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#i promise there is someone better out there

neil-gaiman · 20 hours

Note

Hello Mr Gaiman. I have read all of your books.

This is not an ask, rather an answer.

I would like to say thank you for saving me. Knowing I will never meet you will not change the way I feel about you or myself.

Love your fiction work. I feel bad for the fact that it’s not fiction to me. It is my life story.

Very sad one. That I am still trying to make sense of today.

I was raised by the other mother. Not really, but I was raised by a bipolar narcissist who hated me and loved me but didn’t know how to do either. She sexually abused me for 12 years.

No one ever believed me. No one.

So I would pretend that I was Coraline and that I was brave. I was. But that was because I knew that the spell had to break at some point.

I am 24 now. She is old and frail but the hell she has made in my mind - I almost never escaped. Until I understood that I truly was stronger.

Because she tried to make me just like her, but I refused. I picked kindness.

If you can’t find a friend, be one. If you can’t find someone you look up to- become someone who others can look up to.

I did. I tried my best. I promise.

I want to tell you the ultimate secret that no one ever could. You probably figured it out a long time ago, but it still makes me feel better to write it here, even if I know that you might never reply or ask me if I am safe, or dismiss me like a crazed fan/abused child who desperately needs help and attention.

I don’t. I would like to be your friend. But I know it is not possible.

So I want you to know I know why they do it.

They do it for the same reason as you wrote books. To not feel alone.

But that is the problem with existing in this world. Evil is nothing but not understanding yourself and hating different people from you.

Ignorance brings hate. How do you justify yourself in a world like this?

Simple.

You change the world by breading more people who believe hate is love, and love is hate. Evil needs justification. Kindness needs non.

I sat alone for 24 years and told no one. The paragraph above was just the start and the ending.

My story is still unfolding. But I wanted to let you know you are no longer sitting alone at your birthday party.

Because the only present I ever got was knowing someone else like me existed.

Someone who could look evil in the eye and stare back.

And never stop talking about it.

Thank you Mr. Gaiman, for writing “View from the Cheap Seats”

When I read it I put it down as well as the razor that I wanted to end my life with.

Because you were my only friend. And you still are.

And I cannot take the injustice anymore. If they won’t read, I will read to them.

I will save them just like you saved me. Making reading cool and easy.

And I will do it for you and me. So that no one else can see the horrors anywhere but in books and movies.

And I will do it one act of kindness and love at a time.

So they will know that injustice is just a state of mind.

Thank you Mr.Gaiman. You gave me hope.

And now I will do the unthinkable. I will try until my dying breath to change their mind.

One step forward into a future where you are not sad and a story like mine is just a horror movie and not a reality.

Because you are my only friend, and I hate to see my friends sad.

Leto

I'm so proud of you, and this made me tear up.

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cntloup · 3 days

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You're both unhinged and self-sabotaging... idiots😒

Everything was going perfectly. Even though for him, managing a relationship was very difficult, also challenging for both of you. Due to his job, his past, also yours... you had your own demons too. But after some time of battling your inner demons and trying so hard to be better for each other, you could say it was perfect... Or so you thought.

Doubt started creeping through the crevices of your mind, dribbling droplets of poison bit by bit.

He started coming back home late, sometimes drunk... never too much, but you always noticed.

You started finding bits and pieces of what your poisoned mind thought as evidence... evidence of what? No... it couldn't be.

There were occasionally pieces of paper with someone's number on it in his pockets when you were to empty them before doing laundry.

There were strands of long hair on his clothes, different colors each day.

It all messed with your mind to the point of madness.

You started to pull away from him more and more every day.

And it seemed as though he didn't care at all.

What you didn't know was that he was doing the same.

It was all too much for him, so new... this newfound feeling burning in his heart, seething more day by day, overwhelming him to the point of wanting to entirely sever the ties between you.

And he thought he doesn't deserve it. All the love you give him, doting on him all the time. He felt like you're wasting your pure heart on a broken man who can't give anything back, pouring all your heart into this blackhole.

-----

"What’s wrong?" he asks, noticing your lingering gaze on his clothes.

"What’s this, Simon?... I- I keep finding these on your clothes..." you respond, voice almost shaking as you're on the verge of tears.

"We were sparring with the rookies. That's probably where they came from." he says, pausing for a moment, "What? You thought-"

"What about the numbers? Huh? The numbers in your pocket?" you cut him off, a cutting edge to your tone as you glare at him with rage... and fear... fear of what you might find out.

"What? They probably slipped them in my pocket when I was in the shower... fuckin' perverts... I was gonna throw them out... I forgot... What are you trying to say?" he says, voice rising with each sentence to match your angry tone.

You continue staring at him with millions of emotions coursing through you all at the same time.

Until you suddenly break down, wailing as you collapse on the ground and he's utterly dumbfounded as he stands there, not knowing what to do... or what even happened to cause such a reaction.

He takes you in his arms, still not sure about the whole situation.

"What’s wrong, love? Please talk to me!" he says while holding you and rubbing your back to somewhat soothe you.

"Simon! I- I don't know what's wrong with me... I'm sorry..." you choke out through violent sobs.

"Why did you come back so late? Not just tonight... Why did you start to act so distant all of a sudden?" you ask, gazing at him through glossy eyes as countless tears stream down your face.

"I'm sorry... I... I'm not used to this..." he utters in a quiet voice, head hanging down.

"It was going great! What happened to us?!" you ask as you cling to his chest while still uncontrollable sobs escape you.

"I think this is new for us both." he says, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer.

"Yeah..." you hum, holding on to him tightly, not planning to let go any time soon. And he will hold you back through all of it.

"We'll work through it, right?" you ask hesitantly, "We will, love... I promise." he says, finally putting your mind at ease.

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boowritess · 13 hours

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so apparently it's really fucking hard to get into the SAS. and ontop of that I've been getting tiktoks of people going around an army base asking why they joined. most responses were to pay off student loans, bills, school, (someone said there's was 6 years of prison or school and *mental note for idea*), the recruiter lied or spoilt them, barracks bunny.

141 (poly?) x notsobaddasssoldier!reader

and now i can't stop thinking of soldier!reader. who really half-assed their way through everything - only doing the job for the money and to pay off student loans + they had nothing better to do.

who somehow ends up being adopted by Price (kinda like Gaz i guess ???) all because reader happened to be in the right place at the right time and saved Price's ass while managing to complete a mission the Task Force were doing.

and it's not that you saved his ass or completed the mission that makes Price go *this is mine* - it's the fact that afterwards all you can say is-

"this shit is so not worth paying off my student loans."

"oh fuck i forgot to cancel my subscription. fuckk- wast of fucking money"

- all the while a building is burning in front of you but yeah just not at all concerned about what had just happened. so price just *grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you up, claiming you as part of his task force now.*

(lol you probably can't do that irl but this is fiction sooo suck my ass.)

and laswell's just like no... they are very much still green john. way too green. no.

but it's too late. he's already introducing you to the task force. singing your praises and you're just like

"man he promised to pay off my student loans and give me food." basically how ur recruiter got ya ass.

enough said. you get the whole off the books speech, saving the world by doing things others wouldn't like. but u couldn't give a rats ass - you should but nah...

and like... you know you're the rookie... you're still green... but some of the shit 141 do you just...

"so you just gonna kidnap the wife AND the child...? right... kid, you wanna watch bluey? here..."

"and you do this often...? crazy."

but you don't exactly protest. how could you with how much you get paid. you kinda just side-eye and look away when it's geta a lil crazy. *bombastic side-eye*

and the other 141 guys - oh my days. become just as enormed as price and want to start really trying to amplify your skills. but every time, they start explaining how to do things - the best way to go about a situation or how to fight a certain way.

you pull this face. like your top lip pulls back, your eyebrows scrunch together, and there's a slight frown on your lips as they speak. like you look confused/disgusted. but you don't even realise cause-

"why're you pulling that face?" 141

"that's... that's just my focusing face..."

"oh..." 141 feels bad

then when they do take you in feild you're shaking your head no. like you haven't been around that long. what the fuck? now you're bout to infiltrate an enemy base!?!?!

"can i just wait in the car?"

"no." price

"i'm gonna vomit."

"aim at the enemy." ghost

people think that because you're suddenly in this badass task force that surely they're just using you for your assets.

they all think you're the 141 barracks bunny. and maybe you should be pissed or annoyed or grossed out. but all you can do is sigh and pause from the burger price got you, and let out a long exhale.

"fuck... maybe i can just do onlyfans or be a pornstar... shit maybe it's not too late..."

"military is bascially sex work - selling my body..."

"not that different from what i'm doing now. body being used, check. body sore in the strangest places, check."

your tone so empty, blank and nonchalant, but there's a serious look in your eyes that when you grab your phone out to maybe do a little research on how you could do that, your phone is snatched from your hand by one of the guys and they walk out the room without a second look back.

with an annoyed huff, you go back to eating your burger. but suddenly, you turn to the person who genuinely thought you were a barracks bunny.

"hey you think if i be a barracks bunny i get out of missions and shit?"

"...that's not how it works..." rando.

"fuck."

and maybe you try...

like you go to price's office and the guys are already in there, chatting about something that you should really pay attention too but you can't be assed. instead you unashamedly start to speak...

"if i suck ya'll dicks can i get out the mission?"

"no. you still have to join." gaz says amused

"even if you-" *que long sigh from price* "even if you suck our dicks."

"that's fucked up. i should've done porn."

and with the most hurt and broken-hearted look on your face, you leave the office, closing the door with a dramatic sigh. the guys just stare at the door in... confusion, amusement, and maybe arousal if ya'll dig that

idk man just gimmie more soldier!reader who just really ain't the fucked, there for money, lowkey hungry and doesn't know what the fuck is happening. kinda a pet or little sibling energy that the 141 love.

bonus*

"wait so they aren't sucking our dicks?" *soap says getting slapped in the back of the head by ghost

a/n: brain is rottinnggg. i should be doing so much other shit but... cod just consumes my brain 24/7

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turquoisenintendo64 · 3 days

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Love Comes to Everyone !

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂

in which: a daughter of aphrodite is camp half-blood’s matchmaker, but can’t seem to find someone for herself.

percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite!reader

part 1

warnings: use of y/n, there is no such thing as forbidden children, percy has a little half-sister, pipabeth implied

a/n: part 2 of love comes to everyone!! this took me less than i thought. i’m so happy the part 1 got so much love <33

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂

you and percy were watching mary from afar, sitting on a tree branch, as she was playing with two apollo kids.

she hadn’t been claimed yet, what saddened you.

“have you eaten a whole lemon before?” percy asked, gaze fixed in mary.

“too sour,” you answered. “… have you?”

“it’s good,” he chuckled.

one of the apollo kids that were playing with mary approached you.

“i don’t think she’s a daughter of apollo,” she said, showing you four broken bows. “and she sings terrible.”

“well, we’ve tried everything,” he got up. “i surrender.”

you grabbed him by the shirt.

“we’re not leaving her until she gets claimed,” you said. “understood?”

he sighed, then grinned. “yes ma’am.”

you held mary’s hand, and led her to the dining pavilion.

“can i eat with you?” she asked, looking up at you and percy.

you shared a look.

“you have to eat at-“

“sure,” percy cut you off, “we’ll sit at my table, i’m the only one in it anyway.” he said, looking at you.

you explained offerings to mary, and after her many questions of why gods could possibly like the smell of burnt mac and cheese, she decided to give up her strawberries.

mary asked percy about his parents, and you noticed how he talked a lot about his mom and just a bit about his dad, even though mary was asking about poseidon all the time.

you went back to your cabin, finding annabeth and piper cuddling in piper’s bed while they talked in whispers. they told you they were going to have a picnic, if you wanted to go with them.

but you were not in the mood to third wheel your sister and her girlfriend, so you declined the offer. in addition, you had promised percy to accompany him while he showed mary around the beach.

you picked a blue dress and took a shower.

you blow dried your hair and asked one of your sisters to fish-braid your hair, and got frustrated when it didn’t look how you wanted. when it finally looked good for you, she helped you do your make up. natural, you didn’t want to seem desperate.

when you were all done you took a minute to think why were you trying so hard to look really good if you were just going to the beach with a little girl and a friend. right?

and to think that you subconsciously wore blue because you know percy’s favourite colour is blue.

you still denied having feelings for him, though. thinking, or rather, knowing he could have anyone much better than you.

but you couldn't help thinking he meant himself when he told you the one for you was closer than you thought. no, no chance.

you couldn't ask him, obviously not, he would probably laugh in your face and tell you you were deluded.

but everything with him felt so intimate, for some reason. you have been hanging out much more since mary arrived to camp, as she refused to be with anyone else that wasn’t you both. every glance, laugh, hug or smile felt way more intimate than it actually was, and you could not bare it.

so you did the cowardly thing, you avoided him.

you stopped talking to him completely, walking the other way when he was coming in your direction. this led you to not spend time with mary, too, since she was with percy all the time.

you didn’t want to be far from them, though. you felt really close with both of them. and you lost track of the moment when you stopped being with mary because you had to and started being with her because you wanted to.

you loved mary. she was the sweetest girl you have ever met, and you wanted to be around her all the time and be part of her life at camp half-blood. but she reminded you too much of percy.

but your unstoppable feelings went worse when piper told you the three of you looked like a happy family.

so you convinced yourself that’s how it had to be. away from them, so you wouldn’t fall in love with someone who was with you for duty and not want.

“y/n,” piper called, opening the bathroom door, where you were brushing your hair. “mary’s at the door, asking for you.”

you frowned slightly and headed to the door. you haven’t talked to mary in weeks, yet she still smiled at you as bright as ever.

“hi y/n!” she waved effusively, and her poorly done pigtails shook.

“hi mary,” you smiled sweetly at her, guilt consuming your head suddenly.

“i’ve missed you, where have you been?” she asked, and even more guilt flooded in.

she was just a little girl, leaving her without explanation was wrong.

but you still thought it was the best.

“i was busy, sorry. come in.” you stepped aside and she walked in, rather jumping than walking.

“can you do my hair? percy’s terrible at it, he can’t even do pigtails!” she pointed to her head.

