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#the one i liked is taking too long and i dont have that much patience
toastsnaffler · 11 months
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istg one of these days.......
#ya know that post thats like texting lesbians: its throw bowling balls down the stairs day u better be game#one of my fave posts ever in the world#anyway my lesbian flatmate texts like the straight female friend part of that post and i love her but its killing me#its endearing but its so hard not to read it as flirty stoppitttt im already dedicating so much work to repressing this little crush 😭#ALSO THAT POST THATS LIKE FLIRTING W GIRLS WILL HAVE U ADDING :3 TO UR TEXTS literally so true but I dont think she means it like that 😭😭#like she talks to everyone that way I remember when I first met her me + my ex spent ages trying to work out if she was gay#bc we were so sure she had a gay vibe but every text felt like it was pointing the other way..... the vindication when I found out she WAS#anyway my resolve weakens with every 😘 emoji like im already thinking abt it dont give me any more ideas !!!!#its not even embarrassing anymore like how am i supposed to exist near someone like her WITHOUT ever having a gay thought#so im not sorry if she sees this. i take rejection like a champ dont be shy#but genuinely tho i dont think shes interested shes just cute like that. and idw make things weird cuz we're still living together next yr#itd be suchh a pain if i made things awkward right when we need to find a place. and anyway my best case is our 3rd flatmates WORST#i wouldnt do that to him god forbid#buuuut...... nope ok enough of that im going back to bed its almost 1am#this is what HAPPENS when u have insomnia tuning into the crazy radio every night#need to get onto dating apps and find smth new to distract me before this gets out of hand....... buttttt i dont want to >:|#its ok my patience is infinite i like playing the long game. i was into my ex for 2 and a half years before i made any moves#i can wait this one out too either itll happen eventually or itll pass. we're good#ok thats GOODNIGHT from me if u read this far wow ur nosy arent u...... jk ily sleep well everyone#muah all round#.diaries
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astraystayyh · 1 month
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[1:14 a.m. valentine’s day]
nothing filled you with pride like seeing hyunjin on stage— he bloomed under the spotlight like a flower whose petals only unfurled under the caress of the sun.
yet, a bit selfishly, it is in moments like these that you liked him the most. bare faced, cheek slightly squished against your pillow, his black wispy bangs falling upon his eyes, ones you delicately remove from his eyesight each time, as you are doing now, tucking some strands of it behind the curve of his ear. he responds by wrapping his fingers around your wrist and bringing your hand to his mouth, brushing your fingertips against his lips slightly— the softest to the touch, before bestowing a kiss on each one of them, his eyes never leaving yours.
it is in moments like these that you liked hyunjin the most, when he didnt feel the need to perform for anyone, where he existed in his most natural state, and where he chose to love you, so much, in it.
“aren’t you sleepy?” you ask softly, voice barely above a whisper. you’d do anything to preserve the quiet, barricade the door to the outside world with all your might if you had to.
“no,” he replies, just as softly, his hand falling to rest upon your cheek. “are you?”
“no,” you echo, as a traitorous yawn overtakes your lips. he giggles sweetly, head tipped back, as if his entire being needed to translate the happiness in his heart.
“liar,” he grins, pecking your nose tenderly, “you should sleep.”
“but it’s valentine’s day.”
“isn’t it tomorrow?”
“it’s already past midnight,” you point out and he hums, licking his lips slowly. the gesture brings you to his mouth, and a tiktok you saw earlier crosses your mind. hyunjin spots the mischievous glint in your eyes before you speak.
“i saw a good valentine’s makeup earlier,” you say, pointer finger gently tracing the contours of his face. “want me to try it on you?”
“right now?”
“it’s easy, and you’re not sleepy.”
“but you are,” he pouts and you giggle, kissing his frown away— it dissolves like sugar in tea from your warmth.
“i wanna stay up with you. hold on,” you quickly leave the bed and hyunjin whines immediately, flailing his arms in the air as he calls out for you.
“i’ve literally–“ you words are muffled as he brings you to his chest immediately upon your return, “-being gone for five seconds.”
“five seconds too long,” he mumbles against your neck, you let out a strangled squeal. “baby i cant breathe,” you heave and he lets you go, eyebrows furrowed in worry as he cradles your face, moving it from left to right.
“are you okay? can you breathe fine? should i perform CPR?” he rambles dramatically, voice growing high-pitched with each frantic question. you dont have time to answer before he crashes his lips on yours, taking your breath away once again, for an entirely different reason.
“is the CPR working?” he whispers against your mouth, a cheeky smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“idiot,” you giggle, pulling away from him, painstakingly, your lips refusing to part from his.
“so,” you finally clear your throat, sitting crisscrossed atop the covers. he follows suit, your knees bumping into one another. “the valentine’s makeup is just kisses all over your face, with lipstick. it’s a trend on tiktok, we can film it too…” you trail out, fully aware of his aversion to trends on that app.
“sure.”
“just like that?”
“what my baby wants my baby gets,” he grins, “please proceed.”
“yes mr. hwang, thank you mr. hwang,” you snort, unscrewing the cap of your lipstick. you apply a coat of the vibrant red to your lips, making sure to go over your cupid bow. hyunjin’s eyes never leave your figure. he leans in to kiss you as soon as you’re done.
“not yet!” you yelp, avoiding his kiss and his eyes grow so wide they start to resemble a full moon.
“i didn’t know this trend had rules,” a frown takes over his face and you giggle, running your thumb softly over the curve of his eyebrows.
“patience, baby,” you set up your phone, pressing record before handing it to hyunjin. he grabs it from you, a string of complaints falling from his lips. “can we go back to you rejecting my kiss, i actually cant believe you did that, i think that’s against the law–“ a soft kiss lands on hyunjin’s lips and he closes his eyes promptly, sighing into your mouth in relief. he quiets down, any sight of (dramatic) discomfort gone from his face.
“there,” you smile, before pressing a kiss to his cheek, it is a lingering one, trickled with a smile that does not want to leave your face, nor hyunjin’s, who’s grinning like a fool at the camera, a glazed sheen coating his eyes. next is his temple, then his nose, the tender skin beneath his eyes and the high of his cheekbones. kiss after kiss after kiss, imprint after imprint after imprint.
it is not your first time kissing hyunjin, far from your last, but there are still giddy giggles escaping your lips, making your teeth clash against his skin, making his eyes turn to moon crescents, ones the sky must be secretly jealous of.
you place a fleeting kiss on his chin, moving upwards to the corner of his mouth, then finally, what your hearts have been aching for, his lips, sweet like sugar as they meet yours, waves of love crashing into one another. the kiss deepens, as your hand runs through his hair, and he suddenly drops the phone, no longer caring about filming.
he grabs your jaw, angling it closer so he’d press your lips onto yours more deeply, and yet the kiss remains as soft, perhaps because it isn’t stringed along by lust, but by a tenderness that only manifests at 1 a.m. when you refuse to sleep because it’ll lead you away from hyunjin.
“you look so cute,” you whisper, as you finally part, your hands finding his jaw instantly.
“thanks to you,” his voice is silky as it drapes across your soul. your eyes soften, your hold on his face faltering. he is yours to love, under the shining light and the dim one. yours.
“happy valentine’s day, my angel,” he tilts his head to bestow a tender kiss on your palm. “thank you for loving me today too.”
“no, thank you for being so easy to love.”
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diobrando · 2 years
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My mom said my sister in law is going to let us take Dominic out on our own for the first time next Saturday like lmao don't get your hopes up theyre gonna renege on that promise
#imagine being someones aunt and not having the chance to take that child out even once in their 6 years of life#my mom must be so pissed bc i know its worse for her as a grandma to have such limited access to these kids bc my sister in law &her family#are more fucked up than ours#sorry that youre all jealous that im his favorite person in the world 🙄#you know theyre pissed that he is so attached to us despite the limited time we get to spend with them and its... idk distressing that they#think like that instead of being happy that we care about him and worry about him and would gladly offer to help them out more esp because#they always use him being on the spectrum as an excuse to claim he's a difficult child like rip to u bitches for not educating yourselvesso#about autism and getting mad at the child for not being 'normal' like sorry you refuse to curb your expectations but you should#he's a good kid with an appropriate level of curiosity and energy yall just took too long to seek professional help when the signs were in#your face so of course its gonna be harder to teach him anything bc you freaks also refuse to set up a good learning environment#yes im criticizing them as an individual who has no children but if I WAS a stay at home mom the situation would be very different#i would cook healthy meals instead of waiting for the daily McDonald's meal to show up. i would create better routines and devote more time#to my child instead of staring at my phone all day and delegating the task to my adolescent nephews/nieces and my mom and her gf#i also know how to drive like wtf does this bitch think shes doing complaining that she does so much girl you dont even drive... all the#stress is on my brother to provide everything and make time to take his son to therapy and doctors appointments bc YOU DONT DRIVE#she says shes the one that does it like no... someone is taking you so youre not doing it at all#like. i see the videos of my brother at the physical therapist with his son youre not gonna tell me thats you 🙄#the bar is on the floor with this bitch (yes i dislike her ❤ but i have to be nice bc oh boy if im not theyll go back to that phase of not#letting us see the kids again) but ohhhhhhhhh im so annoyed rn its so annoying that ppl become parents and expect their kids to be easy and#not require 100% of their parents attention love an patience#if they get divorced idc my brother better try to get custody but god that would be rough#if he moves back in he'll be able to say there are 3 adults to watch the kids & we can provide financially and have the space for everyone#but i know moms usually get custody even if in this case it wouldnt be the best outcome
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the-modern-typewriter · 9 months
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wgshdwgd im sorry if youre not accepting snippet reqs </333
but could i req you write abt a villain who *everyone* is genuinely terrified of. and then the hero just politely tells them to shut the fuck up. like, villain could be monologuing or smth and hero would cut them off saying that they would really appreciate it if villain could finish up in the next hour or so because they dont want to miss bargain day at the supermarket.
uwah im sorry if i broke any rules </33 stay safe its a crazy world out there <333
"-Could you please just shut up?"
There was a moment of absolute, horrified silence. One man promptly fainted. Nobody seemed to breathe for a few seconds.
The villain turned, slowly, towards the protagonist.
They were on their knees on the floor, surrounded by armed guards ready to execute the various staff still in their building. Their expression was one of exhausted long-suffering, one hand pinching the bridge of their nose as if to stave off a headache.
"Excuse me?" the villain asked, oh so softly.
"Will you please stop talking?" The protagonist dropped their hand, levelling the villain with a look. "Like, if you're going to slaughter the lot of us, just do it, don't make us listen to the spiel first. It's been forty five minutes."
"Are you so eager to die?"
"No. But if I'm going to die, I think I'd like to get it over with. Otherwise, I'd like to just go about my day. I need to buy food before the shop closes and takeaway costs a fortune. I mean, bloody hell. Forty five minutes. Do you really think anyone here is listening?"
The villain stared.
"Like, not to be rude," the protagonist said. "But they're all scared out their minds. They are not processing the finer points of your monologue. It's just so unnecessary."
"I could cut out your tongue and feed it to you."
"You don't have anything better to do?"
"I could cut out their tongues," the villain swept a hand around the room, "and feed them to you. That sorts out dinner, doesn't it?"
"I mean, I'm vegan, and not a cannibal, but I appreciate you're more concerned with being menacing than actually addressing the issue."
The villain stared some more.
The protagonist stared back.
"The data I need is still downloading," the villain said, after a long moment. "If I let you leave, someone will do something stupid like try and call the police."
"Sure, sure. But the monologue."
"You don't enjoy the sound of my voice?"
"I wouldn't take it too personally. It's been a week. Bit overstimulated, to be honest. Anyone's voice right now feels a bit like a cheese grater on my nerve endings."
"A bit like a cheese grater."
"No offense."
The villain blinked at them, slow and somewhat incredulous. "A cheese grater."
The protagonist shrugged.
"I'm assuming you didn't miss who I am in the last forty five minutes," the villain said.
"No."
"And yet."
"It's not that you're not terrifying," the protagonist said. "I just - forty five minutes. Humans aren't set up to be this stressed for forty minutes. My head is killing me. Processing all this - if you don't kill us - is going to be hard enough without having to fit in all the life admin I'm not currently getting done."
"Come here."
"...what?"
The villain crooked a finger to beckon the protagonist forward.
The protagonist swallowed, eyeing the villain warily, but didn't make them ask again. With a glance at the armed henchmen, they shuffled forwards to the spot the villain had gestured at their feet.
"You know," the villain said, "it's been a very long time since anyone has talked back to me."
"Sorry. I'm really not trying to be rude."
"No," the villain mused, head tilting with something alarmingly like curiosity as the protagonist came to a stop. "You're really not, are you? Turn."
"...turn?"
The villain gestured again, to indicate that the protagonist should face away from them.
"...You can't just give me all the orders at once? I get this is more dramatic, but I probably wouldn't be trying your patience as much if-"
The villain seized the nape of the protagonist's neck, like scruffing a kitten, making their breath catch.
Everyone watched for the inevitable torment. The punishment. The kill.
The villain's fingers dug into the knots of tension in the protagonist's neck, power sparking up the touch.
The protagonist sagged. "Holy shit," they breathed.
"Better?"
"Um. I mean - yes - but -"
"Good." The villain glanced up to the henchmen. "Shoot everyone else."
"What? Wait - no -"
The sound was deafening.
Then the silence was, once again, absolute.
"You didn't have to do that," the protagonist whispered. "I didn't mean - if I offended you -"
"Oh, you didn't, don't worry. That's why you're still alive. Tell me about yourself."
The villain's grip stayed unrelenting on the back of the protagonist's neck, holding them securely in place.
"T-tell-?"
"We still have ten minutes," the villain said, in a tone of great patience, "before the download completes. Tell me about yourself. I shouldn't be the one doing all the talking, after all. It's very rude of me, isn't it?"
Hesitantly, the protagonist talked, watching the blood pool on the floor. What else was there to do?
The computer finally gave a quiet beep to indicate that the download was complete.
"Good. Very good." The villain gave the protagonist's neck another gentle enough squeeze. "Now. Let's go grocery shopping," the villain said cheerfully. "Up you get. Dinner's on me."
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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year
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HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO
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⊹ 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.
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“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.
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⊹ PART ONE : A CHILD BORN IN WINTER MUST NOT LONG FOR SPRING.
