#I hate how authors present his character in fics

[asdfghjklmals]

GRADUATION✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. mentions mental health. WORD COUNT: 3.4k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. lover girl!oc. high school lovers.

SYNOPSIS: satoru and oc gojo girlfriend finally graduate from tokyo jujutsu high school! AUTHOR'S NOTE: happy easter and graduation season for those who are graduating this year! 💚 i realized that when i was writing this, oc gojo girlfriend loves satoru so much. i used to write that satoru loved her more, but after this fic, i'm not so sure lol. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions, please do!

tokyo jujutsu high library

“who’s most likely to be on the bachelor?” you asked your bestfriend, shoko ieiri.

even though he wasn’t graduating this year, you and shoko both said in unison, “kento nanami.”

you giggled at the thought of how uncomfortable nanami would be as a bachelor contestant, “you know nanami would absolutely hate being on the bachelor though.”

shoko nodded her head in agreement while reading the other high school superlatives. “what about life of the party?”

again in unison, “satoru gojo.”

“how about this one?” shoko asked, “most likely to sleep through an earthquake.”

“if that’s not me, it has to be tsumiki.” you laughed out loud, knowing that your sleep was sacred to you and nothing could wake you up, “—and worst case of senioritis goes to you, shoko.”

shoko couldn’t disagree with that superlative. she grinned and read the next prompt.

“cutest couple obviously goes to you and gojo.” shoko chuckled before sighing. she pursed her lips, “ah—best bromance…”

“you already know who that should’ve went to,” you said with a soft frown, “satoru has been having a hard time this week—he thinks he’s good at hiding his emotions from me, but i know him too well.”

this week was your graduation ceremony for your whopping class of 3 tokyo jujutsu high sorcerers. jujutsu high school graduations weren’t that big of a celebration like most traditional high school graduations, but it was still important for the school to commemorate their young sorcerers on graduating—and also even making it to graduation given the dangers of being a sorcerer.

suguru geto, who was also known as satoru’s other half, his one and only, wasn’t able to be here to graduate with you, shoko, and satoru due to his decision to go his own way. suguru had a different vision in life, and he decided to leave everything behind to achieve it—including leaving behind his bestfriend, satoru. (read ‘to be present’ here)

shoko sighed as you looked back at her. it must’ve also been hard on shoko, who was a part of their trio. sashisu was shoko’s, satoru’s, and suguru’s group name. they were practically inseparable before you came along.

“suguru should’ve been here too.” shoko said quietly.

you patted her back softly, a measly attempt to comfort her, “i know.”

you heard the library door slide open, satoru waltzed through the door with a blue lollipop in his hand.

“you done perfecting your valedictorian speech yet?” satoru asked as he sat down beside you, kicking his feet on top of the library table as you and shoko closed out of the yearbook superlative tab.

you smiled warmly at him, “yeah, it’s been done.”

of course you were the valedictorian of your class. you took your studies very seriously compared to shoko and satoru. not only were you the valedictorian, but you also planned the graduation dinner that followed the very short ceremony. as the student body president, you had a lot to take care of this past month.

“can’t wait to hear it,” satoru said with a grin, “i better be getting a shoutout in your speech.”

“a shoutout for what?” shoko teased, “being (y/n)’s biggest pain in the ass the past three years she’s been here?”

satoru gasped, “more like being the biggest love of her life! if it wasn’t for jujutsu high, she would have never met me, shoko!”

you laughed at the two bantering back and forth before staring out into the distance. it was beautiful sunny day. tomorrow, you'd be graduates.

later that night

you shot a glare at your boyfriend, “satoru, did you iron your uniform for tomorrow like i asked you to?”

he smiled innocently at you, tilting his frosty head to the side in his attempt to look cute—which meant 'whoops, no'.

you sighed and held out your hands while satoru passed you his uniform with a grin, attempting to sneak a kiss on your cheek. you tried your best not to burst out laughing. hell, you were so in love with this man.

you popped off his jujutsu high pins and set them on his nightstand before stepping out of his room to head to the campus laundry room.

you heard satoru call out to you as you walked down the hallway.

“thanks sweetheart! i love you!”

a smile danced across your face. that satoru gojo whom you loved so silly, what were you going to do with him?

as you waited for the iron to heat up, you recited your graduation speech in your head. you were nervous. what if you tripped down the stairs while you grabbed your diploma from principal yaga? what if you messed up your valedictorian speech? or worse, what if you embarrassed yourself in front of the entire jujutsu high faculty and alumni?

"your forehead is going to have lines for days if you don't stop scowling."

you turned around at the familiar voice. satoru had come to find you.

"you can pay for my botox then." you retorted, sighing as you turned around to face him.

"what could your pretty little head be thinking about?" satoru asked. he hated to see anything but a smile on your face. “i know it’s not about how much you love me.”

you scoffed and chewed on your bottom lip before you grabbed the iron, gliding it down satoru's uniform.

"i'm worried i'm going to trip down the stairs, mess up my speech, or just completely embarrass myself in front of the jujutsu high faculty and alumni."

satoru gave you the ‘are you kidding me’ look and took the hot iron from your hands. he set it down on the ironing board and grabbed your shoulders.

"look at me." he commanded before resting his finger under your chin to guide your face to his, "sweetheart, the (y/n) (l/n) i know is perfect in every way. you walk confidently like this world is yours even in the highest heels, so i know for a fact that you won't trip down the stairs. you are a natural born leader and people gravitate towards you, so i know that your speech will grab everyone’s attention. you won't mess up because you've been working on this for the last month, i know that because i've been right by your side while you recited your speech a million times. and lastly, you won't embarrass yourself in front of everyone because you're perfect in almost every way. you're the pride and joy of the jujutsu community."

you pouted your lips and tilted your head to the side, "perfect in almost every way?"

"you're mean to me—" satoru teased before pressing a kiss against your lips, "—you don't kiss me in the mornings. which is a deduction to your perfect score."

you giggled as he peppered kisses on your cheek. one of your love languages was words of affirmation, and satoru gojo sure knew how to make you feel affirmed. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him close.

"i guess this meanie will sleep with the kids tonight." you whispered as you bantered back with satoru, knowing he'd rather sleep next to you than sleep alone.

he paused and squeezed you tightly before replying to your retort, "wait, i like you even though you're mean. you can bully me all you want, i don't mind."

yours and satoru's laughter filled the laundry room. he didn't think he could get enough of your precious laugh. he'd say any ridiculous thing to help take your mind off of your worries.

the next day: graduation day

"thank you for coming to the 2010 jujutsu high school gradation ceremony." principal yaga began, "after we hear from both myself and principal gakuganji, we will listen to the speeches from the valedictorians of both high schools."

you sat between satoru and shoko, your legs would not stop bouncing in nervousness. after each speech, your heart started to race even faster as your turn came.

"and lastly, we saved the best for last. the valedictorian of tokyo jujutsu high school, (y/n) (l/n), will be giving her speech."

the crowed filled with jujutsu high faculty, alumni, a large amount of jujutsu clans including the gojo clan and your clan started to clap as their eyes followed you to the stage. satoru gave you an encouraging smile and squeezed your hand. he whispered ‘you'll be amazing.’ to you before he let your hand go. you gave him a soft smile before getting out of your seat.

you walked down the side of the auditorium and up the steps to the microphone.

"thank you for gathering here today to celebrate the 4 long years of training, learning, and dealing with satoru gojo." the crowed erupted in laughter as you winked at satoru. he shot a grin back at you.

“i'd like to start off with a moment of silence to remember our fallen comrades and past alumni who have sacrificed their lives to become sorcerers and to protect our community. they have our gratitude and highest appreciation.”

as you gave yourself and the crowd a moment of silence, your heart raced. you were so nervous, your hands started trembling as you fiddled with your printed speech in front of you.

'you won't mess up because you've been working on this for the last month, i know that because i've been right by your side while you recited your speech a million times.'

memories of satoru's encouraging words from last night filled your head as you took a deep breath to continue on with your speech.

"3 years ago, i joined tokyo jujutsu high because i wanted to get away from being home schooled and i wanted to experience this thing called life." you looked out into the crowd to see your clan, quietly watching you. "i didn't know what i was getting myself into at the time, but i have to say, the past three years have been some of the hardest, but most rewarding." (read 'love at first fight' here)

you thought back on the gruesome hand-to-hand combat trainings with mei mei, the tiring, long, and dangerous missions exorcising curses with satoru, suguru, yu, and nanami, the late night study sessions for exams with shoko. as difficult as it was, you'd do it all over... especially if you could meet satoru again.

"i'd like to give a huge shoutout to yaga-sensei, congratulations on your promotion to principal—and thank you for taking on not only two, but three special grade sorcerers during my time here."

a cheer for your sensei, masamichi yaga, erupted through the auditorium as you, satoru, and shoko clapped alongside the crowd.

"this evening is not only about celebrating our academic achievements as students, but also to celebrate becoming official jujutsu sorcerers. now i know that being a jujutsu sorcerer isn't for the faint of heart, nor is it an easy job. it's gruesome, painful not only physically, but mentally. which is why i'm happy to announce that our very own shoko ieiri is going to be hired on as our official in-house doctor for jujutsu high. she will oversee both tokyo and kyoto locations. congrats, shoko!"

applause began for shoko as she stood up from her seat and waved to the crowd. you smiled brightly at your bestfriend—even though you knew she cheated on a majority of her tests. however, shoko's talent in reversed cursed technique was second to none. she would be an amazing doctor, legit or not.

"one thing that happened during my 3 years here at tokyo jujutsu high school that changed my life for the better was—"

satoru muttered, attempting to finish your sentence, "—meeting satoru gojo."

"—becoming a guardian to megumi and tsumiki fushiguro. courtesy of satoru gojo." you laughed, "which i'm also happy to announce that satoru and i will be returning next year to join the tokyo jujutsu high faculty and staff. satoru will be in charge of training first year students while i will be the administrative secretary for both tokyo and kyoto jujutsu high locations." (read 'learn to love' here)

you cleared your throat, "now that we've shared the fun and exciting plans for your three graduates from tokyo jujutsu high school, i'd like to talk about something on a heavier note. those of you who know, know that there was supposed to be 4 students graduating today..."

you felt a lump in your throat, the thought of suguru geto not being here with you, satoru, and shoko shattered a piece of your heart. you were sure satoru and shoko were thinking of him in this moment as well.

"—because of this loss, as the future administrative secretary, i will be implementing reviews and mental health checks on all of our students every quarter. i believe that we need to check in on our students. my office doors will always be open to those who need a shoulder to lean on."

you understood that the idea of mental health was taboo, especially here in japan—but you knew that if you and satoru were going to be raising the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers, that you both were going to make a difference in the lives of your future students. megumi and tsumiki also encouraged that decision, as you and satoru did not want to see them suffer the same fate as suguru.

a loud applause struck the auditorium. satoru smiled proudly as he knew that you were going to make a positive change in the jujutsu society—and with you by his side, he could take on the impossible. even if that meant butting heads with the higher ups and starting out training first year sorcerers. he was going to make this experience fun and exciting for not only you and him, but for his future students as well.

you heard cheering from the gojo clan and your own clan. you saw touya and his new girlfriend, kana, hooting and hollering from their seats. you continued to shine brightly under the auditorium lights.

"before i end my little speech, there are some personal thank you's that i'd like to give. to megumi and tsumiki—you two are my perfect little angels and i will continue to strive to be a good role model for you both. to my fellow classmates—thank you for all the late night study sessions, the delicious meals in the dining hall, fun-filled sleepovers, and wild class trips. to my loving grandparents, genkei and kanao, and my brother, touya—thank you for believing in me and always pushing me to be the best i can be. to the gojo clan—thank you for always supporting me and for giving me someone like satoru." you smiled at the gojo clan's presence in the crowd and then turned back to face satoru. (read 'meet the gojos' here)

satoru gojo was beaming brightly, just like he always did. his blue eyes shined back at yours, awaiting your next line of thanks. your eyes watered as the love you felt for the white-haired sorcerer overflowed from your heart.

"lastly, thank you satoru—for believing in me and loving me unconditionally every single day since the first day we met on the sparring field."

you took one last deep breath and shouted, "congratulations jujutsu high school class of 2010! we made it!"

a final applaud erupted throughout the auditorium. you laughed in relief as you finished your speech and wiped the almost formed tears from your eyes. you watched as the crowd stood up in a standing ovation.

in a crowd full of people, your eyes could spot satoru gojo in a heartbeat.

later that night

after the graduation dinner, you and satoru sat outside in the courtyard of tokyo jujutsu high. the twinkle lights you ordered for the staff to use as decor danced against the night sky, illuminating the courtyard with a soft warm glow. and behind that warm glow, satoru's cerulean blue eyes glimmered. you could have sworn satoru had a blush on his face, almost as if he was embarrassed about something.

“can you believe we’re finally graduated?” you asked satoru in disbelief.

the last 3 years had flown by. you were officially graduated from tokyo jujutsu high. the next step this summer was to move out of the dorms and find a home to fit you, satoru, megumi, and tsumiki.

“not quite yet,” satoru said as he starting to unpin his buttons from his uniform. you gave him the 'what are you doing' look. he chuckled at your reaction.

satoru took off the second button from his uniform, taking your hand to place his button in your palm.

“now we’re officially graduated.”

in japan, there's a high school tradition for boys to give the second button of their uniform to the girl that they loved. this act has a special meaning that is equal to a heartfelt confession.

“isn’t it a no brainer that i should be receiving this button?” you giggled. you admired the button of his uniform in your palm, a sign of affection that basically said that you were his.

satoru leaned in towards your face, sneaking a kiss on your cheek. he wrapped his arms around you as you melted in his embrace.

“actually, you don't even have to answer, satoru. you’ve loved me for almost 3 years. it's a no brainer.”

“you mean i put up with a mean girlfriend for 3 years?” satoru laughed boisterously. he let go of you and booped your nose playfully. his signature cheshire grin spread across his face.

you grabbed his hand to hold his palm against your cheek, teasing him, "since i'm so mean, will you put up with another 3 years of no good morning kisses?"

the white haired sorcerer continued to grin, "i'll think about it."

you rolled your eyes at how dramatic satoru could be and mumbled under your breath, "you know how i feel about morning breath."

"yeah, yeah." satoru mumbled back at you, "gimme a congratulatory graduation kiss then."

you wrapped your arm around satoru's shoulders and planted a firm kiss on his lips. satoru pulled away from you and smiled, amused with how the night was going.

"sweetheart, i'd put up with another lifetime of no good morning kisses if you asked me to. as long as i get to wake up next to you every morning." (read 'sleeping with the enemy' here)

you scoffed at satoru's cheesy comment before kissing him again to shut him up. you were ready to venture into the next step of your life with satoru by your side—no good morning kisses and all.

EXTRA:

“we’re gonna have to find a place to live in after graduation.” you said with apprehensive tone. not only did you and satoru have to find an apartment for the two of you, the apartment had to fit megumi, tsumiki, your spirit birds and the demon dogs too.

“it will be fine,” satoru reassured you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

you bit your lip, lost in thought. you wanted to make sure that the apartment you chose would be a safe haven for megumi and tsumiki. it had to be a home filled with love. ever since you and satoru took them in, you made sure that they grew up with everything they needed. whatever they wanted, you and satoru provided with no hesitation.

“you already know that the two pipsqueaks will be happy wherever we end up.” satoru said softly, “they just want to be with us.”

"you mean tsumiki just wants to be with us." you laughed, "megumi does not want to be next to you."

"i'll win him over, just you wait." satoru said confidently.

you knew deep down that megumi actually really admired satoru, but he would never admit that to his sensei's face.

"since we're on the topic of a place to live, we just need to make sure that our room is on the opposite side of the apartment from the kids' room."

you glared at satoru, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. he held his hands up in the air, feigning innocence.

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[sebscore]

if you feel comfortable doing so, how do you think the grid would react if gzd was going through a rough patch and she’s being like really quiet and in her head?

i’m kinda slipping back into this era and i just need the grids comfort

THIS IS ALL I NEVER WANTED

pairing: lando norris x driver!reader / daniel ricciardo x driver!reader / sebastian vettel x driver!reader / lewis hamilton x sebastian vettel

warnings: reader feels defeated and is ready to give up. swearing. mention of sexism.

author’s note: the comfort fic is finally hear, lmao :) sorry that it took me this long, got caught up with gentle hit, but it’s here now !!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''That's the car of Y/L that goes into the gravel- another DNF for the young driver.'' Crofty commented as he watched her retire from the fight for the third consecutive race. 

Meanwhile in the car, Y/N's radio was bombarded by her engineer. ''We're so sorry, Y/N. A podium was possible, but we'll keep pushing harder for next time. We'll debrief.'' Marco apologised, frustration and guilt audible in his voice. 

''Understood.'' The indifferent tone came as a surprise to the team and viewers, but it was understandable as the driver hadn't been able to finish a race in over a month. 

The ride back to the paddock was humiliating to say the least. The pitiful looks from fans, the judging eyes of critics and the loud whispers didn't do much to brighten the dark cloud that was her mind. 

Her post-race interviews also weren't a great help to her already declining confidence. 

''It's the third consecutive DNF for you- how are you managing to stay positive and to not lose hope in the car?'' Nathalie asked her, sounding compassionate. 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. ''Nothing is positive at all,'' she sarcastically chuckled, ''I think I'm doing everything right and then it all goes wrong for some reason.'' 

''I'm working hard with the team, but it doesn't seem like it's paying off at the moment. I'm just very disappointed and I- yeah, well, I hate the car.'' 

The reporter in front of her wasn't used to the visible pessimism of the female driver. Y/N was known for her cheerful and up-beat character, always open for a chat and ready to take on any challenge. That figure seemed to be missing at the moment. 

''I hope it gets better for you, Y/N. You're an amazing driver and I wish you good luck for the next race weekend, thank you so much for talking to us.'' Nathalie rounds up the interview before signalling to her cameraman to stop the filming. 

Y/N was about to leave, but a gentle grab of her wrist stopped her. ''Hey, darling- don't let this get you down, alright? There are many people rooting for you here, me included, and we all want to see you do well. You have incredible talent and we know these lasts results aren't a reflection of that.'' 

The Sky Sports presenter had a soft spot for the young woman ever since her arrival to the paddock. Nathalie has always been amazed by Y/N's ability to shrug off all the sexist remarks and to prove the people that doubt her wrong. 

''Thanks, I appreciate it.'' The soft smile on Y/N's face was a fake one, even a child could spot that. However, her words and gratefulness were genuine and that's all that mattered to Nathalie. 

The driver moved quickly between the different journalists, not in the mood for the long and lovely chats that would have happened had she crossed the chequered flag. ''If one more person reminds me of all the DNF's, I'm going to knock myself out with one of these microphones.'' She mumbled to her team's press officer, making the woman laugh but also look at Y/N with a bit of concern. 

Luckily for her, all the media responsible people must have listened to her prayers and went easy on her- maybe sensing her agitation and worsened mood. She and her press officer moved back to the team's hospitality, where a dreaded team briefing would take place. 

''Obviously these aren't the results that we want. We want wins, podiums and points.'' Her team principal started off the meeting, standing at the head of the table. ''It is clear that changes need to be made, whether that be the car, the strategy or the driver even.'' The eyes of the team shifted from their leader to the young woman staring daggers at him. 

''It's not my fault that the fucking engine blows up or that another drivers decides he wants to play bumper cars.'' Y/N defended herself, not seeing why she should be replaced. 

He shook his head. ''I didn't say it was your fault, but we have to look at all the options and that includes you, Y/N.'' The man clarified, taking a deep breath. 

The woman rolled her eyes, causing Marco to send her a stern look that said ''Please, don't make this harder on yourself.'' She got his sign and sat up straight in her chair, figuring her slumping didn't give off a great impression. 

The briefing continued for another hour, going over all the alternatives they had and all the work they had to do while waiting for the next race weekend. ''Alright- thank you, everyone! Have a great break.'' The team principal dismissed the team. 

Y/N was the first one to get up and leave, debating if she would slam the door, but she didn't want a Kevin x Guenther moment with her boss. 

By the time she was on her way to her hotel, most fans had gone home themselves and the paddock was occupied by crew members cleaning the place up. Y/N had a slow pace while walking, not in any hurry to leave the circuit. 

''You're going back to the hotel?'' A voice behind her spoke up, making the female driver yelp as she didn't expect someone to walk up on her. 

Y/N turned around, Lando looking at her with a grin. ''Did I scare you?'' He laughed, finding amusement in making his friend flinch. 

''You could have been a serial killer for all I know, you idiot.'' She slapped his arm, the tension leaving her body as it was only Lando and not some creep. 

''Only on track.'' He winked. 

The young woman frowned at his action. ''Please, never do that again.'' Her feigned disgust with his wink resulted in a light push from her friend. 

''So… you're going to the hotel now?'' Lando asked her again, not having received an answer yet. 

Y/N nodded. ''Yeah, I could use some sleep before the flight tomorrow.'' 

''You, uh, wanna take a car together to the hotel? You know- that way we're not wasting gas, I guess.'' He nervously asked, mumbling the question almost under his breath. 

''Sure,'' Y/N chuckled, ''Seb will be proud of us.'' 

They decided to take his car as she wasn't in the mood to drive anymore and Lando didn't seem to mind. She was grateful for Lando's company, at least her bad day would end on a good note. 

''Sorry about the race today, I know you could have done more.'' Despite being competitors, they were also great friends and it's not fun seeing your friends have bad results. 

Y/N sighed. ''My team- they're, uh, thinking about replacing me.'' She wanted to get her worries off of her chest and Lando bringing up the race seemed like the perfect oppurtunity for it. 

''What?'' He exclaimed, not anticipating that sentence to come out of her mouth. 

''They say they just have to think about all the changes they could make to get better results, but they've been talking an awful lot about the junior drivers so I'm just preparing myself for it.'' She clarified for him, resting her head against the window. 

Lando let her words sink in. ''They- they can't possibly do that, you're one of the best drivers on the grid.'' It came out louder than he intended, but the thought of one of his best friends not being with him on track anymore upsets him. 

''They can do that,'' she sarcastically chuckled, ''I'm impressed I lasted this long- I just know the FIA will be throwing a party now that they don't have to be feminists anymore.'' 

''What do you mean 'lasted'? You're not going anywhere, we have enough races left where you can show your true skills.'' Lando took his eyes off the road to look her in the eye, perhaps wanting her to see how serious he was. 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, not wanting to talk about it any further. 

The car stopped in front of a red light. ''Hey,'' Lando put his hand on top of hers, ''I'm being serious. We've been racing against each other for over 10 years now- you're a good driver. You'll probably be a World Champion one day.'' 

''You really mean that?'' Her usual confident demeanour had been traded in for an insecure one, her voice coming out smaller than normal. 

He chuckled, nodding his head. ''Of course, I wouldn't lie to you.'' The gentle way he was looking at her assured her that he was in fact being serious and meant everything he said. 

''Thank you,'' Y/N turned her hand and squeezed Lando's, ''now, shut up and drive me to the hotel!'' She pushed his hand away. ''Enough of this emo shit.'' 

''This is the one time I am being nice to you and you just reject my love.'' 

''Stop being so emotional, Norris.'' 