“pigtails are the easiest thing ever, but he has short and always-perfect hair, so he doesn’t need to care about hairstyles,” you said.

you entered the bathroom again, and she entered before you.

you sat crisscrossed in the floor and she mirrored your action, sitting in front of you. you undid her pigtails and brushed her hair gently.

“you’re right, he’s just a boy,” she said matter-of-factly. you snorted.

“do you want pigtails or braids?”

“pigtails. percy has missed you too, by the way.”

you paused some seconds to process it, blinked a few times and continued brushing her hair.

“is that so?”

“yes. he was always expecting you to come with us, and was really sad when you never showed up.”

now you felt even more guilty. you knew they would get upset with your sudden disappearance, but hearing it directly was different.

“i’m sorry, i was busy with… things. thoughts,” you explained.

“don’t worry, it was fun with percy. he gave me one of his plushies, a dolphin. he told me dolphins are actually evil, but i think they are cute. he also gave me a magazine about sea animals,” she told you, excited. “i love sea animals, and percy knows a lot about them.”

“did you know percy can talk with them?” you said.

“yes! he told me. i had a fish, his name was robert. he always talked to me about his wife he left in the sea. i felt guilty and took him to the beach and-“

“you understood your fish? like you knew what he was saying?”

“yes. but percy does too, isn’t that normal?”

you did her pigtails quickly and rushed out of your cabin.

even though you were literally ignoring him and have been doing that for weeks, you ran to percy.

“percy,” you called.

he turned around, and his bright smile dropped, turning into a surprised look.

“y/n? where have you been? i haven’t seen you in-“

“mary is your sister,” you blurted out.

“what?”

“she’s a daughter of poseidon.”

he frowned.

“how do you know that? why do you appear suddenly and say something like that?”

you sighed. “she had a fish. robert. she could understand the fish, percy.”

he seemed too stunned to say anything. you didn’t know if it was for what you just say, or the bottled up anger he had towards you in that very moment.

in your staring-in-silence moment, you heard splashes of water. but it wasn’t until you heard gasps that you went to see what it was.

mary was fighting with a boy, visibly older than her, in the lake. she went to push him, but a wave of water took him down.

percy was going to get her, but you stopped him.

“wait,” you told him, with your hand resting in his chest. he tensed at your touch.

she looked scared, you wanted to go with her too. but you knew what could come next.

and you were right.

a huge, glowing trident appeared on top of her head, and everyone bowed.

mary now looked even more scared, and she ran towards you and percy.

“what is that?” she asked. the symbol faded, and she hugged you two tightly.

“you have been claimed,” percy told her. “by poseidon.” he smiled at her.

she looked up at him, with teary eyes.

“does that mean you are my brother?” she asked, joy suddenly turning her before sad eyes happy.

“yes,” he said, chuckling.

“mary wheeler,” you heard chiron say. he smiled warmly at her. “daughter of poseidon.”

“it fits,” you said, caressing her back.

“now we are going to be roommates, and we can share all of my plushies and magazines.” mary let out a laugh that melted your heart.

percy looked at you, smiling softly. you felt guilty again, for leaving them. but now you were together again.

you thought about your growing feelings, and if it was a good idea to speak about them. not in that moment, definitely.

you felt like you had to tell him whatever was going through your head, and maybe he would understand how stupidly you had acted. so you told him to meet you at the time of the campfire, so no one could bother you.

you found yourself stressing over looking good again, and wearing blue.

you heard piper snorting. she was leaning against the bathroom door as you were doing your makeup.

“what now?” you said.

“nothing,” and she walked away.

you rolled your eyes.

that’s too much blush. now i look like i just died. wrong shade. that was your train of thought as you got ready.

since when was having a crush so difficult?

you walked out the bathroom. everyone was already at the campfire, so your cabin was empty. you saw percy outside of your cabin, and suddenly you had the urge to change the jeans you were wearing, but it was too late.

you opened the door and smiled at percy.

“hey,” you greeted.

“hi,” he said back. he looked a bit sad, yet he was smiling.

you were grinning now, your cheeks almost hurting. gosh, you were absolutely nervous right now.

you closed the door and sat down at the stairs of the porch.

you stayed in silence for what felt like hours, none of you brave enough to break it. you had the feeling that he was just as nervous as you.

“what happened? why did you avoid me?” he asked, looking at you. he looked like a sad puppy.

“nothing. i didn’t mean to upset you, really, i was busy and confused with…” you paused, “something.”

“you could’ve talked to me. we’re friends, you can trust me,” he said, and you gave him a lopsided smile.

“i know, i know. i’m so sorry, i really am,” you said avoiding his gaze. your cheeks started to turn red and your words to trip. “i could not tell you what was happening. it was… it is difficult to say and…” you groaned.

he was still looking at you, patient. waiting for you to come up with something. something that could answer everything he has been questioning.

his green eyes were deep, deeper now than ever. the chill night breeze was brushing through his hair, and yours.

he was looking at your hair, and how beautiful it looked. how beautiful you looked. in the nightlight, you looked like you were glowing, natural spark emanating from you.

your flushed cheeks were even more bright. percy felt the need to hold your face and caress it. to touch you, hold you, kiss you.

he just wanted to be as close as possible to you, and not let you go away ever again.

“i’ve been feeling kind of weird lately,” you started.

he nodded.

“but not in a bad way, i think. i feel weird when i’m around you, i feel so nervous and anxious. i have a strange feeling in my when i think about you, as if someone was holding my heart.”

he suppressed a smile. but to you, it looked like he was disgusted with your words.

“what i mean is… i think i like you, percy. no, not like you. i think i’m falling in love with you, and that’s scary. super scary. i’ve been thinking for so long that maybe you like me too. remember that time when you told me love takes time? and maybe the one for me was closer than i thought? well, i couldn’t stop thinking that maybe you meant the one for me was you, but that doesn’t make sense and… i’m so sorry,” you finished. you hid your face in your knees and heard him laughing.

oh.

oh no.

he was laughing.

he was laughing at you.

this was the moment when he tells you ‘you have been being delusional this whole time!’ and leaves you alone. this was it, the end of the world.

oh holy aphrodite, if you are hearing me, please-

“i’m in love with you too.”

“i knew you would say that and- wait,” you looked at him.

his smile was as bright and big as the sun, and his cheeks were flushed, just like yours.

“you are?” you asked.

“i’ve always been. i really thought i was pretty obvious but… apparently everyone knew except you.”

you took a moment to stare at him a little longer. maybe now it was more appropriate, considering he was doing the same thing.

“you are gorgeous. it makes me kind of mad,” you told him. a laugh slipped from his lips, and you felt the need to kiss him until you were out of breath.

“well, you are beautiful,” he responded.

just now you realised how close he was. his eyes darted from your eyes to your lips, and he didn’t let you much time to react when he leaned in to kiss you.

you kissed him back, caressing the back of his neck.

his hands traveled to your hips and he pulled you closer. you felt him smile in the kiss.

the kiss shifted from sweet to more passionate. his hands were all over you, touching you like he feared you would disappear.

you pulled away, he followed your lips as you separated.

“your chapstick tastes good,” he joked. you chuckled softly.

“it’s blueberry,” you told him.

“wear it more, i like it,” he stroked your hand.

you smiled at him lovingly.

you loved him, and he loved you too. finally someone loved you too.

you’ve spent your whole life waiting for your turn to be loved, and now he was in front of you.

you were glad it was percy. it couldn’t be anyone but him.

annabeth and piper were hiding behind a tree, looking at you.

“great,” piper said. “now we owe mary five bucks.”

#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #aphrodite #cabin 10 #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson one shot #percy jackson fic

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seungcheorry · 1 day

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jihoon likes to help you out more than he likes to tease you - you may not believe him, but he does.

so when he tells you to trust him, go to your office's bathroom and touch yourself, he knows what he's doing.

"just tease yourself a bit, love", he casually says on the phone while you can still hear him clicking and typing things away on his studio. "rub the parts you like".

jihoon smirks when he hears you groaning for the first time. you've been way too stressed, you deserved that little time for yourself.

"okay, now push one finger in for me~"

"jihoon, someone can come in-"

"did you lock the door?", and when you hum a yes, he chuckles. "then we're fine. one finger in, now".

you do, and you sigh to the feeling.

"does it feel good? okay, now push another one for me, baby".

jihoon stops working when he hears your first moan, now with two of your fingers knuckles deep inside you.

"curl them up, i know you like it when i do that, love", jihoon tells you, and loves the sound you make when you reach your sweet spot. "there you go~ now thrust your fingers, baby, fuck yourself good".

he doesn't need to tell you twice, you're already moving your fingers before he finishes his sentence. it feels good, and jihoon must know that too for the way you moan and for the sounds that your fingers are making.

"do you wish it was me fingering you though, love? i would love to do it for you... maybe even use my tongue".

"fuck, jihoon..."

the bastard just laughs at you, closing his eyes to imagine you coming closer to your climax. your moans are getting a bit more desperate.

"shit, i'm gonna cum- talk to me, babe, please".

"i can't, i'm busy thinking about having my face between your thighs, tongue fucking you until you cum in my mouth- shit, i need that now, yn".

and then you cum, getting both your fingers all dirty in the process.

"you better suck your fingers clean, taste yourself, baby", jihoon says. "i'll do that too later tonight, i promise".

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hgfictionwriter · 3 days

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Mending

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Despite how great a girlfriend Jessie is, old hurt bleeds into your relationship with her and threatens to dismantle it.

Warnings: Mentions of emotional manipulation and abuse.

A/N: Bit of angst and hurt as reader recalls past experiences, but very much a comfort and reassurance fic. Happy ending. Based on this request.

"Hey, change of plans, instead of going out for dinner after the game on Saturday, Becky's invited us all to go to her house instead."

A heavy pit immediately formed in your stomach as you read Jessie's message. You totally forgot about dinner with her and the team on Saturday. Suddenly, the memory of you agreeing to come to dinner to celebrate Becky's milestone caps was vivid in your mind, unfortunately too late though.

You chewed the inside of your lip as you stared at her message and fret about what to do.

"Jessie, I'm so, so sorry. I completely forgot. I have [y/best friend]'s birthday that night. I didn't realize when I agreed that there was a conflict. We have reservations and tickets to an event that night. I'm really sorry - I don't think I can go to your game or to Becky's after. I wish I could though."

"I can't believe I didn't notice sooner. I promise I will make it up to you. I know you have plans the next day already, but maybe we could grab breakfast together?"

"All good. I have errands to run in the morning, so can't do breakfast."

You stared at Jessie's message. It wasn't warm like her usual texts. And she didn't offer an alternative or continue the conversation. Your chest tightened.

"That's okay! I wanted to offer. I'm really sorry, Jessie. I promise I'll pay closer attention next time. Maybe I could meet you after my event is over?"

"Or maybe I can skip part of something and join you for a bit that evening?"

A couple of hours passed - no response.

You stared at the messages with Jessie and fidgeted anxiously. You were supposed to be focused on a project right now, but you hadn't typed more than 50 words since Jessie texted.

You checked your phone incessantly. Your mind knew no new texts had come through, yet you checked with blind faith and hope that you'd see a message from her.

Logically, you knew she was probably just busy. She was at training, after all. But she'd made time to text you earlier. And she'd texted at various points of training before.

Your stomach churned, a heavy, deep pit inside of you, as you wondered if Jessie was mad at you for cancelling. And did she actually have errands that morning – or was she just upset with you.

The anxiety and unrest building inside of you was a feeling that was all too familiar and it hit you hard because of it.

You tried to remind yourself that Jessie wasn't your ex. Nor was she like your ex. She wasn't someone who would manipulate you, punish you with mind games and emotional warfare, and dangle her affection above your head as a reward you may receive if you were perfect enough.

At least Jessie wasn't like that so far. It had only been a couple of months. And you've seen people take great care and patience in slowly reveal who they are – and not for the better.

You sighed and felt a lump form in your throat. You hated being stuck in this state. You finally worked up the courage to leave your ex – and she didn't make it easy – but you wanted a better life.

You didn't want to walk on eggshells anymore. You didn't want to analyze every little action and word. You didn't want to try to anticipate your partner – doing your best to ward off her bad moods and brace yourself for when you weren't successful.

So, could you cancel on [y/best friend]? Well, anything's possible. But, you didn't want to. You gave up so much of yourself and your life on account of your ex and you swore you wouldn't do it again. Not even for someone as incredible as Jessie.

Yet, here you were making unprompted, borderline-desperate accommodations. The way you fell into old, bad habits left you dejected and ashamed. It felt like no matter how hard you tried to break cycles or damaging mindsets, simple things pulled you right back.

Several hours passed and you felt like you were going to be sick. Your mind was noisy with self-reprimanding thoughts and endless theories.

On your way home, you were looking at your messages with Jessie again when the typing bubble came up. Your body stilled and your breath hitched in your chest. You mouth was dry as you waited.

"You don't have to do any of that, Y/N. Seriously. Go to your friend's party!"

What did that really mean? Maybe it should've made you feel better, but instead you felt your worry grow.

You chewed your lip and typed out a reply.

"I can do both! I want to make it work. I'm sorry – that's what I should've said from the beginning."

"What? No. You don't need to. Go to [y/best friend]'s party."

"But I want to support you. And I don't want you to think I'm not prioritizing you."

"I'm sorry. I'm not sure what's happening. I think I've said something that's come across wrong. I'm not upset or bothered at all. I know you support me and prioritize me. And to be clear, you shouldn't prioritize me above yourself or everyone else."

You read Jessie's message. While you were dissecting everything she said, this message made you slow down and take a step back. It felt genuine – as far as you could tell. Maybe it was real.

"Okay. I'm sorry. I guess I was just reading into things and getting in my head. I'm sorry."

"Baby. Are you okay? What's going on?"

Without warning, you felt tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. You really wanted this relationship to be different. For you to be different, and you were ruining things anyway.

