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prettyboykatsuki Ā· 2 years ago
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HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO
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āŠ¹ general tags ; fem + afab!reader, reader presents femininely and has some specific character traits (i.e. personality traits, nothing physical), reader is shorter / smaller than gojo but nothing specified, reader is a teacher, gojo carries reader at some point (but he is canonly able to do very insane things physically so)
āŠ¹ content warnings ; dead dove. do not eat, yandere gojo satoru, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, workplace harassment (not from gojo), victim blaming, canon typical violence, graphic depictions of murder, minor character death, excessive religious imagery, coercion, gaslighting, abuse of power, something akin to stockholm syndrome, graphic depiction of noncon / sexual content, forced intimacy, fingering, hickies / bruises, begging, edging, loss of virginity, size kink, 18+.
all sexual content present in part two.
āŠ¹ wc ; 17.3k / 36.1k
link to extended authors note | ao3 | how to be a dog, by andrew kane.
LINK TO PART TWO
āŠ¹ a/n ; well. its here. i wont ramble too much but i hope you enjoy and if you dont...well don't tell me. thank you to ame for your endless patience. likes and reblogs mean the world. the title is inspired by the poem linked.
āŠ¹ synopsis ; with six eyes to see it becomes clear, you are being watched.
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ā€œOf course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love.ā€ - andrew kane, how to be a dog.
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āŠ¹ PART ONE : A CHILD BORN IN WINTER MUST NOT LONG FOR SPRING.
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Thereā€™s a dog living outside of Gojoā€™s apartment. Itā€™s a collarless, lonely thing. Clever, too.Ā 
Though, Gojo doesnā€™t know much about its life before it started hanging around the area, he gets glances on occasion. Itā€™s not emaciated and it doesnā€™t look hungry, but itā€™s roughened up with matted fur and a healed tear in one ear.Ā 
More importantly, it doesnā€™t bother anybody in the neighborhood. Despite its outward appearance and hostility when approached, its aggression wonā€™t go farther than a warning bark or growl. Most of the adults living in the building know better than to try, but some of the kids living upstairs desperately attempt to befriend it. Of course they fail, and Gojo thinks that that poor thing is growing apathetic to the touches of sticky hands.Ā 
The whole building is pretty fond of it, surprisingly. Gojo lives in a upend complex in a metropolitan part of Tokyo and the people here can be snobbish. So it comes as a shock that this dog wasnā€™t shooed away months ago.Ā 
Everyones sort of agreed to take care of it. Thereā€™s a food and water bowl outside of the security office - and just last week a sign was implemented of Doā€™s and Donā€™ts for what food scraps can be left. Thereā€™s a donation box to get some proper shots and paperwork - since it looks like the building's doorman has agreed to take it in if everyone chips in for the expenses.
(Gojo suspects this has something to do with those very kids, devastated by the thought of it being gone.)
Warm welcomes from the residents aside, Gojo hasnā€™t seen it act friendly before. He wonders about that.Ā  It seems hesitant to trust anyone and heā€™s sure there's a good reason. Itā€™s just that it's clever. To be a stray in this area of Tokyo and be so calm is an impressive feat, so he thinks it probably has some grasp of his own situation. If it acted cuter, it could get a warm house and family too. Though the whole aloof and distant thing does the job just fine, Gojo canā€™t help but wonder what such a clever creature is doing, turning away from living lavishly.Ā 
Much like everyone else, Gojoā€™s contributions have come in the form of food scraps and some donation money to work towards the 5,000 yen goal. On the occasion their paths cross, Gojo sits near it. Sometimes, they share a moment of silence and Gojo talks just to see if itā€™ll ignore him. It seems like itā€™s listening. It always makes a grunt of dismissal when Gojo turns to leave and heā€™s started to count that as a little victory.Ā 
Gojo isnā€™t intrigued by anything as much as that dog. At least not lately. Itā€™s damn near impossible to seriously pique his interest and yet that clever fellow is one of the few things he stops to ponder at.Ā 
Today, Gojo is intrigued by the dog that lives on the street of his apartment and the strange woman whoā€™s petting it like some sort of domesticated baby.
Heā€™s very, very intrigued by that.Ā 
The rain comes down in heavy sheets. Itā€™s a Wednesday, and he has no classes to teach so heā€™s home and preparing to run errands. Heā€™s going about his day as usual, basically. When Gojo isnā€™t swamped with a mission or the reformation of Jujutsu Society - he likes to play the part of the average man.Ā 
The plan for today was to take his unused car out of the lot so he could get some dry-cleaning done, go buy a new pair of sunglasses because his old ones are scratched, and go do some shopping. He needs to buy groceries again ( an uncommon occurrence) so that one's on the list too.Ā 
Heā€™s dressed down. A black windbreaker is hanging over his shoulders, tight gray shirt and some comfortable jeans. Heā€™s got on his errand shoes, a nice pair of sneakers and his keys are hanging from a loop in his belt. His hair is styled down and heā€™s got on his glasses instead of his typical mask.
He has a gameplan, a fully fleshed out expectation of how today will go, and itā€™s derailed by a woman heā€™s never seen before. Heā€™s drawn to you so naturally itā€™s baffling.Ā 
Youā€™re crouched just in front of the security office. Dressed in a loose skirt and long sleeves, looking down by the local neighborhood stray. For the first few seconds, he just lingers on in utter awe. Youā€™re carrying a comically cute umbrella, clear with flowers and a pink edge. He kind of thinks you look like a peony.Ā 
He approaches slowly, quietly.Ā 
When he finally gets close enough to really see, he can hardly believe his eyes. That old, menacing mutt is happily getting his chin scratched by you.Ā 
ā€œOh, uhm. Hello?ā€Ā 
The sound of your voice startles him out of his trance. Snapping back to reality, he glances down to where you are and realizes heā€™s towering over you. In an effort to be polite, he steps back and gives you his most disarming smile.Ā 
ā€œHi. Sorry for the intrusion, I was just,ā€ He glances at the dog who almost looks offended at the interruption ā€œI noticed you wereā€¦ petting this dog. Guess I was a little surprised.ā€Ā 
ā€œSurprised?ā€Ā 
And your surprise surprises him even more. He blinks slowly.Ā 
ā€œYeah. Heā€™s not aggressive or anything but uh,ā€ Gojo chuckles, concluding you must be a little new ā€œWell, heā€™s not exactly friendly. I donā€™t think Iā€™ve ever seen anyone succeed in wellā€¦petting him.ā€Ā 
Youā€™re taken aback by this information. Yeah, definitely new.Ā 
ā€œReally?ā€ You glance at Gojo before looking back down at it ā€œI just gave him some treats and waited a bit. Heā€™s such a sweetie. Sure you mean this dog?ā€Ā 
Gojo gets a good laugh out of that. Partially at your cluelessness and partially at your disbelief. He nods, smiling a little.Ā 
ā€œIā€™m very sure, actually. He must really like you,ā€ He says, hands in his pockets. He bends down to join you, but heā€™s still a little bigger than you at that height ā€œI guess I can see why. Youā€™re pretty friendly.ā€Ā 
You peek over at him. You seem a little shy at the compliment. Gojo feels his interest pique a second time today alone. New record.Ā 
ā€œOh, uh. Thank you. I teach kindergarteners so I sort of have to be.ā€Ā 
He hums. Reaching his hand towards the dog, who sniffs and cuddles his palm (something itā€™s never done before) in order to win your favor more. It really is a clever little thing, just like heā€™d always suspected.
ā€œIā€™m a teacher too. A highschool teacher, though. No need for me to be friendly, I guess.ā€Ā 
You laugh at his joke, smile reaching your eyes as you hug your knees to look at him.
ā€œYou seem plenty friendly to me.ā€Ā 
He pretends to think about it.Ā 
ā€œMaybe you have a gift for making people come out of their shell,ā€ He says with sincerity, relishing in the fact heā€™s finally getting to pet the dog in any capacity ā€œI think this little guy could probably attest to that.ā€
ā€œAnd you have a knack for flattery.ā€ You quip.Ā 
The natural chemistry is noticeable enough for it to catch Gojo off-guard. He grins.Ā 
ā€œHey. Iā€™m not all bad. And what's flattery if Iā€™m being honest right?ā€Ā 
ā€œSounds like something a flirt would say,ā€ You tease, airy. He laughs a little.Ā 
ā€œYou seem like youā€™re having fun giving me a hard-time.ā€ He pouts. You giggle.Ā 
ā€œA little,ā€Ā 
ā€œJeez. How rude of youā€¦ā€ He waits, prompting your name. You smile.Ā 
You give him your name. You say it soft and easy. He makes sure to return to the favor.Ā 
ā€œAnd yours?ā€Ā 
ā€œGojo Satoru.ā€Ā 
__
You live up to your first impression in the time that Gojo gets to know you as his neighbor.Ā 
Friendly. The word heā€™s looking for is friendly.Ā 
Thereā€™s other words though. Sometimes meek, typically cheery, oftentimes quiet. Youā€™re quite unassuming, and possibly too gentle when compared to everyone else in the general area. You fit in fine, no worries there. And Gojo knows that for certain because he canā€™t stop himself from watching over you like a hawk.Ā 
He doesnā€™t really understand it himself. Gojo gets along with everyone. Heā€™s always been a people person who likes to talk and likes to get to know strangers. Thereā€™s nothing that special about your connection in that way. You live next to him, directly across the hall.ļæ½ļæ½ You often knock on his door to give him something that youā€™ve made too much of or ask to borrow some sugarĀ 
And itā€™s not done with any romantic intent. Gojo is good at reading people. Heā€™s never seen someone so blatantly Ā romantically uninterested in him. Youā€™re not even conscious of him as a man, cemented to himĀ  by the one time you came to the door dressed in paper-thin PJā€™s. He hasnā€™t recovered from the shock. One of the many times in his life where he was grateful no one could see where he was looking.Ā 
Heā€™s had a few months since your first meeting to get an idea of your personality and what things about you he should keep in mind. You noticed that heā€™s often not in his house, so youā€™re relatively aware of your surroundings. Youā€™re often up late because your lights are always on well into the evening.Ā 
(He finds out later youā€™re usually making lesson plans or little gift bags or planning birthdays. You really love your job, something he can commend while simultaneouslyĀ  feeling quite jealous about.)Ā 
You favor the lovely spring colors like pink and purple because you have so much of it always on you. You dress brightly in general. And you smile, often, and stumble over yourself trying to be nice to the other tenants. The kids in the building adore you. The sheer amount of propositions youā€™ve received to be someone's full-time nanny could probably keep you employed for another two decades.Ā 
And you always put your best into everything, no matter what.Ā 
This is probably the aspect Gojo is most fascinated by. Itā€™s not exactly a novel trait. Heā€™s encountered something like it before. One of his most prized students is Maki Zenin. Her whole thing is kicking ass through sheer spite.Ā 
But unlike his students or anyone else he knows - you donā€™t seem to be motivated by spite or anger or frustration. Even when you are angry or upset - you always force yourself into being more understanding. Into being nice, kind, and still giving it your best if youā€™ve been shorted somehow. Heā€™s tempted to call you a try-hard. It draws on the line of people pleasing sometimes but it doesnā€™t matter either way. This is a quality in you Gojo likes all the same.Ā 
He's always been drawn to people who are earnest. His company favors such things. He cherishes Yuuji for such a reason, and can say something similar for Nanami. Itā€™s a refreshing perspective. Heā€™s not a bitter person, but heā€™s not an earnest one either. So Gojo likes that youā€™re so properly, gently sincere.Ā 
For the last few months heā€™s made a real effort to talk to you. So heā€™s not just the guy next door, but at least an acquaintance and at best a distant friend. On the mornings you both have classes to teach, he walks you to your car and if he wakes up before you - heā€™ll bring you a cup of coffee or a pastry he knows you enjoy.Ā Ā 
Youā€™ll often do Gojo little favors and heā€™ll return them - joking to each other about being a good neighbor. An inside joke with each other that Gojo is growing increasingly fond of, all together with leftover cups of coffee and glances that linger too long. Some mornings, he takes out your trash when youā€™re feeling too tired and youā€™ll do him the favor of getting the stuff out of his clothes that he doesnā€™t want to dry-clean.Ā 
Itā€™s these little exchanges that make up the bulk of your interactions.Ā 
Heā€™s even been to your apartment (another reason heā€™s sure youā€™re not attracted to him). He went last week to help you cut out little autumn leaves to put on your classroom walls, and you rewarded him with some lemonade.Ā 
Heā€™s still thinking about it days later, how you sit on your legs and the way your cardigan hangs off your shoulder. When youā€™re focused, you leave your mouth open a bit and poke your tongue through your lips. Heā€™s endeared by it.Ā 
Ā By you in general.
Itā€™s all boring and mundane, but thatā€™s what makes it. Itā€™s a luxury he rarely affords. Craves, really, which is why heā€™s starting to go straight home more often than not.
Itā€™s nice that youā€™re always there. That youā€™re usually home and when youā€™re not - Gojo doesnā€™t have to guess too hard about where you are. Itā€™s so constant. He basks in the feeling of constancy like an expensive silk.Ā 
Itā€™s little luxuries like that, he thinks, that make you so special to Gojo without much effort on your behalf. Being up at the top means he is always fascinated by the place closest to the ground.Ā 
Whatā€™s heaven to a man born there?
__Ā 
In your fourth official month of residence, the neighborhood dog finally gets adopted.Ā 
Heā€™s not there for the big reveal. He hears it from you while heā€™s on a mission, through a text message and a photo. He acquired your number early on, but youā€™ve only started doing these text exchanges recently. Reason being Gojoā€™s had an unusual amount of cases that need his attention and youā€™ve been very aware of his absence.Ā Ā 
(The first time you texted Gojo after 3 days on the other side of the country, he was scarily happy. After all, most times when he leaves - people are expecting his return.Ā  Thereā€™s an assurance that he will return alive, that he has to. Itā€™s not often people worry.
It was another thing he learns about himself through you. Being fussed about is refreshing.)Ā 
Currently, heā€™s all the way down in Nagasaki. Heā€™s been investigating what the local government has described as an ā€œinfestation in the water,ā€ leading to poison and all sorts of hallucination. Itā€™s been causing all of the local hospitals to fill up and the news is advising people to distill their water if possible when at home. Make sure to buy bottled, and double check on your children.Ā 
In other words, thereā€™s an unidentified curse wreaking havoc in small towns and rural areas at an unusually fast rate and Gojo has been sent to figure out its origin. Whatā€™s really weird is the location. Heā€™s in Nagasaki prefecture, specifically in Hasami - a town in the Higashisonogo district. He really didnā€™t have much time to do research on the area, save for a few quick google searches and probing questions to his student, the well traveled Yuta Okkutsu who is a hair more familiar with the region than he is.Ā 
But there wasnā€™t much for him to find. Hasami is known for the porcelain it produces. The population is a little under 15,000 and the weather is nicer in spring than it is in summer where it gets too humid. Itā€™s considered a small town, though that number is relative in consideration, and currently the local officials are sending off reports about the water supply.Ā 
Even when doing deep research using official means, there was nothing that unusual about the place. No major criminal incidents or occult presence or some other thing that would make this occur naturally. Gojo is no stranger to small town violence or bullying and they can often produce the most volatile curses.
But heā€™s currently on his 3rd day here, where heā€™s taken up talking with the locals and he canā€™t find any specific attitude that would foster a special grade.Ā 
It had led him to a conclusion,Ā  but one he was deliberately avoiding. That someone planted the curse here in Nagasaki, or maybe somewhere else. Which really complicates the whole affair, because then this is an investigation and not just a situation of fate. It also means that this curse was likely harvested somewhere and that Gojo canā€™t be sure itā€™ll be easy to get rid of.Ā 
Most importantly, all that fanfare means heā€™ll be home late.Ā 
Given how much heā€™s longing to see you, itā€™s the thing heā€™s been dreading most.Ā 
Itā€™s weird. Heā€™s never dying to see anyone, with the exception of an old friend long gone. But Gojo has been desperate to see you for the few weeks heā€™s been away from home.Ā 
(He canā€™t tell if itā€™s normal to long this much for a person he truthfully doesnā€™t know that well.)Ā 
But, while heā€™s away from home, the thoughts of you play on loop in his head. Like white noise, static yet constant -Ā  there, all the same.Ā  As he walks the rainy streets of Hasami, hands in his pockets - he canā€™t help but wonder when the next time he gets to see you will be
Itā€™s like some sort of miracle (arenā€™t you always one?) when Gojo hears his phone ring, buzzing against his abdomen.Ā 
Heā€™s drawn back into reality when he feels it. In front of a store that sells handmade plates and glasses, he lets it go for a while. Feels it buzz against his pocket while he settles his thoughts. He examines his surroundings,Ā  notices the cars, and the mother with her daughter across the street and the gray sky - all before he picks it up. Your name flashes him on screen, and something itches deep in his chest.
The clouds open up. And itā€™s still raining, but thereā€™s a ray of sunlight cutting through them. For a minute Gojo feels worldly, grinning with damp skin before he slides his thumb across the phone.Ā 
Youā€™ve never called him before.Ā 
ā€œHello?ā€ He greets, wondering if it was an accident. Then you come through the other side of the line.
ā€œHi ~,ā€ You say, clearly doing something in the midst of talking ā€œHowā€™ve you been?ā€Ā 
ā€œIā€™ve been alright. Very shocked you called me, yanno?ā€
You laugh quietly.Ā 
ā€œSorry about that. I just wanted to check in. And I wanted to say thank you.ā€Ā 
ā€œI meanā€¦ Iā€™ll accept but I feel like I should know what for.ā€ He jokes. Your tone goes sincere, marshmallow soft and twice as sweet.Ā 
ā€œYou paid the rest of the fees for the dog out of pocket, didnā€™t you?ā€Ā 
He smiles to himself.
ā€œAh. Busted. That was supposed to be a secret between me and Mr. Security-Man,ā€Ā 
ā€œHe didnā€™t tell me. I justā€¦guessed. Seems like something youā€™d do.ā€Ā 
His first instinct is to disagree.
ā€œItā€™s not like I did it out of the goodness of my heart, okay? It was looking a little sad sleeping during the cold seasons. It was very pitiful. So bad, so sad.ā€Ā 
ā€œWhyā€™d you do it?ā€ You ask, probing but not too deeply ā€œLikeā€¦ really. It was really nice of you, but it was a couple thousand and that canā€™t be cheap.ā€
He relents, head leaning back on the wall behind him.Ā 
ā€œThe kids, remember?ā€ He murmurs, eyes staring up at the gray clouds ā€œYou said theyā€™d be sad if the dog didnā€™t get adopted soon.ā€Ā 
ā€œThe way youā€™re talking about it makes it seem like youā€™re doing this for me.ā€Ā 
ā€œAnd if I was? Would that bother you, hm?ā€Ā 
You wait a minute, hesitating with your words.Ā 
ā€œWellā€¦no. I guess not, I justā€”thank you. I guess Iā€™m just a littleā€¦ embarrassed about it or whatever.ā€Ā 
ā€œShy, huh? Cute.ā€
ā€œJeez,ā€ You huff. Gojo can practically hear your grinning from the other side; it makes his heart flutter. He wants to go home, to wherever you are ā€œAnd you always say youā€™re no flirt.ā€Ā 
ā€œIā€™m not a flirt. Iā€™m just telling it how it is.ā€Ā 
ā€œYeah? Well, thanks anyway then. It made them really happy. You shouldā€™ve been there to see it. Maybe you can tell them when you get back?ā€Ā 
ā€œDonā€™t wanna.ā€ He states outright.Ā 
ā€œYou didnā€™t even think about it!ā€ You exclaim.
ā€œMm, because I donā€™t have to. I definitely donā€™t want them to know.ā€Ā 
ā€œWhy not, though? Youā€™d be their hero, yā€™know?Ā 
Maybe itā€™s something in the air. The damp weather out closer to the ocean, or the distance between you. Thereā€™s a tiny echo in your words, mechanical through the speakers. The word hero leaves a melancholy in his mouth, floating in the back of his throat like liquor refusing to go down. He chuckles.Ā 
ā€œOoo, are you into that kinda thing? Like, super charming knights in shining armor? Or superheroes, maybe?ā€Ā 
You giggle on the other side of the line. If you notice him avoiding answering you, you have the courtesy not to say anything.
ā€œIsnā€™t everyone? I donā€™t know. I think if a really good-looking guy saved my life, itā€™d probably make my heart race a little, yeah. Iā€™d catch feelings over that for sure.ā€Ā 
He takes a deep breath. Everything smells like rain.Ā 
ā€œIs that so?ā€ He says, chest blooming with warmth ā€œIā€™ll keep that in mind.ā€Ā 
__
Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed.Ā 
He was out there for a long time, at least longer than usual when heā€™s traveling for a mission. Heā€™s not used to hitting so many dead ends. The problem kept growing, but every trail heā€™d uncovered went cold in about a day. Just before he gave up hope, he was called in by Yagi. Since the issue has spread into other parts of the city, itā€™s no longer his solo jurisdiction.Ā 
More hands on meant more time for Gojo to be teaching. It also meant that he would finally see you after so long. You waited for him outside the day he returned to Tokyo - wearing a cream colored sweater and the prettiest smile Gojo had ever laid eyes on.Ā 
Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed but itā€™s not entirely pointless. Upon returning - he had a somewhat shallow epiphany about the way you make him feel. About the way heā€™s affected by you, which is arguably more valuable than some lead.
Being away from you for so long is something that makes him so irritable. Heā€™s had some time between then and now to come into terms with it.Ā 
Falling back into his routine, it was obvious. Suddenly there was a gap heā€™d never noticed before that blew wide enough for him to fall through. He actively avoids not seeing you if he can, and ever since your permissive conversation a few weeks ago - itā€™s harder to notice the way his desires fester.Ā 
Thereā€™s not much he wants out of his life. So when anything noteworthy pops up, Gojo is always eager to get a hold of it before itā€™s too late.Ā 
He usually soothes that by reminding himself of your position as a civilian, a kindergarten teacher at that. The responsible thing to do is make sure youā€™re safe. To play the hero from the sidelines and ensure you donā€™t encounter anything from his line of work. Thatā€™s his whole life's work. To create a life like that, and it helps to stay on that path when he believes youā€™re sheltered from that reality.Ā 
Thatā€™s why, when you tell Gojo you can see curses, he feels the entire floor collapse from underneath his feet.Ā 
He receives such devastating news over a cup of coffee at that.
Itā€™s closing in to Fall slowly and Gojo has decided to take you out to eat as an apology for his disappearance. He intended to give you another half-truth about his job so you wouldnā€™t lose any sleep over him.Ā 
When it happens, itā€™s less that you tell him, and more that you keep glancing. Just over his shoulder, with this terrified expression that Gojo couldnā€™t not notice, even if he tried.Ā 
Youā€™ve got your hands around a warm drink, in a white, ceramic mug but your gaze keeps diverting to the place behind him. When he looks over to that same place, a curse is there. Small. More insignificant than a bug, but there.Ā 
Itā€™s risky to mention it. Because if Gojo is wrong, itā€™s not something he can brush off. Heā€™d have to come up with something to excuse himself, and he isnā€™t sure how to lie out of that (even with his natural disposition of being a trickster.) But when you keep looking, his instinct kicks in. Thereā€™s no way you arenā€™t seeing it.Ā 
He doesnā€™t ask you directly. Thatā€™d be too incriminating, so he lowers his tone. Watches you briefly as you tremble in fear.Ā 
(A small, smallĀ  part of him is only asking because he doesnā€™t like how distracted you are from him. Killing the curse seems like itā€™d relieve that annoyance too.)
ā€œCan you see itā€¦?ā€Ā 
The question makes you jump out of your skin. You reel back, eyes widened before the realization really sets in.Ā 
ā€œ....It?ā€Ā 
Gojo looks around the cafe for a minute, to make sure no one is listening before he turns around and points to the cursed spirit behind him.Ā 
ā€œIt,ā€ He says, thumb pointed at the deformed curse moaning in one of the booths.Ā 
When it dawns on you that Gojo sees what you see, you cup a hand over your mouth in shock. He canā€™t describe the way getting that confirmation feels. It raises so many questions about who you are. More than he had before, at least.Ā 
No longer are you the innocent, clueless civilian and that changes every interaction heā€™s had with you since the start. Though itā€™s not uncommon for people who can see curses to fall through the cracks, he can feel his own curiosity dig into his skin like seeds taking root. He doesnā€™t think he should be excited, but he is.Ā 
Heā€™s excited watching your fearful tremble. Heā€™s never seen you like that.
ā€œYes,ā€ You say, voice a little shaky this time ā€œI can seeā€¦ it.ā€Ā 
He takes the spoon out of his latte and cleans it with his mouth. Studying your expression momentarily, he takes a deep breath before standing to his feet. The terror is so subtle, the kind he can only catch because heā€™s so familiar.. He knows those emotions better than he knows most.Ā 
Curses arenā€™t phobias. Not illusions or ghosts, but tangible madness. Impactful to those who can see it, but nothing to those who canā€™t. Fear like that, which canā€™t be shared with anyone, has a specific look when it shows up in someone. Gojo hasnā€™t felt that fear since he was very, very little. He watches curses with the same bland expression he might watch a horror movie, but he can understand your reaction at least.Ā  He knows it like the back of his hand. All the people heā€™s saved, who could see them too, always wore the same one.Ā 
Still, heā€™s caught off guard. He feels bad that youā€™re scared. But the proximity between you and him which was once oceans wide has decreased significantly in no time at all. That feels good. Even better than he wouldā€™ve imagined.Ā 
ā€œAre you scared?ā€ He questions intently, maintaining a sense of neutrality.
You swallow a lump in your throat, eyes glued to the table in front of you.
ā€œYes,ā€Ā 
Your voice is a hoarse whisper. The corners of his lips twitch upward.Ā 
When heā€™s sure no one is looking, he stands up and walks over to the table behind him. Pretending to look for something so he doesnā€™t look out of place. It doesnā€™t take more than a second to destroy it. Itā€™s tiny, something heā€™d never think of fighting since itā€™s so harmless. The curse equivalent to a fly.Ā 
He gives it a violent death and sees you look on with horror in your expression. He finds himself pleased with that, wiping his hands on his pants before returning. Maybe you recognize his strength when he sits back down. Still, instead of pulling away again, you fold your hands in your lap.Ā 
ā€œT-Thank you,ā€
He grins at you.Ā 
ā€œOf course,ā€ He saysĀ  ā€œCan I ask you something?ā€Ā 
You nod your head and sip your tea.Ā 
ā€œDo you know who I am?ā€Ā 
You look confused.
ā€œ...Are you a celebrity?ā€Ā 
He laughs hard at that. Hearing that makes him not want to tell you.Ā 
ā€œIā€™m Gojo Satoru,ā€ He reintroduces. You nod slowly ā€œIā€™m a sorcerer.ā€Ā 
Another lie of omission. The strongest, he should say. He takes a sip of his latte, frowning at the bitterness. Through his mask, he watches as you fiddle with your hands. He stacks the empty creamer cups together before opening two more sugar packets and stirring them.Ā 
ā€œA sorcererā€¦ā€ You look perplexed. Confusion settles into the lines of your face. Sheltered, Gojo concludes. Only parents, who shelter you wouldnā€™t tell you what a sorcerer was despite your ability to see them ā€œWhat does thatā€¦ mean exactly?ā€Ā 
ā€œIt means I kill curses for a livingā€ He replies simply.Ā 
ā€œI thought you were a high school teacher.ā€Ā 
He smiles.Ā 
ā€œSmart cookie. I am, but the school I teach at specializes in cursed technique and sorcery.ā€
ā€œOh.ā€Ā 
You look befuddled.Ā 
Gojo thinks he might be an opportunist.Ā 
ā€œDo you really not know anything about them? Itā€™s rare for people to be able to see them and not know anything about them.ā€
You shake your head, eyes peering into your drink. He watches how the image reflects in your eyes.
ā€œUhm. Not really. My parents told me to do my best to stay away from it. We lived in the countryside but I had to move out into the city for work so I keptā€¦ running into them. I canā€™t likeā€¦ kill them. And I don't always see them.ā€Ā 
ā€œYou canā€™t use cursed techniques?ā€Ā 
ā€œI guess thatā€™s what that is. I donā€™t think I can, no.ā€Ā 
Vulnerable.Ā 
ā€œHmm. What circumstances,ā€ He says, purposeful in weaving concern in his words.Ā 
ā€œIs it that badā€¦?ā€Ā 
Not really. His job and the job of his peers is to make sure civilians make as little contact with curses as possible. There are more people like you, and because curses feed off of negative emotions - many dangers can be shafted by just not reacting. Even so, itā€™s customary for people to have some semblance of protection. A weapon if nothing else, for anyone who can see them.
ā€œDo you carry anything with you?ā€Ā 
ā€œLike a weapon? I have mace for when I take the train late at night.ā€Ā 
ā€œNot that kind of weapon,ā€ He says gracefully. He can tell youā€™re out of your element, and some small and twisted part of him would like to keep you in the fateful dark.
ā€œWhat other kind would there be?ā€Ā 
ā€œThereā€™s a lot you donā€™t know,ā€ He half answers. Your frown deepens. He puts his palm over the top of his coffee cup but doesnā€™t feel any warmth ā€œAw, donā€™t be like that. Iā€™m just teasing. Youā€™re always so calm and collected, I was surprised to see how scared you got, you know?ā€Ā 
ā€œEverybody gets scared sometimes.ā€Ā 
ā€œMm,ā€
His non-committal response leaves you nervous again. Fidgeting with the edge of your cup or the loose threads in the sleeves of your clothes. What a bundle of nerves you are. Gojo puts all the comfort he can in his voice, dredging up some sense of sincerity.
ā€œWell, since it scares you and Iā€™m such a nice guy, Iā€™ll protect you if you get into any trouble.ā€ He says, snapping his fingers and pointing at you.
That makes you relax. Makes your shoulders droop, a smile gracing your pretty face. Gojo can feel the floor underneath him sinking as you tease him. His eyes trace the curve of your neck. Heā€™s glad you canā€™t see him or where they look.Ā 
ā€œOh, what? Are you gonna come running every time I need help?ā€Ā 
He smiles.Ā 
ā€œIā€™ll be your personal Superman.ā€ He promises, making a silly expression trying to make you laugh. It feels good when he succeeds, the weight of his words softened by it. If you feel how heavy the comment is, it doesnā€™t show up on your face.Ā 
You snort, taking a sip of your drink and thereā€™s something so kind in your expression that Gojo aches over.Ā 
ā€œThat right?ā€ You hum, smiling over the edge of your ceramic mug ā€œYouā€™re my hero.ā€
__Ā 
Since then, Gojoā€™s kept quite busy.
