alive and awake and agonizingly sensitive, covered in a thin film of sweat and goose-flesh and anticipation. When he casually toyed with one of your nipples, you felt it like a jolt of electric heat straight down between your legs. The vibrator’s steady hum bypassed any reasonable objection your body would have to pleasure, a reaction as invasive and involuntary as pain. 

When you realized you were going to come—going to come like this—you shouted, straining your shoulders in an attempt to escape the cuffs. Gojo laughed, holding you tight as you spasmed and jerked around in his lap. Your hips bucked and the vibrator pressed against your clit just right and you almost blacked out.

“Aha, that’s it, isn’t it?” Gojo asked happily, grinding the vibrator there. 

Toomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuch—it hurt. You tried to tell him that, you tried to fight your way out of his grasp, you tried to do anything you could to escape but it didn’t matter as your body shuddered with the orgasmic flash of pleasure, a feeling so intense it felt like nausea. 

You came with a helpless cry, hiding your face against his shoulder as you jerked with each wave of stifling, intoxicating, sickening heat.

Gojo didn’t stop. You reared back to meet his eye and he just grinned, looking down between your legs to make sure he was keeping the vibrator in exactly the right place to make you spasm and kick and choke, panicked and overwhelmed. 

You didn’t know if you were coming again or if it was just one long string of overstimulation tricking your mind into pleasure, but you felt it draw out like soda fizz all the way to your fingertips and toes.

“Okay, what have you learned so far?” Gojo asked, shutting the vibrator off and setting it aside. You mumbled something into the gag, tossing your head back and forth. “Oh, right.” He laughed, pulling your panties out of your mouth. “What have you learned?”  

“Stop!” you told him in a wrecked voice, glaring at him with watery eyes. “It doesn’t matter how many times you spank me, or-or… I’m not playing along with your-your sick games, I’m not…” You closed your eyes, struggling to get out of his lap, sobbing and panting and angry and humiliated and- 

“Wrong.” Gojo shoved your panties back into your mouth. “You know what? I’m glad you’re a difficult student. Really,” he said. “It’ll be so much more rewarding when you finally learn your lesson.”

You ignored him, squeezing your eyes shut and turning your face away. 

“It doesn’t matter what I do to you,” he mused. “That’s what you said, right?” 

Without warning, Gojo’s hand landed directly between your legs with a sharp smack. You screamed, really screamed, squeezing your thighs together until the muscles trembled. 

“Oi, open your legs,” Gojo told you, his voice low and serious, more than you had ever heard.

You kept your eyes shut, shaking your head fast. 

“You’re saying you won’t?” he asked, his fingers tracing along the seam between your legs. 

You shook your head again, trying to squirm out of his lap. 

“Oh my, what a brave girl,” Gojo cooed mockingly, grabbing one of your legs to pry them apart, catching it with his own leg and pinning it against the bed. He spanked your pussy two, three, four more times, each one making your body jolt violently, another cry gurgling out of your throat. 

When his hand landed with a sickening smack for the fifth time, it stayed there, his fingers curling to find your entrance. You bucked against him, shouting for him to stop. Asking him to stop. The words were muffled, there was nothing you could do other than cry and toss your head to the side as he pushed his fingers into you, you couldn’t even close your legs.

“What’s this?” Gojo asked, pulling his fingers out of you. They glistened with evidence of your arousal, of your shame. “It really makes me question which one of us is sick.”

“You!” you shouted, trying to make yourself heard over the gag. 

“Me?” Gojo asked, his eyes wide with innocence. “You’re the one who’s getting wet for your teacher. That’s pretty twisted.” 

He pushed his fingers back into your pussy, driving them deep and curling them on the way out. For the first time, his breathing was getting unsteady. He kept rolling his hips up to grind against your ass, letting you feel his erection. 

“Aaah, you’re really wet. And tight.” He thrust his fingers back into you with a wet squish, scissoring and curling them to make you spasm and shake. “Hey, hey, I’m gonna give you an out right now, okay?” Gojo said, his voice quick with excitement. “If you ask me nicely, we can suspend your punishment and get on to the fun stuff instead.”

He pulled his fingers out to take your panties out of your mouth, dropping them onto the bed. 

“Come on,” Gojo said. “Ask me. I know you want it.” 

You set your jaw, glaring at him through teary eyes. It was weak, pathetic, and petty, but silence was the only thing you could think to do that wasn’t giving him what he wanted. 

He frowned, put out with your response. 

“Jeez, you’re such an insufferable brat!” Gojo complained, flipping you onto your stomach. The sudden slap of skin meeting skin followed by the pain when he spanked you again made you scream, your legs pathetically kicking, your shoulders straining to free your hands.

“Stop!” you yelled, your voice shrill.

“Oh? But I thought you were being brave?” He said mockingly, spanking you again, and again. 

You sobbed, pressing your face into the bed to muffle yourself as his hand came down again. Even though you fought him, there was nothing you could do to make him stop. True helplessness. It hurt, and there was no escape from it. Not when he took the time to brush his fingers across the tortured skin in between bursts, soothing you with a gentle touch. 

“I don’t understand why you’re being such a baby about this,” Gojo said. He grabbed one of your stinging ass cheeks, pulling it to get a good look at your pussy. You knew you were wet. It wasn’t your fault, but you felt the same shame. “It can’t hurt that bad. If I used a cane or a belt or something I’d get it, but I think you’re just making a big deal to try and make me feel bad. It’s not working. You deserve this and, between you and me, it’s kind of sexy to see you so pathetic.”

Without warning, Gojo tossed you onto the bed face up, your arms pinned uncomfortably beneath your back. Your back arched and you dug your heels into the mattress, pushing yourself up the bed until you were curled against the headboard, your legs up to try and hide as much of your body as possible. 

“By the way, are you a virgin?” Gojo asked, shoving his pants and underwear off in one go before looking for something on the floor. He found it quickly, returning to the bed. He didn’t care about his nudity. Why should he? He was beautiful and he knew it. Of course Satoru Gojo wouldn’t stop at being the strongest, or the most handsome, or whatever, of course he would have the perfect cock too. “I don’t care either way, I’m just curious.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, averting your eyes from his body to meet his as you pushed yourself into the headboard. They glittered in the dim light, wide and excited.  

“No, you’re not a virgin?” Gojo asked. You realized what he had grabbed from the floor when he caught your ankle, forcing your foot through a loop he’d made with his belt. 

“No! No, no, stop!” You shouted, trying to keep him from getting your other foot. He frowned when you kicked at him, desperate to keep him away. The resistance of his cursed energy kept you from actually kicking him, and you were rewarded with a hard, mean slap against your inner thigh. You squealed, giving him the chance to get your other foot in the belt cuffs before securing them.

“I was gonna be nice about this, but I guess not,” he said. You whined, sobbing. “You probably like it rough anyway, right? Girls like you always do.” 

He pushed your knees up to make space between your legs, letting your bound ankles fall onto his back. You watched him stroking his cock. This was going to happen. He truly intended to fuck you. It didn’t set in until right in that moment how utterly powerless you were to this violation. His fingers had been one thing, but his cock was big enough to hurt if he wasn’t gentle.

“Don’t do this,” you whispered, your voice weak and pathetic. “Satoru, I’m begging you not to. I’m sorry, okay? That’s what you want me to say, right? I’m sorry, so don’t-”

“It’s too late for that,” Gojo said, separating your pussy’s outer lips, his tongue peeking out as he lined up his cock. You made a helpless sound of upset, trying to buck him off, but there was nowhere for you to go. “If you were really sorry, you should have apologized when I gave you the chance.” He pushed his hips forward, just a little, testing the resistance. 

“Sensei!” you said, your panicked thoughts finding something to cling onto to make him stop. “Sensei, please stop. Please.” 

Gojo smiled, his lips parting when he forced the head of his cock past the initial resistance of your pussy with a jarring pop. He groaned, both of his hands holding onto your waist while he shallowly rocked his hips. 

Your mouth fell open, a sensation like shock striking against the viscerally real weight of his dick inside of you. That fell away to panic when he began to move, pushing a little deeper with a pinching ache. 

“Ah—fff-take it out!” you squealed.

“Ah, and you were being so good for me,” he said, jolting your body with a hard, mean thrust. You whimpered, and writhed, and your pussy clamped down around him to try and force him out, but it didn’t matter. He was bigger and stronger and you were drenched from the vibrator. “Look at me.” 

As soon as you met his eye, he pushed a little deeper, clearly reveling in the way it made your expression twist in pain and betrayal, more tears forming in your eyes and streaking down your temples. He licked his lips, rolling his hips shallowly to let you adjust to the size and weight of his cock. Like he was being nice. 

“How can I feel bad when you look at me like that?” he asked, his voice lower and breathy. He pushed deeper again, your body jolting and a helpless sound punched out of your chest. 

“It hurts,” you ground out through your teeth, more tears falling into your hair. The desire to be brave faded in direct relation to how much of his cock was inside of you. Being spanked was one thing, but the internal pain of violation wasn’t something you could handle. It was too intimate, too profound, too cruel.  

“Yeah, you’re way too tight. That guy clearly hasn’t been fucking you properly. Do you want your sensei to make it better? I’ll help you, all you have to do is ask.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, weighing your options. Option. “Please, sensei,” you said, hating yourself a little more.

“Look at me when you’re begging,” Gojo said. 

You winced, but the sudden snap of his hips made you relent. You met his dangerous, beautiful eyes. “Please, Gojo-sensei. It hurts, please make it better.” 

“Aw, you’re such a good girl,” he cooed, grabbing your cheeks. “Of course I’ll help you.” His hand lowered to pin you down by the neck while he fumbled in the sheets beside you with the other. You heard the vibrator turn on a second before it was against your clit. There wasn’t anywhere for your body to go when you seized up, your back snapping into a nearly painful arch. 

“No!” you yelped, but it was hard to get anything out from the obstruction of his hand on your neck. 

It didn’t matter that his cock was big enough to hurt as he continued to push it into you. It didn’t matter that your shoulders burned or that your hands were numb. 

“Go ahead and come,” Gojo told you sweetly. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? It’ll make this easier.”

You grit your teeth, breathing out hard through your nose, trembling as that little bubble burst, your pussy spasming around his cock as he began to set a steady pace. When his hips met your ass, slapping against the raw skin, you cried and yelled, but it all got lost in the confused haze of pleasure and pain and confusion and disgust and so much, too much.  

Gojo was laughing. Fucking you too fast and too hard, focusing the vibrator right against your clit to keep you moving with him, your body writhing beneath his like you wanted it, soaking his cock until the room was filled with the profane sound of skin slapping and wet squelching.

“Mmm, it feels good, right?” Gojo asked. “I know you think I’m mean, but I really only want to take care of you.”

You came again, babbling the words ‘no’ and ‘can’t’ and ‘stop’ as if they had any meaning anymore, as if you weren’t well on your way to coming again despite how torturous the excess of stimulation had become. 

“Sometimes, that means I have to be a little hard on you.” He fucked you hard enough to knock your head into the headboard, the entire thing pounding against the wall with each solid thrust. It hurt, it felt like he was splitting you apart, slamming against your cervix without even an attempt at kindness. But, at the same time, he turned the vibrator up a setting, rubbing little circles onto your clit. 

Gojo put a hand on your mouth to stifle your scream, it was that loud and shrill, borderline feral with the terrifying intensity of your orgasm. You didn’t want to come anymore. You really didn’t, you felt like you were going to die if you did. And he laughed, giving up on the hard pace to fuck you fast, his breathing becoming increasingly unsteady and his laugh shivering out into moans.

Sobbing into his hand, you came again, unable to understand anything beyond the cock pounding into you and the vibrator torturing your clit. 

Gojo dropped the vibrator suddenly, pulling out of you with a helpless sound. For a second, you heard the lewd schlick schlick schlick of his hand desperately fisting his cock and then you felt hot spurts of cum on your chest and your stomach. He finally took his hand off of your mouth, turning the vibrator off. All you could hear was your breathing and his breathing and the frantic pounding of blood in your ears. 

“Whew, okay,” Gojo said, lifting your legs to get out from under them. “Where were we with the lesson? I think… I was spanking you and you were being a brat about it. Have you had a change of heart?” 

You sobbed brokenly, squeezing your eyes shut. Trying to adjust to the shift of tone while you were still reeling from getting fucked, your torso covered in sweat and cum, felt like one of the most cruel things he had done so far. 

“Please, sensei, please no more,” you begged, your voice breathy and cracking at the end. “Gojo-sensei please, I-I do, I respect you. I’ll—anything, please just…” 

“Ahh, there’s a good girl. Finally,” Gojo said gently. “Okay, three more, and then I’ll forgive you.”

“No!” you cried hoarsely. “Please, no more.” You strained against the cuffs, thrashing as much as you were able. “Please, I’ll do… Please.”

“I need to make sure the lesson sticks,” Gojo said sweetly. “You’ve been so unreceptive. Three more, and then I’ll let you come again.”

“No!” you squealed, even more upset by that. The idea of feeling the vibrator again physically hurt, it was almost worse than the idea of him spanking you again. 

“I want you to count them, okay?” Gojo asked pitilessly.  

You sobbed, shaking your head, but you couldn’t do anything when he rolled you onto your belly. 

“Don’t be so dramatic about it,” he scolded, getting behind you and pulling your hips up so you were on your knees, your back arching. He spanked you and you yelped, burying your face in the pillows. Gojo waited before sighing. “Count them, otherwise I’ll lose track. You wouldn’t want that, would you? We’d be here all night.” 

You sniffled, peeling your face out of the pillows to turn your head.  “One,” you whispered.

His hand landed again, right over the first. You cried out a word that mostly sounded like, “Two!” 

And again, one of the hardest so far. “Thre-EE-”

“There, wasn’t that easy?” Gojo cooed, flipping you around and grabbing your ankles by the belt cuffs, pushing your knees up to your chest. When you heard the vibrator turn on, you tried to get away, squealing out your objections, sobbing and desperate and flinching away from the mere idea of more. It was like being presented with a bottle of liquor after a bout of alcohol poisoning. 

“No, please no more, I can’t, please.”

“I told you, one more,” Gojo said. “You can do one more, can’t you? I think you can.” 

You wailed when he pushed the vibrator against your swollen, oversensitive pussy, grinding it in little circles right over your clit while you spasmed and shook and tried desperately to escape the inevitable.

Coming when you were so overstimulated wasn’t pleasant, it was just more and more and too much, all of it piled onto your overloaded nervous system and making you shake as the pitiless heat flared up to bursting, pulling your body taut, and then it snapped, leaving you even more helplessly, hopelessly overstimulated than before. 

Gojo didn’t pull it away, continuing to grind the vibrator against your clit, cruelly drawing out your feverish torment. 

You wailed, your head tossing back into the pillows, your hips wildly trying to twist out of his reach. “Yo—ou said-”

“One more,” Gojo finished for you. “Come on, don’t be such a baby about it.” 

Your nostrils flared and you sobbed pathetically and your pussy felt like it was burning just as desperately as your sore ass, but Gojo was going to wring one more orgasm out of you. It wasn’t hard, even if it hurt. Even if you cried and shook and felt the world darken around the edges when you felt the surge of pleasure fizzle out through you before it left you pained and panting and miserable. 

But he finally shut the toy off, letting it fall to the side.  

“What do we say?” Gojo asked, dropping your legs and falling onto his side next to you, propping his head up with one hand. 

You groaned, your chest hitching with every breath. “I don’t…” 

“Thank you, sensei,” he prompted sweetly, “for teaching me manners.” 

“Thank you, sensei,” you repeated dumbly, keeping your eyes closed rather than acknowledge his heavy stare. “Thank you for teaching me manners.” 

He laughed. “Wow, that’s really embarrassing. Earlier you were bragging about how it didn’t matter what I did to you, weren’t you? I was almost impressed with your resolve, it’s a shame to see it cave in so easily. What happened?”

You sobbed, shaking your head. “Shut up, you’re… It wasn’t my fault, it was you who… who…”

Gojo hissed, pulling a breath in through his teeth. It was a bad sound. A dangerous sound. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” you said, your eyes snapping open with fear. “I’m sorry, I’m…”

He frowned. “Maybe you haven’t learned your lesson after all,” he heaved out a big breath, sitting up. “That’s fine, I’m ready to go again. Anything for my favorite student, hm?” 

[girlwtdragontattoo]

In your debt - Part 3

Young Halsin x Reader

Art belongs to @ozumii-fucking-wizard, I also used their Young Halsin headcanon list as a reference :) i love the idea of him being a bit hotheaded in his younger years hehe

Find Part 1 and Part 2 here.

Slow burn, sorry. But the next part will get spicy, I promise. >:D

Song in this fic:

Warning: Swearing

-----

You awoke on a huge matt, covered in a thick quilt. Your eyes adjusted to the dim light as you scanned your surroundings. You were staring at a large tent peak above you, which swayed sleepily in the wind. You turned your head slightly, examining the area further. Smoldering embers cracked softly in the middle of the room, with various tiny cushions placed around it. A kettle peeped, hovering above the low fire, green steam escaping its mouth. Adorning the tent were many little trinkets: dreamcatchers, windchimes, wooden toys and engraved clay pots decorated the walls and small shelves. The ground looked slightly sandy next to you, furthering the softness of your position. The matt was far too big for you, so was the quilt. You looked like a little mouse had sneaked into the cat’s bed.

