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tired-biscuit · 1 year ago

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fem!reader // age gap; bakugou is in his early 30s, reader is in her 20s.

bakugou gives me “get off my lawn!” vibes.

i imagine him gardening in front of his new home in a quiet little neighbourhood that he’s moved into after a particular scandal — the idea recommended as a solution to easing his temper in one of his anger management classes that his friends had somehow managed to convince him to go to — when his wrath comes face to face with you for the very first time.

he’s kneeling in front of the little garden that’s situated underneath his living room window as he digs his hands into the soil, no gloves, and with dirt pushing underneath his fingernails so deep that he’ll only be able to scrub it out when he finally heads inside to take a shower later.

so, he’s tending to the small patch of soil. with his brow furrowed and his teeth repeatedly sinking into the inside of his cheek, the temporarily-retired pro hero is visibly trying so hard to not crumple the flowers that he’s spent ages fighting to keep alive in their little pots ever since the day his stupid therapist had instructed him to buy the seeds, put them on the windowsill, take care of them, and watch them grow just like the calmness and the ‘zen’ in him is supposed to, or whatever the fuck.

and sure enough, the little fuckers actually grew. they grew so big actually, that he now has to complete yet another pesky task, consisting of finding them a new spot where they can fully flourish before they can get the chance to overtake his entire window, bed, room, even him, perhaps.

grumbling under his breath, the raging blond feels somewhat proud as he stares at his little creations. i mean, who knew he had it in him? a proper green thumb; attached to the explosive, otherwise oftentimes murderous palm of katsuki fucking bakugou!

and speaking of murderous: the look on katsuki’s face is a near perfect example of the word as he goes to place the first plant into the little hole that he’s just finished digging up. with his crimson eyes dangerously narrowed, he watches intently how the petals bend, as well as the leaves, whilst he picks up the poor flower and starts transfering it from pot to soil.

luckily, neither break or tear under his thick fingers. he’s being gentle and delicate for a change — adjectives people would never describe him with at first glance, nor after getting to know him a little bit better. no, he’s a grump through and through, and the focus in his head is so high now, in fact, that it even causes a wrinkle to etch itself deep into the middle of his forehead, accentuating the previous statement even further.

but that grump in him really manages to shine through the moment a football suddenly appears out of nowhere and knocks over one of the pots he’s brought outside only minutes prior.

tink! — a thin little crack appears on one side of the pot, now. bakugou, holding his breath without even realizing it, watches as it spreads through the glazed ceramic. the flower lays limply on the concrete step beside the garden that it’s just been knocked into. it had been his favourite one of the plants, the petals were so pretty and in a gorgeous shade of orange, but he can’t dwell on it; not when the crack is still spreading.

it’s spreading, spreading, spreading. just like the anger that bubbles within him.

tink, tink, crack! — the pot is chipped. a little piece of it crumbles off and falls onto the step.

oh, no. it’s ruined. it’s all ruined and the perfectionist in him is screaming.

and fuck, red fury swoops upon bakugou’s mind like a hawk at that. it’s such a small thing, a mere accident, but he just can’t help it; life’s been hard as of late. with his jaw clenched and all anger management lessons forgotten, he grabs the football and tightens his hold around it with both hands until he can feel the sparks dancing on his palms. until he can feel the warmth start to radiate from them.

the heat makes the synthetic leather hiss. it tingles, from his hands, all over his body. he hasn’t indulged in his quirk in such a long time. it feels good, even if the emotions that now plague and storm his outraged mind are awfully bitter.

and as for rage…

“are you fucking kidding me?!” his voice booms through the air as he pushes up to his full height in one swift, scary movement. “you stupid, brainless brats; how many fuckin’ times have i told you not to play he—”

it’s not often that katsuki stops in his tracks mid-sentence — especially in the midst of such a venomous one, at that — but the moment he whirls around and lays his eyes on you, deadly silence falls.

i mean, how can he not turn quiet? jesus on a cross, there’s a girl standing in front of him now, instead of a kid or an old lady. an actual girl, and she’s fucking gorgeous.

dressed in comfortable shorts, a cute crop top that shows just a sliver of your stomach, and colourful, almost childish flip-flops, your skin looks like it’d be warm to the touch if he were to stroke it. the sunshine that blazes above you on this hot summer’s day, causes sweat to glimmer in a layer so thin on your forehead. it makes the little hairs that frame your pretty face curl because of the way they’re turning damp with salt. makes the side of your neck have a certain sheen to it as well.

bakugou’s head cocks to the side as he assesses you further. sure, it’s hot out, however the heat doesn’t seem to be the main reason as to why you look so appealingly disheveled. after all, you’re inhaling and exhaling fast, and your shoulders are rising and falling even quicker as you seem to be trying to catch your breath.

did you run all the way over here?

“sorry… hi! lemme just… ah… catch my breath for a quick second… gosh.” he blinks at the sound of your voice as you raise your hand in apology before resting both of them onto your knees and bending over at the middle. your demeanor almost seems sheepish when you look up at him from underneath your lashes, still trying to ease your breathing. “i’m so, so, so sorry for your flowers, mister dynamight, sir…! my little brother kicked the football way too hard as we were playing a game he made up, so i just… i, uh, i ran over here to apologize on his behalf, and to… get the ball back.”

katsuki quirks a brow as he lets his gaze fall to the football he still holds in his hands, and for which you’re so clearly asking to get back, now. he knows the kid who you’re referring to as your brother — an especially irritating little menace that’s been sucking his blood through a goddamn straw, with all the pranks he and the group of brats he calls his friends have been initiating on his property as of late.

and sure enough, when he looks over your shoulder, the little shit is nowhere to be found.

the thought of the kid continuously stepping on his nerves for the last few weeks angers him in a flash, making his grip on the football tighten and start to smoulder; it makes smoke spiral in thin lines underneath his fingertips. though, when he lifts his gaze and lets his eyes land on you again — on that stupidly pretty, sweaty face of yours — bakugou surprisingly feels that white-hot rage somewhat disippating bit by bit.

hand to heart, he’s intrigued by you. you don’t seem to mind being in his presence, despite the fact that you seem to know fully well who exactly he is. and if you know that, then you’re surely familiar with the rumours and gossip that never cease to follow a big name like his. as well as the public announcement, talking about his — forced — temporary retirement from the hero business, because of the consistently violent outbursts he had failed to tame over the years.

for fuck’s sake, the dynamight is your neighbour, and you seem to be outright unbothered by it. it’s peculiar as fuck.

and it’s also the reason why the only thing he grunts out now, is, “you’re new.”

“i’m sorry?” that surprises you. your brief confusion is evident in the way you straighten, as well as how your own head lightly tilts so that you can look at him properly for the first time ever since you’ve stepped foot on the patch of land he should be calling home.

“you’re new,” he repeats simply, jerking his chin towards your direction and pointing the football at you. “i haven’t seen ya ‘round here before.”

“oh—ohh…” there it is; a wonderful smile appears on your otherwise pouty lips as you smack your forehead in realization. “yeah; that totally makes sense! i came back home just a couple of days ago to spend summer break with my family, so that’s probably why you haven’t seen me around yet.”

summer break. so you must be still in college? it’s not odd that you’re still a student, with a tight body like that, clothes so revealing and scarce, and a face that just screams youth, youth, youth. adding it all together, bakugou catches himself feeling not all that thrown off by the fact that you’re in school, pursuing a degree.

at least you have a goal in life. unlike him, and his stupid gardening.

nevertheless, he gives you a curt nod and tries to tame the flutter of a muscle in his cheek as he hands you back the ball he’d considered melting with his quirk just moments before. he’s still so angry because of the pot.

it held his favourite flower, goddammit.

“you’re new here, too,” you chime as you take the ball from his hands. “i know you weren’t here the last time i came to visit… i’d remember a man like you if he were living across the street from me.”

he isn’t entirely sure if you actually don’t see it, or you simply turn a blind eye towards the dirt and the branding that he’s now burned into the ball with his fingers, but both choices seem just dandy to bakugou as he watches you grin up at him, now. so cutesy.

“moved in a couple of months ago,” he explains briefly, clearing his throat and wiping his hands against his black gym shorts. he has to wash them later anyway; what’s a little bit of sweat and dirt? “been sort of… startin’ over, hah.”

you could call it that, all right.

you give him a knowing look, but don’t say anything about the article that had covered the first page of nearly every newsletter in the country not a while back.

dynamight retires at the young age of 33 after yet another savage misdemeanor! read more below!

no, instead you say, “well, that’s nice. i certainly hope that you’ve adjusted and that our little neighbourhood has been treating you well, mister dynamight, sir.”

that last word… did you say it like that; so softly, almost purring, the first time, too?

“i suppose i did,” he answers, feeling a heat that he can’t blame on the late afternoon sun start to crawl up his neck. it’s not intense enough to make him blush, per se, but it is enough to tint the tips of his ears a light pink. damn, it sure has been a while if a mere tone has got him acting like this.

your smile grows bigger as you notice the faint change of shade. it makes your face beam. “i know it’s quaint compared to the city, but i’m sure you’ll learn to like it.”

he watches you turn so that you can head back to your house, inside of which your menace of a little brother is surely hiding, and he can’t help but eye you up from head to toe again, well, heel. the back of you is just as stunning as your front is, he’s dragging his eyes all over; that is until you whip your head to the side so that you can look at him over your shoulder.

“oh, and mister dynamight?”

“what?” he calls out. you’ve already reached the sidewalk.

“i really am sorry about your flower pot. i’ll buy you a new one, if you’ll let me,” you say, waving. “just don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

katsuki doesn’t answer. he wants to say a million things all at once, to agree, to deny, whatever. to tell you to call him katsuki, or at least bakugou; that he hasn’t been called dynamight in a while and hasn’t felt like him either for a long while, too. to ask you what your name is, because he’s just realized he’s never got it. to try shooting his shot, or just talk, talk, talk because he’s lonely, he’s been feeling oh, so very lonely ever since moving here.

but all he does instead, is raise his hand and wave.

#i might write more about this bkg and reader #i think they’re both so sweet!!#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo x reader #biscuit drabbles

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writerswall26 · 9 months ago

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My Sweet Cairo (Part 8)

Synopsis: The Ravens' Soccer team Captain fell in love for Cairo Sweet

Warning: Slight cursing, Emotions, Mention of death and SH.