''There she is!'' Daniel loudly announced as Y/N stepped onto the plane, his hands up in the air. 

She tiredly waved at everyone, exhausted from the lack of sleep she had gotten. The young woman groggily sat down next to her Australian colleague, Michael sitting in front of them. 

Daniel snickered at her disoriented state. ''Good morning to you, mate.'' He greeted her, his infamous bright smile on his face. 

''It's fucking early, what are you so happy about?'' She mumbled, while trying to find a good sleeping position. 

''I'm grateful that I get to live another beautiful day, Y/N! We don't appreciate our existence enough, we need to-''

''I'll be grateful for my life when you shut up and let me sleep.'' She interrupted him, closing her eyes and pulling her hat slightly over her face. 

The McLaren driver opted for another teasing comment, but he could see the obvious exhaustion she had going on and let her be, a light pat on the shoulder working as his way to say ''have a good nap''. 

About an hour later the turbulence of the plane woke her up from her much needed sleep. Y/N took her hat off and noticed Daniel still awake, scrolling on his phone while listening to music through his headphones. 

A soft push against his arm brought his attention from his device to the woman next to him, immediately smiling upon seeing that she's awake. ''Sleepyhead.'' 

The beam on his face slowly changed into a nervous frown, worrying his friend. ''What is it? The reality of life finally settled in?'' Y/N awkwardly said, trying to cheer him up. 

''No, uh, it's just that uhm interview you did with Nathalie yesterday- I watched it.'' He answered, sympathy written all over his face. 

''Oh,'' she sat up straight in her seat, ''well, you know it was just after the race so obviously I was very frustrated. You know how it is.'' The driver tried to come off as nonchalant, failing horribly. 

''Lando told me, Y/N.'' Daniel revealed, wanting her to drop the 'it's not a big deal'-act. 

She sighed. ''Oh, that little snake.'' She muttered under her breath. 

''No, I'm glad that he told me. He said he's never seen you so defeated and the way you were talking to Nathalie- you haven't given up, have you?'' Daniel had seen how her recent race results had affected her, but he wasn't aware how deep her frustrations and insecurities had settled in. 

Her silence to his question was an answer in itself. 

''You've been working your ass off since you were like what? 5-6? You're not gonna throw all of that away just because of 3 bad races, right? That's nothing like you.'' The Australian ranted, baffled over her ruined confidence. 

Y/N glanced outside her window, seeing they were high above the clouds. ''I'm not throwing anything away, it's just… my teams seems to have already made up their mind and are just waiting on the right time to tell me that someone else is taking my place.'' The young woman clarified, her words not helping Daniel's growing worries. 

''They would be fucking idiots to replace you, you know that.'' He sneered, rolling his eyes at the thought of another person driving in her seat. 

She weakly chuckled at his response, not finding much humour in the insult to her bosses. 

Daniel's shoulder gently pushed against hers. ''Hey, maybe you need to talk to Seb or Lewis, they're better at this pep-talk shit than I am.'' He suggested, figuring the two older men might have more of an influence on her. 

Y/N let his words process for a few seconds, considering seeking a listening ear in either of the world champions. ''I- I don't know, Dan. They probably have better things to do.'' 

''Like what?'' 

''I don't fucking know- planting trees, feeding Roscoe, whatever.'' She blurted out, making both of them laugh at the random activities they could be doing. 

''Just think about it, I think you'd feel a lot better after talking to one of them.'' Daniel didn't want to push her, knowing it would have the opposite effect on what he wanted for her. 

A tired smile made its way onto her face. ''I will, thank you.'' 

''Good,'' his face mirrored hers, ''and if they do replace you, they're just like Netflix.'' 

''Like Netflix?'' 

''A bunch of cunts.'' 

''I've never seen her that quiet.'' Sebastian mumbled to the Brit next to him, observing the young woman who sat slumped over in her chair. 

Lewis looked over at her, being as equally bewildered as his German colleague. ''I don't blame her, all the stuff they've been saying about her is awful.'' He whispered back. 

''What do you mean?'' Sebastian frowned. 

The Mercedes driver uncomfortably shifted in his head, leaning more towards his friend. ''People have been saying a lot of shit on social media and those fucking annoying journalists certainly don't help. Also, that interview their team principal did.'' 

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the mention. ''Hanna showed me, that was so out of line. He knows people have been wanting her out since the day she got in- shame on him for making all of that so public.'' 

Her team principal had given a quite lengthy interview over the break between the race weekends, publicising the team's problems and their possible solutions, which included a hint to a potential driver change-up. 

''None of the DNF's were even her fault, it's absolutely ridiculous.'' The slander on her name greatly upset Lewis, aware of the talent she possessed and it made him angry that there was even a chance that she might not be on the grid with them the next year. 

''I know and it has taken such a toll on her, Daniel said he talked to her, but I'm a little worried.'' The Aston Martin driver told Lewis, his puzzled look turning into one of sadness. 

The Brit scratched his voice. ''Maybe you can give her some confidence? You've known her for a long time, I'm sure she'll appreciate it.'' 

Sebastian slowly nodded his head, figuring the World Champion might be right. ''Yeah, I'll talk to her later.'' He confirmed, still watching the obvious daydreaming woman from across the room. 

The driver's briefing went on for about half an hour more, the director seeing the visible boredom on every person's face and calling it a day for everyone. 

Y/N couldn't have been more relieved that the meeting was finally over, wanting nothing more than going back to her own hospitality and figuring out ways to make the car work, and actually finish this time around. 

She was one of the last people to leave the briefing room, only George, Lewis and Sebastian walking behind her. The latter tapping her shoulder. ''Hey, haven't talked to you today.'' 

''Yeah, lots of briefings with the team, you know.'' The younger one responded, giving him a quick glance. 

''How's that going?'' 

The woman remained silent for a few moments, considering how much she should tell her mentor about the current state of her place in the team. ''Uhm, well, it's going… decent, I guess.'' Y/N muttered, trailing off. 

''Decent?'' Sebastian repeated, as if asking ''are you serious?'' 

''There are like a bunch of reporters around us, what do you want me to say?'' She replied, a defensive tone to her voice. 

The German patted her back, sensing her agitation. ''It's okay, let's discuss somewhere private.'' He calmed her down, suggesting a different place to have a conversation. 

''Okay.'' 

They opted for her personal driver's home, that being the closest space where they could talk with just the two of them. Some of her team's staff had given the Aston Martin driver some weird looks while they walked through the hospitality, but he brushed them off. 

The pair sat down on her small couch once they arrived, not much space between them. 

Y/N felt some nerves settling in her stomach as she waited for Seb to start speaking, not knowing what he was going to tell her. 

''I'm just gonna be straightforward,'' he started off, ''you can't continue with this attitude, cause you're only setting yourself up. You are a great driver, Y/N. We all have our off weeks, we're not perfect.'' 

''I understand that this isn't a nice situation to be in. Trust me, this green vegetable that I'm driving isn't doing much better at the moment,'' he chuckled, making her crack a smile, ''but if there's one person that can completely turn their season around, it's you.'' 

Y/N avoided eye-contact with him, not sure how to respond to his kind and encouraging words. ''I appreciate that, Seb. I'm not giving up, it's just… very difficult and people are constantly bringing it up, and making articles and shit- that doesn't help me at all. I'm still gonna do my best, but… yeah- it's just difficult.'' 

''I know it's hard and I've heard the media has been hard on you. That's what they do and they see you as an easier target for clicks and whatnot,'' Sebastian rolled his eyes at his own mention of the media, ''But you're better than believing their words.'' 

''You are a talented driver, you have so much potential. Do you think I would have spent all these years with you if I thought you shouldn't be in F1?'' He asked her, a look on his face that told her he wanted an answer. 

The young woman timidly shook her head. ''No, you wouldn't have done that.'' 

Sebastian smiled at her response. ''See?'' He put his arm around her, pulling her closer into him. ''Whether you believe it or not, you're leading this new generation. You're a decent car away from being a World Champion, you know that right?'' 

''Did you talk to Lando? He also said that.'' Y/N nervously grinned. 

''Just accept the truth!'' The German squeezed her shoulders. ''You've proven that you can do anything. You don't want to let down all those young girls that started karting because of you, right? What message would it send to all of them that their role model quit, because she got bumped off the road or her car simply decided to turn itself off.'' 

''You're right,'' she sighed, admitting to herself she needed to drop the pessimistic attitude, ''I don't just owe it to myself, but also to them.'' 

Sebastian nodded along to her words, letting out a deep breath. ''I'm relieved you're seeing it, I don't like seeing you like this. It's weird not seeing you smile or making fun of the drivers.'' He smirked, patting her shoulder. 

''I guess everyone deserved an off-day, tomorrow I'll start again.'' Y/N grinned, laughing at Sebastian's reminder of her fondness to poke fun at their colleagues. 

The senior driver gave her one last squeeze and stood up from the couch, adjusting his pants. ''No more frowns, alright? You're gonna do great this weekend and you're gonna show everyone why you deserve your seat.'' 

Y/N nodded, more confident than when she first walked back into her driver's room. ''Yes, I'm gonna do my best, Seb.'' 

They bumped their fists as if to solidify it was going to be a great race weekend for them both. 

''And go easy on me tomorrow with the teasing.'' 

''I'd rather be run off the track again then let that happen.''

taglist :: @cl16version @missskid @missthem @rosesintj @evans-dejong @thehistoryone @dreamycloudsworld @alonsogirlie @muushmeg @topguncultleader @the-great-adventures-of-me @love13tter @xcharlottemikaelsonx @kiwisa @starkwlkr @nora_moon @princesselle2111 @valluvsu @thatsadsmallchild @babyyoda89 @milkbreadforlife @fxllfaiiry @hc-dutch @its-ash-not-grey @princessbetsy123 @mehrmonga @nyenye @screechingtrashkid @ahnneyong @holybatflapexpert @itsnotgray @beautycinders @rowansshit @uhhevie @revengze @nylaslife @majx00 @multi-universe21 @jaydensluv @isasalom @gentlemonsterjennie1 @appledashhh @breathinfive @lighttsoutlewis @champomiel @ooooohmicky @koufaxx @flannelforthetoads

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#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #f1 x you #f1 oc #lando norris x you #daniel ricciardo x you #sebastian vettel x you #formula 1 fic #female f1 driver

[prettyboykatsuki]

HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO | PART 2

⊹ general tags ; fem + afab!reader, reader presents femininely and has some specific character traits (i.e. personality traits, nothing physical), reader is shorter / smaller than gojo but nothing specified, reader is a teacher, gojo carries reader at some point (but he is canonly able to do very insane things physically so)

⊹ content warnings ; dead dove. do not eat, yandere gojo satoru, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, workplace harassment (not from gojo), victim blaming, canon typical violence, graphic depictions of murder, minor character death, excessive religious imagery, coercion, gaslighting, abuse of power, something akin to stockholm syndrome, graphic depiction of noncon / sexual content, forced intimacy, fingering, hickies / bruises, begging, edging, loss of virginity, size kink, 18+.

all sexual content present in this part.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF NONCON, COERCION, AND SEXUAL VIOLENCE.

⊹ wc ; 18.4k / 36.1k

link to extended authors note | ao3 | how to be a dog, by andrew kane.

LINK TO PART ONE.

⊹ a/n ; here's part two!! miss ame has read it so im all good to post. i will upload to ao3 as soon as im awake i promise lol. hope you enjoy the fic and please heed the tags. likes and rbs always appreciated. also the last part is, relatively tame. the crazy gets amped up to ten so be careful.

⊹ synopsis ; with six eyes to see it becomes clear, you are being watched.

"You must learn, once you have sampled the freedom of a life without a chain, that it is better to return and be chained again. Or you may learn that it is not—a fugitive is also a kind of dog." - andrew kane, how to be a dog.

⊹ PART TWO : SOMETHING TAKEN IS BORROWED. SOMETHING RUINED IS YOURS. 

Snow is falling outside. The world is covered in white. 

Gojo Satoru sits on his hands and watches the blizzard outside from his window. His apartment is dark and there’s frost on his window. He can hear the wind from inside, and can feel the cold chill of glass as he stands close to it.  

Snow is falling outside. The world is covered in white. Spring feels like an innocent century ago. 

Nothing’s changed, but everything is different. It’s starting to feel comedic. It’s so cyclical. He has two states of being. Being with you, and not. It dictates his internal world. He functions the same as usual. Repetition. Working, coming home, and waiting. 

Gojo feels like he’s waiting. Perpetually waiting for time to set again so he can see you. There’s something in him only you can fulfill - an itch only you can scratch. Gojo is drawn to irreplaceable people, so perhaps it’s no surprise that he’s latched onto you this way. 

There’s nothing to call it other than greed. Sometimes love, but mostly greed. A habit he can’t break free from. Gojo wants to see you. He doesn’t know why either. There’s not any particular reason. Or if there is, he hasn’t examined it too deeply. Gojo has always known in some innate way that he’s lonely. That his loneliness makes him untouchable - but not in the same way it might make a God. 

The thought of doing anything without you makes paranoia creep up in his throat like bile. Gojo is that sort of lonely. Is it too much to ask to be next to someone, who never goes anywhere he can’t see? Monopolizing your time and all the ways to do it best take up most of his energy. 

When was the last time anyone made him feel warm, in the cold white of winter? He thinks maybe he realized it too late, that he cares about you this much. 

The reality is that Jujutsu Sorcerers are better off learning how to cut their losses. You love people and they die. You like people and they die. Gojo doesn’t think he can accept that from you so easily. He doesn’t think he should have too.

Does he need a good reason to want to keep you?

Gojo doesn’t want to make you hate him. He just wants to make sure you’re alive even if it means you might hate him. You might never understand either. Because you are still foolish, naive and human. Is that really asking for so much?

It makes him hesitate from the call to action. That instinct in his bones. He sees having met you as a blessing from the Heavens who’ve banished him. Gojo Satoru is not god. He understands God, but he’s not God.

No matter how much Gojo reaches for omnipotence, his long fingers can’t stretch towards it. Godliness is uninhabitable, an abandoned house. If Gojo casts his eyes on you for more than one second, he can do nothing but long. How can God long? Perhaps if he were more godlike, he could treat your inevitable death like a sacrifice. A martyrdom, or proof of your undying love for him.

Despite that, he understands how God's love can reach. Inciting violence to bring you closer to him is merciful. It’s only then you’ll come to understand it to the highest extent. That Gojo loves you after all, more than anything mortal in his world. He can hold all of you in his hands, keep you safe for the rest of your life. It’s what he wants so badly. If you just give him the chance to protect you - he could do it so easily. 

Religion can be so much like a dog and its master. Maybe, you could understand Gojo’s feelings if you saw it as an animal instinct to protect you. Even if it’s a falsity, a fictitious tale, detached from what's true. 

He doesn’t want you to hate him. He’s your watch dog, your keeper, your divine love. He needs you all to himself and he needs you to understand that you’re his reprieve. That in a universe decided by fate, the two of you are also red strings knotted together perversely. 

He needs you. He needs you. He needs you. 

Snow is falling. 

__

Come Saturday, Gojo receives a knock on his door. 

He’s usually sleeping in on the weekends, so he’s startled by it. School doesn’t start till later and if it was an emergency relating to sorcery - Yagi would’ve dialed him personally. He answers the door with sleep still in his, rubbing his eyelids as he yawns. He’s dressed in his P.J.’s with his hair messy and mind jumbled. 

He’s not unhappy though, when he opens the door up to see you. You’ve got something in your arms, a bag it looks like and a look on your face that Gojo can’t decipher. 

“Oh,” He says after registering who he’s talking to you “What’re you doing here so early?” 

You sigh, deeply, rubbing your arm. That anxious little habit again, your eyes darting every which way.

“A pipe broke in my apartment. Like, flooded the whole thing. Spent the whole morning scrounging my stuff together a-and I called maintenance but they won’t be here for a while and.” You stutter as you explain yourself and Gojo stares at you in confusion “I need a place to stay but going back to my parents right now is gonna be so hard and plus there’s work,” 

Gojo soothes you silently, putting a hand up. 

“Hey, calm down,” He says first, smiling up at you. He reaches out to pat your head “I’m here. It’s okay. Slow down and tell me what's wrong?” 

You sigh, closing your eyes and bracing yourself. 

“Would it be alright if I stayed with you? Just for a few days, until I figure this all out?” 

If God exists, maybe this is his way of giving Gojo grace. Gojo takes a minute to pretend, leans against his door frame and watches you fidget anxiously. He blinks at you, the way your teeth are pressing into your lip. You fold underneath the pressure of his gaze easily. He hums and haws.

“Hm,” He says, leaving you uncertain for as long as he can before you try to react. He’s memorized all your tells by heart “Well, there’s no reason not to, right? You’ll have to sleep in my bed though.” 

He half-jokes, but not really. He waits on your reaction. 

“Oh, uhm, then,” 

He interrupts just then, raising his voice. You jump back. 

“Just kidding! Of course you can stay with me. I’ll take the couch for a few days so don’t worry your pretty little head about it, okay? Stay as long as you like.” 

You look relieved. It makes Gojo smile a bit watching you take a deep breath, leaning on the door frame as he stares. 

“What?” You ask when you notice. He shakes his head. 

“It’s cute when you get nervous,” He says, inhibitions lowered. You pout at him and Gojo has to stop himself from reaching forward to grab your face in his hands. 

“You’re so mean,” You say with a sigh, arms crossed over your chest “I was really freaking out just now,” 

“I know, I know - but it’s kinda fun watching you fuss. Dunno. Maybe it’s cause I’m sleepy,” 

“You're wide awake right now!” You point out. He snorts. 

“Noo, what? I’m half-asleep right now,” 

“Gojo,” You whine, and he has to stop the blood rushing through his body “Let me in? Please?” 

“Try Satoru. Sa-to-ru,” He says. You frown at him, sighing as you rub your face. 

“Satoru,” You say, hardly getting the syllables out “L-let me in,” 

He pats your head one more time as your frown deepens. 

“Good girl,” He purrs, before switching his tone to a more lax one as he welcomes you “Come on in!” 

Another sigh of relief. Gojo finds it fascinating that you can find relief in his presence. It speaks to how well he’s been doing to make sure he’s acting in accordance to expectations. Despite how easy the opportunity has fallen into him, he doesn’t think it’s time yet. You’re still skittish.

Still, he should get something out of your stay here. And he will, but he should let you settle in first. He gives you a hum as you shuffle inside, standing awkwardly in his living room. He shuts the door behind you and locks it up. 

“Don’t be so stiff,” He says, waving a hand in the air before yawning “My home is your home. Be comfortable. Is there anything you need or wanna do?” 

“Could I borrow your shower?” 

Gojo feels something pressing into his ribs at the idea of you using his things  - sharp and sinful. 

“I was gonna shower this morning but, y’know.” You gesture vaguely. He’s quick to agree of course, nodding his head as he points in the general direction of the bathroom.

“Pretty sure our places are built the same so you should know where it is. The towels on the rack are all clean. Feel free to use anything in there and uhhh,” He scratches his head unsure of what else he needs to add. Though he’s certain he’s missing something “Oh, and I’ll give you some clothes,” 

You flush at the sentiment. So maybe you do know what this seems like, at least on the surface. Gojo peers at you as you turn his words over, interjecting before you have a chance to refuse. 

“Don’t say no,” He says, voice sing-songy. watching your expression morph into something nervous again. Maybe you caught it, because you certainly jump in your skin, but he switches into himself with ease.  Over and over and over - startling you never gets less fun “Let me play out my domestic fantasies a bit as compensation,” 

“That’s a bad joke,” You say, throat thick.

 You want to trust him don’t you? He wants to praise you for that. 

“Aw, c’mon. It’s lonely. Let me indulge a little,” He begs with enough lightheartedness that you don’t run away. 

“Geez. I thought you were popular with the ladies,” You try and joke back, though it’s stilted and awkward. He can tell you’re getting prepared to squeeze to the  bathroom before the conversation is too much. 

“Old ladies do love me,” He says contemplative. You elbow him lightly. 

“Stupid.”

He gives you a soft smile as you pass by him.

“Is there anything else that you need while you’re in there?” 

“I don’t think so,” You reply back. Gojo watches you disappear into the hall, trailing after you silently. He waits, listening carefully for the sound of the shower to turn on. 

When the water rushes, he follows you. 

He almost has a conscious standing in front of the closed door. The water pressure in his apartment is a little higher than it’s supposed to be. The closed walls keep all the noise inside them, making it almost impossible to hear what’s going on outside. Even with heightened senses like him. 

For someone like you, it’s probably impossible. 

It’s knowing that he follows behind you, lying in wait. He counts up to 5  minutes as he waits, letting you settle into it before he puts his hand on the door knob. He finds it unlocked. He’s pleased with that. 

You trust him, or you try too. 

When he feels certain you’re relaxed, he opens the door. He could teleport in but it’s noisy. Steam plumes outward as the door opens. He looks around the bathroom. Your clothes are folded neatly, with your pants hanging on the rack next to you. 

He stares at the fabric for a long time, contemplating what he has time for. 

Ultimately, he suppresses whatever urges come up to do what he came for. Too many to count and even more that are risky to act on. Instead, he checks the tags of each piece, committing it to memory. After, he stares at the shower curtain until he’s sure he overstayed his welcome. 

He leaves right after though, shutting the door just as quietly as he opened it. 

The less you know the better. Gojo makes his way back into the living room. 

He sits on his couch when he’s back. The sun hasn’t come up yet and he’s only turned on a single lamp for light. It’s hard for him to describe how he’s feeling. Things have been different for weeks now, but proceeding normally hasn’t caused him too many issues. Strangely the sense of routine has been grounding. 

He’s been dealing with it better than he expected. For all of that restraint to unravel so quickly is funny.

 But, Gojo thinks, that everything leading up to now must’ve been a sign. There are so many instances that befall him that feel aligned with fate. He’s naive in thinking you're different. He’s the only heir of the Gojo clan, the only one with the Six Eyes for nearly 400 years. He hears the water rush faintly through the walls of his apartment, picturing you trapped in those four walls. He thinks of how you met. Your proximity to each other.

It’s only now and in such circumstances does he think that you’re the due that the universe is paying back to him. Robbed of everything, of every joy he’s ever had - it’s both righteous and fair to take you. Gojo doesn’t want you to hate him. Not necessarily. 

But they always say in sickness and in health. Through the best of times and the worst. If you were made for him like he suspects (like he knows, believes deep down) then he thinks it’ll be fine. As long as it's you. As long as it’s yours. Even if you cry or scream, what matters to Gojo is that it’s yours. That he’s yours. 

Holding back is starting to be too much. Gojo’s never been the type to sit on his hands and wait. Being scared is so much like starving. Deprivation like that always threatens to turn Gojo to ruin. 

But like anything he does though, he can’t take the easy way out. There’s a method to the madness. An order even among his most disorderly actions, there’s things that need to be done the right way for the best possible outcome. On less of a whim than it seems, Gojo decides that he’ll do his best to make that reality happen. 

The thought settles in his body and suddenly he’s present again. He feels a pang of hunger in his stomach, causing him to stand to his feet. He feels lighter as he waltzes into the kitchen, whistling to himself on what he should make. Maybe crepes? He’s not a skilled cook but he’s pretty good at making those. 

