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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

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HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO

⊹ 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 part two.

⊹ wc ; 17.3k / 36.1k

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

LINK TO PART TWO

⊹ a/n ; well. its here. i wont ramble too much but i hope you enjoy and if you dont...well don't tell me. thank you to ame for your endless patience. likes and reblogs mean the world. the title is inspired by the poem linked.

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

“Of course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love.” - andrew kane, how to be a dog.

⊹ PART ONE : A CHILD BORN IN WINTER MUST NOT LONG FOR SPRING.

There’s a dog living outside of Gojo’s apartment. It’s a collarless, lonely thing. Clever, too.

Though, Gojo doesn’t know much about its life before it started hanging around the area, he gets glances on occasion. It’s not emaciated and it doesn’t look hungry, but it’s roughened up with matted fur and a healed tear in one ear.

More importantly, it doesn’t bother anybody in the neighborhood. Despite its outward appearance and hostility when approached, its aggression won’t go farther than a warning bark or growl. Most of the adults living in the building know better than to try, but some of the kids living upstairs desperately attempt to befriend it. Of course they fail, and Gojo thinks that that poor thing is growing apathetic to the touches of sticky hands.

The whole building is pretty fond of it, surprisingly. Gojo lives in a upend complex in a metropolitan part of Tokyo and the people here can be snobbish. So it comes as a shock that this dog wasn’t shooed away months ago.

Everyones sort of agreed to take care of it. There’s a food and water bowl outside of the security office - and just last week a sign was implemented of Do’s and Don’ts for what food scraps can be left. There’s a donation box to get some proper shots and paperwork - since it looks like the building's doorman has agreed to take it in if everyone chips in for the expenses.

(Gojo suspects this has something to do with those very kids, devastated by the thought of it being gone.)

Warm welcomes from the residents aside, Gojo hasn’t seen it act friendly before. He wonders about that. It seems hesitant to trust anyone and he’s sure there's a good reason. It’s just that it's clever. To be a stray in this area of Tokyo and be so calm is an impressive feat, so he thinks it probably has some grasp of his own situation. If it acted cuter, it could get a warm house and family too. Though the whole aloof and distant thing does the job just fine, Gojo can’t help but wonder what such a clever creature is doing, turning away from living lavishly.

Much like everyone else, Gojo’s contributions have come in the form of food scraps and some donation money to work towards the 5,000 yen goal. On the occasion their paths cross, Gojo sits near it. Sometimes, they share a moment of silence and Gojo talks just to see if it’ll ignore him. It seems like it’s listening. It always makes a grunt of dismissal when Gojo turns to leave and he’s started to count that as a little victory.

Gojo isn’t intrigued by anything as much as that dog. At least not lately. It’s damn near impossible to seriously pique his interest and yet that clever fellow is one of the few things he stops to ponder at.

Today, Gojo is intrigued by the dog that lives on the street of his apartment and the strange woman who’s petting it like some sort of domesticated baby.

He’s very, very intrigued by that.

The rain comes down in heavy sheets. It’s a Wednesday, and he has no classes to teach so he’s home and preparing to run errands. He’s going about his day as usual, basically. When Gojo isn’t swamped with a mission or the reformation of Jujutsu Society - he likes to play the part of the average man.

The plan for today was to take his unused car out of the lot so he could get some dry-cleaning done, go buy a new pair of sunglasses because his old ones are scratched, and go do some shopping. He needs to buy groceries again ( an uncommon occurrence) so that one's on the list too.

He’s dressed down. A black windbreaker is hanging over his shoulders, tight gray shirt and some comfortable jeans. He’s got on his errand shoes, a nice pair of sneakers and his keys are hanging from a loop in his belt. His hair is styled down and he’s got on his glasses instead of his typical mask.

He has a gameplan, a fully fleshed out expectation of how today will go, and it’s derailed by a woman he’s never seen before. He’s drawn to you so naturally it’s baffling.

You’re crouched just in front of the security office. Dressed in a loose skirt and long sleeves, looking down by the local neighborhood stray. For the first few seconds, he just lingers on in utter awe. You’re carrying a comically cute umbrella, clear with flowers and a pink edge. He kind of thinks you look like a peony.

He approaches slowly, quietly.

When he finally gets close enough to really see, he can hardly believe his eyes. That old, menacing mutt is happily getting his chin scratched by you.

“Oh, uhm. Hello?”

The sound of your voice startles him out of his trance. Snapping back to reality, he glances down to where you are and realizes he’s towering over you. In an effort to be polite, he steps back and gives you his most disarming smile.

“Hi. Sorry for the intrusion, I was just,” He glances at the dog who almost looks offended at the interruption “I noticed you were… petting this dog. Guess I was a little surprised.”

“Surprised?”

And your surprise surprises him even more. He blinks slowly.

“Yeah. He’s not aggressive or anything but uh,” Gojo chuckles, concluding you must be a little new “Well, he’s not exactly friendly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone succeed in well…petting him.”

You’re taken aback by this information. Yeah, definitely new.

“Really?” You glance at Gojo before looking back down at it “I just gave him some treats and waited a bit. He’s such a sweetie. Sure you mean this dog?”

Gojo gets a good laugh out of that. Partially at your cluelessness and partially at your disbelief. He nods, smiling a little.

“I’m very sure, actually. He must really like you,” He says, hands in his pockets. He bends down to join you, but he’s still a little bigger than you at that height “I guess I can see why. You’re pretty friendly.”

You peek over at him. You seem a little shy at the compliment. Gojo feels his interest pique a second time today alone. New record.

“Oh, uh. Thank you. I teach kindergarteners so I sort of have to be.”

He hums. Reaching his hand towards the dog, who sniffs and cuddles his palm (something it’s never done before) in order to win your favor more. It really is a clever little thing, just like he’d always suspected.

“I’m a teacher too. A highschool teacher, though. No need for me to be friendly, I guess.”

You laugh at his joke, smile reaching your eyes as you hug your knees to look at him.

“You seem plenty friendly to me.”

He pretends to think about it.

“Maybe you have a gift for making people come out of their shell,” He says with sincerity, relishing in the fact he’s finally getting to pet the dog in any capacity “I think this little guy could probably attest to that.”

“And you have a knack for flattery.” You quip.

The natural chemistry is noticeable enough for it to catch Gojo off-guard. He grins.

“Hey. I’m not all bad. And what's flattery if I’m being honest right?”

“Sounds like something a flirt would say,” You tease, airy. He laughs a little.

“You seem like you’re having fun giving me a hard-time.” He pouts. You giggle.

“A little,”

“Jeez. How rude of you…” He waits, prompting your name. You smile.

You give him your name. You say it soft and easy. He makes sure to return to the favor.

“And yours?”

“Gojo Satoru.”

You live up to your first impression in the time that Gojo gets to know you as his neighbor.

Friendly. The word he’s looking for is friendly.

There’s other words though. Sometimes meek, typically cheery, oftentimes quiet. You’re quite unassuming, and possibly too gentle when compared to everyone else in the general area. You fit in fine, no worries there. And Gojo knows that for certain because he can’t stop himself from watching over you like a hawk.

He doesn’t really understand it himself. Gojo gets along with everyone. He’s always been a people person who likes to talk and likes to get to know strangers. There’s nothing that special about your connection in that way. You live next to him, directly across the hall. You often knock on his door to give him something that you’ve made too much of or ask to borrow some sugar

And it’s not done with any romantic intent. Gojo is good at reading people. He’s never seen someone so blatantly romantically uninterested in him. You’re not even conscious of him as a man, cemented to him by the one time you came to the door dressed in paper-thin PJ’s. He hasn’t recovered from the shock. One of the many times in his life where he was grateful no one could see where he was looking.

He’s had a few months since your first meeting to get an idea of your personality and what things about you he should keep in mind. You noticed that he’s often not in his house, so you’re relatively aware of your surroundings. You’re often up late because your lights are always on well into the evening.

(He finds out later you’re usually making lesson plans or little gift bags or planning birthdays. You really love your job, something he can commend while simultaneously feeling quite jealous about.)

You favor the lovely spring colors like pink and purple because you have so much of it always on you. You dress brightly in general. And you smile, often, and stumble over yourself trying to be nice to the other tenants. The kids in the building adore you. The sheer amount of propositions you’ve received to be someone's full-time nanny could probably keep you employed for another two decades.

And you always put your best into everything, no matter what.

This is probably the aspect Gojo is most fascinated by. It’s not exactly a novel trait. He’s encountered something like it before. One of his most prized students is Maki Zenin. Her whole thing is kicking ass through sheer spite.

But unlike his students or anyone else he knows - you don’t seem to be motivated by spite or anger or frustration. Even when you are angry or upset - you always force yourself into being more understanding. Into being nice, kind, and still giving it your best if you’ve been shorted somehow. He’s tempted to call you a try-hard. It draws on the line of people pleasing sometimes but it doesn’t matter either way. This is a quality in you Gojo likes all the same.

He's always been drawn to people who are earnest. His company favors such things. He cherishes Yuuji for such a reason, and can say something similar for Nanami. It’s a refreshing perspective. He’s not a bitter person, but he’s not an earnest one either. So Gojo likes that you’re so properly, gently sincere.

For the last few months he’s made a real effort to talk to you. So he’s not just the guy next door, but at least an acquaintance and at best a distant friend. On the mornings you both have classes to teach, he walks you to your car and if he wakes up before you - he’ll bring you a cup of coffee or a pastry he knows you enjoy.

You’ll often do Gojo little favors and he’ll return them - joking to each other about being a good neighbor. An inside joke with each other that Gojo is growing increasingly fond of, all together with leftover cups of coffee and glances that linger too long. Some mornings, he takes out your trash when you’re feeling too tired and you’ll do him the favor of getting the stuff out of his clothes that he doesn’t want to dry-clean.

It’s these little exchanges that make up the bulk of your interactions.

He’s even been to your apartment (another reason he’s sure you’re not attracted to him). He went last week to help you cut out little autumn leaves to put on your classroom walls, and you rewarded him with some lemonade.

He’s still thinking about it days later, how you sit on your legs and the way your cardigan hangs off your shoulder. When you’re focused, you leave your mouth open a bit and poke your tongue through your lips. He’s endeared by it.

By you in general.

It’s all boring and mundane, but that’s what makes it. It’s a luxury he rarely affords. Craves, really, which is why he’s starting to go straight home more often than not.

It’s nice that you’re always there. That you’re usually home and when you’re not - Gojo doesn’t have to guess too hard about where you are. It’s so constant. He basks in the feeling of constancy like an expensive silk.

It’s little luxuries like that, he thinks, that make you so special to Gojo without much effort on your behalf. Being up at the top means he is always fascinated by the place closest to the ground.

What’s heaven to a man born there?

In your fourth official month of residence, the neighborhood dog finally gets adopted.

He’s not there for the big reveal. He hears it from you while he’s on a mission, through a text message and a photo. He acquired your number early on, but you’ve only started doing these text exchanges recently. Reason being Gojo’s had an unusual amount of cases that need his attention and you’ve been very aware of his absence.

(The first time you texted Gojo after 3 days on the other side of the country, he was scarily happy. After all, most times when he leaves - people are expecting his return. There’s an assurance that he will return alive, that he has to. It’s not often people worry.

It was another thing he learns about himself through you. Being fussed about is refreshing.)

Currently, he’s all the way down in Nagasaki. He’s been investigating what the local government has described as an “infestation in the water,” leading to poison and all sorts of hallucination. It’s been causing all of the local hospitals to fill up and the news is advising people to distill their water if possible when at home. Make sure to buy bottled, and double check on your children.

In other words, there’s an unidentified curse wreaking havoc in small towns and rural areas at an unusually fast rate and Gojo has been sent to figure out its origin. What’s really weird is the location. He’s in Nagasaki prefecture, specifically in Hasami - a town in the Higashisonogo district. He really didn’t have much time to do research on the area, save for a few quick google searches and probing questions to his student, the well traveled Yuta Okkutsu who is a hair more familiar with the region than he is.

But there wasn’t much for him to find. Hasami is known for the porcelain it produces. The population is a little under 15,000 and the weather is nicer in spring than it is in summer where it gets too humid. It’s considered a small town, though that number is relative in consideration, and currently the local officials are sending off reports about the water supply.

Even when doing deep research using official means, there was nothing that unusual about the place. No major criminal incidents or occult presence or some other thing that would make this occur naturally. Gojo is no stranger to small town violence or bullying and they can often produce the most volatile curses.

But he’s currently on his 3rd day here, where he’s taken up talking with the locals and he can’t find any specific attitude that would foster a special grade.

It had led him to a conclusion, but one he was deliberately avoiding. That someone planted the curse here in Nagasaki, or maybe somewhere else. Which really complicates the whole affair, because then this is an investigation and not just a situation of fate. It also means that this curse was likely harvested somewhere and that Gojo can’t be sure it’ll be easy to get rid of.

Most importantly, all that fanfare means he’ll be home late.

Given how much he’s longing to see you, it’s the thing he’s been dreading most.

It’s weird. He’s never dying to see anyone, with the exception of an old friend long gone. But Gojo has been desperate to see you for the few weeks he’s been away from home.

(He can’t tell if it’s normal to long this much for a person he truthfully doesn’t know that well.)

But, while he’s away from home, the thoughts of you play on loop in his head. Like white noise, static yet constant - there, all the same. As he walks the rainy streets of Hasami, hands in his pockets - he can’t help but wonder when the next time he gets to see you will be

It’s like some sort of miracle (aren’t you always one?) when Gojo hears his phone ring, buzzing against his abdomen.

He’s drawn back into reality when he feels it. In front of a store that sells handmade plates and glasses, he lets it go for a while. Feels it buzz against his pocket while he settles his thoughts. He examines his surroundings, notices the cars, and the mother with her daughter across the street and the gray sky - all before he picks it up. Your name flashes him on screen, and something itches deep in his chest.

The clouds open up. And it’s still raining, but there’s a ray of sunlight cutting through them. For a minute Gojo feels worldly, grinning with damp skin before he slides his thumb across the phone.

You’ve never called him before.

“Hello?” He greets, wondering if it was an accident. Then you come through the other side of the line.

“Hi ~,” You say, clearly doing something in the midst of talking “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been alright. Very shocked you called me, yanno?”

You laugh quietly.

“Sorry about that. I just wanted to check in. And I wanted to say thank you.”

“I mean… I’ll accept but I feel like I should know what for.” He jokes. Your tone goes sincere, marshmallow soft and twice as sweet.

“You paid the rest of the fees for the dog out of pocket, didn’t you?”

He smiles to himself.

“Ah. Busted. That was supposed to be a secret between me and Mr. Security-Man,”

“He didn’t tell me. I just…guessed. Seems like something you’d do.”

His first instinct is to disagree.

“It’s not like I did it out of the goodness of my heart, okay? It was looking a little sad sleeping during the cold seasons. It was very pitiful. So bad, so sad.”

“Why’d you do it?” You ask, probing but not too deeply “Like… really. It was really nice of you, but it was a couple thousand and that can’t be cheap.”

He relents, head leaning back on the wall behind him.

“The kids, remember?” He murmurs, eyes staring up at the gray clouds “You said they’d be sad if the dog didn’t get adopted soon.”

“The way you’re talking about it makes it seem like you’re doing this for me.”

“And if I was? Would that bother you, hm?”

You wait a minute, hesitating with your words.

“Well…no. I guess not, I just—thank you. I guess I’m just a little… embarrassed about it or whatever.”

“Shy, huh? Cute.”

“Jeez,” You huff. Gojo can practically hear your grinning from the other side; it makes his heart flutter. He wants to go home, to wherever you are “And you always say you’re no flirt.”

“I’m not a flirt. I’m just telling it how it is.”

“Yeah? Well, thanks anyway then. It made them really happy. You should’ve been there to see it. Maybe you can tell them when you get back?”

“Don’t wanna.” He states outright.

“You didn’t even think about it!” You exclaim.

“Mm, because I don’t have to. I definitely don’t want them to know.”

“Why not, though? You’d be their hero, y’know?

Maybe it’s something in the air. The damp weather out closer to the ocean, or the distance between you. There’s a tiny echo in your words, mechanical through the speakers. The word hero leaves a melancholy in his mouth, floating in the back of his throat like liquor refusing to go down. He chuckles.

“Ooo, are you into that kinda thing? Like, super charming knights in shining armor? Or superheroes, maybe?”

You giggle on the other side of the line. If you notice him avoiding answering you, you have the courtesy not to say anything.

“Isn’t everyone? I don’t know. I think if a really good-looking guy saved my life, it’d probably make my heart race a little, yeah. I’d catch feelings over that for sure.”

He takes a deep breath. Everything smells like rain.

“Is that so?” He says, chest blooming with warmth “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed.

He was out there for a long time, at least longer than usual when he’s traveling for a mission. He’s not used to hitting so many dead ends. The problem kept growing, but every trail he’d uncovered went cold in about a day. Just before he gave up hope, he was called in by Yagi. Since the issue has spread into other parts of the city, it’s no longer his solo jurisdiction.

More hands on meant more time for Gojo to be teaching. It also meant that he would finally see you after so long. You waited for him outside the day he returned to Tokyo - wearing a cream colored sweater and the prettiest smile Gojo had ever laid eyes on.

Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed but it’s not entirely pointless. Upon returning - he had a somewhat shallow epiphany about the way you make him feel. About the way he’s affected by you, which is arguably more valuable than some lead.

Being away from you for so long is something that makes him so irritable. He’s had some time between then and now to come into terms with it.

Falling back into his routine, it was obvious. Suddenly there was a gap he’d never noticed before that blew wide enough for him to fall through. He actively avoids not seeing you if he can, and ever since your permissive conversation a few weeks ago - it’s harder to notice the way his desires fester.

There’s not much he wants out of his life. So when anything noteworthy pops up, Gojo is always eager to get a hold of it before it’s too late.

He usually soothes that by reminding himself of your position as a civilian, a kindergarten teacher at that. The responsible thing to do is make sure you’re safe. To play the hero from the sidelines and ensure you don’t encounter anything from his line of work. That’s his whole life's work. To create a life like that, and it helps to stay on that path when he believes you’re sheltered from that reality.

That’s why, when you tell Gojo you can see curses, he feels the entire floor collapse from underneath his feet.

He receives such devastating news over a cup of coffee at that.

It’s closing in to Fall slowly and Gojo has decided to take you out to eat as an apology for his disappearance. He intended to give you another half-truth about his job so you wouldn’t lose any sleep over him.

When it happens, it’s less that you tell him, and more that you keep glancing. Just over his shoulder, with this terrified expression that Gojo couldn’t not notice, even if he tried.

You’ve got your hands around a warm drink, in a white, ceramic mug but your gaze keeps diverting to the place behind him. When he looks over to that same place, a curse is there. Small. More insignificant than a bug, but there.

It’s risky to mention it. Because if Gojo is wrong, it’s not something he can brush off. He’d have to come up with something to excuse himself, and he isn’t sure how to lie out of that (even with his natural disposition of being a trickster.) But when you keep looking, his instinct kicks in. There’s no way you aren’t seeing it.

He doesn’t ask you directly. That’d be too incriminating, so he lowers his tone. Watches you briefly as you tremble in fear.

(A small, small part of him is only asking because he doesn’t like how distracted you are from him. Killing the curse seems like it’d relieve that annoyance too.)

“Can you see it…?”

The question makes you jump out of your skin. You reel back, eyes widened before the realization really sets in.

“....It?”

Gojo looks around the cafe for a minute, to make sure no one is listening before he turns around and points to the cursed spirit behind him.

“It,” He says, thumb pointed at the deformed curse moaning in one of the booths.

When it dawns on you that Gojo sees what you see, you cup a hand over your mouth in shock. He can’t describe the way getting that confirmation feels. It raises so many questions about who you are. More than he had before, at least.

No longer are you the innocent, clueless civilian and that changes every interaction he’s had with you since the start. Though it’s not uncommon for people who can see curses to fall through the cracks, he can feel his own curiosity dig into his skin like seeds taking root. He doesn’t think he should be excited, but he is.

He’s excited watching your fearful tremble. He’s never seen you like that.

“Yes,” You say, voice a little shaky this time “I can see… it.”

He takes the spoon out of his latte and cleans it with his mouth. Studying your expression momentarily, he takes a deep breath before standing to his feet. The terror is so subtle, the kind he can only catch because he’s so familiar.. He knows those emotions better than he knows most.

Curses aren’t phobias. Not illusions or ghosts, but tangible madness. Impactful to those who can see it, but nothing to those who can’t. Fear like that, which can’t be shared with anyone, has a specific look when it shows up in someone. Gojo hasn’t felt that fear since he was very, very little. He watches curses with the same bland expression he might watch a horror movie, but he can understand your reaction at least. He knows it like the back of his hand. All the people he’s saved, who could see them too, always wore the same one.

Still, he’s caught off guard. He feels bad that you’re scared. But the proximity between you and him which was once oceans wide has decreased significantly in no time at all. That feels good. Even better than he would’ve imagined.

“Are you scared?” He questions intently, maintaining a sense of neutrality.

You swallow a lump in your throat, eyes glued to the table in front of you.

“Yes,”

Your voice is a hoarse whisper. The corners of his lips twitch upward.

When he’s sure no one is looking, he stands up and walks over to the table behind him. Pretending to look for something so he doesn’t look out of place. It doesn’t take more than a second to destroy it. It’s tiny, something he’d never think of fighting since it’s so harmless. The curse equivalent to a fly.

He gives it a violent death and sees you look on with horror in your expression. He finds himself pleased with that, wiping his hands on his pants before returning. Maybe you recognize his strength when he sits back down. Still, instead of pulling away again, you fold your hands in your lap.

“T-Thank you,”

He grins at you.

“Of course,” He says “Can I ask you something?”

You nod your head and sip your tea.

“Do you know who I am?”

You look confused.

“...Are you a celebrity?”

He laughs hard at that. Hearing that makes him not want to tell you.

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” He reintroduces. You nod slowly “I’m a sorcerer.”

Another lie of omission. The strongest, he should say. He takes a sip of his latte, frowning at the bitterness. Through his mask, he watches as you fiddle with your hands. He stacks the empty creamer cups together before opening two more sugar packets and stirring them.

“A sorcerer…” You look perplexed. Confusion settles into the lines of your face. Sheltered, Gojo concludes. Only parents, who shelter you wouldn’t tell you what a sorcerer was despite your ability to see them “What does that… mean exactly?”

“It means I kill curses for a living” He replies simply.

“I thought you were a high school teacher.”

He smiles.

“Smart cookie. I am, but the school I teach at specializes in cursed technique and sorcery.”

“Oh.”

You look befuddled.

Gojo thinks he might be an opportunist.

“Do you really not know anything about them? It’s rare for people to be able to see them and not know anything about them.”