You were lost in your thoughts when your phone began to vibrate in your hand. You stopped in your tracks as your eyes shot down to see Jessie's name and picture. Your pulse quickened, but in a way you weren't used to with Jessie. Normally, it was excitement and anticipation, but in this moment you felt trepidation. You started walking again and reluctantly picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey." Jessie's voice was warm and despite your concerns, immediately comforting. "I was going to wait for your text, but I thought maybe phone would be better. Things can get misconstrued easily with text. So...what's going on? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm great." It pained you to muster up the false levity in your voice. "I'm sorry to worry you."

"You know, I'm the Canadian here, and yet you are doing an awful lot of apologizing. And you really don't need to," she offered with a soft laugh.

"I'm-" You stopped yourself with a near flinch before the word 'sorry' came out again. You took a quick breath and spoke evenly. "I'm okay. Really. Like I said, I was just getting in my head. It's all good though. Thanks for clarifying."

"Okay," Jessie said slowly, clearly not fully convinced. "I mean, can you tell me what I said that caused that? It definitely wasn't my intention."

You couldn't prevent your frustrated sigh from escaping you. You quickly spoke up to prevent Jessie from thinking it was about her.

"Honestly Jessie, it's okay. It's not on you. I just wanted to make sure I didn't upset you."

"Why would I be upset? I-" Jessie's tone was curious and not accusatory, but you cut her off.

"I wasn't paying close enough attention and I had to cancel on you. And I know your team was expecting me to be there too, so now you have to make an excuse for me." You swallowed and took a short breath, unsure if you wanted to go on or not. "And, I don't know. You seemed kind of curt? Or not that warm when you first responded? And then I didn't hear from you for a while..." Your voice wavered and trailed off as you heard your own words, a sense of anger rising inside of you at how pathetic you sounded.

"Baby," Jessie said affectionately, though you heard a faint laugh coming through the phone, "I'm really sorry. I was rushing to text you before we went out on the pitch, so that's why my texts were a bit more curt or blunt than usual, but I wanted to reply to you before I'd be gone for a while. I guess I didn't think about how that might be worse."

You listened to her reply, still feeling small, and failed to come up with a response before she spoke again.

"Are you free tonight?" She asked. "And by 'tonight' I mean in like an hour."

You stammered briefly, skepticism and confusion clouding your response before finding your voice. "Yeah." You let a beat pass. "Any reason why?" You asked tentatively.

Jessie laughed gently. "Because I'd like to come over and bring you dinner if you're up for it."

Your jaw clenched subconsciously. This didn't feel right. But still, you nodded. "Sure. That'd be nice." You couldn't stop yourself before you continued. "But you really don't need to. I've already caused issues today. Like, you don't need to change your plans or go out of your way. I'm totally fine."

"Sushi or Vietnamese?" She asked you undeterred.

"I-I don't know. Up to you."

"I would like your opinion," she continued lightly. It took you a couple of seconds to reply.

"Sushi."

"Done. I'll be at your place in about an hour, okay?"

"Jessie..." You weren't even sure what you were protesting anymore. It just all felt unfamiliar.

"I'll see you soon, babe."

True to her word, Jessie showed up at your apartment an hour later, sushi in hand.

"Hi," she said with a warm smile as she stepped in, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in for a kiss. Even though your reciprocation was delayed and mild, she pulled back and still smiled at you sweetly.

"Thank you for having me over. I got you an extra order of those dragon rolls you like," she announced as she walked further in and set the bag down on your kitchen counter. She started retrieving plates from your cupboards. You stood passively behind, watching her move through your apartment leisurely.

"What can I grab you to drink?" She asked over her shoulder as she carried everything over to your table.

"I'm fine. I have some water," you told her, feeling like your voice was disappointingly meek. You refocused a moment later and straightened, taking a step towards your fridge. "What can I get you?"

"I've got it," she assured you lightly, holding up her hands, gesturing for you to relax. "I'll grab water. Take a seat. Dig in."

You slowly made your way over to the table. Your eyes remained fixed on her as you sat down. By the time she took her seat, you hadn't even retrieved your chopsticks off the table. She held your gaze and took a sip of her drink. She set the glass down and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I was going to dig into things after dinner, but I get the sense it's heavy on your mind, so, if you're okay with it maybe we can just talk right now." It was more of a statement than a question, but she did leave the door open for you to object. When you didn't, she stood up slightly and shuffled over with her chair to sit right in front of you, your knees nearly touching.

"Is this okay?" She asked as she took your hands in hers. You gave a few faint nods and she offered you a small smile. "Okay. I guess I can start by clarifying – I didn't mean to sound curt or cold at all. I was in a rush and didn't think about how my words could come across via text. I'm glad you told me though, because now I know if there's something bigger going on I can approach things differently.

"If I don't have time to fully respond, would it be okay if I just tell you that I'm short on time but will answer you more later? And as part of that, tell you things are okay – I just want more time to give a full reply?"

Your posture straightened and you blinked as you processed her words. It just felt so strange.

"Y-yeah. That'd be totally fine." You shrugged before shutting your eyes and rethinking things. "But, that's silly. You don’t need to do that. I just should know and be able to not spiral." While you felt nervous and uncertain a few seconds ago, you now felt a wave of internal disappointment going through you. She brought you back to the moment by stroking the back of your hand with her thumb.

"I can communicate more clearly and intentionally," she assured you gently. "And you don't have to 'just know' - you're not a mind reader." She paused, holding your gaze before visibly exhaling. "But that does make me wonder. Why do you feel like you have to be a mind reader?"

You could almost feel yourself shrink under the weight of her question. You averted your gaze and could feel your hands starting to get clammy.

"Hey," she said softly, urging you to look back at her as she lifted her hand and gently cupped your cheek. "It's okay. I don't want to push you, but, I feel like there's something more going on here, and...I care for you so much. I want to better understand. Better understand you, where you're coming from, and how I can be a better partner to you."

You don't know what happened. All of a sudden you felt your face screw up as tears started to form in your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice coming out strained. She shuffled in closer and cupped your face anew.

"Hey, hey. Don't apologize. It's okay to cry. Take your time. I'm here." She caressed your hand and though you couldn't hold her gaze for long, you felt her caring eyes upon you. "You can talk whenever you like – if you like."

A few stifled sobs snuck out of you and you rolled your eyes at your lack of composure. She waited patiently and laid a lingering kiss on your forehead. You took a few deep, steady breaths and began to speak.

"I-I don’t know where that came from," you explained, forcing a mild laugh. She didn't return your laugh and you grew serious once more. "I," you spoke and your words faded. You took another quick breath and set your shoulders back. "I'm just not used to being treated like that. Like you did just now. And," your gaze flicked away out of guilt, "I don't know what to do with it. And I have a very hard time trusting it."

Jessie pulled her hand away from your face to take your other hand again. "Okay. Um. Well, first off, I'm really sorry that you're not used to being treated that way. You deserve to be treated with respect and care." She exhaled quietly. "Can I ask how you're used to being treated?" She rushed to explain. "It's not really my business – and I don't want to open old wounds, but if I knew, it would help me ensure I don’t inadvertently make you feel that way again."

You sighed wearily, blinking back new tears. "Well, I guess they're clearly not old wounds since they flared up again so easily." You pulled your hands back and brought them up to your temples. "I'm so sorry. This is such garbage that you're having to deal with this. I thought I was better."

"Baby," she coaxed gently, placing her hands on your legs and leaning in slightly, hoping to catch your eye. "Please do not apologize. Your feelings are totally valid. And we all have our pasts, and we each have unique hurt and pain from our experiences. And some things are not easy to heal, and I think it's fair to say that in some cases, some things never do fully heal. But, I'm here to help you navigate anything you may be going through as best as possible. I'm here to care for you, not hinder you."

You dug your fingers into your face briefly before dropping them to your lap with a breath that was half sigh, half laugh. You looked at Jessie, taking in her soft brown eyes that searched yours with compassion and sincerity. How did she choose you?

"Oh my gosh." You sniffled. "No one's ever said anything like that to me. Certainly not my ex."

Quiet realization dawned on Jessie's face before she settled back in, remaining focused on you. She waited wordlessly for you to go on. You scratched the back of your head briefly, eyes trained on the floor before you forced yourself to look up at her.

"Remember how I said things with my ex were rocky at times? Well. That was putting it lightly, really." You took a breath. "She could be so affectionate and loving one moment – like I was the center of her universe, and then cold and cutting the next, like I was some burden she had the unfortunate task of dealing with. And she never meant what she actually said – I always had to read between the lines. She'd tell me things are fine, but," you laughed ruefully, "they were not. She'd be withholding, and curt, making passive aggressive remarks. But anytime I tried to address things or call her out, she would insist that it was just me and everything was fine.

"That is, until we'd inevitably have a blow out of some kind, and she'd make it very clear that it was always my fault. That I was being difficult and if she was being cold or mean, it was to protect herself and it was my fault for making her feel or act that way. "

Jessie let out a brief laugh of disbelief, looking at you in mild shock. "Are you serious? That's-" She caught herself mid-sentence, exhaling momentarily before continuing. "That's unacceptable. So she gaslit you and made you feel crazy."

"All the time."

Jessie sat back briefly, slapping a hand on her thigh as she shook her head. "Wow. That's so horrible." She leaned back in and grabbed your hands. "I'm so, so sorry you had to go through that. None of that sounds fair or right. That would've been so hard to navigate." You wiped at a stray tear and let out a short, bitter laugh.

"It wasn't fun. And as you can see, it's royally messed me up." Your lip trembled. "And now you're dealing with the fallout. It's not fair to you."

"Y/N." She said your name tenderly and gave you a reassuring smile. "There is no 'dealing' here – I...I really care for you. And I want you to know that you're safe. I want you to be open and honest with me anytime something bothers you or hurts you. I want to build you up and make sure you see yourself the way I see you."

"See?" You asked, giving her a look. "I’m having a hard time reconciling these two experiences. Realities."

Jessie sighed softly and nodded. "I can understand that. I can only imagine how hard it would be to be with someone who is supposed to care for you and have your best interests in mind, but they're unpredictable or inconsistent in their feelings and actions. It would be hard to adjust after being in a relationship where your partner shows up differently depending on the day. Or uses their affection as a weapon or a bartering tool." She sighed again and lifted your hand to kiss your knuckles before clasping your hand between hers. "I'm so sorry, babe. You didn't deserve any of that."

You shook out your shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. "Except I thought I did for so long. And – I don’t know – I'm scared, I guess. She treated me so well at the beginning. And then over time things changed. Sometimes it's hard to believe that I didn't cause it in some way."

Jessie gave you a frown of concern. "You didn't. I promise you that. Everyone is accountable for their own actions – you shouldn't take responsibility or blame for her behaviour. We can all get frustrated or upset with other people – it's inevitable, but that doesn't give someone the right to mistreat anyone else." She frowned further, her tone now lowering slightly. "And she's an adult – she should be able to express her wants or needs without playing mind games with you."

You looked at Jessie, your eyes glistening with tears. You shook your head.

"Why are you being so good to me?" You looked away, frowning as your own frustration bubbled up once more. "I'm not even mad about it these days. Because I can't change the past, and I learned a lot about myself, what I want, and what I won't put up with anymore. But the worst part is that despite how much work I've done and how far I've come – you're sitting here, being incredible, saying and doing everything I ever dreamed of and all I can think is how long is it going to last until you change." You went on adamantly. "I know you're not her. At all. But, I've been burned before by someone who claimed to care. And apparently I can't seem to get over it."

Rightfully or not, you expected Jessie to get frustrated with you or even insulted by what you said. Instead, she studied you quietly and eventually her expression softened even further and she gave you a faint smile.

"You're right. I'm not her. And I hope I never meet her, because it breaks my heart to know that she hurt you so deeply. I really hope you know, or will know, that someone who loves you doesn't treat you the way she did."

She took a small breath, readjusting her position in her chair and grabbing both of your hands again. She stared down at them and started to speak.

"There's been something that I've wanted to tell you, but I haven't known when the right time would be."

She looked to you with a soft smile.

"I know someone who loves you doesn't treat you the way she did – I know that for sure - because I love you." She let the declaration hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "I love you. I have for a while now. Each day I wake up missing you if you're not next to me, and when I think of you I think of all the ways I want to love you – show you I love you. I want to make your life even better than it is today and do that for the rest of my life.

"Today, even with just the thought that I'd hurt you or upset you, I wanted to see what was wrong, what I did and how I could fix it so we can move forward together. I wanted to know how I could make you feel better. And then learning that you maybe didn't feel safe – I 100% wanted to reassure you that you should always feel safe and comfortable to feel your emotions and express yourself. I would never want you to have to edit yourself or hide.

"And I don't expect you to just 'get over' things. You are free to feel the way you feel, even if it means you can't fully trust that I'm being honest when I say these things. I hope you don't have to question these things forever, but I need you to know that I will always reassure you. And maybe even more importantly, that my actions will reflect my words."

She gave a light shrug and continued, her voice now playful. "And if you didn't notice, I'm a very patient and tenacious person, and it just so happens I'm very set on loving you for as long as you'll let me."

By the time Jessie finished speaking your lip was fully trembling and the tears were you fighting back were rolling down your cheeks. She was watching you calmly, waiting, and you covered your face with your hands. Your shoulders shook with a couple of soft sobs as you absorbed everything she just said.

She rest her hands lightly on your legs and idly caressed your knee with her thumb while she waited.

"Please don't hide," she coaxed gently. "Take your time, but you don't need to hide." A few moments passed and she added with a chuckle. "And I'm hoping those are good tears."

You laughed through your tears and lowered your hands to give her a watery smile.

"Of course they are," you told her, your voice thick with emotion. She cracked a smirk, sitting there so relaxed. You smiled further. Even if it didn't seem like it in the moment, being around Jessie always had a way of calming you and making you feel grounded. You launched forward and pulled her into a tight hug, which she readily returned with a soft laugh. She turned her head towards you to kiss the side of your head.

"I love you, too," you whispered as you gave her a squeeze and she clutched you tighter. She pulled back enough to look at you and this time she had tears in her eyes as well.

"You mean it?" She asked with a crooked and hopeful grin. You gave her a little disbelieving frown as you laughed.

"Of course I do. Jessie, how could I not love you? You're everything I could ever want," you assured her. She leaned in and gave you a soft kiss.