Words: 2.4k

Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: I was so pumped while writing this. I enjoyed this part so much. We get to know what really happened and flesh out R's father's mind. We also saw Cairo being responsible and using the advices she received to get some help! Happy Reading!

Y/N tried to avoid being alone the entire day, not wanting to give Cairo the opportunity to have even a minute to talk to her. What Cairo told her a few nights ago is still stuck in her head. She doesn't know if she should be afraid or what.

"Hey, Y/—"

"Will you walk me home?" Cairo cut Jasmine off as soon as Y/N got out of her last class of the day. She was not expecting Cairo to wait for her!

Y/N looked shocked and confused. She gave Jasmine a look. But her friend just stood by and watched the scene unfold. Traitor!

"Y/N, walk me home, please?" Cairo said, sweetly this time, with a smile on her face.

"Uhm, I'm sorry but I have—"

"Uh no, we're not going. I gotta study for a pop quiz tomorrow. Winnie's coming to help me, I'm sorry dude." Jasmine cut the taller girl off.

Y/N glared at her while Cairo smiled widely. "So?" Cairo asked cutely, for fuck's sake!

"Uhm, sure." Y/N said hesitantly.

"Great!" Cairo said happily before she held the taller girl's hand and pulled her.

Y/N didn't say a single word as she turned to Jasmine and gave her a look, mouthing "I'm killing you tomorrow, you traitor!"

On the way home, the two of them did not say a word. They went with Y/N's route instead of Cairo's since Y/N has her bike with her.

"I've talked to Mr. Miller." Cairo started, causing Y/N to stop for a moment.

"Why?" She asked before she followed Cairo again.

"I went to apologise." Cairo started, causing Y/N to furrow her brows. "I'm seeing a therapist now," Cairo said, glancing at Y/N who looked really confused, and cute. "Your mom referred me to a work colleague of hers. Told me it might help with the issues I had."

Y/N is confused, like really confused. "Mum did that? Why?"

Cairo shrugged. "We were together for a few hours before you came when we had dinner. She confronted me about what I did. Told me the same thing you said, how messed up it was. Then she told me about a friend of hers, a therapist, she told me I should check it out, see if it helps. That's why I went to Mr. Miller. I want to sort things out before graduation."

"What did Mr. Miller say?"

"We sat down, talked about what went wrong, what happened. He apologized to me too. He accepted the fact that he was in the wrong too, that he wasn't careful and clear, that he stepped the boundaries and led me on."

Well that's... incredibly surprising. Y/N never thought she'd be hearing a redemption arc between two messed up individuals. Although, she's happy to hear that Mr. Miller's finally seen what he did wrong. That's a huge point. And she's happy that Cairo's seeking out help.

"So, how long would you be going to therapy?" Y/N asked, glancing at Cairo who pursed her lips.

"I don't know. As long as I need, I guess. It's not really that bad." Cairo said, smiling at the thought that Y/N is finally talking to her with anger and resentment in her voice.

"How about when you go to college? You wouldn't know anyone around there."

"My therapist knows a friend where I'm going to go. She said she'd refer me to him and continue therapy there."

Y/N nodded. "That's a good thing."

Cairo looked up at her, a smile on her face, her dimples showing. "How long have you gone to therapy?"

Y/N pursed her lips. "A year and a half, I guess? My therapist told me she was proud of my progress so she adviced that I spend my time being a normal kid. She told me I should come to her whenever I need and so far, it's all good."

Cairo nodded. "That's good. I'm proud of you."

Y/N chuckled, lowering her head. "Alright, mum." She said, which made Cairo laugh as well.

They continued walking silently, comfortable silence this time until they reached Cairo's place.

"Here's you." Y/N said, stopping in front of Cairo's house.

The brunette turned to her and gave her a smile. "Thank you for walking me home."

Y/N nodded. "It's no biggie."

Cairo leaned up and gave her a kiss on the cheek before she walked inside the house, throwing a glance at the tall girl who waved at her.

When Y/N was sure Cairo's finally inside, she rode her bike and went home where she waited for her mum to come home to ask questions.

That night, when Y/M/N came home, she was immediately cornered by Y/N at dinner.

"I was wondering," Y/N started. "What were you talking about with Cairo before I got home that night?"

Y/M/N gave her a smile. "You, Mr. Miller, dad." The older woman answered shortly.

Y/N furrowed her brows. "You talked to her about dad?"

Y/M/N nodded. "Yes, I wanted her to know how terrible of a person she was for doing what she did. But then there's Mr. Miller."

"Who's not entirely at fault."

"But he was indeed the adult in the situation."

"You're defending Cairo, mum."

Y/M/N looked at her daughter, seeing the problem once and for all. "I'm not defending Cairo, what she did was wrong, yes. But don't you think what Mr. Miller did was far worse than that?"

Y/N stayed quiet, thinking.

"Honey, Mr. Miller's case is different from your dad's case. You have to see that." Y/M/N explained, Y/N is being blinded by what happened to her dad.

"I know. I know it's different."

"And?" Y/M/N tried to probe further.

"I'm not defending Mr. Miller either, mum. If that's what you think. Maybe I'm over compensating. Maybe I thought by helping Mr. Miller, I gave justice to what happened to dad. But what if I'm wrong, mum?"

"Are you? Look at it from an outside perspective, honey. Look at it both ways."

Y/N furrowed her brows. She doesn't know where to go from here. It's weird talking about this with her mum but at the same time, the answers are clearer. Her mind wasn't being blocked by her emotions, her father's connection to the case. If there's anyone to blame, it's the both of them, Cairo and Mr. Miller. There's no one to defend, no one to side with.

"There's always a connection, honey." Her mum brought her back to her senses. "But there's a huge difference and that's what I want you to see. Yes, Cairo was in the wrong for seducing Mr. Miller. But is it entirely her fault? Is it really? Why would she act that way if Mr. Miller didn't do anything wrong?"

"Was I wrong for helping Mr. Miller?" Y/N finally asked, looking at her mum with worried eyes.

Y/M/N gave her a smile as she held her hand, squeezing it to assure her. "You did what you thought was right at the time. You saved both of them by doing so. Don't beat yourself up for it."

Y/N stayed up that night thinking of what her mum had told her. She wasn't really thinking when she lent a hand to Mr. Miller. She knew it was wrong, she heard it from Mr. Miller himself. And yet, she still sided with him for what? For her father? No, she thought. It's for personal gain. She had the power to turn the story around, and she did. So what does that say about her?

She's no different from those students she despises the most. Maybe even worse. Her thoughts are so incriminating, so powerful that she did not blink sleep that night.

So the next day when she got to class, she was noticeably tired. She looked like a walking zombie and anyone who sees her thought so too. Her friends and Cairo saw that too and they were worried.

"What happened to you?" Winnie asked over lunch when Y/N didn't even touch her food, she's usually a foodie.

Y/N gave her a tired look and shook her head. "I'm just tired."

"We can see that, dude. You have dark circles around your eyes." Jasmine said, as worried.

Y/N sighed. "Did you guys think I made the wrong decision? When I stood up for Mr. Miller?"

Winnie and Jasmine turned to one another, giving each other looks.

"I mean, what Cairo did was fucked up. She literally wrote a porn story between her and Mr. Miller." Jasmine said, as a matter of fact.

"However, I don't think Cairo's entirely at fault. I mean, she messed up but not entirely her fault." Winnie said, on the other hand.

Y/N groaned. "Maybe I should've just shut my mouth and let them do whatever to Mr. Miller."

"Hey, woah, hold up." Jasmine started, getting the attention of her friend. "You did what you thought was best, okay? Both of them fucked up, that's a fact. The other one stepped on the fine line, and the other one was led on. There's no winning in this situation."

"Whatever you did, you did it for them both. Struck two birds with one stone, as they say." Winnie said, holding Y/N's hand and squeezing it gently.

Y/N gave them a small smile and nodded. "Maybe I shouldn't really beat myself up with this one."

"Damn right, you shouldn't." Jasmine said, giving her an assuring smile.

After their class, she was already outside Cairo's last class, waiting for the girl to come out. When Cairo saw her, an immediate smile drew her face.

"What are you doing here? You should've gone home and got some sleep. Look at you." Cairo said, holding a gentle hand to Y/N's cheek to look at her face.

"Can I walk you home?" Y/N asked with a sheepish smile.

Cairo was shocked to say the least. She did not expect that. She was expecting Y/N to come around but not this fast. Still, she was happy about it.

"Sure." Cairo smiled, holding out a hand to Y/N to shake her head.

"That's reaching."

"Oh." Cairo said, a bit disappointed but she smiled it away.

"Come on."

The duo walked out of school together. They're all smiles and shit but still, Y/N cannot take her mind off her conversation with her mum. She might as well talk to Cairo now.

So when they got to Cairo's place, the brunette did not expect that Y/N would park her car on the fence and followed her to her front porch. The taller girl sat on the step and patted the space beside her.

"What's going on?" Cairo asked, sitting beside Y/N who gave her a smile.

The taller girl stayed quiet for a moment, contemplating. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened."

Cairo nodded. "What do you want to talk about?" She asked, wanting Y/N to start the conversation.

"I don't know. I just want to have clarity. I had a talk with my mum last night. It was a hard pill to swallow but, I guess it was needed."

""What happened to him? Your dad?" Cairo asked, glancing at Y/N who was looking at the trees ahead.

"My mum didn't tell you?" She asked, confused. She thought they spoke about her dad.

"Not all of it."

Y/N glanced at Cairo, contemplating if she should tell her about it or not. A part of her doesn't want to, because talking about it means relieving it and she hates that. She hates that she's going back to that time. But a huge part of her wants to let it all out, just throw it out there and forget about it all.

She chose the latter.

Y/N took a deep breath.

"I don't know when it started. My dad was really passionate about teaching. He was really good at what he did. He's a great father, you know? He was always present and attentive to my needs." Y/N started, smiling at the memory of her father in every soccer game, every recital, every academic competitions, everything. He was always there, always smiling and looking proud.