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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,” 
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woozvc · 1 month
Text
call you tonight
final (part XIX)
w/c - 1.6k + smau at the end
a/n - and this is it! after so long call you tonight has officially come to an end. I hope the last part of this clears up the eunwoo situation (reading your replies and theories made my day😭😭) and i hope this is an ending you can be satisfied with. thank you so much for all your love and patience on this series. it truly means a lot that you guys stuck around till the end even with my terrible posting schedule 🫶
previous / masterlist
this is it. this is the day.
the event started 20 minutes ago and till now, it's been a success. the auditorium is filled with laughter and dancing, courtesy of jihoons playlists.
you're currently standing at a corner just observing the entire place. a part of you feels at peace that this is finally over, the results will be out today and this is it. a part of you is also shit scared. the past few days have been a rollercoaster.
seungcheols words keep echoing in your head about how you're still important to him and he's changed. you really want to believe him. you really want to give him a-
“hey are you okay?”
you wake out of your trace by jihoons voice.
“yeah I'm fine”
“you seen a bit…distracted” he hands you a cup of lemonade. you take it with a small smile and shrug his comment off. no need to reply when he's right?
“how do you feel, you know, about your performance and all?” you look at him. he shakes his head
“I don't know. all of this feels unreal. I never thought I'd have to perform that too dance but here we are”
“doesn't it scare you?”
“obviously it does, but I find some comfort in it too. maybe it's the fact that a part of me believes taking this chance could end really well. maybe I'll finally let go of my past fears and just let myself be in the moment once.”
“hah.. that sounds nice.”
“yea I guess so. I think whatever happens tonight, I just hope I don't regret it. I want to take that risk”
you open your mouth to reply but you're interrupted by hoshis voice calling jihoon. he gives you a small smile and walks away.
right. regret. don't regret tonight. you decide to leave your spot in the corner when you see hansol walk in. being with a friend is better than being alone.
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so jihoon is an amazing dancer. you were mesmerized, truly. his moves are fluid and his body doesn't miss a single beat. obviously hoshi is amazing too. his sharp and timed movements make him look like he was born for the stage.
the song is also amazing. jihoon later revealed it was called “bring it”. you'll definitely tell him to record it and send it to you.
the auditorium is a bit loud now. one hour till new year and the presidential results are about to be announced. you avoided seungcheol all night today. reason? you don't really know.
maybe you know mentally a part of you won't be able to handle his teasing if he wins. it's all friendly of course, but it doesn't change the fact you really, really want to win.
“hey y/n ready for the results?” jeonghan nudges into you and you push him off with an annoyed whine.
“jeonghan I swear if I don't win you'll have to wipe my tears”
“I won't mind that because I'll be winning”
“this is important to you huh?”
“it's my one shot to prove I'm actually good at something, can't fuck this one up”
“you dont have to prove yourself to anyone you know?”
“this is for me. I need this to tell myself I'm better than I think. I'm done always being known as the problem kid. and who knows maybe this will get me some street cred?” he winks and walks back to his group, knowing if he kept speaking, he would say something something sad and make you feel more stressed than you already do. you'd probably scold him for being so self deprecating too. your eyes follow him walking back and
oh.
seungcheol is looking directly at you. his gaze burning deep into you. you look away quickly, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. the music in the room slowly fades out.
“okay ladies and gentlemen are we ready for the most awaited moment of today?” seungkwans voice echos through the room and so does the cheering of the students.
“honestly? I'm not shocked at the result. I'm so proud of everyone who participated and made it this far. just know all of you are amazing and we as the student council and the teachers love your dedication. so first of all here are the names of the people who made it to the finals”
he starts reading off the list. there's your name and eunwoos name. after a few students he announces jeonghans name and….thats it? what?
this is surely a mistake and the entire auditorium feels so. there's chattering and confused looks all around
“ah yes, there's only 9 participants now. choi seungcheol removed his name because of some unavoidable circumstances so we divided all his votes to all the others”
your head shoots in seungcheols direction. you look at him confused and he smiles at you. he motions you to stay where you are for now. this can't be real? he can't just remove his name?
hansol taps your shoulder and tells you to focus on the stage. you look back at the stage, realizing you completely missed seungkwans dramatic speach on how much he waited for the results etc etc.
“and so, svtct, your student council president is…..y/n!”
there's screaming in the auditorium but this place has never felt so quiet. your legs are numb and your hearing is fucked. you…won? you actually did it?
“y/n go to the stage!!” jeonghan pushes you from the crowd towards the stage. you want to say something to him. you want to apologize for winning to him but
he's smiling so wide.
his eyes are genuine. he's genuinely happy you won. “don't worry about me, my favorite cousin’s win is my win” he grabs your hand and takes you to the stage.
seungkwan helps your walk onto the stage where the teachers are standing to give you your certificate and badge. you receive it, saying a small thank you to the teachers presenting and seungkwan hands you the mic
“any words president?”
any words? what the fuck even are words? you stare at the mic then back at seungkwan. you're glad you've been friends with him for so long that even without words, understands and nods at you
“I think our president wants to save the speach for during school hours to not bore us.. well I hope my speach was dramatic enough, wonwoo I'm looking at you. there's 30 minutes till new years so till then…enjoy!” he looks at jihoon to restart the music and when it does, all the eyes on you slowly move away as seungkwan leads you to the teachers.
they all congratulate you and praise you. after a while one teacher asks
“so who's going to be your vice?”
“jeonghan” there's no hesitation in your voice. the teachers seemed shocked, a bit put off too but they don't question it. they tell you good luck and let you go back to the crowd.
you stand near the stage for a bit. letting it all sink in. all these months of work, all the effort and everything worked out. even the banter with seungcheol worked- right. seungcheol.
you run back to try and find him when eunwoo bumps into you.
“hey y/n! congratulations there's no one who deserves it more than you” he gives you a smile and pat on your shoulder.
“thanks eunwoo”
“are you guys busy” you hear seungcheol behind you and immediately turn to him.
“not busy at all man” eunwoo says and walks off, winking at seungcheol while seungcheol just looks at him disgusted.
“I never liked that guy”
“why did you remove your name”
“he's always given me a bad vibe”
“you wanted this so badly”
“and he keeps flirting with-”
“choi seungcheol answer me.”
you cut him off
“answer you? okay fine. first of all don't call me by my full name. I left presidency because frankly I hate the pressure. I never wanted to be captain anyway. I got forced into it because of my grades and extra curriculars.” he takes a pause to look around the room before continuing.
”i realized I was only doing this because it was expected of me. so I left it. I rejoined the track and badminton team. that's what was important to me before and I'm going to continue it now” he says and looks at you. a small smile playing on his lips.
you're speechless. you always knew seungcheol never really liked captaincy but you didn't know till what extent. you feel bad. you feel bad for the all “why aren't you working” and “why did they make you captain” comments you said to him.
“I'm sorry seungcheol”
“for what”
“for everything”
he smiles. you realize that you're seeing his dimples after so long. he's never smiled that much in front of you before. he looks pretty.
“10 seconds guys!” yells seungkwan into the microphone. seungcheol softly takes your hand and says
“y/n, I know you haven't forgiven me”
10
“but I have to say”
8
“I've been thinking a lot”
6
“you're too important to me”
4
“I think I like you, more than friends.”
2
“can you give me a chance?”
“happy new year!” jeonghan comes and hugs you.
you have no idea how this is going to end. you're scared, terrified of this feeling but you won't let this go. you keep your grip on seungcheols hand. slowly the student council joins the hug and the rest of your friends follow. you look around. you're surrounded by people who love you, people who care for you. what could possibly go wrong?
“yeah…I'll take the risk.”
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2months later :
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taglist 🔖 — (thank you to you all <3)
@minhui896 @lirtha97 @haecien @thefroggybazaar @mayashu @jeonghansshitester @wonwoos-wineparty @huening-kawaii @sp1ng @wonwootakemyheart
@ddokye @thepoopdokyeomtouched @zzenkha @nishloves @weird-bookworm @sana-is-ms-rmty @immabecreepin @amxlia-stars
@peachhiz @punkhazardlaw @lockburn-castle @asyre @luchiet @ocyeanicc @wondering-out-loud @odetoyeonjun @tamcitrus @miriamxsworld @kissesfrmwonwoo @cherr-y-eji @jeoncatsworld @youre-on-your-ownkid @addicsvt @bangantokchy @tacosandbitch @sun-daddy-yoriichi @ckline35 @rakshithanotrao @isabellah29 @mangocustard16 @lone-lone-ranger @gyuguys @writingbarnes @scarlet931 @odxrilove @wonwoobestboyy @wollycobbl3-blr
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escenariosinfumables · 2 months
Note
Helloooo, i often saw hcs about op men trying to make the reader jealous ( on other blogs ) and I found the idea of making voluntarily your partner or love interest jealous a bit odd, weird, on the edge of being toxic… How the op men ( choose the characters I don’t mind ) would react if their love interest/crush just tell them « by doing that I loose all my interest for you » or something like that, if they try this? Many thanks! (Please don’t make the reader silly by acting like a dramatic pick me, she doesn’t put a scene but more glare at them with the most disapproving and perplexed expression- She’s like nahhh bro, really? 😐 it’s a real red flag for the reader) damn I made it long, sorry-
Hiiii! I chose some of the op man that i think would act out that kind of jealousy. Hope you like it and the reader doesn’t sound pick me at all (i dont like that type of reader too)!!
Jealousy
Headcanon with Luffy, Kid, Zoro and Shanks
Note: gn!reader. sfw and light nsfw for zoro idk. mention of toxic jealous! please don't be like them.
Luffy:
He is a jealous man, there is no doubt
At first you would not take him as one, because of his extroverted and playful personality
But is the typical one who wraps your body with his just to mark his territory
And would call you "mine" while he sees you as if you were the juiciest steak
He is also a man of almost animal instinct
If Luffy could impregnate you with his smell, he would
But only feels jealous of certain people
Like Kid or Buggy just trust me
It never bothered you, it's even funny to see him so out of his personality
But to sometimes it's too much
Like when the crew meet Buggy again
You love clowns, and especially how pathetic Buggy, the star clow is
Luffy barely lets go of you
In the middle of one of the clown's stupid speeches, your boyfriend gets angry when he sees you laughing at him
It doesn't matter that you laugh at the clown pirate's expense, for Luffy only he can make you laugh
Then he does something disgusting
Push He pushes Buggy away with his power and wraps you around your body again, running his saliva-filled tongue all over the side of your face
“Back off, you idiot!” he shouts to a bewildered Buggy. "It's mine!"
You have to count to ten to avoid hitting him
"Luffy," you say in the most monotonous voice possible, "if you do that disgusting thing one more time, I'm going to starve you for a month."
Lucky for you, the man understands
Everything can be missing except the food and you
Kid:
Territorial God
If you think Luffy can put his scent on you, Kid is capable of marking your body with his mouth too
And with his own Jolly Roger if he could
He's an insecure loser, we have to understand that
But he can also be a complete idiot
I think, except for Killer, he would be jealous of anyone who saw you for more than a second
I especially think he would be jealous of Luffy or Law
As if just the idea of seeing you near his direct competition for the op would make him much more susceptible
And this man can't express more than through anger
So when he sees you so immersed in your conversation with Trafalgar, just sees red
Your body is adorned by all the jewels that Kid has made just for you
Not only is it a way to show his feelings for you and to mark you as his property
It's also for drag you towards him with the power of his fruit
And what does he do then?
He iterrupts your conversation to kiss you like an animal in front of everyone, despite your resistance
He even bites your lip so hard until it bleeds, like some kind of punishment
You have the patience of a saint, but not even a merciful god could endure so much
"You know, Kid?" You tell him, trying to wipe away the blood running down your mouth. "When you act like a territorial dog I lose all interest in you."
And that is a hard blow to his pride, but he will only make fun of you
You ignore each other the rest of the day But that night he will crawl next to you in bed
And in silence he would give you a new metal accessory as forgiveness
You forgive him with a kiss, but with the threat of not doing it again
In any case, that night Kid will fill you with bite marks, like the good territorial dog that he is
Zoro:
He can only be jealous of one person
Sanji
He couldn't stand feeling his eye twitch with anger when the cook told you the silliest and most greasy things
He would feel worse if you laughed at them
Or if you played along
It's not that Zoro doesn't trust on you, but it's Sanji
And you can't help but bring it up while you're making love
While filling you with pleasure you'd say something stupid like
"Those stupid eyebrows couldn't ever make you feel like that, right?"
"That third place could never fill you like me" "
"That perverted cook wouldn't know what to do with someone like you"
Just like Kid, I see him marking your body And at first it's a little funny
But please, Zoro think more in Sanji than in you
Even when they are alone in moments like that
It's irritating and you even feel a little jealous
You put a hand on his chest and force him to stop
"Don't name other people when we're together, it puts me in a bad mood"
And Zoro can't let you be in a bad mood because of the stupid cook, so he keeps quiet and continues insulting him in his mind
You laugh at his expression of concentration
Concentrating on not naming Sanji
Shanks:
This man will deny it, but is the most jealous
Every time you arrive at the bar on a new island, there is always some fool looking to seduce you
He will make a great show
First he would not care, or so he tells himself
Then, he would approach you, wrapping around your shoulders or waist and would be friendly to the other subject
Friendly in a "Go away or I'll kill you" style with a forced smile
Then he wouldn't control it and make a stupid comment
Some joke about how well and deeply he knows you
And make fun of the person with sarcasm "Oh, you really know how to flirt"
"You would be a tough pirate to crack, ik" And all that idiotic stuff
He would also kiss your cheek several times
His arm presses against your body tightly
Shanks would even squeeze your butt
All desperate to make it clear who you belong to
It's quite a show for the rest of your crew, Ben especially enjoys it
But please, the person Shanks is jealous of isn't even interested in you.
You just wanted to talk to someone who wasn't a pirate
And this person is so funny
When the other person gets uncomfortable, you decide to put an end to it and say goodbye with an apologetic smile
You drag Shanks out of the bar and point your finger right in his chest
The Emperor trembles a little at the anger in your gaze
"You act like a toxic idiot again and you will be left without a hand"
He feels a little afraid, but the jealousy is more
"Then you shouldn't talk to others other than the guys"
You just stare at him before returning to the bar and sitting next to Ben
"Sorry Ben, the big idiot is sleeping with you from now on"
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kalims · 2 years
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‎˃ ᵕ ˂ . . "do I like you? is that even a question?"