"I just want you to know that even though I said it, it doesn't mean you need to. If you aren't quite there yet, that's completely okay. I'm not leaving until you tell me to."

You rolled your eyes in ongoing disbelief and gave a light shake of your head. "You can't be real." She scrunched up her face at you playfully and you leaned in, holding her face in your hands as you kissed her slow. "And for the record, I am very much in love with you."

When you pulled out of the kiss, Jessie was beaming.

"Then I'm a very lucky woman," she said decisively.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso #canwnt #jflem #woso imagine #canwnt x reader #portland thorns

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agent-cupcake · 3 days

Text

Ulterior Motives

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f! student Reader

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

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

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

Word Count: 24.4k

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

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

“Is this seat taken?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something like that.”

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

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

“Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that why you warn people?”

You shrugged.

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

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

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

“You didn’t ask me a question.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged. “It does sound pretty ridiculous.”

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

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

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

“How so?”

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have the address?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever been wrong?”

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

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

You smiled. “Yes.”

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

“What?”

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

“You’re joking.”

“Not at all.”

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

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

“I’m going to study business.”

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

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

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

“What kind of job?”

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

“You’re not exactly selling this.”

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

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

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

“Scary?” Gojo repeated.

“You are, aren’t you? I can feel it.”

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

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

“Aura?”

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

Before you could respond, his phone rang.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Most likely.

Absolutely.

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

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

“It is.”

“-then I’ll consider it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then don’t ask him out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did something happen?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s Oyama?”

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

“You’re leaving?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Four?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what did you learn?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have to ask?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled, but didn’t laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t let it get to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Show me what?” you asked, frowning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were not prepared.

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

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

Just like that, it was over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Back and forth and back and forth and-

“Hello?” Haruka snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well then, shall we?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

“Athletic wear that isn’t hideous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t be serious.

“Us?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

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

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

“No, it can’t. Come on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to impress everyone,” you said.

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

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

“Really? He was very protective of you.”

You shrugged, not really interested in that particular topic.

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

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

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

“What?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing.

“Come on, do it,” he insisted.

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

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

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

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

“So… there’s no job?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that it?” you asked. “Really?”

“What else?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s my teacher,” you repeated.

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

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

“No, he’s not single?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why would I do that?”

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

“You can’t date my teacher.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? What is it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t be your teacher forever.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

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

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

“Aren’t you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you couldn’t.

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

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

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

“No, I was going to go out.”

“It’s for a boy, then. I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you going?” Oyama asked.

“It’s not your business.”

“Is it an emergency?”

“No. I’m-”

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

And then it was:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wouldn’t call it fun, it’s work.”

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

An awkward silence followed your comment.

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

“I’m not mad.”

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

“I’m not grumpy.”

“So why are you pouting then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am,” you said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

“Um. Yeah, I think we could do that.”

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

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

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

“What?” you asked, blinking fast.

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

Kaoru frowned down at her.

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

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

“No, it’s not.”

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

“That’s not it,” you insisted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“Good morning!” Gojo enthused.

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

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

“What?” you asked, baffled beyond comprehension.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bye,” you said, forcing a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hurry for what?”

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

“You’re kidding.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it any good?”

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

“I don’t mind.”

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

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

“I’m fine.”

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

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

“Are you dissatisfied?” Gojo asked suddenly.

“What?”

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

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

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

“Oyama doesn’t have the same restrictions.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine.”

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have bad dreams,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who said I dream of anything?’

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you feel?” she asked.

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

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

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

“He has a few bruises, nothing major.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it,” you said. “Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not especially.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The underlying issue?” you repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was your suggestion.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know you won’t hurt me.”

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

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

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

“Gojo, why are you-”

“Three.”

“Nnn-no, wait, I-”

“Two.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How many, do you think?” he asked.

No.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You kept your eyes shut, shaking your head fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowned, put out with your response.

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

“Stop!” you yelled, your voice shrill.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah—fff-take it out!” you squealed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #not sfw #tw. noncon #my writing #EVERYONE KNOWS IT

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kenntolog · 3 days

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𝝑𝝔 an: i have so much to learn yet im writing fics bruhhhhh anyways enjoy!! masterlist.

the question that nanami hates with his whole being is 'how was your date?' and it's not because he basically has no personal life or people keep asking him that. the reason why nanami hates that question is the fact that he has to ask you that question every time you come back from a date.

if it was a date with him, he’d never ask a question like that because he’d make sure to take you to the best dates ever. but unfortunately for him, it’s another one of your idiotic first dates with stupid assholes who don’t know they’ve found gold with you.

so he asks again this evening, opening the front door, “how was your date?”

you give him a tired glare and the corners of his lips quirk up in a teasing smirk, letting you into his house with a nudge of his chin.

“horrible.” you fall face first onto the soft cushions of his couch, letting out a muffled whine before you lift your head up, “it was horrible, kento.”

yeah, he knew that. it was obvious from the way you gushed about the guy being so sweet to you and how you thought that this could work out, and while nanami reluctantly supports your decisions to meet with these unworthy men, he never expects anything good to come out of your dates with them. neither does he want that to happen, if he’s being completely honest.

he sits down on the couch and you immediately crawl higher to rest your head in his lap, his hands starting to caress your face and hair with practiced motions, fingers gently gliding along your features to relax you. kento doubts that you can sense the ugly head of jealousy rearing from inside him every time you talk about a new guy and a new date.

he sometimes even feels himself getting angry at you, for being the smartest and the dumbest person he knows, ready to scold you for being so ignorant to his feelings. he calls himself your friend and you call him your best friend; but do best friend live in hopes of confessing for years? he has no idea(he knows the answer is no).

but the anger towards you dissipates as soon as you start sniffling pitifully in his arms, because he can’t stand the sight of you crying, his heart aching along with yours.

“is it so hard to just be nice and maybe try to love me?”

his heart cracks into million pieces.

nanami loves you so dearly it hurts. you have so much love to give, sharing it with anyone and everyone you meet, wearing your heart on your sleeve and smiling with the innocence of a baby. not even realising that he can love you better than anyone ever will, ready to kiss you and hold you endlessly through hard times. he loves you so much he is ready to watch you be with someone else, as long as you’re happy.

that’s not okay, but nanami is a coward when it comes to confronting his feelings. so he stays like this and tells himself that if next time your date goes wrong and it doesn’t work out, he will for sure confess everything and promise to you that he can love you better. next time comes always but his feelings don’t stop weighing on him like a burden.

it’s okay. he’ll try next time—

#— miya writes!#im sorry if this is too angsty #i love nanami angst #also unrequited feelings #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #man i love nanami kento #kento nanami x you #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento #nanami angst #kento nanami

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wosoluver · 1 day

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Celebration

Pina x reader, Barça femeni x reader

<< this last game, Clau wasn't able to score, but you helped her chill and celebrate the league's win >>

You could see the frustration plastered onto her face. Not once, not twice, but over five shots. None of them would hit the back of the net.

First being taken down in the penalty box, on a very promising chance, making sure we got a penalty.

Frido hit it perfectly, placing it right in the goal. Making it 1-4.

At 85' Clau kicked the ball, but it went straight into the Granada goalkeeper's hands.

Then Brugts made an amazing cross, but she missed it, by so little. Someone was able to get a rebound, and still, it just wouldn't go in.

Next Hansen passed her the ball, but she had fallen down after another player had harshly pushed her.

At the stoppage time, she dribbled well, but the ball was deflected, now getting a chance from a corner. But nothing. Like every play after that.

You were already winning the game.

But Claudia felt an extreme need to prove herself. Even knowing she was one of the best in the team, and definitely the future of Barça.

And you weren't saying this just because she's your girlfriend. Everyone saw it too.

When the final whistle blew, instead of instantly celebrating, she sat on the grass with her hands on her head.

You ran from the bench straight to her.

"Amor you did amazing. Don't be so hard on yourself." you kneeled down in between her legs.

"I missed all my fucking chances!"

"You did everything in your reach. They did some good defending. And overall, the rest of the team could have done better too. Esmee and Bruna also made some mistakes."

"I know, I just can't believe I couldn't do anything."

"You almost scored the first pass you got after entering the game!

But I know no matter how much I try, I won't convince you, so.

How about we celebrate our league title tonight, your amazing 12 goals this season and when we are back home we can work on your finishes and do some practice?"

"Deal." she said giving you a small smile. That didn't quite reach her eyes. But you were determined to change that.

You pulled her up and instantly jumped on her back.

"VAMOOOS! CAMPEONES!" you screamed from the top of your lungs.

You got down to hug the other girls, getting ready to take the celebration picture, sitting on the ground in between Vicky and Ona.

You went in to the bathroom, needing to pee, but when coming out of the stall, you were sprayed in the face by Patri and Lucy, who were jumping around euphoric.

"Goddamn! It stings!" you yelled while being pulled in by the girls.

"Amor, close your eyes." she asked you, while using her shirt to clean your eyes. "There."

"Thank you."

You proceeded to jump around in a mosh pit, along with your friends. Then Patri had the brilliant idea to go around the hallway dancing and singing. She held the speaker in one hand and the phone on the other, as everyone trailed behind her, you held onto your girlfriend.

"IZQUIERDA, DERECHA, IZQUIERDA, DERECHA, AYE VAMOS!"

And while the team was somewhat distracted, you pulled Clau back into the locker room.

You both did the best you could to keep professional during work. But today felt okay to let go.

"Another one! Together." you said grabbing two tiny bottles of champagne, handling her one. "Cheers."

"Cheers mi amor!" she pulled you in for a kiss. "I love you."

"Y yo a ti." with your hands around her neck, kissing once again.

But you were rudely interrupted.

"Oye!" said Ona walking in with Lucy.

"Oh don't start! What were you two walking in here for? Together?" you teased them.

"Yeah, the party is outside. Unless you were here for the same as us." your girlfriend joined you, while wiggling her brows.

"What? No!" they said at the same time, nervously.

"Come on! We already know!" laughter erupted in the room as everyone walked back in.

The next thing you knew, Cata was slip' n sliding in beer. Claudia joining her, and you knew this wouldn't end well.

As you turned to talk to Patri, you felt yourself being taken down. Your girlfriend had basically stricked you down like a bowling pin. And ended up under you.

"CLAUDIA!" you yelled out, as a drunk Cata, could only laugh, looking at the whole situation.

As Salma filmed everything, and the girls cheered on.

"Fuck! My hand!" you whispered.

"I'm so sorry!" she said helping you up. "Are you okay?"

"No, I think I might have broken my hand."

At the start of the night you all knew, you were in for some partying, but not that everyone would take the flight next day with an insane hangover, Cata still wasted, and you with a cast on your hand.

I know some of you expected some smut, and it's not. But I can confidently say there is a Pina smut coming! 🩷

#woso x reader #claudia pina #claudia pina x reader #fc barcelona femeni

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drs-fan · 1 day

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LN4 | FWB

hiya um i wanted to try writing a go so here's my first fic bc i want to celebrate Lando's first win

love it hate it idk but hope u enjoy

warnings: angst, alludes to sexual activity (no actual smut), not proofread, some swearing, [name] used

word count: 2k

They were introduced by a mutual friend at a party.

“Hey,” he said, half tipsy, as your friend introduced you, “Nice shoes.”

“Thanks. They’re new.”

“Ah.”

Silence. Your friend had gone off, leaving you two alone to ‘mingle.’

“Um so…”

“Yeah…”

“Hi.”

You both burst into embarrassed laughter.

“I have no idea why she thought this was a good idea, but nice to meet you.” You put out a hand for him to shake. He shook it. His hands were warm and large.

“I mean, you’re pretty cute.” He still hadn’t let go of your hand. It fit nicely in his, he thought, lost in your glittering eyes which crinkled at the corners as you smiled.

“Generally, I think, if you think a girl looks nice, you’d say like ‘you’re beautiful’ but I guess I’ll take ‘pretty cute.’”

“I didn’t mean – I mean, you’re very nice looking.” He let go and rubs vigorously at the back of his neck, flustered.

You laugh, leaning into him. He smelled nice. “Thanks. You’re getting better at it. You look nice too.”

Leaning against the bar, he asks, “So, do you live in Monaco?”

He looked better than nice. He was hot. “Yeah, I work here and there, but now it’s Monaco.”

“You like it here?”

“Hmm. It’s fun, but a bit small. You keep running into people you’d rather not meet.”

He chuckles, “I get that. It’s hard getting around unnoticed.”

You roll your eyes, “That’s most likely because you’re famous – and you drive that Jolly.”

“I sold that Jolly, it broke my heart, but I don’t drive it anymore.”

“Why not? I love the Jolly – it’s so cute.”

He shakes his head, taking a sip of his drink. “It’s not quite the lady killer, is it?”

“It would kill me – if someone came up to me and offered a ride in their jolly, I’d –“ you click your tongue, bending your knees and pointing at the floor. “No question.”

He spit out his drink as he laughed, making you laugh as well. Both of your loud laughter makes people look over. “You would?”

“Oh definitely. That Jolly is hot.”

“What about for the Lamborghini?” He steps closer, hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Hm. What Lambo?”

“The Miura.”

“Ooh, hot. But depends – who’s driving it?” You smirk, not avoiding his eyes.

“You, if you’d like.”

Your hands travel along his arms, and you hear his breath hitch as you say, “I’m holding you on that promise, Norris.”

“No problem.” He smirks back.

“For the time being, dance with me?” You drag him by the hand to the dance floor, fingers intwined with yours.

For the next half hour, his hands travel up and down waist and hips as you sway to the beat, while yours are interlocked behind his neck. He looks gorgeous with his curly hair bouncing around. You run your hands through your hair, making him close his eyes leaning into your touch. Lando pulls you in, grip tightening around your waist and says into your ear, “Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

Even though his apartment was littered with your makeup, your clothes, and your favorite snacks, you two hadn’t yet put a label on it. ‘We should take it slow,’ he said, ‘Don’t rush things yet.’ You agreed, though halfheartedly. It wasn’t your style, having a casual relationship.