You noticed a stinging sensation and remembered what happened with the goblin.

Your hands drifted under the covers to your pulsating side. A thick piece of rough fabric met your fingers and as you pawed along carefully, you realized it was bandaging. The pain was dull, but made its evil presence known.

That’s right. You were with Halsin. In his village.

You had no idea what else the dreamy druid had done while you were knocked out. You must’ve looked like a corpse.

You noticed you were wearing different clothes. This long sleeve tunic wasn’t yours and neither were the wide pants you spied while lifting the covers.

Had he…had he changed you? You blushed at the thought.

Had he seen you naked???

You attempted to sit up, quickly, which turned out to be a mistake. Deciding to prop yourself up carefully, you hovered over your unwounded side, relying on the strength of your arm. You eyed the large mug of water close to you, bringing it hastily to your dry lips.

It tasted so clean. You realized how gross the water really was back in the city.

You finished the water in a few gulps and placed the mug back where you found it.

Just then, your ears picked up a distant conversation. The voices were agitated. You weren’t able to get up and walk towards the entrance, so you strained your ears to listen carefully.

You recognized Halsin’s voice, who sounded exceedingly frustrated.

“So, your solution is just to ignore the looming threat? How on earth can you be so thick?”, he growled at an unknown male speaker.

“That is no tone to take with me, novice. You’re in no position to question my decision”, the other man answered, his tone so low it made the hairs on your arm stand up. Who was this?

You heard repetitive, thudding footsteps. It sounded like someone angrily pacing.

Halsin spoke again, his intonation louder than before: “If they tried once, they will do so again. And with more devastation. More goblins! They want our children for some sick game and you would rather do nothing!”

“The only person making that claim is lying halfdead in your tent. You do not know them. I do not know them! I will not send a group towards certain death because a stranger made a groggy statement!”, the other man met Halsin’s tone, with warning etched within.

You felt your stomach drop. The terrified faces the children had made while Izick was fighting you flashed before you. You knew you were telling the truth, but how could they know that?

“Uncle, they are the reason our children are safely returned to us!” There was a slight pause and you heard him step towards the tent, perhaps pointing. “If they hadn’t intervened, the drow-“

“Silence!”, the man Halsin addressed as uncle bellowed, the echo reverberating through the area.

“I do not care what could or would have happened. I care about the facts of the situation. It was YOUR task to watch over them. And YOU left Zacharia alone so that you could feel like a hero. Zacharia’s death and the possible fate of your brothers’ and sisters’ is on your conscien-“

A mighty roar interrupted the uncle’s chastising. A second followed with thundering thuds and tremors. Slicing through the chaos, you heard an assertive, older woman’s command:

“ENOUGH! Halsin, Dafydd. Stop this nonsense!”

The vibration in the soil ceased slowly, with one still insisting on remaining.

“Halsin…!”, she threatened.

You felt the shaking of the earth stop, finally but reluctantly. With vicious pants from both of the arguing parties, you heard the woman speak once again:

“Halsin, go check on your patient. And you, Dafydd, go do something you deem important. We do not have time for pointless squabbles like this.”

A pause and finally a few grunts of agreement. You heard footsteps leaving and two sets walking towards your tent.

Why were you panicking? It was ok for you to be awake, right?

You hastily pulled the covers over half your face as you lay down a bit too bluntly.  You didn’t want them to know you were listening.

The tent flap slid open and you saw Halsin hold it open for the other person.

An older elf woman walked in, her long grey hair tied neatly in elaborate braids. She had exceedingly kind, hazel eyes that met yours with a soft twinkle. Her dark skin glistened with tiny drops of sweat. Her attire was rather casual, it looked like she spent a lot of time outside, judging by her sun kissed, wrinkly nose.

She smiled and you returned it carefully.

“Ah, so this is the savior”, her voice matched the one who had scolded the two men before. Halsin didn’t say anything, but grumpily stomped to the other side of the tent to grab a piece of wood. He started aggressively carving at it with a knife that looked too small for his hands.

The elf lady rolled her eyes and kneeled beside your head: “How are we feeling this morning, duckling?”

You cleared your throat, blinking a bit confused at the last word, but sat up slowly, while she helped you up: “Uh… I think… ok?”

Your words sounded unrecognizably hoarse.

The older elf conjured a gentle, yellow light from her palm and lay her hand on your shoulder. Closing her eyes, you felt a wonderous thrum from her touch.

“Mmh, yes. Healing slow but nicely”, she opened her eyes, winked at you and turned her head towards the tall druid, who was still chopping viciously at the tiny block of wood.  

“Good thinking with the ginkgo leaves, son. Their organs are healing quickly”, she kept her gaze fixed on him. He met her eyes briefly, let out a rough “Hm” as a response and continued shaving.

You looked at Halsin, too. His furious aura engulfed the entire tent. His brows were frowning so intensely that you could barely see his calming eyes. This was his mother? They looked nothing alike. And she was so much older.

The woman turned back to you, deciding to ignore the brewing giant in the corner.

“I’m Anwen, elder druid of the High Forest. I assume you know who the sulking moose over there is”, she gestured vaguely at Halsin, who grunted and continued whittling more aggressively.

You nodded, trying to stop yourself from laughing. The hissy fit was a bit comical coming from such a large man, but you understood where the anger came from.

“Y/N…” you lay a hand on your chest, indicating yourself. “Thank you for … uh…” you were looking down at the clean garb you were wearing.

Halsin blushed excessively in the corner of your eye, turning to face the tent wall.

Anwen grinned: “Well, well, now I know where my sleepwear went.”

You stared at her anxiously.

“Oh, don’t worry. You need it more than I do right now”, she placated.

Your eyes wandered to the back of Halsin’s head. You could see the blushing had increased. So, he had changed you…

“Duckling, I am beyond thankful that you came to my children’s aid. They all won’t stop talking about you and your rescue. I’m sure they’d be happy to meet you properly, once your strength allows”, Anwen tugged at your cover, pulling it over you more and forcing you to lie back down.

You obliged.

“Halsin tells me you overheard something from the goblins. Something about the children…”, she patted the cover close to your chest.

You explained what you had heard before you intervened. Elder Anwen listened intently, nodding along as you described the attire the goblins were wearing to the best of your ability. She thanked you kindly and exited the tent, addressing Halsin to join her in prayer at sundown. This left you alone with the handsome druid.

He finally placed his craft on the sideboard next to his carving knife, leaning against the board and letting out a deep, irked sigh. You didn’t know what to say, so you just watched him.

The silence lingered between you for a bit, when he finally turned to you and tried to smile.

“Sorry. I’m glad you’re doing better.” He approached the side of your matt and squatted down. “I should change your bandage…”

You nodded after realizing you had been staring at him for too long and pushed the cover off your upper half. Hesitating slightly, you lifted the tunic to reveal your nursed belly.

Halsin sat down on the sand and started taking the binding off carefully. You let out small hisses, as he pulled the adhesive off your wound. You saw leaves sticking to the side of the band that lay directly on the most sensitive area. These were presumably the ginkgo leaves Anwen had mentioned before. He grabbed the teapot from the fireplace and filled a goblet with steaming, green water.

You beheld his work in silence, as he dabbed a soaking cloth on your abdomen. He conjured more healing magic with his hands, which hovered over your belly for some time. The comforting humming of his incantation joined the low purring of the fire. The dull light of the tent danced across his face, which seemed absent and deep in thought.

“Thank you for…all of this...”, you cut through the quiet, realizing you hadn’t really thanked him for saving your life.

Your words seemed to snap him out of something. He blinked hard and turned his head towards you, as his hand floated above your stomach.

His smile grew warmer and your heart skipped a secret beat: “You needn’t thank me. It’s the least I can do.”

He returned his attention back to nursing you. Watching him work, you felt a gnawing in your throat that you couldn’t ignore any longer.

“… are you alright?”, You had been wanting to ask about the conversation you overheard since he walked in.

Halsin hesitated for a moment, his eyes flitting from your face to his hands.

“It’s nothing you should concern yourself with. You’ve done more than enough,” he murmured.

You thought about the words the other man, Dafydd, had chastised the young druid with. Halsin seemed to be struggling with immense guilt and a need to correct it.

You accepted his unsatisfying answer and let your eyes wander around the tent, as you heard Halsin sigh once more. You didn’t know each other. Why would he share his woes with you? You were just a useless bard that happened to stumble into an unfortunate situation.

You spent the next few days in his tent, having Anwen and Halsin visit you every hour to bring food, drink and give you healing sessions. You were feeling better every day, the throbbing pain slowly dissipating from your lower body. It got to the point, where you even forgot you were hurt to begin with.

Anwen told you stories about Halsin, whom she adopted as a young boy. Most of the stories were quite embarrassing and you enjoyed learning about his mischievous nature. He carried himself with immense grace whenever he was around you, but you secretly knew he had a massive fear of moths and used to hide in baskets or pots to avoid druid training. He grew more relaxed each passing day, as well, showing off his collection of wood carvings you’d been eyeing in the corner of the tent, realizing you were someone easy to speak to.

You left the tent from time to time, as well, and were allowed to join in meals and share stories with the rest of the villagers. The village had been damaged by the attack, but not by too much. The druids seemed organized enough to fix things swiftly. Everyone treated you kindly.

The children were enthralled with you. They had carved a new, albeit extremely creaky and sad-looking, lute for you as a thank you, which you accepted with warmth surrounding your heart. Their eyes stared up at you, adoringly, as you haphazardly played on your gifted “instrument”, the notes plunking out strained and harsh. Gods, it was ugly. But you loved it anyway.

You learned Dafydd was the archdruid of the High Forest and Anwen’s brother. He was a lanky, older, but tall elf with the same eyes as Anwen, yet lacking her kindness. He had an intense authoritative energy and barely smiled, only nodding to greet you when you joined the circle. The only person he truly listened to was his sister and he was extremely harsh with the rest of the novice druids whom he trained, especially Halsin.

The children begged you to join them in their barn one night, where you learned Halsin slept while you occupied his tent. They dragged you to the heaps of straw, showing off their own attempts at carvings. You spied a larger wooden object hiding under a thin, massive blanket. That was most likely where Halsin slept, judging by the size of the bedroll. You decided not to pry.

The kids requested you sing them to sleep, as the orange sunrays drifted through the small cracks in the wooden walls. They were all snuggled together, glittering eyes blinking expectedly up at you, as you sat on a large bundle of hay.

How could you say no to them?

You started humming softly, watching them curl up closer to each other and stare at you with their little faces. You thought back to a gentle lullaby you had thought of, while you were wandering through a small village, which had a tradition of burning old keepsakes, in order to release them to the spirit world. You had been writing it below the Oaktree you always visited in the High Forest.

You didn’t need an instrument to keep the rhythm going, as the music flowed from your lips naturally:

I smelt smoke

On the wheezing of the wind when I awoke

A pyre of memory

Some fly-tipped treasury

Out there burning slow

Dark soaked fields

And the snuffling wet noses at my heels

Suddenly hackles raise

At the crackling of the blaze

Out there burning slow

And sometimes I catch him

With his axe in

The shadow

So secretive and private,

But I’m breathing in his life when

He’s out there burning slow

You repeated the lines a few times, until you noticed every chest of the children moving slowly up and down in a sweet cadence.

You heard someone behind you and turned to see Halsin leaning against the open door, the dark night behind him, his arms crossed:

“Beautiful tune. Been long since I’ve heard it.”

You blinked at him in stunned silence. He had heard it before?

He chuckled, noticing your confusion: “I told you Thaniel is fond of you. He likes to sing me your songs. The children do, too. Now I’ve had the pleasure of hearing it from the origin’s mouth, as intended.”

“Oh, wow… I didn’t know a forest spirit liked music…”, you pondered that thought, wondering what this Thaniel being was. If he had been listening all this time, where had he been hiding himself while you played on the riverbank?

Halsin joined you, sitting down on the hay ball. The might of his body made your side move up a bit, leaving your legs to dangle. He watched the children sleep, with a permanent smile on his face.

“Aren’t they precious?”, he cooed and you nodded with a silent chuckle, as one ork boy snored gently.

“Oh wait, one moment!”, Halsin stood up and tiptoed to the large bedroll, pulling the woodwork from under the draping.

He hid it behind his back, which worked amazingly, since he was so wide.

“Close your eyes,” he grinned.

You complied and waited with a secret shortness of breath. He had made something for you?

“Open,” he purred, sweetly.

As you opened your eyes, you were met with a beautifully crafted lute. The wood had been engraved with lovely vines and flowers.

Your mouth dropped open.

Halsin hurriedly sat beside you again, the hay ball raising you once again, as he handed you the intricately constructed instrument. The feel of the soft oak gave you goosebumps and the redness in your face was impossible to hide.

The strings were firm and carefully strung into place. You plucked a few softly. It sounded heavenly.

“This- what- how- why-…” you couldn’t string a coherent sentence together. Halsin chuckled.

“The children told me you sacrificed your lute to save them. The one they made for you is ...cute... , but I thought you needed a proper one.”

You gaped at him. You had never gotten such a thoughtful gift in your entire life.

You felt tears bite your eyes, but you blinked them away.

“Gods…thank you Halsin…I- I don’t know what to say. It’s marvelous!”

His smiled widened: “It’s the least I can do, I’m in your debt, remember?”

You smiled back, gazing at the artwork.

Moments passed as you both watched the sleeping children quietly. Your heart was still racing from the tremendous gesture.

You felt Halsin’s shoulders tense up as his face collapsed into the thoughtful one you first encountered in the tent.

You gulped inaudibly and decided maybe now he would be more open to talking to you. You had this urge to soothe him, especially after receiving the lute.

“Are you still bothered by what the Archdruid said?”, the words just spilled out of you. You realized it would indicate you had overheard the conversation and your throat closed up. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry…” your hands fidgeted around the lute as you nervously babbled on.

Halsin let out a brief gust of air between his nostrils. He nodded a bit, unbothered by your question.

“It’s just…”, he stopped himself. You saw his hands tremor slightly, “Dafydd is such a…such a…”

Your brows furrowed in concern.

Halsin took another deep breath, calming his slight shaking: “I didn’t abandon Zacharia. He told me to go and help. He told me he would take the children to the thicket and hide. I didn’t know those damned goblins were tailing us.” The words tumbled out of him with quiet agony staining his intonation.

You sat up a bit straighter, put the lute down on the ground and turned more towards him, unsure what else to contribute, but offering your ear.

Halsin balled a fist, as he watched one of the girls turn over in her sleep.

“Dafydd won’t go after that filth that tried to steal them. Says it’s pointless and risky and hotheaded. But what if they come back? Perhaps with an army of drow instead of stupid goblins. What if they get their hands on them and…” You heard his knuckles crack as he flexed his fist more.

He realized what he was doing with his hand and released his grip.

“I have to do something. I can’t just sit by and hope for the best.” His eyes scanned the barn floor, then finally met your worried gaze. The jade hue sparkled in the moonlight. You buried the thought about how handsome he was, while you focused on his problem.

You let his words swirl in your mind for a while. You never had any contact with Lolth sworn drows, just the kind ones that had escaped that fanaticism to Baldur’s Gate. At least you assumed they were Lolth sworn, you didn’t know of any other drow group that would do such a thing.

You agreed with Halsin. It was a terrible threat and a danger for the children to have the sheer possibility of another kidnapping exist.

“The thought haunts me, too. So, I understand how you feel”, your voice was almost a whisper, in fear of waking the sleeping souls, “It’s a huge risk to let them conspire in the dark.”

Halsin nodded. He leaned forward, holding his weight on his legs with his elbows. 

He seemed to be at war with himself, unsure if he should tell you something. His eyes scanned you and you felt your body shake. A thought of what his lips tasted like invaded you, which you blinked away ashamedly.

Focus.

You attempted to hide your racy thoughts with a stupidly fake cough.

Halsin sat up again and bit his lip. Then he grabbed your hands and held them within his own. A brush of heat sizzled up your spine. He was so close to you.

“I’m going after them. I need a few nights to prepare, but then I’ll track those miscreants down. Frelma and Danan have agreed to come with me. Three is better than one. I have no idea if we’ll survive such an assault, but it’s better than sitting here and waiting for the next attack. We’re still concocting a plan. The drow are too dangerous to let live.”

His eyes bore into yours, a shred of relief after finally telling someone clouding them: “Please. Do not tell anyone, especially not Dafydd.”

You stared into his forest eyes, that quivered with anticipation at your response. You tried your absolute most not to lean in and clasp your lips in his, although every sinew within you yearned for it. Why was he so Gods-damn fine?

FOCUS.

“I’m coming with you.”

The phrase escaped from you. You couldn’t believe what you just said. Neither could the druid, who still held your hands gently.

He tilted his head, pacifyingly, his eyes softening sweetly: “You are braver than anyone I’ve ever met. But that would be quite foolish. No, you will stay here until you’re fully heale-.”

“I insist.”

OH MY GODS, SHUT UP.