At the very least, he thinks you’ll like them too. He proceeds into a normal-ish routine. He follows the motions of making breakfast as he hums to himself silently. Grabs a bowl from the cupboard, eggs and milk from the fridge, and flour from the pantry. 

He thinks to himself, immersing himself in the practical ritual. His comment from earlier about domestic fantasies was a half-joke at best. Gojo really does want to do this kind of thing with you, and he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to play the part either. Even if it’s temporary. He’s giddy at the thought of doing this with you everyday, a warm fluttery feeling spreading through his body. 

He grabs a whisk off of the wall as he dumps everything into an empty bowl, turning the heat of a non-stick low. He whistles a song he can’t remember the name of, cracking an egg on the metal edge. 

Despite living in a nicer part of Tokyo, Gojo has yet to have an induction stove top. It’s not uncommon to have gas for smaller, cheaper apartments. Most of the stovetops in the Jujutsu Tech dorms are gas and Gojo has no issue using them. He doesn’t cook for himself often in the first place, so he’s never thought to complain about it or get it changed. 

Maybe he should. Once you live here, it might get inconvenient. The thing about gas stoves is that they never heat evenly. It’s not impossible to work with, and the heat is easier to control - but induction lets every inch of the pan get hot the same way.

( He often thinks of the analogy for boiling a frog. If you put anything living in heat too directly, it’ll jump to save itself. But if you keep the heat tepid, gently raising the heat till it boils - it’ll let itself stay in the treacherous waters until the very end. It’s best to keep the heat even. It’s best to fix it sometime soon. )

The whisk makes a pleasant sound as it hits the bowl, metallic scratch softened by the presence of batter. He picks the whisk up and watches the yellow liquid drip off the edge, a hand over the pan. Still too cool to the touch, he clicks his teeth. 

He waits, idly. The shower turns off, he hears, and feels his breath hitch. He has to steel himself, curb his enthusiasm. 

Too much heat, and you’ll jump to save yourself. 

Once the pan is hot enough, Gojo busies himself with cooking.  It helps him distract himself, the monotony of pouring and flipping and waiting. He gets through almost 6 before he hears your feet pad gently across his hardwood floor, slipping into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around your neck.

You’re wearing what seems like the only clothes you managed to bring. Gojo wonders how long it’ll last you. Despite it, he notices the way you smell. How you smell like all of his fancy bath products and soaps. There’s a twitch in his sweats that he barely gets under control. He lowers the heat and turns to you. 

“Morning,” He says. You giggle a little. 

“Morning. Are you making breakfast?” 

“Yes ma'am. The only thing I know how to make but,” He puffs his chest up “Pretty good, I’m told.” 

You roll your eyes at him, but smile anyway

“Guess I’ll be the judge of that,” 

“The audacity,” He says, full of theatrics “I’ll knock your socks off,” 

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” You say, flippant and giggly. Gojo decides then, maybe, in its entirety. That he’ll have all of you and soon “Can I help with anything?”

“Get started on some coffee maybe,” 

You nod your head and yawn. 

“Sounds good to me,” 

__ 

You decide to stay for a week. 

More precisely, Gojo convinces you to stay for a  week. That’s how long it will take for your apartment to get fixed completely. Concerned about inconveniencing him, you initially suggested 3 days - insisted you could find somewhere else or pay for a hotel for the rest of the time.

But Gojo insisted too. A week is more than fine (even longer would be better) and there’s no reason for you to go out of your way. Hotels are expensive, your parents live out in the countryside, and it’s not like you can’t board with a friend for a few days right? 

But won’t that trouble you? Of course not. Gojo doesn’t mind at all. It’s like having a week-long sleep-over. 

I don’t have the stuff I need. That’s fine. Gojo can take care of it. He already bought some clothes for you, an act of kindness. He can get the rest too. You can consider it a favor, if you really want to be sure. 

Are you sure? Of course he’s sure. More than sure. You’re doing him a big favor, he assures with nothing but affection. Being alone at home is pretty boring, anyways. What’s sleeping in the same room when we’re neighbors? 

Even with your unease, you agree to stay the whole week. You’re weak to being convinced, and hard-pressed on not fighting about things Gojo is adamant on. 

(He’d be stupid not to notice how your earnesty makes you easy to exploit. It’s a good thing it’s only Gojo who knows.) 

The first day passes quietly. You and Gojo go to your respective jobs and greet each other when you get home. At home, things are simple. Domestic. There’s no other way to view it. You graded papers and looked over lesson plans in the living room while Gojo got in his daily sets - TV playing in the background with neither of you particularly tuned in. Gojo sleeps on the couch. 

(He doesn’t make it a day without touching himself. The proximity is too much, too stimulating, and even with all of the restraint in the universe - it’s hard for him to stave it off.  What you don’t know can’t hurt you. Alone under the moon, he thinks of what you look like when you’re embarrassed and spills into his hand. 

Eventually, he’ll graduate to watching over you. You leave the door unlocked because you’re naive and Gojo stands with his cock in his fist, watching intently. You squirm in your sleep but you sleep deeply - because despite all the noise, you don’t stir one even once. He stops it from touching you, so close to your mouth, to your skin. ) 

On the second day of living together, the clothes Gojo bought you come to his door. You’re not home when it arrives, so he waits until you are home to open it with you. You come home a little later than usual (parent-teacher conferences, apparently). 

(“I have a surprise for you!” Gojo says, as finally comes back into the living room. You’ve returned from your shower, on  your last pair of PJ’s. You blink at him softly, tilting your head to one side as he hands you a package. 

“For me?” You ask. Gojo nods, grinning. 

“For you,” He confirms. He walks with you as you set the box onto the coffee table. You stare at it for a minute, glancing up at Gojo. Your eyes search for your keys. Once you find them, you take the sharpest key and rip through the tape on the top of its sides. An unceremonious krrk sounds through the room, echoing in the dimly lit living room. 

The clothes are wrapped in white, plastic packaging. You pick them individually, examining them closely. You look at Gojo again, more uncertain than before.

But Gojo shakes his head, nudging you towards opening the packages themselves. A promise to explain afterwards, silent in the air. You nod, confused, but do as he suggests. You rip the top open, dropping the thin plastic onto the table. More bags, this time clear. You repeat the action until the material flounces in your hands. You undo the careful folding for a minute, then stare at it. 

“...Clothes?” You repeat. 

“Surprise!” He says with his usual silly cadence “For you, free of charge.” 

A lot of things pass over your expression. Gojo watches each of them carefully, amused. He wonders what you’ll do. What you’re thinking, it’s a shame Gojo can’t read your mind.

“How’d you know my size?” You say first, inquisitive but not accusatory. Gojo shrugs. 

“Guessed. We’ve spent enough time together,” He says noncommittally. Your face changes, like you don’t quite believe him. But there’s not enough there for you to question him either. He can almost hear you narrate it in your head. The heart you wear on your sleeve, tender red and bleeding, thumps anxiously as you try to get a read on him. It’s not a sound he dislikes. 

He’s been good to you. He’s just being nice. You shake your head, regretful of your own doubt for a minute. You force a smile, and Gojo doesn’t hate it even though he knows where it comes from. 

The power of love, he thinks almost whimsically. 

“This is a big box. How much stuff did you even get?” You repeat, noticing the contents are up to the top. He feigns indifference. Pretends not to know that he spent countless hours looking over it. 

“Mm, dunno. Just whatever I thought you’d need.” 

“I’m only here for a week, Gojo.” You mutter, hands grazing over the cardboard edge.

“So? Maybe you need a lot of stuff. I don’t know what women go through.” He says with a pout, lips together. Joking with you to lighten the mood, which makes you huff through your nose. 

“You’re so dumb. It’s too much stuff,”

“I already bought it and I don’t feel like returning it,” He tells you, making it clear he’s not going to negotiate “Just think of it as a gift from Santa Claus.”

You snort. 

“You even have the hair,” You reply. Trying to make yourself feel better in the process, Gojo gives you a half smile “Still. I feel like I’m really indebted to you, lately.” 

“Yeah? You can count this week as one big favor, if that makes it easier.” 

“I don’t remember Santa doing favors for people,” You quip. Gojo laughs. 

“Change in management,” 

You laugh a real laugh at that, and Gojo watches you turn the situation over again and again. 

“Well. Thank you. Might as well look through the rest of it, huh?” 

“Take your time,” Gojo says, before checking the digital clock on his wall “I need to go get something from the store. Just leave the empty stuff next to the trash and I’ll take it out tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh, okay. Yeah. I’ll start on dinner. See you, Gojo.” 

“Yeah. See you” ) 

If you notice all the clothes come in shades of blue, you’re smart enough not to say anything. 

The third day passes in a blur. Nothing notable, but he’s content. You wear the clothes Gojo bought you and he’s careful not to stare while you know. He takes it upon himself only to do it when he knows you’re asleep, his nightly routine staring over the bare inches of your body in a dark room being a reprieve of his other desires. 

On the fourth day, he doesn’t have the restraint not to touch you. Too many days in the same room and he wants access to everything already. He hates being patient more than he thought, but there’s a method to this - he has to remind himself. 

Like taking out his aggression, he decides he needs more relief. Something to scratch the itch. With his infinity, you can’t feel his fingers ghosting over your legs. He checks if you’re wearing the other stuff he bought, settled at the bottom of the box. Not lingerie, but panties. Plain and cottony - white over your cunt as you sleep with your leg hiked up. Gojo knows you can’t feel him now, but part of him wants you too. He wants to know why you’re wearing them despite yourself. Gojo realizes too late that he’s interested in your misery just as much as he is everything else, and so far - that discovery has made everything all the more difficult. 

On the fifth day, things proceed the same. There’s a routine you’ve settled into together despite the time limit on it. That night over dinner, you and Gojo spend time together. There’s not really much to do - it’s a Friday. It’s the first time neither of you are completely occupied with any one task. 

You get to talking like that. On the fifth day, Gojo gets as close to opening up as he’s ever gotten in his life. Part of him isn’t sure why he does it. He thinks he’s seeking confirmation for something, but what that could be is lost on him. 

(“So, you’re the only person left in your clan?” You ask, half-way through a glass of tea he’s sure has gone cold by now. The T.V. is on but muted. Gojo looks at you in the low lights, fighting his own sleep.

“Mhm. Technically, I’m the sole heir.” He replies.

“...Is it okay to ask what happened?” 

Gojo laughs at you. You really can’t help your curiosity, but he still finds it amusing.

“It’s not a pretty story,” Gojo says honestly. 

“That’s okay,” You say, voice filled with an air of innocence that Gojo has a hard time wrapping his head around. 

“Most of them were wiped out. We had a lot of enemies, me included. A lot of them are dead, the remaining are somewhere far-away and have no combat abilities.” 

“You included?” You pick up on, naturally. Gojo nods and smiles a little. 

“Once I inherited my technique it was pretty commonplace. I went through a lot of assassination attempts,” He yawns in between, because this is an old, boring story “It took a lot of time for me to get strong enough to where I am now. But I got there eventually.” 

“You say that so easily,” 

Gojo peers at the frown on your face and laughs quietly to himself. 

“It was a long time ago, now. I never really had a lot to mourn, except for when I was a teenager. I’m used to it.” 

For a long time, you remain completely silent. Gojo almost thinks you’re going to cry. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. It’s proof of something. Of his ambivalence towards the idea of sympathy. Sure, it’s meaningless now for someone to feel bad for him. It’s a pointless endeavor, because Gojo is a selfish dick and the strongest - and he knows both of those things intimately. He accepts them as part of himself in the same way, he doesn’t know what he’s like without being frivolous. Without being the strongest. The line between misery and character is paper thin and Gojo hasn’t known it since he was born. 

It’s especially pointless for you to feel bad for him, because he’s going to ruin that very innocence you hold in your heart before the week is over. He’s going to do it with purpose and conviction. He won’t feel remorseful about it at all. 

There’s an irony to it. A dramatic irony that brings him closer to Godliness than he’s ever really been. Because Gojo knows that this conversation is confirmation that he needs you, just as much as he knows he’ll do anything to have you even if it means you can no longer look at him like this. 

He wonders how long you’ll hold sympathy for him. He decides for now, there’s no reason to not lean into it. It makes him happy that you care enough to feel sad. Even if it’s pointless. He doesn’t remember the last time someone did. 

Maybe when he was 17.

“You look like you’re gonna cry.” He says lightheartedly. Sincere in a way he hasn’t been in very well over 10 years. You sniffle. 

“How are you not crying?” 

“I never cry.” Gojo says smoothly, not blinking “I’m a heartless bastard.” 

“That’s not true.” You say, almost exclaim, turning yourself to look at him so seriously. It’s cute, he must admit, that you’re so sure on his character “You’re not heartless,” 

“But I am a bastard,” He clarifies, mischievous. And you pout, less eager to correct him on that 

“...You’re not heartless. Clearly.” You say again. Gojo laughs, a real laugh. He can feel it preemptively, how much he’ll cherish every minute of this conversation. He hums. 

“Oho, you almost sound like you’re defending me.” 

“From yourself, I guess. I know you’re not heartless,” You say, with some kind of clarity that you have him figured out. Maybe you do. It’s a little shocking. It’s not usually how this goes “You’re…weird. But you care” 

“That’s true,” Because it is, and Gojo has no reason to lie to you right now. “More than that, I’m hung up on the idea of the future.” 

“Isn’t it usually being hung-up on the past?” 

“Right? Usually, that’d be the case,” Gojo says, unsure of what to express “But the past is the past. I can’t go back to it. My technique is infinity. It means I can see infinite realities.” 

You sound like the winds been knocked out of you “That’s terrifying,” 

“It is. But you know, even in those realities, the past is the past. There are places where the past hasn’t happened. But it can’t be changed. It becomes part of infinity, when events occur. The only thing that can be changed is the future,” Gojo explains, though he leaves out so many intricacies “There’s a future I want to see. I’d like if my students could see it too,” 

“Because of your friend, right?” 

Gojo smiles. 

“Because of my friend. And for less selfless reasons.” 

“Like?” You ask, curious. 

“I like being able to do whatever I want, without consequences. Being strong lets me do that. For now it’s up to me, but eventually, I can raise strong comrades.” 

You’re silent for a while, again. 

“Seems lonely,” You say, simply. Easily. It’s true, and he knows that. It’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you’ve said it with little regard for anything. Almost mindlessly, a natural response to such a sad story. 

Gojo feels it again. Those stifling, pesky emotions that linger in the cavity of his ribs. He can’t bring himself to be honest, because when does he ever? But he does smile again, a little more melancholy than usual. You notice, certainly, but you have the courtesy not to say a word. 

“You think so?” Gojo says, passive and wilfully ignorant “Does it make you wanna hug and console me?”

He offers it sarcastically, but you don’t tear your eyes away from him. It’s almost enough to shake him. Almost. 

“...A little? You feel like a sad dog in the rain.” You say, too honestly.

“Jeez. Maybe you just miss Pokupan. Thinking about another man right in front of me. I can’t believe I’m the other woman,” He says, with a faux pout. 

You laugh, though it’s laced with sympathy. Gojo can tell you want to fuss. That you want to admonish him for being the way he is, and he’s almost willing to let you. That’s just the thing.

 You see Gojo as human, still. 

Gojo Satoru isn’t God. But he isn’t human either. If you want to know how God lives, asking Gojo is always viable. But you shouldn’t mistake false omnipotence for forgiveness, like you are now. You see Gojo for all of his humanity, but you're blind to his divinely violent tendencies. You will be until it’s too late. 

So, Gojo doesn’t think you need to comfort him how you’re thinking you should. Gojo wants you to depend on him. Because coveting you is an affair distinctly inhuman and crueler than even the heavens could be and he believes that you’re owed to him. 

 Gojo wants to protect this version of you, even at the sake of corrupting it. He doesn’t want to let you go ever, for any reason. And he wont. 

He turns the heat up gently. You’re none-the-wiser. The night swallows you both, but Gojo will remain untouched. He’ll hold you when it inevitably spits you back out. When reality washes into you, you should’ve trusted your gut after all. 

For now, he smiles at you. 

“If it’s any consolation, I’d be very sad if you disappeared.” Which Gojo hopes you can interpret without his interference. It seems like you do, because you smile to yourself. 

“Me too,” You reply. Gojo knows he’s going to ruin you. “I’d be really sad if you disappeared, Gojo. So, don’t, okay?” 

And if Gojo were an honest person, or a good one - he’d tell you you’re the last person who should worry about missing him. That you’ll be seeing him for a long time. 

But he’s neither, just like he’s not god or man. He lightens his tone and holds out his pinky, which you link with his. 

“Scouts honor,”

When he’s ready to look away, you pull a bare thread from Gojo’s clothes. Frowning at him, as you dust away the fabric with your hand. He stares at you. 

“What was that?” 

“You had a thread loose,” You say simply, unconcerned with anything “I just pulled it off.” 

Gojo stares. 

“Yeah. Thanks.”) 

The sixth day passes quickly. Gojo doesn’t think there’s anything worthy of saying. By then the routine is so practiced and so constant. The sixth day passes like a shadow in the night, disappearing through the woods before morning comes. A stepping stone. 

Today is the 7th day. 

On the 7th day, things are different. The same but different as they so often are. You don’t have work today, so you do what you’ve been doing. You and Gojo work in proximity to each other, share meals, and idly watch T.V.  

Night falls on the 7th day.

Gojo wants to take part in the act of creation, as the sun dips below the horizon. He’d set this in motion when the week started and now that it’s here - the anticipation is too much to bear. When Gojo Satoru sets himself out to be conqueror, the universe trembles at the sight of him. There’s no sound at all. The night reeks of death, in Gojo’s presence it trembles. Too fearsome to speak. 

Night falls today. Gojo starts his usual routine with less caution than he’s had the previous six. Where he usually bides his time and enters the room carefully - today he merely enters. He places his hand on the silver handle and pushes it open. A breath rushes from his lungs, adrenaline entering his system as he steps inside. His room has felt so unfamiliar to him lately, but like this - a sense of serenity washes over him. 

He stares at you. With his Six Eyes, with vision clear as ever, Gojo looks onto you as you are now. You can never reconstruct a flower crushed under steel boots. You’re not mud or earth, not adaptable like the sea. From the moment he’s met you - Gojo has known you to be so much like a flower. Gojo has never wanted to take the petals off of something so much in his life. 

And Gojo is in this instance, a natural disaster ready to pluck the root of you up from the ground. He’ll pick you up in a storm but return you to his feet. There’s a method to this. Gojo stares at your silhouette wrapped and tangled in his sheets, body so loosely dressed. Your visible figure rests easy. 

The night is glorious and silent. Gojo watches on in some cross of indifference and utter starvation. He blinks, leans on the wall. 

Like a call from fate, you start to stir awake.

Gojo moves towards you. He decides it might be easier just to join you in bed,  so he gently works himself into the sheets.. He creeps towards you slowly, and re-familiarizes himself with the feeling of his bed. It’d be lost on him for a week, but your presence in it makes it feel especially brand new. The bed dips under his weight, creaking. You shift lethargically, turning your head to look at Gojo. 

You look startled once you realize. For the first time in your entire relationship, it seems to dawn on you that something is wrong. Just a minute too late. He gives you a second to wake up. Your breath hitches, a stifled gasp as you greet Gojo’s expression. 

The hunger in his stomach is gnawing. Gojo feels like he’s starving. He thinks doing this will only half-way relieve the urge. This part of Gojo is inhuman as the rest of him. 

Gojo’s presence suffocates you so much in the moment, you can only barely open your lips to say your next words. 

“What are you doing here?” You sound still innocent. Gojo smiles briefly, under the glow of the moon. He can see your expression clearly. Sleep in your vision. A sheerness to your skin that comes with rest. Your bags are packed, and your things are cleared from his bathroom. You’re still wearing the clothes he bought. 

He knows he shouldn’t think it, but some part of him is vindicated. You’re leaving him today and Gojo finds abandonment to be the highest betrayal of them all. So, he’s vindicated. He licks his teeth, usual mirth coming back to him. 

Then he talks, his voice tender. 

“Getting my debts repaid,” And he means it, more than he’s ever meant anything he’s said “You owe me one, remember?” 

It dawns on you. Realization flickers in your eyes before it twists into fear. Gojo wants to encourage it. A curse starts to form, like tendrils around you. You’ll leave it here when you’re gone in the morning and Gojo will have a piece of you left with him. 

“W-what are you…? What do you mean?” 

He’s shrill, almost, leaning close to you. His sudden proximity makes you freeze. You know better, know so clearly it stops you from running. Gojo is tempted to see if you’ll do it. If you’ll run or if you’ll thrash or if you’ll fight. He’s not particularly sadistic, but he likes you - and he’s curious to know what your reaction will be to something like this. 

He eases you into it, He brushes his knuckles over your cheek as your heart sky-rockets like you’re being hunted. Gojo thinks he ought to be gentle with you. Regardless of how this is happening, it’s your first time together. Your fingers tremble as you reach up to grab his wrist. It seems like you’re trying hard to pull him off, and wiggle away from his grip. You ready yourself to give him push back and Gojo times it so that it seems like you’ll be able to break free. 

But Gojo is strong. Stronger than you by a lot, and you know that by now. When he finds that you’re trying to escape him, he’s quick to grab your wrists with his hands. They both fit perfectly in his palms. He pulls them up over your head and your eyes widen as you feel his grip - near bruising (though he is trying so hard to be gentle) on your body. He stares down at you. 

You look so frightened.

“Wh-what are you..?” 

“You owe me one for letting you stay here, right?” He asks enthusiastically, licking his teeth. Your eyes widen “I’ll take this as compensation, okay? It’s a good deal for us both I think,” 

“I don’t,” You squirm underneath him “I don’t—I,” 

“Shh,” He quiets you, humming softly “Don’t overcomplicate it. Just wanna see you,”

Gojo watches you turn it over in your head. He was wondering about this. What’d you do in these circumstances. If you’d act like you always do, pleasant and pliable trying to do what's best. Damage control for what's coming. 

Gojo pulls his hands away to undress you and yours fly to his shoulder blades. You heave as you push, mumbling something about how he doesn’t need to do this. Your expression is grief-stricken. Gojo soothes you. 

“You can bite, scratch, kick, scream - whatever works,” Gojo says, communicating his affection as best he can. He drives his hands under your shirt, laying his palm flat over the skin of your stomach. He runs his thumbs over your sides, committing every inch of you to memory. Without his infinity, Gojo feels every part of you “It’s not gonna hurt me,” 

You look like you’re at a loss for words. He gives you a warm grin. 

“Maybe we’re going about this all wrong,” Gojo says after some thought “Is this your first time?” 

You whimper, nodding meekly. Gojo  groans against your skin. You flinch. 

“Fuck, course it is. Shoulda known. Such a sheltered girl like you,” He adds the last part with a hint of condescension, watching your face curl up into a frown. 

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing you know,” Gojo is careful as he pulls your shirt higher and higher. Your breath is being held, afraid of what’ll happen if you let g.o “We’re tied together like this. Isn’t that nice?” 