The last time he saw you at all was at the diner a few weeks prior and little has been different since then. You send more nervous messages than before, but aside from that things are the same.
Heā€™s done a good job, he thinks. Partly of ensuring you, partly of instilling healthy fear. Your eyes always widen like youā€™re caught off guard by his comments - sometimes washed away with a laugh but other times genuine. Gojo likes to keep you on your toes. AĀ  bit of harmless fun and endlessly amusing.Ā 
Gojo would be there to protect you just like he promised before, so even scaring you isnā€™t something he thinks of as bad. Itā€™s not untrue that you should be a little more vigilant, but just telling you to do so is no easy feat.Ā 
He would like to be spending time with you today just the same as he has before, but heā€™s home alone instead. Thereā€™s been a brief reprieve between cases so heā€™s on his own to unwind. Thereā€™s nothing he wants to do, so he decides on a movie.Ā 
Gojo is the only one of his friends who still has cable TV. According to Shoko itā€™s a luxury purchase but for him itā€™s one less choice he has to make when coming home to relax.
Itā€™s an American film on now, some psycho-killer classic that heā€™s already seen a handful of times with Japanese subtitles.Ā 
None of the lights are turned on, so the TV illuminates the room in flashes of color. He grabs a soda from his steel-gray fridge and cracks it open, listening to the soft fizz that comes to a slow halt. Pulling it to his mouth, he travels slowly back to his couch. The leather squeaks under the weight of his body. The weight of his back creates a divet that he can be comfortable in. He rests his head, glancing back again at the screen.Ā 
A scream rips through the house, agitating his every nerve. He picks up his remote and turns it down just a tad before watching the movie with a sort of disinterest. Horror movies arenā€™t his favorite, admittedly. He pretends he scares easily, but the opposite is true. Gojo has seen too much for it to be entertaining, no less scary.Ā 
He likes movies based on their creative merit. Heā€™ll watch one on its creative merit.Ā 
But to be scared? For frights? Not really. Very little gets his heart pumping hard like that. Sometimes the storytelling is good. Other times thereā€™s something cathartic about the formulaic death. The final girl, the call from inside the house. The dependable and clean ending of tropes. Even if itā€™s messy or sinister, itā€™s fantastical. Fictitious and detached.Ā 
Gojo enjoys that. For anyone else, itā€™s probably a twisted way to think about it but to Gojo it only feels natural. He doesnā€™t examine that detachment very deeply. Heā€™s just aware of it, lingering in the back of his head.Ā 
He takes a long sip of his drink. The sickly sweet taste slowly coats his mouth. Fizzy and smooth, it goes down easily. He sits up in his seat, making himself comfortable as he tries to pay attention to the movie. The main girl is hiding in the bathroom, and the killers' steps are echoing through the house. The broken, somber string instruments in the background, fill the white noise with apprehension and terror.Ā 
Gojo doesnā€™t feel a chill down his spine. His eyes are still fixed on the screen though, with slight anticipation of what's next even though he already knows. Itā€™s nearing the end and heā€™s seen this movie before. Sheā€™s not going to make it, and Gojo knows that.Ā 
He watches intently in spite of that. The door bursts open and thereā€™s a knife in her chest - and screams. Itā€™s horrific and ugly, blood-spattered and graphic.Ā 
He doesnā€™t flinch until the whole way through.
Itā€™s brief, but the thought passes his mind. Lately, the only thing that Gojo seems to react to is you.
But he doesnā€™t think about it too deeply. Thereā€™s no need to.Ā 
The TV goes to commercial and Gojo realizes heā€™s finished his soda. He stands back up, onto his feet to toss the can and grab another. This time, he grabs some snacks too. Piles them onto a plate, dried meats, and something mildly sweet for after before he returns to his living room. Sitting back down on his couch, he scrolls through his phone for anything interesting but comes up short of any results.Ā 
He sits up a little straighter as the next movie plays.Ā 
__
Spending time around curses is a necessary part of the learning experience.
Things you canā€™t learn in all the lessons and tutoring in the entire world. Even though Jujutsu Tech exists, and even given Gojoā€™s lineage - when he started working officially, he didnā€™t know everything. You canā€™t. No matter to what extent you study, thereā€™s some things that you can only gauge through experience. Going through something over and over, like muscle memory.
Gojo spent a lot of his life wanting it to make sense. Wanting curses and the way they showed up to make sense. This is a lesson in truth, divine truth you can only take up in experience. Curses are human emotions, which means that they are finicky and everywhere. And the dangers of them will always look like the aftermath of destruction.Ā 
Sometimes, thereā€™s nothing you can do to prepare for why things happen. Itā€™s why Gojo is always grasping for light where he can find it.Ā 
Gojo Satoru stands in an empty parking lot all the way in Osaka. He examines the sight in front of him and canā€™t find anything heā€™s learned to prepare for what's next.Ā 
Fog has rolled in thick clouds over every inch, limiting his vision. The air tastes of smoke, and the earth underneath him is damp. The wet concrete squeaks under the weight of his shoes as he takes in the surroundings. The parking lot of an animal hospital, in particular - where all the staff were reported to have fallen unconscious. After being rolled out by the proper authorities and after all the animals were moved into a different location - Gojo was left to examine the remnants of the incident.Ā 
The reports are similar all across the country. Not the location. but the symptoms. People falling sick and ill. The initial reports of a water-borne illness didnā€™t progress far past the first city. Itā€™s evolved since then. People get sick, pass out and hallucinate and animals lose all control.Ā 
The aftermath isnā€™t very messy so luckily it doesnā€™t attract too much attention. Thereā€™s no bodies, or blood - nothingĀ  heinous thereafter. The effects appear later in the people affected, taken over by an unnamed madness that appears to turn their internal experience to ruins. Gojo wouldā€™ve preferred the first situation. Violence like that becomes easy to digest with enough exposure.Ā 
These kinds of symptoms are always hard to stomach. Civilians get answers that placate them. The truth is that there's something bigger out there at play and they were just so unlucky to bear witness to the terror. With altered memories and the badge of trauma, what they donā€™t know canā€™t hurt them.Ā 
Gojo knows though, and sometimes he envies their ignorance.
He makes his way into the building. A set of glass doors greets him when he turns the sidewalk, with a blinking sign. Osaka Animal Hospital is written at the top in neon, accompanied by the words 24hr service. Gojo only glances at it briefly before sighing, hands on the bar to push himself through the heavy glass doors. He has to lean some of his weight to get through, and thereā€™s just another set beyond those where he has to do the same.Ā 
Then, heā€™s inside.Ā 
The presence of the curse and of cursed energy ignites familiar caution within him. Itā€™s here, in some capacity - or it was recently. The perpetrator is here too. Why that is, Gojo canā€™t quite understand. It seems a little backwards to linger here after everyones been evacuated and thereā€™s no doubt someone would come to investigate.Ā 
All Gojo can think is that maybe they werenā€™t expecting him. But by now, they must know heā€™s there too. Gojoā€™s presence is intentionally oppressive - by nature it must be. Now itā€™s a waiting game, a quiet one at that.Ā 
Hospitals are always echoey and this one is no different. The squeak of his boots bounces off the walls as he takes steps towards the receptionist desk just to see if heā€™ll find anything.Ā 
He leans over it, to stare at the left over records - untouched by the authorities. Everything looks like it was left in a hurry. Strew pens and a corded phone just barely back in place - with computers on a blue idle screen. All the daily documents are still out sitting on the desk with no organization to indicate theyā€™ve been filtered through. No paper clips or post-its telling the next person working about what to do.Ā 
Instead of walking behind the counter, he climbs over it with relative ease. Once heā€™s behind it, he takes better note of his surroundings. He doesnā€™t find anything completely relevant. Thereā€™s painting of animals, and some certifications for bills of health as well - but nothing that warrants his attention. He redirects through the papers in front of him, coming across a stack unexamined. Those answer sheets they give you to fill out so they can assess the situation before meeting you.Ā 
Theyā€™re split into two piles it looks like, though that could just be some coincidence. Still, he flips through them. Directing his attention to the little comment box with the prompt what are you being seen for?Ā 
Itā€™s nothing serious. Normal things an animal owner would be upset or worried about like bowel movements and eating something that shouldnā€™t have been consumed. A minor injury or a worrisome behavior - but nothing that sticks out. For pages and pages, Gojo flips through the little packets trying to find anything.Ā 
Itā€™s not what he sees, but what he doesnā€™t. A blank packet of papers, with no name for the owner or the pet. Only a description in the prompt box, neat handwriting in a single line.Ā 
ā€œShowing signs of anxiety.ā€Ā 
Gojo smiles to himself. Interesting.Ā 
He jumps back over onto the other side once heā€™s seen it. Itā€™s strange. Why would they go to the lengths of premeditating it like that? Whether itā€™s the curse itself or some third party, itā€™s an unreasonable thing to do.Ā 
ā€œNot like people like this are usually reasonable, but,ā€Ā 
He saves the rest of the thought, sighing. The room has two hallways to go down. Both directions have some lingering cursed energy,Ā  but the hallway leading to the overnight area is much stronger. Itā€™s separated by a big metal door, so Gojo braces himself to go through it.
He walks towards it slowly and through the doors even slower. Itā€™s a long, empty hall. The ceilings are low, white fluorescent lights over his head like a falsified halo. They flicker on and off, with the ones at the very end of the hall having fizzled out completely. Gojo can hear, feel, and see everything. He can hear his own breathing and the artificial cracklingĀ  of electricity. Feel the lingering presence of sickness, the sediments of a curse preparing itself to emerge like a butterfly from a cocoon.Ā 
He peeks into the different rooms of the hallway. One half of the hall is kennels, once again empty and left in the same messy state as the front desk. The other half of the rooms look like surgery rooms, with a storage closet tucked into one corner. The hall comes to an abrupt stop at the end, a painted gray wall with nothing to offer at the end.
But when Gojo is half-way through, he hears it. A heart-beat. A human one, slow and steady like itā€™s not worried at all. Not moving or running, just there. Thump, thump, thump.Ā 
Gojo perks his head up as he walks, leaning over to get a look at every room. Empty, empty, empty.Ā 
Then, in the very last one is a shadowy figure. The sound of the heartbeat is louder and the feeling of cursed energy is so strong itā€™s nauseating. Gojo pauses when he peers in, waits for there to be any response to his presence. Thereā€™s no way whoevers lurking doesnā€™t know heā€™s there, but thereā€™s nothing that makes him react. He frowns.Ā 
His hand reaches for the handle of the door with a sigh, the mechanism inside clicking to let Gojo know itā€™s open. He takes a deep breath before opening it, stepping inside and shutting it behind him.Ā 
Even with the room as dark as it, the person inside is clear to his vision. A young girl. Probably no older than 17 withā€¦Ā 
He furrows his brow. With a dog, from what it looks like. No ordinary dog, obviously. A curse in the form of a dog, with teeth too sharp for its mouth and fur that looks like a smear of charcoal and nothing like hair at all. Itā€™s on a long leash, the chain wrapped around the young woman's palms.Ā 
The dog seems to tense up at the sight of Gojo. The eyes are empty and white - almost transparent. Itā€™s a snarling thing, muzzle over the mouth and clearly on edge. Gojo looks at its owner, the perpetrator in this instance. Who looks calm, black mask tucked over face and long dark hair with bangs cut sharp.
Gojo doesnā€™t know what to say here. He wasnā€™t expecting to make contact this easily with a curse and its master. Itā€™s been months now, the authorities chasing after this special grade from city to city. Sheā€™s obviously strong, and so is that curse thatā€™s strained against its collar like itā€™s ready to rip him in half if he moves. Not stronger than him, because no such thing ever happens - but strong enough for him to be cautious.Ā 
He doesnā€™t step forward. He stops by the door and tilts his head. Heā€™s sure she canā€™t see his eyes, but they make eye contact all the same. None of it makes any sense, but making sense of it isnā€™t Gojoā€™s job.Ā 
Instead of introducing himself, he opens the conversation with a question.Ā 
ā€œWhyā€™re you still here?ā€Ā 
ā€œI knew I was going to get caught soon.ā€Ā 
An answer he couldnā€™t predict even if he tried. Gojo huffs.Ā 
ā€œThere was some time between the authorities coming and this investigation. You could have left before then, no?ā€Ā 
ā€œDoesnā€™t matter. Something wouldā€™ve stopped me.ā€Ā 
ā€œWhat a weird kid. What led you to that?ā€Ā 
Thereā€™s a minute where the dog (?) starts barking,Ā  but the noise is nothing like a bark. Itā€™s cosmic and strained, and sounds more like a distorted radio than an animal noise. Itā€™s in the shape of an animal but it isnā€™t one, like it couldnā€™t complete itself to be one. Gojo winces at the sound, intensified in the closed walls of the room. Itā€™s piercing, and a little annoying.Ā 
When she soothes it, it calms down quickly. Itā€™s obedient.Ā 
ā€œUh. A vision. Closer to a premonition. Fate.ā€
ā€œFate said you were going to get caught today. Right.ā€Ā 
ā€œArenā€™t you a shaman? Shouldnā€™t be that hard to believe.ā€Ā 
ā€œPoint taken. How did you know I was a shaman and not some murderer?ā€Ā 
She gives Gojo a pointed look.Ā 
ā€œLook at you. Plus, I can feel that youā€™re a shaman.ā€Ā 
ā€œAnother premonition?ā€ He asks, this time sincerely. She shakes her head.Ā 
ā€œNo. Your aura.ā€Ā 
Gojo stares ahead.Ā 
ā€œ...Right, yeah. It doesnā€™t look like youā€™re planning on attacking me.ā€Ā 
ā€œI donā€™t think Iā€™d win. Iā€™ve never met anyone stronger than me.ā€Ā 
ā€œIā€™m the strongest there is, so I guess not. How did you wanna go about this, then? Famous last words?ā€Ā 
ā€œYou go first. Iā€™d rather talk to you than the other officials.ā€Ā 
ā€œHm. Donā€™t know if I have any questions, kiddo. My job is catching you, not interrogation. I guess I am a little interested in why.ā€Ā 
This makes her deflate a little. Itā€™s hardly noticeable, but Gojo sees it anyway. The dog seems to react, snarling at her discomfort. Heā€™s starting to understand the connection between them.
She thinks for a minute longer before sighing.Ā 
ā€œWell. I guess I should start about why, right? Itā€™s an old story. I came from a small village. I used to walk miles to school everyday and Iā€™d get bullied a lot since my granny was a shaman. It was just us growing up. A nice old house with not a lot of modern anything,ā€
Gojo crosses his arms, leaning back on the wall and nodding his head. He figures sheā€™ll tell him top to bottom, so he doesnā€™t give any input.Ā 
ā€œMy granny died a few years ago. I didnā€™t have any family so I moved on my own. Even back then, the only other thing I cared about were animals. I started working at a shelter and then I met Senbei.ā€Ā 
The more she talks, the worse he feels. Gojo already knows how this story will end, but he doesnā€™t interrupt her as she pauses between her sentences. Being 17 and bearing the burdens of loss is something he regards as a nightmare.Ā 
ā€œSenbei was my best friend. Most loyal dog ever. And you know, I started my job with high hopes and kept him by my side. I wasnā€™t always angry. Working in that shelter and watching animals come in trembling every time I fed ā€˜em made me angry. How cruel and sick people could be.ā€Ā 
Her explanations are jumbled and clumsy. She sounds angry but itā€™s not that simple, curling in on herself the more she talks. Noticeably, she doesnā€™t try to justify it. She says it easily, with acceptance that it happened.Ā  He thinks that acceptance is harder to bear than delusion. Gojo canā€™t help but commend her silently.Ā 
ā€œIā€™m sorry you went through that.ā€Ā  Gojo replies.Ā 
Heā€™s being sincere.Ā 
ā€œShould you be sympathizing with me?ā€Ā 
ā€œDoesnā€™t matter. I just do.ā€
Her expression softens. She looks sad, and itā€™s not like Gojo doesnā€™t understand.Ā  She keeps going though, hands shaking in her lap. Gojo thinks she mightā€™ve been waiting to tell someone.Ā 
ā€œI donā€™t know when I stopped seeing the good in peopleā€¦.I always thought aboutā€”about my granny and how no oneā€”no one came to see her. She was always taking care of everyone and no-oneā€”ā€œ
ā€œI know, kid,ā€ Gojo says with a sigh ā€œI get it.ā€Ā 
ā€œThen you know,ā€ She pauses, taking a deep breath. Thereā€™s frustrated tears pouring down her cheek this time. What a strange, sad thing she is:Ā  ā€œThat you canā€™t go back. Even if you forget. It justā€”it changes you.ā€Ā 
Yeah. Gojo knows something about that, too.Ā 
ā€œI was already pretty desperate when Senbei was alive. Just trying to hold on. When he was killed, I lost it. I just fuckingā€” I lost it. Iā€™m sure you understand. You get it right?ā€
Gojo looks at her confused. She shakes her head, looking down in her lap at the curse in her hands.
ā€œI can tell you're like me.Ā  That's why your aura is so tainted andā€¦ fucked up andĀ  malicious. It should be crystalline blue kinda like spring waterā€”but itā€™s muddy. Rigid.ā€Ā 
ā€œWhat are you talking about?ā€
ā€œThe fact youā€™re hanging on by a thread. You can feel it too, right?ā€œĀ 
Gojo remains quiet at her observation. He doesnā€™t know how to react.Ā 
ā€œWhen you want something so bad, it justā€” does something to you. Either because it wonā€™t happen or because it needs to take your life to exist. Happened to granny, to me. Itā€™ll happen to you, too.ā€
ā€œI doubt that,ā€ Gojo says, your face flashing in his mind. He shakes his thoughts away.Ā 
ā€œYouā€™re thinking about it too literally. You want something, so you chase it and lose yourself in the process. Youā€™re dead. No longer you, all tangled and in ruins. Itā€™s not too late, but if you keep goingā€”that thread is gonna snap.ā€Ā 
ā€œA premonition?ā€ He says, partially sarcastic. She shakes her head.Ā 
ā€œNo, a prediction. You donā€™t have to consider it if you donā€™t want to. I just thought Iā€™d tell you since you gave me some last minutes with this Senbei.ā€Ā 
Gojo shakes his head.Ā 
ā€œI donā€™t have any reason to be forceful if you comply. Take your time. I donā€™t have anything better to do.ā€Ā 
Gojo glances at her as she pets it, having resigned herself to silently gazing upon it. He canā€™t stop himself from thinking about everything sheā€™s said, so he averts his gaze to the ceiling and pretends otherwise.
The silent stretches, a pregnant pause before she speaks one more time. She has a look on her face Gojo canā€™t read.
ā€œYou know, itā€™s funny. Everyone thinks dogs are loyal to their masters, but thatā€™s because we made them that way. We canā€™t stand being alone or unloved so we made something that can do both without ever seeing any less of us.ā€Ā 
ā€œYouā€™ve had a lot of time to think about it.ā€Ā  Gojo says, unsure of how to reply. She isnā€™t expecting anything, but remaining silent fills him with a sense of dread.Ā 
ā€œGuess so. You should take some time to think about it too,ā€
She says to him, petting the curse that whines like itā€™s been hit in her small hands. Gojo takes a deep breath.Ā 
ā€œā€¦Yeah. Iā€™ll do that.ā€Ā 
__
The case ends anti-climatically.Ā 
Gojo finds it funny. The officials came and the young girl was promptly arrested. He never even got a chance to ask her name. He learned through some probing that she only made two asks before being taken.Ā 
The first, to keep her curse dog with her, and to send her thanks to the sorcerer who had apprehended her in the first place.
On the news, much later in the week - a news report surfaces. ā€œDanger in the Deep,ā€ giving reasonable and logical explanations for the events that occurred in cities across Japan not even a few weeks ago. New studies show, experts say, hereā€™s a word from your localā€”a barrage of fancy language to pad the publishing, add depth and realism. The public is none the wiser.Ā 
Gojo has to admire the commitment to keeping the peace. The case ends, and the girl gets arrested and put on trial. He doesnā€™t know if heā€™ll be seeing her again any time soon, though heā€™s sure he has the power to intervene.Ā 
Heā€™s hesitating to do so. Why stick his neck out for her in a situation like this one? Over other situations, more dire ones at that. Sheā€™d make a good ally.
Their last conversation hasnā€™t left the back of Gojoā€™s mind. Heā€™s conscious of it, albeit it hasnā€™t slowed him down. Heā€™s not looking for another assessment of who or what ghosts are haunting him. Heā€™d prefer to put it all behind him now
So life, in some capacity, has returned to its baseline. Itā€™s normal. He has cases but they donā€™t take him more than three days. Heā€™s able to do his usual chores without anything impeding them. Heā€™s been teaching, no longer forced to make his students fend for themselves.Ā 
Heā€™s been seeing you again regularly, too.Ā 
Heā€™s getting ready now to do just that. Scheduled to get another coffee together (something of a tradition now) and pick up some conversations. Youā€™ve been busy, though Gojo doesnā€™t know the details of what.
He wants to know. Heā€™s even tried asking but as soon as he gets close to the subject, you slink into yourself like youā€™re trying to disappear. Besides, he doesnā€™t want to intimidate you into telling him.Ā 
(Though, it would be so easy to do. Youā€™ve got a record for being a scaredy cat, and as much as it endears him - he is entirely too hung up on the potential for exploitation to admire it kindly. Itā€™d be easy to turn the notches up, pressure you. With how easy going you are, youā€™d let him do it. Gojo bets youā€™d cave. He thinks the face youā€™d make would be entertaining too.Ā 
Above all, the offer is tempting.)Ā 
In spite of your refusal to discuss the specifics, Gojo does want to cheer you up in whatever capacity he can. So, heā€™s taking you out for a while and hoping a comfortable environment and the presence of other people will soothe your nerves a little.Ā 
Heā€™s getting dressed for it now, rifling through his closet for decent casual attire.Ā 
Heā€™s got his hair styled down, a pair of new sunglasses on the table and his clothes folded on his bed before he tries them on. Most of his closet is uniforms, plain black and boring. For now, heā€™s settled on a black crew neck and blue jeans - ripped at the knees.Ā 
He looks over his appearance in the mirror, posing in it. Arms flexed and stretched over his head before putting them out in front of his body.Ā 
He takes his time to take part in the ritual. He slips his boxers up over his legs, waist band tight around his torso and clinging to the curves of his thighs. He pulls his jeans up, low at his hips with a belt buckled through the front. Then comes his sweater over his abdomen.Ā 
He wants to look nice. Though, he could be deluding himself - lately you seem a little more aware of his appearance. It makes him happy that his good looks havenā€™t failed him in the instance they matter most.Ā 
As he puts on his accessories (in this case a watch and a ring) his phone buzzes atop his dresser. He stops to pick it up, a message from you on the screen. He peers over so his face can be read, then smiles.Ā 
(sent 11:15am) Ready ~Ā 
He laughs to himself.Ā 
(sent 11:16am) Almost ready. Need to look my best for such a tremendous occasion.Ā 
(sent 11:16am) For coffee?Ā 
(sent 11;17) For coffee with my favorite kindergarten teacher ofc ā™”
You send back a simple reply telling him to hurry and come out. Gojo chooses to interpret your embarrassment as a sign. It puts some pep in his step, and he hurries to finish dressing up.Ā 
He steps out of his house, locking his door from the outside before shuffling down a single flight of stairs and out into the front entrance of his complex. He notices you waiting at the front gate from where heā€™s standing.Ā 
The neighborhood dog (officially named Pokupan) is asleep by the security office. Youā€™re the same as always. Today's outfit is a dress with long sleeves and colored tights. It suits you. A splash of warmth in an otherwise dreary world, Gojo stands in place as he watches you for an unidentified amount of time. Minutes feel like seconds as you pace back and forth. Your phone must be in your purse because he canā€™t find it anywhere on you.Ā 
Heā€™s delighted when you finally turn your head to look at him. You cup your hand and give him a kind wave which he laughs at and returns enthusiastically. His stride is long, walking towards the gate.Ā 
You have to tilt your neck up to look at him (making his chest squeeze unhelpfully) but you smile when you do so.Ā 
ā€œHey,ā€Ā 
ā€œHello there Miss. Waiting for a special someone?ā€ He jokes. You flush.Ā 
ā€œTheyā€™re an important friend,ā€Ā 
He tries not to let his smile falter. Friend.Ā 
ā€œThen, is it a bother if I ask to take you out?ā€Ā 
This time you falter. Gojo notices it out of the corner of his eye, the briefest brush of nerves that makes it seem like youā€™re warming up to him after all. Itā€™s gone as quickly as it came but itā€™s there and Gojo etches it into the back of his eyelids for memory. He smiles at you as you look away, flush
ā€œNot at all,ā€Ā 
He grins, again, even brighter. Then he sticks his arm out for you to loop in. You hesitate again. This time Gojo canā€™t be sure why.
ā€œIā€™m just being a gentleman, you know?ā€ He pouts. His frown takes effect as you loop your arms together. He keeps it friendly. Too much pushing and youā€™ll skitter away right before his eyes. Still, even this much progress feels good. It feels whole and light and good.Ā 
Itā€™s a pleasant sort of day.Ā 
Not that itā€™s warm, or even sunny. Itā€™s cold, on the edge of Autumn that dances into Winter. Freezing but bright out, the kind of sky where everything is clear. During the day the sky has no clouds and no stars when it comes to night time.Ā 
Nonetheless itā€™s nice. The cold is the kind that makes you want to cozy into someone for warmth, so Gojo doesnā€™t mind walking in. The walk itself isnā€™t very long either. The cafe is near your complex, just about 15 minutes worth of walking. Thereā€™s no snow or ice to trip on, and because itā€™s freezing - you shiver every time you stray too far from the heat of his body so the walking is done exceptionally close together
There are kids and parents walking together on the street alongside you, dogs and their owners, street vendors with hot tea. Itā€™s that kind of day where the cold doesnā€™t keep anyone indoors, in fact everyone seems to relish in the fact they can run and run and run without overheating. It feels like everything is in sync with each other, comfortable and harmonious in spite of everything else.
After 15 minutes, youā€™ve arrived at the store front. Not long enough for Gojo, but thatā€™s okay. Thereā€™s next time he has to look forward too.Ā 
(He tells himself this every time. Itā€™s never enough for him. He can never get enough of listening to you talk. He could probably mimic your cadence without having to try. Itā€™s a sound he doesnā€™t get sick ofā€•a miracle, another one, because Gojo hates so many soundsā€•yet thereā€™s one he always looks out for.Ā 
There has to be a next time. If he forgets to tell himself as much, he gets so restless he can hardly stand.
The cafe is nice. Itā€™s one of those places that you see on Instagram often with plenty of sweets for Gojoā€™s taste and plenty of fancy teas for yours. The outside has beige-colored brick and a brown sign decorated with cutesy drawings. You spend a good amount of time crouched beside it, taking a picture or two to later post on your story.Ā 
ā€œYou have to tag me, okay? Itā€™s your payment for wasting our precious time together,ā€ He jokes.Ā 
You stand to your feet and brush off your pants, the material of your coat rustling as you do.Ā 
ā€œYes, yes ā€• I promise. Iā€™ll have to ask who drew them when we get in there.ā€Ā 
Gojo smiles at your enthusiasm before opening the door for you.Ā  Another one of those glass ones with a logo printed on the top half and the metal tinted brown. A little bell chimes above your head as you head in first, and Gojo heads in after you. He has to duck not to his his head on the top of it.
Itā€™s not too crowded at this hour. A handful of people sit among the many tables and booths. Your head is turned to the menu and Gojo trails behind you like a shadow. One to compliment all your light.Ā 
It smells delightful inside. Like warm cookies and vanilla and tea. Gojo feels his sweet tooth kick in the minute you two stand in line. The barista is a doe-eyed blonde college student. Thereā€™s another employee with long dark hair and thin, narrow eyes. It reminds Gojo a lot of that girl he met a few weeks ago but he tries to put that thought out of his mind.
He sticks his hands in his pockets and eyes the menu. The special item is a yuzu cream cake, the picture of it hanging on the wall like employee of the month. Thereā€™s a glass display of all the other items and the menu matches the rest of the decor.
ā€œThis was a good choice,ā€ Gojo says, entranced by all the desserts around him. You laugh, turning your head slightly to look at him.Ā 
ā€œAre you complimenting yourself right now?ā€Ā 
ā€œAm I wrong?ā€Ā 
ā€œYour sweet tooth is so bad,ā€ You say through giggles ā€œYour poor dentist,ā€Ā 
He gasps in offense.