After every race overseas, your feed would be full of photos of Lando with his hand too low on another girl’s back. Of him dancing with pretty girls with better bodies, better outfits, all while you were lying in his bed, in his shirt, wrapped in his sheets that no longer smelled like him.

Often it would be:

“Who were you with?”

“No one, just some people I met.”

Or “Who was the girl? You seemed friendly.” “Just a friend.”

He was delightful when he came home, acting like he was your boyfriend – buying you the coffee you liked or cuddling up to binge watch Netflix – but he refused to be seen in public together.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he would say with a pout, “The fans, they’re too much sometimes.”

They could barely go out together, with you leaving his apartment 30 minutes before he did or vice versa. Public events were a definite no-go and even your work events you had to go alone. He also decidedly avoided the topic of you coming to watch the races.

“Are you embarrassed of me?” You asked, sitting up on his bed, as he once again refused to bring you to a race, almost 10 months after that first night.

“No, baby, but I –“

“Stop calling me baby, because I’m apparently not your baby.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what, Lando? Do what?”

“Try to make me feel bad. It’s our decision to make, not just yours.”

“If it’s our decision to make, why do you always get to decide?”

“I told you – I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Yes, that and you don’t think I’m good enough to keep around. Noted, Lando.” You jump out of the bed, throwing on your clothes, and walk out the door.

It was your birthday. You were sitting at a small restaurant, sipping red wine while watching the sun go down over the horizon. He promised he would make it. It would have been a big deal to finally be going out in public together, but it’s now 7:48. 48 minutes and counting.

You could sense the stares of the waiters, once full of pity but now impatient, waiting for the poor girl to leave so they could serve the table. 50 minutes. At the hour mark, you sighed and got up, paid for the wine, and left. The walk back to your apartment was long, and your heels were digging into your skin. Your skirt kept riding up and rain started to pelt down on your skin, washing away your teartracks. You look up to the sky and laugh out loud, throwing up your arms, “All this for what?” Shaking your head.

He came knocking at your door at 11PM that night.

“Hey, Lando.”

“Hey, look, I’m so sorry. Something came up, I thought it wouldn’t take long, but they held me up like an hour, then I had to –“

“Yeah, let’s not do this again. I’m tired, let’s talk tomorrow.”

“Look, [name]. I’m sorry.”

“I know. You were sorry when you couldn’t make it to my work event. You were sorry when you had to cancel on meeting my sister, You were sorry when you couldn’t invite me to any of your races. I’m sick of your sorry. Go away, Lando. Please.”

“I missed you. I came as fast as I could.”

“Well, not fast enough. Today was my birthday, Lan.” Your voice broke, and you looked away. “You couldn’t make time for my fucking birthday.”

“I’m so sorry, babe, please.”

“I’m tired,” You shake your head. “Tired of all this, being your dirty secret. I loved you, but this is too hard.”

“I love you, [name].” He grabs your hand as you try to close the door. “I love you.”

“Don’t lie.” Your voice falls flat. “You love having someone to come back to, you don’t love me. You can find another me.”

You push him away and close the door, bolting it. You can hear him still, his apologies muffled by the door.

You came down with a bad cold that day. Unable to get up, you stayed in bed until the fever passed through. Delirious, you thought you heard Lando’s voice calling outside. You slipped in and out of your dreams and your pillow was drenched with cold sweat and tears. Next morning, feeling a bit better, you opened the door and was greeted by a thump as a body hit the floor, hard.

“What the fuck?”

The body jolted upright. “Good morning.” It was Lando, looking disoriented and dishevled, blinking up at you.

“Oh god, I thought you were dead. What are you doing h-” Your sentence was cut off by a coughing fit.

“Are you okay?”

“No. I’m not. I need to get some food and pills – I ran out of ibuprofen.”

“Wh- are you sick?” “Yes, Lando. I was stood up by my date, so I had to walk home alone, in the rain, in my heels. Please move.”

“I’m so sorry.” Were those tears? “I’ll go get the food and meds and stuff. Please stay here.”

It was too good of a deal to argue. “Fine.”

He came back hands full of bags. “Here’s your ibuprofen. This is for your coughing, this one’s for the fever. This one just in case your stomach doesn’t feel well. They said it might be a problem. I don’t know so I just said I’d take it.” He sifts through the other bag. “Here’s the soup you like from the Chinese place down the street. If you don’t feel like soup, I also have porridge. You take your pick, but you need to eat something.” He shakes the third bag. “This is like, snacks and stuff. I also have chocolate and stuff but I’m not sure if you should be eating that right now. You need water.”

He leaves to get water from the kitchen, leaving you bewildered and surrounded by medication, food, drinks, and snacks. He comes back, with a wet towel and a cup of water. “I can feel the heat radiating from you. Come here.” He dabs at your neck and arms with the ice-cold cloth, making you wince and shift away. “Baby, you’re going to burn up again if I don’t do this. You eat up.”

You stiffen slightly at the nickname but let it pass, taking your first bite of soup. You’re both silent as you eat, and he continues to fret over you like a mother hen.

“I’m fine, Lando, please just sit down.”

He sits, still fidgeting with your blankets.

“I’m sorry, [name].”

You sigh. “I know you are. Don’t you have work to do, Lando?” It wasn’t unkind, but the bite in your voice made him flinch.

“You’re more important than work, baby.”

“I wish you would have made that decision 6 months ago. I’m sorry too Lando, but I don’t think we’re going to work. Thank you for all this though. I’ll take it as your last apology.” You smile weakly, “It’s not going to mend the bridge. This was your choice, you wanted us to be no more than fuckbuddies.” He winces again at your crass words. “It’s true, and you know it.”

He looks down at his hands, “I know. I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair – and I’m not ashamed of you, you know that right?” He looks at you, and you stare back, eyes brimming. “You’re an amazing person. I don’t deserve you.” He wipes away the single tear rolling down your face. “I’m going to miss you.” He twiddles his thumbs uneasily. “Would it be okay if I stayed today? Just for today. You’re sick and I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“Okay. Just for today.” You give in, savoring his scent for the very last time.

After washing up, you snuggle into your bed together.

“Did you stay here yesterday as well? I thought I heard your voice.”

“Kind of. Between eating and sleeping. I was worried.”

“You’re a creep.”

“Hey, I was concered.”

“That’s stalking, that is.” You smile, and he smiles back, reaching over and pulling you tight into his chest and kissing you on the top of your head.

“You’re going to catch a cold – you need to race this weekend.” Your voice comes out muffled.

“I wish you could come with me.”

“Well, I can’t, Lan.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

You’re lulled to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat. When you wake up the next day, the only thing left of him is his hoodie he was wearing, hugged tightly to your chest.

a/n: im new idk how to do this

#f1 imagine #lando x reader #ln4 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one imagines #formula 1 fic #first fic #lando norris angst

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gilbirda · 15 hours

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I'm just a simple guard, man

Part 6 of my Danny is an Arkham Security Guard AU (og tumblr post)

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

<< Prequel - Clown around and find out | First Part

There was silence and tension as they watched Batman go through the motions, tying up the unmoving but awake Joker and moving him to somewhere closer to the entrance. Joker was surprisingly responsive and lucid, just mellowed and obedient. Somehow it made it better — if he was a vegetable Jason knew Batman wouldn’t let that go until Danny undid what he had done.

Danny.

The Ghost King.

Jason didn’t know exactly what that meant. Heck, until today he didn’t know that ghosts were kind of a thing. Mythical creatures, he could buy. Apparitions, imprints of conscience that were unavenged — that he could buy too. But a Ghost King implied an organized society with status and a legal organization. A power structure.

“Oh yeah, forgot to mention that.”

He turned towards the doctor well aware his face showed every emotion.

“The fuck?”

“Did that really happen?” Duke was trying to keep calm, but his eyes were wide open and his hands slightly trembling.

“Yeah?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“But—”

“How the heck—”

“ — how did he do that —”

“ — did he set him on fire!”

“ — and is he even human?”

“Children,” Alfred stood from his seat, positioning himself between the brothers and their guest. “Let her breathe.”

“It’s okay, Mr. — uh…” She blushed as she realized she never asked for his name.

“Alfred,” the butler smiled, “Alfred Pennyworth.”

“Mr. Pennyworth,” she nodded politely. “I’m fine. I am aware that after that… theatrical spectacle, explanations are needed.”

“Indeed.” Batman cut in the conversation. “Proper explanations are in order. After I deliver the Joker to Arkham.”

“You can’t be serious!” Did the old man go crazy? Back to that place?

Jazz frowned, seemingly sharing his thoughts. She leaned closer to the microphone and spoke in a controlled voice. “Where are you delivering him? In the hospital.”

Bruce took way too long to answer, so Tim did it for him. “Through the front door?”

Jazz didn’t find it funny. “Wait for me.”

“What?”

“I said, wait for me.” Jazz reached for her discarded jacket, eyeing the door to the elevator back to the manor. “Joker is my patient and I need to be there.”

“What for?”

She turned to look at Jason. “He doesn’t deserve to be left at the mercy of some of the people in the Asylum. They could—”

“He can rot for all I care.”

The vigilante walked up to her, getting in her way and using his height and build to scare her into submission. Jazz held his gaze, defiant, muscles tense and ready to throw down if needed.

“You don’t know that place like I do.”

Jason huffed. “Whatever the inmates want to do to him, he deserves it.”

“I wasn’t talking about the inmates.” Her teal eyes steeled with fury. “Arkham has a history of staff abusing their authority.”

Duke glanced at Alfred, unsure what to make of that statement. He quietly stood up, getting ready to intervene in case Jason decided to get violent; but Alfred held him back with a gloved hand on his shoulder.

“Again, he deserves it.”

Tired of craning her neck to look up at him, Jazz stepped back. “He deserves the judgment of the people he’d hurt in the past — something my brother and I can promise you will happen.” Given what they saw in the camera feeds, nobody doubted the siblings could ensure it. “But I’m not going to tolerate that my patient spends his last years alive being unnecessarily abused.”

“I told you—”

“What do you think,” she interrupted Jason, her gaze cold and her body tense, “will happen if someone dies full of rage? If in their last moments they wish they could enact vengeance on those that harmed them?” She narrowed her eyes, knowing her words were hitting something in him. “What do you think will happen to the Joker’s soul if he’s abused and tortured at Arkham, and probably killed, after he crosses the Veil?”

“I—”

“A huge pain in the ass, it’s what will happen.”

The tense silence could be cut with a knife. Duke couldn’t understand how Jazz not only managed to stare down the six foot something tank that Jason was, but she also commanded the attention and respect. He was a newcomer to the place and he had done more than enough crazy stuff during his time in a gang; but he still struggled with openly challenging Jason and Cass. And Tim, but that was when the vigilante fell into his weird mumbling-in-the-dark episodes.

“I’m taking you there.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the garage section of the cave. Jazz yanked her arm free and stopped to cross her arms.

“I can walk on my own.”

Jason bristled, opened his mouth to continue their fight, but apparently that was when Alfred had enough.

“If you want to get there in time,” his voice was neutral, controlled, and his face wore his signature arched eyebrow, “I'd recommend leaving right now.”

His tone was final.

Jazz and Jason looked at each other, frozen under the certified Alfred glare. They nodded and walked quickly towards where Jason’s signature red bike was parked.

***

Arkham Asylum was a mess when the duo arrived — police cars flooded the entrance, and the Batmobile stood out like a sore thumb in the midst of all the red and blue lights flashing around.

Jazz cursed under her breath. She would have preferred to not turn the situation into a circus.

They managed to walk through the sea of cops and civilians looking in the compound from the metal gates. Funny enough, the few guards blocking the way didn’t move to stop them once both glared at them at the same time.

Jazz made a beeline at the Director chatting animatedly with Batman. Black Bat was standing a bit back with Red Robin, probably discussing what just happened with Danny, but the Arkham doctor didn’t care about them.

“I demand I see my patient.” Jazz didn’t beat around the bush.

The Director blinked and slowly looked away from Batman, as if he couldn’t believe someone had the audacity to interrupt this moment. “Miss Fenton—”

“Doctor.” She corrected him.

The man cleared his throat, throwing a nervous glance at the silent Dark Knight.

“Doctor Fenton,” the word was spit like it was a curse, “your shift doesn’t start until eight.”

“But the Joker is my patient and I know he’s in there.” She gestured at the looming Asylum with her hand. “After such a traumatic event I need to see him.”

Someone coughed a laugh behind the Director. At least the man had the decency of hiding a smile.

“The Joker is not going anywhere, Miss— Doctor.” He added when she glared at him. “You can schedule a session tomorrow. That is, if your patient is up for conversation.” With that, the man deemed their conversation over and turned back to Batman. “Once again, thank you so much, Batman. I’m not going to ask how you did it this time, but we will certainly appreciate the results.”

Jason was as happy as everyone else that Joker wouldn’t be a problem anymore, but the way this bastard was treating Jasmine was outright criminal. He squared up for a fight and tried to step forward, but a cold hand on his forearm stopped him. Jazz moved her eyebrows up and her eyes went over his body before she looked back towards the police. Several new vehicles joined the party — all the Gotham news channels were here to record the event.

And he wasn’t wearing his suit. Right.

He nodded and remained where he was, but made a gesture towards where the Director was waxing poetry about how good Batman was for their city and how much the city owed him.

Do you want me to beat him up for you? He wanted to ask.

Jazz chuckled, hiding her smile behind her hand. She shook her head and patted his arm a few times.

“Thanks,” she whispered, “but not today.”

He didn’t know how serious she was. This was the same person who pulled a gun at Red Hood and five seconds later forced him into a therapy session. The same lunatic that was excited about having the whole bat flock in her apartment so she could question them.

For the first time since the alarm sounded about Joker’s escape, Jason let himself relax a little bit. Jazz was crazy enough to take on Arkham’s finest and leave victorious.

“Director Kallwick,” her voice was pure steel, “I’m afraid it’s imperative I see my patient after such a traumatic—”

“I think there’s something you are not understanding, Miss Fenton.”

“And what is it?” She crossed her arms.