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you like me, don't you?
heartslabyul : savanaclaw : octavinelle : scarabia : pomefiore : ignihyde : diasomnia :
note. woooo the long awaited diasomnia part! it took a little longer since I got busy the last few days + my booster shot 😭
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"my child of man. have you not realized earlier?"
malleus smiles at you fondly. there's not a smidge of irritation on his voice, and when you look into his eyes there's nothing other than clear satisfaction. you wonder how much patience he had to deal with you remaining oblivious to his 'courting'.
well it was fae culture so you had no idea he was trying to woo you until lilia commented about it so you can't exactly blame yourself for your ignorance.
though it doesn't seem like malleus minds either way, he even looks like he'd wait a thousand years till you'd realize his love for you.
still. you can't get rid of that embarrassment so you smile sheepishly. your "sorry. but dont you know that as a human I can't tell that you're courting me with your ways?" he blinks. ah, he really did miss the human part. you can't help but smile at his innocent pause.
he looks away slowly. "my apologies. it appears that I have failed to take that into account." he sighs. looking a little gloomy. "but I believe—"
malleus kneels right at your feet while you still in suprise. he places a languid kiss at the back of your palm, then settling it right under the side of his face. he looks serene, and certainly relaxed. "—that this works for humans as well." he finishes.
you wonder what his people would think if they saw their prince kneeling to the likes of you, a human.
lilia gives you one of his charming smiles. a little unsettling on first glance but you've grown to like his smiles."heh, wouldn't you like to know." there's a mocking tilt to his tone, still. you know it's more on the lighthearted side rather than of those with negative intentions.
from his previous position. which was doing his usual 'hanging from the ceiling' he leaps down skillfully, swiftfully. but you ought yourself to be less suprised when he's probably done it more than a hundred times.
he lands right next to you, and smiles a little more genuinely. "truth to be told you really have charmed me, my dear. so I suppose your words hold the truth." for instance lilia leans in, holding a sly grin.
perhaps it's his cheeky behavior at time that drew you in. or the surprisingly deep voice in contrast of his appearance. either way you really adore lilia but... sometimes he has no filter, and you don't know if you should appreciate it or not.
you cover the bottom of your face with a hand, a bit stupefied at his direct confession. "my hearts racing." you clutch your chest. if it wasn't out of your usual character you'd start smiling in giddiness.
oh wait.. or not. you hope your friends really just don't see the times you'd actually do that unconsciously..
with surprising care despite how easily he was able to. lilia removes your hand from your face, and gazes into your eyes with a somewhat triumphant look. "don't hide your pleasing face to me."
as usual. you look to the side when silence is the only response you get, the only sight you see is silver leaning against the tree. his breathing is slow, at ease. along with the fact that he's leaning to the side due to him forgetting he's putting too much weight. it's an indication that he was fast asleep.
you blink, and sigh. not really sure if you'd get another chance to get the courage to say those risky words again. "oh.. he fell asleep." you murmur to yourself more than anyone in particular.
the grass always looked comfortable so you just plop down next to silver as you see nothing else to really do, plus.. it was starting to get boring staring at nothing. you lay there for a couple of seconds before turning your head to look at silver.
coincidentally his little future accident already happened. the weight on one side made silver fall, luckily for you it was opposite the direction you turned which meant you got a front seat at silver's face.
you don't know how much time passed while you admired silver's features shamelessly, from his unfairly long, and curly lashes, the random shifts whenever he was asleep.. you could do this all day, he was beautiful when he slept like this.
he kind of reminded you of sleeping beauty. you pause, didn't sleeping beauty wake up from a true love's kiss? you might as well be named the world's biggest clown for thinking this is gonna work.
the intrusive thoughts just won. this is wrong. you think as you lean over silver's sleeping face. he isn't consenting to this.. you grumble, stare in conflicted, and close your eyes to pretend he doesn't just exist.
but still his face pops up in your mind. curse you silv— you open your eyes immediately at the sensation of a flutter on your lips.
you stare confusedly as you rise up on your knees, and look around. what the heck? seriously freaked out you stand up to take a further scour on your surroundings.
but then there's a firm grip on your wrist. silver is staring at you when you look back, the sleep still evident in his eyes. "hey don't leave. I like you too so don't leave okay?"
"you humans are getting too full of yourselves."
alike lilia. with no filter whatsoever sebek practically spat the sentence looking eerily calm. if there's something scarier than a prominent angry sebek screaming around in rage it's this one.
probably cause you can't get a read on him from his scarily cold eyes. you think you'd rather have your yelling sebek back in exchange for this out of character one cause it's making you think that everything you did was a literal mistake.
you put up a forced smile before it drops, and comes back up the second later. "uh well it was—" you instantly silence yourself when the space between sebek's brows starts to dwindle.
you can't believe if you're hallucinating it but you swear there's a big, fat, pink blush right on sebek's whole face. there's literally a nerve that he popped seemingly trying to contain the vicious blush he was fighting against.
oh. so that's where his spirit went, it was fighting the blush.
"BESIDES! I can't say that your words are a... half!.. lie..."
save it for sebek to somehow squeeze in a fraction of denial for the fact that he actually does like you as well. if he hates you so much like he had previously claimed then even you don't know where his feelings appeared from.
... if you could go back to the past and tell sebek his previous self your predicament he'll probably blow a fuse.
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curvykittyyssmutfics · 2 months
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corrupt!Nanami
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A/N: For @mozlov. Enjoy! 🫶🏽
corrupt!Nanami shifted personalities like flipping off the light switch on a dark stormy night: Your big soft bear was more savage than ever. "You're not listening. She's not takin time off. And as long as y/n works here, so do I. End of fuckin story." Nanami snarls at Yaga. Rolling and flexing his shoulders like he's getting ready for a fight. He's always so ready to box these days. Especially over you. "Nami, its okay. Let's just go-" You're pulling at his dress shirt, afraid shits bout to go down. But Yaga simply holds up his hand for silence. "If you can control yourself while we figure out your condition.. Y/n can stay, but-" Nanamis already taking a step forward, eyes narrowed. You gotta put yourself in between them to make sure your husband doesn't swing. "We'll allow you on the grounds for visitation but you simply can't teach like this. Not at the moment, Kento." Nanami stares at him coldly for a moment before turning to you. The adoration in his eyes gives you whiplash, but it's relief when he puts away the malevolent beast and returns your loving husband. "Long as she's good, I'm good." Said with too much conviction, slowly rubbing a thumb over your bottom lip, shallowly dippin between your lips to tease the tip of your tongue. You gasp, eyes wide at at how quick Nanami goes through the motions. Fuckin guy is now starin at you like you're his prey. "But she's takin the day off." He quickly pulls you from the room without another word, Yaga starin at Nanami's back in utter disbelief.
corrupt!Nanami turns out to be fuckin elated not to be a teacher anymore and quickly loses his dedication to the cause. He's only interested in the art of slaughter, no longer needing a valid reason to pull out his cleaver. Tries, and often fails, to keep that shit to a minimum. Dont get it twisted, Nanami's a murderous bastard. Isn't limited to just killing curses anymore but anyone that gets in his way. Yet.. he's aware how that fucks with your conscience. Knows he can sleep like a baby after but doesn't fuck with how that shit keeps you up at night. So he hides his bloody clothes after a long day, making sure to shower before coming to bed and scooping you into his arms. Falls asleep peacefully as his mind flashes scenes from his lastest kill.
corrupt!Nanami no longer asks your permission for shit anymore. Bent over to pick somethin up? That ends up with your husband puttin you on all fours, giving you back breaking back shots as your try to crawl away. "Quit that, y/n. Told yo fine ass bout doin that shit, right? Bendin over so just so I can see.. 'S all your fault.. You know I can't help it. Ass is too perfect to ignore." It's worse when you try to work out. Always sneaks up from behind to grab you, accusin you of excersing for hours just to tease him. So you find your self in Nanami's lap, cock warming him as you try to catch your breath from your workout. "Aww.. Poor baby, so tired. Don't worry, won't take long. Dicks been so hard watching this whole time. Help me baby, please. You're the one that did this to me.." Christ you cant even get any sleep round your torturer, most nights waking up to his dick hard between your thighs. This times he's awake, thrusting slowly as he holds you to him tight, growling your name at your ear. "Been waitin for you to get up. Look what you did to me.. Throwing that ass on me in your sleep. Come on, y/n. Lemme fuck. Took everything in me not to fill your sleepy lil pussy. Deserve a reward, huh? Gonna help me out?" Not like he needs it since you already feel his first load starting to dry on your thighs.
corrupt!Nanami doesn't have any more patience for you excuses on why you can't give him a baby. Tired as fuck of talking to you about it. So takes it to the next level and starts to plot on you, replacing your birth control with placebos. Then.. He waits to catch you off guard one pitch black night when you're walking to your car from class. You're energy completely drained, you just don't hear him swiftly comin at you from the side. A huge gloved hand blanketing your lips, trapping your scream. Nanami's snatches your wrist together, brawny body restraining you to the car. You struggle against him, too fuckin weak to curse him due to your overwhelming day. But he knows that already; deceitful ass went through alotta trouble to make sure your itinerary was extra full today. "Shhhh." You ignore him, the familiar voice and planes of his muscled chest against yours back not registering, buckin and tryin with all your might to break free. Fuckin turnin Nanami on watchin you attempting to escape, juicy ass repeatedly trapping his dick between your cheeks as you wiggle wildly against him. He ain't waiting a second longer. Fuck your screams, he'll deal with whoever interrupts him accordingly. Lets go of your mouth to rip at your bottoms like they're paper, making your struggles double. Might as well be laying limp, absolutely no match for the 1st grade. Nanami unsheathes his cock, spitting in his hand generously and lubing up. You're body's tense as fuck when you feel him stab through your opening. Pitiful insides clutching his dick like a dear old friend. "Loosen the fuck up woman.." The fuck? "Nami?!" He let's go of your wrists, slamming his hands on either side of you to trap you further. "I told you to be quiet." Snatches your head back by your hair and thrustin the rest of his dick into you. "Nami!" Shrill cry piercing the air. It's uncomfortable without foreplay to prepare you, still he digs you out without remorse. "Shhhh, y/n.. shhh." Nanami squishes you to the car, molding your body to his. Strokin deep as he can, like he'll never see you again. Literally fuckin loud moans from your throat, so damn good that its not your fault your gettin wet; slick building and forming a white ring around him. "Shhhh. Screamin your fuckin head off, baby.. So you not gone listen? Never do. Just like when I told you I wanted to breed this perfect cunt, make you give me a pretty baby. But you didn't listen then either. Now look what you made me do." So that's what this is? The revelation makes you try to get away again but Nanami's hold on your locks keeps you right where he wants you. Sharp yanks that makes you shriek, scalp stinging. "H-hurts, Nami. 'M sorry. So sorry." You whine to him, body fallin pliant against your car. But your husband rolls his eyes. He aint buyin your BS this time. "Naw, you gonna take this nut. Gonna give me my baby, woman." Pulling you off the car and into his body, your husband pummels your lil puss likes he's in heat. "Ahhh fuck, y/n.. Love you. Love you more than anything, finally gonna show you how much, honey." You're disgusted. At doin something this at the school. At him for startin a family like this. Most importantly, at yourself for still loving him, knowing that this changed nothing between the two of you. Even as he breeds your lil puss without consent. "Here it comes- ohshitohshit! Daaaamn, y/n.. Got so much for you. Mmmm.. So good for me. Thank you, sweetheart. Thank you so fuckin much. Only want a baby with you. Only you, y/n. Always been only you." Youre whining when his hips still, Nanami pressin his dick deep as possible when he finally impregnates you. "Love you so fuckin much, honey." "Love you too, Kento.. Fuckin asshole." He chuckles, pulling out and tucking you into the car. "Let's go home, sweetheart. Gonna make your pretty lil pussy cum before I fill her up again." "Kay, Nami."
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moralesluvr · 9 months
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hii 💗, i had a request/suggestion, but basically what if the reader (fem!afro-latina.) was a real hothead , had anger issues allat good stuff , really just gets annoyed or mad over the smallest things and she sometimes just lashes out in spanish, what would e42 miles do?
earth 42! miles morales ft. a hothead gf
♡ pairings & aus: earth42!miles morales x hothead!afrolatina!fem!reader ♡ summary: how your bf reacts when you get mad, lash out, etc. ♡ warnings: cussing in spanish, miles just happy to be here fr, i think thats it? ♡ a/n: thanks for your request!! ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡
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miles honestly didn't figure out that you had anger issues like you did until you went out on a date and they gave you the wrong order
you were tight, because you had already waited an exceptionally long time to even get the food + the order was wrong? all your patience literally had been lost along with the meal that you were supposed to have
"puta madre...we ordered that shit like an hour ago!"
"ay, mami, cálmate," miles would tell you, soothing you with a rub to your back or a kiss to your lips, "'s aight, we can go somewhere else if you not feelin' this place."
he def knows how to calm you down. sometimes you'll get mad at him for doing or not doing things but he has to remind you that you really ain't wearin the pants lmao. sometimes it ends up in arguments but he knows that you can't control it and that you only mean well
"miles, tú idiota! limpiar este lío en este momento!" (miles, you idiot! come clean up this mess right now!)
¿con quién hablas así? fix that attitude." (who you talking to like that?)
he can always tell when you're about to go off or lash out, so he always tries to stop you if your anger becomes unhealthy. in public, though, he finds it funny when you curse or express your anger in spanish because usually no one can understand it but him
def def def kisses you to make you be quiet. you're talking/rambling too much? he kisses you to make you 'hush that filthy mouth' (his words not mine!)
he can always count on you to tell someone off if needed though. he likes when you stand up for yourself but if you go too far he'll definitely speak to you about it in private
"mami, you know damn well what you said wasn't right. now go apologize"
and u just slither off all grumpy and go apologize (even tho u probably dont mean it!)
he lets you take all your stress out on him, because he can handle it, and you find it relieving. sometimes he'll settle you down with a smoke or he'll let you literally scream at him bc he's unfazed anyways, you could never hurt his feelings
"you piece of shit." "yeah, princess, that's right-- let it all out."
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𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @enj4i // @chrissytalia // @chaoticevilbakugo // @motheroffae
𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @my3tumbles // @aziulsworld // @enchantingfoxsparkles // @mancerseedu // @cafehyunji // @personofyou // @mcdvsr // @kopiivie // @ellatienesuscosas // @venuswash3re // @calliarlerte // @pr0wlerpunk // @tzuyuzzs // @wisepoetrycheesecake // @clearskiiiess // @d3atht3hek1d // @vienreina // @pixqlsin // @caulifloweron // @aizawassimpblog // @stvrgrl // @zerosinterweb // @ishqani // @mookiebut
𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✎: @Dee-m-cee // @euphorichappiness10 // @adoree-kaelynn // @mhadnirb // @mmst4rz // @iris-theflower // @fleurrieerecs // @kenlani // @kala2022 // @ilyless // @milesmolasses // @laylasbunbunny // @all444miles // @thecoloredpages // @bl00dsuccker // @evacowan // @popeheywardssecretgf
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ghostie-luvs · 9 months
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HIIII
so would it be okay if you made a yandere! hero x a villain! reader? Like a hero that’s looks like an absolute angel to the public, but when he sees the reader, he just turns into the villain. In private ofc!!