ā€œI will have you know I keep my pearly whites pristine. Not a single cavity for the record.ā€ He says back, placing emphasis on the last words. You snort a laugh.Ā 
ā€œIā€™ve never had one either,ā€ You repeat back, perhaps mindlessly before saying ā€œThereā€™s a lot we donā€™t know about each other yet.ā€Ā 
Yet. Yet. Gojoā€™s subconscious will hold onto that word for too long. It makes his heart beat too loud. Heā€™s relieved that youā€™re nothing like him. If you were in this very moment, you would hear the thunder raging inside of his ribs.Ā 
Instead of saying anything, he scoffs playfully.Ā 
ā€œI bet you were such a goody two-shoes that you never ate sweets before bed-time.ā€Ā 
Your eyes widen in surprise followed by embarrassment, where you tuck your chin into your sweater.Ā 
ā€œUgh,ā€ You say, so weakly Gojo canā€™t stop himself from laughing ā€œWhatā€™s wrong with being a goody two shoes, huh?ā€Ā 
Gojo feels almost feline in his self-satistication. ā€œI didnā€™t say anything was wrong with it, just that you were one.ā€Ā 
Your frown deepens.Ā 
ā€œI donā€™t care for your tone, mister.ā€Ā 
ā€œAre you gonna scold me like one of your students?ā€Ā 
ā€œIf it gets you to be nice,ā€ You say firmly, in that Teacher voice that Gojo has caught glimpses of over the last few months. He does a fake salute.Ā 
ā€œYes, maā€™am!,ā€ He proclaims,Ā  soft enough so only you hear it. You break out into another set of his giggles, melting his cold heart. Itā€™s not the smile so much as it is yours.Ā  The line moves up just a little bit. Gojo steps in front of you before you have a chance, his figure shadowing you.Ā 
ā€œWhat do you want?ā€Ā 
ā€œI think Iā€™m gonna get one of those fruit teas and some cake.ā€ You say absentmindedly. He smiles at you playfully.Ā 
ā€œHeard,ā€Ā 
Gojo turns to order for you both, laughing through your obvious protests about his paying for you. Heā€™s able to block you from getting in the way as the cashier looks on the both of you bemusedly. When the order is placed, Gojo taps his phone against the reader before moving aside where you stomp your feet and follow him.Ā 
ā€œI told you I would get it this time,ā€ You whine. He hums.Ā 
ā€œMm, thereā€™s always next time?ā€Ā 
ā€œYou say that every time!ā€Ā 
ā€œSo you never know? Maybe itā€™s next time for sure.ā€Ā 
You seem to realize that this is a fruitless conversation and that heā€™s not going to relent. With a flush on your face, you cross your arms and pout.Ā 
ā€œIā€™ll get you back one of these times, I swearā€¦.Anyway, thank you.ā€ You add the last part quietly. He hums.Ā 
ā€œItā€™s only fair, you know. After all, who else would come here to eat sweets with me?ā€Ā 
You look taken aback but Gojo doesnā€™t retract his statement. Heā€™s sure thereā€™s someone he could ask. But thereā€™s no one who would agree to it as easily as you have. The environment wouldnā€™t be so welcoming, either. Someone who would do something like this with Gojo is long lost. It almost feels foreign to him now.Ā 
In order to ease the tension, you look up at him warmly.Ā 
ā€œThen, Iā€™m glad you asked me.ā€Ā 
There it is again. That warm, sort of fluttery feeling he gets in his chest being around you. He wonders if heā€™s allowed to be so happy.Ā 
The food arrives at the counter, the young woman calling out for Gojo. You and Gojo split the task of carrying the plates, picking a nice booth in the corner with the top covered, You slide in across from him, situating your bag.Ā 
You and Gojo go back and forth, setting up everything so it looks nice under the lights. Gojo takes on taking the photos this time, clicking from a few different angles and stopping to show you after each photo.Ā 
ā€œIā€™ll send you the picture later, okay?ā€Ā 
ā€œDonā€™t forget.ā€Ā 
ā€œI wonā€™t, I wonā€™t. Letā€™s eat, okay?ā€Ā 
You nod enthusiastically.
__Ā 
You and Gojo eat and chat comfortably for a while.Ā 
Heā€™s not sure how much time passes. He wasnā€™t checking because why would he? Heā€™d like to be with you a bit longer, so he refrains from thinking about it and hopes you do the same. Just a bit more, he tells himself. Until you really, really have to go.Ā 
Thereā€™s nothing major to catch up on. You tell Gojo about your job, mostly and how you saw some friends from out of town the week before. Winter is coming and you want to do something nice for the holidays. Youā€™re getting along well with your fellow teachers which is good. He was worried about that, but he canā€™t keep eyes on you at school.Ā 
(Not for not having tried. Heā€™s thought about it, but his presence would be too noticeable and he doesnā€™t trust anyone else to the task)Ā 
So itā€™s relieving. Your only complaint has been that some of the students have the sort of parents you canā€™t handle. Pushy and involved in a way you canā€™t ignore but canā€™t tolerate either. Gojo jokes to take care of them, gesturing to his arm like heā€™s ready to knock someone's lights out.Ā 
That makes you laugh, and following it you have this melancholy look that sends alarms blaring in Gojoā€™s head. You donā€™t broach the subject at all afterwards. You talk about everything else you can. The sale on radishes at the market, thinking about getting a car just to have it, maybe visiting your parents sometime soon.Ā 
Gojo listens. He doesnā€™t have much to add. His work is strictly classified to people who arenā€™t in the field and itā€™s nothing fun to begin with. He does tell you what he can - usually about some antics his students have gotten into during training. He can at least talk about that.Ā 
He tells you about the movies heā€™s watched, how he went drinking with his co-workers last week, and how he thinks Pokupan is starting to act friendlier to him.Ā 
Itā€™s fun because itā€™s you. Gojo likes feeling like heā€™s involved with you intimately. He likes hearing you talk. The sound of your voice is such a pleasant contrast to his own. You talk with a kind of joy Gojo could never hope to carry, all gestures and smiles and interjections - trying to make sure your point comes across. How you donā€™t think the kid sitting in the front is a bad kid, just needs guidance. How the material of your sweater isnā€™t really cashmere but more of a blend.Ā 
Time passesĀ  comfortably that way. The drinks and food have been reduced to crumbs and cold drops of tea, glasses emptied and phones abandoned.Ā 
But neither of you have made any move to leave, and Gojo is still listening to you talk with a pleased smile on his face. It was a pleasant sort of day, remember?Ā 
ā€œSo it was fine in the end, but the classroom was such a mess seriouslyā€•ā€Ā 
So, it throws Gojo off when you stop speaking so abruptly. How easily the atmosphere melts, and what an unpleasant film it leaves behind.Ā 
It feels like an axe hammering on a stop, a sharp and near violent thud that cuts off the end of your sentence. The air becomes tense in the blink of an eye. Gojo can feel it, the sensation of cursed energy. Itā€™s stagnated, little like pebbles at the bottom of a creek. But itā€™s there, and Gojo can feel it creep over your shoulders like a sixth sense. Like someone skipped a stone over that same water. He senses it in the air like dust in the light.
He sits up straight, focusing his attention on you.Ā 
ā€œHey,ā€ He calls out, softening his voice as much as he can. Trying hard to identify what's wrong exactly ā€œYou okay?ā€Ā 
Your hands shake as you lay them flat on the table. Youā€™re almost completely spaced out by now. It all happens in the blink of an eye.Ā 
Gojo stares at you, calling to you a second time.Ā 
ā€œHey. Hey, look at me?ā€Ā 
When you finally hear him, you jump in your skin. Your shoulders relax when you realize itā€™s only Gojo. Normally that would make him happy, but not like this. Your hands are shaking. A nervous fidget in all of your movements that heā€™s never seen before, like youā€™ve been shocked with electric wire. He hates it. The taste of your fear (this fear) is different and unfamiliar.Ā 
He doesnā€™t like it.Ā 
You turn your head to look at him then avert your eyes again. He canā€™t follow your gaze as it shifts. Itā€™s too erratic.
ā€œNo, uhm. Itā€™s just, uhm.ā€Ā 
ā€œWoah! Hey, Miss. I wasnā€™t expecting to see you here,ā€Ā 
Everything feels like it slows down as Gojo watches your eyes snap up. Your expression drops again, even lower, and if he listens close enough he can hear the sound of your heart. Your discomfort is tangible. It leaves a metallic taste in Gojoā€™s mouth as you suddenly curl in yourself, shoulders hunched and peeling skin off your nails.Ā 
You donā€™t even look to Gojo for help. Instead, your words go soft.Ā  You become helpless in front of his eyes.Ā 
ā€œOh. Yes, hello.ā€ You bow your head trying to say as little as possible. Gojo stares as you shake like a leaf in the wind. Something ugly curls up inside of him, a knife twisting in his chest.Ā 
ā€œAw, cā€™mon? Whatā€™s with the unfriendly act? Is it ā€˜cause youā€™re here with your boyfriend?ā€
You look up at him panicked. Not because of the comment, but because of his tone. Gojo hears it too. How sinister it is. Like heā€™s blaming you for it somehow, like youā€™ve wronged him. The feeling inside of him is so ugly, itā€™s so wretched. His knuckles turn nearly white from how hard heā€™s closing his fist. You put your hands up and go to explain yourself anxiously.Ā 
It makes Gojo sick. He smiles, turning his head just a little so he can see. He opens his eyes and stares, focusing his vision on remembering every detail of the bastard's face.
ā€œIā€™m not her boyfriend. Weā€™re neighbors,ā€ He explains, tone as cold as ice but smiling.Ā 
Gojo puts pressure in the atmosphere. His natural and suffocating aura returns to him easily. He smiles and remains unnervingly still, waits in quiet for the man to respond. He scratches the back of his head, still indignant.Ā 
ā€œUh. Okay. I guess thatā€™s good. Wouldnā€™t be appropriate for a teacher to be out on a date like this huh?ā€Ā 
Again. This guy, whoever he is, turns his head like heā€™s trying to talk down to you. Diverts his perversion and sadism towards you that leaves Gojo wondering what his head would look like against concrete. A bitter, heinous feeling waits inside of him, nesting into his ribs as the sound of every voice in the room comes to be muffled. All Gojo can hear is his heart. How long it's been since heā€™s heard it.Ā 
Itā€™s loud. A cacophony, or a hymn. Divine rage in the sound of his soul leaves has him unsure of how to proceed.Ā 
Gojo glances at you. Your eyes are rounded, full of desperation. Pleading.Ā 
Gojo hates whoever this is. Gojo wants to save you. He thinks you deserve to be saved.Ā 
He stands up. He has enough height on the guy to be intimidating, the guy just barely coming up to his shoulder. Gojo stares down wildly, pulling his glasses to the bridge of his nose to peek briefly over the edge. The bastard stops talking immediately, words coming to a stutter, Itā€™s satisfying.Ā 
ā€œWho are you?ā€ He asks.Ā 
ā€œWh-why is that any of your concern? Canā€™t you see Iā€™m talking toā€•ā€Ā 
ā€œI didnā€™t ask about who you were talking to. I asked who you were,ā€Ā 
He hears you from behind him ā€œHeā€™s a parent from my school,ā€
ā€œAh, okay. Interesting. Since youā€™re a parent, we wouldnā€™t want to make this a confrontation right?ā€ Gojo says, bemused ā€œItā€™d be a real issue for everyone if it turned out that way,ā€Ā 
Gojo puts a hand on his shoulder, tightening his grip hard enough to hear him gasp. Heā€™s weak, but thatā€™s to be expected.
ā€œSo, I suggest you turn around and head home, hm? Since we wouldnā€™t want it to be a big fuss.ā€Ā 
Gojo can see it now. With a little pressure, he could turn the blade of his shoulder in sawdust and watch him fall to his knees. Heā€™d let out a cry, a sharp pathetic wail like a hit dog. Gojo would make him say sorry to you before he lets up his hand from his skin. Heā€™d do it infront of everyone in the store so they could hold a little fear in their hearts.Ā 
He wonā€™t do it. Just for now. If it complicates your work then you wouldnā€™t be able to support yourself. What would he do if you ended up somewhere far away? Out of his sight, something like this could happen again and Gojo wouldnā€™t be able to take care of you.Ā 
So he doesnā€™t crush it. He pushes his palms into his shoulder blades and whispers quietly, just so the two of them hear. He pulls away and watches as his face goes pale, a simple stutter leaving his lips. Something about how heā€™ll see you later and that somethings come up before he turns around and leaves.
Gojo watches as he does. The door chimes again, and the man disappears. The patrons who mightā€™ve glanced turn away again like it was just a simple altercation, which is good. Then finally, Gojo looks at you where you are. Your hands are trembling so hard, a shake of relief in your shoulders as you cover your face. You look like youā€™re getting ready to cry, so Gojo takes it into his own hands. He cleans up all the food, wipes the table, and even grabs your jacket and bag as you take a minute to collect yourself.Ā 
He taps your shoulder lightly afterwards, waiting for you to look up. Once you do he smiles, reaches a hand out to you so you donā€™t have to think twice.Ā 
ā€œAbout time to get out of here, huh?ā€Ā 
You nod, so slowly. You look so relieved, even as you sniffle. Your hand is so small compared to his. He squeezes it protectively as you slide it into his own, and helps you walk out of the store together.Ā 
The air is cold, the same as before, the temperature having warmed just a bit. The bell above the door rings as the two of you finally leave, standing in the street. Unlike before though, thereā€™s something bitter in the air. The sun has hidden itself completely in the clouds and the streets feel emptier, lifeless.Ā 
Gojo turns to you with a somber expression, trying to smile. It doesnā€™t quite reach his eyes.Ā 
ā€œDo you want to go somewhere to talk about it, maybe?ā€Ā 
You chew your lower lip then sigh ā€œ...Yeah. Probably should, huh?ā€Ā 
You and Gojo decide on a place not too far from where you are. Itā€™s a small park, a good place to end off an otherwise good day.Ā 
You have to take the bus to get there, but thereā€™s not many people. Gojo eventually gives you back your things, lets you slide your jacket on and fix your face - but ultimately takes your hand and holds it on the ride there. He brings it to his lap and you donā€™t pull away even though you seem to fidget the whole time.Ā 
The bus finally stops in front of the park. It takes hardly any time, but Gojo finds heā€™s unable to let go of your hand so he doesnā€™t. Instead, he holds tight and lets you trail behind. You let him lead you quietly out back in the street. You give your thanks to the driver as the doors close.Ā 
He canā€™t let go of your hand, though he knows now wouldā€™ve been a good time to do it. His grip only grows tighter.Ā 
ā€œLet's go find somewhere to sit,ā€ He offers. You squeeze his hand this time and donā€™t look away.Ā 
ā€œOkay,ā€Ā 
He tries to keep pace with you this time, instead of walking ahead. Your strides are shorter than his so heā€™s careful that you donā€™t fall behind. Your eyes still have that watery look to them but youā€™re no longer trembling from fear. Just the cold, if anything.Ā 
And your heartbeat no longer sounds so hazardous. Gojo is still restless, still fidgety. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin but itā€™s not really for you.Ā 
You find a bench, eventually - in the middle of the long walk-way just a distance away from a playground. Gojo juts his chin out towards it, before turning over to look at you.
ā€œLetā€™s go sit,ā€Ā 
You nod as you walk together towards it. You sit first, and Gojo finally lets go of you. He sits besides you. Thereā€™s a minute where the whole world is deathly quiet. There should be something calm about it, but it isnā€™t. Youā€™re no longer terrified, and a distance away. Thereā€™s no danger lurking in the dark and thereā€™s no cars passing or children crying.Ā 
Everything is calm and silent, but Gojo couldnā€™t feel more unease if he tried. He thinks he hides it well. But thereā€™s that itch again, in a place behind his ribs he canā€™t reach into and he finds it hard to breathe.Ā 
ā€œSo,ā€ He starts, breaking the tension ā€œIā€™m guessing itā€™s not a friend,ā€Ā 
The stupid joke makes a smile appear on your lips. Itā€™s small, but Gojo takes some comfort in it anyway. You wipe away your lower lash gently, a wet laugh leaving your mouth.Ā 
ā€œNo, not a friend. Heā€™s uhmā€¦ a parent from my school.ā€Ā 
ā€œThe one whoā€™s been bothering you for all these weeks?ā€ Gojo supplies. You turn your head, eyes widened in surprise. Gojo lets out a breathy laugh.Ā 
ā€œYouā€¦.knew?ā€Ā 
ā€œNot about him specifically, but I could tell something was bothering you,ā€ He admits, and then adds ā€œI always pay attention to my favorite person, you know?ā€Ā 
The addition has you looking away, but Gojo doesnā€™t mind. You sigh, rubbing your face with your palms before leaning back against the bench with your head hanging off the edge.Ā 
ā€œHeā€™s the parent of one of my students. Akio, heā€™s a good kid. A really well-behaved one butā€¦ too well-behaved. Never raises his hand, never complains or says he wonā€™t do something.ā€Ā 
ā€œIā€™m guessing that sent off an alarm bell, huh?ā€Ā 
You nod softly.Ā 
ā€œYeah. I figure it was something at home, but Iā€™d met his mom prior and she was a real angel. Then, his dad came to visit. The man we met at the store, and I knew right away.ā€Ā 
Gojo feels his jaw clench listening to you talk.Ā 
ā€œBut still, you know, my job as a teacher is to be as respectful as I can. I always politely declined him when he would make comments and remained professional. Eventually, his mom stopped coming altogether andā€”I tried, I reallyā€”but heā€¦ā€ You trail off, a lump in your throat. He watches as tears form in your eyes, his anger getting more and more tangible. He tries not to express it, putting a hand on your knee ā€œHe justā€¦ kept pushing. A-and once, he looked like he was gonna get violent. I made a report, you know, to the school. But you know how they are,ā€Ā 
ā€œThey never even bothered investigating huh,ā€ Gojo sneers. You laugh a tired sort of laugh.Ā 
ā€œOf course not. After that, I just tried to endure it. And I know he hasnā€™t done anything technically, but it doesnā€™t really feel like a matter of if but when,ā€ You explain haphazardly.Ā  Gojo squeezes where his hand rests.Ā 
ā€œI believe you. Itā€™s okay,ā€ He says as soothingly as he possibly can ā€œItā€™s okay. Iā€™m here,ā€Ā 
Thereā€™s a sense of relief that washes over your whole body and before he knows it, youā€™re breaking down. He feels a lot of emotions all at the same time, watching your little frame as you lose it so easily in front of him. A part of him is so furious he wants to make it everyone's problem. Another part of him is so deeply sad knowing youā€™ve suffered all on your own.Ā 
And the most notable part of him is the sense of protectiveness, burrowing inside of him. A sense of possession. It sinks into him like teeth, seeps into his blood like the venom of an animal so that he bleeds and breathes it. Gojo canā€™t shake that deep sense of urgency, a nameless and faceless desire that consumes him. He shudders.. He holds it in, all of it. Cups his hands so desperately so that it doesnā€™t spill over and touch you, the ink of ruining the soft white of your clothes.Ā 
In a world that you have made beautiful, desire is ugly. Hideous and infectious, it tears Gojo limb from limb. It makes Gojo feel on edge. Gojo should not desire for any more than what he was. People always die when he does.Ā 
But maybe they donā€™t have to. Maybe, he can protect you. He can keep you safe. He wants to keep you safe. He wants to keep you all to himself.
Itā€™s in an effort to soothe those feelings that his arms find themselves around your form. Itā€™s the first time youā€™ve hugged in such an intimate way. Where expects you to turn away - you donā€™t.Ā 
Instead you cling, your arms around his jacket and your face in his chest. You cry and weep and sob and you look so small like that. You look like youā€™ll collapse and Gojo holds you. Says itā€™s okay, itā€™s okay, itā€™s okay as you let it all out. It must feel good to finally let it all out, after everything and he doesnā€™t intend to stop you.Ā 
ā€œI promise Iā€™ll always protect you from now on,ā€ And he says it, and means it. If you feel the weight of his statement, you donā€™t let it show ā€œItā€™s okay. You can cry if you need too,ā€Ā 
You cry and cry and cry.Ā 
And Gojo thinks the call of heaven is nothing in comparison to the sound.Ā 
__
In the end, Gojo canā€™t forgive him.Ā 
Itā€™s not without effort. He tries to do it at your request, because after all the tears he wants to help. He says he can maybe pull some strings. But that gentle heart you have declines. You donā€™t want it to become a big deal. You feel a little better knowing he knows. In the end, you donā€™t want it to affect that brats reputation.Ā 
ā€œYou know how kids can be,ā€ You say, voice full of concern for everyone but yourself ā€œI donā€™t want to make school life anymore difficult than his life at home must be,ā€Ā 
So, Gojo tries to listen to you. But days pass, and days turn into weeks. In the end, a month goes by and Gojo is full of terrible and divine anger.Ā 
In the end, Gojo wonā€™t forgive him. Gojo canā€™t let it go. He feels so righteous in it, he starts avoiding his own eyes in the mirror. Thereā€™s something inside of them he has no desire to look at. Eyes that tell all, Gojo turns away from their gaze. Gojo is angry for you, and itā€™s not in his character to do nothing about it.Ā 
He decides on less of a whim that it looks. He wonders about alternatives, if thereā€™s anything that can stop this feeling from imploding inside of him but nothing comes.
When he decides that nothing can be done, Gojo goes out of his way to start watching him.Ā 
Like any mission, he needs enough background information to map out a plan.Ā  He wants to make sure that it has virtually no pushback for you. Thereā€™s always a possibility youā€™ll get caught in the crossfire and thatā€™d be the worst possible outcome. Gojo can protect you from a lot of things, but heā€™s not as confident about the law.Ā 
(Not that he canā€™t. Just not in the good, right way heā€™s sure you want him to protect you in. Gojoā€™s love is divine, not right. Thereā€™s nothing in this world Gojo canā€™t shield you from, because heā€™s the strongest.)
Ā He also canā€™t make anything obvious or leave any room for interpretation. If thereā€™s anything that feels off when the reports go live - youā€™ll stick your nose where it doesnā€™t belong. He thinks in the instance you find out (about all of it, the premeditationĀ  especially) youā€™d probably tuck your tail and run.Ā 
(Gojo would find you. But the chase means thereā€™s some time youā€™re apart. The thought is almost nauseating.)Ā 
He likes that youā€™re curious about everything. In most instances anyways. But he thinks itā€™s better to leave you in the dark sometimes. Having you worry about it would ruin the point of this. And sometimes, itā€™s better not knowing every detail. Honeytraps are more ethical than nets.Ā 
Heā€™s doing it for you in the end, like he does most things. And the kid will benefit, maybe even get some sympathy from his classmates for a while about the tragedy that befell his father. Gojo thinks itā€™s a good plan because no one loses.Ā  Itā€™s a lot like killing a curse.Ā 
It only takes two weeks to learn virtually everything there is to know. A guy like that doesnā€™t have much he can hide.Ā 
The name of his target, he learns, is Nobu Watanabe. Father to Akio Watanbe and ex-husband to Akiko Watanbe. Heā€™s a recently released felon (let off on good behavior) with a battery and assault with a deadly weapon charge. Heā€™s a college drop-out, and has been working a lot of odd-jobs since he was 16.
His personality is bad, worse is his drinking and smoking habits. Heā€™s often found drunk in the street, and has a track record for single nights spent in a cell. His ex-wife is usually the one bailing him out. Gojo canā€™t help but feel sorry for her. Somehow, he doubts that heā€™s good to her. Heā€™s a deadbeat father through and through. He only offers to pick up his kid to harass you. At least from what he can tell.Ā 
He isnā€™t as awful to his kid as everyone else. Gojo doubts that was always the case. Akio isnā€™t a bad kid, but itā€™s hard not to notice the way the light in his eyes disappears when his father comes around to pick him up. A head always looking towards the floor, hands tucked in his pockets.Ā 
Itā€™s difficult for Gojo to feel any guilt about what heā€™s doing. After everything, he canā€™t find it in himself to feel any regret.Ā 
His target is currently working at a dock, not too far from the city. He seems to work there most days, working at a bar on the weekends. Itā€™s a big company that handles foreign goods that he does physical labor for. Lifting and moving boxings, checking inventory - itā€™s not a complicated affair.Ā 
If thereā€™s not a major shipment, he still seems to clock in so heā€™s definitely paid some kind of hourly wage. He smokes often on the job, but works diligently when there is something to do. An easy but physical job, heā€™s strong. Gojo can understand what intimidates you about him.Ā 
Gojo, though, isnā€™t intimidated by him at all.Ā 
He waits a week before he takes action. To shake off anyone or anything that might be trailing him, and to make sure that everything is the same as he observed. That his schedule wasnā€™t going to change. A week passes, and when Gojo has confirmation - he decides to do what he does best.Ā 
Gojo Satoru decides to play God on a Sunday.
Sunday is a day shipments come in and a day he often works alone. The pay is better on Sunday and Nobu is the only one on his shift who takes it. Heā€™s not expected to finish the strenuous work because heā€™s alone for such a long stretch of time - just to make a dent in it. The people at the next shift are the ones who finish the job.Ā 
He starts his day as early as 6am. Itā€™s near winter, so the world is painted in a miraculously melancholy blue. Gojo follows him that morning. He knows the route well enough to trail behind him and not attract any attention. They pass together, turning corners and taking bus rides until Nobuā€™s finally in at his job.Ā 
There, they part briefly. His target goes into the big white building and he goes on top. Gojo has to teleport to the roof because everything is gated with security cameras covering every inch of the property. Following him puts Gojo at risk. So he waits on top of the building, hands in his pocket and pacing until Nobu comes out the otherside to the docks. His jumpsuit put on haphazardly, only half-pulled up to his waist, with a clipboard and pen as a bunch of boxes waiting for him to check them.Ā 
After Gojo confirms that heā€™s alone, he lies in wait. He sits and waits - watching as the clouds pass. Watching the open sea, how it remains unchanging no matter what boats pass through to shore. He looks at his phone every now and again to check the time.Ā 
It shouldnā€™t be too difficult to actually do it.Ā 
You know, if Gojo turns his infinity on, thereā€™s nothing in the world that can touch him. He can touch it, but it canā€™t touch him. There will always be a barrier between his hands and the world. Between him and the known universe, a bridge that started burning the minute Gojo was born into it. If Gojo turns on his infinity, thereā€™s no way to leave traces of him behind.Ā 
Did you know? If Gojo turns on his infinity, his fingerprints donā€™t show up. Thereā€™s no DNA to find. Not a trace of him in the world that he hasnā€™t left purposefully. Even if Gojo chokes him with his hands bare hands - he wouldnā€™t be touching him. But Gojo can feel it. Feel his pulse, feel his breathing come down slowly.
If thereā€™s such a thing as heaven or hell, Gojo wants to ask God about being homicidal. If it was a flaw of human design or their Lord reflected inside of them.Ā 
He lies in wait on top of the roof until 7.Ā 
When 7 hits, the world around him is still so dark. No one kills in broad daylight. The heavens are murky, sky full of black clouds like puffs of smoke. Itā€™s freezing cold, a spine-tingling chill making its way up Gojoā€™s skin and hardening his hands. . Gojo waits for the doors of the garage to creak open. When the sound echoes into the air, a metal screech in the void, Gojo stands to his feet.Ā 
He jumps to the ground, landing with a dull thud. He comes out unscathed, a cat on his feet. He dusts off the front of his pants. Nobu hasnā€™t taken notice of him. Gojo takes a look around them. Thereā€™s no cameras in the warehouse. Gojo waits alone in the dark.Ā 
Five minutes. Itā€™s five minutes when all of the lights go out.Ā 
ā€œWhat the fuck?ā€ Nobu mumbles, dropping his clipboard on top of a bunch of boxes, running a hand through his hair. Gojo waits in silence, watches as he turns around.Ā 
When he finally does, he jumps back in shock. Gojo feels a cold chill run through his body.Ā 
ā€œWhat the fuck? Who the hell are you?ā€ Nobu asks. Gojo grins.Ā 
ā€œAh, you donā€™t remember? We met a few weeks ago! We had a nice little exchange and everything.ā€ He says, voice going higher by an octave. The man in front of him stares, off put by Gojosā€™ presence. He stumbles in his thinking, his body tensing up.Ā 
ā€œWho theā€¦what the fuck is going on?ā€Ā 
ā€œHey, donā€™t be so scared,ā€ Gojo says, then uses his teleport to phase himself closer. Nobuā€™s eyes widen, shocked. Scared out of his wits, with the story of heartbeat like heā€™s being hunted. ā€œTough guy like you has nothing to be scared of, does he?ā€Ā 
ā€œW-w-whatā€¦how did youā€¦ā€Ā 
Gojo shakes his head.Ā 
ā€œDonā€™t worry about it, man.ā€ He says, voice calm and smooth and even. Heā€™s surprised by how his emotions feel in his body. Like heā€™s so angry that heā€™s not. Thereā€™s something inside of him, the white waters that wade, that Gojo can feel. Itā€™s strange ā€œWeā€™ve got about 5 minutes till the lights come back on.ā€Ā 
For a while, they stand at a draw. No one moves. Not him, or Nobu, or the open oceans. Itā€™s quiet for a dock. Even quieter for a dock in Tokyo, and Gojoā€™s not even using his abilities. He probably wonā€™t need too, other than infinity - thereā€™s not any good reason for him to exert himself any more than he must.Ā 
Weeks of planning, weeks of watching, weeks of waiting. Nothing feels like it matters at the moment. He wants it to be over soon-ish.Ā 
Itā€™s not that Gojo is particularly sadistic.Ā 
Itā€™s just that, everything feels like itā€™s teetering over this very moment. He thinks it to himself quietly like someone trying to remember where they last left their keys.Ā 
Briefly, Gojo thinks ā€œI canā€™t go back,ā€ after this. In the back of his head he just knows.
He envies this aggravating strangers' ignorance, too.Ā 
ā€œWhat do you want from me?ā€ He says, stuttering - a gasping breath of fear in his lungs that snaps Gojo out of his thoughts. Gojo shrugs.Ā 
ā€œNothing, really. Iā€™m not short on money, you know? I make a good living,ā€ He says, spouting off about nothing as he closes the gap between them. Stepping closer infinitely until Gojo backs him into the garage, into the tall tower of boxers where thereā€™s no cameras and no witnesses ā€œHmā€¦is there anything you can do to fix this?ā€Ā 
No, Gojo answers mostly to himself, But wouldnā€™t that be nice?Ā 
ā€œP-please, I haveā€”ā€Ā 
ā€œA son right? And an ex-wife, and a dead mom in Saitama. You didnā€™t think I came here without doing any research, did you? Weā€™re the same in that way you know, I might be a frivolous - but hell if Iā€™m not diligent,ā€Ā 
He looks like heā€™s going to throw up. Gojo remains indifferent.Ā 
ā€œWho are you?ā€ He asks, this time really wondering. With that hoarse voice of curiosity, of defeat.
Gojo hums.