"One semester during sophomore year, he came home all happy and giddy, it wasn't unusual really. He was always happy and giddy. But this one's just different. He told us he had met this student in class, he thought she was brilliant." Y/N stopped for a moment, trying to calm herself down before she started crying and shouting.

Cairo noticed how hard it is for Y/N to continue so she held the taller girl's hand in her own and squeezed it. "You don't have to continue. I believe I got the gist of it."

Y/N shook her head and turned to Cairo with a pained smile. "I want to continue."

Cairo looked worried, but she nodded nonetheless. "Okay. But you can stop anytime." She gave out an assuring smile.

Y/N nodded, squeezing Cairo's hand gently. "He told mum and I all about this girl. We were amazed by her. So we told dad to bring her home one time so we could talk. He did. We had a barbeque one saturday, family's all there and she was there. I thought she was brilliant, she was so fascinating with all the things she knew. Little did we know, she would cause the biggest heart break to ever happen to us."

Y/N shook her head. "During the middle of the semester, my father started to act weird. He started getting drunk, not sleeping, he started being absent. One day he came home and told us he was let go of his job. My mum and I asked why, he never answered. The days after that, he became difficult. He would pick a fight with me and mum. He would get angry. He would get drunk, pass out on the couch. I slowly watched my father become a shell of what he used to be. He just stopped functioning."

Cairo could not help it anymore. She stood up and went in front of Y/N, hugging the girl in her arms tightly as she gently brushed Y/N's hair with her fingers, wanting the taller girl to know that she's there, that it's okay. Y/N leaned in Cairo's arms, sighing heavily.

"Then my mum knew about what happened. Turns out the girl orchestrated a plan for my dad to get fired. She invited my dad for coffee one time, asked a friend to take a couple of pictures that looked intimate. The school board didn't like it. Had an entire meeting about it. My dad tried to fight with all his might. Turns out when he started acting weird, that's when he was battling with those accusations. It took only 3 photos and one girl for my dad to lose everything. One day after I won a game, I showed my medal to my dad but he didn't say anything. Next thing I know, I was running to their room. Then I saw him, blood everywhere, his body unmoving. He was gone, Cairo."

This is the most Cairo has seen Y/N vulnerable. Now she understood perfectly why Y/N wanted to help Mr. Miller. What happened to her dad was unjust. So when told the school board that Cairo's accusations were baseless, this is what she meant. What happened to Y/N's father were baseless accusations.

So, she just stood there, holding Y/N in her arms, letting her let out all the frustrations and emotions she's bottled up the entire time.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem reader #cairo sweet x reader #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x reader #cairo sweet #tara carpenter #wednesday addams #miller's girl

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arliedraws · 29 days ago

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How would you characterise Sirius as a teen vs an adult? And what personality traits does he still keep vs not?

Also bonus: how would you characterise Remus?

Hey gooooood question!

Ah hmmm. Well. We don’t get a ton of teenaged Sirius in the books—one pivotal scene, really, and then the rest is conjecture. So let’s proceed with your phrasing—how I characterize him as each. I put this under the cut because it got long.

Sirius as a teenager, in my opinion, is an arrogant and charming. There are students in my classes where you can see that they see you, the teacher, and they notice everything that’s happening around them. Sirius would have been that student who can see behind the curtain. But he’s not going to make life easier for you—he’s just noticing and you feel maybe too exposed.

Anyway, I think he’s terribly loyal to his friends, but he shows his affection by ribbing you. He also shows his mild frustration by ribbing you—except it feels much less playful, more cutting, but he can hide behind the fact that this is how he always acts towards people. But that’s if he feels embarrassed or hurt. If he has a real problem with you, he’ll tell you. He’s also a bit quiet, speaks only when he’s got something to say—he’s careful with what he says. I think Sirius is a person who wants to be control, and as a teenager, he gets angry when he can’t map/measure/predict what someone is going to do. And if you embarrass or humiliate him, you’re dead. This is where you get either the incredibly cold Sirius, or the explosive Sirius.

Contrast this with his adult self—I think Azkaban effectively humbled him. Trampled him. Traumatized him. He learned that although he’s clever, his arrogance and cleverness killed people. We see a spark of his old self when he’s dueling Bellatrix, but most of the time, we only have glimpses of who he was before Azkaban. In PoA, Sirius is so driven, so focused, but he also has moments of sentimentality. By the end of the book, he’s really tried for almost a year to capture Peter, so the Shack scene doesn’t catch him at his best (though I love unhinged Sirius), but sprinkled throughout the book are these moments where we later learn that Sirius really wanted to be there for Harry. Then we have the truly devoted godfather in GoF and we see that he is incredibly patient. He lets Harry talk and talk and talk even though he’s on his knees (hem) in the Floo call (which we learn later is incredibly uncomfortable). This is SUCH a wild shift from the Sirius in OotP who is beyond depressed. Sirius hardly listens to Harry at all in OotP—no wonder Harry felt like he was alone. Sirius, who needs control, who’s only had to answer to himself for the last two years, is suddenly told what to do. Where to go. To sit down and be quiet. In the same place where he was controlled and told to sit down and be quiet when he was a boy. He has no therapist, no coping mechanisms. It’s really no wonder he escapes these feelings by drinking.

One thing I don’t love is when people say that Sirius did not get to mature in Azkaban or that he stagnated, that he was basically a 22-year-old when he escaped. I don’t think so. Just because Sirius is left with only the worst thoughts and memories, he is still left with himself. He probably spent some of those dozen years reflecting—and I’ll tell you what, he probably wasn’t proud of himself. I doubt the 22-year-old Sirius would have cared about humiliating Snape when he was fifteen, but the 36-year-old Sirius seems to have some embarrassment. Also, his prefrontal cortex has been developing too—maybe not as efficiently as it would be in the outside world, but he is aging. His emotional regulation is probably out of whack, yet I think we see in the way he interacts with Harry that he is NOT a 22-year-old. I’ve met 22-year-olds. That’s not how they behave.

Trauma changes you. It just does. I faced some early childhood trauma that shaped how I interact with the world. I can often tell when a young person (25 or under) has lost a parent or a sibling before they tell me. There’s a sort of ill-gotten wisdom of losing someone that close to you. I don’t know how to describe it, but they’ll often carry themselves like an adult. I see this happening to Sirius—he was a mature teenager who grew up quickly in war time, and then experienced a lot of trauma in about three days.

Anyway, that’s just my two cents. Take it with a grain of salt!

(I’ll do Remus another time!)

#i’m gonna look at this tomorrow and be like #actually i think none of this anymore #sirius black #hp meta

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johnbrand · 4 months ago

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First Session

As a therapist, Jay understood that trust was key, that was why he was currently lounging back into the fainting couch as his client entered the room. Fairly short, pudgy, and deemed “hardly enticing” by an ex-boyfriend, Jay knew he did not come off as intimidating. But this trick of letting his client play the therapist-role during their first session had yet to fail him. So as he watched the tall, young, muscular male approach, Jay’s confidence did not once sway.

“Doctor?” the client’s voice held arrogance and lacked maturity.

“Michael,” Jay extended a hand, noting a smirk emerging from Michael’s face as his meaty mitt enveloped the therapist’s. While the jock was dressed in the local university’s gear, Jay was currently displaying one of his finest suits. “Jay will do just fine.”

“Alright, Jay,” Michael replied, testing it out. “Where would you like me to sit?”

I ushered him to the chair: “For our first session, I like to have clients take on my role. Learn more about me, get to know my background. Trust is a two-way street after all.”

A cocky weight befell the jock’s tone. “So I can ask about anything?”

Jay nodded. Michael took a moment before continuing, “Well I can see why you went into this line of work. The kinds of people you cure must trust an attractive guy like you to fix them.”

Jay was not sure how to respond. For a second he wondered if Michael was trying to deploy some sort of superiority tactic. But Jay was being too hard on himself. He had fostered his share of boyfriends over the years. His sharp, angular face was typically enough to at least get his clients' attention. Maybe Jay’s pretty privilege did help him with his work.

“You’ll have to share your workout plan with me too. You look better than half the guys on the team,” Michael added.

Jay felt a little uncomfortable. Had he ever visited a gym before? Sure his body looked great. The chiseled abs and wide shoulders gave his torso a very athletic shape. But it felt strange to admit that Jay worked out that much, even if he could recall countless memories going to the gym and exercising. Jay took a moment to refocus back onto his client. If Michael really wanted to know his routine for a great body, he would be happy to oblige.

“I guess guys our size have to be this big, right? We were practically born for the brawn.” Jay smiled politely at Michael, his eyeline adjusting momentarily. He was probably right though, being 6’3 meant either being skinny as a rail or built like a bull, and Jay preferred the latter. “It’s great that you dress as casually as you are too, it really reflects that personality.”

“To be honest, formal options for guys our size are just way too expensive. Even for me.” Jay chuckled, flashing his signature white teeth framed by a perfect beard. It is also a great way to flex my physique, Jay thought inwardly. His short-sleeved button-down left nothing to the imagination, with meaty arms stretching the seams and the tops of his hairy pecs leading the viewer down towards his ample crotch. Venturing further, one could trace Jay's thick, long legs all the way down to his sizable bare feet. “If I wouldn’t have known any better, Michael, I would have thought that was a compliment.”

“Bet you get those a lot from your clients,” Michael grinned. “The fags probably love spending time alone with a real man.”

Jay paused, his interest suddenly alerted. “What do you mean by that?”

Michael’s response reeked of innocence. “Oh, sorry I thought you were a therapist-”

“I am.” Jay's interruption was firm.

“-a conversion therapist,” Michael finished with a snarl. “Isn’t it your job to bring those sissies back to manhood. Classic, old-fashioned masculinity? I'd think you'd be pretty proud of it too.”

Jay remained still for a moment, frozen. Then, as if the answer had magically appeared, he replied: “Yes, you are correct, and I have yet to have anything but success. Although judging by this session, it appears you will not be added to that list.”

Michael chuckled, “So those studies really did allow you to sniff out a proper alpha. I’m really here just to scout you out, get your vibe before sending a classmate of mine your way. He needs to be ‘straightened out,’ if you catch my drift.”

“I’d be happy to,” Jay’s brilliant smile appeared once more, now broadcasting a more sinister, malicious bite.