The Director raised an eyebrow, now fully facing her. It didn’t escape Jason how the man squared his shoulders to look bigger and overpower Jazz. He had seen that behavior way too many times, in many different situations — and he didn’t like it when men like the Director used it against people that couldn't fight back, specially women.

He glanced at Bruce, trying to gauge how much the old man would flip if he intervened anyway. He trusted Jazz, but he really didn’t like the Director right now.

“I’m positive that after today’s… development,” he smiled, “things at Arkham will definitely change. For the best, of course.” He raised an eyebrow. “Starting with streamlining our staff and making sure we count on experienced doctors to treat the patients that really need it.”

Was he implying…?

Jazz hummed, regarding the man with as much contempt as she allowed herself to show. “I know you don’t like me, Mr. Kallwick. You never did. I know you hired me because you needed cannon fodder to sacrifice and keep the Joker entertained.” She smiled. “I’m young, but I’m not stupid. And I know men like you — weak, scared, and cowardly.”

“Hey there young—”

“I know you’d rather let your staff die than develop better and healthier outlets for patient’s destructive tendencies.” She lifted a hand and walked closer, poking the man’s chest. “I know that you look the other way when guards and doctors mentally and physically abuse inmates because you actually think they deserve it.” She poked him again.

“I don’t—” He went to grab her hand.

She moved away from him so quickly and so smoothly that it looked like a dance step.

She smiled. It wasn’t nice. “And I know all about what you’ve been doing with the funds and donations.”

Even in the middle of the noise from the crowd at the gates, you could hear the man loudly swallow.

“I know about the embezzling and the bribes and the interesting filing mistakes and convenient registration mishaps, Mr. Kallwick.” Her eyes slowly turned greener. It was subtle, but you could see that her usual teal color suddenly looked greener than blue. A trick of the lights, you could think, but the bats knew better. “I know you don’t care how or why the Joker is unresponsive, but I do; and if you want me to stay in my lane I highly recommend you stay in yours.”

The man processed her words, the thoughts clear in his eyes. He was probably thinking how she could have found out, or who told her, or how was he going to silence her better.

Jason saw the switch to the later thought as clear as day.

Bruce saw it too.

Before the man said or did anything else, the tall and quiet shadow of Batman placed himself behind Jazz, one hand on her shoulder as an obvious sign of his support. The other two bats placed themselves on the sides of the Arkham doctor, arms crossed, looking down at the man who was realizing too late the mistake he made.

***

“Are you still mad?”

“Hm.”

“You sound like the old man.”

Jazz glared at him, violently stabbing her ice cream cup and breaking her plastic spoon.

“You may need to deal with those anger issues. Have you thought about going to therapy?” He said with a bright smile.

She stood up, not caring about attracting attention. Who was going to pay attention to them, Jason didn’t know. It was way early in the morning — or late at night, it depends on how you see it — and Jazz had demanded they go to the closest ice cream place that was open.

Luckily he knew a place, because of course only in Gotham someone would be crazy enough to have an ice cream shop open at this hour.

“Some vigilantes, and some rogues, really like ice cream. It is an untapped market.” The man running the place said when asked, shrugging like it was obvious.

Jazz sat back down, now with a new spoon, and continued eating her sweet monstrosity of layered chocolate and dulce de leche.

“If you are this mad I highly recommend you take it with Bruce. I’m sure he will be very understanding and accept your feedback.”

She kicked him in the shins, rolling her eyes at his sarcasm.

“Whatever you say, mister Daddy Issues.”

It was his turn to kick her, but she was expecting the movement and moved away before he made contact. She smirked, taking another bite of her ice cream with a smug smile on her face.

God, he hated older siblings and their knowing smiles.

He prepared to kick her again..

“Don’t even try,” a new voice said, the person taking the empty chair on their little table. “Jazz is like a ninja when she really wants to.”

Jason wanted to differ and explain he had trained with literal ninjas, but the speed at which she whipped a gun on him not that long ago came to his mind. Was it a liminal thing? Or a Jasmine thing? Maybe a Fenton thing?

“Hey.”

“Hey back at you.” Danny sighed, taking Jazz’s ice cream cup and biting directly from the top layer. “That bad, huh?”

Jason bit his simple chocolate cone, watching the siblings talk.

“She’s mad because B scary dog privileged his way into making the Arkham Director submit and it undermined Jazz’s authority. She did a neat speech and everything.” He shook his head. “All wasted.”

She huffed and stole her ice cream back. “I didn’t need his support.”

“I know you don’t.” Danny glanced at Jason. “But it’s better if you have Batman’s backup, yes?”

Jazz ignored him.

Jason took the chance to look at Danny, trying to find anything that was different about the young man. He still had the scene back with Joker burned in his mind.

King of the Ghosts.

He would have never guessed, given the scrawny and sleep deprived raccoon of a man sitting next to him. He was still wearing the same shirt and under the fluorescent lights of the ice cream shop, it was easier to see the scars on his arms and hands — and the ones peeking from under his collar.

“Spit it out.”

“Huh?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “You have questions. Ask.”

“I don’t—” He tried to deny it, but thought better about it. Jason bit his ice cream and cleared his throat. “I want to ask about —”

“Of course you want to ask about what happened.”

A soft thump! came from under the table, and given Danny’s glare at Jazz then she probably kicked him for the sass.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why are you being so forthcoming?”

“I’m feeling charitable today.” Another kick from under the table. “Ok, ok! No need for violence.” He sighed. “Jazz’s right. This is not my territory. If we want to stay, we have to play nice with you guys.”

The way he said it, and the way he made a face when he said it, told Jason that Danny was really struggling with trusting the bats with the information. Trust issues he could understand — one wasn’t in their line of work without being betrayed or hurt enough to warrant these issues.

No. It was something deeper.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

There were many questions burning in his mind and he didn’t know how long they had. “Why… Gotham? Why Arkham? Why a guard?”

“You just wasted your time man. You already know the answer for that.” He pointed at his sister, who nodded in agreement. “I followed her.”

“And I came here because I was interested in the rogues.” She added, licking her spoon clean.

Jason shook his head. “I meant — why is the King of the Ghosts… just… here?” He lowered his voice, glancing at the ice cream man. The man was half asleep on the counter and clearly not listening. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

Danny responded with a dry laugh. “I have no interest in being the king of anything.”

“But?”

He looked away, suddenly very uncomfortable.

Jason glanced at Jazz, but she was glaring at the table.

“What happened?” He poked the siblings, trying to be soft. It was obviously a touchy subject, and whatever happened was painful enough that they’ve been avoiding any mention of their past before Gotham like the plague.

“It was… It happened a few years ago. I defeated the previous Ghost King, but nothing happened for a while. I thought… I thought things had calmed down since ghosts stopped attacking my town so often. And then, after I graduated highschool, the Observants started harassing me about taking the throne.”

“Did they hurt you?” Jason didn’t know what these “Observants” were, but he could guess from context.

Danny shook his head, stealing Jazz’s ice cream again. “They were fucking annoying, but they couldn’t touch me. As the Prince, I was technically their superior and untouchable.” He bit the cold treat and chewed. Somehow Jason wasn’t surprised Danny never got a brain freeze. “It was a few more years of avoiding them and trying to keep peace in town, as well as trying to get to know the Infinite Realms.” He chuckled again. “I even considered, for a moment, that being King wasn’t even that bad.

“It was a pretty normal day when it happened. I went to the mall with my friends. Sam, she — She had a fight with her parents and went there to cool down and cheer her up. The ghosts came first,” he pushed the ice cream back to his sister, and avoided Jason’s eyes, “but nothing was out of the ordinary. We fought. I defeated them. More and more kept coming, faster than I — than we could contain them.”

“I was away at college, but I later learned that it was a massive all out attack on just Danny.” Jazz placed a hand on Danny’s. “It was a coup attempt.”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know that so many people were against me being King, and all that time they were planning the attack, and if I just paid a little more attention… If I wasn’t so—”

Another kick under the table. Danny cleared his throat and tried again.

“The GIW came as well. Things went from bad to worse, and by the end of the day it was an all out war between us, the ghosts doing a coup and the GIW. With our parents at the head of the attack.”

Jason frowned. “But you guys knew they worked with the GIW.”

Jazz gave him a warning look. “We knew they collaborated and consulted for them. We knew about the patent weapons.”

“But we didn’t know that they’d lead an attack on me.”

Danny did a brief pause to breathe, and stole more ice cream from his sister. She just pushed the cup towards him, apparently done with the treat.

Jason followed where the siblings were going. “They knew you’d be at the mall. That… That Phantom would be at the mall.” Danny looked up, his tired eyes confirming his thoughts. “They knew.”

It wasn’t a question.

Jazz nodded anyway. “We don’t know how long they did, but the truth is they knew about Danny. And went for him anyway.”

Minutes ticked by. Jason and Danny made quick work of their ice creams, lost in thought. Jazz checked her phone, frowned, and typed a few messages before putting it away.

“People died.”

Jason blinked at the non sequitur. Danny swallowed the last of the ice cream and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“Neighbors, friends, people I knew. That day. They were fine and then they were dead.”

Guilt. It was clear as day.

“Is not your—”

“Don’t.” He cut him off. “Please.”

Jason nodded and decided to move on. “So you won the fight?”

“Barely. The ghosts were either captured by the GIW or retreated when they became outnumbered. Tucker and Sam managed to mess up with the idiots in white’s machines and weapons long enough for us to retreat. But we knew that wasn’t the end of it.

“We packed what we could and I hid at Sam’s, with the excuse that I would help her while she recovered — she broke her arm at the fight. We were a hundred percent sure if… if Jack and Maddie actually knew I was Phantom or not, but just in case.”

“I stayed. They didn’t target me so we were positive they didn’t know about me being liminal, so I stayed home.”

The vigilante frowned at Jazz. “What for?”

“Someone had to monitor them to see what they knew exactly. I also hid away any weapon they could potentially use against Danny.” She shrugged. “Not that it actually helped, because neither came back home in the weeks after the incident.”

“They were at the GIW base.” Danny crossed his arms and leaned back on his seat. The young man looked tired. “Because of course there was work to do with the captured ghosts.”

Jason hummed. “So they’ve been working on experimentation since then?”

Jazz shook her head. “We were telling the truth when we said they weren’t involved in that, at least not by the time we left Amity Park. Back then they were more involved in investigation on ghost containment and weapons research.”

He nodded, and turned back to Danny. “And the coup?”

The young man cursed under his breath. “Dealt with them.”

Jason waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What—”

“Listen, man.” He slapped the table and stood up. “That doesn’t matter. They don’t matter. I dealt with it. I accepted the damn crown and then told everybody to fuck off. And they have done that so far.” He breathed in, breathed out. “I’m nobody’s king, I’m just a simple guard now, okay? Nothing more, nothing less.”

With that, Danny walked away and left Jazz and Jason simmer in the tense silence. He looked at her, trying to gauge if he had said the wrong thing, but Jazz appeared apologetic.

“Before you ask — I don’t know either. Nobody does. He just… after we took down the GIW base, he took the captured ghosts back to the Realms. He came back two days later, hurt and barely coherent, and never spoke of what happened there. To anybody.” Not even me, the hurt statement was implied. “He was… changed. He didn’t say what happened but from what we could piece together it was bad, very bad.”

A myriad of possibilities crossed Jason’s mind. How bad is “very bad”? How much did Danny stir things up at the Realms that he had remained unbothered ever since? He tried to map the scars that he saw, and grimaced at the idea of two straight days of fighting after doing a raid to the GIW base.

Danny was done. With being a hero. With fighting. With trying to do the right thing.

What was even the “right thing” here? Going back to being the King of a dimension that doesn’t want him and he doesn’t want in return? Give it up, and risk someone worse taking control of so much power? Destroying the GIW? Going after their own parents?

He thought about the Joker. He asked Jazz when she was back from checking on the clown, and she willingly shared some details about his state. Jason never felt sorry for the fucker, but gained a new appreciation for Danny and his abilities.

The power to take someone’s soul and seal it inside their bodies — what else could he do? What other otherworldly and potentially devastating powers did he have at his disposal?

What else was he choosing not to face? What else was he running away from?

He stood up and followed Danny outside, finding him standing in the cold morning rain of Gotham. It wasn’t pouring, but it was easy to get soaking wet if you underestimated it.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

Both ignored the door when Jazz quietly followed them out of the ice cream shop.

“Good.” The younger man looked up at the gray sky, maybe looking for the sun. Water droplets fell down his face, and he welcomed them with a relieved, albeit tiny, smile. “Because I don’t have anything else to say.”

Jason rolled his eyes. What a drama queen.

He glanced at Jazz, who was shaking her head. “Whatever you say, edgelord.”

She pulled Danny to her chest for a hug, which he only protested with a tiny grumble. Jason chuckled before he was pulled in too by a surprisingly strong grip.

“If I have to suffer sisterly hugs then so do you.”

Jazz giggled but welcomed the addition to her arms, not caring that she could barely hold both of them and her arms fell short. She squeezed them harder towards her chest, humming in delight.

Great, she was a hugger. Jason really didn’t need another Grayson in his life.