ā€œGood question. Who do you think I am?ā€ Gojo poses and lifts his hands up. He puts them around his neck, pushing hard until his back is against the stack of boxes. Itā€™s dark but Gojo can see everything. He keeps his open, tightening the grip of his hands slowly.Ā 
Nobu tries to spit something out but the words get sputtered, muffled by lack of oxygen.Ā 
ā€œDo you think Iā€™m a devil? An angel? God? I wonder,ā€ Gojo says, staring. With his mask on, but his eyes opened wide. ā€œGuess Iā€™m kind of like a boogeyman,ā€Ā 
Gojo can feel it. His body underneath his palms, gasping and struggling for air. He can feel his hands try to pry his hands off. He can feel his body slowly start to lose its air, how he deflates like a balloon. Gojo is unmoving, unfazed, unworried. Heā€™s near motionless except the hard grip of his hand on his neck and the pulse that slows gently under his palms.Ā 
It takes 5 minutes, maybe less, with all the strength in both his hands. Gojo isnā€™t counting. He holds on for maybe 2 minutes after that, just to make sure itā€™s not a fluke. He waits till the heart stops sounding in his ears and until the body is completely limp except for where Gojo is holding him away. He goes out sad. Useless, even.Ā 
When Gojo stops, Nobuā€™s body drops to the floor with a dull thud. He stares at it for a while, then sighs. Itā€™d be nice if he could just leave it there, but he does his due diligence. Picks it up from the ground with relative ease, over his shoulders.Ā 
He walks it out towards the dock - the very edge, before tossing it in water and watching it sink. When it disappears from his sight, Gojo is left with his reflection in the deep blue. He meets his eyes for the first time in weeks, and knows heā€™s seeing exactly what he thought he would.Ā 
His anger has settled, just barely. Just enough to be able to see the change in his own vision. With his Six Eyes, Gojo can see that thereā€™s no turning back.
Ā With his mask on, he looks at himself, warped in the vision of the sea. The vision of himā€”crystalline and white and blueā€”murky and moving.Ā 
Gojo jumps to the roof and turns the light on again. The power comes back.Ā 
A dog barks distantly, over and over and over. Gojo watches the sun rise alone.Ā 
__
The following weeks pass without a hitch. Gojo feels like nothing has changed.Ā 
(But thatā€™s not true. Everything is different. The same but different)
At the two week mark, winter has set in and Gojo is spending time with you in your apartment together. Currently, youā€™re cooking dinner (after carefully instructing Gojo to stay put in the living room.) Gojo is sitting watching T.V. Heā€™s helping you grade papers at the coffee table, humming to himself.Ā 
Itā€™s about 7 when the news starts to play. A local news channel and a familiar face on the T.V. Gojo is surprised when the breaking news report airs.Ā 
ā€œTwo weeks ago, a missing persons report was filed for ex-convict Nobu Watanbe. Sources say he was last seen working at a Dock in Tokyo - which experienced a power outage. Itā€™s reported that Nobu seemed to have gone missing at the time, and hasnā€™t made contact with anyone since then. Could this be the work of aā€¦ā€Ā 
The rest of the reportĀ  Gojo tunes out. He turns his head slightly to see if youā€™ve noticed. Your eyes are glued to it., standing and staring silently. You place your spatula on a towel on the counter.
ā€œWe got word about a week prior to this,ā€ You say, breaking the silence after some time without Gojo prompting. He looks at you ā€œAkio started coming with his mom again and she gave me the story. It wasnā€™t unusual for him to up and disappear, but he hadnā€™t done so since Akio was born,ā€Ā 
ā€œThat so?ā€ Gojo says, nonplussed. You nod.Ā 
ā€œI feel guilty but,ā€ You trail off, rubbing your arm anxiously ā€œI canā€™t help but beā€¦ relieved. Just a little. I donā€™t want the guy to be dead or anything, but it,ā€Ā 
Gojo stops you in the middle of your sentence.Ā 
ā€œYou donā€™t have anything you need to feel guilty about,ā€ He corrects, voice stern. You give him a sad look but he remains firm in his stance ā€œHe was harassing you for weeks. Itā€™s only natural that you feel relieved, you know?ā€Ā 
Youā€™re not entirely content with the response, but you seem to know well enough this isnā€™t something Gojo will compromise on. You sigh, looking down at the floor.Ā 
ā€œYeah. Thatā€™s true I guess, but still. I wonder what happened to him, or if he just decided to run away,ā€Ā 
Gojo pretends to think about it.Ā 
ā€œMaybe. Otherwiseā€¦guess it was Godā€™s divine punishment,ā€ He says, continuing to grade papers. He doesnā€™t even look up as he says it. You let out a puff of air through your nose in amusement .Ā 
ā€œYeah,ā€ You say, ā€œMaybe. I should thank him some time,ā€
Gojo hums.
ā€œI donā€™t think thatā€™s a bad idea,ā€Ā 
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lockandkeyhyena Ā· 10 months ago
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some more exploratory sketches. while the story itself focuses on the aftermath of the abuse, i wanted to get down my ideas for the dynamic that occurred during the abuse.
alvin is a very self-pitying character, he uses his low self esteem to manipulate others into doing things for him because they feel sorry for him. he genuinely believes he deserves to get whatever he wants because he had a sad childhood and has convinced himself of his own excuses. he believes what heā€™s saying in the final image, because to face the truth of his actions would be too much to bear. however heā€™s more scared of getting caught than at the concept that heā€™s hurting someone.
he would frequently guilt trip ethan into doing whatever he wanted, followed up by rewarding him with good grades and gifts. ethan really looked up to him and viewed him as one of the very few trustworthy adult figures in his life.
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marblebagcollective Ā· 1 year ago
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cprimetober day 1 - its not kidnapping if you make the rules
every time i think abt kidnapping in relation to these guys and exile i think abt this scene and dialouge bc of some analysis post from a while ago
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cosmitasia Ā· 6 months ago
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Ig this is both a request and a question, but what wouldā€™ve happened if Ness didnā€™t save Paula from the Happy Happyists? Or at least what you think wouldā€™ve happened
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I've actually thought about this quite a bit and I've still been mulling it over in my head for the Nothing's Set in Stone (No Buzz Buzz/Prophecy) AU in particular-
One option I've heavily considered is a follow up on her "If you didn't come, I'd have to bust out of here" line, and I envision her burning the cabin down and taking on the happy happyists herself, teaming up with Ness to take them down when he gets there, or just returning home, depending on the reason why Ness didn't arrive.
The other thing I've considered is her actually becoming part of happy happyism, but I've been trying to think of a scenario in which there's something about the cult that actually appeals to her.
I couldn't really come up with a reason it'd appeal to her though, but I haven't thought about it for that long, I just thought if there was actually something to tie back into her personality it'd be more interesting than it being plain brainwashing from the mani mani statue.
That's actually something I generally like reinterpreting from Earthbound, is not quite taking people saying they were influenced by Giygas/Mani Mani at face value, but they're using it to excuse their actions and explain their darker impulses, and there is still something within their heart that would drive them to horrible places.
I still imagine Giygas/Mani Mani has an influence, but I like to think it doesn't make people act completely out of character or rob them of agency, it just feeds on their negativity to make them be the worst they can be within their preexisting motivations.
Yeah. I don't have a solid answer but I do have jumbled thoughts.
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abbacchiosbelt Ā· 2 years ago
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M-2 for Johnny Joestar?
CW for yandere content, manipulation, mention of misogynistic behavior, and allusions to violence. 18+ only.
Prompt: ā€œIf you leave me now Iā€™ll die. I canā€™t survive without you.ā€Ā 
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It hadn't been a mistake to participate in the Steel Ball Run. The money, even outside of first place, would have been life-changing. It had been a mistake, though, to ride alongside Johnny Joestar and Gyro Zeppeli. The two of them attracted trouble like nothing else, and you were forced to become tangled up in their web.
It was you who they turned to after another fight to patch up their wounds. It was you who fielded their fighting and complaining. Despite how much you took care of them, they showed you little respect. Gyro brushed aside your knowledge and would often imply you were the reason for their bad luck... But if you tried to set off on your own, Johnny would beg and plead for you to stay. He'd tell you that Gyro really did appreciate you, and like a fool, you'd believe him. They took advantage of your kindness and used the harsh nature of the race to goad you into staying.
You stayed, then. Convinced yourself that they were right and that their protection was a reward for you taking care of them even though they were perfectly capable of doing it themselves.
You stayed with them and watched Gyro die; watched as Johnny killed Funny Valentine and protected Lucy Steel. You watched, too, as your chance at winning whilst Johnny fought for his life. You don't know why you stayed... you could have taken off in the confusion. Could have potentially placed in the Top 5, but instead, you'd followed Johnny to the end.
You'd followed him home at his request, waiting for him while he returned Gyro to his homeland.
And here you were, 2 months after Johnny had returned. You were standing above your bed, frozen, with your suitcase open in front of you.
Johnny was standing just inside the doorframe, his grip on his cane white-knuckled. His pale, freckled cheeks were flushed pink with frustration, and his lips were downturned into a pout you'd grown very used to.
He'd caught you trying to leave.
"Going somewhere?" Johnny's voice is cold when he speaks. It scared you, honestly, how cool and collected he was when he was angry. You would have liked it more if he had pleaded and cried, but this... This was scary. He takes a step forward, cane tapping against the floor, and you flinch. Johnny scoffs. "Really? Scared a'me?"
You turn to face him, your lips were drawn in a tight line across your face. "No," you lie. "Just startled me. I thought you would be too tired for the cane today." Johnny had been able to regain some strength after the 'miracle' at the end of the race he refused to elaborate about. He'd go until he was tired, though, and you'd encouraged him to use his chair if he needed it. Pride kept him from taking care of himself, and he expected you to keep an eye on him instead.
"Nah." Johnny steps forward until he's directly next to you. Without a word, he sits next to your suitcase on the bed and begins to take what clothes you'd managed to pack out one by one.
His silence unnerves you.
"Johnny, it's not what you think." You start, knowing it was a lie. "I just... I want to see my family. It's been over a year now." You pause, and then continue, hoping to appeal to him. "I need to see them. You get it, right?"
Johnny freezes and slowly turns his head to look at you. "Is that so?" He stares at you and narrows his eyes. "Did you forget? I'm your family now. If you went..." Johnny's expression turns from anger to sorrow. "I'd be all alone again."
"Johnny..." You call his name softly. You knew what he was doing, but you felt powerless to stop it. "I'd come back." Another lie. "It'd just be for a week or so."
It'd be permanent.
Johnny gives you a long, hard look before he stands from the bed. He wraps his arms around your waist and forces you to sit on the bed, stepping in between your legs so he can look down at you. He holds your gaze until you avert your eyes, anxious.
"Look at me." Johnny says. He brings one of his hands up to cup your cheek, calloused fingertips skimming across your skin. There's a look in his eyes now that you can't quite place, and somehow, they look different. "If you leave me now, I'll die. I can't survive without you."
Your stomach drops. Johnny had said many things... but he'd never threatened that. You feel frozen under his touch, his thumb stroking soft lines across your cheek. "I... Johnny..." You struggle with your words, unsure of what to say. What could you say?
"All I need 'ta hear is that you won't leave me." Johhny brings up his other hand so that your face is cupped on both sides. It feels patronizing. "You're not going to go now, right?" Johnny pinches your cheeks and grins. His sudden shift in mood meant that he knew he'd already won. Of course you wouldn't go. How could you, after that?
"I won't leave you." You affirm, leaning away from his touch. Johnny drops his hands from your face and instead sits back on the bed, his body pressed up against yours. His arm comes to wrap around your shoulder, and you're suddenly reminded of the preternatural strength you'd seen from him more than once. A chill runs down your spine. Would he ever hurt you...? You swallow, your throat suddenly dry, and add, "I'm not going to go."
Johnny sighs in contentment, accepting your answer. The arm around you squeezes gently as he leans in to lay his head against your shoulder.
"Glad ya know you're all mine."
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starsinthenigth Ā· 2 months ago
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Momohiki Ash (OC) x Yandere!Rise!Donatello Hamato Headcanons !!
ā˜…pulled straight from my wat-padd accountā˜…
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ā€” |āœ·| REQUESTED & ORIGINAL CHARACTER BY: @ash1kun !!
ā€” |āœ·| ROMANTIC OR PLATONIC: romantic.-
ā€”|āœ·| TROPES: yandere x oc, fluff. . . I think.-
ā€” |āœ·| TRIGGER WARNING: Subtle mention of stalking, trackers, overprotective themes, subtle murder implication (??), manipulation (I think??), hints of isolation (??), themes of violence at some point-
ā€” |āœ·| CONTENT WARNING: Donatello and the OC may be OCC.. So, I apologise in advance for that, me saying 'maybe' and 'migth' WAYYYY too many times.-
ā€” |āœ·| NOTES: I might repeat certain words over and over since my dum-dum brain can't think of synonyms. And I refuse to search up the synonyms up on Google. Once again, I'm sorry if both characters are OCC. Also, any form criticism is welcome, along with advices. Please point out if I made any sort of mistake uur, yeah.-
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ā€” |ā˜†| Alright, so, with Ash Momohiki being the same species of turtle as Donatello, aka, a softshell one, the first thing that came to my mind is that- erm, Donnie would make them their very own Battle Shell as well. -
ā€”|ā˜†| Of course he filled it up with all of his lover's favourite things, along with notes about their shared interests and stuff. He, as well, made sure it keeps em' safe while they are outside or near danger. Not only via protecting their shell though, but he also made sure that whatever enemy crosses their way, let's just say, urh, won't bother them again. As his creative genius mind had an idea to make an. Ahem. 'Automatic Battle Shell' for them !! Meaning it will activate when a hatred individual or enemy, such as, the Purple Dragons, are near. -
ā€” |ā˜†| Maybe, for extra measures of safety, he might add a som erm, equipment, to his partner's tech-pet, Plut!! Although, he might- well, he will ask for Ash's permission for him to further advance Plut. He might add more weapons to the little..well, massive- tech-dragon than he already has, maybe even a tracker. Or two. Or three. Or four. He will absolutely make sure that he won't damage or malfunction Plutonium in any way, though, he promises !!
ā€” |ā˜†| .. however, he could, with what I assume would be a heavy heart- make a few sneaky adjustments to Plut's personality. Y'know, to make sure that Ash doesn't spend all of their time with their tech-child. He swears it's not that of crucial change, he swears -
ā€” |ā˜†| Maybe his tech will make them admire him, and his genius mindset even more than they already do. He might keep his partner in his lab, disguising the fact that he wants em to stay for longer via giving long, long excited rambles about his tech and interests. Of course, he will let Ash ramble and infodump about everything they like as well. Though, it's not only because he just wants their presence near him, he also likes to see them happy and excitedly spout out about their likings, as well as their own pieces of technology and inventions. Perhaps letting them express themselves through their own ways and preferences might just be one of the few, if not only things that get them show positive emotions. Or maybe, perhaps he could extract anger or jealousy out of them, since they could possibly have things in common that may not be so likeable, or maybe even people.-
ā€” |ā˜†| I can honestly see Donnie expressing his hatred to Ash about the Purple Dragon's tech club and once he finds out that they- as well hate them and that consider them pests, he might just get a boost to plot against them.. or make more plots against the those satin wrapped punks, that is. I doubt that any form of hesitation to cause any sort of trouble, or perhaps even violence to those stuck-up jerks would still linger in his brain honestly, especially if Ash themselves, express violent thoughts towards them. Or just a little bit of disliking towards the Purple Dragons is enough to give them one more reason into hunting 'em down, I suppose.-
ā€” |ā˜†| Another excuse to get 'em to stay might be through, well, playdates.. with S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N and Plutonium that is. Maybe the two will watch over them. Maybe Ash will stay as well, since I doubt that they would strife away from their child-like figure and that, for Donatello, is a win, since they get to spend more time in the safety and comfort of his lab !!- |ā˜†| He will as well make positive little comments about them and their work, maybe give them more praise with each passing day. Praise that might slowly escalate to him trying to convince Ash that he might be the only who sees their actual worth. Although, he'd do it through little hints and stuff and he won't be straight forward with it. Not for now at least.-
ā€” |ā˜†| Oh, he learns about their intrusive thoughts that they get while they are being alone?? Oh no no no. He can't possibly have his own partner be tormented by such dark thoughts. He is going to stay close to them for as long as humanly, or mutant-ly possible. Their situation kind of reminds me of when Raph is alone and he becomes 'Savage Raph', so he might try to help them through ways that he would help his older brother. However, I feel like making mental notes and, erh, documenting about stuff that they could do in order to calm down, may be more suitable for them. -
ā€” |ā˜†| Although, their own tormenting and dark imaginations could be used as a weapon against them. He might use it as a punishment for them if they ever, well, try to leave him. Maybe if they start noticing the little changes in his personality that is. I'm not sure. Sure, guilt might roll in him for leaving his lover in such a state, but hey, he will surely find a way to calm them down soon. So, he shoves the liability of his actions away, and his mind starts swarming around to collect all of the countless stuff and little habits that he has mentally kept about them. So, hopefully or most likely, trying to find what calms them down should be easier now. While seeing them struggle to regulate their own emotions, which is something that he himself understands, he also doesn't want them walking out on him. No, not when he found someone that he deeply relates to and admires to no extent.-
ā€” |ā˜†| ..But he doesn't have to worry about that. Why would they leave if they are basically head over heels for him along with the praise that he gives them? After all, he and his brothers- well, mostly him, have filled their soul with the much needed and wanted hope that they lost. Plus, he could just be the only one present who will show them actual appreciation.
ā€” |ā˜†| Hm? Brothers who? Eh they don't understand much about tech and rarely care for it- despite them most likely giving warm hearted compliments about Ash's equipment- !! He understands them better, they both share the same likes and dislikes- they are both hunting and eating whatever praise is given to them !! So, since they love and understand each other, and since Donatello can keep them safe, is there really any need for them to walk out of his life?
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raehs Ā· 6 months ago
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you have no place in this story. you come from nothing. you are nothing.
PERSONALS DNI.
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rhysie Ā· 9 months ago
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along with rhysand being just the embodiment of night, just generally coming off as intimidating to people- and always being somewhat conniving, ect. i do think the mask he had to wear with amarantha is a hard transition to lose. he was forced to do horrible things, and even worse, act like he enjoyed it. after years of enduring this, he really had a lot of self doubt. why was he capable of doing this? yes, it was to protect everyone he cared about, he was doing what he had to. but would a genuinely good person be able to do what he did for so long? was he allowing himself to be turned into what amarantha wanted him to be? obviously, heā€™ll always carry the guilt of what heā€™s had to do. but i do think the lines got blurred there, and itā€™s hard for him to realize that he doesnā€™t have to act like that anymore. he doesnā€™t always have to be scheming, or lying, or hiding things - but after wearing that mask for so long, itā€™s very hard for him to be able to just act like himself again. i think itā€™ll be a long time before heā€™s able to drop this act completely, no matter how much heā€™s aware of it, and wants to stop ( because he feels like heā€™s letting her win, if he doesnā€™t. ) a part of that act has bled into who he is, and just a couple years of freedom afterwards is not enough for him to shed that completely.
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coulsonlives Ā· 1 year ago
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Unpopular opinion but these kinds of posts are insufferable.
Reblogging a post doesn't make you anti-nazi or anti-fascist, just like not reblogging it doesn't make you a nazi and a fascist. These peeps seriously gotta understand that not everyone wants this kinda thing on their blog. Maybe they're just blogging about art, or positivity, or they simply like looking back at all their posts when they're in a bad mood and don't want to see nazi ments. These peeps gotta realize that a lot of their followers are gonna unfollow because these posts are guilt trippy af and don't have any nuance.. not because they're nazis. A lot of people, including me, don't mind seeing 'we don't allow nazis and nazi rhetoric here', but draw the line at coercion. You can be against nazis at the same time you're against manipulative crap like this post, they're not mutually exclusive.
Reblogging a post that says you're against nazis? Cool beans! We should all be against nazis! I'm probably gonna reblog that too! But going with the virtue-signally dick move of 'reblog this or else you're a nazi degenerate uwu', and forcing people to reblog, is top-tier shitty coercion, it's manipulative, and it'll drive people with moral forms of OCD absolutely nuts.
Not to mention it'll drive a lot of people, ie. the considerate kind who don't put up with this shit, away from your blog, so yeah..
Don't reblog things like this if you want the right kinds of people to like you.
15 notes Ā· View notes
prettyboykatsuki Ā· 2 years ago
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HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO | PART 2
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āŠ¹ general tags ; fem + afab!reader, reader presents femininely and has some specific character traits (i.e. personality traits, nothing physical), reader is shorter / smaller than gojo but nothing specified, reader is a teacher, gojo carries reader at some point (but he is canonly able to do very insane things physically so)
āŠ¹ content warnings ; dead dove. do not eat, yandere gojo satoru, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, workplace harassment (not from gojo), victim blaming, canon typical violence, graphic depictions of murder, minor character death, excessive religious imagery, coercion, gaslighting, abuse of power, something akin to stockholm syndrome, graphic depiction of noncon / sexual content, forced intimacy, fingering, hickies / bruises, begging, edging, loss of virginity, size kink, 18+.
all sexual content present in this part.
MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF NONCON, COERCION, AND SEXUAL VIOLENCE.
āŠ¹ wc ; 18.4k / 36.1k
link to extended authors note | ao3 | how to be a dog, by andrew kane.
LINK TO PART ONE.
āŠ¹ a/n ; here's part two!! miss ame has read it so im all good to post. i will upload to ao3 as soon as im awake i promise lol. hope you enjoy the fic and please heed the tags. likes and rbs always appreciated. also the last part is, relatively tame. the crazy gets amped up to ten so be careful.
āŠ¹ synopsis ; with six eyes to see it becomes clear, you are being watched.
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"You must learn, once you have sampled the freedom of a life without a chain, that it is better to return and be chained again. Or you may learn that it is notā€”a fugitive is also a kind of dog." - andrew kane, how to be a dog.
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āŠ¹ PART TWO : SOMETHING TAKEN IS BORROWED. SOMETHING RUINED IS YOURS.Ā 
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Snow is falling outside. The world is covered in white.Ā 
Gojo Satoru sits on his hands and watches the blizzard outside from his window. His apartment is dark and thereā€™s frost on his window. He can hear the wind from inside, and can feel the cold chill of glass as he stands close to it.Ā Ā 
Snow is falling outside. The world is covered in white. Spring feels like an innocent century ago.Ā 
Nothingā€™s changed, but everything is different. Itā€™s starting to feel comedic. Itā€™s so cyclical. He has two states of being. Being with you, and not. It dictates his internal world. He functions the same as usual. Repetition. Working, coming home, and waiting.Ā 
Gojo feels like heā€™s waiting. Perpetually waiting for time to set again so he can see you. Thereā€™s something in him only you can fulfill - an itch only you can scratch. Gojo is drawn to irreplaceable people, so perhaps itā€™s no surprise that heā€™s latched onto you this way.Ā 
Thereā€™s nothing to call it other than greed. Sometimes love, but mostly greed. A habit he canā€™t break free from. Gojo wants to see you. He doesnā€™t know why either. Thereā€™s not any particular reason. Or if there is, he hasnā€™t examined it too deeply. Gojo has always known in some innate way that heā€™s lonely. That his loneliness makes him untouchable - but not in the same way it might make a God.Ā 
The thought of doing anything without you makes paranoia creep up in his throat like bile. Gojo is that sort of lonely. Is it too much to ask to be next to someone, who never goes anywhere he canā€™t see? Monopolizing your time and all the ways to do it best take up most of his energy.Ā 
When was the last time anyone made him feel warm, in the cold white of winter? He thinks maybe he realized it too late, that he cares about you this much.Ā 
The reality is that Jujutsu Sorcerers are better off learning how to cut their losses. You love people and they die. You like people and they die. Gojo doesnā€™t think he can accept that from you so easily. He doesnā€™t think he should have too.
Does he need a good reason to want to keep you?
Gojo doesnā€™t want to make you hate him. He just wants to make sure youā€™re alive even if it means you might hate him. You might never understand either. Because you are still foolish, naive and human. Is that really asking for so much?
It makes him hesitate from the call to action. That instinct in his bones. He sees having met you as a blessing from the Heavens whoā€™ve banished him. Gojo Satoru is not god. He understands God, but heā€™s not God.
No matter how much Gojo reaches for omnipotence, his long fingers canā€™t stretch towards it. Godliness is uninhabitable, an abandoned house. If Gojo casts his eyes on you for more than one second, he can do nothing but long. How can God long? Perhaps if he were more godlike, he could treat your inevitable death like a sacrifice. A martyrdom, or proof of your undying love for him.
Despite that, he understands how God's love can reach. Inciting violence to bring you closer to him is merciful. Itā€™s only then youā€™ll come to understand it to the highest extent. That Gojo loves you after all, more than anything mortal in his world. He can hold all of you in his hands, keep you safe for the rest of your life. Itā€™s what he wants so badly. If you just give him the chance to protect you - he could do it so easily.Ā 
Religion can be so much like a dog and its master. Maybe, you could understand Gojoā€™s feelings if you saw it as an animal instinct to protect you. Even if itā€™s a falsity, a fictitious tale, detached from what's true.Ā 
He doesnā€™t want you to hate him. Heā€™s your watch dog, your keeper, your divine love. He needs you all to himself and he needs you to understand that youā€™re his reprieve. That in a universe decided by fate, the two of you are also red strings knotted together perversely.Ā 
He needs you. He needs you. He needs you.Ā 
Snow is falling.Ā 
__
Come Saturday, Gojo receives a knock on his door.Ā 
Heā€™s usually sleeping in on the weekends, so heā€™s startled by it. School doesnā€™t start till later and if it was an emergency relating to sorcery - Yagi wouldā€™ve dialed him personally. He answers the door with sleep still in his, rubbing his eyelids as he yawns. Heā€™s dressed in his P.J.ā€™s with his hair messy and mind jumbled.Ā 
Heā€™s not unhappy though, when he opens the door up to see you. Youā€™ve got something in your arms, a bag it looks like and a look on your face that Gojo canā€™t decipher.Ā 
ā€œOh,ā€ He says after registering who heā€™s talking to you ā€œWhatā€™re you doing here so early?ā€Ā 
You sigh, deeply, rubbing your arm. That anxious little habit again, your eyes darting every which way.
ā€œA pipe broke in my apartment. Like, flooded the whole thing. Spent the whole morning scrounging my stuff together a-and I called maintenance but they wonā€™t be here for a while and.ā€ You stutter as you explain yourself and Gojo stares at you in confusion ā€œI need a place to stay but going back to my parents right now is gonna be so hard and plus thereā€™s work,ā€Ā 
Gojo soothes you silently, putting a hand up.Ā 
ā€œHey, calm down,ā€ He says first, smiling up at you. He reaches out to pat your head ā€œIā€™m here. Itā€™s okay. Slow down and tell me what's wrong?ā€Ā 
You sigh, closing your eyes and bracing yourself.Ā 
ā€œWould it be alright if I stayed with you? Just for a few days, until I figure this all out?ā€Ā 
If God exists, maybe this is his way of giving Gojo grace. Gojo takes a minute to pretend, leans against his door frame and watches you fidget anxiously. He blinks at you, the way your teeth are pressing into your lip. You fold underneath the pressure of his gaze easily. He hums and haws.
ā€œHm,ā€ He says, leaving you uncertain for as long as he can before you try to react. Heā€™s memorized all your tells by heart ā€œWell, thereā€™s no reason not to, right? Youā€™ll have to sleep in my bed though.ā€Ā 
He half-jokes, but not really. He waits on your reaction.Ā 
ā€œOh, uhm, then,ā€Ā 
He interrupts just then, raising his voice. You jump back.Ā 
ā€œJust kidding! Of course you can stay with me. Iā€™ll take the couch for a few days so donā€™t worry your pretty little head about it, okay? Stay as long as you like.ā€Ā 
You look relieved. It makes Gojo smile a bit watching you take a deep breath, leaning on the door frame as he stares.Ā 
ā€œWhat?ā€ You ask when you notice. He shakes his head.Ā 
ā€œItā€™s cute when you get nervous,ā€ He says, inhibitions lowered. You pout at him and Gojo has to stop himself from reaching forward to grab your face in his hands.Ā 
ā€œYouā€™re so mean,ā€ You say with a sigh, arms crossed over your chest ā€œI was really freaking out just now,ā€Ā 
ā€œI know, I know - but itā€™s kinda fun watching you fuss. Dunno. Maybe itā€™s cause Iā€™m sleepy,ā€Ā 
ā€œYou're wide awake right now!ā€ You point out. He snorts.Ā 
ā€œNoo, what? Iā€™m half-asleep right now,ā€Ā 
ā€œGojo,ā€ You whine, and he has to stop the blood rushing through his body ā€œLet me in? Please?ā€Ā 
ā€œTry Satoru. Sa-to-ru,ā€ He says. You frown at him, sighing as you rub your face.Ā 
ā€œSatoru,ā€ You say, hardly getting the syllables out ā€œL-let me in,ā€Ā 
He pats your head one more time as your frown deepens.Ā 
ā€œGood girl,ā€ He purrs, before switching his tone to a more lax one as he welcomes you ā€œCome on in!ā€Ā 
Another sigh of relief. Gojo finds it fascinating that you can find relief in his presence. It speaks to how well heā€™s been doing to make sure heā€™s acting in accordance to expectations. Despite how easy the opportunity has fallen into him, he doesnā€™t think itā€™s time yet. Youā€™re still skittish.
Still, he should get something out of your stay here. And he will, but he should let you settle in first. He gives you a hum as you shuffle inside, standing awkwardly in his living room. He shuts the door behind you and locks it up.Ā 
ā€œDonā€™t be so stiff,ā€ He says, waving a hand in the air before yawning ā€œMy home is your home. Be comfortable. Is there anything you need or wanna do?ā€Ā 
ā€œCould I borrow your shower?ā€Ā 
Gojo feels something pressing into his ribs at the idea of you using his thingsĀ  - sharp and sinful.Ā 
ā€œI was gonna shower this morning but, yā€™know.ā€ You gesture vaguely. Heā€™s quick to agree of course, nodding his head as he points in the general direction of the bathroom.
ā€œPretty sure our places are built the same so you should know where it is. The towels on the rack are all clean. Feel free to use anything in there and uhhh,ā€ He scratches his head unsure of what else he needs to add. Though heā€™s certain heā€™s missing something ā€œOh, and Iā€™ll give you some clothes,ā€Ā 
You flush at the sentiment. So maybe you do know what this seems like, at least on the surface. Gojo peers at you as you turn his words over, interjecting before you have a chance to refuse.Ā 
ā€œDonā€™t say no,ā€ He says, voice sing-songy. watching your expression morph into something nervous again. Maybe you caught it, because you certainly jump in your skin, but he switches into himself with ease.Ā  Over and over and over - startling you never gets less fun ā€œLet me play out my domestic fantasies a bit as compensation,ā€Ā 
ā€œThatā€™s a bad joke,ā€ You say, throat thick.