Michael rose, “Good, I’ll be in contact with you shortly.”

“Thank you for your time, Michael.” The therapist did not get up from his position, instead cockily adjusting himself into a more enticing, predatory pose. “On your way out, would you mind sending the next client in?”

“I’d be more than happy too.”

#gay to straight #male tf #male transformation #jock tf #Michael

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bluberryfields · 1 year ago

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"David is very easy to fall in love with." - Michael Sheen

Hi. How are you? Good, I hope. Okay, so can we talk about just how fucking beautiful David Tennant is? And by “we” I mean “I” and by “talk” I mean “babble incoherently into the void”? Great! I’ll attempt to impose a bit of organization on this just to satisfy my pathological need to inflict structure on words (thanks college/job/brain), but I can’t promise much. Also, there will be A LOT of pictures and gifs. (you’re welcome?)

And this isn’t just because I am deep in the bottomless well of Good Omens fandom and that Crowley is basically the most breathtaking creature that has ever existed. Well, not just because of that.

*cue Aziraphale's "good lord" from 1793*

ANYWAY, like a lot of people, I became a fan of (i.e., fell deeply and irrevocably in love with) DT during his run as the 10th Doctor. He was young and bright and full of just about everything – joy, sorrow, wit – making him incredibly watchable. His look was also so charming: big bouncy rooster comb of hair, absurdly cheeky smile, expressive-as-fuck eyes and eyebrows, and a tall, lanky form that seemed to be made of rubber and the kind of granulated sugar that could only be found in candy from the 90s that are now banned in all first- and second-world countries.

So yeah, I was super into him and his Doctor’s adventures. And I continued to watch him in other projects and still swoon (looking at you, slutty Hamlet)

even at characters where that was not the desired reaction (fuck you, Kilgrave, you delicious monster).

I would also always become a bit (a lot) weak in the knees at his voice regardless of which accent he took on, though always preferring him doing any Scottish brogue because of fucking course.

youtube

Roll that tongue, you sexy beast.

But what I want to get into today is just how incredible he looks in the year of 2023.

He’s 52 years old and I am somehow even more attracted to him. Maybe it’s because I am myself older, and my tastes have matured alongside? I certainly do enjoy gray hair way more than I did 10 years ago.

He’s aged incredibly well, probably a combination of good genes and good health, and he’s clearly not clinging to the Hollywood idea of “youth”.

(insert obligatory grumble about the double standards of men being praised for aging and women being demonized…the potentially problematic nature of the term “aging well” in general…acknowledge this with my enlightened brain but ignore this with my slutty heart…fuck the patriarchy, etc. etc.)

He’s still tall and skinny, even gangly at times, all long arms and legs that can move in impossible directions with unfathomable grace.

His face is leaner, that incredible bone structure creating sharper edges that draw the eye. Speaking of the face, he’s got these creases on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes and mouth that are evidence of time spent well: smiling, laughing, living. Makes you want to trace your fingertips along each one.

Oh god that smile? Good lord. It’s weapons grade charm that can also be quite intimidating. Sweet, humble, silly, scary…full spectrum of options here! His shark smile is the definition of “irresistible” in my Dictionary of Delicious Dudes.

I am both proud of and grossed out by my own word choice.

Continuing with that face...the hawkish nose, the dimples you want to drown in, the big eyes, those motherfucking eyebrows...

I could seriously write a whole essay about those eyebrows, but I already give my therapist enough to worry about.

Oh those eyes. “Piercing” is a term usually reserved for blue eyes, but I would argue it applies to DT’s bottomless chocolate pools in that they slice through my heart every damn time.

Honorable mention does go to those Crowley snake eyes because they could have been distracting and diminishing to his overall look, but they absolutely are not.

Such a pretty shade of yellow.

Random tangent to swoon about his hands. For whatever reason, I like checking out a man’s hands, and DT’s got a set that drives me wild. I can’t even really explain why, but I just really like the way he articulates with them. Crowley is a perfect example, what with the miracle snaps, caressing globes, and holding whisky glasses. Yum.

Delicious demon digits

Fresh tangent: How does this fucker look good clean shaven, with stubble, and a goddamn beard? How is that allowed?

He's got a face that makes me wanna take up sculpting

Further, how is his fucking neck so hot? Like, seriously, show me the math. I can’t stop staring at it. And when it’s cloaked in a turtleneck? Please, sir, may I have some more?

Fuuuuuuuck

With no segue whatsoever, I am absolutely obsessed with his hair, across all contexts. Big, bold, blood-red Crowley coifs (especially in Season 2)? Check.

Proper gentleman side part? Check.

Side shave with cartoonishy springy 14th Doctor shock? Check.

Lockdown locks with and without headband? Check!

It’s a goddamn buffet of delicious options.

Oh damn speaking of that 14th Doctor look? Good fucking Christ on a buttery Ritz cracker. The whole DT collection is on display: the hair, the eyes, the bone structure, the smile, the clothes, and even the glasses!

To quote Pam on Archer, “I swear to god, you could drown a toddler in my panties right now! I mean, not that you would.”

Now that you (I) mention the clothes, I never cease to marvel at how he can wear pretty much anything and look amazing. Stripes, patterns, wild colors, etc. He just always looks…not exactly comfortable, but sort of at ease like the clothes were created with him in mind. And this goes across the spectrum of Casual to Costume to Promotional (e.g., interviews and premieres).

They are almost illegally cute together

We all know by now how ridiculously tight those Crowley pants are and how it influenced his signature serpentine swagger (thank you, Costume department, you’re the real heroes). That said, he and those slinky hips still looks so incredibly natural in them like they came from his actual closet.

Stupid sexy snek

And he pulls off the look of more ridiculous stuff like full Shakespearean costumes or that sad gray-hoodie-black-shorts-and-Wellington-boots combo from the first season of Staged. He somehow gives off the air of “whatever, they’re just clothes, man” while also looking like a damn model.

Georgia is a very lucky woman

Final thoughts: I know DT dislikes talking about how people think he’s so attractive because I’m sure it feels a bit icky if you just want to live your life and do your job. But my guy also clearly understands that he’s not some ghoul who has succeeded on incredible personality and acting chops alone. So, that said, maybe he'll forgive me for posting such a long, rambling, ode to him?

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that-starry-freak · 3 months ago

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Yknow what? I have to rant about this this has been eating me up for forever. Fuck confessions I'm going to do this here.

I fucking hate old moon

Do I love his sass? Yes. Do I love how Reed plays him most of the time? Yes. Do I love how he interacts with other characters? Yes!

Do I like him as a "person" and for what hes done? Absolutley not. He abused Sun, and when he found out the daycare exploded his first reaction was to be upset because THE STICK HE WOULD ROUTINLY HIT SUN WITH was fucking destroyed. I'm sorry bitch what??? That's disgusting Moon I wish you burned in hell <3

I also absolutely hate that no one saves Nexus

Do I think it was Sun's fault? Absolutely not, he has had way too much shit to deal with. Do I think its Earth's fault? While I think Nexus was absolutely right for calling her out for not being a therapist, she has every right to be upset for him saying he'd kill her. Do I think its the families fault in general? No, Nexus pushed them away and hurt them, they did try.

You know who I do blame? Who should understand Nexus better than anyone? Who even admits partial responsibility for it, and pretty much denies any sort of redemption for Nexus?

Mother fucking Old Moon.

Old moon committed arson. He abused Sun routinely (forcing him to go to dangerous dimensions. Hitting him. Calling him stupid. Having a clear power difference between the two and abusing it). He put his killcode in Sun and is literally the reason Eclipse exists and terrified their family.

But no, Nexus is the one in the wrong. He's the one that will have to do soemthing huge and grovel to be redeemed. Because he threatened the family after having hallucination and literally going insane and mourning his best friend, and feeling like he wasn't good enough and spiraling cause he couldn't bring Solar back, and then joined Dark Sun whos known to be exteemly smart and manipulative. Not Old Moon, who did so much worse. No, he gets to rejoin the family after apologizing and promising to do better (and yes, he is doing better) sure, Sun doesn't forgive him (and im proud of him for admitting that <3 that's very strong of him), but still.

Plus, Nexus is literally the youngest family member. He's a lot younger than Earth and Sun and Moon and Lunar. He isn't Sun's twin, and he isn't Earth's older brother. He is the youngest. And that should be addressed, because that means he is much more immature. He hasn't had all the time to grow up like the rest of them have. Moon has had years to grow as a person. Nexus has had a year.

Anyway, tldr. I dont blame the family for what happened to Nexus, I blame Old Moon

Also sorry for bad spelling or grammar or autocorrect or whatever, I'm not rereading this

ALSO THIS IS NOT FOR DEBATE. I AM RANTING ABOUT MY OPINION, IF YOU DO NOT AGREE, PLEASE JUST SCROLL PAST I DONT HAVE THE ENERGY TO ARGUE. YOU ARE ENTITLED TO YOUR OWN OPINION AND SO AM I ♡♡

#vent? ish?#astro rants #sams #Old moon #Old moon hate #Nexus

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your-nanas-house · 2 months ago

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NANA ME NEED AUSTIN BUTLER HMMMMM🦫🦫🦫🦫

*feeding you bit of Austin Butler*

"Mr. Coleman suggested that...."

(Credits to the owners)

◇ Pairing: Stepdad!Austin Butler X stepdaughter!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, "bond" therapy (invented by me, dunno if it exists), food play, hobbies, kind of dark?, fluff, pervy, stepdad x stepdaughter dynamic, dry humping.

◇ Summary: Austin indulges in another of Mr. Coleman's suggestions.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. For other fics like this.

"Ooohhh... stepdaddy" Y/n sing-sang softly as she managed to open the door of their house with her feet, her other one balanced her body as she carried two big paper bags.

The young woman had just returned from a quick grocery shopping she did as soon as she woke up and Austin was still asleep.

It was around 10:00 AM. The windows were already open, the sun light shining in, illuminating the rooms and warming them up a bit.

The singing of a bird could be heard while Austin's feet echoed down their floor, his footsteps calm and probably still a bit tired but eager to reach his stepdaughter. "Where did you go, silly goose?" He rasped out as soon as he appeared, his soft blonde hair still tousled and messy from the sleep and his body still protected by the soft material of his pj's.