<< Prequel - Clown around and find out | First Part

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#danny arkham security guard #dpxdc #Danny arkham security guard au #gil writes #dp x dc #batpham #dc x dp

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a-a-a-anon · 3 days

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absolutely fascinated by young dee who is criminally under-discussed so here is my dissertation on what happened in her college years (ft. dr. gainer, setting her roommate on fire, being institutionalized)/my idea for a fic that I will almost certainly never write/my way too serious take on a few throwaway dee lore lines

timeline background: we know that dee majored in psychology ('charlie got molested') and got "three fourths" of the way in (meanwhile dennis finished his psych minor.) assuming this was a four year program, I'm gonna guess that in her third year she got institutionalized and most likely had to drop out ('gun fever too: still hot'.) we also know that she had her back brace until she was twenty ('underage drinking'), so I'm guessing that means she got her back brace off in her third year.

we know that dennis fancied himself a psychologist since he was young, but I think dee did too. in particular I think she was wary and interested in her brother's psychology; she seems very aware of his psychopathy and bpd in 'making dennis reynolds a murderer' and 'psycho pete returns.' in my head she's been interested in dennis' psychology since they were kids and she saw him snapping crows necks. so instead of forcing her way into acting school, she studied psychology to better understand her brother (and also deep down, herself, who is very much the other side of the same fucked up coin.) it also meant she could tell herself she could study her characters even better when she became an actress.

i think she put in (her version of) genuine academic effort to get in, fuelled kind of by spite (remember the way she studied that thick medical book in 'hero or hate crime' or her very quick math in 'boggs: ladies reboot'). she studies books and gets cricket to quiz her and she still fails to get into penn. but frank always pitied her (i think she was his favorite of the twins-remember "let your sister into the gang", "that's my girl!", "i'm sorry the grift didn't work out, sweetie") so he shells out cash to get her in, but also to get her away from home so he has to deal with her even less.

dennis wants to do anything dee does but better and he wants to keep her close by (to watch her crash and burn, and also because he's weirdly possessive-see 'the gang broke dee' "i'm your select!"). and obviously he's barbara's favorite. so barbara gives him money to get in too. she also gets him into a frat and pays for his classes and his rent and everything he needs. dee has to live in a dumpy dorm with a female roommate.

but college presents dee a chance to moult her previous place in life where she was known as a monster (remember how insistent she was that "people can change!" in 'franks pretty woman'. I think dees always wanted to believe she can shed that feeling she's inferior, but she never has). in my head her female roommate is basically normal-has real friends of her own, mentally stable, attractive-which is exactly what dee craves. dee wants to be popular and well liked and she wants to infiltrate her roommates life, imitate her, be in the Cool group. and she places all her hopes on a friendship with the roommate but dee has never navigated real female friendships before, not with someone like her. deep down she also wishes she found what dennis found in mac, whatever it was, because ever since dennis met mac he's never been as close to her. and i do think dee is some flavor of queer. and the roommate is well liked in the way that dee admires and envies. so there is that blurriness between wanting to be her and wanting to be with her. in my head her roommate looks like the woman from dee's fantasy in 'the gang saves the day' (and they both represent that promise of escape from dee's shitty life).

dee is so desperate for the roommates approval and her love and her life that she goes insane, copying and flattering and competing with her. ever the shitty actress, she tries to emulate her, but comes off as manic and creepy. and maybe her roommate is nice enough to not completely shun her, recognizing that she's struggling. maybe in dees mind they actually are becoming friends when her roommate asks things like "are you okay?"

and dee has to talk about her plan with dennis because he's the only person who would Get It. and she makes it sound like it's almost working. dennis feels jealous and worried and threatened that maybe dee might actually be seen as normal, especially when she gets her back brace off in the third year. so dennis fucks her roommate, more of a show that he owns and controls each and every pathetic part of dee’s life than anything else. and so that dee knows she'll never be as good as him, she'll never as easily charm people as dennis does. (or at least he tells her he does).

to prove that To Someone dee is Good Enough, and so desperate for attention, dee (who's been groomed all this time) enters a sexual relationship with her professor dr. gainer. she tells herself she has the power in it, that she seduced him ("he didn't molest me. i had sex with him 'cause i wanted to.") and she has a mental break, because the thing she told herself held her back from being loved (her back brace) is finally gone by now and yet she still feels like a monster, and the only scrap of "love" she can get is from her professor.

and then she can't take the fact that she can steal her roommates clothes, can emulate her sexual prowess (in dee's own fucked up, delusional way), and still neither be well liked like her nor be loved by her. so maybe dee will always be a monster. so dee tried to burn her roommate in her bed, because she represented the promise of change and popularity, and that promise was a lie and dee's effort was for nothing. and she's institutionalized.

and i think there was kind of a falling out between the twins and their parents, because barbara wants to abandon dee but dennis can't help but visit her. and frank doesn't even step foot in a place that reminds him of his traumatic childhood, and avoids dee even more than he used to because she is his childhood mirror image. so the family becomes even more fractured and estranged.

and maybe dee becomes medicated and slowly crawls her way halfway to normal by the first season (her acting classes are so well-adjusted, taking part in healthy hobbies of her!). until her father comes back into her life and everything falls apart <3

side note, even though dee is crushingly lonely-"I just got a cat 'cause I wanted something to hang out with. I don't have, you know, a roommate or anything, and I don't really have anyone to talk to..."-AND she struggles to pay rent whenever frank cuts her off, i hc that she refused to ever get a roommate in particular female roommate again after this because both her internalized misogyny got worse and she was afraid of what would happen (what she would do) again.

#THIS IS FOR THOSE WITH THE DEE BRAIN ROT WHO SEES HER AS A SHAKESPEAREAN TRAGIC HEROINE WHO JUST WANTS TO BE THE BELOVED COMEDIC RELIEF #also no way in HELL dee was genuinely ever like nice roller rink ep dee. in my head that was the guys absolving themselves for turning dee #even more traumatized and isolated and jaded thru their treatment of her. bc it was obviously a freak accident shes Like That right #(in the sense of like unreliable narrator/faulty memory/lack of any care or attention given to dees life)#dee reynolds #iasip #iasip headcanons #nina.rambles #posts with an audience of me myself and i #tw grooming #tw mental illness #not sure how to tag this!#to me she is the main character.#dennis reynolds #bc there is heavy mention of him too #trash twins #frank reynolds #barbara reynolds

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vivwritesfics · 2 days

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Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter Seven - The Party Princess... Buys A Car?

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

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The Party Princess... Buys A Car?

The Party Princess is back in Monaco, but it appears as though she has cleaned up her act. The Monaco Press has tried to keep up with her movements, but, truthfully, there hasn't been much to keep up with.

It appears as though she and Formula One driver Charles Leclerc have cleaned each other up for the better.

We are all aware of the princess's history with cars. It was assumed by many in Monaco that the royal family had put her on a ban after she'd crashed her 1963 Volkswagen Beetle.

That's why it came as a shock to us to see the Princess out, shopping for a new car. She was documented visiting Mercedes and Audi dealerships, but didn't appear to be having any luck.

The Princess took to social media to post about the purchase of a new car. It was no surprise that she went for another classic, a 1976 Lancia Scorpion, another movie car to add to her collection.

Charles Leclerc has not yet been seen acknowledging the Princess's new car. We wonder how long it will be until he finally gets her her first Ferrari.

"Cha, I did a thing."

It was a race weekend, one she couldn't attend. But she was still watching from the television in the apartment that she'd started to clean (and she was making progress, too. From the moment they'd gotten back from their little holiday, she began cleaning her apartment. Started with this dishes in the sink and made her way around the room).

"What did you do?" He asked, voice amused.

She practically squealed as she answered. "I bought a Lancia!"

There was a moment where Charles didn't answer, and the smile dropped from her face. "Charles," she said. "Answer me, I beg."

A breathy sort of laugh left his lips. "Chérie," he muttered, voice quiet, kind, and caring. "They rot."

"Shut up," she mumbled. He didn't know that she was currently sat in her Lancia, in the garage beneath her apartment building. "I can pay for someone to look after her for me." She leaned forward against the steering wheel, unable to stop herself from smiling. "I've given her a name.

"What's she called?" Asked Charles.

"Giselle?"

He repeated the name back to her. "Why Giselle?"

She leaned back in her seat. "It's from a movie," she answered and climbed out. "I can't wait for you to meet her."

Charles had to go not long after that. He asked for pictures of Giselle, ones he promised to look at after the race. She stayed sitting in her lovely new car for just a few moments longer, taking a moment to bask in her new purchase. This one she'd take care of, just like she'd tried to do with the rest of her cars. But, this time, she'd do it.

She started her up. Giselle rumbled to life and she drove her out of parking garage.

It wasn't unusual to see odd and extravagant cars around Monaco. But Giselle was something else. She drove around the streets, sunglasses covering her eyes. Cameras were on her, but, for the first time, she didn't much care.

She drove Giselle to the palace. It was a right job getting let in, her car not yet on the list. When she drove up the drive, a member of staff pulled open for door. She tossed him the keys. "Take good care of her," she said and ran up the steps.

It was easy to find Henri, hidden away in his office with his head in his hands. "Hen," she said and sat in the empty seat opposite him. "I think I did it, I think I finally cleaned up my act."

"Great," Henri said with little enthusiasm.

She grabbed her phone from her pocket, pulled up a picture of Giselle and placed it in front of her brother. "She's gorgeous, isn't she?" She began. "Charles says she rots, but I'm gonna take care of her."

Henri released a sigh. "Where the hell did you disappear to last week?" He asked suddenly. "Do you know who has to deal with everything when you disappear? Me! I have to do it. I have so many better things I could be doing with my time!"

"Jeez, Hen. I just got away for a little while. It's not that big a deal," she mumbled and checked her nails. "Besides, it not like you need me for anything."

And, suddenly, Henri was crying. His face was hidden in his hands, but his sobs were undeniable. "Fucking hell, Henri. I was with Charles. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Shut up," he spat between sobs. "You're a spoilt child and you haven't got a clue what's going on."

It was nothing Henri hadn't said to her before, but he'd never said it with such emotion before.

"You have no idea what the real world is like. Our family is already sick of dealing with you, so they dumped you on me. And, guess what, kid? I'm sick of you too!"

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. Clearing her throat she stood up. "I know, Henri. I know you're sick of me, you didn't need to tell me."

She stood and strode out of his office. Henri didn't call her back, didn't make any attempt to apologise. Fine, she didn't need her brother. Climbing into Giselle she held her phone to her ear. "C'mon," she mumbled, beginning her drive back to her apartment.

When had Charles become the person she tried to seek comfort from?

She didn't know that Charles had a bad race, didn't know that he was in no mood. He picked up the phone though, if only to tell her just that.

"Charlie," she began, but she didn't get a chance to say much else.

"I can't talk right now," he said quickly, voice low.

But she didn't much care, she needed him. "Charles, please."

But he couldn't hear the sadness in her voice, not past his own anger and annoyance. "Why are you being so needy?" He spat. "I can't fucking talk right now."

She ended the call and threw her phone onto the passenger seat. Pulling over, she buried her face in her hands and cried. Tears ran down her cheeks and she sobbed until her chest hurt.

This day couldn't get any worse, she decided as she drove back to her apartment. She didn't want to speak to anybody. Not Henri, not Charles, not her friends. Nobody.

The news of her father's sickness broke that afternoon.

lol i thought we'd be wrapping up with this story but i guess not lmao also, giselle for reference below

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synthetickitsune · 18 hours

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svt + when they see you walking down the aisle a/n: a tiktok i saw sent me down a delulu spiral

Seungcheol ❧ His world stops and the universe crashes down and the stardust settles in his eyes as he watches you approaching him slowly. It’s just stars. It’s not the lights reflecting in the hint of tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. Love is pain, Seungcheol realizes. His cheeks hurt so much from the effort to keep himself from smiling too widely, too like a lovesick fool that he is. He can’t take his eyes off you, which makes it hard to keep a straight or at least decent face that won’t betray how embarrassingly excited he is for this moment. Then again, maybe that’s good - he thinks when he notices you biting back your own smile. You didn’t want him to see the final look before the actual thing and would it be too inappropriate to tell you how gorgeous you look and kiss you before he gets the blessing? Perhaps, and he wants your wedding to be perfect so he’ll be patient but you’re making it ridiculously hard. He’s already failing to hide how unbelievably in love he is and how impatient he is to put that ring on your finger.

Jeonghan ❧ His lips part and he loses his breath. His racing mind comes to a stop, the time does too. He doesn’t care that he’s showing all the people around his rawest emotions, because he knows nobody is looking at him. They’re all looking at you. They must be. What could be more important than you right now? You coming towards Jeonghan slowly. You, who will be his - who chose him, who accepts him. He swallows the lump in his throat and looks towards his friends for support. Does he deserve this? He wants to have the ring on his finger already. Something, anything to reassure him he’s not dreaming. Maybe he’s not ready. Is he enough? He can’t cheat his way out of this one. What if he tricked you into believing he’s worthy of you? He’d never lie to you, but what if he did this entire time and you fell in love with someone he isn’t? You’re perfect. You’re perfect to him, and you’re perfect with him. He wants to tease you, even here and now, like he always does but he can’t. He gets too bashful when you look at him with this much adoration.

Joshua ❧ Standing straight and awaiting the moment the love of his life will appear and walk down the aisle towards him, towards your shared future, Joshua doesn’t feel nervous at all. It’s fate, it was all predestined from the beginning until now. You will exchange your vows and seal the promises with a kiss. There’s no reason for anxiety, no reason to feel nervous. Yet the moment the music plays and he sees you, he can’t help but swallow thickly and feel a pang of displeasure at the strained way he smiles. He doesn’t want to be nervous, but his hands start to tremble. You’re so beautiful, you’re glowing like the sun. It’s blinding him but he can’t look away. He can’t because he needs to take you in, and he needs to know it’s real and you’re not running away. He knows you won’t. He knows it, but what if? He’s too blessed, something is bound to get ruined - and he prays it won’t be you and him. You’re everything he wants, isn’t it unfair he gets to achieve his dream? You always tell him to be more selfish. Perhaps he should listen to you more and doubt himself less.

Jun ❧ He barely stops himself before he can move towards you, his hands twitch subtly in their longing to hold you. Jun knows he can’t mess this up - you’re supposed to be given away to him, you need to be the one to come to him. That’s the whole point. He knows you love him, feels blessed for it every second of every day. He has no doubt the ceremony will go just as he imagined - better even because it’s real! No one will take you away from him, there’s no evil plot in place. It’s just a ceremony - it will take a while. But he simply wants to hold you already. You must feel so awkward in the unfamiliar clothes you’re wearing. The shoes look uncomfortable too - what if you stumble? Wait. You’re so beautiful. He finally focuses on looking at you and not worrying about you. And suddenly he can’t move. It would be too daring to approach you. Is it really alright to let someone else guide you for the last time before you’re his to protect for a lifetime? He’ll have to take it this time, but never more afterwards. His lips stretch into a proud smile. You’re really his, and it makes him giddy like a child.