You shake your head, eyes peering into your drink. He watches how the image reflects in your eyes.

“Uhm. Not really. My parents told me to do my best to stay away from it. We lived in the countryside but I had to move out into the city for work so I kept… running into them. I can’t like… kill them. And I don't always see them.”

“You can’t use cursed techniques?”

“I guess that’s what that is. I don’t think I can, no.”

Vulnerable.

“Hmm. What circumstances,” He says, purposeful in weaving concern in his words.

“Is it that bad…?”

Not really. His job and the job of his peers is to make sure civilians make as little contact with curses as possible. There are more people like you, and because curses feed off of negative emotions - many dangers can be shafted by just not reacting. Even so, it’s customary for people to have some semblance of protection. A weapon if nothing else, for anyone who can see them.

“Do you carry anything with you?”

“Like a weapon? I have mace for when I take the train late at night.”

“Not that kind of weapon,” He says gracefully. He can tell you’re out of your element, and some small and twisted part of him would like to keep you in the fateful dark.

“What other kind would there be?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” He half answers. Your frown deepens. He puts his palm over the top of his coffee cup but doesn’t feel any warmth “Aw, don’t be like that. I’m just teasing. You’re always so calm and collected, I was surprised to see how scared you got, you know?”

“Everybody gets scared sometimes.”

“Mm,”

His non-committal response leaves you nervous again. Fidgeting with the edge of your cup or the loose threads in the sleeves of your clothes. What a bundle of nerves you are. Gojo puts all the comfort he can in his voice, dredging up some sense of sincerity.

“Well, since it scares you and I’m such a nice guy, I’ll protect you if you get into any trouble.” He says, snapping his fingers and pointing at you.

That makes you relax. Makes your shoulders droop, a smile gracing your pretty face. Gojo can feel the floor underneath him sinking as you tease him. His eyes trace the curve of your neck. He’s glad you can’t see him or where they look.

“Oh, what? Are you gonna come running every time I need help?”

He smiles.

“I’ll be your personal Superman.” He promises, making a silly expression trying to make you laugh. It feels good when he succeeds, the weight of his words softened by it. If you feel how heavy the comment is, it doesn’t show up on your face.

You snort, taking a sip of your drink and there’s something so kind in your expression that Gojo aches over.

“That right?” You hum, smiling over the edge of your ceramic mug “You’re my hero.”

Since then, Gojo’s kept quite busy.

The last time he saw you at all was at the diner a few weeks prior and little has been different since then. You send more nervous messages than before, but aside from that things are the same.

He’s done a good job, he thinks. Partly of ensuring you, partly of instilling healthy fear. Your eyes always widen like you’re caught off guard by his comments - sometimes washed away with a laugh but other times genuine. Gojo likes to keep you on your toes. A bit of harmless fun and endlessly amusing.

Gojo would be there to protect you just like he promised before, so even scaring you isn’t something he thinks of as bad. It’s not untrue that you should be a little more vigilant, but just telling you to do so is no easy feat.

He would like to be spending time with you today just the same as he has before, but he’s home alone instead. There’s been a brief reprieve between cases so he’s on his own to unwind. There’s nothing he wants to do, so he decides on a movie.

Gojo is the only one of his friends who still has cable TV. According to Shoko it’s a luxury purchase but for him it’s one less choice he has to make when coming home to relax.

It’s an American film on now, some psycho-killer classic that he’s already seen a handful of times with Japanese subtitles.

None of the lights are turned on, so the TV illuminates the room in flashes of color. He grabs a soda from his steel-gray fridge and cracks it open, listening to the soft fizz that comes to a slow halt. Pulling it to his mouth, he travels slowly back to his couch. The leather squeaks under the weight of his body. The weight of his back creates a divet that he can be comfortable in. He rests his head, glancing back again at the screen.

A scream rips through the house, agitating his every nerve. He picks up his remote and turns it down just a tad before watching the movie with a sort of disinterest. Horror movies aren’t his favorite, admittedly. He pretends he scares easily, but the opposite is true. Gojo has seen too much for it to be entertaining, no less scary.

He likes movies based on their creative merit. He’ll watch one on its creative merit.

But to be scared? For frights? Not really. Very little gets his heart pumping hard like that. Sometimes the storytelling is good. Other times there’s something cathartic about the formulaic death. The final girl, the call from inside the house. The dependable and clean ending of tropes. Even if it’s messy or sinister, it’s fantastical. Fictitious and detached.

Gojo enjoys that. For anyone else, it’s probably a twisted way to think about it but to Gojo it only feels natural. He doesn’t examine that detachment very deeply. He’s just aware of it, lingering in the back of his head.

He takes a long sip of his drink. The sickly sweet taste slowly coats his mouth. Fizzy and smooth, it goes down easily. He sits up in his seat, making himself comfortable as he tries to pay attention to the movie. The main girl is hiding in the bathroom, and the killers' steps are echoing through the house. The broken, somber string instruments in the background, fill the white noise with apprehension and terror.

Gojo doesn’t feel a chill down his spine. His eyes are still fixed on the screen though, with slight anticipation of what's next even though he already knows. It’s nearing the end and he’s seen this movie before. She’s not going to make it, and Gojo knows that.

He watches intently in spite of that. The door bursts open and there’s a knife in her chest - and screams. It’s horrific and ugly, blood-spattered and graphic.

He doesn’t flinch until the whole way through.

It’s brief, but the thought passes his mind. Lately, the only thing that Gojo seems to react to is you.

But he doesn’t think about it too deeply. There’s no need to.

The TV goes to commercial and Gojo realizes he’s finished his soda. He stands back up, onto his feet to toss the can and grab another. This time, he grabs some snacks too. Piles them onto a plate, dried meats, and something mildly sweet for after before he returns to his living room. Sitting back down on his couch, he scrolls through his phone for anything interesting but comes up short of any results.

He sits up a little straighter as the next movie plays.

Spending time around curses is a necessary part of the learning experience.

Things you can’t learn in all the lessons and tutoring in the entire world. Even though Jujutsu Tech exists, and even given Gojo’s lineage - when he started working officially, he didn’t know everything. You can’t. No matter to what extent you study, there’s some things that you can only gauge through experience. Going through something over and over, like muscle memory.

Gojo spent a lot of his life wanting it to make sense. Wanting curses and the way they showed up to make sense. This is a lesson in truth, divine truth you can only take up in experience. Curses are human emotions, which means that they are finicky and everywhere. And the dangers of them will always look like the aftermath of destruction.

Sometimes, there’s nothing you can do to prepare for why things happen. It’s why Gojo is always grasping for light where he can find it.

Gojo Satoru stands in an empty parking lot all the way in Osaka. He examines the sight in front of him and can’t find anything he’s learned to prepare for what's next.

Fog has rolled in thick clouds over every inch, limiting his vision. The air tastes of smoke, and the earth underneath him is damp. The wet concrete squeaks under the weight of his shoes as he takes in the surroundings. The parking lot of an animal hospital, in particular - where all the staff were reported to have fallen unconscious. After being rolled out by the proper authorities and after all the animals were moved into a different location - Gojo was left to examine the remnants of the incident.

The reports are similar all across the country. Not the location. but the symptoms. People falling sick and ill. The initial reports of a water-borne illness didn’t progress far past the first city. It’s evolved since then. People get sick, pass out and hallucinate and animals lose all control.

The aftermath isn’t very messy so luckily it doesn’t attract too much attention. There’s no bodies, or blood - nothing heinous thereafter. The effects appear later in the people affected, taken over by an unnamed madness that appears to turn their internal experience to ruins. Gojo would’ve preferred the first situation. Violence like that becomes easy to digest with enough exposure.

These kinds of symptoms are always hard to stomach. Civilians get answers that placate them. The truth is that there's something bigger out there at play and they were just so unlucky to bear witness to the terror. With altered memories and the badge of trauma, what they don’t know can’t hurt them.

Gojo knows though, and sometimes he envies their ignorance.

He makes his way into the building. A set of glass doors greets him when he turns the sidewalk, with a blinking sign. Osaka Animal Hospital is written at the top in neon, accompanied by the words 24hr service. Gojo only glances at it briefly before sighing, hands on the bar to push himself through the heavy glass doors. He has to lean some of his weight to get through, and there’s just another set beyond those where he has to do the same.

Then, he’s inside.

The presence of the curse and of cursed energy ignites familiar caution within him. It’s here, in some capacity - or it was recently. The perpetrator is here too. Why that is, Gojo can’t quite understand. It seems a little backwards to linger here after everyones been evacuated and there’s no doubt someone would come to investigate.

All Gojo can think is that maybe they weren’t expecting him. But by now, they must know he’s there too. Gojo’s presence is intentionally oppressive - by nature it must be. Now it’s a waiting game, a quiet one at that.

Hospitals are always echoey and this one is no different. The squeak of his boots bounces off the walls as he takes steps towards the receptionist desk just to see if he’ll find anything.

He leans over it, to stare at the left over records - untouched by the authorities. Everything looks like it was left in a hurry. Strew pens and a corded phone just barely back in place - with computers on a blue idle screen. All the daily documents are still out sitting on the desk with no organization to indicate they’ve been filtered through. No paper clips or post-its telling the next person working about what to do.

Instead of walking behind the counter, he climbs over it with relative ease. Once he’s behind it, he takes better note of his surroundings. He doesn’t find anything completely relevant. There’s painting of animals, and some certifications for bills of health as well - but nothing that warrants his attention. He redirects through the papers in front of him, coming across a stack unexamined. Those answer sheets they give you to fill out so they can assess the situation before meeting you.

They’re split into two piles it looks like, though that could just be some coincidence. Still, he flips through them. Directing his attention to the little comment box with the prompt what are you being seen for?

It’s nothing serious. Normal things an animal owner would be upset or worried about like bowel movements and eating something that shouldn’t have been consumed. A minor injury or a worrisome behavior - but nothing that sticks out. For pages and pages, Gojo flips through the little packets trying to find anything.

It’s not what he sees, but what he doesn’t. A blank packet of papers, with no name for the owner or the pet. Only a description in the prompt box, neat handwriting in a single line.

“Showing signs of anxiety.”

Gojo smiles to himself. Interesting.

He jumps back over onto the other side once he’s seen it. It’s strange. Why would they go to the lengths of premeditating it like that? Whether it’s the curse itself or some third party, it’s an unreasonable thing to do.

“Not like people like this are usually reasonable, but,”

He saves the rest of the thought, sighing. The room has two hallways to go down. Both directions have some lingering cursed energy, but the hallway leading to the overnight area is much stronger. It’s separated by a big metal door, so Gojo braces himself to go through it.

He walks towards it slowly and through the doors even slower. It’s a long, empty hall. The ceilings are low, white fluorescent lights over his head like a falsified halo. They flicker on and off, with the ones at the very end of the hall having fizzled out completely. Gojo can hear, feel, and see everything. He can hear his own breathing and the artificial crackling of electricity. Feel the lingering presence of sickness, the sediments of a curse preparing itself to emerge like a butterfly from a cocoon.

He peeks into the different rooms of the hallway. One half of the hall is kennels, once again empty and left in the same messy state as the front desk. The other half of the rooms look like surgery rooms, with a storage closet tucked into one corner. The hall comes to an abrupt stop at the end, a painted gray wall with nothing to offer at the end.

But when Gojo is half-way through, he hears it. A heart-beat. A human one, slow and steady like it’s not worried at all. Not moving or running, just there. Thump, thump, thump.

Gojo perks his head up as he walks, leaning over to get a look at every room. Empty, empty, empty.

Then, in the very last one is a shadowy figure. The sound of the heartbeat is louder and the feeling of cursed energy is so strong it’s nauseating. Gojo pauses when he peers in, waits for there to be any response to his presence. There’s no way whoevers lurking doesn’t know he’s there, but there’s nothing that makes him react. He frowns.

His hand reaches for the handle of the door with a sigh, the mechanism inside clicking to let Gojo know it’s open. He takes a deep breath before opening it, stepping inside and shutting it behind him.

Even with the room as dark as it, the person inside is clear to his vision. A young girl. Probably no older than 17 with…

He furrows his brow. With a dog, from what it looks like. No ordinary dog, obviously. A curse in the form of a dog, with teeth too sharp for its mouth and fur that looks like a smear of charcoal and nothing like hair at all. It’s on a long leash, the chain wrapped around the young woman's palms.

The dog seems to tense up at the sight of Gojo. The eyes are empty and white - almost transparent. It’s a snarling thing, muzzle over the mouth and clearly on edge. Gojo looks at its owner, the perpetrator in this instance. Who looks calm, black mask tucked over face and long dark hair with bangs cut sharp.

Gojo doesn’t know what to say here. He wasn’t expecting to make contact this easily with a curse and its master. It’s been months now, the authorities chasing after this special grade from city to city. She’s obviously strong, and so is that curse that’s strained against its collar like it’s ready to rip him in half if he moves. Not stronger than him, because no such thing ever happens - but strong enough for him to be cautious.

He doesn’t step forward. He stops by the door and tilts his head. He’s sure she can’t see his eyes, but they make eye contact all the same. None of it makes any sense, but making sense of it isn’t Gojo’s job.

Instead of introducing himself, he opens the conversation with a question.

“Why’re you still here?”

“I knew I was going to get caught soon.”

An answer he couldn’t predict even if he tried. Gojo huffs.

“There was some time between the authorities coming and this investigation. You could have left before then, no?”

“Doesn’t matter. Something would’ve stopped me.”

“What a weird kid. What led you to that?”

There’s a minute where the dog (?) starts barking, but the noise is nothing like a bark. It’s cosmic and strained, and sounds more like a distorted radio than an animal noise. It’s in the shape of an animal but it isn’t one, like it couldn’t complete itself to be one. Gojo winces at the sound, intensified in the closed walls of the room. It’s piercing, and a little annoying.

When she soothes it, it calms down quickly. It’s obedient.

“Uh. A vision. Closer to a premonition. Fate.”

“Fate said you were going to get caught today. Right.”

“Aren’t you a shaman? Shouldn’t be that hard to believe.”

“Point taken. How did you know I was a shaman and not some murderer?”

She gives Gojo a pointed look.

“Look at you. Plus, I can feel that you’re a shaman.”

“Another premonition?” He asks, this time sincerely. She shakes her head.

“No. Your aura.”

Gojo stares ahead.

“...Right, yeah. It doesn’t look like you’re planning on attacking me.”

“I don’t think I’d win. I’ve never met anyone stronger than me.”

“I’m the strongest there is, so I guess not. How did you wanna go about this, then? Famous last words?”

“You go first. I’d rather talk to you than the other officials.”

“Hm. Don’t know if I have any questions, kiddo. My job is catching you, not interrogation. I guess I am a little interested in why.”

This makes her deflate a little. It’s hardly noticeable, but Gojo sees it anyway. The dog seems to react, snarling at her discomfort. He’s starting to understand the connection between them.

She thinks for a minute longer before sighing.

“Well. I guess I should start about why, right? It’s an old story. I came from a small village. I used to walk miles to school everyday and I’d get bullied a lot since my granny was a shaman. It was just us growing up. A nice old house with not a lot of modern anything,”

Gojo crosses his arms, leaning back on the wall and nodding his head. He figures she’ll tell him top to bottom, so he doesn’t give any input.

“My granny died a few years ago. I didn’t have any family so I moved on my own. Even back then, the only other thing I cared about were animals. I started working at a shelter and then I met Senbei.”

The more she talks, the worse he feels. Gojo already knows how this story will end, but he doesn’t interrupt her as she pauses between her sentences. Being 17 and bearing the burdens of loss is something he regards as a nightmare.

“Senbei was my best friend. Most loyal dog ever. And you know, I started my job with high hopes and kept him by my side. I wasn’t always angry. Working in that shelter and watching animals come in trembling every time I fed ‘em made me angry. How cruel and sick people could be.”

Her explanations are jumbled and clumsy. She sounds angry but it’s not that simple, curling in on herself the more she talks. Noticeably, she doesn’t try to justify it. She says it easily, with acceptance that it happened. He thinks that acceptance is harder to bear than delusion. Gojo can’t help but commend her silently.

“I’m sorry you went through that.” Gojo replies.

He’s being sincere.

“Should you be sympathizing with me?”

“Doesn’t matter. I just do.”

Her expression softens. She looks sad, and it’s not like Gojo doesn’t understand. She keeps going though, hands shaking in her lap. Gojo thinks she might’ve been waiting to tell someone.

“I don’t know when I stopped seeing the good in people….I always thought about—about my granny and how no one—no one came to see her. She was always taking care of everyone and no-one—“

“I know, kid,” Gojo says with a sigh “I get it.”

“Then you know,” She pauses, taking a deep breath. There’s frustrated tears pouring down her cheek this time. What a strange, sad thing she is: “That you can’t go back. Even if you forget. It just—it changes you.”

Yeah. Gojo knows something about that, too.

“I was already pretty desperate when Senbei was alive. Just trying to hold on. When he was killed, I lost it. I just fucking— I lost it. I’m sure you understand. You get it right?”

Gojo looks at her confused. She shakes her head, looking down in her lap at the curse in her hands.

“I can tell you're like me. That's why your aura is so tainted and… fucked up and malicious. It should be crystalline blue kinda like spring water—but it’s muddy. Rigid.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The fact you’re hanging on by a thread. You can feel it too, right?“

Gojo remains quiet at her observation. He doesn’t know how to react.

“When you want something so bad, it just— does something to you. Either because it won’t happen or because it needs to take your life to exist. Happened to granny, to me. It’ll happen to you, too.”

“I doubt that,” Gojo says, your face flashing in his mind. He shakes his thoughts away.

“You’re thinking about it too literally. You want something, so you chase it and lose yourself in the process. You’re dead. No longer you, all tangled and in ruins. It’s not too late, but if you keep going—that thread is gonna snap.”

“A premonition?” He says, partially sarcastic. She shakes her head.

“No, a prediction. You don’t have to consider it if you don’t want to. I just thought I’d tell you since you gave me some last minutes with this Senbei.”

Gojo shakes his head.

“I don’t have any reason to be forceful if you comply. Take your time. I don’t have anything better to do.”

Gojo glances at her as she pets it, having resigned herself to silently gazing upon it. He can’t stop himself from thinking about everything she’s said, so he averts his gaze to the ceiling and pretends otherwise.

The silent stretches, a pregnant pause before she speaks one more time. She has a look on her face Gojo can’t read.

“You know, it’s funny. Everyone thinks dogs are loyal to their masters, but that’s because we made them that way. We can’t stand being alone or unloved so we made something that can do both without ever seeing any less of us.”

“You’ve had a lot of time to think about it.” Gojo says, unsure of how to reply. She isn’t expecting anything, but remaining silent fills him with a sense of dread.

“Guess so. You should take some time to think about it too,”

She says to him, petting the curse that whines like it’s been hit in her small hands. Gojo takes a deep breath.

“…Yeah. I’ll do that.”

The case ends anti-climatically.

Gojo finds it funny. The officials came and the young girl was promptly arrested. He never even got a chance to ask her name. He learned through some probing that she only made two asks before being taken.

The first, to keep her curse dog with her, and to send her thanks to the sorcerer who had apprehended her in the first place.

On the news, much later in the week - a news report surfaces. “Danger in the Deep,” giving reasonable and logical explanations for the events that occurred in cities across Japan not even a few weeks ago. New studies show, experts say, here’s a word from your local—a barrage of fancy language to pad the publishing, add depth and realism. The public is none the wiser.

Gojo has to admire the commitment to keeping the peace. The case ends, and the girl gets arrested and put on trial. He doesn’t know if he’ll be seeing her again any time soon, though he’s sure he has the power to intervene.

He’s hesitating to do so. Why stick his neck out for her in a situation like this one? Over other situations, more dire ones at that. She’d make a good ally.

Their last conversation hasn’t left the back of Gojo’s mind. He’s conscious of it, albeit it hasn’t slowed him down. He’s not looking for another assessment of who or what ghosts are haunting him. He’d prefer to put it all behind him now

So life, in some capacity, has returned to its baseline. It’s normal. He has cases but they don’t take him more than three days. He’s able to do his usual chores without anything impeding them. He’s been teaching, no longer forced to make his students fend for themselves.

He’s been seeing you again regularly, too.

He’s getting ready now to do just that. Scheduled to get another coffee together (something of a tradition now) and pick up some conversations. You’ve been busy, though Gojo doesn’t know the details of what.

He wants to know. He’s even tried asking but as soon as he gets close to the subject, you slink into yourself like you’re trying to disappear. Besides, he doesn’t want to intimidate you into telling him.

(Though, it would be so easy to do. You’ve got a record for being a scaredy cat, and as much as it endears him - he is entirely too hung up on the potential for exploitation to admire it kindly. It’d be easy to turn the notches up, pressure you. With how easy going you are, you’d let him do it. Gojo bets you’d cave. He thinks the face you’d make would be entertaining too.

Above all, the offer is tempting.)

In spite of your refusal to discuss the specifics, Gojo does want to cheer you up in whatever capacity he can. So, he’s taking you out for a while and hoping a comfortable environment and the presence of other people will soothe your nerves a little.

He’s getting dressed for it now, rifling through his closet for decent casual attire.

He’s got his hair styled down, a pair of new sunglasses on the table and his clothes folded on his bed before he tries them on. Most of his closet is uniforms, plain black and boring. For now, he’s settled on a black crew neck and blue jeans - ripped at the knees.

He looks over his appearance in the mirror, posing in it. Arms flexed and stretched over his head before putting them out in front of his body.

He takes his time to take part in the ritual. He slips his boxers up over his legs, waist band tight around his torso and clinging to the curves of his thighs. He pulls his jeans up, low at his hips with a belt buckled through the front. Then comes his sweater over his abdomen.

He wants to look nice. Though, he could be deluding himself - lately you seem a little more aware of his appearance. It makes him happy that his good looks haven’t failed him in the instance they matter most.

As he puts on his accessories (in this case a watch and a ring) his phone buzzes atop his dresser. He stops to pick it up, a message from you on the screen. He peers over so his face can be read, then smiles.

(sent 11:15am) Ready ~

He laughs to himself.

(sent 11:16am) Almost ready. Need to look my best for such a tremendous occasion.

(sent 11:16am) For coffee?

(sent 11;17) For coffee with my favorite kindergarten teacher ofc ♡

You send back a simple reply telling him to hurry and come out. Gojo chooses to interpret your embarrassment as a sign. It puts some pep in his step, and he hurries to finish dressing up.

He steps out of his house, locking his door from the outside before shuffling down a single flight of stairs and out into the front entrance of his complex. He notices you waiting at the front gate from where he’s standing.