"I was doing grocery shopping like a big girl, for me and my baba... since we will try out another suggestion of Mr. Coleman" the younger woman replied with a proud smile as she put carefully down the bags and rushed to her usual seat to finally get in her 'home clothes'.

The actor smiled as he began to help out put away the groceries; before opening a bag and pulling out some fruits like apples and grapes. Just to rub one of the vine fruit against the fabric of his shirt and then pop it in his mouth to taste its sweetness.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Y’know, it means a lot to me how helpful you always are.” He murmured out while still chewing, his big hand moving to ruffle his stepdaughter's hair just the way she claimed to "hate"

"No problem at all..." she hummed out, shooing his hand away with a little huff and an amused smile.

They were going to bake together that day, their therapist had suggested them to try and do some hobbies or activity together so to make their bond stronger. The recipe they had choose were simple chocolate and vanilla cupcakes decorated with sugary icing or whipped cream and fresh fruits.

"Managed to find everything that was on the list?" Austin asked as he leaned on the counter next to Y/n, watching her move around the kitchen to gather all the ingredients they needed. A small smile appeared on his face at how independent she was and at how still childish she could be when she wanted.

"Yup! Luckily... I didn't feel like going to look for them elsewhere" the young woman declared while checking if everything was there before starting anything.

She was wearing a pink-ish baggy shirt with his face on it and some silly sentence on the front, her legs were bare, there was just her lacy pink panties decorated with small strawberries that was bit protected by the fabric of the shirt and her feet were comfortably covered by her soft, furry slippers.

Austin, on the other hand, was wearing his pajama pants and a white t-shirt that did justice to his fit physique; he was barefoot yet still taller than her.

"Shall we begin, baby?" His raspy voice asked as he rested his chin on her shoulder while hugging her hips from behind in a soft cuddle. His light eyes scanning her action as she hummed out a small 'yes' before reading with him the steps, which would have hopefully led to some delicious cupcakes.

The first tasks went smoothly, one started to cut the fruits while the other weighed the ingredients, lots of playful and teasing moments were shared... till they reached the icing.

Austin grabbed a spoon and tasted the frosting that was in the bowl, the sweet flavour invading his mouth as a mischievous smirk appeared on his handsome face. He had a little bit of the icing on his finger, and while he was still behind Y/n, he quickly tapped her on the nose before laughing at his action, praising the cream as a way to hopefully get away with it

“It’s good.” His words echoed in her head as she registered what he had done.

It surely needed revenge, and he too could sense it since her hand tightened the grip on the spoon she was holding, and her circular motions came to a stop. She just had to turn slightly around to make the older man take a step back with an uncontrollable chuckle that didn't stop when she smeared some icing on his face.

In fact his eyes simply widened slightly when he felt the cold icing on his cheekbone, his acting skills kicking in as he pretended to be surprised, offended while still having a playful glimpse in his eyes that didn't go away as he reached up to feel the icing on his skin and scoop it as best he could to taste some again

"Did you just do what I think you just did?” Austin murmured out with the tone of someone that was about to attack again, successfully making her move slightly in fear to be hit again with the sweet dessert

"Yes, I did" the younger woman playfully replied, her eyes staring intently at him ready to react at any movements or action that would end up with her getting dirtier and stickier.

"Yeah?" The man challenged with a grin, his hands reaching quickly for the back of her head so to press their cheeks together and smear the frosting on her face even more, his tongue dared out to lick her skin clean while still fighting with the spoons.

"Eewww, Baba—" Y/n whined out, her hand grabbing into his shirt as she wiggled to try and escape the affectionate attack. Her eyes closed and her back arching on the counter, nearly knocking over the bowl while she kept fighting playfully back.

The frosting going anywhere.

The older actor laughed again as he held onto her hips, keeping her pinned against the cold surface of the counter while he continued to lick up the rest of the icing, moving his tongue up and down her neck. Her hips kept moving, wiggling and shaking as she chuckled while being pressed down, little spasm caused them to hit Austin's hard enough to cause a short groan to leave his throat. The unexpected action taking him by surprise and making his grip on her tighten. His body now pressed up against hers as he continued to kiss around with his sweet, sticky mouth.

His bulge pressed between her legs, grinding carefully enjoying the way they moved together. He moved his mouth up to her ear, his breath hot on her skin as he panted and groaned.

"Darling—" Austin cursed, freeing his cock from his pj's pants to position it right on her thong, rubbing carefully his red tip across of it making sure to wet the fabric with his pre-cum before starting to dry hump her. His big hands grabbed her thighs, moving her legs up to his shoulder, thrusting his hips in smooths circles as the silence was slowly fading, now replaced by heavy breaths.

The room was filled with noises, groans and humming; wet noises came from her dripping pussy as his slender fingers started to move with experience the fabric of her panties, making it rub exactly against her needy clint.

No further words were shared except for a few curses or exclamations coming from both of them.

His cock kept rubbing against the drenched fabric, resting against her folds as his balls made contact with her barely covered ass.

His smooth movements, the lustful music that their body played were accompanied by the ticking of the oven timer, making their desire for a peak imminent and almost obligatory. Each tic Austin's hips would thrust forward, and each tac they would shift backwards, leading to a quick and steady rhythm that was making both body shake and twitch with anticipation.

Tic, tac, tic, tac.

His pre-cum wet further the fabric and her skin as his mouth took care of her flushed neck.

Tic, tac, tic, tac.

Austin was breathing heavier, his stare getting more intense and focused on Y/n's expressions of pleasure.

Tic, tac.... rrring.

The muffin were ready, finished and ready for the decorating just like the young woman's body, which just came down from her climax and accepted the warm, thick seed that rested on it like the frosting that was about to be put messily on each cupcake.

#austin butler fic #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x reader #austin butler smut #austin butler #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fandom #stepdad austin butler

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themindofachronicdaydreamer · 3 months ago

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Peace

angst to fluffy plot: you just want a moment of peace, but someone has other plans for you - causing some hurt feelings & confessions. content: use of she/her pronouns & feminine reader, a lil bit of gojo being gojo yk, ft geto and shoko being yours and gojo's therapists lol, not proofread so sorry for any errorss word count: 7.8k (whoops) satoru gojo x reader note: i never know what kind of classes they would have at JJK other than the obvious ones like improving techniques and close combat stuff, so i am kind of winging it lol! but yeah this is the longest one I have written yet. I know I still have room for improvement but i am proud of this one so please enjoyyyy ilyyyy <333

All you want is a singular moment of peace.

As a Jujutsu High student, moments of peace are hard to come by. You are constantly busy with classes, training, missions, homework, more training - it feels never ending. Any free time you have is taken up by a newly assigned mission or anxiously cramming for the next test. The school takes great care of its students, but there is no avoiding the truth of the matter - being a Jujutsu sorcerer is not just a career or a side hobby, it is an all-consuming lifestyle.

So, when your Advanced History of Jujutsu Sorcery class is cancelled last minute and Shoko was sent on a mission and had to cancel your study date later today, you now have practically the whole night to yourself.

You can’t say you’re complaining about the sudden gap in your itinerary for the day. But what should you do? Read a book? Take a nap? Clean your room? Go for a walk? Sit around and do nothing? With so much expected from you on a constant basis, you forget how nice it is to have absolutely nothing to do, even if it’s only for an hour or so. Nothing being expected from you is rare, so it's nice to be able to breathe. You settle on going back to your dorm, finishing the book you have been reading, tidying up, and catching up on shows you fell behind on.

You take your time walking the path back to your dorm, relishing in the cool autumn air. Leaves tinted rusty vermilion and vivid saffron dance along the cool breeze. Your skin is flushed from the chilly temperature and you really, really wish you decided to wear a coat, Suguru’s words of wisdom from the morning ricocheting in your mind. You figured your sweater you wore under your uniform would keep you warm enough, but you definitely overestimated the thickness of your skin. You make a mental note to never mention this to Geto - he has never been one to shy from announcing he “told you so” about whatever it is he was inevitably right about.

You decide finally on what your plan is: go to your room, listen to music, and relax for a little. You haven’t had alone time in what felt like decades, and you are sure this is the most you’d get in a while.

The handle of your door is cold to the touch, yet oddly comforting. Having already unlocked it, you open it with ease, tranquil at the thought of lying in your bed with a calming night ahead of you.

Tranquil, that is, until you hear your name being called from the absolute last voice you wanted to hear right now.

“What took you so long?” Gojo queries.

Your eyes land upon your classmate, who lies in your bed, arms crossed behind his head atop of your pillow. His long legs are crossed at the ankles as he looks at you from over the rims of his sunglasses. His face has a wide smile and you are almost tempted to take a few of his teeth out, though you know he would best you in any fight. He’s relaxing in the bed you are supposed to be getting into right now, lying on top of your favorite blanket, shoes still on with as he shows not a care in the world. You simply cannot believe the audacity of this man to even breathe near your beloved stuffed animals without your permission.

“Gojo? Why are you in my room?” You immediately question, frozen in the doorway. Your mind is lost in confusion and attempting to figure out what the hell is happening, attempting to solve the puzzle that is the situation in front of you.

You have always had an odd relationship with Satoru Gojo. While you can acknowledge his undeniable attractiveness and impressive skills as a sorcerer, his personality, as you have learned, has not been one you mix well with. You are more of a quiet student compared to his loud, attention-seeking, egotistical personality. You tend to keep to yourself and your select group of friends, while Gojo is an arrogant loud mouth who gets off on making others feel small. Since you have been introduced to the boy, you feel like he has made it his life goal to irritate you for some masochistic reason you cannot seem to fathom.

When you first met him, you were actually excited for four years of being a classmate to a man you considered to be a living form of a Greek god. Though, while his jokes were funny at one point, his persistence to constantly pick on just you is really starting to get in your head. Honestly, you used to be able to sweep his poking and prodding under the rug, tolerating and even sometimes encouraging his jokes. You even thought his humor was cute at one point, but that was before you realized you were just another victim to being blinded by his attractiveness, wanting to see the best of him because of a stupid, meaningless little high school crush that almost every girl who sees him has.