Your insides were screaming at you, what the fuck were you thinking? What would you contribute? Battle music? You would only be in the way.

Halsin let out a soft laugh, lowering your hands but still holding onto them. He shook his head and gazed at you:

“You’re a fascinating person, truly. But I cannot allow you to-“

You released your hand from his grasp and held up a finger. An idea sparked within you. An extremely stupid idea.

“I know I can’t fight. But I can run.”

Halsin’s brow furrowed, waiting for an explanation.

[bkgml]

ex bf againnnnnn!

(cw! mentions of vomit but nothing descriptive)

i wish i wasn’t shadow banned so more ppl could see this cause i worked hard!! :(

————————————————————————

10:47pm

yn: hey

katsuki nearly dropped his phone.

“bakugou man, why’re you so quiet?”

bakugou sighed deeply, rolled his shoulders and opened his mouth to speak.

“uh it’s nothing. none of your business.” he shrugs him off.

but sero already made his way behind him.

“bro, yn texted you?!” he calls out.

dropped jaws from around him make the boy seethe.

“i told you to mind your business!” he yells.

ignoring his friends screams, kirishima sees through bakugous facade.

“you gonna text her?” he asks calmly.

bakugou meets his eyes and sighs again.

“probably.” he groans.

“dude, what the hell! you were torn up for months after that breakup!” kaminari pipes in.

but he’s already typing.

10:59pm

suki: why are you texting me?

yn: sorry if i woke you up

suki: you didn’t

yn: can i call you?

he pauses again and the boys have now made their way to surround his phone.

“you guys are like fuckin hyenas.” he frowns.

“are you gonna call her?” kirishima says.

bakugou takes a moment to think before groaning and getting up.

“it could be an emergency.” he mumbles out before opening the door to kirishimas room to stand out in the hall.

*incoming call from ‘suki’*

your breath catches in your throat before you make your shaking thumb press the answer button.

“hi.” you speak shakily.

you pray he chooses to ignore the upset tone in your voice and he does.

“hey.” he replies calmly.

“um. were you asleep?” you ask.

“no, i was with the idiots.”

he hears you laugh lightly through the speakers.

“why’d you text me?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“well, i uh.” you laugh again, a habit you have when you’re nervous.

“i don’t feel well.” you say.

he pauses and starts tapping his foot.

“how’s that my problem? i’m not your boyfriend anymore.” he says, sounding meaner than he intended.

you sigh shakily and he can practically hear the tears forming in your waterline.

“yeah, um… i know that. it’s just i really can’t sleep.” you mumble, afraid of his reply.

“what do you want me to do about it?”

the pause is long before you speak again.

“god this is so embarrassing.” you whine, letting an uncomfortable laugh slip through your lips.

“just say it, alright?… it’s fine.” he says quietly.

“okay um… can i sleep in your bed with you? we don’t even need to make contact or anything.. i just feel like shit and it’s so hard to sleep without you.” you whisper.

he takes a second to think over his answer. if he’s being honest he was hoping you’d say something like that. he hasn’t had a good nights sleep since you broke up either. but on the other hand you’re broken up. he shouldn’t be doing this.

“are you still there, kugo?” you interrupt his train of thought.

he breathes deeply though his nose and blinks away some tears that are trying to form at the use of the nickname.

“uh yeah. just thinkin.” he replies, shakily.

“you really don’t need to let me. i only asked cause i’m really desperate and we didn’t end on terrible terms, you know?” you say quietly.

he rakes a hand through his hair and sighs.

“how bad is it?” he says.

“huh?”

“is it just a cold, or what?” he confirms.

“oh um, i have a high fever and i keep throwing up. sorry if that’s gross i just know you don’t get sick because of your quirk. i can’t ask any of my friends they’ll get sick.” you say.

he groans deeply while pinching the bridge of his nose. you guys are broken up, why does he still care?

“meet me outside my dorm in 5 minutes, and im not doing this shit again.” he mumbles out.

he hears you whine and sniff, feeling a tug on his heartstrings.

“thanks, kugo.” you say as your voice wobbles.

“don’t keep me waiting.” he replies.

the two of you hang up and he groans at the thought of having to tell the idiots.

he opens the door and steps inside.

“hey, so what’d she say?” kirishima asks.

“nothin. i’m going to bed.” bakugou grumbles.

“you sure?”

“yeah, fuck off.” he says as he steps back outside.

he heads back to his room and steps inside.

he made sure to get here before you so he could clean up some things he’s not so proud of.

the framed picture of you he’s never taken off his desk, the small bottle of perfume that rests on his nightstand and your shirt that sits on your side of the bed.

he can’t sleep on your side anymore.

he stashed them all in one of his desk drawers before hearing a knock on his door.

“here goes.” he whispers lowly to himself.

he opens the door to see you standing there.

face red and covered in tear stains, bed head, deep eye bags, lips plush and bitten and his hoodie draped on your form. you’re biting your nails, another habit you have when you’re nervous.

“hi.” you say with watery eyes, bringing the sleeve of his hoodie up to wipe the tears that are threading to fall onto your cheeks.

“hey.” he says, pushing the door open wider.

you step inside hesitantly, before getting a waft of nausea and sprinting into katsuki’s bathroom.

“yn?!” he calls, running after you.

he finds you hunched over the toilet.

“hey…” he says, walking over to you and kneeling beside you.

he’s hesitant but he does start to rub your back and clasp your hair in his hand to keep it out of the way.

“it’s alright, let it out. katsukis here.” he says, soothingly.

“hurts…” you whine.

he chuckles quietly.

“i know, swe-“ he cuts himself off, praying you didn’t hear the beginning of the pet name.

you sit up once your done and he sees fresh tears sliding down your face.

“that was a nice icebreaker, huh?” he smiles while he wipes your tears.

“oh yeah, me throwing up. great icebreaker.” you smile back as you lean into his touch.

“better now?” he asks.

you nod slowly before your face crumples up with disgust.

“i still have your extra toothbrush, come on.” he says as he helps you up.

you steady yourself once you’re on your feet.

“thanks, kugo.” you smile brightly.

he has to turn away from your bright smile and your cheery nickname.

“let’s just get you in bed.” he replies.

he waits for you to brush your teeth. while you were together he’d be doing it for you, you sitting on the counter with your legs around his waist and your hand holding his.

he blinks away tears that haven’t even formed yet at the thought of how things used to be.

“bed?” you ask sweetly once you finish brushing your teeth.

he nods and resists the urge to bring you by the hand into his bed so he can hold you until you feel better.

he walks into his room and heads into his bed.

he pats your side of the bed and you bite your nails again before slipping under the sheets with your ex boyfriend.

you turn towards each other but make no move to touch each other.

“you tired?” he asks when he sees your drooping eyes.

you nod and wipe your tears with his sleeve once again.

“why’re you crying?” he asks.

you sniff and snuggle deeper into the sheets of his bed.

“im sorry i made you take care of me.” you cry.

he lets a sigh through his nose.

“i know.” he says and he doesn’t resist the urge to cup your cheek to comfort you.

you whine and lean into his hand again.

“get some rest, yeah? katsuki’s here.”

he’s here. you’re okay.

you repeat those phrases in your mind as you close your eyes and drift off into a calm sleep.

once he knows your asleep he presses a lingering kiss to your head as he finally lets a single tear fall from his eye.

11:37pm

kirishima: hey bro, why’d you leave so early?

bakugou: none of your business.

kirishima: don’t tell me she’s there

bakugou: shut up.

kirishima: bro

bakugou: even if she is here it’s none of your fucking business

kirishima: im just saying you wore torn up for months about her

bakugou: it’s not like we fucked. she’s sick.

kirishima: are you sure?

bakugou: yes now fuck off.

he puts his phone back on the nightstand and ignores the buzzing of his friends protests.

staring up at the ceiling he sighs before he feels rustling from beside him.

you make your way from beside him to resting on top of him with your limbs tangled with his.

he inhales a shaky breath as he wraps an arm around you and kisses your cheeks.

he feels you hug him tighter and he stiffens.

“miss you…” he hears you mumble.

he pauses.

“miss you too, baby.” he calls out in the silence of his bedroom.

[whiskeyghoul]

Coloring pages || [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A/N: This has been stuck in my mind for weeks now and I needed to put it down. This is the first fic I had proof read by someone! Enjoy and please like and reblog when you do. 

Tags: Fluff, tooth rotting fluff, just fluff, coloring pages, spencer reid x gn!reader I think.

You stood outside of the Quantico building, leaning against the side of your car. The air had the early autumn chill, it wasn't cold but your oversized sweater sure made it a lot more bearable to be outside of the car for an extended period. You were waiting for your date to be finished with his work. Boyfriend. You corrected yourself internally. Boyfriend of 6 weeks, 3 days and 5 hours to be exact. Which, with Spencer as your boyfriend you had to be.

He is handsome, kind and so incredibly intelligent it is sometimes just a tad frustrating. His rambles were interesting and you could probably listen to him for hours on end. You also wanted to spend time together just enjoying each other's company. Being together, that was your type of love. The affirming touches that the other was there. The comfortable silence you enjoyed so much where you could hear soft intakes of breaths. Glances at one another to confirm that the other was still there. You loved when Spencer had invited you over to his apartment once, he still had some work to finish so you'd picked up a book from the many shelves and made yourself comfortable on his worn couch. You had looked up from the book and over to him, seen him deep in thought as he looked at the lines of writing, jotting down notes next to it. His brow slightly furrowed, lips pursed ever so slightly as he thought particularly hard. Completely unaware of your admirations of him from the couch. That's what you liked.

People began filing out of the building as the sun set, you watched and watched to catch the first sign of Spencer. When you did see that messy brown hair bounce slightly as he walked down the steps a smile spread across his face. You mirrored his expression, every time you saw him it brought a smile to your lips. A gust of wind picked up, ruffling his hair even further as he bound over his long strides causing him to stand before you in, what felt like, mere seconds. "Hey." He said softly. His hand reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear that had been swept up by the wind. His fingertip grazed the side of your temple. "Hi." You returned just as softly. "How was work?" You asked as you looked into those big, brown eyes. They were filled with warmth as he looked into yours. "It was good, no new cases which I was hoping for since I wanted to see you." Spencer spoke his emotions as he pulled his hand away. "Good, because I have something planned." You said with a smile, turning on your heels and walking back to the driver's side.

"You have something planned?" Spencer asked as he quickly dove into the passenger seat. Tucking his bag between his feet. "I do." You say as you put the seatbelt on, feeling his eyes on your profile. "Can I know?" He asked, impatiently tapping his fingers against his thighs, an air of excitement surrounding him. "Not yet. It's a surprise." Your voice sounds melodic, sing-song-y even, on the last sentence as you turned the key and started up the car. "Tell me more about your day." You say as the music over the speakers softly filled the car and the heater worked to warm your cold tinged hands.

Spencer had talked about his day, you were intermittently interrupting him with questions before he asked about your day. You were still going on about a coworker who had annoyed you when you parked the car in front of your destination. The bookstore and café combo where you had your first date. You got out and quickly snatched the tote bag you had haphazardly laid on the backseat before turning back to Spencer. "The bookstore? Why are we here?" He looked at you quizzically. You rolled your eyes playfully and put the tote bag over your shoulder. "Because we're going for coffee." You answered and held out your hand which he took. You saw his eyes dart towards the tote bag, that soft crease between his eyebrows forming as he pictured all the possibilities of what its contents could be. “Coffee at 5 P.M.? You know that feeling unaffected by caffeine could be a sign of a genetic difference or you have built an increasingly large tolerance. This could be a problem once you start ingesting dangerous amounts of caffeine unbeknownst to you.” Spencer rambled as you entered the coffee shop. You rolled your eyes playfully, “I’ll get a tea then.” you say as you get hit by the smell of fresh brewed coffee, pastries and books. There was music softly playing in the background. The shop was warm.

Pulling Spencer along to the table where your first date had been, you sat down, shedding your fall jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair. The tote bag was placed on the table, only a slight peak of its contents spilling out. Spencer’s eyes darted to it, wanting to know what you had planned and why you were being so secretive. Quickly, your hand found its way to cover the contents, pressing the tote bag shut. “After we get our drinks.” You teased, there was a sparkle in your eyes, seeing him this interested in what you were planning made it all the more fun to keep him in the dark.

“Really? Can’t you just tell me?” Spencer questioned, giving you the most pleading eyes he could muster in that moment, you were surprised he didn’t pout at you. Just then the waitress came over, taking your coffee and tea orders before walking back behind the bar. When you had looked at her Spencer seemed to have taken his chance and snuck a peek inside of the bag, before you knew it he was pulling out a set of colored pencils. “Spencer!” You admonished playfully, snatching the colored pencils out of his hand and sticking them back in the bag. “What? I was just curious.” He played innocent, giving that sweet smile he knew made you weak. “You brought colored pencils?” He tilted his head slightly, his soft curls falling away from his face. You reached out across the table, tucking a stray curl behind his ear like he had done with you before, “I did.” Your answer came with a soft sigh before folding the tote bag slightly open and pulling out the matching set of colored pencils and a book of coloring pages. “I guess the cat is out of the bag.”

“Why did you bring coloring pages?” Spencer looked confused at the book, flipping through the blank pages filled with outlines of forest scenes and insects. An amused smile on his lips, “Aren’t we too old for that?” He asked, his tone was a slight teasing one. You know he didn’t mean it to be hurtful at that moment, but still he didn’t seem as excited about it as you were. You bit your lip, holding back the twinge of disappointment that shot through your heart.

“I thought it would be fun to do something together. It’s not a children's coloring book, but you know… I wanted to work on a page together, so we have something we both did.” Your voice had an edge to it, the disappointment you tried to hide still managed to bubble its way to the top. It felt horrible, that such a little thing could make this big of an impact. Your hands fidgeted with the end of your sweater, picking at the sleeve with a hint of defeat. Eyes cast down on the table. “Woah, hey, wait no I- I didn’t mean anything bad- I just-” Spencer stumbled over his words, quickly reaching his hand across the table to hold yours. Moving his thumb soothingly across the back of your hand. “If you want to, we will. It looks fun. Really.” He corrected himself, his eyes finding yours. You could see the hint of regret at his earlier words, his sincerity in his current ones. The disappointment still lingered, but the warmth from his hand was quickly spreading through your body to wash away any doubt. “Really?” You asked again, wanting the extra confirmation. You attempted a smile, it was half hearted still but at least it was somewhat reassuring to yourself. “Really, I just get to pick what we’re working on.” Spencer smiled back, giving your hand a soft squeeze before letting go to pick up the book again.

You watched Spencer flip through, taking a quick look at the different pages until he found one to his liking. Placing the book open on the table, a flowery field with butterflies and bumble bees. “This one.” he said, looking to you for confirmation like he could make the wrong choice. “That’s perfect.” Your voice was soft, still trying to get over the disappointment from before. It was nearly gone, leaving you with mostly warmth in your heart. You grabbed the two sets of colored pencils, opening them, and setting them out on the table. Just then your drinks were brought out, a chai latte for you after Spencer’s comment about caffeine, he still had a cappuccino which made you smile a bit. You handed a set of pencils to Spencer before picking up your chai and taking a tentative sip. It was hot but delicious. 

“Alright, so how do we start?” Spencer asked, looking at the page then back at you. “I want to color it together. You can start over on your side, I start on mine, meet in the middle?” You said, placing your cup back down. “Won’t it be mismatched? should we at least have the same color green for the stems?” He suggested, suddenly seeming a bit more into it than he had been before. “Okay, that sounds like a good idea. The same blue for the sky too?” You added, opening your own set of pencils. You picked out a blue, matching it with one from Spencer's set. He did the same with the green, handing you the matching pencil with a smile. “Let’s get coloring then.” He said before turning his attention to the paper. You followed suit, touching the colored pencil to the paper and began to fill in the white space.

You kept picking up pencils, filling in the flowers with different colors, sometimes your hand would meet with Spencer’s while drawing and he’d look up with a smile. Soft bumps and touches that affirmed you were both there. Light chuckles and laughter with your coloring interrupted by each other. Your heart fluttered at how he had thrown all his earlier judgment aside to make you happy. Looking up he was focused, smiling at the paper as he decided what colors would fit best. Sometimes asking for your opinion. Intermittently his drawing was interrupted by sips of coffee. Wiping the residue off of his lips with his sleeve before going back to the page.  The way he was focused was cute, hairs falling in front of his eyes, a grin on his face as he gave in to the childlike whimsy of doing a coloring page. It was refreshing to see him with his shoulders relaxed, focusing on anything but words. Letting the surrounding sounds of the shop take over. Slowly you felt yourself be more and more focused on Spencer rather than the drawing. Once he noticed, he looked up, the smile still plastered on his face, “What?” he laughed out the question. One of the more beautiful sounds you’ve heard, though you wouldn’t tell him that. You shook your head no, laughing softly “Nothing.” You answered with a genuine smile. “There’s something.” Spencer pushed, still smiling, holding back the laughter that bubbled up inside of him. “You looked very focused, that’s all.” You answered, shrugging nonchalantly before you finished up your drink that had gone lukewarm from the amount of time you had been sitting there. “Well, so did you. Just not on the coloring anymore.” Spencer teased, making a blush creep to your cheeks. Biting your tongue to hold back from throwing out a retort that would have been completely unnecessary. 