“Gojo,” You say, swallowing something. Words that threaten to bubble up that you can’t find the strength to say. You’re not wearing anything underneath and Gojo feels a chill in his spine “Please,” 

“Not wearing a thing even though you’ve been sleeping at a man's house all week,” He reprimands. He lets the material sit over the swell of your chest, just under your neck where it stays. He can see the outline of your tits clearly now, just enough light from the open window to illuminate your skin. Your nipples are hard, heaving. Gojo can hear your little heartbeat thump against your ribs “I’m not telling you off you know? I’m glad you trust me. Great job, on that really. But you really should be more careful.” 

“Gojo,” You plead again, throaty. The sound goes through his system, sends blood rushing to his cock.  

“Satoru,” He insists on, knowing it will take more than that to convince him “I’ll try and listen to your requests if you say Satoru,” 

He doesn’t promise to stop, because he doesn’t think he’d be able to follow up on it. Still, with the level of desperation you show - Gojo thinks it’s worth it to gain something out of. You follow up his request almost instantly, lips wrapping around the syllables with a weak breath. 

“S-Satoru,” 

He gestures to take your shirt off. You’ve become more pliable, if only a little, letting Gojo see all of you completely bare as he tosses his clothes somewhere onto the floor. Shameless in viewing you, your instincts kick in to cover your chest. He clicks his teeth, pushing your wrists together again over your head. 

“That won’t do,” He coos at you softly “I wanna see you. All of you,” 

You hiccup, sobbing, Gojo reaches his palms towards your breasts, cupping them gently. Your nipples rub against his palms and he groans feeling how soft you are. 

“So pretty,” He admires you. Means it. Gojo lets his gaze catch on the edges and curves of you with enthusiasm. Your chest is sensitive to his touch, thumb and forefinger tweaking and teasing your nipples as you remain underneath him obediently. Your eyes look so watery, soft like lilies in freshwater “So cute,” 

“Satoru, please, I don’t—don’t want—” 

“So ungrateful,” He tsks. He smacks your chest lightly, enough to make you squeal “That’s the only request I can’t listen to,” 

You hiccup, looking away. Gojo hums as he hovers over you, seated over your figure. He pulls his mask off from his eyes, material falling into his fingers. Grabbing your wrists with his palms, he wraps the material around them - tight enough to keep you but with enough room so it doesn’t hurt. He places your hands over your head gently, kissing your covered wrists. 

“Don’t squirm too much, ‘kay? Stay like that. I’ll make you feel good.” 

“I don’t,” 

“Hey,” This time he’s stern, and you slink back into yourself. It’s the first time he’s had to use this tone on you and hopefully the last “What’d I say? You owe me this much, don’t you think? After everything I’ve done for you, the least you can do is not turn me away. It’s not like I wanna do anything bad with you, y’know” 

A pang of guilt passes through you. You stop squirming. Gojo keens, baring his teeth as he smiles. 

“Good girl.” He dips his head to kiss the place under your ear, where your neck meets your jaw. He scrapes his teeth on the skin so you can feel his teeth over your pulse “You learn quick.” 

You keep your arms over your head like he’s asked, hesitant and stiff. Gojo can work with that at least. He leans towards you, tipping your jaw so you’re forced to look at him. Tear-eyed and whimpering, a shudder passes through him. 

“So pretty,” He mumbles. He leans forward, presses his lips to yours - hand resting on the base of your neck. You make a noise of indignance but Gojo keeps you there. He eases you into obedience, forcing his tongue in your mouth, grazing the inside of your mouth. 

He swallows every sound you make. Distress and frustration and reluctance lend themselves to giving in  easily. Your body is sensitive to touch, a trail of goosebumps where his hands touch you. On your waist, trying to ease you into it. 

He pulls away from you, a string of saliva connecting you. 

“First kiss?” He asks. You shy away, clamping your mouth shut. Gojo chuckles, teeth nipping at you “Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

You remain silent, so Gojo fills the space. 

“Mm,” Gojo presses kisses down the curve of your jaw, all the way down your neck where he stops and bites - hard enough for something to be there tomorrow. He undresses the rest of you. You try to resist this time too, but Gojo doesn’t bother putting up a show. It’s easy to overpower you. He tugs your shorts off with your panties and tosses them somewhere. Unceremonious and uncharacteristically impatient. 

He takes his time now that you’re all naked. It’s thrilling to watch distress fill your lungs, a ballooned breath and muffled protest. Gojo sucks hickies into your bare skin. It’s only fair to give you something to look at while you’re departed. Your blood rushes, capillaries breaking under the hardness of his incisors  - ridges pushed against your delicate skin. He licks the bruises afterwards, kisses them tenderly. 

“Gonna be a little sore for a while,” He says warmly. You’ve hit the stage of grief where you’re angry and resilient again but one look from Gojo is enough to make you slink back “Might as well enjoy yourself.” 

Despair flashes in your expression. 

“I mean it, you know.” He offers, stating it like he’s trying to appease you “You should relax a little, let it roll off your shoulders.” 

It seems like you register that Gojo is teasing you. He does mean it, about thinking you should enjoy it. Everything else is deliberate and you know as much. It’s good you’re starting to understand him a little better. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” You ask hoarsely. Gojo is surprised by your question. 

“Ah, it’s a secret, so you can’t tell,” He starts. He squeezes the fat of your chest in his palms, silver tongued and playful “I like things that I can keep.” 

A flash of true horror washes over you and you almost go ragged in realization. Weakened in your resolve once glimmering so brightly, Gojo takes the opportunity to please. He kisses down your sternum, runs his hands across the sides of your chest. He presses this thumb against your hardened nipples, rubbing lightly. Gojo takes them into his mouth. He bites then licks like he licks a wound

It pleases him immensely when you respond. When you gasp in a helpless sort of way and go to cover your mouth in shame. A sense of delight washes over his body and he does it again and again. He teases, changes from sucking harshly to lapping oh-so gently on the skin. Over and over until your voice can longer be contained no matter how hard you try - sharp gasps and cries of desire filling the air. 

When he thinks you’re worked up enough, he slots himself against you and nudges your legs apart. He can feel the heat from your bare skin against his body, clothed. How you tremble underneath him. He eases his hand down gently, fingers trailing down to your pussy. 

You hiccup. A sob of defiance stifled with obvious arousal, forced from you so easily. Gojo laughs. 

“You don’t wanna?” He pricks, intentionally. Gojo lets his middle finger ease along your slit, dragging his digits up and through - catching on your achy clit “Are you sure?” 

It’s torture for you. Of course it is. A pretty, sheltered little thing. It’s your first time with something like this and he’s sure all this is too much for you. Even if you tell yourself you don’t want it, your body can’t refuse him. You can’t either, try as you might. That’s why your legs are spread and why you’re practically dripping for him. Gojo thinks of it as admission. Your clit is hard underneath the pad of his middle finger, as he rubs too light and too gently. 

You cry out, pitchy and broken. Gojo laughs. 

“You need it here,” He punctuates, adding enough pressure that you gasp “Need me to touch you here, hm?” 

You shake your head at first. Gojo tucks himself against your chest, sucking the skin gently. 

“Be more honest.” He encourages a mockery as he so barely presses his finger inside of you - threatening to touch but never doing it “What do you want?” 

“Don’t, I don’t.” You say, or you try. 

“Liar,” He snips playfully against your clavicle “Your pretty little pussy is dripping wet and you want me to believe that?” 

Gojo smacks your cunt softly. Once, then twice, then three times for good measure as you cry. 

“C’mon,” He encourages meanly “Tell me what you really want.”

It’s a sick little mind game that Gojo is having too much fun playing with you. 

“P-please,” You stutter, so unbelievably broken with so little done to you at all. Gojo will take all of you at a later time. When you’re thoroughly pliable and broken and so beautiful all for him “Please.” 

So dependent like Gojo always thinks you should be. 

“Please what, hm? What are you asking for?” 

You swallow thickly. All your dread and doubt and disbelief gone as a sense of real and true need ignites within you. Of course this is too much for you. Gojo overwhelmed you like this on purpose. The resentment of wanting despite it all, despite how miserable you are makes for something so tragically Gojo’s. Whatever you have in your heart will always be for him. Good or bad, ugly or beautiful - like this you are all his and so perfectly too. It’s titillating, the sensation of control that wisps around him. It strikes him like a hammer on hot iron.

Gojo wants you to say it. Wants your selfless  little heart to beg for his mercy this once. You’ll understand some time later, that this is how Gojo loves. Selfish and twisted. Cruel. Intimate beyond mortal comprehension. All of him just for you, just like this. 

Strangely, it's perfect. Gojo teases you some more. Toys with your clit and feels a pool of arousal rush and drip from your sore cunt. He hits it with the palm of his hands as you try to form the words. You tremble in his arms, a vestige of your will to resist. 

You want to resist so badly, he can tell. But it hurts now to leave it alone and you want it despite yourself. It makes you so frustrated you cry. Limp, crystal tears down your face that Gojo licks up nearly immediately. Salty and bitter. Gojo kisses the apples of your cheek, nose nudging your skin. 

“So cute when you give up.” Gojo praises sincerely. You sob somewhere deep inside of your “Be good and be honest. I’ll reward you, hm? How’s that?” 

Gojo can feel the moment you give in completely. When acceptance settles over your hazy and contorted mind. You let the tides take you, curling into yourself.  A sound like you’re in pain even though you’re not hurt. 

“Please touch me.” You whisper, hoarse and defeated. Gojo laughs airy, peppering your face with kisses. You wince. 

“Good girl.” He coos, dipping his fingers down lower and lower. Heel of his palms pressed into your swollen, needy clit “That’s all you had to do. Easy, right?” 

You scowl at him (you try too).

“Open your legs, baby,” 

You listen this time, opening your legs wide enough for him to touch. Your pussy is so wet for him. Sticky and soft like you’ll fall apart, Gojo thinks it feels divine, wants to squeeze and grope and touch until you’re disintegrated. He likes feeling you like this. Vocal chords strung tight, all the noises throaty and gone. You throb against him like you’re begging. Gojo doesn’t stand to let you acclimate, flipping between three fingers in a gentle rub to a soft and well-practiced spank. 

Only when your words start to come out t0gether, like you’re spitting them out because they fill your mouth  too quick - does Gojo bless you with any mercy. He lets his hands sink lower, deeper - until his middle finger brushes your twitching hole. Your breath hitches, and the hands once stuck to your side, reach for Gojo’s hard to hold. 

He licks his teeth, some unspoken feeling sending an bullet through him as he feels your body resist. Needy thing you are and so untouched that even the point of your middle finger makes your breath slower. You’re wet enough he doesn’t need anything else to aid him. He pushes in slow, slow, slow - painstakingly carefully as your wetness envelops you. 

Because he intends to cherish you in his own way, he resists the urge he feels to flip you right over and take you. He’s being kind, and you’ll realize it later - when you’ve adjusted to him a bit more and know when to pick your fights. If he didn’t think it’d ruin the set-up, he’d have flipped you on your back just feeling. Fucked you without any consideration, just to feel your pussy around him in a vice grip. 

It’s all he can picture, but he shows restraint. He’ll fuck himself off on you when you’re sleeping maybe, just to scratch the urge. You might pass out before then. 

He comes back to you like that, a promise to himself to give the relief he needs with the body he finds oh-so tempting. He pushes his perversion aside to touch you. You let out a little sound every time he fucks himself deeper, gets his middle finger down to the first bend the all the way to the knuckle. 

When he thinks you’re adjusted - ready for more, he gives it to you without making you plead. He uses his ring finger this time - his longest ones and feels you stretch around. He groans, deep and appreciative, as he feels how tight you are. You preen, squeeze your thighs together and call his name 

“Oh, Satoru, its.” 

He shushes you before busying himself with tasting your skin. Closes his mouth around one of your tits as he repeats the process. In, in, in until he’s all the way to his knuckles. Fucks you till it’s easy, till you’re wanting more. 

If he were more merciful, a good man or a better one - he’d stop here. He doesn’t though. A third finger has your eyes widening. You gasp. Gojo kisses your face again and again. 

“Easy, easy,” He coos, voice coarse but encouraging “It’s a good exercise for the future.” 

You don’t register the words and Gojo doesn’t expect you to. Even still, he thinks giving you the heads up is quite nice. 

Three fingers proves to be more than enough. It pushes you to an edge he has seen before. He fucks you with three. Your mouth falls open, slack jawed. Gojo curls his fingers. He rubs up like he’s motioning for you to come here, deep enough until he feels it. That spongy spot inside of you, apparent through the sounds you start to make as he touches it. 

He hits something of a stride like that, finger fucking you with pressure on your clit and his mouth on your skin. Gojo takes to watching you once he knows he’s getting you to that edge. Your body stiffens underneath him, breathing going noticeably shallow. Mouth wobbly, lower lip trembling. He can tell you’re feeling it, just as much as you’re resisting it. Gojo coaxes you by whispering against your skin. 

“C’mon,” He hums, nudging his nose to your neck “You wanna cum don’t you? I can tell you. You too scared? Need me to help you.” 

You whimper “Aah, aah,” Gojo can feel you pulse. Can feel your insides tighten. He’s doing it on purpose, tipping you just over the edge. He wants to hear you beg. Wants to know what it sounds like when you beg for him. He fucks into you slowly, until you’re no longer able to put on a show of being composed. 

“S-sato—oh, please, oh—please m-make me,” 

“Want me to making you cum? Say it. Say, ‘Satoru, please make me cum,’ can you do that?” 

A bitter sob leaves your lips and Gojo can’t think straight. It strains you. 

“S-satoru, pleasemakemecum—please.” 

Gojo grins. “Of course I can,” He quickens his pace enough to make you feel it. Your eyes shoot open before screwing closed again “All you had to do was ask me.” 

He watches you intently. How you fall apart under his fingers, delirious whimpers of no, no, no - even though you begged so sweetly a minute ago. He hums as he feels the walls of your pussy start to tremble, a soft squelching sound hastened now. You say something he can’t decipher, words too jumbled for him to make sense. Gojo stares hard. Lets the infinity bleed away so he can feel you just like this, feel you cum on his fingers despite everything. 

He feels giddy to the point he’s sick with it, moaning as your hands grip at the roots of his hair. He kisses your breast tenderly, just over the latest lovemark. 

“Don’t hate me too much, kay,” Gojo says, whispering, means it so you carry it with you because he can feel the resentment nudged so deep into your heart by now “Come on. Cum for me, sweet girl. Want you to feel so good.” 

And so you do. You cry, scream - but the noise amounts to nothing. A cosmic thing, like you’ve been struck by a comet. Gojo fingers you through it, absolutely delighted at the hot rush of liquid that comes pouring out of you. Your first orgasm from him and you’re squirting all over his fucking wrists, soaking his sheets and his arms and his PJ’s with your back curved in a beautiful arch. You break apart in an almost violent way, like the pleasure’s vicious. It tears into you and you succumb with a whimper. 

Gojo shushes you as you break down finally into a teeny, tiny sob. You must be exhausted because you don’t pull away when he comforts you, despite the little angry why, why, why that you whisper. You hit his chest softly. He kisses your forehead and listens as your breathing goes still and you fall asleep in a heart-beart, still curled up into his bed and too tired to run away or go anywhere. 

He stays with you like that, relishing in the warmth of your body until you’re deep asleep. He flips you onto the side of the bed that isn’t wet, and presses a kiss to your forehead before moving out of the sheets. . 

When he stands to his feet, it’s to collect the curse that’s gathered itself on the foot of the bed. It manifests as a white snake with blue-eyes. Gojo finds himself amused. Of course the curse you’ve made is pretty. Gojo grabs it by the neck, watching it as it pries its mouth open and bares his fangs at him. He grins, pricking himself on the teeth to see if it makes him bleed. 

It hisses loudly before wrapping itself around Gojo’s arm. It doesn’t take any effort to subjugate it, sensing his power it stills with some effort. Gojo tilts his head as he walks out of the room, glancing at you before turning his head back at the snake. 

“Better warm up to me,” He whispers in the dark, a contentment to his words “You won’t be seeing your mama for a while,” 

—

Communication stills. 

Radio silence, more like - a busy bunch of messages deftly still. Suddenly, a raging storm of grief and anger disappears. The morning after Gojo assaults you, he wakes up to see you off like nothings happened. 

He mostly does this because he wants to see what you’ll do.

You spend the morning perplexed and confused. You eat breakfast with him. You sit at the table, contemplative and silent and Gojo chats away at you idly. About the news and the weather and the classes he has today. You chew your food but don’t taste. You listen but your replies are short and stilted - out of touch. 

Gojo learns that when something bad happens to you, you respond to it by detaching yourself. Though yesterday you were hot and fiery, the day after you seem to be mourning. Your grieving process starts early, and Gojo thinks rather amused—that you remind him a lot of himself.

He thinks you’re a little closer now that you understand the apathy of losing something that can never come back. And once this whole thing is over, once you find yourself back here - he’ll tell you all about it. You get it now right? It’s painful to feel like you can never be the same. 

They say that mankind was fashioned from their Lord. Gojo supposes he’s made you in his image. You look a little empty, and though you’re both so different - you can become close by having the same wound. You can understand him a little more this way, all while retaining your sense of resilience.

What is mankind not known for if not perseverance? Of course he knows, once you recover from your grief, you’ll return to your usual spitfire. He’s counting on it, counting on you to fight and run. Escape from him and never come back. 

But that cat and mouse game is more than okay. Gojo isn’t looking for your obedience, really. You’re too defiant of a character. Gojo thinks it’d be pointless if you’d just stayed the same.

You need to have hope to stay the way you are. Thus, Gojo doesn’t plan to rob you of it. He figures it’s best to give you breathing room. After all, he has full confidence in his ability to find you. He could hear the rhythm of your heart a continent away and chase it down without thinking twice. But it’s better if you’re able to show him some resistance. He thinks of it like a compromise. That sort of thing is typical for married folks, he thinks. He gives and you take. 

Eventually, you might realize that the endeavor of running away is fruitless. Maybe you’ll be clever enough to recognize that it’s not that you’re succeeding, but that Gojo is letting you. You’re definitely smart enough to do so early, but just stubborn enough to believe that there’s hope in spite of that. If you try hard enough, persevere a little more, etc. 

Gojo likes this part of you. Always will. You always put your best in everything and this is his own way of nurturing it. 

It’d be a shame to take that from you. Gojo has remained out of your sight for the time being to try and reinstate it. While he raises the curse up in his apartment, he watches you through windows and flitters into your bedroom to peer at you before disappearing again. He makes sure that you can’t sense him or that he’s gone before you can. The more ease you feel, the easier everything else will go. 

Feeding the curse you’ve left behind in his house has been taking most of its time. It’s obedient to him since he’s strong, and it’s big now. Longer and wider and more sinister looking (he feels a weird affection for it, maybe just because it’s from you), more hostile. He’s been careful to maintain it. Too much feeding will make it overgrown. 

It’s currently on Gojo’s floor, on a dog bed like a disobedient pet - all in a single coil. He has to be careful not to endanger you by making it too strong or giving it too much range. It’s just meant to be a showpiece - a prop at best and a scraped knee at worst.

He’s been building it up for a long time. Then, though, it wasn’t such a clear desire. He figured sewing seeds of fear in you would benefit you in a different way. But that’s fine. The means don’t matter as much as the ends and in doing so - he’s made this all sort of seamless. 

It’s not a complicated plan, ultimately. He’ll tell the curse to let loose, freak you out a little, and eventually - you’ll call the only person you know who knows how to handle it. Gojo will save you, and when you’re finally caught in his arms, you’ll have a little reunion amongst yourselves. He’ll reprimand you (but only lightly) and you’ll thrash (but only for a little while) and then he’ll keep you by his side again. 

Except this time he won’t be so quick to let go. He’s sure you’ll protest (and be all gung-ho about it). He’ll feign cruelty and push you to the edge. Whatever response you do have, he’s thought of a way to reply. 

A way to tend to it. 

Like any relationship, things take time. He’s not expecting this to settle right away - but he’s confident eventually it’ll work out how he wants too. Gojo can make that happen as long as you’re within view. 

He watches you through the window as you come in from your classes. You’re dressed up today despite the chilly weather - a blouse and nice pants with bangles on your wrist. He wonders what the occasion is given the time of year. Your bag is hanging loosely off of your shoulder - having only just returned. 

A sense of warmth spreads through him as he peers at you, a smile on his face. He really does like looking at you quite a bit. 

The curse hisses at the sense of your presence and Gojo waves a hand at it to keep it quiet. 

“Calm down or I’ll exercise you right away,” Gojo says coldly. It retracts itself. “I’m getting impatient, too, you know? It’s been a long time.” He says wistfully. 

He keeps looking until you’ve effectively disappeared from his sight. He listens for you outside of his door. The sound of the building buzzer, soft footsteps, and the slight jiggle and turn of keys before you’ve gone in - sound by a dull thump. 

He leans against the wall near his door where he was listening, eyes up at the ceiling as he turns over his options. He should wait it out a little longer. Giving everything enough room to mellow out before it picks up again is an important part of the process. 

But he doesn’t know how much longer he can wait. Plus, keeping this curse around is starting to be troublesome. He’d much prefer you back in his arms, in his bed - all back to that kind domestic fantasy that he’d been thinking about again for weeks. 

He supposes there’s no right decision, in this case. Just what he wants to do, versus what he should do, and some kind of middle ground he’s been spending too long looking for. 

He stands to his feet, no longer leaning on the wall before glancing at the curse from the corner of his eyes. 

“Today seems like it’s too soon yet too far,” Gojo pauses between sentences, scratching his head woefully “But it should be okay, right?” 

__ 

At 7pm, the curse slips underneath the door of his apartment into the hallway. Gojo sits comfortably in his living room, one leg crossed over the other with his phone in hand, a warm mug of tea cooling on his coffee table. 

The news is playing. A general and loose sense of anticipation fills him as he pays attention to the newscaster. Another storm is going to hit and the temperatures are dropping to an impossible low. Officials recommend buying bottled water and keeping warm as it continues to blow out. 

There’s a soft hiss as the muscled curse squeezes itself underneath the tight crack of his door. It’s unfortunate he can’t monitor it directly. Though the instructions ( and subsequently the consequences of disobedience) were made clear - curses are greedy as they are stupid. This one in particular seems to be self-aware enough not to try to go against Gojo’s word. 

So, when the time comes he sits patiently and waits. Watches the news. His ears itch and his skin pricks as he listens for the first whisper of your voice. He wonders if you’ll scream. You didn’t when he thought you should’ve but maybe there's a reason for you to do so now. 

The clock ticks away. It’s unceremonious. Gojo thinks to himself that maybe this entire thing is esoteric. Capturing you is a tragedy that he writes to himself and he’ll re-tell it to you all the time in different ways. 

The clock ticks. Again and again, the monotony is starting to settle in. Time moves slower than you could imagine. Like trying to pipe honey into straw, thick and impossible. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

At 7:02, a dog barks outside. It sounds cagey, and it’s not Pokupan because Gojo knows what that mutt sounds like. Nor is it cosmic. It does sound desperate, though - like asking someone to be let in. And if Gojo didn’t have such a pressing matter to attend to, he’d go outside and do it himself. After all the wind is frosty and the air is unforgiving and winter devours things so slowly it's painful. 