Ā You want to trust him donā€™t you? He wants to praise you for that.Ā 
ā€œAw, cā€™mon. Itā€™s lonely. Let me indulge a little,ā€ He begs with enough lightheartedness that you donā€™t run away.Ā 
ā€œGeez. I thought you were popular with the ladies,ā€ You try and joke back, though itā€™s stilted and awkward. He can tell youā€™re getting prepared to squeeze to theĀ  bathroom before the conversation is too much.Ā 
ā€œOld ladies do love me,ā€ He says contemplative. You elbow him lightly.Ā 
ā€œStupid.ā€
He gives you a soft smile as you pass by him.
ā€œIs there anything else that you need while youā€™re in there?ā€Ā 
ā€œI donā€™t think so,ā€ You reply back. Gojo watches you disappear into the hall, trailing after you silently. He waits, listening carefully for the sound of the shower to turn on.Ā 
When the water rushes, he follows you.Ā 
He almost has a conscious standing in front of the closed door. The water pressure in his apartment is a little higher than itā€™s supposed to be. The closed walls keep all the noise inside them, making it almost impossible to hear whatā€™s going on outside. Even with heightened senses like him.Ā 
For someone like you, itā€™s probably impossible.Ā 
Itā€™s knowing that he follows behind you, lying in wait. He counts up to 5Ā  minutes as he waits, letting you settle into it before he puts his hand on the door knob. He finds it unlocked. Heā€™s pleased with that.Ā 
You trust him, or you try too.Ā 
When he feels certain youā€™re relaxed, he opens the door. He could teleport in but itā€™s noisy. Steam plumes outward as the door opens. He looks around the bathroom. Your clothes are folded neatly, with your pants hanging on the rack next to you.Ā 
He stares at the fabric for a long time, contemplating what he has time for.Ā 
Ultimately, he suppresses whatever urges come up to do what he came for. Too many to count and even more that are risky to act on. Instead, he checks the tags of each piece, committing it to memory. After, he stares at the shower curtain until heā€™s sure he overstayed his welcome.Ā 
He leaves right after though, shutting the door just as quietly as he opened it.Ā 
The less you know the better. Gojo makes his way back into the living room.Ā 
He sits on his couch when heā€™s back. The sun hasnā€™t come up yet and heā€™s only turned on a single lamp for light. Itā€™s hard for him to describe how heā€™s feeling. Things have been different for weeks now, but proceeding normally hasnā€™t caused him too many issues. Strangely the sense of routine has been grounding.Ā 
Heā€™s been dealing with it better than he expected. For all of that restraint to unravel so quickly is funny.
Ā But, Gojo thinks, that everything leading up to now mustā€™ve been a sign. There are so many instances that befall him that feel aligned with fate. Heā€™s naive in thinking you're different. Heā€™s the only heir of the Gojo clan, the only one with the Six Eyes for nearly 400 years. He hears the water rush faintly through the walls of his apartment, picturing you trapped in those four walls. He thinks of how you met. Your proximity to each other.
Itā€™s only now and in such circumstances does he think that youā€™re the due that the universe is paying back to him. Robbed of everything, of every joy heā€™s ever had - itā€™s both righteous and fair to take you. Gojo doesnā€™t want you to hate him. Not necessarily.Ā 
But they always say in sickness and in health. Through the best of times and the worst. If you were made for him like he suspects (like he knows, believes deep down) then he thinks itā€™ll be fine. As long as it's you. As long as itā€™s yours. Even if you cry or scream, what matters to Gojo is that itā€™s yours. That heā€™s yours.Ā 
Holding back is starting to be too much. Gojoā€™s never been the type to sit on his hands and wait. Being scared is so much like starving. Deprivation like that always threatens to turn Gojo to ruin.Ā 
But like anything he does though, he canā€™t take the easy way out. Thereā€™s a method to the madness. An order even among his most disorderly actions, thereā€™s things that need to be done the right way for the best possible outcome. On less of a whim than it seems, Gojo decides that heā€™ll do his best to make that reality happen.Ā 
The thought settles in his body and suddenly heā€™s present again. He feels a pang of hunger in his stomach, causing him to stand to his feet. He feels lighter as he waltzes into the kitchen, whistling to himself on what he should make. Maybe crepes? Heā€™s not a skilled cook but heā€™s pretty good at making those.Ā 
At the very least, he thinks youā€™ll like them too. He proceeds into a normal-ish routine. He follows the motions of making breakfast as he hums to himself silently. Grabs a bowl from the cupboard, eggs and milk from the fridge, and flour from the pantry.Ā 
He thinks to himself, immersing himself in the practical ritual. His comment from earlier about domestic fantasies was a half-joke at best. Gojo really does want to do this kind of thing with you, and he doesnā€™t want to miss the opportunity to play the part either. Even if itā€™s temporary. Heā€™s giddy at the thought of doing this with you everyday, a warm fluttery feeling spreading through his body.Ā 
He grabs a whisk off of the wall as he dumps everything into an empty bowl, turning the heat of a non-stick low. He whistles a song he canā€™t remember the name of, cracking an egg on the metal edge.Ā 
Despite living in a nicer part of Tokyo, Gojo has yet to have an induction stove top. Itā€™s not uncommon to have gas for smaller, cheaper apartments. Most of the stovetops in the Jujutsu Tech dorms are gas and Gojo has no issue using them. He doesnā€™t cook for himself often in the first place, so heā€™s never thought to complain about it or get it changed.Ā 
Maybe he should. Once you live here, it might get inconvenient. The thing about gas stoves is that they never heat evenly. Itā€™s not impossible to work with, and the heat is easier to control - but induction lets every inch of the pan get hot the same way.
( He often thinks of the analogy for boiling a frog. If you put anything living in heat too directly, itā€™ll jump to save itself. But if you keep the heat tepid, gently raising the heat till it boils - itā€™ll let itself stay in the treacherous waters until the very end. Itā€™s best to keep the heat even. Itā€™s best to fix it sometime soon. )
The whisk makes a pleasant sound as it hits the bowl, metallic scratch softened by the presence of batter. He picks the whisk up and watches the yellow liquid drip off the edge, a hand over the pan. Still too cool to the touch, he clicks his teeth.Ā 
He waits, idly. The shower turns off, he hears, and feels his breath hitch. He has to steel himself, curb his enthusiasm.Ā 
Too much heat, and youā€™ll jump to save yourself.Ā 
Once the pan is hot enough, Gojo busies himself with cooking.Ā  It helps him distract himself, the monotony of pouring and flipping and waiting. He gets through almost 6 before he hears your feet pad gently across his hardwood floor, slipping into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around your neck.
Youā€™re wearing what seems like the only clothes you managed to bring. Gojo wonders how long itā€™ll last you. Despite it, he notices the way you smell. How you smell like all of his fancy bath products and soaps. Thereā€™s a twitch in his sweats that he barely gets under control. He lowers the heat and turns to you.Ā 
ā€œMorning,ā€ He says. You giggle a little.Ā 
ā€œMorning. Are you making breakfast?ā€Ā 
ā€œYes ma'am. The only thing I know how to make but,ā€ He puffs his chest up ā€œPretty good, Iā€™m told.ā€Ā 
You roll your eyes at him, but smile anyway
ā€œGuess Iā€™ll be the judge of that,ā€Ā 
ā€œThe audacity,ā€ He says, full of theatrics ā€œIā€™ll knock your socks off,ā€Ā 
ā€œOh, Iā€™m sure you will,ā€ You say, flippant and giggly. Gojo decides then, maybe, in its entirety. That heā€™ll have all of you and soon ā€œCan I help with anything?ā€
ā€œGet started on some coffee maybe,ā€Ā 
You nod your head and yawn.Ā 
ā€œSounds good to me,ā€Ā 
__Ā 
You decide to stay for a week.Ā 
More precisely, Gojo convinces you to stay for aĀ  week. Thatā€™s how long it will take for your apartment to get fixed completely. Concerned about inconveniencing him, you initially suggested 3 days - insisted you could find somewhere else or pay for a hotel for the rest of the time.
But Gojo insisted too. A week is more than fine (even longer would be better) and thereā€™s no reason for you to go out of your way. Hotels are expensive, your parents live out in the countryside, and itā€™s not like you canā€™t board with a friend for a few days right?Ā 
But wonā€™t that trouble you? Of course not. Gojo doesnā€™t mind at all. Itā€™s like having a week-long sleep-over.Ā 
I donā€™t have the stuff I need. Thatā€™s fine. Gojo can take care of it. He already bought some clothes for you, an act of kindness. He can get the rest too. You can consider it a favor, if you really want to be sure.Ā 
Are you sure? Of course heā€™s sure. More than sure. Youā€™re doing him a big favor, he assures with nothing but affection. Being alone at home is pretty boring, anyways. Whatā€™s sleeping in the same room when weā€™re neighbors?Ā 
Even with your unease, you agree to stay the whole week. Youā€™re weak to being convinced, and hard-pressed on not fighting about things Gojo is adamant on.Ā 
(Heā€™d be stupid not to notice how your earnesty makes you easy to exploit. Itā€™s a good thing itā€™s only Gojo who knows.)Ā 
The first day passes quietly. You and Gojo go to your respective jobs and greet each other when you get home. At home, things are simple. Domestic. Thereā€™s no other way to view it. You graded papers and looked over lesson plans in the living room while Gojo got in his daily sets - TV playing in the background with neither of you particularly tuned in. Gojo sleeps on the couch.Ā 
(He doesnā€™t make it a day without touching himself. The proximity is too much, too stimulating, and even with all of the restraint in the universe - itā€™s hard for him to stave it off.Ā  What you donā€™t know canā€™t hurt you. Alone under the moon, he thinks of what you look like when youā€™re embarrassed and spills into his hand.Ā 
Eventually, heā€™ll graduate to watching over you. You leave the door unlocked because youā€™re naive and Gojo stands with his cock in his fist, watching intently. You squirm in your sleep but you sleep deeply - because despite all the noise, you donā€™t stir one even once. He stops it from touching you, so close to your mouth, to your skin. )Ā 
On the second day of living together, the clothes Gojo bought you come to his door. Youā€™re not home when it arrives, so he waits until you are home to open it with you. You come home a little later than usual (parent-teacher conferences, apparently).Ā 
(ā€œI have a surprise for you!ā€ Gojo says, as finally comes back into the living room. Youā€™ve returned from your shower, onĀ  your last pair of PJā€™s. You blink at him softly, tilting your head to one side as he hands you a package.Ā 
ā€œFor me?ā€ You ask. Gojo nods, grinning.Ā 
ā€œFor you,ā€ He confirms. He walks with you as you set the box onto the coffee table. You stare at it for a minute, glancing up at Gojo. Your eyes search for your keys. Once you find them, you take the sharpest key and rip through the tape on the top of its sides. An unceremonious krrk sounds through the room, echoing in the dimly lit living room.Ā 
The clothes are wrapped in white, plastic packaging. You pick them individually, examining them closely. You look at Gojo again, more uncertain than before.
But Gojo shakes his head, nudging you towards opening the packages themselves. A promise to explain afterwards, silent in the air. You nod, confused, but do as he suggests. You rip the top open, dropping the thin plastic onto the table. More bags, this time clear. You repeat the action until the material flounces in your hands. You undo the careful folding for a minute, then stare at it.Ā 
ā€œ...Clothes?ā€ You repeat.Ā 
ā€œSurprise!ā€ He says with his usual silly cadence ā€œFor you, free of charge.ā€Ā 
A lot of things pass over your expression. Gojo watches each of them carefully, amused. He wonders what youā€™ll do. What youā€™re thinking, itā€™s a shame Gojo canā€™t read your mind.
ā€œHowā€™d you know my size?ā€ You say first, inquisitive but not accusatory. Gojo shrugs.Ā 
ā€œGuessed. Weā€™ve spent enough time together,ā€ He says noncommittally. Your face changes, like you donā€™t quite believe him. But thereā€™s not enough there for you to question him either. He can almost hear you narrate it in your head. The heart you wear on your sleeve, tender red and bleeding, thumps anxiously as you try to get a read on him. Itā€™s not a sound he dislikes.Ā 
Heā€™s been good to you. Heā€™s just being nice. You shake your head, regretful of your own doubt for a minute. You force a smile, and Gojo doesnā€™t hate it even though he knows where it comes from.Ā 
The power of love, he thinks almost whimsically.Ā 
ā€œThis is a big box. How much stuff did you even get?ā€ You repeat, noticing the contents are up to the top. He feigns indifference. Pretends not to know that he spent countless hours looking over it.Ā 
ā€œMm, dunno. Just whatever I thought youā€™d need.ā€Ā 
ā€œIā€™m only here for a week, Gojo.ā€ You mutter, hands grazing over the cardboard edge.
ā€œSo? Maybe you need a lot of stuff. I donā€™t know what women go through.ā€ He says with a pout, lips together. Joking with you to lighten the mood, which makes you huff through your nose.Ā 
ā€œYouā€™re so dumb. Itā€™s too much stuff,ā€
ā€œI already bought it and I donā€™t feel like returning it,ā€ He tells you, making it clear heā€™s not going to negotiate ā€œJust think of it as a gift from Santa Claus.ā€
You snort.Ā 
ā€œYou even have the hair,ā€ You reply. Trying to make yourself feel better in the process, Gojo gives you a half smile ā€œStill. I feel like Iā€™m really indebted to you, lately.ā€Ā 
ā€œYeah? You can count this week as one big favor, if that makes it easier.ā€Ā 
ā€œI donā€™t remember Santa doing favors for people,ā€ You quip. Gojo laughs.Ā 
ā€œChange in management,ā€Ā 
You laugh a real laugh at that, and Gojo watches you turn the situation over again and again.Ā 
ā€œWell. Thank you. Might as well look through the rest of it, huh?ā€Ā 
ā€œTake your time,ā€ Gojo says, before checking the digital clock on his wall ā€œI need to go get something from the store. Just leave the empty stuff next to the trash and Iā€™ll take it out tomorrow morning.ā€Ā 
ā€œOh, okay. Yeah. Iā€™ll start on dinner. See you, Gojo.ā€Ā 
ā€œYeah. See youā€ )Ā 
If you notice all the clothes come in shades of blue, youā€™re smart enough not to say anything.Ā 
The third day passes in a blur. Nothing notable, but heā€™s content. You wear the clothes Gojo bought you and heā€™s careful not to stare while you know. He takes it upon himself only to do it when he knows youā€™re asleep, his nightly routine staring over the bare inches of your body in a dark room being a reprieve of his other desires.Ā 
On the fourth day, he doesnā€™t have the restraint not to touch you. Too many days in the same room and he wants access to everything already. He hates being patient more than he thought, but thereā€™s a method to this - he has to remind himself.Ā 
Like taking out his aggression, he decides he needs more relief. Something to scratch the itch. With his infinity, you canā€™t feel his fingers ghosting over your legs. He checks if youā€™re wearing the other stuff he bought, settled at the bottom of the box. Not lingerie, but panties. Plain and cottony - white over your cunt as you sleep with your leg hiked up. Gojo knows you canā€™t feel him now, but part of him wants you too. He wants to know why youā€™re wearing them despite yourself. Gojo realizes too late that heā€™s interested in your misery just as much as he is everything else, and so far - that discovery has made everything all the more difficult.Ā 
On the fifth day, things proceed the same. Thereā€™s a routine youā€™ve settled into together despite the time limit on it. That night over dinner, you and Gojo spend time together. Thereā€™s not really much to do - itā€™s a Friday. Itā€™s the first time neither of you are completely occupied with any one task.Ā 
You get to talking like that. On the fifth day, Gojo gets as close to opening up as heā€™s ever gotten in his life. Part of him isnā€™t sure why he does it. He thinks heā€™s seeking confirmation for something, but what that could be is lost on him.Ā 
(ā€œSo, youā€™re the only person left in your clan?ā€ You ask, half-way through a glass of tea heā€™s sure has gone cold by now. The T.V. is on but muted. Gojo looks at you in the low lights, fighting his own sleep.
ā€œMhm. Technically, Iā€™m the sole heir.ā€ He replies.
ā€œ...Is it okay to ask what happened?ā€Ā 
Gojo laughs at you. You really canā€™t help your curiosity, but he still finds it amusing.
ā€œItā€™s not a pretty story,ā€ Gojo says honestly.Ā 
ā€œThatā€™s okay,ā€ You say, voice filled with an air of innocence that Gojo has a hard time wrapping his head around.Ā 
ā€œMost of them were wiped out. We had a lot of enemies, me included. A lot of them are dead, the remaining are somewhere far-away and have no combat abilities.ā€Ā 
ā€œYou included?ā€ You pick up on, naturally. Gojo nods and smiles a little.Ā 
ā€œOnce I inherited my technique it was pretty commonplace. I went through a lot of assassination attempts,ā€ He yawns in between, because this is an old, boring story ā€œIt took a lot of time for me to get strong enough to where I am now. But I got there eventually.ā€Ā 
ā€œYou say that so easily,ā€Ā 
Gojo peers at the frown on your face and laughs quietly to himself.Ā 
ā€œIt was a long time ago, now. I never really had a lot to mourn, except for when I was a teenager. Iā€™m used to it.ā€Ā 
For a long time, you remain completely silent. Gojo almost thinks youā€™re going to cry. He doesnā€™t know how to feel about that. Itā€™s proof of something. Of his ambivalence towards the idea of sympathy. Sure, itā€™s meaningless now for someone to feel bad for him. Itā€™s a pointless endeavor, because Gojo is a selfish dick and the strongest - and he knows both of those things intimately. He accepts them as part of himself in the same way, he doesnā€™t know what heā€™s like without being frivolous. Without being the strongest. The line between misery and character is paper thin and Gojo hasnā€™t known it since he was born.Ā 
Itā€™s especially pointless for you to feel bad for him, because heā€™s going to ruin that very innocence you hold in your heart before the week is over. Heā€™s going to do it with purpose and conviction. He wonā€™t feel remorseful about it at all.Ā 
Thereā€™s an irony to it. A dramatic irony that brings him closer to Godliness than heā€™s ever really been. Because Gojo knows that this conversation is confirmation that he needs you, just as much as he knows heā€™ll do anything to have you even if it means you can no longer look at him like this.Ā 
He wonders how long youā€™ll hold sympathy for him. He decides for now, thereā€™s no reason to not lean into it. It makes him happy that you care enough to feel sad. Even if itā€™s pointless. He doesnā€™t remember the last time someone did.Ā 
Maybe when he was 17.
ā€œYou look like youā€™re gonna cry.ā€ He says lightheartedly. Sincere in a way he hasnā€™t been in very well over 10 years. You sniffle.Ā 
ā€œHow are you not crying?ā€Ā 
ā€œI never cry.ā€ Gojo says smoothly, not blinking ā€œIā€™m a heartless bastard.ā€Ā 
ā€œThatā€™s not true.ā€ You say, almost exclaim, turning yourself to look at him so seriously. Itā€™s cute, he must admit, that youā€™re so sure on his character ā€œYouā€™re not heartless,ā€Ā 
ā€œBut I am a bastard,ā€ He clarifies, mischievous. And you pout, less eager to correct him on thatĀ 
ā€œ...Youā€™re not heartless. Clearly.ā€ You say again. Gojo laughs, a real laugh. He can feel it preemptively, how much heā€™ll cherish every minute of this conversation. He hums.Ā 
ā€œOho, you almost sound like youā€™re defending me.ā€Ā 
ā€œFrom yourself, I guess. I know youā€™re not heartless,ā€ You say, with some kind of clarity that you have him figured out. Maybe you do. Itā€™s a little shocking. Itā€™s not usually how this goes ā€œYouā€™reā€¦weird. But you careā€Ā 
ā€œThatā€™s true,ā€ Because it is, and Gojo has no reason to lie to you right now. ā€œMore than that, Iā€™m hung up on the idea of the future.ā€Ā 
ā€œIsnā€™t it usually being hung-up on the past?ā€Ā 
ā€œRight? Usually, thatā€™d be the case,ā€ Gojo says, unsure of what to express ā€œBut the past is the past. I canā€™t go back to it. My technique is infinity. It means I can see infinite realities.ā€Ā 
You sound like the winds been knocked out of you ā€œThatā€™s terrifying,ā€Ā 
ā€œIt is. But you know, even in those realities, the past is the past. There are places where the past hasnā€™t happened. But it canā€™t be changed. It becomes part of infinity, when events occur. The only thing that can be changed is the future,ā€ Gojo explains, though he leaves out so many intricacies ā€œThereā€™s a future I want to see. Iā€™d like if my students could see it too,ā€Ā 
ā€œBecause of your friend, right?ā€Ā 
Gojo smiles.Ā 
ā€œBecause of my friend. And for less selfless reasons.ā€Ā 
ā€œLike?ā€ You ask, curious.Ā 
ā€œI like being able to do whatever I want, without consequences. Being strong lets me do that. For now itā€™s up to me, but eventually, I can raise strong comrades.ā€Ā 
Youā€™re silent for a while, again.Ā 
ā€œSeems lonely,ā€ You say, simply. Easily. Itā€™s true, and he knows that. Itā€™s the most obvious thing in the world, and youā€™ve said it with little regard for anything. Almost mindlessly, a natural response to such a sad story.Ā 
Gojo feels it again. Those stifling, pesky emotions that linger in the cavity of his ribs. He canā€™t bring himself to be honest, because when does he ever? But he does smile again, a little more melancholy than usual. You notice, certainly, but you have the courtesy not to say a word.Ā 
ā€œYou think so?ā€ Gojo says, passive and wilfully ignorant ā€œDoes it make you wanna hug and console me?ā€
He offers it sarcastically, but you donā€™t tear your eyes away from him. Itā€™s almost enough to shake him. Almost.Ā 
ā€œ...A little? You feel like a sad dog in the rain.ā€ You say, too honestly.
ā€œJeez. Maybe you just miss Pokupan. Thinking about another man right in front of me. I canā€™t believe Iā€™m the other woman,ā€ He says, with a faux pout.Ā 
You laugh, though itā€™s laced with sympathy. Gojo can tell you want to fuss. That you want to admonish him for being the way he is, and heā€™s almost willing to let you. Thatā€™s just the thing.
Ā You see Gojo as human, still.Ā 
Gojo Satoru isnā€™t God. But he isnā€™t human either. If you want to know how God lives, asking Gojo is always viable. But you shouldnā€™t mistake false omnipotence for forgiveness, like you are now. You see Gojo for all of his humanity, but you're blind to his divinely violent tendencies. You will be until itā€™s too late.Ā 
So, Gojo doesnā€™t think you need to comfort him how youā€™re thinking you should. Gojo wants you to depend on him. Because coveting you is an affair distinctly inhuman and crueler than even the heavens could be and he believes that youā€™re owed to him.Ā 
Ā Gojo wants to protect this version of you, even at the sake of corrupting it. He doesnā€™t want to let you go ever, for any reason. And he wont.Ā 
He turns the heat up gently. Youā€™re none-the-wiser. The night swallows you both, but Gojo will remain untouched. Heā€™ll hold you when it inevitably spits you back out. When reality washes into you, you shouldā€™ve trusted your gut after all.Ā 
For now, he smiles at you.Ā 
ā€œIf itā€™s any consolation, Iā€™d be very sad if you disappeared.ā€ Which Gojo hopes you can interpret without his interference. It seems like you do, because you smile to yourself.Ā 
ā€œMe too,ā€ You reply. Gojo knows heā€™s going to ruin you. ā€œIā€™d be really sad if you disappeared, Gojo. So, donā€™t, okay?ā€Ā 
And if Gojo were an honest person, or a good one - heā€™d tell you youā€™re the last person who should worry about missing him. That youā€™ll be seeing him for a long time.Ā 
But heā€™s neither, just like heā€™s not god or man. He lightens his tone and holds out his pinky, which you link with his.Ā 
ā€œScouts honor,ā€
When heā€™s ready to look away, you pull a bare thread from Gojoā€™s clothes. Frowning at him, as you dust away the fabric with your hand. He stares at you.Ā 
ā€œWhat was that?ā€Ā 
ā€œYou had a thread loose,ā€ You say simply, unconcerned with anything ā€œI just pulled it off.ā€Ā 
Gojo stares.Ā 
ā€œYeah. Thanks.ā€)Ā 
The sixth day passes quickly. Gojo doesnā€™t think thereā€™s anything worthy of saying. By then the routine is so practiced and so constant. The sixth day passes like a shadow in the night, disappearing through the woods before morning comes. A stepping stone.Ā 
Today is the 7th day.Ā 
On the 7th day, things are different. The same but different as they so often are. You donā€™t have work today, so you do what youā€™ve been doing. You and Gojo work in proximity to each other, share meals, and idly watch T.V.Ā Ā 
Night falls on the 7th day.
Gojo wants to take part in the act of creation, as the sun dips below the horizon. Heā€™d set this in motion when the week started and now that itā€™s here - the anticipation is too much to bear. When Gojo Satoru sets himself out to be conqueror, the universe trembles at the sight of him. Thereā€™s no sound at all. The night reeks of death, in Gojoā€™s presence it trembles. Too fearsome to speak.Ā 
Night falls today. Gojo starts his usual routine with less caution than heā€™s had the previous six. Where he usually bides his time and enters the room carefully - today he merely enters. He places his hand on the silver handle and pushes it open. A breath rushes from his lungs, adrenaline entering his system as he steps inside. His room has felt so unfamiliar to him lately, but like this - a sense of serenity washes over him.Ā 
He stares at you. With his Six Eyes, with vision clear as ever, Gojo looks onto you as you are now. You can never reconstruct a flower crushed under steel boots. Youā€™re not mud or earth, not adaptable like the sea. From the moment heā€™s met you - Gojo has known you to be so much like a flower. Gojo has never wanted to take the petals off of something so much in his life.Ā 
And Gojo is in this instance, a natural disaster ready to pluck the root of you up from the ground. Heā€™ll pick you up in a storm but return you to his feet. Thereā€™s a method to this. Gojo stares at your silhouette wrapped and tangled in his sheets, body so loosely dressed. Your visible figure rests easy.Ā 
The night is glorious and silent. Gojo watches on in some cross of indifference and utter starvation. He blinks, leans on the wall.Ā 
Like a call from fate, you start to stir awake.
Gojo moves towards you. He decides it might be easier just to join you in bed,Ā  so he gently works himself into the sheets.. He creeps towards you slowly, and re-familiarizes himself with the feeling of his bed. Itā€™d be lost on him for a week, but your presence in it makes it feel especially brand new. The bed dips under his weight, creaking. You shift lethargically, turning your head to look at Gojo.Ā 
You look startled once you realize. For the first time in your entire relationship, it seems to dawn on you that something is wrong. Just a minute too late. He gives you a second to wake up. Your breath hitches, a stifled gasp as you greet Gojoā€™s expression.Ā 
The hunger in his stomach is gnawing. Gojo feels like heā€™s starving. He thinks doing this will only half-way relieve the urge. This part of Gojo is inhuman as the rest of him.Ā 
Gojoā€™s presence suffocates you so much in the moment, you can only barely open your lips to say your next words.Ā 
ā€œWhat are you doing here?ā€ You sound still innocent. Gojo smiles briefly, under the glow of the moon. He can see your expression clearly. Sleep in your vision. A sheerness to your skin that comes with rest. Your bags are packed, and your things are cleared from his bathroom. Youā€™re still wearing the clothes he bought.Ā 
He knows he shouldnā€™t think it, but some part of him is vindicated. Youā€™re leaving him today and Gojo finds abandonment to be the highest betrayal of them all. So, heā€™s vindicated. He licks his teeth, usual mirth coming back to him.Ā 
Then he talks, his voice tender.Ā 
ā€œGetting my debts repaid,ā€ And he means it, more than heā€™s ever meant anything heā€™s said ā€œYou owe me one, remember?ā€Ā 
It dawns on you. Realization flickers in your eyes before it twists into fear. Gojo wants to encourage it. A curse starts to form, like tendrils around you. Youā€™ll leave it here when youā€™re gone in the morning and Gojo will have a piece of you left with him.Ā 
ā€œW-what are youā€¦? What do you mean?ā€Ā 
Heā€™s shrill, almost, leaning close to you. His sudden proximity makes you freeze. You know better, know so clearly it stops you from running. Gojo is tempted to see if youā€™ll do it. If youā€™ll run or if youā€™ll thrash or if youā€™ll fight. Heā€™s not particularly sadistic, but he likes you - and heā€™s curious to know what your reaction will be to something like this.Ā 
He eases you into it, He brushes his knuckles over your cheek as your heart sky-rockets like youā€™re being hunted. Gojo thinks he ought to be gentle with you. Regardless of how this is happening, itā€™s your first time together. Your fingers tremble as you reach up to grab his wrist. It seems like youā€™re trying hard to pull him off, and wiggle away from his grip. You ready yourself to give him push back and Gojo times it so that it seems like youā€™ll be able to break free.Ā 
But Gojo is strong. Stronger than you by a lot, and you know that by now. When he finds that youā€™re trying to escape him, heā€™s quick to grab your wrists with his hands. They both fit perfectly in his palms. He pulls them up over your head and your eyes widen as you feel his grip - near bruising (though he is trying so hard to be gentle) on your body. He stares down at you.Ā 
You look so frightened.