AND DJDNTJDKNR ITS OKAY IF YOU DONT WANT TO DW HAVE AN AMAZING DAY YOU WONDERFUL PERSON ☆
-🎀
Yandere! Hero x Villain! Darling <3
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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who debuted as a hero just after he graduated high school. He had always looked up to heroes and it was his dream to become one. He always liked the idea of saving a person and seeing the relieved faces all because of him.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who felt excited even though he was hurt while rescuing a civilian for the first time, getting them to safety and loving the “thank you’s” and smiles he received.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who feels accomplished the more he saves civilians and sends the more villains to prison, where they should be. You can imagine the surprise the night he fought a villain and did not even have the heart to do any damage to them.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who later in his debut, is known all around the country for the amount of innocent people he has saved. He is praised everywhere he walks and is always somehow there when villains seem to be lurking. The people all love him. How could they not? He’s so sweet, he saves everyone, and he’s rather good looking too!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who saved a civilian one night in the alleyways as he hears sounds of struggle, seeing the two figures as he throws his daggers, the blades pinning the culprit and into their flesh as a soft hiss leaves their lips, their eyes flickering over to his as the once trapped civilian thanks him and runs away.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who walks over to you, scanning you over as he takes in the blood trickling down your skin and oh…even under that disguise you sure are cute. He sees the way your lips form into a snarl and how you struggle against the blades, one in your side and the other trapping your suit to the wall behind you. Only a small laugh escapes him at the sight. Feisty too, huh?
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who sighs as he frowns a bit, seeing the blood down your side and arm. In his sweet voice, he offers to help you out, only cocking a brow at your refusal but eventually you give in and now, here you both are, in his humble abode, where he’s stitching you up and bandaging you.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who after that, lets you go and as a consequence, sees more of you often during those nights. During these many nights together, he’s gotten to know you..he might even say that he’s gained some…feelings? That’s absurd, he’s a hero and you’re a villain! He’s dedicated his life to locking villains up. And yet..he can’t do a single thing to you.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who meets even your villain friends and..well, was invited to do what they do. With you, he’s learned so much..he’s felt more exhilarated during the nights together than when saving people. Of course, he wears a different disguise during these nights. He’s till the sweet, caring hero they all love during the day. But the night? My, he’s made a name for himself with you and your friends.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who, one night, while committing crime with you and your friends, sees your friend being just a bit more touchy while you were rolling your eyes and trying to leave the friends grasp. He didn’t say, but he felt a twinge of jealousy in his stomach as you two interacted.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who, as the night drags on, finally loses his patience, a snarl on his own lips as he ‘confronts’ the friend, trapping them to a wall as he pressed one of his blades to the person’s throat while the rest of the group walked on, and he threatened them. “Look, you may have known them longer. But you better fuck off, they’re mine. Got it?”
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who mockingly smiled as the person nodded and he retracted his blade, walking off to catch up with you, wrapping an arm around your own waist as the person is left befuddled.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who realizes that maybe, the villain life isn’t so bad. As long as you’re by his side, that’s all that matters.
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A/N: M so sorry for the long wait but I thank you for the patience!! I loved this idea and I loved how I ended it <3 I hope this was enough for you, darlin!! And also, welcome to my blog 🎀 anon! You are also a wonderful person!! In this, I’d say he’s a new yan and I’ll give him a name soon ! :) reblogs, comments, and constructive criticism (please tell me if there are any mistakes) are welcomed!!
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© @ghostie-luvs All works belong to me,, please do not post my works, modify, or plagiarize on other platforms and this one unless stated otherwise.
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oopsimbug · 3 months
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in which… y/n is stubborn, and harry is still an asshole
a.k.a. regency harry pt. 2
a/n: gah… i literally dont know what to say… how about: oh my god i am so sorry for taking so long! school, two jobs, a lack of inspiration and literally hating my own writing made sure i was unable to post for an entire YEAR AND FIVE MONTHS!!!! i DEEPLY apologise. i hope this is alright? let me know what you think! and yes, there WILL be a third part, hopefully out before the earth is enveloped by the sun?
pairing: regency era! harry styles x reader, enemies to lovers
summary: again, think little women, but with you instead of jo and harry instead of laurie… but harry is an asshole… a RELENTLESS asshole
warnings: harry is still a GIANT ass, all enemies no lovers, lots of really mean things said to each other, they literally truly hate one another like i have my work cut out for me trying to redeem this couple :’)
word count: 10.8k (smaller than my first chapter, but god did i struggle getting over the 9k mark… i literally hate myself)
read part one here!!
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Money…
It was what made the world spin around. 
Unfortunately, the L/ns did not have as much of it as they used to. 
This was why, when their mother needed money to visit their father, who fell very ill, Y/n set out to find a job.
Replacing her mother at her job in the nurse's office wasn’t going to work- she was horrible with sitting still for too long. Besides, her hands were far too shaky to hold silly little fiddly needles. No, there was no chance she would do that. 
She could try to get a job at a shop- a bakery possibly? But no, she had little patience for old people, who were always either very interesting and passionate, which she loved, or very snooty and cold, which she despised with every cell of her being- and unfortunately, the majority of customers were the elderly, who shopped when they had nothing else to do during the day, and they were predominantly of the latter kind. 
Y/n was positively puzzled- stupendously stumped and magnificently muddled. She knew she was talented, but what job would she fulfill that would be of use and make a substantial pay? She pondered that all morning as she completed her chores- tending to the animals and picking up more wood. Once inside, she stoked the fire, made two cups of tea and sat at the dining table. 
“Saf!” she called to her sister upstairs. “Bring your packet and come to the table- it’s 9:30!”
At the age of 13, girls were forced to graduate school. Ma and Y/n, who didn’t believe this was enough of an education, devised a plan- once graduated, the L/n girls would do tutoring sessions with Y/n, who was passionate and proficient in all areas of English, which was what the girls would require the most to function in the world. She would also help with arithmetic- though it was not her strong point, she was confident in the skills they would probably need. Safia was under the tutoring of Y/n, as would Ula the next year. 
As she waited for the pitter-patter of Saf’s feet down the stairs, she thought to herself. Unfortunately, all natural thoughts seemed to lead in the same direction lately- all pertaining to a certain tall and lanky individual with brown hair. She was not moping, that was for sure- Y/n did not mope. She was not even upset about him choosing a different woman over her- that was a fleeting insecure thought held only in the heat of the moment that night. No, she was mad. Furious, in fact. How dare he- how dare he?! He strung her along, purposefully got her hopes up for the mere sake of making fun of her- he embarrassed her and then had the utter gall to smirk and wink about it afterwards! Y/n always had a temper, but this was anger on a whole different level. This was searing, hot, burning, blood-red vexation. Her hands began to ball into fists- she wanted to hit something, break something, hurt him and only him. 
However, before she could fantasise about all the ways she would cause him pain, she felt a soft arm on her shoulder. She must’ve been caught in a trance, unable to hear her sister come down the stairs and call her name once she reached the bottom and found Y/n unresponsive, as Safia’s face held deep concern, eyebrows knit together as she repeated her question. 
“Are you okay, Y/n?” her tentative and soft voice carefully asked, placing a hand on her forehead to check her temperature, ever the sweetheart. “You’re not feeling ill, are you? I know Liz was rid of her sickness a few weeks ago, but it may have lingered around the house.”
She smiled up at her younger sister, who moved her hand to feel her cheek, after finding no suspiciously hot temperature on her forehead. She shook her head and let out a small laugh, all of the rage for him leaving her thoughts. 
“I’m okay Saf… just thinking…” she replied honestly. She was just thinking… thinking of how she would pelt that damned boy with logs of firewood. Or maybe she should let Flynn at him- she had already told the Clydesdale of what had happened. Maybe he could stomp him down till he quivered and shook with fear, begging both of them for forgiv-
“Thinking about what?” Her sister’s voice pulled her out of her reverie once again.
Y/n looked up at her face, smiled brightly, pulled out the adjacent chair and patted it lovingly, before replying with a jolly tone.
“Nothing that you should worry about… Now, are you ready to venture into the world of Hedda Gabler?”
Her sister smiled sweetly before sitting down, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Of course I am!”
“Great! Because today, we are going to be analysing gender and how it influences power within our passage!” Y/n was always so excited to teach her about the books, poems and plays that she liked- there was no way she would teach her sister boring and dull theory, or pieces that only reflected a man’s perspective. No, she had an opportunity to open her sister’s mind and hopefully make a lasting impact on it- one that encouraged her to pursue her dreams without needing the opinion or permission from a man. And she wasn’t going to waste it. 
“Now, open to our bookmarked page, and let’s begin…”
*****
After finishing classes, Y/n got dressed and ran out the door before her sisters could follow her, unable to take all of them to the village on Flynn, and not wanting to upset anyone. She buckled the saddle into place and hopped on before riding the path all the way to town. After tying Flynn up with hay and water, she straightened out her dress and apron and began walking, dodging men who gave her glances of annoyance for her slightly messy loose hair, mussed on the fast journey on the Clydesdale. She had bigger things to worry about, despite what Liz would say…
She was picking up some lemons from the market, which Ula insisted on getting, convinced that they were necessary to her social status in her school, where pickled lemons were the talk of the town. While the need for lemons didn’t sound dire to Y/n, Liz benevolently gifted her extra loose change, justifying it with something about “knowing what it was like to not fit with others at school”. And while Y/n didn’t believe money like five whole dollars should go to waste on lemons, she still searched the shelves intently, looking for some that weren’t too costly. While leaning forward, she walked through an aisle, scouring the lowest shelf for them, unaware of the person she was about to bump into. Curse her clumsiness! 
She walked right into the unsuspecting person before standing to full height, apologies spilling out of her rapidly as she helped the older lady regain balance. Y/n had never seen her before- an older woman, around her own mother’s age, with brown hair that was greying from the roots and forest green eyes that twinkled, reminding her all too much of a certain boy, but she pushed those thoughts away. She also looked of money, with her elegant dress, shoes and shiny jewels.
Y/n began spilling out apologies as it was her own fault for the collision, and the kind lady forgave her each time with a “That’s all right, my dear”, with calming energy radiating from her. Once the two women had settled they let out breathy chuckles at the incident. Beginning to move back to her search for cheap citrus was halted, however, when Y/n noticed the woman seemingly struggling to find what she was looking for. Y/n observed covertly as the lady would gingerly pick up a bottle of what looked to be cologne, look at the label for a few seconds, squint as if to make out what it was saying, before putting it back nervously and repeating with the next. 
Y/n noted that when she would “read”, her eyes didn’t stop to comprehend the words. She needed help, and Y/n was not one to shy away from that fact. 
“Hello,” Y/n began. 
The lady smiled sweetly as she replied, her green eyes twinkling with curiosity.
“Hello, love.” she gently replied. 
Y/n wanted to help without seeming patronising, so she was careful with her words. “So, what brings you here, Ma’am?”
She looks around, then down at the glass bottle in her hand before looking back at Y/n. She fumbles and hesitates as she answers.
“Oh- well- I am looking for this shoe polish, but… I seem to be having a bit of trouble…”. She went beet red before she whispered in a meek and quiet squeak only fairies could hear. Fairies or those who had experience with shy sweethearts as Y/n had with her Saf. 
“You-“ she slightly huffed a bitter laugh through her nose. “You probably can already tell, but… I can’t read…” she confessed, thoroughly embarrassed.
If Y/n wanted to help the woman before, her holding cologne that would most certainly tarnish leather while shopping for shoe polish convinced her utterly and completely. She did not hesitate- not even for a beat, determined to show that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all! 
“I can help you! I never use shoe polish- my shoes are always getting muddy anyways, and it would only be a pain to scrub them for nothing, so I don’t have any suggestions in mind, but if you have an idea of the type of polish you wanted, I could help you out!” She dropped personal anecdotes into the conversation, as she often did when conversing with strangers, finding it easier to comfort others to relax around her when they knew she was an open book.
“Oh thank you, my darling! I am looking for a dark brown and black coloured polish that would work best for making leather loafers shiny.” 
And with that, Y/n began her search, starting with going to the correct section, before beginning to scan the tiers of the shelves carefully, looking for what the lady wanted. The woman followed her and began a friendly conversation with her as she searched. 
“My nephew needs new polish for his shoes. I would have told him to do it himself, but he’s out of town, you see. Went out of town, about a week’s trip away. I couldn’t send my maid either- I wished for her to take some time off while there were less people in the house, you see. So here I arrived, figuring I could just find it myself. Ah, how foolish.” She then sighed once more after simmering in laughter for a bit, looking wistfully at another tin she could not decipher the contents of. 
Y/n found the two tins of shoe polish, holding them out to her while responding firmly. “Ma’am, you are not foolish at all. At least you tried! And look, here you are helping your nephew who’s out of town, after letting your helpers take a break! That’s not foolish, that’s compassionate,”.
The lady smiled warmly, the wrinkles next to her eyes crinkling and creasing beautifully as she did. “Oh, darling, you are very sweet for using your gift to help those who cannot. Thank you!” She lightly squeezed Y/n’s cheek playfully before walking to the counter, Y/n following after her before placing the tins on the table for the cashier to process. 
“You are very welcome Ma’am.” The lady began to pull open the small embroidered coin purse she had in her slightly wrinkled yet sturdy hands, fishing for a coin before dropping it into Y/n’s palm and winking. 
Y/n’s eyes went wide as she attempted to hand the coin back. 
“Ma’am, I couldn’t possibly. I was just trying to be of service, truly. Please take your money.” 
But the woman was not having a lick of it. Her face grew stern, her eyes fiery as she quickly snapped back. “Don’t you dare try to give that back, it’s yours!”
Y/n reluctantly smiled and nodded gratefully before walking back to the shelves to continue her search for lemons as the gentle tinkle of the doorbell indicated the sweet lady’s exit. She could not stop thinking about her, however. Why was it that men were taught to read and write and build and farm, but women were only taught how to be good mothers and wives? That woman could learn to read- anyone could, really. All she needed was a teacher… 
Suddenly, Y/n had an idea. One that caused her to drop everything she was doing and run out the door to look for the woman. Teaching! Y/n could teach the woman and in return, get a bit of money! After looking around, she found her walking down the cobbled street, seconds from entering a very expensive and fancy carriage. 
“WAIT MA’AM!” Y/n cried, weaving past the people and carts on the busy street as she ran to her. The lady’s ears perked and she looked back, locked eyes with Y/n and froze with concern, allowing the younger girl to catch up. 
“Yes, my dear?” She asked, once Y/n had caught up and was attempting to catch her breath. After a few deep, embarrassingly wheezy breaths, Y/n finally calmed herself down enough to respond. 