Your eyes cast down to the coloring page, it was almost completely filled with your combined efforts of removing every spot of white. It was beautiful to you, a bit messy but that made it perfect. Spencer looked down too, regarding the page with a certain air of pride. “I think we should frame it.” he spoke up. Your eyes darted back to his face, to see if he was joking or if it was serious. His expression was relaxed, no sign of any funny business. “Why?” You asked, a hint of confusion in your voice this time around. “It’s the first thing we made together.” His words made your heart skip a beat, the way he was so sincere had such an effect on you. “We’ll have to make another for my place then.” you answered. “Or you’ll just have to come over by my place more often to see it.” Spencer smiled, his words a thinly veiled excuse to see you in his home, to have you over, spend time together. 

You smiled, quickly leaning over the table to steal a kiss after he finished his sentence. “I’d like that a lot.”

[sl-vega]

♫ 8.5; ↠ ENEMIES TO ???

↳ my heart beats for you-a scaramouche smau

Off key chords. Employees running around the live house holding speakers, cables, mic stands and several other appliances that Scaramouche managed recognize from his years of playing with 5WIRL.

It was nice, the atmosphere that the place radiated all the time. It was familiar, cozy, safe. He had grown quite fond of it. It felt like home to him.

Well, more like how he assumed other's would describe their home, his house life was practically worlds apart from the bliss that Favonius gave to him.

So, perhaps home wasn't the right word to describe the place. Haven, yes, a safe haven for him, that was a much better term. A get away, a paradise that he could always go to, but never quite own. Company that he could always count on but never keep.

Such thoughts always plagued his conscious when left to his own devices without interruption. Happiness was present in the moment yet his own thinking seemed to pollute the so-called joy he was supposed to be lavishing in, the joy he should have been savouring.

Because one day, it would all be gone.

One day, they'd all leave, out of sight, yet fresh in his mind.

One day, he'd be alone again.

Suddenly Scaramouche felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to the current scene. Friendly deep gold eyes met his dead indigo one's.

Aether.

Right, he was in the live house, surrounded by his bandmates. Not alone. He had company. He had other's to spend time with. He had friends.

"Hey."

He simply said, nonchalantly, though he spared Aether from the usual glare that sat on his grumpy, albeit gentle, face.

"You good? You were staring off into space again."

Aether gave him a quizzical and concerned look, they have had this conversation countless times. Always the same scenario, always the same response between the two.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Lies.

His friend didn't look convinced. He never did. Yet he never pushed it further than that, Scaramouche liked that about Aether, he knew that insisting that he wasn't okay would only make him feel worse. Aether's expression quickly shifted into a gentle smile, clearly fake, clearly strained.

"I'm gonna go on a snack run, wanna come with?"

The blonde asked, gesturing to the front door of the live house.

"Aren't you supposed to be doing a soundcheck with Sucrose and Mika?"

Scaramouche deadpanned in response. He loved spending one on one time with Aether, he really did, but he didn't want to screw up tonight just because of that.

"Nah don't worry about it, Xiao told me he'd do the rest of the checks with them."

Aether explained, of course Xiao agreed to do it for him, the guy basically followed him around like a dog, not to mention acted like one. Scaramouche supposed he admired the dedication. He'd make a good boyfriend for someone if he wasn't so attached to Aether.

"Fine."

He muttered in response. On the inside, he was practically jumping for joy though.

Aether led the two of them out the door, and they headed to the local convenience store using the all too familiar route that Scaramouche had memorized from his time spent with the band.

They finally arrived at the store itself, Aether opening the door for Scaramouche, allowing him to head inside first.

"Ever the gentleman I see."

"You know it."

After him, Aether shortly followed, allowing the door to gently swing shut as the soft cling of the door chimes sounded and rang throughout the shop.

A brief intermission of silence shortly followed after the two began to examine the shelves for snacks. Aether gently pushing boxes and bags aside while Scaramouche had settled for rummaging through the aisles. He always made sure to put everything back in it's place though. He wasn't that much of a jackass.

Him and Aether eventually reconvened at the candy aisle together. Scaramouche holding two bags of chips for himself, and Aether holding a small basket full of snacks.

The began browsing the sweets section together, and thankfully, Aether broke the silence.

"So, other than her, did ya' invite anyone else?"

Aether asked him, back turned as he checked the price tag for some chocolate bar.

Scaramouche didn't know how to feel about the fact the he immediately knew that Aether was talking about you, even if he didn't mention your name.

He shrugged, picking up some dark chocolate in the process. "Yeah I only directly invited her, but she probably asked your sister to come or somethin'..."

He placed the bitter candy back on the shelf. He didn't care much for candy, even if some fit his flavour profile.

"Why did you invite her anyways?" Aether inquired.

"Cuz you told me I should."

He replied, without missing a beat. He seemed to repeat the same mantra over and over. Yeah, he's only doing this for Aether, he's doing this for Aether, for the sake of his friend.

That's all.

"I told you to try being nicer to her, not invite her to one of our gigs."

His friend turned around to face him, smirking.

"I've never seen you put this much effort into someone you claim to 'hate' Scara~ Maybe you care more than your willing to let on."

He teased, playfully poking his shoulder. Scaramouche simply let out a dry chuckle and swatted Aether's hand away.

"Yeah right..."

Sure, maybe he didn't hate you, maybe he never even disliked you in the first place, but it wasn't like he liked you, or was fond of you by any means. And he certainly wasn't in love-

He wasn't.

He couldn't.

At most he admired you as a musician. He'd never say it out loud, but he certainly admired you.

Admiration and actually having feelings for someone are two completely different things that way too many people confuse for one another.

"Well I'm gonna go pay for everything now, you can wait for me outside, I'll be there in a sec."

"Hm? Oh, yeah thanks..."

Scaramouche handed Aether his snacks and some cash that would cover the stuff he wanted before promptly turning his heel and exiting the store.

Why was he even thinking about this right now? Why was he even thinking about you right now.

Sure, he'd been following your musical career for longer than he'd like to admit, and part of him envied the passion you had for the art. But that didn't mean he had to like you in that sense.

Liking you in that sense would make things weird. You made it abundantly clear that you disliked him. You were stubborn, and brash, and incredibly irritating.

Liking you in that sense meant that things between him and Aether would be weird. And that was the last thing that he wanted.

Hurting Aether was the last thing he wanted.

"Scara! I finished paying for everything-"

His friend placed his hand on his shoulder once more, causing him to flinch, clearly catching Aether off guard.

"You good?-"

"I'm fine. Really. You just started me a bit."

Scaramouche insisted, lifting the blonde's hand off him, and taking the plastic bag full of their purchases from Aether's arms and into his own.

"We're heading back now yeah?"

He tilted his head in the direction of Favonius, taking a few steps forward as he waited for Aether to scurry along.

"Yeah! Thanks for coming with me Scara."

"No problem."

He wasn't gonna hurt Aether, no matter how he felt about you.

But surely, getting just a little bit closer to you wouldn't hurt anyone,

...Right?

additional notes:

denial is a river in egypt for $400

also if you thought you saw a different chapter instead

you are sorely mistaken

idk what you're talking about :D

ALSO HEAR ME OUT

y/n is Alexander, and scara and aether are eliza/Angelica (those roles are interchangeable between the two of them tbh)

anyways ty again for reading!

love y'all <3

masterlist

<prev ll next>

MY HEART BEATS FOR YOU

Pairing: [BASSIST!] Scaramouche x [GUITARIST!] Reader

Genre: rivals/enemies to lovers, rivals to friends to lovers, fluff, crack (?), comedy, angst (?), slowburn, high school au, band au, modern au, social media au, smau

Synopsis: You're the lead guitarist for your band, C✧LESTIA and Scaramouche is the bassist of 5WIRL. The two of your bands have a friendly rivalry, but you and Scaramouche don't. On top of being academic rivals, you and him have never been on good terms. Always one-upping each other in grades and in music. Even your bandmates have grown tired of your constant bickering with each other. But when your usual practice hub gets flooded, you and the rest of C✧LESTIA are forced to find a new place to rehearse. So when 5WIRL offers to share their studio with you who are you to refuse? Of course, this forces you to spend time with your sworn rival whether you like it or not. But maybe the two of you can overcome your differences and actually be friends?

Or maybe even more?

(CLOSED) TAGLIST: @featuredtofu @levianamor @danfelions, @thatoneswordgirl, @lolmeowing, @bananasquash, @xiaosantenna, @twilightclouds, @kaitfae, @mujiwuji, @zestyseggsydaddy69, @peaceindreams, @freyao7, @rinquin, @justpeachyteastea, @seafumes, @b2ne, @skyoverkill1, @scaradooche, @morallyrainyday, @adres-tia, @justadvena6, @agaygothicmushroom, @aiher, @seaofdata, @kyon-cherri, @aether-darling, @ukinya, @sketcheeee, @ibawa, @shutingstar, @eutopiastar, @kunimix, @wonderful-worlds, @ectomotive, @yourfavoritefreakyhan, @b4tm4nn, @animegirl-12s-world, @h3xi2g0n3, @lalaloveallmydays, @st4xs-3, @valentinasgirly, @kazuieee, @hikoiaa, @princess-peachys, @feikyuu, @dainsleif-when-playable, @animeobsessed56, @useless-potahto

[hurtghul]

DISASTROUS DATE !!

⸻ Tim Drake , 1572 words.

The movie plays, the dark light of the screen playing on their faces as attentive eyes take in the scenes. You could hear the speakers increasing the sounds, the murmurs subsided and the cell phone screens went off.

Tim's index finger tapped anxiously on the bucket of popcorn, which they had already been emptying less than halfway through the movie.

Tim had been preparing this abruptly, feeling the necessary opportunity to be able to go out with you, as an apology since he had to miss the multiple outings that you were trying to have with him. His mission as Red Robin had taken up a lot of his free time to be able to have a normal life with you.

After playing for about half an hour, the movie was already getting boring. It was too horrible in every way and the plot was too cheap, Tim could guess the ending without having seen the title.

It was almost a bad joke. He had to plan everything, including tickets, your schedules, his schedules, asking Bruce for some time off, and working overtime on his missions to leave the rest less.

He did everything to be able to spend time with you, and in the end he feels like he ruined it.

Tim feels like he's been ruining every minute that's passed, and he thinks. Why didn't you do more research on the film? Oh, right, because he was spending constant hours without sleep doing his irritable hero job of taking on pesky villains and taking care of the city that was dying to pieces.

You're stared at the screen, attentive to the boring scenes of the movie on the big screen. For him, you are the most beautiful person in life.

“Hm…. Are you enjoying it?” He asked in a whisper. Tim felt guilty ruining the date with this movie. He could feel that he must be ruining the date.

You listen to Tim, and turns your head. Picking up a couple of popcorn and putting them in your mouth.

“I like it, and you?” It could be a white lie, but you didn't want him to worry.

“Hmmm.” He looked back at you as you ate your popcorn. He tapped his index finger on the table again as the movie dragged on. “This is soooo boring.” He muttered and looked over at you again. “You sure you're enjoying this?” He asked, still feeling a little guilt for dragging you into it.

“Well… the truth is that I'm dying of boredom.” You laugh, and continues eating the popcorn to kill time.

“Yeah, me too.” He said with a sigh. Tim knew he had failed at making this date special for you. They were just sitting here like two bored kids on a Sunday afternoon. His eyes looked back at the screen, waiting for something exciting to happen.

“Don't worry, don't worry. The good thing about this is that I'm with you.” You say and lean forward to kiss him on the cheek, which makes Tim tense.

“Do you want to leave? I mean… we could always go somewhere else.” He suggested, feeling bad about ruining your night. The flickering lights of the theater seemed to mock them, their desperate attempt to find something entertaining in this god-awful movie.

Tim hated disappointing people, especially you. You were the only bright light in his life, surrounded by darkness and chaos. And here he was, ruining even this little moment they had together. But then you speak, and your words light up the room for him. It's not how he imagined it would be; you weren't angry or disappointed. You even laughed about it.

“Yeah, let's just go somewhere else.” You answer to him, and he's feeling relieved. At least this date isn't completely ruined yet.

Tim stands up, offering his hand to you. He wants to make sure that everything is still fine between them. Even though he knows it's silly, he feels like he needs to prove himself somehow. To show that despite all his flaws, he can still make things fun and exciting for you.

He leads you out of the dark theater into the bright neon lights of Gotham's streets. The city never sleeps, but tonight it seems even more alive than usual. Couples walk past them, some laughing, others holding hands tightly. Tim feels a pang of jealousy deep inside him. Why couldn't he just be like they with you? He's like a ridiculous child.

Just as Tim had those thoughts, you takes his hand and looks down, looking at their intertwined hands, enjoying the touch. You looks at Tim and smiles warmly.

Tim's mind starts working fast like a complex machine. There's an idea brewing inside him, and he knows that if it works out, it might just save the date. It's risky, but hey, when you're on a mission to impress your girlfriend, how can you afford to take risks?

He sees the smile on your face, and it's like a ray of sunshine breaking through the dark clouds in his mind. It feels as if everything is suddenly okay again. Just seeing you happy makes all the stress and guilt go away for a moment.

His thoughts are interrupted when you squeeze his hand gently. You look up at him with those beautiful eyes, full of understanding and affection. He tightens your hand lightly, not wanting to scare you with how much this small gesture means to him. But he knows that, even though he tries to hide it, you can see the love and affection in his eyes. “Let's just walk around, maybe we'll find something fun to do.” Tim says, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

They walk down streets filled with neon lights and loud music. There are people everywhere, laughing, talking, enjoying themselves. It's almost overwhelming after being stuck inside the dark theater for so long. The smell of hot dogs and cotton candy mixes with the exhaust fumes from passing cars. It's chaotic yet somehow comforting, like being part of a bustling ecosystem.

He feels guilty for bringing you here; this isn't how he imagined their date would go. They were supposed to have dinner at some fancy restaurant or something romantic like watching stars in Central Park. But they never seemed to have time for those things anymore.

“Maybe we could get some ice cream?” Tim suggests, feeling silly even asking such a simple question.

“I like the idea.” You nod with a smile as looks at Tim. “I love ice cream.”

He feels a sense of relief wash over him as you agree to his suggestion. It's not much, but it's something. Something that might just make this date worthwhile after all. They walk hand in hand towards the nearest ice cream parlor, both trying to ignore the cold wind that's picking up outside. He knows that this is his chance to make things right. To show you that he cares about more than just being a hero. That he can be a good boyfriend too.

They find an ice cream parlor not far from where they are, and Tim leads the way inside. The place is filled in the smell with freshly made waffle cones, vanilla and chocolate, and there are people of all ages enjoying their treats. It feels like a small oasis in the middle of the chaotic city.

As they wait in line, Tim takes the opportunity to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You don't resist, and for a moment, everything else fades away. It's just the two of them, standing in line for ice cream on a Friday night. And it feels perfect.

Finally, it's their turn at the counter. Tim orders two scoops of your favorite flavor - chocolate chip cookie dough. As he hands you the cup, he leans in close and whispers in your ear. “You know what I love about this moment?” You shake your head, confused. “The anticipation,” he says, winking at you.

“Anticipation?” You repeat, chuckling softly.

“Yes!” he exclaims. “The anticipation of digging into this delicious ice cream.” And with that, he takes a bite of his ice cream as he hands you yours.

She lets out a laugh at Tim's actions, grabbing her ice cream as she smiles at her boyfriend. “You're silly.” She says teasingly as she began to eat her own ice cream.

“And you're beautiful,” he replies, taking a bite of his own ice cream. He watches as you savor each spoonful, enjoying the simple pleasure of this moment together. It may not be the most exciting date they've ever had, but it's something that neither of them will ever forget.

He watches as you eat your ice cream, enjoying the sight of your lips wrapped around the spoon. It's such a simple thing, but it fills him with joy. You look so happy, and he feels like everything is going to be okay. At least for tonight. He loved that smile and didn't want to see you cry over the ice cream, even when you dropped yours because of a stray dog.

As they walk back through the streets of Gotham, hand in hand, Tim knows that no matter what challenges lie ahead, he will always do everything in his power to make sure that you are safe, loved, and happy. And even if things don't always go according to plan, at least they can find comfort in each other's arms. Because in the end, that's all that really matters. Because with you, even the most ordinary moments can become extraordinary.

[bestfriend491]

May I please request something about Ramonda and reader, reader is in love with her, but hasn't told her because of propriety. One day, she accidentally makes it obvious.

Propriety

Queen Ramonda x Female Sculptor! Reader

Summary: You have a huge crush on Ramonda, but your avoidant personality and nerves stop you from confessing. An accidental confession changes things.

Word Count: 4.5k

Getting together, soft

Warnings: None

Vibration was the word of the day. The thing that consumed the room and took hold of every molecule that was in the air. It powered from the speakers that surrounded every corner of the room where the doors opened to the palace garden, all the way through to deep inside the intricate vines that built the structure that held the garden together.