ā€œWh-what are you..?ā€Ā 
ā€œYou owe me one for letting you stay here, right?ā€ He asks enthusiastically, licking his teeth. Your eyes widen ā€œIā€™ll take this as compensation, okay? Itā€™s a good deal for us both I think,ā€Ā 
ā€œI donā€™t,ā€ You squirm underneath him ā€œI donā€™tā€”I,ā€Ā 
ā€œShh,ā€ He quiets you, humming softly ā€œDonā€™t overcomplicate it. Just wanna see you,ā€
Gojo watches you turn it over in your head. He was wondering about this. Whatā€™d you do in these circumstances. If youā€™d act like you always do, pleasant and pliable trying to do what's best. Damage control for what's coming.Ā 
Gojo pulls his hands away to undress you and yours fly to his shoulder blades. You heave as you push, mumbling something about how he doesnā€™t need to do this. Your expression is grief-stricken. Gojo soothes you.Ā 
ā€œYou can bite, scratch, kick, scream - whatever works,ā€ Gojo says, communicating his affection as best he can. He drives his hands under your shirt, laying his palm flat over the skin of your stomach. He runs his thumbs over your sides, committing every inch of you to memory. Without his infinity, Gojo feels every part of you ā€œItā€™s not gonna hurt me,ā€Ā 
You look like youā€™re at a loss for words. He gives you a warm grin.Ā 
ā€œMaybe weā€™re going about this all wrong,ā€ Gojo says after some thought ā€œIs this your first time?ā€Ā 
You whimper, nodding meekly. GojoĀ  groans against your skin. You flinch.Ā 
ā€œFuck, course it is. Shoulda known. Such a sheltered girl like you,ā€ He adds the last part with a hint of condescension, watching your face curl up into a frown.Ā 
ā€œDidnā€™t say it was a bad thing you know,ā€ Gojo is careful as he pulls your shirt higher and higher. Your breath is being held, afraid of whatā€™ll happen if you let g.o ā€œWeā€™re tied together like this. Isnā€™t that nice?ā€Ā 
ā€œGojo,ā€ You say, swallowing something. Words that threaten to bubble up that you canā€™t find the strength to say. Youā€™re not wearing anything underneath and Gojo feels a chill in his spine ā€œPlease,ā€Ā 
ā€œNot wearing a thing even though youā€™ve been sleeping at a man's house all week,ā€ He reprimands. He lets the material sit over the swell of your chest, just under your neck where it stays. He can see the outline of your tits clearly now, just enough light from the open window to illuminate your skin. Your nipples are hard, heaving. Gojo can hear your little heartbeat thump against your ribs ā€œIā€™m not telling you off you know? Iā€™m glad you trust me. Great job, on that really. But you really should be more careful.ā€Ā 
ā€œGojo,ā€ You plead again, throaty. The sound goes through his system, sends blood rushing to his cock.Ā Ā 
ā€œSatoru,ā€ He insists on, knowing it will take more than that to convince him ā€œIā€™ll try and listen to your requests if you say Satoru,ā€Ā 
He doesnā€™t promise to stop, because he doesnā€™t think heā€™d be able to follow up on it. Still, with the level of desperation you show - Gojo thinks itā€™s worth it to gain something out of. You follow up his request almost instantly, lips wrapping around the syllables with a weak breath.Ā 
ā€œS-Satoru,ā€Ā 
He gestures to take your shirt off. Youā€™ve become more pliable, if only a little, letting Gojo see all of you completely bare as he tosses his clothes somewhere onto the floor. Shameless in viewing you, your instincts kick in to cover your chest. He clicks his teeth, pushing your wrists together again over your head.Ā 
ā€œThat wonā€™t do,ā€ He coos at you softly ā€œI wanna see you. All of you,ā€Ā 
You hiccup, sobbing, Gojo reaches his palms towards your breasts, cupping them gently. Your nipples rub against his palms and he groans feeling how soft you are.Ā 
ā€œSo pretty,ā€ He admires you. Means it. Gojo lets his gaze catch on the edges and curves of you with enthusiasm. Your chest is sensitive to his touch, thumb and forefinger tweaking and teasing your nipples as you remain underneath him obediently. Your eyes look so watery, soft like lilies in freshwater ā€œSo cute,ā€Ā 
ā€œSatoru, please, I donā€™tā€”donā€™t wantā€”ā€Ā 
ā€œSo ungrateful,ā€ He tsks. He smacks your chest lightly, enough to make you squeal ā€œThatā€™s the only request I canā€™t listen to,ā€Ā 
You hiccup, looking away. Gojo hums as he hovers over you, seated over your figure. He pulls his mask off from his eyes, material falling into his fingers. Grabbing your wrists with his palms, he wraps the material around them - tight enough to keep you but with enough room so it doesnā€™t hurt. He places your hands over your head gently, kissing your covered wrists.Ā 
ā€œDonā€™t squirm too much, ā€˜kay? Stay like that. Iā€™ll make you feel good.ā€Ā 
ā€œI donā€™t,ā€Ā 
ā€œHey,ā€ This time heā€™s stern, and you slink back into yourself. Itā€™s the first time heā€™s had to use this tone on you and hopefully the last ā€œWhatā€™d I say? You owe me this much, donā€™t you think? After everything Iā€™ve done for you, the least you can do is not turn me away. Itā€™s not like I wanna do anything bad with you, yā€™knowā€Ā 
A pang of guilt passes through you. You stop squirming. Gojo keens, baring his teeth as he smiles.Ā 
ā€œGood girl.ā€ He dips his head to kiss the place under your ear, where your neck meets your jaw. He scrapes his teeth on the skin so you can feel his teeth over your pulse ā€œYou learn quick.ā€Ā 
You keep your arms over your head like heā€™s asked, hesitant and stiff. Gojo can work with that at least. He leans towards you, tipping your jaw so youā€™re forced to look at him. Tear-eyed and whimpering, a shudder passes through him.Ā 
ā€œSo pretty,ā€ He mumbles. He leans forward, presses his lips to yours - hand resting on the base of your neck. You make a noise of indignance but Gojo keeps you there. He eases you into obedience, forcing his tongue in your mouth, grazing the inside of your mouth.Ā 
He swallows every sound you make. Distress and frustration and reluctance lend themselves to giving inĀ  easily. Your body is sensitive to touch, a trail of goosebumps where his hands touch you. On your waist, trying to ease you into it.Ā 
He pulls away from you, a string of saliva connecting you.Ā 
ā€œFirst kiss?ā€ He asks. You shy away, clamping your mouth shut. Gojo chuckles, teeth nipping at you ā€œDidnā€™t say it was a bad thing.ā€
You remain silent, so Gojo fills the space.Ā 
ā€œMm,ā€ Gojo presses kisses down the curve of your jaw, all the way down your neck where he stops and bites - hard enough for something to be there tomorrow. He undresses the rest of you. You try to resist this time too, but Gojo doesnā€™t bother putting up a show. Itā€™s easy to overpower you. He tugs your shorts off with your panties and tosses them somewhere. Unceremonious and uncharacteristically impatient.Ā 
He takes his time now that youā€™re all naked. Itā€™s thrilling to watch distress fill your lungs, a ballooned breath and muffled protest. Gojo sucks hickies into your bare skin. Itā€™s only fair to give you something to look at while youā€™re departed. Your blood rushes, capillaries breaking under the hardness of his incisorsĀ  - ridges pushed against your delicate skin. He licks the bruises afterwards, kisses them tenderly.Ā 
ā€œGonna be a little sore for a while,ā€ He says warmly. Youā€™ve hit the stage of grief where youā€™re angry and resilient again but one look from Gojo is enough to make you slink back ā€œMight as well enjoy yourself.ā€Ā 
Despair flashes in your expression.Ā 
ā€œI mean it, you know.ā€ He offers, stating it like heā€™s trying to appease you ā€œYou should relax a little, let it roll off your shoulders.ā€Ā 
It seems like you register that Gojo is teasing you. He does mean it, about thinking you should enjoy it. Everything else is deliberate and you know as much. Itā€™s good youā€™re starting to understand him a little better.Ā 
ā€œWhy are you doing this to me?ā€ You ask hoarsely. Gojo is surprised by your question.Ā 
ā€œAh, itā€™s a secret, so you canā€™t tell,ā€ He starts. He squeezes the fat of your chest in his palms, silver tongued and playful ā€œI like things that I can keep.ā€Ā 
A flash of true horror washes over you and you almost go ragged in realization. Weakened in your resolve once glimmering so brightly, Gojo takes the opportunity to please. He kisses down your sternum, runs his hands across the sides of your chest. He presses this thumb against your hardened nipples, rubbing lightly. Gojo takes them into his mouth. He bites then licks like he licks a wound
It pleases him immensely when you respond. When you gasp in a helpless sort of way and go to cover your mouth in shame. A sense of delight washes over his body and he does it again and again. He teases, changes from sucking harshly to lapping oh-so gently on the skin. Over and over until your voice can longer be contained no matter how hard you try - sharp gasps and cries of desire filling the air.Ā 
When he thinks youā€™re worked up enough, he slots himself against you and nudges your legs apart. He can feel the heat from your bare skin against his body, clothed. How you tremble underneath him. He eases his hand down gently, fingers trailing down to your pussy.Ā 
You hiccup. A sob of defiance stifled with obvious arousal, forced from you so easily. Gojo laughs.Ā 
ā€œYou donā€™t wanna?ā€ He pricks, intentionally. Gojo lets his middle finger ease along your slit, dragging his digits up and through - catching on your achy clit ā€œAre you sure?ā€Ā 
Itā€™s torture for you. Of course it is. A pretty, sheltered little thing. Itā€™s your first time with something like this and heā€™s sure all this is too much for you. Even if you tell yourself you donā€™t want it, your body canā€™t refuse him. You canā€™t either, try as you might. Thatā€™s why your legs are spread and why youā€™re practically dripping for him. Gojo thinks of it as admission. Your clit is hard underneath the pad of his middle finger, as he rubs too light and too gently.Ā 
You cry out, pitchy and broken. Gojo laughs.Ā 
ā€œYou need it here,ā€ He punctuates, adding enough pressure that you gasp ā€œNeed me to touch you here, hm?ā€Ā 
You shake your head at first. Gojo tucks himself against your chest, sucking the skin gently.Ā 
ā€œBe more honest.ā€ He encourages a mockery as he so barely presses his finger inside of you - threatening to touch but never doing it ā€œWhat do you want?ā€Ā 
ā€œDonā€™t, I donā€™t.ā€ You say, or you try.Ā 
ā€œLiar,ā€ He snips playfully against your clavicle ā€œYour pretty little pussy is dripping wet and you want me to believe that?ā€Ā 
Gojo smacks your cunt softly. Once, then twice, then three times for good measure as you cry.Ā 
ā€œCā€™mon,ā€ He encourages meanly ā€œTell me what you really want.ā€
Itā€™s a sick little mind game that Gojo is having too much fun playing with you.Ā 
ā€œP-please,ā€ You stutter, so unbelievably broken with so little done to you at all. Gojo will take all of you at a later time. When youā€™re thoroughly pliable and broken and so beautiful all for him ā€œPlease.ā€Ā 
So dependent like Gojo always thinks you should be.Ā 
ā€œPlease what, hm? What are you asking for?ā€Ā 
You swallow thickly. All your dread and doubt and disbelief gone as a sense of real and true need ignites within you. Of course this is too much for you. Gojo overwhelmed you like this on purpose. The resentment of wanting despite it all, despite how miserable you are makes for something so tragically Gojoā€™s. Whatever you have in your heart will always be for him. Good or bad, ugly or beautiful - like this you are all his and so perfectly too. Itā€™s titillating, the sensation of control that wisps around him. It strikes him like a hammer on hot iron.
Gojo wants you to say it. Wants your selflessĀ  little heart to beg for his mercy this once. Youā€™ll understand some time later, that this is how Gojo loves. Selfish and twisted. Cruel. Intimate beyond mortal comprehension. All of him just for you, just like this.Ā 
Strangely, it's perfect. Gojo teases you some more. Toys with your clit and feels a pool of arousal rush and drip from your sore cunt. He hits it with the palm of his hands as you try to form the words. You tremble in his arms, a vestige of your will to resist.Ā 
You want to resist so badly, he can tell. But it hurts now to leave it alone and you want it despite yourself. It makes you so frustrated you cry. Limp, crystal tears down your face that Gojo licks up nearly immediately. Salty and bitter. Gojo kisses the apples of your cheek, nose nudging your skin.Ā 
ā€œSo cute when you give up.ā€ Gojo praises sincerely. You sob somewhere deep inside of your ā€œBe good and be honest. Iā€™ll reward you, hm? Howā€™s that?ā€Ā 
Gojo can feel the moment you give in completely. When acceptance settles over your hazy and contorted mind. You let the tides take you, curling into yourself.Ā  A sound like youā€™re in pain even though youā€™re not hurt.Ā 
ā€œPlease touch me.ā€ You whisper, hoarse and defeated. Gojo laughs airy, peppering your face with kisses. You wince.Ā 
ā€œGood girl.ā€ He coos, dipping his fingers down lower and lower. Heel of his palms pressed into your swollen, needy clit ā€œThatā€™s all you had to do. Easy, right?ā€Ā 
You scowl at him (you try too).
ā€œOpen your legs, baby,ā€Ā 
You listen this time, opening your legs wide enough for him to touch. Your pussy is so wet for him. Sticky and soft like youā€™ll fall apart, Gojo thinks it feels divine, wants to squeeze and grope and touch until youā€™re disintegrated. He likes feeling you like this. Vocal chords strung tight, all the noises throaty and gone. You throb against him like youā€™re begging. Gojo doesnā€™t stand to let you acclimate, flipping between three fingers in a gentle rub to a soft and well-practiced spank.Ā 
Only when your words start to come out t0gether, like youā€™re spitting them out because they fill your mouthĀ  too quick - does Gojo bless you with any mercy. He lets his hands sink lower, deeper - until his middle finger brushes your twitching hole. Your breath hitches, and the hands once stuck to your side, reach for Gojoā€™s hard to hold.Ā 
He licks his teeth, some unspoken feeling sending an bullet through him as he feels your body resist. Needy thing you are and so untouched that even the point of your middle finger makes your breath slower. Youā€™re wet enough he doesnā€™t need anything else to aid him. He pushes in slow, slow, slow - painstakingly carefully as your wetness envelops you.Ā 
Because he intends to cherish you in his own way, he resists the urge he feels to flip you right over and take you. Heā€™s being kind, and youā€™ll realize it later - when youā€™ve adjusted to him a bit more and know when to pick your fights. If he didnā€™t think itā€™d ruin the set-up, heā€™d have flipped you on your back just feeling. Fucked you without any consideration, just to feel your pussy around him in a vice grip.Ā 
Itā€™s all he can picture, but he shows restraint. Heā€™ll fuck himself off on you when youā€™re sleeping maybe, just to scratch the urge. You might pass out before then.Ā 
He comes back to you like that, a promise to himself to give the relief he needs with the body he finds oh-so tempting. He pushes his perversion aside to touch you. You let out a little sound every time he fucks himself deeper, gets his middle finger down to the first bend the all the way to the knuckle.Ā 
When he thinks youā€™re adjusted - ready for more, he gives it to you without making you plead. He uses his ring finger this time - his longest ones and feels you stretch around. He groans, deep and appreciative, as he feels how tight you are. You preen, squeeze your thighs together and call his nameĀ 
ā€œOh, Satoru, its.ā€Ā 
He shushes you before busying himself with tasting your skin. Closes his mouth around one of your tits as he repeats the process. In, in, in until heā€™s all the way to his knuckles. Fucks you till itā€™s easy, till youā€™re wanting more.Ā 
If he were more merciful, a good man or a better one - heā€™d stop here. He doesnā€™t though. A third finger has your eyes widening. You gasp. Gojo kisses your face again and again.Ā 
ā€œEasy, easy,ā€ He coos, voice coarse but encouraging ā€œItā€™s a good exercise for the future.ā€Ā 
You donā€™t register the words and Gojo doesnā€™t expect you to. Even still, he thinks giving you the heads up is quite nice.Ā 
Three fingers proves to be more than enough. It pushes you to an edge he has seen before. He fucks you with three. Your mouth falls open, slack jawed. Gojo curls his fingers. He rubs up like heā€™s motioning for you to come here, deep enough until he feels it. That spongy spot inside of you, apparent through the sounds you start to make as he touches it.Ā 
He hits something of a stride like that, finger fucking you with pressure on your clit and his mouth on your skin. Gojo takes to watching you once he knows heā€™s getting you to that edge. Your body stiffens underneath him, breathing going noticeably shallow. Mouth wobbly, lower lip trembling. He can tell youā€™re feeling it, just as much as youā€™re resisting it. Gojo coaxes you by whispering against your skin.Ā 
ā€œCā€™mon,ā€ He hums, nudging his nose to your neck ā€œYou wanna cum donā€™t you? I can tell you. You too scared? Need me to help you.ā€Ā 
You whimper ā€œAah, aah,ā€ Gojo can feel you pulse. Can feel your insides tighten. Heā€™s doing it on purpose, tipping you just over the edge. He wants to hear you beg. Wants to know what it sounds like when you beg for him. He fucks into you slowly, until youā€™re no longer able to put on a show of being composed.Ā 
ā€œS-satoā€”oh, please, ohā€”please m-make me,ā€Ā 
ā€œWant me to making you cum? Say it. Say, ā€˜Satoru, please make me cum,ā€™ can you do that?ā€Ā 
A bitter sob leaves your lips and Gojo canā€™t think straight. It strains you.Ā 
ā€œS-satoru, pleasemakemecumā€”please.ā€Ā 
Gojo grins. ā€œOf course I can,ā€ He quickens his pace enough to make you feel it. Your eyes shoot open before screwing closed again ā€œAll you had to do was ask me.ā€Ā 
He watches you intently. How you fall apart under his fingers, delirious whimpers of no, no, no - even though you begged so sweetly a minute ago. He hums as he feels the walls of your pussy start to tremble, a soft squelching sound hastened now. You say something he canā€™t decipher, words too jumbled for him to make sense. Gojo stares hard. Lets the infinity bleed away so he can feel you just like this, feel you cum on his fingers despite everything.Ā 
He feels giddy to the point heā€™s sick with it, moaning as your hands grip at the roots of his hair. He kisses your breast tenderly, just over the latest lovemark.Ā 
ā€œDonā€™t hate me too much, kay,ā€ Gojo says, whispering, means it so you carry it with you because he can feel the resentment nudged so deep into your heart by now ā€œCome on. Cum for me, sweet girl. Want you to feel so good.ā€Ā 
And so you do. You cry, scream - but the noise amounts to nothing. A cosmic thing, like youā€™ve been struck by a comet. Gojo fingers you through it, absolutely delighted at the hot rush of liquid that comes pouring out of you. Your first orgasm from him and youā€™re squirting all over his fucking wrists, soaking his sheets and his arms and his PJā€™s with your back curved in a beautiful arch. You break apart in an almost violent way, like the pleasureā€™s vicious. It tears into you and you succumb with a whimper.Ā 
Gojo shushes you as you break down finally into a teeny, tiny sob. You must be exhausted because you donā€™t pull away when he comforts you, despite the little angry why, why, why that you whisper. You hit his chest softly. He kisses your forehead and listens as your breathing goes still and you fall asleep in a heart-beart, still curled up into his bed and too tired to run away or go anywhere.Ā 
He stays with you like that, relishing in the warmth of your body until youā€™re deep asleep. He flips you onto the side of the bed that isnā€™t wet, and presses a kiss to your forehead before moving out of the sheets. .Ā 
When he stands to his feet, itā€™s to collect the curse thatā€™s gathered itself on the foot of the bed. It manifests as a white snake with blue-eyes. Gojo finds himself amused. Of course the curse youā€™ve made is pretty. Gojo grabs it by the neck, watching it as it pries its mouth open and bares his fangs at him. He grins, pricking himself on the teeth to see if it makes him bleed.Ā 
It hisses loudly before wrapping itself around Gojoā€™s arm. It doesnā€™t take any effort to subjugate it, sensing his power it stills with some effort. Gojo tilts his head as he walks out of the room, glancing at you before turning his head back at the snake.Ā 
ā€œBetter warm up to me,ā€ He whispers in the dark, a contentment to his words ā€œYou wonā€™t be seeing your mama for a while,ā€Ā 
ā€”
Communication stills.Ā 
Radio silence, more like - a busy bunch of messages deftly still. Suddenly, a raging storm of grief and anger disappears. The morning after Gojo assaults you, he wakes up to see you off like nothings happened.Ā 
He mostly does this because he wants to see what youā€™ll do.
You spend the morning perplexed and confused. You eat breakfast with him. You sit at the table, contemplative and silent and Gojo chats away at you idly. About the news and the weather and the classes he has today. You chew your food but donā€™t taste. You listen but your replies are short and stilted - out of touch.Ā 
Gojo learns that when something bad happens to you, you respond to it by detaching yourself. Though yesterday you were hot and fiery, the day after you seem to be mourning. Your grieving process starts early, and Gojo thinks rather amusedā€”that you remind him a lot of himself.
He thinks youā€™re a little closer now that you understand the apathy of losing something that can never come back. And once this whole thing is over, once you find yourself back here - heā€™ll tell you all about it. You get it now right? Itā€™s painful to feel like you can never be the same.Ā 
They say that mankind was fashioned from their Lord. Gojo supposes heā€™s made you in his image. You look a little empty, and though youā€™re both so different - you can become close by having the same wound. You can understand him a little more this way, all while retaining your sense of resilience.
What is mankind not known for if not perseverance? Of course he knows, once you recover from your grief, youā€™ll return to your usual spitfire. Heā€™s counting on it, counting on you to fight and run. Escape from him and never come back.Ā 
But that cat and mouse game is more than okay. Gojo isnā€™t looking for your obedience, really. Youā€™re too defiant of a character. Gojo thinks itā€™d be pointless if youā€™d just stayed the same.
You need to have hope to stay the way you are. Thus, Gojo doesnā€™t plan to rob you of it. He figures itā€™s best to give you breathing room. After all, he has full confidence in his ability to find you. He could hear the rhythm of your heart a continent away and chase it down without thinking twice. But itā€™s better if youā€™re able to show him some resistance. He thinks of it like a compromise. That sort of thing is typical for married folks, he thinks. He gives and you take.Ā 
Eventually, you might realize that the endeavor of running away is fruitless. Maybe youā€™ll be clever enough to recognize that itā€™s not that youā€™re succeeding, but that Gojo is letting you. Youā€™re definitely smart enough to do so early, but just stubborn enough to believe that thereā€™s hope in spite of that. If you try hard enough, persevere a little more, etc.Ā 
Gojo likes this part of you. Always will. You always put your best in everything and this is his own way of nurturing it.Ā 
Itā€™d be a shame to take that from you. Gojo has remained out of your sight for the time being to try and reinstate it. While he raises the curse up in his apartment, he watches you through windows and flitters into your bedroom to peer at you before disappearing again. He makes sure that you canā€™t sense him or that heā€™s gone before you can. The more ease you feel, the easier everything else will go.Ā 
Feeding the curse youā€™ve left behind in his house has been taking most of its time. Itā€™s obedient to him since heā€™s strong, and itā€™s big now. Longer and wider and more sinister looking (he feels a weird affection for it, maybe just because itā€™s from you), more hostile. Heā€™s been careful to maintain it. Too much feeding will make it overgrown.Ā 
Itā€™s currently on Gojoā€™s floor, on a dog bed like a disobedient pet - all in a single coil. He has to be careful not to endanger you by making it too strong or giving it too much range. Itā€™s just meant to be a showpiece - a prop at best and a scraped knee at worst.
Heā€™s been building it up for a long time. Then, though, it wasnā€™t such a clear desire. He figured sewing seeds of fear in you would benefit you in a different way. But thatā€™s fine. The means donā€™t matter as much as the ends and in doing so - heā€™s made this all sort of seamless.Ā 
Itā€™s not a complicated plan, ultimately. Heā€™ll tell the curse to let loose, freak you out a little, and eventually - youā€™ll call the only person you know who knows how to handle it. Gojo will save you, and when youā€™re finally caught in his arms, youā€™ll have a little reunion amongst yourselves. Heā€™ll reprimand you (but only lightly) and youā€™ll thrash (but only for a little while) and then heā€™ll keep you by his side again.Ā 
Except this time he wonā€™t be so quick to let go. Heā€™s sure youā€™ll protest (and be all gung-ho about it). Heā€™ll feign cruelty and push you to the edge. Whatever response you do have, heā€™s thought of a way to reply.Ā 
A way to tend to it.Ā 
Like any relationship, things take time. Heā€™s not expecting this to settle right away - but heā€™s confident eventually itā€™ll work out how he wants too. Gojo can make that happen as long as youā€™re within view.Ā 
He watches you through the window as you come in from your classes. Youā€™re dressed up today despite the chilly weather - a blouse and nice pants with bangles on your wrist. He wonders what the occasion is given the time of year. Your bag is hanging loosely off of your shoulder - having only just returned.Ā 
A sense of warmth spreads through him as he peers at you, a smile on his face. He really does like looking at you quite a bit.Ā 
The curse hisses at the sense of your presence and Gojo waves a hand at it to keep it quiet.Ā 
ā€œCalm down or Iā€™ll exercise you right away,ā€ Gojo says coldly. It retracts itself. ā€œIā€™m getting impatient, too, you know? Itā€™s been a long time.ā€ He says wistfully.Ā 
He keeps looking until youā€™ve effectively disappeared from his sight. He listens for you outside of his door. The sound of the building buzzer, soft footsteps, and the slight jiggle and turn of keys before youā€™ve gone in - sound by a dull thump.Ā 
He leans against the wall near his door where he was listening, eyes up at the ceiling as he turns over his options. He should wait it out a little longer. Giving everything enough room to mellow out before it picks up again is an important part of the process.Ā 
But he doesnā€™t know how much longer he can wait. Plus, keeping this curse around is starting to be troublesome. Heā€™d much prefer you back in his arms, in his bed - all back to that kind domestic fantasy that heā€™d been thinking about again for weeks.Ā 
He supposes thereā€™s no right decision, in this case. Just what he wants to do, versus what he should do, and some kind of middle ground heā€™s been spending too long looking for.Ā 
He stands to his feet, no longer leaning on the wall before glancing at the curse from the corner of his eyes.Ā 
ā€œToday seems like itā€™s too soon yet too far,ā€ Gojo pauses between sentences, scratching his head woefully ā€œBut it should be okay, right?ā€Ā 
__Ā 
At 7pm, the curse slips underneath the door of his apartment into the hallway. Gojo sits comfortably in his living room, one leg crossed over the other with his phone in hand, a warm mug of tea cooling on his coffee table.Ā 
The news is playing. A general and loose sense of anticipation fills him as he pays attention to the newscaster. Another storm is going to hit and the temperatures are dropping to an impossible low. Officials recommend buying bottled water and keeping warm as it continues to blow out.Ā 
Thereā€™s a soft hiss as the muscled curse squeezes itself underneath the tight crack of his door. Itā€™s unfortunate he canā€™t monitor it directly. Though the instructions ( and subsequently the consequences of disobedience) were made clear - curses are greedy as they are stupid. This one in particular seems to be self-aware enough not to try to go against Gojoā€™s word.Ā 
So, when the time comes he sits patiently and waits. Watches the news. His ears itch and his skin pricks as he listens for the first whisper of your voice. He wonders if youā€™ll scream. You didnā€™t when he thought you shouldā€™ve but maybe there's a reason for you to do so now.Ā 
The clock ticks away. Itā€™s unceremonious. Gojo thinks to himself that maybe this entire thing is esoteric. Capturing you is a tragedy that he writes to himself and heā€™ll re-tell it to you all the time in different ways.Ā 
The clock ticks. Again and again, the monotony is starting to settle in. Time moves slower than you could imagine. Like trying to pipe honey into straw, thick and impossible.Ā 
Tick. Tick. Tick.Ā 
Tick. Tick. Tick.Ā 
Tick. Tick. Tick.Ā 
At 7:02, a dog barks outside. It sounds cagey, and itā€™s not Pokupan because Gojo knows what that mutt sounds like. Nor is it cosmic. It does sound desperate, though - like asking someone to be let in. And if Gojo didnā€™t have such a pressing matter to attend to, heā€™d go outside and do it himself. After all the wind is frosty and the air is unforgiving and winter devours things so slowly it's painful.Ā 
Gojo canā€™t abandon his task. Itā€™s too important for him to stick his neck out for a being he doesnā€™t even know. He hopes briefly that it survives. That someone lets it in before it gets anymore violent (or desperate or willing)Ā 
At 7:03, he reaches for the tea on his coffee table to drink it. Itā€™s still piping hot, but Gojo can swallow it with his infinity. He does for a reason he canā€™t name. Itā€™s just a compulsion, inspired by the fact it will probably be too cold when he comes back for it. He thinks, instinctively, that he should cherish the warmth in the glass despite the barrier that prevents him from feeling it. Ultimately itā€™s still milk tea. It will still fill his stomach and taste vaguely sweet where he permits. He ought to drink it when itā€™s warm even if itā€™s just an illusion.Ā 
The clock ticks again, this time to 7:04 and Gojo regains a sense of bravado thatā€™s riveting. Thereā€™s a commercial airing now for a new type of kitchen gadget, an airfryer with more settings than any one person knows what to do with. The advertiser is enthusiastic and loud. He wonders what happens when it switches to the next one. Do actors on set feel awkward when the cameras turn off? He knows a thing or two about performing, which is why he finds himself so curious.Ā 
At 7:05, the first whisper of your pleading filters through the hallways. Though Gojo figures heā€™s not meant to be able to hear it - because however vague it is, the sense of shame that it holds is hard to ignore. Despite his urge to run to you, Gojo is reminded of the fact he is teaching you a lesson and this is all a show for you and in a way for him too. Thereā€™s timings and cues and calls, so Gojo lets your first prayer get passed through the winter winds. Heā€™s sure it gets dropped off somewhere in the snow.Ā 
The dog outside bares its teeth and barks louder than before.Ā 
At 7:06, the feelings of fear and negativity start to weasel their way into his apartment. Through cracks in the floorboards and the aeration in the spackle - he can feel it come through his door and penetrate his being like waves of wind. With no barrier and no filter, your fear is a familiar presence in his life. It comes to a crescendo as he leans his head back on the couch and blinks up at the ceiling. Heā€™s pleased with it so far. Itā€™s proving to be just right. All the months of delicate orchestration have culminated into such a lovely overture. A symphony of sobs. It enchants him like a bird song, or maybe the whistle of a blizzard.Ā 
He waits for it to die down. He waits for it to start back up again. He waits for the sniffling to become sobs and for the sobs to become demands and for the demands to go back to sniffles. He waits for the dog outside to be let in because he can hear the buzz of the gates all the way from his apartment.Ā 
When Gojo has had enough of waiting, itā€™s 7:15 sharp.Ā 
He stands to his feet and walks through his door with not so much as a look back. The T.V. is still playing where he fazes out and he leaves it because this will be quick and easy.Ā 
Youā€™re right across the hall. The walk is short. The building moans like itā€™s dead.Ā 
He stands in front of your door and presses his ears to it and thereā€™s some semblance of an altercation. Mostly the sounds of shattered glass.Ā 
If you were any more familiar with this world, youā€™d know the thing is stalling. It has harmful intent but Gojoā€™s presence is too risky. If you knew anything about anything, then youā€™d know you were never in any real danger and even calling Gojoā€™s name when you hate it so much now would be pointless.Ā 
But Gojo has done his due diligence in keeping you in the fateful dark.Ā 
So this part is easy. He reaches for the door but itā€™s locked, so he teleports.Ā 
When he enters, your apartment is in terrible shape. The curse itself notices his presence but does not stop to act. He stops to take a look around. He figures youā€™re cornered and holed up in your bedroom. A trembling figure in the corner praying for God to save you.Ā 
Your house is effectively thrashed like thereā€™s been a robbery. Heā€™ll have to make up something in the report. Officials will come, but they wonā€™t question his word. All the glass is broken and scattered and everything is torn up. Papers ripped and fabric shredded.Ā 
(The stuff Gojo demanded not to be touched has remained that way. Even heā€™s not so much of a monster to ruin your students' keepsakes. Heā€™s sure youā€™ll look relieved when he returns them to you later. How kind he is.)Ā 
He prepares himself like an actor might for a role. He thinks of the lines heā€™s practiced and the way things will play out. This simple, choreographed tragedy. A manifestation of your fears. Gojo thinks that he is probably good at becoming the thing people love yet resent.Ā 
Heā€™s sure you and Suguru would have a lot to talk about in another life.Ā 
He checks the time on your digital clock, left unscatched in all the destruction.Ā 
At 7:18, Gojo phases himself into your bedroom like heā€™s only just arrived. He hears you gasp in a sharp fear that quickly breaks into a sob of relief. He glances at you where he stands. Heā€™s never been in your room. Kind of a waste itā€™s happening like this.Ā 
The first thing he does is check if the door is locked. When he finds that it is, he laughs to himself but covers his face before he turns to you. You are exactly how he predicts. Something curled tightly into your fists, fearful and backed into a corner. He coos internally. At what he's done to you. How this has played out.Ā 
It wasnā€™t enough to break you a little. This part is necessary.Ā 
Like he starts most interrogations off, he asks you question.