The neighborhood dog (officially named Pokupan) is asleep by the security office. You’re the same as always. Today's outfit is a dress with long sleeves and colored tights. It suits you. A splash of warmth in an otherwise dreary world, Gojo stands in place as he watches you for an unidentified amount of time. Minutes feel like seconds as you pace back and forth. Your phone must be in your purse because he can’t find it anywhere on you.

He’s delighted when you finally turn your head to look at him. You cup your hand and give him a kind wave which he laughs at and returns enthusiastically. His stride is long, walking towards the gate.

You have to tilt your neck up to look at him (making his chest squeeze unhelpfully) but you smile when you do so.

“Hey,”

“Hello there Miss. Waiting for a special someone?” He jokes. You flush.

“They’re an important friend,”

He tries not to let his smile falter. Friend.

“Then, is it a bother if I ask to take you out?”

This time you falter. Gojo notices it out of the corner of his eye, the briefest brush of nerves that makes it seem like you’re warming up to him after all. It’s gone as quickly as it came but it’s there and Gojo etches it into the back of his eyelids for memory. He smiles at you as you look away, flush

“Not at all,”

He grins, again, even brighter. Then he sticks his arm out for you to loop in. You hesitate again. This time Gojo can’t be sure why.

“I’m just being a gentleman, you know?” He pouts. His frown takes effect as you loop your arms together. He keeps it friendly. Too much pushing and you’ll skitter away right before his eyes. Still, even this much progress feels good. It feels whole and light and good.

It’s a pleasant sort of day.

Not that it’s warm, or even sunny. It’s cold, on the edge of Autumn that dances into Winter. Freezing but bright out, the kind of sky where everything is clear. During the day the sky has no clouds and no stars when it comes to night time.

Nonetheless it’s nice. The cold is the kind that makes you want to cozy into someone for warmth, so Gojo doesn’t mind walking in. The walk itself isn’t very long either. The cafe is near your complex, just about 15 minutes worth of walking. There’s no snow or ice to trip on, and because it’s freezing - you shiver every time you stray too far from the heat of his body so the walking is done exceptionally close together

There are kids and parents walking together on the street alongside you, dogs and their owners, street vendors with hot tea. It’s that kind of day where the cold doesn’t keep anyone indoors, in fact everyone seems to relish in the fact they can run and run and run without overheating. It feels like everything is in sync with each other, comfortable and harmonious in spite of everything else.

After 15 minutes, you’ve arrived at the store front. Not long enough for Gojo, but that’s okay. There’s next time he has to look forward too.

(He tells himself this every time. It’s never enough for him. He can never get enough of listening to you talk. He could probably mimic your cadence without having to try. It’s a sound he doesn’t get sick of―a miracle, another one, because Gojo hates so many sounds―yet there’s one he always looks out for.

There has to be a next time. If he forgets to tell himself as much, he gets so restless he can hardly stand.

The cafe is nice. It’s one of those places that you see on Instagram often with plenty of sweets for Gojo’s taste and plenty of fancy teas for yours. The outside has beige-colored brick and a brown sign decorated with cutesy drawings. You spend a good amount of time crouched beside it, taking a picture or two to later post on your story.

“You have to tag me, okay? It’s your payment for wasting our precious time together,” He jokes.

You stand to your feet and brush off your pants, the material of your coat rustling as you do.

“Yes, yes ― I promise. I’ll have to ask who drew them when we get in there.”

Gojo smiles at your enthusiasm before opening the door for you. Another one of those glass ones with a logo printed on the top half and the metal tinted brown. A little bell chimes above your head as you head in first, and Gojo heads in after you. He has to duck not to his his head on the top of it.

It’s not too crowded at this hour. A handful of people sit among the many tables and booths. Your head is turned to the menu and Gojo trails behind you like a shadow. One to compliment all your light.

It smells delightful inside. Like warm cookies and vanilla and tea. Gojo feels his sweet tooth kick in the minute you two stand in line. The barista is a doe-eyed blonde college student. There’s another employee with long dark hair and thin, narrow eyes. It reminds Gojo a lot of that girl he met a few weeks ago but he tries to put that thought out of his mind.

He sticks his hands in his pockets and eyes the menu. The special item is a yuzu cream cake, the picture of it hanging on the wall like employee of the month. There’s a glass display of all the other items and the menu matches the rest of the decor.

“This was a good choice,” Gojo says, entranced by all the desserts around him. You laugh, turning your head slightly to look at him.

“Are you complimenting yourself right now?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Your sweet tooth is so bad,” You say through giggles “Your poor dentist,”

He gasps in offense.

“I will have you know I keep my pearly whites pristine. Not a single cavity for the record.” He says back, placing emphasis on the last words. You snort a laugh.

“I’ve never had one either,” You repeat back, perhaps mindlessly before saying “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other yet.”

Yet. Yet. Gojo’s subconscious will hold onto that word for too long. It makes his heart beat too loud. He’s relieved that you’re nothing like him. If you were in this very moment, you would hear the thunder raging inside of his ribs.

Instead of saying anything, he scoffs playfully.

“I bet you were such a goody two-shoes that you never ate sweets before bed-time.”

Your eyes widen in surprise followed by embarrassment, where you tuck your chin into your sweater.

“Ugh,” You say, so weakly Gojo can’t stop himself from laughing “What’s wrong with being a goody two shoes, huh?”

Gojo feels almost feline in his self-satistication. “I didn’t say anything was wrong with it, just that you were one.”

Your frown deepens.

“I don’t care for your tone, mister.”

“Are you gonna scold me like one of your students?”

“If it gets you to be nice,” You say firmly, in that Teacher voice that Gojo has caught glimpses of over the last few months. He does a fake salute.

“Yes, ma’am!,” He proclaims, soft enough so only you hear it. You break out into another set of his giggles, melting his cold heart. It’s not the smile so much as it is yours. The line moves up just a little bit. Gojo steps in front of you before you have a chance, his figure shadowing you.

“What do you want?”

“I think I’m gonna get one of those fruit teas and some cake.” You say absentmindedly. He smiles at you playfully.

“Heard,”

Gojo turns to order for you both, laughing through your obvious protests about his paying for you. He’s able to block you from getting in the way as the cashier looks on the both of you bemusedly. When the order is placed, Gojo taps his phone against the reader before moving aside where you stomp your feet and follow him.

“I told you I would get it this time,” You whine. He hums.

“Mm, there’s always next time?”

“You say that every time!”

“So you never know? Maybe it’s next time for sure.”

You seem to realize that this is a fruitless conversation and that he’s not going to relent. With a flush on your face, you cross your arms and pout.

“I’ll get you back one of these times, I swear….Anyway, thank you.” You add the last part quietly. He hums.

“It’s only fair, you know. After all, who else would come here to eat sweets with me?”

You look taken aback but Gojo doesn’t retract his statement. He’s sure there’s someone he could ask. But there’s no one who would agree to it as easily as you have. The environment wouldn’t be so welcoming, either. Someone who would do something like this with Gojo is long lost. It almost feels foreign to him now.

In order to ease the tension, you look up at him warmly.

“Then, I’m glad you asked me.”

There it is again. That warm, sort of fluttery feeling he gets in his chest being around you. He wonders if he’s allowed to be so happy.

The food arrives at the counter, the young woman calling out for Gojo. You and Gojo split the task of carrying the plates, picking a nice booth in the corner with the top covered, You slide in across from him, situating your bag.

You and Gojo go back and forth, setting up everything so it looks nice under the lights. Gojo takes on taking the photos this time, clicking from a few different angles and stopping to show you after each photo.

“I’ll send you the picture later, okay?”

“Don’t forget.”

“I won’t, I won’t. Let’s eat, okay?”

You nod enthusiastically.

You and Gojo eat and chat comfortably for a while.

He’s not sure how much time passes. He wasn’t checking because why would he? He’d like to be with you a bit longer, so he refrains from thinking about it and hopes you do the same. Just a bit more, he tells himself. Until you really, really have to go.

There’s nothing major to catch up on. You tell Gojo about your job, mostly and how you saw some friends from out of town the week before. Winter is coming and you want to do something nice for the holidays. You’re getting along well with your fellow teachers which is good. He was worried about that, but he can’t keep eyes on you at school.

(Not for not having tried. He’s thought about it, but his presence would be too noticeable and he doesn’t trust anyone else to the task)

So it’s relieving. Your only complaint has been that some of the students have the sort of parents you can’t handle. Pushy and involved in a way you can’t ignore but can’t tolerate either. Gojo jokes to take care of them, gesturing to his arm like he’s ready to knock someone's lights out.

That makes you laugh, and following it you have this melancholy look that sends alarms blaring in Gojo’s head. You don’t broach the subject at all afterwards. You talk about everything else you can. The sale on radishes at the market, thinking about getting a car just to have it, maybe visiting your parents sometime soon.

Gojo listens. He doesn’t have much to add. His work is strictly classified to people who aren’t in the field and it’s nothing fun to begin with. He does tell you what he can - usually about some antics his students have gotten into during training. He can at least talk about that.

He tells you about the movies he’s watched, how he went drinking with his co-workers last week, and how he thinks Pokupan is starting to act friendlier to him.

It’s fun because it’s you. Gojo likes feeling like he’s involved with you intimately. He likes hearing you talk. The sound of your voice is such a pleasant contrast to his own. You talk with a kind of joy Gojo could never hope to carry, all gestures and smiles and interjections - trying to make sure your point comes across. How you don’t think the kid sitting in the front is a bad kid, just needs guidance. How the material of your sweater isn’t really cashmere but more of a blend.

Time passes comfortably that way. The drinks and food have been reduced to crumbs and cold drops of tea, glasses emptied and phones abandoned.

But neither of you have made any move to leave, and Gojo is still listening to you talk with a pleased smile on his face. It was a pleasant sort of day, remember?

“So it was fine in the end, but the classroom was such a mess seriously―”

So, it throws Gojo off when you stop speaking so abruptly. How easily the atmosphere melts, and what an unpleasant film it leaves behind.

It feels like an axe hammering on a stop, a sharp and near violent thud that cuts off the end of your sentence. The air becomes tense in the blink of an eye. Gojo can feel it, the sensation of cursed energy. It’s stagnated, little like pebbles at the bottom of a creek. But it’s there, and Gojo can feel it creep over your shoulders like a sixth sense. Like someone skipped a stone over that same water. He senses it in the air like dust in the light.

He sits up straight, focusing his attention on you.

“Hey,” He calls out, softening his voice as much as he can. Trying hard to identify what's wrong exactly “You okay?”

Your hands shake as you lay them flat on the table. You’re almost completely spaced out by now. It all happens in the blink of an eye.

Gojo stares at you, calling to you a second time.

“Hey. Hey, look at me?”

When you finally hear him, you jump in your skin. Your shoulders relax when you realize it’s only Gojo. Normally that would make him happy, but not like this. Your hands are shaking. A nervous fidget in all of your movements that he’s never seen before, like you’ve been shocked with electric wire. He hates it. The taste of your fear (this fear) is different and unfamiliar.

He doesn’t like it.

You turn your head to look at him then avert your eyes again. He can’t follow your gaze as it shifts. It’s too erratic.

“No, uhm. It’s just, uhm.”

“Woah! Hey, Miss. I wasn’t expecting to see you here,”

Everything feels like it slows down as Gojo watches your eyes snap up. Your expression drops again, even lower, and if he listens close enough he can hear the sound of your heart. Your discomfort is tangible. It leaves a metallic taste in Gojo’s mouth as you suddenly curl in yourself, shoulders hunched and peeling skin off your nails.

You don’t even look to Gojo for help. Instead, your words go soft. You become helpless in front of his eyes.

“Oh. Yes, hello.” You bow your head trying to say as little as possible. Gojo stares as you shake like a leaf in the wind. Something ugly curls up inside of him, a knife twisting in his chest.

“Aw, c’mon? What’s with the unfriendly act? Is it ‘cause you’re here with your boyfriend?”

You look up at him panicked. Not because of the comment, but because of his tone. Gojo hears it too. How sinister it is. Like he’s blaming you for it somehow, like you’ve wronged him. The feeling inside of him is so ugly, it’s so wretched. His knuckles turn nearly white from how hard he’s closing his fist. You put your hands up and go to explain yourself anxiously.

It makes Gojo sick. He smiles, turning his head just a little so he can see. He opens his eyes and stares, focusing his vision on remembering every detail of the bastard's face.

“I’m not her boyfriend. We’re neighbors,” He explains, tone as cold as ice but smiling.

Gojo puts pressure in the atmosphere. His natural and suffocating aura returns to him easily. He smiles and remains unnervingly still, waits in quiet for the man to respond. He scratches the back of his head, still indignant.

“Uh. Okay. I guess that’s good. Wouldn’t be appropriate for a teacher to be out on a date like this huh?”

Again. This guy, whoever he is, turns his head like he’s trying to talk down to you. Diverts his perversion and sadism towards you that leaves Gojo wondering what his head would look like against concrete. A bitter, heinous feeling waits inside of him, nesting into his ribs as the sound of every voice in the room comes to be muffled. All Gojo can hear is his heart. How long it's been since he’s heard it.

It’s loud. A cacophony, or a hymn. Divine rage in the sound of his soul leaves has him unsure of how to proceed.

Gojo glances at you. Your eyes are rounded, full of desperation. Pleading.

Gojo hates whoever this is. Gojo wants to save you. He thinks you deserve to be saved.

He stands up. He has enough height on the guy to be intimidating, the guy just barely coming up to his shoulder. Gojo stares down wildly, pulling his glasses to the bridge of his nose to peek briefly over the edge. The bastard stops talking immediately, words coming to a stutter, It’s satisfying.

“Who are you?” He asks.

“Wh-why is that any of your concern? Can’t you see I’m talking to―”

“I didn’t ask about who you were talking to. I asked who you were,”

He hears you from behind him “He’s a parent from my school,”

“Ah, okay. Interesting. Since you’re a parent, we wouldn’t want to make this a confrontation right?” Gojo says, bemused “It’d be a real issue for everyone if it turned out that way,”

Gojo puts a hand on his shoulder, tightening his grip hard enough to hear him gasp. He’s weak, but that’s to be expected.

“So, I suggest you turn around and head home, hm? Since we wouldn’t want it to be a big fuss.”

Gojo can see it now. With a little pressure, he could turn the blade of his shoulder in sawdust and watch him fall to his knees. He’d let out a cry, a sharp pathetic wail like a hit dog. Gojo would make him say sorry to you before he lets up his hand from his skin. He’d do it infront of everyone in the store so they could hold a little fear in their hearts.

He won’t do it. Just for now. If it complicates your work then you wouldn’t be able to support yourself. What would he do if you ended up somewhere far away? Out of his sight, something like this could happen again and Gojo wouldn’t be able to take care of you.

So he doesn’t crush it. He pushes his palms into his shoulder blades and whispers quietly, just so the two of them hear. He pulls away and watches as his face goes pale, a simple stutter leaving his lips. Something about how he’ll see you later and that somethings come up before he turns around and leaves.

Gojo watches as he does. The door chimes again, and the man disappears. The patrons who might’ve glanced turn away again like it was just a simple altercation, which is good. Then finally, Gojo looks at you where you are. Your hands are trembling so hard, a shake of relief in your shoulders as you cover your face. You look like you’re getting ready to cry, so Gojo takes it into his own hands. He cleans up all the food, wipes the table, and even grabs your jacket and bag as you take a minute to collect yourself.

He taps your shoulder lightly afterwards, waiting for you to look up. Once you do he smiles, reaches a hand out to you so you don’t have to think twice.

“About time to get out of here, huh?”

You nod, so slowly. You look so relieved, even as you sniffle. Your hand is so small compared to his. He squeezes it protectively as you slide it into his own, and helps you walk out of the store together.

The air is cold, the same as before, the temperature having warmed just a bit. The bell above the door rings as the two of you finally leave, standing in the street. Unlike before though, there’s something bitter in the air. The sun has hidden itself completely in the clouds and the streets feel emptier, lifeless.

Gojo turns to you with a somber expression, trying to smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Do you want to go somewhere to talk about it, maybe?”

You chew your lower lip then sigh “...Yeah. Probably should, huh?”

You and Gojo decide on a place not too far from where you are. It’s a small park, a good place to end off an otherwise good day.

You have to take the bus to get there, but there’s not many people. Gojo eventually gives you back your things, lets you slide your jacket on and fix your face - but ultimately takes your hand and holds it on the ride there. He brings it to his lap and you don’t pull away even though you seem to fidget the whole time.

The bus finally stops in front of the park. It takes hardly any time, but Gojo finds he’s unable to let go of your hand so he doesn’t. Instead, he holds tight and lets you trail behind. You let him lead you quietly out back in the street. You give your thanks to the driver as the doors close.

He can’t let go of your hand, though he knows now would’ve been a good time to do it. His grip only grows tighter.

“Let's go find somewhere to sit,” He offers. You squeeze his hand this time and don’t look away.

“Okay,”

He tries to keep pace with you this time, instead of walking ahead. Your strides are shorter than his so he’s careful that you don’t fall behind. Your eyes still have that watery look to them but you’re no longer trembling from fear. Just the cold, if anything.

And your heartbeat no longer sounds so hazardous. Gojo is still restless, still fidgety. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin but it’s not really for you.

You find a bench, eventually - in the middle of the long walk-way just a distance away from a playground. Gojo juts his chin out towards it, before turning over to look at you.

“Let’s go sit,”

You nod as you walk together towards it. You sit first, and Gojo finally lets go of you. He sits besides you. There’s a minute where the whole world is deathly quiet. There should be something calm about it, but it isn’t. You’re no longer terrified, and a distance away. There’s no danger lurking in the dark and there’s no cars passing or children crying.

Everything is calm and silent, but Gojo couldn’t feel more unease if he tried. He thinks he hides it well. But there’s that itch again, in a place behind his ribs he can’t reach into and he finds it hard to breathe.

“So,” He starts, breaking the tension “I’m guessing it’s not a friend,”

The stupid joke makes a smile appear on your lips. It’s small, but Gojo takes some comfort in it anyway. You wipe away your lower lash gently, a wet laugh leaving your mouth.

“No, not a friend. He’s uhm… a parent from my school.”

“The one who’s been bothering you for all these weeks?” Gojo supplies. You turn your head, eyes widened in surprise. Gojo lets out a breathy laugh.

“You….knew?”

“Not about him specifically, but I could tell something was bothering you,” He admits, and then adds “I always pay attention to my favorite person, you know?”

The addition has you looking away, but Gojo doesn’t mind. You sigh, rubbing your face with your palms before leaning back against the bench with your head hanging off the edge.

“He’s the parent of one of my students. Akio, he’s a good kid. A really well-behaved one but… too well-behaved. Never raises his hand, never complains or says he won’t do something.”

“I’m guessing that sent off an alarm bell, huh?”

You nod softly.

“Yeah. I figure it was something at home, but I’d met his mom prior and she was a real angel. Then, his dad came to visit. The man we met at the store, and I knew right away.”

Gojo feels his jaw clench listening to you talk.

“But still, you know, my job as a teacher is to be as respectful as I can. I always politely declined him when he would make comments and remained professional. Eventually, his mom stopped coming altogether and—I tried, I really—but he…” You trail off, a lump in your throat. He watches as tears form in your eyes, his anger getting more and more tangible. He tries not to express it, putting a hand on your knee “He just… kept pushing. A-and once, he looked like he was gonna get violent. I made a report, you know, to the school. But you know how they are,”

“They never even bothered investigating huh,” Gojo sneers. You laugh a tired sort of laugh.

“Of course not. After that, I just tried to endure it. And I know he hasn’t done anything technically, but it doesn’t really feel like a matter of if but when,” You explain haphazardly. Gojo squeezes where his hand rests.

“I believe you. It’s okay,” He says as soothingly as he possibly can “It’s okay. I’m here,”

There’s a sense of relief that washes over your whole body and before he knows it, you’re breaking down. He feels a lot of emotions all at the same time, watching your little frame as you lose it so easily in front of him. A part of him is so furious he wants to make it everyone's problem. Another part of him is so deeply sad knowing you’ve suffered all on your own.

And the most notable part of him is the sense of protectiveness, burrowing inside of him. A sense of possession. It sinks into him like teeth, seeps into his blood like the venom of an animal so that he bleeds and breathes it. Gojo can’t shake that deep sense of urgency, a nameless and faceless desire that consumes him. He shudders.. He holds it in, all of it. Cups his hands so desperately so that it doesn’t spill over and touch you, the ink of ruining the soft white of your clothes.

In a world that you have made beautiful, desire is ugly. Hideous and infectious, it tears Gojo limb from limb. It makes Gojo feel on edge. Gojo should not desire for any more than what he was. People always die when he does.

But maybe they don’t have to. Maybe, he can protect you. He can keep you safe. He wants to keep you safe. He wants to keep you all to himself.

It’s in an effort to soothe those feelings that his arms find themselves around your form. It’s the first time you’ve hugged in such an intimate way. Where expects you to turn away - you don’t.

Instead you cling, your arms around his jacket and your face in his chest. You cry and weep and sob and you look so small like that. You look like you’ll collapse and Gojo holds you. Says it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay as you let it all out. It must feel good to finally let it all out, after everything and he doesn’t intend to stop you.

“I promise I’ll always protect you from now on,” And he says it, and means it. If you feel the weight of his statement, you don’t let it show “It’s okay. You can cry if you need too,”

You cry and cry and cry.

And Gojo thinks the call of heaven is nothing in comparison to the sound.

In the end, Gojo can’t forgive him.

It’s not without effort. He tries to do it at your request, because after all the tears he wants to help. He says he can maybe pull some strings. But that gentle heart you have declines. You don’t want it to become a big deal. You feel a little better knowing he knows. In the end, you don’t want it to affect that brats reputation.

“You know how kids can be,” You say, voice full of concern for everyone but yourself “I don’t want to make school life anymore difficult than his life at home must be,”

So, Gojo tries to listen to you. But days pass, and days turn into weeks. In the end, a month goes by and Gojo is full of terrible and divine anger.

In the end, Gojo won’t forgive him. Gojo can’t let it go. He feels so righteous in it, he starts avoiding his own eyes in the mirror. There’s something inside of them he has no desire to look at. Eyes that tell all, Gojo turns away from their gaze. Gojo is angry for you, and it’s not in his character to do nothing about it.

He decides on less of a whim that it looks. He wonders about alternatives, if there’s anything that can stop this feeling from imploding inside of him but nothing comes.

When he decides that nothing can be done, Gojo goes out of his way to start watching him.

Like any mission, he needs enough background information to map out a plan. He wants to make sure that it has virtually no pushback for you. There’s always a possibility you’ll get caught in the crossfire and that’d be the worst possible outcome. Gojo can protect you from a lot of things, but he’s not as confident about the law.

(Not that he can’t. Just not in the good, right way he’s sure you want him to protect you in. Gojo’s love is divine, not right. There’s nothing in this world Gojo can’t shield you from, because he’s the strongest.)