Gojo can’t abandon his task. It’s too important for him to stick his neck out for a being he doesn’t even know. He hopes briefly that it survives. That someone lets it in before it gets anymore violent (or desperate or willing) 

At 7:03, he reaches for the tea on his coffee table to drink it. It’s still piping hot, but Gojo can swallow it with his infinity. He does for a reason he can’t name. It’s just a compulsion, inspired by the fact it will probably be too cold when he comes back for it. He thinks, instinctively, that he should cherish the warmth in the glass despite the barrier that prevents him from feeling it. Ultimately it’s still milk tea. It will still fill his stomach and taste vaguely sweet where he permits. He ought to drink it when it’s warm even if it’s just an illusion. 

The clock ticks again, this time to 7:04 and Gojo regains a sense of bravado that’s riveting. There’s a commercial airing now for a new type of kitchen gadget, an airfryer with more settings than any one person knows what to do with. The advertiser is enthusiastic and loud. He wonders what happens when it switches to the next one. Do actors on set feel awkward when the cameras turn off? He knows a thing or two about performing, which is why he finds himself so curious. 

At 7:05, the first whisper of your pleading filters through the hallways. Though Gojo figures he’s not meant to be able to hear it - because however vague it is, the sense of shame that it holds is hard to ignore. Despite his urge to run to you, Gojo is reminded of the fact he is teaching you a lesson and this is all a show for you and in a way for him too. There’s timings and cues and calls, so Gojo lets your first prayer get passed through the winter winds. He’s sure it gets dropped off somewhere in the snow. 

The dog outside bares its teeth and barks louder than before. 

At 7:06, the feelings of fear and negativity start to weasel their way into his apartment. Through cracks in the floorboards and the aeration in the spackle - he can feel it come through his door and penetrate his being like waves of wind. With no barrier and no filter, your fear is a familiar presence in his life. It comes to a crescendo as he leans his head back on the couch and blinks up at the ceiling. He’s pleased with it so far. It’s proving to be just right. All the months of delicate orchestration have culminated into such a lovely overture. A symphony of sobs. It enchants him like a bird song, or maybe the whistle of a blizzard. 

He waits for it to die down. He waits for it to start back up again. He waits for the sniffling to become sobs and for the sobs to become demands and for the demands to go back to sniffles. He waits for the dog outside to be let in because he can hear the buzz of the gates all the way from his apartment. 

When Gojo has had enough of waiting, it’s 7:15 sharp. 

He stands to his feet and walks through his door with not so much as a look back. The T.V. is still playing where he fazes out and he leaves it because this will be quick and easy. 

You’re right across the hall. The walk is short. The building moans like it’s dead. 

He stands in front of your door and presses his ears to it and there’s some semblance of an altercation. Mostly the sounds of shattered glass. 

If you were any more familiar with this world, you’d know the thing is stalling. It has harmful intent but Gojo’s presence is too risky. If you knew anything about anything, then you’d know you were never in any real danger and even calling Gojo’s name when you hate it so much now would be pointless. 

But Gojo has done his due diligence in keeping you in the fateful dark. 

So this part is easy. He reaches for the door but it’s locked, so he teleports. 

When he enters, your apartment is in terrible shape. The curse itself notices his presence but does not stop to act. He stops to take a look around. He figures you’re cornered and holed up in your bedroom. A trembling figure in the corner praying for God to save you. 

Your house is effectively thrashed like there’s been a robbery. He’ll have to make up something in the report. Officials will come, but they won’t question his word. All the glass is broken and scattered and everything is torn up. Papers ripped and fabric shredded. 

(The stuff Gojo demanded not to be touched has remained that way. Even he’s not so much of a monster to ruin your students' keepsakes. He’s sure you’ll look relieved when he returns them to you later. How kind he is.) 

He prepares himself like an actor might for a role. He thinks of the lines he’s practiced and the way things will play out. This simple, choreographed tragedy. A manifestation of your fears. Gojo thinks that he is probably good at becoming the thing people love yet resent. 

He’s sure you and Suguru would have a lot to talk about in another life. 

He checks the time on your digital clock, left unscatched in all the destruction. 

At 7:18, Gojo phases himself into your bedroom like he’s only just arrived. He hears you gasp in a sharp fear that quickly breaks into a sob of relief. He glances at you where he stands. He’s never been in your room. Kind of a waste it’s happening like this. 

The first thing he does is check if the door is locked. When he finds that it is, he laughs to himself but covers his face before he turns to you. You are exactly how he predicts. Something curled tightly into your fists, fearful and backed into a corner. He coos internally. At what he's done to you. How this has played out. 

It wasn’t enough to break you a little. This part is necessary. 

Like he starts most interrogations off, he asks you question.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, Satoru.” Your voice sounds shattered in such a way he finds it almost hard to stomach “Oh, it’s—Oh it’s you.” 

“Happy to see me, huh?” He says, tilting his head. You close your eyes instead of replying. 

“H-how’d you…?” 

“I can feel cursed energy,” He says, and it’s not untrue “I felt something very strange in your apartment. It’s been a while.” 

You still can’t find it in yourself to say anything. Maybe desperate, maybe afraid, maybe exhausted by your own paranoia - you relent. 

“Yeah.” You say. Gojo can feel the curse grow impatient. It lets out a loud hiss and you gasp in fear.

“Hey, you didn’t answer. Are you okay?” 

You stare at Gojo for a long time. 

“I’m not hurt but,” You swallow thickly. Upon looking at you closely, you look exhausted. He feels a little sorry for you. He’ll let you rest for a while when you’re home “I’m s-scared.” 

“You’re right to be scared,” Gojo says, and he means it a little. Not about the curse, but in general “It’s a pretty powerful class. A special grade, probably. You share cursed energy.” 

You look agape as he relays this to you. 

“Share…?” 

Gojo gives you a look. He can feel the creature coming towards you door down, slinking across the wood slowly. A coy, soft smile appears on his expression as he reaches down for you. You flinch from his hands but Gojo doesn’t falter. He strokes his thumb across your cheeks, peering at your eyes and how they reflect light from the outside. 

“It was made with your cursed energy,” Gojo explains very gently to you. You look at him in disbelief “Curses are negative emotions. So something like this isn’t uncommon. No idea how it got so strong, though. But that’s all your.” 

He watches you closely as a wave of horror settles over you. A nauseous feeling that has you cupping your hand over your mouth like you’re ready to throw-up. He masks a smile, but he doesn’t condescend you. Not openly, at least. Not to the extent he would like too. He reprimands you like a teacher - a sensei and his beloved mentee. 

“I told you didn’t I,” Gojo says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as you quell your own disgust at the thought “You have to be careful. And you can’t fight all by yourself, so you’re kind of helpless. What were you gonna do if I wasn’t around?” 

You look like you’re going to cry. Gojo keeps going. 

“You can’t call the police, you know. They can’t help you at all. Good for nothing bunch, really.” Gojo states, gesturing vaguely. He tugs his masks off of his eyes so you can get a better look at him “But you can rely on me if you need to. I’ll always protect you. Next time just give me a call, okay?” 

It must dawn on you, just then, what exactly Gojo is doing. Or some extent of this is hitting you for the very first time. The look on your face is picture perfect. It’s exactly what he wanted. An understanding he’d be hoping for for so long it’s unbelievable. 

“I’m the only one who can keep you safe, understand?” But he’s not really asking. You know that too “Can you nod your head and agree?” He pricks. You don’t hold back your tears but you don’t cry them either. You break down  silently nd you nod. 

Gojo reaches down and wipes them off for you. 

“Don’t be so sad,” He says to you, and he means it because what a shame it would be to wallow too much on such a nice day. Winter is for warming up next to your loved ones, isn’t it? “I’ll protect you now.” 

Left with no choice, you nod again slowly and clutch your pillow. Gojo kisses the crown of your head and leaves you to untangle your feelings. 

Then, almost on cue, the curse itself bursts through the door. The wood breaks off with the hinges. 

It’s really a weak thing. If Gojo was trying to keep his powers contained, he might’ve put up more of a fight as it lunges at him in your bedroom. It knocks over your things left and right but he’s mostly busy trying to muffle the noises so he doesn’t disturb the neighbors.

 It’s as fast as a gust of wind as he strikes out, neck elongated and jaw as unhinged as far as it can go. This time, Gojo can feel the weight of its desire to kill. A rampant sense of bloodlust in it’s every action, Gojo dodges each attempt and swipe at him. He leaves a barrier over you temporarily so that it can do you no harm.

It doesn’t go for you either. He figures maybe it has some understanding of its own predicament. Desperate animals can be clever too. Perhaps those things have always been linked together. 

But he figures a fair-ish fight is as much as Gojo can do to stave the thing off before he sends it off officially. Plus, he can feel you watching his back - like you’re trying to measure how strong he is. It’s a smart thing to do. You’re learning. It’s probably better to show you now, since there’s not much left to hide. 

So this time, when the snake comes flying towards him - Gojo reaches his hands out. He uses his infinity to stop it in its place. A noise of anger leaves its mouth, a low hiss as it hits the wall in front of him. Wide blue eyes stare at Gojo, a predator with its fangs bared. 

Gojo stares back, a predator with its fangs bared.

He uses a reversal of his Limitless, the infinite blue. The creature is pulled into him closely, crashing first into the space he’s created before disappearing into nothing but smoke and ash. It’s gone just as quickly as it happened. A curse so inferior, it can’t have been more than ten minutes to fight even with all the purposeful delays Gojo set in place to finish it off. 

It’s gone now, the product of you and him. A weird part of him is sad. But now he has you, so he cuts his losses. Now there is only you and Gojo, and a ruined bedroom and broken apartment. 

Gojo, who has no intention of enlightening you, turns his back to look at you. 

“Don’t know how long it’ll be gone but,” He shrugs, rolling his shoulder and cracking his spine “But it’s gone for now. Some officials will be here in the morning but with the way this place is, you might wanna come back to stay with me for a while.” 

This is all a formality. He’s sure you know too, but instead of turning away - you’re shivering figure wavers in the dark. You’re terrified enough to reach for his hand and hold it. You know what’s coming, but that knowing does nothing to save you. You were a victim to fate from the moment you met. Yet, you still look to him for comfort in safety because even knowing better, there isn’t anything you can do. 

And it’s just like you, to want to trust and forgive him. To reach your hand out hesitantly and try. Everything is tangled up and you are terrified and Gojo Satoru loves you. 

“Come on,” He says, encouraging you to get closer. He reaches over your bed to scoop you into his arms and you don’t do so much as protest “Let’s go home.” 

__

Gojo brings you home quietly. 

When he enters, the T.V. is still on. You are curled up in his arms. He has no idea how long you’ve been crying and about what in particular - but that’s okay. Tonight, to him, is something like an anniversary. Like any time before, he has no intentions to treat you roughly. 

It’s a good night, he thinks. Even in the state you’re in, Gojo can only think of making it even more memorable. You’re an injured thing in his arms. A delicate bird with clipped wings, or a butterfly with a missing antenna. Without Gojo there to pick you up in all your broken pieces, you might’ve really fallen apart. 

It’s reasonable enough. For someone like you, he’s sure tonight has been so scary. It makes him feel a little sorry for you. It makes him want to make it all worse before he makes it all better. 

He can’t describe it, but there is something so right about seeing you like this. 

All angry and resentful and volatile. All lonely and scared and saddened and somber. All Gojo’s forever, permanently through everything. He’s made you so completely in his image, something he’s always wanted to do. Maybe you’re a trial run, in its own right, of all the things Gojo will be able to do in the future. What he’s capable of creating with enough effort. 

Gojo is gentle to you. Tender, as he carries you into the apartment. You help him turn off the T.V. and put the mug into the sink. He carries you too afterwards, rewarding you with a kiss to your temple, before pulling through the threshold of his bedroom. 

Just like that, you find yourself again in Gojo’s bedroom like you were so many weeks prior. You’re weakened and exhausted, so willing that he is endeared. Like this, he hovers over you. Looks at your tearstained face and smiles so lovingly. 

Regardless of everything that’s transpired, above all - this is a reunion of two lovers to Gojo Satoru. So in the midst of it, he wipes your tears and kisses your cheek and you don’t pull away. Now you’re so ruined you relish his comfort if only a little, and this time it’s perfect. It’s everything he’s always imagined. 

He’ll give you hope and freedom and let you be. Eventually, you’ll come to realize you’ll always need him a little. And it doesn’t matter, does it? That he’s made it that way on his own. Because it’s true. It’s righteous and religious and godly. Gojo Satoru is not god, but he does understand the urge to make something that listens. 

He kisses your soft cheeks and hums at you, nose nudging your skin. 

“Still feel like crying?” He asks you. You blink up at him like you’re only just now realizing where you are. Some emotion overwhelms you, but ultimately you shake your head no. Gojo grins impishly. 

“That’s good,” He says tenderly. He kisses your lips this time, and you kiss back. It catches him off guard but he doesn’t dislike it “You didn’t get hurt did you? And now we’re together again.” 

This does seem to incite waterworks in you but you don’t look like you have the energy to cry. He doesn’t push you too much. Though it is fun seeing you like this, Gojo is grateful he has some time to cherish you. 

“Scary world out there, y’know?” Gojo says between kisses. He adjusts you, your arms around his shoulders loosely “Hold onto me okay? I’ll make it all better.” 

You whimper under your voice but don’t go to thrash. There’s something about you that feels limp. A spirit softened and dampened, like wet soil. Gojo is okay with anything as long as it’s you, and there is some part of this he likes too. How pliant you become under the weight of your fear, so tantalizing to Gojo he can’t help himself but kiss you.  Riper than the fruit of Eden. Just as sweet.

He kisses you for longer than necessary. It’s intimate and hopeful. All tangled hands and pulling different parts of you up to his lips.The occasional press of his teeth in your skin, with his senses so high he can practically feel the blood rush through them. Your mouth is soft and warm, the breadth of mint on your tongue. He pushes his tongue past your lips but this time around, you don’t do anything to refuse it. 

So accepting like this. Gojo thinks life with you will prove to be exciting. 

He rests his hands on your waist and you don’t pull away from him. Such soft skin covered in a sheer layer of sweat. It’s making him dizzy to have you like this, to kiss you in his bed. Again, again, again. You belong here with him and nothing has ever been so true. The euphoria of everything is overwhelming. He can’t get enough of you. Even if in the moment he carved a spot into you forever and buried himself there, he cannot help but want to be spoiled by your lenience and affection. He can’t help himself but to possess all of you so even time cannot spoil iit. 

Despite yourself, you touch Gojo back gently. Knowing you, it is a way to deal with the pain. You want to forgive him as much as you want him to save you. You hate him as much as you love him. 

From the beginning, everything has been exactly like this. This was the end of all ends. 

This is a lesson in divine truth. 

You’ve made Gojo this way as much as he’s made you. If Gojo Satoru is to play as God, then he supposes you are much like an owner. Some part of you has made him love you unconditionally. A dog and his master. An animal with a love so violent it shakes windows. Gojo Satoru makes you love him through violent means, and like a dog left abandoned in the snow - your own empathy for his unconditional but broken love makes you protect him. It’s cyclical. It can never change because the universe has ordained it. Because everything Gojo touches is a divination from the heavens. 

Where Suguru proves to be a lesson, you are the dues he is owed. 

This is a lesson in divine truth. 

More simply, Gojo Satoru loves you in his own way. Any loyal dog will chase its owner no matter how far they run. He lives for you, after all. He’s made you in his image. The difference between god and dog is nothing more than a matter of positioning. 

You love him back in your own way. Because his character and his tragedy makes it so difficult to abandon him  and your disposition will never allow you. You’ll hate and resent him. You’ll grieve and you’ll cry. You will want to turn your back but he will always come to save you. And who can love you so loyally as a dog undisciplined? Who can keep your sheltered being protected like a wild hound?

Spring was an innocent century ago. Winter is here. Gojo loves you. 

“My birthday passed recently,” He tells you. You blink at him. 

“Oh?” 

“Can you guess what I want?” 

You don’t do much more than nod. It’s not permissive. You just know better by now, and that too is not something Gojo finds himself pleased with. 

“You don’t have to do any work,” He offers you as a reprieve, busying himself once again with undressing you. You’re still wearing the clothes he bought you all those weeks ago “Just don’t run away from me.” 

If you notice how heavy the words are, you’re smart enough not to do anything. Even still, Gojo can’t tell if there's a purpose behind it. Perhaps you just know it instinctively not to. 

He takes you apart carefully. Careful, thick fingers unbuttoning the front of your shirt. You’re wearing nothing underneath, and the sight of your bare skin is almost too much for him. The hickies have yet to heal, though now they’re yellow and softened by time. Gojo will have to leave more to bring back all the color to you. 

He starts at your jaw this time, teeth against your earlobe. Heart in your hands, he knows your body a little better now. 

And he takes his time with it this time too. Even slower than before. Even more consuming, even more adoring. 

He laps his tongue against your soft skin and eats. Your skin is salty and sweet and Gojo can’t contain himself. He gropes you lightly, planing his palms over your shoulders and squeezing your breasts tight. He’s missed touching you more than he knows what to do with. 

Even in being gentle, there’s little he can stop himself from trying to devour. You lay about him squirming as he undoes each and every part of you. He can’t pick which place to go and what thing to do first because he wants so wholly. It’s making his head spin to listen to your sweet and short whimpers. You spread yourself as you lay under him, hands pinned to your sides - demure and needy. 

How different it is but the same. Something about how you’re clinging to him so desperately is making him feel sick with lust. 

Instead of going any further, he pulls away from you momentarily. He puts his arms on your sides and flips you over till you’re on top of him

The sudden change in position leaves you gasping for air. Gojo gives you an amused grin as you fall forward - as he props himself up on pillows while you try and steady himself. He holds you close to him once you’re all set, face to face like this.

“Don’t run away from me,” He says, more seriously. You swallow. Gojo lets you up until you’re half-way over him. You’re so much weaker than him, moved and manhandled so easily. There��s a target on your back so often and Gojo loves being an arrow. 

He kisses the side of your body as you stand on your knees beside him. His fingers hook into your shorts and panties, sliding them off of your body all in a fell swoop. He squeezes your ass slightly, spreading you apart.

“Look at you all bent over for me,” He coos, hands reaching underneath you to toy with your pussy. You whine, shuddering, clinging to his shoulders. “So pretty, baby. Prettiest girl.” 

A hiccup bobs in your throat. Gojo moves his fingers lower and lower, familiar now with the feel of you. Your cunt is just as welcoming as he remembers. The idea of making love sends a shiver through his whole body. Blood rushes to his cock like a bolt of lightning in his veins. He pushes his middle finger into your twitching, needy hole. 

Another sound, cut off by a garbled word of surprise, falls out of your mouth. You’re soaking. Ripe for taking. Gojo wants to fuck you more than anything.

He takes a deep breath, whispering to your skin. 

“Fuck,” He laughs, giggling at the thought of it “I’m gonna break you, huh? Gotta be—shit, need to be extra careful with you, right my love?” 

“Please be gentle.” You say at his request.

“Of course, of course but—” He squeezes your hip as he feels his middle finger go into you down to the knuckle. You roll your hips against him involuntarily  “You just—you’d look so good so full of my cock, y’know? Been thinkin’ about it for weeks.” 

And he has, means every word. You shudder at the confession. He quirks his lips as he fucks into you, relishing in those pretty little sounds that fall out of your lips. 

“You like that?” He grunts, another finger to stretch you out a little more for him “You like when I tell you about all the dirty things you make me think about?” 

Shame fills you, like Gojo’s lit a match under you. He can feel your heartbeat pick up. Is it the being so wanted or is it the crassness and humiliation? Maybe both. Sometime later he’ll pick it apart more closely. He lets himself talk you through it, so close to your skin as he whispers all the filth to you that he can. Confesses it to you. 

“Weeks and weeks, baby. Couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect and wet you would feel when I finally took you like this. Gonna make it so good for you, you won’t have to think about anything else again.” 

The promise sends you limp. When Gojo finally feels both of his fingers slide in and out of you with no resistance at all, he sighs lightly and pulls away. The loss of contact makes you whine, but he brings you back to his lap now, sitting with your legs on either side of his. 

His cock, clothed and restrained in his sweats, swells against your wet cunt. He watches your eyes widen as you stare at it, lucid enough this time to realize what it looks like. He looks up at you, kissing the corner of your mouth. 

“C’mon. You can look.” 

He guides you to the waistband of his sweatpants. You pull his pants down slowly, looking up for permission (which Gojo gives in a loving nod) before taking his boxers off too. His cock is so hard it’s almost painful. The tip is a flush red, white hairs trimmed neat at the base and feeling so fucking heavy Gojo can’t stand it. He hisses as your hands reach for him instinctively, and you try to pull away before he stops you. 

“Touch it, sweetheart” He encourages, wrapping your hand around it for you “Feel it? That’s all you.” 

A flush graces your features. For a minute, it’s all love and nothing more. Nothing less. Too briefly for it to mean anything, but enough for Gojo to know it. You wrap your hands around his shaft and stroke tentatively and Gojo groans shamelessly into you, rutting his hips into the round part of your palms. 

“Fuck that’s it,”

He looks at your expression, examining the concentration before chuckling. Your lip is poked out, eyes dazed. He pulls away from you, securing you close to him. 

With the new proximity, he holds his cock close to you. Measure it up against your skin, against your tummy. He feels you against him, Around him, folds nudging apart for him, The skin on skin alone has him so breathless. A dizzy sort of feeling as he presses the tip of his cock hard against your clit. You feel like silk around him. 

Looking at you like this, all helpless and needy, he can’t help but think about how easily he can overpower you. He’s stronger and bigger. His cock would be enough to split you in half. How he’s gonna make himself fit inside of you spins in his mind over and over. Maybe like always, your pretty little pussy will yield just for him. You’ll open and endure and take him so deep. 

He can’t help appreciating it. Can’t keep his thoughts quiet from telling you. 

“See that? How deep I’m gonna go?” He measures up to you. A hand on the bottom of your stomach, stroking his thumb “Gonna feel me right in here. You ready?” 

You close your eyes and look away. Gojo grabs your chin and tuts at you. 

“Nuh-uh. Want you to see. Don’t close your eyes.”  

It’s not a question or a request. 

So, you watch. Gojo lifts you up just enough to line up with your entrance and sinks you down so, so slowly on his cock. It’s agonizing how slow. It’s incredible how fucking good you feel. How perfect one sensation could possibly fucking be - Gojo could die here in complete bliss. He can feel the stretch of your pussy trying to accommodate. That sensation of resistance that sends him reeling, spine tingling and skin prickling with a heat so intense he feels like he’s going to pass out just sitting there. 

And then there’s looking at you, which proves to be an entirely new animal. You have this pinched expression, a shocked little gasp as Gojo pushes through. A whimper leaves your lips. Gojo rubs his thumb on your lower lip as he eases you down. 

“Hurt too much?” 

“N-no. Just… feels weird.” 

He laughs a little at your honesty, before fucking himself into you even deeper. Another inch and he really starts to feel you. Your walls feel like they’re sucking him and Gojo wouldn’t leave if it killed him. He groans, deep in his chest as you shake. Your grip on his shoulders gets tighter and tighter. 