ā€œAre you okay?ā€
ā€œOh, Satoru.ā€ Your voice sounds shattered in such a way he finds it almost hard to stomach ā€œOh, itā€™sā€”Oh itā€™s you.ā€Ā 
ā€œHappy to see me, huh?ā€ He says, tilting his head. You close your eyes instead of replying.Ā 
ā€œH-howā€™d youā€¦?ā€Ā 
ā€œI can feel cursed energy,ā€ He says, and itā€™s not untrue ā€œI felt something very strange in your apartment. Itā€™s been a while.ā€Ā 
You still canā€™t find it in yourself to say anything. Maybe desperate, maybe afraid, maybe exhausted by your own paranoia - you relent.Ā 
ā€œYeah.ā€ You say. Gojo can feel the curse grow impatient. It lets out a loud hiss and you gasp in fear.
ā€œHey, you didnā€™t answer. Are you okay?ā€Ā 
You stare at Gojo for a long time.Ā 
ā€œIā€™m not hurt but,ā€ You swallow thickly. Upon looking at you closely, you look exhausted. He feels a little sorry for you. Heā€™ll let you rest for a while when youā€™re home ā€œIā€™m s-scared.ā€Ā 
ā€œYouā€™re right to be scared,ā€ Gojo says, and he means it a little. Not about the curse, but in general ā€œItā€™s a pretty powerful class. A special grade, probably. You share cursed energy.ā€Ā 
You look agape as he relays this to you.Ā 
ā€œShareā€¦?ā€Ā 
Gojo gives you a look. He can feel the creature coming towards you door down, slinking across the wood slowly. A coy, soft smile appears on his expression as he reaches down for you. You flinch from his hands but Gojo doesnā€™t falter. He strokes his thumb across your cheeks, peering at your eyes and how they reflect light from the outside.Ā 
ā€œIt was made with your cursed energy,ā€ Gojo explains very gently to you. You look at him in disbelief ā€œCurses are negative emotions. So something like this isnā€™t uncommon. No idea how it got so strong, though. But thatā€™s all your.ā€Ā 
He watches you closely as a wave of horror settles over you. A nauseous feeling that has you cupping your hand over your mouth like youā€™re ready to throw-up. He masks a smile, but he doesnā€™t condescend you. Not openly, at least. Not to the extent he would like too. He reprimands you like a teacher - a sensei and his beloved mentee.Ā 
ā€œI told you didnā€™t I,ā€ Gojo says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as you quell your own disgust at the thought ā€œYou have to be careful. And you canā€™t fight all by yourself, so youā€™re kind of helpless. What were you gonna do if I wasnā€™t around?ā€Ā 
You look like youā€™re going to cry. Gojo keeps going.Ā 
ā€œYou canā€™t call the police, you know. They canā€™t help you at all. Good for nothing bunch, really.ā€ Gojo states, gesturing vaguely. He tugs his masks off of his eyes so you can get a better look at him ā€œBut you can rely on me if you need to. Iā€™ll always protect you. Next time just give me a call, okay?ā€Ā 
It must dawn on you, just then, what exactly Gojo is doing. Or some extent of this is hitting you for the very first time. The look on your face is picture perfect. Itā€™s exactly what he wanted. An understanding heā€™d be hoping for for so long itā€™s unbelievable.Ā 
ā€œIā€™m the only one who can keep you safe, understand?ā€ But heā€™s not really asking. You know that too ā€œCan you nod your head and agree?ā€ He pricks. You donā€™t hold back your tears but you donā€™t cry them either. You break downĀ  silently nd you nod.Ā 
Gojo reaches down and wipes them off for you.Ā 
ā€œDonā€™t be so sad,ā€ He says to you, and he means it because what a shame it would be to wallow too much on such a nice day. Winter is for warming up next to your loved ones, isnā€™t it? ā€œIā€™ll protect you now.ā€Ā 
Left with no choice, you nod again slowly and clutch your pillow. Gojo kisses the crown of your head and leaves you to untangle your feelings.Ā 
Then, almost on cue, the curse itself bursts through the door. The wood breaks off with the hinges.Ā 
Itā€™s really a weak thing. If Gojo was trying to keep his powers contained, he mightā€™ve put up more of a fight as it lunges at him in your bedroom. It knocks over your things left and right but heā€™s mostly busy trying to muffle the noises so he doesnā€™t disturb the neighbors.
Ā Itā€™s as fast as a gust of wind as he strikes out, neck elongated and jaw as unhinged as far as it can go. This time, Gojo can feel the weight of its desire to kill. A rampant sense of bloodlust in itā€™s every action, Gojo dodges each attempt and swipe at him. He leaves a barrier over you temporarily so that it can do you no harm.
It doesnā€™t go for you either. He figures maybe it has some understanding of its own predicament. Desperate animals can be clever too. Perhaps those things have always been linked together.Ā 
But he figures a fair-ish fight is as much as Gojo can do to stave the thing off before he sends it off officially. Plus, he can feel you watching his back - like youā€™re trying to measure how strong he is. Itā€™s a smart thing to do. Youā€™re learning. Itā€™s probably better to show you now, since thereā€™s not much left to hide.Ā 
So this time, when the snake comes flying towards him - Gojo reaches his hands out. He uses his infinity to stop it in its place. A noise of anger leaves its mouth, a low hiss as it hits the wall in front of him. Wide blue eyes stare at Gojo, a predator with its fangs bared.Ā 
Gojo stares back, a predator with its fangs bared.
He uses a reversal of his Limitless, the infinite blue. The creature is pulled into him closely, crashing first into the space heā€™s created before disappearing into nothing but smoke and ash. Itā€™s gone just as quickly as it happened. A curse so inferior, it canā€™t have been more than ten minutes to fight even with all the purposeful delays Gojo set in place to finish it off.Ā 
Itā€™s gone now, the product of you and him. A weird part of him is sad. But now he has you, so he cuts his losses. Now there is only you and Gojo, and a ruined bedroom and broken apartment.Ā 
Gojo, who has no intention of enlightening you, turns his back to look at you.Ā 
ā€œDonā€™t know how long itā€™ll be gone but,ā€ He shrugs, rolling his shoulder and cracking his spine ā€œBut itā€™s gone for now. Some officials will be here in the morning but with the way this place is, you might wanna come back to stay with me for a while.ā€Ā 
This is all a formality. Heā€™s sure you know too, but instead of turning away - youā€™re shivering figure wavers in the dark. Youā€™re terrified enough to reach for his hand and hold it. You know whatā€™s coming, but that knowing does nothing to save you. You were a victim to fate from the moment you met. Yet, you still look to him for comfort in safety because even knowing better, there isnā€™t anything you can do.Ā 
And itā€™s just like you, to want to trust and forgive him. To reach your hand out hesitantly and try. Everything is tangled up and you are terrified and Gojo Satoru loves you.Ā 
ā€œCome on,ā€ He says, encouraging you to get closer. He reaches over your bed to scoop you into his arms and you donā€™t do so much as protest ā€œLetā€™s go home.ā€Ā 
__
Gojo brings you home quietly.Ā 
When he enters, the T.V. is still on. You are curled up in his arms. He has no idea how long youā€™ve been crying and about what in particular - but thatā€™s okay. Tonight, to him, is something like an anniversary. Like any time before, he has no intentions to treat you roughly.Ā 
Itā€™s a good night, he thinks. Even in the state youā€™re in, Gojo can only think of making it even more memorable. Youā€™re an injured thing in his arms. A delicate bird with clipped wings, or a butterfly with a missing antenna. Without Gojo there to pick you up in all your broken pieces, you mightā€™ve really fallen apart.Ā 
Itā€™s reasonable enough. For someone like you, heā€™s sure tonight has been so scary. It makes him feel a little sorry for you. It makes him want to make it all worse before he makes it all better.Ā 
He canā€™t describe it, but there is something so right about seeing you like this.Ā 
All angry and resentful and volatile. All lonely and scared and saddened and somber. All Gojoā€™s forever, permanently through everything. Heā€™s made you so completely in his image, something heā€™s always wanted to do. Maybe youā€™re a trial run, in its own right, of all the things Gojo will be able to do in the future. What heā€™s capable of creating with enough effort.Ā 
Gojo is gentle to you. Tender, as he carries you into the apartment. You help him turn off the T.V. and put the mug into the sink. He carries you too afterwards, rewarding you with a kiss to your temple, before pulling through the threshold of his bedroom.Ā 
Just like that, you find yourself again in Gojoā€™s bedroom like you were so many weeks prior. Youā€™re weakened and exhausted, so willing that he is endeared. Like this, he hovers over you. Looks at your tearstained face and smiles so lovingly.Ā 
Regardless of everything thatā€™s transpired, above all - this is a reunion of two lovers to Gojo Satoru. So in the midst of it, he wipes your tears and kisses your cheek and you donā€™t pull away. Now youā€™re so ruined you relish his comfort if only a little, and this time itā€™s perfect. Itā€™s everything heā€™s always imagined.Ā 
Heā€™ll give you hope and freedom and let you be. Eventually, youā€™ll come to realize youā€™ll always need him a little. And it doesnā€™t matter, does it? That heā€™s made it that way on his own. Because itā€™s true. Itā€™s righteous and religious and godly. Gojo Satoru is not god, but he does understand the urge to make something that listens.Ā 
He kisses your soft cheeks and hums at you, nose nudging your skin.Ā 
ā€œStill feel like crying?ā€ He asks you. You blink up at him like youā€™re only just now realizing where you are. Some emotion overwhelms you, but ultimately you shake your head no. Gojo grins impishly.Ā 
ā€œThatā€™s good,ā€ He says tenderly. He kisses your lips this time, and you kiss back. It catches him off guard but he doesnā€™t dislike it ā€œYou didnā€™t get hurt did you? And now weā€™re together again.ā€Ā 
This does seem to incite waterworks in you but you donā€™t look like you have the energy to cry. He doesnā€™t push you too much. Though it is fun seeing you like this, Gojo is grateful he has some time to cherish you.Ā 
ā€œScary world out there, yā€™know?ā€ Gojo says between kisses. He adjusts you, your arms around his shoulders loosely ā€œHold onto me okay? Iā€™ll make it all better.ā€Ā 
You whimper under your voice but donā€™t go to thrash. Thereā€™s something about you that feels limp. A spirit softened and dampened, like wet soil. Gojo is okay with anything as long as itā€™s you, and there is some part of this he likes too. How pliant you become under the weight of your fear, so tantalizing to Gojo he canā€™t help himself but kiss you.Ā  Riper than the fruit of Eden. Just as sweet.
He kisses you for longer than necessary. Itā€™s intimate and hopeful. All tangled hands and pulling different parts of you up to his lips.The occasional press of his teeth in your skin, with his senses so high he can practically feel the blood rush through them. Your mouth is soft and warm, the breadth of mint on your tongue. He pushes his tongue past your lips but this time around, you donā€™t do anything to refuse it.Ā 
So accepting like this. Gojo thinks life with you will prove to be exciting.Ā 
He rests his hands on your waist and you donā€™t pull away from him. Such soft skin covered in a sheer layer of sweat. Itā€™s making him dizzy to have you like this, to kiss you in his bed. Again, again, again. You belong here with him and nothing has ever been so true. The euphoria of everything is overwhelming. He canā€™t get enough of you. Even if in the moment he carved a spot into you forever and buried himself there, he cannot help but want to be spoiled by your lenience and affection. He canā€™t help himself but to possess all of you so even time cannot spoil iit.Ā 
Despite yourself, you touch Gojo back gently. Knowing you, it is a way to deal with the pain. You want to forgive him as much as you want him to save you. You hate him as much as you love him.Ā 
From the beginning, everything has been exactly like this. This was the end of all ends.Ā 
This is a lesson in divine truth.Ā 
Youā€™ve made Gojo this way as much as heā€™s made you. If Gojo Satoru is to play as God, then he supposes you are much like an owner. Some part of you has made him love you unconditionally. A dog and his master. An animal with a love so violent it shakes windows. Gojo Satoru makes you love him through violent means, and like a dog left abandoned in the snow - your own empathy for his unconditional but broken love makes you protect him. Itā€™s cyclical. It can never change because the universe has ordained it. Because everything Gojo touches is a divination from the heavens.Ā 
Where Suguru proves to be a lesson, you are the dues he is owed.Ā 
This is a lesson in divine truth.Ā 
More simply, Gojo Satoru loves you in his own way. Any loyal dog will chase its owner no matter how far they run. He lives for you, after all. Heā€™s made you in his image. The difference between god and dog is nothing more than a matter of positioning.Ā 
You love him back in your own way. Because his character and his tragedy makes it so difficult to abandon himĀ  and your disposition will never allow you. Youā€™ll hate and resent him. Youā€™ll grieve and youā€™ll cry. You will want to turn your back but he will always come to save you. And who can love you so loyally as a dog undisciplined? Who can keep your sheltered being protected like a wild hound?
Spring was an innocent century ago. Winter is here. Gojo loves you.Ā 
ā€œMy birthday passed recently,ā€ He tells you. You blink at him.Ā 
ā€œOh?ā€Ā 
ā€œCan you guess what I want?ā€Ā 
You donā€™t do much more than nod. Itā€™s not permissive. You just know better by now, and that too is not something Gojo finds himself pleased with.Ā 
ā€œYou donā€™t have to do any work,ā€ He offers you as a reprieve, busying himself once again with undressing you. Youā€™re still wearing the clothes he bought you all those weeks ago ā€œJust donā€™t run away from me.ā€Ā 
If you notice how heavy the words are, youā€™re smart enough not to do anything. Even still, Gojo canā€™t tell if there's a purpose behind it. Perhaps you just know it instinctively not to.Ā 
He takes you apart carefully. Careful, thick fingers unbuttoning the front of your shirt. Youā€™re wearing nothing underneath, and the sight of your bare skin is almost too much for him. The hickies have yet to heal, though now theyā€™re yellow and softened by time. Gojo will have to leave more to bring back all the color to you.Ā 
He starts at your jaw this time, teeth against your earlobe. Heart in your hands, he knows your body a little better now.Ā 
And he takes his time with it this time too. Even slower than before. Even more consuming, even more adoring.Ā 
He laps his tongue against your soft skin and eats. Your skin is salty and sweet and Gojo canā€™t contain himself. He gropes you lightly, planing his palms over your shoulders and squeezing your breasts tight. Heā€™s missed touching you more than he knows what to do with.Ā 
Even in being gentle, thereā€™s little he can stop himself from trying to devour. You lay about him squirming as he undoes each and every part of you. He canā€™t pick which place to go and what thing to do first because he wants so wholly. Itā€™s making his head spin to listen to your sweet and short whimpers. You spread yourself as you lay under him, hands pinned to your sides - demure and needy.Ā 
How different it is but the same. Something about how youā€™re clinging to him so desperately is making him feel sick with lust.Ā 
Instead of going any further, he pulls away from you momentarily. He puts his arms on your sides and flips you over till youā€™re on top of him
The sudden change in position leaves you gasping for air. Gojo gives you an amused grin as you fall forward - as he props himself up on pillows while you try and steady himself. He holds you close to him once youā€™re all set, face to face like this.
ā€œDonā€™t run away from me,ā€ He says, more seriously. You swallow. Gojo lets you up until youā€™re half-way over him. Youā€™re so much weaker than him, moved and manhandled so easily. Thereā€™s a target on your back so often and Gojo loves being an arrow.Ā 
He kisses the side of your body as you stand on your knees beside him. His fingers hook into your shorts and panties, sliding them off of your body all in a fell swoop. He squeezes your ass slightly, spreading you apart.
ā€œLook at you all bent over for me,ā€ He coos, hands reaching underneath you to toy with your pussy. You whine, shuddering, clinging to his shoulders. ā€œSo pretty, baby. Prettiest girl.ā€Ā 
A hiccup bobs in your throat. Gojo moves his fingers lower and lower, familiar now with the feel of you. Your cunt is just as welcoming as he remembers. The idea of making love sends a shiver through his whole body. Blood rushes to his cock like a bolt of lightning in his veins. He pushes his middle finger into your twitching, needy hole.Ā 
Another sound, cut off by a garbled word of surprise, falls out of your mouth. Youā€™re soaking. Ripe for taking. Gojo wants to fuck you more than anything.
He takes a deep breath, whispering to your skin.Ā 
ā€œFuck,ā€ He laughs, giggling at the thought of it ā€œIā€™m gonna break you, huh? Gotta beā€”shit, need to be extra careful with you, right my love?ā€Ā 
ā€œPlease be gentle.ā€ You say at his request.
ā€œOf course, of course butā€”ā€ He squeezes your hip as he feels his middle finger go into you down to the knuckle. You roll your hips against him involuntarilyĀ  ā€œYou justā€”youā€™d look so good so full of my cock, yā€™know? Been thinkinā€™ about it for weeks.ā€Ā 
And he has, means every word. You shudder at the confession. He quirks his lips as he fucks into you, relishing in those pretty little sounds that fall out of your lips.Ā 
ā€œYou like that?ā€ He grunts, another finger to stretch you out a little more for him ā€œYou like when I tell you about all the dirty things you make me think about?ā€Ā 
Shame fills you, like Gojoā€™s lit a match under you. He can feel your heartbeat pick up. Is it the being so wanted or is it the crassness and humiliation? Maybe both. Sometime later heā€™ll pick it apart more closely. He lets himself talk you through it, so close to your skin as he whispers all the filth to you that he can. Confesses it to you.Ā 
ā€œWeeks and weeks, baby. Couldnā€™t stop thinking about how perfect and wet you would feel when I finally took you like this. Gonna make it so good for you, you wonā€™t have to think about anything else again.ā€Ā 
The promise sends you limp. When Gojo finally feels both of his fingers slide in and out of you with no resistance at all, he sighs lightly and pulls away. The loss of contact makes you whine, but he brings you back to his lap now, sitting with your legs on either side of his.Ā 
His cock, clothed and restrained in his sweats, swells against your wet cunt. He watches your eyes widen as you stare at it, lucid enough this time to realize what it looks like. He looks up at you, kissing the corner of your mouth.Ā 
ā€œCā€™mon. You can look.ā€Ā 
He guides you to the waistband of his sweatpants. You pull his pants down slowly, looking up for permission (which Gojo gives in a loving nod) before taking his boxers off too. His cock is so hard itā€™s almost painful. The tip is a flush red, white hairs trimmed neat at the base and feeling so fucking heavy Gojo canā€™t stand it. He hisses as your hands reach for him instinctively, and you try to pull away before he stops you.Ā 
ā€œTouch it, sweetheartā€ He encourages, wrapping your hand around it for you ā€œFeel it? Thatā€™s all you.ā€Ā 
A flush graces your features. For a minute, itā€™s all love and nothing more. Nothing less. Too briefly for it to mean anything, but enough for Gojo to know it. You wrap your hands around his shaft and stroke tentatively and Gojo groans shamelessly into you, rutting his hips into the round part of your palms.Ā 
ā€œFuck thatā€™s it,ā€
He looks at your expression, examining the concentration before chuckling. Your lip is poked out, eyes dazed. He pulls away from you, securing you close to him.Ā 
With the new proximity, he holds his cock close to you. Measure it up against your skin, against your tummy. He feels you against him, Around him, folds nudging apart for him, The skin on skin alone has him so breathless. A dizzy sort of feeling as he presses the tip of his cock hard against your clit. You feel like silk around him.Ā 
Looking at you like this, all helpless and needy, he canā€™t help but think about how easily he can overpower you. Heā€™s stronger and bigger. His cock would be enough to split you in half. How heā€™s gonna make himself fit inside of you spins in his mind over and over. Maybe like always, your pretty little pussy will yield just for him. Youā€™ll open and endure and take him so deep.Ā 
He canā€™t help appreciating it. Canā€™t keep his thoughts quiet from telling you.Ā 
ā€œSee that? How deep Iā€™m gonna go?ā€ He measures up to you. A hand on the bottom of your stomach, stroking his thumb ā€œGonna feel me right in here. You ready?ā€Ā 
You close your eyes and look away. Gojo grabs your chin and tuts at you.Ā 
ā€œNuh-uh. Want you to see. Donā€™t close your eyes.ā€Ā Ā 
Itā€™s not a question or a request.Ā 
So, you watch. Gojo lifts you up just enough to line up with your entrance and sinks you down so, so slowly on his cock. Itā€™s agonizing how slow. Itā€™s incredible how fucking good you feel. How perfect one sensation could possibly fucking be - Gojo could die here in complete bliss. He can feel the stretch of your pussy trying to accommodate. That sensation of resistance that sends him reeling, spine tingling and skin prickling with a heat so intense he feels like heā€™s going to pass out just sitting there.Ā 
And then thereā€™s looking at you, which proves to be an entirely new animal. You have this pinched expression, a shocked little gasp as Gojo pushes through. A whimper leaves your lips. Gojo rubs his thumb on your lower lip as he eases you down.Ā 
ā€œHurt too much?ā€Ā 
ā€œN-no. Justā€¦ feels weird.ā€Ā 
He laughs a little at your honesty, before fucking himself into you even deeper. Another inch and he really starts to feel you. Your walls feel like theyā€™re sucking him and Gojo wouldnā€™t leave if it killed him. He groans, deep in his chest as you shake. Your grip on his shoulders gets tighter and tighter.Ā 
With one more smooth thrust, Gojo sits you down on his cock completely. He feels so complete like this. Everything in him is at ease feeling your insides spasm and melt around him. He sighs contentedly.
ā€œStill okay?ā€Ā 
You nod weakly.Ā 
ā€œCan I move?ā€Ā 
Your reply is nothing more than a whimper.
So he does, but he does so slowly. Just to get into the rhythm. He thrusts up slowly.Ā 
ā€˜O-oh. Oh, oh itā€™s,ā€Ā 
He chuckles against the crook of your neck, hugging you close to him. He loves the way you feel against his body, the way your frame fits so perfectly into him. He rolls his hips up into you so thereā€™s no effort on you to move. You whine that time, and he does again and again until your voice is a mess.Ā 
ā€œStarting to feel good?ā€Ā 
ā€œS-satoru.ā€Ā 
He swears.Ā 
ā€œFuck, stop that,ā€ He swears ā€œGonnaā€”shit, gonna cum right away. Moving so hold onto me tight, baby.ā€Ā 
You take his words for it. Gojo feels your soft tits pressed into his chest as he pulls your hips up and starts fucking up into you. Each time he does, he feels like he can feel all the way to the back of you. None of his fantasies could compare to the feeling of being this deep inside, cock nudging against that sweet spot that keeps making you fucking mewl into his ear. He can hardly take it as it is now, focusing hard on not cumming until you do.
Making it good for you is his priority. Always has been, but you make it hard for him like you do most things.Ā 
ā€œTouch yourself for me, okay?ā€Ā 
You look at him surprised but listen to his request regardless. Gojo takes to fucking you steadily. He builds an even rhythm as he keeps you up, hands firm on your hips as he pistons you from underneath. The pleasure comes in waves, undulates as blood continues to rush to his cock. Heā€™s so hard he canā€™t think straight but he keeps each of his thrusts consistent, lines them with the pace you play with your clit so he can encourage you to cum for him.Ā 
He can tell youā€™re starting to feel good when your mouth falls agape. He drags on your walls with each punctuated movement and your thighs shake and tense. Everything comes together so slowly but the pleasure comes at once. Itā€™s a force thatā€™s nearly earth shattering. All the planets aligned, everything in the same plane. Everything for him and for you. For the togetherness heā€™s created and chased after so long.
Now this part of you is all his too.Ā 
ā€œSaā€”Satoru,ā€ You warn, your hands trembling and fingers cramped up with need. He grunts as he stares up at you through thrusts ā€œG-gonnaā€¦ā€Ā 
ā€œGonna cum for me? Gonna cum on my cock? Go on. Know you can do it, baby. So good for me. Perfect for me.ā€Ā 
Itā€™s all babbling for him now, the sensation hitting him in waves. Your mouth falls agape and you cum so hard Gojo can feel every fucking pulse. Squeezing his cock hard enough he wants to grit his teeth. He presses his mouth to yours instead as you moan out, unable to hold it in. He swallows every noise like heā€™s trying to embed them into himself.
You cum hard and fast and Gojo is so quick to follow you. Only seconds after you fall limp into his arms does he feel it - no longer able to stave off the urge to cum so deep in you it stays forever. To mark you deeply you never think of anything. Itā€™s almost animalistic for him. Every nerve on his body is on fire as he shoots his cum deep into you, sitting you on his dick with nowhere for you to go.Ā 
Panting, he pulls back to gaze on you. Heā€™s still hard as heā€™s twitching. He canā€™t hold off tonight, he doesnā€™t think. But heā€™ll give you a minute to collect yourself. He presses a kiss to your hairline.Ā 
He whispers softly as the night comes to a quiet, quiet still.Ā 
ā€œIā€™m yours and youā€™re mine baby. Forever and always.ā€Ā 
You shake. And Gojo knows you well enough to know that itā€™s the resentment coming back in waves. But thatā€™s okay, because Gojo loves you.Ā 
And with this, heā€™s taken everything.
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EPILOGUE / OVERTURE :Ā 
Your senses are accustomed to Gojo by now.Ā 
You never thought such a day would come. You spent the first year of this relationship (if you can call it that, to begin with) in trenches so deep you couldnā€™t really tell left from right. So many things persisted as normal, but nothing was ever the same.Ā 
In that, though, Gojo stayed by your side till the bitter end. He nursed you back into health and sometimes treated you so kindly that you could almost forget who you were dealing with. Sometimes the weight of everything became too heavy. You think you love Gojo almost as much as you hate him.
But it doesnā€™t particularly matter what your feelings are. Has it ever, in any of this? You always knew that something was strange but you didnā€™t think you were so clueless. Blindly following wherever his voice took you.Ā 
The first time you try to escape Gojo feels like so long ago. That time, he let you go quite far. You made it out of the house and even went out of the country during summer. But you were sloppy and inexperienced. When he found you and brought you back home, you figured it had been a fluke. Youā€™d learn from it. Youā€™d do it again and that time you would succeed.Ā 
Thatā€™s what you told yourself anyway. Itā€™s how this all started. Where you would run, and Gojo would let you before he started to miss you. Heā€™d come and heā€™d discipline but it was never too cruel.Ā 
(You wished it were. You wished it were sickly and sadistic and tortuous. You think itā€™s so much worse to beg for mercy when you are sobbing from pleasure. For Gojo to coddle and sedate you and never yield. You think youā€™d prefer if he were just out of it. Just cruel instead of what he is. Which is knowing but certain. Justified.)Ā 
This has been the farthest youā€™ve ever gotten. You donā€™t think youā€™ve ever been this far away from home. A cabin in the woods where you lived peacefully for days. You donā€™t know how Gojo found you.Ā 
You had been so sure. This was it. It had to be it.Ā 
Your heart shatters as you hear him. Feel him in your bones so much it frightens you. The world is covered in a sheet of white, and your ankles are bruisedĀ  and bleeding from where youā€™ve fallen. Youā€™re cold and your heart is beating so loud - but no matter how much you run you canā€™t find any heartbeat to motivate you.
Gojo pulls through the thickets with a frown on his face. Blue eyes and black coat, his feet crunch the snow as he comes towards you. You crawl away. You try too, anyways.Ā 
Gojo leans down to your level, looking at you closely. He reaches out to brush snow away from your skin.Ā 
ā€œMy birthdays soon, you know?ā€ He hums, not angry today. Not even wanting to discipline you ā€œItā€™s not a bad place, yā€™know? The cabin. We can spend some time there before we go home. Might be nice. But we should get going so we can check on your foot.ā€Ā 
He reaches his hand out to you this time. Too injured to run, you take it and he smiles before offering to carry you on his back. You hop on, arms around his neck and donā€™t even cry. A numbness settles.Ā 
It is not the cold.Ā 
ā€œOh, look,ā€ Gojo says, reaching his hands out ā€œSnowā€™s falling.ā€Ā 
You suppose it is. Another Winter will pass just like this.Ā 
A dog howls somewhere far off in the distance.
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faultlies Ā· 2 months ago
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QUESTIONS FOR VILLAIN MUSES.
5. What's makes your muse respect someone? Are they capable of respecting others without reason?
I think she respects people when she sees herself in them.
It feels like a major aspect of her dynamic with Ishmael; how gleeful she is at being obsessed over with the same blind hatred she herself has towards the whale. She praises Ishmael's desire sincerely, fondly reminisces about hearing her voice cry out her captain's name with such malice, and is overjoyed to define herself as Ishmael's whale.