“Icouldteachyou-”, she said exasperated all in one sentence before punctuating it with a heaving breath. After taking a lungful or two of air, she clarified to the poor confused woman.
“Ma’am, I could teach you how to read! If you would like!”
The woman’s eyes opened wider in astonishment before her face brightened with a radiant smile. “You would teach me?” She asked, almost flabbergasted.
“Yes, of course!” Y/n responds, enthusiastically. “I am currently teaching my sisters how to read, so I know how to do it! I could help you too if you would like!”
The woman’s warm and grateful smile shone brighter than the sun. And Y/n’s heart stuttered with excitement when she asked to exchange addresses for further communication. 
This was it… she was finally going to help her family.
******
It was four days later when the L/n residence received two letters, both with express stamps on them, signaling their importance. One was a letter from their father, which the girls were keen to read immediately, but waited for their mother to come home so they could unveil it together. The other, however, was mysteriously addressed to and only to Y/n. How peculiar! 
“Y/n you must open it in front of us- what if it is a secret admirer hoping to eagerly profess their love to you!” Ula whined. Liz shook her head and looked at the youngest girl. 
“If Y/n wants to keep this to herself, she exercises her right to do so”. Liz’ eyes drift to Y/n’s slowly as she continues. “…However…”, before finally running and springing onto her. “You MUST tell us if it is!” 
Y/n rolled her eyes at her sisters, despite Liz’s best attempts to put an end to the “unladylike” and “brash” behaviour. “Come on, there is no way it will be a boy… have you ever even seen me with one? I would run circles around them in every sense before their tiny minds could even get a singular word out!” 
Y/n, though thoroughly believing in her statement that yes, she probably could outshine any boy in the town, also- in the back of her mind- registered that yes, maybe she was overcompensating and exaggerating just the smallest bit in order to shield her heart, still sore from the events of Tilly Hughes’ ball and that wicked boy. Her sisters chuckled at her musing as she made herself comfortable on the sofa chair next to the fire, all three of her sisters huddling behind her in order to get a good view of the elegantly folded and wax-sealed letter that Y/n began to tear open. Once the pristine paper was unfolded, she stood up and began to pace as she read- her sisters giggling and breathing over her shoulder was doing no good, and she needed to focus. It read:
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Before Y/n could process the words written on the paper, Liz narrated the letter to Saf and Ula- the latter began to squeal mercilessly, while Liz grinned from ear to ear, pores radiating with pride for her sister. 
*******
The house was astonishing. It was grand, it was elegant, it was pristine.
Above all, it was capital!
The trek down the natural and lush path of trees and fields was all a ruse- Y/n knew Ms Ophelia was a rich woman, but she but any preconceived notion of what her house may look like while trekking the trail was completely, utterly, jaw droppingly decimated. Once reaching the end of the driveway (walking ever so slowly to take the majesty in), Y/n and Flynn were met with pristine hedges that bordered the entire property. Two large white marble columns with oil lamps attached signaled the beginning of the courtyard. In between them, was a large opening where Y/n could see the greenest grass she had ever witnessed, a center hedge path, and behind it, Ms Ophelia’s grand home. Y/n’s mouth was hung open as she approached the large, stark white building, with its covered entrance, wide expanse and huge windows. 
It was a stretch for it to even be called a house. It was a mansion- a manor. Y/n resolved that there must be a plethora of family members that justified the sheer volume of space there was to occupy. She stepped off of Flynn, held the end of his reign, and walked through the grassy courtyard and to the front door. She would have taken Flynn to the stables, not wanting her first introduction to her well-paying student to be interrupted by the attention-hungry Clydesdale, however, the house was so grand she could not even begin to wonder where the hell the stables could be. Instead, she smoothed the light wrinkles out of the frock that Ula picked for her, slightly disgruntled when remembered the lack of a waistcoat she had on. She attempted to fix and flattened the now slightly frizzy hair that Liz had spent almost an entire hour to style, mussed a tad due to the breeze created while riding Flynn, before taking a deep breath in... and rang the doorbell.
She heard some muffled clattering, before hurried footsteps approached, growing louder and louder before they reached the mahogany door, pulled open to reveal a positively ecstatic Ms Ophelia- her brown hair pulled back with a hair pin, but similar in frizziness to Y/n. Her eyes squinting with her warm closed lip smile, the green irises truly dazzling with excitement. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant green and white silk dress, her chest adorned with a single thin gold necklace threaded through a small locket. 
"Y/n!!! So nice to see you!” The lady took Y/n and Flynn in with a charming smile, cooing at the latter before stepping forward to give the Clydesdale a stroke down his white blaze and a scratch on his chin, causing him to preen, closing his eyes a soft huff of pleasure. She then looked to Y/n. “Please, my farmhand Thomas will take this handsome boy to the stables out back."
She looked past Y/n to the front garden and called to the man Y/n hadn't noticed had been planting flowers. He had shiny blonde hair, short from the sides while the top was long and messy, slightly damp with sweat. He pushed the golden mess out of his face and smoothed it back, revealing a bit of dirt on the sun-kissed skin of his forehead. Descending down, there were thick eyebrows, hazel brown eyes squinting in the glare of the sun, a strong nose, and full lips that were pursed and curved into a sweet and friendly smile. He stood, brushed himself off, approached Y/n, and wordlessly took Flynn with a charming smile, nodding to her before walking around to the side of the house. After losing sight of him, Y/n looked back to Ms Ophelia, who opened the door and gestured Y/n in. 
"Please do come in!" As Y/n stepped through the threshold of the house, Ms Ophelia continued. 
"I was just about to make myself a cup of tea- I warmed up enough water for the both of us. How do you take it?" The older woman began walking, Y/n trailing behind her as they entered the beautiful eggshell white kitchen with purple accents.
"Oh, well if it isn't a bother, I take one sugar and only a bit of milk" Y/n watched as the woman poured the boiling tea into the two mugs. 
"Huh!" Ms O looked at Y/n funny, before looking down at the cups she was working on. "Me too! Just enough milk to make it a very dark brown?"
Y/n’s eyes begin to light up incredulously. "Yeah! That's right! My sisters all think that I never put enough in!" 
"My nephew does too!" 
The women looked at each other and smiled- they both knew there was some sort of connection that brought the two of them together, and that they would be kindred spirits. 
*******
The lesson went swimmingly, as agreed by both Y/n and Ms Ophelia (sorry- just Ophelia, the older woman had been very adamant about that). They had sat and begun with the alphabet, and while Ophelia was quite bashful when Y/n corrected her, they knew that with time, they would become more comfortable. Eventually, despite her consistent imploring that she stay for dinner, Y/n insisted she must go home. 
"But my nephew will be home soon! He is such a charming, well articulated boy! Loves reading and the such- You two would get along so delightfully!" She clapped her hands eagerly at the thought, however, Y/n, softly stroking a saddled Flynn- thanks to Thomas, who wordlessly passed her the reins before walking off- looked at her new student and friend with a soft smile. 
"I'm sure anyone who grew up around you would be a wonderful friend, Ophelia, however I really must get home. My family will be expecting me soon."
Once goodbyes had been exchanged, they agreed to meet once again in a few days. And with that, Y/n mounted Flynn and began to ride the now dusky ride home. She may have dawdled a little- the sun was still so warm, and the breeze was beautiful. Flynn moved at a comfy pace as she appreciated the beauty of the world around her. 
However, that beauty was soon not in her focus when Y/n noticed someone riding towards her in the distance. She continued her pace, and as the figure approached, ready to return a polite nod if they were to greet her. As the figure continued on further, she squinted and began to make out a mop of brown hair, and a black blob of a coat, before all too quickly she recognised those sharp green eyes and the nose and those stupidly plush lips as he trotted closer and closer and god- oh no…
Y/n began to feel her stomach drop.
"Well well well! Look who it is!" That snide voice, that blasted smirk that taunted her. 
It was her arch nemesis.
His horse slowed down while she did nothing to stop Flynn, walking completely past him without even acknowledging him- her eyes forward and steely. She thought she had escaped him but she heard footsteps coming closer, however, and soon, Y/n was walking side by side with none other than Harry Styles. 
"What's with the cold shoulder, sweetheart? Have I done something to upset you?" He taunted in a teasing tone. 
"I am not your sweetheart, and don't you have a party to crash, loverboy?" She rolled her eyes and kept moving forward, him keeping an identical pace beside her.
"Ooft, take it easy darling, you’re going to hurt my. Large. Throbbing. Swollen. Red. Hot. Heart!" He punctuated each word with a beat, and Y/n's face became hot; she began to scrunch the sweaty leather reigns harder into her palms at the obvious innuendo. Harry saw this and grinned wickedly for getting to her, a malicious giggle even seeping out of him- he enjoyed this. He enjoyed relishing in her awkwardness. Once his giggles calmed, he shook his head and continued. "What are you doing out so late anyways? Meeting up with a secret lover?" 
Y/n couldn't even dignify that with a response, and merely scoffed and rolled her eyes again at the preposterous accusation. He noticed and continued.
"Hey, you scoff at that now, but who knows. It seems to be the quiet, pure ones that surprise me the most. The most proper girls always turn out to be the dirtiest. So, no- I don't think it's out of this world for a little thing like you to be getting your hands or mouth sullen for a bit of pleasure. Did you see the way you trembled for me the night we met? And the way you cried when I was paying attention to that little French girl? Don't lie, you were charmed, and seeing me with someone else broke your fragile. Little. Heart." 
He was unbelievable for bringing that up again… Y/n felt her rage boiling now. She responded bitterly and slowly. "Please, you are so full of yourself…. And of course you would know all about women and their sexuality, now wouldn't you"
"Hard to scorn someone for being likeable, isn't it, Grumpy?"
Y/n had to stop her horse fully and glare at the idiot. She looked deep into his eyes, calmed down and began to smile. She was in complete and utter disbelief. She shook her head and giggled a peal of bitter laughter. Harry’s face darkened in irritation. 
“What’s so funny, huh?”
Y/n’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as her giggles quelled. "It's funny that you think you are likable, Harry. You see, there is a difference between being desirable, and being easy. And it’s only the thoughtless ones like you who seem to be incapable at telling the difference. Not a thought behind those eyes, is there?... I wouldn't be surprised if you'd thought with your cock so much that your brain had atrophied due to the lack of use. You're not likeable, Harry Styles... you're just a plaything for widows and repressed virgins who wish to piss off their fathers to use and discard. And I cannot help but feel sorry for you for being the only one who cannot see that."
If she was not mistaken, Y/n believed she saw a bit of surprise and possibly even hurt in his eyes before they hardened, their playfulness completely drained. She did not think she was going to say that at all, and in any other situation, she would have thought that to be such a mean thing to say... But she had been sitting on that for far too long, and he had pushed her over with the teasing and the cockiness. She had had enough. Harry Styles needed to be brought down a peg or two.
They stared each other down fiercely, neither wanting to stand down. Then, he quickly shot at her. "You are nothing but a poor virgin with a gabby mouth that you wish was stuffed with my cock." he spat with nothing but poisoned malice.
Ouch… He was trying to catch her off guard, an attempt to garner some pride back, and while it immediately hurt Y/n, the wound of embarrassment growing in her heart, she knew she could not let him win. She quickly locked and loaded, before pulling the trigger without thinking. 
"And you are nothing but a dirty harlot who wastes his privilege of manhood on being a tart to women who don't even want him." she spat back at him. 
Targets acquired and shots fired, the two needed to go home and lick their wounds, crudely bandage their bullet holes and hope the sharp pain of the words spoken were only a temporary detriment to their own health, but an everlasting hellscape to each other. Both wanted to see the other in pain. Both wanted to win.
So with that, Harry made a big show about rearing his ashy grey horse up and around, before both of them spurred their horses forward into a gallop and away from the other- both carrying furrowed eyebrows, slightly hurt feelings (that they would never admit to), and a newfound degree of ire for each other…
He won’t get away with this.
********
Once tacking up Flynn, Y/n stomped her way to the house, still unbelievably enraged by the verbal warfare engaged with that brunette ass. She knew she wanted some alone time to calm down, but once entering her cosy home, she was bombarded with questions from her sisters- mainly Ula.
“Was the house big?!”
“What kind of dress was Ophelia wearing?!”
“How many servants did she have?!”
“Did she have lots of paintings on the walls?!”
“Any handsome sons?!”
“Did she tell you if she’s been to any exotic places like France or Switzerland?!”
“How was your day, Y/n?”
The last question was asked, of course, by her angelic sister Safia. Y/n lovingly rolled her eyes at the incessant questions from Ula and answered Saf’s tenderly. “My day was alright Saf, thank you for asking.”
“That’s good- I wished hard on all the dandelions I could find outside that you would come home safe and sound.” Y/n’s heart melted- she walked over to the younger girl and kissed her forehead with so much love and passion.
Ula observed the tenderness of the exchange and rolled her eyes. “Safia is perfect”, she taunted with a roll of her eyes before returning to her previous exercise of pulling up on the septum of her apparently “hideous” small aquiline nose to shape it into a more button nose, which she believed to be more elegant. Y/n looked back at Saf and whispered lovingly in her ear.
“Never stop wishing for the people you love the most, okay Saf?” Y/n gave her one more kiss before moving to the youngest sister with the most spunk besides Y/n herself. She gently swatted her hand away from her nose before lovingly stroking the bridge as she pulled Ula in for a hug from behind.
“And you, little missy! Stop trifling with the features your parents so lovingly passed to you. That nose isn’t a curse, it’s a gift. Treat it as one.” She kissed Ula’s head too before heading further into the house to greet her older sister and her mother. But as they had dinner, Y/n could not stop thinking about how much she hated Harry… little did she know, however, that her older sister Liz observed her suspiciously throughout the night.
Once in their room, hair and teeth brushed, dressed in their respective pyjamas- Liz’s a dainty white nightgown akin to the one Harry so scandalously described, and Y/n’s a mismatched patchwork buttoned set that Ma had made out of Y/n’s old clothes that she was too big to fit into, yet could bear to part with. Tucked into their beds, Liz turned to face Y/n and began.
“If Ms Ophelia was so very nice, what is the problem?”
Y/n turned to face her with furrowed brows. “What problem? There is no problem”
Liz rolled her eyes and shot back. “Yeah yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, Y/n. You can fool Ula- which isn’t saying much, but you can't fool me, so why don't we pretend like I tirelessly needled it out of you and you skip to the bit where you tell me what’s wrong”
Y/n sighed a long, hard, tired and frustrated sigh, before ultimately giving in. “I ran into a sworn enemy on the ride back home today…”
Liz shot up, eyes wide and mouth agape.“Who?!?”
“Harry Styles.”