The sound waves that made these vibrations matched the rhythm of the crowd of bodies that filled the platform where people were meant to mingle with each other. The bodies were young. Full of energy. Basically everything that made Ramonda question why she was still there.

What had once been a birthday party for the royal figure, quickly turned into the social event of the year for what felt like every person in Wakanda between the ages of 21 and 35. As soon as the sun went down and the important ceremonies and traditions had been done, the place became filled with "family friends" and "friends of friends." Just a bunch of people that Ramonda wasn't remotely related to in any way. People who were just there for free food and a good night.

Granted, this was only the situation that infected the dance floor. The surrounding tables and chairs that held more familiar and important figures were the complete opposite. It was filled with less intense interactions. A stream of unofficial meetings and very intentional networking.

Both scenarios weren't anything Ramonda was interested in participating in. Her slight scowl towards the music getting louder would reveal that to anyone who cared to notice.

Standing in a corner nursing a glass of water, her eyes went along the entire room thoroughly looking for anyone who would try to look for her if she left early to hide away and rest after the long day.

Firstly, the Dora. She had relieved them all of their duties for the day, but they always had a tendency to be looking out for her, even when directed not to.

She counted as many heads as she could, and after seeing what felt like an appropriate amount of Dora either quietly socialising at the tables or dancing in the middle, she felt sure enough, writing them off as occupied.

Her next thought, after the Dora Milaje, was Shuri. She'd been able to convince Shuri to spend the day away from her lab, and although quite begrudgingly, she had agreed.

Ramonda took the small action as a great accomplishment. Seeing how painful Shuri made socialising look sometimes.

The beginning of the day was filled with whispered complaints about almost every small thing. From the beginning of the day she was talking her mother's ear off.

Ramonda wasn't sure when she lost the girl in the crowd, but she was grateful when it happened. Never had she been so grateful to be whisked away into pointless conversation.

Hours later, however, she couldn't remember having found her daughter again. She assumed that Shuri would have snuck out as soon as no one was watching, but surprisingly, as scanned the crowd, she saw her daughter right in the centre of the madness.

She didn't look like she was trapped there either. She was genuinely enjoying herself while dancing with some friends. Ramonda recognized them from the few times that Shuri had ever decided to take a break and enjoy people's company away from work.

Ramonda smiled, feeling good knowing that at least one of them was enjoying themselves. At the same time, she made her way out of the room towards the front exit of the palace, figuring that going into the garden would only bring another kind of crowd that wanted to talk to her, or take more of her energy away.

Reaching the other side of the palace, Ramonda inhaled like she'd been suffocating for the entire day: which was technically true.

The air felt colder, and her clothes were suddenly loose-fitting. She finally felt able to acknowledge what the day really was. Instead of having to pretend to be overjoyed at the overdramatics of it all.

She laughed at her own overdramatic reaction, realising how she might have looked to anyone who passed by. She wasn't being held hostage after all.

Looking around she saw the dark sky being lit up by the stars. A refreshing view.

She wasn't tired anymore. Her previous wish to be left alone in her bedroom to recharge became but a past thought that meant what it said only at the brief moment when everything felt so overwhelming.

Now, she had to be out doing something. If she didn't find something to occupy herself for the hours that introduced the new day, she'd be restless when she tried to sleep.

She had an idea of where she wanted to be, but she wasn't sure if disturbing that person while they were possibly busy was a good idea.

Her mind weighed the pros and cons regarding making an impromptu visit so late at night.

"My Queen."

Ramonda's entire body tensed up and she jolted at the sudden words being spoken to her.

A figure appeared in her scope of vision, revealing herself to be Ayo.

Ramonda, breathed out. calming herself down to address her.

"Ayo. You startled me." She grinned at the Dora, and she let herself release some of her tension, but she couldn't return to the amazing state that she'd been in only seconds before.

"I'm sorry, my queen. I saw you leaving and wanted to make sure that you were safe."

Ramonda raised an eyebrow in a knowing way, "Not enjoying the party?"

"No, my queen! I am!" Ayo said nervously, clearly not sensing the queen's sarcasm.

"I wouldn't blame you if you weren't. There's a reason I left."

Ayo seemed to ease then, her shoulders lowering and her posture relaxing. She even let out a breath, breathing in the cold air that was once only Ramonda's.

Looking at her, Ramonda could tell that Ayo needed the break just as much as her, so she couldn't be upset.

"I'm not great with things like this," Ayo let out after a long line of silence, "parties are more of Aneka's thing."

"Mm, and you just couldn't say no because of how happy she looks?"

The warrior nodded, a question plastered on her face.

Ramonda smiled, "I used to force myself to do the same thing with T’Chaka. Oh, the events I went to." she laughed at the memory of the many nights that resembled this one. Ones where the palace became her enemy; her home infiltrated by disruptive people.

Though she usually saw these memories in a positive light, the day's events had drained her, and the thought of them brought a bitter taste in her mouth. There were definitely some nights where she put her needs aside to fulfil the needs of the nation. As queen, she was exhausted. Those memories only tired her more.

She rather chose to think of memories where she had zero obligations to be anything but who she was naturally. Times when she was completely relaxed the entire time.

Only one person was ever there in these memories, and they only ever did one thing. Ramonda pictured staring at them as they worked, the conversation flowing almost telepathically.

The desire to be doing exactly that brought Ramonda back to reality. She looked at Ayo, who had gone into her own world.

"If you need a break, go take one at home. Aneka's a good woman. She'll understand."

Ayo stood still for a moment, her mouth wanting to protest but her head knowing who was right.

"Do you need a break, my queen?" She asked.

Ramonda shook her head, "Not right now. I have something I want to do first."

"Are you going to see someone?"

"You could say that." Ramonda gestured for Ayo to walk out with her. Though hesitantly looking back inside where Aneka must have been, she followed the queen.

The two walked together for a few roads, before Ayo departed to the train that would take her home.

"Enjoy your night, Queen Ramonda." She smiled at her, before heading on her way.

Ramonda stood in one place long after Ayo left, not sure where to go. She'd decided that she was definitely going to visit the person that was constantly in her head, but where to find her was a bit more tricky.

She wasn't like regular people on the weekend, who were either at home relaxing or outside unwinding with others. Ramonda knew that she was probably working on one of her creations. She sculpted. Every day and every night. She created.

Create was the only way to describe what she did. She didn't just make. The sculptures that came from her hands could only be described as creations. They were their own beings. Creatures set in stone.

The amount of effort that she put into bringing life into the frozen statues always amazed the queen.

The woman was so passionate about what she did. She never stopped working. Allegedly not even when she was in her own home, where there was no obligation to create.

Rumours said that her house was filled with her more personal works. Ones that Ramonda could only imagine were far more precious to the woman.

That's all that was known about the home, by Ramonda or anyone else. It was all that the woman had ever told her. The queen had never actually been inside. No-one had.

The house, which sat not too far from the palace, had a gorgeous exterior. It was open for all to see. Surrounded with minimalistic yet detailed statues that decorated the more boring parts of the build. It was medium in size, and the lights that glazed the statues in a golden colour during the night were often on.

Ramonda admired it whenever she came to pass it, but never dared to try and go in.

Everybody knew how sacred the inside of the house was to the woman. It was the one place where her talent wasn't on full display for everyone to see.

Ramonda had come to realise that although the woman was extremely welcoming, she also had moments where she needed to escape. Unlike the palace, her home brought her that protection.

Knowing this, She was hesitant to go there and possibly intrude on the one place the woman had to herself.

However, there was one place where the woman welcomed anyone to join her. It was a lot less glamorous, a simple studio that the woman had built not too far away from her home. That was where her professional work happened.

Ramonda had been there many times over the years, and she had spent a significant amount of time there in the past months, when her thoughts had started to run wild and her feelings grew confused.

This studio was the one place where Ramonda felt at ease, though she wasn't sure whether it was the actual building or the person who inhabited it.

Ramonda made her way to that studio, not knowing if she'd even be met with anybody there, but still going. The woman often worked late into the night, but the new day had already entered then, and the idea of her still being up working was starting to feel like more of a hope than a belief.

It was a short journey. Ramonda made it to the woman's house (which laid in darkness) but continued right, walking a bit quickly as the shed appeared in her view.

Her low hopes began to revive themselves when she saw that the studio lights were on.

Her pace quickened, the pressure from the day already leaving her mind.

She reached the front door and gathered herself together at the step, wanting to seem more composed.

The thudding noise that went through the door told her that she'd knocked.

"Who is it?!" The woman's voice echoed from inside. Ramonda's entire body became warm hearing the voice.

"I-It's Ramonda." She struggled to get out. She was suddenly completely out of breath. She heard some shuffling going around, and a faint 'oh' sound coming from inside.

"Come in, come in. My hands are a bit occupied."

She listened, letting herself in as she curiously went to find where she was. It wasn't very hard to spot her as she worked. She stood on a dangerously long ladder, working in the middle of dozens of other sculptures. One slip would definitely cause some damage, but she stood very firmly on the ladder, knowing how to stay safe on it.

Her hands were definitely occupied as she held a large sculpted head that she was trying to attach to the body that matched it.

Ramonda was stunned,completely speechless at the sight. She stood staring at the woman, smiling naturally for the first time since she'd last seen her days before.

"Like what you see?" You asked rhetorically.

You worked on your sculpture for the first 10 minutes after Ramonda's arrival, needing to get this one done before you went down to talk to her properly.

She'd failed to answer your question, much as you'd expected her to. You hadn't looked at her, but you could feel her eyes fixed on you. Or maybe it was on your work. You couldn't be sure, since she tended to do both whenever you were both alone there.

You heard her come closer to you, barely a mere away when she stopped, and though you wanted to say something about it, you chose otherwise.

Once finished, you stepped down from the ladder. You nearly bumped into the queen, your shoulders grazing as you went down the last step towards the left of where she stood.

Stepping back, you admired your work as you stared at the finished product.

"How long have you been working on that? " Ramonda asked you as she stood next to you still staring up in awe.

"A few weeks. It gets picked up in a few days so I decided to get it done early."

"It's amazing." She choked out, touching your arm to show you how sincere she was being. You smiled at her emotional reaction.

You were terrible at taking credit for anything that you did well, so you shrugged it off going for the more analytical approach.

"I can still see the connection line by the neck. I'm gonna have to go over it tomorrow."

The queen immediately looked at you with an unamused expression, "Can you take credit for your hard work at least once in a while. It's perfect."

Your face felt flooded with heat as blood rushed up, and imaginary sweat fell from your forehead as you thanked the queen for her compliments.

"How was the party?" You asked, having missed it due partly to work but also because you weren't a party person. You wanted to be there to celebrate another year of your queen's life but parties were overwhelmingly long and you never lasted more than a few hours.

"It was better than I've had in a while," she looked for a chair to sit down in before continuing, "but stuff like that never lasts long." You found another chair, sitting across from her but still fairly close.

"I got your gift though." She smiled at the memory of the little sculpture that she had been gifted earlier in the day, when you'd dropped it off without saying a word to her.

"I love it." She said.

You couldn't hold back a smile then, your desire to give Ramonda enough gifts to make her constantly be happy.

You could admit to your feelings for Ramonda in a heartbeat if you were ever asked by someone, but nobody ever did and you struggled to ever confess anything to her by yourself. You preferred to keep your distance when it came to that.

Grand gestures weren't really your thing, and with how important Ramonda was to the kingdom, you were scared to cross a boundary with her that could never be reversed.

Then came the inevitable thought of if she didn't like you in the same ways that you did her.

It would be far too humiliating for you to face her if that were the case. It just wasn't the right time, and you weren't sure if it ever would be.

"Are you still going to work on other things right now? Maybe you could teach me something before I go?" She asked.

"I was actually going to go back to my house, now."

You saw Ramonda hesitate to say what she clearly wanted to ask. Your eyes lit up with an idea, the one thing you could do to bring Ramonda ease.

"Would you like to join me?"

She gasped, "Nobody ever joins you in there." She said, shocked that you'd even offered. She was genuinely concerned about it.

"This can be the one exception. It was just your birthday a few hours ago. Just promise not to reveal any of my secrets. "

You laughed, and the two of you looked at each other, and for a moment something took over you. You nearly broke and told it all, telling her about your crush on her.

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, your head came back to you and you covered up for yourself. "Or I could take you back to the palace."

"No!" Ramosa stood up and said, "Sorry, it's just I really don't want to go back there for a while."

You hummed in understanding, standing up and holding out your hand for her to take.

"Then let's go."

She took your hand, and once again one of those moments happened, but this time it didn't fade until you got to the front door of your house.

There you let go of each other. You unlocked the door and walked inside, holding it open for her to follow you.

"Welcome!" You declared dramatically, placing your arms out like you were absorbing it all in.

She looked around, not saying a word as she looked around.

"It's…" She started

"An exact replica of my studio?" You offered, knowing that the place was nearly identical to the place you'd just been in, only bigger.

"It's an exact replica of your studio." Ramonda laughed as she realised how right you were.

The aesthetic was exactly the same, and much of the unused space was filled with sculptures, just like the ones that surrounded your ladder.

It was exactly what anyone would expect from you. Almost too close to what people would expect.

Ramonda approached the sculptures when she found them, picking up a few small ones that were laid across the table to see them more closely.

"Why do you keep these hidden away?"

"All of the sculptures that I make here are about me and the things that I love. I don't want people to see them. They're too special."

You went into the direction of the kitchen, deciding to make yourself something warm to drink.

You went on about some of your favourite sculptures of yours. Telling the queen about your working process and some of your inspiration.

After sometime, she stopped saying anything, concerning you enough to go back to where she was.

You found her holding another sculpture. One that was all too familiar.

"You said all of the sculptures that you make here are about things you love?" She nearly accused you, her expression asking far deeper questions.

You got closer and saw that the sculpture she was holding was of her.

You remember the day that you knew.

It was the very first time that the two of you met.

You had been recommended to the royal family by a friend and you went to the palace to work on a special statue for them.

You were extremely nervous that day. Your equipment felt heavier than usual as you carried it to your destination and you hadn't yet moved to your current home so you had to go a much longer trip to get there.

You started in the morning, working quietly alone in a room that was allocated to you. It was when you had made the basic structure when the most therapeutic voice rang through your ears.

You'd heard it on-screen and far away before, but hearing it close to you was a completely different experience.

You pretended not to be so interested in the person who spoke outside, continuing with your work until it was finished and ready to dry at the end of your day.

You went to wash your hands before saying your goodbyes to everyone, and when you came back a woman stood in front of your work.

You could only see the back of her, and she wore a casual strapless dress. The perfect mix of simple and elegant. Her hair was down, and her locs laid down across her shoulders.

You stood looking at her, scared to say anything.

You spotted a tattoo on her left side of her back, by her shoulder. You could read it; the words saying, 'love me for who I am.'

You were fond of it.

"How long have you had that tattoo?" You asked, prompting the woman to turn around, revealing herself to be the queen.

You immediately wanted to retract your previous statement, completely mortified that that was what you'd chosen to say to her out of all things.

"I'm sorry. I saw it and thought it looked nice."

She smiled at you and told you that she'd had it for a long time. Your conversation was fairly good considering its starting point.

She admired your work, praising you for the detail.

You were too busy to accept her dinner invitation that night, but you would have declined either way.

Her presence made you feel things that you hadn't in a while, and considering her marital status at that time, you weren't comfortable digging yourself any further into a love hole.

Ramonda was confused as to why you left so soon, but her overall opinion on you was that she liked you.

You left in a hurry, barely greeting her and her husband as you let. But you knew from that day that you were in love.

Ramonda also remembered the moment she knew.

It was a lot longer after you knew, many years having passed since your first meeting. The two of you had grown quite close and Ramonda considered you to be one of her closest friends.

She hadn't felt anything significant towards you in your years knowing each other, every standstill moment you had being chalked up to normal silences.

She found herself only thinking about the possibility of herself liking you after a situation with Shuri.

She had been pestering Ramonda into trying to find love again, saying that it had been long enough. Although Ramonda could admit that she missed the physical touch and overall feeling of being in love, she didn't feel like she was ready to start dating yet. She wasn't even sure if she was capable of falling in love again.

Over and over again she dismissed Shuri's suggestions.

"Shuri, forget it. I'm not going to fall for someone again so easily." She told her that day, before Dismissing her to go and get ready.

You arrived not too long after, in a quinjet.

With you was a finished sculpture of a Dora Milaje that you'd been paid to make for the entrance of the training grounds.

All of the Dora Milaje came to watch you reveal the final result, so you were occupied for most of the day.

When dinner came along, you made a remark about how beautiful Ramonda was, and the queen couldn't help but smile widely, unable to stop.

Shuri was quick to notice this, and as soon as they were finished she went to her mother and called her out on it, "You like Y/n?" She asked.

"What? No!" Ramonda whispered.

"You do! " Shuri gasped, more happy that she was right than shocked.

She teased her mother silently for the rest of the night, and by the time Ramonda went to bed, she was utterly exhausted from it all.

When she laid her head on her pillow and tried to flush the thoughts about you out, they only seemed to increase.

That night, she dreamt about you, and she knew that she was in love.

You stared at the sculpture that had yet to leave Ramonda's hands. A face sculpture that imagined what used to be her long white locs in a flower-like style above her head.