He also can’t make anything obvious or leave any room for interpretation. If there’s anything that feels off when the reports go live - you’ll stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. He thinks in the instance you find out (about all of it, the premeditation especially) you’d probably tuck your tail and run.

(Gojo would find you. But the chase means there’s some time you’re apart. The thought is almost nauseating.)

He likes that you’re curious about everything. In most instances anyways. But he thinks it’s better to leave you in the dark sometimes. Having you worry about it would ruin the point of this. And sometimes, it’s better not knowing every detail. Honeytraps are more ethical than nets.

He’s doing it for you in the end, like he does most things. And the kid will benefit, maybe even get some sympathy from his classmates for a while about the tragedy that befell his father. Gojo thinks it’s a good plan because no one loses. It’s a lot like killing a curse.

It only takes two weeks to learn virtually everything there is to know. A guy like that doesn’t have much he can hide.

The name of his target, he learns, is Nobu Watanabe. Father to Akio Watanbe and ex-husband to Akiko Watanbe. He’s a recently released felon (let off on good behavior) with a battery and assault with a deadly weapon charge. He’s a college drop-out, and has been working a lot of odd-jobs since he was 16.

His personality is bad, worse is his drinking and smoking habits. He’s often found drunk in the street, and has a track record for single nights spent in a cell. His ex-wife is usually the one bailing him out. Gojo can’t help but feel sorry for her. Somehow, he doubts that he’s good to her. He’s a deadbeat father through and through. He only offers to pick up his kid to harass you. At least from what he can tell.

He isn’t as awful to his kid as everyone else. Gojo doubts that was always the case. Akio isn’t a bad kid, but it’s hard not to notice the way the light in his eyes disappears when his father comes around to pick him up. A head always looking towards the floor, hands tucked in his pockets.

It’s difficult for Gojo to feel any guilt about what he’s doing. After everything, he can’t find it in himself to feel any regret.

His target is currently working at a dock, not too far from the city. He seems to work there most days, working at a bar on the weekends. It’s a big company that handles foreign goods that he does physical labor for. Lifting and moving boxings, checking inventory - it’s not a complicated affair.

If there’s not a major shipment, he still seems to clock in so he’s definitely paid some kind of hourly wage. He smokes often on the job, but works diligently when there is something to do. An easy but physical job, he’s strong. Gojo can understand what intimidates you about him.

Gojo, though, isn’t intimidated by him at all.

He waits a week before he takes action. To shake off anyone or anything that might be trailing him, and to make sure that everything is the same as he observed. That his schedule wasn’t going to change. A week passes, and when Gojo has confirmation - he decides to do what he does best.

Gojo Satoru decides to play God on a Sunday.

Sunday is a day shipments come in and a day he often works alone. The pay is better on Sunday and Nobu is the only one on his shift who takes it. He’s not expected to finish the strenuous work because he’s alone for such a long stretch of time - just to make a dent in it. The people at the next shift are the ones who finish the job.

He starts his day as early as 6am. It’s near winter, so the world is painted in a miraculously melancholy blue. Gojo follows him that morning. He knows the route well enough to trail behind him and not attract any attention. They pass together, turning corners and taking bus rides until Nobu’s finally in at his job.

There, they part briefly. His target goes into the big white building and he goes on top. Gojo has to teleport to the roof because everything is gated with security cameras covering every inch of the property. Following him puts Gojo at risk. So he waits on top of the building, hands in his pocket and pacing until Nobu comes out the otherside to the docks. His jumpsuit put on haphazardly, only half-pulled up to his waist, with a clipboard and pen as a bunch of boxes waiting for him to check them.

After Gojo confirms that he’s alone, he lies in wait. He sits and waits - watching as the clouds pass. Watching the open sea, how it remains unchanging no matter what boats pass through to shore. He looks at his phone every now and again to check the time.

It shouldn’t be too difficult to actually do it.

You know, if Gojo turns his infinity on, there’s nothing in the world that can touch him. He can touch it, but it can’t touch him. There will always be a barrier between his hands and the world. Between him and the known universe, a bridge that started burning the minute Gojo was born into it. If Gojo turns on his infinity, there’s no way to leave traces of him behind.

Did you know? If Gojo turns on his infinity, his fingerprints don’t show up. There’s no DNA to find. Not a trace of him in the world that he hasn’t left purposefully. Even if Gojo chokes him with his hands bare hands - he wouldn’t be touching him. But Gojo can feel it. Feel his pulse, feel his breathing come down slowly.

If there’s such a thing as heaven or hell, Gojo wants to ask God about being homicidal. If it was a flaw of human design or their Lord reflected inside of them.

He lies in wait on top of the roof until 7.

When 7 hits, the world around him is still so dark. No one kills in broad daylight. The heavens are murky, sky full of black clouds like puffs of smoke. It’s freezing cold, a spine-tingling chill making its way up Gojo’s skin and hardening his hands. . Gojo waits for the doors of the garage to creak open. When the sound echoes into the air, a metal screech in the void, Gojo stands to his feet.

He jumps to the ground, landing with a dull thud. He comes out unscathed, a cat on his feet. He dusts off the front of his pants. Nobu hasn’t taken notice of him. Gojo takes a look around them. There’s no cameras in the warehouse. Gojo waits alone in the dark.

Five minutes. It’s five minutes when all of the lights go out.

“What the fuck?” Nobu mumbles, dropping his clipboard on top of a bunch of boxes, running a hand through his hair. Gojo waits in silence, watches as he turns around.

When he finally does, he jumps back in shock. Gojo feels a cold chill run through his body.

“What the fuck? Who the hell are you?” Nobu asks. Gojo grins.

“Ah, you don’t remember? We met a few weeks ago! We had a nice little exchange and everything.” He says, voice going higher by an octave. The man in front of him stares, off put by Gojos’ presence. He stumbles in his thinking, his body tensing up.

“Who the…what the fuck is going on?”

“Hey, don’t be so scared,” Gojo says, then uses his teleport to phase himself closer. Nobu’s eyes widen, shocked. Scared out of his wits, with the story of heartbeat like he’s being hunted. “Tough guy like you has nothing to be scared of, does he?”

“W-w-what…how did you…”

Gojo shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it, man.” He says, voice calm and smooth and even. He’s surprised by how his emotions feel in his body. Like he’s so angry that he’s not. There’s something inside of him, the white waters that wade, that Gojo can feel. It’s strange “We’ve got about 5 minutes till the lights come back on.”

For a while, they stand at a draw. No one moves. Not him, or Nobu, or the open oceans. It’s quiet for a dock. Even quieter for a dock in Tokyo, and Gojo’s not even using his abilities. He probably won’t need too, other than infinity - there’s not any good reason for him to exert himself any more than he must.

Weeks of planning, weeks of watching, weeks of waiting. Nothing feels like it matters at the moment. He wants it to be over soon-ish.

It’s not that Gojo is particularly sadistic.

It’s just that, everything feels like it’s teetering over this very moment. He thinks it to himself quietly like someone trying to remember where they last left their keys.

Briefly, Gojo thinks “I can’t go back,” after this. In the back of his head he just knows.

He envies this aggravating strangers' ignorance, too.

“What do you want from me?” He says, stuttering - a gasping breath of fear in his lungs that snaps Gojo out of his thoughts. Gojo shrugs.

“Nothing, really. I’m not short on money, you know? I make a good living,” He says, spouting off about nothing as he closes the gap between them. Stepping closer infinitely until Gojo backs him into the garage, into the tall tower of boxers where there’s no cameras and no witnesses “Hm…is there anything you can do to fix this?”

No, Gojo answers mostly to himself, But wouldn’t that be nice?

“P-please, I have—”

“A son right? And an ex-wife, and a dead mom in Saitama. You didn’t think I came here without doing any research, did you? We’re the same in that way you know, I might be a frivolous - but hell if I’m not diligent,”

He looks like he’s going to throw up. Gojo remains indifferent.

“Who are you?” He asks, this time really wondering. With that hoarse voice of curiosity, of defeat.

Gojo hums.

“Good question. Who do you think I am?” Gojo poses and lifts his hands up. He puts them around his neck, pushing hard until his back is against the stack of boxes. It’s dark but Gojo can see everything. He keeps his open, tightening the grip of his hands slowly.

Nobu tries to spit something out but the words get sputtered, muffled by lack of oxygen.

“Do you think I’m a devil? An angel? God? I wonder,” Gojo says, staring. With his mask on, but his eyes opened wide. “Guess I’m kind of like a boogeyman,”

Gojo can feel it. His body underneath his palms, gasping and struggling for air. He can feel his hands try to pry his hands off. He can feel his body slowly start to lose its air, how he deflates like a balloon. Gojo is unmoving, unfazed, unworried. He’s near motionless except the hard grip of his hand on his neck and the pulse that slows gently under his palms.

It takes 5 minutes, maybe less, with all the strength in both his hands. Gojo isn’t counting. He holds on for maybe 2 minutes after that, just to make sure it’s not a fluke. He waits till the heart stops sounding in his ears and until the body is completely limp except for where Gojo is holding him away. He goes out sad. Useless, even.

When Gojo stops, Nobu’s body drops to the floor with a dull thud. He stares at it for a while, then sighs. It’d be nice if he could just leave it there, but he does his due diligence. Picks it up from the ground with relative ease, over his shoulders.

He walks it out towards the dock - the very edge, before tossing it in water and watching it sink. When it disappears from his sight, Gojo is left with his reflection in the deep blue. He meets his eyes for the first time in weeks, and knows he’s seeing exactly what he thought he would.

His anger has settled, just barely. Just enough to be able to see the change in his own vision. With his Six Eyes, Gojo can see that there’s no turning back.

With his mask on, he looks at himself, warped in the vision of the sea. The vision of him—crystalline and white and blue—murky and moving.

Gojo jumps to the roof and turns the light on again. The power comes back.

A dog barks distantly, over and over and over. Gojo watches the sun rise alone.

The following weeks pass without a hitch. Gojo feels like nothing has changed.

(But that’s not true. Everything is different. The same but different)

At the two week mark, winter has set in and Gojo is spending time with you in your apartment together. Currently, you’re cooking dinner (after carefully instructing Gojo to stay put in the living room.) Gojo is sitting watching T.V. He’s helping you grade papers at the coffee table, humming to himself.

It’s about 7 when the news starts to play. A local news channel and a familiar face on the T.V. Gojo is surprised when the breaking news report airs.

“Two weeks ago, a missing persons report was filed for ex-convict Nobu Watanbe. Sources say he was last seen working at a Dock in Tokyo - which experienced a power outage. It’s reported that Nobu seemed to have gone missing at the time, and hasn’t made contact with anyone since then. Could this be the work of a…”

The rest of the report Gojo tunes out. He turns his head slightly to see if you’ve noticed. Your eyes are glued to it., standing and staring silently. You place your spatula on a towel on the counter.

“We got word about a week prior to this,” You say, breaking the silence after some time without Gojo prompting. He looks at you “Akio started coming with his mom again and she gave me the story. It wasn’t unusual for him to up and disappear, but he hadn’t done so since Akio was born,”

“That so?” Gojo says, nonplussed. You nod.

“I feel guilty but,” You trail off, rubbing your arm anxiously “I can’t help but be… relieved. Just a little. I don’t want the guy to be dead or anything, but it,”

Gojo stops you in the middle of your sentence.

“You don’t have anything you need to feel guilty about,” He corrects, voice stern. You give him a sad look but he remains firm in his stance “He was harassing you for weeks. It’s only natural that you feel relieved, you know?”

You’re not entirely content with the response, but you seem to know well enough this isn’t something Gojo will compromise on. You sigh, looking down at the floor.

“Yeah. That’s true I guess, but still. I wonder what happened to him, or if he just decided to run away,”

Gojo pretends to think about it.

“Maybe. Otherwise…guess it was God’s divine punishment,” He says, continuing to grade papers. He doesn’t even look up as he says it. You let out a puff of air through your nose in amusement .

“Yeah,” You say, “Maybe. I should thank him some time,”

Gojo hums.

“I don’t think that’s a bad idea,”

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #manipulation cw #writing tag #dark content cw #yandere cw #noncon cw #murder cw #yandere!gojo #stalking cw #i tried to add the most major tags #lmk if you need more #ok. gn #part two will be out whenever ame has read lol

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earthtooz · 11 months

Text

x : AFTERGLOW :*+ﾟ it's all me, just don't go !

in which: rin doesn't realise what he has until it's gone. now that you're gone, he will do anything to get you back.

warnings: 5.2k wc, ANGST TO FLUFF, breakup, toxic relationship towards the beginning, rin is really mean to gn!reader, hopeful ending, rin is devastatingly in love and pathetic, reader and rin are adults + he's a soccer player, other characters make an appearance and are friends with reader, mentions of throwing up, mentions of food, both reader and rin cry, just listen to taylor swift's 'afterglow'.

a/n: FINALLY, THIS FIC THAT I STARTED ALL THE WAY BACK IN APRIL IS DONE. GOODNESS. i have mixed feelings towards this piece, but i cannot withhold it from the world any longer. i'm going to forget i ever wrote this and move on! this literally took three drafts to finish.

you don’t know when your relationship with itoshi rin began to crumble since it isn’t an event that can be pinpointed, not a date that can be marked in your calender, and most certainly not a reminder you can set in your phone.

your friends keep telling you that you need to think back on it, that although it hurts, it was a necessary step in healing and getting over him. the more you reflect on it, however, your heart would only shatter into more fragments, with each one piercing you with the memories of better times.

when did his expression turn sour? when did he begin looking at you with such disdain? when did he decide he didn’t need you anymore?

when did rin’s chips of insecurity wedge themselves between you?

the only memory that serves as an answer occurred at 7:00 pm one regular night. if you think hard enough, you can remember how the plush couch cushions sank under your weight, the clicks of the clock that had a second hand minutely too fast, and the sinking feeling of premonition in your gut.

the latest rin ever comes back is 6:00, and if not, he would have let you known why he wasn’t home.

so where was he? the takeout you bought for dinner is getting cold and your stomach is growing louder and more impatient by the second. you didn’t want to eat without him though since it’s something you did daily; eating together as a way of debriefing and letting go of the stress that the day brought.

after an onslaught of unanswered phone calls from you, at 7:15, rin merely texts a ‘won’t be home for a while. eat without me’, and although rin was naturally curt and straightforward, the text had a depravity of… him, somehow. either way, his message causes a swirl of emotions in your stomach; unpleasant ones that begin to grow a nauseous shade of green.

you put rin’s takeaway in the fridge regardless, sending him a quick text telling him to be safe and that you’ll see him soon.

he probably got caught up with something. you’re sure it’ll be fine.

you shouldn’t have ignored that sinking feeling of premonition. shouldn’t have pushed down the unease swirling in your stomach when shutting the door to the refrigerator before stalking over to the kitchen island with slow steps as you prepare to eat in silence. no one to keep you company except your own thoughts and the ghost of rin’s presence.

and when rin does come home almost two hours later, he stills calls your name as usual, you still go to him as usual, he greets you with a tired smile as usual, you hug him as usual, he doesn’t kiss the top of your forehead, though. you ignore it, pushing your thoughts aside because he was home. he finally came back. you’ll wake up tomorrow and this uneasy feeling will sort itself out.

except it doesn’t.

from that night onwards, rin changes. slowly, but surely, the cracks of change manifest in your relationship and through it all, you choose to cast a blind eye, plastering over it with sightless belief in your love.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the queasy feeling in your gut never stills. it fades at times when your mind is busy with other things, but it inevitably gets drawn back into the whirlpool of concern regarding your lover- or, rather, rin.

you think you’re still in a relationship, but you don’t really know anymore. you haven’t seen him in a while. the only indication of his existence that you get are the stray bowls he leaves on the kitchen counter whenever he’s done eating, the lessening weight of his protein powder containers, and the decrease of various food items from the fridge that you restock here and there.

it feels like you’re living with a ghost.

some nights, when it gets the most lonely, your mind betrays you, completely eliminating any and all trust you had in rin.

you wonder if there’s another person. another lover that he feels more passionately for. another lover that his heart had gravitated towards, abandoning yours in the process. perhaps that is the explanation behind his absence.

but no evidence points towards that conclusion. there has been no suspicious deduction of bills from his bank statement that would suggest infidelity, his location is constantly at the sports stadium whenever you check, and there are no traces of a lover on him- not even you.

it is not totally blasphemous to assume that itoshi rin wouldn’t be engrossed in soccer to the point that he’d spend unhealthy and obsessive hours into honing his abilities, but it feels a little traitorous that he could forget about life outside of the sport. it isn’t just you he’s neglecting. his mother and father have been constantly asking when he’ll come over to spend some time together, his teammates have been asking you about rin’s whereabouts and when he’ll be free and what’s worse is that you never know how to answer every time.

it’s embarrassing to be seen as a lover that is forgettable enough for rin to dismiss, so you lie and lie and lie, telling everyone that you’ll tell them later, that he’s fine and just busy, and you lie to yourself. you tell yourself that rin will be home soon so you two can talk about it, and then everything will return to normal.

(your reflection looks through your facade, disheartened and worried.)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“why are you late?”

you jump at the voice that greets you when you step foot in the apartment and the sight before you causes you to wonder just how tired you feel, because rin is in your apartment, where he’s meant to be, for once. not only that, but he’s leaning against the couch, adorned in loungewear and slippers, and the sight is too foreignly domestic for your comprehension.

coming home to a house with someone there feels nice.

he’s lost a little bit of muscle and fat, but his frame is still as intimidating; shoulders broad and built, just the faintest indicator into the athletic body he’s developed over the years. his hair is a little longer too.

“oh, rin, hi.” you mutter, surprise evident in your tone.

“hello.”

“since i got a promotion,” you respond simply. rin makes no move to approach you, no initiative to take your bag and put it on the couch for you. instead, he stays rooted in his position leaning against the couch, arms crossed.

the air around him feels hostile, and suddenly you’re almost afraid to speak. “and does that promotion change your work hours or something?”

(he doesn’t congratulate or celebrate your achievement.)

“i work with flexible hours now but the office is further and the commute is so bothersome.”

rin uncrosses his arms with a thoughtful hum, gaze glued to the floor, mind occupied. you approach him slowly, pulling your bag off your shoulder and setting it in the entrance near the genkan with a thud, the sound sobering to him.

when he looks back up, you don’t want to acknowledge the emptiness in his icy eyes, barren of the usual determination that defined itoshi rin. but if you knew that that day would be the beginning of the end, perhaps you would have done something about it.

when you opened your arms for him, perhaps you would have hugged him a little tighter, a little longer, strained all the stress out of his shoulders.

perhaps you would have protected him a little harder from the cruelties of his own mind; shown him that the world was not out to get him, and that there was a place for people like him in the world (people who can’t see their own value and instead, berate themselves for their waning self-worth because they cannot see the light behind them).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“i’m going to shower,” rin declares once the moment both of you step in the safety of your shared home.

“no, you’re not! not before we talk,” you demand, hurriedly taking off your shoes so you can face him before he slips out of your grasp. the dark-haired turns to look at you with an unamused expression, the way tonight seemed to drag on obviously taking a toll on him.

“you’re gonna stop me from taking a shower, really?”

“yes because what the fuck was going on with you tonight?”

he narrows his eyes into slits, the pure intimidation that rin naturally emanates almost threatening you into submission. however, for the humiliation you’ve had to endure tonight, you won’t budge.

“i don’t understand,” rin says monotonously. you roll your eyes.

“you don’t understand? what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t know what you’re getting mad over.”

“the fact that you didn’t even try to talk to me- let alone look at me, once this entire night?”

your partner looks away, crossing his arms over his chest. “that’s an exaggeration,” he huffs.

“no it’s not!” you recall the looks of pity sent your way when rin sat beside you unmoving and unresponsive to any conversation you tried to make. “would it have killed to show you some sort of interest?”

“would it kill you to not receive attention for one night?” he retaliates.

“it’s not about that-”

“really? sure feels like it. i don’t have time to shower you with all my attention, y/n, there are other things i have to do.”

there are a million things you want to say to rin, a million emotions that you have felt whilst he’s been absent, a million examples of how he’s been leaving you behind and how you’re now fed up of keeping these millions to yourself. yet, not a word leaves you, too stunned by the stranger in front of you to voice it all out.

rin, however, takes your silence as defeat and turns to leave.

“you’re being dramatic. i’m going to shower before i waste anymore time with this lukewarm conversation.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the night your relationship officially fell apart is one you still remember vividly, because it only happened a few days ago.

in your memory, the night was nearing 9pm, yet rin had still not come home.

your heart takes you to him because as much as your relationship with him has caused you nothing but pain recently, you know itoshi rin. you know him because you’re soulmates and where he goes, there’s a fragment of your heart that follows.

the drive to the practice pitch is nothing but heavy. heavy with your anticipation and stress, you feel your chest constrict and tighten, especially when you pull up into the very empty parking lot.

“rin!” you shout for the fifth time and only then, does the dark-haired look up at you from where he’s doing dribbling drills. he almost trips over the ball from your interruption.

“wha- oh,” he turns away just before you can catch the roll of his eyes, the snarl of frustration (one that lovers should never bare at each other). “what do you want?”

you pause a few feet away from him, utterly gobsmacked with the attitude your partner was showing you. after driving all this way, the least you’d want is a little concern, but alas.

“it’s time to go,” you stand your ground. “i’m here to pick you up.”

“yeah, right, i’m not going home.”

“that’s ridiculous! are you not tired?”

“no.”

“rin. c’mon, that’s enough, you need to rest.”

“what the fuck do you know about being enough?” he asks.

the silence is deafening and most hurtful.

you stammer out the only response you can, “wh-what?”

he doesn’t give you anything. unrelenting, he is. rin has always been the embodiment of stubbornness served cold. not finding much productivity in his silence, you continue speaking with a wavering voice. “let’s go home. please, you shouldn’t be working yourself like this-”

“-leave me the fuck alone!” he finally comes undone. “can’t you see that i don’t have time to deal with headaches like you?”

the thread keeps unravelling.

“fucking lukewarm. i can’t deal with this right now, i don’t need you here.”