Because it means she's filled Ishmael up with herself. She's made the girl into a mermaid. When she agrees to what is effectively a suicide-pact, it is as much sealing Ishmael's fate to be like Ahab as it is getting her to do exactly what she wants. Only with her support group, as weird and morally questionable as they all are, is Ishmael able to cut the rope that binds the two.
I feel for someone with a god complex like Ahab, seeing someone become like her because of how she affected them is a grand achievement. They're all still disposable, of course. The whole world can be thrown away if it'd get in the way of her whale. Ishmael may earn her captain's respect through how badly she wants to kill her, but Ahab still intends to let her die in a sinking whale's carcass after their final voyage. Again, the office scene is essentially a suicide-pact.
But it is, in many ways, a reaffirmation of her worldview. That she is the absolute; the way the world is meant to be. She is in control.
Why wouldn't she respect her own work?
9. What's a line your muse won't cross under any circumstance?
I think what's interesting about Ahab is how effortlessly she crosses lines and changes her standards in order to stay in control. This is even a notable piece of characterization that drives home canto 5's plot, as well as its themes!
Ahab spends the voyage swearing up-and-down that she won't let any of her sailors die. Then, when Stubb gets bit, she practically kills him herself by revoking his sense of identity to use him. What lays on her deck is only a mermaid; the real Stubb lost somewhere at sea, never to be found. But still alive, she says! A skiff has been lowered to save him, for she'd never let one of her own die!
But he still deliberately sacrificed himself. The fault lies with him. Now he is both 'alive' and a martyr. As the mermaid pallidifies at her feet, she leads her crew in a ritual chant that reaffirms their pledge to the cause. Even the mermaid joins in, vowing its loyalty in the name of who it once was.
Ahab always operates like this. She'll promise anything if it'll bring her closer to her target. She'll break those promises just as quickly, but will use her charisma, groupthink, and manipulation tactics to get you to believe she didn't. After she kills her crew on the way to the whale's heart, and Ishmael calls her out, Ahab deflects that the crew should've been willing to sacrifice themselves the moment they stepped on her ship. She is always redrawing the map of reality, and because she is Ahab, the redraws must be absolutely true.
Ahab defines the line, and keeps redefining it to stay in control.
I think the closes thing to a 'line' she won't cross is giving up her hunt. Ishmael stealing her kill is what breaks her, and it's how Hermann does to her what she did to Ishmael: dangling the promise of satiating an obsession over her head.
@fooltarot , @collectalong
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toprayarc Ā· 4 months ago
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BAD COPS, GOOD CRIMINALS, AND SOMETHING IN-BETWEEN: A BACKGROUND DRABBLE, DEPICTING THE EVENTS PREVIOUS TO MARI'S DESCENT TO BEING ON THE RUN. CANON CREATED IN AFFILIATION WITH @TOCOOK, @METHEMPIRE, AND @GUSTAVOS. CONTENT WARNINGS ARE AS FOLLOWSā€” ABUSE MENTIONS, C-PTSD SYMPTOMS, ADDICTION / DRUG USE, ABUSE OF POWER, MURDER / DEATH, VIOLENCE, MANIPULATION.
in 2001, philadelphia police department send their best and brightest (otherwise known as the individuals with more bendable moral codes) to the door of state judge kenji daiā€™s home. with a notepad in hand, and a crooked jaw set straight, mike ehrmantraut presses a little further into a domestic dispute call than what self preservation tells him to. work with me, kid, he murmurs beneath a tired tone and a sidestepped gaze from the nearby father. give me something to go off of, he pushes, but sixteen year old mari dai is watching her hands unfold and refold in her lap, shrugging her shoulders inward, and telling him there isnā€™t anything to give. thereā€™s nothing to talk about, she mutters, and traces the side of her sock onto the hardwood flooring. thanks for checking in, is what her father says as they leave, wrapping his grasp around the edge of the front door, but mikeā€™s stare never strays off the beaten path in the slightest, watching carefully as the white-clad teenager in question peeks her way out from the closed curtains ā€” and then abruptly disappears.
several days later, in the closed-blinded office of philadelphiaā€™s police department, mike ehrmantraut is biting out the words something is going on in that house. a sigh circulates in return, giving empty advice that neither officer of the law believes to amount to anything: you wanna make an accusation, mike ā€”Ā  you go right ahead. canā€™t stop you. but you and i both know how this goes. the silence sits between the two, and a bitter-breathed exhale works in tandem with an exit, leading his patrol car right down the street mike had driven down only a few days previous. the crackle of gravel aligns with his window rolling downward, pace slowing to creep in an approach to the driveway that now has carved itself empty: with the exception of one. a frown digs into the side of his cheek, watching as a distant form collects little shards of what he can only assume to be the remains of a bottle, tucking them into a crinkled plastic bag, and looking over her shoulder every few seconds. any slow pace has lulled to a stop, brakes creaking and meeting the gaze of a blank-faced sixteen year old. what do you want, she spits from across the yard, all heat and no quiet hesitation, and itā€™s almost enough to make him chuckle. instead, he raises his eyebrows just the slightest, and tells her heā€™s just doing his rounds. iā€™m checking in, is what he means, and they both know it. she stares at him for a moment longer, picks up a final shard of glass to fold inside of her palm briefly, and tells him thereā€™s probably something more important going on elsewhere. he pauses, the faint rustle of windchimes ringing in the distance, and says simply: no, i donā€™t think there is.
only a year later does word circulate about matt ehrmantrautā€™s death, with mariā€™s close ear to the ground hearing murmurs and whispers on how stand-up cop mike ehrmantraut is drowning in grief. at dinnertime, her finger traces along the warped edge of her desk, sheltered into her room, and pries out a fake i.d from the box hidden in the very back of her closet. silent steps carry her out of her front door, catching the nearest bus and working her way into a bar that surrounds her in the hustle and bustle of a world she only finds a brief reprieve in. the taste of a watered down whiskey hits the back of her throat, spinning the glass in her palm as she watches the inā€™s and outā€™s of a dive bar that find it just not worth their time to argue with her by now. sheā€™s got an answer for everything, theyā€™re not paid enough to care, and her fake i.d is passable enough to get her in the door. what more do they need? ignorance in the face of the law isnā€™t breaking the law ā€” itā€™s just ignorance. plausible deniability, and no one in this town gives enough of a shit to figure out anything otherwise.
living vicariously through the chatter in bars has been enough to know a little more about the cop who wouldnā€™t stop making his rounds in mariā€™s neighborhood, and once the non-concealable scar came with no return from her and only a glimpse of her gaze through the drawn-curtained window, any brief conversations held dwindled down to nothing. her choices are limited, his options were none, and trying to find an out through a law that abides by nothing but dollar signs and false hierarchies isnā€™t a dream that mari has ever invested into. but sometimes, she likes to hear about him. sometimes, she likes to think of the things she could say. itā€™s only on the chances of picking just the right dive bar at just the right time that makes those hushed whispers into something more of a reality ā€” a gruff voice familiarizing itself at the end of the bar. her back molar outlines the inside of her cheek, still fresh with a nervous-found wound, before impulse overrides any logic.
people say drinking alone is dangerous, is what she tosses out into the air as she hops onto a nearby barstool. mikeā€™s voice rumbles, not quite as humorous as it is dry, letting her know that heā€™s heard something similar about teen drinking. a smirk twitches at the corner of her lip, an empty glass nudged his way, with her stare fixating on a nearby bartender briefly. a fluid defense of it not looking like sheā€™s got anything left to drink contrasts with a slow introduction to truth, hindered only by a pause before mariā€™s voice drops to a low murmur. she says thanks ā€” any reasonings going unsaid, with quiet implications and silent understandings knitting themselves underneath. another pause stretches outward, with her finger tracing over the edge of the bar and a swallow of mikeā€™s drink working itself between his lips. the clock ticks onward, a repetitive touch circling itself over a worn surface, before she tacks on one additional word after: sorry. it breathes itself hesitant, as if not quite sure what to apologize for, and the gentle clink of mikeā€™s glass returns to the space in front of him.
something close to a bittered wane wedges itself into his voice, boomeranging the sentiment right back to her. me too. the statement is simple, as plain as hers is, and neither need more of a heart-to-heart to pinpoint just where it hurts. mariā€™s gaze watches as the remainder of his drink dissipates, leaving nothing but a hollow-shell and a bar napkin stuck beneath it. as the minutes waste themselves away, and the last drops of liquor swipe themselves clean, mike heaves out a sigh, and tugs a pen from his jacket pocket. iā€™m moving on, he states, all gruff and factual with only a scribble of numbers to spare. he stands, the napkin nudging against her palm, as a stare levels out to her. look after yourself, kid, he advices, and gestures to the dim surroundings of the bar. you wonā€™t find anything good in places like this.
the calls come in small increments. how are you holding up, keep an eye on your mother, and is that boyfriend of yours behaving himself all stack into five minute phone calls that span out over the years. she tells him things in returnĀ  ā€”Ā  like sheā€™s holding up just fine, her mother should learn how to take care of herself, and her boyfriend never behaves himself so mike should give up on that dream. sometimes sheā€™ll get a brief chuckle through the phone, sometimes she can hear a distant huff of disapproval, and sometimes itā€™s a silence that says everything she needs to know. itā€™s nothing special, but itā€™s a secret that keeps itself contained to just the bare essentials. mike doesnā€™t need to know anything more than what she tells him, but his stand-up citizen routine doesnā€™t fool her. he left the very day after two cops dropped dead, and she doesnā€™t need to hear the shots ring out to know who the hell pulled the trigger. itā€™s why she keeps calling, she thinks. part of why she keeps calling, at least, because thereā€™s some pieces of her past she doesnā€™t know how to let go of, and that younger year, sort-of-tipsy self being given ten digits towards a lifeline isnā€™t something she takes lightly.
so much so, that when her apartment space clears and her life bumps down to a population count of one, thereā€™s no hesitation in packing her bags and sob-storying her way into a one way plane ticket to new mexico. mari needs a clean slate, mike found his in that city 5 years ago, and albuquerque welcomes her in with a straight faced mike ehrmantraut running his hand over his face as she dials his number for a couch to crash on. three days and some subtle amounts of digging later, he tells her two weeks, as she changes the channel for the 10th time in their conversation. and no visitors, he adds, with just a little less patience than before. her tongue clicks against her cheek, humming as she presses a button on the remote again, and tosses out a comment that runs any last patience downward. why, you got something to hide? her shit-eating smirk meets his unamused disapproval, and any formal barriers shred themselves shy. nothing you havenā€™t already tried to find, he responds, and unsaid understandings birth anew. mariā€™s laugh echoes through the room, telling him sheā€™s glad his skills arenā€™t slipping in his old age. he shakes his head, and only pauses in his step as she follows up with a piece of advice: you might want to consider some other hiding spots, though. mari clicks through a channel, flashes her pearly whites in a grin, and finishes any last wipe-aways of lies with a tauntĀ  ā€”Ā  your collection of suppressors is pretty tempting for a girl like me.
mike could tell himself that he gets her in the door with gustavo fring for the sake of his couch being free again, but he doesnā€™t. the world is a rat-race of whoever bears their teeth the sharpest, and mari may have proved sheā€™s a sharp-shooter and a clean-criminal, but he still remembers the days before her left eye had a permanent reminder on why she became that way. sheā€™s older, wiser, but not as old and wise as he is, and he knows thereā€™s something beneath all those laugh-tracked smirks and casual callousness. heā€™s got too many memories of her looking over her shoulder to focus entirely on the days that she doesnā€™t. or, seemingly doesnā€™t, because their weekly diner chats and early morning pop-ups seem to be the only thing that she keeps around in her life. she does her job well, sheā€™s more than equipped for her line of work, but heā€™s been around the block enough times to know that padlocking the world shut comes at a cost. mike may roll his eyes as she dumps 10 packets of sugar and too many cups of creamer into her 6am coffee, but if he chooses to stand outside while she burns down a cigarette and makes just a little more conversation than usual, heā€™s in no denial that it might be the only conversation of the day she has. so, maybe he was never a good cop. maybe heā€™s not even a good criminal. but, at the very least, mike thinks he owes it to her to try to be a good friend.
by the time 2009 rolls around, and mariā€™s life is a work-play cycle on repeat, mike tosses the consideration of suggesting to find a friend her age between his teeth. it never makes its way out, in a careful reminder of just who mari dai is ā€” and what she refuses to be ā€” but he does find a little relief when she mentions plans that are more comfortable, rather than concerning. iā€™m going birdwatching with a friend, she admits after a diner breakfast that only finds itself half eaten. her fork nudges at syrup-soaked pancakes, cheek resting in her palm as her gaze raises. an eyebrow perks, humor concealing any small admittances that mike doesnā€™t miss. got any advice, old man? she teases, and he swallows a mouthful of black coffee before telling her a little sliver of truth he isnā€™t so sure sheā€™s going to listen to. donā€™t overcomplicate it, he murmurs, adjusting his palm against the newspaper, and choosing to ignore when mari asks whatā€™s so complicated about birdwatching. avoidance, he knows, is more of an answer than she wants it to be.
however, that friend in question seems to be a little more close to home than expected. jesse pinkman: textbook addict, meth cook sidekick, the unfortunate companion of a man that mike thinks has never learned the meaning of quit while heā€™s ahead, and apparently, mari daiā€™s newfound friend. itā€™s a thin line between business and pleasure that skews into nothing, when her routine presence turns to absence and her phone skips to voicemail. heā€™s aware mari has her fair share of hobbies ā€”- some of which are people ā€” but skipping out on work is a waving red flag if heā€™s ever seen one. itā€™s not hard to figure out where sheā€™s ended up, and any suspicions turn factual when her re-entry into the workplace is lock-jawed and jittery. addiction, regardless of mariā€™s so-called functionality, is still addiction, and her exceptional skills donā€™t make her any exception to the rule. her indulgent habits have never made her a liability before, but mike is well aware: this wonā€™t fly. theyā€™ve both got a boss to answer to, and the product theyā€™re pushing has no place to become something that mari keeps on taking. but getting her to do something she doesnā€™t want to do, comes down to not just one factor, but two. if sheā€™s got a supplier, mikeā€™s dose of advice wonā€™t cease any downward spiral dealings, and jesse pinkman has enough on his plate as is.
you know his policy, mike sighs against the spark of her lighter and a pupil-blown blink. smoke billows between them, a hand flicking a flame to life repetitively as mari tries to fend off the inevitable. itā€™s never been an issue before, she bites out along with a short sniff and a stand-still gaze that only adds onto the already-existing issue. he keeps his tone straight, leveling a stare that says more than what his words do. youā€™re right, he affirms, before letting discretion speak the rest of his implications. this hasnā€™t been an issue before. mike knows, just like she does, that this high-rise of a behavior isnā€™t comparable to any past discussions on late-night drinking or numb-toothed recreations, and trying to fool a man like him, isnā€™t as easy as any stray idiots she decides to drag through her front door. mari draws from her cigarette, flicks her lighter to life again, and then drops her gaze. it makes things easier, she murmurs in the midst of another cloud of smoke. mike quiets, trying to find the line dividing business and personal matters, and picks something in-between. no, he says, as gentle as it is, firm. it really doesnā€™t.Ā 
in an impromptu evening of what mike has decided to deem as something of a payment on an infinite debt, mari has found herself on his couch yet again. over the years, heā€™s learned that sheā€™ll only sit tucked into the very corner of the left side of the couch, and she wonā€™t ingest a single movie he decides to put on. he watches his tv, mari blasts music from a bygone era through her headphones, and occasionally, theyā€™ll say something. tonight, however, is not following any of those rules. she sits in the middle of his couch, the sides of her forearms resting on her knees, and her hands clasped together as if preparing for a prayer. iā€™m guessing you know who my friend is, she exhales through a slightly bittered laugh. mike gives a hmph of a noise in confirmation, pours himself a cup of coffee, and prepares for whatever confrontation mari has in mind. yet, instead, she blinks down at the ground, traces her sock over the hardwood flooring like sheā€™d done so many years ago, and asks him what his opinion on jesse pinkman is. any surprise is filtered away from his features, replaced with a contemplative silence that tells her heā€™s choosing his words carefully. little fish, in a big pond, he starts, and then swallows a sigh, finishing his admittance: and heā€™s starting to drown.
a week later, mariā€™s voice is carrying itself over the phone in a haphazard panic that tells mike heā€™s got about ten minutes or less before sheā€™s past the point of no return. absolutely not, sheā€™s repeating, the faint jingle of keys in the background eliciting an upturn of his head to stare at the ceiling. youā€™re not going to fucking mexico without me, she continues, her words rushing together. she presses onward, telling him he can tell gustavo fring himself that she doesnā€™t trust this. if he needs an enforcer, she says, iā€™ve more than proved myself. the slam of her car door aligns with her half-sales pitch, half-plea. that is not what this is about, mike responds, his slow pace of words contrasting hers. it is not in your best interest, or mine, to go off book on this one. a pause in any rustle or background noise gifts a sign of getting through, and mike takes his cue to carry onward. itā€™ll be two days, and then weā€™re back to business, he reassures, and mari swallows. her forehead presses against her steering wheel, keys palmed into her hand as her eyes close. promise me, mike, she murmurs through the receiver, sounding just a little bit more like that sixteen year old girl, and mike closes his eyes too. i promise, he says, and forces himself to keep it at that.
two days and a notice of mikeā€™s recuperation period later, mariā€™s holding well over twenty insults and reasons on exactly why she didnā€™t trust that mexico trip to begin with behind her tongue. gustavo fring may deal with her less-than-serious comments she dishes out, but arguing with him over something thatā€™s already happened is a waste of her goddamn energy. instead, she bides her time, and thinks that the next time mike decides to go on a stay-cation across the border, sheā€™s not giving in for anything. the days pass slowly, with jesse dwindling out into the distance with his on-again off-again girlfriend, and mari designates her new task as familiarizing herself with the empty corners of her apartment. that new task of hers, however, doesnā€™t make it to even two weeks, before gustavo fring is dropping dead, and mikeā€™s voice is slinging back across the receiver. his words rumble through the speaker of her phone, telling her itā€™s only a matter of time, and reminding her that a one-way ticket to elsewhere is a small price to pay. what about you, she tosses out into the speaker-phoned conversation as she packs, and mikeā€™s sigh is disgruntled enough for her to imagine the twitch of his lip to follow. iā€™ve got to wrap things up, he says, and then pauses long enough for her to visualize him holding back another sigh. and then? mari prompts, because neither are under the impression that the suggestion of a matter of time doesnā€™t apply to him, either. on the other end of the phone, mike glances out to 308 negra arroyo lane, and tells her heā€™ll be getting the hell out of dodge, too.
marissa dai died plenty of years ago, and planning a pseudo-death is a security measure in maintaining the existence of mari, herself. excessive is what mike had called it back when sheā€™d first mentioned the idea, but thorough, is what mariā€™s decided to call it, now. recreating herself is something she does figuratively as is, and slapping on a new name to match is nothing sheā€™s got any room to be sentimental over. being mari dai has its perks, but thereā€™s more of a risk, now, and while leaving the few connections she has behind isnā€™t her first choice, it happens to be the only one available. that is, until jesseā€™s contact name is flashing on her screen, with a ramble about a poison cigarette that has somehow removed itself from his pockets, and only one person who fits the bill on why theyā€™d take it to begin with. walter white is a name that hasnā€™t ever quite made it into the conversation, but mariā€™s been circulating the great heisenberg for longer than heā€™s been aware of. it doesnā€™t take an idiot to put two and two together, she thinks, but it takes a particular brand of man to condition someone into this level of submission. or devotion. or both, because mariā€™s no stranger to the big-egoed eagerly-greedy kind of man that walter seems to be, and reading out the situation is as instinctive as any of her next moves are. but first, she needs more information, and mike ehrmantraut is full of it.
give me a rundown on what you know about jesse pinkman, is what she leads with. below ten minutes, and any thoughts on his partner are appreciated, is what she adds on afterwards. thereā€™s hardly a pause, before mikeā€™s response of should i ask why, is as flat as mari expects it to be. the faint rustle of the phone pairs with a scoff, her head shaking as her car flies through a stop sign and her palm adjusts on the wheel. iā€™m not killing him, if thatā€™s your concern, she retorts, and swerves out and around a car thatā€™s decidedly going too slow for her taste. mike reels out the hits, avoids any too-personal touches, and, in under ten minutes, delivers a nearly-full rundown on the man in question ā€” with a few jabs at walter mixed in the middle. after 20 seconds of what mike can only assume to be a processing time, mari clicks her tongue, gives a hmph of contemplation, and then says thanks, before abruptly hanging up. he closes his phone, slides it into his pocket, and knows that that conversation most certainly will not be the end of it.
itā€™s no surprise when mike picks up the phone to mari asking for a favor. what is, however, is the specific favor in question. even more, is the sheer determination in it. heā€™s been around mari for long enough to know when to sway her mind, and when itā€™s near impossible to even try. picking your battles with her is the most efficient and effective route, and this isnā€™t a battle he believes sheā€™s ready or willing to give up. whatā€™s your move here, he asks through a veiled layer of uncertainty, and mari hesitates. he needs an out, she says, her voice shrinking for only half of a second. mari inhales, sliding her hand around the rings that dangle around her neck, and finishes her answer as simply as she can: iā€™m prepared to give him one.
a way out isnā€™t as clean or efficient as mari had planned on, but sheā€™s chalking that up to a business-woman whoā€™s gone off leash. handcuffs, a DEA agent, or even a warrant out for her arrest were all on the list of risks in lingering around to try to get an ending tied up in a bow, but this? this wasnā€™t quite expected. an answer to who has it out for her is cursive looped in lydia rodarte-quayleā€™s name, and while mariā€™s sure mike has tried his best to deter her hit-man hiring activities, she wouldā€™ve preferred if it was through a bullet, rather than a stern warning. spending an already risky afternoon disposing of a body is more than just an annoyance, and at this point: itā€™s a liability.
after she catches her breath, mikeā€™s ten digits dial into her phone, and mariā€™s tone weathers thin as it crackles through the other end. get ahold of your chihuahua associate, she drawls. iā€™m risking enough as is, and while iā€™d love to tally some numbers up in any other circumstance, iā€™m not feeling too competitive right now. mikeā€™s jaw clicks, mari takes his silence as an understanding, and continues. i canā€™t stick around, she states, and sinks a bite into the inside of her cheek. a beat of silence stagnates, and then her point forges forward. but iā€™m taking him with me. neither end of the call needs a name, to know exactly who sheā€™s talking about, and mike slowly hauls himself upward, adjusting the phone in his hand. alright. his confirmation is brief, moving to pluck his keys off of the counter. he pauses. now? the question sits, both parties still attempting to pick options out of a mess that provides nearly none. mari inhales, exhales, and digs her shoe into the gravel beneath her. eventually, she speaks, her gaze darting to the skies.Ā  i guess thereā€™s no time like the present.
the crawl of mikeā€™s car coming to a stop parks right along the street, a short whine of his brakes echoing outward. the creak of his door opening doesnā€™t depart mariā€™s stare from the house that sits across from them, her lips wrapped around what heā€™d assume to not be her first cigarette upon arrival. he could ask if sheā€™s ready, but this isnā€™t the type of situation that either of them were ever fully ready to encounter to begin with, so he simply listens to the crackle of tobacco and her slow exhales. thanks, she says, as if itā€™s almost a secret. and, to her, maybe it is. smoke flies out and up into the air, catching itself through the wind, and mike spares a glance her way. ash flutters downward, as she leans herself against her car. iā€™m sorry, she murmurs, and mike doesnā€™t need to ask what for. after a beat, he clasps his hands, leaning against her car beside her, and says donā€™t be, because leaving an old man whoā€™s been on this road for a long time isnā€™t anything to be sorry for. sheā€™s got a whole lot of life ahead of her, and the least mike can hope for, is that she wonā€™t spend it forcing herself to be alone. he knows, just like she does, that as much as mari may paint herself selfish, and choose only a select few to do differently for, no one is as loyal as her.Ā 
though, jesse pinkman, he thinks, may come pretty damn close.
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grislyintentions Ā· 4 months ago
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|| Beauty ; Reimagined ||
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For: @reallyrandomtj
"You are afraid."
The words ring more like a definitive answer than a query when they left Yaoshi's mouth, further cemented by the thrumming heartbeat beneath one of their hands that had sought purchase across the Knight's chest.
More of their hands soon follow the first; Two clasped against his waist and torso. The Aeon exhales softly and the flowers blooming in their presence seem to sigh with them as thick vines weave amidst themselves to form a comfortable perch.
"Your faith endures yet your heart is weak. You fear that your resolve will shake and crumble into nothingness as weariness encroaches upon you."
Yaoshi spoke in a murmur right next to the spot below the redhead's ear, mouth brushing against patch of skin in butterfly-soft touch with each word uttered. Not quite a kiss. Not innocent enough to be innocuous either.
"You yearn for rest. I know better than most: it is writ in your flesh, skin, and bones. Yet you dare not allow yourself respite or companionship. Tell me. Argenti."
Sharp nails glide down the length of his shoulder, stroking at the length of his arm in a long sensual drag and back up again. The Thousand-Handed Merciful Medicus trails a finger down past his collarbones, the valley of his chest, torso, and hip.
"Do you love Idrila as much as you fear her? If you do....why do you believe yourself to have been...forsaken? Why would she deem you unfit to find rest and comfort when mortals require so to flourish? Is the definition of true beauty- flagellation of flesh and soul?"
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fictionkinfessions Ā· 7 days ago
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Maybe we can join a Discord server for fictives, where we can be ourselves. Iā€™m hesitant though. I have had really terrible experiences with people faking ā€œfictivesā€ to be manipulative to me and my friends. Itā€™s not like I always assume people are faking, but Iā€™m really afraid of being taken advantage of againā€¦
(Iā€™m sorry if this seems overall ableist/anti-system. Honestly part of why Iā€™m so hesitant is cause Iā€™m rly afraid of being that way by mistake. I understand if you have to delete thisšŸ™)
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armoricaroyalty Ā· 2 years ago
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Andre's promises weren't worth much, but he had never intentionally misled her. It was the sort of thing you could substitute for trustworthiness, in a pinch.
Previous | Chapter Start | From the Beginning | Next
authorā€™s note: according to the timestamps on the DMs, the andre/leonor affair started out as a joke on december 16th and then became an entire fleshed-out thing in record time. this was supposed to be a quick diversion and here we are, 3 months later...
9:17 PM / February 27th, 2016
FREDERICK | ...how could you? In public? Surrounded by press? FREDERICK | Youā€™re not even trying to hide it. Itā€™s like you donā€™t even care. ANDRE | Thatā€™s unfair ā€” FREDERICK | [scoffs] Unfair? To who? Your wife, maybe? You know, my mom? ANDRE | [sighs] Iā€™m not going behind her back, Freddy. She knows about Leonor. She always has. FREDERICK | ā€˜Always has?ā€™ How long has this been going on? How long have you been lying to everyone? ANDRE | Freddy please, I never lied ā€” FREDERICK | Bullshit! You lied, Dad! Youā€™ve been cheating on Mom ā€” ANDRE | Please, keep your voice down ā€” ANDRE | ā€”and give me a chance to explain. Itā€™s not what you think. FREDERICK | I saw you! I saw the two of you together! ANDRE | And Iā€™m not denying it! Leonor is...very important to me. ANDRE | [swallows] When my mother died, I ā€”Ā  I had to be strong. I became the Crown Prince overnight and they never gave me time to grieve. ANDRE | [offscreen] Leonor never expected me to play a role. She gave me space to grieve. She took care of me. FREDERICK | [offscreen] So you slept with her? ANDRE | [offscreen] No. You have to believe me: I never crossed that line. FREDERICK | [offscreen] Did you love her? ANDRE | [offscreen] ...yes. ANDRE | I loved her and I loved your mother. I loved them both, but I chose your mother. For twenty years, I chose her ā€” and her. All three of you. ANDRE | Twenty years, Freddy. I loved your mother, I raised you kids. I did everything everyone asked of me. And now, I want to do one thing for me. ANDRE | I never meant to hurt anyone. FREDERICK | ...I donā€™t think that matters, Dad. FREDERICK | You used my international debut to meet up with your mistress. Was this whole thing just an excuse for you to get your dick wet? ANDRE | [shocked] Frederick ā€” FREDERICK | No! You donā€™t get to lecture me, youā€™re a liar and a cheater ā€” ANDRE | Life isnā€™t black and white, Frederick. Someday youā€™ll understand ā€” FREDERICK | No, Dad, Iā€™m not like you! Iā€™m not a selfish piece of shit! Iā€™ll never understand why you would cheat on your wife, who loves you. ANDRE | [sighs] I hope so. I hope youā€™re a better man than me. If you are...thatā€™s your motherā€™s influence, I think. ANDRE | Your mother is a good woman. She deserves better...And thatā€™s why I have to ask you to keep this a secret. You can gate me, but donā€™t make this public. Donā€™t humiliate her like that. ANDRE | Iā€™m proud of you, Freddy. Youā€™ve been working so hard. FREDERICK | Dad... ANDRE | Iā€™ve been holding you back. I was worried...but I shouldnā€™t have been. Youā€™re a good kid, I know youā€™ll do the right thing. FREDERICK | I... FREDERICK | I wonā€™t tell anyone. ANDRE | [offscreen] Promise? FREDERICK | Promise. ANDRE | [offscreen] Youā€™re a good man, Freddy. Thank you. FREDERICK | [offscreen] Sure. FREDERICK | [offscreen] Iā€™m not doing it for you. ANDRE | [offscreen] I know. FREDERICK | [offscreen] Iā€™m doing it for Mom. ANDRE | [offscreen] I know.
LEONOR | Did you speak to him? ANDRE | I did. LEONOR | What did he say? Are we going to be tomorrowā€™s headline? ANDRE | Donā€™t worry about Freddy. He wonā€™t say a word. LEONOR | Good. LEONOR | Thank you. ANDRE | Leo... ANDRE | Weā€™ve said good-bye too many times. I wonā€™t let you go again. LEONOR | Promise? ANDRE | Promise.
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the-kinfesssional Ā· 6 months ago
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Oh god I'm so sad. He killed me and he told me he loved me but this whole time he had been using me, I did everything for him and he just. I'm sorry. I just got a flood of kin memories today. (How are you?/g)
Im fine, maybe sick but fine
And it's okay. I know it hurts, but the past is the past and we can try to work through it
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