Hoshi ❧ He’s breathing slowly and deeply to calm himself, to stay still despite the waiting stretching on forever. He thinks he’ll feel relief when he sees you, but when the moment arrives… Soonyoung laughs, blinking up at the ceiling to stop the tears that flood his eyes from spilling. He does feel relief, but more than that he feels overwhelming joy, gratitude, and pride. He needs to be fast with his little breakdown because he needs a second look. He needs to enjoy the opportunity because it’s only today that he’ll get the chance to experience it. You’re blurry through the unspilled tears but he still sighs a soft woah that makes his best man sigh in exasperation that he ignores completely, desperately wiping away his tears. He’s beaming at you, and he envies you for looking much more composed than he is, with only a slight pink blush adoring your face. He wants to kiss it away. Would that be too improper to do? Yes. So would be screaming for the whole world to hear that you’re marrying him today, so suck it up everyone who isn’t him. Yet that’s what he wants to do the most - right after saying the ‘I do’.

Wonwoo ❧ It feels like the first time he saw you. You wear the same bashful smile, nerves just radiating off you like you can't believe he's waiting for you. Wonwoo remembers that back then he felt the same - in disbelief you'd actually come. He feels no such foolish feelings today as he smiles at you warmly and appreciates how beautiful you look. His chest is filled with pride knowing you chose him, and that the people that matter the most to him will witness the moment that you become his in yet another way. It's not the most important, he tries to think, just a formality. What matters most is that you agreed to spend your life with him, this is just a celebration. Yet with all eyes on you both, it's impossible not to feel pressured. Maybe he lied. He is nervous like he was back then, but now he can look at you and find the promise of a future filled with love in your eyes. He has it all planned out - the peaceful mornings and quiet nights. Bickering about new furniture, sharing chores. Forever suddenly doesn’t sound so scary - it sounds like too short of a time.

Woozi ❧ He needs to look up, but he knows that once he does he'll be damned. He waits for the moment the music starts with dread that has nothing to do with any doubts and everything to do with the fact he feels himself getting emotional. Jihoon refuses to cry. He’ll make an exception for you, as he always does, and he’ll allow his emotions to show but he will not cry. And yet the moment you appear, he almost feels his efforts go to waste. You’re so beautiful, and he’s hit with memories from your first meeting all the way to where you’re now walking towards him. It feels more like the reverse is true - like he’s the one running towards you, towards your embrace that he learned to call home. He takes a deep breath, lets it out in a wistful sigh that gives him enough strength to smile without cracking. It feels too much like he’s showing off. He told you before that he could’ve lived forever and he’d still feel he didn’t do enough to deserve the privileges he can currently enjoy. You most of all. How did he get so lucky? He won’t cry. So why are you looking so blurry…

The8 ❧ Breathe in, breathe out. Slowly, methodically. Minghao is nothing if not a master of self-control. So he doesn’t allow his cautious excitement to be ruined by his rising anxiety. It’s just the expectation of everyone. He’s not performing, but it almost feels like he is, and he feels guilty for putting so much pressure on you too. On the other hand, he feels his chest swell with pride just seeing how many people will witness you and him intertwining your lives together until death do you apart. As much as he wants to appreciate how breathtaking you look, he holds your gaze. You need his support, and he can worship you later too. He smiles without realizing. It finally feels real, and he feels calm. His life is finally clicking in place. He sees nothing but trust in your eyes, and it’s all the reassurance he needs that everything will work out. You trust him to take care of you for the rest of your life, and he knows he can rely on you to do the same. He can’t wait to grow old with you. All those years later, he’ll still tease you for telling him he looks handsome before he could compliment you first.

Mingyu ❧ He knows there’s a bet in place whether he’ll cry or not, but surprisingly for everyone (including himself) Mingyu doesn’t feel anywhere close to tears. What he feels is a sense of accomplishment. He has the love of his life walking down the aisle to where he’s waiting at the altar, both of you looking immaculate - although if he’s honest, he feels like he’ll look like a fool next to you. Like a piece of dirt next to a diamond. Honestly he forgot about the room. He can’t take his eyes off you, but he’s worried he’ll say something embarrassing if he doesn’t look away. The ground is nowhere near interesting enough though, so he bites his tongue and looks up again. You look even more beautiful. He grins at you at least, because he needs you to know that he’s obsessed with you - like you (or anyone in the room) can not see the heart eyes he’s giving you. It’s not his nature to be possessive of you, but something in his chest can’t stand that he’s not the one leading you down the aisle. Showing off his pretty love like that? Boasting who he pulled? Unthinkable. He would’ve cried then.

DK ❧ He is trying to get it together, he swears he is. He told himself he won't cry, he told his friends he won't cry. But damn, is it hard when he hears the music… and it's impossible when he sees you. Seokmin knows you're everything he ever wanted and everything he'll ever need when he sees you and the tears come way too easy. Barely stopping himself before he can ruin his suit by wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he laughs and just keeps looking at you. There’s nothing he can do, he’d just keep crying anyway. He sees how you try to speed up, to be given away to him if just a second sooner, but the person next to you won’t let you, and he chuckles. Just like he always runs to you when you need him, you always do the same for him too. Did he forget that when he cries, you cry as well? He tries to calm down, you can’t both be a mess. He wouldn’t do that to you. Suddenly he wishes it could be just you and him. Would that be not enough? You started calling him your husband a long time ago anyway.

Seungkwan ❧ He's been a mess since morning. He's probably been bottling it up for months though - through the chaos of wedding planning and everyday life, all the way until now. The moment he sees you, the dams just break. He reminds himself to breathe, manages to smile at you, and even watch every step you take through the tears. You are gorgeous. You kept hyping him up for this moment but Seungkwan will need to have a talk with you - how could you fail to mention he'll be overwhelmed by love and adoration the second he lays eyes on you? He wipes off his tears carefully and hopes he still looks presentable. He'd hate to ruin your photos. He doesn't know what to do with himself. Even out of the spotlight, very honored to stand in your shadow, he feels nervous. It feels silly to stand and wait, he can't stop his racing mind that floods with memories of you two. Your loving gaze on him does little to help. Your smile is so bright, and he realizes that despite the tears he's smiling too. He wants to kiss you already. It feels like a waste that he can't, but perhaps he'll talk you into making it up to him later.

Vernon ❧ It's not a big deal. He promised that to you and he promised that to himself. So why is he getting nervous? The crowd is full of familiar and supportive faces, and yet the one who'd chase away his nerves is missing. Tension keeps building up in Vernon's body all the way until the music plays and he sees you lead in to be entrusted to him. That might be a tad dramatic, but it's an interesting part of the ceremony nonetheless and he can't wait to mention it to you and get your opinion on it. Your lives are merging, so why act as if you're being given away, as if you're a burden to be passed around? You could never be a burden to him, which is rare for him but then again you are a miracle. He feels his cheeks burning. All it took was one look at you and suddenly the tension is gone, isn't that crazy? How are you his anyway? You're so beautiful he would've approached you even if you were strangers. Again - you are a miracle. He feels a smile settle on his face and he thinks how you're the only one to make him smile by simply existing. He's in for a good life, that's for sure.

Dino ❧ His chest is filled with pride and his entire life flashes before his eyes in the few moments between the music start and you entering. Chan feels lucky. Not for the first time in his life, but the feeling now is so intense his whole body tingles. He sees you and he sees the rest of his life. He loves you unconditionally, the feeling washes over him just as strongly as when he first realized it. Isn't it foolish that even though you'll exchange your vows in just a few minutes, he wants to propose again? How can he let you know how much he loves you? He knows loving takes time, and he’s excited beyond words to spend the rest of his days loving you. He can’t wait to spend his time with and on you. But what can he do right now? He wipes under his eyes, laughing at himself before standing straight again. He'll be the best man he can be for you, and he’ll start right here. His smile is wobbly, but he hopes you can feel its sincerity. He runs his vows through his head again, but he thinks he'll improvise and add more anyway. You look too beautiful not to promise you the stars - a promise he will keep.

#seventeen reactions #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt reactions #svthub #svt scenarios #svt fluff #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #fluff

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blacknedsoul-blog · 2 days

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Random Thought of the Day (VIII)

So, posh besties are finally canon, yay! Congratulations Annabel, you only had to die, get divorced, survive an assassination attempt and have about 4 or 5 mental breakdowns to make one (1) friend, that is progress! Hopefully the next one will take less effort.

That said, there are two things I want to dwell on here.

I should like to by your friend and Could we be friends?

This is not the first time we've seen Annabel ask or tell someone outright that she wants to be friends. It's the second.

Yes, Lenore is not only Annabel's wife, but -possibly- her first proper friend. And it's really interesting because these scenes show you two really different sides of her, even though it's a similar situation.

When she meets Lenore, Annabel comes across as a very confident person, full of confidence and absolutely charming. She is formal but approachable and straightforward about her intentions: "We can help each other".

On the other hand, at this point, Annabel is keeping the reasons she wants this friendship to herself, she seems nervous -even a little uncomfortable- and behaves much more awkwardly. She hesitates, chokes on words, doesn't quite know if what she's doing is appropriate.

If I had to think of reasons for this contrast, there are two.

First: Annabel when she has time to plan vs. when she has to improvise. She went looking for Lenore, probably had at least an entire night to think about what kind of person this mysterious woman locked in the attic might be and how to approach this conversation. On the other hand, this conversation with Prospero had to be pulled out of her sleeve after a lot of emotionally complicated moments, maybe it didn't occur to her that this conversation could actually happen, and she has no plan B if Prospero rejects the offer.

On top of that, Annabel knows better than anyone the risks of getting attached to someone in Nevermore.

Second, that the scene with Prospero functions in some way as a reflection of Annabel's feelings when she first meets Lenore: there's no reason to believe she was any better equipped to enter into a relationship with anyone at that point in her life than she is now. But in this scene, we -and Lenore- see what Annabel wants to show, the parts of herself that she may find most attractive or pleasing. Here, Prospero gets a glimpse of her awkward and uncomfortable side, and I'd bet that awkwardness was present in that first meeting with Lenore, it's just that she had a chance to think about it, rehearse it, and thus hide those sides of her character as well.

The thing that makes me think of it that way is this:

Annabel's first gesture to Lenore is to shake her hand, which she also mentions here:

She still doesn't remember doing it, but the idea behind it is more or less the same: Annabel associates this kind of formality with friendly or amicable gestures; a mixture of business dealings and affectionate promises.

Again, the same intention, but with a very different performance. One that makes me wonder what exactly her thoughs when she went to see Lenore.

The Introvert Who Adopts and the Extrovert Who Is Adopted

Another thing that got me thinking about this whole thing is that so far we've seen Annabel -a very introverted person- be the one to take the first step in getting into a relationship with someone: she's the one who asks the question.

The funny thing is that even though Lenore is an extrovert, it was the other way around, she never took the initiative to start a relationship with anyone: Annabel came to see her, Morella is her assigned roommate, Duke came to talk to her, Pluto was won in a Pokémon swap (and she didn't choose him, Ada threw him under the bus), and Eulalie and Bernice approached her first.

I can see why this would happen from Annabel's side; she's a person who moves in the shadows, someone who lives by appearances and isn't afraid to manipulate or deceive to get her way. Under this premise, explicitly telling the people she cares about that this is an honest relationship feels like something even necessary for the sake of the relationship and her own mental health.

But in thinking about why this is happening to Lenore, and going back and reading chapter 22 to do this little analysis, I remembered this scene:

And…I don't know about you, but I think I'm going to pin this one. For now.

#nevermore webtoon #annabel lee nevermore #lenore nevermore #white raven #annabel lee whitlock #lenore vandernacht #Prospero Nevermore #posh besties #I like to think that Lenore found the traits Annabel wanted to show attractive #but fell in love with her silly and awkward side #the one Annabel wants to hide

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amphibiahawks321 · 2 days

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Think we could get a short of queen bee from Helluva Boss noticing someone flirting with reader?

(Demon) : Kickass party bee!!

Beelzebub : Fuck yeah it is!! Better get used to the drinks cause today LET'S GET ABSOLUTELY WASTED!!

[All the demons start cheering at her]

YEAAAAAAAAH!!

[Beelzebub floats down to get a drink]

(Demon) : This is a time to be remembered!!

Beelzebub : Fuck yeah it is! Now Go on and have some fun bitch!

(Demon) : Hell yeah!

[Beelzebub grabs a cup and is about to drink]

Beelzebub : Hm?

[Beelzebub noticed Y/N entering]

Beelzebub : !!!!!'

Beelzebub : Hey Y/N! Over here! You actually came!-

[A Random (Demon) walked up to Y/N and start chatting with him]

Beelzebub : Hm?

(Demon) : Chuckles you came alone cutie~?

M!Reader : Yeah, but I am here to meet someone

(Demon) : How about you come with me? I'll definitely show you a good time at the party~

M!Reader : What an offer, But No thanks

(Demon) : Oh come oooon I won't bite Chuckles well unless you want me too~

Beelzebub : .....

M!Reader : Listen for the last time, I am not interested....

(Demon) : Oh come one sweetie don't be like that~ I promise i'll

[Beelzebub taps (Demon)'s shoulder]

(Demon) : Ugh... Can I help YOU-!!!?!?

Beelzebub : Hey...

(Demon) : B-beelzebub!?-

Beelzebub : Bee... It's bee...

Beelzebub : Why exactly are you pressuring this guy....

(Demon) : H-hehe I just wanted to hangout and i-

Beelzebub : And flirting and wanting to sleep with him is a good term for 'hanging out'....

(Demon) : Y-you know what... I'll j-just go-

Beelzebub : Good idea...

[The (Demon) immediately walked away sweating]

M!Reader blushing : Woah... Thanks Bee!

Beelzebub : No problem! I'm glad you came Y/N! And also I'm... Sorry.... I wanted you to have a genuine fun time here but instead the first thing that happened when you entered was getting hit on by a random bitch who wants to get between your pants....

M!Reader blushing : it's okay bee! I'm just happy that you helped me back there!

Beelzebub : Duh! I'm the only one who's allowed to get between your pants y'know~

M!Reader : Hell yeah you are~

Beelzebub : Now come on! Whether you do or don't drink alcohol I'll definitely show you a fun time!