You know you're not special. Gojo picks on everyone - even his best friends. But something about the way he torments you is different from how he banters with others. If it weren't for his limitless and your impressive sense of self-control, you most definitely would have scratched all six of his eyes out by now.

Maybe you are a bit extra sensitive about the little things he says and does because maybe what some cute boy you go to school with says means more to you than he will ever know. Maybe you take everything he says personally because you too think you can never be good enough for The Strongest Sorcerer, nor will you ever be entirely adequate for The Satoru Gojo. Maybe his teasing makes you feel inferior and small because he is destined for such magnificent things, yet you are a measly, barely even above average sorcerer. Maybe you crave a way to make the thought that someone as insignificant as you could never make someone like him turn his head in your direction hurt less, so you choose to internalize his insults instead of wishing he means it when he calls you cute. Maybe this is how you choose to cope with your fear of rejection. If you never do anything about the butterflies in your stomach when Gojo is around, you will never have to go through being rejected - and, honestly, so what if making him the villain in your story at least makes the idea of being around him hurt a little less? You are trying to protect yourself from being hurt. There is nothing wrong with self-preservation.

Gojo continues to smugly peer at you over his sunglasses, and the way his lashes partially cover his cerulean eyes makes you want to rip his stupid designer lenses off and pluck every eyelash he has one by one. In one quick movement, he lifts from your bed and struts toward you, causing your body to tense while he maintains his conceited smile. Suddenly, you want to be anywhere but your room.

"I was bored," Gojo shrugs off your question as if it were obvious, hands in the pocket of his sweatpants. He uses one to sweep through his hair, flexing his biceps in the act in a way you can't tell whether or not was intentional.

You close your eyes, collecting yourself, then quiz, ""What? How did you even get in here?"

"Ughhh, you ask way too many questions," Gojo moans, then mockingly sticks his tongue out at you. "I'm no Grade Three sorcerer. I don't need doors to get into places."

"Gojo, this is my room. You can't just do whatever you want. There's a thing called boundaries and asking for permission," you scold the intruder, the door to your room still open with you standing in its entryway.

"I thought we were friends?" Gojo visibly pouted as he whined. "And I wanna hang out with my friend, so I'm doing that!"

You're unsure as to why you are so angry because of that comment - You and Gojo... friends? HA! Funny joke! The only one Gojo constantly embarrasses, mocks, insults, and is just plain mean to is you. Not Suguru, his best friend. Not Shoko, another one of his friends. Not even Utahime, who hates his guts with every cell in her body, is teased to the extent you are. Just you. Yeah, he teases everyone, but he only seems to go overboard with you.

It doesn't help (even though you would never, ever in your right mind tell Gojo this because that would just give him ammunition to tease you more and you are too prideful to admit it) that he looks so damn good in those sweatpants and that shirt fits his biceps perfectly and his smile is so dreamy and he is SO attractive and I would worship those abs and-

You laugh at the absurdity of your thought(s) that the neurons in your brain are currently tasked with shredding, dispersing, and hiding the paper scraps of in the filing rooms of your mind to never again resurface. The idea that at one point, you thought a moment of peace was possible for you sends you even further into a laughing fit. Gojo stares at you, tilts his head, and squints his eyes in silent question of your sanity. You are curled over in laughter, wheezing at how hilarious this situation is to you. It takes about two whole minutes for you to calm down and recollect yourself.

"You finally lose it? Do you need me to call a psychiatrist or something?" Gojo finally breaks the silence, still lost at what is happening, head spinning as he tries to deduce scene in front of him.

"You really think we're friends?" you inquire.

"Um... yeah?" Gojo replies, unsure of why you are asking. Of course you are friends!

"No, Gojo. We are not friends," you deadpan. "We have never been friends."

You have never seen Gojo speechless before now. His mouth slightly agape, eyebrows risen, face completely frozen in place from the words that just left your mouth. You are unsure if he is genuinely in disbelief, or if he is faking it to be a menace to you as he so commonly is. Between recently reaching your limit with him and the fact that all you want is to be alone right now, the only thing you wanted to entertain was him leaving your room.

Yeah, you are exaggerating a bit. Maybe you are intentionally trying to hurt him because the sight of him in your bed right now irritates you to the extent that you simultaneously want to scream, cry, and punch a hole in the wall. Maybe there is some hyperbole interlaced into your words, and maybe you are giving off some attitude, but can he really blame you? For the amount of times he has made you feel so small, you standing your ground one time is not the end of the world, right? All you want is to be treated like how he treats Shoko, or even Geto at this point. Yet, it feels you are the butt of every joke, and it has exhausted you.

"Now, please get out of my room," you request, stepping beside your door and motioning toward it.

"...what?" Gojo finally peeps, still frozen in spot.

"What do you mean 'what'?" you groan. You cross your arms in front of you, an inquisitive look on your face as you stare at the intruder. You aren't going to let him sway you; you will get your peace for the night.

Gojo looks like he is lost in the mystery that is his mind, until suddenly, he smiles his smug smile that gets you so angry so quickly, saying, "Aw, you're so cute when you're upset! Woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, now? Or can you even have a side with how tiny this thing is?"

You glance at your twin-sized bed, which is the standard for a dormitory and one that has been in every single other person's dorm you have ever been in. While it would not surprise you if Gojo in all of his wealth brought a California King sized bed to his Jujutsu High dorm, you don't care to think about what his dorm looks like since you have never been in it before, and you don't care to be jealous of a bed. Whatever he is trying to do here is not going to work on you.

"I already asked you nicely. Get out," you persist. You know his tactics, you know he is just trying to get under your skin. You are honestly a little impressed by the impertinence of this man to break into your room on the assumption that you were going to willingly hang out with him. He truly is in his own delusional little world.

Without another word, Gojo walks out of your room, uncharacteristically quiet. You smile widely as you shut and lock your door, then lay on your bed, finally able to finish the book you have been reading the past few weeks.

-----

Satoru Gojo is distraught, to say the least.

Since leaving your room, Gojo has been sitting on the edge of his twin sized dorm bed, staring at the wall across from him as if is the Eighth Wonder of the World. If you squint your eyes enough, you can see the storm cloud above his head as he tries to piece together what he just learned, thunder rumbling more aggressively by the second. His uncertainty regarding just happened is so obvious, juxtaposing his typically self-assured persona.

Did he do something without realizing it? What do you mean by you have 'never been friends'? What did he do to make you think that? Where did he go wrong?

And to think that Gojo was in the midst of building courage to ask you on a date.

He walks out of his room, hardly even remembering to close his door as he makes his way to the only person's room he can think of going to right now; his best friend, Suguru Geto's.

Not even bothering to knock, Gojo opens the door to his friend's room to see him at his desk. It appears he is doing schoolwork, but who is Gojo if not one to encourage bad habits, such as forgoing homework?

"You know you could knock sometimes," Geto comments. He does not even need to look back to see who is in his room. This is practically a routine for the two of them at this point.

"She doesn't think we're friends," Gojo confesses in desperation. He doesn't bother with context, since he knows that Geto already knows who he is speaking about: you. "I dunno why. I just wanted to hang out with her."

Geto sighs, putting his pencil down as he concludes this worksheet is not going to be done anytime soon so long as Gojo is in his room. He spins on his chair to face the pouting boy, black hair flying behind him as he does so.

"Spill it, Satoru."

"Well, I figured if I could get a moment with her alone it would be nice since we don't really get that, but I- I couldn't think of how to ask her. So, I kind of convinced her sensei to take on a mission on the pretense that he was the only person available and it was beyond my expertise... even though it was a grade two curse I could exorcise in seconds. And then I waited in her room until she got there, and she told me to get out and that we aren't friends," Gojo explains, a little rushed with his signature toothy smile to sweeten it all at the end.

"So you manipulated her teacher, broke into her room, assumed she would be okay with that, and now, you're butthurt that she didn't want to hang out with you?" Geto interrogates, always one to see things for how they are.

"Well, when you put it like that, it makes me sound bad," Gojo whines.

"Maybe because it is bad?"

"How?" Gojo gasps.

At this point, Geto already has an understanding of the situation based on the little bit of information he has been told. Gojo, who has been talking Geto's ear off for months about how he wants to go on a date with you yet not doing anything productive toward his wishes, always tells Geto about every rumors he hears regarding you, about how pretty you look in your uniform, about how you responded to his joke the other day, and how cute you looked all flustered. But Geto already knows, and he has known based on the look on your face after Gojo makes another one of his jokes toward you, based on your body language when Gojo enters the room, and based on your lingering stare after he leaves it.

Geto thinks that maybe he should get an award, or maybe he should be given the official title of The All-Knowing Suguru Geto since he pretty is practically a psychic at this point. He feels like he is watching a rom-com about two stupidly oblivious people in love, Geto attempting to figure out whether the ending will be happy for them or not, since the main characters are too stupid to see what is right in front of them. He can see the way you long for each other. He has seen it since even before Gojo opened up to him for the first time about how he feels about you. He sees how much Gojo hurts you and how much you beat yourself up for things you cannot control. He has seen that eventually, there will be a point where Gojo cannot save himself from the hole he is digging himself. Gojo is just so... Gojo. He jumps headfirst into self sabotage, and as much as Geto has tried to help him out by giving him advice or subtly trying to get him to just shut the fuck up for once, Gojo simply doesn't understand it.

And maybe Gojo won't ever understand it. Maybe, Geto starts to think, his biggest challenge in this life is having to endure Gojo's ego being his downfall, because this all seems more difficult to endure than how special grade curses taste (which is disgusting, by the way, and he doubts he will ever get used to it).

"Well, what you did is a big overstep, but honestly, I think you are missing the point here, Satoru," Geto says, and he feels like an elementary school teacher trying to keep it together while resolving a conflict two students had over a class toy. He even has his teacher voice on, all magisterial.

"What? What do you mean? What point?" Gojo scrambles for answers, rushing his questions making him sound like a jumbled mess. He looks at Geto, desperate for advice that he will most likely choose to ignore.

"I mean," Geto clears his throat to elongate the dramatic pause he has crafted for his own entertainment, "that you are an asshole, and she's tired of it."

"Did she say something to you? How do you know? Why am I an asshole? What do-" Gojo is frantic. He does not let Geto get a word in between questions, and even if he did, he would not be able to focus enough to listen to him.