It was, in its entirety, just her head and shoulders. It was filled with intense, almost overwhelming detail. Every crinkle in her skin, ever crease by her eyes, even the rare blemishes made an appearance there.

You'd decided to paint it too, so the colours only magnified how much detail there was.

She looked at the back of the sculpture, seeing how you had even gotten her tattoo there. Clearly it read 'love me for who I am.'

Ramonda was surprised that you knew what it said, since it was usually covered.

She was going to repeat herself if you didn't respond quickly. She'd asked you her question many minutes ago.

You had very foolishly revealed yourself with the stupid slick comment that you just had to have made moments before she found that one sculpture.

There really was no coming back from the obvious.

"Ramonda. I…" you were quickly left speechless again.

"Y/n. Do you love me?"

"Excuse me?" Once more you stuttered your way through the question, not a single coherent sentence coming out of you. Denial turned into a wave of shame, followed by pride, fear and an approaching headache.

"Do you love me, Y/n?" She repeated.

"I," were ready to deny it, to spare your heart of the potential ache it was about experience. Alibis for how you could lie your way out of the situation played in your head, but there truly wasn't an escape from it. "I do."

Ramonda put the piece down, afraid of dropping it. You looked anywhere but her, regretting allowing her into your safe haven. You felt like you'd betrayed yourself, breaking your one rule about your home.

"I think I love you too."

Her words threw you into a complete loop, stopping your thoughts dead in their tracks.

"What?"

"I love you."

"Huh?"

She came closer to you, stopping 2 steps away. " I love being around you and when I am not around you I'm thinking of you. It's different from anything I've ever experienced but I know it's love."

Now, you walked to her, your eyes fixed on each other.

"Are you sure?" You asked.

The room started to mould itself into its own statue.

"Yes, I'm sure. Are you sure?" She responded.

Your hands intertwined, and finally the room stopped spinning, its structure fully morphed into a blooming heart.

"I'm sure"

Hours later, as you laid out staring at the stars she asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was the nerves." You said, getting a grin and chuckle in return.

Author's Note: I genuinely hope you enjoyed this one. First Ramonda work since " I'd do it all over again" so I was a bit nervous. 😅 okoye fics are definitely coming soon but the aneka x ayo and nakia x reader girls should sit tight. Everyone is going to be served soon.

[christopherisfoive]

Echoes

A/N: This is something that I would imagine to be a part of a bigger series but then again I struggle to write long term stories lol. Maybe at some point. Really just a snippet to get the gears going lol.

(Bang Chan x reader)

I never thought something I looked forward to would become so bitter. No room left for a sweet feeling any longer. Standing here off to the side with my group on stage waiting for final announcements to be made so that we can escape this awkward tension. I look toward Lea one of my favorite people in the world and her eyes meet mine. She reaches down and grabs my hand in hers. Both of us taking in big deep breaths.

"Well, I'm glad that we showed up late to avoid the mingling before the show." I sighed as she spoke. Usually we would be the first ones here jumping at all opportunities to catch up with everyone. Especially them. "Even if we were here before, we would still be completely ignored," Kat mumbled next to us. She looked over giving me a small smile, letting me know she was on my side.

All of this was my fault. Every hard stare. Every throat cleared in passing. Although was it? I was involved sure, with the rumors, that are undeniably false, in my eyes at least. It ruined my chances at a lot of opportunities and relationships. Staring to my left across the stage he stands there with the boys. Bang Chan, leader of Stray Kids. I make it sound a little silly but he is a very important person. To everyone and to me.

My mind goes back to the beginning of all of this. I had met this trainee over at SM named Donghae. He was very sweet and polite while making conversation, introducing himself to me. I would speak to him every now and then at events in passing.

I always saw him as a great acquaintance that I got to know. I would have never said we were anything more than friends and not even very close. "Donghae how are you doing today?" He smiled at me and clasped his hands together. "Much better now that we've gotten to speak." A nice warm and innocent smile that I had grown to really appreciate. Things did change after that.

At one of the award events Donghae came up to me and pulled me aside away from the girls. "Where did Y/N go? We have to go find our seats."

I followed him to the back of the room, not expecting a change of events that would affect my career for time to come. I remember the loud speakers and the chatter of people surrounding us. The nerves on his face and some sweat beading from the top of his forehead. I had a small smile on my face as he spoke.

Then I felt it slowly falter.

"Donghae, I-" I didn't know what to say. More like I knew what it was but I just didn't want to. Only because I knew that it would be what he didn't want to hear. I also heard something that I did not want to, so would it make it even? That is surely a silly way to think right? Thinking. I feel like I have been thinking for an eternity and he is standing right in front of me.

I played with my fingers, trying to not meet his eyes. I looked around for an escape but I didn't have one.

I coughed a bit hoping to get the words out. "That is very sweet of you Donghae but I just..." I closed my eyes and bit my lip. His eyes sparkled a bit and then they became dim in seconds. He knew. "I am sorry but I am not interested, I am really trying to focus on the group. I really want to put my all into this you know?" He looked down kicking his feet a bit. "It's fine Y/N, I understand. Sorry about that.

"Oh no you don't have to-" He walked away not waiting for another response.

I felt a small nudge to my back. I blinked a couple times remembering that I was standing on stage with a tons of our peers. I followed behind Lea walking towards the front of the stage to descend the steps as everyone began to leave.

As I was about to step down I made a sudden stop and almost tripped over myself. Bang Chan next to me and the rest of stray kids behind him. "Be careful guys we wouldn't want to get on her bad side." He smirked and proceeded to walk on off the stage. His lost boys following behind him. The last of them, Felix, gave me a sincere look of concern.

I sighed and walked down to the girls. "What an ass."

"Yeah its a good thing you never got involved with him." I force a laugh looking around again. He still thinks ill of me because of what I did. They all do. Lea noticed me becoming more aloof and linked her arm with mine. "You know he doesn't know the whole story right? It would take a village to get all of these people to understand. Why try?"

I would try in hopes of clearing my name. These people's opinions were important to me for some reason. Was it so wrong that I wanted their attention? I wanted his attention?

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

Friends who are reading Fine is a Four-Letter Word, I know the series has been going on for a while so you might need a bit of a memory jog to give the creeper reveal in Chapter Five more context. Instead of having to go back and hunt through past installments, I've laid it all out for you under the cut:

So, Ramsay was the guy that Voight was using Vinnie to catch (and consequently Bex) during the OP in Reckless (With My Heart)

Here's when they first talk about him:

“There was a phone call,” she finally said. “Cal said it was…Ramsay? Vinnie got mad at him for interrupting and told him to shut up. He got me out of there pretty quickly after that.”

Al shot a quick look at Hank and caught the same light of recognition in his eyes. “You sure he said Ramsay?” he asked Bex.

She nodded. “Positive.”

“Who’s Ramsay?” Burgess asked.

“Book cooker,” Al said. “Hence the nickname. Slippery too. No one’s ever been able to pin him down.”

**They go through with the OP because this might be their only chance to pin him down.

** THEN we have his first appearance on the body cam when Bex is trapped in Vinnie's office:

A young guy with shaggy blond hair and glasses was standing in the doorway of what looked like another room attached to the other side of the office. He was stealing glances at Bex as he ducked his head shyly.

(a little later in the scene)

“Who’s your friend?” Bex’s voice came through the speakers, holding steady…for now.

“This is Ramsay,” Vinnie answered and Voight’s eyes lit up. “He wanted to meet the singer behind tonight’s incredible performance.”

(A bit later...)

Vinnie was pulling more guns out of the cabinet as Ramsay chucked the bag to the ground, still arguing with him. "Leave this crap and unlock the door so we can get out of here," Ramsay was saying. "We'll take the girl and we can access the money from anywhere. Let's go."

She did not like the sound of that. Bex's brain was spinning as she tried to think of a way out of this. She took a deep breath and another look at her surroundings. There was a desk nearby.

**THEN later, the first hints that there's a LOT more to Ramsay than even the team had realized:

The biggest surprise had come after processing Ramsay—his prints hit for a number of unsolved assault cases. Twenty-two years old and a felon on multiple fronts. The forensic team was working their way through his laptop as well and it looked like more empires than Vinnie’s were about to take a hit.

***At the beginning of There's a Way, we see further clues of his obsession with Bex forming:

Jay was about ready to drink away the dregs of this last week too. Vinnie’s side of the case had been easy enough to pack up, but Ramsay (real name Robert Forrest) had been a headache and a half. At first glance, the laptop had been simple to decipher. Turned out it had been surface stuff. Easily cracked info on admittedly big names they were after, but it was all bread crumb trails to pull their focus from Ramsay himself.

The forensic accounting team was still trying to trace the millions of dollars the kid had squirreled away from the various operations he’d been working with. Then the FBI swooped in and they weren’t having much better luck.

Apparently, Ramsay was some kind of tech genius on top of being a serial violent offender. Jay couldn’t wait to get him out of their precinct and out of their city.

He’d been in the observation room during some of the interrogation and the guy had mostly kept quiet, just staring at the window, right at Jay. Like he knew exactly where he was.

Eyes unblinking behind his glasses, Ramsay had refused to answer their questions with anything but questions of his own. And they were all about Bex.

How’d that pretty girl make out? Did Vinnie leave any marks on her? What was her name? Bex? Bex. I liked her voice. I wanted her to sing for me. Don’t you think she’d make beautiful sounds?

Ruzek and Olinsky had to stop him from charging into the room and squashing the little bastard.

**THEN: In Honesty. Horrible, Horrible Honesty, when Bex and the Taggerts do the instagram live thing, Ramsay is one of the creepy commenters. His screen name is yeschef - which was probably a too subtle hint on my part? But the logic was his nickname is Ramsay because he cooks the books - Ramsay as in Gordon Ramsay so I had him take the screen name yes chef as his own personal joke. He posted:

yeschef: love to hear the pain in your voice bex

And then Emery says this while she's scrolling through the comments on Bex's phone:

“Ooh, okay, this guy made a ton of comments,” she said, scrolling through Bex’s pictures. “You should only sing sad songs. Your pain is so beautiful. I’d love to see you cry. Oh, Jesus—I’m reporting this one. He’s creepy. Goodbye, yeschef.” **All of the anonymous cutaway scenes at Statesville are Ramsay

**THEN when Bex is in the hospital and she received the red asters, those are from Ramsay. Anytime she receives those going forward (which she has at least twice so far, I believe), they'll be from Ramsay. Red asters symbolize undying devotion.

I hope this helps for anyone who was confused! I know it's been a long time since those earlier installments were posted and a LOT has happened in the story since then. As I mentioned in the ao3 notes, we're going to keep having glimpses of Ramsay until he gets involved in a case that Jay and Hailey are going to work and that's all going to be lead-up to a massive arc involving him and [redacted redacted REDACTED!] Lots to look forward too! 😂

Adding a new image of Bill Skarsgård who I have in mind as who would play Ramsay - just to help you picture him in your brain!

Let me know if you have any questions.

[tala-bez-i]

At first sight Chapter Thirty-Seven

(m!reader x Bonten!Haruchiyo Sanzu)

Fluff/slash/reader is male/cursing/BontenTimeline/drugs and alcohol mentioned/violence/blood/death

All characters that appeared in the Tokyo Revengers manga and anime belong to Ken Wakui.

Words: 3233

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You were sitting on the sofa with your arms crossed over your chest and watching the woman sitting in the armchair, who was looking thoughtfully at the photo of the man you had given her. Or at least she was trying to focus on the photo, because the pink-haired man walking around the living room was effectively disturbing the peace that had been present in the room until now. 

You looked back at Sanzu, whose temple and neck had visible veins pulsating. His handsome face was twisted in an angry grimace, and the hand he wasn't holding the phone in was moving violently and clenching into a fist every now and then. 

He was arguing fiercely over the phone with yet another person. He started with his brother, Takeomi, trying to call Tetta Kisaki, who didn't answer, and now he was shouting at Hanma, whose voice sounded quite amused by the fact how close Sanzu was to losing control of himself. 

Reason? Trying to get more information from your old colleagues from Valhalia, including all the necessary reports. 

Effect?  

*slap!* 

The man's open hand slammed down on your bar counter with all its strength. 

The effect was less than negligible. 

“Do you realize the seriousness of the situation?!” He yelled again, switching the conversation from speaker to normal mode. "No, damn it! This is not just about Y/n! And it's especially not about the prostitute!" 

“Maybe we should go back upstairs? You'll be able to think in a little more silence.” You asked Rosie, but she just shook her head and put the photo on the coffee table. 

“I think I saw someone like that about a year and a half ago, but I'm not sure.” 

“That's something.” You leaned forward a little and rested your elbows on your knees. “Do you remember where...?” 

“Hanma, for fuck's sake! Stop laughing and start talking, where is fucking Kisaki?!” Sanzu drowned out your question and both you and Rosie winced slightly. “What did you say?” The tone and level of his voice changed dramatically and you looked up at him worriedly. “What do you mean, since this case doesn't concern Mikey and Bonten, it loses priority?” 

Oh fuck... 

“Have you lost your mind, Hanma? The bastard was killing our whores! Until he's eliminated, pimping will be a loss!” Haruchiyo poured out his pills from the bottle and popped two into his mouth, washing them down with alcohol straight from the bottle. “Do you hear yourself or not? Yes, I know what could do the trick. No. We have to try other methods first. Where the fuck is Kisaki?” 

Rosie stood up from her armchair and slowly walked over to the window to look out at your garden. She rubbed her arms as if she was cold, but you knew it was because of the stress she was under right now. 

You wanted to stand up and go over to her, but Sanzu turned around and gave you a vague look. He nodded once. “Okay. Y/n will be over there tomorrow night.” He hung up and tapped his device against his open palm a few times as if thinking about something, then smiled crookedly. 

“Kisaki will prepare all the reports they have. You’ll have to read them on the spot. Maybe you’ll find some important information they haven’t shared with us yet.” 

“Maybe they'll have some pictures.” The woman chimed in, still looking out the window. 

“Yes, maybe they will.” Sanzu gave her a long look. “Do you remember anything?” 

“I'm not sure. When I was in places other than the brothels and Bonten's hideout, I was surrounded by crowds of people.” She rubbed her arm again and shook her head slightly, her blonde hair gently brushing her shoulders. “I may have seen someone similar, but I don't know.” 

Sanzu mumbled some curse. “I’m sorry, Sanzu. It didn’t occur to me that I should be observing all the people I would meet in my life.” The woman began, but he waved her off. 

“Your job is to spread legs for clients, not to keep a journal of observations.” 

“When you said you knew what would do the trick, did you mean to put out information on where to find me?” You asked, not taking your eyes off the gangster. 

“Don’t even start, Y/n.” 

You shrugged, leaning your back against the couch again. “I’m just asking. That’s how I would do it. I’m just a pawn, Sanzu…” 

“Shut your stupid mouth.” He growled menacingly and looked at his phone again. “Gather your things, Rosie. Takeomi will take you out of here.” 

The woman looked at him carefully before turning her head to you and you shrugged. 

“It’s my house, but he’s the boss.” You said and the pink-haired man snorted quietly. 

“And since when do you stick to that, huh?” 

“I guess we can say the jokes are over, don't you think?” You replied and silence fell over the living room, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the wall. 

“I'll go get ready.” The short woman said quietly, quickly leaving the room, as if sensing that a more heated exchange of words between you and Sanzu could occur at any moment. 

“Do you think I'm an idiot?” The man asked coldly, and you ran your tongue along the inside of your teeth. “I have no intention of handing you over to the enemy just because it's the easiest way. We have to do this once and do it right. What you're suggesting is simply taking a shortcut.” 

“What if Kisaki and Hanma don't have information that could contribute to the case?” 

“Kisaki always has something up his sleeve. You know that.” You raised an eyebrow but didn't deny it. “He likes it when his is on top.” 

“I would say that he was allowed to do too many things, but…” You spread your arms, which you then placed behind your head and looked at the ceiling. “Who am I to point that out to you.” 

Sanzu slowly walked over to the window, completely ignoring your statement and reached for the pack of cigarettes lying on the low table. He lit one and took a deep drag, exhaling the smoke very slowly. 

“I should have listened to him.” He mumbled quietly and you turned your head slightly to be able to hear him better. 

“Hmm? What are you talking about?” 

“Mucho told me to watch out for you. Not to let you get too close, because in time you’ll become my anchor.” 

“Anchor?” You frowned slightly, stood up from the couch and started walking towards him. “Even a year after his death, we were still just partners in crime. We weren’t even friends…” 

“And that’s how it should stay.” He looked at you with cold indifference, but there was something completely different in his eyes. “Boss and employee, nothing more.” 

“And yet it turned out completely different.” 

“It was all your fault.” 

“In what sense?” You asked, watching him very carefully. 

He grabbed your face with one hand and squeezed, digging his fingertips into your cheeks. He pulled you closer to him, took another drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke right into your face, but it didn’t make much of an impression on you. Your eyes were still glued to his face. 

“You accepted me for who I was. You cherished your feelings for me all these years, never trying to change me for a moment.” 

“I had nothing to say.” You said with slight difficulty, unable to move your lips freely. “You have always been my boss, and despite the current state of our relationship, you always will be, Sanzu.” 