Elizabeth stared incredulously at her sister, propped her pillows so she was sitting up, and began needling Y/n for more information. “What did he say? What did he do? Why is he your enemy?”
Y/n sighed. There was no way she was going to get to sleep until she told Liz everything. So she began…“You know of his reputation, yes?”
Y/n’s older sister gasped again. “Y/n… don’t tell me… he… with you?”
Y/n immediately understood what she was insinuating. “NO! No way! Never! Not in a million years! You know I hate everything to do with boys. I cannot believe you would think that of me!”
Liz sighed and sunk into herself in relief. “Thank god! I didn’t think you would but… unfortunately his reputation is quite… damning to say the least. Why, it was only last week he was with Amelie… did you see the way he returned her to the group? He didn’t even bother to wipe her lipstick from his lips! What a brute!”
Y/n brought her blanket up even closer to her face until only her eyes were visible, and mumbled her confession. “I know… I told him exactly so today…”
The older sister slowly started at her, tone changing completely to one low and testing. “What...That he is a brute?”
“Yes of course!” Y/n immediately shot back, exasperated.
Her sister stared at her with her mouth agape and eyebrows intensely furrowed. “...WHY?! Haven’t you heard of his family?!?” At Y/n’s confused face and shaking head, Liz took a deep breath and began. His father lives all the way in New York… Ma told me it was because he was absolutely dreadful to his wife and Harry all the time. Kept money from them, abused them, hit them- so much so that eventually they had to run away from him when he was only 10. They fled to a safe place- some cottage in the middle of nowhere? But get this- once there, his mother contracted scarlet fever and passed away. He had to walk all by himself to the nearest village to call for help- by the time medical assistance arrived, his mother was long gone. And with no other relatives bar his wicked father, he was left in the care of his devilishly deviant, yet disgustingly rich aunt.”
Y/n went completely silent. She didn’t know any of this… Of course this was deeply traumatic and saddening- but Y/n could not help it- her stubbornness was a curse, not a gift. And the curse would not allow even a tale so sorrowful allow Harry a free pass. 
“Liz- of course this is deeply tragic and traumatic- however, circumstances can only explain actions. They don’t justify them. What has happened to Harry should mean that he spends his time helping women, not putting them down… which, I guess he does by pleasuring them, but God I wish he wasn’t so smug and pompous about it… He was so- well, not nice, but normal and cheeky and charming, when we first met- it was like a switch flicked in his head and that man no longer exists”
“Of course- if he is as cruel as you say, I 100% agree. Although he has a right to hold trauma, it does not change the fact that he is but a wicked man”
The girls sit in silence for a second, contemplating. Then, ever the know it all, Liz jumped right back into her Styles Family History Lesson, giving Y/n the run down. 
“But anyways, his aunt is apparently a very influential figure! She’s rich beyond belief, and could probably control this entire town with the pulling of some strings and some money, which she most definitely has! Do not fool around with them, Y/n… especially not Harry…” Elizabeth brought her hands up to her temples to sate her sudden headache, a frequent occurrence when having to feel stressed for Y/n whenever she inevitably threw herself into apparently unacceptable situations, such as whistling in public or not wearing gloves, and had no apparent regard for the consequences. 
“What am I to do then?! He is my sworn enemy- if I see him in my general vicinity, my whole body and soul tells me to rip him to shreds! How am I supposed to see him at balls, and on random walks back home, and NOT rip my hair out of my head?!” Y/n complained with a whiny tone.
“Avoid him! Completely and utterly avoid him”
Y/n harrumphed. “...Fine…”
“Good idea- I know… plus… you know what they say.” A lilt of cheekiness entered the previously stern tone. 
“What?”
A wide smile grew on Y/n’s older sister’s face, unable to hide her amusement. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Who knows- maybe he just fancies you? You know… like likes you” 
Y/n immediately threw a spare pillow at her sister’s head and groaned, before burying her hot face under the covers, completely and utterly embarrassed. Elizabeth dodged the stray pillow as she laughed raucously at how annoyed her sister became. 
Y/n shook her head vehemently. “Never in a million years, Liz…”
Never in a million years…
*********
“Make sure you avoid making the “Z” look like the number “three”. Remember, small angled curl, then draaaaaag down to make a bigger and longer angled curl. Other than that, Ophelia, I must inform you that unfortunately my work may as well be over… because these have to be some of the best cursive letters I have ever seen- I know that I have only ever taught my younger sisters, but I am nothing short of confident that you are the fastest learner I have ever had, ever!” 
Ophelia put her hand up to her chest and let out an exasperated breathy laugh that combined a giggle and a sigh of relief. “Stop it Y/n… you nearly gave me a heart attack! Anyways, it’s not that great.” She emphatically waved her hand as if to physically shoo the thought away. “I believe that as long as I am able to write and read, who cares about the blasted handwriting. As long as it is- at the very least- legible, I don't mind a thing.”
Y/n could not emphasise this enough: she loved Ophelia. She was sweet, funny, sarcastic, naughty and brash enough to understand all of Y/n’s jokes as simply that- jokes with no malice. Y/n admired her face thoroughly in amazed silence. Ophelia glanced at her and continued. “Now, would you like a cup of tea before you go?”
Y/n was shaken out of her trance and began to pack up her books as she responded. “No, thank you. I'm okay- I really should get going though. The wind is picking up and as much as I would love to stay and chat, I don’t really think being cold and wet is how my mother wants me to return home!”
Y/n bids Ophelia farewell from inside the house before going out back to meet Flynn at the stables. However, she sees another figure tending to him, and as she arrives closer, she notices not Thomas’ blonde messy hair- but instead a soft brown colour. 
Jesus Christ, this guy will just not leave her alone, will he?!
Y/n is about three feet away when the figure finally turns, and she is once again met with the cheeky smirk of Mr Harlot Styles. He looks her up and down carefully, making her insides all squirmy under his inspection- she hated the way he made her feel so uncomfortable in her own skin. Once finding her eyes, he began. 
“Grumpy…”
“Harlot… Leave Flynn alone. He doesn’t like jaded asses.” Y/n crossed her hands over her chest and stood with a cold hard stare.
“Flynn? Pretty name.” Harry looked at Flynn and continued. “Does the angry little lady dump her frivolous complaints and girly problems onto your poor back, my friend?” Harry looked back to Y/n and continued. “ And hey, he might hate jaded asses, but apparently, he loves temper tantrum-throwing toddlers if he’s your horse.” 
If she didn’t know how horrible of a person he was, she would classify the way he was scratching Flynn’s chin as lovingly- but Harry wasn’t loving, and he certainly wasn’t capable of loving. He was a beast. Just another man who thought Y/n spent her hours with her equine companion complaining as if juvenile… and what the hell are “girly problems”?! 
Harry chimed in again, breaking her out of her frustrated train of thought. “Huh! Would you look at that, Grumpy- your jaded ass-hating “noble” steed’s loyalty can unfortunately be bought by absolute strangers!”
He smirks up at her as he pulls a sugar cube from his pocket and holds it out to Flynn, who eagerly licks it up, jutting his snout into Harry’s hand to spur some more pats out of him. Y/n let out an angry huff. “Greedy traitor…” she mumbled under her breath to her horse, before taking a deep breath and got straight to the main issue, not wanting to spend any longer talking to him than she had to. 
“What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”
“God, I was just wondering when I would be in your lovely company again- you know- should I call a doctor for your hysteria? Because it is you, girly, who is consistently following me. I would be surprised due to your incessant reminders that you hate me, but I’m not. Your infatuation with me seeps through your shoddy disguise completely. Face it, Grumpy… you’re obsessed with me.” 
Y/n wanted to slap him so hard. Or at least shoot back some equally damning response, but Liz’s words echo in her ears to simply ignore him. So she simply comes closer, walking to the opposite side of Flynn and begins strapping her bag to Flynn’s side saddle pouch. 
“Your silence is deafening, Grumpy… Is this it? Are you finally admitting that you have been just another precious little schoolgirl obsessed with me this whole time? I bet you would look out your window and pray to every shooting star that floated by that you would see me again. Did you giggle with your little friends while braiding each other's hair about how much you want me? I bet you squirm under your covers in a little pure white virginal nightgown dreaming about my fingers and my tongue and my cock. I bet you're stupidly in love with me, huh Grumpy?”
Y/n hated the way he would describe typically feminine stereotypes with such condescension. She hated being treated like a little girl. Throwing Liz’s advice completely out the window, she couldn’t help but mumble under her breath- just a little something to hurt him. “What would you know about love, Daddy’s boy?…” 
If Y/n looked up from the saddle pouch she was working on, she would see Harry’s eyes blown wide with surprise. He looked so vulnerable- almost childlike- as if her comment transported him back to his father’s house. Before she noticed his silence, though, he schooled his face and began to round the horse, his eyes darkening. “And what would you know about anything? You’re just a pathetic little girl. You act as if you have experience with the world, as if you will be anything more than a boring old housewife, but you never will be…”
Y/n stared daggers into Harry as he stalked closer and closer until he was less than a foot away from her, their outerwear brushing against each other. If he simply wrapped his arms around her waist, their bodies would be flush against one another completely. Y/n had never felt so degraded. She was just another girl to him. She was just another girl to all other men. Her biggest fear was being forgotten- for her loving family- her creative sisters and amazing mother- to be forgotten… For all of the amazing women that she encountered at balls to be forgotten. To be married off and treated as property. 
Harry continues on his poisonous tirade in an unwavering cold and calm voice, striking the deepest of Y/n’s insecurities and fears with pinpoint accuracy. “You look down on my hobby of pleasuring married women, but what you don’t understand is that when you are unhappily married off within the next few years, you will be writing letters to me, begging me to relieve you. You will wish I wanted you… You will wish your husband wanted you… You will wish any man wanted you… You will wish you were special… But you're not.”
Y/n held her breath as his hands raised up from his sides, ringed fingers lightly trailing over her skirts, her waist, her arms, her shoulders. Higher and higher, they softly glided over the fabric of her puff sleeves, before reaching her face, and cupping her cheeks. Harry’s eyes slowly flitted back and forth between Y/n’s eyes and her lips. His brows furrowed and his mouth slightly opened, before lifting his right thumb to slowly pull down at her bottom lip... 
…then release the pressure created with his hold, watching- almost studying, its fullness intensely as it bounced back into place. Voice now barely above a whisper, rumbly and deep, he continues.
“You’re just another silly little girl who will be nothing but a wife someday.”
Harry’s hands moved from her cheeks to her neck, cupping her head, thumbs delicately tracing circles on the skin behind her ears, sending shivers up her spine. 
What was this? And why was it sending Y/n’s knees wobbly? She needs to snap out of it- remember her anger for him. All of her interactions with him, even this one, were merely strategies to throw her off- to dominate her. And she would not allow that.
So as Harry moved his hand to cup her neck, leaning in closer, she opened her mouth, ready to dismiss all logic and decimate the animal standing before her, attempting to kiss her just to intimidate her. Fuck everything- fuck him, fuck Liz’s advice, fuck men and their incessant need for girls to be prim and proper. Fuck all of them.
About to fire her biggest blow, all while he leaned closer and closer, his lips ever so close to touching hers, they were suddenly halted in their tracks by someone calling her name.
“Y/n!...” the voice was urgent but far away. Both Harry and Y/n looked out of the stable to see Ophelia running towards them. Y/n and Harry looked at each other and took a big step away from their close proximity as Ophelia finally reached the stables and held her hand on a wooden panel as she caught her breath, panting heavily. 
“Th-Thank-” A wheezy heave interjected her sentence. “GOD”. Another heave. “You hadn’t left yet!” She stood up straight and wiped the light sweat from her forehead with her wrist before straightening her back and walking closer to her. She raised her right hand, which held a small handkerchief, tied into a lovely little package. 
“I packed some hedgehog slice for you in case you get a little hungry on the way home!” She sighed exasperated, before looking between Y/n and Harry. 
Y/n’s heart melted a little- she came bounding all the way down just to give her a little snack? She was the sweetest woman in the world! And now Y/n was going to see her in action against the intruder to her property that was Harry Styles… Y/n was ready to see some ire and some spit hurled at him once she explained exactly what Harry had said about her and all womankind, really.
But that is not what happened.
Not at all.
Ophelia smiled warmly at Harry before looking at Y/n. “Ahh, I see you have already met my nephew, Harry!”
What. The. Hell?
Harry looked smug as anything as Ophelia continued. “He is the lovely, well articulated bookworm I was telling you about the other day!” 
Y/n gritted out a very hesitant “Nice to meet you…” as he looked at her, full of ego.
Harry then opened his mouth, presumably to tell his aunt about the intrusion that was Y/n’s presence on their land, but Ophelia quickly shut him up too. 
“And Harry, this is the bright and wonderful tutor and friend I was telling you about! Y/n is teaching me how to read and write!” 
Harry’s mouth shut immediately. It was Y/n’s turn to smirk smugly as he gritted out an “A pleasure to meet you” back. The two stared at each other steely, as if they were in a stand-off of the mind, all while Ophelia unknowingly watched on with a large smile. 
“I am sure you too will be fast friends! Don’t you agree?” Ophelia had so much hope in her voice. The two grit their teeth, not wanting to make a scene or displease the sweet Ophelia-
“Certainly…”, they manage to comment, in unison.
And after Ophelia hugs Y/n goodbye one more time, before turning and leaving, Harry tails after her, but not before giving a final glance back to Y/n. He smirked, the smile filled with boyish playfulness, but Y/n saw his eyes- those blasted green eyes clouded with taunt. He was challenging her. To what exactly- she didn’t know. To see who could hurt each other the most? To see who would win in the overall war between the two? Or was it just a smirk at her begrudging fate? That she would have to put up with him now because although Ophelia is a sweet woman, Y/n’s connection to her will never trump Harry’s- he’s her nephew. 
As Y/n saddled her was going to have to do what she wanted to the least in order to maintain both a professional and personal relationship with Ophelia, who she admired both as a student and as a friend…
She was going to have to be civil with Harry.
**********
Y/n believed wholeheartedly that it was punishment enough; that she was forced into both proximity and (at least) faux politeness with her sworn enemy- but evidently, fate had more to give. And damn, could it pack a punch!
It was almost silly that she hadn’t thought the universe had been through with her… When Y/n made the one-hour trip to Ophelia’s house, she just had to not bring her large, rainproof jacket. She just had to decide not to put Flynn’s horseshoes on, which would prevent him from slipping and sliding in the wet mud… Why would she do any of that?! It was perfectly sunny, and even a little bit warm on that Friday morning…
But no… of course, the moment she begins to wrap up her lesson with Ophelia and ride home- where she would tuck into a well-deserved late lunch and spend some time with sisters- of course it is only two days after she has discovered that her student raised and lived with her sworn enemy- it is then and only then that she finds herself stuck at their house, as a giant thunderstorm magically appears and begins raining hellish hail and pouring water from the sky. 