"Satoru, stop," Geto says, his voice authoritative and final. "I am not speaking for her. What I said is not fact - that was simply an assumption based on plenty of my own observation. Regardless, I think you need to lay off of her. I have witnessed one too many times where you take things too far. She's a human being with feelings and emotions, believe it or not. Your actions and words actually effect her.

Gojo stands still, and if you ask him how he feels in this moment, he would say his heart has stopped and he is unable to breathe anymore, nor does he even deserve to. Geto had mentioned these kind of things before, trying to help the two of you idiots out. But Gojo figured Geto was jealous or overly critical or boring or just plain dumb whenever he brought up this topic. it was for his best interest, he realizes, and he is an idiot for not listening sooner, only recognizing this after you humbled his ego.

"Okay," he says under his breath. "Okay. Yeah. Okay."

"Okay?" Geto raises an eyebrow, not convinced.

"Yeah! Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Yeah," Gojo says, nodding his head faster with every second. His brain racks through every thought, his shattered heart doing it's best to safety pin itself back together, his body desiring to be anywhere but here. He is seemingly in a daze, eyes not focusing on anything in particular, though Geto cannot see his eyes through his sunglasses in the dim light of his dormitory. "Yeah. Okay. I'm going to bed."

"You sure?" Geto tries to create an opening for Gojo to talk to him, though he does not want to push it.

"Yeah," Gojo responds. He walks toward the door to leave his friend's room.

"You can talk to me, you know," Geto prods. He is kind of starting to get a little worried. He has never seen Gojo this... unsure?

"Yeah. I know. Thanks, Suguru," he flashes Geto a wide smile - his signature smile - and leaves the room without another word.

Geto concludes that his best friend is a lost cause.

-----

It has been a week since the incident, and things between you and Gojo have been... weird.

Every interaction with Gojo has been so... pleasant?

Not once in the past week has Gojo mocked you relentlessly. Not once has he bothered you as he typically does. He has barely even been around you, instead opting to stay to himself evene when you, Suguru, and Shoko are hanging out. In fact, you have barely seen him. He has attended every class you share, slacking off as is expected of him nowadays, but he has not focused his attention on you as he routinely does. He has not critiqued your training efforts, nor has he laughed when you lost your practice spar with Suguru (when there was no way you were winning in the first place). He has not pushed your buttons, and he has not laughed it off whenever you told him to knock it off, as you have

The only one-on-one interaction you have had with him was when you were walking to class, Gojo was ahead of you in the hallway. At the door to the classroom both of you were headed toward, he held it open for you and offered you a hesitant smile.

"You gonna slam it into me or something?" you queried, untrusting of anything related to him, as well as hesitant to his intent based on your previous interaction.

"Nope," he responded, his smile turning into a soft pout, his face appearing dejected. "Just being friendly."

You gave him a quizzical once-over, eying him warily up and down. You then took one step, still suspicious of potential ulterior motives, then another, until you passed through the doorway without any issues. He followed a bit behind you after ensuring the door shut behind him and reached his seat next to Geto's. Immediately, he started to taunt his friend, and acted as if he were a completely different person than the one who just opened the door for you - loud and confident instead of quiet and unsure.

You hate that you miss his attention.

You absolutely detest the way you stared at him across the classroom that day. You despise how your heart stopped beating when he glanced in your direction, eyes avoiding your figure and never making eye contact with you. You loathe how his gloomy expression sent a pang of regret through your body. The discomfort of a singular pleasant interaction with Gojo is nothing compared to the agonizing emptiness you feel from him basically ignoring your existence.

This is what you wanted, is it not? You wanted peace - you yearned for it. You wanted him to stop. You wanted a break from being the receiving end of every joke. This is exactly what you asked for ever since you met him, and now you have it. So why are you so unhappy? Why, all of the sudden, do you wish Gojo would give you the time of day?

Maybe you should thank him for opening the door for you. You were kind of rude, frankly, since he did make an effort to be nice and you threw it in his face, immediately assuming the worst. Maybe he is finally listening to you and choosing to work on becoming less of a hinderance on society. You thought you were past your childish crush, but clearly, his attention meant something to you, regardless of if it was positive or negative.

"You alright?" Shoko asks you. You have been in the library studying together, but she noticed you are quieter than normal; pensive, even. You have barely touched your worksheet, staring at the paper as if it were the most confusing topic in the world when it is simple math you are a pro at.

"Hm?" you hum. You are too lost in the depths of your mind to have heard the words she spoke, though you did hear her voice.

"Something's up," Shoko claims, moving her index finger in a circle while pointing at her head. "I can tell. My Shoko senses are on high alert."

"What?" you respond, confused at what she is implying, and a little amused at the way she speaks about herself.

"I don't know, maybe from the fact that I asked you a question about our assignment and you just stared at it like you are on another planet right now?" She jeers.

"Sorry, Sho. I'm in my head," you apologize. "I didn't mean to ignore you."

"You can make it up to me by telling me what happened between you and Satoru," Shoko implores, causing you to look at her completely puzzled.

"C'mon," she drags, "He's been a pouty bitch all week, and you've been staring at him every chance you get. Started sometime last week. I can put two and two together."

You forget sometimes how well Shoko knows you. She knew about your crush on Gojo since before even you did, and regardless of how little she understands your feelings for him, she gave you advice and listened to you vent, complaining at a minimal. She listened when you came to her about how frustrated you were with him, and she consoled you when he made you upset. She and you are quite close. You cherish her as your best friend, just as she does you.

Shoko is also, obviously, somewhat close with Gojo, so she can pick up on things with him that you may not. When she asked Suguru a few months ago out of the blue how long Satoru had liked you, Suguru coughed up water that went down the wrong pipe from his surprised gasp, then told her he had only recognized his feelings a few weeks prior. Ever since she has learned such information, Shoko has tried her best to give Gojo the message that he is a dick - her methods include telling him straight up, texting him insults, and ignoring him after being an ass.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," you say, praying she will pick up on the fact that she will back off on the subject for now. As much as you know you should open up to her, your mind is so scrambled, you aren't sure as to what you could even say.

"Hey, you can deny all you want. That's cool. I'm here when you wanna talk, though. I can slap some sense into that idiot. You know I'll take any chance to," Shoko chirps.

"I know. Thanks, Sho. I appreciate that. And you. I just- I don't even know," you begin. You take a deep breath, calming yourself down a bit. You still aren't positive as to why this entire thing is bothering you so much, but it wouldn't hurt to try and work out how you're feeling, and Shoko is giving you the floor to do so. "He was in my dorm when I came back from class being cancelled last week and I was pissed and cranky and tired and annoyed, so I told him we aren't friends. I was kind of harsh and now he's barely looking at me anymore. I thought this was what I wanted, but-"

"But you're not sure why it's making you all sad," Shoko finishes your thought, saying what she knew you would struggle to say.

"Yeah. Exactly. He opened a door for me yesterday, and as small of a thing it was, it was the first time he'd acknowledged me since the other night, and then we were back to being strangers. As much as I hate to say it, I think I'd rather him be his asshole self than not even be acknowledged by him at all," you ponder. You are thinking out loud at this point, putting thoughts you have struggled all week to admit to yourself into words for your friend to hear.

"Girl, you're whipped," Shoko teases, smiling at you fondly before continuing, "...but trust me when I say that he is, too."

"Don't say that," you groan. In distress, you hide your face from her in your hands. "Gets my hopes up and I hate that."

"Okay, okay. Look, I know he's a douchebag. Trust me. I know. I can talk to him if you want me to?"

"No!" you say too quickly, the word muffled through your palms.

"Alright, message received. But before I change the subject 'cause I know you want me to, whatever happens, promise me you'll keep in mind what I always try and get through your thick skull?" she probes. You raise your head to look at her, propping it against your hand as your elbow leans on the table.

"Yeah, yeah. You'll beat his ass. I know," you quote with a chuckle since the both of you know she would never stand a chance against Gojo.

"Of course I will. Now, did you hear who Nanami has a thing for? Holy shit, I was shocked," your best friend gossips as you are leaning forward in fascination.

-----

A knock on your door echoes throughout your room. Your eyes immediately gravitate to the clock on your night stand, reading 12:17 A.M.. A dim lamp is illuminating your room, allowing you to read regardless of the darkness of the night.

Knuckles rap against the dark wood of your door once again. You realize you have just been staring and expecting the door to magically open itself to reveal whoever is bothering you at such an hour. You actually have to get out of bed and open it, as comfortable as your bed is and as much as you do not want to get out of it. You finally suck it up and decide to slip out from under your warm covers.

The floor is cold against your feet, and the air is frigid against your skin. The door handle is in your grasp before you know it as you open the door and reveal your perpetrator.

There he stands; at first glance, one may believe him to be a statue carved by ancient Romans; they took their dear time and focused all of their effort into perfecting every edge, meticulously chiseling the marble he was formed of with the utmost precision. His hair sits perfectly atop is head, as white as ever. He adorns a fitted white t-shirt and baggy black sweatpants. His hands are hidden in his pockets as he stands in front of you with the most melancholy look you have ever seen on his face. He looks so good.

Suddenly, you feel a little too exposed in your grey plaid PJ pants hanging low on your hips, a tiny, fitted black tank covering your upper half. You stare at each other for what feels like ages. While his eyes are blocked by the usual barrier of his sunglasses, you can still feel his eyes taking you in.

"Gojo?" you inquire, a tone in your voice.

"Hey. Sorry. Um, can I- could we talk? Can I come in?" He says, and you don't think you have ever seen him so unsure of himself.

"Um, sure?" you say, more confused than ever. You step back and let the other sorcerer enter your room, closing the door behind you. Yeah, you realize, you just let your archenemy into your room. Without even a fuss.

You walk to your bed and sit on the edge of it, facing Gojo, who is still standing by the entrance. As you are not sure what he is here for, as much as you want to be hospitable and tell him to sit on your desk chair or tell him to get himself comfortable, you say nothing. Instead, you opt to wait for him to lead the conversation. He was the one to seek you out, anyway.