With one more smooth thrust, Gojo sits you down on his cock completely. He feels so complete like this. Everything in him is at ease feeling your insides spasm and melt around him. He sighs contentedly.

“Still okay?” 

You nod weakly. 

“Can I move?” 

Your reply is nothing more than a whimper.

So he does, but he does so slowly. Just to get into the rhythm. He thrusts up slowly. 

‘O-oh. Oh, oh it’s,” 

He chuckles against the crook of your neck, hugging you close to him. He loves the way you feel against his body, the way your frame fits so perfectly into him. He rolls his hips up into you so there’s no effort on you to move. You whine that time, and he does again and again until your voice is a mess. 

“Starting to feel good?” 

“S-satoru.” 

He swears. 

“Fuck, stop that,” He swears “Gonna—shit, gonna cum right away. Moving so hold onto me tight, baby.” 

You take his words for it. Gojo feels your soft tits pressed into his chest as he pulls your hips up and starts fucking up into you. Each time he does, he feels like he can feel all the way to the back of you. None of his fantasies could compare to the feeling of being this deep inside, cock nudging against that sweet spot that keeps making you fucking mewl into his ear. He can hardly take it as it is now, focusing hard on not cumming until you do.

Making it good for you is his priority. Always has been, but you make it hard for him like you do most things. 

“Touch yourself for me, okay?” 

You look at him surprised but listen to his request regardless. Gojo takes to fucking you steadily. He builds an even rhythm as he keeps you up, hands firm on your hips as he pistons you from underneath. The pleasure comes in waves, undulates as blood continues to rush to his cock. He’s so hard he can’t think straight but he keeps each of his thrusts consistent, lines them with the pace you play with your clit so he can encourage you to cum for him. 

He can tell you’re starting to feel good when your mouth falls agape. He drags on your walls with each punctuated movement and your thighs shake and tense. Everything comes together so slowly but the pleasure comes at once. It’s a force that’s nearly earth shattering. All the planets aligned, everything in the same plane. Everything for him and for you. For the togetherness he’s created and chased after so long.

Now this part of you is all his too. 

“Sa—Satoru,” You warn, your hands trembling and fingers cramped up with need. He grunts as he stares up at you through thrusts “G-gonna…” 

“Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum on my cock? Go on. Know you can do it, baby. So good for me. Perfect for me.” 

It’s all babbling for him now, the sensation hitting him in waves. Your mouth falls agape and you cum so hard Gojo can feel every fucking pulse. Squeezing his cock hard enough he wants to grit his teeth. He presses his mouth to yours instead as you moan out, unable to hold it in. He swallows every noise like he’s trying to embed them into himself.

You cum hard and fast and Gojo is so quick to follow you. Only seconds after you fall limp into his arms does he feel it - no longer able to stave off the urge to cum so deep in you it stays forever. To mark you deeply you never think of anything. It’s almost animalistic for him. Every nerve on his body is on fire as he shoots his cum deep into you, sitting you on his dick with nowhere for you to go. 

Panting, he pulls back to gaze on you. He’s still hard as he’s twitching. He can’t hold off tonight, he doesn’t think. But he’ll give you a minute to collect yourself. He presses a kiss to your hairline. 

He whispers softly as the night comes to a quiet, quiet still. 

“I’m yours and you’re mine baby. Forever and always.” 

You shake. And Gojo knows you well enough to know that it’s the resentment coming back in waves. But that’s okay, because Gojo loves you. 

And with this, he’s taken everything.

EPILOGUE / OVERTURE : 

Your senses are accustomed to Gojo by now. 

You never thought such a day would come. You spent the first year of this relationship (if you can call it that, to begin with) in trenches so deep you couldn’t really tell left from right. So many things persisted as normal, but nothing was ever the same. 

In that, though, Gojo stayed by your side till the bitter end. He nursed you back into health and sometimes treated you so kindly that you could almost forget who you were dealing with. Sometimes the weight of everything became too heavy. You think you love Gojo almost as much as you hate him.

But it doesn’t particularly matter what your feelings are. Has it ever, in any of this? You always knew that something was strange but you didn’t think you were so clueless. Blindly following wherever his voice took you. 

The first time you try to escape Gojo feels like so long ago. That time, he let you go quite far. You made it out of the house and even went out of the country during summer. But you were sloppy and inexperienced. When he found you and brought you back home, you figured it had been a fluke. You’d learn from it. You’d do it again and that time you would succeed. 

That’s what you told yourself anyway. It’s how this all started. Where you would run, and Gojo would let you before he started to miss you. He’d come and he’d discipline but it was never too cruel. 

(You wished it were. You wished it were sickly and sadistic and tortuous. You think it’s so much worse to beg for mercy when you are sobbing from pleasure. For Gojo to coddle and sedate you and never yield. You think you’d prefer if he were just out of it. Just cruel instead of what he is. Which is knowing but certain. Justified.) 

This has been the farthest you’ve ever gotten. You don’t think you’ve ever been this far away from home. A cabin in the woods where you lived peacefully for days. You don’t know how Gojo found you. 

You had been so sure. This was it. It had to be it. 

Your heart shatters as you hear him. Feel him in your bones so much it frightens you. The world is covered in a sheet of white, and your ankles are bruised  and bleeding from where you’ve fallen. You’re cold and your heart is beating so loud - but no matter how much you run you can’t find any heartbeat to motivate you.

Gojo pulls through the thickets with a frown on his face. Blue eyes and black coat, his feet crunch the snow as he comes towards you. You crawl away. You try too, anyways. 

Gojo leans down to your level, looking at you closely. He reaches out to brush snow away from your skin. 

“My birthdays soon, you know?” He hums, not angry today. Not even wanting to discipline you “It’s not a bad place, y’know? The cabin. We can spend some time there before we go home. Might be nice. But we should get going so we can check on your foot.” 

He reaches his hand out to you this time. Too injured to run, you take it and he smiles before offering to carry you on his back. You hop on, arms around his neck and don’t even cry. A numbness settles. 

It is not the cold. 

“Oh, look,” Gojo says, reaching his hands out “Snow’s falling.” 

You suppose it is. Another Winter will pass just like this. 

A dog howls somewhere far off in the distance.

#writing tag #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #noncon cw #yandere cw #manipulation cw #coercion cw

[realbeefman]

Do you have any good house fic recs? I am Struggling with my search.

for sure! although Disclaimer, i havent been reading house fanfic for very long and ive pretty much only read house/wilson so far, SO this is more of a hilson fic rec list than anything lol

Warning Signs by out_there - oneshot, 12k words, Wilson-POV, set around the end of s3. SUCH A GOOD FIC i laughed so much while reading this. genuinely delightful. possibly my fav house fic i’ve ever had the pleasure of reading.

The Line of Thought by tevinterimperium - oneshot, 12k, Wilson-POV, set after s3 e15. THEEE classic fake-dating AU. this was the first fic i read in this fandom and it absolutely fucks. im a SAP i love a good “no homo but OH GOD THE FEELINGS” plot!!

Desert Mesa Motel - 8 miles outside of Kingman, Arizona - 12:03 AM by plorp - ficlet, 1k, House-POV, post-canon. this makes me BAWL. very very good fic but SAD. and DEPRESSING. will make you CRY/pos

How Not To Be Boring by fourleggedfish - incomplete/abandoned, 497k, Wilson-POV, AU from around mid-s5. if u like whump (which i absolutely do) u will probably like this fic. if u are squicked out by sex, u will hate it bc these guys bang 24/7. this fic had me pacing, glued to my phone, sick to my stomach, crying (several times), and obliterated my sleep schedule. i can’t rec it highly enough. every chapters includes appropriate content warnings, but some major themes that appear throughout are character death (not of main characters), the aftermath of severe child abuse, and mental illness. if any of these topics are a trigger for you, please don’t read this work.

Forsake Me Here by MonsterBoyf - complete, 8k, Wilson-POV, ambiguous setting. Wilson has intrusive thoughts about mutilating House. He tries to cope. features a lot of very graphic imagery and does an excellent but extremely accurate job of portraying an OCD-spiral that could be triggering to people. i LOVE this fic i think about it so so much.

An Inconvenient Truth by anathaema - complete, 15k, House-POV, ambiguous setting. contains the quote “You’re the suicide bomber of revelations” and is one of the funniest things i’ve ever read. plus the way in which wilson’s sexuality in this fic is handled is honestly so realistic and entertaining. HIGHLY recc this to absolutely everyone who enjoys hilson

the more it took away by scribespirare - oneshot, 10k, House-POV, ambiguous setting. Omega!House has his first heat since presenting. Alpha!Wilson helps him through it. I LOVE OMEGAVERSE AND I LOVE FUCK OR DIE AND I LOVE THE WAY THIS FIC HANDLES THIS IS JUST GRAHHHH. If u don’t enjoy omegaverse u won’t like this but i can’t make a house fic rec list and NOT include this one

Aftershocks by black_cigarette - series, around 125k in total, various POV’s, set sometime post-Tritter arc. this fic IS gen, but honestly, i didn’t know that going in and didn’t realize it wasn’t a slash fic until the very end. tldr is that wilson is brutally assaulted because house has been gambling with some unsavory people, and house helps him deal with the aftermath. this fic does not pull punches. its is extremely graphic and everything wilson goes through is described in detail. it is a messy story about recovering from brutal trauma and everything that entails. DISCLAIMER: there are sequel(s) to this series available on the author’s livejournal, but i haven’t read them and can’t speak to anything they discuss.

no need to worry (making up your mind) by scribespirare - complete, 25k, House-POV, set sometime in the early seasons. House lies about having a Jewish boyfriend to get out of visiting his mother at Christmas. Things quickly get out of hand. THIS FIC IS SOOO *tears into it with my teeth*. I love when they scheme together <3

#ty for the ask!!! had a lot of fun thinking abt which fics i enjoyed the most/stuck with me the hardest #tried to provide tws for everything but if i missed anything plss call me out #house md #hilson #housefic #house md fic recs #hilson fic recs

[omgkalyppso]

So I really enjoyed the Orc Heritage Armour questline. After getting into dragonflight and Alexstrasza, Kalecgos and Khadgar kind of acting like they'd never met Borgakh (again), being welcomed and greeted by Thrall / Go'el and his family was so fucking delightful.

I'm going to post the screenshots from the final cutscene first and then a few more things with commentary below the cut.

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Be warned it's long. You can press J to skip it on desktop if you open and change your mind.

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Tbh, having not played dragonflight I thought they were about to throw Eitrigg into the Nathanos role and this was going to be related to world quests. I'm glad it wasn't. Eitrigg's history makes me uncomfortable.

I care them.

While I kind of wish they'd let Drek'thar cast from his wheelchair, it's also interesting to think of him having some mobility.

I know some people really don't like Aggra, but I have and do, and I found this delightful. A circle completed.

All the little moments with Durak were very sweet. Very grounding after other story elements in the main plot have gotten so convoluted and absurd.

Thank you, Rexxar, for also recognizing a title (Huntmaster). I was really thrown when Khadgar was back to calling you Adventurer and not either Champion, Hero, or My Friend — too open ended for people new to the game!! ^^;

I go back and forth with the Countess from the Court of Harvesters and Huntmaster titles when I run around with Borgakh because while I still hate shadowlands for what it did to the various in game religions (and the orcs especially since I'm biased) I think these titles would mean a lot to her. To be acknowledged and given the promise of authority / contribution / significance wrt Countess, and to be acknowledged by her peers wrt Huntmaster, which is also tied up in my favorite expansion and all the seeds of Horde and Alliance working to a better future together.

When it came to choosing a clan, I imagined Borgakh sharing a look with Aggra about how it was "obvious" that now, given the choice, that she would follow Thrall / Go'el anywhere. But unlike how it presents the player character as having never belonged to a clan, Borgakh has been for Years, headcanoned as part of the Warsong clan. I felt it added depth and weight to her struggles.

And then not only did Thrall / Go'el have The Weakest pitch for joining his clan (undoubtedly because they knew he and the Frost Wolves were going to sweep anyway), but I got to the choice screen and imagined the question for Borgakh as being, "But would I give up a core part of my identity for you?"

She is still part of his Horde, and she would die for him and his family, but I decided to keep her a member of the Warsong clan.

Borgakh has had maxed cooking in this game for like, ever. And that the final trial was to prepare a meal as an offering for her ancestors was something I really enjoyed. That the cookbook included a spicy as hell recipe from the Warsong was a bonus and reaffirmed my enjoyment of maintaining her membership with her clan.

I really appreciated this. After shadowlands? Bring me back to the uncertainty and faith of the past wrt what happens after death and the peace and connection with those lost and those who remain.

That this quest began with the premise that the orcs felt disconnected from each other and their culture and clans and this gathering and a new ceremony to replace the old coming of age ones that an orc could take part in regardless of age was very sweet. I have so many more screenshots of all the smaller npc's and things they've said in case I want to revisit it either for myself or for fic writing in the future. Loved it.

Thank you if you read my rambling.

#long post #world of warcraft #borgakh

[legend-as-old-as-time]

Bionicle Fic Recommendation List - AO3 Series

I have so many favorites that it makes sense to make several posts for my recommendations.

I'm starting with stories that are part of a larger universe / part of series. To support the authors, I'll add link to their AO3 profiles, tumblr blogs if they are present, and commission posts on tumblr.

Please assume canon-typical violence and the likes for every fic.

Under the cut for length.

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Random_ag is also active on tumblr as @randomwriteronline and has posted their stories here as well. Here's their commission post, please give them a read! They're a great writer!

They love Pohatu x Kopaka as a couple as well as their friendship, and have written several stories starring them. I definitely recommend to give their stories if you're looking for these two plus interesting plots and intense feelings.

Summary: Pohatu likes the cold and hates the dark. The two things are connected.

Important information and tags: Generation 2015, implied connection to Generation 1, memory loss, fear of the dark, descriptions of a panic attack. Kopaka x Pohatu is tagged as pairing, but can be read as friendship in my opinion.

My thoughts: You know these stories where you slowly realize why a character is behaving as they are, rejecting any connection to the people around them, but the character themself has no context why they do that?

And you realize this character changed from trauma they don't even remember and have no chance of healing from like they are? Only a tiny bit of their previous self remains. Memories they don't realize are memories.

This is Pohatu (and the other toa). It's heartbreaking and I love it. The author wrote this premise based on a headcanon post.

Summary: Sort of sequel to Acluophobia.

Kopaka thinks, thinks, thinks - about things he can't remember, about himself. About Pohatu.

Important information and tags: Generation 2015, memory loss, idolization, implied connection Generation 1.

My thoughts: The reason why Kopaka in Generation 2015 differs from his Generation 1 self is the same as for Pohatu in this AU.

It's heartbreaking that he yearns and has no idea why he focuses on Pohatu or why his behavior breaks his heart, when he doesn't remember how Pohatu used to be. He puts him on a pedestal and doesn't think he could get hurt and be afraid. Until he realizes. Like in the first part, he offers him comfort but this time it's intentional.

Where the first ending offered relief, this one gave that and comfort.

----

Summary of the first entry:

A sudden tremor shakes Spherus Magna: something seems to have impacted the planet from a great altitude, if the unrecognizable wreckage a small party is able to find is anything to go by. More unexpected, however, are the creatures seemingly emerging from it. (a possible ending situation to the epilogue serial "The Powers That Be")

My thoughts: This series happens some time after where Lego ended Bionicle Generation 1 on Spherus Magna. The premise is that the Red Star trasnformed Pohatu and Kopaka into fully organic beings over a timespan implied to be at least several months if not years.

Three entries so far, they focus on the two toa being found after the Red Star crashes. They as well as their friends and families have to deal with the changes and what that means for them. It's gut-wrenching and heart-rending.

I'd like to do explain my thoughts on each entry separately in the future because it's such an amazing series.

----------

MahouMascot is also active on tumblr as @magicalgirlmascot. On top of being a great writer, she's an artist that offers drawing commissions. Her commission post shows samples of her art style, it's really cute!

On AO3, she has posted one on-going series that I'll recommend here, as well as several Bionicle oneshots. She's another author to look into if you like Pohatu and Kopaka as a romantic couple.

This series has two entries so far. It's an AU set on Earth in a contemporary 21st century setting resembling Canada, where most of the characters are humans. Toa and turaga still have powers, but the details differ from canon. A lot of the story happens at the titular school - fully fleshed out as a setting - where most of the current main cast works as teachers or other jobs.

Tip: Magicalgirlmascot shares fun tidbits of the AU on her tumblr.

Summary: Kini Nui P.S. is a gorgeous old K-8 grade school in a small rural town in the middle of nowhere. Students attending KNPS can expect the following:

-extremely competitive sports teams -frequent infighting between the junior and intermediate teachers -oddly prescient administrative staff -wild animals on the school yard -and more!

A very normal elementary school AU.

Important information and tags: The story has several romantic relationships, some with varying degrees of slowburn: Whenua x Nuju, Onewa x Krahka, Lewa x Onua, Gali x Tahu, Nokama x Matau x Vakama, and Pohatu x Kopaka. These are subplots and are affected by the mainplot.

My thoughts: It's recognizable Bionicle and it's own thing at the same time. Makuta is sealed under the school, and Mata Nui rests underground, in a coma because of Makuta. The toa protect people from Makuta's machinations.

I love how the author translates canon elements into a world that is much more familiar to some readers in its mundanity. The Toa Mata as well as every other toa were born and had average childhoods.

They're at the core similar characters to their counterparts. But this change shifts which hurdles and fears they face. At the same time, they're still different to other toa. I'm excited to learn what the Toa Mata's deal here is!

Another thing: All toa have to act in secret because of the same mundane.

Nobody else aside a few confidants have any idea about what lies hidden in Kini Nui. This creates conflict that doesn't exist in canon - the toa lie to many a loved ones, peers, colleagues, etc. where the fantastical aspects were an everyday part of life.

It's a contrast to the island of Mata Nui where everybody knew the danger they lived in, and a parallel to Metru Nui where the matoran didn't know of the danger that had come into the city.

Summary: Vakama's visions began when he was a child, and that was the start of the downward spiral of his life.

Side story for Kini Nui Public School.

The main pairing is Roodaka x Vakama. Vakama has one-sided feelings for Lhikan. And he realizes later that he has feelings for Matau and Nokama, but keeps silent about his revelation.

This story depicts snapshots from pivotal moments in Vakama's life from before Kini Nui Public School, starting with his first vision. It wrenched my heart in several parts. Sometimes because of the unfairness of all that he experienced (like at the hands of his parents); because of the pain it brought him.

Sometimes because he feels so much and he struggles dealing with it. He's outwardly much more vulnerable than his counterpart - even in his thoughts -, so the weight of his feelings hit harder.

Especially the aftermaths of either instances with his relationship to Roodaka broke my heart. He just breaks at the emotional climax of the Hordika arc because he's hurting so much.

Themes and depictions of abuse and neglect appear through the fic so be careful with that.

----------

Inthehouse001 is also active as @byz-was-here here on tumblr. A great author, they have invented a neat AU series on a fascinating premise I've not seen elsewhere. And if you love interesting OCs, I'll double recommend this one.

Series Summary:

AU of Bionicle where some Agori managed to survive on Aqua Magna after the shattering, using living plesiosaur ships, and eventually encounter the Island of Mata Nui sometime after the Great Cataclysm. The Pleisosaur Ships are canon, by the way.

My thoughts: This is the neat premise I promised. Each entry has a different protagonist - each an Agori, with a different story to tell, and all are part of an overarching plot.

I adore the Agori OCs and how their perceptions differ of Mata Nui the island. They're the strongest part of the stories for me.

Imagine that your family and community has been surviving on Aqua Magna for such a long time. There is no land on the planet. They travel across the vast ocean, always looking for food and other resources. They only know each other.

One day, they sight a strange ship - a ship that could've been only made on land. They follow its track, travel through the mist-

and find the first land they've ever seen in their life. Land that wasn't there before.

This is only the beginning / the first story. Because even this seeming paradise has its dangers. Like a certain Makuta who doesn't like factors he can't control.

#bionicle #bionicle fanfic #long post #bionicle fanfic recommendation list

[grimalkinmessor]

I made a little post complaining about the lack of a Light Bashing tag, and now the time has come for me to expand on what exactly counts as bashing! :D

Bashing is described as "villainizing a character, and representing them without any redeeming qualities", and "...demonizing a character, referring to them with derogatory terms, or making them the subject of deathfics or spitefics". Deathfics aren't so common for Light (L Bashing is more common in those, though I have seen Light Bashing in deathfics centered around L) but I think spitefics fit very nicely with some of the ones I've seen.

Generally bashing is a negative deviation from the original character's personality by either ONLY representing their flaws, EXAGGERATING their flaws, or making up NEW flaws.

In Light's case, this is done by presenting him as someone stupid, incompetent, heartless, cowardly, arrogant, and/or sadistic. And yes, given that Light is a villain, arrogant and cowardly do describe his character—TO AN EXTENT. The representation of these traits only becomes bashing when they're pointed out repeatedly and/or exaggerated. (When I say repeatedly I mean it becomes an underlying theme in the story rather than a single part of it, harped on rather than just mentioned).

Now, where I think a lot of people get tripped up is this: Light's looks do not count as a redeeming quality. If your story's stance on him is "he's evil and stupid and I hate him but he's hot so it's okay"—that still counts as bashing.

In fact, even if you DO feature his good qualities in your story, if the bad outweighs the good then that would count as bashing.

Now, where this gets muddied up is, again, the fact that Light is a villain. "But Grim," you say. "How am I supposed to write Light authentically if I can't write him doing bad things?" You can write him doing bad things! You can write him being evil and awful! In fact I encourage it!

What I'm saying isn't that you should morally whitewash Light—I'm saying that bashing is an ignorance of nuance in a negative direction. Writing Light killing people isn't bashing. Writing Light killing people for no reason or for fun is bashing. Writing Light being an absent lover isn't bashing. Writing Light being an abusive lover is bashing. Bashing is, again, a discernible deviation from the known character in a way that makes them worse than they are, or refers to them in a derogatory manner.

"Well Light IS that awful, he SHOULD be demonized! Light SHOULD be referred to in a derogatory manner!" <- this is ignoring character nuance. If you write your fics like this, I politely ask that you tag them as Light Bashing (preferably as Yagami Light Bashing or Light Yagami Bashing, given that there's already a tag for light bashing that isn't Death Note related) because this counts.

And you should do this for every character in your story!! Maybe you enjoy Light, maybe you do enjoy the nuance of his character—you might still ignore L's. Or Misa's. Or Matsuda's. Or Mikami's. Or Near's. Or Mello's. Or a hundred other characters that I haven't mentioned. Don't think I haven't seen just as many fics that ought to be tagged as Soichiro Yagami Bashing out there too 🫵

Bashing is not inherently bad. A lot of people like those sorts of fics, especially when they hate the same characters you do. But the problem the DN fandom seems to have is UNTAGGED bashing. There are several tags that haven't been implemented that honestly should be, and I think it's just because the Death Note fandom is so old. It comes from before the tagging system, from before AO3 was even a thing. Times where authors had to toss up a warning in parentheses right before the smut started 😅

But we DO have a tag system now—and a very good one. I'm asking people to pretty please use it. Help people that hate the same characters you do find your fics. Help people that love those same characters avoid them. It's only polite 💖

#death note #light yagami #yagami light #lawlight #character bashing #*bernie sanders voice* i am once again asking you to make new tags for the dn fandom and to tag your fics with them #i honestly think a lot of people don't even realize they're doing it #hopefully this helps ^^ #l lawliet #amane misa #mikami teru #matsuda touta #yagami soichiro #near #nate river #mello #mihael keehl #<- goes for all of them too #and everyone else im too lazy to add #also asking so i can find those sweet sweet matt bashing fics 🙏 #we love self-awareness in this house #tag discussions

[somekidnamedkai]

February 4th- Awkward (yet cute) confession of love with Jamil, please?