“I want to beat the living daylights out of you, you know? Beat you so hard you won’t be able to get back up.” He turned your head to the side, took another drag on his cigarette, and brought it close to your face, close to your eye. “I want to burn you, disfigure you, so that no one will ever want you again.” 

“Then do it, but only if it gives you real satisfaction.” 

“You won’t set any conditions on me, L/n.” He growled and let you go, turning back to the window. 

You stood there for a moment, staring at the back of his head, fighting not to reach for him. 

“Have you already written me off?” You asked quietly, and the man’s hand, holding the cigarette, froze halfway to his mouth. “Tell me honestly, please.” 

“You were always written off.” He replied coldly, and your heart skipped a beat. “You were always a dog, a pawn, and you always will be.” 

You nodded and started to turn around to go upstairs and check if Rosie was ready for Takeomi’s arrival when Sanzu suddenly grabbed your forearm, pulled you close, and kissed you hard, completely surprising you. 

He tasted like a cigarette he had just finished smoking, but you didn't mind. You let him hold you, taking in as much of the closeness as you could, and when he pulled away from you, there was uncertainty in his eyes instead of anger. 

"I'm not done with you." He mumbled, tightening his grip on your hand. "You're mine, Y/n. Mine and mine alone, and I don't like the prospect of ending it, do you understand?" 

"Sanzu..." You gently stroked his forearm with your fingers, especially the area around his tattoo. “No matter how it ends, I will always be by your side.” 

“Don’t you dare make this conversation sound like a farewell.” 

“I’m not doing this…” 

“First you made me promise myself that if the situation required it, I would kill you, and now this. I will always be by your side. How else am I supposed to understand that, hmm? Can you explain it to me?” 

“You were the one who just said I was doomed from the start...” 

“Don't point out my own words, L/n.” 

You let out a short laugh. “Tell me, please. When was the last time we had such a serious conversation? I don't mean talking about some bullshit.” 

“Fucking girls in clubs is not bullshit.” Haruchiyo tried to joke, but his grip on your hand didn’t loosen even a little. 

“Sanzu…” You sighed, but suddenly the bell rang, signaling that someone was waiting at the gate. 

“It’s definitely Takeomi.” Sanzu let go of your hand and went to the intercom to check who was there. “Yeah, it’s him…” 

He let the man onto your property and you walked up to the door to greet the guest. 

As soon as you opened the door, Takeomi looked at you with a grim expression. “Good evening.” You said as you let him in. “Or at least I would like it to be.” 

“Me too. Did Sanzu talk to you?” 

“Depends on what…” 

“I’m just about to, there were more important things to discuss.” The aforementioned man cut in and Takeomi gave him a disappointed look. 

“Is something wrong?” You asked, looking from one to the other, waiting for some kind of explanation. 

“Someone turned Nagasawa in to the police.” 

“What?” You asked, surprised. “What about Junko?” 

Akashi shrugged and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket. “We’re looking for her.” 

“When did the police catch him?” 

“The day after he and Junko were taken from Glimmera.” The advisor took a drag on his cigarette and anticipated your question. “No, we don’t know who’s behind it. I have no idea why we found out about it so late. We told them to keep quiet for the first week, but we found out about the arrest this morning, straight from the street.” 

“But our contact at the police is Junko’s brother, he should let us know about any action, right?” You asked, frowning. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t know about anything himself. After all, it was someone related to his family member.” Sanzu said. “Junko-chan has gone underground.” 

“Okay.” You shrugged slightly and rubbed your nose. “Oh well. You have to find her and that’s it.” 

“Oh well? Don’t you want to throw yourself into the search?” Sanzu asked, astonished. 

“Why would I do that?” You looked at him, equally surprised. “Bonten has people for that, and I have a much more important problem to worry about than looking for a drug addict.” 

“God, why are you so cold, Y/n. You and the lack of empathy?” Takeomi commented and looked towards the stairs, which Rosie started to walk down. 

“Y/n is right.” She said calmly and Akashi reached out to hold her bag so she could put her shoes on. “Junko-chan knows what she's doing. I don't think she's in danger.” 

“There's no sign of her...” 

The woman looked at the pink-haired man and smiled slightly. “I'll ask the girls, maybe they'll know something.” 

“What would prostitutes know?” 

“We often know a lot.” 

Takeomi laughed sourly and helped the woman up from the low seat, looking at her with interest mixed with a bit of fondness. He helped her put on her coat, gently straightening her hair and out of the corner of your eye you saw Sanzu giving him a strange look. As if his older brother had suddenly grown an extra head. 

“We all know Rosie is one of them, but somehow we sometimes forget. Funny, right?” 

“Indeed.” Haruchiyo grumbled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “You’re taking her to the hideout?” 

“I'm taking her wherever I go.” The man answered him, placing his hand on the door handle. “Focus on finding Yuu, L/n. Use all your methods to get him. Mikey's counting on you.” 

“Good luck.” Rosie said, kissing you tenderly on the cheek, she took a step back, but suddenly Haruchiyo smiled mischievously and pointed a finger at himself. 

“Aren't you going to say goodbye to me?” He asked innocently and the woman also approached him, to say goodbye to him the same way she did to you. 

You watched with amusement as Sanzu looked at his brother for that brief moment, who bristled immediately but left the situation without comment. 

“So…” You began as the door closed behind the pair. “Junko and Nagasawa, were we supposed to talk about when I got home?” 

“Yeah, but you came back with something much better.” You returned to the living room and Sanzu sat comfortably on the couch, putting both feet up on the coffee table, knowing full well that you weren’t a fan of it. He folded his hands behind his head and looked at you through his eyelashes. “I should be at the Haitanis club right now, having a great time, and you should be there with me.” 

“Sorry.” You sat down in the armchair and rubbed your face with both hands. “When is Glimmera’s official opening?” 

“Madarame mentioned three more days for finishing work. The staff has barely changed.” 

“So?” You gave him a small smile. “We're getting rid of Yuji, and we are going to the opening, right?” 

“I can’t keep up with you, and I’m the one taking drugs.” Sanzu’s eyes sparkled at your words. “You were almost writing a will just a moment ago, and now you’re planning a date?” 

“A date?” You felt your smile grow, and at the sight of the corner of Haruchiyo’s mouth twitching, your heart skipped a beat. 

“Of course it’ll be a date.” 

“With a bonus?” 

“Hmm…” The man daydreamed and made a gesture with his hands, as if he was grabbing something in both hands and gently kneading it with his fingers. “Why not? I’ll let you have fun first.” 

A quiet laugh shook your body, which was echoed by Sanzu, and when he fell silent, you looked at him as if you were trying to remember what he looked like. You yourself caught yourself losing track of your own emotions. 

One moment you were making plans for the future and enjoying every moment spent with the man who had stolen your heart all those years ago, and the next you were starting to wonder if this might not be the last time you enjoyed his closeness. As if you had a feeling that you might not survive the upcoming clash with Yuji. 

You didn't want it to be like that and you knew you would fight with all your might. You had come out of all sorts of dangerous situations unscathed or almost unscathed, and yet you didn't know the upcoming risks. You didn't think it could be as bad as the meeting with Emiko and Sugiyama, but... 

You didn't know who else worked for your brother, and he himself had nothing to lose and was unpredictable. Sure, he was guided by some sick plan of his own, but did he really know his next step? 

“What are you thinking about, huh? “Y/n?” Sanzu asked quietly and you blinked, focusing your gaze back on the man. 

“About various things. I have a question...” 

“Yes?” 

“I saw some of your drug stashes in the bathroom...” 

“Fuck...” He groaned, rolling his eyes, but you decided to ignore his reaction. 

“Didn't we have a conversation about this? No stashes in my house or anything?” 

“Stop nagging. I was supposed to spend a few days here, I needed this.” 

“Will it disappear from here?” 

“Just let me know when you invite your uncle and the kid over and I’ll remove the dangerous drugs from your house for the time being.” 

“For the time being? Seriously, Sanzu?” 

“Y/n... You know I'll bring them back here anyway.” 

“At least keep them in the safe in the basement, okay?” You sighed in defeat and the man raised a thumbs up. “Are you going to sleep tonight?” 

“Maybe. Don't wait for me.” 

You nodded, stood up from the armchair and looked at the pink-haired man once more. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow, right?” 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” 

You went upstairs and took a hot shower, after which you laid down in your bed and began to stare at the corner of the room, gently lit by the moonlight, trying to quiet all the thoughts in your head. 

Why did Yuji want to get your attention by murdering prostitutes? When did he start collaborating with Emiko? Or was it Sugiyama? So many questions that you might find the answers to once you find the source of the problem. 

 After a few minutes, when your eyelids were starting to feel heavy, a dark figure slipped into the bedroom and headed for the bathroom. You heard the door close quietly and a light appeared in the crack beneath it, and a moment later you heard the sound of the shower running. 

You rolled over to your side so that you could see Haruchiyo again before you fell asleep, but before you felt the mattress dip under his weight, you were already half asleep. 

With the last of your consciousness, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer to you without the slightest resistance. You nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of his still warm skin, and your breathing slowed. 

The man's slender fingers began to comb your hair, gently brushing it away from your forehead, and before you completely drifted off into sleep, you heard a quiet "I love you," to which you responded with an indistinct murmur. 

<PREVIOUS/NEXT>

[mavrla]

I graduated three years ago from my master’s program. I finished with a straight-A average, got the best grade on the scale from my thesis, and got picked to a research group for a multidisciplinary project from a bunch of qualified candidates. I was told by my supervisor and by the person who graded my thesis that I should continue my studies on PhD level. I wanted to continue my studies on PhD level. So what did I do when I arrived back from Rome?

Started teaching in middle school. 

The reasons were (mostly) financial: COVID shut me the opportunity to return to my old place of work, and I got offered a teaching position after sending applications to practically anywhere I could imagine working. The idea of having a job that I had an education for was alluring, too, even though I never really wanted to teach for a long term.

I have now taught in middle school for 2,5 years. I don’t particularly like the job - I like to teach, yes, and both religion and history are lovely subjects with many opportunities - as the everyday demands with cramped classrooms, students who need more individual support that it is possible for one person to offer (while still teaching all the other kids in the classroom), and the angry parents are quite a lot to deal with. They also create the kind of challenges I don’t particularly want to solve, nor have the resources to solve. On a personal level, I don’t feel like I’m moving forward or learning to be a better teacher, and so, with all this cynicism that is just increasing every day, the entire purpose of my job is to survive for a day, a week, a month, until the next vacay. Which I need to use to gather my strength and rest. The sheer noise of school/classroom makes me want to go directly to sleep after each workday. 

In short, I’m working in a job that could be interesting, but isn’t that for me. I need to find an out before I get even more burnt out than I already am.

The obvious choice, the dream choice, would be going back to the academia. But, as we all know, it isn’t that easy. PhD applications are a challenging project, where you need to stand out as both an excellent scholar and a person that is agreeable enough to work with. And trying to stand out as a middle school teacher who just *wants* to return to academia because she can’t tolerate the idea of staying in the classroom for any more time is... difficult.

I always feel like I’m not enough to apply anywhere. I might have a curious mind, but my imagination is lacking and it has always been very difficult to me to find a fresh angle to any given topic - which, to me, sounds like an essential skill to a PhD student. My English is better than it has been, but I’m still not anywhere near native speaker level, and I have little other language skills to compensate for that. I read French, Italian, and German all to some degree, but I’m not capable of writing or conversing in them. As a historian, my knowledge of ancient languages is lacking, too. My Latin isn’t as good as it should be. My Greek is barely there, as are my Hebrew and Arabic. I know I can study more, I know I *have to* study more, but still, the feeling of being just too incapable of doing anything with these skills lingers.  

I know I can write. The problem is I hate writing. After graduating, I have participated in two different article collections, and it's been an honor, but I still enjoy reading other people’s thoughts far more than I enjoy vocalizing my own. So, this has lead me to think that perhaps I don’t want a PhD, perhaps I just miss the academia - getting to read and converse and enjoy being surrounded by curious people who love the same sticks and stones I do? Maybe academia in itself is my happy place, but taking the next step there isn’t for me? 

So maybe I should leave my job and apply for another master’s. I could do history, as I already have a strong background there, or Islamic studies, psychology or philosophy, as I used to minor in those. I could expand my expertise and study something like gender/intersectionality studies. Or I could just try to apply to some prestigious school and see if the grass is greener in there, if that would make me feel like I was able to conduct original research sometime in the future.

At the same time, I feel like doing a new master’s would not only be a financial suicide but also taking a step back - a step I have already taken and completed relatively successfully. I have ideas that I love, I have willingness to pursue these ideas and see where they would take me, but taking the next step and trying to sell these ideas feels so terrifying that it’s debilitating. I have spent so many days lying in my bed reading fanfiction when I could have sent emails to some professors I know could help me (or ignore me, which probably is the more realistic worst case scenario in comparison to the imaginary derision and laughter I’m expecting in my head).

I feel so tired and confused and alone with all these thoughts and dreams and hopes and fears. Some days, they just hurt me more than they usually do, and today is just one of those days.

[starlightswitch]

On Top of Everything

(for Writer's Month day 2 prompt camping AU. The Missing Cousins Return is a Flash Fiction Friday piece from a while ago that I enjoyed, so I decided to retell it on a camping/hiking trip.)

Allie and Nathan had never been camping. Allie was pretty sure this was because Dad didn’t like camping.

Mom hadn’t actually said so, not even when she didn’t know Allie was listening, and she’d never heard her parents talk about going camping. But Mom talked about her family going camping when she was a kid, talked about it like she’d had a good time, which made it seem like she’d want to take her kids camping too. And there were plenty of other things Mom had said, when she didn’t know Allie was listening, that they didn’t do or stopped doing because Dad didn’t like them.

And now that Mom and Dad were divorced, here they were going on a big family camping trip Mom’s family did every couple of years. A camping trip Allie had never known about. A camping trip Mom had gone right out to buy sleeping bags and ground mats for.

The phone rang through the speaker and Mom took the call. “You’re on your way?” said a voice Allie didn’t know. “Not to rush you. Just wondering about the timing.”

“Almost there,” said Mom. The map said ten minutes to go.

“Okay, great. Some of us were going to go on a hike. I’ll tell them to wait until you get here.”

Allie wasn’t sure she wanted to go on a hike. Walking up a mountain sounded hard and kind of scary.

They turned in at the sign with the name of the park on it. There was a little building where Mom had to stop and show the reservation on her phone, and the person handed her a piece of paper with the date they were leaving, which Mom let Allie put on the dashboard. They followed the road across a bridge, then past a bunch of campsites. Some had RVs, some had tents, and some had something that was kind of like an RV on the bottom but a tent on the top. Like they were going to a house, Mom said “We’re looking for 27,” and Allie watched the posts at the front of the campsites and pointed out 27 when she saw it. Mom pulled forward and backed the car in.

“Tammy and Dave got 33 and 35 which are next to each other, so everyone’s hanging out there,” she explained when they were out of the car. Nathan reached for Mom’s hand, but Mom didn’t reach for Allie’s so Allie started walking on her own.

There were a lot of people in site 33. The adults were mostly standing in groups. Some of the kids were, too, but some of them were sitting on the ground playing with a dog, and some of them were playing around the trees between the site and the one next to it.

A girl about Allie’s age hopped up from where she’d been sitting, on the floor of the van parked there with her feet out the open door. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Mara.”

“Allie,” said Allie.

“I know. We were waiting for you guys.”

“Are you going hiking?” Allie gave her a long look, not sure what she was looking for. What did she expect someone her age who was going hiking to look like?

“Yep. I love hiking. And this trail is one of my favorites. It goes right up over the top of the mountain. Are you going?”

Right up over the top of the mountain sounded scarier than she’d even thought of. But Mara was going to do it, so it couldn’t be that hard, and she sounded so excited, and Allie didn’t want to say no to the first person who came up and talked to her. “Yeah, I’ll go. I’ve never actually been hiking before though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah?”

“Oh,” said Mara, like she’d just realized that made sense.

Someone tapped Allie on the shoulder than, and it was Mom, saying that some of the younger kids including Nathan were staying here with Grandma and Grandpa so it was up to Allie if she wanted to go or not. Allie said, “No, I’m going,” nodding, trying to sound confident.

They rode over with Mara’s family– Mara had a little brother too. The first part of the trail was just a path up through the woods, surrounded by trees, and Allie started thinking hiking was pretty easy, actually. Mom had been talking to Mara’s mom and they must have fallen behind. Allie kept up with Mara; they were talking a little bit too.

The trail ended at a bunch of rocks, rocks that seemed to go all the way to the top of the mountain.

 Everyone started climbing, so Allie did too.

It was fun, to her surprise, finding her way up the rocks. There were plenty of places to put her feet, and then she could grab the top of the next rock and pull herself up. And it wasn’t a really narrow mountain. She had probably been thinking of something she’d seen on TV once, a really narrow trail it would be easy to fall off. She wasn’t going to fall off the side of this mountain. She didn’t even really have to balance.