“fine,” you murmur. rin has his back turned against you and he prepares himself to kick another ball. “i’ll leave then since you don’t need me.”

when rin arrives home that night, he reasons the unease churning in his stomach on the physical exertion of practice as nothing is out of place. the apartment is as kept and tidy as it typically is, the lights are off because you’ve gone to bed, and there is a meal on the kitchen counter sealed by plastic wrap.

he won’t eat it because he’ll want to throw up otherwise, so rin tucks it neatly into the fridge, not thinking twice about the emptiness on the shelves, right where your favourite drinks are normally kept.

the athlete washes up quickly and efficiently, a good night’s rest sounding too appealing for his battered body that felt as heavy as lead.

that night, sleep takes rin and lulls him into a temporary sanctuary, protecting him from the reality that he would wake up to. because when morning comes, he will turn and find that you are not beside him like he expects you to be. your side of the bed is untouched, devoid of any warmth or indicator that you were there.

he checks the bathroom- you’re not there. he calls your name in the hallway- you don’t respond. he scans the kitchen, the study, the living room, and finds nothing but loneliness in each room. there’s no text from you indicating that you were elsewhere.

you’ll return, though. rin’s sure of it.

except you don’t, the hours pass by with rin anticipating your return, and his confidence slowly dwindles with each minute. by the time it’s been 24 hours since he last saw you, his patience runs thin. finding your contact, rin presses the ‘call’ button and is surprised that it does not go through, stopping him after only one ring when an automated voice says ‘this caller is unavailable’.

the dark-haired stares at your contact in contempt, furrowing his eyebrows when all of his following attempts receive the same treatment, but rin continues stubbornly because you couldn’t have blocked him, right?

was it because of what he said? he didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean to blow up on you like that- how is he supposed to say sorry if he can’t even reach you?

checking his private accounts on various social media, he sees that you’ve blocked him there too. running in to the master bedroom and checking the closet, half of your clothes are missing, and the bag you keep on the shelf is missing too. the bathroom lacks some of your products, your laptop and various chargers are gone from your study space, and the heaviness of your absence hits itoshi rin like a train.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you never did come around to collect your stuff. rin finds a little bit of pain in that fact.

he feels like a ghost, haunted by the trinkets of you that remain littered around his apartment. he doesn't have the heart to throw them out, not when they're the closest thing to you he can get.

a few times rin sees you in his dreams. a few times he sees you in his nightmares, looking completely hurt and run-down by his recklessness and neglect, but most mornings he wakes up feeling emptier, no one to turn to on your side on the bed. not anymore. there’s no body to hold when he needs it most, there’s no one to keep him company whilst he eats dinner, there’s no love. not since the day you left.

you, on the other hand, find it odd to live life without a second person in the periphery. you thought rin was the one for you, you never had any thoughts about what life could be without him because you were certain that it would be him that you spent the rest of your years with, so learning to accommodate without him is gnawing you away, the little bug of loneliness festing on your newfound independence.

you’re seated on the floor of your best friend’s living room when reo texts one day, interrupting your apartment hunt.

reo: Are you still coming to my party?

you scrunch your eyebrows at the text, unknowing of where it was coming from.

y/n: not anymore. what’s up?

reo: Why not :( reo: Please it’d be so fun

y/n: don’t you know that rin and i broke up?

reo: Ok but he’s definitely not coming reo: It’s Rin, he doesn’t have a life so you’re fine. Pls say you’ll come

reo: Plus he’s been all mopey ever since so I don’t think he’s in a party mood

you dutifully ignore the last part of reo’s statement. after a little more coaxing, he finally manages to get you to agree to come, but not without a feeling of apprehension settling in your gut. still, it would be a shame to miss out on an invitation from a friend because of it.

besides, reo’s bargain of offering to buy your outfit was too tempting to let go.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“practice was rough,” bachira murmurs, flopping on the sides of the soccer field with a sigh. his sweat causes his hair and clothes to cling to his skin, and isagi takes a seat on the bench beside his best friend, tossing the dual-tone haired his water bottle.

wiping the sweat off his forehead, isagi agrees with a hum. “i know. i just want to go home.”

“i don’t know how rin does this, staying overtime and all of that.”

“he’s insane. it only got worse after his breakup and everything.”

bachira frowns, looking over to where the dark-haired in question is standing. “i feel bad for rin-rin, seems like he’s not taking it well at all.”

a beat of silence passes before bachira speaks again. “you know y/n’s coming to reo’s party this weekend?”

the black-haired wipes his mouth before setting the water bottle down. “really?”

“yeah. reo told me.”

“that’s nice, it’s been a while since we’ve seen y/n so it’d be nice to catch up.”

“i wonder if rin knows.”

“i doubt it,” isagi reassures, “he hardly goes to parties like the one reo’s throwing.”

“maybe that’s why y/n agreed in the first place.”

“probably.”

a cold voice suddenly cuts the two from their conversation “y/n’s going to reo’s party?”

isagi feels his blood cool over before looking up. there, stands itoshi rin, who has a frazzled, yet equally determined look in his eyes, one that isagi has not seen in a while (not since you left). “what? no! where did you hear that from?”

bachira laughs nervously, “you’re hearing things, rin-rin!

but they are soccer players, not actors or professional liars. “shut the fuck up, asshats. y/n’s going to reo’s party this weekend?”

the two exchange a look and their silence is the only answer rin needs.

“hold on, you’re not thinking of going, are you?” isagi asks, accepting defeat and now switching tactics.

“why wouldn’t i? my partne-” he pauses. “y/n is gonna be there.”

“yes but-”

“-you can’t stop me from going, so don’t even think about it.”

without another word, rin is gone, stalking away with a scary determination that was previously dormant.

“what did we just do?” bachira mumbles. “should we tell y/n?”

“nah.”

“agreed.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you should have never come to this party.

how stupid and foolish of you, but how utterly cruel of the universe to let you hurt like this, to let the same pain that has walked all over you for the past few months return; this time ramming into you with the ferocity of a bull, knocking the air out of your lungs

“y/n!” comes the dreaded call of your name. you walk a little faster, breaking into an-almost sprint.

“y/n!”

“for fucks sake- y/n!” this cry of your name is broken, rasped and pathetic, and your chests clenches from how pained it sounds. like a howl from an injured wolf, it is broken enough for you to pity it, luring you into a trap that will inevitably end in chunks being torn from your heart, but you don’t have much left to spare, so you keep running, no matter how badly you want to give in.

except it’s not enough to deter rin, nothing ever be when there’s a goal in sight, especially one so close that he can taste it.

“y/n, please, i need to talk to-”

“-go away, rin!” you cut him off, hugging yourself tighter to shield yourself against the cold and rin’s pleas from piercing you.

“not until you listen to me!”

fury powers you, igniting you with the courage to turn around and finally face him. you don’t look him in the eye, keeping your gaze elsewhere, but he shuts up nevertheless, awestruck by finally being able to see you face-to-face after being so long away from you. all words die on his throat, withering away to nothing as his eyes slightly widen in shock.

you’re just as beautiful as the day you left; perhaps even more so.

rin wonders if your radiancy was birthed by his absence, and if the answer is ‘yes’, he might wither away on the spot.

“it’s always about you isn’t it?” you shout. “always about what you want and never about what others want. you said you wanted me to leave, so i did! what more could i possibly give?”

he gulps, utterly entranced as his heart makes itself known in his chest, racing wildly and vividly; the first indication that it was alive and hadn’t been replaced by a gaping hole in your absence. he hasn’t felt this human since you left.

“i didn’t mean for you to actually leave,” rin confesses shakily.

“well, it didn’t seem like you wanted me to stay either.”

“no, that’s not-” he falters. “it’s… not the same without you.”

you hug yourself tighter. “i don’t believe you, you’re just saying that now that there’s nobody to warm your bed.”

“no, it’s not like that- i don’t like living without you,” the athlete continues, admitting something so heavy with such airiness.

“you can’t just say that after so long. not when you’ve been living without me months before we broke up.”

there are a million and one things that rin wants to say to you, but none of them break through the whirlwind that is his thoughts, rattling around in his brain on overdrive and overwhelming him with the intensity of them all. one thing he knows for sure is that you are the single muse behind all of them, the only thing that is keeping him sane amongst the flurry of disturbances.

then, you shiver from the chilly breeze of the night, and the whirlwind is silenced into oblivion to awaken a dormant instinct of his instead. one that commands him to fulfil a duty that he’s not inclined to do anymore.

quickly, rin takes off his jacket and holds it out to you, as if expecting you to take it.

he drops it when you don’t, hope dwindling in his stomach.

swallowing weakly, he then asks “would you ever give me a second chance?”

“you’ll hurt me again,” you glance away, the street lamps highlighting the melancholy in your profile as rin observes you closely. his eyes outline the curves of your face, each divet and slope that he used to trace with his hands now out of his reach. “you take and you take, but you never give and i’m so tired of it.”

“don’t say that,” he pleads, voice barely louder than a whisper as the dark-haired takes a heavy step towards you. “you’ll break my heart.”

“i shouldn’t love you anymore, you’re bad for me.”

“then i’ll be good- i’ll become whatever you want me to be-”

“-we won’t work like that.”

“we’ll work as long as i’m yours again, just, let me fix us, i’ll do whatever it takes. i’m not giving up like this.”

the first tear makes herself known and paths the way for your downfall like a tsunami, washing away whatever you had built up during your time away from itoshi rin; the good and the bad. the hurt and the healing, all undone by a singular, stray tear. in your vision, he becomes nothing but a blur, a kaleidoscope of colours that you once loved.

a kaleidoscope of colours that you still love, much to the chagrin of your broken heart.

a hand wraps around your wrist, a warm shackle that grounds you to rin like he’s your lifeline. no matter how bad you want to push him away, something in you will always bend to him.

“don’t cry,” he pleads, voice airy and breathy. “i’m sorry, please don’t cry.”

please don’t cry because of me.

“i don’t want to be with you if it means i need to go through all of that again.” you whisper, slipping out of his grasp like sand and wiping away your own tears, rejecting his callous and prickly touch.

rin’s world dims as panic seizes his throat. “please don’t say that, you don’t mean it.”

“i do though. you left me first, don’t you know?”

“-i do.”

“and now i’m not yours to care about anymore-”

“i know, i know,” words are merely spilling out of his mouth without much purpose at this point, because he’ll do anything just to delay you leaving, to push back the possibility of you turning around and never seeing you again. why did he have to break who he loved so much?

still, he pleads for another chance, desperation shining in his eyes as pure longing fills him. you have always been too good to him, he knows, but like the tumultuous tides and their inability to stray too far from the shore, rin will come back to you with his undying devotion.

even if he thinks you should find someone better than him, that you should be adored by someone who could love you so much better, he can’t let go. to let you go is to let go the one good thing that came to him in life,

you exhale shakily. “we’ve loved each other for too long.”

“what do you mean?” he stutters, eyes widening helplessly.

“i have loved you too much for too long, rin,” you choke, “there has to be an end to us somewhere in sight- you need to accept that.”

“no,” his look of absolute devastation causes a physical recoil in your stomach. “no- not long enough, it’ll never be enough, fuck- even forever won’t be long enough, i can’t let you go like that.”

he crosses the distance between you in the blink of an eye. you can’t see him clearly under the dim light of the night, but you can feel him, so close and so overwhelming, but so cold as his hands come to grasp yours. his grip is firm, not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel his determination.

tears dance along his lashline.

“please, tell me you’re still mine,” begs the dark-haired. rin’s tears are diamonds, in which they are precious, but they also crumble into a precious waterfall that rolls down his cheeks, tempting you towards his beautiful ruination.

words continue to tumble out of him, each one sharpened to pierce your defences. “tell me that we’ll be fine, that i’m all you want, please. i’m so fucking sorry for hurting you, but please don’t leave me.

i’ll fix us, i’ll become everything you need, i’ll be good.”

the dark-haired’s hands find their way to your face, cupping each side of your jaw with a scary gentleness; one that you’d never expect from someone as ragged as itoshi rin.

“i love you,” he declares, so raw, so full of passion that it makes you sick. the rin you know never lets his heart on his sleeve like this.

you cave. “how will you fix us?”

slowly. he’ll rebuild everything that you have given him.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

first, rin takes you out on dates again. calls you beautiful and really means it.

second, rin leaves practice at regular times, and listens when you tell him that he needs to take care of himself. because for you, he will.

third, rin picks you up from work. his practice ends a little earlier than your job, so he always goes the extra mile to be there for you at the end of the day. even if you tell him that he doesn’t need to go out of his way to do so, he’d rather see you get home safe than only receiving a mere text of confirmation.

plus, it gives rin more time with you.

fourth, rin sends you regular gifts. from bouquets, to random items that he just knows you’d like, they all get left at your door at the best times.

fifth, rin lets you set the pace. you wanted things to go slow so that you two didn’t have to force anything back in place. no point recreating something that’s in the past, you reasoned, so might as well try again.

sixth, rin takes his time in welcoming you back into his space. it’s a few months after you two have reconciled, and majority of your items are back where they belong (you poked fun at him for not being able to throw away the stuff you did leave, and he just mumbled something indecipherable, all embarrassed, before moving on). the life has been restored in his apartment, now filled with more remnants of you loitering around his space: your various chargers and laptop, your products, your clothes, they all sit beside his things like that’s where they are meant to be.

and you are back in his arms, because it is where you are meant to be (more for his sake than yours).

rin stirs awake one morning under the gentle light of the morning sun and you’re there beside him, occupying the space that he has left devastatingly empty. mattress still curved to your frame as he never dared infiltrate it, in hopes that you would return.

now that you have, you feel too warm, too familiar, too unreal that he wonders if you’re just another dream of his.

then, you stir, and press yourself closer against his chest, face to face with the heart that only beats for you.

a stray tear rolls down rin’s face; a salvation for the utter relief he feels, as well as the overwhelming amount of adoration that he stores for you. his ‘i love you’ is sweeter than the chirping of the birds outside, and certainly more meaningful as he wraps more of himself around your sleeping figure, hoping to attach all of him to all of you.

you’re home. he won’t let you leave again.

#itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock fluff #blue lock rin #itoshi x reader #blue lock itoshi rin #itoshi rin drabble #itoshi rin x gn!reader #I HATE THIS SO MUCH

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help-itrappedmyself · 3 months

Text

Danny punches a Clown Part 7

Masterpost

Danny wakes up some time later. Red and Agent A are there waiting for him in chairs on either side of his bed.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Less tired at least.” Danny was well enough he could feel his wounds trying to heal. “Could probably use some food though.”

“I will go retrieve it for you now that you are awake.” Agent A walks out of the med area.

“You feel up to meeting a few people? They’re going to be around so you should know who they are.”

“I guess so.” Danny sits up on the bed, bringing his knees to his chest.

Red leans out past the curtain and waves some people over. When he takes his seat, a man in a blue and black suit with a mask on and someone in an all-black suit with a head covering that comes down over his eyes comes in behind him. They stay standing by the curtain.

“You met Nightwing earlier, and this is Batman.” Red introduces. Nightwing waves when Red says his name. “We all work together here.”

Danny nods.

“Hey, Danny!”Dick comes over to sit in the chair on the other side of Danny’s bed. “We have a few questions that we would like to ask you if you’re feeling up for it.”

Danny shrugs.

“Okay, well we know you haven’t been in Gotham long, where did you come from?”

Danny wonders if he tells them a different dimension if they would believe him. If they would try to send him back. “Illinois.”

Nightwing let out a short whistle. “That’s a long way Danny.”Danny snorts at that. “Did you come here by yourself?”

“Yeah.” Danny starts picking at the edges of the blankets, trying not to look anyone in the eye- not that he could, they all have some form of mask on.

“Okay. Well, we have some concerns. Don’t know if you remember what you were talking about before you went to sleep, but you said some things about being shot at a lot, by your parents and some other people.”

“What part of that is a question?” Danny leans forward and rests his cheek on his knees, watching himself pick at the blanket. He found a loose thread that he’s started twirling around his fingers.

“Can you tell us more about the people who were shooting at you? We’d like to look into them.”

Something in the tone Nightwing is using makes him sound all clinical. Like a social worker. Or a cop. It shouldn’t matter really because the people that did this to him are inaccessible unless they have some way to dimension hop.

“Doesn’t matter anymore, I’m here now.”

“What made you come here? Do you have a family member, or friends that you were meeting?”

“For real, are you a social worker? Psychologist, cop, what.” Danny looks up at him. “You brought me to a cave f and you’re all wearing masks, but you’re talking to me like I’m going to freak out or something. You can stop acting like I’m a child. I know what’s happened to me. Frankly, the fact that I’m trapped in a cave with people dressed the way you are is more concerning for me than being back on the street. So can we get on with you doing whatever you’re going to do?”

“We’re not going to do anything Danny.” Red leans towards him. “We just want to make sure you have somewhere to go.”

“I don’t.” Danny states plainly. He knows his circumstances and he can’t risk going back home for a while, shouldn’t go back at all except to grab his stuff and leave again.

The three share a few glances back and forth, having quite an in-depth silent conversation. Danny rolls his eyes and goes to stand up, they all immediately try and stop him.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Nightwing asks.

“Where are you trying to go?” Comes from Red.

“You’re injured, you should stay in bed.” Comes from Batman.

Just then, Agent A pushes aside the curtain, walking in with a tray.

“I do hope you aren’t overwhelming the patient.” He brings the tray over, Danny straightens his legs and A situates the tray in his lap. “This boy needs to eat, and to rest. You don’t need to worry about where he’s going until he is fit to be out of bed. He’s not going anywhere until he’s improved.”

“Sir, I’m sure it’ll be fine-” Danny starts.

“Nonsense. I will not stand for it. You need proper treatment or your wounds will get infected. Now, eat or your body will not have the necessary fuel to heal.”

Danny bows his head and looks at the tray in front of him. A brought him chicken noodle soup, he starts to eat as A shepherds everyone back out and closes the curtain behind them.

“Now, I know this cannot be easy for you, being injured and alone.” A comes to sit in the chair that Red vacated. “I assure you that you have a place here at least until you are better. Even if you wish to leave now, you will not be able to get better on the streets.”

“Thank you.” Danny says. “I didn’t mean to snap at them.”

“I’m sure they will forgive you for it, you are under a lot of stress right now.”

Danny nods. “Thank you for the food. It’s amazing.”

“Of course, Mister Danny. I will be making sure you are well nourished while you are with us. Please, let me know if you have any preferences.”

“Anything that’s not alive is good for me.”

Agent A just looks at him. “You did mention something about fighting your food last night. I had thought you were talking out of a bit of delirium.”

“Oh, no that used to happen. The chemicals my parents used reanimated the food sometimes. Had to fight some hot dogs. A chicken. Our kitchen was a hazard.”

“I dare say so.” A has a very scrunched up look on his face. “Rest assured nothing of the sort has ever happened in my kitchen.”

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nochukoo97 · 10 months

Text

nevertheless;

pairing: bestfriend!jungkook x reader

summary: jungkook has a hard time showing how much he really does care for you, but at the same time you can’t help but convince yourself your best friend will never love you back the same way you do, or will he?

word count: 5k+

teaser

“Stay here,” You command Jungkook, who’s currently pouting a little too dramatically as he sulks on the bench.

“Don’t move,” You look back, giving him a stern gaze as you make your way to get the first aid kit near the soccer field.

Jungkook had been roughhousing with his teammates, they had been play-wrestling on the soccer field for a good half an hour, not before someone actually got hurt.

And that someone was your best friend, Jeon Jungkook.

So now you have the duty to patch up the guy, who had been insisting his bleeding cut would magically heal on its own.

You refuse to leave it untreated.

When you jog back to where Jungkook was waiting, you spot him crouched near the patch of grass, a few steps away from the bench you had instructed him to sit on.

“Yah! Are you a puppy or something? I told you to sit still!” You scold him, and he quickly whips his head around and frowns,

“I only took like three steps away! I swear I sat there for really long, just got distracted,” He’s whining, sitting back on the bench as he gives you those innocent puppy eyes.

It’s on purpose, to make you stop nagging at him.

“Don’t trick me into not scolding you,” You flick his forehead gently, “What if you fell and hurt yourself again, huh?”

Jungkook scoffs, “Yah, I’m not that fragile, in fact, it’ll probably be you who would be falling,”

He crosses his arms, looking away from you.

“Okay, then fix yourself up,” You shove the first aid kit into his crossed arms, forcing him to quickly catch it before it falls onto the ground.

Jungkook settles the box next to him before dramatically clutching his cheek.

“Ahh” He hisses, eyebrows furrowing as he touches the bleeding cut on his cheek.

“Yah! Don’t touch it! You’ll get it infected! Aish-” You sigh, swatting his hand away as he looks back up at you with those eyes again.

“Fine, fine,” You shake your head at the boy looking up at you, “Stay still,”

Jungkook’s eyes never leave your face the whole time you clean up his cut, even when the alcohol stung his cut, causing him to hiss and grab onto your smaller hand, his eyes never left your pretty face.

He notices the glow on your face from the spot light above the soccer field, your lips slightly pink from the tinted lip balm you bought when the both of you went to the mall. Your eyelashes look more curled than usual, maybe you used the curler you had bought when you dragged him into the makeup store.

Your eyes are focused on repairing the cut on his face, Jungkook stares right into them in a daze.

“Okay, done,” You whisper to yourself, turning to scan his face, but Jungkook has love struck eyes as he stares back at you.

“Kook,” Your voice snaps him out of his daze.

“Yeah?”

“You’re done,” You pat his shoulder, getting him to stand up.

“Thanks, ___” He smiles sweetly at you, making your heart thump in your chest.

He’s your best friend, you shouldn’t be feeling this way.

Jungkook stands up, his stance now towering over you, as he walks towards the grass patch.

You watch as he bends down, picking up something from the grass and hiding it behind his back as he walks back to you.

“Here’s my thank you gift,” Jungkook grins at you, revealing what he was hiding, a bunch of small flowers that he had plucked while you went to get the first aid kit.

“Oh? Thanks Koo,” You smile, taking the flowers from him.

Jungkook ruffles your hair, before bidding goodbye, telling you to not go home too late.

You stare at the flowers in your hand as you clutch your poor heart, beating way too fast.

Maybe you have a chance with him.

You should definitely not be eavesdropping on this conversation right now, but you can’t help yourself, after all, your name coming from Jungkook’s voice caught your attention.

“Yah, so do you like her?” There’s an unrecognisable voice in a hushed whisper, probably one of Jungkook’s friends

“Nah, she’s my friend,”

Ouch, that fucking hurt.

You could’ve gone about your day not knowing this, yet you’re somewhat happy that you did, or else you would still have the slightest glimpse of hope that he would even like you.

Your heart shattered into a million pieces.

You and Jungkook had made plans to go over to his house today, something you two often did on a weekly basis. Yet with what you heard just now, you seriously did not feel like getting your heart played again.

jungkook: we’re watching that kdrama i told you about later kay

You read his text, before looking up, locking eyes with him from where he was sitting, all the way at the other end of the classroom.

Shit, don’t fall for his antics.

You look back down at your phone, replying:

you: okay

You quickly lock your phone and shove it into your bag before your professor can catch you.

The phone now in your bag vibrates again, Jungkook’s looking at you expectedly, waiting for a reply. Instead, you ignore the buzzing, looking straight at the board filled with math equations.