“Y/n, there is no way I am letting you ride home in this weather! That simply will not happen under my roof. I will send an urgent telegram to your mother to let her know you are safe and warm, but you are staying over for the night and that is final.”
There was no arguing with Ophelia. So no more than five minutes later, Y/n was being escorted through the maze that was her student’s mansion, and to a guest room she would be occupying for the night. She was sprawled on the giant, fluffy bed when she felt her skin crawl at a particular thought- though he had not appeared during her lesson, Y/n knew that Harry was somewhere in the house- Ophelia said so herself, as they walked to her room. What if they bumped into one another? 
“Harry is somewhere around here- I am sure that you two will be the bestest of friends- you have so much in common!”
Y/n had to awkwardly laugh and smile at that, agreeing as politely as possible so as to not arouse any suspicion- however, Ophelia seemed to take this for genuine interest though and began doubling down. 
“Hey, why wait until dinner- I can call him now!? Maybe Harry can give you a tour of the house- the gardens, the gallery, the library! Give me two seconds and let me go fetch him-” 
Y/n had never had such a visceral reaction in her life when she shouted a clear and desperate “NO!”... It took her a few seconds to recollect her thoughts before she attempted to save face; she halfheartedly dismissed the idea with a feeble excuse that she didn’t want to impose, and that she and Harry would have plenty of time to chat at dinner. Despite the suspicious glint in Ophelia’s eye, she did not press any further and left her to rest and unpack as she went to have a bath and take a relaxing nap before supper. 
Thus bringing us back to Y/n- sprawled on her bed, deciding that she would not leave the room until supper. There was no way she would risk bumping into Harry while wandering around his house. What if he had another sultry guest for the evening?! What if he shooed her off as if she was nothing but a fly?! Heaven knows he had done all of that before- and all on the same night! She began rummaging through her bag to retrieve her book, content on sitting down and reading as she waited for dinner, but as she rummaged, it dawned on her… 
Her novels, her personal pens and paper? All of them were either at home or in Flynn’s side saddle pouch, hanging in the stables- she had been carrying her personal books and papers for the past few lessons but found the weight quite heavy, and all for very little payoff- she rarely got a moment to read when she was in the middle of a very interactive, collaborative lesson. The reality of her situation collapsed on her as she brought her hands up to her face and let a frustrated groan into them- she was going to be stuck here in this room with no entertainment for the next four hours - Ophelia was occupied, her books and pens were with Flynn, and there were no reading materials in the beautiful yet empty chest of drawers and side tables of the elegant guest room.
There was no way she could sit quietly like this… She began to get cabin feverish already. She needed to get out… 
Harry wouldn’t be strolling about his own house, right? It was 2:30 pm on a Friday- surely there must be some work he had to complete? Y/n resolved that there was no way she would be able to continue to live if she didn’t have something to stimulate her mind, and the thought of passing up an opportunity to explore the various forms of entertainment in Ophelia’s vast house seems daft, even verging on sinful… 
So, with a deep breath, Y/n stretched her arms above her head, took a deep breath, and lifted herself off of the plush linen-covered mattress. She ever so slowly opened the heavy, beautifully intricate mahogany door and peeked out of the minuscule crack she created. 
Left, right, left again, right again. 
The coast seemed to be clear- she opened the door wider so that she could stick her whole head out of it. She looked left, right, left again, right again. You could say that she was maybe overreacting by being so very cautious, but she would rather not run into Harry and be forced to return to her room before she had acquired some entertainment and had a good look around the place.
Once she was completely sure that the coast was clear, she stepped out, gently closed the door behind her, and, with her hands behind her back, began to stroll the hallways curiously. Soon, her fascination with the grandeur of the mansion quelled her alertness and she found herself enamoured by the architecture as she walked down the hallways. 
She wished she could dip her head into every room she saw, but she wasn’t that daft- that would be one surefire way to overstep her welcome, especially when she was essentially stuck until the storm cleared up. 
She continued slinking around in a manner similar to Fennec’s- she took a right, and found herself walking down a hallway she would guess was near the back of the house, as the large windows to her left illuminated her pathway and showcased a beautiful array of pruned trees along a cobblestone path, with steps that led down to a beautiful, large pond filled with greenery. There was a small path that also winded around the pond and ventured into a beautiful, lush green forest. The rain pattered so beautifully onto the glass, creating beautiful shadows on the otherwise dim hallway. The house truly was magnificent. 
Once reaching the end of the hallway, Y/n was greeted with two very tall and wide arched wooden doors. She hoped and prayed she wasn’t about to walk into a personal room, before pushing in to peek at the contents. 
A large expanse of beautiful oak shelves befell her- filled to the brim with books. Books upon books upon books! Nestled so tenderly, they were wrapped in beautiful leather casings. 
Bingo! The infamous library!
Though there was a main seating area in the middle of the room- with comfy juniper green couches that looked a dream to rest upon, there were also many bay windows and little reading nooks to curl up in. Tucked into the corner was a desk, a chair and a reading lamp. In fact, there were lamps all around the room, however, most of the light came from the warm roaring fire that blazed in the fireplace. Y/n could imagine sitting in front of the fire on a pillow, a soft throw around her and a mug of tea between her crossed legs as she read Dickens. 
Y/n wove through each shelf, looking at all the amazing titles there were. There was everything here! Shakespeare and Dickens were classics, to be expected in most regal libraries, but looking closer, Y/n found Bronte and Austen too! Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Hans Christen Anderson’s fairy tales. This place had every book Y/n had ever read or wished to read! 
But something lingered in the back of Y/n’s mind…
If Ophelia cannot read, whose library is this? Who has so tenderly placed every book in alphabetical order, as well as sorted them by genre? Who has spent their time tediously gluing library cards to the inside of the back cover of seemingly every book, and has jotted down when they have been borrowed? Why would anyone ever do that, considering that most of them are read by assumedly the same person, judging by the ever so similar font and pen used to log the date of when the book was picked up and when it was finished?
Before she could finish her thought, the door suddenly opened. Y/n immediately cringed at the situation she was in- she could be caught snooping by Ophelia, oh how mortifying! As the heavy footsteps walked closer and closer to where she was, she weaved through shelves, attempting to find a spot to hide. She tiptoed through before flattening herself against a shelf at the end of the room, far from where the footsteps were heard. The unknown person’s gait was too heavy to be Ophelia’s and- 
Damn! 
If it was not Ophelia, there was only one other person it could be… 
She took a deep, silent breath before creeping her way to the edge of the bookshelf. She went to take a peek and see where the British bastard was, however, when she took one more step and stuck her head out, she was met with his body no more than five inches from hers. 
“AHH!”
“Shit!”
The pair jumped and shrieked for a quick second, not expecting the other to be so damn close. Y/n looked up to see Harry looked down at her with surprise and confusion. Her gaze panned down to his hands, noticing him carrying a brown leather bound book- it was smaller and very worn in. It looked beaten and bruised, like it had been read thousands of times. She couldn't see a title at all, but it wouldn’t matter- the moment he followed her eyes, Harry shoved the book behind his back. Her gaze snapped back up quickly enough to watch vulnerability flash in his eyes, before they set in his usual hardened gaze, infected with scorn.
He barked. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
This wasn’t nonchalant Harry- this wasn't a Harry that was prepared for her attacks. This wasn’t the Harry that used his suave and unaffected demeanour to torment Y/n as he coolly fired shot after shot at her soul. No, this was a more frantic Harry- a more aggressive, threatened Harry. 
“I didn’t know you were going to be here!” Y/n explained, her brows furrowing and taking on a defensive tone, hands flying emphatically. 
Harry did not reply at all. The pair stared at each other sharply. It was as if they were having a battle telepathically, staring deep into one another’s unwavering, unblinking eyes, lips pressed shut into little frowns, brows knit, each daring the other to say something more. To poke the bear more. To continue the fight. They stared and they stared until Harry looked her up and down, shaking his head and scoffing, before walking further into the library. 
He seceded first! HA! She won! 
This victory wasn't savoured for long, however- she soon realised how foolish she would look just standing there in Harry’s dust. She didn’t look back to see which way he went and she didn't care- she kicked her body into motion and strode out the front door. Once she was out, however, she pathetically scurried her way back to her room, mortified. Once through the door, she slammed it shut and laid back against the cool wood. She took a couple deep breaths in the safety of the guest room. Now alone, she was able to regain her ability to think.
Harry was holding a book in his hands, before shoving it behind his back? Was he… bashful? What book would have made Harry feel embarrassed?
Further, if it wasn’t Ophelia’s library, there realistically is only one other person it could belong to…
Y/n shook the idea from her head immediately. It definitely couldn’t be Harry’s- not only was he too brutish to read for leisure, but also, the books there were too beautiful, too tenderly cared for- many filled with little annotations. No, Harry could not treat a human decently, let alone a book. He wouldn’t know how! The one in his hand, however. Her heart just couldn’t let that go… 
Maybe that was his? The small, beaten and bruised book. What kind of text would prompt Harry to read it over and over and over again. What words moved him so much that he felt embarrassed to show Y/n. Ofcourse, this was probably for the best- realistically, the pair should both provide as little information of their identities to each other as possible. Less ammunition that way. 
But Y/n, head against the downy pillow filled to the brim with the softest stuffing, lulled by the gentle nose of the lavender oil spritzed on top of the sheets, could not help but innocently wonder if Harry had a favourite book. She always wanted someone to share her love of reading- a simple friend that she could rant and rave to other than her sisters who, despite not possessing the same fire and passion as Y/n when it came to literature, attempted their hardest to understand her speeches and monologues of theory. 
It was not a question- Harry could never be that friend to Y/n…
But God, did Y/n wish that stopped her from imagining a version of him that could be.
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nexi11tarot · 10 months
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What do people think of you?
Reminder that I sell personal readings for an affordable price, my dms are open.
Masterlist
Today's reading explores what people think of you whether good or bad, reminder this is a general reading so don't force anything to resonate if you dont feel it does <3 here's the pics to choose from:
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Pile one
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What people think of you-
King of wands reversed, 4 of swords reversed, saturn in scorpio
People see you as a visionary with aspirations bigger than your means, there are people (or even just one person) in your life who thinks you are unrealistic and overly ambitious. They see you as someone who needs to "manage their expectations" when it comes to what you can accomplish and get in life. I like this about you though, your aspirations should be so big that others are intimidated. As long as you have the motivation and attitude to actually make shit happen, you can achieve more than you realize. I also sense that people think you're burntout or tired and that you need to give things a break so that you can actually have the enrgy to achieve what you want. They feel you go all in on things and burn yourself out before seeing results. There's an energy here where people feel that you could accomplish so much with your life if you had the patience and discipline, they feel that if you developed more long term commitments and stick to what you start that you can make alot of success for yourself. Going back with the first message about you being too ambitious, this may be beacuse people know how you are and that you don't always reach your full potiental. They see you and your aspirations, goals and desires and feel that if only you stuck to it you would actually reach it. They feel that if you developed more self discipline and responsibility then you would be unstoppable. But I a sense you are already unstoppable, you just need to be realistic and disciplined when it comes to completing goals. You're someone who doesn't like to start small or create small goals to reach, you're someone who has a hard time feeling proud of themselves when they reach a small milestone. You need to unlearn that because a big part of completing goals is about the tiny milestones in between. You can skip to the finish line, it won't be as satisfying
Pile two
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What people think of you
Page of pentacles reversed, the high priestess, Venus in capricorn
I feel like people don't understand why you do what you do, but internally you follow your instincts and emotions. Theres an energy of soneone or some people who feel you aren't doing what you should be doing to progress or become financially stable, but they don't understand where you feel guided and that you're simply trusting yourself. Someone thinks you should be doing other things and spend your time more usefully, but again you list to yourself, you honor your instincts even if others don't understand. And that's more appreciated than you think. (Sidenote that may not resonate with everyone) Some of you are in a relationship with an older person and people think it's a waste of time for you, others of you are attracted to older men and others don't understand that lol)
Regardless, I'm seeing you're the type of person who is private and not open about your ambitions, you keep it to yourself because you want to rely on your own intution and not the asvice of others. People see you as a very classical beauty as well, that your beauty reminds them of an different time or era, and that you're a timeless masterpiece. You may enjoy classical art or music, and your may have a very eye catching style that is either vintage or has alot of neutrals. You come off as very serious and hard to read to some people but beneath that you have a very good sense of humor
Pile three
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What people think of you
The hermit and two of wands both reversed, moon in pisces
People see you as someone who avoids choice or someone who avoids taking indefinite action because you're afraid to move forward with certainy, you dont give the impression that you trust yourself. The abundance of possibilities and choices is overheleming because you overthink every scenario. You may dissociate alot. You are seen as someone who is resistant to leave their comfort zone or to come out of their shell. I think you are this way because emotionally you have a almost psyhcic awareness of the emotions of others, you may like to be lowkey because you can be easily overwhelmed. You are a good listener, you're extremely understanding and empathetic and people see this about you. But that moon in pisces card still points to escapism and wanting to withdraw instead of facing the reality and situation at hand. People see you as someone who needs to stop relying on their inner world and solitude because you are sacrificing your freedom by doing that. They see you as someone who needs to come back to the present moment and out of your escapism tendencies. You may often disappear unintentionally to rejuvenate and become difficult to reach. You recover from being overwhelmed by daydreaming, solitude, maladaprive daydreaming or dissociation. You overthink choices and end up avoiding thise choices as a whole out of fear. People see you as someone who needs to become more sure and certain of themselves so that they can come out of their shell
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leahrintarou · 6 months
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☠︎︎ DAY TWENTY-FIVE: TOUCH STARVED FT. OIKAWA
☠︎︎ WARNINGS: y/n is needy, oikawa is a shitty tease, one-sided pleasure, sleepy stuff, fem reader, he's kinda ooc lol
☠︎︎ WORD COUNT: 1.3k
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"toru, are you still awake?"
y/n tilted her chin up slightly, allowing her to shift her gaze from his chest and instead, to his tired features. she'd noticed how the small caressing action's of oikawa's hands against her lower back had stopped for a minute too long.
"mhm" he hummed, low eyes slightly opening after y/n placed a small kiss onto his neck. "aren't you tired yet?" he asked, noticing how her eyes were filled with anything but exhaustion. she shook her head, making oikawa loosen the hold in which he had around her waist. y/n pulled herself closer to oikawa as her leg rested over his own. "n/n"
if they were under any other circumstance, oikawa would be glad to aid y/n in her current state of neediness but as if for right now, he was already struggling to keep his eyes from shutting due to the busyness that took place earlier that day. she placed more kisses against his neck, desperately trying to initiate some sort of intimacy to provoke her lover.