They reached some trees, and there was a little bit of a trail, and when they went out and up above the trees, they were on top of the mountain. The very top. Every direction was down, trees and rocks closer, and then lower mountains, and a valley with buildings, and more mountains in the distance.

And there was plenty of room to stand on the top of the mountain, so it wasn’t scary. It was just really, really cool.

“We should get our moms to take a picture of us,” said Mara.

“You don’t have a phone?”

“Not a smartphone. Mom says not until I’m in high school.”

“My mom too! Well, until I’m 13 but that’s really close to high school. Maybe she’ll give me one as a graduation present.”

As soon as their moms were in sight, Mara yelled to them asking if they would take the picture– interrupting her mom, who had turned to Allie’s and said, “We need to take a picture.”

“Put your arms around each other,” Mom said, getting out her phone. “This is just like a picture of the two of us when we were about your age.”

When it was taken, Mara said, “We should have a picture of you two then too. Put your arms around each other,” she instructed as she took the phone her mom held out, and Mom and Mara’s mom both grinned.

When that picture was taken, Mara’s mom said, “I’m glad you’re here,” and she and Mom shared a big hug.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Mara said to Allie.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” said Allie. “Here, and also–” She pointed down and around, trying to indicate ‘on top of this mountain’.

“You like it?” Mara said with a smile.

Allie nodded firmly. “I think it might stay my favorite too.”

-

2020 Day 2: The Unforeseen and the Unforeseeable (quarantine)

2021 Day 2: A Collection of Doubts (cold)

2022 Day 2: Dancing on the Edge (chance + dancer AU) (one of my favorites!)

[casspurrjoybell-22]

The Art of Sin - Chapter 15 - Part 2

•Ire Byakko (Kitsune)

*Warning Adult Content*

Keon had built me a computer using the parts he got when we went to the city.

The last of the monitors had arrived a few days ago so all that was left was setting it up.

"I don't have a desk to put it on," I stared at Keon who's expression had gone blank.

He cursed under his breath then met my eyes.

"Let's go get one out of storage."

I nodded and followed him downstairs.

We went to the same room I had used as a studio, however, this time when we opened the door, the room was filled with desks and chairs of all kinds.

Keon went straight to a section that had an assortment of metal desks.

He glanced between two, then nodded and headed towards the chairs, beckoning me to follow.

He had me sit in all of them, asking which felt good and what I specifically liked about them.

Finally, he chose a black one with white accents that had speakers and a variety of buttons built in.

It was comfy but durable and Keon said I could game for hours with it.

We brought the desk and chair up to my room, settling them against the wall opposite of my bed.

Going back to his room, we carefully brought everything else.

I did what Keon told me to but I mainly kept out of the way.

Soon he was done, eying his work with pride.

I did as well, astounded at how fast he got it done.

I had no clue about the specifics but anyone could see how impressive it was.

There were six screens, three per row and curved slightly.

The middle monitors were longer than the other two.

The picture was pristine, showing the beautiful wilderness of 'Skyrim'.

He went through all the specs but it went over my head.

I let him go on though because it was cute how excited he got.

He also told me that everything was enchanted so the performance rate was through the roof.

There were LED lights underneath the desk and going behind the monitors, casting blue on the wall and floor.

The keyboard and mouse had LED lights too.

Keon said I could change the color on all of them to whatever I wanted.

There were two controller holders on the side of the desk which held one black and one white controller.

An expensive looking headset hung from it's stand.

A small tripod holding a microphone was set on the desk while a larger tripod held a camera facing the chair.

I gave Keon a questioning look which he replied by mumbling something about making YouTube videos if I wanted.

I just nodded, not knowing exactly what he meant but thinking it sounded interested.

Keon took me through a computer crash course, saying that if I need to I can come to him.

He also helped me create something called a Steam account and bought all the games he thought I would like and all their expansion packs and extras.

It seemed that spending that much money was no big deal to him.

"Well, Lord Nikoli is rich and he gives everyone an allowance, you should or will have one too but I make money on the side as well as a computer programmer and hacker."

My mouth formed an 'Oh' shape, making him smile.

"I could teach you how to do it if you want?"

I nodded and he sent me a beaming smile.

It seemed that he was feeling better.

His wasn't thinking about Lord Nikoli's absence anymore.

I was happy to see this side of Keon.

Usually quiet and intimidating, I had trouble imagining him having fun but seeing him being surrounded and talking about technology?

Well, he was like a very excited puppy.

We spent the rest of the night going over how to use everything.

He showed me YouTube and how to create an account and upload videos if I wanted.

It turned out that he had a channel with around fifty thousand followers.

Keon mainly played video games on it.

He asked me if I'd like to record a video with him.

Hesitantly, I nodded.

He chuckled and told me I'd do fine.

He set up everything on my end, explaining as he went along, then went back to his room.

Soon, we were playing 'Battlefield' together, each in our own rooms and talking through the headset.

At first, I kept glancing at the camera, knowing it was recording me, but soon enough I was too into the game to notice.

Things got pretty heated and when we finished, I wondered if a lot of it was worthy to be in Keon's video.

We spent a few hours just editing the video.

Once again Keon took me through each step and showed me how everything worked.

It was a long and tiring process, especially waiting for the video to actually upload but Keon reassured me that it'd be worth it.

We laid on his bed as we waited, watching various things on Netflix.

My eyes soon drifted shut though I fought to stay awake.

Keon just shushed me and told me to sleep, his own eyelids drooping as he, too, tried not to fall asleep.

Neither one of us won and we ended up succumbing to the peaceful darkness of unconsciousness.

[rubyvhs]

part three, jack or jensen [jensen ackles]

series masterlist | main masterlist

three, 

Hey Laila, how are you? Wanted to tell you i'll finish filming at 8:30, that work?

I’ve been staring at the message for an hour before someone knocks on the door and i quickly drop the phone to see who it is. I can't believe it’s actually happening, i thought Jared was playing some kind of joke. 

"Hey!" Gen says way too loudly for my liking, "Can't wait to get drunk." 

Girls night out. Crap. 

I am not ready for this, neither am i in the mood, i need to figure out how I’m going to act around Jensen tomorrow, i never thought that i’d be forced to talk to him, let alone go on a date with him (though it wasn't technically a date, I don’t want to admit that just yet).

"Gen... can we do it next week or something? I'm sorry, i'm just not really in the headspace right now." I’ve always been the 'designated driver' because i don’t enjoy drinking, but i need a clear mind for that, which i do not have whatsoever at the moment. Gen frowns at me and closes the apartment door behind her. 

"What's up? What's bothering you?"

"Nothing, just not in the mood to go to a bar." Especially when we’ll be surrounded by so many people who won't give me any space. Bars and clubs are always loud music and constantly moving bodies, it didn't give me any room to think by myself, because God knows any man will hit on me so fast it makes my head spin.

"Come on," Gen insists, tugging on my shirt, "i'm you friend, i know when something is wrong, talk to me.”

I want to, even almost letting it slip before i hear another knock which only confirms that it is, in fact, too late to go back on my word now. At least i won't be the only designated driver, they said they're bringing one of the boys with them, one of their husbands.

"Hey, Lils!" Alona, Adrianna and Melissa make their way through her door, all holding something in their hands, bottles of wine, speakers, chocolates. You'd think they were camping out somewhere, but no, they're just getting ready for a night out. Apparently their husbands are outside because 20 minutes later all of us are ready and in our respective cars.

The boys drop us off and say they'll be back in a few hours so we start ordering drinks and I quickly notice Rachel's absence, excusing myself out to call her.

"Hey babe, where are you?" She says as soon as the line connects.

"Laila," she sounds out of breath, like it's killing her to speak, "i can't... car crash, Laila call him." 

I can hear the police sirens but more than that i feel the sirens vibrate in my throat, flashing colors and sounds and it's driving me crazy, i don’t notice the tears rushing down my cheeks until they land on my phone’s screen while I frantically looks for Rachel’s husband’s contact— Jack.

"Hello?" I stumble, moving further away from the bar and what was a few tears is now a river flowing of them, "Jack please, it's Rachel."

"Rachel? Rachel Sheppard? Laila, are you okay, what happened?" 

"I— I don't know, i called and she's in a car crash and please come here, please we need to go i don't have a car and i'm somewhere—"

"Where laila? Where the hell are you?"

"Bar, Benson's, please come."

"On my way." I don’t hear more after that, just slide down the wall and try to call Rachel again, and again, and again. 

And again.

+

"Hey hey, Laila, wake up, you okay?" I don't want to wake up, i'm actually kind of scared to wake up and see that everything i just made up in my head was real. "Laila, where's Rachel? Answer me!"

I do open my eyes reluctantly and notice i'm still in the same spot which means i did, in fact, not imagine this. I look up at his crouching figure, then I see those green eyes staring back at me, "Jensen?" 

"Yes, you called me, where's Rachel, Laila?" I called him? That's not true, I called Jack.

"I don't know, she's in the hospital, ask Jack, he's her emergency contact." He sighs, placing his hands on my waist to carry me up so i'm standing. 

"I called jack on the way here, said he'll figure it out. Let's get you home."

"No, i— there's the girls in the bar and Jared was my ride—"

"Scott and the rest are on their way, don't worry. Jared will want go home with Gen, just get in and i'll drive you home." I nod once and basically lean onto him the whole way back to the car. I've always been a mess whenever anything even slightly challenges me emotionally so his hands on my waist and him basically carrying me to his passengers seat isn't my first rodeo.

In fact, I have, on more than one occasion, fainted just because it was too hot in a room, or because I haven't eaten for a few hours. Or because i thought i failed a test. I don't do well with feelings.

It's a ten minute drive to my house but it feels like so much longer. The only sounds are my erratic breathing and the soft 'cigarettes after sex' songs playing.

"I'm sorry." I mumble after a few minutes of silence. This sucks. Now that i can see clearly again and my head isn't so plagued with emotion, i'm embarrassed. I'm sure rachel is fine, which means i was a mess for nothing.

"What for, sweetheart? You're fine, don't worry."

"I didn't even mean to call you," it's low, but i'm sure he can hear me, "i was trying to call Jack but i pressed your name and i'm sorry, i didn't mean to get you all the way here for literally no reason."

"Making sure you're okay is more than enough reason for me." His thick texan accent that often only came when he was playing his character made me feel a little warm, kind of made me happy to know he's relaxing this much around me even though i've been nothing but a complete bitch to him. Which is yet another thing i need to apologize for.

"And i'm sorry that—"

"Hey," he says sternly, looking at me for a second before his eyes are back on the road, "stop it, don't apologize, everything's fine. Go home, get some rest and think about everything. Take a few days off."

And I know he's unofficially cancelling tomorrow's plans, which makes me let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, yeah, thank you, Jensen." He nods and raises the volume a little. I have no idea where he got this song from, it is so unlike him.

part four

tags : @kr804573

I redid the first two chapters incase there’s any inconsistencies + cause I had them in third person so yay!

[bingham23]

*Narratives and Rhetoric*

Throughout this essay, I will evaluate how Dr. King used ethos, pathos, and logos to establish a sense of community and show the influence he had on people while using strategic communication from his historic “I Have a Dream” speech. The artifact that I am using is a direct quote from King's speech where he uses rhetorical strategies such as repetition and symbolism through the use of the words “love” and “hatred.” He makes a connection between these two words and how they negatively and or positively affect our society. This artifact has a direct effect and correlation to his influence, credibility, and logic as a public figure and speaker.

It is important to start with some background because this was delivered at a much different time and it is crucial to know the date, setting, and other facts surrounding this speech. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech, was delivered on August 28, 1963. It was a pivotal moment in American history and the Civil Rights Movement. King delivered this speech during the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom. His speech emphasized racial equality, justice, and unity. This inspired thousands of people and left a long-lasting impact on the nation. Dr. King gained a lot of popularity for standing up for his thoughts and ideology during the civil rights movement. When Dr. King spoke, you could feel a sense of community, inspiring people to stand up for what they believe and show their worth, liberties, and freedoms.

Dr. King wouldn’t be able to give such a historical speech without the study of public speeches. The history of public speech has been around for many centuries. It is said to have begun roughly 2,500 years ago during the time of the ancient Greeks. That is a pretty long time. A lot has changed since then and people have become very good with persuasion and other strategic communication tactics. “In a free society, it is persuasion that decides rules, determines behavior, and acts as the governing agent in human physical and mental activities. In every free society, individuals are continuously attempting to change the thoughts and/or actions of others. It is a fundamental concept of a free society” (Ridgewater 1). Digging into this quote, it is easy to see how your credibility, emotion, and logistics (ethos, pathos, and logos) all contribute a lot to the fundamentals of being a public speaker. Being a good public speaker is important because for one you are trying to persuade, appease, or tell the audience something that they want to hear. This is where pathos is present because you want them to feel the emotion. Second, you always want to know what you are talking about in whatever scenario the speech is being held. This is where ethos is present because ethos deals with the credibility of one. And lastly, you want to be logical. Logic or logos, is important because you want to sound trustworthy and you stand out to an audience when you sound educated. Now that ethos, pathos, and logos are thoroughly explained, we’ll examine how Dr. King uses these rhetorical devices to start a movement and break down the artifact that was chosen.

To begin, Dr. King establishes ethos in his speech early on when he talks about the Declaration of Independence and other historical documents which are authoritative because our country was built off of those beliefs and ideas that were written down. This gives him a sense of credibility because he knows his rights and liberties. Establishing that is good for the speaker and the audience because the more credible one sounds, the more people tend to listen, as I mentioned earlier. He seems to have established himself as the face of the civil rights movement because of all of his speeches that have created movements and peaceful protests. The popularity he gained off of his likeness and image shows his true character and his credibility as a speaker.

Next, Dr. King is seen using a lot of pathos throughout his speech, and will explain how it ties into my artifact. To evoke emotions, King utilizes strong, emotive words and phrases throughout his discourse. For instance, when he states, "I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character," he appeals to the audience's sense of justice and fairness. This was a great example of appealing to your audience because you want them to feel what is coming out of your mouth on a personal level. “The news text consists of three parts: introduction, main part, and conclusion, while in the vein of elocution, the constructions reflect the appeal to pathos” (Talavaria 2). This quote came from a journalist who wrote about Ukraine President Zelensky's speech to his country. Talavaria stated how the president started his introduction of his speech with pathos. She also states he did it because of “basic needs for belongingness and security and depicting feelings of pity and support” (Talavaria 2). This goes to show how the start of your speech can change the tide of your whole speech. Starting with pathos as King did, helped guide and persuade the audience to personally connect with the things he was saying about society.

Lastly, Dr. King used a lot of logos throughout his speech. He talked a lot about historical events and how they have impacted society. He appeals to the audience's sense of history and legality and he emphasizes the injustice of segregation. He primarily targeted how African Americans have fallen victim to discrimination, especially in the education, housing, and unemployment fields. These are all examples that he highlighted that tie in with economic disparity, which he brought up multiple times throughout the speech. By doing this, he builds a sense of community within the speech because the audience is going through the same struggles he is going through.

After observing how Dr. King used ethos, pathos, and logos in his speech, let us turn to the artifact and the significance the quote has. “Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it. Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it” (I Have a Dream- MLK). This quote holds a lot of under-the-surface ideology. He emphasizes how hatred and love are complete opposites and how each word holds so many different meanings. Dr. King was well known for his inclusion and willingness to unite people. Love was a word he tossed out into the audience a lot because, at the end of the day, love is what eliminates hatred. Within their quote, there is a lot of pathos which appeals to our emotions. Hatred and love are both emotions and each has different tolls on your body. The way Dr. King uses this quote is rhetorical for a few reasons. One is symbolism. If we observe closely we can even associate the word hatred with white people and love with African Americans. It is a hidden message because in the first line if you look at it like “White people paralyzed African Americans” and so on. Dr. King uses symbolism here to show that the way his people are getting treated by these white people is unacceptable and that “hatred darkens life,” which it did for them back then. Looking at it that way brings you into a whole new perspective because you would have to think to unbox what he is truly trying to say without saying it aloud. Another one would be repetition. Using love and hatred multiple times focuses the audience in on words that are said multiple times. It is a rhetorical strategy to get your point across by using certain words that the audience can connect with. This quote holds a lot of meaning also because you can see through his pathos here. It is not in any way a happy quote and it is easy to tell through the words he uses. He did that on purpose. He is feeling that way so he wants his audience to acquire that feeling too.

Work Cited

MVIIIS1: History of Public Speaking. (n.d.). Introtocommopensource.ridgewater.edu. http://introtocommopensource.ridgewater.edu/ModuleVIII/ModVIIISect1.html ‌Talavira, N. (2022). ОПОСЕРЕДКОВАНЕ ПЕРЕКОНАННЯ ПРИ ВИСВІТЛЕННІ ПУБЛІЧНОГО ВИСТУПУ У НОВИНАХ: ЕТОС, ПАФОС ЧИ ЛОГОС? Bulletin of Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv. Literary Studies. Linguistics. Folklore Studies, 1(31), 81–84. https://philology-journal.com/index.php/journal/article/view/64

Henton, L. (2022, January 15). What Martin Luther King Jr. Said About Systemic Racism. Texas A&M Today. https://today.tamu.edu/2022/01/15/what-martin-luther-king-jr-said-about-systemic-racism/