When the class ends, Jungkook immediately rushes to your table, as the classroom clears, the rest of the students all rushing out to go home.

“Yah, why didn’t you answer my text,” He drags the chair near your table and sits nexts to you, but you don’t even spare him a glance, shrugging as you focus on packing up your stuff.

“Did I do something wrong?” Jungkook frowns, noticing a change in your mood, you obviously were dejected about something, but he simply couldn’t piece it together.

You don’t respond to that, you don’t know what your answer is to that question. Technically he didn’t do anything wrong, he had a choice in his feelings towards you, but he also was the reason why you felt this way.

“I think I’m gonna go home, sorry,” You whisper, not daring to look at him.

“What? Why? Did I make you mad? Or is it Junghyeon?” He’s panicking, you can tell, you feel bad for making him feel as if he had done something wrong, even though he had technically done nothing wrong.

You frown at the name mentioned.

Junghyeon was your ex boyfriend, he had been nasty to you throughout the relationship, and Jungkook had been the one to help you out of it. He had been the one to open your eyes and realise what a shit boyfriend Junghyeon was. Even up to now Jungkook will defend you if Junghyeon talks shit and spreads rumours about you.

Another reason to feel bad for treating Jungkook so differently all of a sudden. Just because of what you heard while eavesdropping. You had no reason to treat him this way, yet it fucking hurt your heart everytime he gave you butterflies, when in your head you’re telling yourself, he doesn’t like you like that.

“It’s nothing Kook, just, I’m gonna head back,” You sigh, swinging your bag over your shoulder, as Jungkook stands up with you, holding your arm.

“Let go,” You struggle against his hold, but he doesn’t let you leave.

“Not until you tell me why you’re being like that,” He shakes his head, eyes filled with concern and panic, he doesn’t know what happened, not a single clue.

“It’s nothing Kook, just let me go,” You almost sneer at him, before running out of the classroom.

Jungkook can only stand there in confusion, his heart aches slightly, but he refuses to give up.

“Jeon, come with us to eat lunch,” He looks up after a moment of silence, realises Mingyu was standing at the entrance, waiting for his reply.

“Nah I’ll pass-“

“Come on Jeon, you haven’t hung out with me for a really long time,” Mingyu wraps his arm around Jungkook’s shoulder, dragging the dejected boy out of the classroom.

Jungkook would much rather be with you right now, finding out what made you so cold all of a sudden, to reconcile whatever happened to make you mad, to cuddle and hug you, to comfort you and hear you laugh and smile again.

Instead, he’s stuck with Mingyu sitting next to him, as Mingyu’s friends shamelessly flirt with him.

He’s frankly sick and tired of having to attend to these girls who he had zero interest in.

Sure they weren’t ugly, but their personalities weren’t the prettiest either.

“So, Jungkookie,” The girl sitting opposite him coos, he frowns at the nickname, he doesn’t even remember her fucking name.

“Do you like girls with short hair or long hair?” She flicks her hair, both girls flirting with him having kind of short hair, shoulder length and a little longer.

“Long hair,” He replies with a monotonous voice, staring blankly at them.

“Oh,”

Jungkook wants to let out a laugh, but he holds himself back.

You’re laying on your bed, sulking and tearing up. You don’t even know why you’re crying over this stupid thing. You didn’t even get rejected, but you did get rejected indirectly by hearing what Jungkook had said to the unknown person.

You open up your phone, going on Instagram in hopes to distract yourself from breaking down, but the first story that you open up just has to be Mirae’s instagram, with a picture of Jungkook and Mingyu on the story.

He’s out with Mirae. He’s not looking at her camera though, both him and Mingyu busy on his phone showing each other something.

But she’s sitting opposite him, it’s practically a date.

Jungkook’s on a date with Mirae, the girl who clearly had a huge crush on him, you concluded.

Great, great fucking great.

You sigh, closing your eyes as tears escape the corners of your eyes.

The next time you wake up, your vision is slightly groggy, as you sit up and rub your eyes, stretching.

The smell of noodles waft into your nose, shit, did you leave the stove on or something?

As you walk out of the room, you halt in your steps.

You recognise the man who has his back faced towards you, cooking in your kitchen, in your apartment.

It’s Jungkook.

“___?” Jungkook calls out, tilting to try to see if you were standing in the hallway.

You quickly run back into the room, shutting the door behind you and climbing back into bed.

What was he doing here?

You should have never given him the password to your apartment.

Your heart is beating wildly in your chest. You can’t fucking hide from him anymore because he’s in your house, why must he play with your heart so much?

When the door to your room creaks open, you quickly duck below your blanket, in a pathetic attempt to make it seem as if you were sleeping.

“___, come on, I heard you in the hallway,” You hear Jungkook’s voice, slightly muffled from you hiding under the covers. You hear him set something down, the smell of noodles stronger than before.

He doesn’t let the small flowers placed on your desk go unnoticed. You kept the flowers he gave you.

Even though it’s childish, you refuse to answer him.

Jungkook pulls down the blanket to reveal your messy hair, the back of your head facing him. You attempt to pull the blanket back up but he’s too strong.

“Come on, don’t be mad at me,” Jungkook tries to convince you to come out of the blanket, but you stubbornly refuse.

He reaches out to card his fingers through your messy hair, but you move away from his touch, whining when his fingers get stuck halfway through a knot.

“Oww,” You’re whining, clutching the area as Jungkook shushes you.

“At least sit up, I’ll help you get rid of it,” He’s really trying everything to get you to talk to him, he will sit here and keep trying forever until you give in.

“No,” Your voice wobbles, eyes watering with frustration. Why was he here, you’re going to get your heart shattered into a million pieces all over again.

“Why’re you being so difficult, hmm?” Jungkook sighs, sitting back and leaving you to curl up into a ball.

“Go away,” You tried to sound angry, but with the tears slowly running down your cheeks, there’s a sob that comes uncontrollably right after.

“Hey, why are you crying?” Jungkook’s face is now full of concern, he manages to untangle you from the blankets, as you struggle against his hold.

“Shh, it’s okay, don’t push me away, my body still hurts from that day,”

Jungkook has your head buried into his chest, you want to punch him, but when he reminds you of that day, when you had gently patched him up, you don’t dare to struggle against him anymore.

You can feel his hand rubbing up and down against your back as you clutch onto his shirt. You can smell his cologne, the one the both of you had picked when you went on a school vacation.

“If you don’t wanna tell me what’s wrong right now that’s okay, just let me take care of you ‘kay?”

You weakly nod, mentally cursing at yourself for foolishly giving up fighting against him.

Jungkook pulls you out of his lap, settling you in between the pillows on your bed and pulling the blanket to cover your body as you sit, waiting for his next move.

He grabs the bowl of noodles placed on your bedside table, picking up a few strands with the chopsticks and blowing on it gently.

Jungkook brings the chopsticks near your mouth, but you keep your mouth shut, refusing to give in to him again.

“I know you didn’t eat dinner, quickly eat now or else you’d have acid reflux like the last time,” You cringe internally remembering how you were hunched over the toilet crying, as he held your hair back, shushing your sobs.

You comply in the end, opening your mouth and letting Jungkook feed you.

“Good girl,” He whispers, using his thumb to swipe away the drop of soup at the corner of your mouth.

Fuck, he’s making you go crazy. Good girl? Does he want you to go insane?

You gulp down the noodles, looking up at him as you make eye contact. Jungkook scans your face, wiping the tear threatening to fall further down your cheek.

“Don’t cry already, come on, let’s put on the show while you eat,”

He reaches for the remote on the other side of the bed, his body hovering over yours for a few seconds before he’s back next to you, eyes trained onto the TV and switching to the mentioned show.

You both watch the show as he slowly feeds you the noodles. You want to tell him it tastes amazing, that you want to kiss him for pampering you despite having treated him so coldly before. You simply just let yourself be taken care of by Jungkook, already anticipating getting your heart broken again when he leaves.

When you finish the bowl of noodles, Jungkook slots himself next to you under the covers, pulling you so that your head was now resting against his chest, both of you watching the show playing on the TV in front of your bed.

You aren’t sure if Jungkook can hear your heart going crazy in your chest but you sure can.

You shouldn’t be doing this, you shouldn’t be cuddling with your best friend who clearly doesn’t like you.

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah?” He looks down at you, pausing the show.

“Is this what friends do?”

Jungkook frowns at you, leaning back to look at you properly.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, maybe we shouldn’t be cuddling and all this, we clearly aren’t a couple or anything, and you don’t like me like that, so we shouldn’t-“

Before you can continue, Jungkook’s lips are crashing down on you.

What?

He pulls back, looking straight into your eyes,

“Jungkook, what are you doing?” Your eyes are widened, you haven’t even fully processed what just happened

“Why did you say that? Who said I didn’t like you?” He frowns at you, as if he did not just kiss you in the midst of you talking

Now you’re even more confused, “Don’t lie to me Kook, you don’t have to pretend that you like me just because I do,”

You curse under your breath for letting the last part slip out.

“I’m serious ___, why would you think I don’t?” Jungkook’s shocked, firstly at you admitting you like him back, but more importantly, the fact that you had the audacity to even believe he wasn’t crazy for you.

“I heard you talking to someone and you told them you didn’t like me,”

Jungkook sighs, grabbing your hands in his, “____, of course I wouldn’t tell Yongjae that, I barely know him,”

You slip your hands out of his,

“I think you like Mirae,” You scoff at him

“What?” He’s genuinely confused, the name not being familiar to him

You whip out your phone, showing him the instagram story, your heart clenches a little when you see the photo.

“Oh so that’s her name, why the fuck would she take a photo of me,” He grumbles, grabbing your phone from your hand and screenshotting the story and saving it into your camera roll

“___ I swear I didn’t even know her until today, Mingyu asked me to go out with him and apparently they followed along, I swear I didn’t even know her fucking name, do you know her? Why would she take a picture of me without asking? She was really weird with me you know,”

The whole time he’s rambling on and on, everything was beginning to piece together.

“___, I fucking love you so much, I only said that to Yongjae because I knew he would be a big mouth and tell everyone, and I obviously didn’t want you to find out that way, and I don’t like Mirae at all, in fact, all she did was make me fucking uncomfortable with her horrible flirting skills, I love you, please ____,” Jungkook grabs your hands again, searching your face for a reply.

“Prove it to me then, I’ll give you a chance to show me that you really do love me,” You’re trying your best to hold back from simply just confessing back to him, yet it seemed too good to be true that Jungkook, your best friend, liked you back the same

“I will,” Jungkook nods, but his heart aches internally, he truly did love you so much, it hurt him to know you were hesitating so much

“Can I kiss you?” Jungkook whispers, his face inches away from yours,

“Okay” You whisper back, leaning to lock your lips with his

Maybe everything would turn out okay

jungkook: don’t sleep too late okay? love you ❤️

Just as you closed the front door of your apartment and bid goodbye to Jungkook, of course he had sent you a text immediately.

You find yourself smiling unconsciously at the text, before quickly replying:

you: okay, see you tomorrow :)

Your phone lights up again,

jungkook: i love you

jungkook: you didn’t reply my first ‘love you’ ☹️

You laugh to yourself, replying

you: okay fine, i love you too ❤️

you: so eager to profess your love? 😏

Jungkook immediately types back, he’s standing outside your front door still, hearing your muffled laughter from behind the door.

jungkook: of course, go and sleep, i can see your light is still on

jungkook: don’t miss me too much 😏

You look through the peephole, seeing Jungkook’s tall frame leaning against your door, his hair taking up most of the view from the hole.

you: okay goodnight, stop standing outside my door and go home before it’s too late

You hear Jungkook laugh from outside, before his footsteps begin to get softer as he walks away.

“___, I saw Jungkook leave your apartment last night, what were you doing?” The familiar voice rings from behind you as your arm is being held back.

“Junghyeon, leave me alone, it’s none of your business anymore,” You shake your arm out of his grasp, walking faster towards the entrance of the school, wanting to quickly head home before anything happens

Your ex boyfriend ignores your words, continuing to grab your arm and pull you back from walking further.

You wince from how hard he had tugged your arm, struggling as you pull against his grasp.

“Let go of me,” You grit through your teeth, desperately trying to escape.

“Try and escape, you won’t, you’re too fucking weak and your pretty little boy won’t come here and save you,” He seethes, breath blowing onto your face as you scrunch your face in disgust.

“I’m not telling you shit, you don’t need to dig into my business Junghyeon,” You spit at him, but he only tightens his grip on your arm, making you whimper in pain.

“No! You tell me what the fuck you were doing with him so late at night!” He bangs the locker near you, making you flinch at the loud noise.

“What the fuck are you doing, get your hands off of her,” There’s a very angry voice that rings through the air, as Junghyeon’s grasp on your arm gets released.

It’s Jungkook.

“Fuck off, don’t fucking touch her like that,” Jungkook growls at the man, holding his fist in the air as he grabs Junghyeon’s shirt.

“Who are you to tell me that? YOU should be the one fucking off, she’s probably fucking around with other guys like the slut she is-“

BAAM.

Jungkook punches him in the face, sending Junghyeon flying to the ground, as students start to gather in the hallways, gasping and whispering amongst themselves.

You quickly take Jungkook by the arm, attempting to drag him away from Junghyeon who’s clutching his jaw, wincing in pain on the floor.

“Jungkook, leave him, it’s okay already,” You’re slowly pulling him away as students gather around Junghyeon on the floor.

Jungkook’s panting heavily, you don’t recognise the look in his eyes as he lets himself get dragged away by you, but his eyes don’t leave Junghyeon who’s muttering something as he locks eyes with Jungkook.

“Wait baby, I need to teach that fucker a lesson,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, he reaches back to your arm to gently pull it away, but with the bruise forming on your arm from earlier, you whimper when he touches the hurt area.

Jungkook whips around with concern the moment he hears you wince, flinching from his touch as you hold onto your arm,

“I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry, let me see it,” He gently takes your arm, as you let him inspect the bruise, it was turning purple already, as he frowns.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to beat him up some more, he deserves it, how dare he touch my girlfriend like that,” Jungkook rambles on as he looks back at Junghyeon, who’s getting up from the floor and walking away.

“Kook, no more punching people, you’re going to get into trouble with the discipline mistress already,” You sigh, letting him inspect your bruise closer as he rubs his thumb lightly over it, eyes widening in concern as you wince even with the slightest touch.

Jungkook complies with your words, he would do anything to prove to you he truly did love you, no matter how bad he wanted to punch Junghyeon again.

That day, you wait for Jungkook who’s currently in detention for acting out. He has tried to reason with the discipline mistress but she had given him no leeway. Instead, you decided to wait in the library until your boyfriend was done with his detention, focusing on doing your work as you wait.

On the other hand, Jungkook was making love letters throughout his detention, the discipline mistress sighing every time she checked up on him and Junghyeon who were sitting at opposite ends in the class.

“Jungkook-ah, you had the right intention for wanting to stand up for ___, but you should know violence is never the answer, no matter how much you like the person,”

He frowns at the discipline mistress’ words, “I’m sorry Ma’am, I promise I won’t punch anyone, but I don’t just like her, I love her,” He sighs, writing more words into the pink paper he had folded into hearts.

She can only sigh at the love sick Jungkook, Junghyeon glaring right at him from the other end of the class.

“Oh! You gave me a shock!” You gasp quietly as Jungkook slides into the chair next to you, you check your phone, noticing it had already been 6pm long ago, meaning Jungkook was done with his detention for quite a long time.

“Why didn’t you answer my texts?” Jungkook gestures to your phone, as you notice the notifications from him:

jungkook: im done with my detention

jungkook: i learnt my lesson i promise 🙃 which part of the library are you at?

“Oh sorry Koo, I was so focused on my work I didn’t notice,” You sweep a strand of hair covering his eyes.

“I searched high and low for you, I cleared out two whole floors of the library before I found you here,” He groans, sulking into the seat.

You laugh quietly, finding it endearing.

Jungkook was really making his way to your heart.

“Oh! I have this for you I made while waiting,” He reaches into his jacket pocket and fishes out the pink paper folded into a heart shape, placing it into your hands.

“Oh? You did this in detention?” You smile at him, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

He was being fucking cute, writing you a love letter while being in detention, you wanted to kiss him right there and then.

“Yeah, missed you and thought about you so much, now quickly open it,” He gestures for you to unfold the paper, as you comply

You read the small handwriting squished together to fit into the small piece of paper:

____, I’m writing this in detention as I was told to reflect on my actions so I thought I should write this to you to show you how much I love you ❤️ When you began to act cold towards me that day, my heart shattered into a million pieces, I wanted to just wrap you up and protect you from whoever was hurting you. I didn’t know that you had thought it was me who didn’t like you more than a friend, it hurt me to see you cry and push me away like that. I just love you so fucking much, I want you to believe my words, because you mean the world to me, no matter how we would have ended up if I had confessed to you earlier, or if you had confessed to me first, or if we never got jealous of each other, I would love you nevertheless.

You’re giggling to yourself as you finish reading the letter, folding it back and keeping it in your pocket.

“Yah! Don’t laugh at my love confession,” Jungkook pouts dramatically, whining softly as he sulks into the chair next to you

“I’m laughing because I find it cute baby, do you want your kiss or not?” You giggle as he lights up, sitting up quickly and kissing you.

You happily kiss him back, you put your arms around his neck as he deepens the kiss. Jungkook is on cloud nine.

Not before you both get interrupted by another student who’s sitting opposite you, clearing his throat.

You quickly pack up your stuff and you and Jungkook head out of the library, not wanting to get caught again.

The next day, you’re in the canteen sitting with your friends, as you make eye contact with Jungkook, who now proudly proclaims as your boyfriend. He sends you a quick smile before turning back to Mingyu who’s talking.

You look down as your phone lits up,

boyfriend ❤️: like my new contact name?

You gasp, whipping your head up at Jungkook who’s smiling at you mischeviously, you quickly reply back:

you: yah! when did you do that!!!!

you: its cute though, miss you already

You shut off your phone before your friends catch you.

The phone next to you lits up again,

boyfriend ❤️: come here and kiss me then

You roll your eyes at him, going back to your conversation with your friends.

The next thing you know, Yeji stops talking as she nods behind you, telling you to turn around.

“Hi baby,” Jungkook’s smiling down at you as he leans down to peck your lips.

The whole table gasps, making the rest of the canteen turn their heads to see what was going on

“Kook!” You slap his chest, burying your face into your hands in embarrassment.

“He was looking, had to show him who’s the boss,” Jungkook whispers into your ear as he smirks at you, you tsk at his expression

He laughs at you, ruffling your hair before running back to his table.

“Oh my gosh, why didn’t you tell me?” Yeji shakes your hand in hers, your friends obviously taken aback by the current situation.

“It happened recently, I swear I was going to tell you,” You groan, trying to keep their reactions down so that people will stop staring your way.

“Baby, you want this?” Jungkook gestures towards the huge stuffed toy puppy hanging from the booth

“Are you sure you can get that? It’s pretty hard y’know,” You laugh, nudging your boyfriend playfully in the chest.

“Hey! I’m an expert at carnival games okay? Let me show you,” He passes the booth owner money, receiving three balls to throw into the moving buckets.

You watch as Jungkook perfectly gets all three balls into the buckets, as you jump excitedly next to him,

“OHMYGOSH!!!!” You’re squealing as you shake your boyfriend, who’s amused by your reaction, letting himself get shaken by you.

“Told you I could do it,” Jungkook proudly hands you the giant stuffed puppy, as you kiss him on the cheek as a thank you gesture.

“Urgh, maybe I shouldn’t have won that,” Jungkook groans, sulking into the sofa in your bedroom

“Why? It’s so cute and soft, it looks like you baby,” You giggle, hugging the huge stuffed toy tighter

“Firstly, that puppy doesn’t look like me, secondly, it’s quite literally stealing you away from me,” You watch as he whines, sinking further into the sofa.

“Okay, okay fine, now I’ll pay attention to my sulky puppy,” You tease him, walking over to the sofa and cupping his face into your hands.

Jungkook stares up at you, he’s admiring your pretty face, he could stare at you all day.

“Paw,”

“Huh?”

“Give me paw, puppy,” You giggle as you have your hand out expectantly, waiting for him to obey your command.

“Yah! What has the soft toy done to you!” He tackles you, tickling your sides as you burst out into laughter, pleading with him to stop.

Jungkook pays no heed to your pleas, he continues to manhandle you so that you’re now laying on the sofa, and he’s caging you above, preventing you from escaping his attacks.

It takes him a lot of pleading from you to stop, by the time he does stop the both of you are laughing, Jungkook plopping on top of you as you bask in happiness.

You’d love him nevertheless.

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risuola · 8 months

Text

PROMISE pt. 2 — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

Satoru promised he will never leave you.

cw: fluff, manga spoilers (more like the fight between two characters from chapters 223-235 is mentioned, no details whatsoever), FIX IT FIC because we need one, reader is pregnant – labor is briefed through — 1,5k words

a/n: one of TWO endings to PROMISE – this one is fluffy, it’s a fix-it fic if you will, it’s happy and pretty. If you’re feeling angsty, if you want to rub some salt into the wounds, check THIS ANGSTY alternate ending out!

He made a promise, so he had to keep it.

It all felt abstract. Was Satoru really able to win? You knew he’s strong, hell, he’s the strongest, but still, can he beat Sukuna? Your breath hitched, you began feeling dizzy, and your stomach really began to hurt. Just few moments ago you felt like your little princess was sleeping, but as the time progressed, you began feeling pain. Your stress had to get to her finally and with all of your might you tried to calm yourself down even if only a little to not put your little one under the pressure of your nerves.

“Y/n?” Shoko squeezed your shoulder, “come with me, you really should breathe some air.”

“Huh?” You couldn’t even look at her, you were afraid that the second you take your eyes from the screens, something bad will happen. But you knew the worry in Ieiri’s voice, she spoke like this only when she faced something serious. “N-no, I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Come.”

You didn’t know why she insisted, but you moved with great hesitance. And then it got to you.

In a matter of minutes, you were in another room, alone with Ieiri, as she was ordering people to gather everything needed because the moment you got in here, your waters broke. Yuji had to run for towels and clean clothes (which he did in a matter of few minutes) and Choso brought gloves and bottled water, because he insisted to help his brother. It’s not the best time, you thought. Your daughter still had a month to go, it wasn’t her time yet, but there wasn’t much you could do. It all happened too quickly, but maybe it was happening for a little while now and simply you were too focused on watching the fight, your mind too absent from what your own body signalized, because when Shoko checked, you were already fully dilated.