"I, um. I guess I just wanted to say that I'm sorry," he begins. "And- shit, I'm sorry. I had something planned to say, but fuck-"

"Calm down, Gojo. You're okay. You can talk to me," you say. You are unsure as to why you are being so kind to him after everything, but you feel he needs it as he is struggling with whatever he is going to say to you. You pray this does not bite you in the ass and turn into some practical joke on you where he whips out pepper spray and blinds you or something. You're half expecting a camera crew to pop out at any point for a prank show he hired on you.

You watch Gojo take a deep breath, then another, and then another, before he says, "I've been thinking about what you said - that we've never been friends - and I just- well, I dunno. It got to me."

"I know I was harsh about that-" you begin, but Satoru cuts you off.

"No, no. No. I deserved it. I'm an asshole. I know that," he says, then inhales deeply. He then mutters to himself, "Fuck, I can't even get the damn words out."

"What?"

"I like you, okay?" he spits out, the words spilling from his lips before he can even stop himself. "I have feelings for you. I like you in the cringey fuckin' high school rom-com kinda way. I think you're too goddamn cute when you're embarrassed, like when you're flustered and blushing and shit. And when you'rre all mad, it's adorable and it makes my heart swell up and I just wanna fuckin' kiss all over you- I'm getting carried away."

You stare at Gojo in shock as he is practically out of breath, but are not given a chance to respond as he continues his monologue, walking closer to you as he speaks.

"I know I'm an asshole, and I know I've hurt you too many times. Shit, even once is too many times. I realize that now. I hate myself for letting it get to this point. I wish I could take back everything. But I really hope you'll forgive me, because fuck, this last week barely seein' you has been rough on me," he pours his heart out to you.

He is standing directly in front of you, you still sitting on the edge of your bed, still in a bit of shock at the words Gojo has just said to you. You watch silently as he removes his glasses, tucking them into his pocket, and looks you in the eyes.

"Can- can I hold your hand? Is that okay?" He implores, and you nod while you lift a hand up for him to grasp between his own. He encompasses your hand with his own and kneels before you, continuing his rant, his eyes boring into your soul.

"I am so fuckin' sorry. Truly. I'm sorry for hurting you over and over for my own shitty self-interest. I'm sorry for being an ass. I get it if you don't ever forgive me, because shit, I- I wouldn't if I were you," he persists. "But from now on, I wanna be the reason you smile. I wanna make you all flustered, but not because I hurt you; I wanna make you blush because I called you pretty. I never wanna be the reason you cry or are upset or hurt. I wanna make you the happiest girl alive - I wanna spoil you to death, I wanna wake up next to you, I wanna see you in my hoodies, I wanna take you anywhere you dream of going. I wanna- I'm getting carried away again. Shit," he harps on, taking a deep breath. "My point is that if you hate me and never wanna talk to me again, I get it. But if you wanna give me a chance, I will work every day to make up the time I wasted being a dick. I can't promise I won't tease you or go too far sometimes or make mistakes, but I can promise I'll do better, and I will learn, and I will listen. I, um- I wanna grow as a person, and I don't want to grow with anyone but you by my side. So, please - give me a chance."

Gojo finishes by giving you a soft smile, clearly nervous as to how you are going to respond.

You struggle finding the appropriate way to react - you are between jumping into his arms, begging him to never let go and slapping him in the face while screaming for him to get out. You cannot believe that this whole time, he has felt the same way toward you as you have him, but he was just too stupid to actually do anything about it.

"I-" you begin, but emotion overwhelms you, choking you up. You eyes well with tears, and Gojo immediately removes his hands from your own to wipe your woes away.

"No, no, no. No tears," he says softly.

"'m sorry," you mumble. "It's just a lot to take in, Gojo."

"I know. I'm sorry," he consoles. He moves his hands so that they are on your cheeks, and he stares at your face as if this was the last time he was ever going to be this close. "Please, please, call me Satoru from now on."

He is lost in your beauty, memorizing the curve of your nose and the shape of your upper lip and the color of your eyes when you finally speak again.

“Okay... Satoru. Thank you for, um, being honest with me. I do, uh, really appreciate you opening up and being so vulnerable,” you begin, wanting to acknowledge his accomplishment so he knows that this is a healthy step in the right direction. Your eyes are still teary, but you don’t let that stop you. You can recognize it is difficult for him to be open, so you want to push through the anxiety and just lay everything out there for him since he did the same for you.

“I guess I’ve been all in my head about how you’re, like, this God-like figure. You’re The Strongest, the one who doesn’t need anyone, y’know? Ever since I met you, I’ve been in awe of you, and I’ve spent the last year convincing myself that I’d never be good enough to catch your eye - I mean, like, how many other girls fawn over you on the daily? In my head, I was just another name on a long list. But, I'll admit, I do take a lot of what you say to me to heart. I know I shouldn’t, and I know you’re joking most of the time, but sometimes it just… hurts, I guess," you ramble. You stop and take a moment to breathe, the ever-growing tension in the room causing your anxiety to rise. Satoru notices your hesitation and he can see the gears in your mind turning and turning and turning. He uses the thumb of each of his hands to stroke your face, comb through your hair, and do whatever he can to help you calm down. You relax into his touch - one that feels so comfortable, so familiar, yet so new, and so exciting.

"And then over time, I started to resent you. No - I resented myself. I figured I would just drag you down, and with everything in your life, that’s, um- that's the last thing you would ever need, and of anyone in the world, I was the least deserving of your attention. I don’t know if that makes sense because it doesn’t even really make sense to me, but I just- I’m sorry, too. For assuming everything you said to me was to insult me, and for letting my insecurities get the best of me. All of my hurt could have been avoided if I just tried to talk to you, but I scared myself out of it every time.”

“You don’t need to apologize at all, baby. You got nothing to be sorry for. Like I said, I know I’ve been an asshole,” he speaks with a smile, and you blush at the pet name he called you. He brushes a few strands hair out of your eyes, his touch gentle, as if he is touching the most delicate piece of artwork in the world (and in his mind, he is). “And you caught my eye the second I saw you. Something about you. Just can’t get enough of it. Can’t believe you ever thought any differently, or that you aren't good enough. You're perfect. An absolute angel. I'll do everything I can to prove that to you."

"Y'know, Satoru, for having six eyes, you're such an idiot," you say, laughing a little as you do. "I'm such an idiot."

"I know," he agrees. He nods his head, continuing, "I am the most idiotic of all idiots to ever idiot."

You chuckle under your breath before saying, "That's one way to put it."

Gojo laughs softly, lifting one of his hands to run over your hair and smooth it down, muttering, "Pretty, pretty girl. Can I kiss you? Please?"

"I haven't even told you if you're getting that chance or not," you say, tilting your head as you speak.

"I know. But I also haven't been kicked out yet, so..." he drags out.

"Fair point," you acknowledge.

Satoru takes that as his opportunity to lean forward, as to which you meet him in the middle. Your lips touch, and his are so soft. He tastes so good - so sweet, so sugary. He smells like candy and vanilla, and you just want to take a bite of him. His tongue swipes at your bottom lip to ask to enter your mouth, which you immediately allow. You place your hand on his torso, slipping it underneath his shirt and letting it rest on top of his abs. He moves a hand to your nape in an attempt to bring you closer than you already are.

It feels like hours of making out pass until you finally separate. You are both out of breath, smiling and drunk on each other. You already miss the taste of him and his warmth.

"Been wanting to do that since I first saw you," Satoru confesses. His dopey smile is crooked, and he looks adorable looking at you with swollen lips and unguarded eyes.

"Me too," you agree. "Was worth the wait, I guess."

"Wait. You never answered my question," Satoru gasps. "Give me a chance, pleeease?"

"Oh yeah," you say, feigning a face deep in thought as you take your time considering your options. "Hmm... let me think. You're cute, I guess. And rich..."

“So, is that a yes or…?” Satoru wonders, to which you flick his forehead with your pointer finger and thumb.

“Yes, Satoru. Fine, I’ll give you a chance," you huff sassily, sarcasm laced in every syllable.

"YAYYYYYYYY!"

Bonus

“Hell yeah! Hand over my yen,” Shoko exclaims to Suguru.

The two of them are taking their weekly morning walk - one they go on every Wednesday. It’s a nice way for them to relieve stress, allowing them to explore the beautiful nature that surrounds their school. However, third member of their trio failed to meet with them at their normal spot this morning, acknowledging it with just a simple text saying, “sorry busy ttyl got some things to tell u ＼(＾ 3＾)／”. They’re surprised he even sent them anything since he has a habit of ghosting and being a no show.

“Huh? Why?” Suguru’s eyebrows crease as he looks to Shoko inquisitively.

“Our bet, dumbass,” she says while pointing toward the field ahead, where you and Satoru sit together having what looks like a mini picnic. While it seems a bit early for a picnic, you must have watched the sunrise or something. There is a large, plaid blanket laid on the grass, a bag full of sweets and snacks, and the two of you facing the now risen sun. You have your head on the boy’s shoulder, his arm around your waist. You two are obviously very... cozied up.

“Damn, really?” Suguru says, a little surprised. “Figured it would take Satoru at least five more business days to figure his shit out.”

“Doesn’t matter. Give me my money, man,” Shoko joked, and Suguru pulls his wallet out of the pocket of his kimono, fishing the amount of yen he agreed to out and handing it to her. “I think I’m gonna have a smoke. You want one too?”

Suguru watches as Gojo looks down at you with lovesick eyes, then kisses you with more passion he has ever seen his best friend have. It’s quite an abnormal sight. Kinda gross, too.

“Yes, please,” Suguru sighs, turning around and following Shoko to their usual smoking spot.

You two are a disgustingly adorable couple, and Suguru already misses when you hated each other and weren’t all over each other. He can tell it’s going to get… a bit bothersome for people other than the two of you. But at least his friends are happy, right? Maybe The All Knowing Geto should be next in line for his free couples counseling services since his advice is so clearly effective.

Oh, well. Now he may be down 2,500 yen, but at least he didn't have to deal with you two being stupidly in love and not knowing it anymore. Now, you're stupidly in love, but you know it.

Actually, he isn't sure which is worse.

Thank you for reading :))))) i spent a lot of time with this one and am pretty proud & hope you enjoy <3333

#jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo saturo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo #fanfic #jjk #gojo jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk satoru

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