February 4th - Awkward Yet Cute Love Confession

Authors Note: This is just basically me making a self insert fic. Enjoy :)

Characters: Jamil Viper

Warnings: Me bullying loving Jamil

Gn! reader

February 14th, Valentine's Day. A holiday you’ve always thought was a little stupid. It was a holiday where people in relationships could flaunt them off and make single people like you feel horrible. There should be a holiday for single people, where they can show off just how single they… Ok, it sounded good for a second.

Walking around the halls of school almost made you sick. The couples walked around, holding hands, giving each other presents like chocolate and stuffed teddy bears. Then there are the people practically eating each other's faces with how aggressively they were making out.

And maybe this spite for Valentine’s is because you’re single, or maybe it’s because you're scared that you’ll never feel that kind of love. Having the person you’re in love with shower you with gifts. What if it never comes?

Lunch arrived, and you sat at your table with your friends. “I just don’t understand. Why is there a holiday about love? Can these people not love anyone else on any other day?” You said your thoughts aloud as you played with your food, moving it around the plate.

Before he spoke up, Jack patted your back, “Prefect, why don’t you just tell Jamil how you feel. Maybe you’ll feel different after you let it all out,” he told you before ruffling your hair making the rest of the group laugh.

You groaned in response and then fixed your hair, “why would I? So I can be rejected on Valentine’s Day. Imagine how embarrassing that would be. You tell someone you’re in love with them, then they say that they don’t care,” you whined and slammed your head on the table. Jack sighed before patting your back again.

Little did you know, there was a certain dorm leader who heard the entire conversation. And he couldn’t wait to tell his vice housewarden the good news that the person he had feelings for felt the same.

Jamil couldn’t believe it. “You were eavesdropping on them, Kalim? Seriously?” He asked after the cheery boy finished his story about how his beloved prefect liked him just as much as he did. To be honest, Jamil was practically screaming inside. He was so happy you liked him. He just didn't know what to do now. What was he supposed to say? Hey, Prefect, Kalim overheard your conversation and heard you love me, and well I like you too. Twisted Wonderland that’s cringe.

Kalim shook his head in defense of Jamil's accusation, “I wasn’t eavesdropping, I just overheard them on my way over,” he explained, “but isn’t this great news?!”

“No.” What Jamil meant to say was yes. But he wasn’t going to admit that. He didn’t need Kalim breathing down his neck on confessing to the prefect.

Kalim smiled, “Yes it is. I can tell you’re excited about it,” dang it. Jamil hated how Kalim could be so observant at times. “Just tell them how you feel.”

That made Jamil roll his eyes, “it’s not that easy, Kalim. Just because you’re good at talking to people doesn’t mean I am.”

“You don’t need to be good at talking. Just tell them how you feel, say you like their eyes, and compliment their hair. Let the words just fall out,” Kalim explained, yet to Jamil, it made no sense. This was going to go horrendously.

After school was over you and Grim went back to Ramshackle to get your schoolwork done, what you found when you got there, however, was a surprise.

Jamil was standing in front of the door, a small bouquet and a box of chocolates in hand. “Jamil?” You called out as you walked up to the door. “What are you doing here?”

Jumping in surprise, the boy turned around and faced you, “Oh! Prefect, I just wanted to talk to you. If you don’t mind, that is.” He said, almost hesitantly.

You raised an eyebrow at his newfound shyness but immediately shrugged it off and walked inside the dorm, motioning for Jamil to follow. Why was Jamil holding flowers? And why did he come to Ramshackle? The questions danced around your head as you closed the door after Grim entered. “Jamil, what are.. what are you doing here?” You asked, curiously. You wanted to ask about the flowers and chocolate, but you were too scared of the answer.

There was a moment of silence, as if Jamil didn’t know what he was doing himself (spoiler: he doesn’t). He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again only to shut it a minute later. Jamil shoved the flowers and chocolate into your arms, as he began to blush. “These are for you,” he told you. But before you could question him about it he began to speak again, “The flowers are for your eyes-“ Jamil groaned and cringed at himself, there’s no way he just said that. “I mean, your eyes are as beautiful as the chocolates, I mean flowers. God.” Jamil said as he continued to butcher his words. “I... I love your hair and seeing you! No, wait-'' He finally spat out, talking quickly then groaned when he realized his mistake. “Kalim said this would be easy. Liar.” The vice housewarden muttered

You laughed, the laugh Jamil had fallen for, the same laugh that kind of terrified him. Oh no, what if Kalim lied, and you didn’t like him at all and now you’re going to tell him that he’s stupid and- “I like you too.” “What?” You walked closer to the stunned boy and hugged him. “I like you too, a lot. A ridiculous amount, honestly.”

Jamil let out a sigh of relief as he returned your hug. “So, will you be my valentine? Actually, how about you be my partner? We can be a couple every day instead of just today.”

You immediately nodded as Jamil let out a breath of relief as he looked down at you lovingly and smiled, “Can I kiss you?”

#you’re my valentine #jamil viper #twisted wonderland #twst #scarabia #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper x yuu #jamil viper fluff #twst jamil #twst fluff #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland fluff #twisted wonderland x yuu #twst x yuu #twst x reader #twst requests #youre my valentine #scarabia x yuu #scarabia x reader #twst jamil x reader

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

Susan Kay's 'Phantom' Read: Part V (Erik, 1856-1881)

Before we start I feel that I need to talk about a perspective shift that I've had. More than half-way through the book now with the completion of this episode I've come to a realization.

Phantom is not what I thought it was. This epiphany has been slowly dawning but here we are.

My impression of Phantom, based on how I have seen it talked about in the Phandom (and certainly how the reviews on the back of the book present it) was that it was Leroux's story but with the blanks filled in and a few small liberties taken.

I had this impression because I was told that for quite a few years, Phantom was basically considered Canon and also because I have often seen Kayrik (or Kerik) and Lerik (or Leroux's Erik) conflated in discussions.

But as I'm reading I have finally realised that I don't think this is ever what Kay intended.

Don't get me wrong I hate most of the decisions she's made, but this book is a complete re-working of the source material with many elements of the book, some from the musical and some original folded in. For Erik's history she mainly follows the life-history detailed by Leroux, but in terms of Erik as a character, he more closely resembles Musical!Erik than anything (except that Kayrik's deformity affects his entire face, not just half). When we arrive at the Opera, she again adheres to Leroux's history. But once we catch up to the canon events, this time line is swiftly abandoned.

Nadir and Erik bump into each other and resume their friendship.

A few weeks later, Erik finds Joseph Buquet's body in his torture chamber.

A few weeks after that Erik hears the news of the Opera's change in management, and hears Christine sing for the first time.

In the source material, Buquet's body is discovered on the same night as Christine's initial triumph (so three months AFTER Erik began to teach her), the same night that the old managers, Debienne and Poligny, have their farewell celebrations and hand over management to Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin. Leroux describes Raoul rushing across the stage, "On which Christine Daae has just triumphed, and under which Joseph Buquet had just died." [This excluded from the original translation.

Why Kay chose to alter the progression of events I don't know, but that combined with a final nail in this coffin for me to realise that I had been approaching this book from entirely the wrong perspective. That final nail is the fact that Christine Daaé, in this book, is dark- haired and not blonde.

Kay does what most Phan-author's do: she cherrypicks her preferred elements from both book and musical (Erik general erudite comportment, his mis-matched eyes, Christine's dark hair) and combines them with her own headcanons to create an AU fic that, because of the reclusive nature of Fanfiction at the time and the fact that this work was published and widely circulated, became, for many fans not interested filling in the blanks themselves, erroneously synonymous with actual canon for a goodly number of years, despite its open contradictions to the source material.

Does that mean I like it any better? Haha fuck no. My irritation with Kay's choices persists. It's just that my ire for this book's influence is more accurately directed at the Phandom at large for making it something of a Golden Calf.

And like the Biblical Golden Calf I am here to pound it into dust and make everyone drink it.

So at this point I was going to complain that Kay never made mention of Erik being Christened "the trap-door lover" in Persia. There's even a CHAPTER of Leroux's novel called "The Masterstroke of the Trap-Door Lover". And this didn't come up even ONCE in Nadir's narrative. In fact the Persian and Leroux's narrator both talk about how Erik "rigged the palaces". Which is to say he made alterations to existing buildings and "turned the most honest construction in the world into a demonic house where one could not speak a word without being watched, or betrayed by an echo. How many family quarrels, how many bloody tragedies had the monster left in his wake with his trap doors?"

In Kay's narrative, Erik doesn't alter any existing palaces, he only constructs the Trick Box inspired palace described in Leroux's epilogue and his love of trap doors? Apparently it just isn't a thing.

Moving on

So of course we have to come back around to his mother. That was inevitable and I do actually appreciate it because we know Erik's furniture in the lair was his mother's.

The part where he views his mother's body is... eighhhhhh.

Erik describes the ravages of time in Madeleine's face and also the ravages of death. He talks about the irony that there's actually some resemblance between them now. And we get... this

And as I looked at her, I suddenly understood her revulsion at last--because now I shared it!

I felt no anger or grief as I looked down upon her . . . nothing except a disgust which enabled me to forgive any act of cruelty that she had ever shown me.

[...]

I did not kiss her, now that I had the opportunity.

I knew that she would not have wished it.

And I no longer felt any desire to do so.

I'm deeply confused as to what Kay is trying to convey here. Is Erik really saying that he doesn't want to kiss his mother because death has made her ugly? He goes on a lot about how death is gross and ugly and like... you just found out that your mom never re-married after you left. Never left the house she raised you in.

The misogyny REALLY steps up to the foreground here as well. He says of his mother's friend, Marie Perrault (the only person in this entire book with any rights imho)

This nervous, anxious, well-meaning lady had taught me to respect all members of the weaker sex.

Which, simply by calling them the "weaker sex"... you clearly don't? And after proclaiming is respect for ALL MEMBERS of the weaker sex, in the NEXT sentence he puts in a caveat about how he's never harmed an innocent woman, and also says something about the Khanom that really made me very, very queasy, and also reinforced my squicky suspicions about why Kay chose to make the cruel and capricious female figure in Persia an older woman (a domineering mother) rather than Leroux's "Little Sultana".

Very annoyed how Kay has graduated Erik's voice from "Automatic Aphrodisiac" to "Literally indistinguishable from Jedi Mind Tricks".

Erik regails us with how, using only his voice he is able to "reduce certain men to a trance-like state of obedience" (once exhibited on Nadir and his son Reza). When he meets Nadir again in Paris we are treated to this observation:

"Do you understand, Nadir? Keep away!"

His hand slid him it carriage door and he stood back with a trance-like obedience. He made no effort to prevent the brougham moving away, but although I knew my secret was safe for tonight, I felt no sense of complacency.

Once before he had broken free of my control, torn down the swaddling cocoon of sound with which I had bound him. Unlike Jules [Erik's lackey], he was not a natural subject; his will was too strong, his sense of identity and purpose too well developed.

Whenever he chose to fight my voice, I knew I would be unable to hold him.

That's a Jedi Mind trick. I'm sorry it is.

This section is actually quite enjoyable where the building of the opera house is concerned, but it takes a downturn, both in terms of the story and just the quality of the writing.

There are two instances of redundancy.

His death excited little excitement.

"My old interest in divination had never left me, and from time to time I still consulted the tarot cards in desultory fashion. It had been a long while since they had revealed anything significant, but now of late, each time I picked a card at random I seemed to turn up Death...

And this latter example leads me to something that really made me want to throw the book.

Since Nadir's narrative I have looked askance at something that has come up repeatedly: Susan Kay goes to GREAT LENGTHS to ensure that the readers know that Nadir I 100% straight. NO HOMO HERE, DEAR READER. ABSOLUTELY NOT. She shoehorns in a dead wife that Nadir never got over losing, and went into unnecessary detail about how when Nadir feels "the itch of manhood" (🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮) he avails himself of a prostitute or an odalisque. It comes up SEVERAL times. And when Nadir pops back up in Paris she makes sure to tell us that he has a mistress that he sees regularly. All of this to bring us to THIS infuriating line:

And so even as I walked with Nadir, talked with him, rejoiced in the warmth of communicating directly once more with a human soul, there was a part of me that looked at him with suspicion and wondered what part fate had assigned him in this new, unrehearsed opera.

Not the Lover, that was for certain. I'd seen enough girls leaving his apartments in Persia to be reassured that all of his instincts were purely heterosexual."

I'm not generally into gay readings of PotO. I don't ship Erik with either Raoul or with The Persian. But I will say that if there is an argument to be made for anyone in this book being anything less than 100% heterosexual, it's The Persian. Leroux makes no mention of him having a wife or anything of the sort. Tie that in with the determined responsibility and complex bond he seems to hold with Erik and a case can be made for our dear Daroga feeling something rather more than just sympathy for Erik. (I don't personally subscribe to this, but the case can certainly be made--I'm more of a DaRaoul girl tbh. I think that's an untapped gold mine).

But not here. Kay bends so far backwards as to have Erik say outright "Nadir is defo straight", while (even more bafflingly) implying that, perhaps, Erik is not. WHY, SUSAN. WHY?

Christine’s introduction is the single most "reads like Fanfiction (derogatory)" thing I've read in this book so far, but I find it very interesting how, when Christine sings for the first time Erik says that she "possesses a near perfect instrument". He says her technique is faultless, and that there's no weakness in either register. My first problem is that Leroux's Erik only ever calls Carlotta's voice an "instrument", because that's all it is to Carlotta. My second is that, according to Christine, her lower register was muffled and her upper register was shrill and her middle register wanted clarity. Maybe that's just Christine being too critical of herself, but I doubt that she had "flawless technique" when Erik began teaching her. Incredible latent talent for sure, but I do believe that she needed help with technique as well as motivation to reignite her passion.

Lastly we have Erik's description of when he first sings to Christine. His narrative regarding his motivation is actually very similar to my own:

She wanted an Angel of Music--an angel who would make her believe in herself at last.

[...] There was no reason in the world why I could not be the Angel of Music to Christine. I couldn't hope to be a man to her, I couldn't ever be a real, breathing, living man waking at her side and reaching out for her. . . .

But I could be her angel.

Is his motive here altruistic? No. But the sentiment is sweet enough. The notion of inspiring Christine's self-confidence is present.

Pity then that he takes a sharp left turn in the very next paragraph and utterly compromises any positivity in his intent.

I could not steal her body--but I could steal her voice and weld it irretrievably with mine; I could take it, and mold it, and make it mine forever...

Softly at first, infinitely softly I began to sing an old, heathen, Romany song. The Hollowed bricks carried the haunting melody relentlessly to her, permitted my voice to envelop her gently like a poisonous mist, seeping inexorably into her mind and staining her soul with darkness.

Well, well.

Once more unto the breach I go...

Masterpost

#phantom of the opera #poto #commentary on 'phantom' #susan kay phantom #phantom susan kay

[essayofthoughts]

If you're still interested in taking asks for the games you reblogged how about 4, 21, 22 and 🔥 for Percy?

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

Book. Book. Give me a book. I want to know Percy's internal monologue if possible, or at least how he was with his family prior to the Briarwoods, and I think a book would be a great way of showing the fun nuances of that given we won't get anything like that on stream.

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

I mean I think the obvious choice is that I love to poke at his trauma but also like...

I like to provide a small change and try to figure out how it'd affect him? Partly because small points of divergence are fun for me, but also partly because Percy is an overthinker and also someone who comes to conclusions and then rationalises them to himself, not always realising the inconsistency between his emotional conclusion and the actual facts. Percy loves to portray himself as rational and reasonable and he almost never is! He has reasons for what he does and what he thinks is best, but he's also a lot more emotional than he wants to think he is, and I think that's interesting. Percy's brain is a big old thorny mess and I like to really get into the weeds with that, to pick apart how he thinks and why he thinks it, where his logical errors are and where he remains consistent.

I don't think there's anything in particularly I dislike? I mean, I don't tend to write crack, but that's more because crack isn't where my skills lie, it's not to do with Percy. When it's to do with Percy... I mean my goal is to write a good story and sometimes that means geode method-ing it - to find out what a character is made of, first you must break them. Which I think leads on to the next question-

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don't like?

Because something I don't like is stories which deny Percy's capacity for awful. I dislike the fandom propensity for woobiefication and how many fics just have him simp for Vex and ignore the ways he can be kind of awful, and neglectful of his sister and just generally kind of a mess. I also hate just...

Okay this is layered but, there's this habit in fandom, largely by people who I think are either inexperienced writers or just inexperienced with trauma to... flatten it. To make the ability to relay a narrative easy, to make triggers simple and obvious and the reactions similarly clear cut.

But the thing is... it isn't? It's way more fucked up and messy? We see Percy in canon try to relay events and it's choppy and erratic and disordered - trauma messes with your memory! And yet I see fics which have Percy just blandly exposit his trauma to Vex, no ums or ahs, no pauses, no hesitation, no chewing over his words or trailing off to silence as the memories overtake the present. There's ones where they have Percy perform anxiety and trauma when encountering people a part of things, and yet it's nothing like what we see in canon - his seething anger with Stonefell, his razor's edge calm at Ripley (that's barely concealing screaming terror within). There's none of his capacity for total irrationality (again, Ripley) and it's...

I don't think it's intentional on the part of these authors. I don't think they realise just how much of a shit job they're doing. But at least to me, with my own trauma - it doesn't feel remotely reflective of 1. My own experiences with trauma and that kind of shit and 2. With what we see in canon.

Instead it feels like someone playacting something they don't remotely understand - like a child. And that's fine for the people learning about it, but for people who've got their own experiences and who like to read about similar experiences for the catharsis of seeing a character overcome it or the relatability factor or anything else - it can feel weirdly mocking? Dismissive? Like the author doesn't care enough to actually think about how those kinds of events affect someone. It's like they think our stories make good stories - but they don't care enough to portray it accurately.

And, again, I don't think most authors do this with malice, I think it's pure ignorance, but that doesn't stop me hating it.

On the flipside, I really love stories which actually tackle Percy's trauma and bullshit well.

I also... and this is much more petty, but I dislike the portions of fandom that like to make Percy some kind of sex god, or even overtly horny. Percy is very restrained and very internal that we see, and he's easily flustered. When Scanlan makes a joke about him having syphilis when he has his cough early in the Briarwood Arc Percy's flustered response is along the lines of once! Vex makes a point that Percy has improved because he's good at learning and knows when to listen. He was a nerd who explicitly had nothing to do with court - he's not the kind of person who was likely to go fucking around before the Briarwoods and after the Briarwoods he had awful, personal, visceral trauma and violation from being tortured, as well as dissociating to shit! I highly doubt he fucked around after! It seems likely to me that he has very limited sexual experience and also was someone who was deeply flustered by a lot of sexuality for some time - he notably relaxes once he's getting some on a regular basis which very much suggests to me that if he had more experience, he'd be less flustered!

There's also that Percy is very much someone who overthinks. Who hates himself for his own terrible thoughts and ideas. I'm sorry, but I can't see him easily fantasising about someone he knows - Percy strikes me as the kind of person who'd think even a wet dream about someone to be terribly rude and an imposition. He hates his reflexive awful bad ideas, the Ripley of his brain, he was raised posh and noble with rigid etiquette expectations - I think Percy's sense of propriety probably extends even that far. Repression is a hell of a thing.

Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion.

Percy's a dick, no not a dick like that, no, not a misunderstood woobie, Percy's kind of an arrogant rich wanker and that's half the fun of his character. As I say above, there's a lot of people in fandom who just want Percy to be cool and kind of ignore his capacity for awfulness or petty bullshit, and also who ignore his capacity to be a dork or a fucked up uni kid! He's a traumatised man in his early 20s, he's basically a fucked up uni student! Percy wants people to think he's cool, but this man is a nerd! He invented guns! Don't make him cool! Make him a dork!

A huge swath of fandom is wrong about Percy and I remain narky about it.

Character Ask Game | Send “🔥“ for an unpopular opinion | Ask Box

#percy de rolo #fic things #fandom things #ask game #enchantedmerry #ask

[throwaway-yandere]

Hi! I have my birthday on the anniversary, how do you think the SAGAU characters would react? For some reason I can see an emphasis on remaining Khaenri'ahns like Kaeya clinging onto whatever they can find of those customs, and yeah, apparently celebrating the birth of Teyvat was a big thing over there. (I can also see Ayaka being very happy <3) Have a good day!

YANDERE!SAGAU CHARACTERS CELEBRATING YOUR BIRTHDAY (Hysteric Humanoid)

A/n: Omg happy birthday anon!!! o⁠(*⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠*⁠)o i hope you have a fantastic day too!!!

I'm not sure if you're referring to the Yan!SAGAU Hysteric Humanoid or not, because most of the cast in HH are pretty violent towards the reader (e.g: Aether nearly killed the reader, Zhongli tried to kidnap them, Rhinedottir manipulated you, etc). It's not a very happy story. People don't revere you. They actively hunt you down. Hence, I'm not sure you got the right author for this haha, I don't exactly write happy endings… I don't want to dump all those things on your birthday ;;----;;;

You deserve a happier response, so I'll be focusing on some of your devotees in the fic (at the time of chapter 1)!

Might be a little spoiler-y but oh well!

----------

Characters: Dainsleif, Abyss! Lumine, Baizhu, Kaeya, Venti, Zhongli, and Kamisato Ayaka.

Before the three of you separated, Dainsleif often tried to do something special for you, and it's almost always practical (I say this because you've traveled with him for centuries, and not once did he give you something extravagant–). He thinks gifts are great as a concept, but it doesn't translate well with reality. Dain thought about fighting bosses for you just to give you a present but then weighed down that leaving you alone was too dangerous. Customs be damned. He believes that your safety is worth more than fleeting happiness. You understand, don't you? Being empty-handed makes him miserable too. Please be content with your scarf for now.

Things are a bit different after Chapter 1. He's a lot more bitter and reserved. Dainsleif is not afraid to act brutal around you if it means proving that he can and will protect you. He doesn't care if you don't approve or if you "hate" him. But the upside to this is that he'll drag you along to get you your present. Just say whatever you desire ("leave" is not an option) and he'll pluck it out of a corpse for you. After that, it's just another day. You're both over 500 years old. And it doesn't help that the Abyss Order is always up to something when it's your birthday.

Lumine, however, believes that "fortune favors the bold". C'mon, it's The Creator's birthday! She'd take any excuse to celebrate (after all, she's secretly down too, you know.) Lumine understands that for some people birthdays are a big deal. While personally, she doesn't like having hers become a big spectacle (she misses her brother), she wants you to be bombarded by her attention. Flowers! Feathers! Anything that catches her eye will surely find its way into your inventory. She'd peck you on your cheek and tell you that you deserve the world– and Lumine will not stop until she gives you just that. After all, she already promised that she'll bring you home someday with her brother too.