You imagined that day differently. Certain that it will be Ieiri who will deliver your baby, but you hoped for Satoru to be here, to keep your hand in his protective grip and you hoped for Megumi to meet his little step-sister. You thought it’ll look differently, that it won’t be a random, quite dingy room god knows where, you hoped it won’t be in the middle of a war. All of this didn’t matter, when you pushed for the first time. The adrenaline rushed through your bloodstream, your ear turned deaf to everything Shoko was saying, you just followed what your own body told you, pushing through the pain breathlessly for what felt like eternity.

And then, all of it was over. You barely registered when you cleaned up, dressed and Shoko used her abilities to heal your body enough for you to fight if needed. You walked back to take your place in front of the many screens, holding a newborn to your chest and with relief you noticed, Satoru was still standing.

“You alright?” Yuta asked, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze as he stood behind you.

“Yes. How’s he?” you replied, trying to analyze the battlefield. Satoru was still there, Sukuna was also looking good, all things considered. You should probably focus more on what just happened to you, but how could you, when your entire world was standing on the battlefield?

“Don’t worry about him so much, y/n. It’s Satoru Gojo we’re talking about. Better tell me how is she?”

She. Your daughter, the little bundle of love, now all in your hands. As you smoothed over the little cheek of your sleeping princess, you couldn’t help but wonder, if her coming to this world made even a fraction of a change that your husband’s birth made. She sure altered the balance of your world.

What you didn’t know, her appearance reached Satoru’s senses all the way back on the battlefield, and he grinned at the feeling. It’s like a wave of something unknown but at the same time very familiar hit him in the face and it gave him a kick of strength he never knew he needed. Now, he couldn’t lose. Not that he was planning to, but now, he just couldn’t.

“Oi, Megumi,” he called, looking at Sukuna that for the last couple of seconds stood there frozen, unable to move because the new, unknown feeling reached him as well. “You can feel her, right? Time to wake up Megs.”

“So naïve,” the curse chuckled, snapping out from the initial shock, “you still believe he’s gonna come back because of some brat being born? Oh, no, and let me tell you, once I’m done with you, I’ll make sure she’ll also be dea-“

The taunting tone was cut short when Ryomen tensed. Disoriented, he looked down at his hands, struggling to clench them into fists as they became stiff, fingers barely moving under the pressure of his muscles, as if he lost control over his own body. He groaned, pushing through with the movement, but stopped again, unable to make another step. Black markings glitched over his face and Gojo grinned wide.

“Good job, Megumi,” he praised. “Welcome back, kid.”

And then a rasped-out scream ripped through Sukuna’s throat, the one that’s desperate and annoyed, helpless once again as the vessel he had settled in began fighting him. So much work he had put into preparing Megumi’s soul to sink deep down into darkness, killing his sister, doing the ancient bath ritual, and now all of his efforts came into nothing, because what?

“G-gojo-“ a voice, much more familiar slipped over the tongue in Sukuna’s mouth. “Tsumiki, she’s dead, I-“

“It wasn’t you, Megumi,” Satoru cooed. “Suppress him, you can do it.”

“I can’t let him hurt my sister once again,” Fushiguro struggled, but the marks became more and more faded, and Sukuna’s cursed energy less and less apparent.

“Oh no, you definitely can’t.”

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You couldn’t hear anything, Mei’s crows provided only with vision, but even without voices, you could tell something odd was happening. Megumi was fighting back, Satoru’s shoulders relaxed just slightly, but his features betrayed the relief he felt, the happiness interlaced through his features, clearly pictured by his wide smile.

And then, just like that, maybe few minutes passed, when he was right in front of you, kneeling before you. You could feel the touch of his hands over your legs, his warmth crawling over your skin.

“Hello there,” he said casually, his tone soft and plush as if he wasn’t just battling the king of curses for god knows how long.

“Satoru,” his name slipped through your parted mouth. You couldn’t believe he was there, and as you looked up and to the side, Megumi was there too, with no signs of black cursed markings adorning his light skin and his hair pushed down, just as he would usually style it, probably being a result of Gojo’s hand messing with it. He smiled softly, keeping his distance, but you could tell his soul was in the right place. Sukuna that now was trapped inside of him would be another day’s problem, you figured.

“Welcome back, love,” your husband brought your attention back to him. “And hello, little princess,” he then pushed his face upon the baby in your arms, examining the tiny miracle that you held close to your heart. He looked into the blue irises of his daughter, smiling at the familiar color that surrounded by light eyelashes created a picture of mini him, but somehow, even better, because he could already see this cute nose of yours, the soft, feminine features that she inherited from you. “So I was right, she does have the same cute nose as you.”

“Oh, Satoru,” you sobbed quietly, brushing your hand through his white strands of hair, now sticky from all the blood that got into it. “Is that really over?”

“For now, it is. Our boy is back, I’ll figure out how to tame Sukuna inside of him later.”

“Come here,” you reached a hand to Megumi, but he hesitated, afraid that he’ll lost control and hurt you or his little sister. Eventually, he gave up underneath your demanding gaze and you took him into you, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Two strong arms of your husband then enveloped the three of you in the loving embrace and you couldn’t help but smile, finding his dried-out lips and pressing a kiss to them.

“I’m so glad you won,” you whispered to him, resting your forehead against his. “I’m so glad I have both of you back.”

Satoru just chuckled and Megumi smiled softly. Little that you know, it’s only because of the wave of new, fresh energy that bore so much of Satoru’s unique signature that spread all over the world the moment she was out of your womb. It’s her that gave your husband another impulse to act and it’s her who saved your foster son from losing himself completely.

Satoru promised he will never leave you. He promised that to your daughter and she herself made sure, he’ll keep that promise.

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sagesolsticewrites · 3 months

Text

Kiss It Better (pt 2) 💋

That lipstick mark leads to a surprising turn of events 👀

a/n: Y’all didn’t think I was gonna leave it like that, did you? Ask and you shall receive: Kiss It Better pt 2! (Also! I’m having sooo much fun with these MOTA requests 🥹 feel free to send more in, or request other characters y’all think I should write for!)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Read pt 1 here!

Masterlist

You stopped into sickbay early the next morning, to catch up on paperwork.

The fact that you’d be able to see Buck was just a bonus; at least, that’s what you told yourself.

But when you stepped inside, there was already someone sitting at Buck’s bedside.

“Bucky,” you sighed with relief once your surprise had faded, “Should’ve known you’d stop by sooner or later.”

“He’s gonna be okay, right?” Bucky asked, and you could just make out worry lining his face as you approached.

“He’ll be fine,” you assured him, “The scrapes will heal up in no time, and after a week or so of rest he should be cleared to fly again.”

“Good,” Bucky nodded, shoulders visibly relaxing, “That’s good. Now, uh…”

A smirk appeared on his face. “Wanna tell me what this is all about?”

He tapped his forehead, and after a moment of confusion glancing between him and Buck, your eyes finally landed on the bright red outline of your lips somehow still visible on Gale’s forehead.

You felt heat flood your face, and you were suddenly hyperaware of the same red lipstick that you had painstakingly applied only an hour earlier.

“Oh. Oh! That. Well, um…” You tried to look anywhere but at Bucky and his sleeping friend as you explained, “Buck was a little out of it when he was brought in yesterday, and when I was explaining the protocol for his head wound he asked me to, uh… kiss it better.”

You silently prayed for the ground to open up and swallow you as Bucky just barely held back a snicker.

Noticing how uncomfortable you were, however, he quickly said, “No, sweetheart, it’s not you, it’s just…”

Bucky shook his head, seemingly in exasperation, “Of course it took a head wound to get this guy to ask you for a kiss.”

Your mind seemed to have trouble processing this, and for a moment all you heard was ask you for a kiss before you were able to reply with a confused, “I’m sorry, I— what?”

Bucky let out a soft laugh.

“I was really hopin’ I could get him to tell you himself, but at this rate we’ll be well into old age before that happens, so…” He took a deep breath.

Sensing that you should probably be sitting down for whatever he was about to say, you perched on the edge of Buck’s cot, trying very hard not to think about the mere inches between the two of you.

“I don’t know how you haven’t seen it, but Buck’s been head over heels for you since the first day he saw you, sweetheart.”

“I— But he’s never—”

“He was always goin’ on about being worried what telling you might do to your friendship,” Bucky explained with a shrug, “That’s just how he is. Tends to keep things bottled up inside. But seein’ you two just dance around each other for the past three months has been absolute torture, so this is me puttin’ an end to my misery once and for all.”

Bucky stood, giving you a friendly pat on your knee, “Tell him how you feel, sweetheart. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

He left with a wink, a smile, and a quip about not getting too handsy — “This is a hospital! People are trying to heal!” — that left you blushing.

And just like that, you were left alone with a sleeping Gale Cleven.

Unsure what to do, you simply stared at him for a moment, taking him in. He was so… unguarded in his sleep, despite the scrapes and bruises, and your heart went soft at the lack of worry lines that seemed to be ever-present when he was awake. You resisted the urge to run your fingers through his dirty blond hair, still mussed from the battle and from sleep, instead choosing to run your fingertips over the slightly faded lipstick mark on his temple.

You just barely managed to stifle a gasp when he stirred, but it was too late.

“Y/N?” Your name slipped drowsily from his lips, and a small thrill ran through you at the sound— until he seemed to wake more and corrected himself hurriedly. “I mean, Nurse L/N, um. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Major,” you replied, once again falling back into the safety of professionalism.

There was a bit of an awkward silence, neither of you wanting to disrupt the rare quiet of an early morning on base.

Buck eventually cleared his throat, looking determinedly at his blanket and nowhere else as he spoke.

“Yesterday… After the battle’s a bit of a blur, but unless I’m misremembering I might’ve asked you to, uh…”

His hand drifted almost automatically up to his forehead, and you couldn’t help a small laugh as you tracked the movement.

“Kiss it better?” You asked teasingly, hoping to get ahead of the inevitable embarrassment, “You did.”

You couldn’t help your eyes flicking to the imprint of your lips on his forehead, and Buck, observant pilot that he was, noted it instantly.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

And here you were once again wishing the ground would open up and swallow you as you wordlessly handed Buck a small mirror from your pocket.

“Oh, you actually…” His face turned beet-red, and he scrambled to apologize; “I’m sorry, you didn’t have to— you know I would never—”

“Hey,” you lowered the mirror, gently removing it from his grasp so his focus was on you, “I know. You were a little out of it, it’s alright. And you never know, it might’ve helped.” You couldn’t help but add with a teasing grin before asking with genuine concern, “How are you feeling now?”

He seemed to take stock of his condition internally before answering “A bit better, all things considered. I’ve got a friend who’s one of the best nurses on base, y’know.”

“Please, Major, I’m just doing my job,” you replied, avoiding his gaze as you waved away the compliment.

“No, really. I honestly—” He seemed to steel himself for something, his expression as he took a deep breath not unlike when they were called for a mission — pure determination.

“It got… pretty bad up there yesterday. And at first I was thinkin’… as long as we get the mission done, and the other boys get home safe, I don’t particularly care what happens to me. And then…” His fingertips edged towards yours, just as they had yesterday, “I got to thinking about you. About wanting to make it back to you, to tell you I—”

His voice faltered as his soft blue gaze met your own, and there was a beat of silence. Your own eyes were welling up with tears, but you blinked them back as best you could.

“Buck…”

You couldn’t quite form the words, so you decided to show him that you knew exactly what he was trying to say.

Taking his face in your hands, mindful of his head wound, you pressed your lips to his as gently as you could.

He froze, and for a moment you thought you’d made a horrible mistake. Was Bucky wrong? Was this his idea of a joke?

But then Gale was sitting up, leaning into you, pressing his lips to yours with a fierce tenderness. One scarred, callused hand came up to cup your cheek while the other — Gale Cleven, ever the gentleman — rested just above your waist, pulling you closer.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there in that small bubble of bliss. It felt like an eternity that ended all too soon as the two of you parted for air.

“I never thought—” Buck let out a soft laugh, almost in disbelief, his nose brushing against yours, “I mean, I loved being your friend, but…”

“This is probably a good time to tell you that I’ve been absolutely head over heels for you since the moment we met,” you said, fighting back a blush.

“Finally!” A familiar voice came from the entrance to the hospital, “Only took you three months, but I’m happy for you two—”

You buried your face in Buck’s neck as he tossed a pillow at Bucky.

“Get outta here, Bucky, I’m trying to have a moment with my girl!” He called good-naturedly.

“I want all the details later!” He called back as he retreated to the safety of the hallway, “Congrats, sweetheart!”

You assumed that last part was aimed at you, but you were preoccupied with a different pair of words.

“Your girl, huh?” You said, meeting Gale’s gaze with a shy smile.

“Yeah,” he grins down at you, the scars doing nothing to diminish the joy on his face, “That is, uh… if you want.”

You briefly pressed your lips to his once again, the smile on your face all the answer he needed.

Pulling back to take in his smiling face, an idea came to you.

You leaned up to press a kiss right where the stain of your lipstick was still visible on his forehead.

Then again to the scar just between his eyebrows.

And again to the bruise just below his right eye.

You scattered kisses across all the scrapes, scratches, and bruises on his face. Buck spoke up as you pressed kisses to a series of shallow scrapes along his jaw.

“Not that I don’t, uh…” he began in a slightly strangled voice, “really like this, doll, but what are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” You said, pulling away to meet his gaze for a moment before you pressed your lips to a scratch on the bridge of his nose, “I’m kissing it better.”

Buck let out the loudest, fondest laugh you’d ever heard from him, and your heart felt like it filled with pure sunshine at the sound.

“I knew there was a reason you were my favorite nurse,” he grinned, pulling you in for yet another tender kiss.

Buck our beloved 🥰 This was so much fun to write, I hope y’all enjoyed! 😊 Tagging a couple friends just for fun 🤍: @sassy-ahsoka-tano @mpmarypoppins @austinbutlermischief @austin-butlers-gf @dontbesussis

#austin butler x reader #austin butler #austin butler major gale buck cleven #major gale cleven #gale buck cleven #masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #buck cleven x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #my writing

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

Hi I love your poly marauders fics so much!! Is it possible for you to write one where the reader has to go to the doctors but she absolutely hates the doctor and needles. Totally fine if not 💗

Thanks lovely!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus has strong-armed you into looking at your ankle again. Almost literally strong-armed you, with James as his lackey, your curly headed boyfriend keeping an arm wrapped around your shoulders that’s as affectionate as it is binding. Remus gnaws on his lip as he prods at your swollen leg, making quiet sounds of discontent at whatever he feels.

He looks up at you, brows knit together. “The swelling hasn’t gone down at all, dove.”

“It will soon,” you say faithfully. “It’s only been a couple of days.”

“You should at least be able to walk on it by now.”

“I can,” you reply. “It doesn’t feel great, but I can walk on it.”

He gives you a deadpan look, and you can feel James’ silent chuckling against your side. “That’s not what I mean,” Remus says. “I’m sorry love, but you need to get this checked out.”

You open your mouth, but Remus reads the argument in your face before it passes your lips.

“By a professional,” he clarifies.

You huff, crossing your arms in front of you. “What’re they gonna tell me that I don’t already know? Rest, elevate, etcetera, etcetera.” You roll your eyes. James begins to sweep his thumb back and forth on your shoulder, trying to pacify you. “There’s no point in going into some cold office for that.”

“Unless it’s more serious than we think,” Remus counters. His eyes are worried, but his mouth is set in a firm line. “If you’d only twisted it, it wouldn't have swelled up this badly. And even if it isn’t that bad,” he goes on, bulldozing over the protest that comes to your tongue, “at least they’ll be able to give you a real compress. These bandages get too loose, which probably isn’t helping with the healing.”

“It’ll heal if I give it time,” you say stubbornly, pulling your leg from his grip and starting to rewrap it yourself. “Stop worrying so much.”

“Dove.” It’s his no-nonsense voice. “Our deal was that if it wasn’t getting better after three days, you’d go get it looked at.” He ducks to make you meet his eyes, softening when he finds them. “It’s time, sweetheart.”

You’ve just finished rebandaging your ankle and are deliberating between arguing more or just sitting in silent opposition when you hear the rattle of Sirius’ keys. Remus rolls his eyes (out of habit at this point, you think) when he kicks in the door.

“You’d think I was eighty, hungry at five thirty in the after…whoa.” Sirius trails off as he senses the sober mood in your home, and his eyebrows pinch when his gaze lands on you. “What’s got you so riled up, lovebug?”

James hugs you tighter to his side, impervious to your sulking as he rubs your upper arm roughly. “She’s gotta go to the doctor,” he says.

“Aw.” Sirius pouts, coming the rest of the way towards you to drop a kiss on your head. “Ankle’s not doing so well?”

“If anything, it’s getting worse,” Remus sighs.

“Is not,” you snipe back.

“It’s not going to be as bad as you think, baby.” Sirius squats in front of you, taking your hand in his. “Let’s just go now, yeah? Get it over with.”

Even Remus looks surprised at that. “Alright,” he says after a second, “yeah, that’s a good idea.” He stands, and so does Sirius, pulling your hand upwards with him like you’ve any likelihood of following it.

You look at James for help. Even he seems resolved, but his eyes reveal more sympathy for your plight than the others’. “I know you’re nervous,” he says softly, hand brushing your cheek to slot a strand of hair behind your ear, “but do you really think we’re gonna let anything bad happen to you?”

You sigh, and when James stands you let him take you with him, his arm around your waist to support some of your weight as you limp out to the car. Sirius forgoes his usual place in the passenger seat to sit with you and James in the back, the both of them providing silent support by way of half-hugs (James) and a steadying hand on your leg (Sirius). It’s very difficult to be cross with people who are showering you in affection, but you manage. You sit sandwiched between them with an immovable frown on your face, spiraling deeper and deeper into your thoughts until suddenly you look up and the car has stopped.

Remus has turned around to face you from the driver’s seat. “C’mon, dove,” he says, and you notice that you’re the only one with your seatbelt still on. You take a breath, finding that your throat has become clogged with tears you didn’t feel coming on. You bite down on your lower lip, hard.

“Angel,” James sighs, and your guilt for putting them through this almost rivals your anger at them for putting you through this. He unbuckles your seatbelt himself, hauling you up against his side. Your face is hot with shame and unshed tears. “It’s a thousand times worse in your head than it’s actually gonna be, my love.”

Remus looks genuinely apologetic as he reaches over from the front seat, rubbing your knee. “I hate that you’re having to do something that makes you so anxious, sweetheart, but you’re in pain. We can’t make it better all by ourselves.” You meet his eyes, and he pushes his advantage, giving your knee a little squeeze. “Let’s just go inside, I’m sure it won’t take long. Okay, darling?”

“Okay,” you assent, following Sirius out of the car and allowing him to tug your arm over his shoulders, helping you hop towards the door. “Sorry I’m making this so difficult.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Sirius insists, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. James and Remus are both quick to agree. They’re laying on the affection rather thick, and any other time you’d be irritated by the delicate flower treatment, but right now you appreciate it. “We all have things that freak us out a bit,” Sirius goes on. “Remember when James saw that baby snake behind our place?”

“Ugh.” James shudders. “We agreed not to talk about that. I still think we should move.”

Sirius grins at his boyfriend’s misery, lightly bumping your hip with his. “There you have it, lovely. We’ve all got our things. So don’t worry about this, yeah? We’ll stay with you, and afterward we can hunt down Remus’ comfort chocolate.”

Remus huffs but doesn’t protest. Later, he’ll bring the chocolate out of hiding to give it to you himself.

780 notes · View notes

yeonzzzn · 7 months

Text

✨capturing magic: park sunghoon

a vampires bleeding series: four / seven

pairing: sunghoon x afab!reader word count: 5.3k

synopsis: your witchy presence causes an uproar with sunghoon, him not enjoying the idea of you being anywhere near him. as you struggle to regain your strength and magic, the banter between you and sunghoon continue grow along with the pull of fate.

genre: strangers/enemies to lovers, vampire!sunghoon, photographer!sunghoon, witch!reader, angst, some fluff.

warnings: mentions of blood and death, swearing, y/n has long black hair and facial piercings, stubbornly cute sunghoon ♡

“YOU BROUGHT BACK A WITCH?!” Sunghoon snapped, his jaw clenching tightly.

“Yes!!” the dhampir snapped back, “We couldn’t leave her there to die!!”

Sunghoon was filled with anger, blood boiling.

“Let's all calm down…” Heeseung spoke up, placing a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder.

Sunghoon slapped his hand away, “Hyung, that dhampir bringing this witch here will put us all in danger!!”

“This witch is one of my best friends!” She yelled, “I wasn’t going to leave her, end of story!”

Sunghoon scoffed, “Yeah, and if we all die it’ll be the damn dhampir’s fault.”

“Hey!” Jake yelled, getting in his best friend's face, “That damn dhampir is my mate, watch your words. She’s in our pack now.”

The room fell silent. Sunghoon figured he would have connected with the dhampir, the tension between the two was too obvious.

“And for the record,” Jake said, taking a step back away from Sunghoon, “I’m the one who said to bring the witch here. We need information once she wakes up.”

Sunghoon looks away from his friend, looking at the witch lying unconscious on the couch.

He knew Jake was right. In order to stop Dorian, they needed any information possible.

Sunghoon releases a breath, “Fine, do what you want with the witch.”

And with that, Sunghoon stormed off.

—

“Easy does it,” Heeseung grabbed your hands, helping you sit up.

It’s been exactly a week since Dorian burned down your village and killed your coven. You were the only surviving member.

Your heart ached for those you’ve lost, but you knew their souls were somewhere free from the cruelness of this world.

Most of your burns have healed from your recovery spell, but you still ached with each movement, making it harder for you to move. On top of that, your right leg was broken. And no recovery spell could make that heal any faster.

The vampires have shown you kindness for the most part. One in particular doesn’t care for you much.

Once you were completely sat up, you thanked Heeseung.

Jay knelt down beside you, looking at the bandages that covered your arms, slowly lifting them up to look at your skin.

“We can probably remove the bandages,” He said, lifting more of the bandage up to get a better look at your skin, “The only thing is, there’s a lot of scarring.”

You nodded, “Recovery spells can only go so far.”

Jay removed the bandages, relieving the scars. You didn’t realize how bad they actually were until you looked directly at them.

Flashbacks to the fire came back, shaking you to the core. You dropped your head into your hands, begging for the thoughts to go away.

“Y/N,” your best friend drops beside you, her hands set gently on your shoulders, “what’s wrong?”

Her voice alone was enough to snap you out of it, you quickly looked up at her, giving a nod, “I am fine, the scars just…”

She sighs, “It brought back the memories?”

You nodded again.

A scoff happened from across the room. You immediately glared in its direction.

Sunghoon leaned against the wall, arms crossed against his chest, his black hair falling against his eyes.

“Got something to say, bloodsucker?” you hissed.

Sunghoon raised a brow, “You gonna put a hex on me or something, witch?”

You gripped the blanket that covered your legs, “I just might!”