"toru"
"n/n, i'm tired. go to sleep"
a small frown formed onto her lips when oikawa showed no interest into her affection at all. he couldn't blame her much though. after all, the two hadn't had time for each other for the past two weeks. each time they'd tried to spend quality time together, it would always get interrupted by literally anything and everything. "please". her voice resulted as a whisper, afraid that if the volume was increased by even the smallest amount, it'll take away the rest of oikawa's patience.
"tomorrow. you can wait until then, right?"
"you have early practice tomorrow and if it's like any of the ones from this week, you won't be back until late" she reminded. he let out a groan and the hoarseness caused by his exhaustion was quite noticeable. "toru" she mumbled, making him roll onto his back out of annoyance. she only made swift movements to straddle his waist before leaning down and resting her chin on his chest to meet his gaze.
oikawa's hand lazily moved up and under the fabric of her shirt, before resting against the warmth of her lower back. "we haven't done anything together in an entire two weeks" oikawa noticed her desperate expression and couldn't help but muster up his small amount of energy so the both of them could finally get some rest. "you're so fucking needy, n/ n" y/n smiled at oikawa's words that signified him giving in to her small and non-innocent intentions. "it's what you signed up for"
oikawa rolled his eyes before pulling y/n down, closer to his face to place a rough kiss against her lips. "use me as you wish" he mumbled, receiving a confused look from y/n. he managed to allow a smirk to creep onto his lips when y/ n murmured a few annoyed curses. "i told you i was tired and you're the one being needy. i dont have the energy to actually fuck y-"
"toru, i got it the first time" y/n interrupted and finally leaned up, hooking her index and middle fingers in the hem of his sweat pants before pulling it down to expose his semi aroused erection. "i thought you were too tired?" she asked, noticing his evident interest from the whole situation. "you've been grinding against me ever since you decided to sit on my lap. i couldn't help it"
y/n's eye's slightly widened since she wasn't even aware of her own movements. she was soon snapped out of her partial daze once oikawa tapped her leg, urging her to carry on so he can attempt to fall back into his slumber as soon as possible. y/n swiftly removed her pants, along with her underwear before returning back to her previous position, now straddling his unclothed erection.
she noticed how he was more aroused than before, making her smile at the fact and continuing her acknowledged grinding motions. oikawa let out a sigh, syncing his sounds with the moan that erupted from y/n. the evidence of her arousal coating him entirely when the sudden pleasure was finally being received. oikawa couldn't help but keeps his eyes on y/n's hazed expression.
she finally guided her hand to grip oikawa's length, to slide himself into her sex. a moan was drawn out, when she finally felt a sensation of relieving pleasure. oikawa placed his hands on y/n's hips, and with a firm grip, he guided her to grind against him. she leaned down, pressing her face into to crook of his neck to hide her expression's and pleasured noises. "feel better?" he asked. y/n moaned a small hum before nodding at his question.
oikawa knew how long y/n had been waiting for his touch. ever since yesterday, her eye's would take longer glances at each part of his body, no matter what it was that he was doing. he couldn't blame her though. he too, wanted to initiate some kind of intimate moment with y/n but due to his tied up schedule, he just never got the chance. but now that he did, he noticed how y/n's entire body reacted differently to his touch.
the way her hips rose, before falling back down to meet his own, extracting a whine each time she did so, oikawa was somewhat thankful that he gave into her acts of begging. as y/n only continued to lift her hips and grind against oikawa's lower abdomen, her moans began to raise at a higher volume. he let out small sighs with each stroke before tapping y/n's shoulder so she'd raise her head from its spacing in the crook of his neck. he leaning up, placing a kiss to her lips, not expecting her to lean into it with such greed.
the messiness of their lips, was an evident sign that y/n most likely wouldn't last for too long, she rarely did it times like this. if oikawa wanted her to, they could last hours but as if for right now, all he wanted was to please her so they'd be able to finally relax. whispers of his name fell from y/n's lips, signifying her built up pleasure that was finally going to break. it was a brief moment but neither of them actually cared. especially on a night where all y/n wanted to do was meet her peak and oikawa only wanted the exact same.
his hand wondered to her sex, his thumb making it's way to her bud to rub small circles against the area. with a couple last drawn out moans, y/ n finally reached her peak as her legs shutterd in an attempt to receive as much friction as she could. oikawa noticed this and sped up the movements of his thumb as he admired her pleasured expression. her chest rose and fell, panting from the satisfaction. he met with her hazy gaze, slightly raising an eyebrow to ask if she were finished.
with a nod, y/n managed to lift herself off of him before tiredly allowing her head to meet with the pillow, the exhaustion finally creeping up on her. her eyes shifted to oikawa's still evident erection, guilt immediately enveloping her figure. "do you want me to..?" she asked. oikawa shook his head, reassuringly pressing a kiss to her forehead. "it'll go away" he mumbled. "i want to go to sleep and you should too" he draped an arm around her waist, pulling her body closer to his own so she could focus her gaze onto his tired expression instead.
"i'll get home early tomorrow so we can have all the time we need, together"
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beary-rambles · 10 months
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Can I request something like where Ethan is ghostface obviously and the reader is Dewey Riley's adoptive kid and she kinda blames Gale for what happened to her father and that encourages Ethan to put gale up on the list and forward to the reveal where detective bailey wants to shoot the reader and then she admits to being pregnant and that makes Ethan change since he knows he's the father and is spared from death because Sam and Tara saw he was doing what he did just to get his father's approval and they lie to the core 4 saying Ethan wasn't one of the killers because he promised to be better for the sake of his child?
a/n | i am so sorry this took so long 😭 i kinda glossed over the gale part, definitely not my best work
warnings | murder, angst? fluff ending, kind of rushed? not proofread
Sam puts a protective arm in front of you while Bailey and the two ghost faces stare you all down. You spaced out as you felt like you could barely breathe, you didn't want to die. You blocked out whatever Bailey was talking about, whatever long monologue he was giving. When one of the ghostface’s lifts their hands and takes off their mask, you are greeted with a very familiar face. You feel like your heart has dropped further into your stomach, Sam gives you an apologetic look as you fall from your crouched position to the floor.
“Ethan?”
His grin falls once his eyes land on you. Your eyes drop to the floor not even being about to look at him. You feel sick. Ethan has been your boyfriend for a couple months now, you loved him so much and he seemed to love you too but right now you can't seem to think that. You haven't managed to get over your grief until you met him. The loss of your father was a big hit to you. You could barely eat, get out of bed, you barely even finished the school year. You hoped when you moved to new york you could have a fresh-ish start but you couldn't. At Least not until you met ethan. Ethan changed everything for you. He was like a breath of fresh air, he was so comforting, so kind. He was always patience, on the days you didnt want to go out he would sit with you and listen as you droned on and on about your problems. I guess now his weird look whenever you would complain about gale made sense. He wanted to kill her.
In your daze you must miss the commotion because suddenly when you feel hands grip you and drag you up you look around and notice quinn was.. Alive? And a ghostface? What was happening? You thrash around in Baileys arms while sam and tara give you a look of horror. You suddenly feel a cold metal end touch the side of your head. He was holding a gun to your head.
“Nobody move!”
You cant breathe. You didnt want to die.You stop moving and he takes another step back. You finally lock eyes with the one guy you didnt want to. He has an angry look on his face, it must be at you. You can barely believe this is happening.
“I want you to all give her one final look before i kill her!”
“Dont!” Sam begins to take a step forward before bailey presses the head deeper into the side of your head, “Don't move!”
“Please dont kill me…” The tears are running down your face as you shut your eyes.
You open your eyes and look at ethan who had a conflicted look, “Please ethan…”
“Your silly boyfriend cant save you now.”
You dont even listen to quinns voice as you continue to plead with ethan.
“Im pregnant.”
“What?” “Like hell you are?” “Huh?” “I'm supposed to believe that right?”
You dont care what anyone else has to say as you continue to talk to ethan, “I found at a couple days ago. I was gonna tell you later tonight when you came over for our date i promise,”
“Liar!” quinn hisses at you.
“Im not lying!” You yell out as Ethan stands unmoved, his grip on his knife tight, His gaze remaining locked onto yours. “Ethan please.”
Bailey takes another step back and grips you tighter causing you to hiss out in pain, “Ive let you have your talk now shut up.”
“Let her go.”
Ethan glares at his father who rolls his eyes.
“Dont tell me you believe her.”
“Ethan im telling the truth i swear. Believe me please.”
“Let her go.”
Quinn lets out a frustrated sound as ethan takes a step forward, “oh come on ethan dont act like a pussy for this slut, like you would even be the father-”
In a flash ethan is is suddenly behind quinn and grips her sliding his knife along her throat in, bailey in his shock loosens his grip enough where you can slide out of his grip and you rush over to sam who grips onto you.
“you alright?”
you nod and let out a sigh of relief, “yeah yeah”
Ethan and bailey have a stare down, “What have you done! all our work, all our time-”
“All your time! All your work! I never wanted any fo this! All you knew was oh richie this and oh richie that and im sick of it! I didn't even like richie! Nobody did! nobody other than you and your daughter.”
“who was your sister, who you just killed!”
“I wish i did it sooner.”
Tara gives you an odd look, “do you think they realize were still here?” You shrug.
“Youre no son of mine.”
“I never was! but she,” His blood covered knife points in your general direction, “is my life. and i wont let you take her away from me.”
You let out a barely vocal gasp as you stare at ethan in a daze.
Sam puts a hand on your shoulder, “go with tara and find somewhere to hide. something tells me its about to get bad.”
despite the fact you dont want to leave ethan tara is already grabbing your arm and dragged you away. You look back and notice a fight breakong out and gunshots ring. You close your eyes and pray to whoever is listening ethan isn't getting hurt.
You find a safe place farther away with tara and you two crouch together.
“You alright?”
you nod and put your head in your hands, “im alright… I think. You?”
She looks conflicted, “chad…”
“im so sorry tara.”
You place a hand on hers and squeeze it, she gives you a tight lipped smile.
“I should be the one saying sorry to you i mean, youre the pregnant one. If that was real.”
You nod, “it is, i found out a couple days ago. i felt really sick and went to the doctors.”
“How far along you are?”
“12 weeks, found out a little later than most do.”
“holy shit thats fucking crazy.”
Another gun shot rings and you close your eyes.
“God i hope hes okay.”
Tara doesn't reply. just leaning her head back to lay against the wall.
You dont know how much longer passes but it feels like years when the door slams open and a ghostface walks in.
you and tara huddle together and tara grabs a brick that had been on the ground, “stay back you bitch.”
The mask gets ripped off and ethan drops the mask to the ground. His face is covered in sweat and you can see specks of blood everywhere but his remain locked on your figure.
“Ethan.”
He rushes over and drops to his knees, his hands ans eyes frantically checking over you, “are you alright? are you hurt? do you need something a bandage-” you put your hand on his face and smile, “ethan im okay.”
“Was it real? are you really?”
His head drops to your neck as he hugs you, “im sorry im so sorry forgive me.”
Tara noticing sam in the doorway stands and makes her way over to her. Deciding not to comment on her ghostface outfit. “He dead?”
Sam gives a comfirming nod.
“Kirby checked over chad, said if the paramedics arrive soon enough he can be saved.”
Sam smiled as taras eyes light, “really?”
Sam nods, taras face drops as she turns back to look at ethan who was still fusing over you.
“What are we gonna do about him?”
Sam looks at the two of you and thinks it over. The rational part of her (or maybe its just billy) tells her to kill him, its the sure way to keep everyone safe.
but she can't. not when she watches how hard her fought for you. She watches as he cries and holds you while you smile at him. “He can stay. We'll come up with something to tell everyone. I think it'll be just fine.”
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susamaru-official · 2 years
Text
Upper moons as bf/gf headcanons
So basically this is one of my first stories so dont expect it to be all that great but yeah
I included Daki, gyutaro, douma and akaza because I dont know THAT much about kokoushibo, gyokko and hantengu. Anyways, enjoy
GN, demon reader btw
Daki
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Literally LOVES hugs
Whenever she gets the opportunity to Hug you, she will
She thinks that you are the 2nd most beautiful demon on earth, besides her ofc
Always braids your hair when shes bored
She loves it when you tell her she is pretty, no matter what
When you are hunting, she always holds your hand
Even tho she is weak, she kills ANY human who even dares look at u in a weird way
The only other demons u are able to talk to without her getting jealous are gyutaro and muzan
Smells like expensive parfume and strawberries
If you talk to anyone else, she gets super jealous
Loves playing dress up with you
Big crybaby
Always brings the most beautiful women Home for you to eat
Loves to wrap you up in her belt thingy and then hug you
Gyutaro now has to take care of to people (probably both crybabys)
Gyutaro
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Probably thinks you are joking when you ask him to be your bf
But after a while realises, it isnt a joke
Thinks you are being forced to love him, because he is "ugly"
You actually love him ALOT tho
Always gives you piggy back rides when on missions
Daki also adores you but only like a little sibling
Protects you with his whole life
Hates hugs and kisses
He likes it when you say "I love you" or "you're so pretty!"
Probably smells like blood and poison
You sometimes get scared when he randomly appears behind you
Doesnt get jealous, as long as you don't leave him, he is happy
He last showered 50 years ago but you don't care
Don't touch his hair, he hates it
He loves you, because you actually think he is pretty
Akaza
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As soon as he becomes your bf, he won't let you go
Literally way to overprotective
When you go on missions together, he always has his arm around your waist
Trains with you ALL the time, because he doesnt want you to be weak
He wants you to become the strongest demon in the universe
Probably smells like sweat and grass
Always follows you, no matter where you go
Loves hugs and kisses
He gets jealous if somebody talks with you
Even when talking with muzan
Zero patience
Never leaves you alone, always takes you with him
Always wants to fight with you
The Training never ends
Still he loves you alot
Douma
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Adores you SO MUCH
He treats you like the God you are
He makes you join his cult too
Loves cuddling, hugging and all the other stuff where he can feel your body
Probably smells like flowers and blood
Gives you Goofy ahh nicknames and you have to pretend that you like it...
If you tell him to kill somebody, he will probably do it
He will spoil you with so many expensive clothes
The most normal nicknames you get are "y/n Chan" and "princess"
Always hugs you when he gets the Chance (like daki)
You have your own throne
Ok that is all for now
Im sorry that doumas and akazas were so short but this is my first story and I wrote this at 2am lmao
Whatever, I hope you enjoyed anyways
My requests are open! Please give me ideas 😀
Ty for reading tho, this took me like an hour
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