As the Princess of the abyss, she honors her word. Everything she does is for the home she wished to share with you. This is why Dainsleif keeps an eye on your birthday– she has a habit of conducting special operations during this time. She's awfully sentimental. If he didn't burn all the letters she left for you, you would've known that her obsession is a lot more terrifying and burdensome than you thought.

Baizhu doesn't know when your birthday is. But he DID help you make a fake birth certificate so he pretends that that's your real birthday (it's not.) On your/Jianfeng's birthday, he sadistically gives you a herb-flavored cake, made only with the bitterest ingredients Qiqi could find. The doctor explains that it helps maintain blood pressure among other health benefits– while he does speak the truth, it doesn't mean he doesn't have any ulterior motives. You know damn well he just wants more blood samples. If you could pass your immortality to Baizhu you would, but he wouldn't accept that. He wants to be immortal with you, and he will not accept any shortcuts.

You met Kaeya when he was 18 years old. I won't say how you met, but you've known each other for around 3-4 years. Kaeya considers himself your friend first and being your acolyte is nothing more than a cute title. He's not knowledgeable about Khaenri'ahn customs regarding birthdays, instead, he'll celebrate it his way… so expect alcohol. Kaeya knows that you hated how pretentious people are when they celebrate The Creator's birth. You couldn't handle all the noise, especially since you're convinced that you're an "impostor". He'd do his best to isolate you from any other "unwanted" attention by taking you somewhere only you both know. The air around Windrise feels nice this evening– he'll help you climb up the branches. You'd join him, right? This is a pretty sentimental place for him. He often hides here whenever he got into a fight with Diluc, you should know by now that he's being vulnerable by inviting you here.

Other than that, there's no doubt that he'd tease you about your age, and subtly remark where his loyalty lies. He knew after observing the Twilight Sword that chivalry remains unpaid despite 500 years of service, but he would still offer his body to whatever plans you wish would befall Teyvat. What is love without a bit of sacrifice, right?

Is it really a surprise that Venti dedicates songs for you on your birthday? Probably not. Especially when he did this more than a hundred times? Probably not. Does he care? Well, you can't tell. Either way, if you spent your birthday in Mondstadt getting dragged along by Kaeya's whims then the bard will find you eventually. Much to the cavalry captain's dismay, the archon would climb up the branches just to sing you a song. Afterward, you'd both try to push him out. Keyword: try. By the end of the day, the three of you would be the drunkest people in Teyvat. He'll end up clinging to your arm, sometimes sticking his tongue out whenever Kaeya makes a disgruntled noise. Venti will make sure to remind him that he's known you longer than him, that Kaeya is just a child in your eyes. They're both absolutely immature. You'll, unfortunately, need Dainsleif to get these two off of you.

Ahhh, Zhongli. Gosh, I wish I could just spoil my plans for him but I'll do my best to answer this without revealing much. He's no God of Stove, but he will serve you food, specifically jade parcels and his specialty dish, slow-cooked bamboo shoot soup. With somber eyes, Morax– not Zhongli– would reminisce the times you've spent together in mindless rambles, even if those memories evade you. He'll feed you kindly, asking if it tastes just like the first day you first met. When he doesn't get the response he desperately craved, he'll take you back to Qingce Village. Please… can't you give him at least one smile? He missed your company.

(I love Ayato but I can't include him here because he does not have faith in the reader. At all.)

Kamisato Ayaka is superstitious. Or at least, something close to that. For the longest time, she believed her mother when she said thunder is nothing more than the Electro Archon's way of communicating. Like everyone else, her sense of self did not exist at birth. A 5-year-old will always see themselves as the main protagonist of their own life– unburdened by social responsibilities and the weight of what will happen to their clan. And when the Kamisato Clan almost crumbled, she put her blind faith in one other person besides her brother.

You.

She firmly believes it was fate that you both share the same birthday and that it made her closer to you than anyone else. In times that she does not trust her confidence, she thinks of you. What would The Creator do if they were in her shoes? What would They have told her? And thankfully it helped.

That's why before she met the traveler, she never once celebrate her birthday– she celebrated yours.

"Happy birthday, Your Grace. I will not forget to glorify all that you have done and will do. Please continue to guide me in another year of living."

#yandere kamisato ayaka #yandere sagau #yandere genshin x reader #yandere #happy birthday! #yandere Dainsleif #yandere zhongli #yandere venti #tag: hh - sagau #yandere baizhu #yandere lumine #Abyss lumine #yandere x reader #yandere kaeya

[kats-fic-recs]

Bakudeku Fic Recs <3<3<3<3

(in the best way) you'll be the death of me

Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose. "Deku. You have compiled ten notebooks on me. You know my medical history better than my mother. And I have it on good authority that when you saw me in that stupid bee suit your face was so disturbingly perverted Mineta cried."

Or:

Izuku finds out there are still things about Kacchan he can learn and grows up in the process.

How Was Your Day?

"Hi Kacchan, how was your day at work?"

“YOU FUCKING PUNCHED ME THROUGH A BUILDING! THAT WAS MY DAY AT WORK!”

happy birthday, kacchan!

“The only thing that didn’t change was Deku.

Deku kept his unreachable dreams, kept the idea that he’d be a hero some day. Kept his notebooks, and his dumb All Might pencil case. Kept his hair the same and kept his stupid freckles and kept getting on Katsuki’s nerves no matter what Katsuki did to try and stop it.

And, every year on April Twentieth, Deku kept on bringing Katsuki gifts.

melodies of a heart unbroken

Gifts, wrapped crudely (though that slowly changed until they suddenly looked almost identical to Auntie Inko’s presents) with notes that would say ‘Happy birthday, Kacchan!’ in Deku’s ugly chicken scratch.”

***

aka a look at katsuki and izuku's relationship throughout the years, told through memories of birthdays.

Midoriya Izuku intends to get to the bottom of why he can't cry about love.

wrinkled oranges, pigeons, and other sweet things to call your significant other

Deku,” he says, suddenly serious. “I’m fucking bored.”

Izuku blinks. “Of me? It’s a bit late for a divorce now, I think.”

In the slow, boring routine of retired life, former Pro Heroes Izuku and Katsuki are growing restless.

Katsuki turns to Izuku, his lifelong lover and precious husband, and says, "I'm fucking bored."

Sure, they're way past seventy years old. But that's not going to stop Izuku from making the last years of their life as memorable as he can.

Saturday

“Hey there, you fucking nerd,” and only Katsuki Bakugou can say something like that and make it sound like a pick up line. “Whatcha got there?”

“Laundry,” Izuku says cooly. “What about you?”

Katsuki turns so Izuku can get a good look at him. Old sweatpants with a hole in the crotch. Loose fitting tank top that hasn’t seen an iron for centuries. His hands are wet, remnants of dish suds on his fingers like sparkling jewelry. “Dishes. They’re dirty. Gotta show em’ who’s boss.”

“Mmmm,” and Izuku is proud of himself for managing to moan like that without bursting into a fit of giggles. “Did I ever tell you how hot Domestic Kacchan is?”

[Or: There's something relaxing about doing housework when your job is to save the world]

Until We Meet Again

Change is the only constant in the world.

It is also the most terrifying ordeal a person has to endure.

With the War won and All For One vanquished, Izuku must prepare for the next chapter in his life: becoming a true Hero by following All Might's footsteps.

But dreams come with a price. Now, he prepares to leave everything he loves behind.

And loving Bakugou Katsuki the most makes it the hardest thing Izuku will ever do.

love meme, hate meme

It's time for the yearly Heroic Achievement Awards where well deserve pro heroes get to claim the honor and accolades that they accumulated in the previous year. This year the Best New Hero category is filled with powerhouses with big fandoms that is willing to do anything for their favorite to claim the honor of rookie of year.

But just as the stage is set for showdown of the century between the biggest named rookie in Japan, Deku and Ground Zero, and their respective fanclubs, one single social media post is about to upheaval everything.

Every Maiden Plays Pretend

“You have to promise not to tell anyone about Flame Heart Hero," says Midoriya. "Because the thing is… When I started drawing the manga, I based the main character off Kacchan.”

“Wh— Bakugo’s the heroine? Bakugo?”

For a second, Ochako thinks she’s entered an alternate universe. There’s no way shouty, stompy Bakugo belongs in a shoujo manga. He especially doesn’t fit as vulnerable, insecure Yurika-chan, who got captured by a villain in the first few chapters, failed her first Hero Class exercise and cried, lost at the Sports Festival and cried again, got kidnapped by villains in front of her whole class, didn’t get her provisional license, then got into a fight after-hours and cried some more…

“Holy shit,” breathes Ochako, “Bakugo’s the heroine.”

Public Displays of Affection

The freckled man hums and sinks lower, his eyes roving to the corner of the room like two huge green marbles rolling into the sides of a glass bowl and sticking there. He earns a sharp bang from the fist of his blonde companion hitting the counter like a gavel.

The dishes rattle with a startled clink, but the drunk man moping over them doesn’t even notice.

“What?!”

“Won’t drink with me,” complains freckles, leaning forward like a wilting sunflower on the end of a collapsing stalk. “Won’t let me look at anyone else, but won’t drink with me. Won’t even take a sip! The beer’s all warm and I can’t even count it as a secondhand kis—”

Across the counter, you choke on your own drink. The blonde does the same on his water - the only difference in poise is how quickly he smacks his freckled companion on the side of the head before he can finish his sentence.

A hero reaches out to touch the hearts of the people through their actions. Sometimes, they do it through heartbreak.

Bakugo and Midoriya as seen through your eyes - the eyes of a local firefighter - in an izakaya a few miles and hours away from tragedy.

Kiss Me?

Years after Katsuki left Izuku in the dust as a kid he's reminded of the gesture of affection that had his palms sweating and heart pounding when Izuku used to do it for him when they'd get scuffed up on the playground: kissing his band aids after patching him up.

Fast forward to the present and the dumb nerd is just going around offering up kisses to any old extra in their class except Katsuki and it's driving him insane. Despite him pushing these feelings within himself as deep as possible, it stings deeper than he could've ever imagined.

-

aka: izuku's love language is kisses

#bkdk #bakudeku #izuku midoriya #bnha #bakugou katsuki #boku no hero acadamia #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #my hero acadamia #ao3 #fanfiction #fic recs #fanfiction recommendation #fic rec #bnha fic recs #bkdk fic #mha fic recs #mha fic

[jeeyuns]

Hello! I’m really excited about your parallel universes WIP and need to watch everything everywhere. It’s been on my list for over a year. I was just wondering if you have fic recs for a related topic: time travel and time loops? For Buddie. Thank you. x

omg thank youuuu parallel universes are my JAM. i hate that i even put up that poll. now everyone chose laundry and taxes and i have to commit to writing this epic alongside bethlehem arghughg hghg ghhh. yes pleaseeee watch eeaao. i'm gonna try to make it make sense without having watched it but it's SUCH a good movie. watch it when you can and in the mood for a mind fuck

i LOVEEEE time loops and time travel! for buddie? ohhhh i GOT you:

burn the straw house down by @hoediaz

(buck gets stuck in time, has a break down and then, relatedly, a break through)

this might have been the second one i read ever with a time loop theme in the 911 fandom and oh boyyyy the emotions! you feel like you're going THROUGH it with buck, you're right there with him. and the breathless payoff at the end. YUMMM. love love LOVEEEE the reason given on how to break the time loop

Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by @cal-daisies-and-briars

(After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken.)

soooo i also have to sneak in another parallel universes rec because this one is GOLD. it's more along the lines of Marvel's Dr. Strange and the book 'The Midnight Library by Matt Haig.' and it was just STUNNING. buck pov with moments ranging from confusion to bittersweet happiness to utter despair. the ending was mwah, mwah, chef's KISS. ughhh i love cal. wish they had a tumblr. i'll just scream in their ao3 comments it's ok. i'm ok i'm ok (THEY NOW HAVE A TUMBLR LET'S GOOOOOOO)

tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) by @anxieteandbiscuits

(eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia)

sami is a MASTER at making you scream into your pillow at these two lovable idiots. and boyyyy did i want to just smash their faces together and make them work it out (sorry natalia babe) loosely inspired by the 'Palm Springs' time loop movie. it was just sooooo you HAVE TO have a box of tissues with you. she will eviscerate your heart with her words and MAKE you feel what eddie is going through UGHHHHHH

Benign Fatality by @ardenetoile

(Buck repeats days until he doesn't die in them, has an underdeveloped sense of self worth, and Eddie is the one who wants to step in with him.)

what a fantastic take on time loops! buck only repeats days when he's died. so there could be strings of days/weeks/months where he lives life like normal. and eddie gets brought into it at some point, or more like he shoulders his way in because it's EDDIE and he cares. ending was amazing too, author made it truly make sense! i am so intrigued about the background on buck's ability!

Being Eddie by @cal-daisies-and-briars

(When Eddie starts seeing a new therapist, he’s presented with the opportunity to revisit several days from his past and right regrets that still bother him.)

so this is my one time travel rec in this fandom. eddie goes through the time travel therapy process of the show 'Being Erica' and BOYYYYY does he. it's currently a WIP and i'm about to read ch16 of 20. Cal is fabulous with making you feel for every aspect of a character. they moved from the prior story of buck pov to this eddie pov with flawless precision and godddd i don't know what it is about their words. they are IMPACTFUL. i read a chapter and have to lean back and think through my feelings, like I'M getting therapized. what the fuck??????????????

the persistence of memory by @anxieteandbiscuits

(Buck gets shot, Eddie has to keep reliving the day until he can figure out what the universe is trying to tell him)

last but DEFINITELY not least is this one, my love. if i can imprint this on my heart, blood and papercuts and ripped out ribs and all, i WOULD. i will never have enough time or breath to speak on this fic. it was one of the first 3 fics i read in this fandom. and FUCKKKK did sami pull me in. i think i wasn't even caught up with the show but it DOESN'T matter. she set it after s4 and eddie goes throughhhh it on time loops. the beautiful prose, the sweeping emotions from eddie to buck. the 118 firefam ensemble comedy. the LOVE CONFESSIONS???? multiple????? each one made me teary and one made me outright cry. they were all different and they were all perfect on every iteration of the worst day of eddie's life. i sometimes turn over my pillow at 3 am and get a visceral flash of buck's shocked and bloody face when REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED and have to take a deep breath and rub my chest because sami did it AGAIN and my brain just likes me to remember these moments i've read and scanned into my brain apparently to play on loop

ANYWAY i got really excited. happy reading anon! thank you for letting me rant about the top 6 fics with these themes off the top of my head. <333

#oh wow i love these topics #parallel universe #time travel #time loop #fic rec #asks answered

[the-badger-mole]

I saw saw an ask you got about a steam baby while ka//Ang was still together, and how you said Aang was more likely to cheat (which I think is true) and it got me thinking about the amount of infidelity fics where characters who definitely would not cheat are the cheater (just looking at ka//ang and zutara even! So many Katara cheating fics when, even if she loved Zuko and was with Aang out of obligation to not let him have a world devastating avatar state tantrum, I cannot see her doing something like that. Katara is loyal, even if it makes her unhappy) often outnumber the fics where a character who would, or had thoughts/actions that way canonically, cheat (I like to see the fall out). It's so weird and frustrating.

Here's the thing. I do understand why the Zutara infidelity trope exists (canon compliance, drama, the whole forbidden lovers thing, etc.), and I don't really begrudge the authors or the people who enjoy those fics. After all, there's no law that says that everyone has to be exactly in character in a fanfic, or that everyone needs to have the exact same interpretation of the characters (how many people hate my interpretation of Aang, amirite?). People can do what they want. I don't enjoy those stories, though. I don't see Katara or Zuko stepping out on their marriages. I think they would cut contact with each other if they felt their feelings becoming inappropriate before they cheated on their spouses (which is what I'm telling myself happened in canon, because why would they ever stop being friends???).

Katara and Zuko are much more likely to be the betrayed spouses than the betrayers. Aang has a track record of courting the attention of other girls, even after he's in a relationship with Katara. Even after those girls were blatantly disrespectful to Katara. Him taking that too far and actually cheating on Katara wouldn't surprise me at all. As for Mai, I don't think she actually likes Zuko as a person. She might not cheat, necessarily (one thing I don't see Mai doing is messing up a bag), but she would be much likelier to cheat than Zuko. And if she did cheat, she would make it as humiliating for Zuko as possible. It would be her tanking their marriage in the most explicit way she could, even if they didn't end up divorcing. Which would suck for Zuko because even under those circumstances, I don't see him cheating on Mai, so he'd be miserable in his marriage for the sake of presenting a front of stability for his country. His honor is very dear to him, maybe more important than his dignity.

So there are absolutely fantastic cheating stories that can be centered around Zutara, but not with them being the cheaters. There's a lot of drama to be had in Katara leaving Aang for cheating and ending up with Zuko, his best friend. Or in Zuko trying to leave Mai, but her making it difficult, and him falling for Katara in the meantime.

#atla #zutara #anti unfaithful zutara #if it's your jam enjoy it #i'm not a fan of it tho #THE YEAR OF CONTENT!!!!

[gojonanami]

Hey Sab! I saw your tags talking about how you'd be open to having a conversation about your stance on aging up minor characters, rather receiving blatant hate. Can you explain why you think it's okay then? I'll be honest with you, I'm of the stance that it's wrong. But if you're open to having a discussion, I'd like to hear what you have to say about it, and where you're coming from.

hi friend, first I want to thank you for your very respectful ask — and for feeling comfortable enough to come and ask me about it! I completely respect your opinion and it’s valid— I’ll explain a little what my perspective is on this is—but first:

For others: this is not an invitation for people to come into my inbox and attack me, this is not me opening people up to tagging me in negative posts or messaging me bullshit—if you don’t agree with me, totally fine! if you don’t want to see my posts, just block me. You can have your opinion without feeling as if it’s an attack on you — just as I don’t view yours as an attack on me.

anyway back to the point:

for myself, writing is very little about writing from my perspective, usually it’s about taking an idea and spinning it into a story. the way I write my fics is honestly not much different than I write my own books — except the main character (in this case, reader) is not described much and has a more flexible personality / background. i never self insert myself into stories and even reading fanfiction, it’s more for the story than anything else. just to give some context for my writing process.

I personally would never write a fic about a character is underage engaging in adult acts in fanfiction, that’s just my personal preference. I enjoy writing characters who are older — usually college age and up. I don’t really enjoy writing romance that involves high school or younger, because media is saturated with that (re: every teenage romance show in existence — riverdale, teen wolf, etc). but this is about taking a character (who in this present day would be of age) and placing them in a setting where they would be of age, with other characters who are of age and, in my fic’s case, the exact same age.

I don’t see a problem with taking a character and imagining what they are like older — they are fictional, they do not exist, they do not have rights, they don’t even have a consciousness in any way— and placing them in an environment where they are older and do things that older people do. I see no difference in this and than an author doing a timeskip and showing what the characters are like when they are older. I assume wouldn’t have a problem with this if we ever get designs or a timeskip in JJK, like how the haikyuu fandom did. There’s also a difference between that in RPF, which I’m not a fan of, and aging up real people who are minors — that’s a whole different story since those people actually exist. I understand people’s outrage and want to protect minors from these depictions of them — but I don’t understand why in the case of fictional characters where they don’t exist in a vacuum, AUs exist where people literally make them into eternal beings, monsters, royalty, etc — why it’s a problem to put them in a universe where they are of age and have grown up and get to live normal lives as adults, including engaging in adult acts. Because we see this all the time done in media and also we see minors depicted to engage in adult acts in media today — in books, TV, movies, etc. while I’m not okay writing fiction (fics or not) about that, we cannot lie and say it doesnt happen every day.

now this also leads into censorship in literature and media, which is a major issue all over the world, including the USA (where I live). obviously some things in literature are NEVER okay in real life — but if we start censoring certain things because they aren’t okay in real life, what will come next? we can’t show murder because it’s not okay irl? we can’t show assault because it’s not okay irl? some of these things yes, shouldn’t be depicted gratuitously in fiction, for no reason, but at the same time, once we start drawing this line, it becomes a slippery slope. soon, we can’t show violence at all in fiction — which sometimes it’s necessary for the story you’re telling. for some others, depicting these acts in fiction is a safe way for them to process their trauma — dark romance fiction in general has seen a rise, especially on TikTok, and I think we all have read or seen things that characters have done in a tv show or book or fic where we’re like maybe that’s hot in that fictional setting, but if someone real said that to me, I’m calling the police (see the trend on TikTok of people quoting fictional men saying ridiculous things that have people kicking their feet but in real life would have you putting them in jail). but fiction is a safe way to explore these things without any danger. and that’s okay!

also censorship is used as a dangerous tool to make people ignorant and it’s easy to draw a line where violence shouldn’t be depicted to ‘let’s ban these books because they depict violence but also other things we don’t want people learning about’ — like the book ban that plagues the USA — from books about genocide, slavery, etc.

I think fiction should be a place to explore ideas, even ones that are uncomfortable. And that doesn’t mean I’m saying that means its okay for pedophiles to write creepy things about underage girls. I think we can all agree that’s not okay and that’s a straw man’s argument at best because we’re not talking about that. We’re talking about aging up a fictional character and placing them in an environment with other like aged characters.

Are we going to stop people from writing murderers in fics / literature because we’re afraid it will cause them to murder? We have to be able to distinguish between what is reality and fiction — just because I watched a show about a fictional killer, doesn’t mean I’m going to go murder people. If other people can’t, then they shouldn’t be reading fiction and should be seeking professional help.

For the context of my yuji fic that’s been catching a lot of heat because of this, it’s a childhood best friends to lovers fic. it’s a reader who grew up with yuji, came to college and ends up in a friends with benefits with him, only for her to fall for him. The actual act of sex is just used as a plot device — the point of the story is them falling in love, and reader seeing yuji in a different light. People who are in college have sex (for the most part) it’s a part of adult life and growing up (again for the most part).

overall, we’ve all seen this discourse time and time again — and it’s just a matter of preference at this point. this is why people have tags and warnings — if you don’t like it, just block the person or don’t read it. it’s as simple as that. people are never going to agree on this issue. and everyone is entitled to their own opinion as long as it’s not hurting anyone or themselves. and if all of this sticks to the fictional world, I don’t see a problem

I completely respect your right to have your own preference/opinion on this, and I hope you can do the same for me! thank for being so respectful!

(Also others who disagree with me, just block me. Don’t send me asks, don’t send me hateful messages, don’t try to argue with me, don’t tag me in rude posts — just block me or ignore the post).

this is going to be my last post on this issue. I don’t like to make this blog about discourse. I hate discourse. This is my hobby. It’s for fun. If I wanted to have an argument, I’d go pick a fight on twt. so please don’t bother. I like the discussion, it’s important. But I don’t want to argue pointlessly.

#ugh I hate discourse lmao #this is again the last ask I’ll be answering #if you send hate I’m not reading it and you’ll be blocked so #you’re wasting you’re time #sab [asks] #sab [anons]