He chuckled, pushing himself off the wall. He smiled just enough to show his sharpened fangs and cracked his knuckles.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Jungwon snapped, looking between the two of you, “This situation isn’t ideal, but we all have one goal in common, so please for the love of everything put your differences to the side and shut the fuck up.”

Sunghoon sighed, retracting his fangs.

“Good boy, listen to your leader.” you gave him a wink.

“Y/N,” Jungwon warned.

You sighed and relaxed your body. You were powerless in your current situation.

A pack of vampires and two humans were your only source of protection at the current moment. Your coven was destroyed. This is all you have right now.

Sunghoon scoffed, then stormed out the door into the night.

“Do you think you can make it up the stairs to bathe and sleep in a bed finally?” your dhampir friend asks, giving you a soft smile.

You removed the blanket, and more burn scars trailed down your left leg, while the other was covered in a cast from your knee down.

You pulled your shorts down, trying to hide the scars.

“Hey,” Jay’s mate kneels beside your friend, her soft hands taking yours, “These scars are proof that you survived, don’t try to hide them.”

You wanted to protest, to shout that she doesn’t understand what it meant to survive after what you went through.

But then you noticed the scars on her neck. It didn’t take long for you to recognize that those scars were caused by Dorian. That __ survived almost being killed by him.

You forced a smile, “These scars don’t just show that I survived, they show what I also lost.”

“Then you’ll carry them with you forever,” she gives you a soft smile, “It’ll be a reminder of what Dorian has done, and what will be done to get back at him.”

She was right. You gave her a smile back with a nod.

Jay pulled his mate up and to his chest, wrapping her in his arms, “__ always knows what to say.”

Their bond pulled at each of them. Jungwon pulls __ to him and Jake pulls your friend to himself. Sunoo, Niki, and Heeseung had smiles watching their pack.

You too had a smile. You could feel the bond they shared. Their vibes and how their energies matched.

You looked at your friend and Jake. The way he held her so tightly and her head in the crease of his neck.

Your heart danced for them. You knew how much losing her first mate did a number on her. But you truly believe Jake was meant to be hers completely. She just had to go through some bullshit shit first.

Eventually, you had enough of the love birds, positioning yourself to stand up.

Your recovery spell healed your broken leg enough that you were able to stand up straight and still walk…but just barely.

Your half-blooded friend noticed your struggles, releasing herself from Jake to help you up the stairs and into the bathroom.

The reflection you saw in the mirror haunted you, a burn scar covering your left eye and up the side of your forehead. The recovery magic healed it enough that it was a light pink.

A sigh escaped your lips, as you turned and faced away from the mirror.

You cleaned yourself up, washing away the couch bum life you had for the last week.

You were so glad to finally be able to sleep in a bed. Archer was nice enough to run to the nearest supermarket to buy you extra clothes, bed sheets, and other witchy essentials to have here.

Your new room was filled with plants and crystals and a few books that Jake was able to salvage from the fire.

You tried to stay awake to read, but your eyes failed you. After not sleeping in a bed for over a week, it was way too comfortable.

—

You stood in front of the mirror, pulling your long black hair behind you and into a braid. Your bangs pull out perfectly down the sides of your face.

Your half-blooded friend brought you some jewelry to wear, which you were ecstatic about.

Witches can’t go without jewelry, right?

You pull some rings onto your fingers, then dangle earrings into your ears.

A perfectly black hooped nose ring suited your nose and a lace choker around your neck and a short silver bar on your eyebrow.

You pulled a white cropped tank top over you and a black baggy pair of cargo pants and black boot, and black cast boot on your right leg to match.

A beautiful light brown cardigan made the outfit even more perfect.

You did a three-sixty in the mirror, finally feeling and looking like yourself.

You stared at the scar on your eye. You traced your fingers over it, feeling the rough skin.

Dropping your hand back at your side, you turn and walk away from the mirror.

The kitchen was lively, and laughter from your new friends echoed up the stairs as you made your way down.

Jay stood at the counter flipping pancakes and bacon, a bag of blood attached to his lips.

The two humans stood behind Jay, begging him to hurry with breakfast and Jay tried his best to shoo them off.

Jake sat with __ on the couch. She ate a bowl of cereal while Jake drank his own bag of blood.

Sunoo, Jungwon, and Heeseung sat at the kitchen table with a map in front of them discussing the layout of the area.

Niki also sat at the table, backpack in his lap, and sipping on a bag of blood as if it were a juice box.

You giggled and walked over to the table, “You really are stuck in a seventeen-year-old body arentcha?”

Niki rolled his eyes, “Unfortunately.”

Heeseung checked his watch, “Off to school.”

Niki groaned, throwing his head back against the wall, “This fucking sucks.”

You softly smiled at the younger, “I’ll walk you out.”

Niki stood up, throwing the backpack on.

You went to the fridge, grabbing an apple and a bottle of water. The piles of blood bags filled the bottom shelf.

Seeing the bags reminded you that one bloodsucker in particular was missing.

“Where’s the idiot bloodsucker at?” you asked anyone who would give you an answer.

Jake perked up, “That idiot bloodsucker has a name,” you shrugged your shoulders, and Jake sighed, “He’s outside doing his photography.”

Your dhampir friend smiles at you, “Worried about him, Y/N?”

You narrowed your eyes, “He annoys me.”

She smirked at you, “You look pretty.”

You toss your braid over your shoulder, “Of course I do, part of being a witch is also being charming.”

The vampires groan, which you expected. They might be being nice to you for the moment, but witches and vampires still don’t get along.

You grabbed a blood bag along with your other items and closed the fridge.

You patted Niki’s back, “Come on baby bro, let’s get you off to school.”

—

Sunghoon sat up in a tree, camera in hand, and snapping photos of the open land.

The morning sunrise hit the land perfectly. He changed a few filter and lens settings, finding the perfect combination.

His mood changed once he heard the door to the house open, sensing Niki and you stepping out of the house.

Sunghoon turned around, watching as you waved Niki off, him going into a full sprint and gone within seconds.

You took a bite out of the apple in your hands, looking around until you made eye contact with him.

Sunghoon glared before turning his attention back to his camera.

“You lack a lot of manners bloodsucker, ya know that?”

Sunghoon scoffed, looking down at you who was now underneath him.

“Why do you care about my manners, hmm?”

“Haven’t you heard? We have a common goal, gotta act like friends, don’t want Jungwon to snap our necks, right?” You loved teasing him. You loved how irritated you made him and how you knew exactly what to say to get under his skin.

Deep down you really wanted to get along with all the vampires, Sunghoon was just the only one not budging.

Sunghoon ignored you, his jaw clenched as he held the camera back up.

You whistle at him, his eyebrow rising.

Sunghoon was fixing to snap, “I know for a fact you didn’t just whistle at me like I am a dog.”

“Look at me then.” You said.

Sunghoon looked back at you, a warm smile on your face.

You tossed the blood bag up to him, Sunghoon catching it.

“You haven’t eaten yet, right?”

All Sunghoon could do was stare at the bag, his tough exterior relaxing.

“Thank you,” was all he could say.

You smiled even brighter, taking another bite out of your apple.

Sunghoon drank the blood as you finished off your apple and drank your water.

“Can I see your work?” You asked, finally breaking the silence.

Sunghoon glared at you again, “Why do you care?”

You sigh, “Because believe it or not, we are kinda stuck with each other, soooo.”

Sunghoon rolled his head, running a hand through his hair.

He knew you were right.

“You won’t put a hex on me if I come down, will ya hex girl?”

You glared at him, “No you idiot!”

Sunghoon smirked, “Sassy much, hex girl?”

“Continue pushing my buttons and you’ll see, bloodsucker.”

This small banter admittedly made Sunghoon happy. You were the first person to get under his skin and make it crawl, but returned every ounce of energy he gave out.

Sunghoon flung himself down from the tree, waving you over.

One by one, Sunghoon showed you all the photos he took this morning.

“These are really beautiful, bloodsucker,” you said, patting his shoulder, “But it’s missing something.”

Sunghoon once again glared at you, “Missing what, exactly?”

You smile, pointing at yourself, “A model!”

Sunghoon furrowed his brows at you, “I don’t need you in my photos hex girl, might put a curse on them.”

You rolled your eyes, “Come on, just snap a few pictures.”

Sunghoon wanted to protest, why should he take photos of his enemy?

But with the way you looked right now, Sunghoon knew with the sunrise and open fields, you would be a perfect fit.

He nodded, “Fine.”

You smiled, skipping away from him.

Sunghoon lifted his camera, snapping a few photos of you skipping.

You stopped and quickly turned around, the biggest smile on your face. Sunghoon snapped that as a photo, his stomach doing flips.

The way your lips curled as you smiled. How the sun brought out the color of your eyes. The way your hair fell and blew in the wind.

Sunghoon stared at the photo. You were so beautiful.

��Hey!” You snapped Sunghoon out of his trance, “Are you going to stare at the camera or tell me how to be a good model?”

Sunghoon smiled, “Just…be you.”

You thought about it, deciding to make a joke, “What if I do Wanda Maximoff poses? Like Scarlet Witch Style?”

Sunghoon blinked at you, “Can you actually do magic like that?”

You glared at him, “No! I’m a witch, not a superhuman.”

Sunghoon glared back, “Well, I didn’t know what all you witches can do!”

“Just think of us witches as hippies, just that we don’t smoke a shit ton of weed.”

Sunghoon chuckled, his hand clenching his shirt from his laughter.

“What is so funny?” You tried to not laugh as well, but his laugh was contagious.

“Just the way you explained witches,” Sunghoon took a deep breath, “I’ve only ever been in contact with witches who use darker magic, you’re the first who doesn’t.”

You studied him and his smile, his natural fangs being present with his smile.

You haven’t seen him smile at all since you met a week ago.

You walked towards him, stopping directly in front of him.

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes down at you, “What are you doing? Get away from me.”

You sighed, “There’s that tough exterior.”

You placed your hand on his cheek, he pulled away, but reached back for him, connecting your palm to his skin.

Sunghoon’s heart was racing at your touch, his jaw locking together.

You breathed in, “You have such a tough exterior, but are so caring and soft underneath it.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, “Stop using your voodoo shit on me.”

“Sunghoon.”

It was the first time you actually called him by his name, and oh did it do numbers on him.

He made eye contact with you, and immediately after, you backed away from him.

Sunghoon knew why. There was a spark of electric energy that shot through the both of you, that small string slowly getting tied, but being still loose.

He shook his head, not letting it tighten.

“I’m going back to the house.” Sunghoon quickly turned and walked away, leaving you.

You touched your chest, looking down at the ground.

“What the fuck was that.”

—

Sunghoon spent the rest of the day locked inside his room, flipping through the photos he had taken earlier that morning, stopping at the one of you.

His heartstrings were being pulled. The moment of the string being attached to the both of you came back into his mind.

“I can’t mate with a damn witch, it’s impossible,” he whispered to himself.

But the more he looked at your photo, the more his heart called to you.

He turned the camera off, set it on the bedside table, rolled over, and fell asleep.

He woke up at the sound of footsteps walking down the hall.

Sunghoon stretched, a yawn escaping his lips.

He checked the time off his phone, rolling his eyes at the time.

Sunghoon quickly got out of bed, sliding his sneakers on before walking out of his room, seeing the door to your bedroom was open.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, “What the hell is she doing?”

He found you outside by the pond sitting on the ground. Glass bottles filled with herbs sat in front of you, and a small fire was lit to your right.

“It’s three a.m.,” he yawned, “why the hell are you outside at three a.m.”

You turned and smiled at him, “I’m doing witchy things.”

Sunghoon scoffed, “I already figured that, hex girl. I’m asking what exactly you are doing.”

You turned back to the herbs, slowly mixing them together and setting them into the fire.

“Don’t you know the witching hour is three a.m.?”

Sunghoon shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, “Yes, isn’t that when your powers are at their strongest? Just like us on a new moon.”

“Exactly,” you sang, “My powers are only stronger for an hour, plus the protection barrier I put around the house was fading due to my injuries from the fire. I need to revamp my recovery spell as well, so these scars go away.”

Sunghoon’s heart pulled towards you even more, you were sacrificing so much to protect everyone, to protect him when he does nothing but be an ass towards you.

You stood up, brushing the dirt off your sweatpants, “The barrier on the house has been fixed, so yay!”

Sunghoon nodded.

“But I ran out of herbal recovery leaves, so I need more of that to remove all these burn marks.”

You started to walk away, only for Sunghoon to grab your arm.

You raised a brow at him, noticing how serious his face looked at you, “What?”

Sunghoon walked closer to you, tracing his fingers over the massive pink scar on your face, “You’re beautiful as you are,” his fingers moved over every inch of the scar, before moving down your cheek, his palm cupping your face, “You’re so beautiful, scars and all.”

Your heart raced. He thought you were beautiful? You thought he hated you. But you couldn’t help but feel that tug to him, and notice his energy was matching that tug.

“What is this feeling?” You asked, “This energy that’s flowing between us? It wasn’t there before today.”

Sunghoon reached for your hand with his free hand, his eyes meeting yours, “It’s the string of fate.”

You looked at him confused, “String of fate?”

“When vampires meet their mates, a string of fate ties them together,” Sunghoon took a deep breath in, “And I think we might have a string of fate tying around us.”

“Is that another way of saying we are soulmates?” You made a grossed-out face at him, which earned you a glare.

“Don’t look at me like that hex girl, you act like it’s a choice.”

“Is it not?”

Sunghoon shook his head, “Trust me if it was, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

“Must be spine-chilling knowing your string of fate is probably being tied to a witch.” you teased him.

Sunghoon half smiled, biting his lower lip, “You know for someone who was the head witch of your coven and village, you sure don’t know a lot about vampires.”

You rolled your eyes, finally pushing his hand from your face, “I was only recently appointed as head witch, it’s not something I wanted.”

Sunghoon squeezed your hand, “It’s like Jungwon being our leader, I don’t think he thought he was fit enough.”

“Jungwon is doing fanatic, better than I was.”

“I bet you were fine—“

“If I were fine,” you took a deep breath in, “Then Dorian wouldn’t have found a way to break the barrier over my village and wouldn’t have burnt down to ashes and killed my whole coven.”

Sunghoon pulled you to him, embracing you, “I am so sorry they didn’t get to you in time. The moment Dorian would have been near Jake we would have known, we would have been there in seconds and…”

“And what, bloodsucker?”

“I could have saved you and your coven.”

You looked up at him, “You hate me, hate witches, why do that?”

Sunghoon took a deep breath, pushing your long hair behind your ear, “I would have gone to protect Jake, he’s my best friend after all, but I would have met you sooner, and could have prevented what happened.”

You stepped away from him, tears filling your eyes and not wanting him to see it.

“I couldn’t have stopped what happened, but I can do something now to protect you and my pack.”

You made eye contact with him, once again feeling that string of fate, it pulled your hearts together, you could feel and see the red energy wrap around the two of you, but you could also feel Sunghoon’s heart trying to reject it.

“We can’t be mates, you won’t allow it.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, “Stop using your voodoo on me.”

you scoffed, “I’m not using voodoo! I am using my—“

“Just shut up and come over here and kiss me.”

You stared at him, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

You chuckled, “What?”

“Y/N,” your heart stopped at hearing how beautifully your name rolled off his tongue, “I am fighting to push out that string of fate. Anytime I’ve thought about who my mate would be, I never once pictured it would be you. Yet here you are in front of me. We are total opposites and two different types of creatures. And if you go back into that house and ignore this fate, then we will continue this back and forth. But if you come over here and kiss me, I swear I’ll be good to you.”

God damn that string of fate and god damn this vampire.

You rushed to him, standing on your tiptoes to reach his lips. His hands found your waist. The red energy of this fate tied you two into a knot. Bonding you as mates.

“Goddammit, hex girl,” he whispered in between kisses.

“Goddamnit, bloodsucker,” you whispered back.

Sunghoon sat against the tree, with you between his legs. Back against his chest and his arms wrapped around you.

You leaned your head against his chin, watching as the sun slowly peaked over the horizon.

“How long were you the head witch?” Sunghoon asked, taking your hands in his.

You sighed, “Only two years, I was next in line but I didn’t want it.”

“Why didn’t you?” Sunghoon was curious. Witches were something totally different than vampires, dhampirs, and even werewolves, their way of life was completely in the opposite direction.

“I didn’t feel as if I was ready,” you leaned more into him, “I don’t have as many years on me as some of the other warlocks and witches in the village.”

“And what time period are you from exactly?” Sunghoon teased.

“I saw the Salem Witch Trials happen.”

“Gosh you’re so old!” he teased you more, planting kisses on your cheek.

“Oh shut up!” you shoved your back into his chest, “I can NOT believe I am stuck with you until the world ends.”

“Get used to it, sweetheart.”

You both laughed and leaned more into each other.

“Can I take a photo of us?” Sunghoon asked, “I want to capture this moment.”

You nodded and he pulled his phone from his pocket.

“No camera?” you teased.

“Phone cameras work just as well.”

You looked into the phone's camera and gasped, “Oh my god! I can see your reflection!”

Sunghoon dropped his arm and rolled his eyes, “Shut up with your stupid ass jokes and take a nice photo with me, hex girl.”

You decided to stop teasing him and smiled into the camera.

Sunghoon stared down at the photo of the two of you, the happiness he felt, he could see it written all over his face.

“You know, I’ve never captured something as beautiful as you.”

You looked up at him, “And I’ve never thought I’d have my own personal photographer to take model photos of me.”

“God you’re so annoying.”

Hand in hand, you followed Sunghoon back to the house.

Everyone was awake and stopped everything they were doing in shock at the sight they were seeing.

“Who would have thought,” Jake teased.

Sunghoon tried hard to fight back his smile, “Shut up.”

Everyone laughed and joked along.

You were happy.

The moment you bonded with Sunghoon, you felt the same bond with the others, including your best friend and the humans in the pack.

It wasn’t like your coven, but the bond was still there. You belonged somewhere again.

You looked up at your mate, his smile working numbers on your heart. God you loved him so much already.

But Sunghoon’s smile faded, and so did the other vampire's smiles.

The room fell silent. The humans and you are both confused, clearly not being able to hear what they are hearing.

“Something isn’t right,” Heeseung said quietly.

“Sunghoon?” you take your hand in his.

He squeezed your hand tightly.

Before Sunghoon could open his mouth to speak, you sensed the other presence.

You dropped your mate's hand, and slowly back away.

You looked at your half-blooded friend, she was already looking at you.

“Dorian...” you whispered, “He broke the protection barrier.”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenched, “Guys what do we do?”

Before any more could be said, you and __ were running towards the door.”

“No no no!!” Sunghoon and Jake both yelled, grabbing ahold of you and her.

“Jake, fucking let go of me!!” she screamed.

You also fought off Sunghoon’s grip on your arm, “Let go of me!” you hissed.

“I am not letting you go out there!” He snapped.

You managed to get out of his hold and were out the door.

“Y/N!” Sunghoon yelled, going after you.

__ released Jake’s grip and was following behind.

Everyone else was right behind.

Dorian stood at the edge of the pond, two women standing at his side, and a black portal opened behind him.

You clenched your fist and you stood in front of him at a distance.

“Dorian!” you hissed.

“I see you survived being burned,” he laughed, “You unfortunately didn’t get the fate as your coven did.”

“How dare you speak of them!” You took a step forward, only to be stopped by Sunghoon getting in front of you.

Sunghoon glared down at Dorian, his rage hitting its peak.

Dorian laughed, “Oh this is too good! Two enemies mated? This pack continues to surprise me.” He glances over at your best friend with Jake also at her side, “Ahh, nice to see you again, __. I also see you’ve mated again.”

“Shut up!” the dhampir snapped, “Don’t you dare bring him up!! You murderer!!”

Dorian’s laughter grew louder the more he made eye contact with each member of the pack.

Jungwon and Jay have death grips on their mates. Their eyes narrowed and their jaws clenched.

“I would love to stay and chat up with you guys, but I only came for two of your mates, and that is all.” Dorian looked at the women at his sides, “Ladies will you do the honors?”

The women both smiled and disappeared.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened, those two weren’t like normal vampires.

“He used magic..” you whispered, “He figured out how to read the spells he stole from my coven.”

Dorian’s laughter filled the air and it only made Sunghoon rage even more.

With one blink of an eye, one of the women was at Sunghoon’s side, and then she was gone. She reappeared back at Dorian’s side with you in front of her, a knife pressed against your neck, the sharp edge making a cut, a small stream of blood dripping down.

The other woman reappeared with the dhampir at Dorian’s side.

As if on command, Sunghoon and Jake both rushed forward.

They weren’t thinking clearly. Their brains fogged and only had their sights on their mates.

Heeseung made it in time to grab Sunghoon, pulling him back, and Sunoo for Jake.

“GIVE HER BACK!!” Sunghoon screamed, “FUCKING GIVE HER BACK TO ME.”

“Sunghoon calm down,” Heeseung shouted, “He’s going to kill them both if you take one more step.”

Sunghoon stopped fighting Heeseung, but Sunoo struggled to keep Jake at bay, until Heeseung repeated the same words again, causing Jake to fall to his knees.

“Good,” Dorian said, “Would have been a shame to kill your mates in front of you.”

“What do you want with our pack members!?” Jungwon snapped a low growl leaving his lips when he yelled.

“I have some unfinished business with them,” Dorian stared down at Jungwon’s mate, causing Jungwon to press __ even closer to him, “I have some unfinished business with all of you actually, but Y/N and this dhampir are more important. They have something I need.”

Sunghoon went to take a step, just to be stopped by hearing your whimpers as the knife was pressed harder against your neck.

“Now then,” Dorian turned and faced the portal, “We shall be taking our leave then.”

He stepped through the portal, the women slowly following behind him.

Sunghoon and Jake tried fighting Heeseung and Sunoo again.

Both scream out for their mates.

Sunghoon felt powerless as he watched you disappear through the portal, quickly closing up after you stepped through.

The last thing you saw was the tears that filled Sunghoon’s eyes.

Once you were gone, all Sunghoon could do was fall to his knees, his fingers dug into the dirt as he stared down.

The sounds of Jake’s cries muffled out.

No one ever told Sunghoon how it would feel to have your mate taken from you, to feel the distance of how far they were. The loneliness of them not being at your side.

Sunghoon couldn’t hold in his rage as he let out a yell until his voice was gone and his throat sore.

The last thing Sunghoon remembered was Heeseung pulling him off the ground and dragging him into the house.

—

Everyone sat in silence the next morning.

Jake sat in the corner of the living room, knees to his chest and head on his knees, tuning out the world.

Sunghoon stared down at the photo of you he had taken with his camera. His hands shook.

“Dorian is going to pay.” Sunghoon said, breaking the silence, “I am going to make him pay for the things he’s done and get my mate back.”

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